Chao 15 & 16
Jun. 25th, 2007 05:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrHmm, just four weeks left now ^_^
Part Three
Light is more than that which shines from above
~Words of Licht
Fifteen
"So what do we do now?" Fritz asked, tilting his head up to look at the gate of the Great Wall before which they stood. "Should we try knocking?"
Sasha snorted. "You are certainly welcome to try."
Grinning, unable to help himself, suspecting fear was making him silly, Fritz strode up to the massive gate and gave it three quick knocks. He waited a minute or so. "I don’t think anyone is home, Sasha."
Rolling his eyes, but smiling, Sasha moved to join him. "Perhaps we should let ourselves in and await our host in his private parlor."
"They’ve finally lost what little of their minds they had left," Killian said.
Stefan’s expression said he was tending toward that viewpoint himself.
Fritz laughed. "We are not mad, I assure you."
Even if you do hear voices.
"Oh, do shut up, Drache. Unless you’re going to suggest how we open the gate."
Try a key.
"Useless," Fritz muttered. He looked again at the gate. "There is no key."
The Great Wall was itself built of massive blocks of dark gray stone – each one longer than a man was tall, as thick as two men standing back to back.
"Hmm," Sasha murmured to himself. He pulled off his leather gloves and ran his hands along the dark wood of the gate, the dully gleaming metal. On his left hand, the strange silvery ring he wore began to shimmer. "It is worth a try, I suppose. All things must die, from a blade of grass to a great king to a mighty storm cloud to an ancient spell. I invoke the name and power of the gods of death. Cortez. Culebra."
A soft breeze blew up, a startling coldness to it when the early spring weather had until then been merely brisk. Fritz shivered. The breeze somehow made him think of someone sighing in quiet relief.
Death is always a relief to those beings and things which exist exclusively for reasons of cruelty and misery.
"Makes sense to me," Fritz replied.
He swore that if unmovable stone could shiver, that is what the wall around the gate did. A heavy, echoing metallic sound filled the valley as the great lock upon the gate opened and the wooden gate parted ever so slightly.
Then the air shifted again, turning warm.
Sasha stepped back, smiling in satisfaction. "Remarkably simple."
"Quite," Fritz said dryly. "Assuming one can invoke the gods at one’s leisure."
"There is that," Sasha conceded with a smile. He looked again at the gate. "Now we push, I suppose?"
Fritz nodded and as one the two men moved forward, putting their shoulders to the door and groaning as they pushed at the heavy gate. At first it would not budge – but with a shuddering groan to drown theirs it at last began to move.
You’re not getting enough exercise.
"Shut up and come push it yourself, then," Fritz replied. He grunted when Sasha called a halt and stepped away from the gate, finally allowing himself to look at what was beyond the Great Wall, at what had not been seen by the people of Schatten for more than a thousand years.
Black thorns.
Everywhere, as though a thorn bush had grown wildly out of control and consumed the entirety of the world within the Great Wall. Everywhere he looked was a nasty tangle of thick black vines heavily lined with ugly, evil-looking black thorns. The smallest were the length of his little finger, the biggest as long as his hand.
Poisonous.
"They’re poisonous," Fritz immediately repeated to the rest of the group. "Don’t touch them." His breaths came out unsteadily, as it began to hit him that they were within the Great Wall…that somewhere in these thorns was Drache.
Yes.
"You do not sound happy," Fritz responded, frowning.
I love you, my other half. Just know that.
Fritz did not like the sound of that. "Why are you acting like this?" he demanded.
There was no reply.
"Fine, be a bastard. I don’t care." Hurt, Fritz looked around for some distraction.
His eyes fell upon the ground, and he realized they stood upon the remains of what must have once been a road. What remained had clearly once been brick. Whatever might be at the end of the road, he could not see. The black thorns extended too high, towering well above him, as intimidating and impenetrable as the Great Wall.
"See?" Killian said, his voice startling when he’d not bothered to speak to any of them since Sasha had regained his full strength and the journey had resumed. "We are not meant to be here. Nothing can get through those. One little cut and it’s over, I bet."
The boy is, regretfully, correct. All who remained within Sonnenstrahl when Teufel unleashed the thorns died upon a single small scrape.
"Yet you are alive?" Fritz asked softly.
Teufel is punishing me. Death is not nearly as satisfying a punishment as a thousand years of unending torment.
Fritz grimaced. "So how do we get past thorns that are poisonous enough a single scrape can kill?"
Sasha snorted. "We nullify the poison, of course."
"Of course," Fritz replied.
"How?" Stefan asked, finally speaking. "Magic? Sasha…"
"I’ll be fine, sweet," Sasha replied, giving Stefan a smile Fritz suspected precious few people had ever seen.
Then he held his hands out, palms up, as if in supplication. "I invoke the name and power of the god of purity. Gael."
The air around Sasha seemed suddenly to be shimmering – only slightly at first, but the brilliance grew and grew, then began to spread out, flaring brighter than ever as it encountered the black thorns.
Sasha weaved unsteadily on his feet, but almost immediately Stefan was at his side, steadying him.
"We’ll camp here another night," Sasha said, suddenly looking extremely tired. "It will take the magic that long to purify a good amount of the thorns. By tomorrow morning, there should be enough cleansed we can make a few miles headway."
Fritz nodded. "We should perhaps talk longer about what precisely we intend to do. ‘Kill Teufel’ is as vague as it is explicit."
"Yes," Sasha agreed. "Though I’ve not really much to offer." Holding Stefan’s hand, he led the way back beyond the gate and toward the room that had been their camp since Sasha had fallen three weeks ago.
"I’m glad spring has at least taken hold," Stefan said. "Everything is so much harder to do in the cold."
Killian snorted but said nothing.
Settled back in their room, Fritz set to building a fire, ordering Killian to make himself useful by preparing food. The boy was nothing short of extremely frustrating, the most recalcitrant child Fritz had ever encountered – and he’d encountered plenty, until his madness grew to be so well known he was discouraged from keeping in touch with the orphanage where he’d been raised.
I am sorry I took that from you.
"It is not your fault," Fritz said softly. He would rather have Drache and they both knew it.
Still.
"Scorch off," Fritz said. "If you’re just going to act like this all night, then don’t bother me at all. I cannot wait to wring your neck."
Indeed.
Rolling his eyes, wishing Drache would come out of the strange mood he was in, Fritz threw a few small branches on the fire and then set about preparing tea.
An hour later, well fed and with fresh cups of tea, he finally returned to the matter at hand. "It is strange we’ve never spoken of this before…but I suppose simply conquering the Great Wall was enough to deal with. No sense in worrying about what is beyond the bridge before you have crossed it."
Sasha nodded. "Precisely. But at that, I am not quite certain. When I first came here, all I knew was that I would have to kill Sents to get the chance to kill Teufel, and I had precious little information to go on regarding Sents."
"You’re either the bravest or the most reckless man I know," Fritz said with a shake of his head, "to decide to kill a near-god but having no real idea how to do that."
"How was I to know?" Sasha asked. "Even the gods themselves have not seen Teufel in more than a thousand years. Well before Licht was killed by the Basilisk for attempting to steal his power, he had sealed Schatten from his brothers."
"Licht was betrayed!" Killian snarled suddenly. "He was murdered by his own brothers because they could not be bothered to listen to him! Everyone knows that."
"Then what ‘everyone knows’ is wrong," Sasha said coolly, though his gold eyes flashed. "I am certain Teufel prefers his version, but it is not accurate."
Teufel loved Licht. More than anything. Whatever Licht wanted or asked, Teufel would do without question or hesitation. The Shadow of Licht was created to be the God of Light’s companion. A perfect mate.
"Too perfect," Fritz muttered, and explained what Drache had told him.
Killian’s face clouded, but he did not get a chance to speak.
"Indeed," Sasha said. "Or perhaps not perfect at all. In the words of Licht himself, shadows are proof of light – and light is not merely a reference to the sun. Licht fell into despair and in that despair did terrible things. He attempted to steal the power of the God of Death and destroy the world for the purpose of starting it over. How was a mere shadow to resist that? No, Teufel is only proof of Licht and so can only be whatever Licht is."
"Licht was rejected and murdered by his brothers! That is the truth and no foreigner could possibly understand our country and gods better than we do," Killian snarled, rage turning his face bright red. "Rather than help, his brothers simply murdered him."
"Think what you like," Sasha replied, sipping his tea. "Even if that were the case, it was not cause for Teufel to so cruelly mistreat those whom Licht loved dearest, and for whom he betrayed his brothers."
"The people did not listen to Licht’s pleas, and caused him to be betrayed and slain," Killian retorted. "Schatten is punished for so disrespecting and disregarding its Lord. You have no right to come and interfere in another’s world."
Sasha shrugged. "I am free to do as I choose, and I choose to save Schatten. Everyone should have a choice in life, and the people of Schatten do not."
"You say it’s wrong to take choices away from people," Killian replied, "but what gives you the right to decide that an entire country is better free of fate? Perhaps people are happier having their choices taken from them."
No. Licht once said—before the madn—
Fritz hissed as he felt Drache go abruptly silent. "Drache! You promised!"
I am still here.
Relief flooded through Fritz. "You idiot. Why would you do that?"
Since the Great Wall was breached, his power has weakened slightly. I attempted to push. I managed far more than once I would have been able. The boy’s words are not—
"I understand," Fritz said, cutting him off before Drache suffered for attempting to help. "Drache says that Licht once would have disagreed."
