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 who have spent your time on reviewing! I must say I'm really surprised that the fic has passed 50 reviews (and 1200 views! 0.0) – I never expected it to get more than 20-30! So thanks again:)
Shaded Mazoku: Thank you and I agree on all accounts. Although I guess to make it really realistic, the journey south Zenan would have to take a month or so. But I'll make up for it by making Zenan be a small continent and adding a new one later on ;) And I really can't wait to write some Magus, argh, such a long intro!
Indigo Tantarian: Thank you! I can't really see what's wrong with long chapters, expect maybe the structuring of the story, but I make them so not to stretch out the reader's patience too much o.0 And lol, any review is a good review!
GoldenSunGeek: Thank you! I made Frog join early so that he could use magic (otherwise they'd have to travel to the End of Time TWICE, grrr...), but I tried to keep him away from the story for now. And hahaha, glad you like the Robo clone! ;) Thanks again!
ShadowCatYumi08: Hahaha, thank you and oh, yes, there will be more, maybe even two follow-up fics ;)
zipis1: Hahaha, thank you and I agree wholeheartedly – finally, the Magus' castle part is next! If only I could somehow cut out the Lavos descent part and go straight to Zeal from there! And thanks for mentioning the specific parts you liked – I like that kind of reviews the most:D
ladyvella42: Thank you very much! I try to make the story more appealing by adding some ponderings (aka rumblings), so that it wouldn't be just a dry retelling of a story everybody knows anyway and hence I'm very glad to hear that it's liked! It does take hours to write this fic, mostly because I have to keep to an already planned plot and include all key events, brrr... But it's a great exercise for my still newbie writing skills, so it's worth the effort. And thanks again for mass-reviewing:)
The Dragon Sorceress: Hahaha, thank you! It's funny, but I too have imagined the Imps doing synchronized dancing and singing. More specifically, to the song of 'Welcome to Duloc' from Shrek... "Wipe your... face!" Same thing in their case, cough. I wish I could somehow incorporate it into the fic, but I probably won't be able to pull it off while keeping Magus even remotely serious. And thanks again for reviewing!
David Morris: Thank you for reviewing! I can't really talk about FFVI, since I haven't played it yet (I'm really behind schedule as it seems...) but Chrono Trigger is without a doubt near the top of the best RPGs ever. I especially appreciate its lack of cheap sentimentality and forced relationships (vide FFVII and FFVIII. Or Grandia, for that matter), it proves that 'less is more' when it comes to such things and makes up fully for the technical or system shortcomings. It does indeed take a brave writer to attempt novelization and I must admit upfront that I'm still very inexperienced at writing, so I'm open for all criticism and suggestions!
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Chapter 09 – Strong! Good!
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Something was wrong. Something was definitely not right. Ah, Lucca sighed, there was no ground under their feet, that's what.
"Aaaaahhhhh!"
She tumbled down the grassy slope, desperately trying to keep the glasses up her nose. Odd, she noted idly while the world turned upside down and back before her eyes. When they were leaving Medina and then the End of Time, it had been late night while here, in this new time, it was only late afternoon. Her biological clock groaned in mild protest, joining the complaints of her tumbling body. Great, another day that lasted 30 hours. And on top of that, they were still grimy and smelly!
But time was against them, so sanitation had to wait once more. After two days spent on The Lady, they had reached Truce in the afternoon. Mad Ronah said that they must have luck on their side, because that was the fastest he had made it to Truce ever. However, the initial arrangements for the cruise back still held, so they had two nights and one day before The Lady would sail out again. Wanting to use the allotted time to the fullest, they rushed to the Truce Canyon, then to the End of Time and then to Medina Village, 1000 A.D., on the way leaving Frog under Spekkio's care.
The medieval knight had been rather dazed when he had first learnt that not only they could use magic, but that quite likely so could he. But soon his determination took over once more and he held up quite well during his first journey through a Gate, remaining composed even upon reaching the odd platform floating in the sea of nothingness. He quickly grasped what they had grasped before too – that their inexplicable ability to use magic, given to them inexplicably by the inexplicable white fluff ball called Spekkio could be just the thing to give them the edge over Magus. Fortunately, it turned out that Spekkio could – and did – awaken magic in Frog, and they had agreed for the medieval knight to stay there and practice his new abilities of water magic, while they paid a visit to Melchior.
But when they traveled through the Mystic cupboard – this time breaking no cups – and reached Melchior's hut, the luck finally trotted away from them. Melchior easily recognized the sword when Crono unrolled it from the protective cloth, and his eyes grew as wide as Frog's had been.
"Th, the Masamune," he whispered, astounded. "How did you get it...?"
The group glanced to each other, just as astounded that he indeed had some relation to the magical sword. "Are you the one who forged it...?" Marle ventured finally.
For a long while, Melchior didn't reply. Walking over to Crono, he reached out one wrinkled hand and gently stroked the blade, deep in thought. They stood quietly around him, in the middle of his cozy living room, waiting patiently. "Yes," he said finally, "I'm the one who forged it."
Lucca pushed her glasses up, her eyes narrowing slightly. Unbeknownst to Melchior, they had obtained the sword in 600 A.D., that is four hundred years before the current date. So Melchior had forged the sword that existed centuries before him. There were only two ways to explain the seemingly impossible facts. One, Melchior just lied to them, or...
"You're not from this time, are you...?" she asked quietly.
Melchior's eyes rose to her, guarded behind his glasses. Once more, he remained silent for a long time, turning away from them.
"It doesn't matter now," he said finally, his voice low, "what matters is that the sword cannot be repaired."
"Eh?" Marle's eyes widened. "What do you mean it cannot be repaired? You made it, then surely, you can repair it!"
Melchior sighed, half-turning to them. "Masamune is made of Dreamstone, a red rock of unique properties that had once, long ago, been used as money. But now... it's just simply unavailable."
'Long ago', he said. 'Primitive', Marle had said when looking through the only time warp they had not visited yet, one of the original three at the End of Time. The natural conclusion to take the chance and see if the Gate would take them back in time enough to find Dreamstone was only further confirmed when they got back to the End of Time. Reaching the surreal street corner, they found Frog to be asleep on the stone floor. The odd old man was for once not sleeping himself, but rather, was stoically smoking a pipe and watching the darkness stretched out before him, as if he could see something they could not. Noticing their arrival, he informed them that their medieval friend had exhausted himself while practicing magic and that only a bag full of ethers would rouse him now. They had no complaints about it; the more Frog practiced, the stronger his magic and magical defenses would be, and thus, the greater their chances against Magus.
As they stood next to the overcome knight, Marle knitted her light-colored eyebrows, turning to the odd, lamppost-loving old man. "Do you know by any chance where does that Gate lead to? The one on the left." She pointed towards the platform to the side, where the Gates shone bluishly.
"Sure I do," the old man replied serenely. "To the prehistoric era."
"The prehistoric era...?" Marle repeated slowly.
"How prehistoric?" Lucca asked curiously. "I mean how far back into the past would it take us?"
The old man took the pipe out of his mouth. "Sixty five million years!" he announced poignantly, poking the pipe into the air.
