And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Rage and shame that Amelia should be treated in such a manner sprang up inside him. Pushing his way through the crowd, he reached out and snagged her hands away from the next hopeful partner, pulling the girl into his arms, using them as a shield to keep away all the others who saw only the Princess and not the girl she was underneath. The girl he'd seen face Mazoku and Dark Lords with an inner strength that very few people knew she possessed. The girl who he'd worked with so many times it felt natural and was something he came to look forward to and enjoy. The girl he'd seen die -- twice -- and come back to life. He stopped dead in his tracks and refused to move, keeping her close to his body, knowing that for once this freakish body of his could do what he most wanted to do at the moment: Protect her.
"It's all right, Amelia," he whispered, covering her hair with his hand and tucking her head underneath his chin. Lightly he stroked her hair as he held her to him. "I won't let them hurt you any more." He felt her arms go around his waist and something inside him melted at her touch.
"So you've made your decision?"
Zelgadis looked up at Coyote, who approached as the surging crowd around them dispersed, leaving him and Amelia, Coyote, and Lina and Gourry behind him standing in a loose group. To the side and away from them all stood the Queen of Diamonds.
"What decision?"
"The one we were talking about," Coyote said, holding up the red crown. "Have you chosen Hearts over Diamonds?"
"I -- " He paused. How could he make a decision like that? What kind of decision were they wanting him to make, anyway? Couldn't they understand that he had to choose Diamonds so that he would have the option of choosing Hearts later? In his arms Amelia stiffened. The Chimera looked down at her as she dropped her arms, slid them between the two of them and pushed away. Puzzled, he looked into her stony eyes as she backed away from him, an accusing look on her face. "Amelia, please ... " he started, holding out a hand to her. "Please, try to understand ... "
Before he could any go further, she shook her head, then stepped backwards into darkness. Startled, Zelgadis whirled around wildly, searching the darkness. While he'd been captivated by Amelia's suddenly cold eyes, the scenery had disappeared and so had the representations of his friends. He stood alone in a cone of light that shone down on him from above. Silence as thick and deafening as thunder engulfed him.
"What's going on here?" he shouted, but that blanketing silence murdered his words and laid them to rest in shallow graves.
"Order!!" a voice bellowed out of the darkness. Another spotlight came on, illuminating a large, rather hirsute man dressed in black and red motley. Zelgadis groaned at the site of him. Things just kept getting weirder and he didn't need this right now ...
"Order in the court!" Phil shouted again, raising the staff he held and bringing it down three times. "The Royal Court of Justice is now in order! All rise for her Royal Honor, Princess Amelia Wil Tesla de Seyruun!" Behind him, more spotlights came on, illuminating a double row of chairs. Seated upon the chairs were some of the masked party-goers, namely those who'd been dancing with Amelia before Zelgadis had put a stop to that. Their masks, grotesque earlier, bordered on horrific now as they'd been painted half-black, half-white.
As a body they rose and began chanting, "Here comes the Judge! Here comes the Judge! Ev'rybody knows that here comes the Judge!" They continued chanting as more lights came on, illuminating a raised stand and Amelia as she walked towards it. She avoided looking at either the party-goers, her father or Zelgadis as she climbed the steps and took her seat on the stand. Lifting the gavel she brought it down hard on the desk in front of her. "Silence!" she shouted. The jury immediately ceased their chanting and sat down.
She turned her attention to Zelgadis. The Chimera found himself quaking under that intense gaze; never had he seen Amelia so cold and distant. "What's going on here, Amelia?" he shouted, stepping forward.
Phil moved forward, lowering his staff in front of Zelgadis. "The Defendant will remain silent until he is given permission by the Court to speak."
"Defendant? What -- ?"
BANG! Amelia's gavel smashed down on the desk. "What part of silent do you not understand, Zelgadis Greywers?" Without giving him time to answer, she looked at her father. "Call the first case!"
Phil banged his staff. "The People vs Zelgadis Greywers."
"Wait a minute!" Zelgadis shouted. "I demand to know what's going on here!"
"Out of order!" Amelia's shout was punctuated by another bang from her gavel. "The Prosecutor will read the charges!"
Out of the darkness stepped a figure that Zelgadis had hoped never to see again. "My Honor, the Defendant is accused of becoming the very thing he seeks to cure about himself. That he has lost every shred of the humanity that he claims to cling to and is no more than a freak. A demon. A monster." Amethyst eyes regarded him from underneath a fringe of purple hair.
"Damn you!" Zelgadis shouted. "It's not true! I am not a monster!"
"How can you be so sure?" Xellos asked, stepping forward and circling him like a vulture. "You're cold, hard and unloving. You reject your friends and embrace the very things that makes you a freak. You hate. You hate yourself and your friends. You deny that you have feelings, instead preferring to be thought of as 'cold and heartless.'" The grin that Xellos gave him when he'd come around to face him again was feral. "Much like a Mazoku, don't you think?"
Zelgadis took a step backwards, putting some distance between himself and the purple-haired priest. "You disgust me," he said in a low growl.
"And you amuse me," Xellos said. Turning with a swirl of his cloak, the Mazoku approached the bench, and bowed extravagantly to Amelia. "So you see, Your Honor, the Defendant stopped being human long ago."
"Now just wait a minute!" Zelgadis blurted out.
Amelia struck the bench with her gavel. "Silence! How does the Jury find the Defendant?"
Everyone looked towards the white-and-black masked jury, including Zelgadis. As he watched agape, they started another chant: "Guilty, guilty, guilty ... " Quiet at first, but it grew in volume by the final pronouncement.
"Now just wait a damned minute!!" Zelgadis shouted again. "What kind of trial is this? WHY am I on trial anyway? Amelia, are you just going to accept this?"
"SILENCE!" Amelia shouted with another strike of her gavel. Her eyes were cold and hard as stone. She turned to Xellos. "Do you have witnesses?"
