Chapter 11
"You have to turn your hips and torso as a unit if you want more power in a linear thrust, Tristan," Dilandau stood in front of the dark haired boy watching his technique. The boy was nervous under his gaze, but obediently demonstrated his reverse punch again. This time Dilandau gave him a tiny shove and rolled his eyes as the boy toppled onto his backside.
"Center your weight please; try not to lean more to one side."
He moved on down the line, studying each Slayer's martial arts skill. During certain movements he couldn't differentiate between the Strings because they were all so good. He walked back to his throne and took a seat.
"Attention!" Dilandau barked. When all of his Slayers stood upright, hands at their sides, and chins in the air, he spoke again. "All right, very good practice today people. Take a lap, then you are dismissed."
He reclined a bit in his chair as he watched his Dragonslayers proudly. They were in mint condition, and the dragon would not stand a chance in hell against them. He smirked as he thought about the severe dressing down dear Martin had gotten for torching Astoria. The idea actually sounded like a lot of fun to Dilandau, and he might have torched Astoria himself, had he been there. He didn't mention that little tidbit to Folken though. The man didn't need to know everything about him.
Dilandau stifled a yawn; he was getting sleepy again. It still surprised him how tired he could get after a few hours. If he thought his Elite would let him get away with it, he would take a nap in his chair. It was comfortable enough.
"Lord Dilandau?" Gatty was at his side as if he'd heard Dilandau's previous thought. "Would you like to rest for a few hours? I can make sure everyone behaves themselves during the off period while you sleep."
Dilandau couldn't help but be amused by Gatty's behavior. All of his Slayers had been treating him as if he was made of spun glass. They ran ahead of him to open doors, someone had added pillows to his throne, and they always made sure he had cool, fresh water on hand. For breakfast, someone even ran ahead to fix his plates for him. He felt like a King and didn't object to the treatment. It was nice to know one was cared for, very nice. The looks in his Slayers' eyes when he would walk in, see what they had done for him, and nod his approval, made him smile. He didn't know when he'd become so important to them. He knew they respected him, and he knew they worshiped him, but it was different to know they loved him. Love was the only word that could describe their devotion.
And did he love them back?
Yes, yes he did. He had always known that. No harm would come to his Slayers as long as he breathed, and now he knew the feelings were mutual.
"Lord Dilandau?" Gatty's hand was on his arm. He blinked, the room coming back into focus slowly. Had he fallen asleep and not been aware of it?
"You'll get a crick in your neck if you sleep here," Gatty said softly. "Let me help you to your room, if that's where you care to go."
Dilandau nodded slightly and allowed Gatty to pull him up. "I have to eat first," Dilandau remembered sleepily.
"No problem," Gatty said placing a hand on the small of his back and urging him along. Shesta, Miguel, Viole, Dallet, and Guimel stood waiting for them at the bottom of the small platform chattering amongst themselves.
"Hey guys, could one of you go on to the mess hall and get Lord Dilandau something to eat?" Gatty asked.
"I'll get it," Shesta volunteered himself.
"Thanks Shes," Gatty said and then began to usher Dilandau from the room again. Dilandau allowed himself to be led; he was getting used to letting people help him. When they reached his room, Dilandau stripped out of his armor and crawled onto his bed. He grabbed one of his large pillows and curled up around it. He shut his eyes and inhaled the clean scent of the silk pillow case, while he reveled in the softness of the pillow beneath his cheek. He heard the gentle rustling of blankets and felt warmth as something soft and heavy was pulled over his frame.
"Don't get too comfortable, Lord Dilandau; food is coming for you soon," Gatty said.
"Who's fault will it be if I get too comfortable? You're the one who pulled this quilt over me," Dilandau murmured. An hour nap sounded good, maybe two hours. There wasn't another practice until that evening, and Folken didn't need him for anything.
Gatty chuckled, "You looked cold sir, not to give you that blanket would constitute as cruelty."
"Sure," a pleasant feeling of warmth and well-being washed over him. Sleep, it whispered to him, no harm will befall of you.
He heard faint voices from far`away speaking, "Just put it over there, he's falling asleep. He'll eat later."
"Are you sure that's ok? He's supposed to eat at certain times."
"He's too tired; I'm sure it'll be ok if we let him rest now."
"All right, we'll leave him be then."
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The Strategos made him nervous with his Sorcerer-like appearance. He masked his uneasiness with insolence. Rudeness was an acceptable trait in the military, fear was not. He frowned at the cloaked man who towered over him giving him instructions.
*You should be listening, not thinking about how creepy he is!*
Why don't YOU listen for a change and leave me to my thoughts. You said you wanted more control, but it seems you only want that control when we are enjoying ourselves. I will not do all the work and let you have all the play.
*You won't let me DO anything! When I have suggestions, you ignore them!*
If all of your suggestions didn't involve maiming our Slayers when they make a mistake in
training...
*Your precious Viole would benefit from a little martial discipline. How could you choose such a clown?*
He's intelligent and resourceful.
*I want to have more influence on who we pick in our next drafting round.*
Fine.
"Dilandau, are you listening to me?" Folken asked, his voice flat and emotionless.
Dilandau blinked, "Of course I am Strategos..."
Help me...
*He wants us to start taking leave with our Slayers. It's not healthy for someone our age to stay cooped up on the Vione all of the time. He thinks we should take a shuttle down to the city and spend time with our men.*
"...and I disagree. There are simply too many things to be done around here. While the men are below, I can start working on the new obstacle course or start programing the flight simulators you had built in."
You were actually listening!
*Well I knew you weren't.*
"How old are you Dilandau?" Folken asked staring at him dull-eyed.
"Thirteen," Dilandau said. "What does it matter? You're not going to give me a speech about my being too young to know what's good for me, are you? I'm beyond those types of speeches. I haven't been a child for a very long time, if I ever was one."
Folken's look of disinterest never wavered, "Go down and enjoy your free time Dilandau; you may not get anymore for a very long time."
Dilandau blinked after the tall man as he turned and walked away from him without formally concluding the conversation or even offering a "goodbye." Not that Dilandau cared about that sort of thing; he had never been thought important enough for his former masters to greet or give farewell to.
Well...what do you want to do? Personally I feel we have much to do and little time to waste in which to get it done.
*For someone who spends valuable practice time doodling that sounds mighty strange.*
You act as if I do it everyday! I don't, and when I do, it's after hours! I'm not wasting any practice time.
*Whatever.*
Well if you're so bitter about it, we'll practice now! How about that, huh? Happy?
*Give me control during the session.*
Dilandau frowned, he didn't like relinquishing control of his body. It was uncomfortable to be fully aware of what one was doing, but to have no power over it. Sometimes things he didn't approve of what happened, and he couldn't stop it. The fact that if she went too far while she was in control, he couldn't do a thing about it, scared the hell out of him. One time they struggled for dominance during a practice where she'd struck one of their new recruits, Guimel, and had been going for their sword to cut him with.
He'd barely won. She was getting stronger, and one day he might be the voice holding the map and giving directions while she had the keys to the vehicle.
*Well?*
Not this time
He felt a slight tinge of anger and frustration building behind his eyes and wondered if his face was flushed. Her feelings were starting to affect him and trigger changes in his body temperature and hormone production. They had been like separate entities at first, but now he was finding it hard to keep even his private thoughts from her.
But she could keep hers from him...
