The Island of Narid
Chapter 10: "Sera Chto"
Still don't own FMA….
HAH! made it WAY before my 2 week period was up!
"How is she?" Edward pulled back a curtain of towels to enter the shack.
Alphonse was kneeling beside a sleeping pale figure. "I don't know, brother." He said, voice betraying worry. "She hasn't woken up since yesterday."
Ed looked at Winry, eyes narrowed and expression firm. He said nothing, nor gave away his mood, but Al had expected as much. Even in his younger days, Ed would hide his feelings, stash them away; whenever Winry would fall, scrape her wrists and cry, Edward would stand to the side while Al would murmur comforting words to the girl.
"Edward." Riza's voice said sternly from outside. And despite the lieutenant's calm demeanor, there was a pang of slight apprehension.
"Keep a watch over her." Edward said softly before exiting. Hawkeye met him outside.
"Have you seen Rose?" She inquired.
Edward distractedly shook his head, eyes still fixed on the steel shack where his friend lay ill.
"She's been gone since yesterday." Riza pressed, attempting to find his straying attention.
"Rose went swimming with Hierra yesterday—I think they went on a walk." Came the boyish voice of Alphonse from within.
"For the night?" Riza exclaimed, momentarily dissuaded from her normal coolness.
"Alone?" Roy intruded into the conversation.
Edward waved them aside, "She had Hierra—with—" His voice caught when Riza's glare finally made its meaning. He cursed. After a moment of hesitation he said, "I'm sure they'll be fine—Hierra's not—"
"You agreed to keep watch on her. And weren't you the one who whined and protested vehemently when Mrs. Izumi brought home the child she had found?"
Wrath. Ed's mouth snapped shut. He turned briskly away. "Send somebody else."
"Edward." Hawkeye said firmly, demanding. She knew what he thought.
Heaving a groan Ed walked away into the forest. In truth, it wasn't just Winry's condition that wanted him to stay. If something had happened to Rose, he knew he wouldn't provide much comfort. It was why he was labeled "standoffish" once and a while—it's only because he loathed feeling guilty for someone else's hurt, even if he wasn't responsible. He couldn't bring himself to reach out and help. He left that to his brother.
With each step forward, his dread and apprehension heightened. The more his mind pondered over what the lieutenant said the more he realized the similarities between Wrath and this Hierra girl. Both, just appearing—on an island no less—latching on to somebody, gaining trust. In this case it had been he and Rose, not his old teacher and guide, Izumi. He had fallen into the snare the second time the trick came around. The homunculi could have repeated what happened to Wrath, now only using Hierra as the baited hook.
Edward checked himself then, realizing his pace and quickened dramatically and his heart pulsed violently. He shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of its imagined traps that lay ahead, or what he would find when—if he found Rose and the girl.
The dappled sunlight shifted as it fell hot on Ed's shoulders. The trees were thinning overhead, and the scrub plants were shortening, new shoots, and a few charred remains of some older form. His feet had led him without thinking to the place that harbored a clear pool and a small waterfall. The faint rush of water echoed in his ears.
Then another sound was heard: a light, small squeak. Edward stopped, straining his ears to catch the noise once more. It came to him louder, and he now recognized its source.
"Kit?" The cat yowled on, her voice droning in a lonely howl. She seemed afraid and frantic so he sat on the forest floor, gently calling her closer.
Eventually Kitty came to recognize him. She came to his hand but wouldn't let him pet her—she would skimmer away. His heart hammered harder in his chest; what would cause the kitten to become so frightened? Why wasn't Rose with her?
Ed hurried on, letting Kit follow if she wished. The waterfall was in sight now. He approached it and cupped his hands in its cold waters, lifting them to his lips and draining the water down his tight throat. It had clenched from a worry he could not explain.
A high series of muffled cries was suddenly heard. Ed's head whipped about him, for it was a voice he knew. Hierra.
"Hierra?" He called. Though his attempt was to sound calm and nonchalant, he found his timbre had gone low with reproach. Her cries came again and he followed them. As he could hear the girl more clearly, he found her screams were true fear, something that couldn't be mimicked.
"Hierra?" His voice softened involuntarily when she began crying.
Then Edward saw her. He rushed forward, finding her arms held bound against the tree, chafing against the rough texture. Her mouth was covered and stuffed with dirty cloth. Another covered her eyes.
With shaking, feverish fingers Edward ripped the binds from Hierra. She fell away from the tree, stiff and weary. Ed caught her shoulders as she slumped forward, and held her up.
"Ed! Ed!" She screamed, weeping uncontrollably.
The boy was too fretful to feel guilty of accusing the girl. "Hierra, where is Rose?"
"Rawse! Pwi katar! Katar plé shvii!"
"Where—is—Rose?" He said slowly, shaking her shoulders slightly.
"Ed…" The girl's crying became more subdued and her head lolled backward and her eyelids slipped shut in an exhausted and weary sleep. Her throat was torn from shrieking the night long.
Edward felt his heart lurch. He could not describe the emotion he felt now; the fear, the worry, in such an extremity he had never realized laid dormant inside. He tried to work his troubled mind to recompose itself, but it would not obey; it kept treating him to sick illusions and trickeries.
A slight and surprisingly tender hand brushed by her face. Rose opened her eyes and lifted her head. Her temples throbbed painfully and her back ached sorely. Her arms and legs were cramped and burning from sitting uncomfortably without room for change. Dimly before her, blurred and spinning, stood a tall woman in an ebony garb. But her skin was pale ivory white compared to her own. When her visitor crouched, Rose recognized the divine, angelic face that twisted smugly into mockery. It was the homunculus woman, Lust.
