A/N:
OH MUH GAAAWD THIS CHAPTER. Sporks, sporks, SPORKS. And also-how. Look at that word count.
For those of you who don't read my profile...this marks the first update on major fic since my hard drive crash. No joke, it died TWO DAYS after I posted the last chapter of this story...and I have been...rebuilding ever since. Sigh. The delay for this chapter is almost entirely due to hard drive failure and data loss...the other...is writer's block. Honestly, the weirdest spurts, too.
This chapter should also be entitled: everything Mythweaver hates about plot holes. And anything resembling a hole with plot in it. Be glad you were spared the late night blatherings, and angry chats, and dramatic emails about all such things.
Also, you can all thank Moonclaw for keeping me...moderately on task. Because half the random crap...no. I digress.
This was also a case of-this got so long it had to be split again. Honestly. The next few chapters will be HUGE.
On that note, please bear with me. I feel like I'm running around with a butterfly net catching stray plot threads...
AND it may be a sign that I've been watching too much Fringe, but whenever I imagine Kokkol, I imagine Walter Bishop...
About hyphens and dashes-I can't seem to get MS Word to cooperate with me, and for reasons I am too lazy to google the answers for, the auto-formatting is NOT WORKING with this install. If you see a hyphen in the middle of a sentence or a dialogue scene, it was probably supposed to be a dash. If it's in the middle of a word...it's probably actually correct, lol.
Also-RAIN! Oh, how I have missed you! Now COME BACK.
Also, please to be ignoring a faux pas on my part that I refuse to identify...unless you've already caught it-in which case, this is me letting you know that I know (I'm going to laugh when I notice the visitor counts for that chapter suddenly skyrocket as you all go back to find it).
Thus begins the span I like to call-Cecil's Grumpy Period. Much like Picasso's Blue Period.
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The Tower Awakens
There were few sounds so profound as silence. It was a useful companion for the introspective mind that craved solitude; but a curse when there had been time enough for introspection-when doubts had whittled themselves to obsession.
Many long hours had passed since they'd left the Sealed Cave miles behind them, buried in the haze of shimmering underworld heat. They had finally reached the path that cut through the plateau leading to Tomra, and Rydia glanced at her companions, knowing that the effects of her spell had worn off long enough for someone to have broached the matter at hand. But in the aftermath of Kain's second betrayal-no one seemed to want to.
She wondered if she had made a mistake in using her magic upon her friends. On Cecil's account, she felt terrible, as she knew his silence was spent in contrition for everything that had transpired since they'd left the caverns. But on Edge's account, she found herself wondering why she'd never cast upon him sooner. She had seen the battle being fought inside his head as his expressions flipped from one to the next; as he no doubt conjured up all the words he had wanted to say but could not. She decided, in the end, that it had been her only recourse-the only acceptable option to prevent tension from turning to violence. Even after the spell's affects had worn off, he had remained stubbornly silent; and, she noticed, nursing his right arm, which he refused to have Rosa mend-though she doubted if the mage would bother.
What would become of the four of them once they arrived in Giott's court? Would there be a parting of the ways? Would Cecil and Edge decide to tolerate each other long enough to carry on? She strode along the rocky pathway, trying not to allow her worries to gnaw at her.
The world could be doomed, but they were still walking forward. Whether this was only the calm before the storm, or the wings of hope that propelled them onward, she wasn't sure. For all she knew, they could be venturing to their deaths...
They finally stepped out from under the plateau's mighty shadow with Tomra only a few miles ahead. Rosa brought them to a halt, her hair sticking to her forehead in unruly strands.
"Water," she croaked out, pulling her canteen from her side and removing the stopper from the spout. She lifted it to her lips, but only a few scant drops issued forth. Rosa sighed deeply, and Rydia stepped forward, understanding immediately.
She had chanted the incantation often enough, that she barely had to think on it anymore. She spoke water out of the air, allowing her hands to be the basin, and let the life giving liquid flow between her fingers and into Rosa's canteen. She continued to chant, the melody of the spell rising and falling like a miniature tide, as she conjured more water into her hands, siphoning it into the canteens of the others.
When she had finished, she received appreciative looks from her companions, before she set off to find a place to rest her feet. The ground was still wildly uneven and strewn with boulders, and Rydia tucked herself away, facing the flat field where Tomra stood. She had had enough of the pointed looks, the guarded expressions, and the unspoken arguments. She needed time to straighten out her own thoughts, her own guilt. Had she turned Cecil against her for choosing to leave Kain behind? Did he despise her for intervening after Kain's desertion? She took a few swigs of water from her canteen, and it felt overwhelming on her parched throat. She coughed, and her throat burned uncomfortably at the aggravation. She sipped more cautiously the second time, allowing herself to savor the cool taste of the water on her tongue, and after a time, found herself reviving from the severe heat.
She gazed at Tomra, and then to the north. How far was the Tower from here? Had Kain already reached it? How long would it take for Golbez to set his plan into motion now that he had obtained all of the crystals? What was Golbez going to do with them-with all of that raw power?
She stared until her eyes lost focus in the endless mirage of the magma sea that glowed on the horizon, never too far away. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since the four of them had paused to rest, but the moment she had made up her mind to return to the others, she sensed someone approaching from behind. She glanced up and saw Edge appear at her right, sitting down beside her without a word. His presence startled her, and she glanced behind her-how long had he been there? She drew her brows together, glancing at him sideways, but his regard was far afield, and not on her. Eventually she relaxed, and they eased into a companionable silence. It was several minutes before he finally spoke.
"You're worried about what's going to happen next?" he asked.
"I'm worried that we don't know what's going to happen next," Rydia answered, staring at her hands in her lap. "What will Golbez use the Crystals for? What are we even still doing?"
Edge looked at her very seriously for a moment. "Out of everyone involved in this up till now, I would have thought that the three of you would know."
Rydia laughed. "Hardly," she replied. "And now that Kain has defected—again," she faltered, feeling a wave of despair creep into her throat, choking off her words. She felt his hand on her left shoulder, and stiffened, looking sharply at Edge. He was looking back at her evenly; no guile, no tell-tale smirk on his face, and he held up his other hand as a gesture of peace.
"It's okay," he told her, pulling gently until she relaxed and leaned against his shoulder.
She felt her heart flutter unexpectedly, and strove to ignore it.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
She heard his sharp exhale, what might have been a laugh, and she craned her neck to look up at him. "Who else is going to comfort you?" he asked simply.
Comfort, she mused. Was this truly comfort, to be with the man she so often disdained? The man who had turned all her most recent decisions on their heads? She rested her cheek against the sleeve of his shirt, against the hardness of his arm, and she wondered at it.
Here they were in the belly of the earth, the crystal lost to them, betrayed again, and she was sitting beside the man she wasn't sure she understood—his arm around her, and she leaning against him. What were they doing?
"I'm scared," she admitted, after several minutes of silence.
"I don't blame you," he answered.
"What, you're not scared?" she asked curiously.
He didn't answer for a moment, thinking. "I prefer to be scared only of what I know, not what I don't understand."
She considered his answer. "That doesn't make any sense," she decided.
He laughed quietly. "I'm not afraid of the unknown—just wary of it. The future isn't always bad."
"This is bad," Rydia concluded.
"This is problematic," he corrected her. "There's a difference."
She shifted so that she could look at him again. "How so?"
"We can still figure out a plan," he answered, staring off into the rocky terrain as if he
were doing just that.
"A plan," she repeated, trying not to laugh. "Is everything so simple with you?" she asked.
He smiled grimly. "He has to have a weakness somewhere; and I dearly hope it's Kain, because I'd very much like to thrash him."
