Quistis stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the silvery moonlight dance across its surface. She sighed and rolled over, looking at the digital clock that sat next to the phone. Biting her lip, she finally decided. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for the phone.
She continued to chew on her lip as she listened to the ringing, waiting for someone to pick up. Even though it was very late—one thirty a.m. according to the glaring red digits on the clock—on the other side of the world in Balamb it would be just before supper time. At the very least, she could leave him a message.
"Hello?" a light, cheerful woman's voice finally answered.
"R-Rinoa?"
"Oh, hey Quisty," the dark haired beauty replied happily. "How is everything going?"
"Fine…Is Squall there?"
"No, I'm sorry. He, Zell, and Selphie are out in the field."
"He's in the field?"
Rinoa giggled. "Yeah, isn't it great? He was getting so antsy, sitting around here! I think he was jealous of you. After you left, he spent, like, every day in the practice gym working out when he wasn't doing paperwork or with me."
"Oh?" Quistis was surprised to hear that. Because of me? she wondered silently. Maybe because of what I said? Was he really listening to me? "Well, if you hear from him, just let him know I called. I was just checking up with you guys, making sure the world's still safe."
Clear laughter rang out on the other end of the phone. "Sure, I'll tell him. Got a number? Oh, wait," she laughed again, "its right here on the ID."
"Well, I'll talk to you later, Rin."
"Sure, Quisty. Bye-bye."
Gently hanging the phone up, Quistis looked around the room. I'm never going to get any sleep. Her eyes fell on her pack, still sitting by the door where she had dumped it earlier. I guess I could get some work done.
She got up out of bed and pulled on a silky purple robe before picking the bag up off the floor. She started to set it on the bed, but one look at all the trail dirt covering it made her think better of that. Instead, she sat it on the floor next to the bed, leaned down and dug in, pulling out the precious item still wrapped in Nadiana's cloak. She ran her fingers reverently over the writing on the cover. This book could be hundreds of years old, she thought. Maybe a thousand. She opened the book and began flipping carefully through the pages. The beginning gave a brief discussion about the rising popularity of a common language being used among the humans, and that this book was intended so that the people could continue to trade with outsiders, by teaching humans the language of Ashino.
Quistis blinked. The "humans"?
The stablemaster sat leaned back in his chair with his feet propped up on a barrel, listening to the whisper of the wind. The stable was quiet inside, with just the steady, rhythmic breathing of the animals. He didn't look up as the creak of the house door broke the quiet and the young stable hand stepped in.
"Geesh," the sandy-haired lad said as he brushed a golden leaf from his cloak. "It's gettin' awful foggy out there."
"Mmm," the stablemaster acknowledged the boy. "Did ya enjoy yerself, boy?"
The boy blinked. "What do you mean?"
The stablemaster gave him a lewd wink. "I saw ye dancin' wi' young Josie in there. Do ye know what time it is?"
A faint blush stained the boy's cheeks. "No," he admitted.
"It's past one, and past my bedtime. The bitch'll be havin' her pups any day now, an' ye know how Lord Gefrey is about his dogs."
The boy sighed. "I know, I know. Stayin' up all forsaken night until she has 'em."
"That's right." The stablemaster stood and stretched, gathering his book, reading glasses, and his flask. He was just reaching for his cloak when there was a thump on the roof.
"Eh?" he inquired to the air, looking up. "What was that?"
Gefrey stood quietly at the window, looking out over the darkened garden, the silver moonlight turning the carefully manicured bushes and trees, flowers and paths into a strange maze of shadows. The wind was picking up, he noted, watching the branches toss to and fro, sending swirls of dying leaves dancing away. A fog was rolling in from the north, obscuring anything beyond the garden.
The ball had gone well, as always. He spent much time looking forward to opening his home to all the people in this quaint village, people he had known his whole life and were as much family to him as the beautiful woman slumbering behind him. Downstairs, he knew there were servants still up, clearing away the dishes and cleaning the ball room. He debated going downstairs and ordering them all to bed, but he knew they would just smile at him and shoo him away.