Rose gasped, shying away, pressing her cold body to the stone wall.
"I don't remember your name but I do recall the blind follower of Cornello, whining for, longing for the fake priest to resurrect her dead lover. Yes, he told me. And you were also Fullmetal's pet when he visited your pathetic town, weren't you?"
Rose could hardly breathe. Her eyes were wide in sick fear and she could barely move.
"Answer me." She demanded, fierce then. Her gloved fingers inhumanly stretched and threateningly pricked her dusky flesh. "So what's your name?"
Rose swallowed hard, felt the sharp points soring her skin. She opened her mouth, but she knew no sound would come forth.
Lust bent closer to her face; her words were breathed in a hiss. "What's the matter? Can't you speak?"
The door of her dark room clicked open and in a flash Lust was away from her, turned toward the man who appeared in the doorway. Tall and lanky he was, with dark wispy hair and skin like Rose's own. His eyes were dark-rimmed and he looked doleful. In the next instant, he looked at Rose and attempted a smile, though she knew it betrayed sadness. He was in his middle years.
"Bakahop téno?" He asked, his voice slightly monotonic.
"Shi." Lust answered. "Kar gothnu békno."
The man gasped and looked toward Rose with widened eyes before clasping his hands quickly and fretfully across them. He trembled.
"Noko zherto! Pwilu zherto! Kye!" He screamed, turning around and making for the exit. But Lust caught his shoulder and he let out a frightened cry. She turned him around and stood him against the wall.
She turned to Rose. "Do you know what you are to these people, wench?"
Rose's eyes were frozen on the man clearly terrified of her. She didn't look at Lust or show any sign that she heard.
Lust gave a breathy scoff and turned toward the man. "Kanazhno. Tekya."
Quivering, the man drew near to Rose, but he would not look her in the eye. He reached up to where her arms were bound, and in a few minutes Rose's arms fell back by her sides, heavy and weary. The man ever-so-gently took one of Rose's dusky arms and slung it around his shoulder, lifting her to her feet. With Lust leading, the three walked out of the cell.
There were a number of steel walled passageways that were dank and narrow before the walls fell away. Rose started upon seeing millions of bodies clustered in the enormously wide chamber. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their faces upturned toward the raised dais she was upon. The man helping her shuddered, but stood firm under Lust's watchful gaze.
The walls around them were intricately embellished with gold and bronze, curving and twisting into the shape of a man, or a woman, child, or animal. They all reached upwards, clambering over each other, desperately seeking something above, and their longing faces set in the golden carvings. At the far end of the chamber, towering superiorly over the millions of bodies stood grandly an otherworldly man, cloaked in a flowing tunic. Set on his brow was an elegant crown and in his hand a grand, magnificent scepter was held. His shrine shown brightly as the sun and the blue stones surrounded and accented his every feature. The room's walls were made of the dim cyan gems, lighting the room with an eerie glow.
But the statue of the glowing man seized all Rose's attention. The same statue, with only miniscule corrections, lay in her old town, Lior. It was Leto, her Sun God!
The people abruptly began changing in unison, in one whispering soft voice poured with complete admiration.
"Chana bella karshti tévo.
Terras bwifo rallie kor.
Sera wo, Sera chto…"
Again a spark of recognition lit in the back of Rose's mind. Some of those words, some of those phrases she remembered. They were old prayers that were repeated in her own temple in Lior. However, before Rose could continue on the thought, the man holding her walked forward, bringing her up the dais to stand before all the people. Rose's blood ran cold and her skin grew slick with chilled sweat.
When the chanting ceased, their faces fell away from her, looking down. Their arms were raised above their heads in synch then, before bowing low, dusting the backside of the person in front of them with their fingers. Only then did she realize the man who supported her fell away and came to his knees, paying her homage. Rose swayed a bit, but regained her balance and stood shocked and bewildered—the only one standing.
There was a silence. A long, austere, soundless passage where they bowed before her. Then the click of shoes sounded on the far side of the raised platform. The second homunculus woman, straight-haired, walked toward her with a small wooden bowl. Its contents burned with a dark red-orange glow. It steamed.
The woman stopped behind Rose. The homunculus's arms were raised above both of their heads, and without warning, the searing liquid tumbled from the chalice, cascading down Rose's face with a painful sensation. Rose, unable to scream, was rooted to the stone beneath her sandaled feet. Her body trembled under the immense heat. She felt the thick liquid drip over her skin, burning, paralyzing her with pain.
"Sera chto." The crowd chanted.
Also from the right of the dais, a group of people came forward, each held by a homunculus. She recognized some: the woman who had held Hierra, her own capturer, and two men she thought branded her. Only her eyes looked their way; her body was still in shock.
Before her the natives were brought. The homunculi each held in their hand a dark silver dirk, crowned in gold and the glowing stones.
"Bartet." The homunculi whispered in perfect unison to the people they held. The locals opened their mouths. Rose gasped then, seeing the kind-faced but terrified man who held her before in the line with them. The homunculi, with their dirks, brought their hands toward the others' lips, and with a quick jerk of their arms, slit the tongues of the natives.
They choked on their blood, some doubled over. The lady behind Rose ran forward and caught their blood in her chalice as they battled against the pain. After she had filled the wooden cup with drops of their life, she turned toward the still petrified girl.
Rose felt the woman force the chalice to her lips, tipped it forward. She tasted the thick draught with disgust. She felt her own body gag and lean, but Lust came and held her upright. Her mind was kept paralyzed, held in a glaze. Their blood slipped down her throat and the lady massaged her neck, forcing her to swallow.
Tears cascaded softly over Rose's dark cheeks. She felt dirty, vile. She drank another's blood.
"Sera chto, Sera chto…"