InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Darkangel ❯ Tale-Telling ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

AN: Thank you for the people who reviewed. I really appreciate it. ^^

Oh, and yes, I know Kagome has blue-gray eyes [or whatever color they are] and are not green. But it's important that she has green eyes in this story, so yeah.

Duke of Spades - Well, since their souls been sucked out and all, I guess they'd dry up pretty quickly…

Dark Dragon of the Seven Hells - So far, I don't know where to put Shippo. I think he might have to sit out in the sidelines for this story…well, at least until I find somewhere to put him in.

Tinuviel - ::scratches head:: Self insertion?…Um…actually this isn't a self - insertion…it just that I've grown attached to the name "Renko" so yeah…Really, if this was a self - insertion…I wouldn't let myself turn into a wraith. ^^

* * *

"They would've killed you if they could."

"I know."

"Then why? Why did you go up?"

"They needed me..."

The Darkangel

By: Renko-chan

Chapter 4

* * *

Learning to use the spindle proved long and difficult. Kagome would spend hours in her chamber sitting with the spindle. With no materials to work with, she would twist it like she did with the ones at home. But instead of producing thread, the spindle would just spin like a top and then fall over with clear and heavy click. No matter how hard she tried, Kagome could not figure out how to work it. Slowly, the days passed.

The wraiths were, of course, no help. As she promised, Kagome would come to visit often. But they were so horribly thin and dreary. They constantly complained of the weight of their coarse, drab garments that Kagome could only stay with them no longer than an hour at a time.

She also visited the gargoyles, but she was careful never to approach close enough to be stratched or bitten. She brought them fish and mushrooms that she had gathered in the caves. They looked so starved and their eyes were filled with such pain that she couldn't help but feel sorry for them. After visiting them several times, the gargoyles started to anticipate her visits. They'd yap and yelp the moment they heard her steps on the tower stairs. Gradually, as the days passed, they grew less bony, even sleek. Their eyes lost their wild glaze, and they ceased to howl and shriek at nights. Thanks to that, Kagome lost the bags that were under her eyes.

Then the day came when Kagome discovered how to work the spindle. She was sitting out in the garden, on the ground, leaning on the trunk of the massive cherry blossom tree; it became her favorite place to hang about next to the caves. She had been practicing with the spindle, trying for hours to cajole it into producing thread. This it stubbornly refused to do so.

Kagome let out a frustrated sigh and repeatedly told herself that calling it stupid wasn't going to make it produce thread. Slowly, as she went through the motions of spinning, of course without thread, she fell into a kind of daydream. She remembered her first spinning lesson when she was four years old, in the spinning room among the other women, spinning their white wool with absentminded ease.

Kaede had put the ram's horn spindle into her hands, shown her how to draw, and twist back the wether's wool into the beginnings of a thread. She showed Kagome how to wrap it around the base and secure it at the topnotch in the shaft, then let the spindle fall and turn while she drew the wool in thin tufts through her fingers and let them twist away as the spool of the ram's horn dropped down slowly. Kagome smiled. It was one of the few things that she could actually do well and do it better than Renko could. It seemed like forever until it touched the ground with a click and fell over.

But the click was real. The sound Kagome had heard was real! It wasn't the soft click of old bone on hard wood, but the bright clink of gold on stone. She looked down, and there at her feet lay the spindle, still turning idly, with a coarse white thread twisting up from the shaft. Quickly, before she could lose the knack, Kagome snatched up the spindle, wound the thread, and let the golden spool drop. The thread did no break but continued to form, through it was thick and ragged as a gasp.

Kagome held the thread as it drooped through her fingers. "Amazing..." she whispered and exclaimed, "Yes!" Then, she fell back against the trunk in relief.

After that, she took the spindle with her when she visited the wraiths, and spun there. At first, she could only find pity to spin for them - a coarse, dull thread like the garments they wore. After a few hours in the wraiths' company, when she couldn't stand them any longer, the thread sometimes turned to woolly loathing, sticky and stinging as a bruised nettle stem. Then she would leave them and go down to the caves to bathe in the warm river or talk to Myouga. After a while, she would go back to the wraiths and take up the spindle again, twisting a thick thread of coarse, dull pity out of the air as the days passed.

Then one day, it all changed. The wraiths had become familiar to her now. Though their bodies were even thinner than when she had first seen them, their pitifully dull wits actually seemed to have improved slightly. Bits of memory would come to them, but when Kagome pressed them, none were often able to distinguish between glimpses of their own able past lives and snatches recounted by a sister wraith. Kagome still could not determine which of them was Renko.

Gradually, though, she was starting to tolerate the whinny whispers of her charges (despite the vampyre's word, they weren't really mistresses), their nagging insistence that the thread she was spinning was too heavy and coarse. She had run out of loathing, and though they were painfully eager for attention, she tried not to pity them. One day, while she sat spinning, she noticed that the thread passing through her fingers was growing thinner and finer; then the coarseness went out of it completely of a sudden, and she realized she was spinning patience now - and love followed fast behind.

