Chapter Thirty-Seven: Rising Up
"Ramza!" Izlude called, leaning precariously over the stone rampart.
The Dark Knight lie face down, merely an arm's length from the edge of the land that Altima had torn from the earth below. Perched upon the rocks and soil, both arms stretched out at his sides, Ramza did not move. Fear gripped Izlude's heart as he searched for a way to reach his friend, his gaze crawling across the stone wall. There were no handholds for an easy trip down, and after a moment the young knight realized there was no way he would be able to scale the wall.
Running both hands through his hair, he shouted down to Ramza once more, uncertain what else to do. A fall like that, even for a man as sound of body as Ramza, could be devastating. Izlude was beginning to despair, when a slight movement forced him to lean closer. Ramza shifted, his arms moving a little across the grass and dirt, and Izlude breathed a sigh of relief. If nothing else, the man was alive, and that was all he could have asked for.
There was nothing else Izlude could do for his friend, so with trepidation he turned away, and strode along the wall of the fort. Ramza knew the garrison better than anyone, and if he was still in the fight, he would find his way in. While his allies battled below, Izlude knew what his role would be; to help end this war as swiftly as possible.
Reaching the inner courtyard of the fort, and taking the first step down from the rampart, the knight noticed three hulking forms below. As one the Lucavi turned toward him, their collective dark gaze locking onto him as he slowly descended the stairs. They made no move to attack as he reached the courtyard that sprawled out before the fort proper, instead the three demons stared on impassively.
Izlude knew them each by name, and his eyes narrowed as he slowly approached the Lucavi. Velius stood directly in his path, flanked by his ilk on either side, all four massive arms crossed over his barrel chest. Izlude only glanced at him for a moment before his gaze slipped over to the other Lucavi.
Exodus, the Judge, stood at the right hand of the demon, dark armor reflecting the waning light of day. Aside from a pair of crimson, murderous eyes beneath a massive helm, there was nothing visible of the Lucavi itself. The creature stood taller than most of its brethren, its body completely covered in the armor of its station. Exodus was a menacing and powerful demon; built for combat more than any of its counterparts.
On the left was Famfrit, whose name came to Izlude as though he had known the Lucavi personally. The knowledge of the demon, as with all the others in their unholy order, was forever engrained in his mind. It was impossible to tell if the demon was man or woman, and even his extensive knowledge of the abyss told him nothing. Famfrit was an imposing creature in its own right, with a length of heavy chain wrapped tightly around its only arm, on the right side, a dark mist drifting lazily around its narrow torso. Famfrit's face was hidden behind a blank mask, its senses not limited by mortal means. Izlude knew in the back of his mind what these demons were capable of, yet still he strode toward them without fear.
"Stand aside," The knight said calmly, his gaze travelling between the guardians of the Bloody Angel. "I am here to see my father."
The three Lucavi regarded him silently for a long moment, without moving into a defensive position or allowing him to pass. A subtle breeze drifted across the courtyard, carrying the whispers of the abyss upon it, and as one the demons nodded their assent. Having received their orders from the Lucavi who commanded their allegiance, the three guards moved aside. Without a sideways glance, Izlude passed between them, his gaze locked on the heavy door to the fort, where Vormav waited.
With a sigh of frustration, Celia dusted her clothes off. The woman's skin was coated with grime from the aft section of the Valefor, which rested on the ground near her. Not far off, Lede took the time to dab at the small wound on her forehead, as annoyed as her twin at their predicament. No sooner had the women joined each other than a massive explosion lit up the sky, and the assassins looked skyward.
The black dragon fell, writhing, as the Peacemaker's final shot rendered it grounded. Celia, however, was unconcerned about the Lucavi beast. Her eyes remained locked on the front half of the Valefor, as it was slowly cast to the earth. The momentum from the cannon had forced the Lucavi airship to capsize, dragged downward by the weight of the Valefor that still hung tenaciously to it. With a slight feeling of sadness, an emotion with which Celia wasn't very familiar, the woman watched as the Valefor and its Captain crashed to the earth.
"There's nothing we can do for him now." Lede said quietly, taking her sister's hand gently.
Leaving Mustadio to his fate, the women turned instead to the steel golem that rested in a heap nearby. They approached Rattletrap slowly, silently thanking the machine. In the last moment of the fall, when the two women were certain they wouldn't see the light of another day, Rattletrap had saved them, hurling both women clear as the airship struck the ground.
The steel golem did not move as they reached it, both legs trapped beneath the wreckage of the Valefor. It's normally inquisitive, red gaze had gone dark, and it showed no signs of life. As one the two assassins kneeled next to it, placing a hand on Rattletrap's chest, before rising and departing. There was still a battle to be won, and their expertise and skill would no doubt be appreciated.
