FINAL FANTASY LEGACY Knights of the Round An ImproFanfic by Brian Stricklin Chapter One: Hello and Goodbye The morning sun had not yet burned off the fog that cloaked the streets of Tienne. While this would have theoretically made the young woman's escape easier, all it meant in practice was that she kept getting lost in the city's myriad alleys and avenues. She'd lived in Tienne all her life, but the Guards were used to chasing down prisoners, while she had never needed to explore the darker areas of town. This point was made clear when she nearly ran into the back of one of the Holy Guardsmen searching for her. He turned around and looked at her panicked expression. "Hey, aren't you..." She tried to back away, but his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist. The Guardsman grinned unpleasantly as she squirmed in his grasp. "Marcine Cavanaugh, I presume? Looks like I get a bonus in my pay this week." "Let me go!" she pleaded desperately. "I haven't done anything wrong!" "That's not what I heard." He pulled a flare grenade from his belt with his free hand and, thumbing the timer, tossed it high over his head. It detonated, the bright light shining through the fog and alerting the other Guards to his position. "Heresy, blasphemy, electromancy... you've been a very naughty girl. Can't say I know what that last one is, though." With a swift, frantic tug, she freed herself and stepped away. "I'll show you what it means," Marcine panted, then cupped her hands close together before her. "Gather, storm," she muttered as quickly as she dared, a vibrant tone entering her voice, "and strike out at my enemy with your fury!" Sparks danced between her palms, and the Guardsman nervously started to back up. She spread her hands toward him. "Bolt!" A yellow shaft of lightning leapt out from her hands and struck home against the Guardsman's armor, singeing the symbol of the sacred Tri-fan inscribed there. With a grunt of pain he fell to the ground - by that time, Marcine was already off and running again. *Just keep running,* she told herself, as her lungs labored painfully under the unaccustomed exercise. *Keep running, and somehow you'll make it...* A doorway, light streaming through an adjacent window, rose out of the fog before her. Sanctuary! "There she is!" The voice behind her was far too close for her liking. "Over here!" Marcine stumbled as she approached the door and fetched up heavily against it, then pounded on the wooden surface. "Please, help me!" she cried. "They're going to *kill*-" The light was abruptly switched off, and the window's shutter was closed and bolted. Marcine, her body pushed beyond its limits, dropped to her knees and gasped for breath. *Of course. Nobody in their right mind would defy the Church...* She heard several sets of footsteps approach her, then stop. As she lifted her head, she saw no less than four Guardsmen surrounding her, looking a bit more cautious than the man that had caught her earlier. They made no move to capture her. They seemed to be... waiting. Long minutes passed, the tension in the air growing thicker during the interminable wait... Then she heard it. Heavy footsteps, slow and sure. Marcine carefully stood up, trying to ignore the sharp pains in her legs, and watched the fog anxiously as it slid apart to reveal a large, strong man with a thick black moustache and dressed in the uniform of the Commander of the Holy Guard. Marcine raised a hand to the golden Tri-Fan pendant at her neck, fear and shame washing through her. "F-father..." There was no mercy or compassion in the eyes of Armand Cavanaugh as he gazed at his daughter - only a cold, unforgiving resolve. "You shouldn't have tried to escape, Marcine," he said, his voice deep and reproachful. "And attacking a Holy Guardsman is a very severe crime." A measure of guilt was added to the mix. "Is he... will he...?" Armand's features softened slightly. "He'll live." The frown returned. "But the fact remains that you *did* attack him. The law is very clear in this matter - your punishment must be increased." She shook her head uncertainly. "But... but if I was to be put to death... how can..." The confusion suddenly cleared, and her eyes widened. "No... no! You can't!" Ignoring Marcine's pleas, her father nodded to a Guardsman. "Put the manacles on her, and make sure they're tight this time." "Yes, sir." The young woman struggled, but the chase had drained her strength and she was unable to put up more than token resistance. There was a bright flash as the rune-engraved manacles snapped shut around her wrists, sealing off her magic. "Marcine Cavanaugh," Armand said solemnly, in a voice tightly controlled, "in accordance with the laws of Tienne and the Holy Commandments of the Three Gods, you are hereby sentenced to living petrification and interment in the Wall of Fools." His daughter lowered her head sorrowfully, unable to meet Armand's gaze. "I... I understand." There was a pause, and when the Commander spoke again, it was as from an anguished father to his wayward child. "Marcie... why did you do it, Marcie? Why did you use magic on that boy? In front of so many people?" She didn't lift her head. "He'd been hit by a steamcar, father. If I hadn't cured him, he wouldn't have survived." Armand sighed. "Did you forget everything I raised you to believe?" "No!" She looked at him now, her expression still frightened, but also determined. "You taught us to help people whenever possible. And magic *can* help people, father! It's not evil! I don't care what the Church says, it can-" She stopped as he stepped forward, hand raised as if to strike her - something he had never done in her full seventeen years of life - and she flinched away. After a moment, he dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist at his side. "I won't hear any more of your blasphemy, girl." He turned away, and the Guardsmen started to move in towards her. "Take her to the processing center. I want her encased in stone by sundown." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "I hate Tienne," the lean, unshaven man said, scowling down at the bustling city. "I can practically smell it from here." "Now, now," his companion said reproachfully. "It's a perfectly clean town." "That's what I mean. *Perfectly* clean. Too much soap and polish, if ya ask me. As if bein' squeaky clean makes 'em more holy. Huh!" The other man shook his head with a smile as they walked down the valley road toward Tienne. "Somehow I don't think that's what's *really* bothering you." "Hey, I've never been much of a choirboy - you know me." He shifted the long-barreled blunderbuss cradled on his shoulder into a more comfortable position. "I just don't trust the Priests. Bunch of greedy elitists, when they're not wipin' out people they *say* are usin' magic." His companion, a large, well-muscled man with close-cut blonde hair, rolled his eyes. "Not *this* again..." "C'mon, Biggs - you know I'm right. There can't be as many wizards around as the Church says there is. Logic'lly, *some* of 'em have to be fake reports, when the Priests just want someone out of the way." Biggs rubbed his chin. "That's never been proven." "Yeah? Since the Church conducts the investigations themselves, I ain't surprised." He glanced to his right. "What do you think, kid? You've been around - how many wizards have ya met?" The third traveler, who had been ambling along next to his companions, looked up at the question. He was a young man, no more than eighteen years old, and his features and skin tone had an unusual, foreign cast to it that nobody he'd met had ever been able to identify. The slender, slightly curved sword tied to a sash around his waist was equally enigmatic, but his manner and clothing were fully local. He wore a loose shirt under sparse armor, consisting mainly of shoulder plates and thick arm guards on his right arm, and his dark and unruly hair was tied in a rough ponytail that reached partway down his back. In response to the question, he held up his hands with a smile and shook his head. "Hey, now, don't get *me* involved in this, Wedge. You know what I'm going to say, right?" "Yeah, yeah. 