Worlds of Blue and White
Part One: With Fingertips Touching
Chapter 6: Reversion
As soon as Allen exited the guymelef hanger he encountered Gaddess. “She’s not in there,” he said evenly, not halting in his pace as he started back toward the castle.
Gaddess fell into step beside him. “You’re pretty calm considering she ran off,” he remarked. “Or are you about to kill something?”
“I’m all right.” Though the words sounded truthful, they came a bit too quickly. “This isn’t the first time Celena’s snuck out without telling me--she’s a responsible girl who’s always acted independently. I trust her.”
“But….”
Allen sighed. “But yes, I’m still worried. She could be any number of places, with any number of people. It’s not her I don’t trust--it’s what might happen.” His expression deepened. “And the melef overseer says that Jovey didn’t report today. I don’t trust him.”
They returned to the castle and found Van, who was busy preparing for the festival that night. The maids were scurrying about like bees. “I have some guards looking for her,” Van assured the knight as his hair was combed and arranged. “Did you check the hanger?”
“Yes, and she’s not there,” Allen replied with worry. “Jovey isn’t, either. Do you think he knows about her?”
“Hmm.” Van looked thoughtful for a moment, then suddenly declared, “That’s right. Jovey always leaves on festival days. I know where he is.” He stood and abandoned the maids, who hurried after him with concerned murmurs. He ignored them, retrieving a piece of paper and drawing ink. “He’ll probably be here,” he explained, quickly sketching Fanelia’s border and the location of a small grove. “The place he and I fought. He goes there every year. There’s no telling if Celena’s with him, though.”
Allen frowned. “I have a feeling she is,” he muttered, tucking the crude map into his shirtfront. “Thank you, Van. Don’t worry about us at all.” Signaling to Gaddess, he turned and quickly strode out of the room once more.
--
Jovey was staring at Dilandau Albatou.
He rubbed his eyes, convinced that he was dreaming and that the form of his leader would soon vanish--or, at least return to Celena’s image. But his sight proved to be no lie. Huddled before him was a tall, slender teenage boy, his hair grown and skin pale, accented by his bright red eyes and a strip of fresh blood down his right cheek.
It’s him. It’s really him. How--why--what happened? “Lord Dilan--“
The boy turned suddenly away from him and vomited. Jovey averted his eyes respectfully, unsure as to whether or not he should offer assistance. He felt dizzy and unstable, even as he was sitting. When his leader’s nausea seemed to have ended he asked, “Lord Dilandau, are you all right?”
“Lord…Dilandau…?” Dilandau wiped his mouth and turned away from his mess--Jovey was startled to see traces of blood on his lips. The albino fell onto his rear and leaned his back against the tree, eyes closed. He sighed and rubbed his stomach.
Jovey crept closer hesitantly. “Lord Dilandau?” he asked again diffidently. His every instinct indicated that he should bow, and he fought that impulse with some difficulty. “Can you hear me?”
Dilandau’s eyelids opened lazily. “Who’s there?” His gaze appeared to absorb nothing, like those of a weary blind man. “Where…?”
“It’s Jovey Garrelli,” he replied, even as his voice was trembling. When the boy didn’t respond, he added, “A Dragonslayer, sir, under your command.”
“Dragonslayer…” the white-haired teen murmured distantly. “Dragon…slayers. Dragon.” Gradually, his eyes began to focus. But they didn’t look at Jovey; they were cast to the distant form of Fanelia’s capital city. “Dragons….”
Something’s wrong. God, what did they do to him? “Do you remember what happened?”
Dilandau’s body seemed unnaturally still; if it weren’t for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he would have appeared a corpse. His skin’s pallor testified to this. “I…remember.” He fell silent for a moment before resuming quietly. “Fire. Blue fire. And Blood.” At last he turned his head to face the anxious youth at his side. “Jovey. Where are our Dragonslayers? The Dragon is alive, and I need them.”
Jovey sighed--relieved that he was regaining some sense, regretful of the news he must share. “They’re dead,” he replied, subdued. “Don’t you remember how they died? After the battle at Fortuna Temple.”
