The Heralds of the White God: 8
Title: The Heralds of the White God chapter 8 - King's Bane
Rating: M
Warnings: Graphic violence (this chapter)
Summary: In which Kurogane confronts Ashura for the last time, and Sakura meets a new friend.
The Wizards Of Ceres
Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV
Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII
Chapter IX - Chapter X
Abandoned by Fai, Kurogane went back to the guest chamber he'd been assigned when he arrived; he knew the way without help, since it was the same room as when he'd been a prisoner of war the last winter. He didn't have fond memories of this room; he much preferred Fai's.
Syaoran was not there, which annoyed Kurogane; although he admitted guiltily to himself that he had pretty much abandoned the kid since arriving at Ceres. He hadn't meant to, but other things had been more pressing -- first Fai's health, then the audience with the King, petitioning for peace in Amaterasu's name. Syaoran was a big boy, and had doubtless found some other way to amuse himself… but he had no idea where to find the kid now.
Not feeling much inclined to sit in the bare chamber and wait, Kurogane set out to look for his charge. He wasn't entirely sure where to search; his knowledge of the palace was spotty. There were many rooms and hallways, and some entire wings that he had never been allowed to see before. He decided he'd at least try the public areas first, before he collared some passing servant to help him.
As he was coming through the front gallery, a wide open space with many cross-corridors turning off, he heard the first screams. He slowed and stopped, dropping into a defensive crouch as he looked around for the source of the voices.
They came from the end of the hall, the broad closed double doors where Ashura had retired with his council. A feeling of foreboding came over him, and he strode towards the door, then stopped, wavering uncertainly. Even if something was wrong, was it his place to do something about it? Ceres had its own guards, didn't they? They probably wouldn't take kindly to him charging with a drawn sword into what could just be a traditional Ceres-style shouting debate…
The next noise to rock the glittering gallery was an explosion, and Kurogane ran forward, drawing Souhi from her sheath before he could entertain any more second thoughts.
The door was locked, barred from the inside. Kurogane slammed his fist against the wood panels in frustration. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle from within, the scrape and clash of steel, and the raw, visceral screams of the dying. No argument or casual brawl could produce sounds like that.
"What the hell is going on?" Now the guards were arriving; Kurogane turned his head to see a pair of them running full pelt out of some cross corridor. The lead of the pair tried the door, then cursed as he made the same discovery Kurogane had.
"There's some kind of fighting going on in there!" Kurogane said, frustrated. He hated repeating the obvious, but he didn't have any more light to shed on the subject.
"We're under attack!" the second guard cried out, his panicked voice ringing across the chamber and echoing in the hallways. "Protect the king!"
"But who is it? How could they have gotten in here?" the first guard exclaimed. "There's been no intruders at the gates! How could they have gotten in through all the defenses and guards and wards, to strike directly at the heart…?"
An image flashed in Kurogane's mind, so stark and sudden that it shadowed his vision of the real world. An ancestral shrine, a woman in miko robes; a hole in the world, an arm extending a sword. Blood and fire and searing magics. He reached through all our wards and defenses like they were nothing…
To hell with this, he was not going to be locked out of whatever the fuck was going on in there. He dropped into a stance and readied his ki. "Get back," he growled, and the conviction in his voice drove the startled guards to step back. "Senryuu hikogen!"
The door blasted apart, and Kurogane stepped forward into a scene from nightmare.
Fresh, bright blood covered the enameled floor, spattered the walls in wide arc. Bodies lay huddled in piles on the floor, violently hacked and mutilated, not all of them whole. Kurogane's gorge rose as he scanned the scene, and he gripped his sword at the ready, looking around for enemies.
The only man left alive in the grisly scene was Ashura. He stood, serene and smiling, at the center of the bloody spatters. Bright gore stained the hem of his robe, and his own drawn sword; in his left hand he held a severed arm, dripping steadily onto the tiles. Kurogane's head jerked back as an overpowering reek washed over him; from the burning sensation in his head, it took him a moment to identify the sensation as magic, not a physical smell at all.
"What the hell is this?" Kurogane growled, his mind spinning. Had there been some kind of attempted coup? Had Ashura planned all this, arranged this meeting with the nobles just so that he could eliminate the greatest threats to his control all in one swoop? He wouldn't put it past Ashura to do something so ruthless… but a political motive didn’t quite add up. Not with the throbbing stink of magic still filling the room, and Ashura's eyes…
"Y-your majesty?" one of the guards who had followed him in stuttered in a shocked voice. "What -- what happened? Were you injured?"
Ashura turned to him and smiled, and what was in his eyes made Kurogane take a step back. Cautiously, the guard approached him, reaching out as though to offer his monarch assistance. Without a change of expression, he raised his arm and lopped off the guard's head in a single blow. Blood fountained as the body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and Ashura turned next to them.
The dead guard's partner cried out in horror, and turned to flee; but before he could take two steps, Ashura raised a hand and crooked his fingers. An invisible force rushed across the room and slammed the man to the floor. As the unseen hand began to pull him across the blood-slick floor towards the mad king, he screamed in terror; then that scream was cut off abruptly as the great blade swept around again.
"What the fuck," Kurogane said in a shaken voice, unable to find any greater words to express his shock and horror as the guard toppled in two pieces to the bloody floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bastard!"
