Disclaimer: Vision of Escaflowne and its characters and likeliness is copyrighted to its respective company(ies). But the characters I created and this story is copyrighted to me.
Rating: PG-13
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FATES' JUDGEMENT
By Cosmos (ml_eclipse@hotmail.com)
Chapter 8: Misperception
The wind combed through her short sandy coloured hair as she ran away from the danger that sought her life, leaving behind a young stranger to make a last stand against the foe. Her mind was plagued with guilt, knowing that perhaps she had left him to die alone. But he had refused her help. He was the one who forced her to run as she now ran. Despite fear of these strange men hunting her, and fear of him, she soon realized in her heart that she wanted no harm to befall on him; besides, he was the one who saved her life.
Soon, she slowed down to a hesitant jog, and then halted altogether. Whatever might be, whatever threat awaited, she could not allow anyone to die for her—not like this. With firm resolution, she spun around and raced quickly back to the warehouse, where a great confrontation was playing out. Just as she reached within view of the building, she saw flashes of light through the window she climbed down only minutes before; then she heard terrible groans and rumbles with wood and brick rubbing against each other as the building's infrastructure plummeted to the distant ground, dragging any unfortunate souls that remained within its belly along with it to oblivion.
It was but an instant; yet it felt as if all eternity was playing out before her eyes. The horrific image reflected off her glistening pupils as fear and anguish flooded her shocked body like an unstoppable hurricane. No, I'm too late!
"VAAANNNN!!!!!" she screamed while tears coursed unnoticed down her pale cheeks.
Contrasted against the purple face of an awakening horizon was the silhouette of a solitary individual rummaging through massive mounds of debris, remnants of a once sturdy building. With blistering hands (the result of long hours of pulling and hauling away rough pieces of wood and brick), Hitomi picked her way through the destruction toward the heart of the chaos in hopes that she might still find him alive. Despite her incredible exhaustion of both mind and body, she continued her purpose with abiding determination. Finally, after shoving away a large remnant of a concrete wall, she noticed something crimson through a small opening further within the depths of the wreckage. Reaching in with one hand, she stretched with all her might to reach the object that caught her attention. Her fingertips brushed against a soft fabric that felt all too familiar. After a slight struggle, she managed to grab hold of a small tip of the object and pulled it out. She gasped in shock at the item she rescued from within the rubble.
It was a shirt; a sleeveless red shirt all smouldered in dust and blood and torn to bare recognition…but she knew…it was his.
Tears slipped down her grief stricken face as she held the piece of clothing tight to her chest, and with eyes squeezed shut, struggled alone against the intense emotional chaos now ravaging her heart.
While the earthbound mortal cried her tears of anguish, high above her, a short distance away—within the cover of clouds slowly painted by the colours of early morn—an angel struggled against the rising subconscious to maintain flight. His life rained down from his wounds upon the mortal world.
Knowing his body would soon give up on him, Van frantically searched for an area to take refuge, all the while struggling to keep his vision clear and focused. However, all the places he flew over were either too exposed or too dark to provide secure coverage. With each wing beat, pain wrought havoc on his shattered body and mind. Suddenly, the air current shifted. The sky quickly became distant. The ground rushed up to meet his inevitably disastrous plummet. Van desperately resisted the pull of gravity, and that of death, but to no avail. Before he realized it, all became dark; he lost all senses of his surroundings and all visions of the world. In this oblivion, he could feel his mind floating weightlessly in a vacuum devoid of pain, grief, and desire. Perhaps, finally, he has reached his fate.
On the ground, beside a large human-made pond, a group of ruffians gathered around a small fire. The light of the flames danced merrily on their somber faces to reveal men of youthful age ranging from thirteen to late twenties. The oldest man wore a familiar green bandanna around his short dark brown hair. Within the heart of the fire laid a small aluminum pot, which was overly dented and terribly scratched from excessive use. Each man had a haggard, mournful expression that did not at all reminisce the cruel sinister looks of skilled thieves one would imagine stalking the city's shadows. Instead, uncertainty seemed to have dimmed their spirits. They were at loss for purpose in this life. Born into a world that quickly grew tired of them, struggling to survive in a society that rejected them, one wondered what hopes they had in their hearts that drove them to live each day.
"Hey, Landen," the man wearing the bandanna broke the silence, "is the sludge done yet?"
