Wolf Moon Part 14
Duo tapped his pipe on the hearth to knock out the ashes then addressed Heero. "You know our stories, how fate set our paths now, Demon Tracker, tell us of your life."
Heero raked his fingers through his heavy shoulder-length hair, smoothed stray stands behind his ears then struck a bargain with the braided Irishman. "I'll share my story if you share your pipe."
"Done."
Duo dipped the briarwood pipe in a cloth pouch, filled the bowl, tamped the tobacco blended with crushed mint leaves with his thumb and handed it to Heero.
Heero took a long twig from the kindling box, set the end in the fire and torched the tobacco. Three forceful draws pulled the flame. Soon minty smoke curled lazily from the bowl.
The Lone Hunter sucked deeply through the pipe stem, savored the taste then let the exhaled smoke drift over his lips. "My story," he began, "is in many ways like your life tales.
As Duo discerned on our journey to Aragon, I was born into nobility but of a lesser station. My father, Edward Ware, was not a landowner but squired a country estate, Willow Grove, owned by Baron Frederic Weisman.
My father is English, my mother, Keiko Yuy, is Japanese. They met when my mother's family was hired to tend the estate's vineyard and winery. After a short courtship they were married, two years later I was born in the warden cottage.
I grew up in the best of English and Japanese worlds. My English training included protection of the land, supervision of the field workers and craftsmen, how to ride and how to hunt with a crossbow. My father taught me respect for family, King and country and that steadfastness to duty was the true measure of a man's character.
My mother's gentle nature provided a different brand of education. She believed nobility was not given by birthright but earned by a kind soul and genuine concern for every person no matter his or her circumstances.
She taught me strength should always be tempered with grace, wisdom came through an instinctive counsel that was often foolishly ignored and, most importantly, that knowledge was acquired from life lessons, not from books."
Heero leaned back, took another draw on the borrowed pipe and momentarily appeared to be lost in thought.
Much like Quatre's fond remembrances, Heero's eyes briefly mirrored memories of a serene childhood but, just as swiftly, rage shattered the tranquil trance and renewed the icy cobalt that glazed his brooding sight.
As Heero continued, there was a hardened edge to his voice. "By age fourteen I was Master of the Hunt. Regrettably, I had become arrogant, as I believed every breed of game, deer, turkey, even rabbits, was no match for my crossbow skills.
Late one spring evening, after my father and I had led a hunting party since sunrise, we were less than a mile from the estate when we came upon my two pet Elkhounds. The dogs were cowering by the road; tails tucked between their legs, whimpering and their fur was matted with blood.
My first thought was that they'd tangled with a wild boar or perhaps a bear but when they refused to come when I called and shrunk back from my attempts to reassure them I knew something was terribly wrong.
My father was also distressed by the dog's odd behavior. The entire group rode at a full gallop until the horses pounded passed the wooden gates that guarded Willow Grove. The scene we beheld when we reached the manor house will be forever etched in my mind."
Heero paused to suck in a shaky breath and steady his voice, "The courtyard looked like a battleground. Branches had been torn from the trees as if a great wind howled down from heaven.
Fences around the pig lots were broken and the swine had scattered into the orchard. The sables were in ruins and three of the horses were dead in their stalls. A fourth horse wandered by the springhouse, wide-eyed, trembling.
I dismounted and stood transfixed in shock. Slowly the shock gave way to the realization that I was surrounded by utter silence, no birds chirped, even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Suddenly panic stabbed through my heart and I began to run up the lane to the manor house. The wrought iron gate at the end dangled from one hinge. Leaves on the boxwood hedge were brown and curled.
I burst through the lopsided gate and almost tripped over what I thought was another broken branch but I quickly realized the branch was covered in tattered cloth.
When I bent down to investigate the mysterious shape I found I was standing over a body and staring into a face so badly crushed it no longer looked human. I drew back from the misshapen blob that had once been a head but was now a bloody mass of skin and brain matter oozing from gaps in the shattered skull.
The stench of charred flesh rankled in my nose. Nauseous waves churned in my gut and I heaved up my dinner. As I fought off fainting, I wiped cold sweat from my forehead and tried to focus through a hazy film that wasn't on my eyes but was drifting from the smoldering shell of Willow Grove.
Two corpses, scorched skin peeling away from the bones, their frames contorted by drawn-up ligaments, lay side by side on the blackened porch. I dared to step closer and made a grave discovery, burnt arrow shafts in their backs offered proof that they were already dead before the fire consumed them.
"Baron Weisman." I swallowed hard to keep the bitter bile from rising again. "Baroness."
There was no doubt about the identities. On each left hand the skeletal fingers bore a band of gold and, despite the discoloration, I recognized the heart shaped ruby stones of the Baron and Baroness' matching wedding rings.
To the left five females, completely stripped of their clothing, were stacked up like firewood. Beyond the nude mound, the severed head of a woman with cloudy eyes and stringy hair framing her ashen face set atop a pike stuck in the ground. Her decapitated body was nowhere to be found.
