A/N: Hehe....okay, how about this, if I don't post the next chapter by next Sunday, you get to flame me? Good? Good.
Disclaimers: Gah! I scorn the fickle-minded and those who think me owner of said CCS and intend to sue. Those who are wise read and enjoy! ^__^
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Part IV: Tribulations: Les Tumulte
The heavy water studs landed on the glass plane with a fast-paced "tap tap tap", filling the quiet room with an eerily appealing sound. The clouds behind the small window were drawn together in dark masses, an odd streak of white slithering through the sky. Tree branches with water soaked leaves whipped at the glass, rattling the fragile frame under their force. Overall, it seemed like the beginnings of one whopper of a storm, though this fact was denied by owner of the house.
The four occupants of the room, all of whom were sitting miserably around the large table, stared at the window, counting the flashes of lightning. It has been raining for four days and the atmosphere in the house could not get any drearier. Spinel grumbled under his furry nose. He hated bad weather, mostly because it meant that his tormentor would stay indoors the entire time, making his existence a living Hell. Sighing, he turned his attention to the tome in front of him, "Trale Eccor " (1); though he could not understand a single word in the book (which aggravated him) he liked to guess what it could mean.
"Did you know," Eriol presently began, "that in ancient times the Romans used to count the time in between lightning bolts to determine how far the storm was? They did. And if you counted to one or two --"
"I miss the pretty elves!" Nakuru exclaimed from his seat beside Tomoyo, completely unaware that he was interrupting his master.
Stifling a sharp retort, Spinel shifted as far away from Nakuru as his seating arrangement permitted. Quiet at last, he returned to the line that he was trying to make sense of previously ("ish fer noit porackrate turfer" (2)). The little stuffed-toy-like guardian was beginning to wonder what the words meant (Oh! The possibilities!) when a high-pitched wail disrupted his train of thought. Mumbling curses in many different languages, he turned to the source of the interruption, trying his hardest to feign 'The Glare of Impending Doom' with his large eyes.
"What happened now, you nincompoop?" Spinel asked edgily, his tail twitching slightly.
"I broke my naaaaaaaaiiiiiiillll!!!" The perpetrator whined, his arms flailing about comically. Tomoyo stifled a giggle behind her hand and Eriol snickered into a piece of toast. Spinel growled angrily and moved himself to the window perch. After the initial whimpers, Nakuru settled down and began to amuse himself with the ceiling patterns. The steady rhythm of the rain drops on the window once again filled the room.
Another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, which was followed by the rolling thunder. 'Thirty-three', thought Eriol wearily. Thirty-three lightning flashes. Eriol was bored to the point of insanity. At one point, he debated against going outside to see how quick he would get soaked. That idea hastily evaporated from his mind when he was struck with a mental image of himself fried to a crisp (courtesy Lightning Boltz INC.). Drumming his finders on the tabletop, he looked to Tomoyo, who was presently brushing her long tresses.
Brush. Brush. Brush.
The initial excitement from getting away from the monotonous moors has now worn off, replaced with a dull throb of unease (which was mostly caused by the incessant rain). He still got the bad vibes from this place, but this time he kept it silent, certain that the others felt the same way. On the other hand, he might have been experiencing the magic withdrawal affects, which could have possibly screwed with his brain.
Brush. Brush. Brush
The comb was slicing through the dark cascade, silky hairs in-between wooden teeth. A few glossy strands landed haphazardly on her nape, and Eriol got an irritating urge to sweep them off. The skin, he noted, had a very creamy consistency and contrasted well against the dark hairs. His eyes trailed upward, to her jawbone, delicate yet strong, perfect for smart retorts. A slight hint of pink danced on her cheekbones, making her appear flushed. Her long lashes spread out like a fan on her cheeks, shielding the amethyst orbs from view.
Brush. Brush. Brush.
He liked the way her hands moved, keeping their own rhythm. A look of deep contemplation crossed her face, the dainty eyebrows knitting together in concentration. If Eriol didn't know any better, he could swear that the stilling of her hands meant trepidation. What was she thinking now? About Sakura no doubt. She missed the girl dearly. So much that it was becoming a misery filled hole in her being. It pained him to see her suffer so much; she'd endured enough as it was.
"When do you think the rain will stop?" She asked breaking him away from his reverie.
Shaking his head to get rid of the thoughts that began to invade his head, he replied, "I don't know, but I hope soon. We need to get back the road."
