Chapter 2: Old Friend

My mouth was agape with astonishment as I stared at the man looming over me in my cold den. Batta the Beast was standing before me as barbaric as the day I had first encountered him on the Sacae plains. The scoundrel had been terrorizing a nomad encampment with his lackeys. Lyn and I (mostly Lyn…) were able to kill the bandits and save the nomads, despite being outnumbered and outmuscled, as is the beauty of tactics. Come to think of it, Batta was such a minor battle in the grand scheme of my adventures; it was a wonder that I remembered him at all. It was probably only because it had been my first battle alongside Lyn, the first of many to be sure. But, Lyn wasn't here now; it was just me, left only with a man whose death I was partly responsible for, and his axe.

In a roar of fury, the bandit raised his axe above his head and performed a running slice directly towards me. I was still wracked with pain from the numerous beatings I had taken, but necessity kicked in and I dove left, hearing the hatchet strike the floor behind me. I quickly scrambled towards the door, heart racing and adrenaline pumping furiously in a near dive towards the opening. I should've guessed though that fate wouldn't let me off that easy. I felt one of Batta's cold hands grab my left ankle and yank me hard back the way I came. I hit the ground on my stomach and felt another surge of pain shoot through my body, flaring up every bruise and bump I had received. I twisted over just in time to see his axe raised prominently above my prone form; ready to cleave my captured leg in two. In an act of desperation, which to this day I thank Elimine had worked, I swung my right leg up just as he was bringing the blow down. Luckily, my heel connected with his wrist with enough force to send the axe flipping through the air to the other side of the room.

Though I had temporarily disarmed him, I was nowhere near safe. Grabbing my ankle with both hands, he threw me into the far corner causing another jarring blow which I far from enjoyed. Though muscular, I was more than sure the profound strength he had used to chuck me had been gifted to him by his new morph body. Batta raced to grab his axe while I pulled myself up, fighting through the pain which I'm sure consisted of a couple broken bones by now at least. With another vengeful roar, Batta swung his axe in a horizontal chop, aiming to cleave right through my ribs. Thankfully, luck was once more on my side. In an attempt to dodge, I stumbled low and ungracefully to my right as the weapon connected with the brick wall just above my head.

I had enough of this. I was certainly no fighter, but if I kept running and didn't make an attempt to fight back I'd have surely been dead. I may not possess the strength and skill of many of the warriors who I've worked with over the years, but it was my job to understand the theory of fighting. Tactics was all about defeating superior numbers and strengths, it was no different now. I just needed to hit him hard enough in the right spot to incapacitate him, and then I'll lock him in the cell and go from there.

Batta had struck the wall hard enough that his axe was buried into the stone nearly down to the shaft of the weapon. He was busy wrenching his it out of the wall, leaving his back wide open to an attack. I had lost my knife from when I had been flung by Oz's lackey back in his study, but that didn't stop me. I clasped both my hands together tightly and twisted my legs and hips hard to generate as much power as I could. I aimed for the kidney and hit home as Batta the Beast's body crumpled over into the corner with a grunt of pain.

Now was my chance, I turned on the spot and made as fast as I could toward the door in the form of a hurried limp. I could feel my left ankle was swollen and radiating with pain, broken or sprained I couldn't tell and at that moment it didn't matter. I felt my heart jump as I passed through the threshold into the hallway and turned around to slam the door. I still heard a wild commotion off down the hallway, but I'd deal with that when it came to it. I grabbed the edge of the door and shut it as quickly as I could, but the weight and the sheer size caused it to go slower than I wanted it to. I saw Batta was back up on his feet, axe recovered and charging maniacally towards the closing door. I shut my eyes and pushed as hard as my wounded body would allow. The last few inches of the door closing seemed to go on forever, watching the gap get smaller and smaller as I pushed. I felt a surge of determination shoot through my body, sensing victory was so close!

I had almost made it too. Batta slammed into the iron recklessly making use of his new strength, causing me to stumble back from the door and opening it wide enough for him to emerge. I staggered back into the open room behind me and fell right on top of something wet and cold. I knew right away what it was, but I was more worried about the crazed bandit charging me down than the dead body I had just fallen on top of. I rolled back as Batta brought the axe down for another unsuccessful strike, this time sticking right into the body of the dead singer boy.

