Chapter Twenty One
Stomach, growling, fingers hurt...
Chapter Twenty One: The Guardian.
They were on the street at nine o’clock waiting for their taxi to arrive. Over breakfast Drawin had pinpointed on a map where Kreole’s body had been hidden. It had taken him about ten minutes to find the location because he kept complaining that there had never been so many streets before.
The body had been hidden in the temple of Cilf, Goddess of the Sun. the temple was still standing, even to this day. Which made Alfred wonder how they’d missed the body of a God. Then again, he wasn’t even sure what Kreole’s body would be. Was it something corporeal, that you could touch? Or was it something else?
Their taxi arrived and the three of them bundled in.
“To the temple of Cilf.” Van told the driver.
“Wow. We’re so close, I’m so excited. What about you guys?” Ashliegh rubbed her hands together.
Van shrugged. “It’s only Alfred that’s going to be getting the God out of him. I have to wait.”
Ashliegh laughed. “Don’t be so disheartened. We’re going to meet Kreole. Finally meet him. And find out whose been trying to kill you all.”
“Just because Kreole will have his body back, doesn’t mean that the whole mystery will resolve itself.” Alfred told her.
/No. I think much will be revealed, but not all. /
/Yes. They must know how close we are. If it is truly the work of a God. / Drawin commented in his usual, dry mood.
“But still! After that, everything should be easy, right?”
“Why do you think that?” Van asked.
“Because we’ll have a God on our side!”
“We already have TWO Gods on our side.” Van laughed.
“No. But this time we’ll have a God at full power and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Alfred nodded, also smiling. “Yes. I imagine it would have to be easier after that.”
/Says the mortals who won’t have to -worry- anymore. / Kreole grumbled.
The taxi drove on.
After ten minutes the vehicle began to slow.
“What’s the delay?” Ashliegh asked.
There was only a small trickle of traffic on the road and the path ahead was green.
The driver didn’t reply. He pulled the car to a stop and started to get out.
/I sense magic. / Kreole growled.
“Not now… not when we’re so close.” Alfred groaned. He started to unbuckle his seatbelt. He knew it had been a bad idea to get into a car again.
“What the fire is going on?” Ashliegh asked, she was smart however, and began to follow suit.
Van was having trouble pulling his belt off. The human hissed through his teeth, shoving at the button with slight desperation.
The driver was doing something very strange in the middle of the street. He looked like he was fighting something invisible. His arms flailed crazily, as if he were possessed.
The three of them finally got out of the car, Alfred in the lead.
Outside there was no sound. The driver suddenly spun around, Alfred yelped. The man’s face had been scratched off. Bits of eye and blood and snot trickled noiselessly down his features. The driver’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Alfred stumbled back into Van’s body.
/Oh shit…/ Kreole whispered.
“RUN! RUN INTO THE TEMPLE! NOW! HURRY!” Van shoved Alfred off him and in the general direction of the temple. It was Drawin’s voice that spoke.
Alfred glanced back at the brunette. “What is it?”
“I’ll hold him off! Just go!” Drawin hissed.
/I’ll take us there. / Kreole spoke as he slipped into control of Alfred’s body.
They turned down the street and began to run at full-pelt.
/What is it? / Alfred asked frantically.
/Resh. I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it! Why? What the fire is it all about? / Kreole said.
/Wait, Resh… as in the Chaos bringer? But I thought he was your ally? I didn’t see anyone there… /
/The only thing that kills like that is Resh’s avatar! He was, in exchange for a night of my company, he hid Drawin’s body for me, what I don’t understand is what the hell he is doing attacking us. Resh is in control of the other Gods while Sen is in the earth. Why would he be attacking us? You cannot control Resh! /
/Wait… isn’t this whole thing about you upsetting the balance between the Gods? /
Kreole must have had a very good memory because he turned the correct direction at the end of the road and just kept running. It was almost like he was running for his life. Well, not his life; Alfred’s.
“OF COURSE! HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?!” Kreole yelled.
/What? /
/If I come back Sen will rise from the earth and Resh will lose his position as head of the Gods. Resh would rather see me sleep forever than let that happen. That power mongering asshole! /
The temple bowed before them. Its ancient, aged stone columns were heavily inscribed with the writings of millennia and worship long past. The temple itself was a grand establishment of stone and magic. It had never diminished with age, although many restorations and additions had been added to it. The temple sparkled in the morning sun. It might have been enchantment, but it was still very beautiful.
