Queen of Souls
By Soul Hunter
Chapter Six
Paperwork. If there was one thing he hated the most, that was paperwork.
He rubbed his eyes vigorously once more. It was almost an hour past midnight and he still hasn't gone through half the stack of documents that he needed to go through for this evening. General Caraway, who alternately answered to the call of president, still hasn't come to terms with the set of duties that were still new to him up to this time. How long has it been? More than a year? And still he has yet to acclimate himself to the new responsibilities brought to him as a result of the last Sorceress War.
He was acting president now, a position that was rather forced into him with the demise of the dictator, Vinzer Deling. And it wasn't exactly a smooth road down the stretch so far, he thought. He already had to contend with at least one serious mutiny. Not that he mind the obstacles that stood his way, he wasn't exactly the overly naïve leader who thought everything was going to be fine once the despot was removed from his abusive post. Even though it showed in less times than he expected, he still knew that the Galbadian people were still gripped with a shade of paranoia with having the armed forces chief of staff taking over the helm of government. Somehow, people just couldn't differentiate between a civilian tyrant and a military topbrass who meant only to instill order and peace amongst the populace. He knew they still don't trust him to a certain degree.
Caraway thought he could cope with that. Besides, he really didn't have much choice. And he'd rather face a mob of skeptics than sit behind his desk all day, reviewing proposals and petitions intently to separate the issues that required urgency from the other, characteristically whimsical ones. Bureaucratic trash, he had always considered this exercise to be. How he wished he could find an honest politician to endorse to the people, if only to free him from this undesirable position. But no, not all countries can be as fortunate as Esthar for having a leader like his friend and political ally, Laguna Loire.
"Mr. President," a voice crackled from his desk intercom, "the Council is waiting for your decision, sir."
"Oh yeah" He thought to himself. It was only an hour ago when he was informed of two important developments that came the way of his office. One was the issue of the elderly woman convicted for treason for her role in the Vesta Crisis that took place a couple of months ago *. Lucresia Scaramanga, after being tried for the crime of conjuring the ancient demigoddess who nearly plunged the world into chaos, was found guilty and sentenced to death, a conviction that earlier demanded for his approval to be greenlighted by the Presidential Penal Committee. It almost gave him a headache, knowing that this was to be the first execution in the last one hundred years. And Richard Caraway wasn't exactly thrilled that his term had to be tagged with this infamous distinction.
And now, the second matter of utmost importance, as the newly created Parliamentary Council called it. Not used to agreeing with snot-faced politicians, Caraway felt a little amused for this rare event that he actually concurred with them.
"It's a go, Minister Willis. Tell them that I approve the decision of sending troops to assist the Estharian rescue efforts."
"Thank you, sir."
He was almost thankful that whatever it was wreaking havoc in the Centran countryside didn't choose Galbadia as its playground. General Caraway almost felt fearful in light of the reports he received about Esthar's inability to halt the entity's advance. What manner of creature were they dealing with here anyway, and how come the mighty Esthar army was relegated to mere crowd control? This question had been eating into him since he received the news a few hours previous, and part of the reason he agreed to send help was his desire to assess the threat posed by this new enemy.
He also knew of Headmaster Cid's action of sending in his crack team headed by no less than the SeeD commander himself. He was also aware that his daughter, Rinoa, was with this squad sent to battle the entity. And that part worried him. They hadn't checked back yet since departing to pursue their comrade who suddenly deserted him. He didn't know Quistis Trepe that well, but still General Caraway can help thinking about the motive behind her uncharacteristic behavior.
"Shadows lurking behind the scenes" He unwittingly murmured before going back to his paperwork.
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Rule number one in stealth maneuvers: you can see the enemies, but they can't see you. At least that was the ideal scenario.
And Quistis somewhat detested the verbiage. She wasn't faced against enemies in this situation. She was going against her friends. Comrades whom prophecies declared doomed once they face the dark adversary currently prowling the southern crimson continent. And though insisting in her mind that this was for their own good, she still hated it. For one thing, hitting Rinoa like that left a bitter taste in her mouth that she wanted desperately to spit out. This wasn't the kind of thing a person does to her friends.