Smoke clogged my lungs. I struggled to breathe. A second bout of sickness threatened to buckle my knees. My mind couldn't comprehend the gruesome aftermath; my soul didn't want to.
Footsteps at my back caused me to whirl around and grab at thin air for my crossbow that was still tied to my saddle but it didn't matter that I was defenseless, my instincts were too numb to care.
My father, his face streaked with sweat and gasping in winded puffs, skidded to a halt. "Merciful saints." he whispered so lowly I wasn't certain if he was talking to me or praying.
It had been a matter of minutes since the hunting party arrived at Willow Grove. Less than an hour to grasp what had happened or make any sense of the slaughter.
Without warning my stunned brain began to comprehend. A single thought exploded inside my head with such force dots danced before my eyes and my legs went rubbery.
I didn't realize I was going down until my father's strong arm wrapped around my waist and shored me up. "Mother?" I mumbled as my mind fogged again.
*Fight back!* my inner counsel demanded.
"My sight cleared, renewed strength flooded every muscle. "MOTHER!" I screamed, batting at my father, at the world, at the injustice.
"She's alive." my father answered as he tightened his grip around my flailing arms. "Heero, look at me."
I weakly strained against the encircling arms then gave up the fight and looked into my father's eyes.
"She's bewildered but alive."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"How?"
*********
Flashback
"Ryushi." Mayu called to her husband as they were returning from the vineyard.
"What?"
Mayu, Keiko's aunt, pointed towards the manor house. "See the cloud of dust moving along the road?"
Quickly Ryushi and Mayu climbed the last hill in time to see a horde on horseback charge into the courtyard.
Ryushi took Mayu's hand, "Hurry we must find Keiko"
Ryushi, Mayu and Keiko hid in the forest. Side by side they listened to shouts and screams and smelled the smoke.
Men haloed by a black aura that hinted of demoniac influence and dressed in breastplates bearing the insignia of a lion and a stag bound together by a scarlet cord, brandished broad swords and ransacked the cottage but didn't set it ablaze.
When the men left, Ryushi told Mayu and Keiko to stay hidden while he checked to see if it was safe. Once he'd gone a shadow passed overhead then a wisp of smoke rose from the ground.
The smoke curled tighter, took on a human outline then spoke to Keiko. "Woman."
In spite of Mayu's warnings, Keiko stood up and faced the undulating apparition. "What to you want with me?"
"Your son."
"Why?"
"Because he will become a warrior and my master does not want the challenge."
Keiko stepped forward and locked her ebony eyes on the mystic vapors. "Who is your master?"
"You do not need to know."
"Then be gone for we have nothing more to say."
"Your son," the wavy phantasm repeated, "give him to me."
Keiko lifted her slender hand, pulled out the long silver pin holding her coarse black hair then shook her head until the smooth, straight tresses caped around her shoulders. "Come closer and I'll tell you a secret." she cooed.
The mist laughed as best it could considering it had no throat. "Foolish woman, You are no better than the whoring succubus. Do you truly believe you can harm me? Do you intend to stab the air?
Keiko narrowed her sight. "No, I intend to save my son."
To the specter's surprise Keiko pointed the pin at the spot where its heart should be and jabbed it inside until her arm was totally engulfed in white mist.
The outline began to flow over Keiko. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against the pain as the mist traveled through her body and emerged on the other side.
Keiko dropped to her knees clutching her chest. "I've stolen your power." she wheezed barely above a whisper. "Go tell your master that my son, the warrior, will find him one day."
The mist thinned until it was once again a shadow. "You may have my power but I have your sanity. You will never again have a peaceful thought. You will battle demons by day and dream creepers all night. Tell me woman, was your son worth losing you mind?"
As the mist faded away, its final question echoed inside Keiko's head. She collapsed and gazed up at the vanquished shadow. "My mind and my heart and my soul."
*********
The pipe had gone cold, as cold as the hollowness in Heero's eyes.
Duo eased the pipe from the Tracker's fingers before their absentminded laxness let it drop to the floor.
"You don't need to go on." Wufei declared to spare Heero further emotional distress.
Heero blinked slowly as if waking from a trance. "Twenty-two people were butchered that day."
A pause. A sigh.
"By fate's whims my father, aunt and uncle were spared but my mother was gone."
Quatre rested a hand on Heero's arm. "Your mother survived."
With the numbness in his eyes still in force, Heero shook his head. "Only a shell left behind...empty...because of me."
"It wasn't your fault." Trowa added his support. "If you had been at the estate you surly would've been killed."
"I would have gladly given my life for my..." Heero's voice cracked under the strain, "I would have done anything to save her."
"We know." Wufei spoke for his comrades, "Please let the memories rest."
Heero straighten in his chair. He drew in a deep breath, let the exhaled air carry away a measure of his heartache then insisted, "No, the memories have rested long enough, they need to be given a voice.
With the estate destroyed and only the hunters left alive there was no reason to stay. While the hunters gathered the bodies, I helped my father build a funeral pyre.
