The funeral procession wended its way along the trail, visible from a distance as little more than a sluggish line of torches moving antlike through the darkness. They watched the line trickle down from Topaza castle toward the traditional burial grounds of the family a few hectares away. It was almost unheard-of in these days: a Sorcerer funeral that was well-attended by the common folk of the Sorcerer's territory. But Rimon Topaza had been respected and even loved by his people. There would be grieving in these lands for some time.
"Never seen a funeral at night before," Carrot murmured, his eyes catching the faint glimmers of torchlight. Chocora shrugged.
"Me, neither. Every region's got its weird traditions, I guess."
Carrot nodded, sighing. "Two days. I can't believe we missed him by only two days."
"That's good, though, ne? We know we're close. Carunirian's lands aren't far from here, and we know that's where he's going."
He made a noncommittal sound of agreement, although in truth he was excited. And frightened. Confirmation had been anticlimactic, when they'd finally received it. The Sorcerer's wife had been painfully blunt in her grief, and had told them that not only was Carrot's brother indeed alive and well, but also that Marron was a murdering psychopath who had left her a widow and her children fatherless. It had not been a pleasant scene.
Chocora sighed, turning her horse back toward the trail. "Come on. We should stable the horses for the night and sleep in a bed for a change. I'm tired of wearing a layer of road-dust."
"Aa." He stifled the urge to protest, although every inch of him wanted to push on through the night if it meant the possibility of catching up with Marron. The horses were exhausted and they were too, and willpower alone wouldn't sustain him if he tried to make up a two-day lead in his current condition. At least, he consoled himself, they knew where they were going now.
Chocora glanced at him, reading his expression; the moon was full and high in a cloudless sky, and her own face was a bas-relief study of thoughtfulness in the pale light. "I think I could make it to the next town, if you want. It's a straight road from here and not far; the horses could handle it. If you really want to push on."
He blinked in surprise. Then smiled. "Aa. Thank you."
She nodded, smiling faintly, and said nothing for a while as they rode through the town. It was quiet, although the night was young; most of the townsfolk had gone to the funeral, and the rest were settling in for the night. A subdued aura hung over the whole village, and under that aura they felt no urge to speak themselves.
It was an aura that did not begin to lift until long after they'd passed the territory's borders, leaving the town and its grief behind.
Marron was sleeping. For once peacefully---or apparently so. What was he dreaming? The nightmares with which he should, rightfully, be afflicted? The dark silence that was all he seemed able to muster? Or was he, even now, being courted again---seduced further into inhumanity and madness by the same cold part of himself that gave him the strength to pursue his vengeance?
How much longer could he last? And what would happen when his vengeance was done?
Mirufi sighed, reaching out to stroke the younger man's brow, brushing strands of midnight-dark hair away from his face. So painfully young, even by mortal standards. Too young and still too mortal to be dealing with such a problem alone. And Marron was certainly alone, despite Mirufi's presence. For all the good he'd managed to do, he might as well have given Marron a stuffed animal for comfort and sent him forth to do battle with his demons on his own.
But I promised to help you. And with Kami as my witness I will do so.
Marron did not stir. After a moment, Mirufi withdrew his hand from the boy's forehead, composing himself. It was always much easier to do this in his armor, with the catalyst that was worked into the metal boosting his natural strength, but he dared not transform. Marron was far too sensitive to outside magics. A simple projection spell, however, would arouse no suspicion; Marron knew that Mirufi made his reports to Mamu on a weekly basis. It was fortunate that a single spell would suffice for what he planned now, instead of two.
First, it was time to pay his duty to Mamu. He concentrated, and after a moment felt the familiar dizzying sensation that heralded his astral form's separation from his physical body. He attuned his will to the location he wanted, and almost smiled when he heard the familiar songs of the air elementals around him. It had been a long time since he'd been home in the flesh. But he was not home now, and there were far more important matters to concern him. He opened eyes of aether, took in his hazy surroundings, and knelt before Mamu, bowing low in his usual obeisance.
"Mirufi Yu. Okaeri." Mamu's voice soothed his worries, as it always did. He smiled in thanks for her comfort, but sobered to make his report.
"Tadaima. Mamu---" There was never any need for small talk between them. "---I am losing him."
She frowned, and sighed, lowering her eyes in disappointment. Mirufi kept his head low, apologetic. "It's no more than we expected," she reminded him gently. "We only hoped that your presence might make a difference. It has, actually. Without you, his deterioration would have proceeded much more quickly. You have bought us valuable time."
