Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 15:

Zongi ran his hand through his currently brown hair and over his face, making sure he got everything right. This body was younger and smaller than he was used to, but he enjoyed the challenge. Enjoyed having a reason to be challenged.
His master had requested a “special” favor of him, and he had leapt at the opportunity and did not regret it for a moment. It had been such a long time since his skills had been required. That he alone could accomplish what those twin sluts together could not.
He smiled as he passed a mirror, trying to get it just right. His master had strange tastes, he decided as he regarded his reflection. Zongi had always preferred demons himself. Had always thought them prettier than humans in ways. However, he had always preferred women too. To each his own. And if this boy was what his master truly wanted... well, he could never deny his master anything.
The demon continued his way down the empty palace corridor. It was rather pathetic that no one had seen him yet. He was not even trying to hide and it was not like he blended in or anything. He could shout or something, but that would be a little too suspicious and he did not want the demon hunters overly cautious when they met.
Zongi sniffed the air briefly, trying to locate where some humans might be. He could smell the distinct scent of demon hunters. Animal sweat, dust, and blood. They were a little too far from the exits for his liking. However, there was another scent that caught is attention.
A child.
An idea. He might not be able to ‘intentionally’ call attention to himself, but that did not mean someone couldn\'t do it for him.

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“I always hatedt mat maze,” Lord Balgus commented as they passed several windows with a clear view of the labyrinth.
Allen smiled slightly.
“Why is that, sir?” Miguel askeakinaking in the view as well.
“It’s a death trap,” the man muttered.
“It’s not that bad. We only lose someone every twenty years or so,” the blonde captain said lightheartedly.
Miguel’s expression turned horrified, and Sora laughed softly.
“Come, come, boy. Surely, in your profession you know far worse ways in which to die,” came a mischievous voice.
The party (minus the Queen, who had other matters to attend to) all turned their attention to the new comer. A dark-haired man with a roguish expression, and robes of white and red walked idly towards them.
“Dryden, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up today,” Allen greeted.
The merchant gave a careless shrug and charming smile.
“I had some inventory to catch up on,’ he explained, then turned his attention to the slayers, ‘I see they have arrived as you said.”
Quickly and subtly, Dryden ran his eyes over each of them, assessing their value like he would a sword of questionable origins. The largest man, obviously Lord Balgus, seemed formidable and wise, as well as annoyed as he realized exactly what the merchant was doing. The apprentice- at least he hoped that was all he was- was a bit flaky, but he woprobprobably grow out of that. The surly group of men behind them, while not the nicest of characters at least had appreciation for what they were doing and remained alert.
And then there was a summoner.
The dark-haired man stood momentarily frozen as he met her cerulean blue eyes. The Lady Sora held his gaze with equal surprise, her lips parted slightly with the sudden intact of breath. For several moments they regarded each other, two strangers sharing the same secret. And then the merchant smiled, not his usual impish grin, but the strange sweet kind that Allen had only glimpsed once before. The white haired woman suddenly smiled at him as well and held out her hand. Dryden accepted it and kissed it, bowing slightly as he did so.
“I am the merchant, Dryden Stefanus,” he introduced himself.
“Sora Le’Femal,” she replied in her quiet voice.
They other hunters watched the exchange with awe and confusion. Lady Sora had never taken an interest in men, and this one certainly seemed to have caught her eye. It made Balgus instantly suspicious.
“So you are the Merchant?” the famous demon hunter demanded.
“I am a merchant, yes,” he replied without breaking his gaze from the ethereal woman.
Allen easily recognized the tone in their voices, and new the situation was heading in a dangerous direction. Sora seemed to realize it too, for she broke eye contact to look demurely out the window. Miguel’s expression was suddenly very cold. The young captain of the Royal Guard quickly took hold of his still dazed friend and began pulling him off to the side.
“Please excuse us for a moment, there is something we need to discuss. I will catch up shortly,” Allen said quickly.
He dragged his friend into an empty corridor, just out of sight and out of hearing of the others. When the prince turned Dryden around, the merchant had that roguish look again.
