kiiblade

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

"GET OFF, GET OFF, GET OFF!" Ghent continued to panic as he fought against the creature half his size. He was amazed -- and horrified -- by its reliance, its strength frighteningly apparent through its hold alone.
The forgen shrieked in fury, blood and saliva spewing from its mouth. It climbed higher up Ghent's back, broken fingernails searching for his eyes.
"QUIT IT!" Glass crunched underneath Ghent's shoes as he collided with the opposite wall, earning another howl from the forgen. The lack of momentum resulted in a hit with less strength than before, and so it continued to maul him. 
The sound of metal piercing flesh rang through Ghent's skull. He wondered if he had taken the hit himself, but the thrashing stopped, and the forgen went limp.
A familiar hand closed around his arm. Ghent's eyes -- both thankfully still intact -- welled with gratitude. He stammered his thanks as he followed after Elayra, the movement enough for gravity to claim the corpse. The forgen slid away from his shoulders, its body hitting the ground with a sickening plop. 
"H-hey! Up ahead!" In an attempt to be helpful, Ghent alerted Elayra of the obvious yet again. He switched directions when she did, giving her free reign of navigation.
Ghent noted the path ahead was more compact, something that caused him to wonder if this was good for their group, or bad. There were no places of exit that he could see, so he decided that it was good.
It wasn't.
A dead end. Spots danced in front of Ghent's eyes as the remaining blood drained from his face. He felt sick, like he might vomit again, but his stomach had already been emptied.
"You have a plan, right?" Ghent's voice shook as he turned. Out of instinct, he sought out the only adult in the group. "Right?!"
Before either teen could challenge the Knight about his order, Elayra was plucked from the ground. Ghent's befuddled shout turned into a grunt as he too was flung over the Knight's shoulder, opposite the princess. It may have been a funny sight, if not for the large wall and the freakshow behind them.
Ghent's bloody fingers closed around the fabric of Drust's shirt as he took in their current obstacle, his brain putting two and two together.
"No way. Are you seriously gonna parkour us out of here?!" Ghent tried to get a look at Drust's expression for confirmation, but it was impossible to look back enough to see his face.
Ghent's mouth fell open in a silent scream as their savior became airborne, twisting and turning to remove them from harm's way. The sensation was oddly reminiscent of the thrill rides at the fair, terror and nausea included.
Then, it was over. Ghent barely regained his footing after being released, his knees weaker than they had been previously. He searched the rooftops after the gesture north, his anxiety palpable as he took in Drust's newly drawn weapon.
"Shouldn't we stick together?" Ghent glanced at Elayra. Drust may have been dangerous, but that danger was the only thing that kept them alive. "Isn't there a focus word for this? Can't I, I dunno, blast them with a fireball or something?!"
The Curse-ridden continued to shriek and squabble underneath them, each desperate for a piece of their prey.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent might have bragged about his reflexes, but he didn't have time to bask in Elayra's praise. The entrance was quickly flooding with Forsaken.
"That was a battle cry! Not a scream!" Pride taking yet another hit, Ghent spun away from the crowd and started to run. He kept up with Elayra and began to surpass her, the ears of his hood flying behind him.
The order was simple, but Ghent still managed to overcomplicate its meaning. Was Drust warning them against going right, or did he want them to turn right? Ghent's indecision only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for Elayra to catch up with him.
"TURN RIGHT!" After settling the internal debate himself, Ghent relayed the order to Elayra. Drust's voice was loud, but so were the shouts, snarls, and gibberish of their pursuers. He didn't want to risk her missing the memo.
As the teenagers fled the scene, a heavyset Forsaken pushed its way through the pack, slower than the rest due to his size. His neck was crooked, and his vein-riddled arms were covered with dirt and scratches. A much smaller figure clung to his back, its single eye darting from Ghent, to Drust, to Elayra. It shrieked angrily as Elayra's boot met the face of the nearest Forsaken and howled as Drust made quick work of the other.