The group felt their jaws go slightly slack. "Sixty... five... million...?" Crono repeated weakly.
The old man nodded readily. "Give a take a few years. Or a few thousand years. It's quite a nice place, from what I know. Sunny weather and untouched tropical forests. Great for a holiday."
Lucca felt a sudden need to rub her temples. The old man was quite an easy-going fellow, but they were denied the same peace of mind. Unless they hurried, The Lady would leave Truce without them and they'd have to trek around through Zenan Bridge again. "And do you know if we could find Dreamstone there?"
"Dreamstone?" the old man repeated, glancing to them candidly, "Sure, it's a rare material but you can find it in the prehistoric era."
And that was how they found themselves in their current position, that is tumbling down a prehistoric hill, amidst a prehistoric afternoon. The Gate leading there was even more inconveniently positioned than the one in the Imp cupboard – right over a steep rocky slope. The same slope they were tumbling down now, after learning that gravity be a harsh mistress.
In the accompaniment of a pained groan, Lucca's mad tumble down came to an end, and she landed on something surprisingly soft.
"Ouch...," complained the squishy surface, in an oddly muffled voice.
"Oh, sorry, Crono!" Finally letting go of her glasses, she lifted herself off her friend, who was currently kissing the dirt.
Next to them, Marle was dusting off her pants, but her movements were gradually slowing. "Um, guys...?" she called out, her eyes fixed on something ahead, "I think we have a problem..."
Lucca pushed up her glasses and Crono pushed himself off the ground. Both followed Marle's line of sight and found themselves faced with a multitude of creatures the likes of which they had never seen before. Green, scaly and overly muscular, they remotely resembled lizards, but unlike lizards, were as tall as them, wore brown loincloths and had very sharp teeth and ferocious expressions. Hastily, the party reached for their weapons, readying themselves for the seemingly imminent combat.
But before either side could attack, a new fighter appeared. From the top of a tall rocky hill nearby a woman jumped right in the midst of the green creatures, attacking them at once with brutal fierceness. She was no ordinary woman, that much was clear. Just one punch of hers sent any of the undeniably massive creatures flying back and they watched with wide eyes how in but a minute she put her opponents to the rout. As the strange creatures ran, she turned to them fully, as if not having done anything out of the ordinary, and they could get a better look at their savior.
The most noticeable thing was that the woman – or maybe rather girl – was indisputably a babe. Blond wavy hair, almond blue eyes and flawless figure included. In height, she stood above any of them. Lucca and Marle weren't particularly tall, while Crono – who liked to describe himself as a late bloomer – was but a 3 inches or so taller. The woman before them was half a head taller than Crono. She was dressed in what looked like a prehistoric bikini made of fur and thus her body was on full display. It was muscled yet nimble, powerful but graceful. The few scars on her tanned skin and a necklace made of pebbles and claws completed the image of a warrior princess.
She was looking them over carefully and the commanding air of authority surrounding her made them stand still for the inspection. Finally, she walked closer to them, her eyes focused on Crono.
"You strong," she said, tilting her head appreciatively. "What name?"
"C... Crono," the spiky-haired boy replied. She spoke brusquely and with an obvious disregard for function words and grammar, but the message was clear.
"Crono, huh?" A spunky glint appeared in her blue eyes. "Me, Ayla. Ayla like strong people."
Lucca inclined her head to Crono. "I think she likes you..." The statement was followed by a narrowing of eyes from Marle and an uncomfortable shift from Crono. How was that his fault exactly...?
But Ayla, who apparently captured the supposition, waved a strong hand dismissively. "Strong people good. Ayla respect all strong people. Men and women." Ah, a dedicated cavema... caveperson then, Lucca summed up, pushing her glasses up.
The said caveperson frowned pensively. "Ayla no see you before. Where from?"
Lucca frowned too. Now that was a 65 million point question. There was no possible way a story incorporating time warps and Ends of Time would make it through here. Tentatively, she tried a different approach. "We're from way after the day after tomorrow."
The blonde warrior girl raised an eyebrow and then burst out laughing, throwing her head back. "You funny! Ayla like funny people. Come to village! We eat, drink, good time!" She turned to leave, gesturing for them to follow with an authoritative flick of her hand. Clearly, she was used to being obeyed.
"We'd love to," Crono replied, earning him another scolding glance from Marle, "but we've got to look for Dreamstone."
"Stone?" the blonde turned to them again and then waved their objections aside. "Plenty stones! Here, there, at village. You take plenty! Come!"
Lucca dusted herself off and picked up her bag from where it had rolled down the cliff after her. "We might just as well. Maybe they do have Dreamstone in her village. And it wouldn't hurt to have a guide around the prehistoric era." Crono nodded in agreement, while Marle looked like she was going to object but changed her mind and closed her mouth.
Lucca chuckled inwardly as they were catching up with Ayla. It was obvious what went through Marle's head. On one hand, she objected to Ayla's expressed interest in Crono, however innocent, but on the other couldn't say anything about it directly, since her relationship with Crono was not in a stage advanced enough for direct proclamations. Lucca shook her head. It was clear that there was mutual interest between Marle and Crono, but in her opinion those two were playing a dangerous game. Marle was going to be Marle only till the end of their adventure and then it would be back to Princess Nadia and royal etiquette for her. The chances for a lasting relationship in such circumstances were minimal, even if those two weren't thinking about it at the moment. But what would be, would be, there was no use in thinking about it now and it was hardly her business anyway.
Ayla led them out of the rocky canyon they had landed in and towards the village nearby, surrounded by a palisade and full of huts that Marle had once described as primitive. They did indeed look primitive, like large cones made of animal hide. There was surprisingly many of them, as if the inhabitants opted to huddle together against any possible enemies. Entering the village, they soon learnt two things. One, Ayla was the chief of the village, which fully explained her authoritative manner. Two, there was going to be a large party that night, in celebration of the end of the rain season.
Oh, and three, they were the guests of honor. The moment they passed the palisade, they became the center of attention. The inhabitants of the village, all dressed in skimpy clothes similar to Ayla's, began crowding around them, touching their clothes and weapons. 'You strange', 'Wear odd skins' and 'Funny eye thing' sampled the numerous comments they received. Numerous questions also followed; 'Where from?', 'What it do?' or 'You trade?'.
They got so caught up in being the center of attention that before they knew it the skies darkened and the crowd carried them towards the large meeting site in the middle of the village, a prehistoric equivalent of a square as it seemed. A large fire blazed in the middle, sending embers up into the night, low stone tables held various odd dishes, wooden benches made of halved tree trunks offered reprieve. Many of the inhabitants were already there, laughing and drinking; some preparing leather drums and odd wooden instruments. Children ran among the legs of the adults, chasing sparks and furry prehistoric pets.
On a raised podium in the back stood Ayla and the crowd pushed them onto it to join her.
"Listen all!" The blond shouted, raising her arms. The crowd hushed at once, looking up to their leader. "New friends here!" she gestured to the group. "Strong man, Crono! Friends of Crono, Marle, Lucca!"
