CHAPTER NINE

MISERY, MISERY

"When were you two bastards going to tell me?" said Terra, looking by lamplight at the charred remains of the monsters on the floor of the great cavern. "When we reached the Returners' hideout? Is that why your little terrorist group wants to use me? How am I supposed to trust you now?"

Locke whistled in mock perplexity and said, "That's quite a list of accusations, kid. Why don't you just relax? I'll tell you all about it." They were all sitting on the floor with the lamps between them. "When I found you in the mountains of Narsha, I knew you were the so-called 'imperial witch' that everybody was talking about. You and two of your fellow magitek knights had obviously tried to attack or capture the frozen Esper—which was stupid as hell, of course, because a frozen god is still a god. Very dangerous. I didn't dare look the Esper in the eye or get any closer than I had to. Anyway, I found three destroyed magitek tanks, two ash heaps (what was left of your comrades), and you. You'd been thrown out of your armor and lay knocked-out in knee-deep snow for who-knows-how-long. But you were alive—I couldn't believe it!—and you didn't have a scratch on you.

"So I took you to Arvis. He guessed, too, that you must be the one they called Terra, the witch in magitek armor, sent on military campaigns that required...uh…firepower...and that fed the Emperor's obsession with magic.

"Well, kid, to tell you the truth, before I got acquainted with your charming personality"—here Locke winked at her—"I thought it best to kill you before you woke up. But Arvis had a different idea. He took it upon himself to nurse you back to health. He said you'd probably been indoctrinated by the Empire when you were very young, and he wanted to see if he could get you to see things from the Returners' point of view. Because if he could, you'd be a powerful ally."

A sudden thought struck Terra. "Arvis...his burns...when I had the fever...did I?" she said with horror.

"You couldn't help it," said Locke. "You were raving. He knew the risks. He continued to take care of you even after you burned him."

Guilt settled in the bottom of Terra's stomach. "Poor Arvis," she said to herself. "I'm so sorry."

Another thing occurred to her. "If you both already knew about my abilities," said Terra, "why were you so shocked just now? Or was that part of the act?"

"It is one thing to hear about your...abilities," said Edgar. "It is quite another to see them. You'll must forgive us, my dear. You were very impressive."

"And scary?" she asked.

"Perhaps a little frightening," said Edgar thoughtfully. "But only at first, my dear."

"Please!" said Locke in mock dismissiveness. "You may be hot stuff, babe; but I can still kick your ass." Locke boxed the air in front of him. They laughed.

"Oh you can, can you?" Terra retorted. "You weren't so tough with sand in your mouth."

So once again things returned to normal between them. Or at least for the moment. Locke and Terra laughed and joked, and Edgar was infected by their joviality, but deep in Terra's heart a sense of isolation was born, which, I'm sorry to say, grew from this moment on. As they came out the other end of the cave and traveled several days towards South Figaro, Locke and Edgar walking in turns in order to let Terra ride their Chocobo, an invisible barrier grew up in Terra's mind between her and her friends. It was made worse by the fact that neither of them seemed to notice it. Whatever she was, she was not exactly human, or at least not like them. For no human was born with the abilities Terra possessed.

And just as luck would have it, the moment Terra that learned of her abilities was the moment she lost them. For indeed, she had used magic before only as a sort of reflex in moments of great fear or strain. She thought with uneasiness how little control she had had over the circle of fire, and how badly it might have gone for her friends. They could have been killed. If all this wasn't bad enough, Terra's nightmares returned. Only now, it was she herself trapped in ice and screaming (her voice the screech of the winged, clawed Esper), watching her friends, Locke and Edgar, burning alive in their imperial armor.

Needless to say, her sleep was troubled and unrestful. She woke up wearier and wearier each morning until finally she fell ill. They could travel very little with Terra sick, and it was slow going. Eleven days' ride to South Figaro turned to thirteen, then fifteen. As sorry as her friends were for her, their lives were in danger, and they required speed, so, on the fifteenth day since they left the cave, they made Terra as comfortable as they could on a small litter which Edgar had constructed. It even had wheels and an apparatus that absorbed some of the shock as it dragged behind their Chocobo. They had to walk beside their birds because they had to go very slow for Terra, who was a pitiful sight indeed. She was pale and taciturn and looked utterly miserable, with her small self bound tightly to the litter.

