Chapter 25, Much needed jailbreak

A heavy bar, almost one and half an inch thick, swung a nervous hand downwards with its weight as the metal and skin connected and fingers curled around the short staff.

 "There's only three. It takes too long to cut of one of these now, so they'll have to do," Shadow explained to the prisoners that now had stood up from the floor and cot to assemble for further instructions, "I'll give this last one to one of the others. Try to keep the bars even during our escape, we need iron in Figaro castle."

    He turned his head briefly, to indicate the other cell where two more ragged men nervously waited. Those that stood before him nodded.

 "When I take out the first guard, somebody will have to take his sword. Don't waste time fighting over it, understand?"

    They did.

 "Fine then. Prepare yourselves. We have to be quick."

    And the assassin slid out of the cell once more, across the corridor and into the other room. He gave the same quick lecture to the two prisoners in that cell and then slipped up beside the door, waving at all the prisoners to take position. They quickly moved back to their original positions on the floor and cots.

    While this happened, steps had begun to be heard in the stair. A new guard approached.

    The man in the brown uniform stepped up to the cells, threw a bored glance into the one to his right, then to his left. And begun to turn.

    Shadow glided out of his current cell, and though the soldier noticed something from the corner of his eye he got no chance to sound any alarm. He slumped to the floor in an unmoving heap.

 "Hurry!" Shadow hissed.

    He had hardly finished speaking before the prisoners were moving across the floor, diving out of the cells. The unarmed one from the prisoner triplets easily pulled the sword out of the fallen guard's sheath, showing no sign of being bothered by the dead body. If that was a good or bad sign could be debated later.

    The last unarmed prisoner nervously stayed in the back of everything, though all of them stood still for the moment, waiting for Shadow's next move.

    Fingers clad in black gloves produced four tack stars from the heart of the assassin's belt.

 "Once we're down there, you focus on the remaining guards and I'll open more cells," the assassin ordered his small troop in a low voice, "do not attempt to leave the house or go further downstairs before I say so. Got that?"

    There was a low but resolute murmur.

 "Good. Then let's go!"

    And Shadow dove down the stairs, the five prisoners following him as closely as they dared as he drew his hands back and sent the metal stars flying through the much wider corridor below. Two imperial guards were hit square in the throat and went down instantly, gurgling and coughing blood for a few moments before they died. The third star hit a guard from behind, two of the sharp points disappearing in his shoulder. Screaming in pain he fell to his knees, while the soldier he had just been walking past showed excellent skills in instinctual ducking and threw himself aside. Five and half a problem left, with the wounded one counted. At least on this floor. The scream would call up the other ten or so guards from below, already surprised, questioning shouts were heard from the first floor.

    One guard had been just a couple of feet from the foot of the stair, now paralyzed in shock staring up at the charging little army.

    Shadow's already bloody dagger flashed.

    Four and half a problem.

    There were four doors in this bigger corridor, only three of them bared. The one to the right, closest to the stair, was a normal one. But its small size hinted at that the only thing in there was a toilet.

    The still living guards had however drawn their weapons by now.

    Shadow was already on the floor and diving towards the left to reach the nearest cell, lashing out his dagger to hold off the charging guard for the second needed for the new Returner recruits to attack. They wasted no time, lounging at the symbol for their stolen freedom with animalistic ferocity. It was quick.

    The wounded guard and the one who had ducked were near the stair down, hesitantly staring at the assaulting force. Meanwhile the last unarmed prisoner took the sword of the guard that Shadow had cut to death when reaching the ground. Two other guards were behind the stair to the upper floor, cut off from everything by the freed prisoners who now assembled in a half circle around the assassin, whom had sheathed the dagger and rammed his dirk into the lock of the new cell. It didn't take him more than ten seconds to make the lock open, but by then guards had begun streaming from the lower floor, giving the other four courage to attack.

    The two cornered guards charged as their friends neared the suddenly outnumbered prisoners.

 "Look out!" Shadow roared.

    He grabbed the prisoner nearest the two attackers by the shoulder and shoved him aside, which led to that the man also sent the rebel beside him stumbling towards the stair. The two guards met the bar door in the middle of their charge, because of Shadow tearing it open so that it swung into the soldiers. They staggered backwards and fell to their backs, knocked out cold.

