They dragged her down from the saddle into their midst, laying hands to her shoulders and around her neck when she struggled. Angelo in his crisp white robes, fur trimmed and elegant, put his fingers on her chin and forced her to look at him. She spat in his face and his smile faltered. Slowly he wiped it off, with the back of one sleeve.
"Foolish, foolish girl to have sided against me. You could have had so much and now you will have nothing."
The holy sword, Maya, hesitantly approached the ring of men around Yoko and Angelo. Yoko saw her and cried out.
"How could you have led me here? We were friends."
The woman's face fell, but she shored it up. "It is for your own good. They've twisted your thinking. They've made you forsake all that you held dear. We'll save you. The Prophet has promised to bring you back into the fold."
"He's not going to save me." Yoko sobbed. "He's going to destroy me. Can't you see that?"
Maya shook her head. Angelo smiled, looking over his shoulder at the holy sword. "You do your faith justice, Maya. But, she's quite right, you know. There's no salvation for her now that she's been tainted."
The woman opened her mouth, not certain how to take that. Angelo didn't say a word, but force ripped out him and into Maya. Fingers of black power that tore through her body like hail through the thinnest sheet of tissue. The snow was darkened with blood and barely recognizable pieces of what had been a human body. She'd hardly had the time to scream it happened so fast.
Yoko did. Yoko screamed until Angelo back handed her into silence and then she hung in the grip of those who held her with her vision spinning and fear eating at her like a cancer. He put his hands in her hair and lifted her head. Blood trickled down from the corner of her lip. She stared back at him dazedly. His eyes bore into her, his hand slid down her throat to lay splay fingered across her chest.
"Oh and he has tainted you, hasn't he?" The Prophet whispered. "What is this that grows in your womb? A spawn of his? Oh, how very perfect. How very convenient."
"No." She whimpered, the fear exploding into palatable panic; sudden realization of the other life that was threatened here. "Oh, goddess, please no."
"Yes." He said.
Power blossomed in her that she hardly knew she had. Energy and magic that she had no name for save desperation. Explosive force propelled outwards, blasting the men around her backwards, clearing a space around her, save Angelo who merely lifted a hand to shield his eyes and stood firm against her summoning. He simply stared at her, while his men were trying to shake the shock off and climb to their feet. She ran. Darted past the dazed men in the snow and into the fringe of forest behind the campsite. Through low branched furs that tore at her when she passed, into the muffled recesses of a forest asleep in deepest winter.
She pelted up the slope, grabbing at limbs and trees to help her when the passage grew too steep. Her feet slipped in the snow and in the rocks and roots that were hidden under it. She fell so many times she lost count. She heard them after her. The sound of heavy bodies crashing through the forest in her wake. The breath came so hard in her chest that it hurt. Tears streamed down her face, filling her mouth when she gasped after air.
She ran blindly in her panic, no thought in her head but saving herself and the child she carried. A small part of her mind tried to reason the best course of action. What would Rushie do? Destroy them all effortlessly. No good help for her there. Gara? Blend into the forest and hide before he struck. She tried to recall the incantation she had used so long ago to sneak past the temple guards and get into Rushie's cell, but her mind was too fractured, her attention too divided between the sounds of the men behind her and dwelling on what Angelo might do to her if he caught her. Why hadn't she gone to Kall-Su before setting out so blindly faithful? He would have reasoned with her, or at the very least not let her go alone.
She topped the rise and on the other side was a steep and treacherous slope, so rocky that only a few persistent trees sprouted up from its surface. There was no choice but to attempt it. She ran along the ridge until she found a place that offered somewhat stable footing and slid down, falling to her backside and sliding a few feet until she caught hold of a scraggly tree to stop her descent. She looked back and saw the dark forms of her pursuers on the ridge. She let go and scooted further down. There was a gully at the bottom, far below, that seemed to run between the slopes of two rises into another section of wood.
