Finding My Way Back To You Chapter 3: The Shadow, a final fantasy: tactics fanfic

Chapter 3: The Shadow

For a long moment, Izlude lingered at the side of his fallen friend, his own grim silence matching that of the tomb that rose around him. He might have been studying his reflection in Justin's mirror smooth armor to make sure that the disguise granted him by the holy stone was complete, or maybe he'd been waiting for Ramza and his company to get further away so that they would not detect his pursuit. Or, quite possibly, he was reluctant to leave Justin without...

Without what? he found himself wondering.

Explaining why he had lived while Justin had died, or why he'd given the order that had proven Justin's death sentence? Asking his forgiveness for unwittingly placing Justin within reach of Hashmalum's claws? Thanking him for being loyal to the end? Izlude did not know.

What he did know was that his window of opportunity grew narrower with each passing moment and, loathe though he was to leave Justin's remains unburied, he had to leave with all speed. One day, he suspected, he would, indeed, meet Justin again to make an accounting of himself, and that his fallen friend would not be the only one to whom he would have to justify himself. But, he decided that he'd best serve the memory of the people who'd died here by making sure that that day was a long way off, and only came after Alma had been rescued. So resolved, he began to make his way down the castle hallways. Pausing for a moment, the knight blade swore, by the blood of those who'd died in this tragedy, himself included, and to whatever heavenly power there was to hear him, an oath more sacred than any he'd taken as a Knight Templar.

From this day forth, whatever task to which he turned his hand or whatever burden he shouldered, it would not be undertaken solely for himself and Alma alone, but also for Justin and the souls of his parents, to whom he owed his second chance at life.

And, though that was no small promise, he did not quail.

After all, if death hadn't stopped him, what could?

He promptly shook himself back to attention, somewhat embarrassed by his thoughts. As miraculous as the stone's resurrection of him was, he would rather not find out if it would perform the feat a second time.

If the stone did possess something akin to a mind - and it certainly seemed so, given that it chose who it aided and how - then allowing its efforts go to waste seemed most unwise.

Speaking of unwise... Izlude mused, quickening his pace.

The knight blade continued onward, through corridors and galleries that had once been bustling with activity. Now, there was only a funereal silence, so deep that even the squeaking of a rodent would have resounded like a thunderclap. He soon reached a stout portal that led down to the castle's main floor and, straining against the weight, forced open the heavy doors.

What he saw beyond nearly sent him jumping out of his altered skin.

He was standing atop a broad stairway in the castle keep, lined with immense braziers that, with no one to tend to them, were burning low. Yet, the encroaching shadows could not conceal the pervasive smell of sulfur that assailed his nostrils.

The stench emanated from an ominous looking pattern of scorch marks upon the floor. It looked like the outline of a body, but one unlike anything Izlude had seen even in his darkest nightmares. Alma had said that she'd seen the body of a Lucavi demon, slain by her brother. Perhaps the body had been here, but was disposed of while Izlude had been making his journey to or from the realm of the deceased.

Whatever it was, it had been huge and monstrous. Assuming it had been laid out at full length, it had been well over seven feet tall. What's more, it had had legs ending in hooves and four arms. The lower pair seemed normal, if overly large, while the upper pair looked as thick as tree trunks and, judging by scorched outlines of the hands, the creature could have crushed a man's head like an overripe grape.

That analogy harkened Izlude back to the crushed skull of Sir Damien, who must've met his demise at the hands of whatever creature had scarred this keep.

No, not scarred, Izlude mused. Desecrated.

That did, indeed, seem the word for it. And, the analogy became all the more poignant when he spied Weigraf's dog tag upon the scorched tiles, right where the creature's neck would have been.

This seemed to confirm Izlude's guess, but the stench of evil on the air quickly choked away any pride he might have felt at in deductive skills. Weigraf's comrades from the Corpse Brigade had given their lives to free Ivalice from the corrupt nobility, but what worse insult to their memory was there besides their leader striking a bargain with slave masters more vile by far?

And, for that matter, how many other souls had been corrupted by the Lucavi?

Izlude shook off the question, deciding to focus on what he did know. And, he knew that, for all their power and monstrousness, these demons could be killed. Thus resolved, he skirted around the edge of the scorch marks and pressed on.