Fury filled Killian’s face. "The words of a crazy fool!"
Sasha looked at him, expression cool but eyes blazing with fury. "You will be silent, boy, or I will silence you myself."
Though clearly still furious, Killian subsided.
Fritz looked at Stefan, who sat in miserable silence. Even the soothing touches Sasha bestowed did not completely wipe the unhappiness away – and Licht knew Stefan with Sasha around was completely different than when Sasha was absent.
"So what will happen after Teufel is dead?" Stefan asked quietly.
Sasha frowned in thought. "Ideally, with the darkness cast by Teufel gone, we will be able to find the heart of Licht."
Killian froze, then his head jerked up. "The heart of Licht?"
"Yes," Sasha said slowly. "When the Basilisk killed Licht, all but a single piece of Licht was completely destroyed. Such is the power of the Eyes of the Basilisk when used to their full strength. No one knows where that single piece went, though. Teufel might know, perhaps, but even if he did he would not tell us. That one piece is the heart of Licht, and with it this country can be restored."
"Impossible," Killian said.
"We shall see, I guess," Sasha replied.
Fritz frowned, not quite certain what to make of such information. The heart of Licht…
The heart, which would contain the soul, the essence. Licht…not completely dead…
The longing in Drache’s voice startled Fritz. He was surprised at the flare of jealousy which sprang up.
Licht was my Lord. You are my heart and other half.
Fritz nodded, feeling like an idiot for getting jealous over a voice that no one else could hear – and of a god who was long dead. "Perhaps I’m just tired," he muttered.
"On that note," Sasha said, "I suggest we turn in early. We can rise that much sooner and make as much progress as possible."
Fritz nodded. "A fine idea."
They all ignored Killian’s grousing, leaving the boy to do as he wanted. Fritz wondered often why he bothered to stay – except it was clear the boy was clinging to Stefan with startling tenacity.
Sometimes Fritz was almost grateful his lover was only in his head. Though perhaps that soon would change…
Sleep, my other half.
Nodding, both to Sasha and Drache, Fritz set out his bedroll and wrapped himself in his cloak, falling almost immediately to sleep, pulled there by Drache.
Fritz was surprised to find himself already abed, completely bare, sunlight from the open archways making him almost too hot.
Hotter still was the hand that touched him from behind, tracing the curves of his spine, teasing along the crack of his ass as a second hand smoothed over his bare head, warm lips pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Beloved other half…"
Shivering at the intensity of the longing in Drache’s voice, Fritz tried to turn around to face him – but Drache would not let him. "Drache…"
"Hush," Drache replied, gentle touches becoming firmer, bolder, teasing and tormenting. "I wish we could dream eternally, other half."
Moaning at Drache’s assault, shuddering in the aftermaths, Fritz struggled to form coherent thoughts and turn them into words. "Waking will be so much better, when at last we meet."
A rough, shaky, misery-drenched laugh was smothered against his shoulder.
Fritz finally turned around, startled when the usually bold, dominating Drache collapsed into his arms and held him tight.
"I wish I could tell you, other half. Alas, his hold is still too strong."
"Tell me what?"
"You will hate me."
Fritz stroked the long tail of Drache’s hair, entranced even amidst Drache’s unhappiness by the contrast of that gold hair against dark skin. "I could never hate you, Drache, as hard I have always tried. You are my other half."
Instead of calming, Drache only shuddered and held him tighter, and Fritz was astonished to feel what he realized were tears on his shoulder. He held Drache tight. "Whatever is the matter?"
"You will hate me. There is nothing I can do because I cannot speak of it. Would that I had never defied…yet I would do the same again…" Drache finally looked up, tears smudged on his cheeks, pale eyes dark with anguish. "Do not hate me too much."
Fritz frowned. "Drache…" He reached up to hold Drache’s face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You know better than I how I feel. Why are you acting so strangely? I am the whiney one, not you."
"I never thought you would make it beyond the Wall. Now we must endure the final, ultimate blow in our prolonged torture."
The words made Fritz shiver.
"Ah, beloved other half," Drache said softly, sadly, "I wish sometimes you had remained a drunkard. It would be less painful for you."
Fritz tugged him down and kissed Drache slowly, deeply, until he was dizzy with it himself. "I would rather suffer a thousand torments with you than live in peace without you."
"And I you, other half…but I will not be able to bear it when you see me, hate me."
"I will not hate you."
Drache did not reply, except to lean down and kiss him, a desperate edge to it. The world shifted, moved, though Drache did not break the kiss until they were still again. Fritz blinked, surprised to find himself on top of Drache – who always was the bolder.
Not that he would complain, for Drache was as fine and tempting beneath him as above, but he wondered why Drache was so insistent upon it now. He wasn’t given a chance to ask as Drache dragged him down for another kiss, hands smoothing over his skin, encouraging Fritz to do some touching of his own. That desperation he’d sensed earlier was thicker than ever, almost feverish in its intensity, as though they had precious little time…as if this was the last time.
Fritz broke the kiss and caught Drache’s hands, pressing them down into the bedding, too anxious now to appreciate the way Drache’s skin glowed in the sunlight. "What is wrong? This is not like you. Where are the smirks I know so well? The provocative taunts?"
Drache stared up at him, eyes full of pain, more vulnerable than Fritz had ever seen him. "I do not want to lose you, my other half, yet there is nothing I can do to prevent it."
"Scorch off," Fritz snapped, suddenly growing angry, tightening his grip on Drache’s wrists, settling his weight, refusing to let Drache so much as twitch. "My entire life I have been called crazy. I have been driven from one home after another. I wound up in the streets a lunatic drunkard. All because a voice in my head asked me to trust, to believe. I have. No matter what, Drache, I knew I had you. Even when I wanted to hate you, ignore you, be rid of you – I didn’t because I did trust you. I did believe you. No matter how crazy everyone thought I was, no matter how miserable it made me.
"Now you’re giving up on me, all because you think I am going to hate you. That’s not fair. Where’s your trust in me? Your belief in me?"
Drache shook his head back and forth. "Other half, you don’t know…"
"I have never known!" Fritz shouted, startling them both. He took a breath to calm himself. "Never, Drache, never have I known more than what you could tell me, what you do to me when I sleep. That has been enough to keep me going, to keep me believing even at my lowest. I have never given up on you – why are you giving up on me?"
"I’m not," Drache replied. "It’s just—"
"Shut up. Scorch off. Stop being so stupid." Fritz leaned down and kissed him hard, biting at Drache’s lower lip as he pulled away. "You’re giving up on me. You don’t trust me."
"Other half—"
"I don’t want to hear it," Fritz said. "The only words I want to hear from your mouth are that you will trust me as much as I have always trusted you."
Drache stared at him, then finally drew a slow, shaky breath, releasing it with far more assurance. "Very well, my beloved other half. I will trust you not to hate me when at last we meet."
"Good," Fritz said, and this time gave a kiss that was far gentler, lapping at the lip he’d bruised only moments ago. Then he smirked. "Now that I have you pinned and incapable of causing mischief…"
Sixteen
Stefan could not believe they were inside the Great Wall.
He felt as though he were walking around in a daze, or a dream.
Perhaps nightmare was more accurate. He looked at Sasha, walking a few steps ahead of the rest of them with sword drawn, wishing he could go up and hold him tight, or at least take his hand – but as much danger as they were likely in, he knew that was the worst thing he could do. He knew how to use his own sword, but…no one knew what else might be within the Great Wall.
Or when they would encounter the Holy Sentinel, said to be at least twice the size of the Great Sentinels. Though something that large, surely they would hear it coming. Even if they didn’t, Fritz would sense it.
Stefan rolled his eyes at himself. He was worried about Sents, but that wasn’t why he was upset.
He didn’t have a lot of experience with saving the world or killing near-gods or anything…but he was fairly certain the hero wasn’t supposed to die in the end.
Cursing softly, he turned his mind elsewhere.
Unfortunately, all it did was land upon a different set of thoughts concerning Sasha.
Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny. Stefan wanted to say it aloud, see how it felt to speak it. So very different from Sasha, which seemed so plain by comparison. Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny was a fancy name, an important one. Boys from tiny villages in the middle of nowhere didn’t have names like that.
What did someone who was once an advisor to a king see in someone like him? Stefan knew he’d never be able to talk to a king – or a queen, no matter how nice Sasha said she was. A queen he called by her first name. Because they were cousins.
He could just see her and everyone who was fit to be with her laughing at him, when Sasha had been in love with a king and could probably have anyone—
Snarling, Stefan reminded himself of everything that Sasha had said. That he wasn’t an advisor anymore. That he loved Stefan.
The thought was warming, and Stefan focused only on that, refusing to think of the rest of it. He hadn’t laughed at Sasha, he hadn’t told him to stop mentioning it. That made him loads smarter than a king.
He looked out over the landscape to distract himself, still incredulous at the changes wrought overnight. Where there had been nothing but an impenetrable wall of poisonous black thorns, there was now only tangles of ivy upon the ground, almost but not quite obscuring the road upon which they traveled – little more than dirt and thinner tangles of ivy, but definitively a road for all that.
Overhead the sky was as overcast as ever, but winter had broken and the air was almost pleasantly warm – by midday, it would be more than comfortable.
And weaving through all his fear was excitement. They were beyond the Great Wall. Where no one else in Schatten had ever been. All because of his Sasha.
