Through the rarely-seen technique called 'picking something up'.
The glowing weapon cartwheeled through the misty air and came down right in the center of the mob of vices, blade sticking into the ground. Then, it released a massive explosion that leveled the center of the group, stopping just short of the Burmecians. As the smoke cleared and Frey charged through, he leaned as far over in the saddle as he could and pulled his sword out of the ground.
The interior of Gizamaluke Grotto was cool and damp, which was a lot better than the hot and damp Mist outside, at least as far as Frey was concerned. He swung his leg up and dismounted, Serena right behind him. "That was close," she commented.
He took a deep breath and let it out in a shaky rush that seemed to carry all of his adrenaline with it. He grinned impulsively. "Which part? Me saving the soldiers? Me saving you? Or me getting us here right ahead of that friendly bunch?"
"You almost kicking poor Chalk in the back of the head with that dismount, you showoff," she replied. He clutched at his heart and staggered, but she ignored him and scratched the chocobo behind the ear. "You're one fast runner, you know that?" Chalk squawked.
"Miss Crescent, I think you'd better take a look at this," one of the soldiers said. He stood at the portal to the outside, his face grim. Serena strapped her spear to her back and went to look. Frey's levity disappeared as he and Serena looked out. The vices had returned, and in even greater numbers. They milled about instead of forming ranks, making an estimate difficult, but there had to be dozens, maybe a couple hundred. Here and there, the larger lizardmen bullied their way through the crowds, and the even larger serpions were being tethered securely.
"Siege," he muttered.
"Looks like it," Serena said. Without warning, a dark shape dropped down in front of them. For a split second, Frey thought it was Allen, and his hand was on his sword hilt before he recognized Daren's features.
"They're still coming in from the east," he said without preamble. "It's as if every single vice on this continent is following Allen's orders!"
"Maybe that's exactly what's happening," Serena said, her voice full of loathing.
"So quickly?" Daren replied dubiously.
"He's had two years," Serena pointed out. "And he has Biggs and Wedge helping him."
"Speaking of which, did you-"
"Excuse me." The three of them turned to see a slender young Burmecian woman dressed in a simple robe of dark blue with a sash of red facing them. She bowed. "I apologize for interrupting you," she said, her voice flowing like water. "Minister Golde wishes to speak with you all, and sent me to conduct you to him."
Frey took a look at the young woman's long auburn hair. "You can conduct me anywhere, gorgeous."
She turned, blinking large brown eyes. "I beg your pardon?"
"Just ignore him," Serena said, stepping forward. "Please, lead on."
"Follow me," she said as she turned and strode deeper into the mountain. They followed. Frey stopped briefly to tie Chalk to a nearby column of stone and whisper into his ear. The bird squawked once, and Frey quickly rejoined the others. As they walked, he caught himself admiring the young priestess' form.
Serena's elbow suddenly crashed into Frey's ribs. "She's entirely too young for you," she hissed.
He winked. "Doesn't mean I can't pay my respects to a pretty lady," he said.
"Can we forget Frey's love life for a moment?" Daren said at normal speaking volume. Frey's face turned bright red. "As I was saying, did anyone see Biggs or Wedge out there today?"
"I didn't," Serena promptly said.
Frey thought for a moment. "Can't say I did either," he finally replied.
"So then, what does that mean?"
In the silence that followed, Frey's gaze wandered to his surroundings. To his surprise, they were walking on a floor made up of delicately carved tiles. The walls were filled with images of dragons and other such creatures that had been carved into rock slates and fitted together like a patchwork quilt. He'd expected something simpler...a cavern carved out of living rock, say. He decided he needed to reestimate the importance of this place quickly. Once a few minutes had passed, the passage opened up into a larger chamber. Their guide escorted them to the center of the room and spoke briefly to another young Burmecian, a man this time, waiting there. After a moment, she turned back to the three of them. "Please wait here," she said with a bow. Then, she walked through a door on the opposite side of the room and left them to themselves.
Frey looked at Daren and raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't expect to find a girl like that in a place like this," he said.
Daren rolled his eyes. "Honestly, do you really have to throw yourself at every woman who crosses your path?"
"I wouldn't be able to keep myself sharp if I didn't," Frey countered.
"Try listening to it for five years," Serena commented as she sat on a nearby bench.
Frey refrained from responding to that one and instead began studying the chamber. Unlike the bold and brassy decorations of Lindblum, Gizamaluke Grotto was all soft colors and smooth corners. The benches in the chamber were ornately and lovingly carved to appear singularly fragile, but were strong enough to support any weight. The walls were painted a delicate shade of blue, with soft tones of dark red and purple embroidery surrounding the edges. And bells. Lots and lots of bells. Some were tiny bells made of silver, others were big enough to hide a person underneath. Frey looked up and saw a truly massive bell hanging above them. It was large enough to cover a good three or four people, and the clapper had to be the size of a man's torso. "Someone sure likes bells," he muttered.
Daren heard him. "Take a look at that," he said with a gesture. Frey suddenly noticed that the walls weren't simple, smooth rock, but were covered with writing. He looked closely at the particular piece Daren indicated. Almost unconsciously, he began reading it out loud.
"Ringing in the morning,
Tolling in the evening,
Cheerful at birth,
Mournful at death,
They call
To feast,
To warn,
To praise,
To announce,
To celebrate,
They are the bindings
Of our lives,
These bells."
Serena winced. "That's got to be the worst telling of it I've ever heard."
Frey snorted. "It's not that good anyway," he protested.
"It sounds better in Burmecian," Daren said. "Ayea yan doon, Tarsa yan denn," he recited, his words suddenly flowing like water. Frey listened intently. He actually knew very little Burmecian - mostly curses learned when Serena's temper grew short - but he recognized the pattern in Daren's speech. As the Dragon Knight smoothly recited the poem, Frey found himself gently tapping his foot in time with the words.
"I guess you're right," he said when Daren was finished.
"Gizamaluke himself wrote that," Serena said. "Well, he didn't actually write it, but he told it to a scholar named Lindus who took it down."
"Master Gizamaluke has a thing for bells," Daren said.
Frey swept his hand around the chamber. "Gee, you could've fooled me," he said.
Daren chuckled. "Rumor has it he was born in a bell tower."
"That is pure conjecture and there is nothing substantial to back it up," Serena said coldly.
"Right, right, sorry." Daren raised his hands in apology.
Frey, meanwhile, was examining another portion of text. This was a more straightforward passage, unlike the poetry. Again, he found himself reading it out loud. "Cherish the moment, for happiness is elusive," he read. "Whether by the sands of time or the hammer of war, all that we know shall one day be swept aside. We cling to that which comforts us, and there is no wrongfulness in the gesture. We are creatures of uncertainty, and to hold onto what brings us joy is our most primitive and basest desire. A coin, a stone, a lover's hand, each of us has our secret wishes. The tragedy is that they are kept secret and we deprive ourselves that which we love in the fear that they shall be taken from us. And when, they are taken, we curl into our sorrows and wish that we had done more with what we had."
Daren nodded. "That's Laesha. She was quite an intelligent woman."
"She was a sadomasochist that fell in love with her sister," Serena commented bluntly.
"Now who's the one spreading conjecture?"
"It's not conjecture! It's the truth! Haven't you read her ninth passage?"
"You mean the one written in a different style of prose and that most of the schools rejected as forgery?"
"It's in a different style because Laesha lost her mind after her sister left their home to join the Cleyrans! If you spent half your days cutting yourself to shreds, your writing would probably change, too!"
"Cutting herself?" Frey asked.
"Trust me, you don't want the details," Serena said.
"At least she's better than Horace," Daren muttered.
"No argument here," Serena said.
"A little help for the Burmecian scholar-impaired?" Frey said.
"Horace was a contrary and terse man who spent decades researching dragons," Daren explained. "Rumor goes that he was rejected to be a Dragon Knight, but didn't make the cut. He left Burmecia and became a dragon hunter instead. The Knights found a few corpses and swore to hunt him down, but they couldn't find him. Then one day, he showed up at the gates of the city screaming that the dragon-god Tiamat was going to kill him and all of Burmecia for daring to think themselves worthy of interacting with dragons. Before anyone could lay a finger on him though, a Grand Dragon swooped down and snapped him in half."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. But when they found Horace's belongings, they were astonished by the amount of effort he'd put into his writings. He'd completely vivisected several dragons and took down a massive amount of information on their anatomy and form. He'd studied their behavior patterns and thought processes. And he did it all in a sort of quasi-mystical writing style that left everyone with the impression that he'd had nothing but the greatest imaginable respect for a dragon. The Great Library has the full collection of his work, the Draconomicon."
"I say he got what he deserved," Serena said. "Whatever he was thinking, you can't kill five or six dragons and expect to get away with it."
Daren shrugged. "Maybe he thought the end justified the means."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
Daren rubbed his head. "Don't start that, Serena."
Serena snickered. At Frey's raised eyebrow, she explained. "I was pure hell in my debate class back in school," she said with a smirk.
"She memorized the whole historical text, I swear," Daren said. "She could quote you chapter and verse through it. Nobody had the guts to argue with her because she could justify damn near anything she said."
"Doesn't surprise me," Frey commented.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, eyes twinkling. She raised an arm and pointed at another panel. "There. I think you might like that one."
"What am I, the storyteller?" Frey said. Nonetheless, he turned to the passage she indicated. "A god fears nothing," he read, "for they know they can be harmed by nothing. That way, courage does not lie. A god does not fear death, nor the passing of time, nor the inevitable winds of change. They look down upon us with mixed pity and contempt, for they see us as little more than short-lived insects. I do not see it that way. It is we who should laugh at them, for we find purpose in our lives. We see our unrelenting doom with the clarity of a reflection in a mirror, and we strive to leave our mark upon the world before it claims us. A god could never understand the drive to succeed, to fulfill a dream, and that is why they while the years away, accomplishing nothing. I do not fear the gods. I pity them. I shall pass into the next life unafraid of what lies ahead, because I understand that we seek the meaning of life because we are mortal."
He straightened and closed his eyes, his hand staying on the wall. The silence in the chamber was overwhelming. "You were right," he said softly. "I liked that."
"Minu Haeskremane was only twenty when he died," Serena said. "He was born with a wasting disease that ravaged his body for his entire life. Towards the end, he couldn't even support his own weight." Serena paused. In his mind's eye, he could see her sitting meditatively, her chin in one hand. "But the more his body withered, the more determined he became. Not to live; he knew that wasn't his destiny. He was dedicated to finishing his writings. Supposedly, he stayed up late one night writing furiously. When his mother asked him to get some sleep, he said 'one moment'. He wrote down a few more lines, then smiled, put the stylus down, and whispered, 'finished'. Then he closed his eyes and died."
Frey flattened his hand against the wall. A part of him tried to imagine the scene Serena had described. A deeper part wondered if he could face his own end so calmly. His thoughts were interrupted when the door to the chamber swung open and the young priestess came out. "I'm sorry for your wait," she said gently. "Minister Golde and Master Gizamaluke are ready to see you now. Please come with me." The auburn-haired woman led them down the corridor, which was occasionally lit by candles set in small bowls of rock. Frey let his fingertips brush the smooth stones of the wall as they walked. He felt drop of water on them. There's a lot of humidity down here, he thought. It felt comforting, a wonderfully close feeling of coolness. Frey felt his eyes begin to close, then shook his head before he fell asleep on his feet. As he did so, they came to an arch of smooth stone. Frey glimpsed a larger chamber beyond that, but the young woman suddenly turned and blocked his view.
"Is something wrong?" Serena asked.
