I want to take a moment to thank you all for your patience and kind words :) !
Now to the story...
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12. Fiery
Wolfram looked up, squinting. A misty, cold rain had been their constant companion all day. The sky was a bright, closed gray that was difficult to look at, but gave everything over the earth a white, pure quality that the constant light rain couldn't quite shake off.
"Your uncle looks… scared" whispered Sven, who was riding next to Wolfram.
They had left Bielefeld castle that morning, and had been riding most of the day. The long column of Bielefeld men were heading to Blood Pledge Castle, a trip that would take at least two days for the distance and capricious weather that made the road slippery and dangerous.
Wolfram looked back as subtly as he could. It was true that Waltorana had been quiet, riding at the back of their group. He wore a thick gray coat, and his green eyes have been dispassionately fixed on the road ahead.
"He is not scared" whispered Wolfram back, turning to give Sven a quick look. "He is preparing himself, he knows the other Nobles will put our name in doubt at some point, covertly or openly, it doesn't matter. We have to be ready with counter arguments".
Sven nodded, riding closer to Wolfram. They were at the head of the group, so it was not really necessary to whisper, but somehow it would happen more and more often.
"Wolf, can I… ask you something personal?"
Wolfram grinned at that, though it was a sour expression that somehow added a strange shadow to his features "Personal? Are you serious Sven? After everything we have talked about this last couple of days: Mother, the letters... you know everything" the last three words took away Wolfram's grin.
Sven sighed, scratching the back of his neck on a nervous gesture that was oddly reminiscent of Yuuri, which caused Wolfram's stomach to make an uncomfortable flip.
"I was just wondering… how do you feel, about… well, King Yuuri haven't sent any letter to you, or tried to contact you. It must be hard".
Wolfram felt his hands go tense on the reins, and tried to relax his hold on them before taking a deep breath.
"The King is busy, I am sure there are many things that require his immediate attention. I would never… I would never expect to be a number one priority, when there is a whole Kingdom to think about".
Sven frowned "But you are his fiancée"
"That doesn't mean he car- that doesn't mean that, I mean" Wolfram cleared his throat, feeling that strange pull on his heart again. He ignored it. "He has other priorities, and if he suddenly were to drop them I would be the first one to point it out to him".
"What if he's not back from Earth?" asked Sven, his voice low and uncertain. "What then? Would that mean the kingdom is not his number one priority either?"
Wolfram huffed in annoyance "That's ridiculous, of course he is back by now"
Wolfram was sure of that, he could remember dream-Yuuri's words just too clearly: Stay home, stay safe, wait for me, I will find a way to be there soon, I will protect you all. Wolfram would first doubt his own eyes, than Yuuri's promises.
Sven looked wide eyed at Wolfram's certainty, and opened his mouth, probably to keep pushing the subject, when Wolfram held up a gloved hand in a clear signal to silence.
Along the muddy road, two riders were coming at them at full speed. Wolfram could felt his jaw clench as he recognized Roy's worried face. Roy was one of his most trusted soldiers, and he was one of their scouts, always ahead, and he would only come back for one reason: danger.
"Stop!" called Wolfram loudly, rising his hand up in a fist for everyone to see.
Gradually the group came to a confused halt. Waltorana looked up sharply and in less than a minute was by Wolfram's side, quiet and calculating. It took only a moment before the soldiers were forming lines around the Bielefelds, in half a moon that covered sides and rearward.
"Those are our scouts" said Alois, who was by Waltorana's side, his hand resting over his sword.
For some reason, Wolfram felt a long missed tug of adrenaline stroke his veins –which was cut short by numb shock when Roy was close enough to see his ashen face, his precarious hold on the reins, and his desperate attempt to stay on his horse. There was a quickly spreading red stain on his back, reaching his left shoulder.
"Bandits, sir!" reported the soldier, gasping for breath. "There is a large group coming this way, around thirty, probably more hidden at the side of the road, we lost Morgan to them". Roy rubbed his wet hand over his face in a tired gesture that Wolfram was sure was wiping tears away.
"Healer!" shouted Sven, looking back.
Immediately Roy was taken to the middle of the group where the carriage with the Healers were.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves" ordered Wolfram, looking ahead and repeating to himself that Roy would be fine, he was strong, that blood stain was probably nothing life-threatening.
"This doesn't make sense" murmured Waltorana to himself, but Wolfram could hear him.
It took maybe two or three minutes before a direct attack occurred. The enemy didn't have the surprise factor to their side anymore, but they still tried ambushing them from either side of the road, erupting from within the woods. And Roy had been so wrong, they were not thirty bandits, but around a hundred, and they kept on coming from the woods.
Wolfram took out his sword and stopped just in time the messy swing of an axe against his head, still on his horse he turned around and drove his weapon through the man's chest without hesitation.