Tomoyo nodded her agreement, continuing to run the brush though her hair. Eriol's attention was once again drawn to her elegant hands and their rhythmic motion. A soft hum escaped the girl's parted lips, which drew his attention to her mouth. It was very pretty, he thought; a full bottom lip graced with a soft pink hue, the upper lip curving delicately. He could just imagine those lips move as she sung, or laughed, or sighed. The soft mouth gave way to the elegant nose, which had a perky lift to it. Her visage was accented with those large eyes and the light curls that framed it. Surely her heart-shaped face was the epitome of Romanesque beauty. He would have to paint her once they returned home, he resolved.
"Ah, Master?" Nakuru broke his thoughts, and Eriol for the first time noticed that he was staring rather rudely.
"What is it, Nakuru?" He almost growled, which surprised him, and turned to look at his guardian.
Shrinking back from Eriol's scrutiny while fumbling with his dress, Nakuru replied, "Um...where *are* we going, Master?"
Staring at his guardian blankly, Eriol's mind stopped mid rant. He had absolutely no idea where they were headed. They'd been told by Goreneil that there was a series of small towns to the north, beyond that was the River Rhoeh (which separated into rivers Arihel and Luthiel). Eriol supposed that was their next course, but what about after that? Where would they go from there? Where could they go with the war so close on the doorstep?
"I don't know," he presently replied, looking at Tomoyo for guidance.
"Maybe we should get a map, Master?" Spinel suggested from his spot on the window perch, his book seemingly forgotten.
It was strange that Eriol had not thought of that himself. A map was the most logical idea. Why, though, did it evade his mind? Was it possible that he enjoyed staying in this realm? Sure it was fun at some points, but so much that he wanted to stay? Impossible! "Where can we find one? Would Goreneil have one?" He asked, his inner questions dying.
"Surely he must," Tomoyo piped in, "he did say that he used to travel."
"Why don't the two of you look for him?" Nakuru stated, excitement bubbling just at the surface of his face.
Eriol knew the not-so-secret intention behind his guardians' reasoning, but he gave up on defending himself a long time ago. Besides, he did not mind Tomoyo's company — it beat counting lightning bolts with a wooden stick. So, taking a near-by candle and gathering a handful of biscuits and stuffing them in his pocket, Eriol headed for the door, gesturing Tomoyo to follow him. Once the two were in the hall, they heard a definite squeal from behind the door.
Both exchanged knowing glances and Eriol shook his head with mild amusement. "He will never change," he said, referring to Nakuru.
As they strolled down the dimly lit corridors, they listened to the rolling beat of thunder overhead (thirty-four, noted Eriol) and the creaking of floorboards underneath their feet. Eriol strained his ears towards the sounds of movement, seeking Goreneil out in the dark tunnels. Nothing. He grimly noted the drop in temperature as they descended further into the ground. Once they reached a sharp turn in the corridor, the amount of lanterns lessened with longer distances in-between them. Eriol also noticed the appearance of numerous doors.
"They are guestrooms, from the time this villa was still an inn," Tomoyo answered his unspoken question. "It seems that most of them have been converted into storage rooms."
"Aa."
The two continued with the march, their pace increasing slightly with the constantly darkening pathway. The decorations that adorned the main interior of the dwelling were reduced to the bare minimum; a dust covered painting here, and a draped chair there. Eriol could distinguish the odd scattering of cobwebs from the light of the candle in his hand. The doorknobs, he noticed when he tried to open one door, were caked with thick layers of dust and left a filthy imprint on his hand (which he wiped off on his pant leg). If he didn't know any better, he could almost swear that the place had not been lived in for decades.
"That doesn't make sense," he murmured under his breath.
"Pardon?" His companion asked from his side.
"Oh, it was nothing. I just think it's strange." Eriol said. "Does this place seem to you a bit vacant? As if no one lived here for a long time?"
"Yes, I've noticed it, too, though I wouldn't put too much into it yet." The girl replied, inching away from a spider web that barred her path. "I reckon these hallways had not been used for a long time; a house this grand is rather hard to take care of."
"I suppose, but still..." His voice trailed off into the darkness and he continued on his way, playing with the possibilities in his mind.
