(A/N) ...

Yeah. No excuses, I'm really, really sorry this is so late. College took over my life for a while, and when I did write, I was working on my short LotR fic, which is almost finished. I apologize. This fic is never meant to go on hiatus, and the long waits are not intentional, I promise!

Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, and you all can thank Arodelle for keeping my attention on this all this time. I had a hefty portion of this chapter done when I posted the last one, but WB came upon me unawares. It was brutal. But, I have muddled through to give you this not so long chapter, but it's what I've got.

Disclaimer: I own this thing called a brain. I've been told it's rare to find in people, but owning the rights to Tales of Symphonia is rarer yet. I don't have it, so don't sue me. My brain is mine, though.

Chapter 33

"Aah!"

Martel watched helplessly as the miners struggled to wrench the slab of stone off of a man's legs. It was fruitless, by all accounts. Among pained cries and grunts of exertion, the rock refused to budge, only held more firmly in place by the precariously arranged debris on top of it. Strong men had wedged pickaxes, arms, and legs beneath the object to no avail. Even Yuan, to her side, could only wince in sympathy.

"Maybe I could try some earth magic?" Yuan mumbled, still addled by the head injury.

"Do you think you can?" Her words sounded doubtful, but by gauging the man's pale, dazed countenance, 'doubtful' was a hopeful assessment. It was as if he couldn't really see her when he looked, eyes unfocused and confused. Seeing him in such a state was almost as worrisome as their situation. She only wished she had learned some basic elemental spells when she was younger. At the moment, healing, defense, and light spells were the only things occupying her arsenal.

The miners had been marooned in a wide, mineral rich sector of the tunnels, but the cave-in was impenetrable. The ceiling met the floor in a deadly slant littered with tipping boulders and sand trickling from above. The debris spanned the width of their mining area, and digging out seemed all but impossible. The threat of monsters had kept the men where they were, but the few wooden struts holding the massive weight of rock above them wouldn't hold out much longer.

"'Course I can." Yuan's answer broke Martel out of her thoughts.

At this point, he had the attention of a few of the workmen. They ceased in their futile labor, training enraptured gazes on them.

"Magic? Does that mean you can get us all out of here?" One quickly piped up.

"I've never seen magic." Another was murmuring.

"I don't know. He doesn't look too good." The wizened miner in the group added.

Yuan had already started his chant, however, too late to respond. The rhythm to his words was staccato and broken where it should have been flowing. Yet, the phrases were not slurred, and Martel was surprised when the magic circle activated in spite of the state of the caster.

The tip of a stony pillar jutted out of the ground underneath the protruding slab, and Martel felt a smile form as the rock was forced to lift. There was a gasp of relief from the afflicted miner, and hands quickly tugged him free. Her hands were already glowing with a first-aid spell before she knelt by the man's side.

The man's trousers were stained with blood and ripped near the knees, but it seemed most of the scratches weren't too deep. However, his legs lay at a strange angle that was promising an intense pain. The right leg was surely broken, having taken the brunt of the massive stone's weight, and that's where Martel started to repair first.

Zerai thought he knew quite a bit about the strange assortment of people he had become entangled with. Yet, now marooned in a darkened tunnel, he found what he did know was clearly not much. As the blonde child explained something about a seal and spirits, all the Sylvaranti could think was how deep he was into this foreign crap. From what he could see, they remained trapped in a bad place.

"Why are you so ecstatic about this? We're still stuck." He finally pointed out, succeeding in getting a glare out of Kratos and a huff from the boy.

"No, we're not." The halfling's patience was mocking and he knew he was being patronized. By a child. It was enough to rake against his nerves.

"How? It's not as if an escape route will magically appear!"

His outburst was met with silence. While the Sylvaranti thought he'd gotten his point across, Kratos turned away and Mithos snorted.

"Gnome? I have some friends stuck somewhere in these tunnels. Can we pass by them before we leave?"

A pause.

"Thanks!"

Oddly, it felt like he was hearing half of a conversation. Zerai shot a look at the Tethe'allan swordsmen for clarification, but the man appeared unperturbed by the strangeness of it all. What kind of nutters had he run into? They were all insa-

The floor shook, the dull roaring of shifting stone accompanying it.

Another earthquake? His eyes scoured the room for a means of shelter, but there was none. We're all going to die! And he figured that pessimistic thought would be his last.

However, the ceiling never fell. Instead, he found himself staring in awe as a gaping hole was bent out of the wall ahead of him. The darkness spread and the stone seemed to fold in upon itself. The crumbling was destructive and constructive all at once. He was sure that the pocket of space they were in would crumple under the strain of the morphing wall, but somehow it didn't. When the ground stilled, he could spot a freshly created tunnel just beyond the reach of his lantern. It stood, dark and uninviting, exactly like it had been there for all eternity.