The rain kept on falling, too soft to muffle the shouts and groans of the battle awakening around them. Amidst the sudden chaos, Wolfram could see the bandits were covering their faces with different kinds of masks and fabrics. It was not surprising but it was irritating, thought Wolfram, he expected to see the face of the man he was about to kill.
And this men fell like flies, their only relative strength was their superior number. They were unorganized, brandishing axes, pikes, lances and spears.
Soon realization hit Wolfram like a punch, and he looked around in shock: this people were no soldiers, were just civilians. His own people. It was a carnage that was turning the road puddles a sickening pink color.
Wolfram stood still a second too long. In a second someone jumped from another horse right against him, a bodily push that had them both fall to the floor. The landing was hard, with another body over his, and Wolfram felt the air of his lungs being kicked out.
He gasped and rubbed the mud out of his eyes just in time to see the unprepared, untrained man rise an axe over his head. His breath caught, and he reached for his fallen sword knowing, deep down, that there would be no time.
The man let the axe fall.
"No, stop!" shouted Sven, desperately jumping off his own horse.
The man stopped, frozen for just a second before Sven came right behind him and drove his sword through the man's chest, twisting it mercilessly before pulling it out covered in red. Blood splattered all over Wolfram's face, as the lifeless body of the man came crashing down on him.
Wolfram pulled him away just time to get his sword and fend off a bandit that was about to attack Sven's turned back. Whipping away the rain and blood from his face, Wolfram got back to back with Sven.
Wolfram decided he couldn't care if this people were trained soldiers or not: they were here to kill. And soon it became clear who was the target. More and more of them crowded around the group where Waltorana was. He was a skilled fighter, and when they become critically outnumbered he rose a wall of fire that kept most of the bandits outside.
The familiar warm of the fire caressed Wolfram's back and he turned to see his uncle's doing. His wall wasn't as tall, thick or strong as the one Wolfram could conjure, and he knew his uncle wouldn't last long. When he tried to run to him, to fend off those closer to his uncle, more bandits came to close his path.
He groaned and launched. A swing of his sword slit a bandit's neck almost in half, he kicked the next one in the chest and when he went down, drove his sword down in a single fatal push over his heart. Wolfram pulled his sword off the man's chest and looked around. The landscape was gray, the sky blindingly gray and the blood… the blood looked like glistening icicles melting into the puddles. It glowed.
Then the warmth was gone and Wolfram ran towards his uncle, how was too exhausted to kept the wall. It was now a harmless circle of ashes around them.
The bandits turned as one and charged. It was madness. Wolfram sliced, struck and kicked man after man, but it seemed like getting by his uncle's side was impossible. Gasping for breath, Wolfram put two fingers to his forehead and called out his own maryoku, sensing the blood in his veins run faster, hotter. The awakening of that fire spirit within himself. Wolfram called and directed his power in a sudden gush of fiery wind that shot straight to Waltorana and the small group of men fighting by his side, Alois among them. The scorching air condensed and soon light was being born of it, shaping the figure of a roaring lion that jumped for the throat of the man who was about to attack Waltorana.
A bandit tried to get his spear through Wolfram and he evaded him skillfully, turning on him and disarming him. The man fell to the floor and looked up at him. Wolfram doubted, the man was no longer a threat. He felt a tug in his chest and turned in time to flick his wrist, making his lion, his other half, chew off the head of the man who was about to launch arrows at them.
The man on the floor didn't make a sound, and he was still quiet when Sven came to Wolfram's side and cut the man's throat.
"Sven-"
"Down!" shouted Sven, covering Wolfram with his own body as a group of archers organized themselves and started a new attack of arrows.
Waltorana yelled and Wolfram looked up in horror. One of the arrows had gone through Alois' chest. The man looked at the arrow across his chest, confused, as if he couldn't understand what was happening. Alois shuddered and his legs gave up, leaving him on his knees. Waltorana put an arm around him, fending off an attacker with the sword still on his right hand.
Wolfram paled, called on to this unorganized energy and focused the lion to the archers. The fire animal growled dangerously before starting a heavy trudge that would become faster and faster as the mighty feline got closer to its prey. The archers yelled and tried to run. It was useless, soon the fiery beast was on them, scorching to the bone those who didn't rip apart with is claws.
Wolfram felt nauseous, could almost feel the flesh of those men under his nails. He gasped, sickened, before Sven pulled him up.
He looked around, pushed down his disgust with himself and let the lion… free. Free to roam, to slice, to give in to its lethal bite. He could see through his lion's eyes and avoided Bielefeld men, but those with masks never had a chance.
Wolfram knew Sven would stay by his side, protecting him while he concentrated on his beast. While he became his beast. They were one, and Wolfram breathed out the smoldering ashes his lion breathed in, hotter and hotter. He could taste blood in his mouth, and when a man tried to confront him with an axe, he laughed.