"There's no escaping me, Yoko." Angelo's voice echoed above her. He stood on the ridge, robes fluttering in the wind, while his men climbed down after her. Panicked, she scrambled further down the slope. Her boot slipped on snow covered rock and destroyed her balance. Her feet went out from under her and she hit the ground, shoulder and hip and lost all control of her descent. Like a broken doll she tumbled down the rocky slope, a nightmare voyage of pain and fear laced adrenaline. She couldn't breath, she couldn't think, couldn't even grab for handhold her momentum built so fast. She crashed against a rock and rebounded off it and ended up at the bottom in a pain that she could not associate with any state of being she had ever experienced. Her arm was twisted under her unnaturally, her hip throbbing and pounding with bone deep hurt. Her head spun and liquid that was warm seeped down from her hairline into her eyes. But the agony in her stomach was the worst. Like white hot pokers were piercing the lining of her belly.
She could not even curl in the reflexive effort to protect herself when they came down to stand over her, blocking out the light. Blocking out her consciousness. She came too a moment later, brought back by another stab of intense pain. Angelo crouched over her, looking at her oddly, as if she were a butterfly he had caught and pinned living to a board. He reached out and captured a bit of blood from her forehead, looked at it critically, then wiped it off upon her cloak.
"If he hadn't touched you, I might have still attempted to save your soul. You might have been granted redemption. But I'll have nothing to do with a whore tainted by that hell spawn."
She spasmed and wetness flowed down her thighs. Her whole body convulsed. Angelo lifted a brow curiously.
"Its trying to get out. I should help it."
Blood ran down her throat, strangling her when she tried to scream out. His hands hovered above her belly and a glow spread between them. It cast his face in a demonic, orange light. She did scream then and spewed blood in the expulsion of air. It spattered Angelo's face. But then his hands were already bloody. His hands held something small and covered with gore of her own making. It was silent and still and no life pulsed within it.
The tears mixed with the blood. She was weakening so fast that all she could do was whimper when he placed it next to her in the blood stained snow. Then he rose and looked down at her one more time.
"He will regret with his last breath ever challenging me."
Then he was gone. They were all gone and all Yoko saw was the red film of pain and madness that bled over her vision and dragged her into darkness.
She came to with a start and a jarring of pain in her arm. The ache in her belly was numb and hollow. Her thoughts were liquid things that spilled through her mind like water escaping from a sieve. Nothing made sense. Reality was a foreign, distant thing that held little meaning for her. She tried to turn to free her arm and the whole of her body protested. She could barely move. The numbness spread from her belly outwards to all her limbs. Something small and frozen lay beside her. She tilted her head to look down and saw an indistinguishable lump. Small, curled body, with limbs pressed close against the torso. All covered in cold blood. She couldn't understand its presence. She moved her good arm and touched it. Cold, cold, cold in death. Her vision grayed. She came back with the growing realization of what this was. She screamed. A hoarse, pitiful cry of devastation. She mouthed the words of supplication to the goddess that would grant her healing magics. She poured everything she had, everything she was into that frozen little body until there was nothing left for her.
Then she drifted deep into a place where she wasn't certain she might ever come back from. But there was no pain there. And no remorse or tragedy. She fled there eagerly and left the world behind.
Schneider overtook Kall-Su at the foot of the mountains. He had come overland without the benefit of a horse. That meant non stop flying for three days straight, which was no minor feat, but one that covered distance quickly and efficiently. He had come twice the distance they had and they had traveled at a grueling pace, hardly stopping to rest during the night. Kall's tracker was having an easy time of it, no snow having fallen to obscure the path.
Schneider sat down before Kall's horse and stared levelly up at him.
"Have you found her?"
He took a breath. There was cold accusation under the layer of calm Schneider exhibited.
"We're close. The trail is fresh."
Schneider looked at the ground, drew his brows and waved an impatient hand at Kall's party in general. "Well get on with it."
Up the mountain trail, with Schneider in the air above them. It began to snow. Kall cursed the weather, contemplating a spell to drive the snow away when his scout pointed down the trail ahead of them to the remains of a campsite. They galloped down the path towards it. Kall dismounted even as Schneider touched earth to stare balefully at the pit where the fire had been. It was cold, but only by a few hours.
