Sol of Luna: Near and Far

Author: Gakusangi

Author's Notes and Acknowledgements:
RECAP – Mello, Near, Matt, and Linda travel through almost unnaturally dense fog to the Nameless Harbor. However, the area is populated by a horde of undead creatures, which attack them on sight. Seemingly immune to most conventional means of killing, the children are forced to flee for their lives to the shoreline. They manage to take a rowboat to the center of the lake, relieved that the restless inhabitants of the town will not go into the water. However, they are not yet out of harm's way. The lake is the lair of a monstrous creature that attacks them on the water, and forces them unto a nearby ship, which, like so many others, has wrecked upon the rocks in the center of the lake. Once the sea beast begins dragging the ship beneath the surface of the water, the children are forced to take a lifeboat and head for the other side of the lake. They are chased to the shore, and almost devoured on dry land, but they barely manage to escape. But what new perils lay ahead…

This is a Death Note fan fiction. Many of the characters presented here are not mine, but the legal property of writer Tsugumi Ohba, and artist Takeshi Obata.

Chapter 16: The Proving Grounds

They were moving at a frantic pace, Mello leading the way, dragging Near behind him. Matt and Linda were already panting as they tried to keep up with the blonde boy.

"Are we heading west?" Matt asked.

"Just keep running!" Mello replied over his shoulder.

Mello looked back at the white haired boy.

"I just want to keep some distance between us." Mello told Near. "Those things from the beach might go around the lake."

Mello pressed on, pulling the exhausted Prince along with him. Matt and Linda decided to conserve their energy, and remained silent. Mello, mercifully, broke their pace a short while after they had all ceased talking. Everyone, even the seemingly untiring Mello, collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. There they remained until each in-turn fell into a fitful sleep, unknowing that the shadow that was cast over them was not from the night, but a large hill, whose greenery had long been stained with the blood of endless tribal war. They had entered the Scarlet Hills.

(XXX)

Near was accustomed to night hours, in which he was quickened, which was the only reason why he, unlike his companions, stirred and woke to the dull vibrations that rose from the ground beneath him. Sounds entered his sleepy ears, muffled from his exhaustion and the distance they were forced to travel. But as they cleared, his heart began to race with sudden realization, for no one could mistake the sounds of battle. The war drums beat rhythmically on the other side of the hill, and the horns sounded, like the cries of wounded animals. The scent of blood hung heavily about their resting place, so thick that Near wouldn't have been surprised to glance down at his white shirt and find it speckled red.

Near crawled quickly, but quietly over to Matt, and shook the redhead's shoulders to rouse him. Matt moaned in protest, and then blinked his eyes open, unfocused on the white haired boy waking him.

"Near, what–" Matt began, but he was quickly silenced when Near's hand fell gently over his mouth.

Near brought the forefinger of his free hand to his lips in a shushing gesture, to be sure Matt understood. Matt nodded, and Near removed his hand. Matt sat up, and then tilted his head to listen. His eyes flashed with alarm and he just managed to stifle a gasp that rose in his throat. He rolled over and shook Linda awake in much the same manner Near had him. Near crawled beside the still slumbering Mello and did the same. Now everyone was awake, and aware of their predicament. All heads turned desperately to Mello.

"Keep low, crawl." Mello whispered to them. "We'll head to the top of the hill, and see what we're dealing with."

Matt and Linda both nodded, Near only glanced up the hill. Their ascent was slow, but they needed to be cautious if they wanted to avoid detection, and so no one complained, not even inwardly. As they crested the hill and glanced down, all found themselves at a loss for words. The battle was intense, and judging from the bodies scattered about, had been going on for some time now. The death toll was overwhelming from their vantage point, and yet each knew that a slight change in their perspective would only serve to reveal more corpses that, as yet, remaining out of their range of vision. Not armored soldiers upon shining mounts, armed with finely crafted weapons of polished steel, or even pitted pig iron. These people were all but naked as they charged at each other with fierce savagery, armed with little more than sharpened sticks, clubs, and some even hurling rocks.

It was a battle unlike anything the children had seen, studied or heard spoken of. It was raw, powerful, terrifying, and yet somehow mesmerizing in its primitiveness. This was real warfare, the oldest and most effective kind, which had been fought throughout the world before recorded time. Absent mindedly, Mello pulled Near closer to him, and the white haired boy, just as captured by the scene before them, offered no resistance. War cries sounded from all directions, some cut painfully short with the thrust of a spear, or the landing of a well aimed rock. One man rushed another, and brought his club hard against the side of his foe's head, splitting it like an overripe melon. The children winced, not only at the sight of the blow, but because the sound of it rang loudly in their ears, and its force jarred their bones, even from this great distance.

