From Weston's Log, p 3
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The 'War of Civil Unrest' is official, on both sides, that is. Yuna sent a cute little ultimatum to Nyka about a day after his own announcement of war. It was her last ditch effort to thwart this, but, as if it took much time to figure out, Nyka's not budging. Neither is Yuna.
I have to commend her strong refusal. It's certainly more drive than she showed in the past. I have a feeling she's starting to understand just what Nyka's up to.
The wait, I have to say, is the worst. Nyka's reply to Yuna's ultimatum was sending two thousand merry little troops on their way towards Kilika. Yuna, in return, hastily sent a thousand or so Crusaders into Kilika, with the promise of more, fortifying the city. I, of course, volunteered. My home is the battlefield. Besides, Besaid isn't much of an exciting place, despite the nice people.
Speaking of Besaid, that's where the Crusader's have migrated. That's roughly around fourty thousand guys populating the small island. Well, make that thirty nine thousand now.
Yuna's holed up in the temple, making it her headquarters. She supposed to take an -escorted- trip to Luca soon to see if she can grab some support. Luca's pretty big, so I don't expect -all- of the people there to support us, but I feel we'll be able to get some troops and money from them.
It's really sad. It's almost as if Yuna's having to start her own nation. An army, money (they call it Gil, I call it money. It buys crap and jingles, so it's money to me, no matter what they call it), and politics to deal with.
After that incident in Kilika, nothing's been the same in Spira, and it'll never be the same again. The people of Spira are used to fighting monsters, not themselves. This war isn't going to be pretty. It's going to fuck with just about every person sane enough to comprehend it.
Sitting here at my post allows me quite some time to think. And being a thinking soldier in a war is not the best position to be in. You have to be a "doing" soldier. Otherwise, you're dead. You can't think of what you're doing. You can't reflect on how many people were affected by the kill you just made. Children, wives, relatives, all affected by one simple life. And you. You as the soldier, not the man, take that life away from those people, because it's all a game. A game of kill or be killed.
A soldier is a pawn, you see. The people who run the war are the people who have time to think. They don't have bullets whizzing by their heads. They don't have to instinctively duck and cover every five seconds just to stay alive.
Once a pawn, always a pawn, I say. And I'd rather be a pawn than some citizen, sitting in his hut or home, worrying over if his town is going to be taken over by the "bad" guy or the "good" guy, depending upon whichever side he believes is good or bad. That's just not a life for me right now.
My spirit has renewed, now that I have a cause to truly fight for. I know it may seem that I ask for trouble...but this is all I have. The fellowship that forms between men with weapons fighting together for a cause cannot match the friendship between two people. You have to trust your fellow soldier, with your life, at every moment. You don't have time to get to know him. You just -know- him through his actions. A battlefield friendship isn't as fickle as a social friendship. It may only last as long as whoever dies first, but you never fight, you never doubt. You have an undying confidence in your comrades, as they do you.
War may be hell, but it's unavoidable. Why fight something you cannot avoid?
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Chapter 10: The Battle for Kilika
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Weston sighed, sword in hand. He looked about at all the people in the pub, drinking and chattering. A cup of some sort of green ale was in front of him. The owner claimed it would help him stay awake and keep him on it toes. All it did for Weston was make him lightheaded. The stuff tasted similar to raw kerosene, which one of his foster parents had used for a cure-all. He'd only taken one sip and left the rest on the table, pushed rather far away from his current seat.
As Weston looked around, watching for anything suspicious, Gatta trudged through the doorway, a rather bored look on his face. He sat down across from Weston and picked the ale up, drinking it in one gulp.
Weston winced after seeing Gatta down the horrible liquid so quickly. "How can you stand that stuff?"
Gatta laughed. "Kilika ale is famous. Not for its taste, but for its effect. Feeds your thirst and burns a hole in your throat. But damn, will it keep you awake a few more hours. It's a favorite among seasoned Crusaders."
"Bah. Shit tastes like raw fuel. I don't care what it may do, I'll stick to my rationed coffee."
This time, it was Gatta's turn to cringe. "Coffee? Ugh, that ancient drink is the nastiest stuff. They only serve it in Luca because that's the only place it'll sell. Blitzballers love the stuff. Makes them so hyper..."
Weston smirked, leaning forward as he placed his sword against one of the table legs. "Coffee tastes a hell of a lot better than that ale crap. Works faster too."
Gatta grinned, picking up the empty ale container, shoving it in Weston's face. "Well, if you want to be a Crusader, you have to drink Kilika ale."
"I'm already affiliated."
"I don't see your precious Delta force anywhere near us, Weston. Besides, those guys are used to using Machina. They're wimps. Join the manly men, the Crusaders."
Weston laughed, leaning back into the wooden chair. "You only want me to join so you can order my ass around."
Gatta shrugged with a knowing grin. Weston shook his head and stood, taking his sword and sheathing it. "Thanks for relieving me. I'm taking a walk."
Gatta nodded in reply, waving Weston off with the flick of a hand.
Weston mocked a salute and curtly turned on a heel, laughing as he made his way through the doorway.
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A dark figure stood on a lone hill, rain soaking the thick, long hooded cloak that covered most of the figure's features. The rain was coming in heavy sheets, making a soft mist rise from the hot ground. The sun was long gone behind the dark clouds, and what felt like midday looked like twilight. The figure tilted its hooded head and then all faded to black, leaving only a single white ball where the figure's head had been.
Yuna shot up in bed, sweat in a thick sheen across her forehead. It was the third night she had had this dream. It was the same every night, save the white ball, a new addition.
The dreams had started after the first rehearsal for Wakka and Lulu's wedding. She'd been so exhausted after helping the village prepare the square, turning it into a nice area for the ceremony, she just plopped onto her bed in the temple and fell into a deep sleep. That's when the first dream occurred.
While they didn't worry her per say, they were becoming quite interesting to her. They helped her mind focus on something besides the looming doom of war. She'd spent most of the day before the second dream trying to remember certain details of the dream, desperately trying to solve its mystery. Alas, she didn't have much to go on, so she wouldn't be able to solve this for quite some time.
She sighed and moved to the side of the bed, quickly dressing in her normal kimono. When stepping out, she could tell it was later in the morning by the position of the sun. Wakka, Lulu, the local priest (despite his secession from the Yevon practice, he still married couples in the name of a great creator), and a few villagers were busy with the alter, figuring out positions and going over movements. She smiled and walked over.
Wakka looked up from some papers and smiled. "Last rehearsal, ya?"
Yuna smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow's the day."
Wakka looked to Lulu, his eyes adoringly watching her as she positioned some chairs. "That it is..."
Yuna sighed somewhat as she watched Wakka look to Lulu, seeing the pure love in his eyes. It made her think of Tidus' eyes that night, in the Macalania Woods. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
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Weston walked along the pier, boots clunking against the thick wood. His eyes were squinting and his face was winced because of it. The sun was bright and the day was really just beginning, even though it was only an hour until noon. The day was also warm, but it wasn't as intolerable because of the cool breeze coming from the ocean. Weston stopped and breathed in the salty air, listening to the sounds of the bustling island. He had to admit, not even an encroaching army could sway Kilika's determination to go about its business.
He had worries, of course. That anxiousness had been humbled a bit by the incident that sparked the war, and taking life had instilled in him that same spirit he had learn to feel before. Weston wasn't exactly thrilled about having to face two thousand of the Yevonites at once, especially since he'd be wielding a sword instead of a gun. Gatta assured Weston that the Holy Team incident was a fluke, and they probably had Machina that they'd stolen from other sources. Still, Weston feared, as did Gatta, even if he didn't admit it, that this was going to be another ambush. But the Crusaders didn't have any Machina, and Yuna had yet to even funnel money into the fledgling army. And the extra troops, that -were- promised, had yet to arrive.
Weston sighed as he neared the exit of town, towards the Kilika Jungle. The blood on the gravel hadn't been cleaned, and there were still a couple of the rifles on the ground in the grass ahead. Weston hmmed and went over to one, picking it up.
The gun was covered in wood, from stock to barrel. There was no advanced aiming device, so Weston guessed the men had been trained to just point and shoot based off of a small rectangular reticule on the end of the metal barrel. The loading mechanism was a little foreign, as was to be expected. The end of the stock detached from the rest of the gun and slid out like a tray. A rectangular insert held a rectangular magazine, where ten shots could be crammed into the small opening at the far side of the magazine. Weston pulled a cartridge from the magazine, seeing that the bullets were flat on the top, rounded on the bottom. It resembled a three- fifty seven wad-cutter's lead. Packed onto the back of the round was a small metallic cylinder with a dried powdery substance. Weston guessed this was the primer and power to ignite and set the bullet into motion. The barrel wasn't grooved, so accuracy was limited, but he knew that Nyka's men could use them just the same.
The rifle itself looked rather easy to build and maintain, making Weston's worries grow even more. More than likely, they'd be facing a superior enemy. Weston didn't like to be outgunned. He wasn't used to being the underdog, being a Special Forces soldier.
With a sigh, he set the gun down, not wanting to use the weapon, even if it did give him an advantage. He also didn't want to upset Gatta and look weak in front of the other soldiers. He growled at himself, letting petty Alpha- Male instincts rule him at a time when survival meant 'who killed who first'.
Slowly, he trudged, nodding to Ughol and a couple of other soldiers as he made his way up the gravel path leading to the jungle. Weston stopped a moment, in the middle of the path, looking into the distant tree line. He could just imagine the white robed pricks immerging, firing their primitive rifles at the town, trying to take it over by sheer overpowering an outgunned opponent. Weston sighed, his eyes closing, trying not to think of the consequences. But, being of analytical mind, the thoughts burst his mental block easily.
If Kilika were taken, then this war would be over as soon as Nyka could get up enough troops to overpower the Crusaders protecting Yuna. Knowing how easily Nyka had manipulated the people that blindly followed him didn't help ease Weston's thoughts either. If the Crusaders -did- defend Kilika, it would come at a heavy price, Weston was sure of it.
His eyes slowly opened and he continued up the path slowly, his boots crunching into the gravel. His head turned and he saw the vast green fields behind the town. He could see children playing, their parents not too far away, watching them. Something in Weston cried out in pain, and he had to turn away. His face burned red with anger, not at the sight, but at himself.