The two women took off at a run, swiftly approaching the mass of demons and men ahead of them, the tall grass beneath their feet a blur. When it came to sheer speed and agility, there were few in Ivalice who were a match for Celia and Lede, and the women took great pride in their abilities. They reached the battlefield in short order, hardly winded by their rapid approach, and immediately jumped into the fray.
Remaining at the fringes of the battle, the two women joined the Touten soldiers that pushed against the Lucavi forces. The knights on both fronts of the skirmish had managed to cover a lot of ground since last the twins had looked upon the struggle below the Valefor, and it seemed the demons were hard pressed to match the resolve of desperate men.
With unerring skill and accuracy, Celia and Lede quickly dispatched any of the Lucavi minions that came near, opting for the men the demons had corrupted over the less intelligent creatures that came from the abyss. The two women took such a toll in so short a time that the demons were forced to group together, hoping for strength in numbers as the assassins took them apart one by one.
Taking a breath of stagnate air, Celia snatched a small sword from the earth and buried it in the neck of one of the creatures near her, before stepping back to pick her next target. It was then that she saw the swordsman, his long strides closing the distance, as he cut his way through any that stood in his path, demon or man.
The assassin recognized the silver haired warrior immediately, and shot a knowing look at her sister. Lede nodded silently to her, sending another of the Lucavi minions sprawling in the dirt before arriving at her sister's side. Marquis Elmdore seemed entirely unconcerned with all that occurred around him, as he stalked toward the two assassins.
Sensing his purpose, the women pulled away from the battle to stand alone in what little unspoiled grass remained in the valley. There they waited, relaxed and unafraid, as Elmdore approached them. The Marquis of Limberry came to a halt not ten paces from them, blood drenched Masamune held tightly in one hand.
"I had been hoping to find you here." The silver haired noble said, a devious smirk touching his lips.
"You aren't still sore from Bervenia, are you?" Lede said calmly, returning his dark smile with one of her own.
"I've no doubt your vanguard are, at least." Celia added. "We worked them over pretty well."
There was no anger or frustration on Elmdore's face as he stared at the women, and that unnerved Celia for some reason. He'd been something of a spiteful, arrogant man when she'd seen him last, and had been certain their casual insults would get under his skin. Yet Elmdore remained even tempered, that dark smirk still plastered to his face.
"May I?" Lede asked, glancing sideways at her sister.
"By all means." Celia replied casually, conceding her the field.
With a grin of anticipation, Lede shifted one foot, and vanished from sight. A hiss of displacement announced her movement, as the assassin disappeared and crossed the distance between the Marquis and her position in an instant. By the time Celia turned her head, her sister had reappeared at Elmdore's side, and at that same moment the man's slender fingers wrapped around the woman's throat.
Celia stood in shocked silence, as the man lifted her sibling from the ground with no effort. He'd managed to not only anticipate her attack, but possessed the speed to rotate his entire body and snatch the woman by the neck. Celia moved without a second thought, her entire form blinking out of sight in an instant, as she came to Lede's aid.
The assassin appeared along Elmdore's flank, the edge of her hand already flying toward the taller man's sword arm. The twins possessed a unique knowledge of the human body, and knew precisely where to aim a strike to cause the most pain and damage. So great was their skill that they were capable of stripping the feeling from an exposed limb, rendering it paralyzed for a short time as that appendage recovered. However, before Celia could land that precise blow above Elmdore's elbow, she found herself knocked away.
Marquis Elmdore's knee had snapped up in a blur of motion, slamming into Celia's gut the moment she appeared. The impact lifted the woman bodily into the air, and sent her flying into the soft grass, a short distance away. Sucking in a ragged breath, the assassin sat up, shocked resignation touching her features.
"What are you?" The woman asked quietly, as she quickly rose to her feet.
"I am the future." Elmdore replied through a grim smile, his teeth clenched so hard they should have cracked.
With a flick of his wrist, the man hurled Lede away, the assassin flipping in the air to land in a crouch. Coughing, her windpipe still constricted by his vice grip, she leapt back up. A snarl touched the assassin's lips as she dove at Elmdore again. The Marquis easily stepped outside of her first strike, and moved his curved blade up to rest on his shoulder. With a smile of satisfaction, the man quickly evaded each of Lede's thrusts, their movements a blur as Celia looked on. Lede had always been the quicker of the two women, and watching this man, who once had given them no pause, Celia was shocked to realize that he was faster.