"They were here. We just missed them." His scout said. The man pointed down the trail to the south. "Horses went that way. Maybe fifteen mounted men."
"What's this?" One of his men stood over a section of muddied snow. He walked over and Schneider did and the two of them looked down on what became recognizable as bits of armor and chunks of flesh. The scavengers had been at it. There were the tracks of small feet in the snow around the stain. Kall drew an aborted, horrified breath thinking that it might have been her.
"Its not Yoko." Schneider said grimly, then his eyes turned towards the wood, drawn there by a tiny tendril of power. Kall scented it too, a moment after Schneider was in the air and rocketing over the treelined ridge. He followed suit, leaving his men staring up at them.
Over the ridge and there was nothing but a rocky gully below. He faltered in mid-air when his eyes were drawn to a splash of color at the bottom. A sprawled, twisted figure lying in red stained snow. Schneider was already beside it -- beside her. It was Yoko. Still and broken.
Kall landed a few yards away, stunned. Schneider was bent over her, hair all but obscuring her head and shoulders, crooning to her or himself, Kall wasn't sure which. He cried out and pulled her up into his arms and something small and ghastly rolled away from her limp body. Power radiated from Schneider, focused on Yoko. Kall wasn't sure if she was alive. The snow melted in a radius of fifty yards around where Schneider kneeled, holding Yoko. Kall felt the warmth of healing; of transferred energies so great he had to take a step backwards.
"Kall ..." Schneider didn't look up at him, head still bent over the girl in his arms, he sounded unsteady and weak. Hesitantly Kall approached, knelt beside them, one gloved hand resting in the snow. The little red thing lay not far from his knee. He stared down at it in dismay. He knew what it was. It was clear what it was from the blood staining Yoko's tunic and pants. There was so much blood.
The energies still flowed from Schneider. Like the flow of her blood.
"Get us out of here." Schneider said softly, still not looking up at him. "I don't -- think I can do it."
He couldn't find her. There was life, he felt the weak spark of it burning within her, but it seemed as if her spirit was not attached to it. All there was was that pitiful little core of life and magic that had surged one last time before her strength gave out. Drained her of strength and spirit that she had directed not inwards, for her own salvation but towards another. Towards the lifeless little body that lay curled in the snow beside her. All for nothing for that soul was long gone. Long beyond any hope of help. And she had wasted her strength uselessly.
Silly, silly girl, to throw away her life like that. He squeezed her tight against him, feeling the slow seepage of blood soak through his tunic. He fed strength into her, trying to fix the ills of her body, the mend the rips in flesh and the breaks in bone, to renew the bounty of her spirit and succeeded in all but one. The well of her soul just drank up the energy and spilled it who knew where, for it certainly did not retain it. And he kept giving it to her because he could not fathom the spark of boundless spirit and life that was Tia Note Yoko extinguishing. It was not conceivable or acceptable that she not exist in the same world he did. So he went after her. He went to that dark place, following the thin trail she had left, the only string connecting her still to the mortal world.
He had been there before. The void. A realm where sensation meant nothing, where will was an abstract term. Where nothing mattered but endless, featureless existence. It pulled at awareness, sinking its tendrils into a mind and numbing it, wanting all purpose and thought to cease. He repelled the urge to just drift, repelled the urge to give up the frantic search and the trials of life, rebelled the numbness that seeped into his soul. He hated this place. This in-between. Hated it more than what waited on the other side, because at least there emotion existed. Here there was nothing. But here at least there was a chance of getting her back.
There were a thousand aimless, drifting souls here. The line became blurred and he poured his heart into finding her among the multitudes. Her unique scent, her unique spirit that was precious and irreplaceable. It was there, threatening to break the fragile thread that connected it still to Yoko's physical form. She struggled to break the thread and he engulfed her, stilling the struggle, surrounding her with his own energy, infusing her with his strength to reinforce the line. He felt the panic, the dismay the single driving thought that separated her from all the other souls in attendance. She wanted to pass on into the other realm because the small, sleeping spirit that she had been connected to for so many months had already passed that way.
