The
next morning, the group awoke and packed everything in record time. Quatre checked the map, and then cast a
naturemage spell; it was a little known fact that most desert navigators were
naturemages of some sort, which was probably how Quatre had received the power.
Confident in his powers to guide them
and not get lost, Quatre guided Legend to the front of the line. Heero didn’t argue. He was busy tying Shadow’s bridle to the
back of Tsubasa’s saddle. Evidently the
black winged one had tried to sneak off in the night and only a little quick
thinking by Tsubasa and a timely tackle by Heero had kept Duo’s horse where he
needed to be. The king felt an
obligation to bring Duo’s horse to him safely, but Shadow just wanted to find
his master on his own. The end result
was a stalemate—and many attempted bites.
Relena
and her three bodyguards were at the rear of the line. Besides Hilde, there was Noin, the head
bodyguard, and Sally, a Healer, but a fine fighter in her own right.
The
group soon set out, plunging through the desert sands at a steady pace, the
dragons flying overhead with their ‘bounds on their backs.
-~-
As the
group passed through the desert, and inched their way southward, Duo felt his
bond with Heero growing thicker by tiny bits.
It still wasn’t thick enough to talk through, or he would have; instead,
he mentally wrapped it around his wrist and through his hand, hanging on for
dear life.
He
needed it; he was still being tortured, and he had to keep his mind strong even
if his body deteriorated.
-~-
Heero,
meanwhile, became more withdrawn than ever as he felt more pain leaking through
the now-thicker tie with Duo. They
finally arrived within sight of the oasis a week after starting on their
journey. Quatre glanced down at the
tents and let a strangled cry slip from his throat before kicking Legend into a
trot, sending the palomino stallion down the dunes and kicking up sand.
Suddenly,
something past expectation happened; three men on fine desert horses seemed to
rise out of the sand. With a shout,
Quatre wheeled Legend to one side, barely managing to avoid injury. The three men glared at him, and he hunkered
a bit as the others moved to catch up.
The
largest of the three men guided his horse until it was only a few steps from
Quatre’s. Trowa and Heero, quick as
ever, moved to their friend’s sides, making their own comfortable barrier of
three…six, when you counted the two wolves and Ni. The men didn’t seem fazed by the brave Marenian animals, but
instead focused their attentions on the humans.
“Who
are you and what brings you to this place?” the largest asked imposingly. Quatre stared at him for a second, despite
the glare, as if trying to work something out.
“Well, speak up, we haven’t all—” the man began again.
“Rashid?”
Quatre asked quietly. “Is that
right? Did I get your name right?”
The
man—Rashid—stopped talking immediately, and looked as if he’d seen a
ghost. Quatre threw back his hood for
good measure, and all three of the men took a step back. One of the others managed to speak, then.
“It’s
young Master Quatre!” he said wonderingly.
“Master
Quatre…you have returned at last…” Rashid said wonderingly.
The
others stirred around uneasily, and the dragons coasted in, landing neatly and
folding their wings as they did so.
Wufei and Meiran stepped over, frowning, obviously thinking there was
trouble.
Quatre
decided action was in order, so turned to his friends. “I’ve failed to introduce you! These are three of the Maguanacs, loyal
desert troopers that help out my family.
Abdul, Ahmad, and Rashid,” he said, pointing to each one in turn. He then turned to the Maguanacs. “These are my friends, King Heero of
Marenia, Trowa the Beastmage, Chang Wufei Sha-n-ro and Chang Meiran Sha-ti-reh,
the dragons Dha-n-ro and Dha-ti-reh, Princess Relena of the sword islands, the
Chief Bodyguard Noin, the Bodyguard Hilde, the Healer Sally, and last but not
least, the two wolves Toki and Meko and the cougar Ni-hat-cha.”
The
Maguanacs, to say the least, looked slightly taken aback. Finally, then turned to each other and
nodded. Rashid turned back to the
group.
