Chapter II

Allies of Hate

and

Proclamations of Doom

In another place, less than a hundred miles from where Glenn was still ensnared by nightmares, another person slept fitfully. Cold sweat rolled down his pale forehead, and he tossed and turned vehemently. With a startled gasp, Magus sat bolt upright in bed, visibly shaken. With a wave of a shaking hand, the torches flared to life, illuminating the room with their flickering light. He quickly gathered himself, and began once again to examine the dream in detail.

For the third night in a row he had had the dream. He reviewed every aspect of it in his head, knowing that dreams oft times held hidden secrets, especially recurring dreams. The dream always started out the same, with a calm lassitude that made the latter part of the dream seem all the more horrific in contrast.

Magus stood in an empty wheat field, with the summer sun set off to the west. The darkening clouds seemed suspended in the endless sky, and the red rays of sunset danced across the lonely landscape. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings. Then, he saw that this field was not completely empty, for to his great surprise and joy, not far from him stood his long lost sister, Schala. They stared at each other for a moment, the man who had struck the world with terror at a loss as to what to say. Then, recognition seemed to flash in Schala's eyes, and she ran toward her long lost brother, and before he could deter her, she leaped forward and embraced him. If I was at a loss before, he thought ironically. I'm a complete doddering fool now… He tried to tell her what had happened, how she could never love one so corrupted as he, but words still failed him. Then abruptly, he realized they were not alone.

Close by was another woman, dressed all in black, a crystal saber in her hands. Magus had no idea where she had come from, but it mattered little. He looked at her disdainfully. With a wave of one hand he sent a massive wall of flame to destroy the insolent woman. But, as soon as the magical fire reached her, it disappeared as it touched her hands and face, leaving a gaping hole in the searing wall. Realizing his opponent was more powerful than he had imagined, he pushed Schala behind him, his massive scythe appearing in his hands. But even as the dread weapon was summoned to him, the woman in black struck, her blade moving faster than he could follow with his eyes, piercing he magical defense and armor and impaling him full in the chest. He could feel the cold crystal sink into him, and with a lurch he fell, unable to move.

Schala, with a terrified shriek, came running to him, and immediately bent over him, tears streaming down her face, about to heal him with her magic. But she never had the chance. Like a ray of light, the crystal blade stuck again, beheading his Schala instantly. Then, with insolent grace, she walked over across the field, and casually picked up the head of his sister, and that of the boy, Crono. Anger beyond the infernal pit of hell rose within him, and he struggled to rise, but the woman stabbed him once more, and his strength left him. The last thing he saw before he slipped away was the form of Glenn, the knight he had turned into a frog, charging at the woman, the great Masamune burning in his hands. He shouted something, but Magus was already too far gone to hear. Finally, the darkness enveloped him, and he knew no more.

Thus had the dream, the nightmare, had been for these three days, ever haunting his sleep. He shivered, and the Black Wind howled within him, in a rage such as he had not felt since the days of Lavos. He carefully went over his line of thought again, and with a sudden flash of insight he knew that if he did not somehow prevent Crono's death, the dream would come to pass. And Glenn somehow played an important role as well, and so must come with him. Come with him to the eleventh century.

He smiled grimly. His relations with the frog-knight were stiff at very best, and Magus did not look forward to trying to convince him to come with him. Seeing as he had killed his best friend, the knight Cyrus, and then changed him into what he is today, Magus couldn't blame him. That was done back when his thirst for revenge on Lavos consumed him, and he abandoned all aspects of human emotion. How ironic it was that Crono, the very epitome of mercy and human emotion, had been the one that had truly finished off Lavos. He had the skill in battle and magical potential that filled in the gaps where everyone else lacked. Not only that, but he was a natural leader.

The thought of the redhead brought the image of Crono from the dream to Magus's mind. He was not a friend to this dangerous young man, but more an ally. He would shed no tears should the boy die, but still… Crono had been the only one that had tried to understand him without trying to change him. For that, and his battle prowess, Magus gave him well earned respect. But not enough for him to do little more than warn the boy. But with this revelation with Schala… Magus would become his best friend if it meant averting the calamity he had foreseen in his dream.

Magus cleared his thoughts. He was dawdling. He quickly went throughout his castle, gathering the supplies he would need for this journey. He girded on his set of Moon Armor, and he was soon ready. He followed the twisting passage to a set of stairs that spiraled upward to the upper-most tower, the torches flaring to life as he walked by. He didn't bother to actually walk up the stairs, but instead glided along them, his boots several feet from the floor. Soon, he reached his destination, the spiraling cobalt balcony which overlooked his castle.

