Chapter Seven: The Sneak Thief
Excerpt from Artea's log
I wonder if this journey is ever going to come to an end. Guy and I have reached the fiftieth floor by my count. It marks half of the journey behind us, but half yet to come. It appears that matters won't be easier as we proceed, either. The monsters are starting to exhibit alarming strength and guile. Lexis said that swords and sorcery together can handle anything. But there are times at the end of battles when Guy and I can barely stand. The monsters are as infinite as misery, and their ranks are only growing.
More than powerful monsters and strenuous combat, the psychological aspect of this dungeon is at last taking effect. Slowly yet surely the walls of the cave seem to be closing in to suffocate us. More than anything in the world, I long to feel the kiss of the sun on my face and to know against the sweet sensation of the wind's fingers in my hair. I cannot bear rotting in this tomb for much longer.
The only thought that has sustained me is the prospect of restoring Maxim and Selan to life. This is Guy's and my sacred mission, which we must not forget, no matter how terrible our quest becomes. The sacred companionship of the Doom Island Four binds us with an oath stronger than brotherhood. And though my very life be endangered and my hours filled with misery, still I will persist to restore the very greatest of the Doom Island Four.
End of excerpt
Unseen hands roughly shoved Artea to the damp earthen cave floor. Caught unaware, the elf toppled. Something heavy slammed into the back of his head, momentarily stunning him. He groaned and attempted to spring to his feet. A second blow, more powerful than the first, smashed into his head. In his half-conscious state, the elf could feel hands running along his body, thieving fingers that didn't miss a pocket.
Guy finally caught on to the fact that Artea was being attacked. "Why you!" he hissed. The blonde warrior drew his sword and advanced on the thief. The nimble thief easily evaded his furious sword thrusts. Nonetheless, Guy had a plan: to slowly lure his opponent into a corner. And the plan worked…until the thief flung a suspicious packet to the ground.
"Spark!" Flames latched on to the item, and thick smoke filled the air. Guy reeled forward, his eyes watering. His nostrils stung from the yellow smoke. A taste of rotten eggs settled upon his tongue. Frantically he batted at the air with his sword. He only slashed at air. It appeared that the thief would surely escape when-
"Zap!" Artea, his voice powerful and terrible with bitter elven anger, sent a triangle of lightning snaking across the dungeon floor. Clumps of dirt sprayed loose in chunks. A circle lit beneath the target's feet, locking the thief in place. Through the nauseous smoke, Guy could see the thief, a shadowy silhouette. Suddenly the explosion that marked the close of the Zap spell shook the chamber. Guy was thrown to the ground. Long after the magic had run its course, he lay there, stunned, still feeling the ground quavering.
"Guy," Artea said. He sounded weary beyond measure. The elf extended his hand to the blonde warrior. Guy smiled at him, not realizing that he was lying on the ground. "I'm sorry. I cast the spell to snare the thief, but you were in its range as well. Luckily you only got hit with the edge of it. I hope you are unhurt, Guy… Speak to me, Guy!"
His eyes swimming in his head, Guy at last managed to grasp the elf's hand and rise from the floor. Then together, in silence, they approached the fallen form of Artea's assailant. Slowly the smoke cleared. Guy could see that the unconscious thief was a girl about Tia's age. Her clothes were in rags. Caked filth covered her skin as if she had not bathed in weeks, something Guy knew was very possible if one ventured into this dungeon. Guy wondered briefly if some of that noxious smell might not be due to the girl's smoke bomb after all. Upon her clever fingers, she wore Artea's rainbow-colored ring. In the same hand, she clutched a transparent orb. Providence.
"She did a fair clean-sweep on you, Artea," Guy remarked as he surveyed the girl's ill-gotten gain.
Artea pried Providence out of her grip and returned it to his own pocket. "The question is what we should do with her," he said when he had taken his ring back and slid it onto his finger.
"What do you mean?" Guy asked, confused. "Surely the spell killed her."
The elf cringed, and Guy suddenly regretted his coarse statement.
Another moment passed, whereupon the girl groaned piteously.
Artea laughed softly but mirthlessly. "It would appear not. She is either very powerful, or extraordinarily lucky," the elf said. "Frankly, I suspect the latter."
"She can't be that lucky," Guy remarked. "I bet she has been trapped in this cave for some time. Look at how thin she is. You don't make a hardy livelihood down in this dungeon, I suppose."
Artea, aloof by nature, as was the way of his kin, looked again at the unconscious thief. Her chest was heaving as if her starved body was trying to devour the air. Her cheekbones protruded sharply, and her arms and legs were as small as a child's. Ropey muscles showed plainly through her ghostly flesh. In his cold, mirror-like eyes flashed a glint of pity.
