Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. - Following the Equator, Mark Twain
A cold wind blew through the Temple as Jarix opened the doors. It was not the chill of the thin, mountain air, but rather a spiritual chill. Amelia thought she could see a black mist creeping along the floor, questing, intangible fingers seeking living blood. The Princess drew back against the man who stood behind her. She felt his hand fall on her shoulder, a light but firm touch that spoke so much louder than any words could.
The tall swordsman stepped up to the doors and through them. He looked up at the sky; starshine turned his golden hair pale. The small woman, who's hair burned even in the faint light, followed him and stood by his side. She spurned the endless expanse of eternity, but instead gazed steadily at man who towered over her, looking like something that had fallen from heaven. Her small hand slipped into his and she laced her fingers with his. He looked down at her and smiled a taut, thin-lipped smile then turned his attention back to the heavens.
"There it is," Jarix said, pointing with his staff. The starshine picked soft highlights in his hair, now completely black with the turning of the moon to new. The four of them looked upwards, following the pointer formed by the metal crescent on his staff: There, like a hole in the sky where no stars shone through, was the Temple. It floated like a thick shadow tethered by the dark ribbon of stairs.
"Let me go with you," Lina pleaded with Gourry one more time. She'd gotten this idea while they were waiting for the night of the new moon and had yet to be dissuaded from it.
Sighing, Gourry turned to her and took her hands. "Lina, you can't go."
"Why?"
"Because we'd be trapped. I've told you that - "
"I could stay outside - "
"Do you want everything we've gone through to be for nothing?"
She glared up at him. "It won't have been! I just want to go with you to make sure you're safe! Is that so bad?"
"You're not going." Gourry's voice had a finality to it that none of them were used to hearing. "You're going to stay here and wait."
"All right, all right!" she snapped at him. "Go then!" She was about to whirl away when his hand on her arm stopped her. It was just the barest touch, incredibly gentle and delicate, but it stopped her faster than if he'd grabbed her and shaken her roughly.
"Lina." Voice pitched for her ears only, he looked deep into her eyes. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."
Breath catching in her throat, she simply stared into his eyes; they were as large and bright as the summer sky, though there were gathering thunderheads on the horizon. Storms that had not been there previous to Xellos' little trick. Her heart twisted; if those storms were ever going to clear, he needed to do this and he didn't need her making a scene. Nodding, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and laying her cheek against his armor. She felt him encircle her shoulders with his arms.
"Be careful, Gourry," she whispered. "Come back to me."
"Always," he said with a smile as he released her. Lina stepped back, thinking he was going to turn away and start up the shadowy steps, but he pulled her close again for a quick kiss. It was all too brief, and then she was alone in the chill wind. She touched her lips, still warm from his lingering kiss, as she watched him ascend those impossible stairs towards the Temple formed of shadows where no shadows should be.
Holding Graeswandyr tightly in his hand, Gourry climbed the last steps to the landing outside the Temple. The doors opened onto darkness. Where the Temple of Light had seemed shadowless, this place was like a cave. Even the starshine was blocked out by the swirling shadows that formed the walls and ceiling. The only light was that of the sword he held gripped in his hand. Swallowing hard, he stepped into the gaping maw of the doors, trying not to flinch as they swung silently shut behind him.
Gathering himself, he quickly crossed the black floor towards the solid black moonstone that hung in the center of the Temple. He stopped and looked at the sword: It was the exact opposite of Graeswandyr: Black hilt, black scabbard, black ribbons. There was even a smooth piece of onyx embedded in pommel. His skin crawled as he looked at it; this was not a sword he would ever be using in battle.
His fingers barely touched it when he felt a chill go through him. Instinct taking command, he ducked and jabbed backwards with the still sheathed Graeswandyr. He felt it connect with something solid, followed by an exclamation of air as someone gasped. Still crouching, Gourry turned Graeswandyr sideways between familiar booted feet and shoved. Knocked sideways, the Guardian found his feet entangled with the sword and tripped. Striking out with his fist, the swordsman sent his attacker sprawling.
