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Chapter 7: The Realization of Love and Hate
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Mark's hand wavered as a bead of sweat slowly rolled down his unshaven cheek. His hand, poised several feet above the sweat covered linen sheet, was slowly obeying his forced mental commands.
(Lift the sheet, hand, lift it!)
His hand resisted weakly, but the mind of the Master Tactician won it over. The hand slowly made its way toward the thrashing form, poised to lift the cover. First a finger, then another. Soon, his hand was ready to toss aside the covering cloth.
With one great yank, Mark hurled the cloth onto the desk, next to where his drawn saber laid. Hearing a scream and receiving a kick, Mark landed heavily on his back with the wind knocked out of him.
"Who are you!" a woman's voice screamed as another kick landed on his side. "You sick perverted animal!" The kicks came faster, each landing in the same region.
"Who are you!" Mark retorted weakly as he struggled to get up. His right arm managed to block the next flurry of kicks. But the kicks came faster, each managing to maneuver past his futile barrier.
"You get the hell out of here or I'll kill you!"
"No way! This is my place!"
"No matter!" Fiora stopped kicking and grabbed Mark's saber from the desk. "This'll make you leave, you monster!"
Mark stopped struggling. The tip of his saber was hovering so close to his eye that if he had blinked, the tip would've scratched his eyelid. At the other end of the saber, a almost naked Fiora was glaring Rex Hastas at him. Taking a deep breathe, Mark steadied his temper.
Surely Fiora clad in nothing but her underwear can do anything but kill him?
"Put that down," Mark calmly said. "Put my saber down and I'll leave. I think you'll agree on that."
"YOUR saber? You get the hell out of I'll make you pay for what you've done to me, you monster!" Fiora quickly whipped the saber back and stabbed Mark. "How dare you take away the last bit of dignity I had! I'll make you pay, not once but twice over, for what you've done!"
The thin but sharp tip pierced through Mark's scant cloth garments, forcing its way into his chest. Mark gave a scream, shattering the peace that thinly covered the entire estate.
Fiora yanked the weapon out, drunk in her anger. With a strange glint in her eyes, she stabbed down again and again. Three times more did she stab the fallen Master Tactician and three deep wounds appeared in Mark's chest.
"Fiora... stop it..." Mark weakly protested when Fiora, exhausted from her sudden anger, dropped the saber.
Fiora back away from Mark's body. Blood, his own blood, was squirting out like a fountain. His right hand moved to cover one of the bleeding wounds. The weak hand didn't succeed in shutting the fountain of blood, causing Mark to start convulsing in pain. His head rolled to face a frightened Fiora.
Mark didn't panic. He knew something had happened to Fiora. But what? He knew his death isn't here. No lights were flashing before him and his eyes. But he may be wrong.
With his left arm outstretched to her, Mark hoarsely whispered. "Fiora... I'm sorry..."
Suddenly, the door to the room flew open. A panicked and frightened Gavin with an Iron Sword at the ready stood at the door. His quick eyes flew from Mark lying in a bloody puddle of Mark's own blood to the saber dropped next to Fiora. Gavin's eyes furrowed together and Gavin's grip on his sword tightened.
"Master... are you alright?" Gavin said as he slowly walked toward Fiora, his gaze never averted. Mark looked at him and shook his head.
"I'm afraid that what has happened is not of her fault, Gavin. Back down, I say. Back down!" Mark coughed up some blood, some which landed onto his hand. "Leave, Gavin. Go to town and get the bishop."
"Are you sure, Master?" Gavin skeptically said as he took one step toward the door. "What if she..."
"She won't do anything, Gavin. Just go and get the bishop!" Mark then coughed once more, this time, a great wad of phlegm mixed with blood arose from his mouth. "GO!"
Looking longingly at Fiora, Mark gave a heavy sigh. "Fiora... whatever it was... I hope you may recover from it..."
Fiora stood against the far side of the bed, totally scared by this... this strange man in her room. He looks so familiar yet Fiora does not know from where. As she gazed upon the bloody blade still in her hands, she saw a faint glimpse of a man similar to the one whom she injured except his eyes were crimson and two sharp fangs leered at her in a vile fashion.
Quickly, Fiora tossed the blade away in horror. The saber made a loud clang when it struck the ground, filling the room with its harsh ring. Mark closed his eyes and winced. His saber wasn't meant to be beaten on the sides, nor was it meant to be used against him. Fiora took another look and a small pool of regret began to grow within her.
Why had she stabbed him? Why? Fiora herself doesn't even know. Looking at the fallen form of Mark once more, the remorse within the Falcon Knight grew. But one small voice in her mind awoke.
