It was a cavern deep underground, so plunged into shadow that the very
sun could not begin to drive the blackness away.  This mattered little
to the occupants of the cave, the surrounding darkness a matching shade
to their vile presence; they shifted about while awaiting their ]
summoner, their thousands of bodies groaning eerily with the tremors of
newly returned strength.  They were gathered together for the first
time in literally millenia, liberated as they were from their unnatural
bindings and allowed once again to plague the dying surface of the
earth.

Yet powerful as they were, their existence was threatened.  This was
the reason behind the gathering, after all.  The demons had always
preferred operating independently, but now that their very purpose was
at stake they were more than willing to become a cohesive entity.

It was a long while before the overlord spoke, and when he did it came
as a low, rumbling growl that caused the very walls of the cavern to
shudder slightly.

"Welcome, my brethren," he said while casting his cold, calculating
gaze over his flock with a certain degree of satisfaction.  Indeed,
they were more than brethren to him; they were his children, his
tribute to the everlasting Cause that had placed him upon the
vulnerable earth.  It had been far too long since he had last looked
upon them as a whole; to see this now filled him with a deep sense of
pride.  Despite all that they had gone through, their will had remained
true to their underlying goals; and now all that he had struggled for,
all that he had sacrificed, would be undone by the actions of a mere
handful of beings... *lesser* beings.  'There is still enough time,' he
assured himself.  'There is always enough time.'

He paused for an uncomfortably long time and flexed his clawed,
leathery wings before going straight to the heart of the meeting.  "How
close is the Legacy to her goal?"

A smaller demon near him responded.  "His Legacy is still not upon
it."  He paused, then added, "Is our time to strike come?"

"No," the overlord responded in a hoarse whisper.  "Not yet."

"Our survival rests on the edge of a knife, and you insist on staying
our hand!"  cried an incredulous broodling farther into the cavern.
"Why should we not slay that which threatens us?!"  The statement was
immediately followed by a low roar of concurring growls.  "Even as we
speak she is vulnerable!  We must act now!"

When the overlord replied, the cave fell deathly silent, the frigid
malice of his voice commanding absolute stillness in a moment's time.
"You have much to learn, my children.  She that threatens us shelters
us also, though she knows it not."

"How can you say this?!" the same demon as before demanded with a
snarl.

"You forget too easily that the Legacy is not the only blade that would
destroy us... and perhaps her blade should prove the more merciful."
Silence once more ruled over the black expanse of the overlord's
progeny, and he continued.  "Her very existence holds the wrath of
others at bay; we are not yet prepared to face all who oppose us."

"I... apologize, master," the demon replied, bowing his ridged neck
humbly.  "What is it that you would have us do?"

"The Fate of Ashura... it must not be wielded by our enemies."  The
overlord spoke the word Ashura with barely contained disgust; the
underling's arrogance had singlehandedly led to the failure of the
original plan... *his* plan... and the Slayer of Ashura had since grown
second only to the Legacy herself in terms of danger posed to the
demonic swarm and its mission.  The Slayer was not so strongly bound to
the earth as he once was, and unless he could be deceived his
separation would soon be completed.  And then... 'There is still
time,' he repeated to himself.  'All is not lost yet.'

"And...?" asked a different demon to the overlord's left hesitantly,
suspecting that more was to come.

"We wait for the Slayer to falter," came the response, spoken with an
ample degree of deeply-rooted malice.

Sensing that the meeting was ended, the swarm turned to shuffle noisily
from the cavern, their black bodies vanishing from the consuming
darkness as though they had never been.

The overlord, now alone once again as he had been so many times before,
returned to his thoughts.  The Mask was, as always, well beyond the
reach of the swarm, but once the Fate of Ashura was certain to remain
sealed away, victory against the Slayer would be all but assured.  By a
stroke of pure luck, the Slayer had taken up the foolish notion to
trust in the Eye; more specifically, he had been foolish enough to
trust that a demon would completely betray his kindred.  For the first
time in a long while, the overlord wondered whether he had
overestimated the former Sleeper.  'Time will prove the judge of
that,' he decided.  Regardless, with the Slayer fallen, the Legacy
would be eliminated.  And then... 'Our former dominion will be returned
to us,' smiled the great demon, his grating laughter piercing the
silent chamber.

His reverie was broken by one of his higher underlings, Blight, who
materialized from nothingness into tangible form nearby.

"My lord," began the demon, "I bring news of the Legacy."

"What knowledge could one such as you possess that one such as I would
not already know?" the overlord growled in response, clearly irritated
at the interruption.

"Even as we speak she is close at hand, over the eastern reach of the
Yahl Russan Mountains."

"Yes, I know," replied the overlord in dismissal.

"Diablos has begun the attack.  We should-" Blight fell silent as the
low roar of the overlord rose rapidly in volume.

"DAMN THAT FOOL!!" cried the overlord, fury surging through his dark
blood.  "DAMN HIM!!"

Blight took a discrete step backwards, unused to seeing his master in
such a rage.  "I do not understand.  Should we not take advantage
of-?"  The underling stopped once again as he perceived the eyes of
fire burning into him.

"You... you had a hand in this," the overlord growled ominously as
Blight took another step backwards.  "My imprisonment has not altered
my perception."  The underling had always been rather more independent
than the rest of the children, and as a result was always getting
himself (and, more often, others) into trouble; apparently, the demon
found doing this to be rather amusing.

After a second, Blight bowed his head in mock shame.  "I am sorry,
master.  I only felt that-"

"I have long known that you hold animosity towards him, and perhaps for
good reason."  The overlord paused, and the cavern filled with the
sound of his ragged breathing.  "But in this time of ending your petty
little games are meaningless.  Our plans must not be disrupted any
longer."  He paused again, and Blight raised his head.  "Recall him.
[NOW]."

