Mid-S: Hey people! You have no idea how long and painful this chapter was to write. T_T But because I love all of you so much, I decided to write it anyway. And now, to the reviews!

IRON MOUSY: *blush* Aw, how nice of you to say that. ^_^ No they're not real places, but I'm glad that the story made you think they where. *glomps her and gives her chocolate* Thankies for the review! ^__^

UNICA: Thanks for adding me to favourite stories. ^_^ How do I know so much? Well, I did study all these languages, so yeah. Thanks for the review! You're so sweet. ^_~ *gives her a Seto Kaiba plushie*

RU-CHAN: You've noticed the gender thing too huh? I have no idea how or why he keeps changing to she. Maybe it's Fanfiction.net? Anywho, Bakura, be nice to Ru-Chan! She's a great person! *nod-nod*

ESCACHICK: Hey hun! ^_^ I always love your reviews, they're so encouraging. *glomps her* Here you go! *gives her Jou and white roses* Have fun you two! I hope Alastor isn't too jealous about this date. ^_~

CAT IN THE WEB: Thanks for saying that! *squeals in delight* Hope you like this chapter too!

SILVER DRAGON SOVEREIGHN I: Hey, I'm really glad you like the story! ^_^ Thanks for reviewing darlin'!

HIDDEN LIGHT: Thanks for the review sweetie! Yeah, the wrong gender thing must be some kind of mess-up with Fanfiction.net. Oh well. Thanks for reviewing! ^__^

HUSH PUPPIE: Yeah, you tell him H-Chan! *twaps Otogi too* Anywho, it's okay that you didn't review for the last chapter. I understand. ^_^ I still wuv you! *glomps her* Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed also! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! And now, the fic!

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Birds sing

Song of unknown tongue

Though winged, they

Still fail to reach the sky

A place not to be treaded alone

So take me

To a true Elsewhere

Wet feathers,

Locked fingers,

Melting flesh,

Fusing minds

Take me

I want happiness

Not your past

But your present is what I seek,

Carefully winding back its fragile thread

Please take me there

I want happiness

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The slopes of the hills surrounding the valley were covered by dense forest. They rode through stands of alder and red oak, leaves stained brilliant red in the setting sun and drifting to the ground.

As the slope flattened and fanned out into the valley, they passed a mournful caravan of creaking carts. A lifeless arm had fallen trough the slats of one. The sleeve wrapped about that out-thrust arm was that of a plain, coarse woolen tunic of a style commonly worn by Saxon thanes (1).

Jou shuddered as an icy hand moved deep inside him. All the horrors he had foreseen and dreaded had come to pass, for the carts carried the bodies of Bakura's dead soldiers. Mounted behind him in the saddle, Seto was stoically silent.

A distance apart, hunched figures lined the ridge of a low ravine. They were darkly ominous shapes in the fading light, in appearance greatly resembling those harbingers of death-black crows.

As they rode closer, Jou saw them bend and straiten, bend and straiten in a kind of macabre dance as they threw spadefuls of earth into the ravine.

At the bottom were grotesquely twisted shapes - the bodies of mounted soldiers and their horses - some still astride, bodies trapped beneath the crushing weight of their fallen mounts.

They were piled on top of one another as if some giant hand had swept them into the ravine. Horrified, Jou realized they had fallen to their deaths in a downhill charge towards Bakura's army.

"They are Norman," Seto said, his voice low and seemingly devoid of any emotion.

Jou's foreknowledge of Bakura's defeat at Hastings had brought with it an overwhelming sense of loss for the countless Saxons who had died there. But those grotesquely twisted bodies reminded him that Norman soldiers - a great many of them - had died here as well.

As a healer he'd seen death among the families at Naigai. From disease or an accident. An old woman whose time was at an end, or an infant whose time had come too soon and could not live. But nothing in his life or his gift of foreknowledge had prepared him for what he saw now.

