A/N: I'm not *that* late with the posting, am I? Sorry, this was a very difficult chapter to write. Also, I had a huge watercolour painting to do and a Literacy test to write. Soooooo much work.
Disclaimer: Do I have to repeat it? I no own, you no sue.
______________________________*____*______________________________
Part IV: Tribulations: Verrat
Hate and bitterness are the only weapons wielded by the blade.
- Thomas Gregory
He sat upon his throne, a glass of crimson wine in his hand and cold eyes stretched along the vast expanse of time and space. There, miles away from his comfortably dim chamber, were the objects of his scrutiny and odium. He watched with dullness and contempt marring his pretty eyes as the scene unfolded itself before him, like pieces of a puzzle he mustered long ago yet still held a fascination with. He gazed as piece upon jagged piece fell into place, further adding to the picture and piquing his perverse curiosity.
He watched as the boy turned to face his henchman, protecting the girl with his body, like a shield of blood and flesh. There was something so endearing in watching the two teens, it brought a twinge of jealousy to his cold heart. He hated this feeling, hated what it done to him, how it enveloped his mind, turning all his thoughts into incoherent gibber. He was a man of logic; all he ever needed in life was his intellect and his sword. He had no time for pitiful emotions such as love; they were the kismet of human kind, bringers of destruction and death.
On the other hand, the fiery rage that laced through the man's body brought a shiver of perverse pleasure to him, exciting him all the way down to his newly polished boots. The sensations such thoughts awoke in him, the surge of undiluted power he felt when the prey succumbed to his will. The knowledge that he, and no other man who breathed the same air and lived under the same sun, was capable of complete — almost maddening — control. The horrified expression on his victims' faces that solidified his hold on power. That was ecstasy, he thought. That was what life was all about. To take from the weak and pitiful and turn it into something glorious.
The picture changed and the man now watched as a woman bent down to pick up her distraught child, wiping away the tears that fell from the infant's closed eyes. In another scene, a commoner walked along the path leading to a shed, some kind of primitive tool slung across his back. A weather-bitten street urchin running across a street, carrying gleaming red tomatoes in his bony arms was now shown. Disgusting, he thought.
He hated them, the whole crazy world. He hated the way every one of the pathetic people breathed and moved with ungraceful ugliness. He loathed their stench, the reek of the streets mingling with that of labour and of sweat, permeating his nostrils and making him vomit. He abhorred watching as they talked, uncultured and inadequate-like, the way spit dribbled down their chins and throats as they drunk their ale. He smirked in disgust, turning to his own sweet nectar of doom.
They were pathetic; everything they did resembled savage interactions. Barbarians. "Those who are weak have no aptitude for power, therefore, their life is meaningless," he was taught once upon a time. The same man told him that life was but a flicker of white against the black universe; that in order to achieve some sort of distinction, all one needed was to gain the variety of colour. He was determined to separate himself from these barbaric creatures, to stand out against the blackness.
The scene before him switched back to the two youngsters. The girl, he noted, grinning crookedly, was charming enough. He liked the way her eyes seemed to be radiating a ferocious intensity at that moment, the set of her delicate jaw. Through the time and distance, he could nevertheless feel the intensity of her determination and graceful poise. He smirked, taking another sip of the bittersweet liquid. She would be a nice addition to his collection; a perfect doll for the perfect playmate. The boy though, was a nuisance, an excellent example of a gallant charade. It would not do to leave the boy running all over the place; a cockroach needed to be squashed before an infestation began, the man thought, the corners of his lips upturning into a cruel smirk.
Smirking once again, the man looked at the red liquid in its glass containment, the tiny air bubbles surfacing as he placed the goblet to his lips. Swallowing, he let it burn all the way to his stomach, where it created a vortex of swirly patterns. From the corner of his eye, he caught a measly bug crawling along the marble tiles. Grinning maliciously, he upturned the glass goblet, the fluid trickling painfully slow to the ground, drenching the critter in a blood-coloured tsunami.
_____________________________*____*________________________________
Tomoyo stood facing their opponent, Eriol standing guard in front of her, shielding her in case of physical rebuke. Without even realising it, she sought out his hand, grasping it in her own. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, the sound vibrating annoyingly into her ears. She, and no doubt Eriol as well, felt the unyielding hostility coming from the little man enveloped in the shadows. Limitless amount of equally horrible scenarios ran through her head, and not one of them included the possibility that this was just some sick joke.