“Mind telling me what that was about?” he demanded.
“That’s a secret between me, and her ladyship,” the brunette said, grinning happily.
“Hardly. You were practically drooling over her,” Allen muttered.
Dryden smile disappeared for a moment and he stared at the handsome swordsman blankly. After an extremely awkward moment for Allen, the merchant broke out into peels of laughter.
Just around the corner, the hunters all turned at the sound.
Sora giggled behind her hand.
As Drydenaughaughter died off to manageable chuckles and the blonde man was looking very annoyed, the rogue set his lovely one straight.
“I assure you, your highness, that despite Lady Sora’s great many endowments and attributes, she is not my type.”
Allen raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Oh, really? And what, pray tell, is your type?”
Dryden’s whimsical expression, changed in an instant. His amused chocolate eyes darkening and hisn tun turned predatory. Allen stood frozen in place as the man drew closer, breaching his personal space to the point were he could catch the merchant’s unique scent of tea, steel, and spice.
“For one thing,’ Dryden whispered, his breath caressing the other man’s cheek, ‘I prefer blondes.”
Allen gasped in surprise, and being an opportunist, the rogue quickly stole a kiss from his object of seduction. It was brief, barely a peck on the lips really, but it left the swordsman completely stunned. He barely perceived Dryden’s words or even when the man pulled away, stuck in that brief instant their mouths touched.
“We better catch up to your friends now, your Highness,” the merchant reminded him with a seductive lilt to his voice, before disappearing around the corner to rejoin the hunters.
Allen merely blinked and gaped, and would have done so for quite some time if the distant scream of a child had not pulled him back to the present.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chid had been heading towards his room, hoping to catch up on some of his studies. Merle had been moping since Van had said he was leaving, and she had gone off to be alone for a while. The prince was also kind of sad to see the country youth go. Not so much because he would miss him- he hardly knew him after all, but because it seemed a bit anti-climatic and depressing way to end things. However, perhaps his friend would stop acting so strangely and pay more attention to him again with the stranger gone.
He passed several guards on his way, smiling politely to each, until he reached the deserted hallway leading to his room. No one in his family had ever felt particularly comfortably with soldiers just outside their door, and so had always kept them just outside the hallway, where they could see the entrance but not hear anything going on inside.
Just as young prince was prepared to enter his room, a shadow passed over him briefly. He spun around to face who ever he had sensed behind him. There was no one, and that surprised him more than if someone had snuck up on him. Nervously, he scanned the hall for any sign of an intruder, be it human or even one of the few odd creatures that accidentally found their ways into the palace and could not find their way out. Still, there was nothing, not even a hiding place in the empty corridor.
Chid turned to the guards at the end of the hallway, but remained still and staring blankly forward. He felt slightly peeved at them. It had to be obvious that he was distressed, and yet his men had not asked the matter or offered some sort of assistance as was their duty. Indeed, it seemed they were ignoring him altogether.
With one more visual sweep of the hallway, he turned to enter his room, but leapt back in alarm instead. There, standing before him in an unfamiliar red shirt and beige pants, was Van. The little prince blinked stupidly for a moment and then quickly turned his gaze to the guards on either side of the hall. They remained unmoving. Watching them, with their unblinking eyes and perfect stillness, Chid felt sudden fear rise up in him. Reluctantly, he faced the dark young man again, hoping for answers.
“V-Van? W-hat are you- you doing here? You c-could get caught,” he managed to stutter.
The elder boy regarded him curiously, as if not understanding him or even recognizing him. He studied thende nde child, his expression neither friendly nor overtly hostile. Nevertheless, Chid decided Van’s strange behavior was a sign for him to go, and go quickly.
Bolting to the right, the young prince head for the main hall and the nearest soldier. The other boy did not run after him, merely turned and began walking steadily in the same direction. Chid felt another rush of fear glimpsing Van’s leisurely pursuit behind him.
“Guards! Guards!” he cried.
