He descended.

	The narrow staircase hidden in the very heart of the
Church drew him inexorably onwards.  With each step, he felt
as though the ceiling might collapse, closing on him like
the mouth of some fearsome beast that had lain for countless
centuries beneath the city, slumbering.  He was no coward,
but every fiber of his being was screaming to escape from
this place... this crypt.

	He walked onward, dutifully trailing the obese
silhouette that was the High Priest.  He was a soldier.

	Even a soldier occasionally questioned.  "Father
Lambert..."  His voice trailed off, briefly uncertain how to
continue.  "This... what is this?"

	"I didn't order you to come with me so you could
question me, Armand.  That is not your place."  Lambert's
voice carried no heat, despite the reproof; he had a
distracted air about him.  Armand thought he understood; his
own mind kept conjuring images of the battle in the square
above.  He would be fighting, and probably dying, there,
along with his men, if not for the priest's command.  "But I
suppose it doesn't matter now.  This is the greatest secret
of the Church, kept secret from all save the High Priests
until now.  And it may be our last resort."

	Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lambert drew to a
halt so quickly that Armand nearly walked into his back. 
Only then did the Lord Commander of the Dragoons see what
had drawn Lambert's attention.  "Is that...?"

	"Its name was Gilgamesh," Lambert absently replied,
producing a medallion from within the folds of his robe. 
"But now it's merely a sword for the Church to wield."

	"So."  The third voice was soft and sibilant, and it
came from no one location, but out of the air all around
them.  Lambert's eyes widened; Armand's sword had already
cleared its scabbard, and the dragoon was slowly turning,
attempting to keep his eye on as much of the room at once as
he possibly could.  "This is indeed Gilgamesh.  I had
wondered... he seems so much... lesser... than when I last
felt his presence."

	At the far side of the half-buried, rusted helmet, the
flickering shadows thrown by Lambert's light began to sway
and flow together, tendrils thrusting upward into the air to
trace a dark, undifferentiated figure.  It solidified
slowly, almost lazily, and the remainder of the room seemed
to grow progressively brighter and warmer, in contrast to
its form.

	Armand cautiously moved to place himself between
Lambert and this apparition.  The priest's eyes narrowed,
his lip twisted into a snarl.

	"So this is what passes for a high priest of the
Church," said Darovan, becoming fully visible at last.  "A
fat old man.  Well, I suppose vengeance must begin
somewhere."  He threw back his head and laughed -- wildly,
hysterically.  "And how fortunate to be able to deal with my
old 'friend' and a high priest at the same time!  But first,
tell me... what might this be?"

	Armand was merely puzzled by the small green crystal
the resurrected mage held in his palm.  But a strangled
sound drew his attention to Lambert.  Out of the corner of
one eye, he could see that the color had completely drained
from the priest's face.

	"Important, then."  Darovan smiled, a chill, cruel
expression.

	"Fierce power of nature," Lambert intoned, his voice
shaking perceptibly, "absolute raw anger of the heavens,
unleash destruction upon all infidels!  TriBolt!"

	The ancient mage stared as the electrical energy
gathered by the spell speared toward him.  Then with another
high-pitched tittering laugh, he contemptuously swatted the
lightning bolt away with the back of his hand, deflecting it
into the far wall.  "How pathetic..."  Armand shivered as
the sorcerer's bloodshot eyes and maniacal grin swept over
him, then fixed on Lambert.  "I am no longer what I was, you
see..."

======================================================

FINAL FANTASY LEGACY
Knights of the Round

Started by Brian Stricklin

This chapter by Scott Schimmel 
Chapter Thirty-Six: Duty and Honor

======================================================

	"Now what?"

	Davin looked into the plaza, shuddered, and drew back
into the shadow of the alley.  "We've done pretty well at
sneaking past patrols, but somehow I don't think Shizuka
could get through that, let alone us."  What had once been a
wide expanse of cobblestone was now a stretch of broken and
cratered land littered with bodies.  Dozens of men moved in
groups of two and three, fighting with sword, spear, and
spells.  Among them, several towering metal GOLeMs and a
similar number of the vicious Atma Beasts tore bloody
swathes of destruction through the ranks of both sides in
their mutual quest to confront each other.  "Are you sure
this is the right way?"

	Marcine nodded.  "It's very close... I can't explain
it, but I feel it nearby.  It just... became clear, all of a
sudden."

	"Please wait a moment.  This one will investigate." 
Davin turned to stop her, but Shizuka was already on her
way, somehow scaling the sheer wall of the damaged building
behind which they sheltered.  A moment later, she
disappeared onto the roof, keeping herself low and creeping
forward.

	Mika rolled her eyes.  "She's kind of impulsive, huh?" 
Davin exchanged a glance with Marcine and wisely refrained
from comment.

