Disclaimer: I don't own any Slayers characters, nor anything else related to them. Please don't sue me, I spent all of my money on manga. ^_^
1. Discovery
Blood? Is this death? I thought . . . It's getting dark. It's . . . a pity . . . really.
I didn't know I had blood.
How odd.
Well, I suppose everyone thinks they'll live forever.
I'll just close my eyes. . .
I . . hope . . I . . .
Snow began to fall softly upon the beaten-down path, great soft flakes that blanketed the trees with sparkling garments. Or so he was told. He smiled bitterly. For all his titles and power, he, Rezo, could not accomplish the simple task of looking at the snow falling on his own head. Certainly, he could project the image into his mind with a simple spell, one that took nearly no thought at all. But that method was clumsy and the image blurry and dull. It could not compare with being able to actually perceive the world with his own eyes, a thing even babies could do. He banged the end of his staff hard against the ground, listening to the harsh chimes. Pathetic. Ah, well, mentally arguing with himself would get him nowhere. Talking to yourself was the first sign of going senile, after all. Although, after all these years it was probably about time. . .
Suddenly he paused. He felt something . . . odd. Reaching out with his senses he listened intently. Yes. There it was. Pain. Intense pain. Surprising he hadn't felt it before, he thought as his senses began to reel at the onslaught. He supposed he ought to find whoever it was, even if only to keep himself from going mad. Reaching out once more, he searched for the source. There, under that tree up ahead. He walked forward and knelt, raising his eyebrows.
A girl. Rather young by the look of her. She lay sprawled on the ground, the snow around her stained crimson from her blood. Her injuries weren't normal, by any stretch of the imagination. She appeared to have been thrown through a pane of glass, as near as he could tell. Deep slashes scored her flesh from head to toe. Pale hair was matted with blood from where she had hit her head. She was breathing, barely. He shook his head. To do something like this to oneself took, at the very least, a considerable amount of effort. A healing spell would do no good here, he knew. Something, glass most likely, was embedded in her wounds. To heal her now would mean nothing, infection at best. He frowned. He wasn't too far from his laboratory, but he couldn't move her, not without doing something for those cuts. Unfortunately, he was the only person for miles around, and to leave the girl here and going to find some help would mean certain death for her.
Sighing, he resigned himself to the rather nasty task of bandaging her up. There wasn't much left of her clothes, but they would have to do. He could heal the least of the wounds, then bandage the rest and wrap her up in his outer robe until he got home. He winced, then got to work. At times like these, he was almost glad he was blind. He frowned again as he examined her clothing. The soft material marked her as a noble, but if she was, what in Ceipheed's name was she doing here? The early blizzard had kept everyone from traveling anywhere for the past few days. He was the first on this road since then. As far as he could tell, there were no footprints leading to the girl. It was as if she had dropped from the sky. Finally, he gave up trying to figure it out and concentrated on healing the white-haired girl.
Removing his cloak, he laid her on it and gently wrapped her up. Her wounds had stopped bleeding, but he still picked her up as carefully as he could. As he made his way up the path, he was surprised at how light she was. He could easily carry her with one arm, cradling her against his chest like a child. She stirred and moaned quietly before subsiding again. Well. Apparently she was still alive. He hoped she would stay that way. He really didn't want to explain why he was carrying around a nearly naked dead girl. Carrying around a nearly naked, barely alive girl was bad enough. Thank the gods that she had on some clothing, even though there wasn't much left of it at all.
"Well, you certainly are lucky, little snow fairy." he remarked. "Lucky that someone found you. Lucky that I was the one to find you instead of a bandit gang. Lucky that you aren't going to die. At least not yet. Not if I have anything to do with it."
The white-haired child slept on, oblivious to the fact she was safe, warm, and alive.
Well. . .
. . . not dead after all.
I think.
No. . .
Hurt too much to be dead.
Ouch.
Everything's fuzzy. My mind feels slow.
She opened her eyes, feeling as if they had lead weights attached to them. She was in a bed, with thick, warm blankets covering her. A fire burned merrily, filling the room with a warm, cheerful light. She tried to stretch, then winced as pain shot through her once more. Glancing down, she saw her arms were thickly covered with clean, white bandages; and she supposed that that was what the rest of her body looked like as well.
