Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Final Fantasy VIII. All such characters are copyrighted property of Squaresoft.
Snows of Winter, Rains of Spring
By Joshua Reardon
Chapter 3: Crimson Snow
Slowly coming out of darkness, Squall awoke to a world of blossoming pain and exploding agony.
Squinting at the light filtering through the pines, he found himself on his side, lying in the snow beneath a massive fir tree, the green needles contrasting with the snow all around him that was stained in his blood. He had to laugh, the red and the green, it was absurdly like Christmas.
Trying to prop himself up brought a gasp, as sharp pain lanced through his side. He tried again, wincing through it. He got to his knees and reached out to steady himself on the tree behind him. He found his arm hanging limply at his side, dislocated at the shoulder. He pulled himself to his feet and felt the throb in his side. He opened his jacket to find a gash as long as his fore-arm, crossing him from pelvis to sternum, blood streaming from the wound like a leaky tap. A large bruise was forming on the other side, broken ribs probably, and not just a few. Grunting in determination he turned himself toward the tree and steadied himself with his good arm. Clenching his jaw and throwing all his weight into the motion, he rammed his shoulder against the tree. His vision went dark at the edges as a wave of agony swept through him and a ragged cry was ripped from his throat to reverberate in the empty stillness. He heard a distinct pop as bone ground against cartilage. Leaning against the tree, he could feel the bark like tiny needles against his face. Breathing heavy, flecks of blood flying from his mouth, he tried to steady himself. He knew that if he blacked out now, he would never wake up again. Through shear force of will he was able to stay conscious as a dull throb took root in his shoulder. At least he could actually move it though.
Once his vision had cleared, he looked around at the encroaching forest. Snow covered everything in a white fluffy blanket, perfectly hugging the forest floor. He looked at his feet and found a gathering circle of red stained flakes. Not ten feet from the base of the tree was Lion Heart, sticking from the earth like Excalibur from the stone, blue steel shining in the morning light even through the black ichor etching the blade.
He stumbled toward the sword. Leaning on it for support, he tried to gather his bearings. His mind could recall the events of the battle, but it was like a lazy fog that was slowly burning off in the mid-day sun. Nothing looked familiar, so he gave a best guess and began walking.
'Hyne', he thought, 'how far did I fly?'
* * * *
It moved so fast, striking with lightning speed. Squall barely had time to register that the beast had moved before the jaws were enclosing him. With reflexes honed from an entire lifetime of training, Squall brought his gunblade up in a quick slash, scoring the fiend along the jaw. A quick pull of the trigger, and energy flashed along the blade in a bang that resonated through the trees. The blade bit deep and black ichor splashed Squall along the arm, steam rising in the cold, even as the beast snapped its head back. It let out a roar of pain before settling back and staring at Squall. A great tongue, slick with saliva, slid out of its jaws and licked the wound
Once again, a hollow voice echoed in Squall's mind. 'You can sting man-thing, but do you believe that you can defeat me with that tiny piece of metal?'
"I can try." He squared his shoulders and went into a defensive stance, his gunblade down low, but at the ready.
'You cannot stand against me', the beast bellowed in Squall's mind, as steam arose from its nostrils. 'I am Melfistadon, greatest of Ruby Dragons. I am mankind's destroyer, preparing the way for the King's return!'
Squall could only stare at this great monster. It began to thrash in anticipation, snapping its jaw and raking its talons. What had it meant by 'King's return'?
Squall stared up at the beast, defiance plainly written on his face.
"Whatever."
The dragon roared in anger, its bellow sounded like a thunderclap. Squall's knees almost buckled, only shear willpower kept him standing, even as his insides quaked.
Melfistadon reared up on his hind legs and began to inhale. Even as Squall saw the motion he began to run. Desperately sprinting through the brush, he reached deep into his mind, unlocking his junctioned magic. The pink magic shell was just beginning to form around him as he felt a blast of hot air from behind him. The shell had fully formed as the ball of fire overtook him, blowing him off his feet and into a spinning tumble. He could feel the shell straining against the dragonfire, barely keeping the flames from searing his flesh to ash. He landed hard, trailing a line through the snow. He got up slowly, even as his mind screamed for him to move faster.
He was barely standing when the dragon dropped out of the sky. It landed hard and fast, sending a shockwave reverberating out from the impact. Squall again was thrown into the air, trailing behind the snow and dirt and trees. Gripping tight to Lion Heart, he tried to twist around to land on his feet and saw that this time Melfistadon had followed him. Lightning quick, the dragon stretched out an arm toward Squall even as he flew through the air. A massive talon raked his side, digging deep into flesh and batting him against a tree. He scrambled to his feet and gripped Lion Heart even tighter as blood poured out of the wound to soak his now tattered jacket.
