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By Zura of Quetzalcoatl
The ale was warm. He hated warm ale.
Wistful, he sat in the bustling Lion Springs Tavern, intensifying the
contrast between its activity and his lethargy. He sipped the tepid mug of
ale simply because it was in his hand. He preferred chilled wine, but this
place would never serve the “sissy drink” and ruin its image of a rough and
tumble place. That would be bad for business.
Alone in the corner booth Zura Lightbane sat, noble Elvaan face hidden in
the shadow of the wide brimmed conical hat he was wearing. It seemed to be
the most expensive item on his person, a black finely crafted masterpiece.
His dark hair struggled to escape from the side and neck. His body was
covered in a custom armor suit, made of overlapping strips of soft brown
leather a foot long. It seemed somewhat scale like, but not quite. His left
arm was engulfed in a gray metal buckler, light but formidably hard and many
notched. On his back was a gray cape that ran down the length of his tall
frame.
His appearance, like many things about the man, was only a cover, a shroud.
Underneath the armor was reinforced with fine mythril chain. The cloak was
enchanted and fireproofed him against natural or magical flame alike. And
the well used double edged broadsword on his hip had the wicked gift of
lightning forged into the blade.
“Zura? Zura Lightbane?” came a little voice. It was so hard to hear in the
din of the tavern at first he thought he’d imagined it.
“Mr. Lightbane!” the voice insisted, louder. The Elvaan looked down and
there was an elegantly dressed Tarutaru, a colorful suit of expensive
clothes. Mentally, Zura groaned. He didn’t have anything against them as a
race. It was the little things that bothered him. The fact that they made
the best mages in Vana’diel offended his overdeveloped racial pride. Nearly
every single one he encountered was obnoxiously cheerful. And he could never
quite tell male and female apart.
The Taru climbed up onto the chair with a little effort, standing instead of
sitting. But this was San d’Oria, and the little face barely cleared the
table to make eye contact with the Elvaan lounging across from it.
“What, pray tell, may I help you with today?” Zura began genially.
“You are the mercenary Zura, correct, taru?”
“We’ll assuming you’ve found me using the description of Zura the mercenary,
that would be fairly obvious.” he said with a smile.
“Don’t patronize me, low-life. I’d only consider hiring you based solely on
your alleged reputation. Don’t push it, taru.”
Zura’s grin faded but his curiosity had been piqued. Clearly this would not
be an ordinary assignment. “My apologies, friend. Seeing as you’ve come all
this way, why don’t you tell me what job you had in mind.”
“You will escort my daughter to Jueno by airship. You will be paid
handsomely and round trip airfare will be provided. That is all.”
His heart sank. Escort duty. No one in San d’Oria would even think of
assaulting him without a battalion. That wouldn’t happened aboard an
airship. The only exciting thing would be the airship ride back, since he
wouldn’t have to watch the brat then. The pay would probably be crappy too.
“I’m willing to offer you 10,000 for this task, taru.”
10,000! Zura would carry her on his back on all fours the entire way to
Jueno for that much! He could hardly believe his pointy ears. But…
“This is not all, of course. You have been selected for a number of reasons.
The first and most important is that you realize this is a discreet mission.
No one besides you must know anything about your destination or that you
even travel with a companion, taru.”
“What kind of opposition might I be facing here?”
The Taru sighed. “My years in business have made me many enemies, harmless
and serious. It is the latter that I believe threatens my family, taru. I
sent my daughter to the Academy of the White Rose for protection. No doubt
you’ve heard of them. ”
Of course he had. Anyone who even held a sword in San d’Oria knew of them.
Dedicated to white magic and combat, the training center was a veritable
fortress. They turned out some of the best paladins in the world, most of
who went on to serve the Royal Family.
“You suspect an attack on the airship?”
The Taru nodded.
“Why not hire a phalanx of guards then? Why just me?”
“That would attract unwanted attention to her. And it is a fact that the
larger the group of people, it becomes that much easier to corrupt one of
them. You’re a mercenary, and a well known one at that. Only as good as your
last job, taru.”
“This is true.”
“Will you do it then, taru?”
“Yaya.”
“Excellent. Be at the Port tomorrow at 11:30 sharp. Your tickets will be
waiting at the gate. My daughter will meet you in the cabin and provide
further instructions.”
“You got yourself a deal. You’re daughter is as good as safe.”
--------------------
The next day found Zura in Port San d’Oria, fishing patiently off the docks.
It had been a good night, good enough for him to rush to the nearby tavern
and sell his catches when he saw the massive airship descending from the
sky. He put the telescoping rod back into his pack, along with the standard
equipment he took on every job. There was everything he would need to
survive in the wilderness, fish and clean his weaponry, which he did
obsessively.
The day was cloudy, creating an even better cover for his darting eyes. Zura
ran them over every passerby and stranger as he approached the gate. The
airship rumbled into the port and one by one the engines powered down and
shut off. A slew of arrivals left the small building he was in. He eyed them
surreptitiously, despite the fact he knew it was unlikely any would be a
threat.
As soon as the ship was boarding he was on, straight on into the first class
decks. The ship was organized by importance; the main deck dominated by a
medium sized building that would have looked equally impressive on land. The
top most likely held the captain and any VIPs on the trip. The deck level
would hold the first class passengers and kitchen. Below decks would be the
cheapest cabins, the engine rooms, and mess hall and crew quarters. Zura had
been on an airship only once before, and had never been to any of the rooms
above decks.
