Chapter 8: The End Justifies the Means
Renault quickly yet quietly shut the church door behind him. Walking past the pews through the center of the main aisle, he nodded to several of his fellow followers of Saint Elimine. Reaching the altar, he bowed his head for a moment.
"By the light and by the stars," Renault murmured softly as he gripped his staff. "I pray to you for the future and how they are." Straightening up, he walked to the door on the right.
The room inside was made of wood, the same kind as the rest of the church was made of. But charms against fire and damage hummed quietly in the wood. Renault knew who had placed the spells within. On the other side of the room, another man in the similar garb of a Bishop sat in a creaky wooden swivel chair.
"I see you're finally back, Renault," a man's voice said. "I trust you found more information concerning the connection between the bearers of Fear and Horror?" Bishop Renault bowed to the man.
The man, dressed in the same garb of a bishop as Renault, had a white beard, which extended down to the man's waist. His head was slowly balding, showing only traces of wispy white hair around the ears. The other Bishop had blue eyes that could pierce a person's mind if they wished. This other follower of Saint Elimine was obviously Renault's superior but he was significantly gaunter and less experienced in the ways of war. While Renault can easily be mistaken for a warrior due to his height, his superior was very diminuitive. His hands were gnarled, showing the world of the magic that assaulted his hands before. Renault's own hands were still fine but signs of over-using magic were appearing from the cracks that were evident on his hands.
"Pope Baldwin," Renault said as he hung his cloak on the cloak rack on the wall to his right. "It is an honor to speak to you personally." The two believers of Elimine shook hands.
"How are you during these cold times?" Pope Baldwin asked his friend as they both sat down across from each other. "I do believe you are more at home with the seasons of warmth?"
"Aye, that may be so," Renault replied. "But where Saint Elimine sends us, we must obey. How else are we to prevent the rise of demons?"
Pope Baldwin nodded his head. "Aye, we of the Church have sworn to protect Elibe from this menace. So far, I do believe we are to be the generation to discover the vessels, don't you think so?"
Renault couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly. "Couldn't have put it any better, Master Pope. If the records and visions are true, then the Order of Runeseekers will be able to eliminate this threat."
"Bishop Renault," the Pope patted his subordinate on the right shoulder. "It is amazing to see that you have risen quickly through the ranks of the Order of the Runeseekers. May I ask something? How is it that you know so much of the Demon Brothers?"
"I hate to be sounding boastful, Master Pope," Renault said. "But it was through a recent friend from whom I've managed to learn the whereabouts of the demons. From that reliable source, I've managed to target the location of the demons."
"Oh really?" There was a pique of interest in the Pope's tone.
"Yes, Master Pope," Renault said. "In fact, the two demons in question are in this region right now."
"... You're serious?" the Pope eyed him warily. "Renault, we're getting too old for practical jokes. After all, we're reaching our winter years."
"Of course I'm serious!" Renault exclaimed as he pulled a scroll from within his robes. "How else was I able to acquire this?"
Pulling open the yellowing scroll open, Bishop Renault revealed the truth to his superior. Pope Baldwin visibly turned paler.
(This... this...) the Pope's mind reeled. (This can't be the family tree of the Sunfire clan!) His eyes darted from the line traced upon by someone else's quill, possibly Renault's, from Leroy Sunfire all the way down to Mark Sunfire. Glancing at the marriages that happened along the way, the Pope was surprised to learn of several critical details.
"Where did you get this?" Pope Baldwin weakly said. Renault calmly removed the scroll from the elder's hands and placed it upon the desk, which he leaned against.
"While the Library of Records in this city is supposed to be the best in Etruria, I found the personal records of the Sunfire clan to be much more... detailed," Seizing his cloak and staff, Renault started to walk toward the door, intent on leaving.
"Wait..." Renault glanced over his shoulder to find his superior seething slightly with rage.
"Do you realize what might happen if word of your thievery of such an important document gets out?!" the Pope exclaimed as Renault rested a hand on the door. Turning fully around, Renault gave a dark glare in his superior's direction.
"Faith in the Church would disentigrate if word slips out. Who knows, I might be forced to expel you from the Order of Runeseekers and excommunicate you! Do you wish for me to do such a thing to a aspiring Cardinal?" Pope Baldwin continued as spittle flew from his mouth.
