Fingers of Love

A Song by Crowded House

Italics - Lyrics

Black - Any Narrative

I remember being a child, and first learning shamanism, spirit magic. I used to call upon the magic and for a moment, it seemed as though my brow, throat, hands, chest, all of my being was being touched by an unseen force; by many apparitions I could not see. As they caressed my child-body, it seemed to me like the touch of the only person I knew cared for me – my mother. After her death, I knew that feeling of love without breadth or height from no other source, except in that instant while working shamanism. As a child I called the sensation 'fingers of love', and even in my adulthood whenever I cast the Ra-tilt, a spell that calls power directly from my soul, I always imagine that one set of ethereal fingers is my mother's – one hand cradling my head and the other hand over my heart.

Zelgadis Greywers

Can you imagine that
An itch too sensitive to scratch
The light that falls through the cracks
An insect too delicate to catch

He stood at the mouth of a valley. The walls of the valley were deep green against the lunar silver sky line. The peaks were too violent to bother negotiating with, so the only way to cross to the other side was to run through the tall grass; grass that was tall enough to swallow the legs of a man as he ran.

The sleeping army did not bother him. These men did not sleep on their sword hilts, but simply set them aside as they rested. The army occupying the depths of these mountains was not about to come upon an enemy, and if they were – they were hopelessly unprepared.

His rough jade fingers clenched around his weapon. With their inattention, maybe he would not need to draw it.

Zelgadis stood at the base of the valley now. With the battleground ahead of him, if it was indeed to become a battleground, he felt easy. He felt as though at last there would be an end to his journey instead of the path he always felt extended forever.

I hear the endless murmur
Every blade of grass that shivers in the breeze
And the sound that comes to carry me
Across the land and over the sea

Zelgadis leaned over the pair of boots he was shining. They belonged to his uncle, the Duke, and it was his job to shine them – one of the few chores a child of seven could be trusted with. The polish he was using was pitch black and had unfortunately stained the tips of his usually flesh coloured skin dusty black. When he was finished this task, he would go brush down his favourite hunting dog. The dog was not his of course, but he loved it and wanted to make sure that it was well taken care of.

Zelgadis did not feel as though he was given an unreasonable share of chores to do around the keep. He did not feel that way at all. Learning new skills and exercising them were both experiences he found very satisfying. Since his mother's death, he had come to live with his uncle, the Duke, and cousin Leal. It was not a hard life. His uncle was kind to him and allowed him a place in his house-hold, even giving him the same kind of work as Leal, though Zelgadis had never actually seen Leal complete any of the tasks he was given.

Zel was still so very young, and still considered a child by most accounts. There was one person who did not seem to regard him as a child at all – the Red Priest. Zelgadis had known him all his life and idolized him for his talents and knowledge. Even though the Priest's eyes never opened, he was the personification of mystery and magic – especially to a little boy who didn't really feel as though he had much to look forward to.

The boots looked perfect now, and Zel picked them up to take them back to his uncle's chambers. On his way, he heard that the Red Priest had come. Zel was excited and ran the rest of the way, eager to see his hero sooner.

As he was passing through the main corridor he saw another thing that made him happy at the keep – his father's sword. It was mounted on the wall outside the main hall, a testament that his father had once been a swordsman for his kingdom. Zel examined its sharp blade – one day it would be his. The sword signified another of Zel's wishes, for he wanted someday to be a swordsman of infinite prowess. The fact that his father had been good with a blade encouraged him more than if he had twenty tutors claiming his genius in the art. Right now he was only allowed to practice with a wooden sword, which was the same honour Leal was given, but since Zelgadis never neglected his chores, he never got as much practice as Leal.

Zel heard voices as he passed the main hall – and then as he passed the doorway he was suddenly being called into the room by his uncle.

"Hai," he said entering immediately when called.

"I don't see why you would want him Rezo-sama," Leal said in a high pitched voice.

Leal was young, young like Zelgadis, and his rival in everything. He was blonde, unlike Zel who was dark, and the heir to a dukedom, unlike Zel who was nobody. Leal never let Zelgadis forget that he was nobody, and never hesitated in making speeches regarding Zel's inadequacy in front of him - to Zel's humiliation. What made it worse for Zel was that there was no one intimate enough with him to tell him that what Leal claimed was false. Zel was left to believe that this was what everyone thought of him.

"He's short for his age," Leal said, "and he spends much of his time in the wilds like he's some sort of animal. Wouldn't you rather have someone of noble blood assisting in your work? Father could easily spare me."

The Red Priest, at first, didn't say anything to the supplication. Instead an amused half smile betrayed his feelings. "My apologies young lord, but you have duties here that I cannot take you from."

