Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 8:

Far to the west of the great human city of Palas, there is a castle that rests between the ocean and the great Silver Forest. It is a complicated structure of more than a dozen towers, forty arches, and six bridges all crisscrossing each other in a seemingly random, but infinitely beautiful design. The gray of the castle shone cobalt and black in the evening, as the blue flames were lit and casting dark shadows across the walls.
Upon the platform of the tallest tower, over looking the ocean, the master of the castle waited impatiently for his servants to arrive. His crimson eyes watched the eastern horizon for any sign of them. It was well past sunset, they should have returned by now.
A scowl crossed his features. The scraw had become decreasingly effective at keeping track of his prey over the last couple of days. They had lost track of Van under a bridge a few days ago and if the boy had just been a little more discreet he doubted they would have ever found him again. Then there was the amphitheater, a six story maze of tunnels and rooms, in which they had refused to follow him inside. And now, they were not even going to bother showing up.
“Master Folken?” a feminine voice called.
Forcing a gentle smile to his lips and expressing general serenity that he did not feel, he turned to speak to his two favorite charges.
“Good evening, Nariya. Good evening, Eriya,” he greeted.
The two feline women shared a significant look, before crawling out of the hatch and onto the platform. They stood side by side, his gold and silver twins, like the reflection of oersoerson in a tinted mirror.
“Master, are you not hunting him tonight?” Eriya, always the bolder of the two, asked.
He gave them a fainted smile and gestured towards to the eastern horizon.
“They have not returned.”
“They have been practically worthless since the beginning,” Nariya hissed in disgust.
Neither of the sisters had any fondness for his ebony spies. They considered them arrogant, selfish, and cowardly. All of which was true, but they were also useful. Or at least they had been.
“Yes. It seems I have assigned them a task they are not equipped to handle. I will release them from our bargain when they appear,” he agreed, and the sisters grinned triumphantly at each other.
A genuine smile touched his lips. His beautiful twins were always a source of great affection and amusement to him. Such precious jewels they had proven to be over the years.
“In the mean time,’ he continued, ‘perhaps you would both like to accompany me on the hunt tonight? My prey is rather flighty and I could use your help in cornering him.”
“Yes!” they enthusiastically cried in unison.
The Strategos chuckled softly, as they turned to glare at each other. He found their dual speaking habits amusing, but they despised it to no end. Spreading his great ebony wings, he summoned them to him with his arms open to them. They sprang to side, each clutching him tightly as he wrapped his arms and wings around them. A strong gust of wind and they dispersed into a flurry of black feathers, yielding themselves to the power of the air to drive them quickly to the city of Palas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I never thought these would taste that good,” Van remarked, nibbling some meat still hot from the campfire.
“And I will never understand how you humans can ruin perfectly good food by burning it,” Dilandu said snidely, ripping into his raw meat.
The human and the demon, after a long and complicated discussion had come to an agreement they could both benefit from and the albino had resigned himself not to kill his new master until a later time. They were now sitting around a campfire, eating dinner and actively not enjoying each other’s company.
Van had managed to get his new servant some clothes... sort of. Dilandu was currently rapped in a Austorian flag and some rope he had retrieved from a local building’s flag pole. The demon was less than pleased at his new garments, but it was better than being naked. At least in Van’s opinion.
“This stupid thing itches,” the demon child whined, scratching at his tunic.
“I will get you something better later, but for now you’re not wandering around naked,” his master muttered around a bone.
“Why can’t I just have your clothes and you can wear the flag?”
“Because they’re my clothes.”
“Bastard,” he hissed.
Instead of responding, he stood up and walked to the little creek and started washing his hands and face. Strapped to his back, his father’s sword as well as his prize sword lay parallel to one another in separate pouches on his pack, and his bow rested near Dilandu- without the arrows, of course. The little demon prince eyed the weapons longingly, but did not dare try for them. The little human was fast for his species and had good instincts. He could draw either weapon in a heart beat. He turned back to his meal and ripped into it with more savagery than was necessary.
A sharp wind blew by, disturbing the fire and sending tiny black feathers scattering about their camp. The young hunter looked up quickly, his muscles tense. Behind him, he saw Dilandu was also alert and sniffing the air. They turned to one another briefly, the master nodded, and the servant disappeared swiftly into the bushes.
Van stood and drew his demon sword, knowing it would be more effective than his father’s. Trying his best to remain calm, he slowly put out his fire and stood ready with his back pressed against a bush. It was not the one Dilandu was in, after all, he did not trust him that much. He waited anxiously, his eyes scanning both the sky and the park.
