Hmm, war is grim business. Getting down to the bloody basics in this chapter… yay? Anyway, I'm no good at battle tactics so if anything's amiss here kindly overlook it and go with the flow.
Enjoyyyy!
Chapter Fourteen
Red Reflections
i.
"He's doing it again, Your Majesty!"
Garnet looked up from the plans she was surveying and offered a belated grin. Briar and Nell were huddled together side by side, peering down at their queen with large, excited eyes.
"Are you still so besotted with his silly trick?" Garnet inquired and they nodded hesitantly.
"It's just… so daring and… and romantic!" Nell bleated wistfully. "Don't you think so, Your Majesty?"
Garnet snorted and shuffled her plans into something resembling a pile. "Don't tell him that. His reckless nature doesn't need any kind of provocation."
"Come see anyway!" Briar chimed. "Or it'll go to waste!"
Garnet hid a smile and said, "Oh very well," with a nonchalance that was entirely feigned then followed them to the gardens.
It had been two days since Mene had returned with the troubling news of the gathered army and Zidane's reckless scheme to stop Dimi (she had been dismayed by Zidane's rash behaviour, but mostly she was unsurprised), and with only one day left until the barrier was taken down Beatrix had deemed Alexandria plague-free enough to reopen the gardens for Garnet's use. And also, Garnet thought, partly because of Zidane's newfound discovery.
You could stand on top of the barrier.
Garnet stopped in the centre of a grassy expanse and turned her gaze to the vast sweep of midday sky. The shield glistened with colourful rainbows like a dragonfly's wing, and when she shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun she spotted a figure sitting at the peak of the dome, four hundred feet above Alexandria's streets.
Zidane.
"I hope he doesn't fall," Garnet worried for the millionth time.
At his side was Choco, carelessly preening iridescent feathers, and beside the bird was a moogle – probably Mene, though it was impossible to tell from so far away.
Zidane appeared to be looking down into the dome, though his expression could not be determined. Garnet waved hesitantly (a stupid little wave he wouldn't have seen even if he'd been looking intently in her direction) but when Briar and Nell noticed Garnet's lame attempt to contact her prince consort they began jumping around, waving their arms wildly and futilely shouting Zidane's name to the heavens.
He must have been looking specifically for her around the castle grounds, because he spotted the activity almost immediately and waved frantically in return. Despite her initial reservations, Garnet returned his greeting with equal vigour and felt her heart constrict with longing. It had been only a few weeks since he'd held her in his arms, yet it felt like months!
Apparently satisfied, Zidane stood up and turned his attention to the horizon. His stance sent queasy shivers down her spine. She knew that stance. Ready, tense, impatient. He was watching something…Waiting for something…
Waiting for the battle to begin.
Garnet averted her gaze awkwardly and retreated back inside. Nell and Briar followed obediently, sobered by their mistress' mood.
Yet the grim subject could not be pushed aside so easily. She had a meeting to attend with Beatrix and Steiner, so she headed for the Audience Chamber, which had once been the War Room, but Garnet had it renamed and refurnished following the Second Mist War, and now she considered her decision somewhat naïve. It was a small anti-chamber on the middle floor of the castle, the walls lined with framed maps (including the one Cid had given Zidane years ago – the one he had absurdly mistaken for a rag initially, and Garnet swore she'd seen him use it as such on one too many occasion) and was dominated by a heavy witchwood table without chairs. Sitting in a room dedicated to the planning of war seemed too stoic, too negligent, so she'd had them removed.
She dismissed her maids and the guards at the door (they were superfluous in the presence of both Steiner and Beatrix) and her general and captain saluted dourly as she took her place at the head of the table.
There was no need to exchange pleasantries; they would have sounded empty.
"Despite being involved in the Second Mist War," Garnet began sheepishly, "I'm afraid I'm not very good at military strategy and the like… Mother said it was unbecoming of a lady to learn such things…" She cringed at the irony, then added so as not to offend Beatrix and her largely female army, "Well, maybe just for princesses."
