The Cunning Of Dragons
The dragon lands with a dull thud, small clouds of dust rising from beneath its claws. It does not fold its wings, but instead lowers its head and peers at me through small red eyes that are no more than occasional gleams of light. It won't do anything while it still flaunts those wings, a peacock writ large in tooth and claw, but a mere second could easily change all that. All it needs to do is lunge forward and lash out, and then-- exit Kuja, stage left, thank you all for coming and I hope you enjoyed the performance.
The dragon stares at me a few seconds longer from the depths of its skull, and then speaks in the voice of a bored king.
"Greetings, Kuja."
"Greetings, Lord Dragon," I reply cautiously. It never hurts to be polite in the face of the unknown. "May I have your name?"
"I am Nova, god and ancestor of all dragons."
I bow deeply enough to expose the back of my neck. "It is an honour to be in your presence-"
"Spare me the formalities," it says, voice remaining bland and level. "Your serpent's tongue has no place here."
"As you wish." It's something of a relief to be able to speak freely in this overwhelming creature's presence, and all the questions that have built up since I plunged into the Iifa Tree come out in an undignified rush. "Where am I? Is this place real, or like the other places I passed through? What did those places mean? Why are you here with me now?" The last question is carefully phrased. I don't want its life story until I know what sort of welcome it gives to uninvited guests.
The dragon lord chuckles softly. "So many questions, little phoenix. Tell me why I should answer them when you will be dead within minutes." It flexes its front claws, driving the point home. Well, that's one question answered.
"Do you really think you can kill me? I warn you, I'm tougher than I look." I take a step forward and watch the dragon lord fold its wings just a little. "My patience with this place is wearing thin, and I want answers."
"Very well then. I will give you answers, and more than you asked for. Do not interrupt me." It spreads its wings again, and begins its story.
"I am a guardian of creation, created when Terra first realised that it would need to absorb another world in order to survive. They already knew of the nature of memory and quickly recognised that imprisoning another planet's souls would allow some curious individual to travel back to the Crystal, which is the source of all things and the terminus of every creature's memory.
"Three worlds were created with the birth of the universe. The first of these is the Crystal's world, a place made completely from the mind and memory of the Crystal. The second of these is Memoria, a place brought forth by the memory of its occupants. The third of these is the Shapeless Land, a place formed from the memories of the entire universe. All of these worlds are more real than you could ever comprehend. They exist in all dimensions, being the foundation for what you lesser flesh-beings ignorantly call reality." It snorts dismissively. It's the first dragonish sound it has made and I'm almost offended that it should betray its origins like this.
"Your minds are incapable of truly contemplating anything other than the demands of the flesh that chains them to the earth, and you are no more aware of reality than a blind man is aware of the beauty of a rainbow," it concludes, and then claps its wings to its back. The sound is like the first clash of armies; a cry to all the mad poets of the world to pen their ballads of valour and chivalry. I'd love to see what tales they would tell of me.
"I have no wish to die in your flames, little phoenix, and I will fight for what life is mine!"
It takes to the air in a blur of silken feather and iron scale and is fifty feet above me in seconds. I take to the air too, streaking up and away until Nova is the size of a large moth, and slowly prepare a weak Thundaga as it flies up to meet me. It wheels away the moment it enters my range, and I think I hear it chuckle as I abandon the spell.
It's planning to force me into rapid casting, a thing only marginally less hated by mages than being Silenced. Every spell is a burning coal forcing its way through a body unable to do anything but scream in violation. They say that mages burn with power... they don't know how right they are. Flesh was never made for magic.
Nova approaches again with lazy confidence, and I wait for it to come within fifty feet before starting to cast Flare. The moment the tell-tale yellow haze surrounds me, it flicks its wings and releases a shockwave that I barely see before it slams into me and sends me tumbling through the air, the spell lost. I regain my balance just in time to avoid being gored and cast Flare at its head in an instant of panicked stupidity.
