"They knew we were coming," Corvin said flatly as the higher ranking members of the army arranged themselves around a campfire. It was nearly dawn, now. The sun’s light could be seen on the horizon, brightening the eastern sky infinitesimally. The night was not particularly cold, but still, Corvin shivered. And not from the temperature; from his own words.
There were ten of them, around the fire. Corvin himself, of course. His father. Cecil and Kain, the latter with a pearl-white spear slung across his back in addition to the Paladin’s sword at his side, the former with his son standing just behind him. Velerin, Kain’s second in command, sat straight across the fire from Corvin; he hadn’t yet even removed his red-tinted battle armor. To Velerin’s right sat Porom, rather closer than what was necessary, even with everyone trying to squeeze close to the fire. It occurred to Corvin that he’d seen the two of them together a lot lately; if he hadn’t known better, and in fact he didn't, he would have said they knew each other in a closer manner.
To Porom’s right was Palom, his black robes tattered and scorched; from his own fire just as much as from enemy magic and blades. Cid was next around the circle, and Edward last, just to Corvin’s left. The plain short sword at the prince’s side looked hideously out of place. Rydia and Rosa were conspicuously missing; they were busy seeing to the wounded.
Caitlin was nowhere to be found, again. Small consolation that Vashin was gone, as well. Even smaller that no one had found either body.
Corvin had a desperate urge to smash something. But there was nothing left to smash; every inch of grass, every bit of greenery, every natural object in the valley was either burned bare by pure fire, or matted down with blood.
There was silence, for a moment, after he made his iron declaration. Silence, because they knew what it meant, what it had to mean. A traitor in the ranks. Whether willing, or coerced by dark magic, it didn’t really matter. And with Vashin gone, went their only possibility of releasing anyone from whatever curse this was.
None asked him whether he was sure. Most had heard explanations already, either from Corvin, or his father, or another Eblani.
"It has to end," Velerin said, to break the silence. Corvin had remembered thinking the Dragoon young, when he first met him; that had been about four weeks ago, yet now, the man who’s face peered out from behind that helmet appeared old beyond his years.
Corvin himself had enjoyed the fighting, enjoyed the risk, experienced a roar of adrenaline as he made his way through the battle. But then, he hadn’t been fighting his own countrymen. How much worse must that be?
"It has to end," Velerin said again. "We don’t have any more choice. We have to destroy them, all of them. There is no other way."
More silence. They all knew he was right, but no one liked to admit it. It was as if, so long as they said nothing, they could deny the truth.
"Porom," Kain said.
"Yes?"
"Your beacon. Where is it now?"
"Here. It was on one of these ships. In a while, I’ll remove it; it won’t help us find the remnants."
Cid whispered commands over his shoulder, to an engineer who had been standing by. Orders to prepare to withdraw, Corvin thought; it was almost unnoticeable, but he thought the bustle in the camp suddenly grew just a little bit louder. Just a little.
"What do we do?" Edward asked.
"Go home, I suppose," Cecil answered. "Somehow, I don’t think we’ll need to worry about finding them. They’ll find us."
"This is not right," a feminine voice penetrated the dawn half-light. A feminine voice, but the speaker certainly was not a woman. Almost a woman, but not quite.
"Does it matter?" This voice was male. "I do what I have to."
"It isn’t right," the first voice insisted. "They’re your friends."
"Too late to turn back now. You know that."
"You should never have told me about this. I would have been much happier, not knowing. Now what do I do?"
"The same thing I do, I suppose. Scream in the darkness of your own mind."
"That’s not very comforting."
"It wasn’t intended to be."
"What about that girl?"
"Hardly a girl. A woman"
"You know what I mean."
"Of course I know what you mean. Okay. What about her?"
"Why?" was all she said. But he understood.
"Because I had to."
"Or because you felt like it," the female voice sounded bitter, bitter.
"Do you think I like any of this?"
"Yes."
"Well, you’re wrong," the male voice snapped.
"Am I? Am I really?"
"You’ve grown a lot more backbone, these last few days."
"You forced me to it."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did. I’m trapped between two sets of morals; I either strengthen myself, or I go insane."
"Doubt it. You have too steady a mind for that."
"Perhaps."
The two of them peered down over the parapet of Baron Castle, each thinking their own thoughts.
"What is it like?" the woman’s voice asked suddenly. "being able to bend minds to your will?"
"I don’t do that. None of this is anything they wouldn’t have done anyway, if given the free choice without honor to hold them back."
"Choco shit. But then, it would seem honor means nothing to you."