There was no response or even acknowledgement from them. Out of desperation he grabbed one to shake him out of his trance, but the instant he took hold of the man’s uniform, the sentinel keeled over. Chid stared down at the lifeless soldier in pure terror. A brief glimpse behind him, proved the hunter continued his way towards with that same unreadable expression. The blonde child sprinted down the hallway again, passing an entire row of lifeless guards.
“HELP!’ he screamed, not knowing if perhaps he was the only living person left in this place. ‘PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP ME! HELP!”
Behind him, Zongi smiled to himself. Yes, he decided, that should be enough to catch their attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still waiting impatiently inside the labyrinth, Van held idle conversation with Dilandu about inconsequential matters. The demon was stalling, that much the hunter could tell. He was waiting for the right moment to ask his favor. Or perhaps he was just using the time to figure out what favor he would ask for. It was hard to tell such things about Dilandu. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, but his thoughts were carefully concealed.
“Dilandu, what are the Zaguraha like? Do they all look like you?”
The demon prince smirked.
“Hardly. My people are the ruling class of the Zaguraha, and also the most beautiful of the demon races... at least according to bipedal demons. Most of the other demonic races have attractive attributes, usually regarding the shape and the form of the body. In this aspect, humans and the Zaguraha have similar tastes. Come to think of it, only the Liazi find us unattractive. And considering they have beaks, are covered in feathers, and have only three toes their opinion on beauty is not held in high regard,” Dilandu drawled, as if teacher lecturing to his student.
Van chuckled softly.
“And what race are you?”
“I’m Zaibachian, of course.”
“And Folken?”
The albino sneered at the mentioning of his arch nemesis.
“Ch‘. Nothing more than a half breed. His whore of a mother seduced a Zaibachian, and that’s how the little bastard was born,” he spat, his bitterness so rancid it surprised even Van.
The dark haired boy decided to subtly change the subject.
“So if you’re a prince, then your father was king?”
“No, my father \'is\' an Emperor. He rules over several different nations, and one day I shall take his place,” Dilandu stated, daring the mortal to question his resolve.
“I weep for demon races already,” Van said, pretending to be depressed.
The demon prince merely growled and gave him a less than friendly swat on the arm. Van just smiled at him and looked up towards the sky, calculating how long until sunset. The albino watched him and made calculations of his own. As they both sat silently, lost in thought, a gentle breeze came up from the south. The smell of baked goods and flowers drifted on the wind and the country boy enjoyed their familiar scent before the breeze died again. Dilandu, on the other hand, had stiffened where he lay and then sat up, looking earnestly towards the south.
“What is it?” the dark haired boy asked when he noticed his sudden alertness.
“I smell demons.”
Van was on his feet immediately, followed shortly by Dilandu. They scanned their surroundings, but there appeared to be no one at the moment.
“Where? Who? Is it Folken?” the hunter demanded.
“No, not Folken. At least not nearby. The women, I can smell them, but there is another... familiar, but…”
Dilandu’s red eyes suddenly narrowed to slits and he let out an angry snarl. Van watched him, petrified for a moment at the violent mood swing. Reflexively, his hand tightened around Escaflowne. The demon did not notice and started pacing back and forth in agitation, then turned his gaze towards the wall. Before the hunter could order him to stop, the albino had leapt the obstacle and perched himself at the top of it.
“Dilandu, you idiot! You’re going to get us caught!” Van hissed.
The demon disregarded him, choosing instead to scan the grounds. From there he could see the palace and most of the gardens, and without the obstruction of the maze he caught the sounds and smells he had been able to experience from inside the labyrinth. Dilandu turned back to his master, still looking pissed from the ground.
“The soldiers are gone,” he stated.
Van was stunned at first, but quickly grabbed his things and scaled the wall to see for himself. Sure enough, where the guardsmen had previously been were now only a few bits and pieces of equipment and clothing scattered about as if they had left in great haste. The massive garden was deserted, leaving only small animals and insects to fill the silence with their chirps and whistles. The Royal Palace also seemed deserted, though he could not make it out as clearly from his distance.
“Where are they?” he asked the albino, feeling his unease growing.
