The smithy wasn't that far; it was in the far east corner of the city, where all craftsmen resided. From here already, Heero could hear the buzz of people shouting orders, loading and unloading carts, a butcher sharpening his knives while two cows waited dully outside. Men and women worked themselves busily through the crowds, running errands, trading, fetching things. He was grateful that he didn't need to be here every day; Heero had only been for one hour in the city and he already felt like he was suffocating.
Just like the other major parts in town, houses and buildings were primarily plastered white, with here and there soft yellow or very light blue colors used for a personal touch. Red, dark blue or dark gray roof tiles added to the diversity of the houses. Heero blinked a few times; were there really kids running over the sloped roofs? They looked like they were having fun while they dodged clothesline after clothesline and climbed over small iron grates of even smaller balconies and bay windows, making the buildings their own personal playground.
A few women were busy sweeping the streets, occasionally cursing when carts with large wheels passed by, stirring up clouds of dust and sand all over again. It was a real pandemonium of barking dogs, chickens, ducks and even two sheep wandering around as if they owned the city; one woman tripped over a cat and fell, arms flailing to catch her fall. He closed his ears for a loud string of very colorful expletives, waiting for two men on horses to pass before continuing his way.
Heero located the smithy, using his elbows to make a path for himself; no one paid attention to him, and he received quite the pokes back for not moving fast enough out of the way. He had been to Howard only once before; the man was known for helping out the poorer of people. Darlian wasn't exactly poor, but Howard never made a big deal when someone was a payment behind or couldn't cough up the gold immediately. A strange fellow, Heero thought, so trusting of people. The first thing he had learned was never to trust anyone in his life and to act purely on his emotions, what his instincts told him. Besides the Darlians, who had proved to be a real family and friends to him, hardly anyone was worthy of his trust.
When entering the workshop, Howard wasn't in sight, and the fires weren't burning. A hammer rested on the anvil, together with a few pliers. The windbag was put next to the fireplace, and looked unused for the day. There was a strange silence permeating the place; an unnatural silence.
"Howard?"
No answer. Heero was dumbfounded. It didn't look like Howard had gone out for an errand, he could see from afar that no one had worked in the smithy today. Deserted, that was what it was -- had Howard fled from the city? Most smiths would rub their hands with the prospect of war; good money was to be made off of weapons. Howard was one of the very few, if not the only one, to make effective, inventive tools; not as blunt or easily broken or destroyed like the others.
Calling for the man again, Heero walked around restlessly. The whole place looked like it had been abandoned for quite a while now. Suddenly he looked up, his eyes catching sight of a completely filled weapon rack. He frowned, extending his hand and touching them, out of curiosity. The blades were quite sharp and he withdrew his finger, hissing. He had cut himself!
"Can I help you?"
The gruff voice behind him didn't sound like Howard, and Heero jumped; it didn't happen that often that people managed to sneak up on him. For a smith, Howard certainly didn't look like one. He was wiry and small, not buffed or extremely strong as his fellow craftsman. He was a stranger to his peers anyway because he often passed up good jobs to invent and work on tools. He was generally clever and nice; Heero hadn't seen the man without his smile and a laugh.
"Howard, I didn't know you made weapons," he said almost accusingly, avoiding the urge to stick his finger into his mouth.
The man tugged at his moustache, shoulders in a slump. His clothing was ridiculously colorful, especially for a smith. The combination of a bright yellow vest with a red shirt and flaming green pants was too much on the eyes of any human being. Howard looked pensive though, and not like the cheerful, good-spirited man he usually was.
"Ah, it's you, Heero," he said and nodded. He relaxed a little in his presence, but made a dismissive gesture at the swords.
"Bah. Old work. Khushrenada has inquired with every smith in town if he's interested in working on weapons. He even went as far as to offer ten gold pieces for each sword."
Heero whistled.
"Ten?"
That was a year's worth of salary to him, even more -- he barely got paid as it was, just a small allowance. He already had board and lodging, and esshava Darlian took care of his clothing; what more could he want? He hardly spent money on anything anyway.
"Believe me boy, there's going to be war sooner than anyone thinks," Howard whispered, and looked to the left and right as if making sure that no one was eavesdropping on him.
"Why?" Heero asked. "Khushrenada hasn't declared war on us yet."
The smith shook his head in annoyance.
"There's no stopping the man's lust for power. Epyon country was one of the first to fall, and Romefeller is simply the next, so he can cross over to Maganac country."