Who wouldn’t die; Stefan refused to resign himself to that. He would find a way…though currently he was still rather at a loss. How did one fix a heart which didn’t work properly? Stefan frowned, shoulders hunching, and tried to turn his thoughts back to other things.
Yet how could he not think of Sasha? Who loved him. Who was going to die. Far from his homeland, helping a country that barely knew he existed.
Lost in his thoughts, Stefan didn’t realize they’d stopped until he crashed into something terribly familiar, caught by strong arms he knew he would never grow tired of feeling wrapped around him. "Sasha."
"You look troubled, sweet," Sasha said, stroking his cheek.
"Just…this is all overwhelming," Stefan replied. "We’re really beyond the Great Wall…though all I see is ivy and more thorns." Far off in the distance, he could see the wall of black. Sasha had said before they would likely reach it by day’s end. "Where is Verlorengehen?"
Sasha turned to look. "Beyond the thorns, I’d imagine…though if this Citadel is such a massive structure, I do admit I’m surprised we cannot see at least some of it."
"Hidden," Fritz said. "Once past the thorns, we will see it."
Stefan looked at Fritz, biting his lip in worry. Was he imagining things or had Fritz seemed troubled lately? Fritz was always the cheerful one, always making them laugh if only in the way he argued with Drache. Yet since they’d started traveling beyond the Great Wall, he’d been quiet. This was the first time he’d spoken in the past few hours. "Is that when we’ll meet Drache?" he asked, knowing that the upcoming meeting with his ‘other half’ usually cheered Fritz immensely.
Instead Fritz just looked more downcast. "Yes," he said with a soft sigh. "We will probably be there sometime early tomorrow, assuming the thorns have cleared by then."
"They should," Sasha replied. He motioned for them all to sit – the horses Fritz and Killian had taken several days ago to the nearby village, as they couldn’t be certain how the animals would react to whatever might be within the Great Wall.
Stefan gratefully complied, more than willing to rest his legs for a bit. He yawned and leaned against Sasha, wishing there was time to take a nap. How silly to want a nap when they were planning to kill Teufel. It seemed so trivial. Boring.
Though he really wouldn’t protest one. It was worse than waking up before sunrise to do chores when the first winter cold set, ruining the last memories of summer and autumn.
Fingers traced up and down his spine, soothing in their familiarity, and Stefan wished more than ever for a nap, to doze curled up with Sasha like they had all the time in the world.
Sasha laughed softly. "Do not fall asleep, sweet. I promise you waking up will be an agony. Eat something, instead. It will revive you."
Nodding, Stefan reluctantly sat up and accepted his portion of the food Fritz handed out. "I much preferred having the horses," he said with a smile.
"I as well," Fritz said, rubbing his shaved head and yawning. "If we do manage this adventure of ours, the first thing I’m going to do when we’re finished is find the largest, comfiest bed and stay in it for a week. A month." He laughed. "Mind you, I prefer this to skulking in alleyways scaring coin out of passerby and drinking myself sick – but I still am going to find that bed."
Sasha smirked. "You will have to settle for the second-largest, for I’ve already claimed the largest for myself and Stefan."
"Fair enough, I suppose," Fritz conceded. "So long as it is comfortable and I do not have to move for a month, I will be content." He made a face. "Scorch off." Somehow, the words didn’t have the levity they usually did.
Stefan frowned and ate, eyes skittering briefly to Killian, who had given up speaking entirely. More than once Stefan had started to tell him to go home, that it would probably be better…but he knew he’d be hurt if Killian had done that to him, were their positions reversed.
Besides, Killian never had problems doing precisely what he wanted. Look at how he’d stolen the horse and found Stefan…
Knuckles dusted over his cheek, the leather of Sasha’s gloves warm and slick. It was always so strange to feel those gloves by day and calloused skin by night. Stefan nuzzled into the touch. "Do you think this place could be…affecting us?" he asked. "Everyone seems so…" He shrugged.
"Solemn?" Sasha suggested. "I do not think it is that this place is doing something particular to us, more as the reality of what we’re doing tends to weigh heavy."
Stefan nodded. "That makes sense. I hope…we can all be cheerful again soon." He ducked his head, hiding from that which he did not want to face. He would not lose Sasha. He wouldn’t.
"Sweet," Sasha said quietly, gently grasping Stefan’s chin and forcing his head up, amber eyes so dark and full of emotion Stefan wasn’t sure he could bear it. "Let it go, sweet. There is nothing you can do and—"
"But it’s not fair!" Stefan burst out, knowing he was being a stupid kid but not caring. "You’re—everything. Without you I’d still be back home doing nothing, and Fritz would still be in his alleyway and we wouldn’t be here and Schatten wouldn’t get rescued and for all that you’re going to die! No matter what!" He angrily brushed away the tears that were trailing down his cheeks without permission. "It’s not fair."
"Stefan…" Sasha kissed him, and Stefan wanted to stay angry, he did, but Sasha’s kisses made him forget everything. He suspected a Sent could be sneaking up behind him and he wouldn’t notice even when it bit him if he was kissing Sasha at the time.
When he was finally permitted to breathe, Stefan noticed Fritz and Killian had gone ahead without them.
"You have to let it go, sweet," Sasha said softly, stroking his hair and face.
"It’s not fair," Stefan whispered.
"Many things are not fair in life," Sasha replied. "Perhaps it’s the price I pay for being free of the threads of fate."
Stefan shook his head in silent disagreement. It wasn’t right. He wouldn’t let it happen. He’d—
"Sweet," Sasha said firmly, the sharp tone jarring, startling Stefan into looking up – but the eyes that watched him were filled only with tenderness. "Please, Stefan. Don’t do this. I spent my entire life choking on the same bitterness that’s slowly overtaking you. I beg of you – let it go. Promise me that whatever happens, you won’t be bitter and angry. I don’t want that for you."
"You shouldn’t have to—"
A finger was pressed to his lips. "Sweet, please."
Stefan closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly, hating the way his eyes burned. He wasn’t a kid, he wouldn’t cry. Sasha and Fritz never cried about anything, and neither did Killian. "Sasha…" He finally looked up. "I don’t want you to die. It’s not right. I can’t just…"
"Yes, you can," Sasha replied, and gathered him close, caressing and soothing. "For me, please."
"That’s not fair," Stefan said, almost but not quite laughing. "You’re cheating."
Sasha sighed and pulled back, slick leather of his gloves sliding across Stefan’s cheeks as he wiped more tears away. "I’m not trying to be unfair, sweet. But I meant what I said…I’ve spent my whole life hating everything because one man turned me down. It took me far too long to see that he was a coward, longer still to let go of my anger – and that I did too late." Sasha wiped away another stray tear, then pressed a kiss to the spot. "His name was Zorya," he said quietly. "He was a good king, but hid personal fears and weaknesses behind his crown. I spent too many years of my life hating him for laughing at me, refusing to see he was just scared and weak. I turned bitter. I will carry the remnants of that bitterness the rest of my life. It’s what I am now, or was before I found you. Zorya and I…we were friends, as children, and then grew apart. I was bitter and he was weak. They are not compliments. Bitterness should always be paired with something sweet."
The significance of that took a moment to hit, but when it did Stefan could only stare, then cling more tightly to Sasha than ever. "I’m not sweet, not really. I’m just a baby. I’m sorry."
"There is nothing for which you must apologize, sweet," Sasha replied softly, tilting his head up and kissing him softly. "All things considered, you have dealt with this remarkably well. The right thing would have been to send you back to Maja…but I am glad you are here with me, though I regret the pain it causes you."
Stefan laughed shakily. "You always talk so prettily, I should have caught on to your being a prince sooner. I always knew you were far above me."
"No, sweet," Sasha said, shaking his head and laughing softly. "I’m not a prince, and I didn’t want anyone to know my lineage. It doesn’t matter. I wish I could get that through your head." He tousled Stefan’s hair.
"But if you hadn’t come to Schatten…" He’d still be a silly boy wishing for more than a farmer’s life and not knowing that what he really wanted was a red-haired prince with dark gold eyes and a touch that burned.
Sasha shook his head. "Irrelevant. The point is that I did come. All that matters now is that you not fall into anger and bitterness when I am gone. Promise me you won’t."
It took every bit of strength and willpower he had to nod and look Sasha in the eyes. "I do not like it, but I promise, Sasha."
"Thank you," Sasha replied. He stood up and held out a hand, which Stefan gratefully took.
Stefan yawned. "It seems stupid to think about a nap at a time like this, but that’s really all I want. Though I’m so anxious I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway."
Sasha laughed. "I assure you, sweet, that even at the most dire moments I have longed for nothing so badly as a nap." He ruffled Stefan’s hair, stroked his cheek, and then led them slowly toward the others, once more drawing his sword.
They caught up to Fritz and Killian a few minutes later, and continued to walk in silence, tension growing as they drew ever nearer to the wall of thorns. "How far from the wall is the city?" Stefan asked. "It seems so far away…"
"It’s not more than a day’s journey," Fritz answered, obviously relaying what was told to him by Drache. "Once, when the roads were here and in good condition, the traveling went much faster. There were always performers and bazaars and festivals going on in the open land around Sonnenstrahl."
Stefan nodded, wondering what that must have been like. If it could be that way again. He thought it might be possible – he knew dozens of people back home who would love such a thing. "Just like the books I used to read at night?"
