CHAPTER VIII
THE LAND OF THE BLACK DRAGON
The dawn found Serge cold and shivering. The northern climate was far removed from that which he called home. In El Nido not the coldest winter night was as chill as this, a sunny autumn morning. But upon looking around he saw the others had already risen, and were preparing to set out on their journey across Guardia. And so he, too, albeit grudgingly, got up.
"So, we're going to your village then, Crono?" he asked as he shook the sleep from his head.
Crono turned to him from where he was packing up the remnants of the previous night's camp.
"Yes, to Truce we go. And I hope that we may find a welcome there. Though it is several days journey till we reach it. By tonight we should come to the small town of Heathglade that lies along the southern eaves of the wood." He looked past Serge into the woodlands that lay beyond, at the forests that they would have to cross.
"Thence it is five days journey to Truce. But I am gladdened that at the least we are in Guardia. The land whose banners bear the black dragon. Much lies ahead of us," he finished, and returned to the supplies.
Serge turned to the woods that lay before them. The gnarled and ashen trees grew thickly in what seemed to be pathless forests. The trunks, thick as any he had ever seen, showed the trees to be ancient, perhaps having stood there since the rise of Guardia itself. Into the woods themselves he could not see far, yet it was a dismal looking place, and he did not look forward to crossing it, despite having faith in Crono's ability to guide them through.
Then, on a sudden, as he stood staring, it seemed to Serge that a foreboding wind of some dark fate whispered from the eaves. A breeze like to that he had felt once before when, on a time, he had been upon the brink of ruin. Into his mind flashed a sudden image, as if the future were once again calling out to him in warning. Someone perished?
"Serge?" Schala questioned, coming up beside him, for she had noticed his overlong gaze upon the woods.
He started out of his thoughts, and the image fled from memory. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the uncertainty.
"Nothing," he muttered, still unsure as to what he had just envisioned.
But she looked at him, a disbelieving gaze upon her face.
"Once before you said that. At the doors to the throne room of the Dragons. Then you saw our defeat, and by some reason saw my fall at Lynx' hands. Do you see such a thing now? Come now! Some foresight at least is yours. If fate has shown you a shadow of the things to come, then tell me. I charge you as my friend to speak, for this has not been shown to you without reason."
He fought to recall his vision.
"Someone...will die," he said finally, though the words came from his lips strangely, as if they were not his own.
"The image is gone, only a fleeting thought remains. Who I saw, I can't say."
Schala narrowed her eyes sharply toward the woods, as if trying to capture what Serge had seen. But what she sought eluded her, and only the trees met her gaze. She shook her head, a grim look upon her face.
"I do not see it. But I fear what it portends. We must be on guard," she paused, and breathed in deeply of the wind coming from the woods.
"But whatever fate awaits us, I perceive it is beyond those woods. This at least I can see: whatever has been shown you is not upon us yet. It but comes to you from beyond the forest, an echo from a day yet to come."
Crono walked between them, and looked at each of them in turn.
"This is most disconcerting. I do not have gifts of prophesy, but I will not dismiss your feelings Schala, nor yours Serge. But if it is the fate of one of us to die, so be it. I for one shall not flee from my destiny. Even so, the Heckran woods are far from a safe journey, and I do not seek death needlessly. But this is why I travel them: I fear the woodland beasts less than the armies of Porre. Nonetheless, guard yourselves, and be wary of our coming fate," he nodded to the distance, "whatever that may be."
And so they made their way cautiously into the depths of the forest. As Serge had indeed seen from a distance, the woods were overgrown and not easily traversed. Thick twigs and brush netted their way across their path like the monstrous webs of some giant spider. These Crono struck away with his sword, clearing the path for a short time. Yet ever and again the path would be overgrown, and their going seemed fretfully slow. Moreover, the dense canopy of ashen trees, roofed with dark green boughs, let in scarcely any sunlight, making for an ever present grey twilight upon the forest floor, which was strewn with the dry leaves of a dozen autumns. And the air seemed near dead in his lungs, chokingly stale with decay and age. A dry feeling of death, Serge thought. Whereas the Isle had teemed with evil thought and breathed the stale wind of things dead, this place seemed to harbor its malice at a distance, hidden from sight or thought. Not so evil, perhaps, but disconcerting in its own way nonetheless. A lack of sunlight, he finally decided. The Isle saw the sun for half the day, at the least. But not so here, where the towering trees blocked the rays, dimming life itself.
"Isn't there anything alive in here?" he whispered half to himself on seeing the utter lack of even the meanest bird or squirrel.
Janus turned in response to his words, nodding in agreement, slight unsettlement even upon his usually self assured tone.
