Part 7 – When Nightmares Become Reality
The sorceress entered her chamber with an annoyed look on
her face -or perhaps it was the way she always looked. At the swift motion of
her right hand several candles in the room flickered to life. She jerked around
when she felt a presence and noticed a slight movement to her right. Bluish
sparks danced around her hands. She was ready to kill whoever had dared to
enter her room. At the last moment however she recognized the intruder, and the
bolt of energy hit the wall just inches above his head.
"Don't ever do that again," she snapped. "Not unless you are
trying to get yourself killed."
The black-clad man gave her a smooth grin. "I'm glad to see you too, Sister
Dearest. Though, I thought for sure that I would be addressing you as Empress
by now."
Her face darkened even more. "Tubarov isn't quite ready yet to take that step."
"Perhaps he is just smart enough to realize that the day he marries you will be
the day he signs his own death sentence." The man replied, as he settled down
in one of the high-backed armchairs.
She turned and glared at him furiously. "Ysard, you might be
my brother, but make no mistake. Push me too far and I'll kill you."
Ysard raised one eyebrow in amusement. "Do you really think threatening the
person you need help from is such a good idea?"
"What makes you think I need your help?" she snapped irritated.
His expressions became even more amused. "You don't want to tell me that you sent for me just so we can catch up on old times or strengthen the family bond, do you?"
"You have always been straightforward, haven't you?" The
sorceress snorted. Her anger subsided slowly. She stepped over to a table by
the fireplace, filled two goblets with dark red wine and offered one of them to
her brother. Her own glass in hand, she took a seat across from him. "Are you
still doing your usual line of work?"
"Hunting?" he asked.
"I meant bounty collection, you know that very well."
He smirked again. "But Sister, of course I do. Don't you know that human prey
is the most challenging of them all? And I'm always up for a good challenge."
"Good. I hope you are as good as they say. This boy might be more of a
challenge than even you can handle?"
"Try me!" He smiled complacent. "Did you say a boy? Is he good looking?"
"Does your mind always work in just one direction?" She asked with an annoyed
snort.
He looked at her amused. "A man's got to have some kind of a
hobby. Being allowed to stake claim on that boy before turning him over to you
would be a nice incentive, you know."
Now Yvonne looked truly disgusted.
"Do whatever you want with him. But keep in mind that I need him alive and not
permanently harmed. And please spare me your perverted details," she spat.
He merely laughed as he took a
sip from his wine.
"I'll have a servant show you to one of the guestrooms. We can talk about all
the details tomorrow morning," his sister told him. "I'll have to go now.
Tubarov is expecting me."
"He is expecting you at this time of night? And where would that be; in his
bedchamber? And you are calling me perverted." He laughed even harder,
not the least intimidated by the deadly glare she gave him. He knew he was safe
as long as she needed him.
He watched as she left the room without another word.
***
King Stephán and Captain Treize watched as the crown prince, accompanied by Lord Yuy and an escort of fifteen guards, left the Royal Palace. The small group was heading for Hedinbourgh Castle, one of the royal family's smaller estates, where the prince would tend to some state affairs. It was the first time that Milliardo was expected to make decisions regarding the county and the kingdom on his own, even if they were relatively minor decisions.
Once the castle's outer gate had closed behind the riders, the king turned to the captain.
"This might seem kind of strange, Treize. For the past few
years I have hoped and prayed for Milliardo finally to grow up. But now I think
I'm not quite ready for it."
"I can understand that, your Highness." Treize
replied. "I don't think anybody is ever ready for his children to grow up. But
you are correct; Milliardo has become a mature young man. Still, I feel like I
should be the one escorting them not Lieutenant Otto."
"What's the problem? Not enough confidence in your second's abilities?"
Treize shook his head. "No, that's not it. I would trust
Otto with my own life. But I still would feel better if you would have let
Wufei or myself accompany Prince Milliardo to Hedinbourgh."
