Chapter 37 - Unlikely Bond

"Leave me," she murmured, turning away from his gaze. The chains rattled, and Celes shifted slightly, lifting her weight off her injured leg. Something was broken. She was sure of it. But her wrists were suspended above her head, held in place with chains binding them to the wall, which meant that it was impossible for her to use her healing magic.

Locke was confused. He reinserted the hairpin, jiggling the lock in a desperate attempt to set her free, and received a stern glare from the former General, her head whipping around as she looked up at him. Her eyes narrowed and she kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling on the floor.

She cried out in pain, cursing as she fell forward onto her injured leg. "Don't touch me!" she spat, still glaring at him from across the room.

"What?" He sat up slowly, a thin trickle of blood oozing from his bottom lip. "You're joking!"

"No, I'm not." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "I'd rather face my execution with pride then be led out of here by some low life theif."

"I'm not a thief! I'm a treasure hunter!"

Celes curled her lip in disgust, looking at his ragged clothes and faded bandana. "Then why do you look like you just crawled out of the back alley of Zozo?"

Locke sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is everyone in the empire completely out of their mind?" He returned to her side, moving quickly as he worked to remove her bindings. He wanted to get out of here before the guards made their rounds, or before this woman kicked his teeth in. "I'll get you out of here. I promise."

The chains slipped off her wrists, and she collapsed against his chest, gasping as his arms snaked around her waist. A second passed between them before she pulled away, stumbling to the side and falling to the floor.

Locke froze, his eyes darting towards the door. He held his breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. If the guards heard that they were as good as dead. And if Kefka was lurking in the vicinity, they'd be dead ten times over.

He'd seen the mad jester wandering the halls at night, pacing back and forth while brushing the hair on that doll of his. A doll which bore an uncanny resemblance to girl they rescued two weeks ago. The sight was unnerving, watching him walk the halls with that doll held against his chest, stooped over and mumbling to himself like some crazy old loon.

He looked back at Celes, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her conjure a shimmering orb of light in her right hand. "Good grief, not another one!" he exclaimed. "How is that everyone knows how to use magic? I mean, I know they've got some sort of training program over there, but I didn't think - "

"Shut it!" she snapped, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "I need to concentrate."

Light poured from her fingertips, revealing a bruise on the side of her face. There was dried blood on her bottom lip, her clothing stained with patches of scarlet fluid. And yet she was still alive and kicking, acting like she hadn't been beaten to within an inch of her life and dragged through the streets of South Figaro.

He was impressed with her resiliency. This former General of the Imperial army was more than just a pretty face. She was strong, one of the finest soldiers to ever graduate from the academy of magical arts. And yet she was willing to throw it all away for the sake of her pride.

Locke turned around when he heard the sound of footsteps in the distance. He didn't want to stick around long enough to see who it was, and grabbed Celes by the hand before she had time to finish casting her spell.

"Come on! The guards are coming. We have to get out of here."

He practically ran with her out into the hallway, the young woman tripping as she tried to keep up with him. When he saw her struggling, he positioned her arm around his neck and shoulder, supporting her with his arm around her waist as they all but ran from the building. It wasn't until they made it downstairs that she had time to stop and finish the spell she started.

"You son of a bitch!" she snarled, wincing as she conjured a second orb of light. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You practically flung me over your shoulder like a cave man before running out of there."

Locke held up his hands, taking a step back as he attempted to distance himself from the irate spell caster. "Look, lady, I'm sorry for interrupting what I'm sure was an otherwise pleasant day, but there's no way I'm leaving you to die in a place like this."

The former General shot him a dirty look before turning her attention to orb in her hand. "Who are you anyway?" she asked, watching as the light grew stronger and formed into a pulsating mass of energy. She held her hand over her leg, letting the light penetrate her skin as it began healing her injuries. "And why do you care what happens to me?"

Locke rubbed the back of his head, his eyes traveling over the torches that lined the walls. "Sheesh," he muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?" He looked back at her and said, "The name's Locke. Although you probably would have remembered that if you weren't so out of it when I found you."

"I came around quickly enough," she said, frowning as she followed him down the hall and out into the fresh air.

She recoiled as the sunlight reached her eyes, and raised a hand to shield herself from the glare of the sun. Locke glanced sideways up the street, looking this way and that before running into the trees that lined the edge of the city. When he looked back, Celes was still lingering in the doorway. He waved to her, motioning for her to come forward.