"I resent the delay," the elf admitted. "But let's wait for her to awaken. If she wishes, she can travel to the bottom with us and, when the time comes, use Providence to escape."
Guy hid his smile behind his hand. Perhaps the elves weren't as untouchable as they wished to appear.
{****}
Artea and Guy waited for almost half a day for the scrawny girl to come around. Artea refused to use a potion or a spell to revive her ("What if she tried to take Providence again?"). Nonetheless, Guy could tell that the typical elven regard for all life was kicking in. Guy knew that the girl's death would injure Artea's morale considerably, since he had been the one who had cast Zap. So they lingered beside the thief on her journey from Death's door, to his threshold, and back again. Finally Guy's eyelids began to get heavy. Surely snatching a moment of rest wouldn't hurt. Artea was as vigilant as a hawk, and besides, elves didn't ever really sleep, did they?
Suddenly Artea's shout sliced through the veil of slumber that had settled over Guy. The warrior snapped to alertness. He lurched to his feet and freed his sword.
The thief had risen. Already she and Artea were locked in a face-off of sorts that would have been comical had the prize not been so precious.
"Be careful, Guy!" Artea warned him as the warrior closed in. "She's been casting the Dread spell for some time now! Fighting her with a sword might be more difficult."
"Feh! I'm surprised you got this far into the cave," the thief mocked. "Your savvy is quite lacking."
"You mean stealth and cowardice?" Guy retorted.
The girl smirked. "It's a gift," she said. "An elf," she remarked cynically when she caught sight of Artea. "I might have known. What else would be stupid enough to leave me alive?"
Artea's eyes blazed with violet flame. The fire smoldered and died, becoming frigid violet crystals.
Guy felt scalding rage wash through his veins. Artea placed a warning hand on his shoulder. His ring flashed in the torchlight.
The thief's eyes, hard and narrow, widened in surprise. Suddenly without warning she bowed low to Artea and Guy. "You might be too compassionate for your own good," she amended, "but you have an Iris treasure in your possession." Her gaze lingered on Artea's graceful elven fingers.
That could only be Artea's ring, Guy thought. His every nerve exuded ice where once fires had burned. He did not trust the thief girl. Nonetheless, her tone was so suave that he could hardly believe her to be the same scalawag they had fought before.
"I am M'hana, resident treasure hunter of the Ancient Cave." M'hana bowed even lower. Her greasy bangs nearly brushed against the ground. "For four long years, I have wandered these corridors in search of the Iris Treasures." Now M'hana rose. "I have seven of them thus far…and now I see that you have the eighth in your possession."
Though it hardly seemed possible, Artea's glare chilled a few degrees further.
"I recall hearing you mention that if I awoke, you would take me with you to the bottom floor of this cave and warp me out with Providence. Does that still hold?"
Artea made a strangled sound and freed his rapier. Quick as a cat's wink, he pointed it at M'hana's scrawny throat. His shoulders rose and fell so rapidly that Guy wondered if the life-revering elf might run M'hana through after all. All expression melted from M'hana's face. Artea's arm trembled; the rapier in his hand quavered. Finally the elf heaved a deep breath. "Yes. You can travel to the bottom floor with us. If you live to the time we use Providence, then you shall return to the surface."
"What?" the thief whined. M'hana pushed the slim blade away from her throat. She opened her eyes as wide as they would go. "You mean…" she sniffed piteously, "you strong men won't protect me? You would leave a living being – a helpless young woman to the perils of this dungeon?" Her eyes locked with Artea's, challenging him with his own philosophy.
The elf sheathed his rapier in a poor attempt to regain his lost dignity. "Don't discount your own abilities," Artea said. "You are a highly skilled sneak thief and have managed to sustain your life through all these floors. I imagine that vermin envy your survival instincts."
M'hana flicked her wrist. Before Guy could blink, a dagger flashed into her hand. "Do not annoy me, elf," she hissed. "Cutting throats is a simple matter for me."
"That does not concern me," Artea retorted. "I suspect that your lust for the ring I wear will drive you to that extreme anyways. Don't expect to complete your collection of Iris treasures in this lifetime. Elven life spans surpass those of humans by a few centuries."
M'hana's face turned a mottled shade of red. A scathing reply perched upon her pursed lips.
Guy intervened before things could turn too ugly. "Let's get going, Artea," he suggested. "We cannot afford to waste time on this argument."
"Very well," the elf said stiffly. "Walk in front of me, Thief. Guy and I shall follow behind you."
M'hana raised an eyebrow. Then, a secretive smile on her lips, she crept forward, silent as the darkness.
