Wolf Moon Part 12

The silky glow of candlelight and several goblets of burgundy wine had eased the Twilight warriors into a tranquil mood.

Trowa took a long slip from his cup then kept his promise to tell his story.

"I was born in the Whetland Valley between the Sister Mountains. My father, Triton Bloom, was a Senator on the High Council of Elders that represented Whetland's nine provinces. As his only child I was to inherit my father's station so from an early age I was schooled in the Council's codes and creeds."

As if momentarily bewitched Trowa paused to gaze into a candle flame then continued. "Six weeks after my twelfth birthday there was a great division in the Council.

Five Senators believed Whetland had not received proper recognition from the Sanc Kingdom. They proposed declaring independence and forming their own government. The four opposing members viewed the desire for self-rule as treason and demanded the immediate expulsion of the traitors.

When tempers flared and heated arguments called for civil war, my father tried to be the voice of reason. He pointed out that independence might grant freedom but it also meant the loss of the King's protection.

He urged each Elder to write up a list of grievances then he offered to personally deliver the petitions to King Peacecraft and stay at court until all matters were satisfactorily resolved.

Despite the adamant objections of Senator Septum, a military officer from the ninth district, the Council finally agreed to give Senator Bloom's plan for diplomacy a chance."

Trowa paused again, not to stare into the candlelight but to slow the tide of resurfacing emotions. "My father wanted me to accompany him, he thought I could learn value mediation lessons.

My mother, Catherine, had the gift of premonitions. The night before my father's journey to court she had a death vision. With tearful pleas she begged him not to leave. He insisted he could not deny his destiny but he did agree to leave me at home, that was the last time I...."

The Priest lowered his eyes. A shaky sigh blew over his lips.

Quatre placed a hand on Trowa's arm, leaned closer and whispered. "You don't have to continue."

Duo agreed, "I can finish the story for Heero at a later time."

The slump of Trowa's shoulders and his comrade's concern prompted Heero to also concur. "There's no need to go on." he insisted.

"No, the memories keep me focused on what I must do."

Observing the constant touching and the caressing glances between Trowa and Quatre during supper, Heero was not surprised when the Fair Manipulator took Trowa's hand, interlaced his fingers and squeezed reassuringly.

Trowa finished his wine. With a steadier voice he mastered his memories. "The entire delegation was killed on the road to Sanc. The magistrate's investigation ruled that highwaymen committed the attack but the arrows responsible for the fatal wounds were too accurate in their target sights.

"The assassinations," Trowa growled through clenched teeth, "were accomplished with skilled precision. Even at my young age I knew with certainty my father was murdered and that the only man who opposed his endeavors for a peaceful solution had ordered his death."

Heero locked his blue eyes with the Priest's emerald orbs that flared with fury. "Senator Septum." he supplied the assassin's name.

Trowa nodded, "The hell-spawned servant of Satan had covered his tracks, there was no evidence of his involvement but I knew the truth.

With Senator Bloom's pacific influence no longer in force and his calls for nonviolent negotiations silenced, the Elders who wanted secession pressed for a vote. Of course Septum was eager to encourage conflict to prove his military prowess, even if it meant securing the outcome by intimation."

Yearning for his lost childhood replaced the anger in Trowa's eyes and softened his voice. "The escalating hostilities and the lost of my father's protection caused my mother to fear for our safety. She made the decision to leave our home and seek shelter in the Vale of Twilight on the Elon River Plateau.

Legends told of a wise Priest who lived in Twilight surrounded by magnificent beauty. It was said the cleric carried a magical staff that allowed him to decipher dreams and that he had the power to keep the outside world at bay.

Our journey began at midnight under the full moon's glow but we were quickly confused by the labyrinth of trails and became lost. The elements also seemed determined to conspire against us. Wind-driven clouds swallowed up the moonlight and cold rain fell all night.

By morning my mother was chilled to the bone. A raspy cough rattled in her chest and stole her breath away.

"You have to go on without me." she urged.

