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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 8: Hazel Wise One
Duo had calculated according to his dead master's celestialogy. He knew this of a surety to be Winter Solstice Eve. The longest night of the year. His doom night. He had vowed to cast fear far from him. Meet his tormentors boldly. But a strange heaviness seized him, and he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He staggered across the room to drop onto the meager grimy pallet. The head injury, he reminded himself. I have over exerted myself. I must rest. Only close my eyes. A few moments' respite. He found himself grabbed upwards, then flung down. Thrust into the First Day of the Earth. Crying, sobbing, begging to return to his home upon the heights of Traeszkavelon. To breathe again the cold clean air, caressed, cradled in the sheltering arms of the Maternal Mountain. But his home place refused him. And so he stood through the ceaseless day, a millennium or maybe more, waiting for the Limitless Powers to create the Night. The heat of the Sun, merciless upon his pale skin, which seemed consumed by the burning beams. But ever renewed to accept agony again. For what crimes he was punished, he did not know, could not conceive. He was yet to be accused. Yet to be born. He pleaded for the Night, reminding the careless Powers of their Plan. When he first viewed the outpouring Darkness he fell down upon the dirt and waited for the blessing to arrive. First Night. However, what had seemed merely the forever-anticipated night sky proved to be a lava flow. Pouring black from the horrible horizon, edged acrid red. A wave of purifying destruction that swept up the dirt's filth, swallowed everything in its way. Relentless in its oncoming, overwhelming. Sizzling, seething, seizing him in a burning grip. Tumbling him, pummeling him cruelly. Searing his flesh with hidden flames. Then the flow of magma ceased, and he found himself encased in rock, contracting around him as it cooled. Grinding against his skin, abrading him to raw sensitivity. Stifling, slowly suffocating him. Now, at last, he arrived at the Beginning. The Earth exploded. Still within the imprisonment, glacier stone. He was flung far in the entombing black ice. He never lost consciousness. Aware in his frigid rock shroud. Flight without origin or destination. Perhaps in some reincarnation of the Universe, his glacial lover, asteroid, would come to a halt. Ensnared. Trapped into an orbit. To orbit Traeszkavelon. Perhaps then he would be allowed the silent peace of true Death. But for now, his sentience was his accusation, trial, infinite punishment. His sole companion, lover, torturer, executioner. Eternally renewed. Whose hand touched him. Burning, icy, relentless. "Help me. Please. Heero," he cried aloud. And opened his eyes to look into the empty sockets of a Death's head. He flung himself out of the cruel skeletonic grip. Surrounded. Himself the insignificant central figure. His huge enemies, painted in dread and staining blood. Penumbral shrouds, hiding whatever humanity they had. If any remained to them, it was cloaked. Abruptly, painfully Duo returned unto himself. He grinned. "Come, my company. You are grown men. At least I suppose you are, though you cower in your child costumes." The circle of threat tightened around him. His hands bound with leather at his back. A noose leash, encircling his neck. Did they mean to hang him upon the Elder gallows? Would the vaunted Commander Merquise arrive in the clear light of tomorrow's sun, with all his men going to battle? And find the crumpled figure of the death soul seeker, dangling forlornly in the naked winter arms of the doom tree? Was this to be Heero Yuy's next view of him? He imagined the young warrior, repulsed by the sight, turning away his bright countenance. Taking the New Year's first day away with him, forever. "Surely you don't truly believe. That my death brings back the Sun. Do you? What are you, then, mere animals? Foolish beasts, afraid of the darkness of a plain winter's night? Less than children, to play dark games out of your gut-trembling, bowel-loosening terror?" He guessed then that they were under some vow of silence. Some enforced tongueless compunction. So that they merely kicked at him, and tightened the noose to silence him, rather than replying. The path they took in the towering forest maze was a new one to Duo. Extraordinarily narrow, allowing them to march only in single file. The sides all overgrown with thorny, flesh-slashing brambles. Having entered, the only exit would be at the bitter end. The