They followed the maze-like corridors, stopping once in a while to listen to sounds of movement. At one point, a cold breeze that seemed somehow dominant in the lower portions of the house blew out the candle and rendered the two in near darkness. Still they pressed on, not wanting to get lost while trying to get back and face the wrath of Spinel once they returned without the map. The temperature dropped to near freezing and Eriol could see his breath coming out in puffs of grey as he breathed. The two remained silent, each too preoccupied with their thoughts.
Eriol, who feared that his fingers would turn a very unattractive shade of purple if the temperature would continue to drop, was thinking of the company's future. As the troupe's leader, he had a responsibility to look out for their best interests. He, however, did not know what dangers they might face in the not-too-distant future. Coupling his hands and breathing into them (as to save a much heat as possible), Eriol turned to his friend. She, too, was lost in her own thoughts, trying to fight off the cold draft.
Eriol wondered whether they would survive to return home, whether they got home at all. This was a different world, different laws and different creatures. The elves for example, Eriol told himself (A/N: I can just imagine a chibi Eriol with a Yamazaki pose ^^). He had absolutely no idea on how they would get back to their world, he wasn't even sure there was a way back. One wrong step might mean demise, something he was not too keen on thinking about. All they could do was watch out for each other and to not stray from their ultimate goal: home.
He let his mind play with his imagination. What would Tomoeda look now? Was it night? A scarlet painted sunset? Were the cherry blossoms twirling on the wind while the breeze whispered a soft lullaby through the leaves? Did anyone miss them? Miss him? Eriol forced his mind to concentrate on the real and the present; such thoughts brought nothing but heartache and had no place in a being of logic such as himself.
"Maybe we took a wrong turn?" The girl beside him suddenly asked, rubbing her shoulders to warm herself up.
"It's possible," he replied, stalling his progression. Stealing another glance of the girl, he decided to change the subject, "What were you thinking back there?"
Tomoyo looked at him with dark eyes, then with a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips shrugged and continued walking. Eriol traced her advance with his eyes, her form barely visible in the dark corridor. Realising that he was still standing on the same spot, her half-jogged to catch up to her.
"What is so terrible that you can't tell me?" He prodded once they were at equal pace.
"It's nothing," she said, eyes dancing in the dark.
"It will be just a secret between you and me."
"It's silly."
He snorted; "Wanting to know how fast one could get soaked in the freeing rain and in the process catch pneumonia is silly. There's no one here but you and me, no one will ever know; a gentleman's honour," he emphasized this with a slight wiggling of his eyebrows.
Covering her mouth with her hand lest she giggle girlishly, Tomoyo said, "I don't know. Should I tell you?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Guess."
"I hate guessing games," Eriol scrunched his face in mock disgust (at which Tomoyo did giggle). "Was it about home?" He asked teasingly.
"Hmmm...nope."
"Someone?"
"Definitely."
"Someone I know?" He prodded, his curiosity nearly piquing.
"Perhaps."
"Ha ha," he rolled his eyes in the dark, not that she would notice. "Just tell me. You know you can trust me."
"Hai, hai," Tomoyo said, turning towards him, "I was thinking about—"
The girl stopped suddenly, her body going rigid. The boy mimicked her stance, coming to a full halt beside her. Eriol looked worriedly at her, laying an icy hand on her shoulder. Sparing a glance at him, she signalled for him to stay still, her hand grasping the one on her shoulder. Seeing the conviction in her eyes and the tenseness in her body, Eriol strained his hearing and concentrated on whatever it was that troubled Tomoyo.
At first he detected no change in his surroundings. Even after letting the remainder of his magic enhance his sight and hearing, the temperature was still blistering cold and he could still see his breath coming out in puffs. As he was about to turn to Tomoyo, to reassure her that her imagination had gotten the best of her, he felt it. It was nothing of significance really, just a caress of warmth against his numb cheek, but he felt that it was important and concentrated harder. After a minute or two, he felt it again, that sensation of being touched with an invisible hand. Apparently, Tomoyo experienced the same sensation and exchanged glances with Eriol, her dark eyes seeming even darker.
As if suddenly gifted with telepathic powers, the two moved silently ahead, following the ghost-like caress. As they moved along, edginess making their knees weak and their stomachs churn in swirly patterns, the sensation intensified. What was previously a silk-like touch, now became an embrace of warmth. The air was considerably warmer, so much that Eriol no longer felt the need to wrap his arms around himself. He also noticed that there were fewer cobwebs in the corners and the tunnel itself was considerably lighter and seemed more decorated.
