StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Very cool battle sequences.

Yes, indeedy. Now keep it coming.

I like the fact that Allen has lapses where he remembers how much he loved (loves?) Serena. Makes him an excellent character.

And to ellaborate on the section at the beginning of this chapter, I thought it was wonderful. It humanized (even though they aren't human, I know) the villians, like the difference between the Green Goblin from Spiderman compared to Doc Ock in Spiderman 2; no one's pure evil, or pure good. Seeing those characters as kids reminds you that these evil guys came from somewhere, that they were once normal kids like everyone else.

It's really very, very well-written.

**bumps**

Where's the next chapter, Kuja?

LadyTevar wrote:**bumps**

Where's the next chapter, Kuja?

If you're going to keep harassing him about it, you should at least appeal to his ego somewhat and tell him the stuff you like about his story.

I've got one page's worth.

Well, I got some inspiration. And I need to give Zaia a huge honorable mention for providing the idea for one of the major points in this one. Thanks.



Chapter 23: The Thick of the Fight


Theirs was the battle of two swordsmen in the prime of their lives. Wedge's fighting style was Burmecian to the core; he leaped and filled the air with strikes that threatened the head and neck of an opponent who could not match his ability. Frey's experience was the only thing keeping him in the fight. Having watched Serena for five years, and having fought against her in more than one mock battle, he knew enough to counter Wedge's style. Whenever the ex-knight leapt, he threw himself down and shoulder-rolled away, occasionally coming up quickly enough to take a swipe at his enemy's unprotected legs. Wedge scowled as he realized that he needed to adjust his strategy. He landed, spun, and came at Frey with his flank leading, sword ready to deliver a strike. Frey gave a few steps, then lashed out. Wedge brought his sword up to block, but Frey twisted his body, kicked his leg out to get momentum, and landed a blow on Wedge's midsection. Once again, Salvation's etchings blazed the moment she touched the accursed armor and Wedge was thrown into the air. This time, he curled into a ball and managed to land on his feet.

Frey glanced down at the sword. "How am I supposed to get through that armor if you keep knocking him around like that?" he muttered. She gave a mental shrug. Wedge began to gather himself, and Frey rushed him. Wedge took a sliding step back, brought his sword up, and blocked at the last second.

He grinned. "That's the same look Cage had on his face just before he died," he taunted.

"I told you to save your breath," Frey said evenly. They dropped apart and circled, watching for an opening.

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Theirs was the battle of two masters of the elements. Daren had always found the freezing cold to be the easiest to master. Perhaps it was because of his own way of thinking; his careful approach to life that so closely resembled the icy element. Perhaps it was because he favored the more focused blows it could deliver. But whatever reason still wasn't enough to help him now. Biggs' wild fire and lightning attacks battered down his own seemingly without effort. Daren couldn't imagine how Biggs had gotten so powerful without proper training. He ran like he'd never run before as white-hot lances blasted chunks of rock from the ground behind him. Wait for it, he thought. Another bolt struck the ground inches away. Wait for it. He threw his arm out and tossed off a weak spell to keep Biggs distracted for a moment. Biggs pointed at the onrushing point of light and launched another fireball straight at it. Daren skidded to a halt and leapt into the air. Below him, the two spells met and canceled each other out, vanishing in a point of white light.

When the light faded, Biggs realized that he'd lost track of Daren. Acting on instinct, he threw himself backwards just as Daren's lance swept through the spot where his head had been. Daren landed as Biggs rolled backwards and pulled his sword just in time to block a thrust. Daren crowded Biggs, forcing him back and using his longer weapon to keep him on the defensive. Biggs ducked and leaned forward under one powerful thrust, planted one hand on the ground, and chopped at Daren's legs. Daren spun and blocked it, then quickly raised his hand and issued another blast of cold air. Biggs somersaulted back and retaliated with another fireball. Daren dodged it, cursing his stupidity at letting the battle go back to magic, where Biggs held the clear advantage. If he was going to win this, he needed to keep things face-to-face, where he knew his lance would help him most.

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Theirs was the battle of two gargantuan masters of flight. Gizamaluke circled his opponent, knowing that there was no point in trying to make a break for it. If he did, the dragon would easily target him with a blast of fire or maybe worse. Instead, he needed to stand and fight, though that was no sure thing either. On the surface of it, the Grand Dragon held all the cards; he was younger than Gizamaluke, stronger, larger, more agile and dexterous, and possessed of batter natural weapons. In addition, he likely felt that his honor was at stake, and that besting Gizamaluke would better him in the eyes of the flight. Gizamaluke could see the arrogance in his eyes, and knew that he likely thought the battle was already won.

But Gizamaluke knew that he had several things going for him that the younger dragon didn't recognize. First, he was four hundred years old, and had fought numerous dragons in the past. He knew what he was facing, while his opponent really had no idea. Second, his sense of tactics was in no way dulled by bloodlust or any arrogant sense of superiority. Finally, and most important of all, he knew that he had to win. The consequences of failure were unthinkable.

So when the young dragon changed course and attack, Gizamaluke was ready. He spread his wings and let them catch the air, sailing out of the attack line with ease. When the dragon turned and came at him a second time, he twisted and swung his heavy tail, striking his opponent right on the jaw. The young dragon, unaccustomed to such heavy blows, lost some altitude while wildly flapping his wings in pain. When he finally caught himself, he bellowed with rage and swooped back upwards. Gizamaluke saw the back of his throat light up as he did.

Fine, then. Time to raise the stakes.

Gizamaluke made a hocking sound in the back of his throat as he constricted his muscles there. They closed until his airway was only one-quarter its normal size. Then he threw his head forward and screeched. Humans would have probably described the sound as "nails on a chalkboard" but to a dragon's sensitive tympanic membranes, it was pure agony. Gizamaluke's opponent roared and clamped his massive forepaws over the delicate areas. In his pain, he forgot to keep his wings going and began to fall. Knowing what he had to do but hating himself for it, Gizamaluke swooped down to finish the fight quickly. He didn't expect his enemy to put up any further defense.

So when the dragon suddenly pointed at him, Gizamaluke was caught totally by surprise. A blue spark leaped from the claw and struck Gizamaluke in the chest. The grotto master shrieked as blue bolts crawled across his body. He ceased his aggressive dive as his body ceased responding and simply jerked in agony. And when the pain finally faded, his enraged opponent promptly tackled him. With the wind knocked out of his lungs by the fierce blow, Gizamaluke was only dimly aware of being propelled towards the ground. All he was really conscious of was the fact that he had failed spectacularly.

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Theirs was the battle of two lovers turned against one another. Serena was forced to watch as the man she loved was pitted against an opponent who would think nothing of killing him right in front of her. She cheered silently as she watched Frey match Wedge time and again. She couldn't see Biggs and Daren from where she was, but flashes of light from behind a rise and an occasional fireball or lightning bolt indicated that Daren was holding his own as well. Her lance lay to her left, just a few inches out of reach, and she doubted she could do anything effective with her injured arm anyway. At her neck, the cold metal of Allen's dagger forced her to hold still, despite the pain emanating from her spine where he'd planted his knee.

"You know," Allen whispered to her, "it doesn't have to be this way."

"Go to hell," she spat.

"You're refusing something you don't even understand."

"I don't want to understand."

His face appeared at the edge of her vision. She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on Frey instead. "Do you have any idea of what I'm offering you, Serena?"

"Don't know, don't care," she taunted. "But you can go ahead and babble, since I know you're going to do it anyway."

The dagger moved slightly. "Watch your mouth, girl," he said evenly. "I said I'd let you live a little longer, but I don't have to."

"I'm not scared of you," she insisted.

"No, of course you're not," he said with false humor. "You just hate me, don't you? And you have no idea what you're turning down because of it."

"From here, it looks like a nightmare."

