Lady

Ballad of the Skylark, Verse Four

From the heavens, it came like a plague

Darkness and death and suffrage for all

All of the Goddess' sweet, delicate servants

Her mortal vassals, her beloved children no more

For now, they took arms, raising their steel

They would not die helpless

They'd die in battle, though only hell awaited those heretics

The White Knights, they were called

Lead by two saints whose names were forgotten

Their titles as generals were never forgotten

The vibrant Lady Skylark, mounted atop a white-winged mare

With her hair done in curls and her eyes like violet flowers

She held up her lance and spoke words of endearment

Cheering her troops, though they knew their true fate

They knew their place in the ten gates was set as the final

And yet, they followed her without question

They adored their War Queen Skylark

At her side, for all life, was the General himself

Named Lord Skyfer the Brave, for he fought without fear

From atop his red dragon, he issued commands

With his eyes blazed in fire that colored them red

He boasted morale when the troops needed most

He brought them victory from the jaws of defeat

For sure, they would say, for sure they would win

The Two Knights of the Sky would save our pure souls

We hoped that, at least, victory would come

Yet the end drew near

And as the sun was drawing to the west

The Goddess came forth to the ground one last time

Come to kill her heretic enemies

With a sword of blood in crystal form

And a lance forged from magic kin, she'd end the fight tonight

Her enemies alone, were the Generals themselves

Ready to die, if needed tonight

For hours, for days,

They fought one another

Rivers of blood rained from the heavens

Staining the grass

Polluting the waters and earth

Yet, as all things must do

This to drew to an end

An end that none hoped would come

The tip of the Goddess' blade was pressed to the Skylark

The point of her spear was pressed to the Skyfer

They'd die in that instant

She'd win back her world

But no, she could not be content just with that

She had to make them suffer for their sins

Sins of blasphemy and sacrilege and betrayal

From the blood that was spilt by herself in the fight

She drew up the Lord with words of cooed honey

She gave him a suit of scales, like a dragon's

And claws and fangs and a tongue full of venom

For his bravery and power was rewarded with more

Those were her words just as she said

She'd give him more power

And a inhuman form

The Skylark cried horror as she watched her beloved

No more a General of humans, but the Goddess' demon pet

Her tears brought no peace

As her creator turned to her

For eternity, she was charged

With keeping history checked

She was forced to check spheres full of memory

And write down books filled with words

That retold the Goddess' great actions

Her victories, her wars, and the battles she's won

Forever she must speak of her own loss

Her husband's great loss, her people's great end

When her task is complete, her fate will end like her partner's demise

When she ends her writing forever

All that remains is a mouth full of fangs

The moon had set, leaving the sky as cold and dark as ever before. Whilst Mark had gone to search for Eliwood, Karen had found the castle's massive library with relative ease. A large ceiling room filled with the smells of decaying parchment and mildew, piles of ruined books hid every inch of the dusty carpet. Long tables, made of delicate cherry wood with flowers carved into the legs, were covered in scrolls of magic, tactics and poetry cherished by Lord Kazul's many wives. The large windows were cracked and covered in dust too thick to even budge, the curtains deteriorated so that only thin ribbons of burgundy silk hung on either side of the yellow glass.

Seating her own tome on the edge of a broken table, she ran a thin hand over the many volumes situated upon the shelves. There was a massive, leather bound book containing the recount of the war which had brought the limbo to this world and a small book of poetry written by the first wife of Lord Kazul, Lady Maria. There were books of Anima magic, the many myths concerning the creation of the Goddess – the being who had brought the very hell upon the world she created. Her hands fell upon a small, leather bound book that she pulled out to read.

It turned out not to be a book, but a book-shaped box containing two items. One was a silky feather, pure white like the skin upon her body, and four inches long. It may have belonged to a swan, a very large swan, and felt like velvet to her fingers. The second item was a large scale, from an insanely large lizard it would appear, and onyx in color. Rough and ridged, it felt like a badly cut stone. She knew in an instant what they were, for she had seen them many times in her tome and in her life.

The feather belonged to the once noble steeds of female warriors, the Pegasi. They had died out with the end of the wars, though their souls still lived inside the vast mountainous region of the northern part of the continent. The scale was one of a Wyvern, which were so closely linked to death and destruction their name was spat out with disgust. However, both items were such powerful magical talismans that she kept them in their book and laid it aside with her tome.

A soft noise made her turn around. She looked to the massive staircase that curled around the pillar in the center of the room, which lead to the upper story and Moria's bedchambers. Moving with a slow and lazy gait, she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up to see a woman had been lying on the stone. She was young, granted, but had the face of an angel. Her radiant lemon colored locks surrounded her face, tied loosely in a braid that was flung over her left shoulder, a few strands over her left one. Her skin was lightly tanned, the face was like that of a statue, carved to perfection, and she wore clothing richly tailored, that of a noblewoman but not like the ones common to the country they were in and there was a quiver of arrows and a bow of carved silver at her hip. She was beautiful, in a noble's graceful way and appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the stairs.