Heero snorted. Darlian had a map of the world hanging in the living room, and though Heero couldn't read, the man had pointed out several countries and their characteristics to him.
"Maganac country is a desert, he'll get sand in his boots."
"No no," Howard objected, "Sandy and inhospitable as it might be, Maganac holds the richest mines of the world. Copper, silver, gold...even platinum. I tell you, we're the next to fall, and we're not going to resist because Noventa is deluded into thinking that everything will be all right as long as there is peace...but this is an artificial peace, a thin layer of veneer, and it'll soon crack and break. People are already calling on the streets for Darlian's return, and you know how much support he can count on."
"If that's just as much support as the people showed him before," Heero snorted. "No one protested when he was sent home."
"Don't be silly, boy," Howard spoke sharply. "There are more interests at stake here than only Darlian's. Khushrenada has a mage and an army of at least ten thousand well-trained soldiers, fitted with the best of swords and weapons the finest smiths could make, and he's constantly seeking ways to expand that army. What would you do if you were confronted with such an overwhelming power?"
"Fight," Heero answered stubbornly, and Howard laughed brusquely.
"Not everyone might be as strong and brave as you are, son," the smith said. He sounded amused, not offended. "Politics are dirty business. You better stay far, far away from it and just work on your farm and pray that no war will ever tear this land apart. Because it's a good country, we can manage, and we don't need usurpers like Khushrenada."
Howard suddenly moved forward, moving the swords out of the way as if he was looking for something. He didn't cut himself at all.
"The anvil is cold," Heero finally commented. "I came here to pick up some tools, but it looks like..."
"Mm-hmm," the man muttered. "I'm no longer in the business. If there's one thing that I despise, it's being pressured into making weapons. The Treize Faction running around town is only the beginning, and I don't want Khushrenada or his mage himself on my doorstep to tell me what to do."
He suddenly pulled out a large wooden staff with a pointy...thing fixed to the head. Heero looked at it, wondering what Howard was talking about.
"So you really think war is coming, then?"
"Khushrenada wants Maganac country," the man answered, nodding. "We'll fall easily in his hands: no army, no defense, and a spineless esshan-dar that will believe anything that's being said to him as long as it contains the word 'peace'. Khushrenada will use our country as personal stock and supplier for his army, and he'll move right on, claiming those mines, enslaving the natives and forcing them to work for him. Only, Maganac country will fight back, for as long as it takes."
"Why are Khushrenada's men already in town?"
"Why? Because the man wants it, that's why. And unless there's someone willing to stand up against him, we're going to be crushed like a nut between Oz and Maganac, that's for sure. After we served our purpose as personal supplier, we'll be burned and pillaged and there will be nothing left of our nation. Here, take this."
Heero couldn't keep a surprised look from his face when the smith trusted the staff into his hands. It was long, reaching far above his head, and carved out of fine, supple wood, along with some strange markings on the bottom. The head was simple iron, shaped like a trident with exceedingly sharp blades.
"This is a sollevar," Howard said. "It's a nice weapon, and the only one I've ever been able to make, besides from those swords over here."
Heero moved it around. It felt extremely light despite the intricate, large iron head. He swung it a few times, and it already felt familiar in his hands -- which was strange, as he had never wielded a sword or any other weapon before. His fingers touched the long staff, tracing over the markings. He assumed they were words. Keeping it between his fingers, already attached to it, he looked up curiously at Howard.
"I want you to have it," the smith suddenly said, his voice sounding strange. "I don't have any use for it, and I don't want it to fall into the wrong hands."
Heero offered the weapon back to him. "I don't have any money to pay for it." Any handcrafted weapon like this would at least be a fifty gold pieces, and his small allowance wasn't going to cover that in years.
The man shook his head. "No, you don't have to pay for it."
"I can't accept it," Heero refused. It didn't feel right to accept this. He had lived his life without taking things from others, not without doing something for it in return, and this weapon was too valuable to even be a gift. A noble knight should wield this, not a farm boy. He didn't need a weapon in the first place, and what would the Darlians say when he came home with it?
"Take it," Howard said, all but commanding -- his voice made sure that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "This is your last chance to get it out of the city before anyone will notice it or confiscate it. There isn't much time. As soon as you're gone, I'll destroy the swords here. No one will say about Howard the smith that he contributed to the war."
"But if you give me this..." He was reluctant to accept, even though the weapon felt... comfortable in his hands, as if it had always belonged there. "If you give me this, and I'm going to fight with it one way or the other, you've contributed to the war after all."