"What if I said that I could give you anything you asked of me? Wealth, fame, immortality?" She didn't respond, and he leaned closer. "Think of it Serena," he whispered silkily. "Eternal life. Eternal youth. Imagine it. You would be the queen of all the known world forever. Nothing would be beyond your reach. Thousands would worship the ground you walked upon. Burmecian and human alike would bow to you. Imagine it. Imagine it!"

Serena could, though she honestly couldn't say whether the vision that drifted up from her mind was planted there by Allen or of her own making. She saw a grand palace rising up from the center of Mist Continent, surrounded by a city that dwarfed anything she'd ever seen before. She saw thousands of people live and work, their lives prosperous and joyful. She saw representatives from all five cities: Treno, Alexandria, Lindblum, Burmecia, and even Cleyra - they had rejoined the world at last! She saw herself, more beautiful than ever, dressed in a wondrous white dress, pressing one hand to her heart and smiling, the very picture of noble humility as hundreds cheered her appearance. She saw Gizamaluke in his grotto, performing a Sealing before numerous overjoyed guests. She saw Daren and Biggs, no longer enemies but friends again, strolling through the grounds of the castle one sunny morning and laughing heartily. She saw Frey, dressed better than ever and his usual smile on his face as he bowed handsomely before her, his eyes never leaving hers. She saw-

She saw the real Frey throw himself into the fight, blocking a furious attack by Wedge. She saw him dodge back from a swipe and give ground as his opponent snarled furiously. She saw Wedge-

She saw Wedge standing in the midst of a gaggle of the court's ladies, telling wild stories as they listened in rapt attention. She saw herself again in a massive library, reading some story of adventure and smiling delicately. She saw a massive dining table attended by dozens of servants and populated by numerous guests. She saw a massive fire in a gigantic fireplace. She saw-

She saw a massive fire shoot up into the sky and explode. She saw lightning bolts and freezing gusts of wind. She saw bright lights as more spells were exchanged. She saw-

She saw Burmecia bereft of its plague of eternal storms. She saw Alexandria modernized and prosperous. She saw Treno freed from the heel of its oppressive upper classes. She saw Allen speaking to some dignitary before she caught his eye and made him smile. She saw Allen standing on the balcony of their room as the festival of a new year was celebrated in the streets below. She-

She heard Allen whisper to her. "It can all be yours," he said gently. "All you can imagine, and more, if you just give the word."

She was silent as the visions crossed before her eyes, overlapping with the sight of the true world before her. Her hands trembled, and she knew that she was tempted by the promise, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. She finally spoke.

"Let me up," she said.

-------------------------------

Frey put his foot down wrong and felt his right leg buckle. He turned the awkward move into an advantage, coming down on one knee and holding a defensive position as he and Wedge traded blows. Wedge thrust and Frey leaned to the left, then grabbed his opponent's wrist and pulled himself up, using his momentum to head butt Wedge in the face. His forehead crashed into Wedge's muzzle and staggered him, knocking him back a few inches. Wedge didn't lose his head though, and hopped back to keep Frey from exploiting the momentary advantage. They faced each other down, both breathing hard. "Better than I thought," Wedge said. "I'll give you that much." Frey stayed silent, waiting for his opponent to move first. To his surprise, Wedge suddenly looked to the left over Frey's shoulder and straightened, dropping his guard as he did so. A sudden smile appeared on his features. "Looks like you've lost the fight already, Frey Amethyst," he said victoriously.

Wary of a trap, Frey cautiously looked back over his shoulder - and instantly forgot all about Wedge. He saw Allen helping Serena to her feet, gently wrapping one arm around her waist as he did so. Serena's mouth moved as she said something, then she smiled. Frey couldn't believe his eyes. He turned. "Serena, don't!" he shouted. She ignored him. He stood rooted to the spot, only able to watch what happened next.

-------------------------

"Allen," she said longingly. "I won't deny I that I missed you so very, very much while I was gone."

His dark eyes locked onto hers and he smiled reassuringly. "I missed you as well, Serena. But no more. The missing is over now, beloved. Time to be together again."

She smiled. "Yes. It is."

"Serena, don't!" she heard Frey shout. She dismissed it and leaned towards Allen, eyes sliding closed as she did so.

-----------------------

"No," he mumbled unconsciously. "No, no, no, no, no, no..." He felt his heart slowly slide into his stomach as he watched Serena draw closer to Allen. He wanted to look away, to deny what was happening, but it felt like his eyes were fixed to the spot. He felt his jaw drop away as Serena looked up towards Allen...and she kissed him! "NO!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Behind him, he heard mocking laughter.

-----------------------

"NO!" she heard Frey shout, and she felt something inside twist with guilt. She pressed on, reached up to Allen's face with her uninjured hand and gently brushing away a lock of hair. He pulled her closer, savoring the long-awaited feel of her against him once again. Her hand caressed the side of his face-

-and she suddenly pulled it down, her claws tearing three long gouges into his flesh! Allen howled and involuntarily pushed her away, one hand going to his injuries as he fell to a crouch.

----------------------

A silly grin spread across Frey's features and he released the breath he'd been holding. "Good girl, Serena," he whispered.

----------------------

Serena leapt away from Allen towards her lance. Ignoring the pain, she picked the weapon up with her injured hand and fished around for a potion with her other. She found one and dumped it onto her arm, then using the rest on her stomach, discarding the vial once it was empty. She turned back to Allen just as he stood, his face the very picture of rage. He pulled his hand away and looked at the blood on his palm. Blood ran from the three fine lines she'd put into the left side of his face, and she gave a mental snort. He should have been counting himself lucky that she hadn't torn one of his eyes out.

She pictured her vision, the beauty, the peace, the happiness, and compared it to what stood in front of her: the twisted features, the black sword, the accursed armor, the eyes clouded by hate. The comparison was obscene. "I'll be damned if I believe a word you say, Allen Olivera," she said.

"You'll be damned anyway, you witch, you bloodsucking, conniving witch!" He pulled his sword. "I'll see to it personally!" Something to the side caught his eyes and he turned. "What are you looking at?" he snarled furiously. "Kill the bastard!"

------------------------

Allen's words snapped Frey back to reality and he twisted just in time to stop a blow from behind. "Not quite," he said to Wedge.

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Daren felt himself beginning to tire. Biggs' magic seemed limitless, and Daren was beginning to feel overwhelmed. His attempts to bring the combat back to the weapons was met with increasingly limited success. He shook himself, offered a quick prayer, and returned to the fray, hoping that whatever strength he had left would be enough.

-----------------------

Gizamaluke snapped out of his funk just in time. The ground rushed up at him and he beat his wings furiously, regaining control just before he smashed into the ground. High above, the dragon seemed to float effortlessly on the air. "Why do you prolong your suffering?" he asked. "You know I'm going to win."

"That," Gizamaluke said firmly, "has yet to be determined." He rose back up into the air to continue the battle.

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Frey was driven further and further back as Wedge attacked without respite. "I'm-going-to-enjoy-every-moment-of-killing-you," the renegade said between blows.

"Then shut up and do it," Frey snarled.

"Fine," Wedge replied. Then, moving with incredible speed, he ducked under Frey's next slash and swung his own sword. Frey felt both freezing cold and white-hot fire blossom at his midsection as Wedge's sword carved into him. His breath caught and he stumbled as the sword tip exited his body. It wasn't the deepest of blows, but it was enough to stagger him so that when Wedge brought the sword down on Salvation, Frey let her be knocked from his hand.

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By coincidence, Serena happened to be facing Frey when he was struck down. "Frey!" she shouted. She started to run for him, but seemingly out of nowhere, a jet-black rope reached out and coiled around her. She felt herself lifted off the ground, unable to move. The end of the thread was connected to - surprise - Allen's hand. He strode up and struck her in the face. "I'm going to make you watch this, whore," he snarled. He turned as Wedge grabbed Frey by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Frey tried to beat him off, but his fatigue from the fight had multipled with the injury, and when Wedge shook hum viciously, he stopped resisting.

"Where do you want him?" the lesser knight said with laughter.