"No, we find Twilight together or we die together." With that oath of unification I lay down beside my mother and waited for death to make its claim.

I have no memory of being found by the Twilight Priest. I woke up in a warm bed, snuggled in a downy coverlet beside a crackling fire. My mother rested next to me but I knew by her labored gasps for air that her recovery was hopeless.

The Priest, who couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, sat on the floor holding my mother's hand and reciting entreatments for her gentle easing into the afterlife.

When he noticed I was awake he offered a small, sad smile. "I am Zechs Merquise, come and comfort your mother." He moved aside to let me sit by her futon, put her limp hand in my hand then went outside to grant us our final private moments.

At my touch, my mother opened her eyes but had to search to find my face. "I'm sorry, my son, I have to leave you." she whispered between racking coughs that shivered through her feverish body.

I didn't bother to hide my tears. "Father is gone I can't lose you, too." I sobbed as my heart shattered into a thousand grief-stricken shards. "I can't survive alone."

Sucking in a breath that failed to fully fill her lungs, she struggled to speak, "The Priest will...care...for you..."

"Save your strength, please hang on."

"Promise me...." she wheezed.

"Anything."

"Learn from the Priest. Let him teach...you...the mysteries of...Twilight."

"I promise on my life."

Suddenly the haze vanished from my mother's eyes. She reached up and stroked my wet cheek. "Can you hear the angels singing? The song is beautiful." she declared.

I kissed her hand just before it slid down my face.

"After the Priest and I laid my mother to rest under the apple tree," Trowa tilted his head towards the window and the tree bedecked with white blossoms, "Zechs expressed fear that my surname, Bloom, could be a deadly liability so we decided to change my name to Barton.

I kept my promise and became a student of Twilight. Zechs taught me how to listen, not with my ears, but with my mind and that what the eye sees is not necessarily reality. He taught me the secret of dreams, how to interpret their meanings and how to traverse the realm of nightmares without going mad.

At the age of sixteen I was granted knowledge of the Staff of the Rose."

"The tri-ringed rod you carried in my dreams." Heero recalled.

"The staff is made of polished walnut wood. The intertwined rings are forged from gold and signify the three natural elements, earth, wind and water. The center ring protects a ruby stone carved into a flowering rose that symbolizes purity borne of fire." the young Priest explained.

Since Trowa's initial summons through dreams, the Demon Tracker's curiosity had become persistent with questions he couldn't answer. Now was the opportunity to quiet curiosity's nagging.

"Is the staff the source of your power?"

"No, it channels the element's energy through me. I merely provide the path of least resistance."

"Can you command the elements?"

"Nature and I have a cooperative partnership that is mutually beneficial."

Heero dared to press for one more answer. "May I ask what happened to Zechs Merquise?"

"When my lessons were finished, he went to dwell in Deep World as Keeper of the Temple. I," Trowa smiled at Quatre and corrected himself, "we visit him from time to time."

Wufei leaned back in his chair and stretched the kinks from his back. "We will journey to Deep World after a few days rest."

"Then plans for the Dark Lord's downfall will be finalized." Duo declared.

Trowa Barton, now as wise as his teacher, gave Heero a perceptive look. "You have one last question." was more stated than asked. "How Quatre came to be at Twilight."

Heero nodded, "If he wishes to tell me."

*********

The Lord of Darkness sprawled in a slouchy recline staring into the fireplace. As usual he sat alone in the gloomy chamber, partly by choice but mostly because his disagreeable disposition discouraged companionship.

Treize Khushrenada--military genius fallen from glory--alone with his visions of conquest, those marginal mirages of memory, the perfect derangement that kept his madness-altered perceptions hovering in a state of delusional daydreams.

Red like blood-soaked earth, Khushrenada's glazed sight reflected the fire. In the flames, frayed around the edges by wafting gray smoke, he saw legions of the damned, vast hordes of soulless slaves with a single mindset, the eradication of priests and kings and beasts who hide behind fleshy veils.

