Chapter 12: Lucid Dreams
"Well, do we go up or continue eastward?" Gerald Vestbrook shields his eyes from the sun as he looks upward, toward the peak of Mt. Ordeals. He curses himself quietly for not wearing something more appropriate for traveling in the intense heat. His white, collared shirt is riddled with dirt, as is his black slacks. His blonde hair sparkles with small beads of sweat as his arms gleam with the same salty wetness. He holds onto the reins attached to the chocobo underneath him as it stretches out its legs and lets out a soft cooing noise.
Porom looks to the east across the grassy plains as her chocobo bends over to pick on a few of the bugs at its feet.
"I say we continue down this way."
"What makes you say that?" Palom asks as he stretches his arms out and yawns.
"I don't think the Elder would have sent us up Mt. Ordeals if he was planning on going up there himself," Porom adjusts the straps of her backpack for more comfort. "Assuming he went east, we could probably catch up with him while riding the chocobos."
"Sounds good to me." Says Lyrca as she undoes her ponytail to let her long, brown hair breathe for a while.
"That's also assuming the Elder hasn't gotten onto a chocobo himself." Gerald counters.
"Nah, he wouldn't get on one of these feather-heads." Palom pats the head of his chocobo while saying this.
"Why's that?"
"The Elder's never ridden a chocobo in his life," Porom says. "He doesn't believe in using animals for transportation and such. 'Just leave them be' is what he always says." She reaches into her pocket for a bar of candy and takes a bite out of it. Little crumbs fall onto her green tunic, one of many that she keeps in her wardrobe.
The heat of the sun begins to intensify as it reaches its peak in the sky. Lyrca puts on a straw hat with a wide brim to help protect her from the searing rays.
"Shall we continue then?"
Gerald takes a moment to clean his glasses with a handkerchief from his back pocket, and then says, "Let's go."
They each steer their chocobos eastward, and with a little nudge of their feet, the chocobos begin a slow march.
"Stop!"
Three of the travelers turn to look at the fourth—Palom.
"What's wrong?" Porom asks, sensing that something's amiss. She looks at their surroundings, toward the plains to the east, back west where they came from, to the south at a small alcove of trees, north up Mt. Ordeals, then back to her brother.
"What is it hun?" Lyrca asks.
"I have a major twitch." Palom stares at the alcove of trees to the south, looking for something, anything—movement, shadows, flickers of light. He squints his eyes in an attempt to peer through the dark foliage.
"Should we be worried?" Gerald takes out a dagger tucked under his belt.
All of a sudden, the chocobos begin to buck and squeal. Their wild movements seek to dethrone their riders. The four travelers hang on to their reins for dear life while trying to keep their chocobos under control.
"Whoa girl, take it easy," Gerald calms his ride down, lightly stroking it's feathered neck. "Everyone all right?"
"Yeah, I think my bird's ok." Porom turns to Lyrca, who looks back at her and nods in acknowledgement to say that she's fine. Lyrca then turns to Palom who continues his piercing gaze into the trees.
"I see something." Palom reaches for the hilt of the short sword strapped to his back. His grip around it is so tight due to the adrenaline that the muscles between his fingers begin to ache.
Porom follows her brother's sight, searching for whatever it is that—
Wait—
There it is. A pair of blinking yellow eyes floats in the darkness. Not so much yellow, Porom thinks to herself, as it is golden.
Lyrca nervously guides her chocobo behind Palom, seeking refuge and protection from whatever beast that's lurking amongst the trees. She's never been in a fight in her life, never been in any real danger, and she's never had to worry about that…until now. Her blue eyes widen with terror, her face cringes with fright. An intense shiver shoots through her body with rapid speed, up and down, up and down. A sudden need to vomit overcomes her, but that is quickly repressed as she covers her mouth with her hands. She can feel her heart pounding with increased speed, as her lungs breathe in even quicker succession.
Gerald stands ready to throw his dagger at any moment as Porom takes hold of her magic rod. The glass ball at the top of the rod glows a bright blue, pulsing rhythmically to the tune of the magic flowing through it.
