AN: Whew, now I can appease my muses and write this chpt :)
Book Two of the Sorcerer Arc Death's Angel Chapter Eleven The Dark Tower
The tower loomed over the bleak Centra landscape. Once, what seemed an eternity ago, it had been a lighthouse on the Cape of Good Hope. Once, there had been an orphanage there, and a meadow of flowers that seemed to go on forever. Now there was only the tower, taller than the lighthouse had ever been, it's foundations stretching over the orphanage ruins and bringing a harsh end to the flower field.
It wasn't a sight to inspire awe, or wonder, although it was wondrous enough to do so - under different circumstances. The strange greyish material it was made of seemed to exude an aura of menace, and the plants within 100 feet had all wilted in fear. Had anything dared to creep into its shadow, where the sun never dared glance, and the air was cold enough to freeze tears as they fell, it would have discovered that the tower was also exuding a strange oily coating. But nothing dared - and nothing discovered.
Its commanding view of the surrounding land only made the door - small in comparison to the tower's height - seem more menacing. An open challenge for her enemies to come before her. Or for her friends...
When Seifer had arrived in the situation room after Edea's abrupt end to the conversation, he found Squall busy making adjustments to the landscape map that the technician had produced. Rather than altering the surface, he was describing - in considerable detail - a complex network of tunnels running beneath the island.
The caves had been there long before the tower had existed, long before even the lighthouse existed, but there was a feel to them - in places - that revealed them as being constructs, deliberately built by a long extinct civilisation. There had been later alterations too, where the tunnels were clearly that. These were the adaptations that had been made when the lighthouse had been built - an underground route, safe from the raging waves and wind of the fiercest of the Cape's storms, between the lighthouse and the house on the mainland. Still later alterations - for the lighthouse, or a lighthouse, had existed on the Cape for millennia - were clearly from the sorceress/sorcerer wars. Deadfalls and other traps marked with vivid red warning symbols where they were still active, blue where they had been triggered or neutralised.
'What happened there?' He'd queried, pointing to an area with many more blue marks than red - near the impact point of the first Lunar cry.
'Their last stand.' Squall had replied tonelessly.
The last stand of the sorcerers on the Southern Isle. Squall's memories of what had happened were vague, since his particular line hadn't been directly involved. In a way Seifer was glad. The sorcerers involved had been stripped of their powers and their lives, their lines ended permanently - probably by the same force that had started them. If Squall hadn't been the last sorcerer, then who would? Someone, he was sure, nowhere near as qualified for the trials the brunette had faced.
Edea had never known the extent of the tunnels - or their many dangers - but the children in her care had inevitably gravitated to them. Still, if it was a measure of bravery to camp out in the caves closest to the beach, childish senses, as yet undulled by adult cynicism, were sensitive to the aura exuded by the magical traps further in. No one ever ventured beyond the point where the light of the outside never reached. No one except Squall. Innate curiosity, and perhaps a sense of familiarity from the magic of the traps, had drawn him deeper into the caverns than anyone else had ever gone. Without knowing - then - he'd avoided both magical and mundane traps as he travelled, some part of his subconscious mind making a note of each. It was there he'd seen his first dead person. As he thought. Now he knew otherwise - not that the otherwise was less pleasant.
His experiences in the tunnels had changed something, some awareness of himself deep on the subconscious level. Still too young to know what his future held, he had nonetheless realised that he would have to be strong enough to make decisions that might set him against those close to him. Ellone's sudden departure had only seemed to confirm it.
Seifer stumbled and bit back another curse as he tripped for what must have been the hundredth time. The caves leading to the 'secret' back entrance of Kylari's tower were cold and damp, the walls slimy with a thick layer of fungi and moss. To his chagrin neither the fungi nor the moss were luminous, although he was relieved to find that there were no convenient torches indicating the route was known.
