Chapter three: No Foe like a Friend
After Zidane had finished his story, Quina had brought them some treats s/he had made in the Aquilae's small galley. Everyone had been impressed; especially Lucca, who had devoured an entire bowl full of the sticky things. While she munched, Aeron complimented the chef.
"I pride myself on my cooking, but these are very good. You can cook meals sometimes, but if and only if," he wagged a finger, "you give me your recipes. I'll give you some of mine in return."
"Really really?" asked Quina excitedly, his/her massive tongue wagging. Aeron smiled.
"Really really. Now, Lucca. . . what do you think?"
"Skyways?"
"Similar, maybe. Our theory?"
"Dreamstone?"
"Maybe. . . " They went on like that for several minutes, during which they managed to confuse and disorient everyone. Even Zidane.
"Why can't those two talk like normal people?" Zidane inquired of no one in particular.
"Because, as Lucca tells me, 'normal is boring,'" Kabra replied.
"They often talk like this," Sera added. "If I didn't know better, I'd say they take the parts of the conversation that would make it sensible directly from each other's minds." Crimson grunted at that. At last, the two eccentric scientists stopped their mostly incomprehensible pseudo-gibberish and turned back towards the others.
Lucca smiled wryly. "I'm going to let my pal Aeron explain because this is all his fault. Isn't it, hon?" she asked sweetly.
"Uh, yeah, sorta. Now, here's what we came up with: first of all, when my Black Hole spell is cast on an enemy or four, they get sucked in and deposited somewhere off-world. Even the Gurus of Zeal weren't sure if there was a distance limit, but we know we've never seen anyone on this planet from a magic hole. And one of its effects is to weaken the distance between two points."
Sera scowled. "'Weaken distance'? That sounds absurd."
"Look, do you want a week-long dissertation?" Lucca cut in. "'Cuz that's about how long it'd take to explain it. Or, we can tell you in the shortest and simplest terms possible so we can actually finish sometime before morning. We're going to do the latter, because it's been a long day. Okay?"
"Anyways, Lucca and I have thought for quite a while that the people of the floating Kingdom of Zeal used that effect to teleport themselves from their floating castles to the ground and back." He shrugged. "Their 'skyways.' The problem was figuring out how they got the other end of the hole where they wanted it to be. Dreamstone, especially charged dreamstone, seems to do some pretty funny stuff with Gate energy. My dreamstone pendant has energy, and so does my dreamstone sword. If your Dagger's pendant is made up of similar stuff, that could explain why the other end of my black hole appeared there. Doubly so if Eiko's pendant is dreamstone. And it also means that we know where one of your other two groups of friends are: Marle's got a fully charged pendant, and she's on my destroyer, the Akula. At our present course and speed, we'll meet up in about a week or so, depending on whether or not the storm season decides to start on time this year. Also assuming they can find the spot on the Medinan coast I marked for them; but I'm not too worried about that. Heckran mountain's hard to miss."
"And the other group?" inquired Zidane.
"We aren't sure. Possibly one of the places where the time gates used to be, maybe even where Lucca's first Telepod was, in the Leene's Square market. We'll figure it out after we get to the Akula. Who knows? Maybe they're all on the ship."
"That's great, but how do we get back to Gaia?"
"We've got some ideas on how to do that, as well. I can perform the Black Hole spell; I should be able to make Gates. But I'll have to practice and do some research. So, in the meantime I'll tell you about Elosia."
Freya sat alone in the bow, ignoring the bumps and jolts as the fleet little vessel crashed over swells and through the occasional wave, alone with her thoughts. We still don't know where we are. In all my travels, I never heard of the Kingdom of Guardia or Choras. Elosia is what we call the larger of our two moons – but this world cannot be merely our moon. Can it? She was thinking about how pointless the whole exercise they were undertaking likely was when she received a tap on the shoulder. Freya whirled and was unsurprised to see that it was Amarant. He knew she wasn't generally one for physical contact, and he liked doing things to get on her nerves.
