Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Forbidden Empire ❯ Chapter 2

Chapter 2

FLASH

A raging fire, tongues of flame racing out of control.

FLASH

Screaming, eyes wide; people panicking, running. The dank smell of smoke.

FLASH

Pounding feet; broad, green leaves slapping against reaching arms.

FLASH

Words, spoken in a smooth, liquid tongue. Frantic, searching. Where is everyone?

FLASH

Flame licking around them; gaining faster than they could run. Trapped.

FLASH

Ken gasped and stumbled back, breath ragged and heavy, as if he had run a marathon without moving, or only just struggled to the surface of deep water after being under for far too long. Lights swirled in front of his eyes, a plethora of dots and unearthly shades he couldn't identify.

There was something different, he noticed when his eyes finally cleared. Something in the air- or rather, the air itself. It wasn't as clouded with steam as it had been when he'd first entered the shrine, and there was some new, subtle, tantalizing yet acrid scent that teased at the back of his nose- it hadn't been there before, he was almost sure of it. The forest was also different- the pervading quietness was unusual, the noise of the last day and a half cutting off suddenly.

"T'si anh pra isi'ha Intis'hue."

That voice again. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't another of the heady visions he'd just experienced. This one was real- or, in this case, more real. Ken blinked and focused his eyes on the figure- make that figures- in front of him. His gaze was instantly drawn to the spear he recalled had been pointed at his throat, - well, it still was, actually- and the one holding it. The weapon wasn't all that menacing, but the blackness at the pointed tip unnerved him somewhat; what could it possibly be? His mind ran through a list of possibilities as he looked the small figure up and down, none of which he found very promising.

The youth in front of him, though possessing a rather cheerful-looking face, had a look about him that told Ken that the boy had killed several times in his lifetime, and all with that same half-smile painting his slight features. Blue eyes that were a bit too wide for his face gave the boy an aura of innocence even through the hardened gaze, and longish, tousled golden-blonde hair hung just slightly into those too-wide features. The smooth looking skin of this youth was lightly tanned, but less than Ken himself was, and much lighter than natives of the area- and yet, he seemed to simply belong to this place just as much as the shrine behind him did.

The White Devil- for Ken had realized suddenly, as if someone had told him, that this person was what the natives had referred to in their reverent, shivering tones- the White Devil wore pants of a slithery brown material only a shade darker than his skin, and belt and ornaments of shiny blue stone complimented his eyes most wonderfully. The youth looked to be no more than 18 years of age, though he seemed much older, and his chest was bare. As Ken openly stared at this new arrival, he felt the spear inch just slightly back from it's menacing position at his throat, and something disturbingly like fleeting recognition sparked in the youth's blue eyes.

"Hikka d'a t'si im t'si." More of those hauntingly-... familiar?- words fell like rain from only slightly moving lips; to Ken, the tone implied a question, most likely directed at him. He had, however, no direct means to answer what couldn't be understood in the first place.

"Inh pra staja hikka." A new, more clipped, but still masculine tone that seemed to reprimand, and Ken realized that there were others here besides the boy and himself- three, in fact, all with the same inhuman slenderness as the first. The one that had spoken wore the same strange garments as the blonde, but he possessed no jewels, had eyes like violet chips of ice, and his hair was a deep, blood red that was definitely not a human color. Next to him stood another male, with lavender-blue hair pulled back close against his head by a bone ring, dangling in a horse-tail behind one ear.

The last stood a bit farther off from the rest, the only female in this group and the only one with a top covering, and the smirk on her face somehow told him that she was the one that had spoken to him in the temple. Her hair, almost black, but also with a strange greenish tint, hung into her eyes but didn't cover the fact that she was young, younger than the rest save the first boy. The smile that graced her features when Ken's eyes fell upon her was cold and hard, and the unbound feral nature in her silver-flecked eyes caused a shiver to dance up his spine.

"Sudhoda'ya." was all she said in her strange, lilting, scornful tone, and the wide blue eyes of the boy with the spear flicked towards her casual form. All in this small group had light skin color; the girl's flesh tones were bordering on pure white.