He opened the door to his cabin. It was fancy, more fancy then Zura’s home.
The large bed, table, four chairs, dresser and armoire were made of a dark
wood that just smelled expensive. He lay down on the bed, preferring a
stiffer mattress. His body sank down into this one, and although he liked a
different kind, a man could get used to this…
Zura heard a creak by the door. Noiselessly he slid from the bed to the
door, flattening himself against the wall. His sword he pulled slowly from
the scabbard, oiled specifically to make no sound as it left the protective
case. The door opened slowly, the blue gloved hand the only part of the
attacker he could see.
The mystery man stepped into the room, wearing a hooded tunic and pants of a
dark blue. The mercenary finished drawing his weapon and rested the point on
the man’s back, directly behind the heart. The assailant froze.
“Move and die. If you talk I assume you’re casting a spell and you die.” He
shut the door slowly. The man was a good foot shorter then Zura, probably a
Hume assassin. The mercenary did not see any weapons, but didn’t mean
anything. He pulled the hood off, revealing head of tumbling light brown
hair. He wasn’t too acquainted with Hume fashion, but he could swear only
females wore their hair long.
He turned the man around and was stunned to find a beautiful Hume woman. She
had high cheekbones, a perfect complexion and light green eyes. Her small
nose complimented her thin lips and she had the overall appearance of a
noble, through and through.
Zura stared dumbly for a moment and hastily sheathed his weapon. “You’re…”
“Cassiera.” She said. “Were you expecting someone?”
“No, I just…thought….”
“I would be a Taru.” she said, laughing. “I’m adopted, obviously.”
“Yeah, obviously…well, glad to see you made it in one piece, my name is-”
“Zura Lightbane.” She finished again. “You wouldn’t think I would entrust
myself to someone I didn’t even research, would you?”
“Well…most people don’t.”
“You insult my intelligence, Mr. Lightbane.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. And just Zura, please. You have something for
me, yes?”
She produced a small scroll and handed it to him, taking a seat on the bed.
Zura read it as he stripped of the gear he wouldn’t need, shedding it to the
floor. His sword remained on his hip.
“The trip will take four days. Upon your arrival in Jueno take her to the
Consulate of Bastok. Leave her there and speak to the consul to receive your
bounty. The return ticket does not expire. Please stay in the Jueno area for
at least two days in order to throw off any suspicions about your
intentions. If someone is watching you, they will expect my courier to
escort Cassiera to the Consul and depart for San d’Oria immediately. This is
not a demand but a request. I will consider using your services again if all
goes well.”
When he was done, he let go of the scroll. It snapped back into the curl it
previously occupied. He opened it back up and examined the ink. It was well
set, far from fresh. Maybe a week old.
“I take it your search for a more suitable escort did not go so well?” he
asked, moving his gear to the corner.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father has known for a lot longer then yesterday I would be the one to
escort you. I take it a more respected and suitable sword could not be
found.”
“I…”
“Does it make you uncomfortable? To have someone like me so close, depending
on me if something were to happen?”
“Slightly.”
At least she was honest. “Here how its going to work. I’ve been up all night
fishing-”
“That’s what that smell was.”
“Yeah, anyway, I’ll sleep now and when you get tired wake me. I’m sure you
know that your presence in this room is to be concealed. If you hear
something suspicious, someone comes to the door, you want a cookie, tell me,
don’t do anything yourself.”
“I’m going to go up on the deck for a while.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think you heard me just fine. In case you didn’t, no.”
“You can’t tell me what do!”
“Look, princess, I don’t care who you are, what your opinion is or how many
times a week your daddy buys you shoes. I’m contractually obligated to keep
you alive for the next four days, not to be your attendant or even be nice
to you. So shut up and enjoy the flight, huh?”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out. “Well good, I’m glad it is settled.
Kindly move off the bed, I’m quite tired.”
She glared at him and moved to a chair. Zura gladly sank into the bed again,
pulling the hat down over his eyes. The gentle rock of the waves below
worked its lullaby on him and minutes later he was in a light sleep.
--------------------------
She nudged him awake. It was some time after sunset, maybe an hour. He could
not see a change in the candle-lit room, but the mercenary had developed a
keen sense of time. There came a knock on the door a moment later, and
behind it a timid voice said, “Sir? Sir? Dinner is being served now. Hello?”
“Ah, yes, what’s on the menu?”
“Menu? Oh…there is no menu for first class sir. We take your order.”
“Bloody rich people.” He said, thinking it but surprised as anyone else when
it came out. “Er, anything?”
“Anything.”
“Alright, the let’s go with two steamed golden lobsters, a slice of roast
mutton, two loaves of bread, four green apples and a salad.”
“Something to drink?”
”Red wine and milk.”
“Is that all sir?”
“Um, is it alright if I take my meal in here?”
“All first class meals are served in the private cabin, sir. That’s what the
table is for.”
“Oh right…er, splendid.”
He did not hear the waiter leave, and had to crouch down to the floor and
look under the crack to see if the feet were still there. Cassiera laughed
quietly from the corner.
“Something funny?” he asked.
“Besides your hat? Obviously you’ve never ridden first class. The servant
would have gone at the proper time, he’s trained that way. Eavesdropping
could get him rightfully fired.”
