Author's Note:
And now for something a little different. A chapter from the enemy's POV! This will be taking Rude's spot in the rotation. I still don't own FF. Final Trinity is coming. And if you don't like that, too bad. Ttthhhbbbbttt!
Chapter Fourty Six
The Enemy Camp
Graehan, Commander of the Triad and the Tali Hishna's military forces, stared purposefully at the sunset, squinting his eyes carefully. The light stabbed at his eyes, searing them with its brightness. His kind hadn't known light in many centuries, hadn't known the sky in even longer, and here they were, fighting in a land with open air above them and an accursed burning glow covering it for half the day. Even the 'night' as it was called by his Elders was too bright by far. The things called stars, and the orb named as the moon gave off light, and Graehan always felt exposed and blinded. He still wasn't sure what was worse.
Every day there was a new discovery. The open air above him threatened to yank him from his secure footing on the ground, like a great maw always hanging above, always hungry. The light was bothersome, even painful. But it was other things, little things, that bothered him the most. The flying creatures with odd fur and odder mouths. They made noise like singing and flitted about without any care for what was about them. Sound seemed so hollow here as well without cave walls to endlessly echo off of. And the air was different. There was a different texture to it, and worse, a moisture. The first rain the Tali Hishna had come across sent them into a panic. Water falling from the sky? Never had they heard of such a thing! And the lightning... on their only thunder storm, the entire army had scattered, fearful of some Divine Retribution from Mother herself.
He longed for the caves once more, and wished his people had never come to the surface. There was nothing to be had here. All the Tali Hishna had felt Mother's wail for help, begging their assistance. And while Graehan was a devout follower, he wished to at long last see her with his own eyes, and know what she was truly like. Was she a kind Mother? A cruel one? There were so many conflicting stories, stories he had never had answered.
The Yenta Pree said that they would find Mother and they would bow to her Will, and see her Kingdom reborn. They said she would take her children in, and forever shelter them from the Cetra. But first, they had to prove their worthiness to her. They had to subjugate the humans.
The Triad warrior sighed, and sat down on a rock, watching the sunset.
He was the only Tali Hishna who dared do it. All others had not the courage, always fearful of being struck down. The sun was a demon to them, something that brought pain and blindness.
Soon, in a week perhaps, he would begin to force his soldiers to watch the sun alongside him. They needed to grow strong and adapt. That was the way of the Tali Hishna. When the accursed Cetra had banished the Tali Hishna from paradise, the children of Jenova had been forced to learn how to survive in the depths of the Planet. It had been difficult, but eventually they had adapted.
As Graehan thought of his people and the pride he felt for them, his mind once more wandered to the previous day's battle, as it constantly did now. Claiveh had fallen. Claiveh, survivor of a hundred battles, master of any and all weapons, the man who could kill anything with the strength of his hands alone, was dead, killed by a rock.
Graehan felt for the first time in many years decidedly mortal. The strange bald man with the blue clothes, and the devilish woman at his side with the lightning fast hands and feet. Those two were the first true fighters he had seen since coming to the surface. All others had been weak and pitiful. And now these two... they possessed a battle skill good enough to be at least considered to join the Triad. Were there others like them? If there were, the Tali Hishna truly were in trouble.
And odder still... upon seeing the bald man, he had felt a certain kinship with him. Certainly he was a good warrior, even if Claiveh's overpowering arrogance had truly been what had killed him, not even attempting to dodge the rock. But was that what drew Graehan's thoughts to the man every time?
No. Whenever he was near one of his own kind, he always felt a bond. Around humans, there was no such feeling, except with this one... there was something. And he wasn't sure what. But something similar.
"Graehan," a female voice called.
The Commander of the Triad turned his head slightly to see Crya, his second in Command. The woman was capable, a demon in hand to hand combat. She was almost as good with her fists and feet as he was with his twin swords. Almost.
"Report," he said, turning back to face the sun.
"We spotted a female leaving the fortress. She keeps to the light, knowing we will not pursue while she's inside of it. I have sent five squads after her to kill her."
Graehan snorted. "Five squads to kill her? A little much, don't you think? Withdraw them. I need those squads here in order to take this fortress."
"But sir! We can't allow a messenger to leave the area!"
"And one won't." He stood up and turned to face her. "Is this the same woman who fought alongside the bald one?"
"We believe so. It's difficult to see in all this light."
"Very well. In that case, I will look for her. I, unlike you, have managed to acclimate myself somewhat to its presence. I am best suited to track her down without sending too many soldiers."
"But who will take control of the army?" Crya asked.
Graehan gave the woman a flat stare, and she shuffled her feet. She knew that it was her place to take control of the army in his absence, but the people in this fortress were putting up too much of a fight. It was entirely possible they would fail in this siege, and whoever was in charge at the time would take the blame.
"I will find the woman and kill her," Graehan said, "and you will lead the army. And if you can, take the bald on prisoner. I wish to learn more of him. There is something about him..."
He thought again of the kinship he had felt with the man, and wondered if he was a possible descendant of any Tali Hishna that may have escaped the exile by the Cetra. He would find out.
Snorting, he thought sarcastically, And maybe one day I'll meet Mother, too.