Verité au Vie
By Brian Conley
Five The World Won't Stop
Dear Timothy,
How's the Weather in Windurst? I keep checking the linkshells and it always seems to be hot there. I hope you find a way to keep cool, you've never been good in heat. How's Army life treating you? Is the Windurstian way tougher then Bastok? Everyone here I talk to scoffs at that idea, but I'll wait to get your thoughts, 'cause you have first-hand. As for us, everyone here at home is pretty much the same. Mama is still playing head-chef at the school, Papa's still at the Ironworks and me…well, I'm still maintaining my every day-to-day. We all miss you. I mean, we all put on brave faces when you decided to transfer to the Windurstian Army…none of us wanted to see you go. I know the experience will be good for you, diversity and all that but I miss you. I dunno, I think me and you made a pretty good pair, as far as siblings go, yeah? Oh, Mom's calling me, I'll write again later. Stay cool and healthy.
Love, Aylia
Timothy folded his sister's handwritten letter back into its envelope, careful not to tear it. He looked at her loopy handwritten address, smiling at her exaggerated Ls. He hoped his family was really as alright as she made it out to be, he sure they were, but being away from how often they drew out the worst of thoughts. Timothy collapsed into his bed and watched the ceiling, daydreaming of the family left behind. Before transferring to the Windurstian army, his sister and he spent a lot of time together, whether it be carousing the markets of Bastok, fishing in Northern Gustaberg or just playing quiet games of chess at home. Getting a letter from her plucked singularly at a heartstring and rang lonely throughout. Being away from home, he surmised, makes one realize how much you took it for granted. Back home, Timothy would have never said to his sister's face, I love you, but enlisted in a foreign army nearly across the globe, he said it in his prayers every night.
Timothy reached his hands up to rub over his face. Being homesick was bad in and of its self, but he was also tired—he had just gotten off a seven-hour walking patrol of all of rainy Windurst, which were essentially five laps of the entire city on foot. What's more is that he was one of three humans in residing in Windurst (army or otherwise) and didn't quite fit into the Mithran and Taru ways of life. Here, people were reserved and well-mannered…the Taru alone seemed to be the paradigm of politeness and the complete opposite of the Galka he was used to residing with. And what exactly was the point of a four-thousand-plus-troop army in such a city of peace? Nothing ever happened here…the most the law ever had to do was to help clean up stray brushfires out in Sarutabaruta or maybe help escort a bank carriage to Jueno…simple things—things that a small fifty officer brigade could handle.
Everyone was just afraid of the next big war. It was true…the only reason any army still existed was because of fear of battle. San d'Oria had its Royal Knights, Bastok had its Grand Army and Windurst had the Legionnaire's Army. The three Armies only stayed banded together because (despite floods of national treaties, proclamations and alliances) the Nations all feared war and none of them wanted to be caught unawares, if one broke out. Timothy remembered his sister's words, the day before he was transferred to Windurst. They had gone to eat lunch out on the flattened roof of a favorite restaurant, sort of a last meal. The same subject of why the armies existed came up and Aylia brought the entire conversation to a single point:
"Having soldiers ready to throw their lives away for country and pride is an act of fear."
Timothy smiled at thoughts of his sister-left-behind and frowned. It felt like it had been a really long day. He put his hands on his stomach and frowned…it was only about noon and he was thoroughly exhausted, hungry and homesick. It was a good thing he had the rest of the day off: he wasn't sure he could have made it through any more. He took a deep breath and sat up, deciding on the simple course of action to take a brief walk to a nearby eatery to get something to go, something he could eat while slouching around at home. He yawned again and stretched his arms as he started putting his shoes back on.
It had been raining since early morning and Timothy decided as he walked back into it that he was as full of rain as he could get. He liked the occasional grey day as much as the next guy, but this was Windurst rain; more comparable to a waterfall then to anything else. What made him even sicker of it was the fact that he had to hike the city in the stuff, soaking him completely to the bone within minutes. At the very least, he appreciated that it was a warm rain. Had it been like the bitter rains of Bastok, Timothy would be in an infirmary with pneumonia. He stuck his hands into his pockets and kept his head down in his hood, glad still to be out of his uniform. H made the walk to the restaurant attached to the left of the culinary guild: the food there was cheap, tasty and often times they served foreign foods as their daily special; which was a lot heartier then the light meats that the Mithran usually dined on. Plus, he could get something to go and eat back in his room as he wrote back to Aylia. He smiled at the thought and started to write up a rough draft in his mind, sure he wouldn't remember it when he got back but it was nice to do anyway.