He stalked to the room Folken had given him right across from his own. It was large and spacious compared to the cramped living quarters he was used to staying in, but it didn't feel right for him to have such a large space to himself while his soldiers had to share a bunker in another part of the ship. He didn't visit the area often because he found it unpleasant. The older soldiers that were housed there as well were nothing short of swine. There were plenty of other rooms in the wing he resided in with Folken... his next demand would be to have his Slayers moved.
There were 10 of them now. He'd gone down and hand picked the next batch of Dragonslayers on his own. He didn't need a big military try-out to help him locate talent. Every soldier he chose he felt had potential to be molded into something great. He wanted them all to reach his level without going through the hardships he'd had to endure. He wanted to show his previous -still living- masters that there was another way to train soldiers that didn't involve them being cold, hungry, isolated, or beaten senseless.
He wanted to show her too, but she was making it difficult.
He snatched down the short daggers mounted on the dark paneled wall and shot a thoughtful glance around the dull, lifeless room. He'd been there for months, and it still looked as if no one resided in it. He had no real personal possessions or trinkets. He'd never been allowed to accumulate anything. The only things he owned were the clothes on his back and now his weapons, but if he were to be transferred to another fortress, he was pretty sure his new weapons would remain with the Vione.
He sighed, maybe he should start taking leave. Maybe he could find something to personalize his room, and he could buy something to wear other than uniform. He wondered how much money he had to spend. He'd never had an allowance before, but Folken let him know once he came aboard the ship some money had been put away in an account just for him. His Slayers were also given small stipends; subtle hints from Folken, that Dilandau had to strain to catch, led him to believe the monies his soldiers received were pennies compared to what he was being given, though.
Did the Sorcerers have anything to do with his new salary? Was it some sort of an apology for treating him so badly?
*Oh get your head out of the damn clouds Dilandau! Folken gives us that money because
he thinks we should be compensated for our hard work! He's the most decent adult we've ever encountered. Now get those daggers and come on!*
He growled at her wordlessly knowing she'd sense the sentiment behind his primitive response.
The gym was empty, save for the workout equipment that Dilandau put to good use. Working with his blades and getting his heart rate up felt so good he wasn't satisfied when it came time to quit, so he didn't. He lifted weights, ran laps, did push-ups and crunches, and came up with a better stretch routine to increase agility.
Oddly enough, he was having fun.
*What did I tell you, Dilandau? If only you'd listen to me more often! Don't you feel so much better now? Colored pencils could never make you feel this alive.*
No, Dilandau agreed toweling himself off. He'd removed his armor after he'd gotten through with his sharps work and had worked out in the plain clothes he wore under his armor, a white cotton short-sleeved shirt with brown cotton pants. The outfit was cool and comfortable, but made no fashion statement other than "homely."
*Now we need a shower...*
Or perhaps a bath... We've never used the large tub in the bathroom before. It's long and wide enough for us to relax in it.
*Why would anyone want to relax in a tub full of water? The purpose of baths is to get clean not to soak and bask.*
But others do it and they like it! Sensei LeBlanc always took long baths and came out smelling of roses and orchids. He was much more pleasant afterwards as well.
*Sensei LeBlanc was an odd one. I would never try to model myself after any of his habits. The other soldiers mocked him in his absence, or do you not recall this?*
Dilandau groaned outwardly. I'm taking a bath, and since you are stuck with me, you are taking one also!
*Bah...hygiene. If others didn't find the smell of a body immersed in its own natural scent so offensive, I would do away with all of it!*
Dilandau shuddered to think of such a thing. He liked being clean, and he loved the smell of fragrant soaps and shampoos. Never again would he let the woman control his body. He gathered his weapons and armor and slung his towel over his shoulder. Turning out the light as he left the room he began to whistle happily. He would take a long bath and maybe finish his sketch of the docking bridge; after â€" of courseâ€" he made sure there was no newly discovered work to be done.
He was so clouded in thought he nearly ran into one of his Slayers who was rushing toward him with a look of panic and great sorrow on his face. Dilandau held the trembling lad at arms length to get a good look at his pale face framed by fluffy brown hair. "Ryuuon? When did you return? I was told you and the rest of the unit were not to return for 3 more hours."
Tears coursed down the boy's face as he struggled to speak, "L...Lord Dilandau.... It's... We... Viole, Guimel, Dallet, Anwar, and I were in a bar. The bartender served us whatever we wanted for free, and some of were well beyond our stopping point. Anwar...gods...he's such a braggart with such a bad temper. He got into a quarrel with one of the other soldiers in the bar with us... No, no not a Dragonslayer!"
Dilandau lessened his grip when Ryuuon emptied his mind of the thought of his own men fighting amongst each other-but the halting way Ryuuon was telling the tale and the stricken look and tears upon his face, kept Dilandau silently on edge awaiting the rest of the story.
Had Anwar been injured; had he killed the other soldier and was not awaiting a sentencing in a jail cell below?
*You should have let me beat that temper of his out of him!*
Shut up!
"The soldier was so much bigger, and we tried to break up the fightâ€" we did! But Anwar, he wouldn't let us! He and the soldier pulled swords and... gods...he's dead. He was stabbed right through the heart; there was no way to save him! The man who killed him... he ran and Viole, Guimel, and Dallet chased after him. I found Gatty and told him, and he commanded we all return...but we couldn't find Viole, Guimel, or Dallet. Gatty, Shesta, and Miguel are still aground searching for them and the killer."
Dead.... Anwar.... Tall and lean, skin rich as the most expensive of chocolates, with eyes that shone like ebony, and burned with the fire of passion when it came to loyalty and victory. Beautiful Anwar, his second-in-command, was dead.
One of his Slayers had gone to a place Dilandau would never be able to rescue him from. Gods... Where had he gone wrong? He was training them to be the best...they were the best! How could one of his men be killed in a simple bar fight?
*You aren't hard enough on them! I TOLD you! Now will you listen to me?!*
Dilandau bit his lip as he released Ryuuon's shoulders and schooled his expression not to show his grief but instead his rage. "What has been done with Anwar? His...body?"
"It's... the local authorities wouldn't let us touch him. They took him; Lord Folken has already been alerted, and he's waiting for you on the deck. He wants you to go down with him to identify Anwar. His family..."
Anwar was of noble blood; news of his loss would bring his family much pain. Dilandau felt his insides freeze and his stomach clench. If he wasn't going to be sick, he feared he would faint. Could he look upon the lifeless body of one his Slayers? "I'll join Folken shortly; deliver my message to him."
He stalked away from Ryuuon's trembling form and continued on to his room, his mind reeling from the shock of loss. He should have been there; Folken told him he should have accompanied his Slayers! If he had been there, he would have fought for Anwar! He DID have more work to do, but instead he'd ignored it to take time for play. Once again being idle brought him pain.
He barged into his room letting his armor and weapons fall from his arms and clatter to the floor. He ran into the bathroom and threw himself in front of the commode to empty his stomach of all of its contents. He rose shakily from the porcelain throne wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He unsteadily made his way to the sink to rinse his mouth out and wash his hands. He splashed cold water on his face and ran his hands through his hair.
*Get yourself together Dilandau; one of our own was just killed! We will avenge his death, and with the way you look now, you will not strike terror into anyone's hearts!*
Dilandau swallowed hard, But...
*Shine your armor, get it on, grab your sword, and lets be on our way. The killer's trail grows colder for every second you stand doing nothing! We will show the world what happens when you touch what belongs to us!*
Yes.
Dilandau ventured back into the main room where he'd hastily discarded his armor and found his cloth to polish it quickly. When I kill the bastard, I want him to be impressed.
