Take this man who comes to you
Take me to your side
I throw away my soulless days
I need you in my life
“Giddap!!”
Zelgadis groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow tighter around his head and the covers over it to block out the sound. His head was throbbing and he just wanted to go back to sleep. Go away, he urged them silently.
The clatter of the iron-shod hooves over cobblestones and the lusty shouts of the driver urging them on soon receded to the point where he could ignore them. Heaving a sigh of relief, he settled further into the mattress. Just a bit longer then he’d need to get up and get ready to catch the coach to Gehn. From there, he could book passage to either the Coastal States or Ralteague. And from there to Seyruun…
His eyes snapped open and he stared at the patch of sunlight painted on the wall opposite the window. The coach…The coach that left an hour after dawn…
Scrambling upward, he rushed to the window and flung it open. Leaning out so far he nearly fell, he craned his neck to see the dust trail the indicated that the coach he’d hoped to be on was leaving. Without him.
“SHIT!!” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the window sill and wincing when he heard it crack. The next coach didn’t arrive until next week. He couldn’t wait around that long.
Turning around, he went back to his bed and dropped onto the edge to put his head in his hands. Why did this have to happen to him? It had taken him two weeks just to get this far. The basilisk venom had severely weakened him and he found he couldn’t travel as far in a day as he had previous to his run-in with the creature. He really hadn’t wanted to walk to Gehn, but now…Unless he wanted to wait another week for the next coach, and set back his arrival in Seyruun that much, he had to walk. He wanted to get to Seyruun as fast as possible. And horses were rare out here and what ones were available for sale were priced exorbitantly. And he’d need his money for the boat…
Lifting his head, he looked at the guitar standing next to the chair by the door. He could always do a little busking or find a card game…
No, he told himself. The memories of his dream were too fresh, too raw. He didn’t need to get distracted by things like that. Or take the time. He’d just have to walk, like he’d done every other time he’d needed to go someplace. His feet were free.
Standing up, he caught up his clothes and went to go wash up and get dressed and get started. If he was lucky, it wouldn’t take much more than four or five days to get to Gehn. No better time to get started than the present.
* * *
When the road finally crested the hill and ran through the archway into the city, Zelgadis could have wept with relief. It had taken him much longer to reach the port city than he’d anticipated. He’d been held up in one of the smaller towns to the south during some monsoonal-strength downpours that had washed out the roads. He’d passed the coach which he’d missed, only to discover that they’d broken an axle and were having to wait for the next coach to pass. So he wouldn’t have been any better off if he had caught that coach.
So here he was, standing at the edge of Gehn, the port city on the coast of the continent south of the Barrier Kingdoms, and staring down the main avenue at the busy market. Zelgadis pulled his hood up over his head out of habit not and from any real desire to hide. He was tired, and feeling irritable and weak and thought it would just be better to try and avoid as much attention as possible. Hefting his pack and guitar over his shoulder, he struck off through the main marketplace.
It didn’t take him long to find the street he was looking for and turn down it’s clean, cobbled length to enter a wealthy section of the merchants’ sector. And even less time after that to spot the wooden sign with a mace and a vase painted on it. The Chimera approached the door slowly, hesitantly, almost reluctantly.
As it opened with a jangle of a bell, he wondered if this was the right thing to do. She probably had problems enough of her own and didn’t need him coming to share his. But even as he hesitated on the threshold thinking of perhaps disappearing before he could be seen, a voice came through the door to the inner room in the shop, preceding its owner by a few seconds.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed right now—”
The blonde woman pulled aside the doorway curtain and froze in shock as she looked right at him. “Zelgadis-san? Is that you?” She came forward, hand outstretched. “Come in! Come in!” Her joy at seeing an old friend so unexpectedly turned into confusion and concern as his appearance registered on her: He was visibly sagging, face pale and with two high spots of color on his cheeks that wasn’t normal and his eyes were…haunted. “What…What’s wrong, Zelgadis-san?” she asked, clearly trying not to expect the worst but doing so anyway. “Has something happened?”
He shook his head and let the door close behind him. “No. Yes. To me.” He paused, feeling awkward. “Do you…Filia, do you mind if I stay here for a day or so? Until I can find a ship to take me back to the Barrier Kingdoms?”
“Of course not!” The Golden Dragon took his arm gently and led him into the back of the shop and into the kitchen. “You can stay here as long as you like, Zelgadis-san. Here, let me take your things.” She held out her hands to take his pack and guitar. Gratefully, he surrendered them to her, removed his sword and stood it by the wall and sank into a chair. He stared at the tabletop while he heard Filia bustling around the kitchen—making tea, no doubt.
“How about a nice, hot cup of tea?” she asked.