"A'sa. Pra t'si im t'si." He acknowledged, spear inherently dropping just a bit more and allowing Ken to breathe easily again for the first time since he had run into these people. The boy must have somehow noticed this, for he turned his gaze back to the athlete and smiled wryly. "A'sa. Se..." the boy's eyebrows furrowed as he carefully picked out his words, "se... habla... es-... español?"

Ah, finally! A language Ken could at least try to understand. He had taken a few Spanish courses in high school, after all, though he didn't remember much. "Si... un poco." He admitted, causing a wide smile to come forth from the other boy.

"Bueno... gracias."

At that, Ken choked. What was the boy thanking him for? It wasn't like he had done anything. And yet, he felt he should remember... something...

"S'kei an'ya!" came a low, guttural exclamation of apparent disgust, and the black-haired girl pushed her way forward, wrenching the spear from the hands of the blonde boy and bringing it back up to where it had begun- tip resting dangerously against Ken's throat. His eyes widened at the violent actions of the small girl, but the soccer player made no sudden movements.

"Qantaqa!" a light but forceful reprimand in that same high, almost husky tone from the blonde; Ken recognized that word from before. Perhaps it was her name? The girl seemed not to hear it.

"Hey, Ken! Don't worry, it was nothing but a pair of stupid monkeys who fell from a tree, is all." The smooth voice of Yohji's cut through the air a split-second before the blonde pushed his way through the overhanging foliage and spotted his friend. "... Ken? What-?"

"Yohji!" he hissed as inconspicuously as possible, some small part of his consciousness only vaguely amazed that his attackers weren't even sparing a glance at his friend. "Stay back!" he cast a meaningful glance towards the psycho girl threatening him with a sharp stick, but his blonde friend only looked at him, confusion shining in his jade eyes.

"Um... Ken? What the hell are you doing?" the older man asked, approaching him and getting what Ken thought to be dangerously close to the quiet one with the blood-red hair. The athlete thought he spotted a shiver run down the violet-eyed youth's spine before the redhead turned and stared directly at Yohji- and yet right through him. The athlete could only watch in shock as Yohji walked even closer, literally rubbing elbows with the other boy before- what the hell?!- walking straight through.

Ken blinked a few times, trying to prove to his brain that that had actually happened, and he had actually seen that right- when he looked again, there was no one there but Yohji, gazing on him with slightly concerned eyes. Ken noticed with surprise that the air had returned to its usual steaminess, and the loud, encompassing noise of the forest was at its peak. Had he just imagined it all? But... no, it had been so real! He swallowed thickly and glanced, wide-eyed, at Yohji.

"You... you didn't see them?"

The blonde peered incredulously at him over the rim of his black sunglasses. "See who? There's no one here."

"The... the White Devils, Yohji. I saw them. They were standing right here." He gestured impatiently in front of himself. His companion MUST have seen them!

"You mean ghosts? Aw, you've got to be kidding me, Ken." The blonde man ran an agitated hand through his messy hair and sighed. "You don't really believe in that stuff, do you?"

The tone of that voice was almost mocking, and it hit the slender athlete like a physical slap in the face. "I am NOT crazy, Yohji. I SAW them! I know I did!" he resisted the urge to growl out loud.

"Hey, hey." The blonde waved an easy hand, trying to calm him down somewhat. "Don't get all riled up about it, ok? You might have seen something, sure. There are enough stories floating around to validate ghosts, at least partially, to me. But don't you think it might have been something else?"

"Like what?" he gazed in suspicion through blue-green eyes at his friend.

"Well... let's see; it could have been maybe some type of mirage. Those things happen in the desert all the time, and it's just as hot here."

Point of fact, Ken had to concede him that much. "I guess you could be right." He said shortly, still vexed from the blonde's earlier disbelief.

They had spoken to him- or rather, at him- though; Ken hadn't ever heard stories about speaking mirages, but he supposed anything was possible. Besides, he didn't need to get into another clashing of wills with Yohji. They were on equal ground here, and Ken knew what he said sounded as crazed as the natives, though he also knew he wasn't crazy.

