Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 20

Van had to fight his way through the palace as he neared the front exit. The soldiers w had had seemed so scarce as of late, suddenly flooded the corridors at the sound of startled servants and rumors of a prisoner’s escape.
The young swordsman made his way through them, more annoyed than afraid, slashing through their weak techniques and obvious hesitance to fight.
The young hunter felt almost disgusted. Peace had made the Austorian soldiers soft and now they were unequipped to do much more than intimidate and in Van’s case slow his retreat.
The fugitive ran the final length of the palace towards the front door. It was guarded, of course. A dozen guards, armed and ready stood before it, waiting confidently for his approach. Van just rolled his eyes and unlocked the nearest window, climbing out into the night air. He jumped over a neatly trimmed hedge and onto the thick green lawn.
There were more soldiers guarding the wall and the gates, but he paid no heed to them. They had already proven themselves ipetepetent. Unsheathing his sword, he charged towards the place where it would be fastest and easiest to climb the wall. He let out his frightening battled cry, but was cut short by the sound of breaking glass.
He froze, than turned and looked up to see the demon, his great black wings spread and sword drawn, leap from a window. Van cursed himself. Folken had not chased after him, but waited for him to show himself before taking a
short cut. Now the boy was more tired than when he had started and the Strategos had not even begun to exert himself.
Folken glided from the broken window, over Van’s head, and landed gracefully between him and the wall. The pale demon turned to face his prey, his expression grim. The young swordsman matched his expression, lifting his Escaflowne in preparation for their battle. It would likely me their last.
“Come back here, you mangy bird, and fight me fair and square!” came Dilandu’s screeching from inside the palace.
Van turned sharply to the broken window again, amazed to find the demon prince there, a bit battered and extremely pissed.
“How? I ordered him back,” the boy asked in disbelief.
“Hn. My authority exceeds yours, and I wanted to play with him for a little longer,” Folken said, grinning arrogantly.
“You sick bastard,” Van growled.
No other words were spoke as they charged one another. The mortal ducked low, attempting to strike from below. The demon dodged easily, but was unable to push his weaker opponent back from his position. Theoke oke away again, colliding an instant later, Van gripping his sword fiercely and feeling its strength seep into his arms. The longer they fought, the stronger he felt himself become.
But the Strategos had more experience.
The more powerful the hunter became, the more techniques Folken used regarding speed and tactics. Attempting to slip through Van’s defenses, and strike his unprotected shoulder and legs. The younger ssmansman dodged the worst of these blows, scrambling back gracelessly.
They danced across the palace lawn, soldiers staring in disbelief and refusing to interfere in the matter. From one of the many windows, Queen Eries looked out upon them and cursed them both. Merle, now supported by Gaddes’ arms, watched from the front door through hazy eyes at the battle almost too drunk to understand what was going on. Chid too observed the struggle, but turned away to go back inside. This scene had become old to him. Elsewhere, Allen raced down the halls trying to locate his missing lover and Dilandu tried to find his way out of palace that did not involve jumping out of a window and breaking his neck.
The two fighters knew none of it. Their entire world now involved only each other and pair of demon swords. Van stumbled backwards again, but Folken refused to relent this time and struck again. The dark child was thrown backwards onto his back. He rolled sideways to avoid the blade, now buried where his shoulder had previously been. Van managed to get onto his knees before the Strategos brought down his sword again, which the boy blocked. He grunted in the strain of supporting the demon’s weight through their swords. He flipped the sword onto its side and brought his other hand to the blunt side to helpbovebove him, Folken grinned and continued to press more and more of his weight upon his weapon,wingwing he would eventually crush his prey into the ground.
Sweat poured from Van’s body, soaking his thin gray clothing. His arm muscles visibly bulged from the intense strain. He could not last long in this position. He closed his eyes, made a brief prayer to Pherowae, and made an extremely leap of faith. Van dropped his arms.
Suddenly deprived of his support, Folken stumbled forward, barely managing to move his sword before it buried itself in the foolish boy’s skull. Noting that he was not dead, the dark-haired boy jumped to the side, rolled, and sprung to his feet. His opponent had managed to catch him and and was standing ready for him again, grinning wickedly.
“That was an unfair trick. If I had wished harm to you or were too surprised to react, you would be dead right now,” Folken chided.