Dilandau didn’t respond, and when Jovey looked again he saw that his eyes were closed. “Lord Dilandau?” He…fell asleep? He sighed, dragging a hand over his own face. Damnit, what am I supposed to do? Asleep, Dilandau looked as he always had--still as death. “What did they do to you?” he whispered heart-sickly. “Why would they do this--making you his sister? Mocking you this way….” His expression hardened into pained wrath. “Not any more,” he promised. “I won’t let them. We’ll go back to Zaibach, and get help from the Sorcerers. I won’t let them use you.”
Dilandau slept on, oblivious to the oath he’d made. Nearly half an hour passed, and Jovey was beginning to consider searching for food, when he heard the sound of a horse approaching--several horses. Damn. If that’s Allen looking for his sister…. He shook his leader urgently without success in waking him. “Lord Dilandau, please wake up. We have to--“
It was already too late; three horses broke through the trees, with Allen in the lead followed by two scruffy men he didn’t recognize. There was no time to attempt an escape. The Dragonslayer instead rose to his feet to meet this challenge, swords in hand.
“Celena!” Allen took in the sight of his sister, curled among the tree roots, Jovey’s disheveled appearance, and the pool of bloodied vomit nearby. In an instant he dismounted and aimed his sword at the youth’s throat. “What have you done, you bastard?”
The knight’s tone was so uncharacteristically low that Jovey stepped back; even his own men looked startled. Jovey quickly rallied his courage. “I didn’t do anything,” he retorted hotly. He batted Allen’s sword away with his own. “And I won’t let you near him!”
Allen’s gaze quickly snapped in shock to the huddled form, looking it over more carefully. His face twisted into a look of horror. “D…Dilandau…but that means….” He pounced on the youth like a beast; their swords locked. “What the hell have you done?” he demanded. “How did this happen?”
Jovey struggled to keep the knight’s weapon at bay. “Don’t you know what’s been happening to your own sister?” he sneered. “He’s remembered who he really is.” He grinned despite himself. “The leader of the Dragonslayers.”
“Damn fool.” Allen used his superior weight to force his opponent against a nearby tree. “Dilandau isn’t real. He was created by the sorcerers as a mask for my sister!”
“Don’t you dare mock him!” Jovey forced all his strength into his right hand, freeing one of his blades and slashing at the older man’s shoulder. He danced out of reach long before it hit.
Allen took up a new stance. “I’m telling you the truth,” he insisted angrily. “Celena--my sister--was kidnapped by sorcerers, and--“
“Shut up!” Their blades clashed, passing blows back and forth until meeting in another standstill. “What the hell do you know?” he hissed over their crossed weapons. “You don’t know Lord Dilandau at all!” Again he managed to maneuver one sword free and drive Allen back.
Allen paused before attacking again. His gaze shifted constantly between his enemy and the still slumbering Dilandau. “Jovey, please listen to what I’m saying. This Dilandau--“ he pointed with his sword “--the Dilandau you know--wasn’t meant to exist. He was a false personality created to be a murderer. As one of his own, you should have realized that there was something wrong with him.”
Jovey felt his grip on his swords growing slack; as they began to fall he regained some sense, and took hold of them once more. “No…you’re wrong,” he whispered. He watched as Allen lowered his own weapon and started toward Dilandau. His voice rose to a yell. “You’re wrong, you son of a whore!”
The Knight turned upon him as soon as the words had penetrated his ears; he barely had time to defend against the attack. In a flurry of blurred metal Jovey’s left sword was wrenched from his grasp. He continued to fight without pause, dodging each vicious strike. For a moment he caught his opponent’s eyes, and the malice held in them gave him a chill. He’ll kill me if I’m not careful. He blocked another strike and tried to kick; Allen avoided without effort and, as if to mock him, fired a kick of his own. This caught Jovey in the gut, throwing him on his back. Before he could vault to his feet once more, that same boot slammed heavily into his chest. Another smashed down on his right wrist, forcing him to release his sword as he cried out in pain.
“I’ve had enough of you,” he captor growled, poking the tip of his sword into the base of the youth’s throat. “You’ll be taken into custody, and--“
“Shut up! You don’t understand.” Jovey coughed, suffering under the restriction to his lungs. He was dizzy from the earth’s blow to his skull--he spoke defiantly anyway. “We loved Lord Dilandau--all of us. He needed us to protect him, and every one of them did, up until the end. He…he must be real.” He felt as if his eyes were burning. A mask…it’s not true. It can’t be true. I won’t let it be true!
