Serenity
Rating: PG
[Saiyuki]: [AU] When a medical officer abruptly goes insane and strange symbols are found burnt into the walls of his room, demonic possession is immediately suspected, and a high ranking mage summoned to deal with it, sparking off a series of events with more dire consequences than any of them could have foreseen.
Prologue
“Sir. The man you requested to see is here.”
The General looked up at his aide’s diffident interruption. “Let him wait.”
The aide, a Second Lieutenant who had just acquired his stripes, looked distinctly uncomfortable. “He will not wait, sir.”
“Let him wait,” the General repeated.
He could see a silhouette through the narrow crack of the open door. A short – well, fairly short – frame, which looked to be slender except for the billowing cloak that obscured its exact form. It was tapping a foot.
“Yes sir,” the aide said, defeated. He turned…
…and was promptly propelled into the room by a healthy shove. The silhouette shoved its way past, slamming the door open as it did so, to materialize as a young man with a crop of brilliant gold hair.
A very young man. Younger than the General had anticipated, for one of such fame. “Twenty,” he hazarded.
The tirade that the man had been about to launch into aborted in a quizzical arch of one golden eyebrow. “What?”
“Twenty. You can’t be older than that.”
“Asshole,” the man growled. “Make me wait, will you? After I come flying across half the country…”
“Nonsense. We all know you mage types drop out of the sky.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and folded his arms, twitching the grey cloak aside to reveal the close-fitting black robes of his order. “So get to the point. This mission of yours. How much is it worth?”
“What’s money to a man who possesses arcane powers beyond the comprehension of us common mortals?” the General countered, and hide a smirk as the other heaved an exasperated sigh.
“Obviously, you’re just fooling around.” His arms come down, and he turned on one booted heel, heading out the way he had come.
“And you were in such a hurry to get in too,” the General called after him.
“I have no time for fools,” the caustic reply came back.
The General straightened from his slouch in his office chair, and flicked his fingers at the thoroughly embarrassed aide who had been trying to blend into the shadows. The lieutenant blinked at him, and sprang into action, slamming the door shut before the man could reach it.
The young mage did not pause. He raised a hand, readying an incantation—
“—There is a man,” the General said.
The other paused, but did not lower his hand.
“A man who is possessed by an evil demon, or so it is said.”
The arm came down, and the mage turned.
The General tapped a sheet of paper atop a stack of books. “He was a doctor in our medical corps. He is—was… a quiet, bookish sort, who largely got along with everyone. He worked for us for five years without incident, and was, I must say, superb at his job.” The General leaned forward, resting his elbows on the smooth surface of his desk. And paused, drawing a breath against a chest that seemed to be constricting. “Then one day…”
“General!”
There were screams: screams and shouts and the sound of people fleeing.
Armed, supposedly hardened soldiers were running for their lives with looks of
absolute terror on their face. He shoved his way through their ranks, yelling
orders that went unheeded.
“What the hell is going on here?!”
“General!” One man answered him. His aide of ten years staggered up to
him, blood splattered across his uniform. He grabbed the man by his shoulders
to steady him.
“General.” The Captain’s breath was coming in wet, ragged gasps. His
hand was pressed against his right eye, and blood was leaking through his
fingers and all the way down his arm. “Doctor Cho,
he…”
“Cho? What’s the old bastard up to?”
The Captain’s hand fell, revealing the ruin of an eye and the white of
bone where half his face had been simply… sheared away. “He’s gone mad,” he
gasped. “Started killing everyone…”
Dread, shock and disbelief collided. Not Cho.
Not…
“Oi,” the mage said.
The General started, pulled away from the memory. He passed a weary hand over his eyes. “He murdered half the company, then disappeared into the hills. There was no reason – he didn’t take anything, didn’t target anyone in particular, didn’t say anything or demand anything. There was no provocation, no notes, absolutely nothing that could pinpoint why he would suddenly snap like that.”
“It could be simple insanity, rather than possession,” the mage pointed out.
“Magus Gilthion – Gilthion, wasn’t it? Is there such a thing as simple insanity?” the General asked angrily. “No, don’t bother answering that. At any rate, I led a company out to find him and take him into custody for further questioning.”