The man chuckled, and he plucked at his moustache. "I would be contributing to another war if you wield this, Heero. A good war."
He gaped at him, starting to get convinced that the smith had lost his mind. With his fingers still around the shaft, he finally accepted it, but his voice was a little hesitant. A good war?
"Why are you giving me this, then?"
Howard had walked to the back of his workshop, searching for the tools Heero was supposed to be picking up. He looked over his shoulder every now and then, as if he was making sure that Heero still had the weapon.
"It'll become clear to you later, son. I want you to take it, and -- ah, here's a nice one."
He pulled out a large, sturdy shovel and a hoe from another rack, walked back to Heero and handed them to him.
"Darlian is a good man, and he deserves better than this. He and his daughter. This one is also free of charge."
"Why are you doing this? I have money for the tools," Heero said. Which craftsman gave his work away for free? Howard simply laughed.
"You will thank me sometime soon."
"I can thank you right now," Heero answered. He knew the smith to be a little eccentric, but this was really too much. Howard plucked at his moustache once again, a sad look crossing his face.
"I have one more thing to say to you, son, and then you should go. If..." He took a deep gasp of breath. "Find yourself a priest of Maxwell Church. He can help you. Now go...go!"
"What? I don't need a priest..." Heero was now really convinced that the man had lost it. What would he ever need a priest for? The smith started to shoo him out of his workshop.
"Go, just go!"
Heero had no choice but to leave. Right after he stepped over the threshold, the heavy wooden door closed behind him, missing his ankles by an inch. What was wrong with the man? He stared at the shovel, the hoe and the sollevar as if they were going to bite him. He would have to inspect them very, very closely before working with them.
It was already afternoon and time to go home -- he had no business left in the city and he wanted to get away. Passing a large square where usually the market was being held, he stopped by the immense fountain in the center to help himself to a small drink. It was a granite, octagonal fountain with crystal clear water; lots of people drank from it. The middle of the fountain, where the water was spraying from, was carved from an unknown type of stone, and consisted of five statues. The constant running of the water and time through the ages had worn the statues down, making it difficult to see what or who they exactly represented.
Everyone knew it was a reference to a vague legend, a monument to commemorate five special people, five 'warriors' who had made a pact in the name of their respective countries: Romefeller, Epyon, Oz, Nataku and Maganac. Those five had managed to shape their countries into one respectable union, fending off enemies, bring prosperity and wealth, and forming a very strong defensive relationship and the passageway to the mythical kingdom of Sanq.
This legend was told differently every time as there was no official source, and not many people believed in it. There were no written records of this Sanq kingdom save for some of the text carved in the statues, preaching about a true paradise of peace. Two of the five had been identified as mages, judging from the staffs they were carrying. The countries they were hailing from was simply assumed, as their names showed up first in history records.
As Heero never had been to school, he didn't know the details -- and he didn't care. The work at the farm was more important to him than just a legend that nobody even knew the right version of. He washed his hands in the fountain and was about to leave when three men casually sauntered across the square, talking to each other in hushed voices. Mages in training; they were easily recognized by their robes that fell to their ankles, enveloping them from head to toe.
They had some nerve, parading around here as if everything was all right and peachy. Despite Noventa's policy of peace and tolerance, not even he had been able to take away the reigning prejudice and fear for mages, for anyone who could wield magic. People didn't look kindly upon mages walking around without being adequately accompanied -- preferably by guards or soldiers. Yet, these three -- they were in training because they lacked their staff, every fully trained mage was obliged to carry one to identify him or herself -- acted as if they owned the city. Brawn or simply no brains?
Heero decided that it was wise to stay out of this, and hid the sollevar from view by putting the large blade of the shovel over it. He had the feeling the mages would question him about it if they saw it. Howard had acted very mysteriously about the weapon, and even more so, the man had behaved completely...strange, out of his mind. Maybe he could talk to Darlian about it.
He left the city through the main gate and though people looked a little strangely at him, he didn't encounter any trouble, nor did he see the captain of the Treize Faction again. No one said anything about his weapon as far as they were able to identify it, stuck between the shovel and the hoe, but he felt a strange gust of relief when he reached the Darlian farm lying between the hills.
Rumors of war grew rapidly stronger the next few days, the unspoken threat and fear present everywhere. Heero often found himself using his sollevar in mock-battle, practically enamored with the weapon. As long as nobody saw it, and certainly not Relena, he felt safe enough to wield it.
