Chrono Cross Second Journey
Fan Novelization
Book 2
1 The Astral Amulet
Serge opened his eyes to a dark blue canvas shelter. The morning sun burned stubbornly through the canvas, and its ball of fiery red was clearly visible through the weaves of the canvas screen. But Serge's face shied away from the sunlight, for it was too glaring for his eyes that were still accustomed to the darkness of sleep. The morning air was baking hot, dry, and slightly unbearable to the nose. But the same air was tinted with the familiar smell of the sea and the sounds of its gentle waves that soothed him.
For a moment, he imagined he had woken from a nightmare and had woken in his own room, but he realized he had woken in a room unfamiliar. The straw mattress that he lied on was soft, comfortable, and was laid over a sturdy, wooden bed. The blanket that covered him was furry, warm but stank with the foul odor of sweat. The roof and walls of the room were the dark blue canvases of a tent held up with wooden poles. Pots, pans and other cooking utensils tiled unkemptly under the sagging canvas wall, while urns, jugs and basins, half-filled with oily water littered a wooden floor.
Serge sat up on the bed to feel an ache splitting his head. He grimaced, slapped his forehead and massaged his temples to ease the pain. He took deep breaths and patiently waited for the painful moment pass him by.
He glanced at his surroundings, as he tried to recall events of last evening. Images of sneaking past the yard patrols of Viper Manor, images combing the rooms and levels of the manor rolled and replayed in his mind. The images that had been taken with a confused mind last evening were of a blur, and were incomplete, as if it were paintings of a half-hearted artist, paintings left unfinished. He could only vaguely recall the red carpets that stood out amongst the royal ornaments, for they were laid upon of the floors of almost every level of the manor.
Yet, within the hazy recollections, he saw clearly Kid. He recalled how Kid deftly led them past the patrols undetected and her expertise in lock picking. He recalled how he was impressed by her dexterity, her swift and silent footsteps, and how she fearlessly confronted Lynx...
Serge jolted to his senses the instant he recalled how Kid fell over the balcony fence and plunged into the darkness below. His heart wrenched as it did last evening when he could only watch her fall but could do nothing to help.
Serge struggled hastily out of bed, only to end up tumbling to the floor, his head spinning wildly.
A tan and plump lady who donned a cloth wrapped around her chest and a sarong from the waist down, walked in to help Serge up.
"You're finally awake?" the lady asked with a voice warm and motherly.
"Have you seen Kid? The one with blonde hair?" Serge asked anxiously as soon as he got to his feet.
"Oh! Yes! Of course! Yes, if you are looking for them, they're both waiting outside."
Serge brushed past the lady anxiously, before he realized that he had forgotten his belongings. He turned around and grabbed his shoes and swallow and was about to leave the room, when he realized how rude he had been.
Turning around, he said gratefully to the lady, "I... Thank you."
"Oh, don't worry about it," the lady said, waving her hand dismissingly.
"But I thank you for saving us."
"It wasn't I who saved you. My boy did. You should consider yourself lucky to have survived the fall though from such a height though," said the lady, with another wave to wave him on. "Go on, hurry. Your friends are outside."
Serge hurried to the door and stumbled outside clumsily.
Forced off El Nido's central continent by the colonizing mainlanders a century ago, the demi-humans had built themselves a new home in this part of the archipelago they called Guldove. Set in the northwestern part of El Nido against a formation of inactive volcanoes, and with no shores to speak off, the village had built itself on stilts and wooden planks that sprawled the sea. "Streets" and "alleys" were nothing like paths of stones between houses in a town such as Termina; those same words applied to long stretches of paths of planks in a village such as this. Unlike their fellow demi-humans who now lived in the southeastern Marbule, the Guldovian demi-humans had left the past and bitterness behind them, and were content to share the whole archipelago peacefully with the new human settlers, even if they could not share the same land on which they walked.
The Guldovians were perhaps the last of any major race in El Nido whose beliefs were rooted in teachings of the Dragon Gods, the Divine Dragon Faith. Not even their friends in Marbule remained faithful to this religion. They were led by a village chief, who also doubled as the village shaman, often lending spiritual, psychological advice and sometimes spiritual healing to its people. Elemental magic was their form of spiritual healing, used for curing light ailments. With the advent of medical science and promising cures for more fatal diseases, the need for health care here gradually divided into the two complementary classes: the magic and the science.
Trade served an important part of the village's economy, as was the sale of local products to the passing tourists. Hand-crafted souvenirs and protective charms were in abundance and in good demand, for Guldove was often promoted for its affiliation to the divine Dragon Gods. Sale of Element beads were considered strictly taboo, though, for most of the Guldovians saw the usage of Elemental magic as depletion of a finite resource. (Elemental magic was said to summon and deplete the strength of the Dragon Gods, the same strength that was used to heal Guldovians.)