“Gatti, Chesta, Dallet Migel, Guimel, Viole--they were his brothers, and mine,” he continued, and the burning sensation overflowed onto his skin. “I won’t let you erase what they fought and died for!”
Jovey snatched the sword pointed at him and pushed with all his strength, driving it into the shin of Allen’s boot. He was thankful then for the knight’s dutiful attention to his belongings; the expertly sharpened blade sliced through the boot’s soft leather and tasted flesh. Startled by the suddenness of the attack, Allen lurched backwards, and the youth used that time to reclaim his weapon and charge. His opponent guarded well despite the injury; however, he was no longer able to use his weight as an advantage, as his foot couldn’t be trusted with added stress. The pair exchanged the positions of offense and defense several times before breaking apart.
Jovey wiped the sweat and tears from his face. He was beginning to tire--it was taking all his strength and every one of his tricks just to keep up with the Heaven Knight, and he had gained no ground. The injured leg was not proving as hindering an injury as he’d hoped. There has to be something I can do, he thought, trying to remain calm. Is there anything he can’t block?
Allen adjusted his position to make up for his leg. A moment later he advanced. Jovey blocked the initial strike and several that followed before making a move of his own: he lashed out with his foot, catching Allen’s wounded shin. Only a sharp gasp escaped his lips as a reaction to the pain.
The Dragonslayer took full advantage of the short pause. His sword hilt to the inside of Allen’s wrist disarmed him quickly. But Jovey wasn’t interested in killing him; he followed this assault with a fierce uppercut that nearly felled the older man.
As I thought. He can’t fight without a sword. Jovey didn’t relent, and was able to land one more hit to the man’s jaw and two to his gut before he recalled his wits.
Allen recovered far too quickly; his fist connected with Jovey’s unprotected stomach, conveying more force than he thought possible. Something that might have been a knee caught his gut, and then a right hook sent him on his back.
“Boss, are you okay?” Somewhere above him Jovey could hear Allen’s two crewmen asking about his condition. He moaned, gingerly probing the tender flesh along his jaw. Already it was forming a sizable bruise.
“Can you get that boot off?”
“I will, once we get back,” came Allen’s response. “Celena’s more important now.”
Jovey forced his eyes open, even thought they showed him nothing but flashing white at first. He willed them to become clear once more. Allen had his back turned and was again heading toward Dilandau, favoring his right leg. Still propped against the tree, Dilandau slept on without stirring.
“Lord…Di…landau….” Though he was fatigued and in pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The forest swam about him, then cleared to focus on Dilandau once more.
The white-haired boy’s face was arranged in a calm expression. Asleep, he took on the visage of a very young child, with his hands resting on his stomach and his legs pulled in close. His lips were slightly parted, as if filled with possibilities and waiting to form some indication of his dreams. Like the delicate innocence of fresh winter snow.
“He needs us. So please, don’t turn you backs on him now.”
Jovey hadn’t really understood what Chesta had been trying to say back then. With time he’d acquired that feeling, though--he knew that devotion. Even if he’d never been good enough to join the ranks of Dilandau’s favorites, he’d experienced the need that drove them all. This was his master--like a brother he’d pushed them, forcefully, to surpass themselves. He was their motivation and their pride, and they his silent, willing support. The rest were gone now; they had entrusted their duty to him to fulfill. There was no choice but to fight.
Jovey pushed to his feet and charged. He didn’t know what he intended to do--something, anything to protect his leader. Allen heard the approach instantly and turned toward him. His arm was moving laterally. Jovey realized an instant too late that the knight had reclaimed his sword. The blade rushed down at him as a blur of flashing steel. Jovey twisted his body to avoid it, but his momentum was too great. His left forearm took the blow: Allen’s sword sank diagonally into the muscle, easily cleaving the flesh and stopping only when bone was struck. Jovey had no time to scream--almost instantly the limb went completely numb.
Allen recoiled, only now seeing that he had attacked an unarmed man. Jovey managed only a short, gasping wail as the blade was withdrawn; he dropped to his rear in the dirt. He clasped the wound that was already overflowing with hot life-fluid, and swore between clenched teeth.
Allen stared at him with indecision. Finally he turned to one of the men at his side. “Kio, help dress his wound. He’ll ride with you back to the castle.”
“Bastard…” Jovey hissed, unable to see the man anymore through his tears. He could feel blood staining his fingers, dribbling onto his knee. “I…I’m just trying to protect him.”