He had his own schedule to keep, and he made sure he finished his daily work before training with the weapon. It was amazing how light and familiar it felt despite its large iron head, and it became a irrefutable extension of his body. He felt strangely naked without the sollevar in his hands, but he couldn't go around carrying it all day. The weapon was stored in his room above the barn, and Heero regretted that there was no one who could train him properly, but he was not going to ask Darlian of all people if he knew a weapon master.
Meanwhile, Khushrenada's men, the Treize Faction, had become a part of daily life in the city and started to scour the lands and harass the farmers. More members of the Treize Faction arrived in Romefeller country, and not all of them were well-behaved. Besides rumors of war, rumors about excessive taxes and pillages grew stronger with every passing day.
The farmers felt their freedom slowly being stripped away. An order was unexpectedly issued by esshan-dar Noventa prohibiting all trade with the city. Only the Treize Faction was allowed to trade between farmers and the townsfolk, and they were allowed to set the prices and conditions as they saw fit, no matter how impossible, ridiculous or even below actual market value.
It caused a lot of annoyance and grievance as the farmers were forced to sell against extremely low prices, knowing that the Treize Faction would resell it for far higher profits, forcing the townsfolk to pay what they asked. Darlian's farm was visited more often than not by the neighboring farmers, discussing and complaining about the situation. They all reached quickly the conclusion that the future was looking bleak if Noventa kept granting the Treize Faction and Khushrenada more of these privileges. It was however a completely different thing what they were supposed to do about it.
Heero didn't meddle with the on-going discussions; Darlian had experience enough with politics and he was just simply a servant. They would probably chase him out of the room if he were present, unlike Relena who actively participated. She didn't speak to Heero about what was exactly discussed; she didn't want to bore him or ruin their conversation with heavy politics.
It was just a day like any other day when she sought him out again for another lunch. Relena had taken the opportunity to change into a beautiful blue dress, not suitable for work, but very well fitting for a nice, casual lunch. She had shortened the dress a little, the garment reaching just over her knees, and made ribbons from the remaining fabric to tie off her braids. They went to sit on their own spot, the other side of the hill, looking out over the city.
She was uncharacteristically silent when taking out the food from the basket; warm bread, home-made cheese and sausage. She had even brought hard-boiled eggs and two large pickles. He helped her put everything out, taking the heavy jug of -- cool -- water from her and putting it on the piece of cloth serving as table linen.
"Something on your mind?" It sounded brusque, but he was genuinely worried for her. She was his friend, and whatever she might think of him, he didn't want to let her down.
"I'm afraid, Heero," she said after a short moment of hesitation, "afraid that war will break out, and that people will fight...and die...and leave our country in shambles."
"You can't keep people from feeling what they feel or the events from happening as they happen," he pointed out. "With the exception of a few, most people don't like fighting or a war any better than you do...but the way Khushrenada and his men are present here, how they are treating the citizens...it's not surprising that there is a lot of anger and dissatisfaction. It's in man's nature to stand up against tyranny." He wasn't so sure if his words were true. After all, Noventa all but cooperated to turn his country over to the usurper Khushrenada had proven himself to be.
"War is awful, people should strive for peace, not anything else," she murmured. Her fingers crumbled a slice of cheese into tiny bits, falling on the grass. "Even when they talk to my father, they want to know how to make their own army, and their weapons, and the best way to fight. The only farmer-friendly smith has long since left the city..."
"Howard?"
"Yes, Howard, where you got your tools," she answered, almost absent-mindedly. "My father told me he has left the town, and he's not the only one. A number of good people are leaving, because they see and fear what's coming."
"Why is your father staying, then?" Heero had felt the unease rising as of late. Darlian had been taking their prize-winning stallion Vayeate for 'rides', but Heero had seen him once traveling directly to the city. He hadn't thought anything about it, assuming that Darlian wanted to relive his earlier fame as high-esteemed member of the local government, but now he changed his mind. Relena's father would never answer with a war, and he wasn't opposed to Khushrenada's interference per se as long as the citizens were left in peace. Was the man trying to reestablish his earlier position of power?
"Father doesn't want to abandon the people," Relena nodded. Heero's face flushed; he hadn't realized he had voiced his thoughts out loud. "It's not their fault that Noventa send him home. He's trying to talk to him, as he experiences first-hand the growing unrest from the farmers...it's all a hot-bed of tensions, and it's only the question of who's going to ignite it first."
