Disclaimer: Again, I should say that the realm of the dead depicted in this chapter is FICTIONAL and has no bearing on anyone's beliefs.
The Prince
Tarot XIX - Sun
The Fool wakes at dawn from his long, restless night to find that the wild river has, at last, come to an end, quietly floating him into a serene pool. There is a walled garden around this pond dominated by roses, lilies and splendid, nodding sunflowers. Stepping ashore, he watches the Sun rise overhead, bright and golden. The day is clear. A child's laughter attracts his attention and he sees a little boy ride a small white pony into the garden.
"Come!" says the little boy, leaping off the horse and running up to him. "Come see!" And the child proceeds to take the Fool's hand and enthusiastically point out all manner of things, the busy insects in the grass, the seeds and petals on the sunflowers, the way the light sparkles on the pond. He asks questions of the Fool, simple but profound ones, like "Why is the sky blue?" He sings songs, and plays games with the Fool.
At one point the Fool stops, blinking up at the Sun so large and golden overhead, and he finds himself smiling, wider and brighter than he has in a very long time. Since he started on this spiritual journey, he has been tested and tried, confused and scared, dismayed and amazed. But this is the first time that he has been simply and purely happy. His mind feels illuminated, his soul light and bright as a sunbeam. Like the great Sun itself, this child with his simple questions, games and songs, has helped the Fool see the world and himself anew, to wonder at and appreciate both. "Who are you?" the Fool asks the child at last. The child smiles at this and seems to shine. And then he grows brighter and brighter until he turns into pure sunlight. "I am you," the boy's voice says throughout the garden, "The new you." And as the words fill the Fool with warmth and energy, he comes to realize that this garden, the sun above, the child, all exist within him. He has just met his own inner light.
SKY ISLE MUSPELM
Fourteen days after the rebellion army had apparently disappeared into thin air and so eluded the 6th legion and its acting general, Rauny Vinzalf surveyed their attack force with a pride that she might have found shameful under different circumstances.
Though there could be no sign of where they were until they actually departed from Muspelm, the anticipation she could feel rising up from each division did much to wash away the niggling doubts she did have:
Were they ready?
Was this the right place to strike?
Was she prepared to fight and kill her own people?
Seeking solace, she returned to the far left side, taking in each group slowly by the look in the eyes of each division leader.
It was perhaps Saradin Carm who had shown the greatest surprise, standing astride a pair of golems he had salvaged from Albeleo's underground lab and pieced together bit by bit over the weeks. "Dull as rocks", he joked as she passed by. "But hard as iron. Albeleo knew his stuff."
Canopus on the other hand, had taken the great risk of visiting with the Eagle and Raven clans back on Earth to find new recruits from both. From the bird man's solemn nod, she could tell he had ensured only the strongest from each had returned with him. Neither had his reservations on the death of his previous comrades stopped him from doing what had to be done. The Wind Rider had also worked to maintain contact with their other allies, including the order of Roshian, the Samurai order in Deneuve, and the small groups left behind to keep order in Zenobia.
Lyon and Gilbert had put all their pets in a single clearing, the better for them to perform the usual animal greeting rituals and be able to work comfortably with each other. Seeing the dragons, Rauny saw that the handful of Silver brood they had controlled had also matured into the larger beak-nosed Gold Dragons like that kind Slust had used to fight them.
However, the Sky Knight had not chosen either of those to be his mount for this attack. Instead, he sat upon a Red brood which, strangely, stood upon its hind legs. He assured any questioners that this was in fact a natural part of the Red brood's evolution, though the creature's hide had not changed colour like the Silvers. Beside him, Fenril would not be accompanying them but yet remained, glowering as if only to make known her disapproval of the use Muspelm was being put to.
Valerin Ashe had broken down in a brutal coughing fit on the tenth day of training and sat out the rest in order to recover. This showed in the way he vigorously held himself upright, without showing even the twitches his corps of knights did. It had to be killing the old man inside, and for once Rauny's heart went out to him. Of all Zenobians, it might be he who had been the most wronged by the Empire's crimes. She could not tell him to sit this one out after all this time.
Tsuno Balakai held the rest of the apprentice wizards apart, all now clad in the more dignified dust-brown of mages after their breakthroughs in magical power. They had been faced with the opposite problem of Norn's cadre of healers- a lack of the ley energy which ran through the Earth to draw upon. Still, fighting to generate improvements over the tiny flashes they had been reduced to would add up to far greater power down below. She just hoped the Denueve native could keep the magic of his charges under control.
Finally, there was Norn Dias. Demure, but firm in the desire to see the plan succeed. She had carefully broken the news to Rauny last night about the missing stones, able to wait no longer. Though she did not believe in Zenobian legends as 'Needle-nose' did, she had witnessed enough of Rashidi's magic to know that nothing the Light Sage did was without purpose. If he sought an artifact, it was sure to have some power. All the more reason to strike soon. Behind her, some of the other healers looked still more nervous. After two weeks of getting used to a place their belief system proclaimed to be heaven, they were returning to a world that had given them naught but carnage and horror in the previous battles. Rauny made sure to bolster some of the less certain ones with a confident and powerful smile, assuring without words that she was behind them all the way, regardless of nationality or creed.
Going through the formation, she carefully assigned each division a healer and at least one mage, following up with a division of the flying creatures at their disposal. Most would use the tamed griffins Slust had raised, but everyone would have at least one combat-capable flier. Seeing Rauny beckon, Ashe stepped forward to speak on her behalf, since the last thing they wanted to hear was a Highlander talk to them in the language of the enemy.
"Everyone", he spoke raptly. "Everyone listen, please. I know we're all anxious about returning to Earth and facing our foes once more. For they yet outnumber us. They have the power. They have the terrain." She paused a moment, waiting for everyone's attention. "Many of you are no doubt wondering if this is a suicide mission. If any attempt at resistance without Destiny's Child watching over us is a futile gesture."
By speaking aloud the most common fear among the formation, he had quieted them enough to listen. Even the veterans stood waiting, knowing full well what had to happen. She could see an encouraging nod from Gilbert toward the west wing. Two Zenobian men who would never call her 'the Black Princess' when her back was turned...
"We know their forces. Twelve mighty legions, each one the size of our own army. Each one with a mighty leader behind them. You've all witnessed the power of at least one of these leaders firsthand- Kaus Debonair. Rowdain Figaro. Gares Endora. Even Tanaburs Luvalon, who believes that he has defeated us. I ask you: is he correct?"
"NO!", came the chorus, mostly from the younger ones.
"And shall we allow this error to remain uncorrected?"
"NO!"
"And shall we stop there, and leave our people under the shadow of the Black Queen?"
"NO!"
"THAT'S RIGHT!", he finally roared back in a volume that made Rauny worry if he could handle it. "Justice is on our side- never forget! We have chased these curs from Zenobia, chased them from Kasolat, chased them from Kalbi and Diaspola and Balmorra! Chased them from the very heavens themselves! And the heavens themselves have joined with us- two of their mighty heroes!" Returning to normal composure, he stared down at each division with zeal. "I do not say it shall be easy. I do say it must be done. For our children. For our children's children, we fight. No man shall ever forget this day, nor what we achieved here."
As they had rehearsed, she stepped in to ceremonially hand Brunhild to the captain. Ashe would be the keeper of it. He would hold their greatest treasure aloft as a symbol of Destin and the hope he represented, and though Rauny was inexperienced in matters of morale, she could tell it was having an effect on many already.
"To your stations", Ashe commanded at last. "Our target: the capital city of Malano! Long life to Gran!"
Everyone began to move, and Rauny halted only a moment to watch them prepare. Mages, muses, dragons and beast lords... Their losses had done nothing to diminish the variety of their makeup. That would be one more advantage they could hold over the enemy, if only it did not lead to tensions between the leaders.
Ara Kestler held out a hand to her, 2nd-in-command of Rauny's own division. They would be riding individual Eagle clanners down instead of flying beasts, and no mount of confidence from Rauny's flying partner could cure her of anxiety.
"A fine rally", the bird man spoke as she wrapped both arms around him. "Canopus should take lessons from you lady Vinzalf. You humans do have the gift of the silver tongue."
She frowned, unsure if he spoke Highlander. "Me? Ashe."
The golden-feathered man laughed. "Please. That speech smelled of a woman's touch. The children's children bit. A Zenobian man would have focused more on the blood and the honour... among other things associated with pillaging and burning the enemy's lands."
It was infuriating. There was much she wanted to say to the snarky bird man, but he would barely understand a word of it. "Just begin", she managed to blurt. "Begin. Start. Commence."
He only chuckled. "As you wish, my lady." They were behind already, but he ran full-out to catch up to his bretheren. Once they were past the edge of Muspelm, the score of part-angels began diving into the sea of clouds below, picking up speed as they entered the white.