Instinctively, he wanted to hide from the death and destruction he saw. But he knew he couldn't. His gift of inner sight would not allow it as his senses filled with an awareness of the battle now past.

Though he tried to block them out, they still came, that prescience of vision of things past and future, that was both gift and curse.

What Shadi had told him since childhood was never truer. The power of sight that he'd been born with and his mother before him:

"Your special gift can bring great joy as well as great sorrow," Shadi had explained. "You must be strong enough to accept both or it will destroy you."

"If I see sad things, then I do not want it." Katsuya remembered telling him. Shadi had smiled at him tenderly, laying a hand tenderly against his cheek. His voice was filled with his own sadness.

"The choice is not yours to make, brevis quendam. (2) It was made long ago, by one far older and wiser then you or me. He knew you would be strong enough. You will find the strength within yourself to bear it."

As Shadi had said would happen, in time Jou had found the strength to bear the sadness along with the joy that his visions brought. But bearing it had not made the gift easier to accept.

Now, even though he tried to push away the ghastly images, he saw again the terrible battle that had taken place here.

A cold knot formed low inside him and expanded until he shivered violently at the horror that unfolded before him-of two armies plunging headlong toward each other; the cold clash of steel blade against war ax and the painful screams and agonized cries of the dying; the dust that rose to engulf them; the overwhelming emotions of confusion, fear, hopelessness; and, in the aftermath, the bodies of both Saxon and Norman dead lying on the cold hard ground.

Hot tears slipped down his frozen cheeks as he stared out across the valley and saw the distant fires glowing eerily through the gloom of the mist and smoke.

Larger bonfires were scattered some distance apart. As the carts rumbled along toward them, he realized they were not bonfires but funeral pyres.

A creature born in fire and blood...

The crest Seto Kaiba carried on his shield was the image Jou had seen in his vision. He had no understanding of it then. But now he understood.

They rode on in painful silence. But Jou was aware that the gazes of the soldiers and knights who rode with them were also fixed on those distant fires.

They finally stopped before one of several large tents in the heart of the Norman encampment.

Seto dismounted, pulling Jou to the ground beside him. Several armed soldiers immediately appeared, making Katsuya aware this was an armed encampment.

"Bring your medicines," Seto commanded.

He strode ahead to draw aside the tent flap. Another armed soldier just inside the tent immediately appeared. A guard? The man glanced at Seto, recognized him and stepped aside. Malik Ishtar had dismounted his horse and walked beside Jou. Otogi had not followed them into camp, but had departed with his men as soon as they entered the valley. He was nowhere to be seen. And that worried Jounouchi.

Ryou Bakura and several of Seto's knights walked behind them, like an armed escort. Uneasiness slipped down the blonde's spine.

Beware my child.

The warning slipped across his senses as Jou untied the leather bundle from the saddle.

The bitter cold wind gusted inside the open flap as they entered the tent, stirring a fire in a brazier and guttering flames at several lamps. As the flap fell once more back into place, cutting off the intrusion of wind, the flames settled and glowed steadily once more.

There were several mail-clad, well-armed knights inside the tent. They ringed a raised cot, partially blocked from view by the phalanx of sword and armor.

"Milord." One of the young knights with tri-colored hair stepped forward and greeted Ryou Bakura. Jou saw the nod of acknowledgement that passed between the two young men and immediately sensed a bond of deep friendship.

They were of a near age, about 16, as were several others of the knights in the tent, except for one who was somewhat older then Kaiba. In this man, he sensed the wisdom and counsel of many years, many battles fought and deep, abiding loyalty. He sensed other things, but they were fleeting images.

Most of what he sensed was a great urgency-that same urgency had grown in him throughout the day as they rode closer to Hastings. And he knew it was for Yami of Normandy.

"Are we in time, Mai?" Seto asked a blonde girl who was near the cot.

The one called Mai nodded, her face taut. "He is alive," she said with solemn voice.

But hardly more, Jou sensed, in the woman's unspoken thoughts.