Years ago, before choosing to become a soldier, he had made a promise to his last foster parent. He had promised to go into the real world and be strong and intelligent. He was going to get a job, start a family, and be a good father, as if that'd somehow make up for the childhood he had led. But, he'd taken the easy way out of life. For a little bit of physical labor, and mental conditioning, he was housed, clothed, and had a family to take care of him. He was paid, and didn't have to worry about job security, because someone always needed protection or someone to do their dirty work for them.
Weston shrugged off the feelings and kept on his journey, trying to clear his mind, feeling a slight ache in his bones, his normal signal that danger was near. But, he ignored it, chalking it up to his previous thoughts.
He stopped walking a couple of hundred feet away from the beginning of the jungle, where the vast green fields turn to dense, vine-littered forest. Why they called it a jungle he'd never figure out. With a sigh, he turned and headed back for the village, not bothering to notice the children at play again, fearing it might cloud his mind.
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Ughol sighed, tired of having to guard the back of the town. He turned to his subordinate and growled.
"Why can't we just meet them halfway here?"
The young soldier just shrugged.
Ughol sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm going for a drink. Wanna join me?"
The impressionable young soldier immediately beamed, proudly replying, "Yes, sir!"
Ughol laughed and turned. "Alright, let's go. It's not like a few minutes away from our post will hurt."
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Ughol and his sergeant plopped down at the table Weston and Gatta were using.
Gatta looked a bit surprised as Ughol waved two fingers at the barmaid. "Taking a break?"
"Just for a few minutes."
Weston cocked an eyebrow. "And who's watching the rear?"
Ughol shrugged. "A few minutes won't hurt."
Weston was about to say something about duty, but stopped himself, remembering that this wasn't his Army, and things were probably done differently.
Gatta shrugged and sipped at his bottle of ale, Weston hunched back in his chair, obviously bored.
A few moments of silence later, Ughol and his subordinate were downing Kilika ale. Ughol had no problem with it, but the sergeant winced a bit, trying to old back his tears. Weston smirked, knowing just how the fellow felt. After the drinks were gone, Ughol leaned his wide frame back, making the relatively small wooden chair creak in agony. He patted his stomach, and after relieving a belch, spoke.
"Buncha kids playing in the back fields. Cute little buggers. Wish I had me some."
Gatta laughed. "Ughol...the thought of you with kids is frightening."
The behemoth apparently didn't like the tease and rolled his eyes, looking to the left and calling for another ale.
Gatta half-smiled, not meaning to offend his lieutenant. He looked to Weston. "Have a nice walk?"
Weston shrugged. "Yeah. Better than sitting here."
"Why don't you take another one?"
"Tired of walks."
Ughol pointed a meaty finger to Weston.
"Yeah, I saw you smelling the air and all that. You some kinda outdoorsy guy?"
"Not really."
The large man hmmed, and thankfully received a new bottle of ale. The subordinate looked nervous around the men, obviously not used to being in the presence of so many older men. Weston shot a glance to the sergeant. Kid would fit this guy a bit better, Weston thought. He looks like he's just a teenager. Probably my age now that I was when I entered the military.
When the young man returned the glance, Weston averted his eyes to a painting on the wall. It was a beautiful scene of snow-capped mountains.
Gatta seemed to notice Weston's eyes admiring the painting. "That's Mount Gagazet and its neighboring peaks. That's where the Ronso tribe lives. Well, what's left of it, that is. One of the Guardians that defeated Sin once and for all, Kihmari, is currently helping to rebuild the tribe. From what I heard, some children were born a year ago, and Kihmari is playing a big part in raising them. Wonder if he knows what's going on..."
Ughol smirked and set the empty bottle onto the table. "Hell, that Ronso couldn't hear anything but the howling wind up there. How's he supposed to know what's going on down here?"
Gatta shrugged and another silence came between the men.
After a few minutes, Weston broke the silence. "Think Yuna could supply us anytime soon? I mean...a thousand troops...is a little low for even a smaller town like this."
Gatta hmmed. "I don't think she has much choice, really. It's tuff to assemble men. The trouble we went through just getting that ten formed a few weeks ago..."
Weston, as well as Gatta, left that subject rather quickly, not wanting to remember that episode. When death is so concentrated in a small amount of time, the aftereffects are worse than those of a long, drawn out battle.
Another silence befell, and this stayed for quite some time.
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"Back field in sight, sir."
"Good. Remember men, this jungle is our protection. We have to lure them out into that open field. With them out in the open, taking them down should be easy and Kilika will be ours."
"But how, sir?"
"Aim your rifle, soldier. The closest one to the right, with the blitzball."
"Yes, sir."
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The crack broke the silence. Ughol jumped, Weston's ear pricked, and Gatta only sat there, as he had before. The subordinate instinctively dove under the table.
Gatta laughed. "Another one of the jungle trees coming down by the hands of Kilika's loggers."
Weston looked about, seeing absolutely no one alarmed. Even though his senses were telling him something was amiss, the utter unresponsiveness shown by everyone save the sergeant killed his instinct to grab his weapon.
It was the second crack that made the men, as well as the other pub goers a little more nervous.
Weston raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "How many loggers are there?"
"Ten to twenty. Maybe they're doing squad work."
And the men left it at that, but only for a mere moment, for pop after pop started to sound. It was then, that Gatta jumped to his feet, hand finding the handle of his sword. Weston, Ughol, and the sergeant all stood soon after, exchanging knowing looks.
Gatta nodded. "Hopefully, this is just a brigade of pop-gun kiddies. Ughol, Barnes. Go and round up some squads, just in case. Weston, you coming with me?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go."
And with that, the men went their respective ways.
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Weston and Gatta ran towards the forest path, full speed. Weston squinted his eyes and saw a figure running towards them. He drew his sword and pointed the figure out to Gatta. The two men slowed, swords ready to do damage. As the figure got closer, distance stopped playing its tricks and a crying young girl ran right into Weston's right leg, wrapping her arms around it in a tight grip.
Gatta kneeled down, asking her what's wrong.
"Mommy...daddy...they won't wake up!"
Weston shot Gatta a glance that said both "Get this kid off my leg" and "Prepare for the worst."
Gatta nodded, pulled the girl from Weston's leg, and shoved a finger towards the tree line, telling Weston to go ahead as he took care of the young girl. Weston did as he was told.
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As Ughol and Barnes made their way to each inn, collecting the soldiers, who were already ready for battle after hearing the cracks in the distance. Ughol didn't count the soldiers behind him, but he made in a straight run to each and every post, gathering more. In less than five minutes, a mass of soldiers found its way to the path leading to the jungle. Ughol stopped them as he saw Gatta, kneeled, trying to calm a crying young girl. Ughol tapped his leader on the shoulder.
"Boss, we don't have the time for this. I'll have a man take the kid to the pub."
Gatta nodded and Ughol grabbed the man closest to him, using hand signals to show the soldier exactly what he wanted done. The soldier quickly abided.
After finding his feet, Gatta ordered the men to follow him, and he inched his way into the field. Surprised, he stopped, making the rest of the men stop as well. In front of him was the frozen form of Weston, sword, shaking due to his clenched tight hand, at his side, face red as fire.
But Gatta didn't have to ask Weston what was going on. He could see it for himself. The children and parents alike were littering the ground with their blood, bodies broken by Machina shots. Gatta himself felt the anger flush, and wanted to run full steam ahead for the tree line. But, seeing Weston frozen there, looking at the massacre that had just occurred, made him keep himself in check. If Weston could control himself, so could he.
Weston seemed to know of Gatta's presence, as well as the men's. Through clenched teeth and a shaky voice, he managed. "Don't move any further. It's an ambush. We run there," and he pointed with his left hand to the tree line for emphasis, "we die."
Gatta nodded, coming beside Weston but keeping his eyes from the disgusting scene of tragic death. He whispered between shaky breaths, "Think we can flank them?"
"Too late for that. They know we're here."
"We wait it out then?"
"We fucking wait it out."
Gatta growled, eyes catching the horrific scene once more, turning to his men, and telling them to stand down. He felt the tinge of control leaving him, mainly since Weston had clearly made the orders this time around. Gatta squatted and sat, legs overlapping each other, back pressed against the wall of a hut near the beginning of the path.
Inside Weston, something wanted to go and rip every single white- robed Yevonite to shreds. They had done the unthinkable. They had killed the innocent in cold blood, and Weston's cause was fortified with one single act of horror. Shakily, he squatted himself, eyes watching the tree line as a hawk would watch its prey. He needed the soldier, not the man. His mind slowly numbed, all thoughts leaving his head save the one goal in mind: kill the Yevonites, every last one of them.
Ughol, who had only taken a quick glance at the carnage, was relenting his lunch and his ale into the ocean, not caring what the men thought of it.
After his bowels had been emptied, he wiped at his mouth and shouted in a faltering breath. "I need two men to take the airship back to Besaid. Tell our Lady what's happened, and get more troops. Fail my orders, and I kill you."
Two men quickly stepped forward, saluted, and ran off towards the docks, where the airship was waiting, its Crusader pilot already aware of the event that had just unfurled.
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Yuna smiled warmly, watching as the priest gave the ending speech of love and its importance in society. He then said the classic line, causing Wakka and Lulu's lips to lock. But, since this was only the last rehearsal, the kiss lasted a lot longer than it would at the ceremony.
Yuna was happy to see her two guardians finally vowing to love each other for the rest of their lives. Still, every lover's gaze and kiss and embrace made her think of Tidus, even though she had vowed not to let it bother her. Time moves on, no matter how much damage one takes, she kept telling herself.
As Wakka and Lulu made their way down the aisle, rehearsing the last bit of the ceremony, Wakka smirked and quickly picked Lulu up, starting to run towards the hut they were now sharing. They were stopped, rather suddenly, by two Crusaders with very solemn looks adorning their faces. They dodged the couple and quickly ran towards Yuna's now concerned form.
Yuna's eyes lost their sparkle as they met with one of the soldier's own, his dark brown eyes showing a despair that could only come with the unthinkable. She heaved a sigh and gave them a weak smile, already knowing they were going to give her terrible news.
"Yes?"
"Lady Yuna..." one of the men heaved, out of breath.
"Yes?" Yuna repeated.
"Kilika...children...men...women...massacred..."
