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Detour	By : RoseThorne Category: +S to Z > Slayers Views: 3318 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Detour

by Rose Thorne

Disclaimer: Slayers is owned by a bunch of folks who aren’t me. I’m borrowing them for my perverse pleasure, much as Xellos borrows emotions for his.

Chapter Thirty

It was disconcerting, almost dizzying, to wake feeling warm after falling unconscious in the snow. The warmth cushioned him, shielded his senses, leaving him floating in a comfortable, sleepy void.
Slowly, sensations and sounds broke through, fuzzy at first, but then becoming more specific. The feeling of a springy mattress and a heavy blanket. The sound of familiar snoring—Gourry’s—nearby. The more distant rattle of a window and muffled whistle of wind.
Zelgadis resisted waking, wanting to return to that safe, quiet, comfortingly warm void for a while, but other sensations were breaking through—an urgent need to use the facilities and ravenous hunger at the forefront.
When he managed to force his eyes open, he found himself staring at another unfamiliar ceiling. Gourry was spread-eagle atop the covers beside him sleeping, which certainly explained the proximity of the snoring, and beyond the window was an undulating wall of white, which meant they likely had a few more days of storm to go. Zel wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a stall—they were operating on borrowed time. At any moment, the remaining Mazoku lords might realize what was going on, and then…
Xellos, he realized, was absent. It was one of the first times in recent memory he had woken without the Mazoku nearby. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but he pushed the matter to the back of his mind for the moment.
He sat up slowly, trying not to jostle the blond, and was a bit amazed to find that it wasn’t a struggle against complete exhaustion. He was still tired—though by the time they could travel again he’d likely be recovered, barring another attack—but not to the point where he could barely move. He just wasn’t particularly up to moving quickly. Or far, for that matter. At least he was able to make it to the facilities adjoining their room without too much difficulty.
By the time he got out of the bathroom, Gourry was sitting up. Zel was surprised to see the relief on his face—but, then, Gourry could sleep through an earthquake and had likely been concerned by his absence. His concern was within the realm of possibilities, and that was a sobering thought.
“They didn’t get me,” Zel murmured.
The blond rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. “I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. Sorry.”
Zel shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t like the idea that he had to be protected like some sort of damsel in distress, but what really bothered him was that it was true. Under the circumstances, he wouldn’t have been able to defend himself—or even resist—and that feeling of weakness was really the problem. Gourry might not have been able to fight effectively against Mazoku without magic, but he did feel better knowing the blond could at least raise the alarm. Thinking about it, the shaman wasn’t sure whether there was imminent danger, given that the other Mazoku had been destroyed, and the rest of their attackers had been human. Perhaps the storm actually was a boon. Xellos would likely know… but was trusting him wise?
Despite his nature, the Mazoku had saved his life on multiple occasions of late, had protected him from attacks, had even attempted to keep him healthy—and often at great personal risk and against his own race’s interests. How often had Zel woken to find Xellos watching over him or nearby, an oddly protective figure? The Mazoku had admitted he didn’t want to kill him, had stated outright he would rather Zelgadis live. His troubled face, trying to help him in the Armory, as vague and shadowy as the memory was, popped into Zel’s mind, the words he had spoken… ‘Because I wanted to.’
But why?
Or was Zelgadis searching for an ulterior motive that didn’t exist? If true, it was unfamiliar territory, troubling. Lately Zel had been dealing with nothing but trouble.
Gourry broke a silence that the chimera hadn’t realized was stretching between them. “I bet you’re hungry. I can go get something for you.”
Zel shook his head; he knew he didn’t want to be caught without back-up, even if he was awake. “I can get dressed.”
“Er…” Gourry looked uncomfortable again. “Your clothes are at a tailor.”
Zel sighed. He should have expected that, after the past few days. His clothing had been torn apart in those battles. And, unfortunately, it wasn’t like any of them carried extra clothing, which meant he only had the inn’s pajamas to wear and no ability to disguise his features. Ergo, he was stuck in this room for the duration of the storm. He didn’t want or need any more problems than he already had.
“You needn’t worry, Gourry-san.”
To Zel’s annoyance, he was the only one to jump. Gourry didn’t seem surprised in the least by Xellos’ sudden appearance. Go figure. The Mazoku beamed at him, probably amused at startling him. He tried to ignore the fact that his presence was reassuring, though Xellos could probably sense it anyway.