"I've had enough of this." Batta grumbled as he pulled his axe from the beaten body with a sickening slurp.

"Why won't you just hold still and let the beast feed!" Through the darkness of this new and blood stained room I still saw his burning yellow eyes, targeting me through the veil of black. I backed up against the back wall, knowing I had nowhere left to run. I was exhausted and in intense pain, I couldn't even muster the energy for one more evasion or attack. I had made the best tactical choices possible and gave it my all; there was nothing I could've done different. However, faced with the facts I was still dead, which was sometimes the grim reality of a battle. With nothing left but to prepare myself for death I closed my eyes and imagined the most pleasant thing I could. …It's really pathetic when you can't decide whether the image should be a beautiful woman or a bottle of liquor.

Blessedly, I didn't have to make that dreadful decision. I heard a brutal stab and a startled gasp in front of me. I looked up to see a rather large knife protruding through Batta's chest. The look of shock on his face was priceless. His weakened grip caused the axe to slide out from his hand and his lips moved slowly and breathlessly as if he were trying to say something. The blade disappeared back into his chest and the bandit stumbled forward with a cough; it was punctuated by what seemed to be a dark purple whirlwind that landed a kick to the side of Batta's head and caused him to explode into a cloud of dust. The stranger landed softly on the ground, obscured in dark colors and preventing me from seeing his face.

I thought of thanking my savior, but for all I knew, this newcomer was planning on killing me as well. It didn't matter either way though, I felt my body becoming heavy and my eyes were drooping. I made an attempt to fight sleep's grasp over my mind, but felt myself slipping away. Through my blurred vision and the cloud of dust, I spotted the knife that had slain Batta, shimmering in the candle light as the assailant drew closer. I waited wearily for the last thing I'd feel in this life, the blade plunged into my body. Strangely enough though, I felt no blade, just a hand shake my shoulder and muffled sayings as I slipped away.

In Mark's Head

My mind drifted peacefully through pleasant dreams. I didn't often have such nice dreams, making it a near miracle there was so much comforting material crammed into one. I started off dreaming of better days. Days alongside comrades I was proud to count as friends, fighting to keep others safe and for the greater good of Elibe. I dreamed of the family I had not seen in many years… many years indeed. My father, my mother, my brother and sister together once more and living peacefully as we once did so long ago. I didn't stay long there, though it brought me some comfort, to even see their faces outweighed the slight comfort with pain. I dreamed of beautiful landscapes: The majestic mountains of Bern, The pure snow covered fields of Ilia, and the breathtaking Plains of Sacae. I couldn't think of the plains without thinking of her of course…

I remembered waking up in a ger to a smiling face, illuminated by natural warmth that seemed to perpetuate from within her. She introduced herself as Lyn of the Lorca tribe. Lyn had taken me in when I'm sure many others would have (and probably had) stepped over my corpse and kept walking. Not only that, but she was whole-heartedly worried about me, an injured stranger who had absolutely nothing to offer in return for her help. After all, she didn't have much either; In fact, she gave me the last of the food she had left, a small bowl of beef stew. I took a few sips before insisting she have some too. She of course refused, claiming that she had eaten before and was full. Her stomach betrayed her though, growling louder than any predator I had ever heard in my life. We both burst into laughter before finally splitting it with a single spoon.

Then on came the chaos. Lyn heard screams outside and rushed to grab a sword to save them. I thought she was mad; a young girl going out alone to stop a group of murderous bandits? She'd have been ripped to pieces! I insisted on accompanying her and formulated a plan to easily rout the brigands. I don't wish to take too great of credit though, it couldn't have been pulled off by an amateur. Lyn was amazing. She moved with such speed and grace I had never seen before on the battlefield. And with it came a ferocity and tenacity that I had rarely ever seen in a warrior. We saved the nomads and were rewarded with food that both of us appreciated greatly.