Serge found himself stumbling and crashing out into the Guldovian street. He could have fallen over the edge of the wooden street path head down into the clear seawater, if not for a wooden rail that his tummy smacked into. He disregarded the acute pain, for he had only one scene on replaying over and over in his mind, the scene that showed his hand stretching out into the darkness into which Kid had fallen. The scene stirred in his heart worry and an inexplicable fear that she might leave and he might never see her again. If misfortune should befall her, he would be as devastated as he would be stricken by guilt, guilt of being too slow to save her.
With an anxious heart, he turned his head and looked around the village, and looked for any sign that was Kid.
"Oi! Serge!" yelled a familiar voice.
Serge turned to the voice and smiled relief, as he asked himself why he could not see her stand at where he had looked.
"Good morning, Serge," Leena greeted with her fresh, morning voice.
"You finally awake?" asked Kid. "Give your thanks to Korcha. He's the one who saved us after we fell off the cliff."
Serge jogged noisily to Kid down the wooden street. He conveniently ignored Leena, and their savior of a familiar face. He pulled Kid's arm that was dressed in a white bandage for a detailed inspection.
"A-Are you even alright?" Serge asked concernedly, as he examined worriedly but gently her bandaged wound. When he finished with that, he felt his hands to her rugged, blonde hair and then to down her soft, warm cheeks. He spun her at her shoulders and examined her from head down to toe, then up to head again. He wasn't certain what he intended to look for, but he was certain that he was elated to know she was well.
"Of course, I am!" Kid said as she spun to Serge, slapped his hands off her shoulders and slapped hard at his chest. "That little scratch ain't going to hurt me!"
Serge smiled silly.
"Serge, you are such an ingrate! You think only of Kid," said Leena, hands on her hips. "I've accompanied you throughout your journey, but you never utter a single word of concern for me! We may live in different worlds, but I still am your childhood friend, you know?"
It was this moment after Leena spoke that Serge became aware of her presence. His mind had been so preoccupied with the images of Kid falling off the balcony fence of Viper Manor that it had forgotten about all else. Leena's striking mismatch of red and blue dressing could not draw his eyes and mind as much as the concern for Kid's well-being seized them. Admittedly, he had almost forgotten that she was part of their team of three.
Serge swallowed and scratched his head in embarrassment.
"I am sorry, Leena," Serge apologized. "Are you all right?"
"Hee-hee. I was only teasing you! I am all right!" Leena said.
"Oi! I say again, give your thanks to Korcha," Kid introduced. "He was the one who saved us yesterday night."
"No sweat!" yelped the familiar face.
Serge's eyes fell upon a teenager of skinny built and tanned skin. The teenager had eyes that were shrewd, but extremely exhausted. They glittered in the morning sun, like gold and gold that glittered against light. His voice that was shrill was painfully deafening to the ears, as if it were capable of shattering the hardest of diamonds. As Serge's anxiousness for Kid's well-being receded, he realized why he found the Guldovian familiar.
"Thank you very much, Korcha, for saving us," Serge thanked gratefully the ferryman who had taxied them to Viper Manor last evening.
"It's just part of my job as a ferryman," Korcha yelped proudly with a pat on his chest.
"But how did you come back for us?" Serge asked. "How did you know?"
"Well, I was worried for her--I mean--all of you, so I turned my boat around and waited for you," the ferryman explained helpfully. "I thought you guys might need a ride back, just in case. But, I have to admit, you caught me by surprise when you came falling from the sky. You're lucky that it was the sea that you fell into and not the rocks!"
"But geez, Serge, you're such a wuss!" Kid teased, as she put an arm over Serge's shoulder and breathed heat into Serge's cheeks. "How could you get knocked out from such a short fall?"
"Who are you calling a wuss?" Serge replied lightheartedly.
"You, of course!" Kid teased. "As for me, that... little scratch..."
Kid gripped a wooden rail and nearly fell over it. Color drained from her face that had turned a white pallor. Serge held her by her bare waist to support her, only to feel her bare skin burning to his touch. Kid pushed Serge's arms away and stubbornly refused any help. She struggled to open her eyes, and once she did open them to reveal eyes of bloodshot red. But soon her eyelids closed wearily upon themselves and shut her behind unconsciousness. Kid's legs wobbled and gave way, and her whole weight sank into Serge's arms.
"Kid!" Serge cried. "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong, Serge?" Leena asked worriedly.
"Can't... knock... me... down," were Kid's last feeble words.
Kid opened her eyes to darkness, a darkness that was as distant as the night of the sky, but blacker than the black of the woods on a clouded, moonless night. Yet, even in the encompassing darkness, she could see herself clearly, and her fingers even if she stretched them out furthest. An eerie silence that was wrapped within the darkness pressed against her ears, save for an occasional gust of chill that blew past her and set the hair on her arms standing on its ends. She lied in this cold, lonely place, if 'place' was even a word of an appropriate description. She lied on no ground she could feel, yet she stayed where she was without falling, as if she floated in the air.
The place was of a name unknown to Kid, but it had not of a feeling unfamiliar. She had been here many a times. She visited it only while she slept, so she had apathetically termed this place "dreamland." But the gloom here was undeserving of the beauty of such a word, as was the horrifying reality of this place that was undeserving of it being called a dream.