Bowing yet again, Xellos held out an elegantly gloved hand. "Right here, Your Honor." Straightening, he called, "Bring out the Character Witnesses!"
From the other side of the bench, another light appeared. Inside was a figure. Zelgadis gaped at her. "Lina?"
She looked at him sadly. "Sorry, Zel," Lina said. She was still in her Queen of Swords ensemble and looked very eerie dressed all in black. Her crimson hair fairly bled into the darkness.
"Lina Inverse, Bandit Killer," Xellos said. "How would you describe the Defendant?"
"He leaves in the middle of the night. He refuses to let us help him when it's inconvenient to him. He won't listen to anyone." She paused then piped up again. "Oh, and he threw me into a tree."
Xellos looked at Zelgadis. "You threw her into a tree? And you say you're not a monster!" He applauded the Chimera.
"Stop it! I did it to distract Rezo! I did it to save the two of us! I didn't mean for her to hit the tree -- I was going to try and catch her, but -- " He looked downward. "The tree had other ideas."
"You claim to have done this to save the two of you from your dearly departed grandfather. And yet, you only did that to find out where she had hidden the statue containing the piece of the Philosopher's Stone with which you intended to destroy your grandfather?"
"All right, so I didn't save her with the best of intentions. Still, I did save her, right?"
"Beside the point." Xellos quickly dismissed Zelgadis' comment and plunged along. "Next Witness: Gourry Gabriev."
A second cone of light appeared to illuminate the swordsman. Unlike Lina, he was no longer wearing his King of Swords costume from earlier. Instead -- Zelgadis looked at his friend in puzzlement. Gourry was dressed all in black, save for a startling white vee formed by a black vest over a starched white shirt. A black frock coat that came to his knees covered black trousers that he wore over his boots instead of stuffed into them as he habitually wore them. Around his neck he wore a thin, black string tie and a black top hat covered his golden hair. What surprised him most, though, was the sword strapped around his waist and under the long frock coat. The Chimera recognized that triple pronged hilt: It was the Sword of Light. Which had gone back with Serius to the Overworld. So what was it doing in his dream? He shuddered; did it matter? It was all just a freaky dream anyway. Still ... there was something slightly morbid about seeing Gourry dressed like this but he couldn't quite fathom out the reason why.
"Tell me, Gourry," Xellos was saying in a smooth, amiable voice. "What is your impression of Zelgadis here?"
"Oh, I dunno," the tall blonde said. "He's not so bad, I guess. Except, like Lina said, he's always trying to sneak off and leave us behind when we just want to help." He gave Zelgadis a curious look. "Did you really throw Lina into a tree?"
Exasperated, Zelgadis threw up his hands. "Yes! I threw Lina into a tree! I admit it! There? Happy now?" He rounded on Xellos. "Is that what this is all about?"
Amelia smacked her gavel against the bench. "You will refrain from such outbursts in my court!" she shouted. Lowering it in his direction, she said, "One more outburst like that and I'll have you slapped in irons for contempt of court! Mr Prosecutor?
"Yes, Your Honor?"
"Do you have any other witnesses or arguments?"
"No, Your Honor. The Prosecution rests."
"Very well. How does the jury find the Defendant?"
Again the jury started its ominous chant: "Guilty, guilty, guilty!"
The gavel came smashing down on the bench -- this time silence followed. Everyone turned to Amelia and waited expectantly. Even Zelgadis found himself holding his breath while he waited to see what would happen next.
Amelia rose and descended from the bench, came around and walked up to Zelgadis. Even though he had to look down at her, he found himself intimidated by her demeanor. "Do you have anything to say before I pass judgment?" she said in a low, even voice.
"Amelia -- "
"Nope, sorry! Too late." She turned around and looked at the jury. "Your final verdict?"
The jury slowly rose from their seats, starting that same chant as if they possessed only one word in their combined vocabulary. "Guilty, guilty, guilty ... " Leaned forward, they all raised their fists and shook them in time with the chant. "Guilty, guilty, guilty!"
"No!" he shouted. He took a step towards Amelia, reaching for her. "Stop this!"
She whirled around before he could touch her and drew away. "You heard the verdict, Zelgadis Greywers," Xellos said, interposing himself between the Princess and Zelgadis. "What is your sentence, Your Honor?"
Amelia stared at Zelgadis, meeting his eyes with a cool detachment. "Off with his head."
Dumbfounded, Zelgadis could only stare at her in complete disbelief. His mouth worked silently before he managed to get out, "What?"
"OFF WITH HIS HEAD!"
Her shout rang through the darkness and echoed eerily back and forth, repeating that same dread statement over and over. Behind Amelia, the masked jury stepped down out of the box and began advancing towards the two of them. Staring at them over Amelia's head, Zelgadis felt the familiar burn of betrayal inside his chest. Turning blazing eyes on Amelia, he struggled with the pain that threatened to strangle him. "Why, Amelia? Why?"
She shook her head. "Isn't this how you want us to act, Zelgadis-san? Treating you as the cold, heartless person that you are? Well, you've got your wish. You want us to persecute you for your 'freakish' looks, we'll damn well do the best job we can do. Time to carry out the sentence. Mr Executioner?"
"Yes, Your Honor?"
Zelgadis' eyes snapped to the tall blonde who had stepped up behind the tiny princess. "Gourry ... " he whispered, not believing what his eyes were showing him. The swordsman's face was a mask and his eyes hard with distaste.
"If you please," Amelia said, stepping to the side and out of the way. Zelgadis took a step backwards as the other man reached to his hip and drew his sword. Only the hilt came away in his hand; the steel blade remained ensconced within the scabbard. He held it out, gripping it with both hands, just as the Chimera had seen him do on numerous occasions.