    But from the other direction, about eleven new soldiers charged, and though the prisoners bravely assembled and did their best to parry, they were outnumbered. The guards killed with tack stars were on the wrong side of the battle; Shadow couldn't retrieve his throwing weapons and his dagger would do him little good in this situation; he'd have to reach past his allies to fight.

    So he improvised.

    Diving to the two unconscious guards he tore off their helmets and spun around, aiming well and true. Two more guards stumbled out of the fray, leaving a brief breather. But it wouldn't hold.

    However, by now the prisoners in the opened cell had fully awakened and though confused, they grasped the big part of the picture. Five more men in ragged clothes and with unruly beards of varying length dashed out of the cell, the first couple nabbing the offered swords Shadow more or less threw at them. Two more warriors and three still unarmed men gained.

    Of course, it was still uneven even if the prisoners had higher numbers. Even if the ones that had armed themselves showed clear signs of knowing how to handle their weapons, the Returners were weakened from their time in captivity – while the guards were well-trained and had conquered their surprise long ago. As one of the prisoners stumbled backwards, the sword falling out of his hand while blood streamed over his shirt from his chest, Shadow leapt into the fray, stabbing at the half a second ago triumphant guard. The assassin aimed for the throat, but the soldier was already moving and managed to get away with a cut shoulder. Quickly the man in black leapt back before he got attacked; if more than one soldier decided to hack away at him at the same time he'd have no chance to parry with only his dagger.

    But Shadow's place was filled by one of the last prisoners, whom had picked up the dying ally's bloodied weapon. The man that had been hurt was being clumsily tended to by the unarmed men, even if he was coughing out his lasts breaths even as they tried to drag him out of harm's way.

    Clenching his teeth, the assassin pressed his palms together with the dagger sticking out between the little fingers. It was risky, but they couldn't afford too many wounded. And by now, the outside soldiers must have heard the sounds of battle from inside. All the still locked up men on the floor had already awakened, standing by the bar doors and trying to see what was going on while cheering at the rebels.

 "Spirits of thunder, hear my prayer…"

    Small bolts of lightning shot down from the air above the fighters, striking into the moving bodies. The hit ones cried out in surprised pain, three soldiers and one prisoner. Shadow cursed for the sake of the last man, but the magic wasn't strong enough to kill. It added a little help to the rebels, even if it had been a risk.

    There was another breather now, the soldiers were momentarily disarrayed though the prisoners were a little shaken as well. A shout from Shadow smacked most of the freedom fighters back into action however.

 "Spirits of thunder…"

    Sweat stained the mask of the assassin as he spun towards the opened cell, forcing the twisting power of the lightning to do his bidding. Even if it wasn't a strong blast, it fought to oppose the unusual use. For one who hadn't mastered magic by far, it was a strain.

    Not a too difficult strain however. A pure white bolt shot out from Shadow's fingertips, hissing and tearing its way through the abandoned cell and through the window.

    Shouts came from outside, now the guards in the square knew that something was going on inside, and they'd move in.

    But it wasn't a signal to them.

    The bolt shot past the wall surrounding Maranda, ripping a hole in the night air before it died.

    On a safe distance for the now startled guards on the wall, a former general's slender fingers constricted around the piece of magicite she held as the signal flared into sight. Nimble but strong hands covered hers, fingertips stroking the glassy surface of an esper's remains. A third grip was added, these fingers older and wiry.

 "Ifrit, warrior of fire, we call upon you!" Celes hissed.

    An explosion of light erupted from the magicite, shooting through every crack between the human flesh that was pressed against the magic material.

    A mighty roar shook the square of Maranda, and the guards reared backwards in shock as a ball of fire appeared in their midst. Even more when from it tumbled a smooth, horned beast whom with a devilish grin of hungry vengeance brandished its red hot claws and tore away at the servants of the empire, strengthened by the power of three human magic users. Soldiers fell to the left and right, even if barely scratched by Ifrit finding their uniforms highly on fire. Needless to say, complete chaos erupted while the soldiers fled or fell to the ground either unconscious or to desperately attempt to kill the flames in their clothes.