Kid sat up and rubbed her eyes. She wondered why it was this place again, and why she must dream of this. Each time she had been here, she had wanted to leave at the earliest opportunity. She detested this place and its memories of loneliness along with it brought. It reminded her how her life of quiet and the uneventful had been robbed from her by the one demi-human beast who called himself Lynx, who sought only to sow seeds of hatred and enmity. It reminded her how she struggled through five difficult years alone, and with the friends that turned into enemies. It stirred within her a desire to be showered with concern, with love and with the caring embrace of a soul mate, a desire that tore her frail heart and forced the tears from her eyes. She tried to wipe the tears that were signs of weakness, but she found them flowing endlessly, uncontrollably. She tried to slap herself awake, only to feel no pain strong enough to bring her back into the real world.
"Kid." A familiar voice of a lady spoke from the darkness, but Kid felt as if she spoke in her mind. She adored the warm, sweet voice, for it was the only break from the deathly silence in this no man's land, for it was a voice that soothed and lulled her aching and lonely heart. It had accompanied Kid whenever she was here. It had offered guidance through her life, even if it had sometimes spoke words of the nonsensical. It was the one voice she would listen to, even if she refused to believe the rest of the world talk about dreams and omens, ghosts and spirits.
"You?" Kid asked as she wiped the tears, relieved at the company.
"Who am 'I?' Who are 'you?' They are but the same thing, from two different points of view."
"You always say this," Kid sniffed. "But t-thank you... for being here."
"Angelus Errare."
"W-What are you talking about?"
"The amulet."
"This?" Kid asked pointing to her pouch that contained an amulet.
"Give it to Serge. He will need it, as much as you need him."
"But that is my favorite amulet," Kid protested politely. "Sis gave it to me."
"Remember, Kid? Where Even Angels Lose Their Way."
The voice faded into the distant darkness.
"Don't leave me! Come back!" Kid yelled.
Kid got to her feet and ran around the empty space, searching aimlessly for the voice that never responded. Such was how the dream started and such was how it would always end--in painful solitude. Her heart wrenched, and tears started to flow again. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, as if she were shivering from cold of the loneliness; the cold of loneliness that had crept beneath her skin and into her chest, as if it desired to eat her heart out.
Kid fell helplessly to her knees.
"Let me out, please!" she pleaded as she sobbed. "I don't want to be here."
"Is she even alright?" Serge demanded as the village doctor finished his examinations.
Serge realized he was rude, but he realized he could not contain the rising anxiety in his heart. He wanted answers, answers that were not of the negative, but answers that would tell him that he was overreacting and that Kid was doing fine. And he wanted them now.
"It seems the patient has been poisoned with Hydra Venom," the village doctor declared grimly.
Serge's heart sank.
The village doctor turned slowly to Serge. He had cheeks that sagged from age and exhaustion looked as if they sagged from a disappointment, from an unspoken incompetence. His eyes that were as grim as his spoken tone foretold of an unneeded, unpleasant announcement. He looked at Serge with uncertainty, as if he waited for Serge's approval.
"Please speak your mind, doctor," Serge said as he braced himself mentally.
"At most two days," the village doctor said slowly. "I would say she has at most two days to live."
Leena gasped.
"What?" shrilled the ferryman. He signed two fingers crudely at the village doctor, as if he were swearing. "Two days! Only two days! This must be a joke!"
"Are you certain?" asked Serge, shocked. Nothing could prepare him for the dreadful news that he heard. "How can you be so sure she has been poisoned, and not ill from exhaustion?"
"She shows all the signs of such poisoning," said the village doctor before he drew a deep, heavy breath. "The venom of the Hydra spreads to ones limbs and robs them of their strength. It spreads to ones hearts and lungs and robs them of their function and her ability to breathe. Color drains from one's skin as one's body shores up defense against the vicious enemy, but her temperature rises like the heat of the ground that burns in the sun. Her nails turn purplish-green and her eyes turn--"
"Stop it," said Serge, a hand raised.
The river of life from which had sprung so many surprises in the past two days had now swallowed Kid and swept her to the rapids where the raging torrents slammed against her and the violent waves tossed her about. As Serge and Leena stood at the banks and fought to struggle against the anxiety and the tears back, they watched helplessly the one who fought for her life.
Serge's eyelids shut not from exhaustion but from the devastation and the sudden knowledge of how little time that they had left. His heart wrenched because he knew she was suffering in mind and body from the malicious toxin. He could imagine her breathing the hot air that burned at her lips, as if it burned on his own. He could understand her loss of appetite, her loss of strength and her loss of her disposition to talk and laugh, as if he were the one who had fallen ill. Worst of all, he imagined torturing pain slowly chiseled into her bones and drove her mind to insanity, just as it slowly chiseled into his brittle heart and tried to shatter it.