But she knew she had no choice. She loved them like family. And they were just that. As such, she couldn't bear facing the prospect of seeing them die helplessly in the face of a threat she knew they had no chance of surmounting. It wasn't like she hasn't made a decision like this before. As a SeeD, there had been more times than she'd care to remember wherein she had to choose between the greater and the lesser evil. And this one was no different or at least that was what she wanted to believe no matter how much her heart screamed the contrary. It hurt her knowing that her beloved friends had to be pummeled by her own hands. But it was either that or face total annihilation. And again, Quistis proclaimed, it was a no-contest.
She quietly pressed herself against the wall, hiding her slender frame in the narrow shadow to keep herself from being noticed by her Galbadian colleague. As Irvine rounded the corner before him, Quistis thought momentarily. She could still exercise the strategy she used earlier against Rinoa. But Irvine wasn't exactly as naïve as the relatively inexperienced princess. Though appearing frivolous in his everyday routine, Irvine's attentiveness in the combat arena knew little peer. Quistis realized that she can't just walk up to him like she did to Rinoa. This one required a finer approach.
Her eyes alternated between her quarry and the ground before her, careful that her feet didn't land on any stone or loose gravel. Continuing her silent crouch, Quistis eventually caught up with Irvine. She was almost proud of herself, she thought. Stealth maneuvering wasn't one of the easiest things to do, and it marveled her that she can still cut it though it was seldom used in her assignments. Quistis promptly tightened the grip on her weapon as she came within a couple of yards from him.
"Huh?" Irvine suddenly echoed, which was followed by unmistakable, sniffing sounds. Quistis immediately froze, realizing that he can smell her. Irvine had always been sensitive to women's perfume.
"Quisty?"
She didn't waste any time. And before he could turn around, the instructor quickly slapped a sleeper hold around his neck. Startled, Irvine attempted to reach back and grab his assailant. But a sudden pressure exerted by Quistis' arms rendered his struggles for naught as the deft Seren Nerve Pinch technique took its prey once more. Irvine's body sagged as she gently lowered his unconscious form on the rocky earth.
"Irvy? What's happening over there?"
"Dammit!" Quistis muttered, annoyed at herself for failing to detect Selphie. She heard the rapid footsteps close in, indicating that the Trabian SeeD was only a second or two away. Without hesitation, Quistis took hold of the Exeter and forcefully flung it toward the source of the sound. Whirling noises hummed as the silver rifle spun like a propeller while hurtling speedily through the air. A loud, cracking sound subsequently echoed when the Exeter struck Selphie on the face just as she alighted from the corner. Quistis then followed with a powerful Flare attack that hurled her comrade back and smashed her against an adjacent wall.
"Three down, three to go." She mumbled dejectedly.
Zell, Seifer, and Squall.
She chooses her opponents well, Quistis thought. Or should that be foolishly?
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He was slowly realizing why she was renowned as one of the world's best when it comes to field combat. As the black-garbed figure who answered to the name Hunter approached the unconscious lass in blue, he couldn't help but admire the efficiency with which the instructor operated. He kneeled down beside Rinoa Heartilly and noted the decel cord coiled around her arms and legs, secure enough to keep her from wriggling free in case she wakes up, but not too tight as to restrict the blood flow. Hunter dabbed a finger on the red mark on her face where Quistis' fist had previously landed, admiring her lovely face in the process.
Effortlessly, he lifted her up over his shoulders. And while traversing the short distance en route to the platform where a mighty earth Guardian once stood, Hunter's mind inadvertently became flooded with a deluge of unpleasant memories pertaining to events that took place not too long ago. What brought about this recollection, he asked himself. Rinoa didn't exactly look like her. And for that matter, neither did Quistis, the one whom his heart had started yearning for in the midst of these chaotic days.
He could still hear her voice as if she had just talked to him mere seconds ago.
