25-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 Nineteen - Risks and Prices
Part 43
Allen returned to the Crusade in remarkable short order. His skills at making it through diplomatic protocol in record time seemed to have been helped along by a word or two in the right ear from the Temple. He only stepped foot on the bottom rung of the boarding ladder and called up to the bridge for the airship to make her departure, running up the rungs as the big ship began to lift from the ground.
Knowing Gaddes would not have lifted without everyone on board, the blond swordsman didn't even bother to ask. He'd already given his orders -- best speed to Fanelia. Tossing a wave as he crossed the deck, he followed an impulse and made his way to the room in the hold where the prisoner was, presumably, still being kept.
Opening the door, he looked in. The figure on the floor, turned away, did not appear to have moved in days. Grimly Allen wondered when the odor of decay might alert them that he'd died at some point. Unwilling to test it at the moment, he closed and secured the door, and checked to make sure there was still a watch being kept on it.
By the time he reached the bridge again, they'd left the area of the palace and were passing through Freid's lands on their way to its border.
By now, the crew of the Crusade had dispersed since once in flight, there was very little actual maintenance to be done and whenever something went wrong, everyone felt it. Passed by Radyen on a last check of the equipment before finding the nearest card game, the large man shouted over the winds, "Gaddes said to tell ya he'd be below."
Allen nodded in acknowledgment, checking out of habit the instruments and that a watch was set on the bridge. Returning to his cabin, he divested himself of the sword belt and jerkin, more comfortable in shirtsleeves, and took the shoulder bag he'd climbed on board with and removed the bottle of Freid spirits he'd brought back along the way. Then he went seeking the dark-haired first mate.
He found him in the same room the two of them had spent that first night in Zaibach. Gaddes had switched seats, taking the one Allen had before and had it leaned back enough that only two of the legs touched the floor despite the slow sway of the airship. Not having noticed the Captain's arrival yet, the first mate was putting a finer edge on one of his daggers to pass the time.
Allen stopped at a wall cabinet, retrieving two cups. He placed them on the table along with the bottle, snagging a chair as well. "Harquat brandy," he mentioned a cactus-like fruit native to the region.
Sheathing the dagger smoothly, Gaddes looked up, impressed, "Didn't know they let that stuff get outta the country," he said, already pulling one cup in front of him.
"I assured them it wouldn't make it very far passed the border," Allen mentioned, opening the bottle and pouring the dark orange liquor into both cups. He lifted his as if to toast and then shook his head, unable to come up with appropriate words to caption the day's happenings.
Picking up his own, Gaddes said, "You know, I know it aint ever really gonna get back to normal as we knew it, but that, was too damned weird." With that he took a nearly tentative gulp of the liquor, grimacing extravagantly at the taste, but after a moments pause, taking at least half of the generous cup to chase it.
Allen drank, noting the musky flavor that mingled the slight sweetness of the brandy with something spicier. He nodded, recalling the strange room they had visited. "Weird indeed," he murmured, taking another drink. Thinking of what had happened when Dilandau had entered the room, he added, "They really *are* one and the same." Shaking his head, he finished the cup and lifted the bottle for the refill, offering the same to Gaddes.
It wasn't turned down. "I'm not sure what to think about that.. You know, the lady said it was supposed to be truth in there right?" Gaddes asked, his free hand raking through his hair. "Would have figured on something different for two of the same people."
Allen's expression was thoughtful, as he drank the second cup a bit more slowly. "Two spirits...? But one body -- hers. I... don't know," he admitted without much hesitation. His eyes flickered to his hands for a bare moment, remembering the scars they had shown, which were now barely a memory. Perhaps... a faint white marking here or there, now that he looked. Shaking his head. "I'm not sure even now I believe in one truth..."
Gaddes shook his head and concentrated for a moment on emptying a second glance. "Not my sorta thing. Truth aint much more than philosophy really. I'll just try and figure out what is and bugger the rest of it. Only way to do it."
Allen released a slow sigh. "Figuring out what is... can be hard enough, I guess," he said, glancing at the other man over the rim of his cup. His gaze was pensive. "Gaddes... where are you from?"
"Pallas," he answered, scowling at the word. He reached for the bottle first this time to refill his glass.
Allen offered his cup in a mute request. "I remember the first time I saw Pallas. I'd been raised away from the court. I thought it was the most beautiful city that could ever be built."
"That's the funny thing about it," Gaddes said, filling the other's glass automatically. "Worst snakes in the world have the best skins. Great colors, pretty to watch, but ya don't last long when you step in a nest of em."