Izlude could not be sure if Ramza and company were still close enough that his pursuit would attract their notice, but he dared not tarry any longer. Surely by now, the eerie silence of Favoham's capital and its lord was attracting notice from the outside world, and Izlude knew he could not afford to run afoul of whomever came to investigate. Picking his way carefully through the mass of bodies and the rivers of blood, taking care not to knock aside any corpses or leave any leave any bloody footprints to mark his passage, he soon reached the main foyer. Under normal circumstances, that would have been the least likely way for a fugitive to make his escape, as the cavernous entrance to the castle proper was always well guarded.

These circumstances, however, were anything but normal.

Of the more than two dozen armed guards that would have held this room against a frontal assault upon the castle and who would have formed the first countercharge against armed intruders, none yet drew breath. And, these men had clearly met their deaths upon Hasmalum's claws rather than Ramza's blade.

Ramza may have killed when forced to do so, but these people had been simply murdered...and then butchered.

How did father endure it? Izlude found himself wondering as his eyes wandered from horror to horror. How could he watch such atrocities be committed by a demon that wears his own face? What keeps this from succumbing to madness?

Izlude did not know. And, in truth, he was hesitant to delve too deeply into that particular mystery. Still, he recalled the vision he had seen of Ramza and company pursuing Hashmalum into the depths beneath Orbonne, and the strange but unquestionable certainty he'd had that the renegade Beoulve and his band of fugitives would prevail. If that were so, then he hoped that would be enough to ease his father's dispossessed spirit.

Taking some solace in that belief, Izlude took a moment to survey what lay before him. As expected, Hashmalum had transformed the austere entryway into a nightmare of blood. Dry crimson puddles formed macabre carpets on the otherwise bare floor, dotted here and there with severed limbs and other grisly detritus that Izlude dared not inspect. Once more forcing himself not to think too closely about the dead surrounding him, for down that road lay madness, he carefully picked his way through the carnage and approached the main doors. The stout portal of Riovanes' keep, as solid as a mountain and as ugly as a Morbol, had been left unbarred and ajar.

Beyond was a blessedly ordinary day, the sound of birdsong hauntingly beautiful after the funereal silence of Riovanes.

The knight blade had been about to slip through the crack when he heard voices beyond. He quickly backed away and pressed himself up against the door frame. The sound of several chocobos, each letting out deep "wark", reached his ears and he feared that one of the animals might have alerted its rider to his presence. Not daring even to breathe, he remained stock still, silently praying that he hadn't been detected. When no one came in to seek out the source of an incriminating shadow, he sagged with relief and listened. Straining his ears, he was able to make out Ramza announcing to his party that they would be leaving for Zeltennia. The young Beoulve went on to say that they would take the most direct route they could, by crossing the border between Lesalia and Zeltennia. They would enter Zeltennia by going through Dugeura Pass and the Free City of Bervenia. After that, they would press on to the capital. There, he hoped to find Delita and some badly needed answers. That, he warned, meant another two weeks journey from Riovanes, and through two provinces where they were still fugitives from church and state alike.

Yet, not one voice was raised in objection.

In fact, Izlude was fairly certain he heard somebody opine that the proposed escapade "Could be fun".

Izlude had to admit, he was surprised by this silent and yet thunderous show of support. How many of them had known, truly known, what they were getting into when they threw in their lot with Ramza? For that matter, how many had been his comrades before the mark of heresy had been falsely stamped upon his name, and yet remained at his side after he'd been branded an outlaw? In either case, the fact that they had not deserted Ramza, nor tried to turn him in when they'd had the chance, spoke volumes.

Alma had believed that Ramza was a great man. And, if Izlude hadn't agreed before, he did now.

Surely, only a great man could elicit such loyalty in the face of such impossible odds.