Dilandu did not look at him when he replied, instead glaring at the palace as if he saw through the walls to beyond it.
“Something is happening. The demon is moving away and there are people pursuing,” he said evenly.
“A distraction?”
Van quickly made another sweep of the garden and the sky. Folken had yet to make a move on him in the light of day, but from what Dilandu had told him it was not unlikely that he would attempt a diurnal attack. It was simply a matter of preference.
“Probably.”
“Then lets take advantage of it before Folken does.”
The youth jumped from the wall to the soft lawn and cautiously scanned the garden again. It still appeared uninhabited, but the place had too many places to hide to make him confident of his assessment. Dilandu landed a short distance from him, but he was still too agitated to be cautious and started stalking off in the general diren ofn of the palace.
“ndu!ndu! What is wrong with you?” Van hissed, peeved by the demon’s recklessness.
“He knows where we are. So, what does it matter if we’re stealthy or not? Damn bastard... I’ll kill him, kill them both. Bastard.” the demon muttered, mostly to himself.
The hunter glanced about again, feeling more and more nervous with Dilandu’s increasingly erratic behavior.
“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to send you back to the sword,” he warned, feeling rather like a mother scolding a repugnant child.
The albino sent him a nasty glare, but stopped stalking about and muttering.
“Now, tell me what is wrong,” the mortal demanded for a third time.
Dilandu opened his mouth, either reply or say something snippety, but was interrupted.
“ Yes, Dilandu, what is wrong? You aren’t being your usual charming self,” the voice of the Strategos said in cruel amusement.
Both boys started at the sudden intrusion and turned sharply to the direction they had just come from. Folken stood confidently under a large saskis tree about ten paces away, patches of shadows and sunlight dancing over his pale features. He was cloaked in black, as usual, but had abstained from wearing his armor or even carrying a sword in favor of comfortable robes similar to what he had seen the merchant Dryden wear. Despite Van’s previous understanding that Folken could and likely would show up during the day, it felt odd seeing him now. The night had always been associated with the tall demon, and the darkness was when he seemed most in his element. Mysterious and frightening. But in the cheerful, sunny garden he did not seem any more threatening than a regular human being.
Well... an extremely tall and pale regular human being.
Dilandu snarled and made to leap for him, his claw-like fingernails ready to attack. Folken regarded him with a bored expression and did not move.
“Dilandu, stop,” Folken commanded softly.
The demon prince was instantly paralyzed. A scant three paces from his enemy with his hand raised to strike at him, he found himself unable to move forward. Behind him, Escaflowne glowed red in Van’s hands, the heat of it nearly forcing the boy to release it in surprise pain. Folken met Dilandu gaze and held it as his dark child struggled to maintain his grip on the demonic blade.
The small Zaibachian, though he did not move a muscle, was clearly struggling, trying to bring motion to his traitorous limbs. The Strategos stepped forward, leaving the shade of saskis tree to stand a mere hands length from the prince. Dilandu struggled even harder, his muscles tensing painfully, but to no avail. A tiny smirk crossed Folken’s face just before he back handed the pale boy savagely across the cheek. Dilandu flew backward, landing heavily on the grass with a muffled moan.
“Dilandu!” Van cried out in alarm.
The young mortal made a move to help him, but Folken was beside the fallen demon in a heart beat, his boot coming to rest precariously on the Zaibachian’s neck. Van stopped, staring fearfully into Folken’s crimson eyes.
“You may as well return him. He will be of no help to you. For while it may be your energy that allows him to stay in this realm, it is my energy signature that allows you to command him. And my commands will always supersede yours,” the Strategos explained.
Van hesitated, reluctant to do anything this man wanted him to. Observing his defiance, Folken’s expression did not change, but his foot pressed down
harder onto his prisoner’s neck. The smaller demon let out a groan of pain.
“Stop it!” the hunter snapped.
Folken complied, releasing Dilandu from underfoot. However, he did not release him from his command, so the Zaibachian remained unmoving on the grass. The Strategos met Van’s gaze again, daring him to challenge the command again.