"Unga!" the crowd replied, shaking their own arms and grinning broadly.
Ayla swept a hand again, a playful gleam in her eyes. "Now, we dance!" Immediately, the drums and other instruments erupted into a cacophony that oddly resembled the music from the prehistoric concert at the Millennial Fair. Furry skirts and loincloths began shaking merrily around the fire, cheerful voices soared the night air. The party quickly rolled onto its full swing.
Well, that's nice and all, Lucca thought, pushing her glasses up, but they were here on business. Not to mention that they had left Frog at the End of Time.
"Pretty girl want poi?" a male voice asked somewhere behind her while she kept her eyes on the rest of the group. Crono and Marle were talking to Ayla and it seemed that the subject was more than right.
"Rare, red rock sign of power. Ayla strongest in Ioka Village. So Ayla's rock!" the blond warrior grinned. "You want, you challenge Ayla! You win, then Ayla give to you."
"Poi good," the male voice behind her persisted. "Pretty girl drink!"
Frowning, Lucca turned around and found herself faced with a prehistoric male specimen beaming invitingly at her and holding a bowl full of slightly greenish liquid. 'Pretty girl...'? Being placed on that side of the attractiveness frontier would be surprising under normal circumstances, but at the moment it was plain ridiculous. She was still dirty, sweaty and smelly. Her clothes had seen better days, no, better decades, her hair was sticking out from under her helmet in greasy strands and every visible part of her skin was covered in cuts, bruises and dark smudges.
But when the male's eyes slid down her body and he grinned appreciatively, hanging his eyes on her hips, the picture suddenly became clear. That's right, the modern standards of beauty required a woman to be a near stick, but a caveman saw things from a different perspective. Broad hips equaled good maternal potential and a certain amount of plump equaled good status. And she happened to have both. Well, without any coarse excess, but in comparison to Marle, who was as aerial as a sylphid, she was a downright block.
Glancing back, she noted that Crono was working hard towards obtaining Dreamstone. The 'challenge' Ayla mentioned had little to do with fighting as it seemed, but rather, was a soup guzzling contest. So now Crono and Ayla were seated on the podium, guzzling soup from wooden bowls like there was no tomorrow, while two assistants to the peculiar challenge waited to refill their bowls, grinning. Marle was hovering above Crono, using the pretext of cheering on him to 'protect' him from any potential illicit actions of the blond cavewoman.
Assured that things were in perfect order, she turned back to her prehistoric suitor. Hmmm, he wasn't that bad himself. Blond, tanned, built and still offering her 'poi', whatever it was. Oh, what the hell.
"Thank you, 'pretty girl' will indeed have some poi," she said, accepting the bowl. The caveman grinned at her meaningfully, probably already envisioning hordes of screaming brats popping out of her flaring hips. That was not on her agenda for the nearest future – or any future for that matter – but some adoration was always welcomed. She had given up on trying to be a 'pretty girl' years ago, firmly deciding that it took up far more time than she'd ever be willing to allot to such a meaningless activity, but vanity ran deep in ever human's heart. And damned if she didn't like having her ego stroked.
Unsurprisingly, poi turned out to be an alcoholic beverage, but despite its odd greenish shade and suspicious consistency, it proved tasty and smooth on the throat. And her suitor, named Tano as it turned out, proved quite a conversationalist, despite his horrendous disregard for grammar. Soon, she learnt that the creatures Ayla had trounced were called Reptites and were sworn enemies of all humans. If she had properly stitched together Tano's odd speech and primitive notions, then the Reptites were more technologically and civilizationally advanced than the humans. That was a peculiar idea. 65 million years was a long time, yes, but the fact remained that in 1000 A.D. there would be no trace left of any Reptites, while humans would be thriving.
Even more peculiar was the discovery that there were no Mystics in these times, at least not to Tano's knowledge. Nor did he have any idea what 'magic' meant. Not in the same way as people of 1000 A.D., who knew of magic, but just didn't have it. He just had absolutely no connotations with the word 'magic'.
It was a fact that deserved further investigation and interest, but unfortunately poi turned out to be a rather strong drink and Lucca's thoughts soon began flouncing about, unwilling to focus on one issue in particular. Alcohol was generally beneficial to her thought process, freeing it from any artificial constraints, but only in limited doses. Four cups of poi proved to be way too much and thus the issue was shelved and the scientist plunged into the world of simple, albeit drunken, pleasures.
Behind her, the rest of the attendants of the party enjoyed similar freedoms. Crono had won the Dreamstone from Ayla and to celebrate, Marle made him join the dancing around the fire. They were jumping around wildly, shaking their respective behinds and making odd guttural sounds, which seemed to be the proper custom in Ioka Village. Ayla sat at the podium, laughing at their antics and rubbing the bloated muscles of her soup filled stomach.
Only one person looked as if he'd rather were somewhere else. A blond boy around their age, lithe and compact, was standing in the shadows, under a tree nearby, watching Ayla and occasionally Crono with a distinctive pout on his admittedly handsome face.
"That Kino," Tano informed her when she asked. "He like Ayla. He weak and think Ayla no like him."
Ah, Lucca pushed up her glasses, the full understanding of Kino's situation hitting her along with a wave of poi giddiness. He should form a party with Marle then. Crono and Ayla be a no-no! That would make a catchy phrase. But from the looks of it, Ayla told them the truth and her respect for strength was not related to an interest in the individual wielding it. She made no advances towards Crono and was currently ignoring him completely in favor of having an animated chat with some men from the village, about hunting if her gesticulation was a proper indication of the topic.
Among such activities – and three more cups of poi – the party raged on until the details blurred in Lucca's mind. Next thing she knew, she was curled up on the ground and somebody was shaking her shoulder. Go away, she told the offender mentally, trying to piece her mind together. It seemed that the party had moved into her brain and that every brain cell was doing the oooga-boooga dance. Plus, the sun was too bright even with her eyes closed, some annoying birds were hosting an opera in the trees nearby and her stomach was practicing flip-flops.
"Made some new 'friends' at the party...?" a familiar voice leered above her. Lucca cracked a reluctant eye open. Crono was hunched over her, a suggestive grin on his face. He was obviously alluding to how at the party celebrating the end of school a few months ago she drank a few too many and made out with Toby Cavendish, the president of the chess club. Not that a few disappointing kisses could really classify as making out.
"Liar," she replied indignantly, sitting up with a pained grunt. "I was a perfect lady last night!" The ungainly burp that escaped her along with the statement was not exactly the best support for her case though.
Crono let out a chuckle and moved to wake up Marle. Lucca squinted her eyes painfully, taking a look around the aftermath of the party. A few villagers had like them fallen under the weight of fun and were now slumbering around the square. One was sprawled out on a stone table, among the remnants of the exotic food, snoring shamelessly. The sight of the stale food – and especially of an overturned poi cup – made her stomach recoil in protest and she suppressed another burp, rubbing her tummy comfortingly. Almost instantly she felt that something was wrong. Very wrong. The wrongest.
"It's gone!" she jumped up on her feet abruptly, ignoring the wild spin of her head. "The Gate Key! It's gone from my pocket! We've been robbed!"
