Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Drown in the Sunset ❯ Serpentine Silk Tresses ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter Two: Serpentine Silk Tresses

 

Disclaimer: Time has passed and sadly, nothing has changed. I still don't own Tenkuu no Escaflowne. My heart is broken but my creativity refuses to waver. Enjoy this next chapter!

 

They're all dead. My name is Jajuka. I am a soldier under your command. The only one. The only one. A pale silver-haired boy gazed up at the two moons in the sky, overcome by fatigue from the battle as well as filled with sadness and a very strong sense of emptiness as he contemplated Jajuka's words to him when he had awakened from a long, dreamless slumber, it seems. He was standing outside his tent in the Zaibach army camp. The others had long gone to sleep, to get whatever rest they could in the long, tedious night. But though he had tried, his mind would not let him rest. Instead, he had decided to just stand out here and cherish the silence. The air was chilly but he could not feel the draft. His mind and his soul were focused on other things. Morbid and mortifying things.

He frowned. How annoying, there are no campfires lit around here. In this darkness, everything seems so cold and so… so dead. But there is a peace in dying, in escaping from all this madness and finally just drowning into nothingness. He shook his head. “I should stop allowing myself to think about such things. There is still so much to do, so many battles waiting ahead. This war is far from over no matter how confident those idiotic generals are about victory. Nothing is certain in a battlefield. They ought to know that,” he muttered.

 

But where are you, my Dragonslayers? He fixed his eyes on the starlit sky. Probably you're all up there watching down on me. Or you're burning in hell. Either way you're all lost to me forever. Damn it. Don't leave me alone. A vision of a weeping child in a dungeon. Sunlight filters weakly through a high window. The child weeps. Don't leave me alone. Don't leave me alone! Dilandau gasped. His headaches and these strange visions keep getting worse and worse. Sometimes, these haunting images leave him unconscious and lost, unable to remember what he was doing for certain periods of time. He clutched his forehead, simultaneously feeling the cold metal of his diadem. Beads of sweat were forming on his face. He shook violently. “Damn it!” he cried out with difficulty. “This pain, it consumes me like a disease and I can do nothing to abate it. Damn. Damn!” He was close to screaming but somehow he restrained himself.

 

After a few moments, the fit passed. He leaned against one of the trees in the forest for support. He was breathing deeply with wide eyes and his heart beating wildly. I have got to stop having these fits, the pain is too intense, he thought, I may not die in battle however internal conflicts such as these will be the death of me. Such an irony. He smiled faintly. To be invincible to others and yet be defeated by my own frailties. He gave a light chuckle and seemed to be back to normal. This wouldn't have to be so painful if he didn't feel so alone. Indeed, Jajuka was there at his command to do his bidding, but something in him felt so incomplete, so inadequate. And so alone. Empty. Gatti, Guimel, Migel, Dalet, he chanted in his head, at the same time imagining their faces, with idiotic looks of devotion and stupid little smiles. But then, those smiles, those faces, he would never see them again. Viole, Chesta, Ferdon.. they were all gone. And what of his partner, his constant companion and one confidante, Rhonas. Rhonas Eiren.

 

“Where is Rhonas Eiren?” he had asked Jajuka several days before. “The last I saw of her was on the floating fortress Vione. Where is she? And where is the Vione?” He demanded the beast man earnestly. “The Vione and all its occupants have been destroyed and it has sunk in the sea near Asturia, my lord,” the man had replied calmly. “What?” Dilandau was appalled. How could this be? And that meant Rhonas was..? No, she wouldn't die such a pathetic death. Not her.