"I'm sure you would," Stephán replied. "But I need you and Wufei to escort
Relena to Oakwood County
in a few days."
Treize's expression turned dark in an instant and the king added. "I know, I know. Dermail is one of those people who would smile into your face while planning your assassination. But I don't think it is right to hold that against his niece. Besides, Relena has been asking me for so long now to let her visit Dorothy that I quite frankly ran out of reasons to say no."
"Don't worry, your Highness, Dermail would not dare to do anything while Wufei and myself are around," the captain reassured the king.
"That's what I'm counting on."
***
Prince Milliardo and his escort had spent the first night at a tavern near the main road to Hedinbourgh. They left the inn early in the morning. If everything went as planned, they should reach their goal within three days.
Hedinbourgh was a small but heavily fortified castle, designed as a place of refuge for the royal family during times of war. Milliardo had many fond memories of childhood fun and mischief about the place.
The group was approaching the Wind River, when one of the scouts returned and reported that the bridge that they had planed on crossing no longer existed.
"How can it be gone?" Lieutenant Otto asked.
"I'm not sure Lieutenant. All what's left are the support beams. Perhaps it got destroyed and swept away during the last storm."
Otto nodded thoughtfully. That was a possibility.
"Do you think we will be able to swim across the river?" Prince Milliardo asked.
The Lieutenant shook his head. "Not around here. The river is
too deep and the current too strong. The packhorses would never make it
through. We will have to find another bridge and change our route accordingly."
Otto turned to face his men. "We will be resting here," he announced.
As the group dismounted and the soldiers took care of the horses, the
Lieutenant, Heero and Prince Milliardo gathered around a large map.
"It looks like we have two options." Otto said. "We could head north and cross
the river near Helmsboro, that's about 30 miles from
here. Or we could use a bridge that's about here." He pointed at a spot on the
map south from where they were now.
"It looks to me like that one is a lot closer," Prince Milliardo remarked.
"True," Heero agreed. "But that road will take us right into Beechwick Forest. Keep in mind we will be very close to the border with Crownwood."
"I realize that," the Lieutenant spoke. "But it would save us about half a day if we head south."
"What about safety?" the young lord objected. "I think it is
more important to keep the prince save than to make it to make it to
Hedinbourgh on time."
Otto's eyebrow's narrowed. "With all due respect, my Lord; are you suggesting
I'm not doing my job?"
"It's not my place to judge that." Heero answered tactfully.
"Easy Heero, I'm sure the Lieutenant knows what he is doing." Milliardo intervened. "Let's just try to relax and enjoy the trip, shall we."
"Very well," Heero nodded.
A short time later the group continued their journey. Although it was past harvest time, it had been unusually hot for the past weeks. By noon horses and riders were exhausted from the heat and everybody, including Heero, welcomed the shade and refreshing coolness of the forest.
The atmosphere was almost tranquilizing. A dense canopy of
treetops filtered out the sunlight and draped the woods in dim light. The air
was filled with the sweet smell of wildflowers and berries. The soft forest
flooring muffled even the sounds of the horses' hoofs. Yet, something was
amiss. Lt. Otto wasn't quite sure what it was though.
Oh great, I'm letting Lord Yuy's paranoia get to me, he thought when it
suddenly hit him. It was too quiet. Not even a single bird was singing,
although the forest should be full of them. Just as Otto turned his head to
warm his men all hell broke loose.
The whining sound of arrows flying through the air mixed with the screams of
wounded men. Three royal guards plunged to the ground. The others brought up
their shields in an instant and surrounded the prince.
