:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Title: REM Sleep
Author: The Kunai
Chapter Three
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
The bow was perpendicular to his body, and he fitted the arrow onto the string. A digit touched close to the head to keep it steady as he turned it upright, parallel, and he turned his body with only his head facing the target. The bow and arrow were drawn back closer to his shoulder, and his left arm pushed out while the right kept three fingertips on the string, adding more and more tension to be turned into kinetic energy. He squinted at the target a little, found where he wanted to go, and when he felt that he had stored enough energy his fingers slipped. Tor's arrow was now propelled by the force of the first vibration, and it was gliding rapidly. The archer, however, was startled that it had gone completely straight.
On the one that he had decided to aim more to the right. It passed the target board completely and bounced harmlessly against the stone walls of the castle courtyard, and a nearby Turtum jumped back into its metallic shell in fright.
He sighed in a frustrated manner. Archery was fun for sure, but…this was just pathetic. Of the eleven arrows he had shot, only about four had made it on the target; the rest lay scattered in various places with their conspicuous coloring distinguishing them from the grass or earth or cornfield that they were sitting in, and of the special four his closest was in the blue area. Tor was alone in this area of the courtyard at the moment, so there was no excuse that he was distracted.
He was just not going to be anything more than an infantryman anytime soon. The young knight sighed, his paw scratching through his short yellow locks on his head as he began to pick up the arrows and gently coax them out of wherever they had fixed themselves into. Well, okay, maybe he was distracted…thwarted, rather, by the fact that his mail buddy had neglected to reply for three weeks now. She was either in a lot of trouble, or she simply forgot all about writing. Rationality would have pummeled him, saying that there was no way she would simply drop him after all they had been through, but another something in his heart was dragging a heavy bucket full of water, dipping a ladle into it, and splashing the rational voices with it. Roberta could defend herself just fine; she had a powerful wand and a powerful wizard to protect her. Things back in the land of sands couldn't be that terrible…the sad spirit with the ladle continued to splash gloomily and his judgment swayed toward her not caring.
He heard voices coming around the corner. Tor hastened his arrow collecting, finding the ones that had bounced off the walls much more easy to get rid of than the others…no need to humiliate oneself in front of a knight or even a squire who was much better at archery than he was…there was the last one; he hurried to put them in the stationary quiver and loosened the bow so the wood would stay resilient.
Phew. That was a close one. The neopets that were talking had just arrived. Thankfully it was just Lady Prunella and Lord (formerly Sir) Lawrence sharing some kind of gossip, but he himself still pretended to be practicing with his sword instead in one of the cornfields, chopping down the plants effortlessly with a single swing from the well-crafted sword. One, two, three…organized slashes and the stalks fell to the blade that the original owner, King Altador, never asked him to return. But no-one would really complain about the corn, honestly; it was for feeding the Turtum, who began gathering around the fence and even tried to go on their hind legs when he tossed them a few of the stalks for them to nibble on.
"Good day!"
"Good day, Sir Squire!"
Lawrence waved and walked casually over to where Tor was "practicing", with his lady Aisha following joyfully and giggling at all the petpets.
"G'day, my lord and lady," the knight replied, sheathing his sword and smiling brilliantly, "And to this day I still don't know why Sir Squire sticks so much."
"Better be glad that I don't call you 'Taco', like my sister does," she waved about absentmindedly with a free hand, the other stroking a velvety petpet head while she kneeled lightly on the grass. Her lavender dress attracted the interest of the crowd of animals; some attempted to push their faces underneath the skirt out of curiosity. Both the happily married Lawrence and the lonely single Tor grinned at this sight…and the Lupe pondered over "Taco". He often couldn't tell who was the more serious between each other, Roberta or himself…she squealed "KITTIES" when she saw Meowclops and would easily have come up to a Drackonack to scratch their backs if he hadn't pulled her back. On the other hand, he didn't do much better around a Doglefox, and treated Miamice as if they were delicate flowers while whispering cute little phrases as he carried them, something that he would have gladly shot himself for if he was actually heard…
"So anyway, did you hear Tor?"