Celes hesitated before moving towards him. She knew that going with him meant that she could never come back, that she was now a tratior, an outcast who had turned against her country and all it stood for. But there was no time to think about that now. She'd made her choice, and was it time to go, leaving it all behind as she stepped into the woods and began her new life with the Returners.

.oOo.

Needless to say, Kefka was not pleased when word got out that Celes had managed to escape. The resulting tantrum was enough to cause the mansion he was staying in to go up in flames, with Imperial soldiers screaming and running for their lives as they fled the burning building.

One of the soldiers barely managed to make it out the door when he was snatched by the clownish mage. Kefka sunk his nails into the man's throat, his lips curling in a grotesque snarl as he watched the unfortunate soldier twisting and writhing. His fellow soldiers watched in horror as Kefka lifted him off the ground, his painted features illuminated by the flickering firelight.

"Find her," Kefka hissed, his eyes never leaving the soldier's face. There was a brief pause, the flames rising towards the heavens as glowing embers danced on the wind. A muscle twitched over his left eye, his lips curled as a sadistic grin spread from ear to ear, and suddenly he was laughing. Laughing and screaming and cursing everything in existence.

Once it started he couldn't stop. The soldier was dying, with warm rivulets of blood streaming down his neck as Kefka's claws dug into his flesh. Images of his life flashed before his eyes, with nothing but Kefka's cruel, harsh laughter ringing in his ears. There was a moment, one final glance at the world around him as his body hit the ground. He could see the mad jester standing over him, still cackling and dancing amid the flames. It was the last thing he saw before blackness consumed him, his senses failing as Kefka's laughter echoed in the stillness of the warm summer air.

Hours passed before the flames died down, the citizens doing all they could to prevent the fire from spreading throughout city. In the end a total of fourteen buildings were lost before the crazed magician settled down, and even then the fires were still burning in his blood. His body was surrounded by undulating waves of heat, his skin was hot to the touch, and wherever he went people scattered like flies, hoping to avoid contact with the irritated jester.

The innkeeper ducked and hid behind the counter when he saw Kefka coming down the hall. "Sir," he said in a feeble voice. "Mr. Palazzo, I have something for you."

Kefka stopped, glaring over his shoulder at the innkeeper. He was just about to set the man on fire when a trembling hand reached out from behind the counter.

"A letter arrived, sir. From the Emperor." The innkeeper held out the envelope, hoping against hope that he wouldn't get burned alive for speaking to the Emperor's precious pet.

Kefka snatched the envelope out of his hand. Bits of paper went flying as he tore it open and started reading. A smile slowly crept across his painted face. This was what he'd been waiting for. A letter from Gesthal stating that he was to leave for Doma first thing in the morning. He threw his head back and laughed, then reached over the counter and positioned his hand in front of the innkeeper's face. The man behind the counter screamed, the noise lingering in the air as first his clothing then his body was reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash.

Kefka retreated to a room in the back of the inn, his heart still beating frantically against his ribs. Setting fire to the mansion and watching it burn to the ground wasn't enough. It never was. He still needed a release, some form of death and destruction to calm his nerves. That idiot doctor back at the palace didn't understand. He would have prescribed more useless medication, more drugs, more pills, as if any of that helped ease the tremors in his hands. It was a complete and utter waste of time, which were his exact words the last time Dr. Cid tried giving him something for the neurological damage that resulted from the experiments he'd undergone.

It was always like this, his heart racing as he reached for the vase and hurled it against the wall. The tremors wouldn't subside until he found a way to rid himself of the excessive amount of magic and hatred flowing through his viens. Anger and hatred and absolute disgust. Disgust because he hated her, because Celes always had to be little miss perfect.

"That's it, though," he whispered, his fingers closing around a glass he snatched off the counter. "That's the problem. There's nothing wrong with her. She's too good. And right now all that purity and goodness is cavorting through the fields with that scum from the Returners."

Kefka hated being in her presence. Whenever he was near her it felt as though those pure, perfect little walls were closing in on him. It was like being suffocated beneath a reminder that he would never be free from this nightmarish affliction. And all the while he had to look at her, a fine creation, just as beautiful and unique as the snowflakes she crafted with her own two hands.