I am a very lucky man. He heard his wife stir behind him.
"Gefrey?" she asked softly, her voice heavy with sleep. "Come to bed."
"In a few minutes, dear," he replied, staring out at the garden. He felt an uneasy fluttering in the pit of his stomach, and he knew that even when he went to her in their warm bed, he'd find no rest tonight.
With a resigned sigh, he turned away from the window, laying his robe on the bench at the foot of the bed before sliding under the covers to join his wife.
He didn't see the shadows move, flitting across the garden towards the house.
She continued to read on, into the text, where it began to give translations for the many intricate symbols that apparently made up the Ashinoav language. At first she was flipping casually, when she spotted one symbol that she knew she recognized.
"Wait," she whispered softly to herself, her eyes growing wide. "I know where I've seen this before!" She reached back into the pack and pulled out old Lord Vanderstyll's journal. Excitedly she flipped it open and thumbed to the page with the symbol she had recognized.
"Angel!" she exclaimed to the darkness of the room. "This means angel!" She had figured it out; Vanderstyll's journal was written entirely in this strange, foreign language!
The strange thump on the roof was followed by the sudden whinny of one of the horses. Soon all the animals were awake, pawing the ground nervously.
"Shhhh," the stable hand murmured to the horse nearest him, a chocolate brown mare. He rubbed her between the eyes and carefully stroked her flank, while the stablemaster reached for his cloak and his old shotgun.
"I'm gonna go see what that was," the stablemaster told him, heading towards the door.
Quistis was beginning to go through the two books, trying to find other matches. It would be tedious work, she knew, but this was just the sort of challenge she loved to overcome. Before she got very far, however, she felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her warrior instincts crying out to her. She froze for a moment, and then, as casually as she could, put the two books back in her pack, at the same time closing her hand around the reassuring feel of Save the Queen.
She pulled the whip completely from the bag and straightened up, just as the glass in the windows shattered.
The boy had been right; there was a thick fog blanketing everything. From where he was standing, the stablemaster could not even see the manor house. He walked around the corner of the stable, looking for the ladder that would lead up to the roof. He thought he heard a muffled thud again, but in the fog he couldn't be sure of where it came from.
He jerked to the right as a dark shape solidified out of the fog, hurtling just past him. He leveled the shotgun to take aim, but realized the figure was too close as it leaned in and struck, a black gloved hand connecting solidly with his jaw. Changing tactics, the stablemaster swung the shotgun around like a club, and gave a satisfied grunt as he felt it connect solidly. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as more dark shapes began appearing. His last thought was of the dog lying in the stable.
Hyne knows, her damned pups'll come tonight…
Gefrey sat straight up in bed, the sound of shattering glass echoing clearly in the room. He looked around, but his own room seemed quiet.
"Elana," he shook her shoulder.
"Mmm?" she mumbled, blinking at him.
"Get dressed, fast," he whispered harshly. "Someone has broken in."
Several more sounds of breaking windows reverberated in the room, gripping Gefrey's stomach with iron hands. Elana's eyes widened, and she was already reaching for her robe.
"Sounds like several someones," she replied grimly, fully awake now. She slipped her feet in her warm slippers and ran to the closet, rummaging around on the top shelf. Gefrey dressed hurriedly in his riding leathers, as she returned from the closet. She held a small handgun, which she kept for herself, and his sword. He slid it reverently out of its scabbard, taking a brief moment to admire its workmanship. It had been passed to him by his father, who had traveled the world extensively before settling down. Gefrey remembered the many stories his father had told him and his brothers as they sat around him in a wide-eyed circle. Now, it seemed, the time had come for the gleaming silvery sword to shed blood once again.
It might not come to that, Gefrey told himself as he headed for the door, motioning for Elana to stay behind him. In his heart, however, he knew better.
