Disclaimer: Though all the GW characters from the series aren't mine, the story is, and so are the other characters. I'll send Heero after anyone who steals them!
Warnings: shounen ai, swearing, magic
Notes: Thanks for the reviews, and I hope they keep coming!
Chara: Course I love you! You review, and you give me pocky! :) And don't worry, I'll keep writing till the end of this fic. It's too good to drop!
Stephanie Yuy: Hehe... there's still several pieces of the puzzle floating around, but they'll fall in place eventually. Glad you liked it, and sors this didn't come out sooner!
Emcron: I'm really glad you like Roleplay that much. So glad that I can leap around and jump around for joy, 'xept that this study is tiny and I'll end up crashing into the computer, which won't do anyone any good. Thanks!
hikari hime: Um, next chappie coming up right about now. Exchange sounds cool, even with teachers and the rest of it. Hope you keep having fun!
Shadowofdragons: Well here's the next chapter, I'm glad you liked the last one. Hope you enjoy!
Mariel Yuy: Hi! I'm sorry for not sending more of RP. I've been revising the early chapters, but hadn't gotten around to 9 and 10, and they were really long ones. Tell me if you need them in a hurry and I'll send you the unrevised versions. Again, I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for reviewing!
¡@
Part XXII: Sacrifice
They stood silently for several moments, then the twang of metal reached their ears. Hilde looked up sharply. Following her gaze, Zechs gave a slight nod and spoke. "We have to get out there."
"I know." Duo's voice was bleak, but he rose briskly, his violet eyes miraculously dry. Suri found herself recalling a bout of depression almost two years ago, when she shut herself in her room and cried herself to sleep. When she did not appear for their nightly gathering, Duo sought her out and gave her a mini-lecture on how she should trust her friends. She asked him whether he would want to cry in front of them. He was quiet for a long time, but his final reply now echoed in her mind - "Boys don't cry, Suri. My brother taught me that." She did not have a response then, nor did she now.
Suri followed her companions as they hurried towards the fighters not too far away. Suddenly, Heero stopped. "Relena."
Zechs halted. "Trowa, Duo, Wufei, Sally, go back in. Scout the area, and either hide or evacuate the people still in there. If there are any injuries, deal with them. I don't want any more deaths on our account." Heero frowned at him, but the prince shook his head curtly. Wufei won't fight, Sally is needed as a Healer and Duo and Trowa are good at stealth. Your skills are required here. He was running onwards even as he thoughtspoke.
In spite of the steady commands, Suri could sense the tension that was hidden beneath Zechs' calm exterior. She could guess at part of it; for one thing, none of them held any doubts that the attacks were somehow caused by their presence, and for another, she knew the prince felt guilty at being too shocked to remember the other people in the building. The rational part of her mind whispered that the attacks were the fault of the attackers, but the voice did not ease her conscience, and it would provide even less relief for her friend.
There. Rashid pointed.
Sure enough, uniformed fighters were locked in physical and Magical combat with the Maguanacs and the gypsies. Suri frowned. There was something disturbing about the precise, calculated movements; each attack was ruthless and totally coordinated with the attacks of their teammates. The accuracy of the attacks exceeded even Heero's and Wufei's, and the fighters seemed to fight as a single being, not a well-trained group of individuals. It reminded her of a choreographed dance she once studied.
Come on. The mercenary glanced at them, and pointed again when they showed no sign of moving.
Wait. Zechs studied the fighters intently. Going in there like this would not work. The Maguanacs and the gypsies number almost sixty, yet they are on par with a band of forty fighters. And look at the formation of the men. It's inflexible, and theoretically too rigid for practical use, but the fighters are always at precisely the right positions at the right times, and none of them seem to have been injured. It is too perfect by human standards."
Heero sent a mental confirmation. They move like one being,
Gharza. Suri supplied. 'United as one.' It's a dance where all the moves are choreographed so that the troupe looks like a large, dancing creature.
But the moves of an enemy cannot be predetermined, Heero replied with a slight bite of impatience.