God I'd forgotten how painful this could be gulping down the power-- and then a feeling of being sliced in two and a breathless snap of oblivion as the magic arcs up my spine and out into the world. Just before I drop like a stone almost into the waiting thorns I see a comical look of surprise on the dragon's cadaverous face, and then the magic takes hold and begins to dance. Nova screams above me like a sheet of metal being torn in half, in perfect harmony with the thrilling lunatic whine of black magic and what I now realise is my own howl of pain, and tosses and claws at its head in a vain attempt to shake off the explosion.
This isn't going to be an easy fight-- it's just too quick for me to anything but half-kill myself every time I want to hurt it. I look over at the lit horizon and consider making a dash for freedom, but turn away as soon as the thought is formed. I'm going to fight this thing, just like I've fought everything else in this unreal world, and all so that I can live to die as I see fit. How splendidly and disgustingly ironic.
"Not bad, little phoenix." Nova's voice seems to come from right beside my ear, even though it's over a hundred feet away. "But the first blood was mine, as will be the last."
Let it taunt me all it likes. I will bide my time, just as I did with the elephant-lady, and then I will show it that even the gods are beneath me. I will show it that even in the real world the dragon is slain and the prince and the fair maiden have a happy ending... such as it is.
Then comes utter silence as the Flare fades away completely, and the battle really begins as Nova folds like a fan and falls like a thunderbolt, all sparks and fury like Bahamut over Alexandria. This time, I'll take the offensive. Its claw lashes out whiplash-quick and dream-slow, raking the air a few carefully-planned inches from my belly. I stay tantalisingly close as it pulls up, and it takes the bait and swipes at me again. I'm already fifteen feet away, daring it to send another shockwave at me, and the stupid thing does exactly that.
The attack flashes by under me as I twist and drop like a diver along the recovering dragon's body, hurling a two-handed Flare into the pebble-scaled creases between its thigh and belly and driving the magic deep into its guts. It takes off like a loose catherine wheel, howling fit to rip the air in two, and I take the opportunity to cast Curaga on myself (blessed white magic, no more painful than the caress of a warm butter knife...). Nova writhes around itself like a snake in its death throes, torment written with letters of fire on every tortured line of horn and scale, and suddenly spreads its wings and dives.
I tense myself for another attack, wondering what the hell it could be thinking, but I needn't have worried. It's oblivious to everything but its own agony as it passes overhead like the mother of all meteors, bleeding a trail of fading magic and trying in vain to outrun the coldfire that lights its body with incandescent pain. It screams again, despair and rage and madness all coiled and fed together, and a softer heart than mine would surely have cracked and bled.
Fate is favouring me now and it knows it, and I think it's time for a little playful conversation. I bring the fleeing creature up short just as the spell fades completely. Blood oozes from several self-inflicted gouges on its fleshless head and its eyes burn through their mask of russet tears. Ignoring the filthy ruin of its face, I smile pleasantly as though meeting an old business partner. "Still so confident, Lord Dragon?"
"You are not the strongest opponent I've ever faced, nor the fastest, nor the most intelligent." It chuckles softly. "Your arrogance is great. My patience is greater. You will fall."
Looking into its unconcerned face, I suddenly feel the rage I thought I'd vented on Terra rise in me like bile. Its words are nothing to me, nothing, but its indifferent tone of implacable certainty is as maddening as a horsefly. I'll tear apart that calm facade and reach in until I find the doubt and anxiety that lie at the core of every living thing, and then we'll see how composed it can remain.
Ultima's haze rises around me at a thought and the pyrelights fade into existence, swirling like miniature comets in a sulphur sky. The dragon calls me phoenix. It must know what this light is, and what it did to the dead world. "But you see, Lord Dragon, my arrogance is justified." I spread my arms as if offering peace. "I am the true angel of death, Garland's unacknowledged triumph. I brought death to Gaia. I killed Garland himself. I annihilated Terra. I will destroy you and then I will end everything, myself included."
A pause. "How very thorough of you." Silence.
