(note: from here on in it gets a little more graphic, violence wise)
Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 4: Visions of Blood
Jovey winced only a bit as he slipped his hands into a bucked of cold water. Very carefully he cleaned the blood and dirt from his lacerated flesh. He watched the water swirl about them to concentrate on something other than the sting. With numbing fingers he rolled his sleeves to his elbows, so that his forearms could also be cleaned. All the while he scowled at his foolishness.
I'm such an idiot, Jovey berated himself over and over. What was I thinking? Celena…Dilandau-sama? I must be losing my mind again.
He worked his jaw, remembering the feel of her blow. The force behind it alone testified to his delusion--most men couldn't slap hard enough to fell a former Dragonslayer. But when her hand touched his skin, he'd felt his muscles go slack, as if numbed by the water he used now. He had allowed his body to turn, exaggerating the damage she'd done. It was instinct.
Jovey dug his thumb into his palm--the pain forced him to regain some sense. "It's impossible," he told himself deftly. "Simply impossible."
The door swung open suddenly, without warning. Jovey quickly straightened. Standing in the doorway was Allen Shezar. Though casually dressed, the sword at his hip and his piecing, blue eyes portended his ill temperament. Shit. What did Celena tell him? Though he had always been confident in his skills as a fighter, now he was in no mood or condition to face any kind of accusation from Allen Shezar.
Jovey forced himself to nod respectfully. "Allen Shezar. Can I help you?"
"What I have to say will be brief." Allen didn't move, which perhaps was more frightening than if he'd entered the room. "I want you to stay away from my sister."
He paused. If Celena had told her brother the truth--he didn't think her capable of lying to him--then Allen should have known he'd done nothing wrong. "Either you're obsessively possessive," he murmured without thinking, "or you're hiding something."
Allen's posture straightened, and his expression hardened. His hand slid menacingly to his sword hilt. "She's my sister. If you go near her again, you'll be punished."
"You don't frighten me." Still soaking in the bucket, Jovey's fingers curled into fists. He's serious. God, what have I gotten myself into? I should just back down. It's not worth fighting a Caeli Knight for god's sake!
"In fact, I never came near your damn sister," he continued, hating himself for every word. "She came to me. She asked me to tell her about Zaibach. So to Hell with both of your for all I care!" He lifted his hands, displaying the raw, damaged flesh. "See? She's nothing but trouble for me. I don't want to go near her."
Allen regarded the youth with a fixed, cold glare; his hand remained on his sword. "Fine," he nearly growled once he'd been made sure of the youth's sincerity. "But this is the only warning I'll give you. If I find her with you again, you'll regret it."
"You didn't find her this time," he retorted bitterly. "You probably should keep a better eye on her."
The knight nearly drew his sword at that remark, but he managed to restrain himself. His eyes gleamed dangerously in the dimming light. For that instant Jovey stood transfixed, genuinely frightened by the harsh, wrathful glare. Without a word Allen departed; his boots made only the slightest of noises as he strode swiftly away.
Jovey sank into the nearest chair, though even then he didn't release the breath he was holding. He stared down at his hands, watching the fingers curl. "Damn it all." With a sigh of disgust he reached for the bandages he'd set out earlier.
*****
"Sir, we're approaching the city."
Celena opened her eyes slowly, revealing a complex mechanical scenery that she didn't recognize. She stared, bewildered at the gears and devices that surrounded her. An acrid, bitter odor pervaded upon her delicate senses. Where am I? Past the iron face grate she could see the outline of a valley, nestled among forested mountains. Tiny homes rested there. Fanelia? But it looks different.
"Sir?"
Where is that voice coming from? She turned to look, and was startled when the metal structure beneath her twisted in response. I'm in a guymelef! she realized, and she nearly laughed out loud. She felt a chill; her muscles flexed, testing how well the armor would copy her movements. To her delight each replication was perfect. I can't believe it. Finally.
"Sir, is there something wrong with the Alseides?"
"No, nothing." Celena grinned, trying to calm her excitement. Now let's see. That's right: the city. She turned her attention forward once more, focusing on the peaceful kingdom below. "Let's go." With a deep breath she started down the path to Fanelia.
The Alseides followed her instructions exactly. This is great! I must be dreaming. Not only a melef, but an Alseides! The gates to Fanelia grew larger as she approached. And as she got closer, a strange feeling came over her--she didn't like Fanelia. It was a small, crowded country filled with weak-minded peasants. That same bitter smell filled her nostrils, like something burning. It caused her insides to twist and dance excitedly.
Gates can't stop melefs.
Celena lifted her hand--slowly, methodically--and pointed at the immense wooden gates. Go away, she commanded. I want to test the strength Brother wouldn't let me have.
From the Alseides's hand spewed several claws of gleaming metal. They struck the guard tower, shredding it like fine paper. She felt a thrill as the gates were then sliced and destroyed with only the slightest effort.
Celena stepped inside. Already she could see the soldiers gathering about her feet like tiny ants, their voices lifting in confused babble. They can't see you, something told her, watching as they desperately searched the area for signs of their attacker. And she laughed, scorning them. You can't stop me.
The men scattered as she started toward them--she didn't even bother to see their fate. She didn't care. There was something more important that she had to find. She could feel it, lying in wait within the city, or perhaps even within herself. It paced back and forth in her stomach like a restless, angry beast. It clawed madly against her ribs; its fangs poisoned her blood with its insanity.
"Burn everything!" The words leapt like laughter from her throat. "Don't leave anything!" Brother will scold me if he knows.
Somewhere to Celena's right a building erupted into flames. She stopped, mesmerized by the sight of it. The fire snapped and roared, growing and changing. Its beauty entranced her. That's right. Burn--burn everything. It was meant to be burned.
