Nanashi dispatched his attackers, immediately looking to the others to assess who needed the most help. Luckily, that person was also the closest to him.
Heero stood near the side of the road, fighting off two men at once. Nanashi broke into a run in his direction, but startled as he heard a strange voice call out, "Heero! Behind you!"
Nanashi looked to the source of the sound to see Duo, then saw a third man rushing at Heero from behind. He reacted immediately, pulling a dagger from his belt and throwing it at the man's throat. It struck with exacting accuracy, almost stopping him in his tracks as the man's hands went up to attempt to stop the bleeding. He clearly wasn't thinking because he pulled the dagger out, increasing the blood loss. The man dropped to his knees a moment later, then fell face forward in the dirt.
Bless Cathy for her knife-throwing lessons, Nanashi thought as he looked back at Heero. If he'd reacted to Duo's warning, Nanashi couldn't tell, but just then, Heero managed a fatal blow to the man on his left, putting his sword through his stomach nearly to the hilt. Almost effortlessly, he withdrew it and continued to fight the remaining attacker. Clearly, he had the situation under control.
Nanashi heard a loud scream, and looked over to see Duo drop to the ground and begin writhing as if in pain before going limp. As he got closer and was able to see more clearly through the dark, his eyebrows went to his hairline and he stopped in his tracks. Where once legs had been was now a deep purple fishtail, luminescent in the faint moonlight.
Unsure what to do about Duo, Nanashi looked back toward Heero, then to Catherine and Sylvia. Heero had apparently killed the second attacker and was wiping off his blade on the man's shirt, while Cathy looked like she was consoling Sylvia, both of them still on their horses. Good. It was over. But what about Duo? What on earth was going on?
"Heero! Get over here!"
Heero looked up, sheathed his sword and jogged over.
"What…?" he asked incredulously as he neared, slowing his steps. "Is that…?"
"A fish tail, yes. Your eyes do not deceive you."
"But how?" Heero asked, clearly still as stunned as Nanashi was.
"I have no idea. Do you know, right before this happened, he called out to you? Warned you about a man rushing at you from your rear. Out loud."
Heero shook his head. "I didn't hear it, I was too focused on fighting. What happened?"
"I stopped him with a dagger to the throat, then heard Duo cry out in pain and saw him fall to the ground. Then I found him like this."
"What's going on?" Came Cathy's voice from behind them. Nanashi looked over his shoulder to see her approaching them while Sylvia stayed back calming the horses, who were probably skittish from the scent of blood.
"See for yourself," he replied, stepping aside so she could look.
"He's… he's a mer," she said slowly, as astonished as they were.
"What do we do now?" Heero asked, practical as ever.
Nanashi thought for a moment. "We need to get him to water. Mer can breathe out of water for a time, but if they spend too long out of it… well, it ends badly."
"But how do we get him there?" Catherine asked. "There are only two horses left. We're still miles from Wanderer's Cove."
Nanashi thought for a moment. "Heero, you're the strongest. If you ride one of the horses with Duo in front of you like he's riding sidesaddle, you can hold him up while one of us leads the horse. The rest of us can take turns riding the other."
Heero nodded. "Good idea. We'll ask Sylvia if there's a closer access to the ocean than the cove, but if not… we'll just go as quickly as we can."
Quatre awoke feeling uneasy and… afraid? He hadn't been dreaming, so that wasn't… An acute sense of alarm almost overwhelmed him before he could pinpoint its source.
"Iria, what's wrong?" he asked through their connection, immediately leaving his bed and starting to swim in her direction.
He received an image of a small party traveling along a road in the night, two on horseback and two walking. Or was that three on horseback, two doubling up on one of the horses?
"Can you get closer?"
Iria complied. When Quatre was able to make out exactly what was happening, his heart constricted. Duo had transformed back into a mer, and it looked like he was being held up in the saddle, either unconscious or having difficulty staying on the horse.
His worst fears realized, Quatre decided he was going to need some help. "Where are they going?" he demanded as he turned toward Hilde's place.
In his mind's eye, Quatre saw the small group disappear behind her as Iria flew ahead of them. It was a challenge to continue swimming as he also watched through Iria's vision. Usually he stayed still while communing like this, but there was no time to linger.
