Smoke billowed around the men. Cannon balls plummeted to the ground and dug into the grass. Men leaped out of the way. The other side advanced, raising swords and screaming war cries. Blades glinted and guns were poised. The sky was overcast and gloomy, becoming obscured by smoke. Swords clashed and blood spurted out, followed by howls of pain. Several men fell off their horses.
This was the second battle since Ivan had returned and it was only two short days since the previous one. Rather than solving anything, the attacks had only worsened the situation. The village nearby, where Ivan had met the motley group of people, had been ransacked and pillaged. When his regiment entered it, trying to find survivors in the burnt debris, they only found a single, thin little girl. She looked at them in fear. Her eyes were blue and her hair dark black. Her chin was dimpled and her cheeks round; they quivered at the sight of the grim men. Ivan sent a soldier to take her to a nearby village and take care of her.
Now, Ivan gripped the reins of his strong Arab with one hand and with the other he held his sword's hilt. A musket hung onto a rope strung to his shoulders. His epaulets stuck out like drops of blood in the field. He looked at his men, calling orders and support. An enemy approached him and he raised the hilt of his sword, jabbing the man in the side and then attempting to slash at him. His hand then stopped. Terror etched across his face as he fell from his horse, his leg tangled in the bridal. "Have mercy! I surrender!" he cried out.
Ivan raised the sword above his head, making an effort to bring it down and send the man to death. But his arms seem to have frozen. The world around him silenced and dimmed. Nothing else existed but the two men, suspended in battle. The man's lips quivered and he moaned in pain, shutting his eyes in acceptance of Ivan's blade. But Ivan still did not drive it into his chest. He lowered it instead and, as he reached over to help the man up, a gunshot fired and flame exploded in his arm. He fell off his horse, hitting his back and thrusting the air out of him. Blackness swarmed over his eyes and he became unconscious.
When he woke, he discovered that he was in an infirmary. His arm was bandaged up and still throbbed with pain. The pale colored tarpaulin met his gaze. Slowly, he pushed himself up. Along the ground aligned so that their heads pointed to the edge of the tent were the dead. Ivan's heart sunk. He had caused these deaths by not being present. He convinced himself that this was fact and dolefully looked towards the nurses and doctors.
One of them noticed him and came over. He was a stout, balding man with freckles spotting his nose. "Hello, colonel," he said and took Ivan's temperature. "You're wound was not severe. It was the shock that sent you over and actually broke that same arm. What bad luck!" he spoke with a Swiss accent, something between German and French.
Ivan nodded, not taking in a word of it.
On account of injury, Ivan was thus dismissed from war. The regiment was devastated by the ill performance of such a highly-acclaimed general and at once felt deceived. Someone remarked that Ivan had recently lost his wife. How that came to be remained a mystery to Ivan. He supposed some relative of Ira's said something and it spread like wildfire, ending up in the regiment through some letter or another. Another general, however, was quickly uncovered and the regiment went as planned.
Ivan at this point believed that Yao would be somewhere in Turkey by this time. He did not know that Yao was still living in the barn, stealing from the abandoned pouches of money, and buying himself a mask and a suit for the ball that would occur in a week. On these shopping trips Yao asked in broken German that he had learned from listening patiently about the barn. Someone informed him that some soldier had left their things and went out to town. In town they were murdered by some spies and no one had touched those things since. Yao felt guilty at having raided the belongings and thanked the men in his heart whenever he could.
After being dismissed, the first course of action for Ivan was to go to Vienna. He loved the city and had not been there for two years. His arm was in a sling and wrapped tightly. It was broken in two places and burned with pain. In the carriage he went alone.
By some strange chance of fate, Ivan was invited to the same masked ball as Yao. He went through the city, each time barely brushing past Yao and not noticing him. Ivan purchased a mask and decided to wear some of his formal wear that he had brought along. He bought himself a room in an inn and there he stayed.
The night of the ball finally came. The stars overhead gleamed, twinkling down on the city. Carriages crowded around the manor where it was held at. Doors stood wide open. At the front, awaiting guests were the merry hosts. The Count and his wife shook hands and entreated the guests to enter and go to the ballroom. Servants inside swerved through the hoards of people, bringing drinks and carrying snacks. More people flooded in. Young women in pretty dresses in shawls glowed with joy upon seeing their first ball. Older women held fans in their hands and smiled proudly at the younger ones. Men huddled in groups and spoke. Some wandered around, seeking partners. All wore decorated masks that hid their identities well. The men took chances, as they could not see the pleasantness of their partner's faces. The first dance had not begun yet.
