Fic - Saiyuki: A Newly Beating Heart, Chapter Fourteen
Fandom: Saiyuki
Theme: Fantasy AU
Title: A Newly Beating Heart, Chapter 14
Author/Artist:
kirathaune
Warnings: violence, This chapter is R, overall story is NC-17.
Pairing(s): Sanzo/Goku
Summary: Xandrian, H'rit and Gerren find Nikolon Jant, but not the way they originally intended.
Notes: Wow, it's been two years since I posted the last chapter to this. RL can wreak havoc sometimes! I'm glad this challenge gave me the opportunity to get this puppy kick-started again. Points to SANZO.
The previous chapter is here.
Xandrian returned to consciousness with a gasp when the activating charm was ripped from his cheek, taking some fine hairs with it.
“Well, look what we have here; another young man who is supposed to be dead. I set that little trap intending to discourage the bears, but this morning it has yielded an interesting assortment of new … guests.”
Xandrian’s face stung where the charm had been, and he tried to focus watery eyes on his surroundings. He saw a high, vaulted wood ceiling, walls of gray, rough-hewn stone, and a flagstone floor that was littered with debris. A fire crackled and popped in an iron stand that stood in the center of the room. He tried to move his arms and heard the clanking of chains just before he felt the press of the manacles around his wrists.
“Do you keep all your guests in the dungeon?” Xandrian asked, hating how shaky his voice sounded. He coughed. “How cliché, Nikolon.”
Laughter rang through the room. “Ah, smart-mouthed as ever. Sorry to disappoint, dear boy, but this charming chateau doesn’t sport a dungeon. Too much bedrock. What it does have is lovely, thick stone walls and no outward-facing windows-well, except for those archer-slits way up there.” A pale, thin hand waved toward the ceiling, where Xandrian saw a series of narrow, vertical slits in what he assumed was the outside wall. A dilapidated wooden walkway ran the length of the wall just beneath the openings.
Definitely not an escape option, Xandrian thought, eyeing the rickety structure. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Xandrian saw that the room had once been a great hall; the tattered remnants of tapestries dangled from hooks on several of the walls, and large, wrought-iron rings hung from the ceiling, covered with years’ worth of candle drippings. He glanced above his head and saw that the eye-bolt that held his chains was a fairly new addition to the room, and then he leveled his gaze and quickly looked for his companions. H’rit was similarly shackled about ten feet away from him on the same wall, and Gerren was chained, spread-eagle, to the wall opposite them. Both were still unconscious.
Jomm was nowhere to be seen, and Xandrian fervently hoped that the tracker had avoided the trap and was still invisible.
He saw dark shapes moving in the shadows. After a few seconds Xandrian identified them as demons-Na’alak demons, it looked like, and a few Q’qrs; they were hardy and strong, and stupid enough to be easily bound into service. Na’alaks and Q’qrs were the first demons Xandrian had learned to Bind as a journeyman Epheremist, and he took their appearance as a sign that Nikolon had never advanced to summoning any demons from beyond the Lower Reaches of the the Abysm.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve done much with the place,” Xandrian said, keeping his tone light.
There was the clack of boots on the stone floor, and then Nikolon Jant stepped into Xandrian’s full view, leaning forward so that his haggard face was mere inches from Xandrian’s. “I’ve been a bit busy.”
Xandrian turned his head to avoid the unwashed stench that emanated from the older man. His mouth twisted in disgust. “Yes, you have … you murderous bastard.”
Torchlight glinted off of Nikolon’s spectacles, making the crack in the left lens flare like a fiery spiderweb. “Such language,” he said, tongue clicking with disapproval. “For someone with such a pretty mouth, you’ve always had the most vulgar words come out of it.” He cocked his head at Xandrian. “You were foulmouthed even as a boy; were you trying to mar your beauty with ugly speech?”