It was then that Rezo the Red Priest stood and approached Zelgadis. He touched him on his shoulder as though he could see him and asked, "Would you like to come assist me in my laboratory Zelgadis?"

Zel dropped his uncle's boots.

And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I can't look back
Fingers of love move down

The sky over the valley was beginning to darken, and the air was beginning to feel moist. Far, at the other end of the deep earth was the mouth of a cave. Zelgadis had heard that the original Claire Bible had been locked away in a chamber here after the explosion at Dragon's Peak. It was his only hope to cure his stone flesh, and his demon spirit. It might not be there after all. He did not know if it would be there for a certainty. It could just be a rumour.

There was only this stretch of land to cover – only this much further to travel and then he would know whether or not it was possible to transform himself back into a human.

The grass rustled around his fingers that lay weakly by his sides. As he looked down, he could see that the grass was touching him, but he could not feel it. His skin would not allow him to feel something so gentle. His heart pulsed as never before at his desire to feel human again.

He had wanted power. That was how he became the chimera it was practically impossible to kill – as no fire could scald him and no blade could break him. In his adulthood, his jade skin marked him forever as a person who sacrificed their humanity to be undefeatable.

Colour is its own reward
Colour is its own reward
The chiming of a perfect chord
Let's go jumping overboard

It was late at night; Rezo did not care if it was night or day when he worked. Rezo's laboratory was dug so deep in the ground that Zel had not been outside for months.

He watched the Red Priest carefully. The number of spells he had at his command was unbelievable, especially to a young boy who knew the man's reputation. Rezo was one of the five wise men of the age, and been called by many as 'virtuous'. He seemed to have the power to cure any disease, create any magical item, any magical creature, and possessed a perfect understanding of white magic, black magic, and shamanism – and so many other talents that Zel could not keep up with his master. This was particularly daunting, because even though his master was indeed blind, it seemed to Zelgadis that he could see so much more than mere eye-sight would allow him.

It wasn't long before Zel discovered that the thing Rezo sought, the thing he studied for, and killed himself for was only a cure for his blindness. Zel wondered frequently if he was mad, for his zeal for his dearest wish was unquenchable.

Rezo taught Zel shamanism, and soon it consumed Zel as his only passion. Rezo allowed Zel to go outside to practice, as it was a difficult thing to master indoors.

In those times, Zel's feet would find the loneliest, forgotten path and make it his highway. He would hide in the grass and mimic the crickets – learning all the secrets of shamanism from their delicate rhythm. He would murmur quietly to himself the mysteries of his own life that he had memorized; about his mother, about the Red Priest, and about his own dreams.

Into waves of joy and clarity
Your hands come out to rescue me
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps

There was a stirring in the camp before him now. One of the men had seen his approach, and was unfortunately raising the alarm throughout the camp. Zelgadis continued on his path regardless of the commotion. What could they really do to stop him?

Well, for a group that had been so lax about their guard, at the approach of danger they assembled themselves remarkably quickly, and had soon formed a line in which to combat him. The commanding officer had even mounted his horse and was calling something to him over the armored helmets of his men.

"State your business," the commander shouted from behind a steel mask. Zel noticed the commander did not introduce himself, as was the custom.

"I'm passing through to the north," Zel answered, eying the shiny rifles carried by the troop, and not really interesting himself in correcting the man's rudeness.

"Turn around and go back where you came from," the commander shouted back.

"I have no intention of turning around," Zel said firmly. "I assure you that your army is hardly an obstacle, as I will do what I must to pass you."

"Don't be ridiculous! You are greatly outnumbered!" the commander laughed.

Zel eyed a healthy oak tree over his right shoulder. Ah, that will work nicely, he thought.

"Wind which blows across eternity," Zel breathed as he brought his hands into his chest. The sensation of shamanism came out to first stoke his cheek and then his side, bringing voice to his breath – he continued the spell. "Gather in my hands and become my strength. BRAM GUSH!" Zel pulled his hands as though he was holding an invisible bow and arrow, but white light formed where the arrow would have been. He suddenly turned his body right and triggered the arrow to fly. His aim was true as he hit the tree directly. It seemed as though gigantic unseen claws had reached out and shredded the branches and trunk. The crack sounded like thunder, and Zel had accomplished what he set out to. Every man in the battalion saw the tree laying in shredded pieces sprawled across the plains, almost as though the petals of a giant rose had been dropped there.

"Do you still want to fight me?" Zel asked – feeling the embodiment of power retreating from his body and into the astral plane.

"He's a demon!" one of the men called out, and soon they were all shouting something like that in what seemed to Zel as tribe of wild boars.

"Bring forth the magicians!" the commander ordered.

Zel frowned. That had been something he did not expect, and before he knew it there were eight sorcerers standing at the forefront of the line and then all of them were shouting, "FIREBALL!"