Unable to tell how many attackers were waiting for them, the only way out was
to withdraw. But before they could even turn around several riders in gray
battle armor blocked their way of retreat. Determined to break through, Otto
pulled his weapon and charged the soldier closest to him. Following his
example, Heero ran another of the attackers through with his sword. Within
moments the forest was filled with the sounds of metal hitting metal, cries of
pain, and the smell of death. Lieutenant Otto slashed at anything in his way,
as he pushed his horse forward, trying to create a passage for the prince to
escape. As he turned his head he saw Milliardo trying to fend off two
attackers, while a third man attempted to get a hold of his horse. He hurried
to the prince's aid and he took out one of the soldiers. Milliardo had already
taken care of the other two.
"Stay close beside me, your Highness. We need to get you out of here," he
yelled against the noise of the battle.
Milliardo nodded silently; too shocked to speak, too shocked even to think.
Treize had talked about how brutal battles could be, but he had never imagined
something like this.
Suddenly the prince was pushed forward so unexpectedly that he almost fell off his mount. Something soared over his head, missing him by mere inches. There was a gurgling sound and something warm and wet hit his left side. As he jerked his head around, he watched Otto sliding off his horse. In horror he realized that the man had been struck in the throat by an arrow; the same arrow he was able to protect Milliardo from.
The prince wiped the lieutenant's blood off his face, and
fought against the urge to vomit. The battle wasn't over. With a worried look
he searched for Heero. He was relieved to find him and a handful of his guards
fighting just a few yards to the right of him. By now Milliardo was running
purely on adrenaline. He pushed his mount forward into a group of attackers,
and raised his sword. With one powerful strike he decapitated one of the
soldiers, then run another one through with his
weapon. Just as he brought up his sword again an arrow hit his mount in the
chest. The stallion reared up and collapsed, almost burying his rider beneath
him. Milliardo was thrown on his back hard. The impact knocked the wind out of
him and stunned him for a moment. He closed his eyes against the pain and
dizziness in his head. Suddenly cold metal was pressed against his throat. As
his eyes flew open in shock, he found himself staring at a black-haired man,
who was unlike the other attackers dressed in dark leather.
"Stop the fighting," the man yelled. "Lower your weapons now or he dies."
The noise of the battle ceased immediately.
"Get up!" The dark clad man ordered. He pulled his weapon back just enough for
Milliardo to comply. At the man's gesture two of his soldiers seized the
prince's arms. "The rest of you drop your weapons."
Milliardo took long, even breaths and forced himself to calm down. He wanted
nothing more than to charge the man who seemed to be the leader here. But he
knew that would be certain suicide. All the prince could do was to watch the
remaining royal guards discard their weapons. Heero hesitated one moment,
probably trying to find some way out of this. But when the man pressed the
blade of his sword harder against the prince's neck the young lord complied as
well.
"Good choice," Ysard Catorce told Heero who was glaring daggers at him.
The man took a long look around. There was not as much as a hint of emotion in his voice told his men as he ordered. "Tie up those two." He pointed at Heero and Milliardo. "Kill anybody else who is still alive."
"No!" Milliardo cried out. He suddenly exploded and tried to shake off the two soldiers restraining him.
"Fool," Ysard spat as he raised his sword and struck the hard enough with the hilt at the side of his head to knock him unconscious.
A least that way Milliardo was spared from having to watch
his loyal guards being slaughtered.
While the soldiers finished their gruesome work, the black-haired man tied up
Milliardo. Before he mounted his black stallion he threw the limp body across
his packhorse. He gestured at Heero. "Make sure this one is still alive when
you deliver him to my sister. And be careful." he warned. "He looks like
trouble."
"Don't worry, Lord Ysard", one of the soldiers answered with an evil grin. "He
will be no trouble for us."
"Excellent. Tell my sister that I took my "reward", and I'm delighted to have
done business with her."
***
Trowa and Duo watched as a group of about 30 soldiers, clad
in gray uniforms, entered the walls of Whitewater
Castle.
Duo frowned. "I don't think I have ever seen those colors before?"
"They are the Emperor's men." Trowa explained; "his special elite troops. I've
seen them before, guarding him."
"What do they want here?" the braided boy wondered.