He couldn’t resist smiling. Filia’s panacea was a nice, hot cup of tea. And while he would have preferred coffee, he didn’t object. “Yes, thanks, Filia.”
She put the cup of steaming tea in front of him, along with a pot of honey and a pitcher of cream. “Or would you like lemon?” she asked, pushing aside her golden bangs.
“No, this is fine,” he said, picking up the cup and blowing on it slightly to cool it. She pulled out a chair and sat opposite him, putting a bit of honey and adding some cream to her own tea and watching him carefully as he sipped the beverage.
“Zelgadis-san?” she asked after a moment.
“Hmm?” he answered, his thoughts still far away.
“It’s not that it isn’t nice to see you, but it is a bit of a surprise. Is there something else I can do for you, perhaps? Something you need?”
He swallowed hard against the sudden lump of fear he found strangling him. “Filia, you haven’t happened to have heard from…the others, would you have?”
“You mean Lina-san?”
“Uh…no. Yes. I mean, any of them…” he answered, hedging.
“I got a letter from Lina-san not so long ago. She and Gourry-san were somewhere south of here, I think. Headed back towards Seyruun after they finished cleaning up the local bandits.” She wrinkled her nose in good-natured distaste.
Zelgadis set his cup down on the table and played his fingers over the rim in a rare nervous gesture while looking into it instead of at the former Shrine Maiden across from him. “How about…Amelia?”
She shook her head. “Not recently. Got a letter from her several months ago.” Filia looked at him curiously, taking in the haggard appearance and the shadowed eyes—not missing the way he avoided looking at her, something quite unusual for the cold-hearted swordsman/sorcerer who could outstare a snake. “Is everything…” She paused and started over. “You said something had happened to you. Can I help in anyway?”
He didn’t answer right away; in fact, he took so long answering Filia thought maybe he wasn’t going to answer her at all. Then, hesitantly, and in a voice so full of personal pain and confusion she felt her own throat tighten as he looked up at her and said, “Can you tell me about dreams, Filia?”
“I…” Taken aback somewhat, she nodded. “Most dreams are just gibberish, Zelgadis-san. Our memories stirred up and played back in random order; anxieties creating random images.”
“But there are others? That can be significant?”
Again, she nodded. “That’s true. Some very intense or vivid dreams can be a personal prophecy or revelation. They can come from outside of us or a part of our soul that will no longer be ignored.”
“And can you, as a former Shrine Maiden of the Fire Dragon King, interpret them?”
“Yes, it’s part of my powers.” She looked at him, wanting to comfort him in some way. He looked so upset, which in itself was upsetting. In the short time she’d known him, she knew that he was very conscientious of and careful to maintain his outward composure.. “Do you…Do you have a dream you want to tell me about?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
She set her cup down and stood. “Come with me,” she said. The Chimera followed her into a room off the kitchen and into a comfortable sitting room. Filia gestured, asking him to take a seat. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she did the same. Choosing an overstuffed chair, he sat and leaned back. Placing his hands on the arms, he leaned his head back against the chair back. “So, Zelgadis-san, tell me about your dream.”
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and haltingly at first, then with growing confidence, he told her about his dream.
* * *
Filia sat in silence as he finished his account. She had not had much experience with dream interpretation, however, she knew that this was a true prophecy. Never had she heard of such strong and powerful images being dreamt. She didn’t understand all of them, even, for some of them were obviously intensely personal symbols specific to and meaningful only to Zelgadis.
“Well?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together and held up a hand. “A moment, please, Zelgadis-san.” Sitting back, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her powers. When her mind was clear, the answer came through clear and loud. “It means you should stop looking for this cure and get yourself back to Seyruun as fast as earthly possible.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Irritably, he said, “I figured that. Why do you think I’m looking for a boat back to the Barrier Kingdoms? Tell me something I don’t know.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out which he then started playing with. “What about the other stuff? This Coyote person? That weird party? My friends putting me on trial? The mirrors? The blood rain? Everything.”
Filia watched him smoothing the glass ball attached to the pink ribbon for a moment before realizing it was one of Amelia’s bracelets. Taking a deep breath, she started:
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the answers you need, Zelgadis-san. Your dream is indeed a prophecy dream; I can see that. However, the imagery is too intensely personal and specific to your own circumstances; I have no frame of reference with which to interpret them. I can only offer my personal opinion: You need Amelia. Go to her.”
Zelgadis’ lips thinned into a hard line. “That’s all you have to say?” His voice was hard.
Sighing, she nodded. “I’m sorry if it’s not what you want to hear, but there were some things that were very clear: You care about her. You want to go to her; why do you fight it so much?”
It looked as if he weren’t going to answer her, and the silence stretched out thin before them—Filia watching him playing with Amelia’s bracelet and Zelgadis staring into space as if lost in his own little world. She had just opened her mouth to apologize for her comment when he put the bracelet back in his pocket and looked at her. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know any more.”