An adolescent of about eighteen stood up and began to approach the fire. He crouched down at its edge and looked into the small pot. Noticing that the soup was boiling profusely, he replied, "Guess so." Just as he was about to reach out with an old dirty glove he found somewhere in a nearby refuse, a loud splash erupted from the pond.
All their attentions were immediately focused on the body of water, whose surface now rippled violently by the force that disrupted its calm face.
"What the hell?!" someone cried out.
"Stay put," one of the older men ordered.
"But Rad."
"Look," Rad said again as he slowly approached the water's edge, "I said don't come any closer. It might be dangerous."
"Then why are you getting closer?" a boy of thirteen questioned innocently.
"Mmmrrr," Rad growled at the youngster.
Turning around, he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see what large object had fallen into their pond. Suddenly, he caught sight of a hand reaching out of the water before sinking beneath the surface once again. Without allowing himself a moment's hesitation, Rad quickly pulled off his shoes and jumped in.
"Rad?! What are you doing?" one of his companions shouted alarmingly.
They watched the dying ripples of the pond's surface in great apprehension. Their stomachs twisted into knots as they waited for their leader to resurface, while the minute-hand ticked by five minutes.
"Man! I can't stand this. I'm going in after him," Landen cried out as he began to run toward the pond, simultaneously removing his shoes. But before he was able to remove the second shoe, Rad erupted from the surface of the water dragging with him another individual whose features were indiscernible in the lavender hue of early morning. Pulling with all his strength, Rad hauled the unconscious stranger toward the shore and out of the water.
Resting on his knees, he gave a curious glance over to the silent form of the person he just rescued lying motionless beside him. The stranger's face was turned toward the ground.
"Who is he?" the thirteen year-old asked curiously as he approached the motionless form.
"Hey, don't get too close Arik," an older man cautioned him. "He may still be alive."
"Naw," Arik said, waving aside the caution. "No one could have survived such a fall. He is probably dead." Arik bent down to grab the stranger by the shoulder and turned him over onto his back. The distant light of the fire quickly lapped at his face to reveal a familiar foe they faced once before.
"What the—" Arik cried out in surprise, as he took a step back. He could hear the other men around him gasped, equally surprised at their finding.
With a frown, Rad said, "It's him."
"Yeah," another man vigilantly approached, "he's that guy with the sword we tried to steal. You better get away from him Arik."
"Aw, don't worry Theo," Arik replied in a slightly uneasy tone as he tried to regain his composure. "Look," he poked the motionless stranger in the arm, "he's as dead as a doorknob." Turning around, he gave his friend a comical grin.
Suddenly, he felt something grab his wrist. Before he realized what was happening, the sky and earth exchanged places as he found himself flying through the air to land heavily (and painfully) on his back on the other side of the stranger.
"Augh!" Arik gasped in pain with the wind knocked out of him. Turning around, he saw the stranger glare at him with deadly garnet eyes. Quickly forgetting the soreness of his back, the young adolescent scrambled backward in an attempt to distance himself from this dangerous warrior.
The group of men watched in a widening circle as Van struggled desperately to gather his feet under him. He could barely make out these men through blurry visions of fatigue, but he was determine not to die lying down. In his exhaustion he failed to sense Rad's presence to his left. Reaching out a hand stained with his own blood, Van grasped the hilt of his sword and painfully pulled it out of its scabbard.
None of the men moved; even Rad remained in his silent position watching the admirable strength and determination this stranger was showing in his struggle to survive. With the brightening skyline behind him, Van's image did not portray that of a great and fierce warrior; instead, the pale features of his face, the somber lines of his lips, the lifeless expression of his dying eyes, all conveyed the picture of a solitary individual who has fought a long and lonely battle against fate, and who would die with that loneliness and sorrow for which he was imprisoned. Rad watched this young man's movement with great sympathy, noticing each painful, strenuous movement the stranger made to pull out his weapon.
He refuses to die, Rad thought in amazement and sympathy. Even as death pulls at his soul, he refuses to let go of this world. Such spirit. Such will.
"You," Van struggled to speak even as his strength began to wane, "you…will not…defeat me." He took a staggering step forward but then collapsed onto one knee in exhaustion. Instinctively, he planted the blade of his magnificent sword into the hard earth to support his failing body from completely crumbling to the ground. From the wounds on his arm flowed life's river as it coursed down his hand onto the silver face of Etheria's royal sword. Through the shadows of his dark bangs falling over his eyes, he spoke in a tone that conveyed strength, despite his physical deterioration.