Fear gripped his insides as he watched Gourry. That weapon -- the only thing in this world that could wound him -- in those hands. Hands belonging to the best swordsman in the world -- were a nightmare combination separate from any dream. Taking another step back, back away from the swordsman, he held out his own hands. "Gourry, come on. What are you doing?" The swordsman advanced, leaning forward with his weight on the balls of his feet. Zelgadis knew from personal experience the other man could turn either way in a blink of an eye. "I'm your friend."
Gourry shook his head, setting that long golden hair of his to swinging dramatically. "No, Zel," he said. "You're no one's friend. You've betrayed us -- "
"Betrayed you?" the Chimera gasped in disbelief. Anger surged up and he gripped his own sword, though he knew his skills and sword were useless against this man's. "You're the ones that have betrayed me! I thought you were my friends!"
"We were. We tried to be. You pushed us away once too often."
Snarling, Zelgadis yanked his sword out of the scabbard. "I always knew it would come to this," he rasped out, looking from Gourry to Amelia to Lina who had come up to stand on Amelia's other side. "I trusted you and look what it's gotten me." Eyes flicking back to the black-clad swordsman, he held his sword out at the ready, crouching into a guard position. "I'm not as good a swordsman as you, but you'll find it a bit harder than you think to take me." He raised his arms and prepared to leap forward and strike at the swordsman --
Hands grabbed him and pulled his arms down. "What the -- " he shouted and turned to see the masked jurors gathered around him, pressing in on him. They pried his sword from his fingers and it fell useless to the ground as they forced him to his knees. Though he fought against them, his strength seemed to seep from his muscles, leached out by the hands that gripped him, leaving him weak and defenseless. He roared his defiance and yet was unable to break their hold on him.
Weeping with frustration, Zelgadis watched helpless as Gourry stepped forward. He caught those steely blue eyes with his own and held them. They remained cold as the swordsman lifted the hilt of his sword and spoke softly. "Light come forth." They were barely audible in the silence and yet Zelgadis heard them perfectly.
The Chimera's eyes snapped to the sword hilt. The familiar blazing blade formed of pure energy shot out and took shape. The bright, incandescent light lit up the darkness and blinded him to everything else save the sword and the man holding it.
"Gourry!" he pleaded, struggling uselessly against those hands that gripped him mercilessly. "Listen to me!"
"No, Zelgadis," the other man said, lifting the sword in both hands. "The sentence has been passed and it's my duty to carry it out." Even as he spoke, the hilt of the Sword of Light lengthened, twisting and snaking out into a tall, straight pole nearly as tall as Gourry himself. The light blade changed shape, too, thickening, curving and twisting until it came out at right angles to the misshapen hilt. Gourry lifted the transformed sword in both hands, swinging it in a loose circle, the now curved blade painting an arc of light upon the darkness before he brought it to a rest, butt down and close to his foot and handle held at an angle. The blade curved downward to a wicked point while the edge glowed blue. Zelgadis could do nothing but stare in disbelief up at the man he'd once thought to call 'friend.' "I'm sorry, Zelgadis," Gourry said, once again raising the scythe and gripping it with both hands in front of himself while he stood with his feet planted apart. He nodded to the men holding Zelgadis.
Hands forced his head forward and down while others pulled his arms behind him. He struggled, desperate to get away, to get free. Two black boots stepped into his field of vision: Gourry's boots. The blazing blade of the scythe swished mere inches away from his face as Gourry swung it around again. Panic gripped the Chimera and his struggles increased. He had to break free! He had to get away!
And yet, he failed to throw them off. They held him still as the Executioner stepped closer. Zelgadis could hear the humming of the scythe as it traveled upwards again. His insides went cold as he could hear it slicing through the very air. At the zenith of its pass, it paused a moment before the swordsman brought it down in a great swinging arc -- he knew without seeing straight for his neck. He could feel it!
With a roar dredged from the very depths of his soul, all his pain, terror and despair given voice, he shoved himself backwards out of the scythe's path. His masked captors fell off him in surprise and he was free. Yet he had only a second before that blazing scythe cleaved the air so close that he felt the heat of the blade on his face. Something brushed his hand. Looking down, he saw that the scythe had sliced through some of his hair.
Scrambling backwards, Zelgadis managed to get to his feet under him and stand facing the vengeful Angel of Death, standing tall and dark and made of nightmares as he held the blazing scythe in sure, strong hands. The length of his hair lay over his black coat like a golden halo, and those blue eyes burned. Raising the scythe, he took a step forward. "This will be a lot easier if you don't fight, Zelgadis," he said, though he sounded pained.
"I am not going to stand here and let you kill me, Gourry Gabriev!" Zelgadis shouted at the swordsman.
"You have no choice, Zel," Gourry said, swinging the scythe again.
"Like hell I don't," Zelgadis panted, backing away from the swordsman. The jurors had scattered, leaving him isolated. He looked around wildly as he sought escape. "This is a fucking dream, gods damn it! That's all!"
"A dream, yes, but that doesn't make it any less real," a voice said from beside him.
Zelgadis whirled to face his tormentor. "You're really starting to annoy me, Coyote," he snarled then twisted out of the way to avoid Gourry's next slash with his scythe. "This is nothing but a dream. Gourry doesn't even have the Sword of Light any more!"
"Then what are you so worried about?" Coyote said from where he was leaning against a wall, arms folded across his chest. "If it's just a dream, you don't have to worry if your friend here kills you, do you?" He nodded to Gourry, who wheeled the scythe, his hands sure and comfortable on the handle just as they were on a hilt of a sword.
Zelgadis backed away from Coyote, from the maddened swordsman and from the two women who stood there impassively watching. His eyes found Amelia's and the contempt he saw there made him cry out physically. Whirling away from those eyes he fled into the darkness not knowing which way he was going, only knowing that he had to get away from Gourry, away from Coyote and most of all away from the horrible thing that looked at him through Amelia's eyes.