Celena lifted her hand once more, and by her will the wooden structure ahead of her was quickly reduced to smoldering ash. The sight of the destruction she'd created caused her body to quake with an excited, perverse pleasure. With a laugh she turned her weapon on the building next to it.
Several more stores and homes were incinerated. One after another they toppled, melted, and trampled beneath her pounding feet. Her claws ripped wood, steel, and flesh with ease; she reveled in her newfound power. Her laughter spilled over the red earth like a poison.
*****
Celena did not jolt from these dreams as one might a nightmare. She slipped from them calmly, as if stepping out of a quiet bath and into a warm room. Even her heart lay still and content. Her limbs were comfortably sore, though from what she couldn't imagine.
Her gaze sought the ceiling--her sight wavered, as if clouded by steam. She rubbed her eyes to clear the mild impediment. What happened? I was dreaming? Of melefs? She replayed the images in her mind, and frowned only slightly. How…odd. I wonder if that really was Fanelia we destroyed. Celena pondered the dream for some time, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. I guess that's the only chance I'll ever get in a melef.
And suddenly Celena realized what was happening to her. She had been dreaming of Fanelia's destruction--a bloody, terrifying act. For the sake of her entertainment hundreds--perhaps thousands--of innocent people had given their lives.
She didn't care. She felt no guilt for having envisioned so heinous a sin, nor for enjoying it at the same time. She had laughed at their pain, and savored the odor of burning corpses. No shame accompanied the memory of these actions; not even shame at having felt no shame. It was pleasure and satisfaction and hunger, and there was no remorse.
Celena pushed herself out of bed and moved slowly to the window. She wanted the cool air to clean her; not of her discomfort, but of her joy. Had she felt the slightest nausea in her gut she would have rejoiced the evidence of her humanity. But she felt none at her deeds, which in itself frightened her deeply.
Celena turned, as the sight of Fanelia's kingdom outside the window brought her pain. Away from that view her focus fell upon her sword that lay in a rack near the wall, bearing the Shezar family crest. Brother fights all the time, she told herself. But has he ever felt this way? Her fingertips covered her lips, remembering how easily they had given birth to curses. Did he ever…enjoy killing? Like I just did?
She shook her head. No, he'd never. Brother is the greatest knight in the world--he'd never kill for fun. He's got integrity and compassion.
Celena left the room; she couldn't stand to remain there, in the place of her sacrilege. She didn't know where to go or who to turn to. For a moment her thoughts drifted to Jovey, but that idea was quickly banished. Talking to him started this, she reasoned bitterly. I can't see him again. It'll only make it worse.
Van sighed deeply as he made his way toward the palace balcony. Another sleepless night had guided him to this wandering, with Merle at his side. "I can't help it," he confided in her as they walked. "I get restless this time of night. You don't have to come."
"I don't like you being out in the cold by yourself," Merle replied cheerfully. "You can catch cold in the summer, too, ya know."
He chuckled. "I know, Merle. I just--"
Van stopped at the entrance to the balcony, as they weren't the first to reach it. Celena was leaning against the marble rail, still dressed in her clothes from the day before. Her silver hair hung limply down her back. The king and his friend exchanged a glance. Gathering his courage, he stepped forward. "Celena?"
Celena jumped, startled by his call. She didn't look back. "Hello, Van-sama."
Van joined her at the railing, and took a careful not of her face. Merle sat at his feet. "Are you all right?"
Celena didn't answer for some time. "I just couldn't sleep."
"Same for me." He noticed that her gaze was very focused--she was trying not to look at him. "Is something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked.
Her hands tightened around the railing. After a short, internal debate she said, "Can I speak to you in private?"
Merle glowered at her suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Merle." Van sent her a steady, serious gaze. Someday I'll tell you. Please, understand.
Merle read the expression in his eyes and sighed. "Good night, Van-sama." With a warning glance over her shoulder at the offending blade, she scampered off.
Van turned to face the young woman. "What's the matter?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even. Despite his own desire to trust, knowing that Celena wasn't well made him wary.
"It's…well, you used to fight a lot, right?" she asked, still facing forward. She gulped.
Unsure of the direction she was going, he answered, "Yes. A lot." He sighed deeply. Some of my best and worst memories.
Celena fidgeted. "I had a dream," she confessed at last. "About fighting in a guymelef."
Shit. Does this mean…. Van managed to contain his anxiety enough to ask, "Why does that bother you?"
"I liked it!" She whirled on him, finally showing the extent of her own apprehension. Her blue eyes were wide and close t panic. "I was killing and killing…and laughing…" She grasped his hand tightly. "Van-sama, tell me you once felt the same," she begged. "It's…it's not so wrong to enjoy fighting, is it? To want to fight…."
Van could only stare, his breath held. He could see in her face that she was serious. Thankfully, there wasn't the same glinting bloodlust he remembered from Dilandau--she was afraid. That might have been his--their--best chance.
Allen, you shouldn't have kept this from her. But…I can't be the one to tell her. The best I can do is…comfort her? How?
He licked his lips, and covered her hand with both of his. "Celena," he began quietly, hiding his insecurities, "I'm going to be very honest with you. And I want you to listen to what I have to say very carefully."
Celena nodded eagerly, her eyelashes splashing heavy tears. With each passing moment he felt his misgivings drain away; he had been right in first believing in her. She didn't want to be Dilandau.
"I have fought." Though the memories caused him grief, they would help her--it was for such purposes that he kept them. "And there was a time that I was consumed by it. For a long time I could think of nothing but avenging my country."
