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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 2: The Goddess War

Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star

Part 10.7 - Red In Tooth and Claw

"Back wish ush now?"

When the haze of madness cleared, Lucius found himself staring into the bloodshot eyes of Dragonetti, the famous fire breathing Stradivari of West Jidorik. Next to him towered the mute Hammer, Dragonetti's faithful companion and fellow Stradivari. Both men were looking at him with concern, and even a little fear. Whatever happened after he sent his message must have been unusual indeed for these two mercenaries to look so shaken. But it appeared his call had been answered, and they had rescued him, so they weren't his betrayers after all.

"Drunk as usual, Dragonetti?" Lucius said weakly, trying to put his usual face back on.

"No other way t'be," Dragonetti said. "What about you, Molitor? You were acting pretty down'n the cups yourself for a while there. Laughin' your arse off for three days straight, you were. Scared poor Justine practically dry."

"I...don't remember," Lucius said slowly, carefully. But he did remember some things. Things that changed everything.

Dragonetti studied Lucius for another moment, then straightened up and backed away with a slight lurch. "Yep, you know shomeshing. Can't fool ush, Molitor, you know that."

Hammer tapped his wizened friend on the shoulder, his eyes looking off in the distance.

Dragonetti nodded, looking in the same direction as Hammer. "No matter, Marylebone'll make you sing like one of hish girls soon enough. C'mon, we need to keep moving. Lot's o' monsters about these days." Dragonetti looked over his shoulder quickly. "Plush, the Red Fangs are still on our tails."

For the first time, Lucius noticed that there was blood splattered on Dragonetti's already crimson-dyed leather clothing. Hammer, too, had blood stains on his thick padding, and his beloved sledgehammer of mythril, Claire, was also covered in blood and some thick, green substance.

"Where are we, and where do you plan on taking me?" Lucius asked warily. Despite being a member of the Stradivari himself, he knew they did not trust him quite yet. He was too new, too quiet, and had his fair share of secrets he refused to talk about with them. But they knew he had valuable information about the strange new players appearing on the world stage, and more importantly, he fit the requirements for membership. Yes, he was a Stradivari in spirit, that much they knew for sure, and thus, Molitor was born.

Lucius looked around him, trying to place his surroundings. He had no idea where they were, but it looked like they were resting in a clearing on the eastern outskirts of Glastok Wood. Smoke was rising over the trees behind them, and on cue the howling of a pack of hounds rippled across the open space. Lucius suddenly felt very exposed.

Dragonetti glared at Lucius while taking a quick gulp from one of his flasks. "Hear it, doncha? Your lovely king hash sent the wolves after us, an' they're mad as hornets. We've killed a dozen o' them, but he keeps sending 'em, an' they're getting madder eash time. I expect this pack has an alpha in it, and we're vulnerable here, in case you haven't noticed. We'll talk once we reach the Medina. C'mon!"

Dragonetti quickly turned away from Lucius and stomped off into the trees in the opposite direction from the wolves and smoke. He was amazingly agile for an old drunk, and was gone before Lucius even got to his feet. Hammer waited until Lucius was on his way before joining them, backing away into the forest with his Claire readied in both hands.

"Hyah!" Dragonetti cried out from the foliage after a few minutes.

Lucius stopped abruptly, trying to see what was going on. A huge fireball erupted from several yards in front, and then something squat and bulbous flopped out of the dense underbrush. It was charred and squirming with the last spastic energy of death, but Lucius recognized it immediately. It was one of the weird creatures that had started appearing in Jidorik ever since the Dragon King returned.

This particular oddity was simply called a crawler by the locals. Slimy, green and the size of a large, fat snake, they were bloated caterpillar-like abominations that usually attacked in groups from underground. It was impossible to track them down, since they somehow managed to leave no trace of where they had been or where they came from. One moment a person was walking in a field, the next, they were surrounded by a sudden explosion of venomous feelers, needle-like teeth, and thousands of stubby, scaly, feet. Everywhere these reptilian worms went, they devoured and destroyed whatever was in their way with their acidic slime. When they were gone, so too was whatever had been unlucky enough to encounter them.

