The Magicians' Realm Chapter 121: The Orchard, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 121, everybody! I really wanted to make sure to get an update out for this, the fic's…ten-year anniversary. I used to be better at updating what happened? *sob*

*ahem* Moving on…things happened, and now's probably a good time to mention that we're going to start finding out how half the cast ended up dead.

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Skul's lost the plot of this story for sure (his source material, not so much). Hopefully something works!

References:

Original characters, + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

Waking up was a process, unfortunately, and not a fun one at that.

Yami vaguely recognized that he had been put in a magical sleep—his parents had done it to him once or twice, mostly during a bad illness when he needed the rest (although there was that one time his dad had done it just to knock him out when he insisted on staying awake all night). The impression he got from such a sleep was to not trust the recollections immediately before or after, since at least once he had thought his mother put him into that sort of sleep. Definitely recalled her telling him that it'd be like Sleeping Beauty's enchantment where true love would wake him back up, laughing when he protested and then telling him that motherly love counted.

Granted, he couldn't shake the impression that he had been sick again, considering the way his thoughts were wandering and the room was spinning. Something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what…push himself up finally, eyes screwed shut against the wave of nausea. At least his stomach wasn't screeching at him anymore—

But it did flop around uncomfortably as the implications of that hit him. Quickly check his pulse, first in his wrist, then in his neck—still there, still strong. Gust a sigh of relief—

The next potential implication hit him as his higher processing started functioning again.

Think—yes a healing sleep would help, but it wouldn't halt hunger or thirst, not unless—

Ice—someone (and he had a good guess as to who) had forced magic into him while he was asleep.

Okay no don't panic just yet—yes you were aware that the alternative to not eating magic was death and that dying here would see you trapped here with these dead denizens…of course this had occurred to Skellington, who had apparently run out of patience with the affable, slightly hurt air at them ignoring the food and decided to force his hand. Now Yami had foreign magic and—

And there was another reason for the sleeping spell, he realized—giving foreign magic a chance to settle into new bodies, including those who had never experienced magic before. He didn't doubt that the others had been similarly treated, didn't need that fresh twist of guilt.

Consider his magic, try to force some out—still felt as substantial as his breath steaming on a cold day. At least it was only enough to keep him from dying—he didn't much care for the thought of if it had been more.

Granted this was also a stopgap measure, he realized—swing his legs off the bed, scoot off—felt a little off-balance but quickly recovered. Needed to get out of here and—

And then what? They were still trapped in an alternate dimension, no one knew they were here—deep, shuddering breath—no. No there had to still be a way out. He just had to find it.

He was almost to the door, fingers on the doorknob with a vague plan to find the others when a voice in the hall stopped him.

"Hullo, Skulduggery."

Dangit he should have guessed there'd been a guard—not that he was certain that that cat-woman, Mitzi, would actually do much, but he was willing to bet she had claws and was willing to use them. As for who she was talking to—

"Hello, Mitzi," the skeleton detective said. Yami hesitated—opted to press his ear against the door, hoping they said something useful.

"I feel like I might regret asking this, considering how you're holding yourself, but did consulting work go well?"

"I feel like I was put on the wrong thing to consult for," Skulduggery said waspishly.

"Sorry, but seeing as you're the only one here who knows anything about that sort of thing—"

"I've already heard that song and dance. Would you like me to tell you the one I just heard, hmm?"

"You must have run into Yami on the way here," she said, causing the eavesdropping one to start momentarily before recalling he wasn't the only one around currently.

"I don't suppose he mentioned what he did to the children, did he?"

"I'm aware. I was here when it happened."

"And you didn't stop him?"

"Honey, I'm interested in knowing how I was supposed to do that," she snapped. "Matter of fact, I'd be intrigued to know how you would have, if you were here instead. The kids were aware of the risks and made their choice. And yes, I am aware of what your argument is going to be—you were tied up with Jake, you didn't see the way those kids keep looking at us. There was never going to be a way to explain it to them."

"I'm sure I could have done a job of it."

"Of that I have no doubt—one of them fainted clean away at the sight of you, honey."

"It would have still been an effort."

"Oh, and I just sat here twiddling my thumbs, is that it?"

"Okay so Yami told me to come over here and—what are you two doing?" Kineil demanded, her sudden introduction into the conversation making Yami flinch away from the door.

"Detective Pleasant thinks he could have done a better job," Mitzi said icily.

"I would have rather anyone else have the job," Kineil said waspishly. "But moving on—drag the kids to the square, it's time."

"You finished it?"

"Yeah, it's done—and I, for one, am more than happy to finally be getting rid of these kids."

Okay that sound meant he needed to get out of here—scramble around the bed, grab Horus—pause at the way he felt—

The door opened and that dapper skeleton from before stepped in.

"Ah, good, you're up," he said, glancing pointedly at the door like he suspected Yami had been listening at it. "Come along—eventful day planned and all that."

"How eventful?" Yami demanded, mind scrambling to all the worst-case scenarios and knocking everything over in its franticness.