With a final look about him, he leaped off the edge, his cloak pulled fast around his face. He knew Glenn was somewhere in that direction, and he knew that he must find him soon. He tightened his grip on the cloak, the Black Wind howling through him again as he flew toward the rising sun.

***

Crono slowed as he reached the edge of Guardia Forest; his steps sounded unnaturally loud to his ears. The forest he had crossed a thousand times seemed strangely unfriendly to him. The giant oaks marked the forest as very old, and thick brush made for excellent hiding places. It had some monsters some time ago, but they'd seen enough that they knew that he was one guy they had better steer clear of. He had even hunted most of them down once after they began waylaying travelers to the castle, but they always seemed to return after a while. Shaking his head, he continued on his journey.

He would be there soon. It was only a few miles, and he could cover it much faster if he ran, but instinct (or maybe just habit) told him he should be more cautious. And so, he continued on into the forest, the shining sun gradually dimming as he got deeper. The dripping noises and very faint rustling sounds that were always in attendance in this forest were annoyingly present, occasionally punctuated by a gust of wind. But then he realized what had been bothering him; he didn't hear another sound. There were always birds of some sort in these trees, and he knew if it were the normal monsters, they would make much more noise, not to mention be hurrying away.

His hand strayed to his sword hilt, and he mentally prepared himself for anything. Or at least almost anything. If Lavos popped out of the bushes, or maybe even Queen Zeal or Dalton, he'd probably be so surprised they'd take him out before he could allow the sight to register. He tried to walk casually, pretending he did not notice anything amiss. He knew he was probably being silly, because he had already looked around suspiciously and put his hand on his sword hilt. Oh well, he thought. It couldn't hurt. Of course, he needn't have bothered, for a voice then growled at him, breaking the hush about the forest.

"You're a fool, aleia-leni,"

It sounded all hoarse and hollow, with a faint squeaking wheeze in the background. Crono turned his head swiftly, trying to locate the voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere. After being unable to find the speaker, he settled for looking totally unperturbed. If the coward wanted to hide, then so be it. Crono would find him eventually. "So, may I call you Annabel, since you seem to be making up names for me?" he called out sarcastically.

"Do not joke with me, aleia-leni, I'll not stand for it," the voice replied scathingly, sounding even more raspy. "I come here for a purpose. I am to send you to meet your maker,"

This bravado of the hidden voice almost cheered Crono up. He'd lost count of how many times someone had said something like that to him. "I believe you have me mistaken for someone else, my friend," he replied jovially, "But, dear Annabel, can I suggest some cough medicine for that voice? After all, everyone wants to be in good health before they die."

With a wordless snarl, the person (or thing) possessing the voice snapped it's fingers. Immediately six figures stepped into the light. They looked like large imps with slightly elven features, but twisted and grotesque. They each wore a shining body suit of tight mail, with an intricate blue symbol emblazoned on the front. It was the symbol for the magic of Ice. Crono knew that because he had owned one such suit at one time on his adventure. But these looked to be much more potent that the one he had worn. They also carried short swords and spears that kept changing in length. He would have to watch out for that.

The voice howled with glee. "You see, aleia-leni, these agragre have protection so that any spell of Ice you cast will be rebounded against you! And it is well known that you lack skill with the sword." The voice continued it's mad laughter, punctuated by occasional taunting. The six advanced steadily toward him, their confidence evident on their misshapen faces. Crono grinned, his spirits higher that ever. Oh, he felt lots of gloom and doom about omens and luck at times, but when it came to the battle field, he was at his best. And besides, their revealing their ignorance had given him a clear advantage.

They had no idea what they were up against.

In the blink of an eye, the Rainbow Sword flew out of its sheath, and the two closest of the creatures each became about a head shorter. Slightly taken aback, the remaining four shifted to a defensive posture, and Crono took full advantage of the move. He went in for a spiraling thrust, and the nearest of the agragre blocked it just in time before it sliced through his shining mail, but the move was paid for at a high price, because Crono sliced the weapon evenly in half. The next in line shot out an extended slash at Crono's left side, trying to hamstring him, but Crono almost negligently flicked it aside and continued to press on the offensive. He didn't plan on giving them an inch of room to spread out and use those extend-o-spears. So he continued his onslaught, slowly pressing them backward.

But, things never seem to go the way you plan in a battle. Six more of the strange creatures were charging at him from the back, with much enthusiastic if slightly confused shouting from the thing in the trees. Improvising, Crono leapt to one side, and made as if to run that way, but reversed his momentum, caching two more of the agragre off guard before they could put up their defense. They joined their brothers on the ground.