"It matters not," Steiner reassured. "Beatrix and I will inform you of our status and you can act as you see fit."
"With our guidance," Beatrix added, with a sweep of her immaculate locks. "Do not fret, Your Majesty."
Garnet nodded and gestured for them to continue.
"There are numerous problems concerning Dimitri's attack," Beatrix began. "Firstly, he actually outnumbers us. Treno has recently reopened its gates but any troops we can recall to the capital wont reach us in time, and Treno will need all the help they can get managing the refugees. Dimitri's force doesn't outnumber us considerably, but it certainly doesn't aid our other problem.
"Dimitri will undoubtedly station his army on the east side of the Great Lake. We will need to cross the lake by boat to reach them, making us easy targets for their archers. I fear we will lose a fair number of soldiers during such an attack."
Garnet's heart sank. "But… surely there's an alternate?"
Beatrix and Steiner exchanged a glance; the latter shrugged. Beatrix said, "Not really. Only the east side possesses the shoreline to allow docking by boat, for the water on other sides is too deep, the soldiers will sink in their armour. The other alternative is to stay put, but obviously that is not a sensible option. Dimitri could easily overwhelm our defences if he tried hard enough, and as we are all aware, the people need food. Allowing a siege is not a good idea."
"We will be sending our own arrows too," Steiner said. "Though the enemy will have a considerable advantage and it will be grisly, I think we will be able to push them back, and then the battle can fully commence."
"Can't we split the troops? Exit via the front of Alexandria then march around the lake, then attack them at both angles?"
"We considered that," Beatrix said, "but Dimitri would spot us marching around the lake and split his own troops, or coordinate a counter attack. Trapping the enemy thus only works if it is unpredicted. Besides, nothing good can come of splitting the troops, few as we are in numbers."
"We should cross the lake as soon as possible, then," Garnet surmised. "Today?"
"Dimitri's troops are only a few hours march away," Beatrix told her. "It's nearly nightfall, so he wont attack, and we'll only manage to get a few squadrons across the lake, at most. They'll be slaughtered, and we don't want to be caught in the dark anyway."
"We'll need the strongest troops on the front line then…" Garnet trailed off. "I guess you'll both be going…?"
Her general and captain nodded. Steiner added, "And we guess Zidane will be throwing himself in first too, regardless of orders."
Garnet's heart constricted. Steiner was right. For the first time she found herself inwardly cursing Dimitri.
"I guess I wont be allowed to join you?" she tried, knowing the answer before it came.
Beatrix confirmed her guess. "We have plenty of white mages at hand, Your Majesty."
Garnet fidgeted with her gown. "Just… Please keep half an eye on him, okay? He doesn't know when to stop –"
"I know, Your Majesty," Steiner intervened her worry. "Besides, that monkey can take of himself."
"We'll keep an eye on the prince," Beatrix promised, shooting Steiner a warning glare. "The most important thing is preventing Dimitri from taking the capital. If they manage to cross the lake, Leviathan –"
"No," Garnet intervened. "I wont. I can't. Not the Eidolons." She hesitated. "I mean… if it comes to it… really, truly comes to it. If the citizens were threatened… But… I couldn't forgive myself. I don't want to make the same mistakes mother did… I'd be no better than Kuja."
They drilled through their battle plans, as stringy as they were, until they heard the sound of trumpets on the battlements, the sign that Dimitri's troops had breached the furthest rise and were less than an hour away from the outskirts of Alexandria's Great Lake.
Garnet couldn't muster the courage to watch their approach, and as night descended she found her dreams were full of blood.
ii.
The morning sky was pale lavender. Ribbons of silver cut through its canvas, cloudless, and the moons were only just beginning to fade. There was a slight chill in the air as the stars winked out one by one, and the fresh sun began to highlight the mountains in gold. The weather promised to be good.
It didn't seem like a day for war at all.