"Let's just say it'll make your millennium."

*\*/*

So this was going badly.

The rain had ceased enough to leave patchy clouds overhead, lost to view as they rocketed through the woods, hoping that the news had been wrong, that Yami had been lied to and everyone was all right.

Considering they were now in the middle of a hot pursuit, Kineil doubted this very much.

"We need a new plan!" she hollered at Hephaestus and Vulcan.

"I'm open to suggestions!" Vulcan shot back.

"Oh hey, I got one," Hephaestus said—stood up in his seat long enough to shoot at the guys shooting at them as they rocketed past.

"That's your plan!?"

"Did you have any bright ideas!?"

"Great—how about us getting out of dodge?"

"West—straight west—"

"Wait no!" Kineil barked, realizing what road that would be. "No we're not going west I die on that road!" And to a G-Man—and what were these roads crawling with now?

"We can't stay in the woods or we die for sure, and I do not bank on them having not driven the Gypsians away. We've got to try it—otherwise we have bigger problems."

Fair enough—Kineil had no idea what these goons were after, but the Administration putting out a hit list on them wasn't surprising—vocal, friends of Skellington—

But like Skulduggery asked, why? Why do this to them? What dastardly plans did they have that Skellington's acquaintances were considered loose ends that needed terminating? What—

Vulcan stood on the brakes and yanked sideways, just barely dodging a barricade blocking their way to the river—forcing them out and through a row of trees, onto the road so hard an axel failed—

More G-Men were closing in.

Hephaestus swore as he reloaded his gun. "Kineil—run—go find somebody and tell them—"

"What? No," Kineil snapped, diving for where she knew a handgun was. "I'm not running!"

Vulcan stopped her. "Yes, you are," he said, dead serious. "We'll keep them off your tail and give you a head start—you're the fastest of the three of us. I don't care if you have to float yourself down the Thesdell until you hit the Chaos Coasts, just get out of here and get something resembling a calvary."

Stare at them both, precious seconds slipping away—it suddenly became very clear to her that this would be the last time she'd see either of them alive. "I can't."

"Sure you can," Hephaestus said, grinning grimly. "You're not dying today, remember?"

Huff, shake their hands. "When I come back I'm spitting on your graves."

"We'll miss you too," Vulcan said, priming his gun. "Get ready."

His roared NOW was barely heard over the sound of thunder—Hephaestus and Vulcan didn't use magic often, mostly only for whatever tinkering they were doing for the day, mostly taught to them by Yami. As it were, lightning shooting up one way and fire shooting down the other was enough to startle the G-Men into ducking and enabled the duo to start picking them off—and provided an excellent distraction.

Kineil ran for all she was worth, hating that she was doing so but repeating the mantra over and over in her head I'm not running away I'm getting help—flinch at the sound of bullets behind her, at the roaring and the screaming—suck in a strained breath—she was never out of shape, but fear had robbed her of any stamina—

She tasted apples.

It registered like ice water being dumped on her—she was running through an orchard.

Worse—she was running through the orchard.

You're in an orchard and you get shot in the back.

Which was when thunder rolled and fire ripped through her, scraping her spine on its way out.

It felt like the world slowed down then—the force of the shotgun blast pitched her forward, and she was able to admire every glistening red dot and splatter as it fanned out from her stomach. But at the same time, it was much too fast, and her head was jerking back and she was hitting the ground before she could process anything—for one delirious moment, she thought she had tripped.

But no—the burning was starting to spread, leaving her cold, but she couldn't die here, not now—tried to crawl, tried to get away…grab great fistfuls of grass, haul herself forward, trying to ignore how she was leaving her lifeblood smeared behind her on the grass….Inanely, the thought that crossed her mind was that she was ruining her favorite suit.

And then someone—she had been so focused or so pained that she didn't hear them—came around in front of her so she'd have to look up, shotgun at low ready so she would know that it was this one that did it…look up finally.

The man was tall—not like Yami or Maxwell, but in Hephaestus and Vulcan's range. Handsome, dark haired, good jawline, nice hat. And a Capitol star on his chest. She had been shot by a stinking G-Man.

"Kineil Wicks," he said. "You are under arrest for aiding and abetting a wanted felon. Anything you'd like to say on the matter?"

There was plenty she'd like to say, but her body wasn't cooperating—she tried to inhale, to suck in a breath so she could speak, but the action dragged parts of her body that weren't supposed to be touching grass along the blades and sent a cacophony of pain through her rapidly cooling body, lashes along her nerves that made her breath hitch. Words were failing her as much as her body was.

But she forced herself to maintain eye contact, to glare at him with all her might—she wasn't going out like a prey animal. Her eyes weren't inherited or the result of some spell, they were the result of meeting a predator's eyes like an equal.

That was how she wanted to go out—not scared and panicking, but proud and furious.

But another thought sneaked into her head, a fleeting image of Yami and knowing that that was who this idiot meant—

And knowing in those last moments how he would react to this, and knowing she was unable to do a thing to help him.