Disclaimer: I do not hold any rights to Chrono Trigger in any form or fashion, nor do I make any profit out of writing this fic.
Reviews: As ever, thank you all magnificent beings who have reviewed, especially those who review regularly:D
crazycutie2: Thank you, and sorry for not replying in the previous chapter, but your review got to me only after I posted the next chapter! And unfortunately, there's still some to go before any romance, because I'm a fan of really drawn out romances and of prbing deeply into the psyche of the characters involved. .
Indigo Tantarian: Thank you! I haven't been a Flea fan before, but now that I have him/her more detailed (slightly OC at that) in my mind, I'm becoming a real fan!
zipis1: Hahaha, glad to be of use ;) And as for the descriptions of Magus – I wanted to capture the feel of the game somehow. When I first played it, I had no idea about the plot or anything, so to a degree I was expecting Magus to be the final boss. After all, a HUGE part of the game is spent on pursuing him, so I wanted to capture the atmosphere of a character being unknown yet constantly present in the game. So I'm glad you liked it! And thanks for reviewing:)
Saikan: Hahaha, thank you. And true, but come on! That's well deserved! Magus is probably one of the most – if not the most – original characters in the whole RPG genre!
GoldenSunGeek: Yay! That's what I was going for! And I can relate to the sentiment of narrating battles, this fic popped into my mind first when I took Lucca, Magus and Frog on Death Peak and started adding dialogue between them, especially when trying to hide behind the tree... Luckily, I live on my own ;) And thanks for reviewing! -–Is shipping the clone frantically–-
ShadowCatYumi08: Thank you! The finding out about the mountain part was really confusing in the game, because some random people just mention the legend of Masamune and you're supposed to figure it out on your own... -.- And just one more chapter! ;)
Shaded Mazoku: Thank you! Battles really are a pain, especially since I'm more of a stream of consciousness type of writer (as evidenced by my other, atrociously long and non-actiony fic...). I didn't really get a chance to see how thou farest with it, since I only read your recent fic, but I still think you're being too generous ;) And come on! Magus is a whole-hearted, dedicated villain! He pulled a number on the entire race of Mystics, that's hard to top!
SayinaLegend1: Thank you! I am decided on Flea, but for suspense reasons, it's a secret! ;) But I do have quite a part for him/her, reaching beyond the data from the game, since I intend to add some and change some in that department. I know what you mean about mishmash-like battles, I often am compelled to skip an entire battle, both when reading and writing, just because it goes on forever and doesn't add anything to the story except hundreds of words -.- I tried to straighten out the Tata bit somewhat, since it's very dodgy in the game, so I hope it came out fine! And thanks again for reviewing!
Quizer: Thank you! And I give no refunds on the clone! A deal is a deal, so now you deal with him! ;)
The Dragon Sorceress: Hahaha, short and to the point, thank you!
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Chapter 08 – Heroes, Frogs and Lost Dinners
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"Aaaahhhhhhh!" The scream reverberated through the mountains as the boy producing it dashed past them. He looked about eleven or twelve, had a mop of violet spiky hair, a heroically red cape and an oversized shield. And a large, bronze medallion dangling from his neck. "Monsters! Monsters!" he howled while his legs dribbled against the ground like drumsticks and his shield clattered desperately. "Run awaaaay!"
He raced down the slope, nearly leaving a dust trail behind him, and the three companions stared after him, lost for words.
"Y, you don't think," Marle stammered finally, "that THIS was the Hero...?"
Lucca slowly reached up to fix her glasses, stupefied. "I can see now why the Knight Captain wanted to warn us... but, how on EARTH did anyone ever believe he was going to save Guardia?"
"A drowning man catches at a straw," Crono offered. "Although 'at a squirt' would be more appropriate here."
"Uh-hm," Marle agreed.
Around them, the trademark winds of Denadoro Mountains whooshed wistfully, as if in agreement. They had trekked up the mountains right after Crono had finished his scrambled eggs and orange juice. The trip had been a few hours' long, uninspiring and pretty much uneventful. The Denadoro Mountains – both in 600 A.D. and in their times – were the home of the Ogans, a very particular species of Mystics. Ogans were large and very burly, with thick, mud-green skin and long, forever entangled hair. Often referred to as 'Goblins', their build and apparel fell more under 'Ogres', but few people cared for terminological accuracy. Their main hobbies consisted of sleeping lazily in the sun and catching fish in the streams of the Denadoro Mountains.
However, during the Mystic War some Ogans began feeling Mystically patriotic and wanted to join the combat. Unfortunately – for them, that is – their lack of intelligence was rivaled only by their lack of beauty, so the best weapons they could devise were large wooden mallets. Against a boy like the one that had just scrammed down the mountain it was more than enough, but against them it was hardly threatening. The mallets caught on fire easily, causing the Ogans to thrust them aside with looks of such utter befuddlement on their thickset faces that the group just couldn't help laughing, loosing points for combat style.
After such a monotonous trek they were finally nearing the top of the south peak, just as the sun was reaching the horizon. Leaving the scarady Hero to make it back down on his own – he did make it all the way up after all, as surprising as it was – they hiked up along the stream and soon found the waterfall. And next to it, gaped a dark entrance to a deep cave.
Cautiously, they entered the darkness of the cavern and followed a damp corridor deep into the mountain. It led to a spacious cave, surprisingly bright thanks to a shaft that seemed to connect the cave to the outside, allowing sunlight to disperse the darkness. The bright sunbeam was falling strait down onto a raised platform in the back of the cave. In the middle of the platform a sword was rammed into the ground, its red hilt glistening in the light of the sunbeam, in a manner perfectly befitting a heroic story. What didn't befit the heroic story was the small green-haired boy, around five or six years old, who was sitting in front of the platform, playing with a few stones.
"Huh?" he boy raised his head, noticing them. "Here for the Masamune?" he asked leisurely.
