MOVE AWAY FROM THE HUMAN, CHIMERA.
"Nanio?!?" Mekeio's mouth moved, but a multitude of voices spoke. Zelgadis regarded the Guardian as she mechanically stood.
MOVE AWAY FROM THE HUMAN.
"No." Zelgadis closed his hand around 'Dancer's mangled one, noticing that it had loosened and was bleeding heavily again.
MOVE AWAY CHIMERA, OR YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED.
"Then you are planning to kill her." It wasn't a question.
YES.
"Why?" Zelgadis tried to buy time. He gently shook 'Dancer, hoping to rouse her. Mekeio held out her hand again. Green fire flickered in her palm.
BECAUSE THE HUMAN IS A MAGIC CORRUPTER.
"I've never heard of one."
MOVE AWAY.
"No."
Mekeio didn't say anything, the small blaze in her hand just grew larger. Zelgadis stared down the possessed Guardian calmly, but his mind worked furiously. He did not doubt that the Forest had canceled his last spell, but was puzzled as to why the Forest hadn't done so sooner. If It had the ability to nullify his spells, why hadn't It? He frowned faintly.
Without a warning the fire spurted out, tongues of flame licking a hungrily at them. Zelgadis's eyes narrowed, mentally charting the trajectory of the flame. Sensing something amiss, he glanced over his shoulder, as flame snaked in from behind. He hissed as he stumbled to his knees, shielding 'Dancer. Mekeio took several stiff step towards him.
WHY DO YOU PROTECT THIS HUMAN?
Zelgadis glared up at her.
"Why do you protect her?" He asked of the Forest, indicating Mekeio.
THE FOREST ALWAYS PROTECTS THE GUARDIAN. THE GUARDIAN ALWAYS PROTECTS THE FOREST. WITHOUT ONE THERE CAN NOT BE THE OTHER. So simple a philosophy. What's wrong with applying it to the rest of humanity? Zelgadis wondered snappishly.
"If you understand that, then why do you even ask me that question?" Zelgadis growled, standing gingerly. His cloak and tunic where little better than ash. "And exactly what type of threat is she to you anyway? She not having her-" He choked suddenly, acutely aware of what he was about to say. "She hasn't been warping magic!"
The President sat at the head of the long table in the darkening Wardroom. Around her bustled a crowd of generals, admirals, and department heads. The Chief of the Security Consul carefully made his way through the tense crowd to where the President sat watching the army officers argue about the next troop movements. The President looked up as he approached and smiled wanely at him.
"Have a seat. You look as beat as I feel." She leaned back and pulled a chair to the table from where it had been pushed back against the wall. The Chief accepted with a nod and sat down wearily, the strain of long days etched in his face. The President appraised him, her brows pulled together. He looked up at her, briefly met her eyes before looking back down at his gloved hands.
"I see." The President stood and walked over to the map of the world on the wall behind him. "I guess... I shouldn't be surprised. The United Nations would consider this to be domestic unrest." She sighed, her shoulders drooping for a moment, then remembering who and where she was, straightened up, and clasp her hands together behind her, her eyes sweeping over the North Atlantic.
"What is the status of the media?"
"The only ones left are the war correspondences."
"And the civilians?"
"Those who wanted to have been evacuated."
"And the Embassies?"
"Except for Zimbabwe, the same." The President turned sharply. "Who from the Zimbabwean Embassy...?"
"Your old friend, the charges de affaires." The President's harsh expression softened. "But the others have left?" He nodded. "Good." She returned to her seat.
"How much time do we have left?" The Chief glanced over his shoulder at the absorbed group. "The Buffer Zone was breached early this morning. We have one, maybe two hours before the tanks will reach the capitol." He replied softly. The President frowned slightly, doing the math.
"Then the first assault teams should already be here." The Chief nodded. "They've set up mortar positions on the outskirts of town. They should begin shooting soon." The President sighed again, this time attracting the attention of General Inverse.
"Is something wrong Prez?"
"Lina, she's the president! You can't just call he-erk! Ite!" Her blond second in command protested as she grabbed his ear. The President shook her head and the Chief looked away, as the feisty general abused her aide de campe into submission.
