Enter the Light

Part Twenty-One: Love, Memories, Evil

Standard Disclaimer Thingie: Characters, not mine. Plot, mine. Don't steal, don't sue, don't forget to Moo. Or else.

Moo!

The breeze was cool but not cold, breaking up the air which was warm but not hot. Sora felt at peace for the first time in a while. The music gently floated up from below them and the stars slowly grew brighter in the dark night sky.

If it had lasted forever, it would have been too short, but it was far less time than forever spent in each other's arms. The music faded, but they did not separate – in fact grew closer.

And then there was a knock on the door, waking her from her dreamlike state, and she was aware of the cruel reality again. The night air on the open veranda was suddenly colder than she remembered.

"No," Taichi said, his voice sounding sleepy. "Let them knock. They'll go away soon enough."

"It's likely important," she disagreed, and he sighed as though coming awake. He pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes.

"It's only Iori," he said, having opened the door, and it was Iori, but he had a serious expression on his face. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know."

"I'd rather I didn't know either," Iori answered, and Sora could see sweat beaded on his forehead and his practice sword still at his belt. "A messenger Piyomon has just arrived from the North. A village near Tachikawa has been attacked."

"Attacked?" Taichi echoed, frowning, picking up a jacket from the back of a chair, discarded hours before. "Attacked by what?"

"I'm not sure," Iori confessed. "I haven't heard the whole of the report. The Piyomon reports thirty two dead at last count, taken nearly three hours ago."

"Dead?" Sora echoed. "What's killed them?"

"The attack was over by the time his lordship's people had arrived," the Piyomon reported. "The reports we have are mostly civilian eyewitnesses. I haven't got anything in writing to give you yet. All I know is that most of them reported some sort of large digimon, but none of them could identify it. A few said it was likely a Golemon, but what others described sounded like Mammothmon and still others reported Tyrannomon."

"So it's likely more than one attacker," Yamato noted. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, still dressed in his night clothes, a dark blue robe tied around his waist.

"That's what it seems so far," the Piyomon agreed, nodding. "We couldn't get an accurate assessment of damage to the village because it was nearly dark. I expect they'll send another messenger after dawn breaks, when they can clearly see what's happened."

"I think it's wise to send out medics and doctors as soon as it's light," Jyou advised. He, too, had been ready for bed when the news had arrived, and was now dressed in a long black robe. He pushed his glasses up on to his nose and glanced toward Gomamon. "How many, do you think?"

"My father knew of at least a dozen doctors in the village," Mimi said, a distant look on her face as though she was seeing something quite some distance away. She, too, was dressed for sleep in a pale pink nightgown and a dark pink robe, but she had not tied the sash around her waist. "I cannot say if they still live, however."

There was a momentary silence.

"I should think as many as are willing to go," Gomamon said, answering his partner's question.

"I think a dozen, maximum," Jyou said, nodding. "If the reports come that the damage is much worse, we will send more tomorrow. Even if they leave at daybreak, though, it may be two days before they arrive."

"I'm going, too," Mimi interrupted before anyone else could speak.

"Mimi, are you sure…?" Sora questioned. "What if…?"

"I'm going," Mimi repeated, her eyes daring anyone to disagree with her. "It's my people, my father's land, isn't it? It's my responsibility. I'll go with your doctors, Jyou, so there'd best be space for me."

Jyou was silent a long moment, staring at her, frightened to disagree. He glanced toward Taichi, who like everyone else in the room was staring, wide eyed and surprised at Mimi's declaration. He shrugged lightly.

"As you wish, then," Jyou conceded.

"Shouldn't someone else go as well?" Takeru said when the shock had sunk in and silence had followed. The last word of this sentence was cut short when he fell into a huge yawn, however. "Just in case," he added when he'd finished yawning. "In case whatever attacked is still in the area."

Mimi grew pale, her eyes wide – she hadn't thought of that possibility. "Oh!" she gasped.

There was an uneasy silence as she glanced around the room. Takeru was saved from answering his own question by yawning widely again and sustaining it for several minutes. The others looked at their shoes or their slippers.

With a resigned sigh, Yamato folded his arms even tighter and stared fixedly at a candle on the wall nearby. "I'll go," he said, voice barely a mumble.

"No," said Koushiro, frowning from behind the pages of yet another massive and thick book. "I've no idea who you're talking about. And there's nothing about it in here." He shut the book, the sound of the thud echoing off the high stone walls of his basement room.

Takeru sat down as cautiously as possible on a rather rickety-looking stool. "Well, he does exist, I've seen him, and so did Sora and Mimi. So either we're crazy and hallucinating, or…."

"Or this book is a complete waste of time," Koushiro finished, frowning deeply at the heavy volume and then shoving it aside. "Still," he said more cheerfully now, "I've many more books to search through if you want to find him."