An ounce of pity had spun only a skein of thread, and loathing even less. A drop of charity made the thread so fine and long that she had not yet reached the end of it. Whereas the spinning of pity and loathing exhausted her after only a few hours' work, charity and patience became the easiest spinning she had ever done. Soon she was weaving kimonos for the wraiths on an old hand loom she had found abandoned in one corner of a cellar. The work was light and did not tire her a bit.

Once, after several days had passed, she was looking through the window when she saw the darkangel standing on the ramparts of a balcony that jutted from the castle overlooking the garden. She stopped to look at him. It was the first time she had seen him in the longest of times. The icarus stood gazing out over the plain. His wings sloped down from his shoulders like a thick cape of black velvet that swallowed light of the sun and gave none of it back in sheen. His face was fair as limestone, perfectly immobile - as though chiseled of stone - but his colorless eyes roved aimlessly over the barren landscape.

He turned suddenly and saw her. Startled, Kagome drew back from the window, but he called her - not by name; but come to think of it, she didn't think she gave it to him: "Hey, you, girl." She went out hesitantly to him. He was looking at her straight on so she had no strength to disobey him. He turned away from her and gazed again over the plain. "Someone's been feeding my gargoyles," he said. "Was it you?"

"Yes," she answered softly.

"I didn't say you could," he said shortly, still looking over the land.

"I know, my lord."

"Then, why?" demanded the vampyre, still not looking at her, "why did you do it?"

"They were hungry, my lord," said Kagome, her voice still soft. He looked at her, and seeing the cold beauty of his face again, Kagome felt weak.

"I like them lean," he said. "They make better watchdogs, then."

It wasn't until he looked away that Kagome found her tongue. "Their eyes will be sharper and their ears keener if they aren't distracted by hunger," she began.

"Are you arguing with me?" snapped the icarus.

"No, my lord," she said softly.

The vampyre drummed the fingers of one perfect white hand on the battlements. "Tell me, how did you manage not to be killed by them?"

"Their chains aren't long enough to let them come near me if I stand against the stair."

The darkangel nodded, then turned to glance at her over one night-winged shoulder. "Did you know this before you went up?"

She shook her head, for she could not speak while he had his eyes on her.

"Then why did you go up?" he asked her.

"They needed someone to feed them," she stammered as his eyes wandered.

"They would've killed if they could."

"I know."

"Then why?" he asked, with real curiousity. "Why did you go up?"

"They needed me..."

The darkangel shook his head and then laughed. "I guess I should kill you," he said idly, "I did forbid you to go up on the tower - but I won't. You're interesting. Not one of my servants were ever brave enough to go up to the gargoyles before, more or less disobey me." He shook his head again, with a slight frown on his face. "Strange. You don't look brave."

He eyed her as if he expected some answer. She looked away. "I'm not brave."

He laughed again. "I guess not. Perhaps you're just stupid. Well, it doesn't matter. From now on, you'll feed my gargoyles as well as attend my wives."

He paused, expecting another reply. Kagome murmured dryly, with a strained voice, "You honor me, my lord."

"But keep them lean," he snapped with sudden severity. "If I ever find them growing fat and lazy, I'll feed you to them."

With that he started to leave. Once his back was to her, Kagome scowled. She did a favor for him, risking her life in the processs, and he only snapped more orders at her in return. He was arrogant and pompous to her and it irked her.

Confident that he could not see her face, Kagome scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue at him - since that was all she could really do. She immediately withdrewed when she saw him stop in his steps. He turned his head and looked at her at the corner of his eyes.

"I suggest you keep that tongue to yourself, wench," he said coldly, "or you'll soon find yourself without one." He strode away and disappeared into the castle. Kagome turned away and leaned against the wall, sliding down until she touched the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself as she waited for her strength to return and her heart to steady. At that moment, she didn't like him at all. Not one bit at all.

* * *

As the day wore on, Kagome noticed the vampyre's growing restlessness as he paced the castle, muttering.

"He's growing hungry," said the wraiths; their wits gradually were sharpening. Eight of them had new kimonos.

"Half the year's up," the duarough told her, "and in a few months' times, he'll fly in search of another bride." Kagome often caught glimspes of him, prowling through the keep.

Sometimes he caught the little silver bats that flew about the towers after dark in search of tiny moths and millers; the icarus caught the bats and broke their wings. Sometimes, Kagome would come upon them starved to death on the walks about the keep, or fluttering helplessly across the floor of some empty castle room.

One day in the garden she saw him and cupped in his hands he held some tiny, struggling creature. A bat, she realized. It was a bat. He only broken one of its wings and was tossing it into the air to watch it flutter back to the ground in a frantic sprial. Kagome could just make out its high, thin twittering on the very limit of her hearing. Before she could think, she found herself running forward.

"Stop," she cried out. "Stop!"