 

She was different. She couldn't have perished. Rhonas wasn't like any of his Dragonslayers, not as incompetent. Besides, the other day, the events of which until now he was not certain of, he had awakened all of a sudden wearing a woman's clothing. He had been in a graveyard of some sort and Allen Schezar was there, along with one of the princesses of Asturia. He didn't remember which because he was so confused and had cried out for Jajuka immediately. However, he had felt something. Call it a hunch but a part of him somehow knew that Rhonas Eiren was alive and was close by at that moment. If Jajuka had not whisked him away so quickly, he might have found out where Rhonas was. But he couldn't blame the beast man. In fact, he was grateful that he was taken back to more familiar surroundings. Dilandau Albatou simply could not tolerate his condition of periodically blacking out and waking up with no memory of what he done and where he had been.

But that feeling was enough to confirm his idea. Rhonas Eiren was alive. I know you're out there, he thought. And I'm going to find you, I know you're waiting, our agreement still holds so don't you dare die on me until I keep my end, don't you dare, Rhonas.

 

 

Somewhere in Asturia, a raven haired barmaid also looked up at the starlit night, gazing with intensity. Her crimson eyes shone as she drank in the moonlight. The moment was brief however as she quickly pulled the hood of her brown cloak over her head. She ran swiftly through the dark alleyway and through an intricate system of small, concealed roads until she got to the main harbor of Palas. There, finding a safe and secure spot, she cooed softly to the water. After a few moments, ripples gently disturbed the sea's calm surface and a large, scaly ebony head surfaced, one with searing golden eyes. It lifted itself slowly until it faced the cloaked stranger.

 

“Good evening, dear one,” the cloaked figure whispered almost inaudibly. “I've come once again to try and reciprocate what you've done for me. Here is another small payment of my debt.” Having said this, she tossed a couple of vials filled with a red liquid that glinted in the moonlight into the sea which were caught ably by the creature in its cavernous mouth. It gave a short and seething glance at its benefactor before its head submerged and it slithered away into the distance.

 

The girl stood silently watching it for a brief moment before disappearing into the darkness. The alleyways welcomed her and once again swallowed her figure into nothingness.

 

 

“Darn it, there's simply no sign of her in here,” Dryden cried with exasperation as he, Allen and Folken looked through the last of the prison cells. “Your enigmatic archive was clearly not captured or identified as an occupant of your floating fortress”

 

“Surely, you were not lying to us about her, were you, Lord Folken,” Allen demanded with a hint of threat in his voice.

 

“No, indeed, Sir Allen. If she isn't here, then, the next logical conclusion would be for her to be somewhere in Palas. After all, her corpse was not found on the remnants of the Vione which we had recovered recently,” Folken replied coolly. The two looked at him quizzically. “I am well aware that there are other elements that may have interfered in order that the corpse would not be found on the Vione however, even if there is no solid proof that she is still alive, there is no evidence either that she is dead, is there?”

 

“You do have a point, you know,” Dryden conceded, “But the question now is where to begin to look. Palas, as you know, is a very large city with thousands of places to hide. From your description, aside from her red eyes, she seems to have a really commonplace appearance, like that of any Asturian and therefore could easily blend in a crowd without so much as being noticed.”

 

“That is true and I certainly don't want to waste all my time on a futile search,” Allen added, “If you aren't forgetting, Lord Folken, we are in the midst of war, what would most likely be the first and only great war in Gaea. As a knight and fighter of Asturia, how can I abandon my duties in order to go on some wild goose chase after some stranger whom we are not certain is alive anyway.”

“What you say is true, Sir Allen,” Folken nodded in assent, “but similarly, do not forget that this entire pursuit is also for your sake, in order that you learn the truth about your sister. It is not as futile as you suppose.”

 

At this Allen was silent. He's right but is this all worth it, he thought, what am I saying? Celena is worth everything. I must know what really happened to her.

 

Breaking the silence, Dryden offered, “Alright, alright, how about we go about it this way? The main battles have not really begun so you won't be called onto the battlefield very soon, Allen so that leaves us with some time. Let's give it two days starting tomorrow. If at the end of that time, our efforts yield nothing, then we abandon the search altogether. However,” and at this a sly look came into the young merchant's eyes, “if we do find something, than you might as well postpone your departure as long as it takes for us to get toe the bottom of this.”

