Chapter 5
A Simple, Single Action
...Death...Is it tragedy or relief? How do you feel as the last breath leaves your lips? Often I have wondered...The 'Enlightened' maintain that a higher consciousness awaits us. But, if true, why do we shun our mortality? Why do we tamper with our terminal existence, as the Zealian Royal Family, namely Queen Zeal, have done? Death...something I can not claim to have intimate knowledge of. Ah, but if I am to die I must simply laugh...
The eyes shut. With a mere flick of his gloved fingers–that's it.
A simple, single action said so much.
She was dead.
Death. Cessation of life. Commence of unlife. At least, that was how the esteemed Enlightened scholars defined it as. They crafted an intelligent explanation: the end of this existence where the soul passes onto another of immortality. A more detailed and essentionally bullshit defintion had been written in the Tomes of Everlasting Existence, adding how those of magic-blood would transcend these laws and reach godhood without the usual requirement of fatality.
The 'brilliant' scholars also went on to add that life is matter in an energy state. Our bodies are merely vessels and thus, imperfect. From soil to soil, from light to light. In Enhasa, the City of Dreams, one Enlightened articulated that our destiny is set before us in a several paths. We may select a branch but ultimately the hand of fate has final say.
...If time is to change, let it change. If the world is to be destroyed, so be it. If I must die, then I must simply laugh....
Yes, he might alter time. Yes, this beautiful kingdom might 'die'.
Would he, as well?
Laugh at death...Still, Magus thought moodily, he wouldn't mind breaking a few of fate's fingers at its creulity yet again. He, who fate had snapped at so harshly and at which he'd railed at with such conviction. Nor did he mourn for her; but for himself, and the lost opportunities. His mind wandered to the rivers of time, in the pool of memory hours before this tragedy...
Soft, blew the wind through the triangular, gold-rimmed window, stirring the exotic plants that stood in all corners of the blue, otherworldly tiled mini-shrine. Dull sunlight spilled down from the crystal, mulit-faceted dome ceiling. In the stained glass, the drawing of Queen Zeal could be seen. In a smaller section of the beautiful design was Zephyrain, his azure eyes flawless in this setting. That light showered on the porportionate technologically-and-magically fueled teleportation pad. It gleamed. Ready.
They were instructed to file within the pool of radiance and inside of the magical field. They obliged. One among them, a violet-robed wizard, stepped reluctantly, indecision in his stance. Brief though that reluctance be, it spoke volumes of the feelings and thoughts he hid beneath a barrier of no emotion.
Magus sighed. He just didn't know what exactly of.
The "prophet", as he was known, stood immaculately erect then, aware of the requirement of stillness for the spell. As ever, the lavender cloak concealed his features, affording him a stature of engimatic elegance. Blue silken hairs darted out of the cowl, and he was forced to shove them back in again.
To his left stood the flaxen-haired Alura, bejeweled and beautiful in an azure dress that mirrored her eyes. Those eyes flickered to the former Zealian Prince in a manner that Magus found distinctly uncomfortable. Her intents were obvious. So were his–his mind was his mission. He would hold naught but victory in his arms, love only his quest. Nothing else.
Except, maybe Schala.
No. Maybe even his dear sister did not matter any more. Where did that come from?
The two, as well as Schala and Dalton, all stood upon the teleportation pad as it glimmered a soft purplish-blue with an intricate pattern renowned in Zeal. An Enlightened, dressed as a peacock, was currently weaving a dimension spell that would transport the Prophet, Princess and the Queen's two Advisors to the Terran Continent. The odd quartet were among the remnants of Zeal's High Council to be delegated. Jarl, the remaining Gurus, Prince Janus, and the Crown's finest scientists, had gone ahead to make ready for the audience with Queen Zeal.
Percisely behind him was his sister on the upper left portion of the pad. Her sweet nature was tempered with worry. He hated seeing his sister like that–abhorred the now distorted memory. A whole now dimension sprang before Magus, that of less than happy times. Still, her heart was more steel than his scythe. Blotting out the emotion, as he always did, the Prophet noted with disgust and thinly-veiled fury how Dalton, to his sister's left, had his own lecherous agenda. Thus far, Schala had resisted his efforts, but the Queen's one-eyed advisor never acknowledged his failure–as if he were too 'beautiful' to be rejected by anyone.