The prince shrugged. "They are probably just getting some
rest for their horses and themselves. I wonder where they came from." Then with
another gaze at the soldiers who were now dismounting in the castle's yard, he
added. "Looks like they have a prisoner with them?"
When Duo followed his eyes he saw what Trowa was talking about. His eyes
narrowed in anger as we watched as one of the soldiers pulled a bound figure
off one of the horses. The soldier kicked the prisoner as he fell to the
ground.
"Bastards," Duo growled. He left the prince's site and walked
over to the captive. When he came closer Dup realized that the prisoner was
barely older than he and Trowa. He looked like he was at the end of his
strength. His hands were shackled together behind his back with heavy chains.
Another chain, leading from his wrists around his neck, made sure that he would
strangle himself in any attempt to struggle against his restraints. The dark
haired boy was sitting with his back against the stable, knees pulled against
his chest and his head resting on his knees. His breathing was strained and
pained. His garments were torn and bloodied. Duo could tell that he had been
badly beaten.
The braided boy felt cold anger spreading through his body. He could
still how the people of his village, or those who had survived the attack, had
been rounded up, beaten and chained up to be taken into slavery. He had
thought; hoped, those memories would fade in time, but seeing this boy bound
and beaten had brought them back clear and crisp.
Once the soldiers had taken care of their horses they left
to tend to their own needs, but none of them bothered to bring their captive
anything to eat or drink.
Duo fetched a canteen of cool water and walked over to the prisoner. The boy's
head jerked up and his eyes flew open when Duo touched him. He must have been
sleeping or dozing. He glared angrily at the braided boy and Duo couldn't help
but notice the intense color of those blue eyes. He could not remember ever
seeing eyes like that before.
"Relax," he told the boy softly. "I'm not your enemy. You've got to be
thirsty."
When Duo set the bottle against the boy's bruised lips the boy didn't resist.
He threw back his head and drank in big gulps. But before he was able to fully
quench his thirst, the canteen was suddenly knocked out of Duo's hand.
"What do you think you are doing?" The soldier, who had just
entered the yard, glared at Duo furiously. "Stay away from him!" He shoved the
braided boy hard enough against the chest to push him to the ground.
Duo's eyes narrowed and he let out a low growl, as his hand went for his
weapon. Nobody pushed him around and lived to tell about it.
"Hold it, Duo." Trowa's stern voice stopped him. The prince turned toward the
Emperor's soldier. "What is going on here? What gives you the right to attack
one of servants in my castle?"
"Forgive me, your Highness," the man answered with an
enraged look at Duo. "It won't happen again, as long as he stays away from the
prisoner."
Trowa's eyes narrowed as he replied. "It won't happen again, you are right
about that. Because, you will be leaving immediately.
You have overstayed your welcome here. Gather your men and be gone."
"You can not refuse to aid us. Have you forgotten that your
uncle, the king, and Emperor Tubarov are allies?"
"Do not make me repeat myself?" The prince asked in a dangerously low voice.
Before Trowa and Duo walked away, the braided boy took one last, long look at the soldier. He was not going to forget that face.
***
When Milliardo came slowly to, he felt uncomfortable and a little
cold. He mind was still foggy. He tried to move his hands and almost panicked
when he realized he couldn't. His eyes flew open in alarm and he began to
assess the situation. He was lying on his side on the ground, hands and feet
bound with what felt like solid leather straps. His head ached. Most of the
pain seemed to be radiating from a spot behind his left ear. And suddenly he
remembered.
"I see you are awake," a voice from above said. "I was starting to worry that I
hit you a little too hard."
Milliardo turned his head to look up, and felt anger flash
through him, as he recognized the man towering over him. It was the same man
who had been in command of the soldiers attacking them. The man who had had
given orders for his men to be killed and for him and Heero to be taken
prisoner.
Heero!
"What did you do to my friend?" the prince asked his captor.
