"Bret!" Geral yelled down the shaft. Carefully, he peered down the dark hole, trying to discern its depth. At that moment, Nadiana returned, and immediately she was at the hole beside him. She put her ear to the shaft, and patted Geral on the back.
"Fear not," she said. "I can hear your brother's big mouth cursing. He's alive."
Quistis breathed a sigh of relief. "How far down is he, do you think?"
"It's hard to tell. If the shaft curves, the sound could be distorted."
"I'm goin' down after him," Geral said, grabbing for the coils of rope on his pack.
"Are you sure that's wise?" Quistis asked. "We don't know how far down he is. The rope might not be long enough, and if you slipped, then you'd both be stuck down there."
"Than what do we do? I'm not leavin' me brother down there."
"No, of course not." Quistis touched the platinum pendant that hung against her skin, considering her options. "I will go down. If the rope fails, I have other methods open to me of getting us back up the shaft."
They secured the rope on one of the support beams that remained before Quistis slid gingerly into the hole. She began to climb down the rope slowly, glancing around in the dancing light of the flashlight she had secured to her belt. She noticed the walls of the chute seemed very smooth, cut so precisely it must have been man made. She had climbed down a good fourty feet when her hands slipped.
Fortunately, the ground wasn't far. She found herself tumbling out of the chute and over a pile of rubble before rolling to a stop. She stood up, dusted herself off, and looked around. She was in a round room, half of which had collapsed. To her left, there was an oval shaped doorway, where she saw another light flickering.
"Bret?" she called, carefully picking her way to the doorway.
"Ms. Trepe?" his voice echoed back to her. "Come here, quick!"
Thinking the man might be injured or in trouble, Quistis ran quickly out of the room and nearly smacked into Bret, who was standing against the railing of the balcony, staring out at the view. Quistis stopped, her breath stolen, as her eyes fell on the incredible sight.
The tunnel opened up into a vast cavern, the ceiling of which was so high it was lost in the darkness. To their left, a set of stone steps curved gently down to the floor of the cavern, some fifty feet below. There, stone paths meandered among sculptures, benches, and raised patches of bare dirt where perhaps gardens might have once grown. Scattered about were tall, majestic fountains, their elegant spires reaching upwards like delicate fingers. Water had long since ceased flowing through them, but dark pools that shone like glass remained at their bases. At irregular intervals the paths would stretch out to the cavern wall, where arched doorways led to corridors running away from the dazzling cavern. Swirling, intricate knotwork designs covered every visible surface, carved with a precision and balance that defied all possibility of being the work of mortal hands. A strange, luminous yellow moss grew everywhere, casting a golden glow upon the scene and giving it a surreal look.
Any moment, Quistis expected to hear angelic choruses, to see beams of light streaming down from the sky. Instead, it was deathly silent, the quiet making her breathing sound like thunder in her ears. She didn't have to look at Bret to know he was equally entranced.
She stopped for a moment to look up at the stone archway she was passing under. Through the think vines, heavily laden with vibrant rose blooms, she could see the stone of the archway, carved in intricate, swirling arcs and intertwining angles. It was almost as if they had been meant to hold the vines that now grew over everything.
"This place is very old…"
She looked past the archway, to the moss covered path beyond. She could see him, standing there, not looking at her, but feeling her presence with every fiber, every nerve. She knew this intimately, for she felt it as well.
"I know you."
He began to walk away from her, towards another archway.
"But will you remember me?" She heard a sad note in his melodic voice. "When you stand in the heart of the city, will you think of us?"
"Us?" She could feel his sorrow as if it were a tangible thing, flowing around her, through her, springing warm tears to her eyes. They sparkled in the corners, diamonds against sapphires, before sliding silently down her cheeks.
"Who are you?" She could barely keep from sobbing. "I need to know!"
He turned, suddenly, his eyes stripping her soul bare. "Do you? Do you think you are ready to face the trials ahead? Are you strong enough? Will you survive the storm? When the wind whips the sand into your eyes, knocks you from your feet, drives the rain against your skin; when the lightning strikes overhead and the thunder is pounding in your ears, will you be strong enough?"
Quistis gripped the balcony's stone railing, her knees weak as the vision faded and she again realized the sight of the cavern below them. She glanced at the awestruck man beside her, but he seemed to not have noticed anything was amiss.
What is going on here?
Their reverie was shattered by the sound of rocks scittering across the floor behind them.
"Bret!" Geral appeared, too happy to see his brother alive to notice the cavern immediately. Nadiana came shortly behind him.
"We feared what had befallen you, and Geral insisted on following," the pale woman explained.
How long did we stand and stare? Quistis wondered. How long did that dream—vision? memory?—last? A minute? An hour? It is so unreal… She looked back out at the cavern. Nadiana followed her gaze, and Quistis heard her voice catch in her throat as she took in the sight.