That's all this damned world needs, acrimously thought Magus. Dalton was one of the few who hadn't changed from his youthful years. Shame, indeed. As if the kingdom isn't even in enough peril. People like him will ensure its damnation.
The former prince forcefully shook the thoughts out of his head. Concentrating on the next action to be taken, the prophet found his conscious not cooperating. It, instead, wandered to the question of Zeal's suddenly announced Terran visit. Rare is that a queen, herself, speaks, letting her aids vocalize her royal will with their words.
The Earthbound. Those rebellious anarchists violated the laws once again. Though Magus loved his sister dearly and despised Queen Zeal almost to the point of self-denial of parentage, he reluctantly admitted that his own ideology more closer mirrored their mother's. From the queen did a young Janus inherit his distaste of those devoid magic. It seemed illogical, what with Schala's loving guidance to his own common defect of no magic with the Earthbound. Yet, maybe that was why he hated them. That was the greatest factor, looking at a mirror and not liking what he saw. They were the mirror. They were what he not liked seeing in himself.
The Enlightened 'peacock' proceeded though the final stages of the teleport spell as his mind continued in the avenues of thought. Most recently, the sabotage committed by the Earthbound had escalated. One rag-tag band sought to shut down the Mammon Machine! Rumor had it that Melchior, on Woe Mountain, had even organized the ill-fated attempt...Magus shook his head again, half-amused, half-annoyed. Fools. It failed, of course, but his mother–rather, Queen Zeal–did not take kindly to the disruption. She was never a patient woman. He had no doubt that this briefing would address the recent attacks.
As the Enlightened activated the platform, Dalton, frustrated by his lack of success, pressed forward with his own vile designs. A hand snaked over in an attempt to squeeze Schala's left breast. As explicitly stated in the tomes dealing with teleportation, the subjects in transport are to stay motionless. Dalton failed to adhere to the reasonable safety precaution.
All four spun in the colorless existence that sustained them in mid-flight. Things went awry, as result of the advisor's foolishness. The light whipped about sickeningly. Alura cried out and snatched the prophet's arm. In his own disconcert, Magus neglected to admonish her for the display. Schala expertly dodged Dalton's clumsy advance and the flourishly-attired man stumbled into the three.
At last they landed. Hard.
They sprawled upon the cold hard-packed snow of the Terran Continent, several feet from their intented destination of another like-designed shrine. Several Zealian guards, startled by the unpreceedented, and graceless, appearance of the four, rushed over to help them up. Magus declined with a snarl while Dalton needed three to aid him to his feet. Schala and Alura both availed of a guard each, hair ruffled like sun-gold and crystal-water.
Angrily, Schala slapped her assailant's next efforts away. That made Magus even more furious. He made his displeasure vocal. "Dalton, if you touch her highness again, I'll splatter your water-colored ass on the wall!" Briefly the former prince even flirted with the idea of carrying out his threat and, indeed, the mind's image of an Enlightened attendant having to scrap Dalton off the wall for weeks did have appeal, but the sorcerer of shadow knew it was ill-advised. Surprizingly enough, Dalton played a pivotal (or at least partial) role in Lavos' summoning, so he couldn't risk it. A sigh, then another. No, far better to endure the overdressed clown, than jeopardize his plans on vented irritation. Satisfying himself with the mere mental manifestation of the advisor's demise, a cold smile touched his lips.
Now, wouldn't that be beautiful...
This didn't sit well with Dalton, however. His pride bruised, his intelligence insulted, he stormed over at Magus. The pose he fabricated amused the dark wizard immensely, like Alfador when he was all bristled up. Seeing his opponent harmless, Magus opted to walk in the direction of the audience platform but Dalton called him an 'Earthbound coward'.
As said, Magus hated being compared to an Earthbound.
As the prophet and advisor stood face to face, their intents obvious to all, Schala interfered. To have them commit violence, for her that would not do. Ever the peacemaker (or pacifist, depending on the viewpoint) the blue-haired beauty scolded both as she would Janus.
Still, they seemed determined to settle the matter by such means.
