Chapter 10
"You little scoundrel…!" the priest facing Gau's wrath hissed.
Then he cleared his throat and straightened up properly, regaining his composure after the warded attack.
"Well then, brothers," he smirked and raised his hands in triumph, "it seems that we are victorious!"
"For the glory of the master!" the two other high priests called out.
"For the glory of the master!" the fanatics chanted.
They moved. From what had been a commotion of hundreds of bodies they moved into several lines on the floor, all turned at the high priests. As soon as everyone was in place, they sunk to their knees, completely silent.
"I'm so sorry, princess…" Locke mumbled through clenched teeth.
"No, no, no…" Celes whispered and shook her head.
"Sabin?" Terra said, hardly able to speak.
He slowly turned his head and looked at her past Gau and Cyan. Somehow he managed to smile a little, but it was a bitter smile. His attempt to make it comforting failed completely.
"Silence!" the left high priest snapped, "it is time to announce your crimes and sentences, sinners!"
"Excuse me?" Mog snarled, "are you idiots playing or are you really this stupid?"
"Silence!"
Terra tried hard to keep from chewing on her lower lip. There was no escape now, they had no possibility to save themselves. If only she still could use magic! But she couldn't…
Why didn't Gogo do something!? He was the only one who possibly could stop the madmen from killing all of those who had put an end to Kefka's tyranny. Why didn't he say something, why didn't he try to fool them?! Why didn't he imitate his brother and command someone to take his veil off, to free him and… and what? Walk off, get new lives? Anything! Gogo!
Terra couldn't see the mimic; he was on the other side of the statue. And that was in the way of her sight.
The silent hoods followed the three high priests as they moved over the floor, closer to the line of prisoners on the statue's right side.
"Setzer Gabbiani," the priest who had been to the right of the middle one said, almost chanting, "master Kefka's empire made you rich, providing you with a good life. And you turned your back at the great master anyhow, ungrateful. Betrayed his trust."
"Kefka never gave me a penny," Setzer snarled and continued with a rising level of shouting, "and even if he had I would have cut his bloody throat anyhow!"
"Silence, sinner!" the middle priest growled.
A hand hit the gambler's forehead, violently throwing the back of his head into the wall. He became quiet. Not unconscious, only knocked out for a moment. As the priests moved on he raised his head again and darkly glared at them.
"Locke Cole," the left priest coldly said, "you were a powerful man among the Returners, spying on the master's faithful troops and with childish tricks trying to confuse the warriors of the one true cause. And if that wasn't enough, you freed a convicted traitor who should have died long ago."
"And wasn't it sweet?" Locke hissed, "I'd gladly do it a thousand times again! My only regret is that I never got to see your so called 'master's' face when he heard about that his prey had escaped!"
"Silence!"
"Locke!" Celes hoarsely whispered as her beloved husband received the same treatment as Setzer.
"And Celes Chere," the priests mercilessly went on, "you were…"
"Celes Cole, if you please," the retired magitek-knight coldly said, with hate making her voice tremble slightly, "if you haven't noticed, I am happily married to this spy here."
What did it really matter… it was just one last desperate fight to at least anger their executioners.
"You shall die by the name the master knew you by, Celes Chere," the middle priest snapped.
"You're disgusting, but perhaps I don't have to inform you about that?" the woman emotionlessly said.
The middle priest's hand covered her mouth, so hard that her cheeks turned white. She tried to throw her head aside, fighting to get free. But it was impossible.
"Let her go, you…!" Locke snarled before the right priest silenced him in the same way.
"Stop this madness!"
Cyan's voice was thick with pain, but his eyes glowed with rage.
"There be no point with these torments!" he growled, "Kefka is dead!"
"That is not for you to decide, warrior of the fallen Doma," the middle priest coldly said.
The swordsman was pale with rage, unable to speak of his disgust.
"Celes Chere," the high priest holding her head repeated, "you had the honor of fighting by the master's side, but you betrayed him. And then you didn't even have the pride of taking your rightful punishment."
Even though they could speak again, both Celes and Locke were kept quiet by nothing more than the pure disbelief and loathing.
