CHAPTER XXIII
ES HADON TOSH ARTUMO
With a swift movement that echoed of a magical grace Lavos drew forth his sword. The five looked upon their ancient foe, a stern resolve upon their features, for they knew that once more their final battle was upon them. For this they had lived, suffered deep grief, bled, and now might well perish. At the vanguard of his company Crono smiled with a certain grimness as he perceived his doom finally draw near, knowing that the completion and fulfilment of his life was at near at hand. At his left stood Janus and Schala, the mighty children of ancient Zeal. Upon his right stood his son, and beside him Serge. All together drew their weapons, and the sound of it was a clear ringing of freedom and hope. All together whispered a silent prayer for those they loved, for the world, for future days, and above all for the strength to face this matchless evil.
Their foe paced before them, his dark robes flowing behind him as the waves of a moonless night sea. He was unafraid, even of them, who were the mightiest of all the people of the world. And he spoke no words, needing none as his dread voice echoed like a shadow of evil in their minds:
"So once again you seek to destroy me? Immortality is my gift, and eternal I am and shall ever be. What seek you here but your own destruction, foolish children?"
Crono stepped forward a pace, undaunted by the hideous voice that mocked him.
"No, naught is eternal within a bounded world. Dominion can be held for an age, or two, but not forever. Every age has its ending, and so, too, must you fall for a new age to begin."
Their enemy laughed aloud at these words from under his shroud, much amused as it seemed.
"Unless it is an unending age now upon the world, as you shall soon learn, Frey of Guardia. You deem yourselves strong? Then I shall show you true might and glory!"
He cast aside his robes, and a dazzling flash of light flamed before their eyes. Indeed, now uncloaked, their enemy seemed not dark, as they had thought him to be, but bright and fair seeming.
As he stood before them he seemed as an angel of light, tall and kingly, even as a Lord of ancient Zeal in glory. And in his hands his blade, which they had before perceived as hideously black, now shone golden as a brand of the sun. His clothes flashed with the glory and colours of the sunrise woven, it seemed, with the light of stars. In his fair and noble face was the light of midday. They were not deceived, however, for they knew that beneath this display of beauty lay the most vile of hatred and malice.
"A fair raiment to cover a foul soul," Sigurd muttered at Serge's side, gripping the hilt of Meredter the Starsword tightly.
Schala, too, was not beguiled by this sudden beauty, for she of all had suffered most from this being, and knew well what darkness he held in his black heart. She stepped forward, undaunted by the light, and keeping her eyes unwaveringly on her shining foe, though it burned them to tears.
"Cease this, demon. I know you, Lavos, far too well to fall to this guile. Trickster! You cannot hide your heart from me, for we were once as one!"
"And can be again, Schala of Zeal. You can fulfill your mother's dream of immortal life!"
He spoke with voice now. And gently, for the words came from his mouth with sublime grace to match his peerless beauty.
Schala shook her head, ill-pleased with the mention of her mother.
"Who are you to speak of her, or her wishes? You know naught of this! Her dream was, at first, only of prosperity and peace, for all the world. She was good beyond your reckoning, and through her that had been the dream of all Zeal, at one time. But you deceived her, corrupted her, and filled her mind with such unholy desires. And for that crime, one among many, you shall now answer."
Serge could feel a certain rage in her voice, only barely restrained, mingled with a sadness. And she spoke softly, yet with veiled power that seemed to cause Lavos to yield. But instead he turned his gaze to Crono.
"This girl, it seems, will not listen to reason. But what say you? You who are peerless in war-craft. Once we were bitter enemies, you and I, but it need not always be so. Your heart holds grief, and in this matter I can aid you. For my power is matchless, and what I wish is so. Turn to me, and my gift to you will be this: to restore to you the one whom you loved above all others.
But Crono, as well, would not treat with him for, though he desired above all else the return of Marle to life, he knew the offer that Lavos tempted him with was false and tainted.
"No, that I would have least of all. She lost her life nobly, serving to the death those who were under her sworn protection. Who am I, or you, to deny her such an end, or to try and unwind the webs of fate? No! I would have her rest in glorious peace forever rather than have us bound as slaves to your will."
Lavos shook his head, sadly, as it seemed.
"As you wish it, then. But know that it was not out of malice that I offered you this. Now, what of you, mightiest of the mighty, prince of sorcerers? Child of Zeal, Janus Magus, captain of the Mystics, can you discern wisdom when you see it?"
"And with what offer would you tempt me? I have seen your power, and I rejected it. I have felt the darkness, and spurned it."
"Have you, now?" Lavos questioned, fixing his angel's eyes upon the wizard. "You have abandoned all your old ways, then?"
There was a pause, and none spoke.
"So you have not. Know you why? Only power can overcome darkness, and you have not strength enough to do so. Yet I do! And such might I would grant you, friend, so that you could forever free yourself of its mastery of your heart."
"And through that power save myself, but bring the world into everlasting night? You know that I would be a powerful servant to you, and so try to beguile me into your allegiance with treacherous gifts seeming good. But I am a perilous a foe, and such I am and will always be to you, till one of us falls or the world ends."
"Three spurn me through hatred, two perhaps would show more than blind fear. Sigurd, son of heroes, do you not see your father's folly? You never knew your mother, and now your father would rather she remain dead. Will you follow him in this foolishness?"
Sigurd cast a glance of anger at Lavos, brandishing his sword about. It did not strike him so near as it had Crono, but it gave him cause enough for anger.
"Attempt but once more to speak of my mother, and I will see to it that this sword is your end."
Lavos sighed heavily.
"I had thought not. But what of the Master of the Holy Sword? You have lost one whom you loved, but to me to restore to life one dead is a light matter."
And it seemed to Serge that he could perceive a wavering form take shape before his eyes. A silken image, half seen, half unseen. And it seemed to be in the form of Leena. For a moment uncertainty grasped hold of his heart, followed by longing. But it was only a shadow, he knew suddenly.
"Phantoms is all you're master of," he said angrily in dismissing the sight from his mind, and it faded like a passing dream. "Aha, see? You don't have any true powers of life. You can only kill, and bring up shadows in mocking of what there was once. It was your power that killed her, and I won't forget that."
Lavos continued to pace, each step making hardly a sound. But for all that had passed, even the rejection of his promised gifts, his countenance was not one of wrath. Rather, he spoke to them as a kindly elder reproaching an unruly child.
"What pity. Are you all so stubborn in blind hatred? Why must you ever insist on rebelling against me, and breeding such enmity twixt us?"
"That is our duty as citizens and protectors of the world," Crono said, "for you are the ancient enemy of our planet. You are the foe of the human race."
"That is a grievous charge, my friend! What have I done so infamously to be worthy of it?" he said, laughing softly at the dire accusations that were dealt against him.
He ceased pacing and retreated to his throne. A seat that seemed to be wrought of silver inlaid with gold, and bejewelled with many gems of every hue. He sat down majestically, placing his glimmering sword across his lap in the way of a king seated to mete out judgement. Not a shadow was in any corner, and it appeared that they were outside, under the noonday sun.
And now Janus stepped forward, leaning on his scythe, the shadows beneath his cloak the only darkness in the hall.