“You don’t have to go anywhere else, Xellos?”
Gourry made it sound like he’d been in and out and running errands, and Zel wondered what exactly he had missed—and whether anyone intended to clue him in. And did he want to know, at this point?
From the conversation after the last battle, Zel could only guess it had something to do with stalling Beastmaster, as insane as that sounded, regardless of the fact that he was no longer her servant. Stalling his former master from discovering the danger Zel’s existence posed to them? He wasn’t sure he could see the Mazoku logic in that, not that he’d ever been very good at understanding their motivations—and especially Xellos’.
Xellos was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
Zelgadis was too tired to deal with this, too tired to think about everything that had happened, about Xellos’ mysterious comment, ‘My motivations are my own.’ Why would he feel a motivation to help Zel, to protect him? There was something more there, but the chimera just didn’t have the focus to think on it. At this point, he was relieved to know Xellos wasn’t an enemy at the moment—and that what had happened in Seyruun had a cause he could now understand and hopefully avoid.
“For the moment, no.” The Mazoku leaned his staff against the wall and took a seat in the rickety old armchair provided by the inn, clearly indicating he intended to stay.
“Okay, then!” Gourry headed to the door. “I’ll get some food and be back, okay, Zel?”
He didn’t wait for the chimera to reply before disappearing into the hallway, leaving Zelgadis alone with Xellos.
--
Xellos studied Zelgadis in silence, allowing it to stretch between them for a while. It was punctuated only by the slight rattle of the storm against the window. Sleep had clearly helped the youth, but the exhaustion was still present. With everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks—to say nothing of what may have occurred when he was in the clutches of the sorcerers—he was in severe need of time to recover. It seemed, fortunately, this storm might provide just that.
Zelgadis’ emotions were an interesting mix, a bit difficult to interpret, but near the forefront was a healthy amount of curiosity, as well as irritation and a sort of tense fear, vulnerability. But not toward him—he was pleasantly surprised to realize there was a hint of trust on that avenue, despite Xellos’ mistakes. The shaman’s trust sealed the decision he had come to.
He waited until the chimera shifted on his feet, radiating discomfort with being scrutinized, to speak.
“It seems the storm has cut us off from the sorcerers, Zelgadis-san. They can make no moves until it has cleared.”
His relief was palpable, and the tension Xellos had taken note of dissipated a bit. Zelgadis’ concern about danger was not unexpected. The youth had to be tired of this situation; normally Lina was the one being targeted, not him.
“They are only human, after all. And it seems they have not been able to procure more Mazoku to control. And the Greater Beast has uncovered nothing.”
There was an unspoken yet that hung after that sentence. As much as Xellos was loathe to admit it, the sorcerers seemed to have the means, given time. He felt comfortable speaking of his former master only because he had taken pains to shield the area; they would not be overheard. He didn’t speak the rest, that Zelas had trusted him to uncover exactly what he was hiding from her. That he had lied to her. Lied for him.
Zelgadis, of course, was not one to leave that unspoken. “Yet.”
Xellos acknowledged the truth with a brief nod, and the response was a sigh. The emotions behind it contained multitudes, but exhaustion was at the forefront, and Xellos gestured for the youth to sit on the bed, mildly surprised when he did just that. It was a heavy gesture, one followed again by a silence Xellos was content to allow to stretch. He knew Zelgadis had questions, and he did deserve answers.
Of course, when he did ask, it was an all-encompassing question.
“What now?” The youth didn’t look at him, instead gazing at the window, beyond which was a chaos of white.
Much could be said in answer to that question; the maelstrom of emotions he could sense from Zelgadis didn’t give him much direction. The question was open enough to allow for multiple different interpretations. It was almost as though he was letting the Mazoku decide what to share; that was a bit dangerous, under the circumstances.
Xellos was tempted to tell the chimera everything, plainly and openly, without riddles or vague hints. What had led to his freedom from Zelas; his bizarre encounter with the Lord of Nightmares and the Thoughts She had Imparted upon him; his lie to his former master and how he was actually misleading her to believe he was allied with her; even the why behind that—his confusing desire to protect Zelgadis despite its conflict with his nature…
But that would hardly allow Zelgadis to do what he absolutely needed to: rest. Zelgadis had come closer to death than Xellos had ever seen him in Seyruun, mere days ago. The fact that he had pushed himself afterward to this extent was a testament to his will. The shaman didn’t need the added stress of the issues impacting Xellos. Xellos had his well-being, his continued survival, to consider.