There was a grain of truth in Nikolon’s mocking words. Xandrian had learned at a young age that coarse words and a gruff manner deflected most would-be admirers, and over the years his manner had simply become part of him. He shrugged; he wasn’t here to discuss his demeanor. “You have my books,” he said.
“I do. You were supposed to be dead.”
“I’m not.”
“Obviously.”
“We have a problem, then.”
Nikolon laughed again. “You might have a problem, seeing as you’re shackled to my wall.”
Xandrian watched as the other mage walked over to what was once a long banquet table, and he felt a surge of both relief and rage when he saw several piles of hand-bound books.
“Your being alive explains why all these books did not act Masterless,” Nikolon said, and he picked up one of the worn tomes. “Homis’ books have been especially difficult, so I assumed he had Banned me and possibly cast other spells to keep me out. I suppose that yesterday you Banned me too-you and Whats-his-name over there, I don’t recall his name.”
Xandrian nodded; he wasn’t going to offer H’rit’s name.
“Shuren didn’t Ban me … and I was able to get into his books until yesterday, even though I couldn’t claim them as mine.” Nikolon picked up one of the Talismanist books. “You felt them, didn’t you? You’re his Heir.”
Xandrian nodded again, defiantly this time.
“And you Banned me from them, didn’t you, brat?”
“As soon as I realized they were mine,” Xandrian said, a sneer curling his upper lip.
Nikolon set the book down next to its fellows. “I find it interesting that Shuren made an ex-apprentice his Heir. The rumors must be true then, that you were lovers; he probably wasn’t happy when you went back to Homis.”
Xandrian said nothing. Shuren hadn’t been happy at all, which had made it all the more surprising to discover that he had inherited Shuren’s books. He wondered when Shuren had named him Heir; it was over six years since he’d left to become Homis’ journeyman.
“Apparently Shuren continued to have a thing for pretty blonds after you returned to Homis,” Nikolon said, interrupting Xandrian’s thoughts. “His latest apprentice was sixteen and blond, and Shuren was in the middle of fucking him when I dropped by a few weeks ago. You can imagine my surprise when Shuren’s books did not become Masterless after I killed them both.” Nikolon ran a finger along the hand-tied binding of the top book. “How unexpectedly romantic, that he made you his Heir even after you left him.”
He walked over to Xandrian and gripped his chin, yanking Xandrian’s face toward the firelight. “What is it about you, that they both loved you so?”
"Homis never touched me that way, you filthy pervert!”
"But Shuren did, didn’t he?” Nikolon said with a leer, and then he released him. His smile faded to a hard, grim line. “I lost Homis when he found you, all those years ago." Nikolon reached over and fingered some of Xandrian's hair. "You were a golden-haired treasure that he found bawling in the road by the banks of the River Xan, the lone survivor of a bandit attack. A beautiful little boy who at four years old already manifested a strong magegift, even if he couldn’t remember his own name."
He began to pace. “For six years I had to share him with you. Six years of only fucking while you were at lessons, or when he was sure you were asleep-did you know that I used to live there, with him? Not after you came, though; I had to find other quarters. And you constantly distracted our studies, asking him to show you this and that-which he did, of course-while I was trying to get him to show me the more powerful spells.”
Nikolon stopped in the center of the room, clenching his hands tightly. “I thought when you left to apprentice for your Knots that we could return to normal; we could go back to how things were. But even though I was allowed to move back in with him, he began to change. He increasingly resisted teaching me the Yin spells, and wanted me to learn things at a slower pace. Even when you were gone, you were still in my way-he was constantly meeting with your masters, discussing your progress and wanting them to advance you further. You could advance, but I could not.”
He strode over and fisted the front of Xandrian’s jerkin. "He was MINE!" he screamed. "Mine! And his spells were supposed to be mine! But instead, he denied me, told me he would teach me no further, and then he said that he had asked you to be his journeyman and was making you his Heir.” He spat in Xandrian's face. "You took him from me! You stole that magic from me!”
"I took nothing," Xandrian said, ignoring the spittle that ran down his cheek. "It was your greed and impatience, and that twisted black heart of yours that cost you his love."