Dear Aylia,
Thanks for the letter. I hope everyone is really doing ok and that you're not lying to me (ha-ha). I'm fine here in Bastok and I hope to be back by the end of the year. Anyway, I'm eating lunch now, hopefully it's going to be grilled sheep…when the restaurant here makes it its absolutely delicious. What's Mom making for diner tonight? Hope it's not another one of her 'healthy' things, like those eggplants she stuffed with boiled cabbage. Gross.
He paused his mental letter as he came across the front doors of the restaurant. He walked in a sidled up to the counter, thankful that it was fairly early in the day and that nobody was really around to crowd the place. A teenage Mithra was on the other side and Timothy smiled politely at her.
"What's the special today?" He asked, hoping for something Bastokian. She looked down at the mini reference menu on the counter then back up at Timothy.
"Mithkabobs." She said, "Green pepper or Garlic."
"Ok." Timothy said, masking disappointment. He liked Mithkabobs, but they were more like a snack food to him, to all humans. In fact, back in Bastok, Aylia would buy them (from a import store) and she would snack on them while working on homework. It was a shame that the special was the kabobs…the only other constant foreign food were those disgusting Hedgehog Pies from San d'Oria.
"I'll take six orders to-go, three pepper, three garlic." Timothy ordered, not able to keep the small smile from the corner of his mouth. The teenage Mithra smiled and shook her head as she went to go get the food. Timothy didn't expect to sound so greedy…so hungry when he ordered it. Actually speaking that he wanted six orders-which was well over fifty kabobs-struck him as funny. While his order was getting ready, he continued his letter.
…Anyway…it's your birthday soon, right? Just a few more days and you'll be the ripe old age of seventeen. I'll try to send you a present, I promise…but I don't expect one in return. I know you don't get much Gil and what you do have I want you to spend on yourself and not on your silly twin brother. Windurst's weather is fine, albeit a little hot, but fine. It's raining today, pretty hard. Hah, it's even hot when it rains, so much so that all these Mithran, young or old, are wearing nothing but bikinis. You wouldn't wear a bikini in Bastok rain, right? Or would you just not wear a bikini at all? You were never one to show off that lanky body of yours.
"That'll be thirty Gil, sir."
Timothy shook free of his letter and dug into his pocket to get his money. He piled the mess of paper and coins on the counter and picked up the big bag of kabobs in front of him. He thanked the amused clerk and headed out to head back to his room, the food piping hot hanging from his hand.
Back in his room, Timothy changed into dry clothes and laid out his mithkabob feast down on the table in the center of the room. He sighed happily and before sitting down did a circle around his room, grabbing a pencil, some paper, opening the shade on his window to let in some of the grey morning light and then finally taking a seat, spreading out his paper and opening the first of six cardboard containers of kabobs, the garlic scent washing through the room in a delicious fog. Mithran cuisine was light but also very tasty. Timothy grinned and picked one up as he started writing. He jotted down what he remembered of what he wrote in his thoughts as he was out and about. After those two paragraphs he picked up another kabob and tapped his pencil against his chin and then started on the last one.
Ok, well…I'm hungry and tired and I'm sure you have chores or homework or something like that to do, right? So, if you excuse me I have to go chow down on about fifty-something mithkabobs and then go sleep them off. Tell mom and dad that I said 'hi' and that I'll write them a letter later on and you be good, ok?
Love,
Timothy
Timothy flicked away a bare kabob stick and folded the letter into three and slid it to the side as he continued eating. He would mail it after he ate…sleeping on a full stomach suddenly didn't seem to sit too well with him. Besides, he still had to buy her a present, which, knowing his sister was quite the undertaking. Buying for her was always such a pain…he never knew what she wanted. Clothes, maybe? He knew her size (six) and what she liked (something flowery in red), but he still didn't like getting her, or anyone, clothes as gifts. It just seemed so impersonal. Maybe something besides, he hoped, would strike him as he caroused the many shops Windurst had to offer. Money was no real object either, the army paid out a two-hundred a week allowance, living money they called it. And Timothy was real frugal with it, only spending maybe a hundred a week. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, grabbing another full kabob to chew on as he did.
