A/N:.....I've discovered Gackt..... He is God.... On a different note... sorry I've been so late with the update, but I've been going through some major changes. First, I'm thinking about changing the plot of the story a bit (seeing as to how I have an affinity for sad stories). Also, I'm trying to change my writing style. I might post other multi-chapter stories later in the week. And, some paintings are completely eating up my time (can anyone out there draw?)
Disclaimer: Refer to other chapters for official legal jargon. Norganan (the language used from thence on) is property of Ruesar. Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! I love you for it!
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Part V: Segregation: Kitto OK
Eriol felt as if he was floating in a sea of darkness, where everything that he saw and everything that he felt was nothingness. It was an odd disembodied sensation, one of spiritual awareness yet without the sense of being or time. Eriol tried to move his weary limbs, to reach out and rip off the dark shroud concealing him, but his muscles refused to obey his commands. He felt impotent, a useless shell drifting and drifting. 'Where?!' he heard his mind scream, the sound ringing through the thick darkness. 'Where am I? What's happening?!' he called out once again, flinching slightly as only taunting nothingness met him. It was pressing, pulsing all around him, a threatening force he could neither see or sense but somehow managed to do irreparable damage to his system.
He remembered feeling acute pain race through his body, though he could not remember why. He tried to concentrate on coherent thought, on those precious fragments of his scattered memory, but the darkness was heavy and it was weighing down on him. An overwhelming choking sensation imbued his system, sending his mind reeling with the immensity of it. He gasped, the air escaping his lungs in forced puffs. Realizing that struggling would further harm his situation, he relaxed and let himself float.
At one point, Eriol felt warm lips press to his throbbing temple; a simple gesture of care and affection. It sent a warm flush through his body. He wasn't sure, though, if those lips were real or just a fragment of his fever enticed delirium. Later on, he heard distant voices reaching his ears in odd distorted sounds. He strained his ears to them, longing with all his might to understand the jumbled words, with no amount of success. The voices stopped and Eriol felt cold hands gripping him, dragging his body; to where, he did not know.
After a time, Eriol felt the ground give way, leaving him suspended mid-air. It was with a jolt of panic that he realised he was being moved. Invigorated with that startling sensation, he forced his eyes open. Eriol saw noting at first, and he was beginning to fear that he had somehow lost his sight, when the darkness cleared and he saw blurry shapes move. Had he paid more attention or concentrated harder, he would have seen the three figures hovering over him. Relieved that he was at least able to see, however vaguely, Eriol let the darkness take him once more.
The next time Eriol felt some semblance of consciousness, he was no longer moving — or rather, floating— but was lying on his belly. He tried to lift up his head, but as soon as he initiated the action, a sharp ache raced through his body. Stifling a hiss, the boy relaxed his muscles. Cold and warmth moved in waves through his body, pausing at his toes and fingertips before beginning another pyretic cycle. He wondered when his shirt disappeared and where his glasses were. Carefully, all too aware of the aches all tugging at his limbs, Eriol shifted his position.
The shroud of darkness no longer surrounded him, and the soreness throughout his person proved that he was, indeed, still alive. Various aches sprang throughout his body and his head felt oddly light, but at least he could still feel at all. He heard voices moving to his direction, and he rejoiced that he could actually discern individual voices.
"Kihae daae wha-aeah tahocfo hyu os?" (1) A raspy voice asked.
The second replied with a minute's hesitation. "Eh sayugigiehri, O riyumfoaec." (2)
"Hyu saeriyu os mahtayu tahaeahgih." (3)
A third voice soon joined the other two."Kihwha ehriyu wha-aeah takiae hehripaoyus koaeotayuriocgi ehriaeahcda? Giyuta ehkiehwha sayufiraeriyu O tahriaeki wha-aeah sa-aetah taae tahyu paotas!" (4) This one sounded more authoritative and gruff; it sent a chill crawling down Eriol's back. He instinctively lifted his head, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain the action brought, and took a look. He couldn't see much from his current position, being on the floor and in the dark, but from what he was able to glimpse, he was located in a cell of sorts.
Eriol prayed that the speakers did not catch his subtle action, lest something bad would happen, he feared. The three figures soon left, leaving Eriol alone with his aches and pains again. He wondered what they discussed. Him, surely; he would never know.