Marle, who had just been woken by Crono, looked to her with wide eyes. "But don't we need it to go back to our times...?"
"More than you know!" Lucca replied, pushing her very smudged glasses up. "Without it we're stuck here forever!"
Marle's eyes grew even wider. "But who could've taken it...? And why?"
Crono got up, reaching out to help Marle up too. "If it was some curious villager, then we best ask Ayla for help. She's the chief."
Lucca nodded vigorously, although the action made the world blur in her eyes. Ugh, way too much poi...
Ayla was missing among the aftermath of the party, but one of the half-conscious men told them to look for her in her hut. It was easy to locate; the chief's hut was larger than the other huts and had a huge set of horns draped above the entrance. Behind the hanging mat of a door, they found Ayla sprawled out on a large comfy looking bedding made of animal hide, snoring away like a whole family of hogs. They approached her promptly and Marle shook the tall chieftain's shoulder. Lucca noted that sometime during last night's party, Marle must've made her peace with the blond strength-admirer and no longer saw her as a potential competition.
Ayla woke up with a huge yaw, stretching her powerful arms and sitting up on her bedding. "You up already...?" Another massive yawn followed. "Too much soup! Sleep like stone!"
"Sorry to wake you up," Marle said apologetically, "but we've been robbed! Somebody took something very important from Lucca's pocket!"
Ayla suppressed a mighty burp. "Thief...? The Reptites!" Instantly alert, she jumped up to her feet, sending her leather blanket flying. "Come, come! We ask! People see!"
She herded them out of the hut expertly and towards the few awake villagers. Lucca followed with growing difficulty. Her stomach was churning like a blender, her vision was blurry and her head was pounding. Definitely too much poi.
But at least the mystery of the missing Gate Key seemed to be explained quickly. A boy told them that he had seen Reptites run away from the Meeting Site and towards the Forest Maze. Why would some prehistoric competitors of humans be interested in the Gate Key was beyond Lucca, but she was also beyond caring at that point.
"Forest Maze not far," Ayla told them, steel ringing in her voice. "We go, we fight, we take back what they take!" She hit her hand with a fist for added emphasis while Lucca groaned painfully. Necessity and haste aside, a field trip with lots of exercise was just not sitting well with her at the moment. Fortunately, Ayla seemed to notice it.
"Lucca very pale," she said, patting the scientist on the shoulder. "Go sleep in Ayla's hut. And we go hunt some Reptities!"
Driven by a sense of obligation, Lucca was about to protest, but her usual companions noticed her weakened state too.
"Yeah," Marle agreed, "you really don't look so good, Lucca. Go have some rest while we get back the Gate Key!"
"And no more poi!" Crono grinned, pushing her gently back towards Ayla's hut. Lucca didn't oppose anymore. In her current state she'd probably be more of a burden than help, especially if she started hurling on the way.
"Yeah, I think I better stay, I feel like I've been put through ninth grade all over again. Just be sure you don't damage the Gate Key!" she told them over her shoulder, obediently trotting back towards the chief's hut. Her friends waved their temporary goodbyes at her and were swiftly on their way. Lucca found her way to Ayla's animal-hide bedding and promptly collapsed onto it. The leather was surprisingly soft and comfortable and she was asleep before she could even count to five.
How long she slept, she didn't know. To her it felt like a few minutes, but it was probably a few hours. She was awoken by her companions entering the dimly lit hut, and found that her poi-induced illness had regressed somewhat, at least to the point that she could now face the world.
"You're not gonna believe it!" Marle exclaimed, sitting down on Ayla's bed next to her. "I've learnt how to heal!"
Lucca sat up, reaching for the glasses she had deposited on the floor before. "Heal as in...?"
Marle beamed at her again. "As in we had to fight Azala, the leader of the Repitites – we got the Gate Key back, by the way – and I got a nasty cut on my leg. I touched it, trying to stop the blood and then something warm spread from my fingers. The wound disappeared at once!"
"Here," she said, reaching out to a bruise on Lucca's arm. "See for yourself."
All Lucca felt was a tingling sensation radiate from the tips of Marle's fingers, like a warm, inviting wave spreading across her skin. When Marle pulled her hand back, the bruise was gone. Lucca pushed up her glasses slowly. "Wow... that's one useful skill, Marle!" Marle beamed once more, clearly pleased with her newly found ability.
"'Ma-gick', huh?" Ayla tilted her head. "Very fun. Wish Ayla had!"
Lucca suddenly remembered her conversation with Tano on the subject of magic, or rather lack of thereof, and was about to ask Ayla for more details, but Crono's words cut in before her.
"We have the Gate Key and the Dreamstone," he fingered the slab of glimmering red mineral in his hand, having gotten it from Ayla when Lucca was either asleep, out of it or plain drunk, "so let's head back. Frog is probably crawling up the walls by now."
Lucca jumped up, her eyes widening. Frog! She had completely forgotten about him! And it had to be well into the afternoon already too! "You're more than right, Crono! And we still have to go see Melchior again!" Grateful for the lack of nausea and dizziness, she hopped out of the bedding to gather her belongings.
Marle got up too, stretching. "So it's back to the cupboard for us! A few more times and I'm gonna turn into cherry jam and biscuits!"
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"What happened to ya, kids?" Mad Ronah asked as they clambered up the ramp, having barely made it before The Lady sailed out. "You look like you've been dragged under the keel!"
"Eh," Crono waved his hand resignedly, passing by the bearded sailor. Lucca and Frog followed after him, both as worn out as the spiky-haired boy. Not that it was surprising that they were all dead-beat, the day behind them had been horridly long, dragging and at the same time unbelievably draining. After they left the prehistoric era – Ayla cordially invited them to come over again – they traveled back to the End of Time, to find Frog gravely worried over their well-being. However, he had spent his time on more than worrying, which showed in his new abilities. After hours of training against Spekkio, Frog learned that he too, like Marle, had a knack for healing, even though his water magic was generally not too threatening. All things considered, healing could prove much more useful than any offence abilities.
Having retrieved Frog, they headed to Medina Village once more. To Frog's credit, he kept his cool and did not attack the Imps in whose cupboard they appeared, although his hand remained on the hilt of his sword at all times. For their part, the Imps were just as blasé as they were the last two times the party appeared in their home out of thin air.
"You guys gonna be coming through here often?" asked the Imp, who, as they had learnt last time, was called Mervin but preferred 'Merv'. "There's not much we can do to stop you, but if it's gonna be a regular thing, we'll move the china out of the cupboard. I really liked that cup, you know."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Marle scrunched up her face apologetically. "But this might be the last time!"
"It better be," grumbled the Impess, "coming here at all hours, like you own the place!"
In all honesty, it wasn't really that late when they left the Imps and edged out of Medina and towards Melchior's hut. Due to the time shift between 1000 A.D. and the prehistoric era, they missed most of the afternoon, but it was still early evening. Sadly, the weather was much worse than the last time they were on Medina. Thin incessant rain soaked them through during the two hour trek to Melchior's hut.
