Walking Delusions

a/n: Thanks to all who continue to enjoy this story! And big thanks to Amanda who continues to provide me with wonderful reviews! Thanks!

Chapter Ten: The Strong Survive

I am standing on a ledge,
In my hands my retribution,
It glints in metallic glory,
Returning my reflection and the battle lust.
I am not who they say I am.
His golden eyes watching,
Waiting for my decision, the final plunge.
In the memories of my madness
And a time of forgotten ones,
The bridge, tattered and worn,
To the sorrow of dreams left behind.

I woke up to the unsettling feeling of someone grabbing my feet and jerking me from the relative safety of the tree roots. My eyes snapped open and I looked into the crazed face of a heavily painted individual. Instantly recognizing it as a foe, I started to fight back, kicking as hard as I could. I heard the sounds of battle and Melath yelling for Ryou so I knew that the others were fighting as well.

I concentrated on my attacker, determined to defend myself for once. I kicked hard at his legs. The strangely dressed assailant backed off a little before grabbing my foot and dragging me across the ground. I twisted my body to try and jerk my foot from his grasp. It worked and I fell down to the ground on my face. Without pausing to spit the dirt from my mouth, I pushed myself up to my hands and knees and started to crawl quickly away.

A weight crashed down on top of me, driving me to the ground. I yelled loudly and tried to roll my body but it was much larger than me. The unwelcome scent of unwashed skin and paint filled my senses. I was breathing in grass and soil and I didn’t like it. Arms wrapped around my mid-section and I was yanked up from the ground. Held aloft by the arms, I worked my own appendages free and jabbed my elbows backwards.

I heard an oof of pain and smiled to myself as I kicked with my foot as well. The arms loosened about me but did not release. I growled with anger and twisted again, determined to break free of the unusually strong grasp. I succeeded and was dropped to the ground. I scrambled to my feet.

It was then than an unknown weight, barreled into me from the side and grabbed me up. I was slung over someone’s shoulder very unceremoniously, faced with a stranger’s ass and the ground. It was not a pleasant place to be. I kicked my legs as hard as I could but an arm wrapped around them to hold them in place, so I beat on the back with my fists, not that it did much good. I was rewarded with a violent pinch to my legs for my effort.

I relaxed only in the slightest and came face to face with the hilt of a dagger, stuck into my captor’s belt and within easy reach. For a moment my world dimmed and I wondered if I had the courage to do the idea that just entered my mind. Could I draw that dagger and stab the enemy, in the back no less? I attempted to twist my head around to see what else was going on but my neck screamed in protest. I had told Vincent that I didn’t need them to save me; could I prove it?

It was the longest minute in my life, that moment of indecision where I had to decide if I was going to continue being an observer in this world, or finally succumb to whatever it took to survive. Would I kill? Could I take someone’s life? I heard the sounds of battle, the clash of sword on sword, the muffled groans and grunts, the almost imperceptible sound of blood hitting the ground.

There comes a point in every person’s life when a decision must be made. That must have been my point. With the option of either drawing that dagger or succumbing to whatever perverted or murderous fate my attacker had in store for me, self-preservation was the largest force. I wanted to live, for the rest of whatever my insane existence had wrought for me.

Without further thought I stretched out my fingers and wrapped them around the leather-wrapped hilt of the dagger. I took a deep breath, tried to still my rapidly beating heart and drew the weapon quickly. I felt my attacker give a hitch of surprise and knew I couldn’t wait. With a fierce cry, I jabbed the blade of the dagger into the back that was presenting an easy target. It sunk in to the hilt and warm blood washed out over my hands.

I shrieked at the feeling and started to wriggle in my attacker’s grasp even as he gave a roar of pain and unceremoniously dropped me to the ground. I scrabbled to my hands and feet and started to crawl away, sneaking glances over my shoulder to see the assailant reaching behind him and pulling out the knife as if it were nothing at all. He frowned at the blood on the tip then he reached out with a tongue and tasted it.

I pushed myself to my feet and decided it would be best if I got away from the crazy knife-licking man. I could hear the sounds of blade striking blade and the twang of Melath’s bow. I risked another glance over my shoulder and saw that my attacker was coming after me again. I gasped and put on a burst of speed, checking to see how close he was.

With a grunt, I slammed into someone in front of me. I had been so intent on running from the guy behind me; I had forgotten to check my path. I looked up into the startled eyes of yet another painted face as the body turned to grab me. Well, I had enough. I jerked back out of its reach when the glint of the sword in the man’s hand caught my attention.