And Rauny Vinzalf's stomach began to shake harder than Ashe ever had.
LOCATION UNKNOWN
The layer of mist within the Chaos Gate felt unnatural from the moment the six stepped within it. An endless cloud, it barred the way forward and foiled any attempt to chart their way, and several of them had small fits of coughing before their lungs adjusted.
Not that Destin Faroda allowed any of this to stop him. He marched forward, sword drawn, seemingly uncaring of his comrades behind him.
Lans cringed as he watched this. Whatever had happened between Balmorra and now had only made Destiny's Child more cold and distant from humanity.
Though he remained confident that the dreadful vision Warren had given him would not come to pass for many months at least, it was simply disheartening to watch how his friend forged ahead. When a sickly-yellow demon arose from the soup and tried to grab one of them Destin did not even hesitate, arcing Kalanbolg across to slash the creature down the middle before decapitating it without a word. Several more such vile beasts proceeded to ambush them interspersed with Omicron-level undead and were dealt with in much the same fashion.
"You've not asked about the status of the rebellion", he prodded in a rare moment where his brother had slowed down to a walk.
The younger man did not look him in the eye. "Should I have?"
They were interrupted by the need to banish another wraith, but he would not let the topic drop. "I had expected it, sir Destin."
"It is no longer any of my concern", he spoke coldly. "I no longer have no right to lead them, though I do wish them good fortune."
Lans shook, though it might only been an effect of the mist. Explaining what had happened would strike uncomfortably close to the truth of his existence here, but Destin did not seem to care enough to inquire. "Their fortunes, sir Destin, turned to ill mere days after you deserted us. I do not even know if they are still alive."
"I am sorry to hear that", he replied after several seconds.
Lans could hardly believe the lack of feeling in the words. "Sorry to hear that a hundred men and women you helped raise into a professional army might have died? Merely 'sorry'?"
"Did you expect a 'divine weapon' to break down at this news, brother?"
"I expected you to care about them", he retorted angrily, putting his frustration into his attack on a predatory vampire waiting for them, one stronger than Letishe but vulnerable to the same things. "Mayhap I was wrong."
Silence reigned, punctuated by the occasional fight, until at last the mists parted, the sky flooding back into existence along with grass taking the place of a featureless white pane. A prosperous-looking countryside that spanned for many miles divided by rivers with a wall of sheer cliffs to the north. Yet the feeling in the pit of his stomach did not abate, for it did not take long for them to spot the key differences between the geography of this new land they had come to and the world they had left behind.
There were clouds, true enough. Bits of white fluff arranged into identical rows stretching to the horizon. But in the time it took for them to descend the first hill, not once did they budge. Too, the grass did not sway or crunch as they stepped upon it. Not that there was any breeze at all to stir it, or the water in the river ahead, or animals making their usual noises.
It was all completely, utterly, fatally still, and for a moment Lans found himself wishing that they would return to the transitory mists.
"Antanjyl", Fubuki announced balefully behind them, the first words he'd spoken since entering the gate. "The realm of the dead... Not so bad as the Roshian scriptures describe, is it now?"
But even young Aisha could recognize the innate wrongness of this place. "No sun. No life." She might have preferred a cauldron of fire and brimstone to this illusion.
"Deneb's soul is here", Destin noted calmly, sniffing the air in vain for any breeze or life. "I can feel it."
"Where?", Mildain asked carefully. "We cannot be expected to search this entire place, now can we?"
"If we must", their leader commented. "But that shan't be necessary. Deneb was sacrificed to Galfgaron, the master of this realm. We must locate the base of his power."
"I somehow doubt he'll be a courteous host", Aisha remarked, perhaps aching for some levity now that Destin had stopped making jokes at all. "The Imprisoned One, a high-ranking Ogre? It is not possible he would be anything but the purest of evil. We'll have to fight him."
"True." He did not seem put off by the prospect. "In fact Galf shall be expecting us. He already knows we're here."
Stepping forward, he pointed Kalanbolg at the only mountain that could see now part of the massive cliff, situated at the center of the river system. "From there, we may be able to find him. Come."
What has happened?, Lans could not stop wondering. What is it that has done this to him? Could it only be the loss of miss Ellgwyr... Or something worse?
The red-armoured automaton leading them down the hillside offered no answers for him.
CAPITAL CITY OF MALANO
She was going to vomit.
In twenty years with the Zeteginean army, Rauny had never witnessed an attack quite like this one. She did not imagine any of her former comrades would realize what was coming, until it was too late.
She was not wrong. As the flying rebel divisions drew close enough to the ground to see their destination, there was no reaction from those on the ground. No rush of troops or preparation of battle lines. The 5th legion was caught completely unprepared by the drop, and within half an hour the first city, called Trieste, had been liberated.
Rauny's division did not yield to the temptation to watch the skies for their allies after recovering from the fast descent. It was enough to know that elsewhere, all across the spread of mountains and fields surrounding the city of Malano, other rebel divisions were falling down like pebbles upon other key cities in the region, blocking both supplies and communication, slowing the enemy's response further, decimating their ranks.
The drop may well have been the first-ever attack of its kind in the history of the Empire, and even for the Highland princess who had organized the strike it was breathtaking to behold.
"Rauny...?", one peasant asked in confused Highland-talk a while after they had cleared the surrounding area. "Freyashalas Lady Vinzalf, is it truly you?"
She eyed the soldiers at her side for only a moment. Unlike some, they didn't seem to mind her speaking the guttural-sounding language of their hated enemy for prolonged periods. Which was good, because even after spending nights up with Norn, her grasp of fluent Zenobian was still fairly weak. "It is I", she nodded. "Hopefully I do not have to explain why it is that I have joined with the rebellion."
The man and those around him did not seem off-put, and some even looked glad to see her. "It's... just that we had heard you were already preparing to perform your vows at the capital!"
Taken aback, she gave a nasty laugh. "Incredible. That pig Apros is so desperate to marry me that he's pretending that I am at his side! Trust me when I say that I shall never be wed to one such as he."
One of the Muses in her division, another native Zeteginean, grinned at her as well. "Pitiful haaswein. Might he actually attempt to perform the ceremony without you?"
"That would be a sight. Never underestimate that man's need to retain the respect of his fellow traders", Rauny remarked. "Much more than a farce... it is an invitation. He is daring us to come to his palace and prove him a liar." A great shame it was that they were yet a days' march away from him, but taking down Apros was hardly the only item on the agenda. However much her Highland blood boiled at the thought of the Baron's smug face, it could wait.
"Have you not heard word of Lord Fireseal?", she asked the man. "We had planned to rendevous with him before launching our attack on the capital."
"The bandit comes and goes of course", an older peasant offered, this one dressed in garments similar to the ones Rauny had escaped this province in. "He steals from the nobles and gives it to us. Never is he in one place for long. Might he have been an ally of the rebellion as well, Lady Vinzalf?"
"Ah, the allies of the rebellion are many and varied, my friend", a new voice came from the crowd, this time in Zenobian. The merchant Toad stepped forth, no less the worse for wear and actually wearing clean robes this time.
"You", Rauny observed, motioning for her closest translator to help. "You near friending?"
"Indeed. Friending. Your friends shall tell you I have been nothing but generous to their cause. And now that I've given that Badista the what-for, I've found a few new items to show you."
"Make it fast", the sole shaman in the princess' unit translated for her. "We rendezvous with lord Saradin's group at Sharmony in two hours' time."
"I shan't be long", Toad assured them, though some of the peasants looked leery of him. "I recently came into possession of an interesting little tome taken from the lands of Gargastan." He held up a thick book titled 'The Song of Sodoh'. "A priceless treasure, said to contain record of the very first civilizations of that nation."
"We are not a travelling collector", Rauny spoke through the shaman, still not sure if the man was for real or merely playing a joke. "In any event, that book runs contradictory to much of Zenobia's Roshian scriptures. They would burn it given half a chance."
"No concern of the Toad", the corpulent man shrugged, ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from a number of civillians who yet held onto the Roshian religion instead of the Goddess' teachings. "Take it anyway. My gift to you for being such loyal customers. And speaking of loyal customers..."
Before anyone could protest, he was dangling yet another thing before her eyes, what looked like a tiny bottle. "Bet you thought Destin had used up the very last of the Termites, didn't you? But I caught quite a few of them around the Zenobian capital's walls. What would you bet that it would have much the same effect upon Malano's? Only 50,000 Goth!"
Now she was catching on. The 'free' gift had only been that way to soften them up for this ripoff. "Malano's walls are not as strong as Zenobia's, even if the quality of soldiers defending it is greater. 30,000 Goth."
