The reason this chapter gets so bitty is that I got a sort of writer's block about half way through. I knew what I wanted to happen, but it didn't seem to be translating to the page. -- Not happy about it.
Don't own, don't sue, don't steal. Meh.
Edit 24/7/04: Minor formatting change, and - thanks to advice from my amazing reviewer Tekli - this should be easier on the eyes. And for those who are wondering, I have not written the date the wrong way round. It's always like that.
Chapter Two; Shadows and Light
by Susan('s Shadow)
"BAKURA!" Tristan bellowed. "Are you in there?" He waited a moment, but there was no reply. "Fine... Just hold onto him for a minute," he ordered, draping Joey's arm around a startled Mai. They'd ditched the Weapons back at the castle, while Joey and Mai had got changed from their armours to something more suitable for the town (i.e. mini-skirts, short top and the whip for Mai, and thick warm clothing for Joey).
"What!?!" she spluttered, trying to sort the tangle of limbs that was the semi-concious fire knight.
"Just don't let him fall! I'm checking if Bakura's in."
"But - " She was too late, the soldier had gone inside. 'Does he really expect me to take care of THIS?' she fumed. 'I'm a harpy - this is men's work!' She was about to take this out of Joey - probably by throwing him onto the floor - when she made the mistake of actually looking at him. At him, not the fire knight.
He was almost... pathetic. Joey's thick blonde hair was plastered to his forehead by sweat. His eyes were closed, his face set into what seemed to be a permanent grimace. Every breath seemed to hurt him, and he clutched his ribs. It had taken Tristan half-carrying him to even get him the quarter of a mile from the castle to the city. He'd been fine until he'd got changed. Once he'd got out of the armour, he seemed to have slowly begun to collapse in on himself.
As though he felt her scrutiny, he opened his honey coloured eyes. "What...?" He winced and stopped.
"Does it hurt?"
Joey nodded, but tried to stand up without leaning on her. Maybe it was because he didn't like resting his head on the shoulder of an enemy, or that he was trying to show some manners and not lean on someone who he shouldn't be leaning on. ('Yeah right,' she thought, amused.) Or, judging by the way his face had turned crimson, he was embarrassed about something. Perhaps her top had been a little too short for doing something like that...
Joey wasn't the sort of guy who liked begging help off strangers. If he had the choice between suffering on his own or getting the help of someone he didn't know or like - no matter how much their help would make things easier - he'd go with struggling. That was the reason he'd pushed away from Mai, despite his condition. He didn't like the thought of asking her for help. Added to that, the way he'd been leaning gave him an... interesting view.
But as Joey put his weight on his left leg, it buckled, refusing to support him. He hit the ground hard, biting through his bottom lip in an effort to stop himself crying out. His face literally burned. The heat made his tears of pain and frustration evaporate instantly.
He hurt everywhere. Chest, legs, head, arms. He HATED it. He hated being helpless. Hated not being able to stand up by himself. Hated that every breath ached and he felt like he was drowning. Hated the way white sparkles were dancing across his eyes, the way his ears were ringing. Hated the fact that he - a fire knight, supposed to be invulnerable to things like burns - had blisters on his arms and chest that hurt like hell.
But, and his teachers would have been proud, he hadn't cried out. He may have been sprawled across the floor, unable to get up or breathe, but he had said anything, and no one could tell he was crying.
Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.
Mai crouched down next to Joey, her violet eyes not betraying her puzzlement. Joey was lying of his face, and apart from a few feeble attempts to get up, he hadn't moved, apart from to shift his head away from the blood he'd coughed up. But that wasn't what was confusing her. What was confusing her was that she was actually considering helping him. He was an enemy, a Fire Knight, someone she'd probably face on the battle field eventually. He was a threat that should be eliminated. Better now than when he was at full strength. Best to save the healer a waste of effort...
But on the other hand, he'd saved her guard from an attack that would probably have killed her. She shuddered slightly at thought of one of those thick pieces of ice going through Ruby, or the blast of light scorching the flesh off her bones. The other harpy may be impulsive, but she was a friend. And he'd saved her. So didn't that give him some credit? Earn him a few brownie points?