"I wouldn't try to move yet, your body is still healing." She whipped her head around in the direction of the deep voice, and immediately regretted it. The throbbing in her head told her exactly why she felt so dizzy. She heard a gentle chuckle, then the owner of the voice moved into view. It was a very tall man with purple hair and red robes. As she studied him she realized with a sudden jolt that he was blind.
"So, you're finally awake. It's been three days since I found you in the snow. I thought it best if I let your more serious injuries heal naturally, so you'll have to stay in bed for a while." She blinked. He helped me? Snow? Where am I? "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rezo, the Red Priest. I was traveling from Sairaag when I found you." Rezo. Sairaag. I don't know. . . "May I ask your name?"
Her name? She opened her mouth, then closed it again, puzzled. What was her name? She couldn't remember. She racked her brain, trying desperately to push past the fog that muddled every thought.
Rezo studied the girl. She looked to be in her early teens, definitely not old enough to be out on her own. She regarded him silently, emotionlessly. Obviously not trusting him one bit. She was awake and alive, that much was for certain. But he couldn't be sure how much damage had been done. Her hesitation at his simple question worried him. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down, lightly touching the wound on her head. She winced again and pulled away, her eyes narrowing. The bump on her head must have done more damage than he thought. "Do you remember anything? Your home, your parents, anything?" he asked, as gently as he could. He could sense her concentrating, desperately searching her mind for a clue of her origin.
Where did I come from? Why do I hurt?
Her mind filled with despair, which only sharpened as she opened her mouth, trying to speak, without result. Alarmed, he laid his hand gently on her throat. Had her voice somehow been damaged? His probe turned up nothing, at least nothing he could explain. Her vocal cords, as near as he could tell, had simply stopped working. A seal? He grimaced. More likely her experience had been such a shock that her body was rebelling against her. He didn't know if her voice could heal, but if it could, it would be only after months, maybe years. He smiled bitterly as he felt her panic. He knew what it was like to go through life without something most people took for granted. He carefully removed his hand. Amnesia and now mute as well. And he probably wasn't helping any. Perhaps if he left he alone for a while, she could try to collect her thoughts in peace.
He stood. "You just lie there and rest, I'll bring some food."
She lay there, staring off into the distance. Now what was she going to do? She couldn't talk , could barely move, she couldn't even remember her own name. She owned nothing except the clothes on her back, and if they were in the same condition as she was, they were worthless. Without her voice, she couldn't ask Rezo anything that might help or thank him for what he had done for her. For all the good that would do. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died in the snow, instead of living her life as a mute girl, without a past or an identity. She let out a soundless sigh and shook her head furiously, trying to clear out the clouds. She glanced over to the window ledge. Moving around might help. Besides, she wasn't going to stay helpless in bed for too long. Hopefully.
With alarming weakness, she pulled herself out of the bed. She should be stronger than this? I don't know. . .Why can't I think straight? I don't like having my mind like this. Maybe it was always like this, I wouldn't know . . .Why am I hurt? Did someone hurt me? Why? Why can't I remember? Something is . . . wrong? Danger, perhaps?
Pulling herself up to the window ledge, she snorted, collapsing against a pile of pillows. Of course there was danger. She wouldn't be sitting here, wrapped in gauze from head to toe if she hadn't been or wasn't now in danger. And if she was in danger, her unexpected savior could be too. She gathered the blankets about herself and leaned back, staring out at the snow. Maybe if she just faded into the background. As an anonymous person, she would be safe, wouldn't she? Since she had nothing to go on now, she could just start from here. This decided, she felt a strange sort of comfort. Some kind of plan was better than nothing, after all.
The purple-haired man walked down the stairs, contemplating the strange twists fate had thrown at him that day. He certainly hadn't expected this when he had come from Sairaag today. He had absolutely no idea what to do with this young, mute girl. And it didn't appear he would be getting any help anytime soon, he reflected. The change in the weather over the last few days had told him that another storm was coming. He wasn't going to be doing any traveling anytime soon, and neither would anyone else. Again. It was going to be a cold winter, with all of these early storms.