“Then maybe you should stop fighting it?”
He stood. “I don’t know that, either.”
The Dragon maiden rose and extended a hand towards him. That was when she noticed him shaking. “Zelgadis-san?”
Holding up a hand to stay her concern, he shook his head. “I’m fine. Just…weak. I was attacked by a basilisk a few weeks ago and still haven’t recovered my strength.”
Horror froze her. “A basilisk? You—It didn’t bite you, did it?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“And this was before you had your dream?” she demanded.
Confused he nodded again, feeling particularly thick.
“You’ve got to get to Seyruun right away, then.” Suddenly, she was very business-like. “I know some people at the harbor who will help get you passage on a ship and get you as close to Seyruun as possible.”
“Why? Filia, why does it matter?”
She turned and faced him. “Because, Zelgadis-san, taken in small quantities, basilisk venom can increase latent prescience abilities.”
The Chimera drew back, shocked. “How small?”
“Extremely diluted. One drop can be diluted to make a dozen doses. The amount you must have received from that bite was probably enough to keep an apothecary supplied for several lifetimes. Men have died imbibing much less than that. Or been driven mad.” She took his arm and led him back into the kitchen and up the stairs. “You should be in bed recovering, but you can’t afford that luxury. No wonder your dream was so strong and vivid.”
“You mean, Amelia might—” For once, he could not find a way to voice his horror.
“Don’t start that,” Filia snapped, leading him into the guest bedroom. “Unless you had presenscient abilities beforehand, I doubt you’ve suddenly contracted them.” Filia paused on her way back to the door. “You didn’t, did you?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
Filia nodded. “It probably just helped to increase the strength of the dream and bring your own personal demons out to play. But still, there’s no use taking a chance, is there.” She turned back to the door. “You rest. I’ll have Jiras bring up your things and I’ll go make the arrangements for you.” With that she shut the door and left him. She hurried down the stairs calling for Jiras and Grabos, leaving instructions for the former to take Zelgadis’ things up to him and nearly dragging the latter out of the shop by his ear as she headed towards the docks to make arrangements.
* * *
Zelgadis sank onto the bed suddenly breathless. The dragon maiden could certainly be taxing when one’s defenses were down. Now that she was gone, he let go of the tight control he’d kept on himself and slumped sideways onto the pillows.
Just telling her about his dream had been draining on his already diminished reserves. Even though he knew he should be up and about helping arrange his travel plans, he couldn’t bring himself to stir from the bed. It was nice to finally be someplace safe, where he could relax his guard. The last few weeks had taken a greater toll on him than he wanted to admit, both mentally, physically and emotionally. Now he could relax…
It was with a grateful sigh that he pulled his legs up, curled up on the bed and drifted off to sleep. For once, his dreams were quiet and not full of disturbing images, either from his old nightmare, or the new one that had taken its place.
* * *
A high, lonely cry echoed over the liquid sound of the ship plowing through the low waves and the snapping of the sails in the wind. On the deck of the ship, sitting with his back against the foremast out of the way of the sailors who worked to keep the ship on course, was a Chimera. His normally blue-colored skin was tinged with green and he sat with his head leaning back against the mast, knees up and hands hanging limply as he rested his arms on his knees.
Zelgadis didn’t even bother to look up at the gull that paced the ship as it raced north along the coast of the continent. Instead he concentrated on his stomach and keeping the contents down. He couldn’t understand this; he’d been on ships before and never got seasick. And yet this time he’d been bedridden for the first three days of the voyage, three days of pure hell that had left him weaker than before. He should be regaining his strength, not losing more and more of it every day, and yet here he was, doing just that. No matter how much he slept, he couldn’t shake the fatigue. Nor could he shake the malaise that had haunted him ever since his dream. Or the thought that something was happening in Seyruun and he needed to be there.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he grimaced. To top everything off, he was getting a headache, too. Perfect. Just what he needed. Four more days of sailing if they had a good wind. More if they ran into bad weather. Please, Ceiphied, don’t let the weather turn bad, he prayed.
The fresh air, however, seemed to be having a positive effect on his gastronomic difficulties. Heaving a sigh of relief, he picked up the leather-bound book he’d put down beside him. It fell open to a page marked with a pencil on which he’d written out a few lines of verse. Reading over them, and despite his fatigue and upset stomach, he liked what he’d managed to pound out:
Take this man who comes to you
Take me to your side
He nodded and smiled a wan smile. Yes, and it worked. He liked it. Nodding, he hummed the next few bars of the song he’d composed and started scribbling out the next lines.
Above him, the gull cried again, sounding a little less lonely this time.