"I'm sorry. You'd have to forgive me, but"
But what? What brought about that sudden twist that consequently left him dangling under the remains of his broken dreams?
"I don't wish to live the coming days knowing of your burden. I don't wish to share your burden."
She didn't wish to share his burden. The words sounded like the deafening throes of a world falling apart before his very eyes. And truthfully, they might as well be. And no matter how much she insisted of her mere unwillingness to carry his load with him, he was quite painfully aware that it wasn't just that.
"Yes, I'm not going to lie to you. I'm going away with him. But for whatever it's worth, I want you to know that this isn't the main reason I'm leaving you. You and I both know it's true."
In a way, she had a point. If he had any concern for himself and the girl he once loved, he'd be the first to tell her to leave him and find herself another life. He loved her too much to see her suffer an encumbrance that wasn't hers. He couldn't bear to see her tormented face when the time comes for him to answer for his life. That was the only sensible thing to do. Tell her to forget about him, find someone else and get on with her life.
But he also would have wanted for her to wait until he took the initiative.
For the umpteenth time, Hunter labored for an answer. Which was the cause and which was the effect? Did she ponder on leaving him because of his personal tribulation and in the process found herself another man? Or did his affliction have nothing to do with her decision? He didn't know what to think, didn't know which one of the two situations would make him feel less bludgeoned. His wish for her happiness fought against that self-centered desire to know that her main reason for leaving him was anything other than another man. She had reason to, he surmised. But he just wasn't sure which one hauled more truth.
Close to a year had passed, and he was still seeking answers. But strangely enough, this time his heart wasn't as tortured. Subsequent efforts in reflecting upon his emotions revealed that the old heartache didn't carry as much sting as it did before. And yet, in truth this wasn't exactly that strange. He knew exactly why it had come to this point. He never expected it, never saw it coming until four months ago when he finally heeded the compulsion to fulfill his destiny. He discovered the existence of the instructor. And he subsequently found out that his dormant heart wasn't as inert as he thought it had become.
And now, the same gnawing question came back to him. If he yielded on his desire to pursue her, how would he handle the circumstances, carrying the same poison that once killed his dream? Why would he even consider wooing Quistis when he knew the proverbial sword of Damocles still hung over his head?
How could he tell her that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her when there wasn't much left of it?
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"Zell, over here."
He turned abruptly upon hearing the mention of his name. Zell squinted, trying to make out the figure emerging from the unlit hallway before him. A mixture of relief and concern gripped him when Quistis took form, walking toward him while favoring her left leg.
"Quisty, is that you?"
"Help me, I'm hurt."
The painted SeeD frantically ran to his comrade's aid, who then had already leaned against a decrepit wall as she clutched her left knee that appeared bleeding. Quistis bit her lips when Zell raised the hem of her skirt.
"What the" He blurted out upon noticing that the blood on her knees wasn't real. "What is this, ketchup?"
"Sorry, Zell." Quistis quipped, after which her left knee planted hard against his nose. Stunned, the surprised Zell backed away from the instructor as he clutched his bleeding nostrils.
"Quisty whuddo you thigk you're doigng?!?"
"Don't worry, you're nose isn't broken. But I do have to take you out."
"What?" Zell gurgled, thinking all of this to be a sick joke. He then realized how deadly serious Quistis was when he saw her uncoiling the Save The Queen. And though his mind was still groping for answers, he nevertheless assumed a battle stance. It had always been Zell's style to strike first and ask questions later. Even if it was against a comrade of his who had apparently turned deranged.
"I don't know what your game is, Quisty. But you should know I ain't one who'd take a beating just like that!"
"I haven't even started yet, Zell."
Quistis abruptly stopped herself. Was she being too carried away? Why in the world was she playing on Zell's aggressive behavior?
