TaeOhYa

Chapter Five: The Sand Pearl

All about them the city of Saffrom burned. Cecil had been to the city once before, as a boy of about eight years. His Highness had taken him along on a diplomatic visit to Damcyan, where he had encountered the royal family, the Muirs. Then, it had been a sparkling metropolis full of life. Beach white buildings extended to the ever-blue sky and the gold domed palace slept in the distance, keeping watch of the bustling desert city.

Though it had been very hot, everyone was hard at work, their skin tan and care worn, their smiles bright and their laughter infectious.

Now, Saffrom lay in ruins at Cecil's feet, wails of despair rising from the ruins of the city. Uncontrollable rage and sorrow gripped Cecil in its throes. Everywhere there was death; the stench of burnt flesh filled his nose, ash from once beautiful trees stung his eyes, and the taste that fire brought sat bitterly in his mouth. They stopped whenever they could to help the injured and dying, but Cecil did not step forward lest he be mistaken for an enemy.

It was nearly too much for the Dark Knight to bear.

First the raid on Mysidia, for which he had been personally responsible, and now this catastrophe. Cecil could not help but feel awash in his own helplessness, unable to do anything to save these people from the terror of a Red Wing's fire bombing.

Rydia hugged close to Cecil's side and buried her face in the armor of his leg, despite the fact that it was uncomfortable. He placed a hand on her head, knowing how the fire and the cries of the dying must remind her all too well of Mist, another one of his innumerable mistakes. Perhaps he was cursed; it certainly seemed that way, for many had suffered on his account.

The group scaled the charred stairs of the palace after what seemed an eternity adrift in a sea of flame. The doors had been blown off of their hinges by what Cecil could only assume to be magic and lay on the once fine marble floor inside. The corpses of the Damcyite Royal Guard littered the ground level, some bleeding, others burnt so badly the were beyond recognition as Human beings. Cecil pulled Rydia more closely toward his side as they climbed another flight of stairs to what Cecil remembered as the throne room.

Their footsteps echoed hollowly against the tile as they ascended, entering a room that must have once been very grand; though now the tapestries were ripped and bloodied, and a gaping hole in the ceiling allowed strands of feeble dawn-light to seep through.

The desperate sobs of a young man pierced the destruction. He was crumpled pathetically before the throne, grasping the corpse of a woman in a yellow gown, thought they were not yet close enough to discern the details of the heartbreaking scene.

Tellah, without so much as a whisper of warning, charged forward, brandishing his oaken staff as he rushed the young man. Cecil, taken aback, did not realize what was happening until the man on the floor had stumbled back, narrowly dodging the erratic downward blow of the aging man.

"You scalawag!" Tellah bellowed. "You killed her!"

"Please-!" The voice of the young man was pleading, a soft, almost melodic tenor. "I didn't-! You don't understand!"

Tellah struck at him again, and he scrambled to his feet, dodging the blow and holding up his hands. Tellah would have none of that, "you spoony bard!"

"Father ... Edward ...," Cecil, who had made his way to the side of the body along with Rydia, was shocked when its pale green eyes fluttered open and the seeming corpse spoke.

An arrow protruded from her stomach, restricting her speech. Cecil cast his gauntlets and helm aside, pulling her into his lap and brushing her thick, brown, tresses from her face.

"Stop fighting! This woman is trying to speak!" He commanded in a voice that filled the vacuous chamber with echoes.

Tellah and the man, Edward, if the woman's words were any indication, immediately dashed across the room and threw themselves to their knees to be at her side.

She peered at Edward through the haze of death, a haze Cecil knew all too well, and placed the fingers of a working woman on the side of his unblemished face. "Edward..." she turned her gaze toward Tellah, "I love him, father..."

"Anna..." Tellah's gravely voice caught in his throat, filled with a sorrow that Cecil could not begin to fathom; the sorrow of a parent losing their child.

"He's the prince of Damcyan," she explained, her other hand reaching to touch the side of her father's face. The man had removed his spectacles to reveal the same green eyes, shining with tears. "He's ... a good man."

Her words were growing weak now, and Cecil knew it would not be long until she slipped into eternity. Her breath rasping, she turned to Prince Edward at once more, using the last of her strength to speak. He was clutching her hand to his face, and Cecil could see how difficult it was becoming for him to hold back the flood gates of his sorrow. 'Edward ... I ... love ... you..."

With those last words she fell still and breathed no more.

For a moment, Prince Edward did not move, as if he could not fully process that his beloved had left this world, but the Dark Knight soon detected the tell tale trembling of grief in his hands.

"Who did this?" Tellah demanded of Prince Edward tactlessly, awash in his own grief.

"A man named Golbez stood at the helm of the attackers," Prince Edward said in a voice so soft that it was a wonder Tellah, who now stood and was pacing, his footfalls echoing in the cavernous rooms, could hear it.

"My parents and Anna both sheilded me from their arrows."

"Golbez," Tellah growled, spinning about. "I will have your head!"

"Wait," Cecil ordered, laying the woman's head down upon the tile and respectfully closing her eyes before standing. "This man ... I do not know much about him, but I do know that he is ruthless. You cannot possibly hope-!"

The fury in Tellah's eyes and the tears burning there silenced him more than the Sage's furious shouts.

"Silence! She was not your daughter! You do not know my loss! I will do this alone or not at all!"

Then he was gone, and Cecil could not find it in his heart to pursue the grieving father and stop him in his quest. Instead, he turned to Prince Edward, whose eyes were now freely flowing with tears, his head buried in the folds of his beloved's skirt. Much to Cecil's surprise, it was Rydia who spoke, "coward. Stand up. Grown men shouldn't cry. If I've stopped crying, so should you!"

"You're right, of course," the Prince looked up, and Cecil was stuck by the color of his eyes, as warm and golden as honey. He was reminded that he knew this Prince from all those years ago, from when he was but a child; though admittedly not well. "I am a coward, so I will not face my life without her. I will stay here and I will die."

Rage gripped Cecil once more. If he were to die, he would not want Rosa to follow him. He would want her to live on, to find light and love without him. Taking only a few strides, he grabbed the man by the scruff of his tunic and hoisted him to his feet.

Slapping the man in the face and pushing him backward in release, he found himself moved to the point of near shouting. "Wake up! Do you sincerely believe that she would wish you dead? You must live for her!"

He ran his hands through his hair, looking away from the Prince and sighing. Exerting control over his emotions, he turned his face back toward the Prince and spoke again, " in any case, I have need of your help. A friend of mine has fallen ill with Desert Fever, and you are the only one who can assist me in retrieving the Sand Pearl I need to save her."

"This person, you love her," he touched his cheek where Cecil had slapped him, and looked into the Knight's eyes unflinchingly. "I will help you. No one should have to suffer the loss of their lover." He turned around, his bard's cloak billowing. "If you follow me, there is a hovercraft in our underground hangar that we can use to cross the shoals."

Cecil took Rydia in his arms, realizing that she certainly must be overtired. Prince Edward, who was quiet as a mouse, gathered Cecil's forgotten helm and gauntlets in his arms, and they set off down the left corridor.

The Prince cast one last, longing, look at his beloved before he lingered no longer.

The Prince and Cecil fell into step beside one another, and Cecil noticed after awhile that the young ruler continued to cast him sidelong glances.

"You are aware that I do not bite?" Cecil asked, more lightly than he intended, but the bard Prince smiled and replied in his tuneful voice.

"I'm sorry, but is your name, perhaps, Cecil? I knew a boy named Cecil once. He was from Baron, as your accent dictates, but I can't see him having become ..." the Prince trailed off. 'Well, you don't act very much like a Dark Knight, do you?"

Cecil ignored that last comment, as he knew opinion of Dark Knights outside of Baron was not high. It seemed as though the rest of the world thought they were monsters, though a the majority of them were simply men who had been forced into their positions by circumstance. The Dark Blade captured those who had the right disposition in its throng, and it was wont to release its victims, even onto death. As a whole,

Dark Knights were remarkable individuals who had the mettle of champions, but were held captive by the Darkness, oftentimes against their own wills. They all lived with the solemn knowledge that they would one day either be killed by the Darkness or dominated by it.

