Chapter Seven:

~Garnet~

"Who are you?" A threaten looking man dressed in animal furs said in a calm tone. He was talking to a teenage boy, about sixteen years old, with light brown hair and a bleeding lip. He did not reply to the question, only sat in the chair he was bound to in a defiant silence.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" The man's bellows echoed through the cave, bouncing off its walls. Up in one of the many crevices, a young boy watched with wide eyes. He became rigid when another of the burly men handed the angry man a crooked sword that he brought towards the prisoner, kneeling down.

"Tell me who you are and what your purpose for being here is."

The sinister voice made a shiver travel down the young boy's spine. When it was apparent that the teen wasn't going to offer an answer, the scary man placed the sword above his index finger. The boy watching gulped and heard the man say hushed and with much sadistic pleasure,

"Tell me what I want to know, or I will individually chop off every single finger you have. And if I run out, I will move to your toes."

The teen looked up to face his captor; a few hairs fell from in front of his eyes, fierce determination in them. He opened his mouth in a final response. His voice was even and his dry tone mimicked his captor's.

"Bring it on," was all he said.

The little boy felt panic rise up inside his stomach and, as his instincts took over, shouted out towards the Huns.

"HEY, HUN-NEY BUN! OVER HERE!"

The confused Huns looked over in the direction of the voice when they spotted a small child up in a crevice. They smiled at him, but that smile quickly disappeared when hurtling towards them came a red and yellow stripped stick. One of the Huns caught it in his hand and stared at it confused, bringing it closer texhaust face to examine. Shan Yu recognized it as one of those pestering firecrackers that took him out the last time he tried to take over China. Fearful, he shouted in Hunnish for the man to get rid of the thing. But it was too late. It exploded with a loud BOOM and caused them to fly backwards. Soon, more of them showered down at them, randomly exploding and zipping through the air. Shan Yu was facing the ground with his hands protectively covering his head when a small hand bent over and grasped the handle of his sword. He looked up to see the child, struggling to manage the heavy weapon, now glowing a faint blue.

"The child from the legend..." he whispered, voice in awe and face serious. The little boy ran over to help his friend, using the blade to cut him free. Shan Yu tried to stand up to stop him, but a whizzing firecracker launched him thirty feet in the opposite direction. When the chaos ceased, the two were long gone.

.oOo.

Adrain and Garnet ran through the cave until they saw dawn's light peeking through its entrance. They reached it quickly and rushed over to the solar surfer. While shoving aside branches, a screeching came from above them, making them stop to look up. Down swooped a hawk, a pet of Shan Yu's, that knocked over Adrain and then proceeded to attack Garnet. Its beak peaked violently into Garnet's chest and its talons scratched his face and neck. Garnet fruitlessly thrashed his arms about in an attempt to stop the bird's attacks. Adrain, meanwhile, stood up and snapped off one of those branches. He swung it at the brown blur, hitting it like a baseball into a bush. Injured, it flew away. Adrain reached out his palm for Garnet to grab and pulled him up.

"Thanks," Garnet said to him.

"No, I should thank you. You saved my life... again," Adrain said sincerely. Garnet, proud of himself, smiled. The two boys walked over to the solar surfer and hopped up on it. Adrain revved up its engine, but before they started moving, he turned to face Garnet.

"Hun-ney bun?" Adrain had a quizzical look on his face.

"I've always wanted to say that," Garnet replied. Adrain gave him an approving smile.

"Look who's one of the big kids now," And Garnet smiled back at him.

~Kyra~

Kyra stopped to a halt, facing a dead end. Spinning around, her pursuers were trailing behind and making their way closer and closer. Quickly, she examined her surroundings in search of something to help her. A pitchfork was leaning against the stable wall and, once Kyra had spotted it, grabbed it and stood in her defensive stance. Obviously, she was way outnumbered, but there was no way she was going down without a fight. The shouts grew louder and louder, and she tightened her grip on the wooden handle. She closed her eyes briefly, saying a quick prayer, and then reopen them in time to see the front of the mob come into view.

They were almost upon her when the stable doors broke open, wood splintering everywhere. A magnificent white stallion galloped through the door and veered over in her direction. Kyra sighed in relief when she saw Gwydoin perched up on the saddle. Looking down at her, he reached out a hand. She grabbed it anxiously and he hoisted her up. She sat safely and comfortably behind him as he snapped the reigns, signaling his steed to move forward and escape the now panicking crowd.

They traveled over the draw bridge and far out into the countryside. About five miles out, and when they were sure they hadn't been followed, Gwydoin slowed his horse to a stop and they jumped down off it.

"Looks like I got us out of that mess just in time." Gwydoin said proudly. Kyra rolled her eyes at him.

"Haha, I'm only joking... You helped a little, too," he offered her a smile, but she scowled at him.

"Gee, glad I could be of service," she replied flatly. He continued chuckling. "But thanks for helping me escape, even though I probably would have on my own anyway," Now she began to smile.

"Yeah, you had them right where you wanted them. Eating out of the palm of your hands. Tell me, what were you planning to do with that pitchfork? Do some stable work before they locked you back up in the dungeon?"