Drinking from the refilled cup, Allen watched the other man, remembering the subtle changes he'd seen in the room of truth. Shaking his head with a slight touch of wonder, he murmured, "You lasted. That makes you a skillful man, I think."
This time Gaddes flashed a grin, "Nah, I figure it was more luck. Either way, I'm not knocking it."
"Nor am I," Allen answered, looking into the other man's eyes. He wasn't entirely certain where his thoughts were going, nor what the feelings were that seemed to be stirring somewhere. There was a sense of gratitude and appreciation for a loyal friend, but since the visit to Zaibach, something else had been leaking through his habitual layers of defense, something he could not completely place.
There was a bit of a flush across the first mate's face as he dropped his own gaze back to the cup, but it could be just as easily passed off as effects of a strong drink.
Allen refilled the cups this time, taking most of his refill in the next drink. "What... is it like?" the words slipped out, the comforting blurriness from the drink dispelling the good sense that would have stopped the words before they were uttered.
Gaddes froze completely, old instinct burning away some of the hard won intoxication. /I'm not drunk enough for this,/ was one quickfire thought, followed quickly with /If I'm wrong that's it... ... ah what the hell./ All that showed was a loosening of the man's posture and an elaborate shrug. "Depends on who with, and how... but, can be better than with a lady in some ways, lotta ways."
Allen tilted his head, finishing his cup. His lips curved slightly, not in humor but something almost like an innocent curiosity. "Better..." he murmured, not entirely aware of speaking. "That might not be... too difficult," he said, the expression changing to an inward one, reflecting some cynicism along with more than a bit of self-disgust. How close he'd come with Millerna, after Dryden left. And she still married to the man, in name at least. But it wasn't the trespassing of marriage vows, that had happened before, certainly. No, it was simply the knowledge that he'd wanted her more when she was innocent. That self revelation hadn't led to any great sense of self-worth.
Gaddes poured again for both of them, not returning a comment. A few good quaffs had brought back enough of a haze to let his own thoughts slip back in the silence between the two men. There was a few things bothering him that took a few cups to bring out. "'S one thing I don't get," Gaddes began, eyes wandering form their steadier focus on the bottom of his cup to Allen's hands, "I'd been hearing rumors of you since you weren't more thanna fancy highwayman," The words slipped past with no regard for the normal safeguards, "No way, even then, all them cuts were made by a blade, were they?"
Allen froze, his fair complexion losing the faint flush from the liquor. Unable to answer, he looked at the other man and shook his head unconsciously, trying to swallow.
"Figured that," Gaddes said, barely above a mumble. His brow furrowed a little bit over his eyes. "Doesn't matter you know. Not the way ya think it does. Can't see em now, but they're what makes ya worth it."
Shaking his head again, this time in incomprehension, Allen gripped his cup and emptied what was left in it. "Don't get you," he said, not looking up. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, brushing the thick hair back, then letting it fall. He glanced up, his look a little haunted. "You know, you could captain if you had a mind to. You've everything it takes and more besides."
Gaddes snorted and snapped off the rest of the contents of his glass. "I /was/ captain'n when you got tossed out with the rest of us roughnecks. Don't regret stepping down either," he grinned lopsidedly, "But those fights in the mean time were pretty fun, gotta admit that."
"You'd take it back then?" Allen said, running a finger around the rim of his cup. "Or do you have other ambitions?"
"Take it back? Hell no. Everyone thinks they want the bosses' job until they actually get it. I'd've given it to ya earlier, but it were a matter of pride. I've got a bit too much of that, sometimes." The first mate focused on the glass just long enough to put it down on the table safely. "As for the rest? Nah, ambition's for them poor saps who aint happy where they are."
Allen laughed softly, finding the words apropos. "Poor saps indeed," he murmured. He propped his chin in his hand. "How... how do you know, when you find someone... since you say you have to be so careful?"
"I don't, least I haven't since Pallas," Gaddes scowled at the surface of the table. "Was a bad guess that put me to the outpost. Prolly the best bit of luck I ever had, but could have been a lot worse."
Allen gazed at the first mate, continuing to prop his head on his hand. His other hand left the empty cup and rested, palm up, on the table. "Could have been better," he said softly, more to continue the conversation that anything.
Gaddes' expression darkened, and for a moment he looked ready to argue the point. Then he glanced up, catching Allen's demeanor and blinked. "How do you figure that?" he asked.
