Disclaimer: Not mine, and aren't we all glad for that?.
Chapter Eight
Choose Your Own Adventure
"As I've wandered through this world,
As each moment has unfurled,
I've been waiting to awaken from these dreams."
-Doctor My Eyes, Jackson Brown
Kairi rolled over and woke up. She rubbed a hand across her eyes, yawning, it was still dark out but she was too thirsty to go back to sleep. She staggered out of bed and trudged down the hallway to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, drinking it all and rinsing the glass before going back to bed.
Ten minutes later she was up again, blanket trailing behind her, stuffed alligator stuffed under one arm. She settled on the couch, turned on the tv and cuddled down into her blanket.
She spent the rest of the night watching 'I Love Lucy' reruns, not falling asleep again until the sky lightened into pink over the ocean.
When he heard the voice the small part of him that was still intact, still receiving oxygenated blood, thought that he must be dreaming.
Still, he turned his head, dilated eyes seeking out the speaker.
Riku was moving, fighting with elegant fury. The dark wolf had been taken by surprise and it was much too far gone to create a new strategy. It attacked wildly, without thought, all snapping jaws and ripping claws.
In many ways the fighters matched each other. Both powerful and aggressive, both deathly calm yet in violent motion. Riku was methodical and calculating, as the dark wolf once had been. The dark wolf was spontaneous and unbalanced, a decay of the mind that Riku hadn't experienced yet, but was possible for him in a way that it would never be for Sora or Kairi.
In time methodical would defeat spontaneity, barring any great mistake on Riku's part, but Sora was bleeding to death in a very immediate way, glassy glazed eyes shining feverishly in the moonlight, which made it a timed battle.
Luckily, magic could sway the balance. Light exploded from the keyblade, blinding in its intensity, the dark wolf stumbled, briefly sightless. If it had still been sane it could have fallen back on its hearing, focused in on the crackle of its opponents boots on the ground, tracking him as well as it could with its eyes. As it was it lunged blindly before blundering around in a messy circle, snapping at the air.
Riku struck it hard along the shoulder, taking a light graze along his forearm in return. He spun to the side as the wolf rushed at where he had been. It followed him, the breeze made by his movement stinging along its hairless muzzle and sightless eyes. Teeth scratched against his arm, driving the light metal into his skin in six sharp punctures.
Riku hissed sharply, a word exhaled in pain, and blue black smoke twisted around the dark wolf, tearing and twisting its already grotesque form. It screamed and fell away, eyes wide with furious terror. Blood gushed from wounds, old and new, half healed skin split open and spilled red down sides and flank, painting the ground. The dark wolf twisted and turned, struggling to pull away from the distorting smoke that brought back so many old pains. It slashed desperately at Riku, the blue haze trailing behind it. It struck at his side, teeth scraping against armor. The part of it that could remember armor, the part of it that would have gone for the face, the hands, the throat, was shrieking madly, incapable of thought.
The dark wolf was old. In its life it had known both woodcutters and princes, maidens and washerwomen, dragons and unicorns. It knew the way the worlds worked. It had lived a million years in a thousand different lands. And only once had an axe marked it. Back when it could be called young it had faced a woodcutter. It hadn't realized the power of weapons then, and certainly hadn't known that an axe was special. It had been cut, deeply, through the shoulder. Bone had split beneath the weight of the swing, sending the dark wolf snarling and wide eyed back into the forest and its den. It was months before it recovered, years before it challenged another axeman. That time it claimed his weapon first, splitting the wood in the strength of it jaws, before attacking, pulling the heavy man down and tearing into his throat, the blood looking just like any other blood. And then the dark wolf was no longer afraid of men.
Its shoulder began to bleed.
Riku shoved it away from him, pulling back and to the side, prepared to dodge another lunge. His armor wasn't impenetrable, and he didn't want to take more risk than necessary.
The dribble became a flow.
