Enchanting Duel

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: see chap 1.


Okay...now that school is (almost) over, I'll probably continue my update at least once every week like last summer...yay. I'll really try! I promise! So anyways, I had a temporary departure from writing CCS, and as I was glancing over my old writings of CCS today, I was cringing cause my writings were so bad...I don't know whether I'm being self-critical or whatever, but I don't think I was...I'll try to make them better ^_^ I know...EVERYONE is so MAD at me! I'll say this once: love your enemy is on hiatus for now. That doesn't mean that I'm not continuing it, it just means that there are a lot of directions that I can go with it, and I'm going to think about it.


For now, I hope this will appease you.^-^ I'll try to update this frequently. Please r&r!

^_^



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"Here."

Through a gloomy haze, a cup was brought to her lips. Cool liquid rolled through Sakura's mouth, running down her parched throat. Gagging, Sakura tried to sit up, but she was forced down by strong arms. She struggled against his bind, but she was weak from the sleeping potion that still flowed through her veins, and the sharp pain in her leg.

Vaguely, Sakura recalled that someone was forcing her down, then throwing a blanket over her body. Instinctively, Sakura reached backward, her fingers rummaging around for a rock with which to attack. Her hands clasped something sharp, yet fragile. Without pausing to think, Sakura hurled it, but not before a stinging sensation struck her hand.

Sakura shrieked, the a needle protruding from her finger. Poison seeped through her blood, until she felt light-headed and faint. What she had grabbed was not a rock.

"Dammit!" Someone grabbed her finger, squeezing until Sakura couldn't breathe. She continued screaming, the pain unbearable. Then it felt like the tips of her skin were removed. Through all the pain and screaming, Sakura saw something black extracted from her finger.

"A scorpian's stinger," a male voice said grimly. "You'll be lucky if you survive."

He moped her forehead and Sakura shuddered, wrapping the blankets tighter around her body. It was awfully cold...

"Persistent, aren't you? Or stupid," he muttered. "What am I going to do with you?"

A strong scent of herbal medicines filtered through the tent, lulling and stupefying at the same time. Sakura was shaking, pulling her finger back. Then he grabbed her hand, pushing it into the basin of hot water. Screams echoed through the camp site.

"Let me go!" Sakura shrieked, fighting for control of her hand. His grip was vice-like, and no matter how much she struggled against his hold on her finger, all she managed to do was splash water everywhere. By the time she was duly drenched, the pain had subsided somewhat. Just as Sakura was about to relax, another wave of pain shot through her finger, an electric spring that burned from her hand to her head.

At that very moment, all the strength was sapped out of her. The resolve to do what was right, to fight off the man beside her, to stay steadfastly strong, to say nothing leaked out of her heart. Tears that refused to yield flowed like water from a dam, hot drops that left fire in their wake. Tears fell in her mouth, moistening her lips and leaving salt trails. Like a rag doll, Sakura sagged against her makeshift bed, burying her face in the harsh cloth as tears caved down her face.

It was just a bite, why was she so weak? Thoughts of her brother, of her father, of her people swamped her mind, but all Sakura could do was lay limply on bed. She was already defeated. Another shock ran through her body, sprinting from her finger to her leg.

Suddenly, Sakura realized her hand was thrust in powdery solution. The faint smell of chamomile and tulsi permeated her senses.

"Shit," someone said. "Allergic reaction."

As if in a trance, Sakura recognized the smell. It was a plant that grew along the northern stream near her home, full of spice. When she was younger, she would walk with her friends and pick the flowers that littered the grass, bright spots of color and fragrance. It was a plant called "tulsi" one that only the most skilled could identify. Although a rampant plant, tulsi was tiny and liked to hide beneath weeds and other ferns. Only those that had talent and experience could discover it, mush less use it correctly. But tulsi was dangerous. Used in tiny amounts, it could control malaria or dengue fever, or reduce tension and soothe the nerves. However, if used generously, it could easily kill.

Sweat rolled down Sakura's forehead, and not only from the fever that was plaguing her. Knowledge of her dire situation hit her, and Sakura looked hazily up. Emerald eyes met amber, one full of fear, the other of grim determination.