The young woman gestured to Frey. "Is this person safe?"
That took Frey by surprise. "Huh?"
The young woman casually dropped her hands to her sides. Frey tensed. "One of my responsibilities is to keep Master Gizamaluke safe from harm," she said. "Will one of you vouch for him?"
"We both will," Daren said, clapping a hand on Frey's shoulder. Serena nodded in support. The young woman's eyes met Frey's and astonished him with the sudden hardness they carried.
"Very well," she said. "But the blame will lie on your shoulders if anything is to happen."
"Very well." She turned and gestured for them to follow. They entered a large cavern. Now this, Frey thought, is more what I had in mind. They stood in a massive chamber shaped like an upside-down bowl. A large pathway of gigantic granite blocks separated the natural wall of the cave from a pool of water so deep, Frey couldn't see the bottom. The only illumination came from a series of flickering blue flames that Frey instantly knew were magical in nature. Up ahead, Frey could see Minister Golde and several other Burmecians conferring.
He took a few quick steps and came abreast of the young woman. "So what's your name?" he asked.
The priestess glanced at him sharply. "Miranda," she finally said.
"Well, Miranda," he said with a grin, "you can feel free to stick close and keep an eye on me if it'll make your feel better."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Just looking out for everyone's best interests," he said. A beat. "Yeah, and I'm flirting with you."
"You should probably know I have a fiancé," she said tonelessly.
"Great!" Frey said enthusiastically. "You have any idea how long it's been since I fought over a beautiful woman?"
Miranda continued glaring at him for a few more moments, then the corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "I've only just met you," she said. "And I can already tell you're hopeless."
A few steps back, Serena muttered "you've got that right," under her breath.
"Aren't you going to step in?" Daren said.
She looked at him. "Why should I?"
"Well, you and him...um...I thought-"
She chuckled. An arm shot out and hooked around Daren's neck, pulling him into her shoulder. "Daren Olivera," she said playfully, "is that embarrassment I hear?"
"Quit it!" he said, not altogether angry. She released him, grinning. "What I meant was-"
"It was the end," she said softly.
"What?"
She explained. "That night was the end of our relationship. Not our friendship," she added at Daren's confused expression. "But the end of our real partnership. We agreed on that. Neither of us believed it was our destiny to stay together forever."
Daren felt compelled to speak. "That's a shame."
Serena shrugged. "Things change," she said, as though it explained everything. "Some for the worse." Her smile returned and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Some for the better.
He swallowed and hoped she didn't notice his trembling.
As they approached, Minister Golde turned and nodded. "Serena, Daren," he said respectfully. "Frey."
"An honor to see you again, Minister," Frey said. "Though it could've been better circumstances."
Golde nodded. "In more ways than I think you realize."
Serena frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you in a few moments. Right now, I'm waiting for our host to arrive. Then, I won't have to explain everything twice."
Miranda bowed. "Shall I tell Master Gizamaluke you are ready?"
"Yes, please," the minister said. Miranda turned to leave. As she did so, Daren noticed that she winked at Frey.
While Serena went to speak with Golde, Daren approached Frey. "How do you do it?" he said.
Frey blinked. "What?"
Daren waved a hand at the door. "Every woman I've seen you speak to!" he said.
"I'm honest, Daren," he said. "That's how. Life's too short to play games."
Troubled, Daren went off to think. Frey stood with arms crossed, patiently examining the various cracks in the rock, the formations of stalactites hanging from the ceiling. The cavern had a natural beauty to its form, one that a man-made abode could never duplicate.
"Where is he?" one of the lesser ministers suddenly said. Frey snapped himself out of his reverie and looked over.
"I'm sure he's on his way," Golde was saying.
"He should be here by now!" the other Burmecian growled.
He is, a voice said inside Frey's mind. It was so potent, he staggered and brought a hand to his temple. Everyone else did the same. Without needing to be told, Frey knew the voice belonged to the legendary Gizamaluke. Well, let's get a look at this guy, he thought to himself.
The water suddenly bubbled and began churning. A bulge appeared in the center of the cavern. Frey's eyes widened as a massive, dragonish head broke the surface of the water. Midnight blue scales gave it a natural camouflage, and large as it was, Frey could see few details of its anatomy. An equally thick neck supported the head, and Frey could he a powerful chest beginning before what looked like a solid sheet of leather cut it off. Gizamaluke rose from the water, eyes closed. He had no arms or legs. His entire torso was wrapped in what looked like leather, and where legs might have been, a single tail with a massive barbed weight swung. Without warning, the leather wrapping began to undo itself, and Frey realized that it was really a set of wings! The master of the Grotto opened large, glowing red eyes and surveyed the group that had come to see him. He floated through the air, sinking up to his midsection back into the water. His wings relaxed and he rested his torso on the edge of the granite pathway.
"So," he said in a voice that rumbled like thunder. "I believe we have some things to discuss."
*reads, gives Kuja opinions, then waits for next chapter*
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
Kuja wrote:Through the rarely-seen technique called 'picking something up'.
The glowing weapon cartwheeled through the misty air and came down right in the center of the mob of vices, blade sticking into the ground. Then, it released a massive explosion that leveled the center of the group, stopping just short of the Burmecians. As the smoke cleared and Frey charged through, he leaned as far over in the saddle as he could and pulled his sword out of the ground.
Golde stepped forward. "Master Gizamaluke, I would speak with you a moment."
The creature nodded. "Then speak, friend." Golde walked up to the massive dragon and began speaking quietly. Serena heard a tapping sound and looked around irritably for the source, then realized it was one of her own claws. She forced herself to stop. Easy, woman, she thought. Pull yourself together. She caught herself squeezing her crossed arms and again forced herself to relax. Harmless flirting, that's all it is, and you gave up your claim on him, now calm down! She glanced at Frey, who stood just a few feet to her right. He was looking at Gizamaluke, and Serena could almost see his mind working, examining the master of the Grotto, evaluating what it would be like to fight against him, or alongside him. He started to turn and she quickly looked away before he caught her. She locked her eyes on the far walls of the cavern and kept them there. Her claws dug into her arms as she fought to keep herself from trembling. Finally, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn away again. Unable to stop herself, she looked back at him again. Like a bubble rising to the surface of a pool, a thought crossed her mind. Could I get him back?
"Insanity," Gizamaluke suddenly whispered. Serena jumped guiltily before she realized that he wasn't speaking to her. All eyes fixed on Gizamaluke as he reared. "Tell them, minister," he said.
Golde turned and ran a hand over his brow. "A second army has cut off the northern entrance to the Grotto."
Behind Serena, Daren leapt to his feet. "More vices?"
Golde nodded. "Vices. Lizardmen. Serpions as well." He hesitated. "And several figures dressed in black."
Serena snarled. "Allen."
"Biggs," Daren added.
"Wedge," Frey growled. "The bastards have us hemmed in."
At the sound of Frey's voice, Gizamaluke suddenly blinked and looked over. He raised his eyebrows gently. "Well, now," he said. "This is a new face." He leaned towards Frey. "Come closer. It has been many years since a human stood before me." Frey walked up to stand before Gizamaluke. The mighty dragon's crimson eyes fixed on the man. "Alexandrian by the looks of you."
"That's right."
Gizamaluke chuckled darkly. "The last Alexandrian to cross my path ended up as a cinder when he tried to steal one of my bells."
"And I just had to be the lucky second." Frey shook his head.
"Your levity serves as quite a useful tool," Gizamaluke said. His eyes narrowed. "But there's more to you, so much more..."
"That's enough," Frey said sharply.
Gizamaluke blinked and suddenly looked contrite. "My apologies. It has been far too long since I was able to link myself to a mind that was so...alive."
"I don't understand."
"You probably couldn't." Gizamaluke looked away. To Frey, he looked as though he carried a tremendous burden that had suddenly chosen to manifest itself. "That's enough. We have more urgent matters. The servants of the renegades have boxed us in. My Grotto is meant to be a way station and holy ground; I cannot support the number of people here for very long without outside help. We have enough food and water to supply us for a few days, but certainly no longer than a week. More distressing is that my own abilities are being blunted."
"Blunted?" Daren asked quickly.
Gizamaluke sighed. To Frey, the powerful draconic visage again seemed to be replaced by something ancient and world-weary. "It has always been the fate of my lineage to read the path of life flowing about us. We are the watchers. We are those who live and learn by listening to the life around us. I cannot convey the measure of what I mean, for no words exist. It would be like describing the trilling of a flute to the deaf. And now, something...some smothering blanket of darkness is deafening me. I cannot sense what is happening beyond the boundaries of the Grotto, nor can I sense the intentions of our enemies."
"Then our choices are limited," Golde said.
"Maybe we should abandon the Grotto and try to smash through one of the armies," Frey said. The remark caused an uproar. The various ministers and priests began shouting, some in support of the idea, some in opposition. Several people called for quiet, but the crowd ignored them. Frey looked at Serena. "I didn't think it would be that controversial," he said.
SILENCE! Gizamaluke suddenly snarled on a level other than speech. Within moments, the chamber was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Gizamaluke looked at Frey sternly. "We cannot abandon this grotto, young man."
"I know that it's your home and a holy place," Frey said patiently. "But we have to face reality. There's a couple of armies sitting on your doorstep and they-"
Gizamaluke raised a wing and Frey halted. "The true gravity of the situation escapes you," he said. "All of you."
Frey stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on the cool scales of Gizamaluke's neck, ignoring the murmurings that suddenly started up behind him. "If you tell us, maybe we could think of something."
Gizamaluke reared and slipped away from Frey's hand. "It would be far easier to show you," he said, his voice again taking on the mantle of power and nobility. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When they opened again, he looked renewed. "Close your eyes, all of you, and be seated." A few people looked at each other, unsure, but those wearing the robes of the Grotto did so instantly. Golde, Frey, Serena, and Daren did so as well, and the rest followed their lead.
With her eyes closed, Serena could feel her other senses sharpening. She could hear Gizamaluke's breathing, strong and even, like the pulse of the planet itself. She felt her heart begin to race. Simultaneously, she felt her breathing slow. She felt some kind of presence touch her, like the light caress of a gentle wind. Without warning, she felt herself suddenly pulled out of her body. She gasped-or would have if she'd had lungs. She felt herself floating and realized that she could see again, although the edges of her vision were blurred. She looked down in astonishment and saw herself slumped on the ground. The bodies of the others who had been in the cavern along with her lay strewn everywhere. She was on the verge of panic when she felt something immensely soothing touch her. If she had still been in possession of her body, she might have related it to a cloth doused with cool water.
Frey? she asked, though she had no lips.
It's me, Serena, she heard Daren's voice say. She felt him touch her and come closer, as though he were taking her by the arm. The sensation was immensely comforting. She looked towards where he should have been, but saw nothing. She felt things, though. A lot of things...
She reeled away from the sheer onslaught of emotion. It was as though instead of seeing Daren, she had felt him, right down to his very core. It was staggering, yet strangely enticing. She realized that she could sense the others in the cavern. She recognized Golde...worry-determination-curiousness-astonishment...she continued looking. There was Frey.
...eagerness-vigor-confidence-humor...
It was delicious. She lost herself in the storm of emotion radiating from his presence. Unchecked, uncontrolled, it flowed over and around her like a wild river. Then he noticed her.
The sudden swell blew her back. For one truly terrifying moment, she felt as though she would spin through the air disoriented forever. Then she felt Daren close by and wildly flailed at him. He caught her and firmly anchored her to his own consciousness.
Are you alright? What happened?
I'm fine...I think. She gathered her wits. She felt another presence touch her, this one unfamiliar.