"It is as you command, master."


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

FINAL FANTASY LEGACY
Knights of the Round

Started by Brian Stricklin
This portion written by Devast8or

Chapter 56: Eye of the Beholder

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

It was a beautiful day.  The midday sun shone through a thin layer of
crisp, flat-bottomed clouds, and far below them the short grasses of
the Yahl Russan tundra rippled slightly from a light breeze.  To the
far north, the faintly shimmering expanse of the ocean stretched to the
horizon, and to the west, the dense march of snow-capped granite peaks
rose rapidly from the frozen earth.

Davin took in another breath of the cool, clear air as he leaned over
the deck railing.  His eyes traced the progress of a herd of deer as
they wandered across the broad plains, enjoying the rare opportunity to
not occupy his mind with serious matter.  The fight with the dragon had
been tiring for everyone, and the pace of activity on the Excelsior had
consequently slowed to a peaceful crawl.

He turned his head to the right, taking comfort in the rush of wind on
his face and through his dark hair.  The ship had been brought about
just moments before, its prow now pointed straight toward the floating
realm of the Knight of the Sun; he found it necessary to grip the
railing a little more tightly to offset the tilt of the deck as the
Excelsior gently ascended.  He glanced back toward the bridge,
recalling that Bolgan was inspecting the engine room at the moment.  He
could easily identify Jil standing in her traditional place at the
helm, engaged in conversation with one of her officers.  'Probably
chewing him out for not working faster,' Davin concluded with a
chuckled.

After another few seconds of restful silence he turned from the rail
and headed to the nearby stairwell.  'Marcine should be awake by now,'
he decided.

------------

Diablos flapped his powerful black wings again, tearing upwards through
the sky at frightening speed.  Locked fully in his gaze was the
gleaming starsilver hull of the Excelsior, moving ever so slowly
against the light gray background of the clouds.

'YOU CANNOT HIDE,' he cackled to himself.  'I FEEL YOUR PITIFUL
PRESENCE, AND NOW I WILL CONSUME YOU.'

The silver object rapidly grew larger, and he tensed his unthinkably
powerful body for the strike.  'So close I am to fulfilling the will of
my master,' he thought with demonic glee.  'So very close...'

His iron fist impacted with the thick armor, causing a slight, almost
imperceptably ripple in the surface as the ship lurched sideways.

------------

One instant, Davin was walking forward on the level deck; the next, he
found himself airborn as the same deck slid three feet forward.  The
deep, ear-splitting ring of the shaking hull reached him mixed with the
startled cries of several nearby crewmen who also found themselves no
longer on their feet.  Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as
gravity took hold of him and pulled him back to the hard metal surface
below him.

His vision blacked out for a split second as his body rolled into the
railing he had been standing at mere seconds ago.  He thought he could
faintly hear the sound of Jil barking orders inside the bridge, but if
she was her words were too garbled for him to distinguish.  With an
effort, he dizzily opened his eyes and saw a black blur streak upwards
and vanish into the clouds.  After resting a second to martial his
strength, he pulled himself to his feet but collapsed again as the ship
continued to rock erratically.

Davin suddenly felt the ship veer to the left and accelerate rapidly,
and it was all he could do to keep from taking a painful slide across
the deck.  With another effort, he again struggled upright, all the
while holding on to the rail for dear life.  His vision seemed to take
hours to return to anything resembling normal, although in reality it
was only a few seconds before he made a dash toward the apparent safety
of the bridge.

Upon stumbling haphazardly through the door, he immediately noticed the
chaotic scattering of everything that had not been securely fastened
down; charts, navigational instruments, and writing implements lay
strewn all about the wide cabin.  Three unconscious crewmen were
sprawled ackwardly on the floor and against the aft bulkhead, all
slowly bleeding.  Amazingly, Jil Fallensand stood resolutely at her
post without so much as a scratch, calling out orders over the confused
din of casualty and damage reports flooding the room.  She took no
notice of Davin, spinning the ship's wheel to the right in a
continuation of the evasive action.

It was a long five seconds before Jil's screams of "SILENCE!!" could be
heard, but in an instant the bridge crew fell perfectly silent,
trusting in her judgement above all else.  The gentle creak of the hull
as it recovered from the sharp turn became audible, and then all was
quiet again.

"What the hell was that?" asked one of the younger officers nervously.

"SHHH!!!" replied Jil angrily, scanning the skyline with unnerving
intensity.  The other crew members in the bridge followed suit, but
nothing could be seen that had not been there before.

The dark missile streaked out of the smooth undersurface of the cloud
layer and crashed into the deck in the blink of an eye, bending the
thick starsilver for a brief moment before the durable metal snapped
back into position.  The impact dropped several of the unsuspecting
crew, including Davin, who was still fairly shaken, to the floor.
Those who remained standing watched in terrified awe as the massive
demon Diablos spread his broad, black wings wide and flexed his
powerful claws maliciously.

Jil reacted instinctively, rolling the ship hard to the left.  The
Excelsior responded immediately, throwing the rest of the personnel
against the wall in a jumbled mass.  Deaf to their protestations, she
activated the downward manuevering thrusters with a subconscious twist
of her right hand.  With his footing so suddenly removed, an unprepared
Diablos slid violently into the deck railing, the impact of which sent
him spiralling down toward the earth.

The woman at the helm wasted no time in leveling the Excelsior, and,
upon doing so, sent the ship into a rapid descent, all the while
yelling through the intercom at the weapon's officer to ready the
ship's cannons.  Diablos, although taken off guard, quickly recovered
with a midair roll and, with a burst of terrible speed, put sufficient
distance between himself and the Excelsior to permit another attack
run.

