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"Ash Tree Cruel "Written By: Asymphototropic
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam wing. Author: Asymphototropic (attracted toward the
light, but never quite arrives there) Rating: NC 17 Warnings: yaoi, violence, AU Summary: Duo is a wanderer, drawn to an ancient
barrow in the hopes of speaking to his master's death soul. Heero
is a guardian servant in this dangerous place. Will the death soul
seeker become a sacrifice on the bloody altar of a cruel cult? Pairings 1x2
"Ash Tree Cruel " Part 10: Jasmine Long Love The servant and the seeker pressed against a towering rock of the celestial ring. Wintry moondrift lit their features, stark and grim. Backs to the wall, faces toward the throng of attackers. The dead Tanist's minions were hesitant bullies. But since the defenders were outnumbered fifty to one, the acolytes of Su girded their guts and commenced their wary assault. The first to draw sufficiently near received the ceremonial dagger in his throat, flung accurately by the sacrificial victim. The boy darted forward, then staggered back, bearing away the knife, and the slain acolyte's sword. "Duo! Be more cautious, can you not?" Heero growled, grabbing him hastily to his side. "At least ten of them believe me to be under the protection of the Moon Goddess. So they are afraid to attack me," the boy grinned, though his lips were blue and his teeth clattered in his head. "Leaving merely ninety to be thy executioners. Excellent odds," Yuy scowled. "What a tint-wit thou art." "Heero Yuy," the boy gasped. "Either thy mother bore thee a twin brother for companion. Or else I am seeing double. And about to swoon." Upon which saying, the seeker collapsed, This appeared to be sufficient sign to the acolytes that the mighty Su once again favored them. Showing their teeth in their painted Death's head faces, the circle drew cautiously nearer to the lone warrior standing in their midst. Clenching tourniquet style as if they could squeeze out his heart's blood without risking their own. "The night being so beauteous cold. I can kill about a dozen of you without breaking a sweat. So come you on," Yuy shouted, moon madness gleaming from his eyes. "Which will be the first to feel the steel bite their vitals?" The ring of attackers tightened. Heero pivoted eagerly, menacing one, then another with his sword's point. Every breath seemed to him likely his last. And he cherished each as it was drawn and spent. Right glad to have known you, Duo. His heart addressed the lifeless cold form folded at his feet. The moon rose higher, clearing away the mist with fierce slashing beams. The acolytes' weapons rose high to execute their deadly sentence. When suddenly the shadowy barrow mound opened a black hell hole in its side. Vomiting up a horde of warriors, screaming their battle cries. Fearsome soldier ghouls, spilling forth, charging the acolytes at the altar. "The Dead! The Fallen Warriors' Ghosts! The Revenants of the Battlefield Barrow are attacking! Fall back. Save yourselves." The Tanist of Su's minions shrieked in terror, and scattering, fled. Heero Yuy chased after them, slashing and stabbing at his enemies with grim delight. As he heard the clash of weaponry nearby, it seemed to him that his newcome allies were rather substantial for ancient barrow spirits. Then he spied his Liege Lord Merquise. That glittering form, flexing sleek muscles, beheading an acolyte with a single swing of his massive battle ax. The painted face seemed puzzled as it flew, landing in a spray of snow crystals. Perhaps the minion wondered why the great god Su had not defended his followers better. Yuy slashed his way to his Commander's side. "My Lord Merquise!" he cried through the battle's confusion. "My strayed thane," the Snowlord grinned wickedly down on him. Then planting the gory ax head in the snow, and leaning casually upon the pommel, Merquise drew his servant against him and saluted him fiercely upon the lips with a searing kiss. "I am exceedingly annoyed at having my kinsman's welcoming celebration interrupted." "Liege Lord. If I may ask, how do you come to be here?" Yuy wondered in amazement. The Merquise shrugged eloquently. "Oh. There was an elderly fellow amidst our cooks. He remembered the gallows tree from the days of his youth. Upon our urging, he rather tremulously led us to the place. And we soon found your inhumation tunnel. And so here we are for a little midnight exercise. But where is this miserable Tanist fellow whose liver I long to tickle with steel?" "Most abased apologies, my Lord," Yuy hung his head humbly. "I was forced by dire circumstances to slay him prematurely." "Ah. Well, then, that is done. You may recompense me somehow for