The young woman winced just barely, allowing him some insight into what her dream must have been about. I thought it might have been Fanelia. But now…I have no will left to hate her for it. Hitomi, give me your strength. "It was my everything. And I know it's everything to your brother, too. Now, I don't know what your dream was, or what you really felt, but fighting shouldn't be pleasure. It can be exhilarating, and refreshing, and necessary." He pushed the words through. "But fighting to kill because you like it is wrong. Samurai and knights and even bounty hunters fight out of necessity, sometimes even entertainment, and it's all right to live that way without shame, but…."
Celena's body grew limp, visibly so. Before he could react she fell against him; he hastened to support her. "Van-sama, I…" She clutched him desperately. "But I felt those things. I…I don't know what to do." Her tears slid down his neck, and he started, unsure how to help her. "I can't talk to Brother. He'll think I'm awful."
"No, he won't," Van said quickly. "Allen will understand. As a knight, he's been through hard times. You have to trust him."
"But what will he say?" she insisted. "He's a Knight of Heaven--he's never hated anyone. But…in that dream…." She choked on a quiet sob. "I hated everyone. I hated this country, these people--all people. I hated you for ruling them, and Brother for keeping me from--"
Celena halted suddenly, and pushed away from the king. She wrapped herself with trembling arms. Van was overcome then with a profound sense of pity for this delicate girl. She was suffering, and he could do nothing to ease that pain. Hitomi, tell me what to do. How can I help her?
"Van-sama." Celena raised her gaze to him imploringly. "Can't you tell me what's wrong with me? Whatever it is…can't I know?" Her arms tightened. "The way Jovey looked at me, expecting something--it's the same way you and even Brother look at me. What do you expect of me?" Her voice rose shrilly. "What am I?"
"Celena…." Van bit his lip, struggling between responses. I don't want her to suffer. It would be better if she never knew, right?
"There's nothing wrong with you, Celena," he answered strongly, praying it was the right decision. He placed a hand on her shoulder and held her eyes. "You're just going through a difficult time. Having one frightening dream doesn't make you a bad person--your brother will understand." He smiled faintly. "Thank you for trust me, but I can't give you much advice. Just…" What did she used to say? "…you have to be true to your real feelings, and honestly believe in yourself. If you do that, you'll be all right. And we're all willing to help," he added.
Celena nodded, seemingly somewhat convinced by his short speech. "Thank you."
"Come on. I'll take you back."
"No, I'm fine." Thought she could not bring herself to return his smile, she wiped her tears and gathered herself up. "I want to stay out here a while longer, if that's okay."
"Sure." Van sighed through his nose as she turned back to the railing. I guess…I just have to trust her. After a silent prayer he left the balcony and continued his wanderings.
Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 5: Stained
Celena spent the next day in the castle, exercising every possible excuse to travel the maze-like halls and visit each room several times. She even volunteered her help to the servants—anything to keep her mind occupied. She laughed and joked with those people she met, as if assuring herself that the malice she'd felt towards them was nothing more than her brain's wild concoction. She studied the faces and buildings she saw, imagining all the love and spirit dedicated to each. She celebrated the life they portrayed.
Only once did her ill ease return. It was only a flash, but it terrified her with its intensity. She had paid a visit to the court in hopes of thanking Van; when their eyes met, her stomach lurched. For an instant his face changed, from the young king to that of a scaled, gruesome beast. His eyes burned like magma imbedde3d in a twisted skull, and fangs gleamed from within his malevolent grin. The sight of him caused her flesh to crawl. But more than that, she felt a profound sense of disgust for the creature before her: it was ugly, and grotesque, and pitiful. She hated it. And in the span of those brief moments she trembled with fury. She imagined her sword dislodging his scales, and tearing into his filthy hide. She wanted to see his blood fill this damned, hellish pit of a city to overflowing.
What's happening to me?
--
In the afternoon, Van met with Allen and Gadeth in his chambers and relayed what he'd witnessed. "There's no mistaking it," he said quietly. "The look she gave me just before running away—it was Dilandau. Her eyes were dangerous." He sighed. "I'd hoped it wouldn't' come to this. I trust Celena. But…Dilandau, I don't."
Allen closed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. For a moment his face was stricken with a pained expression. "God, can this really be happening? If Celena…."
"Our beset chance of saving Celena is that she's afraid of what's happening to her. She might be able to resist the change."
Gadeth scratched his stubble beard thoughtfully. "Isn't there anyone left who would know what they did to her?" he asked. "The sorcerers, I mean."
Van pursed his lips. "I have heard of several that defected from Zaibach after the war," he murmured. "They're living in Balsm now, I believe."
Allen turned a desperate gaze on the young king. "Can they be reached? If we knew what they did to her…."
His crew comrade nodded. "The Crusade can carry a message there in no time."
"No. I'd rather we take her there, and not wait." His tone dropped grimly. "I think it would be best if we took her out of Fanelia—Jovey, Van, ever this country are having an effect on her. I don't want to risk her safety or anyone else's.
Van folded his hands and set them on the table, staring at them solemnly. "I understand, and I agree. I'd…hoped this wouldn't happen, but I can't risk anything."
"Then it's settled." Allen rose from his seat with the wary movements of an old man. "Gadeth, alert the crew that we'll be leaving as soon as Crusade is ready. I'll prepare Celena." He paused. "Van, I'm sorry to leave you like this, as the festival begins tonight. But I suspect you'll have enough to worry you without this."
The king nodded slowly. "Yes. Take good care of her, Allen. I'll send a message ahead to tell them you're coming."
Allen and Gadeth left together. "Is it me," the latter asked thoughtfully, "or does he seem a lot older now?"
"Yes, he does. I suppose we've all aged." Allen released a deep breath. "It's times like these that I miss Hitomi, as well. Perhaps she would have been ale to help."
Gadeth smiled ironically. "Looks to me that our king friend was thinking the same." Then they split up to attend to their separate tasks.
