Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer and explanation.
Separate Destinies By Annie-chan Chapter Twelve: Silver DevilRiku felt like a fool. He had been trying to grasp the teleportation process—something proving most difficult, even with a psychic's ease of learning—and had decided to see how he had gotten along. He had gone outside the gate of Aerie's barrier and fazed out, aiming to faze back in at the gates of the nearest settlement, the forest city of Melyrn. He had instead found himself miles from any city or town and no idea how far it was back to Aerie. He didn't want to risk zigzagging aimlessly across the planet in an effort to get back, so he instead just took to the air and headed toward the nearest cluster of ylfe life that he could sense in the area. It felt like a relatively small settlement, but it was better than being lost out in the Wilds. From there, he'd be able to sooner or later get back to Aerie.
That was, by far, the most idiotic thing I've done in a long time, Riku chided himself. I should have at least told someone what I was doing, instead of just going out there on a whim. I'm probably going to worry some people sick before long. A phrase Riku had found himself muttering quite often was running through his mind: Live and learn.
He landed on the pinnacle of a high hill, the tallest land formation in the area, and looked around. He could not yet see the town for which he was making. There were huge expanses in the Wilds where no ylfe lived and few traveled, and Riku seemed lucky enough to have landed himself in one. At first glance, the area seemed harmless, even inviting. It was green, with grass, bushes, and trees covering much of the landscape. He could see a small river off to the south, could see signs of abundant wildlife. However, when he began to "see" with more than just his eyes, he sensed that kitschen frequented this area quite often. This was one of the areas they were most commonly found, which accounted for the ylfen finding elsewhere to live. The two species usually did not actively try to antagonize each other, but if they crossed paths, the results could be ugly.
Riku sat down on the hilltop, resting his chin in his hands. He was beginning to feel hungry, and wondered if he should catch something to eat, find some fruit or nuts among the local plantlife, or wait until he hit civilization. He had basic survival skills, so he knew how to catch, clean, and cook small animals, as well as seek out edible plants. He just didn't know if he felt like doing so or not.
He found himself gazing at a kitsche settlement he could see a little way off. It had been at least five centuries—many kitsche lifetimes—since Sephiroth had ceased his regular hunting and killing of the nomadic people. Riku had had no direct contact with them since, but he had watched them from afar, observing the changes that took place over time. He was seen by other ylfen as awfully curious in the matter, but he paid them no mind. One of the subjects that most interested him in school was evolution, both biological and societal. He liked to see which path, out of the hundreds of possible paths, that evolution took a certain species or society down, which result it would come to without the members of that species or society having any conscious knowledge that they were in a worldwide cycle of change.
Evolution was too slow a process for any one human to observe, but Riku was lucky. He had a lifespan that took him far beyond human scientists and historians, and he could remember from his own memory what things were like and compare them to how things are now. His own people, the ylfen, seemed frozen in time, like evolution had overlooked them and left them in a time long forgotten by the rest of the world.
It's because we're so long-lived, he thought to himself. Biological evolution can only go forward at the pace of birth and death of whatever species you're looking at. One being can't evolve into a different creature than they were born as, and each generation is only infinitesimally different than the last. Riku had often wondered how long it was since ylfe reached their current level and "stopped" evolving. It had to have been a long time ago, even by ylfe standards, meaning the origins of the species was several times longer ago than that. He had stopped wondering quite a few years ago, knowing that he would only start bleeding from the ears if he tried to figure it out himself. As for societal evolution, the ylfe seemed content to let their way of life be, meaning change in that would come very slowly and without any efforts from them.
Kitschen, on the other hand, were in a constant state of change. They hadn't changed much physically since Sephiroth had stopped killing them—a tiny bit taller on average, perhaps—but their society had greatly altered. They had not yet grasped the idea of agriculture, so they still survived mainly on meat and wild fruit and nuts, but their hunting methods had improved, making their success rate go up considerably. Their weapons were more efficient, smaller and made more skillfully than Riku remembered they were five hundred years ago. The shelters they used looked more elaborate, though still easily moved, and their clothes showed more skill and time in their making. Riku never heard much of the kitsche language, and what little he did hear he didn't understand, so how little or how much that had changed, he was unaware.
He stood up, shook off his thoughts, and started down the hill. He may as well conserve his energy and just walk. It would take longer than if he flew, but he didn't know how far he had to go until Aerie. Besides, he felt like walking for once. It's easier to enjoy nature if you're on the ground.
