Yes! Here's the second chapter. Sorry it took me so long to post it. I meant to post it yesterday (Thursday) but there was a stupid error with my account that wouldn't let me upload documents. Hopefully it won't happen again, but it probably will, so be prepared for more delays as a result (sigh). Sorry. Enjoy.
Chapter 2
Awakening
Ansem quickened his pace as he headed to the infirmary. Though he hadn't shown it in the presence of his apprentices, he was so excited he could barely contain himself. A person from another world! How long had he waited for something like this?
"Slow down, Ansem," he thought. "You don't know that the patient is actually from another world. It's a possibility, but it's not a fact."
He grinned. But it certainly was exciting.
For the past several months, Ansem and his apprentices had been studying the concept of other worlds. Ansem wasn't sure why he studied this; it wasn't as if this kind of research would help his people. Perhaps he did it as much out of boredom as anything.
Ansem had spent much of his rule helping to improve and protect the Radiant Garden. In fact, he had spent so much time on this, that his kingdom was now a veritable paradise. No enemies threatened them. The problem of natural disasters, flooding in particular, had been ingeniously dealt with by turning parts of the stream into the castle's power source. Above all, Ansem was beloved by his subjects. He gave them his respect, he listened to their concerns, and in return they respected him. Ansem knew that he should be happy. And yet… he was not satisfied.
Ansem knew he was being selfish, but he was bored. What else could he do for his people but continue to rule them? He missed the big, idealistic projects of his youth. He missed the research he had once done. So, he had begun to study other worlds.
The idea of other worlds had long been the subject of legends and folklore among the people of Radiant Garden. It was said that the world had once contained many different lands, many different people, but for reasons that varied from tale to tale, the lands had broken apart, each becoming small worlds of their own. The worlds were now divided by time and space, by unknown barriers that were impossible to cross.
It was difficult to tell if these legends were true. Certainly the world inhabited by the people of the Radiant Garden was a very small piece of land. As far as anyone knew, if you started walking straight from anywhere in Radiant Garden, you would find yourself back where you had started in a day or so, without ever encountering another living soul. It seemed strange that an entire world could be that small.
But, on the other hand, there was no way to prove that other worlds existed. If the other worlds did exist, there was no way to get to them. No one had yet found a way to invent a machine that could fly to the stars, for space was surely where the other worlds could be found.
"But," thought Ansem sadly. "Even if you could reach the stars, the worlds are separated and blocked from each other. It would be hopeless."
He paused as he passed an open window, and stared up at the night sky. It was clear now, and the stars shone brightly. So many stars… could each star be its own world? Perhaps this stranger really was the answer, the answer to everything. He sighed. He certainly hoped so.
Before Ansem knew it, he was before the infirmary. Despite the size of the castle, the door was small. Ansem had to crouch to enter. He opened the door and peeked inside.
The entrance room of the infirmary was small and earthy brown, for that was the way Krista the healing woman liked it. The walls were paneled wood, and a work desk littered with roots and herbs sat in the corner. A white curtain covered the area where the patients slept.
"Krista?" said Ansem whispered. He didn't want to wake any patients who could be sleeping in the other room. "Krista? Are you there?"
In answer, the curtain rustled, and a hunched old woman came out from behind it. Her face was wrinkled from the years, and her hair, tied in a bun, was gray with streaks of white. She smiled at Ansem, and her bright green eyes danced.
"Come in, your Majesty," she said pleasantly. "Here to see the patient? I was just about to make some medicine, but you may come in anyway."
Ansem stepped around the door and closed it behind him.
"How is the patient?" he asked anxiously.
"In surprisingly good shape."
She walked to her desk in the corner and picked up a mortar and pestle. She began to grind the contents as she talked.
"He's severely dehydrated, very hungry, and weak, but not much worse off than that. I had to get him some new clothes, his old ones were soaked, and he needs a bath, but I'm surprised he doesn't have a chill. He was out in that storm, after all…"
Krista finished her work and spooned a thick paste from the mortar and into a small envelope. She sealed it tight.
"But he's woken up?" Ansem asked. "I'd like to talk to him."
"No, I'm afraid not. He hasn't woken up yet."
Krista walked over and thrust the envelope into Ansem's hands. He stared.
"Krista, what…?"
"Put this in your water or tea before bedtime," she said, interrupting him. "and you will sleep peacefully the whole night long. I often give it to my little granddaughter when she's ill. It works like a charm."
"But… but I don't need…"
"Take it," the old woman said firmly. "I hear you've been staying up nights."
"I've been staying up because I'm working…" he muttered.