"My power grows with each person I kill," Ashura explained in a calm, conversational voice. "I must go out and find more people to kill, so that it will increase even more. Soon, I will be invincible."
"You're mad as a rabid dog -- keep your crazy reasons to yourself," Kurogane growled. "I don't know what happened to you and I don't care, but you'll have to get past me first!"
Ashura's calm expression and serene smile did not change; without any warning, he leapt forward, and his sword clashed with Kurogane's.
Kurogane had fought Ashura once before, a duel in which he'd beaten Kurogane handily with his magical powers. Kurogane had never tried to challenge him again, knowing that he could not best a sorcerer-knight -- but this was no duel of courtesy. This was a fight to the death, his own death as well as Gods knew how many others; and his only advantage this time was that he knew not to underestimate Ashura.
Steel rang out as the two warriors fought their way across the abattoir; Kurogane called on all his skill, but could just barely stay ahead of Ashura's hungry blade. Forced steadily backwards, his foot came down on the long blood-slick hair of a dead woman, and he felt his footing give underneath him. The king's sword changed its angle, cutting in to the side to take advantage of the opening -- he leapt clear of the blade, twisting in mid-air to unleash a blast of fire towards his opponent. "Hama ryu-ou jin!"
Ashura spun his off-hand up to block it; his clenched fist glowed with a blue light, and the fire parted and flowed around him, leaving him unharmed. Kurogane unleashed another blast, this time not waiting for it to connect before he charged in again.
Their blades locked, pitting strength against strength; and suddenly Kurogane felt the momentum shift to his advantage, as the image of Ashura's sword flashed in his mind and he realized something about its design that he never had before. Quickly he slid his blade down to lock hilts with the decorated quillions of Ashura's pommel; with a twist and a heave of his arms, strength more accustomed to fighting demons than men, he ripped the sword out of Ashura's grasp and sent it flying across the room. Lunging forward he grabbed the sable ruff of Ashura's robe in one hand, bringing Souhi's blade up to press against his neck.
"Yield, or die!" he snarled, and he heard the gasps and frightened screams of voices from the doorway behind him -- but he had no time to turn or look at them, or even wonder how this must appear to others. "I told you before that I won't hesitate, Ashura!"
"Good," Ashura said, the tone of his voice unchanged from that eerily flat, conversational tone. "Such powerful conviction in those fierce eyes… I like it."
Ashura raised his hand, and too late Kurogane realized his mistake in not killing the man immediately -- even disarmed, Ashura was never helpless.
Tight bands of crushing, invisible force wrapped around Kurogane, and his sword dropped helplessly away from Ashura's neck as his arms were forced tight to his sides. He dimly felt his feet leave the ground as he was lifted into the air by the squeezing hand; he could not breathe against the pressure, and dizzy spots began to swim in his eyes as his lungs strained.
Kurogane choked, air forced from his lungs in a wheezing grunt as the invisible bands wrapped tighter; his fingers twitched helplessly on the hilt of his sword, and the world began to waver in his vision. This time, he knew, Ashura would not be content with his defeat and humiliation. He was going to die. Ashura was going to crush him into a bloody pulp, and then he'd go on to calmly slaughter his way through the rest of the palace until somebody was able to stop him. If anyone could stop him.
What would happen to Fai if he died...?
He had to fight this, he could not let this happen. He had to fight back, but how could he fight against magic? He cursed in bitter rage that he had never been able to finish magical training with Fai; Fai had always told him that he had magic, strong magic of his own, but what use was a weapon that you did not know how to wield?
The chamber was almost completely dark around him now, and he could feel his bones and flesh creak with unbearable agony as the crushing force became stronger. He could feel the king's magic, now, with a sightless sixth sense; feel it like bands of cloth wrapping tight about him. With the last of his consciousness, he clutched at his fragments of memory: what Fai had told him about magic. What Fai had told him… that he could use magic, in his own way, in the context of swordfighting. He had the power; he knew he did, if he could only find some way…
He remembered another darkness, another pain, collapsed helplessly in Seishirou's dungeon and half-dead from loss of blood. Fai had caught him, and Fai had taken Kurogane's own magic to break the magical bonds that fettered him. Fai had used Chiryuu enbu, the dragon circle dance, an outward-facing spiral of energy to counter the inwards circle of binding…
There was no room to swing, and he had no air to speak. But Fai had always told him that he didn't need such things, not really -- they were only crutches. He reached deep inside himself, into the center of his being where he gathered his ki for his attacks, and ripped out a howling blast of pure, unrefined energy, directing it to a growing outwards spiral that increased in force with every cycle.
The invisible bands ripped and shredded away, and Ashura cried out as the force of the recoil lashed him, and the widening spiral of the chi ryuu en bu sent him staggering backwards. Kurogane dropped to the ground and fell to his knees, heaving huge gulps of air as the blood pulsed and thundered in his head, his vision swimming and nausea churning in his gut.
Ashura recovered first, and sent another furling blast of force at him; Kurogane hastily gathered his ki and knocked it aside with barely a conscious thought as to how he did it. It was like wielding a sword without the sword, it was like a part of his body that he'd never realized he owned before. With great difficulty, he staggered to his feet, forced himself to stand firm on his shaking limbs and face the king again.
"Not so easy, Your Majesty," he growled; his voice felt like grinding rocks in his throat. "Let's finish this."