"I, too, wonder. Seldom have I seen a place so dead. Even the trees seem near death."
"So are the Heckran woods," said Crono from the lead, without turning, clearing away another entanglement with a swift stroke of his sword, "but the creatures are not absent. They merely hide in the shadows and do not show themselves." He nodded his head in way of the deep undergrowth at his side, "any number of fell creatures wait here to waylay the unwary traveller. They hide to strike unexpected, though I doubt that they will risk a company of four. Do not forget: this is still Guardia, and that is my home. This place I know well enough. And it is not truly evil, as the Isle was. If it appears so, it is but an illusion of you mind, come about from of this place's darkness and emptiness."
"Halt!" Schala whispered suddenly as Crono's last words trailed off.
The other three looked at her.
"Schala?" Serge asked, seeing her eyes and ears suddenly alert.
"Crono's right," she replied. "Can you not feel it, Janus? There are eyes watching us."
Janus peered about him, then nodded in agreement.
"Dark eyes with a dark purpose. Heckrans, unless my wits fail me."
Schala nodded.
"Be on guard. Such things pose little danger to us, but even so I should not like to be caught unawares."
Even so she glanced nervously about at the still threat of the trees, and Serge followed her gaze. He shivered coldly, though no wind blew.
"Let's get moving. I'd rather not spend the night in this place."
"To that, I agree," Crono said.
For many hours they travelled warily, Serge ever fearing some swift stroke to come at them from the trees. Yet his fears were not realized and, though the eyes never ceased marking their passing, no attack came. The light was failing into true twilight before they finally broke once again from the eaves of the forest into a large clearing. In the midst of this space lay strewn rocks and masonry, the ruins of a once large stone building.
"Manoria cathedral," Crono said before Serge could ask. "It was a fortress of the Mystics some few hundred years ago, but has long since fallen into ruin."
Serge wandered nearer to it, peering closely at what remained. For the most part the chapel was still standing, albeit without a roof. The inside lay strewn with fallen stones and dust.
Carefully watching the walls, wary of stones yet to fall, Crono made his way to the far end of the chapel.
"There are no Mystics remaining," Crono said to Serge, seeing that his friend was not quite willing to enter the building.
"We're spending the night here?" Serge asked, not preferring this ruin even over the dark woods.
Crono turned, passing another swift glance about him at the fallen stones.
"No, I would not think so. I merely thought it a thing of interest to see, as we were passing near. I would not wish to spend the night here unless some need were pressing me. Tired we may be, but I for one yearn to again sleep under a roof, and not amidst an accursed ruin. In Heathglade we shall find welcome enough, though I doubt we will gain it before mid-night."
Janus nodded in silent agreement, though Serge saw that it plainly mattered little to him.
And so they continued on their journey through the woods as the shadow lengthened. Finally the draping veil of night fell fully, and the forest was whelmed in utter darkness. In this night, starless as it was because of the treetops, their going was indeed slower and, though no creatures dared assault them even amidst the shadows, the simple brambles and bracken were obstacles enough. In the lead Crono kept them from the thickest of the underbrush. But even his keen forest eyes were hard done by to see through the darkness. But he had skills other than sight, and he was as good a woodsman as any. And so, even as he had predicted, it was well into the night when the lights of the small town of Heathglade finally met their eyes. As it was it was little of the village itself could be seen, the meagre lights flickering in some few windows casting but dim shadows of light about the buildings.
They were taken in by a poor family of peasants who kindly offered them all of what they had. Crono, however, would in no way make them a burden to these good people who he knew had little enough of their own. He refused all that was offered, save that of a place to stay away from the eyes of Porre, and even in this they slept upon the floor. They had a hasty meal from their own provisions, sharing from what they had with the family who seemed to need such food much more than they themselves. Guardia, it seemed, had fallen upon hard times of late.
The morning found them rested, and thankful that they had not chosen to while the night away in another accursed corner of the world. They gave their thanks to the peasants, Crono presenting them with what he could spare from his provisions, and left even as the dawn was breaking. This the better to avoid the ever wary eyes of the Empire. Even such a small town might have some soldier passing through and, though this was not a mortal danger, Crono did not wish to reveal his return over soon, before his purposes where full wrought. And it was not unlikely that some of the people of Guardia had turned in these hard times as well, hoping to betray even their King for some scant hope of rich reward and better life.
