Chapter 18: Kassa
27th Archer, 704 A.S.
Everything will be coming to a head, soon. Kain and the Berserk should be heading to the Ebrakhm Mines, where Kassa will be waiting for them. Everything is set up perfectly. The spells I've given her and the monks assigned to her command should be able to trap the Armor and contain its power—killing Kain in the process, of course. She's an excellent servant—I was quite surprised that a Dark magic user would take to Light spells so easily, but knowing her sister, I suppose it was foolish of me to be surprised.
The Starlight spell can only be cast by women and isn't proper for use in battle, most of the time. It was designed to undo extremely powerful curses, and as such, cannot effectively harm humans or other living things. However, the Armor of the Berserk is not a living thing, but a cursed artifact. The modifications I made to the spell should imprison it within a field of impenetrable radiant magic, rendering it unable to leave the boundaries of the holy sigil. Without any means of escape, it will drain all life from its host and then recede back into dormancy, where it can once again be delivered to my Church and stay safe in my hands.
Still, it requires absolute concentration on the part of the caster, and to avoid any risks I've given Kassa an extra dozen of my most skilled Light magic users and exorcists, but if what happened to Oldnar is any indication, it may not be enough. Perhaps that is why I can't get to sleep. Because if this fails, our only hope will be Athos and the Pinnacle of Light.
"Gosterro."
"Eh?"
The Archbishop turned away from his journal and looked behind him. Hidden in the darkness beyond the small field of light generated by his room's single candle, Rhia called out to him. She was still lying on his bed, where he'd left her after they'd finished with the night's festivities.
"Come here."
He grunted. "Still want more? You certainly enjoy your job, woman. At least the less important part of it."
She didn't take his bait, and just yawned. "No, I meant come to bed. You need sleep, Your Excellency."
"How do you expect me to sleep? The fate of all Elibe—not to mention my own—is resting on her shoulders, and the Armor of the Berserk could show up at any time. How can I sleep now?"
"We don't know when Kain will strike. It might be tonight, it might be tomorrow, or in a week, or in a month. What will happen if he strikes at this very moment? Kassa will face him, and she'll succeed—I know she will. She's not the sort to fail."
"I find your faith in her more cute than convincing, Rhia."
Rhia just grinned. "You don't know her as well as I do. In any case, you won't be able to do a thing from here. Regardless of whether tragedy or triumph awaits you tomorrow, it makes sense to face it well-rested."
"Tch." Truth be told, Gosterro was tired—too tired to argue. "As you will." He blew out his candle, stood up, preparing to join his lover—and then stopped.
"What is it, Your Excellency?"
"Rhia, did you hear something?"
She yawned again. "It's just your imagination. You're obviously very stressed, master. Kain is far away in the Western Isles. There's no way he would go after us rather than Kassa."
"Still, I thought I heard something from the lower floors."
"An infiltrator? Who could get past all the traps and magics all throughout this tower? If it is an interloper—from whence, who knows—we can dispose of his corpse in the morning."
"…True enough."
With a sigh, the Archbishop went back to his bed and his lover.
His sleep, however, would not go undisturbed.
-X-The Third Man-X-
"Levin—I mean, Athos, where are we? I thought the Berserk was at the Ebrakhm mines, but from the looks of it, we're right outside Jutes!"
Khyron looked around, waiting for an explanation. Athos had teleported both of them to the entrance of a small, nondescript cave some distance away from the capitol of the Western Isles.
"Indeed we are. But remember I also said we needed one more weapon." The Archsage motioned towards the Forblaze, which Khyron was holding, and the Aureola tome, which he had picked up just after the meeting with Bramimond. Khyron hadn't even been allowed to look around the magnificent Tower of the Saint in which it was held before Athos teleported them here.
"The Armads, wasn't it? Is this where it was held?"
"Yes. And I've already told the man who is to wield it how to find it."
As if on cue, someone emerged from the cave entrance. Khyron took a step back in surprise when he saw that he recognized the third member of his team.
"Blast it, a buncha ghosts had no business bein' that tough!" Goldeye roared as he stomped out into the dim light of morning. "And what's with all that crazy smoke pourin' from the walls! Didn't mention anything' bout that!"
"Forgive the omission, but I was confident you'd be able to handle it," chuckled Athos. "It was a test of your abilities, after all. And it seems like you've passed."