"Slide down the side of the hill on your stomachs." Mello cut in quietly. "Then we'll creep over to the cover of the nearest hill."

No one made any sign of acknowledgement. Instead, they simply turned and started down the hill, somberly silent in their progression. Matt was the first one down, and knelt just out of sight, waiting for Linda to join him before moving on to the next hill. He was protective in that way, but no one was faulting him for it at the moment. Linda was down next, and together she and Matt moved low and swift out of sight. Mello and Near descended at the same time, moving side-by-side. Mello was determined not to let the white haired boy move from him, for the time being. Once they were down, and crouched, Mello looked to Near. There is saw the setting of fatigue that could only mean that dawn was fast approaching, and with it, their time shortening.

Mello turned his back to Near.

"Near," Mello said, "Climb onto my ba–"

There was loud, guttural grunt that cut off the last of the blonde boy's sentence. Mello whirled around, glancing over the smaller boy's shoulder. The man was massive, and powerfully built, as though his body was etched from stone. Upon his head rested a helm, made from the skull of some unidentifiable animal, lashed to his head with what resembled twine. He clutched a massive, crimson-coated club tightly in both hands. Through the empty eye sockets of the skull, Mello saw the man's eyes narrow. With a deafening battle cry, the man charged the two boys, bringing his club up over his head.

Mello shoved Near aside, and unsheathed his blade, just fast enough to bury the tip of his sword so deep into their attacker's abdomen that it punched out though the small of his back on the other side. The man came to a stop, and looked down at the sword sticking out of him with an almost puzzled expression. Then he roared with fury and backhanded Mello with such force that the blonde boy was sent tumbling limply off to the side. The man grunted, droplets of blood issuing from his mouth as he did so, and approached the still recovering boy, his club ready to deal the final blow.

Two kunai suddenly appeared in the man's chest, causing him to pause and look down at them. Mello lifted his head, and saw Linda and Matt rushing to their aid. The man issued another war cry, showering the surrounding area with more of his blood. Despite his wounds, he seemed to have lost none of his fervor. Matt leapt over Mello, landing with cat-like grace upon the large man's broad shoulders, and drove his spear deep into the man's upper torso. The man grunted, grabbed hold of the spear's shaft, removed the tip from his body, and used the spear to fling the surprised redhead from his shoulders.

Linda was beside the man now, driving a long knife deep into his side. The man turned and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground and choking off her air while he gritted his bloodstained teeth angrily. Near collided with the man's exposed back, sending him toppling over, and forcing him to release Linda. The man managed to catch himself before the grip of Mello's sword met the ground, and prevented the blade from being forced any further into his body. Seeing an opportunity, Mello took hold of his weapon's handle, and with both feet, managed to push the man back up and off of his sword.

The man cried out again and lifted his club with the intent to smash the blonde boy into oblivion. Mello quickly rolled aside, just at the blunt weapon came down. The force of the man's swing drove the head of the club into the ground. Mello was up in the flash and brought his sword down with all the strength he could muster. The blade bit into the fleshy back of the man's neck, chewing its way through and out the other side. The man's skull-clad head rolled off somewhere, and the body fell limply, twitching ever so often, but very much dead.

Mello sighed heavily and turned. Just then something, he could only assume a rock, collided with his forehead, and knocked him back to the ground. Mello's vision blurred and he was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was now lying on his back. The sounds of commotion were present, but muffled, as the world seemed to lose its color. A slight dampness told Mello that his head had been split open by whatever had struck him, and the wound was bleeding. The darkness crept in at the edges of his vision…

(XXX)

Mello was lifted roughly to his feet, and brought sharply back into consciousness. As his throbbing head cleared, he became aware that his hands were bound behind his back, and that his neck was lashed to along piece of wood. He blinked to focus his vision, and realized that he wasn't the only one bound in this fashion. Near was right in front of him, barely able to stand because of his daytime dreariness. Matt and Linda were there just in front of the white haired boy, along with several other men, all tribe's people from the looks of them. Mello instantly recognized this for what it was. The battle was over, and they were now prisoners of war, left to the torment of their captors.

