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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time
Book 2: The Goddess War
Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star
Part 10.5 - Will of the Gods
The little bird had reached the Medina River, and was eager, practically compelled, to drink once more from its strangely invigorating water. As it circled downwards towards the river, though, a large shadow loomed over it. Thinking it was a hawk or some other bird of prey, it darted straight down, to the cover of the trees. But this was no hawk, and there was nowhere the bird could hide.
The shadow grew and grew, far beyond the usual pattern of a predator. As the bird reached the trees lining the river, it slowed its descent and tried to find a safe spot to rest. The shadow never ceased its speed, and crashed through the forest at full speed. Nothing was spared, and the little bird was flung to the ground with chunks of trees and earth. As the broken bird lifted its head from the dirt, it saw nothing. Just a black darkness devouring its world. In a moment, the bird was gone, and so was the great shadow that had fallen on the Medina Wood. The only evidence of the brief struggle was a crater surrounded by smashed trees.
The rich, energizing water of the Medina River continued its journey from mountain to sea, oblivious to the spectacle that had just occurred. Further north, past the Medina Wood, past the northern border of Jidorik, past the bounds of civilization, the Zozo mountain range loomed darkly, its skies filled with rolling thunderheads. Here, at the source of the Medina deep in the mountains, all kinds of barbarians, outcasts, and misfits eked out dangerous lives on the edge of the knife. It was a precarious existence, but these people had managed to survive for thousands of years here, unmolested by the events of the outside world.
Or so they had, until recently. With the coming of the mysterious storm several months ago, a new order had replaced the law of the wild that had reigned here for generations. Beneath the perpetual storm, a massive gathering was taking place in the Zozo mountains. Thousands upon thousands of savages were busily working for a common goal now, all running from one illuminated camp to another in the damp and dark. Odd tower-like constructions were rising into the sky where only huts had been before, all lit with the same otherworldly light that seemed to come from nowhere. Mighty engines of war lay rumbling between the towers, eagerly awaiting the day when they would roll south. Everywhere was rabid activity and an ordered chaos, all moving in time to an unseen conductor. And covering it all was the golden web of sourceless light.
At the center of this blossoming conglomeration of metal and light was a throne like nothing the mortal world had ever seen before. It was a throne only glimpsed in the primordial dreams of mankind, a throne of divine inspiration and obscene proportions. Where the Medina began its lengthy course at the heart of the mountains, there stood a perfectly pyramidal mountain of pure gold hundreds of feet high, outshining all the surrounding lights with its opulence. Scattered around its wide base were countless savage folk, all bent down to the ground in worshipful adulation.
The top of the golden pyramid was flattened and vast, capable of holding over a thousand of the savage folk praying at its base. Steps carpeted with red velvet rose up on all four sides of the golden throne, leading to four skull-lined paths that crossed the plateau-like upper level. Each path met at the very center of the pyramid's peak, where an unusual seat of power rested. The base of the actual throne was an earthen mound carved in the shape of a giant female head, peering out over the pyramid like a small island. Only the woman's face from the nose up could be seen, with glittering eyes of diamond surveying the world silently. The hair was softly glowing goldenrod, alive and growing out of the mound itself in tall, smooth waves. Two twisting horns of stone jutted out of the goldenrod hair on either side, giving the beautiful woman a distinctly devilish appearance.
Atop this demonic mount was the immaculate form of a nude woman so real that only an intimately close inspection could reveal that it was only a statue. Behind the stone woman was a giant golden disc shaped like the rising sun, fat and golden. This golden disc was the true center of the web of phantom light that had ensnared the Zozo mountains, and all the surrounding illumination found its source at this one central point. With each pulse of light from the false sun, the contingent of constantly praying savages nearby moaned in ecstasy, and the statue heaved and vibrated in response. The worshippers gave their life energy to the statue, and the statue in turn gave them the light of heaven.
This holy icon was the center of the universe for the filthy creatures that had lived here in darkness for so long. Now, they stood in awe and reverence to the divine being who had returned to them after an almost unbearably long absence. This was their Goddess, the divine Astarte. Passed down from generation to generation in these forbidding mountains was the legend of the exiled goddess. Once, long ago, this goddess had given her light to these people in a faraway land until she was exiled by the other gods, jealous of her beauty and power. She had sworn she would return one day, and her people, now exiles themselves on a strange continent, had waited patiently for the promised day.
Now, after untold centuries and countless miles, the lost tribe of Astarte had found their Goddess once again. She had arrived on the back of a mighty serpent riding a thunderstorm, and now promised riches beyond measure to all who would follow her as they had in ancient times. Among those who heard the whispers of the Goddess in their dreams was the young prince in exile, Chad Ralse.