gibbous moon commenced her rise. A glistening sphere, somewhat moth eaten. Scattering glittering snippets of waning beauty along the pristine snow carpet. Mocking the boy with love tokens from the elderly Lunar Lady. "Here is a thought for you merry gentlemen. If I am a lunatic, am I not the property of the Moon Goddess? Under her protection? Bethink you. She will be angry with you for offering me, her serving page, as sacrifice to the Sun, her scornful lover. When my Lady sees what you have done to me. I would not be in your shoes. Or cloven hooves, if you have those instead. When that great Lady looses her furious wrath upon you in punishment for this transgression. Surely she will drive you all to instant madness. I can just picture you tomorrow. Foaming at the mouth, tearing at your eyes until you claw them out. Singing tunelessly, laughing witless, raving whilst scattering your shit upon the wind." They actually hesitated at this saying. He trembled with laughter, dropping to his knees then. Resting his head hopelessly upon the snowy ground. In pure wonderment that they should be susceptible to this logic. But not the other. Believing that his death would actually bring back the lost Solstice Sun. But enrage the Moon. "Gods behold you! Pathetic." At last when the weight of winter wind drove the chill deep into their collective marrow, the miserable minions gathered their scattered nerves, hauled the boy back to his feet and forced him forward. The heat of the sacrificial flames could be felt along the nether path. The air smelled of fragrant clean evergreen ashes and hideous cruel carnage. Next the dangerous roar of the snarling, devouring fire could be heard. Then the view of the Tanist, fanatical eyes gleaming in his head. Canines snapping in his jaws. His arms, bared to the elbow, encrusted with old blood, bathed in renewed gore. His black robes, blacker from the stains soaking them. He cast his look upon the boy. Seeker of death souls. Solstice sacrifice. "The lunatic," he mocked. But Duo noticed the hesitancy of his minions at this saying. The boy was shoved, stumbling into the grasp of the Tanist of Su. "Now, boy. There are two ways you may proceed, and only two. Hark you well unto this rede. I will instruct you in what you must do. And you will obey me without hesitation. One false move and my acolytes receive you for their use. And when they have enjoyed your body thoroughly, each and every one of them. They will then enforce upon your person all my instruction. So that you will obey me complacently now. Or miserably later. It being your choice." He grasped the boy's face in his blood clotted fist. "Do you understand?" "Yes." The Tanist struck the boy across his face, cracking hard upon him, enough to fell him to the flagstones. "You will say 'Master' when you answer me." The boy did not answer. The Tanist accepted the silence as acquiescence. He grabbed the boy up off the paving. Held him dangling a moment. Then hefted a ceremonial dagger and laid the bloody blade against the boy's throat, left it there. Duo hung limply, offering no resistance. At which the Tanist slashed, first the leathern fetters, then the boy's hand, eliciting an anguished cry. "It is time to drink," the Tanist bellowed, holding the boy's hand outstretched toward his minions. The painted acolytes clustered around the offering. Reaching their tongues out for the dripping lifeblood, lapping at it, taking upon themselves the aspect of carrion-eaters. When each of them had received a taste of sacrificial gore, they backed away, moaning. Returned, they bore a steaming basin. Which was placed upon a stone stand near the flames. "You will cleanse yourself now. First your hands and face." Duo approached the basin. Hesitated momentarily upon the view of his bloody hand, wondering whether use of it wouldn't make his washing rather pointless. Feeling the time hang sufficiently heavy that he seemed due for disciplinary measures, he took a deep breath and plunged his hands into the too-hot water. Then splashed the gory solution upon his face, giving him the metallic flavor upon his tongue of his own blood. And whatever offal had been transferred from the Tanist's hand to Duo's skin. He shuddered back against his sense of rising nausea. "Now undress. Cleanse the remainder of your body. You will use your shirt for a wash rag." Duo removed his shirt. He was close enough to the pyre that his front felt flame warmed. Though his back was instantly chilled in the caress of the wintry wind. He dipped his sleeve into the basin and scrubbed at his upper body, delaying unclothing his nether regions as long