	Shortly, Shizuka returned, dropping easily from the
roof to land beside the others.  "There is an opening in the
ground," she reported.  "Toward the center.  This one
believes it may be reached safely, with the right timing."

	"An opening?"

	Marcine slowly nodded.  "I think that's it.  Tell us
when, Shizuka..."

	"Follow as closely as you can, then.  This one will
attempt to open the way, but it will probably require more
than her own abilities in order to succeed."  Flattening
herself against the wall, she carefully peered around the
corner, observing the chaotic flow of battle.  "Season upon
season, quell life with crystal tears... Frost!"  In the
wake of her words, a cone of glittering diamond swept into
the courtyard, its supernatural chill laying low any of the
fighters unfortunate enough to be within its range.  But
rather than wait to observe its effects, the Ryukin girl
sprinted behind the wedge of frost.

	The others followed closely behind.  Gasping with the
exertion of running, Mika flung a vial behind her and to one
side.  The resulting explosion deterred a trio of dragoons
from pursuing them.

	"Fury of mother earth, tremble and explode!  Quake!"  A
second explosion followed Marcine's hasty chant, throwing a
small contingent of Manakyr off their feet before they could
finish framing their own attacks.

	"Ancient spirits within the halls of man, burn with
life unchanging since the start of time!  Elf Fire!" 
Despite their efforts, though, the other combatants were
beginning to close in, less intentionally than as a result
of the sheer chaos of the battlefield.  Beside them, a Atma
Beast landed from a prodigious leap, but before it could
attack, or the group react, it found itself wrestling a
GOLeM.

	"A little further," Shizuka urged, and immediately
returned to spellcasting.  "Wrath of the storm, rend the
sky... Blitz!"

	"Mika," Davin called.  "How about some smoke?  Ahead
and to the left..."

	The young chemist glanced where Davin had directed and
nodded.  Three small spheres arced overhead, and billowing
clouds of greasy black smoke began to issue forth, obscuring
and further confusing the battle.

	And then they stood at the edge of the hole, a gaping
chasm that looked as though the earth itself had expelled
from its depths some monstrous horror which it could not
bear to hold.  Close behind them, one of the mages was
chanting a spell, but they didn't spare the time to look
around to see whether or not they were its intended targets. 
The four of them ran forward, over the rubble that
surrounded the gaping crevice, and then leapt into the
darkness.

	They fell what seemed a long way before Marcine
finished her own incantation, and the air whistling past
their ears became still as they drifted gently like so many
puffs of down.  They touched ground not long afterward,
finding themselves in the middle of a dark passageway.

	"Which direction?" Davin asked.  Marcine started to
answer, until there was a loud cry from their right.  "Let
me guess.  That way."  She nodded, spreading her hands in a
helpless gesture.  "Why is it always the way with the
biggest explosions?"

	"Because when something important is happening, there's
always an explosion, so when it's really really important,
you get a huge explosion."

	"...Thanks, Mika."

	The chemist gave him a thumbs-up.  "No problem, big
brother.  Let's go!"

	"Carefully," Marcine suggested.  Still, the four moved
with more haste than caution, heading toward the Grand
Cathedral.  The sounds of a fight became more distinct with
each step, and voices began to be more clearly audible...

	"Father!" Marcine gasped.

	Armand's eyes flicked to the side for a moment,
distracted by Marcine's appearance, and for a moment his
incredulous gaze met hers.  Then his expression hardened, as
he turned to keep both Darovan and his daughter within his
line of vision.  "So," he said wearily, "it was true after
all..."

	"True?  What was...?"  Her words died in her throat as
she stepped into the room and beheld for the first time the
ancient mage.

	Lambert spared a moment from his mystic duel to snarl
at Marcine.  "All the heretics together, it seems."  Raising
his left hand, he chanted a TriBolt spell, hurling a bolt of
lightning toward her.

	"Magic..."  Caught by surprise, Marcine stood rooted to
the spot.

	Suddenly, Davin stood in front of her, parrying the
electrical blast with a desperate lunge of his blade. 
"Marcine!  Are you all right?"

	"Magic," she repeated.  "All these years, they said...
but he..."

	"It's true, my dear," said Darovan.  The smile on his
face was probably meant to reassure, but it was an unnerving
expression.  "They are magicians; they always have been. 
The difference between us is that they wanted to keep the
power to themselves.  I want to share it.  They spread lies
about me, relentlessly hounded those who felt as I did,
finally trapped me, like so many others.  All because they
wanted control, and--"  He cried out in agony, whirling.

	Armand stood firm in the face of the magician's wrath,
raising his crimson-stained blade for another strike. 
"Lies!  You're a madman..."  Steel flashed.