"Orilington said you were pretty," the young man spoke, "and he never lies."

Sakura stared at him, not comprehending his offbeat words. She was busy hating herself, trying to discover a way she could have avoided the situation. Like any soldier, Sakura had been trained to think things through quickly and efficiently. A way to get out of this predicament, or that predicament with as little damage as possible. But right now, Sakura felt so weak, so useless.

If only I hadn't...

There had to be a way to get out of this. Despite the fact that her entire body was on fire, Sakura was still reasoning through her set of options. Ignoring the pounding in her head, Sakura forced her eyes to turn upwards.

Never show your weaknesses...

"Can you save me?" she breathed heavily. I want to live...

The young man stared at her, as if thinking. Sakura felt fingers touch her face. Warm, they traced the curve of her chin. She thought she saw him smile.

Everything was blurry. The tent, her emotions, her sight. Like in a poor caricature or travesty, shadows fell across Sakura's eyes, so that she saw nothing but weak outlines. All the emotions Sakura felt combined into one: the will to survive to defeat Weimei.

But at the moment that she felt his touch on her face, the blur turned crystal clear. She saw the strength in his chiseled face, the curiosity written in his eyes. Then it started. The terrible feeling in her heart, like it was threatening to split into a million infinitesimal pieces and never come back together as one. This was worse that the pain that hit her body. It tore her into two.

She recognized the boy before her, who was no longer a child like she had seen him last. Sakura could never forget him, and yet...she wished...why did it have to be like this? I can't let anything in the past get in my way...

There was only one person in the universe with eyes like that. Amber, soft yet hard, wild yet cold. Crazy brown hair that never stayed in one place, but was always blowing in the wind or getting tangled in something.

"Who are you?" she whispered, already aware of the answer.

"Syaoran."

"Prince Syaoran..." the words sounded right on her tongue, yet foreign from lack of use. "You look different."


He's not my friend anymore. I cannot trust him, I cannot trust him...Sakura kept repeating in her mind. Li Syaoran, how ironic how fate plays with us...

A whiff of ginger and tulsi made its way to her nose, and Sakura found herself closing her eyes and slipping into slumber again. The effects only lasted a few seconds, but to Sakura it seemed long hours and minutes. When she was awakened, a biting pain clinched her finger, but this time Sakura held her tongue back. No matter what, she would not show weakness to him. She clenched her eyes, fighting the overwhelming urge to scream like a banshee and never stop. There was nothing that would make her openly show weakness to her enemy.

"This will hurt," he whispered. Sakura barely heard him through the pounding of her head.

From the corner of her eye, Sakura saw the glint of metal reflecting in the fire nearby, and felt the cool edge cut through the tip of her index finger on her right hand. Anguish drove through her body, but Sakura refused to scream. Faintly, she acknowledged that Syoaran was cradling her head, whispering something into her ear. Trying to pull away from him only caused more pain. The healer in her knew that the operation was necessary to stop the influx of scorpian poison, but it still hurt.

The top of the blade drove deeper into her skin, and Sakura winced, biting her bottom lip and drawing blood. A combination of metallic blood, salty tears, and sweat descend, falling into her mouth and collecting at her chin. It was then she felt the warm hand that clutched her to give strength and reassurance. Despite the fact that it was his hand, Sakura was comforted by it somehow. Auburn hair was coming out of its plait, and Sakura pushed it away from her eyes, breathing heavily.

"You don't have to be so strong," Syaoran murmured. "Scream if you want."

No...

Then as fast as it had come, the ordeal was over. White cloth was wrapped over the open wound, and blood seeped quickly through the material. Syaoran swore, and continued weaving the bandage until only a tincture of blood crawled through.

It was then that Sakura stopped biting her lip long enough to actually see Syaoran. He was intent on his work, swiveling looks every now and then to read the expression on her face. Methodically, his fingers were adroit and rapid, and he tried to avoid causing any further pain by working around her finger. Chesnut brown hair fell in tousled locks over his eyes, and Sakura had the urge to brush them from his face.

