======================================================================= FINAL FANTASY LEGACY Knights of the Round Started by Brian Stricklin This chapter by The Eternal Lost Lurker Chapter Five: Toward Undiscovered Countries ======================================================================= Davin, Marcine, Syeira, and Mika stood in a tight defensive circle, observing the assassins surrounding them warily. A battle was unavoidable; the only two open paths were blocked off by their enemies. "Whatever happens, protect Mika," Davin whispered to Syeira, who nodded. Turning to Marcine, Davin instructed, "Hope you're up to some magic." Marcine nodded somewhat nervously. "End of the line, heretics," the lead assassin said, grease practically dripping from his voice. "You don't leave these woods alive." Davin slowly, deliberately drew his sword. "I disagree." Syeira drew a bead on the nearest assassin with the blunderbuss that had formerly belonged to Davin's friend Wedge. Mika reached into her pack, and pulled out a round grey ball. Marcine began chanting quietly. The assassins charged. Mika threw the object she held into the rear flank, and it exploded, blanketing the enemy in a cloud of smoke. The assassins continued their charge, but their attacks missed, their aim thrown off by the smokescreen. Unfortunately for the assassins, the thick veil did nothing to inhibit Syeira's aim; the nearest foe discovered that skulls aren't very resistant to lead projectiles. Davin, meanwhile, had gone toe-to-toe with the lead assassin, sparks flying as twin knives clashed against the geomancer's curved sword. The other two assassins were approaching Marcine with wicked intent. "...north wind, bring the chill of the winter storm...Ice!" Marcine chanted. The approaching assassins froze in their tracks...literally, as crystalline shards of flash-frozen moisture embedded themselves in their flesh. Mika's smokescreen began to fade, and Syeira cursed as a pair of shuriken thrown by one of the assassins bit into her abdomen. She dropped to her knees as a painful fire raced through her body. Mika was upon her instantly, inspecting the damage. "Poison," she murmured, and pulled a bottle out of her pack. "Drink this Antidote." Syeira smiled gratefully as Mika poured the medicine down the thief's throat. Plucking the poison-tipped throwing stars from her belly, Syeira got back to her feet, just in time to parry a sword thrust from one of the assassins with the barrel of her heavy firearm. Davin took advantage of a hole in his opponent's defense, and slashed deep into the assassin's thigh. The man went down, grasping his wounded appendage. Davin ended the unfortunate thug's life with a merciful blow to the neck. He looked up from his task in time to see the two slowly defrosting assassins begin to move again, and rushed them, slamming the nearest one backward with a shoulder. The killer went flying into his cohort, and Davin winced as the brittleness of frozen human flesh was graphically demonstrated. Syeira slammed the butt of the blunderbuss into the groin of her only remaining opponent, having already dropped the one with the sword. As the assassin crumpled, she drew her dagger and calmly slit his throat. Stretching, she turned to survey the rest of the group. "Yeesh, what a mess," she said. Mika looked at the six dead assassins with no small degree of horror. "We...just killed them all?" Davin knelt in front of Mika, and placed his hands on her shoulders. "They were going to kill us first, Mika. We had no choice." Mika's reply was cut off by slow, dramatic applause. "Well done," a voice drifted down from somewhere in the trees. Mika froze as she recognized that cold, sinister tone. "No..." she whispered. Davin looked around warily. "Show yourself," he demanded. "As you wish," the voice said, and a dark figure descended from the canopy of foliage. The heavily robed figure drew itself up to its full height, and the blank metal mask gleamed as it caught an errant twinkle of starlight. "You fight well against such trash," the stranger commented, "but you will not find me as easily bested." Davin and the others gasped as the figure's robes parted to reveal a curved sheath, from which the faceless stranger drew a sword whose blade was a disturbing, blood-red shade. "So, you must be Siegvin," Davin commented. Siegvin chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound. "I see the girl has been telling tales," he remarked. "Then you must also know that I mean to kill you." He paused. "If you surrender the witch, I may spare your lives...you will be free to flee and make new lives for yourself elsewhere. The choice is yours." "Go to hell," Davin replied. The tone of Siegvin's voice gave the impression that he was smiling coldly under his mask. "No, not today, I'm afraid. However, I shall be more than happy to send you in my stead." He raised his sword above his head, and swept it in a wide cross-slash, sending a wave of crimson energy toward the group. "Blood Wave!" Caught off-guard, the foursome dropped to their