"Time for you to do your thing." Having given her the message, the red-haired giant turned and walked back to the stern.
Freya nodded a farewell to the guard, Amarant, and Steiner; then crouched and jumped the twenty-foot gap in a fluid, practiced motion. The two ships' relative movement (and her timing of the speedboats pitching bow) put her only a few feet off target; she was still practically in the middle of the open space on the deck she had designated. Without stopping to see of the guard's vessel was already closing the distance, she stepped quietly up to the cabin hatch. No guards on deck. . . something is not as it seems.
The dragoon paused as she realized that she recognized one of the voices coming from inside: Zidane! They must have been captured. . . perhaps this man is one of Kuja's minions, meaning to catch us all again. Since Zidane and the others were here, she could simply slay the kidnappers, a much easier task than interrogating them.
When she threw the hatch open, the first person she saw was a man with teal spiked hair and a scar running over, but not through, his left eye. Combined with the man's yellow eyes, he perfectly fit Aeron's physical description. Leveling her triblade, Freya charged before he could draw his sword, or even react.
But not before someone else could. The dragoon let out a yelp of surprise as a large red hand closed around the shaft of her spear just below the blades. She heard a grunt of effort as she was lifted into the air by her spear and swung by it. As abruptly as it had begun, the spin stopped; but the hand held on, its owner expecting to send the Nezumi flying. But the owner of the hand had underestimated Freya's tenacity, and she held on, using momentum built up by the spin to swing her feet into her now off-balance target's abdomen.
As she knocked him to the ground, she got her first good look at her opponent: a demon, complete with painted horns, wings, a goatee, and fangs. The strangely out-of-place blue eyes threatened to captivate her without trying; she had fought demons of all kinds, but never had Freya seen such kind, human eyes on one. Something is definitely not as it seems. . . Sudden movement broke through her second-long hesitation: a great, flaming scimitar coming in for a deathblow on her left. Freya swung her triblade spear around to the demon's neck. . .
"Both of you, STOP!" Zidane and Aeron screamed in panic, as they saw two of their friends about to kill each other. Freya was skeptical of Aeron (to say the least), but had trusted Zidane with her life before, and he'd not let her down. The tip of her mythril spear stopped just inches short of her opponent's neck. She felt heat on her left side, and risked a glance. Whoever this not-a-demon was, he apparently trusted Aeron as much as she trusted Zidane; his flaming sword was stopped as close to her bosom as her spear was to his neck. Noticing the same thing, the creature spoke in a deep, clear voice that suited his form.
"We'd have joined each other in death." The flames on his blade flickered and died as he lowered it.
"He's not a demon, and Aeron's not the enemy! Put away your spear, okay?" Zidane pleaded. She lowered it, but kept it extended. Freya was still unsure of these people, though they seemed to mean her no harm. Despite the twitching of their hands, the other occupants of the room did not ready their weapons.
Propping himself up on his elbows, the demi-demon requested, "Would you please step off of me? I could rise nonetheless, but seeing as your claws are still poking my belly, it could prove bloody and painful." This surprised Freya nearly as much as the eyes had. Though his voice was deep, its tone was no longer menacing. It was actually polite, and sounded almost embarrassed. In any case, he was no demon; Freya had met enough of them to recognize one easily. She stepped off of him and retracted her spear. The red being got up, and surprised Freya still more by what he said and did next. "Zidane, do you know this woman? You act as though you do, yet I can recall you describing none such as she."
"Yes, I did. Crimson, this is Freya. Freya, meet Crimson."
"So you aren't being held captive? Where are the others?" Freya asked.
"Nope. Just popped into existence on top of Scarface over there," Zidane pointed at Aeron, "and we've been discussing our situations and eating good food ever since. And the others are on their way here." While Zidane spoke Crimson looked Freya over several times, then turned back towards Zidane.