Prince Ralse had thought little of the superstitions of Zozo when he had been forced to flee into the mountains, but as the vivid dreams slowly took their hold on his mind, he became acutely aware of the potential that now stood before him, in the form of a glowing statue of a lost goddess. The Goddess had promised him power and wealth beyond anything he had dared to reach for before, and had even shown him how these riches could be obtained. Soon, Ralse would be the mightiest king to ever rule, and all he needed to do was follow his dreams.
"My Goddess, hear my call." Ralse spoke from the foot of the female head that held up the statue of the Goddess. Around him was a circle of bowing savages, all moaning in unison. Piled at the base of the female head were various bones and skulls, all picked clean. And all human.
On cue, a terrifying array of lightning split the skies, and the clouds swirled and parted. Hovering directly above the statue, high in the darkening skies, was an old man with a flowing beard and burning eyes. In his hand he held a giant staff, alight with static energy. His blue robes fluttered in the violent air of the storm that he was generating. Rain fell around him, and electricity arced above him, but he remained untouched.
"The Goddess hears her servant, and sends her messenger," the old man spoke in a booming voice as he descended to the mortal plane. He stopped just above the statue, and glared at Ralse for several seconds before speaking again. "Have you brought a sacrifice?"
Ralse stepped to one side and revealed a young woman, no older than twenty. She was shivering and wretchedly dressed, but otherwise healthy. The woman looked up into the eyes of the old man, and remained frozen in place. Whether she was scared, hypnotized, or as willfully reverent as the other savages was impossible to tell. Whatever free will she once possessed had been stripped from her upon entering the domain of the Goddess. Now she was only a piece of flesh to be offered to Astarte, like so many before her.
"This woman is my gift to you, my Goddess," said Ralse. "I offer her in the hopes that the day of your resurrection will come soon."
The old man studied the woman for a moment, then nodded. "She is acceptable. Present her, and begone."
Ralse bowed and waved to the savages around him. Instantly four strong hands gripped the poor woman and dragged her up to the pile of bones at the foot of the mount. Ralse and the savages then backed away from the throne and left the woman alone with their Goddess.
The woman said nothing, and did not move from where she was placed. The old man pointed his glittering staff down at her, and for a moment a look of pain spread across his wizened face. The staff shook in his hands, and the woman's eyes shifted slightly at the uncertain gesture.
The statue seemed to pulse outward with a new surge of energy, and both the old man and the woman regained their proper aspects.
"Thus is the will of the gods," the old man said, all momentary emotion wiped from his face. The staff did not waver this time, and neither did the woman.
In a flash the brief ritual was over, and the woman was gone, forever one with her Goddess. The old man stood alone with the appeased statue.
"Thus is the will of the gods," he repeated sadly and quietly, rising back into the clouds to continue his never-ending task of maintaining the storm that circled the heart of the Zozo mountain range day and night.
As Ralse descended the grand staircase of the golden pyramid, not once looking back, he was silently joined by the specter of the Esper, Phantom. "What is the progress with the shipwright?" the ghostly figure asked in his raspy voice.
"Cait Sith has been watching him," Ralse replied calmly to the ghost, unfazed by his sudden appearance at his side. "She says he is coming along. But time is short, and he is stubborn. We may need to force him to drink if he does not make his decision soon. The Dragon has been seen dangerously close to the Medina recently, and my fool of a father has made no plans for the coming war. I think it is time..."
"No," Phantom said quickly. "Not yet. The West must make the first move, or the people of the East will not follow you. The Goddess is confident that Doom is on the verge of expanding into the East any day now, and our reports of his Herald near the Medina confirm this. He has run out of proper sacrifices in the West, and will make his move soon. We must have Giorgio Gabbianni before then. We must be ready to take the reigns of power in the East, and counterattack the West when the battle begins."
"What do you advise, then?"
"Giorgio must drink."
The two had reached the bottom of the pyramid, where the waters of the Medina were swirling and flowing south. "I understand." Ralse said, taking a drink from the river himself. He instantly felt his resolve tighten, and his entire body felt like it had been energized by an electric current. "The will of the Goddess must be obeyed," he said.
'The will of the Goddess must be obeyed." Phantom repeated, and vanished.
Far to the south and west of the magical waters of the Medina, another statue, much more gruesome in appearance than the beautiful Goddess, pulsed in anger. This statue was in the form of a giant four-armed demon with outspread wings and a half-decayed face, rising out of the ground in a twisted nightmare of inhuman skeletal remains fused together. The statue was so life-like that it was impossible to tell whether the bones that made up its base were real or simply an elaborate carving into the rock.