Sakura was no idiot. She recognized skill when she saw it. After all, she had spent her entire life learning to heal and to fight, and it would be an insult to her skill it she didn't notice the way his fingers slipped in and out seamlessly, and the herbal scents that traveled through the atmosphere. Syaoran was dangerous. Sakura had not a shadow of doubt that if he'd wanted to, he could have killed her countless times. Though he hadn't killed her, the knowledge that he could have was a little daunting.

His fingers stopped, and it was over.

Sakura didn't understand him. Why had he chosen to save her? What value could she possibly have, unless...images of emaciated people flew through her mind. People with stomachs that were practically nonexistent as they begged for more food. Rib cages that protruded like sticks and stones, and legs that were slender like canes of wood. Sounds of wailing and the smells of poor health and dilapidated conditions that always permeated prisoner of war camps, concentration camps. Sickness, rape, disease...The one time Sakura had been at one, to rescue a few of her people from Weimei's clutches, she'd had nightmares of it for months. The smells, the sounds, the suffering that clung on the walls like a fly that refused to die...Everything about the place reeked like Hell Her heart thudded loudly in her breast, reminding her of the fear that coursed through her veins whenever she thought about the concentration camps, or the "prisoner of war camps" as they were dubbed.

Headlong, Sakura faced him. She would not go to a concentration camp. She would fight him first. Then she noticed his eyes.

Unlike the first time she'd seen him in the tent, his eyes weren't stoic and cold, or even cruel and uncaring. When she'd first seen him, Sakura had the impression that he was bored with her, and waiting find the best opportunity to flick her off like an annoying roach. It was just his regal air, his calm indifference to everything that caught her attention. Syaoran didn't care a damn about anything, and it was reflected in the cool hue of his eyes.

But now he seemed like an entirely different person.

Instead of a glassy brown, his eyes were now fiery and inflamed in red and brown. He was constantly pushing away a strand or wayward brown hair, like he was agitated or angry at the world. His handsome face was only inches from her face, and despite herself, Sakura blushed.

"Prince Syaoran Li. The infamous sword wielder/healer/spy. I'm honored," she whispered.

"Sakura Kinomoto. Known in a thousand lands for her perseverance and cheerfulness."

Sakura caught the outline of a hilt from the left corner of her eye, and she inwardly grinned. Rule number one: never get caught off guard. In her mind's eye, she grabbed the sword, but what to do with it she was unsure.

"Syaoran Li. Known for his extensive knowledge in herbs," she shot back.

Without his notice, Sakura inched her right hand backwards, until it rested on the sword hilt. Slowly, her hand molded into position, fingers gripping the blade expertly. Sakura would only get one chance, and she would have to use it wisely.

"Sakura Kinomoto. Thought to beat Cyrano the Great in a one on one duel."

"He was injured," Sakura replied.

"Sakura Kinomoto. Modest and pretty."

"Syaoran Li. Has a great of affinity for showering injured girls with flattery." She smirked.

"Sakura Kinomoto. Rebelled against Huang, her own kingdom."

Sakura tightened her grip on the blade. "And if I did? Don't you understand what Weimei is doing to his people? Have you seen the treachery he imposes on us, the meaningless rules meant to gather more wealth to his "city on the hill"? What he…what he did to my mother?" Her voice cracked on the last note.

An icy brown stare met her passionate emerald. But for a second, his gaze wavered, then the shield was back in place.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he whispered. "It's you, your county that began a meaningless massacre from the hill sides to the ocean. Albeit, Weimei's ruling powers are less-than-stellar, but at least he tries to fix the sins that Torinth commits. And then you, you have the integrity so start a civil war to make up for the shit that you've done."

Not pausing to think, Sakura stood up, the fire dancing before her eyes.

"How dare you say those lies! You're the fool for believing the drivel he's fed you!"

She slapped him, a quick blow that never went for a second round because he grabbed her arm. Trying to pull free was futile, but it didn't stop her from struggling and kicking up dirt everywhere.

"Let me go!"

Where he gripped her, Sakura felt the blisters in his hands from long hours with the sword. His hands were tough and big, and Sakura hated the way he was stronger than her.

"Bravo. I must say, Countess Sakura, I admire your determination, though you lack much in common sense."

It wasn't Syaoran that said it. The voice was a little deeper, more amused. Sakura didn't recognize it at first, until she whirled around and saw King Weimei himself, opening the flap of the tent and grinning a self-satisfied smirk.

