The Shadowman
Chapter Three
Author: Cold Silence
E-Mail: writer.coldsilence@gmail.com
Category: Alternate Universe. Medieval Times.
Pairings: So far: 4 x Relena
Warnings: NC-17. Yaoi. OOC. (I'm trying to keep them IC, but I don't think I've succeeded.) Death. Squick. Incest. Rape.
Website: http://coldsilence.tumblr.com/post/433113072/index
The Shadowman
-Chapter Three-
By the time Heero and Trowa finished herding the sheep back into their pens, the first stars were making their appearance over the horizon. Heero lived on the outskirts of Sanc, where his father Odin manned the farm. There were other kids his age who also worked on their respective properties, but these structures tended to be separated by several acres and therefore prevented him from making many friends. Trowa could be considered his "next door neighbor" since his cottage was closest to the Lowe farm.
Muted candlelight greeted them at the threshold, as well as the aroma of cooking meat. Immediately, they were on the alert, because Heero's father never cooked. The two boys exchanged wary glances before making beelines toward the kitchen.
"Nah - uh - uh! I know all about Trowa Bloom's sticky fingers, and I'll bet his bad habits have rubbed off on Heero." Their plot to "sample" the food was foiled by none other than Catherine Bloom, Trowa's mother. Planting herself in the kitchen doorway, she used her voluminous skirts as a barricade.
"Mom, why are you here?" Trowa lifted his visible eyebrow. Normally, he would have twitched the one under his mop of hair, but there was little he could hide from his mother even with the unibang.
"What, a woman can't come over and fix dinner for her neighbors? Especially the Lowes. I'll bet Heero has been eating nothing but grits all his life, haven't you boy?" said Catherine with a light smile.
"Aa," answered Heero. He was also perplexed as to Catherine's presence. Sure, it was normal for a neighbor to occasionally come over and cook in these parts, but so late at night? Plus, there was something different about Trowa's mother; a natural radiance that wasn't there before.
"He likes his grits, don't you sochi?" (1) A deep voice rumbled behind Catherine, followed by Odin Lowe sauntering into the doorway behind her. It was easy to tell that Heero got his blue eyes from the blonde haired farmer, but his other features must have been exclusively inherited from his mother. Odin couldn't help but feel a small pang of regret every time he beheld his son, for Heero was the spitting image of the woman he lost.
Trowa was a perceptive youth for his age, and the moment Odin laid his palm on his mother's shoulder, the pieces fell together as to what this was all about. This time, he hid his half smile behind the fringe of hair; no doubt Heero was completely clueless.
"Actually, dinner's not ready yet, and we have an announcement to make once we all sit down to eat." Catherine's smile was bordering on ecstatic. "Why don't you boys spend some time down at the fair?"
Odin gave a soft scowl upon hearing the word fair. Before the Winners conquered Sanc, the harvest was celebrated during the day when the sun was high to honor the Light. Though the King never outlawed the practice of worshipping the Light, people feared him to the point that they changed religions and warped their old customs and celebrations to fit that of its counterpart. Now the annual fair was celebrated in the dead of night. This bothered him to no end, for he was a staunch believer in the Light.
"And don't you make that face Mr. Odin Lowe, these boys have been working their breeches off all day. They deserve a night out! And they're old enough to take care of themselves." Catherine stubbornly folded her arms together, and everyone knew once Ms. Bloom put her foot down on something, there was no turning back.
Odin grudgingly gave in to the curly haired woman. "All right, they can go. Cathy's right, you earned your play for today. But don't get into any trouble!"
"We won't." Trowa answered Odin with a light shake of his head, before tapping Heero on the shoulder and turning to run out of the house. Heero hesitated before following, his intense blue gaze lingering on the two adults before he pivoted to go after his best friend.
Catherine hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she released it moments later, when their figures became smaller in the distance. "That boy's eyes can drill holes in iron."
Odin gave the woman an affectionate peck on the cheek, and encircled his arms around her small waist. "Don't worry, Heero will approve of our decision. I know my son."
"I hope so."
