THE NEXT CHAPTER! MWAHAHA yah.
Note - Well, I've decided to try something new...depending on whose point of
view it is, depends on how Shanti will be referred to.
-Also, 'Mea (maxima) culpa' - 'Through my (most grievous) fault'
'Kyrie eleison' - 'Lord have mercy'
Tenkuu no Ryuugekitai - Mononoke-tachi Dake...
'GATTI!'
Shanti shakingly stepped backwards, away from the broken, shattered window.
The horrified look on Shesta's face...the disbelief reflected in Guimel's
eyes...the way they both stared wide-eyed at each other... Gatti had fallen.
Fallen to his death.
'No no no no...' Shesta's glance turned to Shanti. The Highlander was
shaking his head slowly, his eyes wide and blank as he seemed to be muttering
something incoherent to himself. Shesta watched the red-haired boy suddenly
fall to his knees, his fists slamming into the cold floor.
It's your fault... do something! He'll die... do something... it's your
fault!
…Mea culpa...
A lump formed in Shesta's throat as he heard Shanti scream out Gatti's name in a heart-wrenching sob. The blond boy wanted to go over to the other, comfort and be comforted by him, but before he could move, Shanti suddenly stopped his crying and stood up. He started to walk mechanically towards them, his hazel eyes filled with a frightening determination. Then, without warning, the Highlander broke out into an all-out sprint.
'What-'
In one quick, fluid movement, Shanti jumped and dove clear through the broken window. Shesta spun on his heel and thrust his head over the edge. The Highlander fell spread-eagled, his long braid twisting in the wind.
'Shanti! Shanti, NO!' He heard Guimel's voice sounded choked as he
yelled after yet another fallen comrade. A second later, Shanti passed the edge
of the Vione and disappeared through the moonlit covering of clouds. Shesta
became dimly aware of Guimel's jaw hanging loosely open as they both peered
into the night sky in a shocked silence that was broken by a soft drip...
drip... drip... Numbly, Shesta reached up and brushed away the tears that
rained from his eyes.
Dalet watched the scene from the floor where Guimel and Shesta had dropped him.
In a child-like manner, he clapped his hands together once.
'Splat.'
***
The wind whipped at her eyes, causing them to water. The tears rolled back
across her temples and lost themselves in her flaming red hair.
Gatti, I'm so sorry... you did this for me,
...Mea culpa...
But I'll repay you.
'I wonder,' Shanti mused. '...if I were to die, would I be replaced...?'
'No,' the voice of Gatti came from the far corner, 'because I'll make sure you
never die.'
After all you've done for me.
Shanti closed her moist eyes tightly and concentrated on one image. She had
only a few seconds, before...
A dull throbbing surfaced from the gouges in her back. She clenched her fists
and pressed further into the image, submersing herself into it and letting it
overtake her. The throbbing intensified into sharp flashes of pain.
Come on, come on... In a surging wave, pressure and pain combined into
one. Shanti cried out as she felt something pushing out from under her skin,
like a trapped creature struggling to free itself. Her entire mind, being, and
soul focused onto the image.
Feather.
In a thundering explosion of rustling, a pair of large, black shadows erupted
from her shoulders; bursting through the open skin of her wounds in a flurry of
ebony movement. Blood trickled in crimson channels across her back as the dark
shirt she wore was ripped to shreds. The fabric flew away from her, leaving her
body exposed to the cold night and the biting wind. By some miracle, the
bandages clung to her upper torso, giving Shanti some level of modesty.
Unused to the newly-formed muscles and senses, Shanti clumsily spread the
jet-coloured feathers, learning quickly how to steer herself. She had studied
birds before, watching them in flight. Carefully, the Highlander folded the two
structures tightly against her body and immediately went into a nose-dive at
break-neck speed, the wind now nipping and scratching at her bare skin.