Like a trapped animal, I bared my teeth and growled angrily. I leapt forward, hands reaching for the sword arm. One of my palms wrapped around his wrist, the other wrapped around the hilt. It became a wrestling match as I fought to get the weapon from his grasp. With his other hand, he hit me across the back of the head. I saw stars but held on. I shifted my weight from one foot as I hung on and lashed out with one leg, striking my enemy. I heard a dull crack in the same moment that he yelped with pain. His hand loosened on the sword and I gave a great yank.

The sword came free in my grasp and I stumbled backwards, surprised by the sheer weight of the weapon. The force of my pull carried me further back along with the heft of the blade. I tripped over my own feet, quite gracefully I might add, and the blade sunk into the ground. My tailbone struck a rather hard rock and I grunted with the pain as stars still swam in my vision from the blow across the head I had received earlier.

A weight barreled into me from the front and back as both of my enemies tackled me at once. We all became a tangle of limbs and clothing as I fought to get free. A hand tried to cover my mouth so I bit down and out, slicing the skin and tasting the coppery blood flowing into my mouth. It wasn’t as spicy as Vincent’s or as sweet as Ryou’s and I spat it out immediately, trying to get the vile taste from my mouth. I kicked out violently with my feet, unable to really see what was going on.

I jabbed with an elbow and connected with something even as one of my legs was grabbed and viciously yanked. I yelped with pain and slammed my head backwards, hearing a sickening crunch as a result. I didn’t have time to think about what I had done as my hands roamed and punched ceaselessly. A sharp blade sliced one of my fingers and I grasped for the weapon that had cut me. Not caring that it was the blade that I sought, I wrapped my fingers around the blade and gave a tug, emitting a cry of happiness when it came free in my hands. I turned it around, wrapped my bloodied and cut fingers around the hilt and started swinging wildly, trying to ignore the spatters of blood that was beginning to rain down on me.

I closed my eyes and hoped that I would survive this battle. I felt a heavy weight settle on me as I twisted and turned beneath them. I tried to ignore it and fight back. A face came very close to mine and I smelt fetid breath but I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to look. The dagger was wrestled from my grass as suddenly something thick and wet glided across the skin of my neck. I knew what it was instantly and twisted violently. The disgusting bastard had licked me!

After that, things became a whirl. I couldn’t really be sure what happened because I was filled with such a rage and anger that I could only see red. My world spun on its axis. I remembered the sound of a large crack and a pounding pain in my skull. I struck out with my knees and hit something at the same moment that I worked a wrist free, balled my hand into a fist and struck the face of the man that had dared touch me with his vile appendage. Somehow, I managed to find the dagger yet again and started swinging.

I thrust the blade upwards, striking home in something fleshy. I heard the squish of blood and a resulting moan of pain. I dug my heels into the ground and pushed up with my feet and hips, trying to get off the ground even as I slashed at my attackers and shoved my body upwards with my other hand. My eyes snapped open and I saw whirls of color, flashes of eyes, blood-red with pain and anger.

There was a snarling face and then there was the flashing of the blade in my hand, already blood-stained but catching the light of the sun. It swung down, heading straight for the sensitive skin of the throat. I closed my eyes as it fell, barely feeling it ripping through the flesh or acknowledging the spray of blood that coated my front and dripped onto my face. I was heaving violently, still caught up in the battle, swinging my weapon left and right as I climbed to my feet.

Was I afraid? I think I was too angry, too worried about each swing to waste time with fear. I was numb every time I fought and every time I stabbed another living being, a part of me withered away and died. Slowly, I was adapting to their world and it was changing me. From the moment I chose to defend myself, nothing was ever the same.

Only the strong survive? I was beginning to think that it was only the weak who gave in, who gave up their very souls to keep on living. I took someone else's life to keep my own. Did that make me brave? Did that make me a good person? My consciousness was buried beneath a haze of red, of a firm grip on a leather-wrapped pommel that dug into my skin and the cushy grass beneath me.

I was swinging frantically; eyes squeezed shut as I screamed nonsense battle cries. I don’t think I was really aware, just lost to the rhythm of battle. The smell of blood on the air, the sound of metal striking metal and the adrenaline rush that comes with a fight your life; all were becoming the very fabric of my existence. I no longer remembered Melath or Vincent, I forgot about my questions. Hell, I nearly forgot to breathe.

