By Ktrenal
Chapter Ten - The Lepidopteral Angel
Here there was simply darkness, blackness so all encompassing and absolute that he could see nothing in any direction, nor even the hand that he waved through the void in front of him. He couldn't tell if it was because there was simply no light, or no hand to wave. He couldn't entirely feel anything, no movement of the air, nor even the feel of his clothing against his skin. If he were naked in this eerily silent void, he would feel the cold, and yet there was no temperature either, neither heat nor chill.
Were he pressed to describe it, he would simply have remarked that it was somewhat like floating, as if his consciousness itself were adrift in a great ocean of nothingness, lost and alone in the darkness. He found himself wondering idly if he was dead, and realised after a moment or two that he probably was; death magic was remarkably efficient in that regard.
Before he was left to wonder any longer, however, something revealed itself to his vision. It was something glimmering brightly silver in the distance, hazy and difficult to make out, although he could tell after a few moments that it was coming towards him. He was pleased, but not overly surprised, to identify the thing as a butterfly, shining bright metallic silver in the utter darkness. It fluttered before him like some lepidopteral angel, disturbingly intelligent antennae regarding him with curiousity.
It seemed to be telling him something, although the only impression that he really got was the vague concept of 'not yet'. This didn't, on the whole, make a whole lot of sense to him, and so when the butterfly turned and fluttered away from him, he swore with frustration. Or would have done were it possible to make any sound at all here. Wherever here actually was. When the butterfly didn't respond to his attempt to swear at it, he moved to follow it. It wasn't about to get away from him that easily.
And yet, despite his attempts to run after it, he seemed not to be moving at all, while the silver butterfly became increasingly distant, before finally disappearing from sight, once again plunging him into total darkness and isolation. What the hell had that message been about anyway? What kind of message was 'not yet'? Fucking butterflies.
Wait, he didn't mean that!
"Turk."
Huh? That wasn't a butterfly. The darkness remained around him, but there was that voice, speaking clearly enough to him. And with it came other sounds, although not many. An odd thumping sound seemed to echo around him, almost drowning out the other sounds: the voice and the soft movement of air.
Where he'd felt nothing before, he now slowly became aware of pain coursing through his body; his thigh of course, where he'd been injured before, and now the gaping wounds across his side. With every resounding thump that filled his ears he felt blood pouring from the wounds across his chest. And with every movement of air he heard, more pain flared in his chest, to the point where he began to wish the uncomfortably warm air would be still for a while. Beneath all of that, his entire body ached, which at least alerted him to the fact that he actually had a body once again.
"Turk." The voice was insistent and demanding, firm enough to cause Reno's semi-conscious mind to be reminded strongly of Tseng.
He let a soft groan escape his lips, and forced his eyes to open. "What happened?" he asked, experiencing that momentary sense of disorientation as he woke up a little more. He was lying on his back, surrounded by flickering orange light, and there was a man leaning over him, The thumping he'd heard turned out to be his own heartbeat, he realised after a moment, and the gentle rushing of air was in fact his slow, somewhat ragged breaths.
"Thought you were dead for a moment. You got the dragon though," the man over him said, a man who Reno's mind quickly supplied a name for. It was Daverrison.
"Did you..." he was forced to trail off as his lungs protested at the speech, and he forced himself to roll over onto his side as he coughed, feeling the taste of blood in his mouth. "Did you see it?"
"Yeah, I saw the whole thing. It was pretty impressive. I know you told me to stay where I was, but I just had to see. What was that magic it hit you with? I've never seen anything like it," Daverrison said, moving his hands to steady Reno as his body was wracked with coughs again, forcing up the blood that had collected in his lungs.
"Death magic... I don't understand... I should be dead..." Reno said quietly, before trailing off. This time it wasn't due to his body's attempt to prevent him from suffocating, but because he noticed two objects lying on the floor nearby. One was his gun, which he'd likely dropped when he lost consciousness. The other was the lime green orb of materia, one he instantly recognised as Destruct. He'd been holding it in his hand while he fought, hadn't he?
He couldn't help but laugh, although was cut off quickly as this almost caused him to lose consciousness once again, bringing pain a little more intense than he could handle. He took the materia in his hand, and then looked at Daverrison, who was looking at him oddly. "I understand. Offhand defense magic."
Daverrison frowned in confusion. "What's that?" he asked, curious despite the fact that he evidently felt they shouldn't be talking about it here and now.
"Very, very primitive defense magic. I can't really explain it to you. It's quite old, only ever covered briefly in my training, so I didn't even realise I'd done it," Reno explained, somewhat cryptically. Even half out of his mind with the pain that tore at him, he wasn't about to reveal the true power of the glowing spheres he carried with him.
