Kane leaned back on the bench, resting his head against the wall behind him, his long legs stretched out in front and crossed at the ankles. To his left, the wide wooden double doors to the throne room opened and shut at intervals, as servants or messengers came and went, often returning with stately, official-looking men: historians from the university, mages from White Hall, members of the mage council. Every time the door opened, sounds of raised voices carried out, but Kane had given up on trying to hear anything. They'd been there at least two hours, surrounded by guards he'd eaten breakfast with only hours before.
Despite the situation, Kane was more or less at ease - it was nice being back in the castle for the first time in weeks. The bench's other occupants seemed much less comfortable.
On his right, Thadius Shipman sat rather closer to him than Kane thought was strictly necessary, leaving a large space between himself and the black mage on the right end of the bench. Shipman, a scrawny boy of ten, was a familiar figure to Kane. The guard had picked up the boy for petty theft more than once, though he was always released with a warning later. Shipman, apprenticed to some tailor or other who praised his nimble fingers, was charming and good-hearted but seemed unable to stop his nimble fingers from stealing whatever wasn't nailed down. He generally returned the goods afterward, often without being asked. He'd become almost a mascot for Kane's garrison, which patrolled the harbor market and ran into him most often.
The other two, though, Kane had never seen before. The tight-lipped black mage, he'd learned from his fellow guards, had arrived on the ship that morning. It had been a tasteless joke on the part of captain and crew not to inform him of Cornelia's strict laws against black magic. Distasteful, perhaps, but black mages weren't popular in Cornelia these days. Besides, this mage had got off lightly: had he been wandering that same market after evening chime, Kane might have been fishing his corpse out of the harbor the next morning. No one had mentioned his name, and Kane wasn't about to ask. With his staff leaning against the wall beside the bench, and with his arms crossed over his chest, broad hat pulled down to cover his face, the mage's even breathing seemed consistent with a man asleep, but Kane wasn't fooled: the mage's breath caught ever so slightly whenever the door opened, as if the man listened intently to every word that drifted out into the hall.
On his left, between him and the door, the white mage girl trembled as if she were cold, but Kane suspected it was fear that shook her so. She had said her name was Lena, and though he'd learned from the guards that she'd lived in the city for several years, he'd never seen her before – he was sure he would have remembered her, with her curly hair as red as his own. It wasn't a common color in these parts. The way she huddled within her white hood, he supposed he could have passed her on the street dozens of times and never noticed; he likely had, given that he was stationed in the guard house nearest White Hall.
As he wondered about it, the girl's trembling became more pronounced. There was a soft sniffling, as of someone trying very hard to cry quietly. His guard friends shifted uncomfortably in their places flanking the bench. Kane moved closer to the girl, touching her lightly on the knee. "Are you alright?" he asked her.
Lena shook her head, but said nothing. He suspected she'd sob aloud if she tried to speak.
"Look, it's okay," he said. "My father works for the king. He's in there right now. He'll see we're taken care of."
When the girl spoke, Kane was surprised by the control in her voice, though it was hoarse with tightly held emotion. "But what have we done wrong? Why are we being held like this?" she said.
He noted the subtle changes in the black mage's posture that indicated the man was listening closely for Kane's reply, but it was Shipman who answered.
"We're probably not in trouble. They're protecting us," the young thief said. The girl looked over at him. So did Kane. So did the black mage, for that matter, hat tilting up to expose his eyes at last. The boy writhed uncomfortably under their stares. He said, "Well, it's true. They're not watching us. They're watching for other people."
A guard near the door looked sidelong at the boy, who stuck out his tongue in response.
Kane couldn't stop a chuckle at the show of disrespect before he reined in his humor. He heard a snort from the other end of the bench, as if the black mage as well had been too late to stifle a laugh, and a rapid glance at the mysterious mage's eyes above the scarf covering his face confirmed it, though the mage composed himself quickly. He looked back at Kane with eyes that, now that Kane got a good look at them, seemed not much older than his own. As he looked, the mage gave him the briefest of nods, as if to say, "I see you too."
Kane cleared his throat and spoke to the frightened girl, "The boy's right. He should know how the guard corps works by now – he spends enough time in our company."
The door to the throne room opened once again and Kane's father emerged. The guards stepped aside for Lord Redden with respectful nods. Kane leapt to his feet and embraced him without hesitation. "Father!"