Tactical maneuvers, she later realized. Her instinct for battle had taken over and automatically began to analyze her adversary. And she heard her psyche hollering out. Exploit his weakness. Quistis had exhausted many hours trying to teach Zell to contain his emotions in battle. Nothing like a gladiator with a thinning patience to make for a really quick fight, she frequently told him. And now, she was planning just that: cloud Zell's judgment with his naturally impetuous demeanor to take away the edge from the deadliest hand-to-hand combatant in Garden.
Still, easier said than done, as proven by Zell's quickness when he suddenly lunged at her. She wasn't exactly taken by surprise, but Quistis still had to scramble to avoid the straight cut that he unleashed toward her. Chunks of granite flew off from the spot where his gloved fist made contact. He wasn't holding back, she thought. Making someone lose his patience had always been a double-edged sword, especially if that someone wielded the kind of brute strength that Zell possessed.
A mere instant elapsed after Quistis made her side step, after which she immediately retaliated with a boot in Zell's midsection. She quickly took a couple of steps back while watching him double up in pain.
"Ugh what's going on Quisty? Why're you turning against us?" He voiced out amidst labored heaves of breath.
She desperately wanted to tell him about the prophecy, about the words of an ancient soothsayer that declared their deaths in the hands of the one they were tasked to hunt down. But Quistis knew exactly how Zell would react to this. And she just didn't have the time to implore them to back down. All she could do was offer curt words of apology for the deed she was about to commit.
"I'm so sorry." She muttered before unleashing her foot towards him again.
To her surprise, strong hands suddenly jutted out and slapped a tight grip on her ankle. And before she could react, Zell twisted her leg forcefully. Quistis simultaneously rolled with the motion but in the process crashed on the ground face-first. She felt the salty taste of blood in her mouth. But better that than a dislocated knee, she thought. She was still reeling from the pain when his hands aggressively grabbed her by the arms.
"All right, instructor. Let's be nice little bondage girls and let our friends know what the hell's going on in that pretty little head of yours, shall we?"
"Not today, Zell."
Quistis suddenly threw her head back hard and hit him squarely over the eyes. Recoiling from the impact, a dazed Zell touched his eyebrows to feel blood gushing out from a seven-inch cut above his right eye. The warrior's face then assumed a spiteful scowl as his patience effectively emptied.
This was the chance she was waiting for. And as her enraged colleague charged against her with a frightful roar, Quistis swiftly rolled to the side at the same time lashing out with her bullwhip. The tough, elongated weapon whistled as it coiled itself around Zell's legs and pulled it together violently. Another mighty tug from the instructor sent Zell hurtling face-first on the ground, with the upsetting sound of a loud thud echoing to end the battle.
She stood up, limping as she made her way toward her fallen comrade. She couldn't deny the anxiety that subsequently overwhelmed her when she saw the fresh batch of the scarlet fluid seeping out from an ever bigger cut along Zell's forehead. Quistis moaned repentantly, wishing that she didn't have to be that brutal in dealing with her friends. But she also knew she didn't have much choice since the junctions they wielded provided them with augmented endurance and resistance from injuries. She had no recourse but to show extreme prejudice. Quistis tenderly touched Zell's forehead while casting just enough curative magic to make the bleeding stop.
The instructor then felt a blunt pain along her left leg; Zell must have twisted it real bad. Add to that the fact that she had grown exhausted from all this sneaking around. Quistis whimpered. She still had Seifer and Squall to deal with. Seifer and Squall, the two most feared operatives of Garden other than herself. Knowing her limits, she honestly didn't know if she could prevail over them. And at this point, she knew that if she was to overcome the odds, she had to utilize the element of surprise to the fullest. That was the only ace left tucked inside her proverbial sleeve.
"Well, well! What do we have here?"
"Oh no!" She muttered. She didn't even hear him come.
"I admit that I don't have much love for Chicken-wuss here, instructor." Seifer shot out from behind her. "But it still makes me wonder what the hell you're up to. Are you trying to give me a run for my money?"
Quistis bellowed a fatigued groan.
"So much for the element of surprise"
End of Chapter Six
* The Fourth Universe (http://members.tripod.com/DarkDimensionJM/tfu.htm)