The two boys ran all the way from the house towards the main road that led to the heart of Sanc. Being located so far away in the outskirts, they would have to hitch a ride if they wanted to get to the fair held inside the city. Little puffs of dirt billowed upwards as they unceremoniously dropped to the ground to catch their breath.
"Trowa, why did they tell us to go to the fair? We'll be gone for hours and dinner doesn't take that long to make," said Heero.
Trowa simply turned that mocking, itsy bitsy smile on Heero as he loftily answered, "Heero, why is it that you can spot a butterfly 80 paces away, and yet can't see what's right under your nose?"
"What didn't I see?"
"You're so dense when it comes to this stuff."
At that moment, a cart full of partygoers came ambling down the road. The driver reined in his shaggy mare upon recognizing the two boys and gave them a wide grin. "Going my way?"
"You bet!" Trowa answered before scrambling up to join the people in the back; Heero following closely behind. The cart picked up pace again, heading towards the moonlit city filled with lights.
Every year, the Fair is one of the biggest events in Sanc. Once a festival of Light, now it was a celebration of the Dark, mostly due to the rich merchants that wanted to get on the King's good side. Bells, cymbals, and the deep, lighthearted but fast beat of drums became the background noise to the crowds gathered. A man belted out lyrics in Nihongo, the native language of the people of Sanc, and sang of doing nothing and going nowhere. During the busy time of harvest, people felt the need to throw chores to the wind and live a night of no responsibility. The Fair served this purpose well.
Most of the people donned black clothing for the event, and along the sides of the cart children ran by wearing grotesque masks that depicted the monsters that lived in the mountains. The festivities would last for a week, culminating into a massive bonfire where all the costumes would be burned for good luck and protection against the very beasts they depicted.
Trowa and Heero hopped out of the cart and found themselves immersed in a myriad of interesting sights and spicy smells that were a far cry from the dull, everyday life that they lived. As they traversed the cobblestone streets of Sanc, a decrepit old man released a jar full of fireflies, which immediately spread out and illuminated the area like a thousand twinkling stars. He gave the boys a small wink as he spoke around end of his pipe.
"The light looks beautiful in the dark, ne?"
The yellow, crusted grin of the old geezer prompted the two boys into picking up the pace and looking at some other section of the neighborhood. He was just one of the handful of people that protested the Fair in general for its blatant twisting of what they considered the "True Faith." Protesters stood out because of the pristine white clothing they wore, and they drifted around like ghosts with disdainful looks directed at the merrymakers. The ethnic, invisible barrier that separated Light from Dark was electric and thick in the air.
All that however, was forgotten the moment they spotted two red heads leaning against the side of a tavern. Marie and Meia were twins, and would have been completely identical if it weren't for the fact that Marie wore her hair long and Meia's ended just behind her neck. Dressed for the festivities in layered black dresses with "v" shaped necks that dipped down into their bosoms, they were a sight to behold for the two boys. They were seamstresses just like Trowa's mother, therefore they saw the boys often whenever they worked out of Catherine's home. Little did they know, the farmer and the stable hand had already made plans to have a double wedding with the two girls and live in side by side cottages so that their children could play together.
Such grand plans, and they hadn't even courted yet. Such is youth.
Unfortunately, upon closer inspection, the boys noticed that the girls were already in the company of someone else. They were also dressed in black, complete with masks that hung behind them on drawstrings. Judging by the way the women were penned against the wall and trying not to cringe at the black clad boys, it was obvious they weren't welcome company.
"Alex and Mueller." Trowa's quiet voice took on a strained tone as he spoke through his teeth. He openly hated the two merchant sons that hung around the stables and hit on anything that had two legs. They were constantly putting everyone down and sticking their noses in the air as if they were kings. Light forbid something didn't go their way; what they couldn't win through money was taken by brute force.
"Oh look, it's Heero and Trowa. Over here!" Upon spotting the two boys lurking nearby, a look of pure relief broke over the girls' faces. Marie called over to them in hopes that they would be rescued from the annoying situation.
"Tch, why would you want to hang around the gutter trash? If they get too close you might get fleas." Mueller sneered at the country boys, before reaching over to lightly tap Alex on the shoulder and pointing. Alex smirked before accompanying Mueller in closing the distance separating them from Heero and Trowa.