Davin shrugged off the limp body of an unconscious crew member who had
landed directly on top of him.  With an effort, he forced himself to
his knees, breathing hard and shaking slightly.  To his left he could
distinctly perceive the haggard coughs and gasps of someone he could
not even remember seeing before.  Davin glanced over to where the man
was lying on a cluttered stack of blood-stained papers, his right hand
clutching his ribs protectively.  'He needs medical attention,' thought
Davin subconsciously, and his thoughts instantly shifted to someone
else in the medical quarters below him.  'Marcine...'

He slowly pulled himself up using what fleeting stength he had left by
holding onto several nearby control panels.  Through the thick window
directly in front of him he could easily see the jagged rows of
mountains seemingly growing taller by the second as the ship fell
rapidly downwards.  He looked over to the helm once again at the sound
of Jil's voice, but found her still gazing out of the viewport, her
determined eyes fixated at some distant point roughly level with the
ship.  Following her line of sight, Davin quickly picked out the small
black shape on the horizon.

There was no doubt as to its identity.  The demon ascended several
hundred feet in a matter of seconds, then rotated to face his quarry
once again.  For a moment Davin lost it among the gray cloud layer, and
when he spotted Diablos again the creature had halved the distance to
the ship.  He glanced over at Jil, knowing from the look in her eyes
that she had something planned, but at a complete loss as to what.
With deliberate calmness she moved her hand to rest on a custom-built
lever to the left of the wheel, all the while tracing the demon's
progress as he came ever closer to smashing headlong into the
starsilver vessel.

Davin saw or heard the other crewmen that could still move bracing
themselves agains whatever objects they could, and, realizing why,
quickly followed their lead while mentally counting down the time to
impact.

Five...

Four...

Three...

Two...

One-

With a casual flick of her wrist, Jil Fallensand activated the
Excelsior's rocket-assisted takeoff system, instantaneously turning a
rapid descent into a white-knuckled climb.  The manuever caught Davin
completely off guard, and he crumpled to the ground after smacking his
head into a very hard panel.  He barely made out Jil's cry of "OPEN
FIRE!" before losing consciousness.

------------

Weapon's Chief Garmon nearly fell as his knees bent far too rapidly
beneath him, but he recovered quickly and resumed his vigilant watch at
the porthole.  His dulled hearing was assaulted by the bone-rattling
roar of a nearby rocket thruster; several of the personnel working
inside the gun turret clamped their hands to their ears in pain,
despite the fact that many of them had worked near heavy guns for most
of their lives.  To his left loomed the massive bulk of the Excelsior's
starboard supercannon, known affectionately to the gunnery crews as
'Bertha'.  ('Betty', the cannon's sister, occupied a similar position
on the port side of the bow.)  Garmon was never one to let himself get
overly detached from the action; because of this, he was acting as
observer for the cannon's gunner, a willowy youth strapped into a seat
behind directional controls and a targeting scope.  On the catwalk
below him, reloading crews stood at the ready next to a rack of man-
sized explosive shells.  The electric lighting dimmed slightly as power
was diverted to the ship's engines, but the loudspeaker system remained
fully functional, as the Jil Fallensand's most recent command
testified.

Garmon blinked in surprise as the massive winged body of Diablos
rocketed out from under the Excelsior's keel, the demon having
completely missed as the ship dodged faster than it had any right to.
Still, he came very close; Garmon could easily distinguish the
individual plates of pitch-black armor running down the demon's back
and tail, not to mention the wickedly sharp claws on the beast's arms
and legs.

"Target, bearing right 45 mark negative 15, [FIRE]!" yelled the
weapon's engineer, keeping his vision locked onto the blindingly fast
motion of Diablos.

"Bearing right 45 mark negative 15, aye!" replied the gunner as he
manipulated his controls to aim the enormous cannon at its target.
Garmon immediately felt the turret rotate underfoot and watched from
the corner of his eye as the thick barrel angled downward.  The
weapon's chief hazarded a glance at the young man entrusted with one of
the largest conventional weapons in recorded history; the gunner
already had his head up to the binocular sight, his body tense with
concentration.  He subtly adjusted his aim, and the powerful mechanical
workings of the cannon responded noisily.

The entire time from the acquisition of the target to the actual
depressing of the trigger was no more than a scant couple of seconds,
but to Garmon it seemed an eternity.  Despite his long service in the
field, the weapon's chief found himself sweating anxiously.  There was
so much resting on the skill of one man, a man that Garmon was
ultimately responsible for.  So much faith to put into a single
bullet...

The blast from the cannon was not heard so much as felt; the entire
turret shuddered as the great barrel recoiled a full fifteen feet, and
the starsilver mount groaned as if in agony from the incredible stress
placed on it.  The reloading crew immediately set to work hoisting up
the next round and preparing to slide the loading port open, oblivious
to the acrid smell of gunpowder.  Garmon paid them no heed; his eyes
burned through the haze of smoke blurring the view out of the
observation window, tracking the black demon and waiting an endless
half-second for the flash of impact.

------------

Diablos was utterly baffled.  The shimmering silver hull had been
directly in  front of him just moments before, but then it had
magically jumped upwards... and in midair, no less.  'How Can This
Be?!' wondered the demon furiously.  The movement had been accompanied
by great tongues of flame and billowing clouds of smoke, something else
that simply made no sense at all.  He was certain that the machine was
no dragon.  Even he was not *that* stupid.  Regardless, he found
himself on the opposite side of the metal ship without so much as
scratching its surface.

'Oh Well,' he decided.  'There's No Rush.'  It wasn't as though the
silver construct could escape from a great demon such as himself, and
such a manuever as it had performed would only work on him once.
Smiling inwardly, he prepared to turn around once again.