“Xandrian?”
Both men turned to look at H’rit, who was awake and looking around at his surroundings.
H’rit stared at Nikolon. “Nikolon Jant,” he said, spitting out the name like a curse.
“At your service.” Nikolon swept into a low bow, and then he straightened up and peered at H’rit. “Ah, I remember your name now … H’rit, Kanera’s bed-toy. Another student saved by a too-loving, too-clever master.” He gestured over at Gerren. “I assume this is your servant and guide,” he said, “because I can’t imagine either one of you Collegium-bred brats being able to manage such a trip on your own.” Nikolon turned and barked a guttural word to the group of Na’alaks that stood by the hall’s broken door, and one of them approached and waited expectantly. “Go, wake him.”
The creature hesitated, his protruding yellow eyes darting over to Gerren’s unconscious form and then back to Nikolon.
“Obey me!” Nikolon back-handed the beast, who cringed and hissed at him.
The demon shuffled over to where Gerren was chained and hesitated again, his leathery snout raised as he sniffed at Gerren’s hair. Nostrils dilated, and the creature’s mouth dropped open, much like a cat who has caught another animal’s scent. He cocked a shaggy head and sniffed again, and then he whined and took a step back.
Xandrian held his breath, suddenly grateful that Gerren had insisted on being transformed; the Na’alak would most certainly have seen-and smelled-right through an illusion. But this creature was only catching hints of Gerren’s true nature, and was too dull-witted to communicate his misgivings.
“What are you doing, idiot? Stop smelling the brat and wake him up.” Nikolon pointed at him, his fingers splayed in a Fire configuration. “Move, or I’ll set fire to your hairy arse.”
The demon grunted and then gave Gerren a hasty shove. When Gerren didn’t respond the creature shoved again, harder, and Gerren’s head lolled and hit the stone wall behind him with a thunk.
“Ow!” Gerren looked up, and he blinked when an attempt to rub his head resulted in the jangling of his chains. “Xandrian? What-” He stopped when he caught sight of the demon that was hovering nervously near him, and his upper lip began to curl in a snarl.
Xandrian coughed loudly to distract him, and then he met Gerren’s wild gaze and gave a quick, sharp shake of his head. “There was no need to wake my servant,” Xandrian said, and he was relieved when Nikolon turned away from Gerren to face him. “I’m the one you need to negotiate with.”
"What can you possibly offer me, little mage?" Nikolon laughed, and then he spread his arms wide and indicated the table. "I have your books."
"Which you will never be able to read, because we have Banned you," Xandrian pointed out. "I offer you your life, in exchange for the return of our books."
"So generous, for a man in chains," the other man mocked. "Never is a long time. I will figure out a way into your books. Or I can just kill you, like I have all the others, and then they will be Masterless. Your Ban will mean nothing then."
Think fast. Xandrian leveled his gaze at Nikolon. “Are you sure about that? H’rit and I could have cast spells of Intent on the books, that if we die without naming heirs they will crumble to dust.” It was a plausible possiblity, one that Xandrian wished they had actually thought of beforehand.
Nikolon’s gaze narrowed. “You’re bluffing,” he said. “You would have to be near the books to do that.”
“Perhaps we did it last night, Nikolon, when we camped in the ruined guardhouse that sits on that high cliff behind the castle,” H’rit said. His chains clanked as he shifted his stance. “Perhaps we did it right after we Banned you.”
Nikolon looked back and forth between the two young mages. “You’re lying-why would either of you allow such a store of knowledge to be lost forever?”
“I would rather have my books crumble to dust than let you read a single word,” Xandrian said. “Do you want to take that risk?”
“I feel the same way,” H’rit said, “so why wouldn’t we safeguard our books the instant we were able to?”
"You recalcitrant fools!” Nikolon’s voice cracked in rage.
"How is that foolish?" H’rit said. "We have kept you from killing us."