	Darovan caught the sword in his hand and turned, using
it as a lever to fling Armand across the room.  "You see?"
he said pleasantly to Marcine, as though nothing had
happened.  "Nothing has changed among them.  But we could
change things, you and I.  We could end the persecution of
our kind... show the world the benefits of True Magick. 
Come with me."  It was half plea, half command.  "Come with
me, my Legacy..."

	"Source of all life, bend your will toward destruction! 
Flood!"  Darovan fell back beneath the sudden onslaught of
pounding water, and the ninja added, "She believes he may
have attempted to magically influence your mind."

	"Another heretic..." Lambert paused briefly.  "Ah...
you're from those demon-ruled islands that refuse the
healing light of the Church.  Well, young demon-spawn,
you're in our land now..."

	Darovan, surrounded by a shimmering aura of
greenish-blue light, laughed, revealed as the wave washed
past him.  "Very good, child.  That's no magic like I've
ever seen.  But it is a mere annoyance.  This is power."  He
pointed.  "Aurora, exhale bloody air, call forth your
tainted light!  Shadow Flare!"

	The young girl dove to the side, beginning to roll, but
there was no escaping the effect of the relentless spell. 
She screamed in pain as the black cloud of motes struck,
then exploded from within.  Mika, too, cried out, fumbling
with a pouch as she hurried toward the fallen girl's side.

	Lambert calmly took advantage of Darovan's momentary
distraction to launch another attack of his own.  "God's
wrath upon the sinful, manifest!  TriFire!"

	The gout of flame spattered against the mage's aura of
light, then broke through with a crash, bathing him briefly
in the spell's intense heat.  It seemed to anger him more
than it hurt.  "You shall suffer for that," he promised.

	"Flames of the earth, fire of the sun, lend your energy
to become an inferno... the perfect blaze!  TriFire!"  But
this time, Darovan managed to block the spell, conjuring a
massive crystal of ice between him and the flame.

	"I need no help from heretics," Lambert sneered. 
"Untainted light, enter my hand and grant me your
all-embracing purity... Holy!"

	As Lambert spoke, so too did Darovan.  "Trapped in the
moment, reverse the course of mana.  Reflect!"  The burst of
pearl energy seemed to strike an invisible wall in front of
Marcine and hang motionless in the air for a brief moment. 
Then it rocketed back toward the priest.

	Who only stood in place, his arms outstretched as
though to meet it.  And when the flash of light had faded,
Lambert remained, unmarked -- if anything, stronger than
before.

	"Why...?" Marcine murmured, glancing toward the ancient
mage.

	Apparently he heard.  "You are blood of my blood.  Your
place is with me."

	"No... no!  I'd never--"

	"Never is a strong word, child.  You'll come to
understand, in time--"  He was cut off by a burst of
lightning.  "Persistent old man."

==========

	Davin warily circled, sword held at guard.  His blade
was longer by a foot than his opponent's, but he was
hindered by his efforts to stay between Armand and the
battle.

	"I recognize you," the dragoon muttered to himself. 
"When have I seen you...?  He darted in, cutting a
horizontal arc toward Davin's waist, and the clash of metal
on metal rung out.

	Jumping back from a thrust, the geomancer returned the
assault in kind.  "Have you killed so many people that you
can't remember them all?"

	He pushed forward, stabbing, but the dragoon's whirling
blade was as good as any shield, and he soon found himself
back on the defensive as heavy blows rained down upon his
sword.  "You seem rather solid, for a ghost."  A thin line
of fire burned Davin's upper arm as a stroke slipped
through.  "And you bleed as well as any man."

	Reaching out to the spirits, Davin shifted the ground
beneath Armand's feet.  The older man stumbled, then caught
himself, but the slight reprieve was enough for the
geomancer to reclaim the advantage, cutting viciously at his
opponent's legs.  "You killed my parents!"

	Armand parried low, then high, then low again,
weathering the determined youth's attacks.  "That sword," he
realized at last.  "It's changed somehow, but it's still... 
Who are you?"

	"My name is Davin Highwater."

==========

	This wasn't going as he had planned.

	High Priest Lambert was beginning to tire.  Already, he
had given some ground, and if he continued, he would find
himself with no place to turn.  Cavanaugh was proving
useless once again; he could barely keep that stripling with
the Ashura blade occupied, from the look of it.  The only
saving grace was that the heretics were devoting as much
energy to fighting each other as they were to him.  But that
was always the way of heretics...

	They'd managed to revive the Ryukin demon-girl,
somehow, and now she and Marcine Cavanaugh were trading
spells with Darovan.  The whelp was mixing something, a
caustic-looking bubbling red liquid, and gauging the
distance between herself and Armand.  The commander might
soon be in trouble...

	Well, no matter, if it bought him a few undisturbed
moments.  The good of Mother Church always came first, after
all, and dragoons were replaceable.

