I am SOOO happy that you're writing in to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
syr
In the Tokyo library, Keisuke turned the page with a shaking hand. "The arrow through his body jumped and tore at muscle, grated on bone. Hotohori struggled with the searing pain flashing from shoulder to abdomen, as he fumbled one-handed for the reins and tried to keep up with the racing horse. He didn't know how far he had managed to ride without being thrown, but just as he caught the reins, the horse jumped, and Hotohori crashed to the ground. A rock cracked him on the forehead. Hotohori thought of Miaka's face as he dropped into blackness."
Miaka wiped at her eyes often, but she kept looking. She had dismounted and now walked along beside Tamahome's horse, looking for hoof prints in the dirt. There didn't seem to be many, and they lost the signs of the horse's trail quickly. A drop of blood had led them to an uncertain trail presumably left by the Emperor's horse, but there were so many animal trails, and while the members of the small party tried to follow the bent grasses, the sun dropped lower in the sky.
As the others looked, Tamahome thought about the attack. The guard had not returned; they had not hailed the search party with news of the assassin. Neither captured nor escaped. And briefly, as they rode, Tamahome sensed a presence, one he was very familiar with, not in a good way. It was like a poison in his veins; it gave him memories of Yui and a pink ribbon, and a brutal fight, but then it vanished, as if it had never been. He looked down at Miaka. She was holding the horse's bridle; he wondered what she was feeling.
The last trail led to a field of flowers. They were tiny and purple. A whole field of the friendship flowers that Hotohori had given her, like those she had lost. They smelled beautiful, powerful, triggering memories that overcame Miaka's emotions. She began to cry. Tamahome understood. He jumped off his horse and held her shoulders as the tears ran down her cheeks. "What if we don't find him?" she whispered. "It's been so long since the attack. That arrow! What if he's already dead? Nobody could survive that! Not even an hour. He'll die alone, out here somewhere. In the dark."
Tamahome looked down at her. He was worried, too. Hotohori had saved Miaka's life. He stoked her hair, and suddenly felt an inexplicable flicker of jealousy. The poison stirred. He pulled her tighter and kept his voice low. "Don't worry. We'll find him, and he'll be fine." Long shadows fell across his body as Nuriko came over to them. Tamahome continued to speak to Miaka. "But you're right. We're taking too long." Tamahome stood up and turned to the others. His voice was commanding. "I think we need to split up. Miaka and I will go north. You, servant and guard, should go east. Nuriko go west. If anybody finds him, take him to the palace, if you can. We'll meet there in two days."
. . . They quickly distributed their supplies, but Nuriko felt uneasy about Tamahome's decision. He said nothing; the groups split up and went off to search their own separate paths.
Hotohori came to with a gasp. Somebody had kicked his head. Red ran across his vision; he brushed blood out of his eyes. Tamahome stood near him, but he was turned away from Hotohori, toward the sounds of a struggle. Hotohori moved as best he could, to see what was happening. It was Miaka!
She was struggling to escape the grip of General Nakago. "Let me go! Nuurugh! Let me go! Let me go!"
"I think not." Nakago tightened his grip, so she couldn't move. "Lady Yui wants me to bring you back to Kutou alive, but I have other plans for you. Look over there. Your Emperor will die soon. But I have it in mind to make him suffer a bit more before he does."
"Tamahome!" Hotohori looked to his friend and struggled to rise, but the arrow anchored him to the ground. "Nakago!" he gasped, "Let the Priestess go! You cannot have her! Tamahome, save her! Please! I can't move!"
Nakago glared down at Hotohori. "See. The child wakes up. Quite a bit of spunk for a dead man. Leaving Konan without its emperor was an ill-considered move, Highness. My Emperor has ordered the destruction of your palace and the slaughter of your people. You have made the Priestess of Suzaku an easy target by bringing her out in the country. You were foolish to scoff at the safe passage offered by a neighboring empire's ruler. You know you have enemies." Nakago paused and pointed to the figure by Hotohori. "You should know that your enemies are even among you! Tamahome come to me!"
Miaka kicked at Nakago. "No! Not Tamahome! He is free of your spells! He was healed!" She stopped fighting and spoke to Tamahome as he approached. "I know you love me! You overcame the drugs and spells before! Remember? Please! You love me; you can use your love to break the spell! Tamahome!"
Nakago chuckled, but didn't loosen his grip. "Love! Is that how you thought you broke my spell? Stupid girl, you are quite mistaken. I have heard of this. Strong emotions only serve to weaken the drug's effect." Nakago's voice hissed in her ears. "I have control of him. Tamahome will kill you, Priestess. Kill you slowly before the eyes of the Emperor who so adores you. It is ironic that all this time you believed Tamahome free of my power, when I knew his every thought. I merely had to adapt the spell. I never lost complete control of him!"
Hotohori stared at Tamahome. The symbol of the ogre was bright on his forehead as he drew his dagger. "No! Tamahome! You are a Warrior of Suzaku! You cannot harm the Priestess! Tamahome, you love Miaka, even as I do! You cannot kill her. Tamahome! Listen to me!"
