Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ Slayers: Knightfall ❯ Chapter 21 ( Chapter 22 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: tom the mighty 
Anime/Manga: Slayers Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 04.18.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 254 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Slayers Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror / Fantasy / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 04.18.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 254 | Status: Work In Progress
Slayers: Knightfall
Chapter Twenty One
“Leon cridhe toil cuimhnich eagal,
“Pian cridhe toil amhairc rudeigin do caol air,
“Neart daingneach do brigh cum gach ni comhla,”
“What are you singing?” Gourry startled me into realizing that I was, in fact, singing aloud.
“Hmm, I never do that anymore,” I pondered. We, that being myself, Gourry, Valgaav and about three thousand Zephillian refugees where walking towards the Katahto Mountains where Valgaav promised shelter and food. . .for a price.
“Do what? Sing?” Gourry pressed.
“Yeah, not since I was a little girl.” I smiled inwardly at some memories.
“But you were just now.”
“I guess it seemed like the thing to do.”
“What was it? It sounded sad but the tempo was fairly quick.”
“It’s an old Zephillian folk song, sonny,” An old woman who was walking alongside of us explained to Gourry in a honey smoke voice. “Many of our old songs are fast and fun to play, but carry a note of sorrow with them to remind us that nothing lasts in this world. Keeps us grounded so to speak.
“I haven’t heard anyone so much as mumble that melody in quite some time, my lass. Where do you know it?”
“My mom used to sing it whenever my dad went away for a long while, I think it gave her a kind of a strength.” Strength I needed right then and there.
I abandoned two of my closest friends for a band of demons. . . what I am becoming?
“What are the words?” Gourry asked.
“Its in old Zephillian so you wouldn’t understand it.” Everyone in Zephillia is taught the old language. It helps keep our heritage alive and is great for making fun of foreigners without them be any the wiser.
“Can’t you translate it or something? Then sing it?”
I sputtered a laugh. “You don’t want to hear me sing it now! I haven’t really sung in years! Long before I met you in fact. I’d sound horrible and there are too many people around.”
“From what I could hear you’d have a lovely singing voice,” The old woman complemented, egging me on.
“It couldn’t hurt, Lina,” Gourry pushed. “I think it’ll lighten the mood a little.”
“The boy is right, my dear. It would lift the soul of any Zephillian who is away from home, not knowing when they will come back, to hear a familiar fuaim .”
“Come on, lass! Give it a go!” A man, older than me or Gourry but much younger than the old woman goaded.
“I can walk all day with sore feet or no listening to the voice of a pretty young woman.” A younger man sounded off.
. . .Sigh. . .
I shot Gourry a look that said, “I eating your next three dinners for what you started.”.
“All right, you asked for it.” I resigned myself to humiliation and cleared my throat. “I’m singing it in common though, for the sake of my friend here” I let my voice dropped to a conspirical tone. “He’s Elemekian, you see.” Poking fun of our neighboring country to the south was a traditional pastime of any proper son or daughter of Zephillia.
A few chortles and guffaws bursts from the gathering crowd.
“Doesn’t know how to speak properly then, does he?” The older man laughed. “All well, it’ll do for now. Anything to take our minds off the long roads ahead.”
I let the crowd’s snickering at Gourry’s expense die down a bit and then I started. Softly at first, unsure of how my unpracticed voice would go over with my fellow Zephillians, who had a very high regard for traditional music.
A Wounded Heart Will Remember Your Fears,
A Pained Heart Will Look to Lean on Something,
Strength is a Fortress that Holds Everything Together,
Gentleness Cannot be Felt Without Knowing Tears.
I raised my head to gauge their reaction and to my utter amazement they seemed to be transfixed! Confidence building, I cranked up my volume and much of the initial quavering in my voice stopped as I went on.
Tonight. . .Tonight. . .
Towards the Wavering Flame, Amidst the Midnight Blue. . .
The Darkness. . .The Rain. . .Tell me, now,
The Moon . . .the Wind . . . Answer me, now.
The Dreams that Pierce can be Hidden from Sight,
But the Dreams Will Never Disappear,
Strength is Proof that We All Finally Realize,
Gentleness Now is Foolishness that will Soon be a Blight.
Tonight . . .tonight. . .
Towards the Blazing Flames Amidst the Midnight Blue.
The Darkness. . .The Rain. . .Tell me, now,
The Moon . . .the Wind . . . Answer me, now.
Far. . .So Far. . .In the Distance, so far away.
At the End of My Journey, what is there?
Far . . .So far . . .in the distance, far away.