He ran like he'd never run before, using all his demon speed. The darkness blurred on either side but he was not paying attention to it. As long as he put as much distance as possible between himself and those horrible parodies of the people he called his friends. This was a dream, they were not real, this was a dream, he kept repeating over and over to himself like a mantra as he ran. They were not real! She was not real!
Finally his strength gave out and he stumbled and fell to the ground. Crouched on all fours, he hung his head and let the sobs wrack his body. Blind with rage, he struck the ground with balled fists, putting all his strength behind the blows. How dare they? How dare they?! Over and over he beat upon the defenseless ground, letting all his pent-up frustrations spill over.
Eventually, his rage and anger dissipated, leaving him empty and cold. "How could they?" he asked of the darkness, not expecting an answer.
Scrubbing at his face, Zelgadis pushed himself to his feet to trudge on into the darkness. He had no idea where he was going or even why he was bothering if this was all just a dream. It shouldn't matter what he did. He supposed he could just sit there and wait for it to end, but that wasn't his way. He had to do something.
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost
Time had no meaning in this dark world of dreams and how long he trudged along he didn't know. The only thing he did know was that he was incredibly relieved when he spotted something in the distance. Picking up his pace, he hurried towards the bright spot ahead.
As he approached, he could make out several rectangular panels hanging in the darkness with no visible means of support. The closer he got, the more curious he became. Only when he arrived in their midst could he not believe his eyes. They were mirrors, at least a dozen of them, distorted and bent, throwing back false images of himself.
The air shifted behind him and he whirled around to find the mirrors had formed a ring around him. No matter which way he turned, he was confronted by a distorted image of himself. Some were rippled, others curved to give him the appearance of being grotesquely fat or thin, tall or short.
Disgusted, he averted his eyes. He didn't need more reminders that his appearance was less than perfect. Head down, he headed for the opening between two of the mirrors. A rush of air was all the warning received before the nearest mirror came flying around to block his path. Throwing himself to the side, he narrowly escaped being brained.
He regained his footing and backed away and tried again -- and again the circle of mirrors shifted to block his escape. Dodging them, he tried to slip under them, but they simply dropped to the ground and cut off his escape that way, too.
"I'm not getting any happier," he muttered under his breath as he tried dodging through another opening. No good; the mirrors simply shifted again and kept him corralled. Raising his hands, Zelgadis took another tack: He brought his balled fists down on the surface of the rippled mirror that had just kept him from escaping the ring of mirrors.
Surprisingly, it shattered under his blow. Thrown somewhat off-balance, Zelgadis could do more than stare in disbelief. He hadn't expected the mirror to shatter quite so easily. However, the remaining mirrors shifted to fill the gap and another slid into place in front of him.
He had the answer, however. He raised his fists and brought them down on the new mirror, smashing it into glittering pieces just like the first one. Before they had even stopped tinkling on the ground at his feet, he was smashing through the next one that blocked his path. And more silvered glass fell, splintered, to the ground.
Finally there were only two mirrors left. As one slid in front of him to block him, Zelgadis raised his hands to smash it, but something stopped him. He looked closely at he mirror in disbelief. This mirror was not distorted as the other ones were, but instead threw back a perfect reflection of himself. Only ...
The Chimera took an unsteady step back, away from the apparition in the mirror. Instead of mimicking his movements, the reflection gazed at him levelly out of deep blue eyes. Only, the face out of which those eyes looked was not blue-skinned or covered with rocks. It was human!
Shock kept his feet rooted to the ground for several moments as he stared at the reflection of himself as a human. Then, with great trepidation, he reached out towards the mirror and the reflection. Could it be ... ? His fingers touched the glass and he laid his hand upon it flat, fingers splayed. He nearly wept as he gazed into those eyes, those human eyes.
As he ran his hand along the surface of the glass, there was a slight change in the reflection's expression. The cold expression warmed and the lips curled upwards in a smile. Zelgadis smiled in return, his breath catching in his throat. Could this be his cure? The purpose of this horrible, horrible dream? To help him find his cure? It had to be. But then ... if it was, what was it? What was his cure? How did he become human again?
He opened his mouth to ask that of his reflection but stopped cold as those eyes turned red and burned from within. The smile widened and the lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of sharp fangs. They, in turn, parted and a long, thin tongue flickered out and towards Zelgadis.
Horror and shock made him take a step back before he realized the thing could not touch him. He stood there, shaken to his core as he stared at the reflection straining to get at him through the glass. "No ... " he whispered, shaking his head in denial of what he saw. "NO!" He brought his fists up and down on the glass, shattering that hideous reflection of himself looking like a human but a monster inwardly.
Before those shards had a chance to come to a rest, the last mirror swung into his path. He almost struck this one down without even looking at it, but a shouted word caused him to halt. Staring at the mirror, he saw a perfect reflection of himself -- as the Chimera that he loathed -- holding out its hands and pleading with him.
"Wait!" it said.
"Why should I?" Zelgadis growled, lowering his fists but not unclenching them.
"Because if you destroy me, you destroy your last chance of survival."
"And what makes you so certain of that? Just who are you?"
"Don't you recognize me? I'm you."
Zelgadis shook his head. "No. You're not me. You're a reflection."
"I'm what you can become," the reflection said. "We were all reflections of what you could become. You've got several different paths in front of you, Zelgadis. We're the results."
"I don't believe you," he said. "This is just a dream."
"Isn't there some truth to dreams?"
"Not enough that I'm willing to believe them." He raised his fists.
"Stop! You can't do this!"
"I can and I will."
"You'll destroy any chance you have of becoming human again!"
"I don't believe you!" And he brought his fists down on the glass, shattering that reflection.
