Dragon Quest VIII
Kingdom of the Elves
by: Amisha N. Smith
Okay, before I start this fanfic, lemme ask you a question. Have any of you reading this played Dragon Quest VIII yet? If not, then may I suggest you stop reading this and go out and buy it now? This is a direct sequel fanfiction piece, which of course means that it's chock full of spoilers. You've been warned. However, if you have played the game, or if you simply don't give a damn about spoilers, then by all means, read away. By the way, if you're not among the lucky people that have already experienced the game, you should do so as soon as possible simply for the fact that the game kicks freakin' ass. Seriously. I once thought Final Fantasy VII was the greatest RPG ever, but then I played Dragon Quest VIII. Yes, it's that good. So, let's begin this story already, which so happens to star my favorite character from the game. Whom, you ask? Well, read on and find out. Now, with no further delay, let's begin…
Prologue
Marcello doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily and cursing his lousy luck. He knew he was in big trouble. He was exhausted from running up the winding stairs of the humongous stone tower of the port of Peregrin Quay as fast as he possibly could. Mainly because at that moment he was being closely pursued by a few old "friends".
"Give it up, Marcello! We've got you cornered!", he heard one of his pursuers yell from a few feet below. Marcello turned and sneered at the Templar Knights that were running up the stairs behind him, quickly closing the gap between himself and them. "So, I see that Rolo's dogs have finally caught up with me", he said with a smirk as the Templars drew near. "I guess this is it. The end of the line for me. Oh, whatever am I going to do?" The Templars stopped just four feet away from Marcello and drew their swords.
"There's nowhere you can run, Marcello", the Templar in the lead warned his quarry. "Give yourself up now. If you do not resist, you will not be harmed." Marcello's smirk turned into a confident and chilly grin as he noticed that the lead Templar's voice was shaking ever so slightly. He also noticed that even though they outnumbered him five to one, each one of them faced him with a nervous look that even bordered on fear. That's because they knew exactly whom they were facing; Marcello, the famed ex-Captain of the Templar Knights. And even though he no longer wore the trademark blue suit of the Templars, having replaced it with a totally black suit that matched his gloves and boots over which he wore a long, flowing black coat, it was a safe bet that he was probably still arguably the best swordsman in the known world. Marcello stretched his limbs and brought his hand up to his mouth, yawning lazily. He then folded his arms and looked down at his antagonists with an air of superiority.
"Okay, I'll tell you what", Marcello said, his confident smirk still on his face. "I'm not totally bereft of pity for you fools, so here's what I'll do. If you give up now, turn tail, and run like the pathetic dogs you are, I promise I'll let you go with your worthless lives." And with a flash that was quicker than lightning the lead Templar was stunned and terrified as suddenly the tip of Marcello's rapier was pressed against his Adam's apple, drawing a tiny stream of blood. "However", Marcello continued in a dark voice, "if you continue in your ridiculous quest to 'capture' me, I shall have no other choice but to use my sword to send you fools straight to the arms of your precious goddess."
"Well, it's nice to see the past year hasn't changed you, brother", Marcello heard a familiar voice say behind him. He whirled around to face his younger brother Angelo standing above him at the top of the stairs right at the opening to the large look-out balcony at the very top of the tower.
"You!", Marcello snarled, already full of rage at the sight of his sibling. "What are you doing here?" The lead Templar Knight saw this distraction as a chance to take Marcello down and, brandishing his sword, leaped forward. But Marcello had not forgotten about the annoying grunts behind him. Without even turning around, he simply waved his hand and the foolish Templar that made a move for him was instantly blown backwards by a surprisingly powerful kaswoosh spell. The strong wind slammed him into his fellow Templars behind him and they all tumbled backwards, rolling down the long stairway. Marcello didn't even bother to look back at them, he was too busy eyeing his brother with sheer hatred. "I'll ask you again; What the hell are you doing here? What do you want from me?", he yelled at Angelo.
"Well, it's wonderful to see you too, Marcello", Angelo replied in his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor. "I hear you've been… busy lately. Rumor has it that your swordsmanship and sorcery skills have grown exceedingly powerful in a very short time. Rumor also has it that your magic has grown so powerful that you were able to kill Lord Absom, the leader of the Blood Shadow, without breaking so much as a sweat. Is this true?"