Sakura stiffened. Weimei...the High King of Huang. This was the man that Torinth was trying to overthrow, the man that deserved to die. He was right in front of her!

"Weimei."

Syaoran was speaking now, and she noticed an edge to his tone that hadn't been there before. He was scowling, Sakura was aware of his hand over hers, as if he was protecting her.

Weimei walked forward, his boots clomping on the dirt and sending a torrent of dust into the air. Sakura coughed. Weimei's cape blew about in the wind, fluttering wildly; his tall figure intimidating; his fair face, though contorted with malice, conveying the complexion of a King. Sakura stiffened; she now understood why so many girls and women alike were betrayed and beheaded or hung by him. Against her will, Sakura had to admit that he was handsome, almost as much as Syaoran. What was that her onii-chan had told her? Know your enemy, know his strengths, his points of popularity...his lethal traits. Known across many kingdoms as a womanizer, Sakura had to watch out for him.

She had heard many tales, most of which she discerned were true. A few years ago, when he was only 18, he had raped and killed a girl of 17, and similar cases were discovered over the kingdom of Huang. None of the rumors were officially recognized because Weimei had the entire court system eating out of his palm and he refused to have any of the allegations investigated.

Yet, it was obvious that they were true from the way that Weimei watched her.

The King had black hair that was long enough to fall slightly down his back, enchanting brown eyes, and a grin that would make all the girls in Torinth swoon. Sakura clenched her fist. What she wouldn't give to punch him, to accentuate a purple-black welt on his face to smite his beauty. He infuriated her, and just thinking of what he did to her mother set her blood boiling.

"Countess Sakura. Mind if I call you Sakura-chan?" Weimei drawled. He stepped toward her, until he was right in front of her face. His fingers trailed over her soft features, down over her cheeks, stopping as they neared her neck, until his fingers were above her breast. His gaze lingered down her body, and Sakura began to feel uncomfortable. Goosebumps were left where he touched her.

Then the moment was over.

"Dammit, Weimei do you want me do to this or not?"

Sakura saw Syaoran had placed one hand on her waist, as if holding her back, and then other on the hilt that hung on his belt. Syaoran was scowling heavily, darkness beneath his eyes.

"Of course, Prince Syaoran. Carry on."He grinned, his dark eyes hinting at an innuendo that Sakura didn't like. His eyes were saying you'll be mine.

Glaring back, Sakura shot him a look that read quite clearly, if you-step-closer-I'll-castrate-you look. After another tense moment, Weimei pulled open the flap, letting a ray of sunshine shine through for an instant.

"Countess Sakura, Prince Syaoran will escort you to the concentration camps. Though in a twisted sense, I suppose that you are royalty," Weimei grinned. "Too bad we don't give special privileges to revolutionists. Of course, there are other…alternative shall we say..." His voice trailed off suggestively.

Her cheeks flamed in disgust and amazement. He wanted her to become his concubine! Sakura wanted to slap him until his cheeks bled, then-then- She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts. Getting angry without sense would get her nowhere but the dungeon. Or no, not the dungeon. What was that he'd said? The concentration camp...

With a whirl of the tent flap, he was gone. They could both here the rapid clomp of horse hooves on the plain, then it faded away into the distance.

Syaoran swore, driving his sword into the ground. Sakura jumped.

"Hey, what are you-

But Syaoran placed a finger on her lips, his eyes commanding silence. He reached down, extracting something round, but one-dimensional from the dirt. It was a piece of leather with a large tear in the middle where the blade of the sword had gone through the center. Syaoran was still mumbling beneath his breath, cursing in a language that Sakura didn't comprehend.

"Mind telling me-

The leather glowed for an instant. If it had been entirely dark, the glow might have been attributed to an illusion or sign of insanity. But with the sun slanting slowly through the tent fold and creating sunspots across the canvas, the glow was unmistakable.


Deep in the leather was a strip of silver wrapped in stands of green.

Sakura moved to touch the vine that surrounded the metal, but Syaoran stopped her with barely a blink.

"Don't touch it."