"Let's go!" Mithos' voice was giddy with excitement, and he practically skipped into the exit of his creation. The Sylvaranti was speechless.

"The cave just—"what did it do? "bent to his will." His legs followed the bobbing blonde head of hair woodenly. He could see that Kratos was slightly awestruck by the display as well, for he didn't brush off the conversation as quickly as was customary.

"It was something." Kratos replied vaguely, adjusting to the scenario rather quickly. He fell in stride with Mithos, already thinking different, cryptic thoughts by the looks of it.

Perhaps Zerai was the only one who was fazed by this mess.

It certainly seemed so, with the way Kratos was preoccupied, and the carefree attitude of the hyperactive, power-crazed teen. Though, he liked to think that the swordsman was working on a way out of the verbal duel he had won only a half-hour prior. The threads of information he had woven were frayed in too many places for him to see the bigger picture, but he could tell that a few underlying forces were at work. These could bend to his advantage, to the advantage of all of Sylvarant if he worked the right angle. Whatever royal tie the stoic man held might be of use to his country in this war.

That, and this power that the child wielded. However, his puzzlement would not be cured so quickly.

Yuan was panting with the exertion of his magic when the rattling of pebbles met his ears. At first he thought the ringing was a symptom of his headache, but the noise grew. When Martel tossed him a worried glance, he knew that she could hear it as well. The ground trembled slightly, but they had nowhere to go- the nearest exit was a hundred yards to their right. He was conscious enough to ready a guardian spell that was hopefully large enough to shield some of the miners. Imagine his surprise when the far wall of the cavern folded in on itself. A darkened hole formed, neatly shifting the stone like it was putty. Oddly, there was no damage to the surrounding cavern despite the aching hole in its support. Seconds passed without any further seismic activity, and the wall had settled again. Now the gaping hole stood like a wall of darkness in front of their astonished party.

They stared for a moment, a few miners daring to creep towards the freshly hewn corridor in curiosity. They held their lanterns up to better the view, and immediately a shock of blonde hair popped into view, a pale light following not far behind.

"Martel?" Mithos was quickly embracing his sister, oblivious to their shock.

"Mithos?" Both the stranded halflings were blinking in surprise, smiles managing to work into their expressions. Yuan spotted a blot of auburn behind the boy, accompanied by an oddly put off raven.

"You're all okay!" Grinning ear to ear, Martel's fingers wound into her brother's golden locks, worry tainting her features as she found the dried blood clinging to it. The 'how' was momentarily forgotten, as the companions reunited and examined where they all stood now.

"Gnome?" Yuan got the confirming nod from Kratos and sighed deeply. However the others had pulled it off, he was relieved beyond belief. The miners seemed dumbstruck, and the halfling felt a grin split his face, despite the headache.

"You guys better be ready to see some real magic."

Another long walk through another inky tunnel was completed without delay, the injured staggering and the weary dragging their feet.

The metaphorical light at the end of the proverbial tunnel had never felt so tangible until that moment, when Mithos was forced to shield his eyes. The flash of sunlight was blinding to his gloom-accustomed pupils, and those around him were still cheering in spite of it. They approached the fresh, mountainous air to the sound of a trickling stream and the titter of birds. The halfling boy had hardly noticed the stifling silence of the underground until the outdoor ambience had been restored.

He had missed it.

When the sun finally touched his dirt-smeared face, Mithos felt exhausted. More mentally than physically, he slumped with the slowly building weight of exertion and unease. The battle with Gnome had been taxing, extremely so, but it felt wrong anyways.

As much as he wanted to feel pride well up in his chest upon facing the Spirit alone, a nagging voice in his head kept telling him that he didn't earn it.

It had been too easy. Gnome wasn't going all out. He even gave up right in the middle of the fight. What was Mithos supposed to think? He held his own for a couple minutes, sure, but he had been fast waning. If Gnome had bided his time, the blonde boy could have been dead with minimal effort. He never thought he would feel belittled by attaining a Summon Spirit's power, but his frustration was growing.

Gnome.

He finally addressed the being in his head, searching for answers while some of the underground workers pushed on to flag down the rescue rafts that had to be nearby. For a while he thought he was being ignored, but eventually the annoying squeak of the other's voice resonated through his head.

What do you want? Mithos internally scoffed. It's not like the guy was going anywhere, right?