“Shut up and fight,” the boy snapped.
“I am going to have such fun teaching you manners, boy.”
Van roared and charged him again, slashing at him with powerful and furious blows. The Strategos let himself be forced back, noting with some satisfaction that his little one was breathing heavily and erratically. It was almost time to finish this.
Folken dodged unexpectedly, causing Van to fall forward and land gracelessly on his stomach. He sprang to his feet instantly and charged again. The demon fought him briefly, but then dodged again and the boy lost his balance and fell.
“What are you doing? Fight me!” the young swordsman hissed, striking again.
“So be it,’ the albino murmured, and lifted his weapon for a final blow.
Van screamed his savage battled cry and struck out with his sword, forcing all his strength into this one decisive strike. Folken let out a cry of his own, like a thousand night birds calling into the night all at once, and brought down his own silvery blade, red glowing around the black runic symbols engraved into it. Their swords met with a deafening clang.
They were both suddenly blinded and thrown away from each other by the force of it. Van was thrown at least ten paces and landed heavily on his back, the air forced from his lungs. Folken was also thrown, but his massive wings caught the air and helped slowed his fall. He landed on his hands and knees, still momentarily blinded. When his vision cleared enough to make out a general outline of his surroundings, he climbed to his feet and struggled to maintain bae. e. Finally, he oriented himself and turned make sure his little one was all right.
The boy still lay on the ground, struggling for breath and clutching his sword arm. By the way Van held it, the demon assumed it was broken. Mentally, he cringed. He had not been expecting such a violent reaction from their colliding swords. He had heard of instances like this before, when two demons fight so hard the chemical elements in their weapons ignite and cause a small explosion. In Van’s case, it had been pow powerful for his body, resulting in his wrist or arm to fracture, and possibly some bones in his hands. For his part, Folken felt a little numb in his right arm, but it did not really matter. He could fight just as well with his left hand, and his sword seemed relatively unharmed.
The Strategos stalked towards his fallen prey, confidant in his victory. Van still rocked his pain filled body, oblivious to his approachingmy. my. The demon stopped suddenly, looking down at something strange he had stepped on. He kicked the silvery shard with his foot, slightly confused. His expression darkened as he studied the sword fragment. Quickly he scanned the ground for more pieces, finding several of various shapes and sized shining in moonlight. His gaze finally fell upon Escaflowne, or what remained of it. The ivory handle no longer glowed, its magic spent with the shattering of its enchanted blade.
An inkling of fear filled the winged demon.
Dilandu was free.

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Dilandu let out a gasp, collapsing to the floor and withering helplessly. He trembled madly as he felt the magic of Escaflowne being ripped from his body and his old power coloodlooding back into him. It was painful, like pins and needles through his entire body. He could think of nothing but that excruciating feeling and his desire to be rid of it. He had not experienced anything like this since Zongi’s curse.
Gradually, feeling returned his body and the pain faded. He slowly got his feet, still trembling from exertion. He leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what had happened. He could no longer sense Van’s presence through the Escaflowne. But if that was true, than he should have returned automatically to the sword. What did this mean?
He crushed the rising hope in him viciously, refusing to believe after three centuries his freedouldould suddenly just be. He had long given up hope that he could free himself, and highly doubted that either Van or Folken would break the sword to set him free. Folken because he was a bastard, and Van because he was desperate.
Dilandu continued his search for an exit, steadily gaining strength as he went. He followed the faint scent of the young hunter through several halls and a set of stairs. When the main doors came in sight, he noticed there were several people blocking it. They did not seem to notice him, their attentions so focused on something outside they were oblivious to all else. The demon prince looked to his right, amused to find the window open and followed Van’s example by climbing through it.
The little albino could not say he was surprised to find Folken standing
victorious, while his dark-haired companion lay helpless on the ground. Frankly, he could not feel bad for the boy either. The little bastard had left him to his sadistic half-brother after all. However, as he studied the scene more closely he was shocked to see Folken holding Escaflowne, only a small sliver of the blade left protruding from the ivory handle.
Shock faded quickly. Dilandu had been waiting too long for his opportunity for revenge to let it slip from his grasp now. He smiled wickedly, and stalked forward. The Strategos noticed him almost immediately, followed shortly by everyone else. Even Van managed to look towards him, his vision fuzzy and mind disoriented.