He filled the glass with water, then stood in front of the fireplace and concentrated on the energy pooling in his hands. His magic was imbalanced due to the stress and upset caused by losing Celes. He could tell because of the intense heat radiating from his skin, as well as the red splotches on his hands and fingers that were visible when he removed his makeup. A fireball began to form in his left hand, and when it was fully formed he tossed it in the fireplace, igniting the logs that had been stacked against the cold, stone wall.

His eyes followed the movement of the dancing flames, his hand trembling as he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip of water. He thought he could hear her voice, the sound haunting him even though she was probably a hundred miles away. Every now and then the burning firewood would crackle and pop. There, a tiny spark, one that contained the image of her face, her blond hair blowing in the wind.

Kefka was still staring into the fireplace when the glass he was holding started to crack. It was her. It was always her. The frost on the window, the icicles clinging to the branches. How dare she flaunt her abilities, mocking his imperfections everywhere she went. A person like that shouldn't be allowed to live. She shouldn't live or move or breathe a single breath or...

"Eeyaaaahh!"

He clenched his fists, screaming as the glass shattered in his hand. Blood trickled past his wrist, scarlet drops upon the hardwood floor. He didn't even know, didn't feel when the shards pierced his skin. Pain was just a distant memory, insignificant when compared to everything he'd gone through during the last thirteen years.

A chuckle, low in his throat as he doubled over, taking a step forward then pausing when another fit of laughter started building in his chest. Let her run. Let her seek shelter with the Returners. She could protest the war all she wanted. It wouldn't stop him from murdering everyone in Doma. And when he was done with them he was coming for her.

.oOo.

The ground crumbled beneath his feet as he neared the ledge. Pieces of rock mixed with a generous portion of soil fell into the water, forming ripples that spread across the surface. Locke knelt beside the edge of the spring, dipped his bandana in the water, then used it to wash the sweat and grime off his face. Celes was standing beside him, her arms folded over her chest.

"Why do you wear that filthy thing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"It's not filthy. It's well seasoned." The earth shook beneath his feet, and he looked up at the ceiling. "This place feels like it's going to collapse. And is it just me, or does it feel like something is burrowing through the ground?"

Celes rolled her eyes. "Well seasoned," she muttered. She turned on heel and marched towards the mouth of the cave.

"Hey, wait up!" Locke stood up and ran towards her. He only managed a few steps before the tremors increased in strength, causing him to stumble and almost fall flat on his face as the ground rocked and split open at his feet.

Celes looked back when she heard him scream, and saw the wall collapse as large machine burrowed through layers of rock and soil. She recognized the machine as one she'd seen in the empire. This mechanical beast, equiped with steel claws and drill for boring through solid rock was a type of tunnel armor. They'd been using it in Narshe to reach the chamber with the frozen Esper. But what was it doing down here in the cave of Figaro?

"Get back!" Celes shouted, drawing her sword and running forward. There was a blinding flash, and Locke fell backwards as he heard her scream. Lightning crackled in the air around them, ricocheting off the walls and splitting boulders in two. For a moment he thought they were going to be fried to a crisp. But as he watched the lighting began to change direction, forming one long strand that snaked its way through the air where it was absorbed by Celes' sword.

The former General smirked. "And to think you were worried about protecting me."

Locke's jaw dropped. "What did you just do?"

"It's called Runic. It let's me absorb magic and use it as fuel to cast spells." She braced herself for the next attack as the tunnel armor clicked and whirred, moving back and preparing to launch another attack. "Locke, it's coming right at you!"

The tunnel armor roared to life, charging full speed ahead while firing a barrage of lasers. He was able to doge most of the supercharged rays of light, thanks in part to the experience he received from years of living and training on the outskirts of Zozo. However there were those that found their mark, burning through the worn fabric of his jacket as a stray beam grazed his shoulder.

Several of the laser beams struck the ground, sending up clouds of dirt and debris as he ran to escape the burning onslaught, while another managed to strike him in the leg as he turned and leapt up onto the back of the machine. Flames spewed from the mouth of the mechanical beast as it went in overdrive, ramming the wall as it attempted to shake him off. Locke clung to the machine for dear life, watching as the sea of flames parted before the former General.

Celes rasied her sword, causing the smoke and flames to form a spiral that illuminated the air above her. These twisting strands of smoke and fire met at the tip of her sword where they were absorbed into the polished blade.