Ysard simply ignored him and walked back to a small fire burning several yards away.
Milliardo pulled against his restraints. He was hoping to
break them somehow.
"You are wasting your time and strength," his captor told him without even
turning his head. "Those bonds are made from specially treated deerskin; they
are stronger than you might think. Yet they are soft enough not to leave any
ugly scars on those beautiful wrists of yours."
The prince shot Ysard a hateful glare, as he pushed himself up into a sitting
position. "Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?" he snapped.
The man turned around and gave him a sarcastic smile. "Do you have any idea how
little I care? To me you are nothing but my prisoner. The faster you get used
to that fact the better for you."
Milliardo snorted defiantly.
Ysard let his eyes wander over the figure on the ground. A
thin smile curved his lips. He couldn't believe how lucky he had gotten. It was
true; he cared little about who his captive was. What mattered to him was the
young man's appearance. Even bruised and covered in blood and dirt he was still
handsome. And the sparkle of hate in those stunning crystal-blue eyes made him
only more attractive. Ysard was eager to take him right then and there and he
knew it would take some self control on his part to actually wait till they got
home.
"What do you want? Ransom money?" the prince asked.
The man laughed humorlessly. "Monetary things mean little to me. I'll show you
what I want when we get home. I'm sure I will have fun."
Milliardo felt a shiver running down his spine at the allusion.
"I'm sure I'll have fun watching your execution for what you have done."
He spat.
Yard's eyes narrowed slightly, as he walked over to his captive. He crouched down in front of Milliardo, put two fingers under the young man's chin and lifted it slightly. "You've got quite an attitude for somebody in your position, don't you think?"
The prince growled and spit into his face.
Ysard turned bright red and backhanded him furiously. "A
little attitude might be amusing, too much will not be tolerated."
Milliardo closed his eyes as he tried to control his raging anger. Blood was
pouring from his nose and the blow had split his upper lip. This can
not be happening. This has to be some kind of nightmare I'm going to wake up
from any minute now.
Ysard raised his hand and slowly run it through Milliardo's
pale blond hair. The prince jerked his head away and glared daggers at the man.
"Don't dare to touch me," he hissed.
"So much pride and defiance," the man said almost softly. "I think I'm going to
have a lot of fun breaking that spirit of yours."
Those words made the prince shudder, and for the first time he felt something
besides anger and hate toward the man. He was scared.
Ysard pulled his dagger from his belt. Milliardo swallowed hard ands tensed.
"Relax!" his captor told him. "I made something to eat. I'm going to retie your
hands in front of you so you can eat on your own. Unless you would like
for me to feed you?" he added with a smirk.
Milliardo's mind ran in overdrive as the man bend over him to cut the leather
bindings around his wrists. All he could think of was that this might be his
chance of escape. If I can get my hands on that dagger…
Milliardo waited patently till his hands were free and Ysard
ordered him to put them in front of him, then he exploded. His right fist
connected with his captor's chin, which was nicely positioned right in front of
him. The man, obviously not expecting the attack, was thrown backward.
Milliardo flung himself onto him. But the man recovered quicker than the prince
had expected and fought back. The two of them struggles as Milliardo tried to
pry the dagger out of Ysard's fist. The prince's
tied-up legs gave him a serious disadvantage over the older man. Ysard managed
to throw Milliardo onto his back. He was heavier than his opponent, and used
his weight to pin his prisoner beneath him. The prince thrashed and tried to
buck his captor off of him, as Ysard pulled his arms together behind his back
and retied his wrists. Once Milliardo's hands were bound securely behind his
back, the man got up. He towered over his prisoner, panting. His nostrils
flared in rage, as he whispered dangerously low.
"I swear I'm going to make you regret this."
The prince closed his eyes in defeat, and preparing himself for what was to
come. He was certain it was going to hurt, a lot.
***
Heero shifted his body to make himself somewhat more comfortable, if that was at all possible in the position he was in.