'We can neither confirm nor deny...' Typical Mystic Academy line." The young man shrugged and tapped the Tri-fan pin on his collar - a common bit of ornamentation within the Church's influence, consisting of a red point honoring the God of Courage, blue for the Goddess of Purity, and yellow for the God of Wisdom. "*Officially*, there's no such thing as magic. Just natural phenomena." As the trio continued their journey toward Tienne, a pair of patrolling Holy Guardsmen passed by. Though they didn't seem interested in the travelers, Biggs lowered his voice unconsciously. "It's odd hearing you say that, Davin, having seen some of the things you can do." "It's easy if you know how to do it." He glanced at the Guardsmen. "But even though the Church allows us a little leeway in our studies, magic's the one subject that's always been taboo." "No big shock there." Wedge sneered at the backs of the Guards when they were well out of range. "It's like I've always said - the Priests hate things they can't control." They passed through the main gates of Tienne, a huge iron portcullis held over their heads by thick chains. The Guards on duty looked at the travelers with disapproving stares, but made no move to stop them. As they drew to a halt in the crowded bazaar just inside the gates, filled with the beckonings of merchants even this early in the day, Biggs looked around absently. "So what now?" Davin shrugged. "I've got to go meet someone before I do anything else. I've been away for a while." "All right." "Meanwhile," Wedge added, "me and Biggs'll go lookin' for a job. I thought I saw the Lucky Star in port while we were walkin' down here - they always pay pretty good for guards." "Sounds good. Meet you guys back here later?" "You bet." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Not too far away, an age-old drama was being re-enacted... "GRRRRRRR!" The misshapen, slightly frayed creature shook ferociously. "I am a big nasty monster, and I'm gonna gobble you up!" Its intended victim, an equally rumpled girl with blonde hair clumsily painted red, bounced once or twice. "Eeeek! Oh, no, it's a monster! What will happen to me?" The savage beast jumped around a bit. "GRRRR!" it said, emphasizing its main point. "Come here so I can eat you!" "Help! Help!" As the girl bounded over the patchwork landscape, the monster quickly followed, chasing her in large, awkward circles. "Please don't eat me!" "GRRRR!" It might be noticed at this point that the monster and the girl had very similar voices. "I'm so hungry! GRRRR!" "Oh, no! Won't somebody help me?" Abruptly the girl fell bonelessly to the ground. As the monster stopped its pursuit, a third figure appeared from nowhere. This one appeared rather more worn than the other two, and had metallic bits tied unconvincingly to his arm. "Don't worry, Mika," he said, again in oddly familiar tones, "I'll save you!" He suddenly fell down. The girl stood up again. "Big brother!" Then she fell down. As the third person got up, the monster backed up a little. "Oh, no! It's Davin! GRRRR!" "That's right! And I'm gonna get you for scaring Mika!" The figure identified as Davin leaned down to touch the ground, then both he and the monster fell to the ground lifelessly. "Pillow Strike!" There was a minor earthquake, then a huge yet soft projectile fell from the sky and landed on the luckless beast. "GRRRR!" The monster got to its feet. "Oh, you're too strong!" "And now," Davin decided, "I'll kick you to death!" As the monster fell down again, Davin jumped over to it and started kicking it repeatedly with one leg. "Yah! Yah! Yah! Yah! Y-" There was a small, sad tearing sound, and the leg was abruptly pulled off. Little bits of white material fell to the ground. Another similar voice was heard: "Whoops. I broke it." Davin's leg was pushed back against its original position a few times, just in case it would be miraculously fixed, then was tossed carelessly aside. "Oh, no, Mika!" Davin shouted. "The monster ate my leg off!" "Mean ol' monster!" Mika hopped over and kicked the monster off a nearby cliff, then hurried over to her would-be rescuer's side. "Don't worry, Davin! Now we'll get married, and I'll take care of you forever and ever!" "Mika, you're so nice to me..." A new voice - totally unrelated to the others - cleared its throat. "Well, at least I know I'll be in good hands if a monster ever eats my leg off." "Big brother!" Discarding her dolls for the moment, the *real* girl jumped off her bed and scampered over to her brother. With vibrant red hair braided with yellow ribbons, she looked no more than ten years old, though the large glasses she wore made her appear a bit older. "When did you get back?" "Just now." Davin knelt down, and she gave him a big hug. "Have you been behaving yourself?" "Uh-huh." "Doing your homework on time?" Mika pouted. "Yeah, but alchemy's boooooring. I wanna go out and beat up monsters!" He grinned and ruffled her hair. "One of these days you will, shrimp. Speaking of which..." He glanced at his dismembered counterpart on the bed. "What happened to 'my' sword? I don't usually kick things to death, y'know." "Heh heh..." She grinned in embarrassment. "I kinda sorta... lost it." Davin shook his head fondly. "What a surprise." "Want me to cook you a big dinner?" Mika offered quickly, trying to change the subject. "Mrs. Walters has been showing me how, and she says I'm old enough now to handle the big pan!" "I'd love that," he began regretfully, "but I can't stay too long. I met a couple of guys and we've been traveling together. They'll be waiting for me down by the gates." "Awww... do you hafta go so soon?" "I'm afraid so, small fry. It's the best way to keep looking, right?" "I guess..." She looked up at him hopefully. "Have you found out anything yet?" Davin sighed. "Not yet. There was no word of your parents in Koden or La Verde - I'm gonna make my way back to the Academy next to see if they've gotten anything." "Oh. What about... *your* parents?" He hesitated, then replied, a bit too brightly, "Hey, first things first, right? We'll worry about that once we get your folks back." "If you say so." Standing back up, he reached into the belt pouch he wore and removed a smaller pouch from