"Do not think I will die so easily," Van whispered. "I will fight…I will fight…" He could feel himself fading fast, "I will fight…until the end." He collapsed into complete darkness.
A minute's hand passed in silence before anyone dared to move. The small group of men stared at the fallen soldier in awe and confusion. Slowly, Rad approached Van's motionless form and gave him a gentle nudge with his foot to see if the stranger was still conscious. With no apparent response, Rad bent down to place two fingers on the young man's neck to detect for any pulse.
"So," Arik spoke up at a distance, "is he dead now?"
With a concerned frown, Rad replied, "No, he's just unconscious."
"Then we should get out of here before he wakes up again."
"No," spoke Rad, "if we leave him here like this he will surely die."
"Yeah, well if he wakes up we will surely die!" Arik cried.
"You idiot!" Landen slapped him in the back of the head. "You sound like such a wimp you know?"
"Hey, lay off Landen! I don't see you standing near him."
"Enough you two!" Rad said. "He is seriously injured and we know we can't leave him like this. It is only right that we try to save his life." Turning toward another man with short midnight blue hair standing silently near Landen, Rad commanded, "Arius, grab a pale of water and boil it on the fire. Theo, you grab some cloths hanging by the far tree and put those in with the water."
"Why?" Theo asked bewilderingly.
"To disinfect the fabric before we can use it to clean his wounds."
Nodding, Theo quickly followed Arius back to their camp. Turning toward the two men nearest to him, Rad said, "Sythe, Cade, come help me with him will yah?"
"Sure thing."
With Rad and Sythe supporting Van on both sides and Cade carrying his legs, the three oldest men lifted his body up and carried him toward the fire.
As they approached the main campfire, Rad called out to Arik, "Hey, get a blanket down close to the fire will you, Arik? So that we can set him down." As Arik ran ahead he heard Rad add, "And be quick about it. This guy isn't as light as he looks."
Arik responded without turning around, "I'm not surprise since he's as tall as you."
The men set Van down gently onto a well-worn blanket laid near the warm flames of the open fire. With the pale of water boiling nearby, Rad and the others went to work mending the deep wounds on his back and chest using the few resources they had on hand.
It would be the late afternoon sun that Van found himself awakening to. At first, all he could see were a mosaic of colours moving back and forth above him. He closed his eyes momentarily to allow the throbbing in his head to subside before opening them again. His vision finally cleared after much blinking, and what he saw startled him. He was surrounded on all sides by the very men he encountered on his first night to the mortal world, but he quickly noticed that most of the men paid him little attention as they went about their business. Nonetheless, all his training caused him to immediately react by reaching for his sword, but to his horror it was not there.
"Looking for this?" someone spoke to him from the right.
Snapping his attention to the owner of the voice, Van glared with narrowed eyes at Rad standing before him with the sheathed sword in his right hand.
Smirking, he said, "A nice piece of metal you have here."
Van remained silent.
Rad continued, unaffected by Van's lack of response, "Yup, excellent craftsmanship, if I do say so myself. I have never before seen such a weapon before." He turned the sword around in his hand as he analyzed the intricate details on the scabbard, which covered the naked blade within. Finally resting his eyes on the pure gold hilt of the sword, Rad could not resist the urge to test his grip on the blade.
Van watched with angry eyes as Rad tainted his sword by gripping the hilt and pulling out the beautiful, shining cold blade from its scabbard. The young Etherian could feel rage burning throughout his body like a high fever. How dare this mortal hold the royal sword of Etheria!
Van attempted to get up and fight for the return of his sword, but his shattered body remained unwilling to obey his command. Damn this weak body! Van thought in frustration. If I'm not this injured, this fool will surely not be standing right now, let alone hold my treasured sword!
Ignoring the fiery pair of eyes watching him, Rad kept his attention on the blade in front of him. Taking swipes at the empty air, Rad listened with much excitement to the high-pitch sound the blade made as it cut cleanly through the still air. Finally, after appeasing his desire to take this magnificent sword for a test run, he returned the blade back into its shelter. Then he returned his attention to the young man staring fiercely at him with deadly garnet eyes.