* * *
In the doorway of my heart
The presence of you shines
So put your face to my window
Trust what you see inside
Gehn to Atlas City on Lyzeille’s coast. A week. The overland journey from Atlas to Talmoord near the border of Lyzeille and Ralteague. Another week. From Talmoord, it’s a two week journey to Seyruun’s capital city on foot—a week by coach. Allowing for delays and stops and other emergencies, it took Zelgadis roughly a month to get from Gehn to Seyruun.
And here he stood, at last, on the hill that overlooked the white-walled city below. The coach had been forced to stop at a village within half a day’s walk to the city because of a lame horse so he’d opted to continue on rather than wait for a replacement to arrive.
Midsummer Night.
He looked down on the city below, fairly glowing in the late summer evening. Seyruun was far enough north that the nights didn’t fall completely until late and the mornings came early. The sky behind him to the west was still pale and by his internal clock, it was nearly ten.
The city itself was lit up with torches and lamps from well outside the walls, all the way to the center. Even from this distance, he could make out the Palace. He wondered if there was some sort of special celebration going on for Midsummer or if there it was something else entirely. Hefting his pack on his shoulder, he started off down the road. If the city was up and celebrating, there was a good chance he could still get into the Palace and see Amelia. The desire and need to see her, make sure she was really all right, had not left him nor diminished in strength during his journey. However, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say when he did see her. Unconsciously, he brushed the wrist on which he wore her bracelet against his leg, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing lately, and wondered what he would do if everything turned out to be fine and the dream was all just that…a horrible dream.
He didn’t even want to think about what he would do if it was more than a dream…
The road leading into the city was lit up by lamps placed upon poles and a tent city had sprung up around the walls to either side. Even this late, there were still people milling about, dancing, eating, laughing, drinking. All sorts and forms of merriment could be seen. Cautiously, the Chimera skirted most of the activity and slipped through the gates of the city with as little attention drawn to himself as possible.
Once inside the city proper, the festive atmosphere intensified, as if concentrated by the walls. Colorful streamers, buntings and flowers decorated the roadway, and at every crossroads a banner with a likeness of Amelia had been hung. He stopped under the first one he came to and just stared at it: She wore a low-cut dress and her hair was a bit longer than he’d last seen it and curled onto her shoulders. A tiara sat among her dark locks, and her eyes…He just stared at them. She looked very happy.
So…His dream had been wrong. There was nothing happening here. It’d been…a false dream all along. Amelia was in no danger. So where had that crazy dream come from and what the hell had it meant?
“Welcome, stranger!” a loud voice sounded near his ear. He winced and covered his pointed ear and turned to glare at the offender. “Come for the celebration? Here!” The tall man shoved a tankard of ale into his hand and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Zelgadis called. “I’ve just arrived here. What’s going on?”
The man looked shocked. “You mean you don’t know? Why tonight’s the Princess’ eighteenth birthday!”
Zelgadis stared at the man, shocked. “Her birthday?”
“Yes! And in honor of that, Prince Philionel has provided the entire city with free food and drink. So drink up! Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you’ll have to pay for it.”
“Thanks,” Zelgadis said absently, raising the tankard to his lips. Well, if anything else, he could surprise her by showing up and claiming to have come back for her birthday. It would save him the awkwardness of having to explain why he’d come rushing back or even mentioning his dream.
Before he could take a sip of the ale, the man who’d given it to him slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Stick around. At midnight, the Princess announces who she’s chosen to be her Consort. That’s when the party really starts.” He turned and melted back into the crowd.
Zelgadis nearly dropped the tankard as he spun around to look for the other man. He scanned the crowd, but he couldn’t find him. Instead, he grabbed another passerby, a tall swordsman with dark hair, wearing the uniform of one of the City Guards. “Excuse me,” he said. “Is it true that Ame—the Princess is announcing her engagement tonight?”
The Guard looked at him and nodded. “Yes. At midnight.” He looked Zelgadis up and down and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. “Why?”
The Chimera simply shoved the tankard into the Guard’s hands and pushed by him. “I’ve got to get to the Palace,” he said and proceeded to push his way down the avenue.
The Guard shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’t.” He shoved the tankard into the hands of another passerby and hared off after Zelgadis. Pulling a whistle from his lapel, he blew a shrill note that would bring others of the Guard rushing to his aid.
Paying no attention to the whistle, Zelgadis forced his way through the crowds only one goal in mind: To get to the Palace and get inside before midnight. What he was going to do, he didn’t know, but he had to get there before…Before midnight.
It wasn’t until he felt hands on his arms, pulling him around, that he realized that there was a disturbance around him. The crowd had thinned and he was surrounded by Guards. They all had their swords out. The one he’d spoken to moments earlier waved his sword threateningly in Zelgadis’ direction. “All right, who are you and why do you have to get to the Palace so badly?” he demanded.