Straightening and turning, Gourry faced the Guardian. The doppelganger rolled over and glared at Gourry while wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "Cheap shot," he muttered, grinning a villainous smile. He pushed himself to his feet and hunched over, gripping his sword loosely. "Care to try that again?" The evil grin twisted his features into something unrecognizable. Gourry had recognized himself in the other Guardian; this one, however...
Gourry shuddered. How could this horror be him? How could those black eyes be the same blue eyes that he saw each time he looked in the mirror?
And yet it was...Just as Graeswandyr's Guardian had been a distillation of everything that was good about him, this was every dark thought, every hateful word, every evil deed concentrated into a physical being.
Grimly, he drew Graeswandyr and dropped into a ready stance. "I'm sorry," he said.
The Guardian sneered at him. "Sorry? Sorry for what? Getting your sorry ass kicked by me? You can't defeat me; you need me." He took a step to the right; Gourry took a corresponding step away from him.
Gourry shook his head. "I will defeat you," he said simply. "I have to."
"You won't!" The Guardian's sword flashed; Gourry blocked it easily with Graeswandyr. His face contorted by a sneer of hatred, the reflection charged him wildly, and the swords clashed.
Brilliant light flooded through the chamber as Gourry and Graeswandyr became one. The doppelganger flinched away from the light, snarling like a wild animal. He slashed at the sword as Gourry drove it in under his guard, only barely avoiding the edge by twisting frantically out of the way. Whirling away, he raised his own sword and drove in.
Impartially, Gourry noted every fault with his form, every mis-timed step, every missed opportunity - and used them to his advantage. The reflection was still quick, however, and managed to miss most of the slashes. It wasn't long before he was breathing hard and bleeding from half a dozen wounds.
Backing away, the Guardian wiped first one hand then the other on his trousers, leaving dark streaks from the blood. "You're good. But then again, so am I."
Gourry shook his head. "Not as good as you like to think you are."
That wiped the smirk off the doppelganger's face. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm your strength! Without me you wouldn't be here! What kept you going when the Lord of Nightmares took Lina? Or when that monster stole her away?" The Guardian grinned maliciously and wiped his mouth. "She's a hot little minx, isn't she? So feisty; a regular firecat. Don't tell me you don't feel me when you're screwing her, hearing her scream? And what about all your dirty little secrets, the ones you keep from your friends? Anger, hatred, lust, lies ..." The Guardian's voice was a low-pitched hiss, smile feral. "They're all from me, and they make you strong!"
The Swordsman shook his head. "No." He took a step forward; the Guardian fell back a corresponding pace. "It wasn't you that made me strong those times. Anger..." He remembered Archand's words, as well as something his father had told him on numerous occasions, as well. "My anger at Xellos kept me from protecting Lina when he took her; it was my love for Lina that enabled me to defeat him. I love Lina; I do not lust after her. And I have no secrets."
"No!" the shadow sneered. "It was me!" The Guardian raised his black sword. "And you're lying now - to yourself," he hissed and charged. The attack went wide; all Gourry had to do was step out of the way and hit him with the flat of his sword to send him sprawling. Rolling with the blow, the Guardian righted himself and stood poised on the balls of his feet facing the Swordsman. "I'm going to kill you for that," he sneered.
Sadly, Gourry shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He took another step forward. "It's time I ended this. I'm sorry," he said again. With that, he leapt at the reflection, Graeswandyr flashing high over his head and down.
The Guardian's eyes went wide with fear and he dove to the side, slashing up and under the blow. With no apparent effort, Gourry twisted out of the way. White struck Black away to flicker in and draw crimson from the Guardian's flesh yet again.
With that same cool detachment, the Swordsman kept at the Guardian, wearing him down, forcing him back. Blood stained the burning blade of the sword, thick and crimson and clinging...
Then it was over. The Guardian moved one way and the White Sword intercepted him on its point. The blade entered the other's body, slicing through muscle and bone cleanly.
Eyes bugging, Gourry's reflection dropped his sword and grasped the blade of the sword that had interrupted his heart's beating, not noticing the deep slashes that appeared on his hands from the sharp edges. He glared at Gourry over the hilt; a line of dark red blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as he coughed up blood. "I hope you can live with yourself," he said as he spat out the blood onto Gourry's hands. "With your own blood on your hands." With that, his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped off the length of the sword to the floor to lie in a pool of quickly congealing blood.
