Chrono Trigger - Threads of Destiny
Chapter 3: Forbidden Memories
65,000,000 B.C.
Ayla collapsed lifelessly to the hut's rough but warm straw floor, exhausted from her last three sleepless days; she'd had to deal with more disasters and attacks this week than Ioka village had seen in the last year. They had had ice, rain and wind storms continually, several fires and stampedes in the hunting grounds had slowed their gathering of food, leaving the village running mostly on it's food stores, and Reptites had been assaulting the village off and on.
More than any other, Ayla worried about the last. Storms and fires and stampedes were natural phenomenon, she could do nothing about those; the Reptities, however, she was sure had been all but wiped out when Lavos had fallen from the sky. She had been there and had watched the 'fire big' fall down and leave only a huge crater where the Tyrano lair had once stood. More disturbing was the number of Reptites that attacked the village; the number reported had been over one hundred, a number which Ayla had not believed possible until she'd seen the mass with her own disbelieving eyes.
More puzzling was how they fought. They would throw stones and lob flaming boulders and trees at the defenseless village all day, but when rushed by the Iokans, though superior in numbers and strength, they would simply flee into the great forest surrounding the southern area of the continent.
Angered and frustrated, Ayla had taken a squad of the villagers with her and had hunted the Reptites into the depths of the jungles. After nearly a day of following the cold-blooded lizards, Ayla and her group had lost the trail completely, unable to even follow the tracks back out of the forest. They had wandered aimlessly for hours before the monsters had found them. Attacking with a hungered ferocity, the jungles natural inhabitants had appeared from nowhere and killed two men before even Ayla could react.
Ayla and the remaining villagers had managed to fight off the creatures, though at a great cost to their bodies and remaining energy. After being chased off or killed, the remainder of the hungry beasts followed Ayla and her men as they searched for the exit to the forest. The Iokans had been frightened and confused by the missing Reptites and lost purpose, then surprise attacked by phantom-like, wild beasts, and now they were completely lost in the foreign jungle; Ayla was impressed with their stamina, both mentally and physically.
The ragged team eventually found the familiar open plains of grass again, and after taking bearings had found themselves mysteriously on the other side of the Reptite forest and as far from Ioka as possible. When the men had suggested setting up camp and going home on the morrow, Ayla had rebuked them, reminding them of the forests native beasts.
Not desiring to be creature food, the Iokan group had pushed relentlessly across the barren plains, taking no rests and never slowing down, though their bodies screamed for sleep and their bellies cried out in vain for food.
They had all made it back to Ioka, each returning to their homes, too tired even to notice or think about the strange reaction the villagers had when thy returned. Ayla had the farthest to travel, her hut being on the northern edge of the village; she had only now collapsed, too tired even to sleep and too worn out to move.
Closing her eyes and willing sleep to come, Ayla struggled to ignore the pain wracking her body and the wounds still burning on her skin. She heard the hut's door flap open and silently cursed, "Ayla too tired to help, need rest."
"Oh I think that was the general idea, my dear."
Although she didn't recognize the voice, she knew by the speech it was no one from this time period. Jumping to her feet, however, proved to be more than she could handle, tripping and falling hard to her knees, still trying to focus on the talking shadow.
"Now, now, don't waste what little energy you have left!" he said, "I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
"Who you," Ayla said flatly, old memories flashing into her mind then wavering and fading as though through murky waters. Ayla tried to remember them more clearly, forcing her worn out mind to focus. Slowly the memories began to take a more clear shape.
"Hmph, exactly why I'm here. Unbelievable that your simple, limited mind would be able to even partially reject my memory changing magic! I must know how you are doing it. And to test those theories, I'm afraid I'll need to take you with me."
Ayla stood, though barely, and faced the man, "You will no take Ayla easily!"
"You think to challenge me with that battered body of yours?" came the man's sarcastic reply, "I think you're underestimating my power and overestimating your own!"
Ayla didn't wait for more chat, throwing herself forward into a roll, trying to get close to the shadow-man before he could use any magic on her, she had fought enough wizards and sorcerers to know that your best hope was surprise and speed. The man simply faded into the darkness, disappearing from the rolling cave-woman's view. She broke the roll, landing lightly on her feet, sniffing the cold, night air for his scent.
