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"The Rovers"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: AU, Romance, Adventure Pairings: ? Summary: The characters from Gundam Wing find love amid the perils of war, oh… and they save the world while they're at it. The story is set in an alternative universe on earth. Part One is told from Heero's point of view. We meet the roving people with a hidden agenda, and the men hunting them. In Part Two, things go wild and…well, let's just get through these first four chapters of Part One and see how it goes. Thanks to Waterlily for reading and offering her
advice not just once but twice—and when you get through part
two you see just how long a story this is and just how much I owe
her! Hope the exchange rate is in my favor… "The Rovers " Part One Chapter 2 - Meet the Prince of L4, or Not The low pass looked across a wide plateau, rippled with dunes of sand. The dunes swept westward all the way to the coast and abutted the mountains to the east. A line of green marked the eastern border, the river Marfer, fed by snowmelt. Without it, I didn't think L4 could exist. The prince rode beside the princess's carriage. She had and arm out the window, gesturing. Her voice and his laugh carried back to where I traveled with my men. I found it heartening to watch the closeness develop between the brother and sister. Estranged as children, Relena and Zechs now seemed to find solace in each other's company. Maybe they saw a future where they would see less and less of one another and were trying to make the most of the present? It left me with time to think and organize the march. There was little time to prepare for whatever kind of L4 party would ride out to greet us, and I had little faith in everything unfolding according to plan. Things would go wrong. People betrayed you. Expect the unexpected and be prepared. "Shayla! Moskez!" I called two of my men I knew had been to L4. "Lead the troops. Keep to the packed road. Use the turnouts for rests. Do not deviate from the road." "We'll keep the wagons out of the sand, Sir!" "Good." I scanned for my next choice and found him wiping sweat from his brow. "Liam!" Liam had never been south of Sanc. As far as I knew, he'd never been out of the palace grounds. I knew he must be suffering from the extended riding and the heat already. "I want you to stay here. Set up camp back at the grove where there's cover in the thicket." "Not the last outpost, Sir?" Poor boy would have liked that comfortable bed again. "No. The woods back a ways. If Shayla or I, or obviously the prince, do not meet back here in two days, then ride like the wind to the post. Send messengers back to the capital. Tell them Relena and her guardsmen have been taken hostage." "Yes, Sir! You expect trouble then?" "I expect nothing but trouble on this trip and I'm suspicious of every leader - they are all fomenting conflict and crafting intrigues of one kind of the other." "You can trust me, Sir. I will stand alert. Your message will get through, Sir!" As we made out descent, we could see a cloud of dust coming closer. "The L4 sheikh has sent a party to welcome the princess," Zechs told me. "I'll bet." I had my sword in hand and had checked the readiness of the troops. "We'll see." The sheik's retinue simply led us into the palace grounds. Our horses were cared for; my men housed. Zechs, Relena, and her staff were provided for. I remained with my guardsmen and waited for news. There would be a delay. This announcement came with apologies aplenty but no explanation. Hours later Zechs found me. "I have been granted a meeting with the sheik. I will get to the bottom of this." "Good. Let him know that if I don't send out word that all is well by nightfall then Sanc will know about it." This wasn't entirely true. There was one more day, but that was my padding. He raised an eyebrow in question. "Yes, I set up a patrol. Liam just within the Sanc border and Shayla here knows who and where and can act as runner." "Shayla is the dark guardsman?" "Yes, his mother was from L4. I trust him completely." I liked to believe what I saw was a look of admiration directed at me. "Very good. All right. I'll see what I can learn and impress upon the sheikh that Relena's well-being is of the utmost importance to Sanc." Whether or not it was. Hours later, Zechs returned to report. "I'm told that the prince had been out hunting and was late returning. I think that was a lie. They are trying too hard to convince me that they are unconcerned. 