 

“I, for one, agree with this proposition, wouldn't you, Sir Allen?” Folken said.

 

“Well, it is worth a try,” replied the Knight Caeli.

 

“Very well. Now, let's get to it. The day is young, my friends and we have no time to lose,” cried an overly enthusiastic Dryden. He walked ahead with a confident gait with the two other men at his tail.

 

Allen sighed and Folken looked at him curiously. “I just wish some of the eagerness of Dryden would rub off on me, I must say, I'm quite exhausted,” Allen said. “Then maybe it would be wise for you to take a rest, we can call you again when there are developments,” Folken suggested.

 

“No,” Allen was determined, “this is for my sister, and I must go through with it to the very end, no matter what.”

 

“I understand.” Exactly what I would do if this was Van. I understand perfectly.

 

 

Princess Millerna strode down the jam-packed streets of the Palas bazaar. She wore a commoner's clothing and was walking without a chaperone. I know that it's inappropriate and I know that this is hardly the time for shopping, but I simply cannot help it, after last night's events, I cannot keep my mind of what Lord Folken had recounted, she thought to herself. She passed the numerous stalls with nary a glance at the manifold wares being displayed. She inwardly reprimanded herself to be enjoying such a pleasure while many of her countrymen lay wounded in makeshift evacuation centers, most needing medical attention. Well, she reasoned to herself, that was the whole reason she brought a basket with her. It was to buy medicines. In the Asturian bazaars, merchants from all corners of Gaea came to trade and sell their wares. Most of the items were exotic and rare and could only be found on particular areas of that world that were hard to get to. Millerna intended to discover if some of the merchants in this bazaar had any medicinal plants and herbs that may help her perform her medical duties more efficiently. She had read about a number of these healing herbs from medical journals and she walked down the busy streets in search of them among the many stalls. It was difficult to restrain her desire to stop at stalls to shop for trinkets which fascinated her but she was resolute. Besides, at least being at a bazaar again after so long. It made life regain some semblance of normalcy again. Even in the midst of all the fighting and the warfare, the bazaar looked the same, as it always had. This was a small comfort. She sighed and continued on her way. This was some sort of release from the rigidity of palace life and the constant fog of fear and apprehension they all lived beneath during these troubled times. She hoped she could find respite in this.

 

“Thingamajigs from the Dark Continent!”

 

“Fine jewelry from the great mountains!”

 

“Armor, durable armor and weapons from Basram!”

 

“Come over here, here, and you will find the finest products of Daedalus!”

 

“Ornaments and charms from the Mystic Valley!”

 

“Atlantean footwear! Come and get the best Atlantean footwear, on sale today for a limited offer, over here!”

 

These were the noises heard at the bazaar in Palas. In the pandemonium, you'd wonder how anyone was able to focus on anything without being distracted by the noise and constant hullabaloo as well as being lured by the many vendors who were eager to display their wares. An experienced shopper, Princess Millerna was able to wind her way through the labyrinth of booths and stalls into the less crowded areas of the bazaar. It was a skill she had mastered through constant shopping as a child, exploring the many facets of the place and wondering at all the interesting things each stall held. She smiled. Oh, for such joyous and peaceful days, she yearned for them. Perhaps, she thought with a sigh, after the war is over, things will be back to the way they should be.

 

She continued her stroll quickly, eyeing every booth which displayed plants and herbs. After an hour, as she busily and determinedly bargained for a root with many healing properties with an old beast man, something caught her eye. It was a wig of raven hair. It was your everyday ordinary wig of black hair but what had really attracted her was its quality. The hair was black to be sure but it was beautiful, hauntingly so and the locks were circuitous. She hurriedly concluded her deal with the herb vendor and went across to the wig booth. The table held an assortment of colored wigs of various lengths and thicknesses. But it was the black one which she held. The tresses were silky and thick with a gleam that seemed to give it a certain mystique. It was then that she suddenly remembered Folken's words. A girl the same age as Princess Millerna, slightly taller with silken, serpentine ebony tresses that reach her waist… That was it! She instantly felt that this hair came from Rhonas Eiren. How she knew she could not explain but the feeling was so great that she was absolutely certain of it.