"Hear about what?" He asked, seating himself on the wooden fence surrounding the field with his legs dangling like a little boy. The Techo almost smacked himself in the head, deciding to instead make a waxing motion with his hand on his forehead. Tor laughed, "Well, if you start out so vaguely then how can I know what you're talking about! There must be about seventeen rumors flying about the castle."
"Oh, but this is really important; it's not a rumor at all. I can't even make a joke about this because our new Man-At-Arms is missing," Prunella nodded to further qualify her husband's statement.
His eyes widened, "Why?"
All hopes in his heart were frantically running around screaming that it couldn't have anything to do with the Lost Desert, none at all, and they instead of butterflies began to make his stomach feel queasy. Yet, he knew that had been a stupid question, because he remembered squire Grayson talking to one of the new recruits on clog-duty that their master had left on a mission to a faraway place and he wouldn't be back for about a week. It had been three weeks…he could literally feel the sun burning his neck in his imagination.
"Wow…" Disappointment can take the place of the sun, "I must say…you must have been really distracted in order not to hear anything at all. Norbert, who is the Man-At-Arms by the--alright, alright, maybe I can crack a small joke--well, he was sent off to the Lost Desert with a small group of troops to find his majesty's niece…are you alright?"
Hell no. His legs stopped swinging and his brows furrowed like they were attempting to copulate. The knight only managed to mutter a shaky "Yeah", gripping the fence a little tighter and assuring his palms that they would indeed get a splinter stuck under the skin. Husband and wife, the latter standing at this point, looked at each other and shrugged.
"I suppose it is a shock, Squire, that even our own Man-At-Arms hasn't returned. This happened once before when the Werelupes attacked Illusen, remember?" The lady said, patting "Sir Squire" on the shoulder.
Lawrence agreed, "And we all know what happened after that."
"So…who's been sent to retrieve them both?" Tor asked tentatively.
The married couple, again, exchanged glances in a more uncomfortable manner. Prunella's extra ears drooped noticeably, "Illusen was asked to assist…but she's disappeared. It's taken most of our forces to subdue the Werelupe pack…"
This was the main reason why Tor was practicing archery, so he could help keep those mangy lisp-prone dogs from attacking the castle and raiding the glade. He had also wanted to see the giant Turtums that they used to create a wall that blocked every exit from Meridell and Lightwater forest, grown to about twenty times their normal size…but trivial things like that were now absent from his mind. What mattered was that Roberta…
She was in serious trouble. That little being that was tossing the water on the rational voices was promptly tied up, gagged, dragged to the edge of a cliff, and shot several times until the bloody body fell off on its own accord. He had been barely paying attention while Prunella finished her sentence, "…so he's not going to sacrifice anyone else. Are you sure you're okay? Well, you don't need to worry your cute little head off, Sir Squire, Hagan's contacting Queen Fyora and they should get an answer any day now…so Brightvale should have it all under control."
They should, is the key.
The knight waved halfheartedly as he walked away from the bewildered couple.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
"I must speak with King Skarl…" The Lupe pleaded, "It concerns the Man-At-Arms--"
"You know, you'd only have to ask any one of us normal people to verify the facts," Said the Draik irritably, "He's in a bit of a mood thanks to this conflict with the Werelupes…you really shouldn't go bothering him with something trivial…"
"It's not…just let me through already."
He forcefully shoved aside the guard and cautiously opened the huge doors leading to the court. With a creak the boy managed to create a space large enough for him to squeeze through, but he heard the bark of a particularly grumpy king and instinctively he stopped right in his tracks.
"Boy, if you want to speak to me, you should come closer!" Skarl shouted at him from across the room; he was sitting on his throne, being the lump of blue blubber that he was, and making that characteristic impatient "bbbbruhh!" sound after he spoke. Yeah, he wouldn't be very intimidating, if he weren't the king and if he weren't a thousand times smarter than he appeared to be. Skarl was very, very unpredictable too…
"Yes your majesty," He replied respectfully, and he mentally slapped himself. This wasn't the first time that he spoke to the king! He was generally in his majesty's favor, so he had nothing to fear. Of course, he hadn't requested to go off on a mission during a fierce war with a tribe that threatened to take over the kingdom of Meridell…
Tor stood as straight as possible, so the king wouldn't complain of him having poor posture, "Your majesty, I would like to--"
He was cut off as Skarl said abruptly, "Get to the point boy! I don't have all day to listen to your preamble; I've already got enough on my plate with this conflict with those mangy dogs and Illusen's disappearance…so what did you want?"
