~x~

Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 2: The Goddess War

Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star

Part 10.6 - The Hammer Falls

Lucius felt the cold breath on his neck moments before he felt the steel grip on his shoulder. He had watched that massive hand of the condemner grip hundreds of shoulders just like this. He knew what it meant. And now it was his turn.

"The King has summoned you, Doctor," Hrimthurs said.

The hand gripped his shoulder tighter, and forced the crippled man to turn towards the entrance to the dungeons.

"I have been summoned to the dungeons?" Lucius replied without emotion.

Hrimthurs remained silent, but Lucius saw out of the corner of his eye a lopsided grin full of thick, yellowing teeth.

So this is it. No chance of escape from this beast, from this place. How was I betrayed? Was it Maria? ...no, impossible. But Starlet...? If I am truly to die here, I must know who killed me. My dream will not die with me, it is too far along for that, but my betrayer will. But Maria...are you truly gone?

Lucius tried to find an answer to the whirling maelstrom in his thoughts., but there was none. The gods worked in mysterious ways, and it would seem that in this case, he would have to take his predicament on faith. He had made many friends and enemies during his stay here in Jidorik, but he had been careful, so careful, and done his best to prevent this very scenario he now found himself in from happening. Only one person knew who he really was, only one could have pierced his armor of subterfuge and espionage.

Maria, Maria, Maria...only you...

The gods, the Espers, the West, the East, the North, and even the South...he had contacts everywhere, plans upon plans, people and Espers alike doing his bidding without even realizing it. Only the gods were above him, but the Espers worked through the gods. Perhaps his Esper contacts had been using him even while he was using them? Did they really think so little of humans?

I will show them my power, even as I die.

Lucius whistled a strange tune as he hobbled down into the dungeons, away from the light. It was musical, but without melody, like the chirping of crickets at night. Hrimthurs looked at his prisoner with a dull expression on his blue-skinned face.

"What are you doing?" Hrimthurs said.

Lucius stopped whistling, and smiled. As he did this, he revealed one of his scarred hands from his robe of rags, and shook it like a man flicking filth from his skin. All Hrimthurs saw was the nearly complete circular scar on the back of his exposed hand, its pale flesh shining like a crescent moon in the dimming light. Like a magician, Lucius hid his true intent from the giant ape. While his extended hand flourished, a small beetle-like creature dropped from the upper folds of his sleeve, flying quickly to its unknown destination unseen and unheard.

"Enough games," Hrimthurs said impatiently, shoving Lucius hard enough to send him reeling into the dank walls of the dungeon stairwell.

Inside, Lucius was fuming at the brutal Esper, whose coarse demeanor he had despised since their first meeting. But outside, he remained his usual husk, rising and continuing down, down, down into the darkness without a further word or whistle. The deed was done, and now he would see if this particular contact had been his betrayer.

If it is humanity that sent me to the gallows, then I will know in a few minutes. Let us see if the Stradivari are as high-minded as they claim. I shall test their wills, their commitment to my dream. If silence is their answer, then I will know I stand alone, and will go to my grave with the peace of knowledge...knowledge that was not Maria who killed me, but my own people. If humanity deems me not worthy to be saved, then I will die knowing humanity itself does not deserve to be saved, either from the gods, or from themselves.

While Lucius awaited his answer, Hrimthurs continued to push him further down into the dungeons. They had long since left behind the regular cells, still marked with the talented architecture of the upper parts of Glastok Castle. Here, the floor was nothing but packed dirt and grime, the half-cobbled walls no more than simple rocks piled on top of each other with a child's skill. From everywhere chillingly fetid water oozed like blood, half frozen into a greenish-blue slush that seemed to glow in the almost complete darkness. And it was cold, far colder than it should have been, even this far under the earth.

Soon, the condemned man was deeper than he had ever been, deeper than he had suspected these halls could have possibly went. Here there was no light except for the strange green-blue slime that covered everything with its faint shimmer, blue and distant, but pulsing like the life force of some hidden giant. The further down the sloping tunnel he went, the more he felt like a tiny germ, crawling inside the veins of some vast creature. Just where was this loathsome Esper taking him?

An eternity later, Hrimthurs stopped, and pointed just ahead. Lucius could see nothing at first, the darkness was near-total, but gradually a thick, iron door coalesced out of the black earth, the blue slime flowing and pulsing all around it. Indeed, it was pulsing out from the door like the rays of a web, as if all the intricate lines that had coated this subterranean world had been spun from whatever lurked beyond.