*And for the next bastard you have to kill?*
Dilandau began to pull on his overcoat, What do you mean?
*It's going to happen again and again, unless you change the way you insist on training our Slayers.*
I won't resort to senseless beatings and other acts of sadism.
Dilandau ran a brush through platinum hair limp with sweat from his workout.
*Then don't...but we can't let them get away with their small mistakes anymore. We have to make it known to them that being careless is not ok. Discipline never killed anyone. We don't have to beat them or lock them in cellars, but we can come up with other things...*
Hmm... other things?
*Yes, you're creative; together we should be able to come up with other more suitable punishments for inattentiveness.... There will never be another Anwar; not even one of our men is replaceable.*
No more accidents...
Dilandau nodded then gazed at himself in the mirror; his argent hair fell into his eyes at just the right angles so that it shielded the anguish reflected from their ruby depths. His lips curved in a bitter smile and he turned away from his reflection to collect his long sword.
He was going to enjoy spilling the man's blood, and tomorrow, he was going to drastically change the way he trained his troops.
*Will you let me help; would you let me take control?*
Only when I can no longer fight you...Dilandau whispered, praying she hadn't heard him. He hurried from the room and paced himself to the flight deck to meet Folken and catch the next convoy into town.
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Dilandau sat up in bed gasping and trying to free himself from the heavy blanket tucked around him. He'd tossed and turned so much in his sleep he'd ensnared himself within the folds of the cloth.
What the hell had that been? Had it been a nightmare or a memory? He tried to recall the dream, but all images of it had vanished. The only traces of it left were the overwhelming feelings of despair and failure.
He brought his knees to his chest and dropped his head on them. Anwar. He'd had a slayer named Anwar, and he'd been one of his best. Anwar had once held Shesta's position, but he hadn't thought about him in years. How could that be? He'd loved Anwar. He hadn't exactly chosen him to be a member of his team originally, but after working with the boy he'd seen his potential.
He paused in his thoughts with a frown. Why couldn't he remember what happened to Anwar, and why was he just now wondering why he couldn't? His body began to tremble; what the hell was going on? He climbed out of bed and pulled on his boots. He would ask Folken; Folken usually knew what he did not.
He walked past the plate of fruit and bread brought to him by his slayers. His stomach rumbled lightly, informing him of his hunger. He lifted the small plate; he'd just take it with him.
He opened the door to find Miguel and Viole standing sentry. "Lord Dilandau!"
Dilandau blinked, "Have you been waiting for me to come out?"
"Yeah," Viole said smiling brightly, "Miguel and I have a little dispute we need you to settle. You see, he seems to think he's a better guymelef pilot than me, which is so totally not true! Gatty won't give us our simulator scores, so I figured you could tell us."
Dilandau stared at the two before him. Miguel sighed heavily and rolled his eyes heavenwards, "Lord Dilandau, please ignore him. He's been trying everyone's nerves today. No one can stand him, and when they can't, they put him with me! Um...now may not be the most appropriate time to ask you this...but um.... Can I have a new partner?"
"Hey! You said you didn't want another partner!" Viole protested looking hurt.
Dilandau quietly slipped past the bickering slayers without them noticing. He wondered, in amusement, how long it would take them to realize he was gone. Dilandau stopped in front of the door to Folken's lab and stared at it hesitantly. Should he just go in, should he knock, did he really want to hear what Folken would have to say to him?
Dammit.
Miguel and Viole were still brabbling behind him, and he had no desire to be caught up in their silly altercation. Normally he wouldn't mind; he found both boys disporting. He knocked lightly on Folken's door before pressing the panel to open it.
Folken didn't look up as Dilandau let himself in and took a seat across from him at his work bench. "What's wrong?"
"Why does something always have to be wrong?" Dilandau asked, setting his plate down on the table. He gazed at the glass beakers and corked viles that held colorful fluids wanting to touch them and shake their contents to see if they would fizz. Folken had a long scroll spread out in front of him, and he held a pencil and compass.
"Because something usually is with you. Weren't you taking a nap?"
"I woke up," Dilandau said shortly. "What are you doing?"
Folken sighed and set down his work tools. He peered at Dilandau inquisitively before answering, "I'm finishing the plans for your new units. I've updated the Oreades and Alseides models. They won't be ready for your next mission, but you will have them soon."
Dilandau perked up, "Next mission?" He bit back a smile at the thought of leaving the Vione and taking to the air again. He missed piloting. He tucked a strawberry into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. His mood lightened and all of the previous feelings of darkness dissipated. Being in Folken's presence always seemed to make him feel a little better. Maybe he wouldn't ask about the forgotten dreams.
"Yes, Dilandau, a mission. We don't have the definite location of the dragon yet; the Emperor is having a hard time getting a fix on it. We'll need you to scout out the western borders of Freid. You and your Slayers need to be ready to depart in two days, if there are no problems."
"Freid?" Dilandau frowned; he hadn't been keeping up with the paperwork. Shesta always claimed he could handle it himself and shooed Dilandau away when he tried to help.
"Yes," Folken affirmed. "One of our Energist Sites was destroyed by the dragon a few days ago, and the last report said the dragon was heading in that direction."
Dilandau nodded. Shesta hadn't told him anything about this, but he knew the blond was probably well informed on the topic. Damn over-protective soldiers!
"So...?"
"So what?" Dilandau frowned, breaking off a bit of bread and putting it in his mouth.
"Did you come in here just to annoy me, or did you actually need something?" Folken scooted the stool he sat in closer to the table; his eyes never left Dilandau's. The line in his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read something on Dilandau's face. "Are you alright?"
"'M' fine," Dilandau murmured, mouth full.
Folken rolled his eyes, "Is this your first meal of the day?"
"No," Dilandau grumbled. "Do you really think my Slayers would let me go until the afternoon without eating anything? I really need to do something about them. They are driving me crazy. I swear Shesta tried to follow me into the bathroom and run my bath water for me! Next he's gonna try to wipe my ass after I use the..."
"Dilandau!"
Dilandau grinned impishly.
"What do you want?" Folken's voice sounded strained, and it intrigued Dilandau to see that he'd gotten under the Strategos's skin without even trying!
"Nothing, not really... not anymore, anyway," Dilandau said crunching on another fruit. He looked thoughtfully at Folken. "Folken? Do you....remember Anwar?"
Folken started lightly and looked at Dilandau oddly, "Anwar? You recall him?"
Dilandau narrowed his eyes at Folken's reaction, "I don't think I've ever forgotten him...but I'm only thinking of him now. He was killed... one of my slayers was killed, and I haven't thought on it once since then. Why?"
Folken was quiet for a moment as he contemplated his answer, "Dilandau, after Anwar's murder, the Sorcerer's took you. When you returned you spoke nothing of him, and your slayers would not speak of anything you would not. I figured something had been done to modify your memories... at the time of Anwar's death, you became rather irate."
Dilandau exploded, "Of course I did! One of my men was killed! How was I supposed to behave? Was I successful in disposing of Anwar's killer?"
Folken nodded, "And you were also successful at disposing of most of the men that belonged to that man's unit. You wouldn't stop until they were all dead...and..."
"So they took me. Just how often did they take me? How many memories do I not have? I've been having some strange dreams as of late... ones I do not remember the events of, but I recall the feelings clearly. In them, I am not one, but two people. I could feel another presence in my mind... I think it was Celena...I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore. I figured.... I thought you would know what I don't. Tell me Folkenâ€" are my dreams flashbacks of things I can't remember?"
