Chapter 5 - You Can't Forbid Love
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Kiriel made her slow way around the paper littered hallways of Meshal College, her fingers closed around the leather-woven hilt of the sword. As she walked, numb with shock from her injuries, she only just then recalled how the weapon had come into her possession.
She had woken in the night from a sound from the neighboring south dormitory, and slipped out into the dimly lit corridors to see what it was. The uncharacteristic chill that filled the College was the first thing she felt out of ordinary. (Meshal College, located in Southern Tarbina, was reknowned for its fiercely humid tropical climate on the tip of Old World continent. Nothing below the temperature of the water ever touched the constantly green leaves, the heat saturated streets with their fruits and venders.)
As she moved toward the dormitory entrance she froze at the sound of footsteps behind her. She'd spun around at once to face the intruder, her fingers twitching to cast magic and stared at the face that confronted her.
It was a man, his eyes glowing the fiercest blue-green. Kiriel knew at once this man was not natural, but he was a man. He carried another man in his arms, who appeared unconscious. The man who carried him wore a long black coat that hung nearly completely to the floor, ripped in countless places. He was tall, his face wane with dark circles under his eyes. His silver hair was held back in a tangled pony tail with a few soaking dreadlocks of bangs falling across his face.
He bore the weight of the man and their soaking bags boldly, but by the look of him he appeared to be no more willing to put up a fight than he was to start running. Their gazes held for more than a second before she heard something hissing from behind, beyond her shoulder.
She dodged barely in time, crying out a deflection spell as her silk pants slid against the marble, sliding until she could touch the stranger's boots. She stole a breath before chaos swept like hellfire just above her head. She smelled lightning, fire, smoke and ash. The screaming of the other girls brought her to attention. They were safe for now. These strangers needed her help, outlandish or not. The Code of Meshal said clearly that anyone in need of help deserved it, be they for good or for ill.
The man lowered himself carefully to his knees, setting the unresponsive one behind him. Then he slid the two water-logged bags from his shoulders alongside his companion, before he drew a sword from a scabbard at his side. It was almost as tall as she was, perhaps taller, but he drew it cleanly and stood again, leaving bags and man behind.
Kiriel raised her eyes to see what had attacked her, and choked back a sob of despair. A thing of blackness, in the rough shape of a man, stood with cold eyes of fire. Its arms crackled with magic, and Kiriel percieved magic from the silver-haired stranger as well. His body was strong, stood solidly and calmly. No longer unbalanced by the weight of his burdens, he now convinced Kiriel that in battle, he was a formidable fighter.
"This is no fight of yours," the man said.
Kiriel knew he was talking to her. She didn't want to back down, but she backed off slightly, and lowered her voice, already magic tingling over her tongue, the spells hot in her mind. "Do you think I care about that...? If this continues much longer, I won't have to get up for my classes tomorrow morning!"
"If you don't get out of the way," he returned sharply, "you won't be getting up at all. Get your ass back into the dormitories. This creature is after *me*, and will stop at nothing to get me. And him." His eyes twisted down to give her a stare, then flickered toward the unconscious man. Such the stare was that Kiriel whimpered slightly.
"You're a fool," she hissed as she closed her fists, swallowing her magic and slipping back through the doors of her own dormitory. She ignored the shrieking dorm-girls and ran past through another set of doors, skidding on her bare feet. Her destination was the Magi's office to fetch the only teacher she liked and trusted - Madam Analyn.
She stumbled into her office, stopping once only to get used to the heady smell of spices, magic, and incense.
"Madam Analyn?" she called uncertainly, moving behind the empty desk with its odd jars, twigs and stones and parchments. "Madam Analyn, where *are* you?"
She didn't find her teacher. Instead she found the sword, hidden in a partially opened trunk hidden in the corner of the room. She saw the long emerald green scabbard, its pommel jutting out crookedly from the corner.
Without thinking, she pulled it out, felt its weight change to accomodate her strength, and she ran back toward the hallways where she heard a terrible, thunderous explosion. She gasped, the sword humming in her grasp as it shrieked to be used to defend her. Almost clearly she heards its bell-like voice speaking to her. (You are in danger! Use your magic! Protect yourself!)
She was dimly aware of the College alarms going off, and bit her cheek to keep from screaming at the sudden chill that fought to freeze her limbs into mock rigor-mortis. And then--
The shadow creature faced her. Sticky red blood trickled from a wounded right rib, but he only seemed exhausted rather than critically injured. Kiriel brandished the sword, trying to remember the sword lessons she had struggled with Swordmaster Fayed. Too late, the shadow creature lunged, toothless maw gaping into a tunnel of eternal black...
Fear paralyzed her. Spells vanished from her will, escaping her memory and leaving her helpless. The resulting explosion as she lifted the sword to block the beast knocked her several feet back, where she lost consciousness for several seconds.