--
It was if the world had gone silent. Celena drew her knees in close to her chest and listened, seated on her unmade bed. She could hear nothing outside the small window, even as her eyes confirmed the hundreds of bustling, excited citizens. They were preparing for the festival that night which she had all but forgotten about. Their laughter just barely tickled the insides of her ears, like remnants of a strange and unsettling dream. She gazed listlessly at their activities without registering anything. To her they were as ghosts, pale and silent, drifting through smoldering debris.
Celena released her heavy breath through a dejected sigh, and his her face in her knees. I hate this. I hate myself. Where is it coming from? What's happened to me? Her shoulders raised, even as she refused to cry. Brother, Van-sama, Jovey, even Gadeth—they seem to know why but they won't tell me. Why? Why do I feel so helpless? It all happened so suddenly.
Three days ago she remembered eating dinner with her brother. It had followed a long day of packing for their trip, and the quiet privacy of their meal together had been a welcomed relaxation. Her mouth watered a bit as she imagined the taste of the carefully prepared vegetables and tender meat. Afterwards, her brother had stared at her long and thoughtful across the table. With his hands folded delicately and blue eyes shining sincerely, he spoke to her. He told her that he was proud of her skill, her intelligence, and her looks. And he'd sworn, as he'd done a dozen times before, to protect her forever.
At the time Celena had smiled, and thanked him graciously as she always did; his short speech was nothing new. As an older brother he was practically required to compliment her, and as a knight he was obligated to protect her—facts she often took for granted. She missed those bright, serious eyes now. She wanted to share in some of the purity he kept about himself—justice, elegance, compassion, and integrity. But then, she felt as if she had somehow become dirtied, and to even want such things was a sacrilege against what they stood for.
Celena lifted her head once more, attempting to console herself in some way. There was no use in this self-pity—she had to confront and understand this problem, somehow. What possible reason could she have to hate Fanelia, and its king, who had been her brother's acquaintance for years? What reason could anyone have? It was a beautiful country with mountains, valleys, sparkling rivers—
--and mountains of burning, rotting—
Celena hid her face this time in her hands, trying to force the dream images out of her mind. "No, stop it," she hissed fiercely, and several tears leaked from her tightly pressed eyelids. "Leave me alone. I'm not like this. I'm not a murderer."
"…enjoyed pain of others…"
Celena stopped, and carefully wiped her eyes. She glanced about her, but the room was empty. Several long moments passed before she realized that the voice had been a memory. She frowned, whispering the phase to herself.
"…vicious…obsessive…"
She transferred her gaze to the window, hoping to lose herself in the movement of the people. One of the figures captured her attention immediately—a man with short black hair was moving through the crowd. Her stomach twisted. "Jovey…."
"…ruthless, commanding…"
"Jovey knows," she heard her lips form, staring at his back as it slowly weaved through the waves of happy townsfolk. "Maybe he…."
"I think I understand you."
Celena leapt off her bed and bolted for the door. Already she felt faint with hope that he—someone—could help her. She disappeared down the corridor used by the servants just as Allen turned the corner at the hall's opposite end.
--
Jovey rested his pair of polished swords against a nearby tree. He had journeyed into the forest, alone, to escape the cheerful clatter of festival preparations. The celebrations were not only for the resurrection of Fanelia, but the defeat of Zaibach, and he had no intention of participating. It wasn't patriotism that spurred this annual protest—he couldn't claim to understand. But even if he had no love or sympathy fro his former country, he couldn't consider praising the deaths of his comrades.
More importantly, he knew that any festivities would be presided over by King Van and—most likely—his guests from Asturia. After the night before, Allen Shezar was the last person he wanted to meet.
Jovey stretched his arms and legs, preparing for a work out; from here he would be able to hear the sounds of celebration, the thought of which warming his blood. Exercise was the best way to deal with the complicated, swirling emotions. He finished stretching and proceeded to change the bandages on his hands.
Celena…what am I going to do about her? he wondered as he applied a stinging medicine to the slowly healing cuts and bruises. Why did she react that way? Maybe…she's a relative of Dilandau-sama? He frowned. But she didn't even recognize his name. It didn't even look like she knew why she hit me.
Jovey retrieved his swords and, after a few testing swings, began the workout. I've gotten stronger. He managed to complete the entire series of moves without the blades touching once. And better. But then, it'll be a lot different in the Alseides.
He'd just begun the second sequence when he detected the sound of someone running towards him. He lowered his swords and looked to the surrounding trees. "Who's there?" he called. "I'm armed."
Celena burst out of the woods a moment later and staggered to a halt. She gasped for breath after what must have been a long run. Jovey bit his lip and forced himself not to speak. She hand come for a reason—she would have to share it before he made assumptions.
Once Celena had calmed her breath somewhat, she managed to straighten and look him in the eye. That contact lasted only a moment. "I need to talk to you," she said slowly, deliberately.
Jovey felt the grips on his swords relaxing. Again her exercised his restraint. She looks so lost, so helpless. She's trying to hide it—I know that look. Damnit, I know that look! "So what is it?" he asked calmly.
She came closer, forcing strength into her legs with each stride. "I…I want to hear more about Dilandau Albatou." He could have sworn that his heart stopped. "You said you were a Dragonslayer, but they're gone now, aren't they? Where is he? What happened to him?"
"Celena…." Jovey took a deep breath, trying to calm his turbulent emotions. "Why? Are you looking for another excuse to hit me?"
"No! No, I didn't…." Celena looked away guiltily, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry, I just—"
"No, it's alright," he said quickly. "I didn't mean it like…but really, why are you so interested?" He returned his swords to the tree and motioned for her to take a seat beside him.