Crono indeed knew the lay of his land well enough. The third night now since coming to Guardia they spent in the woods, though being now well beyond the Western regions it was not fully unpleasant. Whereas the Western Heckran Woods were an ancient and dying forest, the Great Wood that spanned the interior of the land was a forest of great and beautiful trees. Serge marvelled at the mighty Oaks that stood as regal kings of trees amidst the forest, and at the willows, whose long hanging branches swayed gently in the evening winds. And, being autumn, the leaves were not only green, but aflame with a multitude of hues from crimson to gold. Here also the birds flitted about swiftly, chirping in merry song from sunrise to set. Serge admitted that it was as beautiful as Crono had professed it to be. That night sleep came easily to the company, and was pleasant and restful.
The third day dawned bright and clear, by far the warmest of the three that Serge had felt. It was also the most dangerous. They were now in the central lands and knew that Porre would be ever more present as they neared Truce. Patrols wandered the plains, and on occasion even the woods, though being only four the company had the advantage.
An hour after sunset on the fifth day, even as Crono had predicted, they arrived in Truce.
"Second, third..." Crono muttered as they slunk down an outlying street. "And fourth. This is the one. I received word several months ago that this house would be open to me if I would have need."
He knocked once, shortly, upon the door.
"Gorlois and Igrayne. They are an old family of Guardia that were once friends of mine, long before I was called royalty. Even so, I pray we do not trouble them too much. They have a children, and so it is hard enough in these days."
The door opened slowly, and a stern man looked with narrowing eyes out into the night at the company.
"Lord Crono, is it you?" he asked cautiously.
Crono nodded.
"Certainly, it is. But please, we should not stand here so. Is your house open to us?"
"Yes," the man replied, "of course. Come in."
He led them inside into a small room lit with the dim light of a small candle. In one corner a faltering fire burned in a hearth, making the inside at least somewhat warmer than the outdoors. Serge, Janus, and Schala, shivering and cold at once took to warming themselves as best they could. Crono for his part closed the door behind him and greeted the man again. From a far room a woman stepped and looked upon Crono with astonishment; they had certainly not expected his arrival.
"Ah, now! Gorlois and Igrayne, I have not seen you in many a year. Is all well with you?" Crono asked with a smile, "How goes our land? I trust it is as I have left it."
The two peasants exchanged a fleeting look of concern, then paused not speaking any words.
"It is not?" Crono asked, the concern that the two shared now passing into his face. "However so?"
"Taxes, for one," the man said. "And not simply our gold. Truce has been taxed nearly to starvation. It seems that Porre wants our land eternally hungry."
Crono hardened his face in anger, pacing across the room of the house.
"Not unexpected, however. They do not want us well enough to fight. They fear us."
"And there is more, my lord," the woman said, her voice seeming near desperation. "There is talk. There is a reward on your life..."
"As there has always been," Crono said with little concern. "But they have yet to capture me."
"But it is different now," the woman continued, her voice falling to a hush. "There have been whispers that if you do not surrender yourself to them, they will burn the villages of Guardia."
"Burn them?!" Crono cried, aghast. "They would not. Even they could not do something so evil."
The man nodded grimly.
"It is more than talk. This was proclaimed today," he said in a failing voice, drawing a small scroll from the folds of his cloak.
Crono took it from his shaking hands and looked carefully over it. From where he stood Serge could not see what was written, but at the end was the embossed symbol of the chimera. Crono read the words silently, all the while his countenance dark.
When he had finished, he looked up and glanced about the room at the other three that sat yet before the fire.
"Porre has gone too far," he said simply. Yet in his voice they plainly heard his anger.
"They have proclaimed that they shall put to fire one town every fortnight till I surrender myself to their justice, as they call it. Every town, starting with Truce itself."
"Tactically, it is a good decision," Janus said. "I am amazed they have not done so already."
"Tactically?" Crono said. "This is not a war stratagem, Janus. This is cowardice, and desperation." He paused, and took up a distant gaze. "They fear me. Only now do I see how much."
He walked with heavy steps to the fire.
"Curses upon them and their cruelty," he said hoarsely, casting the proclamation into the flames where it charred to ash in moments.
"What will you do now?" Schala asked softly. "Choose your path carefully. I warn you not act rashly at this unexpected change."
"No," Crono said, smiling grimly. "I shall do as I have always intended. What I have known I must do for every day of the last fifteen years. And I will not cast my plans astray."
"But you're going to rescue Marle, right?" Serge asked, glancing up at him.
Crono nodded in affirmation.
"Yes, for a start. If they fear my fury so, let them not cower without reason. I'll leave as soon as the faithful of Truce know of my return. Tomorrow night, if all goes well, I shall try for the castle."
He took a glance out the window. In the furthest distance the flame of a watch light on the battlements of the castle twinkled as a star.
