17-Jan-2002

Twisted Fortune - An Escaflowne Fanfiction
By Bonnejeanne and Nixers
Contact: bonnejeanne@yahoo.com and nixerchan@aol.com
Warnings: Spoilers
Notes: Set a little over one year after Vision of Escaflowne's end.

Chapter Eleven - Locious

Part 23

Below the platform, the guards, formerly in escort, rose to attention and drew their weapons. Dilandau dropped the sash, reaching quickly for the hilt of his sword, but drew short as he felt the faint impression against his back, the razor tip of a blade, not yet penetrating the leather of the armor.

Van threw a glare at the two men on the platform, but did not move to resist... until he glimpsed the sword point at Dilandau's back. The flash that came from cinnamon eyes suddenly gone scarlet made the previous glare look like a bored glance. His muscles tensed but he remembered and held himself still. But it was a sharpened, aware stillness. One drop of the Zaibach captain's blood... just one...

Dilandau had lowered his hands slowly, and one of the guards had stepped forward to remove the Captain's sword, giving it to the Basram officer who held captive Van's weapon. The albino was tense, hands clenched with repressed violence. "There will be consequences for this," he said, in a voice just loud enough to be heard by the two above.

The Basram Captain looked up at the king and advisor above. "Your orders sir?"

"The dark one, a cell," the king glanced at his advisor reflexively, a little uncertainly. "The other is requested to be first taken to my advisor's study. Under escort."

The Zaibach captain glanced from Van to the platform. "I protest." He paused, growling fighting quickly for a reason that could be acceptable. "This is more demon than man. I cannot allow another to take him. I will not lose this fight."

Van growled, whether in answer to the description or for other reasons was left to the listeners to guess.

The Advisor lifted the magnifying lenses to his eye again, flipping from one magnitude to another. Then he leaned down and said in the king's ear, "This is intriguing. Whoever and whatever they are, there is something odd going on here. I believe it is to our benefit to find out what it is. Have them both brought to my biological lab. And be sure to send an adequate number of guards, in case the Zaibacher's claims have any merit."

The king turned fully to the advisor, and the guards below paused, expectantly, the instant that the Advisor spoke, knowing new orders would likely come forth. "Locious, I esteem you highly, you know that." He paused. "But if what the boy says is true, and he is the royalty of Fanelia, we could have a crisis. He's well respected, and we have enemies from all sides."

The Advisor's pale lips hinted at a slight curve. "I am not unfamiliar with the history of the supposed Van Fanel. He's respected, yes... and feared. Much as we are, and for not unlike reasons. It's known he trafficked with a witch from the Phantom Moon. There are stories about him that... beggar a skeptical mind. But I wager that even his close 'friends' in Asturia are more than a trifle wary of him. Would such a man be content to retire to his quiet backwater of Fanelia after the events he's said to have been involved in? And if the answer is no? Patience, and a little courage, my lord. Were there to be a way to remove him from the board, there might not be as much protest as you suppose. It might even win us a few friends."

"I trust 'friends' even less so than my enemies," the king said again dabbing his face, before the hand froze and panicked eyes flew to the Advisor. "Yourself excepting." He fidgeted, turning over the words in his mind, he could find no fault in the advice spoken in his ear and again sat back a little. With another quick swipe of his brow, he turned and again addressed the guards, instructing both to be brought to the advisor's *room.*

Van was both privately pleased, and increasingly wary. He found that being in this situation did not affect him as strongly as the knowledge that there were swords pointed at the garnet-eyed boy beside him. Acting on those feelings would expose the deception, but he knew it was something he had limited control over.

The guards were quick to act on the commands, keeping both boys cautiously separated, but moved quickly out of the chambers as both men on the platform rose and departed, an obvious end of the audience.

The next room was not so much of a hallway as a guardroom, perhaps a testimony to the end result of many such audiences. The room was narrow, leaving no room for the two prisoners to maneuver if they had the urge. The sash around Van's hands was cut and quickly replaced by restraints of metal, most likely steel. The same was done to the Zaibach Captain, as his hands, under protest, were forced in front of him and shackled.

Belatedly, he wondered if his protest hadn't done more damage than good. Red eyes glared from one face to the others, seeking some method of breaking free for just the moment he'd need to get the sword. It was some comfort to him at least that they were in sight of each other, the idea of separation causing a panic in the young soldier.

With a giggle, he glanced at Van. "How is it, that every time I fight you, things get worse?"

Van glanced back at the remark. The corner of his mouth pulled slightly.