To appear too submissive at this point would be dangerous. Tor nodded and continued, "I request permission to rescue the Man-At-Arms, your majesty."
There was a pregnant pause. He felt his insides bubbling slightly. Talking to Skarl could sometimes be like walking on eggshells barefoot…hopefully he hadn't said anything offensive. Or maybe the guard was right; this was trivial and he was going to be very angry…
"Well, that wasn't too hard, was it?"
At last. He sighed softly in relief.
"And by the way, no."
Tor's golden eyes widened considerably. Before he could stop himself he burst out, "Please, your majesty--"
Realizing what he had just done, the boy silenced himself instantly at the sharp glare that he received from the Skeith. Just wonderful. He had dared to plead with Skarl, beg Skarl, question his judgment. Oh boy…he didn't have a beheading to look forward to, thankfully, as he was a dependable knight that even the king couldn't deny, but at best he was going to be thrown into the moat to come back all soggy and humiliated. He closed his eyes, preparing for the order of a few lashes across his soon-to-be-bare back…
"I cannot afford to lose any more knights. You are, admittedly, one of my better fighters, even if you are an embarrassment at archery."
Thank god.
…he had been watching?
"I know why you want to do this--Norbert is a pain in the ass, and you barely know him--but my brother is handling everything. And right now, we must focus on the task at hand, which is sending those puppies back where they belong."
He sighed, yielding to his lord. In the back of his mind that little ladle man was back, saying softly that Meridell wouldn't be prospering so if it weren't for Skarl's leadership, so he was right and there was nothing that couldn't be done. They really did have to worry about those Werelupes, who had transformed into a mob much stronger since Roberta and he recovered the charm for Illusen, becoming more savage than before if that were possible and creating new weapons that were created out of bone and iron--and they were next-door-neighbors who wouldn't mind taking over the village and pillaging all of its supplies before turning it into another empty swamp. The furry bipeds were less involved in his thinking at the moment; Tor was just grateful that he wasn't being severely smote.
"Yes, sire."
The Lupe bowed again, even more deeply than before, and proceeded to leave. But he had barely turned around when he heard the order.
"Guards, throw Sir Tormund into the moat."
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Laughter was following him through the halls while he made his way back to the barracks. It was gentle, although someone practically shrieked in mirth once, and he winced. Yes, he did look like a puffer fish, after he had taken out most of the dampness on the Draik guards that helped him out of the moat. They didn't seem to mind too much, at least, finding the humor in his fur becoming spiky and his armor regurgitating the moat water. And they were the only ones that didn't make him feel completely humiliated…they actually comforted him, patting him on the back and saying, "At least you didn't get twenty lashes."
They continued to tell the gruesome tale of the knight that attempted to defy his lord. He had received fifty lashes, and about an hour afterward he had died while bleeding through his armor, still proudly practicing his sword-fighting skills and reopening his wounds. Actually managing to make the Lupe feel better was questionable, but it was an attempt nonetheless, and made him ever so grateful that he had some friends. Grayson was another friend, who gave him a sympathetic look and then helped him out of his armor as a good squire would do once he was inside the quarters.
"Hope this doesn't rust," the green Lupe, only about a year older than Tor, said while hanging it up on the wall near the knight's bed. He then fetched a dry towel, waited as the other Lupe dried himself off more efficiently and changed into new clothes, and then Grayson joined him on the bed, sitting at the edge and smiling cheerfully.
Tor blankly looked at him from his position, which was lying down on the bed facing the ceiling until he actually lifted his head a little to view his friend. A minute of this passed, and then the squire said, "You know, that was kinda brave. Even if you did get tossed in the moat for it."
How it spread so fast the yellow Lupe didn't really know, but apparently people knew what it was all about.