The three glanced to each to other, puzzled. The innkeeper did mention that some told of magical children guarding the sword, but... what the...?
Finally, Crono decided that 'no pain, no gain'. "Yes."
The boy got up and dusted off his pants. "Thought so... Wait a second, okay? Masaaaaa!" he hollered towards the pedestal. After that second another kid, an identical twin of the first one, appeared from the shadows of the cave.
"What...?" he yawned, stretching, then noticed the group. "Oh, not again! So, you want to get a name for yourself by grabbing the Masamune? What buffoons!" He eyed them up and down in obvious disapproval.
The other kid snickered. "Humans are so... silly! It's how you USE the sword that's important... not who owns it!" Tilting his head, he turned to his twin. "So, are we gonna test them?"
"Yup," replied the yawning one. "Just like the usual. They can entertain us for awhile."
"All right!" the first one jumped up, grinning broadly. "Here we go! Whooosh!"
Suddenly, the two kids swirled around and with a slight pop changed into two short green-skinned creatures. Both had beak-like mouths, white eyes and wore white flowing clothes, and unlike the Ogans, they both looked like proper goblins.
Lucca pushed her glasses up, her eyebrows rising. What on earth...? Not only was it highly weird that two kids were stuck in a cave along with a sword, not only one of them referred to the other as 'Masa', while the sword was called 'Masamune', but now they both changed forms! Yet her astonished considerations were cut short by having to prepare for an attack. The creature she guessed to be 'Mune' was jumping up and down, his robes flaring, in clear anticipation of the fight. She reached for her gun, but Marle's voice made her pause.
"Hold on, hold on," the Princess demanded, waving her hands. "You're going to fight us just like that...?"
Mune ceased his jumping and the creatures frowned, looking at Marle questioningly. "You said you wanted the Masamune, so you have to fight to prove your dubious worth," Masa said finally.
Marle replied with a dubious glance of her own. "But if you're some sort of guardians of the sword, shouldn't you test our heroism and such? You know, whether we're worthy to be the heroes. If we defeat you, we'll only prove we're strong, but we could use the sword for evil purposes anyway."
Crono and Lucca looked to Marle appreciatively. That was a very valid point!
"Yeah," Crono agreed, turning back to the creatures, "shouldn't you be testing our moral integrity and the righteousness of out intentions? We're here to obtain the legendary sword and defeat the evil rising in the land and you just want to brawl with us?"
Mune made an annoyed face and was about to retort, but his double stopped him with a wave of a hand and narrowed his white eyes at the group. "What exactly did you say you want the Masamune for?"
"We didn't say because you didn't ask us!" Marle pointed out indignantly.
"To defeat Magus, putting it simply," Lucca cut in obligingly.
Mune whistled uneasily while Masa, who was clearly the brains of the duo, eyed them up and down carefully. "You do know he'd turn you into fodder on the spot, right?"
Marle turned her nose up at them huffingly. "Don't write us off for garbage just yet! We know magic!"
Two sets of white eyes focused on them suddenly, narrowing in scrutiny. "Magic, you say...?" Masa said finally. "All right, show us! Just whip out your best and don't worry, you're not gonna hurt us."
"We'll see about that," Marle muttered crossly, her hand already up. Somehow, those two strange creatures rubbed her the wrong way, assuming who- knows-what about them.
All three focused and blasted away at the goblin-like creatures with all the magic they could muster. Neither of the olive-colored duo appeared affected much by the attack, although Mune seemed to get excited and replied with an attack of his own. He sent a powerful wind blast their way and the group was hurled back through the shadowy cave. When they collected themselves from the rocky ground, rubbing the various body parts that suffered the most at the impact, Mune was already passing his judgment on them.
"Man," he groaned, turning to his counterpart, "their magic could hardly scrape the grime off from that idiot Magus' smelly boots!"
But Masa ignored both his brother and his assessment of Magus' personal hygiene and intelligence. He was watching the group intently, his odd white eyes narrowed in thought. Finally, he turned to his brother and began whispering something into his pointy green ear. All the group caught was 'clothes', 'gun' and 'fix', but it was hardly enough to put together what was passing into Mune's ear.
Once his double was done, Mune eyed him skeptically. "You can't be serious..."
"It might be our best chance to get fixed," Masa replied, his eyes narrowing in consideration again.
Mune sighed and shook his head. "Whatever you say, brother. Last time we did it my way and we both know where that got us."
"All right," he turned to the group, who had been watching the scene in growing confusion, "we'll cut you a deal. See, we sort of have a personal history with Magus. He kinda... broke us."
"Broke you...?" Lucca repeated questioningly.
The two guardians nodded grimly. "So here's the deal," Mune continued, "you fix us and we help you kick his ass. Take it or leave it, but remember, no fixing, no help!"
"Fix you...?" Marle frowned, but got no reply. Masa and Mune only exchanged a meaningful glance and headed towards the pedestal and the sword thrust into the ground there. The three companions exchanged a glance of their own, a rather confused glance, and followed after the odd duo. To their surprise, once the two creatures approached the sword, they faded into nothingness, leaving the group alone in the cave and blinking in astonishment.
"What on earth is going on here...?" Lucca asked, slowly reaching up to adjust her glasses.
Marle made a puzzled face. "Maybe they're some kind of spirits of the sword...? Legendary swords often have their own spirits in stories..."
If those two were the spirits of the sword, Crono thought, then what did they mean by 'broken'...? Frowning, he moved forward and stepped onto the steps carved in rock that led up the platform. Ahead, the red hilt shone, illuminated by the pillar of faint light, like a distant promise of righting all the wrongs of the world. Slowly, Crono reached out to take hold of the legendary sword, a great part of him savoring the moment. But as soon as his fingers curled around the cold hilt and he pulled the blade out of the ground, the illusion was shattered. Bright light shimmered within his hand and once it dispersed, he was left holding a cold metallic blade, broken off from a sword. If this was the Masamune, then it was the edge half of it.