Soon after nightfall the soldiers had set up camp, and they had chained him to this tree for the night. Every once in a while one of the guards came to check on him. For what had to be the hundredth time, the brown-haired boy pulled against his restraints, though he knew very well it was useless. By now his wrists were chafed from the heavy manacles he was wearing. But concentrating on the pain stopped him from thinking too much. He didn't want to think, because it was more painful than anything else was. He had overheard the soldiers talk, and from what they said he gathered that he and he alone had been the target for the assault. And when he thought about it but blame himself for the deaths of all those people and for Milliardo's kidnapping. He had failed in the worst way possible.
Heero sighed inwardly
and told himself that he needed to get some rest to preserve what little
strength he had left. But sleep didn't come easy. He was cold, but he was
chained to the tree so tied that he could barely even move his head.
A noise caught his attention. It wasn't the approaching footsteps of a guard or
the sounds made by the horses. He opened his eyes and listened. Suddenly a hand
was pressed over his mouth.
"Don't make a sound," a voice whispered next to his left ear. "I'll see if I
can help you. But if they hear us we are both in trouble. Understood?"
Heero thought that he had heard that voice before, but he wasn't sure. He nodded once and the hand was removed. He wasn't able though to turn his head far enough to see the person behind him. He could feel his chains move as somebody tried to unlock them. Moments later there was a click and this restrains loosened. First the chain around his neck fell. Heero closed his eyes and hissed in pain when the manacles around his sore wrists opened.
He could hear the
person behind him gasp. "That's gotta hurt like
hell," The voice next to his ear said. "It looks like they worked you over
pretty well too. Do you think you can walk on your own?"
Heero nodded again.
"Then take a horse and get out of here. Don't worry about the guards, I took
already care of them."
"What about you?" The young lord whispered, as the last of his restraints was
removed. His rescuer didn't answer him. "Who are you…" He turned his head, only
to find that he was alone. His mysterious helper had disappeared as quietly as
he had come. Heero frowned, but decided that he had no time to wonder about
that now. He had to escape before one of the soldiers awoke.
The horses were tethered nearby. When Heero approached them he found one of the
guards. The man was dead. He was lying on his back. The brown-haired boy
grimaced when he saw how the man had died. It looked like something had
literally ripped out his throat.
Heero couldn't think of any weapon that did that kind of damage. He fought down the feeling of nausea, as he stripped the soldier of his sword belt, dagger and a small leather bag of coins. He released all of the horses before he mounted his own. If nothing else, it would buy him some extra time when the soldiers had to round up their steeds before they could pursue him.
***
Milliardo woke up in pain. Every bone in his body hurt.
Every breath of air he took sent a stab of pain through his chest. He wondered
if he had some broken ribs. Ysard had beaten him within an inch of death after
his escape attempt.
Milliardo kept his breathing slow and shallow to ease the agony somewhat. His
whole body was stiff from the cold and the uncomfortable position he was lying
in. Something hard was pressing painfully against his already aching ribs.
Determined not to show any weakness, the prince suppressed any signs of
suffering, as he shifted slightly to remove the object of his discomfort. He
almost hissed when he cut his fingertips on the sharp edge of a piece of rock
or flint he was lying on.
Milliardo was barely able to suppress an excited gasp as he
realized his streak of luck. When the rock's edge was sharp enough to cut his
skin, perhaps it was also sharp enough to cut his bonds.
The prince had to force himself not to try his theory right then and there. But
was sure Ysard was watching him carefully. After wasting his first chance to
escape he could not afford to loose another one. He had to be patient and wait
for the right time to come. His captor would have to go to sleep eventually,
wouldn't he?
With those thoughts and a newfound sense of hope, Milliardo slipped the stone
into the waistband of his pants, and waited.
Ysard was sitting by the fire. Every once in a while he would raise his head and gaze into Milliardo's direction. When he realized that his prisoner was awake he rose, picked up a canteen, and walked over to him. He seized the front of Milliardo's vest and pulled the young man roughly into a sitting position.