The darkness behind the mirror boiled blood red, like blood pouring forth from an open wound. Zelgadis fell backwards with a scream as the blood reached out for him and grabbed his arms and legs. The bloody appendages grasped him firmly and dragged him forward into their midst. The blood surrounded him, forcing its way into his mouth, choking off his screams and sobbing pleas for help ... Thrashing, the young man ripped with all his strength at the bloody bonds that held him. His fingers passed through them, and yet the rents healed immediately. With strength born of desperation, he ripped at them, shredding the blood-colored robes that pulled him closer and closer to the central nexus.
Everything went quiet and the bloody robes dropped lifeless from his hands and legs. Zelgadis lay breathless in a twisted pile of rent crimson fabric. A slippered foot stepped into his field of vision and he raised his head and looked up and up and up --
"Are you beginning to understand, Zelgadis?" the tall priest asked. Tears of blood streaked his face and those storm dark eyes regarded him sadly.
"Understand what?" Zelgadis demanded of his grandfather. "That you turned me into a monster?"
"No. That you're turning yourself into a monster."
"Damn you! How dare you say that to me!" He scrambled to his feet and stared at the man who had been his grandfather. The bloody robes clung to him and twisted around his feet. "You're the one that turned me into a monster! You ruined my life!"
Rezo bowed his head as a flash of pain twisted his features. "It's true. I cannot deny turning your body into stone, but I had nothing to do with turning you into a monster. You've done that all by yourself with no help from me."
"What kind of nonsense is that?!" Zelgadis shouted. "What kind of fucking nonsense are you trying to babble at me now? I haven't turned myself into anything! I just want to be human again!"
"There's more to being human than just having a human body, Zelgadis," Rezo said, raising his head and fixing his grandson with a sorrowful look. "You lose more and more of that everyday that you deny that you have human needs and emotions. Look at yourself." Rezo gestured at Zelgadis' hands.
The Chimera looked downwards, holding out his hands. Where he thought Rezo's clinging red robes had entrapped him, he saw instead that he was gripping them tightly until the fabric strained under his touch. With a guilty start, he dropped them and they slithered away from him.
"You see? You cling to the illusion that I was the one solely responsible for your transformation. It's true that I gave you reason enough to hate me and what your body became, but you gave yourself reason to hate yourself and the rest of humanity. Even now, you cling to the illusion that you are innocent of everything that has made you the way you are." The tall priest stepped forward and put his hand on Zelgadis' shoulder. The Chimera tried to jerk backwards, away from his grandfather, but the dream image would not be shaken so easily. His hand on Zelgadis' shoulder was like a weight that kept him immobile. Unable to move, Zelgadis could only stare up at his grandfather, the man he'd hated for so many years -- hated what had become of the man he'd loved for so many more.
"The girl," the tall priest said suddenly. "If anyone has reason and cause enough to become bitter and twisted, it's the Princess of Seyruun. Much more so than you."
Reflexively, the Chimera tried to yank himself away from Rezo's presence. "And just how do you figure that? She wasn't turned into a freak of nature!"
"No, perhaps not. But she's lost more members of her family to intrigue and deceit in the name of power than you've ever known. Her mother was slaughtered; her sister abandoned her; one uncle tried to kill both her and her father; a cousin tried to do the same with help of two Mazoku. And yet she is still able to love. And loves well. Can you not see how your hate is destroying you?"
Forced to listen to Rezo's words, Zelgadis slowly felt understanding dawn. What he couldn't understand coming from Amelia's likeness, he found understanding through the words the one man he hated more than himself. Amelia had turned her pain into a drive to right the injustice she found where ever she went; he'd turned his own into a hatred of the world at large. She was kind and loving, if a bit flaky at times, but that was part of her charm. Something he'd grown to enjoy and cherish about her character. Something he'd grown to ...
"But," he said, finally looking up into Rezo's violet eyes and for the first time in years seeing the man and not the monster Zelgadis had created in his grandfather's image. "I have to be human again, don't you understand? Doesn't anyone understand? I can't ask her to love me when I look like this!" He ripped off his half-fingered gloves and held up his hands, fingers clenched claw-like. "I'm made of stone!"
Rezo shook his head. "Zelgadis, she can't wait for you forever. She's the Princess of Seyruun, in line to inherit the throne after her grandfather and her father finally depart this life. She'll be Queen one day. She cannot wait for you to find something that might not exist." He dropped his hand from his grandson's shoulder and stepped back.
Faced with that shocking revelation, Zelgadis stumbled backwards a pace and dropped to his knees. "Amelia," he said softly, realizing suddenly that he'd not thought about her position as Heir before. And how it affected them both.
He looked up at Rezo. "I -- "
There was no one there. Startled, the shaman looked around and found the darkness had lightened to reveal a dark, featureless plain. Out to all sides it extended, flat as a gameboard and just as barren. A cold grey light came from nowhere to provide just enough light to see just how barren.
Zelgadis pushed himself up and continued staring off into the horizon. He turned and twisted, searching for any landmark at all. Something to break that inhospitable expanse. Anything.
A light wind tugged at his cloak and brought the sound of a tolling iron bell to his sharp ears. Turning again, he found himself looking down on the walled city of Seyruun. His mind rebelled at that: He should not be able to look down on the city when they were both on the same flat plain! And yet, impossible or no, here he was looking down into the Capital City of White Magic and seeing the walls and arches that formed the familiar six-pointed of protection. A red light shone down on the city making it appear as if the white-walled city was awash with blood.
The bell tolled again, sonorous and mournful and full despair. A feeling of dread gripped him in the very pit of his stomach and he knew, he just knew something horrible was happening in the city below him. He took a step towards the walled city, then reeled slightly as the distorted dream perspective shifted so that he was no longer looking down into walls, but rather they shot skyward, sealing the city off from him. The red glow stretched overhead, lowering menacingly over the impossibly high walls. The light dripped down the sides of the walls in a gory waterfall.