Zura was about to comment, but something triggered in his mind. The part
about him never riding first class. He had made a tactical error by letting
the waiter know he was a first time rider. No mercenary he knew could afford
such a trip. It would be painfully obvious to anyone who was looking what he
was really doing on the airship.
“Dammit…” he mumbled, angered by his own incompetence. Cassiera had been
studying his face the whole time, while he imagined the waiter slipping an
extra ingredient into the wine or food. Maybe an unscrupulous cook overheard
the waiter’s comments about a silly new flyer and added a lethal pinch of
some poison. He imagined himself writhing on the floor, dying to an unseen
enemy.
“You couldn’t have known. Not everyone who rides first class does it from
birth. I doubt he had anything to do with a conspiracy anyway.” Cassiera
said.
She caught on fast, for a civilian. He didn’t like this closeness to a
charge. Normally the closest he got was riding side by side on a chocobo.
This was too personal for his liking. He dismissed his thoughts on the
matter.
The food arrived an hour later, exactly what he prescribed to the waiter.
They were careful to keep Cassiera out of sight. Zura gorged himself on the
lobster, usually dining of crayfish if he wanted to eat anthropoid. Although
there was plenty to go around, he insisted on tasting and sipping everything
before she ate any.
After dinner, Zura sat playing cards at the table and Cassiera fiddled with
her tunic. Underneath she had on a simple white shirt with extremely light
blue stripes. Not that Zura had noticed. It took him a moment to realize
that she was done fiddling and was staring at him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Well, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
”You could say that.”
“I was just wondering, well, you’re a mercenary, sword for hire, fight for
pay-“
“I know what I am.” He said dryly.
“I mean, what about your future? When you can’t fight anymore? What about a
family?”
“Why do you want to know so much?”
”I don’t know, I guess its because I’ve spent so much time around proper
knights, and they have the kind of lives everyone has and-“
“Now you meet an improper knight and you think it make an interesting
conversation how different his life is from normal?”
Cassiera drew back slightly and Zura realized the anger in his voice. He
didn’t realize himself that it was a sore subject, but it couldn’t be
avoided.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get like that. I don’t mind your questions,
really, go ahead and ask me anything. It helps pass the time a lot better
then this boring card game I play all the time.”
So the conversation started, him answering questions about himself and his
profession, which begat more questions. He got the feeling that she not only
had never met anything but a prim and proper shining knight, but had never
even seen one that wasn’t. The mercenary’s mouth occasionally got dry and he
drank wine to cure himself. It reminded him that it had been a long time
since he had ever talked to someone this long. When Cassiera stifled a yawn
he seized the opportunity to stop.
“Alright, it well past the time you should have gone to sleep.”
“No, I’m fine really.”
“I believe you. But we need to keep the routine regular, so one of us
doesn’t fall asleep. You can ask more questions tomorrow okay?”
”Well, fine then. Good night Zura.” She said with a smile.
He waited until her breathing was slow and regular before he dared look at
her face. He had been staring at it all night, but now she looked calm,
serene, angelic. He turned away, mentally cursing himself. A Hume? His
charge nonetheless, a rich, ignorant of the world girl that would probably
go on to become the wife of a banker or something. In three more days, she
would be a memory.
----------------------
The next day passed without incident. At dinner and breakfast Zura ordered
the most outlandish things he could think of, but the kitchen seemed to
enjoy defeating him at every turn.
“Do you think that we might be able to go up on deck sometime?” Cassiera
asked over dinner.
“Well…I think…we should wait….until…that last day.” Zura said in between
bites of Windurstian potato gumbo.
“I thought -“
Suddenly there was a tremor in the floor, spilling a cup off the table onto
the floor.
“Was that normal?” Zura asked.
Cassiera shook her head no and there came another tremor. A cry of alarm
came from far off.
“Damn, grab your tunic.” Zura ordered, dropping his food and springing out
of the char. Cassiera barely had time to retrieve and slip on the tunic
before Zura had secured all his gear and waited anxiously by the door. He
nabbed a leg of meat and without a word he slipped out into the corridor.
Up on the deck there was nothing but pandemonium. He could smell smoke in
the air, and looked up to the rotating fans and saw his worst fear: the
engines were on fire. The ship would be fine even if the main engine had
blown, but it had exploded and caught the others ablaze. It would not take
long for the rest to go. Passengers and crew were running about, screaming
and bumping into each other, a herd of confused and scared animals.
“C’mon, we have to get as high as we can. If this thing goes down its our
only hope.”
They moved up onto the by the stairs next to the first class entrance. Above
crewmen were running around like madmen, yelling and rushing from place to
place. Zura headed for the nearest door, luckily it was a storage closet,
full of brooms and other cleaning supplies. Hastily he snatched them from
the small space and flung them out, pushing Cassiera in and jumping inside
himself.
It was pitch black in the space. The two were squished together, knees
bracing each other. Zura munched on the meat stick consolingly, trying to
ignore the chaos outside. Cassiera whimpered and in the darkness, without
thinking, his hand went forward and sought hers. The terrified Hume clutched
his hand like a child. He wanted to move to her and kiss her, this possibly
being his last night in this world. The notion didn’t seem like a bad idea
until the cold, rational part of him examined it. What if she didn't want
him even near her? Sure, she was holding his hand, only because she was
scared out of her wits. Don't fool yourself.