There was no toll to go into the temple, and even though there had been few other people on the streets everywhere else, here there was a massive crowd.
“We don’t have the time to go through the maze and the guards of the temple to get to my body, I am going to teleport us directly to my body.”
/If you could teleport, why didn’t you do it before? /
“Too far to travel I can barely make it to the chamber from here. The spell will leave me almost completely drained. You must I repeat, -must- get to my body. Drawin says it is in a crystal chamber. I will teleport to just outside the chamber. Get to my body. We must hurry. Drawin will not be able to hold the avatar for long.”
Alfred would have nodded, but he didn’t have his body.
Kreole rushed up some of the many steps, ignoring the people he knocked over and bumped elbows with.
They reached the last leg of steps with a lot of people yelling at them.
Kreole stopped and held his hands out before him. He began to speak very rapidly in that strange, echoing language he used for magic.
Alfred felt their senses open up. as if they had a second pair of eyes, they fell through the concrete, down deep into the earth. Past worms and chemicals of the city. Then they raced forward, they entered into a massive labyrinth and began to rush through the corridors in what felt like fast forward. Then they hit a massive blackness that Kreole couldn’t see into. The eyes moved back a few feet, to just before the blackness.
Alfred remembered hearing a harsh rushing sound, as though he were very close to a waterfall. And then it had been a lot like falling.
The human opened his eyes; he fell back, against a wall. His senses were dizzy. The wall was wet and clammy to the touch. He was in a dark passage way. The only illumination was something green and glowing ahead of him.
Alfred stumbled, his knees gave out and he was leaning on the ground.
He felt metal under his fingers and pulled something out of the dirt. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a pick. Miners pick?
“Alfred. It’s good to see you again.” A familiar voice spoke.
Alfred looked up, toward the green. Even though his vision swam uneasily, he could still make out the figure.
“Grant?” Alfred gasped.
Grant stepped closer. He was wearing a pair of long black robes with strange symbols carved onto the sleeves. “I didn’t think you’d make it this far. But just in case, he had me go ahead and wait for you.”
“What?” Alfred asked. He staggered to his feet, leaving the pick where it had been for centuries.
“Resh, Alfred. Resh Resh’sen. The Elder God of Chaos and Destruction and darkness. You can’t do go against his will any longer. You’re cute; so cute and vulnerable right now. Don’t worry. I’ll make it hurt as little as possible.” There was a strange light in Grant’s eyes and voice.
“Wait… what? What the fire is going on here. I thought you were trying to help me?” Alfred started. His vision was slowly starting to settle. He couldn’t feel Kreole inside of him, he was on his own.
“Help you? No.” Grant shook his head. “I’ve been sabotaging you from the beginning.”
Grant laughed and held up one hand. “Need a light?” His palm whooshed with a sudden flare of fire.
Alfred swallowed. This wasn’t… good. “So what… now you just kill me?”
Grant shrugged. “It’s unlikely that Kreoloeni will leave your body because we ‘asked him to’. The only other way is to kill him. How many suitable vessels do you think there are in the world. He had to have a virgin, blonde, male and human. I’m sure you being able to speak his language was an awesome bonus.”
Grant was advancing, blocking off the passage-way behind him.
Alfred looked around for a weapon, remembering the pick on the ground. He was fucked. Totally fucked.
The mage snuffed the flame and spoke a few words in a language Alfred didn’t know. The words whispered behind themselves, as though there was a soft echo with each word. It wasn’t the loud-booming echo of Kreole’s magic, but it was almost like an imitation.
White fire sprang up all around Alfred, blocking two tunnels that he hadn’t seen before.
Grant was backing Alfred up, well out of reach of the pick now. The detective actually stepped past the pick, stalking Alfred like a giant cat on the tail of a baby rabbit.
Alfred hit wall and swallowed hard. “Why?”
“They always ask that.” Grant mused. He shrugged. “I guess it’s because I just like money and power. Did you know I could take on all the arch-mages of Savariel -all at the same time- and win? Resh has increased my power so much I could snuff your life in an instant.”
“So why don’t you?” Alfred shied away from one of Grant’s hands. Keep him talking. That was the plan until a better one presented itself.
Grant shrugged again. “I want a kiss, maybe I’ll wait a bit, fuck you against the wall and then kill you. I’m enjoying this -toying with you- Kreoloeni can’t help you. He was stupid to use all his power to teleport. I thought Gods were supposed to be intelligent.”