"Um, could have been a good guess... instead of a bad one?" Allen hazarded. "A... a pleasant night... instead of exile and hiding?"
"S all it woulda been, a good night. He was a right fink, but didn't matter. So was I to tell ya right." Gaddes folded his arms on the table and slouched to rest his chin on them. "Woulda been a short better in the middle of a lotta worse. I like it here."
Allen smiled slightly. "So do I, to be truthful. The only place better is my house... quiet as it is."
The other man put on a good effort to hide the downcast look that produced. "So, you're heading back there after all this?"
"I don't know," Allen admitted. "I'd have given it to Serena... if she..." He shook his head. "It seems that if my... sister returns, she might be staying in Fanelia, as a possibility. I won't... go back alone."
Again, Gaddes opened his mouth to say something, then after a bare pause, shook his head. He nearly crossed his eyes trying to focus on the bottle and sighed, returning to the sprawled posture when the first few attempts missed. "He aint going to let this one get away and she's bout as tenacious as they come. Don't think melefs could split em now," he muttered.
Allen smiled. Then he brushed his index finger along his lower lip. "I agree... in spite of... Gaddes, I'd swear there's something just as... much between the Captain and the king..."
"Different something maybe, but same enough," Gaddes said, trying not to watch Allen's hand. "Heh, that one I wonder a bit how long it's been there. They were something pretty fierce. Even half dead that one time," the first mate shuddered a bit.
Allen shook his head, finding the idea incredible... but not as much as he might have at one time. "I don't know... don't think I wanna know," he muttered. "The two of them shed hormones like water since they've been on this ship."
"Now, to have that kinda stamina again," Gaddes grinned.
"What would you do about it?" Allen inquired, circling the bottom of his cup with his finger, and licking the drop or two from the end of it.
"Well, for one, you'd have been tackled by now," Gaddes said easily. It took a few seconds for the mortification to click in and register what had been said. He did his very best to sink under the table.
"Was starting to wonder if you lied about that preference for blondes," Allen murmured. "Figured I wasn't sending the right signals. I'm not sure exactly what to send anyway, not in this venue..."
"That shirt open, no pants, bit you did in the cabin back up north was a winner, lemmie tell you," Gaddes replied.
"Good to know," Allen said with a smile. "So the pants have to go before I'm getting anything across?"
"No, you got a whole lot across," the other man said, eyes closed. "But... I aint breaking it for one night."
"Breaking... what?" Allen asked softly, watching the dark haired second in command.
Gaddes shook his head, deciding if a little unsteadily that it was better out now. He straightened up a bit, looking up at the Captain at last. "Like I said, I aint had anything real since Pallas. With the ladyfolk, we both know it's one night, it's all good there. But I'm not doing anything less it is real. It aint worth it otherwise."
"Wise man," Allen whispered, coming to his feet. "I'm not sure I've had anything... real since... no... no, not ever," he murmured, eyes dropping to the floor. "Seems unlikely to change, given that it's me. Forgive me, old friend." There was a dry note of deep regret in the last few words, and the swordsman swayed in the direction of the door.
"Hey," Gaddes protested. "You know, red heads used to be my main fancy. Didn't really take a liking to blondes until," he did a bit of fuzzy calculation, remembering the year a new Captain was assigned to the outpost, "Bout four years ago." He grinned lopsidedly. "By then long hair was a new plus as well."
Allen stopped at the door and looked back, his expression confused. He shrugged slightly. "It appears I'm not very good at this after all," he said simply. "I think I'm missing something...."
The other man nodded, "That self credit stuff," he said carefully, missing the question's intent as the last drinks really began to settle in, "Not ego, the other stuff... esteem S' what you're missing. Don't let yourself have any 'tall."
Allen blinked. "Y'don't say," he answered mildly. "I'll... I'll work on it." Leaning quizzically against the doorframe, he regarded the other man. "If you don't mind my saying so, wise though you are, I think you might need some of that yourself."
"M' not wise, 'm drunk," he declared, "An if'm lucky, wont remember nothing tomorrow."
"If that's the case, what are you so afraid of?" Allen murmured, tilting his head.
"Thinking," Gaddes mumbled, trying to concentrate on the question, "S'easier when there's notta chance in hell. We're gonna get .. not drunk, and not gonna talk bout it again, but I'll still think. Hate it when that happens."