"What is this?" Lucius asked, a cold sense of doom stealing over his thoughts. "Just where are you taking me?"

"Keep walking," was Hrimthurs only response. He gave Lucius another shove. But Lucius was already moving towards the path's end, propelled by a force greater than the insignificant Esper behind him. It was the lure of the abyss...the force of madness.

I can feel something behind that door...it feels so familiar... Yes! It feels just like the streets of Narsille on that day. It feels like death, but the death of the crypt, not the inferno. Haha, am I back? Will these walls fall away and will I find myself back on the flame-lined streets of that city? Was my escape all a dream? Ha, yes, a dream...a horrible, twisted nightmare that ends where it begins...like the scar on my hand, a circle of pain that never ends. Ha, ha, ha...

"Heh," Lucius hiccupped, his normally collected step devolving into a drunken lurch. "Ha...Ha, ha, ha..."

Hrimthurs watched Lucius wander towards the end of the crypt, his presence completely forgotten. Just as the Esper was about to reach out and stop the stumbling man, the voice of his Master spoke up inside his mind, its power freezing him in place like a puppet whose strings have just been yanked taut by its unseen mover.

Let him come. Stand watch, and do not let anyone disturb us.

"I hear, and obey, Master," Hrimthurs said, entranced.

"HAHAHAHAAA...," Lucius gurgled incoherently, his body in the icy crypt, but his mind back in fiery, doomed Narsille.

Doomed...yes, I am walking to my doom. Doom, doom, doom! HAHAHA!

All thoughts of escape were gone from Lucius's mind now. All that was left was the never-ending nightmare beyond the door. He knew what he would see when that gateway to another world opened. He could already feel the heat, taste the ash, see the blood...

And the smoke...everywhere that creeping death, trying to drag him down into Hell...

I am coming home.

As Hrimthurs watched obediently, the great iron door swung backwards and vanished into the emptiness behind it. A moment later, the mad doctor vanished along with it, laughing all the way.

That was the last thing the Esper saw before he was struck hard from behind, his vision blurring with the force of the blow. The strike was massive, and sent Hrimthurs sprawling forwards on his hands and knees, blue blood trickling from the back of his head.

"Who...," he stammered, trying to turn and face his stealthy attacker.

The moment his head turned, his eyes were greeted with a blinding flash of liquid flames. It felt like a bomb had just exploded in his face, and he howled with pain and confusion in the darkness. The fearsome noise was silenced almost immediately by another terrific blow to the side of his head, this time knocking him out.

"Well thash wash easier thaneye shought it would be," a sharp, wheezy voice said with a slight slur. "But where ish Molitor? Hic!"

The owner of the voice was a wiry-framed old man with a tangle of dirty grey hair flipping about his bald head, and an even longer tangle sprouting from his chin and ending in a fork like the tongue of a snake. He wore a thick leather body suit died ruby red, the same color as his blood-shot eyes and flushed face. There was a snaggle-toothed grin on his face, and a dribble of dark fluid trickling from his mouth and staining his serpentine beard. He lurched to the side much like Lucius had a moment ago, and burped. The man looked, and in fact was, very drunk.

Next to the old drunkard was a giant of a man almost as large as Hrimthurs. His body was a balanced mixture of well-toned muscle and thick fat, and his emotionless face was covered by a thick black stubble. His head was completely bald. The man also wore thick leather padding, but carried the heavy burden with a grace unlike his hunched, arthritic friend. His expansive, hairy chest was exposed, but strewn across it diagonally like a sash was a belt of large stones each the size of a man's head and strung together with a thick rope. In his beefy hands he wielded a gigantic hammer as tall as himself and with a head of solid mythril, covered with intricate designs and words in an unknown language. The man looked as barbaric and savage as Hrimthurs at first, but he carried himself with a quiet humility that was in stark contrast to his crude companion.

While the drunkard cackled and stumbled blindly down the tunnel, the giant extended the blue head of his hammer, letting its soft natural glow light up the pit just enough to see.

"Shanks, Hammer, but I've got thish, heehee!" the drunk man stuttered, taking a large swig from a flask at his side. There were actually two flasks at his sides, strapped to his hips by a sturdy belt. One was made of gold, the other of silver, and both had flintlock caps. Like the giant's hammer, the flasks had intricate designs and words etched into them. Two names could be seen clearly written into each of the containers in Jidorik script - Juliette on the gold flask and Justine on the silver.