within. "Here you go." He tossed it to her; it jingled as she caught it. "That oughta take care of rent and food and stuff until the next time I'm through, so don't waste it." Mika rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. I've been good so far, haven't I?" He grinned. "Yeah, you have." A steady chime caught his attention, and he looked up at the moogle-clock on her wall. The tiny white and pink figure emerged from its doorway and chirped eleven times before retreating. "Well, I think I've got some time... Tell you what: you make something small for lunch, and I'll run down to the store and pick up some extra stuff for you. Sound good?" "Okay!" -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Two soldiers, each clad in bright crimson gear, rose effortlessly over the training yard with spears in hand. The lift provided by vents in the back of their streamlined armor was already beginning to fade, but there was more than enough left to finish what they'd started. One of them, perhaps worried about the diminishing power of his jetpack-like armor, leaned forward and let the fiery jets launch him toward his opponent. The other soldier, a grim smile hidden beneath his helmet, merely straightened his legs and floated upwards, then performed a partial flip. By the time the first man realized what was happening, his opponent had dived down onto him and struck home with the heavily-padded tip of his training lance, sending him into a downward spiral. The losing soldier struck the ground, though hard-earned skills allowed him to roll enough to avoid the worst of the damage. A few seconds later the victor landed effortlessly on his feet. There was a smattering of applause, not only from the other soldiers watching the practice session but also (and more loudly) from a flock of young women peering over the barracks' walls. After checking to make sure no bones were broken, the loser of the duel stood up with a sheepish grin. "Guess you got me, huh? You're sure-" His opponent whipped off his draconian helmet, exposing long blonde hair and well-tanned skin. "That was sloppy!" he snapped angrily. "If you're not going to take this seriously, you ought to go back to scrubbing the latrines!" "But I just-" "Your boost armor will give you a full thirty seconds of lift, but you panicked and jumped the gun at twelve! That gave me plenty of time to retaliate." He stalked away. "There's no room in the Dragoons for amateurs. Straighten up your act, or pack your bags." "Uh, y-yes, sir. I'll do better next time." The other soldier ignored him and left the training yard behind, moving to stand under a shady tree. "Ouch." The unfortunate young Dragoon rubbed his neck as the other soldiers drew closer. "Could someone find my head? I think he bit it clean off." "Kyle's not usually like this," another soldier admitted, glancing at the young ladies at the wall. "I've never seen him act like that in front of his admirers. Women don't like short- tempered men, he's always said." There was much surreptitious note-taking among the younger men; anything Kyle said about women was something to be remembered. "Well, you've got to remember," an older Dragoon drawled, "he's got other things on his mind right now." "Like what?" "You mean you didn't hear?" He nodded at the brooding form of Kyle. "Little Marcine got arrested as a wizard yesterday. Even tried to escape this morning - she's going on the Wall." "What? No way!" "I can't believe it. Who would have thought a sweet girl like that would end up as a heretic?" The older Dragoon nodded. "So cut him some slack, okay? I don't envy what he's going through." Under the shade of the tree, gazing up at the sky as the sunlight filtered through the leaves to inscribe patterns on his face, Kyle sighed a heartfelt sigh. *Damn it, Sis,* he thought to himself, *why did you have to go and do something stupid like that?* -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- If he'd gone home from the store the usual way, he would have missed it. But a steamcar collision - unusual even in Tienne, since only the very rich could afford the high- maintenance vehicles - blocked off his return route, and he'd been forced to detour around the accident. It had been quite a while since he'd explored much of Tienne, and as he stepped out into a white-cobbled plaza, Davin realized he'd gotten turned around. He frowned in annoyance and turned to leave... but looked back curiously. There was a grand building where, he vaguely recalled, a set of stores and homes used to be. The new structure stood nearly four stories tall, and its walls gleamed with well-scrubbed marble. The Sacred Tri-Fan was emblazoned over the main doorway, inlaid in the stone with gold and semiprecious materials. A pair of Holy Guardsmen flanked the doorway. Shifting the bag of knives, pots, and other utensils he'd bought to his other hand, Davin approached the edifice slowly, frowning slightly. Was this a temple? It didn't seem like one - it was too narrow, and wouldn't be able to hold much of a congregation. But it was certainly ornate enough to be a cathedral of sorts. Some High Priest's new home? Again, too small. Perhaps... Davin suddenly realized that, though the pedestrian traffic across the plaza was heavy, everyone seemed to give the building a wide berth. His curiosity started to get the better of him. He'd never been able to let a mystery lie unsolved... Wandering closer to the building, he approached the Guards at the door. They gripped their pikes a bit more tightly, but otherwise remained motionless. Davin looked from one to the other for a moment, shrugged, and reached for the doorknob. As he expected, the pikes were lowered, crossing in front of him to bar his way. "You can't go in there," the Guard on his left said. "Authorized personnel only," his counterpart confirmed. He took a step back. "Fair enough. So, what's in there, anyway?" They remained silent. "Must be important, with two tough guys like you at the door." Silence. "You know, I've never seen anything like this before. I'd really like to see what's inside." Silence. "Tell you what. I'll just take a quick peek, and be on my way." He reached out for the large bronze handle. "It'll just be our-" It's hard to talk, he decided, with pikeheads at your throat. "Or," he continued carefully, "maybe I'll just wander away for a bit. Right? Right." He rubbed his neck thoughtfully as he descended the polished stone steps. So, whatever was inside was very important, or something they wanted kept secret. Or both. And judging from the way everyone was avoiding the place, the word had gotten out not to be too interested in it. Davin leaned against the building's wall, peering up at the guarded doorway. Maybe he was wasting his time. He didn't have enough facts to figure this out... and really, was it that important? "Yes," he admitted aloud after some thought, "I think it is. What *is* this place?" A moment later, a small voice answered him. "You really don't know, do you?" He blinked and looked around. "Hello?" "Down here." A small barred window had been set into the marble - actually, hard stone covered by marble - and the voice was coming from within. "You shouldn't try to find out. People get beaten for asking too many questions... or worse." He knelt next to the window, setting his bag to the side. It was too dark to see inside, but the voice sounded feminine. "Who are you?" "It's... not important. Not anymore." Davin frowned again. "Are you a prisoner? Is this a jail?" "Trust me, you don't want to get involved." Her voice sounded strained, as if it had been worn out by crying. "You especially don't want to be talking to me." "I'll be the judge of that." He looked from the window to the guards, who were paying him no attention. "This is a bit too ornate to be a prison, don't you think? So that's out." There was a faint sigh. "You'll get in trouble, asking questions like that." "Call it a hobby." "Asking questions, or getting into trouble?" "Both." A muffled giggle rose from the tiny window, accompanied by the clink of chains. *She's definitely a prisoner of sorts,* Davin decided, *but she doesn't sound like your standard rough- and-tough criminal...