"Oi Nanashi, I'm surprised to see you here! I thought you were home spending time with your 'relations'." Finally stopping in front of them, Alex thumbed the side of his nose as he spoke to the green-eyed boy.
"Hai, I personally thought the family resemblance between Nanashi and Betty was striking. Hahahah!" chimed in Mueller.
Trowa remained in bland silence as the merchants compared him to the donkey they used to pull carts at the stables. Years of working with nobles had rendered him immune to their insults, though it was harder to take them when the girls were standing right there.
"What's the matter Nanashi, cat got your tongue? This stupid boy never speaks! I don't understand why they would let this cowhand work with our horses. To this day I still don't know his name," groused Alex.
"I know his name, it's Dick Kuntz!" sneered Mueller.
"No no it's, Arne Pitts!"
"Harry Balz!"
Marie and Meia were just about fed up with their childish behavior, as well as feeling sympathetic for their poor friend. They were stomping over towards Alex and Mueller to give them a piece of their mind when an unexpected voice broke the conversation.
"His name is Trowa." All eyes swung towards Heero, who was quietly seething with rage at the insults hurled towards his best friend.
"What was that boy?" Sandy haired Alex took a step closer to Heero, who showed no discomfort at the boy's proximity.
"I said his name is Trowa." Prussian blue bored into his face. The approach of the girls was halted at this new turn of events, and they looked on with varying degrees of surprise.
"Humph." Egged on by the audience, Alex straightened his shoulders and made himself look superior to the boy challenging him. "What are you, another stable hand? A servant? Hardly look good enough to be either. Why don't you go off and make yourself useful somewhere?"
Heero regarded the pompous boy for a few more moments before turning his gaze down. "Aa. Would you like some punch?"
Grinning at his own triumph, Alex peered past Heero towards the tables that held drinks for the passing people. His father had many servants after all, Heero was probably just someone he missed. He couldn't wait to tell his dad about the shepherd's disrespect so that he would be punished with a good whipping. "Good to see you remembered your place. Yah, I would like some punch."
Before anyone could so much as blink, Heero drew his arm back and rocketed it forwards into Alex's face, clocking him square in the nose. Marie and Meia gasped in disbelief as Mueller caught his bleeding friend, who was currently cursing up a storm.
"Let go of me! I'll kill him! I'll kill the bastard!!" Obeying, Mueller dropped Alex to the ground and reached to the scabbard at his side to withdraw a longsword. The motion was repeated by Alex once he staggered to his feet, though one hand had to be relegated to the task of holding his broken nose.
The girls prudently saw that two boys armed with swords versus two with nothing but the clothes on their backs was not a good thing, so they decided to dispense good advice to Heero and Trowa:
"RUN!! Get out of here - GO!"
Prussian met Viridian in an exchanged look, before they turned tail and shot away from the tavern. Fueled by the embarrassment of being scorned by peasant folk, Alex and Mueller were right behind them, waving their swords to make sure anyone who got in their way knew to move. Fast.
There was no time to enjoy the scenery now. Singing and laughter became a muted buzz in the background of their harsh breathing as they pushed past black clothed men and women. Every glance back showed that the progress of their pursuers was only slightly hindered by the masses.
Drastic times called for drastic measures, and the chase became more heated once Heero and Trowa began hopping over stands and diving between people's legs to throw off Alex and Mueller. Though the situation was threatening, the exhilaration expressed through the adrenaline pumping in their veins moved them to enjoy this almost otherworldly detachment from their normal lives.
A hint of satisfaction curled the corner of Heero's lips as a barrel he kicked over knocked Alex clear off his feet. Very nearly skidding right to their bottoms taking a sharp turn, they ducked into an alleyway only to find themselves face to face with a dead end.
"Kso!" cursed Heero. Trowa echoed his friend's sentiments as they frantically climbed atop a covered cart braced against the walls. However, even with Trowa's long legs, they weren't able to reach the rooftops and escape that way.
