Poison Chapter 1

Author: Tsutsuji Title: Poison

Poison

Chapter
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Title: Poison (1 of ??)
Author: Tsutsuji
Date written: June 11, 2005
Fandom: Slayers
Rating: PG13 - T (safe for teenagers, at least for now)
Pairings: ZelgadisxXelloss
Original characters: no
Type: yaoi/slash, adventure
Warnings: h/c, angst
Status: in progress.
Spoilers: no
Disclaimer: I do not own the copyright to these characters and I'm making no profit from this fic and intend no copyright infringement.
Summary: A year after Try, Zelgadis finds his path has crossed with Xelloss' again. But what is the Trickster Priest seeking, and why must it take him to the same places where Zelgdis hopes to find his cure? Of course.. it's a secret....
Archive: any place slash/yoai and Mazoku-centric fics are welcome
Notes: The plot came to me unexpectedly and wouldn't leave me alone. Very much like Xelloss, in fact.
-- Poison, chapter 1 --
Sometimes, in the year since he left Lina and the others to travel on his own, Zelgadis found he was able to enjoy the journey for its own sake. Even though he was still driven by the desire to find a cure for his rock-golem body and the demon third of his soul, there were some days when the sun shone golden on the fields and the birds sang in flowered meadows, when it was almost enough to simply be walking along at his ease, ready for whatever small adventures awaited him down the road. Having seen the world nearly destroyed several times in the recent past, and been a part of saving it each of those times, made such small moments more valuable to him than they had ever been before. Even though the sun could not warm his stone skin, knowing that his friends were somewhere in the same world, busy with their own adventures, gave him a feeling inside that was warmer than the sun could ever be
Then, at the end of a day of such contentment, he would come to a village looking for a meal and a place to stay the night, only to be greeted with furtive glances or open stares. His hooded cloak and veiled face caused enough suspicion on their own, even if he waited until the shadows of dusk to approach an inn and stayed in smoke-filled corners of the common room. He'd grown used to ignoring such reactions when he'd traveled with the others, although even then he was wary, if only because Lina would Fireball anyone who so much as grimaced at one of her companions. Now, he had no argument for an innkeeper who took a long look at his cloaked form, the silver-wire strands of hair that escaped his hood, and the glitter of stone flakes around his crystal blue eyes, and declared that he had no vacant rooms to let for the night.
"No rooms for chimeras with skin of stone and the look of a demon in his eyes," he would mutter, walking away into the dark to camp in the wilderness once again.
Sometimes it got worse than that. Sometimes he grew weary of trying to ignore the looks and whispers, and although he resisted the temptation to drop his disguise and reveal his true form to them, he would glare back, and his fingers would twitch. Seeing this, and the light in his eyes, they would know him for a sorcerer as well as a freak, and their fear would grow before his eyes. Then he would hear them whisper words and make signs of protection against the power of demons. Their folk magic didn't bother him; even a true Mazoku would only be amused by their feeble attempts to ward off evil magic. But they had the effect of hardening his heart.
One night, hearing such whispers, he decided recklessly to stay at the inn regardless of the reactions of the villagers. It was the last inn before the road left the placid valley to climb into the hills where shelter would be scarce. He even took brief delight in the wide-eyed trembling of the innkeeper and the sudden silence of the other patrons as he passed through their midst. But then, disgusted with himself, he left anyway, trudging through the dark streets between homes and shops with shuttered windows. And that's when the trouble began.
Hearing footsteps in the darkness near the edge of the village, Zelgadis had a moment to think to himself "I should have known better - idiot!" before the first flash of a spell attack seared the air around him. He spun around to face the local sorcerer, a balding, well-fed man who looked like he should be home with his plump wife and children rather than facing a demon in the dark of night. Shaking but resolute, the sorcerer stood in the middle of the road, flanked by half a dozen swordsmen wearing homemade armor.
"I'm leaving your village in peace," he growled. "I advise you not to stop me, or I'll be forced to make you regret it."
"It is our duty to rid the world of a creature of darkness!" the sorcerer cried, reminding Zelgadis uncomfortably of Amelia. But even if the lines sounded rehearsed and the voice shook, the power that gathered between the man's hands was strong and bright enough to cause Zel to worry.
Zelgadis threw up his shield, but to his surprise, the sorcerer did not attack with his spell. Instead, energy crackled through the air and jumped like lightning into each of the blades held up by the six swordsmen. They looked frightened but not surprised as they held their enchanted blades aloft. Zel realized that this was not a spur-of-the-moment attack but something practiced and planned. The village must have been plagued by demons wandering down from the nearby hills, and they'd learned to protect themselves.