"Here!" She threw her sword to Locke. "Finish it!"

Locke acted without hesitation, gripping the blade with both hands and driving it into the space between the metal plating and the belt the moved the wheels. The blade stuck in the gears, jamming the machine as it tried to move forward. Sparks flew, the gears shifting and rotating to as the tunnel armor jerked forward, moved back an inch, then slammed into the wall.

Black smoke started pouring from the back of the machine, letting him know that it was time to leave. He leapt onto the ground and ran after Celes, fleeing into the moonlight as they escaped the cave. Within seconds the ground began to shake, and an explosion rocked the earth as the machine short circuited and caught on fire.

"I thought you said you were going to protect me," said Celes, her hands on her hips as she waited for Locke to join her outside the cave. "And here I am, saving your sorry hide from one of the empire's fire spewing behemoths."

Locke looked at her and groaned. She smiled at him, knowing that he would have been flattened or burnt to a crisp if he tried battling that monstrosity on his own.

"You are going to get me killed faster than that thing ever will." Locke coughed and doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after running the last quarter of a mile uphill through the cave. Celes, on the other hand, wasn't even winded. "What are you? Some kind of super woman?"

"I'm an artificially enhanced Rune Knight," she said with an air of importance. "I'm also a former General, and a top ranking member of the Imperial army."

"Yeah? So why'd you leave then?"

Her smile quickly faded. "Kefka."

"That's a good enough explanation for me." Locke stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants. "I've seen enough of that loony tunes zombie to last a life time." He adjusted his bandana, then turned and looked at the sky.

A cold wind was blowing over the open fields between them and Figaro, sending bruised and blackened clouds skirting across the moon. Every now and then the wind would pick up, revealing a silver sphere nestled between the clouds. The air was crisp and clean, the grass damp beneath his the soles of his shoes. It looked as though they'd just missed getting caught in a rainstorm.

Locke swore under his breath, cursing his luck as he tried to locate the north star between the gaps in the clouds. "We came out there," he said, turning and pointing to the cave. "That's north. The mountains go north and Figaro is in the east. So we need to follow the mountains until we reach Narshe. If we're lucky, we might reach it in five to six days. Four if we move with a purpose. Hey, is something wrong?"

Celes had a faraway look in her eyes, watching as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. She couldn't help wondering where Terra was and if she was alright. She hadn't been informed of the altercation that took place at Figaro castle, and to the best of her knowledge Terra was still lost somewhere.

"Celes? That is your name, isn't it?" Locke reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. He later regretted his decision when she spun around, seized him by the wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. "Dammit, Celes! Will you drop the General act already? My arm feels like it's going to rip right out of its socket!"

She hesitated before letting him go, frowning as he fell forward and collapsed onto his knees. "Keep your hands to yourself, and then you won't have to worry about losing limbs. Or anything else I feel the need to forcefully remove from your anatomy."

Locke winced when he heard her say said that. As strong as she was, Celes could probably decapitate anyone who looked at her funny. Though he had a feeling she wasn't talking about slicing off people's heads. She would probably aim for something lower.

He slowly got to his feet, muttering curses as he removed his vest to examine the wound. The wound wasn't as serious as he first thought. It was more of a burn that had been made worse by Celes when grabbed him and twisted his arm. He then looked up from examining his wound and started when he saw Celes with another glowing orb in her right hand.

"Do you want me to heal that for you?" she asked, sounding fairly annoyed. It was like everything pissed her off, and no matter what he did nothing helped improve her mood.

"No. It's fine, thanks." Locke dabbed at the corner of the wound with his handkerchief. "Believe me, I've had much worse."

Celes wrinkled her nose in disgust when the saw the layer of dirt and grime that covered the torn strip of fabric. Was everything he owned covered in filth? He disgusted her to no end, but unlike Kefka Celes had enough class not to make a stink over it.

She absorbed the ball of energy into her palm, sighed, and glanced up at the clouds. "We should go. It looks like it could rain again any second now. And from the looks of it, it would probably be the first bath you've had in weeks." She then turned on heel and began following the mountains north.

"Hey, wait up!" Locke called after her. He stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket, then ran after her while attempting to put his vest on. "Why do I get the feeling that this is going to be a long journey?"

"Quit your whining," she snapped at him. "It's not like I volunteered to come along with you."

Yes, this was going to be a very long journey indeed.