knees as their bodies became feverish. Marcine began chanting, face pale and breath ragged. Mika began rummaging through her satchel. Syeira struggled to aim the blunderbuss, which suddenly seemed too heavy to hold. Davin struggled to his knees, glaring defiantly at Siegvin as he assumed a defensive stance. A chill wind blew through the clearing, and Davin's glare changed to a smirk. Reaching out with his left hand and grasping at the air, he began chanting, "Blade of wind, shear the threads that bind spirit and flesh!" His left arm became translucent as he spoke, finally assuming the characteristics of a miniature windstorm as he thrust his hand in Siegvin's direction. "Kamaitachi!" Siegvin grunted in surprise as several sharp blasts of wind bit into his flesh, driving him back a few steps. Behind Davin, Marcine quietly finished a chant, ending with the spell word, "Esuna." The fever left the bodies of the foursome, and they slowly rose to the feet, regaining their strength. Shooting Marcine a thankful glance, Davin charged toward their adversary, sword at the ready. Siegvin recovered from the elemental assault just in time to parry Davin's slash, and the two engaged in a brief example of skillful swordplay. Slashes, parries, and thrusts sent sparks flying into the night air. The engagement ended as Davin parried a slash, and Siegvin's sword flared suddenly with purple light. Davin found himself flying backward, coming to a halt as Marcine and Syeira managed to catch him, struggling to keep their own balance. The masked warrior raised his now-purple sword, and intoned coldly, "Gravity Wave." The sword flared, giving off waves of dark energy. The group suddenly found their gear--not to mention their own bodies--unbearably heavy, and struggled to keep from falling to the ground. The pain and fatigue of battle took their toll tenfold, and it was all Marcine, Davin, and Mika could do to keep from blacking out. Syeira, on the other hand, was overcome with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Dropping the blunderbuss, she stood, defiant of the heaviness of her own body as she made several complicated motions with her dagger, a blinding golden aura flaring around her. "SHADOW KNIVES!" she boomed. A pair of daggers, identical to her own yet seemingly insubstantial, sped toward Siegvin, crossing each others' paths as they rose out of the ground. Siegvin attempted to block them with his sword, but they phased through it, and struck his mask. "AUGH!" Siegvin roared, as a glimmer of metal flew away into the night. Drawing his robes around his head, he called out, "We *will* meet again," before departing into the depths of the forest. "Nice work, Syeira," Davin said. The thief blushed a little at the compliment, and Marcine, unnoticed by either, frowned a bit. The heaviness gradually wore away from the foursome, but their fatigue did not. "Let's...all rest, and we can decide what to do next in the morning," Davin said. There were no arguments as the group settled down for some much-needed sleep. ****** Armand Cavanaugh was not a happy man. "So let me get this straight," he asked, as he walked around his son. "You allowed one small child and one seemingly unarmed female to escape the castle unchallenged?" Kyle shifted uncomfortably. "I was not aware of the woman's presence until she..." "Until she...*tripped* you." Kyle had the grace to look sheepish. "Yes." "And you did not call for the guards?" Armand asked, raising an eyebrow. Kyle frowned. "It would have done no good. Every guard in the castle was asleep. Including yourself, sir..." He winced as he realized he should not have added the last. The high commander of the Holy Guard bristled. "You will take fifteen men, and no fewer, to search for the escapees *and* the fugitives," he said, "and you will not return to Tienne until you have all of them in your custody." "Understood," Kyle said, offering a salute as he turned and left to gather his men. ****** Dawn found Davin, Marcine, Mika, and Syeira breaking camp and climbing onto the chocobos. "So we're headed for Achal now?" Mika asked. Davin nodded. "Right. We should be able to get there before they can organize another search party to come after us. From there, we'll decide our next move." As the four began the swift, birdback ride, Davin noticed that Marcine looked upset. "Is something wrong, Marcine?" he asked. The mage sighed, sniffling a bit. "No, nothing, just reminding myself that I can add cryomancy to my list of sins now..." Davin frowned. "Marcine, stop this. You can't let the beliefs of the Church control you. You know that magic can be used for good..." "But...it's what I was raised to believe," Marcine said. "How do you go against a lifetime of beliefs just like that?" Silence reigned for a long time. ****** The sixteen-man party met in a war room off the side of the main hall of Ti enne Castle. "They will not head for Achal again," one of the more strategically-minded members of the group surmised. "That would be the first place we would look." "Where do you suggest, then?" Kyle