"I was wondering if you remembered me," he mused instead.

"Who could forget a lad with your particular features?" Edward laughed, a musical sound, though it was still haunted; as it rightly should be. "You were so kind, as I can tell you still are. what drives you to the desert, Sir Cecil? Surely, you're not chasing after this Lady of yours?"

Cecil hesitated for a moment before replying, unsure of what he should say. At last, he settled on the bare truth. "I am a fugitive," as he would be. Golbez would not allow resistance if he controlled Baron; and he must, for the King would never authorize this were he in his right mind, nor would he allow Golbez the use of his Red Wings. "I led the raid on Mysidia and burned this child's home to the ground under orders." The young ruler looked shocked, and Cecil would be lying if he said that disbelief did not flatter him. "I could no longer live with myself, so I set out to treat with other nations in order to preserve their crystals. I seek to stop my country so that she may maintain a shred of her honor."

"Then you have my help, any I can offer," The Prince offered.  "A man who makes a mistake should always be given a chance to correct it. It is true that I remember you, and I know you're a good person."

"Your words, milord," Cecil turned his eyes away from the monarch, "I am not sure deserve them. I was only eight last we met."

"That may be true, Sir Cecil," replied the bronzed young man, "but you showed such respect to Anna." Cecil hadn't even been aware that the bard prince had noticed how he'd laid her body. "I have a hard time believing that someone who is so reverent of the dead could ever be evil."

They passed trough a pair of heavy wooden doors at the end of a deep staircase, delving ever deeper into the darkness.

The conversation died, leaving Cecil time to think. That Prince Edward believed reverence of the dead guaranteed his innocence proved his naivety, but Cecil did not say anything to him. Cecil had long ago stopped believing in people based off how they treated the dead. The only true judge of character was how one treated the living; something Cecil had experienced first hand five years ago.

He shifted Rydia in his arms, finding that she was sleeping despite being held against his hard breastplate. It was the deep sleep of exhaustion and he was grateful that she was able to find it, though he could not yet bring himself to sleep; not until Rosa was safe.

"Here we are," announced the Prince after awhile steeped in silence. He motioned toward a sleek, yellow blur before him, standing out against the blackness. "I'm quite certain you've never seen a hover craft before. They're fairly rare and difficult to manufacture." Edward ran his hand along the front end, and then moved toward the back, opening a storage compartment Cecil would not have noticed existed otherwise. He stowed Cecil's gauntlets and helm inside of it, turning back the Dark Knight, "each and every part must be enchanted by a White Magi with a specialized 'Float' spell, or it is unable to hover."

Cecil had never seen a machine like it before, of that the young ruler was correct; though Cecil had no idea what Prince Edward was explaining when he spoke of the 'Float' spell. The Dark Knight had never been particularly adept at Magic, so all talk of it was lost on him. The machine itself stood up to his waist and was a horse and a half in length with deep, brown leather seats, and a rounded front.

The Dark Knight looked at the bard prince, whose brow was now creased in sorrow. He was leaning over a panel on the wall, tapping at a series of buttons. Cecil did not realize that Damcyan was in possession of this level of technology; he supposed the panel had been installed when Damcyan had purchased the hover craft and was also enchanted.

A moment later, the north wall rose, letting a few streams of early morning light into the dark room. It had grown stronger since Cecil had last seen the sky, back in the throne room.

"Put the young lady in the back seat," the Prince advised. "You may sit up front with me."

Cecil lay Rydia where the Prince had directed, brushing her green hair from her face. He then easily jumped the side of the hover craft to sit next to Edward, who was playing with the dials on the wheel in front of him.

The hover craft lurched, and Cecil braced himself against the sides, cursing as he found himself floating several feet off of the ground. Though he'd flown miles above the earth, there was something different about this feeling of weightlessness that he found unsettling. The machine itself ran silently, so Cecil could still hear the bard prince's soft chuckle at his reaction as they took off into the desert heat.

It was a shockingly brief trio across the burning sands; though Cecil found himself dozing off to the feeling of warm air rushing past his face. He must be truly exhausted to be able to sleep in his armor while sailing across the blazing desert. Before he knew it, they were skimming across the watery shoals toward a distant, mountainous, landmass. Behind them gushed an enormous jet of water created by the pressure of the spell against the waves (as the Prince explained conversationally). Before long, they set down upon dry land, only a few yards from the gaping mouth of a cave.

It was not a limestone cavern, wet and cold, like the cave Cecil and Rydia had just barely left. Rather, it was a cave of warm, red earth, stuffy and musty (if the Dark Knight had to wager a guess), more like the den of a beast.

Prince Edward was already out of the hovercraft and moving about. He had removed Cecil's gauntlets and helm from the storage compartment, and had somehow scrounged out up a torch and what looked like a satchel of supplies. Shaking himself to wakefulness, Cecil himself exited the hover craft and strapped on his equipment. Sighing, he woke Rydia, who stared up at him with sleepy eyes, "papa?"

Cecil shook his head, "it's me, Rydia, it's Cecil. We're going to get the Sand Pearl now."

"Oh," she blushed and rubbed her eyes; Cecil couldn't help but feel a pang at her tired mistake, reminded of all he had taken from her. "Okay, Let's go."

There was a 'whoosh' as the torch set ablaze, and Cecil turned to look at Edward, who as staring at the cave mouth as if it nauseated him. Cecil walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "relax, Prince Edward. I promise you whatever monsters we meet within will not harm you."

"It's not that," Edward assured him, "it's only that I have not been into the Antlion's Den in a long time. I am not sure that I remember the way to the nest."

"Beasts usually burrow in a straight forward manor," Cecil assured. "I am sure finding the way will not be difficult."

Edward gave him a strange look as the three companions plunged into darkness every bit as stagnant as Cecil had imagined.

"Do you hunt?" the bard prince asked, his face unsure; Cecil could tell the idea made him uncomfortable.

"My friend Kain hunts," Cecil explained absently as he examined the surroundings. "I simply tag along on his expeditions in order th spend time with him. Our duties often separate use, you see."

The cave itself was made of tightly packed dirt that stood no chance of collapsing, fort it was held together by a hard, transparent material that Cecil assumed had once been the burrower's saliva. It made the glow of the fire against the walls strangely bright as it was amplified by the reflective surface.

"The life of a Knight, is it difficult?" queried the Prince as they traveled down the strangely vacant corridors; perhaps the Antlion was a great predator to the smaller beasts.

Cecil noted that Rydia had taken the Prince's hand, though they had barely spoken a word to one another.

"Is it a different sort of life, one that requires stamina and dedication. I am afraid it isn't as romantic as the ballads make it out to be, however. There is a great deal of hard work and training that goes into the craft, and it does not pay very well. On the other hand, being a Knight means that you have been elevated to the level of a Lord, and have secured your family a place in Baron's history. The future prosperity of a Knight's family is practically ensured, as any son of a Knight is permitted to marry a high dowered Lady."

"But isn't your situation unique? You visited us with Lord Thomas Harvey and he introduced you as his Heir," Prince Edward led the way through the shadows, his arm held high.

"That was a mistake," he replied, frowning deeply at the memories that came. "The Nobles would bar any such action. Succession will be decided when His Highness passed away."

It was silent for a very long time, as they continued to weave through the shadows. They eventually reached a large chamber with a sandy, loose floor and a sloping descent into what looked like a nest. The Prince and Rydia descended, and Ceicl followed.

Releasing Rydia's hand, the young ruler leaned down in the sand, "Antlion's are harmless. We should simply be able to take the Sand Pearl from her nest; it is not her egg, after all, only formed of the fluid she secretes when-!!!"

A great screech caused the Prince to yelp and jump backward, his torch falling onto the ground as a pair of scissors sharp pincers rose from the sand.

Cecil sprang, almost automatically, to the bard prince's defense, his blade already burning with the Dark Fire he utilized so often these days. When he struck the beast, however, it lashed out and cut through the metal of his breast plate as if it were lard. Luckily, it did not hit him, and he was able to get away with ruined armor.

Hissing, Cecil decided to try a different approach.

Dropping his hand to his side, he channeled the Dark Fire from his sword into the surface of his armor; manipulating the Darkness with all the skill of a seasoned veteran. Saturated by the Darkness itself, Cecil sent an arching wave of Dark Fire toward his target in a violet blaze.