He walked steadily, keeping the sense he got of the ylfe town directly in front of him, so he didn't stray off course and take longer than he needed. It had been a little over an hour since he reached the bottom of the hill when he heard something. It was labored breathing. It sounded female, and it was coming from one spot. He had just entered a spray of trees, so he couldn't see who was making the noise. She sounded either strained or in pain, and he felt an instinctive feeling of sympathy go through him. Moved by both that sympathy and curiosity, he sought out the source…
…and stopped dead in his tracks when he found it. It was a kitsche female, adult but still very young. She was on her back, her knees bent and her feet planted firmly on the ground, and in her hands was a strip of tough leather, which she bit down on hard whenever she tensed up and strained.
She was giving birth.
Riku swallowed, knowing he should leave immediately. Kitsche females went outside the community to birth their young, but they never went alone. Close by, out of sight, there were always a male, usually her mate, armed and watchful to keep away any predators attracted by the smell.
Before he could leave, though, he suddenly had a sharp bone spearhead against his pale throat. A young male, the baby's father, was between Riku and the female, rage burning in his dark eyes. Riku instinctively put up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to attack, but had to spring backward to avoid getting his throat impaled. He seized hold of the kitsche's nearest wrist, pulling him toward himself and getting a hold of the upper arm, as well. The kitsche snarled, but before he could attack again, Riku had jerked him into the air, up over his head, and down again hard onto the ground.
Taking no chances, Riku launched himself into the air. He had been so focused on keeping the ylfe town in front of him that he hadn't realized that he had wandered a little too closely to the kitsche camp that he had seen from the hilltop. Too late, he realized that, in his haste to get away, he had taken off in the direction of the camp, and was now flying over it. Cursing viciously, he abruptly changed directions, but a searing pain in his right arm made him falter and almost fall. To his horror, he saw a long, brown-feathered arrow skewering his upper arm, the bloody point glistening in the sunlight. It was a poisoned arrow, the pain Riku felt from it far exceeding the pain he would have felt if just a plain arrow had pierced his flesh.
He was losing speed and altitude, the enhanced pain starting to overcome his concentration.
Damn it! he swore. Focus! Fly straight!
Another rammed into his lower ribs, making him scream hoarsely and lose all control. He plummeted to the ground, paralyzed with pain and powerless to slow his descent. When he hit the ground, a grinding crack resounded in his ears.
Pain. PAIN.
He moaned piteously. His hip had broken on impact, flooding his already frazzled nerves with pure agony, blinding and deafening him in its intensity. He hadn't even time to send a distress signal to anyone who may be close enough to hear, when the anguish overloaded and overwhelmed his tough yet still breakable system.
He fainted dead away.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Nnngh…"
Riku awoke slowly, aware of an ache that seemed to permeate every fiber of his being. It was dark, and he could see two of the world's ten moons immediately above him. Why was he sleeping outside?
His memory suddenly came back to him, and he jerked in surprise. The movement sent spikes of unbearable pain shooting through him, and he barely bit back a scream. That's right. He had been shot twice with poisoned arrows, and his hip was broken. His hip felt mangled and abused, as if it had been jostled repeatedly after being broken.
He managed to turn his head, a sick feeling of dread washing over him. He was in the center clearing of the kitsche camp, off to the side and partly in shadows. They had dragged him here after bringing him down, unmindful of the massive injury he had taken in the fall.
Why haven't they killed me yet? Riku thought. He was glad to be alive, but the pain he was in didn't make living seem much better than dying. He turned his attention to his own body, trying to stave off the hurt. His mind was clouded, both from his screaming nerves and from the poison on the arrowheads, and he had to fight for a long time to get the pain to lessen. Even then, it was still paralyzing, but he could at least think a little straighter.
Heal, he thought. Must heal.
A blood-freezing scream ripped through the air, and every kitsche in that camp jumped. Riku had tried to cast a healing spell on himself, but where he should have felt a soothing coolness, he felt nothing but a mind-numbing pain. The poison, though not lethal, had the effect of making it extremely painful to do much of anything, even use magic. The kitschen, realizing what it was, went back to their business. Riku, on the other hand, lay trembling on the cold ground, barely keeping tears from falling.
Why?! Why?! Riku mentally cried. What could possibly be in this poison to make magic painful like this?
A small group of males were relatively near to him, speaking amongst each other. Among them was the young one who had attacked Riku in defense of his mate. He looked stiff and sore from Riku throwing him to the ground, but he was otherwise fine.
Not knowing exactly why he did so, Riku gathered all his remaining strength and turned his attention to the conversation. Largely leaving magic out of it, he let his awareness spread out over them, utilizing as exclusively as he could his telepathy. Maybe he could understand what they were saying, the idea if not the words themselves.
That new poison the witchdoctor concocted seems to work as expected, one said. The ylfe doesn't seem to be able to do anything without hurting.
How does it work? another asked.