Serge had stared Death in the face twice in his fourteen years of life, once when he was bitten by the panther demon and another when he nearly drowned. He had seen Death claim his fellow villagers when their age was due, when it was their time to depart this world and head to the next. Today, he saw Death once again, but not in the way he had expected, and not in a way he had wished. He had never felt Death so close to taking a friend away, as if it were so close to taking a part of him away.
The images of last evening flooded his mind once more, as he blamed himself for not doing enough, for not being quick enough. Never mind if Kid was really poisoned by Lynx's despicable attack, Serge found an escape that distanced him from Death as long as he blamed himself. But as he wasted precious moments shifting responsibilities onto his own shoulders, the dark shadow of Death who stood between him and Kid grew and loomed ever so taller, ever so defiantly. Serge soon realized he could not shrug off Him who, time and again, refused to leave his own life alone. It was as if He now desired Serge to live, but live a life far worse than death.
Serge opened his eyes from which a tear flowed.
"Isn't there anything at all that we could do?" the ferryman shrilled.
"If we had some humor from the Hydra species, we would be able to neutralize the poison," the village doctor mumbled, his head lowered. "But that is impossible now. Hydras are extinct on El Nido."
"What do you mean extinct?" asked Leena worriedly.
"Hydras are very rare and valuable creatures that lived in the Hydra Marshes. The blood, bones, meat: every part is valuable. It's considered to be a panacea for various illnesses. As a result, a whole species has been made extinct, just to make a quick fortune."
"But!" struggled Leena, her arms flinging about in animated desperation. "Don't any of our towns sell the antidote?"
The village doctor shook his head grimly.
"How about the mainland?" Leena asked with a voice that quivered with grief. "I-If we could cross the sea to the mainland of Zenan, t-there might be a chance, am I not right?"
The doctor regarded Leena blankly. "That is not possible," he said, shaking his head. "The currents of El Nido are extremely dangerous this time of year. It is highly improbable to cross the sea unless you are on a large vessel. Even if you manage to get there, your chances of finding Hydra humor are bleak. We do not have much time."
Serge sniffed beneath his breath. Another tear rolled down his cheek.
"Serge," said Leena softly. But her words offered no consolation to ease the wrenching sadness in him.
Tense was the sudden silence that had settled over the room in the hot, stifling noon. The sounds of the gentle waves washing under the village of Guldove that should soothe even the most stressful of minds now carried an inexplicable sadness. Yet, the afternoon sun streamed mercilessly through the unflattering windows, as if it were bent on worsening Kid's deteriorating condition.
A metronome in the room ticked slowly away. Its soft rhythm was each a deafening clap that reverberated to every canvas wall of the room. The sands of time that had already begun to turn against them, now slipped slowly through one bulb into another like life that slipped slowly into death. And while everyone stood frozen and lost, Kid's breath surely slipped away with every beat of the heart.
The doctor regarded at Serge with a look of guilt and remorse. "I'm sorry," said the doctor. "You might like to accompany her until she leaves." He lowered his head and walked out of the room.
The die had been cast. That even the doctor had walked out on meant that the situation was hopeless. Serge could only stand and watch helplessly as the doctor insisted on walking out of the room, and on walking out on his patient.
Leena walked to Serge and tugged his elbow with her cold, clammy hands. "Serge, what are we going to do? Kid is going to die if we leave her like this."
Serge found no words suitable for reply. He only found that the wooden floor had blurred and turned wavy through his watery eyes.
Serge knew of her true identity as a member of the group of bandits who called themselves the Radical Dreamers, a group that had committed crimes too many they must now be most wanted felons. Yet, her true identity was no barrier between the both of them, even if he had stubbornly refused to admit it. He realized he had wasted too much time trying to suppress his feelings that he began to regret his foolishness. He longed for her voice that was boorish but healthy and forthright. He longed to see her attitude of the casual and nonchalant that was to him an attitude of composure and courage. And he longed to see her face and cheeks once again, and to let them rest upon his shoulders and his chest, if she so wished.
At this moment, Serge could not help feel the feeling of affection that called for his tears and the sense of responsibility that called for his action. Yet, there were only tears that could flow, and no action that could be taken, for there seemed no options other than the wait for the inevitable.
"Hey, doctor!" the ferryman shrieked angrily. His shrill voice that tore the unnerving silence felt as if it tore Serge's ears. "Where are you going? Nothing's been resolved yet! I-Is this some kind of joke? Wait right here," the ferryman signed at Serge and Leena. "I'll go get the doctor back!"
The ferryman stomped towards the door and then out of it. He thumped onto something and stumbled noisily back into the room.
"Who the hell are you?" he yelped furiously.
A female jester hopped gleefully into room. Her petite build swayed to her every step that was gentle and almost silent. She hummed a gleeful tune and rocked her head to its rhythm. Her motley dressing of flamboyant splash of red and purple stood out in the room as brilliantly as the sun that streamed in through the windows, as brilliantly as the unfitting smile she wore on her face.
"What's this?" the jester said with a heavy accent but a cheeky tone. "No apologies for bumping into me? Ooh-la-la, don't you know any manners?"