Toad snorted. "Were it not for the original sample, the rebellion would have died long ago. Your master was careless. If anything, you owe me for preventing an epidemic such as the one which they first began. 45,000 Goth."
She spat. "We owe you nothing, merchant. 34,000 Goth."
Toad sighed. "I see someone has taught you the fine art of bargaining, miss Vinzalf. To my chagrin. 40,000?"
"38,000 and you shall tell us any information you have as to the whereabouts of Tris- I mean, Lord Fireseal." Idly, she hoped the shaman would not slip the way she had.
She did not, but instead Toad leaned in closer and said: Ke gattosh ene gattosh. "A deal is a deal." In perfect Zeteginean!
Her mumbled curses did little to ruin his good mood, and finally he spoke again. "The Prince comes and goes, but his hideout lies in the town of Bel Chelry to the south of here. Behind the enemy walls. A prince for a princess... heh. I understand. Find him soon my dear, and all shall be made as it should be."
DEATH REALM ANTANJYL
None of the six warriors had known what to expect in the way opposition once inside the realm of the dead. As ever, the imagination provided far worse enemies than anything in reality save perhaps the Ogres of legend. But whatever the case, Lans could feel the others relax when they came upon a wandering band of vampires and werewolves who wasted no time attacking, no matter how fierce and persistent they all proved to be.
Except for Destin, of course. Lans could sense relaxation in him no more than he could any other feeling.
"Vampyr and lycanthropes in the day", Mildain broke the ice once they reached the central mountain's circular top. "This is a bizarre place indeed, lord Destin."
"No towns", Guildus commented beside him, equally weathered by the string of fights they'd gone through to get this far. "No one but muttering ghosts and fell beasts. T'is as terrible as it is bizarre, if not a great deal more."
"You expected flowers and sunshine?", Aisha quipped from the rear, shifting to a more introspective mood quick as the wind. "Exactly as described in the scriptures of Roshian. 'A frozen land without time or place where in-between souls shall meet their final judgement'. Of course, lots of folks thought it would be an actual frozen wasteland like Kalbi or Zeteginea. Shows them, eh?"
"In-between souls", Lans repeated, disbelieving. "Then, t'is not the final destination of evil mortals?"
The girl looked resigned, looking down from the mountaintop. "Not even close, I'm afraid. This is just the first level. Guys like Gares will be headed much deeper than Antanjyl when their time comes. Small comfort, I know."
"So all the Roshian temples preach", he said, mainly to himself to thwart the burgeoning fear in his chest. Had Zalas known of all this? "How many...?"
"Varies according to your interpretation of the teachings, but the most common number is ten. Ten levels of the underworld, each one more terrifying than the last with even worse beings held within them."
"Gods be praised we must only descend to the first", Guildus spoke, clearly just as intimidated as the rest of them by the prospect. Once again, one's imagination quickly filled in the nine levels below this one with the very worst kinds of eldritch horrors, the unimaginables waiting for them deep in the deepest levels which had never once seen a single ray of the sun...
"We are here to find Deneb", Destin said curtly. "However many levels of this ealm we must descend in order to find her, we shall do so. You are welcome to flee any time you wish, sir Guildus."
That statement appeared to do just the opposite. No matter how frightened they all were, none of them would dare be the first one to run from the terrors beyond their own world. At least, not while little Aisha was willing to keep going even deeper. The group simply settled on a moment of hopeful prayer all around the circle, which even Destin engaged in.
"How long has he been like this, pray tell?", Lans asked Mildain quietly afterwards. His friend yet remained a walking mass of fear, rage and denial, unapproachable for any of the things Lans wished to ask him about.
The paladin took his time in answering. "Since we reunited with him. He has not yet used Phantom once since then."
"Good for him", he decided. "Yet I can sense there is something else. Something deeper within than what mere magic shows us."
Mildain seemed to draw even quieter, careful as not to be overheard by Destin as he prayed. "Something in him snapped at Balmorra... Talk to him about anything beyond the task at hand and he simply shuts down. He denies himself ale or pleasurable company, or any human pleasures at all beyond base nutrition."
"Because he no longer views himself as human", Lans noted sadly.
Mildain reflected his concern. They all felt that way. "Quite so. He is leaner. Stronger and faster... for now. For how much longer I dare not say. It must be killing him inside, but there is nothing we can do. He must save himself."
Lans disagreed strongly with that idea, but kept it to himself. "All we can do is support him in these darkest of times, and hope he learns to feel once more."
The paladin blinked, understanding. "Quite. Miss Aisha tries, Gods bless her, but it just doesn't work."
"Then mayhap Deneb could", he stood, finally spotting the weirdly ordinary-looking castle to the far horizon. "That must be where she is being held, correct?"
"Correct", Destin replied, rejoining them. "I can sense it. But Galf can see us as well. We must hurry now, or-", he trailed off, moving into suppressed anger. "There is a ghost, Aisha."
Their shaman wasted no movements in banishing, but she was only halfway done when- to the shock of all- a mace ball flew from the sky to take her in the gut, knocking her down despite the wavering texture indicating the weapon was somehow part of another spectre.
"Ah! Too slow, little girl", a voice came down to them, followed by the main body. Lans squinted hard, then gasped.
"Heheh... What's wrong, Lancelot? Got some more regrets slowing you down?"
Granbane set a new record clearing its sheath. "None whatsoever... Usar Ferghus."
The disgraced knight's spectre gave a belly laugh as though he was flesh and blood once more. "O-hohoho...! Oh, this is just too good! Here I am, trapped for eternity, wishing a thousand million times over I could get my revenge, and here you come, right into my lap! Care to play, Lans?"
"Hmph. You may have him, boor", a second, far more cultured memory came from the frozen skies above them. "Yg'mir nochis... It is the whelp whom has truly earned my wrath."
"K-Kapella...!", Destin gasped, turning to face the new threat approaching. Rashidi's pupil bore the same scar along his neck which had severed his head months ago in the Pogrom Forest, but it did not seem to affect his speech at all. "You as well?"
"Better believe it, brother-man", a third voice called to them from down below. Sirius of Janneia climbed up onto the plateau in his werewolf state, his rib cage still crushed by the Mystic Mace but the exposed heart within yet beating gruesomely.
Lans had forgotten how savage that form looked over time, but now the fallen beast licked his chops in anticipation despite being as ghostly as the rest of them. "It's an all-day, all-you-can-eat Antanjyl revenge buffet! Our special today: DESTIN FARODA! With a side dish of HIS IDIOT FRIENDS!"
With Aisha injured, the other five clenched up in a protective circle as their fallen foes approached with bleak malice in their sunken eyes. All weapons were raised, and Usar's sickeningly familiar chain mace descending...
FWAP!
...In two pieces clattering on the ground. Blindingly fast, the same azure blade severed Sirius' left claw, causing him to howl in pain before tumbling off the ledge. Kapella reacted slightly faster, but the same foe still cut straight through the Fire Wall he brought up as a defence and left him bisected once more, unable to hover as he had been doing and falling down past the cliff edge.
The three vengeful spirits fell as one, identical in shock and rage at being denied that which all which remained of them craved more than anything.
"Back OFF, losers", the fourth spectre snarled, turning to face them with a feral grin as wide as his burning bright eyes. "He's MINE."
"Figaro", Destin whispered.
TOWN OF BEL CHELRY
Slaying Zeteginean soldiers became easier after the first.
The first one was murder. Rauny could feel it, every bone in her body protesting the action as though a hundred invisible hooks had lain buried within her flesh until just this moment. But neither did the training that same army gave fail her, allowing her spear to carry through and take the enemy paladin head on until he fell. Mercy is a weakness. Do not hesitate. Kill swiftly and cleanly.
Her father Hikash would have done the same in her position, and with the 5th legion gradually recovering from the drop they could no longer afford halfway measures. Enemy knights, healers, mages, Raven clanners and two-headed worgen all fell to rebel blades and spells, until the path to Bel Chelry lay open. She decided not to question the stroke of luck which had left the 6th or any of the rest absent- dealing with the 5th was work enough despite their disorganization. Only now, fighting uphill towards the trade city, did she feel as though they were making progress against the horde. The marketplaces were crawling with them.
"A report from lord Saradin, milady", a Zenobian runner offered, amusingly able to keep up with Rauny and speak even as her group marched on the town, slaying as they went. That was dedication. She approved. "They report numerous successful engagements at Tash Kent and Corahn's Jewel. Few casualties yet, but he says it shan't be long before the bastards regroup and return in greater numbers."
The princess nodded as she ran. She'd gotten a similar report from Ashe and Slust's units a while before now. Like all the legions of the Empire, the 5th was a professional group, and would not let something like this slow them overlong.
