Hello, it's me, Abbot Song. This is my first attempt at Final Fantasy XI fanfiction, so be sure to tell me if you enjoy it. Hopefully, this will turn into a nice series, but with the end of the school year arriving soon, I might not have more time for updates until summer. Wow, I'm probably getting really ahead of myself. Anyways, I don't own Square Enix, Final Fantasy XI, PlayOnline, or anything related to any of those aforementioned things at all. Just thought I should add that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story.
The pain was more intense now, stabbing at every inch of her crumpled body. The little Tarutaru gasped, desperate for release from the pain. Open wounds were littered across her skin, and blood flowed freely from them, leaving crimson rivulets in the sand. Her inhalation was responded with a feeble cough as sand filled her lungs. Weakly she attempted to pull herself back onto her feet, but her fingers were unwilling. She remained slumped across the sand, completely helpless and completely vulnerable. Yet, she was not alone.
Above her, the skeleton laughed. Its maniacal chuckles echoed, as if coming from some distant plane. The laughter stung the Tarutaru's wounds more deeply than the sand ever could. Tears, brought along by the pain and shock, began to drip onto the sand. She began to wriggle, attempting to move away from the awful laughter and that bloodstained scythe, but she could not. Her limbs were burdened too heavily by the pain, and refused to cooperate, no matter how fervently she wished they would. A peculiar sound left her throat; a gurgling sound, somewhere between a choked sob and a desperate scream for help. This only incited greater sick pleasure in the skeleton, who continued laughing.
Words filled her ears, whispered, hushed words, like secrets spewed from a willing mouth. The Tarutaru could not understand where the words were coming from; was the skeleton speaking? Was her mind playing tricks on her? She quickly realized that the words could not be coming from the skeleton, for they did not sound hostile, nor did they echo. Trusting her instinct, she believed that her mind was not playing tricks on her. Someone was talking to her, telling her something... She couldn't discern what...
The skeleton let out another of its horrible howls and swung its scythe downwards. The curved blade sliced through her shoulder, tearing open a fresh cut in her robe and causing blood to immediately pool from the wound. The Tarutaru screamed again, hoping someone would hear, someone would come to her aid, before she... before she...
Her thought was lost upon her as she realized the words were more defined now. For some reason, they sounded familiar, as if she had heard them before, but she knew that no words like these had ever graced her ears before. They were soft, and serene, and so gentle... Still vague, still hushed, but she could make them out...
My child... Close your eyes... Do not be afraid...
The pain seemed to lessen upon this recognition, and the Tarutaru realized that it was the words which had dulled the throbbing and released the pain from her. Despite this, the tears began to swell, as if some final realization were coming soon...
Her state of serenity was shattered by the returned laughter of the skeleton, which swung its scythe down yet again. This time, it impaled her left palm, digging deep into the sand beneath it. The Tarutaru let out a scream that shattered the otherwise peaceful night, seeming to travel far off into space...
The words were no longer hushed, now. They flowed into her ears freely, just as clear and constant as the tears that poured from her own eyes, forming soft puddles in the sand...
Child... Do not be afraid... Come back to me...
The words were guiding, benevolent, comforting, soothing. The pain began to dull, the tears began to flow more freely, but no more screams left the Tarutaru's throat. She felt the heart that pumped so frantically within her begin to slow to a leisurely pace, as if she were not being cut to ribbons by a horrible wraith but rather walking along the pond's edge back in Windurst, tossing stones, watching the ripples move so silent and sleek across the water's glassy surface...
The skeleton ceased its laughing, and raised it scythe above its head with both hands, preparing for the finishing blow. The Tarutaru, meanwhile, found that tears no longer poured from her eyes, and began taking her last breath. She closed her eyes, just as the words instructed her too.
The skeleton swung its cruel weapon downwards. The scythe hissed through the air, droplets of blood flinging from its shining surface to be swallowed in the moonlit darkness. The Tarutaru took one final breath.
The scythe connected in the center of the Tarutaru's chest, piercing through her clothing as if it were paper, impaling her heart. The Tarutaru let out a forced gasp as all air left her lungs. A weak smile spread across her face in the last seconds...
Come to me, child...
All was at peace.
"Alectus, did you hear that?"
The blond Elvaan's ears perked up instinctively, and her hands fell upon the hilt of the sword that hung from her belt. She gazed over at her partner, a burly Galka, who turned and stared off in the direction of the noise.
"Yes, Cressida..."
The Galka instinctively drew his own weapon, a bulky claymore he had crafted himself. He quickly glanced over at the Elvaan, who bore a look of worry upon her otherwise gentle face.
"Thataru was a call for help! Oh, stars above, we have to help them!"
Beneath them, a small Tarutaru squeaked in fright.
"Ikudo-Makudo is right, Alectus. We have to help them."
It was a command, not a request. Alectus did not care, even though he was the leader. That was what his own heart was telling him to do, and before he could respond to Cressida's demand, he found himself tearing across the sand as fast as his legs could carry him. Cressida smiled to herself, and followed after him, each footfall sending clouds of sand into the air. The Tarutaru let out a squeal and followed shortly after, white robes billowing in the soft night air.