Two figures stood in her room, surrounded by shards of broken glass. They had hesitated after leaping in, staring at her, as if formulating their plan of attack before moving. Quistis wasn't going to give them the chance, and their hesitation gave her a needed opening that she pounced on.
The whip cracked loudly in the man on the left's ears, and as he brought his hands up to shield his face, she took the opening, wrapping the end of Save the Queen around the pistol still holstered at his side. With a yank she had it out of his belt and in her hand.
The man on the right reached down to his boot and flicked his hand, sending the small dagger flying for her throat. Quistis proved the faster, snapping the deadly projectile right out of the air. She started whispering the quiet words of magic, feeling the fire burning in her chest. She tapped that fire with practiced ease, and watched satisfactorily as electricity arced through one of her opponents.
The other attacker made a desperate lunge, catching her in the moment of distraction brought by the casting of a spell. He tackled her with a solid thud, bringing them both to the ground. In their struggle, he managed to get angled around to connect his fist solidly with her gut.
As she was gasping for air, she noticed the other figure had ceased involvement in the combat, and was rifling through her things in the armoire. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her pack—containing the two precious tomes—laying on the floor on the other side of the bed.
The platinum pendant hanging against her skin was growing warm. With a small, evil smile she began to chant again, this time twisting the words of magic into words of calling. She grimly accepted the man's blows, and soon she could no longer feel them as hazy silver light began to envelop her. A satisfied grin spread across her face when she saw her attacker lean back away from her a little, looking above her head, knowing what he saw there as the silver light began to take shape.
Out of the rolling clouds of light, great platinum wings stretched out, filling the room with leathery might. A roar reverberated off the stones, as Bahamut, the platinum dragon, rushed to aid his caller. His silver scales seemed to shimmer in the light, and deep blue eyes, far too intense to belong to any mortal being, narrowed as he surveyed the situation. Quistis was chanting again, focusing all her energy on Bahamut's enveloping presence, lending her strength to augment his.
Gathering his might, Bahamut drew in a great breath, and the attacker knew his end was at hand. The mighty blast knocked the unfortunate man off his feet, and double thuds rang in Quistis's ears as both men, caught in the power of the dragon, literally bounced off the opposite walls.
"It has been many days, young one," Bahamut's powerful voice echoed in her mind, sending a strange sensation up and down her limbs.
"It has been many days since I needed you," Quistis replied, standing up and brushing herself off.
Draconic laughter rolled over her like thunder. "Come now, child, I am more than just combative might. We are similar, you and I."
She cocked her head, considering the immortal being resting easily before her. From the moment they had fought the great dragon in the depths of the deep sea research center, Quistis had felt kindred with Bahamut. Their spirits were similar, forged of the same pure silver fire. Indeed, nothing made her feel quite as alive as that brief moment when their souls would touch in battle, when she almost dreamed she had become Bahamut, raining her powerful justice down on her enemies.
The sounds of people shouting and more glass breaking brought Quistis's attention back to the present. "I fear I will be needing you much this night," she said to the dragon as she grabbed her pack up off the floor and slung it onto her back.
"Simply call, dear Quistis," Bahamut's voice drifted to her as he began to fade away. "I am always waiting…"
Gefrey and Elana reached the balcony above the great hall without incident. They looked down, to see servants fleeing and men wearing dark clothing running about. Silently Gefrey gestured for Elana to follow him, as they crossed the southern edge of the hall. Gefrey turned to walk down the stairs, and was met with one of the dark-clad figures.
The man leapt up at Gefrey, knocking him backwards towards the balcony railing. In a second, he was on top of the young lord, raising the knife he held in his hand to bring it down.
Gefrey watched in macabre amusement as the man's expression froze and he slowly fell over. A single clean bullet hole in the side of his head gave the only indication of the cause of his death. He glanced thankfully over at his quiet wife, who was calmly lowering the gun.
"I love you, Elana," he said, smiling as he picked himself up off the floor.