As the conventional formula became apparently ineffectual, Alura stepped in. A hand on each shoulder and a smile for both, she silkily stated, "Fighting over me? Oh, how quaint! Well, I perfer if my champions fight undressed..."
While Magus was a bit put out at the statement, Dalton seemed fired up all the more. Of course, his interest had nothing to do with chivalry. Irked at the persumptous tone of Alura, the wizard of shadow instead turned to their destination once again rather than correct her. Some distance beyond the snow dunes stood a wintery clearing. There the Queen would make an appearance.
Dipping against the wind, he inelegantly rolled two fire-lavender eyes. It was bitterly cold and he huddled within the velvet cloak to avoid the wind. Over the still horizon the platform came to Magus' bleary sight. Made of steel and stone, it hoisted two daises. One for the elite inner circle of Zeal; one for the Queen herself, with a massive golden throne.
Enlightened and Earthbound milled about the snow-covered terrain, though never with each other as should be. No Earthbound should taint the magic-proficient with their...taint...Yes, he hated the Earthbound; he hated the mirror.
Magus eyed a skeletal tree, already under siege from the extreme cold, and posted himself there. The exhilarated whispers of the Enlightened and the worried mutters by their not-so-glorious cousins surged past him, like the wind, distracting and vexing but soon forgotten. Beneath his numbled fingers the pendant glowed. The former leader of mystics found his resolve waning to proceed with his quest. He was merely moving from point A to point B and accomplishing nothing. Could he sit so idle and watch the insanity unfold...again!?
Unacceptable. Remember your mission. Remember your sister. Remember yourself.
A hand came down on his shoulder. Magus looked up. Alura's azure-eyed gaze upon him was most unsettling, yet somehow comforting. How possible? But then his mere existence in this time–interacting with his own younger version notwithstanding!–was even further beyond all rationality. She leaned against the brittle bark, beautiful face inquiring and beguiling.
Panning the scene, ignoring Alura, the dark sorcerer saw his younger self being caged between the Gurus of Reason and Time. Unknown to them, Janus had switched their hats which made for a wonderful row by the Earthbound and Enlightened alike. Poor Gurus couldn't guess what prompted the laughter. Jarl, opulent as ever in a blue-and-silver ensemble, spoke gracefully with Schala. His sibling seemed distressed and the young man did his best to alleviate her worries.
Just as the former prince was about to rise, Alura grabbed his hand. He frowned and she smiled. His knited brows bade the blond woman speak.
"Ah, Magus...I want to...talk to you..."
Blinking his eyes, Magus sighed, "Alright–but make it quick!"
Hesitation. In her eyes. In her whole stance. Still, she overcame the wariness and draped two hands about his neck. Alura's moist lips sought his own but Magus immediately pulled away, watching her guardedly. Again, her advance. And again, his refusal.
"What's the meaning of...this?!"
When the dark wizard backed up against the cold tree, the blond woman trailed her fingers down his chest. "Describe to me what you are feeling."
Irritating woman...."Nothing. I don't understand."
"Oh, but you do! You can't look me in the eye and claim to be lifeless!"
Clearly it was Alura who did not comprehend. There was no place in his life for anything, anyone. A soldier on the battlefield must concentrate on war, not love–or lust, for that matter. "I feel, Alura," he whispered cooly. "I hurt. I rejoice. I get angry. I feel it all. But, unlike some people, I don't let my emotions get the better of me."
The Barrier. Would he ever be free of it?
No! It is not a prison. It is the thing that liberates me from the insanity that chains both Enlightened and Earthbound alike!
As cold as the Black Wind, the leader of the Mystics turned abruptly from Alura and trudged up the rostrum. Her disappointment floated after him, though she was definitely not totally disillusioned. Softly sultry, came her words, "Someday, you will feel, prophet."
He retorted, "Don't hold your breath."
Everyone assembled with the sound of Jarl's voice commanding them to do so: the Enlightened on the platform, the Earthbound on the snowy plains. None stepped upon the throne dais. That, alone, belonged to her royal majesty. Audience formally commenced with Dalton's pompous (and ass-kissing) praises to the Queen, orating her endless virtues, her eternal beauty, her lasting compassion. All the Zeal High Council took to a crescent-shaped pattern upon the platform. An island, the final dais, remained empty. Of Zeal herself, there was no immediate sign.