Across the dunes they dashed, past hordes of crabs and bouncing leeches, past inattentive ghosts and wandering goblins. The Galka led, the Elvaan followed behind, and the Tarutaru tailed them both. That was how it had always been: Alectus, the firm and unwavering leader; Cressida, the insightful and perceptive one; and Ikudo-Makudo, the passionate and emotional tag-along. They had been travelling together for some months now, hunting monsters to hone their skills and making a profit along the way, while ocassionally helping out their fellow citizens in need.
That was what they were doing now, heeding the desperate cries of some unseen victim. Alectus immediately figured it must have been another hapless wanderer who was wandering in the wrong place at the wrong time; in Valkurm, that was what the problem usually was. Cressida believed it was probably someone who was in their right mind, but perhaps had stumbled, for whatever reason, and fallen headfirst into a dire situation. Ikudo-Makudo merely saw it as someone in need that required the assistance of mighty warriors such as themselves.
"There it is!"
Ikudo-Makudo pointed towards a vague form in the distance. It appeared to be the fallen body of a rather small individual; Alectus immediately realized it had to be a Tarutaru, and sadness stabbed at his heart. He had always found it so unthinkably tragic when the Tarutarus, so in love with life, met their demises at the hands of...
The enemy fell into view. It was a ghoul, nothing special, clutching a scythe that, even at a distance, was visibly slathered in blood. Alectus gulped as he realized it was the blood of the fallen Tarutaru... The blood of the one who had cried for help. Seconds after this realization, Ikudo-Makudo let out a startled gasp, undoubtedly dawning upon this same realization.
"You killed a Tarutaru! Now, feel the wrath of my magic, you heinous fiend!"
Ikudo-Makudo yanked his staff from his belt and pointed it threateningly at the ghoul, who turned to face him, jaws creaking, laughter pouring like foul water from its fleshless throat. As it approached, Alectus and Cressida wordlessly approached, their own swords in hand. Ikudo-Makudo whispered the words of a white magic spell and watched in righteous delight as white-hot light scalded the undead creature. It let out a howl of such indescribable agony the young Tarutaru was forced to clamp his hands over his ears, and suddenly, the creature was gone, nothing as evidence of its existence.
None of the three so much as spoke as Alectus knelt to examine the fallen Tarutaru. She was a small thing, a black mage by the looks of her. She was of a tan complexion and a slim physique, with soft red hair that was drenched in sweat. Her lifeless eyes were of a deep shade of green, the color of emeralds suspended in darkness. Surrounding her body were various puddles, most of them being the testaments of the many wounds that lined her flesh. The puddles near her face, however, appeared to be of something much clearer with blood. Cressida realized that they were puddles from tears, and gasped. Alectus swallowed back his emotions and continued to inspect her, seeing if there was any evidence that she was still alive.
The ghoul had bloodied her up very badly. Deep stab wounds were visible everywhere, as were long, jagged cuts that had severed the threads of her robes and barely graced the surface of her flesh. There were some scratch marks on her forehead, as if the ghoul had resorted to bare-fisted combat. Alectus finally found his proof as his eyes fell upon the blood-soaked wound in her chest, directly through her heart. There was no doubt that she was no longer alive. Tears brimmed in his eyelids, but he swiped them away before the others could see, and stood up.
"She's dead."
Cressida nodded, gulping. Ikudo-Makudo broke into sobs, falling to his knees, burying his head in his hands, dramatic as always. Neither Cressida nor Alectus interfered; they knew their white mage companion felt deeply towards his kindred, and they knew how much this poor Tarutaru's death meant to him.
As Ikudo-Makudo rose to his feet, wiping his eyes, Alectus dawned upon something he had foolishly forgotten before. The spellbook that he had bought for Ikudo-Makudo flashed in his mind, the spellbook he had hoped would never be used, and thus far, had never been used. He quickly turned to Ikudo-Makduo, eyes wide, hope swelling within him.
"Ikudo-Makudo... Do you still remember the spell from that tome I bought you in Windurst?"
"What tome?"
Ikudo-Makudo asked this, and almost immediately remembered what the Galka meant.
"The tome! The tome for the spell, Raise! The tome you hoped we would never use!"
Ikudo-Makudo danced with glee.
"It will save her, thataru it will!"
No one noticed the small smile upon the Tarutaru's face, that she had embraced her own death. Alectus was too filled with gladness, Cressida too overwhelmed with relief, Ikudo-Makudo too concentrated on casting the spell that would restore the life to this poor victim of fate.
Light fell from the heavens as Ikudo-Makudo finished his spell. Cressida and Alectus watched on in wonder as many of the Tarutaru's wounds began to heal, most noticeably the deep gash in her chest that had taken her life from her. As her skin slowly stitched itself back together, the victim's eyes fluttered, breath filled her lungs, and the light pulled her back onto her feet. The light retreated to the heavens from whence it had sprung and the three stared in wonder at the revived Tarutaru before them, who stood, silent.
"It worked!"
Ikudo-Makudo shouted this happily, thanking Altana for her good graces. Cressida gazed over at Alectus, sighing with relief; Alectus, in response, smiled warmly. The Tarutaru, meanwhile, fumbled weakly for something to say, let out a gasp, and toppled to ground, eyes shut.