"Terrific," Takeru sighed, opening the nearest book and proceeding to flip through a thousand or so pages of crude drawings of common digimon – everything from Pyocomon and Nyaromon to Tentomon and Piyomon. He went through this section quickly – obviously the digimon he had seen was not a common one – and went to the considerably smaller section referring to rare digimon. Patamon, resting on his head, leaned over the edge of Takeru's forehead and peered down at the pages.

It was nearly nighttime again, the breeze feeling cooler than the day before. Sora had spent the day with Momoe, helping her to care for the newborn baby. Miyako's older sister had planned to leave within a week or so of the baby's birth, but she did not wish to return to her husband without having seen Miyako again.

Now, though, Sora stood on the veranda outside her own room, looking toward the north, toward where Mimi, Yamato, and a dozen or so physicians had left that morning, wondering if it had been wise to let Mimi go, wondering if it would have been possible to stop her.

"I don't think so," Piyomon said when she'd voiced these concerns. "Would you have stayed behind?"

She considered a moment before answering. "No. Not if I thought my mother might be in danger. Not if I thought I could help. Maybe I ought to have gone with her, too."

"I hope you won't," said a voice, and she turned to see that Taichi was leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows furrowed, a faint frown on his face.

"It's only the two of them," she told him. "Who knows what might have attacked that village? What if they can't hold it off? What if they need help, and we're two days away?"

His frown grew more pronounced as she spoke. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his right shoulder leaned against the doorframe, and studied the floor carefully before he spoke, his tone serious, his voice low. "It's a risk you take," he said. "It's a risk Mimi took," he added, before she could speak. "We can't all go there, you know that. What if it's a trap…to lure us away from here long enough to attack somewhere else?"

"What if it's not?"

Taichi sighed and rubbed the back of his head with one hand, looking up at the sky. "Then it's not," he said. "I don't think it is. I've got a hunch that whoever or whatever attacked that village near Tachikawa is long gone from there by now and we'll hear news in the next week of an attack somewhere else."

Sora was quiet a moment. "Why – who would do that? And why?"

"I think if we find the answer to one of those questions, we'll have the answer to both of them."

Hikari had been learning as quickly as it was possible to learn. She had studied endless books and she had mediated for countless hours. Miyako felt exhausted watching her, and rather tired on her own, as she had spent hours enough studying new spells herself.

The entire island seemed to be filled with working spell-casters, studying and practicing, healing and recovering. There was only one person on the island who did not practice magic, and he stood at the edge of a rocky cliff, watching the ocean, his eyes blank, but sometimes, a flash of something that was his real self, searching through his memories.

It was nearly dark, the sun sinking below the ocean in the west. Miyako could make out his dark shape against the bright sun. She climbed the rocks and reached the edge of the cliff. In silence, she stood, watching the sun skin, and when all had gone dark and she could no longer see, she lit the lantern she had carried with her and held it up.

"What have you been doing up here every day?" she asked him, holding the lantern so the fire cast light on his face.

"Watching the ocean," he said, turning to face her. Miyako squinted at him. Even in the darkness, she could see a complex network of magic that bound him – a binding of gold at his neck, as Takeru had seen – but also an intricate web of black threads that circled every bit of him, especially his head. The thought of untangling them, of trying to break them all, made her feel suddenly exhausted.

"Why?" she wondered, turning out to face the waves. "Do you look for something?"

"Something," he echoed, and then turned back toward the waves. "I don't know."

There was quiet for a moment. "Is what she said true?" Miyako said then, suddenly. "Your memories are returning?"

"Not returning, exactly…." he answered, now staring at the rocks below his feet. "I am…remembering that I have them. I don't remember them."

She was puzzled. "I don't understand. Isn't that the same?"

"No." He shook his head, and then turned to look at her. Miyako suppressed a shudder as she often did; his eyes were blank, not his own. "Slaves have no memories of before."

"Before you were - ."

He nodded. "I know there was a before, though."

Comprehension dawned, Miyako's eyes grew wide. "You know you were something else before, but you don't know what?"

"I have no access to those memories. It's forbidden. I feel them, though." He was studying the ground once more now, and Miyako could understand why. There was a thin line drawn between knowing the memories existed and actually accessing them. She raised the lantern and turned.

"Come," she said, taking a step down the rocks. "Let's get off this cliff."

It was not long before they had reached the bottom, safely and without incident despite a few jagged rocks and a rather steep climb. A thought occurred to Miyako and she turned in time to see him reach the bottom a few steps behind her.

"Hikari's never told you?" she asked. He was quiet, blank eyes blinking in the light of the lantern. Miyako frowned, turned aside. "I wonder why…."

"There is news?" Sora asked, her expression concerned, her voice anxious. "Good?"

It had been two nights since Mimi and Yamato had departed, and a Piyomon had just landed, tired from the long flight, but bearing scrolls filled with written reports from the north. Sora had seen it approach from her bedroom window and had suppressed the urge to immediately go and hear what had been sent. Instead, she had remained in her room, nervously pacing the balcony, not wishing to intrude.