She threw herself backwards, pulling herself into a mid-air roll and throwing her leg out into the darkness as she fell. A resounding thud as her foot hit something solid and sent it flying was followed shortly by a sour grunt and bit-off curse.
The stranger faded back in from the darkness, holding his side in pain, more pain than could have been caused by Ayla's single blow.
"Errggh...you'll pay for that you barbarian! This time you and your friends are no match for me! This time I have his power as well! You cannot beat me!"
Ayla wasted no time thinking on the words of the lunatic she fought, immediately dashing towards the other once more, ignoring the pain and stress her body screamed at her. Focusing his eyes on the running woman, the stranger growled and raised his hand.
"Fool, I thought only to wear you out without hurting you...but you leave me no choice!" he exclaimed, a wave of energy flowed from his hand, sending Ayla flying through the air to crash into the hut's wall, her face being pelted with all the loose straw and splinters from the floor.
The fighting in the hut had attracted the attention of the villagers, and before Ayla could even get up off the floor, Kino rushed in, club in hand, "Ayla! You ok?"
"Kino! Run, get out of here!" Ayla shouted.
The stranger wasted no time, fading out and then in right behind the frightened cave-man. Kino exclaimed in surprise and swung his club right into the other face. The stranger caught the club mid-swing, a loud slap resounding through the hut like a death bell; he then grabbed Kino by the neck, lifting the cave-man off the floor and began to crush his neck.
"No!" Ayla shouted, rushing him.
"Move another step and I'll kill him," the stranger said dispassionately, his other hand summoning a writhing mass of lightning between it's fingers, "Come with me and I'll spare his life..."
Kino said nothing, sweat rolling down his face as he struggled to breath, his eyes focused on the mass of electricity mere inches from his unprotected face.
Ayla sighed and sat down hard, "Ayla come with you. Word of honor..."
He laughed, dropped Kino, and flung his lightning filled hand towards Ayla. She didn't even move as the magic approached; though she screamed when the lightning flowed through her already-worn body, taking what little strength she had left and shattering it. Ayla collapsed into a life-less body upon her hut's floor, not moving and only barely breathing.
Chuckling darkly, the stranger raised his hand and Ayla's comatose corpse floated silently towards his outstretched hand. Grabbing her waist and carrying her lightly under one arm, the stranger floated backwards as a large, blue and black portal formed from the air. Kino couldn't even act, only stare as the stranger and Ayla disappeared into the Gate.
Silence dominated the village, no one spoke and even the air refused to blow... it was several moments before one sound broke the silence. A window shattering cry of pure anguish from the damaged throat of the cave-man Kino, "AYYYLLLAAAA!!!"
12,000 B.C.
Melchior shivered. The night's air was cold and Melchior wished he'd thought to bring along a thicker cloak. His traveling companion didn't seem to even notice the biting cold, ignoring everything but the hulking Black Omen as they walked. The two of them had been walking for several hours now, walking in as straight and direct a path to the Black Omen as the ground would allow; Melchior feared the Black Omen's return and knew something had to be done about it, but his companions focus and intensity were a bit frightening.
They came upon the edge of a huge cliff, one of the many new landscape features they owed to Lavos. His companion lifted his face to the sky once more, as if listening.
"This is taking too long," the other said, "I'm going to take us there by a more direct, though dangerous, route."
Melchior looked at him blankly for a moment, "More direct... whatever do you mean?"
The other said nothing, but lifted one of his gloved hands; a green-white glow enveloped his hand as he muttered some words in an ancient dialect that even Melchior didn't recognize. Suddenly the greenish glow spread around both of them, creating a bubble of force which the man lifted by raising his hand higher.
"Hold on, old man, I wouldn't want you to die from a heart-attack before you can get me into the Omen," came the humor-less sound of the travelers voice, "If anything should approach leave it to me."
Melchior bit back an acid reply to the others insult, somewhat annoyed and wondering why he was willing to help the lost man.