She fought against him. It was almost overpowering, the desire to follow the infant soul. She almost dragged him with her, almost drained him of the power to bring them both back. She shocked him with her reserves of power. He had to delve into his to subdue her, to pull them back along the thread to the faint glowing light that was life and world and reality.
She shuddered faintly in his arms and he felt dizzy and rubbery with weakness. Relief flooded him. She was there. Deeply unconscious, but her soul rested where it ought, in the precious shell of her body.
"Kall ...." he murmured, shutting his eyes against an all consuming light-headedness. He heard the snow shift nearby; felt Kall's presence, but could not quite gather the strength to lift his eyes and look at him.
"Get us out of here. I don't -- think I can do it."
A hesitant silence, then. "The baby?"
The baby. The payment to Mother that she could take now if she so wished. Did this count? He felt sick contemplating it. He didn't know. If she wanted it, then he would put it where it might be closest to her.
"Bury it." He said.
"All right." Soft reply from Kall. Miserable reply.
He fed her still, because he was afraid she might drift away again, she had been that adamant about it. He wanted her back within the walls of Sta-Veron. He wanted himself clear headed enough to understand what had happened and who had been responsible.
"Can you stand?" Kall asked, putting a hand under his arm. "Let me take her."
"No." Jealous of what he had almost lost, he held her closer and attempted to gain his feet on his own. Then everything became disoriented and his vision grayed. He toppled backwards and Kall caught him and held him there, supporting the both of them.
"Its okay. Its okay." Kall sounded scared. He was shaking more than Schneider was. He lifted the three of them into the air, arms around Schneider who in turn cradled Yoko. The change in orientation, the loss of the solid ground under him did it. He blacked out and the entire time until he opened his eyes again, he felt like he was falling. Only he never hit.
And the snow was gone and there was warmth and softness and a ceiling over his head. He blinked up at it, trying to gather his wits. Taking account of himself and the state of his being.
"Hello." Arshes said. He turned his head to find her sitting in a chair at the side of the bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her expression wan. He tried to think of why he was here and she was there and there was noise in confusion in the hallway outside. The sound of voices and hurrying feet and general clatter.
"How are you?" She asked. He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes, recalling the sensation of falling. Recalling --- other things. He bolted upright, wild eyed and panicked and she rose, crossing the space between chair and bed to place hands on his chest.
"She's all right. She's safe. Its you I worry about, giving so much of yourself. Don't you have the sense to know when to stop?"
"How long? How long have I been asleep?" He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was naked under the sheets. Arshes surveyed him clinically.
"Since you passed out? Two days. Kall-Su flew you straightway back. We only just put you to bed."
There were no handy clothes, so he snatched up the sheet and wrapped it about himself as he stalked for the door. She did not try and stop him. She knew him too well for that. She followed him out it and into the hall. Yoko's room seemed the general goal for most of the commotion. The staff was in an uproar. He saw the concern and the fear in the faces of every maid he passed, when they weren't frozen in shock at seeing him march down the hall half naked. There were a great cluster of them outside her door, talking in hushed little groups. Gara stood in the doorway, caressing the Murasume. He glanced over his shoulder at Schneider's approach and stepped aside. His face was grim and deadly.
The bedchamber was less crowded. Only the housekeeper and one of the maids who was delivering a basin of warm water. Yoko was asleep under a mountain of white sheets and blankets. The fire roared warmly, the curtain were pulled, letting in only a slant of sunlight.
One step into the room and he hesitated, afraid to go closer. Afraid to see how fragile and wounded she was. He had healed her injuries, he knew that, but the mind did not always recover as quickly as the body. And he could not heal the mind, only pull the soul back from the precipice of death.
His hands were shaking. Here in front of witnesses, so he crossed his arms and held onto his elbows to hid it. Still weak, he told himself. Just the strain showing. Yoko should be up and bouncing off the walls what with all the energy he had given her. He wasn't up to it. Keitlan pursed her lips at his hesitancy and beckoned him over with an impatient gesture of her hand.