"Very likely," Sasha replied. "A festival would be fun. There are festivals back home. My favorite, actually, was always the autumn festivals. When there is still sunshine, and the weather is just cold enough to light fires and stay outside late without freezing to death. When I was younger, I’d sneak off to the peasant festivals just because they were more fun than the royal ones."
Killian sneered, but did not bother to voice his thoughts.
"What sorts of things did you do at your festivals?" Stefan asked, eager to keep Sasha talking about his life and home. "We always cook a lot, and everyone is free from all but the most necessary chores for the day."
Sasha smiled. "I did not have chores, but I had lessons on very nearly everything and my parents did not let me skip or hasten them. When they were done, though, I skipped away." His smile turned sad for a moment, but was gone almost as quick as it had appeared. "There was food, but mostly singing around the fires. Even when we thought destroying Zhar Ptitka necessary, we continued to sing around the bonfires." Sasha shrugged.
"What did you sing?"
"Oh, at the royal festivals it was only music…the peasants though…they sang old folk songs, ballads of ancient figures of Pozhar. Tales of Ivan and the Wolf, the Lost Gypsies…they sang hymns, too, long ago. Old prayers that are only now beginning to reappear. Pozhar once took its prayers quite seriously."
"Prayers?" Stefan asked softly.
"Yes," Sasha said. "Words of thanks, of request, or simply of comfort. The Sacred Firebird is a god of fire and of rebirth, so most of our prayers revolve around those themes, though we also have words for other things."
The expression on Sasha’s face made Stefan smile and ache. It made him smile because Sasha looked so happy and it made him ache because Sasha looked very much as though he’d lost something.
Stefan had always wanted to see other places, to see the world he knew existed somewhere but would never be able to reach…but at the back of his mind had always been the belief that if he managed it, someday he would return home.
There would be no returning home for Sasha, and it made Stefan want to cry all over again. "What—what are some of your prayers?"
Sasha looked at him, but seemed to sense Stefan didn’t want to be pressed. "Hmm…I thank the fire that made me, I thank the fire that feeds me, I thank the fire that lives in me, and the fire that frees my soul. That is one, a general prayer of gratitude to be said each evening before bed. Though your face may change a thousand times, your smile remains the same. That’s more a saying than a prayer, but it was once a parting prayer…sort of well-wishing when someone left. Those who are loved are never forgotten, as those who love never forget. A piece of a funeral prayer."
The words were pretty, though Stefan didn’t quite get all of them, but…they didn’t affect him the way they clearly affected Sasha. "I wish we had prayers like that," he said sadly. "The most we do is thank Teufel for caring for us in Licht’s absence."
"If you call this care," Sasha said.
"He could have left the children of Licht to die," Killian said coldly. "It would have served them right, for driving Licht to such depths of misery and despair."
Sasha shook his head. "We disagree, Killian, and that is that. I will not get into another argument with you. If you dislike what we do so much, I suggest you go home before it is too late."
"No," Killian snarled. "I want to watch you fail."
"Killian!" Stefan snapped. "That’s enough."
Sneering, Killian never the less fell silent.
Stefan hugged himself, wishing his misery would ease, knowing it wouldn’t. "I wish we had prayers like that," he repeated softly.
"I see the sun in the sky," Fritz said slowly, carefully, "and bow my head to the ground. The rocks and the trees and the beasts have shadows, and those shadows are proof the sun shines down upon us. My own shadow I do not see…for I am a child of Licht…the greatest proof that He exists, and shines down upon us all." Fritz shook his head and grimaced. "That gave me a headache, you idiot."
"How did you manage that?" Sasha asked.
Fritz shook his head. "I do not know…Drache says perhaps Teufel has no problem with prayers…or perhaps he knows full well we’ll never tell anyone else."
Stefan shivered at that. "It’s still pretty. Proof of Licht…"
"Quite," Sasha agreed.
In all their talking, Stefan had failed to notice they’d finally reached the wall of black thorns that Sasha’s magic had not yet turned to ivy. They were menacing, frightening, worse even than the Great Sentinels somehow.
"So we wait until tomorrow?" he asked.
Sasha nodded. "Yes. We’ve little choice in…" His voice trailed off as right before their eyes the tangle of black thorns began to shiver, shudder…and move. Slowly they began unwinding themselves, as if being carefully unknotted by unseen hands. "Fire and ash, what is going on?"
Killian stepped forward. "Maybe Teufel is inviting us in."
"I doubt it," Sasha replied. "More like it’s a trap."
They fell silent as they watched the thorny vines continued to untangle, and Stefan did not know how much time passed as they stood there watching, tension thick in the air, until at last the vines stopped moving.
Before them now was a path – a street of dark stone, leading to what seemed to be the remains of an old gate not too far away. Everything was dark, even the sky above them. Had night fallen already? Stefan shuddered and hugged himself again, jumping slightly when an arm landed across his shoulders, relief and his own absurdity flooding him when he realized it was only Sasha.
"See?" Killian repeated. "It’s an invitation."
"Or a trap," Sasha snapped. "If those vines decide to close again while we’re in there, we will not be able to escape. I do not care to end up like that after working so hard to get to this point."
Stefan followed where Sasha pointed – and recoiled.
Tangled in the vines, perhaps revealed when they’d been uncoiling, was a skull, black thorns poking through the eye sockets, the top of the head, the mouth. He shuddered and did not protest when Sasha held him close.
Killian sneered and turned away. "I’m going in." With that he bolted, sprinting down the open walkway, ignoring the shouts and bellows that chased after him, waving as he reached the gate at the opposite end – then he vanished altogether.
"He…Killian…" Stefan could only stare at the spot where his best friend had been. "I can’t believe…"
Sasha’s lip curled. "When I find that selfish brat, I am going to treat him to a lashing. He thinks of no one but himself." He sighed. "I guess that means we had best attempt the vines."
"Drache says…he does not think the vines will kill us."
"Very well then," Sasha said. Sheathing his sword, he drew his whip and held it coiled but ready, then stepped forward to lead the way through the vines. "I say we take it at a run all the same. Ready? Then go!"
Part Three
Light is more than that which shines from above
~Words of Licht
Light is more than that which shines from above
~Words of Licht
Part Three
Light is more than that which shines from above
~Words of Licht
Fifteen
"So what do we do now?" Fritz asked, tilting his head up to look at the gate of the Great Wall before which they stood. "Should we try knocking?"
Sasha snorted. "You are certainly welcome to try."
Grinning, unable to help himself, suspecting fear was making him silly, Fritz strode up to the massive gate and gave it three quick knocks. He waited a minute or so. "I don’t think anyone is home, Sasha."
Rolling his eyes, but smiling, Sasha moved to join him. "Perhaps we should let ourselves in and await our host in his private parlor."
"They’ve finally lost what little of their minds they had left," Killian said.
Stefan’s expression said he was tending toward that viewpoint himself.
Fritz laughed. "We are not mad, I assure you."
Even if you do hear voices.
"Oh, do shut up, Drache. Unless you’re going to suggest how we open the gate."
Try a key.
"Useless," Fritz muttered. He looked again at the gate. "There is no key."
The Great Wall was itself built of massive blocks of dark gray stone – each one longer than a man was tall, as thick as two men standing back to back.
"Hmm," Sasha murmured to himself. He pulled off his leather gloves and ran his hands along the dark wood of the gate, the dully gleaming metal. On his left hand, the strange silvery ring he wore began to shimmer. "It is worth a try, I suppose. All things must die, from a blade of grass to a great king to a mighty storm cloud to an ancient spell. I invoke the name and power of the gods of death. Cortez. Culebra."
A soft breeze blew up, a startling coldness to it when the early spring weather had until then been merely brisk. Fritz shivered. The breeze somehow made him think of someone sighing in quiet relief.
Death is always a relief to those beings and things which exist exclusively for reasons of cruelty and misery.
"Makes sense to me," Fritz replied.
He swore that if unmovable stone could shiver, that is what the wall around the gate did. A heavy, echoing metallic sound filled the valley as the great lock upon the gate opened and the wooden gate parted ever so slightly.
Then the air shifted again, turning warm.
Sasha stepped back, smiling in satisfaction. "Remarkably simple."
"Quite," Fritz said dryly. "Assuming one can invoke the gods at one’s leisure."
"There is that," Sasha conceded with a smile. He looked again at the gate. "Now we push, I suppose?"
Fritz nodded and as one the two men moved forward, putting their shoulders to the door and groaning as they pushed at the heavy gate. At first it would not budge – but with a shuddering groan to drown theirs it at last began to move.
You’re not getting enough exercise.
"Shut up and come push it yourself, then," Fritz replied. He grunted when Sasha called a halt and stepped away from the gate, finally allowing himself to look at what was beyond the Great Wall, at what had not been seen by the people of Schatten for more than a thousand years.
Black thorns.
Everywhere, as though a thorn bush had grown wildly out of control and consumed the entirety of the world within the Great Wall. Everywhere he looked was a nasty tangle of thick black vines heavily lined with ugly, evil-looking black thorns. The smallest were the length of his little finger, the biggest as long as his hand.
Poisonous.
"They’re poisonous," Fritz immediately repeated to the rest of the group. "Don’t touch them." His breaths came out unsteadily, as it began to hit him that they were within the Great Wall…that somewhere in these thorns was Drache.
Yes.
"You do not sound happy," Fritz responded, frowning.
I love you, my other half. Just know that.
Fritz did not like the sound of that. "Why are you acting like this?" he demanded.
There was no reply.