Karen looked her up and down at the woman, narrowing her eyes to slits. The blonde woman was alive as well, which probably meant that she had some connection to Eliwood and Mark. Karen kicked the woman – hard – in the side and the woman's eyes, which were a pale purple color unlike Karen's black-purple shade, flickered open. She sat up and looked at Karen curiously.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was like flute music, soft and fluttery with a thickly foreign accent, one that was unlike Eliwood's and Mark's.

"Karen," she said simply, while the woman seemed unnerved by the monotone passing the lips of a girl who looked so young. The ghost continued up the stairs as though nothing strange had happened, her feet making no mark upon the ground or any sound as she walked. The blood the fields had put upon her feet had dried up now, leaving her once pale feet a dark reddish-brown. The hallways above were about as deserted and full of mildew as the library, though there was the faint scent of incense lingering. The woman was behind her, her cape fluttering as she walked.

"Is this your home, little girl?" She was speaking kindly, like a mother would do. Karen ignored the question for a while before stopping her walk.

"This is the home of a murderer and lunatic, who died over a thousand years ago. All that lives here now is the trapped soul of his daughter, who is cursed to forever dance with her invisible partner. I am but a visitor escorting a lost lord and a tactician across the lands of this limbo."

The woman looked somewhat scared for a moment. "Did you say . . . limbo? As in, the limbo between heaven and hell?"

Karen's thin lips curled into her eerie smile and she nodded jerkily. "You have an air of nobility surrounding you. Are you in some connection to a red haired man by the name of Eliwood?"

The woman arched an eyebrow and her hand moved towards her quiver. "Why do you ask?" she responded coolly.

"I thought as much," Karen replied smoothly, "He is in this mansion to. Perhaps he'll enjoy your company more than mine." The woman removed her hand from her the tip of her bow.

"I'm sorry for the lack of a name," she said, giving a kind smile, "I am Louise of Wrigley."

Karen responded with a curt nod and turned her head towards the end of the hall. There was an unearthly feeling from the end of the hall, one where the air was thick enough to taste and an ominous presence lurked in the shadows of the unseen. Though she could not feel fear, she knew that Louise must have been feeling something of the eerie sort. The lady had drawn out her bow, stringing the magnificent weapon so that, even in the dank light of the corridor, Karen could see its surface shine.

"There's nothing here," said Karen emptily, "All that occupies this manor is Moria's soul."

The depths of the castle were just as eerie as main rooms. With his rapier drawn and Mark following behind him like a dog begging for a bone, Eliwood examined the corridors of Kaden-Karo's castle. There was a feeling in the air that made the sparse hairs on the back of his neck prickle, the silence pressing in on them from every cubic inch of the air.

It was like this place was haunted by more than the dancing soul three floors below them, something more sinister. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the dark and deserted stairwells and halls, each room they passed had the door torn asunder, revealing a room ripped apart by some savage animal. Even though he didn't miss Karen, her knowledge of this limbo was something to be desired about at the moment.

Bringing his leg to his chest, he kicked in one door to continue their passage. He winced at the noise, squinting in the pitch darkness of the room. It was funny how he could see anything in this saint-forsaken wasteland Karen called limbo but he called hell; everything was so dark and horrible.

The room they had just entered had the appearance of a royal bedchamber, decorated in once lavish crimson and gold coloring that had been dulled by age. The four poster bed was the main focus of the room, the moth eaten curtains framing a bed covered in a velvet quilt. The carved cherry wood furniture was spaced elaborately, the wood covered in brown mold. Women's dresses had been flung carelessly into the trunk at the end of the, jewelry and the like piled atop it. There were two dagger sheaths inside as well.

"Someone was in a hurry to leave," noted Mark, examining the open but ruined windows. Several of the panes seemed to be missing, smashed out by a large, blunt object. Eliwood turned his attention to a corner of the room, where a small girl sat curled in a fetal position. She had dull bluish hair and lifeless gray eyes, dressed in a faded and ripped silk nightgown. A gold and ruby circlet, rusted and old, rested upon her brow, gold rings on her fingers. She was holding a doll to her chest and was sobbing quietly. She looked up at them through tear streaked eyes.

"You're here to kill me again, aren't you?" she whispered, her voice cracking with sadness, "You're going to kill me like you killed mummy." Eliwood slid his rapier away, though the girl still flinched.

"We're not here to hurt you," he said soothingly but the girl flung her eyelids shut tightly, crying louder.

"Yes you are! You're going to kill me!" she hiccupped, hugging the porcelain doll tighter to her chest, "Go away you filthy bastards! Just leave me be!" He was amazed that a girl this young (she looked barely older than four or five) had that phrase in her vocabulary. Mark gave him a scandalized look, pulling his thick cloak tighter to his body.