Chuckling lightly, Rad said, "Hey, don't take it so harshly, I was only seeing how good the blade was."
"Humph," Van scoffed. "I'm sure you were just seeing how much it would fetch for you on the market."
Rad frowned in slight irritation. "Look, we saved your life here. I would appreciate it if you could show more gratitude."
He threw Van's sword to him, which Van easily caught. This gesture was rather unexpected. Just then Van noticed something different about this man that he failed to detect earlier. He voiced his surprise, "You sound different. You are not speaking in that strange tongue I heard the first time we met."
"Hmm?" Rad raised a perplexed eyebrow and then said with a light laugh, "Oh, you mean the garbled speech? Well, we only use that to intimidate those we try to rob. It is amusing to see how people become scared of their own imagination. It worked well with most of the people we try to steal from, with the exception of you."
Ignoring the last addition, Van queried, "What do you mean?"
Rad explained, "We see what we want to see; we understand what we want to hear. In people's mind, even the most open one, there are predetermined images of each other. Appearance and character go hand-in-hand in these deceptive pictures. A dirty, ragged individual would instantly be assumed ill-mannered and witless, condemned to his fate because of his own foolish actions. While a well-preened individual would be highly esteemed, assumed to be trustworthy and responsible. Realistically, the characters can easily be reversed while the appearances remain unchanged. In an attempt to avoid the development of violence, we use these false images to disperse our victim's will to fight. Victim, I hate to use that word. It sounds so harsh." Here Rad paused to look deeply into Van's eyes. At length, he continued, "We steal out of necessity, not out of want. You may think this reason is an excuse to hide our criminal act, but should you know our lives' circumstances, you will realize it is the truth.
Van spoke, "I should still believe it to be an excuse. If one is willing, there is always a way to earn an honest living."
"Perhaps and perhaps not. Had a child grown up on his parent's foundation, then there would be a way to earn an honest living; but if the child was orphaned at the age of three then what opportunity could this child afford to gain work and get paid. Of course, not everyone is fated to live as we do. There are those who voluntarily choose the dark path. But we are not them."
This time, Van kept his silence. Whether Rad had convinced him of their innocence was uncertain, but undoubtedly Van was affected by what had passed between them.
Rad continued, "Your sword would have fetched us enough money on the market to feed us for an entire week, perhaps even longer. Seeing that you were alone we had assumed you would be an easy target." Giving Van a friendly smirk, Rad added, "But it seemed that we greatly underestimated your…abilities." Suddenly realizing that had yet to introduce himself, he said, "By the way, my name is Rad Edison."
He crouched beside Van and extended a hand, which Van only glanced briefly with suspicion before he spoke.
"I'm Van Fanel," he said without taking the other man's hand.
Undeterred by the cold gesture, Rad shrugged and withdrew his hand but remained where he was. Giving the younger man a long gaze, Rad suddenly asked seriously, "What happened to you last night?"
Van narrowed his eyes and looked away while grumbling out, "Nothing of interest."
"I see." Standing back up again, Rad looked down and said, "Whatever it was, I'd say it was a hell of a battle for you to sustain such degrees of injuries. Anyway, it will take you at least five days to completely heal."
Van smirked as he thought, Give me one and I'll be out of here.
"But it will probably be even longer if we don't get you better medical attention," Rad continued, oblivious to the expression on the younger man's face. "We will ask Angerona to drop by here later. She'll be able to help you."
Van looked up curiously. "Angerona?"
"Yeah, she's the doctor at the city's main hospital. She spends most of her evenings after work here to see to people like us."
"Like us?"
Rad gave Van a solemn gaze as he responded, "Those everyone else has forgotten."
He watched gravely as the older man departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Van turned his head aside to look at the crystalline pond a few meters away. "Angerona," he whispered to himself. "That name…"
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Not a very eventful chapter, I admit, but things will begin to pick up after this.
Info:
Name Angerona is pronounced "ann-jer-roe-na" (mythologically, she is the Roman Goddess of death and silence)
7 Orphans introduced here:
Rad (leader; age: 29 years)
Sythe (age: 25 years) = pronounced "Sigh-th"
Cade (age: 22 years)
Landen (age: 18 years)
Arius (age: 15 years)
Theo (age: 15 years)
Arik (age: 13 years)
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Next: Chapter 9: "Angerona"
Cosmos 2004