“Dilandu,” he whispered, unsure if he should be pleased or not.
“Don’t worry, Van,’ he crooned, ‘I won’t let him take you.”
Folken glared angrily at the arrogant little demon. Did Dilandu truly think he was match for him just because he was free? The fool would soon learn that he was not the weak child he used to torment all those centuries ago.
“Ch’. Don’t be an idiot. After three centuries do you truly believe you are strong enough to defeat me? Your imprisonment has made you weak, in mind as well as body,” the Strategos sneered.
The demon prince just grinned wider.
“Who said anything about fighting you?”
Darting forward with impossible speed, he came before the unmoving Van. Quickly, he seized the youth, ignoring his protest and cries of pain, and flung him over his shoulder. Folken leapt forward, raising his sword. Dilandu extended hlawelawed fingernails and held them to his prisoner’s back.
“Careful. You remember what happened to Zongi,” the smaller demon threatened.
The Strategos immediately froze.
“Dilandu, you bastard, let him go!” came Merle’s high pitched demand.
“Silence! You and your meddlesome mortals are no longer part of this,” he snarled.
The demi-demon cringed and said nothing else. She feared what would happen to Lord Van, whose fate seemed to in the hands of two extremely dangerous and merciless demons.
“I swear, one of these days I am gong to kill you, Dilandu,” Folken hissed.
“Perhaps, but even if you succeed I will have possessed something you were not strong enough or fast enough to take for yourself,” he said.
Having said his part and captured his quarry, Dilandu closed his eyes and silently summoned Nazuco, the fire spirit. Immediately, he and Van were surrounded by a heatless red flame. Nazuco’s dragon-like form rising up from the earth to wrap around them, until they seemed to be absorbed by her. With a deafening roar she sprang into the sky, leaving several amazed humans and an infuriated demon to watch from the ground.
Higher and higher the fire spirit flew until the air became too thin and then bolted in the direction she felt her master indicate. Streaking through the night sky, her orange light a magnificent and frightening sight, she traveled slowly but steadily towards the east.
Towards Zaibach.

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Folken quickly abandoned the palace lawn before any of the soldiers grew brains and tried to kill him. He did not give pursuit to Nazuco and Dilandu. He could not engage battle with the fire spirit in he sky. She might not be fast, but no weapons he currently possessed would be enough to take her down or protect him from her flames.
It did not matter anyway. Dawn was not far away and she would never reach Zaibach before then, or even come close. That meant Folken had some time left to take back what was his.
His only hope was that Van did not do something foolish and provoke Dilandu into killing him. With these dark thoughts in mind, he hastened to prepare himself for the upcoming hunt.

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Nazuco landed as the sky began to turn gray with the approaching dawn. She uncurled her essence from around her master and his slave, burrowing herself back into the earth and away from the sun, to reenergize herself in the molten core of the world.
Dilandu stood where she had left him, holding a barely conscious mortal in his arms. Spirit travel did not seem to agree with Van, and he had closed his eyes and buried his face in his captor’s shoulder, his one good arm holding on to him tightly. The demon had allowed the contact, even encouraged it, as he expected the boy to become comfortable with similar positions very soon.
The pale demon scanned his surroundings. They stood just outside a small village, a row of shallow mountains outlining the background. Dilandu frowned. The lazy spirit had not bothered to drop them off over even one mountain? Tonight he would punish her for such a lack of effort. Did Nazuco think it was fun climbing over an entire mountain range? The first few would be easy, neither too steep or too harsh, but energy sapping none the less. Especially for his captive, who he was definitely not going to carry all the way to Zaibach.
In fact, he was not even going to carry him to the village. He set the boy down, who took a moment to orient himself, clinging to Dilandu with his good arm until his balance returned. Van then pushed himself away, to stand several paces from the demon prince, regarding him warily.
“Thank you. I’m going to go now,” he said bluntly.
Dilandu smirked.
“Oh really? And where precisely do you intend to go?”
Van said nothing, watching his former slave cautiously. He did not know what Dilandu had planned for him. Their previous relationship had been.. strained at times, and previous threats of death and torture came to mind very quickly.
