Chapter Ten

Al de Baran On Fire

Mikieru and Jared got up and began the ride to Al de Baran an hour before the sun rose. Neither said much during the ride over the Mjolnir Mountain Range. Both of them knew that today, their questions would be answered—and that this day might be their last.

Jared's worst fears came to manifest when, after eight hours of riding, they crested a ridge over the Al de Baran's bare foothills and beheld the Machine City for the first time.

Al de Baran was not a city by any means—it was a loose conglomeration of coal mining villages that grew on the Mjolnir foothills and bonded together under a Steward. Houses, which were little more than glorified hovels, were grouped in clusters that rose from the low wall around the front and sides of the Machine city towards the mountainside behind it. The ancient Clock Tower, which was Al de Baran's only bow to vanity, could be seen faintly from where Mikieru and Jared stood—if one squinted enough to see it through the rising pillars of smoke and dust.

Northfolk and migrants from the Republic of Schwartzvald have been settling in the villages in and around Al de Baran centuries before Prontera was established as the Capital of the Northern Realms. If it weren't for the founding of the Payon Shogunate and Prontera's commercial satellite, Izlude, Al de Baran might have been worthy of holding the title of Capital over Prontera. Its distance from the Midgard trade routes proved to its disadvantage, however, and Al de Baran had to settle with the reputation of being a Machine City, where coal miners, inventors, and potion alchemists made their living in quiet, indifferent solitude.

Now, however, Jared mournfully noted the absence of Al de Baran's standards flying over the perimeter fortifications. They had been replaced by black banners bearing white swords and gavels—the new insignia, he surmised, of the Old Occultists.

"We're here," Jared exhaled.

"Yes," Mikieru answered just as quietly.

"Are you scared?"

The Cleric took a moment before answering. "If this is the judgment I get for what I have done in the past, then I probably deserve it."

Jared glanced at his friend dourly. "C'mon," he said, disbelieving. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Mikieru lowered his eyes as he gave his reply. "You know, Jared… if you asked me that question five months ago, I would tell you that I was right. But that was five months ago. Back then, I had not met Shin-ju, and my past sins had not yet surfaced and faced me. Now… I would try to convince the both of us that this indeed is my judgment, if only to derive some semblance of sense from this madness."

The Merchant stared at Mikieru for a few moments before turning to look at the Machine City once more. "Well, it's done then," he sighed. "I guess I ought to take this opportunity to thank you for doing this?"

An audible chuckle escaped Mikieru's lips, and Jared turned to look at him again. The Cleric had a slight smile when they looked at each other.

"Save it for the ride home, Jared," the Cleric said, flicking the reins on his Peco-peco. "This may be my judgment, but it does not change the fact that I will do everything I can."

The Merchant watched as Mikieru rode down the ridge towards Al de Baran's front gate-house. Then he allowed himself to laugh a little, also trying to convince himself that in some way, somehow, they would be able to survive this.

•••

A horrid scene met them as they approached the front gates. The bodies of slain Knights and Constables were tied and raised on pikes that lined the approach to the gate. Jared gaped at the bodies, his hand over his mouth in dread, while Mikieru rode ahead, seemingly oblivious to the bodies and the smoke and the stench.

As if on cue, the solid oaken gates opened, pulled open by men in black bandanas. Mikieru and Jared rode through as though they expected it, drawing stares and jeering glances from the armed Occultists lining the streets.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, Jared thought apprehensively, eyeing the Occultists from under his hood. I never knew Garrione mustered this many Occultists… but how?

Mikieru stared straight ahead, on the browning cobblestone road that rose towards Clock Tower square. Occultists dotted his peripheral vision, but he paid no mind. He knew he would come to no harm until he reached the square—he knew Garrione too well. The Knight-Mage would not cheapen his quest for vengeance—or, as Garrione would unendingly insist, justice—by stabbing Mikieru and Jared in the back.

The sight carried on for a while, until Mikieru and Jared rode into the confines of Clock Tower square. The Merchant took off his hood to look up at the crumbling edifice at the end of the square—the face of the clock read five minutes to twelve.

Mikieru slowed his Peco's pace to a trot, and Jared followed. They took time to notice that the Occultists were coming into the square seemingly from all directions. Everyone was here to watch their leader crush the two people standing between them and their goal.

The Cleric and the Merchant stopped at a point about a hundred paces from the steps of the Clock Tower. They waited. The Occultists settled into mobs around the square, eagerly waiting to see their leader.

