But you will come to a place
Where the only thing you feel
Are loaded guns in your face...
- Pressure - Billy Joel
Forward. Turn. Slash. Turn. Slash. Back.
Don't forget to breathe.
Gourry went through the paces, letting his mind go blank save for the motions of the exercise. It was dark out and the waning moon had risen early into the clear, cold sky and silver light poured through the transparent dome room into the Temple. The light from the moon symbol in the floor provided additional lighting as well. In this eerie double-light, Graeswandyr's white metal blade seemed to fairly glow. Not the way the Sword of Light had glowed, but with a soft, liquid incandescence.
Graeswandyr was lighter than the swords he was used to, so it took some time to adjust to the feel. He preferred a heavy blade, one that he could get some momentum behind with his powerful arms and long reach. However, with a sword like this, it didn't take long for him to adjust. He found himself thrilling to the soft sigh the moon-bright blade made as it cleaved the air. The sword seemed to know his every thought and respond to every command before he could think of it. It knew him, he thought, bringing it over his head and twirling it effortlessly. The light flashed off the metal as it danced before his eyes, hypnotic in its beauty. His world was limited to and defined by the flashing sword in his hands. Here he was Master: The knowledge and skill of swordplay etched and scored into his soul by long years of practice and application made him supreme in his field of knowledge. Entranced, he gave himself up, setting himself adrift in the simple beauty of forged steel, the feel of leather in his hands and the pull of muscle and sinew against bone -
When he finally came back to himself, he found himself on the opposite side of the Temple, looking outwards through the doors that led up to the Temples when they appeared, with no idea how he'd gotten there. He let his arms drop like weights to his side as he turned to slump against the glass. His chest rose and fell like a blacksmith's bellows as he fought to catch his breath. Inside those bellows, his heart pounded wildly, sending the blood rushing through his ears until he was deafened by its roar. He let his head fall back against the glass of the doors while his bare arms steamed in the cool moon-glow of the night and his hair formed a heavy, wet cloak down his back. The muscles in his arms and legs screamed from the exertion. Graeswandyr hung from limp fingers at his side.
Lifting one arm that felt like lead, he pinched the bridge of his nose; there was a buzzing behind his eyes that signaled a headache. How long had he been "out of it" of it, he wondered as he mopped his forehead and stared at the sword in his hand. He'd heard of the phenomenon from others, but had never experienced this level of concentration firsthand. It was both exhilarating and frightening.
"That was impressive," came a voice across the Temple from him. He looked up and found Jarix standing at the head of the stairs. The priest had brought his staff and was leaning on it. "Is that normal for you?"
"Is what normal for me?" Gourry asked, still feeling a little light-headed and detached.
"For you to become so deeply immersed in your exercises that you don't even hear someone calling your name?"
Gourry's brows drew together in a frown. "You were calling me? I didn't hear you."
"Obviously."
"How long? How long have you been there?"
"About thirty minutes. Zelgadis and Amelia said you'd been up here for about forty before I got back from Beram."
Gourry's jaw dropped; he'd been doing that for over an hour? No wonder his arms ached! He pushed his hair out of his face and blinked slowly, unable to put aside the strange disjointed feeling. It was as if his head was wrapped in cotton wool and thinking was harder than usual. "I..." he said, unable to get anything else out.
Jarix approached, the rings on his staff jingling. For some reason, that sound brought up memories of another priest and his staff with jingling rings, a priest in red robes and eyes sealed shut. Images flashed by too quickly for him to recognize, but the sense of danger was already there.
By the time he realized what was happening, he'd brought Graeswandyr up to a guard position and stood ready to defend himself. Jarix froze as the white blade whistled within a hair's breadth of his throat and stopped. He went pale; even Gourry could see the color drain from the other man's face under the pale moonlight.
"Gourry," Jarix said carefully, taking a step back and putting some distance between himself and the sword's point. "I think you need to put that down." When Gourry hesitated, he added, "Now."