"Harle?" asked Serge, who recognized the jester as the one who approached them in the throne room of Viper Manor last evening, the one who claimed to be the right-hand man to Lynx. "What do you think you are doing here?"
Harle walked up to Serge and bowed playfully before him. Then, Harle walked over to Kid, bent down to her, flicked her fringe and sneered. "She is down for the count, just as I thought," sang Harle without remorse.
Serge remained quiet and wiped another tear off his cheek. He was shocked and angered by the insensitive remarks, but his dulled mind found nothing appropriate to retort.
"Serge, my beloved, why don't we just leave her be?" asked Harle. She swayed her body and her eyes flirted with him.
Serge turned away and ignored this eccentric lady altogether.
"Who are you?" the ferryman demanded. "And what's with that strange costume?"
Harle turned to the ferryman and regarded him with an unimpressed stare. "I have no business with no chicken-hawk. I am having a conversation with Serge. You're bothering me, so keep your mouth shut."
"Why you!" the ferryman raged and rubbed his fist.
Serge walked up to the ferryman and held him back by his shoulder. "No," said Serge sternly.
"Try if you dare!" Harle challenged, beckoning the ferryman arrogantly with her right hand. "I am not so weak as to be caught by a chicken-hawk!"
"You!"
Harle ignored the ferryman disdainfully and turned to Serge. "I came only to see how Kid was doing. That I've done, I shall take my leave." Harle blew at Serge a kiss with a loud smack of the lips. "Farewell, Serge, my beloved! Please do dream of me every night! Yes?"
Harle leapt into the air and vanished from sight.
More magic of the arcane like Lynx's, Serge thought but quickly disregarded. She had, after all, claimed herself to be Lynx's right-hand harlequin. He was not certain of her real intentions, but he was certain that once she had departed, silence appropriate to the current tension would return.
The silence Serge hoped for did not return, however, for Korcha paced up and down the room with impatient stomps, under which the flimsy wood bent and creaked noisily. The ferryman scratched his head hard, flung his arms about and mumbled garbage to himself, as if he tried to conjure up a solution to the problem that had none. Leena sat awkwardly, quietly and inconspicuously on the wooden floor at a corner of the room, nursing her tears. She sniffed and sobbed and wiped with one arm after the other the flow of tears that seemed endless.
Serge turned away from Leena, for a look at her made him want to cry. He looked up into the canvas roof, as he wished for the tears to backflow into his eyes. The tears found their way down to his dry and sore throat and soothed them. But they did nothing to soothe the tension in his heart. And as he counted the passing of moments, Kid shifted about in her bed.
"Serge," Kid mumbled weakly, as she struggled to stretch a hand out to Serge.
Serge and Leena hurried to the bed. Serge bent down by her side. Kid struggled to peel her eyes open, but she could barely manage a half-opened pair from which green fluid flowed. Her bloodshot eyes looked wearily at Serge. Her face and skin were pallor that was as ghostly as it was frightening. Her laborious breathing was heat that burned at Serge's cheeks. Every sign of the poisoning was pain that ached inside of Serge. Every breath she took was to Serge a lonely struggle to which he could offer no strength or support. The tears choked in his eyes and his throat gathered a painful lump. He vividly recalled how his mother had suffered the same. He dreaded to think that the worse might befall unto Kid; the Kid who should be an expressive loudmouth but was now bedridden; the Kid who should be a lively lady but was now awaiting death.
Kid's reached her hand out. Serge seized with his both her hand, in which she held a little pouch.
"Serge," she struggled softly. Her voice that had been loud was now soft and gentle. "This is my favorite amulet, an Astral Amulet. And I want you to keep it."
"No! I'm not going to take this!" Serge yelled under his breath. The choked tears sprang and flowed down his cheeks. "Nothing is going to happen to you! You are going to keep it safely by your side!"
Kid shook her head wearily with a forced smile. "Take it, Serge, take it. Don't worry about me, because I'll be back for it, you can be sure," she tried to smile. "This was given to me by Sis. Now, I don't want you losing it, you hear? I'm lending it to you only because you will need it. Don't ask me how I know, but I know that you will, that is, if you wish to help."
"Of course, I will help!"
Kid smiled with relief. "I know I can count on you. Remember what the prophet said, Serge? Where do angels lose their way? I know this amulet has something to do with these angels, but I don't know what it means. I can't think straight now, so you'd have to do some thinking yourself."
"Please save your breath," said Serge as he stroked her burning forehead. "You need plenty of rest."
"Try to... remember, Serge." her eyes began to close. "I'm feeling a bit tired... I'm going to rest up for a while..."
When her eyelids fell and shut the windows to her soul, Serge's heart pounded furiously for he thought that she had left this world. Only the laborious rising and the falling of her chest offered him relief as much as they offered him hope.
Their clasped hands parted, and Serge tucked hers under the blanket.