"As you have ordered me to do so before, Lord Pope," Renault said quietly as he tapped his fingers on his staff. "You had told me to do whatever it takes to find the vessels for Fear and Horror. Were those not your exact words, Master Pope?"
Pope Baldwin looked down mumbled to himself about such Machiavellian tactics. Renault gave a satisfied glance and opened the door. Before his cloak completely disappeared from the Pope's sight, Renault gave one last statement.
"The end justifies the means, Master Pope. The end justifies the means."
Fiora paced about her room, drinking from a Elixir vial that she found in the dresser next to the bed. Fiora had quickly found her clothes, which composed of her tan dress, blue boots that reaches halfway to her slim thighs, her black leather sword belt, and blue wrist-length gloves. She left the armor off as she did not want to tire herself too quickly. Also, wearing armor on the estate of a friend would seem more of an threat than a precaution.
As she slowly sipped the blue curative liquid, Fiora wondered how she had come to be in Etruria in the first place. Seasons had changed and so had the minds of the people of Elibe but she was confused.
(What was my original mission?) the Falcon Knight wondered as she set the almost empty elixir vial on the table. (I can faintly remember something about telling something but what?)
She then sat down on the bed, unsure of what to do next. Flopping back onto the unaccustomed softness of the large silk bed, Fiora closed her blue eyes.
In the little time she had known Mark, she barely even knew what his origins were. In the taverns she had spent some time in, she knew very little beyond his name, fame and skill in tactics. But some rumors have abounded that Mark was the vessel for the demon Fear. Fiora had heard legends of the vessel arising after the failed resurrection of the Dragons of the Scouring.
The legends told of a man with the essence of Fear stored away in him. Fear was passed down through the bloodline of the man's family, always hiding within a man, never a woman. If Fear were to awaken in some way or another, Fear would cause chaos on Elibe and proceed to usher in a reign of terror that would give Nergal a run for his gold.
But a little known legend told of another family having the essence of Horror, the brother of Fear stored away in their family. But rather having it passed through the men in their family, the essence of Horror would lurk within the blood of the women instead. But not much was mentioned in the legends about Horror other than his thirst for wanton destruction. It is said that Fear is the more intelligent of the two demons.
Another little unknown legend told of what would happen if the two vessels for Fear and Horror had met and fell in love. In the few theories that arose out of the legend, it was voiced that Fear and Horror would use their powers to bring forth their Master of Destruction. This master of theirs would not only destroy the sense of peace and order that was on Elibe for the last two years but it would also wipe out most of the human race.
Fiora did not want such a thing to happen. After working so hard to keep the warfare limited to the occasionally bandit raid, the time for her to take a rest from the killing business has got to stop. Even though she is still wing commander, she has handed over more of the responsibility over to her sub-commanders.
Peace is precious. That she had remembered after joining with her sister and the company she kept. Even though she had many terrible memories during the campaign, especially on the Dread Isle, she cherished the other memories with the group.
A slight tapping on the door shook her from her peaceful reverie. The door creaked open inward and Mark's apprentice poked his head in. He gave a quick look and stepped in with a covered platter and a wineskin.
"Miss Fiora," the apprentice said as he set his load on the table in the room. "Bishop Renault told me to prepare you some form of sustenance. I hope my cooking satisfies your tastes."
"Hm..." Fiora sat up on the bed, brushing the few strands of her hair from her face. "I suppose I do need something to eat." She slowly stood up and walked over to where the apprentice had pulled out a chair from the table.
As she sat down, Mark's apprentice walked around to the other side and lifted the lid off of the platter. There were four dishes of food, ranging from simple wheat bread with butter smeared on it to a particularly complex stew consisting of several meats and lots of vegetables, making it seem like a island floating in the middle of a reddish-orange ocean. Fiora picked up the spoon and proceeded to begin on the stew. Her eyes lit up as she experienced a nirvana of food in her mouth.
"This... this is excellent!" Fiora said after she swallowed the wonderful concoction. "Is the recipe yours, er, I'm sorry but I haven't quite heard your name?"