The glow of the sword dimmed and Gourry found himself alone in his head again. He stood there, holding Graeswandyr in one slack hand while he stared down at the body of the Guardian at his feet. Unable to just leave the man there, he dropped to one knee and placed the sword on the floor. He reached out and rolled the Guardian onto his back and folded his hands over his chest and tried not to look into those black eyes that were so familiar and yet so strange. Even so, just as Graeswandyr's Guardian had been, this was a part of himself and he'd destroyed it. There'd been some truth to what the Guardian had said earlier, but had been wrong about being his strength. His strength lay in the good part of himself. His ability to endure came from his darker side.
He couldn't mourn the destruction of what was good about him without mourning the destruction of the dark. They were what made him what he was. Closing his eyes as the tears leaked out onto his cheeks, he wondered if he would ever be the same again.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he caught up Graeswandyr and sheathed it. Crossing the chamber, he reached up for Skädwe.
The Black sword leapt into his hand and he immediately felt sick to his stomach. Gripping the hilt, he pulled the blade out partway and knew why: This sword had been forged from black mithril, used by the dark elves. His whole being rejected what this blade represented. His hands ached and burned where they touched it; he could feel the metal even through the scabbard and the leather wrappings. Black mithril was poison to elves; it was something anyone with even the least drop of elven blood in their veins learned at an early age. He could feel it in his head, behind his eyes; it poisoned the mind as well as flesh. Quickly sheathing the sword, he left the Temple.
"There he is!" Amelia shouted, pointing upwards.
All of them scrambled to their feet and crowded around the open doors. "Already?" Zel asked. "It's only been a couple hours."
"Let's take it as a good sign," Jarix said softly.
They waited anxiously, but none so anxiously as Lina. She stood to the side, separate from the group and kept her eyes on Gourry's form as he descended the stairs to the Temple's landing. The others watched her closely.
As he reached the landing, the swordsman stumbled. "Gourry!" Lina leapt forward to catch him. One dark-stained hand caught her shoulder but he forced himself to stand on his own. She looked into his face; his brows were drawn together in pain. "What - ?"
He shook his head, eyes still closed and the corners of his mouth turned downward, and held up the sword. All of them, including Lina, drew away in horror and disgust from the Black blade and the evil aura it gave off.
"What is that thing?" Lina gasped. "It's...horrible."
Jarix felt icy fingers run up his spine. This was not a sword he wanted to be close to when it was drawn. Shuddering, his mind rebelled at the thought of someone merging with it as Gourry had with Graeswandyr. Such a thing would be horrific indeed. He looked carefully at Gourry, hands unconsciously clenching on his staff, grateful for the razor sharp edge on the crescent. Hoping he wouldn't need to use it, he thought as he watched the tall blonde man closely.
"Skädwe," was all Gourry said. His voice was hollow.
Lina's head snapped around and she stepped back up to his side. "What's wrong, Gourry?" she asked, her voice strained. He lowered his head and shook it. It was only then that she could see that he was in pain. Looking down at the metallic obscenity he'd named Skädwe, she noticed first the blood then the raising welts on his hands. "Oh, Ceiphied!" she cried and grabbed his wrists. "You're hurt!" Her hand brushed the sword and she recoiled from its malevolence.
"No, Lina, don't." He pulled away only to stagger and nearly fall to his knees. "Have to get - "
Then Jarix was there, shoving his staff into Lina's hands. "It's the sword; it's poisoning him. We need to get him into the Temple quickly," he said, slinging Gourry's arm over his shoulder. Zelgadis moved to Gourry's other side and took that arm. Together the two men helped the swordsman over to the moonstone. Amelia and Lina followed quickly, Lina clutching Jarix's staff tightly.
Unsteadily, he lifted the sword and placed the Black Sword in the dark half of the moonstone. It settled into the groove willingly; the stone seemed to darken and lose it's solidity. Once the sword was out of his grasp, Gourry recovered somewhat; he stepped away from the stone and pointedly avoided looking at it.