Death! Kill! Maim! Destroy!

Instinct raged and I felt a bitter laugh try to bubble past my lips. This was power, this was courage, this was me finally fighting my own battles.

Don’t come near me! Don’t touch me again! I’ll kill you all! My voice snarled at them outside and inside my mind. The words echoed like some mafia mantra, over and over until my only understandable notion was to kill.

“Miss Anne!” Ryou’s voice echoed through my subconscious, rippling across my defensive drive and in a sense waking me up.

My body ground to a halt and I blinked as if not really seeing. My senses came crashing down, immediately inundating me with the disturbing silence. My chest heaved as I gasped for breath and a blood-stained dagger slipped through my fingers to fall to the ground. My knees felt weak and I was dizzy. I wanted to faint but then I started to retch as nausea struck me with the force of a fist.

I gagged out loud and dropped to my knees. The smell it was everywhere… acrid, bitter, foul… it was death. My head exploded with pain and it was then that I felt the cool wind blowing across the wound in the back of my skull. Damn man struck me harder than I had originally thought. My skin was stretched taut over my frame and seemed to sting violently. I had gotten injured though for the life of me I couldn’t remember how or when.

Crimson washed over my vision. I remembered the feel of stabbing that man. I began to heave, emptying my stomach of everything I had eaten as a low feeling of shame and disgust settled in the pit of my belly. It sickened me… not that I had killed… no…. but because I had enjoyed it. In the back of my mind, I vaguely heard a voice laughing dryly, nearly taunting but it was quickly chased away.

A comforting large hand settled on my back and began to rub gently. Even through my retching, the scent of Ryou struck my nose. I spat to clear my mouth of the taste of bile and shuddered with all the realizations. Before I could stop them, the tears began to flow freely as I shook violently. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Highly emotional? You’ve got that right.

I barely heard Ivory and Vincent as they conversed in low tones. Ryou was saying soft things to me as he handed me a small handkerchief for me to wipe my face and mouth with. He was so kind. I could hardly believe that people that selfless still existed in the world. Gradually, I began to calm thanks to his comforting presence and I allowed him to pull me away from the bodies that I refused to look at and the mess that I had made.

Sitting on a relatively clean patch of grass and breathing in the air that was devoid of the instant smell of death calmed my nerves a little more and I was able to open my eyes and listen carefully to what was going on. Ryou was still sitting at my side, not saying anything but twisting some unknown object in his hands as his lips moved soundlessly. I think at that moment, I was more in shock, absorbing everything with this sort of numb apathy.

I knew my clothes and face were streaked with blood, my eyes likely widened and crazed. My hands were cut and torn from grabbing onto blades and my clothes were cut in several places but by god, I was alive. And at the moment, despite my self-revile, I was grateful for that.

"Vincent, you recognize these men, don't you?" Melath questioned.

The two men were kneeling next to one of the bodies, the silver-haired man's face drawn in a frown and his lips pursed together.

Vincent nodded, drawing his golden eyes together in tight understanding. “They are the same as those that attacked us when we left Donnil,” he commented. “More from the Rajab tribe.”

My mouth dropped. These men were the ones that had attacked Donnil? These were the reason that town burned to the ground? “W... what?” I managed to stutter out, looking between all four of my reluctant companions. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think we came back to Donnil?” Melath demanded harshly. “To save you?”

Well, that had been my original belief. Though I hadn’t understood it at the time. Yet the disgust in his voice seemed to point in the opposite.

He rose to his feet, turning his back on the mangled corpse and heading my direction. “Constance knew you had companions. He didn’t want anyone alive who knew of your existence. So he sent them to kill us. We burned down the town.”

My eyes widened and that sickened feeling struck me again. I remembered Donnil, the purple-eyed child crying over his parent's bodies... the smell of blood so thick on the air and the smoke rolling across everything, cloaking it all in a veil of shadowed death. The just completed fight ran through me once again, the feel of the dagger slipping into the flesh of my attacker, blood spilling out over my hands. It was all... because of me?

My stomach heaved and I jerked forward, body beginning to shake violently. Guilt, strong and fresh, assailed me in such steadying waves that I could scarcely breathe. I dimly heard the sound of them continuing to discuss, my vision starting to gray at the edges. Not even Ryou rubbing comfortable circles across my back could ease my pain.