Allen looked at Wedge, looked at Frey, looked at Serena, and looked at Wedge again. A cruel smile played across his lips. "Bring him here," he said. Wedge carried Frey close enough for Serena to see that the cut across his stomach would be fatal if it didn't get attended soon. Allen leaned towards Frey. "Can you hear me, worm?" he said maliciously. Frey growled in the back of his throat and tried to lift his arms, but that effort seemed too much for him. "You're going to die. Then Daren's going to die." He stepped closer. "Then, we're going to do all manner of unimaginable things to Serena. By the time we're finished, she's going to be broken in every was you can think of."

"...no..." Frey said weakly.

"Try and stop us," Allen said. He turned to Wedge and spoke bluntly. "Throw him over the side."

--------------------------

Frey felt Wedge carry him to the very edge of the cliff. The Burmecian looked down briefly and grimaced. "That sword of yours was quite a work," he said. "I'd take it with me if I didn't know that it would kill me at the first opportunity." He twitched, and Frey heard Salvation ring furiously as she was knocked over the edge. Wedge looked back up into Frey's eyes and his mocking grin returned. "You know, Serena was a popular girl when she was younger. Even I had a crush on her." He leaned closer. "I'm going to make sure she screams for mercy before I break her spirit."

"...bastard..." Frey whispered.

Wedge snickered. "You have no idea, Frey." He looked down again. "Oh well. Time to go join your sword."

Wedge threw Frey away, and time seemed to slow. He felt himself drop away, the cliff slowly rising in front of him to block out his view of Serena even as he dimly heard her shout his name. He felt his foot strike an outcropping and he spun in midair. He idly wondered how far he was going to fall.

It didn't matter. If the fall didn't kill him, the blow to his midsection would. He'd lost. Wedge was going to keep on killing. And Serena was going to be his next victim.

Frey felt his vision blur and go black.

Kuja wrote:Well, I got some inspiration. And I need to give Zaia a huge honorable mention for providing the idea for one of the major points in this one. Thanks.

Welcome.

It worked very well, I thought, and I especially liked the format you used. I must say that I'm a bit sad that Serena didn't hurt Allen more, but oh well. Maybe next time.

Oh, and:

Frey tried to beat him off, but his fatigue from the fight had multipled with the injury, and when Wedge shook hum viciously, he stopepd resisting.

Just in case this bothers you enough that you want to change it...

Damn!

Kuja, you are the master of cliff-hangers. Do I really have to tell you how you have me on the edge of my seat, reading this?

LadyTevar wrote:Damn!

Kuja, you are the master of cliff-hangers. Do I really have to tell you how you have me on the edge of my seat, reading this?

You don't have to, but his ego would thank you if it wasn't so preoccupied with preening itself at the moment.

Sorry Namesake fans (all 4 of you ) but I need to put this on hold for a bit. My comp is going to be in the shop for awhile longer than I anticipated due to certain issues, and although I put the story on disk, it turns out that the formatting is incompatable with the comps at school. I do have another disk that should work, but until or unless I get a chance to do a swap, the story is going to be in stasis. Thanks for your patience.

Who said we'd be patient?

Indeed...we shall have to employ the chains and whips...and strange dildo like objects.

Fine then, you animals.

Here's your reward for being impatient:


Chapter 24: Narrowing Chances


Daren had never known a level of exhaustion so deep before. With every spell, every bolt of lightning, every lick of fire, every breath of cold air, he could feel his strength being sapped. His arms felt like they were made of lead, and his lance almost seemed to be trying to pull itself from his grip. He had to keep moving because whenever he stopped, he could feel himself sway on his feet. As if that weren't bad enough, he felt like he'd been cut off from both Frey and Serena, unable to hear or see either of them. He was totally alone. Fighting alone. Maybe dying alone.

The only good news in a veritable sea of darkness was that he could tell Biggs was wearing out, too. The whiplash-quick Burmecian was no longer running circles around him, and Daren had managed to close the distance more than once. The trouble was, he was getting too tired to fight effectively enough when he did. Finally, the moment came when his leg buckled and he slid to one knee. His lance rang on the rocky ground. Ahead and to his right, Biggs came to a stop as well. To Daren's relief, he bent and put his hands on his knees to regain his wind rather than pressing the attack. The two faced each other, panting like recruits who'd just finished a rigorous training exercise.

"Biggs?" Daren said, his voice raspy.

The reply came in the form of a harsh, "what?"

"You and me. We were friends once, right?"

Biggs eyed him, still sucking air. "Yeah. So?"

"What happened? To all of you?"

"Why's it so important?"

Daren looked at Biggs for a long time. "I admired you when we were kids," he said. "I looked up to you for years, even after I became a Dragon Knight. I thought you were one of the greatest guys I knew. How could I not want to know?" he implored.

A smirk crawled up one side of Biggs' mouth. "You want the whole story?" He chuckled. "Fine."

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"Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!" Hawk's screams could barely be heard over the creature's bellowing. Like some nightmare straight from the pits of Hell, the massive beast towered over the injured Burmecian, ready to finish what the injury to his leg had started. Wedge dropped out of the sky and stuck his lance into the thing's back, but it howled and shook him off like an old overcoat. Wyvern came out of nowhere and stabbed at its arm, but the creature stuck its elbow out and caught him in the jaw, knocking him into the ground with ease. Hawk took advantage of its distraction, stabbing up into its chest. The beast reared in pain.

"Biggs, do it now!" Allen shouted. The two of them leapt from the rocks they'd been perched on and slashed at the exposed throat of the monstrosity. Biggs felt his lance's blade bite deeply into its flesh, then he was past it. Sticking his legs out, he rebounded off the rock he landed on and impaled the monster in the back, Allen mimicking him. Wedge's lance jammed itself into the thing's leg. In pain, it began to fall, and Hawk rolled out of the way just in time. Wyvern almost casually walked up to the thing and stabbed it in the side of the head. It whimpered once, then all the fight went out of it. The battle was over.

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"Damned if I know what that thing is," Wedge commented.

"Sure did a number on my leg," Hawk said as he carefully poured a concoction onto the wound. "I didn't even see it coming."

"None of us did," Wyvern said. "You're sure it's not broken?"

"I'm sure."

Allen was staring at the corpse, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Just what is it? Its wings look almost dragonish."

"It's no dragon, I can tell you that much," Biggs replied. "Take a look at the head." Biggs moved his hands as though he were running them over the skull. "No crest, no scales, and its got ears. It looks almost..." he hesitated. "...Burmecian."

Wyvern cursed as he helped his brother stand. "That can't be. Take a look at it!"

"I know, I know!" Biggs said.

"There's no such thing as a Burmecian eleven feet high with a black carapace, shining red eyes, spikes all over its body, wings..." Hawk finally trailed off.

"But," Wedge said softly, "if you took a Burmecian, changed him, maybe using some black-"

"I don't like that train of thought, mister," Allen said. Wedge fell silent. "Whatever this thing is, it's dead, end of the line. We're finished here, now let's go home."

"But Allen," Hawk said, "what if this thing's got a mate?"

"Or kids?" Wyvern added.

Allen scowled, but nodded. "We move on, then."

-----------------------

Biggs was the one who found the tomb. He called the others over and they gathered at the yawning entrance. "I have a really bad feeling about this," Wedge said. They collectively looked south, where they could see the spires of Burmecia at the foot of the mountains.

Allen took a deep breath. "In we go." Allen took point, with Biggs and Wedge flanking him and Hawk and Wyvern guarding their rear. The tomb was made of simple bricks of granite lining a square passage in. At the end of it was a chamber with a magical flame watching over it. A massive sarcophagus sat slab-like in the middle of the chamber. At the far wall was a small weapons rack of stone. "Pretty simple," Allen commented.

"Take a look at this," Biggs said. He brushed some of the bust off the lid and read the Alexandrian text there. "To those reading this, my last wish, greetings! I congratulate you on finding my tomb. If you are simple grave robbers, you may leave now, for I am buried with no valuables to plunder. But, if you are men with higher aspirations, you may take my greatest gifts with you. Just beware, and always remember that they are more than simple tools. I, Ceyphus of Alexandria, salute you."