Eriol stole a glance at her, which she caught and deciphered its meaning. Within his blue orbs, she read his warning and his hastily fashioned plan. He silently told her to run at any sight of danger, to forget him and save herself. She slowly nodded her affirmation, not really meaning it at all. The epitome of chivalry in the face of an unseen foe. Despite her slender physique, she was not one to give up without a fight. Tomoyo would back him up with everything she had; what was the purpose of a camaraderie without the knowledge of the other supporting you all the way through?
Poised for a fight, Eriol demanded the name of their adversary. The man remained silent, blocking the little light that flooded through the opened doorway. Slowly, with calculated and even steps, he walked into the room and into the range of the lamp light. Tomoyo stifled a sigh of relief upon seeing Goreneil, letting go of Eriol's hand while doing so. She let the relief wash over her, dulling her into a calm state, which did justice to her equilibrium.
She still sensed apprehensiveness coming from Eriol and knew that Goreneil felt it, too. Sparing a warning glance at Eriol, in doing so notifying to him to act casual, Tomoyo turned to their host and said: "We were looking for you — I was wondering if you had a map? We got lost and somehow ended up in this...." She paused, choosing her words carefully, "...storage room."
Goreneil's face visibly brightened and that certain radiance that belonged only to him was back. Moving closer to her, he patted her hand and whispered, "'ood gal. E'll bee yers oone day." The girl's face flushed at this sentiment, though for the life of her she could not determine why. With that, the man turned back to the doorway, gesturing for them to follow. Tomoyo took another look around the room, a cold shiver running down her spine, before she dragged a reluctant Eriol to the hall.
Along the way, Goreneil chatted amiably, mentioning the damage to his crops and the overflowing riverbanks. Tomoyo thought it was rather odd, surely the man saw the horrid scene in that chamber. Why was he acting so calm about it? A part of her insisted that he simply mistook the cages for containers of some kind. She genuinely liked the Lilliputian, his vivacious attitude towards life brought a certain pizzazz to his character, and she couldn't help but feel addicted to it. In many ways it reminded her of Sakura and herself. One drew cheerfulness from the other, extinguishing the painful ache while doing so.
She noted with a small trace of concern that Eriol was hanging back, lost in his own thoughts. Tomoyo wondered what was bothering the Untouchable Eriol, but the stoic mask on his face revealed nothing of great value. She joined into Goreneil's lively chatter, keeping her eyes on the boy just in case. She was still adamant about leaving the place, but she had to admit, Eriol was right about having to need a plan. To be on the safe side, she feigned calmness in front of their host.
"Ah've seen to yer friendes. Nakuru's been feedin' Spin'l some o' mi favorite biscuites." The little man said jokingly, his dark eyes sparkling in the dimness.
"What is the poor creature doing right now?" Tomoyo asked, fighting to keep her voice light.
"'E's upe in te lampe, playin' with the lightes," said he, giving off a hearty guffaw.
Tomoyo laughed half-heartedly and resumed talking about frivolous things with the little man. As they progressed through the corridors, she heard the distant roar of thunder and frowned. It appeared that the storm was still raging, which meant that the troupe would not leave for at least twenty-four hours. She couldn't help but feel apprehension sink its clutches further under her skin. It was a lingering sensation that floated topmost in her mind, sending small tremors through her body. It annoyed her somewhat, she did not like feeling vulnerable, nor did she like the fear tickling her senses.
She noted with disapproval that Eriol was still lagging behind her, bumping into walls and occasionally herself. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him closer to her, awaking him from his reverie while doing so. What are you doing? His eyes seemed to ask her. Smiling lightly, feeling the apprehension abate to some degree, she shrugged, unconsciously providing him with the answer he was looking for. 'I was worried,' she meant. All this happened within the matter of seconds and their escort was none the wiser.
Goreneil broke out in a jovial song, that strange language making a début. Tomoyo laughed, her equilibrium restored to normal. Surely whatever it was that they saw was nothing more than a trick of the mind and excitement of the moment. Their imaginations playing games with their already fragile minds. There was nothing to worry about but the journey ahead. It was at that moment that a crashing sound wafted to their ears.
Eriol instantly perked up, "What was that?"
Goreneil shook his head, stifling giggles, "Problie yer friendes. Spin'l muste've upturnede the tablie in 'is hurry tah get the sweetes."
Tomoyo, however doubtful, nodded her head in agreement, secretively nudging Eriol with her elbow. "Yes, you are right," the boy responded with a light shrug and a grin.
Continuing on their way, Goreneil whistling merrily, Tomoyo settled her mind on little things to distract herself. She marvelled — or at least as one could possibly come to in her position — at the little trinkets hanging on the walls, serving as the main decor. A dust covered painting there, a mouldy crochét article here. Somewhere along the way she noticed that they were taking an extremely long time to get to their destination, which would have taken them ten minutes at most to reach. She chose to refrain from commenting, seeing it as nothing of importance.
