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Chapter 22: Cycle of Vengeance

The darkness did not hold her long. In spite of the pain, and in spite of her fear, she fought her way free, because there was a hope of escape and freedom, tantalizingly close.

But by the time Teta was conscious again, the windmill was gone from her sight. She was splayed across the back of Gregory's chocobo, her legs and ankles bound again, a rough length of cloth tied around her head and clenched between her jaws, so she could taste the smothering dust and must of it. The air was brisk, and afternoon was giving way to evening.

What was she supposed to do now? Roll free? Idiotic, she'd just hurt herself, and they'd be on her in moments.

She felt like crying. She'd been so close. She'd been so fucking close, and now-

No. Just like the Academy, there was no time for self-pity. Weakness would be seized upon, if she showed it.

And what if Delita were dead? What if there was no rescue coming? What if...

No no no no no. Stop it. Survive. A moment will come, if you are vigilant, and you are careful. If...if Delita is dead...

He's not he's not Wiegraf said he would try he said.

That didn't matter. Think of the facts, Teta. If Delita is alive, he will still come after you. If...if he's not, than Wiegraf is alive, and he'll see you free.

You selfish bitch.

Selfish. Her brother could be dead, and all she could think about was her own skin.

I can't save him.

No. She was so powerless. For the first time in her life, she really understood Alma. She wanted a sword in hand, power enough to put an end to all these tragedies.

And what would spring from that act of vengeful righteousness? Assassins raiding the Beoulve Manor? Ramza Beoulve killing Miluda, as her brother chased after her? How much more violence would be born from one swing of her blade? How many more brothers, sisters, fathers, daughters, mothers, and sons would be left grieving?

So hard to keep ahold of her thoughts. Drifting away into the darkness. It was so hard to breathe, her mouth stuffed with cloth, her nose struggling to take in the air she needed.

She drifted in and out of the dark, and then in between gradients of night as the sun set and the heavy snowclouds blanketed the stars. The air kept getting colder, so Teta was shuddering with it, so that her joints felt achingly tight with the promise of frost on the air.

"Who goes there!" called a voice from the pre-dawn twilight, startling Teta so much she almost rolled off the chocobo.

"Gregory Levigne!" shouted Gregory.

"Ride on!"

They rode farther, and Teta could heard the distant crashing of the ocean against the cliffs. As dawn broke, their destination loomed ahead. A fortress of crumbling black stone, with cannon ports pressing out towards the sea. Planks of wood and metal had been plastered here and there to reinforce the ruined fort.

Gregory slid off the side, then grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her to the ground. She hit against her shoulder, hard: fire scorched out, down her arm and into her throat. She screamed into the gag.

Rough hands pulled the gag away from her mouth. She gasped, in pain and in gratitude for the sweet freedom of breathing, and cold air flooded her lungs and throat, and Gregory pressed his foot against her chest.

"He called you Teta, Beoulve," Gregory said. "And you answered to it."

Teta's blood felt far colder than the winter air around her.

"Who are you?" Gregory asked, his sword in hand, his eyes wild.

What to say? She wasn't supposed to be here. Wiegraf had told her...this man was...

But the promised protection of the powerful meant nothing if your protectors weren't there when you needed them. She'd learned that lesson in the Academy, when the others had come for her where Alma couldn't see. Why was she still alive, right now?

"Alma Beoulve," she whispered.

"Yeah?" Gregory said. "So why'd you answer when he said Teta?"

"I..." Teta closed her eyes, searched for the right words. The words that would keep her alive.

"He's my lover," she said. She almost gagged. Calling her brother her lover, but...but why else would he cry out her name so fiercely? And why else would she respond in kind? It was the only thing she could do to hide.

"And he doesn't know your name?" Gregory said.

"That's what he calls me," Teta said.

"So what's his name?" Gregory asked.

"Delita," Teta said. "You heard me say it."

"What is he?" Gregory asked. "Duke? Baron? Maybe you decided to dirty yourself with a knight? Take a walk on the wild side?" His words were jagged, just like his eyes. He looked wild.

"He's not...he's..." This was a difficult lie to keep up, and her head still hurt.