He bristled even more at their assumption that he was one of the Mazoku, but peasants in isolated villages like this only recognized two kinds of beings - themselves, and monsters. He was clearly one of the latter in their eyes. That would force him to act like one, and they would never know the difference. Unfortunately, although he was not technically Mazoku at all, acting like one came all too easily to him at a time like this.
He pulled his sword, quickly casting the enchantment spell on it as well. If they were more knowledgeable, they would have realized that his need for an enchanted sword was a sure sign that he was not one of the Mazoku they feared, but at this point they wouldn't care even if they did realize the difference.
The sorcerer, in fact, narrowed his eyes briefly as Zel raised his glowing blade, daring them to come at him. For a second their eyes locked, but then the sorcerer smiled and unleashed his second spell. Zel realized the swordsmen had not held back from fear but had been awaiting this second spell, but it was too late to shift power back to his shield. The sorcerer's original spell was one Zel had never heard or seen before. It came at him faster than his senses could follow it, too quick to dodge. Fiery ropes of power wound around him like whip-ends, binding his arms to his sides. Soon he was bound from shoulder to ankle by enchanted ropes woven of astral energy, a trap designed to hold even Mazoku immobile just long enough for six enchanted swords to reach him.
Dropping his sword from the hand bound tight at his side, Zel tried to cast a breaking spell, but it barely weakened the bonds at all. He realized this village sorcerer was an untrained natural, and wondered if he even knew his own power. Seeing Zel struggle, the sorcerer looked momentarily surprised, and then his face lit up in triumph. He screamed to the swordsmen to attack.
Zel stretched his fingers toward the ground, but bound as he was, he couldn't put his full force into his spell. Even so, the ground shook under the soldiers, but although two of them stumbled, the rest danced across it as if it was something they did every day.
Zel screamed and glared at the first swordsman to reach him, knowing his face must look like every demon that haunted their nightmares. The swordsman answered his scream with one of his own and let his blade fall. The trembling ground sent him off balance, but the blow would have severed the arm of a normal mortal man. The blade went deep into the stone flesh of Zel's shoulder and stuck there, wrenched from the man's grasp as his own momentum carried him forward.
Zelgadis stumbled backward but kept to his feet, held in place by the sorcerer's binding spell. That was on purpose, he realized with a rush of fear. The bindings didn't just seal him from casting spells; they held him in place and made him an easy target. He raised his eyes in time to see a second swordsman's blade directly over his head, and a third coming at him from the side.
His scream of pain and rage seemed to echo off the darkness behind him. Out of that darkness, a sudden force like nothing he'd ever felt before yanked him back. The second blade fell in front of him, the tip slicing the empty air in front of his nose. The third man's thrust caught his companion in the gut and they both fell at his feet. Three more swordsmen stood ready to strike. The sorcerer yelled a quick spell and Zel felt the bindings tighten even more around him.
Something gripped him from behind again, ripping him free of the bindings and pulling him back again. He stumbled, caught off balance, but a strong arm close around him before he could fall to the ground. Something flashed red in the darkness beside him. There was a voice, harsh, deep, and strange, yet familiar, yelling unknown words in his ear. At the same time the hand that held him gripped the sword blade stuck in his shoulder, nudging it deeper into his flesh. Red-hot pain, along with fear, confusion, and anger, all combined to tear another scream from his throat, which mingled with the roar from the voice of the one that held him.
His last glimpse of the villagers saw their eyes widen in shock, reflecting a dull purplish--red glow. Then his vision disintegrated into sparks of pain, and everything went black.
The agony in his shoulder awoke him some time later. His throat was raw, and he remembered yelling, but other than that he could remember nothing but confusion before he opened his eyes. Above him, there was pale light in the sky above the trees. He could smell a dying campfire, and he heard the sound of a brook nearby, and the first birds twittering before dawn.
He started to roll over, then grasped his arm and gasped, falling back onto the ground.
"Ah, good. You're awake at last!"
The familiar voice cut through his pain, and his head jerked up.
"Xelloss!"
The trickster priest, the last person he expected to see, squatted next to the embers of a small campfire. His eyes were hidden in his smiling face, as usual.
"I'm afraid you'll have to heal yourself, Zelgadis-san," he said, with a nod toward Zel's injured shoulder. "You know healing spells are not in my repertoire."
