Chapter 12, The Falcon

The many footsteps echoed in the chilly, damp air, but by the lack of truly threatening monsters the heroes had become a little more relaxed. They really had no choice but to lower their guard, the little food they had had was gnawing on their strength and focus. But at least none the few monsters in the crypt had so far turned out to be anything that the group couldn't handle.

    A couple of more or less immobile flesh-eating flowers and furious but slow and crawly bugs at the size of small poodles weren't more than even tired warriors could handle.

    Nevertheless, the Returners were at their last ounce of strength. The hunger, exhaust and fear were nagging them all.

 "We'll be there soon," Setzer promised as they walked down another corridor, his voice giving away how tired he was as well.

    The only reply was relieved mutters. The gambler pursed his mouth and tried to hurry on.

    Yes… that's the last door.

    He smiled and tried the old handle as they reached it. To his relief the it didn't give him any troubles and opened flawlessly. He sighed softly as he stepped in and let his magic light rise to lit up the room. It was big, almost like a small chapel. Facing the door, above a stair of three steps was a platform. And on it was something long and softly rectangular, slightly thicker in one end.

    A darkly purple cloth was draped over the coffin, covered with dust and spider web. By the head end stood a pot of long dead flowers.

 "Morning, Darryl…" the albino gambler whispered to himself, smiling sadly.

    He was the first to admit he was a hopeless romantic, but he had never enjoyed the bittersweet kind. Too much of that in his own life.

    And he was well aware that all he had needed to do in order to save her had been not to take up her challenge to a race.

    But of course, he'd never back out of anything like that, it just wasn't him. And neither had she been.

    Somebody put a hand on his shoulder and Setzer looked around, a bit to his surprise finding Cyan watching him silently with his normally steel-hard eyes glimmering with understanding.

    Out of habit the gambler was about to defend himself, say that he hadn't had that kind of relationship with Darryl. It was just less painful than listening to the awkward condolences. However, just facing mute knowledge of a man who had lost those he loved above everything else, Setzer let it be what it really was and simply nodded slightly.

    Cyan nodded in return, so faintly that it was hardly noticeable. 

 "Alright, we're almost there," the gambler said as Cyan's hand left his shoulder.

    Setzer was closely followed by relieved sighs as he stepped forwards to the coffin and sunk down on one knee on the stair just before the platform.

 'Lesse… here somewhere…' he thought as he ran his hand over the wall of the highest step.

    Seconds passed and he begun to worry just before his fingertips finally found the faint bump and he pushed at it with fingers that almost shook.

    A cracking sound was heard from the darkness behind Darryl's resting place, followed by a sharp screeching of stone being scraped against stone. It lasted for a few painfully drawn seconds during which everyone pressed their hands against their ears to escape the horrid noise.

    It ended after what seemed like an eternity to the sound sensors that the humans and the moogle were granted.

    Setzer stood and brushed himself off, looking past the grave. He raised his hand and carefully, ready for anything, let the flame grow until a big opening in the far back wall could be vaguely seen.

    To make sure he stood still and waited for a few more moments, and trusting him the others in the hall kept silent. 

    Finally the gambler nodded with a smile.

 "Come on," he gently urged and stepped towards the darkness.

    Their hopes rising, the rest of the Returners followed him.

    They would never know how lucky they were that early morning. The disturbance of the silent grave may sometimes awaken a sleeping undead when there's magic in the air.

    However, to tear up a slumber as deep as Dullahan's, it would take a scream of the Earth itself. And thus, all the warriors made it through Darryl's tomb alive.

    The group left the resting place behind and entered another dark area, finding themselves on square ledge cut out by humans. The platform was big enough for them all, and there had been room for even more people. Facing the entrance a sturdy – if covered with cobwebs – bridge leading further into the dusk, where the low lights couldn't reach. The echo of the Returners' steps gave away that there was quite a lot of open space around them; also hinted by the less arid feeling in the air.