The pouch given to Serge was of soft velvet of dark, navy blue. Threads of gold silk embroidered on the pouch's surface a crest of intricate design, one that seemed to be of ancient origins. The Astral Amulet within was of a wooden make, light brown, shaped into an egg. Although its wooden surface grained patterns of darker brown, it was smooth and lacquered, like that of a pearl of fine cutting. The amulet radiated a magical sensation that was a tingle to Serge's fingers and that was warm to the touch, as if the amulet carried Kid's undying warmth within.
Indeed, her warmth was undying, her stand resolute. In the conversation, he saw an unflinching Kid, unwilling to give in to death. He saw that she counted on him, for she placed her life in his hand as she did the Astral Amulet, as if the amulet itself were her life. She must have instilled courage in his heart, for he found new strength to fight with her, to fight for her, and to give his own life, if necessary, so that she may overcome this hurdle.
There was still time--two days--before the poison would set in and her soul would set off to another world. Worrying was futile. Crying did nothing either. Something must be done, and it must be done now.
Serge wiped that single drop of tear off his cheeks, and whispered softly into Kid's ears.
"Leave it to me, Kid. Leave it to me."
"You heard what the doc said," the ferryman said, pacing up and down Kid's room. "There are no more Hydras in this world. On top of that, there's no way to get to the mainland, and El Nido isn't that small a place. Are you going to take a one-in-a-million chance to search for this thing? What are you going to do now?"
As the sounds of the gentle waves in the sea below rose to his ears, Serge engrossed himself in his own thoughts. He had no clues where to begin his hunt for the antidote that Nature no longer produced. He had the Astral Amulet in his hands, but he regarded it blankly, for he knew nothing of what it could do. Yet, he had a feeling that something deceptively simple lurked deep in his mind under his mounting anxiousness and the knowledge of their limited window of time. He dug into his mind, like he dug a hole into the ground, in search of the elusive solution, but he found more problems piled back upon themselves, like loose earth slipped back and covered the hole.
"I'll find a way to save her," Serge asserted firmly. The only question was how.
The ferryman nodded approvingly. "I can sail you around El Nido," the ferryman offered.
"I'm going with you, too," Leena sniffed. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks wet. The sobs had stopped, but the tears continued to trickle. "I want to go, too, Serge. I look upon her as my friend, even as my beloved sister. I will not watch her life slip away and not do anything."
Serge bit his lips and nodded at Leena and the ferryman. He was moved by their offers.
"By the way," said the ferryman to Serge. "Do you even have a clue where to start looking?"
"Where even angels lose their way," mused Serge.
"What?" the ferryman yelled. "What in the hell is that?"
This while, a young lady of a refined aura walked into the patient's room. Her cheeks that were fair and smooth looked as if they had weathered only twenty-odd years of age. She donned, trimmed with humble yellow linings, a modest red robe like that of a holy person. Even at a young age, her frugal life had stitched itself onto her robe, in the form of patches that covered torn holes. Her hands were tucked beneath her long sleeves. Her young eyes that sparkled in the afternoon sun were gentle and beautiful, but they exuded an unwavering spirit of righteousness. Those eyes swept gently through the patient room until they fell upon the ferryman, Korcha.
"Korcha," said the lady with a deep voice. "I hear someone has been wounded. I am here to offer my prayers to her."
"She's right here," the ferryman quickly gestured to the bed on which Kid rested.
The lady's eyes that fell upon Kid fell sullen with sympathy.
Serge stood to his feet. "You are...?"
The lady turned to Serge and bowed. Serge respectfully returned the bow.
"You...?" said the lady with a slight startle. Then she composed herself. "Forgive me. I sense that you possess a young, gentle air about you, but there is an odd wind that whirls about. I have heard that such strange wind-bearers appear at time, but we shall leave this discussion to later. More importantly, now, I'm here to offer my prayers and my aid to this young lady. I'm shaman Steena and I'm here on the behalf of the village chief Direa. She is currently occupied with urgent affairs and cannot be here in person."
"Thank you for being here," said Serge. "But how did you--"
"Word travels fast in a small village such as ours." Shaman Steena smiled genteelly. "As village shamans, we will not watch a fellow living being suffer and do nothing. Although Elemental aid may not prove to be of much use to this young lady as would medical science, it should ease her pain."
"Thank you," said Serge gratefully, as a tear rolled down his cheek.
The shaman walked over to the bed and bent down by her side. Her hands slid out of her sleeves and slid into view. On her right hand, she wore three rings of humble wooden design. Affixed onto each ring, was a glowing bead of the holy Elemental white. She raised her right hand over Kid's head and closed her eyes in prayer.
A shield of faint white wrapped Kid in its embrace of recovery. As the glows of the beads in the shaman's hand gradually faded, the shield drowned Kid in a cocoon of angel white, as if she were healed by the hands of the divine. A draft of cool wind blew at Serge and gently ruffled his fringe. As the Element worked its magic, the stifling heat that lingered in the air departed, living behind a refreshing scent of the ocean waters. When the last of the glows vanished, the short-lived magic around Kid faded and revealed on her face a look of relief and bliss, as if she had been purged of her poisoning. Yet, the color on Kid's face and arms remained that of a ghostly white, for she remained under the mercy of the venom.