"Broken...?" Marle said slowly, her eyes glancing up from the wrecked blade to Crono's stunned face.
"Broken," he confirmed just as slowly, tentatively gripping the blade to test if it was real. It was, or at least felt as tangible as could be.
Next to them, Lucca heaved a sigh. Odd children changing into even odder creatures; the odder creatures becoming one with a sword; the sword turning out to be an illusion – it seemed that reality was out to prove to her that it wasn't real at all. Sighing once more, she decided to peg the pesky reality for the moment. "If I get this right, we're to find the other half and then fix the sword. But how are we to do that? The other half could be anywhere and we're on a tight schedule."
Blinking a few times, Crono shook himself out of his daze. "They said that Magus broke them, so maybe he has the other half...?"
A roguish chuckle suddenly filled the cave and Crono almost dropped the blade in surprise. "That's simple, silly human!" said Mune's voice, "Find the Hero and you'll find us!"
They stared at the sword, mouths slightly agape. The sword had just proven beyond any remaining doubts that it was highly magical, even if broken. But... the Hero? Lucca opened her mouth to ask how finding that little scarady squirt could help them find the other half of the Masamune, but Masa's voice interrupted her.
"Allow me," the more mature of the odd disappearing duo said, "We'll ride the wind to the base of the mountain!"
Before they could ask what he meant, or object to the frivolous idea, a sudden gush of wind curled around them. Among surprised gasps and frantic grabs at their possessions, they were snatched by the powerful whirl and lifted up into the air. The wind carried them up and through the shaft, towards the fully reddened skies. Marle's gleeful 'weeee!' accompanied their bizarre ride on the winds down the rocky mountains of Denadoro.
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"Where could that brat have run off to?" Marle asked irritably as they were once more entering Sandorino village. After the windy ride down the mountain, they had kept an eye on the 'Hero', hoping to find him fast and thus solve Mune's enigmatic advice. But all they found was a discarded shield on the road leading back to the village. Having no other clues, and needing a place to stay anyway since the evening was beginning to loom heavily on the horizon, they headed back to the Sandorino Inn.
"I'm not sure if tracking him down is even worth the effort," Lucca said as Crono pushed the wooden door and she entered the establishment after Marle. "It could take days and we could end up missing the chance to stop Magus."
Walking through the door behind her, Crono frowned. "We've only used up two days so far, so we still have a lot of the month left."
Lucca turned back to him, ready to remind him that they didn't know exactly how long they had and that it could very well be just a week and not a month, but Marle's surprised voice made her pause.
"Look!" the Princess was pointing to a table in the back of the Inn's dining area. "Tracking him down won't be much of an effort!"
It was evening already and the Inn was much more crowded than it had been in the morning. Many of the inhabitants of the village sought a breather after a day of labor and had come for a pint or two. Cressets and candles illuminated the inn, basking it in an invitingly warm glow. People sat around the tables and the bar, talking and drinking. And at the table in the back, under the shadow of the wall, sat their lost Hero. Still in his heroic red cape, but looking gloomy and despondent, he was picking idly at the food on the plate in front of him.
Exchanging sneaky grins, the group made their way through the clamor of the inn and drew back the chairs at his table, joining his corner of gloom.
"Why so miserable, oh Great Hero?" Lucca quipped, propping her chin on her hands, a wily grin stretching her lips.
The boy's head jerked up to them and his eyes widened in apparent recognition. "You guys were in the mountains! And you made it back!" he paused suddenly, his mood visibly dropping once more as Lucca's words fully registered with him. "I'm not the Hero...," he confessed quietly, his eyes lowering down to his plate again.
"But isn't that the Hero Medal...?" Marle asked innocently, leaning forward towards the bronze medallion hanging from the boy's neck.
The boy sighed heavily, his hand reaching up to clasp around the medal. "It's not really mine... I just found it by accident." He sighed again, as if battling with his thoughts. "I... A guy dropped it in the Cafe in Porre, where I'm from. I'm Tata, by the way," he looked up to them apologetically.
They each uttered their respective names, not really bothering to add 'nice to meet you's to them.
"So?" Marle prompted Tata with a wave of her hand. "Who was the guy then?"
Tata heaved another sigh, although looking slightly more reconciled with the end of his heroic career. "He looked really weird. He was dressed like a human and walked like a human, but he looked just like a large frog. At first everybody thought he was a Mystic when he came to the cafe one night, but he only wanted to know how the war was faring. Still, Rolf, the butcher's son – he can be really aggressive after a few beers – started pushing the guy around, telling him to get lost. And then the medal fell out of his pocket. It rolled under one of the tables and nobody noticed it but me."
He paused once more, glancing up to them apologetically again. "I just wanted to sell it at first, but then on my way to the market a soldier started shouting that it's the Hero Medal and that I must be the Hero. And I... sort of went along with it... I'm really sorry..." He seemed to shrink in his seat, probably expecting a thorough scolding, but neither of the three could be bothered to discipline the naughty wannabe hero.
"A frog...," Lucca repeated slowly, frowning. "Could it be our froggy acquaintance from saving Queen Leene...?"
"It sounds like him," Crono agreed pensively. "Did he talk funny?" he asked, turning to Tata.
The boy nodded, his mouth full. Having shared his burden he appeared to have regained some of his spirits and was now finishing his cold meal. "You know him?" he asked, swallowing.
"We might," Marle replied. She hadn't really met Frog in person, but Crono had described the strange knight to her in sufficient detail.
Tata swallowed down another bite of the cold potatoes, watching them intently. Reaching a decision, he put down the fork and looped the medal off from his neck. "Here," he said, placing it on the table. "Return it to him then, if you find him..."