Alfred felt vaguely used and abused right then. Was he some kind of toy? Grant was just going to throw him against the wall, have his fun and then kill him? What if he resisted? No. The rational side of Alfred knew that a mage could probably do whatever he wanted and stop Alfred resisting easily.
He glanced toward the pick, lying unobtrusively in the dirt. If he could get to it… and do what, then?
If he could get past Grant, and just keep running….
Alfred focused on the mage again. He stepped to the side as quickly as he could and barged the detective.
Grant had been expecting the movement, but obviously not the ferocity behind it. He caught one of Alfred’s arms, even as the blonde shoved past him. A well placed kick into Alfred’s shoulder brought the boy to his knees on the ground.
Alfred yelped in pain, arm bent at a slightly funky angle. A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.
“I don’t think so.” Grant hissed. There were no more smiles and happy chatter about rape.
Alfred hissed through his teeth when his mouth was sealed painfully. It was too much of a betrayal of Van. He didn’t even know why he thought that. Grant had been the first guy he’d been with. Had it been real? Real at all? Looking back on it now, the whole thing felt like a dream. No. Grant had been another dream, just like Kreole. Van was real. Van wasn’t just interested in screwing him.
Alfred bit Grant’s lip as hard as he could and pulled on the hold he was in.
Grant hissed and threw the boy to the ground anyway, nursing a bleeding lip. “What, you think you’re too good for me?”
Where had that come from? Alfred glanced up and saw a wild look in Grant’s eyes. Was Alfred becoming the object of some long hidden rage?
“Well too fucking bad, princess.” Grant’s boot impacted with Alfred’s lower spine.
Pain raced up the blonde’s body, hot enough to make him scream. The burns had healed a little, but the skin was still delicate and -as the blonde had discovered in the shower- ready to bleed if it was irritated.
Alfred tried to squirm his way out from under Grant’s boot, but he was kicked harshly in the side a few times until he couldn’t breathe. Not good.
Grant used the blonde’s hair to pull his head back. “I know your kind; you think you’re so fucking high and mighty. You’re fucking useless in a fight. All your good for is slave material. In the old days, you would have been some rich woman’s plaything.”
Alfred felt a hand tearing at his shirt, pulling on the collar in an effort to tear it. The cloth wouldn’t give for a little while, and only ended up strangling the blonde. Then Grant gave a particularly vicious tug and the fabric tore.
Alfred panicked. He brought a foot up, balancing on his hands in what a martial-artist would have called perfect weight-positioning as his leg came smacking around, heel first into Grant’s jaw. The speed and fact that Alfred’s whole body twisted with the movement was enough to send Grant spinning.
Alfred scrambled to his feet and ran for the pick. He half-fell, half bent over it.
Alfred turned, blackened pick in both hands, eyes wild and frightened. Grant got to his feet slowly, working his jaw with one hand. It looked broken. The mage pointed at Alfred and coughed out a word.
Alfred felt a hand smack him to the ground. He almost imbedded the pick in his own eye, were it not for the speed at which the hand came and went.
Grant was on top of him then, something sharp and small in his hands. Metal glinted in the green light of the tunnel.
They struggled for what seemed like hours. Dirt and sweat covering them both in a motley marriage. Alfred was given strength from his urge to survive and Grant was frenzied in his attack.
One moment Grant would have the upper hand, blade inches from Alfred’s throat or eye; Alfred’s hands white with the effort of holding that arm just away from him. Then the student would roll and be pressing against Grant with the miner’s pick.
Grant was on top this time, dagger inches from Alfred’s neck. Alfred’s sweat-covered hands slipped and the dagger plunged south, and downward.
Alfred felt the tip imbed itself in his stomach. He didn’t have time to think about it, Grant had moved, and left himself open. The blonde raised the pick in a quick- primordial motion- and brought it smacking down into Grant’s head.
The mage howled and fell off Alfred’s body. Giving the blonde just enough time to gasp in a quick burst of surprised, shocked air. The roll had driven the dagger deeper. Something felt like it had been scratched. There were only important somethings in your stomach.
No time to think about that now, Alfred rose on one knee and smashed the pick into Grant’s skull again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again; until the blood began to splatter everywhere, and Alfred felt dizzy from hysteria or fear or bloodloss. He smashed Grant’s brains everywhere until there was nothing left to smash.
And then, shakily, the pick fell from his hands.