Staring at the blade in his hand, it took a moment for Gourry to comprehend Jarix's words; all he could feel was the sword straining towards the priest, wanting to defend against the red danger that had triggered this. Confused, he nodded and forced his arm down. He managed to get the point into the scabbard and sheathe the sword, but it came close to being the hardest thing he'd ever done.
"I'm sorry, Jarix. I don't know why I did that. I - I thought you were someone else..." He trailed off and lowered himself to the floor. "I feel strange," he said.
Jarix squatted down next to the other man and carefully laid his staff on the floor. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't you; it was the sword. This is what I talking about last night: Graeswandyr is trying to control you. You can't let it do that. It responds to your emotions and thoughts." He paused. "What were you thinking of right now? When you attacked me?"
The blonde man looked up. "I was remembering another priest, one Lina and I fought...He had a staff like yours, with rings on it. The noise reminded me and then...I don't even remember moving my arm."
Nodding, Jarix sat on the floor. "You've got to keep control of the sword every moment you're holding it. Do not let it take control of you; each time you do, it will be that much harder to control the next time you use it."
Gourry shook his head. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to get the sword and be able to go get Lina right away."
"It may sound trite, but anything worth fighting for is going to be difficult. Now, I want you to get up and go through whatever exercises you do again. This time, don't let Graeswandyr rule your actions; stay aware of what you're doing and your surroundings."
"What? Now?" The blonde swordsman stared at Jarix. He was completely exhausted and didn't know if he could even lift the sword, let along resist its control.
"Yes, now."
Taking a deep breath, Gourry hauled himself to his feet. Jarix climbed to his, caught up his staff and retreated to the outer perimeter of the Temple. Drawing Graeswandyr, Gourry dropped into a ready stance and flexed his fingers around the hilt. He cleared his mind and thought of nothing else but the sword. Taking a step forward, he began the exercise.
Forward. Turn. Slash. Turn. Slash. Back.
Don't forget to breathe.
As he swung the blade, he could feel it pulling him in and felt a nearly overwhelming desire to let himself become one with the blade. It sang to him, a siren's call that promised power and danger at the same time. Now that he was aware of it, he could feel it tugging at him, wanting him. It felt familiar to him, and yet alien at the same time, as if he were holding something that had belonged to him all his life, yet was looking at it in a way he'd never bothered to before. He didn't understand how it was that a sword, an object, could have a soul, but he didn't need to understand; it simply was and that was good enough for him.
"Do not lose yourself in it, Gourry," Jarix's voice called from somewhere outside him. "Control the sword; do not let it control you."
Control it, he thought as the white metal blade sang sweetly to him. How did he control an object? Even now, he could feel himself slipping. It was exhilarating how the sword knew what he wanted it to do. It didn't have a will of its own, but rather anticipated his actions and made them manifest. He could do great things with this sword, he thought as the glittering blade passed over his head in a wide arc and split the darkness as the moonlight reflected off it into his eyes. If he just gave himself up to it -
"Control it!"
Jarix's voice jolted through him like a shock. He finished the turn and wrenched himself back into his own consciousness. Falling back onto his training, he focused himself until his will was as sharp and deadly as Graeswandyr itself. He used the familiar pattern of the exercise, steps and motions he knew by heart, to further strengthen his defense against the sword's attempts to draw him into it.
Forward. Turn. Slash. Turn. Slash. Back.
Breathe, dammit!
The sword fought him at every turn, tugging at him, trying to pull him into itself, to become one with him. But years of wielding the Sword of Light had taught him to control his will (even if he wasn't as accomplished at this as Lina was) and he fought back, maintaining his identity separate from the sword's. It was exhausting; his breathing was labored and he was grimacing in pain by the time he reached the end of the exercise. A red haze clouded his vision as the blood pounded through his veins.
He ground to a halt and dropped to his knees, his arms falling forward with his fingers still locked around Graeswandyr's hilt. The sword clanged on the smooth marble floor and bounced out of his grip. For the second time in as many hours, Gourry found himself dripping with sweat and exhausted beyond imagining. How he'd managed to do that a second time, he had no idea. Never had he pushed himself so hard; never had he felt as drained as he did right now. His entire body was shaking from exertion. He hung his head and closed his eyes and drew in great gulps of air to get enough into his lungs to stop the burning sensation there. Grimacing, he put the heels of his palms to his temples to relieve the throbbing pressure. The slight headache he had felt earlier was now a full-blown migraine.