Seto glanced about at the heavily armed knights. His eyes narrowed as his gaze fastened on someone who stood behind one of the knights at the head of the cot.

"What is she doing here?" His voice was as cold as the steel of a blade. The knight moved aside, revealing another woman in the light of the oil lamps.

"Milord Kaiba," she greeted Seto with a silky voice.

The black-haired girl stepped forward, her manner aloof. She spoke in French and her kirtle was of the finest heavy satin. Jou had seen little of the encampment, but he hadn't seen any woman except for these two. It seemed odd now to find a blonde one who actually seemed to care about the situation and was dressed in a simple kirtle, and another who was dressed so finely in a military camp and acted as if she were royalty. Maybe the black-haired woman was the wife of the man that lay on the cot.

"I gave orders that one other then my men, Mai and the healer are to be allowed in here." Seto snapped.

"I am not yours to command," the woman reminded him as she stepped closer to the cot. "You have no authority over me. He asked for me. My place is with him."

Jou sensed the spasm of tension that moved through the tent. From the woman he sensed many things-the coldness of ambition, the heart of anger and passion and the traces of sensual, almost erotic memory that reached out to Seto Kaiba. Jou knew that in spite of the anger that seemed to leap between them, they had once been lovers. (Mid-S: FORGIVE ME FOR WRITING THAT!!! *cowers in fright of the angry readers* But it's for plot construction. Don't worry, she'll get what's coming to her. *grins evilly*) And Jou felt something almost like jealousy go through him, cutting him deeply like a knife. Why should he care about Kaiba? It was none of his business to who the man slept with.though he could have done better then *her*.

"It seems odd, milady, that one so grievously wounded and unconscious would have the strength to summon you," Seto responded coldly. He glanced to Mai, and Jou saw the woman's subtle shake of head, silently disavowing what the woman claimed.

"Remove her," Seto ordered. (3)

"You may not have me removed," she cried out. "My place is at his side!"

Seto turned with a deliberate slowness and again Jou was reminded of that earlier impression of a dangerous creature. His features were hard, forbidding; he was certain that icy gaze was capable of freezing one where they stood. For all her boldness the Norman lady indeed seemed wisely frozen where she stood.

"The only woman who may claim that privilege is his *wife*," he said in a quiet voice completely at odds with the scathing look he gave her. Then with a jerk of his head he signaled Ryou to have her removed.

"Take your hands off of me," she cried as Ryou turned to escort her from the tent. She wrenched her arm free of his grasp, wrapping her cloak about her as if it were the finest battle armor. She turned on Seto, her voice dripping with haughty disdain.

"I will leave, milord Kaiba. But I shall return when *he* asks it."

"He will not ask it," Seto assured her.

When she had gone, he turned to Mai. "Tell me everything that has happened."

"Nothing is amiss," the young woman assured him. "Now that you have returned."

Jou heard the qualification of her reply, but more, he sensed the girl's unspoken thoughts of some trouble that she chose for the time being to keep to herself. Seto sensed it as well. He nodded.

"We will speak of it later. There are more crucial matters here." He stripped away mail-covered gloves. The knights parted as he stepped to the cot.

"Christ's blood!" he said softly, but with a ferocity that turned Jou cold with apprehension, as Seto gazed down at the man who lay on the cot. Jou heard the undercurrent of emotion at his voice-anger laced with incredulity.

"How is it possible that he is even still alive?"

The man Jou glimpsed briefly as Seto knelt beside the cot lay wasted and emaciated, his skin a gray, bloodless color above bloodstained leather garments. Over the mournful howl of the wind that sent the loose edges of the tent flapping he heard the ragged breathing that was too rapid and too shallow. By Seto Kaiba's urgency, this wasted man could be no other then Yami of Normandy.

"Not Christ's blood," Mai informed him, her lips thinned with contempt, "but more of his own." She gestured to the stained blanket that lay beneath the injured man.

"Yesterday night," she explained, "I found the bishop and that butcher of a healer's apprentice bleeding him."