Please, hold onto me, the priest's voice said. I shall keep you safe. The other priests and priestesses moved through the group, each taking charge of two or three others. Sensing them, Serena could well believe the wild tales of angels that were said to inhabit the mountains. Frey's aura suddenly changed, and Serena saw one of the priestesses take hold of him. She brushed the other mind with her own and recognized Miranda. A sudden, wild wave of jealousy filled her.
Serena, stop! Daren yelled. That hurts! She realized that Daren could feel her and quickly brought herself under control.
Are they all safe? Gizamaluke's massive voice said. She could hear the priests replying, and the master of the grotto nodded. Then follow me! With a sudden burst of exuberance, he reared and flipped backwards, arcing through the air and plunging headfirst into the water. The followers of the mighty dragon moved after him, taking their charges with them. Serena felt nervous as they approached the surface, but to her astonishment, they simply slipped through and kept descending. She reminded herself that in this spiritual existence, she didn't need to breathe. The urge to flounder and make for the surface was still strong, though. She felt Daren's anxiety as well, but he covered it and gently reached out to steady her as they fairly flew through the tunnel of water. She was touched.
Ahead of them, she could see Gizamaluke's massive tail moving up and down in powerful strokes, propelling the massive body through the dark water at amazing speeds. Suddenly, she felt Frey detach himself from Miranda and dive ahead of the group to catch up with the grotto master. Not about to let him show her up, Serena took hold of Daren and leaped away from their own guide. Her mind told her that she felt the coolness of the water around her as she and Daren accelerated and adhered to the mighty dragon's back.
You three learn quickly, Gizamaluke said with respect. Not everyone is able to adjust to the astral plane so quickly.
Where are we going? Frey asked.
You shall soon see. Gizamaluke came to an intersection in the tunnels and immediately dove straight down. The water was pitch black, and all Serena could see was Gizamaluke's glowing red eyes. She felt things, though. Oh, so many things. Just as a stream of emotion had passed over her when she touched Frey, now a torrential downpour of feelings and heartfelt sentiments soaked her as she touched Gizamaluke's back.
The range of emotions nearly drove her mad. Gizamaluke's mind washed over her, and suddenly, she knew his feelings.
Frey sensed the great dragon's thoughts as well. The beauty of life, the crushing sadness of death. An overwhelming sense of fulfillment unlike any he had ever known, and gained from nothing more than the opening of a flower bud. Frey suddenly understood Gizamaluke's great gift...and curse. To sense the joy of achievement and wonder of love...and to watch it whither and die with time and the wasting of the body and the mind. To stand idly by and watch while life repeated its cruel cycle of birth, life, and death hundreds of times over. To sense the agony of war, feeling each soldier's death as though it were your own. Frey's respect for the dragon doubled, and doubled again. To live with such power for even just these few seconds was beyond description. But for decades and decades?
Do not weep for me, Alexandrian, Gizamaluke's voice said. I am stronger than you suspect. And I sense that you carry your own burdens. Burdens that not every man could withstand.
Thank you, he said uncertainly.
Tell me, would you like to see more of what surrounds you? Gizamaluke asked. There was an almost childlike longing in his voice. A tremendous desire for companionship
Frey smiled, or would have if he could. Yes, he said. The dragon continued to thrash his body through the tunnel, but as he did so, a slight glow began to emanate from his wings. Soft, white light shone onto the surrounding rock walls at they rushed by. Frey stared in shock. He had known they were moving quickly, but the sides of the tunnel rushed by with such speed that he was completely unable to make out any details. Ahead, he saw the tunnel widening.
We are nearly there, Gizamaluke said. The tunnel opened up with surprising quickness, and Frey realized that they had entered a cavern the size of which dwarfed the one they had left. Even with Gizamaluke's light, he could see nothing beyond a few dozen feet of rock wall behind them. Gizamaluke waited for the rest of those who had followed him to arrive, then turned to face them sternly. What I show you here must remain secret, he said. Speak of it to no one but those you feel must know of it. He turned again and tensed. His wings tucked into his sides as he trembled. Now, know the secret of my grotto! he thundered and threw his wings out. They blazed with a fierce light that would have blinded Frey had he been here in body.
The wondrous light illuminated an astonishing scene. At the bottom of the submerged cavern were the ruins of what must have once been a temple or palace. Columns of what looked like marble jutted up from the rocky floor and cut off in jagged points. Frey guessed that the building itself had once been at least three or four stories tall and built out of sturdy granite blocks that had long since been worn away by the currents in the water. Without stopping to think, he began descending, trying to get a better look at the once-proud structure. Suddenly, he felt Daren cut him off. Don't! yelled the Dragon Knight.
What? What is it?
Can't you sense it?
Frey was about to ask Daren what he meant when he felt it: a quiet, nagging sense of foreboding. It seemed to be coming from the ruined temple. In fact, the more Frey thought about it, the more he realized that he really didn't want to go in there. He edged closer to Gizamaluke. What is it? Or what was it?
Gizamaluke did not look at him, but rather addressed all those present. Two thousand years ago, the world was very different from today. The race known as the Burmecians had not yet become self-aware, and humans were far more common than they are today. They constructed ever-greater monuments to their power and might, and their understanding of magic was much more potent. It was a golden age that lasted for decades. Yet today, history knows nothing of the people who lived then.
What happened? asked Golde.
It was not enough for some to simply live in such times. They wanted to rule. And so it was that a mysterious and evil knight summoned to this very place a dark creature, a foul spawn of malevolence that threatened the very fabric of our world. All would have been lost, had it not been for four brave young warriors. They faced down the dark knight and his grotesque servants here in this very palace. Gizamaluke's eyes passed over the group. Their battle was titanic beyond imagining. Entire cities were erased from existence. Continents were shattered. The very face of our planet was changed into something unrecognizable. When all was said and done, the evil in this place had been soundly defeated, but not destroyed completely. Some part of it still inhabits this place, even after all this time. A humorless grin touched his inhuman lips. I can sense your astonishment. As I said, the understanding of magic was far greater back then. A hundred Dragon Knights of today could not have withstood the power of a single mage of those times. Gizamaluke turned back to the palace. So the evil still sleeps within. That is why this Grotto is here. My great-grandparent found this place and dedicated himself to guarding it, ensuring that no person could ever access its terrible power. Ever since, my lineage has stood vigilant, burdening ourselves for the good of our world. He finally turned to look at Frey. And that, Alexandrian, is why we cannot abandon this grotto. Allowing Allen Olivera to tap into this black source of power would be unthinkable.
Frey was very quiet as he contemplated this turn of events.
--------------------------
Serena's head pounded as she opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. Beside her, Frey sat up with a grunt. He rubbed his temples. "Oh, man," he complained. Others also began to rise from where they lay, nearly all of them muttering about a headache or some other minor annoyance.
"I apologize," Gizamaluke said. "I've never attempted to hold so many psyches to the astral plane at once. I suppose I was a little rough."
"I've had worse hangovers," Frey muttered. Serena snorted and pushed herself to her feet.
Golde looked as though he'd swallowed a wasp's nest. "Master Gizamaluke, what do we do now?" he asked. "We cannot abandon the grotto, but we have no way out."
Frey looked grim. "Maybe it would be better to just stand and fight."
"We'll lose," Serena said. She hated to admit it, but realized that there could be no other outcome.
"Yeah," Frey agreed. "But at least we'll die knowing we made Allen pay a hefty price for his power."
The silence that followed pressed down on all those present. Finally, Daren stepped forward. "Master Gizamaluke," he asked. "Is there really no other way out?"
Gizamaluke shook his head sorrowfully. Again, the chamber lapsed into silence. Then Miranda stepped forward. "Master Gizamaluke, what about..." she trailed off.
He looked at her. "Speak your mind," he said gently.
Miranda looked down at the floor. "The air well," she said softly.
All of the other grotto residents shot forward, nearly all of them shouting some kind of denial. Miranda looked frantic and began speaking quickly to them, too quickly for Serena to catch any individual words. Gizamaluke reared and looked off into the distance, as though considering what she had said. "What's she talking about?" Daren whispered.
"No idea," she replied.
"That's enough, all of you," Gizamaluke said. Most of the priests and priestesses quieted, but one stepped forward.
"Master Gizamaluke, she doesn't realize-"
"I said that's enough, Raiken," Gizamaluke stated firmly. The young man gulped and dropped to on knee in apology. "Miranda, speak."
She bowed. "I know that we cannot safely move everyone out," she said. "But one or two might be able to escape and get word to Burmecia, or maybe Lindblum."
"What you suggest is very dangerous."
"I know." She looked ready to say more, but Frey barged in.
"Can someone please fill the rest of us in, here?" he asked.
Gizamaluke turned. "What Miranda is proposing is that we send a messenger or two through a small opening in the roof of the grotto that exits in the plateau above, just below the peaks of the Aeribs Mountains. The passage is far too small for all those here to get through, but if word can be sent for reinforcements-"
"I'll do it," Frey said quickly.
Daren shot forward. "I'll go with him."
"Calm yourselves," Gizamaluke said. "You do not know the real danger yet. The plateau above is the territory of the Grand Dragons." He let that sink in. "Were you to take that route they would consider you trespassing on their domain. They would attack you."
"It's worth the risk, isn't it?" Daren said. "Either we risk our lives out there or we stay die and die for certain!"
"He's right," Frey added. "It's a chance, at least!"
"Then you are both willing to take this risk?"
The two men looked at each other and nodded. Miranda bowed again. "Master Gizamaluke, please allow me to accompany them."
Gizamaluke reared. "Under no circumstances!" he said, startled. "Miranda, you are far too young to undertake such a challenge!"
"It was my idea," the young woman protested. "I should have the right-"
She quieted as a hand dropped onto her shoulder. "Sorry, young lady," Serena said. "But there's only enough room in this group for one woman, and that's me."
"NO!" both Daren and Frey shouted simultaneously.
"Don't even start," she shot back. "And no speeches about how it's dangerous," she added as Daren took another breath. "I know it is. You know it is. I'm coming with you, end of story." She dropped her voice and speared Frey with a glare. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Frey covered his mouth with his hand, trying to look sage, but she caught the "hell" he muttered. He sighed. "Fine," he spoke aloud.
"It is nearly sunset now," Gizamaluke said. "You will have to leave once night falls." He looked at the three of them evenly. "Remember, once you leave, time is of the essence. Go quickly and quietly. If you catch the attention of the Grand Dragons..." he shook his head.
"We'll make it," Daren said firmly. He looked at Serena. "All of us."
Serena kept her eyes on Frey, who returned her unblinking gaze with his own. Unbidden, the memory of when Frey had sensed her presence came floating back.
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
Singular Quartet wrote:A palace and a Dark Knight, defeated by Four Warriors?
...
I do beleive there is no city named Conoria, or am I poking in the wrong direction?
*smiles mysteriously and says nothing*
Bad Kuja!
Almost as bad as your Namesake in 9.
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
The truth is, I'm leaving that little bit up to y'alls imaginations. There's actually dialogue in the game that supports it, but if you want to believe it was Garland and the light warriors, great. If you don't, that's cool too.
Serena's head was bowed in prayer. Frey couldn't see her face from behind, but he could imagine it. He leaned against the doorway leading to the small chapel, not quite ready to walk inside. He simply stood and examined it. It was a fairly small room with two rows of benches carved from solid stone. Three torches on either wall lent it a flickering light. At the other end of the room, a statue depicting a small dragon touching a kneeling Burmecian looked out over the benches.
"You're allowed to come in, you know," Serena suddenly said. Frey jumped. She turned and opened an eye. "Come here."