"Do you think we entered the living section of the house?" He asked, though he had his own opinion.
"Most likely, though I suppose we could be close to the boiler room," Tomoyo replied, shivering unconsciously; she still did not get over the incident with the taciturn grounds' keeper.
They continued on, more bounce in their step and their spirits much lighter. Before long, the corridor was alighted with soft orange glow, casting warm shadows across the pair. Eriol could hear quiet voices not far off and quickened his pace only too eager to get rid of the darkness and cold. The two entered a stretch of a long pathway, which was mainly decorated with soft earthy tones and which they also recognised as the left wing of the house. Slowing down his pace to a casual strut (so as not to appear flustered in any way), Eriol walked passed a darkened hallway.
It was a minute later when he noticed that Tomoyo was not walking behind him. Turning on his spot he saw the girl standing in front of the corridor he just passed. "What's wrong?" He asked, heading towards her.
"I just thought... thought I smelled something," she replied, pointing a slender finger into the darkness.
Eriol stopped beside her and looked towards the indicated direction. It looked like hundreds of other corridors, completed with cobwebs and odd scattering of paintings. A faint odour trickled over to his nose. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but he was positive what he recognised it, he simply needed to remember exactly what it was. It felt like a tickling sensation, when there is this itch but it's nearly impossible to figure out exactly where. Eriol hated this feeling, this uncertainty, and the inability to do something.
Fighting a desperate battle with his supposed incompetence (victory in this round went to him), Eriol said, "You are right, Tomoyo. Something is definitely there. The question is, 'what is it'?"
"Maybe it is something private? Or worse yet, what if it is nothing at all? Do we waste time on trying to find out?" She queried, her mind torn in between practicality and over active imagination.
"If we don't, we'll die of curiosity," he countered.
"Good point," that resolved it, and with a quick check that no rescuers were coming their way, Tomoyo and Eriol set out for the darkened hallway.
This particular corridor was nothing like the one they'd previously wandered, Eriol resolved a few minutes into their walk. This one was surprisingly warm and humid; the air permeated with the same smell Eriol could not identify. The darkness, too, was different. As opposed to the teeth-clattering-purple-fingeredness, this darkness was almost bone chillingly eerie... Eriol refrained his mind from getting too far ahead of him, keeping most of his concentration on the pathway (the remaining straying to the girl beside him).
After the agitating minutes spent on dreading the unknown, Eriol was rather stumped and decidedly disappointed. They stopped at an ordinary looking door, the only distinguishing thing in the entire stretch of corridor. For a second, Eriol was feeling very stupid — of course, this lasted only a mere second, and then he was back to his good old confident self. Spinning gracefully on his heel, Eriol was beginning to saunter back the way they came when a dainty hand on his forearm stopped his progress.
Half-turning, he was met with a pair of imploring amethyst eyes. Eriol looked in those eyes and saw the resilient determination in them; it almost rivalled his.
"I think we should still check it out," she said in a half whisper.
Unconsciously, Eriol lifted a hand to stroke the soft cheek, brushing off a stray hair. Taking her by the hand, he led her towards the door all the while muttering, "It will not hurt to take a peak. As long as we do not stray from the periphery, we shall come out unscathed."
Tomoyo simply looked at him in mild curiosity, faint amusement dancing in her eyes, she refrained from asking though.
Stopping once again in front of the ordinary looking mahogany door, Eriol reached for the knob, twisting it gingerly. Nothing, not even a budge. Sighing frustratedly, the boy looked at his companion, silently asking her the next step.
"Can't we do something?" She asked.
Eriol thought about this for a couple of seconds, mentally listing his skills. Nope, he knew nothing that would help him to get inside locked rooms. "Unless you know how to pick locks, then," shaking his head 'no', mouthing the word. It was at that instance that his attention was dragged forcefully to his magical abilities, however limited they were.
"...I could, though, try a heating spell.." He muttered under his breath. "It might not work, but what's the use of not trying at all?"
Telling the girl to step back a pace or two, Eriol tapped into the same power stream he touched earlier that week. He felt the semi-familiar magic flow through him, igniting his system and sending a mild tremor to his skin. He let the aura overfill him, then, when he felt the timing was right, the reincarnation of Clow concentrated the power on the dusty doorknob. He felt the tiny hairs on his nape stand on end when something akin to fire run through his veins and transferred to the knob.