"Damn those bastards!" Seto cursed. "He has already lost enough blood for two men." He stood abruptly and called an order back through his men,

"Bring the boy."

Almost as one, the knights and soldiers filling the tent turned and stood apart. They were dressed in their bloodied and mud-caked battle armor, swords unsheathed and held at rest in their gloved hands. They toward over the blonde, their gazes by turn speculative, doubtful and fierce.

This was what his people had confronted. No matter how bravely they fought with their clubs, axes and sticks, they were no match for these well armed, professional soldiers whose sold purpose was war and death. With an ache of sadness so intense that it stilled his breath in his lungs, he knew the fates of the men of Naigai-indeed all of Saxon England-had been sealed before they ever met the Norman Army on the battlefield.

His vision had seen all and he had been powerless to stop it.

Jou realized Seto had against summoned him. He glanced up at the collective countenance of those fierce warriors turned toward him and experienced something of the emotion that Bakura's beleaguered Saxons had surely felt- raw, naked fear.

As he slowly walked toward the cot, he had a prescience of time moving out of itself, of events unfolding that he was being drawn into but could not yet see, much less prevent.

"I have a name," Jou said softly, yet firmly. Ice blue eyes glittered dangerously as Seto stared back at him; yet his voice was carefully restrained.

"Jounouchi Katsuya," he acknowledged. "Your skills are greatly needed by the one who lies here gravely wounded."

Jou approached the cot, through that gauntlet of fierce, heavily armed knights.

"I will do what I can. The rest is up to God."

"God has already done his part." Seto's tone was filled with unmistakable contempt, with no attempt to disguise what would seem to be blasphemy. And Jou wondered what might account for such coldness of heart in a man who had shown such compassion at Oaken Arvin.

"The rest is up to you and you will not fail."

Jou knelt by the cot and looked with pity upon the man who lay there, shrunken by fever and loss of blood. He seemed a skeleton already except for the pale skin that clung to his bones.

"Hold the lamp close," he told Seto. "I have to see what must be done."

There was another who stepped to the opposite side of the cot, the young knight Ryou Bakura. As Jou reached to draw back the side front of leather tunic that covered the injured man's chest, Ryou's hand closed over his wrist.

"If he dies," he warned, "I will personally see that your life is forfeit for his."

Through the contact of his hand clamped painfully about Jou's wrist, he sensed his own much deeper pain and the fierce, warring emotions that reflected in the taut, rigid expression at his face. The blonde sensed a deep, silent anger, an aching need for some long-denied friendship and the conflicting emotion of intense hatred, as if they fought each other within him.

He felt his inner pain with such an intensity and fierceness that Jou's heart ached.

"Let the boy help him, my young friend," Seto said beside Jou, his own hand lying gently, but with a firm restraint, on the younger man's shoulder. Still, Ryou Bakura didn't release him. Instead his fingers tightened about Jou's wrist.

Jou silently communicated to him with his thoughts, allowing him to feel his compassion and concern. The blonde felt his resistance, fighting him, pushing his thoughts back from his own. Ryou was a fierce warrior, but in his heart he sensed the greater fierceness of his friendship for the man who lay between them. Tears started to trickle down Ryou's cheeks, all the pain coming out from deep within his soul.

Trust me, Jou spoke silently to Ryou, willing him to feel the truth of his thoughts. I will not let him die. Jou sensed his emotional struggle as he tried to understand the thoughts that moved through his, as if someone had spoken. Eventually, he felt those fingers loosen about his wrist and, though they only left red marks at his skin, Jou felt no physical pain, only his deeper emotional pain. Finally, Ryou nodded and stepped back from the cot, but remained close enough, his hand at his broadsword as a silent warning. A few stray tears still slipped down his cheeks, but that was all.

Jou slowly rounded the cot, in turn lifting crudely made bandages that had been pressed against the wounds to stanch the flow of blood.