The airship dipped into the tree line of the forest below. The first few
trees struck the bottom with little effect, but soon the ship lost enough
altitude and whole heartedly crashed into the green. The sound of wood and
metal being smashed to pieces exploded across the quiet woods, the airship
landing in a cacophony of death and fire.
-----------------------------
He woke. The smell of smoke was oppressing. Light crept in from under the
door but it was nighttime.
Zura's head was bleeding. Something must have gotten loose and stuck him.
His ribcage ached, making his breathing painful but it wasn't serious. And
his hat was missing.
He reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The scene that greeted
him was from a nightmare. The bottom section of the ship was flattened all
the way up to where they sat, making him almost level with the ground. He
didn't even want to think about the people that were still below decks.
There were enough bodies scattered around the ground and remains of the ship
to make him feel sick.
Cassiera was crumpled in the corner of the closet. His hat was under his own
leg, he noticed. The mercenary put it on his head and forced himself to his
feet. Despite his protesting joints and lungs, he hefted the unconscious
girl onto his shoulder and made his way past the wreck. Nothing moved,
besides the hungry flames that devoured everything. Zura coughed on the
smoke, finally breaking free of the screen and moving out into the dark
woods.
Later he could not recall to save his life how long he stumbled into the
woods. Long enough to escape the choking smoke the bright lights of the
veritable funeral pyre he escaped. When his muscles screamed at every step,
he began to search. It was difficult in the dim light, but he found a tree
with low and strong enough branches. He started to ascend, the extra weight
of his equipment and the body feeling like a thousand stone. Every part of
his body burned, but Zura refused to quit. It felt like an eternity, but he
made it the fifteen feet up to a row of thick branches, nearly horizontal,
that would easily hold the two of them. He slung her limp body on the
makeshift bed.
He didn’t even remember hitting the branches.
----------------------------
Sunlight filtered down through the leaves in rays of gold, the spotted
pattern it made on the ground below moved back and forth in the gentle
breeze. It was a scene from a beautiful dream and it did nothing to convey
the very real danger that was all around.
Every muscle he had, it seemed, was sore and stiff from the awkward sleep on
the bark hammock. Zura rolled to his back, sitting up. His charge was
leaning against the trunk, legs drawn up, resting her face on her knees. She
was watching him strangely, and he noticed her eyes were red and puffy. She
had been doing some crying.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes…I didn’t know if I should have woken you.”
“Better not. I’m not very good at rising early and I hear I say things I
don‘t mean.”
“I don’t remember very much of what happened…do you mind filling it all in?”
“Well, the engines on the airship blew up and we crashed into the woods.
There’s also some bad news. We’re in Davoi, the Orcish stronghold.”
“What? How do you know?”
“I’ve passed through the Jugner Forest enough times to recognize the small
mountain range that marks the end of their territory. That and I saw an Orc
charm nailed to a tree last night. I think”
“Will we make it?”
“I was coming to the good news. The good news is that we are alive and
probably the only ones who survived the crash to also escape it.”
“Other survivors?”
Zura nodded sadly. “More then likely other people were still alive. Poor
bastards.”
“We have to go!” said Cassiera, unexpectedly forcefully, “We can help them!
“We have to help them before…”
“Before the Orcs swarm the place. Look Cassie, you have to accept the fact
that you are alive and they are not. If that ship was loaded with soldiers
and every single one survived they couldn’t fight off the Orcs that have got
to be crawling all over the place. Don’t blame yourself, it isn’t a matter
of blame. Mourn them if you must, think of them and cry for them but never
for a moment wish to be with them.”
She began weeping again, sobbing into her legs. Zura wasn’t quite sure what
to do. He tried to think of their next move, plan out the journey, but his
mind was sluggish from sleep and he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the
sounds of Cassiera’s grief. He slid his way to her and uncertainly put his
hand on her knee. Immediately she latched onto his arm and cried into his
shoulder, salty tears working through the joints in his soft armor and
touching his skin with moisture. She didn’t stop for a long time.
When she was done Zura rummaged through his pack and pulled a spare shirt
free, handing it to her. Cassiera wiped her face free of the tears and dirt
that had accumulated on her face.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked after a moment.
“Wait for nightfall. There might be scouts still around and it’ll be days
before the Orcs are done rummaging through the wreckage. We run for the
mountain range and pray we go unnoticed. “
“After that?”
“There’s a friendly outpost in Jugner. Keeps watch on Davoi. We can stay
there a few days and re-supply.”
“Re-supply?”
“Yeah, I keep a stock of food that takes years to finally go bad, dried
lizard meat and plant roots from the Ronfaure area.”
“What are our chances?”
“I’ll tell you if we reach the outpost.”
Zura went back to sleep for a few more hours. At dusk they readied and left
as the sun dipped below the horizon. They moved at a light jog, making good
time for the small mountains in the distance. Although he was loaded down
with his pack and gear, they were as much a part of him as his any body part
and he didn’t even know they were there sometimes. When they did stop it was
for Cassiera to catch her breath. Zura would have stopped too, but not as
frequently, taking the opportunity to seem unfazed by the long run.
Eventually they reached the mountains, without trouble. There they ate a dry
breakfast at the beginning slopes of the mountain.
“Don’t suppose you have any water? I can’t eat this stuff when I’m this
thirsty.”
Zura dutifully reached for his pack and produced a large canteen. Cassiera
took it from him and greedily sucked the sweet and surprisingly cold fluid
from the can.
“Wow, that’s good stuff.”