"Foxe," Gregory said. "Have some fun."

Teta felt nauseating fear rise up in her like a fog. Foxe blinked in consternation behind Gregory, his eyes flickering between his commander and Teta on the ground. "You sure?" he said.

"If she wants to change her story, let me know," Gregory said.

Foxe's mouth spread into a leering grin, and he moved towards her with purpose, hands already reaching for her. Teta curled back against her bonds, shying away from him, as though there were any hope of escape now that even the feeble protection of her false name had been ripped away and-

And there was a shimmering, and Foxe dropped to the ground, moaning, and a red-headed woman towered over him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Radia asked, in a voice at once sleepy and dangerous.

A moment's precarious silence. No one moved.

"Whoever this woman is, she's lying to us," Gregory said. "She tried to run."

"Yeah?" Radia stepped over Foxe's body, and glared into Gregory's face. "It's funny. I was awfully tired, but I thought I heard Wiegraf order you to leave her."

Gregory's face spasmed with guilt. "You...you weren't awake!"

"I'm not like you," Radia said. "I'm a soldier. Not a coward who kills and rapes because they're scared."

"I didn't-!" Gregory hissed.

Radia turned away from him, and kicked Foxe in the stomach. Foxe moaned in pain, curling in on himself, and Radia reached down and drew his sword.

"I'm taking her inside," Radia said. "Any of you fuckers try anything, you die."

She moved towards Teta, and cut her free of her bonds. Teta gasped in pain as blood rushed back into her wrists and ankles. Radia helped her to her feet, and Teta was forced to lean on Radia as they hobbled towards the fort. Through all this, no one moved to stop her.

"Thank you," Teta whispered.

"Least I could do," Radia replied.

Radia helped her up a series of sloping rock steps, worn and broken from age and inattention. She led Teta across a rickety wooden bridge. A fat snowflake drifted down out of the sky as they crossed that creaking bridge. It landed, cold and wet, upon Teta's forehead. She shuddered at its touch.

Radia led them off the bridge, through the heavy wooden door secured with iron fastenings. A soldier lurked within, staring at them with confusion. Radia brushed past him, ignoring questions that Teta couldn't hear. Everything seemed to be fading into a mental fog. Her head pounded where Gregory had hit her.

They were in a closet of some kind, empty of anyone else, heaped with crates. Teta couldn't recall how they'd gotten there. Radia was speaking, but Teta couldn't hear her.

She broke down crying all at once, and pressed her face into the stinking leather of Radia's chestplate. Radia patted her awkwardly, and Teta barely noticed the feeble attempt at reassurance, because Foxe had been closing in and her shoulder hurt and her head hurt and Delita had been right there and she was supposed to be free right now why was she here why was she here?

She stopped crying at some point, pressing her damp and sticky face into the place where Radia's neck met her shoulder. The other woman smelled like fire and sweat and dirt and blood and something else, something that brought all those scents together and made them pleasant, like memories she hadn't made yet. She followed that scent back to calm, and back to thoughts that clicked together and made sense. Radia had her arm curled around her, fingers stroking her upper arm.

"Heiral, huh?" Radia said.

Teta stiffened, tried to pull away from Radia, and found that Radia wasn't letting her go. It wasn't a threatening gesture: Radia's grip around her tightened in comfort and companionship, and pulled her close.

"It's okay," Radia said.

No it wasn't. Nothing was okay.

"Teta," Teta whispered, and felt something crack in her. She'd disavowed the name for so long. Wiegraf's discovery had been a shock, but then, the threat had been in her mind. Now it was real. It's shadow still hung over her.

"And your brother?" Radia asked.

"Delita," Teta said.

"He's the one who killed Miluda," Radia mused.

Teta couldn't see Radia's face where she was, but there was nothing of danger or threat in the the woman. It was just like it had been back at the Plateau: for whatever reason, Teta felt safe here.

"I'm sorry," Teta said.

"Me too," Radia said.

"How'd you find out?" Teta asked.

"He told us. Told us who he was. Who you were." Radia chuckled. "Made a lot of sense, all at once. Why you were so..."