Crono reached out and picked up the medal, bringing it closer to his eyes. The girls leaned in from his sides to have a better look too. It was quite large, around four inches in diameter. An intricate pattern of delicate leaves was carved onto it, cut in the middle by an image of a large sword. Whether it really dated back to Sharr was a matter of doubt, but it certainly looked old. The bronze edges were indented in several places and the faded and unreadable inscription on the back was in written in an ancient looking style.
"You know," Crono said to his companions, frowning lightly, "I can't help feeling that we're doing somebody else's job. The Hero's, more specifically. Battling the undead, obtaining the Masamune and now the Hero Medal – shouldn't the Hero be doing all that?"
"Maybe you are the Hero," Marle offered with a light smile.
"Could be," Lucca agreed, her eyes twinkling teasingly behind her glasses. "Especially if we are stuck in a loop, then we're simply doing what we're supposed to."
Crono replied with a dubious glance. "I'm not saying I wouldn't enjoy being the Hero, I mean, who wouldn't, right?" Tata could only nod to that, despite feeling slightly confused by the conversation. "But I was actually thinking about Frog."
All three people at the table stared at him silently. It was Tata who finally broke the impasse. "You mean... the frog guy is the Hero...?"
Crono half-shrugged, rotating the medal in his hands and watching it pensively. "It does seem like that. Think about it; he had the medal, is a skilled swordsman and has a hero's personality – noble and honorable."
"But...," Marle countered slowly, "he's a frog!"
"Now you're being needlessly judgmental," Lucca scolded her, waving her hand at Cecil, who was bustling around the crowded room. They could just as well grab something to eat while they were here. "But regardless of whether he is or isn't – not to mention that I don't see the medal actually picking somebody – it's interesting that he had it. Maybe he's the one who has the other half of the Masamune."
Pausing as she recalled the original reason for searching for the Hero, she turned to Tata questioningly. "Just to be extra prudent, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the other half of the Masamune, would you?"
Tata scrounged up his face in reply, "Whatcha taking about...? The other half of the Masamune...?"
Clearly he had no idea on what Lucca meant. "So," Marle sighed, "if we want to fix the Masamune, we should find Frog. Any ideas?"
A silence fell upon the table. None had any; as far as they knew, Frog used to live in Guardia Castle, as a bodyguard of the Queen, but he had left after the Queen had been rescued. Where to, he didn't say and they never asked.
It was once more Tata who broke the silence. "Actually," he said, looking at them intently from under the mop of his unruly violet hair, "I think I know."
The three companions glanced to him curiously. "Then pray tell," Lucca said, pushing her glasses up, "and we won't tell anyone how 'eager' you were to get off the mountain."
Tata cast her a quick thrown look but accepted the offer. "When I got here two days ago, Toma, the explorer, was here too. The village chief hired him to find the Rainbow Shell–"
"The Rainbow Shell...?" Marle cut in, intrigued by the odd name.
Tata nodded eagerly. "It's some kind of a mythical material that would supposedly make great reflective armor. So the chief hired Toma to find it. When I got here, Toma was spending the money on cider and insisted on talking to me. He often comes to Porre, so I know him well, and I guess he wanted to brag about the Rainbow Shell to me. But he was already woozy by the time and soon slipped off into talking about his other finds."
He paused, eying them cautiously. "Just for the record, you do know that a lot of what Toma says is pure baloney, right?"
Lucca nodded, again propping her chin on her hands. "We figured as much. So he said something about Frog?"
"Yeah," Tata confirmed, "he said that he had run into that frog guy near the southern woods. And that the southern woods are full of Mystic Frogs, but that this one was different, with a sword and a cape. I was a bit worried then, you know, that the frog told Toma about the medal, but he didn't say anything about it."
He seemed willing to tell them more about his stress over being the Hero, but the party wasn't interested in his inner turmoils. Southern woods, eh? Lucca thought, frowning slightly. If she recalled correctly, southern woods weren't exactly in the south, but rather to the south-west, beyond the Rokanaro Mountains. It would take them at least a few days to get there, at least a week if they had to walk. And on each of those days Magus might create Lavos and thus render their voyage completely pointless, albeit interesting.
Sighing, she turned her attention to Tata once more. "And you also wouldn't happen to know anything about Magus, right?"
"Other than that he's an ultra powerful evil mage...?" Tata clarified and the party gave him flat looks. "...No."
Then the best clue they had as to the whereabouts of the dark mage was the information on his 'evil lair' on an island to the east. It did seem likely that an evil mage about to create a world-destroyer would do it in his den of iniquity, but unfortunately they didn't really know which island it was, or how to get there. Not to mention that if Magus really was authentic and kick-ass powerful then they could without a doubt use the help of the magical Masamune. Then it was off to the southern woods with them.
Crono and Marle were watching her patiently, waiting for her decision. Just like Crono was their unofficial treasurer, she was the unofficial – or maybe official – keeper of the historical integrity and temporal plausibility of their adventure. "To the southern woods then," she told them. Crono grinned at once, undoubtedly pleased by the prospect of pursuing the legendary sword until it was all heroic again.
Just as they had finally set a new course of action, Cecil finally made her way to the table, and they ordered healthy rations of fried potatoes and meat pie, the specialty of the establishment. Funny, Lucca thought while Marle engaged in some small talk with the fake hero Tata. They were on the general mission of stopping Magus, freshly on the quest of repairing the sword that had a personal history with Magus and had been broken by Magus, and now they were ordering dinner from a girl who had had a run-in with Magus. If he wasn't authentic, then he was one hell of a busy fabrication.
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"I HATE frogs!" Lucca grumbled, giving the innocent looking amphibian a wide berth.
On the forest path ahead of her, Marle chuckled in amusement. "It's funny how you hate the small ones more than the large Mystic ones."
