AAaaand here's the second section to Part I. If this formats ok, I'll repost Part II ^.^
Archived at: http://www.crosswinds.net/~dilandau/
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: dil1b.txt
** Chapter 5 **
The combatants circled each other. It'd had been a long, grueling
fight, and both of their shirts were sopping; proof of the energy
that had been spent. Swordarms quivered in exhaustion, yet
adrenalin-pumped excitement still shone in both their eyes.
Finally, one of the fighter's patience was lost, and the shining
metal blades clanged together once again.
Thrust, parry, thrust, parry. Hack downwards blocked by a swing
upwards. Foot swing out from the opposite side, cracked aside
by one leather encased arm. Slice to the head missed by mere hairs
due to a quick roll forward. Spring to the feet, sword swung to
one side to parry a followup. Swinging sword to knees, jump
upwards to avoid. Back onto both pairs of feet, thrust, parry,
thrust, parry. Stronger of the two pushing the weaker back, metal
cross inches away from sweating faces. Neither looking away from
the other's eyes, the weaker baring teeth in strain.
"C'mon Celena," Gaddes grinned, leaning pursed lips forwad,
"give me a kiss!"
Celena's lips thinned in irritation. Gaddes' eyes suddenly went
wide in shock and pain, and his sword dropped to her feet. A few
seconds later he was down on the ground, clutching a bruised
manhood.
"Now that's not very fair," groaned Gaddes.
They had been practising swordmanship since a few months after her
homecoming. He had caught her completely by accident, wearing a
pair of pants borrowed from a pageboy and a blouse of her own,
swinging a sword around in the middle of a small clearing in the
nearby forests. Upon the vanquish of some shadowy opponent, she
had posed in a knight's salute undoubtedly picked up from
observing her brother. He appluaded, genuinely impressed. She had
jumped, dropping the sword from nerveless fingers, and began to
plead for him not to let Allen know what she had been doing. His
first concern was that she had resorted to thievary in securing
the blade. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be one from
Allen's training, which she had known the location of even before
her absence. The blade was chipped and the hilt had been swiftly
repaired with tree sap glue and some strong, light rope.
Gaddes recognized talent when he saw it, and there was no reason
to let this one slip by, girl or no girl. Although he realized he
was witnessing another one of Dilandau's talents having slipped
through to Celena, he couldn't resist the temptation. Scampering
around behind the boss' back was a boyish thrill, and Celena
promised to be an eager opponent.
Although she hesitated at first, the deal was set, and they met
once a week after that, always in the same spot at the same time.
At first, Gaddes spent time watching her adjust to her weaker,
clumsier female frame. Many of the mock fights ended with her on
the floor, ankle twisted from some root or rock her foot had
managed to catch, and Gaddes' sword pointed at her throat. After
several weeks of such training, however, Celena's (Dilandau's?)
peak form had asserted itself. Gaddes now found himself
frequently facing the blunted point of Celena's chipped blade
from some awkward position in the dirt, her smirk on the other end.
There were times, Gaddes felt, that the endeavor had become too
risky even for him. Dilandau's fighting style was undeniably
dirty. Celena had no qualms about kicking him when he was down,
slicing at his unguarded backside, or striking those places that
an honorable knight (or in this case, a fellow man) would have
never dared. Although Celena would apologize profusely afterwards,
it still left an uncomfortable question dangling over Gaddes'
head, especially after Allen's continued suspicions and recent
revelations concerning Celena's alterego.
Would he find himself one day facing Dilandau, rather than Celena?
"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Celena was pulling his arm, trying to get
him to stand. The sharp pain had reduced itself to a dull
throbbing, and Gaddes allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
While he regained his composure, Celena began to go through some
elementary noble-style fencing moves that he had shown her the
week before.
"I'm just so nervous," she quipped. "Going to the capital, meeting
the king, seeing everything!"
Gaddes leaned on a treetrunk, smearing sweat on his brow with his
sleeve. "Why are you so excited, little hermit? You know there'll
be all those people there."
Celena frowned, freezing in a customary attack position. Her sword
quivered in front of her, free hand wavering up near perspiration
moist locks. "I don't know," she confessed. "Something inside of
me really wants to go. And I haven't seen the King since, you know,
the war. Don't you think he might look different?"