“This is rather careless of you, boy.”
The voice from behind shattered his composure and he stumbled back away from the bush, his hands trembling as he realized how dangerously close he had been to the enemy. He ran to the edge of the creek and turned again to face his adversary, his sword drawn and ready, even if he was not. The bushes bent and parted under some invisible force to let the Strategos through, his feathery wings not brushing so much as a leaf when he passed. The branches moved back with a quick snap as he exited, leaving no trace of his passage.
“The smoke from your fire can be seen almost anywhere in the city. You have made it ridiculously easy to find you,” Folken spoke softly, a gentle smile on his lips.
The young swordsman narrowed his dark eyes and stood his ground.
“Have you ever considered that perhaps I was not hiding?” he spat, his eyes deliberately sweeping his camp.
The armored demon narrowed his eyes slightly and followed his line of vision. His muscles tensed ever so slightly. He suddenly understood why his servants had not returned. In one sweep of his eyes, he could make out at least a dozen scraw laying dead around the camp. There was even a small pile of bones collecting near where the campfire had been. Van had been eating his spies.
The little imp.
“You’ll pay for this, boy,” the demon growled.
The Strategos might not have held any affection for the scraw like he did with the twins, but he could not tolerate such an act on any of his allies. It was bad politics.
“Perhaps,’ said Van, a tiny smile touching his lips, ‘perhaps not.”

Folken’s eyes narrowed. If the boy thought he was going to escape this time, he had another thing coming. With his right hand still holding his sword, he lifted his left and snapped his fingers twice. Immediately, two feline demons stalked out their hiding places, hissing and growling at the now very worried young man. Whatever Van had been planning was apparently shot to hell, as the youth turned his panicked eyes round and round, trying to keep track of all three demons. Folken let a dangerous smile cross his lips.
“Girls, make sure he does not try to flee. We’re going to finish this tonight,” he commanded.
“Yes, Master,” murmured the golden twin.
“Can’t we just take him all together?’ asked the silver. ‘His fear makes me long for the kill.”
“No, this one is mine alone,” said the Strategos.
“Yes, Master,” the silver relinquished.
Van stared long and hard at each of the twins, utterly fascinated and terrified by them. They were so human and yet so very not human. They had the form of very finely built woman, slender bodies , ample busts, and rather attractive facial features, but the strangeness of their feline eyes, furry skin, and great flexible black ears would never allow them to pass as humans.
And now they were huntinm.
m.
Damn.
Folken returned his attention to the boy as he took his fighting stance, and Van quickly followed. His attention, however, kept being pulled towards the twin demons poised to spring at any moment, despite their master’s orders for noninterference.
“If you surrender now, your punishment will be light,” offered the Strategos.
“You know I cannot,” murmured Van, his eyes finally locking onto his opponent.
“Well, you cannot say I did not try to be merciful.”
The young human’s eyes narrowed.
“There is just one thing you never thought to consider,” he said.
The armored demon hesitated, knowing the boy was up to something again.
“What is that?”
Van straightened suddenly, his grip never wavering as his sword suddenly began to glow blue.
“DILANDU! Take care of the women!” he shouted.
Before any of the other demons could grasp what was being done, a white streak shot past Folken from behind, striking his side as it passed. It quickly sprang onto Eriya, taking her by surprise as it dug its claws into her chest. Faster than the boy thought possible, the other feline demon shot passed him to help her sister, pushing him aside. Van lost his balance and fell into the little creek.
Unfortunately, he still had his pack on and the weight of it prevented him from catching his balance in the fast moving stream. The creek was only about chest deep, but in the dark he quickly became disoriented and could not find his way to the surface as he was drug along. He was not certain how long or how far he remained under water, but he thought he lost consciousness briefly.
Finally, just as he was certain he was going die, strong powerful hands reached in to the stream and dragged him out. He was tossed onto his stomach, the impact making him cough up at least half of the water he had swallowed. Van lay there weak and gasping, his eyes still closed tight as he was quickly stripped of his pack. Someone grabbed his ivory sword and began to peel it from his grasp, and he tried to jerk his hand back, but to no avail. He managed to open his brown eyes into slits, just in time to Folken pry the blade from his hands and toss it aside. The sword glowed briefly and then quickly faded to its usual white.
The boy tried to leap for it, but Folken had expected it and seized him by the hips, dragging him back towards him. The dark child struggled violently, kicking and punching at him, but the demon appeared to feel none of it. The Strategos pinned him down in a position he remembered vividly from his last dream. Despite being cold and wet, a powerful heat rose into his face and he knew he was blushing horribly.