The bumps caused her pain. She had fever, nausea, and a terrible cough. And she was exhausted, feeling as feeble as a ninety-year-old woman. There was tremendous pressure in her head, which soon threatened to give way to tremendous pain. She was listless, feeling and thinking nothing, but completely preoccupied with enduring her seemingly endless suffering on that rattling trap. What made it worse was the fact that time seemed to move at a snail's pace. She was terribly conscious of each moment of her illness. What made it still worse was that the pain spread from her body to her heart. The pain, quite against her will, made her melancholy and filled her with hopelessness and despair.

And then, as if fate and nature had conspired against her, by noon of that same interminable day, dark clouds rolled in and it began to rain. Now Terra was in real danger, and her friends frantically threw their cloaks and any available extra clothing over her, and Edgar and Locke walked on either side of the litter holding Edgar's great shield over her. Despite all their efforts, she got wet. Her clothes were soaked, and she shivered and her teeth chattered. Her forehead was burning, her body was feeble and sapped for strength, she had a splitting headache and difficulty drawing breath. She was so miserable she even started to cry. Alarmed, Locke and Edgar spurred the Chocobo on faster (which was hard on Terra, and made her feel, if possible, worse) towards a copse of trees, where, thankfully, they found shelter under a huge rock.

Immediately Locke and Edgar set to work building a fire, but the wood was far too damp, and after many frustrated attempts, they succeeded only in getting into a fight with each other. This added guilt to Terra's suffering, since they were fighting because of her. But she was powerless to stop them, for by now she was too weak even to speak.

"No, damn it, you're doing it wrong!" said Locke frantically.

"No, this is the best way," said Edgar, equally alarmed and working tirelessly to kindle a flame.

"You'll smother it before it has a chance to get going!"

"No, log cabin is the best structure for—"

"Well, while you're building your damn log cabin, WE'RE LOSING HER!"

"I can't do this if you're yelling at me!" said Edgar.

"THEN LET ME DO IT!"

"FINE, GODDAMN IT! GO AHEAD!" shouted Edgar. "THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T INSISTED ON MAKING HER TRAVEL WHEN SHE'S SICK!"

That remark cut Locke to the heart, and Terra too. Locke struck the flint so vigorously it looked like a stream of sparks was pouring out of it, but to no avail. Finally, throwing up his hands, Locke turned to Terra, while Edgar resumed his frenzied attempts to start a fire. "Terra," he said gently, feeling her forehead, which was on fire, her face ash gray, and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Terra, we need you to start the fire. Can you do it?" Terra roused a little, turned her head (she was lying on her back) to look at the pile of wet brush and twigs they had collected. She wanted to please Locke even more than she wanted a fire, for she felt terrible for making them so frightened (however justified their fear was, for she was vaguely aware of the peril she was in). She tried to concentrate, but her head was empty and blank, and her migraine was now excruciating, and she soon forgot what she was supposed to be doing. "Terra…please…try!" Locke pled, clearly frightened out of his wits. The cold was overcoming her. Terra was dying, but she didn't have the energy even to fear death. Death was a release from pain. Nevertheless, she made one last effort, furrowing her brow and silently willing the brush to ignite, but the exertion only ended in a fit of coughing and wheezing.

Finally, in desperation, Locke stripped off his wet clothes and quickly undressed Terra down to her undergarment, which were still dry. He lay beside her and wrapped both of them up as best he could. It might have been Terra's chill, but Locke's body certainly seemed to produce a lot of heat.

"Please, God, don't take her from me too!" Locke whispered, trying to maintain control of his voice. At this, Terra was sadder than I can possibly put down in words. She was so sick that she would have wanted to just die and get it over with, were it not for the small measure of comfort in Locke's warm embrace. Like an infant, she nuzzled his chest and cried herself to sleep.