On the other hand, Melchior thought, I'm no longer in my prime, and even my magic is no longer what it once was...
The force bubble lifted smoothly off the ground as Melchior still struggled with his introspection, rising above the ground by at least 5 times their own height. With a small gesture, Melchior's reticent companion sent them flying along the ground.
"Odd, I don't feel any movement at all... I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where you learned this magic?" Melchior asked his companion.
The other said nothing, staring darkly at the nightmarish floating castle in the clouds. Melchior sighed pensively, he'd always wanted to travel and have an adventure, but with perhaps more lively traveling companions.
Their travel was definitely much swifter now, the rough, broken ground flowing by at an alarmingly fast rate. Melchior wondered why his companion hadn't used this form of transportation from the start.
"Because I was hoping to get near the Black Omen without her noticing," his companion said plainly.
"Rrrg, would you mind not reading my mind," Melchior asked, "It's very impolite and rather disturbing."
The other turned to face him, expressionless yet with haunted eyes, "I don't read your mind, you scream your thoughts so loudly I cannot help but hear them."
Their eyes locked for a moment, their wills hovering threateningly on the edge of a battlefield neither wanted to take part of. Finally Melchior looked away, knowing the other was still too strong willed and stubborn to back down from his elders, and not wanting to start a battle he might not win.
"You have too much to lose, Melchior, that is why you would have lost."
The other turned to stare at the Black Omen once more, his look and mind far away. The old guru stared at him for a moment, then turned to face their closing destination, it's glimmering lights overwhelmed by the physical and spiritual waves of shadow and black magic emanating from it.
They were coming close now, it's shadow no more than a few miles away; Melchior sighed inwardly as he prepared to visit a place he had not visited in many, many years.
As they floated closer, the darkness of the Black Omen's shadow nearly covering them, Melchior could have sworn he heard the other mutter a word softly under his breath...
"Schala..."
End of Time
Gaspar shook his head awake once more, breaking the eternal lethargy he felt these days, coming back to the here and now. To Gaspar however, the here and now was yesterday and tomorrow. He had long since learned how to use the abilities granted to those who stood at the End of Time, among them his ability to follow what was happening to any given Time Stream.
Gaspar sighed, "Melchior, are you always were willing to gamble. Even I cannot tell them apart when the other is trying, are you sure you've won the flip or are you on the losing end this time?"
"You worry too much," came a cheery voice, "And don't try to sound so wise either, there's no one here to show off for and you're just as bad when it comes to gambling."
Gaspar grunted, not even bothering to turn to face the voice, "You gambled heavily on them as well, but it all turned out in the end."
Spekkio, the First Mystic and the first user of magic grunted, "No, you gambled, I knew they were only tapping a potential given to them."
Gaspar turned in surprise, "Potential given to them? You've never spoken of that... what do you mean?"
The other stood staring off into the space of time in his red Nu form, the closest to his true form, "I mean what I said. When the three first came here I sensed a power in them, a power beyond the normal strength of will and inner power needed to properly wield magic. They became so strong so fast, and it seemed whatever level of strength was needed was the level of strength they reached."
Gaspar leaned back against his lamp-post, "True, I had noticed it... their inner strength was rather amazing, and their power was much greater than your average person could attain so quickly."
Spekkio nodded, "And now all this. Neither you nor I saw this one coming. Action and reaction, funny how someone so obvious totally slipped our minds. And how something so dangerous slipped our foresight."
Gaspar shook his head, "We never could have guessed on an anger and thirst for revenge so great that it could actually tear apart the prison she'd formed for herself; a prison so complete even I was sure there were no holes left open."
Spekkio laughed, "Don't be so foolish, there's no such think as a complete prison. And beside that, I wouldn't call what she'd formed around herself a prison. Looking back, what's happening now makes perfect sense."
Gaspar grunted, "You may have a point there, but..."
A sudden dimming in his lamp and the pillars of light shut the old man up instantly. Gaspar and the mystic turned as one to face the pillars as a Gate opened right above the other nine shining time gates.