“Nice try, boy,’ the pale demon said, leaning in close to his face. ‘I can honestly say I did not see that one coming. Just how did you manage to get a hold of Escaflowne?”
Van continued to struggled, his legs pinned uselessly under Folken, while his wrists were held firm in the demon’s iron grip. He was in a miserable position, and he was certain Dilandu had returned to the blade, so he was of no use. His only option was to stall and hope an opportunity would present itself.
“Escaflowne?” he asked, still trying to work his hands free.
“Yes, Escaflowne, your pretty little sword with that useless brat stuck inside of it,” he said, leaning in close and taking in every detail of his captured prey.
Even in the dark of night, Folken’s preternatural vision could make out every line and contour of his lithe little body. The cold water making his clothes cling tightly and his bronze skin shiver and break out into tiny bumps. Despite Van’s vulnerability, his eyes remained fierce and determined, emphasizing the do or die trying attitude he found so charming in the boy.
“Strange, he described you in almost the same manner,” the young prisoner said, his voice shaky from cold and weakness.
“Did he now? You both must havd a d a very lovely conversation about me. What did he say exactly?” the demon asked, amused.
“He called you a skinny brat who should have stayed in what ever bird’s nest you flew from.”
Folken chuckled.
“Skinny brat? Hm. Well, I suppose I was much younger when he last saw me. Perhaps, he actually thought he could kill me, thinking that I would not have changed at all over the last five centuries,’ he said softly, leaning in closer to his prisoner’s lips, ‘And perhaps you actually hoped he could help you defeat me, my poor naive little boy.”
One of Folken’s hands released his wrist to grab his chin, holding his face still as he sealed his mouth over Van’s. The young hunter froze, petrified, as the demon forced its warm tongue into his mouth. Something in his heart clenched as felt the slippery invader taste and explore, deliberately provoking his own tongue to respond. No matter how desperately he struggled, he could not seem to break free.
Desperation, however, is the mother of invention. Instead of trying uselessly to punch at him with his now free hand, he clawed his fingers and grabbed the Strategos’ side, where Dilandu had made a break in his chain mail when he had rushed to his master’s aid. Van found the area wet, and with some searching the source of the blood. It was only minor scrap, but the boy’s fingers digging into was hardly going to go unnoticed.
Folken jumped back, crying out in surprised pain. Suddenly free of his captor’s hold, the hunter leapt to his feet and snatched up his sword. He rolled once and used the momentum to jump to his feet, blocking the Strategos’ sword jus its it came down. Escaflowne glowed in his hands, but he did not dare try and summon Dilandu in the middle of their battle.
They fought in a small park, no longer under the cover of the bushes, but in a wide open space with only a few scattered trees and a fountain to set their boundaries. Folken struck hard upon him, driving him around in circles as he attempted to knock him off balance again. Van, however, would not be over powered this time. While he was hardly the demon’s equal in sword play, his physical strength seemed to have tripled since their last fight. Even the boy seemed surprised as he withstood each powerful blow.
In the young swordsman’s grip, Escaflowne felt warm, and he could feel that warmth spreading through his hands, up his arms, and into his body. And with that warmth came power that he had never thought possible.
It would not be enough, however.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ins Inside his prison, Dilandu screech in mad frustration. He had been so close! If Van had not been such an idiot and ordered him to attack Folken instead of the stupid minions, he could have torn out the man’s heart as easily as he had the scraw! So close so close!
He did not even get the satisfaction of killing the minions! The twins had been ferocious, but undisciplined in their attacks and one was already badly wounded. Just a little longer and he would have taken off both of their heads. But no! That stupid idiot had to fall in the creek and drown himself!
Ok, so he had not drowned, but he had dropped the sword, causing him to return automatically to his spaceless prison. Which was more disappointing than if he had not just drowned.
It just kept getting better though!
He could feel the boy had retrieved the sword, but he had not even bothered to summon him again! Idiot! Idiot! Stupid! Stupid!
All around him, blue lightening flashed and crackled in the endless white abyss. If Van was fighting with the sword, this was to be expected and he was not really concerned. However, amongst the blue was black lightening. The angry dark flashes lined with red snapped one after the other as they danced after their blue brother’s.
Dilandu watched them with keen interest, momentarily forgetting his rage. The red lightening had just started, but was growing in intensity. It would appear Folken was fighting, and fighting hard against the idiot boy. Like symbolic warriors, the black and blue lightening battled, encircling and snapping at one another before disappearing and reappearing somewhere else.