When she awoke, the demon, the strange men, even the bags were gone.
Kiriel felt her brow again, and her blood had gone sticky by now. Her head was pounding, and the cold had left her almost completely frozen now. But she forced her quivering legs to move and walked down the ruined corridors, hearing the distant cries of the terrified.
A teacher ran down the halls, black robes swirling, rushed down the hallway toward her. She pretended not to see him and continued walking, her fingers wound ever tightly against the sword that she could not bring herself to release.
It was the teacher of Black magic, Magi Kessil, who stopped and reached to clutch her arm and turn her about. He had black hair, dark emerald green eyes blazing from a handsome, though harsh face.
"What are you doing? Why do you have that sword?!" Magi Kessil demanded, shaking her again as her knees started to buckle. Yet her hand still did not release the weapon, which seemed to hum very slightly in her grasp.
"I...I-I was trying to--" she wheezed, when she saw Madam Analyn hurrying in her light violet robes toward the pair.
The white magi turned to give a cold stare to Kessil, who stared back but released the girl's arm. "She's not to be tampered with, Kessil. I am afraid the sword has taken to her. There is no turning back now. Its spirit is intertwining with hers, and whatever that black creature was, it has fled the college grounds and will not be seen again."
Kiriel's world spun. The words jumbled together, and they spoke over her head as though she did not exist. At the moment, she didn't feel she really existed at all. The only voice she could hear was the one softly chanting in her thoughts, a cold, calculating chant. It was irresistible, drawing her into slumber where she did not want to go.
Her mouth struggled to form the words; she couldn't use her voice, for it was just as frozen as the rest of her. Why in the hell weren't they listening to her?
Then the blackness came.
* * * * *
Outside, the sun shone as brightly as ever. Classes continued, although some subjects had to be taken outside in the college gardens. Guard watches were divided up among the Black adept, as well as some of the White who could afford to use some of their powers to heal those who had been injured. Damage had been minimum, but the wreckage of the classrooms prevented any normal sort of scheduling.
A rough sketch had been written up, and magically projected in every toiletry and every corner to direct students toward their relocated classrooms. It was confusing, but few complaints were made for conditions could have been much worse.
Kiriel spent the rest of her day in the infirmery, nursing the bump on her head and the awful curiousity she felt whenever her head stopped pounding long enough to let her think.
Where had that man gone...? Did he die? Did he escape, and if so did he or didn't he destroy that monster?
"Madam Sirril!" she called plaintively from her bed, raising her hand instinctively as though she were in a classroom. She tried to sound as needy and innocent as possible to gain as much attention, but not too weak to sound delirious.
The nurse, clad in the same violet robes with the addition of a small gleaming gem that clasped her cloak together, came round to her and bent to check her wound.
"They said there was a black monster on the grounds," Kiriel began but was interrupted when a boy suddenly cried out in pain and yanked the attention of the nurse back away.
The young woman sighed and leaned back against her pillows. Irritated, she pulled a face and closed her eyes, her jaw firm. If she had to, she would uncover this mystery herself.
Suddenly, her greenish eyes shot open and flashed toward her hand. She stared at it, as though she'd never seen it before. She saw her fingers curling around the blackened hilt as though her hand acted of its own accord. She shivered slightly as she watched, and then pulled the sword up to her chest. The blade was safe in its scabbard now, and she could have sworn she heard it humming softly inside like a contented feline.
Maybe this sword would help her...whatever it was. If someone ever provided the answers she needed. The thought of losing it, to her alarm, seemed the most catastrophic thing to have ever crossed her mind. She gasped and clutched it tight with both hands now, and stared at the door, impending doom fading as Madam Analyn entered the infirmiry.
She seemed to sigh softly, pity in her eyes as she gazed at Kiriel. "How are you feeling, young one?" she asked softly, sitting on a stool provided by the bunk. "That was a very irresponsible thing you did, but courageous."
"Madam Analyn, what happened to that monster?"
"It's gone, Kiriel. Forget about it. There are other Magi to worry about it now."
Kiriel sighed, rubbing her forehead, and taking a breath, asked, "Please tell me if you saw two men... one of them was unconscious, and the other was carrying him... did you see them? They have silver-white hair--"
"I'm afraid not... if anyone saw anybody, I doubt it. Everyone was hiding in the classrooms or the dormitories while the chaos was going on. And YOU, my dear, were out there foolishly trying to fight it."
"What...what *was* it...?"
"I don't know, Kiriel... it was a creature of darkness... I've never encountered its like before. And that sword--" Madam Analyn motioned toward. "--was what protected you for becoming the walking dead. I suggest you hold onto it... well, I suppose that wouldn't make sense. You can't really let go of it anyway. It has chosen you."
Chosen...?