"You know well that of old I swore to destroy you. You ruined my land, Zeal the Magnificent, the land of one thousand names and the wonder of all kingdoms. Its like will never be seen again, and the beauty that it was has perished from the world forever by your very hand. Had not the powers of the Seven Heroes united, by fate gathered from all ages, you would have done likewise to this whole earth in due time."
Lavos laughed gently upon his throne.
"Did I truly do all that? I admit that if I did, friend Crono would have a cause for his charge. But you speak greatly of things that have yet to happen. Deign you to know what course the future will now take, now that things are changed? But Zeal, that land of beauty, met its end by its own folly, not my malice. Who was it that sought to draw of my power, and disturbed my ancient sleep? The people of Zeal were overanxious for my strength and, alas, delved too deeply into my sleeping mind. It was that power, too great for those of human race to master, that drove your mother mad."
Janus drew his scythe towards himself, gripping it with both hands.
"You would lay the blame on my people? Do not think you can so easily deceive me! Had the Seven not contested fate, the world would have been lost to you for you sought, and indeed still seek, to destroy all of Mankind."
Lavos waved his hand, dismissing the words and charges as if they were no more than idle banter. His peaceful eyes had the sheen of pearls.
"But why should I wish to do such a thing? Have people not gained from my knowledge? Have they not learned from the Frozen Flame, and gained great understanding therefrom?
Serge shook his head upon hearing of that jewel, and spoke out loudly before Lavos.
"That thing is a curse on the earth! We've seen what you want for the future. Your will is only to destroy, so that you can continue to destroy. Whatever your purpose with the Flame was, you never wanted us to handle it. Though I would guess that it worked well to your end, didn't it? We fought and bled for its power, only to find it and have it twist and destroy us! Oh, very glad you were, I'm sure, to learn that your mistake would have an end so likeable to you."
"I will admit that I did not lose the Flame by my own wishes, Serge. Yet the end fruits of its power may be widely argued by better minds than yours. You say I am glad that some met folly by its power, but why should I rejoice in it? What meaning is there to that?" Lavos asked with a frown, turning his head in Serge's way.
"Evil does not require meaning. That lesson you taught me, Lavos," Schala said softly.
"Did I indeed, Schala? Well, as you feel you know so much of my mind, tell me truthfully: did you not see that I also bore hope?"
Schala paused in contemplation.
"Yes, I felt hope, I admit it. But I could not tell for what."
"For the future of this world. I, too, had grand dreams, once..."
"Yes! Black dreams: of death, of destruction, of woe and grief..." Schala cried in return, her eyes flaming perilously.
Lavos bowed his head and softly shook his head. The five were unsure, and for that moment of silence they glanced at each other, not knowing what to do. But at last Lavos lifted his eyes to them, and they were more radiant than before.
"Do you not have such dreams also? Do you not dream evil thoughts and nightmares, for a time? Yet are these a display of your true nature?"
Schala scowled at these words, for she could find no fitting reply; her clever condemnation had been bested.
"So you deem to judge me by my dreams, then? How should you measure if I did so to you? But I desire not to judge you. Rather, see me now, awake!"
And, indeed, the light seemed to grow all the more vibrant and warm, like a sunlit afternoon of high summer.
"And, if truth be told, Lavos is not my name of origin. That despicable title was given to me long ages ago in unearned hatred."
"Old lore. Yes, I know that well enough," Schala began, but Crono spoke first.
"Yes, I know also. I was there, six score and five million years ago, when you were bequeathed with that name by which Men have called you ever since, that which signifies 'great fire,'" he replied. "All too apt a naming! For your coming heralded the destruction of the Reptite kings: an entire civilization and race!"
Lavos sighed.
"I do greatly lament that. Yet, have you never crushed an insect with an unknowing footfall?"
"There is a great difference," Crono said in harsh reply, glaring at such an excuse of the deed.
"Is there now?" Lavos said softly. "Do you claim to know how God measures life, even of an insect? Tell me, Kronos, since when is it the way of warriors to be philosophers?"
"The Reptites were more than insects, so much at the least I know. They had a wisdom and knowledge of their own. Arts and sciences, learning and beauty, of a sort now lost. Because of you, and your descent in destroying fire. Those creatures were more a brother race to humanity than any other that has since arisen."
"Some would maintain that their kind lives yet in the blood of the Mystics of Medina, Kronos. And if I were to ask you of your dealings with that people, could you then so boldly profess them to be your brothers? Need I remind you of the countless wars fought throughout all of history twixt your two kinds? You hold them now in leaguer on an island that they are loath to depart from, save at great need; only now, in hatred of me, do you feign brotherhood with them. No, the truth, and you know it well, is rather that the Reptites hated your kind, and sought your end. Had they endured, they would have destroyed all humanity. Your race would have ceased to exist ere it had taken its first faltering steps. Yet then, when your death was near at hand, my coming heralded a new age for the world: the age of Man. I, Lavos Terkur Asant Nastro, was your saviour from those ancient beasts."
To this, Crono could not argue. He knew it to be true, as did they all.
Yet it was he who came found the courage to finally speak again, after a long silence.
"But not only in the past is your evil shown. The future is the judge of your deeds, and I have seen it, and so perceive your truest intent. Har-Diom, your throne, and the future of our world, both grim and hopeless. Power, death, and despair! Those are what your strive for, for when you did indeed awake you destroyed the whole world in a day and night of ruin! You brought forth the apocalypse upon the unwary world!"
But once again, Lavos answered gently.
"Ah, yes. Har-Diom: Death Peak," he said, and it appeared as though the shadow of a long suffering crossed his brows. "A grave error on my part, I admit, and I am ever burned with remorse for that end. Alas, I had judged that in the time I had given mankind, the millions of years and generations, they would have been prepared for my awakening. That was my truest dream. But they were too weak, and my coming destroyed those I had hoped to call children and friends and be teacher to. It was that that darkened my mind, being in lamentation that my grave error should have done so much evil. What you saw on that accursed peak was the manifestation of my sorrow. Can you not understand this, friend Kronos? I know you must, for long have been the years of your life, and you know how wicked the manifold chances of this world can be. Behold! as it can be for men so, too, is it for the greater, for me; I am not beyond fate, and am still subject to chance. And ill indeed was the chance that found me on that accursed day of doom."
Crono nodded, seeing some reason in these words. For ever they had hated Lavos with eyes blinded by the fear, and had not been willing to see him as anything but a perilous enemy to be vanquished.
But, though Crono furrowed his brows in uncertainty, Janus was not so easily turned; looking in dismay at his comrade who now stood in profound thought, he brandished his scythe about with a growl.
"Lie as you wish about your intent, it will not beguile my eyes: I was there when at last we fought you, battled to change that doom-swept future. If you intended in truth be our friend, why then take the very life out of the earth? Aha! Answer it. I know that was what you were striving to accomplish. Lady Ashtear learned of your intent, ere the end. Tell me now the truth: were you not taking all life, and creating a new shameful being from it?"
Lavos nodded.