"I am Gavin Firewind, Apprentice Tactician to Mark Sunfire, Master Tactician. I'm sorry but the recipe isn't mine." Gavin then opened the wineskin. Pulling a wineglass to him, the Apprentice spoke as he poured the reddish-purple wine into the clear glass. "The recipe was something Master Mark taught me last month. Not as good as him but he says I'm getting better. I suppose it's one of those things a Tactician has to learn, I suppose."
Fiora couldn't help but agree. After eating plain rations and tavern food for the past month, this delightful meal of both Gavin's and Mark's. She tried to make herself eat at a rather sedate pace but with each bite, she had a harder time resisting the need to wolf down all this lovely food like a common barrack soldier. Soon, all that was left was just some crumbs of bread and the last dredges of the stew. Gavin refilled her wineglass for the last time before replacing all the utensils back into the covered platter.
"Tell me," Fiora queried as she sipped her wine slowly, her hunger happily satiated from the delightful meal. "What has your master been teaching you besides his cooking?"
"Well... keeping a log of travels, balancing budgets, keeping track of inventories, and generally keeping morale high among the ranks," Gavin recited as he ticked each point off on his fingers. "There's some basic weapon training he had been meaning to teach me but as of late..."
Gavin trailed off and stared listlessly at the floor. Fiora watched the apprentice and moved to nudge him out of his sudden stupor. Gavin snapped from his reverie upon her touch and hastily stood up and gathered the remnants of the meal. Bowing repeatedly before exiting, Fiora was left to further rest her still weary self.
Standing up, the Falcon Knight of Ilia went out onto the balcony. The crisp cold of air of an Etrurian winter was still lingering about even though the sun was barely even coming down from noon. Placing her hands on the snow covered balcony, Fiora closed her eyes and took a deep breathe. Exhaling slowly, a faint grin appeared.
"Such sweet air... only the mountain air is sweeter..."
Cursing and swearing at his weakness for falling into trance-like lapses where he becomes lost in his thoughts, Gavin set the last dry plate in the cabinet for storage. As he closed the panel, he heard several clicks of a boot on the tiles that made the floor.
"Is it ready?" a hoarse whisper asked as Gavin kept his back turned. "Is all according to our plan?" Gavin gave a dismissive snort and turned around.
A person stood several feet away, behind the counter, which still had a flagon of wine with several glasses on it. Black cloth wrapped the person from head to toe, leaving only slits for the eyes to see out of and the mouth for clear enunciation. The newcomer leaned against the counter and waited for Gavin to pour the wine. The apprentice tactician readily complied, pouring the crimson liquid into the two chalices.
"Did you expect to believe that I had easy pickings on this assignment? Look at me, I'm in the home of an actually intelligent person playing the part of a student! Have you any idea how hard it was for me to not excel in my studies?" A low and dark chuckle came from the unseen speaker.
"Clean your ears out, 'Gavin'. I bring word from the higher-ups concerning our operation. Did you slip the sedatives into the Pegasus Knight's wineglass?"
Gavin snorted derisively at being reminded to do something amazingly simple. "Bleh, even a blind and bungling archer couldn't have any trouble slipping that powder into her food! Why do you think they call me--"
"Shhh! Not here! Someone might be listening!"
"... you worry too much, Olrox."
The cloaked visitor flinched and nervously looked over his shoulder to the door that led to the Grand Dinner Hall. Apart from Gavin's chatter, nothing moved outside. Sharpening his hearing and tuning out Gavin, an ability that was very useful around the talkative fool, Olrox left half his attention upon what was outside of the kitchens.
"... and then, these two wackoes pop out of that woman's flesh, scaring that living daylights out of me! I swear why am I a Runeseeker, Olrox? This job is too damn dangerous!"
"... Gavin?"
"Yes, Olrox?"
"Shut up."
"... okay..."
They stood there, leaning against the counter and slowly making the flagon's contents disappear. Both seem to be capable of holding their liquor, until Gavin decided to open his mouth to continue talking.
"Bishop Renault wishes to know if he will succeed Pope Baldwin as the next Pope of the Church." Gavin said as he tried to pour more wine into his glass. His hand knocked over the near empty flagon, causing it to roll near the edge. Olrox moved quickly as if he wasn't under the influence and righted the flagon on the table.
"You dunderhead..." Olrox muttered as he poured himself some more of the wine. The last drops fell into his glass, which he quickly downed in case Gavin should steal what was his. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Gavin's head started to droop.