But even as he won this little victory, the new wave was upon him, their long-becoming blades already in range of his body. He was really beginning to wish he had brought his Moon Armor as well as his sword.

He began to defend himself from this new threat when another set of six was coming his way. What, were the things breeding on the spot? Crono gritted his teeth as one of the blades cut slightly into his side, and an other one left a gash on his face. His anger kindled, he roared, and with a great double slash with the Rainbow, an attack he had become famous for, he took out 5 weapons and 3 agragres, all of which cost him blood from new small cuts. Alright. That was it. He had had it.

Concentrating, he sheathed his sword and leaped into the air-and to the creatures' astonishment, stayed there. With precise control, he exerted himself with the magic he had learned to use so well. A tiny particle of light traveled from every one of the creatures to him-including one from the trees. He used them as target markers, so he would know were to strike. With one last effort, he threw his hands into the air, and a shock wave emitted from his form. Instantly, huge bolts of lightning shot out from him in every direction. Every direction, that is, where an enemy was. In a matter of moments, every one of the creatures exploded, was blown in half, or simply turned to dust.

All except one-one that he had put just a little less punch into the blast. The squat figure fell from the tree even as Crono landed back on his feat, slightly out of breath, but hardly spent. Redrawing the Rainbow, he leaped over to his formerly-obnoxious opponent, and laid the sword hard on the ugly but human face.

"Alright," Crono said tightly. "Who are you, and what do you want?" When the man did not answer, Crono stepped on him hard and roared "Tell me!"

The old man smiled. "If I told you, I would face a fate far worse than any death you could give me," And then, without another word, the man pulled a knife and slashed himself through the heart. Crono pulled back in disgust, and looking at the devastation around-the blasted corpses and splintered trees-he knew he must tell Nadia. There was too many things happening at once for his comfort. Something was going on behind the scenes, and he intended to find out what.

***

Nadia groaned inwardly, seeing another of her helpers coming to see her. She too would no doubt begin asking her about the tiniest thing having to do with the wedding, after which Nadia would have to tell her what she already knew to do anyway, carefully explain it, then answer any questions that might pop into the dippy thing's head. Yet this always seemed to satisfy them. She remembered something her father had once told her. "You must learn to delegate some power to others you trust, for no man or woman can do everything for themselves." She believed him. She wished her helpers would.

'She sighed, her delicate features resolute, her red-gold hair tied up into a long pony tail. She had let it grow long after their adventure, so it now hung down to her waist. She was wearing a simple yet elegant white gown, adorned with small pearls and ruffles. It was perfectly proper, yet had cleverly divided skirts, and a hiding place for her small dagger. Her back itched to this day with the absence of her crossbow, and she dearly wished her father would let her carry it with her. But no matter. She had other ways of defending herself.

Nadia sighed again, a little more vexed this time. She should have known better not to have asked Crono to come so early in the morning. Then again, if she had asked him to come at midday, he still probably would have slept until his mother woke him, and would have arrived in late afternoon. When would that boy grow up? Why did he have to do this every time? Why couldn't he simply get up and face the music like everyone else? She shuddered, briefly imagining herself standing in the aisle on her wedding day, as Crono came running up half clothed and an hour late. Every second she grew more irritated. It even began to show through to the surface, and the maids and helpers began avoiding her. Maybe she should be annoyed more often.

Exasperated, she slammed her fist hard down on the table. A maid nearby, glanced at her, then began to grumble something like "Very unladylike…" She didn't care if it was very unladylike. She was sure that if the maid had said it to her face, she'd show her what unladylike really was.

Glancing at the clock on the nearby wall (a gift from Lucca) she gritted her teeth. What could possibly be keeping him this long? She swore that when Crono got here she would give him a piece of her mind. She would first give him a royal ultimatum, then she would punch him in the gut, grab his hair, and then-

But all these thoughts fled from her when the man himself strode into the room. There was a vicious cut on the left side of his face, and blood was showing through his slightly ripped shirt. A maid was protesting nearby that he shouldn't just barge in and that he should go to the doctor. Taking note to fire that maid, Nadia rushed over to him, and instantly small particles of light flew from her fingers, quickly healing his wounds. She could see the cut on his face reduced to a small line, and most of the blood disappearing. Almost as soon as she reached him she embraced him in a crushing hug, and he grunted from the force of her grip.

"Thanks," he gasped after she had finally released him.