Frey took a deep breath, then crossed the threshold into the small chapel. His breath seemed to come unevenly and he felt his limbs trembling. The closer he came to Serena, the worse it got. Somehow, he managed to stay on his feet. She looked up at him as he reached her bench. "Sit," she said firmly. He slowly lowered himself onto the bench beside her. She turned back to face forward and closed her eyes again. He sat tensely, his hands on his knees as though he was ready to leap up and bolt at the slightest sound. "You know," Serena said without opening her eyes, "there's a saying back in Burmecia."
Frey swallowed. "And that is?"
"'When one is alone, one prays. When one is with friends, no prayer is needed.'"
There was a prolonged silence. "We'll make it, Serena," Frey finally said, feeling obligated.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He blinked and fumbled for an answer. "I mean...well, I don't...I mean we'll make it...out safely."
She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I know we'll make it, Frey," she said. "But do you think...do you think that we'll make it?"
He caught the meaning in her voice and looked away. "I thought we made an agreement, Serena," he said softly.
She stretched her arms out and flattened her palms on her legs. "We did," she whispered. A curtain of silence fell between them. "I want to go with you again, Frey," she finally said.
"What about your family? What about your oath as a Dragon Knight?"
She blinked. "Why are you asking me that?"
He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, eyes fixed on the statue. "Because they're questions you're going to be asking yourself if you do."
"Frey, I don't care about-"
"Don't lie."
She turned away at the sharp rejoinder, knowing he was right. "I love you, Frey. Doesn't that mean something?"
"It means a lot, damn it!" His hands curled into fists and he drummed them on his knees. Then, he sighed. "Maybe we made a mistake."
"Maybe," Serena said. "But if you could do things differently, would you?"
"No," he admitted. He reached up and took out the emerald pendant. "Not for the world."
She suddenly seized his hands. "Frey, listen to me," she said in a rush. "maybe we were wrong. Maybe when this is all over, maybe we can pick up where we thought we had to leave off. Maybe I don't really have to go home, maybe-"
"Maybe we can spend the rest of our lives on the run from hunters looking for the Dragon Knight who went back on her oath," Frey snarled, and snatched his hands away. "I'm hearing a lot of 'maybes' from you, Serena. I thought you were sure."
"I am, but in the opposite direction now," she said, her voice at once strong and quavering. "Frey, we were wrong. We can stay together, we can!"
"How?" he said, tone challenging. "Could you get away with running away from Burmecia? Tell me that, and look me in the eye when you do it. Because I don't know your nation's policy on folks who go back on their oaths, but in Alexandria, it's called treason." The words hung heavily in the air between them for a few moments before Frey turned his body towards her. "Think about what you're saying. Are you ready to never, ever see home again? Your friends? Your family? Serena, I'm flattered that you want to be with me that much, I really am, but think about what you're saying."
"We..." she said softly, searching for words. "We could leave."
That stopped him cold. "What?"
"Leave. When this is all over, we could slip away, take one of the ships across the ocean to Daguerreo, or Esto Gaza." She looked up into his eyes. "We could start over, just the two of us."
"Yeah right, somewhere neither of us has ever been." Frey's lip curled. "Where would we stay? Who would our friends be?" He stood and crossed his arms. "I might be a wanderer, but I'm not a vagabond who needs to jump at every chance for survival. Esto Gaza? Daguerreo? Have you ever even seen these places, Serena? I'm happy here with my life," he continued, clutching his hands to his chest to make his point. "And that's why we agreed to stay apart. You know as well as I do there's nothing waiting for us across the ocean. There's no happy ending there. Just a dead end."
She rose to match him. "We'd be together."
"But we'd have nothing, don't you see that? We'd have to hide away, never show our faces in the cities we know, never see the people we love again. Is that really living, Serena?"
She grit her teeth. "I don't care."
"The truth!"
"I don't care!" she shouted. She faced him down, a fire burning in her emerald eyes. "I love you, Frey, can't you see that? I love you so much that it hurts to even think about living without you! And I thought you loved me!"
He reached out and fiercely pulled her to him. "I do," he said. "I do, damn it. But listen to me-"
"No, you listen to me!" she said, pulling away. "You said you loved me, Frey Amethyst. But when push comes to shove, your actions don't back up your words! I'm giving you this one chance to be with me for the rest of our lives! Don't you want that, don't you need that?"
He shook his head. "More than anything else." He took a deep breath. "but there's nothing there, Serena. You'd be on the run from Burmecia, I'd never see any of my other friends again. Serena, I love you more than any person I've ever known." He took a step backwards. "But I can't show it by staying with you. You have to accept that." He took another step.
She stared at him, jaw hanging open. "Bastard!" she suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs. He stopped and stared at her as she transformed from an astonished woman to a furious virago. "How many times since I've known you have you been willing to throw your life on the line for someone you barely even knew? How many times have you told me that life is what we make it? And now, here I am, I'm willing to throw away everything I've ever had to be with you and you're not willing to take a chance!" She clenched her fists. "That tells me a lot, Frey! It tells me that maybe you don't love me as much as I thought you did! It tells me that you're not as tough as I thought you were! I always thought of you as the bravest person I know, but when push comes to shove, you tuck your tail between your legs and run away like some scared dog!"
"Damn you to hell!" he snarled, feeling his own temper shoot up into the red zone. "How dare you accuse me of being a coward! You don't get it, do you? You're so blind, you can't see past your own nose! Can't you see that we can't have what we want? It'd destroy us both! We'd be living for nothing, nothing but seeing another day! Well, I don't want to live like that, and deep down, I know you don’t either! So, enough! We made that promise for a reason, and we can't break it now!" He lowered his voice. "So I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to turn around and walk out of this chapel and calm down. You're going to stay here and calm down. And when we meet at the air well, we are going to go up there, make it through this, and we will not break our promise." He turned. "I'll see you there." He took a step, then another.
"Don't you walk away from me, Frey Amethyst," he heard Serena suddenly say. He hitched, then kept walking. Never once did he look back.
------------------------------
Daren's thoughts were elsewhere as he walked the upper corridors of the grotto. These were more reminiscent of a Burmecian temple than an underground cavern. As he walked, eh thought about many things. He thought about his family. He thought about the upcoming mission. The thought about the darkness sleeping below and what would happen if Allen got hold of it. But time and again, his thoughts drifted back to Serena. He had felt her touch him down in the cavern, when Gizamaluke had lifted them out of their bodies. He knew she had sensed his attraction for her, but he was at a loss as to what to do now. Part of him said to act on it, to speak to Serena now, right now, and tell her everything. Another side argued to hold back, to leave her alone until this was all over. He remembered the crushing wave of jealousy that had poured out of her when Miranda had touched Frey in the cavern. No, he decided. Right now was not a good time to approach her.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he barely noticed the nods from the people he passed as he walked. And when Frey appeared up ahead of him, he almost didn't look up. But he did, and blinked in surprise at the almost palpable anger in the other man. "Frey-"
"Get out of my way," Frey snarled, and before Daren could recoup, he pushed past and kept going. Daren stared at his retreating back. He looked up the corridor towards where Frey had appeared, then back at the other man. Finally, he decided to see what had set off the normally level human. He prowled forward, this time keeping his mind fully alert. He nearly passed by the chapel when his sharp ears detected some kind of breathing. His eyes narrowed and he looked in.
Serena stood with her back to him, arms at her sides, fists clenched. Her shoulders heaved. Delicately, he slipped inside the chapel and approached her. "Serena?"
"Go away, Daren," she said, voice strained. "Please."
He stayed where he was. "What happened?"
She spun. "Nothing that concerns you!" she snapped. He took a step back in shock as he saw the anger in her eyes. Tears ran down the sides of her face. "Now, leave."
He stood silently. Then, something else caught his eye. "Miss Crescent," he said gently, "unclench your hands."
A look of surprise at his words briefly replaced the anger and she looked down as she opened her fists. Blood ran from where her claws had dug into her own palms. Her hands shook a bit as the pain finally made itself known. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'll take care of it, Daren," she said, weariness in her voice. "Now please go away."
"No," he said, taking both of them by surprise.
Her eyebrows shot up. "No?"
He shook his head. "No. Not until first, you let me take a look at your hands and second, you tell me what's going on here." She started to protest, but he cut her off. "Look I passed by Frey in the hall and he practically ran me over. Then I find you here, crying your eyes out and slicing up your own hands without even realizing it, so I'm not leaving until I find out what the hell's going on!"
The echoes from his voice died away, leaving them in silence. Finally, Serena gave in and collapsed onto the nearest bench, eyes closed. Daren went to sit on the bench behind hers and gently took her arms. Serena's claws had done quite a number on her hands, he realized as he looked at them. With her fists clenched, they'd dug deeply into her flesh, piercing blood vessels and slicing nerves. It was a wonder she hadn't screamed. One hand went to his belt and fished a potion out of one of the pouches. As he delicately poured it over her injuries, he spoke. "Now, let's hear it."
"I'd rather not-"
He gave her hand a little squeeze and she yelped. "Now," he said firmly. "Come evening, I'm going to be relying on the two of you. I need people who can hold themselves together, not a pair of wrecks. Out with it."
She broke down and told him everything, starting with the night she'd spent with Frey and ending with what had just happened. Through it all, he remained silent, tending to her hands as she spoke. When she finally was done, she felt as though she had no energy left. Even her eyelids threatened to close on her. She gave into the feeling, closing her eyes and leaning forward until her forehead rested on Daren's shoulder. She felt him awkwardly put his arms around her. "Sometimes," she admitted, "I just don't know what to do."
"We all find our way," he said.
She smiled a bit. "What about you?"
"Hmmm?"
She lifted her head up and looked him in the eyes. He swallowed. "Come on, Daren, I know how you feel about me. I sensed it in the cavern, and I could tell even before that."
He looked away. "I don't think that's something we should bring up now."
"We could be dead by tomorrow."
"That's a cheap shot."
She reached up and gently guided Daren to look back at her. "Daren, I loved Allen."
He winced visibly. "I know."
"And now we might end up having to kill him."
"Yes."
She was silent for time. "I've loved Frey, as well."
He exhaled. "I know."
"And now, it seems no matter what we do, what we say, we're not going to stay together."
Daren swallowed hard. "I...I'm sorry."
"Daren?"
"Yes?"
"More than anything else in this world...I want to love someone and know they love me in return. Is that...just too much to ask?"
He drew her closer, feeling the sorrow in her voice. "No," he said gently. "No, it's not."
Exhausted, she didn't even realize her eyes were closing until she'd fallen asleep in his arms. Uncomfortable with the whole situation, Daren decided he had no choice but to stay by her and let her get some rest, for a while at least. Then, they would have to go.
-----------------------
Frey's back was getting wet from the condensation, but that didn't register with him. He'd stormed away from the chapel and headed down almost by instinct. When his energy finally seemed spent, he'd stopped and simply leaned up again the nearest wall. He rubbed his temples with thumb and forefinger, as though he expected an answer to come if he massaged hard enough. He just wanted what was best for Serena; couldn't she see that? Had he his choices, he'd gladly have swept her off her feet and lived with her forever.
But, damn it all, that just wasn't possible. Serena and he both had obligations in life, and they simply contradicted each other. Serena had a responsibility to her family and, much more relevant, a responsibility to serve her country. Serena had explained the situation to him in full one night a couple years ago. Dragon Knights weren't like soldiers, who could sign up for a period of years and then go back to a civilian life if they chose. No, Dragon Knights were trained for years alone. Burmecia simply had too much vested in them; their service was more or less for life. Serena had been lucky to get such a long leave of absence, she'd said. In fact, the only reason she had gotten it was because certain Burmecian officials - like Golde - wanted the Dragon Knights to be more visible and have more understanding of the world than just theoretical.