“Special distilled water, the canteen cost me too much but it keeps the
water cold longer then anything I’ve had before.”
“It was worth it.”
“Maybe. Ready to go?”
They trekked across the mountains and made good time. It was nearing dawn
when the ground leveled and the thick trees of Jugner came into view. There
was still a number of fair sized hills but the worst inclines were over and
soon they would be deep in the forest. Cassiera spotted a suitable tree for
them to sleep in. They came within fifteen feet of it when Zura froze in his
tracks. Cassiera looked at him quizzically and followed his line of sight to
the tree.
The branches of the tree shook slightly, a ripple going through it, but
there was no wind. Suddenly she saw the great eyelids open, revealing dull
looking eyes, looking forward. Her breathing stopped and Cassiera wished
nothing more for those lids to close. After a tense minute the lazy eyes
shut again, as the two slowly backed away. After Zura deemed it sufficient
he took off running, Cassiera close behind. After a hundred feet passed
between them and the tree before they dared to stop and talk.
“The tree blinked. Why would it do that? It’s a tree. A tree. Why would a
tree need to blink?”
“I guess the stories about living trees weren’t just the ramblings of a
drunken merchant.” Zura said, more to himself.
“You knew about them?”
“Well, er,” he began, Cassiera glaring at him accusingly. “Hey, wait now, I
didn’t see it until you did, and besides, would you have believed me?”
“I might have!”
“Doubt it, Cassie. Anyway, let’s look for one that isn’t moving this time.”
The next day the small party was in high spirits. The sun occasionally
shined through the cloudy sky, still managing to warm the earth enough for
it to be a slightly cool day. They laughed and talked walking along the
river, Zura whistling pleasantly to himself. Mid-sentence he stopped talking
and walking and cocked his head to the side.
“Hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Sounds like…”
Cassiera didn’t even see his arm move but a moment later his sword was in
his hand. Zura slid his pack off his shoulder and charged headlong into the
trees. He weaved in between think foliage, getting nearer to the screams. A
moment later the all too familiar smell of burning flesh his keen nostrils.
The trees broke into a large clearing, where an Orc scout unit had set up
camp. There was a large roasting fire going in the center of the camp, but
there was no meat on the spit. All around the camp blackened Orc bodies were
scattered. A small distance from the camp more bodies were scattered, some
of them still burning. Nothing seemed to be moving besides the tendrils of
gray smoke that rose from the corpses and made the air foul with its stench.
Somewhat in the center of the many bodies was one that belonged to no Orc.
Zura sheathed his blade and knelt down to the Hume body sprawled out on the
grass. He was in the latest Bastok fashion and was quite well dressed in a
red and green trimmed robe. The young man had suffered wounds to his head
and torso, most likely made by the two Orcs near him, both of which were
freshly dead and giving off the most smoke. There was a fine wand in the
Hume’s hand, which Zura inspected. It was a wand used for the amplification
of magic power, most commonly used by black mages. The mercenary reached
down to the neck and as he expected found no pulse.
“Is he dead?” Cassiera asked from behind him.
“Yes. But there is time.” He said, rising, not turning to face her.
“White magic. It is the Order’s specialty. Did you learn any?”
“N-no, I didn’t have the potential for it, they said. But…he’s gone, what
good would it do now?”
“He’s not all gone,” Zura said, kneeling back down and scooping the body up
in his arms. “The spirit of life lingers. He has just begun his passing to
the other side.” Finally he turned to face her, the still body in his arms.
“We need a safe place. A cave or some kind of shelter.”
“I saw one on the way over…”
“Let’s go. No time to waste. Grab his wand.”
It was fortunate they were still close to the mountains. The small cave was
a bit cramped, but would keep them hidden from anything passing by. Zura
laid the body gently onto the floor of the cave. He removed his hat,
something Cassiera had never seen him do so far. He sat on his knees next to
the body and clasped his hands in front of him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, but Zura wasn’t listening. He breathed
deep, a few long breaths, and began whispering the incantation. He would not
forget a single word, it had been driven into his mind as surely as his own
name by the ruthless and highly effective Taru master wizards he’d studied
under. Slowly he felt the power creeping into him, and he gathered in it his
right hand. After a moment the hand began to glow, then it shined, then it
blazed so bright Zura had to squint. His voice rose to a normal tone,
gaining in speed. Cassiera heard him clearly but the words were a thick,
ancient language and it sounded like gibberish to her.
Suddenly his hand shot forward and grasped the body by the chest The light
imploded into the body, and Zura was connected to it. Darkness flowed from
his hand up his arm and felt like a thousand needle stabbing at high speed
into every pore. The mercenary snarled at it, fought it, attacked it until
it felt his pain. His voice rose to a shout and the words flew so fast from
his lips he couldn’t understand them himself. The longer he held the farther
the darkness spread, lancing into his chest, head and legs. Zura’s body
began to tremble involuntarily, and his voice rose to a fevered pitch,
screaming so loud he wasn’t aware of anything but the agony and his own
voice.
The Hume’s chest moved, sucking in air as if he had been underwater a long
time. The hard part was over. Zura sensed the body completely now that it
pulsed with life, the two main injuries to the head and chest throbbing like
his own heart He felt many other cuts and bruises, all of them he could feel
as if they were his own, but he ignored them, concentrating on the two.
Organs mended, flesh grew back, the fracture in the Hume’s skull sealed
whole again.