Squall, on the other hand, was having no difficulties seeing where he was going, thanks to perfect darkvision. That fact only made it worse, especially since he'd explained that any other light sources were out because some of the traps would be triggered by them. Further insult had been added when the brunette had turned without warning, and scooped him into his arms, ignoring the blond's outraged cry of surprise and indignity. Fortunately, although he'd felt the smaller man's amusement quite clearly, the sorcerer had restrained himself, only explaining that some traps would trigger on contact with a non-sorcerer. Seifer wasn't sure how far he'd actually been carried - it felt like forever thanks to his embarrassment - but eventually he'd been set back on his feet.
Secretly though, he thought it had been rather nice - both to be within Squall's protective embrace, and not to be falling over every few seconds. If Squall heard the thought, he gave no sign.
The caves were drier now, and a faint blue glow emanating from somewhere ahead meant that Seifer could see the larger projections he'd been falling over in the darkness. Of course, there was Squall's shadow to contend with, so he was still concentrating enough on the ground that he almost collided with the brunette when he stopped abruptly. The blue light was stronger here, indicating they'd found its source, and Seifer stepped to his sorcerer's side, ready for anything.
Anything, that is, except what he saw.
It could have been amber, if amber was blue and glowed. It might also have been crystal, if it was faceted and cold. But whatever the material was, it was smooth and opalescent, and as well as light it gave off a faint warmth.
"What...?" Seifer muttered, gaping at the stuff.
"Solidified air." Squall answered. "A stasis trap." He was extremely still, tense, as though waiting for something to happen. "They expected to return and relocate those trapped, in all likelihood. But they were killed instead, and those trapped have remained in stasis since then."
"Uh...I don't see anyone..." It dawned on Seifer why Squall was so tense. "Shit. Someone freed them?" Squall nodded slightly. A shiver ran down Seifer's spine.
"They would have been conscious of time passing - they're probably quite insane by now. But they'll still remember their purpose." Anger was starting to creep into the brunette's voice. Anger and...hatred?
"They were Kenthra." Seifer realised. "Well, we shouldn't find it too hard to find them. Just find the people referring to places by names no one's heard in millennia." Instantly he knew he'd been too glib. Squall literally snarled.
"They're murdering bastards!" The brunette hissed furiously. "They weren't content with killing sorcerers - they wanted anyone with any sort of link to us annihilated! They're the reason I'm the last!" Eyes blazing - despite the pendant - Squall almost howled the last words. Seifer winced, but Squall seemed to shake off the fury as quickly as it had come. With a last glare at the emptied trap, the brunette spun on his heel and stalked away into the darkness once more.
Quistis huddled over the still and bloody form of Zell. She held him to her chest, rocking slowly, almost as though trying to pass her own life into his battered body. Kylari had been quick to take advantage of their relationship. After all, what husband could stand by and watch his wife tortured within an inch of her life without begging for it to be done to him instead? Only, Kylari hadn't done it instead. She had done it as well, and taken pleasure in it. What she hadn't counted on was the unexpected protection their unconditional love for each other gave them. In face, Zell and Quistis had taken a great deal of strength from discovering that the hideous wraith the sorceress had summoned to rape Quistis, couldn't get near her because their love was too strong.
Kylari, on the other hand, had not been impressed. She had taken it out repeatedly in physical torture that neither SeeD could have imagined, but fortunately had declined to take their degradation into her own, physical, hands. There had been a moment of fear that she might get one of her human underlings involved, but that had, thankfully, passed. Finally seeming to tire of asking the same questions, and getting the same answers, she had crushed Zell's chest, leaving it a mass of splintered bone and lung, and then teleported them both into a cell somewhere in the tower.
Neither of them had much hope of rescue. They had seen first hand how powerful the new enemy was - although Rinoa's comment about Deling city still didn't make sense - and Squall's theory that Ultemecia had been manipulated by Kylari now rang true in their minds. They had the faint hope that their locators were still active, but unless someone had seen the switch in location as it happened, and if the signal could even penetrate the tower's walls, they were as good as lost. Either way, Quistis doubted Zell would last long enough for a rescue to reach them before his wounds were too critical to heal.