Ashura's calm demeanor was broken at last; his face was distorted by inhuman, insane rage as he lashed out at Kurogane again. The warrior barely deflected each blast of magic with the same barely-realized, unconscious defense, but he knew he was hurt -- and Ashura would not be brought down short of death.
"Stop!" a voice cried out from behind them, and despite all his discipline, Kurogane's attention was jerked around by that voice. Fai was standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched; streamers of blue light spooled from his fingers, and he was chanting a long, breathless stream of words that Kurogane could not understand.
The spell rushed by him, and he staggered in the wake of its power even though it was not meant for him. He managed a few steps to get out of its path before his knees gave out, and he half-fell ungracefully on his ass, fascinated by the picture before him.
Bright blue-white strands of magic -- each one an endless whispering stream of rune words -- wrapped around Ashura. For a moment he struggled against them, an inhuman snarl fixing his face and his hands like claws ripping the air; then his face and his hands relaxed, and the tension slowly drained from his limbs. His eyes slipped closed, and he sank to the floor with an expression of peaceful slumber.
Fai moved forward and knelt next to Ashura's prone form, still muttering the litany of words. Tendrils of blue light obeyed him, flowing from his hands to coil about Ashura's prone form until he appeared to be wrapped in a cocoon of glittering light. Only then did Fai's voice falter and fall silent, his hands dropping to his sides.
"What," Kurogane was still getting his breath back. "What just happened here?"
Fai didn't answer at once; he laid his hand on Ashura's chest, then his throat, then his forehead. Then he shifted and splayed both palms on Ashura's face, fingers wrapping around his temples, his eyes closed in concentration. "It's a curse," he said, his voice distant and thin. "A bane. It's destroying his mind."
"What? What curse? From where?" Kurogane asked, bewildered. Then his brain caught up with the flash of insight he'd had before all this began, and he grabbed at Fai's sleeve. "Is it --"
Their eyes met, and he knew they were sharing the same thought; of Seishirou's mysterious master, the unknown warlock whose portals could cut through space.
Running footsteps sounded through the hall, as more relief guards finally began to pour in. Kurogane rose to his feet, pinning the closest of them with a glare. "Hey, you!" he bellowed. "We need some help over here! Who's in charge?"
"Assassin!" the guard cried out, skidding to a halt and planting his halbard against the floor, aiming it white-knuckled against Kurogane. Several others formed up behind him, taking a wary but determined stance around them. "You murdered our king -- our lords! A coward's attack -- "
Kurogane bit his tongue on a curse; he hadn't stopped to think just how bad this would look, standing over the fallen body of their king in the middle of a scene of slaughter, sword still in hand. "I attacked no one," he snapped, flipping his blade over and raiding it carefully with the dull side forward. "See -- my sword is clean. This blood was spilled by the blade of your king. He attacked the others in a blind rage; I only sought to defend myself. The wizard was a witness."
The guard took a step back, the point of the spear rising. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and Kurogane saw with some frustration as his train of thought shifted from 'How did this outsider cause this disaster,' to 'How much can we blame the outsider for this disaster.' He snarled in exasperation.
"There's no time for this," Fai said unsteadily. He knelt at the king's head, the hem of his robe soaking in blood, blue light still leaking continuously from his fingertips. "The king's condition is worsening with every minute. I can barely hold back the degeneration. I need the healers to help me -- I need Hisoka, and Yukito, and Kazahaya -- he's still not back in the palace, is he? Then Kakei --"
The guards seemed to recover their composure now that they were given something to do, and several of them raced off, hopefully to find the requested healers and bring them back. Although if anyone in the palace wasn't already coming to see what the commotion was about, they must be deaf or comatose.
Yukito arrived on the scene in less than a minute, breathless and shocked deathly pale. Behind him came the short wizard with the ginger hair and green eyes that Kurogane had met several times, and a taller, composed-looking man that Kurogane didn't know. They ignored him completely, falling into a diamond pattern around their fallen king with Fai at the first point. Their voices mixed with his in a long-complicated sounding invocation, and the blue light gained in brightness and strength.
Other men were arriving on the wreckage of the scene, beginning to pick their way around to the other bodies and checking for signs of life. Kurogane considered moving to help, but if he were needed anywhere, it would probably be here in case Ashura broke loose of his restraints and continued his murderous rampage.
All the Ceresians seemed to be in a state of stunned shock, and he couldn't blame them; in an hour of bloody carnage, everything they knew had been blown into pieces. The military men moved with stiff, wooden postures, and he saw some of the serving women huddled into a corner, clinging to each other and sobbing. He stood among them all, feeling helpless and useless, and as though he were somehow at fault for this catastrophe.
He was the first to look up when another set of running footsteps approached, and tensed when he saw who it was. Syaoran burst into the room, breathless and panting and with tears streaking his face. "Kid?" he called out gruffly, striding towards the hallway doors. "Where have you been? This isn't a safe place to come in right now. Go up to the rooms --"
"She's gone!" Syaoran shouted, his words ringing loudly around the chamber. "She's gone missing, and where were all of you? Damn you! Why wasn't anybody there to help her?"
"What's going on?" Kurogane demanded, as figures began to gather around them. "Who's gone?"
"Princess Sakura!" Syaoran cried, and he swiped angrily at his tear-streaked cheek with his sleeve. "I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't stop him! Why wasn't anybody else looking after her? He came right into rooms, right out of nowhere, through a tear in the world and he took her!"