"Aye, that I have!" Goldeye laughed, and he unlimbered his massive weapon from his shoulders, allowing Khyron a good look at it. It definitely wasn't the greataxe he'd had on his ship. This weapon was much bigger, and his original axe had been huge! Almost as large as he was, the Armads was a gargantuan single-bladed axe that crackled with magical energy—literally. Khyron's hair stood up and he could smell ozone, as if there was a thunderstorm coming in (despite the skies being entirely clear). The source was the Armads itself. Little sparks of electricity jumped and danced around its head, occasionally zapping the ground and leaving scorch marks behind. None of them touched Goldeye's body, indicating the holy weapon had accepted him as its wielder.
"Goldeye? What are you doing here?" Khyron could see the pirate lord being worthy of the Armads, but he had no idea how the man had figured out where the Armads rested.
Goldeye shrugged. "Well, 'tis an odd story. Afore he left along with ye t' negotiate with Bern, Bardy over there told me that some kinda catastrophe was headin' for me Isles, and that th' only way to stop it lay in a cave near here. I didn't pay it much heed afirst as I was busy searchin' for some treasure on Dia, but then people 'round here started disappearin'. And then just last night, there was a big hue and cry o'er at Castle Ebrakhm! I figgerd somethin' was up, so I visited this little cave and managed t' find me a mighty fine weapon!"
"Bardy?" Khyron looked at Athos suspiciously. "You didn't tell him your true identity?"
"Tell me what? That th' landlubber's some kinda magic-man? Pfft, anyone coulda figured that out from th' way he sang. And 'twasn't a surprise his name's actually Athos, either. What, ye think me mother calls me Goldeye?"
That was true enough, Khyron had to admit. But Goldeye still had some more questions, however. "I don't think ye've told me everythin', Bard—or Archsage, whatever ye may be. I'm willin' t' fight t' defend this land, but I'd like t' know what I'm fightin'. That's something ye've never been too clear on. So how 'bout startin' now?"
"Very well," Athos sighed. "You have a right to know—both of you.
"Everyone on Elibe knows the story of the Scouring—how man was driven to the brink of extinction before finally besting the Dragons with the power of the Eight Heroes and their eight Divine Weapons. However, neither men nor dragons were the first sentient beings to walk upon the face of this world. There was something before both of them…
"Not even I know what, exactly, they were. The only traces of their existence are contained within the fell tomes of Dark magicians, penned in a strange language few beyond that dark brotherhood understand. But whatever they were, they possessed an uncontrollable malice towards those who succeeded them. I can only conclude they were driven from Elibe, much like man drove Dragon away, but before they abandoned this land they left something behind.
"It was a terrible artifact, intended to take revenge upon the men of Elibe in an ironic fashion. It was a suit of armor that fed on the hatred and anger of its wearer. It would multiply their power by many times, and would thus be able to grant them any wish—so long as that wish revolved around death and destruction. But it came at a price. It would drain the wearer of all life as long as it was used, unless they possessed strength and willpower far beyond that of an ordinary man's. And there was another price, one that none of its wearers realized.
"It grew in power with each life it took. It stoked the bloodlust of whoever wore it, so they would kill, and kill, and kill, allowing it to grow continuously in strength. And when it gathered all the power it could…it would spell the end of this world. Though it required the strength of many thousands of lives, if the Armor ever grew strong enough it would tear asunder the barriers between worlds. It would turn into a…vortex, of sorts, similar to a maelstrom I'm sure Goldeye is familiar with. A swirling maelstrom of chaos rather than water, guarded by a Beast of terrible power that would destroy anyone who tried to close it—the artifact's true form. This maelstrom would suck everything on this continent into it, utterly destroying anything it caught. And it would grow and grow, until there was nothing left…"
"The Armor of the Berserk," Khyron breathed.
"Yes. Whoever used it against you in the last war had no idea of what they were truly playing with."
"But where did it come from? How did it end up with a Red Shoulder?"
"The Armor itself has a terrible history among men. The first person to wear it was…Durbans."
"Durbans?! The Hero of the Western Isles?!"
"Yes. He came across it as a young man, when the Dragons had begun to produce War Dragons of their own to counter the weapons of humanity. They had ravaged most of the Isles, but Durbans wouldn't give up. He lived for battle, more than anything else. And the Armor…I suppose it called out to him. He found it where its creators had hidden it for centuries, under Mount Ebrakhm. And with its power, he almost turned the tide of the war on the Isles. He slaughtered Dragon after Dragon without stop, allowing the Armor to drink more and more…
"But all that changed when he received a…summons. Over the objections of his Armor, he journeyed far away, to the end of the world, where he met seven other men and women who'd heard the same summons."
"You and the rest of the Eight Heroes."