“Master
Quatre, any friends of yours are friends of ours. Forgive us our negligence, and follow us; we will lead you to
your father’s tent, assuming that is where you wish to go.”
“Yes,
please,” Quatre said, and motioned for the others to follow as the Maguanacs
moved away. They did so, only the
dragons remaining behind.
-~-
The
Maguanacs showed Quatre which tent was his fathers, then led the others to
tents they could stay in while they remained at the oasis. All but Heero went to rest for a while—he
followed Quatre.
The
king and the naturemage walked into the tent and found Master Winner lying on a
pallet, surrounded by several of his daughters—some of Quatre’s sisters. Quatre gave a strangled cry and rushed over,
kneeling beside the pallet. “Father!”
he cried.
The man
turned his head, slightly pained, and looked at his son curiously. “My only son, you’ve returned…and after so
long,” the man said, in an odd, implacable tone of voice.
“Yes,
father,” Quatre said, his tone of voice hopeful.
“You’re
too late,” his father replied bitterly and half-turned away. Heero, as he could sense it when they were
children, and hadn’t sensed it in a long time, he knew Quatre’s heart was
breaking: as much was evident in his tone of voice.
“Father…?”
Quatre whispered pitifully. It was
almost a whimper.
Heero
couldn’t stand it; perhaps because of the long years of friendship, perhaps
because of his new compassion, but he wasn’t arguing with it. He glared at the back of the old Master
Winner’s neck and let the finely controlled battle voice take over his normal
one.
“Master
Winner, your son has returned to you after years of absence. It was not his fault that he could not
return sooner. He has been in Marenia.”
Quatre
looked at Heero, a bit startled, but grateful.
“Marenia!”
the older man said wonderingly. He
turned back to the two and looked at his son.
“Yes,
father. A maid took me there when I was
very young,” Quatre said.
The
older man closed his eyes. “Then I am
thankful that you made it here at all.
I am glad to see you again, my son, and glad to learn that you did not
desert me. Is there anything you need
assistance with?”
“We’re
trying to reach the old Trickster’s Temple,” Quatre explained.
“Why? That’s a place filled with evil!” his father
exclaimed.
“Yes,
but one of our friends is being held there against his will and we have to
rescue him,” Quatre said, his tone urgent.
The old
Master Winner sighed. “Then all I can
do is give you some guides for your trip—ten of the Maguanacs, a map, and my
blessing, as well as lodging for as long as you need it and provisions.” He sounded somewhat defeated.
“Oh,
thank you, father!” Quatre said. “It’s
really more than we could have hoped for.
We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
-~-
Later
that afternoon, after the group had been resting for some time, Relena got up
and went out to take care of her horse.
He was a sturdy paint gelding, dependable and true, and though he tried
his hardest, he needed extra care in the desert. She’d fed him and rubbed him down before going to bed, as any
decent owner would, but now she took a comb and worked through his mane and
tail, and checked his hooves for rocks or other injuries.
The
work was soothing, but it still didn’t erase the worry of the past days from
her mind. She was worried about
Duo. It was true that she hadn’t known
him very well, but she still felt concern for him—in her conversations with him
while they were all still at Port Lunos, she had found him to be humorous and
kind, not caring that she had once been unfairly betrothed to Heero. That was good, because even she had felt bad
about that. Still further, Duo had
proved to be a good match for Heero, which was all she could hope for. She knew that Heero didn’t like her, and,
unlike some of the court beauties that would chase a target even after they’d
been dissuaded, she knew when to stop.
“Princess
Relena?” a sharp voice asked, breaking into her thoughts and driving them
away. She looked in the direction that
it had issued from and saw Wufei standing in front of a tent. Packing away her horse’s comb and brush, she
tied him back up with the others before walking over to the ‘bound.
“What
is it?” she asked quietly.
“They’ve
decided our next stop. I thought that
you might like to hear,” Wufei said blandly, holding the tent flap open for
her.
Curious,
Relena ducked and stepped inside. She
immediately saw how crowded the small tent was, with piles of tack, jars, rugs,
coils of rope, and stacks and rolls of paper.