“Return, Dilandu,” the dark child said softly, grimacing as if it had been painful to say.
His slave and companion disappeared in a poof of pink smoke, and Van dropped the sword. The scorching heat of it had become unbearable, the new blisters formed in his hands evidence of that fact (it had been too warm that day for gloves). The boy kept a careful eye on the Strategos, but the demon had not tried to seize him once he was unarmed and merely stepped back into the shade of the tree.
“I did not come here to fight you, boy,” Folken said evenly.
“You could have fooled me,” the mortal snapped.
“I am unarmed,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean much.”
The demon smiled.
“You flatter me.”
“You flatter yourself,” the boy snapped.
Folken’s smile widened. He truly enjoyed his little one’s stubborn nature. He took a moment to take in the boy’s lithe form, currently clothes in clothes obviously not meant for him. A stark white dress shirt hung from, the collar opening up enough to make out curve of his neck all the way to the elegantly formed collar bone. The black dress slacks were rolled up at the bottom to just above his ankles, to keep him from tripping on the pant legs. He wore no shoes, as they were still soaked from last night and very uncomfortable.
Where had he gotten these clothes? He let out a soft chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Van demanded.
“I was just thinking... I liked your old clothes better.”
The boy stiffened and blushed. He liked his old clothes better too. He let out an annoyed snort to help distract them from the subject of his clothes.
“If you did not come here to fight, what do you want?”
“It just occurred to me that this little game is getting us nowhere, and despite my best efforts to end this quickly, it has just kept carrying on and on. I have concluded that I may simply need to change my tactics,” Folken explained.
“So why are you telling this to me? Aren’t you suppose to keep your tactics secret from your opponent?”
“Normally, this would be true, but this is a very straight forward tactic and very hard to be misinterpreted.”
Van said nothing, but started checking his surroundings. If this new tactic involved demons jumping out of bushes or something, he wanted to be ready.
“Van.”
The young hunter’s eyes snapped back to Folken, who had not moved but demanded his attention. The demon never called him ‘Van’ outside of the dream world.
“I don’t wish to fight you anymore, so I am just going ask you. Van, please return to with me to the castle, willingly. I promise you, I intend no harm to you. I know you will be happy there, if you just give it a chance,” Folken beseeched him.
The young hunter stared at him with obvious shock. No, he supposed, that was not a tactic that could be misinterpreted. But.. he asking him? ASKING?!
“No!’ Van shouted in disbelief, ‘Of course I’m not going to go with you willingly. Do you think I have been running around the whole damn country because I needed the exercise?!”
“Van, listen to me-”
“NO! No! No! As in, the opposite of yes, a statement confirming a negative response, a word of denial, refusal, or dissent. Again, for those who missed it, NO! No, I will not go with you. I will not conveniently forget your ... ‘exploitation’ of my dreams or the way you have been hunting me down like some animal! The scars you have left on my body will NOT spontaneously heal! I will not ignore the fact that you harassed and threatened my native village until they sought to exile me! But most of all, I will NEVER EVER forgive you for the murder of my mother and father!” he screamed.
The steady rage that had been growing in him as he recited his long list of injustices exploded inside of him. Angry beyond logic or caution, he seized up the still scorching Escaflowne and charged his enemy. Unlike Dilandu, Folken had no immediate control over the enraged boy, and found himself dodging as the demonic blade in lodged itself into the tree. Van pulled the double edged sword easily from the soft wood and stuck again, snarling and screaming like a mad man.
The pale demon dodged attack after attack, gradually regaining his composure at his dark child’s sudden outburst. He seized Van’s slender wrist as he tried to bring down his blade again. The irate human retaliated by kicking him in the sides and trying to punch him. Folken easily blocked his punches with his arm, till finally grabbing that wrist as well. The kicks continued, ignored and unrestrained. Snarling and struggling madly, Van bit into his opponents right hand. The Strategos grimaced, but did not release his quarry.
“I hate you!’ the boy screamed, tears streaming down his eyes, ‘I hate you! I hate you…”
His litany of ‘I hate you’s broke down into mere incomprehensible sobs.