"Yes. We were offered mighty weapons, regalia with the power to turn the tide of the war. But each of us had to give something up. For Durbans…it was his armor. The divine power which suffused our weapons was absolutely anathema to the Berserk. It raged and screamed at him, telling him that he didn't need the Armads, that the two of them alone could destroy the Dragons. But Durbans…he realized what it intended to do. And he was first and foremost a warrior, not a killer. He loved the thrill of battle above all, and realized there would never be a battle ever again if the Berserk destroyed the world as it intended. So, in a struggle of wills lasting seven days and nights, he cast the terrible armor from his body, took up Durbans, and helped the rest of us save humanity.
"But the Armor was not destroyed. It sent itself into hiding, waiting to be found again. One of your enemies must have found it in the last war. After you defeated them, it must have returned to hiding, and then called out to Kain, for it knew the Last Red Shoulder's desire for revenge would suit its purposes well. And it has used him to collect the last sacrifices it requires to draw out its full power."
Khyron frowned, still digesting this dire story, but Goldeye just whistled. "Ye've got a knack fer tellin' stories, me hearty. Methinks ye oughta stayed as a bard! But I guess, if we're ta finish things with this Armor, we'll need these weapons ye've brought, aye?"
Athos nodded. "Nothing less will suffice to stop the creature. And as I told Khyron, any more would only serve to bring it more souls it could absorb. A small team of three is best."
"Alright then. Let's get to it!"
-X-
"You must make a choice, child of war."
The man wearing the Berserk said nothing, even as the armor he wore shouted and screamed at him to leave this place.
"All who would wield the Divine Regalia must make sacrifices. Are you strong enough to fight and triumph without that cursed armor of yours? Prove to be, and the power of the Armads will be yours."
Don't do it, screamed the Armor of the Berserk. You and I, we were meant to create a world of death!
"A world of death is a world without war," said the Armor's wearer to himself. And with no further hesitation, he stepped towards the light…
"Agh!"
Kain almost jumped up from the floor on which he slept. He looked around himself, and saw nothing but the darkness of the copse of trees outside the entrance to the Ebrakhm mines. He shuddered, wishing his sleep could be more peaceful, then reached to his chest and ejected his personal journal and quill, preparing to do the only thing that gave him any solace, now: Write.
27th Archer, 704 A.S.
This will be the last entry in my journal. The last thing I ever write.
Both Zedal and Oldnar are dead. All that's left is Kassa. Oldnar told me she'd be waiting for me at the Ebrakhm Mountain mines.
There, I'll find the truth from her. And that's the last thing I'll ever need to do.
Kain placed his journal and pen—his most valuable possessions and the only ones he had—close to his chest and felt them being absorbed into his armor with a quiet sucking noise. They'd be safe, there, as safe as anywhere in the world. The only way anyone would ever get to them was if the Armor of the Berserk was taken away from him, and by that point he'd be dead anyways. He raised his left hand before his face and watched the wound on it seal up. Writing with his own blood—or perhaps it was something produced by the Armor, given its black color) struck him as more than a little melodramatic, but he hadn't brought his inkpot with him. And he didn't want to go crazy just before he had a chance to confront Kassa. His little writing exercises were just enough to keep him sane.
Well now, all done?
Kain stood up, taking a good look at his surroundings. He had been writing his entry in a small copse of trees a small distance from the main entrance to the Ebrakhm mines. There'd been no need to travel through the tunnels, the Berserk had brought him here quickly enough, after absorbing Oldnar. He then began to run up to the mineshaft that led down below.
He needed no torch in the pitch-black tunnels. With the Armor of the Berserk, he could see in the dark as well as if it were day. And he could sense his quarry. The Armor enhanced his sense of smell as well as his sight, and there was a familiar scent wafting up to him from the depths. Kassa had not worn perfume often, but before they'd left for the Western Isles, there had been a great celebration in Nerinheit City. She'd dressed up for the occasion and even put on a distinctive perfume that smelled of jasmine. Kain detected that scent from deeper within the mines.
Why would she bother with such a thing? To lure him into a trap, he surmised. He'd take the bait, but also give her more than a few surprises.
Kain keeled over, and as before, human shapes sprouted from his back. This time, however, there were two of them. One was a Wyvern-winged shadow of Zedal, as he'd summoned last night. The other, however, was clad in a robe of darkness rather than wings. The shape of its pitch-black face gave away its identity: It was a doppleganger of Oldnar.
The two creatures both shifted and divided, and after a few moments Kain had a small squadron of puppets waiting for his command.