Someone was hyperventilating.
It was Alfred.
He was hot and cold and sweating all over. He was alive. He was alive and bleeding. But alive.
Alfred looked down at the wound. It wasn’t bleeding as badly as it should have been. probably because the dagger was still inside of his body.
He touched the hilt; biting back a scream. If he pulled it out… but it had to come out.
Alfred closed his eyes. Closed them so tight he saw stars, and yanked.
There was no explosion and shower of blood. There were a few spurts and then blood began pumping out. The dagger flew across the floor, forgotten and forsaken.
Who knows what made him stay conscious. Left over adrenaline? A self-control of no mere mortal?
He swayed, swayed and felt blood at the back of his throat, in the corners of his mouth.
He staggered toward the green light.
The room was small. Blissfully small. It was almost like a natural gem cavern. The walls glowed green from the center of the room outward. It was a bright, friendly green color. Disorientating as all fire, but nice. The center of the cavern was a green throne. The throne itself was what was giving off the light. Not the body slumped on it.
Alfred staggered-half wild with delirium.
He managed to take two steps into the room, hand reaching for the figure that he could only barely make out. It was like his legs just forgot to stay upright. He stumbled and fell, coughing up blood.
He was going to die. Kreole wasn’t a God of Death. Wasn’t able to bring him back from the dead. He’d die here and now, and it would all be in vain.
/I’m sorry…/ Kreole’s voice whispered.
Alfred coughed some more blood up. He could almost see the body’s feet. So close. So very… very close. Was this how it all ended? Inches away from finally being free? No! Fire and ash. He couldn’t accept it. After all of this? After all of this trauma?
/Don’t…. don’t worry… I know you tried… /
he could feel the pool of blood spreading, under his body. Could feel his heartbeat. So frantic to keep going. His arms were numb.
No! Fire and ash! Sweet water and Resh’sen combined! They’d tried to hard, they’d come so far!
He wasn’t sure how he pulled his feet up. he wasn’t even sure how he stumbled just a few more meters. The world blurred in a fast, frantic whorl. He began to fall again, darkness closing around everything. A sleep he wouldn’t wake up from.
The last thing he remembered was touching flesh.
~Tsuzuku.
Chapter Twenty One: The Guardian.
They were on the street at nine o’clock waiting for their taxi to arrive. Over breakfast Drawin had pinpointed on a map where Kreole’s body had been hidden. It had taken him about ten minutes to find the location because he kept complaining that there had never been so many streets before.
The body had been hidden in the temple of Cilf, Goddess of the Sun. the temple was still standing, even to this day. Which made Alfred wonder how they’d missed the body of a God. Then again, he wasn’t even sure what Kreole’s body would be. Was it something corporeal, that you could touch? Or was it something else?
Their taxi arrived and the three of them bundled in.
“To the temple of Cilf.” Van told the driver.
“Wow. We’re so close, I’m so excited. What about you guys?” Ashliegh rubbed her hands together.
Van shrugged. “It’s only Alfred that’s going to be getting the God out of him. I have to wait.”
Ashliegh laughed. “Don’t be so disheartened. We’re going to meet Kreole. Finally meet him. And find out whose been trying to kill you all.”
“Just because Kreole will have his body back, doesn’t mean that the whole mystery will resolve itself.” Alfred told her.
/No. I think much will be revealed, but not all. /
/Yes. They must know how close we are. If it is truly the work of a God. / Drawin commented in his usual, dry mood.
“But still! After that, everything should be easy, right?”
“Why do you think that?” Van asked.
“Because we’ll have a God on our side!”
“We already have TWO Gods on our side.” Van laughed.
“No. But this time we’ll have a God at full power and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Alfred nodded, also smiling. “Yes. I imagine it would have to be easier after that.”
/Says the mortals who won’t have to -worry- anymore. / Kreole grumbled.
The taxi drove on.
After ten minutes the vehicle began to slow.
“What’s the delay?” Ashliegh asked.
There was only a small trickle of traffic on the road and the path ahead was green.
The driver didn’t reply. He pulled the car to a stop and started to get out.
/I sense magic. / Kreole growled.
“Not now… not when we’re so close.” Alfred groaned. He started to unbuckle his seatbelt. He knew it had been a bad idea to get into a car again.
“What the fire is going on?” Ashliegh asked, she was smart however, and began to follow suit.