The prince let out a small cry at the pain stabbing through
his chest. He hated himself for giving his captor that kind of satisfaction.
"You got nobody but yourself to blame for that," Ysard told him unemotionally.
He unscrewed the top of the water bottle and offered it to the prince.
Milliardo turned his head away and pressed his lips together. He almost expecting another blow for this new act of defiance, but it never came.
Instead his captor shrugged and turned to leave. "Fine, don't drink. You will come around eventually."
"Why?" Milliardo asked as the man
started to walk away. "Why did you go through all this trouble
just to kidnap me?"
Ysard turned and snorted at him sarcastically. "I hope this won't hurt your royal
ego too much, but it wasn't about you at all. You were merely at the wrong
place at the wrong time; not that I'm complaining though."
"Then what was is about?" Milliardo wanted to know.
"Somebody hired me to capture your young friend; that boy named Heero Yuy."
"Who?"
"That, my dear Prince, is none of your concern."
Milliardo glared at his captor. The man was standing just inches away from the prince. He reached out to gently caress a dark bruise in Milliardo's face. The younger man clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, but didn't flinch away from the touch.
"I can't blame you for hating
me right now," Ysard spoke almost softly. "But perhaps your attitude will
change when we had more time to get to know each other. I'm not as much of a
monster as you might think. In time you will realize that. As long as you obey
me you will have no reason to complain."
Milliardo snorted. "Never!"
"Never is a very long time," Ysard replied calmly. "Now get some sleep,
we will rise early."
***
When Duo climbed back into his room he found Trowa sitting
by the fireplace, reading a book.
"Where have you been?" his friend asked.
He shrugged. "I had to take care of something."
Trowa nodded knowingly. "Were you successful?"
The braided boy made an amused sound, as he started to take off his bloodied
clothes. "Does the sun come up in the morning?"
Trowa said. "Did anybody see you?"
Duo snorted. He felt almost offended by that question. "Of
course not. Not in human form anyway."
"You freed him didn't you?" It was more a statement than a question.
Duo looked at the prince in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Just a guess," Trowa shrugged. "Something about the way you reacted in the courtyard. It wasn't just because that soldier put his hands on you, was it?"
"I guess it was the way they treated him. Nobody deserves to be treated that way. Besides…" Duo added with a cheerful smirk "He has the most amazing blue eyes I have ever seen."
***
After several hours, when Heero reached a small mountain stream he was convinced that he was safe from any pursuer. He stopped his horse and dismounted.
The water was cold and crystal clear. Heero kneeled down by the stream and scooped up the refreshing liquid with both hands. Thirsty as he was; he drunk too fast and too much. His stomach rebelled almost immediately. He vomited bile and water, for lack of anything else in his system, until the convulsions in his belly stopped. On shaky knees he made his way back to the water, rinsed out his mouth and splashed some of the cold water in his face. He allowed himself to collapse at the water's edge and rest for a while, before he started to tent to his wounds. After examining the scrapes on his wrists he determined that they were only superficial wounds. He winced as he took off his leather vest. The front of his finely spun tunic was stained with blood from a sword-wound he had sustained during the battle. He slipped the shirt over his head and started cleaning the injury with water. From what he could tell, once the blood was washed away, the gash was long, and deep. It crossed almost his entire chest, but even though it burned like hell, it was nothing he couldn't survive. Using strips ripped from his shirt as makeshift bandages, he dressed the wound, then put on his clothes again.
Heero took another drink of water and this time e managed to
keep it down.
Even though his body screamed for rest, he forced himself to mount his horse
and ride on. Later, he told himself, I can get all the rest I need.
But first there were more important things to take care of. The king needed to know what had happened. If Milliardo was still alive time could be of importance.