"Fine, be a bastard. I don’t care." Hurt, Fritz looked around for some distraction.
His eyes fell upon the ground, and he realized they stood upon the remains of what must have once been a road. What remained had clearly once been brick. Whatever might be at the end of the road, he could not see. The black thorns extended too high, towering well above him, as intimidating and impenetrable as the Great Wall.
"See?" Killian said, his voice startling when he’d not bothered to speak to any of them since Sasha had regained his full strength and the journey had resumed. "We are not meant to be here. Nothing can get through those. One little cut and it’s over, I bet."
The boy is, regretfully, correct. All who remained within Sonnenstrahl when Teufel unleashed the thorns died upon a single small scrape.
"Yet you are alive?" Fritz asked softly.
Teufel is punishing me. Death is not nearly as satisfying a punishment as a thousand years of unending torment.
Fritz grimaced. "So how do we get past thorns that are poisonous enough a single scrape can kill?"
Sasha snorted. "We nullify the poison, of course."
"Of course," Fritz replied.
"How?" Stefan asked, finally speaking. "Magic? Sasha…"
"I’ll be fine, sweet," Sasha replied, giving Stefan a smile Fritz suspected precious few people had ever seen.
Then he held his hands out, palms up, as if in supplication. "I invoke the name and power of the god of purity. Gael."
The air around Sasha seemed suddenly to be shimmering – only slightly at first, but the brilliance grew and grew, then began to spread out, flaring brighter than ever as it encountered the black thorns.
Sasha weaved unsteadily on his feet, but almost immediately Stefan was at his side, steadying him.
"We’ll camp here another night," Sasha said, suddenly looking extremely tired. "It will take the magic that long to purify a good amount of the thorns. By tomorrow morning, there should be enough cleansed we can make a few miles headway."
Fritz nodded. "We should perhaps talk longer about what precisely we intend to do. ‘Kill Teufel’ is as vague as it is explicit."
"Yes," Sasha agreed. "Though I’ve not really much to offer." Holding Stefan’s hand, he led the way back beyond the gate and toward the room that had been their camp since Sasha had fallen three weeks ago.
"I’m glad spring has at least taken hold," Stefan said. "Everything is so much harder to do in the cold."
Killian snorted but said nothing.
Settled back in their room, Fritz set to building a fire, ordering Killian to make himself useful by preparing food. The boy was nothing short of extremely frustrating, the most recalcitrant child Fritz had ever encountered – and he’d encountered plenty, until his madness grew to be so well known he was discouraged from keeping in touch with the orphanage where he’d been raised.
I am sorry I took that from you.
"It is not your fault," Fritz said softly. He would rather have Drache and they both knew it.
Still.
"Scorch off," Fritz said. "If you’re just going to act like this all night, then don’t bother me at all. I cannot wait to wring your neck."
Indeed.
Rolling his eyes, wishing Drache would come out of the strange mood he was in, Fritz threw a few small branches on the fire and then set about preparing tea.
An hour later, well fed and with fresh cups of tea, he finally returned to the matter at hand. "It is strange we’ve never spoken of this before…but I suppose simply conquering the Great Wall was enough to deal with. No sense in worrying about what is beyond the bridge before you have crossed it."
Sasha nodded. "Precisely. But at that, I am not quite certain. When I first came here, all I knew was that I would have to kill Sents to get the chance to kill Teufel, and I had precious little information to go on regarding Sents."
"You’re either the bravest or the most reckless man I know," Fritz said with a shake of his head, "to decide to kill a near-god but having no real idea how to do that."
"How was I to know?" Sasha asked. "Even the gods themselves have not seen Teufel in more than a thousand years. Well before Licht was killed by the Basilisk for attempting to steal his power, he had sealed Schatten from his brothers."
"Licht was betrayed!" Killian snarled suddenly. "He was murdered by his own brothers because they could not be bothered to listen to him! Everyone knows that."
"Then what ‘everyone knows’ is wrong," Sasha said coolly, though his gold eyes flashed. "I am certain Teufel prefers his version, but it is not accurate."
Teufel loved Licht. More than anything. Whatever Licht wanted or asked, Teufel would do without question or hesitation. The Shadow of Licht was created to be the God of Light’s companion. A perfect mate.
"Too perfect," Fritz muttered, and explained what Drache had told him.
Killian’s face clouded, but he did not get a chance to speak.
"Indeed," Sasha said. "Or perhaps not perfect at all. In the words of Licht himself, shadows are proof of light – and light is not merely a reference to the sun. Licht fell into despair and in that despair did terrible things. He attempted to steal the power of the God of Death and destroy the world for the purpose of starting it over. How was a mere shadow to resist that? No, Teufel is only proof of Licht and so can only be whatever Licht is."
"Licht was rejected and murdered by his brothers! That is the truth and no foreigner could possibly understand our country and gods better than we do," Killian snarled, rage turning his face bright red. "Rather than help, his brothers simply murdered him."
"Think what you like," Sasha replied, sipping his tea. "Even if that were the case, it was not cause for Teufel to so cruelly mistreat those whom Licht loved dearest, and for whom he betrayed his brothers."
"The people did not listen to Licht’s pleas, and caused him to be betrayed and slain," Killian retorted. "Schatten is punished for so disrespecting and disregarding its Lord. You have no right to come and interfere in another’s world."
Sasha shrugged. "I am free to do as I choose, and I choose to save Schatten. Everyone should have a choice in life, and the people of Schatten do not."
"You say it’s wrong to take choices away from people," Killian replied, "but what gives you the right to decide that an entire country is better free of fate? Perhaps people are happier having their choices taken from them."
No. Licht once said—before the madn—
Fritz hissed as he felt Drache go abruptly silent. "Drache! You promised!"
I am still here.
Relief flooded through Fritz. "You idiot. Why would you do that?"
Since the Great Wall was breached, his power has weakened slightly. I attempted to push. I managed far more than once I would have been able. The boy’s words are not—
"I understand," Fritz said, cutting him off before Drache suffered for attempting to help. "Drache says that Licht once would have disagreed."
Fury filled Killian’s face. "The words of a crazy fool!"
Sasha looked at him, expression cool but eyes blazing with fury. "You will be silent, boy, or I will silence you myself."
Though clearly still furious, Killian subsided.
Fritz looked at Stefan, who sat in miserable silence. Even the soothing touches Sasha bestowed did not completely wipe the unhappiness away – and Licht knew Stefan with Sasha around was completely different than when Sasha was absent.
"So what will happen after Teufel is dead?" Stefan asked quietly.
Sasha frowned in thought. "Ideally, with the darkness cast by Teufel gone, we will be able to find the heart of Licht."
Killian froze, then his head jerked up. "The heart of Licht?"
"Yes," Sasha said slowly. "When the Basilisk killed Licht, all but a single piece of Licht was completely destroyed. Such is the power of the Eyes of the Basilisk when used to their full strength. No one knows where that single piece went, though. Teufel might know, perhaps, but even if he did he would not tell us. That one piece is the heart of Licht, and with it this country can be restored."
"Impossible," Killian said.
"We shall see, I guess," Sasha replied.
Fritz frowned, not quite certain what to make of such information. The heart of Licht…
The heart, which would contain the soul, the essence. Licht…not completely dead…
The longing in Drache’s voice startled Fritz. He was surprised at the flare of jealousy which sprang up.
Licht was my Lord. You are my heart and other half.
Fritz nodded, feeling like an idiot for getting jealous over a voice that no one else could hear – and of a god who was long dead. "Perhaps I’m just tired," he muttered.
"On that note," Sasha said, "I suggest we turn in early. We can rise that much sooner and make as much progress as possible."
Fritz nodded. "A fine idea."
They all ignored Killian’s grousing, leaving the boy to do as he wanted. Fritz wondered often why he bothered to stay – except it was clear the boy was clinging to Stefan with startling tenacity.
Sometimes Fritz was almost grateful his lover was only in his head. Though perhaps that soon would change…
Sleep, my other half.
Nodding, both to Sasha and Drache, Fritz set out his bedroll and wrapped himself in his cloak, falling almost immediately to sleep, pulled there by Drache.
Fritz was surprised to find himself already abed, completely bare, sunlight from the open archways making him almost too hot.
Hotter still was the hand that touched him from behind, tracing the curves of his spine, teasing along the crack of his ass as a second hand smoothed over his bare head, warm lips pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Beloved other half…"
Shivering at the intensity of the longing in Drache’s voice, Fritz tried to turn around to face him – but Drache would not let him. "Drache…"
"Hush," Drache replied, gentle touches becoming firmer, bolder, teasing and tormenting. "I wish we could dream eternally, other half."
Moaning at Drache’s assault, shuddering in the aftermaths, Fritz struggled to form coherent thoughts and turn them into words. "Waking will be so much better, when at last we meet."
A rough, shaky, misery-drenched laugh was smothered against his shoulder.
Fritz finally turned around, startled when the usually bold, dominating Drache collapsed into his arms and held him tight.
"I wish I could tell you, other half. Alas, his hold is still too strong."
"Tell me what?"
"You will hate me."
Fritz stroked the long tail of Drache’s hair, entranced even amidst Drache’s unhappiness by the contrast of that gold hair against dark skin. "I could never hate you, Drache, as hard I have always tried. You are my other half."
Instead of calming, Drache only shuddered and held him tighter, and Fritz was astonished to feel what he realized were tears on his shoulder. He held Drache tight. "Whatever is the matter?"