The rain hadn't even subsided a little when Timothy stepped back out side to go gift-shopping about a half-hour later. He tucked the now-enveloped letter into his thin coat's pocket and patted it twice, making sure it wouldn't get wet. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he started to walk, his stomach full and making him feel sluggish. He decided to head to the Waters first: there was a little boutique there that sold girly non-clothing things, such as books and toys. He hoped to find something there that would strike his sister as interesting.
He walked along the dirt paths until they changed to wooden bridges suspended over murky, rain-beaten waters. The winds picked up a little, blustering the rain around and washed the smells of Windurst over Timothy: the fresh cut grass, high-growing sunflowers and the cool water that snaked through all of Windurst. Looking around, Timothy smiled at the houses, each one with a pointed roof and flat walls made of countless perfectly fitted boards. From inside each one there was soft light glowing, lit to contend with the darkness the rain brought about. The entire atmosphere was relaxed, like the entire town was a sleepy child ready to fall asleep. Timothy took it all in as he walked along with his hands in his pockets, stopping every few steps to peer into various windows, scoping out wares and prospective presents. He looked at golden necklaces shaped in all varieties with strategically placed jewels, like sapphires as the antenna for golden butterflies and red rubies as the eyes of gold fish pendants. They were pricey through and Aylia wasn't into jewelry. He looked at hats and glasses, wooden trains and tops…all very interesting, but nothing his sister would like. After passing a few more stores and houses he came across a bookstore. He looked into its window and read the cover of a few of the display books. One was about a history of Windurst (what looked like a textbook), another was a thick novel about Windurst government workers and the last of the three displayed was a even thicker book, with a plain cover and block-letter words spelling a title, Fables, Stories and Fairy Tales of Mithras. He didn't know what about it caught his eye, but it did. He grinned a little at it and went inside.
The bookstore was soft with comfort inside, lining the frame of the square ceiling were about fifty paper lanterns, warming the store with their soft light. Timothy looked around, smiled a greeting at the Mithra at the counter who looked up from her book only to return the smile. Timothy made his way to the display case and picked up the book. He flipped through it and skimmed a few of the stories, reading snippets about pirates, magical lizards and a warrior and some goblins. Something clicked in his mind and he heard Aylia's voice cheer happily. He closed the book and looked it over in his hands, glad to have found something that he knew his sister would like and would keep liking. She always was a sucker for a good book and this one was like fifty books in one. He nodded in silent confirmation and walked to the counter, putting the book down next to the open one the clerk was reading. The young Mithran clerk looked up at Timothy, smiled and stood up straight.
"Is that it?" She asked politely, looking at the book.
"Yeah." Timothy responded and dug into his pocket for a handful of Gil, "How much?"
"Fifteen."
Timothy counted it out and handed the money to the girl, who dropped it in the register drawer and closed it shut.
"It's a good book." She said, "I loved it when I was a kid." She eyed Timothy up and down and he caught her gaze, making her grin a little and look away.
"Odd that a human would buy it." She said, using a tone that offered no hints of racial slander.
"It's for my sister, actually. She's into books like this and, well, I think the diversity wouldn't hurt."
"How old is she?"
"Uh, seventeen next firesday. This is a birthday gift."
"Oh!" The girl said, her ears perking up on top of her head, "You should have told me! I can wrap it for you, for an extra two Gil…uh, if you want?"
"That would be great, thanks." He smiled and paid the two Gil and watched her turn to wrap the book in a red wrapping paper peppered with yellow stars. It was odd to Timothy though, making small talk with her like that…ever since arriving in Windurst about a half-year ago, he'd hadn't had much conversation with any townsfolk. His sister had always told him that conversation with anyone outside of the family wasn't his strong suite and that he needed to work on it. He of course would scoff at the idea, but in retrospect he thought that she was right. It was even more so in Windurst because he was a human and the populous was mostly Mithran and Taru…two cultures completely different then that of Bastok's. The people of Bastok, for the most part, were loud, brash and outspoken (though mostly nice, honest people). Windurst's people were collected, quiet and calm and put others before themselves, a practice which was hard to find in a Bastokian. And to make his problem worse was that he was trying to become as calm and easy-going as the city around him was, but still had those birth-given Bastok traits in him—another reason why he had stayed to himself as much as he could.