{****}
When they stopped at the end of that day, Artea and Guy were soaked in sweat. The further they descended, the mustier and staler the cave air became. Only M'hana seemed unaffected by the tomb-like environs. At times in fact, she seemed to enjoy the filthy confining corridors. Artea had a sneaking suspicion that she enjoyed them purely for the discomfort they brought him. Often it was as if she melded with the very shadows. Both Guy and Artea's sword arms felt as if they would fall off. Long and difficult battles had numbed their muscles to all sensations. Artea was on the verge of losing his voice from the many spells he had cast during the day. M'hana, however, seemed accustomed to such hardship, perhaps because she had fought all of her previous battles alone.
Disgruntled and exhausted, Artea and Guy inspected the same chamber in which they had chosen as their camp. No monsters were to be found. Guy shut the door behind them. Meanwhile, Artea enchanted several bushes so that they blazed with blue elven fire that would ward off monsters that might venture past them in the night. After taking these precautions, Guy and Artea leaned against the wall, waiting for rest their exhausted bodies would not allow them. M'hana remained in the darkest corner of the circle next to the fungus-spotted wall. She sat as stiff and still as a statue.
"How many days do you estimate until we reach the floor with the cup, Artea?" Guy asked, keeping his voice low in case the self-named treasure hunter was listening.
Artea thought for a moment. "Probably another four days if we make haste. I, for one, favor taking a week or so to get there. Speed will do no good if it kills us."
"Agreed," Guy said. "And it's not getting any easier in this dungeon. Every time I look up now, we're in battle."
Artea sighed. "Guy, what are you going to do when we finish this adventure?"
"Die of boredom?" Guy suggested.
Artea laughed, but it sounded forced. "I meant seriously," the elf said. There was no mistaking the pain in his voice.
Guy sighed as if honest reflections awoke similar melancholy in him. "After I returned from Doom Island, Jesse told me that if I went on another adventure, she would not wait for me. Well, when I said I was going to Gruberick, Jesse made good on her word. So now I have no girlfriend waiting for me… Hilda's still running the inn. Maybe I can bum some work off of her and then die of boredom. On second thought, Maxim and Selan will be back in Parcelyte. Maybe we can go on one last adventure before we get too old for it." Suddenly Guy laughed. "Well, getting old won't be something you have to worry about for quite a while, huh, Artea? Lucky for you."
Artea managed a weak smile. "It's always one more adventure," he murmured. "Guy, do you ever feel as if being on par with Super Beings sets you apart from everyone else? Like you just can't be normal and live life, you have to fight and seek new horizons with…"
"With?" Guy echoed.
"Your 'friends of the sword'?" Artea choked out.
"Yeah, now that you mention it," Guy said thoughtfully. "It's as if we're restless all the time…like sentries that never really sleep."
Artea managed a cynical smile, as if that was just what he had expected to hear.
"What about you, Artea of the long-lived elves?" M'hana queried from the shadows. Not a trace of mockery tinged her words. Nonetheless, Guy glimpsed Artea stiffen. A long silence hung over the dismal chamber.
At last Artea spoke. "Above all things, we elves revere life. However, we do not treasure it simply for being. Rather we view life as part of an intricate, ongoing cycle that endures through the ages." Artea paused as if speaking further of the matter pained his very heart. "What we are trying to do – recovering the cup of wishes and using it to resurrect the fallen – will break that cycle in which death and life play equal roles. So entirely will this act defy convention that my people already despise me for attempting it. They will view Maxim and Selan, the revived heroes, as monstrosities. What is more, however, if we actually succeed, they may go as far as to come after me and those whom the cup revives."
"So you will be forced into exile?" There was no mistaking the hard edge of bitterness in Guy's voice.
"Yes. I will be an outcast at best," Artea said.
"How awful that they would persecute you for having your own ideas," Guy whispered.
"Feh," M'hana snorted huffily. "It is a bitter fact to swallow. But when you reject a society's norms, you are, in effect, rejecting society." She only sounded sad, perhaps even a little nostalgic.
Artea raised an eyebrow at M'hana's observation. "Yes, that is true," he said. "The elves have a very structured, uniform society."
M'hana barked a harsh laugh of derision. "All too true, elf! That is why your kind is so predictable!" With that, the thief slunk back into the shadows. Artea and Guy remained in the light of the eerie blue fire to catch what sleep they could. Guy nodded off almost immediately. Artea, however, stared long into the still, moist darkness, watching for any flickers of movement and keeping close vigil over his Iris ring.
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Hopefully updates will be more frequent now that I've gotten my head on straight, so to speak. Sorry for the big delays. Jet lag bites. :(
I have a question for anyone reading this fic, but it's a little off the subject (not too much, though) Does anyone have a copy of Elaine Pedee's fic, Final Fantasy III: Conspiracy of the Cult? If you do, please e-mail it to Sarsos@aol.com. A thousand thanks!
Doc, it's so good to hear from you again. ;)