There was a shout, and they began to move, forced to keep in step with one another, lest the ropes set tightly about their throats strangle them. Mello was still very wobbly from his injury, but he managed to keep up. Near seemed to having some trouble as well. He tripped and stumbled a few times, but managed to correct himself. Mello knew that this wouldn't keep up for long. Near was almost completely out on his feet. Luckily the white haired boy's hood was up, so that as the sun bled over the hills, he wasn't incinerated or anything.

Their pace was slow, but they, to Mello's great relief, didn't have far to travel. Soon they spotted squat huts, and small fires set about the area between two of the largest hills, or at least the largest from what the children had seen. They were set down in front of a hut that was bigger than the other surrounding ones, undoubtedly the dwelling of their chief. Mello and the others sat down, and rested for moment. Mello soon became aware that Near had fallen asleep next to him. The blonde didn't mind. If anything horrible was going to happen within the next few minutes, it was better if Near was unconscious for it. Mello was beginning to wonder if these people believed in things like human sacrifice, but found that this train of thought didn't help them in the slightest, and dismissed it.

Suddenly a woman, who appeared more ancient that the hills themselves, came hobbling out of the large hut. She had a necklace of animal teeth, a long shawl with a tattered cloak, and a long walking stick with rodent skulls dangling from it. The staff was apparently hollow, and filled with seeds, beans, or beads, judging from the rattling sound it made as she walked. When she spoke, it was obvious that she had little to no teeth left in her head, and she possessed a voice that sounded as though she gargled with old, rusty razorblades. The language was nothing that any of them could understand, so Mello was left to deduce the meaning of her words through her body language alone.

She regarded them, the prisoners, with a sweeping motion of one, skeletal arm, from which pale flesh hung limply off the bone. She stopped for a moment. Then with one long, crinkled finger, she pointed at Near wordlessly. She hobbled forward, and removed Near's hood. Near moaned loudly and tried to shrink away from the sunlight, but the woman grabbed his face and pulled it close to hers. Mello could see clearly the hag's features. Her face was a series of wrinkles set over yet more wrinkles. Her yes were slanted, barely able to open, and misty, making him wonder if she could truly see anything in front of her.

Near's eyes were only partially open, seeming tired and filled with pain. But he didn't resist her as she moved his head around in her hands to further examine him. She reached out and curled a strand of his silky, white hair with keen interest. Then she forced open his eyes a little wider and peered into them. She ran her callused thumbs over his soft skin. Then she released him, allowing him to crumble back beside Mello, his hood still down, exposing him to the sunlight and causing him to curl up defensively. The old woman began shouting frantically to the other men standing about her. She pointed at Near again, and then lifted her hand and pointed at the sky. All the men seemed to shuffle nervously at the sound of her words.

Then a man appeared at the entrance of the large hut. He was tall with slimmer build, and dark skin. He wore bracelets of teeth, and a medicine bag hung about his neck. His face was painted to resemble a skull, and as he spoke, Mello saw a mouth full of yellowed teeth. The man's voice was deep and powerful, and it was obvious that as he spoke, he captured the attention of all those around him. From his posture and tone, Mello concluded that he was challenging whatever the woman had said. This was tribal politics at work, and poor Near was stuck in the middle of it.

Near's bonds were then cut, and he was drug off by two men. Mello went to move after them, but was pulled along by the wood his throat was still tied to. Apparently whatever was going to happen, all the prisoners were going to be witness to it. Mello didn't mind this, since he was determined not to let Near out of his sight. But while he was tied up, there was little to nothing he could do. They only walked a short distance before they came to a spot that was clear of any huts. Upon the ground had been traced a large circle with two triangles outside of it on opposite sides. The painted man sat cross-legged in one triangle, and Near was gently set down in the other.

With eyes still heavy with sleep, Near looked down and realized what this was. It was a dueling circle. This man, undoubtedly a shaman of some kind, was challenging him. Near set himself cross-legged in his triangle and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep. He had to meet this challenge, to prove his worth. It may be their only way out. Across from him, he heard the painted man chuckle. The sun still stun his eyes through their closed lids, and his body burned more intensely the longer he remained exposed. But he didn't lift his hood. No, the pain was keeping him awake, keeping his mind clear and sharp. His mind was his weapon, and it needed its edge.