And as the clock struck twelve, the bell tolled loudly—and the oaken double-doors slowly creaked open.

Garrione stepped out to be greeted by a loud cheer given by the Occultists. Jared shuddered at the sight of the seven-foot tall Knight-Mage, but Mikieru only tightened his lips.

The Knight-Mage was clad in his gold full-plate mail, and Sinjustice was in one hand. A long black cape billowed behind him as he descended the stone steps, followed by an entourage of burly Occultist bodyguards.

Garrione had a smirk on his lips. He reached the end of the stairs and stood there, his cape flying in the filthy wind, the large black blade of Sinjustice in full view for everyone to see. To Jared's puzzlement, Garrione said nothing while his bodyguards moved away from their master and formed a group about thirty meters to the Knight-Mage's right.

When his bodyguards stopped, Garrione turned to Mikieru and spoke for the first time.

"I knew you would not let me down, Kitsune," he called. "You are no coward."

Mikieru shook his head calmly. "I am not here for your sake, Garrione," he answered.

"Oh?" the Knight-Mage laughed. "Excuse me, then. I was always under the impression that, in the eternal battle between good and evil, Priests are always the first to take up arms."

Mikieru was not swayed. "Are you evil?"

"It depends," Garrione mocked, raising Sinjustice's blade to point at the Cleric. "Do you believe you are good?"

The Cleric cringed at Garrione's mocking mind games. He shook his head in annoyance and decided to go straight to the point.

"Look, I have no desire to talk to you," Mikieru said. "Where is she?"

"Oh?" Garrione laughed again, clearly enjoying having Mikieru at his mercy. "So she is your charge, now?"

"You claimed she lives," came the Cleric's impatient reply. "Where is she held?"

The Knight-Mage decided he had enjoyed himself enough, and he turned his head to nod at his bodyguards.

Unquestioningly, the burly Occultists parted to reveal, shackled in their midst, a distraught female Elf.

Jared lurched forward on instinct. "NAPOLDE!" he screamed. He made the attempt to ride towards her, but was held back by Mikieru's gloved hand on his chest.

Napolde raised her face to Jared. Her face looked as though she had been crying. She gave him the look of one betrayed and weakly lipped the words to him:

Why did you come back?

At Garrione's hand command, the Occultists unlocked the chains from her neck and wrists. They took their hands from her and slowly walked away, leaving her standing alone.

Mikieru's eyebrows knotted at this gesture. What is the meaning of this? he thought.

Jared could not hold himself back. Tears brimming in his eyes, he shoved Mikieru's arm aside and galloped towards her.

"NAPOLDE!" Jared screamed.

"NO!" Napolde screamed back.

"JARED, DON'T!" Mikieru shouted, too late.

Grinning evilly, Garrione lifted Sinjustice over his head, swung it in circles, and threw it in a downward slash aimed in Napolde's direction. Almost instantly, everyone in Clock Tower square felt the violent movement of elemental mana as it centered around Napolde.

A bright flash—and a roaring, searing heat—exploded into life around Napolde. Jared's Peco squawked loudly and reared up, throwing the Merchant off the saddle. Jared got up on his elbows and knees as Mikieru rode up beside him, and both of them gaped in fear at the tall tongues of flame that leaped upward from Napolde's position.

"NO!" Jared yelled desperately. "NAPOLDE!"

"Jared!" Napolde's voice came from behind the flames.

Mikieru squinted from behind his dark glasses. Through the leaping flames, he barely made out the Elf's form—on her knees, but alive. The flames seemed to form a ring on the ground around her, preventing any hope of escape or rescue.

Garrione laughed loudly. "And you call yourself a Merchant, Wycrow? You should know better than anyone else that nothing in this world is free!"

Jared turned to Garrione with angry, teary eyes. "You BASTARD!" he yelled.

"You know what is needed to free her, Wycrow! Give me the Stone!"

In a total loss, Jared carelessly patted his jacket for the Stone—and Garrione immediately concluded that the Stone was on the Merchant's person.

From behind the flames, Napolde heard Garrione's demand. Helplessly, she craned her neck and wailed, "Jared, please DON'T!"

Panicked, Jared put both hands over the inside pocket where he hid the Stone, bewilderedly looking between Garrione and the ring of fire surrounding the Elf.

"She will suffocate in fifteen minutes, Wycrow! Do not delay her release!" Garrione yelled.

Jared looked away and shut his eyes tight. "Sh-shut up!" he yelled, shaking his head.