“So am I,” he replied softly, somewhere nearby.
“Damnit.”
“Calm down, kid,” came a new voice, just beside him. “I don’t have anything to bandage you with, so we’ll have to use your shirt.
“You’ll have to cut it off,” Jovey gasped, “because I can’t let go of my arm.”
Despite the man’s size and gruff appearance, he took great care in his attention to the wounded youth. He cut the already tattered and bloodied fabric away with a knife and tied it into strips. “Move your hand,” he instructed firmly, and as the boy obeyed he fastened the material around the gored arm. The first layer was quickly saturated crimson.
“Boss.” Once they’d finished, Kio turned to his leader. He was seated atop his horse, one arm around Dilandau’s middle, who had been situation in front of him. “He’s in bad shape--it’s bleeding a lot. We have to get him to a doctor.”
“All right. He’ll ride with you.”
“C’mon, kid.” Kio slung his arm around Jovey’s waist and hauled him to his feet. The boy did not protest as he as half carried to the horse and place in its saddle. Already he was feeling dizzy and faint. Lord Dilandau…. He glanced at his master, and was startled to find a pair of crimson eyes on him.
--
Dilandau awoke slowly from vague and confusing dreams. He felt odd--no other word described his condition better. His body ached, not painfully, but in a way that made him aware of his every joint and muscle. To move his limbs would be like blowing on a wad of cotton. But his mind was keen--he kept his eyes closed, listening to the forest sounds, and plotting the scenery in his mind.
He was seated on a horse--a large horse that shifted impatiently beneath him. Seated behind him was Allen, as he could tell by the scent. How he was able to accomplish this recognition was beyond him; all he knew for certain was that the man’s hand pressed against his stomach was making him sick.
Somewhere nearby voice alerted his attention; he recognized it, as if it had been pulled from his dreams. The sounds of pain caused his skin to grow hot, and he opened his eyes to view their source.
That boy…I know him. Dilandau caught the black-haired boy’s gaze and held it, trying to make out his identity. He’s one of mine. He’s one of mine.
Dilandau snatched the reins of his horse and yanked as hard as he could. As it had already grown anxious from the odor of blood the animal reared, neighing in fright. Allen began to slide off, having been too concerned over his captive to monitor his own safety; as he fell, Dilandau snatched his sword handle, unsheathing the metal with a loud hiss. “Jovey!”
Jovey quickly caught onto his plan. He kicked Kio in the face and maneuvered his horse alongside his master’s; Dilandau leapt easily onto the second beast and spurred it on without hesitation. It snorted, but complied, carrying the two Dragonslayers into the forest.
--
Allen started to climb to his feet, and nearly fell as his leg complained with the sudden stress. Gaddess managed to steady him. “Boss, are you--“
“I’m fine,” he snapped, as Kio attempted to calm his horse. He stared after the pair and cursed softly. “We have to go after them.”
“You need to get your leg cleaned,” Gaddess insisted. “They’ll come back--Jovey’s in bad shape. They--“
Allen snatched the man’s shirt suddenly. “Go after them,” he ordered. “If they come back to the city unsupervised, they’ll cause trouble.”
Gaddess hesitated only a moment. “All right. Kio, take care of the Boss.” He remounted his horse and rode off, into the woods.
Allen watched him go with a sigh. “Please, find them.”
--
Jovey could feel that he was slipping gradually out of consciousness. The woods echoed like a blur around him, and he couldn’t make out the words being said in his ear. Abruptly the horse stopped moving, and he was pulled off of it. “Come on,” Dilandau was saying urgently, helping him along. “Come on.”
“The horse….” Jovey stumbled, and once he righted himself was puzzled to see their mount racing off. “Lord Dilandau…?”
“Stay here.” Dilandau lowered him to the ground, resting between a pair of thick tree roots. Nearby ferns were twisted and adjusted to cover his existence. And then suddenly Dilandau was gone, having climbed into the tree’s branches.
Jovey stayed still--he felt as if he could do nothing else, so weary was he. His quickly fading attention was drawn by the sound of hoof beats, and the soft forest earth trembled as a horse sped past, into the forest. He stared after it curiously. Was that our horse? Why did it leave? He tried to sit up but fell back, exhausted. “Di…Dilan…?”
“I’m here, Jovey,” a voice came from above. “Go to sleep.”