Why did you let me win? He jumped straight to it. From their first encounter, the halfling knew that the Earth Spirit was far more informal than Volt was. Nevertheless, the matter was niggling at him like an itch, and he needed peace of mind.

You'd think you might have caught on by now. The blonde was already frowning, The world is going nuts, kid. I could have kicked your butt, but I can't remember the last time a Summoner approached me. I'm just glad that you woke me up.

Woke you up? He echoed in confusion, If you were sleeping, why the hell were there earthquakes wreaking havoc on the region?

I wasn't sleeping. Gnome hissed defensively, When we don't take corporeal form, Summon Spirits are only semi-conscious. The mana supply is dipping like crazy and it's instinctual to try to compensate. Now I'm awake, I know that releasing all that earth-based energy was stupid. The only way to do anything about it is to accept your pact. Mithos was sporting a full-blown scowl by now.

So all the other Spirits are going to cause trouble too? He heard the hum of validation and sighed. On an off note, he realized another truth. You didn't think twice about my vow.

You could have sworn to use my power building sand castles for all I care. I could see into your mind while we fought, and I knew you weren't sure of much. But while you were hacking at my precious fur, I picked up on another mind nearby. Mithos felt sorely cheated, and his eyes darted over to the standoffish redhead trailing alongside.

Your friends may have only a ghost of a chance in succeeding, but I'm glad I'm on their side. If anything can fix this world before it chokes itself, it's your pals over there. They were all the encouragement I needed to throw the fight and accept your pact. Again. It was just like with Volt. Kratos and Yuan were outshining him without even trying! How could their silent conviction be better than his spoken vow? All he kept hearing from the Spirits were whispers of inadequacy. He may not be great with a sword, but his magic abilities were nothing to laugh at.

Angry, and unsure as to why it bothered him so much, the halfling stalked on through the brush. The small party of bedraggled survivors had found the river, not far from where he'd dug them out. The blonde child only wore a few scratches and a bruised ego, but he felt filthy as they neared the stream. Grime had worked its way under his fingernails and into his hair, grains of the powdery dirt painting his tunic a dark brown he hadn't noticed while shrouded in shadow. He told himself to cool off, feeling guilty for feeling jealous in the first place. They were all together, and alive, and they'd even managed to save the miners from what would have been starvation.

He had to count it as a win.

The three half elves and two humans had managed to snag a small raft for themselves after the worst of the injured had been sent ahead to receive treatment in Chiasmos. The flat bunch of secured logs was rough and rudimentary, but Kratos was content to watch the current lap gently along its edges. He was tired, even while unhurt, and could only empathize with how the others must be feeling. He used the silence to assess his companions.

Yuan, while amusingly disoriented, was refusing to shut up. Kratos would sooner die than say as much, but he had been worried when he had first caught sight of the teal-haired Sylvaranti. And rightly so, if the dazed expression and pale skin were much to go by. Martel assured him that it was simply a mild concussion, so he had written off his concern as quickly as possible. He pretended, for all outward purposes that it had never existed.

And really, he tried to convince himself that it hadn't.

Still, the pale halfling adamantly ran through Mithos' story again and again. When Yuan found out that the boy had faced the Summon Spirt by himself, the blunette's muddled reasoning was almost painful to listen to.

"So you guys ran into him afterwards? How friggen lucky was that? A bit useless of you, actually, now that I think about it." Yuan rambled drunkenly.

"How many brain cells did you lose?" Kratos quirked a smile at the scandalized expression that flit across the other's face. His words carried poorly disguised fondness empty of malice, but Yuan wouldn't catch such a subtlety in his state.

Yuan didn't rise to the taunt, but his eyes were flashing with mischief. He redirected the conversation back to the beginning with thinly veiled purpose.

"I wonder..." The halfling paused as if caught in heavy thoughts, "how such a reunion took place? Was there crying and rejoice? Expressions of concern? Did the mighty swordsman revert to the tenderhearted human so deeply buried inside him?" Kratos sighed resignedly in response. Was Yuan five? Apparently a Yuan with a headache was. However—much to his unanticipated horror—the quiet Zerai opened his mouth to answer. His lethal russet glare had alarmingly little effect.

"Mithos hugged him," the man shrugged, then in a very dramatic stage-whisper, "and he hugged back!" It was an uncharacteristic show of camaraderie, and he was blindsided by a betrayal he never expected. Mithos' cheeks colored and Kratos averted his own, slightly smoldering, gaze. He silently vowed to add a touch more venom to his 'shut-up-or-die' glower. Kratos corrected himself. It wasn't a betrayal, because there was no trust.

It was an act of war.

"Kratos conveyed empathy!"