Serge was pleasantly amazed by the shaman's skill of wielding Elemental magic, for there were few who could cast the White shield of recovery to the point that seemed as if heaven opened its gates. He was pleased to know that Kid seemed to feel better, as the shaman had promised. He found a sense of relief wash over him, as if even he were healed by the spell of recovery.
The shaman turned to Serge, and slid her hands into her sleeves and hid them from view. Her gaze fell upon his hand with keen interest, the hand that held the pouch with the Astral Amulet.
"I sense magic in the pouch you hold," she spoke humbly. Then she looked up at Serge. "And I sense that you something you wish to tell me."
Indeed, Serge felt like pouring everything to anyone who exuded such wisdom, for Serge knew that he or she might have answers that he sought. He felt compelled to relate his whole story to the compassionate shaman, but he knew he had little time to engage in such lengthy, expensive conversations.
"I come from another world," Serge summarized. "In the world I come from, I lived up till today. But in this world that I do not belong, I died ten years ago."
"What in the hell?" the shocked ferryman shrilled, as his eyes darted between Serge, Leena and the lady shaman. "You died ten years ago?"
Serge regarded the noisy ferryman blankly.
The shaman's lips parted in wonder. "Do you speak the truth?"
"Yes," Serge nodded. "But it is a long story."
"I see. At first, I thought that you might have been a lost spirit that had taken possession of a mortal body that is not rightfully yours. But I was mistaken. And now I understand. That explains why you have an odd air about you, for it is one that does not belong to this world." The shaman drew a gentle breath as she shifted her eyes to the pouch in Serge's hand. "And as for what you hold in the pouch, it seems to possess powers of the extraordinary. But be very careful, for such powers may bring about phenomenon of the mysterious and open doors to worlds unknown."
Serge raised and opened his hand, revealing the pouch in full view. He watched its folds slowly ease and its velvet cloth very slowly spring back into form, as if it were a flower that tried to bloom in summer. "Can it, then, open the door to my own world?"
"It may be possible."
"But even if I may return to my world, I cannot leave Kid like this. I have to find the antidote to neutralize Kid's poison. But the Hydra is now extinct in El Nido."
"Have you considered the fact that events in your world may be different from the events in this?"
Serge gripped the pouch and looked up at the shaman, as he began to realize the implications of the shaman's words.
"Yes!" Serge exclaimed, as he turned to Leena. He imagined that Leena, who had seen these several days with him, might have easily figured out the answer just as he just did. But her weary, teary eyes regarded Serge with confusion.
"Why did I not think of that?" Serge continued. "Even if Hydras do not exist in this world, it might still exist in my world. You are right!" Serge turned to the shaman. "I remember hearing of Hydras that still roam on the central continent in my world. But even if we think the Astral Amulet does what we wish it will do, where should we activate it to get back to my own world?"
"There is a saying, that 'where one enters, where one leaves.' You are bright young man. The answer should not prove too elusive."
"But of course!" Serge exclaimed as a chill seized his body.
The shaman's advice that was plain and simple was the most enlightening. Serge noticed that the shaman had even used the same words of the ancient sage, as if these were idiomatic responses under such circumstances. He had failed to realize what the sage meant then. But upon shaman Steena's reminder, the answer had come to him. He realized that the simple solution to the simple problem that he sought had suddenly come into light. This was the answer that had been buried in his mind under a thousand other problems, but it was one that had revealed itself to him at this timely moment.
Serge knew where this door between both worlds lied, for there could be only one place through which he had entered into this world.
"Thank you, shaman Steena!" exclaimed Serge, who could find no more words to express his gratitude.
"I did nothing to deserve the gratitude," she replied, shaking her head. "You had all the answers; I merely opened your eyes to them. If you wish to save your friend, you must act now. I will stay with her and I will pray for her by the hour. But you must hurry, for I fear she will not hold on too long."
"Yes, of course!" Serge's blood rushed with renewed hope.
He turned to Leena and the ferryman and pulled them out of the patient's room. They stumbled clumsily on their way out for Serge's strength that dragged them at their arms dragged them too fast for their feet. Unaware that the door frame was too narrow, Serge blindly dragged and slammed the two's shoulders squarely into it. They only gasped at the pain and they made no noise, as if any scream at such trivial pain were disregard for Kid who suffered worse but suffered silently.
"We have to leave now," Serge said. "Korcha, please ready your boat. And Leena, please help Korcha. As soon as I get a vial from the doctor to store the humor, I'll join you at the pier."
"Where are we headed to?" Leena grimaced, as she massaged her bruised shoulder.
"Where one enters, where one leaves," Serge mused. "We head to Opassa Beach."