"Awright Justine, no time to be shy!" the old man said with a mouth full of alcohol. He held the silver flask just below his lips, as if to kiss the edges of the container's mouth. Instead, he spit out the alcohol in an amazing spray, while flicking the flintlock cap shut with a loud snap. A swath of burning liquid flame filled the frigid hallway with a firm, but steady light, then guttered out on cue. While he was breathing fire, the old man held a torch beneath the flames, and when the ball of fire was extinguished, the torch still glowed brightly.

The giant Hammer looked at his companion with a rueful gaze, but lowered his hammer and followed him down the strange hall and into the retreating darkness beyond.

"Shweet Justine wasn't made for places like thish," the old man said quietly, wiping his lips and surveying the otherworldly passage the flames of Justine had exposed.

"Perhapsh Juliette would have been a better choish," he said thoughtfully, his voice wavering, but not from drink. "Thish place smells of death, and oh how Juliette loves death! Heehee, hic!" The old man was practically crooning as he talked about his beloved ladies always at his side, but he was scared all the same, and talked mindlessly to keep from being infected with the insanity of the realm around him. "Gentle Justine always seems to finds her way into places like thish...but Juliette ish the strong one...yesshir! Hell itself is her fire! And thish ish hell awright! Eh, Hammer? Eh?" he continued rambling on, his voice getting higher as he approached the black void a few feet away.

Sensing his friend's troubled state, Hammer hefted his weapon onto his shoulder and put one great hand on the quivering man's shoulders. Saying nothing, he stepped ahead of the old man and fearlessly walked into the room at the end of the hall. Seeing his friend's resolve, the drunk man did his best to sober up, and marched in behind him, stifling a growing urge to break out in maniacal laughter.

The first thing the two men saw was the statue. They had had no idea what to expect going in and were prepared for the worst, but the towering statue of rock and bone, twice the height of Hammer and in the shape of some unholy devil, was still enough to make them stop and stare. Its four reaching arms were all bent downwards toward a rag-covered object standing as motionless as the statue, but only a third of its size.

A complicated array of pulsing blue energy spread out from the skeletal base of the statue, filling the room with dancing waves of death. It would have been beautiful if not for the grotesque source emanating that cold aura, and the foreboding sense of some great malevolent mind guiding it outwards into the surrounding dirt and stone. Standing firm against the tide of menace was the ragged statue of a man, as silent and unyielding as the devilish statue.

"Molitor!" the old man yelled out, recognizing the ragged robes of the man they had come to rescue on the human-sized statue. He could not tell if the man was still alive or not...but they had gotten his message, and would do whatever it took to fulfill their mission and rescue one of their own. Even if it meant descending into Hell and fighting the devil himself. It was the Stradivari way.

The man stood silently in front of the giant statue, his hooded head turned upwards at the grasping hands. Neither moved, but a battle seemed to be taking place, a battle of pure will between the ragged man and the mighty statue. The old man yelled his name again, but was unsure if he should try to disturb whatever was taking place between them. He was entirely too old for such acts of suicidal heroism, and continued to study the frozen scene in front of him to see what he should do.

Sensing the invisible struggle, Hammer walked calmly forward, reaching for his hammer as he strode up to the two combatants. There was no doubt in his mind as to what he should do. There never was. Hammer was as decisive as his companion was careful and measuring. Hammer was as solid and predictable as the rock, and the drunkard was the fluid stream of unpredictability that flowed around him. Their attitudes complimented each other perfectly, which was why they never were seen apart.

Without a second thought to the consequences, Hammer let his mighty mythril sledge fall on the statue. Blue and white sparks flew from the impact, and the entire crypt shook with palpable anger at the intrusion, but the statue did not falter, or even crack. The pulsing blue lightshow quickened to a maddening pace, and suddenly the man at the statue's base screamed in a cracked, inhuman voice.

The man cried out unintelligibly, straightening his body out like a man being stretched on a rack. It was impossible to tell who was winning the fight, but it seemed to be reaching its climax.

"Enough!" the old man yelled out, running up to the stunned Hammer. The shock of the blow had reverberated up his muscular arms like a thousand stinging needles and sent him stumbling backwards into the gloom. "Hammer, what the hell were you thinking?" he said in a perfectly clear voice, stricken sober with terror. "Grab Molitor and get the hell out of here while we still can!"

Hammer nodded dumbly, his head ringing like a struck bell. He tried to grab the agonized man, but he couldn't. The man was rooted in place as firmly as the giant statue. Hammer looked back at his companion with helpless eyes. The veins stood out on his bald head, and sweat poured down his brawny arms, but the slender man in rags would not budge.

