THE CAVE: CONTINUUM
Part Fourteen
Tall, amber flames flicker in front of Kanda's half-open, blurry eyes. Through the blur he can only make out black figures, dancing in front of the fire to the loud beating of drums. Kanda blinks his eyes a couple of times to clear his vision.
The male dancers are scantily dressed with white loincloths covering their privates and only partially covering their buttocks. Their long, black hair swings wildly as they hop back and forth with the rhythm of the drums.
As Kanda's head starts to clear his eyes begin to focus. 'Where's Bean Sprout?' Kanda looks amongst the group of men in the area, searching for his white-hair husband. Then he spots him, not too far from him, still unconscious from the blow to his head.
Allen is sitting in some kind of basket chair that lifts easily to move him to wherever the natives want. 'Well, at least they haven't dressed him in one of those stupid loincloths. No one is supposed to see his private parts but me!' Kanda bristles inside as he looks over at Allen to see if he is hurt.
Allen stirs bringing his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it, and then winces. He had received a small gash to the back of his head when the blast from the Level 3 threw him into the tree. Blood shows on his white glove when he brings it around to look at it.
Kanda sees the blood.
"Bean Sprout, how bad is the cut to your head?" he yells over to him. Kanda tries to get up and walk over to his partner, only to find ropes are holding him in place.
"What the fuck is this!" Kanda shouts, yanking on the ropes.
"Kanda!" Allen wails, looking over at his lover, confusion showing on his pale face.
Silence fills the air as the activities stop and the natives look over at Allen and then Kanda. An old man, apparently their leader, slowly stands up, raising his hand for the tribe to remain silent. The village becomes ominously quiet.
Kanda looks over at who he assumes is the leader. He is wearing a traditional dark red kimono with black symbols woven into the upper part of the fabric in a pattern. Kanda has seen symbols like these before, but he just can't seem to place where.
The man is of medium height, yet the bold black and white stripe skirting he wears over the kimono that falls down to his ankles, gives him the illusion he is taller.
He is elderly, with a long, gray braid hanging down his back. His skin still looks fairly smooth for a man of his age – he is definitely the Tribal Chief.
The Chief speaks in English even though he and his tribe appear to be of an ancient origin – one Kanda has no knowledge of. The Chief raises his hand and gestures towards Allen.
"This is the antediluvian god we have been waiting for to return to us! He helped save our warriors from the archfiend that has terrorized our village for days," the Chief speaks loudly in a strong deep voice that resonates throughout the village. His mere presence commands attention.
"A god! Che, don't tell him that I'll never be able to live with him in peace," Kanda mutters, rolling his eyes annoyed.
Allen gives Kanda a smile and shrugs his shoulders, acutely uneasy.
"This man also helped slay the archfiend beast, but to keep him from escaping he is tethered to the trees," the Chief's hand now gestures in Kanda's direction.
"I'm not fucking escaping without Bean Sprout," Kanda hollers at the Chief.
"You have no respect for you elder's, young warrior," the tribal Chief hisses, narrowing his blazing eyes on Kanda.
The Chief nods to one of the natives. Obeying, he quickly brings a cup of liquid for Allen to drink. Allen is still finding all of this very confusing. 'What the hell is going on,' he's thinking as he sits back in confusion.
"Drink from this cup our White-hair god," the elderly leader tells Allen.
"No, Bean Sprout, don't drink it! We don't know what it is," Kanda yells over to Allen.
The Chief nods in another direction and two strong warriors advance in Kanda's direction. Kanda grunts in pain when the warriors yank the ropes which wrap his wrists tighter, stretching his arms out to his sides, leaving even less room to struggle. One of the young warrior's steps behind him and places the sharp, cold edge of his blade at Kanda's throat.
"You mother fuckers, get that knife away from my throat," Kanda growls as he tries to move his neck away from the cutting edge of the blade. The warrior only tightens his grip on him.
"Now, our young, White-hair Kami, you will drink from the cup," the elder says to Allen, bowing.
"Stay away from him you bastards! Don't drink it Bean Sprout!" Kanda roars, straining against the ropes, the blade still at his throat. He could feel a trickle of blood gliding down his neck.
"Get that knife away from him! Kanda, I can't take the chance that they will hurt you," Allen cries out, his voice sounding tense with an undertone of fear.
'They can't hurt him, I won't allow them to!' Allen is frantically thinking, determined his partner will live, even if he must die.
"I'm their god, Kanda. What could possibly go wrong? I'm sure they won't hurt me, it's you I'm worried about." Allen's voice quivers, his eyes pleading to his lover's.
Allen could feel himself shaking, praying Kanda will not do something to get himself killed.
He sits up straight, the determination blazing like fire in his eyes, he gathers his inner strength and boldness – he has to save his husband.
"I'll drink this, but you must promise me you will not harm him, and you must let him go," Allen demands, strong and firm, the quiver in his voice gone as if it never existed.
"I will promise you my young god," the Chief states, bowing.
"No Allen!" Kanda yells, the veins on his neck sticking out. The warrior removes the blade from Kanda's throat and steps back, obeying the nod from their Chief.
Allen takes the cup from the tribesman. He looks over at his partner, not sure if he will be alive for long. He mouths over to Kanda, just like he did when he said good-bye to his beloved at the carriage before they took him away, "I love you, Yuu."
Kanda's heart is tearing apart. His eyes will love into Allen's, mouthing back similar sentiments: "I love you too, Allen."
Allen takes the cup and looks over at Kanda, his eyes showing the wetness of tears he refuses to let drop. He smiles, that warm, wonderful smile Kanda loves. He watches as his husband drinks the liquid down quickly, now feeling as if the bottom of his stomach has dropped out. He is dizzy with despair.