The one-eyed forgen continued to throw a fit, its tantrum riling up the others. It pointed forward and smacked its knobby knees against the neck of the Forsaken, as if the larger of the two was its own personal steed. 
The Forsaken had enough. He reached up and grabbed the chittering forgen by the scruff of its filthy coat. Snarling, he flung the smaller creature toward the center of the alley like it was nothing more than a bowling ball.
The forgen sailed through the air, and rolled upon landing. It used the momentum of the throw to spring forward, breathing hard and babbling incessantly as it sped past Drust.
The commotion reached Ghent's ears. He looked over his shoulder midrun, mortified by the sight of the forgen scrambling after them on all fours, mannerisms more beast than human.
"Uh, Elayra?!" Ghent started to warn her of their pursuer, but his failure to keep his eyes on the road resulted in him tripping over some of the rubble strewn throughout the alleyway. He was running too fast to correct his footing, and so he fell with an unceremonious crash.
"L...iii...rah!" The forgen parroted Elayra's name as it caught up with its prey. It leapt onto Ghent's back as he started to stand, biting and scratching at any flesh it could.
Ghent shouted. He reached back to grab the forgen with his free hand, and was savagely bitten in the process. 
Swearing loudly, Ghent spun around. He slammed his back against the nearest wall in the hope of knocking the forgen off, but the little beast held on tight.
A crash sounded overhead. Shards of broken glass rained down as a second forgen -- this one with part of its nose missing -- attempted to tackle Elayra from above.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent didn't need to be told twice. As soon as he was let go, he moved closer to Elayra, his breaths coming in short, quick pants. He couldn't see the speaker, but the mere sound of its awful, raspy voice embodied the horrors they had witnessed so far.
Where is it?! Ghent's head was on a swivel. He unintentionally bumped shoulders with Elayra as he spun around, searching the ground with an unhinged amount of desperation. His staff was gone.
“Elayra! I need a weapon!” Ghent whispered to the blonde, probably too loudly. He was in a state of panic. His staff had quickly become his security blanket, and now it was gone. He needed something tangible to defend himself with.
Then, he saw it. The staff was only a few feet from them, half submerged in a reddish-brown puddle. It must have been dropped during the scuffle between Drust and Elayra.
Ghent didn't wait to be told no. Using Drust as his cover, he darted forward in a half-crouch. When close enough, he snatched up his staff, cringing as the slick, unknown substance transferred to his fingers. Wiping off his hand against the side of his pant leg, he scrambled back to the others, prize in hand.
Following Elayra's lead, Ghent positioned himself so that the wall was to his back. He was just in time to witness the hissing figure emerge from the shadows, a sight that caused him to openly gasp.
A newer, bigger wave of panic swept over Ghent. He moved back automatically, trying to create distance between himself and what he assumed was a woman. Her movements were jagged and unnatural, like a puppet being controlled by a marionettist.
To make matters worse, the woman wasn't alone. A smaller, bonier figure joined her, equally as gruesome in appearance, if not more so. A child.
Ghent's throat tightened. He stared at the pair beneath the shadow of his hood. There were many horrible things for his brain to process, the child's maw being one of them. The child boasted an unsightly combination of rocks, bones, and rotten teeth in its mouth, perfect for tearing apart human flesh.
Ghent stole a glance at Elayra. He picked up on the fact that she and Drust were standing similarly, so he tried to mirror them. His knees threatened to buckle as he broadened his stance, his muscles tense and achy.
Suddenly, silence. But not in a good way. In the calm-before-the-storm kind of way.
Ghent had to remind himself to breathe. He had a few focus words in his arsenal, but Drust was too close. He couldn't risk taking down the one person who could protect them.
Dizzy with anticipation, Ghent's eyes snapped to the woman as she began speaking again. The noises in her throat sounded like they should have been words, but weren't. It was impossible to translate -- the Orcs in The Lord of the Rings spoke with more eloquence.