'Not to worry. Just a delay,' they say, 'Send our compliments to the regent of the Sanc Kingdom, Treize Khushrenada'!" A kick in the face to the aging king, Zechs' father, certainly. I felt the sting of it, and I was sure Zechs did and admired his self-control not to correct the man on the point of his sword. We were allowed the one messenger. He was issued transport papers that allowed him passage across the border and back once a day. Zechs accepted that with gritted teeth. And so we waited. Zechs paced like a caged bear. I gave him plenty of space, delivered him food and drink, and polished our swords. And waited. "The prince must have gone further than planned. He would be very late returning," we were informed. If he returned. AWOL was my term. We grew impatient. Zechs was boiling mad. Four days we waited before Zechs was invited back to the sheik's quarters. This time the news was dire. "Prince Quatre was missing and presumed to have been kidnapped." Relena and her retinue were to remain, as guests of Sheikh Zayeed Winner. Zechs and I were to hunt for, locate, and return the prince to his father and then the courtship and wedding plans could commence. Although she was housed properly and according to her station as a guest of honor, Relena was not allowed to leave. She felt like a prisoner. Zechs seemed unsure if he should order her return to Sanc or obey the host. I recommended that we go along with the sheik- we were outnumbered—and inform the king, and the general. My advice was well received, and minutes later Shayla sneaked out in the disguise of a Maguanac with a message to Liam: "Princess held by sheikh until we find missing L4 prince." Food and shelter were primary requirements, but for men, so was sexual relief. We were not offered women. The troops grew restive. They were young and virile and confined to sharing quarters at night. Merquise, I noticed, had taken Breir, a guard he favored with personal attention, for a walk. I wouldn't have thought of them again, if I hadn't seen the Maguanacs' leader pulling Merquise aside later. If it was news, I wanted to hear it first hand, so I edged close enough to overhear Rashid's whispered warning: "No man on man here. Outlawed. Retribution, if you are seen, is very bad." I hadn't known Zechs preferred men over women, or maybe it was just handier most of the time? (o) Dunes Passage with Maguanacs "Be of service to the sheikh", we had been told, commanded, by royal messenger. I didn't think it came from the king. It looked like the general's writing, and Zechs accepted it as such, but without much enthusiasm. We were loaned a pack mule to carry our winter wear and dressed in the garb of the desert: flowing white robes tied at the waist and matching head gear with veiling to cover our faces, in case of dust storms. Also lent to us were the sheik's personal guardsmen, ferociously loyal fighters, the Maguanacs. Their leader, called only Rashid, had handpicked a few good men to accompany us. "I feel like a princess in a fairytale: antique, enchanted, and chained." Relena did not want to be left behind. Who could blame her? Even with her retinue of handmaidens and personal guard, she was alone in a strange land. We had little choice in the matter. We either followed orders or didn't and risk the consequences. "There will be plenty of time for that," Zechs muttered, as if he were already planning his revolution then gave us both an ambiguous smile. Relena mirrored it. I don't know if she knew how alike their expressions were. Everybody more or less understood most of what was going on. An elusive smile was appropriate to more than ninety percent of what went on in the world. {A/N: a quote I borrow from Alan Furst's novel The Polish Officer } We three walked a short distance, passing out of the gated garden which contained a few parched palm trees and a dry fountain, and moved into the lee of a mound of the ever-present pale grit. There we sat on a dry flat rock placed, possibly, just for that purpose. Zechs remained standing a ways off and stared into the distance a moment longer then coughed—a cough of delicacy—and said, "A call of nature. You will excuse me for a moment." He left the dune, as older brothers had been leaving younger sisters with their beaus, I imagined, since the days of yore. Except that Relena and I weren't a romantically linked couple; at least to my mind. I put an arm around her shoulders, not much more than a gesture, and she clung to me, her protector. "Good bye and good luck, but maybe I should wish you poor luck finding the boy?" She arched her eyebrow when she said this. "Then I could go back home, unmarried." Her summery print dress stirred as she moved into me so that her breasts touched my chest. "Goodbye, my lady." I wished her well and us too. There would only be Zechs and I going on this fools' errand. The remainder of Relena's retinue would stay with her and continue the communication system I'd started with the Sanc Kingdom via Shayla. No wagons could traverse the sands and few horses. Because both of our horses were from Arab bloodlines, they were deemed tough enough to endure the trip. I should have worried more about myself. It was certainly a test of my endurance. Zechs claimed to have taken this journey once before, as a child, and had a better idea of how terrible it would be. We stuck to a path I couldn't have picked out through the changing sandbanks. Rashid sent out men scanning the dunes for any signs of the lost prince. One night, we clustered around