The small albino stalked towards him, his entire body oozing with confidence and danger. Van cringed at his approach, but did not run. You never ran from such creatures, it only encouraged them to chase you. Dilandu stopped just in front of him, lifting a hand to gentle touch the dark child’s cheek and smile almost gently at him.
“Oh, foolish Van. Don’t you get it yet? I am your master now. Your fate is in my hands,’ he said softly, then took his chin harshly between his fingers and brought him roughly closer to his own face, ‘And unlike Folken, I will not hesitate to hurt you in order to drive that lesson home. Do you understand.. Slave?”
Dilandu released his chin to grab the back of his neck, bringing the youth’s lips to his own. He forced his tongue into Van’s mouth, hearing him gasp in surprise, and deciding he enjoyed it. The pale boy ravaged his captive’s mouth thoroughly, showing no mercy as the darker boy tried to struggle away.
Finally, Dilandu released him. Van fell to his knees and stared disbelieving at the ground. He had just been kissed by a demon... other than Folken! Damn fate and its circular pattern! There was just no winning!
Dilandu smiled, and ruffled his new slave’s dark hair with his fingers as if he were a pet who just demanded a good scratch behind the ears.
“Come, Van. We need to gather some supplies, before we head up the mountain, and there is no way I am going to wear this.. thing.. a moment longer,” he drawled.
The demon prince seized Van by the collar of his gray shirt and hauled him to his feet, demonstrated his comparatively greater strength in the process.
The boy got the point, and for the time being he would have to play along. As soon as he found a sword he would fight his captor. To the death if he had to, broken arm or no. There was no way he was resigning himself to slavery.
He followed Dilandu into the village, walking closely behind him. The little town was a bit like Fanelia, with little white houses and overflowing flower gardens. Walking among the quiet houses in the predawn, he felt suddenly homesick. How long had it been since he had left that life behind? Not even a season had passed, but it felt like ages. He had thought he would never want to return to that place, now tainted with memories of death, battle, and betrayal. Now, however, he wished for nothing more than to sit in the town square, eating breakfast and waiting for the butcher to open shop so he could sell him his latest catch.
Instead, Van found himself helping Dilandu steal the laundry off some stranger’s clothes line. The demon prince was obviously disappointed with the simple garments, but they were better than the silly black uniform he was wearing. The albino dressed himself in a crimson tunic that match his eyes, pair of black leggings, and pair of black leather boots that laced all the way to his knees. Van also received some clothes, a dark green tunic with leaf designs sown into it, some brown leggings and boots a bit shorter than Dilandu’s. They each took a simple gray cloak.
“I look like an elf,” Van had commented.
“Only if elves have started butchering their hair like yours since my imprisonment,” the demon thief had said, struggling to getting the green tunic over Van’s head without jarring his arm.
Dilandu had been forced to help Van undress and dress, since he had refused to fix the boy’s broken arm. He would not fix it until they reached the demon city, and he could have the boy properly bound to him. If he did it before then, he was certain the stubborn mortal would give him trouble. He did make him a splint and sling out of some linen and some pieces of board he found in a wood pile, however.
Finally, the last bit of thievery. Dilandu snuck into one the little houses and gathered some food. Bread and fruit mostly, as well as some fresh venison, he shoved into a pillow case. No one had heard him come in and no one had heard him leave. For this Van was thankful, for he was certain if anyone had tried to stop the thief, the demon prince would have killed them without hesitation.
“Let us go,” the albino said, handing him the pillow case.
Van said nothing, but accepted the sack with his good hand and flung it over his shoulder. He followed Dilandu through the town, nervously listening to the very beginnings of villagers stirring into their homes as the sun began to peak over the little mountain. He did not breath easier until they were well out of the village, following an earthen path up the mountain.

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Dryden held Escaflowne’s ivory handle, staring at it grimly. With the dawn, evidence of the night’s battle could clearly be seen. One of he palace windows swung pathetically on its hinges in the light sea breeze, bits of shattered glass sprinkling down every so often. The grass was torn and upturn in many of the places where the two fighters had battled. And of course, the demon sword was littering the lush greenery.