(Do you not know of what evils this man has done to you?) it questioned her in a menacing tone. (He has take the last bit of pride from you. Do you wish to let such a man walk away alive? Do you not feel the rage and anger that is roaring within your soul? Do you?)
Fiora knew what the voice spoke was true. But she could not bend over and arm herself with the saber.
(Blood has been spilt this night, voice,) Fiora replied. (I've already spilt blood in the past and I wish to not spill any more. Families have been divided and friends have been lost by the mere wave of a sword. I will not pay heed to your words.)
(So be it,) the voice sneered. (But mark my words, such a man will try to take away another grain of your pride. If you dare to let a man live, I will have no choice but to intervene. Mind you, I will intervene on no one's command.)
Suddenly, Fiora's head began to hurt. A strange, painful ache suddenly rended through her head as if demons were dancing a macabre dance of death within her skull. Wincing and giving a soft moan of agony, Fiora tried to steel back the pain.
A great burst of black energy erupted from her forehead. It careened off of a wall and struck the floor. Fiora collapsed onto her knees and could barely see the shape the strange energy was forming.
It was forming, slowly. The legs were forming yet they were still in a shadowy form. The vision, or so it seems, was slowly forming the body of a man. But as sure as Fiora was of her eyesight, this being was everchanging from man to woman, from a person or purity to one of shadow, of one of handsomeness to one of pure horror.
When the face was finished forming, the eyes slowly opened. Looking at them, Fiora was paralyzed by a sudden strange bout of fear.
It was the eyes of Horror and Fear. The Brothers of Shadows have come once more in Reality.
"Greetings, Fiora of Ilia," the strange creature greeted in a guttural tone. "It has been our pleasure of enjoying your body. We hope to meet it once more." It gave a howl of laughter and Fiora couldn't help but clench her fist in rage.
The eyes suddenly went from yellow to red. Fear was now in control.
"Ilian Knight, our master was happy to relieve you of your burden. He, in the future, wishes to broker a deal with you concerning your future," Fear said in a raspy tone.
"Tell that vile vermin that I deal not with demons!" Fiora shouted as her hands gripped themselves around the fallen saber. "You and your master may have taken my pride but it is you that shall lose your life!"
The left eye shifted colors to yellow and both raspy and guttural laughter rung in the room.
"Well said, Ilian Knight," Fear said in his raspy voice. "Yet you may be able to destroy our corporeal forms but be aware. We demons of shadow are immortal. Our bodies may die, our hearts may rot, but our souls shall continue to live. Nothing you nor the entire continent of Elibe can stop us!"
Fiora couldn't take this insult no longer. Adding insult to her painful injury, Fiora's rage nearly blew the top. Already her tight grip on Mark's saber was ready to spear through the hearts of those demon brothers. But no matter. They shall pay dearly for what they made her do to Mark.
Rushing forward and screaming for the blood of those two demons, she stabbed at the chest of the body. Fear's eyes returned and he quickly sidestepped the attack. With one hand out, Fear summoned dark energy into his hand.
Fiora turned about, slashing diagonally, ready to spill the blood of her torturer. It connected, scoring a greyish blood wound across Fear's chest. The demon didn't flinch but the strange dark energy seemed to swell and grow.
The nerves in her hands started to numb for an unknown reason. Fiora will herself to steady herself for another attack. With a glint in her, the Falcon Knight charged.
"Prepare yourself for the second coming!" Fiora yelled as she ran the Saber through Fear's chest. It struck right onto its mark, burying itself deeply into the heart. Blood, of grey color, spurted out of the mortal wound. But Fear once again did not flinch.
"Excellent show," said Fear as the demon looked her in the eye and gave a cackle. "But it is you that must prepare for the second coming. We demons of the shadows do not fade away easily."
Before Fiora, the body of Fear and Horror slowly faded away. Their shared body slowly broke apart into smaller shimmers of dark light. As the twin demons faded away, a dark and malevolent laughter rang through the room. Looking behind her, Fiora screamed.
Mark was standing upright once more. But the wound on his chest continued to flow, staining the blue-green carpet with his crimson blood. As each droplet connected with the material, it would rest on the floor and suddenly evaporate.
Looking into his eyes, Fiora was horrified to learn why Mark is standing upright.
The yellow eyes of Horror.
"Well done, Ilian Knight," Mark's mouth moved. From the throat came the guttural voice of Horror, not the familiar gentle and calm voice of Mark. "As our bodies of the mortal plane may be of darkness, we retain the ability of possessing bodies, both living or dead. Now do you believe you can truly destroy us?" he gave a menacingly step closer to Fiora.