as humanly possible. That time eventually passed. He sat upon the flagstones to remove his boots. "Wash your feet." Which he did. When he stood, his damp skin stuck in tiny freezing needles of sensation to the icy paving stones. He lowered his leggings, and stepped out of them. "Strip entirely." He added his breechclout to his discarded clothes. "Complete your cleansing." The water by now was more red than clear. But he felt the bleeding lessen upon his palm, even as the burning laceration pained him more. Well at least the spittle off the minions' vile tongues was rinsed away. Duo shuddered. "Enough. It suffices." The Tanist's minions presented their master with a huge chalice. He commenced chanting over it, on howling notes that were as unmusical as any the boy had ever heard. To enhance this effect, the acolytes began again moaning, although on entirely different tones than their leader. A dreadful cacophony. Duo scrunched his face in order to surreptitiously close off his hearing. Through his squinted vision, he saw the Tanist sprinkle a dusty brown powder over the chalice contents. "It is time to drink." Again? The boy clutched his injured hand to his naked chest. But the Tanist drew close. Grasped Duo's neck, and pressed the chalice against the boy's lips. "All of it," he insisted. A moldery fungal smell mingled with raw brew. "With the ivy that ascends spiraling to the heavens is the year cycle renewed." Duo began to swallow. And swallow. And swallow. He felt certain he would puke. But the fist clenched over the back of his neck was insistent. He swallowed more. And again. The raw ivy beer flooded him. Just when he felt he would drown from the inside out, he was at last released. Head spinning, gut queasy. "If you vomit, more drink will be brought. Now lie down upon the stone." This was the beginning of the end. Lying upon the stone seemed likely his last mortal act. Duo glimpsed the altar. It glistened with congealed, frozen blood. He hesitated a moment only, in disgust. But the threat of being handled by the Tanist's minions returned to his imagination, and he forced himself to sit, then recline upon the stone. The icy surface burned his skin. It occurred to him he would soon be numb to sensation. Which would be a blessing. Unless. He let that thought drift without completion. Now the acolytes secured his limbs to the four corners of the altar. The head of the stone was somewhat higher than the foot, so that the sacrificial victim could watch his doom stroke approaching. Duo looked up into the heavens, at wisps of clouds sparkling with moon dusted ice crystals. The glittering facets of stars appeared in and out of the windblown mist. Such vast, cold glory, a last glimpse. The Tanist's ugly visage intervened. His fist clutched a hazel wand, signifying an attempt at divination. "Boy. You have drunk the ivy ale laced with forest spirits. Now say what visions are granted us this night." Indeed the whole Earth and the Heavens spun around, with Duo the pivot center. And then the sky view fragmented, as if mirrored on a surface of the smoothest ice, now shattered into sharp edged motes. Duo told himself he had swallowed too much alcohol, and likely some toxic mushroom derivative as well. And that these were merely drunken visions he saw. And not the actual death souls, images as well as voices, surrounding the altar stone. Crowding inward upon him. "What do you see, boy? Say what are the visions the gods have sent? Make haste. Speak or die now." And the Tanist of Su pressed the point of his dagger into the skin over Duo's heart, drawing forth several drops of blood pooling there. The seeker of death souls, the boy now spoke. "We are surrounded by the dead. Their hatred for you knows no bounds. They are here, bent upon vengeance. All those executed upon the gallows tree. And many others, here sacrificed on the altar. Their ghastly eyes weep blood not tears. They gnash their teeth. They are howling for your downfall. Their leader is the last Tanist of Su. Your predecessor, whom you murdered. Yes, he stands behind you with his hands around your throat. He says you poisoned him. And he is laughing now. Because he knows that tonight is your last night upon Earth. He sees the truth. Tonight you die." The acolytes all gaped and gasped, and stepped back in horror. The dead actually walked amongst them. Stalking the guilty living? The Tanist of Su glared hatefully at the Solstice sacrifice, bound upon the bloody altar stone. "Liar!" he shrieked, plunging his dagger down
toward the boy's heart pounding there. ~ * ~ tbc....
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