She did so hesitantly. She appeared very unsure, and he wondered what had happened to bring her to this state. The last time they'd spoken she'd been bright, confident, and spirited. She must have been really upset. No wonder Allen was so angry. But why?
"What you said…" Celena began quietly. "It frightened me, somehow. And lately…." She shook her head as if to clear something from it. "Please, just talk. I have to understand him."
Jovey shifted uncomfortably; he wanted to demand an explanation, to settle these doubts, but he respected her, and frightening her would do nothing. "I'm not sure what to say," he admitted. "I don't…I don't really know what happened to him."
"You must know something," she implored. "A man like that…vicious…what happens to people like that?"
He licked his lips, frowned intensely, and finally gave in. "I…was at the battle against Duke Freid at the Fortuna Temple," he began slowly. She nodded in comprehension. He stumbled a bit over the words, caught up in all the pain, anger, and sorrow of those past days. "I was injured badly." He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down the collar enough for her to see a long, white scar running from his left shoulder to his navel. He quickly hid it once more. "I was unconscious for several days, and when I woke up…they were gone."
Celena flinched just barely, her lips pressing. Jovey wasn't sure how to interpret that, so he went on. "They told me--my superiors--that the Dragonslayers had been killed by Van, and that Dilandau-sama had fallen ill and was in Zaibach. I left our ship and went to the capitol to search for him.
"I never found him. By the time I had reached Zaibach and begun my search, I learned he'd already returned to duty. I wanted to follow him." He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. "I would have fought and died at his side, like the others, had I the chance. But…my wound became infected, and I fell ill." Gradually, he released his tension through a dejected sigh. "I learned afterwards that he had died in the last battle of the war. The Oreades he piloted had been dismantled by Asturia--not even his body was left.
"And then I came here. I had intended to kill Van, but...he defeated me." In Jovey's mind, the clashing of their blades and wills still echoed. He scowled. "He said he wouldn't take my life, because now we were even. We had already destroyed each other's most precious possessions."
--
Celena stared at Jovey, her eyes wide and mystified. "You…loved Dilandau that much?" she asked, repeating his story over in her head. "To die with him, even though he was a murderer and a villain? Why?"
"I can't explain why." He looked as distraught as she felt. "We were terrified of him, and yet…we cared more for his safety than our own. More than the families we left behind. I never realized how important he was to me until after…."
Jovey trailed off and fell silent. Celena bit her lip painfully. They loved him that much, even though they feared him. He was willing to give his life to Van to avenge him. She stared at the youth's downcast eyes; he had been ready to die, and perhaps still was. Is that why he's still training out here? To fight Van someday?
Jovey still hadn't spoken, and she fidgeted, unsure of whether she should disturb him. Tell him what's happening to you, her brain whispered. If he can forgive Dilandau, he can forgive you for simply thinking, can't he? If anything, maybe he knows what causes a person to…to think the way you have been.
"Jovey…." Celena licked her lips, gaining a bit of courage back as he turned his attention on her. He looked oddly hopeful. "I had a dream that I was burning Fanelia."
Jovey started visibly, and she looked away to avoid meeting any reaction that followed. "I was in a guymelef," she rushed on. "An Alseides. We were invisible, and we charged through the gates and destroyed everything. Everything was burning…." She heard him inhale, preparing to speak, and cut him off. "And today, when I saw Van-sama, I…I got so angry for no reason. It was more than hatred--I felt like a mad dog."
His hand snapped around her wrist, and she jerked back, startled. She was, however, unable to free herself.
"You said 'we,'" said Jovey in a low, harsh whisper. His hand was trembling as he held her. "Who else? How many?"
"Other guymelefs." She kept her head turned away. "Invisible Alseideses, I think. Five--maybe six of us." Tentatively, she glanced at him.
Jovey's face had become an almost deathly pale--his eyes were gaping, lips parted without taking air. The expression of shock caused her stomach to twist and cramp. "Stop looking at me like that," she pleaded, trying to draw away.
But he took her other hand and held her still. "Celena, those are Dilandau-sama's memories." She stared at him, utterly bewildered. "He burned Fanelia in a red Alseides--him, and fiver other Dragonslayers. Gatti, Chesta, Dallet--"
"Stop it!" Celena fought against him, trying to escape. She felt as if she were falling a great distance, with wind-shrieks tearing at her ears and hair. Something wet touched her cheeks and slid down her chin. His words, his hands burrowed inside her like maggots, knowing on the lining of her organs; it was as if her heart were bleeding through chewed-out holes, washing her bones in hot blood.
"Celena, listen to me," Jovey continued, his voice rising like the fury inside her. He, too, had reached some bizarre precipice, showing through his wild eyes. He dragged her closer, even as she struggled and cried. "They've done something to you, and you're not the same person anymore. You have to wake up! Remember who you are!"
Celena choked on a sob, still pulling against him futilely. Her face had begun to sting, then burn along the tracks of her tears. Suddenly an image entered her brain, and she wailed, "Jajuka, help me!" She lost her strength as the pain in her abdomen flared and expanded. "Jajuka! Jajuka…."
--
He hadn't meant to go this far. He could see that he was hurting her, but he couldn't stop. His breath came in short gasps, and his pulse was racing. I was right. It is him--I know it is. "Dilandau-sama--"
"Get away!" Celena twisted suddenly, and the point of her heel caught Jovey's unprotected stomach. He instant released her; she retreated like a wounded animal. Coughing and sputtering, he rubbed his bruised torso and cursed softly. But when he looked up, he stopped, in every sense.
Celena huddled childlike among the roots of a nearby oak tree. Her hands gripped her shoulders, quaking, and her forehead pressed the heavy trunk. Sounds of pain--sobs mixed with coughing and groaning--dribbled from her raw throat. Jovey watched expectantly, waiting. His teeth bit through his lip.