The dark wolf followed, vision cleared, raking its fangs through the air, catching them on the side of the keyblade. The impact was of sword against sword, numbing Riku's arm and slowing his motion.
The flow became a torrent.
Blood made the candy path slick and sticky. Paws and boots slid on its surface, dancing into a new position every second. Falling back and pushing forward, slipping left and stepping right. Muscle tore and the dark wolf began to limp, front leg unable to support its weight.
Bone split beneath the twisting pressure of blue black smoke and the dark wolf screamed.
Riku turned away as it fell to its knees, rough howl replaced by desperate gasping breaths. It was dead by the time the silver haired teen had reached his best friend's side.
The behemoth was terrified. It was alone in the woods, bellowing desperately, searching for some sign of its master. The boy had disappeared, slipping between trees that all looked the same and vanishing from sight. A few minutes later the shadow had left as well, racing away in the leaf strewn ground, antenna curled tightly.
The behemoth turned around in a circle, flattening the brush even more, the ground beneath it's feet was churned up and scraped deep. Like most of the heartless it didn't like being alone, it craved companionship with all of its being. It hated the dark forest with all the big trees that muffled sound and made it feel even more alone, even more splintered and separated. It hated the huge ancient trees that kept it fenced in, unable to know them down of fit between them. It hated the dark green trees that whispered softly horrible things, deafening it to all other sounds. Some part of it was deeply afraid that is master would call and it wouldn't be able to hear. That it would be lost alone in the dark old forest until it faded away to nothing.
It lowled sadly, sinking down to lay the dead leaves, and waited for morning. As much as it hated the forest it wouldn't leave, it wouldn't go anywhere until its master returned.
It would wait right there until he came back, or called. It knew that Riku wouldn't just abandon it, it knew in its bones.
The shadow was shaking violently by the time it reached the other search party. It crashed up through the brush at Lance's feet, gesturing wildly with hands and antenna. The woodcutter stared down at it blankly, too weary and overwhelmed to be moved to much emotion. Lance's brows knitted as he struggled to understand the message conveyed in the frenzied motions. It was obvious that something was wrong, and that they needed to hurry, but the little shadow never offered any direction to hurry in.
Remington and Anti Sora, however, were enjoying a much more cinematic version of the shadow's story. They saw the little group walking through the forest, Riku in the lead. They saw him stumble and stare, then start moving hurriedly forward. They saw the behemoth startle after him, surprised by the sudden increase in pace. They saw when the beast stopped dead, staring ahead, before turning to the left, then right, and peering into the darkness there. They heard it bellow, calling for the boy that had suddenly, inexplicably, disappeared.
Anti Sora took a breath he didn't need and turned to stare, smugly expectant, at Remington. The Riku-shaped heartless was still, staring intently at the shadow, reading its gestures as well as his thoughts. He knew that, given enough time, Riku would summon them, after that going to him would be easy. But the shadow was afraid, terribly afraid, and Anti Sora, though he might not have noticed it himself, was shaking slightly. Remington hadn't been in existence long enough to build up much of a rapport with the bearer of the dark keyblade, master of the heartless. He couldn't find the boy without being called or searching systematically through the woods, and the shadow was too worked up to do very much at all.
Remington looked over at Anti Sora, catching his golden globe eyes. 'Find him.'
Compared to the rest of the travelers, Mary and Taylor were having a most boring journey. They had encountered all of one monster, which whimpered pathetically whenever Mary threatened it with the crowbar and slunk back to follow them at a greater distance. It looked like a small black fox with silver feelers, huge shiny black eyes, an extra set of legs and teeny tiny black wings. The most threatening thing it had done thus far was pounce out of the brush to rub against Taylor's leg.
They could still smell the sinisterly sweet baking, but it was all around them now, hanging in the air like a thick fog. Neither knew which way to go, so they pressed forward, down the east road and to the small town at its end.