He vaguely felt the searing fire of the exploding proximity shell and
the sharp bite of the white-hot shrapnel before his entire body went
absolutely numb.  His consciousness became dimly aware that his vision
had gone utterly blank, although despite this he was fairly sure that
he was now upside-down.  Diablos pondered this bizarre turn of events
for a few moments before giving in to familiar blackness.

------------

Jil Fallensand watched with undeniable satisfaction as the demon
absorbed the full brunt of the explosion and dazedly flipped head over
heels before plummeting like a stone toward the flat ground.  The cries
of victory over the intercom were unnecessary; she knew that her quick
thinking, coupled with the exceptional skill of her crew, had brought
everyone away from another battle intact.  She glanced up at the
timepiece mounted in the wall to her right and noted that the entire
engagement from start to finish had lasted just over two minutes,
although she found that difficult to believe.

She turned away from the helm for the first time since the initial
impact and surveyed the damage to the bridge.  Medical personnel were
already bustling about the bridge picking crew members out of the piles
of material scattered over every conceivable surface.  Some of the
injured looked to be in worse shape than others, but none of them
looked fatally wounded.  Satisfied with the superficial glance over the
cabin, she returned her gaze to the outside world, noticing how much
closer the Excelsior was to the light gray clouds than it had been
before the boost.

She flinched instinctively when a hand patted her on the shoulder, and
she glanced over to see a very battered Davin holding a hand to his
bruised forehead.  "We all owe our lives to you, Jil," he said, then
chuckled quietly.  "I wonder if they'll call that one the 'Fallensand
Manuever' from now on."

"I dinnae doubt it," Jil replied, returning her attention to the helm.
"But I rather be thinkin' Valecrest'll be wantin' me hide after what I
did t' his ship."

Davin paused for a moment while watching as the last of the casualties
was shuttled to the medical quarters.  "If you'll excuse me," he said
as he turned toward the stairwell.  "There's someone I have to check
on."

"I understand, lad.  Aye, I-"  Jil fell silent and looked at the bridge
loudspeaker as it flared to life.  She recognized the powerful voice of
Weapon's Chief Garmon despite the distortion inherent to the intercom
system.

"TARGET IS NOT DOWN, REPEAT, TARGET IS [NOT] DOWN!!" he cried.  "ALL
HANDS, BATTLE STATIONS!!"

"ALL HANDS, BATTLE STATIONS!!" echoed Jil into the intercom.  The
replacement command crew scurried to their respective stations, pushing
past Davin as though he was not even there.  Left to fend for himself,
he made his way to the starboard viewport and scanned the skies for
their adversary, but he could see nothing other than the same ruffled
cloud undersides above and, over the edge of the deck, the rippling
surface of the plains below.  Still, the swordsman could *feel* it out
there somewhere, as though its very presence was tangible.

Davin's thoughts once more turned to Marcine, and he hoped for the
twentieth time that she was alright.

------------

Diablos could not remember the last time he felt fury as powerful as
that he was experiencing now.  Anger he knew all too well, but this
violently boiling rage was something foriegn, something... pure,
something... beautiful.  'So Beautiful...' he thought, deriving
enormous satisfaction from his barely controlled state of mind.  His
nature was truly awakened after countless long years of repression, and
it instructed him to channel his fury into something even greater.  The
demon recalled how this tendency felt, but he had simply forgotten the
thrill of surrendering his will to its powerful grip.  It had a name,
and it came to him then in a flood of emotion.

Hatred.

Hatred for the silver ship.  Hatred for the Legacy.  Hatred for the
pitiful men infesting the earth.  Hatred for Earth herself.  Hatred
born from the crushing defeat of his kindred so long ago, in a time so
much grander than the pathetic world of now.  Hatred for having the
power of his race stripped away in an instant.

Hatred had guided him then, and it fueled him now.  The ship grew
larger in his eyes with each passing moment.  Soon he would have them
all in his claws.  So very soon.  The myriad flashes of light along the
length of the airship mattered little to him.  The bursts of flak
shells around his body were of equally little concern, the bits of
metal bouncing harmlessly off of his powerful armor.  Diablos cared for
only one thing, and that was to follow wherever his hatred would lead
him.  Everything else was inconsequential.

------------

Garmon glanced down at the turret crew anxiously as they jammed another
massive shell into the gaping maw of the barrel's loading port.  He was
at a loss as to how the demon managed to stay alive under the withering
hail of gunfire.  The creature just seemed to soak up damage with
impunity.  He returned his gaze to the window, watching in horrified
awe as Diablos closed with the ship at breathtaking speed.  The
weapon's chief mentally calculated the time to impact at about ten
seconds, enough time for another broadside from the thirty starboard
cannons.  What would happen after that was anyone's guess...

------------

It started quietly at first, a sort of low, eerie humming that rode
softly on the wind.  The noise quickly intensified, shifting into a
grating screech that pierced the sky.  This then became a blood-
curdling wail that rent the very air, scattering terrified animals for
miles around as it tore its way towards the battle raging high above.

Diablos stopped short the instant the sound reached him, his blood
draining of its fire for a brief moment as he hovered in midair,
stunned.  His bottomless well of hatred yearned for immediate
vengeance, but the strength of the call was greater.  His very essence
was being summoned, and nothing inside him was capable of resisting
it's pull.

A flak shell exploded a mere foot from his right leg, jarring it
somewhat, but the demon completely failed to notice it.  Casting a
parting glare at the Excelsior, Diablos wheeled around and careened
downward toward the source of the call.

'Another Time, Legacy.  Another Time...'

------------

Even shielded as he was inside the armored bridge, Davin was forced to
cover his ears against the sickening howl.  The noise seemed to cut
straight through him, and he shivered subconsciously.  The starsilver
hull began to vibrate slightly, in tune with the wail; the resulting
amplification was anything but pleasant, but despite this a cheer rose
from the crew on the bridge; the massive black form of the seemingly
invincible Diablos had turned and fled, disappearing against the darker
clouds to the east.