"For a seventeen year old…" The Mithra clerk said, "this'll be a quick read, but it's very good and most of the stories are memorable." She laid the last piece of tape on and turned around to present it to Timothy, neatly enfolded in the colorful paper.
"Enjoy and happy birthday to your sister." She said and Timothy smiled. He opened his mouth to thank her, but was interrupted by a crash that road from outside, loud enough to rattle windows and shake the lanterns. Shadows danced violently across the walls.
"The hell was that?" He asked and turned to look at the clerk, "You ok?"
She nodded, "Yes."
"Ok. Stay inside." He told her, putting a military tone in his voice. He didn't want to play it like that, like he was the superhero who barked orders to civilians, but it was how he always spoke in dangerous situations. He grabbed his wrapped book, stuck in under his coat and dashed outside. As soon as his foot splashed onto the wet ground there was another crash, just as loud as the prior, shaking the heavens with its thunder. Timothy raised his hands to his ears and winced, looking up at the sky and trying to pinpoint the source.
An alarm went off, a military call that snapped Timothy to attention. When that alarm rang all cadets, troops and anyone associated with the Windurstian Amy had to report post haste to their respective briefing halls. Timothy bit his lip in concern and took off in the direction of his assigned hall. The fact that the alarm was going off meant one of two things: that there was a full-scale enemy attack or that something pretty goddamned big had gone down…and judging from the noise, that was probably the scenario. All around him people were poking heads out of doors and windows to see what was going on and other army personnel were breaking into runs alongside Timothy, coming out of houses, restaurants and stores.
Timothy ran past his house, it was en route to the briefing hall, and quickly shoved both Aylia's book and letter into the delivery box to pick up later, if there was a later, that alarm had never rang in the six months he had been living here…he only knew what to do because of the training he had upon arriving. So naturally, he was a little bit frightened. What if the crash was the sound of an enemy magic assault, out in Sarutabaruta? Hell, half of the fields out there could be engulfed in flames already and along with them lots of innocents-no. No thinking like that. He gnawed harder on his lip and ran faster, hoping it wasn't as bad as it seemed.
"Am…am I dead?"
"Oh, no…not yet."
"But…but my body…and the airship…"
"You lived, don't worry. You're broken all over, but you lived."
"Shika…oh no, is she ok?"
"She'll be fine. She's a tough kid."
"Wait…who are you? Your voice…it sounds familiar."
"You know me…you will remember in due time. Listen, I can't stay long…just heed my words: protect Shika. If she dies, so does all of Vana'diel. Oh! I have to go…"
"Wait!"
"Sorry…we'll talk again at a later time. I love you!"
"Wait…Islia! Islia, don't go!"
Shika woke up with her hand over her head, covered in something dark and sticky. As she moved it away from her head, something sharp shot up through her body, telling her to keep the head wound covered. She put the hand back on the sticky spot and then opened her eyes, only to close them again immediately as a few raindrops splashed into them. She scowled and tried to use her other hand to shield her face, but it rang with some terrible, roaring feeling and she pressed her teeth tightly together, laying the arm back on the dirt. She lay looking at the grey sky that she could see around her raised hand. She looked at it for what felt like forever, watching the rain fall down around her. She turned her head to look away from the clouds and sawWyli, clutching her stomach and taking shallow breaths as she slept. She had a lot of pieces of the airship spread out on her, the biggest ones lying over her legs.
"What do I do?" Shika though and suddenly felt like she could sleep forever and relaxed her muscles, letting slumber overcome her again.
Timothy got to the briefing hall as soon as his Commanding Officer had started speaking. His CO was a tall, buffer-then-most Mithra who had jet-black hair…Timothy couldn't remember her name nor did he try. There was such an atmosphere of urgency that all he wanted to do was find out what was going on. He squeezed into a space at the end of a bench and clenched his fists as she started talking.