Allen keeps smiling, but sadness fills his silver eyes as he keeps them on Kanda – only Kanda. His eyes start to close, though he still manages to keep his focus on Kanda's beautiful face until he could no longer keep them open. Allen slumps in the basket chair.
Kanda hangs his head; his chin rests on his chest. He then feels his knees buckle as if the earth has been removed from underneath him and falls limp, only the ropes holding him up. Suddenly he realizes his worst fear might have just happened, and that deep rooted pain starts ripping at his very soul once again. Is Allen just asleep, or did they kill him? He needs to know.
Pulling himself up, standing straight, he holds his head level, his eyes narrow, glowing hot embers of anger at the old Chief.
"What did you do to him? Did you kill him?" Kanda asks, his voice sharp and hard.
"No … he is not dead." Kanda sighs with relief. "At least not yet," the Chief says, staring back at Kanda with dark, black eyes.
"What do you mean, 'not yet'?" Kanda asks, his deep cobalt blue eyes now turning darker with rage.
"Yes, let me explain to you what will happen with our White-hair god." The tribal Chief speaks loud enough for all to hear.
"His name is Allen," Kanda sharply informs the Chief as his ferocious black brows knit together in a scowl.
He will be sacrificed to the Stone Warrior. This warrior will not be satisfied without him as a sacrifice, and in doing so, he will leave our people in peace for another two-hundred years," the leader begins to explain.
"What the fuck is a Stone Warrior?" Kanda snarls at the leader, wishing he could strangle him.
"He is an ancient warrior who had been turned to stone after massacring an ancient tribe of our people centuries ago. At the time, a spell had been casted upon him as his punishment. However, the spell has limits. It will only last for two-hundred years.
When he awakens from his sleep, he demands we sacrifice but one White-hair god to him, and the promise continues – he will not harm us for another two-hundred years. This has been done for centuries, and now it is time once again," the tribal Chief tells the tale, using his hands to emphasize the importance of the White-hair Kami.
The Chief points at Allen, "He is the White-hair god we have been waiting for. He will either die, or fight the warrior and destroy him, leaving our people in peace forever," he finishes, raising his hands to the sky.
"Will you stop calling him a god?" Kanda growls annoyed at the thought. 'I'm the only one who is allowed to give him a nick name, assholes,' Kanda thinks, anger fuming inside him.
The Chief simply stares at Kanda, absolutely expressionless. Kanda couldn't help but wonder what he is thinking - it could be anything. Suddenly the Chief spoke, albeit not to Kanda.
"Now…we will prepare for the journey far into the forest, to the sacred grounds and the cave. It is time to set up for the ceremony," the Chief shouts out to his tribesmen and warriors. They raise their hands to the sky, cheering and shouting.
He turns to Kanda. "I promised I would release you unharmed. My two young warriors will take you to where you were found. This is so you will not interfere with the ceremony," the leader states.
He nods to his two warriors holding Kanda. "Take him away after we have left the village," the Chief commands.
As the leader is saying this, the sound of heavy footsteps and chanting carries throughout the air on a light breeze. Two long lines of tribesmen, side by side, come into sight. A thick rope rests upon their bronze shoulders as they drag what appears to be a very, heavy object on a wagon. Every muscle on their scantily clothe bodies bulge under the strain of their relentless tugging.
Their coppery-brown skin bore sweat and glimmers from the blazing fire reflecting off the sheen of wetness covering them. The sound of a whip cracks the air as the procession comes to a halt. The ropes slacken and they sit on the dirt ground to rest. Younger tribesmen run around providing water for the entourage of pullers.
The wagon has large wooden wheels with six spokes spreading evenly from their center hubs. Rusty iron bands bond the circumstance of the spokes, holding the wheels together. Propping the gyration up on an angle is a long, thick, hand-hewn post which is tethered to the back of the axle which binds the two wheels. The wagon sets atop the axles. It's a primitive contraption, but it works. On top of the wagon platform sits yet another iron-bound wheel with six spokes.
The bronze-skin natives carry the basket-chair which holds the still-unconscious Allen over to the wagon. As they pick up his fragile, near-lifeless body, and hands him up to the natives standing on the platform of the wagon his arms fall, hanging listlessly at his sides as his head hangs backwards.
"Be careful with him, you damn idiots!" Kanda shouts at the natives moving Allen, his frustrations getting worse as he is still unable to save his lover.
Kanda watches as they strap his husband to the large wheel atop of the wagon. Spreading Allen's legs and arms, his body looks like a large "X" against the dark wooden spokes. His head hangs to his chest. Kanda can feel the ire building inside of him, blinding him. He is ready to burst at any moment to fight for his partner.
The crack of a whip snaps Kanda out of his temporary blindness and back to the present. The tribesmen, who were sitting moments ago, rise to their feet. Now standing, they pick up the thick ropes and place them over their shoulders, bending slightly forward, to resume their hauling of the burdensome wagon with Allen.
The drums resume their thunderous beating as the wagon begins to pull away, taking Allen to the mysterious ceremonial area. The brightness of the amber flames slowly fades off his lover as the wagon pulls further out into the darkness.
Kanda continues to fight at his ropes, desperately trying to break them, wanting to go after Allen, his heart breaking at the sight of him leaving. A memory of the carriage, pulling away, when Allen was taken to Boston to be executed comes crashing down on him. As it always does, fear sweeps through him with the possibility of losing his lover.
His struggle continues as the two warriors' un-wrap the ropes from around the trees which have been holding him in place. They pull and drag a defiant Kanda, who wrestles with the ropes that still bind him as they begin to take him back from whence he came. Kanda snaps his mind to attention, already forming an escape plan.
To be continued …
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Too tired to think of anything clever to say except – Thanks again for all your reviews, alerts, and favs!