Recovering his sense of balance, Zelgadis began walking first slowly, then briskly towards the city. While it seemed only a short distance away, he got no closer. The sense of urgency prodded him into a run, into which he poured all his demon speed.
He ran and ran and ran towards those featureless walls and still seemed to get nowhere. He ran until he was out of breath and nearly stumbling with fatigue before he finally made it to the city walls. Only ...
There was no way in.
Panic gripped him as the tolling bell sounded again, and again. Each peal shook the walls and he could feel the resonance as he laid his hands on the white stone. The stones on the ground at his feet shook with the force.
Pushing away from the wall, he struck off to one side and ran, looking for a way in. He had to get in somehow! And yet, the gates that led into the real city of Seyruun were non-existent here.
So he ran. And ran and ran. And still the bell kept tolling, mocking him, drawing further and further into a state of panic as he simply could not find a way in!
Screaming from the depths of his soul, Zelgadis rushed at the wall and struck it with his balled fists. Behind it, he put all the frustration, confusion and anger that he'd been feeling since this dream started and pounded upon the wall. And pounded and pounded and pounded.
The wall cracked with a sound like thunder. He smashed at it again, forcing the crack further up the wall. The red sky above flashed in time with the thunder as he beat upon the same spot. The jagged line of the crack sped upwards with each blow until it reached the top.
Zelgadis pulled back at the brilliant flash of light that seared his eyes. Snarling in pain, he hid his eyes as the light flooded the plain in all directions. He could feel the heat on his back as he fell to his knees, covering his eyes with his arm and still it pierced through his eyelids to stab painfully at his brain.
After what seemed an eternity, the light faded. After the incredible heat, he found himself shivering with chill. Carefully, he raised his head and looked around. The plain was as featureless and barren as before save now the red light covered the entire plain.
Something wet fell on his hand. Zelgadis looked down and found a spot of water on his hand. As he watched, another fell. Looking up, he felt more drops on his face; rain. Cold rain. It turned to ice even as he watched.
Pushing himself up, Zelgadis looked up at the wall and the crack he'd made. It was only a small crack, but it was a crack all the same. Raising his hands over his head and linking his fingers together, he brought his fists down on the same spot he'd been working on before. There must be some way to increase the crack, to break the wall and gain entrance!
The rain started falling in sheets, so cold and heavy that soon his clothes were soaked. His teeth rattled in his head as he shivered while they froze on him. His cloak barked his shins and he stopped to rip it from around his neck. It fell with a clatter to the ground below and shattered into fragments.
Staring horrified at it, Zelgadis did not notice the first drops of red that appeared in the cold, freezing rain. When he tried to move, turn back to his attack on the wall, he found his clothing frozen on his frame. He couldn't move!! Struggle as he might, he could not break the ice that encased him.
More and more of the sheeting rain turned red while he struggled. It fell, hissing, in great sheets that steamed where it hit the ice. Some fell on his face and he screamed in pain as it scorched him. Soon the red rain drenched the plain in thick, boiling blood. The coppery scent made him retch and his stomach lurch. And most of all, it burned. Every inch of him was afire. The pain was so bad that when his clothing finally melted and he could move again, he sank to his knees and huddled in on himself as the blood kept falling, falling ...
"Please," he whimpered, hiding his head in his arms. "Please let this end!" The red blood poured down harder, scorching him, burning the tender flesh of his hands --
Stunned, he sat up and looked at his hands. He had not put his gloves back on when he'd ripped them off earlier, so he could see all of them, not just his fingers. He just stared at them in disbelief. Scrubbing at the blood that covered them, he could find no pebbly stones, and they were ... brown, not blue. The brown of a suntan, not the blue of rock.
Slowly, he raised his hands to his face and touched it, feeling for the familiar stones that were part of his features. His chin and jaw. Above and below his eyes.
Nothing. They were gone. He pushed back his hair, noting that it was soft and fine, though wet with the falling blood, feeling for his ears and finding them rounded and flexible, not elongated and pointed.
Again he brought his hands down and stared at them. He was human. Somehow, he'd become human. Joy filled him as the realization sank in. He was human!!
The pain of the falling blood rain forgotten, he scrambled to his feet, and faced the wall. Raising his fists, he brought them down with all his might upon the stone --
And pulled back, screaming in pain. Cradling his hands against him, he fell backwards as the world went white around him and he threatened to lose consciousness. He fought that, though, pulling himself back from the edge of fainting by sheer willpower. He'd better be more careful from now on; he was human and didn't have his chimeric strength any more. He could be hurt.
But he had to get into the city. Carefully lowering his hands, he looked up at the wall. The bloody rain had stained the walls red and now it was tarnishing to black as he watched. The once pristine, white walls of Seyruun were tainted and fouled with gore.
A loud crack snapped his attention back to the wall directly in front of himself. The crack he'd made steamed. The blood rain ran down into it and ate away the stones of the wall. More cracks appeared, running like quicksilver over the bloodied stones and forming the shape of an archway. Inside the vining cracks, the stones crumbled, turning to dust and running in red rivers down and away as the red torrent continued unabated.
The archway slowly dissolved, revealing a high iron gate behind the stone. Zelgadis jumped up and rushed forward, clambering over the stones that shifted like sand under him as he reached for the bars. He grabbed them and found the gates locked. Howling with frustration, he shook them. Then they, too, dissolved under his touch, and the way into the city was open.
Scrambling down the other side of the still shifting and liquefying stones, Zelgadis hit the cobbled street running. He fixed his eyes on the shape of the Palace at the center of the city and ran like he'd never run before.
Only to come to a stumbling halt when he was less than halfway up the main avenue from the gate into the city to the Palace. He landed heavily on hands and knees only to cry out in pain as the wet cobbles scuffed his knees and the heels of his hands. Tears of pain sprang to his eyes and ran down his cheeks to drip in rusty droplets on his already gore-covered slacks. Forcing himself upwards, he plowed ahead towards his destination.
