Disclaimer: All Chrono Cross elements belong to Square. I own nothing.
Update: 2/21/05: Well, here I am again! You know, I really like this fic...I guess I just couldn't get back into the right frame of mind to finish it. Ah well...it's still lovely, in any event :D
Termina Blues
Chapter 1: Edge of Despair
by ArchFaith (formerly known as the ArchPrincess of Saturn)
"Marcy? Marcy! Where are you? I can't see a bloody thing…"
A voice cried out among the bones that littered the ground. Among the hideous demons that crept through the underbrush, looking for shelter. Among the rain that fell endlessly on this day.
The man stood there, unmoving, trying to listen for his companion. He was garbed in a long silver robe, emblazoned with red suns and green edges. A tight metal belt fastened around his waist, enclosing his tight muscles. Bluish hair, blazing red eyes and deadly axe hanging at his side, he was not a man to be reckoned with.
But for now, he was worried.
"Marcy! Marcy! Goddammit!" he cursed, stomping the damp ground with his boot. "I don't believe this…"
Dragoon Deva Karsh, son of Zappa and Zippa, serving under Lord Viper. A brutal, merciless warrior who could kill a dragon at one swipe.
Or so they said.
But he wasn't concerned with that at the moment. All he was concerned with was finding the girl whom he was named unofficial guardian. Marcy. Or Marcella, her full name. The Diva of the Dragoon Devas, as everyone called her. They had gone out that day, from Viper Manor, headed for Fossil Valley, where dead demons lay. Their purpose: to train mainly, though Marcy had brought a picnic basket along for lunch. Not that they could've sat on the ground anyway.
They should've turned back, but Marcy was persistent. "Let's go, Karsh!" she yelled, determined. "I really want to!"
Karsh uncharacteristically agreed. Little Marcy's voice reminded him of the young Lady Riddel, the days when he and Dario trained and Riddel brought them flowers…
And now…she was missing.
It had only been a moment. Only a moment that he let her out of his sight. They had been walking along the scratched-out path, Marct trotting merrily, until a strange sound was heard from behind. Karsh automatically turned, to detect the noise…it came from a bush. The plant rustled. He drew his sword…to face nothing. Whatever it had been, it was gone now.
He turned back to find no one standing there. Marcy was gone. Had she gone on purpose, to scare him? Or had something happened…?
And that left him….
"MARCY! MAAAARRRRCYYYY!" he yelled wildly, climbing the ladder that led to the lower cliff of the Valley. He scanned the area, looking all around…nothing at all. Were had she gone?
Not to worry, Karsh, the voice in his head told him. Marcy's a big girl. A Deva. She can take care of herself. She probably just hid to give you a scare…then why do I have such a sinking feeling?
"Oh," a low voice managed to whisper, with great trouble.
"Marcy!" Karsh called, his ears trying to read the location of her voice. He ran to the edge of the cliff and peered down, onto the nest of a gigantic bird. Lying just outside the rough, feathered nest, lay a young girl, considerably injured. Her blond hair, usually tied in two buns on the side of her face, was now free and swishing about her eyes, her purple bun covers blown away to the wind. Her chest plate of armor and her shield, seen on her personage so often, had been ripped away from her and lay in a heap to the far end of the ledge. Her pink dress was torn through, blood littering the fabrics and petticoats that made it puff out so….her sea blue eyes, filled with pain, looked up. "Karsh," her voice said, the single word being excruciating to her.
"Marcy! What happened!" Karsh wasted no time in jumping down to the ledge. He raised the little girl up. "What happened?" he repeated.
"A big bird," Marcy's panting voice whispered, gasping for breath. "I ran away to hide, when you were looking….at that bush….and I climbed up to the cliff….suddenly a big bird came and knocked me down here…and it scratched me and bit me…"
"RAW!" a thunderous voice roared. Karsh looked up to see the bird which she had talked about, its wings pushing it down upon them, zooming as if to devour them…
"AHHHH!" Karsh screamed, quickly standing, letting his axe slip out of his hands, letting it fly into the air. The axe hit the bird's wing with a sickening crunch; the bird shrieked and flew off, the axe falling back to the earth below. The bird wasn't badly hurt; it's wing would be sore for a few days, but that was it.