After a time, Goreneil deposited in front of an oak door, excusing himself while looking for the keys in his trouser pockets. Leaning casually on the doorframe, Eriol drawled languidly, "That was quite a scare back there, wasn't it?"
"Oh, yes! It was terribly frightening!" Tomoyo said, acting out the perfect damsel in distress, at which Eriol's grin broadened. "I'm so glad you were there to protect me, oh Glorious and Noble One!"
"Glad to be of service, mi lady," he replied in a flamboyant British accent, curtseying grandly. Tomoyo giggled and batted her eyelashes in the same ostentatious fashion.
"A! 'Ere we goo! Teh keys!" Exclaimed Goreneil, interrupting their moment and shuffling over to the door.
Once the door was opened, the two teens showed themselves in, pausing only when unfamiliar darkness greeted them. They heard the door close behind them with an uneasy heaviness. They were completely enveloped in darkness, and when Goreneil lit a lamp — Eriol's going out during their walk— Tomoyo gasped. More cages greeted them, the scattered appendages standing out in the soft light. She turned with horror-stricken expression — much to her displeasure— to the Lilliputian, whose little face was contorted into a sadistic mask.
"Welcome to your new home," he said, no trace of the thick accent, his dark eyes twinkling cruelly underneath his eyebrows.
"Why?" the word left Tomoyo's lips before she could even comprehend thinking of it.
The man grinned, the facial lines that she found so endearing twisting wickedly around the eyes and mouth. "What did you expect, Little One? That I would simply let you pass through my territory, stay in my home for nothing?"
Feeling a little stung though hiding it behind a well-practiced frown, Tomoyo asked quietly: "But why this?" At which she received no answer.
"We will not let you cage us like animals," Eriol spoke up for the first time, his voice holding an intimidating air.
Goreneil smirked, his teeth showing in a jagged line, and remained silent. He moved further into the room, grinning all the while. Slowly, the leering face was becoming longer, the nose stretching into a crocked hook, the bottom lip sagging all the way to the wrinkly chin. Tomoyo watched in horror-generated fascination as the forehead expanded like a deformed balloon, the curly hairs falling off one by one, exposing the brownish skin. The bright eyes, at which addictive brilliance she once marvelled, turned large and muddy yellow, the pupils disappearing to tiny dots. The limbs, previously appearing charming in their shortness, grew into grotesquely distorted proportions, bony and long. The clothes ripped off as the back pushed into them, the spleen standing out in a bumpy ridge. (A/N: this is rather difficult to describe, imagine something like Gollum from LOTR)
"What are you?" Breathed out Tomoyo, scarcely believing that she still had the gift of voice.
The newly formed creature grinned with its large mouth, the bottom lip toughing its sharp teeth. "I am a Doppelganger, a Shapeshifter," it informed them, its voice coming out in a harsh, guttural sound (1).
"What do you want with us?" Eriol said vehemently, though inside he was near quivering.
The creature closed its large eyes, hiding his frightful orbs from sight. Licking its dried lips, the Doppelganger shifted from foot to foot, the backs of the hands brushing over the floor. "Take a wild guessss?" It hissed out once it opened its eyes.
"Surely you are not implying that...that..."Tomoyo began, breaking off when the possibilities seemed too horrible to think about.
"That iss exactly what I'm implying, girlie,"
"We did nothing wrong! Whatever you are, you have no right to contain us!" She exclaimed, trying to beat sense into the creature.
Hissing lowly, the creature lunged at the girl, grabbing her arm with an overlarge callous hand. "I have the right to do whatever I pleassse!" It said into Tomoyo's face, the foul breath tickling her cheek. "You will ssstay here until I tell you otherwissse."
"Let her go!" Eriol bellowed, coming to the girl's defence. He grabbed the creature's wrinkly hand, forcefully prying it off Tomoyo's arm. The Doppelganger sucked in a sharp breath; it's pupils expanding into dark circles. In a move too fast for Tomoyo to fully comprehend, the creature brought his other hand and grazed it over Eriol's torso, pushing the boy to the floor in the confusion. Tomoyo just stood petrified on her spot, watching as the creature huffed infuriatingly and left the room, locking the door and taking the lamp.
What'd just happen? She asked herself, scarcely deciphering the difference between the real world and that of the dream. In the fraction of a couple of minutes, she lost a friend, who was not a friend after all, she got herself captured and decided the course of their destinies. All without her being aware of it. Feeling the shock wear off to a dull nagging at the back of her mind, she returned back to the present situation. She was surrounded by darkness, she did not know when the creature would be back and she did not know were Eriol disappeared to.