Rydia couldn't help but roll her eyes. "And you're not just telling me this to make me feel better?" she wanted to know.
"Maybe a little," he admitted with a small smile.
A strange thought crossed Rydia's mind, and she found herself wanting an answer. "Is this how you comfort all of the women who've ever graced your company?" she asked wryly.
He pulled away, looking at her anew. "You wound me," he announced.
"Why don't you ever comfort Rosa?" she asked, sitting up straighter, and arching a brow. "Or have the conversations with Cecil that you have with me?"
"They have each other," he said and frowned, as if this was obvious.
"So what am I, your project?" she inquired.
He flashed her a wicked grin, his gray eyes sparkling with mischief. "Someone has to make you their project," he replied.
She pursed her lips, a none-too-pleased expression on her face. "I'm fine—you don't have to go out of your way," she declared.
He sighed, resting his hands on his knees. "You are a difficult woman."
"Oh?" she asked with an arched brow. "Because I can take care of myself?" she said, inching herself away from him.
He glanced at her, skeptically. "Sulking by yourself is your idea of 'fine'?"
"I was perfectly fine before you interrupted my thoughts," she protested. "This isn't some way for you to worm yourself into my—affections, is it?" she asked.
"Depends," he answered. "Is it working?"
She shoved him away in disgust. "Not at all. Keep your sympathy," she retorted, standing up and striding away.
She walked until he was lost to view, and when she finally stopped to take several steadying breaths, she realized she had stumbled upon Rosa who was sitting alone.
The mage had tear stains on her dirt-covered face, and she looked up at Rydia with accusing eyes. Rydia stood still, staring at this version of her friend, a version that startled her.
"Rosa?" she asked quietly.
Rosa hastily wiped the tears from her face and attempted a smile. "Rydia, I-wasn't expecting you," she said.
Rydia frowned, scanning the area with her eyes. "Where's Cecil?"
Rosa flicked her gaze to the left and right, feigning to search for him herself. "He said he needed to clear his head. He wanted time alone," she added with a stifled sob.
"Do you want time alone?" Rydia asked, studying Rosa with concern.
Rosa nodded, and then, thinking better of it, shook her head.
Rydia looked away, wondering how to proceed, and then glanced at Rosa again, before walking over and kneeling down beside her. "Were you thinking about Kain?" she asked softly, keeping her eyes on the ground.
She heard Rosa conceal another sob with a laugh. "I know-" Rosa said with force. "I know your opinions of him."
Rydia caught Rosa's gaze for a long moment, and felt a pang of guilt.
" A part of my mind understands why you would do what you did-why you would leave him behind," she continued, looking away. "But please, don't judge Cecil too harshly. He was our friend, a man with a life of good and noble deeds. Do you judge him solely on the few and not the whole?"
"Rosa, I-" Rydia tried to interrupt her.
"I couldn't take arms against him-I couldn't," Rosa said instead, staring at her own hands as if they had betrayed her. "He has always been there to clear my path, he and Cecil. To see him in danger, even from himself... Even when I was in the Tower of Zot, and he was my captor, I saw glimmers. Forgive me, but I-I refuse to believe he is lost to us, even now. The magic of Golbez is powerful, and I-" she faltered again, and looked at Rydia seriously. "I wish I could have your objectivity, Rydia," she told her, and Rydia felt her throat constrict. "I wish I had your strength to be able to do what is necessary. We're at war-and I need to stop seeing it as a simple journey, as some path to somewhere else, where everything makes sense again, where the people I lost are made whole again. This is a battle for life or death. How many lives have we endangered by letting him escape with the crystal?"
Rydia felt tears pool in her eyes, and reached out to grip Rosa's hands with her own.
She had no words to comfort her friend. She had no recrimination and no answers. Instead, she sat beside Rosa as the tears took over, and her friend buried her head in her hands-overwhelmed by a deep and abiding grief.
It was a long while before Cecil returned and Rosa had regained her composure. Edge had materialized once again as if out of thin air, looking at Rydia with bemusement, which she promptly returned with a scowl. There was no discussion to take place before they left the plateau behind them, continuing toward Agart.
They had almost arrived, when Rosa finally spoke, breaking this second silence.
"Cecil, that sword-" she said, pointing to the ancient scabbard tucked into Cecil's belt beside his other weapon.
Rydia's eyes followed Rosa's finger, and Cecil glanced down as well, as if forgetting the sword was there. His hand brushed against the hilt, remembering.
"There was something-" he said, clearing his throat. "-something that I remembered. The sword reminded me."
"The sword you received from Mount Ordeals?" Rosa inquired.
He looked ahead. "Ever since I climbed that mountain and endured the Trial, something has been clawing at the back of my mind," he said. "Something I'm meant to do."
Rydia looked at their leader as perplexed as she was sure Rosa felt. What did he mean by that?
"It's nothing but a puzzle for me to figure out, Rosa," Cecil assured her, looking at her over his shoulder.
Rosa gazed back at him, questioning, but soon enough, they had walked beneath the village gate of Tomra, and were preoccupied by other distractions.
They re-stocked their supplies, and asked for directions, though the dwarves looked highly surprised to be seeing the four of them again. The fact that they were one less in number was only of minor interest. Had the dwarves known all along that the Sealed Cave had been a trap within a trap?
When they had acquired all they needed of the dwarves, they prepared to leave, but not before they were pulled aside by the same dwarf who had given them directions the first time. "Tha' mission the king sent ye on," he asked, his expression stern as ever. "Did ye find wha' ye were lookin' fer?"
"No," Cecil answered, looking the dwarf squarely in the eyes. "We did not."
The dwarf nodded, and looked at each of them. "Nah surprised," he said with a heavy sigh, walking them to the village gate. "Well g'luck ta ye."
Cecil clenched his jaw, but had little more to say to the dwarf, so it was Rosa who said departing words on his behalf. They left the village behind, returning to the Falcon where it had been grounded.
Rydia was aware of the shift in Cecil's mood and kept her distance. Everyone, including Rosa, gave the paladin a wider berth. Cecil returned them to the air, and they flew until he began to fly them erratically, futilely searching for land. His long white hair was damp and sticking to his neck, and sweat glistened on his skin. Rydia glanced at him from time to time, concerned that he might make some fatal error in his fatigue.
"We're lost," Edge remarked close to Rydia's side, echoing her thoughts. She flicked her gaze to him and then over the ship's railing. None of the land beneath them looked familiar, and Rydia knew they would have to set down soon to regroup. She walked to the opposite railing and peered over the side. She recognized nothing below them as the dwarf territory they had previously traveled, but as she squinted into the distance, she saw signs of life nonetheless. Perhaps they wouldn't have to be lost for long.
"Cecil!" she shouted to the helm, and pointed. "There's something down there!"
Cecil looked in the direction she had indicated, and nodded, turning the ship's wheel until the nose of the Falcon was pointed in that direction.
It took less than an hour to find a place to land the ship, and once they had, they realized that what they had seen from the air was nothing more than a stone house with a few outlying buildings.
"What is this place?" Edge asked as they walked toward the main building.
Rydia shrugged, looking from side to side. "I have no idea," she admitted.
"We're only here for directions, anyway," Cecil grumbled, stepping past them to knock at the door.
They waited several minutes, but when nothing happened, Cecil knocked again-more forcefully.
Rydia crossed her arms, searching for windows.
"No one seems to be home," Rosa decided after several more minutes had passed and no one had come to the door.
Cecil frowned. "That's odd. There's smoke coming from the chimney."