Zel had to respond.

And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere

Even through his stone skin he could feel the power of magic moving over him and working for him, as he cast a Flare Arrow. He couldn't feel the grass around his legs, or even the fabric of his clothing brushing against him, but he could still feel the ground under his feet and the rapture of shamanism as he cast his spells.

One of the magicians was carrying a staff; it had a trinket on it that jingled softly as he brought it down.

Zel stiffened. It sounded exactly like the ringing of the Red Priest's staff. The spirit fingers that fueled his magic became claws to hurt Zel, to destroy the holy atmosphere that cradled his body. It was as if black energy, black memories, ripped through the white power of his soul. Zel snapped his head toward the sound, but luckily Zel realized that the man was not a reincarnation of Rezo.

Zel retaliated and sent a Fireball towards the magician without a backward glance.

The magician's staff caused Zel to recall the last moments of the Red Priest's life; the man would do anything for his cure. How could Rezo have sought for his own desires before the well-being of mankind? He would have destroyed the world.

Zel drew his sword, "ASTRAL VINE!"

Zel himself could not ignore the obvious situation. His dilemma left him in nearly the same position as the Red Priest had once been in. He knew it. He was not Rezo was he? He was himself – wasn't he?

An unexpected Freeze Arrow nearly caught him in the back. He needed to pay more attention to the battle. As he lit up the sky with his magic, Zel allowed himself to forget his conflict and again brought the weight of his conquest onto his shoulders. He had to fight.

There is time yet
Fall by the way
From the cradle to the grave
From a palace to the gutter
Beneath the dying waves of the sun
Lie fingers of love

"Are you very good with a blade Zelgadis-chan," Leal asked in a condescending tone. "If you're very good, we should have a match."

Zel had not been back to visit his uncle and cousin since he had left nearly a decade ago. He knew that Rezo had not been back. Rezo had not left the tower in all that time, nor had he come with Zel this time. It seemed that the Red Priest's absence had been noticed since the duke asked Zel many questions as to the whereabouts of the Red Priest as no one had heard anything of him since he had asked Zel to assist him in his experiments. Zel answered the questions as vaguely as possible, knowing that Rezo would not want the information shared if it could be avoided.

Zel would not have come either, except that his uncle had the sword that his father had left him, which he could claim when he reached manhood. As he had no memory of his father at all, Zel came to retrieve the sword as soon as Rezo absently made the comment, "You're no longer a child."

Now he held the blade between his fingers testing its weight and sharpness with his cousin inviting him to duel with him. The hilt looked beautiful and strong. On the whole, the blade looked to be something Zel could be proud carrying in his father's stead, and he was pleased with it.

"It will just be a fun duel," Leal said pulling Zel's attention from the blade. "Nothing too serious. I've been practicing quite a bit myself." He unsheathed his own sword and continued, "I'm to command a guard next year as long as my sensei says that I am strong enough. Father says I'll be quite good."

"Well, let's do this then," Zel said, bringing himself into combat position.

Leal matched him and they began.

Zel looked at his cousin across their two blades. Leal's blond hair was falling in one eye, but his eye brows were pulled together tightly, and his teeth were ground together. Suddenly, Leal let out a faint battle call and rushed Zel. Zel pushed and tried hard to fight off his attacker matching steel with steel, but under such an aggressive attack . . . Zel began to wonder exactly what Leal had meant when he said it would be friendly. Zel managed to push his cousin off, and tried to change his posture to an offensive one instead of staying purely defensive.

"Argh," Zel grunted, as he felt a hot pain in his left forearm. Sparing a quick glance to assess the damage, he saw that Leal had drawn his blood. "What are you doing?" Zel cried.

"We're sparring!" his cousin answered, coming at him even more viciously than before.

"Sparring!" Zel exclaimed and suddenly his other forearm was bleeding also. He hadn't been able to block that last attack. "How dare you?" he shouted – aiming at Leal with unconcealed rage.

They came at each other . . .

CRASH!

Zel turned around to see if he had hurt Leal, as they had now changed positions on the scale.

Leal was smiling smugly. "Well, I guess we can't play anymore," he said turning on his heal and strutting out.

Why? Zel didn't understand.

Then he saw it. On the ground was the greater part of his father's sword – now separate from the hilt. Their strike had broken it. Zel sunk to his knees nursing his bleeding arms and feeling . . . crestfallen beyond imagination.

Through waves of joy and clarity
A fallen angel walked on the sea
And I'm playing in the shallow water
Laughing while the mad dog sleeps

"I must be strong," Zel said. He was in the forest now. He had left the keep with his bandaged arms, uninterested in ever going there again. He had never felt so helpless and stupid in his life. Damn him! He had a borrowed sword in his hand and he was practicing fiercely. Shamanism had been his passion before, but he could not allow himself to fare so badly in a sword fight . . . and to lose his father's sword in such a way . . . he mustn't think about that . . . he had to work harder than ever. This must never happen again.