Frey's responsibilities weighed on him much less tangibly, but they still existed. He'd once pledged to Cairn to never let another dictate the course of his life. He was pretty sure that marrying Serena wouldn't count as such, but it was still something to consider. There was also something else, something he'd never told Serena. Someday, he hadn't decided when, he was going to settle down. Not in Treno, that was far too riotous and garish a city for his tastes, and not somewhere like Dali that got a new visitor about once a decade. Lindblum - and Corri - certainly remained a possibility, but a part of him wanted to go back to Alexandria for good. The point of the matter, though, was that to do so would be to cheat Serena. He knew that she wanted to stay with him and live as they had for the last five years and while that certainly appealed to Frey, he didn't plan on doing it forever.
He continued brooding until he felt someone sharply poke him in the arm. Startled, he shot up straight and away from the wall. "I called your name four times," Miranda said crossly.
"Sorry, I was - sorry," he said quickly.
"Is something the matter?"
"No, no, just resting my eyes for a second. Why were you looking for me?"
"Master Gizamaluke wants to speak with you again. I believe he has something to ask you."
"Ask me?" he blinked. "Well, sure, lead the way." She gave him a sidelong glance, as though she didn't believe for a moment he'd been resting his eyes, but then turned and led him back the way he'd come. To his surprise, she led him not to the large chamber from before, but a smaller, secluded one. Unlike the massive cavern, the walls of this room had been carefully hewn from the rock and were decorated with dozens of painted images. Here were dragons, there were mountains, here were some humanish figures, and there were some that more resembled Burmecians. A large, round tunnel in the floor was filled with water, and it was through this that Gizamaluke projected his head and shoulders. Thanks to the dozen or so torches on the wall, Frey could dimply make out the rest of his body below the surface of the water. Behind Gizamaluke was an alter of marble or some other such stone. A pair of pillars the height and girth of a person shot up from the altar, with a large slab of obsidian between them. A pair of priests stood behind it, conversing quietly. Frey offered the grotto master a courteous nod and buried his thoughts about Serena. "You wanted to see me?" he asked.
"Yes," the dragon replied softly. From his voice, Frey thought that had Gizamaluke been human, he would have been sitting back with his fingers laced meditatively.
"Were are we?"
"This was once the place where I conducted Sealings."
"Isn't that a marriage?"
"More or less. There are differences in the way it is implemented in Burmecian culture, but the fundamental idea remains the same. In any case, both my parent and his before him both were empowered to act as an Oathmaster by the Burmecian government, but I suppose that since I've taken a bit more active a role in protecting this grotto, it has become somewhat 'trendy' to have me perform the rite." A smile touched the dragonish lips. "So, I was forced to move to a larger chamber."
"How did your parents...excuse me, your parent, gain the honor?"
Gizamaluke shrugged. "We protect what Burmecians recognize as holy ground. It was originally more or less a ceremonial title, but my duties have blossomed."
"When you say parent," Frey asked with genuine curiosity, "you don't mean a father or mother, do you?"
"No. You humans and Burmecians, when you want a child, you more or less choose when you want to have one. For my line, when it happens…it simply happens." He eyed the human. "That's not what I called you here for, however."
"I'm sorry."
"Not at all!" the grotto master said mirthfully. "It is a pleasure to speak with you, Alexandrian. However, what I wanted to enquire about is your sword."
"My sword?" Frey's hand dropped instinctively to the hilt. "What about it?"
"Draw it for me." Frey shrugged and pulled the handle. With a ring, the blade slipped out of the sheath and hovered in the air before him. Frey kept it horizontal and turned the flat of the blade towards Gizamaluke so that he could get a clear view. "A fine weapon," the master of the grotto commented.
"Thank you. I made it myself."
"Yes, I know. I can see your spirit's hand within it."
Whatever that means, Frey thought.
"Did you ever give it a name?"
"Well, no. I always thought that was, well, kind of silly. My father Cairn always said that if a person had the gall to name his sword, his ego was already his most dangerous weapon."
Gizamaluke snorted a laugh. "An interesting outlook." The grotto master tilted his head to one side. "But I can sense that you have been unable to make your sword's spirit part of your own."
"What?" he said out loud. "That's the second time you've said something about spirit. What do you mean?"
"With your permission, Frey of Alexandria, I would like to bless this sword. I can unlock the potential hidden within it. Then, you will not fight as a man with his sword, but as one creature, without beginning or end, hand or hilt, and you will see that there is nothing you cannot accomplish!"
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
One torch was set on each pillar, and all the others were extinguished. The flickering orange light gave the room a very eerie feeling. The two priests knelt before the altar, speaking in Burmecian. "What are they saying?" Frey asked softly.
"They're reconsecrating the altar," Miranda whispered back. "Master Gizamaluke hasn't used this room for its intended purpose in years and years. He wants the altar to be fresh, or the whole ceremony could be for nothing."
"Good to know there's no stakes," he muttered. He absent-mindedly drummed his fingers on his sword hilt. He wasn't looking forward to giving the weapon up a second time, even if it was just for a short time.
Gizamaluke spread his wings and spoke quickly and quietly in Burmecian. He leaned over the obsidian slab, eyes closed. "Iament teseser iy yon levt ourisser," he said, and then leaned away again. His eyes opened. "Everything is ready."
The two priests turned and came to Frey. "Your sword, please," one of them said.
Here goes, he thought. He gripped the handle and drew the sword, then placed it in the waiting hands of the two men. "Take care of it," he said before letting go. They bowed and returned to the altar.
"That sword is very important to you, isn't it?" Miranda asked.
"I've carried that sword a long time," he said. "Made it with my own hands. I've taken a lot of lives with it." His eyes never left the weapon. The priests gently set the sword onto the slab. Frey could see the light from the torches reflecting in the blade. One of the priests silently picked up a bowl, the other a brush that was promptly dipped into the bowl. When it came out, the bristles were dripping water. The priest brought the brush to the blade and began to delicately and methodically paint lines onto it. "Hey!" Frey started.
"Quiet!" Miranda said, throwing an arm over his chest. "Don't worry. It's just holy water."
"Holy nothing," he muttered. "It'll rust the metal." But he subsided and watched as Gizamaluke's men continued to work. The brush slid over the metal of the blade, swishing this way and that, creating runes and sigils that Frey could barely make out, let alone understand. Finally, the two men stepped away from the altar and bowed deeply.
Gizamaluke reared. "Within this blade there dwells a soul," he intoned. Frey wondered if this was for real or part of the tradition. "For many years, it has quietly slept, awaiting a day to be awakened so that it could live and work to do its master's will. Gods of the heavens, gods of the earth, gods of the winds and seas, I beg of you to help me accomplish this, for it is a task worthy of your patronage." Several minutes passed in silence. "Gods of the heavens, gods of the earth," Gizamaluke began again, and restated his final sentence. More time passed. Gizamaluke repeated the words again.
"Why isn't anything happening?" Frey whispered.
"The gods are not at the beck and call of Master Gizamaluke," Miranda said tersely, as though she expected him to know better. "Sometimes they do not come at all."
"Then why doesn't Gizamaluke just move on?"
"Because he cannot duplicate the blessings of a god, that's why," she said. She smiled. "And because he's more stubborn than you realize."
Gizamaluke repeated his request a fourth time.
"VERY WELL, I AM HERE!" a massive voice thundered. Bolts of lightning erupted from the ceiling, and Frey realized that 'thundered' was the perfect word to describe that voice. A man, his beard white and reaching down to his waist, descended from one of the large sigils in the ceiling. He wore beautiful robes that made his ancient face look frightening and amazing at the same time. In one hand, he gripped a staff, the head of which crackled with electricity. "WHAT IS IT YOU WISH OF ME?" Ramuh demanded.
"Mighty Lord of Thunder," Gizamaluke said with a bow. "I beg of you to bless with sword, that its owner may carry it into battle and deliver us from the evil that threatens our very world."
"LET THE WIELDER STEP FORWARD, THAT I MAY JUDGE HIM WORTHY!" Ramuh declared. His staff sparked as he spoke.
Frey came forward and offered a clumsy bow. "I-I wield the sword, Lord Ramuh," he said, voice betraying his anxiety.
The ancient god looked Frey directly in the eyes. "A warrior," he said softly, more to himself. He stretched out a bony hand towards Frey. "Full of passion and courage...and..." his eyes suddenly widened in anger. "VENGEANCE!" he bellowed. "YOU SEEK TO BLESS THIS SWORD THAT YOU MAY CUT ANOTHER DOWN!"
Wedge, Frey realized.
Ramuh looked to Gizamaluke. "YOU DARE SUMMON ME TO CONSECRATE THE SWORD OF ONE WHO SEEKS NOTHING MORE THAN THIS?"
"Master-"
"ENOUGH!" Ramuh banged the end of his staff on the ground as he raged. He suddenly rose and vanished again. The room was silent.
Frey opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden sensation of heat stopped him. Sweat appeared on his brow, and his hands suddenly felt slick with it. "Vengeance, eh?" a new voice said. This one whispered instead of raging the way Ramuh's had. It crackled like a forest fire as it did so. There was a suddenly burst of flame and a bonfire appeared on the floor before the altar. "An audacious act, asking for the blessing of a tool for revenge," the voice said, emanating from the flame. "One I cannot help but admire."
"Who-who are you?" Frey stammered.
"You do not know me? Perhaps you would better recognize another form." The flame resolved into that of a demonic creature alight with flames. Shark-like teeth stretched into a smile.
"Ifrit," Frey said, amazed almost beyond speaking.
"Very good," the demon god said. His canted his head a bit. "Vengeance is a road few walk righteously. Those who do not manage it often never recover." His eyes narrowed. "I sense in you a resolve burning like the strongest of my fires. Perhaps you do have the strength, and more importantly, the will to do this. Yes, Gizamaluke, I will bless his sword." Ifrit turned and swept his hand through the altar. The holy water on the blade suddenly shone brightly. White light emanated from the sigils, casting their glow all over the room. Ifrit vanished.
Laughter echoed throughout the room. "My lord Ifrit always has been the most elemental of us," a sensual woman's voice said. "But then, one must always expect such from the fire-born." A soft blue glow appeared before Frey. The temperature of the room began to drop noticeably. Frey's breath came out in clouds of white. "However, his lady Shiva is not nearly so martial, nor so quick to judgment." A woman appeared before Frey, a woman beautiful beyond imagining. Her skin had a bluish cast to it and her hair was white, as though she had been crafted from ice. An eyebrow arched. "Well, this is a handsome one," she said with a smile. She reached out and gently caressed Frey's cheek. Frost suddenly blossomed where she touched and Frey couldn't stop himself from wincing in pain. She pulled back. "I'm sorry! Sometimes I forget how fragile you mortals are." She retreated, floating over the ground like a soap bubble. "Fragile in more than body," she added languidly. "There is someone you have wounded in spirit this day."
"I-"
"Silence," she said firmly. She sat back on a cushion of air. "All who know me know that I am the mistress of ice," she said. "But few know that I also take more than a passing interest in the emotions and feelings of people." She fixed him with a stare as cold as her skin. "Are you a good man?"
"I...I do my best."
"I see." She leaned closer to him, and he felt the coldness grow more intense. "And your actions today are your best?"