Just as expected. The eastern wing of units had instructions to pull back before the sun rose or whenever it appeared they were outmatched, whichever came first. No doubt alarmed by the sudden appearance of over a hundred rebel troops all across their front yard, the 5th would react conservatively, content to retake the cities and leaving the defence of the capital to its walls and Baron Apros' personal guard.
It would not be enough. Not against all three forks of the rebel movement when they converged as planned tomorrow afternoon. She had seen a good number of this guard in their time at the palace. They did wear an interesting outfit, she admitted. Custom-made armour composed of steel and rare nethicite, a sweeping v-shaped visor on their helmets, with bright red capes and shoulders to complete the uniform of Malano.
But in the few times she'd witnessed these so-called 'Devil Knights' called to action by Apros, none of them had displayed anything on the level of Imperial troops. A few deft fireball spells and moderate skill with an axe. Even the 12th legion under the late Kaus Debonair, known derivatively among the others as the 'Rookie Dump', could do better with less. They would be little problem. A speed bump and nothing more.
For now, she had another task to complete. Taking another hour to ensure Bel Chelry had been cleared of all enemies, Rauny's division searched the square asking for the whereabouts of 'Lord Fireseal'. And though the same measures as usual had been taken to protect their quarry from harm, once one of the farmers recognized Rauny from a previous meeting it was not long before they were brought to a secluded pantry below a granary, where a single figure awaited them in the shadows.
"You came", that familiar voice called in Zenobian once the farmer had locked the pantry door behind them. "I'd heard the rumours. People kept saying you were dead. That the whole rebellion was dead."
Rauny sighed, spoke to him in Zeteginean. "I hate Malano. You can find a rumour circulating in the marketplace about everything in the whole wide world except the truth." Having gotten that bit of frustration out, she ran heedlessly to the prince's side and swept into his waiting arms, already feeling the ticklings of the same passion she remembered from their time together. Prince Fichs Tristoram Zenobia had opened her eyes to the truth years ago, but it was the warm passion she felt all over that had made her listen to him in the first place.
He was not an outstanding physical specimen- Destin had actually been more muscular and imposing despite being a year younger. But neither was he scrawny like many his age. The once-trademark cheekbones of the Zenobian royal family were framed by darkly contrasting lips that could indeed have appeared most sinister if he wished them to. In the dirty red-tinged peasant's garb he now wore, it was only the rich coif to his dusty brown hair that truly made him stand out from the rank-and-file.
Nonetheless, a good number of the people here clearly knew his true name and worked to protect him from discovery by the Empire's dogs. In her haste, Rauny had not even seen the Prince's sole bodyguard; a man in barbarian furs hiding much of his body and head with a fixed mace and a feral scowl aimed directly at her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Kashyier... What if it had been an Imperial spy?
"Peace, Iseult", Tristan waved the man away. "Any friend of Rauny is a friend of mine, and I get the feeling I know why it is you're here anyway."
Gilbert, the Zenobian representative, stepped forward nervously at first, but gradually his bowed body realized that this was the real deal, and so sank into twenty-five summers worth of abject relief. "My lord", he forced out the words. "My lord... Surely you know that, had we any indication of your survival, we would have gladly rallied to you to take back our lands. After so much heartache, I am overjoyed to see you hale and healthy. As are all the people of Zenobia!"
Tristan merely nodded back kindly. He could not possibly remember the governor's wizened face and lanky frame from the Zenobian court. He had admitted to her once that all but the most defining images were hazy. "You are forgiven, sir...?"
"Oblion, lord. Gilbert Oblion of Sharom."
"Sir Oblion. I appreciate your words. Even after I grew old enough to understand what had been stolen from me, I also knew that such a task would be impossible with the current manpower available. It was all I could do to avoid detection in the first years, and were it not for the boundless empathy of Malano's people, I would not be standing here before you today."
"Banya", Rauny remembered, "wasn't it? That nursemaid you said saved you?"
The prince brightened. "Indeed. But as time passed, our communications were cut..."
"She lives, my lord", Gilbert cut in, knowing well the prince's fear. "The nursemaid is the one who told us of your survival, and gave us an idea of where to look."
"Good old Banya", the prince returned to his seat, releasing Rauny from a brief kiss. "I hope she also told you of the precautions she told me to implement, in the case of a ruse by Baron Apros. You have the key?" On cue, Iseult readied his weapon.
"We do", Ara Kestler spoke, raising the aforementioned item from a coat pocket. "And the Herostar as well. She made it clear that you would not trust us had we not these items."
"A paranoid precaution", the prince remarked sadly. "But a neccessary one mayhap, in times such as these. Would that I had known any better time."
"A better time coming, my lord", Gilbert admonished from his position, sheer joy almost making him forget royal dignity. "Though the one called Destiny's Child no longer walks with us, thanks to his guidance we have come farther than any of us ever dreamed. Gained powerful allies whose prowess has made this meeting possible."
"Much have I heard of the legendary Destin Faroda", Tristan considered. "I admit I was looking forward to finally meeting the Chaos-Bringer. What happened to him, pray tell? Might he have perished in battle?"
Seeing the way this question cast a pall on everyone's face, the prince shrugged. "Ah. My sincere apologies. In truth I've not witnessed much in the way of war. Only heard tales from far off lands, for whether in times of peace or conflict, Malano has ever been the safest possible haven."
"Insulated from the harsh realities is more likely", Rauny remarked in angry Zeteginean. "The merchant lords worked to weave a cocoon with their wealth wherein the rebellion and Empire do not exist. Damned haaswein cowards, all of them."
Tristan shrugged again, eyes back on his very best of friends. "We all have our own words on this world. Princess Rauny has led the hard soldier's life I'm sure you know. But she has helped me to learn to ways of the sword, in a way that Banya would never have permitted. Her company has been invaluble to me."
"To us as well", Gilbert smiled at her. The governor had no talent for deception or insults, and so she smiled back. "It was her plan which got us here. In just a few more hours, we are to set out for the palace at the heart of the city. We would be honoured lord, if you would join us."
Being so close, she could feel the way Tristan's features slackened into dismay quite acutely. "You go to the royal palace? But Apros' Devil Knights-"
"We have dealt with worse, Fichs", Rauny assured him. Of course to the prince's novice sword hand and tactical sense, the visored elite guard of Malano would seem like brutal enforcers; not to be trifled with even if the numbers were even. "These people have descended into the frozen abyss of Kalbi and fled into the heavens to fight divine beings. For Malano to fall, Arwan Apros must fall."
"This is not the full tithe of our strength, my prince", Gilbert pointed out when the young prince still looked uncertain. "Less than a third, in fact. Once you meet lord Saradin, master Walf, captain Ashe and the rest you'll feel that weight of fear slide from your shoulders. It is a long time coming."
But the prince still did not seem eager to launch such a massive attack, frowning as he walked over to a half-full bottle of ale. "I have no wish to disappoint any of you", he said wistfully, pouring a tiny shot glass. "I know now that my kingdom is Zenobia, even if my home is Malano." Taking a sip, he showed none of the effects. Only tiredness and concern.
"But you have to understand- I can barely even remember it. Banya spent more time with me than my father and mother ever did." Touching his sword hilt, he forced the liquid down his throat with a gurgle. "Homemade wheat gut-rot. Better than all the fancy wines in the palace. I have seen bloodshed if not war, sir Oblion. Your- or rather Rauny's- battle plan would bring about much of it, more than I have ever seen before. And for what?"
"Restoring your rightful place as king", the governor said. "We gladly die to destroy the Empire, and restore the natural order of the world."
"For me", Tristan summed it up gravely. "That's it, is it not? All of this killing, all of these towns deprived of food or Goth or even its children to feed into ever-growing armies, is all so I can sit on some big chair in Zenobia. I cannot condone that. It is not worth it to me."
Rauny mirrored the rebels' slow dawning of comprehension. They had talked so many times of the future, but never had Tristan spoken of his heritage in such a way. Being the first one to recover, she felt obligated to say something in their defence. "Fichs... Come on. We all know it was my people who started this struggle. We all know it shall take much of their blood in order to fix it. I've accepted that, and so should you."
Gulp. "I cannot even remember what father looks like. What difference does it make if I am to accept this evil or not?"
Of all people, it was Gilbert who surprised them with a fitful glare, standing up stiff as a board. Rauny had never seen him angry before, but she would likely not forget it any time soon. "Only the difference between honour and cowardice. But of course you are right. No difference at all. So you may continue sitting down here drinking your gut-rot while we fight and bleed and die for your name and the people. If you'll excuse me, my prince..."
Others followed him out until it was only Tristan, Rauny, and Iseult left. "He's merely suffered a great disappointment", Rauny offered mildly. "We came a long way for you, Fichs."
"And I am sorry for that", Tristan replied stonily. "But I never asked for any of this. I'd have been happier being a thief in Malano for the rest of my days." Gulp.
