Follow the Moon Chapter 3, a suikoden fanfic

He's never been far from my thoughts, these past few years. I knew getting away from the garden would only be the first of many escapes. Someone would have to finish the elders' work, and he's the only one with a hope of killing me.

I have never been chased like this before. I was raised to be a predator. And while there's something thrilling in the danger, and soothing in knowing how it will end, I can't say I face this with much pleasure. Every step is a reminder of what happened, a new anger. A new regret. Every new escape reminds me that this is how it shouldn't be.

Is he willing to kill without hearing a word of my explanation? Is it worth it to me to give it?

He'll never give up the chase, no matter where I take him. I suppose I'll never be entirely alone.

So there's a certain satisfaction in prolonging it.

It was a cold morning and I was all for sleeping in. Unsure what had woken me, I glanced around the gray-hazy room, then pressed closer to Clive, watching his eyelashes flutter but not part. After a moment, I dropped my own eyes closed again.

Then heard the step at my door and the quiet scrape against the floorboards.

Opened my eyes, listened, and barely caught the sound of someone moving down the hall. Lifted myself on one elbow. The light was bad, but I could just make out the edge of white paper under my door.

I got out of bed without waking Clive and, shivering, picked up the note, moving to the vague light from my window.

You are required in the Deep Hall.

Deep Hall is the lowest chamber in the garden, reserved only for private negotiations among the elders and the Guild Master. I had no idea what went on down there, or why I might be wanted.

My thoughts shifted back to the touch of a rifle on my shoulder and cheek, the easy pull of a trigger.

I looked past the note to Clive. Opened my mouth to say his name. Glanced down at the note again. Deep Hall. Could I afford to ignore the summons? And if this cold shiver under my skin was a warning, could I outfight the elders? No, and no. Then – if I was in danger, could I afford to risk Clive?

He was turned away from me, and I studied the familiar line of his shoulder, the half-hidden jaw and cheek. My heart sank, very softly. No. Absolutely not.

Deep Hall is the elders' sanctum, but it also belongs to the Guild Master. On that thought, I ripped up the note and dropped it into the dim coals in my shallow fireplace, covering the shreds over. Furthermore, I told myself as I dressed, the Howling Voice would not take all the time to train a Knight Gunner, take such pride in her, to – to what? Deep Hall is the elders' private suite, not the Blood Rooms or the execution range. It's not even an oubliette, though it's lower than any of those.

Because I was being allowed admittance to such a sacred area, I knew better than to appear in anything but full dress. I strapped on my pistol, then dragged on my long white cloak. With that, there was no reason to shiver and no reason to delay.

Halfway out the door, I looked back. Clive had turned over, profile outlined against the pillow. What would he think, if he knew where I was going?

He would tell me to go. But he would be second-guessing it too.

I stepped through and shut the door.

Cathari met me at the top of the stairs that led down to the garden's lower levels. She too wore her cloak, the brown hood pulled down, her mouth set in a severe line. She didn't speak or nod when I approached, just turned and started walking, lifting a wall lantern. Doorways passed. It was colder farther down, but neither suffocatingly close nor obviously darker. The stones were dry and well-maintained.

We came to the bottom and Cathari unlocked the door, preceded me through, waited to lock it again behind us. There were guards on the inside, two older gunners I couldn't remember seeing before. Cathari led me down a long, bare hallway cut from a warm-looking stone, past several more doorways. We went right to the end, where two more unfamiliar guards awaited us. Cathari bowed to the doors before opening them but didn't look back to see if I followed suit. I instantly heard talking where before there was perfect silence – the room beyond was soundproofed.

It was a long, empty chamber with no further doors leading off from it. A small crowd inside, some standing at attention, others pacing, several arguing. I counted them off – all the elders. At the far end, leaning against the wall, arms crossed on his chest, was Kelley, the hood of his green cloak on his shoulders. He noticed me at the same moment, his eyebrows coming together. Pushing himself off the wall, he spoke in a loud voice. "All right, clear out. I'll talk to you all when it's over."

"Guild Master," Dareb said, "there should be a witness to the proceedings –"

"Storm will be witness enough." He wasn't wearing the rifle, rather had it slanted against the wall. "Leave us."

Master Sauro stared intently at Kelley, something uncertain in his face. "You understand what must be done?"

"This is not for the elders' eyes," Kelley said. "It only concerns the Guild Master."

"As you say," said Dareb.

I stood still as the elders filed past me, waiting until the door was shut before I spoke. "Do you speak that way with them often?" I doubted it. With the elders gone, I scanned the room again, seeing if there was anything I might have missed in the crowd.

There was a table with a wooden, silver-laced case across it.

"Why am I here?"

Kelley was walking towards the table. When he neither stopped nor looked at me, I realized I'd been hoping he would. Instead he spoke as he freed a series of locks, worked the case's clasps. "You're here because I can't pull Storm's trigger."

"What?"

"I never have." He lifted the lid. "The elders chose me as Guild Master, but when I tried to take up Storm, it rejected me. I can't lead the Guild while Storm wants a different master."