Yuna's mouth opened in shock, tears already forming at the corners of her eyes as her small hands came to cover her gaping maw.
"We need...troops...supplies...battle ensuing..."
Yuna only nodded, nearly squeaking her words, her mind racing in the horror gripping her. "Get anything...anything..."
They nodded and ran off towards the docks, probably to ready the airship for more troops.
Yuna collapsed right on the stage. Wakka and Lulu both ran up to her, kneeling down beside her. The young girl was crying, rather hysterically, her worst fears imagined. Wakka picked the sobbing mass Yuna had become and started carrying her towards the temple. Lulu walked along side, wondering what had caused the pillar Yuna seemed to be to become so distraught.
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Weston, while still in his crouched position, shuffled over to Gatta.
Gatta looked up, a defeated look in his eyes. "How's it looking?" he asked half-heartedly.
"Like a massacre. The perpetrators are two hundred strong and using the jungle as cover, while we're just sitting here."
Gatta smirked, his eyes devoid of emotion, the brown pools not seeming to focus on anything particular. "I see someone doesn't like being the loser."
Weston growled, his anger flaring for a moment. Quickly, he calmed himself and sat next to Gatta with a heavy sigh. He looked ahead, at the troops. Most of them were just milling about, while some were still trying to get over the shock of the scene before them.
Ughol leaned against the wall next to Weston, a heavy thud sounding from the wooden barrier.
"I feel helpless, just sitting here."
Gatta didn't bother looking to him, but monotonically answered, "We all do."
Ughol growled under his breath and sent a bulky fist into the wall, causing it to shake.
Weston hmmed. "Those extra troops won't help us much, you know."
Gatta nodded. "Yeah, I know. When you're outmatched with weaponry, you don't have much of a chance period."
Weston nodded. "Crusaders have -any- Machina weaponry?"
Gatta shook his head. "No. Well, nothing hand held, that is."
Weston's brow quirked. "Nothing hand held?"
"We just have the airship. It's got rockets..."
Weston stood rather quickly, eyes going wide. "And why didn't I know this before?"
"They're for air-to-air defense, Weston."
Weston smirked. "Not today, they're not."
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It was another thirty minutes before the airship arrived. Only about two hundred or so men came with the airship. Those men were greeted by Gatta and Weston, who then informed them of the situation and ordered them to posts near the path. Weston ducked into the airship and made his way to the cockpit, Gatta trailing behind.
The pilot of the ship looked up from the console and smiled. Weston didn't return the gesture. "Rockets. Ready them. We're going to hit their holed up position."
The pilot didn't respond and looked to Gatta. "Sir?"
Gatta only nodded.
Weston continued. "But, before, we're going to pull off a 'feigned retreat', a maneuver that involves this ship landing in the middle of the field, having around thirty or so men board, and then leaving. If they think we're leaving, it might just lure them out before we hit them head on with the rockets. If they don't buy the bait, the rockets will decimate them. If they do buy the bait, -we'll- decimate them. The best-case scenario would be to not use the rockets, of course. Gatta and I are going to be on the ground if and when you have to use the rockets. Use your discretion."
The pilot nodded, looking to Gatta as if he needed confirmation. Gatta nodded in reply. The pilot sighed and set the airship into motion, quickly maneuvering it to the field. The moment it came into view, the Yevonites opened fire. Bullets clanged and whizzed as the bay doors open, the airship landing onto the grassy earth. Weston ran to the bay doors and signaled to the men that were visible at the mouth of the path to make a run for it.
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Ughol blinked as he heard the Yevonites open fire. He turned around after ducking and saw the airship, as well as Weston's signaling form, hit the ground. He squinted, seeing Weston's hand point, and then flash five fingers six times. After that, Weston motioned to the back of the room with a thumb. Ughol nodded, threw up a hand, and patted thirty men on their backs, sending them off to the airship. Ughol watched as the men ran into the hostile field, watching a few of them get hit and go down, screaming in pain. As the airship retreated, he wondered just what the hell was going on.
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Once Weston had counted twenty-two heads pass him, he jumped out and ran, half-crouched, towards the path. Gatta followed, both of the men now at breakneck speed. Bullets were flying everywhere, and Weston felt one tear some cloth and flesh from his leg. It was only a scratch and it didn't affect his run one bit. Another bullet whizzed by his ear, causing his left eye to close, as if that would stop it from entering his head.
When Weston and Gatta finally made it to the safety of the path's mouth, they weren't tired, but their chests weren't exactly moving at normal speed. Weston let out a sound that resembled a sarcastic laugh, but it was more or less a cry of pain, as the blood pumped into the open gash. Ughol knelt down and handed Weston a potion.
"No." Weston said through clenched teeth as his arm stopped Ughol's. Instead, Weston tore a piece of his sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it around his shin, covering his wound.
"Maybe after this is over," he said with a smirk to Ughol. "But right now, this pain is a good thing. Keeps me angry."
The behemoth, for the first time in hours, laughed a hearty laugh. Gatta turned his lips up into a sneer as the men turned their heads towards the tree line, wondering if the bluff had worked or not.
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"Sir...it looks as if they've evacuated."
"It could be a bluff."
"They've got little to no troops at the mouth, sir. I can see them now. Only the leaders and a few men."
"Well, get me a confirmation and we'll attack them head on. Besides, all they have is swords."
"Yes, sir."
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Weston sighed, watching the still tree line. "Hope that pilot decides quickly..."
Gatta nodded. "It's not like he's going to desert us." And at that moment, they heard, and saw, the trees and bushes moving, white robes coming into view."
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"Alright, that's it, no more waiting!" the pilot yelled to his navigator. The pilot pulled the airship from behind a set of palm trees and emerged. He saw the large group of white robes running to the town. "Aim at the head and center of those Yevonites!"
The navigator did as he was ordered.
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Weston, Gatta, and Ughol just stared at the oncoming troops, not bothering to ready themselves for battle. This threw the Yevonites off long enough for them to miss the airship right over the Crusader's defensive position. They never saw the rockets, only the knowing smirks of the Crusaders before them.
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The ground shook violently as the rockets hit the ground, spraying grass, dirt, and rocks into the air. Weston, Ughol, Gatta, and the rest of the men hit the ground, bodies being covered in dirt, grass, and remnants of human beings. The line of rockets spread all the way into the jungle, trees, foliage, and Nyka's army being blown to shreds.
Weston sat up into his defensive crouching position, black and brown soil covering his face and clothes. His eyes looked extremely white against the grime on his face. He wiped some dirt from his mouth and tried to focus on the scene, but too much dust and smoke filled the air, creating a thick, artificial fog. The only sounds he could register were disembodied screams and the coughs of the men behind him. A sickening smell clung to the dust, a stench comprised of burnt flesh, hair, and earth.
As Weston coughed a few times, the thick fog slowly began to dissipate. He blinked some dust from his eyes, causing tears to roll down his filthy cheeks. After a few wipes at his eyes, he could see a few craters on the ground. He didn't really notice the pieces of the Yevonites lying around, or even the shattered souls alive enough to notice that a good chunk of their bodies were missing.
Weston's focused turned to the now shaken and battered tree line ahead, where he thought he saw a few more white robes running. He didn't even hear the shots as the remainder of Nyka's force ran through the smoke and ducked into the newly created cover in the form of impact craters.
Gatta sat up, using Ughol's still lying body as support. He inched forward, still crouching as he did so, better safe than sorry. A few moments later, and he found himself next to Weston.
Weston silently breathed, "I think they're in the craters..."
Gatta nodded. "Then we can flank them. I'll call the order."
With a nod, Weston slowly drew his sword, shuffling back towards the men.
Gatta was whispering the orders. "Two groups of twenty will approach from the far left. Those groups will be led by Ughol. Stay as close to the coast as possible. Move silently. Same goes for the other group. With this smoke, we can have some concealment. Two groups of twenty will approach by the right side. Stick close to the house and then make it to the craters in a wide berth. Remember to crouch as you go. I'll be leading the right group. Now, Weston. You'll be leading the rest of the men in a drive towards the center. When you hear shots, or swords, or both, make in a dead run for the center of the craters. They'll be too busy with the flaking squads to notice."
The men nodded, fearing a loud acknowledgment would spark the Yevonites to start firing. Ughol counted out forty soldiers and moved towards the left, the men drawing their swords. Gatta counted out forty men as well and took them off to the right. Gatta gave a signal, and the two groups headed off in their respective directions.
Weston's adrenaline level was raised, and waiting wasn't his forte, but his body was frozen in position, his ears listening for the chaos that was about to ensue.
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Ughol could see the white robed men sitting in the craters, rifles pointed straight ahead. He smirked and tossed a dagger into the back of the nearest man.
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One of Gatta's men grinned as he stuck his sword into the closest Yevonite's throat. The man gargled a scream and the rest of the men were taken by surprise. Gatta lunged at a sandy haired Yevonite, totally taken the young man by surprise. A moment later, with a freshly blood soaked sword, Gatta was ripping a rifle from one of Nyka's men's hands, plowing the butt of the gun into his temple. Gatta laughed, realizing that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance of winning.
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Weston, upon hearing shots and the clanks of swords, rolled his arm forward, and charged the craters, the men following him at full speed. Weston growled loudly and drove his sword deep into the chest of a Yevonite, hearing the young man cry out in both shock and pain. He withdrew his sword, and in a wide stroke, sliced across the face of another white- robed soldier.
Weston could feel both Crusader and Yevonite alike dropping like flies around him. But he couldn't focus on what was going around him, for he was only one small part of something larger. His sword slashed into another Yevonite, and another. His body was contorting oddly, almost inhumanly as he dodged daggers and rifle shots. The only goal he had was to dispatch the enemy, and he was doing so quite well.
Gatta looked over, noticing now that Weston and his men had joined the fight. He fought his way over to where Weston was currently shoving his sword through a Yevonite's chest.
"Need some help?" Gatta yelled over the sounds of wood and metal against flesh.
Weston laughed and slashed away, noticing Ughol to the side of him, lobbing off an unfortunate Yevonite's head.
The Crusaders were so enthralled in the battle, they failed to notice that most of the remaining Yevonites were beginning to fall back into the jungle. When Weston's sword failed to connect with anymore flesh, he raised an eyebrow and started running about, trying to find more opponents. One of the Crusader's yelled out as loud as he could, "They're retreating!"