Edge took a few steps back and looked up. "Why is there smoke coming from a house in the underworld?" he asked.
"That is unusual," Rosa admitted. "But either they have no desire to entertain guests, or they must not be at home."
"Let's return to the Falcon," Cecil said finally, turning away from the door. "We can try to figure out where we are from there. Here, we're only wasting time."
Rydia was reluctant to give up so soon, but she joined Cecil and the others by the time they had reached the gate of the small estate. Just then, the sound of a heavy door swinging open on its hinges brought them to a stop. They looked over their shoulders and saw a dwarf wearing little but undergarments standing in the doorway.
They stared at the dwarf for an awkward moment, and he stared at them as though they too were wearing little more than undergarments.
"Humans?" the dwarf asked, and then grabbed onto the doorframe as he leaned over to call to someone else in the house. "Ser! Humans are here!"
An instant later, an older gentleman holding a pair of metal tongs in one hand came to the door, peering out across the courtyard.
"By the-" he fussed, brushing his soiled work apron ineffectually and then running a hand through his scraggly white hair. He vanished for a moment and returned without the tongs. "By Odin's beard, I never thought I'd be seeing humans here!" he said, ambling across the courtyard toward them. He took hold of Cecil's hands, bobbing his head nervously. "Come in, come in!" he told them, pulling them to the doorway, and causing the confused dwarf standing there to step aside to allow them entry.
They were directed through a front hall and into a workshop that smelled of metal and oil. There were several blacksmithing tools littered on the stone work tables and a few discarded scabbards and sword hilts. The deeper into the room they plunged, the more oddments they saw. Rydia noticed several half-completed suits of armor sitting in corners gathering dust, and beside them, counters sparkling with gems in dozens of colors.
"Never mind the mess," the man assured them. "Come upstairs-share a meal with me."
Rydia caught Rosa's same perplexed look, but they followed the strange man to the second floor of the building. Once there, they found themselves in a quaint sitting room with more of the same delicately carved furniture they had seen in other dwarf dwellings.
There were only three chairs, but Rydia elected to sit cross-legged on the floor, and Edge leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.
Cecil and Rosa took chairs, and the strange man took a seat across the small table from them. He stared at each of them in turn and then patted his knees. "Now tell me-how did the four of you end up in the land of the dwarves?"
Cecil nearly laughed, and they all looked at him sharply, wondering what could possibly be so amusing.
"War," Cecil replied. "What else would bring us here?"
The man hummed. "A fair enough answer," he reflected. "But a war with whom? Surely, not the dwarves against the upper kingdoms."
"The entire world is at war-we came here to help turn the tide," Cecil explained.
"And did you?"
Cecil sighed, growling really. "No."
Rydia noticed the man looking at her, his gaze lingering a moment on her hair. She blushed, self-consciously, but just like that, his regard turned to someone else.
"That is a shame indeed," he announced. "I thought I saw all manner of flying contraptions, but had no idea why they were here. I see that you have one as well. Such curious devices! I once knew a man who dreamt of such things when he was young. I never thought I'd live to see the day when they'd be built and operational!"
Cecil raised a brow. "As it happens, we know just such a man," Cecil informed him, and then paused, frowning. "Sir, you never told us your name."
"My name?" the man looked uncomfortable. "Names-" he mused. "Brands that doom a person from birth to death. My name-it's irrelevant."
"You're Kokkol, aren't you?" Edge asked from where he stood near the wall.
"The smith!" Kokkol cried in response, slamming his fist on the tabletop. "And a damn good one, once!"
"You're the smith the dwarves mentioned," Cecil realized.
Kokkol groaned, and stood up from the table. "My name used to mean something! I was among the great pioneers in metallurgy-taught the Baronians to hone their weaponcraft, and I fashioned blades that could be fitted to a person's hands in Fabul. I even traveled to Eblan to learn of the ore they mined there and their forging techniques.
Rydia and the others glanced at Edge suddenly, surprised by this small piece of information. The prince stiffened, and looked at Cecil coolly, not divulging any more information.
"Ah, but I've lost my touch!" the smith complained. "I've made nothing but shit for a decade! Can't make my armor extraordinary-and the edges of my weapons used to sing. Now they are nothing but pitted blades fit for nothing more than a welp's first practice session. I came here in search of secrets I thought I'd missed. I came to this underworld in search of metal and mineral-ore! I found some of what I was looking for, but there were imperfections, and the results were-they are..."
"I don't understand," Cecil said when he realized the smith wasn't going to complete his thought. "How did you get here in the first place? How long have you been here?"
Kokkol scratched his beard, pouring himself a cup of tea, and fiddling with a pot on what looked to be a stove. "It took nearly five years to coil together enough fiber to make a rope that would reach the floor of the underworld. A mile of rope, I believe; no, maybe two."
"Two miles of rope?" Rosa was aghast. "You climbed down?"
"That part wasn't difficult," he said with an absent wave of his hand. "Strong arms, you see. But the heat damn near killed me."
Rydia looked at the man anew. How had a human survived in such harsh conditions for so long?
"How long have you been here?" Cecil asked.
"Hard to say, since the sun no longer tells me the time. I would estimate that it's been ten-fifteen years?"
The pot on his stove began to bubble and he hopped up to tend to it. Rydia looked at the pot for a moment and then had a peculiar observation-the house was comfortably cool despite its lower work room and the stove. For that matter, where had he found water?
The smith lifted the pot from the stove without a mitt and set it upon the stone counter. He rummaged through a cabinet and discovered four bowls, into which he poured his stew.
He handed a bowl to each of them, and they stare at the food, dumbfounded.
Rydia swirled her spoon in the mixture and found that it was oddly-verdant. She looked up at the smith, and he appeared nervous, watching his hesitant guests poke at their food.
"Oh, I assure you, it's perfectly edible," he said.
"Are these real vegetables?" Cecil inquired, lifting what seemed to be a peapod on his spoon.
"Of course they're real!" the smith insisted. "I can't tolerate dwarf mush much farther than I can spit it."
"How have you found plant life that grows down here?" Rosa wanted to know.
"The Sylves have many a precious commodity," Kokkol answered, shrugging. "They conjured water for me as well, enough to fill several drums that can last me for many months."
"The Sylves? They all but ran us out of their cave," Rydia pointed out.
"That's strange," he said, looking directly at her. "You look like one of their kin with that green hair of yours. They're really quite lovely. I've had years to gain their trust. Had to, you see."
Reassured that what they were eating was palatable, they eagerly ate what they were offered. Kokkol studied them with steepled fingers pressed to his nose, and when Cecil set down his bowl, the smith pointed to his armor.
"That's one of mine," he said critically. "The dwarves have so many precious gems just lying around, I had to try my hand at finding a new use for them. Do you find the breastplate too constricting?" he asked, gesturing at Cecil's chest.
Cecil looked taken aback. "No, in fact, I find it perfectly comfortable."
"The straps look too tight in the shoulders," the smith fussed, as he stood to inspect Cecil's armor more closely.
Cecil pushed his chair away from the table and kept the smith at arm's length. "It's really alright-the armor fits fine," he objected, and then frowned when he noticed something else had caught the man's attention.
"That sword-" Kokkol said, awed, reaching out for the scabbard tucked into Cecil's belt. He swept it out of Cecil's keeping with the deftness of a swordsman, and inspected the scabbard, turning it backwards and forwards. Then he stepped back and drew the blade.
"Sir, my weapon-I'll be needing it back," Cecil protested. "It has significant meaning to me."
"I'll say, m'boy," the smith answered absently. "And I might add that you've no idea what you're carrying," he said as he read the inscription on the blade and hurried down the stairs to the work room below.