His mouth worked, but no words came out. Shiva leaned away again, her lips pressed together in disappointment. "I'm sorry, Gizamaluke, but I cannot in good conscience bestow my blessings upon his blade. Farewell." Lady Shiva slowly disappeared into thin air. Almost immediately, a brand new presence filled the room. Frey felt his pulse race. His breath came rapidly. A wind began to circulate in the room. Frey felt as though he were back in one of the forests around Alexandria. "I know you..." a voice whispered. "I know you, I know you, I know you..." A shadow passed in front of Frey's eyes and suddenly, he was face-to-face with the biggest wolf he'd ever seen. Ten feet tall, with gray fur marked with black stripes, the Father of Wolves glared down at Frey. "You know me, as well."
Frey swallowed hard. "Fenrir."
"That's right." The wolf bared his teeth. "I have watched you for a long time, mortal. You have slain numerous creatures of the wild with no provocation. Why?"
Frey knew what the god referred to. "Because I hated them."
"You hated them!" the eidolon practically roared. "Gizamaluke of the black grotto, you ask me to consecrate this man's weapon? I should kill him where he stands!"
"Wait," Frey said, his voice straining. "Please."
"I'm waiting."
"I've changed, Lord Fenrir," he said, adopting the most respectful tone he could, despite the fact that his knees wanted to collapse.
"Is that so." The wolf's voice more than conveyed his skepticism.
"I know that...that life is something precious," he said. "I know now that what I did then was wrong. I-"
"Look into my eyes," Fenrir said, taking Frey by surprise. Frey did, and felt his stomach rise into his throat. He'd expected rage. He'd expected anger. He'd expected hate.
He hadn't expected pain. He hadn't expected anguish. He hadn't expected sadness. A father's love for his children, and the pain that accompanied their deaths. Death, when it occurred naturally, was a part of the natural cycle of the world. But when life was taken for no good reason, Fenrir received a full blow of loss. The emphatic qualities he'd sensed in Gizamaluke were enhanced a thousand fold in Fenrir. A human knew nothing of pain or sadness when compared to a god, and Frey was given a full dose.
The next thing Frey knew, he was sprawled on the floor of the room. Miranda supported his head. She held a drinking pouch to his lips and let him swallow some of the cool water inside. He felt tears streaming down his face. "It's too much," he whimpered. Fenrir did not reply. "I-I-"
"I feel that pain every day, mortal," Fenrir said. "My children, my sons and daughters, they cry out when they die. I hear them. Every day. Because of hunters who do not care for them. Because of people like you who misunderstand and fear the laws of the wild." Fenrir looked down at Frey, and he again felt a crushing wave of such heartbreaking loss that he shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. Miranda kept her arm around his neck to steady him. "Perhaps you have changed," Fenrir said. "There are some who would have looked into my eyes and felt not even the smallest twinge of regret." The Father of Wolves was silent for a time. "Perhaps you have changed, as you say. Very well, I shall give you my blessings. Go in peace." The great wolf turned and breathed on the sword. Once again, the holy water glowed brightly. The wind again began to blow, and Fenrir vanished from the chamber.
Frey remained on the floor, gasping. Suddenly, he felt another new presence fill his mind. His grief vanished in an instant and he wanted to smile broadly. He wanted to leap up and laugh, clap his hands in joy, and never do wrong again. I am here, young one, a new voice said. Calm and comforting, it filled Frey's mind. A soft white light began to radiate through the chamber, though a source never appeared.
"Who are you?" he asked aloud.
I am Alexander, called the bastion and the sanctuary of angels. I will be your final judge today, for no others are coming.
"Why not?"
They have already judged you unworthy of their blessings.
He blinked and felt his heart sink. "Why?"
Because they feel that you are not sufficient. Carbuncle is unhappy that you would truly wish the death of another. Odin takes your uncertainty as weakness. Leviathan sees no reason to help you. Bahamut thinks that you are already lost, that even with our blessings, you will lose. Phoenix is angry that only now, in this dark hour, do you ask our help. Atomos believes that the life you took so long ago is an unforgivable sin. Ark stands beside him, ready even now to take your soul to everlasting damnation. Madeen believes that while you do not merit such punishment, neither have you earned the right to a blessing.
"So you're it, huh?" he said grimly.
Do not let your hopes rise, mortal, for I may yet deem you unworthy. How you answer my questions will determine what transpires here.
Frey set himself. "Then let's get started."
Are you satisfied with the way you have treated your lover this day?
"What?" he blurted. Of all the things he'd expected, that hadn't been it.
She is burdened with pain. Pain that you have caused.
"I..." He looked down. "I never wanted that."
Yet it is so.
"I've never thought of myself as the perfect person. I make mistakes like everyone else."
And do you intend to rectify those mistakes?
"Yes," he said firmly. "I don't know how yet, but I do."
You did not approach Gizamaluke for this honor.
"No. He brought it up."
Why is that?
"Because...well, I never thought of it. And because I wouldn't have thought of it as realistic if I had."
Why is that, young one? Do you not believe in us? Do you not realize that we watch over you all and take care to examine each and every life? Do you not realize that if the truly righteous ask for our help, it will be given?
"I never knew, Alexander. I always thought that, well, you and the others were too busy to come and help one person like me."
Many think that, and the sadder their lives are for it! For we are ever vigilant, and we always come to the aid of those who truly love us.
"Forgive my question, but then why don't you just wipe out the army for us?"
Do not overstep your bounds, mortal! Alexander's voice said, suddenly offended. We may give you our blessings, but we do not live your life for you, nor shall we fight your battles for you!
"I'm sorry," Frey said quickly. "I just wanted to understand."
If you want to understand more than you do now, I suggest you begin with she who loves you, Alexander said gravely. And to do that, I believe you can no longer rely on your own limited abilities. You need help. Help that only I can give you. Frey Amethyst, young mortal, son of Alexandria, I shall give you my blessings! In his mind's eye, Frey saw Alexander himself. The mighty winged castle floated on an endless cloud far beyond the mortal realm. He stretched his wings, so beautiful and terrible, and the sword began to vibrate. The holy water glowed brighter and brighter, until all in the room had to squeeze their eyes shut. It is done, Alexander said. Fare thee well, young one. I shall see you again on the day of your judgment. Alexander's presence faded, and the light in the room went along with it. Once again, the two torches were to only thing keeping the place from complete darkness.
"It is done," Gizamaluke said solemnly. "Step forward, Alexandrian. Take up your sword." Frey stepped forward to do so, but stopped almost immediately and stared. The sword had changed! The blade, which had long since become pitted and the sheen dulled by years of rough treatment, now looked almost pure white! The runes and sigils painted on by the priests had become etched into the blade, as though they had always been there! Moreover, the entire sword almost seemed to glow with an inner light. It looked more like...more like...more like...
"More like what I wanted to make," he whispered. He strode forward and reached for the hilt. His hand trembled as her did so. He tried to calm himself, but failed. As he took hold of the handle, he felt a sudden shock run up and down his spine. He gasped as he heart beat faster and faster, until it felt like it were ready to burst. He fell back onto one knee, breathing rapidly and staring at the blade in shock. He had long since become used to carrying it, but now it felt almost weightless! It no longer felt like a weapon he held, but a part of him, a part that he'd been missing his entire life and had only now found.
"What is its name?" Gizamaluke asked.
Frey tried to reply, but found himself unable. Tears of joy began to roll down his face. "I...I-"
"Do not try to answer me," Gizamaluke said calmly. "Let your thoughts flow like the water of my grotto. Say only what you feel you must."
Frey's body heaved as he gasped for breath. In the back of his mind, he thought he heard a humming noise, as though the sword were singing to him. This sword was a part of his life. It had been his salvation during many battles that would have left him dead. It had been the salvation for Daren and Serena when the Festival of the Hunt had gone terribly wrong. It had again been their salvation when Allen and his vices had attacked the envoy. If all went as he hoped, it would be-
"Salvation!" he blurted breathlessly. "Her name is Salvation!"
------------------------
Her eyes met his from far down the hallway. For a long moment, they both stopped in their tracks in fear. Then, he suddenly strode rapidly forward towards her, a desperate longing in her eyes. She took a step back in uncertainty, almost ready to deny him for his earlier actions, but before she could, his arms were around her, crushing her against him in a fierce hug. He pressed his face into her neck and kissed her once, twice, a third time. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry for what I did," he said in a rush. "Please forgive me, Serena, please."
Her arms found their way around him as well. "Frey," she said. "Frey, I love you."
"I love you too, Serena, I love you so much, I can't think of anything else. I was foolish. I never meant to hurt you, ever."
"I know," she said, her voice threatening to break. "I know you didn't."
"Serena, listen. When this is all over, we'll find a way, I promise." He tightened his hold even further. "I want to be with you for as long as we live, and I want you to be with me."
She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt tears welling up in them. "Thank you," she said tightly. "Thank you, Frey." He loosed his hold on her, but only enough so that he could look her in the face and kiss her. Moments passed and turned into minutes. A polite cough made them both open their eyes and release each other. A very embarrassed Daren stood a few paces behind Serena, eyes on them for a moment, then darting away again.
"We need to leave," he said matter-of-factly. "The sun just set."
Frey's hand found Serena's and squeezed. "Ready?" he asked.
She looked at him blankly, then slowly smiled and squeezed back. "I'm ready for anything, now."
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
She shrugged helplessly. "It's the only way. Either you climb it or you don't."
"That's a lot of help." Frey looked up. The air well, a thin, circular tube shot straight up from where they were standing. The end of it was a tiny prick of reddish moonlight that looked miles distant. And the only way up was a knotted rope of vines. "Gizamaluke was right. This is nuts."
Daren piped up. "Maybe Frey should go last. Then he won't knock either of us off when he falls."
"Very funny, Daren," Serena said crossly. She stepped forward, squeezed Frey's arm, and whispered to him, "just keep looking up. I'll be right behind you."
"Below me, you mean," he said. He sighed. "All right, let's get this over with." He cracked his knuckles and grabbed hold of the rope. The vines were old and dry, but strong, providing a good grip. He pulled himself up and pressed his thighs together, already beginning to rise.
Serena looked back at Minister Golde, who stood a few feet away. "Best of luck to you, Minister," she said.
He blinked slowly. "Best of luck to you, Miss Crescent. Everything is riding on this."
She nodded. "I won't let you down." With that, she turned, judged a distance, and leaped upwards. Long, slender fingers closed around the vine just below Frey's boots and clawed feet swung forward to dig into the rock wall.
Daren double-checked his cloak and lance to ensure that both were secure, and then took one final look around. He looked up at the air well. To tell the truth, he was as unenthusiastic about this as Frey. But, like before, the stoic Burmecian soaked up his trepidation instead of broadcasting it. He took a deep breath. Then another. Then he caught himself stalling and grimaced. "You can't control the outcome if you can't control yourself," he muttered. Then, he followed Serena and Frey upwards into the abyss.
---------------------
Frey's muscles burned. The air well had narrowed and he felt a constant breeze rushing up from below, which helped a bit. Below him, he heard the foot claws of the two Burmecians as they scraped the rock. Serena and Daren were luckier than he, as their claws could find natural footholds in the rock wall that his boots couldn't. This proved crucial when, a few moments later, he misplaced his leg and lost his grip. He yelped and tried to hold on with his hands alone, but the vine slipped out of his fingers. Fortunately, Serena reacted quickly enough to brace her legs against the wall, let go of the vine, and straighten her body. Her back pressed against the opposite side of the well and she caught Frey before he fell more than a few feet. His added weight nearly caused her to fall as well, but Daren's arm shot out and pressed against her lower back, securely holding all of them.
"Gotcha," Serena whispered.