"It's because the small ones are the sneakiest," Lucca replied indignantly. "One moment you see them, the next one you don't. And in the meantime, they could've sneaked down your pants."
Both her companions chuckled at her, but Lucca didn't have the energy to further enlighten them to the inherent perfidy of the frog species. They had been walking through the southern woods for hours now, following various paths and looking for any signs of the knight who looked like a frog and used to own the Hero Medal. As they have learnt, the woods were actually called the Cursed Woods by the people from the nearby villages, but so far they hadn't encountered any ghouls or specters that would validate the name. What they had encountered were frogs, frogs and once more frogs. Normal – that is sneaky – frogs and Mystics frogs – large, annoying and spewing poisonous gases and sticky saliva on them.
What they had also found in the Cursed Woods were marshes. Left, right and center; marshes, swamps and bogs; everywhere. One step off a path almost invariably meant sinking into a smelly pothole, full of rotting wood and mosquito larvae. All three of them were now dirty, grimy and sweaty almost head to toe, although they hadn't been all that clean to begin with, thanks to the hurried journey from Sandorino to the south.
They had set off next morning after talking to Tata, catching a wagon ride to another village further south. From then on, they had spent four days on the journey, getting all possible lifts and even hiring themselves out to a man who wanted protection against the Mystics on his way. Even sleep had been a precious commodity, so sanitation had been pretty much on the bottom of their priority list. Thankfully, the Cursed Woods smelled so profoundly that they couldn't smell themselves anymore, a most welcomed improvement.
"Not to be a pessimist," Marle said suddenly, stopping in her tracks, "but haven't we already been in this part of the forest...? Look at that tree, I'm pretty sure we've passed it before."
She was pointing to a tree growing a little off the path. Surrounded by a frill of entangled bushes, the tree formed a peculiar shape out of its gnarled branches, almost resembling a man standing upright with his hands outstretched up to the skies.
Crono groaned tiredly. "This can't be the same tree! We've been walking for hours!"
'This work is brutal', Lucca remembered suddenly, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. Resignedly, she watched as Crono trudged on towards the tree, as if wanting to confirm it was really there. But just as he stomped onto the edge of the bushy frill around the tree, his footing gave in and with a short outcry of surprise he disappeared from their view, tumbling down into a hole in the ground.
"Crono!" Marle cried out, rushing towards him.
"Crono!" an oddly familiar voice called out from the hole, "is this thee? Thou art here to practice thy skill in swordplay?"
A painful moan followed the far-fetched question and impossible accent. "Good news," Crono's voice said weekly, "I found him..."
As Lucca learnt when she descended down the ladder after Marle, the hole was Frog's residence. A candle on the table illuminated the capacious hovel. A bed made of dried grass, a few wobbly chests, a table and a few chairs furnished the odd dwelling. On the ground laid Crono, groaning and rubbing his aching bones. Above him stood Frog, just as frog-like as he was the last time she had seen him. His bulbous yellow eyes were fixed on Marle, a look of puzzlement on his green frog face.
"Thou couldst be a twin to the Queen...," he said slowly.
Marle flashed him a smile. "I know, everybody says so! But I'm Marle," she extended a slender hand to the short knight who shook it dazedly. "Nice to meet you!"
"The delight be all mine, I assure thee," he replied and blinked slowly, accepting the reality of Marle's appearances.
Lucca moved to the table, brushing off a bit of grime from her clothes and sitting down on one of the chairs. "Frog, we have an odd question to ask you, if you don't mind. Have you by any chance lost a medal lately...?"
"Medal...?" Frog repeated, his expression guarded.
Lucca gestured to Crono, who pulled out the Hero Medal from his pocket. Finally rising from the ground, he handed it to Frog, whose eyes widened once more. "Th, the Hero Medal!" he stammered.
Crono grinned. "If we got it right, it's rightfully yours and you lost it in the Cafe in Porre." Frog nodded slowly.
"So you are the Hero then!" Marle exclaimed, both surprised and relieved that they had found the Hero in Frog.
But the short knight remained silent for a long moment, looking down to the bronze medallion in his hands. "The Hero...," he said quietly at length, "...I am not he..."
Lucca glanced to her companions, her frown reflected on their faces. Had Frog too just found the medal? Would they have to look further to find the Hero mentioned by Mune? "So," she said, recalling the bottom-line reason for their visit, "you wouldn't happen to know anything about the other half of the Masamune, would you?"
Frogs eyes shot up to her, startled. Next to him, Crono untangled the knots of the cloth that held the broken-off edge tied to his back. As the cloth slipped away, the smooth blade caught the light of the candle, reflecting it in a muted shine. A strangled gasp escaped the knight's throat and he stared at the blade, seemingly transfixed. "Th, the Masamune...!" he stammered once more, his eyes even wider than before. "How didst thou... Where...?"
"We got it in the Denadoro Mountains," Marle supplied, watching the stunned knight curiously.
Slowly, Frog reached out to slide his gloved fingers down the blade in Crono's hands. "...in a cave near the waterfall...," he whispered quietly to himself.
The group shot each other wide-eyed glances. Had Frog been there or had he just heard the legend, like they had...? Suddenly, the knight raised his head, looking to them questioningly. "To what end didst thou search for the sword...? Why...?"
Lucca had the answer rehearsed. "To defeat Magus, putting it simply."
Frog regarded them silently, his expression guarded once more. "To defeat Magus...," he said finally, his voice quiet, "'tis impossible..." Hesitantly, he turned around and walked over to one of the wooden chests under the porous wall. "'Tis said that Masamune hast the power to cut down his wickedness, but...," he opened the chest, retrieving an elongated object, "...'twas neigh more than a legend." In his hands rested the red hilt they had seen in the Denadoro Mountains, attached to a few inches of a broken blade.
"So you do have it!" Marle exclaimed, "Alright!"