Weston turned his attention to the tree line and, sure enough, the remainder of Nyka's men, about forty men in total, was making for the trees at breakneck speed, their rifles on the ground. Gatta growled and squatted next to a wounded Crusader, tending to the man's wounds.
Ughol called out, "We going after them?"
Gatta looked to Weston, and then to Ughol. "No. We've got wounded to take care of."
Weston started for the line, but stopped and sheathed his filthy sword, leaning down to grab a dropped potion. He shuffled over to a wounded Crusader and administered the potion before standing back up and surveying the scene. The grown was torn beyond proper comprehension, dead bodies littering the ground, looking as if someone had taken a sheet of paper and torn it to bits, letting the pieces fall to the ground. But these pieces had once been live men. Still, the shock of what he'd taken part in didn't hit him, mainly due to his high adrenaline level. But even when he came off of the battle high, he'd not feel regret. He'd only have a sore body and an aching head. He hoped Gatta, Ughol, and the rest of the remaining Crusaders could learn to push away the emotional attachment that war tore into. Remorse wasn't something a soldier could have when his enemy was the same species as he. A soldier had to form a hate, and treat his enemy as lowly as he would an insect. Otherwise, a soldier couldn't fight.
Weston picked up a Crusader's body and carried it towards the path, starting the long clean up process.
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If it hadn't been for her dream, Yuna probably would've never woken up. The dream was of Tidus, floating down from the sky. His eyes wrapped around her, warming her troubled heart and offering comfort that nothing else could. Even though it was only a dream, the feel of his lips, of his face, and his hair, lingered with her even now, as she was walking back and forth on the wedding stage, waiting for word from Kilika.
Every brush of cool breeze against her cheek made her close her eyes, thinking of the dream. Instead of her usual depression that came with such dreams, she felt supported, as if she could do anything, even if Tidus wasn't by her side physically.
Day had turned into night, and the small village of Besaid was drowned in light from the lanterns that lined the paths and walkways. Yuna could see Lulu stirring some substance in a pot above a convenient fire placed right out of her hut's doorway. Yuna, from the smell, assumed it was some sort of stew. She walked over, kneeling next to the fire.
Lulu smiled, looking up from the pot. "Feeling better?"
Yuna smiled in return, nodding. "Yes."
"Good. Now, mind telling me what had you so distraught? I saw some troops leaving. Something happen in Kilika?"
"From what one of the soldiers told me, a battle had broken out, and women...children...were killed. Mention the word 'massacre'."
Lulu looked past Yuna, as if in shock, but blinked sense back into herself. She hid her sad thoughts by returning her eyes back to the stew, stirring it vigorously.
"That's...terrible...Any word yet?"
"None."
Yuna sighed and stood up once more.
"Stew's almost ready if you want some," Lulu offered.
Yuna shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry at the moment."
Lulu nodded and, after covering her pale hands, picked up the streaming pot and took it into the hut. Yuna headed back towards the temple.
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A soldier came up to Gatta, blood soaking his uniform. "Bodies are in the ship, ready to be taken to Besaid."
Gatta nodded and waved the soldier off, looking at the mass of bodies now piled into the ship's hold. He sighed a shaky sigh, and stepped into the ship, giving the pile a wide berth. In all, they had counted nearly three hundred dead Crusaders. They had estimated about eleven hundred dead Yevonites, but that was based on the rocket attack plus the four hundred or so whole bodies they had counted, but not bothered dealing with, hoping that the retreated Yevonites would come pick them up. Gatta had selected about fifty men to return with Weston, Ughol, and him to Besaid, to help deal with the dead and regroup. The rest of the remaining Crusaders were posted into town, the heaviest guard patrols being sent to guard the field, with orders to let the Yevonites take their dead if they did not present a threat.
Weston was sitting off to the side, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him. His eyes seem to focus on something off into the distance, even farther than the pile of bodies. His face was still filthy, and his hands, as well as the front of his clothing, were covered in blood, and it wasn't his own.
Gatta looked at him for a moment, and Weston didn't seem to notice, so he moved on, looking for Ughol. He found Ughol shortly after in the cockpit, where the pilot and navigator were going through the pre-flight checklist, readying the ship for the heavy load.
Ughol looked up, his face also very dirty, making the whites of his eyes shine as if they were beacons. "Hey boss."
Gatta nodded, no emotion showing on his face. "Hey."
Ughol didn't seem to know what to say, and Gatta surely didn't have anything to say, not even pertaining to what they'd just been through.
The two men stood in silence, each one of them not really looking at anything particular. They had shared a true battle of urgency and handled it well, at least in Gatta's opinion. But still, as Weston had said, nothing could compare to the horror that taking a fellow human's life harbored.
The airship began to move and Gatta gripped the back of a chair to support himself as the ship jerked from the dock and turned, heading back to Besaid. Gatta knew it wouldn't be a long ride, had this been any normal ride. But this ride held about three hundred shattered lives and fifty forever-changed lives. He knew this would be a tremendous burden for everyone to bear, especially Yuna, but it was unavoidable. The town of Kilika was already taking heavy hits, seeing as the Yevonites had taken a third of the town's children in that cowardly act...
Gatta then thought back to that lone little girl, she seeming to be the only survivor of the massacre. He sighed and blinked the thought away, not wanting to let it get to him. He was a soldier, and a leader. Leaders didn't have time to cry, nor did they think over what they've done, because what they've done is in the best interest of the people watching, and participating, in the war.
Gatta closed his eyes and emptied his head. His body was begging him to find a bed to sleep on, but this night wasn't over yet. Ughol, once the airship had become steady, walked out of the cockpit, apparently heading back towards the hold. After a few moments, Gatta followed and found a rail to lean against as he stared at the pile of lifeless bodies.
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Wakka blinked the slumber from his eyes, a finger quickly tapping his shoulder. He looked to his right, and the sleeping form of Lulu was currently nuzzling into his thick bicep, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. He then turned a sleepy eye to his left, and saw the source of the tapping. A Crusader mouthed to him to get up. Wakka raised a brow, but did as he was told, slowly sliding his arm out from under Lulu. He slipped on his sandals but didn't bother with a shirt. The soldier led him out of the hut and into the town center, where a shadowy, and not to mention grimy, group of soldiers were collected. Gatta was in the center. Weston and Ughol were standing off to the side, not saying a word. Yuna, who looked to be still half-asleep, was standing at the temple steps, watching as Gatta whispered to the men. It was then that Wakka noticed that most of the other village men had been stolen away from their slumbers. He stopped near the group and listened closely to Gatta's words.
"We're going to be moving bodies of fallen Crusaders into the ocean. There's roughly three hundred or so, so we're needing every able bodied man. We would've went to the west end of the island, where the rest of the Crusader's barracks are, but we've got little time. The sun will be up in three hours and we need all the time we can get. We're not bothering with proper burial baskets. Like I said, we've got little time. Every man will carry a body, slide it into the tide, and then go back for another until told otherwise. This will not be a pretty process either. I hope you gentlemen don't like the clothes you're wearing now. Anyway, after the bodies have been moved, Yuna will send them. And don't say a word. The Farplane exists. We've probably all seen it. Regardless of what religious affiliation we are, we're going to send these souls. The last thing we need is a large group of fiends rampaging the island. Now, let's get to work. The bodies are in the airship."
And with that, Wakka slowly followed the tiptoeing group of men to the docks. A line formed and the first body was handed out. When the man walked by with the corpse thrown over his shoulder, Wakka winced. Not only was the smell of death growing, but the actual condition of the bodies had been tampered with, probably because they'd been piled so snugly into one area. A knot grew in Wakka's stomach as he watched body after body, some of the men he knew, most he didn't, be carried by. This much death had not occurred since Sin was at large. Wakka never thought he would've seen so much death again, let alone be it by human hands. How a political conflict could grow into something so deadly, he did not know. He shook his head and moved forward, trying not to think, only do.
The body was heavy, and Wakka had to use his wide shoulders to support it. The soldier looked no older than eighteen, the three bullet holes in his chest marking the end of his dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Wakka couldn't help but to let a tear roll down his cheek as he set the body into the tide, watching it float slowly off of shore, joining the many others. To Wakka, it was a march of the dead. A finger tapped his shoulder and he moved on, heading back to the docks. By sunlight, he would carry nearly thirty bodies to their resting place in the sea.
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Yuna slowly walked along the shore, looking at the huge mass of bodies in front of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks in waves, almost mimicking the ocean that would carry the bodies to wherever the driftwood ended up. She raised her staff and swung it, beginning the death dance, the dance she thought she would never perform again when the Eternal Calm came. She twirled and watched as the pyreflies left the bodies, swirling up much like the water surrounding her. Each little prism ball of light shot for the sky, where, Yuna hoped, they'd find their way into the Farplane, and eternal happiness.
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Weston watched the spectacle with little interest. Sure, he'd never seen something quite like this, but his mind was too tired, too jaded to care at the moment. He simply watched, letting the vision of Yuna's dance store into his memory, where he could marvel at it later.
He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't care. He simply stood there, arms crossed, one leg still wrapped in his sleeve, the blood now clotted. The cloth of his sleeve had stuck to the blood clot, and every time he moved, it caused him pain, but he didn't really let it bother him. He knew that when he could find a place to rest, he'd pull the cloth off with force and let another blood clot form, wiping away whatever fresh blood dripped down his leg. Afterwards, he'd slap some iodine from his first aid kit and wrap it in some gauze.
While he had grown to appreciate the potions, he couldn't find himself to use anything else but the remedies taught to him in basic training.
When Yuna had finally finished, the Crusaders around him left, apparently going back to Kilika to reinforce the guards there. Ughol went with them while Gatta decided to stay back, to give, with Weston's help, a full report to Yuna about the events that led up to, and occurred during, the battle.
But before Weston did any reporting, he made his way to the waterfalls along the back of the island. There, he washed his body, his clothes, and his mind of the gritty layer of dirt every battle seemed to leave behind.
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I truly think this chapter speaks for itself. But...
If there were anything I'd say about this, it'd be three simple words: War is hell. ~No One
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The 'War of Civil Unrest' is official, on both sides, that is. Yuna sent a cute little ultimatum to Nyka about a day after his own announcement of war. It was her last ditch effort to thwart this, but, as if it took much time to figure out, Nyka's not budging. Neither is Yuna.