	Lambert drew the medallion from his robes and held it
loosely while he began to murmur a slow, rhythmic chant. 
Oh, yes, the Church would be victorious here.  And the
costs, all things considered, were quite acceptable.

==========

	The ground rumbled, a slowly-building roar as though it
might shake apart at any moment.  For a moment, the battle
stopped, as the combatants struggled to maintain their
balance.  And in that moment, the laughter of Lambert could
be heard above the din.

	Then the ground exploded upward as an empty suit of
steel armor sized for a giant, rusted and battered but
intact, surged upward, free of its confinement.  Malevolent
crimson points of light flared within the helmet where eyes
would have been, had the armor been worn by a creature of
flesh and blood.  A long spear rested in one hand, a sword
in the other; unlike the armor, both weapons appeared
unblemished, keen-edged steel gleaming dangerously in the
faint light.

	"Gilgamesh," Mika whispered, awed.

	"Gilgamesh," echoed Lambert.  "I command you:  Destroy
all of these heretics!"

	In a flash, the titan was upon them.  The spear flicked
toward Darovan, throwing up a shower of sparks as it bounced
off a mystic barrier.  At the same time, the sword sliced
downward at Marcine, who barely scrambled to the side in
order to avoid it.  Davin rushed to aid her.

	"Lambert," Armand called.  He had been thrown to the
ground by the tremor, one leg pinned by a fragment of rock. 
"What have you done?"

	"What I must, Armand.  The Church will win the day."

	Darovan chuckled.  "Your skills are as rusty as your
armor," he taunted.  The living armor made no reply, but
attacked again, a double blow that shattered the mage's
barrier.  "Ah, that's more like it," he declared, unruffled. 
Then he threw a bolt of black flame.

	Gilgamesh intercepted the attack with his sword, which
melted like wax in the unearthly flame.  He threw the ruined
lump of metal at Shizuka, who dodged, and held out his hand,
producing a long-hafted double-bladed battleaxe from
nowhere.

	Davin's sword clattered against the hilt of the shaft
three times in quick succession as he struck, high, low,
high.  He quickly ducked, avoiding the counterstroke with
the axe, and pressed the attack, while behind him, Marcine
chanted a spell.

	"Howling breath of winter, freeze the blood!  Di-Ice!"

	But the giant broke free of the ice crystal easily.  He
was rocked momentarily as a vial slammed into his
breastplate, exploding on impact, but he recovered before
Davin and Shizuka could find an opening in his defense.  The
Knight of the Round seemed to be everywhere at once; despite
parrying their swift attacks, he still managed to strike
himself, sending the point of his spear over the defenders'
heads to lash at Darovan or Marcine.

	"You who dwell in darkness, you who command the
primordial chaos, you who lie in wait to rise again, add
your will to my own, grant your power to my hand, that
together we may extinguish the light of hope... Unholy!" 
Darovan's spell rained black destruction on the warrior, but
when the wailing torrent of dark energy had passed,
Gilgamesh still stood unbowed.

	"He's too strong against magic," Davin said.  He was
pushing himself to his peak of swordfighting ability and
beyond, now, raising the sword to parry, then turning the
motion into a high arc, fanning the blade to knock away the
axe and cut back toward the giant.  It was a stroke that
might have beheaded a normal foe, but the blade passed
harmlessly through the empty gap between helmet and
breastplate.  That quickly, the geomancer found himself on
the defensive, turning aside three deadly strokes in  the
blink of an eye.  "And too hard to hurt..."

	"Employ your technique, Davin," Shizuka called.  "She
will attempt to overwhelm him..."

	Davin nodded and reached out to the stone embedded in
the hilt of his sword.  He'd never tried under such
pressure, and the link felt tenuous as he was distracted by
the Master of All Weapons' deadly attacks.  As he struggled,
he caught a fluttering of pink from the corner of one eye;
the ninja had broken away.  Davin paid for the momentary
distraction as the lance found its way through his guard,
scoring the outside of his thigh.  Gritting his teeth, he
forced himself to fight on; the wound was painful, but, he
knew, not serious.  Unless he let it distract him further,
and then it would get him killed.

	Shizuka stood lightly on the balls of her feet, her
left hand by her side holding her knife ready.  The right,
she held in front of her face, the first two fingers
pointing upward toward the ceiling, the others curled into a
fist.  She began to chant.  "Spirits of the ancestors..."

	He'd better get it soon, Davin thought, or he was
likely to be caught in something very destructive without
protection.

	Somewhere behind him, Mika was depleting her arsenal,
throwing everything she could get her hands on at the armor. 
Some of them struck, due to the sheer number of projectiles
raining down on Gilgamesh; bursts of flame, puffs of gas,
and splashes of acid pelted the warrior.  None of them
seemed to be having any more effect than his sword or
Marcine's spells, though.