His father pushed him away, gently, looking him in the eye. The old man looked grim and care-worn: his elaborate red silk cloak was creased as if he'd been sitting on it all morning, the feathered hat that was a red mage's symbol of office was carried under one arm rather than worn, and the normally jaunty plume of the hat appeared to have been sadly squashed at some point during the meeting.
Kane found it unsettling. While he had never once used his father's position to his advantage, preferring to earn his own way, he had spent the better part of two hours believing that, whatever was going on in that throne room, his father was in there sorting it out for them. Now, it seemed that was not the case. "Father, what's going on?"
"It's not good, Kane."
"But what…"
The door opened again before Kane could form the question. Father Todd, one of the four white mage high priests and a member of the mage council, strode toward them, followed by Orin, the king's advisor. "The time of the prophecy is at hand!" Father Todd declared. "The orbs have surfaced."
As Father Todd approached, Kane sensed movement behind him as the black mage stood, gripping his staff. The guards moved in, but only to keep the priest back, not to stop the mage, just as Shipman had said earlier. Father Todd glared at them, but the guards held their ground, and Kane's guardsman heart swelled with pride at his fellows. Father Todd scowled, but couldn't speak to mere guardsmen without sacrificing his dignity. He thrust out his hand between the guards. "Give them to me!"
Neither Kane nor the black mage moved, though Shipman and Lena huddled together on the bench now that Kane was no longer between them. The silence went on so long that Kane was not the only one who startled when Orin's deep voice rumbled, "No."
The high priest turned. "What?"
Orin, a monk from the far northern desert, shook his head. "The orbs have chosen their warriors."
Kane wasn't sure he'd heard that properly. "Come again?"
Orin started to say something else but Father Todd interrupted him, his face screwing up in anger. "Orin, you cannot possibly believe the Light would choose the likes of these!" He pointed a hand each at Kane and Lena, snarling, "Inexperienced apprentices?" He then pointed at Shipman, "And this one probably stole his from its rightful place!"
Shipman leaped up, saying, "It was my grandpa's!" Lord Redden restrained the boy with a gentle yet firm hand on his shoulder.
Father Todd ignored the outburst. His snarl became more pronounced as he pointed at the black mage, "And a servant of the very darkness we oppose."
The black mage made no move, but spoke quietly, and his voice was anger turned to ice. "I serve no one." At his tone, the guards surrounding them each took a step away.
Orin held his hands up, separating the high priest from them with the gesture. "You cannot argue with fate. However the orbs were acquired, they were brought together by these four and it is through these four that they made their sign." He turned to the guards. "Bring them before the king."
Kane walked in a haze of disbelief as the four of them were escorted into the throne room like visiting dignitaries – or, he couldn't help but think, like condemned criminals. He felt awkward entering through the great double doors; he was more accustomed to the smaller door, down a side passage farther along the hall, that was more often used by servants and family. Kane supposed he was both. He tried to keep his head held high as he followed Orin and his father, keeping step with the clicking of his father's boots on the stone tiled floor. The black mage walked beside him, Shipman and Lena following.
On a raised dais, the king and queen sat upon their thrones, their faces as familiar to Kane as his own father's. Courtiers and nobles lined the walls on either side, though there was only one he cared about. She, of course, was on the dais with her parents. He was aware that she was there – he'd glimpsed her from the corner of his eye - but his focus was first drawn to King Cascius, his father's oldest and dearest friend, who looked at Kane now as if he'd never seen him before.
Orin bowed low and gestured toward the four of them. "Your majesty, I present to you, the warriors of light."
So this is really happening, he thought. Everyone else seemed as surprised as he was. Muttering filled the room like a rising ocean wave, cries of fear and despair mingled with hope and excitement. Kane's gaze wandered over the crowd, taking in the expressions on the courtiers faces, and then somehow he was staring at Princess Sarah, who, for her part, was staring back at him. She seemed pale. Was she… Had she been worried about him? He hadn't seen her in so long, he thought for sure she would be angry.
The king's voice cut through the restless crowd, silencing it. "Does anyone else have anything to say?"
"Haven't we said enough this morning?" Lord Redden asked bluntly, earning him a glare from the king. A few courtiers murmured at his tone.
But Father Todd bustled in from behind them, having followed them into the throne room. "Your majesty, I must protest. The orbs are the key to power beyond our imagining. They cannot be entrusted to untested youths."
Several voices muttered their assent, but one rang out smooth and clear above the courtiers. From his seat near the throne, General Garland said, "I agree, your majesty. Let me choose more appropriate bearers from among my finest warriors."