The glowing eyes get larger as they make their way through the thick brush towards the four travelers, and suddenly with a large leap, it's out in the open.
"AAHH! What is it?!" Lyrca screams as she covers her eyes with her hands.
The other three release a nervous laugh, prodding Lyrca to take a peek at the horrible monster that jumped out of the trees. She lets out a huge sigh of relief as she watches the most beautiful cat she's ever seen take a lazy stroll across the grass.
"Aww it's so cute," she says. "I've never seen one with such a nice looking coat of fur."
"Me neither," replies Porom. "In fact I've never seen an ordinary house cat this far away from civilization."
"Must be some kind of inbreeding thing or something," Palom, after realizing he was still clutching onto the hilt of his sword, releases his grip on it. "I mean check out the eyes. I've never seen those kind of eyes on any animal."
"Perhaps it's good luck that we've run into this very rare little creature," Gerald puts his dagger away. "Maybe now we'll find the Elder in no time."
"Speaking of which, we should continue on." Porom taps her chocobo toward the east.
The other three follow suit leaving behind the cat with the golden eyes. It stands still, watching them, one by one along the base of Mt. Ordeals, its eyes glimmer in the sunlight.
Interlude
"This journey will be the death of me." The Elder says half jokingly to himself. He slowly bends down and takes a seat under the shade of an oak tree, laying his magic staff at his side.
His entire body feels like it's on fire. Probably just the heat of the sun he thinks to himself. But it was more than that. He's old, and his body just can't handle the pressures and stresses of such a long journey in the burning blaze of the sun. His calf muscles have tightened up on him continuously, and his body is dehydrated.
"Just a half a mile more and I'll be at the stream," he whispers. "Then it's off to Haywood."
The Elder closes his eyes for a second, to let his weary lids rest.
Clank. Clank.
"What was that?" The Elder opens his eyes and is greeted by a sight that shocks him to the very core of his being.
A line of people in single file drag their tired feet through the plains, not more than twelve feet away from him. Their legs are chained together as well as their arms. The Elder sits wide-eyed as he looks east and west, the line seems never ending. About every five yards there is an astonishing array of deformed beasts with whips in hand, striking the ground to get the line of prisoners to move faster. Every so often they would whip the people themselves, just for the fun of it.
There are continuous moans and sounds of weeping. Bloody scars grace the bodies of most of these unfortunate people. Their tattered clothes and dirty faces, the smell of people who haven't bathed in weeks…
The Elder tries to stand up to help them, but he can't move. An attempt to reach for his magic staff also fails.
"Am I dreaming?"
No one seems to pay him any mind, as if he isn't even there.
Clank. Clank.
--More weeping, more moaning.
"Don't worry people," says a nasty, husky voice. It seems to be coming from the other side of the human train. "You'll all be put to good use."
The Elder squints his eyes, trying to get a look between people. He can see a shadowy form begin to take shape, but that's all. That and a wicked looking smile.
"I know what you're trying to do Ghilwood Llewelyn."
The Elder's heart seizes for a moment leaving him gasping for breath.
"This is a dream. I know it is, it's got to be."
"I know what you're doing and it won't work old man. The time has come for new leadership. It's time for new blood, new order. Chaos will reign, Ghilwood. You are the final obstacle, and once you pass on from this world it will be I who assumes command."
"I will stop you," Ghilwood whispers in spite. "I still have life. You underestimate me."
The sinister shadow laughs hysterically.
"Noble words from someone who should have been dead long ago. I know more about you than you think…Ghilwood. I'll let you finish your little journey. It will be your last hurrah before your final breath. I shall savor the moment when your body lies dead in the ground—nothing more than rotting flesh for the maggots. History will remember the day when chaos ruled once again. Chaos will live within the hearts of every soul, every child, every town and village. And all that you built, all that you fought for so valiantly and foolishly will bleed. Your world will be turned into one of rape and pillage. Chaos will live!"
Clank. Clank.