"Enough!", she cried, drawing an angry gaze from Iseult and nothing from Tristan. "Stokvarcht! You are their prince! They fought their way here just to find you! After all that, you aren't even going to try?"
"I cannot make a difference", Tristan insisted. "I am no legendary warrior like Destin or Slust. I would be dead weight against such foes. Useless ceremonial drivel, like most everything in this country."
Rauny was stunned. This was not the man whose passion for justice had caused her to see the truth. "If you truly believe that Fichs... Then perhaps you are right after all."
A lightning bolt fuelled by frustration lance forward, too fast for Iseult to stop. When the glow faded, Tristan's bottle was in wet shards of glass on the ground. She stormed from the granary without looking back.
DEATH REALM ANTANJYL
"Away!", Destin shouted once he had recovered from the sight before them. "These wraiths come for me! But you may yet be able to slip out! Head for the castle!"
"Never!", Lans shot back. "I'll not leave your side again, sir Destin! We fight these curs together. T'is not your blood that Usar desires, nor Sirius."
Destin looked angry but did not argue further. There was no time. "I wouldn't worry about them, Faroda", Figaro's spectre said, brandishing his long blade showily just as he had in life. "I'm not letting any of these Zenobian haaswein deprive me of my chance!"
Lans trust out to guard, but it soon became clear that dying had not robbed the 2nd Deva of his strength- the first strike threw him back nearly to the edge of the cliff. "Stay out of this, old-timer!", Figaro growled. "Death itself could not deny me my battle, you sure as hell can't! No cheap-ass healers to help you this time, Faroda!"
"No illusions this time, Rowdain", Destin replied, obliging the Deva with an opening series of quick slashes, making up for his lack of a second sword by holding Kalanbolg in both hands. "This time you won't come back."
As Lans scrambled back to his feet, he saw Figaro unleash his explosive Niebelung technique again, and Destin invoke the Iainuki technique to counter it. The resulting destruction completed the job, throwing him and all the rest of the rebels off the cliff with the force of the blast.
Off the cliff, where the other fallen enemies had been waiting. Usar pounced the moment Lans was standing again, the mace ball reformed somehow and falling towards his helmet before he blocked it. "You'll never escape me!", the ex-governor grinned savagely, no longer held back by even the slightest need to feign civility. "Never! I'll smash your head open and feast!"
But while his new-found power had failed him against Figaro's ghost, Usar had not been near that level even in life. Dodging the follow-up swing, Lans caught the chain on his shield and drove Granbane home. "Be gone."
Twisting it to make sure, he cast a look over at the others, wary of the remaining ghosts. Though Kapella continued to hover at a safe distance waiting his turn to attack Destin, Sirius attacked Fubuki without hesitation, prompting an equally quick finishing blow.
Or so they had thought. Usar's mace flew out once more to take him in the side. Aisha was quick to mend that wound, but it was more the shock of how quickly the barbaric governor had recovered that shocked him. Like his chain mace, the wraith had somehow regenerated, as though he had not been stabbed in the heart mere moments before. "I told ya Lansy-boy", he cackled madly, "You can't get away! Never! For my vengeance I'll chase you to the ends of the Earth and beyond!"
"They shan't fall", Guildus observed while the others fought off their immortal attackers. "They are a part of this place! We must go to the source!"
Hearing the sound of sparks being scraped out up above, he too realized the problem. "Keep him busy", he commanded of Mildain. "I shall aid sir Destin, bring him back to help with these ones!"
It took him longer than he had figured to get back up to the top of Antanjyl's single peak, during which Kapella still did not make a move against them, simply waiting and watching the duel before them.
As he'd feared, the Highlander looked to be winning. Every move was executed with rapid precision, and even as he stared more sparks were scraped off Destin's sword. "I shall never fall!", Figaro gloated on their next pass. "I can never fall! I am DEVA! Death cannot stop me from fighting my enemies!"
"Yet you died", Destin growled, pushing back with equal stubbornness. "Most people would know when to call it quits and stay down!"
"I'm not most people". The man's technique surged out again, and once again Destiny's Child sacrificed his own energy to cancel it. "The sheer power of my will has made illusion into reality!"
"Such a pain...", his opponent remarked after the next volley. Barred again from interfering by another Blast attack, Lans saw The Look. It had been so long since last he'd seen it, but at the same time it had been long enough so as to be easily recognized.
That look his friend got when he had a brilliant idea for dealing with the enemy. Kapella, Debonair, Porkyus... The Look had been the omen of their doom.
Falling back as if weakened, Destin allowed the crazed Highlander to drive him off the cliff, made sturdy enough by experience to roll away from the fall with little injury. "You just don't give up do you, Figaro?"
"Of course! I'll fight you forever, Faroda! That is my desire!"
Following them down, Lans saw the Deva lash out at Kapella once more, and he understood. "USAR!", he shouted with all his heart. "Vile traitor! Have you lost your desire for vengeance? Have you lost your edge?"
"No", the same wraith as before appeared, mace ball and a twisted leer at the ready. "I have them both right here!"
And so both duels began anew, the other rebels watching for only a few minutes before catching on as well. Kapella would try to get in a spell, only for Figaro to deflect it with his blade. Sirius would pounce with his dog-like tongue out in anticipation of the blood to come, only for Usar to block him.
With every dodge or roll, the rebel combatants moved further west, until they caught the attention of the next pack of vampyr and other fell creatures. These were blunted the same way, and the handful of strikes which got through were easily blunted by Guildus and Mildain.
It was perhaps the most unconventional means of troop movement Lans had ever witnessed in all his years, and a part of him wished he could one day see it from afar, if only to recognize how fast they were advancing across the endless plains. Organized chaos- none of the four vengeful spectres would give up the task of revenge to any other, and in this lack of solidarity, Destin had seized opportunity. Figaro in particular seemed terribly zealous about it, now spending just as much time attacking the enemy as he did Destin.
The bizarre dance of blades did not halt until it reached the gates of the castle, at which point the Deva unleashed his Blast technique into the center to clear away the demons and ghouls which had accumulated. On cue, the rebels formed up into a tight knot, five weapons ready to cover one another. And now, Lans allowed himself release at the ridiculousness of it all.
"You laugh, captain", Mildain observed strangely. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh. Boss, has this man ever laughed before?"
"Never", Destin said, for once shaking off the gloom which held him, though he still did not smile. "I don't think he's made a single jest since Gran died. That might count, though. Sharp eyes, brother. Good work."
"I am surprised as you, sir Destin", Lans agreed, only now feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. "That should not have worked. But I am glad it did."
Before them, the crowd of misshapen foes all looked reluctant to take another step towards Galf's decrepit castle, even the ghosts of Usar, Kapella and Sirius all backing down in silence. After several moments of consideration however, Figaro stepped across the dividing line, fighting a tremor running through his entire body and winning. "I said I'd never let you go", he gritted out. "And I meant it. Why are you down here anyway, Faroda? Looking for something challenging to kill?"
"Galf-garon", Destin lied. "The Ogre in charge of this realm, which he was purportedly banished to at the end of the Ogre Battle. I hear tell he's very strong. No one else in the world above is a challenge for me any more."
Hearing this, Figaro brightened immensely, actually looking less spectral as he gave them his trademark feral grin. "That's the spirit, Faroda. No pun intended. You finally understand what I told you at Kalbi- it's all about the fight... It's all about the kill. When you get up to our level, Faroda, nothing else gets your blood pumping like a good fight. And a world with no decent competition is just boring as sin. Now we can fight eternally!"
There was no further opposition as the group of seven made their way into the main hall. As expected the place was not well-kept at all, nor was it structurally complex, nor even as sinister-looking as he might expect from the heart of this realm of Death. The lord of Antanjyl had only paid any real mind to the throne room, which he had arranged so that his subjects could sit or stand in large rows to either side of the dark green carpet going up the middle towards him. There was no roof- the entire thing lay open to the frozen sky. The revolting creatures within the hall held themselves back as well, for Lans could sense the way their fear of Galf-garon overrode even their desire to kill the six humans walking into their inner sanctum.
The ruler himself sat upon a throne of black and white enamel, tall enough to stretch to the top and partly melded with the back wall. Though the feel of his power told a different story, in truth the Imprisoned One did not look terribly different from the many imps and demons so many human wizards- Kapella included- had called through the Ars Goetia to be their servants. He was merely larger, with slitted reptilian eyes, marine blue skin of leather, and a tall head with a ring of small horns protruding from his cranium. A necklace of stark white which no one dared ask about lay about his neck. His teeth were actually larger than these decorations, and he bore them as the seven approached.
"Zo you're ztill alive", Galf of Antanjyl observed with a prohibitively heavy rasp. "Why have you come here? Any zoul which enters into Antanjyl is forfeit to me. Don't you know where you ARE? I am the mazter here!"