    Of course, all the screaming was enough to awaken the guards that were sleeping, but the surprise and disorganization would cost the empire precious time.

    Ifrit flew towards the nearest part of the wall where the soldiers to get away fell over each other and off the ledges they had been standing on. He wouldn't last long, but with the extra help it would be longer than usual. And he was set on using every second he had.

    Meanwhile, Shadow stunned another guard with a magical lightning bolt, long enough for the man to be cut down. It was pure wonder that only one of the prisoners had been killed so far – wonder with some help from magic and anything that could be thrown to do damage – but another one had fallen with a nasty cut in the side and two had been forced to drop their swords and retreat due to wounded arms. Their places were filled by the wild eyed last two prisoners, who took the first chance to leave the disheartening dead body of their lost ally before fear hindered them.

    One of the recently hurt men was trying to drag the one with the big wound out of the fray of wildly moving feet, despite the fact that his torn, dirty right sleeve was turning dark red with blood. Shadow didn't have time to try a healing spell for any of them, he had to help in the battle. They had gotten it down to seven guards, but the fact was still that there were only six prisoners and one assassin that still could fight properly. Something would have to happen or they would definitely fail; the rebels were really starting to buckle under the attacks even if the soldiers didn't look overwhelmingly strong either anymore. The fury of the prisoners came however from the desperate will to be free again, and that still empowered them.

    Red light flashed from outside accompanied with screams, but for the fighters it offered no distraction as they could see no window and were too caught up in their own shouts and moves to notice.

    A rebel on the rightmost side of the fight stumbled backwards and fell to the floor roaring in pain while his right hand landed on the floor tiles tramped by the men who still could fight. For a moment it became a dangerous distraction for the nearest men of both sides since those who vaguely noticed what had happened didn't feel too inclined to step on the fallen limb.

    This created an opening beside the wall, however. Shadow didn't waste it, flashing through the offered spot and ramming his dagger into the back of the nearest soldier even as he passed by.

    Another one bites the dust.

    With a little help from the prisoner who just barely regained his senses after having seen his friend loose a hand, if nothing else than for survival instincts. The dagger didn't kill the soldier, but stunned him long enough to have his chest run through with a sword from one of his dead comrades.

     Another body and a sword hit the floor.

     Six guards.

     Even while the last loss was still in the living shock of feeling his insides stabbed through, Shadow ripped his dagger free and rammed it into the side of the next soldier's neck before anyone had time to react.

     Five guards.

     An elbow desperately shot backwards, but Shadow gracefully bent out of the way of the hit, grabbed the arm with his free hand and tore the soldier backwards while kicking at the back of the man's knees. The guard buckled backwards with a desperate shout, the flailing of his arms hitting his own ally to the right of him, disorienting the other man for a dangerous second.

    Partly dumb luck, really.

    Three guards.

    Surrounded and pushed up against the wall by the men they should have made sure never left their cells for as long as the empire of Vector ruled the world.

 "Hold!" Shadow snarled at the prisoners as swords pressed against swords held by men with no means of escaping.

    He had to shout again to stop the rebels from pressing on until they'd manage to execute their former wardens. The worst hostility subsided a little, even if the three soldiers still were squeezed between their own swords and the wall.

 "And you?" the assassin growled at the mildly said frantic looking men of the empire.

    A tense moment followed until the leftmost guard's head dropped in defeat. It was like popping a bubble; the other two let their shoulders sag and all three of them dropped their swords as the rebels suspiciously backed a little – without moving far enough off not to be able to stab the objects of their hatred dead within a second.

 "Where are the keys to the cells?" Shadow demanded.

    No reply. The soldiers all refused to look at the man in black. At least until the tip of a sword pressed against his cheek forced the left guard to turn his head in the right direction.

 "Keys," Shadow repeated, his voice a growl deep down in his throat.

 "We don't have spares!" the soldier blurted out as the steel pushed at his all too thin skin, "they're all in the barrack!"

 "What barrack?" the assassin questioned.

 "The inn! We call it the barrack!"

    The words tumbled over each other as they all tried to get out at the same time.

    Shadow nodded.

 "Good enough."

    He looked at his troop.

 "Keep an eye on them."