"Someone kidnapped the princess?" Kurogane repeated in disbelief. His first question, 'What the fuck were you doing in Princess Sakura's rooms?' would obviously have to wait. He grabbed Syaoran's shoulder, squeezing tightly and giving him a little shake to calm his near hysteria. "Who? Who was it? What did he look like?!"
"I don't know! I didn't see all of him," Syaoran said in frustration, staggering and grabbing Kurogane's arm for balance. "Just a, a, silhouette, and part of an arm and sleeve. I'm sure it was a man, dressed in a long black robe, with some sort of black and gold symbol --"
"It's the same thing," Fai interrupted from behind them, and Kurogane turned around to see him looking up at them. The expression of dead calmness on his face was somehow more evocative of grief than all Syaoran's frustrated tears. "This, all this was just a distraction. It was meant to draw us away, leave her undefended while he made his move."
"And you fell for it!" Syaoran cried accusingly.
"Yes," Fai said still in that dead-calm voice. "And now he has her."
***
Sakura awoke feeling chilled and disoriented, with a vague unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she shifted position, she realized she was lying on a hard, cold surface; shivering, she pushed herself up and rubbed her hands over her arms.
What had happened? She remembered this morning's Proclamations, the terrible shock of her father's betrayal. She remembered fleeing to her rooms, and Syaoran coming and doing his best to cheer her up. She'd asked to be alone for a little while, exhausted from her emotional outburst; she'd laid down on her bed and then... things got muzzy. She remembered a strange light seen out of the corner of her eye, a yellow-green haze that seemed to creep across her walls and rugs. Had that been a dream? Was this a dream?
She remembered the sound of running footsteps, and through the haze she thought she'd seen Syaoran's face, twisted by fear and anguish... for her. His hand, reached for her through the darkness... instinctively she'd reached back, but their hands had only brushed for an instant before an irresistible force sucked her backwards into the darkness.
What had happened? Where was she now? She was no longer in the palace, that much was certain; the heating spells kept the palace warmer than this, even in the coldest winter storms. Her light, gauzy clothes were not really suited for chilly temperatures, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
She was in a large, dimly lit, cool stone chamber. The walls and ceilings arched away into the darkness, giving the impression of vast space; light from flickering sconces set along the walls did not really illuminate the whole space. The floor beneath her was smooth and hard, some kind of slate or stone tile, and an intricate mosaic pattern spiraled outwards from the center to the walls.
The centerpiece of the room was a massive black chair, stone like the walls and floor. She sat on a clear space between the front of the throne and, on her other side, a large stone ring covered with elaborate engravings. Magic, she realized with a chill, although she had no idea what they were for.
Sakura was beginning to be frightened; this wasn't a dream. She'd been kidnapped. But how? And by whom? Some dissident noble faction, hoping to use her as leverage against her father? She knew all of the court wizards well, and she knew they were loyal; she couldn't believe that any of them would lend themselves to a kidnapping plot. But who else could there be?
"Hello?" she called out, trying to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice. "I-is anyone there?"
Her voice rang in echoes off the high stone arches. For a long moment there was no answer; just before she was about to go looking for a way out, she heard the shuffling echo of footsteps coming her way.
A tall, imposing man stepped into view through an archway, carrying a lantern. The yellow light spilled illumination on elaborately embroidered robes that swept the floor, up his arm to a face made grave with a salt-and-pepper beard and deep, dark eyes.
"Welcome, Princess," the man said, his voice a gravelly dark rumble. "I hope that you have recovered from the shock of your abrupt translocation. It affects some people's stomachs that way, I understand. I apologize for any discomfort that you may have experienced."
"Who are you?" Sakura demanded, wavering between hope and fear as the man approached. He had an air of solemn dignity about him, a bearing of power that Sakura knew well from watching the great lords and kings of Ceres at work -- except on this man it seemed to carry an air of weary melancholy, like a burden carried for years that was too heavy to put down. "Where is this?"
"My name is Fei Wong Reed," the grave man answered, stopping at the edge of the etched circle a few feet away from her. He extended his hand downwards towards her. The cuffs and shoulders of the sleeves bore a design in heavy gold embroidery; a golden circle set with black wings. "This is the chapel, a holy place from eras past. But not for many years. The world is consumed by misery and strife, and the petty men fight each other endlessly for hatred and greed. The time may soon come that it will be holy again, but that will depend, in part, on you."
"Me?" Sakura shrank back from his hand, tugging her sleeves nervously down her arms to combat the chill. "Wh-what do you need me for?" she stammered.
"Salvation," the man answered, as though it should be obvious. "Men's hearts are born into darkness; they need a guiding light to show them the path of wisdom and virtue. The Divine One, in her love and mercy, can save us all; but only if we can make our voices reach her. That is our task, the ultimate purpose of our long years of labor, and at last the culmination of the centuries is at hand. I have been waiting to meet you for a long, long time, Princess."
He still held out his hand towards her, patient in the face of her fearfulness. Looking up into his face, she got the sense from his steel-grey eyes that he could be patient for a very, very long time. Hesitantly, she reached up and placed her trembling fingers in his.
His grip closed about her hand, cool and sure and powerful, and he pulled her to her feet with a single smooth movement. "We are the heralds of the White God," Fei Wong Reed said; "and we need your help to save the world."
~to be continued...