Zidane sat astride Choco, steering him cautiously around the outskirts of Alexandria, a distance away from Dimitri's troops, which camped on the opposite bank. Behind him the town teemed with soldiers. Zidane could imagine the clang of a dozen blacksmiths, hammering out and sharpening any faults in the weaponry. The canals that merged with the lake bristled with boats, and in turn those bristled with soldiers. The bows bumped against Alexander's shield, like dogs pawing at a closed door.
Tearing his eyes briefly from Dimitri's troops (looking nervous but less so than the ones still trapped within Alexandria) he found Beatrix and Steiner standing side by side at the very edge of the bubble. Beatrix was peering through a spyglass across the lake. Steiner had staked the ground with his sword and one hand rested on its pummel. His expression was grim.
Zidane approached them and grinned.
Steiner shook his fist and Beatrix did not appreciate his grin either, it seemed. Instead she attempted to signal the general plan, of which Zidane had pretty much guessed anyway; their options were limited. Beatrix indicated the situation with the archers, and gestured pushing the army back to make room for their own to gain purchase on land.
Zidane rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was going to be bloody, to say the least. But they probably knew that already. He shrugged, and pointed to himself and then at Dimitri's army.
I'll go first.
Steiner rolled his eyes. Beatrix signed, We'll be right behind you.
The general abruptly turned her back on him, and both her and Steiner exchanged words with an Alexandria officer. The officer saluted then ran off in the direction of the castle.
Zidane turned Choco back to face the waiting army, and the bird trilled. He was restless and nervous. He paced almost constantly, fluttering golden feathers like a ruffled mother hen. Zidane petted him.
"Don't think you should join me on the battlefield, buddy," he said. "But you can give me a good head start."
In one hand Zidane twirled Mage Masher, the partner to the one he'd had confiscated during his skirmish with Dimitri's troops a few days ago. He'd thought of bringing Ultima Weapon (mounted on a wall in Alexandria Castle, unlike his other weapons which were in an unorganised bundle at the bottom of a treasure chest under Dagger's bed) but decided that thief swords were too cumbersome in close combat, especially when assaulted on all sides, as he undoubtedly would be. Besides, Mage Masher was his favourite and most trustworthy weapon. He'd stolen it from Baku and it had served him well all through the war.
There was an unexpected surge of magic in the air then, enough to make the hairs on his arms stand on end, and he turned round on Choco's back to cast Beatrix and Steiner a bewildered look. Yet they were nowhere to be seen, and all the soldiers were waiting in the boats, ready and armed.
The surge came again, and this time it was paired with a distinct smell of oranges.
Dagger.
It was rumoured that when a white mage cast a spell it brought with it a smell unique to that individual. He'd always scoffed at such silly a notion, but when he first started travelling with Dagger and had been the subject of many a cure, he swore to all the gods above he smelt oranges every time her magic danced through his veins (sometimes he thought he smelt parsley when Eiko cast, but for some reason he was much more attune to Dagger's scent). But this time the smell of oranges was underlined with something else, oil and musty feathers and burning (Alexander?) and quite suddenly the great shield rippled, as if made of water.
The ripples travelled downward soundlessly, and disappeared when they reached the ground. Then, starting from the top, the barrier began to dissolve. Like a veil being slowly drawn back from the face of a bride, the magic disappeared and Alexandria was released from its confines.
Zidane had only a moment to ponder this before he heard the shout of an Alexandrian soldier - perhaps even Beatrix herself – and the first boat shot out of the canal and breeched the lake.
Zidane yelled and spun Choco around, facing Dimitri's army. The soldiers were hurrying into formation, small figures in the distance scurrying to reach the shoreline. Zidane even thought he spotted Dimitri mounted on a war chocobo, charging behind the forming ranks, but he was unsure.
Upon seeing his foe, Zidane felt a surge of adrenalin. Now or never, his mind thundered, and he drew his other dagger and charged across the lake to meet them.
iii.