"Of course." The blonde acknowledged that statement in the usual 'Yohji' way- egotistically, with a self-appreciating smirk lighting his longish face. The blonde casually produced a cigarette from somewhere and lit it, taking a long, relaxing draw before he continued. "And, speaking of me always being right,"- 'As usual', Ken's mind supplied the unspoken, insinuated words that were nearly tangible in the air with a wry inner smirk- "that crash we heard? Just some of the regular animals having fun." He grinned, then that jade gaze flicked downwards, and his brows furrowed in puzzlement. "Ken? What's wrong with your hand?"

Ken jerked, noticing that his friend's gaze was caught by his right hand, which he realized he had been unconsciously rubbing against the side of his leg agitatedly. One finger in particular was a bright red from the rough, dark cloth, and the athlete realized that it was the very same one that had suffered the injury just a few minutes earlier. Odd; it was still bleeding, he noticed as he brought it closer to his face.

Dark red, almost black; darker than he'd ever seen fresh blood before. It was unnatural, somehow. He winced as a sharp pain lanced up his finger and brought it to his mouth without thinking, then quickly jerked it out, eyes widening in shock at his momentary stupidity. What if it was poisoned or something? Maybe he did catch some strange jungle disease, and it was just now starting to show the effects.

The salty, metallic taste of blood still lingered in his mouth as he answered as calmly as he could. "Nothing. I just scraped it on some sharp rock." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie; he might have, though the altar hadn't been sharp at all, more rounded than anything. The words still tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Well," Yohji began, taking another draw of his cigarette as he thought for a moment, "it still looks pretty painful. I have a first-aid kit in my pack; let's go get you a Band-Aid or something, hm?" he smirked. "Maybe one with those little dinosaurs or something. You'd like that, right?"

Ken violently pushed down the coil of irritation that was rising in his stomach. Yohji was only teasing, no need to make such a big deal about it. "And I'm sure you have some; you're just that type of person."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean, hot shot?"

The brown-haired youth only chuckled in response.

-----

By the time the two made their twisting way back down the temple steps, their guide had breakfast- or rather, brunch- ready and waiting in the stew pot over the fire. The native man gladly served them steaming bowls of the unidentifiable but still delicious soup, causing Ken to grimace at it and stick his tongue out childishly before giving into his hunger. A hot meal for lunch on a day like this was severely uncomfortable, but their guide seemed to be used to such things

"Ernesto."

"Sì, señor?"

"What-" how to put his question? "How dangerous would finding a black-tipped spear be in here?" Suggestive and not very articulate, but something nonetheless. Unconsciously, he rubbed his now-bandaged finger against his pants.

Their black-haired guide stared unblinkingly at him for a long moment, eyes intense. "Why do you ask? Never mind-" he cut Ken's reply off, "It does not matter." His eyes closed for a brief moment, then fixed on the brown-haired athlete's form once again. "Just a spear in itself is not usual fatal. It could not kill much. However, the rainforest is, as you Americans would say, the 'home office' of natural poisons. The black tip would likely be poison from a local frog or snake."

"That deadly, hm?"

"Very."

"So what's with the sudden interest in primitive-but-effective weapons, Ken?" Yohji piped up, grinning at him from over his bowl of soup. "Did one of your 'ghosts' have one of those as well? Or are you just thinking about auditioning for a spot on 'America's Most Wanted'?"

Ken glowered at him, trying to ignore Ernesto's interested, imploring gaze and just go back to eating. It worked, and the native didn't push him into any verbal chitchat, and Ken didn't offer any.

-----

Running; pounding feet. Flailing arms, reaching out desperately to him as he raced by. Cries, pleas for help. He kept running.

A brightness in his eyes, overwhelming. An intense heat at his back, seeming to urge him onward, faster.

He was drowning in noise and the close press of fallen bodies. Eyes wide yet vacant, devoid of the spark of life.

Dead.

He fumbled for something at his belt even as he sprinted forward, almost dropping it in his haste. A knife, shining with a strange unearthly light. His gripped tightened around it, not wanting to lose this precious item.

Sudden noise, around and behind him. He stilled in an instant, breath harsh, hoping he wouldn't be spotted in the encroaching dark, but already knowing it was too late.

Another noise behind him as he surged forwards once again, something that sounded like a scuffle, though he didn't dare look back.

Forward. Move forward.

The others? Most were around, near him and yet not. The younger would be doing as told.

Instant, intense pain. He gasped and stumbled, hand reaching to his side and trying to block the sudden blood flow.