Van was having trouble pulling his belt off. The human hissed through his teeth, shoving at the button with slight desperation.
The driver was doing something very strange in the middle of the street. He looked like he was fighting something invisible. His arms flailed crazily, as if he were possessed.
The three of them finally got out of the car, Alfred in the lead.
Outside there was no sound. The driver suddenly spun around, Alfred yelped. The man’s face had been scratched off. Bits of eye and blood and snot trickled noiselessly down his features. The driver’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Alfred stumbled back into Van’s body.
/Oh shit…/ Kreole whispered.
“RUN! RUN INTO THE TEMPLE! NOW! HURRY!” Van shoved Alfred off him and in the general direction of the temple. It was Drawin’s voice that spoke.
Alfred glanced back at the brunette. “What is it?”
“I’ll hold him off! Just go!” Drawin hissed.
/I’ll take us there. / Kreole spoke as he slipped into control of Alfred’s body.
They turned down the street and began to run at full-pelt.
/What is it? / Alfred asked frantically.
/Resh. I can’t believe it. I can’t fucking believe it! Why? What the fire is it all about? / Kreole said.
/Wait, Resh… as in the Chaos bringer? But I thought he was your ally? I didn’t see anyone there… /
/The only thing that kills like that is Resh’s avatar! He was, in exchange for a night of my company, he hid Drawin’s body for me, what I don’t understand is what the hell he is doing attacking us. Resh is in control of the other Gods while Sen is in the earth. Why would he be attacking us? You cannot control Resh! /
/Wait… isn’t this whole thing about you upsetting the balance between the Gods? /
Kreole must have had a very good memory because he turned the correct direction at the end of the road and just kept running. It was almost like he was running for his life. Well, not his life; Alfred’s.
“OF COURSE! HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?!” Kreole yelled.
/What? /
/If I come back Sen will rise from the earth and Resh will lose his position as head of the Gods. Resh would rather see me sleep forever than let that happen. That power mongering asshole! /
The temple bowed before them. Its ancient, aged stone columns were heavily inscribed with the writings of millennia and worship long past. The temple itself was a grand establishment of stone and magic. It had never diminished with age, although many restorations and additions had been added to it. The temple sparkled in the morning sun. It might have been enchantment, but it was still very beautiful.
There was no toll to go into the temple, and even though there had been few other people on the streets everywhere else, here there was a massive crowd.
“We don’t have the time to go through the maze and the guards of the temple to get to my body, I am going to teleport us directly to my body.”
/If you could teleport, why didn’t you do it before? /
“Too far to travel I can barely make it to the chamber from here. The spell will leave me almost completely drained. You must I repeat, -must- get to my body. Drawin says it is in a crystal chamber. I will teleport to just outside the chamber. Get to my body. We must hurry. Drawin will not be able to hold the avatar for long.”
Alfred would have nodded, but he didn’t have his body.
Kreole rushed up some of the many steps, ignoring the people he knocked over and bumped elbows with.
They reached the last leg of steps with a lot of people yelling at them.
Kreole stopped and held his hands out before him. He began to speak very rapidly in that strange, echoing language he used for magic.
Alfred felt their senses open up. as if they had a second pair of eyes, they fell through the concrete, down deep into the earth. Past worms and chemicals of the city. Then they raced forward, they entered into a massive labyrinth and began to rush through the corridors in what felt like fast forward. Then they hit a massive blackness that Kreole couldn’t see into. The eyes moved back a few feet, to just before the blackness.
Alfred remembered hearing a harsh rushing sound, as though he were very close to a waterfall. And then it had been a lot like falling.
The human opened his eyes; he fell back, against a wall. His senses were dizzy. The wall was wet and clammy to the touch. He was in a dark passage way. The only illumination was something green and glowing ahead of him.
Alfred stumbled, his knees gave out and he was leaning on the ground.
He felt metal under his fingers and pulled something out of the dirt. It was hard to tell, but it looked like a pick. Miners pick?
“Alfred. It’s good to see you again.” A familiar voice spoke.
Alfred looked up, toward the green. Even though his vision swam uneasily, he could still make out the figure.
“Grant?” Alfred gasped.
Grant stepped closer. He was wearing a pair of long black robes with strange symbols carved onto the sleeves. “I didn’t think you’d make it this far. But just in case, he had me go ahead and wait for you.”
“What?” Alfred asked. He staggered to his feet, leaving the pick where it had been for centuries.
