CHAPTER V
CHOICES OF THE HEART AND MIND
Darkness had gone, and the bright morning sun had replaced the moon and stars when at last he sighted his village once again. He could see the children playing on the piers, and fishing boats in the distance. For all accounts, it was as though nothing had happened out of the ordinary. A simple place wherein people led a simple life; that is what he loved about his world. Or what he had thought to be his world. Things were no longer the same. His legs felt quite strained from the long run, and so he now slowed his place to a saunter as he came into the verge of the village.
In truth, he gave little heed to whatever pains afflicted his body; he knew that more pressing matters were now at hand. He did not have long to make a choice, one that would be both a blessing and a curse either way. And it was for this reason, among others, that he sought Leena out first of all.
Coming to the beach, he found her gone home but several minutes before. Those present there were joyful to see him safe, yet he did not stay to recount the events that had transpired. He had not the time and, moreover, the happenings were too strange. Who would take him at his word?
He climbed the wooden steps to Leena's house with more than a little uncertainty resting upon him. Truly, Leena would be the first to trust him. And yet it seemed too much to ask even of her usual steadfastness. He much doubted that her friendship could bring her to blindly trust his word about these things: things of seeming fantasy beyond the ken of village people.
When at last he summoned the will to enter he found Leena was sitting in her room, facing out to sea. Yet even from behind where he could not see her face he could read her mood as solemn, worried and sorrowful. Certainly it was over him, and at once this warmed his heart, and made it all the easier to speak.
"Leena?" he said gently, not wishing to startle her too violently from her thoughts, which seemed to cloud the very room.
She turned face to him in a heartbeat, the anxiousness falling from her countenance in a moment.
"You're all right!" she cried with her first words, relief plain.
"Yeah. Well, in a way," Serge said brokenly, touched that she had been so anxious over his safe return, yet fully realizing that he was not nearly as well off as he might be.
"You didn't worry, did you? I told you not to," he said, attempting to lighten their moods.
She fixed a scolding eye on him, yet still unable to hide her joy over his sudden return.
"Of course I did! What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't?"
He smiled at her indignation, whilst she stood and frowned.
"I couldn't even get any sleep," she continued. "But that's not important, I suppose. You're back, obviously not under arrest anymore. Things are fine."
But inwardly Serge felt far less than fine. Those hopeful words made explaining everything all the more difficult. Seeing him well had put such reassurance upon Leena that it would be difficult on her to convince her otherwise.
But then another thought occurred to Serge: perhaps that was not truly necessary. Maybe no one but he ever needed to know of the past, such as it was. He could well refuse the summons laid upon him, and everything would return to the way it was before, just as Schala had said it may.
But then Leena continued and he saw that would be difficult, perhaps near impossible. For as her sudden relief abated from her, and she calmed in mood, her countenance became more stern and questioning, as was her wont when she willed something.
"But now, what about your promise?" she asked, and he sensed a certain resolution in her voice, a will that he had long ago learned not to trifle with.
"What promise?" he asked, but even as he spoke the words he knew her answer. Her memory was as sharp as it had ever been, he noted with slight vexation.
"To tell me what was going on. To tell me what happened to you. I don't forget that easily."
"Ah, yes. That," he replied with a certain discomfort. It was all he could reply then, for he now felt constrained to give the truth. And this was not something he much wanted to do, for it was no trifle to explain. And yet Leena's will in this he would not gainsay. She had a right to know, whether she believed him or not. Come what may, he would tell her.
"It's somewhat complicated," he began, unsure as where to begin. The webs of time that had transpired made finding the correct starting point most difficult.
"Try!" she stated resolutely, and with a hint of anger.
"All right," he said, resigning himself at last to speak of it. "Do you remember when we were at Opassa beach, a few months back?"
"You mean when you passed out? Look, there's no point in going back that far. I know it still bothers you, but what does that have to do with whatever happened yesterday?"
"It's where everything began..." he said uncertainly, but she spoke before he could say any more, with a certain impatience in her voice.
"Everything, what? Serge, I know what we said then, and I really believe what you said, but I don't think this is how we meant to look back on that day."
He shook his head.