Folken blinked, "Dilandau, without knowing what your dreams are about, I cannot tell you the answer to that. Anwar's death was real. Yes, your mind has been tampered with. Yes, some of things you remember may not be true. Yes, it is possible your dreams are lost recollections of events that wish to resurface and become part of you once more. The longer you are away from the influence of the Sorcerer's, the more you come back to yourself. Dilandau, you were truly a different person before the separation. You shed moods like some reptiles shed their skins. I do believe not all of the mood swings can be attributed to your will. You and Celena were one being, but with two different minds. Now that I actually have had the chance to see you apart from her influence, I do believe she was the more violent of the two of you, and her nature was becoming more evident in your rash actions. Maybe a separation wasn't the smartest choice ever made by the Sorcerer's, but something had to be done to gentle her. You hold a position of power with mass weapons of destruction at your disposal. Zaibach does not want an unstable wielder to hold its power. You, Dilandau, are perfect. I've seen you sit and think through battle simulation, instead of just charging in head first flamethrower ready. I've seen your strategies and ideas in the control room. I've watched you solve the most complicated of puzzles in mere moments. You are exactly what the Emperor wants..."
"Me without her..." Dilandau murmured. "But... we... Sometimes when I wake up, I feel her. We needed each other... we still do. Folken, what do you think they did with her?"
Folken shook his head, "That I can't tell you, Dilandau."
"You couldn't find out for me?" Dilandau pushed the half-eaten plate of food away him, his appetite sated. He was starting to feel a bit queasy. Even if he couldn't feel her now, he would know if Celena was dead....wouldn't he? His insides clenched as he realized he would not.
"I could try Dilandau, but I'm trying not to draw too much attention to you. I don't want the Madoushi to believe there's a problem and take you from the Vione again."
"But there is a problem," Dilandau breathed. "Please Folken...find out for me. I'll do....anything. I'll...." Oh gods, help me... "I'll... forget about my business with your brother, just find her for me, please? I have so much I need to ask her, and if she's here, I just know I'll get better. Please?"
Folken gave a deep suspiration, "I'll do my best Dilandau, but only if you promise to do something for me first."
"What's that?" Dilandau clamped down on the excitement building in his heart.
"Finish eating."
Dilandau smiled and rested a hand on the table, "You could have had anything from me, and you asked for that?"
"Would you have me ask for more?"
Dilandau shrugged, a frown marring his fair features as he pondered that question. Folken could have asked for the stars in the night, and Dilandau would have killed himself trying to pluck them from the sky. But on a realistic level, he discovered... he didn't mind the idea of doing things for Folken. Folken, after all, was saving his life. Folken gave him the freedom he'd never had growing up. Folken took care of him...
Did he love Folken as he loved his Slayers?
"Yes."
Folken blinked at Dilandau's soft admission.
"You would?"
Dilandau shook his head. Yes, he loved Folken as he could have loved a father or an older sibling. "Folken, if you ever need anything, just ask it of me, and it will be done."
It was Folken's turn to smile, "And how long is this to be good for?"
"For as long as you have breath to ask, and I have breath to give," Dilandau said simply. He gazed back at his plate and forced his eyes to find the sight attractive and his stomach to regain its appetite. He bit into another fruit slice and pretended not to notice Folken's eyes upon him.
What was he thinking?
Maybe....
No. Folken had a brother, one that he loved. But... maybe...
Maybe he had room for two brothers.
Allen stood at the helm of the Crusade feeling very pleased with himself. Not only had he managed to escape the King's dungeon, but he'd resisted temptation as well. After aiding Van in his escape from Astoria, Allen had been thrown into the royal dungeon by order of King Aston. With a little help from Princess Millerna, he'd been set free, but what he hadn't expected was for the love smitten princess to try to accompany him on his voyage to Freid.
They reached the large airship together and when he turned to say goodbye, he discovered the princess had no plans of going anywhere but with him. It was at that moment Princess Eries had shown up, glaring at Allen as if Millerna's decision to runaway with him was his fault. Well....maybe it partly was... but he had in no way encouraged the girl to go with him, not this time.
Millerna had looked up at him, her large blue eyes glistening like twin lakes with the sun setting upon them. That look had melted him before...when it had belonged to Marlene...
Millerna did look a lot like her sister, and she acted a lot like her too. Maybe that was why Allen could never quite push the girl's affections aside. He knew it would hurt her in the long run, as Princess Eries had oh-so-kindly pointed out a few nights prior.
Allen had shaken his head, erasing visions of Marlene from his sight as he gazed at Millerna. They were two different people, and he had to quit trying to morph Millerna into Marlene. He'd scooped the young princess up and carried her back to the carriage they'd arrived in. He laid her upon the velvet seat and gazed down at her for a brief moment before shutting the door behind him and venturing back to the Crusade feeling the heat of Eries' glare on his back.
He sighed deeply; he'd sort out the mess with Millerna later. He knew he couldn't just leave the girl with hopes that he'd someday come back to her as a lover. It just wouldn't be right to give ones heart to two women in the same family...it was dishonorable.
And what would he tell her about the boy?
Allen felt a sharp pang in his stomach as he thought about the young blond future duchy of Fried. Would the boy look like him now? He and Marlene had been afraid that he would...
He shook himself. Not now.
Now he would worry about reaching Freid before Zaibach attacked. Damn King Aston for letting those bastards walk all over him and sell the safety of his own nephew for the sake of his hide.
Freid seemed to have something that Zaibach wanted, and Allen was as curious to know what that was as he was anxious to get to Freid to protect the small duchy.
He wondered if he would be reunited with Van and Hitomi there? Probably so. The King of Fanelia always seemed to turn up whenever there was about to be trouble, whether he be the cause of it, the solution to it, or both.
He smirked lightly; he would no doubt be coming to the aid of the King of Fanelia again, and he looked forward to it.
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"A mission tomorrow?" Gatty raised an eyebrow at Folken. "You don't think it's too soon Lord Folken? I mean, I understand the Emperor is getting restless....but one more day certainly couldn't make all that much more of a difference."
"The King of Fanelia isn't our only problem Gatty. I fear a ship from Astoria is on its way to warn Freid of our intentions, which will spoil any attempts on our part at a surprise attack," Folken said gravely. He fought the impulse the rub his temples to relieve the stress building there.
Gatty frowned deeply, "Alright... but is it necessary for Lord Dilandau to participate? Do you not think you could convince him to send us on our own, with me in charge, perhaps? We haven't tested his flight performance in a guymelef since he started your treatments. What if there are adverse effects when operating machinery? He still requires a nap during the day and has to be reminded to eat. I just don't think he's ready."
Folken agreed with the serious-eyed boy before him, but did not speak a word in favor of his opinion. Maybe Dilandau wasn't ready to take on the task of going after the dragon just yet, but there was no way Folken could allow him to remain behind this time. That was why he'd been updating the Oreades unit. He was trying to make it more user- friendly with a cockpit sensitive to biorhythms and an automatic autopilot that would kick in if those biorhythms were to become unstable or erratic.
Unfortunately, that project wouldn't be completed until after this new mission. Gatty sighed loudly at Folken's silence, "I'm going to assume you agree with me on my call sir, but can't do anything about it. Am I right?"
Folken gazed at the boy impassively; Dilandau had chosen his first-in-command well. He'd always admired Gatty and the way he could take charge in Dilandau's stead. It eased Folken's mind a bit to think that both he and Shesta would be along to supervise their impulsive captain.
"I trust you'll take care of him out there Gatty, so I have nothing to worry about," Folken said and Gatty blinked.