Kiriel looked away, feeling herself growing more and more frustrated. No answers... no nothing.
She *would* have to do this by herself... with... or without the damned sword.
* * * * *
Ansem woke to find himself by a warm, crackling fire. And, all at once, his senses were on fire with awareness.
He sat up instantly, hyperventilating for several long seconds, smelling the scent of burning wood, of crisp, clean river water and fish, of green leaves. Fresh air... He tilted his head back toward the sky, which was tinged the most beautiful orange-pink he had ever seen, bespeckled with glittering, bright and alien stars.
He breathed a slow sigh, trying to calm down, when he felt a hand rest heavily on his shoulder. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Ansem turned, at first unrecognizing of the man who sat beside him on the bedroll, cross-legged and calm. Yet the sharp sweep of his jaw, the set of his jade green eyes, glowing brightly from a handsome face. Such a face, framed by straight silver bangs, struck a deep chord of familiarity inside of him.
"Sephiroth," Ansem breathed hoarsely, like a prayer. And his lips at once remembered a distant memory of a kiss. He withdrew slightly, suddenly uncomfortable, drawing the blanket tight around his shoulders.
Sephiroth dropped his hand down again, frowning as he looked away. He gazed into the vast forest, a wall of green and brown and shadow that surrounded them. "I was worried you would never wake up. We are free of the rain now, Ansem. Imagine my relief when I arrived at that circle of standing stones... someone spoke to me in my mind...it said-- Hm. I have forgotten...." He smiled ruefully, brushed a piece of hair out of his face and looked at Ansem again.
Ansem looked back, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He felt a thrill as Sephiroth reached out, gently touching his face, brushing his thumb delicately under his eyes, helping rid him of the sleep from his eyes. The deep, concentrating gaze never leave Ansem's face.
"Do you remember?" Sephiroth questioned softly, concern and despair in his voice. His hand remained against his cheek, captured his jaw firmly in his grasp to turn his face toward his.
Ansem was numb with shock... remember what? He wasn't sure anymore... But that touch certainly felt good... warm and welcome from the throbbing memory of cold...
Calmly, the other man scooted forward, resting his hand against his shoulder slightly as he pulled himself forward. Ansem started to protest when he merely pushed the blanket aside, and pressed a hand against his chest - Ansem nearly barked with pain.
"It's alright," Sephiroth said quickly. "You were injured... unfortunately, I woke up to find us trapped inside some sort of school. I had to escape... narrowly. A monster must have followed us. He injured you somehow..." He pressed his lips together slightly as he brushed his fingers, feather-light, over the tender layer of flesh that had begun to cover the burnt skin.
Ansem still breathed deeply, but it calmed him, this light feather touch. His eyes fell to his lap, and he brought his hands up to take Sephiroth's. His memory of past events came trickling back, threatening floodwaters to overtake him... and moved forward quickly, wrapping his arms around Sephiroth.
"I don't know... no more rain..." He sobbed, talking incoherently as Sephiroth stroked his naked lower back. The closeness was dizzying, but Sephiroth soon found himself fighting hot tears himself. He certainly did not blame Ansem for his odd behavior... it was difficult, to have dealt with something so long and then have it suddenly gone. To not worry about it anymore...
Ansem embraced him tightly, pressing his lips against his jawline. He kissed his skin fervently, again and again... he wanted to taste him, felt so blessedly free and awake now that he thought he would never sleep again. "Sephiroth," he moaned softly, twisting against the hand that stroked his back. "Oh my god..."
His jade-eyed lover started to tremble slightly, reaching to gently take hold of his jaw and pull him down, staring him straight into his eye. "Don't... you've barely eaten... you have to eat." He rested his free hand against his hip, and pushed him back. Then he reached toward the fire, and plucked a piece of something that looked like meat from a wooden bowl. He did not ask him where he got it, but Ansem did finally take it and eat.
He had eaten six pieces of meat in ten minutes. Sephiroth left him alone, having scooted back onto his own bedroll, staring off into the distance.
"Why did you deny me?" Ansem asked, glaring at him. "No one denies me, Sephiroth. No one."
"I didn't," Sephiroth answered. "I post-poned it... I found it more important that you eat first. You are but a waif since we've arrived in this world."
"Hmph..." But Ansem hardly minded. He continued to stare at him, felt the chill coolness of the night on his bare arms, and once again pulled the blanket around his shoulders. He rubbed the tender skin on his chest, before he crawled free of his bedroll and inched forward. "Will you postpone again, if I try?"
Sephiroth swerved his eyes toward him. Amusement, perhaps? "Go ahead and see."
But somehow Ansem didn't quite try. He pressed tight, closed his mouth over his shoulder for a few seconds, shuddering awkwardly before he pulled free, and simply sat close to him for the rest of the night.