Cecil hastened after the smith, and the rest of them followed, pursuing him to the back room.
"Sir?" Cecil inquired anxiously, seeing the smith take the sword to an anvil.
Rydia glanced at Edge, whose mask was tugged below his jaw. He had a smug look on his face, almost as if he was enjoying Cecil's dilemma.
"We truly only came for directions," Rosa protested, trying to gain the man's attention.
"Who needs directions when you can have enlightenment instead?" the man quipped.
Cecil stepped forward and snatched the old sword from the anvil while the smith's back was turned.
Kokkol whirled in dismay, seeing the sword back in the hand of its owner. His eyes were alight with a bright and feverish admiration.
"You received that blade from an Ancient One, didn't you?"
Cecil straightened, his jaw clenched.
"An-Ancient one?" he asked, guardedly.
Rosa turned her face to Cecil, a question on her lips. "I thought you said-"
"Why has all of this, from the moment we left Baron until now, been connected by some strange thread?" Cecil said, suddenly exasperated. "The crystals, the moon, this sword-is there some explanation for all of this?
"I have no idea in hell as to half of what you just said," the smith announced. "But as for that sword-if that metal is the metal I think it is, then its history is just as ancient as the Tower of Babil."
This got Rydia's attention, and she stared at the blade anew. She had heard of it, of course, but never seen Cecil carry it. What had Kokkol meant when he said it was as ancient as Babil?
"What do you know of this sword?" Cecil asked, almost defensive.
Kokkol beckoned for the sword, and Cecil reluctantly handed it over. "There were tales of several legendary weapons crafted long ago," the smith explained. "Perfectly balanced, edges that never dulled, and the purity of the metal used to make them was unparalleled. Generations of smiths have gone looking for them, in the hopes of being able to duplicate such masterpieces. In all these years, all that we've been able to learn is that the metal used to make them are from a rare ore that can only be found after meteor showers."
"Meteor showers?" Cecil asked.
The smith nodded. "Adamantite. Of course, finding a fallen meteorite, and then refining it is a process far too complicated for the forges in the upper kingdoms-and believe me, we've tried. I brought what scant quantities of it I had here, to the land of the dwarves, but alas. My methods were ineffective, and I've run out of the ore."
"But that doesn't fully explain the history of this sword," Cecil reminded him.
"Ah, you see, that sword has a certain lustre to it; the metal itself is beauty to behold. I can tell just by looking at it that no human hands crafted it.
"No human hands?" Rosa asked curiously.
"Which leads me to the Ancient Ones," Kokkol carried on, cradling the sword across his arms until he'd set it atop his anvil. He picked up a small hammer and began to tap on the blade from guard to tip, listening to the pitches. "No one knows precisely who they were or where they came from, but they left a number of things behind when they vanished. The Tower of Babil, for one; the Serpent's Road, another. This sword is inscribed with letters I've only seen in Mysidia, and only rarely, mind you. Rumor had it that the Mysidians deciphered some of the ancient texts left behind; deciphered and interpreted it. This looks to be something the Mysidians could explain to you."
"The writing is a legend," Cecil said slowly, as he watched Kokkol continue to inspect the sword. "A legend of which I seem to be an integral part."
Kokkol looked up from his anvil and squinted at Cecil. "I thought you looked a bit odd," he remarked. "If that's the case, then the Ancient Ones must have a gift for foresight-or a sense of humor."
Rydia frowned at the smith, and looked at Cecil, wondering how much more abuse he was willing to tolerate. Cecil did indeed look piqued, but before he could open his mouth, the smith had diverted their attention again.
"This sword, while well-crafted, is incomplete. This metal is missing its alloy."
"Excuse me?" Cecil asked.
"This sword has the potential to become greater than it is-if only I had more adamantite! I'm not even sure if those wily eyed tail-obsessed traders still have any like they once claimed. Not that I could ever reach Silvera again," he lamented, handing Cecil back the sword.
Cecil returned the sword to its sheath, slipping it into his belt with authority. "You've enlightened us," he said. "Now, we'd like directions."
The smith eyed Cecil shrewdly, and then looked at the rest of them, clucking disapprovingly. "You'll get nowhere with heat stroke. You need more water in your bodies, and you should rest for the time being."
"We really don't have the-"
"Time?" Kokkol interrupted him. "Never met a man who could fight a war while suffering from fatigue. My workers will be able to set you on your way after you've rested."
"But sir, we really couldn't intrude," Rosa tried saying.
"Nonsense!" Kokkol replied. "You can stay in the store room. It isn't much for sleeping, but it'll do you for the night."
Hearing the smith say this, Rydia suddenly remembered every sore joint and muscle in her body. How long had it been since they'd last gotten any sleep? The few minutes stolen here and there, and on occasion, the hours divided among watches? She realized it hadn't been since they'd stopped in the Sealed Cave, and that must have been days ago, already.
"Very well," Cecil answered. "We accept your hospitality."
"Splendid!" Kokkol announced, leading them out of the main building and toward one of the side buildings on the estate. He opened the heavy door and they were blasted by a wave of cool air.
"The Sylves and their wonderful magic!" Kokkol explained, stepping into the store room and fumbling for a lamp. Once he'd found it, he set it aglow, and the four of them saw a room lined with dried herbs and leaves, and bundles of plants tied together with cord.
So this was what he'd meant by the Sylves having many strange and wonderful things, Rydia thought to herself, as they walked into the room.
"I don't have any bedding, and for that I apologize, but you folk seem to have everything you need."
"We do, thank you," Rosa informed their host, and with a nod, he turned to leave.
"Oh, and those drums in the corner-" he added, looking at them again. "They hold water. Drink your fill."
Rosa smiled and thanked the smith again, and he finally left them in peace.
Rydia found herself a corner between two shelves and propped her pack against it, pulling out her bedroll. It had been a strange evening, but interesting all the same.
Mysidia and Cecil's sword. How were the two connected to the same people who'd built the Tower of Babil? The same tower that now housed the crystals?
She heard Rosa speaking quietly to Cecil and glanced over at the two of them.
"-will be fine," Rosa had said, though Cecil looked less than convinced. Rosa lifted a hand to Cecil's cheek. "I'm sure the dwarves will be alright for a few hours at least," she assured him.
Cecil turned his head away, and began to unpack his own bedroll, ignoring the stricken expression on Rosa's face.
Rydia's heart reached out to her friend, but she didn't wish to intrude on their privacy, such that it was. She noticed Edge sitting on the opposite side of the room from her pretending to be preoccupied with his pack. He looked up at her when he sensed her gaze upon him, and she hurriedly looked away. After her last conversation with the ninja, she wasn't keen on revisiting what they had already discussed. His regard still made her nervous for reasons she didn't understand.
The night was spent in Kokkol the smith's storeroom, and by the time they'd all awakened, and drunk from the drums after filling their canteens, the smith and his dwarves walked them back to their airship.
Just before they climbed aboard, Ermenrich, one of his dwarf assistants, pointed to a rise in the landscape.
"Thar ye follow, an' keep straigh'," he told them, giving hand gestures and signals, that Rydia was having a hard time understanding.
Kokkol seemed to notice she wasn't the only one. "There's a ridge over that way," he explained. "Keep that on your right and the magma bay on your left and hold that line. You should find yourself at Giott's stronghold in no time."
Cecil shook the smith's hand. "Thank you."
"Aye, thank you. Haven't had a chance to admire such workmanship in a sword for decades. Good luck with that war of yours!"