* "My name's Davin," he said aloud, sitting down and leaning against the wall. "Davin Highwater. And you're Not Important, right?" "I'm... Marcine. Just Marcine." "Nice to meet you, Marcine." He peered into the window again. "Okay. If we can't talk about this place, let's talk about you." Her voice sounded surprised. "Me?" "Why not? I'm just curious how you ended up in there. Though I'll understand if you don't want to talk about it." "No, it's okay..." Her voice quieted a bit. "I might as well, I suppose. But it's a long story." He smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." And Mika would understand. He hoped. But it was the least he could do. From the sound of things, whatever crime she'd committed, it had been pretty severe, and she wouldn't be around much longer. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- So she talked. Reluctantly at first, growing only a bit easier as she continued, she told him about being raised in a high-class family, her lineage tracing back among the greatest leaders of the Church. Her father was a Commander in the army, and her brother was a highly skilled Dragoon, who would already be captain of a squad if not for his young age. It was obvious to everyone that Marcine would follow in her mother's footsteps and become a Priestess of Purity. "Is that was you wanted?" Davin interrupted. There was a pause, then Marcine said slowly, "You know, I think that's the *first* time anyone's asked me that. Tradition is very important in my family. I don't think anyone gave it a second thought. I suppose I might have wanted it, if I'd been given a choice in the matter. But with everyone pushing me toward the Church, I felt..." There was another rattle of chains. "...trapped." She sought the solace of books - not just religious texts, of course, but tales of far-off lands, history books, physics and mathematics... anything that would get her mind off the blue Priestess robes she would inevitably wear. She would spend long hours in the Tienne Grand Library, trying to find something - anything - to change her fate. And she succeeded, though not in the way she wanted. It was the history books that doomed her - in a long forgotten room of the Library, she found what she thought to be a tome of truly ancient history, several thousand years at least. What she'd gotten, however, was... "Was what?" Marcine hesitated. "Before I tell you, I want to say... thank you." "Huh?" "Thank you for listening to me. But what I say next... well, you're going to hate me for it." When he didn't reply, she sighed. "I'd found the Codex of the Manakyr." The pause from the other side of the window deepened. "So. Magic, huh? That explains a lot... I thought all traces of their culture had been wiped out centuries ago, though. That's what usually happens to people who go up against the Church." "You... you're not... I was expecting you to get angry and leave. I'm a, a heretic, after all." Illogically, she felt she could *hear* his smile. "Let's just say I like to keep an open mind. Okay, so you found the ancient scriptures of the Manakyr - in Tienne, no less, that must have been good for a laugh - and of course ended up learning more than you'd planned." "I didn't mean to," she admitted. "It went against everything I'd been taught. But once I realized what magic was capable of doing... I mean, there's nothing good or bad about it, just in the way it's used." "That's the way it is with most things," Davin replied sympathetically. So, against her better judgement, Marcine had studied the time-weathered tome, in the faint but misguided hope that she could eventually prove to the Church - or at least her father - that magic wasn't evil. She discovered she had a knack for the art, and soon mastered several different spells and techniques. She even managed to find a small box of magical components from the Manakyr Empire, overlooked by the Library's curators, and managed to smuggle it out. Once she became a Priestess, she reasoned, she'd be able to convince others of the truth about magic. And then a steamcar struck a child, and she'd ended up a heretic. There was another extended silence from beyond the window. Finally, she heard Davin stand up and stretch a bit. "That's not right," he said, and she was surprised to hear pure, steel-hard anger in his voice. "You saved that kid's life - they should reward you, not kill you for it." "They're not going to kill me." "Huh?" "Well, I mean, that's no more than I deserve, but..." A clank of metal echoed down the hallway outside her cell, and Marcine's heart skipped a beat. "They're coming for me," she whispered. "*Who* is? Marcine, what *is* this place?" She backed against the hard stone wall, standing under the window. "Have you ever heard of the Sinner's Wall?" "I've heard rumors," he replied darkly. "That's where I'm going. That's where all the horrible criminals and traitors and blasphemers go. They, they've got this, this *coffin*, and all sorts of pipes and tubes... they put you in it, and when you come out," she continued, aware that she was starting to babble but unable to stop, "you're, you're covered in stone, but you're still alive, can't see, can't hear, can't talk... and then they put you on the Sinner's Wall as, as an example to..." "Marcine." She tried to answer, but could only manage a sob. "Marcine!" Taking a deep breath, she managed - with difficulty - to compose herself. "I, I'm all right. You'd better go. If they find out you've been talking to me, you'd end up on the Wall yourself." "It would have been worth it." She heard a slight rustling sound. "Let me ask you two last questions. First, do you really believe that magic can be used for good?" "Yes," she admitted, and was surprised at how quickly she reached that decision. "I'm sure of it." "That's what I thought." A shadow passed in front of the window. A few moments later, she thought she heard a pair of pained grunts, though it was hard to tell over the noise of the city. A few more moments passed. "Um... Davin? What was the second question?" There was no reply. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't really blame Davin for leaving, she decided, clutching at the Tri-fan necklace she wore in faint hope of protection. At least she'd gotten the chance to talk to one last person before... She backed into a corner as door slowly opened. A large, thick-bodied Guard stood there, staring at her blankly. After a long moment, he fell forward, pushing the door the rest of the way open. Davin stepped over the prone Guard, dropping the heavy iron pot he'd used to knock out the guard. "The second question," he said, "is this: do you *really* think you deserve to be permanently set in stone for healing a child?" "Um... when you put it that way... no, not really." He grinned. "Then let's go." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The young woman that stepped out into the light was rather pretty, in an honest way. Her straight blonde hair fell to her shoulders, and pale skin told of too many hours indoors. She wore a dark blue dress and a rather unusual wide-brimmed hat, pointed at the top and colored a yellowish tan. More important to Davin's mind at the moment was the runed manacles around her wrists. He lifted his sword. "Don't move." Marcine blinked. "What? But..." There was a flash of metal, and abruptly the manacles were on the floor, cut into pieces. There was a brief sizzle, then the glowing runes softly faded. As Marcine rubbed her wrists, her rescuer gestured to her impatiently. "Come on, there's not much time. It won't be long before they realize something's wrong." "Why are you doing this? Don't you know what will happen to you?" "Oh, yeah. I know. I also know what will happen to *you*. Now, come *on*!" Swallowing her doubts for the moment, she followed as he led her toward the exit. "What are we going to do now?" she panted. "Leave the city." "What? But... I've never left Tienne." He peered around a corner cautiously, then hurried forward. "Well, if we stay, they'll catch us for sure. The Church isn't as strong out in the countryside - we'll stand a better chance out there. Think of it as a chance to broaden your horizons." When she still seemed hesitant as they approached the front door, he turned and gave her his best smile. "Look, don't worry. We'll get through this. Trust me." Such statements, of course, are dangerous, and would likely have resulted in a full platoon of Guardsmen waiting outside as Davin and Marcine made their exit. Fortunately, the only resistance they met were two softly moaning figures on either side of the door. Marcine looked down at the barely conscious Guards in surprise - she knew her father had assigned the best soldiers under his command to this duty. "Now we run?" "We *walk*," he corrected, casually leading the way. "If we run, we'll attract attention to ourselves." "Oh." She followed slowly behind him, gaze turned downward. "I... I guess I'm a fugitive now, as well as a heretic." "Better than being petrified," Davin pointed out. "But I've gotten *you* into this, too. I, I should go back. Maybe once they have me, they'll forget about you..." As she trailed off, he glanced over his shoulder. "You know they wouldn't. Anyway, I got myself into this. Call me crazy, but I don't think people should be killed or worse just for trying to help people." "And that's worth risking your own life?" "Can't think of a better reason." They wove through the pedestrian traffic, which began to thin as the day dragged on into afternoon. "So, um... you know about me, Davin, but you haven't told me about you." He shrugged. "Not much to tell, really." "Well, what are your parents like?" Davin walked in silence a bit. "That's what I'd like to know." She blinked and looked at him questioningly. He sighed. "I was... found, when I was about five or six. And no, I don't remember anything about my parents." He glanced down at the slim sword at his waist. "This is the only thing I had with me. Sort of a birthright, you know?" "I'm... I'm sorry." "No, that's okay. My foster parents are good people, and I love them. I just want to know my *own* mother and father." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, I think you should get ready to run." "What?" "Only there's a bunch of Guards up ahead, and I don't think they're looking at all the pretty girls just for fun." She blushed. "So, do we run now?" "Not quite yet. Wait for them to say..." "HEY! You, over there!" A grin flashed across his face. "*That's* the word. Break left!" As Marcine hesitantly ran down an adjoining street, Davin scooped a hand into what was left of his shopping trip, removed a rounded object, and tossed it toward the Guards. "GRENADE!" The Guards, knowing full well what to do in such a situation, fell over themselves trying to dive out of the way. The rest of the crowd, though, were not as well versed in combat evasion techniques, and most of them just watched in puzzlement as the projectile arced through the air and landed on the cobblestones, smashing apart from the impact. Thick, gooey strawberry preserves splattered everywhere, coating the street and many unlucky shoes with its fruity goodness. By the time the jar had finished its journey, of course, Davin had already sped down the street after Marcine. It didn't take long to over take her, and soon he was leading the way again, making sure not to pull ahead too far. Behind him, though, Marcine was having some difficulties. "Davin!" she called, her breath labored. "I'm not... very good at... running!" "Don't worry," he returned. "Just a little further, and we can hide in the crowd again! They won't have-" A rough shout caught his attention. "There they are!" Davin faced forward again, and to his surprise saw a pair of pike-wielding Guards blocking the way some distance ahead. "Not bad," he admitted. "Marcine! Keep running!" "...but..." "Do it!" The Guards grinned as the young man sprinted toward them, and lowered their pikes to intercept him. It would be the easiest collar they made all- Davin's hand darted down to the hilt of his sword as he sprinted closer to the Guards. In a blindingly fast movement, the unusual weapon was drawn, swung, and replaced before the Guards could react. A fraction of a second later, the young man barreled between the Guards, knocking them heavily to the sides as they stared at their now headless pikes, the metal points clattering to the ground. Marcine passed by shortly thereafter while they were still trying to pick themselves up. "I gotta hand it to these guys," Davin called out conversationally. "I didn't think they'd find us so quickly." When silence was his only reply, he turned to see Marcine staggering painfully behind him, trying in vain to keep up. She looked up as a hand closed around her wrist, and saw Davin's reassuring smile. "C'mon - there should be a park over this way. Plenty of hiding places there." Marcine nodded mutely and he led her down an alleyway. There was indeed a park - not a large one, but well-equipped with trees, ornamental gardens, and a small brook artistically designed to trickle through the artificial wilderness. A small copse of young maple trees gave the two fugitives the brief cover they needed to recuperate. "I... I'll never... make it," Marcine gasped. "I should... give up now... or we'll both be caught." "Not happening," he told her