 

“Say, miss, I see you are interested in that one,” said the wig merchant, who was a horsy looking fellow with a large built. “Many have noticed that one because of its vivid color and enigmatic aura. And I've also gotten a few hefty offers for it. Think you can match them?” he said with a sly toothy grin.

 

“Sir, where did you get hair of such quality?” Millerna asked politely, still not letting go of the wig.

 

“Why, the owner sold it to me, of course,” he replied. “A very lovely creature she was with fiery red eyes. Her right arm was covered up for some odd reason. And she didn't look too cheery unlike you, Miss.”

 

“Well, do you know where she is now?”

 

“Hmmm….” With this he bowed low and spoke in a hushed tone. “from what I hear, she works at one of those taverns at Tartarus Alley. Not a place for a respectable young woman such as yourself, I can tell you that.”

 

“Thank you so much for the information,” Millerna replied gladly, she was much too excited on her find to notice the gravity of his tone. She brought out a pouch with the insignia of the Royal House of Asturia and counted some coins. “I'll take it. How much?”

 

 

“Phew! I don't think I can ever look at another black-haired girl today,” Dryden sighed. “Are you positive that none of the dozens of girls we've seen is your enigmatic Rhonas Eiren, Lord Folken?”

 

“I'm afraid so, Dryden,” Folken sighed. “I never thought this quest would be so tedious.”

 

“You started it,” Allen said, “therefore you must go through with it to the end, am I not correct?”

 

Folken gave a smile at this. “You're perfectly right, Sir Allen.”

 

The trio walked towards where Allen's ship the crusade was docked at the harbor. They intended to rest there for a while and continue their search after lunch. Gaddes came up to meet them.

 

“Commander,” he jovially greeted Allen, “what's the buzz? Need any assistance in whatever you're doing?”

 

“No thanks, Gaddes, I think we're good,” Allen replied politely. “But we would want some chairs to sit on to rest for a while.”

 

“Certainly,” and Gaddes hollered, “Alright you dirtbags, you heard the commander, get out some chairs.” At this, some members of the crew rushed about to bring out some comfortable seats for the three other men.

 

Allen, Folken and Dryden sat there for a few minutes in companionable silence, each reflecting on their predicament. It was clear that they had found no leads and no clues to the existence or death of Rhonas Eiren. They didn't know her location either. Folken was running out of ideas of where she could possibly hide while Allen and Dryden seemed to be running out of patience. The two Asturians were beginning to doubt the words of the former Zaibach Strategos. The tension grew.

 

However, the nervous atmosphere was shattered by the arrival of another person. From the distance, the three men saw a familiar figure running towards them. Princess Millerna looked extremely excited as she sprinted to them. She was carrying a large basket filled with herbs and spices of various kinds and when she reached them, she paused to pant vigorously because of the great exertion of effort. Her brow was lined with sweat and she looked a bit fatigued but her face shone with an enthusiasm that Allen had recognized as the excitement she often felt when seeing him arrive from long journeys or from Castelo. Someone had brought another chair for her as she stopped to collect herself. The three men waited politely for her to be able to speak.

 

“Oh Allen, Dryden, Lord Folken!” she cried in one breath, “I have wonderful, wonderful news! I believe I might have discovered the whereabouts of our missing person!”

 

With having said this, she brought something out from her basket. It was a wig of black hair. In an instant Folken recognized that hair. “Rhonas Eiren's hair!” he cried. “Where did you find it?”

 

“Would you believe at the bazaar? And added to that, I asked the merchant where the girl who had sold him the hair was and he gave the location. He was also able to match Lord Folken's description of her. Long black hair, well, not anymore, red eyes, hauntingly beautiful and with a gloomy countenance.”

 

“That's wonderful, Princess Millerna,” Allen said gleefully.