Mercifully, the one-eyed advisor ceased his drivel and Jarl resumed. His smooth voice had a hypnotic affect on the crowd. There was something entirely unworldly about the black-haired sorcerer. The words were brief but powerful, all in the delivery. "Attend, Zeal's subjects! Please give cheer as we receive her Royal Majesty, the wonderful Queen Zeal!"
Magus could not help but watch in fearful awe. She descended from the heavens, or rather the Zeal Palace, in a pillar of iridescent cone-shaped light. Brilliant ripples marked her feet touching the marble platform seconds before her–like walking over water. With a disdainful sneer, she reclined in the golden throne.
She's powerful...A horrific thought passed through him, sharp as a knife. What if I must kill her to destory Lavos? Will I? Can I? How does one defeat a demi-god?
But defeat her he must, Magus knew. Or Lavos would prevail.
A muted silence filled the center. None dared speak as the Queen herself is present without her elicit approval. But the Monarch of Zeal looked anything but approving. Oh, Magus could see the outer-coating of sugar-tooth pleasantries, but unlike most, the mask of gracious did not conceal the maliciousness for him. His half-flame, half-violet eyes darted to Janus, sandwiched between the Gurus. Yes, he could see the child shudder in disgust and fear. Yes, even then he'd known.
At last, Zeal stood. All eyes, upon her.
"I've heard a rumor. A very vicious rumor. A rumor that some of my beloved subjects are unhappy about my more than generous rule. I, who have sacrificed time, effort, and money into your protection and comfort–and ye shall turn upon me! I will not have it!"
Disfavor passed through the assembled throng. The Enlightened glared on their cousins and their cousins upon them. Schala looked most distressed. Dalton, though frightened by the animosity, feigned indifference. Janus appeared about to bolt, forced to restraint his cat from doing so (And why was Alfador present, anyway? Janus probably illegally smuggled him in, Magus mused), the Gurus exchanging concerned gazes. Alura and Jarl whispered in excitement.
As was the norm his mind wandered off to the days of his dreaded childhood, reevoked by the sight of his younger self. Indeed, as the eight year old brat, the prince had known of his popularity level–or lack thereof. He'd been too emotional, too blunt, and too unyielding, others claimed with a haughty air. It earned him no friends, but plenty of enemies. As politcal maneuvering occasionally became necessary as a Mystic, the dark wizard realized carefully chosen words sometimes won out in the end...rare that, though. He preferred brute force to the speed of his tongue then. But, now, Magus knew sheer deception and a delicate balance of trust was all that kept him from total disaster. Him, and all of Zeal.
Still, his inner intensity only fluttered beneath the cold surface. A layer of ice and civility concealed what was truly a boiling pond of severity. No one accepted him, so Magus would have to accept himself. A glance around, seeing all the approving looks, made him desire vomiting. They cared not for him. He cared not for them. I could never stand the two-faced, prim and proper Enlightened. But nor could I stand those primitive Eartbound with their radical naturalistic views...Then, I don't belong in either category, either time...
Appalled at his own lack of control, glad that his barrier prevented visual demostration, the prophet continued to listen to the Queen's speech.
"Recently a motley crew of insurgents, unhappy with my more than generous rule, turned on the glorious Zeal Kingdom and assaulted–maliciously attacked!–the source of our infinite happiness, the Mammon Machine. The sheer insanity...Why, oh why, my beloved subjects?"
Why? Because of the source of our infinite happiness, you dolt! But then, the Earthbound have little conception of the true danger, or about how to vanquish it..Idoits, all of them. Of course, Magus noted, if someone were to scare Alfador, his violet cat would still run without pause even when it was evident that he was quite safe. Did the dark wizard really expect anything different from the low-born dirt-eaters?
"I will no longer take this insubordination without action. Too long, I've overlooked a few dissentors for the sake of the rest. But here stands a real threat. As of today, by my royal decree, all Earthbound must submit to a bi-monthly report of all transactions, especially those dealing with weapons. Furthermore, an annual house check will be conducted. All resistance to this law will be met with force by my guards. I do this in the best interests of both our peoples."