In most places the bleeding had stopped, leaving the bandages glued to the wound with the dried blood. At others, the wounds still seeped. The blonde wet them with water from a basin, gently easing them away from the torn flesh, examining wounds that were obvious to the eye. Though there were several, including a deep one at his side, none by itself threatened his life.

When he moved down the length of cot at the opposite side, Ryou impatiently blocked him, his expression challenging.

"Enough of this!" he growled. "He lies here dying while you take your time as if you were at a market. Get on with it!" (4)

"It is not yet enough," Jou told him gently but with authority of voice few would have dared. "I must know exactly how badly his is wounded if I am to help him." Behind him, he sensed movement.

"His skills are great," Seto told the young knight. "Allow him to do what must be done."

Jou looked over at him in surprise that he should speak so highly of him. What did Kaiba know of him except from rumors among Saxon peasants?

There was a moment of silent challenge between the two men. Then Ryou stepped once more out of Jou's way though he remained close.

The blonde moved past him, concentrating on the wounded man who lay before him, fingers moving along muscle, sinew and bone, seeing with that inner eye the wounds that were not obvious-two broken ribs and several bruises.

In good health Yami was no doubt a powerfully built man. (5) The bones were heavy and solid. Though sunken from fever and loss of blood, his features where extremely familiar to Jou. Tri-colored hair.where had he seen the same colors before? Then he thought back to the small boy who had greeted Ryou. Interesting.

Jou lifted the blanket that covered the lower half of Yami's body.and he saw something he wished he hadn't.

Though Yami's leg was laid out strait, the long lower leg bone was shattered, fragments piercing through the flesh. Like the others, a crude bandage had been placed over the wound. But little else had been done and maggots now crawled inside the torn flesh.

Jou shudder, feeling horribly nauseous. His hand trembled at the bandage with a mixture of horror and anger that he had been cared for so badly.

Seto Kaiba's hand closed over his with surprising gentleness. The warm strength in those fingers flowed through the contact of skin on skin, stunning the blonde.

"Do what must be done." "He is dangerously close to death," Jou said softly. "The loss of so much blood." He did not say the rest for it was dangerous to speak out against the others.

The fingers tightened over his wrist. "What can I do to help you?"

"I must have more light and it must be warmer in here. He has a fever that may just as easily take him as the wounds. All drafts must be sealed. Then I will need more blankets, hot water, fresh bandages and a very sharp knife."

The brunette hesitated at the last request, then nodded as he turned and gave orders for the bottom edges of the tent sides to be buried and the opening sealed off.

More braziers and fuel were summoned, along with another basin of hot water set to simmering, heavy furs and clean bandages. Seto handed him his own blade, which Jou laid across the coals that glowed at the bottom of a brazier.

Yami's tunic, breeches and boots were removed, the furs laid over the upper part of his body and his uninjured leg.

Jou sprinkled crushed leaves over the simmering basin. A bittersweet fragrance spiraled steamily in the air. Three more braziers appeared, their fires stocked high to give more light and more warmth.

Outside the tent Jou heard the sound of blades striking the earth as trenches were dug and the edges of the tent buried all around to seal out drafts of air and seal in the heat. A thick carpet on the earthen floor was rolled and carried outside where it was hung over the entrance.

He set two more small bowls on the braziers. Water was added to one and soon simmered. A white powder was added to the other and the mixture turned golden brown on the heat. He removed Seto's blade from the coals.

"The flesh decays," he explained. "In order for these wounds to heal, the dead flesh must be removed. He sleeps now because of the fever, but may still feel the pain. There is a potion I can give for the pain, but it wears off very quickly. It must be saved for his leg."

Kaiba nodded as he moved to stand at Yami's head prepared to hold him down if necessary. One of his knights moved to stand at each side. This was something all warriors understood.

At Seto's nod he worked quickly, deftly removing the putrefied flesh from wounds that had festered, all the while silently cursing the fool who had ordered that Yami be bled as a means of saving his life.

Bloody barbarians! He thought. Have they no common sense about the way of wounds?