She winced as he drew in another harsh breath, hearing the blood from his punctured lungs gurgling in his throat. Sobbing quietly, Quistis curled herself tighter around her husband, whispering broken nothings into his ear. There was no indication that Zell had heard, only the faint rattle as he fought to stay alive.
They had, to Seifer's relief, finally made it out of the tunnels and their uneven floors, and into the tower. There was sporadic lighting here, a spluttering torch in a rusted bracket every few metres. It was all very old, despite having only been built recently, and almost screamed 'dungeon'. High tech or low tech, old or new, dungeons seemed to exude an aura of despair even as they were created. A foreshadow of the misery to come. It was particularly strong here.
Surprisingly though, there seemed to be no occupants. The cells that they had passed so far had the atmosphere, but not the content. Seifer couldn't say that it was a bad thing, but it was slightly disconcerting. There was a part of his mind that was psyching itself up to see some poor wretch glaring out accusingly as they walked past, and despite the relief he felt when a cell was revealed as empty, there was always the uncomfortable thought of why that might be.
Seifer shivered, feeling a cold draft pass through him. Once he might have simply put it down to a sixth sense warning him of danger, but since becoming Squall's knight it had taken on a more sinister meaning. A dead spirit had just walked through him. The dead were being drawn to this place of misery and death like moths to a flame. They couldn't help it. In the brief instant between life and death, the already dead could, for a fraction of a second, touch life once more. Unfortunately, depending on the circumstances of death and the strength of will of the dying, such a touch could result in the soul of the dying failing to reach the land of the dead. That was, Irvine had patiently explained, how ghosts and other less pleasant things were brought into existence. Fortunately the dead couldn't see when things would die until it was a certainty - right at the last minute - so most people died without ever knowing the danger they'd been in until they were safe.
The blond leaped forwards between Squall and a cell, drawing Hyperion as something launched itself at the small, barred window. It scrabbled desperately at the rusted iron, and the dark bloodstains that already coated the metal and wood slowly reddened as new blood flowed over it. Seifer took a hasty step back, almost colliding with Squall, but stopped in morbid fascination as flashes of white became visible from the franticly scratching finger.
"Bone." Seifer felt his stomach lurch at Squall's explanation. The creature also froze.
"Oinne?" It seemed to be trying to repeat the word, but something was seriously wrong with its voice. Seifer couldn't see what, since it's head and face were concealed by tattered scraps of blanket. "Haurl?" Seifer found himself gently but firmly moved to one side as Squall stepped closer to the cell.
"You know me..." Seifer could hear the frown in Squall's voice. "Martine?" The blond gaped. This was Martine? The Galbadian Headmaster who'd thwarted Ultemecia's plans for the Galbadian SeeDs by stalling long enough to evacuate, and then surrendering? The creature was wailing, an eerie, piercing noise that rose and fell like a siren. There were words in there somewhere, but Seifer couldn't make out what they were - he guessed Squall was reading the surface thoughts of the Galbadian in order to understand. Finally the brunette stepped back.
"And?" Seifer queried, carefully not looking in Martine's direction.
"She's trying to find out SeeD's true purpose." Squall was already frowning in confusion. "She must have thought he knew."
"But why?" Seifer wondered aloud. Ultemecia had been set on learning the same thing, the reason she had forced him to torture Squall - in the mistaken belief that those sent after her were bound to know all the secrets of SeeD. "And how did that myth start?" Squall shrugged, still lost in thought.
"We reinstated him after Ultemecia's defeat, so she must have thought we had no choice because of what he knew. But we made his actions a matter of public record, and if she was manipulating Ultemecia then she'd know that what we said was true." Martine wailed from behind Squall, and the brunette nodded. "Yes, I know. Stand back." The creature obediently shuffled backwards. "Seifer, knock a couple of those iron bars into the cell." Frowning in confusion, the blond obediently did so, hearing grateful wail as one of the bars clattered to the floor of the cell.