I know. I think... I think they're being controlled.
Controlled?
Ah... Quatre stared at the fighters. I understand. Even if the enemy's moves were not pre-planned, a creature with many arms and weapons will fare better than forty men with one set of arms and weapons each.
But how?
Does it matter? Rashid's mental voice was tight, almost harsh with urgency. His people were out there; although he and the others were transmitting thoughts, not cumbersome words, the process still wasted valuable time.
Quatre glanced at him, understanding in his aqua eyes. I'm sorry, Rashid, but it does; if we can find the source of control, we can block or destroy it. Going in without understanding it will waste our advantage of surprise.
The man was silent for a moment. What do you mean by 'control', then?
Coercion, answered Heero. But willing coercion, by the looks of things.
Could Anokiv be doing this? Hilde wondered.
The Mage considered. Possibly, but he would need somebody's eyes.
Not one of the fighters?
Not distant enough. There would not be enough scope to work from.
How do you know it's Anokiv, though? Blue and gold are not Oz's standard colours.
Zechs glanced at Suri, then thought for a moment. Family colours. The Ronterdo coat of arms contains a golden serpent bordered by a blue trim.
Right. She looked around. So the eye-person has to be on the outskirts of the battle, probably around here. On a high vantage point, perhaps. But I can't sense anything.
After a moment, Heero shook his head. Nor can I. Neither shields, nor absenses of shields.
Does it have to be a person? Hilde queried.
...no. It would be possible to enhance an object if the inward flow of Magical energy from the planes is strong enough. He closed his eyes in concentration, before snapping them wide open. There!
They all turned. He was pointing at a cluster of trees some distance away. When they looked at him in confusion, Heero elaborated, Within the hollow created by the vines, over there. There's a power-stone of some sort, and it is the 'eye'.
Can it be broken? An affirmative. Then I'll go. I'm the lightest, and trees listen to me.
Before they could respond, the gypsy girl had already flitted off. They could only watch as she wove through seemingly inpenatrable bushes and headed towards the vital object. Suri felt her heart pounding. Hilde, don't let it see you!
Perhaps the gypsy was already too focused on her task, because Suri heard no reply. She took a deep breath, whispering a prayer to Zolte. Oh, please let her be alright...
The palace in Rondalez [1] had been built from the finest marble of the land, and had remained unaffected by the passage of time. The floors were still smooth, the stairs unchipped and the pillars tall and proud. Very much like our court, Treize mused, and very much unlike the palace in Sanq. Oz's neighbouring nation had a palace that both looked and felt vastly different. The halls, made of sandstone, was a light shade of brown, and warmed in sunlight to an almost golden colour.
Slightly rougher, perhaps, and not as dignified, but considerably warmer to both physical and emotional senses. It was a curious comparison, but he seemed to be making more and more of those lately. In fact, strange thoughts had crowded his mind ever since he returned to the Oz capital some two days ago. The Asian youth from Sanq flitted in and out of them, as did his recent experiences, but first and foremost in his thoughts was his father, and their earlier conversation.
*** Flash ***
"Your Majesty," Treize said formally, bowing as required. "And Chief Mage Ronterdo. I trust you are well?"
"Yes, yes. I am glad to see you back, my son." The monarch beckoned him closer, smiling. "And even gladder to hear that everything went as planned."
"There was no reason why it should not have, your Highness. Have I not assured you of that continuously?" The cultured voice was calm, measured, slightly tinged with a calculated dash of amusement. In fact, had Treize not known Bocherik Ronterdo as well as he did, he would not have seen through the careful smile to the condescension beneath it.
As it was, Treize merely watched as the king coughed and replied, "Yes, yes, you most surely have, Ronterdo, but it is never the same as receiving news of absolute truth. So tell me, son, it did all run smoothly?"
"Yes, Father. All proceeded as you had predicted it would. Everybody was at the celebrations, and most were unarmed. We had no trouble overcoming them."