	"...breach the gate between earth and heaven..."

	And suddenly, as he desperately blocked a spear thrust,
he felt it -- the spirit within the stone.  "Great spirits
beyond," he gasped, "grant me the power to destroy those who
stand in our way!"

	"...and strike with your righteous fury..."

	"Holy Blade!"  He felt the aura of invulnerability
surround him, just as...

	"Radiance!"  Everything around him faded to white. 
Brilliant light flowed past him -- harmless, but still
blinding.  He struck out at where he thought he remembered
Gilgamesh and was rewarded with a slight scrape... only a
graze.

	And then the light faded.  Gilgamesh stood, slightly
more battered, but strong as ever, as Davin discovered when
he had to scramble to avoid a spear thrust.  The titan had
traded the axe for a long, wavy-bladed knife -- well, a
knife to his stature; Davin would need two hands to wield
it.  The new weapon clattered violently against Ashura's
blade, nearly toppling the geomancer.

	Darovan, too, had been caught in the wide scope of
Shizuka's spell, and it appeared to have weakened him,
though it might also have been his expenditure of energy
during the prolonged battle making itself felt.  He stared
balefully at the girl for a moment, then glanced beyond her. 
"So the fat priest shows his true colors.  Well, let him
run, he is no threat to me."  It was true, Marcine saw;
Lambert had vanished in the confusion.  Darovan's mystic
shield, renewed, warded off another of the Knight's powerful
blows.  "I tire of this," he declared.  "Farewell, my
Legacy... you will come to me when the time is right."

	With those words, he dissolved into a cloud of shadows,
even as Gilgamesh's dagger pierced the shield and plunged
through the spot where his chest had been a moment earlier. 
The revived warrior paused for a moment, surveying the
spot... then, inexorably, he turned toward Marcine.

	Between the two, Davin stood, his blade held low with
both hands.  His breath burned in his chest; he felt ready
to drop from exhaustion.  But he was the only thing standing
between Gilgamesh and Marcine, just as Shizuka was
protecting Mika.  He reached within himself, trying to find
the strength to go on...

==========

	"You."

	"What do you--"  The sorcerer's heart jumped into his
throat as he turned, and he quickly fell to his knees. 
"Your pardon, Master," he quailed.  "How may I serve?"

	Cold eyes gazed beyond the groveling figure to the body
that lay beyond, resting on its back, hands clasped over her
chest.  "I see that you found her," he said, his voice
completely devoid of any emotion.

	"Forgive me, Master... we did what we could, but she
was already--"

	"Silence."  Darovan continued his inspection of the
body while the sorcerer cowered.  "Her Heartstone has been
taken."

	"Yes, M--"

	A sulfurous flash later, Darovan stood above the body
of the Knight of Wind, with a small pile of ash before him
separating the two.  "I said silence," the ancient mage
remarked.  "So Madonna is dead.  That is an inconvenience."

	Darovan held out his hand, palm up, concentrating.  A
sphere of red, inside of which streaks of yellow shifted and
flashed, materialized within his grasp.  "Immortal, eternal,
across the void I call to you!  Suspend the laws of
mortality, reverse the cycle of decay!  From the blackness,
the heart of a new star; from the ashes, the rise of a new
life... Phoenix!"

	Nothing happened.

	The ancient mage's eyes narrowed.  "Has its touch
changed even my blood, then?"  He scowled.  It seemed his
Legacy was no longer a desirable toy, but a necessity.  For
now.

	Darovan departed, to order the withdrawal from Tienne. 
He would raze the city to the ground later; right now, he
had more important things to do.  There was one crystal
remaining...

==========

	Searching for strength, Davin found something else, as
a prismatic burst of light shone around him.  He lifted
himself straight, in defiance of his weariness, and raised
his sword, with a shout:  "Null Moment!"

	The room was swept away momentarily by a tide of
blood-red light, as everything seemed to freeze in place. 
Then the light died down, receding to auras around Davin and
his friends.  The energy seemed to flow through his whole
body, revitalizing him; at the same time, the world around
him slowed to a relative crawl.  A detached part of him
watched with amazement as Gilgamesh's weapons returned to
motion; no longer were they twin blurs, but instead
ordinary.  He parried both weapons easily and still had time
to launch a counterstrike.  The blow didn't land, but a
minute ago, he would not even have had the opportunity...

	Shizuka darted in from behind the Knight, moving even
more quickly than Davin now seemed to be.  The dagger
clattered uselessly against the living armor's legs; she
leapt instead toward the helmet.  Davin pressed his attack
harder, hoping to occupy the warrior and buy her some time.

	As her hand touched Gilgamesh's shoulder plate, the
crimson aura around Shizuka unexpectedly vanished. 
Resolutely, she swung downward.  The knight calmly reversed
the spear thrust Davin had just deflected.