“Resh, Alfred. Resh Resh’sen. The Elder God of Chaos and Destruction and darkness. You can’t do go against his will any longer. You’re cute; so cute and vulnerable right now. Don’t worry. I’ll make it hurt as little as possible.” There was a strange light in Grant’s eyes and voice.
“Wait… what? What the fire is going on here. I thought you were trying to help me?” Alfred started. His vision was slowly starting to settle. He couldn’t feel Kreole inside of him, he was on his own.
“Help you? No.” Grant shook his head. “I’ve been sabotaging you from the beginning.”
Grant laughed and held up one hand. “Need a light?” His palm whooshed with a sudden flare of fire.
Alfred swallowed. This wasn’t… good. “So what… now you just kill me?”
Grant shrugged. “It’s unlikely that Kreoloeni will leave your body because we ‘asked him to’. The only other way is to kill him. How many suitable vessels do you think there are in the world. He had to have a virgin, blonde, male and human. I’m sure you being able to speak his language was an awesome bonus.”
Grant was advancing, blocking off the passage-way behind him.
Alfred looked around for a weapon, remembering the pick on the ground. He was fucked. Totally fucked.
The mage snuffed the flame and spoke a few words in a language Alfred didn’t know. The words whispered behind themselves, as though there was a soft echo with each word. It wasn’t the loud-booming echo of Kreole’s magic, but it was almost like an imitation.
White fire sprang up all around Alfred, blocking two tunnels that he hadn’t seen before.
Grant was backing Alfred up, well out of reach of the pick now. The detective actually stepped past the pick, stalking Alfred like a giant cat on the tail of a baby rabbit.
Alfred hit wall and swallowed hard. “Why?”
“They always ask that.” Grant mused. He shrugged. “I guess it’s because I just like money and power. Did you know I could take on all the arch-mages of Savariel -all at the same time- and win? Resh has increased my power so much I could snuff your life in an instant.”
“So why don’t you?” Alfred shied away from one of Grant’s hands. Keep him talking. That was the plan until a better one presented itself.
Grant shrugged again. “I want a kiss, maybe I’ll wait a bit, fuck you against the wall and then kill you. I’m enjoying this -toying with you- Kreoloeni can’t help you. He was stupid to use all his power to teleport. I thought Gods were supposed to be intelligent.”
Alfred felt vaguely used and abused right then. Was he some kind of toy? Grant was just going to throw him against the wall, have his fun and then kill him? What if he resisted? No. The rational side of Alfred knew that a mage could probably do whatever he wanted and stop Alfred resisting easily.
He glanced toward the pick, lying unobtrusively in the dirt. If he could get to it… and do what, then?
If he could get past Grant, and just keep running….
Alfred focused on the mage again. He stepped to the side as quickly as he could and barged the detective.
Grant had been expecting the movement, but obviously not the ferocity behind it. He caught one of Alfred’s arms, even as the blonde shoved past him. A well placed kick into Alfred’s shoulder brought the boy to his knees on the ground.
Alfred yelped in pain, arm bent at a slightly funky angle. A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.
“I don’t think so.” Grant hissed. There were no more smiles and happy chatter about rape.
Alfred hissed through his teeth when his mouth was sealed painfully. It was too much of a betrayal of Van. He didn’t even know why he thought that. Grant had been the first guy he’d been with. Had it been real? Real at all? Looking back on it now, the whole thing felt like a dream. No. Grant had been another dream, just like Kreole. Van was real. Van wasn’t just interested in screwing him.
Alfred bit Grant’s lip as hard as he could and pulled on the hold he was in.
Grant hissed and threw the boy to the ground anyway, nursing a bleeding lip. “What, you think you’re too good for me?”
Where had that come from? Alfred glanced up and saw a wild look in Grant’s eyes. Was Alfred becoming the object of some long hidden rage?
“Well too fucking bad, princess.” Grant’s boot impacted with Alfred’s lower spine.
Pain raced up the blonde’s body, hot enough to make him scream. The burns had healed a little, but the skin was still delicate and -as the blonde had discovered in the shower- ready to bleed if it was irritated.
Alfred tried to squirm his way out from under Grant’s boot, but he was kicked harshly in the side a few times until he couldn’t breathe. Not good.
Grant used the blonde’s hair to pull his head back. “I know your kind; you think you’re so fucking high and mighty. You’re fucking useless in a fight. All your good for is slave material. In the old days, you would have been some rich woman’s plaything.”