asked. The man pointed to a spot on the large map spread out before them. "There. Atlantea, to the west." "That makes sense," another man said. "Wot with the gel's bein' a witch an' all..." Kyle cut the man off with a sharp glance. After taking a moment to calm himself, he nodded. "It is rumored that there is an underground mage cult operating out of Atlantea, though it's never been confirmed." "And, it's less than two days' ride from here," the tactician pointed out. "Closer than Achal, and the terrain is less rugged. After all," he noted, "a group of people on the run..." "...is likely to seek the path of least resistance, to put as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as possible," Kyle finished from rote. "Alright, then...be ready to leave in half an hour. Dismissed." The men ran off to gather their gear, and Kyle sighed. *Dammit, Marcine...why are you making this so difficult?* ****** With a little luck, and the ruggedness of their mounts, the band of refugees had made their way to Achal a half day earlier than expected. "Wow, this place is beautiful," Marcine said in quiet awe as she surveyed the peaceful village. Calling Achal a village was actually understating things a bit. Nestled in a large valley in the northern mountains, through which a wide stream--not wide enough to be called a river, but more than adequate for a steady water supply--flowed, the town of Achal sprawled before them, a tribute to a simplistic way of life. The buildings were very earthy, made of roughly-hewn grey stone and sporting thatched roofs. Smoke wafted cheerily from the occasional chimney. The layout clearly suggested that the founders had been from a city such as Tienne. The well-kept dirt roads neatly intersected at right angles and larger buildings sported dim, dusty alleywa ys between them. Nevertheless, the overall feel of Achal was that of a rustic old village. "The place has built up a bit since I was last here," Davin commented. "You've been here before, big brother?" Mika asked. Davin smiled. "Once or twice." Taking a moment to check his gear, he continued, "We should check into the inn, then do a bit of shopping. If we're gonna be on the road for a while, we'll need plenty of food, water, medicines..." He paused, rubbing his chin as he surveyed his former mount speculatively. "And some fresh greens for these guys." "Wark!" the chocobo offered happily. Davin chuckled, and ruffled the bird's feathers a bit. Syeira grinned. "I take it you're starting to get used to them." Everyone shared a laugh as they made their way down the main road, headed for the local inn. ****** "Hiiii Davin!" cooed several very attractive--and *very* scantily-clad--young ladies from a balcony of the building next door to the inn. The girls blew kisses at Davin, and giggled. Marcine arched an eyebrow, and fixed Davin with a peculiar stare. "Friends of yours?" she inquired, perhaps a bit too sweetly. "Aheh..." Davin replied sheepishly. "Let's just keep moving, shall we?" Marcine smirked, Syeira rolled her eyes, and Mika giggled as they made their way into the inn. ****** A lone figure crept stealthily along the mountain path, noting the clawed tracks in the dust. "So...tis truly this way the brigands have sojourned," he mused to himself. "Mayhaps this task shall prove easier than expected." ****** Twilight found Davin, Marcine, Syeira, and Mika gathered around a wooden table in their room at the inn. The innkeeper had provided a rich stew that was the house specialty, along with chunks of crusty bread and hard cheese, and fresh, clear water from the nearby stream. "What I don't get," Mika piped up, "is how come Father Lambert hired that Siegvin guy, and he uses magic." "I wondered that myself," Davin said around a mouthful of stew-soaked bread. Marcine frowned and shook her head. "That wasn't magic," she informed them. "You sure about that?" Syeira asked. "Trust me," Marcine replied. "I'd know." Davin nodded. "You are the expert on magic here," he agreed. "So if it wasn't magic, then..." "Maybe it was geomancy?" Mika wondered. "Like you do, big brother?" Davin shook his head. "I've never seen any geomancy like that. Besides, I didn't see him draw from any spirits. Just that sword..." "What was up with that sword, anyway?" Syeira asked. "It sure looked a lot like yours, Davin." "I noticed that too," Davin said, pausing for a drink of water. "But...no, I don't know how I know this, but...I'm almost certain it wasn't one of my family's swords." He frowned. "I don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure none of them had blades that changed color like that. Or did anything else unusual," he added. "So what we have here," Syeira mused, "is a creepy guy in a metal mask, with a weird sword and some kind of tricks none of us can understand, who's probably going to try to kill us everywhere we go?" "That about sums it up," Davin said. Syeira seemed about to say something to that, then shrugged, and began gnawing on a sizeable hunk of cheese. Marcine sighed. "I never should have gotten you mixed