"What, pleading to the king?"
"Is that why?" The green Lupe tilted his head to the side.
"Uh…yup…?"
Never mind, then.
"Well…uhm…anyway, I wouldn't have had the guts to go up to King Skarl and ask if I could go and embark on a dangerous mission…I wouldn't have even had the guts to go on that mission."
"Which I am not going on…but thanks anyway, Grayson," Tor turned on his feathery bed, away from his friend, resting his eyes. The moral support was nice and all, but his soul still felt put-down. Every single night he was tortured by the same dream, where he would witness Roberta being punctured by violet crystals; every night it became worse and worse…would Fyora be able to help in time, or would his dreams become a ghastly reality? Either way, he personally wouldn't be able to intervene, make sure the job was done and Roberta was safe.
He didn't notice Grayson staring at him until he became uncomfortable and turned onto his other side. Another minute passed, but just as he was about to make a remark about how queer it was, the squire suddenly said, "Surrendering doesn't really suit you, Tor. Even I feel a little depressed…"
"What?" Tor sat up, confused. He listened as Grayson continued.
"You know what I think? I think that you're going to go and do the mission anyway. And you know what else? Just keep in mind that they've blocked off Drackonack ridge as well, so you'll probably need to go through the sewers."
"But why?" He asked him, as the minutes passed on feeling more and more like he was talking to a stranger. A friendly stranger, of course. But as he knew this squire, Grayson was a more stick-to-the-rules type of guy even if he couldn't enforce those rules himself. The young man of before would not have suggested anything so daring as going against the king's orders…even he, Tor, a more rebellious and adventurous type, didn't want to directly disobey his majesty.
But the other one just stared at the ground, finding the wood floors suddenly extremely fascinating, "…you know…when I finally woke up, I knew that a lot of things needed to change before I could feel better about going to sleep. Being under her influence makes a person realize a lot…"
That determined expression…it reminded the knight so much of that lovely sorceress…
"You have also been…well…anyway, you should leave just before daybreak…the guards won't be awake…"
They stared at each other, topaz gazing into…more topaz. Suddenly Grayson looked away again, as if embarrassed, and he promptly bounced off the bed and left for his own cot.
Tor decided to take a nap as well.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Again, he strained his ears to listen for any sound louder than the scurrying of Miamice in the storage room. So much so, the ears felt like they were just itching to hop off of his head and go their separate ways; if he could take them off while maintaining a link with them, though, he certainly would.
After all, what was he supposed to say if he was caught? "I just wanted to do some clog duty by going through the rubbish chute that has the most direct way to get to the sea"? Skarl, being a brilliant man, would easily see what he had been trying to do and the poor lovesick knight would get a lot more than just a swimming lesson. Tch…he could even feel the sting of potential whip lashes right now as he imagined them, even though he never felt anything more than a spank as punishment in his life. The feeling was estimated by the amount of injuries he had incurred from the numerous fights with bandits, eerie plants, Ixi Raiders, Werelupes, minions, lava…
They weren't as bad as they could have been, though. His armor protected him, sure, but no amount of armor would have defended him from the dark clouds that had gathered before. Instead, it was the amulet that was given to him by that old man he helped out. Hmm…somehow, the old guy had looked familiar…anyway, he obeyed that man's advice even after it was all over, putting it on religiously every morning and never taking it off until night. Even now, he felt the comfort of the old charm resting between his silver armor and his shirt, and it was trying to whisper to him that he will be alright as long as he worked quickly and ignored the drumming sound in his heart.
It pounded harder than ever before. Pounded not really out of fear, but out of purpose. Yes…he felt that drive, saw that goal in sight--rescue Roberta. And get past the "it" that prevented her from returning safely. What "it" was that he was thinking of was certainly a mystery…the only thing he knew for certain was that it had to be very powerful dark magic, and he would need to get her own amulet to her--which she left behind with him--in order to protect her until they could find a solution to the problem. Perhaps it was caused by another faerie? Hopefully it wouldn't be a rerun of the Darkest Faerie chronicles. That was just a pain in the neck, now that he looked back. Except for her…Roberta and he wouldn't have met if it weren't for that blasted hag. He smiled, thinking of how odd it was that he would be thankful to her even though she tried to destroy two kingdoms at the same time.