As if that wasn't bad enough, the woman's offspring joined in, and then it made the first move. It catapulted itself forward, using the wall as momentum for its attack.
Ghent screamed a scream of genuine terror. His body moved before his brain could. He swung his staff horizontally, using the magical weapon as nothing more than a baseball bat.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

”Are you INSANE?!” Ghent spun to face Elayra, angered and dismayed by her resistance. He didn't have time to argue with her, yet here they were, butting heads for the umpteenth time. “You can’t stay here, especially not with…” he recoiled, gasping. Like something out of a horror movie, Drust appeared behind Elayra.
An annoyingly familiar yank on his hood caused Ghent to topple backward. He landed opposite Elayra, groaning. They had one chance to escape, and that chance had been ripped away the second the Knight regained his footing.
Muzzled once more, a new wave of terror crashed over Ghent. Due to Drust's hand, he couldn't summon a focus word if he wanted to. He found himself tensing in anticipation, his body still sore from being slammed against the wall.
Contrary to what was expected, Drust didn’t lash out physically...but not because of self-restraint.
Trembling like a victim of frostbite, Ghent followed Drust's gaze. A series of garbled voices flooded the alleyway, the source yet to be seen. It was difficult to determine how many voices there were, or where they were coming from, but there was definitely more than one speaker, which meant there was more than one set of eyes to avoid.
Keep your eyes hidden. Drust's warning from before sounded in Ghent's mind. Diverting his attention downward, he tugged on his hood to help conceal his eyes, hoping against hope that they would somehow go undetected.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Before he could so much as spit the taste from his mouth, Ghent felt a hand close around his hood. In his dazed state, he foolishly believed that Drust was on a mission to remove him from the nightmare that was the town.
Any such hope was soon snuffed out.
Ghent gasped as his body connected with the alley wall. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced. He swallowed hard, his salvia tasting foul to him. The darkness in Drust’s eyes spoke volumes. The Knight was angry enough to murder him, Ghent was sure of it.
A second slam. This time, with enough force for Ghent to shout out, the sound muffled due to Drust’s palm. Had Ghent been given a chance, this was where he would have blurted out a frantic, nonsensical apology, if only to save his own skin.
Groveling wasn’t necessary, however. Elayra saw to that.
Cheeks wet with tears, Ghent’s eyes flickered from Drust to Elayra. He couldn’t decide if her interference was courageous or foolish, but he was thankful for it. He took in a gulp of foul-tasting air as soon as he was released, his legs buckling beneath him.
I can’t do this. Ghent dropped to his knees. He was better level with the corpse near the center of the alleyway, scattered remains of someone who had lived and breathed just as he did. He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the hellish world around him.
Do something, you idiot! Ghent’s inner voice screamed at him. Elayra was going toe-to-toe with Drust, but she couldn’t hold him off forever. If the Knight decided to, he could add both of their corpses to the nearby pile.
Ghent inhaled and exhaled in small, ragged pants. His head snapped up when he heard Elayra fall, something Drust was quick to take advantage of. The Knight pressed his boot against her back, pinning her to the ground as he had with Ghent and the wall.
Fear merged with rage. Still trembling, Ghent rose, a dangerous look in his eye. Elayra had said that magic could kill the Knight.
Before further action could be taken, the tables were reversed. Ghent flinched in surprise as Drust pitched backward, thrown off balance thanks to Elayra’s quick thinking.
It was the chance Ghent needed. The chance they needed.
Without hesitating, Ghent bolted past Drust to reach Elayra’s side. “We’re leaving,” he hissed, his eyes wild with desperation. He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to follow him. “NOW.”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent stiffened as Elayra grabbed his arm, the abruptness sending a jolt of alarm through his body. In a world as precarious as Wonderland, the action could have meant nothing, or everything.
”What is it?” Ghent whispered back, his eyes searching hers for an explanation. His brain scrambled for any guesses, but he was too rattled. He couldn’t seem to come up with one coherent thought.