The sound of his laugh turned to scream when a group of men tried to escape, and in their desperation, threw lances, arrows and even rocks at him. Sven could do nothing against so many attackers and it was a flying spear the one that extinguished the fire lion, as if it was burning itself in a pained roar.
Wolfram fell down and the shouts and chaos of the battle returned to his ears. Sven was kneeling next to him, pale, scared.
"No, no,no… not you, no…"
Wolfram tried to speak, but could only cough and taste his own blood.
"Healer!" shouted Sven at the top of his lungs.
Wolfram gasped and coughed, and with a final thought of Yuuri and Greta, closed his eyes and fell.
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He signed, opened his eyes and smiled.
Yuuri was looking at him, a soft, unguarded look on his face.
"Hello" he said.
"Hi" answered Wolfram, snuggling closer to him.
They were in their bedroom, the morning light still faint through the windows. Wolfram buried his face against Yuuri's pajama clad chest, and breathed in, in, deep. A deep sense of home and safety covered him like a security blanket. Yuuri moved his arm across Wolfram's waist to get him closer.
Wolfram couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy, this complete, and it didn't matter anyway because then Yuuri leaned closer, pressing their lips together in a gentle, lazy kiss.
Wolfram sighed, closing his eyes and concentrating on the feel of Yuuri's lips on his, of his warmth, of the wet, sweet slip of his tongue.
"Wolfram?"
"Yes?" asked Wolfram, looking up, but Yuuri was not speaking, was just looking at him, besotted.
"Wolfram?" called another Yuuri again.
Wolfram frowned, then sat up on the bed. The Yuuri on the bed didn't react in any way, just kept on looking longingly at him, as if everything he wanted in the world was for Wolfram to lay down again.
"Yuuri?" asked Wolfram, confused.
"Wolfram…" called Yuuri's voice again.
Wolfram looked at the Yuuri on the bed and realized, with sickening clarity that this was a dream. He felt his stomach drop, his blood go cold. Trembling, he got up the bed and walked to the door. With one last glance at his dream induced Yuuri, who was still looking at him with adoration and love clear in his eyes, Wolfram turned around and opened the bedroom's door.
The door was stuck but after a few tries he could push it open.
It opened to a familiar landscape that caught his breathe. It had been too long. He walked through the door without hesitation, closing it behind him. He was immediately immersed in a sphere of fire, familiar and calming, as much a part of himself as his own skin. The fire licked its way up, up high and around, in this fascinating form of existence that wrapped itself around him, vibrating with Rightness.
Wolfram didn't wait, couldn't wait, and ran to the edge of it, to the farthest wall.
There was only one reason for Wolfram to be here: it was that Yuuri had to be near.
"Yuuri?"
"Wolf" and it sounded so relieved, for a moment Wolfram thought he was still in a mundane dream.
"Why did you take so long?" was the first question that escaped Wolfram's mouth. He didn't mean to sound accusing, he never ever meant to question Yuuri about it, but now he couldn't seem to stop. "You said you were coming… why didn't you? You said to wait but it's been too long Yuuri. You said you were coming for m- us, everyone, Yuuri you said…-"
"I know" cut Yuuri, sounding miserable. "Please Wolf, I know, I know… Wolf… I…"
Wolfram bit his lip, ashamed, and rested his forehead on the familiar warmth of the fire sphere. He could feel Yuuri on the other side, just out of reach.
"Wolfram, I can't go back"
And just like that Wolfram felt his heart break.
"Can't, or won't?"
"Don't you- don't you dare say that to me!" and now Yuuri sounded angry. "Not you, Wolfram. You know I made a choice long ago, you know I always come back, always".
"Yet now…"
"The portal is blocked, or broken, I don't know… something big is happening and I am stuck here, Wolf, you have to believe me".
And Wolfram did, absolutely.
"How can I help?"
"You could talk with Shinou, or the priestess Ulrike. I am sure they must have noticed it".
"I will, when we get there" said Wolfram quickly.
"Get there?" asked Yuuri.
"We are on our way from Bielefeld to Blood Pledge Castle" informed the green eyed mazoku.
"Why aren't you at the castle with Greta, Wolfram?" and yes, there was accusation in his voice, but mostly worry.
"She is with Gwendal, and Conrad… and I will be back soon".
"She shouldn't be alone! How long till you get to her?"
At that, Wolfram paused. He couldn't remember much of the travel. Had he fallen asleep on his horse?
"I…" Wolfram tried to remember. There was rain. The path was muddy. Then Roy's face came to him like a slap on the face and suddenly he remembered everything. The bandits, the fight, the blood, what he had done. Yuuri would never approve of killing. He felt sick.
"Wolf?" asked Yuuri, tentatively, as if sorry for his earlier outburst.
"I…"
And it was so bizarre.
"I think I died, Yuuri".