"Why do you resist, why do you even bother?" Horror asked as Fiora slowly edged closer to the open window. "What is the point of being with this mortal, this man who sent many men and women to their deaths?" A strange ball of energy emerged from Mark's hand and struck Fiora.
Fiora tried to move away but the energy from the ball bound itself about her body, keeping her locked within a small space. The animated body of Mark slowly walked toward her, blood still flowing freely from the deep wound she inflicted upon her beloved.
(Is this is?) Fiora bitterly thought. (Can this be the reason why love must be forgotten?)
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Gavin ran as fast as he could through the light snow of Etruria. Cursing the early bitter chill of winter, the young Apprentice Tactician sought to find the local Church of St. Elimine.
Running and running, he finally reached the main square. Hearing the bell tolling, Gavin oriented himself to the south. Shading his eyes from the sun rising in the east, Gavin found his goal.
Running up the church steps, he pounded hard on the large oaken door. The cold numbed his hands, forcing Gavin to wince whenever a nerve reacted harshly to the pounding.
"Open up, Bishop!" Gavin yelled as he continued to barrage the door. "Master Tactician Mark requires healing immediately!"
Gavin heard something shuffle to the door and a yawning acolyte opened the door. Looking at the acolyte, Gavin was puzzled. Normally it was the Bishop who would be awake first.
"Forgive my asking but where's the Bishop?" Gavin questioned the half-awake, half-asleep acolyte. The initiate pointed at at the altar.
"Bishop Renault's been up half the night, praying," the young Monk grumbled as he stifled another yawn. "What's the business?"
Gavin ignored the young Monk's questions and quickly vaulted himself to the altar where the Bishop was still praying. Before he could interrupt the Bishop's prayers, Gavin heard the Bishop raise his voice slightly.
"... Warum Heiliger Elimine? Ist das Kriegkommen zu diesem Kontinent noch einmal? Können wir diesen zukünftigen Notstand verhindern? Ich bete, daß Sie uns das Zeichen zeigen, nach dem die Leute nach dieser Welt nach Ihrer heiligen und heiligen Stärke zeichnen..."
(For those that don't speak German: "... Why Saint Elimine? Is war coming to this continent once more? Can we prevent this future calamity? I pray that you will show us the sign upon which the people upon this world will draw upon your holy and sacred strength...")
With that, the blue-robed Bishop bowed to the altar of Saint Elimine. Bending over to pick up his staff, the Bishop suddenly spoke.
"Who enters the Church of Saint Elimine at such hours?" the Bishop gruffly challenged, not even turning around. Gavin swallowed the growing lump in his throat before answering.
"I, Gavin Firewind, Apprentice Tactician to Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician, do dare to intrude upon the Church of Saint Elimine at such early hours. I do dare to come and intrude for my Master is severely injured," Gavin hesitated. "I also fear that he may be close to death. The wounds are mortal."
"Then why bother with the nonsense, my son!" the Bishop suddenly exclaimed. Seizing up his staff, he indicated for Gavin to lead the way. "Lead on, young Apprentice!"
The Bishop's face finally came into view. The follower of Saint Elimine was a little taller than Gavin, roughly about six feet and two inches. The older man had green hair that was fading into grey, giving the Bishop an knowledgeable aura. Around the shoulders was a grey-blue cape which appeared to be somewhat old yet newly repaired. Grasping a Fortify staff in his right hand, the Bishop looked as if he was experienced in the ways of war and peace.
Gavin gasped. This cannot be who he thinks it is.
"Hm? Something wrong, my son?" the puzzled Bishop asked. Gavin speechlessly gestured at the Bishop.
"Can you... are you?" Gavin tried to say what his mind thought but it all came out as a jumble of nonsense. Giving a swallow, he managed to blurt out: "Are you truly the Bishop Renault?"
The green haired Bishop stood there silently in the chambers of Saint Elimine. A quiet voice finally spoke.
"Renault was a name I used in the past," he softly said as he looked upon the altar of Saint Elimine. "That was also a name I used when I was a Mercenary long, long ago."
Bishop Renault looked pensieve as he gazed upon the statue of Saint Elimine. A strange distant look came into his eyes.
(Gagh, what am I doing!) Gavin berated himself. (I'm here to get the Bishop to heal my Master! What other errand do I have?)
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Fiora felt her blood go cold as the possessed body of Mark walked slowly around her. Those once warm hands would gently caress her almost naked form as she was held in paralysis by the strange magic barrier.
"Phu-phu-phu..." Fear's voice emanated from Mark's mouth. "It was a pleasure taking your maiden-head in your dreams but in reality? I am honored." Stepping close, Fiora could feel the fetid breath of Fear blowing on her neck. Fear took in her scent and let out a pleased exhale.