Alex and Mueller turned the corner, their presence effectively blocking the only way out through the mouth of the alley. After getting sucker punched, falling onto the streets and being accidentally walked on by people, they were reasonably pissed.
"They look like two cornered rats." Mueller's voice was raspy with the dirt that clogged his throat as he stalked forwards, sword held in the ready.
Trowa suddenly elbowed his friend and surreptitiously threw a glance downwards, indicating the cart they were standing on. Heero likewise looked down, and understanding dawned in his eyes.
"I'm going to gut you like the stupid waste of meat you are!" threatened Alex. The angry boys ran towards the cart, ready to scramble up the sides and give the peasants a cutting they won't soon forget. However, just as they got close enough to begin climbing, Heero and Trowa simultaneously kicked the two levers that were holding the wagon's brakes in place.
The entire cart slouched forwards and began spilling a literal shitload of manure onto the bewildered merchants. Their cries of outrage were drowned by the brown stuff that buried them completely from head to toe. Because of the tilt of the wagon, Heero and Trowa began sliding towards the mess they had made, but they were smart enough to jump off at the last moment and land in crouches on the other side of the pile.
They didn't miss a beat and ran out of the alley to leave Alex and Mueller to claw themselves out of the dirt. Once more finding themselves among a crowd of people, they burst into riotous laughter, even as a loud cry echoed from the alley they had just exited:
"YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!! MARK MY WORDS!!!"
Heero wore a wild grin on his face as he hopped up on the back of a wagon homebound for the outskirts of the city. Trowa was right behind, cheeks flushed from the laughter that he couldn't seem to disperse.
Still grinning, Heero tried to calm down his friend by throwing a fistful of hay at him. "Trowa!" The bundle of straw smacked the emerald eyed boy in the face, but to no effect. Getting slightly annoyed, Heero tried to gain his attention again. "Trowa!"
Trowa could barely see through the haze of tears in his vision as he continued to double over with mirth.
"Trowa, how could you let them treat you like that? You are ten times better than the merchant scum." Heero's own humor was subdued by his words. The cart shuddered before beginning to roll away, and Trowa finally stopped laughing and returned his friend's gaze.
"It's just the way things are. I'm used to it." The light that was in Trowa's eyes seemed to fade, even though he still smiled hollowly and picked up a straw of hay to munch on. It bothered Heero to no end that Trowa was constantly taking this kind of abuse and never lifting a finger against it. He should have had the prudence to punch Alex in the face himself!
Finally settling down, they lapsed into silence, each contemplating their thoughts. However, after a few moments, they realized something was wrong. At first, they couldn't pinpoint the reason the hair in the back of their necks was standing up, but soon it became obvious: The fairgrounds were silent.
The cart had drawn to a stop, and the boys stood up on the balls of their feet to look back towards the city. Sure enough, the clamor had completely died down, and all heads were pointed towards Castle Sandrock. Following the intent looks, they spotted what had gotten the entire population spooked.
Out of the main doors of courtyard, there was a sea of black flooding out of the gates and meandering towards the mountains. The source of the obsidian colors were the individual uniforms worn by King Winner's army, which poured down the sides of the plateau like spilled ink across a white page.
The people watched in frightened silence as the wave of darkness entered the forest barrier at the base of the mountain supporting Castle Sandrock and... disappeared. It was like watching someone walk into a door, but not coming out the other end. There was no telltale swaying of trees or any kind of movement to indicate that an army of that size was traveling through the wood. It was as if they vanished the moment they touched the border of the treeline.
It was quiet to the point that the distant sound of rampaging hooves could be heard as a very faint rumble. Eventually, even that sound began to die out when the bulk of the distant army vanished into nothingness. The spell of silence was broken once the driver of their cart spoke very softly:
"The Shadowman rides."
Like a bubble being pricked, the trance was broken and a muted buzz filled the streets, rumors already flying. The cart started up again, although the boys remained standing to watch as the last of the soldiers disappeared into the umbrage. Awed, curious, and perhaps even a small spike of fear filled their stomachs.
An atmosphere of apprehension settled upon them, and the fireflies continued to dance around their figures as if caught in a massive tornado.
End Chapter Three
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(1) sochi: "son"