It seemed Nadia couldn't get out all her questions at once. "Are you all right? What happened? Who did that to you? When I find out who it is, I swear I'll-"

Calmly, he placed his hand over her mouth, making sure to be gentle. "How am I going to tell you if you don't let me say anything?" he said with a slight smile. After he removed his hand, she opened her mouth to tell him the next time he did that to her she'd bite his hand, but snapped it shut again. Instead, she said "Alright, Mr. almost-getting-killed-is-no-cause-for-concern. Lay it on me."

And so he did. He told her of the bell's change in sound, and the bad feeling of déjà vu that had accompanied it. He told her of the voice on the road, and the name they had called him. Then he described the grotesque creatures that had ambushed him, the agragre, and their magic weapons. He also informed her of the mistake in thinking he had Ice magic, and how it had cost them dearly. Then, when he had finished telling of how the man that fell out of the trees killed himself, Nadia spat with disgust.

"Dirty bastards," she growled through clenched teeth. Crono was slightly taken aback. He had never heard her speak like that before. Although he didn't know it, she was terrified to death of losing him again, for there was no Chrono Trigger to save him this time. Ignoring her lapse in language, (something she would never have done for Crono), Nadia sat down for the first time since Crono had begun his story. She put her chin in her hand, and thought hard. She shook her head. Nadia was better at making plans; solving mysteries was Lucca's department. "Oh, I wish Lucca were here," she complained. "She'd have an idea of some sort what was going on."

"Your wish is my command," Lucca's voice came from close by, and with a slight ripple in the air, she appeared. Crono and Nadia nearly jumped out of their skin, Crono's sword flying out of its sheath and Nadia reaching for the crossbow that wasn't there. When they realized it was Lucca, they relaxed visibly, and panted with the breath they just discovered they had been holding.

"Don't ever do that again!" Crono gasped, still trying to recover. Nadia, on the other hand, took this in stride much faster.

"I see you perfected the Shifter," she said dryly, indicating the metal object in Lucca's hand.

"Yep. Works dandy, doesn't it?"

"Uh huh. Suppose you could warn us a little next time? We're high strung people."

"Sorry. I'll make a note of that."

"And just how long have you been following me?" Crono broke in, finally calming down.

"Oh, about since you left Truce,"

"And you didn't help in the fight?"

"Actually, I did," she replied grimly, her hand going to the gun at her side. "Let's just say there were an extra six coming that never saw what hit them."

Crono shrugged, but didn't say anything. He almost never did. That was one trait about her husband-to-be that Nadia found somewhat annoying. Even in dire situations, he would rarely say anything beyond answering simple questions, and mostly with yes or no. It amazed her how much he could communicate non-verbally in most situations, even in battle. She had to learn that someday. It would really be helpful for court officiaries. Of course, they might be too thick to notice.

"Nadia!" Lucca said louder, and Nadia started. "You wanted my help, right? Then pay attention."

Nadia gave her an apologetic look. "Alright, people," Lucca continued briskly, "It's time to work some things out. First, someone has obviously mistaken Crono for someone else, or more likely someone is impersonating him. Because, after all, there is probably no one else in history that looks anything like him. No offense, Crono."

Crono looked like he was about to say something, but instead remained silent. "So," Nadia said "What do we do now? How do we find out about our enemies?"

"Unfortunately, there is very little we can do at this time. There is too little evidence, not enough data for us to form any sort of hypotheses to gauge a course of action. However, be on your guard."

Crono looked as if he understood most of what she said (after all, they'd been best friends since they were kids), but Nadia's face drew a complete blank. "I don't know enough now to make any guesses," Lucca sighed, and comprehension dawned in Nadia's expression.

"So you're saying that we're just suppose to wait?" a flustered Nadia burst out.

"Yep," Lucca replied glumly. "Right now that's about all we can do. That, and be ready for anything. Not so different from back in our adventuring days, huh?"

"Oh, what fun," Crono grumbled, a sound which was echoed loudly by his stomach. Abruptly, he remembered he hadn't eaten at all today. Without another word, he dashed off toward the kitchens, leaving the women to wonder if he'd lost his mind.

***

Magus growled to himself, and his eyes flashed with anger. Where could that cursed frog be? Despite Magus's best efforts, he was nowhere to be found. He could, perhaps, simply have asked one of the many travelers along the road; those people see everything. That is, of course, if he weren't a renowned tyrant that terrified everyone he came in contact with. How was a frog man so hard to miss? The very idea that Glenn was avoiding him was preposterous, yet he remained unfound.