a campfire. We'd been fortunate to find water; the previous oasis has gone dry. "Such is the way of the desert," Rashid said with resignation. "The wind blows, sands shift, water flows interrupted." "You are still looking for the prince?" Rashid shook his head. "Not at all. Collecting men roaming the dunes. We know where the young prince has gone." "Then this is unnecessary!" Zechs concluded. "You don't need us." "Not here, but he is not in our kingdom anymore." "He's in the mountains?" I asked, looking out into the darkness where the highest mountains in all the land rose out of the desert, where we were heading. "I believe so. Also, we believe the Rovers met him in the foothills." "Rovers," Zechs echoed. "Yes." Rashid waved an arm at the low ridge. "Many horses left prints and an ornamental bell such as the Rovers have been known to tie to their horses manes." So, Prince Winner was already at the pass, possibly through it. Who knew how much of a head start he had?! "He is far ahead of us," I said. "We'll be lucky to make it through the pass before snow closes it." "Extremely lucky," Rashid acknowledged. "We should turn back and return with the princess to Sanc," I said and stood ready to leave immediately. "We have our orders," Zechs reminded me. He turned on the man his equal in height but who outweighed him by half and was broad and solidly muscled. Rashid did not back down as Zechs' hand moved to his sword. "You don't need the two of us to catch your prince." "We do," Rashid insisted. "We have no agreements in place with the neighboring kingdoms. Alliances have broken down over time and we are only now attempting to mend them." "And Sanc can enter freely," Zechs wrapped up. "We are your escorts then?" "As you say," Rashid said with a smile, the first I'd seen on his face. "It is unfortunate that you arrived in the L4 kingdom so late," he told us. Summer was the worst of times to travel the dunes. Not only was water scarce, but storms of were blowing sand at their worst. Rashid related this to us, but it was old news to me. All I could do was frown at Zechs. Zechs was immune to my accusing glare, but then he had liked my plan and would, probably, have agreed to it. He wasn't to blame. Khushrenada was. The general had ignored my recommendations, insisted on the stupidest course of action, and here we were, paying for it all. The general wasn't stupid, though, so he must have hoped we would fail and that Zechs would die on this mission. I was sure Zechs had come to the same conclusion—he wasn't stupid and had survived this long. It was a new sound and had been gaining ground, coming nearer, or we were coming nearer it. I urged my horse alongside the Maguanacs' leader's fine mare. "I hear something. A roar. It can't be falls or the ocean," I said, certain any water would be the result of a hallucination. "You hear the sigh of the simoon, a desert dust storm. I heard it too, which is why we've been heading sharply northeast to that ridgeline. It's moving fast. We should outrace it." "Sand storm? It is dangerous?" "Oh yes, very." "Then what are we waiting for?" I shouted. "The right moment. NOW! Let's ride!" Rashid cried out, barking calls and orders to the other men, while I explained to Zechs what was going on. "He must have a safety spot over there," I said, pointing at the dark rusty smear. Two storms a week apart. We spent over a month total holed up in caves while sand blasted the landscape. Our quarry could be anyplace by now, but that was the least of my worries- survival was! With the first storm, the caves were spacious with separate cutouts for the animals. We cooked and drank strong coffee and listened to the men of the desert tell strange stories. The second storm caught us in a more vulnerable location. We had to wrap the horses' faces and lead them blindly to a protected spot, where there was barely enough room for us all crowded in with the horses and mules. I had sand and grit in every pore. I didn't think my hair would ever not be peppered with the stuff. Had Rashid not been as skilled a traveler, we certainly would have been polished bones buried in the dunes. We arrived at the foothills as summer passed into fall. Rashid surprised us by continuing along after dismissing his men. I hadn't expected the company, but his was knowledgeable and a good cook. "If we make the pass then I go on with you. I must bring back the young prince," Rashid explained. "But, if the pass closes, I go back." He grinned. "I stay in my warm home for the winter and meet you back after the snow melt." The weather was dry, perfect, and so we made the best of it, pushing ourselves to make it through the pass before the snows began. It was one of three passes over the high range: there was one best-maintained one in the far north, a near-vertical climb to one east of Sanc, and this one in the south. Our road widened when it was joined by a wagon road, which wound a path through the foot hills, linking wine grape and fruit and nut orchards growers. These men were