"What the hell does that mean?" Wyvern snapped.

Biggs ran his hand over the lid. "This wasn't carved. It was…scratched."

"When he says gifts," Wedge said, "do you think he means these?" He gestured at the weapons rack. Of the five positions, naked swords filled four. The bottom position was the empty one and the three above it all had blades made of some black steel. The sword at the top was also black, but decorated with intricate gold swirls.

"I really don't like the feel of this," Hawk said. "There's nothing here, let's get out."

Allen's gaze came to rest on the topmost sword. "No," he said. "We found this place; the swords are ours to take. That's what the message says, right?" Biggs nodded. Allen set his lance aside, then reached out and gently lifted sword off of its mount. He whistled. "It's balanced perfectly."

Wedge took the sword just below it. "It feels good," he said. "A perfect fit."

Wyvern stepped in between them and picked up the next sword. "Yes," he agreed almost automatically. "Like, like they were made just for us."

Biggs came around the sarcophagus and closed his hand around the hilt. "That's exactly it!" he said eagerly. "They were made for us! He knew we would find them someday!"

Hawk began to back towards the entrance. "Guys, guys, you're freaking me out. Put the swords down, okay?"

"He doesn't understand," Wyvern said.

"No, he doesn't," Wedge answered. "That's why there's no sword waiting for him."

Allen continued to face the wall, his eyes locked to the blade. "The first sword was given to the fool who drew us here. His was a lesser purpose, however, and it destroyed him. It doesn't matter. We have them now, just was we were meant to."

Almost as one, the four of them turned to look at Hawk. He swallowed hard, hands trembling. Eyes darting this way and that, he finally turned to look at his older brother. "Wyvern?" he asked cautiously.

Allen grinned. "Kill him." They all leapt at Hawk.

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"We dragged his body back to the creature's and burned them together. When we got home, we made up a suitably heroic tale for him," Biggs finished.

Daren felt his jaw clench. "I know. I remember it." He recalled the story they told about Hawk when they'd come back, that he'd been the only one quick enough to get close and set off a powerful spell that consumed both him and the creature. "But you hid the swords."

"Well, naturally. Couldn't have prying eyes seeing too much, you know?"

Daren's eyes narrowed. "Wait. What happened to Wyvern? I know he was with you when you were exiled."

A new voice spoke. "Wyvern decided that our failure was his opportunity. He tried to wrest my sword from me and declare himself our leader." Daren's eyes followed the voice up to where Allen was sitting on a low ridge. "I fed his body to a pack of fangs."

Daren cursed under his breath. "Is there no end to this madness?" he asked himself. Louder, he said, "where's Serena?"

Allen sat with his legs crossed, chin resting on his knuckles, smiling as though he hadn't a care in the world. He raised his free hand and jerked it, as though tugging on a leash. Serena appeared, completely bound in some kind of black rope. Daren saw he lance pressed against her body, but she was so tightly constricted, she couldn't even budge it. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Daren hauled himself to his feet in anger. "What do you think you're doing to her?"

"None of your business," Wedge's voice said. Daren turned to find the red-haired Burmecian standing off to his right, arms crossed and sword sheathed.

Daren felt a sickening feeling. "Where's Frey?"

Wedge brushed away a stray lock of hair. "Isn't that quite the interesting question?" he said, sarcasm heavy in his tone.

Daren snapped. "Where is he, Wedge?!"

"He's dead!" Wedge shot back. "And you'll be joining him soon!"

Daren felt a rain-cold shock. "Dead," he repeated softly, as though he'd never heard the word before. He looked up at Serena. "Is it true?"

Her expression told him everything as she nodded. "It's true," she said, voice breaking. "Wedge threw him over the side."

"Enough talk," Wedge said decisively. "Let's finish this." He closed in on Daren. Daren summoned up enough energy to swing his lance, but Wedge easily ducked out of the way, grabbed it, and wrenched it from his hands. "Pathetic," he commented as he tossed it away and watched Daren stagger backwards and try to assume a fighting stance. "You think you can offer any kind of challenge in your condition?"

"I can try," Daren replied. Wedge snorted and stepped in, easily dodging Daren's unfocused punches. He grabbed Daren's arm and pulled right into a crushing blow to the stomach. Daren felt the wind get knocked out of him and he gasped. Wedge shoved him away and lashed out, catching him with a fierce blow to the jaw. Daren dropped to the ground, but only for a moment. Almost before the shock of the fall had faded, he was roughly hauled back up to his feet. Sharp claws tore away his cloak and pouch, and he caught a brief flash of Biggs' face before another fist slammed into his solar plexus. He started to double over, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face Wedge, who promptly backhanded him. Daren thought he felt something buckle.

---------------------------

Serena tried to wiggle her fingers and get a better grip on her lance, but her bonds didn't allow even that. She tried to turn her head and avert her gaze from the severe beating that Daren was enduring, but one tendril that curled around her neck and up the side of her head refused to let her. She saw Allen watching her and froze. "Oh, don't let me interrupt," he said. "By all means, keep trying."

Serena ignored him. She tucked her chin into her chest and tried to bite through one of the tendrils, but it resisted as though it were made of steel. Finally, she gave up trying. She looked up in time to see Daren reel away from a vicious punch that caught him just above the eye. "Allen, make them stop."

He refused to look at her. "No."

----------------------------

Daren's legs simply collapsed. There was simply no longer any fight left in him. He felt blood coming from a pair of gashes on his face, one on his cheek, one over his eye. Wedge hauled him up again, but as soon as he let go, Daren toppled over. He heard Biggs snarl in contempt and felt a kick land at his back. Another kick struck him in the face and he tasted blood. He felt tears running from his eyes and couldn't help feeling ashamed. "Brother," he croaked, his voice so broken even he could barely make it out. He took in a deep breath and felt his chest heave. "Allen, please!" he shouted.

--------------------------

Daren's shriek caught Serena like a stab to the heart. "No," she whimpered. "No more."

"Did you say something?" Allen asked conversationally.

"No more, Allen," said. "Make them stop."

"Why?"

"Please, Allen."

"I don't think so."

"He's your little brother!" she begged. "Give him a clean death, at least!" A part of her recoiled at the words she was speaking, but even so, she knew she could plead for nothing more. Asking Allen to let him live would end in failure, and it would be simple cruelty to stand by and watch this wanton violence continue.

Allen looked at her, considering, then looked back at the fight. "Wedge! Biggs!" he shouted. The two lesser renegades heard him and stopped to look up at him, leaving Daren on the ground like a piece of meat. He looked back at Serena. "A clean death?"

"That's all, please." She took a deep breath. "Do whatever you want to me, just...you've gone far enough. Just finish it!" Allen looked at her for a long time, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"Biggs, Wedge," he finally said.

"Yes?"

"Keep going."

------------------------

NO! Daren's mind was screaming as he was picked up and thrown against a rock wall. He sagged, but was knocked back up before he could fall away. NO! NO! NO! The sheer cruelty of his brother's order tore away every last bit of hope he had. He squeezed his eyes closed and waited for the end, for surely it was near. There was nothing left, now. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Nothing at all.

Daren felt his lip begin to curl in anger as more blows rocked his midsection.

Completely empty.

No hope.

He felt his fists begin to tighten.

Betrayal.

Murder.

They killed Frey.

That thought seemed to snap his mind. They killed Frey. They killed Frey! A suddenly fire lit inside of Daren. Without warning, his arms shot out and grasped both Biggs and Wedge. His eyes snapped open, and they glowed with a fierce white light. "So, you want to beat me to death?" he snarled, voice full of rage. He pulled himself away from the rock, standing on battered legs. "Let's see how you like it when you're on the receiving end!" He threw both of his opponents into the air as his entire body seemed to explode with light.