"The higher-ups want Bishop Renault to stay at his current position," Olrox said as he swilled his wine in his glass, observing the glow of the alcohol in the candlelight. "They say that he's not ready for Ascension to Papancy. While his record for involving himself in the Dragon's Gate debacle is rather interesting to look at, they still wish that Renault to further prove himself in more covert matters."
"Covert? He didn't even get his cover blown during that incident!"
"Then why did he reveal himself to Lady Isadora, Legault the Hurricane, and Bishop Lucius?"
"Er... Lady Isadora wanted some time for a Confession... Legault wanted to speak to him concerning something about a killer... and Bishop Lucius wanted to know about the disease of the heart?"
"... it's good that you paid attention to what Master Mark had to hear. Imagine, having the indecency of being a nosy fool while doing whatever a Tactician does."
A young lady that appeared no more than seventeen ran around the corner, weeping. Mark, being confused as to what strange world he had fallen into, didn't step out of the way quick enough. The young maiden collided into Mark, sending the Tactician head over heels. He landed on his back, staring at the strangely bright sky above him. Getting up to his knees, he was greeted by the wet and tear-sodden face of the maiden.
As the confused Tactician began to recover, he noticed that this young lady looked oddly familiar. She had blue hair, which was almost the same tone and shade as Fiora's. Her hair was also long and tied back into a ponytail with a white band that seemed as pure as white flames. Her dress, which was rather close fitting, was slightly marred with dirt and what seemed to be flecks of blood. A small scab on her arm had apparently broken open.
"Er... hello." Mark said as he brushed off the dirt from his clothes. Dirt? Isn't it winter...
"H-h-h-ello..." the maiden said between sniffles as she looked rather abashed. "Didn't mean to h-h-hit you..."
"Er..." Mark looked around the place where he had suddenly appeared. So far, everything looks like home. "Is this the town of Rithen?"
The maiden shook her head. "Rithen was the old name for this city. It is now the city of Dreizhen. Sixteen years ago, a force of unknown parameters emerged here, causing many of the folk to flee. My father and mother sacrificed themselves to destroy the monsters that emerged from the dark ritual that occurred. And now, I'm an orphan in the care of the local Church of Saint Elimine."
Mark couldn't help himself. "Pardon my asking... but who were your parents?"
"Sir Mark Sunfire and Lady Fiora Icewind."
Mark fell down onto his knees, felled and weakened by the sudden burst of this information. Feeling his child's hand upon his shoulder, he shakily asked: "Are you sure?"
She nodded her head but her face was suddenly worried.
"Are you alright, good sir?" Mark brushed her hands off of him, not wanting to feel the reality of it. She looked hurt and Mark began casting for a lie.
"I... just recently arrived from a distant land. I fear I might have a disease which you might not be immune against." Mark stuttered as he grasped the wall to his left and groped his way back up.
His child, gods bless her, didn't scream or shout about unknown diseases from unknown lands. Instead, she grabbed his right shoulder and slung his arm over her neck. Protesting, Mark tried to pull away. Amazingly, she didn't let go and applied pressure, forcing the Tactician to submit. She led him down the street, opposite of which she had come from. Mark contented himself by looking at the town that grew into a city, seeing old friends that have grown older and children that have matured.
They finally came to the entrance of a church. The maiden released Mark and opened the door with a heavy hand. The great doors swung open and she beckoned for him to follow. Passing through the aisles, Mark felt a slight giddiness. It was possible that he would see Fiora walk down the aisle in reality. They finally reached the wooden door that was situated to the right of the main court. The maiden made a fist and knocked several times. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door. She beckoned Mark to enter but he shook his head.
"Hm? What is it, Fiona?" a gentle but slightly tired voice asked from inside.
"I've brought a traveler here, Bishop Lucius."
BISHOP LUCIUS?! For the second time in less than an hour, Mark was stunned and on his knees. He felt his blood rushing into his legs and saw stars smashing before his eyes. Feeling the need to lie down, Mark struggled to move his body so that he would be lying down in the nearby pews. He nearly made it but two pairs of hands quickly hoisted him up and sat him in the wooden pews.
"Is this the traveler, Fiona?" an older and slightly graying Lucius asked as the former Monk looked into Mark's right eye for gods-know-what. Fiona nodded her head.