"Sir."
Folken hid a smirk as the blond bowed and waited for the expected dismissal, which Folken issued.
"I wish you good fortune on your mission."
"Thank you, sir."
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I wish you good fortune on your mission. Bullshit. Gatty was ready to throttle the Strategos that had emotionlessly stood in front of him. Damn, stoic, pointy-headed....
No, thinking ill thoughts about the Strategos was not going to improve his situation any, but still, the humor in calling Lord Folken names did lighten his heart a bit. Gatty needed to find something to do that would take the edge of the lance of fear that penetrated his gut every time he thought of Lord Dilandau outside of the controlled environment of the Vione in his condition. Granted, Lord Dilandau was doing much better... but... He was still no where near up to his normal level of activity.
He heard the ringing sound of swords clashing as he walked past the Dragonslayers' gym and poked his head inside. Maybe whoever it was would let him spar with the winner of the duel. A good fencing match might help him work off some of his nervous energy.
His eyes went wide, and he froze in the doorway at seeing Miguel and Lord Dilandau locked together in a furious tango of sharp weapons. They faced each other with cutlass and dagger, moving in a manner that Gatty only dreamed he could. Lord Dilandau's form was superb as always, but Miguel met him strike for strike. The display was awe-inspiring, and Gatty moved forward as in a trance enthralled by the glinting silver of the weapons. The dance went on for minutes before Lord Dilandau finally relieved Miguel of his long sword and had his dagger at his throat.
"You could of had me, Miguel. Why did you let up?" Lord Dilandau asked breathlessly. He sheathed his sword and tucked his dagger back into his belt. The captain was uncharacteristically winded, and Gatty frowned, wondering if Lord Dilandau required assistance.
Miguel laid back on the mat for a moment, trying to catch his breath as well. "I didn't let up on you. I didn't go for the obvious kills, because that would have shortened a wonderful match with a more than worthy opponent. It has been a while since I've sparred with someone with real skill, sir. I wasn't going to exploit advantages that wouldn't have presented themselves, had you been fully up to the challenge."
Lord Dilandau fumed silently as Gatty cursed Miguel for his lack of tact. But then again, Lord Dilandau liked for his soldiers to be honest, and Miguel was very responsible when it came to fulfilling that particular duty.
"Get up Miguel," Lord Dilandau grumbled. Miguel pulled himself to his feet with a tired grunt.
"It was a good spar, sir," Miguel said quietly. "In a few days, perhaps we could do it again, and that time, you will best me in every way possible."
Lord Dilandau nodded with a tired sigh, "Perhaps."
Miguel's sharp eyes studied Lord Dilandau thoroughly, "I think we overdid it, today, sir. Lord Folken's not going to be pleased at all."
Lord Dilandau rolled his eyes heavenward, "Folken's being overprotective. Tomorrow we fly to Freid, and I need to flex my muscles. If he hadn't insisted I stay inactive for so long, I might be back in shape by now. Stupid Folken..."
Gatty lifted an eyebrow as he detected no malice in the statement where there probably should have been. "How long are you going to stand over there and eavesdrop, Gatty? What do you want?"
Gatty jumped and fought the urge to giggle sheepishly at both Lord Dilandau and Miguel staring at him impatiently. "Uh....nothing, really. I just heard swords and came to see who was fighting. I was hoping to challenge the victor; I need an outlet for some nervous energy."
Lord Dilandau blinked, "I'm tired, Gatty; challenge Miguel. By all means, he should have won today anyway."
Miguel looked startled at Lord Dilandau's admittance of weakness as did Gatty. That made two in one day. "Is something the matter, sir?"
Lord Dilandau shook his head, "Yeah...me. I'm going to go look over the mission outline and make sure the probably course of the dragon has been plotted correctly. There would be nothing worse than flying all the way to Freid and then finding out the dragon's in Basram."
Gatty and Miguel watched him leave without offering any parting words, other than to press the cutlass he'd used into Gatty hands. Gatty thought about following the pale captain, but paused as he heard the song of a blade being whipped through the air. He turned to see Miguel standing in a fighting stance, looking pointedly at him, cutlass and dagger ready.
"En garde, Gatty," Miguel said softly.
Gatty could hardly be surprised; Miguel had such a one track mind at times. Gatty quickly brought the cutlass he'd been given into a forward stance and withdrew the dagger from his belt. "Touche."
He and Miguel watched each other warily while they moved in a small circle with their weapons at ready. Miguel wouldn't attack first, Gatty already knew, and he could be extremely patient when he needed to be. Gatty once tried to wait the boy out and force him to attack first....after an hour, he'd given up on that crazy notion. He sighed and lunged at Miguel, bracing himself for the parry. Miguel was very heavy armed and the absorbed shock of his blows could be very painful when one wasn't prepared for them.
"You have that look on your face," Miguel said, delivering his first attack.
"What look?" Gatty questioned, marveling at how easily Miguel could carry on a conversation through a match.
"That old man look you get when you're worried about something. Not feeling confident about tomorrow's mission?" Miguel asked, scoring a hit and tapping Gatty's armor lightly on the shoulder.
"Are you?" Gatty asked, cursing himself for letting Miguel slip through his defenses.
Miguel's face looked pinched, "Not really. I... He's strong, and it really was a good match; he certainly put up a better fight than you are right now, but he was right. I really could have taken him, if I wanted to. It scared me to know that. Every time I saw an opening, I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. His reaction time has been slowed, and he gets winded too quickly. He hasn't flown his guymelef in a while, but if his reaction time is slowed in open hand to hand combat, imagine it in a guymelef. He'll be in danger, if we run into the dragon again. The King of Fanelia is no slouch with a sword, and his piloting skills may have grown to match that."
Gatty nodded, "I don't think he's ready either. I tried to talk to the Strategos about it, and gods Miguel, he agrees; he just can't do anything about it. I think it has something to do with the Sorcerers."
"That wouldn't surprise me," Miguel remarked, relieving Gatty of his cutlass easily. "Everything about Lord Dilandau always has something to do with the Sorcerers. I really would like to know why. The Sorcerers never want anything to do with us or anyone else aboard the Vione... just Lord Dilandau, and now they've finally screwed up. Folken's trying to hide the problem, because he's afraid if they find out, they'll try to fix it and screw Lord Dilandau up even more. Well... all I have to say about that is: they'll have to go through me first."
Gatty chuckled at Miguel's intensity, his dark blue eyes burned with passionate fire. He didn't gasped as the dagger was kicked from his hands, and he found himself flat on his back with Miguel's sword at his throat. Sometimes he wondered why Miguel wasn't made Lord Dilandau's first- in- command or even the second. He was superior to just about everyone, but Lord Dilandau, when it came to swordplay skills. Lord Dilandau was usually caught sparring with Miguel at odd hours, when he would spar with no other soldier under his command.
But alas, Gatty rolled his eyes at Miguel's arrogant smirk; Miguel's haughtiness would always be his undoing. Gatty hooked a leg around Miguel's ankle, causing Miguel to lose his balance. Gatty sprang to his feet, grabbing his lost dagger swiftly and pinning Miguel beneath him with the obelisk at his jugular.
Miguel growled under him, "That wasn't fair, Gatty."
"I hadn't surrendered yet," Gatty laughed. "You should never count anything as a victory until you are completely sure the enemy has given up, Miguel. I'm sure you notice how I'm pinning you down, even though I have you at a very deadly disadvantage. If you had decided to defeat Lord Dilandau earlier, I doubt you would have dealt with him as you dealt with me, if you got him down."