The number of people inside didn’t help the congested feeling; in fact
it only made it worse. It was packed
near to overflowing with Trowa, Quatre, two strange women, and one of the
Maguanacs. Meiran, who Relena missed at first, proved to be barely visible in a
corner. Relena located a bit of space
next to Trowa and situated herself there after her one good look around.
Quatre
looked up from his position on Trowa’s other side. “Princess Relena,” he started, “Wufei found you? I’m glad. You have a right to know where we’re going.”
Relena
leaned in a bit, finding it hard to distinguish the fine details of the map in
the low light. Finally she gave up
trying to find out their destination for herself and turned to Quatre.
“So,
where are we going?” she asked.
“The
Death Dunes,” Quatre told her.
Seeing—and interpreting—the look on her face, he continued hastily. “They’re not haunted or anything. It’s an area where rivers join, one of the
few well-irrigated major agricultural areas in the country.”
“So…why
that name?” Relena asked. “It would
seem to be the opposite.”
“Well,
it’s said that a brave explorer died there and that his death helped to
fertilize the land and create a new place for Zarisnians to live,” Quatre
explained.
“Ah, I
see. That’s similar to the stories
behind Jenaro’s Fort from the Sword Islands or the Lake of Maidens in Marenia,”
Relena commented. She paused for a
moment, and then went on. “When do we
leave?”
“Tomorrow,”
a stern voice said from the tent’s opening.
It was Heero. Those that couldn’t
see him turned to look. He was
unusually pale, which only accentuated the fact that his clothing was covered
in wet sand and his face smeared with a bit of the same stuff.
“Sir
king,” one of the unknown women in the tent said hesitantly, “perhaps you
should not have tried to swim in the watering pond we use for the animals. There are better ponds…”
“I
didn’t try to swim,” he said, interrupting as gently as he could. “My horse knocked me in.”
Trowa
was treated to a breakdown of just what had happened by Tsubasa, who put it
into his head for him to see. Heero had
led her to the pond to get a drink, and while he was sitting there, staring off
into the water, she’d simply knocked him into the shallows.
-I
thought he needed to cool off!- was all that she said in her defense.
-~-
Later
that night, Quatre was still sitting in his family’s main tent, talking to one
of his sisters. She was the youngest
daughter, older only than him. Her name
was Ismatar.
His
father had taken several wives to have as many children as he did; Quatre knew
it for a fact, and didn’t resent it, such things were common in this
country. In any case, his mother had
been his father’s last wife; he had never remarried after Quatre’s mother died. Ismatar was one of her three children, along
with Quatre, of course, and another sister.
She looked a lot like the lone son, sharing his paler-than-sand hair and
ocean-colored eyes.
“You
came back at last,” she said quietly.
“I barely remembered you. You
were so young.”
Quatre
shifted slightly. “Ismatar,” he began,
“who was the servant that carried me away?”
“I
don’t know,” she replied truthfully.
“Perhaps if you could describe her…”
“I
can’t remember much,” he said quietly, trying his best to drag up the
memories. “She was tall, and had dark
hair—black hair, and brown eyes—she had a kind smile. Her robe was black—and embroidered…that’s all I can remember.”
Ismatar
looked puzzled. “I don’t remember us
ever having any servants that fit that description,” she said. “In fact, it almost sounds like the
description of one of our country’s goddesses!
Maybe she was a saint or something.”
The girl paused, and then turned to Quatre, inquiring something. “Did she say anything to you?”
“Well,
I can’t remember much,” Quatre began apologetically, “but it seems like she
said something about a cougar and a jackal, fooling people…”
Ismatar
looked thoughtful. She looked at the
tent floor, then at her brother again.
“What do you think it means?”
“I’m
not sure. I don’t much want to think
about it,” Quatre said, feeling a bit baffled at it all.