"Indeed, I will not deny it. Though I grieve to now understand that you saw this as evil. Yes, I was bringing a new life to the Earth. This was my beloved creation, which you slew. But you must see, that is the wont of my people. Do not think that I am alone, that there are not others as me in this boundless world. We are a people of creators and wandering artists. We seek out new worlds, and for millennia that seem long to you, but are a trifle to us, we sleep and learn of the ways of that world. Then we arise and create our works, the fullest union of all life on that world, as a gift to the planets that we visit. They are the lasting monument to our meeting, for a part of everything in the world, and us, lives in it."
Janus cast a dismayed glance into his heart, feeling it turning from wrath to understanding despite the desire of his mind to do otherwise.
"But my mother was destroyed by you. And that is a slight I shall never forget," he said, though his words had become suddenly unsure.
"I am truly sorry for that, Janus. It is to my discredit that I did not account for your people's attempt to draw power from my sleeping mind. It destroyed them, I am afraid. You must see, I never truly awoke in that ancient age. I simply drifted between dreams and, as chance would have it, without thought destroyed Zeal. And then, when I awoke, I found myself with a world destroyed by my good will. How bitter a fate, and even more bitter to come, as for this I dearly paid due, when you heroes appeared to do battle with me."
He smiled at them.
"Then it was that I saw that not all my hopes were vain, and that there were some of all the world who were strong, as I had wished."
Crono looked warily across the room.
"And yet how can this be? You speak of Death Peak and the future as we do, as if it were the past. And yet you have not traversed time, and should not know of these matters. I ask you, Lavos, by what means do you remember Death Peak? We destroyed that future, so to your mind it should be as though it never was."
But Lavos did not falter in his words, and so truthful they seemed that they were not doubted.
"I remember what was once to be, as you may remember a dream. My nature is of a different sort than yours; do not think that my spirit is fully held within the shackles of time, and my wisdom may discern much of what may yet come, or has come, though the future is changed. But, though I know of it, that end never came to pass, and for this I am eternally thankful to you. You atoned for my wrong. And now may I do things aright."
"But the Tesseract, Lavos, is yet unaccounted for. I remember you there." Schala countered.
"Do you? No, you never truly met me, as I am now. What fell into the chaos of the Tesseract was my future self how it might have been, saddened to darkness through my destruction of mankind. The same you once saw on Death Peak, Crono, and that I remember yet as a shadow. You remember pain and sadness..."
"...and anger, and hate as well. Do not twist my memories. I will not have you deceive me!" Schala said between his words.
"Yes, yes, I will not deny my wrath. Yet it was at myself, and was over my failure at not having greater foresight. Do you think it a light thing upon the heart, Schala, to have slain near every living thing upon an entire world? To arise and see the dreadful day laid bare before you, and to hold the blood of countless innocent lives upon your hands? Do you think me in my grand power to be untouched by fear and sadness, or remorse and despair? I assure you this is not so. And to know that one must make an account for this misdeed before one's elders is a fearful matter. Yes, that darkness and fear that was to be me fell into the Tesseract and found you, I am sorry to say. Yet it still harbored the dreams that I once had, of what might have been. Did you not feel these? But you are keen-sighted, Schala, so I need not even ask; surely you must have."
Schala frowned, suddenly unsure of what her memory told her.
"I remember a desire to destroy all," she said at last, holding fast to a feeling that seemed to be fleeing from her memory.
"Sadness can bring one to think terrible thoughts, even for the mighty," he affirmed.
"So did we ever yet meet you to your face, or is this our first meeting? What did we slay, then, if not you?" Crono asked.
"What you destroyed was my first creation, Crono. Yes, you did face me, though not in this, my true form, as I appear to you know. For in my fear I hid in other guises, and strove to elude your just judgement. But I could not do so, and you averted my arising, saving your people and the world from my misguided strength. This very nearly cost me life itself, but I escaped and endured, as a shadow or dark thought fleeing in fear before the coming of the light. But I bear no lasting ill-will against you for this. Rather, I thank you, for you kept the evil future from ever coming to pass, and righted my wrong. Then the last shadow of my sadness that might of been, that which went to the Tesseract, was met and destroyed by you, Serge. Now, because of your hero's deeds, I may stand once more righteous before my peers and elders.
"Yet do not tell us that you had no part in bringing this about!" Schala cried of a sudden. "You summoned the city of humanity, Chronopolis the Mighty, to the past. What else for than to empower the future to welcome you rightly?"
"Ah, so you strike upon the truth of the matter at last! You see it now as well? I could not do so with a direct hand, but my will touched upon the thoughts of the people of the future, and it bade them make use of my Frozen Flame, as they called it; through it my purpose was achieved, and I could draw the city to myself in the past. That jewel was both the cornerstone and capstone of my power, for of old I had poured into it my subtle skills and long learned strength. And so it is a source of power unmatched in all my worlds. The power of the City of Men come to its zenith alone could withstand the splendour of my coming!" He paused with a touch of glory coming about him.
"And yet it seemed that some did not wish this to come to pass. The City of the Dragons appeared at that very moment to do battle with the City of Men, or are our histories mistaken, Lavos?" Schala said curiously.
"They are not, Schala of Zeal. Indeed, some dark will, one that I cannot fathom and which works against both you and I, seeking to estrange us, summoned it in counter of my purpose. It stirred up the old feuds twixt Reptites and Man; but my faith in your race was not unwarranted! They victored over their old enemies, and endured to continue as to my purpose. But now let us cease this endless prattle over things long done! I am indeed mightily in your debt, and I would not have you depart my halls without a just reward. What do you wish in this world? I can grant you your heart's desires, my friends, for at my fingertips is the power of heaven and earth. Nothing can equal what you have done for me, so if you will I may even grant you immortality that you, as I, need never see death; then shall you become my companions and together we shall travel across the countless stars, through the millions of years, and seek new worlds for eternity."
And with these words they at last understood the meaning of many things that before had seemed hidden. That that which had seemed to them the blackest of evils was in truth the brightest of lights was but a curious chance. And it livened their hearts to know the great good that they had accomplished, and that now everything was right. Serge looked over to Janus. Even the dark wizard smiled, things now being clear. For the end of all earthly struggles was at hand. War would now be overcome by peace, and a new golden age of prosperity would come upon the world, under the hand of Lavos. Sigurd, too, smiled, and glanced lightly up at Lavos who sat upon the throne of silver.
All would now be done aright.
But suddenly Sigurd stepped back a pace as if struck by an unseen blow, and his face darkened in fearful dismay for a moment. Yet it passed and, with a broken laugh, he crossed his arms and nodding with an understanding look on his face. And yet if one were to have looked closer, it would have been discerned that the laugh was half of fear, and that his face had suddenly been leeched of colour. He leaned over to Serge and whispered in his ear
"Clever. Most clever indeed," he said with a trembling and terror-stricken voice, and nodded towards Lavos.
Serge looked over to Sigurd, frowning. He could not understand what was being told him, though something began to gnaw at him, and he replied with no mean anger:
"What?"
Sigurd smiled strangely, as if he knew a great secret.
"It is his eyes that betray him," he continued. "For, even as the gods of legend, he cannot hide them, at least, behind lies."
Serge frowned, not understanding. He glanced up at Lavos, who sat in benevolent majesty, a mighty and righteous king. His eyes shimmered starlike.