Miguel shook his head, averting his eyes in shame. "He fights like a demon, when you get him on the ground. That's why I never agree to wrestle with him. I should not have underestimated you, Gatty. I won't do it again."
Gatty smiled, "That's all I ask, Mr. Lavariel. So, do you surrender?"
"Yeah, yeah," Miguel grumbled and sat up as Gatty stood.
"So what are you planning to do about tomorrow's situation?" Miguel questioned, taking the hand Gatty offered him down to him.
Gatty sighed, "I don't know. I'll have to talk to Shesta about it. I bet he's come up with 10 different plans by now, and that sneaky bugger will know how to act on those plans right under Lord Dilandau's nose."
Miguel snorted, "Probably so. Would you mind if I tagged along to your meeting with Shesta? I need something else to do that would make me seem busy, before Viole comes to find me and decides I need to be entertained."
"Gods.... then by all means, let me help you out," Gatty laughed and clapped Miguel on the back. "Lets put away these swords first."
"Alright."
********************************************************************************************
Shesta frowned at the course of the dragon Viole was plotting for him. The path was not clear; the boy king was not taking a preferred route to Freid. They would have to scour the forest areas around the borders. The mission could go on for days before anything was discovered.
"Face it, Shes; anyway we look at it, this mission is going to suck," Viole said, setting down his pencil. "To scan the entire perimeter will take week at minimum."
Shesta groaned and rubbed his hands over his eyes, "I know, I know..."
"Know what?" the door to the bedroom Shesta and Gatty shared opened to admit Gatty and Miguel.
"Miguel!" Viole beamed. "Miss me, already?"
Miguel's eyes widened in shock, "Viole?! I just can't get away from you!"
Viole dimpled, "I've got a magnetic personality. People just can't stay away from me. I'm dangerous."
"I'm getting a headache..." Miguel mumbled, he looked at the map on Shesta's desk Viole was working on, as he ventured further into the room. "It this the Freidian border?"
"Yes," Shesta nodded. "There's no way to get around the period of time this mission may take. The dragon is not on a direct course, and it may be difficult to locate it. We could be out in the wilderness of Freid for a week or more before we see anything. We'll have to set up camp, because there is no way Lord Dilandau should be allowed to remain in a guymelef for that long. He will try, if we let him, though." Shesta rubbed his chin, "I think we're going to have to take shifts, half on ground, half in air. We'll keep him on ground as much as possible, make him believe he's more needed there."
"He'll see through that and roast you with his flame thrower," Viole pointed out. "The ground shift, air shift thing sounds very practical, and Lord Dilandau will readily agree to that, if he hadn't already thought of it himself. But, as for keeping him safe on ground longer than he's in air, it's not gonna happen. Just be happy he will only be piloting half of the time, and you do realize that if the dragon is found, there is no way he's going to stay out of the fight."
"Arg," Shesta pulled at his hair. "You're right. That tenacious bastard will never know what's good for him."
"Shesta!" Viole, Gatty, and Miguel gapped at the blond. Had he really just called their leader a...
"What? He is, and do not try to convince me that you think I'm lying!" Shesta huffed. "It looks like our best game plan is to watch him like a hawk. If he falters, one of us will be there to get him out of harm's way."
Shesta glared at the quiet smirks he was being given.
"Shesta, I don't think I've ever heard you speak out so strongly," Gatty said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his giggling.
"Well expect to hear more of it tomorrow," Shesta growled. "This has to be one of the dumbest things we've ever done. I'm going to take a shower." Shesta went to his closet to grab his bath bucket, towel, and robe and stormed out of the room.
"Well, I feel sorry for any dragon that runs into him," Viole chortled. "So Miguel, you ready to hang out with me?"
"I think I'm gonna catch a shower too; bye Gatty!" Miguel hurriedly left the room, deserting Gatty with Viole, who grinned at him happily.
"So Gatty...looks like it's you and me. What do you wanna do?" Viole folded his hands over each other. "I know; I've got some new jokes I haven't tested out yet. You can be the judge and tell me if they're good or bad. Miguel's no good at this; he usually just tells me all of my jokes are bad. He has no sense of humor, but you, Gatty, I believe you are a man of fine taste. Now, once upon a time there was this little dog, and his name was Miguel. Now Miguel had problems..."
Gatty's head drooped and he sat on the edge of his bed with a moan. Today just wasn't his day.
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She thinks my wings are pretty. Should I feel good about that or should my masculinity be insulted? Van wondered to himself. The night was quiet and uneventful, so it was easy for one to lose oneself in thought. The only sounds were the Escaflowne's heavy footsteps as it cut through the underbrush of the woods, the hiss of a breeze, and the light chirping of crickets. Hitomi and Merle rested in the giant palm of the guymelef, staring out into the night like it was some spectacular show. Van didn't see anything out there that amused him, but he kept that thought to himself. He believed he liked girls better when they didn't try to hold conversation with him.
He sighed, so what did he think of Hitomi now? She had seen his wings and claimed to like them. She had saved his life more than once now, and he felt sure that she might be attracted to him. That attraction would probably dull once they met back up with Allen, but it was nice while it lasted. Could he find himself obsessed with Hitomi in the same way he was obsessed with a certain pale captain of Zaibach?
Did Hitomi and Dilandau really fit into the same category? Dilandau was strange, and beautiful, and just something so totally new to Van's senses; he fascinated him to no end. Was that infatuation or just plain curiosity? Did Van want to be with him or just be like him?
It hurt his head to think about it all and to try to sort it out. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't feel the same way abut Hitomi that he felt about Dilandau. Meaning if he had any feelings for either one of them, they were different. So perhaps he was attracted to Hitomi and only curious about Dilandau. Or it could be the other way around... though he knew thoughts of Dilandau were much more interesting than thoughts of Hitomi. It would probably take mere days to unravel the mystery of that girl, where with Dilandau, Van figured, it could take years...if ever. Van wasn't a very patient person, but he could learn to be patient if it meant conquering a challenge.
But... he slowed his excited thoughts and racing heart, whoever said that challenge was ever going to present itself to him? Dilandau was an enemy sworn to kill Van. He and Van would always be on opposite sides of the spectrum. Van would never get his chance to learn more, and that thought made his heart ache. He was losing something he never had, really. So, how could it hurt so much?
If Hitomi were to leave, would he feel the same pain? He actually had her; he should probably hurt more...but for some reason, he didn't think he would. So was it infatuation or curiosity?
Maybe the feelings were one in the same. He just didn't know; he wasn't experienced enough! He had no role models to learn from and no mentor to ask. Could he really be attracted to another male? He'd heard it was possible, but he'd never seen it. How would he know? The only way he could think of to figure it out was to try it, but he'd never get the chance with Dilandau. He could try with another male, but the idea of that didn't move him. Maybe Dilandau was the only male he could be drawn to...or maybe he wasn't drawn at all... just bedazzled.
At times like these he could really use an older brother.
Gods, Folken, I NEED you! How dare you desert me? Zaibach doesn't need you, I do! You were bound to me, mother, and Fanelia. You've failed us all and for that, I'll never forgive you.
He glanced over at Hitomi then, wiping the anguish from his mind and smiling at how the light breeze ruffled her short hair. Her green eyes were intense as they looked straight ahead. Van decided she was beautiful too, and maybe he could make her into something just as interesting as Dilandau was.
He had a crush on a dream that lived with a brother he hated; now it was time to have a crush on reality.