“You recover,” he answered, finally deciding upon the literal chronological interpretation of the question. All else could wait. “Use this time to rest and heal and prepare. I do not believe you ever fully recovered from your captivity, Zelgadis-san.” He hesitated briefly, hoping not to remind of his mistake. “And especially since the attack in Seyruun.”
The chimera frowned, but Xellos could sense he knew that was likely the case—and, surprisingly, his emotions indicated he was thinking of Xiuh’s attack, not what had happened afterward. A small blessing.
After a moment, Zelgadis nodded. He had accepted the Mazoku’s reading of the question. “And then?”
Xellos tempered his anticipation, the bloodlust at the thought of what would absolutely come next. Regardless of what had been done to Zelgadis, the group behind this little experiment would need to be destroyed; because of what they had done, Xellos yearned more strongly for their destruction. Even more—if it were possible to erase all evidence they had ever existed, he would gladly do so.
“Once the storm has passed, we will find the sorcerers. We will end them.”
He didn’t quite manage to erase the anger from his voice, and was briefly concerned it might frighten Zelgadis, might erase the feeling of trust and reassurance at Xellos’ presence from the shaman’s emotions. But instead he sensed a sort of relieved anticipation, watched as Zelgadis’ jaw clenched in what might have been a smile, and Xellos realized something had changed somehow between them, something he had managed not to notice. He couldn’t interpret those emotions into useful information. Perhaps the chimera was simply anticipating an end to these troubles?
“Good,” Zelgadis murmured, his body settling against the headboard. He seemed content with this answer, not concerned with what might come after the deaths of the sorcerers, or the other implications and possibilities of his question which the Mazoku had not addressed.
Xellos could feel the youth’s emotions numbing, fatigue taking over again, and he stayed quiet to allow it. After Zelgadis’ current predicament had been dealt with… perhaps then he would be able to truly answer some of the other aspects of the shaman’s question.
By the time Gourry returned with food, the chimera had dozed off with his head against the window frame. He woke long enough to eat almost methodically, automatically, then crawled back under the blankets to sleep without prompting, giving in to the exhaustion and quickly passing into sleep.
Zelgadis seemed to feel safe enough to rest after their discussion, and Xellos would ensure he remained safe. None would disturb him.
Gourry headed toward the bed, then hesitated, glancing at Xellos. Lina had tasked him with watching over Zelgadis, Xellos realized.
“I will stay, Gourry-san. Get some rest.”
It would do no good, after all, for the blond to be exhausted; his skill with the sword was useful in battle, and they would likely face more of them. He would be ineffective against any Mazoku threat which might appear while Zelgadis slept, anyway.
Gourry didn’t bother getting underneath the blankets, instead lying atop them next to Zelgadis. He, too, was quickly asleep, though that was hardly unusual for Gourry.
Night found Xellos watching Zelgadis curled in a healing sleep, undisturbed despite the loud snoring from his companion.
He knew it would be prudent to plan, perhaps untangle more of the Thoughts of the Golden Lord, but it was oddly comforting to watch the shaman sleep, listen to his soft breathing, see the slight rise and fall of the blankets with each breath. Stretching his senses, he could hear Zelgadis’ heartbeat, feel the life emanating from his healed soul. His attachment to these sounds, to Zelgadis’ living being, should have been a thing of discomfort, but Xellos had acclimated to the feelings; they had, after all, been plaguing—that wasn’t the right word; been a part of? become his duty? After much thought, he no longer saw it as negative—him for weeks. He had decided to accept them, accept whatever he had become, in his time drifting on the Astral plane after the lie to Zelas.
If the Golden Lord Approved, in Her Wisdom… Xellos could take solace that perhaps it was not so unnatural to the Chaos of his being after all. Perhaps, just as he had decided regarding Zelas, he should not let his assumptions about his own nature collar him, either—as difficult as it was to discount millennia of expectations and experiences. Those very assumptions had rendered Gaav’s behavior incomprehensible at the time, but not as much anymore. How odd to understand, to feel a sense of duty and loyalty to a mortal creature…
He would lie again, if it kept Zelgadis from harm.
So he watched, listened, sensed, stretched those senses beyond their room, beyond the inn, determined to keep the chimera safe, at least during this storm.

Been a while. Five years, actually. A lot has happened in that time, but I really just wanted to work on something relaxing and familiar. We’ll see how this unfolds.
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