Rydia frowned at the smith's lack of priorities, but followed Cecil up the plank to the ship.
"If you find any of that ore I mentioned, bring that sword with you," Kokkol shouted up to them. "I can make a weapon that will make even the stoutest enemies cower with fear."
"Thank you for the offer," Cecil shouted back. "If we ever come this way again, I'll seek you out."
Rydia wondered if that was true. Would they ever be returning here?
The airship rose into the air, and they left the smith far beneath them. Cecil obeyed the instructions given to him by the dwarf, keeping the ridge on his right and following the course of the magma bay. They flew for hours, the brilliant glow of liquid earth a constant light beneath the airship. Finally, after much doubtful discussion on whether or not they were off-course, solid ground appeared ahead of them. Rydia had been lost far too often in the underworld to give too much to hope, but as they drew nearer, she saw the square masonry of a fortress, and then the parapets. They had found Giott at last.
The Falcon was landed in a nearby plain, and they approached the castle cautiously through a line of tanks. The gates were opened before them, and they were ushered across the castle and into the throne room to find dwarves wearing heavy armor standing at attention on opposite walls.
Rydia saw score marks on breastplates; damaged chain mail, bandaged limbs, and noticed a generally bleak mood upon the room.
They walked before the king, who looked tired in the eyes. His daughter Luca stood at his side, glancing up at him in trepidation.
No one said a word for several minutes and then Cecil withdrew something from his belt-something Rydia couldn't make out until he held it up for all to see. The key to the Sealed Cave.
The king's expression fell as he nodded to Luca who hesitantly retrieved the key from Cecil's outstretched hand.
"It is as I feared," the king said gravely, as he took the key from his daughter and twirled it between his fingers. His eyes took on a peculiar cast as he stared at the key and nothing else. A moment later, they were focused on the four humans.
"One of you is missing," he observed.
"We suffered a loss, yes," Cecil replied, his tone dreadfully flat.
"And the crystal as well," the king added, flicking his gaze to a dwarf standing to his right who promptly rushed off with unspoken orders.
Rydia noticed Edge bristle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"We lost the crystal to Golbez as well," Cecil informed the king, his voice hitching with remorse.
"I've had to recall my tanks," the king informed them with no small amount of annoyance. "The tower has changed in the last few days. It's become shielded, and has repelled our cannon fire."
"Shielded?" Edge asked.
"All of the crystals are there," Rydia realized, "It's like having all of the world's power in one place."
"The tower is impervious," the king acknowledged with a nod. "We can't go near it. Not unless the rumors are true-that there exists somewhere in this world a machine that can break through its defenses."
Cecil drew his brows together. "I don't understand," he said. "Why would such a machine exist?"
The king began to pace on the dais. "Because it was made by the same people who built the tower. Only that which is made out of the same elements and with the same skill, should be able to breach the tower's defenses."
"You said these were only rumors, but where did you hear of them? I've never heard of a craft or machine such as this until now," Cecil objected, having a hard time believing the king's words.
"There are elements, you see," the king said. "Elements not natural to our world. We've found them buried in the strata of the earth-substances from what we believe to be another world, maybe even from the moon. Our ancestors encountered these elements long ago, as well as a race of people who sought this element as if their very lives depended on it. It was these people who built the tower. We helped, you see. It is recorded on our most ancient tablets. It took two hundred years to build; rooted as it was to the earth, and its pinnacles in the realm of the gods. But out of the tower, was born another vessel made of the very same stuff, as it were. There were drawings left of its construction and a note left in the ancient carvings-'birthed from womb of dragon's maw'," the king explained, shaking his head, and forgetting the rest of his thought. "After the tower was built, however, there was no sighting of the vessel nor of the people who built it. You said the man Golbez was trying to open a path to the moon? Seek out this vessel-if the tower and it were made by the same race, you may be able to circumvent him."
Cecil nodded slowly. "Those are the same words in Mysidian legend," he realized aloud, crossing his arms in thought.
"Mysidia-you know of it?" the king was quick to inquire. "I thought it was mere rumor as well."
Cecil shook his head. "No, it is the capital of mages on the surface world-a holy city."
The king's brows crawled together with incredulity. "You mean to tell me it is real?"
"Very much so," Cecil assured him. "Their elder has confined himself to their tower of prayer, where he prays for us even now."
"He prays, you say? I wonder-"
Cecil frowned, not comprehending. "What is it?"
"Prayer twined with magic and faith can do remarkable things. Perhaps he is trying to revive the vessel of legend and finish the work begun by the ancient ones so long ago. You should seek out this elder and learn what he knows."
"But the passage to the surface is sealed now," Rosa pointed out.
"And we have no way of reaching the surface with the tower barred to us," Edge added.
The throne room doors opened with a clatter behind them and everyone turned to look.
Cid strode through the room, bandages still wrapped around his arms and legs, and the singed portions of his beard growing back in unruly patches.
"It's a good thing you people have me!" he declared, coming to a stop at Cecil's side. He looked everyone up and down. "The hell?" he asked, noticing a certain person's absence with a loathsome sigh. "Damn, that bastard."
He turned his attention to the king. "And what's this about the tower being impenetrable?"
"Cid," Cecil stammered, unable to fathom the engineer's energy in his current state.
The engineer waved him off.
"You should be abed, master engineer," the king answered with a wry smile.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead, now what's this about the tower?" Cid demanded.
"The crystals have all been collected by Golbez. They shield the tower's defenses now, and not one of us can get through it."
Cid rested his hands decisively on his hips. "I can attach a drill to the Falcon's bow. You should be able to burrow your way out to the surface," he added, speaking this last to Cecil.
Rosa glanced at him critically. "But your wounds-have they healed?"
Cid growled. "We've got bigger things to worry about than a few scratches on ol' Cid!"
Edge looked at him incredulously. "You really think you can do it?" he asked.
"Think?" the engineer scoffed. "I'm Cid-there's nothing I can't do!"
"What do you require?" the king asked, nonplussed by Cid's antics.
Cid rattled off items that Rydia did not recognize, but the dwarves did, and several of them departed the room at the king's nod.
"A drill?" Cecil repeated.
"Yes, and we're wasting time-let's get to work!" Cid announced.
They looked at the king, but he nodded resolutely. "Go!" he told them. "I have nothing else for you!"
With the king's blessing, they followed Cid out of the throne room and returned to the Falcon. Cid was speaking to Cecil quickly, nodding and grunting as Cecil answered his questions along the way.
"That spineless idiot!" Rydia heard Cid shout unexpectedly as they passed beneath the castle's portcullis and onto the rocky ground surrounding the dwarf fortress.
"If Golbez wasn't such a silver-tongued bastard with a penchant for mind-control, I'd blame Kain all the more. As it is, all I can say is-damn him to hell and back again and may Golbez hope he never sees my hammer descending on that pointy ass helmet of his."
"Cid," Rosa scolded, glancing significantly at Rydia.
Rydia couldn't see the expression he made, but she certainly heard his groan. "Oh, for crystals sake, Rosa. She's a grown woman, now. This is a war we're fighting, not a tea party!"
Rosa countered his complaint with an icy stare.
Cid grunted and looked at Rydia over his shoulder. "I make no apologies for Kain being an ass."
Rydia shook her head, trying to fight a smile. It was just like Cid to lighten the mood, as entirely inappropriate as it was.
They finally boarded the Falcon and Cid shouted directions to Cecil. "Land this as close to the east wall as possible," he instructed.