She despised them. It was because of them that those men took her...poked and
prodded and injected her with their 'transfusions'. These creations, a fusion
of bone, muscle, and feather. Shanti had never known what had been done to her;
her records were secrets that were kept and never spoken about. All she knew
was that they were the cause of all her pain; those abhorrent, freakish things.
Ironic how such hated things would help her.
***
A second passed, then another. Mere moments after Shanti had disappeared into the canopy of clouds, Guimel suddenly sprang to life. He grabbed Shesta and started to pull him to the door.
'Come on, Shesta! We can catch them! We're high enough, we can catch them!'
Guimel noticed resistance from the shorter boy, who shook his head slowly. The
taller Slayer furrowed his brow.
'Come on, let's go! If we run now, we can get to our Alseides and fly out and
save them!' Shesta's baby-blue eyes were over-flowing with tears now; sliding
in wet trails down his pale cheek and splashing onto the floor. The expression,
the deep sorrow and grief that also flowed from those eyes... Guimel tossed his
head, his platinum hair whipping into his cheeks as he pulled Shesta with all
his strength; strength that was failing him.
'Shesta, please! We can save them!' His lip trembled as he spoke, unaware or
uncaring of the tears that were filling his indigo eyes.
'We can save them... they're not going to... they're not...' Guimel took
another step for the door before his legs collapsed out from under him. He
barely felt Shesta rush to support him as he fell to the ground. Cruel
realization struck the boy harshly, sinking in and boring its way into the very
depths of his heart.
'They're... Shesta... they...'
'They're gone, Guimel...' Shesta's voice sounded strangely calm as he
struggled to control the sobs that threatened to break free. Guimel nodded his
head faintly in unwilling acceptance. He was numb. First Migel, then Gatti;
Shanti at the same time.
Why? Why had he jumped?
Lifelessly, the Slayer looked up. He became aware of Shesta holding onto him,
his small frame shaking gently. Guimel wished he would just cry, scream out,
yell, DO something! But Shesta stayed silent. As Guimel wiped away a
stray tear that had fallen from his eyes, he heard a soft groan come from the
far corner.
Dalet lay crumpled dejectedly in a heap underneath the windowsill where they
had dropped him. Guimel noticed him clap his hands together and mutter
something, and felt a sudden, deep fire ignite in the pit of his broken heart.
Dalet.
The fire consumed him, and in the blink of an eye he had crossed the room and
pounced onto the disoriented Slayer.
'Guimel, don't!' The platinum blond boy refused to hear Shesta. He picked up the other and threw him against a wall. Dalet hit the stone with a dull thud, and gracelessly slid to the floor. His eyelids flickered, the lilac eyes beneath trying to focus. Guimel came at him again in a flurry of fists.
'Guimel, stop it!'
'You bastard! You killed them! YOU KILLED THEM!' Dalet tried to move, but Guimel had straddled his chest. The infuriated boy swung his arm back and struck the other again and again until Shesta appeared from behind, grabbing his arms and twisted them backwards, crushing his shoulderblades together. Guimel struggled fiercely as the short blond pulled him off of Dalet and onto his feet.
'Settle down!' Dalet, using the wall for support, shakingly stood himself up. He peered through swelling eyes at his attacker, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. His dark eyes burning like coals, Guimel snarled at the beaten boy; more of a beast than a man. He stopped struggling against Shesta; pretending to have calmed down until his blond captor lessened his grasp slightly. Feeling the pressure removed from his back, the Slayer ripped his arms from Shesta and lunged at Dalet again.
'MURDERER!' Grabbing him by the collar, Guimel slammed the coffee-haired boy into the wall once more, and held him there with his elbow against his neck.
'DIE! I want you to die!' The fear he saw in Dalet's eyes fueled his rage,
and he pressed his elbow into the other's throat until Shesta grabbed his arms
again.
'I hope you DIE, you coward!' Shesta's grip was surprisingly strong this time,
and Guimel found he couldn't break free. Instead he inhaled deeply and spat
directly at Dalet. The spit hit the other in the cheek, but he didn't brush it
away.