Sabin was next. He glared darkly at the three robes as well as he could with his one and half an eye. The one that had got hit was almost swollen over, he could hardly see with it.
"And prince Sabin," the middle priest growled, "you tried to stop the master on his quest to take down the kingdom of Doma. And apart from that, you teamed up with your treacherous brother after he had betrayed and even dared to make fun of the great one."
"Well, sue me," Sabin growled with a husky voice.
And he spat.
Hit the middle priest's already torn robe's chest.
Because of Sabin's fresh wounds, even a non hand-breaking hit hurt enough. The prince groaned and for a second he was about to loose his consciousness. Terra almost bit off her tongue. Her lips formed her all too newfound love's name, but the high priest's growling drowned the weak sound.
"You," he snarled, pointing at Sabin with a hand shaking with rage, "you will be second!"
He turned at the not very silent Gau. The young man was making sounds eerily similar to an angry animal, but it was impossible to decide which creature he was imitating to express his feelings.
"And you, wild child," the priest said through clenched teeth, "you who was free like the wind, you choose to follow the dirtiest paths of all; the one going against master Kefka. That choice condemned you as soon as you first thought about it. And apart from that, the fact that you dared to attack the master's finest servant will make you the first one to die."
The assembled cultists muttered in low anger. Gau said nothing.
Cyan's eyes should really have been able to kill any man. And since the shadows of the hoods hid the priests' faces, one could assume that they risked to look away, not meeting the cold gaze. Because those eyes were not healthy to look into, not even if you were completely mad and corrupted.
"Cyan Garamonde, you…" the left one began.
"May I assume that I should with honor have died by thy master's poison, just like my liege, my beloved wife and son did?" Cyan coldly said.
"At least you should have surrendered to the master's troops instead of deepening your crimes by joining the Returners," the priest said, untouched by the enraged sarcasm.
The swordsman of Doma said naught, unable to produce any words suitable for his hatred.
Terra stared straight forward as the three priests went on to her. She already had a clue about what her "crimes" were.
"Terra Branford," the middle priest said, "you had the highest blessing of all. You served the great master personally. But then, what did you do? Turned your back at him, your treachery even worse than Celes Chere's."
Bingo.
"Your death will…" the priest continued.
"I know, we all know," Terra snapped, "my death will be the most painful, master Kefka will see to it, yada, yada. But he won't come back, can't you understand that he's dead?! He's gone!"
Her world exploded with pain as her face was hit. She thought she heard her friends call her name, as if from very far away.
When she next opened her eyes, the three priests had moved on to the other side of the statue. She couldn't see, but she could imagine Edgar's handsome face turn to stone.
His crimes weren't hard to guess either.
"King Edgar of Figaro, you created an alliance with master Kefka's empire, all the time working with the Returners behind the master's back. Then you even dared to throw him into the sand of your worthless country before fleeing like a coward."
"Such a clear view of the truth. Sadly, you don't see it at all, you idiots!" Edgar snarled, which was followed by a not too surprising sound of a hand hitting a face and a head hitting a stonewall.
Shadow coldly watched the three priests, silent even though his weak hands turned into fists as his sins were listed.
"Shadow, the assassin," the right priest said, "you worked for the master's empire many times, took whatever task you found worth the money you was paid. Yet, that wasn't enough to secure your trust, and you began taking jobs for the Returners instead. Your choice of employment has forever condemned you."
Shadow said nothing as the priests stood there. But when they moved on towards Mog, the assassin opened his mouth.
"Hold it."
Maybe it was Shadow's calm voice, or perhaps they were just curious. Anyhow, the priests allowed him to continue.
"You might think that betraying Kefka was the worst thing I've ever done. Personally I believe that my darkest sin was to leave a woman alone when she would have needed me. I thought I would protect her by fleeing from those who were searching for me. But I left, I even took her dog with me on the run. I never even knew that she was pregnant. And when I found out, I ran away again. Maybe because I still felt hunted, or maybe because I was afraid to face her upset father."
A bitter smile touched his lips for a moment, then it died as he went on. His voice was the only sound to be heard, strangely enough.