For a moment Serge saw only the eyes of a being great and good beyond compare. But then his heart chilled with a cold fear such as he had never known. Not in all his years and deeds had he known such sudden terror as in that moment. For it seemed that, as he stood looking into the peaceful depths of Lavos' eyes, a shroud was drawn aside. A pit was opened into them that descended into the uttermost blackness, a darkness unfathomable in human understanding. A void of naught but malice and fear. For a moment it seemed that he would be drawn in, and his soul quailed in terror. But he wrenched his sight away, and the greatest of the fear passed.
Once more he saw Lavos, kind and majestic. But now he knew that, while it had appeared that they were in the presence of an angel of light, they had been falling under the clever spells of a devil of shadows.
The fine words and peaceful expression: they were a deception, all a ruse to draw them off their guard. What magic had dimmed his wits so fully?
And now he began to see this thing as it truly was. The fair features of Lavos had not changed, but they did not carry the beauty they had held before. They seemed themselves corrupt, though in what way Serge could in no wise tell. Something was amiss and, though his eyes still read the sight he saw as fair, a sickness took hold of his heart. It was evil, but in the guise of good. It was this that made it all the more horrid, a thing twisted, such as should not ever be in the world.
And so, for all his cunning, Lavos' guile had had one grave flaw: few of his words had been spoken to Sigurd, and whatever the sorcery was, it had been weak upon the child, even as he had deemed the child weak.
Serge opened his mouth, slowly and with growing fear and despair.
"Curses! Schala, step back!" he stammered with urgent words.
Schala looked over at him, and he saw that her eyes were pale and sightless, lying yet under the deceiver's spell. Even as he had surely appeared a moment before.
"Serge, I hardly think such harsh words are apt here," she said, but her voice was without true feeling or understanding, it seemed.
Serge himself retreated a pace, and drew up the Masamunë from where it lay on the ground: his guard had faltered, but he could not remember when. With the sword in his hand, his mind cleared fully, though he still felt fear, as of someone who has lived so long in a dream that they are uncertain upon awakening if the world they see is truth or illusion.
"Schala, it's a spell! It's sorcery, dammit! Your dagger, pick it up!" he cried, seeing her knife slip with a noisome clatter to the stone floor. Only he and Sigurd perceived it clearly, it seemed.
"This is not the time for weapons," she said simply, and Serge despaired at being able to draw her from her stupor.
A swift whistle rent through the air: Sigurd had let fly an arrow, and its point quivered in the wall beside Lavos.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lavos asked, frowning darkly at last. For certainly he had seen that the two had shaken aside his spell, but had remained till then silent, perhaps deeming that the holding of the other three was of greater importance. But the arrow had shattered his calm guise.
Sigurd struck another arrow to his bow, and said:
"You have spun an intriguing tale, mighty Lavos. But you are a liar. Enough of this trickery, accursed above all. You seek to draw us to you so that you may devour us. Well, take us at your peril."
Serge stood beside Sigurd, blade in hand. The other three still stood unmoving in uncertainty and disbelief, still seeing only what Lavos wished them to. They did not see any reason for these sudden violences towards the one who professed to be their greatest friend and teacher.
Lavos rose majestically, tall and kingly to the three, yet terrible as an evil stormcloud to the two, and it seemed to them that light failed at his glance. He gripped fast his sword, seeing that two at least of them were suddenly at odds with him once again despite his words.
"What is this now? Am I not your friend, Sigurd? Why dishonour yourself in this way, striking for me, who is unarmed and a brother to you?"
"I pray you not mock me, dark lord. It is not I who have lost honour, for it was not a chancing thing that I missed you. Rather, it is you who have turned from honour, speaking with a forked serpent-tongue. I for one, will no longer listen."
He swung his great sword forward, and stood in stance, ready for battle at a moment.
Serge, too, brandished his weapon before him, eying Lavos darkly, angered over having been so lightly deceived.
"So two of you would now betray my trust? No, turn from this and I shall yet forgive you." He said craftily.
But his spells were failing: now the other three were loosening from the spell of his words. Though he still seemed fair to their eyes, a dark dread had fallen on their hearts, even as it had already upon Serge, brought about by his malice towards the two.
Schala stooped and bore up her dagger, not fully certain, but wary once again.
"Why is it that darkness flows from you so, mighty Lavos?" she asked him cautiously.
He turned his gaze towards her, but his anger had overmastered him, and the light emanating from him was neither as bright nor as pure as it had been. Now it seemed that the sun had fallen behind a sudden cloud.
"Why, Schala, I am most distressed by this evil shown toward me..."
But in turning to face her eyes he erred, for she saw now too what the others had seen, and gasped shortly. It brought fresh to her mind the evil torment she had once endured in the Tesseract by his hand, and that fear of remembrance brought her sudden fury to bear on him.
"Damn you, lying serpent!" she cried.
And in anger she lashed out, flinging a dagger at him in a wheeling streak.
But Lavos was a mighty being, and could not be so lightly caught. In an unseen movement he grasped the whirling weapon by the hilt. The dagger melted to nothing in his hand as his countenance darkened upon them.
Janus clenched his teeth bitterly, for now both he and Crono were freed once more. And he called to Lavos in dark wrath.
"Though it may attempt to hide behind honeyed words, and maybe remain hidden for a time, evil shall ever reveal its true self in the foul fruit that it bears. For abhorrent crimes you remain yet unrepentant and untried. Now the time of harvest is here at long last, your evil revealed in all its fullness." He pointed to Lavos in anger. "Think not that you can escape my scythe that shall yet cut you low!" And he brought his weapon to bear before him in the manner of a challenge.
At these words of malice and challenge, Lavos gripped at his sword all the more, his face showing anger at Janus, and at all those that had escaped his cleverly placed words.
But Janus was not finished yet, and taunted Lavos once more.
"Well now, come and fight, for I see now you are a weakling and a coward who must hide behind his words, ever running and skulking, using others to do your evil will and dark bidding. But run no longer! My mother shall at last be avenged upon you, so come and fight us if you are not frightened as a little child!"
They were brave words, and not in fullness true, for Lavos had no fear, only cunning malice. But their purpose was achieved for, as they were spoken, all hope for guile left Lavos, and he darkened all the more. Now the bright sun no longer shone, but was hidden altogether, as the darkening clouds of a thunderstorm hide its light behind towering and gathering darkness. And even so all sounds seemed quenched, and the air was heavy with foreboding, and apprehension of doom.
Then Lavos yelled to them in a dark rage, in a voice born of darkness.
"Curse you all! But for you your world would have been my kingdom forever! Now shall I deal with you as you deserve, for your lord will show you no more mercy!"
And so the storm of his fury was at long last upon them, all rays of light perished. And what had been as distant and foreboding rumblings of dark fate was now as the fury of lightning.
Lavos no longer attempted at trickery, for he knew it was to no avail. Now he came at them from his dark throne, in a form monstrous and fearful to behold, the chamber trembling beneath his mighty footfalls. It was as a creature of night that he appeared, a seemingly visible embodiment of anger, hate, and darkness, and indeed of all evil will. His raiment was darkened, and the hues of the sunrise had now become as the clouds of night which veil the moon and stars. He bore his dark blade before them, its edge shimmering with the chill power of evil. Not one of the five did not wish to flee then, seeing at last their enemy of old uncloaked as his true self, for it was more terrible than they had ever imagined. The mere sight him filled their hearts with fear and despair, and made their limbs to weaken. Even bold Janus, who had spoken such dauntless words of challenge moments before, felt his heart quail. Yet their valour still held sway over their minds, and their hearts renewed their courage.