Folken remained silent throughout, allowing the youth’s rage and hatred to exhaust itself along with his body. Van continued to struggle in his exhaustion until the hunter finally dropped the ivory sword and hung limply in the Strategos’ powerful grasp. Sensing, the boy’s surrender, Folken pulled him to his chest and wrapped him in his arms. Van tensed, but the demon did nothing except stroke his hair soothingly.
“Van,’ he began, ‘there are certain things I have done to you that I wish had not occurred, but if I had to do them all over again just to stand here and hold you like this, then I would. The death of your father…”
The boy tensed again in his arms.
“... is best discussed at another time. However, as for your mother... Van, she is not dead.”
Folken heard his little one gasp softly then felt him pull back, just enough so they could meet each other’s eyes. His dark child was paler than usual and his eyes were still shiny with tears.
“What?” he asked, his hoarse voice barely audible.
“She is alive. If I had killed her, not that I would have, then the deal between your father and me would have been void. After all, it was your life for hers,” he explained.
“B-but, she was gone. No one could find her.”
“Indeed, and they couldn’t, could they? After all, she is no longer in Fanelia.”
“Bastard! Just tell me where she is! What happened to her?” he demanded, but his voice was too weak give the command its needed strength.
“After you and your father disappeared from the cottage, she went in search of you. She was still disoriented from her injury and nearly mad with fear for you both. Just the same, she managed to find her way through the woods in the dead of night to my forest. And there she remains, like all those who wander into those cursed woods.”
With a surprising show of strength, Van suddenly shoved himself from
Folken’s hold. The boy started pacing about as Dilandu had only a little while ago, only his was more from panic than agitation.
“Oh no, oh no.. no, no, no... Can’t leave her there.. have to get her.. oh no, oh Gods, I left her,” he rambled incoherently.
Folken observed him with a worried expression. Humans had such fragile minds, and Van was already under a great deal of stress. He would have to calm him before he did something foolish. Again he took hold of the boy, who did not resist.
“Relax. Your mother is fine. I found her and took her to the castle. She is well taken care of, though she worries about you,” the Strategos assured him.
Van said nothing nor moved for several moments, just stood there in the strangely comforting grasp of his worst enemy.
“I saw her, I think,” he said finally.
“Hm?”
“In the dream world.. I kept hearing voices behind doors, but I could not open them.. not until the last one. She was crying,” he explained.
“Ah.. Yes, she does cry in her sleep.”
The admission spurred another sob from Van, who buried his face into Folken’s black clad shoulder.
“Shhh... It’s alright,’ the demon crooned soothingly, ‘I will bring you to your mother, and you will come with me. Deal?”
The dark child’s sobs suddenly ceased, and he looked up at him hesitantly.
“What?”
Folken smiled softly, and leaned to take his lips in a gentle kiss.
“Is it deal?” he asked again, then took another kiss.
This kiss was more intense than the last one, warm and passionate and familiar from his dreams. Van allowed it briefly, putting together exactly what was being asked of him. Suddenly, it hit him. He was being asked to make a
deal. With the Strategos.
Hell no.
The pale demon’s only warning was the quickness at which his little one tense. A second later, he was dodging Van’s second blade. Longer than Escaflowne, the Guilavene family sword sliced a shallow cut across his cheek. He stood, stunned and bleeding, as the young hunter roughly wiped the tears from his eye.
“No, Folken. Your deals are poison. I will kill you and free my mother myself,” Van declared, pointing his elongated blade at the demon.
The Strategos regarded him silently for a moment, then smiled softly and nodded.
“That’s why I love you so, Van. Because you are so passionate, despite your gentle nature. So continue your struggle and keep growing stronger. It will only make my victory more sweet,” Folken purred.
A gentle wind came from the north, and the boy witnessed the demon’s slow disintegration into ebony feathers.
“However,’ he continued, even as he began falling apart, ‘I highly suggest you catch up to Zongi, if you ever want to clear your name.”
And he was gone.