Arden's return to Camp Dragonhead, in the company of Lord Francel, was hailed with joy by his friends. But even as Arden was surrounded by hugs and bsckslaps, he was aware of the Inquisitor's gaze upon him.
"Pardon me," he said to his friends, "but might we take this indoors? I was wounded and my arm isn't right."
They retreated to the headquarters building and sat before the fire. Haurchefant and Francel were deep in conference across the room, so the outsiders kept their voices down.
Arden stripped off his tunic and mail shirt, revealing abrasions and barely-closed wounds. It hurt to flex the fingers of his right hand.
"Why did you not heal yourself?" Z'mona murmured in dismay.
"I did," Arden replied. "The wounds are closed, aren't they?"
Alphinaud took his Arcanist's grimoire from where it hung at his belt. The teen paged through it, his fair head bent over it, before arriving at a healing spell. "Ah, here we are. This will take a little time. Arden, will you please tell us what transpired?"
Arden recounted the fight with the heretic knight and his wyvern, and of the way the Inquisitor had been barely turned from his quest for blood. As Arden talked, Alphinaud began to work a healing spell, a cool blue light flowing from his hand into Arden's wounds. It felt like cold antiseptic and stung a little.
Z'mona and Cid listened closely, watching the healing spell at work. Arden kept his voice down, and wished he had not had to undress like this. The room was chilly, and the beautiful patterns of black scales on his chest, back and arms, usually a matter of pride, here felt as if they might draw trouble down upon him.
When he finished his tale, Alphinaud said, "It was a blessed narrow shave, indeed. Thank the Twelve you arrived in time."
Arden closed his eyes and let the healing magic do its work. Beside him, his companions discussed in low voices what they ought to do next. Arden let the conversation flow by him. He had cast so many powerful lily spells that his own aether was spent. He'd been warned during his conjury training that a healer must be careful of that, for in battle, it was one's instinct to draw off their own body's reserves instead of channeling it from the environment. He'd thought he was sourcing it properly, but upon thinking about it, he probably had drawn at least half the lilies from his own essence. Bah. Rookie mistake. As such, he hated to admit it to his friends. He'd have to take time to eat and rest, that was all.
Across the room, Haurchefant and Lord Francel concluded their meeting. They approached the group at the fire, and Francel bowed with a flourish. "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your efforts today. Had not you intervened, I would lie broken at the bottom of Witchdrop. Now I have a fighting chance before the courts of the Holy See."
Arden nodded. "It was the least we could do, sir. Excuse me for not getting up."
Francel waved a hand. "I can see you're injured, sir. I shall not trouble you further. Good day." He and Haurchefant departed.
The group sat in silence for a moment, and Alphinaud kept working. Then Arden said softly, "I want to go home."
"Me too," Z'mona agreed. His ears flattened. "But without the Scions, I have no home left."
"That is a problem," Alphinaud agreed. He lifted his head and met Arden's eyes. They were on eye level for once, Arden's height diminished by slouching in the chair. Alphinaud gazed at him for a long moment. Arden gazed back, wondering what the boy saw. A wounded warrior brought to his knees? A swaggering, bold Auri warrior? Certainly not the weary, wounded young man he was inside, shouldering burdens too heavy for his strength.
"What makes your eyes glow?" Alphinaud asked.
Oh, well then. Arden relaxed a little. "The ring of glowing color in my irises? That is the limbal ring. It is granted by enchantment at the coming of age among the Xaela tribes."
"Fascinating." Alphinaud frowned at his grimoire and turned a page. He kept working.
"I wish I could have eyes such as that," said Z'mona, gazing avidly at Arden. "I noticed them sometimes in the dark."
Arden flexed his right hand and found the soreness easing away. Alphinaud's healing was like the boy himself – logical and methodical. Arden closed his eyes and let himself rest.
After a while, the outer door opened and Haurchefant returned, carrying a folding table, followed by two servants carrying platters under domed covers. Haurchefant set up the table near the outsiders and the servants set the platters on it. They bustled out, leaving Haurchefant to lift the covers with a flourish. Beneath them were stacks of sandwiches crammed with all manner of fillings. A wave of delicious aromas hit Arden's nose and his mouth watered.
"Eat up, my friends," Haurchefant said with a grand wave. "I ordered it from the kitchen as something of a celebration. Afterwards I have news that may interest you."
The group fell upon the sandwiches like hungry dragons upon a flock of roebuck. Arden thought to pull his shirt back on, first, and felt warmer immediately.