He nodded acknowledgement, feeling marginally better. "He's not yet past the point of no return," he said, urgently. "Two nights ago, after the incident at Topaza Castle, he nearly broke down." He raised his head, looking at her intently. "I request permission to actively intervene."
She fell silent for a moment, her eyes unfocusing. "Dangerous. The futures spread in two directions from a second meeting. One way leads to redemption. The other to catastrophe."
"Catastrophe is what will happen anyway if we don't do something, Mamu." It interrupted her prescient vision; he watched her blink and pull herself back to the here and now. "I don't think we have a choice. Onion would make things worse. His brother is too far behind us and won't catch up before we reach Carunirian. After Carunirian will be too late."
She sighed heavily, and nodded. "I will trust your judgment in this, Mirufi."
He nodded, and let his image fade; there was nothing more to be said. But this time he resisted the natural urge to return to his body. There was one more person he needed to speak to tonight, and quickly, before the spell could fade or Marron could awaken.
The last two days, but for the omnipresent shadow of the near future, had been as close to perfect as anything had ever been between them. Whatever melancholy had afflicted Kei after Topaza's death seemed to have evaporated by the next morning, and without his resentment hovering unacknowledged between them, Gateau found himself remembering just why he'd always found Kei's company enjoyable. Even when he wasn't drunk or horny.
"But I've heard it's fun."
"I'm not fucking you on a horse, Kei."
One of the horses in question twitched an ear, and Kei reached up to massage it gently, smirking over his shoulder at Gateau. "Why not? Chicken?"
"You little hentai." Gateau chuckled and jammed a stick into the ground beside the fire, to roast a skewered fish. "Do you have any idea how painful it would be---for both of us---if the horse spooked, or misstepped?"
"You have no sense of adventure, Gateau."
"I've lived more adventure than you'll ever see, baka-ko. You've been reading too many bad romance novels."
"Complete with muscular, dashing heroes ravishing lovely nubile virgins a-horseback. Yes."
"You were what, ten, when you lost your virginity?"
"Thirteen. He was a chicken, too. Bastard made me wait 'til I was legal."
"Ever read any novels about muscular, dashing heroes being plagued by horny, evil brats to have bizarre sex that results in one or both of them paying a visit to the surgeon before it's done?"
Kei finished up the rubdown with a gentle swat to the horse's rump, smiling as it whickered at him, and then tossed the rag to the side for washing later. "You want to pass up the time of your life, though, it's your loss." He sighed and settled on the other side of the fire, gazing hungrily at the cooking meat, and picked up a piece of dried fruit to gnaw.
Gateau finally got the last spit into place, then retreated from the fire to sit down next to Kei, hooking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. "I'm surprised you still have the energy left to think your sick little thoughts," he murmured, noting the telltale signs of weariness in the younger man's posture and face. Decisively, he sat up and turned Kei's back to face him, grasping his shoulders for a massage. Kei exhaled in pure hedonistic pleasure as Gateau's hands soothed away a day's worth of tension. "I've been doing this for years, and I'm so tired I can barely see straight."
"Thinking about sex helps take my mind off how much I hurt," Kei retorted, and now Gateau could hear the weariness in his lover's voice. "And how hungry I am, and how much I miss my nice bed back in Oregano, and how much I miss being just horny instead of horny and miserable. It keeps me from complaining, thank you very much, so please let me think my sick little thoughts and leave me alone."
Gateau chuckled. "Hai, hai."
They ate in silence, hunger overwhelming any urge they might have had to talk further. When the meal was done, Kei promptly flopped down on one of the bedrolls Gateau had laid out and fell asleep, so quickly that Gateau would have feared illness had he not known how bone-deep tired his lover was. Kei had held up well, but there had been nothing in his previous life's experience to prepare him for this kind of travel.
Affectionately, he knelt beside Kei's pallet and drew a blanket over him, tucking it in and smoothing the unruly hair, made more unruly by lack of cozening. Then, laying out his own bedroll next to Kei's, he grabbed another blanket, rolled up his boots in his vest to make a lumpy, hard pillow, and lay down. Sleep crept over him, slowly, and he welcomed it.
A finger touched his throat, trailed slowly down over his collarbones, sensuous and promising. He shivered despite his weariness, and chuckled a little. Kei could put a rabbit to shame. "Quit it," he murmured, not opening his eyes. "I have a headache, hentai-ko."