The chirp of amusement came from Yuan. Internally, the redhead groaned—outwardly he winced at Yuan's volume. He was never going to hear the end of it. And this peppier version of a mind-addled halfling would drive the matter into the ground far more thoroughly than usual. However, the Tethe'allan would not concede defeat easily, now steadfastly set on denial.

"You're delirious, Kaafei. Someone ought to look at that head injury." His arms were crossed, but Yuan could feel the embarrassment behind the words. He found himself grinning.

"But you care!"

"You'll get much worse if you keep talking."

"No compassion for a concussion?" the singsong reply.

The idle threats only fueled the fire, and Kratos knew that the more ruffled he became, the more Yuan was enjoying himself. In spite of this knowledge, he couldn't bite back another jab.

"I'd say you deserve it." It was harsh, and Yuan's raised eyebrows said as much. Unluckily, the quirked brow was not in offense but mirth. "You had a head against rock collision coming since day one." Yuan's eyes clouded before lighting up at the distant, distant memory. Kratos' eyes widened slightly. Damn. He had unwittingly provided the halfling with perfect taunting material.

"If a hug would've made it better..." Yuan purposefully let his sentence trail, noting with satisfaction that Kratos hid his expression behind a fringe of auburn. The jesting halfling would like to think that the man was flushing in mortification. Point Yuan.

"Drop it." The retort was through grit teeth.

While on any other day the halfling might've pressed on with ceaseless torment, he was suddenly feeling merciful today. And quite frankly, he was secretly grateful that his old friend was uninjured and capable of his usual irritability. His head was slowly clearing, though still tender to the touch, and he let himself relax as the current pulled them towards what he hoped to be soft beds. The concussion put everything in a fuzzy haze, his vision dancing with doubles and shifting horizons. While he was thoroughly confused, he knew they had made it out a potentially deadly situation with minimal casualties.

And while he wasn't teasing Kratos, watching the landscape slip blurrily by was sobering. He really just wanted to drift off to sleep…

A hand gently shook his shoulder and the halfling came to with a start.

"You shouldn't fall asleep if you've got a head injury." Martel's voice was soothing, and it didn't exactly help Yuan stay awake. He shook off the drowsy spell as best he could, noticing the woman for the first time since they'd boarded the raft.

"Yeah, thanks." He mumbled, finding her emerald irises trained on him. She was stunning, even dirtied and drained, with the green of her eyes impossibly incandescent and her mouth playing at a warm smile. No amount of dust could dampen her brightness. Well, at least Yuan thought so. He was seeing two of her, so he could be a little mixed up.

Still. It was so hard to stay awake. He jostled himself upward into a better sitting position, one that was uncomfortable enough to keep his eyes open. The raft bobbed with his motion, water slapping in gently where it dipped lower.

"Hey!" Zerai jerked up from where he had lain supine near the edge, water dripping from the black locks that had gotten soaked with Yuan's movements. Yuan snorted in lieu of an apology, catching the freshly affronted look on the raven's face.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. It's no problem. Really." The Sylvaranti rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping. Yuan only raised a brow, instead glancing behind Zerai to see Kratos transition from his 'Mildly Loathsome' to his 'Very Irked' expression. Immediately, the halfling knew the annoyance level had been steadily rising from the start, and his lips twitched into a smile of anticipation.

The raft swayed violently as the man was unceremoniously dumped into the stream by none other than a murderous Kratos.

Mysan uttered a very unmanly noise when taken off guard, thrashing as he struck the surface of the water. There was a moment of astonished silence. Hands darted up to grasp the edge of their floating transport and it bobbed again as the Sylvaranti warily hoisted himself back on. Mithos gaped, Martel stared, Kratos fumed.

And Yuan laughed.

"You really did get on his bad side."

It wasn't long before the exhausted travelers (some wetter than others) had reached the mining village and checked in to the same inn. The few occupants of the town were buzzing about, doing whatever they could to aid the injured and the weary, cheering when they saw the members of the rescue team return intact. However, the afternoon light was fading into shadow as the sun dipped behind the towering mountain tops. Evening would be a while yet, but the heat of the day had passed. Kratos wasn't particularly tired, but sleeping now meant getting up before the next day was wasted.

It was in everyone's best interests to turn in early.

"We can aim for Flanoir tomorrow." Martel hummed tiredly, tugging an exhausted blonde behind her. The group trudged up the narrow staircase, wooden struts creaking underneath them as they approached their rooms for the night.

"Why are you so determined on Flanoir? We could rest for a day or two." The dark-haired fugitive muttered lowly. The casual use of 'we' made Kratos uneasy, and he was reminded of a seemingly ancient conversation so long ago. Flanoir struck a memory.