Ducking swiftly below one of Lede's jabs, Elmdore kicked the woman's ankle viciously, putting her off balance. In the same instant he brought his sword arm forward, and hit the woman like a hammer. The man's elbow and the hilt of the Masamune impacted simultaneously, striking the woman in both the chest and the mouth. Lede reeled from the blow, stumbling away and regaining her footing, as Elmdore casually stood again.
Celia knew they couldn't risk prolonging this fight, not when he was this dangerous. Snapping both hands behind her, the woman gripped the handles of the weapons holstered there. With a smooth jerk Celia yanked the pistols free, grateful that they had both spent time learning how to operate the weapons with Mustadio. She brought the two guns around in unison, and fired the moment she had Elmdore in her sights.
The Marquis shifted on one foot, bringing his sword around and rolling one shoulder back. Sidling back, the man brought the slim blade of the Masamune down, as the first bullet passed close enough to his arm to ruffle the fabric of his shirt. The second round struck his blade with a resonating cry, the sword ringing as he deflected it away.
Anger surged in Celia, as her sister took that moment to draw the pair of pistols she had carried as well. It wasn't possible, his speed; it had to be some illusion, some trick. As Lede brought her weapons around, firing both of them, Celia closed on Elmdore.
In one motion the man sidestepped the elbow she launched at his nose, using the blade of the Masamune to deflect Lede's first shot. The second managed to catch Elmdore along his flank, sinking into his side just below the ribs. Despite the bullet tearing through his flesh, the man seemed to give the wound no pause, roughly grasping Celia's shirt.
He turned in place, throwing the woman away as though she weighed nothing at all, and slashing downward with his sword. An arcing blade of wind tore from the tip of the Masamune, ripping through the air toward Celia as she flew. Shielding her face with both arms, the woman was assaulted by the sword art, several gashes appearing across her sides and shoulders.
Sliding across the grass upon landing, the woman rolled to her feet, sharp pain flowing from the bloody cuts to her body, as Lede struck. The assassin appeared behind Elmdore while his concentration was elsewhere, and leapt into the air. Rotating, the woman slammed her knee into the back of the man's head, jolting the Marquis forward for an instant.
Turning with the blow, Elmdore backhanded Lede, the impact loud against her cheek as the woman was knocked roughly to the ground. No sooner had she landed in the grass than he raised one hand, a muttered word leaving his lips. Tendrils of crimson surged from Lede's chest, as the man began to drain the very life's blood from her.
Celia was already moving as the horrific man assaulted her sister, slamming one foot into his left knee to distract him. The spell was broken off before it could do more damage, as the Marquis raised his sword above him. A wave of energy burst from the Masamune, exploding outward in all directions. The force was enough to lift Celia off of her feet, and send Lede, her skin a mottled gray pallor, sliding through the grass and dirt.
Landing harshly, her breath catching in her throat, Celia struggled to regain her footing, as Elmdore turned his gaze onto her. The man was faster than them, but together they had a chance, if it wasn't for that blasted sword. The Masamune compounded his strength and speed, and with it in his grasp the assassins couldn't stay close enough to cause any lasting damage.
As Celia rose to her feet, gasping, Elmdore raised his sword, a look of sick pleasure dominating his features. The Masamune came down, the air parting in its wake, and Celia knew she couldn't get out of the way. She could feel the power that was being unleashed as it fell, as it seemed to draw the very breath from her.
A wave of darkness passed over the woman from behind, washing over her in an instant, blocking out everything for that split second. The flood of black magic continued around and over her, leaving the woman unscathed as it rushed past. In a terrible impact, the black wave struck the sword skill Elmdore unleashed, tearing away the very ground beneath the Marquis' feet.
Following in its wake, with a rough cry of battle, was Gaffgarion. He held a massive gold sword in both hands, high above his head, as Elmdore dispelled the last of the mingling energy that had exploded in front of him. The Dark Knight used that moment of surprise to his advantage, slamming Excalibur down on the Marquis' raised sword.
The two legendary blades met in a shower of sparks, as darkness poured from Gaff's hands. It met with the spirit of Elmdore's own weapon, struggling for dominance as Gaffgarion forced his sword down harder. A brilliant flash announced the displacement of that power, staggering Celia as its energy rammed into her. With what sounded like a tortured scream the Masamune shattered just above the hilt, as Excalibur was thrown from Gaff's grasp.
The Marquis of Limberry fell onto his rear, fear registering in his face for the first time. Neither man held a weapon, unless one counted what remained of the broken sword in Elmdore's hand, but Gaffgarion wasted not a moment before pressing on. One meaty fist slammed into Elmdore's face, laying him out completely in the grass.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Gaff said scathingly, yanking the Marquis up by the collar to punch him again.