"Listen up!" She shouted to get everyone's attention, which was unnecessary due to the fact that everyone was already glued to every word she was going to say.
"That was an airship, number seven, crashing headlong into northern Tahrongi Canyon. Our outpost reports that it dragged deep as it crashed, spreading its debris for almost two miles. We have already contacted the ships origin port, Jueno's Kazham dock, via linkshell and found out that there were sixty-five people aboard, fifteen of which were passengers. Now, Windurst would help out any airship crash, but this one is in Windurstian territory…our turf. That being as such, everyone here will be issued a linkshell and search area. Jueno has promised to send as many reinforcements as possible…but that may take awhile. So, until then, you will all take you, your linkshell and a chocobo to the site and all work together to secure the sixty-five people aboard, alive or not. We'll be using standard linkshell code for this; no fancy stuff. Understood? Line up and get your assignments."
She saluted and Timothy, as well as the rest of the group, did the same and then all began to bustle to get their linkshells. Timothy pushed around through the crowds, found a line, waited the five something minutes and got to the head of the line, where a small card table had been set up with a large wooden box of linkshells next to it.
"Wessin, Timothy." He said to the issuing Mithra. She nodded, wrote down his name and tossed a silver linkshell at him.
'Lucky you, human." She said, "You get the heart of the beast. Sector A-12."
Timothy saluted, not caring that his race had come into play, and left, almost running to the stables. His heart was pounding at a million miles an hour, almost rattling right out of his chest. His mind was a wash of emotion: worry, fear and…and urgency. He had to get to his searching sector…this was the first big thing to happen to him in Windurst and aside from wanting to prove himself, he was awash with wanting to do right by his position. Over sixty people aboard, he thought. For some reason, maybe the compassion of his heart, he felt bad for them and felt that he had to hurry and get to them to help them…to help the ones he could.
He wouldn't like it at all if anyone died under his watch.
"What…what is this?"
"It's a dream, young Shika. That is your name, right?"
"R-right…what's a dream?"
"A dream is your soul calling to you as you sleep. It is your very essence of life coming to you in its truest form."
"Who are you?"
"I am your missing link. Your mind and memories, all put together."
"Do…do you have a name?"
"…"
"Hello?"
"Wake up, Shika. Wake up and meet your psyche!"
Wyli's entire body felt as though it were engulfed in flames. Her legs were beyond sore…so far so that she could only feel pain emanating from them, with no sign at all of relief. Even the delicate raindrops were explosions against her bruises. The pain of her body extended up through her torso, dulled ever so slightly in her stomach and then rose back to full again in her shoulder and head. She hadn't even opened her eyes, out of fear that they too would hurt or that, God forbid, she had been cast blind. Moving slowly she opened her eyes, but only got halfway before rain forced them closed again. She put her good hand over them and tried again, this time opening them fully. She took a deep breath and looked around, moving her head in tiny arcs left and right. She saw nothing but piles of smoldering wreckage around her, mounds of sharp, broken wood and millions of shards of glass, sparkling in the rain like diamonds in sand. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn't let her. She was just too weak. So instead, she flung her arm out to her right and, like she hoped, felt the tiny body of Shika lying next to her, taking small breaths as she slept.
"Thank heavens."
She took some solace in the fact that Shika was alive…that they were both alive. She never thought, in all her life, that she would have been in an airship crash…and survive! Her mother was never going to believe this…or how it a dragon, a real-life honest-to-God Dragon was almost out of the realm of Wyli's possibilities. She had read about Dragons, yes, but in her storybooks they never said that they might be real and attack an airship with what felt like the purpose of killing a child. Thinking back on it, the fact that it was only after Shika sent a thrill of fear through Wyli, making her body hurt a little more. Why? Why only Shika…? Even weirder was the how the dragon was stopped. Time had seemed to stop…everything frozen in place and then the dragon fluttered off, but not before crushing more of the ship. Why...? Wait. Islia talked to her. It must have been when she was unconscious from the crash that her sister talked to her…there was no other time. She didn't say much, she sounded like she was being rushed, but she did say that if Shika died…all of Vana'diel did as well? Cryptic, but also something that made Wyli even more frightened. What had she gotten herself into, taking on the caring role for Shika?