"You said that the Lady Freya resembled a rat. Though she indeed has fur and a tail, rat is hardly a fitting description. It's insulting." He frowned his disapproval on Zidane, then looked back at Freya, his frown fading a bit as he did so. Again, the dragoon found herself drawn into those eyes. . . she had always believed that the eyes were one of the most revealing parts of the body, and she'd met with considerable success 'reading' people's eyes
If that is so, then I should like to learn more about the person behind those eyes. . .
"I must apologize for your friend's unjust words, and my own. . . ah, rudeness in not greeting you in a manner that befits a Lady of a foreign realm." As he held out his right hand in greeting, Freya hesitantly extended her own. Crimson succeeded in surprising the normally unflappable dragoon by kneeling and kissing her proffered hand in a single, smooth motion. After releasing her hand, he remained bowed for a moment before rising again to his feet. "Though I no longer consider myself a knight, I do still remember my manners," he softly explained.
"Indeed . . . Well met, Crimson." A knight? Freya wondered to herself. Curious. . . "So you aren't being held captive, Zidane?"
"No. Best part is, they've heard of Kuja and want to help us." Zidane paused to scratch the top of his head. Turning to Lucca, he asked, "Hey, didn't you say the Akula wouldn't get here with the others until tomorrow morning?" Lucca responded instantly.
"That means this is the third group! Now we know where everyone is!"
Aeron frowned. "So where're the other two?"
"I'm confused," the dragoon remarked.
"They have a penchant for doing that to people." Freya turned back to Crimson, who had spoken to her. "Although I have known them for but a few hours longer than your friend, Zidane, they have succeeded in doing it to me several times already." Freya was wondering if she might get used to being surprised by Crimson. Here he is, talking amicably to one he tried his utmost to kill not a moment ago! And here I stand, listening to such a one.
There was a commotion at the hatch, and Freya and Crimson turned to see Amarant and Steiner entering the cabin, weapons drawn. A crackle of energy was heard as Aeron readied a ball of lightning, and the others readied their guns.
"Stay your blades!" bellowed Crimson. There was command in that voice, a tone that compelled all to obey. And they did, stopping their mad rush for long enough for Quina to yell, "No fight! These friends!"
Zidane's exasperated cry followed. "Geez, how many times tonight is this gonna happen? Put your weapons away, guys, and welcome to our home for the night."
"But. . . " Steiner protested, "There's a demon! And other evildoers!"
Crimson sighed to himself. "I do so tire of explaining," muttered the demon-knight in a voice low enough that Freya alone heard.
"Hey, are you insulting my new friends?" Zidane challenged Steiner. "And remember, I'm a dirty, rotten scoundrel, too."
"For the young queen's sake, I have forgiven your thievery. But such company as this is not something I can condone!"
"Maybe you'll change your mind once you know more about them," Zidane suggested. "They've given us some interesting info on Kuja, and our current location. I know you'll find it hard to believe, but you need to. They've got me convinced." So Zidane told Steiner, Amarant, and Freya what he had learned thus far. They were a bit skeptical at first, but they ended up believers. Then came the hard part.
"Alright, folks," announced Zidane. "Now it's time for Aeron to tell us exactly why Kuja wants him so bad." Aeron groaned.