The male figure tried to hide it, but he winced. "What would you know? You can at least ease your own conscience; you never chose any of this. I chose for you."
"And I chose to do nothing about it."
"True. But then, you couldn’t do anything about it. I’m not going to be able to release you until after this is over, you know," the male voice said sadly. "I’m sorry."
"Liar."
"Sometimes, yes. But not in this."
"Liar."
There was a sigh. "Damn life, I wish you could bring yourself to believe me...."
"Liar."
There was silence, for a short time.
"I could break free, you know." This time, there was an edge of defiance to the voice. "I gave you my power, I can take it back."
"Not until I choose to release you. And I can’t do that."
"What makes you think I can’t take it, whether you choose to release me or not?"
"It’s never happened before."
"There’s never been a situation like this one, before."
"I don't think so. Everything has happened before. Everything possible, at any rate."
"I won’t argue the point. This isn’t a philosophy debate."
"Isn’t it?"
"No."
"What is it, then?"
"I don’t know. You’re the one who brought me up here. To talk, you said. But there’s really only one thing to talk about, and you knew I would try to talk you down, if I could."
Silence, again.
"That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?" she said softly. "Something to turn you away, someone to change your path. But I can’t help you. No one can help you but yourself."
The male figure made an effort at a grin, but it was clear from his face that he had been struck to the bone. He tried to hide it, though. "I see," he said. "And you can read minds, now?"
"No. But I can read faces. Your face in particular. After all, we’ve known each other for what? Ten years? And been bonded for five of them. I wish I’d never seen your face."
"That’s one sentiment we share. I wish I’d never seen my own face. I wish I’d never had a face to be seen. I wish I’d never been born."
"You’re twenty-one years too late to wish for that. But you could always fall on your sword."
"That would help. But I don’t think so."
"You’re going to carry this through to the end, aren’t you?"
"Of course. I have to."
"No...you don’t."
"What would you suggest I do?"
Silence on her part, this time.
"Well?" he asked again. He sighed. "Do you think I like this? I don’t. My own fault, I suppose. I began this without knowing what it entailed. Do you have any idea what it’s like? Looking down on a battlefield, seeing dead numbering in the thousands, and knowing that none of it would have happened, if not for you?"
There was a surge of magic, a familiar surge, as she struggled to break free of the bond. A futile effort, of course. But he had never really believed she would want to join him, want to remain with him, once she learned of his dark purpose. The price you paid for power.
The magic faded again, and there was silence once more as they walked slowly along the battlements.
"They’ll be here soon, you know," she said at last. "You could always let them in. You could leave this path. You don’t have to continue with this."
"No. I’ll finish what I’ve begun."
"Then I hope you rot in hell."
"Oh, I’ve no doubt of that."
"Nor do I."
"Thanks." Sarcasm.
"Where’s the dragon?"
"Elsewhere."
"What’s his part in all this?"
The man shrugged. "He’s just a friend. He and I aren’t really bonded, you know...not the way you and I are. One of us will outlive the other."
"How on earth did you manage that?"
"With difficulty. Difficulty and a lot of pain. Fortunate that we did manage it, though. I expect Bahamut will incinerate him."
"Strange that you have such a casual attitude regarding the death of a friend."
"Not really, if you think of it. Even if we win, I deserve death. Does he deserve it any less, for willingly following me?"
"Good point."
"Thanks." He looked up at the moon. "Time to turn in, I think. They’ll probably leave the battlefield with the dawn, and I’d like to wake up before they get here. Good night."
"Just night, I’d say. It’s hardly a good one."
Flying silent, was what Cid had called it. An apt name, and Corvin was glad of it, glad that he no longer had to cover his ears to block out the noise of the engines. Wind passed through his hair, blowing it out behind him. He stood at the ship’s prow, looking out over the rail. Far below, thousands of feet, woods and grasslands passed by. It was a calming sight. And he certainly needed calming. He was excited, too much so. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling. A premonition of danger. His heart beat faster than it ought.
People were silent, today. No words were spoken but hushed orders. The effect of war, Corvin thought. War with one’s own. At least, it was like that on this ship, the Lunaria. Funny name, he reflected. As for the lack of noise...he could only presume that it was the same on the other ships.
Palom and Porom were somewhere below, sleeping. They had had to lean on each other, just to walk across the deck. It had been a strange sight; Corvin could never be really sure, watching them, if at any given moment they would be fighting each other, or together. The sight of each so obviously relying on the other for needed support was almost...unnatural.