With them at his back, he pushed down, towards the source of that smell. He twisted left and right, then slowed down as he came to a larger tunnel. There was light glowing faintly there. As he neared, he saw it was a torch—held in the hand of a woman with long black hair, her back turned to him.
Be careful, Kain, the armor pleaded inside his head, something's afoot!
"Kassa," he hissed. He took a step forwards, not caring that she was alone (very suspicious), too consumed by his own emotions, despite the Armor screaming at him for caution. His shadowy comrades followed him, refraining from tearing the woman apart only by the will of their master.
"Kassa," he hissed again, and this time the woman turned towards his voice.
She was carrying a tome. A strange tome of Light magic that Kain had never seen before. How had she learned to use Light magic? Kain reprimanded himself, noting that if Oldnar had managed to gain enough mastery of it in a matter of months to pose as a Bishop, she'd be able to as well.
That distraction nearly killed him.
Kassa said two words: "Sorry, Kain."
She flipped open the tome and recited the words inside it before Kain had time to react. A spray of light blasted from its pages, unlike any Kain had ever seen from any other spell, including any Kessler had ever cast. Rather than bolts or beams of light, the area around Kain seemed to shift, so that he was no longer standing inside of a tunnel but floating freely in a starlit night sky.
For most people, this might have been relaxing, but for Kain—and the Armor itself—it was absolutely terrifying.
Kain heard the Berserk shouting and screaming inside his head. "What's wrong?" he yelled, his voice lost in the star-studded darkness.
My power is sealed! We're trapped here, Kain! That magic, that awful magic, has separated me—us—from the outside world, and it has made me lose control of myself! As long as her enchantment holds, we'll be suspended in here, and I can't…my hunger…I can't keep myself from consuming you!
"Damn it! What about our puppets, outside?"
They've dissolved into nothingness, now that they've been separated from us!
"Then hold…hold…"
Kain couldn't complete the sentence as waves of pain crashed through him, far worse than mere physical pain. He could feel his mind crumbling and his soul itself being eaten away by the Armor that was supposed to be his savior. If there was a worse way to die, he couldn't imagine it.
Then, all of a sudden, it all fell away.
The stars around him blinked, then winked out entirely, and to his immense surprise, Kain found himself not floating in an endless void but thudding unceremoniously to the ground back inside the tunnel. And the first thing he heard was screaming.
"Rhia! Rhiaaaaaa!"
Something was wrong with Kassa. Very wrong. The Starlight tome had fallen from her hands and she was laying on the ground, clutching her chest and screaming someone's name. Her hair had gone all-white as well. Surrounding her were several Monks and even a pair of Bishops, who were obviously quite worried. They had no idea what had happened to her. One had a Mend staff out, its blue light washing over her prone form, but to no avail.
They didn't stand a chance. Perhaps if Kassa was still standing, they might have posed a threat to Kain, but with their leader incapacitated, they were easy prey.
The Armor hadn't recovered its full capabilities, but it was already back in control of itself, and Kain wasted no time revealing that fact. He leapt forwards, before any of the panicked priests could react, and began to tear into them with hands tipped by black claws. Within under a minute, he'd slaughtered all fifteen of them. Only Kassa was left alive.
"Kassa," Kain muttered again. He knelt down gently before her body, but he could tell getting answers from her would be near-impossible. She was still alive, but her mind seemed to have been destroyed. Her eyes rolled back in her head and nothing came out of her mouth save gurgling noises and a thin stream of drool.
You wish to know her secrets? The Armor chuckled in his mind. She's in no condition to tell you that, now. But I can pry the secrets from her mind. Allow me…
The Armor seemed to take control of Kain's body. Tendrils sprang from his back and lifted Kassa's body off of the floor. They removed her clothes and turned her over, allowing Kain to see the large, bizarre tattoo stamped on her back.
"I, it…it can't be, Oldnar was telling the truth?" Sorrow and anger choked Kain's voice. "That tattoo…so she really was the one who killed the chief of the Iceaxe tribe. But…why would she betray us?"
Let me show you.
The black tendrils jabbed into that tattoo, and it glowed purple for a moment as the Armor fused with it. Kassa's body jerked, and so did Kain's, as the Berserk united their minds…
He saw a pair of newly-born twin girls, lying face-down on an altar of some sort, beyond which was darkness. A strange tattoo burned itself on both their backs, steam rising from the babies' skin as they cried in obvious pain and fear.
"The ritual was a success?" This question came from a woman's voice in the darkness whose owner he could not see.