"No, I don't mean that. I still mean what I said then," he added hastily, not wishing to belittle what she, likely, took most seriously. For she had recalled to him a vow of friendship they had made as small children. He felt that she had wanted to perhaps speak of something closer to her heart, yet she had never the chance for he had slipped unconscious before her eyes before much more could be said. And so he never heard whatever she had meant to discuss on that day, though he had often wondered and had faint suspicions. Therefore, cautious now of his words, he continued:
"Well, I didn't just faint. There was a lot more than that," he said, fixing a serious look upon her and hoping his earnestness might somehow avail him in earning her acceptance of what he was about to say.
"When I woke up, I asked about what happened to Terra Tower, and to FATE, right?"
She nodded.
"Right," she said, curiously, "but that doesn't mean anything, does it?"
She said the last almost hopefully, as if she feared what he might say, though she had no true way of knowing what it meant. But he nodded, smiling inwardly at what an understatement her words were.
"I didn't just blank out. I fell, or was pulled, maybe, into another world."
"Serge!" she cried in annoyance. "If you're not going tell me the truth, just leave."
He could well tell she was angered at what she clearly saw as a lie.
"Hear me out, okay? For all our friendship, let me finish. Trust me. Every word, no matter how strange, is true."
Still frustrated, yet yielding, she nodded.
"Oh, all right. But, I warn you. If you make up stories to get around telling me, I'm not talking to you for a very long time."
He began once more, cautious now of her rising temper.
"I didn't realize that I had been taken to another world at first. It was in most things identical to what this one is. I ran home, straight to you. But, what shocked me more than anything else could have is that you didn't recognize me."
He continued quickly, breaking between the words of protest she gave.
"Because I was dead there. That was one of the differences. In that world, I died ten years ago. Remember, when I almost drowned as a kid, but a stranger rescued me? Well in that world, I did die. But the worst was yet to come because, while I was lost in that world, I was being chased..."
And he told her of all that had happened. Of his adventures, his defeats and victories alike. Of his eventual return to his home world, and his crossing between them at will in order to amend the evils of the past. At last he told her how he had saved princess Schala from the Tesseract, and ended with the events that had chanced only the last day. All the while she listened quietly, with more patience than Serge would ever have accounted to her. Not until he came to the end did she finally reply.
"Serge, if it wasn't you, you know I would not have even listened, right?" she said.
He nodded, but fearing her response to be disbelief. And in this, they were realized.
"But, you want me to...to believe that?" she said disdainfully. "That's even more far-fetched than the fairy stories I tell the kids!"
He sighed, gravely disappointed, yet understanding her disbelief.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right, Leena. It was too much to ask of you."
And, having said this, he turned sullenly to leave.
Curses! He had hoped beyond reason that she, at least, he could sway to believe him as to the truth. Naive, indeed, he now saw. Perhaps it was best to simply depart from his village without any leave, and take company with those few who knew his true self. He would most certainly look regretfully on it later, he knew. But what was his place in this village now? A fisherman? He could not be that again. He was not who everyone thought he was: a simple fisherboy living a simple life. And he could never feel the peace he had once known, now being resolved as to his true nature. How could he, after all, live two lives: in action as the one he had been, but with his heart being that of another? He felt it would gnaw at his mind more harshly than his dreams had done, despite what Schala had said and, moreover, his hero's will felt drawn towards aiding Crono. With a mind weighed in grief over his failure to persuade Leena, and feeling that by his words he had lost her trust forever, he sullenly made to leave her house.
He thought that perhaps things would be better when he was once more upon the open road, for it seemed to him that that, only, remained to him. The village he had so long called home held nothing but a shadow of his former life, and one that he could never return to. Silently he cursed the day he had been ordained to be a hero. For, whatever good may have been done by his hands, it seemed that all it had now brought him was to be separated from those and that which he loved best.
Yet, even as he stepped outdoors she called to him, halting him in his tracks.
"Serge, wait!" she said, and her words became uncertain. "Maybe I was a little unfair to say it like that."
And at once he turned back, a glimmer of hope returning and the shadows that had been gathering upon his mind departing like smoke before a gust of wind. She looked as uncertain as he had ever seen her, yet, to his surprise and joy, there was not the least sign of anger.
"I know it seems strange," she began with stammered words, "but, well, here you are! You were taken to Termina. Crono is real, I saw him myself, after all," she continued, her words speaking the confused thoughts of her mind. She paused for a while, at last saying: "Yes, I believe you. Or I want to. I just can't bring my mind to."