Her appetite seemed to have vanished, so she put down the slice of cheese, as far as she hadn't shredded it. She was restless, he could tell; these times were bad on anyone's nerves. Heero hadn't known war in his young life; Romefeller country had never known such problems and had just been what it always had been -- the daily grind, ups and downs, nothing more.
Any problems plaguing the country was something to solve for the government or people in power Heero didn't feel attached to; it was only when he came into Darlian's service that he learned more about the people behind the power, and how politics worked in general. He didn't like it that he knew too little about these sorts of things. Despite being just a servant, Heero wasn't stupid. He never forgot what people told him, and though he wasn't ashamed of asking questions if he really didn't understand something, he preferred to avoid it. Darlian was one of the few people who had books in their possession and had started to teach him how to read, but his lessons were irregular at best.
"He sure has good faith in them," Heero said, chewing on a slice of bread, referring to Relena's father putting himself on the line for the citizens. The girl nodded, her face darkening in thought.
"He believes in second chances and in the good of people, yes," she agreed. "I'm sure that he can talk to esshan-dar Noventa and convince him to take back his position, and to do something about..." Her words suddenly stuck in her throat, and Heero didn't have to ask her what was going on.
Black clouds of smoke colored the sky, carrying the heavy smell of fire and burning wood with them. Heero jumped up, dropping his piece of bread in the grass.
"Heero! The farm...the farm!" Relena screamed.
Her words came from somewhere far away, he was already running. His feet stomped on the grass, his pace too fast for anyone, even in good physique, to keep up with. Boiling hot anger overwhelmed him. The farm was on fire, the flames burning through the roof, and he could already hear the large support beams groaning. Men on horses wandered around the farm, carrying torches in their hands while they laughed and yelled in uproar.
"Bastards!" Heero yelled and jumped, grabbing one man at the leg, almost throwing him out of the saddle. The horse whinnied, lifting its legs to jump away while its rider whacked with the torch at Heero. He recognized the colors of the man's armor -- the typical dark green with dark yellow markings and the strange caps on the back of his head -- Treize Faction.
"Let go, you filthy servant," the man hissed and struck at him again with the torch, and the heat scorched strands of hair. Heero had to let go, out of fear that his face would be burned.
The man immediately drove his heels into the horse's sides, spurring it on to jump away. Heero was thrown to the ground, the large animal storming away too quickly to avoid. His shoulder was hit with the rear end of the torch, and pain erupted as he gritted his teeth -- no one would taste the satisfaction of hearing him yell in pain.
Ignoring his shoulder, Heero rolled and got up again, running towards the east side of the farm, towards the large barn. He heard Relena yelling and caught a glimpse of her -- in the same split second that he saw her, he noticed that she had brought the picnic basket with her, including the blanket. She was close to the backdoor of the farm.
"Mother! Father!"
"Get away from there!" he roared as a large support beam crumbled and came crashing down. "Relena!"
He couldn't see her anymore, thick black clouds obscuring his vision and separating them from one another. Coughing, Heero continued running. There was one thing, besides saving the Darlians, that stood out on his mind -- he wanted his sollevar. The weapon was priceless to him; he wanted to save it from the flames, and he made his way to the barn, jumping over the smoldering remnants of the doors to get in.
There wasn't an animal in sight. He didn't see any cadavers, so he assumed the animals had either escaped or were confiscated by the Treize Faction to serve their own purposes. He raced up the wooden stairs, taking three steps at once, and jumped on his bed -- more like a sleeping-bag in the hay, and he rolled over the extra blankets -- nothing.
A string of curses rolled over his lips as he got up from his bed, taking the stairs down again and left the barn quickly; the wood was already smoldering and the roof was creaking dangerously. It was pretty much clear that neither the farm nor the barns could be saved; the fire was too intense, too much, too fast. Heero had counted in his haste more than six men on horses; they had methodically lit the buildings in every corner. Nothing would survive that.
As he ran outside again, three soldiers were standing next to each other, one on his horse and the other two next to him. They didn't carry torches; they had probably left them at the corners to do their destructive work. Enraged, Heero ran towards them, just in time to see the man on the horse pulling out a sword, the man to his left too and...the man to the right carrying his sollevar.
Heero lunged for him, his hands immediately grabbing the handle of the weapon. The man cried out in surprise, clearly having underestimated Heero's strength, but he wasn't about to give up that easily. Grunting, the man pulled the weapon towards him, and Heero quickly stepped to the side taking the man with him, turning him around so the other ended up with his back facing the man to the left, who already had lifted up his sword for a dashing strike.