"General, please start evacuating the grounds." General Inverse blinked, then let go of her long suffering second, and nodded. Turning around she faced the watching crowd.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?! You heard your commander-in-chief, move, move, MOVE!"
The Chief leaned over to whisper in the President's ear.
"Ever considered just sending the general in instead of the Army, Madame President?" The President favored him with a long, unreadable look. She reached over a picked up her near empty glass of water.
"Even in war, Greyweyrs, I'm a humanitarian." She finally replied over the rim of her glass. The Chief smiled faintly. The President drained her cup and placed the glass on the table, her finger absently tracing the rim.
"I hate this war, Greyweyrs. I hate what it's done to this country, I hate what it's done to the people. Most of all, I hate what it's done to you." She said quietly. The Chief blinked and raised an eyebrow. A silent query. She smiled bitterly.
"You've worked harder than any of us. Don't think I didn't notice the days you went without sleep or the reconnaissance missions you went on. I know better than anyone in this room the lengths you went to, to help my cause. My war."
"With all due respect, it's never been just your war, Madame President. It's my war too." Secretary of State Mekeio Chrona pulled a chair up across from them. "It all of our war. Your cabinet, the Congress, the people. We all own this war because we all made it our war. And we made it our war because we believe in you and what you are trying to do." The President looked sorrowful.
"I didn't run for the presidency just to start a war."
"We know that." Admiral Rodimus seemed to appear out of no where next to her. "And that's why the people elected you. 'Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute.' While it's always been the unofficial motto of the armed forces, it also made for one helluva good campaign slogan."
The President studied a drop of water at the bottom of her glass before hollowly replying.
"But I didn't expect to pay in so many lives."
"You could still stop the war." The Chief captured her gaze in his. "Just surrender. Unconditionally surrender and let the terrorist and guerrillas run the country in your stead." The President's anger flared and she stood suddenly. "And just give the country to those lobos - oh!" She looked around at the grinning faces.
"Point well taken." She gave them an annoyed look as she sat back down. The crowd dissolved, going back to there various tasks as they prepared to leave. Her gaze swept over the room, sadly noting every detail.
"I wanted, very much, to restore respectability to this office. That was one of my campaign promises." The Chief reached over and patted her hand. "You did." His portable radio crackled. He stood, drawing a glance from her. "It's time to go." The President nodded. Standing she picked her blazer and put it on. Outside the first explosions could be heard. She flinched, then drew herself to her full height.
"This always was a strategically bad place for a capitol." The Chief smiled faintly at her.
"As you say."
They moved together, him a little before her, down the halls past the great glass windows facing the streets. Then, as if recognizing a change in the pitch of the shelling the Chief grabbed the President by the arm and swung her to the other side of him, as the glass imploded in a rain of green fire. The president fell to the floor amid the blazing debris. She shut her eyes against the heat then opened them ...
... and saw Zelgadis leaning over her, bent almost double as green flames knocked him to his knees. A drop of sweat fell from his face to her forehead. He stood, shakily, she noted absently, fighting hard to keep from lapsing back into sleep-like coma. Zelgadis's posture was rigid as he glared back at the entranced Guardian. His soft retort rang in her ears, and strangely comforted her, a sweet if small victory. She even managed a slight smile as he choked over describing her spell-sickness. She roused herself to answer his question.
"Sa-" Zelgadis looked down, and met 'Dancer's unfocused eyes.
"What?" He asked, leaning forward a bit to catch what she was saying.
"Sangre, p-poison." She coughed weakly. "Poison...ous. Lethal. Sangre." Her eyes grew cloudier, and despite herself she drifted out of consousness again.
"Damn it 'Dancer, don't-" Zelgadis cursed softly as her eyes closed of their own accord. You're not helping matters. He thought sourly, even as he gauged the importance of her words. He looked up suddenly, watching the motionless Guardian. Mekeio remained rigid, but sweat broke out on her face, her brows drawn together as if from intense concentration. Surrounding her the darkness of the Forest shimmered and faltered. Zelgadis allowed himself a flicker of hope. The purple clad girl-child was fighting her enchantment. Now was the time to - he glanced back down at 'Dancer, and snorted softly. Ketsueki, ne? Soka. Without another thought he drew his dagger and flicked it at Mekeio.