"The King, eh?"
She dropped her position to throw him a confused look. "What?"
"Have you been harboring a little crush on him all this time?"
"What!" she cried, voice sharpening with indignation.
"I see," nodded Gaddes, an amused grin decorating his unshaven
maw. "So THAT would be why you're so bent on going!"
"That's not true!"
Gaddes walked up and pinched her on the cheek. "Then why are you
blushing?"
He expected a slap, or even another knee to the groin. To his
surprise, and his dismay, Celena's response was far more deadly.
A snarl rippled from lips curled to bare slightly pointed canines.
Her sword swung from her right side, the worn handle grasped in
two delicate hands, and hacked downwards. Fortunately, he hadn't
sheathed his sword, and a blade aimed to split his skull was
deflected effectively if awkwardly. The ensuing conflict was
completely different than any of the others they'd had before.
Blows that would have been cautiously deflected in such unarmoured
sparring were not, and her precision was uncanny. Slices to the
jugular, stabs to the heart, swings meant to open his belly and
spill his innards on the ground were all dodged or blocked, but he
was weary, and he found himself forced onto the defensive.
Celena, on the other hand, fought as if fresh. She swung and
stabbed, consistently on the offensive, whacking away any attempts
by Gaddes to be so. Eyes narrowed by a rage entirely
uncharacteristic of the cheerful, childish Celena was complimented
by a mouth distorted by the same emotion.
Gaddes tripped, whispering an obscenity.
Down on his knees he went. The chipped and worn blade came flying
down, and their blades met in another cross, only this time it was
Celena who held the superior position. Gaddes' arms quivered. He
grunted with the effort of holding her back, surprised that her
small frame could exert so much pressure. The menacing glint off
his own blade forced him to look to one side.
"Enough already," he growled. "Let me up! It was a joke!"
Dilandau snickered.
Gaddes' breath caught in his throat. He peered through the
stabbing light reflecting off his sword. Celena's mouth had
stretched in a wide, maddening grin, her narrowed eyes burning
with the thrill of the upcoming kill. The snickering escalated
into a shrill mocking laugh. It was sung with Celena's high tone,
but with none of her gentle demeanor. Replacing her normal bright
color was something dark, cruel, and sadistic.
"Van." The name came like poison from her tongue, spat it out
with all the hatred that could be mustered. "I will show you what
I think of -Van-."
Celena's sword came up in a stroke that Gaddes knew his twisted
ankle and worn muscles could not dodge completely. Perhaps, he
thought, sword flying back to try and meet the blow, he could get
away maimed instead of dead.
Then Celena screeched out a cry of indignation. Gaddes caught a
glimpse of flowing blonde hair through the sweat dripping into
his eyes.
Allen gripped Celena's sword hand tightly around the wrist,
pressing against nerves and ligaments until the blade fell. His
free hand gripped the other wrist, twisting it behind her
viciously. Celena, in the meantime, spat obscenities, trying to
kick out backwards at whatever part of her brother's body was
closest. Nothing connected, as Allen danced out of the way of the
uncontrolled attacks.
"Yield!" he barked, pretzeling Celena's arms into a more painful
and maneuverable position. A feminine, frightened cry of pain
burst from her lips. Allen recognized the nature of the noise
and released her.
Celena staggered forward, wrists bearing red marks from her
brother's fingers. She clutched her head, and fell over some
roots. Fingers tightly gripped silvery locks, while her throat
wrenched out an ear-splitting scream that sent shivers running
down both men's spines. Allen rushed forward, and gently gathered
her curled up form to his chest. Upon being cradled, her body
collapsed, the strings cut. Allen's head bowed over his sister's
for a moment, his arms folding over her protectively, then rose.
He peered angrily at the Crusade First Officer.
"I'm in deep shit," Gaddes mumbled, "aren't I?"
** Chapter 6 **
The room was uncomfortably silent. Celena, whom Eliste (long
experienced at handling noblemen and women unconscious after
stumbling home from late parties) had bathed and dressed, now
lay pale but calm, almost buried within the soft folds of her bed.
At her side sat her brother, fingers interlocked, elbows on his
knees, and eyes closed. Furrowed eyebrows revealed his agitation.