How should I know? the first snapped. If medicines and poisons were so easily understood, wouldn't everyone be able to make them?
I guess, the second one admitted.
Riku groaned inwardly. Until the poison wore off, he'd be unable to heal himself. He highly doubted he'd live until it wore off, considering who had him.
Who cares about the poison? a third cried. Today is the tribe's lucky day! We brought down the Silver Devil!
On his first appearance in many generations, a fourth agreed. This is a lucky day for our entire race. He hadn't the chance to kill anyone yet, and he won't ever again have that chance.
The tribe leaders have ordered him sacrificed to make sure he doesn't rise from the dead and come back again, the first said. It's why we weren't allowed to kill him where he fell.
They think I'm my father, Riku thought groggily. Sephiroth's yearly killings must have made him a legend among the kitsche, a creature to fear and avoid, the sight of him heralding coming death. He must be the "Silver Devil" they are talking about. Since Sephiroth had had no contact with kitschen in the centuries since Riku had gotten him to stop his killing, no kitsche alive in the past several generations had actually seen the Silver Devil, and Riku's coloring and stature would have made the description in the legend fit him just as well as it fit his father.
He looks just as the legends say, the youth who had attacked Riku said. That hair and those eyes…even kitschen know that those are exceedingly rare colors, especially together. It has to be him. Who else would look like that?
No! Riku cried mentally. I look like him, but I'm not him! Using sheer force of will, he rose up a little father above the pain, gritting his teeth as he cast the same spell that let him learn ylfe on himself so he could communicate with the kitsche. I'm not…him, he croaked with no small difficulty, the kitsche words difficult to get his tongue around, especially in his state, and most of his concentration taken up with forcing the pain back.
The group near him and several others around them looked at Riku in surprise. He was weak, agonized, and half-dead, yet he had suddenly spoken in their own language.
Don't lie, one of the males near him said. Of course you are. Who else looks that?
My father, Riku answered. It was my father who killed…my father who hunted…
Don't lie! the kitsche said again angrily, gripping Riku's collar. You'll die for what you've done! Your blood will spill on the rocks tonight, and it will nourish nothing! You—
I'M NOT THE ONE YOU WANT, YOU STUPID KITSCHE BASTARD!!!!! Riku cut him off, his anger fueling his waning strength. You'll never catch him! You can never even hope to catch him! He can kill a thousand of you without even getting a scratch! What do you have that could stand up against him?!
Bring him, a voice said from around the bonfire burning at the center of the camp. The elder is ready to perform the sacrifice.
No more lies, the kitsche who had a hold of Riku grinned nastily. It's about time you ageless monsters began dying by kitsche hands again. It was true that the number of ylfe deaths due to kitsche attacks had declined in recent years, and it apparently displeased the more belligerent kitschen.
Riku tried to growl, but it came out a small whine, the pain beginning to overtake him again as he was unceremoniously dragged over to the fire. He saw his death in the eyes of those around him, and he was too weak to fight back.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sephiroth was troubled. Riku was nowhere in Aerie, and he had looked everywhere. Cloud, Samara, and Darius had searched, too, but they found no more than Sephiroth did. It wasn't like Riku to go someplace without at least saying that he was going, and he had disappeared without a word.
It was full dark now, and still no sign or word from him. Fleeting thoughts had gone through Sephiroth's mind, but he shuddered and didn't want to think about them. Finally, though, he couldn't ignore it any longer. He left the house and headed for the city gates, calling for the guards on duty to open up.
Standing outside the gates, he stretched his senses outward. If he couldn't pinpoint his location, perhaps he could at least figure out what direction he had gone in. The trail left behind by a person's individual spiritual signature was faint and hard to track, but it was there for those who knew how to find it.
He found his son to the northeast, and an abrupt horror came over Sephiroth. He was smack in the middle of what had to be a kitsche camp, and his spirit was weak, wavering. He could very well die in a very short time.
Sephiroth almost howled in dismay and anger. These heathens had taken his soulmate away from him! What more did they want?!
He was gone, teleported away from the Aerie gates. He would rip out all their hearts with his own hands if that were what it took to save his youngest child. That tribe was doomed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The elder of the tribe was speaking some kind of prayer or incantation. Riku had withdrawn the spell to understand them. He didn't care anymore what they were saying. He was being sacrificed to some god he had never even heard of, he was miles from home, and he was sick with weakness and worry.
He feared for his father's mental health. Sephiroth had lost his soulmate to kitschen, and had suffered centuries of torture because of it. Riku had finally broken through to his father's mind, had finally begun to help him repair the damage it caused, had finally begun to enable his father to live in relative peace until his time to die came. What would Riku's death at kitsche hands do to him?