----------------------------

For a moment, Allen and Serena seemed to share a mind, as they gasped in shock. Allen sputtered. "What the-"

"Daren?" Serena asked under her breath. Daren stepped away from the wall, looking like some kind of archangel. Wedge rose and moved to draw his sword, but Daren suddenly leapt and caught him with a powerful body check that flattened him. Biggs rose but didn't move while Wedge coughed thickly on the ground. Daren walked over to his fallen lance almost casually and picked it up, then spun to face his tormentors.

"Who's first?" he demanded, voice echoing strangely.

Serena suddenly understood. "Trance," she whispered. Trance. It was spoken of in whispers. Something for adventure stories and fairy tales. A blessing from the gods, it was said, that would envelop a righteous warrior at the moment he had truly lost all hope. Serena felt her own hopes rise. "Daren!" she shouted. "Up here!"

Daren looked up her and pointed with one hand. A bright point of light coalesced around his finger and suddenly a beam of light shot out. The beam struck the nightmarish cords holding Serena, and she bucked like she'd been punched. The tendrils squirmed, shuddered, and froze in place, shattering when she flexed against them. The sleeves of her uniform in rags from freezing against the tendrils, she dropped to the ground to the not at all unwelcome sight of Allen Olivera looking completely dumbfounded. "H-how?" he stammered.

"You should have killed him when you had the chance," Serena said. "Now, he's not going to show Biggs and Wedge any mercy." She set her lance. "The same way I'm not going to show you any." She charged at him. Simultaneously, Daren ran at Biggs and Wedge. Serena knew that the battle was still tilted in favor of the dark knights. Allen could still exceed her in a pitched battle, and she doubted that Daren would be able to match him, even with his newfound energy. Frey, she thought, if there's any chance that you're still alive, or if you can even hear me, please come and help me, one last time.

There was no reply.

Very cool...good backstory for the evil bunch.

And we are not animals...they have patience and civility

Yay. *purrs*

Very nice. Keep it up.

YAY!! He Tranced!! *happydance*

Show those Arses whatfor!!

*is HAPPY*

But... what's happened to Frey?!

Plese, Kuja, don't keep us waiting!

Chapter 25: The Last Grasp


Frey had landed more or less upright, his back against the rock face, his head bowed as if in prayer. Blood covered his hands, both scraped badly during the fall. Blood ran down the side of his head from a gash received when bouncing off the wall. His legs were soaked in blood, and both of them were bent at unnatural angles. If not for his ragged breathing, he would have appeared dead. He head lolled back until it struck the wall, and his eyes slid open. He wheezed. He tried to rise, but he immediately screamed in pain and fell back. Tears flowed freely down his face, but he didn't notice them. He realized that he had torn a long gash down his left forearm, and only luck had prevented him from slicing something vital. He looked down and his eyes widened. He'd landed on a fair-sized jet of rock that erupted from the cliffs. He hadn't even fallen halfway down. He looked to his right, but saw nothing except for broken ground and a few scraggly plants. To his left-

To his left was Salvation. She'd caught between a rock and a vine, her hilt just a foot or two away. He reached out for her, ignoring the pain in his arm as he did so. He stretched, and his hand came within a few inches. She sang fiercely, encouraging him with all her might. He kept trying, but finally the pain became too great and he sagged back into place. He simply looked at the ground, feeling numb with pain. Finally, he began to weep softly. "Well," he croaked, "now what?" There was no reply. "What do I do now?" he asked the air, feeling more despondent with every passing moment. Salvation sang to him, but she was as good as a broken stick for all that she could do.

"What am I supposed to do now, huh?!" Frey shouted raggedly at the heavens. "What now? How do I get out of this one?" He collapsed, feeling spent. "Everybody thinks I have the answers," he said to himself. "But I don't. I don't have some special getaway planned for everything. I'm just...just a normal person. I can’t bounce back from everything like a ball." He slowly turned to look at Salvation. Her voice softened, but she still encouraged him. "So what now?" he asked. "Try and stand up so I can fall the rest of the way down and end it quick? Or just sit here and bleed to death?"

"I don't find either option very appealing," a voice said. Frey was too tired to be surprised, so he simply turned his head towards the voice, which seemed to come from his right. A person, or at least, what appeared to be a person was standing at the edge of the overhang, looking at him. The man looked normal enough; he had brown eyes, dark brown hair, and a neatly trimmed goatee. His clothes were also fairly innocuous: a simple shirt and breeches. Nevertheless, there was something about him that seemed other than normal, almost as though he weren't really there.

"What do you want?" Frey asked, not really caring.

The man approached Frey, crouched, and looked him in the eyes. "I want you to win, Frey."

Had this happened a week ago, Frey would've been left goggling. Now, he simply shrugged. He'd seen so much crazy stuff in the last few days, he felt numb. "Well, sorry," he said. "Looks like you're too late."

"It's never too late to change the future," the man said, and stood again. A moment passed. "Can you guess who I am?" he asked.

"Not a clue," said Frey without looking at him. He felt his eyelids trying to slide closed.

"Don't fade out, my friend," the man said, anchoring him to reality. "You're still needed."

Frey looked up angrily. "How am I supposed to do anything?" he rasped. "If this is so damn important to you, why don't you do something?"

The man sighed. "I can't. I'm bound. All I can do is urge you not to give up. Everything is riding on your shoulders, Frey Amethyst. I can't afford to lose you."

Frey's eyes narrowed. "Who...who are you?"

The man bent and looked at him closely. "You haven't guessed already? Think."

Frey looked at the man for a long time. "I don't know," he finally said, sagging. "You look like Dock, but not enough to make me think you're him."

The man smiled grimly. "Frey, I'm one of the two men who've changed your life so radically the last few days."

Frey looked back up. "Dromenephus," he said.

The man nodded solemnly. "Frey, you know how much is at stake here. I cannot interfere with the fight. You have to do this!"

"How?" Frey snarled. "Look! I'm a damned wreck! I can't even stand up on my own! I can't fight this fight any more!"

"And I say you can," Dromenephus replied. "Your father taught you how."

"My father?" Frey coughed. "You don't mean Cairn, do you?"

Dromenephus shook his head. "No."

Frey's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

Dromenephus looked at him sidelong. "What did Dock teach you?"

"Do you mean...white magic? But I never could do it.""

"You can."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. I don't remember any of it. And I never could pull it off, even if he was right there, coaching me."

"And I say you can. You must."

"Look at me!" Frey shrieked, feeling his voice threaten to give out. "I've been beaten to a pulp! How can you stand there and tell me what I can or can't do?"

"What do you have to lose?"

Frey stared at the spirit, utterly nonplussed. Dromenephus was right. He had nothing to lose; he was a dead man if he didn't do something soon. On the other hand, if he succeeded...it was worth a shot. He took a deep breath, let it out, and closed his eyes. Now, he thought. How did it go?

--------------------------

"I don't get it," he said.

"Keep trying," Dock said kindly.

Frey sighed. "I just don't." He unfolded his hands. "I guess I'm not cut out for it."

"I suppose not," Dock said with a bit of regret. At Frey's surprised look, he continued. "Now boy, I'm not insulting you. I'm saying you don't have the mindset."

"A what?"

"The right mood. You've got the potential, that's for certain. If you really wanted to, Frey, I know you could become a white wizard. You're just not pointed in the right direction."

"So what direction do I need to be pointed in?"

"Solemnity. A wielder of white magic tends to have a very serious outlook on life. The reason for it is because the ability to use it stems from a desire to protect and heal."

"But I like helping people."

Dock smiled. "I know you do, Frey, but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about desire. Your desire to learn how to use a sword and going out to fight overrides your desire to help those in need."

"But-" Frey trailed off. "I don't get it," he finally said.

Dock leaned forward to look the kid in the eyes. "Frey, someday in your life, there may come a time when someone you love very much is in a lot of trouble."

"Like you and Cairn?"