	There was a sharp crack as the blade broke against the
helmet, leaving only a small rent in the battered metal. 
The Ryukin girl began to leap away...

	Too late, as the lance pierced her side.

	Davin's rage drove him forward again, battering
Gilgamesh's indomitable defense.  Behind him, he could
faintly hear Marcine abandoning a fire spell to hastily
chant a healing litany.  Mika, too, was running...

	The geomancer lunged, blade outstretched, cutting off
Gilgamesh's dagger before it could strike his sister.  She
scurried past while he stood protecting her.  The implacable
Knight hefted its spear and, in one smooth, powerful motion,
hurled it.

	Away from Davin.  Directly at Marcine.

	The young magician reflexively recoiled, throwing up
her hands in a useless gesture of warding even as she again
changed the words of the spell she was forming, this time to
one of protection.  But it was too late, and now she saw it;
the lance was already nearly upon her, too close to dodge
even with her enhanced speed...

	An armored form lurched in front of her at the last
moment, and there was a sharp clang and a hideous squeal as
metal was forcibly parted.

	Marcine stared down at her savior, impaled on
Gilgamesh's lance.  A dozen conflicting thoughts and twice
as many emotions ran through her stunned mind. 
"...Father..." she said weakly, collapsing to her knees
beside him.

	The old man grimaced up at her.  "I guess..." he
struggled to say, "in the end... you're still my
daughter..."

	"Don't talk."  Marcine held out a hand, limned with a
faint green glow.  "Soul of the--"

	"No!" Armand interrupted, weakly swiping at her hand
with his own.  "No magic..."

	"But--"

	Again he quieted her.  "All my life... I was... a
soldier of the Church."  He chuckled, a thin laugh that
turned into a coughing fit.  Marcine started, but he waved
her back, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his
mouth.  "Always fought... for my beliefs... maybe... wasn't
always right... but..."  He gasped as a spasm ran through
his body, and forced himself to continue.  "But if I lost...
beliefs now... what would my life have been for?"

	"Father, please..."

	"No... my time... almost over.  Help your friends..." 
Armand visibly strained for each shallow breath, now; his
voice had faded to a whisper, and the color had drained from
him.  "Marcine... you know... you look just like your
mother..."

	Marcine bowed her head, fighting against tears.  Her
father reached out, clasping at her hand with trembling,
vigorless fingers.  "Tell Kyle," he croaked.  "I did... my
duty..."

	With that, his head lolled back, staring sightlessly at
the ceiling.  And Armand Cavanaugh breathed his last.

==========

	Lambert hurried down the corridor, as well as a man of
his bulk could hurry.  Far behind him, he could still hear
the occasional sound of battle -- the distant clash of
metal, the burst of a deadly spell.  He hoped that Gilgamesh
would eventually win, but he was not one to pin his entire
future on a single hope.  Besides, the recent battles had
drained his strength; better to use what little he had left
to get himself to safety than to squander it on a band of
heretics.  A glorious death was for soldiers, not High
Priests of the Church.

	He glanced over his shoulder to gauge his progress and
ran into something as unyielding as stone.  Bouncing
backwards a step or two, his head wheeled around.

	At first, he thought the cowled figure was a Manakyr,
some mage who had gotten lost and found himself here in the
catacombs.  But then he saw the metal mask beneath the hood. 
He allowed himself to relax slightly.  "I didn't expect to
see you here."

	"Obviously."  Siegvin said no more, but waited,
implacably.

	Lambert was in no mood to deal with the assassin at the
moment.  "If you don't have anything to say, stand aside. 
You're in my way."

	A humorless chuckle was his reply.  "Then speak I
shall.  I have come for the payment you promised me, High
Priest."

	"Payment?" Lambert snarled in disbelief.  "You, who
have failed in a month and more to kill a single girl, dare
to demand payment for a contract unfulfilled?  Begone."

	The masked man didn't move.  "My terms have changed,"
he said neutrally.  "You will give me the payment we
discussed in exchange for the death of the old priest.  And
I'll still kill the girl, at my leisure, if she survives her
current predicament."

	Lambert's fist clenched in rage, but he forced himself
to relax.  "You are quite troublesome," he said.  "Very
well.  I will give you what you deserve."

	Siegvin nodded, a mocking gesture, and Lambert ground
his teeth.  Well-deserved, indeed...  He reached into his
robe, a gesture designed to distract the cowled assassin
while Lambert murmured under his breath.

	"...Reap this soul, draw him into darkness and let him
see light no more.  Death!"

	Lambert watched in satisfaction for a moment as the
ghostly skull rose from the ground.  That turned to horror
as the skull's jaw slammed shut and it disappeared, to no
effect.