At long last Celena's shaking lessened, as did her voice. Jovey was confused to see that her vest was stretched tightly across her back, as if it had suddenly become too small for her. The fact that the muscles in her arms and shoulders had changed somewhat was also slow to register in his mind. Her breath had deepened.
Jovey crawled slowly forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Celena…?"
Her head turned, tainting his sight with red.
Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 6: Reversion
As soon as Allen exited the guymelef hanger he encountered Gadeth. "She's not in there," he said evenly, not halting in his pace as he started back toward the castle.
Gadeth fell into step beside him. "You're pretty calm considering she ran off," he remarked. "Or are you about to kill something?"
"I'm all right." Though the words sounded truthful, they came a bit too quickly. "This isn't the first time Celena's snuck out without telling me--she's a responsible girl who's always acted independently. I trust her."
"But…."
Allen sighed. "But yes, I'm still worried. She could be any number of places, with any number of people. It's not her I don't trust--it's what might happen." His expression deepened. "And the melef overseer says that Jovey didn't report today. I don't trust him."
They returned to the castle and found Van, who was busy preparing for the festival that night. The maids were scurrying about like bees. "I have some guards looking for her," Van assured the knight as his hair was combed and arranged. "Did you check the hanger?"
"Yes, and she's not there," Allen replied with worry. "Jovey isn't, either. Do you think he knows about her?"
"Hmm." Van looked thoughtful for a moment, then suddenly declared, "That's right. Jovey always leaves on festival days. I know where he is." He stood and abandoned the maids, who hurried after him with concerned murmurs. He ignored them, retrieving a piece of paper and drawing ink. "He'll probably be here," he explained, quickly sketching Fanelia's border and the location of a small grove. "The place he and I fought. He goes there every year. There's no telling if Celena's with him, though."
Allen frowned. "I have a feeling she is," he muttered, tucking the crude map into his shirtfront. "Thank you, Van. Don't worry about us at all." Signaling to Gadeth, he turned and quickly strode out of the room once more.
--
Jovey was staring at Dilandau Albatou.
He rubbed his eyes, convinced that he was dreaming and that the form of his leader would soon vanish--or, at least return to Celena's image. But his sight proved to be no lie. Huddled before him was a tall, slender teenage boy, his hair grew and skin pale, accented by his bright red eyes and a strip of fresh blood down his right cheek.
It's him. It's really him. How--why--what happened? "Dilan--"
The boy turned suddenly away from him and vomited. Jovey averted his eyes respectfully, unsure as to whether or not he should offer assistance. He felt dizzy and unstable, even as he was sitting. When his leader's nausea seemed to have ended he asked, "Dilandau-sama, are you all right?"
"Dilandau…sama…?" Dilandau wiped his mouth and turned away from his mess--Jovey was startled to see traces of blood on his lips. The albino fell onto his rear and leaned his back against the tree, eyes closed. He sighed and rubbed his stomach.
Jovey crept closer hesitantly. "Dilandau-sama?" he asked again diffidently. His every instinct indicated that he should bow, and he fought that impulse with some difficulty. "Can you hear me?"
Dilandau's eyelids opened lazily. "Who's there?" His gaze appeared to absorb nothing, like those of a weary blind man. "Where…?"
"It's Jovey Garrelli," he replied, even as his voice was trembling. When the boy didn't respond, he added, "A Dragonslayer, sir, under your command."
"Dragonslayer…" the white-haired teen murmured distantly. "Dragon…slayers. Dragon." Gradually, his eyes began to focus. But they didn't look at Jovey; they were cast to the distant form of Fanelia's capital city. "Dragons…."
Something's wrong. God, what did they do to him? "Do you remember what happened?"
Dilandau's body seemed unnaturally still; if it weren't for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he would have appeared a corpse. His skin's pallor testified to this. "I…remember." He fell silent for a moment before resuming quietly. "Fire. Blue fire. And Blood." At last he turned his head to face the anxious youth at his side. "Jovey. Where are our Dragonslayers? The Dragon is alive, and I need them."
Jovey sighed--relieved that he was regaining some sense, regretful of the news he must share. "They're dead," he replied, subdued. "Don't you remember how they died? After the battle at Fortuna Temple."
Dilandau didn't respond, and when Jovey looked again he saw that his eyes were closed. "Dilandau-sama?" He…fell asleep? He sighed, dragging a hand over his own face. Damnit, what am I supposed to do? Asleep, Dilandau looked as he always had--still as death. "What did they do to you?" he whispered heart-sickly. "Why would they do this--making you his sister? Mocking you this way…." His expression hardened into pained wrath. "Not any more," he promised. "I won't let them. We'll go back to Zaibach, and get help from the Sorcerers. I won't let them use you."
Dilandau slept on, oblivious to the oath he'd made. Nearly half an hour passed, and Jovey was beginning to consider searching for food, when he heard the sound of a horse approaching--several horses. Damn. If that's Allen looking for his sister…. He shook his leader urgently without success in waking him. "Dilandau-sama, please wake up. We have to--"
It was already too late; three horses broke through the trees, with Allen in the lead followed by two scruffy men he didn't recognize. There was no time to attempt an escape. The Dragonslayer instead rose to his feet to meet this challenge, swords in hand.
"Celena!" Allen took in the sight of his sister, curled among the tree roots, Jovey's disheveled appearance, and the pool of bloodied vomit nearby. In an instant he dismounted and aimed his sword at the youth's throat. "What have you done, you bastard?"
The knight's tone was so uncharacteristically low that Jovey stepped back; even his own men looked startled. Jovey quickly rallied his courage. "I didn't do anything," he retorted hotly. He batted Allen's sword away with his own. "And I won't let you near him!"