"Ah... the sweet smell of fear," the demon of the shadows grinned at Fiora. "I believe you will find this... hm... as enjoyable as the one you experienced in your mind? Hm?"
"You will pay for this, you... you--"
"--demon of the shadows and blah de blah. Get over it. At least you'll be enjoying something before your death," Fear picked up the saber and twirled the weapon in his hands.
"That is..." Fear threw the saber like a javelin at a wall. It soared through the air and struck the wood. "If this body whom I possess has already... taken it?"
"You sick pervert!" Fiora spat as she struggled to fight the magic. "Let me loose and I'll show you the strength of the Ilian Knights!"
"Hoho! The serene warrior is ready for some fun? Pah! What a joke! You're just luring me into a trap where right when I least expect it, you do the usual run away crap. Get real, lady. This day, you won't be able to run away from everything." Fear placed one clammy hand on Fiora's forhead and a strange dark matter started to ooze from his hand into her.
"Let go!" Fiora screamed at the top of her lungs. The black ooze started to pulse a strange red color. Fiora quickly felt a strange swaying sensation in her mind. Her still quick mind realized what this strange gooey matter was.
It was that same crimson ooze from her dream!
Before Fear could open his mouth to laugh, the door to the room swung open. A beam of white magic barreled through Mark's body, piercing the soul of Fear. Mark's eyes rolled in agony as he screamed. While Mark's bodily wounds were healed by the magic of light, the soul of Fear forced the body to collapse onto the ground. Writhing in pain, a grey matter began to exude from Mark's body.
Gavin ran through the door as the beam of white energy continued to hurt Fear while healing Mark. In his sword arm was a unfamiliar sword that glittered with bright energy. Gavin leaped over his Master's possessed body to land next to Fiora.
"Gods, I hope I don't miss," Fiora heard Gavin mumble as he raised the weapon. Bringing the sword down, he severed the magical bonds that held Fiora in place.
Fiora collapsed on the ground in a heap, exhausted from struggling against the paralysis that temperarily bound her body in one point of space. Breathing heavily as large glistening balls of sweat rolled down her scantily clad body, she soon realized who was at the end of the beam of white magic.
Mark's body finally stopped moving yet it occasionally twitched. The strange grey matter that was leaking out of his body was carried away by the wind. A strange howl was heard.
"You'll pay this, Bishop!" they heard the voice of Fear snarl. "This isn't the last time you'll face the demon brothers of darkness!"
Fiora shut her eyes, drained of most of her energy. She felt a hand place itself onto her forehead. An energy, one that was comforting and relaxing slowly expanded through her body. She slowly opened her eyes to see a familiar face.
"Bishop Renault?" Fiora was amazed to see the kind man kneeling next to her. Renault nodded his head sadly.
"Greetings, Fiora of Ilia," the old Bishop said sadly. "It's a wonder how you got here." Looking at her, the follower of Saint Elimine slowly turned a tad crimson. Fiora looked down at herself and was also embarrassed.
Fiora was... not exactly completely clothed. While her undergarments were held in the stasis barrier, they had... become somewhat ripped. Her bra was torn slightly, exposing most of her flesh, and her panties were barely kept on the only remaining strap.
"Er..." Renault hastily got up as he averted his eyes to the ceiling. "I suppose I'll check on Mark first. I'll attend to you when... er... when you're ready."
The Bishop half-ran, half-walked to the door. Slipping around the door without even averted his head from the blue ceiling, the Bishop shut the mahogany door gently. Fiora took the stunned final look at herself before she finally got up. Running over the closet behind, Fiora feared what might've happened if a certain green-haired pervert was here. Shuddering at the thought, the Falcon Knight proceeded to open the oaken closet.
Opening it, the Falcon Knight was surprised to see it not only held her tan Ilian uniform and armor but it also had other various dresses from all the regions of the continent of Elibe. There were several kimonos from the Sacae, ornate clothing imported from Bern, and the practical but beautiful plain dresses from Lycia. Feeling uncomfortable with such a sight of wealth and diversity before her, Fiora picked out her tan uniform and quickly donned it.
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Gavin dragged Mark's unconscious body out of the room. While he would normally carry anyone on his back under any circumstances, the dead weight of Mark's body had taken its toll on Gavin's back. Blood still smeared Mark's body but thankfully the Bishop Renault was thorough in healing the Master Tactician.
"Gavin, watch your master carefully," Renault said to Gavin when they were in another room. "I fear that there's an dark influence over his body. Make sure that he does not drink too much. And while you're at it, keep him confined to his room. He needs all the rest he can get."