With a preemptive gesture to her advisor, and Dalton leapt to his feet like a puppet–ableit a very willing puppet. He scurried to the Queen's side and proudly declared, "Audience dismissed." Despite the mundaneness of such a statement he invested more splendor than strictly necessary.
Like the ebb of an intensifying tide, so did the angry murmurs pass through the crowd. Dark faces glowered, eyes flashed, lips curled in a tight line. Several Earthbound surged forward, shoving those in front into a metal barrier. That, of course, only encouraged the fuel that was the flames of discontent.
At first only a few dared vocal dissent but soon others joined the pandemonium of unrest. Insults showered the Enlightened gathered, and they recoiled in fear. Guards pressed back the crowd, a few choice words to settle the mess. But it refused to be dealt with that easily. Some shouted that the Queen was subjugating them; others, that she devised their deaths. Still more claimed that both the prophet (which one in particular they were referring to Magus couldn't tell) and the Monarch's right hand man each had evil plans for them. And the black wall of noise and verbal abuse swirled in the cold wintery air.
In the center of the sound was his mother's incoherent screams of indignance, her eyes like windows into the void. It seemed as if she could melt the entirety of Zeal Palace with that gaze. Perhaps she could. As for the former prince himself, Magus felt a spasm of panic. If the crowd should lose all reason, how long could they last out...a dozen Enlightened against several hundred Earthbound?
Not long, not long at all.
And then it came, as he knew it would.
An idiot Earthbound threw a rock at the Monarch of Zeal.
As much as the former prince had thought that the Earthbounds' brains consisted of mere dun, he was sure of it now. Though the effort fell a foot short, the sentiment was not lost on her majesty. The fact that it dared, despite its ineffectiveness, to inflict even the minimalist slight on the Queen was a grievous offense in itself. Certainly his mother seemed livid enough already. In an instant, the Zealian Royal Guard rushed to her defense. They formed a human wall around her like a general might command of his troops in combat.
That only served to irate her subjects more. They proceeded to shower with more rocks,
with more instensity, more hatred. Sticks followed. And knives. Soon all depiction of refinement disintergrated. "Death to the tyrant Queen and those scum that worship her!" came another young voice.
"Kill her evil servants!"
"Slay her! Slay them! Slay them all!"
Magus could not virtually believe his ears. Nor his eyes as the mob descended. Additional guards appeared, driving the oppressed forces back. Still they resisted, washing as waves over a shoreline. The majority could be restrained but each time a few of the more frenzied dissatisfied broke through, like those same waves reached the distant grass. Rather than risk her majesty's health, and maybe her life, the Palace Guards slayed the most incensed dissentors. Schala shouted for both sides to halt but neither listened. Janus was screaming loud enough to shatter his older self's eardrums but even he was only a pale whisper to the shrieks of ire by his mother.
Dear reaper, and I thought only I could make her that angry...apparently not.
Meanwhile Jarl raced to front, where the platform met the ground, using some wind magic to thrust the Earthbound into one another. Magus knew he must act, but as to what eluded him. Several more guards formed a line to repell the forces, but, that, too, subsequently crumbled. Now the Earthbound threatened the platform, and those upon it. Janus, the Gurus, Alura, his mother, Jarl, even Schala could be slaughtered in this maddening mob.
In horror, Magus watched Schala run to Jarl's side and into the fray, a beautiful warrior angel. And a warrior angel about to perish. He desperately cried out her name but to no avail. Queen Zeal continued to scream in near unintelligible fury. "Kill those seditionists! Kill them!"
In the midst of the melee, Alfador howled and took off. Echoing a similiar cry, Janus chased after his fading feline friend, dodging the Guru's attempts to seize him. Glancing at each other in exasperation and fear, they too fled off the platform. Whatever miracle kept them from being hacked to pieces by the wild crowd evaded the former Mystic leader. The comical duo followed the prince, determined to protect one of the heirs to Zeal.
Seeing himself safe, at least for the time being, Magus erected a shield of physical
protection over his beloved sister. Impeccable timing, too, he noted, as the wall activated just as an Earthbound had unleashed a deadly knife upon the blue-haired princess. Though surely the source of her salvation must have stunned Schala, she continued struggling to save both peoples as if nothing occured.