"What are you doing Zelgadis?" a voice behind him asked. "I've never seen you like this before."

Zel looked up and saw the Red Priest standing before him. Zel wanted to tell Rezo what happened in his fight with Leal, but dared not, lest he appear weak in Rezo's eyes. Instead he told him about breaking his father's sword and his desire for power. Even the emotion was surging inside him and the hurt welling up to hot tears – he stopped himself. He would never let anyone see him cry. That was something he'd decided for himself ages ago.

"How did you break it?" Rezo asked calmly. "It could easily be mended."

Zel realized now that his story did not make any sense at all. He wouldn't be able to hide the truth from the Red Priest. "Leal asked me to spar with him," Zel paused, gathering his breath for what he was about to say. "I was beaten and the blade broke."

"That would explain why you are wounded as well," Rezo said.

Zel shook his head.

"Would you like to be powerful Zelgadis? Is that what you're seeking?" Rezo asked in a serious tone.

"I don't want anyone to ever beat me like that again!" he shouted in his white-hot rage.

"Then help me look for the Philosopher's Stone. In exchange I will give you what you seek."

Zel had seen Rezo perform many miracles, and he believed without any doubts at all, that this was something the Red Priest was completely capable of doing.

He nodded.

Then the jangle of Rezo's staff came down and Rezo recited the words to the spell – a spell Zel could never remember the words to. His body began to change; his blood quickened, and his mind lapsed as he knew it would, every part of him must change. He felt dizzy, like he was about to faint.

As the heat of the spell passed, Zelgadis brought a hand up to touch his burning forehead. His skin was not skin. It was hard like stone with heavy bulges encased in his flesh. His skin! As he brought his hands into view, he saw that his fingers and arms were green. Zel remembered one room in Rezo's mansion in which he kept chimera's in test-tubes, and suddenly he remembered a specific experiment in which the Red Priest had combined the elements of a stone golem, a brau demon, and boar . . .

Zelgadis' mouth hung open, the saliva in his mouth quickly drying as he breathed deeply – and he understood.

He was the boar.

The horror of the moment was beyond him as the pettiness of his desires came upon him. How could he have been so petty . . . it was only a sword fight . . . it didn't matter much . . . and now . . .

"What have you done to me?" Zel cried.

"Only what you asked me to do," Rezo said, turning away. "Don't forget our bargain."

Zel watched the Red Priest go, as sorrow claimed his heart and drove out any thoughts of peace . . . and the tears rolled down his cheeks . . . but he could not feel them . . .

And I can't look up
Fingers of love move down
And I won't be hit
Fingers of love move everywhere

Zel threw himself into the air and brought their commanding officer off his horse and onto the ground. In an instant he had the man pinned under his weight.

"Hold off," Zel hollered, "unless you want your commander dead."

The scarlet blade of his sword was pinned to the man's throat – and Zel removed his helmet, but was not startled enough by the man underneath the helmet to drop his sword or lose his position.

"Leal," Zel said.

At the recognition of his cousin, Zel remembered his past dilemma. He had been willing to do anything at that moment when Rezo approached him in the forest to become a powerful swordsman, and the price had been something he had never wished to pay. Then Zel considered Rezo, and his fate over the desire for a cure . . .

"You cannot cross this valley," the man said, even with Zel's sword at his throat.

"Damn you," Zel screamed. "Why the hell should I have to pass you! Why should you be the one in my way when I'm this close?" Zel lifted his fist to strike the man pinned beneath him.

His cousin didn't flinch even under the threat of being hit with that rock hand. He stared back at Zel with the same look in his eyes that Zel had seen so long ago when they faced each other across steel.

"How I've hated you," Zel hissed, his anger burning stronger than ever. "What will I do now if you won't let me cross this valley? Should I break you and your entire army? Should I show you what a demon really is and simply pass you and ignore that you will come after me?"

"You should turn around and never come back to this place," Leal said – his eyes not changing.

"How could I possibly obey you?"

"You're right though, I will have to send my army after you. I have no idea who or what you are, but even if you kill me, every last man through the ranks will have to obey the order to follow you and eventually kill you," Leal smirked.

"Then I'll have to kill every last one of you now," Zel said, gritting his teeth and preparing himself for what he would have to do. He aggressively brought the point of his sword to Leal's throat.

Jangle – the sound split the air around Zelgadis and brought his head up.

He had not killed the magician with the staff. His breath came short. Did he truly wish to be the same as the Red Priest?

"Damn you Rezo."

There is time yet
For you to find me
And all I want
Fingers of love move down