Cecil flew the ship low, churning up clouds of red dust. Rydia covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve as Cecil hovered the ship in unsteady sideways lurches. When the landing was accomplished, an armada of dwarves on the battlements began to hoist metal shafts across the gap between the ship and the castle until they'd made a scaffolding of sorts. Rydia disembarked with Rosa, watching Cid boss the dwarves around with a commanding finger. A drill? She wasn't sure exactly what Cid had in mind, but at least the next few hours would prove entertaining.
0-0-0-0-0
Hours had passed, stretching long and tiresome until Rydia's boredom could no longer be abided. She had returned to the battlements at the airship's side, watching the work underway. She admittedly knew nothing of airships-they were a science completely unknown to her. Her people were of magic and nature and the ethereal planes, not mathematics and science and the architecture so essential to each craft. But she also couldn't help but find them fascinating. Cid went to work on the Falcon like a man whose lost love had been returned to him. He rattled off such words as jiboom and bowsprit and starboard so fast, it sounded like its own language. Fortunately, Cecil spoke the same language, for he followed the engineer down one length of the ship to the other, taking measurements which he then called loudly to Cid who had unfurled a long sheet of parchment on the decking, writing down numbers and notes.
Rydia watched from her perch, bemused. It had taken no small amount of skill to join efforts with the dwarves and make the modifications feasible. Cecil and Cid had been busy for hours alone figuring out calculations and speaking with the dwarves.
But when this too, proved not to hold her interest, she crossed her legs and drew the satchel she had at her side onto her lap, reaching inside for its contents. Before leaving the Feymarch, Black had given her an assortment of tomes to peruse. She took out the one she had been reading most recently, puzzling over a few of the more difficult invocations to help pass the time. Rosa joined her a few hours later, standing with her arms crossed.
"How are they doing?" she asked, sitting down. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and Rydia knew she had been crying. She equally knew it was impolite to draw attention to the fact.
"Cecil has been giving Cid measurements," Rydia explained. "And Cid has spent a lot of time cursing at Edge who keeps insisting that Cid's design is flawed-something about gravity."
Rosa raised her brows and inspected the scene herself, her expression baffled.
"This does not surprise me," the white mage murmured with a frown.
Rydia glanced at Rosa, but the other woman did not seem to be in the mood for conversation. Instead, they sat side by side while the men hoisted ropes and tore open the ship's hull, making all sorts of commotion.
After a time, even Rosa grew disinterested and left; and Rydia returned her eyes to the old characters penned into her most recent tome. The illustrations danced in the light of the magma; golds and bronzes flaring to life in all their minutia. She discovered this to be a difficult spell, with nuances in rich supply. The melody of this spell was longer, more complicated than the others she had learned; where the slightest error in tone and pitch and resonance could tear her spirit to pieces. She spoke the next line of incantation, keeping her voice flat, invoking no power. Then she sounded each syllable out, then each phrase, and then repeated it twice as fast until it flowed together like a continuous thought.
"What are you doing?" she heard Edge ask, and the unexpected proximity startled her. She momentarily lost her control, her voice fluctuating with nerves, and she felt a ribbon of power channel through her, flowing into a crack in the castle's mortar and causing it to expand with a snap so loud it sounded like a branch shattering under the weight of snow. She stared at her accidental handiwork with wide eyes, and saw a three inch gap in the masonry. She then flicked her gaze to Edge who stood frozen in recoil.
"I was going to ask if you were still angry with me, but I can see I have my answer," he answered with a tight voice, his eyes darting from her to the broken stone.
She gaped up at him, the fear that she might have accidentally just caused him an injury, not fully faded from her thoughts.
She shook her head. "It was-I didn't-accident," she finally sputtered out, closing her book with a definitive thump.
He slowly arched one brow. "Is it safe to move or do you have something else in store for me?" he asked.
Her concern quickly boiled into irritation. "What do you want, Edge?"
He shifted his stance, relaxing, and studied her a moment.
"Are you angry with me?" he repeated.
She pressed her lips into a thin straight line and re-opened her book, pretending to ignore him.
After a moment, he knelt down, batting the book closed with her fingers still between the pages. She looked at him angrily.
"Why?" he persisted. "Is it a crime among your people to extend comfort to another?"
Rydia blushed. "It's not that you wanted to offer me comfort," she protested. "It's the way you offered me comfort. You can never be sincere, can you? Everything's a game to you."
When he said nothing, she continued. "I'm not a toy for you to play with and to unravel like a puzzle. I am a summoner—the last summoner—and maybe that means little to you, but I refuse to be treated like a child."
He stared at her dumbfounded for a protracted moment, and then Cid's bellowing foghorn of a voice interrupted them both. Rydia started, and Edge grimaced as the engineer's meaty hand pulled the ninja backwards, reluctantly, to the work at hand.
"There's no time for flirting when the end of the world is at our doorstep," Cid ordered like a drill sergeant. "Keep it in your pants, boy, we've got an airship to fix."
Rydia grinned victoriously at Edge's comeuppance, even as his expression begged her to rescue him from being towed away. In truth, she was glad to be rid of him, at least for a while.
She pouted her lips at him in a teasing fashion, and he glared; at the mercy of Cid and the airship repairs.
In the meantime, Rydia decided that perhaps her studies were best conducted away from prying eyes and princely distractions. She gathered her things and strode across the battlements to the castle's cooler interior. There had to be a quiet place to read amidst the hustle and bustle of the dwarves scurrying forth with orders and errands.
She found just such a place in the infirmary, sitting on a barrel in the corner while the wounded slept. And when she exhausted her voice with soft recitations, she found herself dozing off.
Rydia had no idea how much time had passed, or where she was for that matter, when the infirmary door was thrown open, and an explosion of sound poured into the room.
Dwarves were carrying a hefty load between them, and as Rydia's awareness returned, she blinked, and discovered it was Cid the dwarves were carrying.
They deposited him into a bed and Rosa hovered over him like a concerned nurse.
Cecil spoke to the dwarves, and one of the dwarf healers began to unwind his bandages, fussing over his wounds.
"Should'a stayed abed," the healer complained, removing bandages stained with blood.
Rydia approached the bed through the wall of dwarves, curiously trying to see Cid.
"You always have to overdo it, don't you?" Rosa chided him, while the engineer grunted out a laugh, then hissed as a bandage took a little skin with it.
"I think this is the part where I finally have to bow out and leave the rest to you young ones," he admitted. "I'm no good for much outside of fixing up airships in this condition anyhow."
Edge laughed through his nose. "Had to go and show me up, didn't you, old man?" he said.
Rydia glanced over at Edge, wondering when the ninja had taken a place beside her. She folded her arms, looking down at the engineer. "Get well soon," she told him.
Cid smiled, and looked at her, and then at Edge.
"You two-look after Cecil and Rosa for me, you hear?"
Rydia grinned nervously at her companion. Why the two of them?
Edge nodded with a helpless shrug. "Just take your time and recover," he told the engineer.
"And you two," Cid said, directing his attention to Cecil and Rosa. "Be careful!"
"You too, Cid," Rosa replied, taking his hand and squeezing it soundly.
Cid shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. "Go on now," he said, waving his hand at them. "I don't remember you having enough time to be sitting around talking to crazy old men like me."
"Take care of yourself, Cid," Cecil seconded.
Cid grunted, and the dwarf healer returned with her arms burdened with more bandages and salves, shooing them away from the bed.
Rydia followed Cecil into the hallway adjacent to the infirmary. "What happened?" she asked.
Rosa strode out of the room behind her, sighing. "He tried to do too much too quickly," she replied.
Cecil gazed at Rosa for a long moment, and then at Rydia. "The dwarves are finishing Cid's work, but the modifications are mostly complete," he told her. "And the king has asked that we dine with his men before we leave."