"No, Your Majesty," Tamahome's voice dripped sarcasm at the title, as he stood beside the General. "I do not. She is irritating to me. She is an enemy of Seiryu and of Kutou, and I will kill her."
His knife swept through the air and it plunged into Miaka's side. As Miaka cried out in anguish, Hotohori felt the knife searing into his own flesh, around the arrow, up into his neck. The serpent symbol flared bright red; a garbled voice flashed through his head. He was doubled up on the ground, pain surrounding him, but his thoughts were only of Miaka. Hotohori knew he would die to protect the Priestess if he had to.
He struggled to his knees.
"No! I will not allow this!" Hotohori gasped. "I will protect you, Miaka!" He looked up and shouted to the sky, "Suzaku give me the strength to do what I must! Suzaku! Preserve me!" Showers of red coursed over his body and streaked into the air. Warm blood ran down his side, but it glowed from the power granted by Suzaku. Hotohori gathered his feet beneath him and stood up. He no longer felt the blood. He no longer felt the arrow. Suzaku was speaking through him. He drew his sword. "Nakago! Tamahome! Stand away from the Priestess!"
The Emperor felt his powers strengthening and ran forward, but it was Tamahome who swung his knife to engage the attack. Hotohori parried the blow and shouted, "Tamahome, think what are you doing! Don't fight me! Fight Nakago! Fight his influence! You have to protect Miaka! She's the Priestess!" Tamahome wasn't listening. He dodged away from Hotohori and caught the guard of his knife under the hilt of the Emperor's sword. They struggled for a moment, but the Emperor was an experienced fighter charged with the power of Suzaku. He twisted the dagger and sent it flying from Tamahome's grip. Tamahome staggered back and Hotohori shoved him off his feet. The Emperor turned to Nakago.
General Nakago supported the bleeding Priestess with one arm. In his other hand he held a short metal pike. He glared at Hotohori, his mouth turned down in anger, and without a word Nakago stabbed the weapon into Miaka's shoulder. Her scream pierced through Hotohori; he fell to his knees and grabbed at his shoulder, but the arrow jumped and a wave of dizziness swept through Hotohori's mind. Instead of fading, the red power arched from the arrow, swirling around his neck and leaping into Hotohori's sword. The power raced toward Nakago.
He didn't even flinch. A small gesture and the red power evaporated into the shadows.
"Your attempts are pathetic. You won't even get close to her!" Nakago formed a blast with his mind and sent the energy coursing into Hotohori. The power smashed the Emperor against a tree, and he reeled to the ground. The serpent symbol flickered and dimmed. His sword was gone. Hotohori was barely able to raise his head when he heard Nakago's voice, speaking to him.
"Watch carefully, Hotohori, Emperor Saihitei. This will be the fate of all the people of Eiyo! It will be the fate of Konan! Tamahome, finish this!"
Tamahome rose to his feet and wiped blood from a small cut on the side of his hand onto his shirt. His eyes glittered dangerously, and his shoulders tensed. He advanced on Miaka again.
Miaka shrieked and struggled, wheeling Nakago's back to Hotohori. "No, Tamahome! No! NO-O-O! Tamahome! Hotohori! Help me!" Her frantic screams reached into the darkness clouding Hotohori's consciousness, and he saw the only option left to him--Tamahome's dagger was laying near his hand.
Hotohori dragged the knife back and pushed himself upright against the tree trunk. He hefted the knife in his hand. It was so heavy. He didn't know if he even had the strength to throw it. He couldn't breathe. But if this was how it ended, so be it. Miaka was worth his life.
"Nakago. You shall not have her. I love her and will protect her to my last breath," he whispered. Then he threw the knife straight at the General's back.
Hotohori felt rather than saw the General turn to look at him. He heard an evil laugh in his head. "I know you. I know what you will do. You cannot kill me." Nakago's cloak swirled; he and Tamahome vanished, leaving Miaka wide open to the knife streaking through the air. It never wavered. As if driven by the hand of Seiryu, the knife plowed into Miaka's heart, and she fell to the ground.
Hotohori gasped. "No, no. Miaka, Miaka. No." He began to drag himself over the grass, grass that had been pleasant and soft just a short time ago. Now it cut and pulled, catching the arrow's tip. He called out louder, "Miaka. Miaka!" His robes, which had once been comfortable and comforting now tangled around his legs and hindered his movements. He shouted to her, "Miaka. Please answer me. Miaka!" He struggled, desperate, straining to reach her, but he was exhausted. She was so far away. He hitched himself closer. The Emperor's fingertips touched the edge of her skirt.
"Mi . . . aka?"
Suddenly, he heard a most welcome sound: Nuriko shouting, "Hotohori! Majesty! Where are you?"
Hotohori tried to answer, but he couldn't even gasp; there was no breath left to him. His vision began to fade. His hand was cold, and he couldn't feel Miaka anymore. The last thing he knew was an icy river of tears flowing down his face, staining his hair with grief. The last thing he saw was his lifted hand covered in blood.