We had a feast that night with the nomads around a camp fire. They sang and danced for hours, eventually convincing me to jump into the mix. It was clear I had two left feet, but the nomads taught me some and we had fun all the same. Once things calmed down, I was grilled with questions about life outside of Sacae. I answered all their questions, telling them of the cities I had encountered, the different cultures, Elimine's church, and the strange places my studies and profession had brought me even at my young age. I remember the whole time Lyn's eyes sparked with an adventurous hunger I knew all too well. At one point they asked about my family. I considered telling them the truth just to get it off my chest, but that would've been unfair. Instead, I told them my family was back home in Etruria, and I hadn't seen them in years… it wasn't exactly a lie, just vague.

The next morning I prepared to set out, planning on heading to Bulgar to hopefully find a job and earn some money. She asked if she could come with me on my journey… I stupidly asked if her parents would mind. I remember the pained look on her face as she recounted the story for me. They had been killed by the Taliver bandits, leaving Lyn all alone to fend for herself for months now. She was a strong girl, stronger than many people I've known throughout my life, but the memory proved to be too much and I remember the tears streaming down her cheeks. I didn't know exactly what to do; I had never been the most successful with women. So, I did what I felt. I took Lyn into my arms and let her cry into my shoulder. I held her close and I told her she could follow me for as long as she wanted that there would always be a place by my side as long as she sought it.

Oh Mark. What a liar you were.

Several Hours Later

For a third time I woke up in one of those forsaken cells, staring at the dark brick with a cold chill in the air. The frustration mounting from the situation almost made me wish I had died, at least then I would've at least been out of this room. That's when it hit me, I wasn't dead. I was still in pain, but not dead. I glanced around quickly and noticed no one else in the cell with me, other than the dead body and the pile of dust that was once Batta the Beast. Strangely enough, there was a dark purple cloak draped over my body which had kept me a sight warmer than I probably would've felt waking up in this freezer. I shifted myself slightly on the ground to try and sit up, but grunted loudly in pain.

"I wouldn't move that much if I were you." The voice startled me, and of course the jump made me moan in pain again as I gave up and lay back down.

"Who goes there? Who are you?" I asked in as commanding of a voice as I could manage. It of course was a pathetic attempt, but then again who was expecting someone beaten unconscious three times in the course of a single day to have any sort of command presence left.

"Relax; I see you're still as jumpy as always." Pinning the direction of the voice, I craned my neck over to the left and stared intently into the corner. After a couple moments, my savior crept out of the shadows and took a place sitting by my side. It was far from who I was expecting and the familiar face caused a sigh of relief to escape my lips.

"Legault… what are you doing here?" The hurricane shrugged his shoulders as he took the cloak from off me and wrapped it around his shoulders once more.

"It's a long story. Good thing you're up… I was starting to get cold." He reached into his bag and placed a small blue bottle near my head.

"Here you go, you look pretty beat up." I carefully took the elixir in my hand and slowly began the pathetic process of removing the top. After a minute of limited success, I heard Legault sigh as he took it back and opened it for me.

"I would've given it to you while you slept, but you probably would've choked on it." He was about to place the container back in my hands, but then stopped when he saw how they were shaking from effort. He shook his head and carefully lifted my head off the floor, pouring the foul liquid down my throat.

"Thank you, I owe you big time." I stated as I was laid back down, awaiting the elixir to kick in.

"You absolutely do, but I figure you've saved my butt hundreds of times on the battle field so it weighs out a bit. How about you buy me a drink and we'll call it even?" I nodded in agreement as I began to feel the liquid work its magic. Though still in pain, I was able to muster the stamina to pull myself up and sit with my back against the wall.

Legault had always been a little bit of an odd one. He had joined our army back on Dread Isle after deserting the Black Fangs due to its new corrupt direction. He was largely untrusted by a lot of the troops in our ranks and made few friends during his stay. However, he was an exceptional warrior on the field, using his guile and stealth to best many enemies and obtain invaluable information in battle. Because of this key scouting and spying role he often reported directly to me to update me on the enemy's movements and carry out messages I'd have to our soldiers in other areas of the field. Our working relationship soon spilled over and we spoke much off the battlefield, making me one of only a handful in the camp that truly trusted Legault. In fact, following my departure from the Lycian army, I invited Legault to accompany me on my travels. He declined, insisting there was something he had to take care of first.