At the end of my journey, what is there?
I finished my impromptu concert to a more than generous applause. I found myself turning as red as the shirt I had on.
“Lina,” Gourry sounded awed. “That was amazing!”
“You really think so?” I sheepishly grinned.
“I really do,” he confirmed. “I never knew you could sing so good.”
The first real bit of happiness found its way to my heart in more than a day thanks to Gourry’s genuine appreciation for my hidden talent.
And to think I was going to somehow deprive him of food. . .
“I think we have something to look forward to around the campfires at night,” someone from the crowd asserted.
“Do I really?” I played coy.
“You betcha!”
“Well, alright, but only if you pay me!” I kidded. Of course I would do it for free, these are my people for Sylpheed’s sake. That, and there was something freeing about music, something I had forgotten. Ever since I found magic, I’ve been using it to vent my frustrations and sorrows, usually causing a great deal more in the process. With singing, I could ease mine and others tensions, unburden my soul if you will. Without the mass casualties Dragon Slaves tend to cause, to boot.
“To think that Lina Inverse, the “Enemy of All Who Live”, could sing like that!” exclaimed a middle aged woman with a gaggle of kids following in her wake.
“Really!? She’s Lina Inverse!? But she’s so young!” A teenaged girl unnecessarily shouted.
“Didn’t she kill the king?” A dubious sounding man who had the bearing of a soldier asked. I don’t know why I payed so much attention to him in particular. It almost seemed to me that he would play a part in this sad tale of mine some day, some how. He wore old, but well maintained steel gauntlets and breastplate. The handle of a decent sized war hammer poked from behind and above his right shoulder.
“Look at her? Does she look like someone who could kill in cold blood?” An unseen voice rang in my defense.
Please let no one answer that.
“Well Bob wasn’t much in brawn, my own little sister probably could’ve took him!” The soldier cracked a smile, fears erased at the masses seeming acceptance of me.
“You got that right, but listen. Anyone with that clear o’ voice cannae be evil. Besides, if she dinnae do it, why’s she putting on o’ show fer us?”
The conversation grew and shrunk and occasionally got heated but I got the feeling that no one was going to be messing with me for supposedly killing the late King. That and my reputation for sneezing destruction on a grand scale probably helped too.
We stopped shortly after nightfall. Bonfires were built from deadwood from a nearby forest. After I was well fed I sang again (This time in the old tongue) for my growing number of groupies. This time it was a song about a soldier finally coming home after a long campaign but finding his loved ones dead and gone. He gets through the pain by focusing on the things he saved by fighting for so long so far away.
The song was supposed to inspire my fellow countrymen to remember what it is they will be fighting for. But my voice started to crack by the end of it but I managed to pull it off. The lyrics just hit too close to home. Zephillian girls are tough. We don’t cry over a song.
I saw the former soldier among the crowd, listening intently, tears just starting to brim in his eyes. He didn’t cry though, he was too disciplined for that as well, though a few of the drunker listeners did. Instead he stood still as he composed himself for a long minute after my song had ended. He then left a little stiffly without a word to his tent which stood not far from the food wagons. I had heard from somebody that he means to guard them from pilferers. I didn’t doubt for a second that he would fail in that self appointed duty.
I wondered if he could guard it from a hungry Lina Inverse?
I never did learn his name, not yet at least.
I glumly stepped into the tent we bought from a merchant who had a few extra and plopped down onto my sleeping roll, not even bothering to undress. It was getting too cold anyways. I just laid there, starring at the ceiling, trying not to think about Zel and Amelia, heck even Naga with her own oddly hurtful, final word of goodbye.
Of course, trying not to think of something inevitably led me to think of it within seconds of promising myself not to think of it.
After not too long Gourry stepped in with arms laden with leftovers from tonight’s rabbit stew, biscuits and forest greens dinner.
“Hey, sleeping already?” he said, putting the food down on a borrowed table that was surrounded by our travel gear and weapons.
“Not really,” I mumbled. “Just wondering what Zel, Amelia and that extraneous other one are doing.”
“Oh,” he simply said, flicking the infuriation switch.
“‘Oh?’” I seethed. “We abandoned our only real friends and all you can say is ‘Oh’?”
“Hey, back down,” Gourry raised his hands up, on the defensive now. “It’s too late to really go back on that now, isn’t it?”
“Are you saying I should forget about them?” I was half ready to choke the guy, even though I knew that Gourry wasn’t as heartless to actually mean such a thing.