"What news?" Alphinaud asked.
Haurchefant held up a finger. "Not until after you're fed. Likely you'll go rushing off on an empty stomach, and there is more snow on the way. I can't let my friends face it hungry."
So they concentrated on their meal, trying each flavor with delight. Some sandwiches contained beef, others a meat paste mixed with spices, others bacon and lettuce, and still others contained jam. Arden ate some of everything and so did his friends. The platters emptied rapidly.
"Now," said Haurchefant as everyone gulped drinks afterwards, "I have news of not one, but two airships."
Everyone looked up in curiosity.
"First, the ship from five years ago," said Haurchefant. He pulled a folded letter from his pocket and opened it. "A witness approached me as I was arranging your luncheon. He had been afraid to come forward earlier because of the heretic situation." He handed Arden the letter, on which were scribbled a few lines.
Airship flew erratically over Whitebrim and made rough landing at the Stone Vigil.
"Whitebrim, where is that?" Arden asked, handing the note to Alphinaud.
"It is a keep about ten malms from here," Haurchefant replied. "If the airship landed near the Stone Vigil, it was likely seized by the garrison stationed there at the time. However, the Stone Vigil is currently occupied by the Dravanians. Your airship will not be recovered without a desperate fight, I'm afraid. We've been trying to recapture it for two years."
There was a short silence as everyone considered this, passing the note from hand to hand. Arden looked at his friends, mentally taking stock of their abilities. "We could do it," he said, "if Arenvald lent us his shield and sword."
Haurchefant laughed a little. "A single friend joining you would make little difference against an army of Dravanians. However, you may speak to Lord Drillemont, the commander in charge there. I and Francel will write you letters of introduction."
"What of the second airship you mentioned?" Alphinaud asked.
"Ah, yes," said Haurchefant. "A Garlean airship flew over the central highlands this morning. It was observed swerving and lurching about until it lost altitude and shed two passengers. They fled into the woods, and the airship was observed landing in a clearing not far off. I judged saving Lord Francel of more important than interfering with Garlean business, but I thought you might be interested."
Alphinaud laid a hand on Haurchefant's arm. His voice trembled with eagerness. "The two passengers – who were they? Can you describe them?"
"A large one and a small one," Haurchefant replied. "Roegadyn and Lalafel, at a guess."
Alphinaud's face lit with hope. "Biggs and Wedge!" he exclaimed to Arden and Z'mona. "They had been at the Waking Sands and were numbered among the missing."
Arden frowned, trying to remember. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar."
"They were our engineers," Z'mona replied. He, too, was grinning in excitement. "Arenvald saved them from a pack of Garleans a while back. They used to work closely with Cid." He turned eagerly to the man sitting nearby. "Do you remember Biggs and Wedge, sir?"
Cid frowned. "I … I am not certain. Perhaps if I met them …"
"We must rescue them!" Alphinaud exclaimed. "How far to the central highlands?"
"Oh, it's some thirty malms from here," said Haurchefant. "A mountain lies between us, you see. You will have to circle it by returning south to the Observatorium and cutting west. A garrison at the outpost there sent us the report."
Alphinaud turned to Arden, eyes shining. "Two of the Scions are in need! We must go to them at once!"
Arden privately thought that the Garleans had likely made short work of the escaped prisoners, but buried this doubt deep. Instead he grinned and clenched his newly-healed right hand. "Let's ride hard, my friends."
The cloudy skies darkened as their chocobos raced south toward the Observatorium. The bulk of a mountain called the Nail stood in frowning cliffs to their right, so jagged and rocky that not even trees could find space to grow. Arden ran along on Swift, feeling as if his bones were being slowly battered apart. Behind him rode Alphinaud, Z'mona, and Cid on rented chocobos. Smaller and lighter, they were also just a little slower than Swift the powerhouse. Arden had time to wonder at Swift's prowess on the race track, and if he had, perhaps, washed out too quickly.
They did not enter the Observatorium's walls, but rested their chocobos outside and watered them at a heated trough.
"See that?" Z'mona said to Alphinaud with complete seriousness, pointing at the observation tower and its telescope. "That's called the FDOAAP."
"Beg pardon?" said Alphinaud.
"The telescope," Z'mona said, his tail curling at the tip with his concealed laughter. "It's called the FDOAAP. Ask Arden, he was there when they told us."