Unlike the statue of the Goddess, this statue was hidden from the outside world in the deepest, coldest crypts of Glastok Castle, far below even the crowded dungeons that fed the statue's insatiable appetite. Only one being was permitted to descend into this stinking hall of death, and he now stood before his master, quivering with barely contained anger in time with the statue. In his clawed hand he gripped a tattered letter, stained with blood.
Bring the traitor to me, Bahamut! The voice of Doom boomed inside the dragon king's crimson-tinged mind like a cannon.
"At once, Master," the dragon growled with half-feral intensity. Both the fading human aspect and the overwhelming dragon aspect of the mighty Bahamut roared their rage at the recent discovery. The letter had bitten deep into the Dragon of the West's pride, and his wrath would be swift and merciless.
These humans must learn their place in the coming new world. They exist only to serve the will of the gods. They are flesh for my body, and nothing more. This Lucius thinks he can plot behind my back, but he sorely underestimates the influence of Chemosh! Soon he will know my power first-hand, when his body becomes one with mine. Let us see this power of humanity he speaks of then!
Bahamut nodded in agreement, the betrayal of the man he had trusted more than any other stinging him to his very core. He had allowed this man into his life, allowed him to care for his wife, to deliver his children! The doctor had played him for a fool, had thought he could manipulate forces he couldn't even begin to fathom. Such arrogance must be punished, and punished swiftly.
Prepare our forces for the expansion into the East, as well. This region no longer contains enough suitable flesh for my body, and I can feel my other two banished brethren growing in power each day. Gather the Espers and prepare for war.
"Your will is mine, Master," Bahamut said.
And bring Lucius to me tonight. Once he is one with me, I will know just how far his treachery goes.
"Yes...," Bahamut growled, barely containing his rage.
Bahamut swept around and marched his way out of the freezing crypt, back into the lower dungeons of Glastok Castle. Standing guard at the crypt's entrance was the giant ape-like Esper, Hrimthurs. Bahamut looked at the white-furred beastman, and wondered how much he remembered of his human life. Did this dim-witted Esper remember his days, beating the prisoners into submission here? Did he remember when Bahamut, as the human Draco, out-maneuvered the brute and locked him in a cell himself? Were there plans for betrayal forming inside that thick skull even now?
"Hrimthurs, have you seen Lucius recently?" Bahamut asked.
"No, my Lord. I haven't seen him since he left for the Maiden with the Lady Starlet." Hrimthurs responded in his slow voice.
No, Lucius may have betrayed me, but this one never will. Whether or not he remembers how I humiliated him and killed his partner, now he is a slave to my Master. He has no more free will than I...
"Find him, and bring him here. Throw him in the crypt and lock the door behind him. Do not hesitate to use force if you must, but do not kill him. Understand?"
"I understand, and obey, my Lord," Hrimthurs said.
"How is the Lady Starlet?" Bahamut asked, worried about the time she had spent with the traitor alone.
"She seems depressed ever since her return, and barely leaves her room. She is there now."
"I am going to see her, and I do not wish to be disturbed under any circumstance."
Hrimthurs stood looking dumbly at his Lord for a moment.
"You have your orders, now leave me and find Lucius!" Bahamut bellowed, stalking out of the oppressively small space of the dungeons.
Hrimthurs jumped, then bowed mutely and lumbered off into the darkness to fulfill his mission.
Satisfied, Bahamut left his Esper servant to his task, and went to find Starlet. The rage of betrayal threatened to consume him, to turn him further away from his fading humanity. He needed to bask in the warm, healing glow of his wife, and forget the horrible crimes he had committed against his own conscience in these recent days. She may not be Maria anymore, but he was not Draco, either. Maria would never have been able to calm the wild anger of the Dragon the way Starlet could. As Espers, they were made for each other, just as they had seemingly been made for each other as humans. The god that had created their new life as Espers may be different from the one that had given them life as humans, but their love was the same, and nothing could break that eternal bond.
Tonight I will sleep beside my wife, and we will be one, as we once were. We are no longer humans, but something remains of our human hearts...and desires.
Be careful, my Herald... Doom's voice echoed through his servant's thoughts. You are no longer humans, and you cannot indulge in human pleasures so easily now. The results may be...unpredictable, even to myself. I will not forbid such things, but I will not be responsible for their consequences, understand?
"I hear and obey, Master," Bahamut said, only half-listening to Doom's intrusion. As he approached Starlet's private chambers, a very human longing was growing within him, and, at least for tonight, the will of the gods meant nothing to him. Lucius's betrayal had affected him profoundly, and he needed something that his Master could not give him. Something human.
Bahamut...I hear your voice in my mind. Starlet's voice rose inside Bahamut's mind. When the two were close, they could hear each other's thoughts, and she knew why he had come to her tonight. Come to me, and we will soothe the anguish that is in both our souls tonight.
"I am coming, my love."