At any rate, they were below, which was too bad. Palom at least seemed to retain an amusing manner, no matter what the situation. Maybe not Porom, but still. He had one arm around Ophelia, who wore a thick violet cloak to guard against the wind. She was as silent as everyone else, though. Maybe more so. She could have warmed both of them with magic, but had chosen not to. Hadn’t worked any magic since yesterday’s battle, as far as he could tell.
There were just over twenty ships in their fleet. Five of those were of the new, smaller variety. Painted black, they moved lurchingly, and were horribly unstable. Equipped with a single large rotor and several smaller stabilizing rotors, they were incredibly fast, and much, much more maneuverable than the standard, six-rotor ships. Even more so when compared to the massive twelve-rotor behemoth that they launched from. The tiny vessels had a crew of four; two to pilot, one to man the lookout, and one to man the single cannon that was housed in the forward belowdeck compartment. Corvin wondered how those men could do it. He had flown up in one of the smaller ships, called Stingrays, exactly once, and it had been the most frightening experience he’d ever had. Corvin had a good head for heights, but not when the height was a thousand feet and it seemed that the ship would pitch over at any moment.
He looked forward again. They could see Baron Castle, from here. Just barely, though. They’d be back soon.
Corvin stood there with the wind in his hair, the noonday sun beating down. His thoughts drifted, really. Didn’t hold onto anything important for long. He wasn’t really aware. Of anything. He had learned to do this just last night, as for the second time since this began, he found himself preoccupied by his missing sister. He detached his mind, sort of. There was no better way to describe it.
It seemed like only moments, but it must have been hours, because they were losing altitude, arriving for a landing when he snapped out of it. They were less than a hundred feet off the ground when he heard cannon fire. And it wasn’t coming from their ships.
Instead, it came from Baron Castle itself. Which, as Corvin reflected when a cannonball sailed over his shoulder and crashed into the deck behind him, was nothing less than insane. He wondered if he were dreaming. But no; the shouts, the panic, they were real enough. He dove to the deck, carrying Ophelia down with him, and scrambled away from the edge. He rolled, almost dragging her with him, and tried to keep an eye on what was coming towards him. Which turned out to be two cannonballs, each four inches across. One of them was blown apart as Ophelia gasped out a single word. The second one struck Corvin in the shoulder, hurling him back. He hit one of the masts, and collapsed. The shoulder was broken badly. He howled with pain and crawled awkwardly away, then struggled into a sitting position against a pile of boxes.
The Lunaria was turning around to port, now...slowly, ponderously, struggling for altitude. Corvin didn’t have to ask the engineers if the ship could make it away; he knew the range of a cannon, he knew the speed of an airship, and he knew that it wouldn’t.
Apparently, the captain knew it too, because after a moment the ship stopped heading for the sky and approached the ground in a controlled descent. He felt the deck shake beneath him as they hit the ground at a speed roughly double what was safe. The hull had cracked; no way it wouldn’t have, landing at that speed. He saw Porom toward the port side, chanting, and suddenly the cannons couldn’t reach them, instead impacting on a bright, translucent orange wall of magic some ten yards out. The wizardess ran for the gangplank, then noticed Corvin lying against the crates. She left the others, the crew and the passengers, to escape; Corvin noticed Ophelia run down the plank, looking back over her shoulder. And then Porom was reaching down, hauling him up. When she saw his shoulder, she did something that Corvin had never heard from her before; she swore. Luridly. The shape of the words on her lips seemed unnatural and out of place.
"Nothing I can do for this now," she muttered quickly. "Here; lean on me,"
Corvin slung his good arm over her, and they struggled across the deck and down to the ground. The pain was blinding. His shoulder wasn’t broken, he amended; it was shattered.
Ophelia met them at the ground, and Porom stopped. The younger woman had an expression of panic.
"Is he all right?" Ophelia demanded.
"No, he’s not! Don’t worry about him, get moving yourself...no, wait!"
Porom looked as if she were struggling with herself a moment, then spoke. "Here, take the spell from me," she ordered. "I can’t hold something this size any longer. Take it and run; I’ll bring him."
Ophelia gaped at her, and well she should have. Corvin knew her power, and knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold a shield that big nearly as long as Porom could.
A look at Porom told him why she was passing the spell; her face was gray, almost white. She hadn’t recovered from yesterday, and she had put up a spell that would have been difficult for her even in the best of times. Corvin heard Porom’s voice rise up, and Ophelia’s rise to match it; it took only a few moments before the burden was transferred, and Ophelia sagged for a moment as the weight of the spell settled on her. Only for a moment, though, and then all three of them were running. Well, two of them were running. Corvin was closer to being carried. And the pain was bringing him closer and closer to unconsciousness.