Noticing that it was his fellow soldier whose back was turned to him now, the man tried to swing his sword away, but it was too late to alter it, the force of his swing struck the other soldier. He screamed out in pain and let go of the sollevar immediately, grabbing his shoulder and sinking to his knees on the ground, cursing madly.
The soldier still standing immediately shifted his position and grabbed the handle of his sword with two hands, as Heero lifted up the much lighter sollevar and poked with it in the man's direction. The other's eyes went from slightly worried to frowning. His heavy broadsword was a match for Heero's weapon; but it remained to be seen if he was fast enough to avoid the fast attack speed when wielding such a heavy weapon himself.
The man on the horse carried a much lighter rapier and slashed at Heero, roaring in triumph. Warned by the noise, Heero quickly turned around on his feet to avoid the oncoming attack, using the length of his sollevar to strike at the soldier with the broadsword. The soldier had taken too long to contemplate his next move, and suffered another strike, resulting in a superficial wound across his chest. He moved away, dropping his sword, and he was immediately dismissed by Heero who had to block the attack of the man on the horse. The rapier hit the sollevar full force, sending sparks flying despite the staff of the weapon being made out of wood. He didn't hesitate a second before the rider could strike again; shifting his stance, he cut the man in his right side, the sollevar slashing through armor and flesh. With a high-pitched scream, the man fell out of the saddle as the horse bucked, the scent of blood making it wild.
The foot soldier had simply decided to attack full-force as he thought Heero to be too occupied with the rider to suspect his next attack, and swung his broadsword once again. Heero moved away from the prancing horse, evading its strong legs, turning around in time to face the attacking soldier, lifting up his sollevar in a last-ditch effort to avoid the sword cleaving his head. To his surprise, the sword was stopped by the sollevar, which by all means should have been split in two.
Heero grunted; despite his weapon not breaking, the force of the other's blow was almost driving him into the ground. He tried to overthrow the soldier, and gritted his teeth in his effort, breath coming in painful gasps. The man strengthened his footing, and the two other soldiers were slowly getting up from the ground; one clutching his shoulder and the former rider clutching his side, a grimace on his face. They were injured, but not incapacitated enough to be totally harmless.
With a deep grunt, Heero finally pushed the foot soldier away, the man staggering backwards with a surprised look on his face. He immediately swung his sollevar around, this time slashing open the approaching soldier's intestines, and he went down again screaming, hands in front of his stomach, blood dripping through his fingers. The horseless rider briefly looked at his fallen comrade abhorrently, but quickly focused his attention on Heero again, rapier in hand.
He twirled his sollevar around and noticed the soldier's focused eyes. They were darting towards the weapon, not to Heero himself. The sollevar. Why had Howard exactly given it to him, and what exactly had the smith given him? How had it been able to withstand the blow of a broadsword without splitting? How could there be sparks when the steel of the rapier hit the wooden shaft? Why was the rider looking at the weapon with more fear in his eyes than at Heero? There was no time to contemplate now, and he had to dodge the man's attack.
The hilt of the rapier hit the trident-shaped head of the sollevar, and this time even bigger sparks flew. Heero shifted his stance, moving around, cursing himself mentally -- he didn't possess fluency or skill enough to wield the weapon proficiently in battle. He stabbed and struck with it like the first-class peasant he was; he knew that the sollevar in the hands of a weapon master would be invincible. It was flexible, it was strong, and it was razor sharp. He also knew that most of his hits were just pure luck. He was going to get in over his head if this fight took to long.
The rider was far more skilled with the rapier, and obviously thought he was standing a chance, judging from his confidence returning. He even approached Heero, trying to drive him into a corner -- or in this case, into the burning barn. The man didn't need all his experience in battle to notice Heero's clumsy moves compared to his own. He tried to lunge at Heero again, and this time he managed to cut him. Heero hissed in pain, warm blood welling up across his chest.
His defense was down, and the soldier with the broadsword was approaching him from the back, trapping him between his comrade and the burning barn. Two trained military men against a simple servant; he could see their confidence grow with each passing second. They had noticed that he handled the weapon like a beginner and considered him killing the first soldier a fluke, a sick bit of beginner's luck.
Heero quickly figured out they were going to drive him into the burning flames. He swung the sollevar in front of him, fighting for a bit of space. Though he succeeded in driving them a few steps back, apprehensive looks on their faces, it didn't help him much. He was running out of time. He had to dispose of these two; the sounds of the farm burning and crashing down grated his ears...and he feared that the Darlians were still inside.
