Shattered
Bloody Beginnings: Fanelia Healed
The first streak of sun bit the edge of the gentle slopes. Goat-like creatures leapt towards the signs of morning, eager for the warmth. A light fog tickled their bodies. The clouds above the peaks reflected a delicate pink, breaking apart. Flowers stretched and opened their petals for food. Birds struck a tuneless song, dancing among the sun's rays, their soft feathers drifting to the ground.
Van Fanel watched the morning unfolding much as he watched anything – hungrily, willing the brightness to become a part of him. A small bird, yellow and brown, landed near him, chattering its welcome. Van's smile and outstretched hand earned him a scolding as the bird fluttered back to its companions. He leaned back, his arms folded behind his head, lazily chewing a thin blade of grass. The sun continued its climb, spilling its golden hands down the hill, across his lithe body, and towards the city below.
From Van's position, he could not see Fanelia, though he knew it was just below him. The city, once beautiful and elegant, was burned to the ground by Dilandau. Van had returned to this place, his home, and taken his place as king. Even with such dedicated subjects, rebuilding Fanelia to achieve greater glory than before it burned was no simple task. The five-year anniversary was upon them, today. Five years since the girl from the Mystic Moon had vanished. Five years since the rebuilding had begun.
A smile tugged his lips as Van remembered Hitomi. She had been so fond of this place… and of him. He once wondered if things could have turned out differently. If she were still here, would he have a queen, perhaps children? Now, Van's thoughts flickered through memories, already fading. He couldn't forget his mystical Hitomi, but no longer could he quite recall the way her lips perked up in a smile or that mischievous glint in her eyes that always meant trouble.
"Sir… King Van, sir…" a voice rumbled beside him. Van sat up and greeted the guard puffing up the steep hill. The man was dressed in his decorative armor, catching the rising sun and shattering it in hundreds of directions. Van blinked at his mirrored appearance and carefully shaded his eyes.
"Yes, friend?" he asked. The guard halted, happy to rest, and grinned. It was common for Van to address his people, the guards, everyone, as "friend." The kingdom found a surprising amount of respect for such a king and Van unknowingly won over many peasants with his easy manner and boyish smile.
"King Van, your advisors have sent me to request you prepare for the ceremonies this afternoon, sire," the man said and waved a hand behind him. "I have prepared your horse… he's waiting below the hill."
Van smirked knowingly. "How long did it take you to catch the creature?" he asked, good-naturedly. The guard simply shrugged, obviously eager to return to the festivities. Van shrugged and stood up. "Well, then, off you go, friend. Tell them I'm on my way." The guard nodded and began sliding down the slope. Van paused a moment, then turned away from Fanelia and the guard, and climbed higher. The dewy grass gave no support, but he hardly minded. He slid down the other side of a peak, shielded from the city's eyes and looked out over the forests and plains before him. Far in the distance, he could see another city.
Lifting his face to the sun, he drank in the morning, stretching his arms to either side. Then, he quickly tossed his shirt onto a worn rock and released his hold on his wings. They burst from his back, feathers drifting off towards the city in the distance.
"Much better," Van whispered to himself, shaking his wings out and reaching towards the clouds with his arms. He found his wings were more and more difficult to contain, his mental barriers requiring almost constant attention. If he freed them often enough, here, there was no problem. Van relaxed and collapsed on the grass with a joyful sigh. He heard the crunching of feet on gravel behind him and scrambled back up, willing his wings away.
By the time his advisor crested the hill, he was brushing himself off and slipping down the crest. The man squinted at him.
"Noon is not so far from morning as you may believe, King Van," he said. Van snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Don't be philosophical, Milan. I've got too much to prepare for!" he grinned and bounced down the steep slope, to a stake in the ground. "Aw…" he grumbled. Milan stumbled next to him, shooting Van a rude look and pointing towards two brown horses.
"I expected that beast of yours to have run off again. I sent a few guards around to capture him. Now, King Van, you must return to the castle and prepare for the ceremonies, noon is just hours away and…" Milan halted as Van's hand waved in his face.
"Milan, I'll be there, on time. After all, it's my kingdom."
Milan blinked slowly, heading towards his animal. "Fine, my friend. I expect you are going after that horse of yours."
The light poured through the stained glass, coloring the faces of the gentlemen that sat around Van. He was dressed in crushed velvet, red and blue, a long sweeping cape of golden red, and a tunic, with its lovely matching leggings, of blue silk. His crown was heavy with expensive jewels and gold, blindingly bright in the afternoon light.
He couldn't stand it.
Van shifted uncomfortably around, trying to unstuck the silk from his body. It was hot in this closed room, with no opening windows and tightly locked doors. Sweat was dripping off his neck and back, the crown slipping down his forehead every three seconds. The other nobles around him – from Fanelia, the donors, and men from other cities who were interested in the boy king's job of rebuilding the place – looked cool and relaxed in their own thick, stuffy clothing. The unveiling ceremony for the public had taken place moments ago, the crowd leaping in the air, cheering, as Van swept a hand back and announced that the great city of Fanelia was finally back to what it was meant to be.
And, now, after escaping the hot sun, Van was trapped with these pudgy men who came to see what kind of investments they could make in this "new" place, or, if they had already footed much of the bill for the rebuilding, what sort of compensation they could receive. Van hated the idea of money almost as much as he hated holding this kind of meeting.
"King Van, sir, if I may… Your royal coffers must be empty after such extensive renovations. I would suggest, well… we all would suggest giving land, or perhaps titles, to those men that you deem worthy."
Van tried not to gag.