"Chaos! Chaos! Chaos!" The chants grow louder and louder. If the Elder could cover his ears he would, but his arms weren't moving.
"Chaos! Chaos!"
The shadow moves with great swiftness. In a blinding flash he is face to face with the Elder—nothing more than blackness with a bright white smile. The Elder feels something pierce his chest and looks down. The dagger in his heart is splattered with his blood. The shadow's hand pushes the dagger deeper, all the way to the hilt.
"Chaos, Chaos…" the shadow whispers, in sync with the chants.
"NO!" The Elder screams himself awake. Though under the cooling shade of the oak tree, he is sweating all over. His breathing is harsh, and a little wheezy. He brings his hand to his chest, feeling for the rip in his skin, or maybe the cold dagger itself. Nothing. Nothing but a sweat-laden tunic. They're getting worse, he thinks to himself. The dreams are more intense now.
"I must hurry."
The Elder immediately grabs his magic staff to help lift him off the ground. He takes out a small cloth from the pouch at his side and wipes his face of the sweat. With the dream still firmly planted in his mind, the Elder continues his trek to the stream ahead, and then onward to the town of Haywood.
End of Interlude
"What the hell is it?! Is it the cat?!"
"Palom?! Are you all right? Palom!"
"I can't see it?! What is it?"
Porom tries to answer Gerald's cry, but she's finding it very difficult to speak at the moment. Everything happened so fast that there wasn't time to react to it. Palom's already knocked unconscious with a deep gash on both his legs and streaking wounds on his back, Lyrca has completely lost control of her emotions and is riding towards Palom's limp body, her wide-brimmed hat falling to the ground carelessly, and Gerald is being attacked from behind while still atop his chocobo.
One thing was for certain. It was the cat attacking them, but it's not the same one—or is it? It has the same golden eyes and beautiful fur coat, but this cat is no ordinary house cat out for a lazy stroll across the field. This cat is a cougar, the largest one Porom's ever seen. Its huge claws raked its way along Palom's back and legs, and now its thick, white fangs are ready to sink their way into Gerald's flesh.
Porom takes hold of the magic rod at her waist, but it's caught on the strap of her belt. She tugs and toils with it frantically.
Gerald's chocobo bucks and spins, scared to death by the vicious beast pouncing on it. Gerald grasps the reins tightly, but he can feel it slipping through his sweat soaked hands. The cougar's heated breath feels like a burn on Gerald's neck. Its loud roars pierce his ears, sending a sharp, shrill shiver through his entire body. One hand loses its grip, and Gerald tries desperately to grab a handful of feathers on the chocobos back.
Meanwhile, Lyrca is at Palom's side trying to wake him from his unconscious state. His wounds are horrid, and his breathing is shallow. Lyrca, with a traffic load of thoughts flooding her mind, holds her hands out over Palom's back, and tries a healing spell the Elder taught her. Her trembling hands begin to glow a light blue as she whispers magic words.
In the meantime, Porom has freed her rod from her belt strap, just as Gerald is thrown off his chocobo. The frightened bird jets off toward the east, kicking up clouds of dust with every thrust of its feet. Gerald gathers his senses and reaches for the dagger tucked underneath his belt, but it's not there. He looks around his immediate surroundings, searching for his only weapon.
Porom raises her steel, magic rod and begins a white magic spell, which she hopes will buy Gerald time to escape.
Lyrca's hands glow brighter as she continues to heal her badly wounded fiancée. The bloody cuts across Palom's back begin to seal themselves shut.
Gerald spots his dagger sitting against a rock near the base of Mt. Ordeals. He quickly crawls on all fours, hoping upon hope that he can reach it before it's too late. Unfortunately it is too late as the cougar pounces on his backside and rips its jagged teeth into Gerald's right leg. Gerald screams out in pain and tries with all his might to throw the cougar off his back. But the fiery feline is too powerful as it pushes Gerald back to the ground giving him a face full of dirt. The cougar's long claws dig deep into the small of Gerald's back—he utters another painful scream. With the other claw, the maniacal beast flips Gerald over and rakes across his chest, ripping clothing and flesh, spraying blood across the dirt.