"Aye," Frog nodded dully, looking down to the wrecked blade in his gloved hands. "I hath it. 'Tis but a symbol of a shatter'd hope now, of a life cutst short."
Lucca fixed her glasses pensively. Magus had broken the sword, they knew that much. But it seemed that Frog knew more on the subject. His amphibian face was hard to read, but the tone of his voice spoke volumes. "You... have some personal history with Magus, right?" she ventured cautiously.
Frog did not reply. He stood silently, his eyes cast low onto the sword. "There's nary a thing I canst do against Magus. Not a soul remains to mend'eth the Masamune." With a heavy sigh, he placed the broken hilt on the table. "And even if the sword hadst been whole, I... I hath no right to wield it."
The group watched him quietly, all unsure what to say. Something was weighting heavily on his heart, but he did not seem willing to share his burden with them and all felt it would've been inappropriate to pry directly.
Sighing too, Marle sat down at the table next to Lucca. "Are you sure it cannot be repaired though?" she asked Frog.
The short knight shook his head. "I know not what hand and power captur'd the magicks of the sword, and nor dost I know of a sword maker able to reforge it."
Lucca frowned pensively, watching the red hilt resting within the circle of the candlelight. Was it really impossible to mend the sword? Masa and Mune, the inexplicable spirits of the sword whose nature she preferred not to ponder at the moment, acted as if it could be fixed, and as if it was their group in particular who could do it. Her frown deepening, she pulled the broken sword closer to herself for a detailed inspection.
"There's something written here," she informed her companions, scraping off some of the dirt at the base of the hilt, "engraved with archaic letters."
Marle and Crono peered over her shoulders, watching her trace her finger over the ancient looking symbols.
"Couldst it be the name of the maker?" Frog stipulated.
"Hmm, maybe," Lucca replied, bringing her face an inch away from the sword. "I think I can read it, even though the letters are really ancient..." Slowly, she spelled the name engraved onto the blade. "Me...l..chi...or... Melchior!"
The group looked to each other in befuddlement. "Melchior...?" Marle repeated incredulously. "As in Melchior from Medina...? But... how is that possible? Didn't you just day that the letters were ancient?"
"Thou knowest the maker of the sword...?" Frog asked, his expression unreadable.
Lucca pushed up her glasses. "We know a swordsmaker named Melchior, but..." Frowning once more, she regarded Frog carefully, as he stood in front of her behind the table. She was about to say that the Melchior they knew was from 1000 A.D., but Frog knew nothing about their time-traveling. Just as they were too polite to ask him about his relation to Magus, he had been too polite to question them when they had first met. But there was no harm in telling him their story, to the contrary, they might learn worthwhile information in return.
"Frog," she said, glancing meaningfully to her companions, "there's something we need to tell you and you better sit down for it."
Frog's yellow eyes blinked curiously, but he obliged and sat down at the table. Lucca, with eager help from Marle, launched into the explanations, trying to make it as plausible as possible. To his credit, Frog took the news with composure and poise. The sight of the Gate Key convinced fully him that they were speaking the truth. Once he accepted their unusual origin, they proceeded to tell him why exactly they were after Magus. He listened in silence to what gruesome future awaited the world if Magus was allowed to create Lavos.
"To take the lives of millions...," he said bitterly, turning his head away once they were done. "Is there naught he holdeth holy...? Naught he holdeth dear...?"
They sat wordlessly around the flickering candle, allowing him to gather his thoughts after hearing such gloomy news. He seemed to weigh something carefully in his mind, until he turned to them inquiringly. "And thou sayest Masamune couldst be repaired...?"
"Hard to say, really," Lucca replied, shrugging lightly. "We would have to go see Melchior, but... going back to the Gate and then back here again would take at least eight days, if not more. And we have already spent five days on pursuing the sword."
Frog shook his head. "Without the Masamune, thou hath neigh a chance against Magus. His magicks...," he hesitated, turning his head away from them. "...'tis just impossible to overcome him without the help of the sword."
Crono and Marle turned to Lucca questioningly and she frowned, propping her chin on her hands. The flame of the candle flickered idly as she evaluated the new situation. They seemed to be caught between the Scylla of being too slow to stop Magus and the Charybdis of being too weak to defeat him. She wasn't as sure as she had been that Magus never existed, but that somebody named Magus existed didn't necessarily entail that he was a powerful warlock. Yet instantly, memories of the undead and of the odd spirits of the sword wafted uninvited into her mind and she grimaced in displeasure. All right, so there were things here that didn't easily yield to reason. In which case, the bottom-line of their situation was that on one hand they risked failure but on the other waited failure and their own demise. And demise was something she most definitely didn't wish to include in the itinerary of their bizarre adventure.
"Fine," she sighed finally, pushing her glasses up, "let's go see Melchior. Although you do realize that we'll have to go through the cupboard again, right?"
Crono and Marle chuckled at the memory. "Maybe we should get a few gift cups for the Imps or something?" Marle suggested frivolously and got up from her chair, stretching. "So, we're off again?"
Frog, who had been watching the group pensively, cut in. "The night is near upon the forest, thou shouldst not attempt to cross it after dark. Remain'eth here for the night."
"Good point," Crono nodded, "we got lost even during the day."
Under the weight of the circumstance, the party agreed to spend the night in Frog's odd abode. Their host treated them to a surprisingly tasty dinner and tea, but barely spoke throughout the evening. When the night came, he generously offered them his bed and Marle and Lucca made themselves comfortable on the grassy cot, while Crono once more consented to the floor. Even as they were falling asleep, Frog remained seated at the table, watching the dying flame of the candle. They didn't know what thoughts circled his mind, nor what past linked him to the Masamune and Magus, but all instinctively felt that those questions should be left unasked.