'I...' Dalet's eyes suddenly opened widely; so wide you could see the white
clearly framing the lilac irises. His trembling hand went slowly to his mouth.
You killed them… YOU killed them.
...Mea maxima culpa...
Murderer.
His lips moved in a soft, horrified whisper.
'Oh my god...what have I done...?'
***
The glass shard struck his hand, embedding itself deep into the skin.
Involuntarily, Gatti had released his grip - his one last hope of survival.
And now he fell.
...Fallen from grace...
The wind whipped his hair as he fell headfirst, a spinning mass of splayed arms
and legs. Faintly he had heard Shanti scream out his name. He estimated he had
only moments until he slammed into the ground; his soft body would impact with
the hard side of the sharp mountains and be crushed by the sheer force. Head
first, too...his neck would be broken and his skull would-
'I'm not dead yet!' he reminded himself, his words lost into the wind. The
gravitational forces pushed against him with such intensity he thought his
eyelids would peel off.
Well, I don't want to see the ground anyway. Gatti closed his eyes and
tried to think of something pleasant.
Pleasant? You're going to be a red splatter on a rock soon.
Ssh! Quiet, mind.
An image appeared in his head. Shanti leaned towards him, her hair and eyes
shining with a beautiful intensity as they both kissed, a deep, meaningful
caress of lip brushing lip.
I wish I could have said goodbye. I wish... I wish I could have told her
that I
I love you
cared for her. And now she'll never know that... Gatti's body twisted in
the rushing of air so that his back faced the elusive ground. His arms and legs
were limp, the wind moving them at its will like a stringed marionette.
A soft whisper swept by his cheek. He opened his eyes.
He closed them again.
He had not just seen what he thought he had.
Gatti opened his eyes again.
Impossible!
Gatti was surrounded by a hurricane of darkness; a darkness alive with
thousands of ebony feathers moving in a calculated symphony of eternally
adjusting motion...
The jet wings encircled him in a protective cocoon as two pure white arms
thrust out to hold the Slayer gently behind his knees and his neck.
Suddenly, the black shell was shattered as the wings spread apart.
Instinctively, Gatti threw his arms around the pale neck and he felt the wind
biting him lessen. They were still in a dive, but his saviour had positioned
her wings into a steady glide.
They wouldn't make it. He had been falling too long.
Gatti braced himself for impact, his arms grappling tightly around her neck.
The wings flared suddenly, and seconds later he felt a sharp, rough jarring.
Her feet fell hard on the steep rocky side as she struggled to become airborne
again; her heavy footsteps a spontaneous Morse code of drumming against the
rock face. Gatti felt her skipping and sliding along the sheer stone until
without warning she launched herself into the air. A gust of wind arose from
the frantic flapping of the great wings, causing Gatti's ash blond bangs to
swirl around his forehead. Just as suddenly, the harsh friction of foot falling
on rock ended and there was nothing but smooth, light wind.
He was flying! They were flying!
Gatti glanced up at his rescuer, though the clouds had blocked the moon out,
and it was still dark.
'Are you an angel...?'
The clouds disappeared as she burst through the canopy of fog. Moonlight poured
down strong, silver beams, illuminating everything around. There was a
surprisingly familiar flash of fiery red, almost a scarlet colour, as the light
fell upon her hair. Gatti felt a mixture of elation, surprise and fear as he
stared into her eyes. Her mysterious, flecked orbs of green and gold.
'Shanti,' The Highlander looked down at him, her face trying to appear blank
even as her expression held joy and pain. She looked strained and tired, as if
the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and yet she had an inner
happiness that shone through her exhaustion.
Does she feel the same way I do?
They both suddenly dropped as a group of the ever-adjusting feathers
misbehaved. Shanti quickly corrected the error, and soon both Slayers were
smoothly rising again, back to the floating fortress Vione.