in a hurry. "They say rain is coming and they want to make it to the town of Lwin before nightfall," Rashid told me. "If it's raining here, it could mean snow at the top of the pass." And that was bad news. "The wet might not make it that far," he said, ever hopeful. "If there's any chance of getting over," Zechs said, "we must try." "I agree. We can camp. And after the sand storms, I don't think rain will harm us." I felt our horses would love the rinsing off they'd get from a downpour. "We'll step up our pace then," Rashid said. "There's a town after Lwin, not even a town. But we might get a meal and a bed of straw." Big drops of rain began to fall on the gravel path sending up dust spumes in places and adding shine in others. We stepped up our pace and made it to the wide spot in the road called Trim. Because Zechs was a prince, we were given the best rooms in a house which had long ago been very beautiful but had become neglected. Then it rained. Hard. I found Zechs lying on a long red-and-gold couch with a brocade pillow under his head. He got to his feet, walked to the French doors, index finger holding his place in a borrowed book, and stared out into the night. Someone had stored pieces of old statuary behind the hedge wall; water glistened on the stone when the lightning flickered. The wind grew stronger; rain blew in sheets over the garden. Zechs cracked open the window then the air cooled suddenly and the sound of thunder rolled and echoed down the deserted streets and canyons. He shivered with the blowing pale hair of a prophet. "Still wish you were out in that?" he asked me. "Not really, but I wish we were further along." It rained. Slowly, endlessly. The bare branches of the fir trees dripped water in the gray light. With dawn came a cold, dirty drizzle, the wind blowing the smell of pine resin away. Water dripped from Rashid's drooping moustache, but he didn't complain as we rode away from Trim. (o) Mountain Pass of Doom A snarl of wagon tracks converged as small paths merged into the one single road leading to the pass, and as the day dragged on, we met more and more wagons, till carrying their loads, coming back down. "...closing pass... early snows... wait it out and maybe we'll get another opening..." The rain had stopped by the time we arrived in Marloof. This was the last real town with an inn and beds this side of the gap. After that it was "get on as best you could" until you came down the other side of the mountains and reached the outpost called Fairway. The pass at both ends was secured by a local, civilian crew. Dedicated and well-armed, they stopped traffic sure to become trapped. No one wanted to risk their lives rescuing mired wagons and no one wanted to clear roadways of decomposing bodies come the spring melt. It was a service that they provided and the community supported them; the travelers supported them through a fee. Use funded the men and road maintenance, which had to be high, I estimated, from all the traffic I noted. At this time, pass sentries were turning back any wagons attempting to cross, but still allowing through folks on horseback, at their own risk, so we hurried. Zechs and I wouldn't wait in any case; the delay would be unacceptable. Rashid would go back to L4 and wait for us to show up in spring with his prince, I believed. "If they try to prevent our travels," Zechs said, "we'll find a route around the gates at night, if it comes to that." It didn't, thankfully, and we rode steadily up the road until we came to a ridge. Between this high point and the next, the mountainside dipped. The forest collected rainwater to become a partially frozen marshland in spring. It was well on its way to being one now after the driving storm. Rashid's frowning face summed it up. "Nasty, nasty, stuff. I'd much rather be in the dunes than here." I was close to agreeing. . If I thought the snow was bad, the sludge was worse. The horses picked their way along the muddy road. We all looked over our shoulders, searched the distance, and scrutinized the shadows for any chance of ambush. Running would be impossible now. "No wonder they turned back wagons." Not soon enough, though. We came upon a wagon which had, apparently, been let through before the blockade set, rocking back and forth in a rut. The pair of shaggy horses ankle deep in the mud nosing for food. A hooded girl held the reins in the crook of her knee and was pointing a rifle at us. Of course, a few idiots would have pushed ahead carrying too heavy loads! Didn't they know they'd be destined to become stuck in the quagmire of mud between the deep ruts? As much as I was willing to just leave them there stranded for their bull-headed foolishness, we didn't. "Put down the gun," Zechs barked, commanding the girl like he would a servant. Her father, I assumed he was, or older husband, appeared from around the wagon. "Who's there?" Rashid and I let Zechs do the talking and soon the three of us had to get off our mounts and help collect dried fern and sticks to push under