"Some help here," breathed out Eriol from the floor.
Getting on her knees, Tomoyo crawled in Eriol's direction, guided by his voice. Sitting beside the boy, who to her appeared to be sprawled on the floor, she blindly sought out his hand. Her fingers touched something wet and she heard the boy stifle a gasp.
"What's wrong?" She asked worriedly, feeling lost in the oppressing darkness.
"It's nothing," he replied calmly, but she could swear that there was a grimace on his face.
"No, it is definitely something," she retorted. "I heard you gasp, which means that something is not right."
"It's just a scratch."
"Just a scratch! Men have died because of 'just scratches'," She searched for the wet spot again, only to discover it blocked by his hand. Sighing frustratedly, she said, "Can't you do something about the dark, oh Great Eriol-kun?"
"I'll try," Eriol replied, chuckling lightly. With that, he unleashed the magic and an instance later a sphere of light appeared. She marvelled at the shining globe; magic always amazed her, even though she spent half her lifetime surrounded by it.
"Now, what about that scratch of yours?" Shifting her attention to his abdomen, only to discover it covered by his hands. This time, concern really did make its way into her system, settling at the bottom of her stomach with irritating intensity. "Please let me see, I'm worried about you, you know."
Before Eriol was able to get even a single syllable out of his mouth, the hands on his chest were seized by Tomoyo and forcefully removed from the "scratch". The girl looked at the gash, her breath caught in her throat and heart dropping to the cold floor. "It's not that bad," Eriol said. Even though his voice sounded strong and reassuring, Tomoyo couldn't help but feel a stamp titled "ouch!" imprint itself on the situation.
Feeling a tingling sensation just behind her eyelids, Tomoyo reached for his collar, undoing the first two buttons. Clow Reincarnate looked at her from beneath dark bangs, the eyes inquiring on her actions but muscles too weak or unwilling to function in the strangeness of the situation. "I need to see the wound properly and somehow clean it," she said, keeping her eyes on the task in front of her.
The little "scratch" turned out to be one whopper of a wound; three deep cuts marring the ivory-like skin of his chest, each approximately six inches in length and two in depth. The crimson blood tainted the white shirt beside him, making her eyes hurt. She swore she could see small traces of bone peeking out from the bloodied layers of muscle, which looked almost purple in the dim light. And by the looks of it, the gash was bleeding openly.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she touched the area around the cut with a tentative finger, which executed a pain filled hiss from Eriol. "Sorry," she murmured, her eyes tracing the expanse of his bloodied chest. "I need to disinfect it before it leaves you incapacitated," she said, the tactical part of her taking control; she was, after all, trained in the field of emergency procedures.
Eriol nodded weakly and simply watched as she crawled closer to the cages in order to find some sort of container. She found a bowl of water in a corner and returned with the precious cargo to the boy's side. Taking off the outer layer of her skirt (at which Eriol blushed slightly) and used it as pillow for his head. Tomoyo used Eriol's shirt, soiled and useless as it was, to wipe off the access blood. She wetted the end of the now ruined shirt in the bowl and looked into his face.
"This will hurt a little, but it has to be done." She said, not a small amount of worry on her face.
"I've never been one who foolishly fears pain." He replied, his voice hoarse from clenching his jaw.
Gently, afraid of pressing too hard and in the result hurting Eriol, Tomoyo swiped around the edges of the gashes. She noted the small creasing of the boy's brows and the tightening of his lips, and with a pity-filled expression continued to daub the cloth onto the wound. When she was done with the cleaning process, she tore a section of her skirt (seeing as to how Eriol's shirt were no longer usable) to use for bandaging. Manoeuvring his body as to cause him as less discomfort as possible, she wrapped the strip of cloth over his abdomen.
"Thank you nurse Daidouji-san, I feel brand spanking new," Eriol joked to lighten the atmosphere, even though humour completely slipped from Tomoyo's mind when she saw his injury.
She noticed that the boy was shivering and shifted closer to him, placing his head on her shoulder. Sweeping the faint hairs off his forehead, she asked what he thought about their present situation.
"I should have foreseen it," he replied, traces of anger making their way into his voice. "I am the one with the magical powers; it's my entire fault that we're in this sorry mess. If only I'd...."
"Eriol," she shushed him with a mere word, "if we keep on relying on the 'if's and the 'what if's, don't you think it'd be pretty boring? We live right now, for this moment and instant; what could have been is not important, what is, though, is that we regard the future with determination and valour."