Marcello narrowed his eyes and looked at Angelo. What business it that of his?, he thought suspiciously. Indeed, since he had denounced his position as Templar Captain a year ago and disappeared to journey in solitude, he had been honing his skills with the blade and magic to practical perfection. He learned a lot from his mistakes a year ago when he had battled Angelo and his meddlesome friends on the holy Isle of Neos. He knew if he was going to see his dream through to success, he would have to be as powerful as humanly possible, and then some. He had grown so powerful that about a month ago it had attracted the attention of a very powerful and very feared magician. Lord Absom, a seriously dedicated sorcerer of the black arts. He was also the leader of the Blood Shadow, a gang of wizards whose hideout was surmised to be somewhere to the south of the western continent. They were really nothing more than a band of thugs and pirates with magical powers, using sorceries to rob people and scare towns into paying them protection money. They also occasionally recruited people that they felt were adequately gifted with magic into their gang, sometimes forcefully. Marcello recalled how he had met Absom about three weeks ago. That day he was sitting alone on a sandy beach, calmly watching the sun set and sorting out his thoughts, when he was suddenly hit from behind by a bang spell. The sneak attack pushed Marcello forward and he slid on his face in the sand for about one foot and a half. He then got up, drew his sword, and swiftly turned to face whoever was behind him, ready to put a serious hurt on the idiot that was foolish enough to mess with him. It was then that he first laid eyes on Absom. The arrogant black wizard's arms were folded and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. He first boasted to the enraged ex-Templar Captain that he didn't look so tough and that he could probably murder him with a simple wave of his pinky finger. He then challenged Marcello with an ultimatum: Either face him in a fight to the death, or join the Blood Shadow gang. Marcello didn't have to think about what his answer would be. He was not interested in joining any gang, and he was already pissed off at this guy. Marcello flew at Absom, and they fought viciously on that beach all through the hours of the night. Marcello remembered how, at the break of dawn, he walked triumphantly away from the battlefield, leaving Absom's broken body on the beach for the birds to feast on. He also remembered how quickly the word had spread far and wide that Blood Shadow was now mourning the death of their leader and had sworn an oath of vengeance against Marcello for killing him.
"It's true, isn't it?", Angelo asked in a soft voice, breaking through his thoughts. "You killed Absom, didn't you?"
Marcello sneered at Angelo. "So what if I did?", he asked contemptuously. "Is that the reason that fat pig Rolo had wanted posters for me put up in nearly every town? I didn't know the priesthood was supposed to care so much about the fate of a crooked sorcerer." He then smirked and looked his brother up and down. "And I certainly didn't expect to see you here doing his dirty work. Don't tell me the Lord High Priest is holding your leash as well? I didn't think that was your style."
"One would have to be seriously powerful in order to be able to destroy a wizard like Absom", Angelo said in a solemn voice. "Rolo is quite concerned about what you plan to do with the power you've accumulated. And to be quite frank, brother, so am I."
"Ah, I see. So he's afraid of me, is that it?", Marcello said, stroking his chin and grinning a dark and thoughtful grin. He then threw his head back and laughed maniacally. "Oh, this is rich!", he roared. "So that's why that oversized joke of a priest put out a reward for my capture. He's hoping to use the Templars to take me down before I can use my newfound power to do the same to him." He waved his hand at Angelo in one sweeping motion and Angelo was suddenly knocked upwards and backwards by an unseen force. "Ooof!", Angelo barked, feeling as if someone had just kicked him in his stomach at full force. He flew outside into the air and landed hard on his backside onto the cold cement ground of the tower's look-out balcony.
"Urgh", Angelo grunted in pain as he rolled to his side, trying to get back on his feet. His instincts suddenly set off an alarm inside his head, telling him he should move now. He swiftly got his feet back under him and leaped forward just in time to avoid being skewered in his head by Marcello's rapier. Angelo drew his own rapier and whirled about to face his older brother, ready to fight the dreaded battle he knew had been inevitable since the second he and Marcello were reunited. Marcello stood five feet in front of him holding his rapier at his side, a cold and evil smile on his face. There was death in his eyes.