He's so strong, yet so fragile, Riku thought, morose. He could reverse the repairs he's made in a second. He—
He was right behind the elder.
Riku's eyes widened, his jaw dropping open in surprise and fear. The entire crowd of spectators had frozen in horror. The animalistic fury in Sephiroth's eyes made them blaze almost white, and his sword was poised to strike. Just as the elder turned round…
"Die!" Sephiroth hissed, and his sword came down and cleaved the elder's skull in half, spraying blood and bits of brain tissue everywhere. Without another word, Sephiroth grabbed the neck of the corpse and threw it into the fire with such force that the wood was scattered, sparks flying everywhere.
The kitschen were in a panic, all trying to flee as fast as they could. Sephiroth, however, had no intention of sparing any of them, even the children, and he had thrown up around the camp a barrier-like field that repelled living things. The kitschen were fenced into their camp.
"Father…" Riku managed.
"Don't try to stop me, Riku," Sephiroth warned, already in the process of conjuring up an attack.
"It hurts!" Riku moaned, not caring what Sephiroth did to these kitschen. All he wanted was for the pain to leave him.
"Sin Harvest," Sephiroth growled, and every heart in the camp but his and Riku's stopped. As if to make sure they were dead, the ground suddenly erupted in a maelstrom of fire, engulfing and incinerating everything. Sephiroth and Riku were in the eye of the storm, unharmed.
"I n-need a healing," Riku said quietly as his father knelt down beside him. He tensed up and shrieked when Sephiroth touched his hip, as if to see if it was broken or just swollen from some impact. Sephiroth swore harshly.
"What happened to you, Riku?!" he cried. "What did they do?!"
"Shot me," Riku explained slowly. "Two arrows. Poisoned tips. My hip is from the fall. I broke it." He was having to take a breath every few words, and he was sweating. "Poison makes me hurt more."
Sephiroth took a hissing breath. "There are some plants with chemicals in them that enhance pain. One or more of them are probably what this poison is made from."
"P-please," Riku moaned. "I n-need—!"
"I should take you home, first," Sephiroth said, and Riku felt a white power surround and fold over them. The night faded out, and when it faded back in, he found that they were just outside Aerie's main gates. Sephiroth hesitated, then picked his son up from the ground as gently as he could.
Riku yowled.
"I'm sorry, Riku!" Sephiroth apologized, holding him as still and steady as he could. "I have to get you into the city! We can't just stay out here!"
Riku didn't reply, merely gritting his teeth so hard that he worried that they might break. Only a little further, and he would be healed. Just a little further…
"Damn it!" Sephiroth bit as he laid Riku back down on the ground inside the gates, puzzling Riku as to why he didn't continue on toward home. He was tired. Sin Harvest on so many at once had worn him down. Still, he couldn't let his son suffer any more than he already has. He had to attempt at least a partial healing right here.
"Oh, my," a soft voice said, startling both father and son. A woman was nearby, and neither had noticed her. She was now coming toward them.
"What are you doing up here this late at night?" Sephiroth asked her as she knelt down unasked next to Riku, who was getting close to fainting again.
"I could ask you the same thing, though your reason is more obvious," the woman answered. Sephiroth had no idea who this woman was. The moonlight showed that she had strawberry-blonde hair, but that didn't help him identify her. "If you must know, my brother and I have just come here from Melyrn to visit some cousins, and the gates had just barely closed behind us before they opened up again for you." Sephiroth noticed that a man stood a little apart from them, apparently the brother she mentioned.
"Can you help my son?" he asked.
"Yes," the woman answered, sounding troubled. "I am a healer." She was examining Riku, and shuddered at what she found. "What happened?!"
"Kitschen," Sephiroth spat. "That's all you need to know."
The woman nodded, wordless, and placed her hands on Riku's torso. Before he could cry out or even jerk away, he was suddenly flooded with a powerful healing spell, which penetrated deep into his body, seeking out all of the poison to smother and neutralize it. His wounds began to close and his bones to mend, and sweet relief from pain washed gently over him.
The sudden change of sensation was too much for him, and he fell back down into the dark world of his subconscious.
To be continued…Author's Notes: Well, there's chapter twelve. I don't know how it turned out, truthfully. I was kinda sleepy as I wrote it, but not sleepy enough to not be able to sit at the computer and type. This chapter and chapter eleven are probably the closest looks we'll get at kitschen. I don't plan to have them figure into the story much after this, and they'll most likely return to the presence they had before as the largely unknown outsiders who caused much of Sephiroth's grief and madness. If you like kitschen and want to see more, sorry. So, what do you guys think? Tell me in a review or an email to mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!
I've noticed that I make Riku bleed a lot in this story, or at least get hurt a lot. *nervous giggle* ^_^;;