A sickening splat from behind signaled that a second crawler had been dispatched by the steady arm of Hammer. As Lucius whirled around in anticipation of further ambushes, he saw Hammer's massive Claire dripping with green slime, and an unidentifiable pile of entrails and flesh bubbling where the creature had been. Its acidic green blood fizzed and burned, eating its way straight through the ground. The resilient mythril head of Claire seemed unfazed by the poisonous ooze, however.

"Keep back, Molitor!" Dragonetti's voice echoed from in front.

Lucius had time to see a wave of grubby appendages rise up in front of him before he was whisked into the air and out of the worm's reach by Hammer. Another swing from Claire and the third crawler exploded in a shower of deadly green pieces. A few shreds touched his ragged robe and instantly dissolved the threads away.

"What a joke! A Stradivari that can't fight!" Dragonetti's voice sounded again from in front. Another flash of flame sent two more blackened shapes rolling out of the brush, then all was quiet except for the wolves again.

A moment later, Dragonetti himself reappeared, unscathed, but angry. "What was Marylebone thinking letting you join ush?"

"My weapons are not as brutal as yours, but they are deadly all the same," Lucius replied,a hint of irritation in his voice. "I wait patiently and strike from afar with well-placed plans. Knowledge is power, my friend."

Dragonetti snorted, letting off a short flicker of fire with his alcohol-infused breath. "A Stradivari ish lethal in any situation. If ya can't keep yourself alive, then ya don't deserve the name."

"I sent for you didn't I? And here I am, alive and well, thanks to my plans." Lucius stared down the drunk with his level gaze. "How much of a fight could you put up without your precious ladies, I wonder?"

"Grr...you can inshult me all you like, but don't bring Justine and Juliette into thish. I wash a soldier long before you were even born, whelp!" Dragonetti placed his gold and silver flasks back into their holsters at his side and put his wrinkled hands up in fists, ready to fight. "C'mon, then! Let's see which one o' ush ugly dogs ish the meanest!"

Lucius had no intention of fighting the old drunk, and made no effort to prepare himself against Dragonetti's advances. He simply stood still and watched the man stagger towards him, balled fists waving in an unpredictable, but undoubtedly practiced motion. The old man had seen the inside of many bars, and surely participated in just as many brawls.

The patient Lucius would not be goaded, though. He had faced far greater opponents than this fool and survived. There was no fear, nor any discernable emotion in his flinty eyes as he stared his opponent down. Dragonetti stumbled and slowed in hesitation, then licked his thin lips and smiled.

"Oho! Something up your sleeve, Molitor? Lesh just see, eh?" Dragonetti stumbled another step forward, close enough for Lucius to smell his sickly-sweet breath.

As Dragonetti advanced, a giant red-backed form leaped out from behind Hammer and hovered in the air between the two brawlers for a split second. Dragonetti leaped back with amazing speed, but Lucius remained motionless. Hammer already had Claire out and ready, and before the thing could even reach the ground he batted the giant furry mass against a nearby tree with the same speed as the leaping Dragonetti. There was a yelp of surprised pain, then the creature slumped down against the tree's trunk. It was a Red Fang.

"Dammit! They're here!" Dragonetti cursed, spitting a smoking wad of phlegm on the ground as he prepared his throat for another round. "I wouldn't mind seeing some o' these plans of yoursh in action, Molitor!"

"Get to the Medina, and we'll be safe. They won't cross the river." Lucius calmly replied, finally moving.

"Wha? They can shwim just ash well as us, better even! And my flames won't work too well over water, you know!"

"Just make for the river." Lucius had already passed the irritated Dragonetti, and was moving as fast as his crippled body could carry him.

Dragonetti spat again, unlatching Juliette once more. "Hammer, make sure Molitor makes it to the river. I'll keep these scurvy mutts busy!"

Hammer nodded grimly, and ran quickly past his partner. In a few seconds he had caught up with Lucius, snatched him up in one thick arm and continued onward to the edge of the woods.

"Here doggy!" Dragonetti crooned in his cracked voice. "Come and get your dinner, heh!"