"I am Skädwe." Everyone turned at the sound of that gentle-sounding voice. Facing them, dressed in all black, was an exact copy of Gourry - just as Graeswandyr had been. Only this was a Gourry that none of them had ever seen. Oh, he looked no different from their friend: The same handsome features; wide, open eyes; beautific smile; tall, strong body. Golden hair fell like a silken cloak behind black armor and clothing while powerful and shapely hands rested quietly on the pommel of the black sword that stood point downwards on the floor between his feet...Only, there was an imperceptible twist to the smile that they never saw in Gourry's; a dark light in the eyes that had never illuminated Gourry's even when he was at his angriest. The phantom seemed to shine in the darkened Temple as he stood before them placid and serene - and indescribably evil. Beautiful and deadly; a lucifer vision of a fallen Archangel. "What do you wish of me?"
Gourry stared, still a little groggy from the effects of the black mithril. Shaking his head, he drew himself up. "I'd like my soul back." He unbuckled Graeswandyr from his sword belt and turned to go around to the other side of the stone.
"Is that really what you want?" the phantom in black asked him, his voice smooth and calm.
The swordsman's head snapped around. "Of course it is. I want to be the way I was before all this happened." He rounded the stone.
"No. I am a part of you; I know your hidden desires. There's something more you want." Those phthalo blue eyes never wavered from Gourry's face nor did the slight half-smile slip.
The blonde man stopped and turned to face his reflection. "What more can I want than to be myself again?" he demanded.
The phantom cocked his head and looked at Gourry levelly. "What if you could be certain you could protect your loved ones from harm - forever?"
Gourry blinked slowly. "What? What are you talking about?"
"Think about how it felt to wield Graeswandyr," the spirit of the Black sword said, holding out a clenched fist. "The power it gave you. You defeated a high-level Mazoku with that sword." The elation on his face practically lit up the chamber. He took a few steps towards Gourry. "I can give you that power, Gourry, and more." He paused and Gourry found the phantom staring him in the eye with undisguised glee. "I can give you immortality."
"You can?" Gourry asked, suspiciously. "How? Graeswandyr can't do that."
The phantom shook his golden head. "That's because Graeswandyr isn't as powerful as I am."
Jarix moved forward. "That's not true. Each sword is equal and opposite - "
"You know nothing, little Priest," Skädwe sneered imperiously without taking his eyes from Gourry's clear blue ones. "You know only what your books tell you, half of which is wrong. Now quit meddling in things you don't understand."
The force of Skädwe's evil aura forced Jarix backwards. "No," he said, shaking his head, but his confidence was badly shaken. "It's still not true."
"Gourry," Lina called, still clutching Jarix's crescent staff. She stepped forward, but found her knees shaking as she approached the manifestation of the sword's spirit. "Gourry!"
The swordsman was oblivious to her. He stared at the phantom as if hypnotized. "Graeswandyr said to restore the Balance within myself, I had to win both swords..."
"And you have. You are Balanced and can remain so. I can give you powers you never dreamed of. With me in your hand, you could become invincible. No one could touch you. You and Lina would be safe from all harm whether it's Mazoku, Dark Lord or the Lord of Nightmares herself. You'd be safe - forever." Skädwe's grin was seductive.
"Gourry! Don't listen!" Lina started forward again, but Skädwe's eyes flickered to her and she gasped, sinking to her knees as she felt a wave of pure hatred flow out from the apparition. Jarix was also on his knees, head bowed against the malevolent atmosphere surrounding Gourry and Skädwe.
"Gourry-san! Please!" Amelia was by Lina's side, trying to help her up, but becoming overwhelmed as well. Zelgadis crouched by the two women, hands on their shoulders.
"Gourry! Look what he's doing!" he gasped as he choked on the thick, noxious atmosphere Skädwe was generating. "Look!"
But like a bird hypnotized by a snake's stare, Gourry was caught. He was aware of nothing but those blue eyes boring into his, looking directly into the hidden recesses of his soul, unearthing his darkest desires and bringing them into the light. Into the light for him to see what he'd been hiding from himself. "Could you do that? Could I do that, I mean? Make sure I was always there to protect Lina? Against anything?"