Melchior was out of his wits with surprise when they presented him with Dreamstone. "HOW on earth did you manage to get it?" he asked incredulously, his eyes wide behind his spectacles, but almost at once raised a hand. "No, don't tell me. I don't think my heart could take it. I'll take a little while to fix this..."
He took more than just a little while, he took five hours. The sat around aimlessly, lulled into mind-numbing boredom by the erratic sound of rain pelting the roof. Lucca offered Melchior her help, but he seemed reluctant about it, even though he agreed. She suspected that he suspected the same that she had suspected of him before, i.e. that they could travel through time. But he didn't say anything and she didn't ask. He was repairing the Masamune, so things were going their way. Asking delicate questions could disturb the currently favorable state of affairs.
By the time Melchior was done, the moon was high up in the skies, and the party were dozing off around his hut, too out of it to question anything. "The Masamune is ready," the old swordmaker announced as the climbed up the stairs leading up from his workshop. "I have strengthened it a little, to prevent it from being broken again."
The sword was resting on his extended palms and the group eyed it curiously. It didn't look any different than it did before, apart from being in one piece rather than in two, that is. It was newly cleaned and sharpened, but the general image was the same. A wide double-edged blade under a large crossguard and a red hilt. It didn't look particularly magical, but neither of them needed any further proof of that, they had seen enough.
As the Masamune was still resting in Melchior's hands, the group glanced to Frog, expecting him to step up and accept the sword that seemed to have been his at some point. But the medieval knight only looked away wordlessly. Taking it as his cue, Crono reached out and took the Masamune from Melchior. The sword wasn't exactly to his liking; it was quite heavy and he preferred using lighter katanas, but somebody had to be using it if they were to succeed against Magus.
"How much do we owe you?" Lucca asked Melchior, pushing her glasses up.
The swordmaker shook his head. "Nothing at all. Being able to see the Masamune again is enough of a reward."
"Fair enough," Lucca replied. There were many things that she'd like to ask Melchior about, but first thing's first. "Then let's get going. It must be past midnight already and we still have to drop by my house. Thank you," she added to Melchior.
"Yes, thanks a lot," Marle agreed among a vicious yawn.
Although before Melchior would wave their gratitude aside and ask them to visit him again some time, now he only nodded half to himself, his eyes watching them intently as they were leaving.
The trek back to Medina Village took up another two rain-filled hours. There was little conversation between the four of them. Lucca's stomach was still sucking itself in with that deceptive emptiness of a hangover and despite the nap she had earlier in the day, her head was already heavy and uncooperative. Walking next to her, Marle was shivering violently, soaked to the bone even though Crono had lent her his outer tunic. Lucca noted dimly that the Princess wasn't looking too well. Her eyes had an unhealthy shine to them and her cheeks were much more flushed that they ought to be out in the rain. Hopefully, she would not get ill.
The village was dark and mostly quiet; the silence of the night was broken only by the drunken laughter and slurry shouts from the Inn. Unfortunately, due to the late hour they found the front door to the Merv's house to be locked. The stared at it in silence, somewhat lost, until Crono found a half open window to the bedroom and they crept along the well-kept lawn to sneak into the Imps' cupboard.
"Art we not breaking in this way?" Frog asked in an anxious whisper just as Crono and Marle disappeared through the window. The idea of using such dishonest means did not sit well with him.
Lucca pushed herself up on the windowsill, a small grunt of effort escaping her. "Probably, but we're not here to steal anything. Although if they have any more of the cream pie I wouldn't mind nibbling on a bite."
Frog didn't look assured by her words, but followed after her through the opening nevertheless. Inside, they found Merv fast asleep on a small, Imp-sized bed. A white nightcap adorned his indecent head and a matching white frilly nightgown covered his stubby blue body. On another bed nearby, Imogene, Merv's sort of a wife – though judging by the spat they had walked on when they needed to see Melchior before, it was a rocky relationship – was also asleep, and also dressed in impeccably white night garments.
On their toes, the party sneaked past the bedroom and into the kitchen. There was no cream pie nowhere in sight, so without further delay they opened the cupboard and traveled to the End of Time. Without even bothering to walk over to the lamppost and talk to the strange old man, they took another Gate, the one leading to Leene's Square.
That was another odd thing about the Gates, Lucca thought as they were traversing the endless expanse of blue that stretched between different eras. Although originally there were only three blue pillars at the End of Time, as they traveled through new ones, more pillars appeared, as if the reality of the End of Time depended on their actions. She remembered that when they first got here, the old man mentioned other time-travelers. They had not run into any yet, but it made her wonder whether those other travelers traveled through the same Gates as them and whether when they reached the End of Time they saw new Gates too. Or was the End of Time tailored to suit each new group of people separately...?
Her thoughts came to an abrupt end when the Gate deposited them onto Leene's Square, none too gently, and her behind hit the stone covered ground of the corner where the Telepod used to be. Her father must've already dismantled the contraption, which, considering the ruckus over Marle's disappearance, was a smart marketing move. It must've been around two in the morning already and Leene's Square was empty except for a few guards, but they opted to go through the forests around Truce anyway. It was better to blow on the cold, especially since they were running out of time.
The walk to Lucca's house was not hardly long, but it felt excruciatingly so to the group. The weather on Zenan was just as rotten as it had been on Medina; a nasty drizzle was seeping down from the skies, further soaking their already soaked clothes. The nearly full moon was framed by a blurred aureole of pallid light, as if had been watered down by the rain. By the time they got to Lucca's house, their teeth were rattling like windows during a winter gale.
They neared the house from the back, where they could see light spilling out from the workshop. Behind the presently lifted wide shutter door, Taban was still working on some project, currently battling with a stubborn screw and muttering choice curses under his moustache.
"Dad?" Lucca called out, herding her companions into the shelter of the large workshop. Taban jerked up, hitting his head on the shelf above him. The screwdriver dropped from his hand with a loud clang as he turned to them and recognized his only offspring without any problems.
"Lord, Lucca," he panted, clutching at his chest, "please don't scare your father like that, he has a weak heart!"
"Very funny," Lucca replied dryly. According to his doctor, her father's heart was mightier than Leene's Bell. Although at the moment, Taban did indeed look a bit shaken, or perhaps rather confused, as his eyes rested on the newest addition to their party. "Oh," she gestured to Frog, "this is Frog, he's gonna help us against Magus."
Taban blinked himself back into politeness. "A pleasure to meet you, Frog." He received a courteous nod from the short amphibian and turned back to Lucca. "And how are you doing with Magus? I mean, against Magus?"
Lucca shook her head, pushing her glasses up. "To make the long story short, we got ourselves a magic sword, found out where Magus has his evil lair and how to get there and in–" she glanced to the colorful cuckoo clock on the wall, one that didn't really have a cuckoo, but something that resembled a mini-Gato as the time announcer, "–three hours we'll be sailing out on a ship captained by a madman to reach said evil lair."
Taban chuckled behind his beard. "Just make sure to be well prepared for the job. You know what I always say, preparing yourself properly–"
"–means half the job done," Lucca and Crono finished in one voice. "And on that note," Lucca added, "we need some financial grounding, if you catch my drift."