When he finally arrived at the Palace, Zelgadis burst through the archway into the courtyard and drew up short. The place was deserted. As a matter of fact, the whole city was deserted, he just now realized. It was eerie and the flesh between his shoulder blades crawled. A hesitant step brought him closer to the entrance to the Palace. He hurried towards the doors only to pull up short. He looked up at them and something told him what he was looking for would not be found behind them, or in this building. No ... He turned and scanned the courtyard. If not here, then where?
A small arched gateway off to one side, standing open and inviting pulled his attention. Leaving the steps, he flew to it and through it. Down the gently curving paved path, his boots clicking loudly on the slate flagstones. Unknowing of the cause or reason for the sudden sense of urgency; all he knew was that he had to find something, someone, before it was too late. And it was drawing near, that deadline, looming menacingly behind him.
He rounded a corner and came skidding to a halt outside the main doors to Ceified's Temple. They stood open and the tolling, mourning iron bell was louder here. So very loud. Its peals shook the building. Directly overhead, for the Temple was at the exact center of the city, red clouds boiled upwards and outwards. He shook his head, no, denying what he saw. Gathering his courage, he sprinted into the temple.
The red darkness outside did not extend into the hallowed sanctuary of the Dragon God. Instead, the darkness was clean and contained nothing that was not there had there been a light to chase the shadows away. He raced through the corridor that led through the rows upon rows of pews, towards the great statue of the God Himself, looming over the alter. The alter --
He drew up short as he saw the little knot of people standing there in front of the alter, blocking it from his view. Three people: Lina Inverse, Gourry Gabriev and Philionel el de Seyruun. The latter was still dressed in his motley from the travesty of a trial. The big man was on his knees, head bowed into his hands and the iron bells on his peaked cap tolling in time with his sobs.
"Lina!" Zelgadis shouted as he approached. His heart skipped a beat as she and Gourry both turned and he found they, too, were still costumed. His eyes flickered to Gourry; the tall blonde swordsman held the elongated handle of the scythe the Sword of Light had become. The other man's features were sad and full of remorse. He looked around and noted someone missing. "Where's Amelia?"
"How dare you show up here?" Lina demanded quietly. Zelgadis' eyes snapped to her ruby ones but before he could demand an explanation, she carried on. "Look at you!" she said, pointing at him.
He looked down at himself and found he was covered with blood. His hands were caked with it, his clothes soaked with it. Putting a hand to his forehead, he discovered his hair was matted and sticky with it.
"Lina's right, Zel," Gourry said quietly. "You really have some nerve showing up now of all times."
"Now, just wait a minute!" Zelgadis started to say, but an outburst from Phil silenced him.
"My dear, dear Amelia!" Phil murmured into his hands.
Zelgadis' whole being snapped to attention at Phil's words. Ignoring the hostile looks from Lina and Gourry, Zelgadis cautiously approached the scion of Seyruun. The big man, normally so full of life and enthusiasm, had shrunk in on himself. Huddled as he was on his knees, jester hat trailing the floor and the iron bells tolling as he sobbed, Zelgadis could hardly believe this was the same man. He seemed smaller, vulnerable, broken. Any other time, Phil dressed as a jester would have been ludicrous and comical, but now, Zelgadis felt only pity for the man, and a deep dread of whatever it was that had reduced the Prince to this state.
"What about Amelia?" he asked softly, both wanting and not wanting to know the answer.
Phil looked up at the Chimera-turned-human-again. As he recognized the man Zelgadis had become, his face hardened. "You," he rasped out. "How dare you show your face here?" He jumped to his feet to launch himself at Zelgadis, only to stumble and fall to his knees again and hung his head. "You should have let her love you. It was all she wanted; was that so much to ask?"
"What are you saying?" Zelgadis demanded, confused. Phil said nothing, but only put his face in his hands and sobbed louder.
"Yes, Zel," said a voice from behind him. He whipped around to see Lina there, looking regal and refined in her costume as the Queen of Swords. "You should have let her love you. What was so wrong with that?"
"But -- " he started to say.
A movement beside him and a blue glow stopped him short. Looking up, he found Gourry standing there, gripping the glowing scythe tightly in both hands. While he was still dressed in the austere black suit, a hooded cloak open in the front had been added. The hood had been pulled up over his head and covered his golden hair. Between his unruly bangs and the hood, his face was shadowed. But his eyes ... his blue eyes seemed to glow in those shadows and Zelgadis shivered.
"You should have let her love you, Zel" he said in a voice like steel. He put a hand on the shorter man's shoulder and gripped it. For the first time, Zelgadis had a true appreciation for the strength in those hands -- and could clearly feel the incongruous gentleness in them as well.
Releasing him, Gourry stepped forward past his friend and towards the alter. Zelgadis twisted around to watch him -- and felt his heart stop. There, beyond Gourry, was a glass box the size and shape of a casket set upon the alter. White roses nearly hid it from view, but he could see something laid out inside it. The tall swordsman hefted his scythe as he approached the box.
Terror gripped the shaman and he leapt forward. He caught Gourry's arm and rage and panic leant him the strength to haul the taller, heavier, stronger man around and shove him backwards. The swordsman stumbled, bumping Lina aside but Zelgadis didn't care. Turning his back on them all, he climbed the steps to the alter and looked down at the glass casket.
His heart stopped again and his breath froze in his lungs as he looked into that box. He couldn't think past the horror that gripped him. For lying there, laid out in her costume as the Queen of Hearts and her midnight dark hair spilling over the white pillow like a shadow, was Amelia. Her large eyes were closed and her shapely hands folded across her abdomen.