And with this it was that battle between the servants of light and dark began once more, and the doom of the world was cast upon the scales of fate.
Striding before them, crowned in darkness, Lavos swung first for Serge with fearful strength, and the Masamunë shivered under that blow. Any lesser weapon would have been shattered to pieces, but it bore it, for the Masamunë came in origin of ancient times, made from the very Dreamstone whence magic itself had been born. And yet it was not without grief that the Masamunë deflected the blade, for it was that the sword of Lavos was a mighty weapon, indeed. It had been forged in darkness on some forgotten world in the morning of the universe, and was engraved with secret runes from the dawn of time itself; and its power was in the dreams of darkness, of nightmares and terror.
And yet in that meeting hope yet prevailed, for the dreams of righteousness could not so easily be vanquished, and the blade was turned. But that stroke was forever remembered in their minds, for that clash was as of the meeting of the noonday sun with the starless night, and the echo of it caused their hearts to both despair and be uplifted alike.
Serge stumbled backward, reeling from the might of the swing. Lavos struck again, the dark blade sweeping as a dark flame through the air. But upon seeing Serge falter, Crono rushed up before him, and it was now the Rainbow that turned the blade.
Crono struck back a well-placed blow for Lavos' chest, but found his own sword no match for the dark armour that encircled his enemy's waist.
Lavos laughed in scorn, his mocking bringing the anger in Crono to rise. In fury he whirled his sword in a great swing, hoping to cleave off his enemy's head in a swift stroke, and thereby end this war for the last time. And yet Lavos stepped back a pace, and the blade went short. Finding nothing the blade went too far, and Janus, standing near at Crono's side, had to parry his friend's blade with his own simply to avoid death.
"Crono, caution!" he hissed between his teeth as the Rainbow glanced off the scythe-blade. "And patience! We take him together, for he cannot stand against five, no matter what his might!"
Crono nodded in agreement, cursing himself under his breath for nearly beheading his friend.
Lavos stood back, bearing his sword before him, and cried in an echoing voice:
"Craven fools! You fear you death. You cling to life overlong. Come now, children! Prepare your souls for death, for such will be your unescapable fate this day!"
But now Crono stood valiant and unmoved by pride. Serge, still somewhat frightened by the power they faced, yet fully unhurt, leaped up beside him.
And Lavos smiled. Wickedly, for he knew that no might of arms could overcome him, and in magic he was a peerless master.
"If you seek to flee from your fate, it will simply find you all the faster. Ha! Hide behind your enchanted weapons. They will not avail you this day!"
And so saying he raised his hands upward, his eyes glowing like the smouldering embers of a rekindled fire. A dark wind swept past Serge's ears, and a dark premonition touched him.
"Beware! Black magic!" Janus cried sharply in warning, the first to foresee the coming sorcery.
Before more could be said an evil fire, dark as night and cold to match, flamed out from Lavos.
Crono and Schala both leapt aside hastily, the rivers of dark flame running scant paces from their feet. Janus, slow to move, put forth a hasty spell of staying, halting the fiery magic before him, though for moments the contending sorceries wavered unsurely. Both Serge and Sigurd, however, stood too near the middle, and could neither move nor had the strength of spellcraft to counter the fire. By virtue of the blade he held Serge was saved, for the tongues of flame shied away from that holy blade, and appeared to fear it. But Sigurd was not half so fortunate. The chill fire encircled his calves, and he clenched his teeth in anguish. As the fire faded he his eyes shut wearily and he tumbled to the ground, his weapon falling from his hands with a clatter upon the stone. In a moment Crono was at his son's side, as Lavos raised a laugh of mockery at the scene played out before him.
"Sigurd?" Crono asked urgently, fearing him dead. Sigurd did not reply. But, indeed, he was not dead, for the blood still ran through his veins. But his skin was frozen chill, and a dark sleep, deeper than death, had been cast upon him.
Janus looked menacingly to Lavos as he, too, knelt at Sigurd's side.
"He toys with us. Curse you, Lavos! May all forsake you before the end, so that you may know the anguish of despair you have dealt unto others!"
He looked back to Crono.
"Leave him! He lives yet, but if we do not fight, I cannot say the same for us."
And standing once again, he swung about his scythe to his side. He glanced to Serge at his side, and Serge nodded, bringing up the Masamunë. They leaped forward, one to the left, the other to the right, and their weapons moved at the very same moment. But they did no injury, for Lavos saw their attack approach well enough. The Masamunë glanced off Lavos' own blade in a deft cross-parry, and it went harmlessly aside. Janus' scythe on the other side nearly found its mark, and it seemed to him that the battle was won. But Lavos turned aside, and the blade swept past. Reaching out an accursed hand, he gripped the shaft of the scythe. Janus mightily attempted to keep hold on it but, for all his strength, Lavos was the stronger. He wrested it from Janus, and, breathing words of dark sorcery upon it, threw it behind him, where it shattered to pieces.
And once again Lavos laughed, driving a swift blade for Serge. He leaped aside, leaving Lavos still untouched, and laughing.
His mockery echoed despair in their hearts, for they saw no way to overcome him. Janus drew forth his sword, and looked with question upon Crono. Only by his guidance had they victored over Lavos before, and he saw it was only by his leadership that such a thing could be accomplished for a second time.
All the while Lavos stood calm, with waning laughter, perhaps awaiting their stroke, or maybe withholding his own for some darker purpose.
"Come now, Janus," he said in calm mockery. "Shall you quail now? Your scythe lies broken. Lo! So shall you, too, as befalls all who stand against me!"
But now the four stood firm together, unmoved by his words. As of yet Schala had held back, fearing to strike her power upon Lavos in the chance that she would harm her companions that stood near the Demon in the same stroke. But now she stepped forward, and made trial of her own strength: about her form a blazing cloak sprang up, and her eyes were kindled, as though she were some angel of flame, even as those of fiery Arien who commands the blossom of the sun.
"Janus, brother, to me!" she said, her voice deep and dark as if it was not her own.
He at once stepped to her side, and upon him his power became manifest as well, as a cloak of dark shadows, mantling him nearly unseen: only his crimson eyes shone from amidst the darkness.
Lavos stood without a movement, marking his foes but making no try at a counterspell or defence. His sword he held blade downward at his side, and a sneer was silent on his lips.
Roth!" Schala cried, and Janus took up an echo of her words. "Sai arnach elth achos! Amer sai! Val ar diom taks saio!"
They were gravely potent words, but the stroke went ill even as it was begun, as it had not been without reason that Lavos had stood in silent mockery. For to him magic was not as a skill to be learned, nor a science to be mastered, but an art inborn that one may move with the mind. He had carefully marked the spells of his foes. The fire leaped forth and encircled him, but did not harm him. The darkness grasped its fingers about his form, but he put forth his might, and it vanished in even darker night. Gathering the power set against him for his own, he sent it back as a lance of burning darkness. Before he could move aside or halt it, it struck Janus fully in the chest. Nor did his armour hold off that stroke, for it was born of his very own power, and he toppled heavily to the ground.