"Good King Aurion passed away just the other day. The funeral is going to be held at the end of the week." The teen pushed an auburn lock away from his face to better view the dark-haired carrier.

"Pardon?" His voice was unwavering as he stared uncomprehendingly at the Mizuhoan messenger.

"The King is dead. From illness." The man shook his head sadly, sympathetically. Kratos felt the weight crush him, and his breathing quickened. Harshly, he closed the emotions from his face and mustered an unintelligent "Oh." He almost felt as if he was going to be sick.

Dead? The grief crawled up his throat and his muscles tensed rigidly. His father couldn't be dead. His eyes flashed back to the moment as the courier gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Kratos flinched away from the unwelcome touch to his left side injury. The pain helped him refocus.

"Thanks for telling me, I'll be on my way then." He managed as cordially as possible without letting any intense sadness creep into his tone. Regular citizens were much more distanced from the king, he couldn't act like he was about to break down.

"Sorry, kid." The man averted his gaze guiltily as the bringer of bad news. His choppy shock of black hair licked up in a couple of areas and he nervously smoothed it down. "Guess I'll be off, too. Flanoir's a long walk." He sighed and disappeared into the woods as quickly as he came, leaving Kratos dumbstruck with his sword drawn. He sheathed it and slipped slowly to the ground while leaning heavily against the nearest tree.

It was so long ago, but the Tethe'allan remembered the exact words, the tone, the flippant way the Sylvaranti lied. It was a seamless fit over whatever demeanor he wore. It was only now, so many years later that Kratos was able to fully analyze that encounter. He scoffed.

Zerai hadn't even been heading in the direction of Flanoir. He'd been going west.

The prince had been so absorbed with keeping up a front, not disclosing anything, that he'd missed a painfully obvious fact.

"I recall saying you could return to Sylvarant, and I also recall you professing to be on the way to Flanoir. Is neither truly where you want to be?" He answered the unanswered question with an icy tone, still sore with the memory and angry with their fugitive problem.

"Sometimes what you want does not have any relevance to where you are." The human evaded smoothly, as if treading on dangerous ground. At least he was implementing more caution now. Kratos' thoughts returned to the freshly agitated memory.

The Sylvaranti had probably been heading to meet his fellow saboteurs—to notify them about the fortunate death of the Tethe'allan monarch.

How could he fake sympathy like that? It was so genuine, so unremarkable, that the royal had almost forgotten the first encounter by the second. Knowing that the man had likely been internally rejoicing at his luck at the time made Kratos' stomach churn. Kratos could fake indifference, he could hide almost any feeling save rage, but he would never be able to produce an emotion that wasn't real. He wasn't sure he'd want to.

He shot another wary look at the unreliable commander that was beginning to feel like a dagger in his side.

Perhaps they could part ways soon.

Zerai knew he was on a tight rope.

He could see Kratos was on to him—didn't trust him. He'd never trust him, but that didn't matter. He just had to speak carefully around the Tethe'allan and build up a status quo. If he could establish normalcy, maybe the human would get off his back. Zerai noted that he was getting careless around these people. He nearly forgot that he wasn't one of their comrades in the cave mix-up, and Kratos had not been forgiving of his slip of the tongue. He was not one of them. 'We' was a dangerous word, if it was not slowly ingrained. Unfortunately Kratos had picked up on the fact that he had no intention of leaving this group any longer.

They were too interesting. There was power and secrecy here, sure. There was urgency. There was more to it than what it appeared.

And it didn't look like Yuan was going to represent Sylvarant.

What else could he do?

His choice was made for him.

They all turned in, separate rooms for all but the halfling siblings. He noted that Mithos looked more sullen than usual, which was odd considering how chipper he was earlier. Paired with a sluggish Yuan, a suspicious Kratos, and the unerringly kind Martel, the boy wasn't exactly on Zerai's list of problems yet. Kratos topped that one—but he liked to think that he was at the top of Kratos' list as well. The raven collapsed on the mattress, underused prison muscles complaining and mind fatigued. His mouth quirked up satirically.

He was not at his best yet. But he would be.

(A/N) Yeah, I know it's kind of short. It was an awkward length before the next travel period, so I figured ending here would be the most conclusive Gnome arc final thought I could manage. Some character analysis was put in, and the banter flowed a bit. Overall, I think it's a bit choppy, but I've got plans coming up, so hopefully things will be better next time. Again, really sorry!

Please R&R, reviews really do make me excited to write more!

Thank you for sticking with this story! I really appreciate it.