Mark hoped that Lucius wouldn't readily recognize him. In the twenty years that he had, as Fiona had told him, disappeared from existence, perhaps Lucius had forgotten who he was. Lucius gave a grunt and stood back, staring very hard at Mark. The Tactician fidgeted slightly, hoping that Lucius wouldn't outrightly recognize him.
"Well... I believe I might know you, stranger," Lucius finally said. The strange floating feeling in his stomach sank heavily. Mark felt his hands begin to fill up with sweat.
"Fiona, would you be kind enough to leave us?" Lucius softly asked the young lass. Fiona hesitated and nodded her head. Giving a small curtsy, she left the office. Mark exhaled a considerable amount of air and immediately relaxed in his seat.
"Well, well," Lucius said as he smiled. "What brings you into the future, Mark?" The Tactician sat upright and began to tell his tale.
"And now you're here in this supposed dream world of yours?" Lucius asked thoughtfully. "That is interesting... However, Fiona is not your only child."
"What? She's not my only child?" This surprised Mark. He had always speculated that Fiora would most likely bear a daughter, considering Ilians seem to favor girls over boys for rather obvious reasons.
"Yes, she's not your only child," Lucius repeated softly. "I know you don't know because you're supposed to be dead for sixteen years this winter. Fear and Horror, the demon servants of Shaher, rose and began their campaign of destruction. Both you and Fiora had a set of twins, a boy and a girl."
"Twins? Two children?"
"Yes, two children. Why so surprised, Mark?"
"Are they... still following our footsteps?"
"You mean your trades? Fiona has followed her mother's footsteps. But your son didn't become a Tactician like you."
"What?! Do you mean to tell me that the knowledge of tactics are now lost forever to the Sunfire clan? I'm the last of the Sunfires!"
"Calm down, Mark. Your son vowed to avenge both of your deaths and spent the past sixteen years training for battle."
"For battle?! He's nothing more than a military meathead who takes nothing but orders?! What is he now, a short order cook?!"
"No, he's an officer in the Etrurian army. A Dragoon to be precise."
"WHAT?! I'm gonna--"
"--with a heavy background in Tactics and Logistics."
"—hug him until he turns blue from lack of air!"
Farther north of Etruria, a young man walked gingerly across a frozen pond. Testing each step of the way with his Lance, the cloaked figure halted to a rest. Looking up at the cliffs with large pieces of ice sticking out at odd angles from the sides, the young man searched and searched along the ice ridges. He soon found a small opening and stepped into the space that was free from the chilling winds that were prevalent in the Northeast Turgin Mountains.
Pulling his cloak away from most of his body to allow more free movement, one could see that from his armor and badge of rank that this young man was a Dragoon. As the hood was pulled back, his slightly unkempt blue hair with pale green eyes could be barely spotted from the pure blue ice that surrounded him. He continued through the small opening in the mountain and he finally reached a small lake within the protective ridges. Nothing else could be heard apart from the crunching noise of his leather boots with steel reinforcement upon ice.
"If the legend is true..." the blue haired Dragoon murmured as he stopped before the frozen waterfall.
Pulling out a small crystal fragment from beneath his chain mail, the fragment began to pulse, shedding its light upon the wall of ice and the surrounding are that consisted nothing but of eternal winter. Giving a small shiver, the aqua haired Knight raised the fragment into the air.
"Fragment of the Sacred Spear, show me the way!" the Dragoon cried. The crystal fragment's glow halted for a moment. It slowly levitated into the air, just mere inches above the Knight's hand. Suddenly, a great pulse of light burst forth from the crystal fragment. The Dragoon felt the wave of light blast through him but no damage was done to either his body or mind.
The wave of light swept all over the frozen lake. As the seemingly innocent light passed through each large block of ice, the normal blue sheen changed to a orange-red color. The Dragoon looked back at the waterfall before him. His mouth dropped in amazement. The wall of ice slowly faded away like a ghost banished from the realm of the living. As it faded away, it revealed a large set of staircase that even rivaled the Tower of Light. The fragment dropped back into the Dragoon's outstretched hands. He then quickly pocketed the precious piece.