"Yes, one day should be enough," he murmured. "But this is not all I must do. Even when Marle joins us and we are five we will not have the power to overthrow Porre. We can begin, deal the first strokes, but without an army our rebellion will be for naught. We need the people on our side, ready to go to war."
He paused somewhat, looking gravely at Schala and Janus.
"Janus, to you and Schala I entrust an assignment even more urgent than my own. Having now returned and seen into what despair my land has fallen, I dare not wait any longer."
"You have chosen to go to war, then?" Janus asked, some dark joy in his voice.
"Though the counsel of my mind warns me against it, I cannot do otherwise. I fear for the future of my people and my land," he said, looking over to where the peasant family were now putting their children to bed.
"Are you certain of this, Crono?" Schala asked gravely. "Seldom in history has war been wholly successful. You may not gain all you seek through this course."
"Nevertheless," Crono replied, "it is my choice. Serge, we will not be leaving till tomorrow night, but even so it may be good counsel to ready yourself," he added, nodding is Serge's direction.
"And this thing you would have us do?" Janus asked, his tone still bitter about being left absent from the quest to free Marle.
"Rally the people, Janus. Incite them to rise up."
"Would this not be a better thing for you to do?" Janus asked skeptically. "They hardly know me. What am I to them but an evil sorcerer from the bedtime tales? Without doubt they even now use my name as a fear to their children. Will that not be pleasant: their legendary terror walking in their village gates."
"I must go rescue Marle," Crono said, "but must also raise my army. Here, take these."
He reached out his had into the pack at his side and gave to Janus a small pile of papers. Janus looked at them curiously, his eyes looking across the hastily scrawled words on the pages.
"These are orders to war," Janus said, looking up once again.
Crono nodded.
"Written by me, and each bearing my own seals. The captains of my land will recognize them as mine."
Crono took from his finger one of the rings he wore and placed it in Janus' hand.
"That is my own signet ring as prince. When you bear it my captains will submit themselves to your authority as if it were my own."
Casting the ring into his own trappings Janus turned to Crono again.
"And where may I find these leaders?" Janus asked, now finally seeing the part Crono had laid out for him, and feeling the better for it.
"Truthfully," Crono answered. "I scarcely know. Truce village I can raise myself, and with speed. Therefore go east, where most of the hardy warriors will come from. I would counsel you seek out Sir Arendain, in the town of Fairmete, two days travel east. He will know where the others have hidden themselves. Together you and the captains will find inciting the people a light matter."
Janus nodded, submitting to the orders given him.
"Come, Schala! With such an errand of haste, we should not tarry!"
Schala stood and followed her brother to the door, girding a sword and scabbard at her waist, aside her dagger. As she stepped out into the chill night air, she turned.
"Good luck, my friend Crono," she said with calm earnestness. "And you too, Serge. I hardly envy your task."
Crono smiled grimly.
"Yet it must be done. Take thought to your own danger instead, Schala. Your deeds will not go unnoticed, nor unanswered. And take care that your brother does not become over zealous in this all."
She took a small glance outside to her brother who paced impatiently in the courtyard, staring aimlessly to the moon.
"Most definitely," she answered.
"And Schala," Crono called out as she made to close the door. "My most grateful thanks for your aid. This is no easy nor safe task I ask of you."
"I merely give myself in the service of that which is right, my friend. No danger shall deter me from taking that path."
And so saying she closed the door and joined her brother outdoors. By the dim light of the moon and stars Serge saw them fade quickly into the night and out of sight.
"Now then, Serge," Crono said once Schala had left, "we have enough trouble of our own ahead. Do not worry yourselves for them. I daresay they can watch over themselves better than we can."
"Yeah," Serge said putting the last of the provisions together into his bag. "I just hope it doesn't actually come to battle for any of us. I may have been a hero once, and I know I've fought a lot of battles, but I don't feel all that eager for a fight. Especially against another human."
Crono looked at him puzzled for a moment, then nodded.
"You've never killed another man, have you?" he said, understanding crossing his mind.
Serge shook his head.
"No, never. I've fought monsters and lot's of other things that are evil and dark. But it was only once or twice that I fought other humans. The Acacia Dragoons in that other world, and a few of the Porre soldiers. And then I always kept myself from killing them."
Crono looked at him uneasily, as if suddenly unsure whether or not he could rely on Serge as he had thought he could.
"Will you be able to, Serge, if you must? Can you kill without hesitation if need be?"
Serge shrugged, not certain about what he himself felt. His heart did not feel bold, and he did not know what to think of the situation he found himself in. All had transpired far too quickly for him to be able to read his own heart in the matter.