"You will hate me. There is nothing I can do because I cannot speak of it. Would that I had never defied…yet I would do the same again…" Drache finally looked up, tears smudged on his cheeks, pale eyes dark with anguish. "Do not hate me too much."
Fritz frowned. "Drache…" He reached up to hold Drache’s face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You know better than I how I feel. Why are you acting so strangely? I am the whiney one, not you."
"I never thought you would make it beyond the Wall. Now we must endure the final, ultimate blow in our prolonged torture."
The words made Fritz shiver.
"Ah, beloved other half," Drache said softly, sadly, "I wish sometimes you had remained a drunkard. It would be less painful for you."
Fritz tugged him down and kissed Drache slowly, deeply, until he was dizzy with it himself. "I would rather suffer a thousand torments with you than live in peace without you."
"And I you, other half…but I will not be able to bear it when you see me, hate me."
"I will not hate you."
Drache did not reply, except to lean down and kiss him, a desperate edge to it. The world shifted, moved, though Drache did not break the kiss until they were still again. Fritz blinked, surprised to find himself on top of Drache – who always was the bolder.
Not that he would complain, for Drache was as fine and tempting beneath him as above, but he wondered why Drache was so insistent upon it now. He wasn’t given a chance to ask as Drache dragged him down for another kiss, hands smoothing over his skin, encouraging Fritz to do some touching of his own. That desperation he’d sensed earlier was thicker than ever, almost feverish in its intensity, as though they had precious little time…as if this was the last time.
Fritz broke the kiss and caught Drache’s hands, pressing them down into the bedding, too anxious now to appreciate the way Drache’s skin glowed in the sunlight. "What is wrong? This is not like you. Where are the smirks I know so well? The provocative taunts?"
Drache stared up at him, eyes full of pain, more vulnerable than Fritz had ever seen him. "I do not want to lose you, my other half, yet there is nothing I can do to prevent it."
"Scorch off," Fritz snapped, suddenly growing angry, tightening his grip on Drache’s wrists, settling his weight, refusing to let Drache so much as twitch. "My entire life I have been called crazy. I have been driven from one home after another. I wound up in the streets a lunatic drunkard. All because a voice in my head asked me to trust, to believe. I have. No matter what, Drache, I knew I had you. Even when I wanted to hate you, ignore you, be rid of you – I didn’t because I did trust you. I did believe you. No matter how crazy everyone thought I was, no matter how miserable it made me.
"Now you’re giving up on me, all because you think I am going to hate you. That’s not fair. Where’s your trust in me? Your belief in me?"
Drache shook his head back and forth. "Other half, you don’t know…"
"I have never known!" Fritz shouted, startling them both. He took a breath to calm himself. "Never, Drache, never have I known more than what you could tell me, what you do to me when I sleep. That has been enough to keep me going, to keep me believing even at my lowest. I have never given up on you – why are you giving up on me?"
"I’m not," Drache replied. "It’s just—"
"Shut up. Scorch off. Stop being so stupid." Fritz leaned down and kissed him hard, biting at Drache’s lower lip as he pulled away. "You’re giving up on me. You don’t trust me."
"Other half—"
"I don’t want to hear it," Fritz said. "The only words I want to hear from your mouth are that you will trust me as much as I have always trusted you."
Drache stared at him, then finally drew a slow, shaky breath, releasing it with far more assurance. "Very well, my beloved other half. I will trust you not to hate me when at last we meet."
"Good," Fritz said, and this time gave a kiss that was far gentler, lapping at the lip he’d bruised only moments ago. Then he smirked. "Now that I have you pinned and incapable of causing mischief…"
Sixteen
Stefan could not believe they were inside the Great Wall.
He felt as though he were walking around in a daze, or a dream.
Perhaps nightmare was more accurate. He looked at Sasha, walking a few steps ahead of the rest of them with sword drawn, wishing he could go up and hold him tight, or at least take his hand – but as much danger as they were likely in, he knew that was the worst thing he could do. He knew how to use his own sword, but…no one knew what else might be within the Great Wall.
Or when they would encounter the Holy Sentinel, said to be at least twice the size of the Great Sentinels. Though something that large, surely they would hear it coming. Even if they didn’t, Fritz would sense it.
Stefan rolled his eyes at himself. He was worried about Sents, but that wasn’t why he was upset.
He didn’t have a lot of experience with saving the world or killing near-gods or anything…but he was fairly certain the hero wasn’t supposed to die in the end.
Cursing softly, he turned his mind elsewhere.
Unfortunately, all it did was land upon a different set of thoughts concerning Sasha.
Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny. Stefan wanted to say it aloud, see how it felt to speak it. So very different from Sasha, which seemed so plain by comparison. Nikolai Aleksandr Krasny was a fancy name, an important one. Boys from tiny villages in the middle of nowhere didn’t have names like that.
What did someone who was once an advisor to a king see in someone like him? Stefan knew he’d never be able to talk to a king – or a queen, no matter how nice Sasha said she was. A queen he called by her first name. Because they were cousins.
He could just see her and everyone who was fit to be with her laughing at him, when Sasha had been in love with a king and could probably have anyone—
Snarling, Stefan reminded himself of everything that Sasha had said. That he wasn’t an advisor anymore. That he loved Stefan.
The thought was warming, and Stefan focused only on that, refusing to think of the rest of it. He hadn’t laughed at Sasha, he hadn’t told him to stop mentioning it. That made him loads smarter than a king.
He looked out over the landscape to distract himself, still incredulous at the changes wrought overnight. Where there had been nothing but an impenetrable wall of poisonous black thorns, there was now only tangles of ivy upon the ground, almost but not quite obscuring the road upon which they traveled – little more than dirt and thinner tangles of ivy, but definitively a road for all that.
Overhead the sky was as overcast as ever, but winter had broken and the air was almost pleasantly warm – by midday, it would be more than comfortable.
And weaving through all his fear was excitement. They were beyond the Great Wall. Where no one else in Schatten had ever been. All because of his Sasha.
Who wouldn’t die; Stefan refused to resign himself to that. He would find a way…though currently he was still rather at a loss. How did one fix a heart which didn’t work properly? Stefan frowned, shoulders hunching, and tried to turn his thoughts back to other things.
Yet how could he not think of Sasha? Who loved him. Who was going to die. Far from his homeland, helping a country that barely knew he existed.
Lost in his thoughts, Stefan didn’t realize they’d stopped until he crashed into something terribly familiar, caught by strong arms he knew he would never grow tired of feeling wrapped around him. "Sasha."
"You look troubled, sweet," Sasha said, stroking his cheek.
"Just…this is all overwhelming," Stefan replied. "We’re really beyond the Great Wall…though all I see is ivy and more thorns." Far off in the distance, he could see the wall of black. Sasha had said before they would likely reach it by day’s end. "Where is Verlorengehen?"
Sasha turned to look. "Beyond the thorns, I’d imagine…though if this Citadel is such a massive structure, I do admit I’m surprised we cannot see at least some of it."
"Hidden," Fritz said. "Once past the thorns, we will see it."
Stefan looked at Fritz, biting his lip in worry. Was he imagining things or had Fritz seemed troubled lately? Fritz was always the cheerful one, always making them laugh if only in the way he argued with Drache. Yet since they’d started traveling beyond the Great Wall, he’d been quiet. This was the first time he’d spoken in the past few hours. "Is that when we’ll meet Drache?" he asked, knowing that the upcoming meeting with his ‘other half’ usually cheered Fritz immensely.
Instead Fritz just looked more downcast. "Yes," he said with a soft sigh. "We will probably be there sometime early tomorrow, assuming the thorns have cleared by then."
"They should," Sasha replied. He motioned for them all to sit – the horses Fritz and Killian had taken several days ago to the nearby village, as they couldn’t be certain how the animals would react to whatever might be within the Great Wall.
Stefan gratefully complied, more than willing to rest his legs for a bit. He yawned and leaned against Sasha, wishing there was time to take a nap. How silly to want a nap when they were planning to kill Teufel. It seemed so trivial. Boring.
Though he really wouldn’t protest one. It was worse than waking up before sunrise to do chores when the first winter cold set, ruining the last memories of summer and autumn.
Fingers traced up and down his spine, soothing in their familiarity, and Stefan wished more than ever for a nap, to doze curled up with Sasha like they had all the time in the world.
Sasha laughed softly. "Do not fall asleep, sweet. I promise you waking up will be an agony. Eat something, instead. It will revive you."
Nodding, Stefan reluctantly sat up and accepted his portion of the food Fritz handed out. "I much preferred having the horses," he said with a smile.
"I as well," Fritz said, rubbing his shaved head and yawning. "If we do manage this adventure of ours, the first thing I’m going to do when we’re finished is find the largest, comfiest bed and stay in it for a week. A month." He laughed. "Mind you, I prefer this to skulking in alleyways scaring coin out of passerby and drinking myself sick – but I still am going to find that bed."
Sasha smirked. "You will have to settle for the second-largest, for I’ve already claimed the largest for myself and Stefan."
"Fair enough, I suppose," Fritz conceded. "So long as it is comfortable and I do not have to move for a month, I will be content." He made a face. "Scorch off." Somehow, the words didn’t have the levity they usually did.
Stefan frowned and ate, eyes skittering briefly to Killian, who had given up speaking entirely. More than once Stefan had started to tell him to go home, that it would probably be better…but he knew he’d be hurt if Killian had done that to him, were their positions reversed.