"I do indeed," Taban agreed solemnly. "Good thing I have some coins on me. I needed cash to pay for the parts I was to get from Epstin tomorrow, but I can always withdraw some from the Royal Bank in the morning–" a loud sneeze coming from where Marle was trying to wring out her clothes interrupted him. "Oh, my. Seems to me like you need more than money." Wiping his hands off on a greasy rag nearby, he led them through the door to the kitchen. "Three hours is enough time for a warm meal and a change of clothes. And a bath, because – if you don't mind me saying so – you need one."
"Trust me, Dad," Lucca replied grimly, "we know."
The next two hours of the night were spent on hurried preparations. First to bathe was Marle, and Lucca accompanied her upstairs to get her some dry clothes. She quickly found the most 'girly' clothes she had, hoping Marle wouldn't mind them being a bit wrinkled, and deposited them to the rustic bathroom of the Ashtear household, where Marle was already soaking in the large wooden tub. The bathroom was located in between her room and her parents' room, and as she headed back downstairs and passed by the wooden door leading to her parents' room, she felt a pang of guilt, thinking about her mother. She hadn't really said goodbye to her mother before leaving to the past and now it was too late into the night to say hello. Not that it was an appealing prospect to begin with. She loved her mother dearly, but was not blind to the fact that she was a bitter, withdrawn woman, who spent most of her time on brooding.
It hadn't always been like that. When Lucca was a child, her mother was a cheerful, vivacious woman who approached her husband's inventing mania with a loving shake of her head. And when Lucca shaped the dough for cookies into wrenches instead of cookie-men, Lara only laughed, saying 'like father, like daughter'. But everything changed eight years ago, when Lara got crippled in an accident involving one of Taban's inventions, a conveyor belt. It wasn't anybody's fault really. Her father did leave the machine operational and unattended, but her mother knew she wasn't supposed to come anywhere near it, yet was eager to dust it off. It wasn't the fault of neither of them, just like it wasn't Lucca's fault for being too short then to reach the control panel or for not knowing the password that could stop the machine.
Not that it ever eased hers or her father's sense of guilt, made even stronger by the change in Lara. At first, despite the gravity of her injuries, Lara was still cheerful and optimistic. But as time rolled by and the full extent of her incapacitation took its toll, she slipped into self-pity and bitterness. And now neither her husband nor her daughter knew what to do shake her out of that stupor. She just wouldn't listen to them, always repeating that they cared only for their 'toys'. Not that there wasn't a grain of truth in the statement, they both were very passionate about their inventions, but that didn't mean they didn't care about her.
Sighing, Lucca retraced her steps back to her room and in the mayhem of books and machinery found a pen and a piece of paper. Writing down a hasty message, she went to her parents' room and left the slip on her mother's nightstand. It was just a generic note, 'You were asleep when I was here, so I didn't wake you up. I'll be back soon. Love, Lucca.' She gave her mother's sleeping form one last look and closed the door behind her, wishing that she were more articulate when it came to expressing emotions. She had never been, always feeling that some words didn't belong out in the open, that what was meaningful and warm in the safety of her mind, would wilt faster than poppy flowers if voiced, slumping into awkward and empty sounds.
But it was too late to think about it now. Not only too late into the night, but too late for her to become somebody she was not. She was not an overly emotional person, period. Maybe if she knew it could help, she'd try, but she had seen enough of her father's words and affection slide off her mother like grime down the drain to know it would be a wasted effort.
Shaking off the thoughts, she hurried down the stairs, to join her father, Crono and Frog in the kitchen. Crono was toiling at the stove, apparently having replaced her father at the job. He always claimed that both she and Taban were lethal cooks, although she never knew what exactly he was talking about. Maybe he secretly liked cooking but didn't want to be too obvious about it. In either case, their late night snack would be ready soon. In the meantime, she asked her father about Robo, whom she hadn't seen anywhere in the house, and learnt that Robo set out on a quest of his own. Not wanting to be a burden, he constructed another Gate Key and traveled back to the future to search for any possible information on Lavos.
She had to admit it was a very good idea. Although from the footage they had seen it seemed that Lavos took the future by surprise, it was possible that some of the survivors made worthwhile observations, still available somewhere within the complex computers. The idea of making another Gate Key was just as good, if not better, especially now that they had freshly learnt how easy it would be for them to become eternally stranded in a wrong time period. Leaving her father to further confuse Frog by showing him various inventions around the kitchen, she slipped back into the workshop and packed a few parts into her bag. Without modern tools it would be a challenge to construe a Gate Key, but it only made the activity more appealing to her.
Soon, Marle was done with her bath and Lucca took her turn at cleaning herself. She was done in a flash and just as quickly packed a fresh change of clothes and wolfed down her portion of Crono's cooking. After two hours of preparations, they left her house again, just as the skies were beginning to lighten on the horizon.
Thus, they had spent a whole day on action and got close to zero sleep. It was hardly surprising then that when they reached Truce pier, 600 A.D., they looked like they had been dragged under the keel.
"Hey, where's the blond one?" Mad Ronah asked as they walked past him. "Ya know, the one that nearly lost her stomach."
Lucca turned back to the captain. "She won't be coming with us this time around, she caught a serious cold."
That was the last thing they did before leaving the house, parted with Marle. Even after the hot bath, it was obvious that Marle was in no state for traveling. Her nose was running, she developed a nasty cough and had a fever that could heat a house during winter. At first she was adamant about going with them regardless, even attempted to heal herself, but relented after Taban pointed out that in her current state she'd be a liability more than help. Unable to counter the argument, she agreed to stay under Taban's care, only making them promise that they'd watch out for themselves and come back in one piece.
Mad Ronah nodded in vague understanding and Lucca moved towards the cabin, but paused and turned back to him, remembering something. "Captain, would it be possible for you to drop us off on Zenan before Porre? Like, say, on the latitude of Devil's Mane...?"
Mad Ronah eyed her curiously, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "Ya ain't by any chance thinking of having a whack at the nasty wizard, are ya?" Lucca adjusted her glasses, unsure whether a confirmation would do them any good, but Mad Ronah lifted his hands, catching onto her hesitation. "Not that it's any of my business. Ya pay, ya say. And sure, I can drop ya off early, though a few miles off Devil's Mane. The shores on Zenan are too rocky there for landing."
Lucca nodded. "That's fine, a few miles is not too far. When will we get there?" From what she had grasped during their sail to Truce, it generally took longer to sail south because the winds were blowing to nearly north. So they would have to tack about west and east a lot, which took up much more time.
"It all depends on the wind," Mad Ronah replied, tilting his head, "but some time at dawn tomorrow, unless a storm catches us."
Lucca nodded again. "Thanks!" With that, she headed into the cabin they still had assigned for them. Inside, she found Crono already sprawled out on one of the bunks and Frog resting in a hammock. Resignedly, she flopped down onto the other bunk. They needed rest, yes, but this was going to seriously unbalance their sleeping pattern.