Kyra grimaced, "Haha, very funny. Well, if you're done messing around, could you point me to the nearest bus stop?"

"That depends, what's a bus stop?" Gwydoin answered, stroking the horse's head.

"Just tell me how to get out of here," Kyra exasperated.

"Hmmm... I can take you to Randy. He's a very wise dwarf who might know how to get you back in your own world."

"Not without my brothers."

"Well, I'm sure he could help you with that, too."

Kyra hesitated, but after a moment she clasped her hands together and said with enthusiasm, "Okay, let's do this thing!"

~The Horned King~

Creeper slowly hobbled down a grand stone staircase. He was muttering nervously to himself, scared at what the bad news he had would bring.

"Oh Sire," he spoke to no one, "please do not wring my neck for this."

He continued muttering to himself as he approached a tall double door entrance with red light spilling out of the slightly cracked-opened door. He peered in to see his master sitting in his throne, facing away from him so the only thing Creeper could see was his hand, skeletal with long, sharp fingernails. Creeper gulped, and made his way over to face him.

The Horned King spoke with his raspy, echoing voice, "Ah Creeper, it's so nice to be back home after these many months. I trust all has been well?" he asked his faithful minion. Creeper began fidgeting and stuttering, trying to prolong the hurt that was inevitable.

"I've heard news of a new prisoner. One that glows." The Horned King continued. "I've been looking forward to meeting our mysterious new guest."

"Well...uh...yes, Sire...I...uh...wanted to talk to you...uh...about that," Creeper's fear had reached its apex.

"Go on," The Horned King was hanging on to every word his minion sputtered out.

"Well, uh...it seems she escaped...with the help of the prince..."

With that, the Horned King's hand clutched tensely, and the flames in the fireplace grew in size and shot out, mirroring his anger. Creeper hid behind the chair, cowering and trying to avoid being burned.

"Well, then. It seems we'll just have to go after the brat," The Horned King calmly said, the flames now retracting back to their original size and color. "Send the gwythaints to find her. Find her!" he barked the order at the henchman. Creeper ran out of the room, down the corridor, and towards the gwythaints' cages.

In a much lower voice, The Horned King said to himself, "Find her, before the others do."

~Luke~

The crowd cheered and did the wave as a voice announced over a speaker.

"And it's all tied up in the last inning of the game. Two more outs and the Thunderbirds have won the State Championship! The count is two strikes, two balls. Can the Thunderbirds' pitcher: number twelve, Luke Lockwood, get him out?"

Luke was standing on the pitcher mound in the school's black and yellow uniform, planning out his next pitch. As he brought his hand to his glove, he quickly glance at the runner on third, making sure his lead wasn't too far. He returned his gaze to the batter at home plate, an average looking kid with a slender torso and a height of about 5'11. He threw a slider down the middle and his heart skipped a beat when the batter swung his bat. He let out the air he was holding in when the bat missed the ball. The umpire shouted out, "Strike three, you're out!" and Luke smiled in satisfaction.

Only one more batter left, he could handle this. Winning the State Championship was something Luke wanted more than anything else in the world. He loved baseball, not for any other reason than the fact that his father had loved baseball. Back when he was alive, he would take him to practice his swing and when Luke made the team, his dad was extremely proud of him; he would have been even if he didn't make the team. Luke continues to play now as a way to honor his beloved father.

Luke turned to face his next batter (or next victim, as he should say) and, as the voice on the speakers announce the battery's name, Luke froze where he stood, staring down towards home plate. "Ladies and gentlemen, batting for the Delaware Devils, number six hundred and sixty-six, Michael Lockwood. Luke stared, mouth opened and wide-eyed, down at his deceased father.

"Dad?" Luke looked at him in disbelief.

"Hello, Lukey. Long time, no see," his face was cold and expressionless.

"But...you were dead," Luke was confused, remembering the funeral and the lifeless copse in his father's casket.

"No, Luke. I am not dead...but you are."

Just then, Luke's stomach throbbed, a piercing pain that felt like he got stabbed. He doubled over in pain. His right arm, his pitcher arm, began to bleed. He screamed out in pain and fell to his knees. When he opened his eyes, he saw a bullet in the dirt and looked back again at home plate. His father began to glow, similar to the way he does, but the color was all wrong. instead of a faint blue, black and violent purple emitted from him in an orb. Soon his eyes turned red, and his smile grew into a devilish grin of sharp, jagged fangs. The body was no longer that of his father, no longer that of a human's. It transformed into a cloud of condensed black smoke, its tendrils swirling out towards Luke. The red eyes continued to stare at him, paralyzing him with fear. The ground began to shake violently, and then moved towards the demon, causing Luke to move towards it as well. He tried to crawl away, but his wounds crippled him. The smoke began to engulf him until everything around him was replaced with black nothingness.

Luke awoke in cold sweat, panting and hyperventilating.

Myst: Dun Dun Dun!

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Myst: Hey that rhymed! :) But a bit extreme and totally false.