Eriol, with his infinite knowledge and experience, could never remember being in such a predicament. On one side, he doubted he could move a muscle, on the other side (and the one he liked less of the two) he was alone. Tomoyo..? He remembered little of their last meeting, but surely it was unpleasant. He could recall fragments of conversation, but it seemed a jumbled and incomprehensible blur to him. A thread of fear laced through him, making his stomach swirl with some unpleasant sensation. What if she was captured? Incapacitated and lonely, like him?... Or worse, what if she was dead? The possibility of her fragile body mutilated beyond recognition, laying somewhere amongst the dark corridors was not pleasant and he stored that image far away, for later, less dangerous times to dwell on.
His guardians...? Eriol had known the two since they were first conceived in his imagination. Though yes, they did tend to bicker a lot, they also cared for one another. He had little to no doubt that the two, however unfortunate, were alive and well. Spinel, he knew, would remain calm and rationalized, whereas Nakuru would panic himself to near insanity. Together, they would work something out, if they didn't kill each other before then. He just hoped that they found his Tomoyo and nurtured her to safety, while there was still time.
Right now, though, his own health was the more important part of the predicament. Eriol was aware that he was probably injured at one point, though he was not able to identify the source of the pain. He also suspected that he had a fever and an infection, not a pleasant notion in total. He could do nothing about it, though. The aches and pains, although burdensome, would heal in time, hopefully. Eriol, surprisingly exhausted beyond belief, let his mind rest for the meanwhile.
"Hyuwha."
Eriol thought he heard something, but it was too soft and he dismissed it as part of fever induced hallucinations. Sleep refused to claim him, so the boy settled on listening to the wind hitting the rafters. It had a soothing effect on him, and soon he felt the tension drain from his body.
"Hyuwha, wha-aeah.." (5)
Startled, Eriol nearly jumped from his position, which sent pain shooting down his spine and into the pit of his stomach. In the momentary confusion, the boy began to grope for something — anything that would provide protection from the unseen foe. Sadly, he found only dirt and hey, both of which were as useful as ear wax. Having no other weapon, Eriol steeled his nerves and called out: "Who's there? Answer before I cause you trouble." In truth, he doubted he could harm even a fly in his weakened state, but what the enemy did not see, would work to his advantage.
"...Oh, wha-aeah da-aec'ta spayuehfo nwha koehcgiahehgiyu...." (6) the disembodied voice replied, sounding a bit confused. As soon as the words were said, a head popped out from somewhere in the darkness. Eriol, bewildered in the first place, could barely contain the knot in his throat from escaping (he just noticed it was there in the first place). Eriol remained silent though, curiously surveying the stranger. From the little light available to him, the boy could distinguish a pale face with seemingly wild eyes and even wilder hair. Still wary of the intruder, Eriol just watched as the other boy watched him in return.
Seemingly unnerved by the awkward silence, the blue eyed boy came — or crawled — closer. "...What's your name?" he asked and Eriol gaped. Here was Eriol, nearly paralysed from shock and fever stricken, on top of it all, he was probably held captive somewhere and facing a lifetime of hard labour as a slave, and this stranger was asking his name? Was the boy completely out of his mind? Eriol did not know, but prudence dictated he exercise caution.
"Eriol. My name is Eriol," he replied through the lump in his throat.
"Eriol, huh? Well my name's Taekie, but you can call me Tae. It's nice to meet someone else. I've been stuck here for a while now and haven't seen a soul 'cept the guards and the Pahcaoshyuris (7). The last guy that was thrown in here — that was about a month or two ago — was tortured to death, or so I've heard from some of the guards. Hope you'll last. It's not as bad here as you first think, really. At first...."
During the entire time this "Tae" spoke, Eriol just gazed on dazedly. It was clear that the boy was conversation starved (amongst other things) but Eriol felt an instant liking to him. Tae seemed to radiate a certain careless exuberance, an addictive vivaciousness that reminded him of Nakuru. However, Tae appeared a bit too unconcerned about their enslavement, and it seemed to Eriol like another scam, similar to the deceitful Doppelganger (curse his name!). He was determined no to fall into the same trap again; God knew he have already lost too much. The ex-sorcerer tried to get in a few words edgewise, to ask the questions that were now beginning to crowd his mind, but he found the effort to open and close his mouth too straining. So in the meanwhile he let Tae talk his heart's content, letting the bubbly voice lull him to a dull state of wakefulness.