There were rules for this sort of situation. But they rarely mentioned enemies...
Mai frowned slightly, then rose. She held out a hand and started chanting in her natural tongue. Magic built around her hand, then burst away to shoot into Joey.
Tristan walked quickly around the whitewashed building, ignoring a half-buried memory that was nagging at the back of his head, something important, preferring to look for the healer. Bakura's apartment and surgery were spotless and bright, decorated with the strange and beautiful things people brought him in payment. Like the warm rug on the floor, or the painting on the wall (literally, it was painted onto the wall itself.), or the tapestry on the other wall, or the food, blankets and furniture. Or the shutters on the window, where most people had simple curtains instead.
The glass crystals in every window were from a local glass maker. Every time Bakura healed an apprentice who'd burnt his mouth blowing glass, he received a piece of glass that refracted the light and scattered rainbows across the rooms. He wasn't sure whether it was something Bakura had done, or something the glassmakers had done, but the crystals often gave off a pearly glow when it was dark. Tristan had asked about it once, and Bakura had given him a gentle wistful smile. "I just don't like the dark..." he had murmured, touching one of them. It twisted quickly on its cord as he brushed it, sending sparkles everywhere. "They're not as good as real gemstones, but they're better than nothing." Which made everything about as clear as mud.
But the healer wasn't in the building, and if he was out working, then he might not be back until nightfall, cross eyed and helpless. And there wasn't anyway to figure out where he'd gone. Petire (Petire: You are here.) was huge, and Bakura could be anywhere.
Tristan stood, leaning against the doorway, thinking hard.
'If Bakura leaves the place to go to a patient, then he locks the door to his apartment and storeroom.' It made sense to do that - a healer's store room contained things that were poisonous or "potentially harmful" if you weren't ill. And little kids ran in and out of Bakura's place all the time. 'They're not locked, so he can't have gone far. And he always takes that weird stick with him, unless - ' Seized by sudden inspiration, Tristan ran towards the surgery again. Sure enough, when he looked behind the door, there was a long green staff with a luminescent green gem at the top.
"He's at Téa's!" Tristan whooped. "I knew it!" And then he stopped. There was a strange harsh chanting sound coming from outside. Instantly the nagging thought was surfacing, coming through his pride to hit him like a brick. It was something Pegasus had told him once. Something about harpies taking great delight in killing enemies when they were injured.
Tristan clattered out of the house as though the hounds of hell were after him. If Mai had killed Joey, then they probably would be, in the form of Kaiba, Pegasus and Isis. But when he looked at them, Joey was sat, curled into a small ball on the ground, leaning his head on his knees. Mai's glowing hand was lightly rest on the back of his neck, gently stroking his soft blonde hair.
She looked up at him with a mischievous smile. "Why Tristan," she said innocently. "Were you worried about us? Surely you trust me,"
"Sure. About as far as I could throw the palace. What did you do to him?"
Mai looked slightly embarrassed. "It's a sleeping spell. I don't know much healing magic, barely enough to heal a scratch. But I did what I could without killing him." She looked at the back of his neck. "I need to maintain contact, otherwise the pain will wake him up again."
Tristan looked taken aback. He quickly knelt, checking to see that he was still breathing. When he saw that he was, he looked up, surprised. "I thought you guys didn't like each other!"
"That's a traditional thing. But another tradition is that if someone saves your life, or the life of your... I don't know what the word is... closer than friends... Like a sister or something..."
"Family?" Tristan offered.
"Whatever. But if someone saves the life of your family, then you owe them big time. Basically, because he saved Ruby's life, I have to save his." The irked look on her face showed how she felt about that. "Can we please not mention it though?"
"Come on then," he ordered, draping one of Joey's arms around his neck. "I've found him."
"Where?"
Tristan pointed around the corner, at a building she could just see, with a bright green sign that Mai couldn't read. Damn human writing.
"It's a restaurant. I'm friends with the owner." he explained as he half-carried, half-dragged the sleeping Joey.
"It's a what?" Mai asked, confused.
She only listened to his explanation with half an ear. Most of her attention was focused on Joey. When she performed magic that required physical contact, part of herself went into the other person. But that small part of her could tell her more about that person and their condition than anything else. And she didn't like what they were telling her.