The message soon became clear, summed up with a single word. Death. Ghent knew that seeing death was inevitable in a world plagued with the Curse, but he hadn’t expected to see it so soon. He hadn’t even run out of snacks yet.
”Uh, right…appreciate the heads up.” Ghent shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t bother pretending he had experience like Elayra did; his unease would be obvious if it wasn’t already. He started to reach for the hem of his hood, the whistle nearly causing him to jump out of his skin.
Gulping, Ghent hurried after the Knight, his mind racing with his feet. He had only attended one funeral in his life – his uncle’s - and the casket had been closed. He tried to reflect on a handful of character deaths he had seen in the movies, a pathetic attempt to prepare himself for the upcoming exposure to a corpse. Or corpses.
But I have seen death. Ghosts are dead, aren’t they? Ghent took as small of a breath as he could. The air was putrid, more rancid than the dumpsters back in the alleyway with Miles. The smell, coupled with his fear, made his stomach knot. He missed the Safe Zone.
Sooner than Ghent liked, they came to a stop. He eyed the glass-laden alleyway with the reluctance of a cat facing water. He didn’t want to proceed single file. He didn’t want to proceed at all.
As Elayra flanked them from the back, Ghent shuffled toward the middle. For once, he had no complaints. Being in the center of a Drust-and-Elayra sandwich was the probably safest place to be.
Remembering his hood at the last minute, Ghent tugged it up and over the top of his head. As he pulled, he was caught off guard by the heft of the fabric. Simultaneously, he felt something attached to the top of the material flop forward.
Cursing mentally, Ghent reached up. He groped around for the culprit, his fingers closing around something that felt like a droopy rabbit’s ear. A mental image of Henry’s favorite Winnie-the-Pooh onesie – complete with bear ears -- flashed through his mind. Sure enough, a matching ear was on the opposite side, but this one was shorter. The material was jagged, as if it had been gnawed off by a hungry hound rather than cut.
Ghent bristled, agitated by the thought of looking ridiculous so soon after the boxers incident. He attempted to catch his own reflection in the broken shards of glass, but he saw nothing to reveal the curiosity that was his hood.
The bones were enough for Ghent to forget his petty troubles. He couldn’t help but stare as they passed, the sight causing his breath to quicken, resulting in an intake of air.
Gagging, Ghent smothered the bottom half of his face with his hand, his breaths filtered through his own sweaty palm. The smell had gotten about ten times worse, and he had a feeling that the view wasn’t much better.
He continued to shadow Drust, his eyes never straying from the Knight's back. He didn’t acknowledge Elayra when she came up alongside him; he was too petrified to look anywhere else.
Something hissed nearby. Fearing a Shadowmire had come for revenge, Ghent turned sharply, staff raised. As he did, he made a horrible, irreversible mistake. He looked.
The first thing Ghent processed was the monstrosity that was the rat. An object he couldn’t identify was sticking out of its mouth, likely a piece of garbage it had scavenged from the pile next to it.
No.
Not garbage.
Like a pair of binoculars coming into focus, the shapeless mass behind the creature sharpened into view. The rat had been feasting on what appeared to be a pile of bodies.
“No, no, no, no way...” Ghent staggered back, the blood draining from his face. The more he looked, the worse it got. Heaps of bodies were scattered as far as the eye could see, limbs of different shapes and sizes jutting out at every which angle. Pools of crimson dotted the road ahead of them, adding color to an otherwise monochrome scene.
Gasping, Ghent automatically sidestepped to give the rat a wide berth. As his foot reconnected with the ground, he felt a rubbery sphere roll underneath his sneaker. Against his better judgment, he looked again, and he could have sworn the sphere was looking back.
Ghent’s staff clattered to the ground. Overcome by the horror of the carnage, he started to scream, but he ended up retching. His hands moved to the front of his thighs as he leaned forward, vomiting onto the bloodied cobblestone.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent smelled the town before he saw it. He cursed underneath his breath, covering his nose with his sleeve. It didn't take long for the foul air to kill his appetite, warding off any previous desire he had to raid his pack for food.