Rating: M
Warnings: Graphic violence (this chapter)
Summary: In which Kurogane confronts Ashura for the last time, and Sakura meets a new friend.
The Wizards Of Ceres
Chapter I - Chapter II - Chapter III - Chapter IV
Chapter V - Chapter VI - Chapter VII - Chapter VIII
Chapter IX - Chapter X
Abandoned by Fai, Kurogane went back to the guest chamber he'd been assigned when he arrived; he knew the way without help, since it was the same room as when he'd been a prisoner of war the last winter. He didn't have fond memories of this room; he much preferred Fai's.
Syaoran was not there, which annoyed Kurogane; although he admitted guiltily to himself that he had pretty much abandoned the kid since arriving at Ceres. He hadn't meant to, but other things had been more pressing -- first Fai's health, then the audience with the King, petitioning for peace in Amaterasu's name. Syaoran was a big boy, and had doubtless found some other way to amuse himself… but he had no idea where to find the kid now.
Not feeling much inclined to sit in the bare chamber and wait, Kurogane set out to look for his charge. He wasn't entirely sure where to search; his knowledge of the palace was spotty. There were many rooms and hallways, and some entire wings that he had never been allowed to see before. He decided he'd at least try the public areas first, before he collared some passing servant to help him.
As he was coming through the front gallery, a wide open space with many cross-corridors turning off, he heard the first screams. He slowed and stopped, dropping into a defensive crouch as he looked around for the source of the voices.
They came from the end of the hall, the broad closed double doors where Ashura had retired with his council. A feeling of foreboding came over him, and he strode towards the door, then stopped, wavering uncertainly. Even if something was wrong, was it his place to do something about it? Ceres had its own guards, didn't they? They probably wouldn't take kindly to him charging with a drawn sword into what could just be a traditional Ceres-style shouting debate…
The next noise to rock the glittering gallery was an explosion, and Kurogane ran forward, drawing Souhi from her sheath before he could entertain any more second thoughts.
The door was locked, barred from the inside. Kurogane slammed his fist against the wood panels in frustration. He could hear the unmistakable sounds of battle from within, the scrape and clash of steel, and the raw, visceral screams of the dying. No argument or casual brawl could produce sounds like that.
"What the hell is going on?" Now the guards were arriving; Kurogane turned his head to see a pair of them running full pelt out of some cross corridor. The lead of the pair tried the door, then cursed as he made the same discovery Kurogane had.
"There's some kind of fighting going on in there!" Kurogane said, frustrated. He hated repeating the obvious, but he didn't have any more light to shed on the subject.
"We're under attack!" the second guard cried out, his panicked voice ringing across the chamber and echoing in the hallways. "Protect the king!"
"But who is it? How could they have gotten in here?" the first guard exclaimed. "There's been no intruders at the gates! How could they have gotten in through all the defenses and guards and wards, to strike directly at the heart…?"
An image flashed in Kurogane's mind, so stark and sudden that it shadowed his vision of the real world. An ancestral shrine, a woman in miko robes; a hole in the world, an arm extending a sword. Blood and fire and searing magics. He reached through all our wards and defenses like they were nothing…
To hell with this, he was not going to be locked out of whatever the fuck was going on in there. He dropped into a stance and readied his ki. "Get back," he growled, and the conviction in his voice drove the startled guards to step back. "Senryuu hikogen!"
The door blasted apart, and Kurogane stepped forward into a scene from nightmare.
Fresh, bright blood covered the enameled floor, spattered the walls in wide arc. Bodies lay huddled in piles on the floor, violently hacked and mutilated, not all of them whole. Kurogane's gorge rose as he scanned the scene, and he gripped his sword at the ready, looking around for enemies.
The only man left alive in the grisly scene was Ashura. He stood, serene and smiling, at the center of the bloody spatters. Bright gore stained the hem of his robe, and his own drawn sword; in his left hand he held a severed arm, dripping steadily onto the tiles. Kurogane's head jerked back as an overpowering reek washed over him; from the burning sensation in his head, it took him a moment to identify the sensation as magic, not a physical smell at all.
"What the hell is this?" Kurogane growled, his mind spinning. Had there been some kind of attempted coup? Had Ashura planned all this, arranged this meeting with the nobles just so that he could eliminate the greatest threats to his control all in one swoop? He wouldn't put it past Ashura to do something so ruthless… but a political motive didn’t quite add up. Not with the throbbing stink of magic still filling the room, and Ashura's eyes…
"Y-your majesty?" one of the guards who had followed him in stuttered in a shocked voice. "What -- what happened? Were you injured?"
Ashura turned to him and smiled, and what was in his eyes made Kurogane take a step back. Cautiously, the guard approached him, reaching out as though to offer his monarch assistance. Without a change of expression, he raised his arm and lopped off the guard's head in a single blow. Blood fountained as the body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and Ashura turned next to them.
The dead guard's partner cried out in horror, and turned to flee; but before he could take two steps, Ashura raised a hand and crooked his fingers. An invisible force rushed across the room and slammed the man to the floor. As the unseen hand began to pull him across the blood-slick floor towards the mad king, he screamed in terror; then that scream was cut off abruptly as the great blade swept around again.
"What the fuck," Kurogane said in a shaken voice, unable to find any greater words to express his shock and horror as the guard toppled in two pieces to the bloody floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bastard!"