"Nice catch," he said. He took a moment to slow his breathing, then leaned forward in her arms and took hold of the vine again. "Let's try this again, shall we?"
---------------------
Serena let her mind detach itself from her body, ignoring the sight of her hands endlessly gripping the vine, letting go, and gripping it again. Fortunately, she retained enough control that, when Frey suddenly stopped, she managed to avoid crashing into him. She looked up at him. "What's wrong?"
She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine the confused expression on it from the tone of his voice when he spoke. "Do you hear anything?"
She narrowed her eyes and concentrated. "No, what am I listening for?"
A pause. "I don't know. I thought I heard something."
She listened for another moment, then dismissed it. Letting go with one hand, she reached up and gently patted Frey's leg. "Come on, let's keep going."
"Right."
--------------------------
After another twenty minutes or so, Frey stopped again. Daren looked up in mild annoyance. "What?"
"I swear, I heard something."
Daren's eyes narrowed. "I'm nervous enough about this, Frey," he said. "Knock it off."
"I'm serious, I heard a humming noise."
"I don't hear anything," Serena insisted.
"Come on, Frey, if there was anything to hear, do you really think you'd hear it and we wouldn't?" Daren asked.
"Guess not," Frey grunted.
------------------------
It was only five minutes later that he heard it again. Humming. Whispering. Frey squeezed his eyes shut as he continued his rhythm. I'm losing my mind, he thought. Unable to help himself, he stopped again. "Frey, we have to keep moving!" Daren said.
"What's wrong, Frey?" Serena asked, her voice concerned.
"I hear voices, dammit!" he yelled. Below him, Serena blinked rapidly and pulled away.
"Voices? What are they saying?"
"I don't know! I can't make it out!" He let go with one hand and pounded on the rock wall.
Daren noticed another problem. "Frey, watch out, your sword is coming loose!"
Instinctively, his free hand went to the hilt and pushed his sword - Salvation - back into the sheath. As he did so, he froze. His eyes shot open.
Quiet. Silence. He suddenly understood.
"Salvation..." he whispered. "You sensed my anxiety and wanted to help." She answered silently, gently affirming his thoughts.
"What?" Serena asked. "Frey, you're not making any sense."
Gizamaluke shrugged as best as he was able. "She is the way she is. Some spirits are genderless, some male, and some female. Try a few cuts."
Frey brought the sword - Salvation - forward, gripping its - her - hilt in both hands. He started with a left-to-right descending diagonal cut, followed it up with a hip-to-shoulder vertical. He paused, then slashed right-to-left, the tip descending to below his waistline. He paused again, then moved through a series of thrusts and slashes at lightning speed. His right hand left the hilt and he let go with his left, using his palm to push the handle forward and letting the sword's momentum take it backwards. He spun Salvation vertically three times, then caught her and whirled into a reverse-handed forward slash. He froze, not even breathing hard. Every move had been fluid, as though he'd rehearsed it a dozen times. The sword - Salvation - seemed to gently thrum in his hand, as if it - she - was pleased. "Wow," he breathed.
"She is a part of you now," Gizamaluke said. "No more do you hold an implement, a simple work of iron. She is a part of you now, as vital as your heart, your lungs, or your eyes. Try putting her back in the sheath."
Frey idly wondered why Gizamaluke wanted him to do that. The grotto's master chuckled. "You don't want do, you do?"
He blinked in surprise. "No."
"Of course you don't. It would be like asking a partner to stay out of your life. You can't simply treat her as a tool any longer. Think of her as an equal, a kindred spirit. Now, try again."
Frey gently positioned Salvation in front of the sheath. "There's no danger," he whispered. "Will you...stay put for a while?" She affirmed his question and he slowly slid her back into the sheath. On impulse, he gently tapped the pommel once or twice, reassuring her that he wouldn't forget about her. She returned a grateful feeling.
"Is all well?" Gizamaluke asked.
Frey was silent. Gizamaluke had compared putting Salvation away to asking a partner to stay away. Frey had done exactly that to Serena. He kept a hand on Salvation's handle, trying to divine what his course of action needed to be. Then, he realized that he already knew. He looked up at Gizamaluke. "Not yet," he said. "But it will be." With that, he bowed quickly and walked out of the chamber. A dragon's mirthful laughter followed him.
------------------------
With what seemed like his last ounce of strength, Frey flung an arm up over the lip of the air well and hauled himself out. He immediately fell forward onto the grass that surrounded the small rock wall. Looking up at the sky, he could see both of Gaia's moons, each now starting to wane. Serena was next, leaping out of the dark hole with a burst of energy. "Finally," he sighed.
Daren climbed out in a more sedate fashion and stood on the lip of the well. "Not too tough," he declared.
"I really ought to shove you back in for that," Frey said. "But I'll wait until I can feel my arms again."
Daren sat down on the rocks, unconcerned. "Let's take a break."
Serena nodded. "A quick one."
Frey remained facedown on the ground. "Sounds good." Serena took out a canteen and Frey sat up. "You know, that's a good idea." He found his own pouch on his belt and took a sip. "Well wouldn't you know," he said. "This won't be too hard after all."
"What?" Daren asked.
Frey pointed to the south. The others followed his gesture, down the long, sloping plain covered in grass and dotted with trees, past the edge of the plateau, over the thick cover of Mist, to see what looked like a faint yellow light. "Lindblum," Frey said.
"Doesn't look so big now," Daren commented.
Salvation trembled in her sheath.
Before he even realized it, Frey had leaped to his feet and was ready to draw her. He quickly looked all around, seeing nothing but dark crags and darker trees. "What? What is it?" Serena said.
Daren's hand went to his lance. "What?" He looked up. "A dragon?"
"I don't know."
Serena chewed her lip. "Maybe we should get moving."
"Yeah," Frey replied. "I don't feel like standing around now."
-------------------------
Gizamaluke had returned to the main cavern and was speaking with Minister Golde when he suddenly bellowed and fell into the water. He reappeared almost as quickly as he had vanished, thrashing wildly and roaring. "Master Gizamaluke!" Raiken shouted, but his lord ignored him. The priest looked about frantically, but could see no cause for Gizamaluke's agony. The others looked to him, but he spread his hands and shook his head.
Finally, Gizamaluke's head came to rest on the shore of the granite walkway. Those present tried to cluster around him, but Raiken saw that his lord needed air and shouted for them to keep their distance. He knelt beside Gizamaluke and laid a hand on his scaled brow, offering his strength. "What is wrong, master?" he asked.
"He has...touched me," Gizamaluke rasped. The dragon squeezed his eyes shut. "Such...darkness...the likes of which I have never seen."
"Are you well now?" Raiken asked nervously. If an enemy could lacerate Master Gizamaluke so thoroughly, Raiken knew he would have no chance.
"Well enough...but he knows...about them..."
"What do you mean?" Golde said frantically.
"I feel his arrogance...he is moving...to stop us." Gizamaluke shook his head and lifted himself off of the rock. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. "They're in danger!" he said, as if he had reached some kind of horrifying conclusion. "He'll chase them, bring them down, starve us out...Raiken!" he bellowed.
"Y-yes?"
"Look after the grotto while I am gone! You know what you must do!" With that, Gizamaluke spun in midair and dove headfirst into the water.
"Where's he going? What's he doing?" Golde shouted.
Raiken turned, feeling faint. "Master Gizamaluke is joining the battle, it seems," he said.
"What was he talking about?"
Raiken swallowed. "I can only assume that he means Allen has found..."
-----------------------
Frey, Serena, and Daren ran across the plateau at top speed, the human struggling to keep up with the two Burmecians. From above, they looked like nothing more than three shadows flitting across the ground. At some point, Frey had unconsciously drawn Salvation and now carried her in his left hand. The runes that were now permanently etched onto the flat of her blade glowed dimly in the darkness, warning of some kind of danger.
Up ahead, Frey realized he could see the ground start to level out, then start to curve uphill before stopping abruptly and shooting straight down into the Mist. The land around him became broken, the trees fewer in number and smaller in size. Dirt and rocks populated the edge of the plateau instead of grass and shrubbery. All of a sudden, they were heading uphill, through a jagged path of rock towards a rise. All around him, jagged rocks the size of human beings pointed at the sky like accusing fingers. Boulders and loose rock were everywhere, and there were no longer trees of any kind. "A dragon must have roughed this place up some time ago," Daren commented.
Finally, they reached the top of the rise and looked down at the Mist-covered plains that separated them from Lindblum. The drop was steep, but not completely vertical, and it was broken in many places, which would make the descent much easier than trying to climb down a smooth rock face. "Look," Serena said. "That's a fairly gradual drop. We could start our climb there."
"You no longer need to concern yourselves with that," said a voice that set Frey's teeth on edge. The three spun to see a black figure standing atop a nearby column of rock. It was Wedge Bastion, dressed in his cloak and armor, dark sword out and in his hand. "You now have much more to worry about."
Frey took a step towards the jagged edge of the rise so that only the gulf separated him from Wedge and brandished his sword. "Why don't you come over here and say that?" he taunted.
"Make it easy on yourselves and just let us end your lives!" came the ragged voice of Biggs Chandrenos. He stood on the same rise as they did, on the opposite side from Wedge. He began to advance, but Daren quickly stepped towards him, lance at the ready.
"One more step and you're in for a world of pain," he threatened. Biggs sneered, but did not come any closer.
Serena looked back and forth. "I see the left and right hands," she said aloud. "Now, where's the head?"
"Very good," said the voice of Allen Olivera as he stepped out onto the path they had used to climb the rise. Frey realized that between the drop and the three renegades, they were boxed in. He glanced at the sky, wondering if fate would throw in a dragon just to make it that much harder.
Serena gently unslung her lance and held it in a rigid defensive posture. "I guess we all know what happens next," she said.
Allen reached down and drew his sword. "Indeed we do."
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Why'd ya leave the cliffhanger just before the fight!
Now we have to bug you and bug you until you write the next one!
Nitram, slightly high on cough syrup: Do you know you're beautiful?
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Excellent work. I love how you chose to end this chapter.
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
Wedge snorted. "Because you're the only one he can call that and get away with it." He reached out and ruffled Daren's hair. "What's new, kiddo?"
"How come you keep growing your hair, Wedge?" the youngster said. "My mom says everyone's going to think you're a girl."
"He is a girl."
"Shut up, Biggs. I like it long."
"Hey, don't act mad at me. You're just annoyed that Allen's got a girlfriend and you don't."
"Oh, like you're not."
"Yeah, well you can be mine. You've got the hair for it."
Wedge rolled his eyes. "Hey Daren, you want to be important when you grow up?"
Daren shrugged. "I dunno. I guess so."
"Then don't listen to a word this loser says."
Biggs snickered. "Mister high and mighty himself. I don't see you hanging out with anyone else."
"I know, I've gotta shake this inferiority complex."
"Huh?"
"Nothing, Daren."
"Quit talking over my head."
Wedge held his palm against the top of Daren's head. "Can't help it, kiddo."
"Yeah, well, someday I'm gonna be as big as you!"
"Good, then you'll have friends of your own to bug."
"Daren, are you bothering Biggs and Wedge again?" They all turned to see Allen.
Biggs waved it off. "Nah, we're just talking."
"Wedge is gonna be Biggs' girlfriend!"
"Hey!"
"Did I miss something important?"
"Just your little brother bothering us," Wedge said. He planted a hand on Daren's back and gave him a boost to start walking. "Scram, kiddo."
"But I wanna-"
"Scoot, Daren," Allen said firmly. "I'll see you tonight. Tell mom I'll be home for dinner."
"Okay." Daren watched the three of them turn to walk away. "Hey, Biggs?"