I have to commend her strong refusal. It's certainly more drive than she showed in the past. I have a feeling she's starting to understand just what Nyka's up to.
The wait, I have to say, is the worst. Nyka's reply to Yuna's ultimatum was sending two thousand merry little troops on their way towards Kilika. Yuna, in return, hastily sent a thousand or so Crusaders into Kilika, with the promise of more, fortifying the city. I, of course, volunteered. My home is the battlefield. Besides, Besaid isn't much of an exciting place, despite the nice people.
Speaking of Besaid, that's where the Crusader's have migrated. That's roughly around fourty thousand guys populating the small island. Well, make that thirty nine thousand now.
Yuna's holed up in the temple, making it her headquarters. She supposed to take an -escorted- trip to Luca soon to see if she can grab some support. Luca's pretty big, so I don't expect -all- of the people there to support us, but I feel we'll be able to get some troops and money from them.
It's really sad. It's almost as if Yuna's having to start her own nation. An army, money (they call it Gil, I call it money. It buys crap and jingles, so it's money to me, no matter what they call it), and politics to deal with.
After that incident in Kilika, nothing's been the same in Spira, and it'll never be the same again. The people of Spira are used to fighting monsters, not themselves. This war isn't going to be pretty. It's going to fuck with just about every person sane enough to comprehend it.
Sitting here at my post allows me quite some time to think. And being a thinking soldier in a war is not the best position to be in. You have to be a "doing" soldier. Otherwise, you're dead. You can't think of what you're doing. You can't reflect on how many people were affected by the kill you just made. Children, wives, relatives, all affected by one simple life. And you. You as the soldier, not the man, take that life away from those people, because it's all a game. A game of kill or be killed.
A soldier is a pawn, you see. The people who run the war are the people who have time to think. They don't have bullets whizzing by their heads. They don't have to instinctively duck and cover every five seconds just to stay alive.
Once a pawn, always a pawn, I say. And I'd rather be a pawn than some citizen, sitting in his hut or home, worrying over if his town is going to be taken over by the "bad" guy or the "good" guy, depending upon whichever side he believes is good or bad. That's just not a life for me right now.
My spirit has renewed, now that I have a cause to truly fight for. I know it may seem that I ask for trouble...but this is all I have. The fellowship that forms between men with weapons fighting together for a cause cannot match the friendship between two people. You have to trust your fellow soldier, with your life, at every moment. You don't have time to get to know him. You just -know- him through his actions. A battlefield friendship isn't as fickle as a social friendship. It may only last as long as whoever dies first, but you never fight, you never doubt. You have an undying confidence in your comrades, as they do you.
War may be hell, but it's unavoidable. Why fight something you cannot avoid?
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Chapter 10: The Battle for Kilika
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Weston sighed, sword in hand. He looked about at all the people in the pub, drinking and chattering. A cup of some sort of green ale was in front of him. The owner claimed it would help him stay awake and keep him on it toes. All it did for Weston was make him lightheaded. The stuff tasted similar to raw kerosene, which one of his foster parents had used for a cure-all. He'd only taken one sip and left the rest on the table, pushed rather far away from his current seat.
As Weston looked around, watching for anything suspicious, Gatta trudged through the doorway, a rather bored look on his face. He sat down across from Weston and picked the ale up, drinking it in one gulp.
Weston winced after seeing Gatta down the horrible liquid so quickly. "How can you stand that stuff?"
Gatta laughed. "Kilika ale is famous. Not for its taste, but for its effect. Feeds your thirst and burns a hole in your throat. But damn, will it keep you awake a few more hours. It's a favorite among seasoned Crusaders."
"Bah. Shit tastes like raw fuel. I don't care what it may do, I'll stick to my rationed coffee."
This time, it was Gatta's turn to cringe. "Coffee? Ugh, that ancient drink is the nastiest stuff. They only serve it in Luca because that's the only place it'll sell. Blitzballers love the stuff. Makes them so hyper..."
Weston smirked, leaning forward as he placed his sword against one of the table legs. "Coffee tastes a hell of a lot better than that ale crap. Works faster too."
Gatta grinned, picking up the empty ale container, shoving it in Weston's face. "Well, if you want to be a Crusader, you have to drink Kilika ale."
"I'm already affiliated."
"I don't see your precious Delta force anywhere near us, Weston. Besides, those guys are used to using Machina. They're wimps. Join the manly men, the Crusaders."
Weston laughed, leaning back into the wooden chair. "You only want me to join so you can order my ass around."
Gatta shrugged with a knowing grin. Weston shook his head and stood, taking his sword and sheathing it. "Thanks for relieving me. I'm taking a walk."
Gatta nodded in reply, waving Weston off with the flick of a hand.
Weston mocked a salute and curtly turned on a heel, laughing as he made his way through the doorway.
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A dark figure stood on a lone hill, rain soaking the thick, long hooded cloak that covered most of the figure's features. The rain was coming in heavy sheets, making a soft mist rise from the hot ground. The sun was long gone behind the dark clouds, and what felt like midday looked like twilight. The figure tilted its hooded head and then all faded to black, leaving only a single white ball where the figure's head had been.
Yuna shot up in bed, sweat in a thick sheen across her forehead. It was the third night she had had this dream. It was the same every night, save the white ball, a new addition.
The dreams had started after the first rehearsal for Wakka and Lulu's wedding. She'd been so exhausted after helping the village prepare the square, turning it into a nice area for the ceremony, she just plopped onto her bed in the temple and fell into a deep sleep. That's when the first dream occurred.
While they didn't worry her per say, they were becoming quite interesting to her. They helped her mind focus on something besides the looming doom of war. She'd spent most of the day before the second dream trying to remember certain details of the dream, desperately trying to solve its mystery. Alas, she didn't have much to go on, so she wouldn't be able to solve this for quite some time.
She sighed and moved to the side of the bed, quickly dressing in her normal kimono. When stepping out, she could tell it was later in the morning by the position of the sun. Wakka, Lulu, the local priest (despite his secession from the Yevon practice, he still married couples in the name of a great creator), and a few villagers were busy with the alter, figuring out positions and going over movements. She smiled and walked over.
Wakka looked up from some papers and smiled. "Last rehearsal, ya?"
Yuna smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow's the day."
Wakka looked to Lulu, his eyes adoringly watching her as she positioned some chairs. "That it is..."
Yuna sighed somewhat as she watched Wakka look to Lulu, seeing the pure love in his eyes. It made her think of Tidus' eyes that night, in the Macalania Woods. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
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Weston walked along the pier, boots clunking against the thick wood. His eyes were squinting and his face was winced because of it. The sun was bright and the day was really just beginning, even though it was only an hour until noon. The day was also warm, but it wasn't as intolerable because of the cool breeze coming from the ocean. Weston stopped and breathed in the salty air, listening to the sounds of the bustling island. He had to admit, not even an encroaching army could sway Kilika's determination to go about its business.
He had worries, of course. That anxiousness had been humbled a bit by the incident that sparked the war, and taking life had instilled in him that same spirit he had learn to feel before. Weston wasn't exactly thrilled about having to face two thousand of the Yevonites at once, especially since he'd be wielding a sword instead of a gun. Gatta assured Weston that the Holy Team incident was a fluke, and they probably had Machina that they'd stolen from other sources. Still, Weston feared, as did Gatta, even if he didn't admit it, that this was going to be another ambush. But the Crusaders didn't have any Machina, and Yuna had yet to even funnel money into the fledgling army. And the extra troops, that -were- promised, had yet to arrive.
Weston sighed as he neared the exit of town, towards the Kilika Jungle. The blood on the gravel hadn't been cleaned, and there were still a couple of the rifles on the ground in the grass ahead. Weston hmmed and went over to one, picking it up.
The gun was covered in wood, from stock to barrel. There was no advanced aiming device, so Weston guessed the men had been trained to just point and shoot based off of a small rectangular reticule on the end of the metal barrel. The loading mechanism was a little foreign, as was to be expected. The end of the stock detached from the rest of the gun and slid out like a tray. A rectangular insert held a rectangular magazine, where ten shots could be crammed into the small opening at the far side of the magazine. Weston pulled a cartridge from the magazine, seeing that the bullets were flat on the top, rounded on the bottom. It resembled a three- fifty seven wad-cutter's lead. Packed onto the back of the round was a small metallic cylinder with a dried powdery substance. Weston guessed this was the primer and power to ignite and set the bullet into motion. The barrel wasn't grooved, so accuracy was limited, but he knew that Nyka's men could use them just the same.
The rifle itself looked rather easy to build and maintain, making Weston's worries grow even more. More than likely, they'd be facing a superior enemy. Weston didn't like to be outgunned. He wasn't used to being the underdog, being a Special Forces soldier.
With a sigh, he set the gun down, not wanting to use the weapon, even if it did give him an advantage. He also didn't want to upset Gatta and look weak in front of the other soldiers. He growled at himself, letting petty Alpha- Male instincts rule him at a time when survival meant 'who killed who first'.
Slowly, he trudged, nodding to Ughol and a couple of other soldiers as he made his way up the gravel path leading to the jungle. Weston stopped a moment, in the middle of the path, looking into the distant tree line. He could just imagine the white robed pricks immerging, firing their primitive rifles at the town, trying to take it over by sheer overpowering an outgunned opponent. Weston sighed, his eyes closing, trying not to think of the consequences. But, being of analytical mind, the thoughts burst his mental block easily.
If Kilika were taken, then this war would be over as soon as Nyka could get up enough troops to overpower the Crusaders protecting Yuna. Knowing how easily Nyka had manipulated the people that blindly followed him didn't help ease Weston's thoughts either. If the Crusaders -did- defend Kilika, it would come at a heavy price, Weston was sure of it.
His eyes slowly opened and he continued up the path slowly, his boots crunching into the gravel. His head turned and he saw the vast green fields behind the town. He could see children playing, their parents not too far away, watching them. Something in Weston cried out in pain, and he had to turn away. His face burned red with anger, not at the sight, but at himself.