Materia carrying armour and weapons had been developed along the principle that materia in a defensive slot could protect against a particular type of attack, while the same materia in an offensive position would add the power of that materia to a physical attack. This had been discovered by pure chance, when it was noted that a materia carried in a person's offhand during a fight seemed to have some protective ability; not as much as armour, but there was definitely some.
By simply neglecting to return the Destruct materia to his pocket, and instead carrying it in his right hand, Reno's offhand, he had probably saved his own life. The Destruct materia wasn't powerful enough to negate the effects of the death magic entirely, but it had certainly prevented him from actually dying. If the silver butterfly had been any indication, it had been a close thing.
"You still look like you're about to pass out again though," Daverrison pointed out, a frown crossing his features. Evidently, he didn't fully believe in magic enough to trust that this simple, chance bit had saved Reno's life, albeit narrowly.
"I'll be alright..." Reno replied, forcing his body to respond as he pulled himself slowly to his feet. He'd had worse injuries before this, and it certainly wasn't the pain in his chest making him feel so ragged; the death magic, despite not killing him, had left him aching and sore, and his legs wobbled slightly beneath him.
"I dunno. Maybe you ought to come back to Darton," Daverrison said; evidently Reno's condition was bad enough for the man to notice.
"I probably should, but I need to get to Midgar as soon as I can. I'll be alright, if you let me take one of the chocobos," Reno replied; he knew full well that while medical attention would be almost certainly necessary for him, Darton wouldn't have the resources to deal with his injuries. He would be better off getting to the city as soon as he could, and hoping to have some luck there. At least there would be a wider range of experience in Midgar, and so more chance of being able to find help.
"That wasn't in the deal, Turk," Daverrison pointed out.
"Yeah, I know," the red-head responded, trusting in the fact that he wouldn't need to persuade Daverrison, not when the police commander would soon give in, in the face of Reno's physical condition. To Daverrison, it would look unlikely that the Turk would be able to walk all the way to Midgar, although Reno himself knew otherwise. It would be hard and tiring, and probably no good for him at all, but he could manage it; Mako enhancements did enable him to keep going when by all rights he should have dropped. He'd rather ride, though. Just in case there was anything nasty in the marshes beyond the mines.
"Even so, I guess you could borrow the chocobo, and have it sent back when you get to Midgar," Daverrison said after a moment, giving Reno an intense feeling of satisfaction, which he concealed.
"Thanks," Reno said, offering the man a faint smile, just by way of showing some gratitude. Personally, he felt he was entitled to keep the chocobo, after what he'd just done for Daverrison and his town, but he let that slide. He got his own way, and that was good enough for him.
"Wait here, then, and I'll get your chocobo," Daverrison said, turning away from Reno and heading out of the cavern, back towards the tunnels that lead out of the mines.
The Turk felt momentarily offended, as if he weren't capable of walking back outside to get the chocobo himself. But, he reasoned, just because he was able to do so didn't mean that he should, and there was no harm in taking advantage of the fact that Daverrison would do this menial task for him. No point in wasting energy, especially when he knew he'd need it to get to Midgar.
Reno moved to lean against the broad side of a stalagmite, allowing a soft grunt as the pressure of the rock against his back slightly intensified the pain in his side. There really would have to be some good hospitals in Midgar, else he would be in some serious trouble. That was a problem he'd have to deal with when it arose, however; he knew there was nothing he could do to help himself now.
He closed his eyes, letting the soft sound of the cavern lull him into a quiet doze. It was almost silent, nothing more than the passing of air and the gentle dripping of water from a distant recess in the wall. The air itself was warm, and where before it had been unpleasantly so, now Reno found it oddly comforting. Death magic, if it didn't kill, tended to take a lot out of its victim, leaving them physically and emotionally drained; the heat, therefore, was welcome and gently relaxing.
The arrival of Daverrison, leading a clearly frightened chocobo behind him, caused enough sound to wake Reno with a start, although he noted with some distaste that his reactions had slowed somewhat. Not that the police commander seemed to have noticed this, as he appeared now to be having trouble pulling the large bird into the cavern itself. The stench of dragon and the form of the dead beast was enough to terrify the chocobo.
Reno pushed himself away from the stalagmite, heading slowly to Daverrison and the frightened bird. "You have to cover its eyes. What it can't see can't hurt it," he said after a moment of watching the man struggle with the chocobo.
Daverrison nodded, and shrugged off his jacket; considering the heat of the cavern, he was probably pleased for an excuse to do this. He threw the garment over the chocobo's head, and once its eyes were covered, the large bird almost immediately calmed, allowing itself to be lead into the cavern.