    With that short order he headed to the nearest cell, collecting his tackstars from their bloodied work as he went.  

    Three of the Returners left the guarding duty after a quick discussion, to tend to the wounded while Shadow as quickly as he could dirked the remaining prisons open. It took him a couple of minutes. During this time he heard several heartening cracking and sharply fizzling sounds from outside, as well as saw the flashes from the magic attacks accompanied with a good deal of shouting and screaming.

 "What the hell is that?!" a voice from the cell further down the hall shouted while Shadow worked on the first lock.

 "Backup," the assassin shortly replied, focusing on the task at hand.

    Celes, Cyan and Locke had obviously recovered from their group-summon of Ifrit and gone into action themselves. It was dangerous for them to draw attention by attacking the walls and anybody who was foolish enough to show himself up there, but unlike the rebels inside Maranda, the three Returners on the outside could flee into the night.

    The rebels got ten more helpers when the cells were opened, making the troop nineteen warriors out of which at least three were unable to fight. The fourth wounded man loudly claimed that he could still do battle since it was his right arm that had been "scratched".

    Shadow held the last door open and waved at the three tense soldiers.

 "Get them inside."

    Moments later he shut the door and the lock went into place with a click before the guards. The looks on their faces, a mix of horror and rage, warmed many a harsh prisoner heart that night.

    The fallen guards' weapons were enough to equip everyone, and the spare ones were brought along down to the next floor – the bottom one. As they passed the cell where the soldiers were, very few of the Returners kept from spitting at the bars or making rude signs with their hands while smirking broadly. Shadow went last this time, as the nether floor was silent. Doing so he watched as two of the rebels whom had managed to avoid worse wounds picked up the dead prisoner from the floor, the bigger one of them hanging the fallen over his shoulder.

    For a moment Shadow considered telling them to leave it be, but seeing the rage flare in the carrier's dark eyes and the lips somewhere within the short black beard constrict as he secured his grip of the corpse, the assassin let the subject slide.

 "Emperor Gestahl will kill you all!" one of the soldiers screamed in wild frustration as the last back disappeared down the stair, "he'll destroy you!"

    But nobody had time to get angry at that, even if Shadow briefly reflected on the fact that it seemed like somebody had been around Kerr a bit too much. 

    The bottom floor that once had been the shop itself had been rebuilt as well. The desk and counter were gone; a new wall had cut the room in two. And in that new addition were three more bar doors, blinking and roughly awakened prisoners stumbling over each other by the bars and loudly cheering or demanding explanations in hesitantly hopeful confusion.

    The sound level was almost getting ridiculous as Shadow pushed his way past allies, as careful with the wounded as he could when he had to pass them.

    The man with the lost hand would need help as soon as possible; somebody had helped him by wrapping the wound up in what appeared to be a ripped off piece of an imperial uniform. But he was pale as ashes, heavily seated on a chair by a table just beside the stair. Shadow hesitated for a few seconds as he saw this, but clenched his teeth and changed the course.

    He'd regret this later, he knew. Healing made him dizzy; it just wasn't his thing. But when he tried to turn away and focus on the cells instead of the constricted face covered in sweat, Relm's shocked face flashed before his inner eye. She had liked Interceptor, and Shadow. But realizing that her father was a paid murderer was still a piece of news that had shook her.

    The few rebels that had worriedly watched their badly wounded ally quickly parted when the assassin muttered at them to move.

    Eyes dimming over with pain turned upwards, wide open because of the tearing lightning bolts of agony ripping through the arm. His unfocused eyes could be a sign of shock, but it didn't appear to be enough to numb the reason.

    Clenching his teeth, Shadow focused.

 "Healing powers in our blood, bring an end to pain…"

    Green, wavering stars tentatively swept from his gloved fingertips but obeyed the will of the ninja as he glared at the blood soaked and dripping piece of cloth covering the disturbing stump. Training kept Shadow's stomach from turning; it was not the first time he had seen things such as this.

    It went better than the first time he had seen something similar, at least.

    The spell wasn't enough to heal the wound, but the man leaned backwards on the chair with a relieved sigh as the pain at least subsided into bearable. He even managed a faint, grateful smile while Shadow turned back to the prisons, trying not to stagger.