"It doesn't have to be this way", Angelo made one last heartfelt plea that he knew was hopeless. "Please, Marcello, let me help you."
"Help me?", Marcello replied, raising one eyebrow. "And how exactly would you be 'helping' me, hmm? By convincing me to exchange all the power I've attained this past year for a prison cell in New Purgatory Island? By getting me to relinquish all my hopes for making my lifelong dream come true?" He sneered and shook his head. "No thanks, brother. I can do badly all on my own. I don't need your 'help'."
"'Dream'? What dream? What are you talking about?", Angelo asked him.
"You know, that really shouldn't matter to you", Marcello answered. "You will be dead long before my plans come to fruition." Marcello held his rapier up and took on a battle stance. "Now, let's get this over with, shall we?", he said in a voice that matched his deadly intentions.
Angelo took on a battle stance of his own, trying his best to ignore the heaviness in his heart. He'd prayed to the Goddess that it wouldn't come to this, but no such luck. Thunder rumbled angrily in the distance as both brothers faced each other in a silent stand-off, prepared to fight each other to the death. Then, without warning, Marcello leaped forward. Angelo did the same, and sword clashed sword as the two men met in the middle. Angelo was quite alarmed to see that Marcello's swordsmanship skills have indeed improved substantially. His speed was incredible. He seemed to be slashing in one spot and jabbing in another at the same time. The movements of his arm were so fast it literally looked like a blur. At one instant, Marcello made a move that was like two slashes to the left and the right practically at the same time, and Angelo winced as the sharp, stinging pain followed by a feeling of warmth on his chest told him that Marcello had just drawn first blood in this battle. Angelo leaped backwards and out of the fray.
"Urgh", Angelo groaned as he clutched the stinging wound on his chest.
"Aw, what's the matter, little bro?", Marcello taunted with a chuckle. "Am I going too fast for you?"
"Don't get cocky yet, Marcello", Angelo growled as he eyed Marcello with contempt. Now he was pissed off. "This fight is far from over." He jumped forward and rushed Marcello, hoping to duck at the last minute and use his rapier to sweep Marcello off his feet. But his brother proved to be too quick for such a tactic to work on him. Marcello surprised Angelo by merely sidestepping, snatching his rapier out of his hand as he flew past, and booting him in his rear end at the last instant. Angelo came crashing face-down on the ground, instantly aware of the dire situation he was now in. Now, not only was he out-matched, but unarmed as well. He turned over on his back and started crawling backwards when he saw Marcello slowly advancing, a rapier in each hand and dark glee in his eyes.
"Now, what was that you said earlier about the fight being 'far from over'?", Marcello gloated triumphantly. "Looks more to me like the fight was over before it even began."
"Oh, spare me", Angelo said defiantly with a smirk. "If you're going to kill me, go ahead and do it. Just don't force me to have to listen to your endless jaw melody."
Marcello just grinned and shook his head. "Still the same ol' cocky, idiotic jackass you always were, even to the end", he replied. He walked up to Angelo and put the blades of both rapiers in a criss-cross scissor formation against his neck. More thunder rumbled from the clouds above them, as if the very heavens were distressed by what they were seeing. "I'll give you a few seconds to pray to your precious goddess that she may have mercy on your soul in the afterlife", Marcello said evilly.
"Thank you, brother", Angelo said solemnly. "But I shall instead pray that she has mercy on your soul rather than mine. Seeing as how you're about to become a murderer with your own brother's blood on your hands, you'll definitely need it more than I."
Marcello simply sneered in reply. "I'm touched", he said sarcastically. "But, really, don't bother. You see, I've been an atheist since the day I was born." His grin widened as he prepared to do the unthinkable. "And now, farewell Angelo", he said with finality. "May your next life grace you with a little more luck, and a lot more wisdom."
"Hold it right there, you big jerk!", yelled a voice from nowhere. Marcello's head snapped up and he looked to the left and the right, wondering where that voice came from. "What the hell…? Who said that?", Marcello snapped.