Joey wasn't breathing properly, and there seemed to be something sloshing inside his lungs. As though there was water in them instead of air.
But he hadn't been anywhere near water so how -
Mai froze. It wasn't water she could hear. If Joey's ribs had broken badly, then he could have punctured a lung or a blood vessel, and he could be drowning in his own blood. It would only take an inch or so to kill him...
Snatching the man away from Tristan, she took off, wings pumping furiously. She flew low and fast.
How long? she thought panickedly. How long ago did I notice it? She couldn't remember.
All she remembered was that she owed the man a life. He saved her friend. She would have to save him.
Tea's Restaurant, meanwhile
Yugi looked down at Bakura, who was wearing a harassed smile. Having people looking up at him wasn't a situation he was familiar with, but he could get used to it. But Bakura was kneeling on the floor, while the shorter man was sat on a tall stool.
The source of Bakura's harassment, the owner of the restaurant, was still yelling, despite Yugi's brother trying to distract her.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT THIS!!!" she ranted. "HOW COULD YOU FALL OFF A ROOF, BREAK YOUR ANKLE AND NOT TELL ME!?!"
"Very easily apparently," Yami murmured, annoyed.
This was not a good thing to say under the circumstances. Téa turned her attention to him instead. "You! YOU could have told me!" She rounded on Bakura. "Or you! Or Solomon!"
"Yugi asked us not to," Yami said simply. "Although I thought that Yugi's ankle blowing up would be hard to miss..."
As the brunette started yelling at an unperturbed Yami, Bakura turned back to Yugi.
The first thing you noticed about Bakura was how pale he was. His clothes were white, his skin was more creamy, and his hair was paper white. If it hadn't been for his chocolatey brown eyes then he could have been an albino.
"It's definitely broken this time Yugi," Bakura told him. "Like I said yesterday. Walking on an almost broken ankle will break it."
This got Téa's attention. "You knew about this yesterday?" she growled. "Yesterday?"
Yami grabbed one pink sleeve (Téa always wore long pink gowns with a long, sleeveless blue tunic over the top. No one asked why.) and drew her away, talking very quickly and quietly.
Bakura looked amazed. "I would not like your brother's job," he said simply. "I don't think I'd have the strength. But I don't think you should walk on this for a week. Possibly even two."
"WHAT!?!" Yugi yelped. "But I have to set off tomorrow to deliver Maiko's packages!"
"Send it with someone else. You aren't walking on it. If you'd listened to me yesterday when I said that then we wouldn't be in this situation."
Yugi looked down, abashed.
"I'll take them," Yami offered.
"You don't know where to go," Yugi protested. "I have to go. Can't you do anything?"
"So you can walk on it? No. But I can arrange to have it amputated after you get back. If you insist of walking on it, then it'll need it."
There was an instant cry of "NO!" from the other two.
"Yugi you can't," Téa protested. Yami didn't say anything, but there was a look in his eyes that warned his little brother clearer than words: He wasn't go anywhere while his brother was still alive to stop him. With a sigh he sat back and watched Bakura bandage it. Whatever the healer had rubbed on it before was effective. His ankle was completely numb.
While this was happening, Téa stepped closer to Yami. "I can't believe he didn't tell me," she whispered, her eyes focused on her injured friend. "I can't believe he broke his ankle and didn't tell me. I can't believe he let me send him around town with a broken ankle."
Yami looked at her. He was around five years older, and he could only just meet her eyes. Of course, his long, spiky hair did make him look taller, but still... "He didn't want you to worry," he explained. "And he knew if he refused then you'd start asking awkward questions. Although I admit that he should have told me. I would have done it for him."
"I just feel so guilty," she whispered. "I helped him break his ankle. It's my fault that Maiko won't get whatever he's asked Yugi for."
So that was it. Téa usually had no temper to speak of, so her yelling had surprised them all.
"It's not your fault," Yami protested, reaching out to clasp her shoulder. He wasn't as comfortable around her as Yugi was, but he still didn't like to see her upset.
And it was on that comforting sentiment, Mai crashed through the door.