"And for that reason we should just abandon her," Vincent inserted lowly. "Constance should have realized by now that she's not dead as he intended. He will come after her."

I could almost feel his angry glare, shooting through me as if he could see to my soul. He blamed me for things that I couldn't control, but I didn't fault him for it. I didn't belong here, in this strange place, if I was even here at all.

"Which is why we can't leave her!" Ryou argued passionately, concern for my welfare etched into his voice. So sweet... but he would be much safer for it if they all left me on my own. It was heavy, this guilt, and an unaccustomed feeling for me.

"The power could be ours," Ivory suggested, a hint of longing in her voice.

I couldn't see her from where I leaned over the ground, hair curtained around my face. But again my stomach rolled and I heaved dryly, coughing harshly with dark chuckles.

My power? Everyone wanted my power? This power I couldn’t see or feel! This power I couldn’t even use! That was all I was. I struggled with truth of my existence, of proof that I was real and not in a dream. I dealt with the guilt of innocent lives and hurting those that didn’t deserve it and these fools argued over what to do with me!

"Shut up!" I shouted hoarsely, rage beginning to fuel within me along with the guilt and the nausea. My head spun with the conflicting and raging emotions but I shakily yelled again. "Just shut up!"

I swooned slightly, my body falling forward. I reached out to catch my hands as I drew their attention in my direction, gaze instantly falling on the blood that stained my hands. It was caked under my fingernails, beginning to darken at the edges as it dried. I've never killed before or even seen the blood on my own hands and I flipped.

"Oh god," I moaned lowly, shaking my head as my hands trembled before my eyes, some of the blood still glistening wetly in the brilliant yellow sunlight.

Lalil, her bleeding and ravaged body lying beneath the golden-green trees. Ryou lolling helplessly as I suck the blood from his wrist like a greedy beast. The control in killing. It had felt so right, I had felt so powerful, strong... unbreakable. The urge to laugh bubbled up within me but quickly submitted under the crashing despair and I moaned again, swaying as my crimson-stained hands blurred in front of me. My breath came short and quick, spots appearing in my vision as my entire body shook like an inner earthquake.

I killed! That was something irreparable, unable to be fixed! I couldn't take that stain off my soul, that sin off of my conscience. I was selfish! I had wanted to live and so I took away the freedom of someone else's right to live. I stole that chance from them! What kind of person did that make me! To be so selfish, so vile, so...

Hands gripped my shoulders; the smell of blood assailing me as I was suddenly shook violently, my head snapping back and forth on my neck. My eyes popped open and I stared directly into disgusted emerald orbs, a sneer etched into her pretty face, marred only by the blood spatters that decorated her skin and hair. This was a woman borne in the blood of battle, borne in the ways of a warrior, the call to fight sang in her veins and she lived to swing her axe, becoming a terror on the field of good versus evil... if there was even such a distinction. At this point, the lines were becoming so blurred that everything was covered by a distinct shade of grey.

Her face hazed in front of mine, tears blurring my vision and I knew she could feel the trembling of my body beneath her veins. But there was no pity in that gaze. She had none for the scared little girl in a new world. Ivory had no concern for the weak, and I reviled her. I could see that. My fear, my reluctance, my nausea.... all my reactions sickened her to the core.

"Wake up girl!" she snapped, voice cold and tight with barely restrained scorn. "That's how the world works! Kill or be killed! Only the strong survive!" She punctuated each word with a violent shake, shooting a glare to Ryou when he seemed to want to argue with her.

I shook my head, trembling further under that gaze. I felt ashamed of myself. For relying on their aid. For being weak. For being unable to protect myself. For crying and sobbing and acting as if the world should cease its ways just cause of my fear. Waiting around, expecting to go home, rather than accepting the truth. I was stuck here.

"I was so scared," I muttered in response, even though I knew it was not something that would endear her to me. "It was pure luck."

"Fear is no excuse!" she spat. "It makes you sharper, braver. But standing still and watching your death descend makes you nothing but a fool. Kill! Live! By the gods, don't just lie there and die! Luck makes no difference."

Her words stung more than the vicious way she shook me, hurt more than the digging of her sharp nails into the flesh of both my shoulders. I felt like a child again, chastised by a disappointed mother. I was ashamed of my fear. I wished I had the courage to be her, but I was nothing more than a selfish and frightened little girl. I didn't have it in me to pick up a sword and fight. I didn't have the fortitude to face down an army of ghouls.