Leaning against her dresser was Gaddes, still in the same dirty
state he'd been in the forest several hours before. He drummed
his fingers on the polished wood, head bowed.
"Look boss, I'm really sor--"
"Don't be," growled Allen.
"I really didn't know this was gonna hap--"
"You should have thought a little more, then."
Gaddes resumed drumming his fingers. "How did you know we were
there?"
Allen's eyes opened and slid over to his First Officer. "You go
to the same place at the same time on the same day every week.
Someone would notice."
There was no arguing that. Gaddes cursed silently and scratched
his head, made itchy by unwashed sweat. "Well, why didn't you
stop us beforehand?"
Eyes closed once more, and a sigh pushed out Allen's first
sentence. "I don't think I was thinking. All I wanted was for
Celena to be happy." He slid his palm to his eyes and leaned
into it. "I watched her from behind a tree at a safe distance.
Gods, when she hit the shadows..." He swallowed. "When she got
back into the light it was Celena again, smiling. I couldn't make
her stop doing something that obviously she enjoyed. I thought it
might make her run away from me again."
Allen glanced at his sister. Celena, even prior to her abduction,
always had this dreadful habit of turning tail and running when
confronted with options that she didn't agree to. Just like the
dress incident two weeks before, she would eventually return to
grudgingly accept the terms. Every time she fled, Allen's mind's
eye kept seeing a far younger Celena, racing down the fields while
he chased afterwards. Somehow she'd keep ahead of him, and while
she did she was fading away... disappearing... another loved one
falling out of his life...
"Shit." Gaddes walked over to the opposite side of the bed and
kneeled down. "Those Zaibach bastards."
Allen brushed at stray locks of Celena's hair. "It's getting
worse, isn't it?" he whispered.
Celena stirred, looked blearily at her brother. She croaked,
"Allen?"
Allen smiled at her. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired." Celena sighed and curled up under the comforter.
"Do you know what happened?"
Celena's eyes went wide with fright. She nodded slightly. She
buried herself under the comforter. "Are we in trouble?"
"No, Celena." Allen lifted the comforter off her head. "However,
we do need to decide what to do now."
"What? Are you going to ground me for stealing your sword?"
Allen's hand gently grasped the bottom of her chin. "Celena,
there's no use hiding it anymore. I know you're still very...
sick."
Celena sat up slowly, blinking questioningly at her brother.
"What do you mean, sick?"
"He means, little lady," inserted Gaddes, "that whatever those
shitheaded Zaibach Madoushi did to you is still messing with your
system."
"I feel fine," she grumbled. "Nothing to worry. Remember? I'm
still Celena." She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her
arms around them.
"Celena would not have acted the way you did earlier today," Allen
remarked quietly.
Celena waved a hand. "I was just...upset because you were teasing
me, that's all." The two men exchanged glances. "What? You don't
believe me? Look! Van Van Van. I like Van. See? Nothing."
"It's a concern," Allen continued. "These sickness spells of
yours. That incident today. It's obvious specific things are
triggering it now. What will happen when you see Van in person?"
She frowned and pulled at a few of her curly locks. "You mean
you don't want me causing a public spectacle. Exposing myself."
She wailed, lifting the covers back over her head, "Let them find
out already! Then at least they can start belittling me in my
face than behind my back."
Gaddes folded his arms. "Tell the truth, boss, if we don't bring
her it'll just raise more suspicions."
Allen sighed. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his
hair. "All right. You can still come to the ceremony, Celena.
Provided," he added, "nothing like this happens in the next week.
But when we get home, I'm sending a courier to Zaibach for help."
Celena cringed. Neither her (nor Dilandau) relished the thought
of being inspected once again by Zaibach sorcerers. Within her
still lingered pre-Dilandau memories of being strapped to tables,
inserted with medications, or being locked into chambers of gas
or liquid. Although her natural instincts had buried any specific
images, she could still recall feeling terrified, confused, and,
most of all, lonely. However, the alternative, living the rest of
her life in such a state, battling dominance with Dilandau every
day (what if it became every hour? every minute?) was far worse.
"When the Madoushi comes," she finally whispered, "will you stay
with me?" Not be away, she added to herself. Not like before.