my disappointment." The Snowlord's ice blue eyes glinted wickedly. "And we seem to have had a rather brief tussle here, scarce worth the journey. Aye, me, I am not even winded. Well, there is still sufficient moonlight to return to our feasting then. Since the fray appears finished." "Gods! Duo!" Suddenly recollecting, Yuy sprinted back toward the celestial stone circle. He drew up abruptly at sight of the Lord Treize, kneeling. Who had removed from his shoulders a most elegant azure cloak. And then, oblivious to the mud and gore, used it to wrap a small, crumpled form. "Is this your death soul seeker, then? Poor mite. Hast taken his mortal stroke facing his foeman most bravely. Mark you here? A single clean wound, directly over the heart. There seems scant a drop of blood left in his body." The Sunlord gently stroked the mangled braid of silk. "Behold the face. As if the master artisan's hand had carved it perfectly out of ice." Heero Yuy could not bear to look. But could not tear his sight away. The scalding pain deep in his chest exceeded any battle wound for torturous agony. As if in a nightmare view, he saw his own hands reach for the boy and clasp him close. Turning to seek the light and warmth of the pyre, he drew near to its flames. Then crouched upon the flagstones, hugging the body tightly in his arms. Even through the soft warmth of the cloak, the coldness of the flesh penetrated. "Dids't freeze to death, Duo?" he asked the form. "Now art warmer, I vow." The Norse warriors left the thane to his sorrow a longish while. They perceived, fierce fighter though he had again proven, that he had been trained wrong, and did not know enough to praise his friend's glorious death. It occurred to Heero how selfish a state was mourning. He kept thinking of things he wanted to say to Duo, and things he wanted to hear from Duo. He remembered the seeker's promise. Duo had yet to reveal to his comrade the secret of the cedar plaque that had set the boy laughing cheerfully. Set him smiling despite his desperate circumstances. What could have been so exceedingly humorous about the horrible god Su's dictum, carved elaborately in ancient symbols, wielded as a weapon in the hands of a miserable madman? Heero longed ardently for the boy in his arms. Longed for his sweet soft lovemaking. And his sturdy practicality. His gentle healing hands, and his compact capable fighting strength. Longed for the depth and breadth of his wisdom, eagerly offered most generously to anyone who wished to receive the gift. Selfish. Think of Duo. He had been hurt and no comrade nearby to soothe the misery. "Brave friend. Which of the cowards was it that stabbed thee? I pray it may have been my sword that killed the monster, and held him writhing on it, run through his vitals. I slew a goodly number of them as they fled, bleating. Like as not t'was my blade that did the deed, indeed." He searched then for the death wound he had not perceived before. Ah, there, over the heart, just as the Sunlord had indicated. Strange of the Norse men to so glorify a mortal stroke rather than wail over it. Heero touched the torn flesh gingerly, wishing he could reverse the progress of time, go back and soothe the harm for his comrade. He cried out suddenly, his hand shocked away as if lightning-struck. For his probing fingers had felt a fluttering presence and become wet with new shed blood. He nearly dropped the body in his sudden sense of panic. In a terrible tangle of fear and hope, he watched the thorax expand over a shuddering sigh. "Duo? Art not dead?" His voice croaked, rattling in his throat. "Heero?" The sound scarcely whispered. "No, not dead. But hugely, vastly drunk. Called me a tint-wit, and right at that." "I swear. You were dead. You were," Heero protested, weeping like a maiden. "Your heart beat not. Nor did you breathe. Not one gasp. The longest time now." The mutters so low, Yuy had to place his face on the other's to hear the sound. "Oh. Ah. 'Tis the cold that has done that. Expiration from exposure. How often has my dear master spoken that saying? The patient be not dead, until he be warmed and dead." Heero laughed and sobbed into the mess of Duo's hair. "Were grieving? Poor friend." The whitened hand twitched, but found no further strength to move. Heero rose sturdily, clutching his burden near. "We will wend back to the hut now. Then I'll heat some water to drink, to warm your inward aspect. You will sleep as long and peacefully as you may like, with no enemies to trouble your rest. And I will bandage the hurt on your hand. And that upon your heart." Duo murmured, drifting off, drowsy dreaming. "Heart's
wound? Oh, aye, Heero Yuy. Mend me my heart." ~ * ~ tbc....
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