Foolish, dear sister. So foolish! Why save such worthless creatures? He, himself, would have intervened had not the guards thickened around the platform. And in the air something distinctly, and dreadfully, familiar contaminated the very oxygen he breathed...the Black Wind...
As he struggled with the amassed human barricade, in the brief distance he could see Jarl dodge an array of arrows meant to slay him outright. It distracted the black-haired 'other' prophet in his precasting mediation but did not ultimately force the wizard to surrender his task. The color of magic illuminated him while he blazed past another shower of death. At the completion a massive, multi-spectrum forcefield sprang between the Earthbound and the Enlightened. It was a much more potent version of Magus' own shield on Schala, affecting myriads of people, protecting both usurpers as well as their 'cousins'.
Desperately Magus shoved the duo of guards to his front aside, but was still unable to break free. The screams coming from all directions were as a dozen steel blades to the brain and with apprehension he noted the metallic taste of blood. That was bound to happen sooner or later, what with all the weapons in the air and the Earthbound's deaths. His otherworldly eyes also caught sight of Jarl again and the wizard's magical actions mystified him. Was Jarl just as foolish as his sister–saving that which was not worth saving? Then the approving looks from both Queen and daughter afforded him insight into Jarl's duplicity. Of course he'd play both ends against the middle!
Slick bastard! Magus thought, eyes narrowed dangerously. Figures. It is Jarl, after all.
Meanwhile, Dalton had remained frozen stiff in terror. At the height of the particularly heated confrontation, with seething Earthbound leaking through Jarl's magical veil, the Queen's advisor darted for the snow dunes, hiding beside one until the violence could run its bloody course. A coward to the end.
Cowardly bastard! That made him smile sadistically. Figures. It is Dalton, after all.
At last, the blue-haired former prince tore into the human mesh and snatched Schala's arm. She resisted, begging the guards not to slaughter those who'd evaded the shield. They did not heed, the request of mercy countermanded by her mother's scream for blood. And that there was; it permeated the air as the wind itself.
The smell of blood. The smell of death.
Death?! Who's dying now?!
Both Earthbound and Enlightened–that's who.
What was once a mere protest to unfair terms escalated into a roit. A bloody riot. A deadly riot. For shortly thereafter, Jarl's endurance failed him due to the strain of magic's toll and the sheer weight of hundreds of dissented people. Thus, like a ocean meets sand the two collided in a terrible force of fury and fear. The whole reason why to fight became forgotten as they screamed and slaughtered, sobbed and were slain. Magus lost his hold on his sister and she merged with the maddening crowd again, lost to him.
Had his own life not been in question Magus would have dove for her. But a knife, aimed for his heart, made the dark wizard parry with his scythe. Yes, indeed, it took more assassination attempts but finally Magus knew his life was at risk. The necromancer could stand death, the ruinous end to his mission. But to lose Schala, again...
Releasing his own war cry, he swept the scythe out in a powerful flourish. Several died in a single swing. More blood flooded, some caking his cloak and hair, lingering smells of the massacre. The Gurus and Janus could not be seen within his limited viewpoint. He would have to trust the old men to protect himself as the young boy. Schala was still shouting for both sides to cease, but like all the other shrieks, it vanished beneath a sea of rage.
Dodge, Magus. Slash. Wait until the next swing. Now! Again! His entire body set to auto-kill. It all inundated him, years of brutal training and even more brutal hands-on experience.
One mighty downward cut. An Earthbound joined the ghastly pile. A smooth sideways thrust. Another down. Then he parried another's lethal blow. Harder. Then duck. Come up into the gut. And a third soul was dispatched that shameful day. The lust of both peoples of Zeal, one to master, the other to revolt, had lead to this disaster.
Sweat stung his fiery eyes and the sorcerer of shadow panted most viciously. He felt a tug on his arm and he recognized Jarl. The "other" prophet was of better straits, resorting to magical attacks, leaving many paralyzed Earthbound. Magus, murderous eyes blazing, had been about to shove him aside when he received a good view of the battleground.
Bodies. Everywhere.
The battle was over...What, in the Void, just happened here?