The mercenary released his grip on the chest, arm falling limply to the
side. He stared dully at the Hume’s face, waiting, holding onto conscious as
the pain fled from his body. The Hume’s chest was moving, up, down, and then
his eyes opened slowly. Zura once again fell unconscious from an ordeal of
great pain and exhaustion.
----------------------------------
The smell of meat woke him. The Elvaan stirred, opening his eyes to
Cassiera’s face, hovered over his own. She smiled in relief, and Zura felt
it would be alright if he left this world right then and now.
He sat up, too fast, his head filled with a dull ache. Zura ignored it and
found the source of that smell, a large chunk of meat cooling by a well
crafted camping spit. Voraciously he tore into it, disregarding any
semblance of manners, picking the bone clean after he was done.
“I would think you’re hungry. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half.”
Cassiera said cheerfully.
“Guess so. Nice fire. Did you make it?”
“I did.” Said a voice quietly from the other side of the cave. Zura hadn’t
even noticed him. The young Hume was sitting cross legged against the cave
wall, staring intently at the Elvaan.
“I see. What is your name friend?”
“Cherron.”
“Nice to meet you Cherron. I’m Zura, and I’m sure you’ve met Cassie
already.”
“I would do anything to repay my debt to you Mr. Lightbane.” Cherron said
timidly.
“Oh, please, none of that Mr stuff, its just Zura. And all you have to do
for me is tell me what happened.”
“Well, I was traveling through Jugner,” Cherron began.
“Alone?” Zura cut in.
“Yes…I run magic scrolls, you see. The business is mine, so I don’t really
have the money to hire a guard. I was heading for Bastok, that’s why I was
so far south…they came from behind. When I woke up, they were grunting and
making preparations to throw me on the fire. I was so mad…I wanted to burn
the whole forest down. I study the scrolls as well, you see…but I failed.
And I died.”
“You’re alive now.”
“I was serious. If you need anything at all, say the words and it will be
done.” Cherron said, this time without a hint of shyness.
“I know, my friend, I know. Can you walk?”
“Yes…she gathered firewood and I found a boar for dinner a few hours ago.”
“Good. Some people are incapacitated for a day or more after they’ve been
raised. We’re headed for the outpost in Jugner for supplies, think you can
make it?”
“Yeah, they know me pretty well there. I can stay for a couple of days
before moving on to Bastok.”
“It’s a shame we’re going the other way.” Blurted out Cassiera.
“Indeed. Otherwise I’d insist on accompanying you.”
“I had no idea you were a white mage, Zura.” Said Cassiera.
“Red, actually. It was a lot harder, but I think it paid off. Right now
though we need to worry about getting to that outpost.”
“I can make it on my own feet.” Said Cherron.
“It’s set then. We’ll part ways at the outpost, no sooner.”
It was not hard to find. The numerous paths that snaked through Jugner had
signposts pointing them in the right direction. Although Zura’s first
instinct was to report the crash to the guards at the outpost, he decided
against it. They would want his name and would compromise their secrecy.
Better whoever is after them think that they are dead and deliver Cassiera,
then report the crash.
A few days of rest and sleeping in an actual bed did tremendous good for all
three. The time came, however, for two to leave. It was with heavy hearts
they said goodbye at the gate.
“How long will you be here?” Zura asked.
“Maybe another three days or so. Why Z?” Cherron and eventually Cassiera had
taken to calling him Z now. He didn’t know exactly when it first started but
he kind of enjoyed being close to people after long solitude and perfunctory
friends.
“Too bad. I’ve been meaning to visit Bastok. It would have been nice to have
familiar company.”
“I make runs to San d’Oria often. Where can I find you?”
”Ask at the Lion Springs Tavern, they know me there.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye Cherron,” Cassiera said wistfully. “We’ll miss you.”
“Don’t be a stranger, my friend. Come see me in San d’Oria sometime.”
“All three of us can do something fun instead of watching our backs!”
Cherron said cheerfully. He didn’t count on the silence and eyes that would
not meet his.
“Well, goodbye then.” Said Zura, too quickly. He offered his hand and the
two men shook, and the pair turned and went back onto the open road.
The following days on the move passed far too quickly for Zura. He had given
up ever denying his feelings for Cassiera. When Jueno is in sight, he
promised himself, I will tell her how I feel. They passed out of the forest
and walked past the Battallia ruins, Zura acting as a tour guide and
reciting as many facts about the war as he could remember, which were a lot.
Sometime one would look for too long at the other’s face and turn away
shamefully. It was enough to awaken long dormant emotion in the normally
cold -hearted mercenary.
Nearing the end of their journey on a gray-skied day, they came across a man
camping next to the road. He had a small fire going, a small tent and a
chocobo tied twice to a nearby tree. That alone vexed Zura, but as he got
closer his annoyance turned to anxiety.
The man was dressed in black armor that covered him from head to toe. He was
Elvaan, a few years older then Zura, white a mane of white hair that
cascaded down his shining black armor. He rose when they approached,
standing patiently as they walked closer to him. Zura could see his face
now, grizzled with unshaven beard stubble, scars and time. He appeared
civil, but there was something sinister about the man, and Zura was ready to
pull his sword.
“Ho there fellow travelers! Won’t you share a meal with your countryman?” he
said genially.
“No thanks, friend. We’ve eaten already.”
“But I insist. Come, sit with me.”