Two Red Fangs jumped out of the forest, followed by what could only be the leader of the current pack. It was more than twice as big as the other two, and had a starving, half-mad look in its burning, deeply set eyes. The huge, muscular back was lined with streaks of grey fur in between the matted red fur that so distinguished the Red Fangs. Old scars and bite wounds covered its body, and there were several teeth missing from its gigantic maw. Thick envenomed drool poured from its mouth, and wisps of steam rose from its violently shaking frame. Dragonetti had seen plenty of Red Fangs before in his tenure at Glastok Castle, had even trained them when he was younger, but there was only one like this. This was the alpha male of the alpha males, known as the Red Baron, finally sent in to finish the job its pathetic offspring couldn't handle. The situation must truly be desperate for the Dragon King to send the most prized stud of the kennel out.

"Hallo, Baron, remember me?" Dragonetti said, holding out Justine and Juliette at his sides, ready to strike, but with a fatherly look in his ravaged face. There was only one Red Baron, and Dragonetti knew him at once. This wolf had been the strongest of the Red Fangs, even back in the days when Dragonetti was their trainer. The wolf had aged just as wretchedly as his old trainer over the past thirty years, but was still just as dangerous as well.

The creature growled slowly, carefully sizing up the prey that had been so much trouble for the others. Its head ticked to the side in a convulsive motion, and it snapped at one of the smaller wolves at its side without provocation. Both Red Fangs on either side lowered their ears and stepped back, cowed by their massive leader.

If Baron recognized his former owner, he did not show it. The only thing on the monstrosity's face was a malevolent glare, twitching with barely contained madness. The old wolf was practically insane in its extreme age, which made it all the more unpredictable and deadly.

The old man knew that look well. It was the look of a dog gone bad, its mind snapped and all training forgotten. There was no way to control them when they turned, and he had put many of the beasts down at the first sign of this madness. It was a natural side effect of the intense breeding program that produced the super-predators, but Dragonetti was still sad all the same to see its effects in the abyssal eyes of his old companion.

"Time to put you down, friend." Dragonetti said heavily. He stepped closer to the wolves, and a shudder of uncontrollable rage rippled through Baron.

The beast launched itself forward with a cloud of dust and spittle, its wide jaws aimed directly at its former master. Dragonetti let loose a quick but intense fireball from Justine while rolling to the side. Baron caught only a mouthful of flames as he landed where Dragonetti had been. If the mad hound felt the pain of the fire, he did not show it.

With another powerful leap Baron tried to crush the old man, but once again he spun out of the way in an ungraceful, but effective lurch. This time the fiery counter hit the wolf square in its chest, scorching the hair there black. But still, it showed no signs of feeling pain.

Back and forth the two danced, Dragonetti's breath gradually lighting up the surrounding greenery until the clearing was walled in by a raging forest fire. The two other Red Fangs slowly circled the combatants inside the ring of fire, eagerly waiting for the kill. For the moment, though, the two were evenly matched.

"Hellfire, you're ash thick-skinned as ever!" Dragonetti panted, running out of breath. "Gonna hafta do this the old-fashin'd way."

Instead of dodging Baron this time, Dragonetti stood his ground. Just as the wolf's shadow covered him, he flicked a tiny lever inside Juliette's flintlock cap and swung the flask at the belly of the monster like a metal knuckle. A short dagger shot out of the bottom of the flask, while at the same moment an aura of flames encircled Dragonetti's hand. He had doused his own arm in Juliette's flammable contents, and turned his hand into a burning fist.

With the strength of a much younger man, Dragonetti's fiery knuckles slammed into Baron's descending chest, erupting in a burst of orange light as he connected. The monster still showed no signs of pain, but there was no ignoring the sound of cracking ribs and the smell of burning flesh. Dragonetti used the force of the impact to bounce himself away from the oncoming Baron, and watched as the beast landed shakily on its feet, then lost its balance and fell to one side. The look of madness never left its face.

"Dammit, Baron, stay down!" Dragonetti shook his arm to get rid of the stinging pain of the impact. Drops of blood flew off his arm, some Baron's, some his own.