The man looked disoriented as he scrambled to his feet, the loss of his precious sword sapping a good deal of his power, and Celia knew this was the time to strike. Rolling lithely forward, the woman closed one hand around the broken blade of the Masamune. Ignoring the pain as it cut into her palm, she stepped forward quickly.
With a swift thrust the woman drove the point of the shattered sword into Elmdore's ribs, burying it deep, as Gaff bent to retrieve Excalibur. Elmdore rose to his knees, his breath a ragged hiss as he raised one hand. Magical energy pooled around his palm, as Celia dove clear of the spell that would soon follow. She expected Gaffgarion to do the same, and was impressed to see the elderly knight stride right up to the Marquis' face.
Gaff took the man's wrist in a vice grip, halting his deadly spell mid cast, and bent Elmdore's arm viciously to the side. With a look of grim satisfaction the Dark Knight raised the sword of Thundergod Cid, and brought it around in a swift arc. Blood splashed across the knight as Elmdore's head separated from his shoulders, his brilliant silver hair marred by his scarlet.
Beowulf awoke with a start, his head pounding. It took the knight a moment to recall what had happened, as he slowly moved to hands and knees. Aliste lay a short distance away, eyes closed and breath shallow. Beowulf coughed, shaking his head to clear it, before he crawled to the man's side. The Gryphon was stunned, but there seemed to be no serious injuries on him.
As Beowulf rose shakily to his feet, his attention was drawn to a queer sound nearby. Punctuated by the shallow roars of the beast was a strange snapping sound, as he gazed at the fallen black dragon. Before his eyes the creature began to change, its body contorting in ways that shouldn't have been possible. Its mass quickly compacted, the creature shrinking rapidly in the tramped grass where it had landed. Beowulf stumbled toward it, casting his gaze about for the sword he had dropped upon landing.
It seemed that the fireball had sapped the strength from it, stealing away whatever dark magic had spawned the beast. As Beowulf neared, he felt a cold hand grip his heart, as the dragon neared the end of its transformation. Its double jointed limbs snapped and popped, as the scales fell away, revealing an all too human hand below. Watching in disgust, Beowulf felt his mouth fall open as the dark dragon transformed into the only man he truly despised.
"Buremonda." Beowulf said, his voice a whisper as the man rose fluidly to his feet.
"I never expected to see you here." The former priest, said, chuckling. "But I must say I'm happy I have."
Beowulf snarled, reaching to his side only to realize he had no sword to draw. All he had was a single dagger tucked into his boot, which wouldn't allow him the use of his skills. Buremonda laughed richly, as he stalked toward the knight.
"You can't imagine the power they have given me." He said, madness in his eyes. "Here, allow me to show you."
Opening his mouth, Buremonda sucked in a deep breath. His jaw unhinged as he drew air into his lungs, his mouth falling agape far more than should be physically possible. Beowulf could only look on in horror, and in the back of his mind he knew what would follow.
"It's a pity you'll die without seeing Reis again!" The man roared, deep in his throat, as orange light rolled upward from his chest.
Flames leapt past the man's lips, superheated air washing over Beowulf, as the inferno seared the grass between them. Rolling and writhing as though it had a life of its own, the fire shot toward Beowulf, as the knight stood his ground. Beowulf covered his face with one arm, reaching for the dagger in his boot. When the flames engulfed him he would throw the blade, seeking the man's throat. He would be certain that Reis would be safe, even with his dying breath.
The love of his life saved him from that fate. Reis sidled in front of Beowulf, his sword gripped tightly in her right hand. The woman snapped her other arm up, as the flames sought to consume them. From her hand came an explosion of chilled air, shards of ice spewing out to halt the inferno in its tracks. With a look of anger and determination, Reis stepped forward, forcing the fire to ebb.
She rushed forward; the forgotten magic she had learned from the beasts she had lived among displacing Buremonda's superheated breath. Beowulf could see the look of shocked resignation on the man's face as Reis reached him, glacial shards forcing the flames back into his face.
Bringing Beowulf's sword to bear, Reis stepped forward, both hands finding its hilt. The woman buried the blade into Buremonda's chest unceremoniously, as the priest struggled to understand how she stood before him. It had never occurred to him that it was truly possible to lift the curse, which had left Reis in the form of the same dragons that had fought beside them on this day.
"I'm right here, you bastard." The woman whispered maliciously, before yanking the sword free from his chest.
The sky was beautiful, brilliant shades of orange and yellow encroaching on blue as the sun set in the distance. Staring up at it, it was possible to believe that the world wasn't ending all around him. Hell, if Mustadio hadn't been in so much pain, he might have believed he had died and gone to paradise. It took the machinist a moment to realize that his vision was impaired, and only one of his eyes was seeing the beauty of the sky in the waning light of day.