“I said no, we’ll be going now.”
“No…I don’t think you will.” The man said, laughing. He stooped down and
retrieved a wicked looking scythe hidden in the grass below.
Zura pushed Cassiera behind him and slowly drew his sword. “Stand aside, or
be cut.”
“And who might you be?” the dark knight asked casually.
“Zura Lightbane”
“Lightbane, eh? Never heard of you. But its been a while since I’ve been
home.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is unimportant but some like to call me the Nightcrawler.”
That name triggered something in Zura’s mind and he thought furiously. A
light rain began, making a tink sound as it struck the black armor. Then he
remembered.
“The fallen Temple Knight…you killed seven of your fellow knights escaping
you traitorous bastard.”
Nightcrawler bowed. “The same. You know someone in the Château, don’t you?
Most of the time the rumors say I killed twenty, but apparently you’ve read
the official report.”
“You will answer for their deaths today, cretin. En garde!”
“Oh dear. You want get all violent. Well that’s just fine with me, but I
think you ought to know that there’s a gun pointed at your heart fight now.”
A trap! He’d walked right into it. There was nothing he could do. A little
piece of him hoped it was a bluff, but he doubted it.
“I must say, I had thought that confounded airship might have done my job
for me, but no, they wanted proof Princess Anneala was dead.” Nightcrawler
removed a pearl from his ear and dropped it to the ground. “Useful little
things aren’t they?”
“Princess?” said Zura turning to face Cassiera.
“I’m sorry Z. I couldn’t tell you. My name is Anneala, I’m Bastok royalty. I
didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
“The Taru -”
“A friend of the family. Known him since I was six.”
“It’s…”
“I hate to spoil this moment of drama, but I really must be going. See,
you’re worth more to my employers alive princess. You, hat man, I just might
let you live if you go now. C’mon princess I don’t have all day.”
“Like hell!” Zura snarled, bringing his weapon up.
“Well, can’t say I didn’t try.” Said the Nightcrawler, and he made a motion
with his hand. From almost directly behind them, somewhere in the ruins, a
gun roared and barked fire. A blue-white convex sheet of light appeared for
half a second before being shattered by the bullet meant for the red mage’s
heart.
Zura turned and charged the ruins, quickly enacting a vicious spell against
the hidden ranger. The man cried out in pain when he was done a moment
later, and Zura rounded the ruin to find the ranger crouched on the ground,
reloading a rather large gun. Skin burning from the poisonous attack, the
man drew a short sword as Zura attacked immediately. The ranger parried
perfectly, but he did not expect the jolt of electricity that shot into his
sword. For a half a second he stopped, more in surprise then anything,
leaving just enough time for Zura’s blade to pierce his chest. The wounded
man cried out again, as Zura kicked the sword from his opponent’s hand and
ran him through completely.
Zura did not have time for pity as he put his foot on the dying man’s
shoulder and freed his blade from the body. He was aware that Nightcrawler
was casting a spell but there was nothing he could do yet.
The fire spell enacted a moment later, exploding all around the red mage as
he darted around the ruins. The mercenary fell to the ground, shrieking in
mock pain as Nightcrawler chuckled and slipped on his helmet. He strode
lazily to where Zura rolled back and forth on the ground.
Still chuckling, Nightcrawler stood over his enemy and said, “You know I
think -” was all he got out and saved himself a kneecap by jumped back. As
it was Zura’s sword stabbed lightly into the knee, sliding into the gaps of
the knee joints, numbing Nightcrawler’s leg for a moment from the shock.
The red mage was up in a heartbeat and attacking, working his blade in a
blur of cuts and thrusts. Dark knights were not well known for their
defensive capabilities, but this one parried the attacks masterfully with
the shaft of his scythe. It was fortunate it was made from wood and not
metal and saved Nightcrawler from the lightning imbued sword. Zura faked a
thrust and swept to the right, trying to catch a hand. Nightcrawler simply
dropped that end of the scythe and sent the business end of it towards his
opponent.
Zura brought up his shield, which sparked as it turned aside the deadly
scythe. The red mage shifted right shot his blade out, tip piercing
Nightcrawler’s left elbow, cackling with energy as it did. The dark knight
roared and swung the scythe, too close to hit with the tip but the shafted
struck Zura in the ribs and knocked him to the ground. He barely had time to
get his shield up as the next blow came.
The red mage escaped death but not pain as the scythe cut into his arm and
pierced his shoulder. Zura cried out and the Nightcrawler brought it up and
down in a flash, but this time hit only dirt. Zura had rolled to side and
now his left hand closed around shaft, pinning it to the ground although his
shoulder burned with agony. The sword came around and connected squarely
with Nightcrawler’s right hand that was still holding the scythe, crunching
through the gauntlet and through the hand.
He bellowed and fell upon Zura, releasing the scythe, pinning his opponent’s
sword arm down with his left hand and using his knee to stop the other as
the dark knight rained blows upon the red mage’s unprotected head with his
freshly pierced hand. He struck once, twice, again and again.
Anneala barreled into Nightcrawler, knocking him off Zura. She swung
clumsily with the ranger’s sword at the dark knight’s back, but it clanged
ineffectively against the thick plate as Nightcrawler picked himself up.
Dazedly, the assassin stopped her next swing before it started, ripping the
sword from her hand and backhanding her from his kneeling position. Anneala
was spun around by the force and she fell, face stained with both of the
Elvaan’s blood. The dark knight staggered to his feet and got a proper grip
on the sword.