"You'll pay for killing Walker," the rider hissed at him.
"You'll pay for burning down the farm," Heero hissed right back at him, his knuckles turning white from his grip on his sollevar.
"Don't mess around with the Treize Faction, boy," the other soldier snorted. "You're lucky enough to still be alive. Consider it an honor to be killed by us!"
With that, the rider lunged at him again and Heero brought up his sollevar to block the blow, but from the corner of his eye he noticed the soldier with the broadsword also lunging at him. This was it. No way he was able to block two attacks at once. The man was going to pierce right through his neck, the force of his impact hard enough to sever his head completely...it was all a matter of seconds, but Heero refused to close his eyes for what was coming; he just stared at the soldier, sword engulfed in flames, as it reflected the burning farm behind him.
A matter of seconds, and in the same short time span everything changed. Before the soldier could finish his attack, broadsword swinging, he cried out, more in surprise than from pain. He was thrown to the ground, the sword missing Heero's neck by just a few millimeters.
"Vayeate!"
Never before had he been so happy to see Relena's horse. The gray stallion whinnied loudly, moving its legs to trample on the soldier. His screams of agony were smothered pretty quickly, and Heero dismissed the man as soon as he saw the horse. Sweaty, bloodied and face blackened by the smoke, he turned to take on the last soldier with the rapier -- but the man stared at both Heero and Vayeate, suddenly dropping his weapon and running for his life. If it weren't for a bloodcurdling scream coming from the farm, Heero would have gone into pursuit.
"Relena!"
He immediately ran back to the farm, sollevar tight in his hand, faintly realizing Vayeate was following him, his hoofs stomping on the ground. The barn was lost, being built from less sturdier wood and materials than the farm. The door was blocked by the support beam that had cracked earlier and was completely burnt through. The heavy smoke and sky rising dark clouds impaired his vision.
"Relena! Where are you!"
"Heero, in here!"
Her voice was weak and immediately followed by violent coughing. She was inside the farm, as he had feared, probably with her parents; how was he ever able to rescue three people? The window to the far left wasn't completely damaged by the fire and impulsively, Heero took off his torn shirt and used it to cover his nose and mouth.
"Relena! I can't see you!"
"The living room..."
He was so familiar with the farm that he could find his way blindfolded, but his eyes stung from the smoke and his lungs were burning, struggling for fresh air. Heero took careful steps forward, annoyed that he couldn't move quickly. The fire obstructed his passage here and there, flames roaring, and he needed to turn around a few times.
"Relena!"
An awful creaking noise made him halt and look up, but he couldn't see a thing. After a minute or so, Heero went on, hissing every now and then, ignoring his protesting lungs and tearing eyes. Everything radiated the intense heat, the wood was smoldering, and the other support beams and even the walls could give way any moment now.
Coughing, he finally found Relena in the living room, on her knees and crying, her face blackened and tear-streaked. The fire greedily moved upwards here, through the open hole in the roof; here was where the first support beam had fallen. Heero heaved a grievous sigh when he saw who the beam had fallen upon. He could only pray to the Twelve that esshava Darlian's death had been instantaneous and merciful. Darlian himself, however, was still alive, his face twisted in pain.
"Father! Mother..." Relena cried, her blue dress torn and scorched. One of her braids was undone, ribbon missing, the strands plastered to her cheeks.
"Relena," Heero repeated her name again and took her gently by the upper arm. Darlian would die any moment now; there was nothing they could do for him.
"Heero, you have to save my father! Help me remove the beam...mother!"
"Please stand up," Heero said, shaking his head. Even if they managed to lift the beam together, Darlian would die very soon -- it was already a miracle he survived this long. The girl made an awkward move to get up, clinging to Heero, but her father grabbed the frayed hem of her dress, and she immediately fell down on her knees again.
"Relena, listen to me," he said, voice croaking and barely audible. He coughed, and his face showed the pain of how much effort it took him to speak.
"Relena, listen...you're not our daughter. We...we adopted you as a young baby...my wife...she couldn't...Relena, you're a Peacecraft...remember that, please..."
"Father, no..."
"Sanq... Go to Sanq, they will save you there."
"Father, don't be silly," Relena said between hiccups and cries. Her hand rested on his, her other hand on his face as to protect it from touching the ground. She had seen the beam, she knew it had crushed his body, but her troubled mind didn't want to accept reality or his words. Heero knelt down, trying to get Relena up again with both his hands.