	The Fallen One's sword shone, flashing through the air
in three quick strokes.  "I am already in darkness," he said
as he sheathed his sword in one fluid motion.

	Lambert's body fell apart.

	The former Sleeper regarded his recent enemy. 
Deliberately and methodically, he began searching through
the tattered remains of the priestly vestments.  He would
have his payment.

==========

	Davin gasped for air as he parried another cut.  Once
again, he had been pushed to the limit, forced to dash back
and forth in an effort to protect all three of his
companions.  Worse still, the aura of red that surrounded
him seemed to be fading.  As he slowed, Gilgamesh's strikes
became relatively faster, and he was finding it harder and
harder to block all of them.  At this rate, one would soon
get through, and then...

	Marcine stood, head still held low.  He called out to
her, and she slowly raised her eyes.  Then her gaze fell
upon Gilgamesh, and pain transformed itself into rage.  She
lifted her hands, and a flare of golden light surrounded her
as she began to chant.

	"Soulless, mindless, boundless and immutable, echo the
pain across forever... Dark Eternal."

	And all light fled, plunging the crypt into a deep,
chilling blackness.  Somewhere nearby, Davin could hear
repeated impacts, explosions of raw power too great to be
contained, but the other senses were blinded.

	Just as suddenly as it had come, the void retreated,
and Davin began to breathe again.  On the floor lay
Gilgamesh, a deep rent across its breastplate.  To one side
was Marcine, leaning heavily on her staff.  "Did we..."

	With a tortured groan of metal, the living armor
shifted.  Gilgamesh began to pull itself back to its feet.

	"I guess not," Davin said.

	"Davin..."  Marcine sighed.  "I don't know if there's
anything more I can do.  I don't even have the energy for a
Calling..."

	The geomancer nodded grimly.  "Rest, if you can.  I'll
try to buy you time."  The prospects for that, he knew,
weren't good; his crimson aura had faded completely,
quenched by the darkness.  And Mika still knelt over
Shizuka, working frantically.  He couldn't split his
attention, like he had before.  But he couldn't abandon any
of them...

	The decision was made for him.  "Aurora Bolt!" a strong
voice cried, and a burst of brilliant light knocked the
Knight to its knees again.  It shifted, beginning to rise...

	And then it stopped cold, the blazing scarlet of its
eyes dimmed to pinpricks.

	"Well," said Cid.  "That was anticlimactic."

==========

	"Come on, come on, come on..."  Mika scooped the thick
green paste from the mixing bowl with her fingers and
slathered it onto the wound.  It didn't look good.  The
ninja girl was still bleeding; the wound Gilgamesh's spear
had torn in her flesh was not large, but it was deceptively
deep.  On top of that, her skin had grown clammy.  Mika's
potions and powders had kept her alive, so far, but even her
strongest medicines hadn't been able to close the wound or
stop the flow of blood, and this ointment was no better. 
She had slowed the bleeding and eased the pain, but...  "You
can't die!"

	"Mika..."  Shizuka's eyes fluttered open, much to the
chemist's surprise.  "Perhaps it is better this way.  She
will not have to face Master Cid--"

	"Coward..."  Mika sniffled.  "I'm not going to let
you..."

	A wan smile.  "Thank you, Mika.  But there is no more
you can do."

	The chemist's eyes went wide.  "Yes there is!"  She dug
into her pack, frenetically sifting through packets of herbs
and spare beakers.  "Stupid, stupid... why didn't I think of
it before?  Where did I... aha!"  She grinned triumphantly
through the tears, producing a handful of tiny feathers.

	"No..." Shizuka protested.  "You must not-- Mika!"  She
was helpless even to move as the younger girl opened her
hand, scattering the feathers onto the wound.  As they
touched her blood, they glowed a bright golden hue, then
melted away.  Shizuka gasped as a sensation of burning began
at that point.  Slowly, the warmth diffused through her
body, as the healing light gently covered her.

	And then it was gone, all at once, and Shizuka sat up. 
She was nearly knocked flat again by an overenthusiastic hug
from Mika.  "It worked, it really worked, you're okay!"

	Hesitantly, the ninja folded her arms around her young
friend in a gentle embrace.  "Mika... you should not have
wasted such a precious gift."

	"Don't say that," Mika sobbed into her shoulder. 
"Never say that."

	Shizuka held her tongue as the others gathered around. 
She allowed Mika to help her to her feet and essayed a weak
smile toward Davin and Marcine.  Then she froze as her gaze
fell upon the old monk who stood behind them and to one
side.  Shakily, she sunk back to her knees.  "Master Cid."

	Cid seemed, if anything, embarrassed by the show of
respect.  "Er... hello.  Have we met?"