It screeched and recoiled, but did not attack him with its pincers, seeming unable to determine where the attack had originated from.

"Magic attacks are effective," he muttered, then motioned to Rydia, who began to cast.

Looking for the Prince, Cecil found him, unhooking something from his belt clumsily. He pulled a traveler's harp from his side and began to strum, at first a bit shakily, but when he closed his eye, his song became loud and confident. The bard’s lips parted in song, and his voice was so angelic Cecil nearly forgot himself. Yet there were many things in the Knight's mind that drew him back to the battle, though he resolved to ask Prince Edward for a song later.

He was surprised to see that the beast was slumbering, and attributed it to the Prince's song. Looking at is as he channeled the Darkness once more, he saw that 'Antlion' was an appropriate name for a beast with the pincers of an insect and the fur of a feline.

Lightning stuck the monster and it hissed in confused frustration, rearing back so it stood on four of its six legs. A moment later, Cecil's arrack landed and it recoiled, slamming into the wall and dislodging chunks of dirt from the ceiling.

Cecil rolled and grabbed the forgotten torch, still burning, and waved it in front of the Antlion, who backed away, shouting. "Back! Get back!"

Having taken a beating, the creature burrowed back beneath the sand. A chord resounded before falling silent, and Cecil kneeled in the dirt to pick up the milky, opaque orb that glowed ever so slightly in the darkness. Standing, he found himself staring into the eyes of the Prince, who was smiling sheepishly at him, "let me take you to Kaipo."

"I was going to ask," Cecil looked at the pearl, still in his hand, and was amazed at how it stood out against the ebony of his armor; it reminded him of Rosa, pure and bright. "I will never reach her through the cave in a little over a day."

"Then we must hurry," the Prince went to his belt once more and removed the item satchel.

He took out a small vial filled with glowing powder and motioned for Cecil and Rydia to father near.

Uncorking the vial, he sprinkled it in a circle about them and dropped the vial on the ground. A moment later, Cecil's stomach lurched and his vision blurred a tingling spreading over the surface of his skin. He found it difficult to breather, and just when he thought he would pass out, his vision cleared and he found himself standing in front of the hovercraft.

Rydia and the Prince were both staring at him in concern, and after a moment he realized he was hunched over, wheezing.

"Sir Cecil?" the Prince asked, placing a hand on his back, but recoiling when the darkness crackled up to him. "Ah!"

Cecil un-strapped his helm and dropped it to the ground, "I ... am ... fine..." he panted, beginning to pull off his armor. Straightening his back, he turned to the bard prince, "help me burry this armor."

"What happened? You sound as if you've recovered."

Cecil dug his hands through the dirt, but the Prince stopped him, "we'll throw it into the sea."

"Yes," Cecil nodded, stowing away the armor in the front seat and pausing to lift Rydia into the back. He turned to the Prince and at last responded, "it was the spell. I ... I had some sort of reaction to it."

"That's normal," the Prince replied, looking oddly relieved. "I learned from my tutors that certain people are particularly sensitive to Magic, even if they are not Mages themselves."

With that settled they set out for Kaipo.

The journey seemed far too long for Cecil, who sat with the sand Pearl clutched in his hands. Rosa seemed so far away, and as the day waned he grew even more anxious. True to his word, the Prince threw his armor into the sea, through Cecil was so preoccupied he barely noticed.

They spent a majority of their day on the water, eating the rations that the bard prince had in his satchel. Rydia and the Prince talked a blue streak about Magic and other things that she had been learning about in school, and Cecil gathered that the Prince was a very educated man. Cecil himself was not. All he knew was that knowledge required from him to be a Knight, and though reading and writing were included, Cecil had never taken the time to enjoy them, as Rosa had.

It seemed to the Dark Knight an eternity until they reached the Kaipo Desert, the white moon full, and the red moon but a crescent, but he was relieved when they did. Never before had he wished so dearly to have an airship, which would travel much faster across the sand. When he saw Kaipo's burning torchlight on the horizon, time seemed to slow, and he clutched the dashboard eagerly. At this point, Rydia had fallen asleep, and he and the Prince flew on in silence, so Cecil could clearly hear the thundering of his own heart.

Before the hover craft had even landed, Cecil had jumped the side and was stumbling across the sands and through the gates. It was quite awhile before Rydia and the Prince caught up with him, and they may not have if he hadn't been halted in the market place by the press of bodies (how was it that it was still so busy this late at night?!).

He made it to the mansion where he was admitted by a frazzled maid who was wearing her nightcap slightly askew. He walked past her was quickly as he could without pushing her aside and proceeded into the foyer. The way to the room was not forgotten to him. Soon enough he entered and threw himself at the bedside, startling awake the old man, who had been slumbering on a chair he had set up at the foot of her bed.

Cecil was unsure of what to do with the pearl now that he was staring at Rosa (who looked far worse than when he had left her), could do nothing other than hold it lamely over her face.

When she opened her eyes to stare at him, however, he realized that simply shining its light upon her was the cure.

"Cecil," she whispered, her aquamarine eyes brimming with tears as she blinked them open. "Cecil, you're alive..."

Now that she was safe he could do nothing but nod, awash in his joy and the sudden buoyancy of relief. Instead, he placed a hand on the top of her head, which she took in both of her small hands and moved to her cheek; heat still burned there, though it was not a fatal heat.

"I told them you were alive, Cecil, I told them... I told them you couldn't possibly be dead," she choked, and Cecil pulled her into a one armed hug, placing himself on the bed beside her. "I just ... I was still so afraid that there was a chance... They were right."

"Shush, Rosa, it's all right," he brushed her thick hair from her face and smiled at her. "We're here now, and we're both fine, so stop your fretting"

Rosa's eyes lighted on Edward and Rydia, who stood awkwardly in the doorway, and she smiled beckoningly, "who are your friends, Cecil?"

"This is Rydia of Mist," Cecil held out his hand and Rydia, who rushed forward and took it, smiling up at him; releasing Rosa, he pulled Rydia into his lap, "and this is Prince Edward von Muir of Damcyan."

The old man blanched, and a flustered Rosa hastily straightened up and smoothed out her clothing, only to relax when she saw the Prince's easy going smile.

"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you," he bowed ever-so slightly at the waist. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Rosa," Cecil said suddenly, his face serious, "I have to go to Fabul."

"I'm coming with you," replied the White Magi, her eyes full of fervor. "I'll get my bow, we'll-" a spasm of coughs interrupted her speech, causing an anxious Cecil to grab her wrist.

"No, Rosa you're not well," his tone was insistent.

"Cecil," a hand on his back caused the Dark Knight to tense; the tone of voice was not one he had ever heard the Prince use before. It was firm, but with a note of pleading to it. "Rosa wants to be with you."

"Very well," Cecil resigned after a long moment of contemplative silence, "but we will rest first."

"You may stay here for the night, Sir, Milord," the elderly man humbly offered.

"Thank you," the Prince smiled, "let us go outside to discuss sleeping arrangements. Rydia, come along."

Rydia looked between Cecil and Rosa, grinned as if she knew something, then slipped from the bed and dashed after the bard prince and the man.

"She's darling," Rosa commented, and Cecil stood, to pull up the chair and sit at her bedside. there was a brief, hesitant, pause. "Cecil, did you really ... Did you really burn Mist to the ground? Kain said ... He said that you killed the people there, too?"

Cecil could not bring himself to look at her as he spoke; he stared at the headboard instead, "it is true. We massacred those people. It was the ring his highness gave us. It burned down the village."

"Oh, Cecil," Rosa sighed, drawing their hands together and staring at him with her big sea-foam eyes. She suddenly frowned at him, "you look terrible; when did you last sleep?"

"A full night?" he asked tentatively, and her frown grew.

"Cecil, why haven't you slept?" she scolded, "and what of your armor?"

He knew that she was not really upset about his armor, and that her displeasure was at the sword that still hung at his side, "I had to save you, Rosa, and you know all too well why I cannot forsake this blade."

"I wish you had never picked up that cursed sword," Rosa murmured.