"Yes," replied a man's voice. "These children will be most useful for our purposes. The sigil you see there will unite their minds and hearts. You can keep one here, and another in a distant land at the edge of the world, and the former will be able to see and hear everything the latter does. It makes for excellent spying."
"But the price?"
"If one dies, the other will die as well…or, nearly die, at any rate."
"An acceptable risk."
"I thought you'd say that. So, what do you want to name them?"
"Rhia…and Kassa."
Kain was then whisked nearly twenty years in the future…
Kassa stood in front of the mirror, grinning slyly to herself. "Sister, are you listening?"
"I am," came a voice in her head.
"I've just convinced Kain to join the Red Shoulders."
"Kain? That little boy who always had a crush on you?"
"Yes. I think he'll be a good recruit."
"Getting him into some trouble, are you?"
She shrugged. "It's not as if I return his affections. I like him, but he's useful to me. And in any case, he's wanted adventure for a while. Why not give him his wish?"
"Yes, your heart has always belonged to Trunicht and Oldnar, hasn't it?"
"Not my heart—my wallet. Those two have taken care of us very well over the years, ever since our parents died. I'd rather serve them than Kain, or any other 'friend.' But, again, it's not as if I hate anyone, either. If Kain enjoys the adventure I'm sending him on, or even profits from it, I'll be glad. But if not, it can't be helped, I suppose. Either way, I'll keep using him as long as I can and as long as it profits me…"
Then, nearly two years later…he saw her conferring again with her sister.
"Sister, I've received word from Oldnar and Gosterro. They want you to assassinate the chief of the Iceaxe tribe."
"Assassinate? But why? I thought they were our allies."
"Kassa, things are coming to a head. Both of you and Oldnar have planned to leave the Red Shoulders, ever since the war on the mainland was lost. I know that, don't try to hide it from me. We're bonded by more than blood, rememeber? But Oldnar contacted Gosterro last night and told him they had to speed things up. They want the war on the Western Isles to end as soon as possible, which means uniting everyone on it against the Red Shoulders. Breaking the alliance between Bern, the Red Shoulders, and the natives and moving them all to Etruria's camp would be an easy way to do so,
"A…alright. I'll find a way to get at that chief."
"You sound hesitant, sister. What's the matter? Afraid of betraying Kain?"
"A little. I'd grown to like him, and the rest of Squad Seven, for that matter."
"So you don't want to do this, then?"
"Mmm…that's not it. It's a tough choice, but…"
"Heh, I knew I could count on you, sister. You always did know what was best for us, didn't you?"
Another flash forwards of a few months, and Kain saw Kassa and Oldnar sitting inside of a Royalist caravan…
"It's done," Oldnar said. "The Red Shoulders have been annihilated, down to a man."
"Is that so?"
"A little sad, are you?"
"N…no. I'm always yours, Oldnar, and I always will be. I care nothing for those who died."
"Excellent. Well, I hope you'll be just as happy serving under me in the Church. In return for my good work, Gosterro has offered to make me a Bishop and put me in charge of the Ebrakhm mines. You'd do quite well as an overseer there, I think. The Elimineans on this isle have a particular reverence for women thanks to Saint Elimine. They'd be more docile if they were under your supervision than mine directly."
"That sounds reasonable. I accept."
Then, there was one last memory, wrung from the sigil itself: That of Kassa's twin sister. It was the last thing Rhia ever saw, and it was a very fresh memory, no more than a few minutes old: A Silver Sword protruding from her chest as she stared at her killer, a teal-haired man whose face was twisted by hatred as he kept his other hand clamped firmly over her mouth.
You see, Kain? The Armor chuckled. She never cared about you. You and your friends were never anything more than a way for her to gain power.
Why don't you help me?
Kain answered with his actions.
The limbs from his back drew Kassa closer to his body, which expanded outwards as it absorbed her. In her last moments, she regained some lucidity, and began to scream as she became a part of the man she betrayed.
Yes…Yes! Such power…a woman touched by a seal like this is truly a worthy sacrifice. Yes, yes, yes! I finally have enough! Finally, I've harvested enough!
I require but one more thing, Kain: Do you consent? Do you wish for me to give my gift to this entire world?
Memories ran through Kain's mind. Visions of his friends smiling, the thrill of victory, the warmth of camaraderie…
All taken away by the betrayal of the two people he trusted most in the world.
"Yes," he breathed, his voice heavy over Kassa's throat. "There's nothing good in this world. Let it all burn."
I knew you'd say that. You're such a good friend, Kain. Let me grant your wish.
Kassa stopped screaming.
Kain started.