"This is incredible," Geral whispered softly after several long minutes had passed.
"Yes…" Quistis agreed. She walked slowly towards the steps.
"Where are you going?"
She looked back at the trio, an impish grin curving her lips. "C'mon. We're supposed to be searching, right? Let's go take a look."
"It was the middle o' the afternoon. I was takin' out the garbage fer Mr. Ritten, when a dark cloud crossed the sun. I looked up, an' there they came. They had red skin, the color o' blood, an' their faces looked less human an' more...demon. They carried black sword that shook an' flickered like flame, an' they rode black monsters, lookin' like possessed, twisted horses, with flames comin' out o' their mouths and sparks a flyin' from their hooves."
The man began to weep, sobbing as he choked out his tale. "They killed everybody, everythin'. Hyne, help us…they'll come back…they'll come back fer me…Hyne, please…"
Squall could hardly repress a shudder as he went over the survivor's words in his mind. There had been a wild look in the man's eyes, the look of one who had stared into the heart of hell and had not been granted the peace of death.
Squall had hoped to question the man, but the attending medic had ordered them all out of the tent, glaring at him and telling them if they wanted to talk more, they would just have to wait. Truly, even the professional, methodical commander had no desire to force the man to live through his experience again, just for the sake of their investigation. The sound of the poor man's screaming in his sleep was enough to spur him to find other means to investigate.
They had returned to the Ragnarok, to rest and consider their options. Selphie sat in the cockpit, staring out the window at the ravaged village. Zell fidgeted in one of the passenger seats, waiting impatiently while Squall leaned back in his chair, going over what they knew in his mind. Finally, Selphie turned back to him, hope and fear clouding her sparkling eyes.
"Squall?"
"Hmm."
"You know, one of the Guardians might know something…if one of us summoned them."
Squall sat up. "That's true…if we can convince one of them to talk to us."
"Shiva's always willing to talk," Zell said quietly. Indeed, often the Ice Queen seemed almost lonely, thirsty for human interaction.
"Call her, then," Squall commanded.
Zell quieted his mind and closed his eyes, softly whispering the words that would call the beautiful Shiva to them. A few moments—not many, for Shiva was always quick, anxious even, to answer his calling—and the room grew cold. Tiny motes of dancing blue light began to swirl around them as the shafts of ice burst skyward from the floor of the Ragnarok. The ice shattered, and a delicate, elven woman stood before them, her hands outstretched as she called the little motes of light to her. Her skin was a shade of the palest blue, dark in all the right places. Long golden hair streamed behind her, dancing softly behind her delicate shoulders as she looked around. Her cold blue eyes fell on Zell, and a faint smile warmed her face, as warm as the Ice Queen ever could be.
"Zell," she said softly. "I see no battle. What is it you wish of me?" There was the faintest hint of hope in her unearthly voice as it wrapped around them. Her mouth moved, and sound came from her dark blue lips, but it was overlapped by the same voice echoing inside their minds.
"Shiva," Zell cleared his throat. "This village that we are in…they were attacked last night. Only one man survived."
"We go to battle the attackers?"
"We hope so…" Zell glanced at Squall.
"There was one survivor," Squall stood, taking the initiative. "He told us the attackers were demons, with red skin and carrying swords made of fire. The fire didn't seem to be hot, though, from the damage they left behind. We were hoping you might know something."
"Hmm…The realm of flame is not one well known to me," she chuckled. "Ice and fire do not mix well. Perhaps…" she sighed, "you should ask Ifrit."
"Yeah," Selphie piped in, "but Ifrit's not much of a talker."
"Diablos?"
Squall shuddered. "I'd rather not summon him with nothing nearbye for him to kill."
Shiva laughed, a musical sound like the tinkling of a thousand crystal bells. "I see your point. I can, perhaps, ask around and see what I might learn. Summon me again in one day, and I will get what answers I may. Until then, my Zell," she whispered before fading away.
Selphie glanced at Zell, a little smirk playing on her face. "'My Zell'? I think she's sweet on you!"
"Don't be silly," Zell mumbled. "C'mon, she's a…she's a…well, I'm not sure what she is, besides a Guardian. She's just protective, that's all. She takes being a Guardian seriously."
"Sounds like you know an awful lot about her," Selphie giggled.
"Besides, she's made of ice!"
"Is she?" Squall spoke up. "Do you know this personally, Zell?"
Selphie gaped at their brown haired commander while Zell blushed. "My Hyne, Squall Leonhart, are you participating in a conversation?"