Today was supposed to be routine…a simple trip to Jueno and back and that was that. Nowhere in her itinerary was 'getting caught in airship crash then lying in the smoking wreckage with countless broken bones'. Wyli closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, suffering through the pain her ribs rang as she did. She was unsure what to do now…should she start calling for help? She didn't know if she had it in her to raise her voice, but she could try. Or did she just lie here and wait for help, which she was sure would come. No matter where the ship crashed (she thought they were over Tahrongi Canyon) one of the three cities would send help, no doubt. At the very least, Jueno would. Also, she had Shika to worry about. She couldn't think about what to do without thinking about her. Shika's legs and arms seemed to be fine, amazingly enough, so if she just waited for her to wake up, then maybe Shika could go for help. That sounded good and all, but what if Shika didn't wake up for a while? The rain was warm, but it could still open the doors to pneumonia or worse—it was a tricky situation.
Something clattered by Wyli's feet and she lifted her head a half-inch off the ground to see some of the rubble start to separate, like something was coming through. Wyli felt incredible relief wash over her: this had to be rescue and that would mean her and Shika would be saved. Saved until they asked what happened.
The rubble separated and a black uniform stepped through, crunching on the glass and debris on the ground. Wyli smiled at it and looked the figure up and down as it came into full view. It was a man, she could tell by his build, and was dressed in black cloth, solid on his torso and wrapped black cloth around his arms and legs, each capped by leather gloves and boots, respectively. She tried to raise her head up more to see his face but couldn't, her neck pulled her back down with an angry pulse of pain. She watched the man take two steps forwards, large steps, much larger then she could imagine…almost as if he was moving so fast that only a few steps could be caught. He stopped on the other side of Shika and leaned down next to her, giving Wyli a clear view of his face. He had auburn hair, ruffled and spread out much like Shika's was and two Mithran ears on top of his head. This was a male Mithra…the rarest of the rare.
"Thanks…" Wyli said weakly, "Thank you…thank you for helping us." Her astonishment at the sight of a male would have to wait. She hurt all over and, if he was here to rescue them, she really didn't care what he was…it could have been a female Galka for all she cared.
The male Mithra smirked and scooped Shika up into his arms. He looked her over left and right and then laughed.
"This…this is what the soul has become? A child? Those ancients do not understand what I am capable of…if they think that imprisoning the soul in the flesh of a little girl will stop me in any way, they are, nay, were sadly mistaken."
Wyli realized with a horror that this man was not here to help them. His voice alone was a giveaway…he used a tone that flared with confidence and contempt. Every word he said like he had been rehearsing it for eons before he spoke it.
"The flesh offers no protection from my will, I'm afraid." He said and flung Shika over his shoulder and starting to walk off. Wyli frowned and opened her mouth.
"Stop!" She yelled, her throat not liking how loud it was forced to work, "Put her back! Don't hurt her! Don't touch her!"
The man stopped and turned on his heel, looking down at Wyli and finally giving her attention.
"I can admit to you, mortal, that I cannot hurt her, nor obtain what I wish, without the key. You can take a little solace in that before you perish." He laughed a little and turned again to leave.
"Stop!" Wyli yelled, making her body erupt in waves or agony.
Thanks to his rushing, Timothy was one of the first to get a chocobo and be on his way. As he dashed along the plains of Sarutabaruta he narrowed his eyes and used a hand to quickly pull the hood of his poncho up (he had gotten it at the stable…he was required to as it had Windurst's emblem on it and a place for his linkshell). He whipped the reins again and the chocobo sped up, warking sorely as it did.
"Sorry, buddy." Timothy said to it and patted its head. He didn't like pushing animals this hard, but he had to get to the airship crash. For some reason, one he couldn't pinpoint, he felt more of an obligation to get there then he did more then anything else in his entire life. It was almost like…like his very soul was pulling him to the crash. Within minutes he had left Sarutabaruta and was in the canyon, the acrid smell of smoke already biting his nose. As he wound his way out of the path that led to the main canyon he gasped in horror. Lying crushed like a sheet of tin in the middle of the canyon was the airship, much bigger then he expected it to be. He didn't stop to look at it from afar though; he kept riding, now careful to get out of the way of the swarm of fellow troops riding behind him.