A man floated out from the intruder Gate. A man Gaspar knew but had never met, a man Gaspar had met but never known; his black cloak flowed like a poisonous, oily liquid, his shadowy presence absorbing and feeding from the feeble light surrounding him, his cold, red eyes shining like a blood-stained, lost soul from beneath the dark hood.
"You two are still hanging around here," the darkness stated flatly, "I have use for this place, you can leave it now with your lives or you may die here and be absorbed by the Time Stream."
Gaspar and Spekkio looked at him in surprise, shocked that he would chance coming here to face both the First Mystic and the Guru of Time as though they were nothing more than a pair of magical novices. Both were too old to be surprised by his arrival, surprise is half the battle, as Spekkio had put it.
Gaspar laughed, "You're bluffing, if you really had enough power to defeat both Spekkio and I, you wouldn't be giving us the chance to flee, you'd have killed us already."
Spekkio said nothing, staring intensely at the floating figure.
The floating man said nothing, only waited patiently, waiting for the guru and the mystic to make their move. Gaspar glanced sideways at Spekkio, watching for a reaction from the mystic; he'd been staring at the stranger without a single word since his arrival and Gaspar was worried he might be missing something important.
Finally the stranger said, "My patience is limited, if you do not leave now I will be forced to remove you."
Finally, Spekkio spoke, "You may beat us, but in the end they'll defeat you."
"Perhaps you believe so, First Born, but they are split up and forgetting their past. Nothing can stop that now, the boys sword will only protect him for so long."
"Don't forget the Masamune," Spekkio smiled grimly, "It's power is not something even you can mess with lightly."
"Ah yes, the Masamune," he smiled, "Foolish frog, putting the blade back where is came from... I do so hope for their continued safety, but those mountains can be very dangerous."
Spekkio's look darkened, "What dirty trick do you have in mind for them?"
"That," he said, "is none of your business. Now, are you leaving, or dying?"
Spekkio smiled, "Neither."
Gaspar readied himself physically and magically, waiting for the black-cloaked man to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long. The stranger didn't even bother to gesture or speak as he summoned a wave of water which swirled it's way around the guru and the mystic. The two experienced magic-users worked in perfect unison to erect a solid magical shield; just in time the green glow formed to stop the crashing waves of the watermagic.
Their opponent continued with the watery barrage for a moment before calling down a hail of firestones with a dramatic overhand gesture. The stones impacted with the shield and the water, creating hisses and steam in the swirling tides and green-white detonations along the magical shield.
Gaspar nodded to the mystic, who got his message, We need to attack, playing defensively will only take us so far. Summoning all his power and endurance, Gaspar took over the entire shield. The black-cloaked man didn't even blink as Spekkio's barrage of ice crystals swarmed towards him.
He didn't bother to waste the energy to create a shield, merely redirecting some of the firestones to collide with the ice, creating visually stunning flashes of red-blue-white detonations as the magicks canceled each other out.
Spekkio was one of the most skilled and powerful magic users in history, but forming a thick wall of clouds overhead while continuing with the ineffective ice assault was taking more out of the mystic than Gaspar cared to think about. For that matter, maintaining the shield was taking more out of the tired old guru than he cared to think about.
Their opponent ignored the clouds, continuing relentlessly with his fiery assault on the pair's weary defenses. Gaspar was finding each hit to the shield to be more and more draining, soon it would reach the point where only his life-force would be sustaining the shield, his magical energies depleted.
Spekkio's foresight saved the old guru, however, as sheets of rain began to fall from the mass of dark clouds gathered above. He made the downpour so heavy as to put out even the magical fires of the fire-storm falling from the sky; Gaspar found himself no longer needing to maintain the full power of the shield, and quickly grasped the magical flows of the ice barrage, maintaining the ice assault.
The cloaked one's face became even more grim, as though he had decided a cruel and nasty fate that even he did not entirely approve of. Spekkio, however, gave him no time to put that fate to the test, using his newly freed magical resources to call down dozens of bolts of incadecent lightning upon their foe. The dancing lightning scored on their opponent, who cried out in pain as the lightning arced and raged through his body.
He was, unfortunately, made of tougher stuff than that.