Hoping he'd get the chance to relay this opinion to Ramza personally, Izlude waited for the group to mount their chocobos and leave, using the intervening minutes to mull over what he'd heard. Now that he knew exactly where Ramza would be heading, as well as their route, he considered finding some means to bypass them undetected and trying to reach Zeltennia ahead of the Beoulve noble and his party. It would be simple enough for he, a lone rider, to outdistance a party of, he suspected, over a dozen warriors. However, he was forced to discard that notion almost immediately. As his being stalked by Lucavi demons made clear, unexpected things tended to happen when Ramza Beoulve was involved. Ramza might encounter something or someone that forced him to change his plans, his journey could be delayed by a chance encounter with the enemy or by injury or illness amongst his troops, or he might be caught up in other unforeseen circumstances that were well beyond his control. Besides, even if Izlude did reach Zeltennia before Ramza, what good would it do him? He doubted there was anyone in Zeltennia he could trust with either his identity or his knowledge of Lucavi demons walking the earth. And, even if he did somehow find Delita and could convince him that he was Izlude despite his altered appearance, he rather doubted that Ramza's former friend would be particularly forthcoming. So, the knight blade decided that the best course of action would be for him to follow his original plan and stealthily trail the Beoulve.

Once he judged Ramza's group as being far enough that none of them would glance over their shoulder and spot him, the knight blade entered the courtyard. Perhaps the carnage outside the castle had been less than it was within, or maybe he was simply grateful to escape the pervasive tang of innocent blood. Either way, the knight blade was breathing easier once he tasted the open air. Surveying the area, he saw that this part of the castle had had at least some warning of Hashmalum's rampage...

...not that it had helped.

As per Barrington's austere sensibilities, the "courtyard" had more the look of a parade ground and training area for Riovanes' troops. In the place of many colored flowerbeds, formal hedges and bushes, and aviaries filled with exotic birds, there were instead cobblestone paths and roped off sections of bare dirt. Both were festooned with ramshackle barricades used for training soldiers to vault over obstacles and hastily placed wooden stakes with sharpened tips, all of which had been directed towards the castle doors.

Those that hadn't been smashed to splinters looked to have been simply plucked from the ground and tossed aside like so much litter.

There were also several hitching posts from which dangled lengths of torn leather. Apparently, many of the castle's chocobos had been moved near the outer gate and tethered, presumably so that knights could mount them and make a sally against whatever came through the castle doors. Several others had been placed closer to the outer gate, likely so that, if worse came to worse, dispatch riders could be sent off with calls for help. Judging by the lack of chocobos and the abundance of bird tracks heading towards the outer gate, these chocobos had broken their tethers and fled when they'd sensed just how overwhelming a threat they'd otherwise be facing.

The knight blade had never been one to condone cowardice, but, having become intimately familiar with Hashmalum's handiwork, he supposed he could make an exception.

It did complicate his plans, however. Since Ramza's party had at least several chocobos, Izlude knew his chances of trailing them on foot were slim. Even if Ramza had two or three riders wedged on each one, with others carrying their stored weapons and armor, chocobos possessed incredible stamina and could cover a great distance at speed.

If Ramza's eagerness to discover clues about his sister's fate and the church's plot drove him to force one or two marches through the night, Izlude would have a better chance of catching up to the setting sun.

And, as if that weren't enough, he suspected that the chocobos which had fled earlier were much too far away for him to capture and put to use.

His despair was forgotten, however, when he heard a plaintive "wark".

The knight blade's gaze snapped in the direction of the sound, his heart leaping in his chest. He followed the sound towards the right side of the castle and, as he approached, he heard several warks ringing out in answer to the first.

Then, with the realization echoing in his head like a thunderclap, he remembered what lay in this direction; the castle's stables. Izlude could not help but smile bitterly as he also realized how ironic it was that the Lucavi demons slaughtered nearly every human being at Riovanes (including himself) yet spared the animals living on the estate, even the chocobos in the stables, for not one of them bore a single scratch.

Upon returning to Riovanes with his then-captive, Alma, in tow, he had left his own mount in one of the stalls.

"Nelly, is that you?" he called out, smiling as the warks grew excited.

The knight blade broke into a run, a grin dawning out on his face for the first time in his second life. Reaching the stables, he skidded to a halt before a stall occupied by a gold chocobo that was in nigh ecstasy at the sound of her master's voice.

When she saw him, however, her warks took on a note of perplexity and she backed away warily.

"Nelly, what's wrong with you? I-" Izlude began, trailing off when he caught sight of the hand he'd stretched out to calm his mount.

A hand with skin as pale as milk and unblemished by calluses.

"Oh, sorry about that, girl," Izlude said sheepishly. "I know I look...different. But, it's really me. See? I still sound the same."

