Six Eyes' Woods
a Suikoden I & II fic by Seiji
Note: Although set a few years after Suikoden 2, the action
in this fic takes place somewhere north of the general area of
Suikoden 3.
Warning: Gen fic by a yaoi fan. Proceed with caution.
Disclaimer: "Suikoden" is a trademark
of Konami Co., Ltd. © 1995-2005. These characters do not belong
to Seiji.
I: There is a graveyard in my poor heart
The haunting of Eyes' Woods was the latest gossip at the Hunter's
Leap inn. When they heard that Flik was heading for Eyrin--on the
far side of the forest and ten-days distant--the proprietor and his
wife told him all about it. They couldn't say if a master
blacksmith still lived in Eyrin, but they could tell him more than
he'd ever wished to know about the habits of lonely ghosts.
"It just makes sense," the wife said. "Think about it. Most people
are lucky enough to die where there's other people around, right?"
Her husband nodded, and she continued. "If they end up needing to
haunt something, there's no problem--they've got a house, or even a
village, full of people right there. But those poor ghosts in the
forest, who have they got?"
Each other, Flik wanted to say, but the innkeeper was busy
speculating about how the ghosts were luring travellers to their
deaths, while his wife insisted that the ghosts weren't violent--the
victims were all magically asleep deep in the woods
somewhere.
A few minutes later, when they both finally paused for breath at the
same time, Flik asked about the victims. Their answers were vague,
and he was soon convinced that no one had actually gone
missing.
Flik was still chuckling over their enthusiasm for the unlikely tale
as he went to join Viktor at the tavern next door. The place was
dim-lit and crowded, but he spotted Viktor right away. He was
sitting with several other men--merchants from the look of
them--and seemed more displeased than Flik would have thought
possible given his proximity to an ample supply of beer. Perhaps he
needed a refill.
Flik stopped at the bar and asked the young woman there for two
ales. If her rather unfortunate nose was anything to go by, she was
the innkeeper's daughter and the source of their ghostly gossip. He
dropped a coin on the counter and took the tankards from her, glad
that she was too busy to talk.
One of the men was saying something about ghosts being good for
business when Flik arrived at the table. Viktor was frowning and
staring into his beer, which--Flik was surprised to see--was more
than half full. Flik set their tankards down and clapped him on the
shoulder.
"Don't like the local brew?"
Viktor jerked at his touch, sloshing beer onto the table.
"Lightning? When did you get here?"
"Just now," Flik said. "Move over."
Viktor looked puzzled, but slid over on the bench. Flik sat
down and quirked a brow at him.
"I... uh... didn't see you come in," Viktor mumbled.
"Really? I couldn't tell." Flik smiled and nodded at the other men,
then took a tentative sip of the ale. It tasted fine.
"Your name is Lightning?" the merchant who'd been speaking earlier
asked.
"It's Flik."
"Why did he call you 'Lightning', then?" the first man asked as
another--a big man in a dark red suit--said, "Heh, 'Lightning'
sounds better."
"It's a nickname," Flik explained.
"Were you--" The third man, who looked a few years younger than
Flik, stopped, gulped, and tried again. "Were you struck by
lightning?"
"What?" Flik almost laughed.
"Your hair," the young man said. "Did lightning do that?"
Flik blinked and touched the blaze in his hair. "No. I was...
just born like this."
"Oh," the man whispered, sounding strangely reverent. "I see." He
continued to stare at Flik, and Flik smiled awkwardly back at
him.
Weird kid.
Flik turned to see how Viktor was enjoying the exchange and froze.
Viktor was frowning into his beer again as if he wasn't aware of his
surroundings.
"Viktor." When he didn't get an answer, Flik elbowed him.
"Viktor!"
"Huh?" Viktor looked up. "Oh..."
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Viktor stood up. "Uh, excuse me. I've gotta go... you
know." He gestured vaguely and left.
"Heh," Red Suit said. "And I thought all of us big guys held our
liquor well."
Weird Kid nodded. "That's what they say."
Flik considered going after him, but if Viktor had only left to
relieve himself, he'd feel stupid for worrying. He sighed and
offered Ghost Guy the extra ale.