"Maybe. Maybe someone else. Maybe someone you haven't met yet. But when you know you're willing to do anything, give anything, even your own life, to help them..." Dock reached out and touched Frey's temple, "that's when everything will open up for you."

"Is that what happened to you?" Frey asked quietly.

Dock nodded. "It's rather difficult to talk about. Cairn was in a lot of trouble, and I knew I had to help him...and it just came to me."

Frey smiled. "Good thing!"

Dock returned the grin. "Yes, a very good thing indeed."

------------------------

Frey brought the heels of his palms together, wrapping his left hand around his right and ignoring the pain from his midsection. He tried to concentrate, to clear his mind. Long moments passed, but nothing happened. He blew a breath out. "I never could get the hang of this," he said.

"Give yourself a moment to recoup," Dromenephus advised. "And try not to lose your focus."

Frey chuckled grimly. "You sound like Dock."

Dromenephus smiled a bit. "Well, that's not surprising, considering he was my ancestor."

Frey's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"My grandson, about nine generations removed. And he taught you well, Frey, I know that." He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Frey's shoulder. "And deep down inside, you learned well. Now you just have to bring it out. Are you ready to try again?"

Frey nodded. "Yeah." He swayed a bit. "Keep talking, Dromenephus. I think I'm losing my concentration. Must be all that blood I lost."

"All right," he said as Frey resumed the position. "Close your eyes so you're not distracted. Don't focus on the pain, that'll just anchor you to it. Blot it out. Concentrate on the person you want to save the most..."

-------------------------

Serena leaped backwards from Allen's attack. She was completely on the defensive, unable to mount any sort of attack at all. Allen's unnatural speed and agility ensured that. In the corner of her eye, she could see the light emanating from where Daren stood exchanging spells with Biggs and threatening Wedge with his lance every time the renegade came close. Allen stepped in and chopped again, forcing her to pay attention. She sidestepped, then ducked and retreated as he swung her way. "Run away all you like," he sneered. "It's not going to help you in the end." She didn't reply.

Meanwhile, Daren forced Biggs to drop to the ground with another blast of cold. He suppressed a smile. Thus far, his performance had been nothing short of spectacular, but he knew it couldn't last. Wedge and Biggs were, in effect, playing a highly dangerous version of 'keep away' where they rushed, dodged, and retreated. And they never moved closer to each other, preventing Daren from targeting both of them at once. He knew they were waiting for his newfound powers to leave him. Then they would press their attack and kill him quickly. Daren refused to let that happen.

He ran at Biggs, his speed such that he was very nearly flying over the ground. Biggs saw him coming and rolled out of the way as Daren's lance chewed through the solid rock where he'd been laying. As he landed, he felt himself lurch. No! Not now, he thought. But it was inexorable: his power was leaving him. He'd spent too much time and energy flinging spells. Despite that, he still felt fresh and rested, rather than the shambling wreck he'd been a few minutes ago. He saw Biggs and Wedge closing in, ready to finish him. He set himself. If they wanted Daren Olivera, they could have him, but not cheaply!

---------------------------

Frey's chest heaved. He felt himself clenching his jaw hard enough to make his teeth hurt. His eyes were shut so tightly, they felt like they were going to burst. He could hear Dromenephus' voice, but the words were indistinguishable thanks to the rush in his ears. Only one word echoed in his mind: Serena. He repeated it over and over again like a mantra. Had to help Serena. Had to save Serena. His left hand was clamped so tightly around his right he wondered if he'd have broken it by now if not for the gauntlet.

It felt like there was something alive inside of him! Some intangible, indistinct force was fighting to pull itself out of his body and erupt from him in a torrent. Frey tugged at it, pushed it forwards, encouraged it, cajoled it, urged it on, but it hurt so much! He felt like he was on fire, burning from the inside out! It was too much, too much! He had to let go! He forced himself to hold on. He had to ride it out. Serena, he repeated. Serena, Serena, Serena. She was all that mattered. All that counted. This pain was nothing compared to what she would go through if he failed.

Frey felt the fire inside him grow, strengthen, bring itself to a fever pitch. He heaved one last breath, roared, and felt it erupt from him. Without warning, his entire body caught fire! White flames covered him from head to foot. Frey screamed in pain, but with a gargantuan effort, he hurled himself forward and grabbed Salvation's handle. Clenching the sword to his chest, he silently begged her to help him through this. She sang louder than ever, drowning out Dromenephus' voice and even the sound of his own howls. Frey closed his eyes again and hung on for dear life.

--------------------------

Gizamaluke twisted and dove straight for the ground, his opponent mimicking his every action. They dropped like a pair of rocks, Gizamaluke flapping his wings and pulling up at the last possible moment. The dragon followed him of course - it was too much to hope that a dragon would be fooled by such a simple trick - but Gizamaluke had something else in mind. He spun, extended his wings to the fullest, and issued forth the brightest glow he'd ever managed. The dragon snarled in combined surprise and pain and clamped his eyes shut.

NOW! Gizamaluke screamed to himself. He dove at his opponent, curled, and lashed out with his tail. Rather than striking with the barb or the weight, he curled it around the dragon's neck. "I take no pleasure in this," he said quickly. "It shouldn't have been necessary." He summoned every ounce of strength he had and twisted. The young dragon's neck snapped like rotten wood, and Gizamaluke let the limp body fall to the ground. Shame at the senseless murder threatened to overwhelm him, but he forcibly quashed it and looked south. That was where he needed to be, and he needed to be there soon.

As the adrenaline rush from the battle wore off, Gizamaluke realized how tired he was. He felt like he'd flown a thousand miles and then some. Ignoring the urge to lay down and fall asleep right there, he tiredly beat his wings and headed south. He still needed to get through the mountains.

-----------------------

Serena felt her back press against Daren's. By fate or luck, they'd ended up backed against each other, their lances out. "Ready for a last stand?" she said softly.

"Everyone dies sometime," Daren said. "I suppose it might as well be protecting Burmecia."

"Can't think of a better way," she said with a rueful grin.

Allen, Biggs, and Wedge stood at a distance, surrounding them. Serena was put in mind of the fangs during the Grand Hunt. "Shall we finish them off?" Allen said.

"Let's get it over with," Wedge said. "I'm tired of waiting."

"Care to do the honors, Biggs?"

"Delighted, absolutely delighted," the other said. He stepped forward and raised a hand. A point of light appeared and began to expand. Flames began to lick the air. An immense, crackling ball of flame grew to the size of a person's head, a torso, and entire body, and kept growing. Serena felt the heat radiating off of it even from where she stood.

Daren suddenly wound up and threw a blast of ice at it, but the immense fireball simply absorbed the attack and kept growing. "Guess this is it," he commented.

"I'll see you on the other side, Daren," she said. "You too, Frey," she added in a whisper. Biggs raised his hand even farther, then stepped forward and hurled the massive ball of flame at them. To Serena's surprise, Daren stepped in front of her and braced himself, ready to absorb as much of the fire as he could. It was a useless gesture, but Serena was touched nonetheless. The fireball rushed towards them, growing hotter and brighter as it did so. Serena clenched her jaw, ready to go down staring death in the face-

-and was taken completely by surprise when the magical force slammed into an invisible wall and exploded. Both Serena and Daren watched in complete disbelief as the powerful fire spent itself utterly and vanished without ever touching it. "What-what the hell was that?" Daren said.

"You mean you didn't do that?" Serena replied.

"Biggs! Is this some kind of joke?" Allen roared.

"It's not my fault, it's not! I didn't do it, really I didn't do it!" Biggs stammered.

"Three against two is not in the way of gentlemen," another voice said. Almost as one, the five turned to the cliff's edge. Serena felt her heart threaten to come right out her chest as she saw Frey there! The ugly wound across his stomach had vanished completely, as had all the others he'd received in the fall. In fact, to her mind, he'd never looked better. He stood defiantly, Salvation in his left hand lying across his shoulders.

"You!" Wedge shouted.

"That's impossible!" Allen snarled. "You should be dead!"