Squall shrugged. "Maybe…"
Selphie giggled again. "I see. Squall Leonhart, Commander, new edition! Upgrade from 'whatever' to 'maybe' while it's hot!" She gave a squelched "oof!" as she was tackled. Her shouts of protest quickly turned to squeal of hysterical laughter as Zell took advantage of Squall's distraction and started tickling her.
"Oh! Stop it! Haha! Stop! I'm gonna tell Irvy on you!!!!"
"Oh," Squall replied dryly, standing up and standing back. "I'm scared."
Zell stopped tickling Selphie, and they both looked up at him, curiosity gleaming in their eyes. "What's gotten into you, Squall."
He shrugged. "Nothing. Better get some sleep. We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow." He walked out the sliding doors and down the hallway.
Nothing…
That's what you'll end up with in the end...
It felt as if they had walked the long, meandering corridors for hours, although Quistis knew it had only been a few minutes. There was a hushed feeling in the place, and everything was covered with a fine layer of dust.
"This place is very old," Nadiana said reverently. "I doubt the anyone in Starvale knows this is here."
"Or anyone else, for that matter," Geral added. He looked at Quistis. "Or does Garden know anything about this place?"
"No. There's nothing in any history book I've ever read about a people with this sort of style in their architecture. I've never seen artistry like this. The design, the style…it's beautiful."
They came to one of the corridors, it's high archway covered in carvings, with strands of the luminous moss hanging down. On the floor, beneath the dirt of ages, Quistis could see a carving set in an otherwise smooth circle. She kicked at the dirt a bit, to reveal the carving.
"A book," she said in wonderment. She shine the flashlight down the corridor. It wasn't very long, and at the end of it she could make out a set of large, double doors. She gestured at the others to follow her as she made her way down the hall. She passed between towering statues, the first carvings that were something other than geometric designs. They appeared to be slender men dressed in long flowing robes, holding in their hands open tomes. They reached the doors, mammoth things carved of green agate, it's color dulled by the layers of dirt and dust. Quistis reached out towards the door handles.
"Stop," Nadiana stepped in front of her. "We do not know what the owners may have put on these doors to prevent their opening. Let me check them first."
Quistis paused, then nodded her agreement. Nadiana began running her fingers light along the doorway, checking all the cracks with touch and sight. She tapped on the surface, laying her delicate ear against the stone. After a few minutes, she looked back at Quistis and nodded. The blonde SeeD took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, and pulled.
Nothing happened.
Quistis chuckled shakily. "It's locked."
Nadiana took a look at the handle. "No….I don't think it's locked. I think it's just old."
"Here, let me try," Geral said, grasping the handle and giving a mighty pull. At first, nothing happened, but after a few moments, they heard the door began to creak, and slowly it swung open. Quickly, Quistis stepped over the threshold, Bret following a step behind her with the lantern.
There was no moss in this room, and Bret had to lift the lantern high before they could see anything. When they did, Quistis gave a gleeful gasp. In the center of the room were tables and chairs, covered with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The walls were covered in shelves that went all the way up to the ceiling several stories above them, and they were filled with books.
"Wow," Bret said softly. "Would you look at that."
"A library," Quistis said, walking over to the shelves. She pulled one of the tomes from the shelf, and nearly choked from the cloud of dust that was sent swirling into the air. Blinking away tears, she flipped open the book.
"I can't read this," she gave a disappointed sigh, leafing through the pages. They were adorned in intricate, precise symbols that swam before her irritated eyes. Something seemed familiar about them, though…
"Hey," Nadiana called from the other side of the room, "I can read this!"
They gathered around her and looked over her shoulder at the crumbling book she held in her hands.
"'New Common to Ashinoav,'" Quistis read from the front page. "It's a language book! It probably translates everything!"
"Well, not everything," Nadiana noted, turning a page. Time had destroyed large parts of many of the pages, and it looked from the binder to be missing an entire section in the back.
"No matter," Quistis said, "It's something to work with." Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, reminding her that lunch was some time ago. She looked down at the water clock.
"I hate to say this," she sighed, "but we had better get going. It's getting late."
The others agreed quietly. Nadiana took her cloak and carefully wrapped the book before handing it to Quistis. "Should we tell anyone about this place?"
Quistis pondered the question for a few minutes. She didn't know if this place had anything to do with the Finder's Way…But just the thought of all the greedy treasure hunters and "well-meaning" archeologists that would swarm the place as soon as word got out made her shudder. "No," she decided. "Not for now, anyway. Not until we know more. We don't want all kinds of people running down here, being nosy, and getting themselves hurt. So we speak of this to no one." She looked sternly at her team. The brothers exchanged a quick glance, and just when she was starting to worry, they both grinned at her at the same time.
"Don't worry, Ms. Trepe," Geral spoke. "We're getting' paid well enough!"