He rode a little ways then took out his linkshell and squeezed it on. The readout came up immediately, showing the square map of the canyon. The technology was the child of the last hundred years of mages in Windurst and Timothy couldn't be more grateful. He rode onward, the smell of smoke, from burning wood and whatever else was getting stronger. The ship looked like it had been cut into two and then thrown into the ground, explaining the cause of two crashes. Aside from a scant few pieces of the hull that had collapsed inward, one wouldn't be able to tell that it had been a airship…all it was now was a thousand tons of smoldering lumber, spread in a streak of debris across the canyon. Timothy shook his head in disbelief and nudged the chocobo to go faster.
He arrived at, according to the linkshell, sector A-11 within minutes. He looked around and sighed as he realized that A-12 was dead center of the ship.
Heart of the beast, he though, understanding what the issuing Mithra meant. He tucked his linkshell into his poncho pocket and dismounted. He patted the chocobo twice and started towards the pile of debris ahead of him. He lifted up one of the splintery pieces of wood and tossed it to the side. He did that with three more pieces, until he heard a shriek coming from further in the center. He looked up, unable to see over the mountain of wood and then left and right, at the equally-alert Mithra around him, also clearing out debris. Timothy didn't think twice about it and hopped up to climb the rubble, cutting his hands and legs as he did.
"Before I take my leave, mortal, I will say thank you. You brought the soul from it's birth-point to me…I thought I had taken a risk, sending the body to claim it. But, it seems everything worked out in the end."
Wyli took a few deep breaths and, with a crushing pain all through her burning body, flipped over onto her stomach. She lifted herself up with her good arm and reached out her bad arm in a pathetic attempt to re-claim Shika. The man looked at her then smiled.
"You really care for the soul, don't you? If you are willing to dive off the mortal coil just to rescue the false persona you've grown attached to, then I truly pity you."
"Give her back." Wyli, thinking quickly, snatched up a sharp piece of glass below her and whipped it at the man's leg, tossing it the way the chieftain taught her to toss a knife. It didn't fly perfectly, but it did cut the cloth of the man's outfit. He looked down at it and smirked again.
"Your spirit is growing stronger by the minute…" His eyes widened, "Could it be…you? Ha! What perfection this is! To find the last two pieces of my imposing puzzle at the same time…the ancients weren't as wise as they made themselves out to be."
With a movement that Wyli couldn't even see, the man flew forward and brought the heel of his foot into Wyli's forehead, knocking her backwards and down to the ground.
"No wonder you wanted to protect her."
Timothy clambered to the top of the rubble pile and looked down at the perfect circle of a crater in the center of the wreck (how that happened was beyond him). He looked down at just the right time to see a Mithra in black carrying a kid on his shoulder, move at a lighting speed to boot a wounded Mithra in the forehead. Timothy felt his hands clench up and he hopped to the downward slope of the debris pile and started descending.
"I'll claim both of you as my own." The man said and then looked up at Timothy, who slid down to the ground of the circle crater. He met his gaze and Timothy felt something creep though his mind…something almost horrific, but also angelic…the feeling was indescribable, looking at this man.
The Mithra on the ground shook a little as she rose up on one of her arms. She kept her head down and Timothy saw some blood drip from her face.
"Give her back." She said and reached out a bruised and battered arm to latch onto the man's leg. The man frowned and reared back to kick the girl in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground with a scream. Timothy furrowed his brow and started forward, footsteps crunching and splashing. He didn't know any of these people, but this man was obviously a bad guy and, as part of a do-gooder military, he had to help. Also, the feeling that he got from just being around the man, that indescribable whoosh of a feeling…he didn't like it, not one bit…add to that he had a unconscious child on his shoulder and…
"Sir." Timothy said, remembering protocol, "I'm going to have to ask you to put that young lady down." He reached a finger up out of the big poncho sleeve to point at the kid on the man's shoulder. The man looked over at his prisoner and then back at Timothy.
"You have no say over what I do, mortal man. I would have though that a few eons would have wiped humans from the face of the Vana d'iel…tsk…those ancients have too much to pay for now."