There is little chance that you've ever seen a harpy crashing through a doorway at high speeds. It a sight to remember.
Mai brought her own gale with her, flapping about the curtain that passed for a door, and knocking glasses off the bar. She didn't mean to of course, it just happened. But one thing she needed to worry about was the landing. Alone, she would have just stopped. But there was Joey's extra weight to contend with. So she did the next best thing.
Magic.
Gabbling spells isn't recommended. They require correct pronunciation usually, which was hard enough in a language that seemed to only consist of only a few sounds. But somehow, Mai managed a spell that knocked away the two humans in her way and cushioned her landing.
If she'd had time, she would have whispered a prayer to every harpy god she could name. As it was, she sent a mental cry of gratitude, and unloaded Joey onto the smooth wooden floor. She'd been carrying him in something akin to a fireman's lift, and was practically kneeling on him.
"I need the healer," she snapped, her eyes moving across the faces of the three people. She couldn't see anyone who looked like a healer. "This guys bleeding in his lungs."
Instantly a fourth person rose from in front of the bar ('What the hell was he doing down there?') and ran over, kneeling next to Joey. He examined him briefly by sight, then reached out a hand to touch the knight's forehead -
"Cover your eyes everyone!" Yugi warned, turning away.
Mai looked up sharply - and was half blinded by a sudden flash of white light. She fell back, scrubbing at the after image with a hand that was losing it's human appearance and taking on a more claw-like appearance. The healer jerked back as well, brown eyes wide. "Oh my," he whispered. "Oh MY,"
"What?" the woman asked, assuming he was talking to her. The man didn't even look at her, but reached out for Joey again. This time he moved so he was behind Joey's head, planted his hands on the knight's shoulders, took a deep breath -
Mai was blinded again. Cursing loudly in both languages, she rubbing streaming eyes, trying to see Joey. All she could tell was that the temperature had suddenly dropped to a much more normal level, the sort that made human breath steam in the air as the healer's was doing.
The young woman came over and pulled Mai up. "You need a drink. This could take a while."
Her breath was steaming as well, Mai noticed absently. As was the breath of her two male companions, and Tristan's as he leaned on the door frame panting. He wasn't just breathing steam - he looked as though he was breathing fire.
Mai turned to look at the healer and Joey. The healer was still breathing steam.
Joey wasn't breathing at all.
In these hands, it could be used for making monsters. A knife moved in the darkness, whispering across pure white flesh. Blood dripped into a small bowl, already containing the blood of another. Admittedly, the woman hadn't been eager to let him use it, but she didn't need it any more.
The man laughed to himself, running his fingers through the bowl, watching the trails his fingers made. As the cut from his hand met the liquid - pitch black in the darkness - he gasped in pain. White light was forming in the bowl, hurting his eyes. But he didn't move his hand, despite it burning as though in acid. He had a job to do, and he wasn't going to stop until it was done.
After all, that would spoil the game...
'Light?'
Well, it could hardly be called light. It was pale, weak. Almost grey. It was as though someone had put dusty glass between him and a dim light.
But that wasn't what was bothering him. Light and darkness didn't bother him. What bothered him was the bone deep cold that had decided to latch onto him. Coming from volcanoes, it was a situation he was neither equipped nor willing to deal with.
On the plus side, his body didn't hurt any more. It was more a vague throbbing, like a heartbeat that came from his whole body. Apart from his shoulders. His shoulders were numb, so cold that they burned.
'Maybe I'm dead,' he panicked. What a way to go - collapsed in a heap in front of a harpy of all people. If he survived, he was never going to live it down. He tried to move, tried to push himself up, so that he didn't look so disgraceful. Strangely, nothing responded. He tried again, a barely noticeable frown on his face. He was rewarded by a slight twitch of his fingers, and a soft whisper of [Hush...]
He was about to question the voice - did you really hear voices when you died? - when he was... distracted. It was like someone had moved the dusty glass and turned up the lights. The dusty grey was replaced by soft, gentle white that washed over him, soothing him. The soft voice returned, chanting words he didn't know.
'Aw hell, if this is dying, it ain't that bad...'