Kane's face flushed with shame. There was no love lost between Garland and his father – it was why Kane had found himself posted at the harbor guardhouse instead of in the castle where he felt he belonged. Garland would never consider Kane to be one of his finest warriors, no matter how hard he trained.
He looked to the others. The poor white mage girl trembled noticeably. Her eyes were closed, as though she needed to close out the sight of so many eyes upon her. Shipman still stood close by her side, looking relieved and hopeful, probably at the thought of being spared of this new burden.
The black mage, however, looked like a hunted man. His hands gripped his staff in front of him, shoulders hunched as though he was trying to shrink out of sight. "Easy, friend," Kane said, quietly.
"It was my mother's," the black mage said just as quietly to him.
"Speak up," said the king. "If you have anything to say for yourselves, I would hear it."
The black mage took a deep breath that seemed to steady him, then stepped forward, facing General Garland rather than the king, his voice strong and sure of his words. "I don't know if this trinket is the orb of which you've spoken, but it's all I have left of my home. I will fight you if you wish to take it from me."
Kane knew every guard in the room was putting his hand to his sword. His own instinct to do so rose strong in him and he fought it down. Garland sprang to his feet, crying, "How dare you?"
But another voice cried, "Wait!"
From the room's entrance, another white mage high priest, Father Branford, hurried in, out of breath as if he'd run all the way from White Hall. He was not a frequent visitor to the palace; Kane was surprised he'd even been sent for. Branford approached the black mage slowly, and still more slowly extended a hand to his shoulder in a gesture of friendship. Kane heard him tell the mage, "We don't need to take this path," then he addressed the king. "May I speak, your majesty?"
At the king's slight nod, Branford addressed the room at large. "Good people, many of you have heard me often say there is no such thing as fate, but today I have reason to doubt those beliefs. I have studied the legend of the prophecy: these orbs were hidden in the four corners of the earth. For them to suddenly appear together in the harbor square, that means something." The crowd muttered agreement. "The prophecy predicted that the Warriors of Light would appear in our darkest hour of need. The seas have grown unpredictable; the quakes wreak havoc on the city; more crops fail every season. Can anyone deny that our need is dire?"
More muttering answered his question.
"Today, we were shown a sign. These four have been called by the Light to deliver us from darkness. I believe, for my part, that my apprentice Lena is worthy of this task. Will anyone vouch for the others?"
Kane's father looked at the king as he said, "I vouch for my son."
Orin said, "And I will vouch for the boy."
Garland scoffed. "Orin, the boy is a known thief."
The monk only shrugged. "So was I at his age. I believe he is young enough that he can still be taught the right path."
Kane turned toward the black mage again, who seemed poised to run but that Father Branford still gripped his shoulder. The priest nodded at the mage, then turned to the girl. "Lena," he said, smiling genuinely, beckoning her to come closer. "Young man, I don't know that you and my apprentice have been properly introduced. Lena was born a white mage, but in childhood she began to manifest a very rare talent…"
"Don't, Father," Lena said, softly, fearfully.
"I'm sorry, Lena. This is the only way."
"What talent?" the mage asked harshly.
"Lena is a soul reader."
The gasps that had gone through the crowd before were as nothing compared to this one. Kane's eyes snapped back toward Princess Sarah, who looked to be on the verge of tears, and he knew she must be remembering the kind old white mage who had loved them like her own grandchildren: the king's last soul reader, more than ten years gone now. Soul readers were rare, and a king who could call on one had the advantage in most matters of diplomacy.
"A soul reader!" Father Todd bellowed. "How long were you planning to keep this to yourself, Brother Branford? When were you planning to inform the king's councilors?"
"She is only an apprentice," Father Branford said.
"There is no training for soul reading! Her status as a white mage is irrelevant!"
"With respect," Father Branford said with remarkable calm, "Lena is powerful enough that she would be a danger to herself, and potentially others, if she remained untrained. I did what I thought was best for her. May we continue?"
The king motioned him to do so. Branford gestured to the girl, stepping away from the mage so she could approach.
Lena said in her tremulous voice, "I'll need to see your face," and Kane turned toward the black mage, as by now he was curious what the man must look like underneath the mask.
Lena looked down at her feet, but the black mage stared at the top of her raised hood in seeming horror, as if he was frozen to the spot. Father Branford said softly, "If you come to us with a soul free of ill intent, she will know. Do not be afraid."