It was an agonizingly slow and painful process. Each wound needed to be cleaned of debris and filth, the decayed flesh removed. Then he spread each with a salve mixed from one of the bowls and bandaged then with clean linen. He was bound about the waist with lengths of linen to aid the broken ribs in healing.

Excruciating pain roused Yami from the stupor of fever. Weak as he was, he would have been too strong for the blonde and it would have been impossible to continue had Seto and his men not held him down.

Cold sweat sheened across his body and poured off him. His skin took on an even deadlier pallor, his eyes glazed with pain, fever and delirium.

Jou worked quickly. Three times he called for more water to clean the wounds. His back and arms ached. The heat in the tent added to his tension. Perspiration beaded across his forehead, dampening tendrils of hair that he wiped back with a bloodied hand. When he sagged with exhaustion, he felt Seto Kaiba's unspoken support in the touch of a hand.

Finally, he straightened, pressing a hand into the small of his back where a dull ache had set in from bending over the cot. The smaller wounds had all been cleaned and bandaged. The worst he had saved for last-the badly maimed and shattered leg. Into a tankard, he poured a portion of the sweet- smelling brew that had been simmering over a brazier.

"He is very weak, but the leg must be mended. He must drink as much of this as possible or he will never survive the pain." (6)

He saw the uneasiness that passed from one man to the other. They understood the need for bandaging wounds. But drinking unknown potions was another matter. All too well, he understood their concern. The war to conquer England-everything depended on the man who lay on the cot. He must live. And Jou was a Saxon healer who had every reason to hate him and wish him dead.

"If I wanted to do him harm," he said logically, "would I have gone to so much trouble first?"

Malik reached out and seized the tankard. "I will drink from it first," he declared.

Jou saw the look that passed between him and Ryou. If the potion were poisoned, Malik would fall from it and he would be put to death. All waited for Jou to stop him.

He didn't, but instead nodded. "You will experience a very pleasant feeling of warmth. Eventually you will not be able to move your arms of legs. The potion blocks out feeling; therefore, it also blocks out the pain."

Malik nodded and took several swallows of the faintly sweet liquid.

After a moment, he leaned unsteadily against the cot, but his expression was no less fierce then before, his grasp of words or thought no less clear.

"Do what must be done."

It was a slow, painstaking process, but finally, with Seto's help, Jou poured the contents past Yami's pale, slack lips and persuaded him to swallow.

From their previous reaction to the pain potion, the blonde sensed the answer for what he must now ask, but it was necessary. He set the tankard aside and turned to Seto Kaiba.

"For what must be done next, you must trust me. I must be alone with him."

Mai's reaction was immediate as she stepped in front of Jou, blocking him from Yami.

"What treachery is this?" She demanded. "Do you think you have gained our trust by the test of your potion?"

Jou was startled by the girl's sudden outburst. He sensed her thoughts and realized how long she had known Yami, and how much she obviously cared about him. It was wonderful that she did, but he couldn't afford this, not with Yami dying slowly with each passing second.

"No matter his skills, he is still Saxon," she argued. "The bodies of the Norman dead lie in yonder graves. You cannot allow what he asks. I do not trust him. What is it that must be done that we cannot see?"

Jou saw the contemplation that settled in Seto Kaiba's cool gray gaze and heard the sounds of other weapons being drawn from their sheaths.

Imploringly, Jou cast his thoughts out to the brunette as he had with Ryou Bakura, desperate to make him understand, to bend his will to his own. But he discovered he could not. Seto was not like the others who might be persuaded by his thoughts.

"Please," he begged. "He is dying. It's a small thing I ask." Somehow he had to make him understand, for no one, not even Serenity, had seen what he must do. Jou appealed to the brunette's honor as a knight sworn by an oath to the very man who lay so gravely injured.

"The healing ways are ancient and known to only a few," he went on to explain. "They have been entrusted to me with a sacred vow. Surely you understand that I cannot break a covenant of trust." he laid his hand on Seto's imploringly. "You must not ask it of me."