The merchant had convinced some of Allen’s men to collect the broken pieces of Escaflowne. Merle was also helping, willing and eager to help in any way she could, despite the obvious hangover she was experiencing. Gaddes, also hungover but not as badly as his drinking partner, was talking to his commander in earnest. The scruffy looking soldier saluted, seriously this time, and stalked off to complete his new orders.
Allen came to stand beside his lover, whom he had just brought from the infirmary after having his minor injuries tended to. They had been discreet and no one seemed suspicious of their activities, except perhaps Gaddes, who knew how to keep a secret. Together, they stood silently appearing to study the broken sword, though in truth they were communicating their feelings. A need to be near the other and share their concern.
“I am organizing a search party. Lord Balgus will agree to join me, I’m certain. He has been stalking my aunt all morning demanding to know how this all could have happened. I think he feels some what responsible, especially after he promised he would take care of the boy,” Allen said.
“I don’t think anyone has what it takes to be responsible for that boy,’ the roguish man mused, ‘But I am glad we are not simply giving up on him. I refuse to believe fate intended it to end this way. However, I am worried.”
“Worried? About what? Guilavene’s safety?”
“Mm, yes, but something else I find more disturbing. Doesn’t it strike you as strange, that all the soldiers guarding Van were asleep, but the Van himself was not drugged? Why would the Strategos poison the guards, something I have never heard of him doing, but not Van? When I came upon them, he had the perfect opportunity,” Dryden pondered out loud.
“Perhaps he wanted a fight with Guilavene. The witnesses say he seemed to be enjoying the fight before Escaflowne exploded,” Allen offered.
“Or perhaps he did not drug those soldiers at all.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“What if those soldiers drugged themselves, before he came?”
“What are you talking about? Why would they do something like that? You are not making any sense,” the blonde man said, frowning.
“They did it because they were ordered by the queen to do so.”
“Dryden!’ Allen hissed, ‘Those are treasonous words and I highly
recommend you not say them here again. Besides, that’s preposterous. Why would Queen Eries intentionally allow the demon to…”
A look of absolute horror crossed the prince’s face at it occurred to him.
“Oh holy mother of gods, how could she make a pack with that creature?”
Before his companion could answer, the prince was stalking back into the palace. Dryden considered following him, but that would look suspicious. So he just stood there and looked around, wondering how this all could have happened.
Meanwhile Allen burst into the Queen’s quarters, frightening her maid servants as they were combing her hair. Eries immediately stood and turned her infuriated blue eyes on him.
“How dare you enter my room in such a manner!” she snapped.
“I know what you have done,” he said coldly.
Her eyes become slightly rounder at his words, but then they narrowed sharply. She turn to her servants.
“Leave us,” she ordered, and the maidens quickly left the room, closing the door behind them.
She turned her attention back to her nephew who was glaring at her with a coldness that rivaled her own. She stood, her long golden hair falling around her deep blue gown and she moved slowly towards him, radiating self confidence and indifference.
“How could you?” he said.
“How could I what?” she asked, mocking him.
“You know damn well what. You sold an innocent boy to a devil. How could you do such a thing? The gods will damn your soul to hell for this,” he hissed.
She slapped him. He blinked, a bit surprise and yet unsurprised. She had never struck him before, but lately he could tell she wanted to.
“My soul was damned the moment I became Queen,’ she snapped back, ‘And I did what was in the best interest of this kingdom, so don’t you dare get all high and mighty with me. This may be a revelation for you, but the world does not revolve around fairness and honor. It takes blood and pain and cruelty. So before you start to lecture to me about right and wrong, consider this: what is more precious? The life of a single orphaned boy or the thousands of lives lost in a war? Answer me that, Allen!”
The prince looked at her more coldly than ever and shook his head.
“I am taking some men with me to go in search of Van and the demons Dilandu and the Strategos,” he said.
“No! I forbid it!” the queen demanded.
A sharp, cold laugh escaped Allen’s throat, surprising her more than she would admit. He looked at her with absolute disgust now, and her hatred of him grew.
“You forbid it? How will you stop me? Arrest me? Kill me? You will have one hell of time trying to explain to the Austorian people why you prevented your very own nephew from fulfilling his duty by destroying the very demon who tried to kidnap your son. Besides, you’ll have your hands full explaining the incompetence of your guards in letting Van get kidnapped in the first place,” he said, smiling sardonically.