Nikolon clenched his fist and then he flicked his fingers at H’rit. “But I can still hurt you.”
Theme: Fantasy AU
Title: A Newly Beating Heart, Chapter 14
Author/Artist:
kirathaune
Warnings: violence, This chapter is R, overall story is NC-17.
Pairing(s): Sanzo/Goku
Summary: Xandrian, H'rit and Gerren find Nikolon Jant, but not the way they originally intended.
Notes: Wow, it's been two years since I posted the last chapter to this. RL can wreak havoc sometimes! I'm glad this challenge gave me the opportunity to get this puppy kick-started again. Points to SANZO.
The previous chapter is here.
Xandrian returned to consciousness with a gasp when the activating charm was ripped from his cheek, taking some fine hairs with it.
“Well, look what we have here; another young man who is supposed to be dead. I set that little trap intending to discourage the bears, but this morning it has yielded an interesting assortment of new … guests.”
Xandrian’s face stung where the charm had been, and he tried to focus watery eyes on his surroundings. He saw a high, vaulted wood ceiling, walls of gray, rough-hewn stone, and a flagstone floor that was littered with debris. A fire crackled and popped in an iron stand that stood in the center of the room. He tried to move his arms and heard the clanking of chains just before he felt the press of the manacles around his wrists.
“Do you keep all your guests in the dungeon?” Xandrian asked, hating how shaky his voice sounded. He coughed. “How cliché, Nikolon.”
Laughter rang through the room. “Ah, smart-mouthed as ever. Sorry to disappoint, dear boy, but this charming chateau doesn’t sport a dungeon. Too much bedrock. What it does have is lovely, thick stone walls and no outward-facing windows-well, except for those archer-slits way up there.” A pale, thin hand waved toward the ceiling, where Xandrian saw a series of narrow, vertical slits in what he assumed was the outside wall. A dilapidated wooden walkway ran the length of the wall just beneath the openings.
Definitely not an escape option, Xandrian thought, eyeing the rickety structure. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Xandrian saw that the room had once been a great hall; the tattered remnants of tapestries dangled from hooks on several of the walls, and large, wrought-iron rings hung from the ceiling, covered with years’ worth of candle drippings. He glanced above his head and saw that the eye-bolt that held his chains was a fairly new addition to the room, and then he leveled his gaze and quickly looked for his companions. H’rit was similarly shackled about ten feet away from him on the same wall, and Gerren was chained, spread-eagle, to the wall opposite them. Both were still unconscious.
Jomm was nowhere to be seen, and Xandrian fervently hoped that the tracker had avoided the trap and was still invisible.
He saw dark shapes moving in the shadows. After a few seconds Xandrian identified them as demons-Na’alak demons, it looked like, and a few Q’qrs; they were hardy and strong, and stupid enough to be easily bound into service. Na’alaks and Q’qrs were the first demons Xandrian had learned to Bind as a journeyman Epheremist, and he took their appearance as a sign that Nikolon had never advanced to summoning any demons from beyond the Lower Reaches of the the Abysm.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve done much with the place,” Xandrian said, keeping his tone light.
There was the clack of boots on the stone floor, and then Nikolon Jant stepped into Xandrian’s full view, leaning forward so that his haggard face was mere inches from Xandrian’s. “I’ve been a bit busy.”
Xandrian turned his head to avoid the unwashed stench that emanated from the older man. His mouth twisted in disgust. “Yes, you have … you murderous bastard.”
Torchlight glinted off of Nikolon’s spectacles, making the crack in the left lens flare like a fiery spiderweb. “Such language,” he said, tongue clicking with disapproval. “For someone with such a pretty mouth, you’ve always had the most vulgar words come out of it.” He cocked his head at Xandrian. “You were foulmouthed even as a boy; were you trying to mar your beauty with ugly speech?”
There was a grain of truth in Nikolon’s mocking words. Xandrian had learned at a young age that coarse words and a gruff manner deflected most would-be admirers, and over the years his manner had simply become part of him. He shrugged; he wasn’t here to discuss his demeanor. “You have my books,” he said.