“Then
you’d better go get some sleep—if you start at the dawn, you’ll be tired
anyway. There’s no excuse for you to be
even more tired,” his sister told him in a tone that booked no argument. He smiled, hugged her, and then left the
tent, shivering slightly at the nighttime chill as he walked to Trowa’s tent.
-~-
Duo
was, at that moment, undergoing another partial healing. The healer shoved aside her natural
compassion and urge to care out of fear of Zerixco, and left him stranded, not
even bothering to prop him up after she was done.
The
thief felt no better after the healing; it only served to make his senses sharp
once again, which allowed the pain to assail him once more. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Zerixco
made them do it. However, he had that
thread of light and life wrapped around his wrist and wouldn’t let go anytime
soon if he could help it.
Zerixco,
who had been watching, scowled angrily.
All the torture and all the blood, the bruises, the battering, the
slashes and cuts, and his spirit still hadn’t broken. There was also the matter of the unnatural tattoos that stretched
across the boy’s chest and arms. Despite
numerous lacerations, these remained whole, almost as if those parts of Duo’s
body were made of silver and not of flesh.
The emperor wished, with a fierce and animalistic hatred, that he could
rip them away, leaving the boy totally dull and unornamented. They’d left him his braid, but dipped it in
his own blood, a terrible testament and a painful mockery of how the hair had
once been.
Angered
beyond normal bounds, the emperor walked over, reached down, and grabbed Duo’s
upper left arm, right over the tattoos.
The thief made no move to deter the emperor. Zerixco smirked and shot heat, hot enough to melt and forge
metal, into Duo’s arm, until the skin should have been burned beyond
recognition.
It
wasn’t. The silver tattoo turned red,
boiling, forge-hot cherry red—as if leeching away the heat. None of it touched Duo’s skin. Zerixco jerked his hand away, glaring. He didn’t like that.
“I’ll
cut those away with a knife, mark my words,” he threatened boldly as he left.
Duo
didn’t smile; he was beyond smiling.
But he did feel a little bit better.
-~-
Heero,
alone in the tent provided to him by the Winners, tossed and turned with
disagreeable dreams. He dropped into a
dreamscape, and watched events play before him like magic; things he’d seen
before, but now he was looking at himself as he looked at others.
At
first, he was watching his seven-year-old self, just a few months after the
death of his parents. He remembered it
well; this was when his training had begun in earnest, and he watched his
younger self going through that same training.
As if
from far away, he heard voices: his own, so young, and the answering tone, much
deeper, of the Archmages’ weapons-trainer, Odin.
“Odin,”
he heard himself asking, “why do you work for that mage? He’s mean, and you’re pretty nice.”
He
could suddenly recall everything about that day and everything was thrown into
sharper, crisper detail; he could see sakura petals drifting from his mother’s
prized trees, the very detail of bricks and stones, the dirt, and the two
figures; himself, and Odin. The older man’s
sword was propped against one of the benches that dotted the practice yards at
irregular intervals as its owner took a drink of water from a waterskin. His younger self was holding his practice
sword as he glanced curiously at the weapons-trainer.
“It’s
an obligation…a promise made to him,” Odin said, a bit stiffly.
“That’s
one promise I’d want to break!” his younger self exclaimed.
Suddenly
the scene faded into blackness, and another one appeared slowly. This was a vision of a dark alley, with
shadows flitting around—the very stuff of children’s nightmares. Yet, there were children here, ignoring the
horrific surroundings, probably because they had been raised in such. They were clothed in rags and crouched low
to the ground, conferring in hushed voices.
There were only four, yet Heero was compelled to see their faces, so he
crept forward on ghost feet, not afraid of startling the children. After all, this was only a dream.
Finally
he got close enough to make out some of their features, and called upon a
passive level of his magic to allow better night vision. That did the rest. He could see it all, and even in color.
There
were three boys and one girl. The girl
had black hair and scared blue eyes; the three boys all looked different,
too—so this wasn’t a family, at least in the biological sense. One had red hair, cut short and close to his
head, and bright, bright green eyes.