As if on cue, a large purple balloon began to ascend above the edge of the balcony in front of Marcello. The ex-Templar Captain released Angelo from his grip and began slowly backing away, readying himself for anything. As the balloon rose higher, Marcello could see that something below it was attached to it by metal wires. What the hell is this?, he thought to himself. Then, as the balloon finished it's ascent, Marcello raised an eyebrow as he beheld quite an unusual sight. Attached below the balloon by the wires was a large, wide sort of basket. Inside it was a thin, brown-haired little boy that looked to be about twelve years old. He was wearing glasses and a patched-up mini blue suit that somewhat resembled a Templar's uniform. A small, wooden sword hung at his belt. Over the edge of the balloon he was aiming something that resembled a small cannon right at Marcello.
"Cease your treachery, foul villain!", the boy yelled defiantly at Marcello. "Lay down your arms and surrender at once, or face the unleashed wrath of…"
"Ebert!", Angelo yelled, surprise and anger in his voice. "What the…? I can't believe…! What on earth are you doing here?"
"Watching your back, Abbot Angelo!", the boy replied proudly. "It's a good thing I got here, too. That guy was about to skewer you! Oh, and next time, do you mind not stepping on my entrance lines? At least let me have the pleasure of introducing myself to the bad guy! Sheesh!"
Angelo's mouth hung open as he just looked at Ebert, so angry he couldn't even speak. Ever since the small orphaned boy had arrived at Maella Abbey after his parents' deaths half a year ago, he had time and time again demonstrated how much of a technological genius he was by building dozens of machines from scratch, some of them big, some of them small, all of them quite impressive. The Cloud Skipper, the machine that he was now hovering over the tower of Peregrin Quay in, was the latest one. Right now, as he watched Ebert merrily putting himself in more danger than he could possibly know, Angelo wished he'd followed his instincts when Ebert proudly presented the machine to him months ago and had the thing immediately dismantled.
"And now, it's time for you to face justice, criminal!", Ebert yelled, pointing at Marcello. "You can either come along in peace or in pieces! But make no mistake, you will resign yourself over to the Templars, one way or the other!"
"Ebert, get out of here!", Angelo yelled. "This is not a game! Don't you realize the danger you're in?"
"Enough", Marcello interrupted in an annoyed voice. He waved his arm in a low, sweeping motion and Angelo's body was suddenly pushed downwards by the same powerful, invisible force Marcello had assaulted him with earlier. "Ungh", Angelo said as the back of his head slammed hard onto the ground. Angelo tried to struggle against Marcello's dark magic and was surprised and dismayed when he realized he couldn't move an inch.
"Urgghhh! What… what have you… done to me, Marcello?", Angelo managed to stammer as he tried furiously to free himself from the magic power that was paralyzing him. Marcello didn't respond. He simply started slowly advancing towards Angelo. "Listen boy", Marcello addressed Ebert without taking his eyes off of his brother, "You would do well to leave while you can. I'm about to finish this fool once and for all, and if you try to get in my way, you will suffer the same fate." Marcello pulled his hand back and a large fireball started to form in his palm as he prepared to roast Angelo with a frizzle attack. Thunder crackled wrathfully from the dark-gray couds in the distance.
"Okay, that's it!", Ebert yelled, aiming his small cannon-like chute at Marcello. "I gave you a chance to give up peaceably, but you wanna do things the hard way! Well fine, so be it! Now take this!" Ebert pushed a button on the side of his tiny cannon and something that looked like a small bag flew out of it's chute and hit Marcello square in his face.
"Gah!", Marcello cried as he brought his hand up to his eyes. The front of his face was covered in an ashy residue. "What is this? It's… burning my eyes!" His other hand accidentally released the frizz spell and the fireball flew straight towards the Cloud Skipper. "Yikes!", Ebert exclaimed, realizing that he was now just a second away from being cremated alive. He wasted no time in jumping from the Cloud Skipper to the balcony of the tower right beside Angelo… just an instant before his beloved flying machine was hit by the fireball and combusted in the air. "Aw man! The Cloud Skipper's toast!", Ebert whined as he watched the flaming debris that was once his greatest invention zoom uncontrollably into the clouds in the distance. He turned to angrily face Marcello, who was still coughing and rubbing at his eyes. "You'll pay for that, heathen!", he yelled, drawing his wooden sword. It was at that moment Angelo realized he had regained his ability to move. He immediately made it to his feet and rushed over to stand protectively at Ebert's side. He knew that Marcello was sure to be pissed off by Ebert's meddling and would probably try to kill the both of them now. And sure enough, after Marcello had finally wiped the rest of his face clean of the filthy, ash-like dirt that was burning his eyes, he glared at both Angelo and Ebert with a look that could only be described as hatred unbridled.