Finally, the black mage closed his eyes, as if in resignation. He knelt to place his staff at his feet then straightened and, taking a deep breath, with one hand took the hat from his head, and with the other pulled down the scarf that hid his face, and Kane realized why the mage had hesitated so long.
Scars extended the length of his neck and across his jaw. On the left side, they extended up as high as his cheekbone, pulling his mouth up at that corner, though his nose seemed to be intact. Burn scars were unheard of in the city, as injuries by fire were easily healed by white magic, but they did happen in smaller villages that didn't always have white mages available. Kane had seen plenty, and was just thinking to himself that this mage was not the worst among them, when the crowd around them began to take in the poor man's appearance.
Women shrieked. Kane saw the black mage flinch at the sound. His eyes were still closed, but Kane saw him squeeze them tighter and knew the mage must feel ashamed - ashamed and humiliated.
It was at the sound of the shrieks that Lena looked up at the mage, and Kane saw understanding dawn on her. She did not react in horror, but reached a slim hand up to touch the black mage on the side of his face. The mage flinched at the touch, but opened his eyes. Kane thought the man might have been crying, but couldn't be sure.
"What's your name?" he heard Lena say.
"Jack." The reply had been so quiet, he almost missed it.
Lena nodded. "This won't hurt, Jack." She placed her hands to either side of his face, and stared into his eyes. Her hands began to glow soft and white.
Then she gasped and slumped back, arms falling to her sides, hood falling open, and the black mage, Jack, threw his arms around her to steady her, but Father Branford forced his way between them, pulling the girl toward him. It had happened so fast, over almost as soon as it had begun.
Father Branford's hands glowed in a quick cast of Cure, but the girl waved him away.
"I'm fine," she said, thickly. Standing up straight, she faced the throne as behind her Jack was already pulling his scarf back into place and replacing his hat. "I will vouch for him," Lena said, her voice strong and clear for the first time Kane had heard that day.
The king nodded to Orin, who announced in his low, rumbling voice, "Good people, I present to you the Warriors of Light!"
The crowd cheered. The guardsman nearest Kane clapped him on the shoulder, another knelt in front of Shipman the better to shake his hand. Kane saw a woman from the crowd nearby approach Lena, but Father Branford intercepted her, shaking his head. Lena turned and walked unsteadily out of the throne room. Father Branford said something to the other two guards who had escorted them, who nodded and turned to follow her. Other guards scrambled to open the door ahead of her.
Still being praised and buffeted by the closing crowd, Kane looked back toward the dais, toward Sarah, but Sarah sat at the edge of her seat, staring after the departing soul reader. In one swift movement, she rushed after the girl, crowd parting easily before her. As she brushed past, Kane saw tears in her eyes. He called out, "Sarah!"
It was too familiar. He knew it instantly, even without the affronted gasps of the courtiers to tell him so. Kane saw Lord Redden smack a palm to his forehead as though he couldn't believe he had such a lout for a son.
She stopped, but didn't turn to him. "You should address me as 'princess' in the presence of others, guardsman." Oh, yes. Definitely angry at him.
Kane lowered his eyes. "Of course. Forgive me, princess."
She hurried after Lena.
He watched through the doors, just before they swung shut, as the princess caught up to Lena, who in that moment broke down. He saw the princess wrap her arms around the girl and hold her as she cried. The doors closed with a resounding thud, snapping him back to the present.
His father had forced his way through the crowd and stood nearby, speaking politely to the nobles and merchants clamoring to shake his hand and wish him well. On one side, a contingent of guards who knew Shipman from his thievery were lifting him above their shoulders as the boy beamed. On the other side, the black mage, Jack, was receiving the same attention Kane was, no matter that mere minutes before the entire throne room had feared him. The word of a white mage was strong, but the word of a soul reader was irrefutable. If Lena had vouched for him…
Still, Kane wondered what Lena had seen that disturbed her so and, when he realized the black mage was still staring toward the closed doors through which Lena had parted, he wondered what she had seen that convinced her to vouch for him anyway.
Author's Note: Character names are hard, particularly when you're limited to four letters at a time. The first time I played Final Fantasy I around the time it came out, my characters (fighter, thief, black mage, white mage) were named for what color they were wearing: Redd, Tann, Blak, and Whyt. I'm so bad at names. I'm the sort of person who, when playing a Zelda game, always names the main character Link. My late brother, though, always named his legendary hero Kane, so I've reused the name in his memory. You'll notice I've included "Redd" in there, through Kane's father Lord Redden. It seemed an appropriate name for a red mage. More on character names next time.