Cecil did not say it out loud, but he did agree with her. Instead, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, breaking their contact, "how are you feeling?"

"Tired," she replied, "but I'm fine now, thanks to you."

He extended his hand, and she took it, smiling up at him. "I'm so relieved," he muttered, "I thought you were going to die."

"Oh, Cecil..." she sighed, placing her hand on the side of his face. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the
pleasure of leaning into her touch; it was an indulgence he surrendered to only because of his relief. "You have such a large heart."

The door opened and he pulled away, inclining his head only to hide his burning face. Rosa, he noted, was not flustered at all. "Yes?" she asked, facing the doorway.

"Our rooms are ready. I've come to get Cecil," the Prince announced.

Cecil stood, bid farewell to Rosa politely, and stumbled down the hallway, the weight of his exhaustion finally crashing down upon him. He was only vaguely aware as he crawled into bed, and fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Four: Fire from Heaven

Cecil had scarcely nodded off when he was jarred awake by the acute snapping of a twig and an utterance of surprise by Rydia. Frantically, he scuttled for his sword, but his muscles relaxed when he saw the girl splayed out on the ground, their scant pile of kindling scattered all about. It appeared she had only tripped.

“I didn’t mean to wake you!” she exclaimed when she saw him sitting up, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

The Dark Knight shook his head slowly and ran a hand through his hair, fighting off fatigue “, no, it’s all right. We’ve already wasted a full day. I cannot afford to sleep any longer; Rosa’s life depends on it.”

Rydia walked toward him and took one of his hands in both of her tiny ones “, then let’s go. I’ve already put away most everything except the tent.”

He blinked at her a few times, surprised by her maturity, then nodded and stood, blinking into the early morning sunlight.

The pair set out again soon after, Rydia insisting that she walk on her own. Cecil agreed only because of how cool it was, and because there was no longer any sand to encumber her. When she asked if she could carry some equipment, however, he told her no; he needed to move quickly, for Rosa’s sake.

Once they entered the cavern, Cecil found the floor to be slick with water. It seemed that the cavern was the home of a massive underground lake that plummeted deep into the earth. Now the two of them stood at the top of a well-worn path that descended into the deep darkness of the Earth herself.

Cecil’s eyes were quick to adjust to the poor lighting (as they always had. The knight thought he saw better in the dark sometimes.), and when he looked down at Rydia he was surprised to see her cupping a ball of glowing blue energy in her hands that crackled and zipped with tension.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I can help us see with this!”

The look on her face was proud, and Cecil chuckled, for a moment forgetting his worries and fears. Then he shook his head, “can you hold it up higher, please?”

Rydia nodded her head, but the light wasn’t very bright, and what little illumination it did provide was more of a hindrance than a help, as it caused Cecil’s eyes to no longer be adjusted. Still, for a child to be able to conjure an unwavering light … Cecil was no magician, but he thought that it might be unusual.

“Put it away and take my hand, Rydia,” he commanded after a moment of contemplating their choices. “Conserve your energies for more important things.” When she hesitated he smiled reassuringly at her. “We won’t fall. I can see in the dark.”

Nodding as if it were of the utmost importance, Rydia made the light disappear and then fumbled for his hand. Cecil stilled her gropes when he reached backwards with his left hand it took it for himself “, don’t be afraid. Just trust me and we’ll be fine.”

He led them down into the darkness, guiding the girl, whose steps became only a little surer as time went on. Cecil could not be sure how long they traveled through the gloom, but he felt Rydia shivering beside him. He could sense her fear of the inky darkness and what lurked there, feel the rise of the goose bumps on her skin from the cold that had began to penetrate her scant clothing, and hear the chattering of her teeth as she clambered, half blind, through the shadows.

Cecil himself stepped confidently through the pitch black cave, though the footing was unsure. He could hear the distant rushing of water; smell the scent of limestone and the more distant scent of most earth. He could see the details of the stone of the guide wall they walked along. Yet the cold could not hinder him. He did feel it bite at his skin, though it grew colder still as they descended further and further into the bowels of the earth, underneath the Damcyan Mountain Range.

After awhile in the shadows, Cecil saw a glow, and as they grew nearer he could detect the tell-tale wavering that identified it as the glow of fire. As they neared the source, Cecil saw the silhouette of what appeared to be a male form crouched upon a boulder. Rydia grew closer to him, clearly not fond of the idea that they would find someone else this deep underground, which became even more certain when he caught her frightened green eyes and held them.

“Trust me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand as they stepped into the circle of protective light, and into the line of sight of the man upon the rock.

He was an unremarkable looking elderly man, snoozing unobtrusively while sitting crossed legged atop a squat boulder, apparent by a sudden snort, made thunderous in the cavern. His face was lost in a sea of chaotic white hair, accompanied by a beard long enough that it touched the tips of his knees from where his head fell. His spectacles shone in the torchlight like two, blue coins, and the color of his long coat was the same pink of the cheeks of a blushing woman. The color stood out against the blue darkness of the cavern.

Cecil took another step toward him, but tensed when he felt the air draw up around him, filling itself with the static of Magic. With the reflexes of someone who was at the peak of his physicality, Cecil drew his sword and slashed downward, summoning the darkness. It met the nearly formed shot of freezing Magic in midair, creating a flash so bright that it momentarily blinded the Dark Knight.

When the light faded, Cecil was staring at the standing form of the squat old man, who was leaning on his gnarled oaken staff. He had a thoughtful frown upon his face and stroked his chin carefully ", so you're a
Dark Knight."

"And you're a Magi," replied Cecil, sheathing his sword and giving the man a bland look

"Don't be smart with me," snapped the man in his gravely voice. "I could use your help, and you, if I'm not mistaken, could use mine."

"Who are you?" demanded the Dark Knight, his stance suddenly defensive as he felt the drip of blood down his abdomen from his attack.

"That depends upon whom you ask," said the man, stepping forward. "Some say I'm a washed up old hat. Others say that I'm a Master of Magic. You, youngling, may call me Sage Tellah. Now, who are you? And what are you doing bringing your daughter into such a place?" the old man motioned to the rock he'd been sitting on only a moment before. "Sit down and let me see your ankle."

"What? No! Rydia is not my daughter!" Cecil protested.

The old man grabbed his arm and pushed him onto the boulder he had risen from only moments before, forcing him to sit. He then proceeded to snatch his ankle, examining it. "You're right. She's a Conjurer; clearly not related to you. Your Magics are completely different, although-" he paused and twisted Cecil's ankle around painfully. "Hm. Yes. I do sense a hint of the Divine about you. Tell me; were either one of your parents a Priest or Priestess in a religious order?"

"Divine? Priest in a religious order?" Cecil gasped as the man pulled on his ankle. "Stop that!"

"Respect your elder's boy!" the man held out his hand, fingers out spread over Cecil's ankle. "No, you don't know your parents. If you did, you would have been quicker to answer my question." He paused thoughtfully. "What was your name again?"

"I am called Cecil, but-" he ceased speaking as a feeling like a million pinpricks penetrated his leg and washed over his body in steady pulsations, though it was concentrated in his ankle.

"Hm. Blind one? Fascinating." The old man backed away, patting Cecil's ankle proudly; the feeling in Cecil's body subsided. "I wonder what your namers were thinking when they named you?"

"I was told I was named for my mother, in all likelihood," said Cecil, flexing his ankle and finding that no pain lingered there. "At least, the assumption is that Lady Cecilia Highwind was my mother."

"Highwind? Of the Baron Dragon Knights?" Ah, so you hail from Baron," his eyes narrowed as he looked the Dark Knight up and down. "Yes, there is a bit of Baroni in you features. Strong nose, bright eyes. The rest of you is purely divine, however. You don't have features like that and not have one of the Gods in your family tree somewhere."

"I'm sorry, but there must be a mistake. I am only a man."

The Sage Tellah snorted ", who did they tell you your father was, boy? A Baigan? A Monroe? A Johanson? What surname do you claim as your own?"

Cecil looked away form Tellah, hesitant to answer. Most people outside of Baron did not know the surname of the Royal Clan. This old man, however, was clearly not a commoner. In fact, if Cecil had to hazard a guess, he would guess that the man was from Mysida and had received commendations from the Brethian Order. At last, he answered ", Harvey. I am called Cecil Harvey."