"Kelley –"

"And the only solution –" he eased something free of the case " – is to prove my superiority over Storm's chosen master." He turned, a pistol in each hand.

"Kelley. Are you insane?"

I didn't know if it would work or not – I supposed it wouldn't – but I asked him to let me go. Just walk away, and let me vanish back into the past. After so much running and so many traps, it was a relief to speak gently. Standing there in Radat's tavern, I reminded him what we'd been to each other. More than friends. Family.

His face broke. But whatever else crossed his features, he answered with anger. Maybe speaking of the past was unfair of me, but when was the last time I was fair? We've come too far to spare feelings. I have outstripped the Guild, and he clings to it to keep his balance, and once I'm dead, maybe he'll find his purpose again. But if we are both gunners, we should meet this with the clinical detachment of our craft.

But he told me we are not two gunners. I am only a criminal.

I smiled, just to be sure I didn't speak, not yet, and not simply to see the fury in his eyes again. After all these years, after all I've been through, I am not every inch the gunner you are?

He lifted Storm, I lifted Star and Moon. Storm wouldn't let him fire. It would have been simple enough to aim for his torso and, in a gunners' duel, only the coward dodges. It would have been the easiest kill.

But I aimed for his shoulder and his leg, pulled each trigger. After all, he's made such a good effort.

Kelley hesitated after my question, gathering himself. "We're going to duel, Elza. Take Star."

"Kelley, I don't want to be Guild Master. Why the hell are we fighting?"

"Because Storm wants you. It can't accept me while you're alive."

I fought back my incredulity and anger, hunting for the truth. "Are you drugged? Did the elders give you something?"

He was walking towards me, the pistols still in his hands, not cocked to fire. "Elza, this is my decision. Take Star."

"You're going to kill me? Kelley, I'm Elza, damn you. I'm your best friend. I'd die before I hurt you!"

He smiled, briefly. "What about your pride as a gunner? No friend of mine would let herself be cut down."

"She will before she kills you."

Any faint pleasure – or pride? – left Kelley's eyes. "Clive's a Knight Gunner too. It may be that Storm won't accept me even when you're dead." He swallowed. "I'll have to see about Clive."

On instinct, I was reaching for Star. But I jerked my hand back. I could feel myself shaking, anger and denial and a rising, careening fear. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer, his jaw tight.

Anything would have been better. I pushed my hand out, palm up, and he dropped Star into it, walked away before I'd even closed my fingers. Already he was waiting at the far end of the room. His voice didn't falter as he began the duelists' invocation, calling upon the shadow.

He always did heal nicely. And if I know him well enough to bank on that, he should already know why I didn't shoot to kill.

On the rough, windy height of Jowston Hill, he told me Kelley and the Guild were all that ever mattered to him, that now he only had the Guild. With my back to him and Storm, it was easy to hide what I felt. I'd never wanted to think that my actions had tainted every memory of me, but I suppose I should have faced that a long time ago. After one moment, everything we'd been no longer matters.

Kelley's gone, and my only link to the Guild are these guns and this death sentence. And now, these shared memories are no longer mine. What then? What have I ever had?

What do I have left?

The Howling Voice Guild has brought nothing good, and if I can escape it, why can't he? Perhaps I did stop something, the day Kelley and I dueled. Perhaps I halted a worse, darker descent. For both of them.

If I couldn't convince him, I could still command Storm, and one word ended any hope for a duel. At least that day.

There is one other thing I had and lost. I want to see it again before I die.

The invocations numbed me even as they set my heart beating harder, a quickening countdown to the moment I pulled the trigger, the bullet exploding, the pistol hardly recoiling against the heel of my hand. I never thought to dodge, my eyes fixed forward.

My bullet hit Kelley in the stomach, blood spraying across his cloak. He staggered. I glanced down at myself, knowing it was there, even if I hadn't felt it. My wound.

But in all the white folds of my cloak, there wasn't a drop of red.

I stared at Kelley. And ran for him.

There is nothing familiar in Sajah, not a glimmer of recognition. I can't guess which street my family lived on, and when I search through the graveyard, I don't see their names. I don't know what I'd meant to do, had I found them still living.

Still, there's a certain peace, walking these streets that belong to me, even if we no longer know each other.

I caught Kelley against my chest. He spat blood across me, and I tried to hold him steady. "Kelley –" I didn't recognize my voice, high and rough. "– why – what's –"

Kelley leaned heavily against me, and there was something cold in my hand – Moon, the other pistol, he pressed my fingers around it. "I – called off the guards. You need to run."

"This is the elders' fault – they told you to – Kelley, look at me! Kelley, please!"

He smiled, blood in his teeth. "Never – mind the elders. It's my fault." He swallowed. "I couldn't hurt you."

He didn't even fire? "I don't want to hear this, I want you to get up! Please, just try –"

He shook his head, closed his eyes, his temple resting against my collar bone. All he could say then was that he'd loved me and Clive. All that and he was dead. When he went still, I pulled him closer, as if that would make him wake up and squirm away, but he only resettled, unresisting. My pulse felt like it was beating through my bones.