Knowing he had to take the offensive, Squall charged toward the creature, adrenaline fighting fiercely to keep him from passing out. The dragon roared and snaked another arm forward to take Squall's head. Once again reaching deep into his mind, Squall summoned forth a glowing blue shield before him, just as Melfistadon's talons came racing in. The massive claws raked deep furrows into the protection spell but did not penetrate, even as Lion Heart came up to bite deep into the dragon's foot. A pull of the renzokuken and electrical fire raced along the blade of Lion Heart, slicing into the foot and taking one of the talons off at the knuckle. Hot bloody gore drenched Squall as the dragon let out a roar of anguish.
The dragon pulled back snaked its body around. Moving faster than Squall could imagine for a creature that size, its massive tail came around in a whip like motion, scattering trees and snow in a great sweep. The tail took Squall in the side. It was like being hit with a giant log. Squall went flying through the air once more to smack viciously into a large boulder, his head cracking against the unforgiving stone. Black flecks swam before his eyes as darkness closed in around him. His side was on fire and he could barely breathe. He could taste the salty, metallic tang of blood in his mouth and his nostrils were filled with the vile smell of the monsters gore.
A small voice in his head warred with the overwhelming urge to let the darkness overtake him. The voice kept repeating a single word until it was a deafening cacophony, drowning out the call to rest.
"Rinoa."
He got to his feet, his back to the boulder. Somehow, one hand still gripped Lion Heart, so tight he could barely feel it anymore. Stubbornly, he set his shoulders. His vision cleared just in time to see the dragon.
Like quicksilver, the beast snaked its head in and clamped its teeth on the fringes of Squall's clothes.
'Now you die man-thing!'
Straight up Squall flew as Melfistadon tossed him like a rag doll for his amusement. As he reached his apogee, he twisted enough to see the dragon opening it jaws and inhaling. High above the trees, plummeting like a rock toward gaping jaws, he had but seconds to react. Steeling himself, he reversed his grip on Lion Heart and reached into his mind one last time for the magic that was lying there, waiting for him. Reaching his hand forward, wind streaking past his outstretched fingers, he called forth the magic. The air tingled with energy and the smell of ozone filled his nostrils as lightning streaked from his hand to strike the great beast.
Melfistadon roared in pain as the lighting racked his great body, causing spasms of pain. Arching his neck, he presented his open stomach to the plummeting Squall.
Dropping like a stone, Squall slammed into the dragon's upper chest, Lion Heart digging deep, as the renzokuken flashed. Like a knife through butter, Squall let Lion Heart and gravity trace a line in blood from the beast's chest down to its stomach. Hot black ichor sprayed like a jet, almost burning him.
As the monster's stomach was pierced, the furnace that fueled the dragon's deadly fire breath burst, exploding like napalm. Squall flew through the air like a broken rag doll, limbs flailing. His magical shell evaporated as the fire ball overtook him, charring his clothes.
Flying uncontrollably through the air, he collided with a large fir, smacking his shoulder into the evergreen. With deadened fingers, Lion heart slipped from his grasp even as he fell in a crumpled heap at the base of the tree.
Darkness once again encroached and this time, he let what felt like sweet soft arms enfold him and hold him close. She was there with him, he was sure of it. There was no more pain, no more stench of death. Just her silky touch, and lilac smell.
* * * *
To Squall, it seemed like days that he had been walking, but the sun had barely moved over the tops of the trees since he had started out from the fir.
He knew he didn't have much time. His head was throbbing with a dull ache, matched only by the pain in his shoulder. His side burned like fire from the gash, and it was still bleeding, even though he had tried to wrap it tight with his shirt. Still, every step had more of his precious lifeblood seeping out of the wound to leave a crimson trail in the snow.
His head throbbed so fiercely he couldn't concentrate long enough to draw forth even the simplest of curative spells, and his small stock of potions had been destroyed when the great beast's tail had taken him in the ribs, breaking at least three. He needed medical attention soon, or he'd never see her again. It was that thought, more than any actual desire to live that kept him putting one foot in front of the other.
Once again her face swam into his vision, her hair floating like a dark cloud, framing her features.
He shook away the hallucination before he stumbled. If he fell, he knew he would never get up again.
He ran a gloved hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He was covered in sweat in minus 25 degree weather. He had to get back to the town.
The sky slowly began to darken as clouds rolled in over the mountains. Snowflakes began to fall lazily around him as he trudged his way through the underbrush. The falling snow soon began to obscure his vision.
A keening howl suddenly broke the stillness. Squall whipped around in the direction of the cry. Listening closely, he could hear the sound of many feet, paws more like, churning the snow of the forest floor. Cursing the open wound in his side, he turned and fled in the opposite direction, moving as fast as his condition would allow.