"My power grows with each person I kill," Ashura explained in a calm, conversational voice. "I must go out and find more people to kill, so that it will increase even more. Soon, I will be invincible."
"You're mad as a rabid dog -- keep your crazy reasons to yourself," Kurogane growled. "I don't know what happened to you and I don't care, but you'll have to get past me first!"
Ashura's calm expression and serene smile did not change; without any warning, he leapt forward, and his sword clashed with Kurogane's.
Kurogane had fought Ashura once before, a duel in which he'd beaten Kurogane handily with his magical powers. Kurogane had never tried to challenge him again, knowing that he could not best a sorcerer-knight -- but this was no duel of courtesy. This was a fight to the death, his own death as well as Gods knew how many others; and his only advantage this time was that he knew not to underestimate Ashura.
Steel rang out as the two warriors fought their way across the abattoir; Kurogane called on all his skill, but could just barely stay ahead of Ashura's hungry blade. Forced steadily backwards, his foot came down on the long blood-slick hair of a dead woman, and he felt his footing give underneath him. The king's sword changed its angle, cutting in to the side to take advantage of the opening -- he leapt clear of the blade, twisting in mid-air to unleash a blast of fire towards his opponent. "Hama ryu-ou jin!"
Ashura spun his off-hand up to block it; his clenched fist glowed with a blue light, and the fire parted and flowed around him, leaving him unharmed. Kurogane unleashed another blast, this time not waiting for it to connect before he charged in again.
Their blades locked, pitting strength against strength; and suddenly Kurogane felt the momentum shift to his advantage, as the image of Ashura's sword flashed in his mind and he realized something about its design that he never had before. Quickly he slid his blade down to lock hilts with the decorated quillions of Ashura's pommel; with a twist and a heave of his arms, strength more accustomed to fighting demons than men, he ripped the sword out of Ashura's grasp and sent it flying across the room. Lunging forward he grabbed the sable ruff of Ashura's robe in one hand, bringing Souhi's blade up to press against his neck.
"Yield, or die!" he snarled, and he heard the gasps and frightened screams of voices from the doorway behind him -- but he had no time to turn or look at them, or even wonder how this must appear to others. "I told you before that I won't hesitate, Ashura!"
"Good," Ashura said, the tone of his voice unchanged from that eerily flat, conversational tone. "Such powerful conviction in those fierce eyes… I like it."
Ashura raised his hand, and too late Kurogane realized his mistake in not killing the man immediately -- even disarmed, Ashura was never helpless.
Tight bands of crushing, invisible force wrapped around Kurogane, and his sword dropped helplessly away from Ashura's neck as his arms were forced tight to his sides. He dimly felt his feet leave the ground as he was lifted into the air by the squeezing hand; he could not breathe against the pressure, and dizzy spots began to swim in his eyes as his lungs strained.
Kurogane choked, air forced from his lungs in a wheezing grunt as the invisible bands wrapped tighter; his fingers twitched helplessly on the hilt of his sword, and the world began to waver in his vision. This time, he knew, Ashura would not be content with his defeat and humiliation. He was going to die. Ashura was going to crush him into a bloody pulp, and then he'd go on to calmly slaughter his way through the rest of the palace until somebody was able to stop him. If anyone could stop him.
What would happen to Fai if he died...?
He had to fight this, he could not let this happen. He had to fight back, but how could he fight against magic? He cursed in bitter rage that he had never been able to finish magical training with Fai; Fai had always told him that he had magic, strong magic of his own, but what use was a weapon that you did not know how to wield?
The chamber was almost completely dark around him now, and he could feel his bones and flesh creak with unbearable agony as the crushing force became stronger. He could feel the king's magic, now, with a sightless sixth sense; feel it like bands of cloth wrapping tight about him. With the last of his consciousness, he clutched at his fragments of memory: what Fai had told him about magic. What Fai had told him… that he could use magic, in his own way, in the context of swordfighting. He had the power; he knew he did, if he could only find some way…
He remembered another darkness, another pain, collapsed helplessly in Seishirou's dungeon and half-dead from loss of blood. Fai had caught him, and Fai had taken Kurogane's own magic to break the magical bonds that fettered him. Fai had used Chiryuu enbu, the dragon circle dance, an outward-facing spiral of energy to counter the inwards circle of binding…
There was no room to swing, and he had no air to speak. But Fai had always told him that he didn't need such things, not really -- they were only crutches. He reached deep inside himself, into the center of his being where he gathered his ki for his attacks, and ripped out a howling blast of pure, unrefined energy, directing it to a growing outwards spiral that increased in force with every cycle.
The invisible bands ripped and shredded away, and Ashura cried out as the force of the recoil lashed him, and the widening spiral of the chi ryuu en bu sent him staggering backwards. Kurogane dropped to the ground and fell to his knees, heaving huge gulps of air as the blood pulsed and thundered in his head, his vision swimming and nausea churning in his gut.
Ashura recovered first, and sent another furling blast of force at him; Kurogane hastily gathered his ki and knocked it aside with barely a conscious thought as to how he did it. It was like wielding a sword without the sword, it was like a part of his body that he'd never realized he owned before. With great difficulty, he staggered to his feet, forced himself to stand firm on his shaking limbs and face the king again.
"Not so easy, Your Majesty," he growled; his voice felt like grinding rocks in his throat. "Let's finish this."