	"Master Cid once offered assistance to this one's
family.  She--"

	"Ah!"  Cid laughed.  "The Ryukin Isles... you know, I'd
almost forgotten about that.  I'm getting old, and my memory
isn't what it used to be."  He smiled encouragingly and
winked.  Shizuka's demeanor didn't change.  "Er, yes.  Well. 
You must be Yue's daughter, then."  She nodded.  "But
that's... you couldn't possibly have been older than a year
when I visited the Isles, if you were even born yet."

	"That is so.  It is a matter of a family debt."  She
bowed her head.  "Which this one has failed to honor.  Your
student, Syeira Samson, no longer dwells on this earthly
plain.  This--"  She hesitated, a catch in her voice.  "I am
sorry."

	"Dead..."  The jovial attitude vanished; his gaze grew
distant.  "Oh, Syeira... forgive me, Gyn."  Focusing once
more on the kneeling girl, he asked, "How?"

	"She was killed protecting Marcine.  Her murderer was a
man in a steel mask, who called himself--"

	"Siegvin."  Cid's voice was cold and angry, now, not at
all like his usual gentle self.  "Rest easy, child.  There
is nothing you could have done against one such as him.  He
once got the better of me, as well..."

	"But it is still a failure."  She drew a deep, unsteady
breath.  "And this one will repay it, if... as she must."

	"No!" Mika shouted, stomping up to Cid.  "She can't
kill herself!  You tell her!"  Without waiting for a reply,
she whirled on the ninja.  "You dummy!  You can't kill
yourself... not after I went to so much trouble to keep you
alive!"

	Cid looked at her.  "Is that true?"

	She nodded.  "But... it is a matter of honor."

	"Who cares about that?  I'd rather have you!  Anyway,
you still need to teach me, and... and...  And you and big
brother and Marcine are the only ones I have, I can't lose
you, you have to stay with me, and what good is killing
yourself supposed to do, anyway?" Mika wailed in one breath,
near hysterical.  Davin came forward, and she latched onto
him, sobbing loudly.

	Shizuka's face wasn't visible, but her voice was tight
and strained.  "She did not wish to cause you any
distress..."

	"A matter of honor, eh?" Cid mused quietly.  But
somehow his voice carried through everything else.  The
Ryukin girl silently nodded.  "Well," he continued
thoughtfully.  "I suppose you should do your duty, then."

	"No!" Mika shrieked, struggling violently in Davin's
grip.  Impassively, the ninja girl's hand swept from her
sleeve, bearing a naked dagger, twin to the now-broken
weapon she had used earlier.  She raised her head high,
closing her eyes as her arm reversed the stroke, driving the
point of the blade toward her stomach.

	The blade stopped.

	Shizuka opened her eyes, staring silently up at Cid,
who held the knife easily between two fingers, a hair's
breadth from her body.  Even Mika, surprised, stopped
crying.

	"Do you really think that that's your duty?" he asked
quietly.  The ninja looked blankly at him, and he sighed. 
"So young.  All right, listen.  That little girl," he said,
nodding to Mika, "just saved your life.  Right?"  She nodded
in turn, and he continued.  "And you never swore a formal
oath to Syeira, right?"  A second nod.  "Syeira was a
competent woman, wasn't she?"  Nod.  "And she knew the risks
she was taking.  Her death isn't less a tragedy because of
it, but she knew it might happen one day," Cid explained
gently.  "She chose to take that risk.  I don't think she
would have wanted you or anyone else to die just because she
did.  And if it's debts that concern you, I'd say you owe
more to the young chemist there than to anyone else."

	"But--"

	He sighed again.  "Well, then, think of it this way. 
If you really were indebted to me, your death wouldn't pay
me back anyway.  But you could help me by helping these
young people."  He grinned, suddenly impish again.  "What do
you say?"

	Mika clasped her on the shoulder.  "We need you,
Shizuka... you're one of us."

	She was silent for a long time, but finally she nodded. 
"Very well.  I promise to do my best to aid Mika and her
friends--"

	She had planned to say more, but she was interrupted by
Mika's embrace and cheers... and, she realized, Davin's and
Marcine's as well.

	Well, then, perhaps it would be enough.

	But the time for celebration was short.  "We've still
got trouble," Pearl reminded them.

	Marcine nodded.  "Darovan is loose... but the
crystals..."  She hesitated.  "Has the third broken, too?"

	"I don't know."  Davin's expression was troubled.  "We
came to ask Gilgamesh about the Knights, but..."  He turned
helplessly toward the unmoving armor.

	"Well."  Cid's eyes gleamed.  "I think he's free now. 
We ought to be able to wake him..."

==========

Notes: Thanks to Kate, Marcus, and Brett for looking this
over at various points.

This one was tough to write, and I didn't quite manage to
get through all of Tienne. @_@  But I think it came out
pretty well.  Hope you all like it.