At first, they seemed equally matched, but as the captive demon watched the red lightening grew larger and more powerful, devouring the blue in its wake as they danced across the endless white. Dilandu tried to imagine exactly what was happening outside. Folken was clearly winning, but the boy was not doing as pathetically as he might have expected. Van juspt opt on fighting, either blind or uncaring to his opponent’s superiority. His blue energy crackling persistently, even as it was being overwhelmed.
Then is suddenly ceased.
The electric storm stopped, leaving Dilandu alone and in silence. T he only thing he knew was that Van had lost, either having dropped the sword or through death. Whatever had happened, he could no longer sense his energy and the sword was dormant again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Folken stared down at his thrice defeated prey, his breath quick with the excitement of their battle. The boy, ever defiant, glared up at him from his kneeling position with his enemy’s blade pressed to his throat. His eyes were dark, filled with the same fiery passion he exhibited in their battle and in his desperate escapes, beautiful and exciting.
And now Van belonged to him.
Smirking, he slid his blade along the boy’s slender neck. With the tip of his sword he snagged the Magoman talisman, avoiding Varie’s pendant, and lifted it from Van’s shoulders. The necklace fell easily into his hands. The boy watched him nervously as he examine it curiously. He caught his prey’s gaze, held it, and crushed charm cruelly in his palm.
Van’s eye’s flashed with anger and he nearly made to attack him, despite being unarmed.
“You would never make it,” the pale demon said evenly, making the boy pause.
Van did notbt hbt his words. Folken had stabbed him in the shoulder already, and it seemed as long as the damage was not permanent he was willing to inflict a great amount of pain. The young man remained still, and waited for another opportunity.
“Do not move,” the demon commanded, an unspoken threat trailing his words.
He tilted his head towards where he had left Nariya and Eriya and called for them. After a moment, when he heard no response, he tried again. Folken frowned slightly when neither returned his call, butwas was not about ready to just leave his prey while he searched for them. He listened carefully, trying to pin point them over the sound of Van’s quick little breaths and the wind.
It was the only thing that saved him.
A vague whistling sound caught his attention just in time and he moved to the side, barely dodging the arrow that flew past him. Van blinked upward, aware that only his kneeling position had kept whatever had just passed overhead from hitting him between the eyes. Demon and mortal turned equally surprised glances towards the shooter.
“Your highness?” blurted out Van, springing to his feet.

The prince, garbed again his blue and black uniform, stood just across from the little creek with a crossbow aimed and ready. Behind him stood several other uniformed men, including Allen’s companion from before, and to his surprise, the sword merchant he had spoken with a few days ago. Dryden smiled at him and gave him a little wave. Allen, however, had lost all his usual casualness and was glaring darkly at both him and the Strategos.
Folken turned sharply to Van, moving to grab him. The boy leapt back in surprised, and the demon just barely avoided the volley of arrows that was sent at him for his movement. Van bolted, both from the Strategos and arrows hat traveled far too close to him for comfort and took refuge behind the fountain. He watched fascinated as the pale demon blocked and dodge the dozen or so shafts, glad it was forcing him further away from himself. Folken forcibly took refuge behind a tree, hissing angrily at his attackers. He turned his crimson eyes briefly to Van, who smiled impishly at him.
Soon, when Van realized Folken was effectively pinned down behind the tree, he stood and began walking towards Escaflowne. Folken had disarmed him at some point and sent his sword flying, before shoving him into a kneeling position. The sword had landed vertically almost a dozen paces away with its blade buried with in the earth. His pack was on the other side of the park, where the fight had started, but he was not about ready to cross the path between the Strategos and the archers.
However, he had no sooner cleared the fountain when an arrow pierced the ground, barely hand’s length from his foot. He turned his gaze to the archers, surprised to see at least half of them aiming at him, including Allen.
“What is the meaning of this?” Van demanded.
“Do not move, Van Guilavene, you are under arrest by orof tof the Crown,” the prince said darkly.
The boy had never seen him look so cold, and he was finding he preferred the arrogant jerk from before.
“What are you talking about? What are the charges?!”
“Conspiring with the demon Strategos,” Allen stated.
Van just blinked at him for a moment and looked towards Folken. He frowned when he saw the demon was covering his mouth to keep from laughing. The others could not see him, of course.
“I am not conspiring winy dny demons!” the boy spat angrily.
Well, there was Dilandu, but that did not count!