Alfred felt a hand tearing at his shirt, pulling on the collar in an effort to tear it. The cloth wouldn’t give for a little while, and only ended up strangling the blonde. Then Grant gave a particularly vicious tug and the fabric tore.
Alfred panicked. He brought a foot up, balancing on his hands in what a martial-artist would have called perfect weight-positioning as his leg came smacking around, heel first into Grant’s jaw. The speed and fact that Alfred’s whole body twisted with the movement was enough to send Grant spinning.
Alfred scrambled to his feet and ran for the pick. He half-fell, half bent over it.
Alfred turned, blackened pick in both hands, eyes wild and frightened. Grant got to his feet slowly, working his jaw with one hand. It looked broken. The mage pointed at Alfred and coughed out a word.
Alfred felt a hand smack him to the ground. He almost imbedded the pick in his own eye, were it not for the speed at which the hand came and went.
Grant was on top of him then, something sharp and small in his hands. Metal glinted in the green light of the tunnel.
They struggled for what seemed like hours. Dirt and sweat covering them both in a motley marriage. Alfred was given strength from his urge to survive and Grant was frenzied in his attack.
One moment Grant would have the upper hand, blade inches from Alfred’s throat or eye; Alfred’s hands white with the effort of holding that arm just away from him. Then the student would roll and be pressing against Grant with the miner’s pick.
Grant was on top this time, dagger inches from Alfred’s neck. Alfred’s sweat-covered hands slipped and the dagger plunged south, and downward.
Alfred felt the tip imbed itself in his stomach. He didn’t have time to think about it, Grant had moved, and left himself open. The blonde raised the pick in a quick- primordial motion- and brought it smacking down into Grant’s head.
The mage howled and fell off Alfred’s body. Giving the blonde just enough time to gasp in a quick burst of surprised, shocked air. The roll had driven the dagger deeper. Something felt like it had been scratched. There were only important somethings in your stomach.
No time to think about that now, Alfred rose on one knee and smashed the pick into Grant’s skull again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again; until the blood began to splatter everywhere, and Alfred felt dizzy from hysteria or fear or bloodloss. He smashed Grant’s brains everywhere until there was nothing left to smash.
And then, shakily, the pick fell from his hands.
Someone was hyperventilating.
It was Alfred.
He was hot and cold and sweating all over. He was alive. He was alive and bleeding. But alive.
Alfred looked down at the wound. It wasn’t bleeding as badly as it should have been. probably because the dagger was still inside of his body.
He touched the hilt; biting back a scream. If he pulled it out… but it had to come out.
Alfred closed his eyes. Closed them so tight he saw stars, and yanked.
There was no explosion and shower of blood. There were a few spurts and then blood began pumping out. The dagger flew across the floor, forgotten and forsaken.
Who knows what made him stay conscious. Left over adrenaline? A self-control of no mere mortal?
He swayed, swayed and felt blood at the back of his throat, in the corners of his mouth.
He staggered toward the green light.
The room was small. Blissfully small. It was almost like a natural gem cavern. The walls glowed green from the center of the room outward. It was a bright, friendly green color. Disorientating as all fire, but nice. The center of the cavern was a green throne. The throne itself was what was giving off the light. Not the body slumped on it.
Alfred staggered-half wild with delirium.
He managed to take two steps into the room, hand reaching for the figure that he could only barely make out. It was like his legs just forgot to stay upright. He stumbled and fell, coughing up blood.
He was going to die. Kreole wasn’t a God of Death. Wasn’t able to bring him back from the dead. He’d die here and now, and it would all be in vain.
/I’m sorry…/ Kreole’s voice whispered.
Alfred coughed some more blood up. He could almost see the body’s feet. So close. So very… very close. Was this how it all ended? Inches away from finally being free? No! Fire and ash. He couldn’t accept it. After all of this? After all of this trauma?
/Don’t…. don’t worry… I know you tried… /
he could feel the pool of blood spreading, under his body. Could feel his heartbeat. So frantic to keep going. His arms were numb.
No! Fire and ash! Sweet water and Resh’sen combined! They’d tried to hard, they’d come so far!
He wasn’t sure how he pulled his feet up. he wasn’t even sure how he stumbled just a few more meters. The world blurred in a fast, frantic whorl. He began to fall again, darkness closing around everything. A sleep he wouldn’t wake up from.
The last thing he remembered was touching flesh.
~Tsuzuku.