(XXX)

Near had never had anything remotely resembling an out of body experience. The sensation of suddenly being pulled from this physical form was entirely new to him. His sense of gravity, of direction was suddenly skewed. Every direction was up, left was suddenly right, night and day no longer existed, as time had ceased to be. Feelings of cold and warmth were no longer present, he was suddenly aware of all his subconscious bodily functions, breathing, his heartbeat, everything. And yet these functions were no longer relevant, unnecessary and even unwanted. The air was still, as though, like his body, it no longer existed. He was in his own space now, his own time. But he knew that he wasn't alone.

Near's eyes flashed open just in time to catch the large, grey wolf that was about to bear down upon him. Near leapt aside, his four legs carrying him farther and faster than his human legs ever could have taken him. Near set one white paw up down firmly, steeling himself for the battle to come. The grey wolf stalked for a moment, and then began to circle around him. Near locked his gaze with the wolf, their spirits coiling around each other, their scents caught in their nostrils. The grey wolf leapt forward again, mouth snapping viciously, trying to get hold of Near's throat. Near batted his rival away.

It was amazing, this feeling. His sense quickened to superhuman level, especially his sense of smell. A scent was almost like a visible, even tangible thing to him now. The various scents lay before him in a stunning array of prismatic colors. His powerful body was set upon four, strong legs, his white coat gleaming brightly in the empty darkness that was their battlefield. His opponent was fast, strong, and above all, experienced. But with the passing of years, he had weakened, and his mind was not as sharp as Near's was now. It was the way of things. The strong lead, survival of the fittest, call it what you will. It all came down to one thing. Near had to win this contest. Not just for him, but for the pack as well. The strong shall lead. Near had to be strong, stronger than his foe.

The grey wolf came at him. Always the first to strike, and that would be the key to his undoing. Near dove aside, and let his opponent slip past him. Then Near snapped back, his fangs clamping down upon the grey wolf's neck. Then he closed his jaws, the crushing pressure falling on his opponent's throat. The flesh split, and coppery tasting blood poured fresh and hot into Near's mouth. The taste was invigorating, amplified by his heightened senses. Then he felt the spine give, and a sickening crunch filled his keen ears. The feeling was more satisfying than anything he had previously experienced. His foe went limp in his mouth with little more than a whimper.

Near released his hold, and the body fell lifelessly onto the nothingness upon which they stood. Placing one paw upon the corpse, Near let loose a triumphant howl that filled the emptiness. Never had he felt so fulfilled. Victory was his. Then he was being pulled back down. His senses dulled, his body restored. And Near was left longing. Longing to be a part of the pack yet again, to feel the intensity of his spiritual transformation. But the contest was over…

(XXX)

Mello watched in silence, almost certain that Near had fallen asleep while he sat cross-legged across from the painted man, who too had his eyes closed. Nothing happened, everyone watched wordlessly, the air was tense. The suspense was almost more than the blonde boy could stand. What was going on? What was this? Then the painted man let out a cry of what seemed to be filled with both alarm, and pain. Clutching at his throat. The man fell back. The most shocking moment came almost immediately afterward, when Near…howled. It was a small sound, but it bounced off of the hills the surrounded the area, echoing back at them. It was a haunting thing that lingered for a moment after it had been issued. Then Near too fell back as well.

Mello was stunned for a moment, so much so that he didn't realize that his bonds had suddenly been cut. Mello, Matt, and Linda rose to their feet, having been freed by their captors. They rushed over to Near, who lay on the ground panting, and soaked in sweat. Off to the side, two men were carrying the painted man away, who also appeared to be exhausted for no apparent reason. Linda knelt beside the small, white haired boy, laying a hand on his chest, and feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath his shirt.

"Near!" Linda called. "Near, are you alright?"

Without opening his eyes, Near reached up weakly, and gave a thumbs-up, something that reminded the children of L. Then he abruptly dropped his arm and passed out, his breath coming light and steady.

"What do think he did?" Matt asked.

"Whatever it was," Mello said, "I think it just saved our lives."

The old woman came shambling up to them. Her cripplingly hunched posture and stumbling movements reminded Mello of the dead things they had encountered near the lake. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of it. She was speaking, very low. The children were at a loss, having not been educated in her native tongue. She seemed to completely overlook, or outright ignore the puzzled expressions that lay across all their faces. She knelt beside Near, shaking her walking stick and causing its contents to rattle, and then she laid something on his chest. The old hag walked away then, still talking, but apparently more to herself than anyone else. As she wandered off, Mello reached down and picked up what she had lain down. It was a fang, attached to a long piece of string, as if it were some kind of charm to be worn around the neck. Matt leaned in for a better look at it.