"Aw, hell!" the old man shouted in despair, grabbing both his flasks like a pair of pistols. In one fluid motion he brought both Justine and Juliette to his lips, embraced them heartily, and spit a magnificent splash of rainbow-colored fire at the demon statue. The volcanic eruption of heat and flame was intense, and threatened to burn the old man's face just as surely as his immovable target, but such was always the risk with this particular technique.

Like when the statue had been struck by the mighty Hammer, the crypt shook with rage. This time, however, the shaking did not stop, and the cold blue lines of force wavered and began to drip and blur out of their predefined paths, like melting water. Afterwards, the old man would swear it was the wavering heated air playing tricks on his vision, but as he gazed through the twin flames of Justine and Juliette, he swore he saw the rotted half-face of the statue turn towards him in a hate-filled grimace. That death mask carved in stone would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

The two opposing elements clashed for a full minute, and in the end, fire won out over ice, and a loud crack resounded through the crypt. The ragged man fell backwards as if he had just been released by an invisible leash, and immediately began howling with an ugly laughter.

While the old man continued to breath his brilliant dragon's breath over the statue, a quick glance at Hammer told the giant all he needed to know. "Now!" the glance said with unmistakable urgency.

Hammer understood perfectly, and when he reached for the maniacally laughing man this time, his emaciated body was as light as a child. Hammer hefted the man over his shoulder with one arm while still holding his weapon in his other, then fled the apocalyptic lightshow inside the crypt with surprising speed.

Without looking at his retreating companion, the old man backed away from the increasingly blurry inferno he was creating as fast as he could, never letting the wild blast of multi-colored fire abate for a second. Everything seemed to be melting around him, even the earthen walls themselves. It was as if the entire crypt was made of ice, and was in danger of collapsing on top of him. As he backed out of the room, he could still see the face of the statue glaring at him through the haze of flame. The statue was still whole and unbroken, but whatever power it held in that place of death had been dispelled, at least for the brief moment he had filled it with the hated flames.

The two men did not stop even as they clambered over the hulking form of the unconscious Hrimthurs. The old man breathed fire as long as his seasoned lungs could hold out, keeping their egress both lighted and heated all the way down the outer hall. When his fire finally went out at the other end of the hallway, the old man had to stop and catch his breath. Hammer stopped as well, watching for any sign of a counterattack. The two both stood still for a brief respite, recovering from the scene they had just witnessed. On Hammer's shoulder, the ragged man was still laughing uncontrollably.

"Ach, what's hish problem?" the old man said between pants, squatting down and taking a satisfying draught from the golden Juliette. "Did 'at shing in there break Molitor's mind or summin?"

Hammer shrugged, as bewildered at the usually stoic Molitor's current condition as his friend. His only answer was to raise his hammer towards the exit.

"Yah, you're right. No time for pointless queshons. Lesh beat it!" the old man put Juliette at his side, and stood up, cracking his aching back.

The two resumed their frantic rush out of the dungeons and back to the world of the living. Above them, the castle was in an uproar. Apparently their antics below the castle had not gone as unnoticed as they had hoped. Shouts from both humans and Espers could be heard everywhere, and above it all the roaring wrath of the Dragon King.

"Heh, I doubt my bresh could shtand mush of a chance against that one's fire," the old man said, his old drunken glee returning despite the dire circumstances. "We gotta get out of here wishout being sheen by him, or we're done turkeys, hic!"

Without a further word between them, the two reached the entrance to the dungeons. There was a clot of human soldiers already rushing down the spiral staircase, but a single one-handed swing from Hammer sent the group tumbling backwards. Several other groups of humans tried to block their path, but against Hammer's strength and the old man's flames, they fell like tinder.

The two knew they were more than a match for any amateur human fighters, they were elite Stradivari, after all, but they knew an Esper would not go down so easily. They had the advantage of surprise against the ape Esper, but there would be no surprising any Espers in this state of high alert. And if one particular Esper showed his face, they would be doomed.

By the time they reached the castle halls proper, it was pure chaos. Every inch they took was a hard-fought battle against rapidly growing opposition. They had seen no Espers yet, but knew there must be a few lurking about, waiting to put a swift end to their escape.

The old man knew the layout of the castle well, having once been a soldier here, decades ago. Little had changed since his youth except its inhabitants, and he knew all the secret passages by heart, even ones that were no longer in use and sealed up. It was one such passage they had used to infiltrate the castle, and now it would be another they would use to make their timely escape.

"Hammer, here!" he yelled over the din of battle, pointing at an unassuming life-sized portrait of a former king.

