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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time
Book 1: The Beginning
Chapter 3 - For the Lovers
Part 3.2 - Dragon of the West
Draco raced across the outskirts of the battlefield, the limp forms of Biggs and Wedge shaking in his firm, but gentle grasp. He knew he didn't have much time before the East's troops returned from their cowardly flight, and the Western base camp, although nearly emptied, was the only safe place left now. He may have been able to fend the soldiers off and make his escape by himself, but it was impossible to keep his two newfound charges away from harm at the same time. He would not leave them behind to die, or worse, captured and tortured by the enemy. Draco knew all too well what the East did to its prisoners, and he would sacrifice himself to the enemy before allowing any of his men to meet such a cruel fate. These disturbing thoughts were quickly put aside as Draco saw a large forest looming into view a few paces ahead of him. He breathed a sigh of relief and quickened his pace.
The forest where the Western base camp was situated soon stood before him, a thick tangle of roots and deadwood blocking any large assault from the enemy. The forest itself was a natural barrier against invading forces, and this was precisely why the West had chosen it as their last line of defense. With the stealth of a cat Draco darted into the dark underbrush, vanishing from sight. He knew the secret paths that allowed safe access to the camp, and carefully checked his back to ensure he wasn't being followed. The worst thing he could do at this point is allow the enemy to discover the paths to the base. The base was the last bastion of his forces, and with its fall there would be nothing standing between the East and the Western capital. Draco was determined to not let the East have their way with the capital so easily. More than the city itself, his love and bride-to-be was waiting for him there. To let the West fall would be to fail his love, and allow the despicable East to have their way with her as well. At this thought Draco shuddered in rage, and cursed himself for being forced to retreat.
"Swine of the East! I will pay you back blood for blood, tears for tears. You will rue the day you awakened the Dragon of the West!"
With these words, Draco looked up into the starry sky, the two moons shining through a clearing in the forest canopy. The sky shown with a comforting coolness that stilled the fires of vengeance burning in Draco's chest. He knew that somewhere his one true love was looking at those same stars, wondering what fate had befallen her hero. Was she safe? Was she waiting?
"Oh Maria, please hear my voice in your heart, and know that I long to be with you. It will not be long now before we embrace once more. I pray that you are unharmed, for my life would be forfeit without you. Everything I have done, I have done for your sake and for our child. The world he is born into will be a safe one. I swear on my life!"
Draco winced back tears as he said this oath. He had learned of Maria's pregnancy shortly before leaving for the final confrontation of the war, and often dreamt of the time when he would be able to hold his child in his arms instead of his sword, or the bodies of his men.
A gunshot in the distance stirred Draco from his thoughts, and reminded him of the imminent danger he was in. The East had regrouped and was scouring the countryside for signs of Draco's escape. There was sure to be a hefty reward for the capture of the West's great hero-general, and Draco knew that there would be no mercy shown to him if he were found. His fingers grasped the two bodies on his shoulders tighter and he continued to struggle against the weeds and vines that blocked the obscure trail beneath him. If only he could use his sword! That would mean leaving Biggs and Wedge behind, though, and Draco's noble mind would never allow such an action. For now the Scion, the heirloom of the Christophe line since time immemorial, would remain sheathed.
Another gunshot, this time much closer, rang in Draco's ears. The enemy was getting closer to his location. They must have picked up his trail outside of the forest and were sending out warning shots in hopes of flushing Draco out of hiding. The enemy soldiers would be able to catch up to his location with ease, thanks to their swords. Draco knew this and prayed to whatever gods were listening to allow him safe passage to the base camp. The burden of the two warriors in his arms weighed heavily on both his body and mind. No, he had promised to see the end of this war with them, and a knight always keeps his word, especially on the battlefield. Promises made in the heat of battle were forged with the blood of fallen allies. To break a war pact was the height of dishonor to all those who had given their lives to their country. Draco would never be able to stand the sight of himself if he betrayed his word or his men. It was this unwavering devotion to his fellow man that had endeared the general to his troops so completely, and they to him. If there was any love that could compare to his love for Maria, it was his love for his fellow man and for peace. The road to peace was paved with the bodies of those who had refused to fight for it, though. In times of war Draco had been forced to raise his weapon to the injustices around him, continuing the way of the sword that had been passed on through his family line for generations.
The shouts of enemy trackers and howl of wolves could be heard now, causing Draco to grimace. That unearthly howl heralded his inevitable capture. The trackers of the East, known as the Red Fangs, were near-legendary in their ability to hunt down prey. The Red Fangs were so named due to their use of a beast by the same name. The Red Fang was a monstrous wolf bred specifically for the hunting down of the East's enemies. Their crimson red fur struck fear into the hearts of all who saw them, even when they weren't hunting. The bloodied backs of the beasts reminded all of their fearsome power just under the surface. In the middle of a hunt, no one dared catch sight of the fell creature, for as surely as the wolf could be seen, the unhappy victim would have already been detected by its infallible eyes. These creatures also had a cruel poison hidden within their saliva, and anyone bitten by a Red Fang was driven to madness within minutes, making capture all the easier.
Draco knew all the gruesome details of the foe behind him, and was faced with a dilemma. Escape was still possible if he gave up Biggs and Wedge, but if he stayed his present course of action all three would surely be torn to shreds by the Red Fangs, or worse captured. The impossible choice had to be made here and now. It seemed to Draco that no matter what he decided, the regret would hound him for the rest of his life as surely as the Red Fangs hounded him now. The choice had to be made though, and the leader's instinct he had honed over the years told him he couldn't abandon his men, or his honor. He would stand his ground and fend off the Red Fangs as best he could in hopes of the three of them being taken alive. Capture left hope of escape and revenge, however slight. There was no hope beyond the doors of death and dishonor, though. With this in mind, Draco strengthened his resolve and carefully laid the bodies of Biggs and Wedge on the ground beside him. He quickly scanned his surroundings and within seconds determined the best course of action against the coming adversaries. From the howls he judged there were four of them, and at least as many trackers behind them. The trackers did not concern him, though. If all went according to plan, there would be no fight with them, and Draco, Biggs and Wedge would be captured without harm.
Another howl, dreadfully close to his position, set him on guard for the approaching assault. With one last look to the stars, Draco steadied himself and slowly unsheathed the proud Scion, magnificently glimmering in the moonlight. The Dragon of the West was awake and fully prepared for what he knew would be the true final desperate stand of the West.