"Good, good. Ah, the Sanq and their Goddess." King Khushrenada took a sip from his goblet. "How could they have known that it would lead to their downfall? All that merrymaking, all those tributes, and all for some imaginary deity. It would have been so much more challenging if they directed their attentions towards practical things." He laid the goblet down, coughing, then took it up again. "Still, there's no good in looking at a gift horse in the mouth, as they used to say." Another sip. "They are under control, yes?"
"The ones who are alive are being held captive. There are few of them, though." The prince sharply at the Mage, noting half-consciously that he was now taller than the older man. "Your plan did not allow for many."
Bocherik's smile did not reach his eyes. "My prince, you are but young, if you will pardon my saying so. You will learn soon that keeping enemies alive will serve no real purpose, other than to provide problems for the future."
He kept his face calm. "And do you suggest killing everybody indiscriminately will not, my lord?"
"There are bound to be complications, I admit," came the humbly dignified reply, "but I was merely trying to accommodate for future changes. I did not feel it wise to leave things to chance."
"Enough," interrupted the king as another coughing fit wracked his obese body. "Son, we have been through this before. Don't begin arguments over things that have been done; matters require enough thought as things are."
"Yes, your Majesty," Treize said, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "I will not bring it up again. How has your health been?"
"Ah, just the usual, eh, Ronterdo?" He gave the Mage a smile. "Our Mage has been keeping an eye on me."
"It is my duty and my pleasure, your Majesties," came the smooth reply.
"Nonetheless, I am most grateful for your care in regards to my father's wellbeing, my lord." Treize answered blandly, affording the man with a slight bow. Two can play at this game, 'my lord'. He turned back to the king. "Did you have any plans for me, your Majesty?"
"Ah, no, I merely wished to hear your report in person, you know how it is." A sip - it was beginning to irritate Treize. "Anyway, Ronterdo assured me most earnestly that you were not 'tied in', as they say. I'm sure Noin and Anokiv can easily handle things in your absence." A small cough, quickly suppressed.
"Yes, your Majesty." His tone remained self assured. "I shall take a few days to rest, then; after all, I must say that our palace is infinitely more suited for royalty than the Sanq palace." At least, if the royalty is as distant and indifferent as father is. "Then I shall return and wrap things up, if it is required. But I presume there is no more need for any killings?"
"No, no - it is only the palace that needed dealing with, after all."
"Yes." So he had been right; his father knew naught of any city slaughters... no more than he did, at any rate. And he himself knew precious little beyond what the Asian youth revealed. Someone had obviously deemed it unnecessary to 'burden' him with such knowledge, if indeed the knowledge existed. He would have to wait, then. "With your permission, your Highness, I will take my leave."
"Yes, yes, you must be tired after hurrying here. Go refresh yourself, and drop in and see me before you leave, eh?"
Treize bowed. "Yes, your Highness."
*** End Flash ***
It would have been better if Bocherik had not made it in time to heal him, ten years ago. I was inexperienced then, it is true, but I had been taught well, and could have learnt. At the least I would not be slowly losing my mind. His opinions mattered little, though; while his military accomplishments could not be denied by Bocherik or by any other, his competency was seen as limited to the battlefields. His political influence had not increased; sometimes, it seemed as though he was doomed to life as a figurehead.
He sighed, and hid it quickly, nodding slightly at a passing servant before the old man could scrape and bow. With a slightly bewildered look, the servant hurried away. Treize shook his head.
Don't they see, there is no point in competing with fools, much less unarmed ones. I have no objection to conquering Sanq - indeed, I would be the first to agree to it - but not by catching them unaware. Especially not when we had a pact of neutrality with them. We are not yet powerful enough to abandon all treaties, whatever father may think. If all the free peoples rallied behind Sanq - and they have reason to do that, I know - we will most likely be defeated.