Mary sighed and leaned against a darkened building. "At least we can start searching the woods at this end in the morning." Not even she was stupid enough to blunder around in them tonight, she was just too tired, she'd probably trip over something and smash her head against a rock. The end.
Taylor nodded, eyes half closed, staring out at the empty street.
They were much closer to the drama than they ever would have guessed.
Sora was dreaming.
He was lying down on black jagged grass, and the sky was dark as death. Snow, most stained a deep red, lay in patches on the ground. The clean bits were just this side of blue and freezing cold. The red parts steamed. There was no light.
Sora tried to sit up and found he couldn't. He was pinned to the ground, held there by a steady, though not oppressive, weight.
He head lolled back as he relaxed into the dream, a slight smile on his face. He felt-
Sudden terrible pain. Lances of painful light scored his dream world, leaving ugly glaring rents in the landscape. The gentle weight turned into a crushing vice around his chest, making him gasp and writhe. Small darts of light wriggled into cuts he didn't know he had, heating his blood, boiling it in his veins. He screamed.
Sora was dying.
He squeezed his eyes shut and found they were already closed.
Riku kneeled next to Sora's convulsing form, hands held steady over the boy's thin chest. Erratic beams of light jumped from his palms to Sora's body, glowing along the keybearer's veins. The brunette's wounds began to bleed again, sluggishly, before his skin rippled and tightened, drawing closed over the rents in his flesh.
Another seizure, punctuated by rough gasping breaths and an odd inhuman whine.
Riku's eyes were open, but not really seeing. Sweat shined on his skin, making him look sallow and sick. All his energy, all of his concentration, was focused on the task at hand.
He had never been very good at healing magic.
The brown haired boy gasped again, and his eyes snapped open. His arms still flailed, but the rest of his body relaxed, sliding limply against the ground.
Anti Sora growled silently, frustrated. He glared around the empty clearing, as if waiting for something to rise up out of the dead leaves.
In a way he was. He was sure this was the right place, Riku's magic was everywhere, along with the sweet enticing feel of both the dark and the light keyblades. They were right here. Except, of course, that they weren't. There was nothing, just a small round space bare of trees. No sign or smell of his master. Nothing but the thick feel of magic.
He kicked the leaves, sending them fluttering in the air, and turned the full strength of his glare onto Lance, who was standing silently a few feet away.
"You can't get in, can you?" Avery Wolcott smiled, rather nastily, from his place beside Lancelot. His hands were bound tightly with a sticky black rope fashioned out of shadows and spider webs. The heartless had an interesting magic.
They had run into him, quite literally, as they followed Anti Sora through the forest. The one eyed boy had plowed headlong into Lance, knocking them both to the ground. He had regained his feet a moment later, preparing to dash off again, when the woodcutter grabbed his arm, yanking him back down.
They had glared at each other, lying there on the muddy ground, before Avery slunk back on hands and knees and waited for the other to stand, allowing himself to be bound. He had noticed the hatchet.
It had gone quickly after that. Anti Sora leading them unerringly to the clearing, Avery hauled along with Lance on one side and Remington on the other.
"What do you mean?" The woodcutter's eyes were hard, it was too cold to be afraid.
The white haired boy's lip curled slightly, "Nothing, nothing..." He shook his head and glared balefully at Lance. "It is here." he allowed grudgingly, "you just don't know the way in."
"And you do?" All eyes turned toward them.
"'es."
"You could get us 'in'?" It sounded stupid and insane, there was nowhere to get in to.
"'es... But I don't think you'll much like what you find." He glared at the ground, angry and sullen, before apparently making a decision. "Follow me and I'll show you." His voice changed, growing mocking and light. "I hope you know what your doing, Mr. Woodcutter." He smirked and led them away from the clearing.
Anti Sora followed, mouth moving in silent mutters. He knew it was here.
Riku didn't say anything when Sora's eyes fell open, just smiled, a touch of bitterness in it.