Teta didn't know what Radia intended to say. She didn't ask.

"The Beoulve," Radia said.

"Ramza?" Teta replied.

"He didn't kill me," Radia said. "He didn't kill anyone."

Teta said nothing, though her thoughts were sparking in a dozen different directions. First to Ramza and the day in the old Beoulve estate nearly Lesalia, then back to Wiegraf, back to the Plateau, back to Alma, back to the Academy.

"You really wouldn't?" Radia asked. "Even...even now?"

Harder now, wasn't it? When Foxe had loomed over her, and Gregory's sword had been pointed at her throat?

"Maybe I would," Teta admitted. God, the idea of slicing Foxe's throat, or plunging a blade into Gregory's chest...the idea of fighting her way free of this place, however bloody that path might be...it was a powerful temptation.

"But I..." She closed her eyes and buried herself against Radia's chest. "I shouldn't."

Because look what had happened, from so little? How enraged Wiegraf and Miluda had become, and Delita had come for her, and she had been taken by Gregory, and on and on and on, so many men and women hurt by this small fight, how many men and women and children killed and suffering in wars like this across Ivalice, across the world. How small was her pain and terror, beside it all.

"I don't know if I believe that," Radia said.

"I know," Teta said. "I...I don't blame you."

Things didn't seem quite as clear as they had on the Plateau. Teta still couldn't accept the horrors violence could wreak, but she could much better understand why such horrors might be necessary. So where did that leave her?

Radia left for a little while, locking the door behind her. She returned with a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal, and Teta ate it gratefully, shoveling the tasteless mush into her mouth until her stomach ached with it. The wind howled somewhere outside, and there was the low whispering hiss of snow upon stone.

"Sounds bad out there," Teta said.

"It is," Radia replied. "Should buy us some time, actually."

Teta chuckled, and then laughed harder at the baffled, almost indignant look on Radia's face. "Sorry," Teta said. "It's just...I'm probably hoping they keep marching, and you-"

Radia gave a low grunt that might have been a repressed snort. She seemed torn between amusement and anger.

"Why's this fort so important?" Teta asked.

"Lotta reasons," Radia said. "This powder room's one of them."

"Powder...?" Teta repeated. The word tickled some part of her mind, but she couldn't quite remember what it meant.

"Gunpowder," Radia said.

Teta jerked away from one of the crates, her head filled with tales of terrible explosions, of cannonfire and forts laid to ruin. Radia laughed. "Don't worry," she said. "These crates are sealed tight. You probably couldn't start something if you tried." Radia shrugged. "Stuff doesn't get used too much, since a mage can use it and blow their enemies to hell. But the fort's well-protected, and I guess it was supposed to do...something. If the Romandans came. We wanted the fort for the walls, but there's a lot of this stuff that got left behind."

"Mainly, though," Radia continued. "It's...it's the only way through the pass between Gallione and Fovoham. Nowhere else to run, if we lose it."

And how was Teta supposed to feel about that? About the idea of her kidnappers, tormentors, and would-be rapists slaughtered by the Hokuten? How many Foxes were in the ranks of the Corps? How many Gregorys? How many Miludas? How many Wiegrafs?

How many Radias?

There was a knock upon the door. "Radia-" came Gregory's voice, and Teta shied back from the door as a flash of electric fear numbed her fingers and toes. She scrambled against the far wall.

"I'll take the hand that opens that door!" Radia shouted, grabbing for her sword.

"It's Wiegraf," Gregory said.

Radia's eyes widened. She looked in shock at Teta, who felt her thoughts moving slow and sluggish. Gregory, who'd loomed over her with his sword pointed at her, who'd left the aching goose-egg atop her skull, was standing outside. But it was Wiegraf he wanted to talk about. Wiegraf, who'd treated her with such kindness, even after his sister's death.

Teta nodded slowly, and Radia unlocked the door in one swift move, and stepped back with her sword pointed towards the door. "Nice and slow!" she called.

The door creaked open, and Gregory came through with his hands raised.

"What do you want?" Radia demanded.