Magus had first searched the home of the knight, and found signs of hasty departure. But there did not seemed to be any signs of a struggle, so Magus assumed that his slimy friend was still alive. That and he probably couldn't possibly be killed by anything in this age. Perhaps maybe not even by Magus himself. The thought made Magus a bit uneasy, but he had learned from past experience against the Masamune, so if they ever did fight, he would be prepared. He thought that Glenn would probably be ready, too.

Magus shook his head. He was not here to fight, but to ally, to convince. He was fairly sure that Glenn would go along with it, but there was a chance he might be untrusting of Magus, and refuse to go. Magus didn't know, but he knew he must try. He just hoped this little bit of good will didn't get him killed. With a sigh, he faced the fact that he really must go down and ask someone. With a sour look, he steeled himself to the task, and flew down to land lightly on the ground. After a short while, he encountered someone. Their reactions were exactly as he had predicted.

It was a short man with a long, pointy nose and dark eyes. He had messy coarse black hair that was none to clean, and wore a dirty brown overcoat and breeches. His wife rode beside him, her pail dress in a similar state as her husband's clothing, but her long hair was meticulously combed back in waves. She had a gaunt, hungry look on her face, which was mirrored by the small dog and pack mule that were with them. They were plodding along on small, squat horses, not particularly paying attention to the road ahead of them. Magus cleared his throat to get their attention, and they looked lazily up at him. Magus tried to speak, but after one furtive glance at his flowing black cloak, his wild dark blue hair, and fine pointed ears, the two turned tail and ran, whipping their horses as if the devil himself were after them. Magus put his hand over his eyes in disgust. He wondered how long it would be before he met someone with the slightest bit of backbone, or at least who had not heard of him. Probably a long time.

So he continued, and after four more groups of people ran at the mere sight of him, he was about ready to kill something. He spat with disgust as the last group faded into the distance. What spineless weaklings. They couldn't even face him for one moment, much less talk to him. If he wanted them dead, they would have been before they could have gone a single step. Grimly, he continued on. He had walked a small distance along the road from meeting the last group of travelers when a voice hailed him.

"So, I see thou hast taken to frightening away wayfarers. An interesting hobby, but one I myself would not enjoy."

Magus's sheer loathing of the general populous turned into utter surprise when the person he had been seeking for at least two days just walked right up to him and said hello. The irony of fate is truly to mock the mighty.

"I have been looking for you," Magus replied, managing to completely cover up his surprise. "I have a favor to ask of you,"

Now it was Glenn's turn for surprise. "A favor to ask of me?" he asked, dumbfounded. "What couldst thou possibly need of me?"

"The Black Wind howls, Glenn. The tides of fate once more are hung in the balance. Things of great darkness gather again."

"And art thou not a thing of darkness thyself?"

Magus smiled. "I am the darkness in the light; a blighted shadow that only seeks to overthrow himself."

Glenn nodded slowly, understanding the subtle admittance to the remark. Then, he looked at Magus more closely, and an image spun into his mind. The image of the man lying on the ground, dying, with a woman weeping ever his chest. With a sharp intake of breath, he made the connection. "Hast thou had any strange dreams of late?" he asked tentatively.

This time, Magus could not hide his surprise. He just stood there a moment, not knowing what to say.

Growing more confident, Glenn asked "Of a woman in black, with a crystal word, who slew thee and Crono, and thy sister?"

Finding his voice, Magus simply said "So you have had that dream as well,"

"Aye, that I have. And others, too." Glenn looked at him again, years of hate and suspicion still alive and well within him. To put it bluntly, he wanted Magus dead. After killing his best friend, turning him into a freak, and hurling his entire kingdom into a state of war, Glenn found it very hard to forgive and forget. Yet, beyond all that, Glenn knew that he and Magus had a common purpose. And perhaps allying himself with Magus was the only way to save his friends.

"I've come to ask an... alliance of you," Magus said "I feel it imperative that I must travel to the eleventh century. I'm not sure why, but I know also that you must go. Something deep within me, deeper that our hatred, tells me that if you are not there, my task will fail."

There was an awkward silence. "Very well," Glenn said, extending his hand. "An alliance then."

Slowly, Magus took it. Anything for Schala. "An alliance," he replied solemnly. Some deep part of the world shifted with that handshake. An alliance had been made like none other, the kind that only happened once in hundreds of thousands of years. Mortal enemies put old feuds aside for a greater good, and vowed they would do all they could to assist each other. It was an alliance of hate, mistrust, and above all… honor. An alliance they would keep to their last breaths, for the ones they loved.