“And he’d disappeared off the face of the earth,” Gilthion said, sounding bored. “Or you found him in a cave, complete with horns and forked tail and chewing on the bones of the dead—“
“Nothing like that. We found him indeed, wandering down the road like nothing had happened at all. He greeted us with a smile, and asked what was wrong. He had no recollection whatsoever of the events of that day. We made to bring him back to us, when he abruptly spun, slew two guards nearest him, and fled. We pursued him, but he was moving with supernatural speed, and eluded us. We haven’t seen him since, but there have been reports of murders of travelers and the odd traveler.”
Gilthion sighed. “That’s nothing to go on at all.”
“So what?” the General shot back. “You’re paid to find him and exorcise that demon, or at least subdue him long enough to bring him back.”
“You still haven’t told me why you’re convinced that he’s possessed.”
The General frowned. “It was this. We searched his quarters after he disappeared. The place was … redecorated, to put it mildly. There were symbols seered – seered, not drawn or painted – into the walls, ceiling and floor. There were scorch marks everywhere, and gorges across the floor. We barely had the chance to look at it before the entire place mysteriously went up in flames.”
Gilthion’s bored look had faded. “Show me these symbols. You must have copied them.”
The aide scampered forward to collect a sheaf of papers which he passed to the mage. The General waited as the other leafed through them, his gaze sharp and calculating.
“Fascinating. These do look legitimate. There are…” he trailed off, staring intently at a series of runic inscriptions.
“There are…?” the General prompted.
“There remains the matter of payment to be discussed,” Gilthion said, stowing the papers a traveling pouch.
“As the original missive stated. Fifty gold tassels if you bring him back alive, and another fifty if you exorcise this demon.”
“Pittance, for such a job.”
“Take it or leave it.”
The corner of Gilthion’s mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. “A hundred gold tassels for a man who killed both your company mages?”
“How did you know that?”
Gilthion shrugged. “Obviously, you must have dispatched your own people to take care of him before sending for foreign aid. If your guys hadn’t gotten their asses kicked, no way you stiff necked bunch would have advertised for help.”
“Seventy five gold tassels for each task. To be paid upon satisfactory completion of the job.”
“A hundred each.”
“Eighty.”
“A hundred.”
“Ninety.”
“Done.”
The General masked his surprise at the concession. Everyone knew that mages were stingy, gold loving bastards, and the rare few who actually took on commissions typically demanded the crown jewels on a diamond platter as a reward. Gilthion par Averion Dulat Kommithal, mage of the eighth order and one of the most powerful young arrogant sods in the world, was notorious for demanding all of that and a king’s ransom besides. That the man was settling for less than two hundred gold tassels for the job could only mean that he had some ulterior motive.
Interesting. The General inked in the terms and scribbled his signature across the bottom of the contract that his officers had prepared beforehand. Gilthion scanned through the document quickly, before pressing his finger to the paper. There was a brief flash of light, and scrawl emblazoned it across the line above his name.
“Mages,”
the General snorted in disgust. “Show offs.” Rolling several dirt streaked
pieces of parchment, he pushed them across the table. “Here are maps.
Gilthion scanned a map briefly, eyes narrowed. Abruptly, he stabbed a finger at a black cross just north of the pass. “What’s that?”
“A village. The locals call it Hasselby.”
“Right. I’ll take these.” The mage swiped the parchments, rolling them deftly up in a single move, before pocketing them.
“I might have needed that,” the General said, raising a sardonic eyebrow.
“Too bad. I need it more.”
“Well. I’ll assemble a team to go with you—“
“—I work alone,” Gilthion cut him off.
The General allowed the pause to hang in the air for a few seconds, to give the mage a fair chance to retreat his statement. When no such retraction was forthcoming, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Gilthion only smirked. “Don’t piss your pants worrying about your missing doctor, General.” He flung the contract back onto the desk and looked up, and in the sudden flash of sunlight through the high window, the General could see that his eyes were curious shade of deep purple. “Or should I say, your missing lover?”
The look that the General bestowed on the mage had made many a junior and senior officer cower. “Keep your smartass remarks to yourself until you actually succeed.”
“Of course I’ll succeed.” He paused, his gaze calculating. “And General?”
“What?”
“It’s twenty three years old.” And he spun and was gone.
-
End Prologue. To be continued.