With that the man dove forward, still with the girl on his shoulder, over the Mithra on the ground and at Timothy. His foot came up in a slice of a kick and Timothy leapt backwards, barely avoiding the blow. He landed hard with his back on the pile of razor debris and quickly hopped back to his feet, ignoring the field of new cuts that had been poked into his flesh through the poncho. Timothy made fists and hopped at the man, the rain splashing off his arm as he threw a straight-arrow punch. The man slid to the side and brought up his foot again. Timothy saw it coming and bounded up off his feet, cart wheeling to his left and landing perfectly, amazed at himself for doing it. He skipped forward and swung out his leg, swinging wide and string, making contact with the man's ribs, just below the arm he had up and holding the child. He staggered a little and his grip on the kid loosened, giving Timothy a chance. As soon as he had followed through with his wide kick, Timothy switched feet and kicked out again.
The man must have seen it coming though and grabbed it with one hand, stopping the attack. He looked at Timothy, making eye contact again for just a fleeting second then pulled his leg backward and tossed Timothy to the ground a few feet behind him. He slid a few more inches then he would have liked and got much more glass and wood embedded in his hands, but not even a full minute later, Timothy was back on his feet and attacking the man's back with a heavy straight kick. Screw honor, he thought.
Then the man moved, but faster then Timothy could react and he felt his foot cannon into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. Another blow came to his side and almost made him fall, if it weren't for the kick on the other side. The pattern repeated, stomach, side and side, twice more. Somehow, Timothy again amazed at himself, he was still standing. He braced himself for another barrage, but it didn't come, instead, the man appeared in front of Timothy, blurring into place like a ray of light stopping against a mirror. The man tossed a fist at him, as fast as he was before, but Timothy saw it coming. How, he didn't know, but he knew it was coming. So, in a single movement, Timothy weaved to the right and drove a knee into the man's side, hard enough for him to cough and stagger, dropping the girl to the ground. Timothy ignored the child and hit the man again with a lash to the side and then to the stomach. The man fell to his knees and uttered angry nothings, just barely audible.
Timothy smiled, "I'm just better then you." He looked away from the man and went to tend to the girl. He rolled her over onto her back and listened for breath. Once he confirmed she was alive, he slipped off his poncho and covered her with it, the rain feeling cold against his back, burning every slash and slice.
"I won't lose to a human." The man said and Timothy saw him get to his feet. He frowned and went to stand up, when something warm touched his cheek. Timothy looked down and saw the girl looking up at him, her grey eyes shaking with confusion, or maybe pain—Timothy couldn't tell. The man growled and they both looked up at him.
The man took a step forward and there was a blinding white light, so dazzling that Timothy had to cover his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. He heard the man yell and then the sound of what had to be a million trees breaking at once, the sound of wood being demolished. The light vanished and where the man was standing was nothing now, but carven through the stacks of debris was a path, at least fifty feet back. Squinting to see at the end of the path, Timothy saw a flash of black vanish into the rainy sky.
Insane, Timothy thought. Somehow the man had been thrown fifty feet through solid piles of wood, glass and metal…and he lived. What Timothy had gotten into…he didn't know…at least the bad guy went away.
"Who are you?" A voice said and Timothy looked down at the girl, the rain rolling off the hood of the poncho and onto her cheeks, making it look like she was crying. Timothy sighed and took her hand caringly.
"My name is Timothy." He said, "And I'm here to help you….what's your name?"
"It's…its Shika." She bit her lip nervously and pointed at the girl behind him, "Is Wyli alive?"
Timothy let go of Shika and went to check if the Mithra was breathing, which she was, She seemed in bad condition, but with emergency care, she'd be fine.
"She's alive." Timothy said and turned to Shika to get his linkshell from his poncho. She watched him with a fixed gaze as he squeezed it on and talked into it.
"This is Timothy Wessin. I'm at sector A-12, repeat, Timothy Wessin at A-12." He looked at Shika and Wyli then nodded, taking Shika's shaky hand again.
"We have two survivors, both Mithran, dead center, need emergency med care."
This day had started out so normally for him, Timothy thought, how did he end up saving two people's live and sending a speed-freak fighter through fifty feet of rubble? And that flash? What the story was behind this airship and these two was something he couldn't wait to hear.
"Repeat." He said to the linkshell.
"Two survivors, both Mithran."