Fan Fiction ❯ Wings ❯ Discovery ( Chapter 7 )

Standard disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places featured in this fic. I have, however, finally managed to pwn Spyro 2.

Chapter 7

 

Riku returned to his room. His pulse pounded in his ears as he sat down on the bed and stepped out of his wet shorts. His thoughts raced with his heart-beat as dream and reality intertwined. The feather in his desk drawer was real. The damp fabric was real. His reactions - were real?

He flopped backward onto the bed. As if his life wasn't complicated enough. He wasn't sure which was worse: the reminders that the others gave him about his past, or the fact that the one person who seemed to understand was even more reclusive than he was. Where did Sephiroth disappear to every evening? Riku's eyes scanned the ceiling.

Up.

There was only one problem with that. Riku had been in this castle for months before Ansem had been defeated and knew the floor plan the way he knew the island. He'd been back only three days, and had wandered most of this floor, and there were no stairs.

Unless.

Riku shook his head. Even assuming the Doorway was still open, putting a stairway in the Behemoth's lair probably wouldn't lead to anywhere that Sephiroth could reach by flying. He wasn't entirely sure what space that lair was actually in, to be honest. He closed his eyes and mentally walked through every corridor that he remembered. He tried to picture Sephiroth walking them, revealing his secret path, but the winged swordsman seemed completely out of place in every passage.

Suddenly, he thought he saw a flash of moonlight hair disappearing into the Chapel. His saw the walls move faster, as if he was running to catch up with Sephiroth. He pushed through the doorway.

Something was wrong. The person walking in front of him had no wing. Panic rose in Riku's throat, and he bolted out of the room, racing away from a being he had last seen horribly mutated and then destroyed. His feet took no conscious direction, heading only towards the concept of “safe”.

He found himself on the balcony outside his room. A dark movement caught his attention. At his feet was a long, black feather.

* * * * * * *

Riku's eyelids fluttered as he shifted out of the nightmare. A clutching hand tangled in smooth cotton, and the caress of fabric across skin soothed away the last of the tension. The haunting past faded slowly and incompletely, but the retreat was enough. A breath of wind stirred silver bangs, and whispered calm into the young man's dreams.

* * * * * * *

The next morning dawned with the heavy tension that promises a storm. Riku dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He'd slept soundly, but not well. A shiver rippled up his spine, as the memory of Ansem in the Chapel surfaced like a pale, bottom-dwelling monstrosity. He unravelled his braid, brushed the strands into a semblance of order, and dressed, mostly on auto-pilot.

On his way through the bedroom, Riku collected the book that he'd borrowed. The information he needed wasn't going to be there, and he wasn't going to have time to read more of it today. Today, he was going to get his answers.

Riku stopped by the library first, re-shelving the book while the magical lighting was still dark. A quick trip to the kitchen followed. For once, he actually stayed in the room as he ate, listening for approaching footsteps as he considered what he remembered of the upper level. His stomach turned at the thought of entering the Chapel again, but if he was going to find where Sephiroth disappeared to, he was going to have to check everywhere. He steeled himself and walked out to the hallway.

“Might as well get this over with,” he muttered. Ocean-blue eyes narrowed as long strides took him closer to that hated room. The Keyblade shimmered, unsummoned, into his hand. The weapon's glow sent strange shadows skittering across the walls, and Riku suppressed a shudder at the memories of endless waves of Heartless.

The magical lights were just starting to glow as he reached the door to the Chapel. Adrenaline coursed through his system as he stepped through the tall archway. He peered into the dark room, every nerve alert for the slightest hint of trouble.

Dust lay thickly on every surface. Riku held the Keyblade over his head, using the light from the weapon to see further into the room. From the look of things, no one had been in here for a long time. A dim light off to the side caught his attention. Dust had even claimed the castle's lighting system. The stairs leading to the Behemoth's lair ended at a pile of rubble, carefully stacked against the place where the Doorway had been.

Riku dismissed the Keyblade, and ran his fingers along his temple. He felt a little foolish for even considering that Ansem would actually be there. The visit had told him one thing, though. The undisturbed dust was enough to prove that there was no stairway hiding within. Even now, the faint air currents from opening the door were leaving tracework on the neglected floor.

Riku closed the door and leaned his forehead against it, considering the other possibilities. The lights in the hallway grew steadily brighter as the castle responded to the normal schedule of its inhabitants. People would be going about their routines, and that meant more chances that someone would show up to ask him what he was doing.