The Dragoon stood there for a moment, unsure to whether or not march forth without his comrades or wait. The Frozen Spear was in great need but he was unsure if it was wise to step forth into the darkness armed only with his
"I finally caught up with you, Kamui," a familiar voice called from behind the Dragoon. The blue haired youth quickly turned around and was relieved to see someone that he can trust.
"Cybil!" the young Dragoon cried as he stepped away from the staircase. He eagerly ran to the newcomer, skidding slightly on the frozen earth.
Having not seen Cybil in such a long time had made Kamui a bit worried. The fact that Cybil was an expert Sorceress didn't allay most of the young Dragoon's fears. In fact, the two of them had been friends ever since Kamui first shipwrecked onto the island of Solea, which Kamui had long thought, was a myth. Cybil herself was a member of an organization sponsored by the Pope known as the Order of the Runeseekers. The Sorceress told Kamui when they first met that the Order's mission was to ensure that the evil spirits that had awoken sixteen years ago were permanently gone or at least held in some dimension where they cannot escape. Kamui, having been separated from all known allies, agreed to help Cybil in return for a ship off of the island. Believing that by dividing their resources would bring their mission to a quicker end, they both eventually found a fragment that was rumored to be a piece of the Sacred Spear.
In the two months that they had agreed to part ways, Cybil seemed more tired than she did when they first met. Shiven, the Sorceress's servant and spy had told Kamui that Cybil was undergoing some stress and unrealistic demands from the higher-ups in the Order. Her battle fan, which she affectionately called the Caldia, was still in perfect condition. But her cold weather dress and cloak were another story. There were rips and tears in her cloak, causing the Dragoon to think that she had been attacked on her way here.
"Cybil? What happened to you? Where's Shiven and the others?" Kamui asked as his countenance became concerned. He immediately seized Cybil's right arm. The Sorceress gave a gasp of surprise and tried to break free from the Dragoon's grip.
Kamui lifted the part of the cloak that covered her arm. He was horrified and appalled at the scars and dried blood that covered what had once been the Sorceress's right arm, her stronger and spellcasting arm. Looking at her with his pale green eyes that matched wills with Cybil's own brown eyes, Kamui slowly pulled the cloak back onto her arm.
"What happened, Cybil?" Kamui softly asked as he let go of her arm. The Sorceress didn't reply and turned away. She busied herself with the cloak, trying to cover more and more of her arm up.
"I was... attacked... by the Undead Legion..." she finally said without turning back to him. "I found out what the name of the spear was. It's 'Longicolnis'. Deciphered from the language of the Ancients, it means 'Long Horn'--"
"Cybil, don't talk about the Sacred Spear," Kamui said as he roughly seized her by her body.
The Sorceress struggled to be free from his rough touch but didn't manage to get free. As Kamui visibly relaxed and began to carry her towards the small pass to the outside of the ridges, Cybil then slammed her right heel of her snow boots into the Dragoon's groin. He let go of her and sprawled onto all fours, gasping for air as the pain registered high on his pain scale. Cybil smoothed out her dress and continued as if nothing had happened.
"A black horn is more fitting than a beautiful halo for an fallen angel," she said as Kamui slowly got onto his knees, biting the top of his lip in order to steel back the pain. "He's an angel who's been stained black with sin, an angel that fell from heaven and was sealed here by God."
"That's... good..." Kamui said through gritted teeth. What happened to you, Cybil? I thought you trusted me... am I not your friend? And why are you obsessed about the Sacred Spear? I thought you had better goals in the Order of the Runeseekers to deal with...
"His name is Shaher. He is an archangel who fought for the humans in the Scouring." Cybil continued.
"The Scouring..." Kamui murmured.
"You've seen the light the fragment emits, right? That fragment is a missing piece of the Sacred Spear."
Suddenly, everything seemed to click in Kamui's mind. His comrade, Rictor, and his crew's desire to come to this frozen land. Lord Naris Batraal and his clan's desire to obtain the northlands from Lady Ivanna and her rebels. The Mage twins that were working for the Batraals and their researches that concerned the location of the Sacred Spear. Everything is fitting together.
"Shaher was manipulating Naris..." Kamui finally said as he slowly got up, brushing snow and ice from his armor and tunic. "So that he can be resurrected. We can't let that monster do as he pleases. He's forced the Mage twins twice already into forcing back Ivanna's soldiers from Castle Formida. Naris challenged me when I found the fragment in the crypts of his ancestors." He fell silent and looked at the Sorceress.