And then he jerked forwards as though someone had kicked him in the stomach. What the hell was happening to his chest?
Everyone but Yami and Bakura jumped as Joey lunged up. His eyes were open - but flat and empty, as though someone had sucked his soul out. He tried to curl up, tried to hold himself, but Bakura held him back mercilessly.
"Someone help me," the white-haired man gasped. "He's fighting - "
And it was obvious why. Even through two shirts, they could see his chest bulging and wriggling, moving in places it shouldn't, as his ribs moved and writhed beneath his skin.
Tristan turned away, his face green, and raced outside. The faint sound of him retching carried back to them.
"I think I'll join - " Téa started, before having to sprint as well. Yugi didn't throw up, but he turned away.
Yami moved forward almost lazily, grabbing the knights legs.
'What good will he do?' Mai asked herself. 'He doesn't look strong enough- 'But she had to change that thought as the man with tri-coloured hair forced Joey's legs down and straight. (Get your minds out of the gutter.)
She could have held him down alone. She could have closed down his mind so that he couldn't do anything. But for some reason, the blonde woman couldn't move from her position by the bar. Her mind was focused on two simple thoughts: 'If he dies, then the enemy will OWN me or Ruby forever.' Harpy custom dictated that if someone saved your life, you saved theirs. If she failed in that, the debt would owed to his family.
The second was 'He CAN'T die yet. The idiot can't die until I've had a proper conversation with him.'
She didn't know where it came from either.
Anyone else would have been disgusted. Holding the ankles of someone in mortal pain - of a dead man who hadn't lain down yet. Watching the blonde man thrash against Bakura's impassionate grip, his back arching as his ribs looked prepared to throw themselves out of his chest. He felt a twinge of pity. But that wasn't what he was focused on. What he was focused on was Bakura. How the pale, fragile-looking man could hold down someone with as much strength as the victim - er, patient was exerting was completely beyond him.
It was easier to focus once Yami was helping to hold the man down. Without having to try and force the man to be still, he could focus on chanting the "spell" that would help him heal the man.
The ribs were moving quickly, reversing out of the mans lungs, leaving holes that blood rushed to fill. It was hard to decide what to deal with first: the broken ribs, the holes in the lungs, the blood sloshing around and drowning him. Picking one would just cause equal problems.
So why not just half-kill himself and deal with all three at once?
Mai slowly started to relax as Joey's chest stopped it's mad dancing and wriggling. He might be okay, if the light flowing around his chest was to help him. But if she'd looked at Bakura as Yami was doing, she'd has seen how pale and tight Bakura's face was becoming, and the beads of sweat emerging on his forehead.
Let's face it. Men can't multitask.
Light. White light that seeped through the blond's skin, that sank into him, that wrapped around the bones, and the blood, and the muscle.
Light. Healing light that was closing the holes in the man's lungs, pulling his bones back together, fixing the blood vessels that had been punctured.
Light. Forcing the blood out of the newly- healed lungs, back up the man's throat, the quickest way to move it.
Darkness. Replacing the light, absorbing it, smothering everything.
Darkness. Moving through the patient, up through him to Bakura.
Darkness. Swallowing him alive...
Darkness.
Darkness.
Darkness...
Yami hadn't minded volunteering. He hadn't objected to holding down the man. But if he'd known that he was going to end up covered with blood, he would have objected intensely.
Joey lunged forwards, coughing and spluttering. Coughing up blood.
All
over
him.
The man let go of one ankle, shielding his face. "Hell - " he started, looking at his arm and shirt. "Thanks. I really needed that."
His brother smothered a startled laugh. "At least you have you're priorities sorted," he teased. "But I don't think Bakura will appreciate - "
Everyone turned to the man in question, ready to apologise, and stopped. Bakura's brown eyes were opened. His hands were digging cruelly into the patients shoulders, drawing more blood. A faint shadow was crawling up from the blond's body, wrapping around Bakura's wrists and holding him down while it wound up his arms.
"No -" he pleaded, eyes widening. "No -" Then the shadow was around his throat, sliding over his chin and into his open mouth.
He screamed.