The Basram Captain looked sharply at Dilandau, placing both swords next to each other on a rack provided in the small room. "Enough of that," he said. He nodded curtly to the other men, and the two were pushed forward again, out into featureless white halls with solid hardwood doors occasionally breaking the monotony. Dilandau quickly took assessment of the situation, the captain had stayed behind, and the guards escorted them were younger, many had sheathed their swords. He smirked a touch to himself. If these little oversights continued...

The journey was not short, they had to travel a good distance down the corridors. The area where the 'Advisor' worked was a separate wing and the entrance to the section was heavily guarded.

The biological lab was rather reminiscent of the ones in Zaibach. The white masonry was indistinguishable, as the only light sources in the windowless room were from small metal contraptions, lamps that seemed to have no energist powering them so directly, scattered about the center of the room. The tables that the lamps sat upon were covered with notations, drawing compasses and things not so easily identified. Tubes and containers of liquids seemed to litter the desktops. The only truly clear space seemed to be a metal table to the rear, hardly within the circle of illumination.

Despite his bonds, Dilandau reflexively pushed backwards trying to leave the room. With a rude noise from the nervous escort, he was shoved forward roughly. The pale boy made no other attempts to move towards the door, merely took in the surroundings with wild eyes.

Van stepped forward, moving closer to the albino, as if simply to get away from the guards.

From the back of the room, out of sight behind shelves and strange equipment, the figure of the Advisor emerged. He moved forward, glancing first at Van, then Dilandau. If he noticed the reaction in the captain's expression, he ignored it. He studied Dilandau, reaching up one pale, white-gloved finger to touch the side of his cheek.

"You've been adjusted," he said in a mildly thoughtful tone.

Dilandau jerked back from the touch. The guards to either side of him renewed their grip, holding the boy steadier. Dilandau merely curled his lip, looking the Advisor up and down. After a moment, the snarl became a smirk. "I'd say I'm not the only one," he drawled, glancing at the sorcerer with pointed amusement.

The sorcerer's mouth twitched, then curved in a full, if somewhat ghastly smile. "Perceptive. I've heard of you. You're something of a legend among the pathetic fools who call themselves wizards. The most ambitious fate change attempted... until mine."

The silver-haired boy drew back a bit, a twitch of his eyelid betraying some repulsion at the Advisor's continued proximity. "If it was for beauty," Dilandau said, eyes narrowed. His tone sounding more confident than he felt; this was not a situation he had bargained for. "I've never seen a more impressive backfire."

The Advisor laughed... and his laugh was even more ghastly than his smile. His public face in the audience hall was all but identical to the demeanor Dilandau was familiar with from the Zaibach sorcerers, but clearly it was a mask, and this was the true face of the renegade wizard. He was as reactive as they were cold, but there was something... off about the reactions.

Unnerved, the Zaibach soldier tried to step back again, but was held firmly by the guards. Breaking eye contact with the sorcerer to snarl at both of them a moment, he quickly turned wary attention to the sorcerer. In his experience, irritations and insults gave him a bit of room in most sorcerers' company, if just from them to step back to note the 'erratic behavior.'

"I didn't think," Dilandau paused and started over, trying to remove the unsteadiness from his voice to play on a gamble. "I didn't think there were any of you type outside of Zaibach."

The Advisor's smile turned into a grin... it was a bit like being grinned at by a sick animal. "There are none of *my* type, anywhere."

The boy didn't respond to that, seeking something beyond the wizard to look at, but the alternatives in the workroom weren't of any greater comfort.

After the silence had stretched out, unbroken as the guards in the room spent great energy in pretending not to see or hear the conversations taking place. "What are you getting out of this?" Dilandau asked through clenched teeth. Beneath his glove uniform, he worked minutely, but futilely, at getting the steel bonds to loosen any, all the while never glancing back at the renegade in front of him.

The Advisor studied the Zaibach captain during the silence. He walked around Dilandau and then suddenly turned to the guards.

Gesturing at Van, he said, "Secure that one to the table, and leave. Send my assistant to me. And release this one. I like him."

Dilandau stiffened, the gesture unnoticed by the soldiers hastening to complete the advisors commands and leave the room as soon as possible. As the thin steel shackles left his wrists, he drew away from their reach, glancing towards Van. "No. That one is mine," he said stubbornly.

His words had no effect on the guards, who pushed Van towards the table. The young king set his jaw, not at all happy with the idea of being on one of those again, but preferring it to having his companion take his place there.

Locious tilted his head, waving the guards to continue. "Is that so? Then you can make this easier for him. Tell me his secrets... and I won't have to use as much persuasion to get him to reveal them."

"He's my enemy." Dilandau said flatly. "What makes you think he'd tell me anything? I just want him intact to carry out my orders."