When the young Elezen turned to him inquiringly, Arden kept a straight face. "Of course that's the name. Very pompous they were about it, too."
Alphinaud looked back and forth between them, then peered up at the telescope. His lips moved as he spelled it out. Then he turned to Z'mona and exclaimed, "You mean the First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena?"
Z'mona swung into his chocobo's saddle. "We'd better go before it gets dark."
Alphinaud turned to Arden, but the big Au Ra mounted his bird, as well. "He's right, come on."
They charged away down the road, leaving Alphinaud struggling into his own saddle and exclaiming, "FDOAAP, really? Jesting at my expense?"
Cid followed him, laughing into his fist.
Arden and Z'mona pulled up after a quarter malm to let their companions catch up. Dusk was settling quickly, and the air was heavy and still with the threat of more snow.
As their companions arrived, Arden said, "According to Haurchefant's map, we're headed into the central highlands now. The report came from an outpost out here, so we're headed there first."
"Lead on, then," said Alphinaud, inspecting the sky. "Once the snow begins, it will cover any tracks."
Night had fallen by the time they found the outpost. It was a small stone tower with the inevitable steel spikes on the roof, perched on a hillside above a small river. The guards inside were happy to give them advice, but unwilling to stir from their warm fire.
"The airship was just up there," said a knight, pointing at the distant mountainside. A great splash of corrupted red crystal glowed through the trees. "That's the Boulder Downs, where a couple pieces of Dalamud hit the mountain and made a big crater. We saw the two chaps leap off the ship and run into the woods up there. You'll find their tracks if you look. Take these lanterns."
"What about Garlean soldiers?" Alphinaud asked.
The knight shrugged. "They landed further up but we haven't seen them down here."
"Thank you," said Alphinaud with a bow. He turned to his companions, eyes bright with hope. "There's a chance they're out there, all we have to do is find them!"
"Before they freeze to death," Arden agreed.
They turned their chocobos up the hill. Alphinaud and Cid went north while Arden and Z'mona went south. Both of them had experience hunting, so they rode far apart, scanning the snow for tracks by the light of their lanterns. Even in the dark, the snow had a bit of a shine and sparkled where the light struck it. The ambient pinkish glow from the corrupted crystals in the distance helped, too.
At the crest of a hill, where the trees began, Z'mona leaned halfway off his chocobo, holding his lantern close to the ground. "Tracks!" he announced. "Lalafel, judging by the size, and only a few hours old. This way!"
Z'mona led the way, riding well to one side so as not to overrun the footprints. Arden saw them, too, and followed along in rising excitement. He had not seen a single Lalafel among the knights of Ishgard thus far, so the odds of this being an escaped prisoner were high.
They tracked their quarry through the trees, down another hillside, finally arriving at a bridge over a frozen stream. No tracks led away from it. The bridge itself was hung with icicles, hiding the space beneath from prying eyes.
Arden and Z'mona dismounted and tramped through the snow. No sound reached their ears.
"I'll go first," Z'mona muttered. "He might recognize me." Ducking beneath the bridge, he called, "Wedge?"
Another voice answered him. Arden turned his head, lifting a horn to hear better. If Wedge was able to speak, then he certainly hadn't yet frozen to death.
Z'mona emerged from beneath the bridge, helping Wedge along by one arm. The Lalafel was dressed in the clothing he'd been wearing at his capture in Thanalan days before, and none of it was warm enough for a snow-covered landscape.
"Is that Arden?" Wedge stuttered through chattering teeth. "Praise the Twelve!"
"Ride with me," Arden said. "We'll get you down to the outpost and thaw you out."
He dismounted and hoisted the Lalafel into Swift's saddle, then mounted behind him. Wrapping the front of his coat around the tiny man, he wheeled Swift around and headed downhill. Z'mona followed.
"How are you here?" Wedge said through his teeth as Swift's heavy gate battered him with every step.
"Long story," Arden said. "Was Biggs with you?"
"Yes," Wedge said. "We split up. He led them off but I didn't know where to go. He ran toward the red crystals."
"We'll find him," Arden promised. He pressed a hand against Wedge's back and let healing magic flow into him. Through the stream of aether, he sensed how cold, hungry, and weak Wedge was. In addition, he had many bruises and abrasions from his treatment at the hands of his captors.
"Do you remember Cid Garlond?" Arden asked abruptly.
"The boss? Y-yes," Wedge replied. "He's dead."