The sheer flippancy of its reply dries my mouth. Does it not understand me? Or has it heard similar boasts in the past? I make no boasts here, only promises. "That's right," I say, swallowing my anger with a smoothness born of years of practice. "Why don't we skip the formalities and end this? I'll let you give up while you still can. You'll still die, of course, but I expect the end will be painless. And if it's not... well, we'll suffer together, won't we?"
Silence again. Inside its head it's no doubt chuckling infernally, and it knows how much that knowledge maddens me. Why am I letting it get to me like this? Why am I allowing it to waste my time?
I raise my arm lazily and open my palm. Through my spread first and second fingers, I think I see eyes widen, and then I release a small Ultima blast without word or warning. When the explosion clears, the dragon is clutching its bleeding left shoulder and looking at me with undisguised fury.
"You would use Ultima when there is so little left to power it?" it says incredulously.
I don't care. I don't care at all. As long as I have enough life in me to reach this marvellous Crystal, nothing else matters. The haze brightens in readiness for another attack, and the dragon snarls and then drops in a foolish attempt to put as much space between us as it can. Well, well, well, it looks as though my dragon is made of paper. I grin wildly as I take aim and fire a larger blast. There's a time and a place for everything, and this is the time for nothing but force and to Hell with the consequences.
The second blast rips into Nova's front left wing, twisting it horribly and sending its unfortunate owner tumbling to the ground. It lands barely upright, flailing its tail and remaining wings for balance like a marionette in the hands of a clumsy child. I float slowly towards it, gathering energy as I haven't done since I first tested my powers, and force the spell through the moment the dragon fully regains its composure.
The Flare wraps itself round the dragon's vital organs, driven so deep that the only evidence of my spell is the arcs of magic crawling across its skin and dancing like sentient spider webs between its limbs. While it is still writhing I hit it with another Flare, my own body screaming at being misused twice in such a short period of time. Nova sinks to its knees, bellowing wildly. Another Flare, another slice in an open wound, and the pain bends me double and then snaps me the other way. But I can't stop now, and if I break my back then so be it.
Nova is now lit up like a fireworks display, magic doubling and redoubling and tying itself in ever-tightening knots around every organ and cell, but it's still barely on its feet. An admirably strong creature indeed, and breaking it will be so much the sweeter for that. Expecting it to beg for mercy is pointless, but the sight of its broken body will be compensation enough. A final Flare, this one drawn so deeply that I can see the patterns forming in the air and funnelling into my flesh, and it is over. Nova collapses onto its side as I touch down, now unable to do anything but uselessly pedal its limbs.
"Looks like I win." I walk stiffly towards my defeated opponent, ignoring the sensation of being torn in half from the groin up. "Time for you to die now." The end will have to be quick. I don't have the time or the energy to savour the victory, and it's with faint regret that I prepare another powerful Flare. I take my time over the casting and allow the spell's energy to percolate through my battered flesh and around my now hypersensitive nerves. It still hurts.
"So this is the way the world ends..." the dragon murmurs, apparently unaware of the steadily rising whine that signals its impending doom. "Not with a bang but with a whimper."
Something in its voice-- amusement, perhaps?-- compels me to release control of the spell despite my desire to finish this costly fight. I'll listen to what it has to say, and if it turns out to be useless then it will pay tenfold for that wasted Flare. I narrow my eyes at the unresponding creature. "What did you say?"
It turns its head slightly, finally acknowledging my presence. "What do you think your Zidane will do when he finds you standing atop Iifa as vacant as your siblings? He will not follow you here. He does not know how."
I remain silent and wait for it to get to the point. Even at death's door, it won't save its breath.
"You will be killed and your soul will be stranded here, but he will not know that. The world will think you dead and in a way they will be right, as there can be no returning to a broken vessel. To prevent that death, you must destroy the Crystal before Zidane reaches the Iifa Tree. And then you will have your moment of triumph, but none will be there to witness it." Its head falls back to the dust and it watches me from beneath its eyelids, no doubt expecting me to swallow that tripe and fly off in a panic. I would have thought that the so-called god of dragons would have something that would give me at least a second's pause and not just waste those precious seconds. I should kill it and leave immediately... but I can't resist the urge to leave a few parting words.