"Jared, do not give it to him! PLEASE!" Napolde begged, sobbing loudly.

"Fifteen minutes! She will die for your indecision, Wycrow! Surrender it!" Garrione's bellow came again.

"SHUT UP!" Jared bared his teeth, placing his hands over his ears.

"JARED, NO!" the Elf whimpered helplessly.

"She dies, Wycrow!" the Knight-Mage screamed. "Refuse to submit and her death is yours!"

•••

"SHUT UP!"

Jared opened his eyes in surprise. Slowly he lifted his head from his hands and looked up, trying to see who said those two words.

Mikieru had dismounted and now stood between Jared and Garrione. The Knight-Mage frowned at the sight of the Cleric, watching with narrowed eyes as Mikieru took a few steps towards him, taking the Redeemer into his hands.

"No one dies today, Garrione!" the Cleric yelled loudly. "I challenge you!"

The Knight-Mage stared at his old ally with mild anger. He exhaled in exasperation, shaking his head. "What are you doing, Kitsune?" he asked. "You do nothing but accept the judgment of those above you, even when you know you have done nothing wrong. You perpetuate the injustice by not taking action, and instead you decide to stand against that which would be your saving grace!"

Mikieru raised the Redeemer. "Your hands do not hold my redemption, Garrione," he finished. "It holds nothing but the fire of your greed."

Now Garrione was visibly furious. He raised Sinjustice and summoned flames onto its black blade.

"You would do well not to insult me again, Kitsune," he warned as he and Mikieru faced off. "Nothing… and no one… stands in my way."

Mikieru fixed his gaze on the Knight-Mage even as he gave his final instructions to Jared.

"Jared, do me one favor," the Cleric said calmly. "Move away. Do not find yourself in a position where you are closer to Garrione than I am. And do not worry… this will all be over in fifteen minutes."

•••

Mikieru attacked first. With his right hand, he charged a pulsating ball of Holy Light and flung it towards Garrione's face. The Knight-Mage jumped aside, the orb flying past him and smashing into the Clock Tower's stone steps and demolishing a part of the concrete railing. Garrione grimaced as he eyed the damage—he had no trouble avoiding the spell's line of fire, but he also knew that even his armor would not be strong enough to deflect its power.

Garrione turned his eyes back to Mikieru as he landed on the ground. The Cleric had vanished from his position. Wide-eyed, the Knight-Mage twisted around and instinctively raised Sinjustice in front of his face in defense. Mikieru was already beside him, already in mid-swing of a one-handed backhand Redeemer smash. The iron head met Garrione's flaming sword, thwarted.

The Cleric's face showed no emotion as he maintained his lightning attack. He moved forward, swinging the Redeemer in arcs and trading blow after mighty blow with Sinjustice. Garrione was pressed back into defense, managing to halt Mikieru's onslaught when his flaming sword managed to catch the Cleric's long mace on its way down to his head.

Garrione held Sinjustice with two hands as he pushed Mikieru's heavy weapon away from his face. Mikieru twisted as he moved backwards, revealing another ball of Holy Light charging in his right hand. His back to the Knight-Mage, he threw the pulsing ball of light towards Garrione's face with a flick of his wrist. The Knight-Mage ducked to avoid the Holy Light ball, only to see Mikieru's boot rising towards his unprotected face.

Mikieru's roundhouse kick slammed into Garrione's jaw, and the Knight-Mage staggered backwards with a grunt.

The Cleric planted both his feet on the ground and lunged towards Garrione, the Redeemer held horizontally behind him in his left hand, his right hand leading the attack in front of him.

Too quickly, as if in momentary desperation, Garrione raised Sinjustice and looked though its ornate hilt. The tongues of flame enveloping the blade grew larger as the Knight-Mage summoned a Fire Bolt spell.

Sharp bolts of fire emerged from the flaming blade and whipped towards the rapidly-approaching Mikieru. The Cleric was too close, giving the fire bolts little time to adjust their trajectories, and Mikieru lightly leaped over them and threw the Redeemer in a downward smash aimed at Garrione's temple. Garrione, not recovering fast enough, threw his blade upwards in defense. He managed to block the Redeemer smash, but Mikieru was able to land on the ground and throw a side-thrust kick into Garrione's armored midsection. Once again, the Knight-Mage was thrown a few steps backward.

•••

The Occultists who were watching roared in fury.

Jared manage to smile a bit, his eager eyes watching every precise move that Mikieru executed.