"Cybil, please help us. With you on our side—"
The Sorceress immediately lunged forward and punched through Kamui's armor into his left side. She quickly drew away from Kamui. In her hand was a small dagger with a very fine blade. Kamui was stunned and felt a bit dizzy. Taking another look at the dagger, he noticed very few flecks of blood were on it but a strange green ichor was hanging onto the rest of the blade. Falling onto one knee, the Dragoon gripped his side and felt a dull ache.
"Ah... Cybil..." Kamui gasped out as his vision began to swim. Cybil was gritting her teeth and dropped the dagger, as if the very act she just committed was completely against everything she had lived her life for.
"Why," the Dragoon asked weakly. The Sorceress did nothing but turn her back to him, her head drooping slightly as her body shook from fright. "Why, Cybil?"
Looking at his right hand, Kamui noticed a strange purple glow within him. Poison... why are you like this, Cybil? I helped you find the Fallen Angel's resting-place... you used me...
"... I'm sorry to betray you," Cybil simply said. "But I just can't trust you."
"Why?" Kamui repeated faintly. "... have you distrusted me from the beginning?"
The Sorceress took several tentative steps towards the seemingly endless staircase and looked into it. "Kamui," she said after a pause. "There's too much that's important to you. I can't trust someone like that. You'll sacrifice everything for your ideals."
The Dragoon felt a sudden burst of energy surge within him. Fighting to stand up, Kamui brushed away the weak feeling that poison usually gives him. "What gives you the right to denounce what I believe in, Sorceress?" Kamui demanded coldly.
"Do you understand?" Cybil said, ignoring Kamui's demand. "I can't go with you." She turned around, facing him. Taking the several steps back towards him, Cybil began to toy with the dagger in her hand. "Now, why don't you give me the spear fragment?"
"No, Cybil," said Kamui as he wavered slightly and swept his arm across his chest as if sweeping aside her demand. "I've worked too hard to get this far. There is no way you are going to take this from me. Even if you manage to get to Shaher's tomb, he'll force you to comply with his demands. You're more than just a friend to me, Cybil!"
"Don't worry," the Sorceress gave a lighthearted laugh and brushed her golden locks from her face. "I'll manage. And if you do give me the spear fragment, I'll give you the antidote for that poison of mine. It's very slow acting but it's relatively difficult to cure. And if I know you as well as you don't know me, you don't carry potions with you." She then resumed toying with her dagger.
"Forget about all this," she said in a different tone. "Go back to your hometown and start a new life with your loved one." As she said those words, a dark cloud emerged from the staircase and stopped next to the Sorceress. A mouth formed and a harsh but amused voice emanated from it.
"INDEED... HE CANNOT BE TRUSTED. HE HAS FORGOTTEN THAT YOU HAVE SAVED HIS LIFE," the odd cloud said. "HE REALIZES NOT THAT IT WAS YOU WHO MADE EVERYTHING POSSIBLE." Kamui noticed that Cybil didn't seem to resist the cloud's words. The Sorceress seemed unusually agreeable to the voice, one thing that Kamui learned about the Sorceress.
"AND BECAUSE OF HIS FRIEND'S INFLUENCE, HE HAS KEPT YOU AT ARM'S LENGTH," the cloud continued. It slowly took form, appearing as a head composed of dark fire.
"Who is that? Stop!" Kamui struggled to say in his fury. He took one step toward the fire cloud and lunged at it with his bare hands. He passed right through it without even getting burned. "That's not true!"
"YOU KNEW FROM THE BEGINNING THAT RICTOR DISTRUSTED THIS WOMAN AND NOW YOU HAVE STARTED TO DOUBT HER TOO," the demonic voice said with a bit of glee hidden. "YOU NEVER EXPECTED MUCH OUT OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HER."
"That's a lie!" Kamui snarled as he fought against the poison that was running rampant in his veins. "Cybil, you must not listen to him! I had no choice but to save Rictor! He was my only friend!"
"Really?" Cybil asked warily with a raised eyebrow to Kamui. "Then does that mean I am not your friend?"
"No! I didn't mean it that way!"