"Best cure for a headache is sex."
The voice was lilting, amused---and definitely not Kei's. Gateau started awake, tensing. Mirufi Yu smiled down at him.
He scrambled to sit up. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I missed you, too." Mirufi rose from his crouch and made his way to the other side of the fire, seating himself on a boulder. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and smiled obliquely. "Come on, Gateau. It's been years since we've seen each other. Is that all you have to say to me?"
Gateau forced himself to relax, with difficulty. "Konbanwa. Now what the hell are you doing here?" His eyes narrowed. "I heard you were traveling with Marron."
Mirufi gave him a faint, relaxed smile. "I am. It's why I'm here, I should say, since that seems to be all that concerns you." He smirked, and Gateau flushed guiltily, throwing a glance at Kei, who slumbered on beside him.
He glared at Mirufi in silence and waited. Mirufi lifted an eyebrow and chuckled.
"Stubborn as ever, I see. All right, then. We'll dispense with the small talk. I don't have much time, anyhow." He took a deep breath, sobering with such abruptness that Gateau wondered which was the affectation---the smile, or the worry that was suddenly plain in his expression. "I need your help."
Gateau stared at him, then burst out laughing bitterly, shaking his head. "I don't believe this. I don't see you in how many years, you come into my camp and scare the hell out of me, and---"
"He's going to die, Gateau."
Gateau fell silent.
Mirufi nodded. Sighing---wearily, it seemed to Gateau---he spread his hands. "I shouldn't say that. He won't die, technically. His body will live on, we think, but in an altered form. But his consciousness and personality---all of the things that make him Marron---will be gone. I'm not even sure I know how to explain it."
Whether Mirufi was deliberately trying to be cryptic or not, Gateau could not tell. "Try."
"This may not be easy for you to hear. How much do you know about what happened at the school, three years ago?"
He frowned, ignoring the sudden tension in the pit of his stomach. He made himself speak nonchalantly. "The basics, and what I was there to see. The Conclave attacked the school. The headmaster was... killed. Marron wasn't, but there was an explosion..." He frowned, and sighed. "I'm not sure how we escaped. But Marron was still there when it happened. We all thought he'd died."
Mirufi nodded and sighed. "That's partly my fault. He was lucid---sort of---for a little while after the explosion, and I decided to heed his wish that I not contact any of you." He sighed, lifting a hand to push back some of his wavy hair. "Yes, the Conclave attacked the school. Fortunately, Zeii---that's the headmaster of the school---got the school evacuated before the defenses were breached. Unfortunately, there was a problem getting Marron out, and Zeii exhausted himself. Both of them were captured. You saw what happened to Zeii."
Gateau nodded, grimly, remembering the bloodied corpse on that horrible rack. So now the poor bastard had a name. "Go on."
Mirufi did, speaking quickly. "You saw what happened after that. The explosion you saw was caused by Marron himself."
Frowning, Gateau shook his head. "He's never been that powerful. Half the damn mountain was leveled."
"He's significantly more powerful than he used to be. Then, he was new to his power, but already more than strong enough to level a mountain. Or two. The reason he went back to the school was to undergo a ritual of transformation. The ritual has three possible outcomes: death, insanity, and immortality, the last with a significant boost in magical power. The third thing is what happened to Marron."
His mind was hazy, perhaps with sleep; he shook his head, unable to grasp what he was hearing. "That doesn't make sense. Why---" He took a deep breath. "I don't believe that. He would have told us if he was going to risk his life like that."
"No." And for a moment Mirufi's expression became compassionate. "He should have told you, but he didn't. I suppose he didn't want to worry you---justifiably. I don't know. There have been mistakes made, here, Gateau, by a lot of different people; Marron's aren't the least among them. Suffice it to say that he got lucky---no. Surviving the ritual isn't about luck. He's strong; that's why he made it. I think Zeii must have guessed that beforehand. It's the only thing that explains why he allowed Marron to fall in love with him."
A blow, and a painful one at that, not at all lessened by the fact that it was no more than he'd guessed already. Gateau's hand tightened on the blanket.
Mirufi's voice echoed in his ears, gently. "I'm sorry. Truly. I don't have time to cushion your feelings, though, so---" He took a deep breath. "Marron survived the ritual and became a Mage. He's immortal now, and very powerful. Magic is a part of him, far more than it ever was before, it's changed him a great deal. Not just physically."