"So, why are ghosts good for business?"
- / -
An hour later, Viktor still hadn't returned. Flik wished the
merchants a good evening and went to look for him. Their room at
the inn was empty, but Viktor had obviously been there. The Star
Dragon Sword glowered at Flik until he picked it up off the
floor.
"Do you know what's bothering him?" Flik asked as he carefully
leaned the sword against the wall.
"The same problem as always," the sword said.
"What's that?"
"Brain the size of a walnut."
"Ah." Last week, it had been a hazelnut, but the sword wouldn't
appreciate it if Flik pointed out that Viktor's brain was
growing.
He checked at the front desk. The innkeeper hadn't seen Viktor.
His wife suggested a walk towards the river. It was nearly a full
moon, and the Leap was "lovely in moonlight"--all their customers
said so. Flik didn't care to go sight-seeing, but it was a place to
start.
Hunter's Leap was a small town on the eastern bank of the Grey
River. As Viktor had observed when they first encountered it,
"Grey" was a boring name for an equally boring river. The river was
wide and sluggish, except at Hunter's Leap where it narrowed and
its banks became steep. If one was sufficiently daring, it was
said--or drunk, Flik thought--one could jump a horse over the river
at its narrowest point. There was a statue at that point
commemorating the town's founder--a fool who had, as far as Flik
could tell, done nothing more than recklessly endanger his horse on
a regular basis.
The inn was on the edge of town, so it took only a few minutes to
reach the Leap. Flik spared a moment to glance at the river. Even
moonlit, it wasn't particularly lovely. The white stone statue
glowed nicely in the moonlight, though. He shrugged and turned, and
something caught the corner of his eye. He spun back around, and
there was Viktor sitting under the rearing stone horse.
The statue's pedestal was chest-level to Flik. It was not an
insurmountable obstacle, but he didn't want to scramble up there if
he wasn't welcome. He raised his hand and cleared his
throat.
"Give me a lift."
Viktor met his gaze and not-quite smiled. Then, he reached out and
hauled Flik up like he weighed no more than a sack of flour. Once
he was up, Viktor scooted over and patted the horse's left hind leg.
"Pull up a leg, Flik--they make great backrests."
Sometimes the Star Dragon Sword was right; Viktor was an idiot.
Flik settled beside him.
"So..." Flik said.
The night was quiet except for the low rush of the Grey through its
narrows. Flik watched a cloud drift across the face of the moon and
waited. Eventually, Viktor shifted restively.
"I don't like this place."
Flik had figured that much out already.
"There's no such thing as ghosts," Viktor continued. "Not that I
blame these people for not knowing..." Viktor paused and glanced at
him. Flik nodded. "Maybe they can't know. Maybe they don't have
enough proof, but I do. If there were ghosts, North Window would
have been haunted--haunted a hundred times over... But there
weren't... Not even one..."
In the past, Viktor had gone to great lengths to avoid speaking of
North Window's dead with him. Flik was almost absurdly
grateful that Viktor was willing to say this much now. He reached
out and squeezed Viktor's hand.
"We can leave at first light."
"Really?" Viktor asked. He sounded eager.
"Sure."
"We haven't restocked yet."
Flik had made some purchases that afternoon. It wasn't a lot,
but...
"We've got enough," he assured Viktor. They could pick up the bare
essentials in Meenoma.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Great!" Viktor said. "It sounds like a plan." He slung his arm
around Flik's shoulders. "Just one thing, though."
"What's that?"
"Getting up before first light is inhumane. Let's wait until after
breakfast."
Flik laughed and sat with Viktor until he was ready to return to the
inn.
- / -
That night, Viktor talked in his sleep. Flik lay awake listening
for awhile, before he rolled up tightly in his blanket and wrapped
his hand securely around Odessa's hilt.
Viktor was more right than he knew. Places weren't haunted--only
people were.
Memory could be crueler than the loneliest ghost.
Proceed to: chapter 2
Return to: fic index
Notes:
(1) Chapter title is from Adah Isaacs Menken's "Drifts
that Bar My Door" from the poetry collection, Infelicia,
published in 1873.
(2) Special thanks to Sami for her place name suggestions.