***
Shesta felt Guimel loosen up once more, but kept a tight grip on his biceps
just in case the boy would pounce on Dalet again.
The blond went up onto his toes to peer above Guimel's shoulder at Dalet, who
had collapsed in a miserable heap on the floor. Both leather-clad hands were
firmly placed over his mouth as his shoulders shook with sobs. Tears poured out
like waterfalls out of the corner of Dalet's wide, shocked eyes. Shesta was
filled with pity as he listened to the muffled, hysterical bitter cries that seeped
through Dalet's fingers.
How can you pity him? He killed - no, murdered your friend. Your
brother. You should hate him.
Hate him for what he's done? No. I shall pity him, the miserable wretch. He
will live the rest of his life knowing, being tormented and haunted... knowing
that he killed his fellow brother.
...Kyrie Eleison...
Shesta sensed Guimel's fighting spirit slowly leave him, and carefully released his hold on the taller Slayer. Guimel gave a low growl and crossed his arms, glaring a hole into the floor. Shesta walked over to the coffee-haired Slayer, who was sitting on his knees and rocking back and forth. There was a long pause before either boy moved; Shesta standing, looking down at Dalet, who peered up at him through swollen, bloodshot eyes. Shesta noticed he had stopped sobbing; sporadic whimpers accompanied the tears rolling from his moist eyes.
Look at him. He can't even look you in the eye, that's how guilty he
is.
A sniff pierced through the tension and silence of the room. Shesta watched as Dalet
lowered his hands, his bottom lip trembling.
'Sh - Shesta...' His voice cracked, and Dalet's face crumpled up; fresh
tears coming to his eyes. He threw himself at Shesta's feet, his head bowed as
he burst out wailing,
'I- I'm so... so sorry... Oh, what... have I done...? I'm sorry... I'm so
sorry...'
Ignoring the smell of alcohol that hung around the boy like an aura, Shesta
knelt down and placed his hand gently on the dark, bowed head.
He doesn't deserve your forgiveness. He doesn't deserve to live.
I know.
Shesta heard Dalet gasp in surprise and raise his head to look at him in
shock. The blue-eyed boy said nothing, but the faintest of phantom smiles
appeared on his lips, reassuring. Dalet understood...he had been forgiven
without a single word spoken. And somehow...somehow the pain from his bleeding
lip, and black eyes, and terrible headache all dissipated into nothingness.
Hearing the crunch of glass under foot, Shesta looked over his shoulder at
Guimel, and saw he had stalked his way over to the window.
I hope that one day, you'll understand Guimel.
As he turned his head back to Dalet, the small boy heard a strange choking
noise from Guimel's direction. Glancing back once again, Shesta noticed Guimel
had gone completely white, his jaw working to form words that persisted in
staying unspoken.
'Guimel, what's wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost,'
Suddenly a great wind filled the room, and the light from the window was
blocked out. When the strange eclipse of light had ended, Shesta found he and
Dalet clinging tightly to each other, and Guimel fallen on his backside making
small, whimpering noises. In front of Guimel lay a large, hardly moving shadow.
Shesta stood and stepped carefully, slowly, towards the silhouette. As he
neared, the form suddenly moved, and lifted to reveal a smaller group of
shadows underneath. Something caught his blue eye... an object that had dropped
from the shadows into the moonlight.
A long black feather.
The Slayer suddenly realized... those were wings that had lifted. Wings that
were now outstretched, and disappearing feather by feather to reveal two
figures. Moonlight spilled into the room through the broken window to give an
outline of the two; one with pale, almost silvery-looking hair sprawled half-underneath
the second figure. Shesta squinted, and blanched as he recognized exactly whose
silvery hair it was.
'Ga.. Gatti?!'
The wings had completely disappeared now. The first shadow – Gatti - softly
spoke to his comrade, who was breathing heavily, and then suddenly scrambled to
his feet. He fell, and stood up once more, falling and rising until at last he
made it to the bed. Grabbing the blanket, the boy continued in the same fashion
back to the other, wrapping him up in it, as if to conceal something.