But Baron would not, perhaps could not, stay down. Despite its injuries, it struggled to its feet and charged Dragonetti. The old soldier was ready, and side-stepped the charge while delivering another devastating blow to the side of the wolf's face as it passed. There was no pain in Baron's half crumpled face as it slowed down, but there was a deep grimace on Dragonetti's. He had broken his hand with that last blow.

"Hellfire," Dragonetti muttered again, dousing his other hand in Juliette's deadly contents. There was a visible dent in the golden sides of Juliette, and the hidden switchblade was broken, but still deadly sharp. "Ach, it breaks my heart to see my lady like this," he said sadly, preparing his tired body for another assault.

Baron meanwhile was moving visibly slower after the second blow. One swollen eye was shut tight and bleeding, and several more teeth were missing from the right side of his still-grinning mouth. The convulsive ticks were more pronounced now, and there was even less sign of coherent thought in the creature's insane features.

"Grah, what has that monstrous Esper done to ya, Baron?" Dragonetti said, studying his old friend. "You're as mad as he is now."

The dog answered with another mindless attack, and received another blow, this time straight against his thick skull. There was a sick crunch, and Dragonetti knew he had landed a fatal blow straight to its brain this time. His heart sank in his wiry chest as he watched the convulsing beast twist and snap at invisible enemies only it could see. Its mind was completely gone, and rather than land the killing blow, Dragonetti merely watched as the pathetic creature stumbled drunkenly back and forth.

But Baron still did not stop its assault. It tried to mount another attack, but could not figure out where it was, or what it was fighting anymore. It staggered near one of the impatient Red Fangs waiting on the side, and unexpectedly lunged at the poor beast, ripping a huge chunk of meat from its side. The dog howled in agony, and then slumped down in a bloody heap. Baron swallowed the meat whole, then gave a half bark that abruptly stopped in a gurgling groan before turning into a disturbing yipping sound like laughter.

The other Red Fang saw the way the battle was turning, and tried to go up against Dragonetti himself. The old man was worn out, but not so much that he couldn't give the foolish pup a sure sign where it belonged. A quick, steady river of flames from Justine sent the terrified dog running and yelping back into the woods. A new sound, rising out of the burning forest like an avalanche, told Dragonetti that the time for escape was at hand.

One last look at the stumbling, stuttering Baron, now on flames but making no attempt to save its own fading life, was all the disgusted Dragonetti could afford as he vanished into the glowing wall of fire around him to join his comrades at the Medina. It was a sad end to a magnificent creature, much like the state of all West Jidorik these days. The Dragon King's madness was spreading to every inch of his kingdom, and there was nothing to do but flee before his unstoppable rampage.

"Damnation, what a mesh..." Dragonetti muttered, and was gone.

The Red Baron was dead by the time a great darkness flew over the clearing and landed, putting out the blaze with a powerful burst of cold wind from wings as black as night. A mutilated form dropped from clawed hands onto the scorched earth next to the burned and beaten Baron. It was the routed Red Fang, now dead as well and barely distinguishable as an animal after returning to its master empty-handed. Bahamut surveyed the disastrous scene, and roared with the same uncontrolled malice as his half-mad canine hunter. In an instant he was up in the air above the forest, blasting the last vestige of Glastok Wood to ashes with his blue fire while he looked in vain for the contemptible humans that had frustrated him at every turn.

There was only one place they could be headed, but it was the one place Bahamut was not permitted to go. The Medina River was the barrier between the dominion of Chemosh and the dominion of Astarte, and warded off all unwelcome magical beings from entering East Jidorik, or ascending into the Zozo mountains to the north. With a frustrated growl, Bahamut turned and flew back to the castle.

Soon, though, that barrier would no longer matter. His army of human slaves would march across the enchanted waters unimpeded. They would drain the river, sack the cities of the East, and force the Goddess to show herself. Then her Herald would come, and the true battle would begin. Yes, Bahamut was ready for that day. With Scion in hand, he would strike Leviathan down, smash the Goddess statue, and claim all of the Jidorik region for his own.

As Bahamut wheeled through the air above the castle, he could feel the freezing winds of Cocytus whispering through his mind, promising a world of absolute order, frozen in ice.

Forever.