Yao entered and bowed to the Count and Countess. They greeted him accordingly and ushered him in. He wore white pants and stockings up to his knees. His shoes were dark black and especially created for dancing. His top was a swallow-tail coat of a peachy-color. His mask covered nearly his entire face, leaving only his small lips exposed. His hair was tied up tightly. He wandered around like a homeless spirit before settling in amid the groups of waiting people.
Ivan entered to the great joy of the Count and Countess. His arm was still strung up in a sling and they cooed in sympathy for him. When Ivan had greeted them, he slid on his mask. It was a dark black, bejeweled mask the covered three-fourths of his face, leaving one cheek and half of his mouth exposed. He walked around, brushing past Yao and not recognizing him.
The musicians settled in, tuning their instruments. The air quivered with excitement. The last guests had been received. The Count and Countess walked in, their hands touching, and stood in the middle of the ball, taking the first dance. Other partners took their places around them. The crowd thinned out to a group of men immersed in a philosophical discussion and Yao and Ivan. The partners poised to the dance.
When the first note struck they began to move, swaying and dancing with extraordinary talent. Ivan walked around, seeking a partner. Some broke off and sought new partners.
A handsome, tall woman approached Ivan and he took her hand, stepping onto the floor and dancing excellently.
Similarly, a woman with a bird-nose masked encountered Yao and took his hand.
The dance continued and Yao, putting his hand to his partner's waist, was tugged around by her sheer force. She laughed merrily and then let go, going off to a mustached man. Yao then turned and found a young girl waiting for a dance. Her lips curled into a smile as he took her round.
Ivan eventually ended up with the Countess. She chuckled good-humouredly. Her eyes were green and her hair, lined with gray, was a pale red. She was nearly Ivan's height and could look at his eyes through the mask. She did not speak to him save for a nod of recognition.
Some men danced alone, barely touching their partners and evidently showing off. They twirled and leaped, shutting their eyes occasionally.
Yao, stepping out of the way of one of these men, hit his back against someone. He turned around and discovered a tall, silvery-haired man. Ivan looked down at him and politely smiled, taking his hand. Yao did. Neither could tell who the other was through the masks. But when their hands touched and their steps fell into synchronization, they were consumed by an intense feeling of déjà vu. Both thought of ice skating on the frozen lake all those years ago.
The song slowed and became a rhythmic beat. Ivan gently spun Yao around and spun himself, crossing his good arm round and ending up so that Yao stood behind him, before twisting out of the stance. Ivan's dance was lopsided without the use of one hand. Yao pranced away as partners were again exchanged.
The men raised their female partners up by the waists. One man, a portly, good humored one with bad eye-sight ended up with Yao and raised him up. Ivan saw and noticed the intensely black hair. He wondered, for a second, if he had somehow ended up at the same ball as Yao. But he dismissed that, knowing for certain that Yao was elsewhere and his luck would never be too good.
When Yao saw Ivan's back again he was certain that it really was his Ivan. But then again that man had a broken arm and was not at war. He doubted, just as Ivan did, that his luck would by so good.
Yao, considering this, ended up with a familiar face. Toris beamed at him. It was unmistakably the officer from before. His hair was the same and his mask only covered half of his face, exposing a luminous eye. Yao smiled at him.
"I'm glad you could come," Toris whispered, spinning Yao around.
"I'm glad to have been invited," Yao whispered back, spinning and stretching his hands out. His fingers brushed against a woman's and he turned, inviting her to dance. She was shorter than he was. Her golden hair, curled, rolled down her back and nearly reached her waist. She appeared to be having the time of her life as she danced with Yao. Her dress was dotted with flowers and was pure white.
When she left him, Yao felt somehow enchanted by her presence, as if she was a pure thing. She reminded him of that sparrow and at once he was filled with a melancholy of his summer.
The girl then came up to another, taller woman and danced with her, their dresses clashing. She rung with laughed and kissed the woman's cheek before prancing off.
Kisses were exchanged often. Yao had been kissed several times, in fact.
Yao left the crowd and leaned against the wall, catching his breath and beaming with excitement. Someone then approached him. It was a tall, brunet with a mole beneath his lip and to the side. He took up Yao's hand and invited him to dance. It was the very same Austrian from the town. He had left shortly after the Prussian, Pole, and Gypsy did—all just before the attack.
The other three were also present by chance of fate. The Austrian man, now dancing with Yao, had connections to the Countess and managed to invite the others.
The Prussian approached the handsome woman Ivan had danced with and kissed her hand, inviting her to dance.