Zelgadis drew himself up and held up his hands. “Look…My name is Zelgadis Greywers. I’m a friend of Amelia’s. I’ve just come to see her, that’s all.”
The Guard nodded. “Yeah, sure you’re a friend of hers. And I’m his Highness, Prince Philionel. I don’t know what your game is, but you can forget getting into the Palace tonight. It’s restricted access. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when we can verify your identity. So if you’ll just come along with me…” He straightened, lowered his sword and held out his hand.
“No. Tomorrow it will be too late. I have to see her tonight. Just go tell her I’m here and you’ll see that I’m right.” Dread amplified his heartbeat in his chest.
“I told you, not tonight. What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow, anyway?”
This was nuts. Zelgadis ran his hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. He didn’t recognize this guard; he must have joined after he was here last. “Look, will you just go ask?”
The Guard shook his head. “I have my orders. No one is to go into the Palace who isn’t already in there. If you don’t come quietly, I’ll be forced to arrest you.”
“Arrest me? On what charge? Damn it, never mind!” He stared at the Guard, then going from a standstill to a run in a blink of an eye, he flew past him, using his demon speed to put as much distance between them as possible.
It wasn’t as much as he would have liked. He was forced to slow down still a good ways from the Palace gate. He could hear the pounding footsteps and shrill whistles as the Guards pursued him down the avenue.
Think, Zelgadis, think, he shouted at himself. The ruckus behind him had alerted the Guards at the gate and they were pounding towards him. Only…They didn’t know he was the one the others were after, right? Pulling up his hood, he turned to the side and joined a crowd of partiers who looked curiously on. Doing his best to appear inconspicuous, he watched the second group of Guards run past.
When they’d gone by, Zelgadis slipped out of the crowd and headed towards the Palace. The avenue crossed the river here and then split into a wide street that circled the Palace walls. Once across the bridge, he turned to the right, heading south along the walls.
Eventually, he came to a barred gate in the wall that let into the gardens inside the walls. Finding a bit of shadow in which to hide, he used his supernatural hearing to listen for signs of anyone on the other side of the wall and for the Guards. The whistles and shouts had receded as they no doubt were spreading out through the city to look for him. But it never hurt to be too careful.
Taking one last look around, he stepped out of the shadow and up to the wall. The moonlight illuminated this area of the walls well—too well, for just as he stepped out, a Guard came running around the corner.
“Shit,” Zelgadis muttered as the whistle sounded shrill in his ears. “Levitation!” he said by way of a follow-up and felt his power gather around him and lift him into the air. The Guard fell backwards and stared at him, then turned and ran in the direction of the main gate. “Why can’t things ever be easy?” he asked no one in particular as he glided over the wall then over, settling lightly in the shadow of some trees. Dropping his pack and guitar here, he gripped his sword and made his way carefully through the garden to the Palace itself.
He found the party by following the sounds of laughter and the blazing lights. The doors to the ballroom were thrown wide and the party spilled out onto the carefully kept grounds that surrounded the low terrace outside. Hanging lanterns were set out to provide light and small table gave the party-goers a place to sit and enjoy themselves and the refreshments. Skulking along the edges of shadow, Zelgadis experienced a dizzying sense of non-reality as he watched the people moving about: They were all dressed in either red or black and bore embroidered insignia upon their clothes. As a group passed near him, he could make out hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds.
A chill went through him and he had to force himself to be still in the shadows though he felt his hands shaking as they gripped the trunk of the tree behind which he hid. What the hell…? he thought to himself. “This is not real…This is not real…” he muttered over and over, and yet even after pounding a fist into the tree, he knew it was real.
Carefully, he stepped out of his hiding place and moved closer towards the stairs to the terrace. Falling into step behind a group who were headed back into the ballroom, he strode purposefully into the room. The best way to hide is to make yourself look like you belong where you don’t. Once inside, he angled over towards the wall and a tall potted tree where he could observe without being observed himself.
As he watched the swirling movement of color and the shifting crowd on the ballroom floor, dancing to the music provided by a quartet of musicians in the gallery above, he felt a strange sense of disorientation greater than that he’d experienced outside. The press of people was greater here and his already frayed nerves were bombarded by raw sounds and sights. The fatigue which had been temporarily displaced by adrenaline descended like a fog upon him. It didn’t help that he finally noticed that the party-goers were masked, just as they had been in his dream.
He leaned against the tree and scanned the crowd, searching for dark, purple-black hair and wide blue eyes. He spotted Phil across the room looking overly enthusiastic and jolly in his costume as the King of Clubs. That, at least, was a relief. He didn’t know if he could have handled seeing Phil in motley again.