The boy murmured something incoherent, and Tomoyo decided to change the topic, afraid of him falling asleep. "Do you think the others are all right?"
"I hope so; it is better that some of us making back to our world rather than none at all."
She wondered when the creature would be back, already dreading the encounter. She knew that Eriol's consciousness was slipping away from him like the sand in an hourglass. She feared the time when he did fall prey to the world of the comatose, it meant that she would have to face the creature alone and that the worry clutching at her stomach muscles would intensify. She prayed for strength to keep up her vigilance, prayed for Eriol and the others. She needed a miracle in the time of gloom, and it did not get any more dismal than at that moment.
For a long while, or at least that's what it seemed to her, she spent watching the sparkling light of the magic globe, unwittingly counting Eriol's breathing patterns. Sometime after, she reckoned it was nightfall in the outside world, the boy's muscles relaxed and the head dropped from her shoulder, landing the cradle of her arms. In the next couple of hours, Eriol slipped into feverish delirium, occasionally murmuring unintelligible words. Tomoyo watched with incessant worry tugging at her heart as sweat trickled down his face, the dark hairs matting to the forehead. Once in while, he stirred, which caused a shiver of hope to run down her spine, only to be extinguished when Eriol broke out in spasmodic tremors.
She sat with his limp form embraced protectively in her arms, rocking him gently and watching the light. The faint glow seemed to be getting dimmer and dimmer as time wore on, but she no longer cared; she would rather welcome the darkness. When everything was surrounded by nothing but black (and at one point the glowing orb did faint into nothing), no one would be able to see her cry, only the soft intakes of breath indicating a change in her. She couldn't help but blame herself. It was because of her that Eriol was injured in the first place; if only she kept her stupid mouth shut, he wouldn't be limp in her arms and dying. Why him? The question drifted into her mind unwittingly. He, if no one else, deserved to live; such a beautiful person had a whole beautiful life ahead of him. And so, for the first time since she realised that Sakura was forever lost to her, she cried, not bothering to wipe off the hot tears.
She had lost all sense of time and place, all there was at that moment was a slowly cooling body in her arms, the blood staining her clothes and the numb sensation in her chest. She could not determine whether hours passed by or days, just that Eriol was dying and she was helpless to do to a thing about it. She hummed softly, unknowingly running her fingers through his hair. Stifling a forlorn sigh, she pressed her lips to his temple, murmuring silly promises, not caring whether he heard or not.
The door was suddenly flung open, the wood splintering in some places. In came the creature in an odd sort of crawl, behind the being stood shadowed figures. Tomoyo shielded her eyes from the bright light entering the room, drawing Eriol's body closer to her, protecting him just as he protected her. She stifled curses at the intruders and shuddered when their gaze landed on her. The Doppelganger, that repulsive creature, turned to the dark figures, saying something in that strange language. Both nodded, moving into the room, ropes slung across their backs.
Tomoyo saw the blank stares on their faces and clutched Eriol tighter. "No," she said, her voice hoarse from misuse. She knew that they wanted to take Eriol away from her, where to, she was too exhausted to think about. The creatures still advanced, "Please, no," she pleaded, stronger this time. "Anything, just not him! Please!" She cried, scuttling all the way into the back of the room.
The creatures' expressions remained vacant, only one purpose on their minds. She drove her nails into Eriol's skin, trying to savour his presence for as long as possible, knowing perfectly well that there was no escape from the inevitable. Whimpering, she just let them come at her, guarding Eriol until the last moment.
When they were done, the boy's body draped over one creature's shoulder, Tomoyo was nothing but a rumpled heap of soiled clothing, staring blankly at their retreating backs. He was gone, forever most likely. She lost. The last thing she saw before the door closed to leave her in the darkness, was the Doppelganger's grinning face, the teeth almost shining with the faint light.
Thus ends the fourth part of this story, Tribulations. This moment also
preludes the beginning of the next part, Segregation.
___________________________*____*_____________________________
(1) Actual Doppelgangers are different from my description, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend that I did absolutely nothing wrong.
Mwahahahahahaha! Yes, I am evil. Eval I tell you!! *hides behind her pillow* please don't kill me...
On a different note, *sigh* I suck at writing, seriously, I do. I use too much flowery language without enough thought provoking content. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead....go ahead, stop reading, you know it's boring... Any suggestions on improvement? I really need help...Did I make Eriol look like a sissy?
Next episode: we get to see what happened to poor Eriol-kun. Will he live, or be taken by the cold clutches of death? And who's that I see making a special appearance?