"You're the orphan whelp of Baron? The princeling?" the man raised his bushy eyebrows. "I thought they kept the princeling locked away ever since he was captured by Troians. Quit pulling my leg!"

"I am not lying," he said, mildly offended. "I am not Baron's princeling, however. I never have been, and I certainly never will be." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I find it troubling, the number of misconceptions there are about me outside of Baron."

"If you are not the princeling, then what are you?" the man sniffed.

Impatience tingled down Cecil's spine ", a Dark Knight whose time you are wasting with idle chatter. I am trying to save the life of a dear friend and you are in the way."

"Ah, that brings me back to the point," Tellah crossed his arms over his chest assertively. "I could use your help, as well as the help of the girl, in defeating the beast that has made its home in this cave. I, too, need to reach Damcyan. My daughter's welfare depends upon it."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Cecil asked, grabbing Rydia's hand once more and pushing onward through
the gloom. "I've not a moment to waste. Time is of the essence."

"Indeed it is," asserted Tellah, scrambling after the Dark Knight, his oaken staff clicking against the rocks at a vigorous pace.

Cecil looked back, and then shook his head, pausing long enough for the man to catch up before the three companions plunged further into the darkness.

XXX

The Man of Darkness stepped down the hallways of Castle Baron, his feet bringing him to the top of the Northwest Tower, which had previously been inhabited by the man he now considered his enemy.

He placed his hand upon the oaken door, something at the back mind causing him to hesitate for the briefest of moments, but the fleeting second passed as iron claws once again enclosed themselves about his soul. It is nothing, he told himself, his billowing cape blown back as he flung the door open. It is only my imagination. This is nothing; only a gnat would dare oppose me, thinking more of its significance than it should.

He had made the trek here, despite his time restraints, because he wanted to know more about the man who stood against him. His new favorite pawn would divulge nothing more than words of hatred and bitterness. Others gave him even less, no matter is methods of persuasion he used. Thus Golbez had come, to the room of his enemy, that he may know the other's mind; surely he could not be a complicated man.

Golbez came first to the wardrobe, thrusting open the heavy doors and staring at its contents. Cecil Harvey, for all the pomp behind his title, had inexpensive, study clothing that suggested the humility of someone of a lower station. He owned only two, good, court worthy doublets, and one pair of good pants (though his military uniform was suspiciously missing). The rest of his clothing consisted of plain wool shirts of coarse weave that could not be very comfortable, and assorted leather armor that Golbez could only assume would provide protection on hunting trips. The most colorful pieces of clothing (beside for his dress doublets) were several solid colored bandanas that the Knight likely used to tie back his hair.

Finding nothing of interest in the wardrobe, Golbez turned to the small bed, which was an uncomfortable military issue cot. This suggested that the man was loathe of his position, or at least felt guilty because of it, being an orphan (as Golbez had gathered). Not a very prideful man himself when it came to the performance of menial tasks, the Dark Lord kneeled down and peered underneath the bed, finding a heavy, wooden box, sealed with an iron lock.

He pulled it from its hiding place, finding that the lock was already broken, making his job easier. Curiosity piqued, he opened the lid and found inside what he had been looking for all the long.

Within this box the Dark Knight kept his most precious memories. There were several carefully folded letters written on yellowed parchment, a girl's hair pin, long and silver, and an eclectic set of trinkets that ranged from a rusty thimble to a broken socket wrench. The Dark Lord removed a piece of parchment from its place and began to read; convinced he could find some fatal weakness that the young Knight possessed in its contents.

The writing upon the paper was neat and small, clearly masculine, though there were sketched in the margins very skillful observational drawings of fields and animals. It spoke of how Cecil was missed in Necrograd by everyone, and that he should come to visit in those airships of his. Golbez continued to read, deciding there was no information to gleaned from it. Boredly, he riffled through he other letters in a similar manner, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached something interesting.

It was the soft, curving handwriting of a young woman, but was somewhat sloppy, as if she'd been frantically scrawling it across the paper in a fit of intense emotion.

'Cecil, why won't you respond?!' It read. 'Kain and I miss you so! Please, Cecil, I'm so worried! I don't even know if you're still alive!'

After reading several more letters in the same stack, it became apparent to him what had happened; but only after what he remembered what Baigan had said of the boy and the Dark Blade. Cecil Harvey had suffered a Dark Taint so severe that he'd emotionally damaged himself beyond repair. It was doubtful that he would have been able to make new emotional connections for quite awhile after coming in contact with the sword, let alone remember his old ones. That he'd kept this letters meant that the girl must mean a great deal to him, for he had kept them, even through his brokenness. Of course, he would eventually remember his emotional bonds and be able to form them once more, but he would never quite be emotionally whole; he would never look at himself or the world the same way again. Golbez understood the Darkness very well, being of it.

Cecil Harvey was in love with this woman, this Rosa Farrell, and love was a most effective double edged blade.

Rosa was Cecil Harvey's weakness, and, as he recalled after another long moment, another Knight's as well.

Smiling satisfactorily to himself, the Dark Lord replaced the box and its contents and drifted down the stairs to sow the seeds of Cecil's destruction.

XXX

" - and that's why I must go to Damcyan," concluded Tellah.

Cecil was not really paying attention to the man; he was much too busy trying to find his way out of this cave to pay heed to Tellah's inane chatter. However, considering this was about the fifth time Tellah had told the story (he alternated between and stories about his daughter's childhood), Cecil had managed to pick up that Tellah believed a bard to be guilty of seducing his daughter and spiriting her away to Damcyan. In Cecil's experience, that was more likely the kind of thing that a Troian woman would do, or perhaps a particularly well dressed merchant, but bards were generally too wrapped up in their own music to be aware of much else.

Pivoting on his heel, Cecil, who was leading the way, reached out and pulled Tellah (and thus Rydia, who had taken to the old man and was holding his hand) behind him. Holding the sleeve of his jacket to stop him from galling into the shallow pool just below the path, Cecil had to use the left side of his body to block the lashing blow of the beast's tail. Unarmored, the thick, barbed tail left three deep gashes on his left arm, but in the heat of battle, all his sense sharp, he barely felt the sting of the blow. Releasing Tellah, he drew his sword, rushing forward while remaining wary of the footing; Cecil parried another blow from the tail of the great, scaly beast.

He dodged right as the clamp like jaws of the long, flat creature shot out at him, ruby red eyes glinting with hunger. Whipping out with his blade, Cecil cut the monster across its soft stomach, but it was resilient and lunged forward, thought its innards were spilling out. Cecil hissed, prepared to feel himself crushed between the jaws, but a flash of light struck the beast between the eyes, sending it, writhing, into the water.

Cecil turned to see Tellah, staff raised above his head, staring at the area where the beast had been only moments before. Suddenly, Cecil felt acute, stinging pain rush to his left side, all too aware of the three, horizontal cuts a long his arm. Hissing in pain, he stumbled forward, but didn't make it far before Rydia rushed to him, faltering a bit on the wet stones, but holding out her hand over his arms ", Cecil , let me help you."

Warmth rushed to his limb, strangely isolated in his arm. It was not like Tellah's tense energy, nor Rosa's naturally warm energy, but was very soft, and reminded him of the dappled sunlight that fought its way through the tree tops. Staring at the wounds, they seemed to evaporate into nothing, and he marveled as not even scars remained; Cecil supposed he was used to Dark Tainted wounds.

"It seems I'm always wounded now days," Cecil said lightly, trying to reassure Rydia. "Thank you. Both of you. I would have been part of that creature's diet if you hadn't offered your assistance."

Tellah sniffed, but his stance suggested he was proud ", let's get going. There's a chamber up ahead that it oft used for camping. I don't think any monsters will go near a place that is so filled with the scent of people."

Rydia took Cecil's hand this time as they pushed forward, Tellah leading the way boldly through the darkness; it was as if she were trying to reassure him. There was something that bothered Cecil about the attack, for this was a cave that saw frequented traffic, and such beasts were usually shy around humans.

Cecil suddenly felt as if there were something greater here than just Tellah's daughter in need. He wondered if the increased activities of the beasts were connected to the Crystals, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he was unable to come up with a reason for why that would be.