After a few uneventful seconds, Davin, not knowing what to make of the
turn of events, faced Jil, who was clutching the helm so hard that her
hands appeared stark white.  "What just happened?" he asked.

"I dinnae know, lad," she replied, equally baffled.  "We best be
reporting to Tienne."

Davin nodded slightly before heading to the medical quarters, which he
reached without further incident.

------------

Fenris slowly raised his head from the frigid earth, his eyes still
half-closed against the bright glare of the sun, even shielded as it
was behind an overcast sky.  Around him for as far as he could see
stretched the gray-green tundra, the grasses before him becoming ever
taller as they grew farther from the cold of the north.  Despite the
cool air, his body felt uncomfortably hot; the wolf's fur was drenched
and heavy with his own sweat.  His body shuddered weakly as he
struggled to raise his body; it took several agonizing attempts before
he had fully separated himself from the ground, and mere seconds later,
his fatigued muscles gave out, collapsing him in a heap once again.

'So... tired...' he thought as his breath came more and more ragged
with each passing minute.  His body had grown ever more an enemy of
itself, his two inherent natures coming to exhausting combat constantly
now; such inner conflict had left him all but a ghost of his former
self.

Still, Fenris had never been one to lack determination.  Strength of
will had been an accepted necessity for as long as he could remember,
and his life as a mortal being had certainly helped to reinforce that.
'Nothing can take this away from me,' he reminded himself, gritting his
teeth against the pain as he forced himself to his feet.  'Nothing...'

The feeling washed over him in a black tide, his body flaring to life
as it was suddenly reawakened by a force outside himself.  The wolf
snapped his head to the left, his eyes locked onto a distant point on a
low hill just visible over the gray horizon.  His eyes, his ears, his
very perception was opened in an instant, the wail of the demon's call
piercing straight through to his core.  He felt his mind unwillingly
drawn to the call's source, binding him to the distant being with an
unbreakable cord.

It took all of his remaining energy to hold the cursed flow of his
demonic blood at bay; it now wanted more than ever to return to its
kin, and had been granted limitless new strength by the recollection of
what it used to be, long ago.  "Must... not... give... in..." Fenris
breathed as his body came ever closer to utterly destroying itself
under the strain.  His... unusual condition, paired with the split
heritage of his mortal form, had made him all the more vulnerable to
the wiles of his darker side; now, the black energies came close to
irresistable.

As before, their voices spoke to him, a subdued, eerie chant that had
for centuries echoed inside of his mind; now, it grew unbearably loud.
'Come with us; do not deny the gifts that you have been granted.  It is
the only way to save yourself, and it *is* what you want.'

What sanity Fenris retained under his control suddenly came to a
strange, inexplicable conclusion; it *was* what he wanted, after all.
It would be so easy, so very easy... and then it would all be over.  He
would attain salvation from his hell, and it would be so very easy...

"GET OUT OF MY MIND!!" growled the wolf defiantly, ignoring the agony
that the exhertion caused him.  "GET OUT!!  I WILL NOT SURRENDER!!"  He
coughed, a sickening hack that left the gray earth bloodied.

He was now certain that it was not his own dark side speaking into his
mind; the raw strength of the calling was far too great.  'Come with
us, child, or your body will die... YOU will die, become forever lost.
Are you too blind to see this truth?'

Fenris did not even attempt respond through his own thoughts; they were
no longer under his command.  Hearing his own voice was now all that
kept him from slipping away from the reality he chose to believe in;
above all else, he would never allow himself to fall into a reality
constructed by another being's perceptions.  "Truth... is in the eye of
the beholder," he breathed with an effort.

'It is never too late,' responded the voice as the howl of the demon's
call died away in the air.  'It is never too late to save yourself.'
With these parting words, Fenris felt his consciousness resuming
control of his mind, a feeling that alleviated much of his excrutiating
fatigue.

"I know," the wolf growled quietly to the wind.

------------

Davin looked up once again from the broken ground of the floating
island high above the thick, rumpled carpet of an uneven cloud layer.
It was now well into the afternoon, the sun having begun its slow
descent through the clear blue of the sky.  The stark white western
face of the massive fortress covering much of the island's surface
shone brightly in the strong light; the broad arches of the flying
butresses cast deep lines of shadow across the massively tall glass
windows which rose from floor to ceiling in the thick stone walls.  The
eastern wing of the structure was likewise plunged into shadow, with
only the tall spires at its far end reaching into the receding rays of
sunshine.

It was decided that the same group that had descended previously should
be the ones to return the heartstone to the Knight of the Sun.  As a
result, Davin found himself in the lead as the party moved through the
decrepit gardens, with Kyle just behind and to his right and Zarela in
a similar position to his left.  Marcine and Pearl followed immediately
after them, with Stine bringing up the rear to guard against any...
unwelcome... surprises.

The geomancer turned and held up his hand, motioning for the others to
remain behind while he scouted out the entrance to the castle; the odds
of one person being spotted were exponentially lower than those of a
full party.  Cautiously, he crouched near the entryway behind a fallen
block of stone easily five times his size; the sheer size of it made
him wonder briefly how anyone had managed to move it in the first
place.  This observation was quickly filed away into memory as he
spotted a short, green, burlap-clothed creature shamble across the
broad expanse of the main hallway.  It took several minutes for his
eyes to adjust to the relative darkness of the castle's interior; the
tall windows served to faintly illuminate portions of the floor and
walls, but other sections remained utterly dark.  Still, he could
easily make out the remnants of some sort of mosaic that once occupied
the center of the hall; as he peered more closely at it, he realized
that it was a stylized representation of the sun, fallen into disrepair
but still recognizable.