"A wolf fang?" Matt asked.

Mello turned the fang over in his hand, examining it with mounting interest. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he had the impression that they should be grateful to have it. Linda drew up Near's hood to protect him from the sun.

"We should get moving." Linda murmured up to Mello's turned back.

"I'll carry him." Matt said.

"What about or things?" Linda asked.

They had been disarmed and stripped of their gear during their capture, something that Mello had failed to notice until now. Mello glanced up, noticed something up ahead, and then smiled.

"They gave them back." Mello said.

The other two looked up to see that their captor's had, none too neatly, piled their affects not far from the circle, undoubtedly having returned them after whatever had occurred between Near and the painted man.

"Gear up." Mello said, stuffing the fang charm into his pocket. "We're heading west from here."

"To the border." Matt added.

"And into the lion's den." Linda muttered bitterly.

(XXX)

Mikami took a breath to cool his blood before pushing open the front of the High Summoner's tent and stepping inside. As he had expected, the air was thick with incense, and colored lanterns hung from the canvas ceiling, shedding blue light over the inside of the tent. Takada herself was knelt upon a mat in the center of the tent, apparently meditating. Mikami thought otherwise, for he could see that the corners of her mouth threatened to curl into a smug grin.

"Commander?" Takada asked without opening her eyes.

Mikami took another breath. She knew why he was here, she had been expecting him, and she knew how painful this was going to be.

"Alright, Takada," Mikami said, without gracing her with her proper title, "Where are they?"

Now Takada did smile.

"Not far." She replied.

"You're sure?" Mikami asked.

"The Prince, like his father, has a powerful aura about him." Takada explained. "Though I must admit, it's very different in nature. Regardless, for one, such as I, attuned to the subtle ripples such an aura creates, it's easy to locate."

"So then, where is he?" Mikami demanded.

"There's a small town, not far from this trade post." Takada answered. "An old place called, Kanetoshi."

"That toilet!" Mikami burst. "Why there?"

"Who knows, but that's where they went." Takada replied.

"How many of them?" Mikami questioned.

"It's hard to say." Takada admitted. "The Prince's aura has mingled with those of his abductors. They have become intertwined, tied to each other."

"Is that supposed to mean anything?" Mikami asked, seeming annoyed.

"Maybe not." Takada replied. "But I want to look a little more into it. Just out of curiosity."

"In the meantime," Mikami barked, "Begin packing your things. We leave immediately."

Then he left, and happily so, leaving Takada and her smug smile behind.

(XXX)

"Hi guys!" Princess Misa greeted the two guardsmen brightly as she approached.

"Good afternoon, your Highness." The guards replied with a bow.

"Umm…" She blushed a little for effect. "Misa was just wondering…"

She held up a piece of parchment.

"Do you have any idea where we are." Misa asked.

The two guards looked at the map she head with confused expressions.

"It's just that," Misa began, "Misa's never been outside of the capital before, and Misa's curious about the world outside."

The guards looked at each other, shrugged and then came forward, one taking the map from her.

"This is where we are now." One of the guards said, pointing to a spot on the map.

"And where's the capital?" Misa asked eagerly.

"Right here." The other guard said pointing to another spot.

"Oh, that far already!" Misa burst with wonder. "Oh, Misa's so dense. How do read these things?"

While the two guards were busy explaining, Misa saw Light slipped into the tent they had been guarding. She beamed, proud that she had been of assistance to him.

(XXX)

Lind Tailor sighed heavily and leaned back against the pole he and his three comrades were tied to. Takuo Shibuimaru was struggling with the ropes again, as though this time, unlike the other hundred times before, they would suddenly give and he would be free.

"Conserve your strength." Lind told Takuo. "You're going to need it soon enough."

"Shut up!" Takuo snapped, and continued to fight against his bonds.

Lind sighed again.

"Looks like I need to bail you out again, Tailor."

The voice was shocking familiar to Lind, but he didn't believe it until he looked up and saw its source with his own eyes.

"Commander Yagami!" Lind gasped.

To Be Continued…

Author's Comments

Sorry if this one's a little confusing. I wanted something spiritual, and this seemed like a good opportunity. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was going to do in this chapter when I started, but I'm happy with the way it turned out.