“No! No, what I mean is, its too late for regrets. Or rather, we have to make sure that this wasn’t a mistake, that we don’t make any mistakes that would cause Amelia and Zel to stop being our friends.”
“I’m sorry, can’t help it,” I muttered, my anger giving way to depression yet again. “I know I did the right thing, the sign was clear, that I had to follow Valgaav and no one else if I want to set the world straight again. But I can’t stop thinking that I threw something precious away.”
“We’ll see them again, Lina.” Gourry reassured me, draping an arm around me that I almost shrugged off. “We’ll all be happy to see each other again. Nothing will stop that, you’re too good for whatever Ballgrab has planned for you.”
I snickered at Gourry’s latest misnomer and smiled for the first time since dinner.
“You know, no matter what kind of mood I’m in, you always manage to cheer me up with your Gourry-isms.” I drew his mouth in for kiss. It was funny, there was a time when Gourry’s absent mindedness drove me bonkers, often with disastrous consequences.
“Yeah, I’m good like that,” he said after we broke our embrace. He smelled . . .different tonight. It started to make me almost giddy.
“You’re a braggart, but I love you.”
“Only when I’m trying to impress you,” He leaned in close for another kiss. He was breathing hard. My heart started to race and I felt tingly all over. “And, I love you more,” he said as we drew ourselves in ever closer together.
“Oh,” was the only thing I could think to say.
Tom the Mighty’s Mighty Notes
This is probably the fastest I’ve been updating since I started this fic three years ago. Good for me. And good for you, the reader, who doesn’t have to wait as long for an update.
This particular chapter represents what happens when the story takes on a life of its own. Nothing in my plot or notes even hints that I should include Midnight Blue somehow in the story. It just sorta happened, spontaneously. It just seemed to fit the mood of the story and Lina’s current state of mind. Sure, she’s hurting, but she is still looking for hope that tomorrow will bring something better.
Arrgh, translating that song into rough Gaelic was a pain, making it rhyme in English wasn’t much of a chore though.
The implied Lina/Gourry love scene at the end of this chapter came out of nowhere too. I wasn’t expecting that at all when I set about writing this. I think it works well, and after a revision or two, it will work even better.
Anyways, what does the future hold for Lina and Gourry at Valgaav’s mountain stronghold? Did he really set his grudge aside for the sake of his long term goals, what ever they may be? What of the soldier that Lina felt a connection to? What role will he have to play in things to come?
Find out next time in Slayers: Knightfall!
Please review!
Chapter Twenty One
“Leon cridhe toil cuimhnich eagal,
“Pian cridhe toil amhairc rudeigin do caol air,
“Neart daingneach do brigh cum gach ni comhla,”
“What are you singing?” Gourry startled me into realizing that I was, in fact, singing aloud.
“Hmm, I never do that anymore,” I pondered. We, that being myself, Gourry, Valgaav and about three thousand Zephillian refugees where walking towards the Katahto Mountains where Valgaav promised shelter and food. . .for a price.
“Do what? Sing?” Gourry pressed.
“Yeah, not since I was a little girl.” I smiled inwardly at some memories.
“But you were just now.”
“I guess it seemed like the thing to do.”
“What was it? It sounded sad but the tempo was fairly quick.”
“It’s an old Zephillian folk song, sonny,” An old woman who was walking alongside of us explained to Gourry in a honey smoke voice. “Many of our old songs are fast and fun to play, but carry a note of sorrow with them to remind us that nothing lasts in this world. Keeps us grounded so to speak.
“I haven’t heard anyone so much as mumble that melody in quite some time, my lass. Where do you know it?”
“My mom used to sing it whenever my dad went away for a long while, I think it gave her a kind of a strength.” Strength I needed right then and there.
I abandoned two of my closest friends for a band of demons. . . what I am becoming?
“What are the words?” Gourry asked.
“Its in old Zephillian so you wouldn’t understand it.” Everyone in Zephillia is taught the old language. It helps keep our heritage alive and is great for making fun of foreigners without them be any the wiser.
“Can’t you translate it or something? Then sing it?”
I sputtered a laugh. “You don’t want to hear me sing it now! I haven’t really sung in years! Long before I met you in fact. I’d sound horrible and there are too many people around.”
“From what I could hear you’d have a lovely singing voice,” The old woman complemented, egging me on.
“It couldn’t hurt, Lina,” Gourry pushed. “I think it’ll lighten the mood a little.”
“The boy is right, my dear. It would lift the soul of any Zephillian who is away from home, not knowing when they will come back, to hear a familiar fuaim .”