He nodded, for it had been even so for him the night before, when Janus had first spoken to him. But even then another thought came to him: with her name and voice, Schala had broken the spell that had chained him memory. And Leena, too, had a seal on hers. Though she had not joined him on his quests and ventures, she had known of his comings and goings at that time. What better way to prove the truth of his words than by recalling to her her own memory of the past, as had been done for him? A seal only needed be broken, perhaps.
"Maybe your heart can convince your mind," he muttered, half to himself, and closed his eyes in thought. Perhaps, small though the chance was, if she saw his sorcery that he had once used with such ease, her memory would return. In no wise had she seen magic before, save in those times, and so in seeing a hint of the true past, her memory might fully return. He held his arm stretched out, palm upward, toward Leena.
In his hand a small light welled up, as if a star had been born on his very palm. It shimmered bright and pure, though no more than a pebble. He opened his eyes, and looked across at Leena. She stood entranced, staring with wonder at the light.
"Magic? How can you do that?" she stammered, in complete amazement.
In her eyes the light danced, enthralling her gaze and capturing her mind.
Slowly, as one in a trance, she spoke:
"The Chrono Cross...the songs of all the world combined in perfect harmony...go, do what you have to do, I'll be waiting for you..." she trailed off as the light in Serge's hand waned to nothing. Yet still her eyes remained fixed, and only with effort, it seemed, she raised them to his, as one awaking from a deep sleep.
"Leena?" Serge asked, hoping that his wish had been true, and she had now retrieved at least some memory that had been hers. Indeed, the words she had spoken but a moment before had been her last parting words to him before he had set off for the Tesseract to free Schala.
"Serge?" she clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a startled shout. "I remember now, I really do."
"Everything?" Serge asked cautiously.
"Mostly, I think," she said, amazement mastering her voice. "I remember you running around, coming back only every few days. Searching for the Dead Sea for some reason. Taking off to Terra Tower to fight the, what did you call them? Oh, I can't remember, but it doesn't matter. And of course that last time we spoke, before you left for the Tesseract. How could I have forgotten all of that?"
"Magic and ancient powers, Leena. The princess Schala sealed all of our memories, my own included. But I guess, since I was the one who did the most, mine were just too powerful to be kept hidden. And so they haunted my dreams, like you know. But it's all better now. I remember, and so do you."
But now he looked on her with new concern, wondering if it was best to ask her yet of leave for his departing. She had only now regained her true self, and now he wished to leave for some new adventure. A fool's quest some might call it: to aid two strangers and a one time companion make war against the mightiest empire in the world. And he had no guarantee of ever returning from it and, indeed, the chance was not small that his own death lay upon this path. At that thought he felt a slight fear, but quelled it as a coward's feeling.
But for now he needed make a choice, whether to go or stay, and if he chose to depart, he would first ask his leave of Leena. His innermost being told him that to shy from helping Crono would be would be a selfish thing, brought upon only by fear. And so he felt constrained to leave, and needed so ask his friend's permission to depart. But as the moments of silence passed between them, he felt that doing so was becoming far more difficult.
But he knew the truth of it all too well.
As much as he wished to delay asking such a question, time was pressing upon him, and waiting would not avail him in any way. And of all those whom he knew, it was Leena's wishes that he would most respect in this matter.
"Leena, I need to ask you something," he said unsurely.
She frowned, seeing his uncertainty.
"Yes?" she asked carefully, fearing what he was to ask.
"I have to go. I need to ask you if I can leave."
Misunderstanding the intent of his words she laughed, amused and relieved.
"Go? You have to ask me if you can go? Well, the door is right there," she said, looking in that direction. "We were just starting to talk, but if you really want to, I'm not going to stop you from going."
He shook his head, and sighed.
"No, I don't mean leave and come back later. I mean leave," he paused, not wanting to speak such words as he knew he must, "for a long time. I have to leave El Nido, and go to the mainland."
"What? How long?" she asked suspiciously, dreading the reply that was sure to come.
"A few months," he said plainly. "Sorry, Leena!" he cried, breaking quickly into her protesting words. "I don't want to. But, Crono needs my help."
"Yeah, and the princess Schala, too, I bet!" she returned, perhaps with a hint of jealousy, not taking the unexpected news well.
"Kid? She too, I guess," he muttered awkwardly. Schala was his best of friends, and so she had always been.
"But what else should I do? Just tell him, 'well, I can help, but I need to tend to my fish'?" he answered.
"Well, what about me? There's more here than your fishing, you know!" she answered in anger, annoyed that she had been seemingly overlooked in his deliberations (though this was most certainly not the case.)