In a last ditch effort, Gerald raises his left leg and kicks out with all the strength left in his weary body. He scores a good hit under the cougar's chin, snapping its neck backwards and sending it reeling for a moment. That's a moment long enough for Porom to complete her spell as a magical white mist streams forth from the orb atop her rod. The mist surrounds her weakened companion, forming a solid barrier around him.
The enormous cougar gathers its senses, lets out a bloody roar, and releases an intense orange beam from its gaping mouth. The beam strikes hard against the protective barrier, which gives way immediately, exploding into a hundred pieces and sending Gerald flying backwards. He hits his head against the stone base of Mt. Ordeals and loses consciousness.
Now the cougar turns its attention to Porom.
Seeing no way out, Porom takes a defensive stance against the creature, holding her magic rod up in front of her.
"Lyrca! Get back to your chocobo and ride back to Mysidia! I'll hold this thing off while you go get help! It's our only chance!"
Lyrca looks back to Palom, torn between staying and going. Will I ever see you again? She asks herself. Hesitantly she gets up and makes a mad dash for her chocobo who's gone into hiding amongst the gathering of trees to the south. She grabs hold of the reins and leaps atop her ride. The chocobo is wary of going out into the open, as it knows what's out there. With a lot of prodding, the chocobo is on the move and heading west towards Mysidia.
"You're not going to take me down that easily." Porom raises her rod threateningly at the feline menace.
"It's going to be easier than you think little one." Growls the cougar.
Porom is taken aback by the sudden speech of her attacker.
"What are you?"
The cougar just smiles and hunches over, ready for the attack.
Lyrca continues to ride, onward across the fields, sweat streaking down her face. Her clothing is torn and dirty; her mind is racing—faster than the chocobo beneath her. The wind feels fierce against her body, like shards of glass cutting across her form. There is nothing on her mind now but Palom—his face, his laugh, everything about him. She prays that he's all right. I'll get help from Mysidia and everything will be okay, she thinks to herself. It'll all go back to normal…just a few more miles…calm down…everything's fine Lyrca…keep going faster damn girl…
What's that…something behind me?
"It can't be," she whispers to herself. "It can't be that fast…Porom was supposed to stall it…"
The sounds behind her get louder, closer…
(ready to pounce my dear)
"This isn't happening, no. It's just my mind…just my mind…"
She dares not look back for fear that the cougar will be looking right at her through bloodshot, golden eyes; its mouth gaping with strings of saliva, and blood dangling from its ferocious teeth; its claws ready for the kill, for the tearing of flesh and bone. She swears she can hear the creature panting, breathing down her neck. Or maybe it's just its piercing stare, its menacing gaze, like when you can feel that someone's watching you.
Lyrca's curiosity gets the better of her as she takes a quick glance backwards.
Nothing.
Her short look is not short enough though as she doesn't see the large bush in front of her. The chocobo leaps high into the air to clear the foliage, bending its neck down to dodge a low lying branch from a nearby tree. Unfortunately, Lyrca is caught completely off guard. The branch clotheslines her across the chest, sending her flying off her feathered ride and into an uncontrollable fall. Her body twists and turns three or four times before slamming into the ground with a thunderous thud, cracking a few ribs and her right wrist in the process. Tears pour freely from her blue eyes as the pain is so excruciating, that she is unable to move or even scream. Lyrca tries desperately to get to her feet, but she's finding it very difficult to even breathe correctly.
A fierce and blood curdling roar fills the field to Lyrca's dismay. She can now here the padded paws of the cougar getting closer, more pronounced. Hope leaves her body with every second, until the beast is upon her.
(no more running…no more wedding)
Lyrca looks up, straight into the open mouth of her killer; its mouth filled with the stench of dead animals mixed with blood and saliva; its golden eyes shimmer and sparkle, cutting through her like an invisible spear. That is the last thing she sees before everything goes black…
…that, and the unmistakable roar of her soon to be murderer.