Then he spotted her: The crowd on the floor swung to a stop as the music ended and turned towards the gallery to applaud the musicians. It parted and there she stood, looking breathless and fairly glowing and smiling and—
Zelgadis’ heart stopped. She was dressed as the Queen of Hearts. And as he watched the Jack of Hearts, a tall man with long black hair braided with red and blue beads, approached her and took her hand as the musicians started up again. She flashed him a smile and moved in close so they could dance. As the crowd surged around the two of them, the man turned and Zelgadis looked straight into Coyote’s golden eyes.
* * *
What are these hands for
If I can’t bring you fallen rain
What are these eyes for
If I can’t see the moon
Watch over you
“You look absolutely lovely tonight, Your Highness,” the tall man with black braids said as he caught her hands and pulled her into the pattern of the next dance.
“Thank you…uh…” she murmured, searching for a name to go with the face. Amelia couldn’t remember either.
“You can call me Coyote,” he said with a smile as he swept her around the dance floor.
“Coyote-san,” she repeated, adding the polite honorific and inclining her head slightly.
He smiled down at her, his golden eyes sparkling. “No. Just Coyote.”
Amelia returned the smile and nodded. “All right, Coyote.” Her smile faded a bit and she became distracted. As they danced, she looked furtively around the room as they danced.
“Looking for someone?” he asked finally as she craned her neck to try and see over the crowds.
Startling, she snapped her attention back to her partner. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she gasped, aware that she’d been rude to him. “Uh…no. No,” she repeated, her voice soft and resigned. Glancing up at the tall clock at the end of the hallway, she saw that there was less than an hour until midnight. She’d been so sure—
The Princess bit her lip as she realized that she hadn’t been sure; she’d merely been hoping. Hoping that someone would be here tonight. That he would have been here long ago.
But how could he have known? Amelia hadn’t known that the Council was going to insist she pick a suitor this soon. Sighing, she turned her attention back to Coyote and the dance.
“Ah, now you’re here,” he said, giving her a half smile. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”
Shaking her head again, she gave him a half-grin. “I really am very sorry, Coyote-s—Coyote. It’s just that I was hoping someone would be here, but I’m afraid he…He’s not coming.”
Coyote spun her around and smiled enigmatically down at her. “Well, don’t give up hope yet, Princess. You never know. People can surprise you.” His eyes flickered downwards to take in the way the dress she wore accented her figure and his enigmatic smile turned…Amelia couldn’t find the words to describe it. It frightened her and yet at the same time, a little thrill ran up and down her spine. “I must say, red looks very nice on you.”
Now she blushed. “Thank you again.” There was something familiar about him, and yet Amelia couldn’t put her finger on it. He was definitely very attractive, his pale skin a startling contrast to his dark hair. His long braids lay over the lapels of his frockcoat and she noticed that there were red and blue beads worked into them. She stared at them, curious, for several moments.
“So, tell me, Princess, this person you’re waiting for. What’s he like?”
Amelia looked up into his golden eyes and blinked. “I…” How did she describe him? “He’s quiet, very serious, and withdrawn,” she began, thinking back to the time they’d spent traveling together. “He hurts a lot inside, you see, that’s why he’s quiet and serious all the time.” She turned over more memories and smiled without realizing it. “But when he can forget that for a while, he’s got a wonderful smile that is worth all the teeth that had to be pulled to get it. He…He likes to think of himself as hard and cold, but he’s only that on the surface. On the inside, he’s protective of his friends, loyal and…” She paused a moment before continuing on. “Considerate in unlikely ways and places, I’d have to say.” She looked up to find Coyote looking down at her with a strange smile on his face. Not the one he’d just given her, not even enigmatic, but…hopeful?
“You must really like him,” he said as he swung her around the dance floor again. “This hard, cold, yet protective man of yours.”
Amelia blushed again and looked away from his knowing eyes. “Yes,” she replied.
“Does he feel the same about you?”
She blinked and stared at his cravat pin; it was in the shape of a howling coyote. “I…I’m not sure how he feels. I’d like to think he does, but—”
“But he’s not here; if he did, he would be. So that must mean—”
“No. It doesn’t mean that,” she snapped. “He just didn’t know about this. I didn’t know about this. It’s something the Council is forcing me to do because they want no question as to the succession to the throne, understand?” She glared up at him.
“I understand,” Coyote said smoothly, seemingly not offended by her sharp words. “So if he were to show up now…What would you do?”
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
They continued dancing for a few more moments, then Coyote pulled her closer to him, closing the gap between the two of them. Amelia gasped, and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. And yet, she felt strangely pleased by his attentions. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat. “Amelia,” he whispered softly to her as he held her close. “Your friend is a fool not to come rushing back here and claim you for his own. If I had a woman like you, I would let nothing stand between the two of us.”