"Of course, Celena," he responded softly. He leaned into the bed
and gathered her into his arms. Gaddes quietly left the room,
while Celena began to sob into her brother's sleeves. Allen's eyes
teared slightly. There was no telling what horrid procedures the
Madoushi had used the first time around to alter her fate, but
there was unfortunately no one else with such information. He
held her as close as possible, relishing the feel of having his
sister once again with him, heart pounding with the fear that he
may be losing her once again.
"I'll be there this time for you."
** Chapter 7 **
She walked down the hallway, boots clacking on the stone floor. The
news awaiting her commander was not entirely unpleasant, nor
would it be unexpected, but she wasn't thrilled about meeting
his response.
The hallway opened into her commander's sitting room, where he was
draped onto a throne-like chair. By his wide, staring eyes and the
mechanical way the tip of his fingers scraped along the chair's
backside, she surmised that this was one report she wished she
could have passed along to someone else. She snapped to attention
and saluted.
/ What is this? What am I doing here? /
"What is it?" growled the impatient figure.
"Sir!" she kneeled to the ground, fist over her heart. "I am sorry
to report, Commander..." Report? What was she here to report?
"Well? Hurry up!" The commander swung his legs over the side of his
chair and stood. His footsteps echoed through the chamber,
crescendoing as they approached. It paused in front of her, the
tips of the boots barely within her peripheral vision.
"I...I...the Madoushi..." She was bewildered. Hoping for some
answers, she looked up.
Her own face leered down at her.
Leather-encased knuckles, colored as if dipped in blood, cracked
into her right cheek bone. She fell to the floor with a cry.
Immediately she tried to get back up, enraged that anyone would
strike her so, and was felled by a kick to the abdomen. She curled
up into a ball, coughing.
Her "commander" reached down and hauled her up by the front of her
uniform. "Celena, Ce-le-na," he said, drawing out each syllable as
if relishing the bitter taste of it. He brought her to her feet by
the front of her uniform. The distance between them was such that
had she leaned forward, their lips would have met. Instead, she
recoiled, and began pounding on his shoulders and arms, demanding
that he release her. None seemed to have any effect. He shook her
violently until she stopped.
"You're letting your foolish brother bring in those sorcerers?"
Dilandau screamed, emphasizing his question with another shake.
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely, "to be rid of you. So I can forget
that I ever became you!" Her voice rose. "You're vile, horrid!
Leave me alone! I never want to be you again!"
Dilandau barked out an obscenity and shoved her. She stumbled
backwards into his audience chair, landing hard onto the stone.
Celena tried to get up, her fear motivating her to move, despite
the stabbing pain that began at her tailbone and was edging its
way down her legs. Dilandau was there even before she'd had the
chance to take a single step, one hand pinning one of hers to the
chair, the fingers of the other wrapped around her neck.
"Running away." He giggled, whispering the phrase twice more,
tightening the grip around her neck. "It's all you're good for.
Running. Running from Eliste, from Allen, from Jajuka." The giggle
escalated, becoming a full fledged maniacal laugh. "But you can't
run away from me! Because you were me, Celena, no matter how much
you want to forget!"
Both hands moved to crush her larynx. She gasped and tried pulling
at his wrists. Kicking had no effect, and the effort only seemed
to increase Dilandau's elation at her expense. His laughing visage
began fading away...
Celena awoke, bolting upright to a sitting position. For some
reason, she discovered she still couldn't breathe. The panic only
rose when she discovered that her own hands were at her throat.
She shakingly removed her fingers from her larynx. Bent over her
covers, she tried to refill her lungs with minimal noise. She
bit her knuckles, hard enough that her teeth pierced the skin. A
small trickle of blood raced down her hand as her eyes widened
with horror, sweat soaking her thin nightgown. She hadn't been
sitting in Dilandau's shoes this time. She'd been facing Dilandau,
speaking to him, while he shoved her, hurt her, tried to kill her.
Fleetingly, she told herself that seeing his memories, however
horrific, were far more preferable.
Something mocked her, chuckling for her ears alone. A searing
flash tore through the back of her eyes and ripped through her
head. Celena gripped her comforter tight enough to make her fists
turn white, and ground her teeth together. It was all she could
do to keep from screaming.
"If you want them, you can have them."