Zura was there, knocking the weapon clean out of Nightcrawler’s hand, and
cruelly ramming it deep into the gap between back plate and breast plate.
The mortally wounded man sputtered, faltered for a moment then one hand
closed around the wrist that Zura held the sword with and his bloody right
latching onto the red mage’s throat. Zura choked, but stuck out with his
shield, smashing into the Nightcrawler’s helmeted jaw. The dark knight’s
grip only tightened and Zura stuck again, and again. Finally his opponent’s
stance buckled, the combatants falling to their knees together.
Nightcrawler’s arms fell limply to the sides, blood streaming from his
helmet. The red mage pulled out his sword, wiping it on the grass and
sheathing it.
“And so you die,” he said tiredly, face and mouth bleeding.
“So will you, hat man.” Nightcrawler said, and slumped to the ground, never
to rise again.
Zura groggily inspected his arm. Already the skin around the gash was
beginning to blacken. He felt light headed, too light headed for such a
fight.
“Z…oh…are you alright?”
“I’ve been…poisoned, Cassie.” He announced with finality.
“What? Oh no! We need to get you to a healer!”
“Works fast, I feel light…”
“Stay awake Z, c’mon let’s get to the chocobo. Move dammit!”
--------------------------------------
“Please be okay…”
The two had been riding hard for nearly an hour, the tired bird going as
fast as Anneala could make it go. Zura had clung to her waist after they got
on, but his strength was fading and now he leaned heavily against her. They
crested the next hill and in the distance she could see the grand bridges
and walls of Jueno, a sight for desperate eyes.
“Z! We made it! Z!”
The Elvaan slumped over to the left, fall off the chocobo onto the fast
moving ground. Anneala pulled to a stop and jumped from the saddle, running
to the crumpled form in the mud. She rolled the sprawled Zura onto his back.
His normally alert eyes were clouded and misty, his breathing ragged and
rough.
“No…c’mon Z, hold on, get back on the -“
“I’m dying Cassie…or whatever your real name is…” he croaked. “It will be
too late to revive me even if we got there now…”
She began to cry, horribly, unlike she ever had before. Zura reached up to
her face, his calloused hand clutching weakly.
“Don’t cry, my love…I don’t wish my last sight of this world to be you
weeping for me…”
“Don’t go, don’t….”
“Remember what I told you…do not die along with me…live on…be happy again…as
our short time has made me…”
“I don’t want to!” she sobbed, “I don’t want to go on alone….”
“You must…before I go…all I want is your kiss…”
Anneala got close and kissed him furiously, passionately, as if it would
somehow undo the damage done to his broken body. She tasted his blood, his
sweat and her own salty tears.
“Thank you…” he whispered, “my sword…where is my sword…”
She pulled the sword free from his hip and put it in his hand. “Ah...my old
friend…I wish to be buried with him…my pendant…its for you.” His voice was
growing weaker by the word.
Anneala dug into his shirt and found a pendant she had never seen him
wearing before. It was San d’Orian, and very familiar…
“Oh…oh wow…you’re a Royal Kight…”
“Honorary…long story…listen gorgeous I gotta go…how bout a smile?”
Despite herself, despite everything she smiled. The dying Elvaan managed a
small grin. “Thanks…hold onto my hat…this isn’t so bad, the rain and your
smile…I love…” His eyelids drooped down and closed. Anneala cried until she
had no more tears and wailed until her voice gave out.
-------------------------
Many attended the funeral. Mostly Elvaan, but every race was represented. It
seems there was a great deal more to his life Zura ever let on. Anneala
recognized only Cherron, standing by the soon to be lit funeral pyre. She
went to stand by him, looking out from under the large round hat she had
taken to wearing, much like the pendant around her neck. Cherron did not say
anything but nodded, looking back at the corpse of one time savior.
There was a San d’Orian prince giving the eulogy. He spoke at length about
the fallen hero’s many contributions, not only to his country but to anyone
who he came across, how he died for others. Anneala knew the truth about
Zura. He lived for others.
“I came as soon as I heard.” Said Cherron quietly. “I should have been
there…should have helped…that should be me up there.”
“No, Cherron. Cry for him, mourn his passing but never wish to be like
him…thinking how it might have been different. Accept reality and live on.”
she said, surprised how cold her voice sounded.
“You’ve changed.”
“Yes…”
“I must return to Bastok, I will be leaving now. I don’t want to see this.
My condolences, your highness.” He said, kneeling to the ground. Was she
supposed to return to that life, of endless lines of people bowing before
her? To be married off to a stranger simply because of his bloodline? Could
she go back to that after all of this?
“Wait! Cherron wait!” she said, jogging after the mage.
He turned around to face her, bewildered. “I want to go with you.” She said.
Now he was really confused. “You what!?”
“Take me with you. I don’t want this life anymore. I want to be free.”
“But…your family…”
“Looks at me as an asset. There is no lost love between us, trust me. That
doesn’t matter. Can I go or not?”
“Well, yes your highness, it would be an honor.”
“Call me Cassie,” she said with a smile.
Cherron broke his gloom reluctantly and smiled as well, nodding.
As they passed through the streets of San d’Oria, she put her head on
Cherron’s shoulder. Slowly the mage put his arm around her waist, and they
headed out onto the open road together.
The End
|
Fan Fiction