wheels and then lend a shoulder and push, push, push. Once we got them turned around and back on semi-solid ground headed back to Marloof, we could ride on. It wasted precious time while it didn't rain or snow. I put a foot in the stirrup and swung up on my horse. The desert man and the future leader of Sanc stared without expression as the wagon bumped away, the farmer walking the horses at wagon speed. The skies over the marsh were alive, broken gray cloud blown west, and a few dry flakes of snow drifting down. What next? "We'll need a rear guard," Zechs said to Rashid as the damaged roadway fell behind them. "Agreed. I don't like this place. Bandits could be hiding at every turn." Rashid slowed his horse and fell back behind me, and we moved onwards. At night the temperature fell and the puddles froze and huge clouds gathered in the sky, but it did not snow much. And in the morning it was blue and sunny, so we made good time. In the swamps and woodlands there was mist, snow showers, a freeze, a thaw, heavy rain; then impossible, unimaginable mud. Like dull-minded peasants, Zechs and I would stand by the road—the "road," the "Great Sanc Kingdom Highway"—and stare at the roving deer or wolves or fat birds using it to traverse the land. Sometimes the horses could move swiftly, at others their hooves ground the lightly frozen earth into the mud below, and sank. Before we couldn't see the treacherous potholes any longer, we made a sorry camp. Rashid's strong coffee was good at fighting off the chill, but that was about it. Zechs took the first watch, which seemed to be to his liking. That night we could hear the wolves howl and stir up the icy nights. At dawn, an alert. I looked out in position on the camp perimeter, aiming into the forest gloom. A horseman on ice and gravel. I jogged in the direction of the sound. Somewhere the road led out of the forest and teed off toward a little settlement we learned later was called Gradh. We smelled smoke a mile away, walked the horses into the village. We received suspicious looks from the bundled up, dark figures that moved between the buildings, all two of them. One had a sign, which I could just make out to read something along the lines of "Tav'rn Gradh"; the other just looked too oppressive to be anything I'd want to explore. I met their eyes not daring to be furtive, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. So I returned the stares, trudged along in the snow. Zechs strode like a king aiming for the tavern. Rashid took on the appearance of someone grudgingly cold and absentminded and absorbed in his business. And armed. "I see why this place isn't on the map." I wouldn't want to rely on the village having provisions or places to bed down out of the elements. "A drink I could use," Zechs said, so we tied up our horses. "I'll remain. And watch," Rashid said. He didn't drink and trusted no one with his horses and pack mule. The bar, such as it was, was shabby. It offered two drinks, both strong, one clear, Zechs ordered that, the other poisonously green-black, which I tested. A very stout porter gone sour. The gloom permeated the place entering into my very soul. We were watched. "I have a bad feeling about this place," Zechs whispered. Pretty obvious it was a hideout for unsavories. One pair of cloaked men had watched us enter the single room bar. They slipped out shortly afterwards. I noticed two women staring blatantly at us. One, I thought, could be pretty. "Not your type," Zechs told me. I knew he meant that they were whores. I wasn't interested in any case. "That one, though—to look at her you'd never imagine-." "Oh, I can imagine." "Never, ever, will I marry," I declared. I'd decided that I didn't want the encumbrance of a woman to support and children to raise. "I'm not fit to be tied down." But I'd let Duo tie me down...any way he wanted... I shook off the shocking, sudden thought my tired brain had conjured up to distract me. "Who is?" He slammed down his empty glass and dropped some coins as payment as he stood. "Any word on the rest of the pass?" he questioned the barman. "In the fall, we hold them two months if it starts to snow. Then it goes solid and packed, allowing horses and wagons go through, well, providing there is no blizzard. Peak is just ahead. You'll make it." Zechs imparted his approval with brusque nod and left. My barely-touched drink, I left sitting on the dirty counter. We opened the door and the cold slapped us in the face with a stinging ire. "How the hell did they manage in this kind of cold?" Zechs wondered aloud. And it was only October! Rashid had his short blade near at hand, ready to use. "It is a wonder." He shook his head, making the red tassel on his cap quiver. I found this amusing enough to smile. "With the heat, you build thick walls and stay out of the afternoon sun. The cold? Without fire you freeze to death." Without water you die, too, I wanted to add, but I didn't feel like arguing the point. I found the extremes equally nasty, but found no relief in