The Gypsy, now in a ball-gown and decorated mask, twirled along with partners of either sex—as most of the dancers had ended up doing. She was approached by the young girl with honey-colored hair and floral white dress. She was the one the girl had kissed.
The Pole danced with Toris, happy to be rejoined with his old friend. They took turns raising each other up and dancing. At the end Feliks rose to his toes and kissed Toris's cheek, knowing they would not see each other for some time more.
Yao ended up back again with Ivan out of curiosity. Ivan danced with him in a distracted matter, his eyes having been enraptured by something in the distance. He spun away from Yao and went towards that distant object.
Yao, annoyed at the rejection, took up a dance with Feliks. He examined the blonde, long hair and pink mask in amusement. They were the same height and build.
The end of the ball came much too soon. It was nearing one in the morning and everyone was ready to drop out of exhaustion. They exited the middle of the ball and rested for some time, taking seats and drinking champagne or wine.
Yao ended up in a seat next to an Italian man gazing dreamily ahead. His face was obscured in a black and white mask, plumed with red and purple feathers. His swallow-tailed coat hung off the seat. On his lapel a bright pink rose was pinned. He gazed at Yao and said something in Italian.
Yao could only smile politely and pretend to have understood. His eyes were still fastened onto that strange man with the sling. Ivan sat across from him, still distracted and obviously bothered by some inner turmoil. A lady in a blue dress and exposed bosom beside him spoke to him. He appeared not be listening and only vaguely nodding.
"And now we shall present a performance!" the breathless Countess called out. Everyone turned to face the middle.
The best dancers stood on either side of the clearing. The exhausted but nonetheless excited musicians hastened to begin a new song. The girl, at the tittering of the flute pranced in, arms spread wide. Her hair was tied back and her red dress trailed behind her. Her steps were delicate, made with small feet. She ended up in the middle and spun around so beautifully that everyone caught their breath. Her pretty eyes looked around, glittering happily. She paused and slowly rose, looking across at her male counterpart.
The boy had a light suit on and was poised in a ballet stance, before leaping and striding in. He approached her and, dropping down to a knee, held her hand, kissing it slowly. The music slurred and then piped up. The boy stood and took the girl's hand and waist. He spun her around and they danced a most breath-taking dance. They looked like the two figures in a music-box, so fragile.
Then several dancers in dark suits rushed between them, pulling them apart. The girl gesticulated in silent horror. The boy reached out for his partner. Yao understood that it was no ordinary dance but a performance. All was shown with only gestures and the music. No words needed to be uttered.
Dancers turned and spun. Their dresses and suits flashed in the chandelier light. The music became dark and moody. Through several discourses and changes in beat, the couple returned to each other. Again the music slowed for an interval before popping once the dancer struck out their arms. Dancers in black dropped, as though dead, but still created a circle for the couple to dance. Again the musicians took up a pensive, gloomy dance as the couple appeared to weep and mourn. Again the music became beautiful and lovely. Their dance was both sorrowful and romantic.
After crying out some phrase in German, the dance ended with a powerful stomp from both and a pose struck up.
The phrase they said was this:
"To time: the healer of all!"
At that beat Ivan woke up violently from his reverie and stared across the hall at Yao. The crowd applauded and began to rise.
"That is Yao!" Ivan cried, tears of delight springing up in his eyes. He stood but so did the crowd as they crowded around, preparing to leave. He fought through the people, trying to get to Yao. Yao too had stood up and began to make his leave, becoming lost in the crowd.
Ivan wanted to cry out but he also did not want to be suspected of lunacy, so he searched in vain instead. He went up to every black-haired person and peered at their face. The person looked back, understanding that he was searching for someone, and tried to offer advice. He did not listen, being too engrossed in his own worries.
In the end, he ended up outside in the cold night. Light began to stain the outer edge of the sky and the fresh smell that comes with exiting a stuffy area filled his face. Groups went into carriages and Ivan went through them. He only found the girl with honey-colored hair, the handsome women, and the group from the city as recognizable faces. The carriages departed—all but one that was his own.
He looked around, pushing away his mask. Lines from where it pressed down were red and visible. Still, he could not find Yao.
Yao had slipped away through the back and left towards his barn, exhausted and planning his next course of action. He wondered if he should find that ordered cabby and go back home. That, he decided, was the best course of action. He planned to leave the next day.
Ivan, now sitting in the manor, looked down at his hands and feared he would weep. Tears threatened to spill over. He felt hopeless and in complete, biting pain. "Time," he thought, "If you truly are the healer of all; heal me."
Just a warning: the next chapter will be the grand finale! Thank you again for all the lovely reviews. I hope this story made at least some sort of an impression.
Also, I never promised a happy ending.