Frog remained at the table long after his three astonishing guests had fallen asleep and long after the candle burnt out. Cyrus..., he thought, his fingers stroking the Hero Medal, its engraved surface as cold as a harsh rebuttal. Honor was what the medal stood for, honor was what he had once believed in, what he strived to be, what he admired. What honor had he left now, what worth? A life that was not his own, full of lies and secrets, years and value taken from him in but one fateful moment.
In the shadows of the hovel that had once been his only refuge, a pale face loomed before him, narrow eyes as red as blood sneered at him, eyes forever burnt onto his memory. Magus... 'What's the matter?' a mocking voice asked him from the shadows, 'Aren't you going to try your luck?'
His hands tightened around the medal. He hadn't. Not then and not during the years that had passed since. Was he too ashamed...? Too torn to avenge his dearest friend...? Or was he just afraid...?
Yes, he admitted to himself tiredly, he had been afraid then, petrified to the end of his wits. Even anguish and loss weren't enough overcome the dread the mage left in his wake. They hadn't known then, had no idea what horror they would find, what immovable power. Wearily, he glanced to the three young ones sleeping nearby. They didn't know either. They sought to stop Magus, yet just had no idea what they would have to face. But... Lavos, he thought, his eyes returning to the bronze medal. Those children were not pursuing revenge or personal gain. They wanted to save a future that they would never see come to pass. Was that not honor? Was that not value?
His jaw clenched. Magus... Like a nightmare the mage had haunted his thoughts for years, returning to taunt him every day and every night. But the mage's wickedness and past sins were nothing in comparison to the horror he was about to inflict upon the world. No, not just to avenge, but to save those who couldn't save themselves, the mage had to be stopped. Had to be killed.
When the morning came and the three unique travelers awoke, he faced them somberly, his mind made up. "If thou permitst it," he spoke, "I shall go with thee and aid thee against Magus."
They were curious to hear the story behind his decision, the story of his past, he knew that, but wasn't ready to share it with anyone. Perhaps later, perhaps if they succeeded in repairing the Masamune. But they didn't ask and only agreed to his offer.
Once they were ready, he led them out of the cursed forest, cursed with memories of the past, of a life lost and of a hope forgotten.
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"Move yer arses, ya willies!" Mad Ronah hollered at his workers, giving one a swift kick on the behind. The abused laborer shot the captain a dark glance and trudged on, carrying a heavy crate up the ramp and onto the ship. Around him, the rest of the crew scuttled about under the morning sun, completing any last minute tasks before sailing out.
The ship, christened simply The Lady by her captain, Mad Ronah, stood anchored at the pier in Porre, ready to spring out onto the waves. It was a spunky two-masted and gaff rigged schooner, small and nimble, and somehow looking as crazy as her captain. Mad Ronah was a brawny man with wild top of brown curly hair and a surprisingly well-kempt moustache and small beard. The numerous round earrings along the lines of his ears further emphasized his image of a wild 'sea dog'. He was notorious for accepting any mission, no matter how life-threatening or plain insane. It was this propensity for insanity that earned him the nickname 'Mad Ronah', although he himself preferred to be called 'Mad Captain Ronah', thank you very much.
His infamous reputation was also the reason why the party of – as of now – four time-travelers were currently standing on the pier, under a sky full of seagulls and in front of The Lady. As they had left the Cursed Woods, Frog told them that perhaps traveling to Truce by sea would be faster and easier, especially since they would not have to plough through the Zenan Bridge again. The problem with the idea, and generally with sailing to Truce during the Mystic War was – as Frog further told them – that the only sea route led right next to Magus' island.
That was how they found out that Frog knew well which island it was. It seemed to be common knowledge around Porre, albeit completely useless knowledge. The island – very appropriately known as Devil's Mane – was surrounded by rocky cliffs and was thus inaccessible. Although of course nobody was mad enough to go anywhere near it anyway. ...Except for Mad Ronah, at least as far as the folk word went. Deciding to take the chance and seek out the insane captain, they traipsed through the countryside and reached Porre late evening two days later.
Despite being still medieval, Porre was already an impressively large and populated settlement. The hallmarks of war were visible – soldiers dotted the streets, armor and weapons were offered in every shop and every man between the ages of fourteen to fifty had been in this or another way drafted. But the town didn't look in any way damaged or under siege and Lucca couldn't help but wonder about the Mystics' strategy. As her father had told them, Magus had been first known for destroying two villages – the second of the events was generally known as the Massacre of Veste – and yet now the Mystics seemed to be sparing villages as such, and appeared to only go after armed resistance. So either there was some yet unseen logic in it, or evil minds were just too twisted to understand.
After gaining word here and there around the town, they learnt that Mad Ronah was to be found in the Scallywag Tavern. The establishment, located near the port, was rather shady and filled with jolly sounds of accordion and drunken singing, but their luck still held. When they found Mad Ronah, it turned out that he had just been hired by an eager merchant to sail to Truce on the morrow, a mission he didn't object to in the slightest. And when they suggested that he take them along, the infamous captain eyed them taxingly up and down. He didn't bat an eyelash at Frog or their grime-covered clothes; lingered a little longer around Marle's bust, making the Princess blush somewhat, and indifferently took in their mismatched armor and weapons. Finally, he flashed them a sassy grin and named the sum of money the favor would cost them. It was much, but not too much, especially since it included the journey back, after just a day's respite in Truce.
And so, after spending the night in the tavern – the sleeping rooms were usually used for an activity other than sleep, but they pretended not to know about it – the future slayers of Magus were now eyeing the white sails of The Lady.
"Ah, so ya didn't chicken out, huh?" Mad Ronah laughed bluntly as he noticed them. "My kinda people! Young and reckless! Then onboard ya go and we'll be off in a jiffy!"