"I don't care if he tells you. Are you saying you haven't learned any of your enemy's secrets?" Locious asked. "Too bad. Then you may enjoy what is going to happen next."

The Zaibach Captain snarled and took a step forward menacingly, glancing toward the table, and the guards passing by, he tensed, trying to gauge what it would take to wrest a sword free without getting killed himself.

A white gloved hand placed itself on his shoulder. "Restraint, Captain," Locious said. He held the albino for a moment with the simple shock of his touch. It was sufficient to allow the guards to finish their task. Van had little chance to fight, and though he struggled a little, he did not throw everything he had into it. The expression on his face hardened into a deep scowl, masking anything else, but his cinnamon eyes took on a redder gleam.

"Restraint?" Dilandau ask, giving the hand on his shoulder a somewhat feral look. "One reason why I shouldn't kill you and fulfill my orders?" Those eyes darted back up to meet the Advisor's.

"Orders... yes... from whom, young Captain?" the Advisor asked, withdrawing his touch. He moved away from the albino, drifting towards the figure now bound to the table.

"Folken," Dilandau said with a smirk, watching the sorcerer's back. "My orders were never withdrawn. I'm to capture the dragon and Van Fanel. It's my purpose."

The name Folken cause a strange, slight shudder to twitch across the Advisor's shoulders. He stopped and turned to favor Dilandau with a look. The renegade wizard's colorless eyes seemed to spark for a moment. It could not be a flash of combined loathing and longing that flickered through the man's eyes. Whatever it was in them was gone quickly, as if hidden by reflex.

"Indeed," the Advisor said, and the ghastly smile reappeared. "In that case, when I'm done with him, I'll give you what's left."

"That, I'm afraid, is not acceptable." Dilandau said, returning the grin. He took a step forward. There was more than one idea he'd had of torturing sorcerers without weapons, a little more difficult but maybe it would be more fun to play out. Certainly slower.

The Advisor shook his head and removed something from one wide sleeve. It looked like a small tube with something attached. He pointed it at the Zaibach captain. "No closer. Learn patience, Dilandau Albatou."

The boy froze a moment before reminding himself that the specter in front of him had already said that he was well known. He glanced sharply at the tube, then back up at the renegade. Deciding to call the other man's bluff, he spread his arms from his sides, in a mock contrite posture. "It's never been one of my virtues," he said, circling the man, not closer simply around.

As the Advisor turned and moved to the table, something scuttled out from around a collection of equipment. It was a beastman, whose species seemed to be that of some kind of arachnid. Gray skin and bulging eyes, as well as an extra pair of limbs created a somewhat unwholesome effect. This creature ignored Dilandau and moved to assist his master.

Dilandau became quiet as the two turned their attention away from him. Keeping a sharp eye on both, he cast about the tables for a weapon of any sort. /In one piece or not at all. Not much leeway,/ Dilandau scowled at the thought, his panic rising a bit at the sight of them approaching Van. Taking a solid brass bookend quietly, he slipped it behind his back, holding it with both hands, as if his hands were clasped behind him casually.

"Someone like you.... it surprises me you are so eager to do adjustments. I suppose all sorcerers are the same. From Folken on down," he said in an almost sing song voice, his eyes trying to determine which target to take out first, the sorcerer was tempting, but who knows if the arachnid was venomous.

Another sample of Locious' strange laughter answered Dilandau's remark. "I've no intention of *adjusting* this creature," he said, examining Van closely. He frowned and ran a finger along the front of the king's shirt, where it was stained by blood from underneath. "How did this occur?" he snapped the question, turning his head to pin the albino with a stare.

The boy frowned. His options were slim; if he didn't answer, he'd likely start "asking" Van. Taking another step forward under the guise of finding a spot to lean on, he shrugged extravagantly. "How? Battle of course."

Locious' eyes narrowed. He looked at Van sharply. "The Ispano guymelef?" he muttered. As this was taking place, the arachnid was removing pieces of Van's clothing by cutting them off his person. His tanned body showed bruises, and a scratch down his calf where the first graze on Escaflowne had taken place. The Advisor turned to his assistant. "Have the guards send someone to catalogue any damages to the Ispano guymelef."

Then he focused on another bruise, this one the healing but distinctive mark on the young king's thigh where Zaibach sorcerers had injected him. Locious turned and speared Dilandau with another sharp glance.

Dilandau returned the look steadily, his vantage was not so good as the sorcerer's and he couldn't spot what had the Advisor staring at him this time. The albino instead forced the tension out of his stance, hoping that the beastman would leave, simplifying the problem before him.