Allen's gaze quickly snapped in shock to the huddled form, looking it over more carefully. His face twisted into a look of horror. "D…Dilandau…but that means…." He pounced on the youth like a beast; their swords locked. "What the hell have you done?" he demanded. "How did this happen?"
Jovey struggled to keep the knight's weapon at bay. "Don't you know what's been happening to your own sister?" he sneered. "He's remembered who he really is." He grinned despite himself. "The leader of the Dragonslayers."
"Damn fool." Allen used his superior weight to force his opponent against a nearby tree. "Dilandau isn't real. He was created by the sorcerers as a mask for my sister!"
"Don't you dare mock him!" Jovey forced all his strength into his right hand, freeing one of his blades and slashing at the older man's shoulder. He danced out of reach long before it hit.
Allen took up a new stance. "I'm telling you the truth," he insisted angrily. "Celena--my sister--was kidnapped by sorcerers, and--"
"Shut up!" Their blades clashed, passing blows back and forth until meeting in another standstill. "What the hell do you know?" he hissed over their crossed weapons. "You don't know Dilandau-sama at all!" Again he managed to maneuver one sword free and drive Allen back.
Allen paused before attacking again. His gaze shifted constantly between his enemy and the still slumbering Dilandau. "Jovey, please listen to what I'm saying. This Dilandau--" he pointed with his sword "--the Dilandau you know--wasn't meant to exist. He was a false personality created to be a murderer. As one of his own, you should have realized that there was something wrong with him."
Jovey felt his grip on his swords growing slack; as they began to fall he regained some sense, and took hold of them once more. "No…you're wrong," he whispered. He watched as Allen lowered his own weapon and started toward Dilandau. His voice rose to a yell. "You're wrong, you son of a whore!"
The Knight turned upon him as soon as the words had penetrated his ears; he barely had time to defend against the attack. In a flurry of blurred metal Jovey's left sword was wrenched from his grasp. He continued to fight without pause, dodging each vicious strike. For a moment he caught his opponent's eyes, and the malice held in them gave him a chill. He'll kill me if I'm not careful. He blocked another strike and tried to kick; Allen avoided without effort and, as if to mock him, fired a kick of his own. This caught Jovey in the gut, throwing him on his back. Before he could vault to his feet once more, that same boot slammed heavily into his chest. Another smashed down on his right wrist, forcing him to release his sword as he cried out in pain.
"I've had enough of you," he captor growled, poking the tip of his sword into the base of the youth's throat. "You'll be taken into custody, and--"
"Shut up! You don't understand." Jovey coughed, suffering under the restriction to his lungs. He was dizzy from the earth's blow to his skull--he spoke defiantly anyway. "We loved Dilandau-sama--all of us. He needed us to protect him, and every one of them did, up until the end. He…he must be real." He felt as if his eyes were burning. A mask…it's not true. It can't be true. I won't let it be true!
"Gatti, Chesta, Dallet Migel, Guimel, Viole--they were his brothers, and mine," he continued, and the burning sensation overflowed onto his skin. "I won't let you erase what they fought and died for!"
Jovey snatched the sword pointed at him and pushed with all his strength, driving it into the shin of Allen's boot. He was thankful then for the knight's dutiful attention to his belongings; the expertly sharpened blade sliced through the boot's soft leather and tasted flesh. Startled by the suddenness of the attack, Allen lurched backwards, and the youth used that time to reclaim his weapon and charge. His opponent guarded well despite the injury; however, he was no longer able to use his weight as an advantage, as his foot couldn't be trusted with added stress. The pair exchanged the positions of offense and defense several times before breaking apart.
Jovey wiped the sweat and tears from his face. He was beginning to tire--it was taking all his strength and every one of his tricks just to keep up with the Heaven Knight, and he had gained no ground. The injured leg was not proving as hindering an injury as he'd hoped. There has to be something I can do, he thought, trying to remain calm. Is there anything he can't block?
Allen adjusted his position to make up for his leg. A moment later he advanced. Jovey blocked the initial strike and several that followed before making a move of his own: he lashed out with his foot, catching Allen's wounded shin. Only a sharp gasp escaped his lips as a reaction to the pain.
The Dragonslayer took full advantage of the short pause. His sword hilt to the inside of Allen's wrist disarmed him quickly. But Jovey wasn't interested in killing him; he followed this assault with a fierce uppercut that nearly felled the older man.
As I thought. He can't fight without a sword. Jovey didn't relent, and was able to land one more hit to the man's jaw and two to his gut before he recalled his wits.
Allen recovered far too quickly; his fist connected with Jovey's unprotected stomach, conveying more force than he thought possible. Something that might have been a knee caught his gut, and then a right hook sent him on his back.
"Boss, are you okay?" Somewhere above him Jovey could hear Allen's two crewmen asking about his condition. He moaned, gingerly probing the tender flesh along his jaw. Already it was forming a sizable bruise.
"Can you get that boot off?"
"I will, once we get back," came Allen's response. "Celena's more important now."
Jovey forced his eyes open, even thought they showed him nothing but flashing white at first. He willed them to become clear once more. Allen had his back turned and was again heading toward Dilandau, favoring his right leg. Still propped against the tree, Dilandau slept on without stirring.
"Di…landau…sama…." Though he was fatigued and in pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The forest swam about him, then cleared to focus on Dilandau once more.
The white-haired boy's face was arranged in a calm expression. Asleep, he took on the visage of a very young child, with his hands resting on his stomach and his legs pulled in close. His lips were slightly parted, as if filled with possibilities and waiting to form some indication of his dreams. Like the delicate innocence of fresh winter snow.
"He needs us. So please, don't turn you backs on him now."