Heaving a few sighs and assuring themselves that Mad Ronah surely knew what he was doing, since he was in mid thirties and still alive, the party climbed up the ramp. The journey was to take two or three days, depending on the weather, and they had been assigned a small cabin to sleep in. It had only two wooden bunks and two hammocks, but it was opulence to them at the moment.
Sighing, Marle plopped down on one of the bunks. "Lucca, when we're in Truce, could we stop by your house? I really need a bath!" She fingered a strand of her blond her. It was greasy, matted and mud clumps were stuck in between hairs. 'Need' was nowhere near the word!
"Sure," Lucca replied, dumping her bag onto the bunk under the porthole. "I could use a long soak myself. And plus, we could cadge some money off my dad, we're pretty near the bottom of the satchel now, right Crono?"
The spiky-haired boy nodded in agreement. They were down to a hundred or so Gil, barely enough for a night or two at an Inn.
Marle sighed again, leaning back on the bunk. It was yet another new thing she had learnt during the journey – that money was not always there. It was the first time really she had ever needed money. Before, everything just... was there for her. But, she frowned, it was better this way. True, she had already learnt that books omitted a lot of what adventuring entailed, all the mundanity of life for example, having to pee behind bushes included, but... At least now she had the chance to learn of the world on her own, to see what life was all about for a normal person, not for a Princess. And yet...
No, she still hadn't forgiven father for the way he treated Crono but... he was still her father, her only family. She had been gone for over a week now. Had he noticed her absence? Not the absence of the sole heiress to the throne, but the absence of her, his daughter whom he used to check up on at night when she was little...? Lying back on the bunk, she bit on her lip slightly. Maybe he did notice, maybe after their adventure was over he would have learnt to pay more attention to her? Maybe time would just sort things out...?
But if life was to be judged by omens, her luck was down and out. Not long after The Lady left Porre, Marle learnt that she was not cut out to be a sailor. Her stomach rebelled violently against the wild swaying of the ship and she was soon reduced to hanging limply over the railing on the deck, saying goodbye to her breakfast as it arched down into the waves. And having to endure a lot of jokes about 'land-lovers' and 'belly-rats' from the crew, who were just as cheeky and mad as their captain.
The weather too was not in her favor. As Mad Ronah told them, the winds were just right, so they should make it to Truce in but two days. But what was good for their journey, was highly unfavorable for her. The Lady kept bobbing up and down on the mighty waves, like a girl playing jump rope, and she had to stay out on the deck even long after the evening become the night. Her friends kept her company, much to her gratitude. Crono had been the most helpful, brining her tea when they had dinner and trying to cheer her up with random jokes. Lucca sat on the deck against the board, reading her book and looking as if she wasn't even aware of the swaying. Frog stood nearby, watching the sea with the same indomitable look he had on the morning he had joined them.
"Captain Ronah," he said suddenly, when Mad Ronah was passing by, "'tis be Devil's Mane?" He pointing to the dark horizon and his companions perked up their ears at the mention of Magus' island. Lucca got up to peer over the railing and even Marle lifted her limp head. They had been lounging against the starboard, and now, not far ahead, they could see a rocky island jutting sharply out of the sea. Under the pale light of the moon and the star-strewn night sky, the island looked foreboding and sinister. The rocky shores climbed high towards the dark skies, jagged and sharp. Waves crashed against them with brutal force, spraying back into the sea in high cascades.
"Aye," Mad Ronah agreed, nodding. "the son of a devil picked one hell of an island for his hideout. Any ship trying to get near will get crushed on the rocks. Mighty fine choice, I say."
Lucca pushed up her glasses, turning to the captain. "You're not afraid of Magus?" It would be a first since they had gotten to the Middle Ages.
Mad Ronah shrugged indifferently. "I don't have a bone to pick with 'em Mystics. Leave 'em alone and they leave me alone. I've seen strange lights over the island a few times but that'd be about it. Don't ya go and tell anyone about it though," he flashed them a grin, "I get paid a load extra just for being 'mad' enough to sail through here. So we always feed the townsfolk some wild stories about 'em vicious Mystics."
A few crew members snickered around them, jeering at those superstitious enough to fall for their contrivance. Mad Ronah joined the jokes and left the group in their own company. Somewhat amused herself, Lucca turned her eyes back to the island. Yes, those who were too scared to sail by an island just because it was an 'evil lair' of a mage deserved to be ripped off. But as she watched the jagged shores, a sudden logical dissonance struck her.
"If no ship can approach the shores, then how do they get off an on the island...?" she asked nobody in particular, frowning.
"Under the sea," Frog replied, from where he stood watching Magus' lair, his cape billowed out by the powerful winds. "There be a passage from the Chantas Mountains on the eastern shore of Zenan."
Must be quite inconvenient, Lucca thought without any particular empathy for the occupants of the island. Devil's Mane was not that far off from Zenan, but it still had to be quite a trek. One they would have to take themselves, the sooner the better. As she watched the island that looked as if it had been taken straight from a gothic story, she had to admit she was curious what they would find there. How did evil mages live? It would be undoubtedly quite funny if they found a quaint cottage with a rocking chair and reading glasses on the table.
Next to her, Crono patted Marle's back compassionately as the Princess retched loudly again, clearly not caring whether dark mages wore bunny slippers and read the Sunday News after a busy day of plotting nefarious schemes.
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A/N: Ehm, it's a rather odd chapter, as those who have suffered through it undoubtedly noticed. One, I changed some things, like Frog joining the party earlier, just for fun and convenience. Two, I got carried away with adding original details, as happens to me almost all the time... o.0 And three, the chat with Frog is IMO rather poorly written, but I'm too pressed for time to spend hours editing it.
And yes, I didn't make it with the non-Magus stuff here, so the next chapter will cover all that. I doubt I'll get to the Magus' Castle part in it, even if I cut a lot out, because I'd rather keep the castle part and the battle in one chapter, and it will undoubtedly take up some space...