The Summoning Stone The Sequel to 'Golden Arrow'      A fic by Blue Rose --Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, 1902-- Lady Anne Une braced herself against the drab wooden panels as another wave jolted the ship violently. Whatever wasn't bolted to the floor slid around in her cramped stateroom. She had given up trying to sleep hours ago, when the first wave hit the boat with a vengeance. The stateroom wasn't much, compared to what she had been accustomed to before she had met Treize Khushrenada. Almost four years ago, she had been traveling to London with her father, a powerful official of the German government. On the way to London, her carraige had been ransacked and her father murdered, leaving Anne stranded. Treize had picked her up on the side of the road and offered to help her. She and Treize had gotten caught up in her father's unfinished business, an affair now referred to as the 'Golden Arrow'. After four years, Treize and Anne still occupied his estate just outside of London. Anne jolted out of her reverie as she heard a knock at the door. She got up, shaking slightly as she got her bearings on the tilting ship. Treize Khushrenada appeared through the keyhole, and she opened the door. "What's going on?" She asked, inviting him to sit down. "I can't sit. I just came to tell you I'll be on deck with the sailors." Treize pushed a few wet strands of hair out of his face as he waited for her reply. "Trying to play hero again, are you?" She asked. "Maybe," he grinned. "Anyway, be careful if you decide to leave the room." Anne glanced at Trieze, his stance was casual but he seemed to crackle with unreleased energy. She could tell he was restless. "Is it that dangerous?" Anne asked, looking at him skeptically. "It's important we get to India by tomorrow. The sooner I settle Barber's estate the sooner we can get off this tub and go home. Anne smiled at Trieze's reference to the ship, it being a small independent vessel they had  begged passage on in France. No other ships were leaving for India at this time of year. "You never did tell me much about Barber," Anne commented. "He was an associate of mine a few years ago. We conducted brief business dealings years ago, something to do with antiques if I remember correctly." "What did he die of exactly?" "His son, who contacted me, didn't speak of that. He just said Barber had left me a portion of his estate and that I must come immediately." "Strange," she said absently. An awkward silence followed. Treize, remembering why he had come, looked around at her stateroom briefly before clearing his throat, "Anyway, wish me luck." "Right," she said. "Good luck." Anne watched Treize leave and sighed. Treize always let honor get in the way of his real ability, she just hoped he wouldn't get hurt in some reckless act. Treize closed Anne's door and jogged down the hall and up the stairs towards the deck. From where he was standing, he could hear the storm roaring all around him. For a minute, all he could see and hear was the storm. Treize's knees buckled under and he almost fell down. He shook off the sick and dizzy feeling as he looked around him. Overhead, rain poured in endless streams in an almost diagonal slant. He could hear shouts and cries for help, all of which went unanswered, lost in the unceasing roar of the wind and waves. Treize shielded his eyes from the rain as he looked toward the ship's main mast. The white sails billowed out in the wind, like ragged ghosts against the blackest sky. As lightning illuminated the masts in a garish glow, he thought he saw a figure caught in the sails. The figure strugged like a fly in a cocoon awaiting certain death. Treize looked around to see if anyone else had seen the figure. All the other sailors were slipping and sliding around the deck, doing all that they could just to keep upright. They weren't even paying attention to one another. He started towards the main mast, knowing what he was doing was possibly insane, not to mention suicidal. Trieze shrugged. He couldn't let the man die up there, all alone and lost in the storm. Not to mention the nasty surprise whoever changed the sails was going to get if Treize didn't at least get the figure down from where he was. As he reached the mast, Treize realized just how tall it really was. The mast loomed above him ominously, a slick tower of wet wood awaiting his ascent. Treize paused to take his knife out of his boot. Whatever the case may be, he was going to need it to cut himself or the sailor free. He placed the knife between his teeth, the way he had seen pirates do long ago, and managed to hoist himself onto the mast with all his strength. Here and there were little footholds, used by the sailors when occasion called for it. Those footholds were Treize's only hope of reaching the trapped sailor. It was a long and treacherous climb. The space between each foothold seemed to get longer and longer as he climbed upwards. The whole experience