"We just got word," Gregory said. "Wiegraf's joined up with the units fighting to hold the pass. The Hokuten brought mage units with them. The snow's not slowing them down."

Even Teta knew that wasn't good. No one risked their mages in the field if they could help it, but...but these people had attacked Dycedarg. Jesus, had they killed him? Was that why the Hokuten were hunting them like this? Was Dycedarg dead? Wretched woman, not even sparing a thought to him after he fought to keep you safe, after-

"He sent word," Gregory said. "Your powers work on mages, too, yeah?"

"Most of the time," Radia said. She shot a cautious glance at Teta, then looked back to Gregory. "If I leave, she's coming with me."

Gregory laughed. It was an awful sound, jagged and wrong, like metal scraped against the grain. "Feel free," he said. "Take the noble bitch out into a blizzard, and hope the Hokuten don't kill her 'cause they think she's one of us."

Would the Hokuten really do that? No, stupid question, of course they would. Fighting their way through a blizzard, attacked on all sides...why wouldn't they? They'd have to assume anyone in front of them was an enemy. Hell, they might even kill her in the name of rescuing her.

"He's right," Teta mumbled. "It's...it's okay."

Radia looked back at her and locked eyes. Radia looked every tired, and a little bit scared. Scared of what, though? Or maybe that was a stupid question. There was an awful lot of be scared of.

Radia looked back at Gregory and nodded. "She stays in here," Radia said. "Foxe comes with me. No one touches her."

Gregory arched his eyebrows. "You want Foxe watching your back after what you did to him?" Gregory asked.

"I trust him out there more than I trust him in here," Radia said.

Gregory shrugged, and Radia turned back to Teta, placing her hands on Teta's shoulders. "I'll be right back," she said. Teta nodded, and Radia pushed Gregory out of the room and closed and locked out the door behind her. As they walked away, Teta heard Radia say, "Tell me exactly what I'm dealing with."

Teta pressed her fingers to the faded runes on the wall, tried to remember the lessons they'd learned at the Royal Preparatory Academy—how to treat your inherent magic as a separate limb, how to imagine it moving and working in ways that normal limbs couldn't. The rune flickered, embers of light glowing for a moment along its curving length, and then faded again. Teta shook her head and curled back into the dark, her arms around knees.

Sometime later, the lock clicked, and Teta barely had time to take her feet before Radia entered the room, with a canteen in one hand and a bucket in the other. She put the bucket in the farthest corner, than offered the canteen to Radia

"Not much food left for anyone," Radia said. "Water's a little easier, but you can't exactly step out. Stay in here as long as you can. I think..." Radia closed her eyes. "One way or another, it's almost over."

Teta moved forwards, and wrapped her arms around the taller woman. Radia stiffened in her grasp, then relaxed. She buried her face in Teta's shoulder, and they held each other, weak and tired and frightened.

"Good luck," Teta said.

"You too," Radia replied.

Radia left the room again. Teta was alone.

She drank a little water. She used the bucket. She paced this powder room, wondering what had become of Dycedarg, Wiegraf, Ramza, Radia, Delita. She tried and failed to get the old runes working again. And eventually, tired and anxious and hungry, she slept.

She awoke to the sound of the key turning in the lock. She raised her head and shielded her eyes as the door swung open, the light blinding her, so all she could see were blurred shadows, but something was wrong, that wasn't Radia, that wasn't-

She cried in fear and rushed forwards, trying to slam the door closed, but Gregory shouldered past her and shoved her backwards. She stumbled, and hit the ground hard, adding a new aching bruise to the medley across her body.

She scrambled back as far as she could. Gregory didn't follow. His eyes were wide, the dark circles under his eyes emphasized by how pale and weak his face looked. Patchy stubble pattered his jawline.

"They're here," Gregory said.

Teta didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

"The Hokuten," Gregory said. "Your brother, he...he's looking for you."

Delita? She couldn't fight the fierce shock of relief that warmed her insides, her sleepy, panicked brain forgetting everything in that moment. But her instincts took over, and she remembered the lie that had kept her alive. It had to be a Beoulve who had come.

"Let me go," Teta said, trying to speak with that careless confidence Alma and the other girls had, the easy authority that comes from living in a world that has almost always obeyed you. "I will see he treats you fairly."