Besides, Killian never had problems doing precisely what he wanted. Look at how he’d stolen the horse and found Stefan…
Knuckles dusted over his cheek, the leather of Sasha’s gloves warm and slick. It was always so strange to feel those gloves by day and calloused skin by night. Stefan nuzzled into the touch. "Do you think this place could be…affecting us?" he asked. "Everyone seems so…" He shrugged.
"Solemn?" Sasha suggested. "I do not think it is that this place is doing something particular to us, more as the reality of what we’re doing tends to weigh heavy."
Stefan nodded. "That makes sense. I hope…we can all be cheerful again soon." He ducked his head, hiding from that which he did not want to face. He would not lose Sasha. He wouldn’t.
"Sweet," Sasha said quietly, gently grasping Stefan’s chin and forcing his head up, amber eyes so dark and full of emotion Stefan wasn’t sure he could bear it. "Let it go, sweet. There is nothing you can do and—"
"But it’s not fair!" Stefan burst out, knowing he was being a stupid kid but not caring. "You’re—everything. Without you I’d still be back home doing nothing, and Fritz would still be in his alleyway and we wouldn’t be here and Schatten wouldn’t get rescued and for all that you’re going to die! No matter what!" He angrily brushed away the tears that were trailing down his cheeks without permission. "It’s not fair."
"Stefan…" Sasha kissed him, and Stefan wanted to stay angry, he did, but Sasha’s kisses made him forget everything. He suspected a Sent could be sneaking up behind him and he wouldn’t notice even when it bit him if he was kissing Sasha at the time.
When he was finally permitted to breathe, Stefan noticed Fritz and Killian had gone ahead without them.
"You have to let it go, sweet," Sasha said softly, stroking his hair and face.
"It’s not fair," Stefan whispered.
"Many things are not fair in life," Sasha replied. "Perhaps it’s the price I pay for being free of the threads of fate."
Stefan shook his head in silent disagreement. It wasn’t right. He wouldn’t let it happen. He’d—
"Sweet," Sasha said firmly, the sharp tone jarring, startling Stefan into looking up – but the eyes that watched him were filled only with tenderness. "Please, Stefan. Don’t do this. I spent my entire life choking on the same bitterness that’s slowly overtaking you. I beg of you – let it go. Promise me that whatever happens, you won’t be bitter and angry. I don’t want that for you."
"You shouldn’t have to—"
A finger was pressed to his lips. "Sweet, please."
Stefan closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly, hating the way his eyes burned. He wasn’t a kid, he wouldn’t cry. Sasha and Fritz never cried about anything, and neither did Killian. "Sasha…" He finally looked up. "I don’t want you to die. It’s not right. I can’t just…"
"Yes, you can," Sasha replied, and gathered him close, caressing and soothing. "For me, please."
"That’s not fair," Stefan said, almost but not quite laughing. "You’re cheating."
Sasha sighed and pulled back, slick leather of his gloves sliding across Stefan’s cheeks as he wiped more tears away. "I’m not trying to be unfair, sweet. But I meant what I said…I’ve spent my whole life hating everything because one man turned me down. It took me far too long to see that he was a coward, longer still to let go of my anger – and that I did too late." Sasha wiped away another stray tear, then pressed a kiss to the spot. "His name was Zorya," he said quietly. "He was a good king, but hid personal fears and weaknesses behind his crown. I spent too many years of my life hating him for laughing at me, refusing to see he was just scared and weak. I turned bitter. I will carry the remnants of that bitterness the rest of my life. It’s what I am now, or was before I found you. Zorya and I…we were friends, as children, and then grew apart. I was bitter and he was weak. They are not compliments. Bitterness should always be paired with something sweet."
The significance of that took a moment to hit, but when it did Stefan could only stare, then cling more tightly to Sasha than ever. "I’m not sweet, not really. I’m just a baby. I’m sorry."
"There is nothing for which you must apologize, sweet," Sasha replied softly, tilting his head up and kissing him softly. "All things considered, you have dealt with this remarkably well. The right thing would have been to send you back to Maja…but I am glad you are here with me, though I regret the pain it causes you."
Stefan laughed shakily. "You always talk so prettily, I should have caught on to your being a prince sooner. I always knew you were far above me."
"No, sweet," Sasha said, shaking his head and laughing softly. "I’m not a prince, and I didn’t want anyone to know my lineage. It doesn’t matter. I wish I could get that through your head." He tousled Stefan’s hair.
"But if you hadn’t come to Schatten…" He’d still be a silly boy wishing for more than a farmer’s life and not knowing that what he really wanted was a red-haired prince with dark gold eyes and a touch that burned.
Sasha shook his head. "Irrelevant. The point is that I did come. All that matters now is that you not fall into anger and bitterness when I am gone. Promise me you won’t."
It took every bit of strength and willpower he had to nod and look Sasha in the eyes. "I do not like it, but I promise, Sasha."
"Thank you," Sasha replied. He stood up and held out a hand, which Stefan gratefully took.
Stefan yawned. "It seems stupid to think about a nap at a time like this, but that’s really all I want. Though I’m so anxious I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway."
Sasha laughed. "I assure you, sweet, that even at the most dire moments I have longed for nothing so badly as a nap." He ruffled Stefan’s hair, stroked his cheek, and then led them slowly toward the others, once more drawing his sword.
They caught up to Fritz and Killian a few minutes later, and continued to walk in silence, tension growing as they drew ever nearer to the wall of thorns. "How far from the wall is the city?" Stefan asked. "It seems so far away…"
"It’s not more than a day’s journey," Fritz answered, obviously relaying what was told to him by Drache. "Once, when the roads were here and in good condition, the traveling went much faster. There were always performers and bazaars and festivals going on in the open land around Sonnenstrahl."
Stefan nodded, wondering what that must have been like. If it could be that way again. He thought it might be possible – he knew dozens of people back home who would love such a thing. "Just like the books I used to read at night?"
"Very likely," Sasha replied. "A festival would be fun. There are festivals back home. My favorite, actually, was always the autumn festivals. When there is still sunshine, and the weather is just cold enough to light fires and stay outside late without freezing to death. When I was younger, I’d sneak off to the peasant festivals just because they were more fun than the royal ones."
Killian sneered, but did not bother to voice his thoughts.
"What sorts of things did you do at your festivals?" Stefan asked, eager to keep Sasha talking about his life and home. "We always cook a lot, and everyone is free from all but the most necessary chores for the day."
Sasha smiled. "I did not have chores, but I had lessons on very nearly everything and my parents did not let me skip or hasten them. When they were done, though, I skipped away." His smile turned sad for a moment, but was gone almost as quick as it had appeared. "There was food, but mostly singing around the fires. Even when we thought destroying Zhar Ptitka necessary, we continued to sing around the bonfires." Sasha shrugged.
"What did you sing?"
"Oh, at the royal festivals it was only music…the peasants though…they sang old folk songs, ballads of ancient figures of Pozhar. Tales of Ivan and the Wolf, the Lost Gypsies…they sang hymns, too, long ago. Old prayers that are only now beginning to reappear. Pozhar once took its prayers quite seriously."
"Prayers?" Stefan asked softly.
"Yes," Sasha said. "Words of thanks, of request, or simply of comfort. The Sacred Firebird is a god of fire and of rebirth, so most of our prayers revolve around those themes, though we also have words for other things."
The expression on Sasha’s face made Stefan smile and ache. It made him smile because Sasha looked so happy and it made him ache because Sasha looked very much as though he’d lost something.
Stefan had always wanted to see other places, to see the world he knew existed somewhere but would never be able to reach…but at the back of his mind had always been the belief that if he managed it, someday he would return home.
There would be no returning home for Sasha, and it made Stefan want to cry all over again. "What—what are some of your prayers?"
Sasha looked at him, but seemed to sense Stefan didn’t want to be pressed. "Hmm…I thank the fire that made me, I thank the fire that feeds me, I thank the fire that lives in me, and the fire that frees my soul. That is one, a general prayer of gratitude to be said each evening before bed. Though your face may change a thousand times, your smile remains the same. That’s more a saying than a prayer, but it was once a parting prayer…sort of well-wishing when someone left. Those who are loved are never forgotten, as those who love never forget. A piece of a funeral prayer."
The words were pretty, though Stefan didn’t quite get all of them, but…they didn’t affect him the way they clearly affected Sasha. "I wish we had prayers like that," he said sadly. "The most we do is thank Teufel for caring for us in Licht’s absence."
"If you call this care," Sasha said.
"He could have left the children of Licht to die," Killian said coldly. "It would have served them right, for driving Licht to such depths of misery and despair."
Sasha shook his head. "We disagree, Killian, and that is that. I will not get into another argument with you. If you dislike what we do so much, I suggest you go home before it is too late."
"No," Killian snarled. "I want to watch you fail."
"Killian!" Stefan snapped. "That’s enough."
Sneering, Killian never the less fell silent.
Stefan hugged himself, wishing his misery would ease, knowing it wouldn’t. "I wish we had prayers like that," he repeated softly.
"I see the sun in the sky," Fritz said slowly, carefully, "and bow my head to the ground. The rocks and the trees and the beasts have shadows, and those shadows are proof the sun shines down upon us. My own shadow I do not see…for I am a child of Licht…the greatest proof that He exists, and shines down upon us all." Fritz shook his head and grimaced. "That gave me a headache, you idiot."
"How did you manage that?" Sasha asked.