As Shesta slowly gathered his wits, he heard Guimel babbling,
'It-It's the ghost of Gatti coming to haunt us!' From the sound of his voice, Shesta thought Guimel was going to wet himself. 'I knew I shouldn't have taken his book. I'm sorry, ghost of Gatti! Just please... don't hurt meeh...' The 'ghost of Gatti' raised a brow, and walked over to the frightened boy. Shesta held his breath as he knelt down and extended a hand to Guimel.
'Do spirits bleed?' The curly-haired Slayer blinked, and touched the piece of glass that had cut deeply into Gatti's hand, causing him to wince. Shesta saw the blood that dripped down the injured hand, watched Guimel feel the blood on his fingertips...
'You... you're alive,' Seeing the boy's nod, Shesta felt his heart beat hard in his chest.
'You're alive!!' As one, Shesta and Guimel practically pounced upon the boy, hugging him and laughing and ruffling his hair with tears of joy streaming from their eyes. Gatti laughed along with them, and Shesta thought he saw the delicate sparkle of water in the corner of the taller boy's eyes.
'But how...?' he started to asked. Gatti blinked, and suddenly sprang back to the second figure lying on the floor. He poked at it gently, and Shesta heard a familiar voice groan,
'Lemme 'lone...'
'Is that... Shanti?' With wide blue eyes, Shesta watched in awe as Shanti,
who had been lying on his stomach, propped himself up on his forearms and
looked at him. His long red hair was tangled and hanging in his eyes, and he
looked haggard. Shesta hugged him tightly around the neck anyway.
'It's a miracle,' he cried. 'I can't... I can't believe it! You're alive!' He
felt Shanti stiffen, then gently hug him back.
Dalet watched from a distance, unwilling to ruin their moment. He watched as
Guimel wiped away the tears from his indigo eyes - eyes that had so recently
been filled with rage. He watched as Shesta moved the messy bangs from Shanti's
eyes like a mother cat fussing over her kitten.
Finally, he watched Gatti give Shanti a cryptic smile, and lift her up to hold
her against him in a secretively innocent gesture.
Have I been atoned? Have I been given a second chance?
Silently, Dalet crept around the crying, laughing quartet to the door. It
wasn't his time yet. For now, he would retreat; sleep off his hangover and
skulk in the shadow like the dog he was.
I'll keep your secret. Perhaps then you may forgive me. Without looking
back, Dalet closed the door behind him and walked away.
*****
Morning. Already.
Get up, lazy. You have a task to do for your dying comrade.
He's not dying. He'll get better.
Migel sighed and willed his eyes to open. He had fallen asleep in a chair in
Dante's room. Dante was still sleeping, his sides barely moving as he breathed
unevenly.
He'll get better.
Migel picked up his crutch and stood up, balancing on his good leg. Yawning
deeply, the chestnut-haired Slayer reached up to the ceiling to stretch out all
the cramps and cricks that had snuck their way into his joints. He wiped the
sleep out of his grey-green eyes and, with his crutch, made his way to his room
to wash up.
In the hallway, he nearly bumped into Mikyla.
''Mornin'...' His voice was soft and raspy with sleep and ache, so he decided
to add his winning smile. The girl looked at him with a slight nod and then
continued on her way. Migel blinked in surprise.
She brushed me off! His heart more hurt than his pride, the Dragon
Slayer limped to his room and cleaned himself off. The water was cold, but it
woke him up. Migel looked at his hair in the mirror, shrugged...then changed
his mind and brushed it until the chestnut strands gleamed. Satisfied, he dug
through the pile of clothes Mikyla had left for him. All he had to say for
himself were his black leather uniform pants, though the leather had faded and
lost its squeaky, shiny quality, and there was a large rip from where he
injured his leg. Although most of them were rags, Migel found a black overshirt
that seemed to be in good condition.