"We come to free another", Destin spoke at the front of the group, ignoring the way Figaro was glowering at him. "One wrongfully sent here. Deneb Rhodes, the witch. Release her, and no one shall be hurt."
"Wouldn't that be a shame", the Ogre mused from his seat before raising one bone-thin claw in ridicule. "Foolish humanz! The witch you zeek is mine. She was zacrificed to me. And with her zoul in my possession, I am that much clozer to breaking free of this dizmal realm!"
He laughed at their presumption, and all his twisted followers laughed along with him. Destin drew Kalanbolg. "She does not belong here. You have seen our power firsthand, Galf-garon."
"Indeed I have", the Imprisoned One nodded mock-graciously. "Only mighty zoulz could have gotten this far into my realm, though only because I allowed you to. Not one of you can compare to Deneb, but you'll all make fine appetizerz nonethelez."
Snapping two slender fingers of his claw, he summoned a double-headed scythe into the other from thin air, glorying in Destin's evident worry over Deneb. "Unlezz", he stopped, "you should happen to have the Brunhild zword with you?"
Seeing Figaro's confusion, Destin looked back. "What has that to do with anything?"
"You truly do not know?", Galf snickered. His hangers-on guffawed. "That blade is the key to unlocking the Chaos Gatez! Including the one uzed to imprison me. With that, I would have no need for your zoulz, or for Deneb."
Unable to hide his eagerness, he stretched out the claw not holding the scythe and beckoned. "Give me the Brunhild, and I shall releaze the one you love. Give me the Brunhild, and I shall let all of you walk free. Give me the Brunhild, and I shall join your side, and together we shall crush the Empire!"
"So. Rastaban spoke the truth", Destin murmured, shocked by the truth. "That sword..."
He looked around. He had expected any number of angry protests from his comrades, particularly Lans and Aisha. But no. They stood ready to defend him. None of them spoke a word. They all trusted in him, trusted his judgement.
Or, perhaps they simply knew the truth. Destin shook his head in pity. "Release an Ogre from the hell which he was rightfully sealed into? One of the most powerful ones in the mythologies of the world's dawn?"
"For all the kingdomz of this world!", Galf screeched. "For the one you love! There is nothing, nothing I cannot grant you!"
"I have fallen far", he replied emotionlessly. "Down farther than I had ever dreamed possible. I thought I could handle things. I was a Fool... But even I am not that gullible. You shall never have Brunhild, Galf. Not while I yet breathe."
Lans could easily picture an entire book of expletives flashing through the look on the Ogre's primal face. "Very well", the Ogre snarled. "On your own head be it. I shall zimply pry it from your corpze, and rule the mortal world myself!"
The scythe flew, and the lord of Antanjyl attacked with all speed.
BARON APROS' PALACE, MALANO
Rauny and the other rebel leaders could tell something was wrong the moment they arrived within siege distance of Baron Apros' luxurious home at the heart of the great city of Malano. They had come expecting a bitter defence- Devil Knights, retainers, locked gates, even stragglers from the 5th and 6th legions.
Instead the massive front gates of the palace lay desolate and unguarded. A number of elegant carriages were strewn about the thousand-flower garden showing no signs of whatever had vacated the structure. Once inside, the motionless bodies of two of Apros' elite guard made Ashe gasp and turn his head for the trail of blood that lay ahead of them.
It was like that all throughout the palace. Opulent furnishings and stained-glass windows alike all turned ghastly by the smearing of blood and a scattering of pulverized bodies. It felt as though each door and room left the rebels hanging ever more on edge.
Finally, it nearly came as a relief when Canopus reported signs of life from the window of cathedral wing. From behind the main altar it appeared as though little was different- the bodies at least two dozen wealthy-looking nobles scattered across the benches along with a number of guards. Only the figure in the center, at the bottom of the steps, moved.
"My Rauncorintha", the survivor whispered in elation. "You've come back to me! Oh, this is so wonderful, now they all can see!"
In the lead, Rauny paled. "Apros? What?" Her memory of the Baron was completely at odds with the figure standing before them, not to mention the destruction which had been wreaked on near everything of value in his home.
"Yes, my love", the Baron extended one meaty hand as though nothing was wrong, his expression one of childish glee. "It is I. I have waited for you all this time, never doubting for a second that you would come back to me."
Now her disgust of the man outweighed the confusion, and she drew her spear. "Your bounty hunter sang a different tune, Baron. After that I thought you'd caught on- I'd rather freeze to my bones in Niflheim than marry you."
"So cruel, even now", he leered back, happier than she'd ever seen him. "What would your father say if he heard you speak like that? That famous temper, as harsh as a Highland winter... and a will of iron that only the strongest can bend. My Rauncorintha. My darling princess... Now I am the strongest."
"Enough", Ashe grumbled, stepping up beside her in a defensive position. "It's no wonder we had such an easy time getting here if this thing was the only command echelon. You have a simple choice, Baron. Surrender, or we let lady Vinzalf act upon her desires."
"And oh my, you've brought guests!", the Baron outburst suddenly. "Now everyone will see! Everyone will know this union of holy matrimony! Everyone will watch, as I bend your iron!"
Too late, she realized the angle he'd been standing was deliberate. He'd been hiding a rock that glowed with every colour of the magical spectrum, and once it was revealed he did not waste any time pressing his fingers to it.
"Everyone will watch, and behold my power!"
Eagle-eyed and quick as ever, Canopus burst through the window and shot off a blast of thunder, but it did not seem to make a difference to the glow that engulfed the Baron. Everyone else was too distracted by the man's sudden screaming to attack just yet, and by the time the rest of the division was in position, the effect was complete, the scream transformed into a roar of anguish.
Baron Apros had now grown to just over twice his already-considerable human height. His spine ripped its massive bone plates through flesh like hooks. His head smashed the cathedral rafters as he moved, and his foppish noble's clothes had been shredded into just rags enough to cover his modesty. Far worse were his eyes, which now positively glimmered with the power inside him, mixed in with the madness Rauny knew had been there all along. "COME!", the giant Apros had turned into roared with the fury of a bear. "BOW BEFORE ME!"
"The Zodiac Stone!", Saradin commented almost as an afterthought as he began to conjuring a firewall to start with. "Even I never thought they held such magic. Be careful, everyone! I sense this fop is even more powerful than he looks!"
"Ah. Good news." Canopus swerved, starting another power dive from the roof. "Probably not too swift, though. Still a hum- URGH!"
But the speed with which the Baron's arm snapped up and swatted the bird man into a pillar proved otherwise. With the same motion, he cast away the number of fighters attempting to hack away at his legs. Long range strikes from Saradin and Rauny had more success, but with such bulk it would take a long time to fry it all. Growling in frustration, she ended the lightning and struck a descending fist on its way to crush one of Ashe's subordinates.
She did not expect the pike to sink so deeply into the flesh of the fist, nor how Apros ignored the pain to hoist her up before his bulging face. "Your guests are ill behaved, my sweet", he taunted, grimacing with teeth the size of men, "should you settle down, I'll let them live."
Grunting, she pushed away. It didn't matter. Soon, the numbers would take their toll, and-
A screech drew her eyes to the reinforcements. They were not the only ones- a pair of red-skinned demons had appeared when they weren't looking, now attacking the warriors who were supposed to be their backup. Apros solved that riddle for her almost immediately, tearing open a gaping void with a swipe of one hand. From it, a third such creature emerged and attacked Ashe with all speed. "Focus on him!", she shouted to those not occupied with such a duel. "He's the source!"
In return, a cacade of glow from Norn's group soothed their wounds, just in time for them to run back at Apros and receive more. After a minute or so of this, the giant reared up and squinted. "How rude." Gestured, bringing forth a massive orange ghost head that shot toward one of the monks, leaving her blank-eyed and motionless as it departed.
It wasn't Norn, to Rauny's great relief. But the attack did bear enough of a similarity to Destin's Phantom that many of the veterans wavered around her. Sensing their hesitation, Apros took the moment to grab Rauny, encasing her in the swirling darkness of the more common Nightmare spell even as the fist crushed her combat armour. Since when was he a sorcerer?
"BOW." The hulking eyes and mouth loomed, still shining with the power the stone had given him. "BOW! Don't you care for your friends, princess?"
Unable to move her arms or legs any more, Rauny merely spat on the knuckles holding her. The Baron glowered, but did not seem impressed. "So be it. We'll still be together, always!"
He opened his jaw, beginning to lower his arm, and for the first time since arriving in the capital Rauny Vinzalf felt fear. She had never wanted to die like this, crushed and devoured by the behemoth Arpos had become-
She was close enough to smell his breath when the Baron howled, dropping her before the gash in his leg- the gash which belonged to the sword of Prince Tristan. "Fichs!"