Years ago, before choosing to become a soldier, he had made a promise to his last foster parent. He had promised to go into the real world and be strong and intelligent. He was going to get a job, start a family, and be a good father, as if that'd somehow make up for the childhood he had led. But, he'd taken the easy way out of life. For a little bit of physical labor, and mental conditioning, he was housed, clothed, and had a family to take care of him. He was paid, and didn't have to worry about job security, because someone always needed protection or someone to do their dirty work for them.
Weston shrugged off the feelings and kept on his journey, trying to clear his mind, feeling a slight ache in his bones, his normal signal that danger was near. But, he ignored it, chalking it up to his previous thoughts.
He stopped walking a couple of hundred feet away from the beginning of the jungle, where the vast green fields turn to dense, vine-littered forest. Why they called it a jungle he'd never figure out. With a sigh, he turned and headed back for the village, not bothering to notice the children at play again, fearing it might cloud his mind.
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Ughol sighed, tired of having to guard the back of the town. He turned to his subordinate and growled.
"Why can't we just meet them halfway here?"
The young soldier just shrugged.
Ughol sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm going for a drink. Wanna join me?"
The impressionable young soldier immediately beamed, proudly replying, "Yes, sir!"
Ughol laughed and turned. "Alright, let's go. It's not like a few minutes away from our post will hurt."
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Ughol and his sergeant plopped down at the table Weston and Gatta were using.
Gatta looked a bit surprised as Ughol waved two fingers at the barmaid. "Taking a break?"
"Just for a few minutes."
Weston cocked an eyebrow. "And who's watching the rear?"
Ughol shrugged. "A few minutes won't hurt."
Weston was about to say something about duty, but stopped himself, remembering that this wasn't his Army, and things were probably done differently.
Gatta shrugged and sipped at his bottle of ale, Weston hunched back in his chair, obviously bored.
A few moments of silence later, Ughol and his subordinate were downing Kilika ale. Ughol had no problem with it, but the sergeant winced a bit, trying to old back his tears. Weston smirked, knowing just how the fellow felt. After the drinks were gone, Ughol leaned his wide frame back, making the relatively small wooden chair creak in agony. He patted his stomach, and after relieving a belch, spoke.
"Buncha kids playing in the back fields. Cute little buggers. Wish I had me some."
Gatta laughed. "Ughol...the thought of you with kids is frightening."
The behemoth apparently didn't like the tease and rolled his eyes, looking to the left and calling for another ale.
Gatta half-smiled, not meaning to offend his lieutenant. He looked to Weston. "Have a nice walk?"
Weston shrugged. "Yeah. Better than sitting here."
"Why don't you take another one?"
"Tired of walks."
Ughol pointed a meaty finger to Weston.
"Yeah, I saw you smelling the air and all that. You some kinda outdoorsy guy?"
"Not really."
The large man hmmed, and thankfully received a new bottle of ale. The subordinate looked nervous around the men, obviously not used to being in the presence of so many older men. Weston shot a glance to the sergeant. Kid would fit this guy a bit better, Weston thought. He looks like he's just a teenager. Probably my age now that I was when I entered the military.
When the young man returned the glance, Weston averted his eyes to a painting on the wall. It was a beautiful scene of snow-capped mountains.
Gatta seemed to notice Weston's eyes admiring the painting. "That's Mount Gagazet and its neighboring peaks. That's where the Ronso tribe lives. Well, what's left of it, that is. One of the Guardians that defeated Sin once and for all, Kihmari, is currently helping to rebuild the tribe. From what I heard, some children were born a year ago, and Kihmari is playing a big part in raising them. Wonder if he knows what's going on..."
Ughol smirked and set the empty bottle onto the table. "Hell, that Ronso couldn't hear anything but the howling wind up there. How's he supposed to know what's going on down here?"
Gatta shrugged and another silence came between the men.
After a few minutes, Weston broke the silence. "Think Yuna could supply us anytime soon? I mean...a thousand troops...is a little low for even a smaller town like this."
Gatta hmmed. "I don't think she has much choice, really. It's tuff to assemble men. The trouble we went through just getting that ten formed a few weeks ago..."
Weston, as well as Gatta, left that subject rather quickly, not wanting to remember that episode. When death is so concentrated in a small amount of time, the aftereffects are worse than those of a long, drawn out battle.
Another silence befell, and this stayed for quite some time.
--------------------
"Back field in sight, sir."
"Good. Remember men, this jungle is our protection. We have to lure them out into that open field. With them out in the open, taking them down should be easy and Kilika will be ours."
"But how, sir?"
"Aim your rifle, soldier. The closest one to the right, with the blitzball."
"Yes, sir."
--------------------
The crack broke the silence. Ughol jumped, Weston's ear pricked, and Gatta only sat there, as he had before. The subordinate instinctively dove under the table.
Gatta laughed. "Another one of the jungle trees coming down by the hands of Kilika's loggers."
Weston looked about, seeing absolutely no one alarmed. Even though his senses were telling him something was amiss, the utter unresponsiveness shown by everyone save the sergeant killed his instinct to grab his weapon.
It was the second crack that made the men, as well as the other pub goers a little more nervous.
Weston raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "How many loggers are there?"
"Ten to twenty. Maybe they're doing squad work."
And the men left it at that, but only for a mere moment, for pop after pop started to sound. It was then, that Gatta jumped to his feet, hand finding the handle of his sword. Weston, Ughol, and the sergeant all stood soon after, exchanging knowing looks.
Gatta nodded. "Hopefully, this is just a brigade of pop-gun kiddies. Ughol, Barnes. Go and round up some squads, just in case. Weston, you coming with me?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go."
And with that, the men went their respective ways.
--------------------
Weston and Gatta ran towards the forest path, full speed. Weston squinted his eyes and saw a figure running towards them. He drew his sword and pointed the figure out to Gatta. The two men slowed, swords ready to do damage. As the figure got closer, distance stopped playing its tricks and a crying young girl ran right into Weston's right leg, wrapping her arms around it in a tight grip.
Gatta kneeled down, asking her what's wrong.
"Mommy...daddy...they won't wake up!"
Weston shot Gatta a glance that said both "Get this kid off my leg" and "Prepare for the worst."
Gatta nodded, pulled the girl from Weston's leg, and shoved a finger towards the tree line, telling Weston to go ahead as he took care of the young girl. Weston did as he was told.
--------------------
As Ughol and Barnes made their way to each inn, collecting the soldiers, who were already ready for battle after hearing the cracks in the distance. Ughol didn't count the soldiers behind him, but he made in a straight run to each and every post, gathering more. In less than five minutes, a mass of soldiers found its way to the path leading to the jungle. Ughol stopped them as he saw Gatta, kneeled, trying to calm a crying young girl. Ughol tapped his leader on the shoulder.
"Boss, we don't have the time for this. I'll have a man take the kid to the pub."
Gatta nodded and Ughol grabbed the man closest to him, using hand signals to show the soldier exactly what he wanted done. The soldier quickly abided.
After finding his feet, Gatta ordered the men to follow him, and he inched his way into the field. Surprised, he stopped, making the rest of the men stop as well. In front of him was the frozen form of Weston, sword, shaking due to his clenched tight hand, at his side, face red as fire.
But Gatta didn't have to ask Weston what was going on. He could see it for himself. The children and parents alike were littering the ground with their blood, bodies broken by Machina shots. Gatta himself felt the anger flush, and wanted to run full steam ahead for the tree line. But, seeing Weston frozen there, looking at the massacre that had just occurred, made him keep himself in check. If Weston could control himself, so could he.
Weston seemed to know of Gatta's presence, as well as the men's. Through clenched teeth and a shaky voice, he managed. "Don't move any further. It's an ambush. We run there," and he pointed with his left hand to the tree line for emphasis, "we die."
Gatta nodded, coming beside Weston but keeping his eyes from the disgusting scene of tragic death. He whispered between shaky breaths, "Think we can flank them?"
"Too late for that. They know we're here."
"We wait it out then?"
"We fucking wait it out."
Gatta growled, eyes catching the horrific scene once more, turning to his men, and telling them to stand down. He felt the tinge of control leaving him, mainly since Weston had clearly made the orders this time around. Gatta squatted and sat, legs overlapping each other, back pressed against the wall of a hut near the beginning of the path.
Inside Weston, something wanted to go and rip every single white- robed Yevonite to shreds. They had done the unthinkable. They had killed the innocent in cold blood, and Weston's cause was fortified with one single act of horror. Shakily, he squatted himself, eyes watching the tree line as a hawk would watch its prey. He needed the soldier, not the man. His mind slowly numbed, all thoughts leaving his head save the one goal in mind: kill the Yevonites, every last one of them.
Ughol, who had only taken a quick glance at the carnage, was relenting his lunch and his ale into the ocean, not caring what the men thought of it.
After his bowels had been emptied, he wiped at his mouth and shouted in a faltering breath. "I need two men to take the airship back to Besaid. Tell our Lady what's happened, and get more troops. Fail my orders, and I kill you."
Two men quickly stepped forward, saluted, and ran off towards the docks, where the airship was waiting, its Crusader pilot already aware of the event that had just unfurled.
--------------------
Yuna smiled warmly, watching as the priest gave the ending speech of love and its importance in society. He then said the classic line, causing Wakka and Lulu's lips to lock. But, since this was only the last rehearsal, the kiss lasted a lot longer than it would at the ceremony.
Yuna was happy to see her two guardians finally vowing to love each other for the rest of their lives. Still, every lover's gaze and kiss and embrace made her think of Tidus, even though she had vowed not to let it bother her. Time moves on, no matter how much damage one takes, she kept telling herself.
As Wakka and Lulu made their way down the aisle, rehearsing the last bit of the ceremony, Wakka smirked and quickly picked Lulu up, starting to run towards the hut they were now sharing. They were stopped, rather suddenly, by two Crusaders with very solemn looks adorning their faces. They dodged the couple and quickly ran towards Yuna's now concerned form.
Yuna's eyes lost their sparkle as they met with one of the soldier's own, his dark brown eyes showing a despair that could only come with the unthinkable. She heaved a sigh and gave them a weak smile, already knowing they were going to give her terrible news.
"Yes?"
"Lady Yuna..." one of the men heaved, out of breath.
"Yes?" Yuna repeated.
"Kilika...children...men...women...massacred..."
Yuna's mouth opened in shock, tears already forming at the corners of her eyes as her small hands came to cover her gaping maw.