The arachnid went over to a table and began slicking a small device, sending a remote message in the Basram distance code. As he moved away from the table, Dilandau had a clear view of Van.

The king turned his head, his eyes passing over the albino's face but there was neither rage nor entreaty in them. They were almost blank.

The boy met Van's gaze a moment, overly conscious of the sorcerer's eyes on him. Looking away though felt like a betrayal, but doing nothing was worse. He glanced at the sorcerer again, feigning irritation. "You're asking me.....?"

"He's been in the hands of the imbeciles," Locious said, his voice spiraling up in an odd, disconcerting way.

Dilandau gave the Advisor an unpleasant grin of his own. "What? Mad that other imbeciles got him first?" He shifted the bookend to one hand, a quick glance at the arachnid confirmed it was still behind the table. That would give him a few seconds.

The Advisor's eyes narrowed. "Yes, actually," he said, and grinned. "They could have killed him. Waste. They've no idea how to treat a Draconian. Only I have such knowledge."

"Lucky you," he said drolly, glancing upward carelessly.

"Lucky me," Locious agreed. "Lucky him. Lucky you." He bared his teeth in another sick-animal smile. "You're hiding something from me," he said matter of factly. "I'll find out." He turned back to Van and turned the king's face, looking at his blistered cheek. "Curious."

"That's a safe bet," Dilandau answered, his eyes lighting up as the man turned around. He drew his makeshift weapon out of concealment and lunged forward, closing the distance and bringing it down fast toward the juncture of the sorcerer's neck and collarbone. As soon as he felt the impact, he dropped into a crouch. He reached past the falling form of the sorcerer and pulled quickly at one of the restraints on Van's arm, trying to get it to catch and open, without looking to see what damage he'd delivered to the sorcerer.

At the moment he struck, Dilandau felt a sudden flare of warmth from his chest under the uniform. The sorcerer stumbled and fell to the ground, and there was an angry hiss from the direction of the arachnid assistant.

The restraint fell off, and Van moved with surprising speed, freeing his other wrist and then ankles.

Dilandau straightened at the hiss, putting himself between the arachnid and the king as he freed himself. He hefted the bookend again in one hand and grinned at the beastman.

The assistant hissed again and scuttled back, moving crabwise to try and get close to his master.

Dilandau glanced quickly at Van before returning his gaze to the arachnid. He gave it another glare and a menacing growl as its maneuvering took it too close for Dilandau's comfort. "I don't suppose the door locks from the inside?" Dilandau asked, only glancing back at Van for a moment again.

Van moved to the door, examining the mechanism. He looked over his shoulder. "I don't understand the lock; it's on the inside but there is no keyhole, only buttons."

"Che' looks like we can't kill you right away," Dilandau said, toeing the still form at his feet.

Van kept on eye on the albino and moved around, towards the back of the room. "He came from somewhere," he said. "Another exit. Might be more private anyway."

Dilandau nodded, and bent down to pick up the Advisor. Glancing up he gave the arachnid a wide smile. "Attack or try and call the guards, and I have no problems with snapping your Master's neck," he promised.

The assistant hissed and made clacking sounds with his mouth. He moved very agitatedly from side to side, staying out of immediate range but as close as he could.

Mild irritation spread over the albino's face. "Well, one option for interrogation gone. If it understands common, it doesn't seem to speak it," he muttered, more to himself than Van. As an afterthought, Dilandau pulled the strange contraption that the sorcerer had pointed at him out of the man's sleeve, checking for other tricks or devices as well. With a glance at the object he shrugged and put it in his belt. He wasn't sure how to use it, but the risk of the assistant or the Advisor recovering it could be dangerous if it wasn't a bluff.

With another cursory check over the man, Dilandau slung the other over his shoulder and stood. "Find anything?" he asked, turning his head to peer into the dark back of the room.

"Yes..." Van's voice came back. "An exit."

Dilandau turned back to the arachnid, motioning it to move in front of him. "Bringing the assistant," he called back as a warning. For all its efforts to stay near the Advisor, Dilandau didn't trust it not to break and run.

The arachnid clacked angrily... or fearfully; it was hard to be sure which. It scuttled in front of him, but apparently was paying more attention to Dilandau and its master. There was a loud thud, some scuffling and stillness. When Dilandau rounded the barrier of equipment, he saw the assistant sprawled on the floor with Van over it. He was quickly tying the thing's multiple limbs with some kind of cord or wire.

Dilandau smirked, nodding to Van. "That saves some effort." He tossed the bookend aside. It landed with a muffled thump somewhere out of sight. "Though I'd rather just kill it."