The humans had dived forwards as they saw the shadow. What they thought they could do was beyond her, but figuring it was better to try to limit the losses, she knocked them away.
"DON'T touch it." she growled, trying to be heard over the banshee wail of the healer. "This sort of magic spreads very easily. And it can kill those who aren't prepared."
"So it's going to kill Bakura and this guy?" demanded the man at Joey's feet. "And you don't care."
"There's nothing I can do," Mai informed them, folding her arms. It was strange not having to work around her wings. Yes, there were definitely advantages to this human body. "This is human magic. You're humans, you think what you can do with it."
Violet eyes met as the three of them looked at each other. The scream died.
"I work at the palace." the eldest said quietly. "We've had a few magical attacks. And I've discovered that the best way to deal with it -" He drew a knife from his belt, eyes never leaving Mai's. "- is to stop it at the source."
There was a challenge in those eyes. And a question. Violet eyes that weren't giving any clues to the answer.
"I have a feeling," Mai said, her voice in the same low, dangerous tone as his own. "That killing Joey isn't going to stop the spell."
"Oh really."
Mai grit her teeth. "Yes. Really." She walked forwards, frowning, and looked at the two victims. Joey was lying as flat and stiff as a board. His eyes were flat discs of brown. The faint honey-coloured sheen had vanished from them, and he looked... dead. The shadow was covering his torso and face, veiling him with a faint shade of grey. At least now she could see that he was breathing, no matter how slowly.
The healer on the other hand, was bent double, his face white, his mouth still open. His chocolatey irises had disappeared, swallowed by pupil. As she watched, the black started to bleed into the whites of his eyes. His throat worked as she stared, as she backed away. Through the veil of darkness covering his mouth, she could make out that he wasn't saying recognisable.
The healer was screaming and he couldn't make a sound.
A shadow, trickling like blood through his mind, whispering words he didn't understand.
Fear gripped him, freezing him, catching his scream before it could even be formed. He had the feeling that he was falling into an endless dark, cold well... Falling silently, eternally, drowning in his fears...
Joey snarled furiously. He hated being scared. To him, fear was a stepping stone to anger.
And anger was the stepping stone to something being blown up.
He wasn't falling. He'd fallen. The darkness wrapped around him like loving arms, pulling him, smothering his sobs and pleas.
/Don't worry... I've found you now... You're mine now. You're stuck with me./
Bakura stiffened. That smooth voice with it's harsh edges, the grim chuckle, the tightening grasp of the darkness.
/That's right. I've found you Bakura. And this time you won't get away./
No.
/Yes./
This couldn't happen. Not now. Not like this.
/Face it. It has. And you're MINE./
He lashed out. Struggling, trying to scream. Trying to summon a little light...
There was a soft chuckle that seemed oddly... flat. As though it should have echoed in the emptiness, while it couldn't. There was a sensation of strong arms wrapping around his chest, slowly, but hard enough to crush the air out of his lungs. /Give up. You're not getting away again. Not this time.
Never again./
Authoress's Note: Any suggestions for exactly what Yugi's carrying for Maiko are welcome!)
Does anyone recognise the staff in Kura's house? Think: You see it nearly every time Yugi duels, and Arcana uses it a lot (I just saw the last episode of that duel today looks at calendar i.e. 4th July (Happy indepedance day to any americans who do that stuff. If you ask me, it's just Guy Fawkes day, only in the warm.). Poor him, so pathetic. But I missed the first part of that series! cries This is what you get when you refuse to watch a channel for taking Yu-Gi-Oh! off - you miss it's return! sobs). Wow, that was rambling and off topic. Like the story. But why does Kura have it? Ah... all will be revealed in time... as soon as I get over the lousy writer's block that kicked in about half-way through this chapter, resulting in the amazing crappiness. The whole shadow- thing was supposed to be wrapped up in this one, but it got too long and I couldn't think how to deal with it...
All those who do/did latin at school (like me TT;;;) should get the Petire thing. If not, latin lesson coming up . The latin word for fight is petit. Stick it in it's infinitive form - to fight - you get petire. And the reason it's called Petire? Think back (or forward, or sideways in my case, being in the middle of that series.) to Battle City. Get it?