The second had hair the color of straw, cut in a less neat style than
the redheaded boy’s hair, and rich brown colored eyes. The last boy—
--the
last boy had brown hair that ran over his shoulders in a cascade, and Heero
knew without looking that his eyes, if they were visible to him, would be a
deep violet-blue. It was Duo, without a
doubt: a younger Duo, so this was one of Duo’s memories.
“We hit
that merchant’s shop up on the Street of Snakes,” the blond boy said, “an’ that
filthy thieving potioner’s moneybags!”
“That’s
enough for GOOD bread, Solo!” the younger Duo said happily. “No more of the burnt throw-outs, we can
actually afford…at least half a loaf…”
“Yeah,
it’ll be great!” the redheaded boy put in.
Heero
felt vaguely sick. Good bread?
He’d never had want for anything to eat, even when training; meat, vegetables,
bread, yes, and even dessert! He’d
known that Duo had known a rough life, but such little things were sometimes so
shocking.
Suddenly,
the small vision of Duo turned to look at him, and Heero could almost swear
that he smiled and mouthed ‘don’t worry about it.’
At that
moment, the crossbow bolt hit Solo.
The
girl shrieked, leapt to her feet, and ran like a thing possessed; the redhead
followed suit. Duo turned immediately,
looking up and around, but couldn’t spot the archer. Just as Heero could have sworn he’d heard Quatre’s heart breaking
earlier that day, he knew he heard Duo’s heart breaking now. The little thief hurried over to his friend,
but Solo was fading fast. He whispered
something into Duo’s ear, and the other boy started crying as his companion’s
eyes shut forever. Duo awkwardly
half-hugged Solo’s body to his own, as if unwilling to give up his friend, and
spoke, his voice full of pain.
“All
right, then, I’ll be Duo, for the both of us!” he said, managing to pile rubble
over his friend’s body before he totally broke down.
-~-
Heero
woke up with a start, tormented by pain and Duo’s tears. Even now, he felt the torture-pain leaking
in, steadily, alleviated none, but as he felt that pain, he also felt as if
Duo’s heart was beating along with his, even from so far away.
It
comforted him slightly, and allowed him to drift off to sleep again.
No more
dreams came.
-~-
The
next day at dawn, the travelers started for the Death Dunes. Five Maguanacs led the way, with five more
behind, eliminating Quatre, Toki, Meko, and Ni’s previous jobs. The wolves and cougar didn’t quite know what
to make of this, so stayed close to Quatre, who now rode beside Trowa. The beastmage now felt guilty about allowing
them to come, even if they had been adamant about it.
Quatre,
in turn, felt sad that he was leaving his family, if only for a while, and yet
good about being on the way to search for Duo once again. The sooner they found him, the better!
-~-
Just
five days later, they arrived at the Death Dunes. There were merchants everywhere, hoping to gain business from the
travelers that stopped at the fertile dunes to reprovision.
“Coolvine!”
one shouted. “Perfect for desert
travel, and a bargain at five silver a packet!”
“Robes! Fine desert cloth! Only three gold each!”
“Three
gold?! That’s ROBBERY!” Hilde
exclaimed. The others laughed, in
agreement with her.
They
bought supplies from reasonable dealers and pitched their tents a few dunes
away from the hustle and bustle, immediately gathering around a map to discuss
their next stop.
The
Maguanacs placed map-marks in two places on the map. One was much further than the other, and to get there alive,
they’d need to buy ridiculous amounts of supplies. Heero looked at them, then at the map. “Why did you mark two places?”
They
hesitated before pointing to the nearer one.
“This one is…theoretically…the next best stop…but it’s haunted.”
There
was a long pause. Heero was silent, and
then finally spoke up. “Let’s go there
anyway.”
The
Maguanacs exchanged uneasy looks before they agreed, and then only with
hesitation. The group then settled back
around the fire to eat and talk about other matters.