Van looked up briefly and shrugged. He stood up and jerked his head toward what Dilandau could now see was a small door, partially ajar, that led into someplace not well lit. "Need to find the bombs, right?"

The other nodded, then glanced back towards the biological lab. "And whatever records Locious has kept, we'll have to burn it. We need to see if he has any other .... places... like this."

Van tilted his head. He accepted the words at face value. "That could be an extensive search," he said, not in the tone of an objection, just stating it.

The albino smirked and shifted the shallowly breathing weight on his shoulder. "That's why he's still alive for now." Dilandau smiled almost happily at the next thought. "We do to him what he was planning on doing to you. It should cut down the search time."

The young king regarded Dilandau with no expression. "I can find the bombs. We need a place where we won't be disturbed." He turned and went to the door and through it.

Dilandau followed a few steps behind, both lagging from the weight of the sorcerer and taking the time to study Van. The boy was acting eerily like his brother, and the idea was mildly disturbing his pleasant thoughts of interrogation. Red eyes narrowed on the shallow slash across the other boy's chest as he caught sight of it briefly, as the other turned a corner. "Will that heal as fast as your back?" he asked.

Van didn't bother to look back. "I won't heal at all until Escaflowne is repaired."

"We nearly tore Escaflowne's legs to pieces bringing you to the Vione. You weren't marked then." Dilandau mentioned, again shifting the weight on his shoulder with annoyance at the encumbrance. He steadily disliked this contact but was reluctant to ask Van to carry the Advisor instead.

"No, not then," Van answered. He stopped at a door, running fingers along the unfamiliar door fastening. He pressed fingers against an indention and the door clicked open. Cautiously, he opened the door and looked in and then disappeared inside it.

The other followed behind, closing the door to the hallway behind him. The room within was small. Like most of the others, it lacked simple adornments or even windows, but was home to a single wooden bookshelf that stretched nearly from the ceiling to the floor, crammed with both loose documents and tomes of all bindings and thicknesses.

In the center of the room was a metal chair drawn neatly up to a desk that seemed to consist of nothing more than a flat metal surface tilted up at an angle. A lamp illuminated the strange desk, showing several papers adhering to the metal, held up by small round rocks place on their edges.

With obvious release in tension, Dilandau dumped the Advisor into the far corner of the room, letting him slide into a boneless heap, before stepping aside. With a vantage point that left his back to the wall and a peripheral view of both Van and Locious, he glanced around the room. "Good choice," he commented.

Not waiting for a reply from his companion, Dilandau crouched down and lifted the wizard's chin with on hand. The other came around for a hard backhand, knuckles cracking against the man's cheekbone. "Wake up," he purred, rocking back on his heels.

Van spared a glance for what the captain was doing, but kept close to the door, not wanting to be surprised by persons unknown. He glanced at the objects close by, examining them to see if he could make anything of them.

Dilandau in the meantime had let Locious go, crossing his arms. "Fragile. I didn't think I hit him that hard earlier." He reached forward and pulled the loose shirt aside at the neckline, looking for any sign that, what at worst should have been a crack of the collarbone, had more dangerous complications.

The Advisor's skin beneath his clothes was an odd, mottled color. Dilandau could detect shallow breaths. Slowly, a semblance of life stole through the man's pale limbs. He turned his head, opened his eyes, looked up at the boy and spat.

With a visible look of disgust, Dilandau closed his eyes and wiped off the spittle with a quick motion of his gloved hand. In a far too even voice, he said, "The locations of your records Locious."

Eyes widening, the wizard focused on his surroundings. His lips curled in a sneer. "The energist bomb," he said.

Dilandau glanced at the wizard, returning the sneer with an eager grin. "Maybe," he said, though his tone was not contradicting the statement. "You *are* going to stay nice and talkative, hmm?"

Locious opened his mouth and that too-off laughter came out. "What will you do? Hurt me?"

Dilandau grinned. "I can do worse than that. I can give you back." He unfolded his arms from across his chest, and laced his fingers together. "Admittedly, I'm not any more fond of the imbeciles than you are.... but there's a certain irony to letting them have another sorcerer to play with that's almost... delightful."

The renegade wizard tilted his head, white showing all around his eyes. "Never happen," he muttered. "You want the notes? Take them! Have them? Make a million bombs for Zaibach or whoever you work for. Blow up the world!"

The albino watched the renegade through lidded eyes, not bothering to correct the other's assumptions. "Where?"

The Advisor waved a skinny arm, pointing vaguely at the far wall, which was bare of shelving and blank.