Allen left the door shut behind him and walked over to the second in command. "I can't figure out if you want to, or if you just like the idea, only not with me. I admit, my reputation doesn't give the best impression, but I don't remember ever sticking my neck out so far, just to feel the wind of something passing. The drink doesn't exist that could wipe this evening's conversation from my mind, nor would I want it to, but it might be a happier memory if I had some idea what the hell I did wrong."
"That's it," Gaddes said, using some degree of anger and the back of the chair to push himself to his feet. "Nothing. Notta thing wrong. I just wanna see you do something without turning around and regretting it ten minutes after it's done. M' not gonna be just another doubt. Rather be just another guy on the crew."
Allen's eyes widened but he met the other man's eyes without flinching. Taking a deep breath, he tried to think of some way to answer. How could he show no regret over an act that seemed unlikely to happen? "It's too late to be just another guy on the crew," he managed. "You'll have to settle for being just a guy I trust with my life... just a guy I'd take with me into a hall of truth... just a guy I'd *show* my doubts to, when I wouldn't show the rest of the damn world. Just a guy I'd want beside me no matter what the crazy world is doing." Shrugging slightly, he managed a bit of a smile. "You don't like it you can take it up with my first officer in the morning."
"Deserved that didn't I?" Gaddes said, rubbing the side of his face with the back of his hand. He had deflated during the course of the reply, and was now leaning against the sturdy wooden table behind him.
"Deserve?" Allen whispered, his expression crumbling into something vulnerable. "Deserve my trust? Yes. Deserve to have me prying into your life, trying to get more than friendship? Maybe not... I wish... I knew what to do." His hand lifted, extended slightly towards the other man and then slowly dropped.
"I'd have told anyone else to stuff it," Gaddes said. It took a second, long enough for Allen's hand to fall halfway, before he caught it. "Ya seem to think I know what to do any better."
Allen's fingers tightened around Gaddes'. "Hoped?" he offered, head tipping down slightly, but his eyes stayed on the other.
"M just as good at screwing up as the next guy," he said, "But you deserve to have it right for once, ya know?"
The blond shrugged a little helplessly. "And if you didn't have to worry about that?"
After a wide eyed look at the other man, Gaddes dropped his head and his shoulder shook with soft laughter. "We're right hopeless. The both of us."
Allen smiled at the sound without thinking. "Yeah? Tell me something I don't know?"
He thought a moment. "It wasn't a hangover that kept me down for half the morning after that no pants thing," he offered.
Allen choked slightly and swallowed with some difficulty, blinking like a somewhat startled puppy.
Gaddes shrugged and managed a rakish grin, "Was about the only thing you don't know at the moment..." He paused, thoughtfully, "That I can think of anyway."
"Um... right," Allen managed, a little hoarsely. Taking a deep breath, he took a step back. "I'm... going to my cabin. Um. And I'm going to be taking off my, um, pants." Shrugging with a near-sheepish smile at this elegant offering, he squeezed Gaddes's fingers and then headed back towards the door, throwing one look back over his shoulder.
It caught the other man looking a little shell shocked. The first mate seemed to snap out of it at the sound of the door opening. "Might need some help with those?"
Another look back and a flash of a smile covered by the swing of blond hair. "More than likely," the words back over Allen's shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.
The room was entirely empty not three heartbeats later.
In the tiny cabin, Van removed his borrowed sword, belt and boots, and found water to splash on his face. He pulled his red shirt from where it had hung on his belt and shrugged it on, leaving the laces open. Laying down on one of the two narrow bunks, he slipped onto his side, head resting on the crook of his arm and sought the other occupant with his gaze.
Dilandau had sat heavily on the opposite bed as soon as they'd reached the small room. As distant now as he'd spent the walk back, he rested mostly on one elbow, while in the other hand he ran the pendant in patterns through his fingers idlely. It was distracting. He knew Van's eyes were on him, she, every now and then gave a slight nudge as a reminder. But it was the reminder, the presence that was giving him the headache. He wasn't sure he was built for a split focus.
On another wordless, but more insistent push, he glanced up, then pushed himself back to lean on the wall beside the narrow bed. "Allen should be a while, if the errands were any indication," he mentioned.
"Hn," the king acknowledged with a soft sound. After a moment, he said, "Things are changing... aren't they?"
"Aa," the other boy agreed with something of a smirk, "But that's nothing new. Not lately anyway."
"Promise me," Van said suddenly.
Garnet eyes blinked once, then narrowed on Van, "Promise you what?"
"You said once that you would exist as long as I did." Van watched the albino steadily. "Promise."