Skädwe reached out and took Gourry by the arm to lead him around to the dark side of the stone. "You could do that and more. You'd be together forever. Just take the sword out of the stone."
"Gourry, please, no..." Lina pleaded. She, Amelia and Zelgadis slumped forward together into a tangled pile, overwhelmed by the sword's influence. Jarix's staff hit the floor with a discordant jangle. The priest himself lay unmoving on the floor, staring at the two blonde haired men with unseeing eyes.
Gourry stared at the sword. His hands twitched. The thought of being able to protect Lina from anything...The way he'd felt when he and Graeswandyr were one had been exhilarating, knowing he couldn't be beaten...What would it be like to feel like that ten times over, Skädwe's voice said in his head.
The swordsman extended his arm towards the sword. He could protect Lina from anything.
Yes. From Death himself, it sang. Just take the sword...
His hand drifted nearer. The sword hung invitingly inside the solidified shadow that the dark half of the moonstone had become. To be able to be with Lina forever, keep her safe from anything, to really be her protector, not just in name...
Take it and no one will ever call you stupid, or mistake you for an idiot again...
He froze, hand hovering just over the blade, so close he could feel the poison of the black mithril in his elven flesh.
They'd have to respect you, Gourry Gabriev, Master of Skädwe. Or they would suffer...
"What do I have to do?" he asked aloud of the phantom standing by his side and whispering in his ear.
"Do? You don't have to do anything. Just take the sword, become one with it..."
Gourry dropped his hand. "No," he said as backed away. He looked around and saw his friends lying unconscious on the floor. Lina's crimson hair spilled over the black and white tiled floor like a smear of blood. "No!" he shouted.
Skädwe's face hardened. "You're throwing away a great opportunity," he said. "I'm not going to offer it to you again. You could be a great swordsman. Better than any the world has ever known. Your name would be known far and wide as Master of Skädwe and people would fear you."
Gourry shook his head. "I don't want to be feared. And the only thing I want to be known as is Lina's husband and protector."
"Then you're going to die." Skädwe lifted the blade he held in his hands and faced Gourry. "And you can't defeat me."
"I don't have to." Using his lightning reflexes, he ducked under the stone and brought Graeswandyr up and slapped it into the white half of the stone. He could hear the black blade buzzing through the air, headed right for him and he ducked down -
A flash of white intercepted the splinter of night and stopped it cold. Gourry looked up and found Graeswandyr standing over him, holding back Skädwe's blow with his own white sword. The two swords, equally balanced, faced off against one another. Skädwe's pleasant façade broke and he snarled and jumped backward. Graeswandyr did not follow, but stood poised to react should the other attack again.
Gourry turned his attention to the tiny woman slumped on the floor nearby. He crossed the distance to her and gathered her up into his arms. "Lina," he called to her, cradling her. "Wake up, Lina."
Her eyelids fluttered and she opened them. "Gourry!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "Are you - "
"Not yet." He stood, still holding her close. He turned to face the two swords made manifest in his form. "I want my soul back. I want to be myself again," he said.
Graeswandyr nodded and lowered his sword. "That is your right. The Balance in the Stone has been restored; we are bound by your wishes." He began to fade away
"No!" Skädwe shouted. "I won't go back!" But he, too, started to fade away. Soon both manifestations were gone.
Jarix sat up, just as Amelia and Zelgadis were also stirring. "What's happening?" he asked, putting a hand to his head. He reached out and grabbed his staff and used it to help himself stand. Zelgadis climbed to his knees and held out a hand to Amelia.
"Look!" Lina said, pointing at the moonstone. Everyone froze and looked. The stone began to rotate on its central axis, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. Two shapes detached themselves from the spinning stone, one black and one white. Amorphous, they spun around each other, merging and melting. Suddenly, without warning, it sped towards Gourry, encasing him in a thick fog. He threw his head back and screamed while sinking to his knees. The shape surrounded him, the outlines melting and changing until it settled into a shell identical to the swordsman before it contracted and disappeared into the man. Slumping forward, Gourry did not hear Lina scream his name or feel the tiled floor come racing up to connect painfully with his cheek.