He glanced in the direction, staring a moment before standing and looking over his shoulder at Van. "Anything you want to ask?" he said, stepping towards the wall, looking for any signs of a hidden doorway or what the sorcerer was referring to.

Van was leaning against the wall by the door, scanning documents. He looked up.

"Why Fanelia?"

Locious blinked and then a flash of cunning dripped across his face and off of it. "Ask your mother."

Van's head came up sharply and his fists clenched. He nearly threw down the papers in his hand but instead folded them, picked up several more and shoved them into a small satchel on the floor.

A small snick and a grinding of stone marked the opening of a small portion of the wall, as Dilandau pressed a single stone, oddly free of mortar around it. He smirked and looked from the two occupants of the room and back. "So, kill him now or drag him along?" he asked looking more at Locious than Van as he spoke, watching the overly expressive face of the other man.

Van didn't look up. "Your choice," he said. He grabbed the satchel, prepared to leave or do anything else.

The renegade sorcerer did not register any recognizable fear. His eyes fixed on Van. "So you did what *he* couldn't," he said, as if continuing a conversation. Van fixedly ignored him. "You killed the sacrifice... so fierce..."

The albino too seemed to ignore the conversation, content to ignore what he couldn't understand. The mild confusion sparked off the memory of a promise he'd made to himself earlier about answers.

"We'll keep him. Too sneaky not to until we finish getting rid of the records." He grabbed the material of the sorcerer's shirt and lifted the too thin man up and pushed him in front. "Just in case it's a trap, would you be so kind as to lead the way," he said with mock formality.

Locious allowed himself to be manhandled to his feet and shoved forward. He stumbled into the opening and ahead, and light answered his presence as he moved down a short narrow passage. At the end was a curtain which he pushed aside absently, and beyond was a Fate Redirector.

It was a fraction of the size of the original and it looked... odd. It was different; some things weren't where they were supposed to be, and the graceful symmetry of the device was marred by odd attachments. It hummed quietly.

Stepping warily into the room behind the sorcerer the Zaibach soldier stopped short staring at the machine for several seconds. "It's different," he stated. The obvious statement was directed at Locious with a suspicious glance.

The renegade shrugged with one shoulder. He waved a hand at an attached device that had rows of crystals stuck into sockets. "My records."

"Remove it and give it to me," Dilandau said, glancing with obvious unease at the sorcerer and the device. Once taking a glance down the narrow hallway to spot his dark haired companion.

Van was only a short distance behind, having wedged a chair into the doorway with an innate distrust of the whole situation.

"Remove it?" Locious replied. "It's not designed to be removed..."

Dilandau let out a small growl of frustration. His hand itched for his missing sword. It would have made this situation easier. He glanced at the rows of crystals and repressed a shudder, having touched one strange crystal had been more than enough for him.

"Can't just use simple papers," he mutters to himself. "Would have been much easier to destroy." He glanced around the room eyes settling on some kind of control panel. With almost a curious expression, he reached out to press a random button.

Somewhere on the device, something bubbled in an energized tube. A light blinked.

Van looked at the device, his expression showing dislike and distrust. He looked at the crystals that Dilandau was wary of. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around one. It glowed briefly but nothing else happened.

Gripping it, he pulled. After a moment, the crystal popped out of the socket.

The albino looked at Van, dissatisfied with the lack of results. His own knowledge of the sorcerer's works were limited, the mechanics never explained nor his interest. "Getting rid of this could take more time than we've got. The spider relayed that message, I'm almost certain. The guards are going to wonder when there's no response." He said, keeping a wary eye on the sorcerer in question.

Van shrugged. "Maybe... you don't think he ignores them when he feels like it?" He popped out another crystal.

The Advisor watched the young king, starting to frown.

"Probably," Dilandau said slowly, continuing the conversation as if the renegade wasn't there. "He's just as full of himself as the rest of 'em."

Van popped out another crystal. He was dropping the things into the satchel as he went.

"It would be convenient if they brought the melefs here," Van mentioned, taking another crystal.

Locious frowned quite deeply.

Dilandau echoed the Advisor's expression lightly. He wasn't fond of the idea of another touching his melef, but saw little point in arguing. The king could at least call his own into motion. His was a long walk.

Resigned, he glanced back at the sorcerer, at first to check that the man hadn't moved, then to study the expression there. Somehow, it was worse than the man's grin. "Something wrong?" he asked. His eyes narrowed and one fist rested on his hip, above the empty scabbard.

The sorcerer snarled reflexively at the captain. He seemed to fixate on watching Van pull the last of the crystals out. He actually flinched.

As the crystal popped out, the machine made a very strange noise and then suddenly it seemed to become a bit erratic. Van dropped the crystal in the satchel and stepped back quickly, looking at the device.