As darkness flooded into his mind, his last thought regarded that it had been quite a good move of their enemies, taking airship cannons, and placing them on the walls.
As the moon rose in the east, Kain Highwind stood and looked. Only looked. For the second time in his life, he saw his home castle as an enemy fortress.
He wondered for a moment what had happened to the missing residents of Baron Town. The place was deserted. Empty streets had greeted the Eblani when they scouted the place, earlier.
Not that it mattered. Concentration was what mattered, now. He felt his armor wrapped around him, drizzling rain sliding down it. His helmet was off, for now. To his right stood Cecil, King of Baron. To his left stood a wizardess, aged something just over thirty, whom he couldn’t remember the name of. Kimberly, he thought, but that, too, was unimportant. She didn’t say much. She had to watch the walls; no party went anywhere near the walls without a wizard.
"It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?" Cecil asked softly.
"Yes," Kain replied. "It is." Short words, quiet words. It was always like this, the night before a battle. Nothing could sober a man quite like the knowledge that he would most likely be dead by the next setting of the sun.
Behind them was an airship, the Stardancer. Like the others, it was damaged beyond hope of flight. Still intact, still reparable, but no one could get in close enough to repair it. The only ships still flightworthy were the four remaining tiny Stingrays and the Lunar Memory, the massive ship that served as their base. The former had been fast enough to escape the point-blank bombardment, and the latter was simply too damn big to be seriously damaged.
So that was what they were left with. At least now they knew what had happened to the remaining captured airships; they were grounded behind the castle, where neither side could reach them without exposing themselves.
"It’s an even fight, at least," Kain said at last, when the silence had stretched long enough. "They have wall-mounted cannons, and we have half a dozen or so airships. We outnumber them, but not by much, and our troops include the elite of several nations. They make up for both of those simply by being behind those walls, where they’re protected. An even fight. And we have Bahamut."
"We can’t count too much on him," Cecil said, calmly, calmly...too calmly. Kain could tell just by his tone of voice that he had detached himself, a warrior’s trick that served one well in battle, kept the mind free of emotion, allowed rational thought to rule. A useful trick, but dangerous; too often, it could go too far. When a man went so deep into it that he ceased caring, that was when the blood began to flow like a river.
On the other hand, Cecil was a Paladin, like himself. More than a Paladin, maybe; his silver hilted sword differed from Kain’s only by the words etched into the blade, the Mysidian Legend.
One to be born, from a dragon, Kain thought. A legend fulfilled nearly two decades past.
"They know we have him to help us," Cecil continued. "We have to assume they’ll be able to counter him this time."
That was another danger sign. Speaking of people as if they were simple weapons. Or of monsters as the same. But Kain understood; it was necessary, and he knew Cecil didn’t mean harm by it. It didn’t make him worry any less, though, even though he knew that he himself would have to enter the same state, tomorrow. He didn’t think he could bring himself to fight his own countrymen, otherwise.
"We’ll manage. Somehow."
"Hopefully. I just hope I can find some way to keep Rosa out of it."
"Doubt it," Kain said. Not for the first time, he wished that he had the same kind of relationship, with someone, that Cecil had with Rosa. Someone he could love. But he was nearing forty, and hadn’t found anyone. It was another thought that seemed to come up whenever he went into battle. Too late now, probably. Even if he lived through the morrow, it was probably too late; he felt the years press down on him.
"Think we’ll live?" Cecil asked. Kain wondered if his old friend had thought as much about death as he had. Tonight seemed the night for such thoughts.
"Maybe," was all he said. "But even if we don’t, everyone dies sometime."
"Good point."
A torch could be seen burning up on the wall, carried by an unseen hand. Kain’s muscles tensed, but no...the torch passed out of sight, and they weren’t seen. Or at least, if they were, no cry went up.
"I’m going to turn in, I think," Cecil said once the danger had passed. "It’s another ten hours until dawn, I’m guessing."
Kain nodded. The first part of the attack would begin two hours before dawn. Edge would lead his men through the underground passage between Baron Town and the castle. With any luck, they could capture the gate and destroy most of the cannons before the enemy knew what was happening.
With any luck. But Kain had been in enough battles to know not to count on luck. He was ready.
Cecil left. Kain stood there for a moment, Mysidian wizardess at his side. And then he followed.