"If you don't want me to go, I won't," he said sincerely. And he truly meant it as he said it. He held Leena as the one to make this choice for him, for he did not wish to cross her or cause her any grief.
And in this sudden thing Leena was surprised. She had hardly thought that he would be seeking her counsel on such a matter, and it caused her no small amount of uncertainty for a moment.
"You wouldn't go, if I asked you not to?" she asked.
He shook his head, and she in return sighed.
"Well, I admit, this makes things hard," she said with a hint of uncertainty upon her tone. She turned her eyes from him, peering out to sea. "No. I don't want you to go. I want you here, as you've always been. But also, that's very selfish of me, isn't it? You're a great hero."
"Not really a hero, Leena. Heroes are only the people that are remembered. No one remembers a thing that I did."
"I do," she said turning back to him, bringing a sharp end to his argument. "My Serge, the great hero of the world. If you think it's funny for you, it's even stranger for me."
She turned back to the window.
"Go. Just come back to me," she said, though it seemed with almost stifled tears that the words came from her mouth.
And now it was his turn to feel misplaced. Just as she had not thought him to so willfully yield to her, he had not anticipated she giving him her leave so suddenly. There was neither the anger nor vexation that he had expected. Only sadness.
"Well, of course I'm coming back, sometime," he said, hoping that his words would be proven true.
She turned about, her countenance in no measure pleasant.
"How do you know? Can you honestly tell me there is no way you might die out there?"
He shook his head. As Schala said, he had no guarantee of anything. Except, perhaps, the loyalty of friends. And, as a friend, Leena was now telling him he might go. Yet he saw another part of her did not wish him to leave, and was in fear over his safety.
"I might," he said, finding it strange to be speaking so lightly of his own death. "But lot's more will die if I don't."
She shook her head.
"Of course. But that will not make it better for me if you die."
She paused, and Serge did not reply, for he saw that in her mind she was contemplating the counsel she would give him. At last she spoke.
"Go, Serge. I don't want you to, you know. But, no matter what I want, you have to. If you don't, nobody else will, or can, I suppose. I'll worry about you every day until you come home, you know, just like last time. I probably won't get any sleep," she laughed weakly. "But, this is the sort of thing you were born to do, I guess."
Born to do, Serge thought. Perhaps it was. Leena, though she wished him to stay, saw beyond it to the need that called out for him. If she could allow him to go in spite of her unyielding will, then he, too, would cast aside his worries and step once more upon the path of daring adventure.
He wordlessly nodded his thanks to Leena, who he saw stifled some slight tears at all that had so quickly come between them. And so he left her to her own thoughts, having other duties to tend to before leaving.
For now another necessity was presented before him. Having been now resolved to go upon the quest by the one he cared for most, he now was constrained through honour and propriety to ask for leave from the leader of his village. The Chief Radius was in most respects a pleasant and kindly old man, and yet Serge did not see him readily granting leave to one he saw as only a small child.
----
"...so you see, they've come far asking for my help. Shouldn't I help them?" Serge asked, apprehensive of the coming response.
But he had said nothing of magic, nor of his high past that had been revealed to him. Only to Leena had he spoken of those things, and between them he wished it to remain.
Radius looked at him shaking his head, and said in a grave voice:
"Serge, child, you are so very young. There is much you must yet learn before you become a man. Are you so sure of these things that you tell me: That for some reason they require your help especially?"
Serge nodded in affirmation.
"Without a doubt," he said.
"Serge," Radius said gravely. "There are many things in this world that you know nothing of. Things of immense power, for both good and evil. Few there are that have seen the things I have in my long years. I cannot expect a young man such as you to even begin to comprehend such things."
He sighed, and a pained look crossed his features.
"Oh, I understand," Serge began thoughtlessly, but stopped as Radius gave him a bitter and condescending glance.
"Understand?" he muttered. "You are but seventeen, a boy fisherman who has seen in his life only a corner of this single isle, which itself is only a corner of the vast world. No, you cannot understand the ways of the world. Such knowledge and wisdom is found in the living of years and in the losing of dear things."
Serge looked at the man in thought, and inwardly he smiled sadly, understanding only too well. He had fought things that would have quailed the hearts of the bravest warriors, and outlived them, most often through the shedding of his own blood. He had looked upon the darkest secrets of the past, faced ancient demons, and seen the brightest mysteries of the future. And yet another thing that Radius did not know, or, rather, did not remember: in many battles he had stood by Serge's side, and had been both a steadfast comrade and wise in sage counsel.