For his part, Sora didn't even realize he was awake. He still felt the pain of living ghosting through his body, stronger in those places where the damage had been the worst. He was shaking slightly, so when he spoke his words broke, giving him an artificial stutter. "I-I missed you." He smiled sleepily, and his eyes slid shut again.
Avery stomped ahead of the little rescue party, weighing morals against survival instincts. He could waste some time before going to the gingerbread house, walk them in a few circles, no one would know but him. Or he could lead them there now, in a matter of minutes, and most likely right into the dark wolf's jaws.
He glanced over his shoulder, sizing up his captors. There was a chance he could break away, they could never find the witch's house without him and they would all be safe.
Well, except for Sora. But he didn't really have much of a chance anyway, it was a million to one that he was still breathing.
Avery started at his feet, gritted his teeth, and whipped around. "Its this way."
Lance's eyes hardened, "That's the way we came from."
"So it is."
The woodcutter tensed, about to object again, before shaking his head hopelessly and following, what else could he do?
Avery sighed, glancing up at the godless sky and praying this wasn't the biggest mistake he had ever made. One in a million.
He wouldn't wait for it to be one in a billion.
Leaves stirred as the behemoth kicked out and rolled onto its stomach. It had been half asleep, lonely and depressed when it heard the dark whisper of a familiar power. It shook its head slowly before heaving itself to its feet and stumbling east, snapping the smaller trees beneath its massive feet, its sides scraping past those too big to fell.
It didn't notice the shallow wounds or the uncomfortable coldness of the ground, it completely missed the scent of blood in the air. All it knew, all it cared about, was its master's call.
It was wanted.
Things came together at 2:57 that morning. The three groups spiraled into each other like waves rejoining the sea. Lance and his band of not so merry men trailed into the clearing only a second before the behemoth, directed by its renewed mental connection to its master, trampled onto the candy path.
Avery, who had been leading the caravan, started with wide eyed surprise at the sight of Riku and the dead dark wolf. His shock was so great that he numbly obeyed his captor's orders without even thinking of tetchy retorts.
Lance, tired, dirty, and suddenly completely out of adrenaline was also docile, barely blinking as he was led to sit on the behemoth's back, a bloody and unconscious Sora thrust into his arms.
In fact the only drama at all occurred in the first three seconds, when Lance, horrified by the site of Sora's too still form, had been about to throw caution, as well as all rational sense, to the wind and strangle Riku to death. Luckily, that was when the behemoth stumbled onto the scene, slipping on the still sticky path, and knocking the young woodcutter to the ground.
After that, everything was boringly calm.
Like the others, Riku was weak with a combination of exhaustion and relief. Unfortunately, he was still the only one the behemoth would follow, leaving him stuck on the ground while the rest of the rescue party sat in a moderately comfortable stupor on the beast's back. He pushed a trembling hand through dirty grey hair and started back into the forest. Within a minute they were completely immersed in trees again, the gingerbread house having vanished behind the greenery almost immediately.
It took another minute for Riku to realize that now he had absolutely no idea which way he should be going. He stared into the woods, breath escaping in a sigh that seemed half gasp. "Hey." He stopped, shaking his head and straightening shoulders. Forced his voice to be calm, cold, and level. "Which way to the nearest town?" He turned to stare at his companions, one eye brow raised in question.
Lance blinked once before snapping into wakefulness and replying, "Um, east. And a little south, I think."
"And which way would that be?" Riku gestured to the sea of trees surrounding them. An island boy, he was used to always having sun or stars to guide him, the complete oppressive blackness beneath the leafy canopy threw him.
"Um, I-I'm not sure." Lance closed his eyes, trying to focus past a growing headache. He reached behind him and tapped Avery, "Wolf, which was is east?"
The blue eyed boy pointed with hands still bound together, "Thataway." He leaned to the side, trying to get comfortable where he was wedged between Lance and Remington.
Riku nodded, and adjusted their course, thinking it was much too early in the morning to ask exactly when and why they had acquired a prisoner.