Another Tonberry stumbled over the broken floor, its lantern a minute,
dim point of light in the distance.  'Where are the rest?' wondered
Davin, risking a better look and leaning out from the left edge of his
cover.  He half-expected to come face-to-face with one of the monsters,
and was quite relieved when he saw nothing at all.  The great multitude
of creatures had simply vanished; the few stragglers he had spotted
were now nowhere to be seen, the quiet echoes of their footsteps no
longer echoing off of the high, vaulted ceiling.

The other party members, who had been watching the geomancer
expectantly, hurried over when he motioned to them; the massive block
of stone easily provided sufficient cover for them all.  Stine, who had
taken the opportunity to observe the interior of the fortress for
himself, made an observation similar to Davin's.  "Verily, mine eyes
dost not see yonder Tonberrys," he commented without looking away from
the cavernous hall.

"I don't see them, either," agreed Marcine.  She turned to face Davin.
"Where'd they go?"

"I have no idea," replied the geomancer honestly.  "Last time they were
everywhere, and now, they're just... gone."

It was at this point that Zarela chose to make a rather unwise
decision.  Climbing onto the stone block, she drew her sword and
screamed with all her might into the darkness, "HEY!! GREEN GUYS!!  WHY
DON'T YOU COME OUT AND PLAY?!  I'M SURE THA-!"  She inexplicably found
herself falling as several pairs of hands pulled her forcefully
downward.  Before she could cry out in protest, another hand clamped
tightly over her mouth, and struggle though she did, she could not free
herself.

"Art thou [INSANE]?!" hissed Stine angrily as he glared at the
swordswoman.  At the question, Pearl found herself compelled to cough
loudly to suppress her own commentary.

Kyle, who had turned to observe the proceedings, returned his watchful
gaze to the castle interior and held his breath in expectation of a
swarm of Tonberrys suddenly materializing out of thin air.  The rest of
the party fell silent as well, waiting anxiously for his report.  It
was a full minute before he exhaled in relief.  "Nothing," he stated
simply.

"Consider thyself lucky," grumbled Stine, never taking his hand off of
Zarela's mouth for fear that the swordswoman would do something of
equal stupidity to her action before.

"Come on, Stine," chided Pearl.  "Play nicely with the other
children."  She turned to Davin.  "What's the plan, o fearless leader?"

He took a moment to respond.  "Strange as it may seem, it may be safest
to keep in the middle of the hall once we move inside."

"Verily, Stine doth agree," agreed the beastmaster.  "Tis the safest
path through yonder castle."

"Why?" asked Pearl.  "Won't that make us much more visible?"

"It will deprive our opponents of the element of surprise," replied
Kyle, fractionally turning his head without relinquishing his vigil.
"We don't know where the Tonberrys are, so-"

"All right, all right," agreed Pearl.  She motioned forward, right arm
extended.  "Shall we?"

------------

With a light globe bathing the party and their immediate surroundings
in a yellowish glow, the six adventurers proceeded cautiously beneath
the high stone arches overhead.  The broken tiles of the floor
occasionally crunched underfoot; each time this happened the more
paranoid amongst the party would freeze and glance around nervously,
fully expecting a swarm of short, green creatures to come storming out
of the recesses and shadows of the hallway.

Davin glanced to his left briefly from his position in the lead,
certain that he had seen something move in the thick darkness behind
one of the trunklike columns that kept the roof from collapsing despite
their varying states of disrepair.  'Probably nothing,' he assured
himself, not believing the statement at all.  Looking forward again, he
noticed that the broad stairwell at the far end of the long hall
appeared to be much larger than it had been what seemed like moments
earlier.  "Over halfway there," he whispered.  As he waited for some
sort of response, he noticed that something was missing.  Something he
was used to hearing.  'No footsteps,' he realized, turning to see why
the other five had stopped.

He needed no explanation when he saw the other party members standing
perfectly still on the crumbling floor.  Lining the entire length of
the wall was a dense host of flickering orangish lights that had simply
not been there seconds before.  Turning quickly, he observed that the
opposite wall was similarly illuminated by row upon row of lanterns,
and the geomancer could only assume what wielded each of them.  'This
is bad,' he admitted.

"Everyone, to the stairs!" Davin ordered, clasping his hand around the
comforting grip of his sword and drawing it quickly. The other five
broke their repsective gazes away from the horde and turned to face
him.  "Let's move!" he repeated.

Weapons at the ready, the six adventurers broke into a mad dash for the
relative safety of the stairway, the swarm of Tonberrys converging into
a mass behind them and to their sides.  The froglike creatures moved
with a speed that belied their small size; Marcine glanced over her
shoulder briefly to behold a veritable army of them thundering angrily
after the party, and for a moment was rooted to the spot in terror.

"Don't look back!" yelled Kyle over the deafening shuffle as he grabbed
his sister by the arm, dragging her forcibly along.  "Don't stop
moving!"

It was then that something very bad happened.  Another very dense group
of lights suddenly flared to life in a deeply shadowed corner bordering
the stairwell, and moments later the accompanying Tonberrys scurried
out to block the escape route.  'This is also bad,' noted Davin.  He
had been through ugly situations before, and perhaps this one was not
quite so bad as some of the previous ones.  Still, he had to admit that
usually the only reason he remained alive was because of a bunch of
simulatneous occurrences of many highly unlikely events that just so
happened to play in his favor.  'What's there to ensure that such
things will happen now?' he wondered.