As a healer, Jou had touched people hundreds of times. Physical contact soothed and gentled. But he gasped at the intensity of touching Seto Kaiba. As Jou put his hand on top of the brunette's, he felt a strange, raw, sensual power. Kaiba's hand closed over his. As if with a will of its own, his hand opened to the sensual heat of Seto's touch, unleashing sensations that were stunning and terrifying.

****

"Can't you see her treachery?" Mai demanded, her features twisted with anger, pain and fear.

"I will not allow him to be alone with Yami!" she turned to Jou. "You will do what must be done, healer. And *none* of us will leave."

Jou was getting annoyed. He could not reach Seto, he thought in despair, but he might be able to reach this young, reckless girl whose *cousin*-whom Jou sensed she both loved and hated-lay dying.

With a lowered voice that only Mai and those standing immediately about her might hear, he told her with the certainty of all her powers, "If you wish your *cousin* to live, you must do as I ask. If you do not, then his death will be on your hands."

Stunned surprise leapt into her eyes that he knew Yami was her cousin, then her questioning gaze turned to Seto.

"I told him nothing," Seto assured her. When she looked back at Jou, Mai's expression was tormented and suspicious.

"What treachery is this, Saxon?" She demanded. "I could strike you down where you stand!" She whispered fiercely.

"Yes," Jou said calmly, "and then he will surely die. The choice is yours." He saw that his words where not lost on Kaiba, for the brunette had given him much the same sort of choice about the people of Naigai.

Finally, Mai sighed defeated. "So be it. But if he dies," she added, her eyes flashing dangerously, "you will quickly follow."

As a warrior, Seto had experienced many wounds and relied on the dubious talents of healers, many of them butchers who learned their trade flaying fowl or butchering pigs.

A few among them, in the Eastern Empire, were healers of rare skill, whose knowledge and ability was very near miraculous. This young man's skills were not merely that of mixing powders and potions. He understood the body's healing ways and skillful surgical techniques that rivaled those of the ancient Egyptians.

"I brought the healer," Seto said for all to hear, his decision made. "The responsibility for what passes here rests with me." (7)

His decision made, he announced, "Two of us will remain. The rest will leave." He nodded to Malik.

"Surely puerulus," he said to the blonde, "you understand a vow of honor cannot be broken."

Jou felt helplessness wash over him. He could not persuade this fierce Norman warrior to leave. There was no choice and there was no more time, for even now he felt Yami's life ebb.

"Alright." Jou reluctantly agreed. He could not prevent his staying, but perhaps he could prevent his remembering.

The expressions on Ryou and Mai's faces was filled with a turbulence of emotions. They did not want to leave, but they have given their word.

"We will wait outside with the rest of your men." Ryou told Seto. His gave rested briefly on Jou, then he and the others turned and left the tent. The heavy tapestry whispered into place after them.

Jou moved back to the cot, trying to sort through his own emotions. Malik stood at the other side, his hand resting lightly on the handle of his blade. Seto stood beside him.

This was going to take a while.

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(1): A thane is 'a man ranking above an ordinary freeman and below a nobleman'.

(2): Latin for 'small one'

(3): Go Seto-kun! You put that bitch in her place! ^_^

(4): Okay, so Ryou's a little angry.^^; But it is the Medieval times people and soldier's need some backbone.

(5): Yami? Powerfully built? Oo; What was *I* high on? lol.

(6): That's encouraging. -_-;

(7): Anyone sense a little love except for moi? ^_~

Mid-S: Okies people.I can't type anymore. Too sick. X_X *coughs*

The reason why I put Isis as Seto's lover was because if I used Tea, it would have made me puke. This couple makes me puke anyway, but like I said, it's for 'plot construction'.

YMS: In other words, she's too stupid and sick to think of anything better.

Mid-S: Yami, shut...shut...*passes out* X_X

YMS: -_- R&R please.