Rydia nodded, sensing there was still a sense of foreboding hovering close at hand. "What do we do until then?" she asked.
Cecil sighed with a forced smile. "We wait."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Edge felt as if he was bathed in his own sweat, as he left the dining hall of the dwarves after their parting meal. He wondered if it might prove to be their "last" meal with the way things were going-and if the dwarf food was any indication.
Cecil had mentioned to him over their meal that he'd wished to speak with him, and this both annoyed and intrigued the prince. They had not said a word to each other since the Sealed Cave, and Edge was still waiting for the other man to accept the blame for his own mistake. He had been warned-and he had done nothing.
Rydia and Rosa had left the hall in conference with each other, and Cecil was waiting at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed, waiting for Edge to join him. His armor was absent, and the simple tunic he wore over trousers was stained with several weeks worth of sweat, grime, and blood. Cecil's pale hair was a stark contrast, and Edge frowned as he looked up at the paladin-the man who, even at his worst, seemed to make everyone else seem dingy by comparison.
"Something you'd like to say?" Edge asked, trying to remain straight-faced.
Cecil gazed down at him, gray eyes like pin points, and his jaw clenched.
"Several things," he answered through tight lips. "And I would ask that you say nothing until I've said all I need to say."
Edge felt his hackles rise-the same knee-jerk reaction he had to being scolded. He recalled many such talks with his father, and he disliked the irritating familiarity almost as much as he presently disliked the paladin.
"Very well," he replied, trying to mask his anger with curiosity.
"Walk with me," Cecil said-leaving the top of the stairs to head down the opposite hall.
Edge climbed the stairs and followed him, catching up at a joining of the ways.
Edge glanced down both hallways and then at Cecil.
The paladin seemed reluctant to say what was on his mind, but Edge felt he had taken enough liberties with him over the past few days and wasn't about to press his luck.
"There are-things you should know," Cecil finally said.
"About what, precisely?" Edge asked.
"About Kain. About this," Cecil replied, choosing a direction and walking.
Edge kept apace, glancing occasionally at the other man.
"Despite what he's done, at heart he is a good man. Misguided, but good."
Edge opened his mouth to protest, but Cecil raised his hand to stall him.
"We grew up together," Cecil revealed. "We spent our younger days together training, studying, and impressing women. Kain's father was a man of great influence, then-the king's trusted aide, and captain of the dragoons. He was killed when we were but boys, a time when Kain had hopes of becoming just as great as his father," he explained, his eyes taking on a faraway cast. "Kain took his father's death to heart-it had been a terrible accident. Afterwards, he became a ward of the king just as I was, and we became inseparable from that day onward. But we were also competitive. I took to knighthood; Kain followed in his father's footsteps and took the oaths of the dragoons. Over the years we were sent on several missions together, and he always had my back, no matter the danger. He saved my life on many occasions; so many, that I've lost count. I hadn't noticed until recently, that there was unrest in his spirit. He had became prone to moods and periods of deep silence. I thought perhaps it had simply been time passing, and I tried to draw him out but failed; as I too became consumed with my own training, with my own troubles. He remained by my side through even this-my brother at arms.
And when our king was taken by madness...he was a loyal friend to me. I cannot set aside a lifetime of friendship in light of an error that was not entirely his doing."
Edge looked at him, at the creases on his brow that spoke of stress and deep consideration.
"You never wondered why he betrayed you in the first place?" Edge asked quietly.
Cecil sighed. "I don't know whether it was complete manipulation, or his need to prove himself, or a combination of both."
"And you never considered jealousy?" Edge inquired.
"Jealousy?" Cecil said, surprised. "He was a captain in his own right-he had men who respected him."
"-and a friend who had everything he wanted but could never have himself."
Cecil stopped mid-stride and studied him shrewdly, failing to see what Edge had meant.
Edge sighed and glanced away, trying to think of an explanation.
"Two trees grow side by side," he began. "One is closer to the sun and grows quickly, spreading its roots deeper and pulling more water from the earth. The other tree beside it grows more slowly, always in the shade of the other. It will always be stunted, and its branches never as full as its twin. In most cases, the lesser of the two trees simply withers and dies."
Cecil stared at him for a long moment. "That was surprisingly poetic," he observed.
Edge laughed through his nose, running a hand through his short hair. "Spend any amount of time around shrines and temples, and you find you pick up a few things."
Cecil shook his head, but crossed his arms in thought. "I've never considered Kain to be the one in my shadow."
"That's because you were too busy basking in the light-and you had Rosa."
Cecil's expression darkened. "He and I-we had an understanding of sorts where she was concerned."
Edge raised a brow. "If he survives this, the two of you should re-visit that 'understanding'," he said dryly.
"Despite everything," Cecil said, "I should have seen the signs earlier. I should have done more to stop him."
"Yes. You should have," Edge agreed.
"I've made a fatal error because I failed to see my friend as he was. I don't imagine you think very highly of me."
"I still think you're a fool," Edge admitted boldly. "But a more forgivable fool, at least."
Cecil shook his head again with a fleeting, exasperated grin. "All this, I felt you should know. Especially if you plan to continue with us. You do plan to continue with us, don't you?"
Edge shrugged. "What else would I do with my time-simply wait for the end?"
Cecil nodded as if he'd expected this. "Dissention will break us," he said, his expression quickly sobering. "If you have a problem with my decisions, don't undermine my authority in such a way again. I won't be as forgiving the next time and you will regret crossing me."
Edge looked at him sharply, feeling the tension flare between them-the back and forth tug of power.
"Are we finished?"
Cecil sighed. "Yes, we are."
Edge turned to leave, but Cecil called after him. "What I said to you in the cavern-about your character-"
Edge pivoted to place a look on the other man. "You weren't wrong," he answered darkly, continuing to take backwards steps. "But you weren't entirely correct, either."
At Cecil's frown, he added. "But that is something only time will reveal," he explained with a hapless wave of his hand, leaving the paladin to ponder all of this alone.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Cid had not been permitted to leave his bed to see the four of them off, but the dwarves had all come to bid farewell and good luck to the humans.
Rydia stood on the Falcon's deck, watching dwarves pull away the last of the scaffolding from the ship's side.
"Fare thee well!" Giott called to them, his armor glinting in the otherworldly light.
"Thank you!" she shouted back, trying to project her voice above the noise of the propellers as they rose into the air.
Cecil flew them away from the castle in a northward direction. This time, the dwarves had drawn them a crude but reliable map to prevent them from getting lost, as they had finally been given identifiable landmarks to follow.
It took several hours to navigate from Giott's castle to their destination, but after a while, Rydia noticed a gargantuan column of rocks piled from the underworld floor to its ceiling. The haze of heat made it difficult to determine whether it was a pillar at all or the bones of the earth itself, but the closer Cecil flew them toward it, the more certain she was that this was where they were meant to be. This was the blocked path to the world above.
Edge and Cecil were carrying on an argument, which was unsurprising, but Rydia strode to the bow of the ship where the drill had been attached. It was an impressive piece of equipment, jutting out at an angle with large spirals tapering to a point several feet in diameter.
She glanced back at the helm where Edge was still arguing with Cecil, pointing to the earthen column and gesturing to the drill. She heard "insane" and "impossible" uttered from his lips, but Cecil's stern expression fixed their destination firmly ahead.
She wondered how the drill would function. How were they to fly upwards when they first had to drill sideways?
She knew she wasn't going to learn anything from asking herself these questions, so she made up her mind to join Cecil and Edge at the helm and listen more closely to their debate.