Scenes of gory death played out in the fanciful world of illusion. Snaking through the smoke, fire-belching dragons scorched the skin of slain warriors. Scavenger demons wandered among the dead, knee-deep in blood, eviscerating corpses and picking bones clean. Devils ravished angels whose grotesquely twisted expressions gave mute testimony to the horrendous rape.

One dragon floated outside the flames and hung in midair. Its eyes were glowing embers, sulfur scented smoke coiled from its flared nostrils. The Dark Lord shifted and cocked his head at the strange manifestation as the mystic creature opened its mouth and puffed out the phantasmic Shadow Shy.

"Master."

Khushrenada braced his elbows on the chair and push to sit straighter. "Report."

"The Warriors of the Rose have arrived at Twilight."

"Is the Priest there?"

"Yes, the Manipulator as well."

Khushrenada scratched the two-day growth of stubble that was finally itchy enough to warrant shaving. "Will they travel to Deep World?"

"I overheard the wolf say in a few days. Shall we strike now?"

Another thoughtful contemplation, more scratching at the scruff of whiskers on Treize's chin. "Merquise is the Temple Keeper." he thought out loud.

He leaned forward and locked his bloodshot eyes on the misty messenger. "We'll wait til all the heretics are in one place, yes, why not have a full dungeon."

The corners of Khushrenada's mouth twitched then broadened into a cryptic smile. "Perhaps I can persuade my wayward lover that my bed is better than a dank cell even if the chains do rattle every time I claim him."

Rubbery legs took several seconds to shore up the Dark Lord's weight. He tested his balance then stepped closer to the smoggy Spy. "Return to Twilight. Let me know when the quinque leaves for Deep World."

"As you wish."

*********

A weaving stagger carried the isolated Lord down the hall to his bedchamber. Occasionally pausing to wait until the hall stopped spinning was necessary to remain upright. Mumbled curses accented his displeasure with the slow pace.

As Khushrenada approached, a young girl recently "acquired" to boost the aging staff shrunk back into the shadows and hoped she would go unnoticed but her fetching beauty had already sealed her fate.

Hands roughly seized the startled maiden's shoulders. Pressing his taller frame against her trembling body, the Dark Lord pinned her to the wall and slipped his knee between her legs to hold her in place.

A bruising kiss, bitter with sour wine, crushed her lips but the girl knew better than to resist her Master's advances. She had learned that any sign of noncompliance resulted in harsh repercussions.

The least reprimand she could hope for was a swift slap or punch. Sometimes a night in the dungeon was ordered where a female prisoner was apt to be taken by one or more guards so voluntary sex was not nearly as vicious a violation.

The worse brand of penance...another girl who had scorned Khushrenada's needs was brutally stabbed to death when his uncontrolled rage was set off by her refusal. Luckily, this time, the madman wasn't carrying his dagger but he could still visit violent punishment even if he only used his fists.

Khushrenada broke the hungry kiss but didn't decrease his body's pinning pressure. "What's your name wench?" he growled.

"Andrea."

His fingers brushed lightly across the girl's flushed cheek. She fought the urge to flinch from his fiery touch. With a firmer stroke, his hand slid over her chin, her neck then the lecherous Lord grabbed a handful of breast and squeezed as if testing the goods before buying.

"Well, Andrea," he hissed as he rubbed the bulge from his swollen manhood against her thigh, "how would you like to be my whore tonight?"

The maiden could do nothing but comply with her Master's rhetorical request, say nothing for fear of possible deadly reprisals.

Hastily Khushrenada guided the terror-coerced girl toward his bedchamber. If he couldn't know the warmth of love, Zechs' love, then sex in its raw, fleshy form would have to satisfy his carnal appetite.

Pushing the maiden through the door, Khushrenada took several moments to run his lustful sight along her body, to study her flaxen hair and fair face. Andrea stood silently in a submissive posture, eyes downcast under her Master's lascivious scrutiny.

"Let's see how well you serve my needs."

"STRIP!"

The Dark Lord commanded huskily as the bedchamber door slammed shut.

TBC...

 

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