Reaching up, he felt warm blood along the left side of his face, flowing lightly from his injured eye. Darkness dominated that side of his vision, as Mustadio struggled to sit up. He quickly discovered, upon falling back to the earth, that his other arm was useless. Putting weight on it had been a bad idea, as sharp pain shot through his shoulder and across his chest. Coughing weakly, the machinist gave up on rising for the moment.
He wasn't certain how much time had passed, as he lay on the soft grass, but the sound of approaching footfalls forced him up. Struggling up with his good arm, he took in the smoke and haze of the nearby Valefor, mangled and burning where it had crashed. Squinting through the acrid fog, he saw the form approaching from the downed Lucavi airship, and groped for his pistol.
It wasn't at his side, and it took the man a moment to see it with his impaired vision. Falling onto his uninjured side, he slowly crawled toward the three barreled gun, wincing as each movement sent a spike of pain up his back. Sprawling out, Mustadio reached for the pistol, snaring it with his fingers and quickly bringing the weapon around. He halted, breath catching in his throat, as his father stood over him.
Besrodio was a shadow of the man he had once been, gray lines forming a web around cracked lips. Dark circles wrapped around his eyes, as the man stared down at Mustadio, his own weapon trained on the young machinist. Silence reigned in Mustadio's mind, the sound of the burning Valefor and light breeze vanishing, as fear gripped him.
"Father?" He said, ashamed of how his voice cracked.
Besrodio's finger tightened over the trigger of his gun, as something passed over his eyes. At the last moment the man's hand snapped to the side, the bullet he fired kicking up dirt as it struck the earth near Mustadio's head. Hand shaking, the aging Machinist struggled to lower the weapon.
"Mustadio," He wheezed, his entire body trembling. "Kill me. Do it, now, before I lose control again."
Mustadio was unable to stop the tears that fell down his cheek, blurring the vision in his one good eye. He'd never believed it would come to this; turning his weapon on his own father. Before this day, he'd have told himself he could never have taken the shot. Staring in the face of the corrupted form of the man who had been his inspiration, he wasn't certain he could now.
"Please." The man continued, closing his eyes. "Release me from this curse."
With a shallow nod, tears forming streaks through the dirt on his face, Mustadio pulled the trigger.
The Impenetrable Fortress, Bethla Garrison. The daunting title matched its appearance, as the fortified structure loomed overhead. Sunlight danced off the outer walls of the fort, as Ramza in turn danced around them. Now, as he had in what felt like another lifetime, he slipped silently into its waiting arms.
He'd been drawn out of the darkness by a gentle nudge on the shoulder, and had found himself lying outside of the ramparts, a familiar beak prodding him. Atro had found him unconscious and roused him, one of his wings tucked close to his side. The chocobo wasn't able to fly, that much was clear, and Ramza had ordered him to wait outside of the walls. It had taken insistence to get the bird to listen, but with a slight huff Atro had settled down next to the fort.
Ramza rolled some of the ache from his shoulder from the fall, as he crept into the fort. He still remembered the night he had stolen away from the Northern Sky, finding refuge within the walls of Bethla, and a life he may have never had otherwise. With a small smile he recalled instantly all that had happened since then, focusing on the good memories as they came to him.
If not for this fort he would have never met any of the companions that had followed him here. He would not have been the man he was now, and it surprised him to realize how much he had missed the familiar halls he passed through. This was the place he and Izlude had laughed over dinner with the Knight Blades, where he had spent nights staring at the stars, and where he had fallen in love.
As he climbed the stairs to the inner sanctum of the fort, running his fingers across the familiar stone beside him, aware of what lie ahead, he found a sense of peace and warmth. This was home.
Author's Note: Wanted to get some quick closure for the ground battle, as well as give Elmdore what he deserved. That fight was rather fun for me, because before that Celia and Lede are pretty much the fastest thing on two legs. It was a little humbling for the assassins, I'd think. Plus I just loved having Gaff pound the pretty-boy monster's face in.
Wanted to finish all that up so that I could move on to the real battle, which is taking place high above. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts and predictions, if they're up to writing them out. Definitely a bit more to go, what with all the Lucavi now accounted for!
Dark Triad: Glad you liked how the air battle came out. I had my misgivings about it, but I pretty much doubt everything I put out.
KnightOfHolyLight: Your wish is granted, and the twins live. I just roughed them up a little is all.
There's two chapters left in the final battle, sorry it ended up taking so long. I really intended it to only be like, four chapters total.