She smiled back at him. "I know."
Quistis stepped out of her room, looking up and down the hallway. She could hear shouts from the floor below, and three dark clad figures were advancing down the hallway. One gave a shout as he spotted her, and the other two leveled pistols at her.
She dodged the first easily, but the second clipped her shoulder, knocking her backwards. She bit down on her lip to ignore the pain, and snapped Save the Queen around the first one's neck. She heard a sickening crack as his neck broke. She snapped the whip a few more times, trying to keep them on their toes as she began to mentally search her repertoire of spells.
Not many, I'm afraid, she thought grimly. Finally calling on the element of fire, she held her hand out towards the figure on the right. As her chanting drew to its frantic conclusion, flames burst forth from her fingers, wrapping themselves around him.
Apparently not caring about the imminent demise of his companion, the other drew a set of nunchaku and began advancing. He launched a series of attacks aimed at her head. She dodged as best she could, but stars exploded in her vision as one of the blows connected with her temple.
She stumbled backwards a bit, feeling the pendant with her free hand. But instead of calling Bahamut, she felt something else stir within her. Through the pain, she forced herself to focus on the cold blue light in her breast. A tear of pain leaked out of her eyes and slid down her cheek as she fell to one knee.
Thinking he had the best of her, the man put his nunchaku away and drew his gun again. He had lowered it to her head, preparing to pull the trigger, when she looked up at him, a dangerous red gleam in her eyes.
She smiled.
Fire burst forth, blinding him, burning his face away. He tried to scream, only to find there was no breath left in him, the horrible fire burning away all the oxygen in his lungs, searing his insides.
Then Save the Queen silenced that pain forever.
Gefrey and Elana reached the bottom of the stairs and slowed, not wanting to rush into the great hall. Gingerly he opened the door, trying to get an assessment of the situation before they went in. After a few sweeping glances, he saw the hall was empty.
The servants probably ran out the back entrance. I hope they're all safe. He didn't see any sign of where the intruders had gone. He turned to his wife.
"Go to the stables," he said, "get on Sabre and ride for town. Get the police, and hurry back. And be careful." He gave the petite woman a quick kiss before turning away.
"I always am," she replied with a small smile, and headed out towards the kitchens, for the covered walkway that would take her to the stables.
Gefrey headed in the opposite direction, down the hallway that led to the library, his study, Elana's sewing room, and the treasury. As he reached the corner, he looked up and down, surveying the damage. A door was opened further down the hallway, light streaming from it, and he could hear the sounds of furniture being overturned and men cursing.
"They're in the study!" Gefrey gasped out. The study? Why not the treasury? Gefrey had no time to consider the whys as he stormed towards the room.
"Lord Gefrey," a voice gasped out behind him. "Wait…you'll need me. There are too many in there."
He turned to see his young blonde house guest running towards him. She looked rough, with bruises marring her pretty face, and a horribly bloody wound in her shoulder. Her breathing was labored, and she looked as if she might fall over any minute.
"Hyne, Ms. Trepe! What happened to you?"
"Unwelcome guests," she replied grimly. "Get behind me, sir. I'm going to make this short."
Steeling himself, he followed the SeeD as she strode as boldly as her injuries would allow into the study. She had already begun to chant, calling for Bahamut, but stopped short as she entered the room.
The glass in the windows had been broken out, letting the chilly autumn wind in to blow the loose papers that had been spilled to the floor. Books had been pulled from the shelves, and the painting of Lord Gefrey's grandfather had been pulled from the wall and tossed unceremoniously onto one of the chairs. Every drawer in the desk was left hanging open—including the secret one.
The room was empty.
"Damn," Quistis swore. "They got away."
"What were they after?" Gefrey asked before he stepped around her and saw the desk. "The notes!" He rushed over, rifling through the scattered papers. He looked up at Quistis, an incredulous look of disbelief on his face. "My grandfather's notes are gone!"