Nelly cocked her head to one side and let out another confused wark. She didn't seem ready to break out of the stall and make a run for it, for Izlude knew these stables were too flimsy to hold her. That suggested she'd realized that, as he'd pointed out, he still sounded like her master. However, she was clearly skittish of this peculiarity and, if he tried to enter the stall and saddle her, she'd likely panic and trample him.

Puzzled, the knight blade mulled over what he could do to convince Nelly that he was the same master who'd ridden her in the past. Then, having an inspiration, he thrust one hand into the cell, palm up. Chocobos had a keen sense of smell and, hopefully, the holy stone had not chosen to alter his scent. Nelly reluctantly approached and, after a few whiffs, let out a wark of unmitigated happiness.

"That's a good girl!" Izlude cheered, unlatching the stall door and letting Nelly out.

Nelly gave him an affectionate peck on the head once she was out the door, and Izlude promptly found his mind wandering back to years gone by. Nelly had been a gift from Meliadoul when he'd been inducted into the ranks of the Knights Templar. In fact, since the two were so alike in personality, he'd almost named the chocobo "Melly", after a nickname he'd called his sister by when he was a child.

Meliadoul, true to her nature, had reacted to the idea by giving him an affectionate headlock.

Nelly, as though sensing his train of thought, decided to fill in for his absent sibling by using one wing to drag him in close and pecking a mite more firmly.

"Okay, okay!" Izlude spluttered, futilely trying to bat away the offending beak. "I'm glad you're happy to see me, but I need your help. We've got a long way to go and things to do. And, we don't have much time."

It was often said that a chocobo could sense their rider's mood just as surely as a human's siblings or parents could, and Nelly validated such beliefs by ceasing her shenanigans. Izlude quickly retrieved his saddle and bridle from the stall and strapped both to his mount. He then led her to the castle's granary and armory, where he loaded the saddlebags with provisions and camping gear, as well as appropriated a suit of armor, a helm, a sword, and a shield. Keeping to his earlier plan to avoid attracting notice from prying eyes, he chose the single most nondescript pieces he could find and, the habits of a religious life taking over, left behind their approximate value in gil.

After taking a dead man's identity, he didn't want any other thefts on his already burdened conscience.

He'd been about to depart the castle when he belatedly realized that Nelly was not the only chocobo left in the stables. Several others were poking their feathered heads out of their stalls, warking plaintively as though wondering where their human friends were.

Izlude, however, already suspected the answer to that question.

With the remaining chocobos locked in their stalls and no one to feed them, they'd likely starve before anyone came to Riovanes to investigate. The knight blade's more rational side told him that it would have to be so. He couldn't take the small herd with him when he left, not even if he planned to simply offload them at the nearest town to be resold. Yet another part of him, the part that Alma had touched in him during their time together, urged him to save what lives he could while he had the chance. Deciding to heed the latter voice, Izlude threw open the stalls and released the remaining birds. He could only hope that they would be found and cared for.

Indeed, that was all he could give them under the circumstances; a chance to put this nightmare behind them and, hopefully, find another home.

Alma, he suspected, would have approved.

Izlude guided his bird back to the outer gate and climbed into the saddle. With a flick of the reins, Nelly was in motion. Wings spread, she charged forward as though spoiling for a race. The sudden burst of speed nearly sent Izlude toppling, but he managed to right himself and held onto the reins for dear life.

"Let me take a wild guess," he shouted over the wind howling in his ears. "Somebody didn't listen when I said not to sneak you any more sugar cubes?"

Nelly's only answer was another "wark", but one with a decidedly affirmative tone. The knight blade rolled his eyes, even as the pace caused them to tear up. He supposed he should've expected that. One of the reasons he'd almost given Nelly his older sister's nickname was that, like Meliadoul, she had an uncanny knack for coaxing gifts out of strangers, particularly those she wasn't supposed to have...

...such as those sugar cubes the stable master always took with his tea.

The stable master had been an affable old coot with quite the sweet tooth. He'd always taken a dozen or so sugar cubes with his tea and, with one glance of her big eyes, Nelly could convince him to part with a few. And, despite the knight blade's chiding, the stable master simply could not bring himself to refuse her.