"Yeah?"
"If someone was really making you mad, what would you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like a bully."
Biggs grinned and held up a fist. "I'd stand up for myself and put him in his place. Tell you one thing, shrimp, bullies are cowards. Just be tough and you'll be fine."
"Okay, I got it!"
Allen frowned. "Is someone pushing you around, Daren?"
Biggs tugged at his friend's sleeve. "Let him be, Allen."
"No, really-"
"Come on, I'm serious! Let the kid go!" Biggs led Allen down the street. As he did so, he glanced back and gave Daren a surreptitious thumbs-up. Daren eagerly returned it, then spun and ran off the other way. He'd show that jerk Joachin how tough he was. Just like how Biggs told him.
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Biggs held his sword in a fourth-form attack stance. Naturally. Biggs was entirely too aggressive to pick a more balanced option. Daren studied him, noting openings at his flank and his shoulder that his longer lance could exploit. The armor Biggs wore seemed to smolder in the moonlight, clinging to him like an extra set of skin, and Daren had to wonder if he could even get through something like that.
"You know, you could always join us, you know," Biggs suddenly said.
"Dek'tha," Daren spat. The last time he'd strung those two syllables together, his mother had slapped him across the face, and his mother was a very tolerant woman.
Biggs' eyebrows rose and the uneven smile returned to his face. "Guess so, I suppose. Just figured I'd toss that out there."
Daren shook his head. "You're disgusting."
"Am I?" He giggled. "Maybe you're the disgusting one and you just don't know it, maybe that's the way it is."
"Enough!" Daren snapped. He reminded himself that this was no longer the Biggs he'd known when he was growing up. This was some shadow, a copy, a dark and twisted version that didn't have the right to exist. He thought once more of the true Biggs, the over-the-top, energetic, humorous, and well-meaning miscreant who always managed to cause just a bit less trouble than what he was worth.
The distant sadness must have shown on his face, because Biggs suddenly leaned forward and spoke. "Hey, you falling asleep or what?"
"Biggs."
He chuckled. "That's m'name kiddo," he said, flicking a few tangled strands of hair out of his eyes.
"My mother always said you were heading for one of two places, the Dragon Knights or a jail cell."
Biggs threw his head back and laughed, then suddenly cut himself off before the reaction could play itself out fully. "Bet she never saw this coming."
"No, I bet she didn't."
Biggs casually spun his sword around his hand and caught it. "So, are we finished, can we get to it now?"
Daren looked him in the eyes. "Yes, Biggs," he said. "We are."
Biggs sneered. "You feel sorry for me, don't you?" He spread his arms. "Well, come on, kid. Hit me with the best you've got."
Daren shook his head. "I feel sorry for who you were." A cold mist began to congeal around his palm. "I'm sorry, Biggs. I'll make it quick." He drew himself up and the freezing cold became rapidly more pronounced, then thrust his palm forward. A shimmering veil of ice leapt from his palm and flew straight towards Biggs, but even as it did so, Biggs pulled one hand back. As he did, a bright orange-yellow light burst into being around his palm. He through his arm out, mimicking Daren's movements, and a powerful tongue of flame erupted from his hand. The fire raced towards the ice. The fire met the ice. The fire exceeded the ice. Daren suddenly found himself staring at a pillar of flames that were rushing straight towards him. He leapt aside and let the blast pass by harmlessly. Instead, it finally met the ground, blackening and melting rock.
"Now now now," Biggs chided. "I never said that I'd just let you kill me, did I? No, I didn't."
"Where did you learn black magic?" Daren asked, shocked.
"Oh, here and there, every now and then. You know how it is." He winked. "Care to try again, hmmm?"
Daren leaped forward, lance driving towards Biggs' heart.
-----------------------
Serena swung her lance into a defensive position and blocked Allen's overhead blow, but she didn't count of him suddenly twisting the blade. Her lance nearly jerked out of her hands, and she had to fight to hold on. He took advantage of her distraction, kicking her in the stomach. White-hot blades of pain shot through her as his claws cut through her skin with ease. He pushed off and regrouped a few feet away. She thrust at his legs, but he was a hair faster, spinning to the side. He used his momentum to leap forward and plant on foot on her outstretched arm. Before she could react, he leaned down, moving like lightning, and drew a short dagger from a hip sheath she hadn't even noticed. With almost contemptuous ease, he plunged it into her lower arm. She yelped and let go of the lance.
He backed off and she rose, clutching at her arm and attempting to staunch the flow of blood. "Bastard," she spat. "You were toying with me last time."
"Of course I was," he said, his face neutral. He stepped in, feinted with the dagger, and slammed his knee into her midsection, right into her torn skin. Sparks erupted in front of her eyes and Serena felt herself sway. She tried to gather herself, but a vicious blow knocked her backwards. She landed on her tail and felt tendons scream in protest. Allen's hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked, flipping her over onto her front. His knee suddenly pressed itself into her back, pinning her. One hand grabbed her chin and forced her head up, while the other held the dagger at her neck. If he so much as twitched, he could slice her throat open.
"Now then," he said, mockery in his voice. "Let's enjoy the evening's entertainment, shall we?" Serena's eyes went straight to Frey.
---------------------------
Wedge hadn't moved from the pillar he stood upon. "Well," Frey asked. "Are you going to come over here or do I have to blast you out?" Wedge smirked and launched himself, his leap high even for a Burmecian. Frey rolled to the side as he came down and stood just it time to block the sweep of his sword. The traitor knight came at him, moving with a speed and fluidity that Frey could barely match, even with Salvation helping him. The rapid-fire series of blows ended with them facing each other, neither holding an advantage.
"Very good, for a know-nothing from nowhere," Wedge taunted.
"Save your breath," Frey said. "You'll be needing it to beg for mercy pretty soon."
"Strong words!" Wedge spat. He set himself and swung, but had made a critical error in assuming that his opponent would meet the blow. Instead, Frey let all the strength go out of his legs and dropped to his knees, already swinging. Salvation struck Wedge's armor at his midsection. To the surprise of both warriors, there was a sudden flash of light and Wedge was violently thrown through the air, crashing to the ground a good ten feet away. He got to his feet, glaring furiously. Where Salvation had touched him, his armor glowed red-hot. "So," he snarled. "You consecrated it. A smart move, I'll give you that. But it won't be enough to save you."
"We'll see," Frey said. The two came together, swords meeting above their heads. Frey kicked out, catching Wedge on the thigh and driving him back. Wedge retaliated by leaping into a whirling slash that know human could have duplicated. The move forced Frey back, away from his opponent.
And right towards the edge of the plateau.
-------------------------
Serena started to call out to Frey, but Allen brutally squeezed his hand and closed her throat. Just before Serena was ready to pass out, he relaxed his hand again. "Not so fast," he said. "You're strictly an observer now." Serena watched Frey and Wedge dual at the top of the cliff. Biggs and Daren were out of sight, but bright flashes of blue, orange, and white light was testament to the amount of magic being thrown around. Suddenly, her train of thought was broken as she felt Allen nuzzle the crown of her head. "How I missed the feel of your hair," he said softly.
She shuddered. "Stop it."
The dagger pressed against her neck. "And what makes you think you have any power over what I do?" he snarled. "I could cut your throat at any moment of my choosing."
"Then do it and have done with it," she challenged.
He was silent for a moment, then laughed. "You seem to be misunderstanding the situation, Serena. I hold all the power here. You can goad, you can plead, you can say anything that comes into your foolish little head, but you can't make me do a single thing." He turned the dagger slightly and Serena felt blood suddenly run down her neck as the blade pricked her skin. Daren leaned in closer. "Wedge and Biggs are going to kill your companions," he whispered silkily. "Then, I'm going to cut your throat. Then we're going to take care of anyone in the grotto. And there is nothing, nothing, that you can do to stop us."
--------------------------------
The aqueduct was a tight fit for Gizamaluke's massive frame, but it was just wide enough to accommodate him. He glided through it at blistering speed, the water rushing by in the opposite direction just below him. The stone tunnel ended, opening up into a river on the north side of the Aeribs Mountains. Gizamaluke turned upwards. Ahead of him, he could see the torches of the bandit army that had blockaded his grotto. He ran a quick estimate and decided that there was somewhere between fifty and eighty creatures altogether. Serpions thrashed at the end of their sturdy chains. Vice chieftains led their followers in song. Huge lizardmen clustered together, speaking in their harsh, grunting language.
Without the accursed Allen, this force would fall apart in seconds. But as long as he led them, both they and their counterparts to the south could easily smash the small group inside the grotto and claim the dark power there. Gizamaluke decided that they needed to see a bit of what awaited them. He stretched his wings and soared towards them. The vices were too drunk from their typical evening revelry to notice, but one of the lizardmen shouted an alarm. Gizamaluke halted himself just above one large knot of the vices and bellowed furiously. Shrieking, the group immediately fell to pieces as the creatures panicked at the fearsome sight. Gizamaluke swung his tail, the massive weight on the end connecting solidly and smashing a vice's ribcage in. He clapped his wings and furious white light blazed from them, blinding the vices and increasing their panic.
That was when one of the lizardmen stepped forward and hurled one of his cleavers. The weapon struck Gizamaluke in his chest and bounced off, no match for the thick scales. However, the act was enough to rally some of the more sober vices, their morale rebounding at the sight of the brazen attack. A vice chieftain stepped forward, raising his magic staff, and Gizamaluke decided that he had bitten off a little too much. He spun in midair as a magical blast zipped towards him and headed back towards the mountains. More blasts of energy and a few stray arrows followed him, none coming even close to actually striking.
Gizamaluke rose higher and higher, now heading for his true destination: the veil of darkness where he knew he would find Allen and the others. It was subtle, a masterpiece of sorcery. Had Allen not used a similar spell to enclose the grotto and cut Gizamaluke off from the rest of the world, he would not have even known how to feel for it. Gizamaluke flew into the mountains themselves, their mighty peaks rising to either side of him. Blue and red light from the twin moons shone down on him, illuminating the world and making it child's play to navigate the area. He had traveled through here more than once when he was younger and on darker nights than this, though he hadn't done so in quite awhile.
That was when the moonlight abruptly changed. A shadow passed between Gizamaluke and the red moon. He rolled and put his belly to the sky, but saw no clouds. Instead, he saw an indistinct shape, colored green, and getting larger. Its sides seemed to move up and down. "No!" he hissed. Why now, of all the times to meet a Grand Dragon?
"You there!" the dragon thundered. From his voice, Gizamaluke could tell that the dragon was a juvenile, thirty or forty years old at the most. Strong. Arrogant. Impetuous. A very dangerous combination. "You are trespassing on the territory of our flight!"
Gizamaluke broke from his course and faced down the dragon. "Listen to me!" he said quickly. "I do not do this by choice! I-"
"Then go back and do not come this way!" the young dragon snarled. "Otherwise, I will separate your head from your shoulders!"
Gizamaluke bit back a curse. The juvenile was itching for a fight. Just the last thing he needed. "I do not have time to explain this to you!" he shouted. "But many lives are depending on my getting through your territory! Accompany me if you wish, but I must get through!"
"I care not for your dramatics!" the dragon snapped, ignoring him completely. "Turn back or I shall deal with you myself!"
Gizamaluke snarled. "I'm giving you one last chance! Either you let me through willingly, or else I'll go right through you!"
The dragon roared and jets of flame shot from his nostrils. "You defy a Grand Dragon?" he shrieked in rage. "I shall make you pay for your impetuous words in blood!" The dragon spread his wings and charged. Knowing he had no other choice, Gizamaluke shot forward to meet him.