Choco was considerably faster than the boats that splashed and cavorted through the tideless lake. Dimitri's troops were prepared, but still not entirely ready for the speed of the chocobo, so Zidane steered the bird toward the less organised of the ranks. As soon as he was within range the first arrow whistled past his shoulder and he winced, spurred Choco faster. The bird squawked and the first line of soldiers loomed close. Arrows bit the air and disappeared into the lake, one nicked his arm, another his thigh, but there was no obtrusive damage, and as the land finally came within jumping distance, Zidane stood on Choco's back and leapt –
The archer staggered backwards as Zidane landed a blow to his chest. He fumbled hopelessly with his bow but by then it was too late; Zidane's dagger was faster. The archers lining the shore turned on him, bemused and furious at once, and with godly speed Zidane twirled, moved and slashed through the flimsy wood and string of their weapons, rendering them useless.
Further up shore, more archer's turned their attention to him, and this time an arrow thudded beneath his shoulder blade with enough force to topple him backwards. The soldiers would have been on him in seconds if not for his tail, which he used as a spring to prevent him falling completely to the earth. He found his feet again without ever truly losing them, and grinned like a feral cat at the line of soldiers blinking stupidly at him.
"The Alexandrians!" a furious bellow came from somewhere along the line. "Defend the shore, you idiots!"
The archers who had trained their sights on Zidane hurriedly turned back just as the first boats came within range and Beatrix's archers let loose. It could have been fatal for Zidane, but Beatrix had witnessed his landing sight and directed her archers away, quick thinking that Zidane was eternally grateful for.
They're mine, was Zidane's adrenalin-fuelled thought as he cut down those archers that had foolishly turned their backs on him to return fire. He darted along the line best he could, dodging and parrying any blade that tried to apprehend him, and he cut down archer after archer until the foot soldiers were forced to aid their falling comrades.
Arrows thudded into the ground around him. One nicked his cheek and as he winced a soldier caught him with the flat of her shield, knocking him sideways and causing bright sparks to hinder his vision. He caught himself just before he hit the ground and cart wheeled one handed, kicking the soldier in his path in the stomach before regaining ground.
Swords abruptly rained around him. He had time to wish for Vivi's black magic before thought was replaced completely with battle honed instinct, primitive impulse spurring him forward into their ranks as they fell one by one beneath his daggers.
There was a commotion behind him (he dared not turn round) but it seemed the first troops had landed. Dimitri's foot soldiers surged forward as the archers fell back, and still Beatrix's army clouded the sky with arrows, like swarms of angry bees.
Zidane dodged and weaved his way through the ranks, his arms and torso now crisscrossed with shallow cuts. His mind was dangerously sharp, each agile manoeuvre as essential as it was deadly; he left a trail of corpses in his wake and those that had survived disembarking the boats filled these gaps like blood seeping through a wound.
Yet Zidane was always ahead, and eventually he found himself entirely surrounded, and with each soldier he cut down it seemed another two would take their place. He could not risk maintaining combat with just one foe; every time he turned he left his back open for assault, and for that he paid the price.
As he turned to cut down another, a blade slashed across his back. The cut was deep and Zidane was propelled forward, breathless from the fresh, rich pain, and he almost landed on another's blade. He managed to swerve sideways, twisting Mage Masher in his grasp and severing a wrist. But he stumbled and it suddenly dawned on him that he was tiring. Had Beatrix's troops gained substantial purchase on the ground? Or was it just he, fighting alone amidst this enormous army of usurpers?
For a brief second, the impossibility of fighting so many soldiers alone dawned upon him.
Then the surrounding soldiers advanced. The air stank of blood and the sound of metal on metal, cries, screams, gurgles, curses and prayers was a brutal melody on the early morning tide.
Not a few seconds had passed but his moment of contemplation had him distracted, and suddenly the soldier to his right lunged forward. Zidane whirled in an attempt to parry, but the angle was all wrong and his dagger was thrown aside by the force of the blow. Pain shot up his wrist and arm, and before he had a chance to swing his other weapon the soldier was upon him, shoving him to the blood soaked grass. A foot missed crushing his head by mere inches, but he hardly noticed, eyes fixed on the visage of his killer, face a blur of unthinking hate as they raised the blade high and –
Their eyes lost focus and a gurgled sigh escaped their lips. Unexpected, for there was no one behind him, and it was only as the soldier slumped forward on top of Zidane that he abruptly noticed the spear protruding from his chest.