Ashura's calm demeanor was broken at last; his face was distorted by inhuman, insane rage as he lashed out at Kurogane again. The warrior barely deflected each blast of magic with the same barely-realized, unconscious defense, but he knew he was hurt -- and Ashura would not be brought down short of death.
"Stop!" a voice cried out from behind them, and despite all his discipline, Kurogane's attention was jerked around by that voice. Fai was standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched; streamers of blue light spooled from his fingers, and he was chanting a long, breathless stream of words that Kurogane could not understand.
The spell rushed by him, and he staggered in the wake of its power even though it was not meant for him. He managed a few steps to get out of its path before his knees gave out, and he half-fell ungracefully on his ass, fascinated by the picture before him.
Bright blue-white strands of magic -- each one an endless whispering stream of rune words -- wrapped around Ashura. For a moment he struggled against them, an inhuman snarl fixing his face and his hands like claws ripping the air; then his face and his hands relaxed, and the tension slowly drained from his limbs. His eyes slipped closed, and he sank to the floor with an expression of peaceful slumber.
Fai moved forward and knelt next to Ashura's prone form, still muttering the litany of words. Tendrils of blue light obeyed him, flowing from his hands to coil about Ashura's prone form until he appeared to be wrapped in a cocoon of glittering light. Only then did Fai's voice falter and fall silent, his hands dropping to his sides.
"What," Kurogane was still getting his breath back. "What just happened here?"
Fai didn't answer at once; he laid his hand on Ashura's chest, then his throat, then his forehead. Then he shifted and splayed both palms on Ashura's face, fingers wrapping around his temples, his eyes closed in concentration. "It's a curse," he said, his voice distant and thin. "A bane. It's destroying his mind."
"What? What curse? From where?" Kurogane asked, bewildered. Then his brain caught up with the flash of insight he'd had before all this began, and he grabbed at Fai's sleeve. "Is it --"
Their eyes met, and he knew they were sharing the same thought; of Seishirou's mysterious master, the unknown warlock whose portals could cut through space.
Running footsteps sounded through the hall, as more relief guards finally began to pour in. Kurogane rose to his feet, pinning the closest of them with a glare. "Hey, you!" he bellowed. "We need some help over here! Who's in charge?"
"Assassin!" the guard cried out, skidding to a halt and planting his halbard against the floor, aiming it white-knuckled against Kurogane. Several others formed up behind him, taking a wary but determined stance around them. "You murdered our king -- our lords! A coward's attack -- "
Kurogane bit his tongue on a curse; he hadn't stopped to think just how bad this would look, standing over the fallen body of their king in the middle of a scene of slaughter, sword still in hand. "I attacked no one," he snapped, flipping his blade over and raiding it carefully with the dull side forward. "See -- my sword is clean. This blood was spilled by the blade of your king. He attacked the others in a blind rage; I only sought to defend myself. The wizard was a witness."
The guard took a step back, the point of the spear rising. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and Kurogane saw with some frustration as his train of thought shifted from 'How did this outsider cause this disaster,' to 'How much can we blame the outsider for this disaster.' He snarled in exasperation.
"There's no time for this," Fai said unsteadily. He knelt at the king's head, the hem of his robe soaking in blood, blue light still leaking continuously from his fingertips. "The king's condition is worsening with every minute. I can barely hold back the degeneration. I need the healers to help me -- I need Hisoka, and Yukito, and Kazahaya -- he's still not back in the palace, is he? Then Kakei --"
The guards seemed to recover their composure now that they were given something to do, and several of them raced off, hopefully to find the requested healers and bring them back. Although if anyone in the palace wasn't already coming to see what the commotion was about, they must be deaf or comatose.
Yukito arrived on the scene in less than a minute, breathless and shocked deathly pale. Behind him came the short wizard with the ginger hair and green eyes that Kurogane had met several times, and a taller, composed-looking man that Kurogane didn't know. They ignored him completely, falling into a diamond pattern around their fallen king with Fai at the first point. Their voices mixed with his in a long-complicated sounding invocation, and the blue light gained in brightness and strength.
Other men were arriving on the wreckage of the scene, beginning to pick their way around to the other bodies and checking for signs of life. Kurogane considered moving to help, but if he were needed anywhere, it would probably be here in case Ashura broke loose of his restraints and continued his murderous rampage.
All the Ceresians seemed to be in a state of stunned shock, and he couldn't blame them; in an hour of bloody carnage, everything they knew had been blown into pieces. The military men moved with stiff, wooden postures, and he saw some of the serving women huddled into a corner, clinging to each other and sobbing. He stood among them all, feeling helpless and useless, and as though he were somehow at fault for this catastrophe.
He was the first to look up when another set of running footsteps approached, and tensed when he saw who it was. Syaoran burst into the room, breathless and panting and with tears streaking his face. "Kid?" he called out gruffly, striding towards the hallway doors. "Where have you been? This isn't a safe place to come in right now. Go up to the rooms --"
"She's gone!" Syaoran shouted, his words ringing loudly around the chamber. "She's gone missing, and where were all of you? Damn you! Why wasn't anybody there to help her?"
"What's going on?" Kurogane demanded, as figures began to gather around them. "Who's gone?"
"Princess Sakura!" Syaoran cried, and he swiped angrily at his tear-streaked cheek with his sleeve. "I couldn't get there in time, I couldn't stop him! Why wasn't anybody else looking after her? He came right into rooms, right out of nowhere, through a tear in the world and he took her!"