Heading forward to take the reins of the chocobo, Reno paused mid-stride, and turned his gaze to the huge form of the dead dragon. He walked over to the beast, studying it for a moment, noting where his bullet had entered the creature's eye and passed straight to its brain. That had to have been a shot in a million, and Reno dully realised that Deathblow materia was very much underestimated. The body of the dragon still twitched spasmodically.
Now he looked towards the dragon's horde and strolled over to it, kicking idly at a chunk of mythril that had rolled down off of the pile. This stuff was all worthless, at least to Reno, but another object caught his eye. The dragon, during the course of the battle, had managed to destroy most of its eggs; its rage to kill its attacker had resulted in the destruction of the clutch it had been trying to protect.
But somehow, one egg had survived, and quite apart from any desire to take care of it, Reno knew it would probably sell very well in Midgar, and he'd be needing some local currency to pay for his medical assistance at the very least, if not pay for the help to get home. He crouched down, touching the egg with one hand. It was warm to the touch, which was a good sign.
Reno pulled his backpack to him and opened it, pulling out a few of the towels he'd taken from Maggie; those really were coming in handy, far more so than he'd expected. These he wrapped around the egg before transferring it to the pack, fitting it in tightly with the other items within packed closely around it. It was secure enough. When he stood up and shouldered the backpack, he felt it noticeably heavier, and was grateful he wouldn't have to be walking carrying this much. But the egg radiated heat, and he could feel its warmth against his back.
Now he returned to the chocobo, and the waiting Daverrison, who had been watching him with curiousity. "You're taking the egg with you?" the man asked him.
Reno nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to need it. The horde, though, is for you and your town."
"Thought you might say that, somehow," Daverrison responded, smiling in amusement.
"Yeah, well, there's far too much for me to carry, and I reckon you'll be needing it more. There's a lot of mythril there, and since you've lost so many of your miners..." the Turk answered with a shrug. It sounded better than saying the mythril and few items of jewelry were pretty much worthless to him, especially considering the size and weight of it all. Reno intended to travel as light as he could, and the dragon egg was heavy enough.
"Well, I guess this is it. I gather you know your way out of here?" Daverrison asked.
"Yeah, I know my way," Reno replied, not particularly wanting to go into the details of just how he knew. But the police commander seemed to just accept the statement, as he'd accepted the magic. Reno was an unknown to him, somewhat beyond comprehension, and Daverrison wasn't the type to question things he knew he'd never be able to understand.
"Alright then. Good luck, Turk," the man said, handing the reins of the chocobo to Reno, who didn't immediately mount. He would get the bird outside and away from the dragon before he rode it.
"Good luck to you, too," Reno responded, flashing the man a brief smile before leading the chocobo across the broad cavern, avoiding getting too close to the dead dragon or its horde. Chocobos didn't have a great sense of smell, but certainly good enough to smell a dragon when it was in close proximity.
When he reached the opposite edge of the cavern, he turned back to look at Daverrison. He couldn't resist it, not after everything that had happened. "Oh, and by the way, Dave, the name's not Turk. It's Cloud Strife." And with a soft laugh, he left the cave, leaving a bewildered yet furious Daverrison behind.
Leaving the system of caves and tunnels was something that proved easier said than done. The long, narrow tunnels were all part of a much larger and more complex network passing through the mountains, and even with the light generated by the charged up mag-rod, it was difficult to navigate. He realised he should have claimed the torch from Daverrison before they parted ways.
These tunnels weren't the artificial ones dug by the miners, but natural ones, cut through the mountain by the passage of water through the relatively soft rock. This water, practically an underground stream, flowed across the floor of the tunnel, deep enough to come half way up his calf muscles. The water was cold, and unpleasant against his skin, now that it had soaked through his boots and pants.
Reno was sure that a small amount of geology had been included, for some reason that eluded him, into his training. Most likely because he'd never received any formal education, and so he'd been bombarded with various bits of knowledge, enough at least that he could feign having been to school. However, for all the things he'd been taught, he couldn't currently recall anything about the nature of these caves; he'd never anticipated having to travel through them without some way of guiding himself.
But then, being sent back in time into a world without all the luxuries he'd become accustomed to, and having to survive entirely on the basis of his own knowledge hadn't exactly been an event Reno had ever planned for. Forethought had never been his strong point, after all, and circumstances as bizarre as this had never really occurred to him.