A footstep and the soft jingle of staff rings made him look up. Jarix looked down at him with his cold, agate eyes. "Again."
Gourry stared up at the Priest. "What?" he asked dumbly.
"Pick up the sword and do it again."
"Now?" he gasped.
Jarix picked up the sword and thrust it into Gourry's hand. "Get up."
He tried to grasp the sword, but his fingers wouldn't tighten around the hilt. It lay limply across his lap. "I - "
Jarix didn't let him finish. "Get up and fight!" He lifted his staff and swung the sharpened tip at Gourry.
Without knowing how he did it, Gourry's grip on the sword tightened and he launched himself to his feet. His arms and legs felt weighted with lead, and his muscles screamed in agony, but somewhere he found the will to bring the sword up and over his head then down to block the blow. Steel rang on steel as Graeswandyr came down on the staff, knocking it aside. The blade scraped along the staff's length, throwing up sparks. Then he was forced backwards as the Priest gripped his staff in both hands and shoved hard. Quickly reversing the staff, Jarix brought the razor-sharp edge of the crescent rushing towards him.
Gourry jumped backwards and countered. Graeswandyr flashed like lighting; the clash of sword against staff rang like thunder. Jarix dropped back and swung his staff again; this time at Gourry's legs. Jumping to avoid the strike, something inside of the swordsman broke free. Twisting as he landed, he brought Graeswandyr around to attack the Priest. Blue eyes fixed on green and held them as Gourry mercilessly beat the smaller man across the chamber towards the stairs. Gourry did not waver as the sword flashed through the air too fast to follow with the human eye. Step by torturous step, the Priest was forced to retreat, barely keeping the sword from skewering him.
"Don't let it control you!" he shouted at the taller man. Sweat broke out on his brow and he strained to keep ahead of the uncannily swift strikes and parries. He had a longer reach with his staff, for which he was grateful - that and the tempered steel from which it was forged. The rings jangled discordantly as Graeswandyr beat down time and again on the shaft, sending agonizing jolts up Jarix's arms. "Gabriev!" he shouted at the crazed demon in front of him, stumbling as he tried to jump over entrance to the stairs leading down out of the Temple. "Listen to me!" He leapt across the opening in the floor, slipped and fell hard. He rolled and brought his staff up just in time to see the other man leap lightly across the same opening, his sword raised over his head. All the while, those cold, hard sapphire eyes staring impassively out of the handsome face - a face that could have been chiseled out of stone for all the emotion it registered.
"Stop!" a voice called from behind them. Jarix recognized Zelgadis' voice but dared not look away from the possessed man that loomed over him. "Gourry! Stop!"
"Zelgadis, no!" Jarix rolled again and Graeswandyr slashed down onto the marble flooring where his head had been a moment before. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his staff in front of him and breathing hard. "Don't touch him!" He ducked and hurried across the chamber, luring the swordsman away from the Chimera and the Princess at the head of the stairs. Gourry relentlessly pursued him across the slick marble.
"What's happened to him?" Amelia asked in distress. "Gourry-san, please stop!"
"He's possessed by the sword," Jarix gasped out. He yelped as Graeswandyr nicked his arm and jerked backwards. "Damn! We've got to get it away from him!"
"Leave that to me," Zelgadis said. He drew his sword and raised it. "Astral Vine." He hurried across the chamber and intercepted the sword as it flashed towards the Priest again. "Get out of the way, Jarix," he ordered. The two swords clashed and Zelgadis grunted from the shock.