Jovey hadn't really understood what Chesta had been trying to say back then. With time he'd acquired that feeling, though--he knew that devotion. Even if he'd never been good enough to join the ranks of Dilandau's favorites, he'd experienced the need that drove them all. This was his master--like a brother he'd pushed them, forcefully, to surpass themselves. He was their motivation and their pride, and they his silent, willing support. The rest were gone now; they had entrusted their duty to him to fulfill. There was no choice but to fight.
Jovey pushed to his feet and charged. He didn't know what he intended to do--something, anything to protect his leader. Allen heard the approach instantly and turned toward him. His arm was moving laterally. Jovey realized an instant too late that the knight had reclaimed his sword. The blade rushed down at him as a blur of flashing steel. Jovey twisted his body to avoid it, but his momentum was too great. His left forearm took the blow: Allen's sword sank diagonally into the muscle, easily cleaving the flesh and stopping only when bone was struck. Jovey had no time to scream--almost instantly the limb went completely numb.
Allen recoiled, only now seeing that he had attacked an unarmed man. Jovey managed only a short, gasping wail as the blade was withdrawn; he dropped to his rear in the dirt. He clasped the wound that was already overflowing with hot life-fluid, and swore between clenched teeth.
Allen stared at him with indecision. Finally he turned to one of the men at his side. "Kio, help dress his wound. He'll ride with you back to the castle."
"Bastard…" Jovey hissed, unable to see the man anymore through his tears. He could feel blood staining his fingers, dribbling onto his knee. "I…I'm just trying to protect him."
"So am I," he replied softly, somewhere nearby.
"Damnit."
"Calm down, kid," came a new voice, just beside him. "I don't have anything to bandage you with, so we'll have to use your shirt.
"You'll have to cut it off," Jovey gasped, "because I can't let go of my arm."
Despite the man's size and gruff appearance, he took great care in his attention to the wounded youth. He cut the already tattered and bloodied fabric away with a knife and tied it into strips. "Move your hand," he instructed firmly, and as the boy obeyed he fastened the material around the gored arm. The first layer was quickly saturated crimson.
"Boss." Once they'd finished, Kio turned to his leader. He was seated atop his horse, one arm around Dilandau's middle, who had been situation in front of him. "He's in bad shape--it's bleeding a lot. We have to get him to a doctor."
"All right. He'll ride with you."
"C'mon, kid." Kio slung his arm around Jovey's waist and hauled him to his feet. The boy did not protest as he as half carried to the horse and place in its saddle. Already he was feeling dizzy and faint. Dilandau-sama…. He glanced at his master, and was startled to find a pair of crimson eyes on him.
--
Dilandau awoke slowly from vague and confusing dreams. He felt odd--no other word described his condition better. His body ached, not painfully, but in a way that made him aware of his every joint and muscle. To move his limbs would be like blowing on a wad of cotton. But his mind was keen--he kept his eyes closed, listening to the forest sounds, and plotting the scenery in his mind.
He was seated on a horse--a large horse that shifted impatiently beneath him. Seated behind him was Allen, as he could tell by the scent. How he was able to accomplish this recognition was beyond him; all he knew for certain was that the man's hand pressed against his stomach was making him sick.
Somewhere nearby voice alerted his attention; he recognized it, as if it had been pulled from his dreams. The sounds of pain caused his skin to grow hot, and he opened his eyes to view their source.
That boy…I know him. Dilandau caught the black-haired boy's gaze and held it, trying to make out his identity. He's one of mine. He's one of mine.
Dilandau snatched the reins of his horse and yanked as hard as he could. As it had already grown anxious from the odor of blood the animal reared, neighing in fright. Allen began to slide off, having been too concerned over his captive to monitor his own safety; as he fell, Dilandau snatched his sword handle, unsheathing the metal with a loud hiss. "Jovey!"
Jovey quickly caught onto his plan. He kicked Kio in the face and maneuvered his horse alongside his master's; Dilandau leapt easily onto the second beast and spurred it on without hesitation. It snorted, but complied, carrying the two Dragonslayers into the forest.
--
Allen started to climb to his feet, and nearly fell as his leg complained with the sudden stress. Gadeth managed to steady him. "Boss, are you--"
"I'm fine," he snapped, as Kio attempted to calm his horse. He stared after the pair and cursed softly. "We have to go after them."
"You need to get your leg cleaned," Gadeth insisted. "They'll come back--Jovey's in bad shape. They--"
Allen snatched the man's shirt suddenly. "Go after them," he ordered. "If they come back to the city unsupervised, they'll cause trouble."
Gadeth hesitated only a moment. "All right. Kio, take care of the Boss." He remounted his horse and rode off, into the woods.
Allen watched him go with a sigh. "Please, find them."
--
Jovey could feel that he was slipping gradually out of consciousness. The woods echoed like a blur around him, and he couldn't make out the words being said in his ear. Abruptly the horse stopped moving, and he was pulled off of it. "Come on," Dilandau was saying urgently, helping him along. "Come on."
"The horse…." Jovey stumbled, and once he righted himself was puzzled to see their mount racing off. "Dilandau-sama…?"
"Stay here." Dilandau lowered him to the ground, resting between a pair of thick tree roots. Nearby ferns were twisted and adjusted to cover his existence. And then suddenly Dilandau was gone, having climbed into the tree's branches.
Jovey stayed still--he felt as if he could do nothing else, so weary was he. His quickly fading attention was drawn by the sound of hoof beats, and the soft forest earth trembled as a horse sped past, into the forest. He stared after it curiously. Was that our horse? Why did it leave? He tried to sit up but fell back, exhausted. "Di…Dilan…?"
"I'm here, Jovey," a voice came from above. "Go to sleep."