"So Legault, dare I ask what brings you here?"

"Vacation." He stated bluntly and humorlessly as he leaned against the door and shrugged.

"Is that so?"

"No not at all. I was actually low on coin so I started salvaging any valuables I could find in the ruins that I might be able to sell. That same night these guys decided to move in and make this place into a base. There were too many of them, they over-powered me and locked me up here."

"Moved in? So these people haven't been here for long?"

"Yep, I think it's been about a week now."

"What else have you gathered about them?" I felt as if we were shifting right back into our old routine of question and answer we'd perform when exchanging information.

"I've been locked in one of these cells for a week and you think I know what's going on?"

"I know you Legault. You'd never let yourself get caught with your pants down even when you're a prisoner."

"…Well maybe I've snuck out a couple nights. These doors are pretty old and it's not hard to figure out the locks after a little inspection."

"And?" Legault traced one of the scars over his left eye with his index finger as he collected his thoughts.

"I've collected very little, but I do know they call themselves the children of Garoon and their leader is a man named Oz. They came here looking for someone, who and why I'm not sure. The soldiers are pretty well armed and trained; the higher ranks of this group are a bunch of freaks though if you ask me. Did you see that tall guy?" Children of Garoon… bastards! Don't they understand what they're trying to do! I realized Legault was awaiting a reply; I snapped out of my train of thought and nodded.

"Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting him earlier. What about these morphs? I thought Nergal was the only one who knew how to make them. How'd these guys manage it?"

"I can't tell you much. All I know is there aren't a lot of them, and from what I can tell the majority of them were locked up in here with us. Their purpose or how they're created, I'm not so sure about. What about you?"

"Pardon?"

"How'd you end up here? I told you my information and now you give me yours. That's how this used to work remember?" A small smile crept onto my face; he had been thinking the same thing I was about our old routine.

"To be honest I couldn't tell you. Last night I was getting plastered in some bar in a nearby town. I blacked out and I woke up here beaten up with this on me." I raised my left wrist and showed my new tattoo. He walked up closer for a better look and inspected the ink carefully.

"What is it? You never struck me as a tattoo kind of guy Mark."

"I'm not; I woke up with it on me. I assumed this lot put it on me. You didn't get one?"

"Nope, nothing on me. They're just particularly fond of you I guess." Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. I thought grimly to myself. Legault turned around and looked between the dead body and the pile of dust that lay before him.

"I tell ya, I've seen my fair share of prisons, but this is by far the most violent one I've ever been privileged to. Too bad about the kid, he was crazy but he used to give me the only entertainment offered in this place." I followed the hurricane's gaze and got my first good look of the singer's body since his death. The boy had been beaten brutally with some kind of club; I'm guessing it had been the bloody one the knight creature had been holding before. There was not much left of his head, and there were many disfiguring injuries doled out to his limbs. A large gash was down his back, but I knew that one was from Batta's axe blow. That reminded me, Batta. My gaze shifted right towards the pile of dust that had accumulated off to the side of the room.

"What was that before?" I asked Legault as he turned back to face me.

"What a morph? Please don't tell me you've forgotten about those things already?" He said sarcastically.

"No. I meant everything that happened before. I heard a commotion outside, screaming, violation, just utter mayhem! Then Batta came in and tried to top me off for good." Legault glanced over to mound that the bandit had been reduced to.

"You knew him?"

"He was the first enemy I had ever fought with Lyn. He had been brought back by these people…"

"That's a weird coincidence. He wasn't the only morph though; did you see any of the others out there?" I shook my head for a negative.

"Well there were plenty of them. That weird knight morph unlocked every cell in the hallway and allowed for some whole-sale slaughter. It wasn't just morphs though, there were purely innocent people who had been captured and forced to stay here." Legault looked back once more at the dead body nearby. "I don't think any of them made it. …I tried Mark I really did."

"I know you did Legault, no one's blaming you." I felt pity for the innocents, but then the thought was pushed out of my head for another thought that had abruptly arisen. More of a concern really, one that I hoped to Elimine herself wasn't true.