Which, he reflected, was a little unusual for him, as far as the bizarreness of it all went. His imagination had often caused him to theorise about strange situations and how to get out of them, but not once had he ever imagined what he'd do if he was sent back in time. He'd worked out what he'd do if he was abducted by aliens, if he was trapped inside a computer program, if he was left alone in Santa Claus' house, if he became invisible, if he was given the power to destroy the universe, and a multitude of other ridiculous scenarios. But he'd never considered time travel.
So he fell back on the tried and tested method of what to do when lost and unsure of the way to go. He wandered aimlessly around the caves, trusting his senses to alert him when he found a way out. He did make the conscious decision that if he did meet someone he would stop and ask for directions, but in the face of things, that wasn't likely. But metaphorically, he did ask, since he would have if there was someone to ask, so no one could accuse him of refusing to ask for directions. That seemed to work.
Reno was beginning to feel a little frustrated with this aimless wandering, however; he was feeling the cold, now that he was out of the heated cavern the dragon had used. He knew it wasn't actually cold, but simply his body's reaction to the death magic. With a shiver, he tightened his jacket around his thin frame, and looked at the chocobo he still lead through the cave. "Think yourself lucky. You got feathers," he told it, and received a wark in response.
After a while, he came across a place where the tunnel they were moving through split into two, branching off in two separate directions. One was larger and wider, worn open in this manner by the passage of the underground stream. The other tunnel was much narrower, host to a far smaller and slower stream of water; this spilled into the larger stream, thus merging the two tunnels.
Reno paused here, looking from one tunnel to the other, and then at the chocobo. "Well, what do you think?" he asked the bird in a conversational tone. The larger tunnel appealed more, simply because it was more open, and yet from the smaller tunnel he could feel the movement of cold air against his face. This suggested that it might perhaps lead to the surface.
The chocobo warbled softly, and from what Reno could tell, it agreed with his estimation. The smaller tunnel was the more likely to take them out of the caves, and so it was that direction they took. It got them out of the water, at least, since the stream in this tunnel was small enough that it was only half an inch deep, little more than a flowing puddle.
Soon enough, this narrow tunnel widened out, becoming a small cave with a large opening at one end, through which sunlight shone brightly. Reno smiled, and pulled Daverrison's jacket from the chocobo's head, allowing the bird to leave the cave with himself following a short distance behind, quickly wrapping the extra jacket around him.
The view outside the cave was one that he'd expected; he was about halfway up the mountain, and would have a fairly long walk down the stony path before he'd reach the marshes below. Glancing up into the sky, he could see it was fairly late in the day, and the sun would set in an hour or two. Reno didn't particularly fancy crossing the marshes in the night; he'd heard stories about strange lights that could mesmerise a man, leading him into danger. Swamps were much safer by day.
The chocobo stood at a nearby bush, pecking at the leaves in an enthusiastic manner. Some kind of greens the birds liked, most likely. It seemed pleased to be out of the caves, something Reno could most definitely sympathise with. Stopping for something to eat seemed like a good idea though, and so he found himself a rock to sit on, and rummaged around in his backpack for the remainder of the food in there. He should have arranged for a refill back in Darton, he realised. But it was too late to worry about it now.
As the sun began to set, the temperature began to drop slowly, and the already cold Reno began to feel the change all the more. The chill of the air seemed to only intensify the pain he felt with every breath, and the wind that seemed suddenly very bitter pulled at him and cut straight through his clothing. He pulled the jackets he was wearing around him, shifting his position down to the ground below the rock and found a moderately sheltered spot. After a moment he pulled the backpack to him, absorbing the warmth radiated by the dragon egg inside.
Disclaimer - Nope, Reno's still not mine, and neither are chocobos; they belong to Square. Daverrison is mine though, as is my plotline.
Author's Notes - This chapter was incredibly difficult to write, and I'm still not feeling entirely happy with it. I really did intend to get to Midgar this chapter, but once again, I've failed in that goal. It really will be next chapter though, seriously. I don't think I can make an entire chapter out of the journey between the marshes and Midgar, but then, I didn't expect to make a whole chapter out of escaping the caves...
Again, my eternal thanks to WrexSoul for the beta-reading.
WrexSoul: Well, you were right, I didn't kill off Reno. It would have been a pretty short story if I had, wouldn't it? He has a long way to go yet before I'm done with him.
Tijuana Pirate: I fixed it, see? But I did warn about cliffhangers whenever I get the chance to do them, which is specifically why I ended the last chapter when I did. No cliffhanger this time though. I'm feeling nice...
Again, short author's notes. I have a feeling that with the word count of this chapter, it'll take the entire story over the 50,000 word mark, which is pretty cool. I've never written anything even close to this long before. To encourage this to go further, please read, review and poke. The poking is essential, but I like reviews too. More reviews please.