-~-
True to
his threat, Zerixco did try to cut off Duo’s tattoos. He brought in a knife, held up Duo’s left arm, and cut. Or tried to, for when he touched the blade
to Duo’s skin, the tattoo turned red-hot again, as it had when Zerixco tried to
melt Duo’s arm off, and transferred the angry fire into the knife.
The
emperor dropped the knife, and it melted into a shapeless lump on the dungeon
floor. He backed away quickly, slamming
the door shut and locking it.
Duo
didn’t smile, but did gather up the rope, much thicker now, and wrap it all the
way around his arm.
-~-
That
night, dreams took Heero again, and this time, there were no dreams of his own
memories—they were all Duo’s. He
watched as Duo was taken to the temple orphanage, his back torn, but his wings
thankfully hidden; as he went back to a life of thievery after the sisters of
the temple were killed, as he underwent trials and labors beyond naming and
beyond comprehension to become the King of Thieves.
At last,
it ended, and Heero felt himself suspended in the dreamscape, expecting to wake
up any second, when he heard his name.
Hear
was a weak word; he heard it, but he also felt it; said as it was, it tore at
his heart, befuddled his mind, and he instantly knew it was Duo saying his
name. Perhaps everything was magnified
in this place. In any case, he knew it
was coming from behind him, so he turned.
There
was Duo, floating as he was in this confusing place. His ‘body’ was really more a projection of his spirit, but Heero
saw his form easily. The edges of it
were faded and looked torn—sort of frayed, as if his spirit was wearing down.
“Duo…”
he said quietly. The thief shivered as
he heard his name, probably in the same way Heero had heard his.
“We can
talk when we’re both asleep,” Duo said, drifting forward. He looked over Heero and smiled, sadly. “You don’t look too good, sir king.”
“I
don’t look good? Duo…” Heero choked at
that, and reached across the gap, brushing one of his hands against the side of
Duo’s face. In a moment, he felt the
thief’s hands covering his.
That
was all it took. Heero hugged Duo
tightly at that, and he felt their spirits knitting back together at the edges,
and even slightly together. Neither one
minded.
At
last, they found themselves being tugged back into wakefulness. As a reassurance, Heero leaned in and
whispered a few words to Duo. “We’re
coming as fast as we can. Just hold
on.”
With
that, they woke up.
-~-
Heero
awoke suddenly and found it a good bit past daybreak, with the promise of
terrible desert heat already hanging in the air. He quickly threw aside the top covers of his bedroll and stumbled
out, planning to ask someone why he’d been woken up so late. It didn’t occur to him that he might have
gotten angry if they’d actually managed to wake him up earlier.
However,
they were gone; their packs were left behind, their bedrolls hastily
vacated. He pulled on his boots and
tunic and walked out of the tent. Just
as he stepped out, one of the merchants came running past. He reached out and grabbed the man’s elbow.
“What’s
going on?” Heero asked. “Why are you
running, and where is everybody?”
“Demons! The Undead have risen!” the man shrieked,
and jerked his arm out of Heero’s grasp, running away as quickly as he could. Heero, alarmed, grabbed his sword and bow
from the tent, then ran out and swung up onto Tsubasa’s back, untying her
quickly. He untied Shadow as well,
having heard Duo say that he’d been trained as a warhorse, and hoped that he’d
follow.
He
did. Tsubasa galloped quickly and
Shadow was right on her heels, when suddenly she jumped over the last dune…
…and
horror spread out before them.
Below
them, people fought corpses, rotting and not, and skeletons, animated and
hideous. The dragons were doing their
best, but had been beset upon by the skeletons of gryphons. Unlike the gryphons they’d faced in the war,
which had been given proper burials, these were somewhat crushed, but they
weren’t letting it stop them.
Thinking
fast, Tsubasa spread her wings and kicked off, flying up before diving down and
cracking apart corpses with well-placed kicks.
Shadow followed suit. Once she
flew near Trowa and Quatre, and Heero leapt down to join them.