“I do. You were supposed to be dead.”
“I’m not.”
“Obviously.”
“We have a problem, then.”
Nikolon laughed again. “You might have a problem, seeing as you’re shackled to my wall.”
Xandrian watched as the other mage walked over to what was once a long banquet table, and he felt a surge of both relief and rage when he saw several piles of hand-bound books.
“Your being alive explains why all these books did not act Masterless,” Nikolon said, and he picked up one of the worn tomes. “Homis’ books have been especially difficult, so I assumed he had Banned me and possibly cast other spells to keep me out. I suppose that yesterday you Banned me too-you and Whats-his-name over there, I don’t recall his name.”
Xandrian nodded; he wasn’t going to offer H’rit’s name.
“Shuren didn’t Ban me … and I was able to get into his books until yesterday, even though I couldn’t claim them as mine.” Nikolon picked up one of the Talismanist books. “You felt them, didn’t you? You’re his Heir.”
Xandrian nodded again, defiantly this time.
“And you Banned me from them, didn’t you, brat?”
“As soon as I realized they were mine,” Xandrian said, a sneer curling his upper lip.
Nikolon set the book down next to its fellows. “I find it interesting that Shuren made an ex-apprentice his Heir. The rumors must be true then, that you were lovers; he probably wasn’t happy when you went back to Homis.”
Xandrian said nothing. Shuren hadn’t been happy at all, which had made it all the more surprising to discover that he had inherited Shuren’s books. He wondered when Shuren had named him Heir; it was over six years since he’d left to become Homis’ journeyman.
“Apparently Shuren continued to have a thing for pretty blonds after you returned to Homis,” Nikolon said, interrupting Xandrian’s thoughts. “His latest apprentice was sixteen and blond, and Shuren was in the middle of fucking him when I dropped by a few weeks ago. You can imagine my surprise when Shuren’s books did not become Masterless after I killed them both.” Nikolon ran a finger along the hand-tied binding of the top book. “How unexpectedly romantic, that he made you his Heir even after you left him.”
He walked over to Xandrian and gripped his chin, yanking Xandrian’s face toward the firelight. “What is it about you, that they both loved you so?”
"Homis never touched me that way, you filthy pervert!”
"But Shuren did, didn’t he?” Nikolon said with a leer, and then he released him. His smile faded to a hard, grim line. “I lost Homis when he found you, all those years ago." Nikolon reached over and fingered some of Xandrian's hair. "You were a golden-haired treasure that he found bawling in the road by the banks of the River Xan, the lone survivor of a bandit attack. A beautiful little boy who at four years old already manifested a strong magegift, even if he couldn’t remember his own name."
He began to pace. “For six years I had to share him with you. Six years of only fucking while you were at lessons, or when he was sure you were asleep-did you know that I used to live there, with him? Not after you came, though; I had to find other quarters. And you constantly distracted our studies, asking him to show you this and that-which he did, of course-while I was trying to get him to show me the more powerful spells.”
Nikolon stopped in the center of the room, clenching his hands tightly. “I thought when you left to apprentice for your Knots that we could return to normal; we could go back to how things were. But even though I was allowed to move back in with him, he began to change. He increasingly resisted teaching me the Yin spells, and wanted me to learn things at a slower pace. Even when you were gone, you were still in my way-he was constantly meeting with your masters, discussing your progress and wanting them to advance you further. You could advance, but I could not.”
He strode over and fisted the front of Xandrian’s jerkin. "He was MINE!" he screamed. "Mine! And his spells were supposed to be mine! But instead, he denied me, told me he would teach me no further, and then he said that he had asked you to be his journeyman and was making you his Heir.” He spat in Xandrian's face. "You took him from me! You stole that magic from me!”
"I took nothing," Xandrian said, ignoring the spittle that ran down his cheek. "It was your greed and impatience, and that twisted black heart of yours that cost you his love."