 "This is it, let's take a look," Setzer grimly said and raised both his hands, cupping them before his face.

    The flame in his left palm grew into his right as well, its light rising with its increasing size. As Terra and Strago moved up beside the albino to add their magical fires as well, it became enough to see the end of the bridge. It wasn't that long, only about six, seven yards. On the other side was something that looked suspiciously much like an airship.

    Its design was slightly different than the Blackjack; more rounded and less pointy. The biggest difference was that the balloon looming on its very own, thin metal skeleton was softly gray instead of black.

 "From here it looks alright," Edgar acknowledged, "maybe needs a little more air up there."

    He motioned at the somewhat slumping form of the balloon and met Setzer's thoughtful eyes.

 "What do you think?" the king added.

 "I guess we better take a closer look."

    Setzer began walking towards the bridge when Terra caught his upper arm

 "I think it's safer that I go first," she said with a tired smile at his questioning grunt due to the sudden stop, "if the bridge turns out not being safe, at least I can morph into my esper form and fly to safety."

 "Heh, good point," Setzer nodded and stepped back.

    The green-haired woman tried to muster another smile and crossed the big square. Carefully she placed her right foot on the dusty planks.

    Looked sturdy enough, below the signs of years of stillness.

    Felt sturdy enough.

    Sounded sturdy enough.

    Was sturdy enough?

    Despite their knowledge of Terra's flying abilities, all of her friends anxiously followed her very movement as she began to warily cross the hungry darkness. The sound of her footsteps was for the creeping seconds all that was heard.

    Her flame flickered eerily as she moved, and as she came closer and closer to the shadowed Falcon there were brief moments when Terra seemed to be walking on thin air since the light wouldn't show the bridge below her.

    But against all unease, she made it across. Standing by the fence encircling the deck she turned and waved to the rest of the group that it really was safe.

    Setzer was the next to cross, and one by one – just to be on the safe side – each one of the tired Returners made it to the ship.

 "Very well, so far so good," Edgar announced, using as much of his authority voice as he could muster, "but don't relax yet. We better have a look around to make sure there are no monsters here."

 "No tracks here," Gau announced, crouching on all four to inspect the thin layer of fine sand and dust on the planks, "but check below… can be hiding."

 "Precisely," the king said with a faint smile.

    It was hardly believable that anything living under the deck wouldn't have been moving about, however… better safe than sorry. It turned out being an unneeded worry however.

    The interior of the Falcon was as untouched as the outside, a fine layer of dust silently set on the carpets and the blankets covering most of the furniture. It was obvious that nothing had been there for a very long time.

    Just to make perfectly sure they teamed up in five smaller groups and checked through all the smaller rooms on Setzer's directions. For an unspoken reason the gambler grabbed Edgar and dragged him down the big hall towards their right.

    Clyde followed Relm and Gau as they walked to the lower floor of the inner ship. Without a word the three began pulling the protecting blankets off the sofa and armchairs that could be found there. Just seeing the pillows in the flickering light of the small girl's flame made them feel even more tired, even the sturdy Clyde was on his last strength.

 "Take a rest you two," he said to the youngsters, suppressing his own exhaust.

    Relm was about to protest that she could take just as much as anyone else, but it would have been just for the sake of habit and not anywhere near the truth. The fatigue won over her stubbornness and with a silent nod she laid down in one end of the sofa after placing her magical flame in her father's hand.

    With a huge yawn Gau laid down on the other end of the furniture and fell asleep immediately. Relm on the other hand shuffled the decoration pillow around a bit in her half-conscious state before she drifted off.

    Clyde smiled faintly and walked back towards the stairs to check on the others. He could hear their steps approaching on the upper level…

    There was a distant, metallic screech and all of a sudden the homey lamps adorning the walls sprung to life, shedding a warm, soft light that easily outdid the tentative magic.

    The two sleepers just muttered something and buried their faces against the sofa's soft skin, without waking up.

 "It works!" Setzer and Edgar's voices cheered, hardly heard from the deeper depths of the ship.