The other men in the room voiced their opinions to, not really talking to Van, but more to Milan and the other advisors that sat besides him. They were wearing plain, thin robes. No fancy capes or heavy velvet. One of them had a bit of satin in his hand – he was stroking it. But it was the only finery in sight among them. Van envied the mousy-looking man with the satin. He ached to be in a cool robe like that, fiddling with something soft, that didn't really matter.
Another man was whining about his financial situation. Van had been sure he repaid the men all ready. In fact, the only thing these men had really done was send people to fix up homes and build shops. There were no real donations from this group… unless they expected something out of it.
"Van!" hissed Milan, elbowing his king in the side. Van hardly felt it through the layers and layers of clothing he was wearing. He cleared his throat, drawing the eyes of all the men in the room on him. Milan was probably annoyed with his dozing off, but Van was sick of this meeting.
"Gentlemen…" he started, noting with satisfaction the number of nobles that had long titles stiffen as he skipped over the formality. "You need no compensation from me, of course. As I have heard, you did everything for this city, this beautiful Fanelia, out of your own hearts. However, Fanelia will have very prosperous marketplaces, so I suggest, if you are in need of money, heaven forbid, you start there," Van tried to stand here, but was held down by Milan's angered eyes.
He sighed. "Of course, I can't let your kindness go from my notice. You'll all be rewarded monetarily. Equally. Milan will draw up agreements for us to pay you as soon as the coffers fill again." Milan looked satisfied now, and Van thought it was time to leave. Then the men started talking again, about how much money it was, or whether they should get a title too. Van groaned under his breath and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
As his eyes lingered on an elaborate stained glass piece situated above him, a scream began to echo in his head. His eyes widened and he tries to shake it out, but only succeeded in knocking his crown to the ground. It clatters onto the stone floor and rolls around, throwing light crazily in every direction. All the noblemen are staring at him now. Van's fingers clutched his hair and he squeezed his eyes shut. The scream stopped.
He gasped and slowly lifted his head, opening his eyes on the started faces of the men surrounding him. A moment later he bit his lip, hard, drawing blood. A fearsome pain was tearing at his lower back, like a claw of some terrific beast was tearing him apart. He couldn't hold back the cry that burst from him, causing several of the men to leap up. Van doubled over and his head cracked on the heavy wooden table. He moaned, but now the pain was gradually ebbing.
And then, for just a moment, it returned, harder, more painful than ever, blinding Van. He opened his mouth to scream, cry for help, something, but was immediately choked off by something thick, something warm, sliding down his throat. His eyes flew open, shock overriding his pain momentarily. His clothes, his skin, everything, drenched in red blood. It was not his own. Van's head snapped up as the pain returned, his eyes searching for the source of the blood. Above him was a shimmering picture of a place that was not Fanelia, but it was only there for a moment. Blood poured over his eyes again, then the picture vanished and the pain was gone and Van stood before the noblemen and his advisors, painted with blood that was not his own. He felt a painful burning on his chest as he struggled to his feet.
As he stood, it seemed to unfreeze everyone in the room. Screams began to fill the air as the fat men tumbled over each other, pounding against the locked doors. Even Milan, Van's most trusted advisor, was fleeing in horror. The doors exploded open, knocking down men, sending them sprawling onto the floor, and guards rushed in, brave, excited. When they saw Van, their sweet king, staggering to his feet, covered in blood, their eyes widened. One shouted in pain, that the king was dying, who had killed the king of Fanelia?
Among the confusion, several of the fallen on the stone felt boots tread over them. One of the advisors was stabbed in the leg, though he would survive, and all Van could think of was getting away from this insane mess. He let go of every shred of pretense and his leapt onto the table. His legs carried him high enough from the table to give himself a lift. The stained glass window shattered and speckled the people below with glass as Van's wings carried him away.
He flew towards the river, the only place he could picture in his mind now. The cool water rushed up at him when he could no longer hold himself in the air. When he hit the surface of the calm river, his wings vanished in the shock of cold, and the blood was whisked away.
It hurt to look at. The pendent was glowing brightly, sparkling and flashing, burning. Van dropped it back on his clothes and looked up towards the sky. He wasn't sure what this meant, but the blood and the frightening way the pendent was behaving reminded him of those days… when Fanelia was burned to the ground by the fire, the fire that blazed just as this pendent was. Those were the days when Hitomi wore the pendent, when they could call to each other with their minds, when…
Van heaved himself off the ground and began running back towards his home, his castle. He had to reassure his advisors he was alive… then… then…
His long fingers closed around the pendent bouncing on his chest as he left behind the river and his hated clothing. Something has happened to Hitomi. And he'd be damned if he wouldn't be there to catch her as she fell.
Author's Notes: Wow, so, are we excited yet? Van can "sense" something is wrong, eh? Nothing like the blatant blood-falling-from-the-sky to convince you something's up with your girl. Anyway… I hope this chapter wasn't such a long wait. School's starting in a week. Last year of high school. Three AP courses, and honors math. So… I'll try to keep updating. Keep on my back. :D Reviews will be worshiped!
If you would like to be notified when each new chapter comes out, please e-mail me at catwinner earthlink .net and ask to be added to the mailing list for Shattered.
Skittles1: Aw, thanks for the sweet comment. This chapter actually came out much easier. Only took two sittings. Good sign I hope? : )
Secret2u: Here's Van! Enjoy… there will be no lack of him in the next bazillion chapters. : )
Purplesmurf: First of all, you keep commenting with my author name. :X Watch it, you. (Anyone else who's reading this, I know him, it's all good.) But, otherwise, thanks for the comments! :D