But the king seemed to be quite firm in his belief of Oz's invincibility. His actions of late had proved as much; Treize had been downright shocked when news reached him about the murder of gypsy Eldar Ruiore [2] and his people. Oh, Bocherik had been quick to tell him that it was an accident, but there had been no effort to reassure the gypsies - at least, not to his knowledge. And if what Treize had guessed from the Sanq soldier was true, the clans might also be mobilising against Oz. And there was only so much that they could do against such unpredictable enemies.
Thinking of the Sanq soldier brought back some of his more confusing remarks about slaughters in the city. That was the main reason why he planned to stay for even a few days; he needed to know whether what the Asian told him was true. But Une could only contact her informants in person; there was too much risk, otherwise. And the informants all held rather important and immovable offices.
Just then, a voice sounded from behind him. "Your Highness."
"Lady Une," he greeted the woman as he turned to face her. Her hair was down, falling past the blue embroideries of her dress. In fact, she looked every inch the noble lady, and was worlds apart from her other role, the ruthless, businesslike Colonel Une. He wondered if she even noticed it sometimes. "You have news for me?"
"Yes, your Highness."
"Excellent." He took her arm and steered her into the rose gardens.
They split into two parties with Trowa paired with Duo in the first, and Wufei and Sally in the other. The former pair took the more obvious paths while the latter sought out some of the camouflaged hallways and their occupants. Since evacuation seemed out of the question while fighting persisted outside, Sally gave them directions to an underground storage vault. It was an unspoken consensus that whoever encountered enemy forces would try to eliminate them. Keeping anyone for torture at such a time would simply be too risky.
As they rounded a corner some ten minutes later, Wufei froze. Sally glanced at him. Wordlessly, the youth nodded at the adjoining branch, motioning for her to remain silent. She listened carefully. Sure enough, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the walls. Do we go over?
...You decide. I cannot fight. He looked away
Sally almost swore at him, but she stopped herself just in time. Very well. Go now, then. Contact Duo and Trowa and tell them to come.
With that, she retraced her steps quickly. After a split second, she sensed Wufei's presence behind her, and sent without turning, Go, Wufei. Leave while you can. The other part of her, the weaker part, was pleading with him to stay, but Sally quelled it stubbornly. Hurry.
There was no reply for a moment. Then, as they took an about-turn and entered what appeared to be their original hallway's twin, he muttered, There may be something I can do besides fight. I will come.
Sally did not respond, though her heart leapt. Before her was a slight curve in the path, hiding them from view, and she backed up against the wall quietly. The noises remained some distance away. They have stopped.
Yes. He closed his eyes in concentration, listening. There's some struggle... not much. They probably have one prisoner, or more, but are in control.
Sally bit her lip; this was bad. She had hoped that no innocent people would be drawn into this conflict. Suddenly, someone barked a loud command. It was followed by an exclamation of pain. Suddenly, she could no longer stand by. Wufei, I'm going in. There was no reply, only a shadowing presence, and the consequent relief.
Then, the people came into view. Sally had tried to be stealthy and it paid off; the garbed men, whose backs were turned, paid them no heed. What stopped her, however, was what she could see beyond the men's shoulders - Jorad, an old serving man who had resided at the Cloister for decades. He had, according to Father Maxwell, sought refuge from the pursuit of some creditor, and had decided to remain after his problems were solved. Oh no.
From the stances of the men, it was obvious that they were holding Jorad captive, and she felt anger well up inside her. At that moment, two things happened - first, Jorad caught sight of her and gasped, and second, the men in blue and gold turned, noticed their presence and attacked. She barely had time to react to their onslaught.
The fight blurred together; she wielded a sharp dagger in one hand, and used the other as a physical aid to her anti-Healing powers. But although the men's shields were not very strong, having to work through five - no, six - shields at the same time was draining. Half-consciously, she felt Wufei slip past her and free Jorad from the simple restraints. At least he might be safe. Wufei, run!
There was chaos. For an instant, it seemed as though a tremor ran through the enemy fighters; their faces became blank and their eyes glassy. Then, almost as one creature, they turned towards the tree where the 'eye' had been. "Attack!"