Karsh turned back to Marcy, sitting up on the ground, moaning in agony. "There, there, lass," he told her, taking her in his arms, "you're fine now. I have you. I'll heal you…"
A blue light surrounded Marcy's bleeding form. Karsh's Heal spell. It always worked. Always.
Almost always…
"Karsh," Marcy groaned. Her bleeding hadn't stopped. The bruises and scratches on her body were deep; she might die if he were not treated right away. He hastily tore off a large strip of silver fabric from his robe and wrapped it around Marcy's head, where the bleeding was worst.
Karsh picked her up and carried her, her head lying on his shoulder, her legs banging limply against his arms. He climbed back up to the cliff, then down again to the dirt path. As quickly as he could, he raced out of Fossil Valley, being careful to avoid any demons that stood in his way. He couldn't afford to fight now.
The rain drizzled lightly on them as he carried her to the edge of the forest. Here he stopped, comtemplating. If I head back to the Manor, it'll be too late; she's lost enough blood as it is. And Luccia isn't there right now. She's in Porre, visiting her brother…Termina. I have to go there. Marcy can get properly treated there…
He quickly resumed his walk-run-walk pace, being careful not to cause more bleeding in his partner. Termina wasn't that far away; no, not far at all. Not if he kept this pace.
But the rain was something he wasn't counting on.
Thirty minutes later, he trudged into the entrance to the port town of Termina, home of the Acacia Dragoons. Normally the whitewashed buildings were bustling with people. Even on a rainy day such as this, it should've been. But not today.
Karsh incredulously looked around. Everyone was gone. The city had been deserted. No one was around. But where had they gone?
The old flower lady came out from behind her stall, holding a big bouquet of black roses, edged in red. "Madam!" Karsh called, rushing to her. "Where is everybody?"
Either the old lady did not notice Marcy or she was just too eager to comment about her. "Don't you know, young man? Nikki and the Magical Dreamers are playing tonight! Everyone's gone to the concert!"
"Tell me, has the doctor gone as well?"
"Of course she went! Everyone went. Not a soul is left in town tonight! Well, I thought I saw the blacksmith around his house, but—"
Karsh hurtled up the stairs, not waiting to hear the old woman. Up two flights, then turn to the right….he remembered this path. Running home with Dario, when they were boys. Laughing and shouting as they ran to the smithy, were Zippa would have a plate of cookies for them…
How different things were now.
Karsh banged into the door to the smithy, nearly breaking the door off its hinges. Zippa sat at the counter, holding a needle and thread; she was embroidering, expecting no one to request armor on account of the concert. She looked up, and promptly dropped her tools.
"Karsh! Oh goodness gracious, what's happened to the little lass?"
Zappa, sitting in the back of the shop, had been hammering some breastplates when he looked up. The heavy built man donned blue leather overalls, bronze armor finishing his already rough look. His brown eyes widened as he saw the sight of his son in the doorway. He briskly crossed the room to behold the bleeding child in Karsh's arms. "Karsh! What happened to 'er?" he demanded in his thick Scottish accent.
"We were in Fossil Valley. She was attacked," Karsh answered simply. "She's bleeding bad, Ma, Da. Please…help her."
"Get 'er into yer room, Karsh!" Zippa commanded, opening the door. Karsh walked in, ready to place Marcy in bed.
A young man lay on the bed, luxuriously nibbling at a bunch of grapes which he dangled in front of his mouth. He wore purple leggings under a blue velvet tunic. Gold plated steel armor covered his chest and arms. His cropped blond hair was topped by an indigo satin hat, crowned with a large multicolored feather. A red sash tied around his waist, completing his outrageous look.
He looked up, his eyes half-open, speaking in his fake French accent. "What iz ze meaning of zis? Moi is trying to get some rest—"
"Shut up, you fruitcake!" Karsh roared. "Get outta my bed! I've got an injured kid here!"