Every stride brought a new gasp of pain as more of his precious lifeblood spilled on the forest floor. As long as the blood kept flowing, he would never lose the animals. Seeing a clearing ahead through a swirl of snowflakes, he darted through the tree-line.
Bursting into the clearing, he dashed for the centre and turned to make his stand, gripping Lion Heart fiercely in one hand, the other pressed firmly against the deep gash in his side.
Slowly creeping into the clearing came the Worgs. Parting from the tree-line like flowing shadows, they moved into a circle around Squall.
Something more than mere wolves, the worgs moved with a grace that belied their large frames. Squall could see sinewy muscles ripple underneath the fur coats as they slowly closed in on him. Jaws began to snap, and dripping fangs were bared as growls issued forth from the creatures throats. One of the worgs moved forward further than the rest, obviously the alpha male from the silvery markings on his mostly black frame.
The sky began to darken even more. As black clouds rolled overhead, snow began to fall in a frenzy.
The lead worg began to circle Squall, eyeing him with a look of hunger. Pain engulfing his body, black specks once again swimming in his vision, the SeeD commander could only set his shoulders and stand ready. He would not be an easy kill for this pack of hunters.
In one fluid motion, the worg sprang at Squall, jaw gaping and teeth bared. With the last of his remaining strength, he brought Lion Heart up into the beast's stomach, even as the jaws of the monster clamped around his good shoulder. As the fangs of the worg sank down to bone, Squall pulled the trigger on his gunblade. The renzokuken flashed as sword pierced muscle and bone. The momentum of the beast's charge carried them over with the worg landing firmly on top of Squall. They crashed to the ground, the worg a dead weight on Squall's frame.
Pushing the bloody creature off of him brought more grunts of pain as the torn flesh of his shoulder began to spurt bright red blood.
Dislodging his sword from the carcass, he gazed around at the pack. They began to snarl viciously, snapping jaws and pawing the ground. They would all spring at once, he knew, and he would be torn to pieces.
The last of his strength gone, his breath came in ragged gasps. He had gone so far beyond pain all he felt now was hollow, empty. He could let them take him. It would be over fast, and he could finally rest. He fell to his knees to wait for the end blow.
All at once, the sky became black as night. Dark lightning flashed in the clouds above. Streaks of black fire struck the ground all around Squall, blasting earth, snow and worg all around in a mad frenzy. In the eye of the storm Squall knelt, as the monsters were blown apart by black energy from the sky. Bright spots of violet burned into his vision as lightning strike after lightning strike fell to the ground.
Dark energy crackled around the atmosphere as a shape emerged from the low-hanging clouds. It lowered slowly into view, drifting down on leathery black wings. Coming into view, Squall could make out its shape. It wore the body of a man, although with talons on hands and feet, and the head and mane of a lion.
Squall had seen this creature only once before, but had seen its image everyday of his life. It was the same image that was currently draped around his neck, and on the finger of his left hand.
Griever.
As the beast floated above Squall, black lightning crackled around its frame, its mane swirling in the dark energies as its leathery wings beat the wind.
Squall could only stare at the greatest of Guardian Forces. What was it doing here now, in the present? The last he had seen this great creature it had been junctioned to the sorceress at the end of time, Ultimecia. She had been defeated in that far off time and place, and he had thought Griever had simply returned to the aether that all GF's come from.
Time seemed to slow around him as thunder echoed in his mind, and another voice broke into his thoughts.
'You cannot die here Lionheart,' the voice rang with the sound of a hundred cannons firing. 'You must prepare for the King's return, for his coming signals the doom of your world.'
"Who is this King? How can I hope stop something so powerful? Why me!?!" Squall shouted the questions up at the great beast, but even before the last word was out of his mouth, the creature was already fading into mist.
Watching as Griever melted into the very air around him, time resumed its normal flow.
The sky returned slowly to the lazy grey cloud cover that had prevailed all morning. Snow fell idly once more, no longer swirling violently, more content just to fall and settle as a blanket on the landscape.
Squall stared around in amazement, taking in the scene of carnage.
Charred pieces of worg lay scattered everywhere. The earth was blown apart in great holes, chunks of ground flung into the air to settle around the clearing.
Pain began to settle once more on Squall like an old blanket. Blood ran in rivulets from his shoulder and side, soaking his tattered clothes and the snow around him. Slumping down from exhaustion, he could no longer struggle to keep from succumbing to the darkness. As blackness engulfed his vision, his head came to rest in the cold, freshly fallen flakes, and he wondered if this was the last time he would have to lie in crimson snow.