"Perhaps, despite your knowledge, there is more then even you know to this world..." Serge said, but trailed off. His words, though true, were on the verge of disrespect. Radius saw this, and frowned at him bitterly, saying:
"And you claim have discovered its truths? That is one of the failings of youth. You are young, naive, and do not know what sorrow lies in this world."
Had he not? He had seen his friend Kid struck through with her own dagger, whilst he had stood unable to aid her. At these words of rebuke Serge could feel his heart well up in slight anger, but he checked himself, and guarded his words.
"I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. But," he closed his eyes and sighed. He did not wish to explain all to Radius. His own memory, and that of Leena, had been restored, but he did not think it would be so light a thing with Radius'.
"The world is not all filled with sorrow, master Radius. I know not only what it's like to know pain, but love, too. I'm not as young in my mind as you think I am. These people I told you about..."
Radius stood, and shook his head in anger.
"You have asked for my leave, Serge, but I cannot give it to you. You lack both the power and the wisdom to set out on your own."
And with those words the elder strode for the door of his house. Serge did not turn to watch him go, but stared sightlessly forward. In his heart he was angered by these words that sought to constrain him. Leena had granted him her goodwill in his leaving, and in so doing had sealed his choice. But now the one whom he had thought far easier to sway was the one that stood barring the door to his path. The secrets of things high and base, of Radius himself, burned within him, yearning to be spoken, so at once he made his mind to tell his chief all these things. And if even then he would not grant Serge his parting grace, he would leave without it. The goodwill of Leena was what he had most cared for, as it was.
So even as Radius crossed the threshold, Serge called out to him once more, not turning from where he sat.
"Don't let the past haunt you. It was the evil in the Masamune, not you, that killed Lord Garai."
These words found their mark precisely. The footsteps halted at once, and Serge could well imagine the surprise upon the old man's face. For the words he had just spoken were of the man's darkest secrets which he had revealed to no one in memory.
"What was that, Serge?" Radius gasped, returning to the room.
Serge stood and turned to face the ashen-faced man.
"That ancient sword was filled with evil. But it's been atoned for, and neither of his sons will want their vengeance on you, master Radius, once a chief Captain of the Acacia Dragoons."
The man shook his head in profound disbelief.
"What do you know of those matters?! How come you to this knowledge?"
Then Serge laughed. For a moment, he was himself again. The one who had fought so many battles, and seen so very much of the world. The calm young warrior, fiery of heart, who had passed dimensions and defied the evil shadow of Lavos. The one whom some called a hero. Not the disquieted fisherboy he had been the day before. The flame had returned to his spirit. For now, he was master of his life once again.
And for that he smiled.
And he told everything that he could remember. Of the battles he had fought; of Lavos; and of the Masamune. When all was ended the chief stood long in silence. Indeed, he would not have believed a word of the tales, but Serge knew far too much of his past for him to doubt it. For, though his memory remained sealed, no living person, save one such as Serge now professed to be, could have known these things. At length Radius spoke again, his voice filled with concern.
"I must say, this is hardly what I would ever have expected. And yet, I cannot doubt its truth. And, as for you, Serge, I am most amazed. In truth I find it all very hard to comprehend but, perhaps this is not mine to unravel. But I see at least where my place in this is now. When I look at you, I hardly see that little fisherboy I have known so well through his entire life. I can see it in your eyes: a wisdom and a power I have only found in my peers. So, very well, Serge. If you desire to leave this village, you may do so with my blessing."
And with those words Serge's decision was made. For adventure, friendship, hope, and freedom, or whatever this quest was truly about, he would once more set out. By Leena's counsel his heart had been convinced, and by Radius' words he could leave the village in honour and goodwill. Yet, even so, he felt a slight nervousness begin to steal into his mind.
----
As the sun set upon that day, Serge was ready to leave. For the most part his farewells had been said to all that he knew. He now found himself hoping that they would not be final. Leena stood a short distance away, leaning against the wall of her house. She did not come to wish him off, nor did he go to her to say goodbye to her. To those one loves most, farewells need not be said with speech. And so he parted her company with not a word, only a final look gracing their parting. Her eyes told him all that he needed, far more than speech likely could, and they in that moment he remembered ever after, for long after much strife, and even until his death.