"...Really surprised when they brought you in, I was," continued Taekie. "I was just getting ready for a rest, been working non-stop since the weaning of the moons, you know. Then I hear the guards fussing over something. So I think to myself, 'What's this racket all about? Been doing some more scavengering, eh?' I decided to take a look, and what do you know! I see a guy being dragged in! It's always trouble when the new ones come in, so I decided to lay low. I was just mindin' my own business, spying on the guards and such, and bam! Next thing I know, my cell's being opened and the new guy's my new neighbour!"
At this point Tae paused the flow of words from his mouth and surveyed said "neighbour" with a sceptical brow arched delicately. "You don't look so good. They beat you pretty bad, huh? No big surprise there... I was beginning to wonder why you were just laying there, barely breathing and all..." Taekie looked at Eriol again and edged a bit closer to the boy on the floor, poking him with a prodding finger. "Do you want some help or something?"
Eriol on his side of the conversation (or lack thereof) could barely comprehend the words said to him. Everything seemed a hazy blur, with Tae's face a featureless shape hovering in the dark. He suddenly felt cold to gripping at his sides, sending waves of dull aches through his body. He tried to fight it, tried to remember bits of conversation and the cause of his predicament, but the cold's grip was stronger and he found himself forgetting near to everything. Unable to fend off the coldness, he let it numb his senses, sending his mind on a trip to unconscious abyss. He felt his eyelids droop and his head lolled to the side. At the back of his mind, Eriol jokingly thought that he must've looked like a rag doll, but the sense of humour abandoned him, and he just let himself be. The last thing he felt before consciousness escaped from him, was a burning throb in his wound, spreading pain through the rest of him.
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From the moment he first layed his eyes on the boy, Taekie knew he needed help. The way his shoulders sagged and the pale, lifeless look on the lad screamed out to him. Tae remembered with perfect clarity what it was like the first time he came to the Colosseum. When he looked in the boy's, Eriol's, eyes that first time, he saw the fear — fear he saw often, it made him sick nowadays — and the unspeakable grief of loss. He was that way, too, before he realized that time would not wait for him unless he made the effort to catch it. Tae also sensed the magic radiating off of Eriol. It was weak and damaged by something he could not define, but that distinct aura was definitely there. Given time, effort and hard training, Tae was sure he could nurse the boy's dwindling powers back to normal. That was why he decided to help Eriol no matter the cost.
Currently, Tae was looking at Eriol's slumped form, flinching slightly from the grotesque sight of the boy's abdomen. He was surprised a bit when the boy's body was dumped in the corner of his cell. He was downright shocked when he saw the nasty gash on Eriol's stomach. It resembled something from the pit of nightmares, rotting and mutilated beyond recognition. The skin around it was turning purplish-brown, bits of flesh dipping into the drying blood. Greenish-yellow puss was beginning to form in the deeper parts of the gash. The red life-fluid itself was dark maroon and emitted a distinct coppery scent. From the looks of it, the wound was infected and was causing a fever. A shiver ran down Tae's spine as the sight. What could have caused such an injury? He have never seen anything like it. He was also afraid of Eriol's reaction, which is why he kept his mouth shut about it.
Cringing, Taekie took another look at the wound and decided to do something. When he noticed that Eriol slipped out of consciousness, he took out a knife he secretly hid in the sole of his shoe and knelt beside the boy. Carefully removing the sodden bandages (or what remained of them) — what were they made of? — he exposed the rest of the gash to the wane light. Steeling his stomach against the onslaught of nausea, he used the little knife to pick away at the dried blood. That done, he proceeded to cleanse the wound with a little water (which was dirty to begin with) and a rag. It was not an easy task, he thought he would pass out on numerous occasions from the smell alone. After he was done with the cleaning process, Tae took out a small leather pouch from the inside of his tunic. Untying the fasteners, he emptied the contents onto his palm: a few shrivelled herbs and three shiny, round stones. The stones he put back in the punch, the leaves he crushed and chewed up. Taking the mixture out of his mouth, he spread it on his fingers and then put into the wound, at which point Eriol sucked in a sharp breath. To finish off, Tae re-wrapped the bandages and propped Eriol's head against a pile of straws. (A/N: I'm sorry I had to feature this, it hurt me more than it hurt you ;_______;)
Exhausted with the strain, Tae sat against a soot-covered wall, surveying his patient and from then on charge. He knew that Eriol was not an ordinary young man, haplessly ending up in the worst place one can possibly end up in, but that question would be answered with patience. Right now they needed to get out of this dreadful place and find safety, where every turn did not harbour enemies. The war was coming closer and closer, he could feel it like a dark stain on white clothing. He feared that he would somehow get involved in the bloodshed. Tae watched mindlessly as Eriol twitched slightly, fighting his own battles.