Fritz shook his head. "I do not know…Drache says perhaps Teufel has no problem with prayers…or perhaps he knows full well we’ll never tell anyone else."
Stefan shivered at that. "It’s still pretty. Proof of Licht…"
"Quite," Sasha agreed.
In all their talking, Stefan had failed to notice they’d finally reached the wall of black thorns that Sasha’s magic had not yet turned to ivy. They were menacing, frightening, worse even than the Great Sentinels somehow.
"So we wait until tomorrow?" he asked.
Sasha nodded. "Yes. We’ve little choice in…" His voice trailed off as right before their eyes the tangle of black thorns began to shiver, shudder…and move. Slowly they began unwinding themselves, as if being carefully unknotted by unseen hands. "Fire and ash, what is going on?"
Killian stepped forward. "Maybe Teufel is inviting us in."
"I doubt it," Sasha replied. "More like it’s a trap."
They fell silent as they watched the thorny vines continued to untangle, and Stefan did not know how much time passed as they stood there watching, tension thick in the air, until at last the vines stopped moving.
Before them now was a path – a street of dark stone, leading to what seemed to be the remains of an old gate not too far away. Everything was dark, even the sky above them. Had night fallen already? Stefan shuddered and hugged himself again, jumping slightly when an arm landed across his shoulders, relief and his own absurdity flooding him when he realized it was only Sasha.
"See?" Killian repeated. "It’s an invitation."
"Or a trap," Sasha snapped. "If those vines decide to close again while we’re in there, we will not be able to escape. I do not care to end up like that after working so hard to get to this point."
Stefan followed where Sasha pointed – and recoiled.
Tangled in the vines, perhaps revealed when they’d been uncoiling, was a skull, black thorns poking through the eye sockets, the top of the head, the mouth. He shuddered and did not protest when Sasha held him close.
Killian sneered and turned away. "I’m going in." With that he bolted, sprinting down the open walkway, ignoring the shouts and bellows that chased after him, waving as he reached the gate at the opposite end – then he vanished altogether.
"He…Killian…" Stefan could only stare at the spot where his best friend had been. "I can’t believe…"
Sasha’s lip curled. "When I find that selfish brat, I am going to treat him to a lashing. He thinks of no one but himself." He sighed. "I guess that means we had best attempt the vines."
"Drache says…he does not think the vines will kill us."
"Very well then," Sasha said. Sheathing his sword, he drew his whip and held it coiled but ready, then stepped forward to lead the way through the vines. "I say we take it at a run all the same. Ready? Then go!"
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Date: 2007-06-25 09:51 am (UTC)And the tension grows thick! The heart of Licht, hm? Since Drache serves Licht, and Drache and Fritz are one, then I guess we could cross out Fritz. Gonna puzzle it out later ^^
Killian is a BRAT. I know he suffers from unrequited love and all, but he makes it hard for anyone to like him.
I can't wait til next week >.<
~sketch
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Date: 2007-06-25 09:54 am (UTC)It's crazy how well you build up the suspense!
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Date: 2007-06-25 11:07 am (UTC)FINALLY I know why you wrote that it sounded incomplete back in BB. ^______^
You know, Chaos is a bit different than the rest of the series. I don't exactly know why, but something about the tone. . . . It's good. A bit quieter. More . . . thoughtful, maybe.
|Meduza|
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Date: 2007-06-25 11:22 am (UTC)This chapter is something like a fairytale. A group of adventurers going off to rescue some
damselgod in distress.no subject
Date: 2007-06-25 11:35 am (UTC)and I have to go back to the Firebird part of the story and re-read ....and...have you been told recently?...you rock...thank you M
oh yes I joined the holidaysmut lj, the drabbles are just great...'tis fun reading what you guys produce...I have to go back and send lots of thank yous.....but today is my first day online after a week without a PC
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Date: 2007-06-25 12:14 pm (UTC)You're killing me here.
Can I pop you into some alternative space time continuum,so you'll produce the rest of this tale immediately, if not sooner?
*hopeful grin*
This is excellent, as always...but the feeling of tension is amazing.
*applauds*
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Date: 2007-06-25 01:27 pm (UTC)*pouty* I wants summore please.
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Date: 2007-06-25 01:45 pm (UTC)Maderr, what can I say? Ya did it again. But Killian really does need a punch upside the head for his stupidity.
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Date: 2007-06-25 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-25 02:43 pm (UTC)as much as i want next week to come, i can't believe that four weeks and lost gods will be over. OVER!?
...well, there's always black magic and meant to be.
damn, i wish i had time to re-read poision and get the legend straight. arg, knowing there are clues and being unable to go find them!!
thankee!!
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Date: 2007-06-25 02:56 pm (UTC)Fritz/Drache is the holy sentinel, but maybe the other is Litch's holy....Something. I keep thinking Drache is Litch's ... Holy something.
Killian is totally a spy/bad guy for Tuefel.
I KNOW Stefen will be king. 'Cause the fortune lady was like 'fall in love with a king' and I'm like 'OMG STEFEN'S IMPORTANT!!!!'
Stefen is going to take the place of Tuefel, and Sasha is going the take Litch's heart for his own and become the god of light. I KNOW IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN, I DO, I DO!!
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Date: 2007-06-25 03:39 pm (UTC)P#(%*&@P(#V%*N. Killian puzzles me so much. Incredibly so. Maybe I'm just blind and dumb, but I can't figure that kid out for the life of me. Unless he's going to try and keep fate going, but his time with Sasha would've slightly derailed any fate that Killian had going for him (which may have been falling in love with Stefan and Stefan falling in love with him.... x.x;;). But Sasha's presence could've also derailed a more benevolent fate for Killian and pushed him towards a not so nice one.... guh.
Stefan = heart of Licht? Especially since he's the night under which things are hidden?
Gah. Only four weeks. So much time. ;_;
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Date: 2007-06-25 03:50 pm (UTC)Awesome work as always! Chaos is one of the things I look most forward to at the beginning of the week. *_*
I wonder if you're hinting at another story/drabble with Pohzar's Lost Gypsies folk song. I can't seem to recall any stories mentioning them.
Mmm more Lost Gods goodness... /drool
-Jam
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Date: 2007-06-25 04:31 pm (UTC)PS-- I reread Treasure just for Krasny. And I can see Sasha in him. XD
|Meduza|
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Date: 2007-06-25 04:54 pm (UTC)But it would be an interesting twist.
(Sorry I haven't commented in awhile, life's picked up. I want to write a more in depth commentary on Poison, though . . . so when I get the time that should come up.)
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Date: 2007-06-25 06:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-25 08:33 pm (UTC)1) Drache is the Heart of Licht.
or
2) Sasha will recieve the Heart of Licht and become a God.
3) Stefan will become King Of Schatten yayz!
4) Killian is a Minion of Teufel bent on KILLING THEM ALL ohnoez!
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Date: 2007-06-25 10:06 pm (UTC)I completed it in BB too. Dym says it in part two I think.
^^;; I could never peg it either, but it felt a bit different writing as well.
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Date: 2007-06-25 10:13 pm (UTC)Heh. I'll put it on my list. That would certainly be a challenge ^_^
Hee ^____^ Yay!
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Date: 2007-06-25 10:15 pm (UTC)'bout Chaos -- I think it's different because there's more at stake. It's no longer a grand adventure, but something very real and very dangerous where the main character is likely to die. You played with it with the rest {mostly Treasure and BB}, but only in Chaos you actually put the most weight to death.
The colours I get from your stories are amazing. Treasure is pale blue and yellow, BB is orange-red-yellow, SR is grey {with shadows!}, Poison is pink and white, and now Chaos is mostly black {still with shadows}, but with stark white.
. . . just me rambling away my geekiness. :)
|Meduza|
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Date: 2007-06-25 10:53 pm (UTC)What was Killian thinking? I mean, I understand that he's depressed and extremely jealous of Sasha, but still. That was sort of extremely stupid. Hope he survives to learn from his mistakes . . .
I really like Fritz and Drache in this section. I want to hear more about them!
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Date: 2007-06-26 01:00 am (UTC)These chapters were lovely. I'm all wibbly over Drache's and Stefan's pain over their future losses. I hope they both get to keep their loves!!
Can't wait for more!
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Date: 2007-06-26 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-26 11:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-26 08:19 pm (UTC)Super-hyper-crazy-theory-of-doom: Maybe when Licht became crazy Teufel tried to stop him… and Licht in his crazyness puniched him. Then he could have… let's say broken his soul in two, sealed one in Verlorengehen as Drache and the other would be Fritz (but since Drache always talk from Teufel as someone else this theory is already pretty much doomed but I continue nontheless since it could come from Drache not wanting them to hate him or Licht could be the one keeping him from speaking).
I don't see how the sentinels could have suddenly appeared, maybe out of biterness what was left of Licht (Licht's heart) created them.
I agree with the others who told that Sasha would innerit the heart of Licht and so wouldn't die and that Stephan will become the next kink of Shaten though.
There. I wonder how many miles from the thruth I am (and where this piece that makes all the above completely wrong is written because I can't remember for the life of me in which book it was written o.O)
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Date: 2007-06-28 11:01 pm (UTC)Four more weeks... good/bad!
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Date: 2007-06-29 04:26 pm (UTC)Killian is not my favourite character :p though I doubt he is meant to be that way, seems to me a bit like one of Teufel's minions or something of the sort.
Cliffhangers aren't fun at all :p
~Khris~