"You shall not touch her", the prince spoke as Apros fell back. Looking around, Rauny saw there were more reinforcements for the rebel side, people she did not recognize, had not trained. As they fought the demons she could see their inexperience with the sword and bow. Only Iseult truly held his own against the red-skinned horrors Apros had summoned, but his mere presence inspired the other peasants Tristan had brought with him.
"It is true?", the Baron gasped loudly, standing from the glass window he had fallen upon and shattered. His curiosity was for now eclipsing his fury. "The prince lives? The wayward son of Gran Zenobia?"
"One of them." Tristan looked melancholy, but did not relax his guard. "Jan wasn't so lucky. Thanks to your betrayal, Baron."
The giant Apros stomped the ground while speaking, forcing everyone back as the floor erupted. "Ah, so it is you. Somehow you survived all this time. A fact easily remedied, son of Gran."
Rauny knew the prince had been training since she had left, but he still wasn't so foolish as to think he could take on such a beast by himself. He stretched one hand out to his lover, beckoning to anyone else not occupied with the other. "I'm here to correct two mistakes, Baron. One is not killing you earlier. The other is not confessing my love for this wonderful woman when I had the chance to, before she returned to the Imperial army. I mean to correct both of those here and now."
Hand-in-hand, they charged. Two wrecking ball fists descended to smash them, but Saradin shot off a fireball to stop one and Rauny's lightning blasted the other. Infused halberd and blade struck the left and right legs, sending a doubled-shock all the way through the Baron's frame.
"Rauncorintha Odessa Vinzalf", Tristan spoke in Highlander as they dodged and slashed about the behemoth. "Do you take me as your lawfully wedded husband, in good or ill, in life and in death, forever in the eyes of the Gods?"
She laughed and was nearly beheaded for it. This was the Tristan she remembered, impulsive to a fault. "I do!"
"STOP IT!", their enemy screamed, intensifying his own efforts. The Phantom spell came down again, but this time they were close enough to roll between the giant's legs and the ghost heads did not follow "Don't LAUGH at me! She is mine! MINE!"
"Fichs Tristoram Zenobia", Rauny ran up the Baron's swiping arm, coming within inches of stabbing his eyes out, only prevented by a blast of Nightmare. "Do you take me as your lawfully wedded wife, in battle and in peace, in health and in sickness, forever in the eyes of the Goddess Freya?"
Taking the diversion, the prince now leaped from Rauny's misaimed lightning, using the extra momentum to reach the air in front of the Baron's chest and cut straight across. To the shock of everyone, the hazy blue wave of Debonair's Blade technique shot out and cleaved the Baron's ribcage. "I do!"
Bellowing in rage, the Baron's next stomp floored them both. Glaring down with the utmost of hate, the Baron took a moment to decide which of them to crush first with his one good arm.
And that was his final mistake- a massive Blizzard spell struck from the rafters, augmented by the two amateur wizards Tristan had brought in. "Then by the power vested in me, whatever that is", Saradin Carm finished, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may slay the fop."
They did. The icy gale had knocked the Baron down again, and the ice formed on his body slowed his movements enough to make the kill a sure one. Stepping aside, Tristan allowed his bride to strike the final blow, the halberd hovering over the huge wound in the ribcage he had left.
"Don't... laugh.. at me...", the Baron was somehow able to mutter despite the bleeding. "It's not... funny... It's NOT...!"
Rauny thrust down and felt something in there stop beating. So used to the stillness that overcame the fresh dead, she jumped back, startled at the flood of light that erupted from the burst heart, surging into the ceiling and beyond. As the rebels watched, the group of demons Apros had summoned disappeared in smaller blinks of the same substance, and when it was all gone only the ruby which had started all of this remained on the floor, shimmering innocently.
"A true beast", Saradin said, the first to recover and walk over to pick up the Zodiac stone. "But worth it. Without this, Rashidi's plan is stalled indefinitely. Nice moves, prince."
Tristan barely acknowledged the praise, but Rauny fully intended to ask him just when he had learned such a powerful technique. "I saw the carnage on my way in. You people didn't do all that, did you?"
"Apros", Rauny explained. "He killed them all with the power it granted him. Probably because a lot of them-"
"Were his rival merchant lords, yes", a new voice interrupted. Toad stood in the destroyed cathedral wing, bled of his usual good humour with his black beard longer than usual. "A prince for a princess. Congratulations. I'll be taking his signet ring, if you don't mind."
They were too tired to argue the point, but Saradin surveyed the ground in confusion. "Sorry, Toad. Looks like he took it with him to Antanjyl."
"What?" Dashing between the newlyweds, the merchant searched the ground where Apros had fallen frantically. "What is this? Damn that wretch! Why'd he have to go and use such a dangerous artifact... unless one of you took it? Fess up!"
No one had, but Ashe stepped forward, covering his injuries- something had finally clicked. "You desired his signet ring?"
For once, the Toad looked too irritated to sugar-coat it. "The identifying ring of the head of the merchant's council. My ring, which he stole when the council was dissolved by the Empire. I've waited decades to get it back."
"Which is why you helped us", Rauny realized. "All this time since Pogrom Forest, all the things you've sold us is just so we could bring down Apros for you, so you could become head of a new council of merchant lords." The Highland words were bitter, but in retrospect it was not that surprising- a merchant lord only ever looked after their own interests. Apros was hardly unique in that regard.
"Going to need some new blood to fill out the ranks now", Toad demurred at the bodies around them, no doubt recognizing a good number. "On the other hand, less competition." Shrugging, he bounded over to one of the more intact ones and plucked an engraved ring from its finger. "A merchant's council of one... But I'll still be expecting full recompense for the wanton destruction of my ring. 20,000,000 Goth. Less than half of what it's worth to me, but I'll cut you a deal."
Ashe stepped forward, sizing the Toad up as if he wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not. "And if we refuse, young man?"
"Then you'll carry that debt, with interest. All tributes given to the rebel army by the cities you've liberated shall be sent to me until your debt is paid."
Silence held the rebel leaders. They could certainly ignore the debt, dismiss it as a fantasy by Toad... Except that the reason Malano had developed even better training for assassins than Deneuve was originally to punish those craven poor who did not pay their debts on time. Odds were better than good a former merchant lord knew a few people as skilled in their 'craft' as the bounty hunter Ares, if not better. And knowing Malano's reputation for vindictiveness, such an attack might come at a most inconvenient time. This was no longer a joke.
Then Tristan stepped forward, smiling. "Apros' fortune is in the basement. You may have all of it, sir Toad. If that is not enough to pay this debt, then I shall call upon the royal fortunes of Zenobia as well."
The man threw up his slender hands in protest. "Generous as that is, Arwan Apros' fortune is by default the property of the nation, it is not your to give away."
"As a conquering army we are entitled to whatever we wish to take from a defeat enemy", Tristan riposted. "We operate under Zenobian rules of engagement, not Malanian."
The Toad looked as though he might swell up and pop, but even he must have realized this was his only chance of ever seeing any of that money. "Very well", he gritted out. "I shall message you the amount still owed to me after subtracting Apros' fortune."
"Saradin, go with him", the prince commanded. "He'll need somebody who can blow open the door to the vault... and to count the Goth inside.
Another time, the Truthsayer might be offended by such a cavalier order, but now he was too satisfied to protest. Of course they needed someone to make sure Toad would not understate Apros' holdings, and who better than a man trained by Rashidi to see through lies? When they were gone, Rauny embraced him. "I knew you wouldn't abandon us."
"Never", he concurred. "Sitting in the dark down there, I realized that no matter what I did, bloodshed would happen. From the look of things here it already had happened. All I could do is lend some modicum of meaning to this struggle, even if a terribly shallow one."
"No, prince", Ashe spoke up behind him. "Far from a shallow meaning. You underestimate your importance, and you underestimate yourself. The mere fact that you live, that you have taken up the leadership of this army, is a light in the dark not only for us, but for all those who depend on us. Everyone shall be waiting for your triumphant return and coronation. I foresee a great increase in next month's tributes."
"Then hopefully none of it shall go to that merchant lord", Tristan quipped, finally, irresistably caught up in the enthusiasm of the rebels around him. Only Iseult looked grumpy. "Furthermore, if the only choice is between two epic tragedies, then I would choose the one where Rauny does not die fighting her own people, hated by them. That can't have been easy for you."
"It wasn't", she agreed simply. "But you are the one who taught me why it was the right thing to do, my love."
"You have my thanks for reminding me of that, then." Nodding, he drew back, taking a moment to make sure the healers were rounding up the many wounded without issue. There had been several rebel deaths, but considering how powerful the 'Ruby' stone had made Apros he was grateful there had not been many more. Destiny, it seemed, was back with them. "I accept that position. I shan't pretend to know more about tactics than you sir Ashe, but I promise to lead to the best of my abilities and listen to your advice."