"No, you're the one who should be dead," Frey replied sternly. "You betrayed your nation, your family," he looked directly at Serena, "and the woman who loved you." He swung Salvation forward. "It's payback time!"

"Wedge!" Allen shouted. "Kill him, and do it right this time!"

"Come on, Serena!" Daren suddenly said. "We might have a chance!" He ran at Biggs, his left hand already forming a bright blue aura. Serena took his lead and leapt at Allen, making full use of his broken concentration.

Frey turned to face Wedge, who glared at him furiously. "Round two," Frey said, and charged.

Cool comeback story.

Also liked how you did the transition for a White Mage train of thought.

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

YES!! YAY Frey!

Yay Kuja, giving us more of this wonderful story! *hugs, kisses*

Chapter 26: Turning Tides


"Something wrong, Wedge?" he asked. "You look irate."

Wedge glared balefully. "How could you have possibly survived?"

The corner of Frey's mouth turned up in a mocking grin. He raised his free hand, closed it, and opened it again. A blue-white fire silently burned in his palm. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Wedge," he said, his tone light.

"White magic..." Wedge snapped his gaze back up into Frey's face. "How? Where? When? I know you didn't know any during the Hunt."

Frey grew serious. "You, Allen, and Biggs are more or less the successors of a dark knight. Did you really think that his rival would stand idly by instead of intervening?"

Wedge grit his teeth. "Impossible," he muttered.

"Quite possible." Frey closed his hand again and the flame vanished. "Wedge, I'm going to give you one chance." He looked at his opponent evenly. "You can walk away from this. Cleanse yourself. Accept the responsibility for the people you've killed. Make restitutions. Or you can throw your life away tonight. It's your choice."

"You're kidding, right?" Wedge said, bringing his sword up and into an attack stance. Frey shook his head, pulled Salvation off his shoulders, and slowly lowered her to point at Wedge. There was a pause, then Wedge leapt forward. He drove straight towards Frey's heart, but suddenly, his opponent wasn't there! He felt a shove from behind and barely managed to turn his extra momentum into a forward roll. When he came up, he found that Frey had somehow gotten behind him. "How did you do that?" he spat.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

------------------------------

"Getting tired, Biggs?"

"You wish!"

Metal rang as the two exchanged blows, far too close now to use magic without endangering themselves in the process. Daren was in full control of the battle now, his lance attacking again and again as Biggs frantically worked to block him. Then, he sidestepped a thrust and stumbled. Suddenly, he realized that his legs felt numb. In fact, he could barely feel them. At that moment, he realized that the air seemed to be glowing a soft blue, only now becoming noticeable. He realized that Daren was using his natural affinity for the ice to slowly lower his body temperature. "Nice trick," he snarled.

"I'm going to beat you into the ground and freeze you solid if I have to," Daren replied.

A fire erupted into life around Biggs, scourging away the coldness. "Nice," he repeated. "But not enough."

---------------------------

Wedge leaped and came down with a powerful overhead slash, but Frey stretched a hand out and the sword slammed into a blue field inches away from him. Wedge growled in frustration and tried again, but met the same result. "Not good enough," Frey said. He suddenly seemed to blur out of sight, moving far too quickly for Wedge to track him. He struck three times with Salvation, once on Wedge's leg, once on his sword arm, and once in the midsection. The final blow threw Wedge backwards against a column of stone. Frey heard the Burmecian's head crack against the stone and briefly wondered if he'd killed his opponent.

No such luck. Wedge rose, albeit somewhat unsteadily, his cloak flowing all around him. "You're...you're not natural," he gasped.

"I'm as natural as you are, Wedge. Although that's not saying much, I'll grant you." He fought to keep a smile off his face and instead schooled his features into a look of compassion. "Wedge, give up now. Can't you see that you don't stand a chance?"

"Don't be a fool," Wedge replied. Without warning, his hand shot out of his robes holding a small hand crossbow. Before Frey could react, he felt the dart strike him in his midsection. He yelped in pain and Wedge leaped forward, driving the small weapon into his chin and knocking him over. Frey lay on the ground and suddenly convulsed, a groan of pain escaping from his lips. "You might've escaped death at my hands once, but not this time," he heard Wedge say. "That dart was coated in Mimic poison. You'll be dead in a few seconds."

------------------------

This time, Allen was the one on the defensive. Serena attacked over and over, refusing to allow him even one moment to gather himself. If he did, she knew, the battle would rapidly swing his way. She leaped up and tried her Spear attack, throwing her lance into the ground hard enough to release a small burst of fire. Allen leaped back, but not quickly enough to avoid a minor burn. Serena dropped, grabbed her lance, and quickly swung back into the fight.

-----------------------

Almost there, Gizamaluke thought. He was nearing the high point of the Aerbs Mountains. He could almost see the plateau on the other side. His wings beat tiredly at the air as he somehow summoned up the strength to keep himself flying. That was when he sensed them. Two of them. And they were adults this time, not impetuous young juveniles. They were approaching from almost due east. Gizamaluke cursed his luck, and for a moment, he was certain that they would see him. Then he tucked his wings back and dropped like a rock, aiming for a small body of water collected near the top of one of the mountains. His only chance was to conceal himself beneath the surface and let the two dragons pass by. It was going to be close, he knew. He pulled in one last breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and felt the icy cold water around him as he broke the surface of the small lake-

-and almost immediately slammed into its rocky bottom. All things considered, Gizamaluke was lucky not to break his own neck. As it was, he was completely stunned and let his body flop down into the water, looking for all the world like a particularly sinuous set of rocks just breaking the surface. As the dragons passed over, ignoring him, Gizamaluke went to work nursing his brand new headache. This, he decided, is not even remotely amusing.

-------------------------

Wedge watched, eyes threatening to burst out of his head, as Frey staggered to his feet. One hand gripped Salvation while the other tore the dart from his body and threw it away. Then, the hand returned to the injury. Frey whispered softly, and his hand glowed a faint shade of pale green as he gently touched the injury. A moment later, the glow changed from green to blue and he passed his hand over it a second time. When he dropped his arm, the injury was gone. "No," Wedge whispered. "Nobody could take a dose of that size and live! Nobody!"

"I'm getting tired of this, Wedge," Frey said, his voice like iron. "You can't win. Now surrender!"

"Go to hell!"

"Enough," Frey said. He twisted Salvation in his grip and drove her into the ground. Then, he clasped his hands in the fashion taught to him by Dock and began to rise into the air. Wedge stepped forward to attack while he was unarmed, but felt something in his way. He struck out at the wall, only to yelp and pull his hand back. It felt like striking a brick wall. He tried to go around it, but found more invisible walls to his left and right. Frey was now fully four feet of the ground and glowing with a dim white light. "Wedge Bastion," he said loudly, his voice echoing as though he stood in a cathedral, "for your crimes against the people of our world and refusing to turn from your path of darkness, I hereby give you to the gods." Frey's hands separated and a fierce blue light began to glow between them. "They shall judge you and give to you your eternal fate."

Wedge knew he was about to die. "I'll see you in hell," he snarled.

"I wouldn't count on it," Frey replied. He thrust his hands forward and the ball of blue light shot towards Wedge, catching him in the chest. Within an instant, his entire body was wreathed in blue flames as the holy light ate away at him. In his last moments, Wedge thought he saw a massive, leering mouth waiting to engulf him. All his courage, all his bravado, all his dark mockery faded away and he screamed.

Frey dropped back down to the ground and drew Salvation, looking at Wedge's body. All the black armor was gone, all the infernal designs, even the cloak he'd worn had all vanished. All that was left was the black sword. Frey pointed at it and a small tendril of blue light reached out to the sword. Then it too vanished. Frey crouched beside his dead nemesis and looked into his face. There wasn't a single mark upon him. In fact, he looked like he'd simply fallen asleep and if Frey touched him, he would wake up in a moment. Frey shook his head at his thoughts. The holy light hadn't touched Wedge physically, but had burned away at the darkness in his soul instead. And Wedge had had plenty of darkness to burn away. Recalling the Burmecian tradition, Frey reached out and gently opened Wedge's eyes. "Find your way, Wedge," he said softly. He rested a hand on Wedge's torso and began to recite a short prayer.