 "What art thee doing?" Cyan called as loudly as he dared, having seen the children on the sofa.

    The gambler's pale face became visible above a square hole in the floor, near the stern side of the ship. His earlier exhaustion seemed to have been blown away as he smiled widely.

 "The machinery still works though it's been five years since it was used last!" he cheerfully reported, "that means we can get out of here!"

 "Really!?"

    The warriors rushed over the floor towards the gambler, in their relief momentarily forgetting how tired they were. As they got closer to the man they could hear a humming sound as of a motor starting up.

 "It could use a little oil to move smoother, but it will indeed work," Edgar's voice assured from below the stair.

    Beneath Setzer's feet anyone who cared to look could see cogwheels turning and small puffs of fume erupt from a strange machine going even deeper within the ship. The humming got louder, but never reached a level of being too noisy. It stopped by bearable.

 "We're just refilling the balloon for now," Setzer informed the troop, "me and Edgar agrees that though we're in need of supplies it would be a very bad idea trying to make a break for it in broad daylight. It should be late morning out there by now."

 "Three minutes to half past nine," Strago nodded as he took out a small pocket watch from his robe, "we really should wait until tonight."

 "I guess it's too much to wish for that there's anything edible around here?" Locke commented with a grimace.

    Setzer's smile died and he sadly shook his head.

 "Afraid not. Unless you'd like to go out there and catch one of those giant insects."

    His attempt at humor wasn't even appreciated by himself.

As he had promised, Kefka had returned by lunchtime.

    Even if he hadn't heard anyone trying to open the door, Gogo had voiced his worry about whether or not anybody would be suspicious when attempting to enter the room and finding it to be locked. At that, Kefka had just finished shoving the serving tray with the food inside, closed the door and waved it off. According to him, servants only entered his chamber if they absolutely had to, thus the tray had been waiting.

    Now the brothers were trying to divide the lunch. There was quite a lot of various dishes; a lobster, a pair of chicken legs, rice, salad and a plate of fruit.

 "Don't eat too much," Kefka absentmindedly muttered while handing/throwing the chicken at his brother, "they will start to wonder if all of it disappears."

    Gogo raised his eyebrows.

    This Kefka, thinking rationally?

    But he chose to let this risk pass as well.

 "Gotcha," he just said and took one of the legs from the plate.

    Kefka nabbed the second one and leaned back, looking at his brother with amusement.

 "What?" the mimic snorted after swallowing a piece of well spiced meat.

    It wasn't that much, but it was the best meal he had had for years.

 "You look absolutely ridiculous," the madman commented.

    With a careful chuckle Gogo raised his cleaner hand to his helmet.

 "You mean this?"

 "Yeah. And Edgar called me a clown?" Kefka snickered and shook his head.

 "Well, it has served me well through the years."

    Gogo grimaced.

 "Besides, I don't think you'd like to see how my hair looks nowadays. Heck, I don't want to see how it looks."

 "You shouldn't awaken my curiosity, but I'll let it slide for now."

 "What a relief. So, anything new about the Returners?" the mimic carefully asked as Kefka buried his teeth in the bird's roasted flesh.

    Despite what many probably would believe, Gestahl's right hand did have enough manners not to speak when his mouth was full. Therefore it took a few moments before the answer came.

 "Nothing."

    The voice came with an indifferent shrug.

 "What, nothing at all?" Gogo said, trying to keep the complete relief off his voice.

 'Do you know if it's really true?' he silently asked Siren.

    Though their conversations went faster than breaths since they consisted of thoughts, she didn't have time to come to a conclusion before Kefka waved with his free hand dismissively.

 "Now don't you try to hide from me that you're not happy," he said with a hoarse chuckle, "you're a worse actor than I am."

 'I… don't think he's hiding something,' Siren quickly whispered, 'it's hard to see from the outside though.'

 "Well what can I say?" Gogo mildly said and shook his head, daring to continue, "and I thought it would make you more irritated than you sound right now."