But even as he fell, both Crono and Serge came forward, flashing their blades to strike Lavos down. In this Lavos was nearly caught, having been too fixed upon striking down Janus. With a hasty turn of his blade, he parried the blade of the Masamunë, even as it fell down for his head, for a second time turning aside the holy blade, and defeating the skill of the one who carried it. But Crono, for his part, never even stood withing striking range of his foe. If he had, it might have gone suddenly ill with Lavos, but a lance of dark light felled Crono to the ground as he rushed forward, burning ravenously through his armour.
"Curses..." Serge muttered, leaping back as Lavos' own blade swung forward for Serge's chest. He moved aside, and leapt to where Crono lay.
"Crono, you alright?" he asked urgently, seeing his anguished friend writhing on the ground.
"Yes," Crono answered painfully, rising with the aid of his sword.
Yet it was somewhat feigned, and he was less injured than it seemed. With a turn of his wrist he loosed a knife that he held fastened to his side. It wheeled through the air, catching Lavos unawares.
And for the first Lavos winced in pain, and his countenance was not one of self-assured mockery. Drawing the black-bloodied dagger out of his arm where it had struck he drove it for Serge, who stumbled backward as he warded it away. At once Crono leapt to his side, the Rainbow swinging in a perilous arc. Yet, faster even than sight, Lavos slipped aside, brining an iron hand hard across Crono's unguarded face. Spinning, his helm flying from his head and to the ground in ruin, he fell heavily to the ground, his sword clattering out of his grip. So once more Lavos turned upon Serge.
"Schala!" he yelled urgently, as he struggled valiantly to evade the heavy strokes that came for him.
All this while Schala had been at her brother's side, attempting to raise him, and fearing him slain. He was not dead, surely, but his mind would not wake. He was undone with his own spell, and a dire enchantment that was. She looked about in dismay. Sigurd still lay frozen. Crono had fallen to the ground, and was not stirring. And her brother she could not raise.
Serge's cry echoed across to her. Only he besides herself still remained standing, and if he too fell... it would go hard with her, alone. Leaping to her feet, she saw him falter, and the Masamunë slip from his fingers to the ground. Death was near.
"Lavos!" she yelled, causing a short pause in her foe. In that moment she loosed a desperate stroke. She leaped forward, by her magic nearly flying, and came upon Lavos ere he saw her approach. She drove a fell dagger thrust for his chest. So he would have died, but still his evil armour held true, and turned the blade. Shaking aside whatever surprise had mastered him, he lashed in return his fist for her.
Unable to evade this lightning blow, she felt his fist drive into her chest with all the force of a ram. She flew against the far stone wall, struck it hard with a sickening noise, and fell still to the ground.
Then Lavos turned smiling viciously upon Serge.
"She was hardly able to stand to me. How much less you, for she was thrice what you are!"
With thunderous steps, he advanced on Serge, now alone. In his hands Serge gripped again the Masamunë. And yet he had no hope in it saving him, for ever had Lavos even turned aside its usually sure blade. And his words spoke true: not even Schala had stood against him. She lay by the wall, her face and arms bloodied and torn. He hoped her not dead.
Lavos reached out an accursed hand: gloved, dark as night, and cold as the talons of death itself. Its chill froze into Serge's mind, and he felt his head swoon. His will wavered. His fingers loosened themselves against his wishes, and the great Masamunë fell from his hands. The evil fingers clutched about his throat, and the ice that poisoned his mind swept through him, speeding through his very blood. He desperately tried at resisting yet, to his dismay, found that his arms and legs had lost all their strength, the cold evil having either drained all power from them or bound them with magic strong beyond Serge's undoing.
"So that you may watch, Serge," Lavos whispered. His voice was soft and subtle, yet seemed all the more evil for it. And to hear his name spoken by the very lips of Lavos pierced a spear of horror through Serge.
"Watch," Lavos repeated with a cruel smile, fixing his devil's eyes on Serge, "and know what folly it was to try and contest my will. You shall see those you love perish before my hand, and shall be made to watch as I bend your very soul to my own power, even as I did to your dear friend Schala once."
It was a terrible voice, and the taunting mockery of the words, speaking of horrors that now seemed sure, set him nearly to tears. Lavos laughed, perhaps seeing the strength slipping from his foe, saying:
"And soon I shall come into my title that should always have been mine. I shall be the King of all Men, and they will revere me as God!"
And with a smile of supreme malice, Lavos released his iron hand, and Serge fell painfully to the ground.
But even as Serge fell, his limbs frozen beyond his power, he felt his heart recall some hope to it. For behind Lavos, unseen to the Evil One's eyes, Serge saw Crono rising again. Undaunted, his eyes shone as, with a cry of hatred, he swung his blade at Lavos. His stroke was too short, for he had misjudged either due to his injuries or some craft of Lavos'. Yet still the tip grazed the neck of the Demon, and the black blood flowed forth as he cried out in agony.
As the monster turned upon Crono, Serge felt the malice flow from him as a thing near visible. No movement could Serge make, though he put forth all his powers of both body and magic. Perhaps had he held the Masamunë would it have been otherwise, but it lay on the ground but a few paces from his fingers. In his mind he cursed his weakness.
"Lavos, I shall be your end yet!" Crono laughed, in glee over his near stroke. Twice now had he wounded his foe and, though he stood now alone, he was undaunted. In his hands the Rainbow shimmered more vibrantly than ever before.
"Your valiant friends lie here about you!" Lavos cried in return. "Not one can come to your aid, forsaken hero, you who is spurned by fate! And it is none but I who have struck down all the others. Now shall you, too, fall, and your mind be forever bound in thrall to my will!"
He raised an evil hand. Untouchable, invisible, a spell wound itself about Crono. He could feel it, its claws driving into his mind, a foreign power of malice assaulting his being. Despair, it commanded him. No hope remained. Submit to your Lord, it tempted, and then all shall be well again. Wincing against its power he brought a bolt of light down upon Lavos. It did precious little injury, but the spell was broken, and Crono leaped forward in desperate attack. He had little hope in the exchange of spells. Even Schala, of them all the greatest sorceress, had been defeated in this. Yet in his hands he held still a sword, and in swordplay he was peerless in all the world, throughout all times. Of all things, only in this could he hope to have victory. Sweeping about, with his tattered cape unfurling behind him as though it was the wings of a great eagle, he rose above the ground in undaunted defiance of Lavos. The wind and lightning danced about him at his call and will, a testament to the power that ran fire-like through his veins, and a challenge of might against the strength of Lavos.
And this challenge the was indeed answered. Leaping through the air as swiftly as wind upon the waves, Lavos swung for the figure of Crono, poised in a grim ready. With a rending flash their blades met, and both fell faltering from the air to the ground. Crono leapt up swiftly, his arms quivering, and his blade notched where it had struck his enemy's. But he laughed when he saw that Lavos had fared no better from the short affray, a great mar in the black blade edge of his sword. Roaring with flamed rage, Lavos thundered forward again, locking their weapons once more in combat.