And it most certainly did. They slept all day, waking up only for dinner in the afternoon. When Lucca finally came to enough to get up again, it was late night once more, meaning they were but a few hours away from finally reaching their destination. Crono was still asleep on his bunk and Frog was missing from the cabin, hopefully only temporarily.
Lighting the hanging lamp, she sat down at the small table between the bunks, bolted down to the floor, on a wooden bench similarly held forever in one place. Rummaging through her bag, she plunked out the parts for the new Gate Key and began construing the spare device. It was slightly difficult, since The Lady was sailing with a mighty list to the side, but fortunately the surface of the table was enclosed by a slat, keeping the parts from sliding down onto the floor. She was only on adjusting the standard mainframe when Frog came back to the cabin. He shook off a few droplets of water from his cape and sat down on her now empty bunk.
Lucca glanced to him above the rim of her glasses. "Enjoyed a walk on the deck?"
"Aye," Frog shook his head with a small laugh, "albeit 'enjoy' be hardly the word."
Lucca laughed too, knowing what he meant. The trip to Truce had been pretty clam in comparison to what was happening to The Lady now. Having to tack forced the ship into a heavy lurch; the waves kept crashing against the stem and the sides, cascading down onto the deck. Combined with the wild vertical jolts up and down the waves it made walking on the deck a nightmare for any sane person. She found it the most discomforting when they went to the cramped mess for dinner and her meal was constantly trying to run away from her. The crew however seemed perfectly fine with such a state of affairs. They went about their business with an ease that only those who had spent most of their lives without solid ground under their feet could boast.
"At least we'll reach Chantas Mountains in but a few hours," she replied lightly, pushing her glasses up. "And a few hours more and we'll be knocking on Magus' door."
Frog glanced up to her cagily from where he sat on the bunk. "Thou shouldst take Magus more seriously."
Lucca waved dismissively, frowning. "I am, but that's no reason to be glum. Besides, all we know on Magus so far are unconfirmed scraps of gossip. Who knows what we'll find on Devil's Mane." With a small grunt, she bolted down the main circuit of the new Gate Key to the frame, mentally cursing the wavering light in the cabin.
Frog remained silent for a long time before speaking again. "Thou hath asked me before if I hadst a 'personal history' with Magus. ... I hath." Lucca glanced up to him over the rim of her glasses, perking up her ears. Was Frog finally in the mood to share his story with them...?
He was sitting on the bunk, leaned forward with his elbows propped against his knees, currently observing the crossed fingers of his gloved hands. "Ten years ago a knight named Cyrus was the Captain of the Knights of the Square Table in Guardia," he began finally, his voice even. "As the rumors of Magus spread across the land, he set out to retrieve the Hero Medal from the Frog King, into whose hands the badge fell on a chance a few years prior."
Lucca frowned pensively. The Frog King...? She glanced behind her, wondering if she shouldn't wake up Crono, but found that her friend was already awake. He was still lying on the bunk, but his eyes were focused on the teller of the story.
"His best friend and protégé, Glenn, accompanied him on the mission. They journeyed for months, many a time battling Mystics and even Magus' three main accomplices, Ozzie, Slash and Flea. But Cyrus wouldst not be stopped and succeeded not only in retrieving the Hero Medal, but also in obtaining the Masamune from the Denadoro Mountains."
He paused for a moment, his fingers lacing together firmly. "'Twas then, but a day after Cyrus hadst defeated the guardians of the sword, that they encountered Ozzie and Magus. They too hadst been seeking the Masamune, mayhap to ensure that no one useth it against the warlock. Even armed with the Masamune, Cyrus and Glenn couldst not overcome Magus. He broke the sword with his scythe and... slew Cyrus with his magicks. Glenn too hadst been hit by a spell. In agony and woe, he fell off from a cliff, lost for conscious thought."
Taking a deep breath, Frog looked up to them, as if reading himself. The erratic light of the wildly swinging lantern caught in his yellow eyes, the slit-like pupils contracting into thin lines. "When Glenn regained consciousness, he wast no longer human... He wast in this body that thou seest now." He fell silent, allowing the information to sink in with the other two.
Lucca blinked disbelievingly. "Pardon...? You mean... YOU are Glenn and you have been TURNED into a frog...?" Frog nodded slowly and Lucca's stupor deepened. Her mind simply refused to cooperate with her on that one. Turned into a frog...? How the hell was that possible?
Feeling a need to pace around, she got up, but a wild jump of the ship threw her back onto the bench. Her two companions were watching her curiously, unsure about her odd behavior. Lucca fixed her glasses. "Not to call you a liar, but...it's just not possible! I'm not particularly good with biology as such, but something like that just isn't possible! And even if it was possible to turn somebody into something else, you can't do it just like that! Snap, you're a frog!"
Frog shook his head. "I assure thee that my words be true. I know not what powers Magus employed to make it so, but he seemeth to do it with ease." He turned his bulbous eyes away from them, faltering slightly. "'Twas Ozzie who suggested the idea to Magus. 'Can't you give him a more fitting form?' he said. I shalt never forget the warlock's reply, so... casual were his words. 'There's always time for a little fun.' 'Fun', he said! 'Twas fun for him to kill... to murder Cyrus and to rob me of mine humanity!"
He paused, steadying his voice and regaining his composure. "Thou canst say 'tis not possible all thou wanst, but Magus' magicks know no equal. Nor dost his cruelty. If we cannot defeat him, we shalt meet our deaths on that island, if not worse."
Crono shifted on his bunk, but Lucca paid the grim warning little heed, too preoccupied in chewing over the news. Her mind vaulted around all possible explanations, including the one that Frog was lying. But no, he had no reason to, and never gave them any grounds to suspect him of ill intentions. Then had he really been turned into a frog...? Her head felt ready to explode and she placed a soothing hand on her forehead, trying to placate the storm within. Science entertained the idea of transmutation, of course, but of substances, not people! The human body was a highly complex construction, unsurpassable in its intricacy. To transform it into a completely different one would require altering every single cell, all physiological process, the very root of one's being!
A distant shout coming from outside disturbed both her hazed thoughts and the silence of the cabin. "Gybe-ho!" Knowing full well by now what the enigmatic call meant, they grabbed onto the furniture and their possessions. The Lady's list evened out slowly and for a split second the ship remained steady and calm, like a rollercoaster right before the plunge. Above them, the massive booms swept over the deck and rigging creaked as the mariners pulled the ropes. Then the wind snapped the sails full again and with a sudden jolt The Lady was propelled forward and into a heavy tilt once more.
Lucca's hand remained absentmindedly on the parts spread out over the table, her mind still unable to cope with the idea of Frog having been turned into a frog via a 'spell'. And even though the knight had just relayed to them a story of encountering Magus in person, in a twist of surreal logic her acceptance of Magus' existence was shaken once more. Transmutating people into frogs? Honestly! Her mind rebelled violently against the idea and she was about to ask Frog for more details of the encounter, to seek for any inconsistencies, but Crono's words interrupted her.