"Breathe, actually," Dilandau replied absently. He waved a hand in a lazy dismissal of the matter, as the sharp attention left the boy. "I'd already promised you that."
Rising fluidly, Van crossed the small space and sat beside the other boy. He leaned close and looked eye to eye. "Don't forget," he said. His hand rose and settled on Dilandau's shoulder and he pressed his lips to Dilandau's mouth.
The Captain deepened the kiss willingly, sighing softly into the other's mouth as some internal argument settled, or at least was pushed aside in the face of a common interest. By the time it had broken, he'd relaxed several levels. "I won't," he agreed.
Van nodded, something relaxing in his eyes. Yes, it was a bit of fear. He settled against Dilandau. He shook his head. "You know them better than I... how bad is it that we've gone in the wrong direction?"
"If I knew them as well as I thought, we wouldn't have went in the wrong direction at all," Dilandau muttered, an angry edge creeping into his tone. "I don't know exactly, I've never even heard of them panicked before... but in their best, they're efficient... Whatever they're going to do, they won't take long to set in and do it."
The king's head bowed, shadowing his face under the unruly fringe of dark hair. His worries were uncoiling layer by layer. He could not imagine what the sorcerers might do to harm Fanelia. It chilled him. The only clues were Freid, and perhaps, Zaibach itself.
"On the plus side," Dilandau spoke up, "Your sword should be in Fanelia by the time we arrive."
Van blinked slightly, tilting his head to peer through his bangs at the other boy. He nodded slowly. "How did you know that?"
The albino threw Van an irritable glance. "Well, the pilot said it right in front of me in Bas..." Dilandau stopped in mid sentence, freezing.
The king nodded again. He reached up and ran carressing fingers through Dilandau's thick, silver hair. It was more an instinct to soothe, as well as an expression of an emotion that seemed unwilling to subside even in the face of other concerns.
"Or maybe not," he corrected himself weakly, leaning a little further into the contact and Van. "Doesn't matter," he said, not to anyone in particular.
"Matters," Van murmured. His fingers moved down to stroke the albino's neck on one side, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead on the other shoulder. "You were there." Turning his head, his lips sought the smooth skin at the jointure between Dilandau's neck and shoulder.
Dilandau lifted his chin, offering his neck like a cat and with the same closed-eye contentment at the treatment. "Sort of," he half agreed, slipping his arms to curl around the other boy.
Van's other arm burrowed behind Dilandau's back to complete the embrace. His hand drifted from the albino's neck to unfasten the upper clasps of his top, sliding inside to settle for a moment where he could feel a steady beat under the slender but smoothly developed chest. He continue to nuzzle the other boy's neck, finding a comfort that countered some of the rising alarm that thoughts of Fanelia in peril inevitably brought.
"Mm," The albino murmurered, the fingers of one tand threading and curling into wild dark hair while the other tugged at the back of Van's shirt, loosening the untied V in the front a little further.
Van leaned back for a moment, turning his body and using his arm around the other boy to urge him to shift position, laying him back on the narrow bunk and leaning on one side against him. The odd combination of comfort and alarm continued to spread through his system. He looked down for a moment, realizing that the face he looked into was as familiar to him as his sister, as deeply imprinted into his memory as his mother and father's. He closed his eyes and found the other boy's mouth, answering a rising need.
Dilandau's hands slid up under the back of Van's shirt, tracing a path along the spine, tehn skimming across warm skin and toned muscles beneath, pulling the king closer during the familiar carress. The slower wamrth intensified in itself, resonating with something he felt in the other boy. He leaned up into the kiss, demanding, even as he shifted a little where he lay to switch their positions.
The intangible shift was accepted, Van finding himself more on his back, immersing himself in the kiss and answering the demand without hesitation, throwing himself into the building combustion with the reckless intent he'd always seemed to show the other boy, in battle or in embrace.
In the midst of all the wordless emotions rolling throughthe albino's mind - Lust, love, an odd contentment, the need to fix or finish something unspoken - slid another, foreign one, just on the edges of the semi-conscious haze, curiosity. Half above Van, Dilandau froze again, before seeming to recoil suddenly with movement forced. In the split second before he closed them, normally red eyes were a muddy violet.
"Wait," he said after a moment, breathless, "... when this wears off..." /And it damn well better./
The sudden recoil caused Van's eyes to open wide, watching the mix of color in the eyes above before they closed. His arms tightened slightly. He waited a moment. "Dil...?"