"Legault, did you happen to pick up anything on the other morphs? Maybe what they looked like, what they said, names, anything?" The shadowy warrior scratched the side of his head in thought.

"Ya gotta understand Mark, it was crazy out there. I was outnumbered and fighting for my life so I unfortunately didn't have time to exchange pleasantries. …Wait, wait there were a couple things that were sticking out. I remember there was a group of morph bandits who were doing most of the carnage. They cried out their name at one point… I think it was the Ganeleon bandits?" My heart froze at this new information. It was just as I feared.

"Did you catch any names! What were their names!"

"Relax Mark relax! Just let me think for a minutes. I heard a couple out there… Cargera? And I think Megul?"

"Carjiga and Migal…"

"Yeah that's right! Oh! And come to think of it there was this one loud mouth I remember killing. He was claiming he was the best swordsman in all of Elibe, or something ridiculous like that. I think his name-."

"Glass."

"Yeah… how'd you know?" Distraught that my deduction was true, I shook my head and then rested my forehead in my hands.

"Those morphs were all enemies I had defeated years ago."

"What? That's impossible! Could it be a coincidence?"

"I'm not so sure… it's too weird to be by chance. Batta, Glass, and the Ganeleon… They must've known that I've fought them before."

"Why though? Mark, are you sure you don't have any history with them?"

"I thought I didn't, but now I'm not so sure. What really bothers me though is why them? They were relatively weak in life; surely if they wanted to revive some of my past enemies they could've picked more powerful targets. And their name still bothers me… The Children of Garoon…" Legault crouched beside me.

"What about their name?"

"It's Garoon, it's a…" I contemplated the matter for a few moments. I hadn't spoken about Garoon in years, told no one about my connection to it, or had explained what it was. Legault was one of my closest allies, if I couldn't tell him who could I tell?

"It's… a name I read of once before. I can't place my finger on whom or what it was though." I feigned frustration as I made it appear I was making an effort to remember the origin of the name. Legault simply laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Don't beat yourself up over it Mark, I'm sure it'll come back to you. After all, it seems like we're gonna be here a while." I laughed softly with him, but my shoulders felt a little heavier. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't tell Legault about it all. I certainly felt bad for lying to my friend, but I simply wasn't ready to share the secret I had kept forced in for so long. I had no idea how he'd react to the information, for all I knew he could've killed me on the spot for my connection to Garoon. I felt like a coward for keeping it in though, things may've turned out differently if I had just filled in Legault right there in that prison cell; then again it all could've gone down the same. It didn't matter, what was done was done, and the truth would come out eventually.

Compound Courtyard

Two of the Children of Garoon soldiers patrolled stoically around the still standing perimeter wall of the ruins. The two had barely said a word to each other while on their shift, remaining vigilante like the disciplined soldiers they were trained to be. However, the clouds had recently broke and proudly presented the setting sun to the West, much to the men's chagrin. The snow that coated the landscape caused a bright glare, blinding the men and forcing them to shield their faces with one hand as they crossed atop the West wall. As they were passing through, one of the guards thought he saw movement through the glare.

"Wait, hold on…" He turned to face the landscape and struggled to block out the glare to properly inspect the outlying region.

"What is it?" The other asked, not bothering to look out in that direction, already getting a headache from the sun's rays.

"I think-." The first guard didn't even get to finish, as a javelin hitting him square in the throat cut him off. He staggered backward with a loud gurgle before slipping off the wall and falling to his death. The other guard gasped in shock as he saw his comrade eliminated. He quickly turned towards the compound and screamed out to the rest of the army.

"Alert! We're being invaded! Everyone-!" A blur of white and blue flashed over the wall as the horn of a falcon knight punched through the back of the guard. The pegasus, shook the body away and reared up on it hind legs with a loud whiney. The Wing-Borne Warrior, the blue girl riding on its back, raised her lance above her head and cried out.

"5th wing! Advance! Free the prisoners!"

Firedude: There you are, hope you all enjoyed it. Now I know I got this one up pretty quickly, but other chapters will not be done this fast so try not to get used to it. Same as always, reviews of any sort are welcome; I enjoy having my readers' thoughts shared with me.