"But your lordship," Gavin protested. "Master is a forceful teacher. He will threaten me-"
"And you will bear the brunt of it, I assure you," Renault replied. "Do what you must to keep him in his room. If he leaves and finds Fiora in her drained state, I fear that they both shall suffer severe consequences."
"Of what consequences?" Gavin was puzzled. "It's not as if they're in love or anything." Renault slowly shut his eyes and gave a low sigh.
"That is where you are wrong, young Apprentice Tactician," the Bishop said. "Love has separated these two souls for over two years. Do you know why your master has lately been quiet and solemn?" Gavin shook his head.
"It was his pining for Fiora that kept him from having a hand in my studies, I suppose."
"Exactly. When the Dark Druid Nergal was slain two years ago at the Dragon's Gate, a strange sickness of the soul fell upon Mark. He was the last person to have gazed upon Nergal. If my teachings are correct, the darkness that Nergal once served have taken refuge within Mark."
"WHAT?!" Gavin leapt to his feet. "You mean that my Master is an insane man possessed by demons?!" Renault held his finger before his lips, asking Gavin to silence himself. The Apprentice sat down in a huff.
"I have carefully monitored Mark over the past two years," Renault continued. "So far, nothing major has sprung from him. But until lately, I was plagued by a dream."
"Of what? Of Mark going insane and hurling dark magic at the entire city?"
"... To an extent, yes."
"... You have got to be joking. I've known the Sunfire clan since I was a lad of four. Mark's father was the Lord of this city for crying out loud!"
"That may be so. But such noble ancestry does not cover up the dark side of their family. Heard you not of what had happened to Mark's great uncle Lord Leroy?"
"... ... ... I heard barbarians captured him en route to the Western Isles for a visit. Then he returned after sixteen years."
"Well, you've heard wrong. Lord Leroy was going insane with the dark magic within him. His family conspired to send him away at an early age but he had learned of such things from his trusty nurse. His nurse was sent away with the young Leroy. They returned sixteen years late once Leroy's parents died and his forgiving brother sent for him so that he can have his share of the estate. You can guess what happened after he returned from his sixteen year exile."
"Ah... I think I remember this now. Leroy slew his blood related family and took over Lordship of this city?"
"Exactly. The records of such things were destroyed and those who were loyal to the old family were eliminated. Fortunately, his parents were unpopular and so was his brother. They were all miserly with their gold and unwilling to help the common people. Until Leroy came back, the people had no choice but to suffer."
"Did the Marquess of Reglay know of such dealings?" Renault shook his head.
"This was a familial matter. The other Lords were smart enough to keep their noses away from this kind of business. Besides, they all liked Leroy in comparison with the rest of his immediate family."
"Can we get to the point, your honor? I know that as interesting as Master Mark's familial history is, I need to know why we must maintain high alert over him."
"YOU must keep watch of him for the next week. It'll take that long for him to recover. By that time, I'll be ready to take over the job of guarding him. For now, I must tend to Fiora. I fear that the darkness has also slipped within the knight of Ilia."
"How do you know?"
"The demon Fear and has lain hidden deep within the bodies of the Sunfire clan. It was their curse and now it is their burden. They guard Fear so that the world would not see the destruction of the world."
"Fear? A lone demon? What evil could one demon cause?"
"A lone demon cannot cause much chaos but it is not just that. There was another family, one of Ilian descent that has also borne the burden of guarding the soul of Horror, the demon brother of Fear. Legend has it that if the two souls who are bearing the burden of Fear and Horror to marry and copulate, their first born child would be the entity which both demon brothers will be housed within."
"So what you're saying is that if Fiora was a member of the other family which was charged with guarding the soul of Horror and that Mark was the guardian of Fear... does that mean--?"
"You are absolutely right. If these two carry out the prophecy of the legend, then the end of the world may come."
"I hope you're wrong."
"Just tend to your master's wounds for now. I must go and check on Fiora. If you cannot find me later, I will be back at my church. I will send several of my assistants to help you with your task." The Bishop Renault slid back his chair and stood up. Walking toward the main door, he looked back at Gavin. "Keep him in your sight."
"Why are you going back to your church?" Gavin asked as he also stood up.
"I must pray for the answer to our problem." Opening the door, a great blast of wind blew snow within the door. Renault walked out of the door with his eyes shut in meditation.
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Author Notes: This was the result of a month's labors (on my meager spare time) on this chapter. That's why... I never exactly posted this up as soon as I orignally thought two months ago...
But I am happy to say that around June 17th, I can resume regular progress. Finals are from the 10th to the 17th and school will be out by the 20th. Yay for me. By then, I'll make this thing go a tad faster.