Squatting down, Sakura saw that it was a beautiful vine, luscious and green. A terrible urge to touch it overwhelmed her, and Sakura reached forward, the plant yielding to her touch.

Not heeding Syaoran's warning, she plodded forward. At first it was soft, the tresses soothing her skin, but in an instant, Sakura discovered why it wasn't too wise to do that.

It was like touching fire mixed with pine needles. The plant crept through her skin, piercing her epidermis and drawing blood. For a few seconds, Sakura just stared dumbly at the red pus that was overflowing from her finger, like it wasn't her blood, but someone else's. And then a spark behind her eyes exploded, and the pain finally hit. Her hand was on fire, the shock running over her body, sending tempests of torment across every nuance of her body. Tears poured like a deluge from her eyes, but this time Sakura held back the screams that tingled to wrack her body.

"What the hell is wrong with you! Fuck!" Syaoran was practically tearing her finger off. First, he brought out some herbs and began chopping them up like a whirlwind. After stuffing them in water, the tent was once again immersed in the fresh vapor. "What's wrong with you? Can't you stay out of trouble for one damn second?"

"That plant's called starwort. The needles embedded in your finger will either blister and infect, turning into pus, or it'll decay. They have to be taken out now, but it'll hurt like hell."

Sakura didn't hear him. All she heard was the single word Weimei had uttered, the one that sent chills down her spine and shudders through her shoulders. Concentration camp…

Her other hand still clutched the short sword.

"Will you take me to the concentration camp?"

Syaoran eyed her. "Maybe. So what?"

She pulled away from him, but Syaoran yanked her hand back and continued pulling needles from her fingers. "Don't you understand? The conditions there are terrible, and what they do to some of the girls-

"You're scared."

"Don't be silly. I'm not scared of anything," she said defensively. Sakura was gripping the sword so hard that tiny outlines etched into her hand.

"You're bluffing."

Sakura wanted to retort, but she had to use all of her energy to breathe.


That was when Sakura saw it. Outside, it was getting unaccustomedly windy, and the gales were blowing things waywardly. For a second, the flap of the tent flew open, and Sakura saw a horse grazing without being tied down to a post or a pole. There were no people outside, and the horse was alone. Sakura smiled to herself. The perfect plan; to escape and shame Li Syaoran.

Sakura would steal his horse and haul away, laughing at the world as Li Syaoran was forced to chase after her. It was foolproof, and there was no way she could fail.


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"Weimei."

The King looked up from mounds of paperwork, absently pulling strands from his feather pen. He could still envision her in his memory; how the little light that filtered from the tent set her hair in cloud of iridescence, the quirk of her eyebrow as she fought with his commander. Dressed in rags, she could easily be passed off as a commoner, if it weren't for the aura she possessed, and the beauty that not even years of soot could erode. The King laughed to himself, imagining the way her face would look when she was forced before the court, or the tribunal as he liked to call it, without even a string of support or chance to clear her name. He would offer her two choices, a take-it-or-leave it deal. One would be to submit to his rule, to become his mistress that he would master, whip, or do whatever he wanted to control. The King smirked at this. Every man's dream was a wild woman, and with a girl that was almost 16 or 17 with no respect for authority, his visions would be realized. The other option was more bloody and less interesting. If all else failed, he could always host a public hanging, and have her as the grand attraction.

Women of the court and even commoners of Huang (he didn't care which) were so weak willed. As soon as they saw him, they exploded in a flurry of flattery and nervous stutters.

"O-o-o-o my K-k-k-I-I-mean m-m-m-l-l-l-o-r-d," they would stammer.

Of course, Weimei would smile politely, in the true gentlemen's fashion. They would dance, she would flatter, ask about his health and the land, and Weimei would answer, nodding every now and then to show that he was paying attention and absorbing her words. Sometimes (especially with the court ladies) the topic would be superficial, about the latest fashions or dances, and she would always ask for his opinion on the outfit she was wearing. Weimei would say she looked completely ravishing, and the woman would blush and say thank you. Then, he would take her arm and escort her to bed, sometimes without her consent.

The rest was history.