"I spent all afternoon telling that story to Crimson. Lucca, could. . . "
". . . I tell it?" she finished for him. "Yeah, I'll do it." Turning her attention back to the three newcomers, she continued, "In order to explain that, I'm going to have to tell you all a bit more about this little planet's history and how we know it. It's a long story, but I'll make it as short as I can. Five years ago, I was ready to show my new teleportation device, the Telepod, to the public. My friend Crono was kind enough to be the first to try it - it worked fine for him. But then Marle tried it, and her Dreamstone pendant somehow made a Gate. We're still not quite sure how that happened - my device shouldn't have caused it - but happen it did, creating a Gate back to the same location in 600ad. Yup, that's right: 600ad, at the height of the human/mystic war. Queen Leene had been kidnapped, but when the searchers found Marle - a distant descendant of the queen - they thought their search was over. So Marle disappeared because Leene didn't get found. To get her back, Crono and I joined a demihuman frog knight (Aeron's father) and went searching . . . we found her alright, and bade Frog goodbye, but other problems surfaced and we found ourselves in 2300ad. It was a total wasteland. After over a month of searching the ruins and questioning the scattered survivors of humanity, we found out what had caused the devastation: an enormous being called Lavos, who'd risen up from Elosia's core one day in 1999ad. Of course, once we found out about that we couldn't just go home; we had to set things right. We ended up visiting the distant past, where cavemen and women somehow knew English, and the height of the Kingdom of Zeal, with all of its castles in the sky. Aeron's mother's from Zeal; she was the princess when it fell, consumed by her mother's greed for a taste of Lavos' power. It took awhile - nearly a year and a half - but in the end, we did it. We went to 1999ad and destroyed Lavos before he could destroy the world.
"So that's history. We all know that Kuja's a total power-whore, right? And that he doesn't like competition? That's why he took out the Summoner Tribe twenty years ago, and why his boss tried to take out Aeron's family about three hundred-eighty years ago. He's very interested in Aeron's ancestral Shadow magic, which originated from Lavos. Probably he's interested more in the necromantic aspects of Shadow than anything else. Now he knows that Aeron, at least, is still around. But now there's more than just Aeron - there's also Crono, Marle, and I. And Schala, still a very powerful sorceress, is still in hiding. We don't think he knows about her yet. We're also not sure if he knows much about Crim, here . . ."
Commander Sheridan of the Guardian Police (actually the peacetime Army) fervently wished he were flexible enough to kick himself. He had been foolish enough to trust those three, those three that were now chatting quite happily with the others. Though Sheridan was decent with a sabre, he knew he was outnumbered and outclassed. Gunning the engine on his boat, he rushed back to Truce harbor. The King had to know of this. Perhaps then Sheridan could redeem himself by taking the message to the major ports and towns.
As the story neared its end, Freya finally got to hear about Crimson. A little, anyway. Aeron was now asleep, his head lolled over on Lucca's shoulder, and he was the one to whom Crimson had opened up, so she didn't get to hear the whole story. What she did hear, however, was enough. A knight that fought in a foreign war, and returned only to find his beloved kingdom under attack. He was unable to stop it, in spite of challenging the commander of the enemy army to a duel. The victor - Magus - then turned him into a demon, and separated his body from his mind so that he'd roam his homeland in a feral state, killing anyone that approached him . . . I can scarcely imagine a more terrible fate.
Freya looked towards the knight and noted his expression, much of which was revealed by his eyes. He seemed to see nothing, looking beyond everything in the room at something only he could see. Freya recognized the expression, for she had seen it on others, and on occasion even wore it herself. It was the look of despair, the kind of despair one feels when there is little left to gain and nothing left to lose. She looked quickly at the other faces in the cabin, but no one seemed to notice how Crimson obviously felt. As the story ended and they started discussing what to do next, still he was ignored. Even when bedding arrangements were discussed and Crimson volunteered to keep watch throughout the night, no one seemed to notice. They talked to him, but didn't notice.
He is their comrade! Do they not care? Or can it really be that I am the only one to notice? As Crimson left the cabin and people started to fall asleep, Freya decided that it was probably the latter. Which didn't mean that she could just leave him be. Though his kingdom was long gone, he still behaved and fought as a knight. It is wrong that he should suffer alone, and if no one else wants to help him, I will. As she got up and strode purposefully towards the cabin's hatch, she was stopped by Zidane's sleepy voice.
"Where you goin', Freya?"
"I think that the red knight could use some company."
"Oh. Ok. You two have fun." When he was silent, she continued to the hatch, opened it, and stepped out on deck.