"What's it doing?" Dilandau snapped, pinning the sorcerer with a glare. His eyes flickered back as the machine made another strange noise.

"You've taken its instructions!" Locious hissed, glaring at Van. "Dragon spawn... you seem to be an idiot... how did you..."

"Forget that." Dilandau growled at the sorcerer, taking the man roughly by the uninjured arm. "What's powering the damn thing?"

Locious peeled back his lips. "Energy spot of the ancients. You think there was only one?"

The soldier shrugged. "Only one of my concern." He looked about the room, his eyes lighting on a metal chair. With an upward curve of his lips he said, "Fine, we stop it my way." With a quick step, he'd picked up the chair by the back and glanced at the machine. "I'd imagine the liquid stuff is pretty important," he glanced at the sorcerer out of the corner of his eye.

He glance back at Van making sure the other was back away from the machine and launch the chair into the metalworks and glass of the device. The delicate glass shattered and burbled down the sides of the machine. As the fluid drained out, the machine gave a hiccup, before something within it made a dry grinding noise. Another echoed it from further upwards, and again, until the erratic hum had been replaced by the cacophony.

At the last minute, the sorcerer darted forward, trying to get between Dilandau and the machine, even after it was too late. His eyes were wide and his mouth was stretched in a grin as odd laughter poured out instead of screams.

With a strangely satisfied half smirk, Dilandau regarded the scene a moment before turning back towards the passageway, the lights within now flickering chaotically. With a glance at Van to be sure the other was following, he quickened his pace taking the hallway at a half run as the noise behind them increased in pitch and other discordant sounds made their way into the wail of the contraption.

In the other room, there was a rhythmic pounding on the door, rattling the chair propped against it as someone on the other side laid their shoulder into it with frantic shouts of more than one man.

On Dilandau's heels, Van came into the room, scowling at the door. His hand flexed, brushing the air at his side reflexively. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, he made for the rattling door.

Dilandau flattened himself against the wall along side of the doorway and released the scabbard from his belt, holding it at ready as one would a sword.

Glancing briefly at the other boy, Van pulled the chair away and jumped back to the other side of the door at the same time, retaining his hold on the chair and lifting it.

The door burst open and three men fell into the room, dressed in uniforms. Before they could draw weapons, Van threw the chair into the group, and then grabbed the nearest one by the collar, slamming his head into the wall.

The closest to Dilandau was met, as he staggered, with the flat of the scabbard, whistling through the air and slamming into the soft cartilage of the man's neck. The soldier's eyes rolled up in his head and the man went down with a gurgle, curling up as he tried to force air through crushed windpipes. With a disdainful look the albino reached down and pulled the Basram's soldier's sword from its sheath. With a quick slash, the edge of metal followed the path the scabbard had taken.

As the second was drowning in his own blood, the third just barely untangled himself from the metal chair. He backed away, finding Van's back an easier target.

Van had dropped the first soldier unconscious, and also grabbed his weapon quickly. With barely a glance over his shoulder he spun, and the third man went down with a nasty slice to the abdomen.

The king went back quickly to the first man he'd dropped and began peeling his uniform off quickly, pulling it on and buckling the swordbelt around his hips.

With an impatient look to the hallway behind them, Dilandau caught sight of the faint reddish flicker of light; a fire had caught somewhere within. There was still no sign of the sorcerer, but Dilandau was not inclined to wait. He darted out into the hallway, waiting for Van's exit before slamming the door shut behind them.

Van followed, sword in one hand and satchel in the other.

A loud crash and crunch, muffled only moderately by the thick walls themselves, could be heard from the room they just left. Small shockwaves rattled the floor beneath them. "Through the lab is out," Dilandau said, starting down the hall in the opposite direction in a dead run, remembering Van's comments about the strange lock. Without the code they'd never get it open. "Can you call the dragon?" he called back to the other, searching the hallways ahead for a clear pathway out. Distantly, there were shouts, echoing along the walls, but the direction of their source was indiscernible.

Van ran a few steps to come even with the taller boy. Slinging the satchel around his shoulder, he reached out as they moved down the hall and slid his fingers along the neck of Dilandau's uniform until he was able to snag the chain and pull it out. He wrapped his fingers around the pendant, which was glowing, almost pulsing, seemingly in time with the small explosions down the hall.

Feeling the energy from the stone, Van threw his mind at the Ispano guymelef. He stumbled for a step or two, then released the glowing crystal. "Coming," he said. He saw a staircase ahead that seemed to lead in a wide spiral up through a guard tower. "Up," he said briefly, and began taking the stairs two at a time.