Something hot and bright flashed through her, stabbing at her like a sword charged with a Mono Bolt. She’d been called a woman by men before, but never had the meaning of the word been driven home as it had with Coyote’s statement. She felt herself flush as he held her against his hard, firm body, and the blood seemed to rush from her brain to leave her dizzy and disoriented. “I…” She tried to push away, but his arms, though not insistent, were strong and comforting, reminding her of another set of arms that had held her on occasion. And she couldn’t break away.
He swept her around and around as the dance continued. Leaning close to her, he whispered again, “I am a collector, Amelia. I collect songs. I would love to sing your song, but I’m afraid that right doesn’t belong to me.”
“W-what? What do you mean?” she stammered, confused by this sudden shift in the conversation. “What song?”
“Your song. I did hear it, though,” he replied. “Once in the desert. A man I met there was writing it and played it for me. He hadn’t finished it yet, so I don’t know it.”
Fighting against the confusion that attacked her from several fronts, Amelia pushed against him. “What man? Where?”
Coyote smiled a smile that a man gives only to a woman. “Just a man. In the desert. We shared a campfire.” He pulled her up and laid his cheek along hers so that his lips were close to her ear. Frightened by what her body was feeling, Amelia gasped and wanted to struggle, but couldn’t find the strength to pull away. “Would you like to hear his song?” he asked, his hands moving along her waist and over the gentle flare of her hips. “I can give you that.”
Dumbly, she nodded, letting her eyes close as they danced on oblivious to the other dancers. She could smell something sweet clinging to him, in his hair: The scent of sweet herbs and cedar and sage. They filled her nostrils and made her dizzy as they conjured up images of the moon riding high over the desert. “Please,” she whispered. Hesitantly, she put her arms around his chest and held him.
He sang to her in a voice like cool water on a hot day. It didn’t matter that they were dancing in a sea of dancers and the band was playing something else entirely. All Amelia could hear was his voice, singing low and mournfully into her ear. All she could see was the moonlit desert behind her eyelids. All she could feel were his arms around her, holding her, and the strange new sensations that threatened to burn her up from the inside.
And his song went like this: Desperado…
The words blended until each individual word had no meaning, instead merging with one another and taking on a deeper purpose as part of the whole. She saw a lone man walking through the desert at night, a cloak blowing gently in the night wind. A pack was slung over one shoulder and a guitar case the other. Moonlight glinted on metallic hair, shifting in the same wind that plucked at his cloak. Moonlight kissed the smooth stones that were as much a part of his features as his eyes, nose, and mouth were. Which in no way diminished the beauty that she saw there.
She smiled as she saw him come towards her, happy and frightened at the same time. His eyes were as intense as always, perhaps even more so than usual. He dropped his pack and the guitar and opened his arms and took her into them. That same white-hot knife stabbed through her as he pulled her up against him. Amelia gasped as he stared into her eyes with a power that threatened to drown her. And then he was leaning down, bringing his lips closer and closer to hers. She closed her eyes and waited for him, but the contact never came. For just before they would have touched, a voice said, “…it’s too late.”
Amelia’s eyes flew open to find herself still in Coyote’s arms and his clear voice echoing in her mind. Her eyes went wide with terror as she pushed away from him and whirled around to stare at the clock at the end of the ballroom. Less than twenty minutes remained before midnight. And he was not here.
“No,” she whispered, shaking with the feelings that Coyote’s touch and song had aroused within her.
“What was that, Your Highness?” someone said next to her.
She whirled around, Coyote’s name on her lips, but stumbled when she found him gone. The one that had spoken to her was a prince from Dills, short, brown-haired, and mildly good-looking in a mousy kind of way. “I…I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she said, gathering her skirts and looking around wildly. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t breathe. “Excuse me, but I need some air. Thank you.” Flashing him a quick, weak smile, she picked up her skirts and pushed through the suffocating crowd. Why were there so many people here?
Finally, she made it through the crowd and to the doors to the balcony. Rushing through them, she hurried down the steps and into the darkened gardens before anyone could follow her, ignoring the sound of someone calling her name behind her. Doubling back in the dark, she found the gate that led around to the Temple, ducked through and rushed along the carefully groomed path there. The summer air was cool in comparison to that in the crowded ballroom and her own heated flush. Shivering, she dropped her skirts and slowed to a walk as she found herself on the steps to Ceiphied’s Temple. On impulse, she climbed them and entered the Temple. She needed time and someplace quiet to think. If she couldn’t find it here, she wouldn’t find it anywhere.
* * *
What are these arms for
If I can’t hold you through the night
What does this heart beat for
If I can’t lay by your side
You must know
I was made for you
Zelgadis straightened from where he’d slumped against the wall. Seeing Coyote had produced a vertigo in him that had slammed him up against the wall and threatened to steal his breath from his lungs. What was the man doing here?!