Against all persuasion, Serge had insisted using his double-bladed swallow as an additional oar. He dug furiously into the water till his arms ached. Still, he continued to dig for as long as the boat was nowhere near shore, till the ache in his arms turned numb. Perspiration soaked the back of his vest and heat of the sun stung the back of his neck. Yet, an icy cold chilled under the surface of his arms and back, as if it were symptoms that he were about to fall ill. Still, he continued to dig hard into the ocean blue.
As the boat approached shore, Serge leapt off it and sloshed towards the beach, splashing water onto Leena who followed closely behind. He wasn't aware he was drenching Leena. He was only aware of the mile expanse of white sands that stretched from one end of his vision to another. He focused intently on the one spot that he fainted on just two afternoons ago, for it must be where the door that had lied hidden from eyes. He had then cast all magic of the Elemental, but found none that was the key to the unseen lock. Now, he was not certain even if with the Astral Amulet that the door to his world would open and welcome him warmly, or would remain sealed and shut him out coldly. Worse, he could find no explanation as to why Kid should hold the key to his world.
Serge stood at where he lost consciousness two afternoons ago. Where the depression in the sand should have been, now floated a small sphere ominously, a sphere no larger than the size of a pea. Dark emptiness peered through the little sphere, like the darkness of a room that could be seen through a small keyhole. A faint, circular shadow blanketed the sands near the sphere, but was cast from no body physical. Ominous green smoke rose through the sphere, rose into Serge's eyes and sent shudders through his muscles. The Astral Amulet had gotten warmer, as if calling for its use.
"This is where the world was split in twain, you say?" the ferryman asked Serge, his 8staring at the phenomenon in disbelief. "This was where you died ten years ago?"
Serge had related to the ferryman about his plight on the way. But the ferryman seemed to have understood little of it.
"Where even angels lose their way," added Serge. "Are you coming with us, Korcha?"
The ferryman waved both hands nervously. "Wait just a minute! I'm only a ferryman," he rejected quickly. Then, with one hand scratching the back of his head, he said, "Besides, I've to guard my boat." The ferryman flashed a wide grin. "I'll wait for you here, instead!"
"I understand," said Serge.
The ferryman gladly excused himself and hurried back to his boat. As he tried to make himself look busy with the anchoring of the boat, Serge squatted and examined the portal that had made itself visible in the presence of the amulet. Leena bent down beside him and laid her hand on his shoulder.
"Serge," she said softly, listlessly. "I... I have something to say to you."
"W-What is it?" asked Serge as he turned to look at her. He recalled the other Leena in his world had said something similar.
"I know this is not an appropriate time, but... I'm sorry, Serge."
"Why should you be?" Serge asked, curious, nervous.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, then, when you told me you were from Arni, when you told me you didn't die ten years ago. I must have said many, many things that hurt you. I'm so very sorry."
Leena stood straight and looked up into the clear blue skies. Her fists were clenched and her arms were stiff by her sides. Her eyes were swollen and dry. Yet, she bit her lips as if she tried to hold back tears that did not flow.
"I don't blame you," said Serge as he stood up and breathed small relief. "Besides, I called you a liar, too, didn't I?"
Leena turned to Serge. "Yes, you called me a liar," she said, sniffing. "How dare you." She tried a smile.
Serge had never seen Leena so spiritless. The tips of her smile had been forced up into cheeks weighed down by sorrows. Her smile looked awful and disheartening. Yet, this smile told him how different this Leena was from the one he knew in his own world. The two were like undistinguishable shades of color, until placed side by side for scrutiny. This Leena knew her own faults and was not afraid to admit them. The one in Serge's world, however, only knew to pick out others'.
"Now," Leena continued softly. "I just hope Kid will be fine."
Serge stared at the warm pouch in his hand. A great responsibility had fallen on Serge's shoulders. Kid's life was in his hands, he chanted repeatedly to himself.
"Will you be heading home first?" asked Leena.
"Yes, I will," Serge replied. "It is only right that she knows that I am safe."
"But, of course."
"Let's go," Serge said.
Leena nodded.
Serge had Leena stand within the shadow on the sand. He bent down and touched the Astral Amulet to the pea-sized sphere that floated in mid-air. With a heart aching and pounding, he watched.
The rising smoke swiveled round and into the amulet. Flakes of white light appeared, rising from the circular shadow and surrounding Serge and Leena. The sparkle of lights grew into flares that diverted from their rising path to gather at the wooden amulet. Serge's body froze in motion, as he felt as if every inch was being stretched to the point of tearing. He could not grit his teeth and make a noise. He could only stand helpless, as the pain tore into his mind. Sounds of the mortal world soon faded away. Taking its place were those of violent winds brushing against his ears. A huge wave of froth blasted up from the green shadow on the ground and engulfed the two in a dizzying spin of water. The two stood in the center of the storm, but they stood unharmed as if they did in the eye of a twister. As water rushed into the distant heavens above, darkness crept up slowly from their feet.
Serge closed his eyes and allowed the Astral Amulet to work its magic, as he made his journey into a world that he hoped was his own. He was not certain if his encounter with Kid was of a coincidence, or of a predestined fate, but he was certain he liked none of both.