"THAT IS WHY YOU SAVED YOUR OLD FRIEND," Shaher's voice cut right through Kamui's protests. "YOU LISTENED TO HIM AND EARNED HIS TRUST, WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO PUT YOUR FAITH IN HIM RATHER THAN IN HER."
"You're wrong!" Kamui protested as he slowly fell onto one knee, tired from fighting both the poison and Shaher's false words. "That's not..."
"WOMAN, YOU ARE NO FOOL. YOU SEE HOW IT IS, RIGHT?" Shaher continued, his flame head facing the silent Cybil. "A LOVED ONE THAT HE PROTECTS, A FRIENDSHIP THAT HAS ENDURED MANY HARDSHIPS, AND COMRADES THAT HAVE FOUGHT AT HIS SIDE. WHAT MORE DOES HE NEED? YOU ARE OF NO USE TO HIM."
Cybil's eyes became glassy. She wavered slightly as both the projection of Shaher and a severely poisoned Kamui looked on.
"I..." Cybil said softly as she looked sadly onto Kamui. She quickly snapped her gaze and changed it to that of cold fury.
"What have I done to you, Cybil? Is there something that you're trying to tell me? Is it because I'm in love with Eleanor?" Kamui weakly said as his other knee met the frozen earth.
"POOR WOMAN," Shaher's voice said in a supposed soft and caring tone. "I WILL GRANT YOUR WISH IN EXCHANGE FOR THE EMPTINESS IN YOUR HEART."
What?! Is the thrice-damned demon going to possess her? Cybil... you must not give in!
"YOU AND I WILL BRING CHAOS AND DESTRUCTION TO THIS WORLD," Shaher continued. "WOMAN, WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WISH FOR?"
Cybil slowly turned toward the flame cloud. Kamui shut his eyes as he waited for the inevitable.
"My life is in your hands..." the Sorceress said in a blank tone. "I want him dead."
The flame cloud swirled and separated into seven other similar sized clouds. They scattered and began to surround Kamui from all sides. As each cloud neared, Kamui saw the cloud flame of Shaher giving out a harsh laugh.
"VERY WELL, WOMAN. YOUR WISH WILL BE GRANTED."
One cloud was close to touching his cheek with one of its many tendrils of flames, ready to give more and more pain to his body. Another was behind him, its own tongues of flame ready to burn. Kamui blinked and began to pray for Cybil's soul.
She's selling it to Shaher... how did it come to this? Kamui fell onto his face, drained from the battle of wills and against the poison.
"Nooooo!" a familiar feminine voice called from farther away. Kamui looked up and saw the dark flame encircling Cybil. No, it couldn't be...
"Kamui!!!" a woman's voice that was different than Cybil's cried. Footsteps were heard as ice was crunched underneath. Kamui felt a pair of a woman's hands support his wilting body.
"E... Eleanor?" Kamui asked weakly as he allowed himself to be supported.
"Don't interfere," Cybil's mouth said. Her voice was hollow. "There's nothing you can do."
Already possessed? No... how am I going to save her?
"But why, Cybil?" Kamui croaked. "I..."
"Kamui... if you die here, you'll be mine forever." Cybil turned away from Kamui and Eleanor, who was trying as hard as she could to get them both out of the entrance to Shaher's Tomb. The Sorceress opened her arms in welcome to the flame cloud, which immediately summoned back all of its other subordinate flame clouds. "Shaher, I welcome you to my empty heart!"
"Nooooo!" Kamui feebly cried as Eleanor began to cast spells to protect themselves. The flame clouds swirled around Cybil, engulfing the Sorceress. A pure white light cascaded upon Kamui and Eleanor and a shimmering magic barrier appeared around the two. Immediately, Kamui felt the effects of the poison leave his body. Looking down at the wound at his side, he was surprised to find that there was no longer a gash in his side.
"Eleanor... thank you," Kamui said as he gently shrugged Eleanor's support.
"But you're still injured, Kamui! You can't fight right now!" the spellcaster reprimanded. "You're not going to fight until I say so, Kamui!"
"But she's our friend! We never let our friends down, even when they've gone bad!"
"Kamui Mark Sunfire! When will you ever learn to follow a woman's orders?"
"When I'm married and living off of my family's estate!"