When he opened his eyes, the rusty object was nothing more then a puddle of smouldering metal at his feet, an unpleasant smell coming off of the new formed substance. He glanced at Tomoyo who was looking at him with an expression of awe and admiration.
"I didn't know you could do that," she said, looking at the used-to-be knob.
"There's a lot you don't know about me," he answered quietly, turning to face the door. "Lets hurry up before anyone decide to send morticians after us."
Nodding, the girl came to his side. Carefully, almost afraid to make noise, Eriol pushed open the door. Moving inside the darkened room, his nostrils were assaulted with a foul stench, apparently the same one that originally caught their attention. Moving his hand to block the putrid smell, he turned to the girl who followed suit. Progressing further into the room, Eriol noticed how incredibly stuffy it was. The smell the atmosphere in the chamber pushed down on him until the boy felt himself choke.
Tomoyo stumbled slightly behind him, hissing as her foot caught something large and angular. She reached down to pick up the accursed object, intending to send it flying across the room and stopped when her hand touched something with a leathery texture. "We should get one of the lanterns from the main hall," she said, moving towards the door now. Eriol didn't say anything, just followed the girl with a considerably fast gait.
When they entered the room a second time, a simple lamp in hand, an atrocious site greeted them. Dark spots littered the floor, creating a grotesque pattern of sorts; Eriol was certain that the splats were not expensive paint. The small windows near to the top of the ceiling were covered with heavy material, preventing the grey light to seep through. The lamp in his hand, though, allowed him to catch a glimpse of the shadowed containers that lined the walls.
A sharp intake of breath stopped him. Whirling on his spot, edgy all of a sudden, he saw Tomoyo inching way from a spot on the floor. Looking questioningly at her, he lowered the lantern to where her finger was pointed. Eriol was not a person who got freaked out easily. In fact, he could not remember ever freaking out, in both his lifetimes, and that's saying a lot. He was, though, completely overcome with repulsion at the thing on the floor.
On the floor there lay a mutilated arm. Now, why would something like an ordinary looking, severed arm spook such an impenetrable person such as Eriol? One reason popes into mind, or one image, to be precise. The amputated arm lay on the floor, the soft glow from the lantern sending rays of light on to the shrivelled appendage. The skin was dry and yellowed, peeling off at the palm and finger area. The muscles and veins were outlined with sharp definition. The desiccated hand was stretched open, the digits slightly curved inward, in a sign of welcoming.
The whole scene nauseated Eriol, and he turned away from the appendage on the floor focusing instead on the girl, who was clearly distraught. Wrapping the girl in his arms, he moved them away from the grotesque scene and further into the chamber. The dark boxes caught his attention, and he shone the light upon them. Moving closer to them he determined with no small amount of repulsion, that they were cages. He could clearly see the rusty bars and the broken locks, spider webs extending from one corner to the next. At the bottom of the cages were what appeared to be bowls (for feeding, he guessed) and heavy manacles.
Eriol also caught sight of more human limbs scattered around the wooden boxes. He now knew what that smell was: dried, caked blood. And since he had a name for it, the odour was now even more revolting than he originally thought.
The dark haired girl beside him stirred anxiously. "Forget the rain and the map!" She suddenly exclaimed, walking to the door. "Let us go forth from this place at once!" (A/N: ..always wanted to say that ^^)
While hurrying to catch up to her, Eriol said, "Haste is the enemy of strategy. We need to think about this. We can pretend nothing happened. That way we will not offend our gracious host and stay out of unnecessary trouble until we leave."
"And that could be anytime next month!" She rounded on him, her anxiety climaxing. "I am not willing to sacrifice the well-being of our company for the sake of appearances."
With that, she whirled on her spot and proceeded to the door. Her progress was quickly halted by the shadowy figure in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat, Tomoyo backtracked until she was next to Eriol.
The boy detected definite hostility from the shadowed Lilliputian, so he shielded the girl with his body and faced his opponent. Taking a deep breath and squaring off his shoulders, he said to the man: "Who are you and what do you want with us?"
(tbc)
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(1) Trale Eccor — in our language it would mean "cuisine for dummies" ^^
(2) ish fer noit porackrate turfer — means "to boil water, put pan over fire"
Who do you think the "shadowed Lilliputian" is? Was it good? Bad? The usual crap?