They continued onward, the air quality never improving. Ghent used his sleeve to act as a filter until he realized that he was only delaying the inevitable. He dropped his arm to his side, breathing in as little as he could. 
Eventually, the trio came to a wall, or what remained of one. Ghent crouched because Elayra did. He peered over the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous town. His eyes moved from house to house, each structure more haphazard than the last. The buildings were old and falling apart, some barely standing. A few of the houses reminded him of a kindergarteners craft project, with an assortment of different materials cobbled together to create a bizarre illusion of a home.
"Those definitely aren't to code..." Ghent squinted at the feathers. He overheard a crazed laugh, which caused him to drop back behind the wall as if he'd been shot. Neither Drust nor Elayra seemed to react, which was both comforting yet concerning. Crazed laughter must have been normal in Wonderland.
Ghent sighed. Twenty minutes wasn't very long, and he doubted they could run without drawing unwanted attention. He nodded stiffly, hoping against hope that they would avoid crossing paths with any of the town's inhabitants. "Like I said, I have no desire to mingle with--"
Drust suddenly snapped at them to keep quiet. Ghent sat up straighter and gripped his staff tighter, fearing the source of the laugh had spotted them. His scowl mirrored Elayra's when he realized Drust was only finishing her sentence.
"No mingling, no kids, no eye contact..." Ghent grunted as he pushed himself up, his muscles stiff and sore. He watched as Elayra vaulted herself over the wall with the proficiency of a gymnast, something he intended to mimic. "No problem."
Clutching his staff, Ghent dashed forward and used his free hand to hoist himself up. His first leg went over without a hitch, but he didn't lift his second leg high enough. His knee smacked against the edge awkwardly, causing him to stumble when he landed. He caught himself, flushing when he saw Elayra looking in his direction.
Pride barely intact, Ghent stalked past her, hurrying to catch up with Drust.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent held his breath as he waited for Drust's evaluation. The sight of the Knight's eyes up close sent a sharp, unpleasant shock through his entire being. His throat tightened at the memory of being lifted in the air by him. Drust, he decided, was more terrifying than a shadowmire and terraflame combined.
Drust's chuckle made Ghent's skin crawl. He imagined the Knight might give a similar-sounding laugh if he decided to brandish his sword, finally giving in to the Curse...finally ridding himself of the two teenagers he must have felt entrapped with.
Ghent shivered. He wished his intrusive thoughts and overactive imagination would take a hike. 
"Uh...understood," Ghent coughed lightly, his lungs disagreeing with the lack of oxygen. He bit his own tongue as he dropped his chin, too unnerved to maintain eye contact for longer than he already had. His foolishness meant he would have to wonder about the Rabbit Hole in silence, the workings of Wonderland and its means of travel still very foreign to him.
Finally, Drust stalked off. Ghent exhaled, shouldering his new bag as Elayra approached him.
"Huh?" Ghent turned his head toward the princess. His eyes fell to her hand gripping his wrist, and he flushed slightly, still embarrassed after all that had transpired. He met her eyes again and blinked, waiting for her explanation.
"Like...on purpose? Or..." Ghent trailed off, allowing Elayra to supply an answer herself. He bit the inner pocket of his cheek, his expression unusually contemplative. He wondered about their odds, their chances of traveling through the town undetected. 
"I'll be careful," Ghent answered, strangely agreeable despite his track record. "I know I messed up back there, but don't worry..." he rubbed at his neck, careful not to disturb the bandaging. "I have no desire to stand out, or mingle with the townsfolk around here...not after what I've seen of this heck hole."
After collecting and checking his belongings -- his bag, his father's book, and his staff -- Ghent hurried after Drust and Elayra, scratching at an occasional itch courtesy of his new shirt.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent squinted at her. He considered teasing her, saying that she must have wanted to watch him change, but she turned before he had the chance to dig his own grave. 