Pain overwhelmed Zel's confusion and anger. He lay back and did as Xelloss suggested, remembering that the last thing he knew, a sword blade was still stuck in his shoulder. He didn't bother to ask what happened to it, or to the swordsmen or the sorcerer. He could hardly feel disgusted with the Mazoku for doing whatever he did to them. If he'd had the chance, he probably would have done nearly the same, and lived with the regret of it later. He didn't need to feel the regret that Xelloss was immune to.
Before he was done with the healing, the aroma of coffee and rich broth made his stomach growl. Once he thought of food and realized how hungry he was, he could hardly wait to finish the spell and eat. But when he finally sat up, trying to pull his tattered tunic sleeve into place over his shoulder, he faced Xelloss across the campfire with a suspicious glare. The trickster priest merely grinned his usual bland smile and held out a cup of steaming coffee. Zel took it, and looked at the bowl of broth that was warming in the embers as well. The food was obviously from his own supplies, but he couldn't help asking.
"Is it poisoned?"
Xelloss' smile remained in place, but for a moment it seemed more false than usual. Then he broke into an even wider grin.
"Of course, Zelgadis-san! I only saved you from an angry mob so I could watch you die of poison! What a delightful scenario. I wish I'd thought of it."
Zelgadis glared at his sarcasm for a few more seconds before huffing and shaking his head. He gave up and drank his coffee in silence, then dug into the broth without another thought. He was too hungry to puzzle out the Mazoku's motives. Xelloss sat back, sipping from his own cup, while Zel helped himself to breakfast.
The silence that fell between them was strangely familiar, almost comfortable. Xelloss showing up at a crucial moment, unexpectedly, was almost to be expected, as familiar a part of his life for the past several years as watching Gourry and Lina fight over food. But at the same time, this was different. Lina wasn't around, and Xelloss had never actually helped him out personally before.
"Let me guess," Zel said, as he polished off the last of the broth and poured another cup of coffee from the pot that sat among the coals. "You just happened to be passing this way on some errand that you can't explain, and now - don't tell me - now you're headed in the same direction as I am."
"Oh?" Xelloss looked surprised. "Are you on your way to the shrine at Shimeria as well?"
Zel ground his teeth, making a half-hearted prayer to the gods for patience. "You knew that was where I was going," he muttered.
"You're still searching for a cure for your chimera form, aren't you?" Xelloss said in a more serious tone.
"Of course," Zelgadis answered shortly.
For a moment, he caught a rare glimpse of Xelloss' slitted eyes as the Mazoku looked at him directly.
"How sad and how foolish of you, Zelgadis-san," he said.
"It's none of your business," Zel said, shifting uncomfortably under Xelloss' gaze. "Anyway, what possible interest could you have in that shrine? You're not still looking for the Claire Bible, are you? If you ever really were. And if you say that it's a secret, I swear I'll run you through with my own enchanted sword."
Xelloss looked ridiculously innocent, then gave a chirp of laughter.
"There is no Claire Bible manuscript at the shrine of Shimeria," he said. "If that's your question. But I didn't think that's what you were going there for, anyway. The relics of St. Shimeria are said to be able to cure almost any ailment or curse, aren't they?"
"That's what I've heard," Zel admitted, trying not to let either his hope or his skepticism show. "What's you're interest in them? Are you looking for a cure for being a monster?"
"Oh, my!" Xelloss said with a wounded expression. "What a harsh thing to say! Well, I can't tell you it's a secret, so I can only say - I don't know!"
"What?" Zelgadis said, in spite of himself. He should know better by now than to let himself get caught up in the trickster's doubletalk.
"It's true," Xelloss said with an embarrassed laugh, throwing his hand up behind his head. "I don't know what I'm looking for. I'll just have to figure it out when I find it!"
Zelgadis shook his head. "You're just as annoying as ever, Xelloss," he muttered.
He considered changing his plans to avoid traveling with the priest, but he couldn't deny his hope that there would be something that could help him at Shimeria, and he had nowhere else to go. And anyway, he had to admit, it seemed an ungrateful way to behave when Xelloss had just saved his life - for whatever reason.
"Fine," he sighed. "I guess we're traveling together for awhile, then."
"Wonderful! Just like old times, isn't it?"
"Wonderful," Zelgadis echoed, as the rising sun slanted through the trees with golden light and the birds began to sing.
---
(to be continued... )

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