"No ... " he whispered in a dead voice. He dropped to his knees on the low ledge around the casket and leaned forward to place his hands upon the glass above her face. "No, Amelia," he whispered again, his voice halting and broken. His mind refused to accept what his eyes were showing him. All his searching, everything he'd suffered only to finally be able to come home to her and find her ...
Shaking his head vigorously, he refused to even think the word. She couldn't be -- Zelgadis ran his hands over the glass of her casket, leaving streaks of red where he touched it. There had to be some way to open this thing, some catch so he could get her out of there. He searched and searched but there was no visible means to open the casket. Damn it, there had to be a way to get her out of there!
Balling his hands into fists, he gave up his frantic search and instead just beat his fists upon the lid itself. "Amelia!" he shouted, not noticing the tears that washed tracks in the red-brown crust that covered his cheeks to drip upon her coffin. "Amelia!" he shouted again, his heart beating frantically and painfully against his ribs. "AMELIA!!"
He brought his hands down hard on the glass lid with all the force of his scream behind them, all the strength his human form could muster, with all the pain and heartache he was feeling. The glass shattered under his rage as much as the blow; sharp shards scattered like shrapnel.
Brushing aside the shards, unmindful of the way they sliced into his vulnerable flesh and blood dripped onto Amelia's dress and skin. Grabbing up her limp form, he dragged her out of the casket and into his arms. He cradled her against him as he dropped to his knees and rocked gently back and forth, as if he were comforting a child. "Wake up, Amelia. Please wake up," he crooned over and over, unwilling to believe she was dead. How could someone so full of life and love just die? "No, Amelia. Come back to me. I never ever got the chance to ... " His tears fell upon the dark shadows of her hair.
"Zel ... gadis ... san ... " came a small voice. His heart leapt and he held her out, looking into her face for any sign of life. They'd been mistaken, he thought wildly. She wasn't really dead; she just looked like she was dead. Yes, they had been mistaken!
"Amelia?" Cradling her in the crook of one arm, he touched her face with trembling fingers to wipe away a streak of his blood that had fallen on her cheek. "I'm right here, Amelia. Please -- wake up."
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, the only sign of life about her. His initial joy, however, was quickly dashed as he looked into those eyes. Where they'd once been bright and shining and full of life, now they were dead and dull and empty. A film had formed over them, giving them a grotesque appearance. Worst of all, however, was that they were transparent as glass spheres.
His mind reeled at the sight of those eyes. Shaking his head, he whispered, "No ... Gods, no ... " over and over again.
A blue glimmer reflected off those glass orbs where her eyes should have been and a footstep behind him made him twist around, Amelia's body still cradled tightly against him. Gourry stood there holding the shimmering scythe aloft. The shadows of his hood made his handsome face appear skull-like in the incandescent glow of the scythe blade. His blue eyes burned like gas-flames in the depths of his hood.
"I'M SORRY, ZEL," he said, his voice suddenly taking on a hollow, sepulchral tone. "I WISH YOU HADN'T MADE ME DO THIS. IF ONLY YOU HAD COME SOONER. BUT NOW IT'S TOO LATE."
All Zelgadis could do was stare up at the golden-haired Death that loomed over him. He couldn't move or even blink as that flashing blade came swooping down towards him. Not even when he saw the green-eyed Queen of Diamonds step out of the shadows and into his line of vision. He heard her laugh, high-pitched and ugly, before that too-bright blade exploded to fill his vision with a painful, glaring white light.
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
Bright light pierced his eyes as Zelgadis sat straight up with a scream. "Amelia!"
It took him a few moments to realize he was not in the chapel in Seyruun, but in the middle of nowhere in a desert gods knew how far from that city. The sun was already well overhead and peeking over the edge of the rock overhang beneath which he'd made his camp.
His heart finally stopped racing and his breathing became less labored. "Just a dream" he whispered to himself. And yet, while he said it, he knew there was something more to it than that. The final images haunted him still with their clarity and terrifying imagery. His conversation with Rezo, the frenzied attempt to get into Seyruun, the storm, becoming human again --
He thrust his hands out in front of him and stared at them. They were the same as they had been every day since that day Rezo had so callously turned him into a Chimera. He put trembling fingers to his face, feeling and outlining the smooth rocks on his chin and jaw, and passed a hand through his fine, still hair. If he were still a Chimera, there was no way the dream could be true --
Or could it? a voice seemed to say. A familiar voice yet one he had never heard before the previous night.
Twisting around, Zelgadis searched the little camp for Coyote. Of the golden-eyed man with the black braids there was no sign. In fact, there was nothing to show he'd ever been more than a figure of Zelgadis' fevered imagination -- save for the partially charred remains of his tunic in the now cold fire ring and a sweet smelling poultice on his shoulder. Sitting back, the Chimera peeled away the cloth from the wound on his shoulder. It was dark with dried blood, but the medicine that Coyote had put on it had seemed to work for his shoulder no longer throbbed and his fever had broken.
Was it just a dream? that voice asked again. How can you be so sure?
Tossing aside the cloth, Zelgadis grabbed his pack and rummaged through it for his spare tunic. Dragging it out, he pulled it on and pulled on his boots. Gathering up the rest of his possessions, he carelessly stuffed them into his pack, for once not caring about packing them neatly. He found his gloves, pulled them on, then belted his tunic and draped his cloak around his shoulders. Standing, he slung his sword around his waist, adjusted the hang of it, and bent to pick up his canteen.
Looking at it, he found the amulet that Amelia had worn around her wrist. The one that she'd given him when he'd made his decision not to return right away to Seyruun. He'd carried it on his canteen so he could see it frequently, but now, he felt he needed it closer. Unscrewing the lid, he quickly slipped the ribbon from around the neck of the canteen and around his wrist, tucking the jewel up under his sleeve. The weight of it was simple, constant reminder of her. Something he'd need on the journey back.
Finally, he hefted his pack and guitar over his shoulder, and struck off into the desert -- heading north and east towards Seyruun.