"Everyone, back to back!" he ordered as the sea of green rapidly
encircled the group and closed in for the kill.  The others immediately
complied, forming a tight circle intended to resist the attack for as
long as possible.  This did not mean that they stopped moving toward
the stairs; although their progress was significantly slowed, each
person realized that the only way out of the situation in one piece was
to reach the sanctuary offered (perhaps unwittingly) by the Knight of
the Sun.

The Tonberrys were close now, especially those following the party;
Kyle could clearly distinguish individual pairs of widely-spaced eyes
among the mass of green bodies.  As for their feet, he was rather
impressed with how quickly the Tonberrys could move them without
tripping and falling flat on their faces.  Not that that was very
comforting; the sharpened edges of the short, thick knives gleamed red
in the lantern light as the diminutive creatures grew ever closer.
After a few moments, he raised his weapon in preparation for a
preemptive strike, his hands clamped tightly over the cold, heavy metal
handle.  'Here we go...'

He instinctively snatched the heartstone of Johannes from midair as it
fell from where he had tucked it away just under the shoulder plate of
his armor.  He inwardly chided himself for choosing such an insecure
location to store such a valuable item before his mind registered just
what was wrong with what he was seeing.  First off, the stone was
glowing; very brightly, in fact, and for no apparent reason.  Second,
all of the Tonberrys chasing him had suddenly stopped dead in their
tracks.  The other green creatures quickly followed suit, many of them
even backing up to a more discrete distance as though afraid of the
stone.

"What just happened?" asked Marcine, turning her head to the right to
speak to Davin and noticing that he was seemingly lost in thought,
staring blankly forward.  Concerned, she added, "Davin, are you all
right?"

The geomancer did not respond; he was far too intent on listening to
the voices all around him, voices borne on the very spirits of the air.
'They're communicating,' he realized, straining with utmost
concentration to discern an intelligible fragment from the cacaphony of
noise all around.  It was difficult, but one word was often repeated
and stood out from the surrounding chaos: "freedom".

<What is it that you want?> asked Davin, seriously wondering if the
creatures would be able to understand him at all.

<Freedom,> came the answer of a thousand voices.  Davin instictively
reached up to cover his ears from the deafening volume before realizing
that such an action would be folly.  <Take the stone and free us,> they
continued, the entire host now focusing entirely on him, those in front
of him staring straight into his eyes with unnerving intensity.

<...Very well,> agreed Davin, trusting that he would find some means of
doing just that.

His response was accompanied by the verbal equivalent of a nod.  <We
apologize for our actions,> continued the multitude.  <We did not
know.>  And with that, the swarm of Tonberrys turned and shambled
slowly away, the combined radiance of their lanterns slowly dispersing
into the broad expanse of the hallway.

Davin turned to face the others and noticed that they, too, were
staring at him, some of them rather more confused than others.
"Verily, what hast gone down, young Highwater?" asked Stine as he
slowly resheathed his rapier.

Davin, for his part, looked equally confused.  "The Tonberrys said that
they want us to take that heartstone-" he pointed to the shimmering gem
that Kyle held securely in his powerful hand "-and free them.  Didn't
you hear?"

"Hear... what?" asked Zarela, resting Alexandros loosely on her
shoulder.

"The Tonberrys were talking.  You guys didn't you hear them?"  The five
shook their heads, and Davin suddenly came to a very important
realization: he was the only geomancer in the group.  "Oh... right..."

The massive hall was deathly silent for a long time.  "You sure you're
alright?" asked Pearl, not really expecting an answer and not getting
one.

"No sense in stopping now," stated Davin quickly, glancing upward and
finding the light globe still hovering faithfully overhead, its warm
glow just providing definition to the thick arches in the roof as the
afternoon deepened through the tall windows to the party's left.
"Let's go."

------------

The party found the great Tonberry sleeping in his great throne, his
head rising slightly from its position on his chest as he breathed
deeply of the cooling air.  The final rays of light were just filtering
through the broken remnant of a cirular stained-glass window mounted
far up on the northern wall of what now served as the Knight's
permanent residence.  Once again, Davin could not help but notice the
crumbled remains of what were once the original walls of the throne
room jutting jaggedly from the dusty floor.

The Knight's head shot up instantly when Kyle crossed the threshold of
the chamber.  <I sense that thou hast it on thine person!> called
Johannes, although Davin was the only one who could hear him.  <With
haste, bring it before me!>

Davin held out his hand to Kyle, and the Dragoon, guessing correctly as
to what had just happened, gave him the heartstone, immediately
noticing that the gem was now burning with blinding intensity and
shielding his eyes.  It was almost as if it was alive, that it knew
that it was close to its master and longed to be reunited with him.
Davin, careful not to look directly at the item, slowly made his way to
the throne; despite the brilliant light, he noticed that the Knight was
staring directly at him, which seemed rather unusual, seeing as how the
giant Tonberry was completely blind.

Johannes seemed to hear the geomancer's thoughts.  <Verily, there are
some things that one dost not need eyes to see.>  As Davin came closer,
the Knight reached out with his left arm and called out to the spirits
of the air to return to him that which was stolen so long ago; he could
bear the wait no longer.  Responding instantly, the air surrounding the
heartstone coalesced into a network of dense tendrils.  Davin watched
in surprise as similarly constructed cords stretched from the stone to
the Knight's outstretched fingers in the blink of an eye; fractions of
a second later, the gem was in the strong green hand, its incredible
radiance flushing all shadows from the tall chamber.

Davin suddenly found himself knocked flat to the hard floor as a pulse
of raw energy flashed from the Knight's body.  His ears immediately
started bleeding from the accompanying pressure wave, although he
hardly noticed over the splitting pain in his forehead; the wailing
shriek that filled the throne room rent the air and everything else
that it could wrap in its crushing grasp.  Distantly, the geomancer
could just hear several people calling his name, but he could not
summon the strength to turn his head.