Even as he said it, he knew there was no use arguing with Krista. No matter how old he was, she would always treat him like a child. He pocketed the envelope with a quick thank you.
"Krista," he said. "Can I please see the patient now?"
A hint of a whine crept into his voice. He groaned inwardly. Now he really was acting like a child.
"You may see him," Krista replied, "but, please, don't try to wake him. He needs to rest."
"Fine," Ansem said with a nod. "Lead on."
"This way."
To Ansem's surprise, she led him not to the white curtain, but to another curtain across from it. She pulled this back to reveal a small alcove, containing only a nightstand, a chair, and a bed occupied by a sleeping young man.
Ansem stepped into the room. He stared at the man, and could immediately see that he was not like the people of Radiant Garden. For one thing, his skin was tanned a light, almost reddish brown, and his hair, despite his young age, was white as newly fallen snow.
Despite this oddness, he looked like any man. He had a handsome face, his features were broad, and he didn't look a day over twenty-one. Only his head could be seen above the quilts on his bed, but the blankets were twisted around his body, as if he was curled into a ball. His brow was furrowed in his sleep, as if his dreams were not pleasant ones. He gave a soft moan.
"Sit there," said Krista, pointing to the chair.
Ansem jumped.
"Yes, yes," he muttered. "Of course."
He sat, scooting the chair closer to the bed. His heart was pounding with excitement. This youth was from another world. He had to be from another world. If only he would wake up… Ansem had so much to ask him.
The man in the bed gave another moan, startling Ansem. It was louder than the last one. Ansem looked up. The man's right hand was clutching the bedclothes in fear, while his left waved in front of his face, trying to fend off an unknown attacker.
"Krista?" said Ansem.
She wasn't there; she had already gone back to the other room.
Ansem looked back at the man, who was moaning louder, his actions becoming more violent. Ansem felt a pang of anxiety. Should he get Krista?
The man moaned again, a sob escaped his throat.
Stranger though the man was, Ansem felt a pang of sympathy in his heart. Before he could reconsider, he reached out and lowered the man's flailing arm onto the bed. He patted it awkwardly.
"Um…" he said. What would Krista say to calm a patient down?
"Um… there, there…" he said awkwardly. "D… don't worry… it's alright."
To the king's surprise, the man seemed to relax. His moaning subsided. Ansem breathed a sigh of relief.
He studied the man again, and realized, as if for the first time, how young the man was. Young enough to be his son, really. The idea surprised him, but he smiled a little sadly. He had never had a son.
Ansem sat back in his chair thoughtfully.
"It's going to be alright," he whispered again.
For a moment, Ansem thought he saw the youth smile.
ooo
He was in darkness, a blackness so thick; he thought he would never see light again. Had he ever seen light? It felt as if he had been there an eternity.
He would have been completely blind and deaf had it not been for the images, colors and sounds that drifted lazily through his brain. Light, shadow, people he didn't think he knew, but might have known once, keys, keyholes, fluttering birds…
A voice spoke to him. Booming, ringing in his ears, reverberating against the blackness like the beating of a drum. He couldn't make out what it said, but he wanted it to stop, to leave him alone.
He cried out in frustration, but he had no voice. As he tried to cover his ears, he realized that he had no body. He was nothing. Part of the blackness. Darkness itself. Nothing. Nobody. He felt as if he was drowning in cold panic, and he couldn't do anything about it.
Suddenly, a new voice, calling him. Something brushed against his arm. His arm. He had an arm.
The blackness was swirling around him. He was hurled forward, falling incredibly fast, his heart pounding…
His eyes flew open. He sat bolt upright, breathing hard.
ooo
At first, the man in the bed couldn't see anything. The lamp beside his bed blinded him. He blinked, shading his eyes from the fierce light. At last, his vision cleared, and he could see that he was in a small white room. A curtain covered the doorway, and he was sitting up in a warm bed. He tossed his hair out of his face. It was messy and matted.
He looked to his left, and was surprised to find a person there, an old man, specifically. He was sitting in a chair, his head lolling against his chest, snoring gently. The young man found himself grinning. It was funny. Humor was new to him.
His gaze drifted over to a window. The sun was shining, and he could see green trees. Such beautiful trees. The smile stayed on his face. It had been a long time since he had been happy.
"So, you're awake."
He jumped, before realizing that the sleeping man was awake. He was surprised to see that the older man's eyes were bright red. He stared at the old man with unbridled curiosity. He seemed… familiar, somehow. Especially his voice. It was comforting.
The man spoke again.