"We need...troops...supplies...battle ensuing..."
Yuna only nodded, nearly squeaking her words, her mind racing in the horror gripping her. "Get anything...anything..."
They nodded and ran off towards the docks, probably to ready the airship for more troops.
Yuna collapsed right on the stage. Wakka and Lulu both ran up to her, kneeling down beside her. The young girl was crying, rather hysterically, her worst fears imagined. Wakka picked the sobbing mass Yuna had become and started carrying her towards the temple. Lulu walked along side, wondering what had caused the pillar Yuna seemed to be to become so distraught.
--------------------
Weston, while still in his crouched position, shuffled over to Gatta.
Gatta looked up, a defeated look in his eyes. "How's it looking?" he asked half-heartedly.
"Like a massacre. The perpetrators are two hundred strong and using the jungle as cover, while we're just sitting here."
Gatta smirked, his eyes devoid of emotion, the brown pools not seeming to focus on anything particular. "I see someone doesn't like being the loser."
Weston growled, his anger flaring for a moment. Quickly, he calmed himself and sat next to Gatta with a heavy sigh. He looked ahead, at the troops. Most of them were just milling about, while some were still trying to get over the shock of the scene before them.
Ughol leaned against the wall next to Weston, a heavy thud sounding from the wooden barrier.
"I feel helpless, just sitting here."
Gatta didn't bother looking to him, but monotonically answered, "We all do."
Ughol growled under his breath and sent a bulky fist into the wall, causing it to shake.
Weston hmmed. "Those extra troops won't help us much, you know."
Gatta nodded. "Yeah, I know. When you're outmatched with weaponry, you don't have much of a chance period."
Weston nodded. "Crusaders have -any- Machina weaponry?"
Gatta shook his head. "No. Well, nothing hand held, that is."
Weston's brow quirked. "Nothing hand held?"
"We just have the airship. It's got rockets..."
Weston stood rather quickly, eyes going wide. "And why didn't I know this before?"
"They're for air-to-air defense, Weston."
Weston smirked. "Not today, they're not."
--------------------
It was another thirty minutes before the airship arrived. Only about two hundred or so men came with the airship. Those men were greeted by Gatta and Weston, who then informed them of the situation and ordered them to posts near the path. Weston ducked into the airship and made his way to the cockpit, Gatta trailing behind.
The pilot of the ship looked up from the console and smiled. Weston didn't return the gesture. "Rockets. Ready them. We're going to hit their holed up position."
The pilot didn't respond and looked to Gatta. "Sir?"
Gatta only nodded.
Weston continued. "But, before, we're going to pull off a 'feigned retreat', a maneuver that involves this ship landing in the middle of the field, having around thirty or so men board, and then leaving. If they think we're leaving, it might just lure them out before we hit them head on with the rockets. If they don't buy the bait, the rockets will decimate them. If they do buy the bait, -we'll- decimate them. The best-case scenario would be to not use the rockets, of course. Gatta and I are going to be on the ground if and when you have to use the rockets. Use your discretion."
The pilot nodded, looking to Gatta as if he needed confirmation. Gatta nodded in reply. The pilot sighed and set the airship into motion, quickly maneuvering it to the field. The moment it came into view, the Yevonites opened fire. Bullets clanged and whizzed as the bay doors open, the airship landing onto the grassy earth. Weston ran to the bay doors and signaled to the men that were visible at the mouth of the path to make a run for it.
--------------------
Ughol blinked as he heard the Yevonites open fire. He turned around after ducking and saw the airship, as well as Weston's signaling form, hit the ground. He squinted, seeing Weston's hand point, and then flash five fingers six times. After that, Weston motioned to the back of the room with a thumb. Ughol nodded, threw up a hand, and patted thirty men on their backs, sending them off to the airship. Ughol watched as the men ran into the hostile field, watching a few of them get hit and go down, screaming in pain. As the airship retreated, he wondered just what the hell was going on.
--------------------
Once Weston had counted twenty-two heads pass him, he jumped out and ran, half-crouched, towards the path. Gatta followed, both of the men now at breakneck speed. Bullets were flying everywhere, and Weston felt one tear some cloth and flesh from his leg. It was only a scratch and it didn't affect his run one bit. Another bullet whizzed by his ear, causing his left eye to close, as if that would stop it from entering his head.
When Weston and Gatta finally made it to the safety of the path's mouth, they weren't tired, but their chests weren't exactly moving at normal speed. Weston let out a sound that resembled a sarcastic laugh, but it was more or less a cry of pain, as the blood pumped into the open gash. Ughol knelt down and handed Weston a potion.
"No." Weston said through clenched teeth as his arm stopped Ughol's. Instead, Weston tore a piece of his sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it around his shin, covering his wound.
"Maybe after this is over," he said with a smirk to Ughol. "But right now, this pain is a good thing. Keeps me angry."
The behemoth, for the first time in hours, laughed a hearty laugh. Gatta turned his lips up into a sneer as the men turned their heads towards the tree line, wondering if the bluff had worked or not.
--------------------
"Sir...it looks as if they've evacuated."
"It could be a bluff."
"They've got little to no troops at the mouth, sir. I can see them now. Only the leaders and a few men."
"Well, get me a confirmation and we'll attack them head on. Besides, all they have is swords."
"Yes, sir."
--------------------
Weston sighed, watching the still tree line. "Hope that pilot decides quickly..."
Gatta nodded. "It's not like he's going to desert us." And at that moment, they heard, and saw, the trees and bushes moving, white robes coming into view."
--------------------
"Alright, that's it, no more waiting!" the pilot yelled to his navigator. The pilot pulled the airship from behind a set of palm trees and emerged. He saw the large group of white robes running to the town. "Aim at the head and center of those Yevonites!"
The navigator did as he was ordered.
--------------------
Weston, Gatta, and Ughol just stared at the oncoming troops, not bothering to ready themselves for battle. This threw the Yevonites off long enough for them to miss the airship right over the Crusader's defensive position. They never saw the rockets, only the knowing smirks of the Crusaders before them.
--------------------
The ground shook violently as the rockets hit the ground, spraying grass, dirt, and rocks into the air. Weston, Ughol, Gatta, and the rest of the men hit the ground, bodies being covered in dirt, grass, and remnants of human beings. The line of rockets spread all the way into the jungle, trees, foliage, and Nyka's army being blown to shreds.
Weston sat up into his defensive crouching position, black and brown soil covering his face and clothes. His eyes looked extremely white against the grime on his face. He wiped some dirt from his mouth and tried to focus on the scene, but too much dust and smoke filled the air, creating a thick, artificial fog. The only sounds he could register were disembodied screams and the coughs of the men behind him. A sickening smell clung to the dust, a stench comprised of burnt flesh, hair, and earth.
As Weston coughed a few times, the thick fog slowly began to dissipate. He blinked some dust from his eyes, causing tears to roll down his filthy cheeks. After a few wipes at his eyes, he could see a few craters on the ground. He didn't really notice the pieces of the Yevonites lying around, or even the shattered souls alive enough to notice that a good chunk of their bodies were missing.
Weston's focused turned to the now shaken and battered tree line ahead, where he thought he saw a few more white robes running. He didn't even hear the shots as the remainder of Nyka's force ran through the smoke and ducked into the newly created cover in the form of impact craters.
Gatta sat up, using Ughol's still lying body as support. He inched forward, still crouching as he did so, better safe than sorry. A few moments later, and he found himself next to Weston.
Weston silently breathed, "I think they're in the craters..."
Gatta nodded. "Then we can flank them. I'll call the order."
With a nod, Weston slowly drew his sword, shuffling back towards the men.
Gatta was whispering the orders. "Two groups of twenty will approach from the far left. Those groups will be led by Ughol. Stay as close to the coast as possible. Move silently. Same goes for the other group. With this smoke, we can have some concealment. Two groups of twenty will approach by the right side. Stick close to the house and then make it to the craters in a wide berth. Remember to crouch as you go. I'll be leading the right group. Now, Weston. You'll be leading the rest of the men in a drive towards the center. When you hear shots, or swords, or both, make in a dead run for the center of the craters. They'll be too busy with the flaking squads to notice."
The men nodded, fearing a loud acknowledgment would spark the Yevonites to start firing. Ughol counted out forty soldiers and moved towards the left, the men drawing their swords. Gatta counted out forty men as well and took them off to the right. Gatta gave a signal, and the two groups headed off in their respective directions.
Weston's adrenaline level was raised, and waiting wasn't his forte, but his body was frozen in position, his ears listening for the chaos that was about to ensue.
--------------------
Ughol could see the white robed men sitting in the craters, rifles pointed straight ahead. He smirked and tossed a dagger into the back of the nearest man.
--------------------
One of Gatta's men grinned as he stuck his sword into the closest Yevonite's throat. The man gargled a scream and the rest of the men were taken by surprise. Gatta lunged at a sandy haired Yevonite, totally taken the young man by surprise. A moment later, with a freshly blood soaked sword, Gatta was ripping a rifle from one of Nyka's men's hands, plowing the butt of the gun into his temple. Gatta laughed, realizing that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance of winning.
--------------------
Weston, upon hearing shots and the clanks of swords, rolled his arm forward, and charged the craters, the men following him at full speed. Weston growled loudly and drove his sword deep into the chest of a Yevonite, hearing the young man cry out in both shock and pain. He withdrew his sword, and in a wide stroke, sliced across the face of another white- robed soldier.
Weston could feel both Crusader and Yevonite alike dropping like flies around him. But he couldn't focus on what was going around him, for he was only one small part of something larger. His sword slashed into another Yevonite, and another. His body was contorting oddly, almost inhumanly as he dodged daggers and rifle shots. The only goal he had was to dispatch the enemy, and he was doing so quite well.
Gatta looked over, noticing now that Weston and his men had joined the fight. He fought his way over to where Weston was currently shoving his sword through a Yevonite's chest.
"Need some help?" Gatta yelled over the sounds of wood and metal against flesh.
Weston laughed and slashed away, noticing Ughol to the side of him, lobbing off an unfortunate Yevonite's head.
The Crusaders were so enthralled in the battle, they failed to notice that most of the remaining Yevonites were beginning to fall back into the jungle. When Weston's sword failed to connect with anymore flesh, he raised an eyebrow and started running about, trying to find more opponents. One of the Crusader's yelled out as loud as he could, "They're retreating!"