"Not so much," Arden said. He explained briefly about Cid's injuries and the loss of his memory. "You'll likely meet him soon, so don't expect him to remember you straight off."
"The boss is alive?" Wedge whimpered. To Arden's chagrin, Wedge burst into tears and sobbed all the way to the outpost. He was still sniffing when the Ishgard soldiers bundled him into blankets and hustled him to a seat before the fire.
"What was his problem?" Z'mona asked as they mounted up again.
"I warned him about Cid's amnesia," Arden said.
Z'mona snorted with laughter. "You had to tell him right then? Poor fellow, one shock after another."
"Well, Cid might have been waiting here, and I had to say something," Arden said, his face growing warm. "I'm going to call Alphinaud, wait a minute." He touched the link pearl tucked beneath his horn. "Alphinaud?"
"Yes?" the boy answered at once.
Arden reported about finding Wedge, and the direction Biggs had gone.
"We're nearing the base of the red crystals now," Alphinaud replied. "We'll keep look – wait, is that fighting?" There was a short pause, then Alphinaud said in a rush, "The Garleans have a man surrounded. We're moving to intervene. Make haste!"
The link pearl went dead. "The Garleans have him!" Arden said to Z'mona, and shook the reins. To Swift, he cried, "Our friend is about to be killed! Run like never before, my Swift beauty, and there will be a bushel of greens for you!"
The chocobo put his head down, opened his wings, and broke into a run Arden had never felt before. He crouched low over the bird's neck, moving with it, no longer jarred by its gait. For the short period of time it took them to cross the ridge and descend its slope toward the red crystal, Arden thought he was riding a gust of wind and not a galloping bird. His heart thrilled and again he thought of the race track. If Swift was capable of such speeds, he could mop the track with the other birds.
They rounded a stand of trees and came upon a group of battling men in black armor. They grappled with a single Roegadyn who threw them off, fighting with his bare fists. Swift was moving too fast to stop in time and plowed straight through the midst of the fight, knocking everyone down. Arden leaped clear and landed on a Garlean soldier, his weight crushing the man's spine as they hit the ground. The man screamed.
Arden drew his sword and leaped to stand back to back with the Roegadyn. "Biggs, I presume?"
"Is that Arden?" Biggs panted. "The white mage? Blind these Cerulean-sucking swine!"
"I dare not risk blinding my friends!" Arden replied. He parried a sword swing and drove his blade into a soldier's throat, then conjured a lily with his free hand and threw it onto Biggs. The big man drew a deep breath and straightened, as if suddenly free of pain.
Then Swift entered the fight, kicking with enough force to break bones and tearing at the soldiers with his beak. Z'mona followed him with a battle yowl, and they tore into the soldiers like a whirlwind into a wheat field. Within moments, they were joined by Alphinaud and Cid. Alphinaud opened his grimoire, summoned a fox-like carbuncle, and sent it into the soldiers to attack with magic. Cid pulled out a machinist's firearm.
The Garleans didn't stand a chance. They had been a lightly-armed scouting party tasked with recapturing two prisoners. Most of them fell and the rest fled into the woods or into the corrupted crystals.
"Let them go," Arden said. "Biggs, can you ride?"
Biggs looked up at Swift, who stood panting with his beak open. "I think the poor chap needs a breather. My legs work fine. We have to find Wedge!"
"Already did," Z'mona said. "He's safe at the outpost across the ridge."
Biggs heaved a relieved sigh. "They were transferring us to a different Castrum for stronger interrogation techniques. We knew they'd torture us to death, so we hijacked the airship just long enough to bring it down and escape. I drew them off so Wedge could get free. It's been hide and seek all over this bloody mountain all day. What took you so long to get here?"
"Apologies," said Arden. "We were up at Camp Dragonhead, saving an innocent man from being executed as a heretic."
Biggs cracked a smile that half-closed one eye. "Well then. Suppose I can forgive you for being late."
They hiked on foot back the way they had come. Their lanterns had gone out in the altercation, but the red crystals at their backs cast a ruddy glow across the snow. Arden noticed that Swift was limping and cast a couple of healing lilies on his legs. Swift chirped, "Hurts still."
"I'll look you over once we return," Arden assured him.
"Plenty greens?" Swift asked.
"Plenty," Arden assured him, and fervently hoped the outpost was well-stocked.