bluntly. "Besides, it's not all that far now. Just hang in there - we'll be okay." She nodded, taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the sharp pain in her side. While Marcine did her best to recover, Davin watched their surroundings alertly, and scowled as he saw a trio of Guards searching the area. After questioning a gardener who helpfully pointed the way, the Guards headed purposefully toward the grove. "Great," Davin muttered. "Marcine, do you think you can make it to the gate?" "Just a minute... longer." He nodded. "Stay down, then. I'll handle this." As she looked up in confusion and alarm, Davin stepped out of the copse and leaned casually against a tree, his left arm resting against the bark. "Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked pleasantly. The Guards watched him warily. Word had gotten out. "You're under arrest," the leader of the three stated. "Come quietly, and the punishment *might* be lighter." He grinned amiably. "Now, how can I resist an offer like that?" "D-Davin?" Marcine was stunned. So were the Guards. Keeping their weapons leveled at the young man, they drew closer. "But, y'know," he said, and Marcine's eyes widened as she saw his left hand, hidden behind the tree, begin to glow with a blue light. "I'd like to just say one thing beforehand." "Yeah, what?" His grin turned nasty. "Spirits of wood and forest," he chanted, his voice rumbling with power, "honor the ancient covenant and grant me your power!" The blue glow spread across the bark as Davin pressed his hand against the tree, then was somehow drawn back in, infusing Davin's hand with the essence of the tree and making it appear for a moment to be made of wood itself. The Guards sensed something was wrong and rushed forward, but were far too late to prevent Davin from extending the bark- covered hand toward them. "Leaf Dance!" A cyclone seemed to erupt from his palm, filled with dry leaves and twigs. The force of the wind directed at the Guards was intense, and before they could brace themselves they were tossed back to land heavily in a tidily-kept rock garden. They didn't get back up. Davin turned back to Marcine, his hand already returned to normal. "That was about a minute, I think." She stood up, a bit shakily. "You... you're an elementalist? You're from the Mystic Academy?" He nodded. "Guilty as charged." "But then... why did you believe my story? I thought you people weren't supposed to believe in magic." "Yeah, well, we're also supposed to think for ourselves. Now, let's get going. These guys won't stay out for long." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Mika glared at the clock. The table was set, the food was ready (and getting cold), and she was expecting a nice stack of presents. He was late. "Well, fine!" she said loudly, to nobody in particular. "I'll eat it all myself! You don't get anything!" She sat down, and suddenly discovered that she'd lost her appetite. "...Not a thing," she muttered as she picked at her food. Probably getting into trouble again. No consideration. Well, she wasn't a little kid any more. One of these days, she'd follow him and make sure he stayed out of trouble. Serve him right for leaving her all alone all these times... A few moments later found her rummaging in a storage chest, filling the pockets of the green overalls she wore with various alchemical knick-knacks and collecting a backpack full of food and supplies. After all, she told herself as she made her final preparations, it's easier to look for someone when two people are doing the searching. Besides, the house could look after itself for a few months. She was well on her way down the street by the time the Guardsman, having made some inquiries and tracked Davin back to his home, pounded on the door. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "What *IS* this?!" Davin snarled as he smashed his way past another luckless Guard. "There's no way word would have gotten this far ahead of us!" "They've got... radio units in each... guardpost now," Marcine panted. "I thought small-scale radios were still under development!" "Well... there's been some... impressive breakthroughs..." He shook his head. "Save your breath. You'll need it." "HALT!" Davin skidded to a stop as no less than a full score of Guardsmen lined the street ahead of them. Most had the standard pikes, but a few officers had blunderbusses, and looked like they knew how to use them. "Oh, come ON!" Davin complained to the universe in general. "Is this *really* necessary?!" There was no way he could beat this many Guards. Not and still protect Marcine. He backed up, hand clenched around the hilt of his sword, as the Guards advanced toward him. A faint voice cut through the tense silence. "...untamed ferocity, drawn from the limitless skies above!" Marcine stepped bravely forward, sparks leaping from her hands. "Dibolt!" The thick, brilliant lightning burst arced through the air and struck the closest Guard, then quickly jumped to the next, then the next, until all were touched by the magic blast. They fell to the ground en masse, most still twitching uncontrollably. Davin blinked. "Whoah. I'm impressed." The wizardess blushed faintly. "I didn't... *just* learn Cure spells from that book." They picked their way around the groaning heap and raced down the street again. "I don't suppose you've got more of those up your sleeve?" Davin asked Marcine. She shook her head. "Maybe... one. Too... tiring." "Fair enough. Well, we're almost there. Just... uh-oh." Word had indeed gotten out about the fugitives' abilities. As they approached a crossroads, two of the exits were blocked off by a line of Guards, each wielding black powder weapons. "Damn it," Davin growled, "I thought there were fewer people around here. They had to clear the area so they could use the guns!" He quickly pulled Marcine down the fourth street, but soon encountered a similar situation, and was forced to take the only available exit before the guards could draw a bead on them. Two more sets of barricades later left him scowling. "Davin..." "I know." "We're being... *herded*." "I know! They're trying to get us down here rather than risk their own necks in an up-front battle. But at least we're heading roughly in the right direction. All we can do now is follow their lead." The Guard-lined route eventually came to an end in a broad courtyard, all entrances to which had been blocked off with tall barriers built of wood and metal. Even as the fugitives drew to a stop, another barrier was moved into the street they had entered through, closing off their escape. The only notable feature of the courtyard was the large, misshapen lump of metal set in the middle of it. Davin ignored it as he watched the rooftops of the surrounding buildings for archers. "Well," he said reluctantly, "I guess it ends here. We almost made it, too." Marcine didn't reply, and he gripped his sword tightly. "But I'll be damned if I don't take a few of 'em down with us." When Marcine still didn't answer, he turned to look at her, then followed her nervous gaze to the lump of metal. "What? It's just some junk someone left here." She shook her head. "No, it's not." He frowned. "Come