Pierre, suddenly noticing Marcy, quickly retreated out of his rented bed. Karsh lay Marcy down on the bed. She opened her eyes to look at him. "Am I gonna die?"
"No, no, Marcy," Karsh answered. "You'll be just fine. We'll find a doctor for you."
Zippa shooed everyone out of the room while she undressed Marcy. Karsh, Pierre, and Zappa fled to the front room, waiting impatiently.
Pierre was quite angry to be kicked out of his room. "Monsieur Karsh, couldn't you 'ave found a better place to put ze girl?" he asked irritably. "Moi was resting up for ze next mission with ze Dragoons…"
Karsh gave Pierre the sharpest look he had ever given. It was enough that this fake guy was living in his room, and now he was even so conceited as to complain about a sick girl being placed there.
Zappa chose to stay quiet, knowing that comments would not help nor improve the situation.
Presently Zippa emerged, holding Marcy's tattered pink dress in her arms. "She's awful bad," she told them. "We need ta get 'er te a doctor right away."
"But everyone's gone te the concert," Zappa replied. "We'll 'ave a hard time finding one in the crowd…"
Karsh lowered his eyes. What where they to do now? "I'll go to the concert and find somebody who can treat her," he suggested.
"Karsh…the lass was askin' fer ye. I do nae think ye should leave 'er," Zippa said. Karsh sighed. No, he couldn't leave Marcy. She needed him to be by her side.
"Alright, zo ze little girl is going to kick ze bucket. Can we place her outside zo moi can have his room back now?"
Karsh seized Pierre by his velvet collar. Pulling his face close, he whispered harshly into his ear, "Listen you, you cowardly little bastard. My girl is sick. You go to that concert and find someone who can heal her. And if ya don't, I'll kick your ass all the way to the Isle of the Damned. Got it!"
"Oui," Pierre whimpered, too scared to refuse. He hastily opened the closet door to find an umbrella, before turning to the door.
"And if ya can get a hold of Nikki, tell him too," Karsh instructed. Pierre nodded and swept out the door, into the light drizzle.
Karsh looked after him, his eyes weary. He turned and entered the room where Marcy lay, now donning a white nightgown, her gold hair lying limply behind her. Kneeling down next to her, he took her small hand in his. She looked up at him, his eyes scared. "Will I die…?"
"No, you won't die. We're gonna find help right now." Karsh pulled the blanket over her, tucking it up to her chin. "Hush now."
Marcy quieted and shut her eyes. Karsh lay his silvery locks down next to Marcy's, murmuring a silent prayer.
-
Pierre, opening his umbrella, scrambled down the cemented walkway, down to the harbor, where the Magical Dreamers were playing. The citizens of Termina gathered around the entrance to the boat which carried Nikki and his entourage. All the girls of Termina had dressed Dreamer-style, with skimpy transparent material and thigh length boots. The guys had dutifully put on as much make-up they could find in their sisters' closets, looking tackily glam. Everyone had turned out, regardless of the horrible weather conditions.
Pierre rushed the bunch of obsessed fans and looked around. Is he crazy? he thought to himself, abandoning the French accent. How can I find a doctor in this mess? He helplessly walked about, trying to identify some citizens of Termina. But they were all too dressed up; no one was recognizable.
Pierre found himself pushed towards the entrance of the ship, where a thin metal chain kept the fans from getting into the ship and up into Nikki's room. Hmm…interesting. The bodyguards who were supposed to be watching the crowd where chatting up some girls instead. Who would notice if a handsome young man crept into Nikki's dressing room? Karsh had told him to, anyway. Maybe he could get an autograph…
Pierre casually crept under the metal chain and slithered up the stairs stealthily. He may be a coward, but at least he had style. The guards who where usually standing outside the Dreamers' dressing room were not at their posts. Miki, Nikki's dynamite dancer, had shooed them away earlier, believing it affected the ambience of their concert. All the better for Pierre. He barged in, wondering what he would find inside.
TBC