Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Night's End ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Weiß Kreuz and Weiß Kreuz Glühen belong to Project Weiß and whoever else has dibs on them now. I, certainly, am not one of those people, and do not claim to be. (Though it sure would warm up these cold winter nights! ^.~)

Chapter Two

There were more kitsunes ringing the very edge of the village; some astride tall horses and holding the reins of a comrade's mount, others clustered about a covered cart that had been stopped behind a clump of trees. As the raiding party came into view shouts rang out to greet them, joyous sounds that seemed to be congratulatory, perhaps because of the number of captives. Twelve in all, Omi realized as he glanced about him, daring to peek over the shoulder of his captor. Twelve of the youngest youths of the village, all of them just on the cusp of full adulthood. Not small children, certainly, but not old enough to have fully come into the weight and build of manhood either. Together they were forced into the waiting cart and the door shut after them, the latch falling into place with a weighty *thunk*. And then they were alone, in the dark with nothing to separate them from the horror of what had just occurred except that thin comfort of each other.

Outside, the sounds of the raiding party mounting their horses and preparing to set out were loud in the stillness of the morning. The sound of orders being called out, of horses fidgeting impatiently, were somehow surreal. Omi huddled against one wall, his arms about a younger boy who was rigid with tension and his back pressing into the chest of another, slightly older boy who was talking softly to himself, and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic rocking of the cart as it trundled on its way.

He awoke what felt like many hours later (though it was impossible to tell how much time had truly passed from the murky semi-dark of their confinement) to a sudden burst of weak light from the door of the cart. Gingerly he turned his head, wincing at the lancing pains in his neck from sleeping upright, and tried to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside.

It appeared, from the bustle of activity visible beyond the cart door, that it was later than Omi had first supposed and the company had halted to bed down for the night. Several kitsunes could be seen brushing down their horses, their hands moving with a slow care that seemed totally incongruous after the cruelty that Omi had seen them display just that morning. Still others were dropping armfuls of wood into a pile near a large spot plucked clean of grass, preparing to make a fire later when the sun dropped below the horizon and the chilly autumn air got chillier still. But what had caused the sudden infusion of light and awakened him were the two kitsune soldiers standing in the open hatch, now beginning to herd those boys closest to the door out of the cart into the open. Some of the boys were weeping, their faces white and strained as they were pulled away from their fellows, but there was no outcry despite the growing fear that they had all been torn from their homes and families only to be slaughtered by the side of the roadway. Worse, the creeping suspicion that a fire could be used for many things other than simple heat on a cool night was growing in Omi's mind and he bit back a shiver of fear, mindful of the small still-sleeping bundle that he held in his arms. It would not do to frighten the other boys needlessly, and if his fear did come to pass there would be no reason for the child to anticipate it longer than strictly necessary.

But it was an unwarranted fear, he realized a few minutes later when the missing boys were escorted back to the cart and pushed back in. A new group was taken out, and as the door closed behind them those left behind took the opportunity to whisper questions to those who had just returned.

"What happened? What did they do to you? Are you all to rights?" The questions were hissed from the back of the cart to the front in tones of frightened impatience, and the answers came back in much the same tones.

"Nothing, nothing happened. They took us to a tree nearby and let us relieve ourselves, nothing more. Yes, we are all to rights."

The boy Omi had been wrapped around for most of the day awoke with a small start at the rough sound of the voices and lifted his head, peering about his surroundings with the air of one who hopes that his previous circumstances were all just a dream but knows that it is a foolish hope. Upon seeing only the four wooden walls and the pale faces of the other boys, he dropped his head back against Omi's chest once more and heaved a sigh.

Omi smiled and brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead. His name was Nagi, Omi recalled suddenly - Nagi, and he and his parents had lived on the opposite side of the village, closer to the well. On occasion Omi had seen Nagi outside his parents' hut, helping his father repair farming implements or grinding grain for his mother, but he had never had more than a nodding acquaintance with the boy. Now, however, that fact meant little and all that mattered was the presence of someone to clutch as the world went slowly insane around them.

In a moment, the soldiers had returned and the boys farthest in the back of the cart, Omi and Nagi among them, were ordered forward and dragged out. The air outside was blessedly fresh, and all of the boys took the opportunity to gulp great lungfuls of it as they were hurried to a large tree on the east side of the clearing the company had stopped in. There they relieved themselves gratefully, not bothering to take turns for fear that the kitsunes would grow tired of waiting and take them back before all had had a chance, instead simply standing in a row and pretending not to see anything but the smooth bark of the tree before them. When they were done, the kitsunes led them back to the cart and stood at the door watching as they clambered back in. Food, in the form of small brown loaves, strips of dried meat and two skins full of lukewarm water was passed in to them, and then the hatch was slammed shut with a sound of unyielding finality.

The subsequent days followed much the same pattern for the boys: camp made in the evenings just before dusk, carefully supervised trips to relieve themselves, food and water handed in in the late evening just before the soldiers took to their bedrolls. Then sleep filled with uneasy dreams that left none of them rested, another quick supervised trip to a convenient tree, and the long daylight hours filled with the lurching movement of the cart, only to have the entire cycle begin over again as the sun began to slide down toward the horizon. And so it came as something of a relief, albeit a doubtful one, when the boys realized that they were nearing the end of their journey.

It wasn't anything overt that led them to the conclusion that realization of their fate was near, merely something about the hurried and preoccupied way that the soldiers all seemed to have about them suddenly. Something indefinable that meant, quite simply, that home was near for them.

And so it was. The company halted for noon meal that day, a so far unheard of occurrence, then continued on at a much slower pace than usual. The deeply entrenched ruts in the path seemed to smooth, then to disappear entirely, and the sound the cart's wheels and the horses' hooves made as they moved changed. One of the boys, finally curious enough to risk pressing an eye to a gap between the boards of one wall, announced that they were no longer traveling on the old, familiar earthen trail, but on a wide and stone-paved avenue. Trees lined the edges, he reported, evenly spaced as though they had been planted like corn in a field and their roots surrounded by little circles of stone.

"We are nearly there," Nagi whispered, shivering lightly and pressing closer to Omi's side. "What will happen when we arrive, I wonder? What do they want us for?" But only time held the answer to Nagi's question, and Omi settled instead for wrapping one arm about the boy's waist and rubbing a slim shoulder, offering what poor reassurance that he could.

It was several hours later, when the sun had passed the zenith of its course and was more than halfway to its nightly resting place, that the wall appeared in the distance. A high wall, with great spikes at its top and more standing out from its sides, looking menacing and deadly in the afternoon sunlight. Little wonder that the kitsunes felt no worry in leaving their homelands and raiding nearby villages; even if the villagers felt inclined to follow the raiding parties and attempt to take back what had been stolen, they had not the capacity to conquer the strength of that wall. What tool, what device was known to men that could defeat such might?

Later, as the road wound closer, a gate could also be seen, worked into the stone of the wall. It was to the gate that the road finally bore them and as they drew near shouts rang out, signaling their arrival. The shrieking of metal scraping against metal filled the air, and gradually the heavy bulk of the gate began to swing backwards, making way for the cart and the soldiers to enter the fortress. The gate shrieked back into place behind them.

So ended one chapter of their existence, with the closing of a gate, while another chapter opened before them. What that chapter would hold for them they could not know, and as the cart wound its way through the unfamiliar streets of the kitsune fortress they clung to one another, hoping to grasp whatever shreds of comfort and strength were left to them.