"Why...?" Seifer queried as they hurried away from Martine's cell.
"What she did to him..." Squall shuddered slightly, and tightened his grip on Lionheart. "The only thing that can kill him is iron. She left him that much - but she also left him with the means to kill himself just out of reach. Forever." It was Seifer's turn to shudder. Eternity in that cell, with iron bars so close - but so far...
They both froze as the sound of Quistis quietly sobbing reached their ears. Quistis didn't break easily, which meant something was seriously wrong.
"Zell..." They spoke simultaneously, but when Seifer moved to head straight for the source, he found himself restrained by Squall. The brunette shook his head slowly, looking as though he was listening to something else.
"There's something guarding them. Something not quite here..." Seifer frowned. "Not quite alive, but not quite dead either." Squall clarified. If anything Seifer's confusion deepened. Squall sighed. "Just, be wary."
With a stern glare to reinforce his words, Squall led the way forwards. Seifer was about to protest that as a knight it was his duty to take point, when he noticed that Lionheart's glow was somehow muted. On closer examination the blond realised that Squall was drawing some of the blade's energy into himself, forming a shield of sorts. Since he had no such protection unless Squall openly used his magic - he guessed shells and protects weren't going to cut it here - it made sense for the brunette to go first. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
The sobbing was closer now, but Seifer could sense whatever Squall had noticed earlier. It was something dangerous, and magical... And it was very close...
The nether-ghoul had sensed the two long before they'd sensed it, but then its senses were sharpened by its hunger, and its eagerness to finish feeding and assume a mortal form. It longed to stalk the world without restriction once more, to know again the feeling of flesh, and the adrenaline rush of the hunt and kill. But it was dimly aware that, in the predator/prey scheme of things, itself and the two forms approaching were equally ranked. Normally, had it not been under a magical geas, it would have ceded the field to the two and searched for easier prey, but as circumstances were...
Two things happened at the same instant. The nether-ghoul leapt at Squall from around the corner, and Quistis realised that Zell had stopped breathing.
Only faintly visible, the nether-ghoul crashed into Squall and knocked him to the ground before either he or Seifer registered the shape flying through the air. Fortunately for Squall, the weak shield of Lionheart's energy was enough to block the effects of the casual contact. Unfortunately, the ghoul was too indistinct, and too close to him for Seifer to make a clean strike.
In the stunned pause where the nether-ghoul registered that it had failed to drain its prey's life, and Seifer cursed his inability to see it, Quistis screamed...
Its senses far exceeding the sensitivity of even a sorcerer's, the scream caused the nether-ghoul's muscles snap taut as it flung itself skywards in instinctive self-defence. Unfortunately for it, whilst the tactics might have saved it in its home dimension, here it came down onto a waiting Lionheart, impaling itself through the chest just as Seifer's vague but determined strike severed its head.
The corpse shimmered and vanished as Seifer helped Squall back to his feet.
At the sound of heartfelt sobs, both SeeDs dashed around the next corner towards the cell where the noise was coming from. Squall didn't pause, grabbing Seifer's hand and dragging him headlong towards the closed and locked door. Seifer closed his eyes, having seen the iron bars at around head height, and waited for the impact...
When all he felt was a chill and then Squall forcing him to stop, the blond gingerly opened his eyes. And blinked in shock. They were inside the cell with Quistis and Zell, apparently having passed through iron bars - which should have been impervious to whatever magic Squall had cast. But there was no time for questions. Zell was clearly in trouble. A push at his shoulder sent Seifer stumbling towards the door again, and Squall made an unlocking motion when he looked up in confusion. Of course, the blond realised vaguely, couldn't have Quistis wondering how the hell they got in.
Turning towards the door, he fished the lock-picks from his coat pocket and set to work on the old lock.
AN: hmm, so... the nether-ghoul dead, Zell nearly dead, Seifer covering up for Squall... still, at least my muses are now cooperating with me :)