"Someone kidnapped the princess?" Kurogane repeated in disbelief. His first question, 'What the fuck were you doing in Princess Sakura's rooms?' would obviously have to wait. He grabbed Syaoran's shoulder, squeezing tightly and giving him a little shake to calm his near hysteria. "Who? Who was it? What did he look like?!"
"I don't know! I didn't see all of him," Syaoran said in frustration, staggering and grabbing Kurogane's arm for balance. "Just a, a, silhouette, and part of an arm and sleeve. I'm sure it was a man, dressed in a long black robe, with some sort of black and gold symbol --"
"It's the same thing," Fai interrupted from behind them, and Kurogane turned around to see him looking up at them. The expression of dead calmness on his face was somehow more evocative of grief than all Syaoran's frustrated tears. "This, all this was just a distraction. It was meant to draw us away, leave her undefended while he made his move."
"And you fell for it!" Syaoran cried accusingly.
"Yes," Fai said still in that dead-calm voice. "And now he has her."
***
Sakura awoke feeling chilled and disoriented, with a vague unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. As she shifted position, she realized she was lying on a hard, cold surface; shivering, she pushed herself up and rubbed her hands over her arms.
What had happened? She remembered this morning's Proclamations, the terrible shock of her father's betrayal. She remembered fleeing to her rooms, and Syaoran coming and doing his best to cheer her up. She'd asked to be alone for a little while, exhausted from her emotional outburst; she'd laid down on her bed and then... things got muzzy. She remembered a strange light seen out of the corner of her eye, a yellow-green haze that seemed to creep across her walls and rugs. Had that been a dream? Was this a dream?
She remembered the sound of running footsteps, and through the haze she thought she'd seen Syaoran's face, twisted by fear and anguish... for her. His hand, reached for her through the darkness... instinctively she'd reached back, but their hands had only brushed for an instant before an irresistible force sucked her backwards into the darkness.
What had happened? Where was she now? She was no longer in the palace, that much was certain; the heating spells kept the palace warmer than this, even in the coldest winter storms. Her light, gauzy clothes were not really suited for chilly temperatures, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
She was in a large, dimly lit, cool stone chamber. The walls and ceilings arched away into the darkness, giving the impression of vast space; light from flickering sconces set along the walls did not really illuminate the whole space. The floor beneath her was smooth and hard, some kind of slate or stone tile, and an intricate mosaic pattern spiraled outwards from the center to the walls.
The centerpiece of the room was a massive black chair, stone like the walls and floor. She sat on a clear space between the front of the throne and, on her other side, a large stone ring covered with elaborate engravings. Magic, she realized with a chill, although she had no idea what they were for.
Sakura was beginning to be frightened; this wasn't a dream. She'd been kidnapped. But how? And by whom? Some dissident noble faction, hoping to use her as leverage against her father? She knew all of the court wizards well, and she knew they were loyal; she couldn't believe that any of them would lend themselves to a kidnapping plot. But who else could there be?
"Hello?" she called out, trying to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice. "I-is anyone there?"
Her voice rang in echoes off the high stone arches. For a long moment there was no answer; just before she was about to go looking for a way out, she heard the shuffling echo of footsteps coming her way.
A tall, imposing man stepped into view through an archway, carrying a lantern. The yellow light spilled illumination on elaborately embroidered robes that swept the floor, up his arm to a face made grave with a salt-and-pepper beard and deep, dark eyes.
"Welcome, Princess," the man said, his voice a gravelly dark rumble. "I hope that you have recovered from the shock of your abrupt translocation. It affects some people's stomachs that way, I understand. I apologize for any discomfort that you may have experienced."
"Who are you?" Sakura demanded, wavering between hope and fear as the man approached. He had an air of solemn dignity about him, a bearing of power that Sakura knew well from watching the great lords and kings of Ceres at work -- except on this man it seemed to carry an air of weary melancholy, like a burden carried for years that was too heavy to put down. "Where is this?"
"My name is Fei Wong Reed," the grave man answered, stopping at the edge of the etched circle a few feet away from her. He extended his hand downwards towards her. The cuffs and shoulders of the sleeves bore a design in heavy gold embroidery; a golden circle set with black wings. "This is the chapel, a holy place from eras past. But not for many years. The world is consumed by misery and strife, and the petty men fight each other endlessly for hatred and greed. The time may soon come that it will be holy again, but that will depend, in part, on you."
"Me?" Sakura shrank back from his hand, tugging her sleeves nervously down her arms to combat the chill. "Wh-what do you need me for?" she stammered.
"Salvation," the man answered, as though it should be obvious. "Men's hearts are born into darkness; they need a guiding light to show them the path of wisdom and virtue. The Divine One, in her love and mercy, can save us all; but only if we can make our voices reach her. That is our task, the ultimate purpose of our long years of labor, and at last the culmination of the centuries is at hand. I have been waiting to meet you for a long, long time, Princess."
He still held out his hand towards her, patient in the face of her fearfulness. Looking up into his face, she got the sense from his steel-grey eyes that he could be patient for a very, very long time. Hesitantly, she reached up and placed her trembling fingers in his.
His grip closed about her hand, cool and sure and powerful, and he pulled her to her feet with a single smooth movement. "We are the heralds of the White God," Fei Wong Reed said; "and we need your help to save the world."
~to be continued...