Anyway, with the danger of being discovered out of the question, he proceeded to tiptoe toward the lid of the chute. Paws curled around the rusted bars that hinted of sulfur and he pulled as hard as possible. Unfortunately, Tormund realized that no matter how many opponents he killed, he still hadn't built himself up to Skeith levels. How Fauna had managed to pull the lid away was a complete mystery…maybe she used a spot of magic, something that he had absolutely no talent in except when he wanted his supernova motes to turn into a spinning purple circular saw of absolute horror and apocalyptic doom. Oh man…if only…
"ACK!"
The Lupe flew backward, his tail trailing like a comet's tail as he landed on his back and slid all the way to the open doorway. As he finally stopped, he expected to feel a huge lump of weight on his chest and arms, but in fact it seemed to measure only ten pounds at most, the weight of a plump cat. So it turned out that it was only stuck in the hole--and his clumsiness had, yet again, gotten himself into another mess. He heard a "what was that?" somewhere in the hallway, along with the scuttling of feet that was way too close…how did he completely miss that?
Oh wait. He didn't; that guard had been slumped against the wall, asleep. The original plan was to sneak away from here, noiselessly walking past the guy and just jumping down the tunnel. Plan B would have to take place as the form of a--presumably young--Grarrl appeared in the doorway. The creature, resembling an ancient carnivore with the name starting with a T, was definitely not a good omen, and a fight was no way to start a sneaking-out. Still, Tor threw the chute lid off of his body, stood up, and gripped loosely on the hilt of his sword in several swift motions, glancing at him in the dark warily.
"Who's there, sneaking around?! Better not be a little grunt for those two thieves, or else I'll kick your little ass especially hard…"
He heard that shivery note as metal scraped against metal, and he saw the silhouette of a large sword.
"Please, shush…I'm just doing a mission for his majesty, King Skarl…" Tor blurted out nervously, the grip tightening on King Altador's trusty blade. He could almost see that cynical grin, but it wasn't totally unexpected that the soldier, young and foolhardy, would not believe him if it meant a promotion. Besides, the wolfy boy thought, he wasn't supposed to be trying to get into the sewer systems like a cockroach.
"Feh, you're a filthy liar, and a very bad one at that."
Okay, he wouldn't really deny that.
"Prepare to see your own heart beat in front of you, traitor of the throne!"
Practice against countless enemies had trained Tor to draw his sword and shield from his back to actually being useable in less than a second. It was very valuable as well, because the shield had just blocked an attack that Tor felt would have crushed even his Altadorian armor and almost knocked him off of his feet right off the bat. Parrying the blow effortlessly afterward, hearing the sheepish clang of the other sword as it whacked clumsily against a wall, his golden weapon slashed through the night to the estimated weak spots on his opponent's armor and he heard the cries of pain erupting from the toothy jaw. Taking the opportunity, the moment of weakness was exploited by a slamming of the flat side of his blade several times on the Grarrl's head and then ramming the butt of the sword and the rest of his body into the gut. Finally, he saw the thing collapse onto the floor and squeaks erupted from all around them…
Tor's breathing slowed a little bit.
That was very stressful.
He hadn't meant to hurt anyone at all. More would definitely be coming soon; he had to get out of here before he was forced to fight all of the infantry in the kingdom. Running on anything, his sword and shield were returned to their places on his back and they took up a lot less room while he jumped down into the tube and disappeared into its darkness. And this would also be the obvious reason why the storeroom always became infested with a myriad of creatures looking for a goldmine of food. Shouts above him, whooshing around him, the smells becoming worse beneath him…
This was like dropping from heaven and landing in limbo shaken and stirred in a bottle of old armpit sweat, soaked in diarrhea, mixed with rotten seafood, eggs, and dead skunk with just a hint of vomit. Suddenly the support vanished from his back, and he knew he was free-falling in an environment that he could barely see. He knew that he had just made a spectacular splash in an environment that he could only smell, and feel, and he hadn't the sense to open his mouth and gasp for air once he was assuredly on land so that meant he could…taste it…
Tor spit out every single time he knew he could and remembered to breathe through his nose while he swam energetically through who knows what, taking the path that he remembered was the way he floated as he never actually ended up in the moat like Fauna had said he would. Rather, he had yet again free-fell from a big pipe that jutted out into the sea from a little cliff where you could still see Cogham's famous steppes after a long wait. But this time, he wouldn't wait. He would get to Market Town, take a ship to the Lost Desert, and be on his merry little way.