“Come on, lass! Give it a go!” A man, older than me or Gourry but much younger than the old woman goaded.
“I can walk all day with sore feet or no listening to the voice of a pretty young woman.” A younger man sounded off.
. . .Sigh. . .
I shot Gourry a look that said, “I eating your next three dinners for what you started.”.
“All right, you asked for it.” I resigned myself to humiliation and cleared my throat. “I’m singing it in common though, for the sake of my friend here” I let my voice dropped to a conspirical tone. “He’s Elemekian, you see.” Poking fun of our neighboring country to the south was a traditional pastime of any proper son or daughter of Zephillia.
A few chortles and guffaws bursts from the gathering crowd.
“Doesn’t know how to speak properly then, does he?” The older man laughed. “All well, it’ll do for now. Anything to take our minds off the long roads ahead.”
I let the crowd’s snickering at Gourry’s expense die down a bit and then I started. Softly at first, unsure of how my unpracticed voice would go over with my fellow Zephillians, who had a very high regard for traditional music.
A Wounded Heart Will Remember Your Fears,
A Pained Heart Will Look to Lean on Something,
Strength is a Fortress that Holds Everything Together,
Gentleness Cannot be Felt Without Knowing Tears.
I raised my head to gauge their reaction and to my utter amazement they seemed to be transfixed! Confidence building, I cranked up my volume and much of the initial quavering in my voice stopped as I went on.
Tonight. . .Tonight. . .
Towards the Wavering Flame, Amidst the Midnight Blue. . .
The Darkness. . .The Rain. . .Tell me, now,
The Moon . . .the Wind . . . Answer me, now.
The Dreams that Pierce can be Hidden from Sight,
But the Dreams Will Never Disappear,
Strength is Proof that We All Finally Realize,
Gentleness Now is Foolishness that will Soon be a Blight.
Tonight . . .tonight. . .
Towards the Blazing Flames Amidst the Midnight Blue.
The Darkness. . .The Rain. . .Tell me, now,
The Moon . . .the Wind . . . Answer me, now.
Far. . .So Far. . .In the Distance, so far away.
At the End of My Journey, what is there?
Far . . .So far . . .in the distance, far away.
At the end of my journey, what is there?
I finished my impromptu concert to a more than generous applause. I found myself turning as red as the shirt I had on.
“Lina,” Gourry sounded awed. “That was amazing!”
“You really think so?” I sheepishly grinned.
“I really do,” he confirmed. “I never knew you could sing so good.”
The first real bit of happiness found its way to my heart in more than a day thanks to Gourry’s genuine appreciation for my hidden talent.
And to think I was going to somehow deprive him of food. . .
“I think we have something to look forward to around the campfires at night,” someone from the crowd asserted.
“Do I really?” I played coy.
“You betcha!”
“Well, alright, but only if you pay me!” I kidded. Of course I would do it for free, these are my people for Sylpheed’s sake. That, and there was something freeing about music, something I had forgotten. Ever since I found magic, I’ve been using it to vent my frustrations and sorrows, usually causing a great deal more in the process. With singing, I could ease mine and others tensions, unburden my soul if you will. Without the mass casualties Dragon Slaves tend to cause, to boot.
“To think that Lina Inverse, the “Enemy of All Who Live”, could sing like that!” exclaimed a middle aged woman with a gaggle of kids following in her wake.
“Really!? She’s Lina Inverse!? But she’s so young!” A teenaged girl unnecessarily shouted.
“Didn’t she kill the king?” A dubious sounding man who had the bearing of a soldier asked. I don’t know why I payed so much attention to him in particular. It almost seemed to me that he would play a part in this sad tale of mine some day, some how. He wore old, but well maintained steel gauntlets and breastplate. The handle of a decent sized war hammer poked from behind and above his right shoulder.
“Look at her? Does she look like someone who could kill in cold blood?” An unseen voice rang in my defense.
Please let no one answer that.
“Well Bob wasn’t much in brawn, my own little sister probably could’ve took him!” The soldier cracked a smile, fears erased at the masses seeming acceptance of me.
“You got that right, but listen. Anyone with that clear o’ voice cannae be evil. Besides, if she dinnae do it, why’s she putting on o’ show fer us?”
The conversation grew and shrunk and occasionally got heated but I got the feeling that no one was going to be messing with me for supposedly killing the late King. That and my reputation for sneezing destruction on a grand scale probably helped too.
We stopped shortly after nightfall. Bonfires were built from deadwood from a nearby forest. After I was well fed I sang again (This time in the old tongue) for my growing number of groupies. This time it was a song about a soldier finally coming home after a long campaign but finding his loved ones dead and gone. He gets through the pain by focusing on the things he saved by fighting for so long so far away.