Garrione spat angrily as they faced off again. Mikieru had somehow seen through his fighting strategy. The Cleric was alternating throwing his Holy Light spells and attacking in close range, giving the Knight-Mage little time to recover and launch a calculated attack. This was Garrione's one weakness—while his zeal for fighting was unmatched, he was not much of a tactician.

•••

Damn it, the Knight-Mage fumed quietly. Kitsune hides his true skill. I cannot defeat him at this rate…

In front of him, Mikieru assumed another attacking stance—Redeemer in left hand, a crackling ball of Holy Light in his right. Garrione had no doubt that Mikieru would score another hit if they faced off now—and this time, there was no telling the hit would not be fatal if Mikieru willed it to be.

Garrione raised Sinjustice in front of his face and looked through its hilt. "I do not have time for this," he muttered.

Mikieru squinted, looking at Garrione's familiar pose.

Napalm, Mikieru thought quickly. I am fast enough to outrun it. When I attack when Garrione opens his mouth…

Garrione's mouth opened to utter the Napalm incantation. At that instant, Mikieru charged forward, carried by his Blessing-enhanced speed.

"It is OVER!" Mikieru yelled.

The Cleric sprinted towards Garrione with incredible speed, the Redeemer and a fully-charged Holy Light orb poised to strike.

While uttering the incantation, Garrione opened his eyes and looked straight ahead—past the approaching Cleric. Mikieru's eyes widened when he felt the violent swirling of mana that accompanied with every Napalm spell, realizing that it wasn't centered in front of him…

…it was focused at a point a good distance behind him.

He is aiming at Jared! Mikieru thought madly. But HOW? He is outside Garrione's range!

Instantly, Mikieru shot his foot forward and skidded low on the stone floor, violently flinging his arms and throwing both the Holy Light orb and the Redeemer towards Garrione's inanimate form. The Cleric did not even wait to see if he hit the Knight-Mage—he immediately spun and sprinted towards Jared.

Garrione ducked, avoiding the long mace and crackling ball of antimatter as they passed over his head, never once taking his eyes off of Jared.

"JARED!" Mikieru screamed.

The Merchant's eyes widened as he watched Mikieru run towards him, both fists clenched on his chest. A moment later, Garrione completed the incantation, swung Sinjustice in circles, and shouted out the name of the spell as he threw the flaming blade downward:

"FIRE WALL!"

Mikieru reached Jared and turned around just as a huge fireball exploded around the two of them. Garrione took a step backward, looking away from the glare of the orange pillars of flame that rose towards the sky.

•••

Within her own prison of flame, Napolde felt the ethereal indications of another Fire Wall spell cast—and she sensed it was cast at Jared. She tried to scream his name, only to cough violently from the thick black smoke.

•••

When the original blast of fire weakened to a steady roar, the flames shortened enough to reveal Mikieru and Jared. Garrione smirked, truly amused by what he saw.

The Cleric was down on one knee, both his arms extended to his sides. His hands were open in a splayed manner, desperately holding onto two simultaneous Kyrie Eleison spells. This was an advanced application of the Kyrie Eleison defensive spell—to cast two of the clear shields together at the same time to form a formidable barrier that could deflect even magical energy to a certain extent. While the sphere shield managed to protect them from the ring of flame, holding it in place for longer than a few moments required a great deal of strength and mana—if Mikieru was anyone else, he would have succumbed to the exertion and released the spell prematurely, killing himself and Jared instantly.

Mikieru was gasping for air. "What is this?" he spat. The flames surrounding them continued to roar with frightening intensity.

Garrione laughed, knowing that he had pinned Mikieru in one place. "You are a formidable foe, Kitsune," he admitted. "If you did not throw your weapon and that Holy Light spell at me, I might have been able to finish the incantations one second sooner, and you and Jared would have been the first to taste my justice. But, it seems, you are intent to avoid your judgment to your last breath."

Mikieru winced as a small portion of the transparent sphere shield began to crack from the intense heat.

"Mike!" Jared yelled, groping in vain into his bags for anything to help the Cleric. "Hang in there!"

Garrione laughed again, hearing Jared's words. "Yes, indeed," he mocked. "Hang in there for as long as you can. Sinjustice's Fire Wall lasts fifteen minutes. Do you think your little protection spell can last as long?"

Mikieru bared his teeth defiantly, sweat dripping off his face while he watched Garrione raise Sinjustice once more.