"And then she died. And I wasn't there. I didn't even find out until far too late. I'm still surprised that Salea's father didn't hunt me down and cut my blasted throat."
Upon hearing the woman's name Relm became rigid all over, staring at the man in black. He bent his head and looked back at her, bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Relm," Shadow said, "I should have been there."
Relm tried to say something, but the only thing escaping her lips was a trembling, weak sob.
"Clyde Launreah…" Strago lazily sighed.
"Be still!" the middle priest impatiently interrupted.
The prisoners clenched their jaws, knowing what approached for every single one of their friends that the mad priests passed.
"Look at this!" the middle said in disgust and waved at Mog and Umaro, "a moogle and a yeti, fighting the great master. Even the nature itself makes unwise choices, when that best should know that the stronger should rule all."
"Psychos…" Mog growled again.
His growls were always charming. Too charming to be convincing.
He got hit anyway.
Umaro didn't even react when his "boss" groaned of pain in a weak voice. The yeti was still too drugged to know what was going on; apparently the madmen didn't want any problems with his strength.
"You sadistic monsters!" Relm screeched.
That was the final drop.
"Foul villains!" was the first thing Cyan shouted.
"Scum!" Terra snarled.
Those choices of words were the most tactful ones to be heard. If I would write down the other insults, this story would be rejected without further notice.
Umaro said nothing, but he was almost unconscious anyhow. Apart from him, Gogo was the only silent one of the prisoners. He stared at the floor with empty eyes, loose limbed like a zombie. It was pretty clear that he was the last ray of hope. And that had for some mysterious reason ceased to exist.
None of his friends could understand his behavior, and for the moment being none of them cared either. Their shock and horror had turned into mindless rage over what was happening out of their control.
Neither the priests nor the cultists moved or said anything as the screaming of desperate anger continued on for several minutes. It was as if they didn't hear or cared.
But finally there was a reaction.
A thin dagger cut through the air and stopped two inches from Strago's left eye.
"Enough!" the right priest who held the dagger growled, "be still or this old man will suffer even more before dying!"
"You blasted…" Strago snarled but then clamped his teeth.
Reluctantly the others also gave up and fell silent. They were all going to be killed; they didn't want any of their friends to suffer more pain than there would be anyhow.
Gogo still hadn't moved a muscle. Relm who was just beside him looked at the quiet, clothed man. But the prayers for help in her eyes weren't even noted.
"Well then," the priest said and hid the dagger in his cloth again, "Strago Magus-Arrowny, you should have kept up the good work with bringing the espers to master Kefka in Thamasa. But no, you choose, like all of your foolish friends, to step up on the wrong path."
Cyan wasn't the only one whose eyes should be able to cut through iron. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but it almost seemed as if the priests moved on a little faster than from the others.
"And you, Relm Arrowny," the left priest coldly said, "just imagine what heights you could have gained by offering master Kefka your services. Instead, you threw your young life away on the darkest of sins; fighting against the master."
Relm clamped her teeth to stop another flood of insults. She was very pale; the fear and recent explosion of rage had begun to drain her strength.
"Leave her alone," Gogo suddenly said, "she's just a kid."
Everyone of the prisoners except Umaro startled over suddenly hearing the muffled voice again. The mimic's eyes carried no emptiness, but a strange sadness, as he looked up and watched the three high priests.
"You speak of Kefka as your master all the time," he said, "it's truly sad…"
"Silence!" the middle priest snapped.
Gogo's head lowered again, tiredly.
"Very well, let's hear it," he muttered.
Those of his friends who could see the mimic stared helplessly at him. What was he doing? Giving up just like that? Why didn't he… didn't try to… wouldn't even…
Gogo!
His behavior did not touch the priests.
"You're just a mysterious warrior whose background is unknown," the middle priest said, "but that is irrelevant when facing your sins. You fought on the Returners' side against the master, and therefore you are also guilty of the gravest crimes."
Gogo made a strange sound, but with the veil almost strangling everything he said it was impossible to judge whether it was a sob or a bitter laugh.