Gateau shook his head, forcing himself to focus on what Mirufi was saying; his mind felt sluggish, dazed. "I don't understand---"
"You understand enough," Mirufi said brusquely, cutting him off. "If you want to know more you can ask him yourself. That's why I've come. I want to arrange a meeting between you and him."
Gateau stared at him, his eyes widening.
"We'll reach Carunirian's in three days. In two days, though, I'm going to convince him to stop overnight at a hot spring that's along our route to the south. Get there by then and you can talk to him."
"Talk to him..." He looked down at his hands. They sat in tight fists on his knees, shaking ever so slightly.
But then he frowned. "You want me to convince him to stop hunting down the Conclave members? I tried that. He ignored me and killed Topaza anyway. I don't think reason is going to work. I... have to fight him." He steeled himself, keeping his expression grim. "He's pushing the Sorcerers' Council into a war. And---it's not right. It's one thing to kill an evil Sorcerer, but he's never..."
"He was never sadistic and cruel before, I know. He's not now, Gateau." Mirufi shook his head at Gateau's skeptical look. "He's not. He--- gods. I don't know if it even has an explanation. There's a bond between people that love each other. It's there for everyone, but for people who use magic, because we spend so much time in the realm of the heart and the mind, that connection is... stronger. When it's broken... things can go wrong." He sighed. "Marron and Zeii loved each other for years. Love like that is rare for immortals; it's difficult for mortals to understand what it's like---"
"Shut up." He growled the words before he was even aware of his own anger. He pushed himself up from the sleeping mat and stood over Mirufi, glowering, his fists clenched. Mirufi gazed up at him impassively, unafraid and unflinching. Abruptly, he felt his face flush in shame.
Flustered, he forced himself to relax, took a deep breath, and tried again, feeling the need to explain himself. "Listen---I don't care about the rest of this. Tell me what I need to know, Mirufi. Where has he been all this time? What's wrong with him? Why did you say he was going to die, damn it? That's what I---that's all I need to know."
Mirufi watched him for a long moment, his amber eyes oddly colorless in the red-gold light of the fire. He reached out and touched Gateau's hand.
A small cottage in the forest.
Mirufi walked up the hill, swinging a sack of fruit and a dead goose. Countless hunts, countless homecomings, for weeks, months, years. Perhaps it would be years more before things changed. It was a pleasant enough existence, in its own way. He did not mind.
The cottage was isolated in the midst of the forest, but not without life. Indeed, after so much time--it had almost become a home. Carvings and fresh paint adorned its doors and windowsills. Flowers bloomed at the base of its walls and windows, and the vegetable patch in the front yard was producing its second crop. On good days, he brought his companion out to sit amid the beauty. Hoping, perhaps, that something as simple as a flower might one day penetrate the darkness.
Thus far it had not happened. But he was patient.
He called a greeting as he entered the house. There was no answer, as usual. He continued chattering away anyhow, aware that the house's other occupant would probably never answer. Whether his one-sided conversation was even heard was anyone's guess. As he dropped off his supplies in the kitchen, he complained about the events of the day, the trouble he'd had catching the goose, his plans for cooking dinner---small talk, ordinary conversation. Sensory stimulation was important. Such normalcy had its own power, sometimes.
Having cleared his hands, he headed toward the bedroom to check on his charge; it was almost time for their afternoon exercise. But before he could reach the bedroom he slowed, then stopped, alerted by an instinct he'd developed over the last few centuries. Something was different about the house.
He scanned the cottage's interior. Everything was as he had left it; nothing seemed displaced. But there was a subtle difference in the environment, a kind of density that had nothing to do with the air pressure or the weather. The cottage usually felt empty, despite the constant presence of his silent housemate. Ah, but that was what had changed. The emptiness has been filled. By a Presence.
Worriedly, he hurried to the bedroom and opened the door.
The bed was empty. He had only a moment to register that anomaly before his eyes were drawn to the figure standing at the window. A man: tall, black-haired, slender. Marron? No. The man turned at Mirufi's entrance. His face was a thing of beauty---perfectly balanced between masculine and feminine, aquiline and serene. Marron's face---and not. So beautiful that it would have taken Mirufi's breath away... had he not realized immediately that nothing human could be so perfect. There was a sternness and perfection to the graceful features like nothing Mirufi had ever seen. The unnatural depth of wisdom and knowledge in the unreflecting black eyes was devastating in its power. In its utter lack of emotion.