Arriving, he pounded on the door.
"Hilde! Hilde I need you now!" The road Iria showed him had no turn offs, and seemed to go on forever before Iria reached a cove with a small dock. Thank goodness, they were headed for water.
After several minutes with no response, he pounded on the door again. Finally, it opened.
"What is going on?" Hilde asked, bewildered.
"Duo's in trouble. He's transformed back but he's on land. The Prince is with him and seems to be taking him to water but I'm not even sure if he's conscious. We need to get there now."
"Just go and I'll follow," Hilde said, clearly understanding the urgency.
Quatre waited not even a heartbeat before turning and beginning to swim. He wanted to go as fast as his fins could take him, but it would take several hours to reach that part of the shoreline. They needed to pace themselves.
Iria swung around and followed the road back to the small party. They were moving much more slowly than she could fly. It would likely take them at least as much time to get there as it would Quatre and Hilde, and Quatre hoped with all his might that Duo would be okay for that long out of water.
Trowa stood before the old woman, determined to get a straight answer. The other soothsayers he'd approached had spoken in indecipherable riddles. This time, he was certain, he would finally know when his time would come, when his asshole of a father would finally die and leave the kingdom in his own, much more deserving hands.
"What brings you here, Prince? What truth do you seek?" she asked, her face morphing from old to young, young to old and all the years in between. It was unnerving, adding to his discomfort with the whole concept of magic and prophecy and the like. He knew, knew that seeking out wisdom of this sort had its risks, but he had to know.
"When will I become king?" he asked, his voice forceful and demanding. She would answer him, and by his sheer force of will, he would actually understand the answer.
"Do you truly want this knowledge? Knowing one's own future is a dangerous thing. It cannot be changed, and attempts to do so can bring about disastrous results." The woman's voice was old and shaking no matter the appearance of her face. It was disconcerting and added to Trowa's unease.
"I'm sure," Trowa answered irritably. "Now tell me the answer."
"As you wish. You must give me time to seek the truth. This may take a few minutes or many, and you must not interrupt me. Are you prepared to wait?"
Trowa clenched his fist. He'd been waiting and waiting and waiting already. "Very well. Do what you must," he said grudgingly, and the woman began to chant in some language he'd never heard before.
As he waited, the surroundings began to change. The wooded glade where stood the seer's traveling wagon, her campfire and the stool upon which she sat, became darker and more sinister, the trees growing taller and leaning over the clearing, limbs stretching in his direction as if to grab him.
He stood his ground as his heart rate began to soar, determined not to be swayed by whatever dirty tricks this woman was playing to scare him off. But then the ground began to undulate, the earth passing like ocean waves beneath his feet. He widened his stance to try to steady himself but only barely kept to his feet.
He wanted to scream at her, force her to stop this witchery, but more than that he wanted answers, and she had told him not to interrupt. He clenched his jaw and resolved to endure her nasty tricks.
The unstable ground began to shake as the tree branches loomed ever closer, twisting and twining almost like vines. To his horror, he felt himself begin to sink. The earth had become quicksand, and he was slowly inching down and down, coldness climbing up his legs.
He began to struggle, to try to lift his legs from the mud, but it only made him sink faster. He stilled, breath coming in rapid pants, panic beginning to sink in. The mire reached higher, engulfing his waist, then chest, then neck.
The mud was just shy of creeping into his mouth when reality warped around him, everything twisting and blurring, then suddenly snapping back into focus. He was once again in front of the old woman, as if nothing had happened at all.
Breath still coming much too quickly, Trowa listened to the crone make her pronouncement. As she finished, he could do nothing but scream in rage and despair.
Trowa awoke with a start. He hadn't had that nightmare in years. The memory of the event had morphed since that fateful night, to the point that he no longer knew what was memory and what was fiction. The words of the prophecy, however, remained seared into his brain, never changing.
"You, Trowa Barton, shall never be king. Your namesake will ensure your demise. Long live King Trowa."
With a sudden feeling of dread, he realized why Nanashi had seemed so familiar. His nephew was alive.