Grayson really got to him…he only just thought of what would happen when he came back…but it was too late for that now. He needed to cling onto this drab little block of wood to stop himself from getting tired, and swat away the tentacles and Slorgs that had taken an unnatural interest in him.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
Roberta opened her eyes in a flash.
What she saw was clear blue skies, puffy clouds, sunlight attempting to feed the planet and burn her retinas. It was warm, comforting, and she was resting on grass that was greener than she ever saw it. And that voice…it was so familiar…
"Tor?"
There he was. His yellow wolfy head appeared above hers, hovering only a few inches from her nose and smiling even brighter than the utopian light. Much too close. She tried to get up carefully so their faces wouldn't collide, but the unusual intimacy didn't stop…he was still leaning near her, and he still kept himself very close to her…it made her cheeks warm and her insides rather tingly. The Acara cleared her throat and looked away from him, but not before noticing that he wasn't wearing his Altadorian armor, but a clean cotton shirt and jeans.
"What do you mean, I was just dreaming?" She asked cautiously. From the way things looked, with the myriad of pretty flowers and the too-perfect countryside scenery, she would have figured that she had died. She drowned in that disgusting liquid, for Pete's sake. But he just laughed at her and nuzzled her shoulder.
"You fell asleep, silly goose. We were watching the clouds and you just dozed off unexpectedly. I thought it was cute, personally…"
This really didn't sound like the Tor she knew; she looked at him skeptically and her mind muttered warily. Sure, she had always wished for him to call her "silly goose" or some other adorable pet-name, but so quickly? He may have hugged her back, cuddled her that morning when she had to leave, but he didn't like her this much as far as she knew. It didn't help that he was very against saying "cute" or other related words and hated it when she teased him and started pinching his cheek. And what was that? Watching the clouds? She could barely believe her butterfly ears, now earring-less and…her outfit had changed back to her noble press. Her wand was back, tied by her side, the old Sorcerer's wand that she bought a very long time ago in Faerieland.
"…but anyway, there's no need to be frightened my little buttercup--"
Roberta's hand gripped her wand tightly, and she pointed it dangerously, causing him to back away in a startled manner, "Who the HELL are you?!"
"Oy! Point that thing somewhere else!" He shouted, this time sounding genuinely frightened, and he batted it away with his paw before whimpering, "Geez, Roberta…did that nightmare really scare you that much? It's me, Tor. You know…the person who loves you more than ice cream…"
She flinched as he brought himself closer again, but soon felt the tickling sensation on her side when his paw touched her and she involuntarily giggled.
"The person who loves you more than the biggest bowl of fried juppie stew…"
He was practically all around her now, tickling and nuzzling her and she couldn't stop laughing. The grip on her weapon was very much loosened. All around her was that familiar smell of chives, peachpas, and clover flowers…
"The person who loves you more than the bigger than biggest bowl of fried juppie stew and the hugest bowl of ice cream that spans the universe…"
Her lips touched his, warm and fuzzy, soft and loving…she realized she was laying on the grass again, one side hot, one side cool and becoming warmer with each gentle stroke…her hand let go of her wand completely and she wrapped her arms around him…
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
A/N: AHAHA! Two chapters, in so short a time. I grin eeeeevilly.
Thanks SOOOOO much to the reviewers--Xanthera (please no killy ;;), Dragoon182 (will do :3), and Mermaid Ninja (I have no idea what the plot for the LD is...so...who knows). The support has given me so much of a boost that this fic will stay.
Now--and I know this isn't very fair--I must ask for more reviews from my readers. Reviews are wonderful and I love constructive criticism or praise. -hugs-