"You, my friend," he said, stretching both arms, "Have been sleeping here since my soldiers found you in the Great Maw last night. And, I must say, it didn't sound as if your rest was peaceful."
The older man stood up and reached for the ceiling.
"Aw… that feels good. Yes, you seemed to be having nightmares. I should know, it took me quite some time to get to sleep last night. The chair was uncomfortable, of course. My poor back…"
The man in the bed stared at him. What was he talking about? He looked down at his quilt.
"Can you speak, my friend?" the man asked. "Because if you can't, I've been wasting my time down here. Well?"
The man in the bed looked up.
"I…," he stumbled over the words. He coughed. "I… I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble."
He was surprised at the deepness of his voice. He stopped talking.
The older man gaped at him in amazement and slowly sank back into the chair.
"So," he said, awe in his voice. "You can speak."
The young man nodded.
"I guess I can."
"Then, what is your name, lad? I," he straightened proudly. "I am Ansem the Wise, ruler of the Radiant Garden, also known as Hollow Bastion. Who are you?"
The young man thought a moment, and drew a blank. Did he have a name…? He couldn't remember. It was as if there was a white space in his memory, blocking out the knowledge.
He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because the man… Ansem, looked worried.
"Are you alright, son?"
His voice was softer than before. The man shook his head.
"I…," his voice was barely above a whisper. "I… can't remember my name."
Ansem stared at him.
"I'm sorry," the youth said quickly.
"No, no," Ansem laughed nervously. "No need to apologize. But tell me this; do you remember how you got to Radiant Garden?"
Ansem wasn't laughing anymore. The youth thought hard. What did he remember? His whole mind was blank. Slowly, he shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "No, I don't."
Ansem's brows furrowed.
"Then, what do you remember?"
This time the answer came quick.
"Walking," the youth said with conviction. "I remember walking."
"Anything else?"
"Nothing else," he shook his head. "Nothing else at all."
Ansem breathed out deeply, and sat back in his chair. He stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. He sat like this for sometime before speaking.
"Well," he finally said. "Well. I didn't expect this. This is a conundrum. It seems that you have amnesia."
The youth's eyes widened.
"Am… amnesia?"
That sounded bad.
"It means you can't remember anything," Ansem explained.
The young man looked down.
"How… how do I get my memories back?"
Ansem thought a moment.
"Well…" he said. "Well… I'm afraid… I don't know."
The young man sat down, hard.
"But," he was beginning to panic. "But there must be a way. My memories can't just be… gone."
His dream came flooding back with sudden immediacy. Without memories, he really was nothing, a nobody. He felt ill.
"Please," he said desperately. "Please. Is there a way?"
The old ruler gave him a look. It was a look filled with pity and sadness. The few lines in his face seemed to deepen with the look. The young man felt as if he would be overcome by the sadness of that look.
"I'll talk to Krista," Ansem said at last. "She's the healing woman. She might know something. She might."
He had noticed the hopeful look in the young man's eyes.
"I'm not saying for sure. But I will try. For now…" he looked at the man. "you need a name."
"I already have a name."
"Yes, but you don't know what it is."
"I'll know what it is," he said fiercely, "when my memories come back."
"Of course, of course," said Ansem, not sounding at all convinced. "But for now, we need to call you something. Just temporarily!"
The young man was glaring at him.
"Once you get your memories back, we can call you by your real name. But for now…" Ansem thought a moment. "For now, I'll call you Xehanort. What do you think of that?"
"Xena… hort?"
"Xeha-nort," Ansem corrected. "It means, roughly, "foreign walker" in the old language of Radiant Garden." Ansem grinned. "That description fits you well, wouldn't you say?"
"Xehanort," he said, trying it out. "I… I guess that will be fine. But only until I get my real name back, right?"
Ansem smiled wryly.
"Of, course, of course. Now, Xehanort, I'm going to go talk to Krista. While I do that, I want you to get some sleep. I don't think you're fully healed yet. Alright?"
The young man, now Xehanort, nodded.
He settled back under the covers, rolling his new name around in his head. Xehanort. Xehanort. It was a strange name. A bit long, but he supposed it would do. After all, it was only temporary. He yawned, and closed his eyes…
Ansem waited until Xehanort had fallen asleep before leaving the room. He took on last look back at the young man, his face sad, before passing back through the curtain to talk to Krista.
Well, that's the second chapter. Chapter three will be up Thursday if that error doesn't occur again.
By the way, I'd like to thank everyone who read this story and/or reviewed. I was so happy to get such nice reviews! I hope you enjoyed chapter two! Let me know what you think!