on, we've got more important things to worry about than-" A creak of metal stopped him in mid-sentence, and his gaze returned to the 'junk'. Which had begun to move. As it extended four insect-like legs and a viciously-fanged opening that could only be called a mouth, Marcine backed up, her face becoming even more pale. "It's... it's a GOLeM." Davin started to retreat a bit as well - the thing stood two stories tall at this point. "A what?" "A GOLeM. It's designed specifically to fight and kill wizards," she explained in a tightly-controlled monotone. "Fireproof and shockproof defenses, internal electric battery, three-inch-thick armor plates, able to bite a steamcar in two." Davin looked at her, and she gave a slight shrug. "Father liked to talk about his work at the dinner table." "Uh-huh. So, in other words, your spells won't work?" "I'm afraid not." Then the time for talking was over. The GOLeM lurched forward, seeming bulky and awkward but possessing an unstoppable strength. It jabbed a leg forward in a spearing motion, forcing the two fugitives to dive aside or be crushed. Davin got back to his feet quickly, and only just managed to dodge another deadly attack. As splinters of broken cobblestones flew up from the leg's point of impact, he swung his sword in a quick arc... but was only rewarded by a minor cut in the GOLeM's armor. Totally failing to notice the scratch, it pulled the limb back and brought another around in a deceptively slow sweeping motion - its target was unable to evade the huge leg, and Davin was knocked back against a wall with tremendous force. He pulled himself to his feet again, one hand holding his side in pain. He'd distinctly felt ribs snapping from the impact. The GOLeM advanced toward him, shattering the stones underfoot with each step, its joints creaking and screaming with the sound of metal under stress. Davin raised his sword defiantly, though at this point he was at a loss as to what he could do with it... Suddenly the monstrous device flinched slightly as a jolt of electricity coursed over its form. It turned, and the thick glass plates which seemed to serve as its eyes were focused on Marcine. The young wizardess blanched under the GOLeM's stare, and she quickly backed up as the killing machine thundered forward. She cried out in panic as a spear-like limb plunged into the cobblestones just before her, and she turned to run. But, as slow and ponderous as the GOLeM was, the plain fact of the matter was that there was absolutely nowhere to hide. The courtyard was effectively sealed off, and while there were several buildings with doors facing the plaza, these had been securely boarded up by the Guardsmen. There was no escape. Marcine's heart pounded in fear as she found herself backed into a corner, the GOLeM advancing toward her with single-minded menace. It aimed a leg at her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting the finishing strike. An angry yell made her open them again, and she saw Davin leap in one athletic bound up to the GOLeM's back. Ignoring the intense pain he felt as best he could, he stood on the creature's shoulders, held his sword high, and plunged the razor sharp blade into the base of its neck, where the armor was thinnest to allow for movement. This would certainly have inconvenienced a living being. Under the circumstances, however, all it produced was a spray of oil and an electric shock as the sword severed some minor wiring. As the GOLeM staggered back, its stabilizers temporarily uncertain, Davin lost his grip on the sword and fell heavily to the ground below. "Davin!" While Davin slowly stood up again, Marcine rushed to his side. A quick chant sent green streamers of light from her fingers to the young man's battered form, and he gasped in surprise as his wounds suddenly vanished as if they'd never been. "Thanks." They watched the GOLeM warily as it stumbled with ever-growing surety. "What was with the lightning spell back there? I thought you said it was shockproof." She blushed. "I just... acted on instinct. I couldn't let it kill you." Davin shook his head. "Well, I appreciate the thought, but it's pretty much a moot point. No *way* we can get past this thing, especially since your magic won't work." There was a long pause, the silence broken by the piercing creaks of the GOLeM's joints. "...well, *actually*..." The mechanical beast, having fully compensated for the damage, tested its footing and started forward again before Davin turned and looked at the young mage. "You mean you *do* have something that'll work?" "It... it might. But I can't use it." "Why *not*?!" "It's a horrible, horrible sin!" she wailed. "I couldn't possibly use it, ever!" *Then why did you learn it?* Aloud, Davin said, "Marcine, I know you're going through a religious crisis here, but in about ten seconds we're going to either be smeared across the street or captured and frozen in stone for all eternity." As if to punctuate his point, the GOLeM drew to a stop, watching its prey for sudden movements. "Right now, you have to ask yourself what side of the line you're on. Do you accept your fate, or fight it?" "I..." She suddenly realized that she was holding her golden Tri-Fan pendant, and looked down at it as if she could find the answer to that question in its smooth surface. What she saw must have decided her, for she pulled the necklace off in one fierce motion and let it fall to the ground. "Can you hold it off for a little bit? This will take some time." Davin frowned and looked down at the cobblestones beneath them. There wouldn't be any earth spirits within them to draw power from - such beings hated change, and would have fled when the stones were laid down. But the courtyard was old, and would have attracted another type of spirit... "I think so. But make it fast." She nodded, and as he turned toward the GOLeM, she removed her hat and pulled a small object from a hidden pocket in its tip. It was a glass sphere, three inches across, filled with a roiling dark green mist. This would be difficult, after the spells she'd used earlier - she didn't have much strength left. But she had to try, whatever the cost. She closed her eyes and concentrated, drawing her power together. Meanwhile, Davin knelt down and pressed his palm against the street. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for, and though they were in a panic from the unnatural creature above them, the city spirits dwelling within the cobblestones were more than eager to lend what aid they could. He stood up, his left hand made of smooth stones of innumerable shapes, and extended it toward the GOLeM. Behind him, an unfelt wind picked at Marcine's clothes and hair as she began to chant. "From thy eternal slumber, I call to thee..." "Elf Fire!" Ethereal bursts of flame lanced out from Davin's hand, darting to the GOLeM and burning against its armor with no need or concern for fuel. These were the spirits of the city, embodied in the ultimate source of civilization. "...Guardian of the Sea, Guardian of the Tides, I conjure thee..." The globe in Marcine's fingers had begun to glow, and a small flame began to dance within the mist. Though the killing machine's armor was indeed fireproof, a flame managed to find the oil-soaked aperture that Davin's previous attack had created. An explosion soon followed, driving the metal beast to its knees. "Hear me, Leviathan! Hear me, Serpent of the Waves! In the name of the Manakyr, I summon thee!" Davin's sword fell nearby, knocked free by the explosion, and he retrieved it just as the GOLeM regained its footing. Though it had no face to register emotion, one could easily imagine pure anger in its stance as it advanced toward the elementalist once again. The flame within the sphere grew ever brighter, and Marcine's voice rose to a shout. "Let the power that crushes mountains to sand bring utter defeat to those that defy you!" Davin dodged back as the GOLeM stabbed at him, but failed to notice the hole already dug in the street by the monster's footsteps. He fell to the ground, and the machine prepared to end the fight in a very final way. Marcine thrust her hands out, and the glass sphere shattered, the fire within splitting apart and escaping into the sky. "Tsunami!" As Davin helplessly watched the massive device raise its leg to crush him, he felt a sudden lightness about himself, and looked down in surprise to see himself fade from view. By the time the GOLeM's limb smashed against the street, both he and Marcine had vanished, whisked to safety by the power of the wizardess' spell. The mages of the Manakyr had long ago realized the wisdom of not being around when Leviathan arrived. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- It started as a deluge. Rainclouds appeared from nowhere and unleashed a torrent, flooding the courtyard with water several feet deep. The rain stopped as quickly as it had started, and it was deceptively calm for a moment. Then it arrived. Woken from untold centuries of dormancy, rising from water that was somehow shallow yet at the same time immeasurable fathoms deep, Leviathan leapt up and hung in the air, light reflecting off each iridescent scale. It was a sea- serpent in the most literal sense, at least a hundred feet in length and seemingly made of blue-green water. (Standing at a window in the Cavanaugh mansion, Commander Armand watched the titanic beast arise, his face a stony, unmoving mask.) The GOLeM opened its jaw wide in defiance, its primitive programming only able to recognize the massive serpent as a potential target. Leviathan, however, was having none of it. With an ear- piercing screech, the serpent rose up further into the sky until it was hovering high above the GOLeM. As Leviathan began to fly in tight circles, its speed growing ever faster, a shimmering portal began to form within its path. In an instant, Leviathan vanished back to where it came, and the portal opened to allow an unstoppable waterfall, drawn from the depths of the ocean, to thunder down onto the luckless monstrosity. The immense force proved too much to bear, and the GOLeM was broken to pieces by the power of Leviathan's wrath. As the magic began to fade, the summoned water faded as well, and when Marcine and Davin reappeared, they were met with a shattered GOLeM, and a hint of sea breeze in the air that swiftly dispersed. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Davin was amazed. He'd never even *heard* of something like that. "Marcine, what the heck did you do?" "'t wuzza... Calling..." She started to fall forward, and he quickly caught her. "Marcine, are you okay?" The wizardess giggled groggily. "'M a bad girl... Ver' bad..." "Marcine?" "...nh..." She was out like a light. "Good work, Marcine," he said softly, "but I don't think we can rest quite yet." "What the...?" Davin looked around, to see several Guards peering over the barricades. "They wrecked the GOLeM!" "Let's get 'em!" "But... what if she does that again?" "She's unconscious!" "CHARGE!" Davin rolled his eyes. "Not again..." Scooping Marcine up into his arms, carrying her protectively before him, he ran to a barrier that had been knocked over by one leg of the dismembered GOLeM, and made his escape while the Guards were trying to get over their own barricades. This time, there wasn't any resistance - the Guards had been sure that the GOLeM would take care of the matter for them - and Davin made it out the front gate of Tienne before serious pursuit could be arranged. Two figures, lounging at a table outside a rather grungy bar, watched him leave. "Well, there goes Davin," one commented calmly. "Looks like he found something more interesting than guard duty," his companion observed. Wedge leered. "From the looks of that girl he was carryin', I don't blame him. Well, no point in hangin' around here. We got work to do." "That we do." Biggs stood up and stretched. "Think we'll see him again?" "How the hell should I know? Maybe." "I hope we do." They watched as a full three hundred Guardsmen ran toward the gate; most pulled up short, deciding that the fugitives were out of their jurisdiction now. "Yeah, me too." Wedge grinned nastily. "Anyone who can tick off the Church that much is my kinda guy." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Armand Cavanaugh stood at the same window, staring at the distant courtyard. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, who had summoned Leviathan. And knowing that dictated his next action... no matter how much it pained him. "You wanted to see me?" Armand didn't turn around. "I do. You are on full active duty as of now, and will be granted a temporary promotion to the rank of Captain. This promotion will be made permanent if you succeed at your first mission." His only reply was silence. Both parties knew what the mission would be, but the soldier was forcing his commander to state it explicitly. After an extended pause, Armand took a deep breath. "You are to seek out Marcine Cavanaugh and her accomplice, and bring them back to Tienne where they will face their full sentence." There was another pause. "She's your *daughter*." The voice was partly shocked, partly reproachful. Armand whirled around furiously. "Damn it, don't you think I KNOW that?! But by performing a Calling, Marcine has forced my hand!" He forced himself to calm down a bit. "To summon one of the Sleepers is the most unforgivable sin possible in the Church's eyes. She knew this, yet willingly defied everything this family stands for. I cannot ignore what she did - I cannot disobey the tenets of the Three Gods, even for my own daughter." He looked at the soldier. "That's why I want you to find her. This disgrace must be lifted from the Cavanaugh name... and it must be lifted by one of our own." When there was no response, Armand clenched his fist. "And still you choose to defy me. Then accept this duty as an *order*, from your commanding officer and from the High Priests themselves! Do you think you can manage it under *those* terms?" And Kyle Cavanaugh, now a Captain of the Dragoons, nodded stiffly. "I understand... Father. I'll do what I have to, in the name of the Church." He turned and walked toward the door, then stopped at the threshold. "But don't think I'll forgive you for this. Ever." Armand was left in silence as his son marched from the room, surrounded only by the spirits of his ancestors.