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When Eriol woke up, he felt pain shooting up and down his spine, but aside from that and a minor headache, he felt much better. He carefully propped himself on an elbow. The action initiated another wave of pain and he nearly growled in frustration. Eriol did no know how long he had been asleep, but the aches felt as if they had plagued him for a while. He was tired of feeling useless, he need to find out where he was and how to escape, to find his friends (if they were still alive).
"You better be careful, you have a wound on your stomach," A voice suddenly said from off to his left.
Eriol turned his head to the speaker. It was the same boy he talked to earlier. 'So that wasn't a dream,' he thought. His vision was clearer this time and there seemed to be more light, so he was able to properly survey the other boy. Tae appeared to be no older than himself (A/N: if anyone doesn't remember, he's 17) with an elfin face, bright cerulean eyes and messy chestnut hair trapped in a ponytail. Eriol wondered how someone as innocent looking as Tae could end up in such an awful place.
Heeding the boy's words, Eriol looked to his stomach, and sure enough, there was bandage there. He carefully touched a brown spot on the cloth and bit his tongue. Had he been a weaker man and had his throat not been as dry as a desert, he would have screamed.
"Hey, hey, hey! I told you to be careful!" exclaimed Tae as he scooted closer to Eriol's side. "This thing is pretty deep. I put some ointment in it to lessen the sting and help it heal, but it should still be sore. Where did you get it anyway?"
Eriol though about that for a moment. He remembered when the Doppelganger attacked him, causing the injury. He did not want Tae to know, however, for it might reveal some unnecessary information. "I can't remember. It might have been on a branch," he replied through the dryness in his throat.
"Oh. Well, it doesn't matter how you got it, the point is: it's nasty and it's infected," stated Tae. Then he took out a flask from somewhere on his person and brought it to Eriol's lips.
Eriol greedily took the offered drink, allowing the fluid to flow freely into his willing mouth. As soon as he did that, he spat it back out. "What is this? It tastes like mud!"
Taekie shrugged nonchalantly and said: "It's ale. There is not enough fresh water going around this place, you have to make do with what you have. Besides, it should warm you up nicely. Drink, I need you in a working condition. Do you have any idea how you got here?"
Tae was right, the ale, although bitter, left a fiery trail down his oesophagus, warming up his entire body. Eriol shook his head. "No, I don't remember anything, besides my name." he replied. He purposely withheld the information about Tomoyo and his guardians, afraid to somehow cause them harm. He decided to change the subject. "What are you doing here?"
"Me?" asked Tae a bit flustered. "No one's ever asked about just me before... Well, my story starts a long time ago, I'm sure you don't want to hear it."
"I have all the time in the world, or at least until I die from this," Eriol said jokingly, gesturing toward his bandaged abdomen.
"Hey, hey! It's no time for jokes, ya hear?"He chuckled slightly, at what Eriol did not know. "Besides, there will be another time and place for me to tell you the history of me."
Eriol wondered why Tae avoided the question. He hoped that the boy's past would tell him something of what he was truly made of. It seemed to him that the other boy was afraid. Perhaps he feared that his past would come to haunt him, Eriol himself had to deal with that problem at one point or another. Being Clow Reed had it's drawbacks. All the infinite knowledge contained in the body of a mere boy, for example. At times Eriol felt that knowledge pressing on him, threatening to overwhelm him. Oh, how he longed to be like any other teenager. Curious though he was, he allowed Tae that bit of privacy.
"Hey! What's all the racket down there!?" A voice boomed, disrupting Eriol's train of thought.
"Oh, no! That's the guards!" Exclaimed Tae, scrambling to gather the leather flask and anything else of value. "If you care about the bones in your body, stay low. They're a nasty sort."