A mailed hand clapped itself firmly to his shoulder. "That is all that is required of a good leader. Welcome back, my prince."
It felt wrong to him. Tristan nearly broke off and departed then, but Rauny held him close long enough to shake the hand of anyone who asked. By the end, that crawling fear that he was making the wrong choice had abated, and he turned to face his bride with a smile. "Now. I don't know about you, but I feel as though we're well deserved a little honeymoon time, do you not agree?"
LOCATION UNKNOWN
Giaco Reldin felt dead. Though he dared not imagine what the Thirteenth truly felt like when it came forth to take a man from the mortal world, he'd now gone through enough of the common stimuli to consider himself more of a learned man in that area.
There had been darkness all around him as far back as when he remembered blacking out in the Valley of Kastro. An unyielding blackness greater than night or sleep, which for a long time had been his only companion outside a handful of faint sensations telling him desperately little.
He did know that he had been stripped of his armor. He was injured, and badly, and that whoever was keeping him in the dark was not a gentle soul when it came to handling their prisoner. His head was uncomfortably light and could not concentrate on much for long. His left leg bones ached with every forced movement, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side. Either one could have been mended by Roshian healers, but neither had been.
Ignoring his groans, his escort pushed harder, making him trip ingloriously over the doorway. Though he could picture the rough jailer snorting at that, sounds were yet terribly faint to him, as though he were already a ghost...
A few footsteps. Then, there was one voice which came through to him clear as day.
"Gentlemen..."
Reldin's head rose up on hearing the words and his jailer whacked it back down again, causing him to cry out. He would never forget that voice. Ignoring the hideous pain, he reached up with his working arm and fished the choking mask off his head to behold the truth.
They were in a dungeon. A more pleasant one architecturally compared to some but one could not mistake the rows of rusty shackles along the dingy walls. Particularly after the jailer forced him to one such wall, and began to ratchet up the links to his wrists.
He almost didn't care, keeping his tender eyes on the other prisoner the entire time. Not only padlocked shackles at the top and bottom, but multiple rings of chains weaved around the man like spider's silk. The ends of the chains were bound to an iron lock on the wall.
They were taking no chances with Deva-General Kaus Debonair. Though extremely filthy and overgrown, the man's pale hair was unmistakable as his voice, a clipped Highlander noble's attempt to speak a different language. "Y-you...!"
The jailer struck him again, leaving blood behind. "Me", Debonair dared follow up after all of Reldin's own locks were done up tight and inescapable, already chafing at his legs and arms. "Yes, the 'mysteriously disappeared' Deva."
"But... but! You don't understand, I met you!"
Squinting in the gloom, Debonair drew back. "Freyashalas... Is it sir Reldin? My erstwhile messenger?"
"That's me sir", he nodded with a weak cough. "Pity we couldn't meet under better circumstances. Still, it is good to see you alive. Everyone believes you to be dead!"
"Indeed?", the general nodded in disgust. "I expected as much from Rashidi Light and his lackeys. Anything to cover up the truth, whether or not the truth is of any value."
Reldin paused, for the first time considering his position in the larger scheme of things. The rebellion was his home. They might have been enemies once, but he could not deny how the brief encounter with the man had imprinted on him. Closely had he listened to Destin's tale of how their battle had gone down, hoping against all logic that neither one of them would be slain. He had nothing to lose, but he would not offer information on the rebellion unless asked.
"What happened to you, general?"
"Treachery", Debonair sniffed. "Such treachery. I recovered from my wounds at Fort Allamoot, and then journeyed to Castle Xanadu to confront the Empress on the strangeness of my orders as of late. Yet no sooner had I presented my case than I was declared a traitor." The Highlander hung his head in his chains, stained at the memory. "My own Empress... declared me a traitor to our people. And Rashidi and Prince Gares went along with her decision. Even had I fought to escape, I would be no match."
"I wish you had, pretty-boy", a new voice drifted through the dungeon. "I would have greatly enjoyed carving you up, and then this little problem wouldn't exist, now would it?"
Reldin quavered. He would have run had he been able. A dreadfully familiar colossus of spiked armor stood in the doorway, large enough that he could barely fit. He had replaced his helmet. "Prince Gares. My nursemaid.", Debonair said with more rancor than fear of the Black Knight. "To what do we owe this displeasure?"
A new helmet concealed his face, but his grim amusement was unmistakable. "Funny guy. I'm just here to make sure our newest prisoner's comfy and all. It won't be long before things start hopping around here, after all." His gauntlet reached out, feeling like the very coldest of ice upon the metal's contact with Reldin's exposed skin. "You, girly-man, just might be my ace-in-the-hole. Won't that be fun? Your life will have some actual meaning."
"If you think to stave off the rebellion with a single prisoner, not even a division leader", Debonair called from the other wall, sensing the way terror was holding Reldin stiff as a statue. "Then clearly you've reached new highs of desperation even as you continue your search for new lows. Under the code of Bael Kantos-"
Gares sprung. The move was so quick Reldin could barely follow it, pressing his spiked knuckles into Debonair's flesh and tearing away skin and tissue beneath without the need for his trademark double-handed axe. "I wasn't asking you, pretty-boy", the prince said. "And anyway, I don't need him to hold off the rebels for long. Just make them hesitate, soft-hearted fools that they are. That'll be enough. Then... then..." He chuckled. "Then it'll be the end. Of everything."
He departed, clearly enjoying leaving both men in confusion and fear over whatever it was he had planned. "You know anything about that?", Reldin asked once he had regained his breath. "The Black Knight boasts, but this sounds worse than his usual atrocities."
"I cannot say for certain", Debonair admitted, his body straining against his logic to try and pick at his new gashes. He had quite a few of them, Reldin noticed upon looking closer. "I have only a handful of clues. For one, wherever we are has a bizarre wind pattern."
Bad news. There were any number of isolated prisons built by the Empire, far enough removed from civilization so that they could never be found unless one already knew where to look. "Anything else?"
The ex-general simply nodded at the far wall, causing Reldin to finally spot their fellow prisoners through the gloom and let out a gasp. Though both were shackled to the walls in similar fashion to himself and barely conscious from a number of glaring blade injuries still dripping, none of that could conceal the golden hue of their skin, the once-pristine swan wings sweeping out of their backs, or the rings of light hovering above their heads.
"Angels...?"
Debonair looked skeptical. "I cannot say. They certainly fit the description, though it is possible Gares simply chained up a pair of unusually beautiful Eagle men in robes. They are most withdrawn- they do not speak to us even while awake, so do not bother trying."
Reldin was puzzled. On one hand, he'd heard the legends both in childhood and more recently from Father Rastaban in Kasolat. On the other... It was simply hard for a devout son of Zenobia to swallow. How could Gares find, never mind successfully capture and torture, divine beings such as these?
Finding no answers, he sagged against the wall, finally allowing the despair of their situation to sink in. "I was taken at Kastro. A lot of us were. A lot of us died, thanks to Luvalon and that bounty hunter."
"I cannot honestly cheer for you", Debonair admitted. "Right or wrong, Zeteginea is yet my homeland, and you rebels have come closer to undoing it than any of us dreamed. But I am sorry that you have once again been caught in the middle of things, sir Reldin."
"It keeps life interesting", he nodded back as best he could.
He could not ever pretend to be anything other than a low-level grunt in the rebel army, of mediocre skill on a good day. As more and more skilled fighters joined the rebellion, he had slowly been crowded out. A bystander, nothing more, marked only by how effeminate he looked. Hardly a plus. "And the Gods seem intent on forever putting us in another's path. No hard feelings for what happened at Zenobia?"
The general snorted. "You delivered my message, sir Reldin. What more could I have asked of you, an enemy? It is not your fault that Destin did something so unexpected, nor that Sage Rashidi seemed intent on actually helping him in that battle." He leaned back, flush against the wall, remembering. "Fool though he was, I shan't soon forget that one's inner fire."
Reldin agreed. He also agreed that giving away what little he knew of the rebellion's current status would be past mere friendliness between prisoners. After all, no one had seen Destin Faroda for many weeks now...
A/N: It might seem natural, but it bears mentioning I've taken it upon myself to play through the game again to refresh myself on what happens, doing each level and boss before writing the chapter. It's fun, but hoooly jumpin' is Galf HARD. Without a World card or being overlevelled, it's almost impossible for everyone to survive Meteor- he earned his status as a 'bonus boss' even if he's not as tough as the final one.
Hopefully the battle with him in my next chapter can bring that across without just having Destin and his allies lose and die. What a crappy ending that would be... )