"I didn't… tell them?!" Shadow whispered, exchanging an almost shocked glance with Edgar.
"I think you said they already knew where he was…" the king whispered back, just as bewildered.
The assassin smiled bitterly, almost in an insane way.
"Gods, what a laugh…" he hissed.
They don't even know? They don't know that!?
Terra almost began to laugh madly, the bizarre fact topping the despair and terror she experienced. It was simply too much, they knew almost everything except that their master had a twin brother!
'Calm down, my girl,' Maduin sadly whispered to her.
'Why, father?' she replied, close to hysteria even inside of her mind, 'why would I calm down?!'
'I don't know, Terra, I don't know… I'm so sorry for all this.'
Her father's sad voice nearly turned the mad laughter into tears instead. No, no, no, no… this can't be happening! Good gods…!
Somehow, she didn't know how, she managed to fight it back.
The three priests backed away from the silent Gogo.
"Well then," the middle one smirked, "you are all without doubt guilty of these dishonorable crimes. But cherish your sentence, sinners, because every drop of your blood will bring the master one step closer to his reclaiming of this world. And you, wild boy, have the honor of being the first one to give the great one your life force."
Four cultists in the front row stood up and approached Gau.
"Hey, take me instead!" Strago growled, "he's just a boy!"
"Kill me first, you bloodthirsty morons!" Sabin shouted.
"Let him be! Take me!"
"Not him!"
Nearly everyone of the prisoners was praying for mercy upon Gau. But of course neither the priests nor the four cultists cared about that.
Gau was freed from the irons, but was immediately grabbed by hands and feet instead. He snarled, kicked and screeched as they carried him towards the altar, all in vain.
His back hit the cold rock.
Umaro was too drugged, Gogo didn't move. All the other trapped heroes were screaming and shouting, desperately begging for the boy's life.
The chains clinked and new irons surrounded Gau's wrists. Even though he tried to kick like mad the chilly metal soon encircled his ankle joints too.
Gogo slowly raised his head.
The four cultists moved back into their places. The young man twisted like a crazed animal on the altar until the right and left priest grabbed his shoulders and legs to keep him in place.
The prisoners had almost fallen silent, watching in horror filled with anguish.
There was a growing concern in Gogo's eyes.
"Master Kefka, may you gain strength by this sacrifice…" the middle priest chanted and reached into his robe.
He brought out a thin dagger, its blade somehow darkened so that it was almost black. Gau kept struggling, his wild eyes nailed onto the dagger being held above his chest.
"Gogo!" Relm sobbed, "please, he's like a brother…!"
The concerned glistening in the mimic's eyes grew even more, but he didn't say anything.
"For the master!" the fanatics chanted in choir, as if in trance.
"For the master!" the priest shouted and raised his hands, aiming straight at Gau's throat.
Terra hardly forced her eyes shut with a trembling sob. It was too late for her young friend…
"Stop!"
The shout cut through the thick air, cleaved the intense coldness of pure despair simply by being completely unexpected.
Among the kneeling cultists, one stood.
There was a surprised and irritated whispering among the assembled fanatics as they turned their deep hoods at the interrupting one. Some of them even stood up to see better.
The high priest put his hands against his sides, clearly frustrated.
"Who are you, who dares to disturb the ceremony?" he demanded.
A hand grabbed the dark robe from within and pulled it as if the cultist was wrapping a cloak around himself. His other hand became visible from out of the long sleeve, the pointing finger waving in a familiar way.
"You should know me," a voice from beneath the hood said, smirking, "tsk, tsk, tsk…"
Then he laughed, a laughter that could cut through the skin, flesh and bone of anyone who was unlucky enough to hear it.
The hood was pushed backwards, revealing a thin, pale face and a mane of blond, well taken cared of hair. A madly red and green feather was peeking up through the hairdo, but how it was kept in place was a mystery.
When the dark robe fell off the man, another clothing was revealed; a crazed composition of bright yellow, green and red cloth.
Two eyes burning with madness gleamed as Kefka looked around with a sneer, his appearance lighting louder whispers among the fanatics.