--------------------------------

Frey might have been prepared to offer mercy, but it wasn't in Daren's plan. Blood dripped from an injury to his hand and he grimaced. Biggs had gotten lucky with a strike, but no more. Daren drove him further and further back, chipping and scratching his black armor time after time with his blows. Desperate, Biggs leaped forward, but Daren sidestepped, twirled, and brought the blade of his lance down on Biggs' wrist, severing his sword hand. Biggs yelled in pain and dropped to one knee, clutching the bloody stump. Daren backed away, keeping unkind eyes fixed on Biggs. "What now?" the injured Burmecian said.

"Now?" Daren asked. "Now, you're going to be punished for what you've done. You're a traitor, Biggs. You betrayed your nation. You betrayed your order. You betrayed your people. You betrayed our faith. You betrayed my trust in you." Daren gripped his lance in both hands and raised it, tip pointing skywards. A rumbling in the earth began. "You've betrayed all of us," he continued. "Now, you're paying the price. The Dragon's Crest is never going to look on you with kindness again." As the last words left Daren's mouth, cracks opened in the ground and light poured through. Biggs realized that the cracks were forming the pattern of the Dragon's Crest. Daren was executing him. He shut his eyes tightly as the ground around him bulged and formed a dragon's head. A roar seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. At the last moment, as he felt teeth of stone pierce his body, he screamed.

The ground swallowed him whole, and Biggs Chandrenos was never seen again.

---------------------

The flat of his blade cracked against her head and Serena dropped to the ground. Her hair fell into her eyes and she brushed it back, realizing that her hat was gone as she did so. She turned and was barely able to raise her lance in time to stop another blow. Her heart sank as she realized she had lost her momentum. Allen was in control now, and he drove her back, setting her up for the kill. His sword crashed into her lance with unbelievable force and she again fell to the ground. He raised his hand, the now-familiar mist of blackness congealing around it. Serena determinedly met his eyes, offering nothing but unflinching resistance. The black mist shot down at her, but was suddenly intercepted by a blue fireball that burned it away in moments. Allen pulled his hand back and they both turned to the source of the intervention.

"It's not very polite to take advantage of a lady like that, now is it?" Frey said. He crouched on a small rise of rock, Salvation in her sheath.

Allen met his eyes and instantly knew why he was watching them so brazenly. "Wedge is dead, isn’t he?"

Frey nodded. "I gave him the opportunity to turn back, but he forced me to fight to the stupid end."

"You sound like you regret it!" Allen said, surprise in his tone.

Frey shrugged. "Just another life taken. One more to lay at Ceyphus' feet."

"How do you know about that?!"

"It doesn't really matter." Allen whirled to find Daren behind him. "Once we finish you off, we'll have plenty of time to sort things out."

The ghost of a smile crept across Allen's face. "You might have killed Biggs, little brother, but do you think you can do the same to me?"

"Brother? Brother?!" Daren shrieked. "You turned on me! You nearly had your thugs beat me to death! You dare call me brother?! I should kill you where you stand!"

"No!" Serena countered. Allen turned to watch her stand, her eyes defiantly locked to his. "If anyone is going to kill this leech. It's going to be me."

"Serena-"

"I wouldn't argue with her, Daren," Frey said, his voice light. "She's got that look in her eyes." He winked. "The same look I fell in love with."

"Smart man," she commented. She ripped away the torn ruffle that rested at the front of her neck to help keep her cool, then did the same with her ragged sleeves. She set herself and looked at Allen. "Ready for this?"

"Ready for anything." Serena ran at Allen, and as she did so, she felt a sudden power flow into her. The world around seemed to mire itself in thick mud and slow, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frey with one hand raised. She shrugged mentally. If he wanted to help her out a bit, she wasn't going to complain. Allen, though, was still supernaturally fast, and Frey's spell only brought Serena onto his level. Their weapons clashed, and Serena pressed forward to knock Allen off balance. Her tactic only partially succeeded. She managed to force him back, but he spun and tried to catch her with a sideswipe. She ducked and rolled forward, then came to one knee and spun. As she did so, she felt her lance grow cold in her hands, and wisps of freezing air came from the blade. Daren, too, had found a way to level the odds. As she spun, Allen leaped away, but not quickly enough to avoid and grazing injury to his leg. He came down awkwardly and she ran at him again. She saw him raise his hand.

"Not this time!" she shouted. She vaulted over the jet of blackness he threw at her, then came down and leapt...

--------------------

Her lance punched right through Allen's armor and into his ribcage. He was knocked off his feet by the force of the blow and came down on his back with Serena atop him. She pulled her lance out of his chest and stepped away. Allen tried to speak, but only coughed up blood. After a moment, his breathing slowed, then stopped. His eyes closed. All the strength went out of him, and he was gone. Serena turned away, refusing to look at his body. As she did so, she felt a pair of arms gently wrap around her. She leaned into Frey's embrace with a sigh of exhaustion. "It's over," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said. "It's over."

"The grotto should be safe now."

"Thanks to you."

"And you." She looked up at him and he winked. A smile spread across her face and she leaned forward. His lips met hers and he kissed her, reassuring her that he really was still there. "I thought I lost you," she said.

"I thought I was gone, too," he said. "It wasn't a very pretty feeling. But then, I just thought about you, and that gave me all the motivation I needed to stay alive."

"I'm glad that's over," Daren's voice came. Serena and Frey slowly pulled apart as he walked up. "Now what do we do?"

"Down the cliff, I suppose," Frey said. We can get back to the grotto through the south entrance, and we can see if the vices are gone while we're at it."

"A mountain climb and a recon mission," Daren said dryly. "After all we've been through, this should be an absolute cakewalk."

Frey snorted. Serena began to chuckle. Daren snickered. Frey laughed outright, and within moments, all three of them were doubled up with laughter as all the tenseness left them. Serena leaned against Frey for support as tears streamed down her face. Daren held his midsection. In between bouts of laughter, Frey realized what a deep laugh Daren had. It was surprisingly resonant, almost a full octave below his normal speaking tone. Then, when Daren's smile began to fade, Frey realized with a creeping feeling that it wasn't Daren's voice. The Burmecian's confused expression locked to Frey's as the last of their laughter faded away, leaving only the mysterious, deep voice reverberating around them. Serena gripped Frey's arm as the three of them looked about for the source of the laughter.

"Did you truly think it was going to be as simple as that?" the voice said. A sudden hellish light burst into being and the three spun towards it. Allen's body was rising from the ground, sword slipping from his hand, blood slowly leaking from his final injury. His eyes snapped open. Only they weren't his eyes. In place of the dark, mysterious orbs that he'd had before, his eyes were now pools of bright red light that left no doubt as to his demonic affiliation. His body trembled, convulsed, and he slowly curled into a ball in midair. Then, his limbs flew apart and he screamed. Frey stepped in front of Serena as Allen howled. The wet snapping of bones could be heard as Allen's body began to change. Before Frey's eyes, talons of black bone erupted from between his knuckles. Black hooks sprouted down his arms, blood rushing from the pierced skin. Allen trembled and screamed again as giant spears of black erupted from his elbows and knees, seeming to come from nowhere. Lastly, his face trembled, and a pair of tusks sprouted beside his mouth and grew larger, sweeping forward to frame his jaw.

Allen had transformed from a Burmecian to something not even remotely natural. His fierce red eyes looked down at the three warriors, who stood watching him in astonishment. "Now," he said in a voice far different from his own. "Now, I will show you no mercy!"

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!

Now would be a REALLY GOOD TIME for Gizamaluke to show.

Once again, Kuja, you've outdone yourself. That was just a fantastic ending to the single bouts, now, give us the Main Event!