"If we drill straight into that pillar, we'll be buried alive," Edge was trying to impress upon Cecil.
Cecil schooled his expression, pursing his lips. "Not if we drill intelligently," he answered. "If we find a load-bearing section of the column and weaken it, we can determine which way it will fall."
"And if the entire column comes crashing down on us at once?" Edge demanded.
"Cid doesn't always think his plans through," Cecil replied with a tired shrug. "That doesn't mean it isn't worth trying."
Rydia looked wide-eyed at Cecil and then at the column. This was their only chance, after all.
They flew closer to the column and then around it, searching for sections where it was narrower.
"There," Rosa pointed out, finding a slight narrowing at a point where the column began to angle.
Cecil brought the Falcon around, carefully directing it to the rock face. Once the ship was in position, he pulled a series of levers that had been newly added during the modifications. Rydia could only imagine that they had something to do with the drill.
She heard several ratchets and mechanical clinks below the deck, and then heard the drill as it slowly spun to life, gaining speed until it hummed hungrily.
Rosa, anticipating trouble, began to chant, a soft psalm of white magic that Rydia knew all-too-well. She was protecting them from harm, and the green glow that surrounded her made Rydia feel slightly more confident about what they were about to do.
Cecil advanced the ship, thereby, advancing the drill.
At first the ship lurched, then evened out; but the deeper into the rock the drill bored, the more chunks of rock came hurtling over the ship's bow at the four of them. Pebbles, stones, clods of dirt; all of it showered the Falcon's deck, most of it bouncing off of the protect spells Rosa had placed around them. Thankfully, it also kept the dust at bay as it billowed like a plume from the hole.
Cecil drove the drill further into the side of the column, until it made such a sound as to be unbearable. The drill bit suddenly jerked to a stop and the ship lurched suddenly, keening. They were flung from their feet, as Cecil clutched the ship's wheel, desperate for control.
"We need to reverse the drill!" Edge shouted anxiously.
Cecil threw himself at one of the levers beside the wheel, and a mechanical groaning rumbled below deck. The ship lurched the other direction, shaking, until Rydia wondered if all her teeth would fall out of her head from chattering.
When the ship leveled out, Cecil drew back from the column, and the ship's propellers ceased straining to work as hard as they had been. The four of them peered at the bow to see what had happened.
The drill was melted at the tip, and the grooves along its side had dulled to the point of uselessness.
"So much for Cid's plan," Edge commented regrettably.
Cecil had folded his arms, lost in thought, and Rosa was eyeing the ceiling of the underworld above them. No protect spell would keep them safe from a complete collapse of the earth itself.
"We did manage to bore a deep hole into the rock," Cecil noticed after a while.
"Yes, but we have no means of exploiting it," Edge answered, pacing back and forth across the deck.
The ninja prince did not deal well with failure, Rydia noticed.
And then suddenly he was looking directly at her. She felt her face redden at the unexpected attention.
"Your magic," he said, looking her up and down meaningfully.
She blanched. "The Eidolons?" she asked. "We'd need to fly the ship too close to the column for that, and we can't take that risk."
He sighed at her, unimpressed. "That spell you were studying earlier," he mentioned.
Rydia crossed her arms, wondering how she had suddenly become integral to the entire operation.
"It's not-" she said defensively. "I can't-I haven't learned it yet."
"You did a pretty good job on the dwarf castle," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"That was an accident!" she protested. "It's a dangerous spell, and if I lose control-"
"Control is not the problem here, Rydia," Edge informed her. "We could use a half-baked spell right about now."
She looked at Cecil, and he was looking back at her, hopefully.
"Can you do it, Rydia?" he asked, taking her measure.
She squeezed her eyes angrily shut with a huff and marched to the bow of the ship. She gazed at the hole they'd drilled, sighed, and then returned to the helm. "I can try," she replied.
Cecil nodded, and flew the ship to a safer distance. Once they were hovering far enough away to avoid the brunt of the collapse, did Rydia take stock of what she was about to attempt.
Casting an advanced spell from this distance, with only a half-learned incantation-it was like trying to sing one of Edward's arias without knowing the proper key. What wretched thing would she create?
"Would it help if I pestered you?" Edge supplied from somewhere to her left.
"Shh!" she hissed at him, closing her eyes. She needed to concentrate. She had recited all day, surely she could figure out what she needed to do. She spoke the first word, allowing herself to find the center of it, steadying herself as she'd been trained, and let the first word flow into the next. It was like knowing the natural progression of notes in a song-knowing whether a phrase would go up or down. With each word she grew more confident, finding surety in how the magic began to flow through her. She allowed her emotion to color the song of the spell, but as she moved from line to line, her memory began to fail. Her lips began to falter as she began to think, and when her thoughts began to tangle and lose confidence, she lost the melody. The spell became unstable, and she felt it wobble, like a ripple turning to waves that were about to crash back into her. She clung on until she felt something take root where she had commanded, one thread of obedience as the magic took form and enacted its intended purpose. She heard splinters and then faint pops, the crushing weight of earth bearing down on itself. Her incantation was beginning to strain her, her brow beading with sweat as she struggled under the weight of it, as if she were trapped in the fissure herself, until finally she cut herself off at the end of a phrase, releasing her magic's tether.
She fell to her knees, but opened her eyes to see if she had done anything at all.
She had felt something, but the column stood where it had before. Had her spell, incomplete as it was, not been enough?
"Look!" Rosa shouted, pointing below the hole they'd drilled.
Rydia stood and walked to the ship's bow, straining her eyes. She saw a few stray shards of stone break free and fall, and then she heard it, more cracks and splinters. Shards, and then whole sheets of rock began to slough off the side of the column until a chain reaction took place. Cecil moved the airship an even greater distance back as the entire mountain range of Agart, it seemed, plummeted to the underworld floor.
The sound was intense, so intense, Rydia had to cover her ears with her hands for fear she might go deaf.
Dust and debris and a surge of heat washed over the airship, and they all ducked, covering their heads.
It took several long minutes until the rumbling and concussions ceased to sound, and when it did, they peered up from where they had all been clinging to the decking.
Light-real light-plunged into the underbelly of the earth. The sun.
Rydia stood shakily to her feet. They had done it!
Edge caught her eye, grinning at her triumphantly, and she couldn't help but grin in turn.
They both looked at Cecil, who stood up with a sigh so relieved, that Rydia almost laughed.
"Nice work, Rydia," he told her with a wink, and she nodded appreciatively.
"I admit-maybe Cid's plans aren't impossible after all," Edge conceded, groaning.
"You can apologize to him later," Cecil informed him, returning to the ship's wheel. "But first, we have an appointment in Mysidia that we have to keep."
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A/N:
Part deux!
Dear readers-thank you, thank you, thank you. I have received several wonderful PMs and reviews from several of you over the past month, and I just have to say-you guys are amazing!
There have been some weekends where I come home from work utterly annihilated and I open my inbox and it's like...AHH, WHAT IS THIS AWESOMENESS? So thank you :)
And now, let us take a moment to shake our heads at Squeenix for all the plot holes in this part of the game alone. I mean...really.
If the last part of this chapter seemed rushed at all...not gonna lie, I really, really wanted to be done with it. I just...ugh.
Be forewarned, next chapter is not entirely plot advancing-it's mostly fan-service, to be honest. But since chapter 23 was so dark, and this one wasn't much better, I think it might be necessary :)
Ch25 has an outline and a few scenes already written. But it could be equally as long as this chapter, if not longer, sooooo...head meets desk. Here we go!
Till next update!
~Myth