"We're almost there," the spiky-haired boy said, propping himself up on an elbow and pointing to the porthole. Lucca and Frog turned to see what he was indicating. Behind the glass of the small circular window dawn was already cracking over the skies. And now, after The Lady took a gybe, a jagged rocky island was marring the horizon. The Devil's Mane.
"We shouldst prepare ourselves and inquire with the Captain then," Frog said, gesturing to the table that was still strewn with parts of the Gate Key.
"Yes, you're right," Lucca replied, still feeling somewhat dazed. Hastily, she bagged the parts and tools and then retrieved her helmet and utility belt from a chest nearby – bolted to the floor like everything else. When Crono tucked his katana behind his belt and pulled on his boots, they blew the lamp away and left the small cabin, heading up to the deck.
The skies to the east, where their final destination loomed, were painted into a mosaic of red and blue by the first rays of sun. The Lady was steadily sailing past Devil's Mane and towards the shores of Zenan. They watched the island in silence, all lost in their own thoughts, until Mad Ronah appeared from the bowels of the ship, yawning, and began shouting various commands. The crew hastened to comply and soon The Lady turned upwind, the sails drooping down limply, ousted of the wind. A splash of the anchor followed, right before a command to prepare the launch boat.
Mad Ronah headed towards them, but a sudden yell from up the main mast cut into his tracks. "Capt'n! Seapucks on the port!"
"Seapucks...?" Lucca questioned, pushing her glasses up. They leaned out over the railing but couldn't see anything among the waves. Behind them, Mad Ronah let out a sight. "Bring out the candy barrel!" he hollered towards the aft.
"Candy barrel...?" Crono asked in puzzlement, turning to his companions who were just as lost as he.
"You might wanna step aside, kids," Mad Ronah informed them, and they stepped away from the port and towards the starboard. Soon a crew member showed up, carrying a small barrel. He set it down right under the railing and popped the lid open, uncovering a multitude of various sweets. They watched on, befuddled, while the man stepped aside too and joined them on the other side of the deck.
Hardly a minute passed when they heard of a few splashes and then odd sucking sounds, as if something wet was climbing up the ship's side. When a greenish, crested head appeared over the railing, Lucca's hand traveled up to adjust her glasses. What on earth...?
The creature eyed them carefully and then hopped down onto the deck. It was short, four feet tall at most, completely green and unbelievably bendy, as if it had no bones in its body. Its head was adorned by odd spikes, slightly resembling that of a gargoyle. The glossy, smooth skin of the creature was naked except for a small loin band, made of seaweeds. Its hands and feet were webbed and sharp looking fins grew on its forearms.
The creature, a seapuck apparently, scrutinized its surroundings and, spotting the candy, let out a low whistle. The sucking sounds repeated and soon four more seapucks crawled over the railing. Two were even smaller than the others, children perhaps. Watching them contently snack on the candy from the barrel, Lucca could fully understand why they were called 'seapucks'. Their faces were mischievous and playful, puckish, in short. They all had Mystically pointed ears, large dark-green eyes and small sharp teeth, currently smeared with chocolate and licorice.
They feasted for a few minutes, remaining wary of the spectators nevertheless, until one by one they disappeared over the railing. Only the one that had arrived first remained. It blinked at the group and suddenly broke out into a wide grin, as if in affinity. Turning away, the creature placed something small on top of the remaining candy in the barrel and climbed suckingly over the railing and after its kin.
"They can't stay out of water for too long. When their skin dries up, they keel over at once," Mad Ronah told them, walking over to the barrel. "Some sailors attack seapucks, but it's a BIG mistake. When pissed off, they wrap seaweed around the rudder. Not something ya want done to your ship, trust me. But treat 'em right–" he bent over and picked the small object the seapuck left behind, "–and they know how to show gratitude."
He held up the object and they felt their mouths drop open. It was a large pearl, perfectly formed and probably worth a fortune, at least to a human.
"Thou profiteth from the Mystics...?" Frog asked, a slight hint of scold in his voice.
Mad Ronah shrugged. "So do most people. At least I pay them back for it."
"I wouldst take no gifts from the Mystics," Frog replied, his eyes darkening.
"Not directly," Mad Ronah laughed. "But whatcha call it when Porre tried to eradicate the colony of Mystic chits from the Targain peninsula because there were truffles on their lands? They failed at first, but are there any Mystics on Targain now?"
Frog blinked slowly. "I hath no knowledge of such a thing."
"Then take my word for it. I might've been a kid then, but I'm from Porre so I remember it well. Besides," Mad Ronah titled his head, eyeing Frog carefully, "aren't ya a Mystic yourself?"
"It's a long story," Lucca cut in before Frog, who looked affronted by the idea, could reply. To be honest, she too had thought before that he was a Mystic. "And we're kinda in a hurry..."
Mad Ronah took the hint and nodded. "Right, right. Then hop into the launch and we'll get ya off at once." He led them towards the small raw boat suspended on the starboard and they climbed in swiftly. A crew member accompanied them while two more began lowering the boat onto the waves.
"And don't ya wreck too much havoc on Devil's Mane," Mad Ronah hollered after them, laughter in his voice, "it's my best source of income!"
Frog seemed slightly offended by the comment, but kept his opinions to himself and Lucca was thankful for it. She could easily see why Frog would feel biased against the Mystics. He had spent most of his life battling them, his best friend was killed by their leader and – as unbelievable as it still was to her – he was turned into a frog by the said leader. But she suspected that the difference in opinion between Frog and Mad Ronah stemmed from a difference in association with the word 'Mystic'. Frog linked it with the big shots of the lot, like Magus, naga-ettes or the blue scaly monster they had seen in the Heckran Cave. But Mad Ronah seemed to be thinking about the small fries – the 'chits', as he had put it – like Imps, Diablos or Seapucks. And his attitude agreed with hers in relation to the Imps in their times – they were annoying, yes, but that didn't mean they didn't have the right to live.
The boat hit the waves and the oars hit the water. The crew member accompanying them paddled expertly and they were out on the shore in but a few minutes. They said their thanks and waved their goodbyes; the crew and its captain were definitely eccentric but they were also easy-going and true to their word, delivering everything they had been paid for.
As The Lady's sailes picked up the wind again and the ship grew smaller against the brightening skies, they headed deeper into the land. A few miles off to the north, the Chantas Mountains spiraled towards the skies. It was the final stage in their journey to straighten up the future. As the walked steadily towards the tall peaks, Lucca felt a spike of excitement, one that usually filled her when she was about to solve a problem. And the problem they were facing now, or perhaps the conundrum, was one hell of a Gordian knot of loose ends and entangled clues. Wherever Magus went or whenever he was mentioned, why's and how's followed like flies after a cow's behind.
Oh yes, she thought, nearly rubbing her hands in expectation, she was definitely going to demand some answers from the elusive mage!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Phew! That was THE most exhausting chapter I've written yet! It dragged like chewing gum stuck to the sole of a shoe! Therefore, if you have only skimmed over it, you can come clean about it, I won't hold it against you. Hell, I wouldn't reread it again even if I was paid to do it!
...Okay, so if I was paid, I'd do it, but only then!
If anyone has any critical remarks, whack me freely, I've whacked myself already anyway...