It was
a messy battle. The people around them
hacked the undead and the skeletons into pieces so that they couldn’t move any
more, much less fight; it seemed to be the only way to deal with them, and
there were scores of them. Heero drew
an arrow, called upon his magical powers, and fired. It hit one of the corpses and encased it in ice. A second later, the ice turned into acid,
melting it away. The king kept firing
off these arrows, feeling his unnatural magic dwindling more and more with each
shot. By the time the fighting was
drawing to a close, Heero’s silver tattoos had turned a dull grey color and
felt like lead. He was glad then for
the chance that they had to sit back and rest, as the dragons were doing a
mop-up job.
“What
happened?” Heero asked.
“A
necromancer’s spell got out of control,” Trowa told him.
“We
tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t wake up!” Quatre added.
“I
see,” Heero said, somehow unsatisfied with the answer, but feeling in no
position to disprove it. “Where are
Relena and the others?”
“Oh,
down by the pools,” Quatre said blandly, wondering how general he could get
before Heero questioned in greater detail.
To his
surprise, the king nodded, accepted the answer, and left.
-~-
Duo
awoke and tried to smile, but found that he couldn’t; scabs, scratches and open
sores lined one side of his face, and the other was covered in bruises.
His
spirits fell a bit at that, for his friends had always described him as going
into anything dangerous ‘grinning like the Trickster.’ The fact that he couldn’t made him feel a
bit defeated.
“Not
totally true. I don’t grin much like
that at all,” a slightly ethereal voice said from nearby. Duo looked up just as the cell was flooded
with magelight, and blinked several times, unused to the level of brightness. In any case, he was able to make out the
features of the person before him.
The
thief was instantly shocked at how much they looked alike—sure, the face of the
unknown person was narrower, overall he was a bit taller, and his hair shorter,
but it was still pulled into a braid.
It was also red, but not carrot-red, more of a dark auburn. His eyes proved to be blue.
“Awfully
quiet, aren’t we, little son of death,” the man said bemusedly. “Tired and injured, I presume?”
“Who
are you?” Duo said, his voice odd sounding.
He hadn’t spoken in a while…
“Why,
I’m hurt! I’m the Trickster,” he said,
grinning.
“You’re
the Trickster?” Duo asked, eyes widening.
“Why,
none other,” the jest-god replied, leaning against the wall. “Then you, of course, would have to be Duo
de-Maxwell, the King of Thieves.”
“That’d
be me,” Duo said, seeing no point whatsoever in lying. “What do you want with me?”
“I just
want to have a little chat, is that so wrong?
Not getting to talk to my nephew…I have a proposition to make for you,
actually,” he told Duo. “You’re in
pain, wasting away, dying—albeit slowly—of your injuries.”
“What
does that have to do with anything? And
what do you mean, your nephew?” Duo asked.
“Ahh,
they’re related! You see, you are a
blood relation of mine, even though you’re…mortal,” the god said with a hint of
dislike in his voice. “But not all
mortal. You have god-blood in you, and
that changes things.”
Duo
felt as if his heart had stopped.
“What?”
“You
didn’t know? Oh yes, you are an
orphan. Let me explain. Your mother was one of the Shadow-god’s
mortal wives. I can see the family
resemblance in you, and I imagine you saw it in me. Dear old Shadow is my brother.”
The
Shadow-god…the god of death’s dealings!
Duo’s blood ran cold. He was
frightened, but forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. “What’s that proposition?” he asked.
The
Trickster chuckled. “Straight and to
the point, hm? Well, here it is,
then. You’re nearly dead, and your
father is giving you a choice. You can
renounce life as a human and become a minor god, or stay here, take your
chances, roll the dice, which has no guarantees.”
“Do I
even NEED to answer?” Duo asked, in a fury.
Leave Heero behind?
“Take
your time and think it over. You don’t
have to answer right away…you might change your mind yet,” the Trickster
said. He paused, and then said
something else quietly. “Solo is
waiting for you.”
Duo,
shocked, tried to answer, but the Trickster was already gone.