Almost as the voice spoke, a single silver arrow materialised from the surrounding trees, striking and deflecting some flying object with a soft 'ping'. A volley of similar arrows followed. Hilde gasped as she ducked low. She recognised the weapons of her people, just as she recognised the fact that the small dart had somehow been aimed directly at her.
Careless, careless. She should have guessed that the fighters would respond; by now, there was no doubt in her mind that this was the Seconds, one of Oz's strongest operational teams. What she had not known was that these fighters were loyal to Anokiv Ronterdo. That bastard keeps ruining things everywhere. And now I've forced Father to show his hand.
That Luoirdo was here also surprised Hilde greatly, though she chose to block the shock for the moment. Yet there was no doubt that her people had fired the arrows either; as sure as the enemies the Seconds, the allies were certainly of gypsy background. And only one gypsy party would be able and willing to rescue her.
Hilde had no idea of the reason behind this sudden change of mind, but all would be revealed in due course, as was the way of her people; it seemed, though, that she had underestimated her father once again. The blatant unreasonableness and stubbornness of the Elder had frustrated her, and was finally what drove her into leaving, but now she doubted what had seemed to be her own decision. The more she thought about it, the more it appeared to be an orchestrated move from someone who knew her all too well.
But why did he help just then? a part of her mind wondered. Hilde felt the faintest hint of dread. Luiordo would not have broken neutrality pacts for her, or even for all the people in his charge; the future of all the gypsies was too large a thing to overlook. So that meant the treaties were already broken.
With a supreme effort, she directed her focus back to the fighting. Some of the gypsies had emerged and joined with 'her' forces, and together with the Maguanacs, they were gaining an advantage - but too slowly. The enemy was still frightfully strong, and the attacks were as swift and powerful as they had been. The only difference was that the coordination was not as perfect as before.
Their reputation is well earned... damn. She moved forward quietly, heading towards the fighting people. It's lucky Father did come; the Maguanacs and my people are excellent fighters, but most of them are injured and weary. Then, several blurs of black leapt from the bushes and almost immediately, multicoloured sparks of energy danced through the air. Hilde squinted; sure enough, only Zechs, Rashid and Quatre had come onto the scene.
Good. That means we have protection for a while... or at least we should, if Heero is as powerful as Suri claims. Some of the people were rising from where they had fallen as a physically and magically guarded Quatre moved among them. She inched forward some more, gently coaxing the tangle of bushes to ease out of her way.
Hilde? Her head snapped up. Listen, do you see a blonde man from where you are?
She looked. Blonde hair, tied up and tucked into the uniform?
That's the one. He's the Mage now that the 'eye' has shattered. He is the one blocking our attacks. Can you take him out?
Hilde studied the figure. He's nearby. Just give me a moment.
There was an unspoken affirmative from the other girl. Hilde peered carefully through a larger gap, positioning her body so it could launch the tiny dart she held. Then, she waited silently for the figure to turn. The very moment it did, she flicked her wrist and the silvery weapon flew straight at the person's chest.
Hilde held her breath, then gasped in shock and tried to duck, but it was too late; her dart had been deflected, and the retaliation - a powerful bolt of Magical energy - was too strong. She toppled, and could only watch as a pair of icy blue eyes fixed on her. A slender arm lifted itself, and belatedly, she thought to herself, that's not a man, you idiot. Sure enough, the fingers twisted themselves in a derisive signal unique to highborn females, and a slow smirk touched the Mage's lips as she pointed at Hilde.
Just then, a figure leapt from the bushes and dove at the woman. There was a small blink of shock, a brief tussle. The Mage fell, clutching her chest; then, Hilde saw the small hilt. Her eyes widened as they turned towards the other figure, who was breathing deeply and erratically. "Father!"
Notes:
[1] - Roh-n-daah-lehz
[2] - Roo-i-ore-i
As most of you know, I'm none too comfortable with battle
scenes. Hope you enjoyed it anyway. And as always, please review! (If I get
lots, I won't leave the cliffhanger too long... hehehe... *evil cackle*)