Turning his back on the abandoned Chapel, Riku struck out into the depths of the castle. Every hallway led him past rooms being reclaimed from Ansem's treachery, either by giving them new purpose or by leaving them to the obscurity of dust. None of them showed any sings of stairways.

Approaching footsteps caused him to stop in his tracks. His mind raced, considering and discarding explanations for his foray. He was far from the more communal areas of the castle, and the vague tolerance that most of the residents showed him was hardly an incentive to go visiting.

The figure that emerged from the shadows wouldn't have accepted any of Riku's explanations anyways. The soft song of steel rang out before words could be exchanged. Riku backed away, hands spread.

“I warned you.” The blonde warrior advanced, his blade slashing the distance between them.

Riku leapt backwards. “What's ... your ... problem?” he shouted while evading the wildly swinging sword. He felt a line of pain sear across his ribs as he dodged one sweep a hair's breadth too late. Cool metal materialized in his hand and blocked a new flurry of blows.

Riku was in bad shape. For the first time since being locked behind the World Door, he was fighting another human being, and this time he didn't want the outcome to be fatal - for either party. The Keyblade danced a defensive pattern as if guided by his mind instead of his arm. Still, it was his arm that took each shock of contact.

Riku continued to edge backwards, gaining whatever ground he could towards safety. A stone urn provided an unexpected respite as the other man's sword slammed into it with force that would have crushed bone. Riku took advantage of the interruption to scramble back several yards.

“Look, man, I don't -“ Riku's words trailed off as he met his opponent's gaze. No reason showed in those bottomless eyes. Words were useless here. Even if he defeated the other man, there was no way to win the fight. He would either die or prove himself to be as brutal as Ansem.

Riku ran. The Keyblade vanished in a cascade of golden sparks, freeing Riku from its weight. His agility, earned through years of exploring the island and honed in the near-endless combat of his imprisonment, took the blonde by surprise. The pursuing footsteps were close, but every corner cost the encumbered swordsman another few seconds.

By the time Riku had enough of a lead to think about where he was trying to go, he was nearing his room. Still working on instinct, he darted into the room, closing the door behind him and bracing the chair under the door latch. With more time on his side, he sprinted for the room's only other exit.

Outside, the sky was rapidly darkening under the approaching storm. Riku glanced over the nearest balustrade. The wind was still light enough for him to make the leap safely, but it was also the most obvious means of escape. He turned towards the staircase and stopped.

Up.

Riku turned to face the castle's ornately designed wall. It wouldn't be easy, but it would certainly be unexpected. Mindful of the increasingly erratic gusts, he climbed onto the stairway's railing and leapt towards a series of promising outcroppings. The stone blocks were weather-worn but stable under his fingers. The faint sound of an impact reached him, and he knew that his pursuer had reached the door. Brushing windblown hair from his eyes, Riku started to climb.

There was a loud crash from below as the door was shattered by the massive blade. It was echoed by a peal of thunder. Riku strained upwards, his shoulders aching with the effort. The wind was picking up, inviting him to abandon his fragile contact with stone. Riku narrowed his focus to the next handhold - and the next - and the next.

A shout from below told Riku that his ruse had failed. He didn't dare look to see if the blonde was continuing the pursuit. The first spatters of rain struck the castle, adding a new hazard to the climb. Riku stretched for a new grip and let out a cry as his fingers slipped. Flailing desperately, he managed to catch hold of a narrow ledge.

Seconds stretched as gravity became Riku's only opponent. Slowly, he shifted his weight enough to reposition his tenuous grasp. He let out a breath that he didn't remember holding, and pulled himself another few inches towards the top of the wall. The wind was stronger now, and each new handhold was gained more by determination than by skill.

A flash of lightning illuminated the rain-washed stone. Riku risked a glance down, catching a glimpse of the blade waiting beneath him. Far beneath him. Down was not an option. He reached for a new ledge, only to feel a slick skin of water under his fingers. He clutched at his one secure hold, but gravity and fatigue were eroding his balance. The storm curled around him, loosening his grip.

As the elements tugged at him, Riku struggled to regain his hold. Just as the earth's call coaxed him from the wall, a black-gloved hand clasped his wrist, denying the hostile eyes below him.

Author's Notes: I'm expecting to wrap this up in the next chapter. It's been a wild ride for my first fic. Not sure what I'm going to write next, but I'm sure I can find a long-haired bishie to (cough) research (cough) somewhere....