A single powerful hammer blow later, there was a gaping hole where the portrait used to be, leading down into a dark passageway forgotten by the castle's current generation long ago. Another hammer blow sent the freshly opened hole tumbling back down, sealing the passage against any would-be followers.

It only took a few frantic minutes of groping through dank, cobweb infested hallways to reach the outer wall of the castle. The old man's memory had remained true, even through his drunken haze, and they were safely outside Glastok Castle. Both men breathed in the clean air and let the daylight wash over them, cleansing them of the putrid world they had climbed out of. They both smiled, knowing they were past the most dangerous part of their mission.

"Sho far, sho good!" the old man wheezed, taking a moment for a well-deserved drink.

Hammer pointed towards the Glastok wood impatiently, motioning to keep moving.

"Yah, yah...coming master, hic!"

Just as the two were slipping under the protective foliage of the woods, they saw a massive shadow spread out across the fields around the castle. There was no mistaking that silhouette, or the rain of blue fire that scorched everything around it. The Dragon King had joined the search.

"Damn, can't even catch a breath," the old man said sadly as he returned Juliette to her place at his hip.

Seconds later the forest erupted in a blaze of explosive magical heat, and the spot where the men had stopped was burned to a black, smoldering hole. But the two mercenaries were already safely hidden from view, and well on their way to the borderlands between West and East. All Stradivari were masters of stealth, and despite their appearance, the giant and the drunk were no exceptions.

In the coming days, almost the entirety of Glastok Wood was to be razed to its roots by the wrath of Bahamut, but no trace of the two unknown intruders or the traitor Lucius would be found. More than a few unfortunate human soldiers were fed to the statue of Doom as punishment for their failure, and the remaining soldiers were dismissed from the castle, to be used as fodder on the front lines of the coming war.

Bahamut saw that he had no use for humans now, and was convinced that none of them could be trusted after Lucius's actions. The Jidorik he was building would be one of Espers only, forever. His Master, as enraged at Lucius's escape as his Herald, agreed, and soon a new dark age of subjugation was to fall over West Jidorik. All humans would now be expected to either fight to the death on the frontlines, or give themselves to Chemosh as sacrifices. The blessed few that were deemed worthy would become Espers.

Even Bahamut's trusted human advisor Farin was ushered out of the castle without ceremony, despite decades of loyal service to the Dragon Throne, regardless of who or what sat on it. Along with Farin, the twins Aquilas and Leonora were banished as well, although this was done without their father's knowledge. In an increasingly rare act of maternal instinct, the Lady Starlet feared that her children would not be immune to their father's hatred of all things human for much longer, and spirited them away in Farin's arms one cold night. It had not hurt her as much as she thought it would, and that lack of pain was a clear signal to the conflicted Esper queen that her human half was losing ground to the unflinching persona of Starlet.

As Starlet looked out of her window at the great blasted expanse that once had been Glastok Wood, she wondered how much longer it would be until she was a mindless pawn of her Master. Maria still surfaced once in a while, and Starlet still felt a sharp pang of loss in her stomach, where there would always be a bright red piece of humanity and her children burning fiercely against her cold Esper flesh. But with the good Doctor Atma now gone from her life, Maria had seemingly given up her tenacious hold on her humanity, and was fading fast into oblivion. He had been her only real connection with her former human life, and without his tireless efforts to keep the woman Maria alive inside of Starlet, she had lost much of her will to live.

Besides, she had a new charge to look after in this crazy, new world of magic. Another child had been born to her and her husband, one that he had taken an instant liking to. Yes, this would be the true heir to Bahamut, the King of Dragons. After one magical night filled with a very human passion that she had thought she would never experience again, a miraculous new life had been created before their very eyes. The tiny being had appeared between them, fully formed, fusing their essences in a single instant of magical creation.

A similar process had occurred between Starlet and Bahamut months ago to create the living statue that would become the bodily reincarnation of their Master, Chemosh. But that had been a loveless thing, purely mechanical and ritual. An empty vessel, capable of holding the essence of their Master was all that had been created in that cold union.

This time, the shared human love and wills of the male and female Espers had combined with their magical energy in a new way, and created something wholly unexpected. Coiled in her lap as she watched the smoke of coming battle rise outside her room, was a small dragonlet, no bigger than a garden variety lizard. But it was complete otherwise, and only needed time and energy to grow to its true size and majesty. She had no idea if it was an Esper like herself, or something else...but it was alive, and it was her offspring, and both her human and Esper sides cried for its bleak future.

"My little Kaiser, what kind of world have I created for you?"