He slung his pack over his shoulder and made to leave. His mother and a few villagers watched him go, but for the most part his leaving was quiet and unnoticed. As he crossed out of the village, wondering as to where Crono would meet him, Radius took him aside.
His face stern, he looked at him as a father sending his child out to war. Concern written upon his face, he spoke to Serge.
"Serge, before you leave I must say some things to you. As a child of Arni, you are under my care. It is not with joy that I send you out of this trust, but I also know that you are old and wise enough to know what you do. And so I will speak to you what I may before you depart from this, your home," the old man paused, considering his words.
"It is often said of the old that they are wise, for indeed age lends experience and foresight. And this is often what wisdom is, a certain skill by which one may guess somewhat of the future. You are old beyond your years, and possess a wisdom of your own, but allow me to add to it what I may, before you leave us."
Serge felt slightly uncomfortable. Little heed had he ever had of other's wisdom, and he did not desire to be now whelmed in it. He found his heart fickle enough about his choice now as it was. Even so he was not willing to deny his chief his parting words, and so he listened in silence.
"First and foremost, I must admonish you to remember your place. Not that in this village you now leave, nor even that of your age, for indeed you are no longer a youth, as you appear to be. Your eyes speak much of this. But what I say is this: I warn you not to seek more power than is granted for you to possess. You are mighty, but you must not let this corrupt you. Bear your power with humility and service, and then those who know you will call you truly great. For true greatness is not in destruction, but in healing. When the sword fails to conquer, compassion oft victors. These things you know already, I am certain, and I but remind you of them."
Serge nodded.
"I've always remembered that. And I've never had ambitions for power as it is."
Radius nodded his head.
"So you say, and I believe you. You are noble and true of heart, as incorruptible a soul as can exist in this world. Yet fate may devise other trials, other tests of strength. Remain steadfast, remain true and, above all, trust in hope beyond your own strength. Though all be torn away from you, though your spirit be crushed in grief and despair, you must always remember to rise again, and trust to a better day ahead, and to the design of fate. For while to you power and ambition hold no temptation, I believe if you were to lose all that you hold dear, if your spirit were assailed and beaten with sorrow and loss, then I see your test shall come. And so I say to you: rise above it. For in the manner you struggle against this is how you shall be measured a man and hero. I pray that such a time may never befall you, and such a trial never come. And yet I see much toil in your future, and an uncertain end. Be prepared, in mind and body, for suffering, pain, yea, even death should it come for you."
"I'll try to remember that," Serge said, beginning to tire of the speech given to him. Radius smiled, seeing his impatience for a quick departure.
"But this path that you now follow you tread willingly, and with full knowledge of your peril. And so you are more a man than many that have been called kings, and more courageous than many that have been named heroes. And now, I see, the servants of fate come for you."
In the darkness beyond the furthest building he saw shadowy figures stir. They had come, and they awaited his answer.
"Farewell, Serge! In peace you leave, and in peace may you return," Radius called out to him from behind as he left.
Casting one last glance upon the old man, he made for the village edge. Certainly it was the three that awaited him there.
"So, what do you say, Serge?" Crono asked with urgency, keeping himself well hidden amongst the shadows.
"He's coming." Schala responded from another corner of the darkness before Serge could reply for himself, "Though he is not sure of his choice."
It was strange to Serge, hearing those words come from her. For to his eyes she was for all he could tell Kid, the one whom he had known. A fiery young girl, a cunning thief, yet the truest of friends. But in her voice he caught a sense of wisdom and power that he had never heard there before. Truly she was not simply Kid any longer, he thought with some sadness.
"You can tell that?"
She smiled.
"Most certainly. It is written in your eyes and upon your countenance."
Janus sighed impatiently, his form obscured completely by the darkness he hid himself in.
"My sister may feel we have time to bandy words like fools, but I know we do not. If you have indeed decided favourably, wonderful. Then let us leave, and with haste."
Crono frowned to him.
"Are we in danger?"
"Not presently. But we are hunted. I shall feel more comfortable in the unpeopled wilderness."
"Very well. Come now, Serge. Our boats are sheltered on the southeastern shores. By dawn we can reach them, if we hurry."
With a turn of his cloak, he disappeared into the dark forest beyond the buildings. Taking up stride beside Schala, Serge followed. And so began his journey to Guardia, and the many things that came after had their beginning in those first steps.
(Last Edited August 28, 2004)