The elders would come soon, and no one could outfight all those guns. I grabbed Star. The guards were gone – gone from the dueling chamber, gone from the bottom of the stairs. I ran into the main compound and in a distant way saw some others were training, glancing at me as I passed. And my cloak was streaked red now, and someone shouted, and I cocked Star. The Guild Master was dead and no mercy would be shown to his murderer.

There were no guards at the front gates. There were no guards at the western checkpoint.

And when I stumbled to a halt the night, in the forest, with blood pouring down my cheeks from the senseless swipe of a bramble, I found no bullets inside of Moon.

For the first time in a long time, my smile is real. It's the way he sets Storm's butt against the ground and just lets the sacred rifle drop, letting the dust rise in Sajah's hot street. And he doesn't even flinch, doesn't look for a moment like he doesn't trust my sense of fair play as I walk towards him with two pistols in hand. You poor boy. You do so beautifully in your own world of laws and bullets, but you've never understood any of this.

Never mind. Pick your weapon.

He chooses Star. Predictable. I step back, running my thumb along the curve of Moon's grip, the opal handle catching the flares of the sun.

There is no talk of executioners and criminals. For the last time, we're equals. I begin the gunner's invocation.

When I was seventeen, I came back from one of my first long solo missions, three months in Grassland, and found out that Clive had been seen lingering around the western checkpoint for the past week. I could only hope he was on the lookout, waiting for my return – I convinced myself that as his best friend, I was entitled to some separation anxiety on his part. Still, I had to know for sure, so I hunted him down, an easy smile on my mouth and my heart hammering light and quick against my breastbone.

"I was checking the west fence for signs of damage," was how he explained it, averting his eyes.

"You terrible liar. I was missed. Imagine that. What, didn't Kelley keep you company?"

He shrugged. "It wasn't the same."

I stared at him. Then took him by the shoulders, which surprised him, but he didn't pull away, and now he had to look at me.

I'd expected to continue on a smiling superiority. And while I kept the smile, the softness in my voice surprised me. "Well. That's good news." And I leaned up, for a moment breathing on his skin, giving him every chance to say what the hell, I wasn't hoping for this.

But apparently he was.

I am watching you now, through the invocations, each line, each motion as we cock Moon and Star perfectly measured. Your eyes are narrowed, hand steady. My heart is pounding again, harder than ever, and I have to speak, to throw you off, or to speak the truth, or to prolong this one more moment. The last line of the invocation. The last breath before we fire. I shout your name. You tell me – you – the both of us not to hesitate.

Clive was the last to pass through the Blood Rooms. Kelley first, then me, then six hours with the two of us waiting in the hall outside, thinking about our aching, still-running wounds, not our worry. We hadn't celebrated, even though both of us were now Knight Gunners, the highest rank below Guild Master and elder. We couldn't feel triumphant until Clive came through in one piece.

It was near midnight when the door cranked open and Cathari stepped out, a bit of shock, a great deal of approval on her face. And Clive was at her heels. He had a bad wound across his forehead, and he was holding his left arm awkwardly. The three of us were about brainwashed with relief, and we stumbled into each others' arms. Cathari said nothing, which was good of her. We were by no means the only friends to be found within the Guild, but such unreasoned displays of affection were never permitted outside of closed doors. But for the time being, Cathari left us to ourselves.

We couldn't really say much – Kelley swore, and Clive laughed raggedly, and I smiled, really meaning it, and kissed them both I don't know how many times. Mainly I remember how hard we held on to each other, resting our foreheads together.

You stand far from me, a perfect gunner, and let me have my say, because anything else would be an act of cowardice. Your eyes are hard. I can feel Star's bullet in me every time I breathe.

You don't move, don't seem to hear a thing when I tell you Moon wasn't loaded. Perhaps you've had your fill of my tricks.

But you oblige me when I ask to hold Storm. If it's ruined my life, it's time I held it as my own. The rifle settles across me, and you even take the sight of that, me with Kelley's weapon, your weapon, stoically. You've passed it to me without touching, and you step back. I can feel my wound bleeding down my skin, soaking the top of my white Guild cloak. It eases the burden from my heart.

And when I tell you the truth, the truth about Kelley's death, your eyes widen. But it's when I thank you for this, for rebalancing the scales between Kelley and me, for returning me to Sajah, that I can see it: your stance shifts, your breathing catches. You are going to falter.

No. I've already taken too much from you. I laugh. I fire Moon into the air. There. You see? There's no tragedy. It's just lies.

Poor boy. Now you don't know what to believe, and while I'm telling you to take Storm, and go home, and be happy in your place within the Guild, you are knees to the dirt, shouting my name. Your hands are on either side of my face. You and your dark cloak are blotting out my last sight of the sun.

That's all right.

Author's note: And that's the end. As a last note, Elza's behavior in the final scene of Clive's quest is confusing at best, and fans have different theories about why she lies to him. Credit goes to YouTube commenter P0ko4Sh0 for suggesting she does it so Clive won't be so resentful that he can't return to the Guild. That's not precisely the motive I'm working with here, but it was my starting point.