    Kefka looked up with a slanted smirk.

 "Oh, don't get me wrong," he merrily said, "nothing would be funnier than watching that pretty little troop get torn limb from limb by a behemoth, but seeing how much they have survived so far it doesn't really surprise me. Besides…"

    His eyes didn't really change, but a dangerous flame flickered in the back of them.

 "… It seems like Gestahl won't let me enter the hunt in any case. So it wouldn't even be fun if they got caught now."

    Gogo clenched his teeth. Despite way better knowledge and a wave of worry from Siren, he couldn't keep his mouth shut this time.

 "You didn't use to be like that, Kef," he said, sternly.

    And it even surprised himself that he didn't regret speaking when it was too late.

    The chicken leg in Kefka's hand flipped through the air and somewhat neatly crashed on its plate as the man leaned back. The brothers watched each other. Not threatening, but challenging.

    In her own silent mind, Siren wondered if her Returner friend was suicidal by nature.

 "And what's it to you?" Kefka finally asked.

 "You are my brother after all."

    Gogo mimicked the memory of his mirror's movement and sent his own lunch to the plate as well. He felt more ready for defense when not holding a piece of food.

 "I'm only wondering, what made you become so bloodthirsty?" he dared.

 'Eh, Gogo… careful!' Siren desperately warned.

 'God damn it, I can't take it anymore!' the mimic snarled back, 'that's not my brother talking!'

 'You'll risk everything you've won back after less than 24 hours?'

    Gogo was about to reply, but Kefka cut him off.

 "People do change over twenty years, Kerr," he said, rather matter-of-factly.

 "Ah yes, of course," the mimic replied in the same sort of voice.

 "Besides, I've become insane along the way, what's there to say?"

 "You're not insane, Kefka."

 "Aren't I?"

    The man with the make-up bent forwards and hid his blood-red lips behind a loose fist as he chuckled, mocking modesty.

 "Oh forgive me for laughing," he snickered between the screeching noises, "but I'm pretty sure you're in minority with that opinion."

 "Says who?" Gogo pressed, frowning.

    He forced himself to remain still as Kefka suddenly stood and moved past the table. But the only thing that was anything similar to an attack… was a knocking on the feathered helmet.

 "Heeello, have you been inside of a giant worm for the last couple of decades?"

    The imperial lord met the glare with a cheeky grin.

 "Ah right, my bad. You have."

 "Kefka…" Gogo began, but fell silent when his brother waved his pointing finger from side to side, draping his cloak around himself in a fluid motion.

 "Listen here, bro, I am a psychopath. So says I and the rest of the world. Didn't you listen to what the Returners said?"

    The mimic sighed and looked away, waving lightly with his hand. Frustrated and trying to hide it.

 "They didn't say that much about you actually," he muttered.

 "Ah, the refined types I see."

 "More or less."

    Gogo turned back and glared up at his brother again.

 "I didn't want to hear it from them and I definitely want to hear it from you, because I refuse to believe it."

 "Did you hear Gestahl call you a nostalgic fool, Kef? I guess me and him finally agree on something again."

    Chuckling Kefka retook his seat, without any signs of having noticed his slip of the tongue. Gogo tried not to watch him to intensively because of the mistake, hiding his new tension behind the irritation he had tried to fight back earlier.

 "Well anyway, I'm on a bit of a tight schedule here," the pale one said, waving the whole argument off, "eat up already."

 'I… think you can relax,' Siren mumbled, sounding somewhat surprised about what she was saying, 'I don't think he's going to think it over. Get his mind off it just in case, you never know.'

 'I'm glad that I have a spy like you,' Gogo said, half sincere and half bizarre.

 'Sure. I just wish you could be a little less self destructive,' she snorted while the mimic took his chicken leg back from the plate.

 "Fine, you win," Gogo said aloud, managing a smile.

    Kefka smirked, lightly triumphantly.

    The mimic let it be.