Garrione's smile faded. He was about to summon another malevolent spell that would without a doubt finish off the Cleric and the Merchant, yet he simply allowed himself to look at the two for a moment longer.

The three old friends maintained their stares at each other for a few moments, as if the situation was a stalemate when it actually wasn't.

The Knight-Mage sighed in resignation, raising Sinjustice above his head.

"Goodbye, my friends," he muttered. "Your cowardice has become your undoing. I truly wish it did not have to end this way."

Mikieru and Jared looked on helplessly as Garrione gathered mana—and flames—into Sinjustice. In another moment, Garrione would complete the incantation for Sinjustice's most potent spell yet…

•••

"The coward threatens when he is safe!"

Imprisoned in her cage of fire, Napolde still managed to hear the voice of challenge—and she opened her eyes in time to see, past the flames that snapped around her, a boy jump over the mobs of bewildered Occultists and her two trapped rescuers.

Garrione stopped in mid-sentence of his incantation, caught off-guard by the shrill, out-of-place voice that jabbed sharply at his repute. He opened his eyes in time to see the form of a young boy, seemingly to just have fallen from the sky, land on his feet in front of Mikieru and Jared.

Likewise, the Cleric and the Merchant stared at the youth who had leapt over their heads from behind and was now slowly getting to his feet, facing the Knight-Mage across the Clock Tower square.

"No," Mikieru whispered in disbelief.

"You desire justice?" the boy challenged the Knight-Mage. "Deal with the victim."

At once, Jared recognized the boy. The Merchant did not need to see the tan on his skin or the blue hair on his head—his voice and his fiery demeanor was all Jared needed.

Garrione looked on with noticeable incredulity at the form of the boy, forebodingly silhouetted by the tongues of flame that enveloped Mikieru and Jared behind him. The fire threw long black shadows that danced in front of the boy's feet, making him seem larger and more intimidating than he truly was.

"What is this?" Garrione demanded to know. "Who addresses me?"

The boy glared at the Knight-Mage with intense gray eyes as he gave his answer.

"My name is Shin-ju Yang," the Nomad boy answered. "And justice is to be had today, not by you… but by me."

"You dare?" Garrione fumed, pointing Sinjustice at Shin-ju. "Ah, but I do recognize you. You are Kitsune's protégé, yes? How wonderfully mad of you. Do you truly believe an insignificant worm like yourself can stop me? You will have no victory here, Shin-ju Yang, not when I am so close to achieving my purpose!"

Mikieru lurched forward and screamed. "Shin-ju! Do not do this! He will kill you if you fight him!"

Hearing Mikieru's words, Shin-ju's visage softened. He lowered his head, allowing his blue hair to fall over his eyes. He was silent for a moment, as if sorting his emotions before airing his side.

"I'm dead," Shin-ju muttered, only loud enough to be heard by Mikieru and Jared. "Or dying, it doesn't matter. Who's to say I didn't die three years ago in that forsaken wasteland of Sograt? What I intend to do right now is to get my answers… from you, Senpai. Then, if I die by his sword, I'll take comfort from the fact that my death this time around has more purpose than the death I went through three years past."

Mikieru listened to Shin-ju, only to shake his head slightly after. "Shin-ju, what are you saying?"

Shin-ju looked over his shoulder, and the Cleric saw the boy's gray eyes staring straight into his.

"Hold on to the Kyrie Eleison shield for as long as you can, Senpai," Shin-ju answered coldly. "I have questions for you."

Mikieru and Jared stared at Shin-ju, mystified and taken aback by the boy's order. They said nothing, even as Shin-ju turned back to Garrione and began taking steps towards the Knight-Mage.

"Garrione!" Shin-ju yelled. "Release them… all three of them… or I will make you."

A smirk escaped the Knight-Mage's lips, and he began laughing openly. "You?" he guffawed. "You will make me? You are as audacious as your vaunted Master, Shin-ju Yang, and maybe twice as deluded. Very well, then… make me, Shin-ju Yang. Who am I to deny you of your death-wish?"

Garrione began walking towards Shin-ju as well. "I will get my justice… and the Stone… this day."

Then they stopped. The Knight-Mage raised Sinjustice, and flames roared to life along its long, black blade.

Shin-ju raised his clenched fists in a bare-handed fighting stance, and a bluish-white glow slowly emanated from his body as his Blessing trance came into effect.

It was only a few seconds before the battle between the Knight-Mage and the Cleric's Apprentice began.