Spear…?
"Hello, you," Freya greeted sedately as she kicked the corpse off him.
"F-F-Freya!" Zidane stammered hysterically.
The Dragon knight was clad head to toe in her clan's armour, silver fur matted with blood, none of it appearing to be her own. She yanked him to his feet wordlessly, the slightest of smiles tugging at her muzzle, then she jerked her spear free of the corpse's back.
"What are you doing here?" Zidane yelled above the ruckus, eyes constantly darting for imminent attack as he recovered himself.
Freya took a moment to deliver a deciding blow to a foe, and as she spun round to confront another she quickly answered, "Helping a friend."
Zidane felt a warm stab of inexpressible gratitude and paused to grasp Freya's forearm. She returned the gesture in a warrior's greeting, then diverted her attention to more deadly matters.
Zidane shouted, "You came by yourself?"
"Of course not," the knight snorted. "I brought along my squadron and Frately brought his."
"Frately?"
As if to answer Zidane's bellowed question, a dragon knight clad in golden armour leapt into the azure sky. His attention was not directed at Zidane however, and suddenly he was lost amid the soldiers again, having plunged spear-first into their ranks.
Damn Freya, I owe you one.
Suddenly awash with renewed energy, Zidane returned to battle with vigour, wielding just a single dagger now, yet more dangerous in his capable hands than in any of the soldiers surrounding him. Through the gaps, Zidane spotted a handful of Burmecians, and Beatrix and Steiner, fighting side by side with expressions that were unutterably pained. They cut down their own men, Zidane knew, and he grimaced at what they must be enduring internally, for he knew he could never cut down another thief, let alone his own brothers.
And as his gaze rested briefly on Steiner (unstoppable and merciless despite the kin he cut down), a thought hit him with more force than a hundred arrows.
If Steiner was here, who was protecting Dagger?
The battle whirled around him but his thoughts were abruptly derailed. He parried a blow, disarmed another soldier, and finished another with a quick flick of the blade, and he tried to convince himself that she was safer in the castle than anywhere, barricaded behind walls and undoubtedly surrounded by a squadron of soldiers.
A squadron.
Pluto knights or foot soldiers?
Officers?
Would they give their lives for their queen?
Was Dagger even doing what she was told, and staying put?
Was she safe? Was she hurt? Was she scared?
Where was Dimitri?
A blade slid past his defence and bit deep into his side. He yelled and pulled back, then lashed out until the soldier fell to his feet in a fountain of blood.
"Watch yourself!" Freya snapped to his right, but he caught her concerned frown beneath the lip of her helm. "What's wrong with you?"
Zidane momentarily lowered his dagger, lips pursed. "I… I have to go back to the castle. Something's not right."
"Garnet?" Freya questioned.
Zidane nodded and gripped her arm again. "Take care, Freya! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Freya snorted disdainfully, then leapt into the air to a height only Burmecians could dream of reaching. From her vantage point she readied herself then descended again in a furious rush, spear a heartbeat ahead of her. The surrounding Alexandrians that weren't skewered scrabbled to get away, and Zidane spotted the opening she'd made for him and dived through.
Inevitably the gap closed moments later with a phalanx of fighting bodies, but he pushed and cut his way back to the bank, which was piled high with dead. Bodies floated in the water, spreading crimson shapes across the lake.
Zidane whistled as loud as he could, once, twice, and just as an enemy made for him once more, Choco obediently appeared and squawked a warning at Zidane's opponent, causing him to back up substantially, sword quivering in his grip.
Zidane seized this relapse to mount the bird, then they were away again, speeding from the larger battle toward a castle whose reflection shimmered ominously red in the bloodied water.