"How'd you like the taste of my pepper bomb, loser?" Ebert gloated as he stuck out his tongue.
"Ebert, shut up", Angelo snapped, not taking his eyes off Marcello. "Let me handle this."
Marcello, his face contorted with rage, pointed his hand at the both of them and started to mumble what sounded like an incantation. His eyes were glowing with a black light. Angelo, horrified, knew exactly what Marcello was about to do. He was about to cast Thwack, a deadly curse that instantly kills a group of targets.
"Marcello, no!", Angelo yelled desperately. "He's only a boy! For once in your life, have some compassion!"
"I am far beyond the point of having compassion for you or that idiotic brat", Marcello snarled. "Now prepare to d… What?" Marcello stopped in mid-sentence as he looked above, most alarmed at what he saw. The flaming remains of the balloon the boy was flying in was now doing a twisting, tail-spin dive… straight in his direction. Marcello turned and tried to leap away. He was too late. The flaming debris slammed into the ground beside him and exploded. The force of the combustion hit him hard and threw him high into the air. By the time he came crashing down on his side, he was already unconscious.
"Marcello!", Angelo yelled, running to his brother's side. He knelt down and lifted Marcello's head, examining him. He was completely out for the count and the side of his forehead was bleeding, but other than that there didn't seem to be any permanent injuries. "Oh, thank the Goddess", Angelo said, breathing a sigh of relief. It was at that instant the other five Templars Marcello had dispatched of earlier came running out onto the balcony.
"Abbot! Sir, are you alright?", the lead Templar asked Angelo. "What was that explosion? What happened?"
"What happened?", Ebert suddenly interrupted, pushing his way past the Templars to stand beside Angelo. "I'll tell you what happened! You just missed watching me kick some serious boo-tay, that's all! I took down Marcello all by myself! Yep, sure did! If you don't believe me, you can ask the Abbot! Go ahead, ask him!"
"Ebert! What are you doing here?", one of the Templar guards asked the boy.
"What he always does", Angelo said angrily as he looked sternly at Ebert. "Disobeying orders, running away from home, and getting himself into trouble."
"Aw, come on, Abbot", Ebert whined as he looked down at his feet. "I did help you beat Marcello, didn't I?"
"I never said I needed your help!", Angelo yelled at the boy. "I told you to stay at the abbey and wait for me to return! And here you are, once again breaking the rules! Once again nearly getting yourself killed! When will you learn to do as you're told?" Angelo saw that Ebert merely stood there without saying a word and without raising his head and figured he'd said enough. He turned to the lead Templar Knight.
"Captain", Angelo said. "our mission is complete. Marcello has been subdued. Have him put in restraints and taken to the ship at once. We set sail for New Purgatory Island as soon as possible. And be sure to doctor his wounds. He's just suffering from a concussion, nothing too serious. Oh, and take Ebert along with you. Do not let him leave your sight. Understand?"
"Yessir", the Captain replied. He signaled to his men and they swarmed Marcello, binding him in chains. Angelo watched as they dragged his brother away. He couldn't help but to feel sad. The Captain reached over to take Ebert's hand but the boy snatched it away.
"I can walk to the ship by myself", he said sulkily as he stalked off after the other Templars. After everyone else had left, Angelo turned and faced the sea where his boat, the Empyria's Wing, waited for him. Soon it would be carrying them all to New Purgatory Island, where Marcello would spend many a day to come. It's his own fault, Angelo thought to himself. Marcello brought this on himself. He made his bed, so now he must lie in it. Besides, if the situation was reversed, I doubt he'd have much pity for me. More thunder sounded from the clouds and Angelo hung his head, his heart seeming to reflect the weather. He did not want to do this to Marcello, but he felt he had no choice. Perhaps, in the far future, everything would be alright. For himself, for Marcello, for everyone. Please let it be so, Goddess, Angelo prayed silently. Please let it be so.
As if in answer to his prayer, a heavy rain began to fall.