With a mighty heave, the cloaked one threw his hands and feet wide, creating a shield around him, which the lightning continued to dance around. Breathing heavily and sweating, the slightly smoking, cloaked man threw back his hood and gave Spekkio such a hate-filled look that the guru went cold from the mere emotional backlash.
The First Mystic was not, however, easily shaken, "Your victory, if victory it will be, cannot be won lightly. I won't stop you if you leave now, but challenge us again and I will not hold back."
The old guru stared at the magic-user, his voice and inflection had significantly changed from the goofy, fun-loving mystic he usually was; this being was one of incredible knowledge and power, an ancient Wisdom who had watched countless wars and seen countless people, nations, heros, friends, and foes face their end.
Their opponents only smiled, "I think you believe you still know me, First Born. I have changed in many ways, not the least of which I owe to your tutelage of the Time Stream Travelers and their timely defeat of Lavos. I think I will show you some of my true power..."
Spekkio looked bleakly at Gaspar and whispered, "When he's at the peak of his concentration we'll need to make a run for the nearest Gate Pillar. I'm counting on you to open it while I keep him busy."
Gaspar shook his head, "He's only bluffing, we damaged him once and we can..."
"No! I can sense his power, I never realized that black wizard had such powers hidden away, nor that Lavos could have sealed them. His level of skill is at least equal to my own, and his true power is much, much greater, I can sense that now. Our only hope is to run and find Crono and the others."
"Plans will avail you little, you and I both know your chances are nil."
The black one raised his hands, the shield surrounding him starting to glow a fuzzy, reddish color; his hands began to pulse with pure magical energy, a power so great that even the untempered magical energy was visible.
"Go!" Spekkio exclaimed.
Both of them shot towards the nearest Gate Pillar, Gaspar raised his hands and started chanting a spell to open the portal with a perfection born of practice, knowing full well he was taking too long and unable to rush the ritual without chancing failure. Spekkio, knowing that Gaspar needed time, turned back to face their still concentrating opponent, gathering and focusing his power around the mage in preparation for his final spell of the battle.
The black mage turned back towards them, his power gathered and waiting. The old guru was sweating profusely, his concentration as intense as his foe's magic. The mystic's face was strained, his own power strained to the limit.
The picture-perfect moment of balance between the three magic-users lasted only an eternal second, shattered by the cry of the First Mystic's final, desperate move, "Dreamless!"
The mage was taken aback for a moment, surprise and anger flashing like Spekkio's lightning across his face, "Wha...?"
The fore-wash of energy from the spell was alone enough to stain the dark mage's shield with waves of force, the color's swirling along the shield intensifying a dozen-fold as the spell formed it's pyramidal plane's of magic around the muffled sorcerer.
"Hurry Gaspar," shouted Spekkio, "this will not hold him long!"
Quite on the contrary, the spell seemed to be wearing their foe's shield down at an alarmingly fast rate as the four elemental magic planes forming the pyramid spun their deadly dance around the rainbow-hued shield.
"There!" Gaspar shouted as his eyes shot open, "Stand back, the portals opening!"
The familiar blue-black Time Gate opened, the fruit of their efforts awakened.
"Go!" shouted Spekkio, "Get into the portal now! I'll follow right behind you!"
Gaspar didn't hesitate, knowing how dangerous hesitation was, jumping straight into the center of the portal, his reflexes ready to close the glowing vortex as soon as the First Mystic was through.
Spekkio wasted no time, running towards and jumping into the Gate.
Just as Gaspar was closing the Gate the Dreamless spell came to a close, the final wave of the multi-elemental power collapsing in upon the epicenter of the glowing shield spell.
Gaspar made the fatal mistake of hesitating a split second to confirm their opponents death.
"You won't get away so easily!" shot the reply from the center of the still swirling energies, along with a beam of pure magical energy; their foes final attack. Gaspar immediately let the portal close, his mind reeling form the though of anyone surviving a full-scale Dreamless attack with Spekkio's full power behind it.
Just as the Gate closed Gaspar was blinded by the bright light of the beam, his old and sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the explosion of sheer brilliance, his mind and conciousness fading away with the quickly fading light.