***
Milliardo found that sitting up was more bearable than lying down. He was leaning with his back against a large rock, and pretended to be asleep. With his head dipped down, and his chin resting on his chest, he watched his captor though pale blond bangs.
After what seemed forever Ysard finally settled down by the
fire once again. Milliardo was sure that the man could definitely not see what
the prince was doing behind his back, from where he was sitting.
He pulled out the small rock and, without taken his eyes off Ysard, started
cutting at his bonds. It was an exhausting task, and more than once he slipped
and cut his own wrists instead of the leather straps. At one point the stone
slipped from his hand and had a hard time finding it again. He could feel blood
run down his wrists and he prayed that his injuries were only superficial.
Otherwise he could be very dead, very fast. But then, Milliardo thought
with a tinge of bitterness, maybe a quick and painless death is better than
anything he has planned for me?
Suddenly Ysard rose again, stretched and stepped away from
the fire. Milliardo froze. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow
and even breaths. His heart was beating wildly, as he heard the man's footsteps
approaching.
"Wake up!" his captor nudged his shoulder.
Milliardo opened his eyes slowly and pretended to wake up.
"I'm tired. I'm going to tie you to a tree. I think I'll sleep easier knowing
you can't go anywhere." Ysard announced. "Somehow I don't trust you." Ysard
grabbed the younger man by the arm and pulled him to his feet. His face turned
red in fury when his eyes fell onto Milliardo's wrists. "And that's the reason
why!" he growled angrily and struck the prince hard across the face. Milliardo
head snapped back and hit the rock behind him with a sickening thud.
His legs collapsed beneath him, as his mind plunged into the welcome darkness of unconsciousness.
***
It took Heero nearly two days to reach the Royal
Palace. He had only stopped a few
times to allow his horse to rest. When they finally arrived at the castle, both
horse and were utterly exhausted.
King Stephan was sitting in his study, discussing Princess Relena's upcoming
trip to Oakwood with Captain Treize, when one of the guards informed him of the
Lord Yuy's arrival. He reported that the young lord had entered the castle
alone and in great hurry.
Before the king even could ask any questions, Heero stormed into the room. He
looked like he was about to collapse any moment. Treize jumped up from his
chair to brace the young man, as the king yelled for somebody to get the healer.
"Heero, what happened? Where is Milliardo?" Stephán asked concerned.
Heero's gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry, Sire. Please forgive me, for I
have failed you."
"Sit down, and tell me what happened?" the king demanded.
Grateful for Treize's supporting arm, the boy allowed himself to be led to a
chair. In a voice far thinner than he had liked, he told the two men everything
that had occurred.
By the time he was finished the king had turned pale. It
seemed like one of his worst nightmares had become true.
King Stephán looked up at Treize. "Captain, I want any soldier we can spare to
be sent out to search for my son."
The captain gave a confirming nod. "I'll have the soldiers
ready to leave before nightfall. Please, allow me to lead them, your Highness!"
The king nodded. He knew that Treize was probably hit hard by Lieutenant Otto's
death. "Just be careful, Captain," he urged.
As the captain saluted and left the study the king put
his hand on Heero's shoulder.
"Heero, listen to me. Do not blame yourself for this. It was not your fault."
The young lord looked up to his foster father, sadness in his eyes. "But it
was, Sire. I do not deserve your compassion."
The king frowned and gave the boy a stern look. "Don't you ever talk that way,
do you understand me? Nobody is to blame for this but the people who attacked
you. And when Milliardo gets back home he will most certainly tell you the
same."
__________________________________________________________________________________________
T.B.C.
Author's notes:
For some reason the review system on ff.net isn't
working properly. None the reviews posted for the latest chapters are showing up
on the review page.
I would appreciate it if you could send, for the time being, your reviews directly
to me via e-mail, or read and review my stories on my website www.gundam-wing-fanfiction.net.
If you go there you will, as a little bonus, also be able to read the unedited
version of this story. Thank you.
Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)