"Van? Where are we headed?" Hitomi's voice ripped him from daydream.
"The Duchy of Freid ought to be somewhere near here," Van said in a casual manner, praising himself at keeping his voice level as he tried to quell the stampeding emotions trampling over him.
He heard the girl gasp and looked to see her body tensing as her head jerked from side to side, as if she were searching for something in the dark wilderness, "Van, wait!"
"What is it?" Van asked her, halting the Escaflowne's movements. He looked around too, but saw nothing.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Hitomi breathed. "I don't know what it is, but..."
"Oh no..."Merle moaned, "is something there?"
There came a sound of wood snapping and leaves and branches rustling violently. Something was coming... but Van still couldn't see anything!
Was it Zaibach; was it Dilandau?
"They're here; I know they're here," Hitomi said eerily. She closed her eyes and her soft features gained a look of deep concentration. Her eyes snapped open after a few second and she shouted, "Van, straight ahead!"
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"Second String, I want you to cover the west quadrants, Third String the east; the Elite will follow me," Dilandau ordered. "Second and Third will not engage in combat but will remain in stealth, unless given permission from me."
"Yes sir!" chorused ten voices through his radio. He watched the two strings break away. He needed to spread his troops in order to find the dragon quicker, but he did not want his less skilled slayers going up against the dragon without their superiors to shadow them. He did not doubt their abilities, but he also didn't want to take any chances with their lives.
He stifled a yawn; they had been on the hunt for two days and had seen hide nor hair of the dragon. They had most likely beaten it to its destination, and precious Van would get a very unpleasant surprise when he entered Dragonslayer infested woods. Dilandau chuckled to himself darkly. Poor little Van...
Of course, he wasn't allowed to kill him. He had told Folken he wouldn't, but that didn't mean he couldn't rough him up a bit. He waited for the familiar tinge of excitement and thrill to heat his blood and make his heart race, but it never came. He sighed...
He should have been exhilarated by his current situation; he was, after all, lying in wait for an unsuspecting enemy! The fight would be glorious in the woodland setting. The tall trees with their thick leaves would burn marvelously, and the screams of the two girls with the king would echo through the halls of the forest. He normally would have cackled at the prospect; now, he just frowned.
His insides felt cold, and he was tired. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to his warm bed and curl up with a...a book. A book! He hadn't thought of reading one of those for recreation in.... Since...
Well, he couldn't remember...anything. But he knew that once upon a time, he used to like that. He brought a hand to his temple, massaging the new headache brewing there away. He didn't have time for thinking about petty things he could not remember now. It wasn't appropriate.
"Lord Dilandau, should we set down for the evening?" Gatty's voice crackled over his speakers.
"No, not yet," Dilandau said. "We'll circle for another hour." His Elite Slayers were coddling him, and it was annoying the hell out of him. He had already reamed them out for doing it twice the day before, and they would stop for hours afterward, then start right back. He was wasting his breath. He wanted to say he felt as if he was losing the respect of his soldiers in his weakness, but he knew he wasn't. He was gaining something else to add to the respect he'd won from them... their friendship.
That was crossing the line in the military handbook. A good commander is not supposed to be friends with his men, loved by them, yes, but never friends. He was going against everything he'd been trained in a matter of weeks. The Madoushi would be furious when they found out...or rather, if. Folken wasn't going to let them think anything was wrong.
Dilandau smiled, Folken was breaking the rules too. As long as he wasn't alone in his misconduct, then he didn't feel so bad about itâ€" that is, if he felt bad about it at all.
Something beeped at his wrist, and he groaned. Time to take his medicine. Folken had increased the dosage, after seeing how well his system was responding to the new chemicals. The drugs made Dilandau feel strange at times, sometimes nauseous, drowsy, and dizzy, but he stopped experiencing the frightening spells of losing control of his mind and body. He could put up with an upset stomach, shakiness, and even naps, if it meant he could be rid of insanity forever.
He located the small bottle of capsules in the compartment above his periscope. He had never been in the air when he took his medication, and he wondered if maybe he should have taken Gatty's suggestion to set down for the evening.
"Um, Lord Dilandau..." Shesta... If there was ever a time he needed a sedative... "Lord Folken programed my systems to sound when it's time for you to..."
His voice faltered at the growl from Dilandau.
"I see you have one too. Well, I don't know if it's such a good idea for us to be in flight mode while you're..."
"I'm fine, Shesta," Dilandau tapped his fingers on his counsel. He needed to correct his earlier thought; he wasn't gaining friendship; he was gaining mothers! He shuddered to think that he might come to be known as the procreation product of Viole. He could feel his nerves shattering, and without a second thought, he popped two capsules into his mouth. "Too late anyway, I've already taken them."
"Yes sir," Shesta sighed.
He was tired of them sighing too. He was going to start counting all of their sighs and have them run two laps for every one when they got back to the Vione. He relaxed in his chair and let his eyes close. He hoped the dragon showed up soon; he was ready to go home where his bath oils and books were.
"Hey, what's that? Is that them?" Viole's voice woke him from his light doze. What?
He pulled down his periscope to get a clear view of the ground. Something large was moving through the trees. He narrowed his eyes and magnified the image, then smiled darkly as he identified his target. Hello, Van. "Ok, prepare to descend, we're going to surround the dragon. Gatty, Shesta, east; Miguel, Viole, west; Guimel, Dallet, south; I'll take north. Do nothing until I command it."
"Yes sir!"
They began their descent and nestled into the thickets, turning on their invisibility cloaks. Van was going to walk right into their web like a big stupid bug and he was going to use his Oreades to step on him. He chuckled... ooh, now he was getting excited. It just took a little time.
But he had to remember, no killing Van.
Nope, he wouldn't kill him; he'd just set him on fire...but only a little bit, Folken would still be able to recognize himâ€" he hoped.
Hmmm.... he readied his flame thrower, but decided to turn the heat of the flames down a notch. "Attack on my signal."
They knew better than to ask what his signal was going to be.
At his will, fire spewed from the arm of his Oreades that should have hit the unaware monarch dead center, but... he moved!
What the hell? How did he...?
Arms of liquid metal whipped out to strike Van almost simultaneously, and he dodged each attack. Ok... Just what was this guy? It was almost like he could see them, but that was impossible. The only reason why Dilandau knew the position of his soldiers was because he'd positioned them. Whatever technology Van had aboard that tacky, white, antique guymelef, Dilandau wanted.
"He's moving as if he can see us!" Gatty reported.
The Escaflowne suddenly surged forward and began running at a rapid pace.
"After him!" Dilandau ordered, stunned at Van's hasty retreat from the area. It was obvious to him that they were being led somewhere, but Dilandau allowed it. They'd come to close to let the dragon get away now. He converted his Oreades into flight mode and sped after the large white machine, satisfied as he heard the whirring of six more engines buzzing behind him, also in flight mode.
The Escaflowne broke through the copse and directly into a lake. Dilandau rolled his eyes and followed, plunking his machine down in the lake as well. His majesty seemed to think he was being clever. Stealth cloaks would do his men no good over water...but they didn't seem to do much good over land either, so what was the difference?
"Crima Claws, now!" Dilandau ordered, standing back for a moment as two Alseides fired their liquid metal at the King. He barely dodged the attacks, and that was when Dilandau waltzed into the affair, extending a Crima Claw to use as a sword. He struck the Escaflowne twice, using vicious down blocks and forcing the white guymelef to take few steps back. "Again!" he yelled to his slayers.