 

“You are certainly one-of-a-kind, my princess,” Dryden praised.

 

“Indeed, this is a magnificent find,” Folken said, “and you mentioned her whereabouts.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Millerna added, “he said she was working as a tavern maid or something at Tartarus Alley. Although I've never heard of such a place before, the merchant said something like a respectable girl like me shouldn't be roaming around such a place, I wonder why.”

 

Allen and Dryden looked at one another with grave expressions. Folken seemed to catch their drift. “He's right princess,” Allen explained, “Tartarus Alley is certainly not a place where any respectable person would be expected to roam around. It is a haven of thieves and drunkards, petty crooks and whores and the other basest forms of human existence.”

 

“Indeed,” Dryden confirmed, “my father, being as he is, has done some business there and I pretty much know my way around there. I can tell you this though; it is not a pleasant place. It's dark and menacing and you have to watch your back constantly. No one dares go there at night, most especially. But it's just as dangerous during the day. You could get robbed in broad daylight and no one around would help you.”

 

Millerna's eyes widened considerably and she had a look of complete horror on her face. “How horrible!” she cried innocently, “But why would Rhonas Eiren hide in a nasty place like that?”

 

“That I can answer easily,” offered Folken, “in such a place, no one would dare look for her. No one would care if she was from Zaibach or not as all the people there are criminals and hoodlums anyway. If she wanted to be well hidden, Tartarus Alley seems like the perfect place.”

 

“But it must be very dangerous there, especially for a woman, I would imagine,” Millerna said worriedly, “How could she have chosen such a place where she very well might have been molested, or killed?”

 

“If she is anything like her friend Dilandau,” Allen replied for Folken, “I think she'll manage.”

 

“True,” Folken nodded, “she is perfectly capable of defending herself and striking fear into the hearts of even the hardiest of opponents. If anything good comes out of being part of the Zaibach army, I would say it was military prowess. Dilandau and Rhonas Eiren are both at the top of the class in that aspect.”

 

“At last, we're getting somewhere,” Dryden cried with energy. “So boys, are we going to a trip down Tartarus Alley now?”

 

“It would seem, Dryden, that you would be the perfect tour guide for such an excursion,” Allen said with just a hint of mockery in his voice. That bit of sarcasm was ignored by the former.

 

“You are correct, Sir Knight,” replied the merchant, by no means bothered, “but first, I suggest we get you two into commoner's clothing so as not to be conspicuous in the taverns. I would hardly think a Knight Caeli would be a welcome sight to the denizens of the underworld.”

 

Immediately, Gaddes was sent to bring some common vestments for Folken and Allen. Princess Millerna, much to her dismay, was not allowed to join the little trip. “It's much too dangerous, Princess,” Allen had advised. “And besides, your people need you. The wounded need special care.” At this, she was convinced and she returned to the castle. In a few minutes, Allen and Folken were dressed up as common Asturians. A brown tunic had covered Folken's armor and Allen was wearing a loose gray shirt and pair of pants as opposed to his usual puff-sleeved knight's uniform. With the preparations complete, they went on their way.

 

The three men traversed the main streets of Palas until they reached a deeper part of town with a labyrinthine series of alleys winding this way and that. They were lucky that Dryden knew his way around because the other two would never know how to escape such an intricate maze if they were forced to. After seemingly passing through hundreds of small paths, they reached a large alley bustling with activity and noise. The place was pungent and squalid with beggars in rags clawing at their feet and a host of less-than-respectable looking fellows either standing around or walking with hunched shoulders. A lot of screaming and shouting was heard. Broken bottles of wine were being tossed about and the air was polluted by the myriad of smells ranging from black smoke from the chimneys of the taverns, smoke from the pipes of irate, gruff ruffians and the many “fragrances” of women's perfumes. Allen, Dryden and Folken, however, were able to wind their way bearably, tolerating all these hazardous elements with surprising fortitude. It may stink but it's nothing to the smell of rotting corpses on the battlefield, Allen thought. Folken, who had an assortment of pets and strays in his former laboratory had grown immune to such odors. Dopplegangers certainly smelled worse.