Jarix wasted no time in obeying the Chimera. He got his feet under him and hared back towards the stairs to join Amelia. Together, they watched Gourry and Zelgadis battle. Zelgadis, unfortunately, was at a disadvantage as he didn't want to harm the other man, yet Gourry seemed to be under no such compulsion. They fought, swords flashing red and white. Yet, the white sword was quicker and more efficient than the red and Gourry soon drove Zelgadis back against the wall of the Temple, pinning him there with his sword raised ready to deal the deathblow. Zelgadis slumped against the glass and dropped his sword; the enchantment on the blade winked out as it hit the floor. He stared up at his friend's unseeing eyes as the white blade whistled downwards -
Amelia screamed. Jarix started forward, his eyes wide with terror. "No - " They both froze as Zelgadis raised his hands and gripped Graeswandyr's blade just above the hilt and wrenched it out of Gourry's hands.
The effect was instantaneous: Gourry dropped to his knees. Zelgadis leaned against the glass wall, still holding Graeswandyr in one hand, the other pressed to his shoulder where the sword had hit him. Amelia rushed across the chamber to him.
"Zelgadis-san!" she cried, pulling his hand away. "You're hurt!" There was a long, thin line scoring his shoulder under his slashed tunic.
"It's just a scratch," he said, though he winced. "One benefit of having a body made of stone." He looked down at the sword in his hand. That didn't stop him from letting her cast a healing spell on it.
"What kind of foolish thing was that?" Jarix demanded. "He could have killed you!"
Zelgadis looked up at him and glared. "What kind of fool thing were you doing, fighting Gourry Gabriev? He could have killed you!"
"I - " Jarix took a deep breath and looked down at the swordsman still slumped on his knees nearby. His long hair hung in sweat-soaked strands and hid his face. "I knew he was good, but I didn't realize he was that good."
"He is. Now what happened here? Why were you two fighting?" He gently covered Amelia's hand and gestured towards their friend. She nodded and went to him. While she pushed his hair out of his face and spoke quietly to him, Zelgadis fixed Jarix with a stony stare. "I thought you were going to teach him how to control Graeswandyr."
"That's what I was doing. Or it's what I was supposed to be doing. I may have pushed him too far tonight. I never expected him to have such a strong rapport with the sword. It's like the two of them have already become one being."
"Isn't that what's supposed to happen?"
"No. Gourry's got to learn to remain separate from the sword, to exert his will over the sword's, or every time he tries to use it this will happen. And this was just from my threatening him when he was already exhausted. Imagine what he'd be like when fully rested."
Zelgadis shivered; he wouldn't want to meet a rested, determined Gourry Gabriev with that sword in his hands. "All right. But I think that's enough for now." Indeed, it looked as if the man in question was already unconscious but had just forgotten to fall over.
Jarix nodded and rolled his shoulders; they were going to ache in the morning. "I agree. Let's get him downstairs. We can continue this when he comes 'round."
Zelgadis pushed against the wall. "Just as long as you don't try to do it alone again. If I'd known you were going to attempt suicide, I wouldn't have let you come up here alone." He moved to Gourry's side and took his arm while Jarix did the same on the other side. Together, they lifted the taller man between them. Amelia followed quietly behind them carrying Graeswandyr gingerly.
"Don't worry. Next time I do something like that, I want you standing there ready to jump in with that sword of yours." He grimaced as the sore muscles in his shoulders were jarred by the strain of lifting the worn-out swordsman.
"I don't know whether to be flattered or terrified," Zelgadis said. "That blow hurt. I don't want every session of yours to end like that." They entered Jarix's home and turned towards the little room which had been given to Gourry.
"Unfortunately, if they do, then there's very little chance your friend here will learn how to control the sword and it will be very little use to him in defeating this Xellos character. Let's all hope that this doesn't happen again." Carefully, they laid him on the pallet and straightened. Amelia and Zelgadis pulled off their friend's boots and covered him with his blanket. Jarix and Zelgadis were already on their way out of the little room but Amelia lingered a moment, carefully laying the shimmering white sword on the table. She bent over her friend and pushed the hair out of his face.
"You'll do it, won't you, Gourry-san?" she whispered. "You'll beat this sword and Xellos. I know you will." Squeezing his shoulder in a sisterly manner, she turned and left the room.