The vampyre ignored her. The bat struck the cobbles of the walk and ceased to move. The icarus nudged it tentatively with one bare foot, then picked it up by its crumpled wings and shook it. The bat didn't stir.

"Don't," she cried. "Please don't throw it up again. It's stunned.You'll kill it..."

The vampyre laid the bat down on the garden wall long enough to look at her. Her voice trailed away and died. The icarus eyed her for a long moment, with his eyes clear and colorless as quartz, then glanced back at the bat. Its black eyes stared at nothing, glazed. Its mouth hung open a little, its tiny white teeth sharp as rosepricks. Kagome could see the slight, swift rise and fall of its fragile side as it breathed.

The darkangel shrugged. "I'm done with it," he said. "It no longer amuses me." He brushed it off the wall with one swift motion. Kagome closed her eyes and turned away. Minutes passed before she could speak again.

"Why?" she said, not looking at him. "Why do you toture them?"

"For sport," he answered easily. "I'm bored. This castle bores me. My wives bore me. I need some kind of fun."

Kagome opened her eyes. "Did you have to kill it?" She was still unable to face him.

The icarus shrugged again; she could hear the rustle of his dozen wings. "Why not?" he asked. "There're more."

"Do you have to catch them all?" asked Kagome, horrified. "It's so...so cruel."

"Oh, lizards are even better sport than bats," he replied. "You can bait them with moths, then pick their eyes out, or tear out their tongues..."

If he continued, Kagome didn't hear for she had covered her ears with her hands. Even then she could hear the darkangel laugh at her.

"You're even more sport to bait than the lizards," he said when she took her hands away from her ears.

"There are better ways to have fun than tormenting helpless creatures," whispered Kagome.

"Are there?" said the vampyre. Kagome felt her skin shrink as he stepped closer and eyed her. "What do you do for fun?"

Kagome turned quickly away from him and gazed out across the garden so she didn't have to look at him. "When I was young," she said, "when I lived in my village in the foothills, Kaede would tell us tales..."

"Kaede?" said the icarus, drawing back a trace. "Keade?" He pronounced the name as though he found it strange. "Who is this Kaede?"

"My nurse," replied Kagome. "No, Renko's nurse actually..." Her throat tightened at the thought of Renko.

"Tell me a tale," he said abruptly.

Kagome looked at him, surprised. "Now?"

"Yes, now," he said impatiently. His eyes bored into hers like a hawk's. Kagome swallowed and searched her mind for a tale. "Well?"

"Uh, I'll...tell you the tale of the Maiden-Eater," she told him, and began. It was a long story about a kingdom besieged by a dragon and the king's daughter who slew it with the help of a young hero. The vampyre laughed outright when she came to describing the dragon.

"Big as a cottage?" he laughed. "With wings? Obviously, you've never seen a firedrake before. They are twently or thirty times as large, and they don't fly. They swim. Incidentally, they don't spit brimstone; they breathe sulfur and flame." The icarus folded his arms and leaned back, looking down on her, his lips curled in contempt. "No mere mortal could've killed one single-handed."

"But her sword was magic," protested Kagome.

"The dragon would've killed them both long before she could've used it."

Kagome looked at the ground. "You've seen dragons before?"

"Yeah, my mom keeps a pair as pets."

Kagome look at him with surprise. "Your mother?" The word sounded strange from his tongue.

His lips twisted again into a cruel smile. "Of course I have a mother," he said. "How do suppose I came to be?" His tone was amused and had no kindness to it. Kagome dropped her eyes as his look grew farther away. "She's very beautiful, my mom."

"What's her name?" Kagome wanted to know.

"How would I know?" replied the vampyre, affronted. "Great personages such as she don't hand out their names so freely."

"But you're her son," insisted Kagome.

The vampyre looked away suddenly, and for once, his cool assurance flagged. "She'll tell me..." he muttered. "Well, she promised she would - when I'm old enough."

"Is she...like you?" Kagome wondered what sort of being mothered vampyres. His hesitation surprised her.

"You mean a winged icarus?" He started to regain himself and flexed his coal - dark feathers. "Nah, she prefers water to air. She's a lorelei."

"And...she keeps dragons..."

"Yup...but hers don't eat maidens. They eat ships."

"I see..."

He laughed again, the same cruel and careless laugh. "Heh, that tale you told was silly, but amusing enough. Tell me another." His tone had started to take its arrogant edge.

"Um, my lord," Kagome stammered. "I'm...hungry and tired. I spent hours spinning for your...for your wives" - she had almost said "the wraiths" - "and I - "

He held up his hand, silencing her.

"Yeah, yeah. I sometimes forget that you mortals need inordinate amounts of food and sleep. I only need a little." He waved his hand on her to dismiss her. "Go have your food and rest. Then come to the audience hall where you'll tell me more of these tales."

>>>End of Chapter 4

AN: Sorry for taking so long on updates. I'm trying! Really, I am! Come back for Chapter 5!

~Renko-chan