There was only one tavern that seemed to be doing business. The others were just a bunch of dilapidated buildings where criminals lounged about and assassins waited for customers. The tavern was called “Cavern of Pleasures” and the name itself already brought to mind a hundred negative connotations. They entered it and found a table. The three ordered some ale and they interrogated their gruff-looking waitress - who at least seemed to be a woman, but in this place, one could never be sure - about a raven-haired girl.

 

Dryden asked, “Might you know a girl about this high - he indicated - with short black hair, red eyes and with her right arm covered? We hear that she's working here.”

 

The gray-haired hag seemed to think for a moment, scratching her lice-filled head with an old claw. She then proceeded to holler at one of her companions, a buxom woman with a mess of red hair and an ugly face. The words were almost incomprehensible as the languages in this hell-hole had fused together forming an indistinguishable system of noises and grunts that only a denizen of Tartarus Alley would significantly understand.

 

The redhead approached their table. “Sorry `bout that misters,” she said with a smile that showed a line of yellowed teeth, “Grizelda don't really understand these sort o' things.” She motioned towards the other waitress. “Anyways, were you's looking for a black haired girl, you say?”

 

Dryden confirmed her information. “Well, you must be talking about Marin.”

 

“Marin?”

 

“She works here at nights as a barmaid and does a little extra to earn her keep though I'm not supposed to say what that other thing is, it's kind of, well, a secret.”

 

The men were quite shocked when they heard this. A particular idea came to them of what an extra “job” the girl could be engaged in and they felt sickened and saddened by the thought. The waitress looked at their expressions and laughed heartily.

 

“It's not what you're all thinking, misters, the whore house is down to the other side of the alley. This ere's Morella's place. She don't tolerate that kind of activity. She only lives to perform and give pleasure to her audience.”

 

Folken heaved a sigh of relief. For a second there, he had thought that Rhonas Eiren, or Marin had entered a life of even more misery. He couldn't believe she was capable of that.

 

“Barcel! What are you doing lazing around? Do you work, girl!” a shout was heard from the other side of the room where there was a wooden staircase. Another hefty woman with a prominent chest and dressed in skimpy, shiny clothes stood there. She had a large mole on her left cheek, very thick make up on and was smoking a cigarette. Her brown hair was arranged in an ornate manner with a couple of bright colored feathers and shiny clips in it. This creatures seemed to be the owner of the tavern.

 

“I'm really sorry, Madame Morella,” the waitress had said humbly, “but these `ere gentlemen were asking about Marin.”

 

“Enough of your excuses and get back to work!”

 

“Yes'm, right away!” and the waitress scampered of to serve the people at the other tables.

 

Morella seemed to notice the three men Barcel was talking to. They were all young and handsome, the blond one the most and she walked over to their table in a flirtatious manner. Her dress was much too short giving her an excuse to flaunt her long legs. “Well, well,” she said smoothly, “what brings three good-looking fellows such as you to my humble tavern?”

 

All three were quite shocked at the attention, Allen the most, but Dryden collected himself quickly and answered, “We're looking for a black-haired girl called Marin.”

 

“Oh,” Morella said, a bit disappointed, “she's not here right now. She will be a little later so stick around. Besides, there's a great show on tonight starring yours truly, it would really be nice to have a bunch of handsome young men as an audience for a change instead of these scumbags.”

 

Allen opened his mouth to protest but she was too fast for him. “And I won't take no for an answer, come on, do a girl a favor,” she winked and walked back up the stairs.

 

“Just great,” Allen said. “It looks like we don't have any choice, Sir Allen,” Folken said coolly, “anyway; the effort won't be wasted if we find the girl during the show.”

 

“I wonder what kind of show this is going to be,” Dryden muttered, “this place was never much of a theatrical area.”

 

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see,” Folken said.