"I'm not good with kids," he muttered so the girl couldn't hear him.

"Are you alone here?" asked Eliwood, hoping he sounded kind. She nodded her head furiously, clutching the doll in a white knuckled grip.

"Mummy was packing for me to leave, but they came and-" She screamed in sadness, burying her face inside the doll. "They-They laughed and they threw her body out the window! I saw it smash outside! Then they turned to me and . . .and . . ." She wailed louder, sounding more and more like a banshee as she screamed. Her words were inaudible; she was so hysterical.

"There was so much pain, and . . . and . . . they were all laughing. Then daddy came and I thought he'd help me, but they just continued! He even did it! They all did it, then they drove their shinny axe through my head. It hurt so badly, I just wanted it to end . . ." She looked up at the two men through horrified eyes, clutching her doll so bitterly and tightly. "Please, don't tell me you'll be like them. Please don't tell me you'll hurt me like they did! PLEASE!"

Finally realizing what had happened to the girl, Eliwood shook his head furiously and disgustedly. Those men, her own father even, had raped her. She was barely six! She crawled towards him and flung her arms around his legs, knocking him off balance. His back collided painfully with the open trunk and the girl nuzzled his legs like a cat would do.

"Please, please help me. They're still here. They still want more. They liked it so much . . ." She tightened her grip around his legs, staring at his face with her tear-streaked pale face. She could have been mistaken for a living person, had her skin been not like ice to the touch and her face hollow, not like the round one a child should have. "Please, protect me, sirs!"

"We will," said Eliwood calmly and the girl hugged him ever tighter.

"Please, banish them. They'll kill me again, and then daddy will come, and he'll do it too. Please . . ." She dug her nails into his skin and he winced slightly.

"What's your name?" asked Mark, he to was forcing his voice to stay calm and honey coated.

"Bianca." She let go of Eliwood's legs and showed them her doll. It had a strangely Sacaen look to it, with short green hair and a crimson cloth fashioned to look like the clothing they wore. "This is Skydancer. She tells stories. They're all peaceful ones to. She was once bigger but big Skydancer went away and the small one is here!" She looked cheerful, and Eliwood was forced to make a smile.

She didn't need to finish her statements. It was clear as her story played out. Her father had killed her friend, and she had fashioned the doll to look like her friend. Apparently this girl had schizophrenia as well, if she thought that doll could speak to her. He didn't have the heart to break reality to Bianca, finally seeing her face smile for the first time. She stood, smiling still in an obscure sort of way.

"You're really nice, mister. Are you alive?" He nodded slowly. She giggled lightly. "I thought so. You're warm. You're lucky to. I wish I was alive again."

As the Pherean marquees got to his feet, Bianca held his hand. She was smiling still wider. "I remember living people have to eat and drink. There's water in the cellars. For food, there's nothing I can do." She was still smiling, leaning her head on his arm.

Mark smiled at her, his grin wide as he looked at the Knight Lord. For now, all Eliwood could think of was water. He was parched, more then he thought he'd ever been, and Bianca forcibly led him from the room and down some of the corridors they had already passed. She was chatting animatedly and it was a while before he realized she was not speaking to him or Mark but the doll still clutched in her hands. She grinned.

"Skydancer says you're cute. She likes handsome men. She didn't like daddy, because he was so fat." She giggled, swinging his arm back and forth. He sighed heavily but gave her peace. She was still alive at heart, unlike the emotionless and broken Karen, and his pity moved towards her more.

Speaking of Karen, her monotone voice pierced through the air with such suddenness that both men jumped and Bianca screamed. "It appears I was mistaken in my assumption. I did not know Kazul had another child, especially one of the plainsmen." She had appeared so suddenly behind them that it was like she had teleported, her hands missing her tome. However, with her was the Etrurian Sniper that had been one of the most powerful soldiers in his mercenary army. Lady Louise smiled kindly at him and bowed.

"It appears we meet again, Lord Pherae." Her voice was exactly the same as he remembered it as; sweet and delicate like music. She was holding her strung bow, which did not surprise him. This place was too eerie and unnerving to walk around unarmed.

"I hope you're well too, countess." Bianca smiled shyly at Louise. "You're pretty," she whispered.

Karen looked at Bianca with her unfocused, apathetic gaze. "Your mother wasn't Maria Perchikk was she?"

Bianca shook her head. "Daddy had many wives. Miss Maria was pretty too. She liked mummy. Mummy was a pretty lady to! With . . . with green hair and brown skin! She said she came from the fields, like Skydancer!" She held out her doll to Louise, smiling wider still.

"I suspected as much. Enough small talk." Karen looked back at Eliwood. "I have news for you."

He nodded. "What?" asked Mark tiredly, "I hope it's good."

Karen's lips twitched in a thin-lipped smile, which Eliwood knew meant bad news was coming. "The doors have locked themselves. We can't leave the castle."

End Chapter Four