This was not a man. His skin was suffused with a pale, steady aura that highlighted the impossible symmetry and beauty of his form. And there was nothing human, nothing of mercy or compassion or generosity or warmth, in those eyes.
He said nothing, only stood there, and his Presence filled the room with such power and force that it seemed the walls could barely contain him. The whole of the world, Mirufi suddenly realized, dazed, might not be enough to contain such power.
He stopped and stared. The apparition was there only for a moment. Then the glow disappeared, the Presence faded, and the black eyes closed; when they opened again there was only an all-too-human confusion and disorientation in place of the lightless pools of a moment before. In a moment even that was gone. The eyes rolled backward and their owner fell, limp and unconscious, to the floor.
The long waiting was over. Later, Marron awakened, spoke for the first time in months, and moved of his own volition. He showed no further sign of the apparition that Mirufi had witnessed. But the Other was there, Mirufi knew. Awake as well, and growing stronger within the young Mage. It was only a matter of time...
He was back, standing by the fire. Mirufi released his hand.
Slowly, frowning, he looked around. "What... was that? A vision?"
"A dream within a dream." Mirufi smiled gently.
Gateau scowled. "All right. What did that--- dream--- mean, then?"
"It's what's wrong with Marron. It's what he's becoming." Mirufi sighed and ran fingers through his hair, worriedly. "Zeii's death... nearly destroyed him. What's driving him isn't ordinary grief. It's the huge, gaping tear in his soul. So deep that it drove him into himself to lick his wounds for months. Years. He was catatonic from the last day you saw him until about six months ago. For two and a half years he didn't move, didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't even control his bodily functions; he was a dead man with a beating heart and open eyes, and that was it. I took care of him. What I showed you was the day he woke up."
Gateau stared at him in disbelief. "Two and a half---" He frowned. "Then what was..." He shivered as he remembered the feeling of Presence.
"I don't know for certain. I have my suspicions. But for all I know it could be a demon that took advantage of an opportunity, moved into his body while his mind was away, and set up house. An evil Sorcerer, maybe. Or it could be some sort of magic---there are forms of Kinjyu, for example, which mimic the effects of demonic possession, consuming the host's personality like a parasite..." He shook his head, wearily. "I don't know. But you've seen how he is now. Cold. Silent. Cruel enough to torture a man to death without batting an eyelash. He's been like that since he woke up. Getting worse as time passes."
He looked up, his eyes suddenly boring into Gateau's. "The only time I've ever seen that ice crack was the day before yesterday. After he saw you. It was only for a little while, but he was frightened, unhappy, confused, upset... I haven't seen him so... so human, since before Zeii died. You brought the real him out, if only for a few minutes. I've tried everything and I haven't been able to do as much. I know when it's time to ask for help."
Gateau frowned, remembering the chilly mask of Marron's face in Topaza's throne room.
Something's broken in him, Kei had said. There's no room for love in a heart like that.
He turned away, pacing, and then stopped and turned back. "Why me? Why not his brother, or his father? Or hell---Chocora or Tira, they at least grew up with him. He doesn't give a damn about me, Mirufi. If I affected him, maybe it was just the sight of a familiar face. There are lots of other familiar faces out there more likely to get through to him."
Mirufi watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Because it's possible to love more than one person," he said softly, his voice carrying easily in the silence.
Gateau stared back at him. He could think of nothing to say in reply.
"The night after next," Mirufi continued, his expression still solemn, his eyes still intent. "The hot springs to the south. Don't let your stubbornness decide this one, Gateau. More lives than just his hang in the balance."
Gateau opened his eyes and sat up with a start.
The fire had burned down to a smolder, glowing only faintly; the camp was dark. In the distance, the faintest tinge of paler blue hung in the sky, presaging the coming of dawn. It was cold. All around him he could hear the faint sounds of the night's creatures, chirring and croaking and creeping.
Kei stirred and turned over, his voice thick with sleep. "Nan da."
Gateau blinked. Mirufi was gone. A visitation? His own imagination? He had no way of knowing.
"Nothing," he murmured. "The fire's just died. Go back to sleep."
"Uhn." Kei needed no more prompting than that, rolling over and curling up on his side.
Gateau got up, went to their store of firewood, and crouched beside the embers of the fire, stoking it again until the flames were high enough to drive back the chill and the darkness. When it was burning well, he sat back on his heels and watched the flames dance.
**End Ch. 14