“Do not try to deny it!’ snapped Allen, his eyes narrowing dangerously, ‘We all saw you kneel before your master, just now. You have made no attempts to flee, and this creature obviously knows you. And lets not forget about his blessing, which allows you to use the cursed sword. You are caught! Surrender peaceably or be shot.”
Van gapped, too horrified at the moment to know what to say. Half of the things Allen was saying made no sense to him, and the other half was just nonsense. A hollowness settled inhe phe pit of his stomach and spread into his chest. The world seemed to shrink into a small dark gray place that he could not escape from. They were all the same, he thought to himself.
People, that is. Allen, just like the villagers and the gypsies, had seen something different about him, and they shrank away in fear and sought to turn him out. Could he never escape this? This constant disappointment with humanity?
He stared blankly into the prince’s steely blue gaze, and a sudden hatred came upon him. Damn them! Damn them for giving him no place to go, no place to belong! Van’s eyes narrowed into an angry glare, startling the blonde swordsman, before sprinted back towards the fountain. A warning shot was fired, but he ignored it and reached the fountain unharmed.
He huddled behind the stone shield.
“Shall we go now, Van?” called Folken smugly.
The boy glared at him and looked for any nearby rocks he could chuck at him. Alas, there were nonIf hIf he had been more focused, however, he would have noticed the gesture the demon had made and known what the demon had planned. A sudden cry of alarm caught his attention. Cautiously, he peeked over the rim of the fountain to see what had happened.
The feline demons, Nariya and Eriya he believed Folken had called them, had finally appeared and were attacking Allen and his men. Well, they were running around in circles and looking scary as hell, but it was enough to distract their attention. Van sprinted towards Escaflowne and Folken took flight, his great ebony wings carrying him faster than seemed physically possible. The young hunter followed his movements from the corner of his eyes, his main focus on Allen and his men, more dangerous to him than the damned demon.
He snatched up the sword as he passed it and continued to run deep into the park. Van had just gotten hold of his pack when the sound of fighting from behind him ceaseHe dHe did not pause, but kept an eye towards the sky, making sure the Strategos did not surprise him frbovebove. There was no one.
Tired, wet, and utterly alone, the dark child ran aimlessly into the city and disappeared.

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Allen’s angry blue eyes swept the park. Empty.
“Dammit,” he growled, straightening up.
“Indeed,’ said Dryden, his ever present smile still crossing his face, ‘I wonder where dee demons all went.”
The Royal Guardsmen, a motley crew when you studied them close enough, muttered amongst themselves. They were clearly as disappointed as their captain, if not more so. They had had two very dangerous people in their grasps and had just let them escape. Even if one was a powerful demon, it was a major blow to their pride.
“Back to whatever rock they came from, that little bastard with them,” growled Gaddes, stalking through the park with the other men picking up their arrows. Dryden had been kind enough to point out it might not be wise to leave them in a place frequented by little children.
“You mean Van?”
“Who the hell else would I mean?” Gaddes snapped.
“But Van did not go with the demons.”
The Guardsmen paused in their rummaging and looked up at him. The merchant smiled cheekily at them and waited patiently for someone to ask what he meant.
“Alright, out with it,” ordered Allen, crossing his arms.
“Van did not go with the demons, he got his sword-’ he pointed where it
had been, ‘and ran back through the park while the demons went in the
opposite direction.”
Allen followed the path of Dryden’s hands, trying to remember exactly what had happened. It was hard. They had all been so caught up in trying kill the demon women, they had not been able to keep track of the other two. Dryden was probably right, he was after all the only one who had opted not to bring a crossbow, and had therefore free to observe what he liked. But why would Van not have left with the Strategos? The blond swordsman frowned.
“Perhaps he has a mission he has not yet accomplished,” he suggested to his men.
“That is one possibility,’™ agreed Dryden, amicably. ‘One of many. Perhaps you should not have scared him away by shooting at him. We might have asked him.”
Allen flinched.
“What was he suppose to do? Invite him to tea?!” growled Gaddes defensively.
. P. Perhaps. Speaking of tea, since tonight\'s a bust, want to go get some? I am kind of sleepy and could use the sugar,” the merchant said cheerily.
“Hell no!’ shouted one of the men, ‘We’re getting stone drunk!”
There was a general murmur of agreement amongst the ranks. Their captain even looked ready to agree. Dryden’s eyes flickered to the blond and tried to ponder him drunk.
“Ah, even better. I’ve never been in the company of a drunken rabble,” the merchant commented.
“You don’te toe to come,” said Allen.
“Nonsense,” Dryden said, flashing him a grin.
The prince blushed slightly, though he could not think of why, but was thankful that it was dark none the less.