"What a guardian you are, telling me to destroy the thing you hold so dear! But you'll have to do better than that if you want to trick me." Even as I say the words they seem hollow. I should be enjoying my victory, but it's as though I'm reading my lines off somebody else's script. My head hurts. My whole body hurts. I'm sick of this dragon, of this place, of the world, of the hell my fading existence has become. I just want it to be over. I just want to be over.
"What could I possibly do to you, little phoenix? I am the last barrier between the world and its origin, and I have been thoroughly breached." It tosses its head. "Ignore me if you wish and go forth. I can no longer stop you."
"You never could," I say simply, and then turn away and take to the air. The Crystal is beyond those mountains...
Is this the way the world ends?
"Very well then. Tell me what you will."
"Open a portal to Memoria with your physical body, and the whole of Gaia could pass through if it so wished. To do that, you must do in the physical world what you did inside the Iifa Tree."
"And how do you propose I get back to the physical world? We can't all be higher beings, Lord Dragon."
"Fold your wings, little phoenix, and you will fall to your proper place in the order of creation."
I think I see. To get back to my own reality, I must cast off all but the three dimensions that comprise it. My soul, I hope, will take care of itself. "Thank you. You've been most helpful." And it really is time for you to be going, don't you think? Before I can even raise my arm, Nova vanishes in a rainbow swirl of particles. I glance around wildly and tense for a renewed attack, but nothing comes. After a few moments, I hear Nova's voice ringing clearly between my ears.
"Like the Iifa Tree, there's more to me than meets the eye. You have burned my fingers quite badly, little phoenix, and I now withdraw my hand before you attempt to remove it. You are deceptive, dishonourable, and deceitful, and I hope you hang yourself with the rope I have just given you!"
With those words, its presence fades completely. It's a smart little god, even if it does always have to have the last word. And it thought me arrogant? I finally allow myself the luxury of sinking to my knees, curling my arms around my head and torso in a feeble attempt to soothe the inevitable consequences of using the power granted to me at birth. My back muscles are still twitching, and a particulaly vicious wave of pain makes me retch. No matter how many times I tell myself that this is not my real body that feels this and that I can return to Gaia at any time, the pain keeps me pinned to the ground like a moth on a corkboard.
Eventually the pain fades to a twisting ache, and I close my eyes in preparation for a journey beyond my comprehension. I imagine invisible tendrils withdrawing from reality like roots growing in reverse; my body slipping through layers of being like wind passing through branches; my senses awakening like flowers greeting the morning sun; and it is so. I hear the wind whispering through the Iifa Tree's leaves, feel those leaves under my feet like soft gritty leather, smell the warm baked earth far below me. I open my eyes and there is Gaia in all its vivid colours, almost painful after the deadness of unreality. The sun has moved a bare half-inch since I first landed on the Iifa Tree, but I must waste no more time.
Gaia's souls still rest beneath me, waiting to be manipulated from this side of the physical world. With all the authority I can muster, I command the souls beneath me to rise, and they do so, hanging in the air beyond my vision in the form of the tree of life. Now I must bring them all together... The process is slow, and more than once I think I'm going to pass out from the pain. At last it is ready, hovering in the air like a cobra about to strike, and I order it into the air above the Iifa Tree and then through it.
An unearthly whine assaults my ears as the tear is made, and then the portal begins to open. It grows like a tumour, consuming the air as it funnels the stuff of Gaia into the place called Memoria. The Iifa Tree shakes with the disturbance, and a massive crack reverberates through my feet as Mist begins to pour from its trunk and roots. Perfect. Zidane can't fail to find me now, and even if the Mist shrouding the world isn't enough of a clue for him then the mile-high sphere of purple light should give him a hint as to his final destination.
For the third time today I pause in the face of something far bigger than I am, and then I grit my teeth and fly up to meet my destiny.