Discord is caused in the presence of Evil, said the voice within him, but he paid it no mind; it wasn't often that part of him had anything helpful to say.

The trio made it to the chamber without incident, and Cecil silently set up their camp while contemplating the breeze he felt drifting from further down the passageway. He hoped it meant they would be reaching the surface soon. While he could spend days underground without being terribly bothered, he worried for Rydia and Tellah, who were both vulnerable due to their ages. It would not do for either one of them to spend too much time underground.

They ate a bland meal of dry rations that did little to satisfy Cecil's hunger. Laying out the bed rolls, Cecil sat down and was soon aware of Rydia's soft breathing as he stared into the fire.

"It amazes me how quickly an exhausted child can fall asleep," said Tellah very softly. "She reminds me very much of my own Anna when she was a child."

Cecil glanced at him from the side, not responding; he was worried about Rosa. Every hour he wasted here was an hour that brought Rosa closer to death.

"Not very talkative, are you?" Tellah sighed, looking at the ceiling. "Ah to be a careless young pup again..."

"What manor of beast is it?" Cecil asked suddenly.

"Huh? What's that?" Tellah snapped his head toward Cecil, his eyes narrowed.

"The beast that's blocking the passage. What are we facing?" Cecil rephrased.

"Oh," Tellah paused. "A tentacled monster that is reportedly several stories tall. It-"

Cecil stood and began to shuffle through his pack, removing his mail shirt, his plate armor, and his helm. "Do you know how to work a clasp? It is difficult to put on the armor alone."

Tellah only stared at him, and it was Cecil found that it was his turn to sigh. 'I cannot fight a several story tall monster in my street clothing. I need you to help me with the clasps."

"You'll have to show me how," Tellah replied, and Cecil nodded, demonstrating how to fasten and unfasten the clasps.

"Practice while I put on my mail shirt."

Cecil removed his sword from his belt and placed it on the ground, dropping his own, heavy mail shirt over his head. It was something one of the novices would normally do, but all Knights had been in their novitiate at one point, and so they could all do it for themselves.

"You mentioned you were attempting to assist your friend," Tellah said conversationally.

"Rosa has fallen ill with desert fever," Cecil said, unable to keep his voice neutral. "I journey for The Sand Pearl, and Rydia is an orphan, and so she travels with me."

"And you truly are the Cecil Harvey who was raised by Baron's King?" Tellah asked as he helped Cecil battle with his breast plate.

"I am," Cecil replied. "Though I told you before that I am only a man. It does not matter."

They were silent as they worked to the rest of Cecil's armor one, other than Cecil's occasional instructions to the old mage. When it was finished, Cecil sat back down, though with some difficulty now that he was fully armored (he remembered how difficult that armor had been to move in when he first had earned it), and stared into the distance, his helm beside him.

"I am surprised that someone like you would choose the Dark Sword," Tellah commented after a very long silence; obviously, he was unable to sleep until he spoke what was on his mind. "You may have Darkness in your soul, but your soul itself is not Dark. As I said before, you have a hint of the divine about you. The Darkness doesn't strike me as the path someone like you would take."

"I did not choose the Sword," Cecil responded with a note of finality ", the Sword chose me."

This statement hung in the air until long after their campfire had died.

XXX

The next morning came silently.

Cecil woke after a brief rest, packed up what he could of their campsite, and woke his companions. After a small meal comprised of more rations, they headed out, Cecil's armor striking against the stone of the ground and echoing throughout the expanse of the cavern. A few hours of walking saw the companions stumble into the light, fresh air rushing to meet their faces. Rydia, her eyes quick to adjust to the sunlight, rushed forward into a lush valley that was just the sort of idyllic place one would expect this far away from civilization. Cecil followed her, removing his helm and falling to his knees by a nearby stream, casting aside his gauntlets and helm to splash cool water on his face. He had not been sleeping well or often, and it was starting to grate upon him, though Cecil knew his body would not fail; he had suffered worse at the hands of the Troian militants five years ago.

"We should take a short break," Tellah suggested form behind him. "I think you need it, lad."

As much as Cecil would have liked to protest, he thought it might be nice for Rydia to be able to rest for awhile before delving back into the underground. They would walk the mile across the valley in only a short while, so he supposed it would not hurt to rest for about half an hour.

"I agree," Cecil said, watching as Rydia ran through the flowers nearby, laughing; it made him feel very much at peace.

Tellah sat beside him ", you carry quite the burden on your shoulders, don't you? You carry yourself like a seasoned war veteran, not a youthful Knight."

Cecil stared at Tellah for a long moment before choosing to answer ", in Baron, most young people have been serving their country in some capacity for two years by the time they are my age. I have been serving for four. Such is the case with most Dark Knights."

Tellah chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment, then he spoke ", at first I wasn't sure I would like you. You're a bit sullen, and you're angry." Cecil was about to protest, but the old mage held up a finger to silence him. "But I can see in you a light unlike any other. It's as if you're the reflection of Gaelach himself. Ultimately, I think you and I could become great allies."

Cecil looked at Tellah, recalling Maude's words. "I am no godling, Tellah, but I will do what you ask. I can tell you care deeply for your daughter, and I do not want you to loose someone who means so much to you; not when I know the pain of loss so sharply."

Tellah stared at him, as if he wanted to say something, but then shook his head and joined Cecil in watching Rydia.

They left only a little while later, Cecil invigorated with his promise to Tellah, and more determined than ever to save Rosa. Together the three companions made their way underground once more, but were soon hindered by the rushing of an underground waterfall.

"The creature should be at the bottom, but it appears the path downward has collapsed,” observed Tellah.

"What do we do?" Rydia asked looking expectantly up at Cecil; Tellah, too, was looking to Cecil for direction.

"It appears we must jump," replied the Dark Knight. "I don't believe the drop will be fatal."

Rydia steeled her jaw ", then let's go. We have to save Rosa and Tellah's daughter."

Tellah stared at her admiringly, nodded, and stepped into the shallow pool, allowing himself to be carried away by the roaring currents. Rydia cast Cecil a nervous glace, gulped, and then followed the old magi's example. Without another thought otherwise, Cecil himself stepped off of the ledge. Cool air rushed up to meet him, and he adjusted his body mid-flight so that he would not break every bone in his body upon impact with the water below. Luckily enough, the water wasn't terribly deep or terribly shallow, and Cecil was able to surface and stand up after he had hit the waves below.

"Let's head this way," Tellah replied once he had resurfaced. "I want to get this over with."

Nodding silently, Cecil removed his helm, feeling that he had water in his armor, weighing him down ', yes, though we may be hindered by the- Wait, Rydia! Rydia, where are you?!" He suddenly called, frantically, fearing for the little girl's safety.

"Here!" called a small voice, and the two men looked up to see Rydia sitting atop a large rock, waving wildly at them. "I found a path!"

At turtle's pace, Cecil sloshed his way through the chest deep (on him, in any case. The water, at over five feet, made it all the way up to his meager 5'10" chest, short, for a man with the blood of a Baroni noble.) water to the girl, hoisting himself, and then Tellah, up onto the rock.

"Excellent work, girl!" commended the mage, his beard dripping with water: Rydia smiled.

Cecil, sitting on the rock, removed his gauntlets leg plates, sighing as the cumbersome water was released from its metallic prison. Quickly but efficiently, he replaced the armor and stood ", we can't be far off from the exit now. It's best we just follow this pathway."

Again, the companions set out, finding a light bright enough to be the rays of the sun originating form a single point after they had traveled for only a few hours. Cecil felt his muscles tense in ridged anticipation of a fight as they came to the end of the path. He stopped short of the edge, but Tellah strode forward, into the water, prompting a fat, yellow tentacle to raise form the depths, dancing like a snake about to attack.

Cecil launched himself from the top of the rock, battle instinct flaring. He barely felt his own weight as he flew through the air and landed with a splash in the shallows, drawing his sword. He parried the blow of the tentacle that had been about to strike Tellah, though he had some difficulty planting his feet in the water.

He heard Rydia's splash into the water, causing him to spin around. "No! Stay there! Cast from a distance!"

Her green eyes widened at his half-barked order, but she obeyed nonetheless.