At times, mysterious babies would turn up in the kingdom, but none of the women had the courage to confront the King about it. Especially the commoners; they would slink into the background and not even hint at the father of their child. It was just as well, because if any of them had bothered to affront the King, he would have hanged them, the mother and the child.

Weimei sighed careless, not listening to a word his advisor decreed. What did he care if the people's crop's were dry, and a drought was plaguing his kingdom? Agriculture was only one matter of the Huang production, and it would fix itself later. Besides, they had a seaport economy as well, and he didn't care if only half of the population went hungry. They'd survive somehow; they always did. The fact that his people would have to live in poverty and penury never bothered him.

All that the King cared about was the war with Torinth, and Countess Sakura. He remembered her mulberry lips, and how he yearned to kiss them with his own, and touch her. When Weimei smiled, it wasn't the gentle smile of a man in love, but the cruel, malicious grin of man who saw prey, and wanted it as his own. Desire gleamed in his eyes, lust for her body, lust for a woman who would fight back and not give in until she was beaten to the bone.

Weimei saw that in her. She was a fighter, and would not sit down when she could stand up.

He laughed, throwing back his head. The last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep was the look she had in her eyes, of extreme loathing and defiance.

What was that he had done several years ago? Ah yes. He'd ordered her mother, Nadeshiko Kinomoto, executed by hanging when he was only 16. Those were the days, the days before his father died and left him an entire kingdom to rule. It was really quite interesting, because though his father was the one in power before he died, Weimei had exerted so much influence on him that essentially, Weimei had been the King every since he was 14.

But that was of no importance. Sakura Kinomoto would be his, her purity, her virginity, her beauty and wit for him to soil and command. How he would cherish the moment when she was his forevermore.

He would enjoy breaking her will, watching as days went by, with only one choice clear…to become his.


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Okay, so perhaps there was a way she could fail. Just as Sakura was about to make a break for the nearest horse, she began to feel light-headed. Normally, she wasn't one of those hypochondriac girls that fainted and made a big deal out of it. On the other hand, she was the type of girl who would break her legs, her arms, and her brain and pretend that everything was fine.

But now, as Sakura stood up quickly, the air swooshing about, she had to hang on to Syaoran's hand to keep from falling. This process lost her a few precious seconds, and then she lost further momentum by falling anyway. Perhaps she could have escaped if Syaoran would let go of her hand, or if a dark figure didn't happen to be standing in the "doorway" at the exact moment she was going to run for it.

"Prince Syaoran," the figure said coldly.


"Loddess."

Syaoran took one look at the dark shadow and whispered harshly into her ear, "Sakura, get the hell away from him! If you want to stay out of the prisoner of war camps, run!" Then he gave her a little push, and Sakura didn't have to be told twice. She ducked through the flap, somehow eluding the arms that reached out to capture her. Running for her life, Sakura leaped for the horse, mounting easily. The pounding in her head was tyrannical now, and her right hand felt like it had died on her, not to mention her leg, which was throbbing insanely.

A loud swishing noise flew past her head. Turning around, Sakura recognized belatedly that it was a sword aimed at her. Syaoran was standing at the campsite, hurling badly aimed daggers at her head. He grinned a little crookedly, winking at her like it was a chess he was playing, and not a dangerous game with her life.

He's doing it on purpose! He's trying purposely not to hit me! Sakura realized. But why? Images flew through her head...it had to be a rivalry between Syaoran and the guy he called Loddess. There was no other explanation, because why else would he let her escape?

This isn't going to last long Sakura told herself. I have to get away from them as fast as I can, because as soon as Loddess leaves, Syaoran will come after me, and I can't be sure of his loyalties. Who knows, maybe right now, he's straddling a horse to chase me. Sakura turned around, but Syaoran was still flipping daggers blindly at her. Maybe not. Indignation and hate flowed through her veins, and Sakura knew what she would have to do.


I have to take down Weimei.

She turned her horse west, in the direction of the capital of Huang. The sky was clear, and no dark clouds hung over the horizon. Sakura would have to ride fast into the night, and into the next morning, but it was possible to reach Huang by sundown tomorrow if she wasn't stopped.

Sakura hoped that her onii-chan was safe, as well as the rest of their tiny army. If Kami-sama was on her side, she would arrive shortly before reinforcements came.