Dilandau took the steps behind Van on automatic, his hand tracing along the walls. The pulse of light and warmth he could feel, even as it rested above his armor. The now familiar sensation brought, at first, an almost dizzy sense of euphoria.

The world narrowed a few steps at a time. He focused, watching Van's boots disappear and reappear in his line of vision as he ascended behind the king. A flash of red took that sight, replacing it briefly with long blonde hair, faceless, but the uniform of a Heavenly Knight. It vanished in the next heartbeat. The steps returned with a small stumble on the Zaibach boy's part. Three steps, a curve of the hallway, and the stairwell disappeared again, even as the noise from the machine squealed behind them, now audible even at this distance.

/In the red flash was a figure with wings, standing, consumed by flames, too red to be real, in a land unlike any he could recognize. A survivor absorbed by a white light that lanced upwards./ Another pulse of red, gave way to another brief recovery. The boy only glimpsed the stairwell opening up to sky, a turret surrounding the castle.

The world returned again for a moment, as his foot caught and stumbled. He recovered slightly, feeling a hand on his arm. Vertigo swept his senses.

Dilandau knew, for a brief second, he was standing on the turrets, he leaned against one, breath gone. A voice, asking, almost pleading, but he couldn't make out the words. Hands were on his arms, steady holding him upright with a desperate grip, cinnamon eyes staring at him. An explosion came from below.

/A white dragon and a bird with fiery plumage were locked around each other, twisting fiercely. The firebird cried out, but the sound was not of pain./ A flash of red, and everything faded into black.

Reaching the open roof of the turret, Van looked back, seeing a very odd expression of the face of the boy behind him. Eyes wide and focused on something beyond, he almost stumbled while taking the last step, and Van reached out, taking Dilandau's arm to steady him.

He blinked as the wide garnet eyes seemed to swirl, dilating, and the color deepened, then changed, flashing a blue that Van would never forget as long as he took breath. A blink, another, and the blue faded. Van shoved the borrowed sword into its sheath and caught Dilandau's other arm, looking into his face.

The other boy seemed not to hear or see Van. For a moment, there was a split second of clarity, as garnet eyes darted, taking in the surroundings. The silver haired boy, half supported by Van, slumped back against the turret's walls, panting for breath.

"What? What is happening?"

The pendant flashing brilliantly once, in perfect time with an explosion that roared from below, heralding an earthquake that shook the flooring beneath them. That same blank look returned for a few seconds, as if he was watching something play out, before the gem flashed, almost blindingly, and then lost its luminescence. The boy wearing it collapsed, the sword slipping from his grip to the shaking floor, and wide eyes closing.

Van caught Dilandau before he could hit the ground, feeling the wind whip around them both. Heart pounding, he scooped the other boy in his arms and looked up, as the shadow of wings fell across the two. The mayhem caused by the explosions had fortunately distracted the defenses of the place at the best moment. Escaflowne descended and Van jumped up to her shoulder and then back, settling Dilandau into the small sunken cockpit between her shoulders. He grabbed the guide controls and the white dragon leapt into the air. Not sure what else to do, Van climbed higher, much higher than any conventional melef and pointed Escaflowne into the wind, guiding her to run.

Below them, a stretch of the ceiling collapsed slowly, not far from where Escaflowne had taken to the air. The stone of the seaside palace began melting slowly, dripping away to reveal an unnaturally red fire, shooting up from the midst of the masonry, and slowly consuming the rest. Over the roar of the wind, Van could make out a dragon's call, deeper and richer than that of the earth dragons.

The seas stirred, calm waves frothing up to smash against the breakers and cliff sides. A black sea dragon nearly twice the size of the palace surfaced, drawing nigh. Another roar, louder, tore through the air. Below the ridged plate of the seadragon's underbelly, a blue light glimmered. The light was faint at first, but quickly grew in intensity.

Staring at the fire for a moment, swaying, the dragon reared back then opened its mouth. A stream of solid blue energy poured from its jaws for several long seconds, battling with the unnatural flames. The red slowly receded under the assault as if under protest, clinging tenaciously to its sudden freedom.

The red flames died with a hiss audible even at their great height, and the blue glow faded, as the massive serpent slowly dipped again below the waves. The only trace of its existence was the turmoil of the waters and the occasional flash of black scales just below the surface as it slipped deeper into the ocean.

Van circled, not quite believing what he'd seen and having no idea what to make of it. Then he turned Escaflowne inland and flew until the country of Basram was far behind them.

THE END OF PART 23!

Twisted Fortune - part 24

Twisted Fortune - Index