"Heero," the man immediately addressed him.
"Esshan Darlian," he answered, not abandoning his habits even in this moment of time.
"Promise me that you will protect her," the man said. "At whatever cost, at whatever price. Protect her and make sure she reaches Sanq, Heero."
"I...I promise," Heero said and the man simply nodded at him, relief visible. A serene grace came over his face, his eyes displaying acceptance and the knowledge that at least his daughter was going to be safe.
"Father! Father!"
The creaking of the roof increased, indicating that it would give way soon. Heero knew that there was nothing he could do for Darlian and his wife, no matter how hard his heart cried. He would save their daughter and protected her as he promised. With all his strength he started to drag her out of the burning farm, crying and screaming for her parents.
He had lost his shirt along the way, and his eyes were stinging as if they wanted to burst out of his head. The coughing was killing him, lungs protesting, he needed fresh air, breath... gasping, he finally made his way out, falling forward and taking Relena with him in his fall, rolling over the grass, away from the flames and the intense heat. She was yelling, crying and fighting in an attempt to make him let go of her -- her eyes were fixed on the farm as she cried.
"Don't look!" He brusquely pulled her down again, knocking the wind out of her. Relena gave an indignant yelp and gasped for air, coughing and crying at the same time.
"Father, father...! Mother...mother!"
The tears on Heero's cheeks weren't from the stinging smoke alone. He coughed violently, his voice hoarse and croaked when he tried to tell her again not to look...but Relena did look after all. She looked at the farm, and how the smoke wreathed along the sky, black clouds in a darkening sky. Tears rolled over her cheeks, but her mouth didn't move and not another cry came over her lips. Heero didn't like her silence; it was deafening, painful and uncomfortable.
Her watery eyes kept staring at the destructive fire, wiping out her youth, her past, her life. He remained standing next to her, wondering if he should wrap his arm around her. Relena had always done the consoling if need be, and now he needed to say the words that would bring her comfort...but he couldn't find any. That alone made him even sadder, and he swallowed thickly. How could he protect her, live up to his promise, if he didn't even know how to deal with...with this?
The horse had sneaked up very quietly on the both of them, bumping its nose against Relena's back. She turned around, shocked, but a small smile broke through on her face when she saw the animal.
"Vayeate! Oh Vayeate..." The girl embraced the horse's neck as much as she could and cried into its mane. The stallion snorted, but allowed the tight grip she had on him.
Heero peered at the fire from the distance, watching how the once proud and strong farm was reduced to rubble. A large part of the roof caved in, taking a few walls and the chimney with it. Relena didn't see this, as she was crying against the large horse, and he was grateful for it. The thought of the bodies in the farm...the Darlians hadn't deserved this.
"Relena...we need to go."
"Where are we going to?" Her voice was soft, laced with small sobs.
"We don't know if Khushrenada's men are still roaming around," Heero said. This wasn't the right time to tell her he had killed two of them, something the Treize Faction wouldn't be happy about. More than probably, they would put a price on his head for killing the soldiers.
"They're gone, Heero," she said, almost admonishing him. "There's nothing to find here but...smoldering ruins." It came out harshly...far too harsh for a girl like her.
"We'll go to Sanq," he answered, remembering what Darlian had said. His eyes widened when Relena suddenly started to laugh, throwing her head back, laughing hysterically.
"Sanq? You know what Sanq is, don't you?"
"Sort of," he replied. The fountain in the middle of the city came to his mind. The statues with the worn down carvings...the warriors in a wasteland, protecting a kingdom surrounded by myths. Legend upon legend.
Relena's face saddened as she brusquely wiped her tears away.
"It's a kingdom out of fairy tales. It doesn't even exist," she muttered and that was all she said. She swayed on her feet and would have keeled over if he hadn't quickly caught her.
As soon as Heero put her on the back of the horse, she started crying again, silently. He held the sollevar in his right hand, the weapon light and comfortable, not hindering him as he mounted the horse. He grabbed the reins, but suddenly Relena shot upright, eyes large.
"Heero, wait!"
"What's wrong?"
She was off the horse faster than he could blink; she took a few steps towards the ruins and picked something up, returning to Vayeate and allowing Heero to help her up again. He frowned lightly, noticing what she had taken with her; the picnic basket. Keeping Relena in front of him, sollevar in his right hand, he held the reins and spurred Vayeate into a fast gallop.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 |