Dilandau didn't respond immediately, but didn't fight the embrace either. It was a moment or two further before garnet eyes opened again. He barely acknowledged the distinct edged of concern and regret from somewhere else inside. He was too busy fighting off the urge to break into laughter. The dreams after Basram didn't just wear off either. Maybe a natural progression, and worse useless, in the way, and a cause of unnecessary worry. "You might," the boy said carefully, "Want to see if you can rouse the bastard in the hold."
Van leaned up suddenly, one elbow bending back to support him. "Escaflowne?"
Dilandau shook his head, the irrational grin he'd been fighting began to win out, "No, that's the bitch," he corrected. He pushed himself up as well to a sitting position, working the clasps back up his top. "I'm talking about the Madoushi."
Thoughts moving apace, Van arrived at the answer as Dilandau said it. His eyebrows drew together in a familiar scowl, more in reaction to the subject than in demur. He sat up as well, pulling on his boots and grabbing the borrowed sword out of reflex.
Dilandau got to his feet, pausing a moment to watch Van's action and ingore the headache that was causing black spots along the edges of his sight. The protests, now angry, nearly had words behind them, like a whisper just out of earshot. "No," he said, "I'll go with I think." And with only a slightest mistep, turned towards the door.
Van glanced back, taking in the signs of disturbance as well as the exertion of familiar, indominable will. Not certain where the impulse came from, he reached back, stopping the albino. He took Dilandau's hand and curled the fingers around the crystal. "Focus through it," he murmured. He brushed a wayward lock of silver hair back into place and then moved toward the door.
The change wasn't immediate, or perhaps even outwarly noticable to anyone but his companion, but a sort of distance settled in and was afforded to him. While it pushed the worst aside, it crystalized another aspect. He couldn't pretend he was alone any more, he could, with the channel, hear and feel the other perfectly.
Van headed down the corridor, mind racing furiously as he moved. He was realizing that the visit to the temple room was having lingering consequences for the silver haired boy, once enemy, now a bit more than lover. The Madoushi... might have answers about Fanelia's danger, though it remained to be seen if the creature would relinquish any. But Dilandau's problem was immediate, suddenly even urgent in Van's thoughts. He wished for the briefest of instants that he had Folken's knowledge, it might give him some way to help. He thought of the one thing his brother had given him -- an understanding of the dragons. Dragons... He realized that if he'd been in Fanelia, he'd have a strong impulse to go into the deep forest, and take the Captain with him. Dangerous... recklessly so, but somehow Van felt that the guardians of his land had secrets they might yet reveal, if he only knew how to ask.
Between one stride and the next, he made a possibly irrational decision and took a turn that went past the prisoner's room to the hold beyond.
Dilandau, in Van's wake had stopped at the hold door, ignoring the guard there. He shot Van's back a look mixed with confusion and rising irritation. "This ship isn't large enough to get lost in," he muttered, raising his voice to continue, "Where in the hells are you going?"
Van turned and beckoned with one hand. "Come... he's not going anywhere, we'll come back."
The albino looked torn for another moment, privately in the midst of another argument. The set of his shoulders fell with defeat. "Fine," he sighed, following the new direction the King had set.
A shadow flickered in Van's eyes as he watched the other's expressions. It was becoming clearer where the distress was coming from, and it gave him a chill.
Once inside the large hold where the melefs were secured, he looked around carefully, noting with relief that the place was deserted. His eyes fastened on Escaflowne, words of the priestess coming back to him. /The fourth connection roots too deep to pull out, break the root or break the soil./
"But I have to find a better way," he muttered, realizing he'd been running from this.
A silver eyebrow arched as Dilandau just barely caught the statement. He glanced around their destination with outward disinterest, though his attention lingered a little longer on the three melefs by the cargo doors. "To do what?" he asked, bringing himself alongside of the other boy.
"She said.... there are four where there should only be three," Van answered. "We haven't time to untangle all the riddles, Fanelia needs the Guardian. And I," he said, turning to look directly into garnet eyes, "Need you. Not like this. I need your strength, I need your mind, I need your instincts. We must find a way to balance this, if only for the time being."
Dilandau glanced back the way they came, towards the hold, then back. He shrugged, "That's what I intended to fix."
The king looked intently into Dilandau's face. "How?"
The Captain looked uncomfortable, both under the scrutiny and a pressure of a returning protest. "Like I said, wake up the bastard," he said, affecting a confident and arrogant tone. "And make a deal. You being there to make sure whatever he does isn't permanent. It's worked before."
THE END OF PART 43!