And so Crono fought alone and unaided, yet still standing steadfast against his foe. But hope had left him for, despite his near matchless swordskill, he saw Lavos gain over him with each stroke. And he began to tire, both in body and in spirit, thinking that perhaps his end was upon him finally. And to this he resigned, and prepared to make his final stand.
From where he lay, Serge could see the battle unfold. It was fearful to watch, for both wielded formidable powers of sorcery, and great prowess in their swordhands. Yet, for all his strength, Serge could not come to the aid of his friend, for the enchantment he had been struck with still bound his limbs motionless. The shrill clash of the blades echoed in his ears, and he prayed that Crono might somehow overcome his foe...
Crono struck at Lavos with wild fury, unwilling to die hopeless and leaving the world unavenged. But each time the Demon parried it with a masterful stroke, and returned with one of yet greater skill. And so it was that Crono weakened and faltered, and his blows became less strong.
"And thus will you die, maggot of a doomed world!" Lavos yelled with hatred, and dealt such a blow that Crono's sword swung wide, and he scarcely kept his hold on the hilt. Yet with the backswing of the same stroke Lavos made a second move for Crono, who now was too weary to wholly defend himself with much speed. And so the edge of that dark sword caught Crono in the right wrist, and he cried out in pain as the black blade found its mark. He looked in agony at his hand; it was gone, and then he knew that now, at last, he was overcome, for he no longer had any strength left in his body. He knelt to a knee, and looked upward at the Demon towering tall and terrible above him, as though he were the black robed herald of death, come for the summons. With a laugh of victory, and a flourish of darkness, Lavos swept his sword through the air, driving a second, more deadly, stroke. The blade pierced Crono in the breast, shattered through bone and flesh, and rent fully through his body.
All this Serge watched unfold as a sickening play acted out, unable to do aught in aid. Yet even as Crono faltered he saw beside him, beyond hope, Schala reawaken. Coming to his side, she spoke to him:
"It is not over yet. Come now! The battle may yet be ours. It must be ours!"
She said this with pain in her voice, and the blood still ran in wet lines down her face, but even so her words had the power to enliven Serge's will.
With a touch she loosed the bonds of magic that held him, and he stood up beside her: weary, yet once more bold of heart, ready to defy all that stood before and against him.
But even as they rose they saw that dreadful stroke fall, and Crono falter to the ground in defeat. He would have died then, had he been alone, for his sword slipped from his hand to the ground, and Lavos towered above him, raising high his dark blade for the deathblow.
But it never fell for he saw, to his dismay, that Schala was once more standing, and Serge beside her. Upon the far side of the chamber Sigurd stirred, and beside him Janus was rising from the dark sleep that had been cast on him.
Lavos stepped back, for he knew that to land that stroke would put him at peril and that, furthermore, his foe was already vanquished. The lifeblood flowed from Crono's wrist and chest, and his face had begun to pale. No powers of his magic could heal the wound that had been dealt him, for the blade was evil. But now, even as he died, his spirit grew greater than ever before, burning to a bright flame within him. His eyes sparked golden, and he looked upon Lavos with a deadly smile upon his cold lips.
"And now shall you die at last, my old enemy. For even as I go hither to my long awaited fate, I perceive that your doom draws near as well. Beware! For it even now at the doorstep."
At this Lavos frowned darkly for, mighty as he was, he was still under fate, and the words filled him with a deadly fear of foreshadowing. For Crono looked upon him as one who now saw the very face of death, and saw other dooms written there as well. And now fear rose up in him, such as matched the darkness of his spirit. He stepped back a full pace, daunted by the whispers of prophecy he saw written in Crono's ghostly face, which were fearful even to the mighty Demon.
Grasping this chance, Schala and Serge ran to Crono, with Janus and Sigurd joining them a moment later.
"I have passed beyond all aid," Crono replied to their efforts to help him, his voice distant yet strong. "I will die now, as was always my destiny."
Janus shook his head to this.
"No, no friend! Live, that the world may have hope! For that yet remains."
Crono turned to his voice, as if it came from afar.
"Ah, you speak truly. But not so for me. Hope in life is gone, yet I will not die hopeless: the future may yet find salvation. From beyond the dark shadows of this accursed day shall arise a morn more fair and glorious than ever before."
He looked over to Lavos, who was still watching his opponent with uncertain eyes. The words a moment before had set a certain fear loose in his heart, and disquiet gnawed away in his darkness.
"Take heed: strength and might of human sinew," Crono said, "these will not defeat him. Yet I see now that our hope may be his doom. And so..."
He faltered, but Sigurd caught him.
"Yes, but do not worry yourself now, father!"
"Worry? Why should I worry, child? Neither do I grieve for my fate. You shall now lead the people of Guardia as Lord, and for that I rejoice. But now..."
With some supreme effort he stood, to the utter amazement of all. Lavos stared darkly, and wished for death to take Crono swiftly. Yet he dared not touch him, for some power he did not understand was in him.
"My sword," Crono said, and Serge lifted the Rainbow to his hand. Crono gripped the hilt tightly, even as his breath grew dim. But with a last effort he called across to Lavos:
"And thus shall you die, my enemy! For it is the will of God that your power be broken to pieces, and your evil be amended!"
And raising high his sword, which now shone as with all the braided fires of the rainbow, he whispered:
"One last time in life we stand united for the cause of destiny. I have met my fate; this now is your battle."
They raised their weapons to his, and stood together. And as they touched Crono's mighty sword shattered with a flash of all colours of light, scorching the ever dark eyes of Lavos where they sat peering from the shadows.
Then Crono fell to the ground once more, never to rise in life again.
But to their wonder their swords and weapons that they wielded seemed no longer as they had been. They all shone with a golden fire, flaming more brilliantly than the sun upon silver.
Janus laughed, then. Despair had left him. He drew out his sword and the letters, carven with skilful hands in ancient craft, shone as script of molten gold upon the guard.
"He is mine. Cry victory for Zeal, and the kingdoms of Men!" he said to the three, and stepped forward.
But Janus was overconfident, and not through such swords could victory hope to be won. The blades met.
"The angel of death awaits you, Lavos!" Janus said tauntingly. "His sword is drawn, and he looks to you."
Lavos swept the swords apart, and laughed. He laughed so greatly that the echo rung shrill in their ears.
"But who do you think I am?" Lavos said with a flourish of his cruel blade. "If there is any in this world who is the bringer of death, it is I!" he cried, his voice a rasping and wicked tone. "I, master of dark fate, who of old descended into the realm of Hades and took up throne there. Your thread is measured, and now shall be cut, for my sword is shadows, and my grip is death. Do not foolishly daunt me with illusions of my demise. Rather, it is you for whom that angel is bidden come!"
And he stepped forward, dark eyes kindled. With a stroke he sent Janus' sword wheeling far out of sight into the darkness. With a mighty shout Lavos swept down his blade for Janus. The stroke he dealt now would have cleft the truest helm of iron or steel. And yet, by the enchantments Crono had laid upon them at his death, the blade was turned fiercely away, though Janus himself stumbled to the ground under the strength of that blow. In anger Lavos bore his sword point towards Janus' unguarded face. Yet the wizard spun so that once again his helm bore the stroke. But he was weary, and weaponless, and knelt on the ground before Lavos, struggling to rise. And Lavos, seeing that his sword was useless to pierce the armour, struck Janus in the face with an iron boot, sending the wizard stumbling to the ground. Then Lavos placed one heavy heel upon Janus' head, pinning it to the earth, and made to hew off his head with a stroke. But Schala ran forward, and before he could deal the deadly blow, called to Lavos words of command:
"Halt, Lavos, evil and accursed upon this earth! Halt, Surtur, Son of Muspell, our enemy of old!"