Well, he had to make the best of it. He was a healer, after all, he could easily care for her wounds, and she was healing quickly enough by herself. Clothes were another matter. After whatever had happened to her, what was left of her clothes was unrecoverable, and she certainly couldn't wander around wrapped in blankets. He would have to find a tailor, but certainly not in this snowstorm. If all else failed, he could go digging through some of the spare rooms. Through the years, a few of people he had healed had attempted to repay him, and he had quite a lot of, well, junk lying about that he had never bothered to get rid of. There had to be something in there he could find for her. He would have to. She had nothing at all to her name.
This, of course, brought him back to the original question. Who was his mysterious visitor, and how did she come to be in the condition she was in? Her wounds were certainly not common. And neither was she for that matter. Everything about her pointed to nobility, but in all of his travels, he had never seen or heard of her before. But . . . he thought back. There had been no footprints around her, and yet, she had only been lying there for a short time. He frowned. the only possible explanation he could think of was that she had been on the wrong side of a spell at the wrong time. When she was asleep again he would investigate. He could use his powers to examine the clothes, her wounds, anything that might be a clue to her true identity.
He continued to quietly plan the hours and days ahead as he carried up some food for the girl. Weak soup and tea, for now, maybe something stronger later. And to think he had been planning a nice quiet evening. This girl was a bit of a nuisance. However, even if she couldn't talk, it might be nice to have some company, at least until the blizzard passed. If nothing else, this was a welcome distraction from the almost constant quest to unseal his eyes. He glanced up as he entered the room and barely stopped himself from slapping his hand to his forehead, a gesture that would have proven disastrous due to the hot food he was carrying in said hand. She's going to be the death of one of us!
"What are you doing up? Do you want to make your injuries worse?" She turned her silent stare onto him as he quickly set down the food and stalked over to the window. She looked at his furious face, puzzled. Why should he care about what she did? After being in bed for three days, as he had said, her muscles ached from inactivity. Shouldn't she get up and move around? She turned and looked out the window again, ignoring the man glowering down at her.
Unfortunately, as small as she was, she was on the losing side of any argument about her mobility. Rezo sighed and simply scooped her up once more, returning her to the bed. She tried to struggle, but gave up, being far too weak to do anything against him.
"Now, this time you're going to stay there. You need to rest if you're planning on healing up anytime soon." He took the food and sat down again. Motioning at the bowl, he said, "I got you something to eat. After three days, you must be starving."
The girl glanced at the food, and then at him. After three days I want to get up and . . . oh, never mind! She weakly moved her hand toward the food, but she had used up all of her strength going over to the window. As her hand fell back to the coverlet, Rezo could sense her disgust at herself, him, and the general world around her. He sighed again.
"I must say, I never envisioned myself in the role of nursemaid. Especially to such an uncooperative little girl as you." He fetched the tray and laid the tray on his lap and, much to his personal amusement, held a spoonful of the thin soup to her lips. As she jerked in surprise and regarded the spoon with a mixture of wariness and scorn, he snorted. "I assure you, my dear, this isn't a great highlight in my life either. But I'm sure that even snow fairies such as yourself have to eat sometimes. So if you don't tell anyone of this, I will keep my silence as well."
Don't tell . . .! How would I do that? Though she was tempted to turn her back on him, the smell of the soup was far too tantalizing, and she realized that she was, in fact, hungry. After staring at him for several moments more, she finally leaned forward and carefully sipped at the spoon he held to her lips. Her eyes widened as the soup washed over her tongue. It was . . . good! Rezo smiled down at her and, hesitantly, she tried out the expression on her own face. It felt unfamiliar, but Rezo chuckled.
"So you do have some emotions, little snow fairy. I was afraid I'd brought back an ice queen instead."
I guess it's right then. . .
Author's note number two: So, tell me what you think! I'm going to try to make this into a sort of "History of Rezo" because there just aren't enough Rezo 'fics out there. Please Review!