It was more of a coat than a shirt; the hem reaching to mid-thigh with
wrist-length, loose sleeves that turned up in cuffs. Migel found it was similar
to his Dragon Slayer jacket as he zipped it up; instead of being lined with
gold, the coat was silver-lined with a dark bluish green band instead of a blue
one. Although the coat was smooth instead of having a two-pieced, kilt-like
appearance, the familiar straps at his waist were present and rested snugly
over his hips. Migel found an old pair of black boots and a black shawl to put
around his shoulders -he didn't need a cloak; it was going to be hot that day-
and admired himself in the mirror.
I haven't put anything besides my uniform on for so long. He thought,
rather vainly, that the green and silver on the coat complimented his eyes and
hair quite nicely...
Get on with it, you peacock.
Right.
Migel, crutch tucked under arm, went back to Dante's room to take his gold. As he entered, he saw Mikyla sitting beside Dante with a bowl of gruel, trying to coax him to eat. It was a heart-touching scene, seeing the girl spooning small mouthfuls of the goo into Dante's mouth and speaking to him softly and encouragingly. Quietly, so as not to disturb them, Migel fetched the black pouch of gold and tied it to the strap on his right hip.
'Going out.' he said. Mikyla gave a curt nod without even looking at him.
With a short sigh, Migel left the room and went outside. The sun shone brightly
in the sky as small ribbons of scarlet and crimson clung to the faint outline
of the Stahl Mountains in the distance. With the aid of his crutch, Migel
walked down the cobblestone street towards the city's square, where the
marketplace was located. By the time he had reached it, the marketplace was
alive with people and shops and stalls of shouting vendors.
It's nothing like Zaibach, Migel thought. The people were just too
alive...human and beast-people alike. The native Freidans were darkly tanned
with bright, colourful clothing and jewellery. Migel suddenly felt out of place
in his black outfit amongst the flurry of bright magentas, blood reds, golden
yellows and deep blues. Even the poorest of people, he noticed, still had some
piece of colour on them somewhere.
Making his way through the crowded street, Migel discovered one wooden stall
swathed in bright green fabric with many articles of jewellery displayed.
Crutching his way over, the boy took one look at the rings and realized he had
never gone shopping before. What sort of ring would she like? Did she like
brightly shining gold rings, or sleek, silver ones? What about jewels? Did
girls like rings encrusted with diamonds and emeralds?
Seeing his look of utter despair, the vendor, a beast-person walked over. He
was a fox-man, and looked friendly.
'Are you looking for a ring?' Migel nodded. He wouldn't be able to shout
over the noise of the crowd, so he tapped at his throat to indicate he couldn't
speak. The fox-man gave a look of sympathy, and took up guessing.
'You look like a young man. Are you looking for a wedding ring?'
Nod!
'Ah! A lucky girl, she is! I think I have just the one,' The vendor chose two
rings; one gold with a center diamond framed by two smaller ones on either
side, and the other another gold band with an intricate design of a knotwork of
dragons - 'From the Highlands,' he said. Pausing, Migel decided on the first
ring, with the diamonds. He paid for it (a little more than he would have liked
to), gave a thankful smile and limped away through the marketplace. Zaibach had
never been like this, so alive with colour, the sound of vendors shouting that
their wares were of far better quality, (and for a good price too!), and music
from street performers.
I might like to live here. Migel thought. As he moved to a more open
part of the square, something caught his eye. Looking into the sky, the boy was
alarmed to see a small, yet well-known black object suspended in the air in the
far horizon...
A Zaibach floating fortress?
No, it wasn't just one. Squinting, Migel could just barely make out the forms
of almost a dozen or more fortresses moving into a formation.
So many fortresses together! It doesn't make sense. A chill ran down his
spine as he remembered learning Zaibach strategies early in his training.
They're grouping to invade. Zaibach is going to attack Freid!