He then turned to Tellah. "Get back, now!"

He didn't look to see if Tellah had obeyed. Instead, he turned, replacing his visor and mouth guard as the beast rose form the depths, its eyes glowing white as it grinned a cait sith's smile. With it rose eight, sleek tentacles, each posing its own deadly threat, though Cecil deduced its gigantic head was its weak point.

"Tellah! Thunder spells aimed at the head! Rydia!" he ordered in true military fashion. "Healing! I will distract the beast!"

Perceiving him, its previous attacker, as the greatest threat, three tentacles shot out at him, one from the left, another from the right, and the last from above. Stepping backwards with a few quick back steps, two of the tentacles slammed into one another at full speed. The other adjusted its trajectory and made its way for Cecil's head. Cecil pivoted as it dove downward, narrowly missing his chest by a margin of feet. Wiping his blade, the Dark Knight briefly felt the resistance of flesh, but no bone made his sword slide through the limb as if it were made of no more than warm lard.

An earsplitting shriek emanated from the great beast as it withdrew its arm, its dark green blood pooling beneath the water. Furious, it attacked with five of its remaining arms. Concentrating, Cecil moved to dodge each tentacle. One was nearly victorious in pummeling him when he made a near-fatal miscalculation. However, he was able to correct at the last second and jump away, landing in a crouched position in the water.

Glancing upward sharply when he heard the rumble of thunder, the young Knight saw that Tellah had somehow conjured a storm inside the cave. Its dark clouds turned the water green as gale forced wind caused it to throw itself against the beast, battering the creature, who roared in sudden confused fury, turning its attention toward Rydia.

Allowing Darkness to saturate his limbs, Cecil threw himself in the way of the attack, blocking the three tentacles with his sword. He was only able to stave off the strength of the monstrosity because of the Darkness that churned through him, sinking deep in his stomach. He could feel blood dripping down his shoulder blades, down his abdomen, and down his arms as he made a grunt of exertion, flinging the tentacles away with a display of god-like strength.

Just in time, Tellah's cloud burst, a great flash of blue momentarily blinding the Dark Knight as the sound of a terrible shriek filled the cavern, deafening him. Soon, the noise turned into a soft wail before it petered into nothing all together, leaving Cecil with the smell of burnt fish filling his nostrils.

Once more, Rydia's soothing Magic rushed over his muscles and his wounds evaporated into nothing. Tellah made his way toward Cecil and offered him a hand. "You've won my respect, young man. I've never seen such a display of swordsmanship in all of my life, and I've met some impressive men."

Cecil took the hand offered, though he assisted Tellah a bit in hoisting him to his feet. "I've not seen a spell that powerful since I was last in Mysidia during the Lunar Festival. I believe I was ten years old, at the time."

"To be honest, I was lucky to recall the spell," Tellah held out his hand to Rydia. "Let's get out of here. Anna and Cecil's Lady await."

They made their way around the deep water the monster had clipped into, dead, and out into a wave of heat that Cecil knew very well was not the worst of the desert day. Looking toward the twilight sky, Cecil saw something that made his blood run cold.

Smoke.

"No!" Setting off at full speed up a sandy incline, he cast his helmet and gauntlets to the ground.

In the sky hung a formation he knew all too well, having been one of its advocates, from a tactical standpoint. Flying toward him were five dark shapes that became clearly defined as airships as they moved nearer.

When the roar of propellers at last filled his ears, he tore his eyes form the blood red airships and out into the desert, where the tell-tale orange red glow of a Red Wing's fire bombing hung on the horizon.

Safrom was burning.

He was too late.

Baron had Damcyan's Crystal.

Christmas 2010 Extra: The Longest Night

"Sing of joy, of joy tonight!" chorused a plethora of drunken voices, rising to the ceiling and then falling from it again in a deafening echo that shook the foundations of the very room. "Sing boldly on this Longest Night! For long ago our God did rise- Up and up to lofty skies!"

The small, square headquarters of the Baron Red Wings was filled to the point of bursting with men, all garbed in their traditional armor; the red surcoats, bronze armor, and maroon capes emblazoned with the Harvey family's Coat of Arms. They were crowded around a table where the only man in the room who was not wearing red sat, smiling brightly as he tipped back a tankard filled with cider, stored from this year's particularly prosperous Harvest Festival. Unlike the other men he was clearly sober, but he sang the loudest out of them all.

"And so we sing of our great love- For our Mighty God in Heaven above! And we conclude with day in sight! We have rejoiced this Longest Night!" The song drew to a close and the men all clapped and hooted, slapping the man at the table on the back.

He smiled at them, leaning back his chair and propping it up on two legs as he slung his heavy black boots up onto the table. He leaned back his head and raised his mug up into the air, proclaiming in his crisp, clear tenor ", A toast, Red Wings! A toast to Baron! May she prosper long under King Thomas!"

All at once The Red Wings raised their own mugs, most of them sloshing with Baron's notorious golden ale, and parroted in voices full of virile pride, "to Baron! May she prosper long!"

"Unfortunately," said the seated man with a small frown, dropping the chair to two legs ", I must take my leave of you now, my fine gentlemen. You see, I am required to go to the Banquet tonight, though I'd much rather stay here with you. Between you and me, you are much more enjoyable than the Court Families."

"Captain, come back before you retire," said one of the Red Wings in a deep voice. “The Red Wings always throw the best parties, and you really know how to relax, sir!"

"Unlike Captain Marx," muttered another from the back of the room, and the Captain laughed, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I will be sure to come and see you again, gentleman, you have my word!" he stood fluidly, placing his gloved hands on the table and peering up at his men from underneath his black headband ", but until then I must bid you adieu."

As he made his way through the press of bodies, disappearing among men who were all several inches taller than he, but none who seemed to carry themselves with the same sort of dignity, the Red Wings cheered him on. It was apparent that the men all adored their young Captain, though he was green, for his ardent pursuit of his Knightly duties as well as the firm yet temperate manor in which he led them. If any man be both mild-mannered and deadly it was their Captain.

At last he broke free of the room and into the night air outside of the castle, only to enter the nearby North Western tower, moving as fast as his legs could carry him. Reaching the top, the young man threw open the bedroom door to find a fine doublet of black silk already laid out on his bed, along with a pair of freshly laundered pants, his good pair of boots, newly shined, a crisp white undershirt, and an ornamental diadem that made him frown.

"You'd best hurry," said a smooth voice from behind the door, causing the Captain to jump.

"Don't sneak around, Kain!" hissed the man, throwing his other clothing onto the floor as he changed into his dress garb. "I always wear my sword and I can't guarantee I won't mistake you for an assassin!"

"As if you could kill me, Cecil," said the one called Kain with a haughty smile, his nearly amber eyes glinting from the darkness.

"I think you underestimate my skills, my friend," Cecil placed the diadem on his head, trying to make it as neat as he possibly could without the use of a mirror, or, even more desirable, a maid. "How do I look? Princely?"

"Passable," Kain smirked, handing Cecil a ball of black fabric. "Don't forget your cloak. If you're not wearing it I think Rosa is likely to kill you."

"Passable is good," Cecil said, ignoring Kain's comment. "Passable says 'I am here out of the goodness of his heart, not because I want the position,' don't you think?"

"Either that or it says 'I'm too lazy and spoiled to care how I impress on my adoptive father, who just happens to be The King of Baron,'" Kain pointed out, and Cecil frowned at him. "What? You asked, and I gave an honest response."

The two were practically jogging now down the corridors of Castle Baron, nearing the Banquet Hall. The two slowed to a walk when they saw torch light ahead, bathing the stone hallways in a sunset orange glow. They were met by a young woman with blonde hair so thick that her hair piece barely restrained it. The look on her face was stern. "What are you two doing, showing up so late? Don't you realize that it's nearly time to begin? I expected better from both of you, especially-!"

"Is now really the time to be arguing?" asked another voice from behind the two young men. "Hello, Lady Farrell, Sir Highwind, Sir Harvey, how are you this evening?"

"Oh, Sir Monroe," Cecil saluted the man, who was a respected member of the Dark Knight Corp. "It's good to see you back in Vangrad. How are your daughters?"