The Knight's green coloration had quickly shifted to that of white-hot
metal; the poweful glow then grew progressively brighter over the short
span of a few seconds, to the point where Davin could no longer make
out the Knight's form beneath the impenetrable aura of light.  He
forced himself to look away in order to save his eyes; even then, the
sheer brilliance was agonizing.  And then, just as quickly as it had
started, the light died away to a far more comfortable level, although
to those who were present it seemed rather to grow utterly black.  With
an effort, the geomancer struggled to return to his feet, breathing
heavily.

He looked up when he felt Marcine's arm helping him balance, noting
absently that the other four members of the party had likewise moved
into the chamber.  What really grabbed his attention was the entity
hovering over the remnants of the throne in the center of the room.  It
was quite unlike anything else he had witnessed in recent memory; it
was roughly in the form of a great bird of prey, its rippling,
translucent wings easily spanning thirty feet.  This was rather unusual
in and of itself; however, its most striking feature was that it had no
definite structure, composed instead of a radiant fabric of shimmering
white light that bathed the room in its soft glow.

"Wow..." breathed Marcine, completely losing herself in the intricate
luminescence of the creature's ever-altering surface.

Everyone was startled when the enrapturing being spoke, its words
echoing over them in a warm tide.  "I thank thee for mine freedom," it
said slowly, its head swiveling fractionally as it stretched its wings
experimentally.

"Johannes?" inquired Kyle, who had not taken his eyes off of the being
since it had emerged from the burning rift of light a minute before.

"Indeed," it replied.  "Tis been long since I hath been free as thou
seest me."  The entity seemed to sigh.  "Tis been very long..."

"But... but you're not human!" cried Zarela, amazed that the others had
seemed to overlook this very obvious fact.  At least, she assumed that
they had.

"Verily, mine form hast been forever destroyed," the being replied as
another pulse of light rippled across its body.  "Tis a shame; for
sooth, I shalt not remain long in this realm lacking mine form to
anchor me thusly."

"Oh..." said Marcine sadly.

"Worry not over mine fate, fair child.  I hath lived far beyond the
years granted me, and mine purpose is now ended."  The being's head
looked up slowly, levitating its hearstone from its position of rest
beneath it to a hovering stop in front of the party.  "Take mine heart
with thee henceforth."

Stine, who was closest to the gemstone, reached out and took hold of
it, noting that it yet retained a significant fraction of its gleaming
luster.  'Verily, tis beautiful, nay?' he commented to himself before
wrapping it in a spare leather cloth.

Johannes resumed speaking soon afterwards, but all noticed that his
voice sounded much fainter than before; similarly, his body grew
increasingly more dull as the seconds wore on.  It was as though he was
simply fading from existence.  "Children, know that he who beareth the
Eye verily holds the knife upon which thine fate liest in tremulous
balance.  Seeketh him first, before thine fate thusly falleth."  And
with that, the Knight dissolved into nothingness.

Davin, who had recovered significantly, turned to the others.  He knew
nothing of a bearer of an Eye, but he could certainly form a decent
guess.  "Let's go," he ordered quietly, leading the party from the
chamber as the last light of day fell away into darkness.

------------

On the flat plains of the Yahl Russan tundra, deep in the frigid air of
the night, a lone man stood beside a great horse; his gaze was trained
on the distant horizon, an invisible line against the black of the sky.
Invisible, at least, to those with eyes of flesh.

'Where are you, Legacy?' thought the man, absently fingering the hilt
of a slightly curved blade mounted on his left side.  The new vision he
had been granted was dauntingly comprehensive, if it could even be
rightly considered vision; he could see absolutely anything and
everything he desired to simultaneously, accompanied by a veritable
flood of extraneous information that went along with the infinite
fields of view.  Strangely, he found it rather easy to become
accustomed to the influx of data that the Mystic's Eye provided, almost
as though it were meant to be wielded by him and him only.  He had long
since taken comfort in the assurance of absolute knowledge that the
device provided him; he was quite certain that it would prove to be the
critical piece in the intricate web of his plans.

And yet, the device had proven to have one potentially fatal flaw.
Despite his constant search for his target, he could not find a trace
of the Legacy or her companions anywhere.  It was as though they simply
did not exist, that they were all just a figment of his own
imagination.  Of course, he knew otherwise; their presence was an
undeniable certainty.

After a time of perfect silence, he turned to his trustworthy steed and
prepared to mount.  'Time to do this the old-fashioned way,' he
decided, riding off over the still earth as the clouds slowly thickened
to the north.


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

Author's Notes:

Go bland, do-nothing rewrite.  Yay.

As I just metioned, this is not the original version of this chapter,
and as such is rather different.  As of now, this rewrite is the
shortest Impro part I have ever written (as opposed to the original).
Also, the underlying purpose of FFL has receded to obscurity once
again; I tried to summon it, but thusly was I fired upon for trying.

Actually, I think that perhaps the arguments against the original had
some validity, but for a different reason.  I had forgotten that the
party needed to return the heartstone to Johannes; as a result, the
event is now present in this version.  Additionally, I probably should
have thrown in at least some mention of Fenris in the original.  As for
my grand explanation of things not working, I, as always, continue to
disagree.  It may not be what you had in mind, but it *is* what I had
in mind, and it did not conflict with any previously established
factoids (I did check).  Such is the nature of Improfanfic; each writer
is bound to have his or her own interpretation of how things in the
story should progress, and so is able to sign up to write for the story
and guide it where they feel it should go.  It is unreasonable to
expect everyone that writes after you to see the story in exactly the
same light as you do.

Heh.  Can you feel the [RAGE]?

- Devast8or

i_am_devast8or@hotmail.com

"You can do it your own way, if it's done just how I say."
	- from 'Eye of the Beholder' by Metallica