up in this. Any of you. I'm so sorry." Davin patted her on the shoulder. "Marcine...it's like I said before. I'm in this because I don't want to see someone punished for doing the right thing. Don't worry about it." He smiled. "Besides, something tells me that somewhere down the road, something big is going to happen..." "An adventure!" Mika chirped happily. "Right, a big adventure," Syeira said, chuckling. After a moment, Marcine began to share in the mirth. "I guess it could be exciting, traveling, seeing new places, meeting new people..." "That's the spirit!" Davin said. The conversation began to turn toward more pleasant things as the meal was concluded, and soon, the lamp was extinguished, and four weary travelers settled down for a good night's rest. ****** In the alley behind the inn, perched on a crate, a lone figure peered through the window leading to the four fugitives' room. "And lo, there they sleep," he mused. "The foolish brigands know not the fate which awaits them." The unseen observer was a rather large man, garbed in rather standard assassin's clothes; a pair of soft breeches, doeskin boots and gloves, a sleeveless tunic, and a blood-red cloak. He swept his cloak back dramatically, revealing a tattoo on his right arm which depicted a moogle that seemed to have one eyebrow raised. Drawing a narrow, razor-sharp rapier from the sheath hanging at his hip, the assassin continued his monologue. "Think they that they can escape the Citizens' justice with such ease? Alas, the brigands are sorely mistaken, for Stine shall deliver the smite upon them this night." Out of the corner of his eye, the rather peculiar man noticed movement deeper in the alley. A small lantern peeled back the shadows, and a squat green creature, garbed in tattered burlap robes, shambled toward him, lantern held in one scaly hand, a kitchen knife in the other. The assassin raised an eyebrow. "Dost thou dare approach Stine with a weapon without announcing thyself, uncouth brigand? What manner of foul beast art thou?" The creature made no effort to respond, simply shambling a few steps closer. The large man carried on, heedless. "It matters not what manner of foul beast thou art! For any man or creature foolish enough to have at Stine with such an insignificant weapon shall perish, with thine own blade buried in the recesses of thine confected bowels!" The stumpy green creature simply stared at him for a long moment. Finally, in a dry, raspy voice that might remind one of an old tomb being opened, it spoke. "Doink." As Stine fell twitching to the ground, the Tonberry continued on its merry way, shambling off into the night. ****** In a cold, dark stone room, lit only by the flame of a small forge, a figure obscured in darkness hammered away at a piece of metal. "This hunt may prove more interesting than I had thought," the figure rasped. "I may have to spend some time toying with them, to amuse myself while I wait for certain...aspects of my plans to reach fruition." The dim firelight flickered briefly, and for a moment, the shadows waned. Had anyone been present to witness, they would have seen a harsh mouth turn upwards into a small, evil smile. "Still...I can't afford to be careless. I was a fool to let my guard down as I did. That will not do, no." The clang of metal on metal ceased, and the figure groped for a bit of cloth lying nearby. Taking a moment to polish the item he had been hammering, he slowly raised it toward his face. The well-polished metal gleamed in the light of the fire, and only the man holding the mask would have been able to see the reflected image of a horrible burn scar across his face. At least, he would have, had not the aged scar seared his eyes shut. "Everything is proceeding nicely, and once the witch is in my grasp, not even that bloated fool Lambert..." Carefully attaching the mask to his face, the man waved his hand at the forge, extinguishing it. Moments later, a door opened to the outside, letting in faint starlight, and Siegvin strode out into the world. "...will be able to stand in my way," he continued, the chilling, ominous tone once again entering his voice as his laughter rang out in the chill night air. ****** AUTHOR'S NOTES: Whee, that was fun. ^_^ Thanks go out to everyone who preread for me, and to Brian Stricklin especially, for creating this wonderful series. (And for knocking a bit of sense into me...^_^) I tried to set up some future angles for future authors; I hope I've succeeded in giving the next few in the queue something to work with. A note on Stine: Obviously, Stine is a knockoff of The Rock. "Stine" is a play on the German word for stone. Please, *please* don't overdo the Rock aspects of Stine, or change his speech patterns from archaic to modern. He's supposed to be a comedy relief villain a la Ultros, patterned on The Rock, not a WWF-insert. And yes, Syeira's 'Shadow Knives' is a Limit Break. Just because we're harking back to the more sword-and-sorcery formula of older FF games, doesn't mean we have to nix one of the cooler aspects of FF7-8. ^_^