“Xandrian?”
Both men turned to look at H’rit, who was awake and looking around at his surroundings.
H’rit stared at Nikolon. “Nikolon Jant,” he said, spitting out the name like a curse.
“At your service.” Nikolon swept into a low bow, and then he straightened up and peered at H’rit. “Ah, I remember your name now … H’rit, Kanera’s bed-toy. Another student saved by a too-loving, too-clever master.” He gestured over at Gerren. “I assume this is your servant and guide,” he said, “because I can’t imagine either one of you Collegium-bred brats being able to manage such a trip on your own.” Nikolon turned and barked a guttural word to the group of Na’alaks that stood by the hall’s broken door, and one of them approached and waited expectantly. “Go, wake him.”
The creature hesitated, his protruding yellow eyes darting over to Gerren’s unconscious form and then back to Nikolon.
“Obey me!” Nikolon back-handed the beast, who cringed and hissed at him.
The demon shuffled over to where Gerren was chained and hesitated again, his leathery snout raised as he sniffed at Gerren’s hair. Nostrils dilated, and the creature’s mouth dropped open, much like a cat who has caught another animal’s scent. He cocked a shaggy head and sniffed again, and then he whined and took a step back.
Xandrian held his breath, suddenly grateful that Gerren had insisted on being transformed; the Na’alak would most certainly have seen-and smelled-right through an illusion. But this creature was only catching hints of Gerren’s true nature, and was too dull-witted to communicate his misgivings.
“What are you doing, idiot? Stop smelling the brat and wake him up.” Nikolon pointed at him, his fingers splayed in a Fire configuration. “Move, or I’ll set fire to your hairy arse.”
The demon grunted and then gave Gerren a hasty shove. When Gerren didn’t respond the creature shoved again, harder, and Gerren’s head lolled and hit the stone wall behind him with a thunk.
“Ow!” Gerren looked up, and he blinked when an attempt to rub his head resulted in the jangling of his chains. “Xandrian? What-” He stopped when he caught sight of the demon that was hovering nervously near him, and his upper lip began to curl in a snarl.
Xandrian coughed loudly to distract him, and then he met Gerren’s wild gaze and gave a quick, sharp shake of his head. “There was no need to wake my servant,” Xandrian said, and he was relieved when Nikolon turned away from Gerren to face him. “I’m the one you need to negotiate with.”
"What can you possibly offer me, little mage?" Nikolon laughed, and then he spread his arms wide and indicated the table. "I have your books."
"Which you will never be able to read, because we have Banned you," Xandrian pointed out. "I offer you your life, in exchange for the return of our books."
"So generous, for a man in chains," the other man mocked. "Never is a long time. I will figure out a way into your books. Or I can just kill you, like I have all the others, and then they will be Masterless. Your Ban will mean nothing then."
Think fast. Xandrian leveled his gaze at Nikolon. “Are you sure about that? H’rit and I could have cast spells of Intent on the books, that if we die without naming heirs they will crumble to dust.” It was a plausible possiblity, one that Xandrian wished they had actually thought of beforehand.
Nikolon’s gaze narrowed. “You’re bluffing,” he said. “You would have to be near the books to do that.”
“Perhaps we did it last night, Nikolon, when we camped in the ruined guardhouse that sits on that high cliff behind the castle,” H’rit said. His chains clanked as he shifted his stance. “Perhaps we did it right after we Banned you.”
Nikolon looked back and forth between the two young mages. “You’re lying-why would either of you allow such a store of knowledge to be lost forever?”
“I would rather have my books crumble to dust than let you read a single word,” Xandrian said. “Do you want to take that risk?”
“I feel the same way,” H’rit said, “so why wouldn’t we safeguard our books the instant we were able to?”
"You recalcitrant fools!” Nikolon’s voice cracked in rage.
"How is that foolish?" H’rit said. "We have kept you from killing us."
Nikolon clenched his fist and then he flicked his fingers at H’rit. “But I can still hurt you.”