Then, on the edge of his senses, he heard the strangely distorted gurgle of a stream, and horse hooves pounding toward him.
Nuriko practically fell off the horse in his haste to dismount when he saw Hotohori. The Emperor was laying on his stomach in the shallows of the stream, his head twisted to one side. Water soaked his robes and the current caressed his hair quietly. A tree leaned at a crazy angle out over the water, providing deep shadows in the twilight. Then, Nuriko saw the bloody arrow feathers protruding from the Emperor's back and heard his shallow, gasping breaths. Hotohori was slowly dying.
Nuriko splashed into the gravelly stream and knelt over the Emperor. He found a pulse at Hotohori's wrist, then sat back on his heels. What was he going to do? He didn't know where to find the others, and he didn't have the skill to remove the arrow, if it came to that. He didn't want to drape Hotohori over the back of the horse, but there just didn't seem to be any other options. He grabbed Hotohori's arm and turned him onto his back, then easily picked the Emperor up. Nuriko was considerably shorter than Hotohori, but he was a Warrior of Suzaku, too. And sometimes, having the superhuman strength that gave him had its advantages!
Water ran in a torrent off Hotohori's clothes, and he moved in Nuriko's arms. His eyes slid open. "Nu-Nuriko," he gasped weakly, "M-Miaka. I, I tr-tried, I, I couldn't. Miaka. I, I k- k-k . . . " He moaned and closed his eyes against the pain.
"Highness, don't speak. I've got you. I'm going to take you back to Konan."
Hotohori's golden eyes flew open, his muscles tensed. "Konan? No, don't go there. Miaka! No! Kutou is there."
"What?!?"
Hotohori took a shuddering breath. "Nakago is here."
Nuriko inhaled sharply and looked around. There was nothing. "Highness, I don't sense any danger here." There was no response. "Highness?" Nuriko looked at the man in his arms. The Emperor lay limply, blood running into his wet hair from a cut high on his forehead. His heartbeat was ragged; he needed help. Now.
Nuriko stepped onto the bank, but his horse moved away, snorting and tossing its head at the smell of blood. Nuriko approached it slowly. This was not one of the war horses. It was an uneasy beast at best, but the nag had been available when they had left the north to return to Konan. It was not going to readily accept two riders; the horse pranced back.
Nuriko let out an irritated breath, and made to follow the horse when he kicked something in the grass. He moved to see what it was. At his feet lay the Emperor's sword. He whistled, low with surprise, then laid Hotohori on his side in the grass and picked the sword up. Blood crusted the grip and dried on the blade. Nuriko hastily rubbed the sword clean in the grass and returned it to its scabbard. It wouldn't do to leave the Emperor's sword here!
Then, from out of the brush, the Emperor's horse sauntered up and nickered. Nuriko just gaped. Now there was a real horse. It could travel fast and wouldn't spook easily. And the state saddle on its back would accommodate two riders. He wasn't sure how he was going to get them both onto the saddle, but he would manage.
He felt the Emperor move and bent down. He could barely hear Hotohori's whisper.
"Nuriko. That is my horse. It is trained. Let me lean on that tree. You mount, then pull me up."
Nuriko was appalled by the suggestion. He sat back quickly and his brows knit together. "Highness, I can't do that! It would move the arrow! It would kill you." But Hotohori shook his head.
"This has . . . to be done. How could it kill me? If . . . dead . . . already." Suddenly, his hands balled into fists and he choked for air. Nuriko reached down to him, but the Emperor forestalled him; his voice was stronger. "I . . . can ride comfortably on the state saddle. The horse will . . . kneel for . . . me. We must cross . . . the border to Konan . . . tonight."
"No."
Hotohori put his hand around the point protruding from under his ribs and tipped up his chin. Between clenched teeth he replied, "This is something . . . I order you to do. Do not disobey my Imperial Command."
Nuriko flinched from that voice; he was compelled to do as Hotohori said. Still, the doing of it wrung his heart. He helped Hotohori to his feet.
The horse stood calmly while Nuriko mounted, then kneeled with only a little coaxing. He was careful as he pulled Hotohori onto the horse, but the Emperor bit his lip, to keep the pain from overwhelming him. The state saddle was not so comfortable with two people. Still, it was better to have the Emperor upright, slightly turned, his side pressed against Nuriko, then head-down over Nuriko's nag.
The Emperor's stallion lurched to its feet, jarring its riders. Hotohori leaned hard into Nuriko, arching his back and grinding his teeth. The spasm passed, leaving him gasping and fevered. "We must leave now! The empire . . . is in danger," he managed to grit out. Nuriko shook his head. What? He had no idea what the Emperor meant, but he flicked the reins. His sleeve caught the arrow point, jerking it sharply. Hotohori gasped and his head fell against Nuriko's shoulder. "Emperor! Majesty?" There was no response. Nuriko bit his lip and carefully removed his sleeve from the arrow's point. He tightened his arms around Hotohori. "I'm sorry." The Warrior sat up straighter, and tried not to cry.