complaining about the weather. We returned to the main road and rode while the weather permitted and the surface was good. No wagons had made it this far during or after the rain. Our altitude was such that snow sat banked in the clearings and ice glistened in the low sun angle. Behind us, the road was cut into wagon ruts; up ahead the ruts were absent, but it grew steeper. We took a break after mid-day to rest the horses and eat some dried meat. Rashid leaned back against a tree, folded arms around his curved blade and across his chest, with his knees pulled up he appeared completely at rest except for his eyes, slitted against the snow, watching the approaches to the hilltop. "Do you like the life in the forest?" Rashid asked me, tired of listening to the wind. "I did, but not this one." Not with the current company. "I have few, if any, contacts around here." "Nor I. Our people have no trade here. I worry about my young prince, why he came—" "Came? Wasn't he captured and taken away? That's what we were told." "And that is true, in part." Rashid sighed. "He was not... completely delighted about his upcoming nuptials." Nor was Relena, I was thinking. "He told me that his father was unhappy with him. That since he couldn't prove his merit in any other way, his father arranged for him to join our colony with the Sanc Kingdom and be a worthy heir that way. Something to that effect." "I guess being a prince has its shortcomings," I said, not feeling particularly sad for the kid, this Prince Quatre. Relena was a nice girl and didn't deserve to be treated that way. I resented him already. Of course, it was bad for Quatre since he, apparently, wasn't excited about the arrangement either. "So he ran away from the arranged marriage?" "Oh, no. That would have been improper. He ran off to save the prince of L5 from the Rovers to prove his worth." I stared hard at Rashid. "That is not what your... sheikh ... told us." "I do not think my leader believes in his son's chances. To him, it will be a surety... his son will locate these Rovers, be captured, and held for ransom, just as the L5 prince has been." "Don't tell Merquise. Let the boy tell him when we find him," I recommended. "My thoughts as well." We shivered in the cold, guzzling the last of the lukewarm coffee. Zechs was gathering his horse's reins, ready to march on. "What a fuck-it-all trip," I grumbled. My two companions agreed with words of their own. Then, to top things off, snow whispered down, the air frozen and still. We made it to the top, but didn't stop to enjoy the view. We had so few hours of daylight left we couldn't lose a minute to sightseeing. It was clouded over anyway. The snow reflected the light and made it brighter, but it was getting harder telling the road from the softly rounded forest floor. I kept to the middle of what appeared flat and hoped the snow didn't hide holes that could break our horses' legs. We had made it halfway. I let myself enjoy a moment of glee, the satisfaction of having some this far successfully. Then we began the long haul down the mountain. When it became too dark to go on we stopped. We built a fire; a chancy thing to do since it signaled bandits of our whereabouts, but we needed the warmth to dry socks and make coffee for the man on watch to stay alert. From the resigned sigh and the foot-dragging, I could tell Zechs was reluctant to leave that circle of warmth, but he had as good as insisted to be the first on guard duty every night. The fire cracked and popped, spitting embers that glowed a second then went out, and gradually died down as I fell asleep. It felt as if only seconds had passed; I woke up to the sound of a footfall crunching. I felt for my sword and griped the handle as I cracked open my eyes. There was Zechs, pants down, urinating into a bush. The manhood in his hand was huge. A heat fired up inside me and my own cock stirred. I couldn't stop staring at it until he had it tucked away, and then I looked up into his eyes. He stopped close and knelt. "If I didn't know you were a woman-user, I'd take you in a second." I could see his fractional smile as he lifted a single eyebrow in question. "With your willing participation, of course," he added. He said something more about me being "hot", but the blood was pounding in my ears so hard I couldn't focus on what was being said. I grunted "hn" and ran off to take my turn guarding the campsite. While I sat, I fought away visualizations of Zechs pounding into me, like a stud a mare. Like it or not, my own reactions revealed everything I had tried to ignore and conceal. I had no trouble staying awake and didn't feel the chill air. At some point, it was time to attempt sleep. I'd need the rest for the drive down the mountain planned for the next day. I woke Rashid and turned in, too tired to think about inviting a man under my blankets, thank the gods, because later one of the Gods would reward me with someone wonderful for showing restraint now. TBC...
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