As flesh and bone was reduced to ashes the dead were freed from their mortal bonds. Ryushi added incense to please the gods and offered prayers for the dead's peaceful departure.
I sat on the ground beside my mother. I held her close for consolation but also to keep the remnants of her tattered chi, the essence of her soul, from joining the liberated spirits in their journey into the afterlife.
My mother looked on me with empty eyes but a single spark still shimmered in their ebony depths, one enduring point of light that gave me hope all was not lost.
Watching the sweetened smoke funnel up to heaven, I swore to my ancestors I would hunt down the monsters who had slain the innocent, even if it meant tracking them into hell.
In honor of my mother I took the surname Yuy and made a solemn oath that one day I would find a way to restore her mind and mend her splintered spirit.
The fire finished its task. My father and I rounded up the horses. Mayu rode with Ryushi and Keiko rode with Edward. When we reached the crossroads, where the road spilt apart in opposite directions, I chose to take the lone pathway, as it should be, for I was now destined for the solitary existence of a Demon Tracker.
I kissed my mother, bade my father farewell, repeated my vows of retribution and rode away.
The Priest of Twilight leaned forward until his emerald sight locked on Heero's face, that was yet again totally void of expression. "You are not destined to hunt alone but to complete the quinque so together we can end the Devil's reign of terror and restore peace to this land."
Like a cauldron filled to overflow, Heero's emotions suddenly gushed over the edges. Expressionless eyes flared with pain that, when heated by anger, seethed to the surface.
"DAMN THE QUINQUE" he shouted, slamming his fists on the table. "DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!"
The enraged Tracker stood up, upsetting his chair and sending it crashing to the floor. He bolted for the door and it banged back with such force it nearly jumped off the hinges. Boots pounded on the porch then the grass muted the sound of Heero's retreat.
Always the peacemaker, Quatre began to get up but Duo signaled for the Manipulator to stay seated. "I started this," the clearly penitent Irishman declared, "I'll weather the Tracker's storm and try to calm the raging winds."
Outside the night sky was studded with a thousand pinpoints of twinkling stars. The moon was almost full and the increased illumination helped Duo find his way across the yard.
The Lone Hunter stood under the apple tree. One hand was braced on the trunk as if to keep Heero from sinking to the ground. His free hand appeared to be swabbing his eyes, perhaps to wipe away tears that should have been shed long ago.
As Duo's moonlit shadow spread out at Heero's feet, he brushed back hair curtaining his profile, leveled his slumped shoulders and directed his fiery sight, that had not entirely been doused by tears, at his quinque counterpart.
Although Duo wasn't certain his apology would be accepted, he expressed his regret. "I'm so sorry, I...." Guilt joined the remorse, "I shouldn't have insisted. By all that's holy, Heero, I didn't mean to reopen your wounds."
Heero's voice was a bit softer than usual as he stated. "You didn't force me to speak." With a sigh borne of exhaustion he leaned his back heavily against the tree. "You'd think after four years the recalling wouldn't be so painful."
Duo leaned nearer to better see Heero's face. The silvery light filtering through the blossom bedecked branches enhanced Heero's high cheekbones and made his tanned skin glow.
"The most painful memories are always the last ones to be exorcised," Duo declared from personal experience, "but now you don't have to bear them by yourself."
Heero nodded. "I suppose I am a part of the brotherhood, the Warriors of the Rose."
Duo cupped Heero's chin and dared to whisper in his ear. "We are linked. I feel what you feel. I willingly share your joy and your pain. You will never be alone whether walking by day or wandering through the land of dreams."
Before Heero could react to the unexpected closeness. Before he recovered from the breathy words that tickled his ear and caused his heart skip a beat the Duel Spirit stepped back and broke the spell. "Its late, we're tried and fretful. Come to bed."
*********
Inside the modest bamboo house, Quatre and Wufei had cleared the table, cleaned the dishes and Trowa had banked the fire for the night.
Heero humbly begged his comrade's pardon. "I'm sorry for my outburst. Each of you have your own bitter dregs to swallow. I have no right to act as though my troubles deserve special attention."
Quatre offered a warm smile. "There is nothing to forgive. It is wiser to scream than to let your feelings fester until they make you sick."
Trowa stepped beside Quatre and wrapped an arm around his lover's slender waist. "May angels watch over you til morning."
After Trowa and Quatre retired to their bedroom. Heero and Duo laid futons side by side on the floor, stripped down to a less restrictive amount of clothing and snuggled under blankets woven from wool supplied by the sheep.
Wufei blew out the lamp. "Good night." he said just before he dropped his veil and reverted to his true form.
As the room became bathed in the fire's soothing blush, the black wolf curled up on a woven rug, tucked his tail over his back, rested his sleek muzzle on his paws and closed his soulful eyes.
In the peace of Twilight, while the moon kept its silent vigil, the wolf sighed in his sleep and dreamed of running wild with his pack.
TBC...
Author's Note: Succubus are female demons who have sex with sleeping men.
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