Sharp sunlight glistened over Schala's bent form, she who wept over some fallen young boy. A stab of fear pierced him as Magus considered that might be his younger self. But, mercifully, upon closer examination, it was merely some unfortunate Earthbound. His crimson-violet eyes trailed to his mother who was paradoxically pleased and annoyed at the display. "Stupid Earthbounds..." she muttered, "Got themselves killed."
They're not the only ones...
Certainly not. The rebellion had finally been repelled but at such a high cost. Many Enlightened lay on the snow, stilled forever. Cries of anguish, and vengance, filled the air. There would be retribution, hell to pay. Little good that would serve the departed, however, Magus noted grimly. Though more Earthbound had been killed, neither side could perceive this as a victory. Butchery, maybe. Victory, no.
Ultimate body count numbered over two dozen, for both sides. Blood shone in crimson pools beneath a pale sun. Each step Magus had to gauge before proceeding any further. He'd observed from afar, leaving his distraught sister to her grief. Such a bleeding heart. Now, as the dark wizard arrived, she flinched when his hand came down on her shoulder.
Venomous came her whisper, "You call yourself a prophet, but what sort of oracle murders innocents? More of a hired assassin..."
Magus found he could not reply. When he desired to respond, to refute such a cruel assessment and her perverse image of him, all the former prince could manage was a negative grunt. Her angry eyes forced him to look away. Now she knew. Now she'd witnessed the savagery of his black soul. The Black Winds had finally infested his soul. At that moment, Magus didn't much like himself.
Who'd survived? His glance identified the living forms of a frightened Janus, the Gurus of Time and Reason, his irate mother and a most agitated Alfador. At first, the violet-cloaked man dared to dream that Dalton had perished. No such luck, as he caught the cowered form of the Queen's advisor–if there was but one aspect the nercomancer admired it was the blond man's resourcefulness. Damn, why couldn't Dalton be good at anything but surviving? Such was life.
Where was Jarl? And Alura?
Carefully, he stepped about the broken bodies and accounted for the former. Jarl was also genuflected, facial features hidden by frayed sable hair. Through ribbons of crimson life-fluid, Magus walked to reach him, intent on questioning him as to why the Earthbound had reacted so violently. In the backdrop of the silence, Queen Zeal's booming voice could be heard, ordering an immediate investigation and the possible apprehending of the ringleaders concerning the matter. The guards split up, half to remain and ensure her majesty's safety, the others to see to her royal will. Some rushed past the blue-haired wizard who ignored them and knelt by Jarl's side. In disasters such as this, rank, formality, and other rivalries meant little to him.
The other man looked up with a gaunt face. A most grave expression, most haunted eyes–distraught more than Magus had ever seen him. Then, his own eyes trailed from Jarl to the shattered remains of what must have been an astonishingly beautiful woman.
There was but one person unaccounted for...
"Oh, Alura..." Magus breathed.
Like he feared to destory an already ravaged face and body, Jarl pulled his sister into his arms. Unshed tears shined in his silvery eyes as he stroked burnt locks that once gleamed as gold. Magus' lips formed a question that the other prophet answered quietly. "An arrow, laced with a flaming liquid...it made contact square on her forehead...and exploded on impact..." came the disjointed reply.
The former Mystic leader asked softly, "Is she...?"
Jarl didn't answer. Nor did he need to.
Tragic. So tragic. But, try as he might, Magus could but feel little beyond the slightest sting of sorrow. And that sorrow was more for himself than anyone else. This whole sordid mess would likely make his mission that much harder to acheive. His quest was in jeopardy. The dark wizard had hoped that Alura could persuade her brother to surrender his suicidal crusade to create a 'New Zeal' and join him in the struggle to salvage the current Zeal. Now, because of her death, his hopes were dashed.
Jarl wasn't likely to preserve a kingdom of discord. And Magus could hardly blame him.
The blue-haired prophet gazed at the azure dress of his sister Schala. Then he switched back to Jarl arranging Alura's fragmented body into some intimation of decency. The premonition and subsequent parallelism was most singularly horrifying. What if, in his dangerous battle with Lavos, Schala should be killed? How could he forgive himself? Was it worth it?
The eyes shut. With a mere flick of his gloved fingers–that's it.
A simple, single action said so much.