    Nope, healing just wasn't his thing… 

    Ramming his dirk into the lock of the cell closest to the stair, he managed to clear his head a bit again. He couldn't afford to show weakness if he was to lead this brute, desperate troop into freedom.

    He would not show weakness, for his family, for the Returners, for the world, and friends lost.

    The bottom floor prison had sixteen more allies to offer, and as soon as they were freed, the new Returners spilled out into the night, the ones that had managed to arm themselves leading the way and meeting the disarrayed force of the confused and panicked soldiers that stumbled at them, already brought off balance by Ifrit and the attacks at the wall.

    The gate of Maranda crashed free from its bounds – from the outside. Casually waving away the smoke rising from the fried grass on the ground beside the road, Locke stepped into view of the shocked last guards that just had been on their way away from the inn and to the old town square where the main battle now flamed.

    Smirking, the treasure hunter raised his hand in a signal.

 "King Edgar and the Returners sends Gestahl and Vector our love!"

    Those were the last coherent words heard on the southern end of Maranda for a while, since the attacking order of a more levelheaded soldier was drowned by the roar of Ifrit as he exploded into existence a second time that night, just above Locke's head. The beast dashed at the scrambling screaming soldiers, and beside his flames another shadow dashed. Claws and twin katanas flashed together and clashed with imperial swords as the dead esper and the warrior from the crushed Doma released all their fury on Gestahl's men.  

    Celes stumbled slightly but stubbornly kept standing, still on a fairly safe distance from the wall – though the flame of Ifrit's magicite shone like a flashlight in her hands. This second summon would drain her dangerously, but she refused to yield.

    She was focusing so strongly on keeping the esper going that she didn't notice the shape sliding up beside her in the darkness, not until a hand landed on her shoulder and another hand grasped the magicite she held. Celes instinctively tore away and the magical rock flashed dangerously as her concentration shattered. Distantly Ifrit roared in alarm, feeling his power waving in the middle of a battle with two soldiers.

 "Whoa there!"

    The hand grabbed the magicite before she could blink, shooting the owner's willpower through it and giving the esper a new boost. Locke grinned sheepishly in the eerie illumination of the dancing flame inside the rock.

 "Sorry about that," he murmured, though the grin remained.

    Celes breathed out quickly in relief, and caught herself even faster.

 "Just be glad that my hands were occupied or I could have made a thief brochette of you!" she hissed, hoarse with the growing mental exhaust.

 "That's treasure hunter even for you!" Locke howled, but for once he didn't sound hurt at all.

    And meanwhile, Cyan whirled through the streets which Shadow so carefully had avoided, the personification of Doma's vengeance engaging his hated enemies in a bloody dance. He broke through to the town square without any bigger trouble – that said despite the fact that his katanas shone with blood already at that point. The sight that greeted him was rather uplifting.

    The imperial soldiers had already been decimated and brought into complete disarray by Ifrit's first assault, and though the prisoners weren't an impressive troop number-wise they were still enough to hold their ground against the disorganized enemies, swords collected from the fallen almost systematically. There would naturally be losses, already several bodies in ragged clothes littered the ground together with ones in uniforms.

    Better do something about that.

    Cyan dived into the square, taking out three soldiers from behind. Not very honorable no, but at that point the warrior of Doma had to focus on keeping as many new allies alive as possible, and that had to be the priority.

    He was on his way to the next little group of guards when the door to the easternmost house swung open and even more prisoners stormed out, hardly pausing as they tore up any sword they could get their hands on and attacking the soldiers that were beginning to loose the slight advantage of numbers.

    Cyan momentarily caught Shadow's eye as the assassin dashed into the battle from the open door, now equipped with a stolen sword as well. The two men nodded briefly before they again lost sight of each other.

    Gestahl would loose another battle, they were sure of it now.

    But what the Returners did not know was that with this victory, they risked the life of a friend not even remotely close to the bloodshed.

I'm not that happy with this chapter, it seems to just drag on. If you have any suggestions on how to improve this, and other bits of the story, I'll be happy to hear them.

… apart from requests of hot, steamy Sabin/Kerr lemons, thankyouverymuch. *shudders*