It hurt. Deeper, too; a spearhead.

Metal. He put his dagger away; he'd need both hands, now.

Feet tripped over themselves; falling.

Rushing flame.

Contact; hard ground. He winced, but did not let go his hold on the wound. Stagger forward.

Rushing, hot flame-

-----

A desperately muffled noise. Ken struggled suddenly upward from the bonds of sleep, breathing heavily. Beads of sweat budded on his brow, running down the side of his face or dripping in his eyes. He reached up and scrubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand, rubbing the sweat from his tired eyes. His finger throbbed dully, but he ignored it.

That dream... it had seemed so real. The emotions, the feelings, the smells- they had all seemed more part of a long-ago memory than merely a dream. He could still vaguely feel a ghost of pain in his left side, though it was fully whole and smooth upon close inspection. Ken could even imagine he still felt the heat of fire upon his back, which had been bare in the dream.

What had wakened him? The brown-haired athlete wracked his memory, finally coming up with one small, dissatisfying answer- a sound, a noise that had been vaguely wrong in this small, cut off place. He didn't remember what it was, but he did know that it had disturbed him.

He sat there for a long moment, hoping that the sound might come again, his breathing slowly returning to normal. However, it seemed Nature was out to taunt him, for soon his ears caught the gentle pitter-patter of rain on his tent, before the sound became an all-out roar, drowning out any repeats of the first noise.

-----

The loud chattering of the forest animals woke him the next morning; without yesterday's headache, it wasn't so unpleasant. He reached up and blindly scrubbed at his closed eyes before sitting up and getting the strangest feeling; like something had happened that he should have remembered, but for some reason didn't.

Ken shrugged it off in a moment, passing it of as adjusting to his surroundings, and went outside, idly swatting at some flies and other hovering bugs as he made his way across the clearing to stare up at the towering temple in front of him. The pain in his finger had faded to a dull ache, but when he looked at it he had the feeling it should have hurt more than it did; the whole pad of his finger, or as much that showed beneath the Band-Aid, was a mottled, light purple color that looked suspiciously like a bruise.

A glance around the small camp told the athlete that Yohji was nowhere to be found; the blonde was probably still asleep. This was more expected than the early-rising blonde he had seen yesterday.

The temple seemed like it was looking at him. Ken shivered and turned away. Whatever had happened up there yesterday- it hadn't been natural.

The boy. Who was he? And why did Ken feel like he knew him? He knew things he shouldn't have known; things he hadn't known- until those weird flashes he had experienced.

Idly rubbing his finger, he turned and headed for his pack as he felt his stomach rumble. Time for an early breakfast.

When Yohji finally stumbled out of his tent, it was closer to afternoon than morning, and, although sleeping for so long, the blonde definitely looked the worse for the wear. There were shadows under his eyes- not dark, but just beginning to show- and his hair was messier than it usually was, even in the mornings. He greeted both Ken and Ernesto, however, with his usual fluid-but-jaunty wave of the hand, and that stilled all questions the two might have asked.

-----

The day went by relatively fast, most of it spent examining the temple, and Ken was glad that there were no more 'surprises'.

By the end of the day, the intense heat had drained his body of energy, and he nearly stumbled more than once on the way down to the forest floor. Yohji was in no better shape, and the both of them ate their dinner mechanically, not really tasting it, before literally falling into their respective beds and being pulled into a dreamless slumber.

Ken woke sharply again that night, irritated. It seemed he couldn't even get a decent night's sleep around here. This was the third night in a row!

All his irritation was suddenly and instantly washed away when his nose caught a familiar tingling, back-of-the-nose scent in the air, however; it was the same as when he'd encountered the four people up on the top of the temple. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why.

Why was it so hot? The heat wasn't usually so intense at night.

The athlete felt his stomach sink as his mind came up with one of the violent images from one of his dreams, and he literally jumped towards the flaps of his tent, throwing them open and sprinting outside.

The air was full of that scent, and Ken coughed, trying to keep it out of his lungs. His eyes burned and watered, and he rubbed at them viscously, trying to clear his vision so he could see. When he did, he wasn't so glad of it.

Fire.

Burning, licking flame.

-----

Nozomi