Taichi had reappeared in the doorway less than an hour later, leaning once more on the frame, his hair tousled and his expression weary, though not defeated. "Lord Tachikawa's report lists forty five villagers dead, at least a hundred wounded. There's been no further attacks, and no sign of the monsters originally involved."

"It's like you said, then? That they're long gone, but why? Why attack that village?"

He shook his head. "No idea. There's nothing there of value so far as we've been able to determine, and nothing nearby of value. It couldn't have been an attack on Mimi's family, they're completely unharmed. The dead is entirely the villagers and a few outlying farmers. Homes and businesses in the village were destroyed, nothing of very high value."

"Now what, then?" Sora questioned. "Wait for another attack? There's no sign of who's responsible?"

"Mimi's father suspects Golemon, but there's no definitive reports." He shrugged, sighed. "I'm hoping Yamato and Mimi can examine the evidence, sift through the eyewitnesses, see if they can piece something together. They arrived this afternoon."

"So now we just wait," Sora concluded. She sighed, turned her head to peer at the stars, leaning against the railing. The breeze was cold tonight and there was no sound of music from the lower levels. There was no sense of peace. She shivered and felt a hand on her shoulder.

"There is a purpose behind this," Taichi said. "We'll find what they want, and then we'll be able to stop them before more damage is done."

Sora turned to face him, noting a look in his eyes she had not seen before, that she could not name. He seemed certain, and yet also hesitant. "I hope so," she said, puzzling over his expression. "There's something else?"

He looked away, out toward the sky once more, but said nothing, a frown appearing on his face.

Takeru awoke in the early morning, dressed quickly, and went outside to walk amongst the gardens before breakfast. With the sun barely risen above the garden walls, he sat on a low stone wall and let his mind wander, wondering what his brother was doing, and how Yamato was enjoying his time with Mimi. He smiled at the thought of it, wondering how well the two of them would pass a week together. In the distance, he could hear shouting, but he did his best to ignore it. Instead, he laid down on the wall and looked up at the blue sky. Patamon dozed a short distance away. The sweet smell of flowers was heavy in the air, and a light breeze made the cool morning feel a bit chillier than he would have liked. He shut his eyes and felt himself falling toward sleep before long.

"Takeru!"

Someone was shouting his name from a great distance away, but Takeru did his best to ignore them. He had no desire to spend another afternoon with any of the visiting dignitaries, lords, or ladies come from all over to pay respects to the newest king. He found most of them to be boring, as they were all older than he, some even older than his parents. His mind wandering, Takeru thought of his home and the last time he had been there.

It had been some time ago that he, his brother, and both parents had all been at home at the same time, and it had happened so rarely that he had few clear memories of any such occasion at all. For much of his childhood, Takeru had been with his mother's family while his older brother had stayed at home with their father. For some reason unclear to both siblings, their parents barely got along and were much happier apart. Yamato had suspected that the marriage had been arranged by their grandparents, and their parents had never particularly liked each other to begin with, but Takeru preferred to think that they had once loved each other and tragically grown apart.

Whatever the reason, he had few clear memories of his home, several days south of the palace, and was content to spend his time in the gardens here, while his mother returned to her parents and his father tended business at home. For some reason, however, Takeru found himself thinking of that place at the moment.

Their home was built at the foot of a mountain, a great stone fortress of a house that a Lord Ishida many hundreds of years ago had used slaves to build, long before slavery had been outlawed in Yagami. There was no nearby land suitable to be farmed, and the villagers in the valleys below worked in the mines of the mountainous area. The house had been passed on through generations of their family, yet despite its age, had always been well cared for. The interior had once been cold and dark, but generations had added larger windows and huge fireplaces and many thick and beautiful tapestries. It was a beautiful place, and Takeru had always thought so, yet had never felt at home in, for he had barely lived there.

A cold breeze rustled the stems and leaves of some flowers behind him. Takeru shivered and sat up, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm sun. He looked up, searching for a shadow that might have passed the sun, yet saw none. A short distance away, Patamon snored lightly.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the stone path and a boy, barely old enough to be a palace page, stumbled into the garden, nearly falling to his knees. He picked himself up, breathing heavily, and bowed before addressing Takeru.

"My Lord," he said, pausing again to rise and then to breathe. "We've looked all over for you – your room, the kitchens, the parlors." He paused again to take a breath.

"Looking for me?" Takeru asked, sliding down off the wall and poking his partner in the stomach with one finger. Patamon blinked and sleepily opened his eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know," the boy answered. "Iori only said that the king needs to see you. Right away."

Takeru might have been imagining it, because he did not hear the leaves rustle again, yet he was certain he felt another cold breeze, and he shivered again.

Just made it before the end of the month. Yes!

I don't know when this story will end, or how. I'm beginning to wonder if it ever will. I'm having a good time writing it, so it might just go on forever….

Okay, okay. It won't.

I don't have anything profound to say right now. Writing continues to progress pretty quickly, so I'll try to update this again soon. Thanks for reading, reviewing, I hope you've enjoyed. Till next time, ja ne.