More liquid metal struck at the dragon, landing disabling hits, and Dilandau giggled. He once again met steel with the King and dissolved his blade so that it melded around the sword of the Escaflowne, "Gotcha now. Gatty, Miguel, close in."
They had the dragon in their possession again, and best of all, he was still fully in control, albeit a little winded. The small scuffle had taken a toll on him, and his energy was nearly spent. This was going to be a problem. What if the fight had taken longer?
"Lord Dilandau!"
Dilandau jumped at the shout, but ease his hold on Van. Something large and heavy was coming at them fast from the left, and Shesta cried out. Dilandau heard the heavy crash of the metal sword of a guymelef meeting an Alseides and the swishing of liquid metal being sluiced through.
Dammit. "It's Schezar! Tighten up!" Gatty yelled. "Protect Lord Dilandau."
Dilandau blinked, last time he checked, he was the one giving the orders. But...he thought, as Van struggled against him, he was rather preoccupied at the moment. Let the Slayers deal with Schezar; he'd get Van.
"Don't let him break through, watch it Miguel!" Gatty snapped.
Another scream, Viole that time. Dilandau tightened his grip on Van's sword, forcing the Escaflowne to its knees, but he was torn. It was torture to listen to his Slayers struggling and to not do a thing.
"Oh shit! Heads up, Lord Dilandau!" Guimel yelled before shouting in surprise himself when his guymelef was slashed.
Scherazade crashed down on him from overhead, its sword severing the liquid metal hold Dilandau had on Van. Van called in delight beneath Dilandau, "Allen!"
"Hello Van, I knew we'd meet again!" Allen greeted the King, and Dilandau rolled his eyes. He was starting to feel nauseous, and he was sure it wasn't because of Folken's capsules. He tightened his grip on his controls and got his Oreades back into ready position. If he was tired while fighting Van, he was exhausted to think he was going to have to fight Allen Schezar. He felt a dull quiver of thrill shudder through his veins, but it wasn't enough to give him the strength to come through another battle. He gritted his teeth as he realized Schezar might win this one.
Schezar's guymelef turned to his, awaiting Dilandau's attack.
Condemn it all to Hades... Dilandau threw himself head first into the assault. Damn you, Schezar, for showing up and ruining an easy capture. Yes, yes, we'd be on our way home, if it wasn't for you.
Dilandau needed to be angry. Anger usually energized him and sent him to a place where his reflexes were quicker than a serpent's and his blows strong as those of ten men together. He could feel the fury heating his blood, but it was no where near the level he needed. Schezar was clearly not pulling his strikes. He would have tried his flamethrower, but his Slayers were too close, and there was no way they would retreat. Dilandau and Schezar traded furious blows, gliding across the water like swans in an aquatic ballet.
He was blocking Schezar hit for hit and even delivering attacks of his own, but it wouldn't last for long. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed back up. He flinched as he heard Dallet's colorful exclamation and the loud hiss of the hull of an Alseides being punctured. If he could curse, he was ok, Dilandau assured himself.
This was turning into a disaster. Should he call in his Second and Third String? Reinforcements would be nice; he probably should have called them earlier, but earlier there had only been Van, and they'd had him under control. This was an embarrassment; one knight and a bumpkin boy-king were taking out his Elite soldiers. They were all getting soft. He growled at the thought and forced more vigor into his uppercuts and down blocks. Allen Schezar would not beat him...ever!
"Lord Dilandau, behind you!" Miguel called, but Dilandau couldn't turn around; he would lose his concentration on Schezar.
Clash! In the corner of his eye, he saw sparks from a blade striking the metal armor of a guymelef fly through the air. The Escaflowne stumbled away from him as Miguel's blue Alseid charged it.
Dilandau let his full attention bleed back to Schezar; Miguel could handle himself. At that thought he heard Miguel's indignant cry of shock and the sound of a punctured hull. Liquid metal poured into the lake, and Dilandau expected to hear the evitable splash of Miguel hitting the water...but instead, he heard more screaming from him.
What the...
"Miguel!" Viole yelled.
Amiss more startled cries from his Elite, there was the loud crash of a guymelef crashing into land and skidding to a halt. Dilandau lifted his attention from Schezar long enough to look and see what had transpired. Miguel's Alseid laid in ruin on the banks... oh gods... He barely parried the next blow dealt by Schezar.
"Somebody extract Miguel," Dilandau shouted to his Elite, "and fall back if you've been damaged. Gatty, call in the Second String!"
"He's still alive, Lord Dilandau," Shesta reported. "I saw him move... I can't tell if he's hurt, though."
Dilandau grunted his acknowledgment, throwing himself at Schezar. His reserves were going to give out soon, so he was going to give Schezar all he had at once, but Schezar pulled back. His guymelef sprinted across the lake and stood to intercept a Crima Claw gone astray. Dilandau watched the Claw penetrate Scherazade's armor and the machine went down on one knee. Good, one annoyance down... he grimaced as something struck him from behind. One more to go, he whirled to meet Van's blade. Van was a much easier adversary than Schezar, and the Escaflowne was damaged from their previous engagement. This wouldn't take long at all.
"Dilandau!" Eh? Dilandau blinked, Folken? "Fall back, convoys from Freid are entering the area, and we can't afford to be seen here."
Dilandau couldn't claim to be upset at ending the battle prematurely.
"I can't get to Miguel, sir!"
"Why not?"
"Schezar's men are on the banks..."
"Dilandau, fall back now!"
"Not yet Folken, Miguel is..."
"Now!"
Dilandau shut his eyes tight, stepping back from the Escaflowne, "Fine... Dragonslayers... fall back. Everyone â€" back to the Vione; a convoy from Freid is coming,"
"But Miguel..." Viole began.
"We'll retrieve him later," Dilandau sighed. "Fall back, now; these are orders from the Strategos!"
Dilandau watched as the able Alseides took to the air. He didn't disengage from combat with the white guymelef until the remaining five guymelefs of his Elite were safely in the air and ascending in the direction of the Vione. Dilandau's homing device told him that the floating fortress was near.
As he delivered one last hit to the Escaflowne in parting, he glanced over to where Miguel had fallen. True to Guimel's words, the damaged Alseid was surrounded by the ruffians belonging to Allen's crew, and Miguel was being dragged between them. There was no way he could extract Miguel without endangering the boy in the process.
He couldn't save Miguel now, but later he would. Later when he and his Slayers would have a chance to regroup, and he could have some time to come down off of Folken's medicine. He pounded the control panel, Folken's medicine.
If he hadn't taken it, he would have been able to defeat Van before Allen had arrived, and Miguel wouldn't have had to step in with Schezar. The mission wouldn't have failed, if he hadn't been under the influence of Folken's drugs.
He couldn't take them anymore; they lessened his skill and dulled his senses. He would just have to take his chances without them.
Even if it killed him, he wouldn't be responsible for the deaths of his men.
I'm sorry Miguel; this was my fault, but I'm going to fix it. I'll get you back, no matter the cost.
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**Author's Note: Yay, I'm finally done! This chapter took forever! I think I should have divided it up...but then I decided I just wanted to get this part over with, so there it is, lol. I hope your eyes didn't cross about halfway through. Well please review and let me know what you think. Did you like it, hate it, indifferent to it...? Should I go for shorter chapters next time? ;) I'd probably update a lot quicker if I did that. Well, I'll shut up now. Can you believe Christmas break is almost over? Grrr...school is starting again, but at least for me, it's my final semester! Muhahahahahaa! By May, I'll have a bachelor's degree in psychology (scary, huh?) Beebee, and take care!**