The song was supposed to inspire my fellow countrymen to remember what it is they will be fighting for. But my voice started to crack by the end of it but I managed to pull it off. The lyrics just hit too close to home. Zephillian girls are tough. We don’t cry over a song.
I saw the former soldier among the crowd, listening intently, tears just starting to brim in his eyes. He didn’t cry though, he was too disciplined for that as well, though a few of the drunker listeners did. Instead he stood still as he composed himself for a long minute after my song had ended. He then left a little stiffly without a word to his tent which stood not far from the food wagons. I had heard from somebody that he means to guard them from pilferers. I didn’t doubt for a second that he would fail in that self appointed duty.
I wondered if he could guard it from a hungry Lina Inverse?
I never did learn his name, not yet at least.
I glumly stepped into the tent we bought from a merchant who had a few extra and plopped down onto my sleeping roll, not even bothering to undress. It was getting too cold anyways. I just laid there, starring at the ceiling, trying not to think about Zel and Amelia, heck even Naga with her own oddly hurtful, final word of goodbye.
Of course, trying not to think of something inevitably led me to think of it within seconds of promising myself not to think of it.
After not too long Gourry stepped in with arms laden with leftovers from tonight’s rabbit stew, biscuits and forest greens dinner.
“Hey, sleeping already?” he said, putting the food down on a borrowed table that was surrounded by our travel gear and weapons.
“Not really,” I mumbled. “Just wondering what Zel, Amelia and that extraneous other one are doing.”
“Oh,” he simply said, flicking the infuriation switch.
“‘Oh?’” I seethed. “We abandoned our only real friends and all you can say is ‘Oh’?”
“Hey, back down,” Gourry raised his hands up, on the defensive now. “It’s too late to really go back on that now, isn’t it?”
“Are you saying I should forget about them?” I was half ready to choke the guy, even though I knew that Gourry wasn’t as heartless to actually mean such a thing.
“No! No, what I mean is, its too late for regrets. Or rather, we have to make sure that this wasn’t a mistake, that we don’t make any mistakes that would cause Amelia and Zel to stop being our friends.”
“I’m sorry, can’t help it,” I muttered, my anger giving way to depression yet again. “I know I did the right thing, the sign was clear, that I had to follow Valgaav and no one else if I want to set the world straight again. But I can’t stop thinking that I threw something precious away.”
“We’ll see them again, Lina.” Gourry reassured me, draping an arm around me that I almost shrugged off. “We’ll all be happy to see each other again. Nothing will stop that, you’re too good for whatever Ballgrab has planned for you.”
I snickered at Gourry’s latest misnomer and smiled for the first time since dinner.
“You know, no matter what kind of mood I’m in, you always manage to cheer me up with your Gourry-isms.” I drew his mouth in for kiss. It was funny, there was a time when Gourry’s absent mindedness drove me bonkers, often with disastrous consequences.
“Yeah, I’m good like that,” he said after we broke our embrace. He smelled . . .different tonight. It started to make me almost giddy.
“You’re a braggart, but I love you.”
“Only when I’m trying to impress you,” He leaned in close for another kiss. He was breathing hard. My heart started to race and I felt tingly all over. “And, I love you more,” he said as we drew ourselves in ever closer together.
“Oh,” was the only thing I could think to say.
Tom the Mighty’s Mighty Notes
This is probably the fastest I’ve been updating since I started this fic three years ago. Good for me. And good for you, the reader, who doesn’t have to wait as long for an update.
This particular chapter represents what happens when the story takes on a life of its own. Nothing in my plot or notes even hints that I should include Midnight Blue somehow in the story. It just sorta happened, spontaneously. It just seemed to fit the mood of the story and Lina’s current state of mind. Sure, she’s hurting, but she is still looking for hope that tomorrow will bring something better.
Arrgh, translating that song into rough Gaelic was a pain, making it rhyme in English wasn’t much of a chore though.
The implied Lina/Gourry love scene at the end of this chapter came out of nowhere too. I wasn’t expecting that at all when I set about writing this. I think it works well, and after a revision or two, it will work even better.
Anyways, what does the future hold for Lina and Gourry at Valgaav’s mountain stronghold? Did he really set his grudge aside for the sake of his long term goals, what ever they may be? What of the soldier that Lina felt a connection to? What role will he have to play in things to come?
Find out next time in Slayers: Knightfall!
Please review!