“They are your guards!” she snapped back.
“Wrong! They are yours, I am resigning my position as captain of the Royal Guard. I can no longer serve you with a clear conscience. T hose who accompany me are simply volunteers, acting by request of Lord Balgus and me,” Allen said evenly, betraying no feeling on the matter either way.
The prince turned without another word and headed for the door. An empty champagne glass shattered near his head as it struck the wall, a stray shard scratching his cheek. He titled his head towards her, but said nothing nor wiping the small trickle of blood from his cheek.
“You fool, do you have adea dea what you are doing? You may be my nephew, but I will not tolerate this impudence! You will die powerless and alone in the streets. If you leave, do not bother to come back,” she roared, clenching her delicate hands.
“I had no intention of returning to this place,” he said.
The queen looked surprised.
“The experiences I have had with Guilavene have taught me something, Aunt Eries,’ he said softly, his expression gentle as he regarded her, ‘The court has made a weak man. I have not been challenged, not physically and not morally. If I remain here, I will continue to weaken until I have become as weak and corrupt as you. And then I will be lost forever.:
Eries started, her eyes widening at his words. Instead of the anger she should have felt, there was deep sense of emptiness and fear. Tears she had not known for years found their way into her eyes and down her cheeks.
“Please, Allen... Don’t abandon me. I don’t have anyone else... anyone else who loves me,” she wept, burying her face and falling to her knees.
Allen shook his head sadly, though she could not see it.
“You will always have my love, my Queen. And you will always have Chid’s love. If that is not enough, you must learn to love others before you can expect others to love you in return. That is the ironic and sometimes cruel nature of love,” he said.
And then she was alone, weeping on the floor.

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When Allen returned to Dryden, the party was already assembled and his things were already gathered for him. In addition to Lord Balgus and his men (and Lady Sora who had remained strangely absent since the appearance of the Doppleganger), Gaddes and about a dozen of his closest and most loyal soldiers gathered about with their packs and riding elks. He felt somewhat strange as they all turned to stare at him. He had always been respected, that was something his bloodline demanded of others. But there was something different now, something more than respect.
Admiration?
“We are all ready, your Highness.”
Allen turned around to see Dryden, pack in one hand and holding garuuk by the harness with the other. Now the prince was a bit confused.
“Where on Gaea did you get that?” he asked.
The merchant flashed him the most charming of his smiles.
“Well, Miss Merle was kind enough to lend me her elk. Of course, there was one stipulation…”
The little cat-like child’s head suddenly popped up right behind the dark-haired man and grinned like a maniac.
“I get to come with,” she said cheerfully.
“Ahh..” was all Allen could get out.
“Yeah!’ Merle cried and turn back to Dryden, ‘I told you he would agree.”
She ran back to her riding elk, leaping easily onto its back. The beast just grunted, obviously used to her fluttering about. The merchant had the decency to look a bit sheepish. The rest of his party looked like they were about ready to burst out into laughter.
“Wait a moment, Merle. We are not just going out ridiere.ere. This is dangerous business. It would not be appropriate for a young girl to come with us,” Allen said firmly.
Merle glared at him and pointed to Lady Sora who was smiling a bit at him.
“She’s a young girl.”
“She’s a young woman, and she has experience in such matters,” Allen corrected.
“So do I! You know, rescuing Chid. Ringing any bells,” the hybrid argued.
“She’s got a point there, boss,” Gaddes said offhandedly, smiling impishly.
“Just whose side are you on?” the prince snapped.
“Why, the side of justice, of course,” he said solemnly.
“I hate you,” the blonde said flatly.
“Pleeeeaaassseee,’ Merle begged, ‘I can help you track them! I’ve done it before!”
Everyone turned to her, and she was certain she was blushing. She should not have mentioned that. No one yet knew about her visits to Lord Van in the maze. Allen gave her a hard look, and then sighed.
“Alright, but if things get out of hand Gaddes,’ he said, looking pointedly at his best friend, ‘will escort you back. Understand?”
The demi-demon nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear.
Within moments the band of men (and two young women), were all mounted and beginning their journey. Lady Sora had said they were heading East, towards the great demon city of Zaibach. Time did not appear to be on their side, but they would make due with what they had.
Because failure was not an option.