Weston turned his attention to the tree line and, sure enough, the remainder of Nyka's men, about forty men in total, was making for the trees at breakneck speed, their rifles on the ground. Gatta growled and squatted next to a wounded Crusader, tending to the man's wounds.
Ughol called out, "We going after them?"
Gatta looked to Weston, and then to Ughol. "No. We've got wounded to take care of."
Weston started for the line, but stopped and sheathed his filthy sword, leaning down to grab a dropped potion. He shuffled over to a wounded Crusader and administered the potion before standing back up and surveying the scene. The grown was torn beyond proper comprehension, dead bodies littering the ground, looking as if someone had taken a sheet of paper and torn it to bits, letting the pieces fall to the ground. But these pieces had once been live men. Still, the shock of what he'd taken part in didn't hit him, mainly due to his high adrenaline level. But even when he came off of the battle high, he'd not feel regret. He'd only have a sore body and an aching head. He hoped Gatta, Ughol, and the rest of the remaining Crusaders could learn to push away the emotional attachment that war tore into. Remorse wasn't something a soldier could have when his enemy was the same species as he. A soldier had to form a hate, and treat his enemy as lowly as he would an insect. Otherwise, a soldier couldn't fight.
Weston picked up a Crusader's body and carried it towards the path, starting the long clean up process.
--------------------
If it hadn't been for her dream, Yuna probably would've never woken up. The dream was of Tidus, floating down from the sky. His eyes wrapped around her, warming her troubled heart and offering comfort that nothing else could. Even though it was only a dream, the feel of his lips, of his face, and his hair, lingered with her even now, as she was walking back and forth on the wedding stage, waiting for word from Kilika.
Every brush of cool breeze against her cheek made her close her eyes, thinking of the dream. Instead of her usual depression that came with such dreams, she felt supported, as if she could do anything, even if Tidus wasn't by her side physically.
Day had turned into night, and the small village of Besaid was drowned in light from the lanterns that lined the paths and walkways. Yuna could see Lulu stirring some substance in a pot above a convenient fire placed right out of her hut's doorway. Yuna, from the smell, assumed it was some sort of stew. She walked over, kneeling next to the fire.
Lulu smiled, looking up from the pot. "Feeling better?"
Yuna smiled in return, nodding. "Yes."
"Good. Now, mind telling me what had you so distraught? I saw some troops leaving. Something happen in Kilika?"
"From what one of the soldiers told me, a battle had broken out, and women...children...were killed. Mention the word 'massacre'."
Lulu looked past Yuna, as if in shock, but blinked sense back into herself. She hid her sad thoughts by returning her eyes back to the stew, stirring it vigorously.
"That's...terrible...Any word yet?"
"None."
Yuna sighed and stood up once more.
"Stew's almost ready if you want some," Lulu offered.
Yuna shook her head. "Thank you, but I'm not hungry at the moment."
Lulu nodded and, after covering her pale hands, picked up the streaming pot and took it into the hut. Yuna headed back towards the temple.
--------------------
A soldier came up to Gatta, blood soaking his uniform. "Bodies are in the ship, ready to be taken to Besaid."
Gatta nodded and waved the soldier off, looking at the mass of bodies now piled into the ship's hold. He sighed a shaky sigh, and stepped into the ship, giving the pile a wide berth. In all, they had counted nearly three hundred dead Crusaders. They had estimated about eleven hundred dead Yevonites, but that was based on the rocket attack plus the four hundred or so whole bodies they had counted, but not bothered dealing with, hoping that the retreated Yevonites would come pick them up. Gatta had selected about fifty men to return with Weston, Ughol, and him to Besaid, to help deal with the dead and regroup. The rest of the remaining Crusaders were posted into town, the heaviest guard patrols being sent to guard the field, with orders to let the Yevonites take their dead if they did not present a threat.
Weston was sitting off to the side, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him. His eyes seem to focus on something off into the distance, even farther than the pile of bodies. His face was still filthy, and his hands, as well as the front of his clothing, were covered in blood, and it wasn't his own.
Gatta looked at him for a moment, and Weston didn't seem to notice, so he moved on, looking for Ughol. He found Ughol shortly after in the cockpit, where the pilot and navigator were going through the pre-flight checklist, readying the ship for the heavy load.
Ughol looked up, his face also very dirty, making the whites of his eyes shine as if they were beacons. "Hey boss."
Gatta nodded, no emotion showing on his face. "Hey."
Ughol didn't seem to know what to say, and Gatta surely didn't have anything to say, not even pertaining to what they'd just been through.
The two men stood in silence, each one of them not really looking at anything particular. They had shared a true battle of urgency and handled it well, at least in Gatta's opinion. But still, as Weston had said, nothing could compare to the horror that taking a fellow human's life harbored.
The airship began to move and Gatta gripped the back of a chair to support himself as the ship jerked from the dock and turned, heading back to Besaid. Gatta knew it wouldn't be a long ride, had this been any normal ride. But this ride held about three hundred shattered lives and fifty forever-changed lives. He knew this would be a tremendous burden for everyone to bear, especially Yuna, but it was unavoidable. The town of Kilika was already taking heavy hits, seeing as the Yevonites had taken a third of the town's children in that cowardly act...
Gatta then thought back to that lone little girl, she seeming to be the only survivor of the massacre. He sighed and blinked the thought away, not wanting to let it get to him. He was a soldier, and a leader. Leaders didn't have time to cry, nor did they think over what they've done, because what they've done is in the best interest of the people watching, and participating, in the war.
Gatta closed his eyes and emptied his head. His body was begging him to find a bed to sleep on, but this night wasn't over yet. Ughol, once the airship had become steady, walked out of the cockpit, apparently heading back towards the hold. After a few moments, Gatta followed and found a rail to lean against as he stared at the pile of lifeless bodies.
--------------------
Wakka blinked the slumber from his eyes, a finger quickly tapping his shoulder. He looked to his right, and the sleeping form of Lulu was currently nuzzling into his thick bicep, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. He then turned a sleepy eye to his left, and saw the source of the tapping. A Crusader mouthed to him to get up. Wakka raised a brow, but did as he was told, slowly sliding his arm out from under Lulu. He slipped on his sandals but didn't bother with a shirt. The soldier led him out of the hut and into the town center, where a shadowy, and not to mention grimy, group of soldiers were collected. Gatta was in the center. Weston and Ughol were standing off to the side, not saying a word. Yuna, who looked to be still half-asleep, was standing at the temple steps, watching as Gatta whispered to the men. It was then that Wakka noticed that most of the other village men had been stolen away from their slumbers. He stopped near the group and listened closely to Gatta's words.
"We're going to be moving bodies of fallen Crusaders into the ocean. There's roughly three hundred or so, so we're needing every able bodied man. We would've went to the west end of the island, where the rest of the Crusader's barracks are, but we've got little time. The sun will be up in three hours and we need all the time we can get. We're not bothering with proper burial baskets. Like I said, we've got little time. Every man will carry a body, slide it into the tide, and then go back for another until told otherwise. This will not be a pretty process either. I hope you gentlemen don't like the clothes you're wearing now. Anyway, after the bodies have been moved, Yuna will send them. And don't say a word. The Farplane exists. We've probably all seen it. Regardless of what religious affiliation we are, we're going to send these souls. The last thing we need is a large group of fiends rampaging the island. Now, let's get to work. The bodies are in the airship."
And with that, Wakka slowly followed the tiptoeing group of men to the docks. A line formed and the first body was handed out. When the man walked by with the corpse thrown over his shoulder, Wakka winced. Not only was the smell of death growing, but the actual condition of the bodies had been tampered with, probably because they'd been piled so snugly into one area. A knot grew in Wakka's stomach as he watched body after body, some of the men he knew, most he didn't, be carried by. This much death had not occurred since Sin was at large. Wakka never thought he would've seen so much death again, let alone be it by human hands. How a political conflict could grow into something so deadly, he did not know. He shook his head and moved forward, trying not to think, only do.
The body was heavy, and Wakka had to use his wide shoulders to support it. The soldier looked no older than eighteen, the three bullet holes in his chest marking the end of his dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Wakka couldn't help but to let a tear roll down his cheek as he set the body into the tide, watching it float slowly off of shore, joining the many others. To Wakka, it was a march of the dead. A finger tapped his shoulder and he moved on, heading back to the docks. By sunlight, he would carry nearly thirty bodies to their resting place in the sea.
--------------------
Yuna slowly walked along the shore, looking at the huge mass of bodies in front of her. Tears rolled down her cheeks in waves, almost mimicking the ocean that would carry the bodies to wherever the driftwood ended up. She raised her staff and swung it, beginning the death dance, the dance she thought she would never perform again when the Eternal Calm came. She twirled and watched as the pyreflies left the bodies, swirling up much like the water surrounding her. Each little prism ball of light shot for the sky, where, Yuna hoped, they'd find their way into the Farplane, and eternal happiness.
--------------------
Weston watched the spectacle with little interest. Sure, he'd never seen something quite like this, but his mind was too tired, too jaded to care at the moment. He simply watched, letting the vision of Yuna's dance store into his memory, where he could marvel at it later.
He could feel eyes on him, but he didn't care. He simply stood there, arms crossed, one leg still wrapped in his sleeve, the blood now clotted. The cloth of his sleeve had stuck to the blood clot, and every time he moved, it caused him pain, but he didn't really let it bother him. He knew that when he could find a place to rest, he'd pull the cloth off with force and let another blood clot form, wiping away whatever fresh blood dripped down his leg. Afterwards, he'd slap some iodine from his first aid kit and wrap it in some gauze.
While he had grown to appreciate the potions, he couldn't find himself to use anything else but the remedies taught to him in basic training.
When Yuna had finally finished, the Crusaders around him left, apparently going back to Kilika to reinforce the guards there. Ughol went with them while Gatta decided to stay back, to give, with Weston's help, a full report to Yuna about the events that led up to, and occurred during, the battle.
But before Weston did any reporting, he made his way to the waterfalls along the back of the island. There, he washed his body, his clothes, and his mind of the gritty layer of dirt every battle seemed to leave behind.
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I truly think this chapter speaks for itself. But...
If there were anything I'd say about this, it'd be three simple words: War is hell. ~No One