"I hope I don't have to. But, if I do...yes, I think I could. To save your life, or mine, I could do that. I've never killed another human, but that doesn't mean that I've never fought them, or killed anything either. It's just been too long since I did this sort of thing last. It still seems not quite real. You, me being here, as if it were too a dream I'm going to wake up from."
Crono laughed grimly.
"Do not we all. I wish near every morning that all of this: Porre and every day of the last fifteen years had been but a dark dream. But time has banished that illusion. Soon, too, will your mind come to hold all that has happened as the truth. Schala trusts you, so I will also."
Before Serge could reply to this, the door to the house was hastily thrown open. Crono leaped up in an instant, his sword in his hands before Serge even saw him reach for it. He held its blade pointed for the throat of the man that had just then disturbed them.
"I assume by this suspicious welcome that I have indeed found you, my Lord Crono," the man said, his voice daunted by the blade held quivering to his throat.
"Resistance?" Crono asked suspiciously. "Is that who you are? I have never seen you before."
The man looked pensively about himself and surveyed the house in which he stood, finally allowing his gaze to rest once more on Crono. Crono for his part did not falter in his keen gaze upon the man.
"Yes," the man finally said. "'May the star of Guardia shine forever' was the last marking line of our group."
Crono nodded, recognizing the sign known to those of the resistance. But he was, as of yet not wholly certain, and did not lower his guard.
"Why have you come then in such haste?"
"I've been sent directly to you, for the situation is now even more dire than you know."
"How so?" Crono asked, an edge of mistrust still in his tone.
"Our spies in the castle have heard talk and rumours. Your wife, the princess, is to be executed on the morrow. As an example to those who would rise up against the Empire."
At these words Serge saw Crono's will falter for a moment and his face grow ashen.
"There is no mistake in this?"
The man shook his head as Crono finally lowered his weapon.
"Not unless our spies have been deceived, and you may well know that seldom have they been wrong in the last decade. And never of a matter of such importance to the survival of our land. It would not have been easy to get such news across its walls. They would only have chanced this had they been certain of its urgency."
Crono nodded slowly then returned to his seat, throwing the blade angrily onto the table at his side.
"Porre cannot know that I have returned," he muttered unto himself, yet loud enough that Serge could hear. "This is meant to stand in guard of her rescue, then."
He looked up at Serge, a knowing glimmer of hope in his voice.
"They know that once she is once more with me we will be more dangerous than we ever were before. They do this now to forestall our banding together again. They think that I will return to find her executed, and thereby be defeated by grief when arms could not prevail."
"It appears so," the messenger said.
Crono looked up, and his countenance was grim to see.
"But they will very surely fail in this. Serge, we leave now."
"Now?" Serge asked, startled.
"Yes, now," Crono replied, standing and girding his scabbard about his waist. "If Marle is to be executed with first light, we have little enough time. Even now we must hurry. It is," he paused in thought, "two hours after sundown. That leaves us nine hours, and the journey to the castle will take us past midnight. I had hoped to plan this out carefully, but I do not have the time anymore."
Serge stood, swinging his pack across his back.
"So how do we get inside?" Serge asked of Crono.
"I pray that I was not wrong in my assumption. I hope that there is a way in through the cathedral."
Serge, unnerved as he was by this rash and unplanned rescue they were embarking upon, felt a thrill of adventure course through him. It reminded him of his own careless, foolhardy, plans when he had been himself a leader of a band.
"And if there isn't?" he asked.
"Then I will fight my way in, or die in doing so. I will not keep myself from harm, not while my beloved Marle is in peril."
He looked over at Serge.
"I would not wish you to follow me if that is the path I choose."
Serge nodded, stepping to the door and throwing it open. The chill night air wandered in filling the room with a fresh air. To Serge it was the breath of adventure. In that moment, for but an instant, he felt undaunted. Looking out into the nighttime, the dark into which the future led, he did not care what was set against him. He shook his head, and found the sudden courage fade from his heart.
He did not know why, but his valour and strength were not as they had been before. Perhaps the seal had not fully lifted from his soul? Whatever the cause, he hoped that it might return to him. For a moment it had, but it had been fleeting.
"Serge?" Crono asked, seeing the aimless stare with which Serge contemplated the night.
Serge nodded, bearing up the Masamune which leaned against the wall by the door.
"Return with this message to our resistance," Crono said in passing the messenger as he left. "Lord Crono has returned. Crono, and with him a company of heroes. The day of our wrath is near at hand. War is coming, and soon shall we be delivered by the sword."
Then he stepped outside, with Serge following hastily in his trail.
(Last Edited August 28, 2004)