Gregory laughed. It sounded like an animal being strangled. "If you were in my shoes, Beoulve," he asked. "Would you trust you?"

Teta opened her mouth to answer, and then remembered the woman wheezing and dying in that tent on the Plateau.

"You're never going to let me go," Teta whispered, and she started shaking, so hard she could barely stand. She leaned against one wall, trying to keep herself upright.

"If they stand aside-" Gregory said, with desperation in his voice.

"After what you did to Dycedarg?" she asked. She stared at his pale, miserable face. "You brought them here. You're the reason for all of this."

Gregory's face spasmed into a hateful glower. "I didn't send us home with empty pockets!" he shouted. "I didn't take the Marquis! I didn't bully and rape and torture my way to-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "This isn't my fault," he muttered. "It's not...I didn't..."

He trailed off, and there was silence in the room.

"Radia?" Teta asked.

Gregory shook his head. "Never came back," he whispered. "No one came...fighting in the night, and the Hokuten are here, and-"

Gregory kept talking. Teta couldn't hear him. Radia, gone. Wiegraf, too. Who knew what had become of Delita and Ramza?

"Gregory!" someone shouted outside the door. "They're coming!"

Gregory stopped talking, and locked eyes with Teta. Teta swallowed. Her only hope for escape lay in Gregory's hands now. Everyone else was dead.

She nodded, and Gregory stepped back, and let her past him. She half-considered running, and almost laughed. Run through a fortress she didn't know, filled with who knew how many enemies, on the off-chance she could find her way through the snow to Hokuten soldiers who wouldn't cut her down as a suspected enemy. Hopeless. It all felt so hopeless.

The woman who'd called out to warn them was standing in an intersection a little ways down from them. Her arm was bandaged, and she was leaning heavily on a crutch, and every part of her ragged clothing seemed crusted with old food or old blood or something worse. "Left here," Gregory said, and left they went, past other wounded men and women, some slowly organizing supplies, some on bedrolls with glazed eyes, and it felt so much like the plague tents again, so much like those old scenes of violence and pain.

She reached the large door through which Radia had led her (When? When had that happened? How long since she'd been taken?), and Gregory shoved it open, and the cold rattled through the door and into her bones. Teta shuddered, and Gregory wrapped an army around her shoulders and his sword was out, gleaming just beneath her eyes.

"Coming out!" Gregory shouted, and shoved her outside, and the bright sunlight burned into her eyes and it took her a moment to see...

There, on the other end of the rickety wooden bridge, was Zalbaag, with his bastard sword drawn and a heavy brown cloak hanging down over his black armor. Argus was at his side, furs draped over him, an arrow nocked to his bow. Two men in Hokuten cloaks stood just behind them. The skies were grey overhead, and crisp snow drifted down from on high, slow and steady.

So close. She hadn't known rescue was so close.

"No closer!" Gregory shouted. "Or your sister's blood hits the snow!"

Argus raised his bow, and Zalbaag thrust a warning hand in front of him. "It's over!" Zalbaag called. "Let her go!"

"I want you gone, Hokuten," Gregory said. "Pull your men back from this fort."

Zalbaag shook his head. "You're up against the wall. Put down your sword and surrender. I'll see you treated fair."

"I've seen what you people do to your prisoners," Gregory said. "And we both know you're not gonna try anything with your sister's life in the balance. If you do, I'll blow a crater in the side of this god damn mountain. Back off."

"TETA!"

The cry took her by surprise: she twisted a little in Gregory's grasp, even as he cursed at her and struggled to pull her back. There, down beneath the bridge, she saw Delita and Ramza, swords in hand.

"An ambush!" Gregory cried, so loud it stung her ear. "You'll pay for this, Hokuten!"

"Argus, now!" Zalbaag cried.

Teta was struggling to keep her feat as the bridge creaked beneath her. She almost didn't hear the twang of the bow. Pointed lightning burst somewhere along her throat, and suddenly Teta was falling, tumbling through the air, tumbling through the whirling snow, hot and cold and dark and light and-