reminded him of the time he climbed the tallest tree on his father's property, only on a grander scale. The slick wood barely held his grasp, but the wetness discouraged splinters. Treize reminded himself to bring some gloves the next time he attempted a high altitude rescue in the middle of a typhoon. At last, though the time seemed to last an eternity, Treize reached the trapped sailor. From what the scanty light allowed him to see, he could tell that the sail was wrapped around the man, tying him to the mast at a constricting angle. Treize smiled slightly as he saw the ropes that held the sails in place, it was a long shot, but he had to try. If he could only get one hand on the ropes, he could get his knife and cut the sailor free. Treize made sure his legs were wrapped tightly around the mast and reached out for the ropes. The held his grip. He took the knife from between his teeth and cut at the sail in a risky fashion. One bad cut and he could injure himself or the man. When the cutting was through the man looked at Trieze but didn't loosen his grip on the mast. "Can you make it down all right?" Treize yelled. The sailor nodded. "Okay," Trieze continued. "I'm going to transfer my weight to these ropes. You make your way down and when you're far enough ahead, I'll climb down behind you." "What if the ropes fail?" The man asked. "Let's not think about that right now," Treize joked. The sailor nodded again. Treize gingerly felt the rope to see how strong it really was. The ropes held, and he transferred himself so that he was hanging by the ropes. Don't look down. Treize thought to himself. Don't look down. His grip became a little loose, and he gasped as his hands struggled to remain on the rope. "I can't leave you there," the sailor called. "Just go!" Treize shouted above the pain in his hands. "But..." The sailor stuttered. "Just do it!" Treize shouted in anger. "Just climb down." The sailor again concentrated on getting down. Treize watched in relief. The last thing he remembered was the feeling the rope burns as his hands slipped from the rope, causing him to fall into the churning waters below. Treize slowly opened his eyes. His body ached all over and his eyes stung with salt water. He slowly sat up in bed and saw Anne sitting beside him. She handed him a wet towel and he wiped the dried salt off his face. "What happened," Treize asked groggily. "You almost drowned," Anne said, her voice seemed far away. "I knew you'd try to play hero again." She took the towel from Treize and placed in a basin of cool water. "You're lucky the Captain pulled you out of the water in time." "And the man in the sail, is he-" Treize paused in mid sentence. "He's alive, thank goodness." Anne replied, sensing Treize's urgency. She sat down on the bed and looked him in the eye for a minute as if trying to speak without words. Then she turned and slapped him across the face, "What the hell were you thinking?" Treize rubbed his cheek, "I wasn't thinking," he replied. "I'm sorry." "You could have died," she finished sadly. "What would I do then?" "I don't know," he said softly. "I need you, Anne." "And I need you." She leaned forward to wash a bit of salt water off his face with the cloth. Treize gently took her hand and time seemed to stand still for a moment. "Mr. Khushrenada!" A voice rang out from the doorway. Anne swiftly got to her feet and stammered a greeting. The sailor in the doorway shrugged his skinny shoulders. Treize thought he couldn't have been over sixteen, his face was thin and the mop of wet dark hair made it look even thinner. "I just wanted to thank you for saving my life, Mr. Khushrenada." The young man said. Treize cleared his throat, "It was nothing, really." "Oh, that's where you're wrong," the sailor replied. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Mr. Khushrenada. You're a hero." Treize raised an eyebrow and glanced at Anne, who seemed a bit ruffled. She also looked very amused. "What is your name?" Anne asked briefly. The young sailor looked embarrassed. "Forgive me, Miss. My name is James. James Kell." Treize murmured a polite greeting, "And this is my companion, Lady Anne Une." Anne smiled at James, and privately thought he looked a little pitiful and  not cared for, "Shouldn't you be lying down?" She asked, not unkindly. James looked a little dejected, "You're right, Miss Une." Then he turned to Trieze. "Good night, Mr. Khushrenada, Miss Une." He turned his back on them and shut the door quietly. Anne looked at Treize, expecting him to say something. Treize looked away, pretending that the moment they shared before James barged in had never happened. "Well, good night." Anne said, starting towards the door. Treize paused, as though he wanted to say something, "Good night, Anne." As he watched her leave, he cursed himself for putting her in a situation neither of them knew exactly how to handle. Treize sighed. He blew out the candle and fell into a solid and dreamless sleep.