He scowled at the words, turning a perilous gaze upon Schala.
"How dare you speak of such things?" he demanded in anger.
But Schala returned his gaze, not faltering for a moment. And the words she spoke were filled with power:
Flee, shadows! Depart, you thralls to darkness!
Look to the eastern sky!
The steeds of morning are in harness,
the herald of day, fair Eos, arises!
Lo! in chariot of gold enthroned speeds Helios,
arising in splendour unmatched to lighten the world!
Behold! Phoibos Apollon, the terrible and glorious!
Hail, servants of light! Darkness is vanquished!
But Lavos laughed, seemingly amused, and Schala faltered, stumbling to the ground as she spent the last of her strength.
"Im aith tosha dachao. Your weak spells have no power over me, base woman!" he spat in mockery. Yet even so he staggered a little, and his heel slipped from where it held Janus to the ground. In that moment, discerning the fleeting weakness of his enemy, Janus threw himself upon Lavos.
And thus befell the grandest of all contests of strength that has ever been, and perhaps ever shall be, as Janus, master of shadows, wrestled with Lavos. As champion of humanity Janus fought, a symbol of all the strength of that race. The power of ancient Zeal was alive in his arms, and as forged iron was his grip in that hour. His fist was a ram-head of steel; his will as though fashioned of unyielding adamant.
Stumbling weakly to her knees, Schala saw her brother now as she had not before seen him. Fist to fist, locked in a mortal combat with the Lord of Terror. Darkness fought darkness; the shadows warred, and power was matched with power. Lavos was wrestled to the ground, but rose with a desperate strength and, in his turn, brought Janus to his knees. Their eyes burned in hatred, each for the other, and neither would yield. With a great cry Janus clasped his pale fingers about his enemy's throat, and brought him down as well.
Serge looked to Schala in wonder, unsure as what to do. He wished to help Janus, but it seemed a wall of enchantment, perhaps the power of fate, encircled the two, and he could not find the will to cross it. Even Schala was powerless to interfere, and Sigurd knelt with his sword upon the ground and a whispered prayer upon his lips.
The struggle wore on, each throwing the other to the stone floor countless time, until the blood ran red from Janus' mouth, and black from Lavos'. But Janus, though mightiest and unmatched in this world, faced an unearthly foe. His hands were only mortal, and the fingers that he grappled against were ages old, and had never known either death or weakness. The strength of Lavos was that of the tyrant of a thousand worlds, master of the darkness that fills the voids and quenches the stars. Janus was overborne.
With a great effort Lavos hurled Janus away from him and smiled, for once again he had been proven stronger. And in that grim though his might redoubled, knowing that he was near to victory, and that the rule of all the world was within his grasp. Janus was spent and weaponless. Schala glanced fire, but was in a swoon from her injury; all her wisdom and power had failed her at the last, and she shuddered in despair. Sigurd was mostly unharmed, as was Serge, but even together their power was not enough to contend with Lavos. Yet in that minute the words Crono had spoken in prophecy at his death were proven true.
"Serge! The deciding moment has come! Here do waver doom and salvation upon the scales!" Janus cried hoarsely, stumbling to his feet.
To Serge it seemed as if fate itself had possessed his mind. Janus needed neither tell him what to do, nor did he contemplate what he did. With a mighty throw he cast the Masamunë, the Holy Blade of Zeal, into Janus' hands. With the lightness of a master warrior Janus swept it about him. In his fingers, fingers that had never before dared to touch that holy sword, the weapon shone. Its blades of metal faded, and the haft became as a shining lance of light, held spinning in the grasp of the mightiest of the wizards of the ages. And then it seemed that the darkness fell from him as a cloak slipping from the shoulders, and in his eyes burned an angel's fire, where only darkness had dwelt before. The years of evil and malice lifted from him in that moment, and he was revealed in his true power, a might more great than any he had held before. For ever it is fated that the light shall be mightier than the darkness, and never will evil have dominion forever. The lance Janus threw, with greater strength than any spearman has ever done. It pierced the air as a gleam of sunlight, neither faltering nor waning in its course, and rent the dark flesh of Lavos. Through his chest it flew, and landed with a clatter upon the stones far behind. It was the Masamunë swallow once again.
Lavos staggered, from mingled pain and surprise.
He put his hands to his chest, felt there the agony of the wound, and saw the black blood flowing from it. And now a fear swept him, more cold than the frozen voids that lie between the stars.
Lavos stepped backward a pace. His strength was waning; he could feel his power depart from him with his blood. And he was powerless by magic to heal such a holy wound. In desperation he called out words of power, seeing Serge and Sigurd step in challenge before him:
Aithacha entra tina ar toshith
Elachon! Hë asant eltho hael
Ishat ar arytha, kalacha il hadon
Elachon lom hael saio, termon sai!
But his fear deepened, for naught happened. Neither dark apparitions nor enchanted storms of shadow.
"Termon sai!" he cried again. "Asant eltho hael!"
"It has been decreed by fate, Lavos!" Janus yelled hoarsely, clutching his wounded arm. "Your death is at hand. Lo! all magic, even the darkness, has forsaken you! Now you stand naked at the seat of judgement, and powerless your deeds will be called into account. And the sentence is this: that you must die."
And Lavos paused. He saw all too well that his own destruction was near, with no way to avoid it. The might of the Masamunë had wrested from him his powers of sorcery, and dealt him the most dire stoke that he had ever endured. Yet his arrogance and pride would not allow him to submit lightly. Never would he brook such a fate to befall him. He pressed forward one last desperate stroke, yet faltered, for his mortal wound stained the floor black with his evil lifeblood, and the injury overcame his strength. His sword flashed short to the ground before Janus, even as he attempted to cut him down, and golden sparks struck up from where it met the stone.
And before him Janus smiled. Yet it was bereft of mockery or darkness, and held rather pity; it was the joyful look of light victoring over darkness. Lavos clutched weakly at his death-wound, gasping his last hoarse breaths.
"Curse you!" he growled, but his voice had lost all power, and held no more fear. Never before had he known such lack of strength. His sword clattered to the ground, its sable blade shattering into pieces as his power waned. He fixed his dark eyes upon Serge, with a hatred made even more potent out of the despair shining darkly in their depths.
"And you! You, Serge, with whose sword I have been slain. With my dying breath, I curse you with a fate of bitter woe. May no peace find you hereafter, and let all your days be filled with grief."
And their ancient foe spoke no more. With this final parting curse he toppled forward and thundered heavily to the ground, shaking the cavern as with a mighty earthquake. But no one ever after saw his body for, as his spirit faded to nothingness a dark fire, as if all the misdeeds of his life had come to take their vengeance upon him, flamed up about him. They burned in flames of devouring wrath, consuming his mortal house to ashes in a moment, and scorching the stones upon which he had fallen.
(Last Edited October 17, 2004)