Izlude supposed it was all an exercise in futility anyway. When Nelly wanted a sugar cube, which was often, she could always coax somebody into giving her one...

...and, after that, she'd make Izlude feel like he was riding a bolt of lightning.

"Just how many did he give you anyway?!" the knight blade shouted when he noticed just how rapidly Riovanes was vanishing behind them.

Nelly's only response was a series of warks, so rapid that they all seemed to blend together, which reminded Izlude rather uncomfortably of when he and Meliadoul had mistaken their father's supply of sweetened coffee for hot chocolate, depleted it, and then were ricocheting around the yard for days on end afterwards.

Not only would Nelly not be stopping anytime soon, but the knight blade was suddenly worried about overshooting his quarry.

Shaking his head in frustration, Izlude turned his attention to Ramza's trail. The knight blade knew some of the rudiments of tracking, and it was enough to tell him that the young Beoulve was cunning. By the look of it, he and his friends were riding single-file, with each chocobo trampling the preceding bird's tracks. If someone stumbled upon their trail, they would find it nearly impossible to determine the band's numbers or their destination.

Izlude might have as well, had he not had the ironic fortune of twice being trapped within earshot of his quarry when Ramza and his friends were discussing their plans. This realization filled his heart with fire, which was almost enough to counterbalance the saddle sores accumulating on his hind quarters. He rode onward, giving Nelly her head, through the Yuguo Woods and up Grog Hill. Then, just as he was descending the hill and the sun was nearly gone from the sky, he finally spotted his quarry. Ramza and his band had set camp in a grove of alders near the base of the hill. Letting out a sigh of relief, Izlude gave Nelly's bill an affectionate rub and tried to extricate himself from the saddle.

"Tried to", because his saddle sore ridden lower half promptly folded beneath him and sent him sprawling.

Nelly let out a series of warks that sounded suspiciously like girlish laughter, but Izlude was too busy rubbing life back into his legs to offer complaint.

Locating a cluster of boulders that would hide him from view, Izlude made his camp there. Wary of attracting the group's attention, he shed his armor as quietly as he could and elected not to build a fire. He had planned to sleep almost immediately, but, despite the long journey from Riovanes, not to mention from the realm of the dead, rest proved strangely elusive. Letting out an aggravated sigh, he chose to while away the time by observing Ramza and company, more than a little curious about this band that had slain at least two Lucavi demons and stymied pursuit by church and state alike. Apart from Ramza Beoulve, Agrias Oaks, and the Galthana twins, he also spied several others. He quickly recognized Mustadio Bunansa, both from the vision and the Templar's dossier on the supposed band of heretics. He also spied Lavian Murry and her identical twin sister, Alicia, who'd been Agrias's subordinates before her departure from the Lionsguard.

At least, they'd been knights according to the dossier.

By the look of things, Alicia had elected the path of the monk while Lavian had donned the robe and horned circlet of the summoner. He also spied Rad Phillips, once a mercenary squire who'd fought alongside Ramza when he'd first turned away from his brothers. Now, however, Rad was not a squire but a dark knight, clad in ebony armor and wielding a sword seemingly forged of magma. The knight blade also spotted the six former Hokuten cadets who'd deserted along with Ramza. There were three men; a dragoon, and thief, and a black mage, and three women; a samurai, a ninja, and a white mage. Remembering that Meliadoul was at Ramza's side during the vision, Izlude scanned the campsite for any sign of his older sister. It was a vain hope, to expect that prophecy to be fulfilled so soon, but he nonetheless felt a pang of disappointment when she did not appear.

Still, he recalled the vision and held onto the hope that Meliadoul would, indeed, survive the true conflict of the War of the Lions

Activity in the camp seemed to be winding down, with several members of Ramza's band heading towards their tents. Izlude watched with an upraised eyebrow as Rad waved Lavian and Alicia into his tent, mentioning something about "late night entertainment". Meanwhile, Ramza, despite sending a gently disapproving glance in Rad's direction, put an arm around Agrias and guided her into his tent.

The knight blade, who'd already suspected that the young Beoulve saw the holy knight as more than a subordinate, could not keep a punchy grin from his face as he wondered what Alma would have made of this scene.

That thought prompted him to reaffirm his vow to rescue her and, settling down on the turf, he drifted into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep…

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