Recovering himself, he took a deep breath and scanned the crowd for any signs of Amelia and Coyote. However, since the music had begun, the crowd had surged and changed, shifting like waves on the ocean. “Damn,” he muttered, wishing Coyote were as tall as Gourry so he could spot the man in the crowd.
There. Towards the far end of the room, the two of them were dancing. Amelia looked distracted, as if she weren’t really dancing with Coyote at all. The Chimera was about to exit his hiding place to go after them when he spotted the uniform of one of the Guards. Muttering to himself, he drew himself further back into the shadows to watch until the Guard had passed.
While he waited, he could see Amelia and Coyote talking. He ignored Coyote and concentrated on Amelia’s face: In the months since he’d last seen her, she seemed to have lost the little girl look about her. Dressed in that low-cut gown of red velvet, she looked every bit a regal young woman.
Sighing, he leaned his forehead against the tree that provided his cover. A Queen. And what was he? A Chimera with skin formed of stone. A homeless wanderer. A killer.
A monster.
“No,” he whispered. “I am not a monster.” If nothing else came of his dream, he would take Rezo’s words away with him: He would not become a monster inside to match his…He censored his own thoughts to “altered appearance outside.”
He opened his eyes to follow Amelia’s progress around the dance floor. He found himself wanting to see her, to revel in his discovery of her as a woman and delight in the confidence with which she carried herself, a self-assured, out-going person who loved her friends well and with all her heart.
Only to find that someone else was regarding the Princess as that—and more.
Anger, bright and dark, hot and cold all at the same time flared inside him. How dare he? Zelgadis snarled. His vision went red as he watched Coyote put his arms around Amelia’s waist and pull her close. His body tensed as he readied himself to lunge out of his hiding place. There was no need to hide! He was a welcome visitor here! He wore Amelia’s bracelet as an open invitation on his wrist; she was right there, for Ceiphied’s sake!
And yet…something stopped him. The crowd surged and they disappeared from his view again. Pausing, he waited for the press of people to shift again, to reveal the two of them. This time he would go to them and put a stop to Coyote’s inappropriate attentions to the little Princess.
The musicians drew the number they were playing to a close and fell silent. The crowd stopped and turned to applaud. Searching desperately for Amelia, he couldn’t see her anywhere. Then he spotted Coyote across the room—alone. Quitting his hiding place, he headed for the black-haired man, ready to commit murder if he’d hurt Amelia in any way.
He never made it. As he stepped into the crowd, someone pushed past him without seeing. It took him several moments to realize that it had been Amelia. Turning to stare at her disappearing back, he wondered what had affected her so badly that she hadn’t even noticed he was there. He spun around to seek out Coyote in the crowd, but a moment of searching revealed that the other man had disappeared again.
“Amelia!” he shouted as he twisted and raced after her into the gardens. Just as he reached the head of the stairs, he saw her dart out of the darkened hedges and through the gate that led to the Temple. Racing down the steps, he hared after her.
The night took on a surreal quality as he trotted along the raked path to Ceiphied’s Temple. Already off-balance by the more than passing resemblance to the events in his dream, following this path to the Temple had his heart thundering with dread.
“Oh, come on, Zelgadis,” he muttered under his breath as he made the final turning and came to the steps that led up to the Temple doors. They stood open as if someone had just recently pulled them open and gone inside. “It’s not as if you’re going to find her lying dead in there,” he added as he climbed the low flight of wide steps up to the doors. “Right?” he repeated to himself, as if seeking reassurance. Unable to provide it, he put his hand on the door and pushed it open and stepped into the quiet darkness within.
* * *
Amelia reached up and pulled the crown off her head and dropped it absently on a pew as she proceeded up the aisle towards the alter. She was still breathing hard and feeling flushed from her encounter with Coyote. Pressing her fingers against her cheeks, she sank down onto her knees on the low alter steps, letting her red skirts spill around her on the white marble. What had happened? What had Coyote done to her?
Shaking her head, she realized it wasn’t so much Coyote’s attentions that had affected her, though her reaction to him was disturbing enough. It was her vision of Zelgadis in the desert and him approaching her that had left her truly breathless.
“Why isn’t he here?” she asked the darkness in front of her. Something wet slid down one cheek. “What am I going to do if he never comes?” Feeling helpless, she put her head down on her folded arms and let the confused emotions she was feeling right now come out as she sobbed quietly in the dark.
Slayers copyright 1991-2000 by Hajime Kanzaka/Rui Araizumi/Kadokawa Shoten/TV
TOKYO/SOFTX/Marubeni.
Story and original characters copyright Wendy W Lee