"I... I can't," I gasped out, one of my blood-stained hands darting forward and clutching onto the only part of her I could reach, the loose fabric of her pants. I knew my eyes were pleading. "I just... I can't! I'm too afraid!"

Ivory snorted, her emerald gaze hardening further. "Then we have no use for you. Tears has no use for you. Might as well lie down and die!"

Her words slapped me like venom as she shoved down at my body, abruptly releasing her grip on my shoulders and slapping my hand away from her legs. She stood up, giving me a look of bright disdain before storming away, as if my presence sickened her.

I cried out in pain, though I really wasn't physically injured and kind of slumped to the ground, unable to look up at anyone. I couldn't change who I was! Why couldn't they see that? Did they expect some brave warrior? In the eyes of these battle-hardened people, I was nothing but a child, a pampered princess so to speak. I felt Ryou's hand lay itself on me in an attempt at comfort but I shrugged him off, hot tears prickling at my eyes.

"Just leave me alone!" I muttered.

I could feel the hurt emanating from in waves as he retracted the touch, but at the moment, I couldn't find it in me to care. What little pride still remained after being dumped in this world had been effectively trampled, reducing me to nothing more than a sodden mess on the ground of a blood-stained field of green grass.

Faced with the truth of my nature, the real face of who I was, I couldn't even find it in me to move. I was a burden. The king had said I was the one, but I couldn't even stir myself to rise from apathy. I hadn't even the courage to defend my life. It was the awful and bitter truth, but I was stuck here. There was no going home, if indeed I was even alive at 'home' to begin with. I just couldn't say. Trapped in the line between reality and fantasy, I bordered on the edge of insanity. I wasn't strong enough for this; I never was strong enough for anything.

"Ryou, gather up the supplies. Ivory, check their pockets. Vincent, give me a twenty scout." I dimly heard Melath barking out orders, quickly reasserting his role as leader.

I noticed that I had been left out of the commands, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I sincerely hoped that they continued to on their way, leaving me behind in this pitiable mess. Perhaps some merciful carrion eater would come along and eat me in one big gulp, end this shameful existence.

I heard the monk hesitate; however, always more concerned for me than himself. Such a sweet guy, so subservient yet strangely fierce when it came to me. "What about Miss Anne?"

There was a pause. No one moved as Melath seemed to consider the question. I looked up, from beneath the curtain of my brown hair and through red-rimmed eyes, finding that everyone was looking to the silver-haired one for guidance. How did he get to be leader? What had he done to deserve their devotion?

"She comes with us," he said finally, after several heartbeats.

My eyes widened as his gaze swept over me. Even after seeing this pitiable figure lying dejected on the ground, he would still seek my presence.

"But--" Vincent seemed to object, a fierce expression on his face.

Crystalline blue eyes narrowed coldly. "Enough!" declared Melath sharply. "She stays with us. That way all are satisfied. Ivory can battle to her heart's content with all the trouble I am sure Anne will cause, Ryou can be assured of the girl's safety..." His eyes gaze turned to me, a different emotion than any presented glaring ominously from beneath the depths of his blue stare. "And my curiosity can be sated. That way, the only opinions that matter are considered." His penetrating gaze shifted to Vincent.

He seemed about to protest and their two willful personalities clashed in a silent battle that none of us could understand. Strange how it seemed they were together and yet so apart in the same moment. What kind of relationship did they have? Vincent's left brow twitched; Melath stood stock still. A small breeze wafted up and tugged at their clothing. A tense silence ensued.

Finally, after a bated breath, Vincent capitulated with just the slightest nod of his head. He turned and headed towards the east. The exact direction I needed to be going. Melath watched his exit for a moment, something strange glowing in his gaze before directing his attention in another course.

I sighed and stared sorrowfully at the ground. So now I was nothing more than baggage. Minutes passed as I watched the grass moving without seeing, dimly hearing the sounds of Ryou and Ivory doing as they were bid. I could feel the heat of the sun on my clothes, the hardness of the ground beneath my body and the cool whisper of the breeze but my apathy had consumed me. I no longer cared about anything. About the damn bow, about the damn village, about the damn king of the forest. This adventure was anything but.

I just wanted to go home.

*****

a/n: Ah, this chapter is a bit shorter than the others but the next one should make up for it. I should have chapter 10 out by Friday. Thanks for reading! I look forward to your comments!