"You've clothes in the wardrobe." She reminded him archly, then patted his arm consolingly. "You're pale as a ghost. You should be back in bed and leaving her to her rest."
"Has she woken?"
"Oh, several times. Took breakfast, which is more than I can say for you. I had to force it on her though, poor child. Hasn't said a word. Not a single word. Just stares into space, then goes back to sleep. Lord Kall-Su said she was badly injured. That she almost died."
"She might have." He said, distracted by the fluttering of Yoko's lids, the trembling of her lips.
"Who did it to her? What monster would do such a thing?" Keitlan's eyes teared over and water spilled down her ruddy cheeks. Schneider opened his mouth, not quite having mulled that question over. It was a very good one. He thought he knew the answer. It made his blood boil. The air around him crackled with a flashflood of anger. Keitlan let out a little squeal and jumped back.
"I'm going out there to look for them." Gara said from the doorway. Arshes stood at his shoulder, her eyes just a grim as the ninja master's.
"Kall's men are still out there, looking for the trail, but if it is the Prophet, then they'll be damned little good against him."
"It was him." Schneider growled. He wanted to vent the anger so bad it hurt. There was the sound of armored men moving the hallway. Kall-Su and his captain of the guard, Kiro. Kiro stood in the hall, Kall stepped into the room.
"You're awake." He looked particularly relieved at that state. There was still worry in his eyes. There ought to be. He'd let an agent of Angelo's spirit Yoko away.
"You let this happen." Schneider hissed, moving around the bed. "You let her ride out of here into that bastard's hands."
"Now wait a minute --" Gara started in defense. Kall's eyes had gone huge.
"I'm sorry --"
"She almost died!!" He lashed out, caught Kall a backhanded blow that withheld nothing of his strength. Kall spun, hit the door frame and leaned there, fingers clutching at it for support, face pressed into the wood. Kiro almost drew his sword, but Arshes put her hand on his to stop the action. Every servant in the hall was ashen faced and shocked.
"What the fuck good are you if you can't even keep track of where she is? Did you see what he did to her?"
"Its not his fault." Gara shouted at him. "How in hell could he have known. She snuck out. She's damned wily enough to get her way when she wants it. She got you out of Meta-Rikan past a whole damn city looking for you, didn't she?"
He didn't want to hear it. He wanted to rage and rant. He wanted to hurt somebody as much as he hurt. "Get out!!" he screamed at them all. "Get the hell out!!"
And they went. Gara put his hands on Kall, who shook them off, pushing himself off the doorframe and turning without a look at Schneider and walking off. Gara cast one not quite scathing glare into the room.
"We're going to find him." He promised. Arshes nodded her agreement to that. The housekeeper was the last to scurry past him. But she paused at the door, as brave or braver than Gara and said with a disapproving frown.
"Its because you love her that you're so angry. But his lordship doesn't deserve your ire." Then she was out the door and shutting it behind her.
He didn't know what to do then, plummeted into silence and solitude. He went to the bedside and stared down at Yoko. Sank down to sit on the edge of it. Touched her smooth cheek.
Months of hearing nothing from the Prophet and he was back. And he dared to attack something of Schneider's. He dared to destroy a life that she and he had created, regardless of the desperate pact with Mother. He had held the notion that he could find a way out of that. He could find a way around anything if he tried hard enough. He recalled a vague memory of the pitiful little corpse in the dirtied snow. He had been too distracted with Yoko to pay it much heed. No bigger than his hand, but perfectly formed. A child of his. His flesh.
A tear trailed down his cheek and he wiped at it furiously. Another followed in its wake. He didn't know whether it was anger or remorse that made him cry. He preferred to think it was anger, but the other tore at his heart with razored claws. He put a hand to his forehead, grasping hair in his fist, incapable of doing more than sit there and shake. It was a new experience. An anger and a hurt that incapacitated him to the point that he could not fly off immediately in a quest for vengeance. He could not in all of his long life, remember anything that hurt as much as this. No wonder Yoko wanted to sleep. It dulled the pain.