The middle-aged man smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. "Why don't you ask them yourself, Young Sir, they're here today."

"Rosa! Rosa, come here! We need to find our seats!" from the direction of the large doors rushed a tired looking woman in a pink bodice. "Hello Young Master Highwind," the woman curtsied ", and you, too, Harvey." She nodded vaguely

Cecil was expecting much worse, usually she did not acknowledge him at all, but as Sir Monroe was here she was clearly trying to be polite and give a good impression. Though he did not blame her, he had been inadvertently responsible for Rosa's father's death, though he thought there might be a bit more to her coldness than that, at times.

"Mother, be polite, Cecil is-!" Rosa hissed under her breath, but Cecil shook his head.

"Hello, Matron Farrell," Cecil said, bowing low. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay in your presence any longer. I'm afraid his Highness will be expecting me." he turned to Sir Monroe. "I am pleased to see you again, Sir Monroe. Hopefully we will have more time to chat later. “He smiled at Kain and took Rosa's hand, pressing his lips to it chastely. “I’ll talk to you later, Kain, Rosa."

Cecil walked confidently up to the twin doors and was admitted noiselessly by the guardsmen. As soon as he stepped into the vast, torch lit, banquet hall, he was pulled into the nearest crowd of gossiping nobles by Sir Baigan, who hissed into his ear ", where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

"Was I?" Cecil asked innocently. "Well, I must have lost track of time. I'm sorry, Sir Baigan."

"Don't you 'Sir Baigan' me, you-!"

"Cecil!" bellowed the voice of the King, and Cecil was liberated from Baigan's grasp.

Cecil found himself underneath the arm of the King, whose surcoat was a deep maroon, the Harvey Family Coat of Arms emblazoned nobly upon his breast in stunning gold. "I am sure you all remember Cecil? He was only a whelp when you saw him last, but after a brief two year absence he has grown into a man before my eyes."

The King looked down at him with eyes full of pride and love, and Cecil felt himself automatically shrink from such a gaze. He felt unclean before the splendor of a man so noble and kind.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Cecil said.

The King's smile only widened. "Yes, Cecil is already a Dark Knight, you know! Amazing, he is, a real prodigy!"

"Aye, Cecil," said a friendly voice from beside him. "Yer' kids always grow up too fast. I know how he feels."

Cecil turned to see Cid, smiling at him with kind eyes from beyond the ginger avalanche of his beard. He smiled at Cid in return and was about to respond, but the King beat him to it. "Cid, old friend! I'm so glad you could be here tonight!"

"And miss the celebration?!" Cid gasped. "Yer' Highness, you are talking to a man who loves ale more than anything else in the world, excepting airships and his daughter. And 'sides, how could I turn down the invitation of a king?"

Cecil looked at the King and saw, for the first time, Thomas Harvey, an aging man who had found contentment in his later years. It was a contentment he'd never found in his youth. The King looked at the others surrounding them, including Cid, and told them ", if you don't mind leaving Cecil and myself now. I have some things that I'd like to talk about with him in private. Come along, Cecil, the balcony overlooking Lake Baron is this way."

Cecil tailed the king, stepping out onto the balcony. Two guardsmen in vogue moved to stand watch at the twin doors that opened up to the moon bathed stones. Thomas Harvey shut the two doors behind them securely, removed his diadem, and sat on the stone bench against the wall, patting it as a sign that it was okay for Cecil to sit as well.

"I remember one of the last times I was up here during The Longest Night feast when I was yet a young man. I had several others with me then. Matthew Farrell sat over there," he pointed to the other bench, to their right. "Devon Monroe was at his feet, talking about his intentions to start a family. Richard Highwind was standing behind his sister, Cecilia Harvey, my wife, making sure she didn't do something careless and fall." Thomas closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, smiling tiredly, sadly, as if he longed with all his heart to be able to turn back the clock to those times. "Next to me, where you are now, sat a man that I was very much curious about. His name was Kale Hansen, and he was the strangest man I have ever met."

Cecil watched the king's face intently, looking for signs of what he would say next. Cecil knew of these people, he'd just talked to Devon Monroe, and he had known Sir Richard and Sit Matthew; they had been very much alive until the events two years ago. Of course, everyone knew of Cecilia Harvey, for her story was very much a scandal. She had been married to the king, but he had annulled their marriage and banished her from the kingdom for reasons that no one seemed to know. The last man, however, this Kale Hansen, Cecil had never heard of before. The king opened one eye and peered at Cecil from it. "I very much believe that Kale was your true father, and I have always postured that Cecilia was your mother."

Cecil could not find the words to reply with, and the king seemed to understand, for he closed his eye again and turned his face ever so slightly away. Softly, he continued to speak. "There are not too many men in the world with hair made of moonlight, Cecil, and skin that is as soft and white as snow that will surely begin to fall before the night is over. Kale was one of them, and with those eyes of yours, Cecilia's eyes, I truly believe that you are their son." A stricken look passed over the king's features, even though his eyes were closed. "So, for this reason I wanted to apologize to you. It is because of Cecilia's love for Kale that I annulled our marriage and banished her from Baron. It is my weakness in being unable to accept that the woman I loved was not meant for me that undoubtedly ended their lives and orphaned you. After all, I have no doubt that, had they stayed in Baron, the country would have protected them. Cecilia and Kale alike were both strangely beloved by people everywhere they went."

"I don't remember them ,sir," Cecil said after a long pause in which the king's predicted snowflakes began to fall; it was going to be a very light snow fall, Cecil noted. "So there's no need for you to apologize to me for anything. All I remember is Baron."

"I know that's not true, Cecil," Thomas chided in the way all father's chide their sons. “I know for a fact that you just told me a lie."

Cecil turned his face toward the king's and met his eyes unflinchingly. "I don't know if that's really a memory, sir. It could just be a fantasy, something I fabricated so that I could imagine I had some kind of happy childhood before Baron."

"But it's all you have. You shouldn't dismiss it so lightly."

Cecil closed his eyes and pictured in his mind the face of the man he thought might be his father for one fleeting moment, smiling and laughing at him. Of his mother he had no memory, only the ring that he always had on his person, even if he was not wearing it. "I feel as if he still exists, even if he is not truly alive, or on this plane. And I wonder why he would leave me in the forest to die."

Thomas seemed to think for awhile before he spoke, his voice cutting through the dark, cold night, releasing wispy, white steam into the air. "I don't believe Kale would have abandoned you, Cecil. He may have been one peculiar man, but he was not the sort to ever abandon someone he considered family. Devon, Richard, Matthew and I learned it when he saved us from deadly attack after deadly attack when our airship went down over the Adamant Isle. No, whatever happened to that man, your father, he likely had to be cleaved from you."

"Then, you are saying that he loved me," Cecil near whispered, and to his surprise the king suddenly looked very sad.

Gently, he placed a hand on Cecil's shoulder and stared him in the eyes ", Cecil, I know how The Dark Sword crushed you, but you still must realize that there are those in your life who love you dearly." Grimly, he added ", what happened in Petuin was not your fault. Those people loved you as well, or they would have not gone to save you. Darias adored you, Cecil, and couldn't wait until the day you joined the military ranks; he wanted to serve with you. Leia Pollendina thought of you as a son, and Matthew and Richard couldn't have loved you more if they had wanted to, even if Richard was reluctant to show it." Smiling, he moved his hand to the top of Cecil's head. "And Rosa and Kain love you now, as does Lord Monroe, and Cid, and myself. You are not as alone as you think you are, my son."

"Father-" Cecil began, but stopped himself when he realized what he had said. He had sworn he would never call Lord King Thomas Harvey that, that he would try not to think of the man before him in such a way, but it seemed that it was inevitable.

Thomas smiled at Cecil and patted his head affectionately, picking his diadem up off of the stone bench and standing. "I shall consider that your Longest Night gift to me, as I know you always forget to get gifts." Cecil began to stutter, but the King's robust laughter silenced him. "Let us go, Cecil, and partake in the festivities. I fear my old bones grow cold," he sighed wistfully. "Oh, to be young again..."

Cecil dutifully followed the King, his father in all but blood and title, into the banquet hall, eager to be with those who loved him, and whom he loved in return.