Biggs didn't notice Cid in the dark. Cid walked along in silence, turning often to watch their back trail. Arden kept waiting for either of them to speak, but the party was too intent on reaching shelter and avoiding further attack. In addition, snowflakes began to whirl down, further obscuring them from one another. Arden wondered uneasily if the tall Roegadyn would burst into tears upon reuniting with his old boss, too.
By the time they reached the outpost, the snow was falling fast and thick, collecting on heads and shoulders. They brushed each other off under the shelter of the tower's porch, and stamped snow from their boots. A chocobo stable around the back had space for Swift. A soldier brought him a bucket of water and a sack of greens while Arden tended the chocobo's wounds. He had been wounded, shank and thigh, by the gun blades the Garleans carried. Arden purified the wounds with the Esuna spell, then closed each wound with Cure and Affiliatus Status. Swift munched his greens contentedly, his third eyelid closed most of the time.
Satisfied that his bird would rest easy, Arden entered the warmth of the outpost. He found his friends seated around the fire, sipping mugs of hot tea and eating the inevitable onion soup. He sat on the hearth and accepted his own tea and soup bowl, which drove away the chill quite well.
Biggs was busy giving an account of the Garleans' movements to the captain of the garrison and hadn't seemed to notice Cid. Cid sat off to one side, his heavy coat collar turned up, working on his own meal in silence. But Wedge appeared not to have taken his eyes off him. The Lalafel stared so much that Cid tugged his collar a little higher, trying to block him out.
Z'mona rose and came to sit beside Arden, hands cupped around his own mug. He didn't say anything, only slouched there in the fire's warmth and seemed to stare into space. But one ear was pointed at Biggs, and the other was firmly fixed on Cid. The end of his tail curled and uncurled like the nervous drumming of fingers.
Biggs finished his report and sat down heavily in a chair made of oak slabs. It didn't look very comfortable, but it was strong enough to support the Roegadyn's weight. He wearily slurped his soup and gazed into the fire. The Ishgardian guards retreated to their quarters further up the tower and left their guests alone.
Wedge got up and went to stand beside the chair. He whispered something, and Biggs bent his head down. After a moment he straightened with a startled expression, his attention focused on the hunched figure in the corner.
At this moment, Alphinaud cleared his throat. "I believe introductions are in order." He rose to his feet, wearing a blanket around his shoulders like a cloak. "Biggs and Wedge, meet Cid Garlond, late of Garlond Ironworks and thought lost in the Calamity. We are here to recover his lost airship, and, we hope, his memories along with it."
"This … this ain't no prank?" Biggs said, rising to his feet.
"It's him, I swear it's him," Wedge insisted.
Cid turned his head and peeled at them over the edge of his collar like a rabbit peeking at a dog from the safety of its hole.
Biggs gazed at him uncertainly. He took a hesitant step toward Cid, then a few more, then knelt before him. This brought the giant down to the hyur's eye level. "Boss?" Biggs whispered hoarsely. "Is that you?"
Cid seemed to gather his nerve. He rose to his feet and bowed, first to Biggs, then to Wedge. "I have been badly hurt for a long time and remember only vague impressions of what came before. I hope more will return in time. Meanwhile, if you were my friends and colleagues before, I shall simply have to make your acquantice all over again." He sat down again.
Wedge sat on one side of Cid and Biggs sat on the other side. "We'll stand by you, boss," said Biggs, sounding choked up. "We stuck with you through thick and thin before the Calamity, and by all the Twelve, we'll do it again."
"We've … we've been lost without you," Wedge said, also sounding teary. "We tried to keep on building airships without you. The Ironworks must go on and all. We had orders from every city-state. But without you, it's been so much harder."
Cid brightened. "Tell me about these airships."
Biggs and Wedge launched into an ever more complicated explanation of the sorts of airships they built and how they worked. To Arden, it sounded like a different language he desperately wanted to learn. His own desire to own an airship someday flared brightly inside him. Should Cid regain his memories, perhaps the wish was not as vain as he had first thought.
While this talk went on, Z'mona began to nod off and slumped against Arden. Nearby, Alphinaud was slumping lower and lower in a chair, eyes drifting closed. It was growing late and they'd done many things that day. Arden felt sleep growing on him and shook himself awake. He rose to his feet. "We'll bed down on the floor by the hearth here, everyone. Wrap up warm."
In a few minutes the whole party had become mounds of blankets on the floor. Biggs, Wedge, and Cid lay together a little apart from the others, still whispering about propulsion and aether dynamics. Arden fell asleep long before they stopped talking.