After a pause, he returned his attention to his new-old clothes and started to dress.
Selecting the shirt first, Ghent worked his arms through the long sleeves. The fabric was somewhat coarse, thin in some spots, and itchy in others. He found that the neckline was cut in a V shape, which could be pulled closed thanks to two leather cords laced between the fabric. The back of the shirt was plain, save for a hood he hadn't noticed before. The shirt was something he could see Henry wearing at a Renaissance Festival, except that Henry refused to wear anything blue, for some unknown reason. 
"Earth bag..." Ghent snorted lightly at Elayra's name for the backpack. His smirk dissolved at the order. He wasn't attached to the backpack itself, but what it represented. It was the last thing he bought before leaving Earth. 
Ghent sighed, silently chiding himself. A secondhand backpack was the least of his problems. 
Before Ghent could work on his pants, he stiffened, a sharp itch between his shoulder blades demanding his attention. Scratching with one hand, he tugged at the shirt with the other to keep the source of the itch away from his skin, the sensation agitating him. It seemed that even the clothes in Wonderland were against him.
"At least it's warm. And dry," Ghent mumbled to himself. He dropped his hand to his side and scowled. The same couldn't be said for his boxers, but he didn't exactly have anywhere to change out of them. So, they remained.
Quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, Ghent worked both feet through the legs and pulled up the charcoal-colored pants. To his relief, the pants fit around the waist, but they were a little long. Not as long as Drust's pants, though.
Ghent moved over to his backpack and crouched down in front of it. He found that the fabric was less coarse than the shirt, something he was immensely grateful for. He hoped that the length of his shirt would help hide the fact that his underclothes weren't fully dry.
"Giving what more control?" Ghent caught the end of Elayra's statement. He peered over his shoulder at her, brows raised. He couldn't tell if she was talking to him, or to herself, but he didn't have time to question her. Drust was heading their way.
Hurriedly, Ghent emptied the contents of his backpack and shoved everything into the bag as instructed. He gripped the empty backpack as he stood, stiff as a board, like a cadet facing a sergeant. His eyes flickered between the Wonderlanders, a too-familiar feeling of panic settling in. The feeling urged him to say something.
"The..." Ghent blanched. Drust had sheathed his weapon, but he didn't exactly seem calm. His fingers were curled into a fist. "The clothes fit," he stammered, a weak attempt to pacify him -- and the Curse.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

"No," Ghent agreed through grit teeth, "but you are the one who gave me the longest pants in Wonderland..." he kicked at a stray pebble as he walked, frowning all the while. He missed taking his frustration out on the various cans and bottles left around the city. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Slenderman!"
Ghent came to a stop after Elayra did. He eyed the pack, wary of its contents.
"Hey. Those didn't come from a dead person, right?" Ghent wrinkled his nose at his own suggestion. The thought of wearing a dead person's clothes felt like a bad omen, and the last thing he wanted was to attract bad luck. Or, worse luck, as he felt his luck had been nothing but bad since stepping foot into Wonderland.
Before Ghent could inquire -- or complain -- further, the pack in question was tossed at him. He didn't expect this, so the brunt of it hit him in the chest while scrambled to catch the lopsided bundle. 
Bristling, Ghent steadied himself, irked by the entirety of the exchange. He opened the top of the pack wider, bringing his face down to sniff at its contents. The clothes smelled musty, but his tolerance to bad smells had risen after being subjected to Miles' vehicle. Now that the clothing had passed the sniff test, he reached inside, making a mental note to check for traces of blood. 
"Huh?" Ghent lifted his head, Elayra's words almost going unmissed. "What are you..." he stopped. Heat crept over his face. In the chaos, he had forgotten that he was still in his boxers.
"Y'know, on Earth, we value a little thing called privacy," Ghent quickly yanked a pair of trousers out of the bag, his cheeks flushed. He grabbed what he assumed was a shirt next, his misgivings about the clothing now behind him. "So, uh. Turn around, will you?!"