Eriol, though thoroughly confused, obliged, not that he could do anything else. Laying in his corner, he watched as the guards descended the stairs. They were menacing creatures, otherworldly, he would call them had their eyes not been human. Heavy built they were, with long bears down their front and small, hungry eyes. Clothed in heavy furs, they strode with an awkward confidence, occasionally juggling the manacles on their belts. Eriol could not help but suppress a shudder; they were not a pleasant sort, he would remember to stay out of their way. The two stopped in front of their cell, much to Tae's horror. The guards exchanged glances, muttering something in that strange language.
"Well, then," began the headfirst of the two, his voice a guttural hiss. "What have ye been up to? Ye wouldn't be starting any trouble so soon, would ye? Will ye be needing to be taught how to behave?" The big man said this with a gleam in his buggy eyes and a toothless grin; Eriol suppressed yet another shudder.
"Of course not!" Intervened Tae, scooting closer to Eriol's side. "He's just sick — No! Nothing serious, fever — very minor fever. In fact, he should be in perfect working condition by tomorrow morning. You're very busy, I'll bet, why don't you two nice gents get on our way? I'll stay with him and make sure he's in top shape! Good night, you nice, nice, gentlemen!" he said this with awe-like speed, saluting clumsily at the end. The bailiffs looked at him from above their pudgy noses, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing.
"Yer better not be causing no trouble; ye'll be sorry if ya do," the foremost said again, leering at the two. Muttering to one another, they turned and left, looking over their shoulders at the two boys.
"Whew, that was close, ne? I thought they'd come in here fore sure," Tae said this with a definite relieved air and took out the ale flask again. Gesturing toward it he asked: "Do you want some? You sure could use it. No? Well, suit yourself." With that he took a long swing at the bitter liquid and was, for a time, silent.
Eriol settled down on the hard floor, examining the patterns on the ceiling. He tried to fall asleep, to stop his mind from wandering, but for the first time that day, he could not loose himself in the bliss of slumber. He thought about Tomoyo and what she was doing at that point. Was she somewhere, in a cell similar to his, thinking about him as he was thinking of her? He vowed he'd find her, and his guardians, too, and then they'll be able to go home.
"Hey," began Tae from his position of the floor, "don't worry about it. I'm sure whatever it is, there's a way to solve it. Someone once told me that I needed patience to resolve my problems. And guess what I did? I laughed. Boy, was that funny or what? I don't have time to wait around for things to happen on their own, my schedule's busy as it is. Some things require just a little, itty-bitty push. Well, I thought, I have two hands and I certainly have the will, why not provide that push? It'll work out, I promise ya. But first we need to get out of this place, though. I'm too young for me to die in a yucky place like this. "
Eriol could tell Tae was mumbling senselessly, but it did not matter. At least he wasn't alone. Tae was right, he could do anything with just a little shove in the right direction. Everything would be alright, surely OK. With that thought, warm sleep claimed him, and for the first time that day, it was not a dark, painful void.
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(1)"Kihae daae wha-aeah tahocfo hyu os?" — "Who do you think he is?"
(2)"Eh sayugigiehri, O riyumfoaec." — "A beggar, I reckon"
(3)"Hyu saeriyu os mahtayu tahaeahgih." — "He sure is cute though"
(4)"Kihwha ehriyu wha-aeah takiae hehripaoyus koaeotayuriocgi ehriaeahcda? Giyuta ehkiehwha sayufiraeriyu O tahriaeki wha-aeah sa-aetah taae tahyu paotas!" — "Why are you two harpies loitering around? Get away before I throw you both to the pits!"
(5)"Hyuwha, wha-aeah.." — "Hey, you"
(6)"...Oh, wha-aeah da-aec'ta spayuehfo nwha koehcgiahehgiyu...." — "...Oh, you don't speak my language...."
(7)Pahcaoshyuris — Punishers
Ahhh...I've finally finished this chapter. So sorry I've been so late with it, I've been having some plot problems. But I have no intention of stopping this story, it has completely eaten me, it's too big to ignore now. Now all I have to do is finish that essay that is due tomorrow ;____; Aa, Tae, a long-term character, finally. Who can guess who Tae was based on? ^_______^