Chapter Six: Ice and Fire

A/n: I am making the assumption that their society is a bit more advanced and hygienic than your average feudal society; thus, the talk of baths and other general elements of hygiene

Cecil woke to light streaming through an open window and the sound of Edward's soft humming drifting from somewhere nearby. Opening his eyes fully, he sat up and stared at the bard-prince, who was sitting on the bed adjacent to him, lacing up a pair of traveler's boots.

"Did you sleep well, Cecil?" the blonde man asked, placing his hands on his knees and smiling; Cecil thought he seemed different than he had the day before, far more confident.

"What time is it?" the Dark Knight asked, rubbing the back of his head and turning his gaze to the spacious room about him. He noticed his tunic and boots strewn on the floor, but could not remember placing them there. He supposed such was the consequence of being so physically exhausted the night before.

"Midday," replied the bard. "Get up. We are in need of supplies." Edward's honey colored eyes lighted on Cecil's frayed tunic and stained white undershirt, "It seems you are also in need of new clothing. You must be presentable before we travel to Fabul or you'll never get an audience."

Cecil knew that Edward was right. He would need a change in wardrobe if he was to make the right impression, but with what money would this wardrobe be purchased? It mattered little. As was, he hadn't bathed in five days and his hair hadn't been trimmed since before he'd left Baron. Combined with the fact that his clothing was less than presentable, and he ended up looking more like a bandit than a somewhat reputable Lord of Baron. "Is there a bath somewhere?" Cecil questioned, standing up to retrieve his things from the floor. "I feel like I spent the last several nights sleeping in a pigsty."

Edward nodded. "I've already asked the maids here to draw one for you," he smiled, finishing his work with his boots. "I figured you might say as much."

"Thank you," Cecil inclined his head and asked the bard prince for directions, quickly navigating the halls of the mansion to the spacious washroom; a place far more extravagant than the simple, practical rooms he was used to.

Shutting the door behind him, Cecil stripped completely and sunk into the steaming water, immediately relishing the feeling of heat on his joints. He hadn't even begun to scrub down, and already he felt better, cleaner. Though the Knight felt particularly indulgent that morning, he did keep in mind that Edward was waiting for him, and so he did not linger to soak, though he truly wanted to, feeling rather silly for thinking so.

Cecil was not usually one to enjoy things such as baths, they were simply just procedural, but he was beginning to appreciate the simpler things in life. In Baron, he'd held a position where bathing had never been a problem, but on the road it was an entirely different story. It would be false to say that he did not miss the convenient amenities life in Baron offered; at least not when he was filthy and road-worn.

He dressed silently, though he secretly wished he had fresh clothes to change into, and buckled his own boots, sitting on a stool not far from the heavy metal wash basin. Standing, he tied his hair back with a scrap of frayed black cloth, piling the long, pale, wet strands atop his head. He longed for newer, stronger cloth, but knew even turban cloth would be too expensive for his current budget, which had a balance of nothing and now even his armor was gone.

So far was the Dark Knight within his own thoughts that he did not notice the presence of a certain White Magi when he exited the room until he had already collided with her.

"Rosa," he held out his hands to steady her. "Forgive me! It seems I wasn't-"

"It's quite all right," she assured, shaking her head and smiling fondly. "You were so involved in your thoughts that you didn't notice me."

Cecil could not find words to respond to her, but he had no need to, for Edward came down the hall at that precise moment. "I would advise purchasing multiple outfits," Edward said, excusing the both of them and leading Cecil down the halls and into the midday sun. "Oh, what am I thinking? You must be famished!" He shook his head, and again Cecil noted how much more relaxed he seemed since the night before.

They had set off toward the market place far from the Mansion District, setting a leisurely pace.

"What happened?" Cecil asked him as they crossed a bridge into the market place, where the press of bodies could be overwhelming. "You seem very ..." Cecil made a vague gesture with his hands, wondering how to convey what he was thinking.

Prince Edward smiled serenely, "Do you believe in the afterlife, Cecil?"

Cecil noted the bard prince playing with a strand of his hair, his eyes possessed of that strange, far-off look. It was very different from the tone of forced cheerfulness he had taken on yesterday. "I saw Anna last night, and she told me to be strong and move on from her." His eyes locked with Cecil's, "To be honest, I was planning on moving on from this life after I assisted you in saving Rosa, but now ..." He smiled genuinely, though the smile was marked with sadness. "You are such a good person, a brave person, and I want to learn from you. I want to help you any way I can, and I know my beloved would want me to, as well."

Cecil patted Edward's shoulder and smiled softly. Though he did not know if he believed Edward's tale of Anna's ghost, he was glad that the bard prince had found some hope. "Any assistance you can offer would be appreciated, Prince Edward." He paused, and then spoke, choosing his words very carefully. "Why did you share that with me?"

Edward's eyes widened, as though it should be obvious, "I wanted us to become friends, and I felt you deserved to know, as you're our leader."

Cecil felt his own eyes widen in response, "I -" he closed his eyes and then spoke again. "I suppose I am the leader. I haven't given it any thought."

"Do you know what you're going to say to King Lao?" Edward led the Dark Knight to a small stall, where dried and seasoned lamb hung from the tent flap; just the scent made him hungry. Yes, it would be good to eat a real meal instead of tasteless rations.

"I haven't thought about that, either," Cecil admitted, surprised when Edward handed over the Gil for the food. "You don't have to –"

"Nonsense. I may like anonymity, but I have entirely too much Gil, and cannot possibly spend it all on myself. I insist."

"At least allow me to pay you back," Cecil took the meat despite his protests; he was far too hungry to deny it, and it would be a waste otherwise. "I'll feel guilty for the imposition otherwise."

"It's not an imposition, Cecil," said Edward, as if they had been friends all their lives rather than having met only yesterday. "My family controls the money flow in Damcyan. If I so desired, I could invest in trade with any country in the world and earn back ten times the profit. The money for food, supplies, clothing … It's hardly a drop in the barrel!"

"Still, I feel as if I am spending another man's money." Cecil took a bit of the meat, finding it was every bit as flavorful as it was aromatic. After a moment, he spoke again. "It's why I never took advantage of any of his highness's generous offers." He sighed, correcting himself, "I don't want you to think I am not grateful, but I am the man who prefers to make his own way in this world, not the man who takes handouts from others."

Edward played with a strand of his hair thoughtfully, his face subdued, "Then you must consider it a gift; between friends."

Cecil closed his eyes, but nodded reluctantly, "I'll consider the clothing a gift, but you will accept payment for the food at some point."

Edward laughed softly at him, "I suppose that's fair enough."

The two men traversed farther down the crowded street, and Cecil was fascinated by how different it was from Vangrad and Necrograd. Merchants shouted out their wares and the prices, and most shops were open stall or tented, their goods out in the open, displayed proudly for the world to see. It was chaos compared to the neatly labeled indoor shops of his home country, where advertisements were announced by herald or flyer.

Edward moved in on a large, mauve tent, dragging Cecil with him by the cuff of his sleeve. His eyes had locked in on the place with hawk-like precision, and Cecil realized as soon as they stepped into the dimly lit, heavily perfumed, and distinctly stuffy interior that the prince was a bargain hunter as well as a monarch.

A woman with tanned skin and very little clothing sat in the center on the tent, lounging about on an old sofa covered in an overabundance of jewel toned fabric. When she saw them, her sage green eyes began to smolder, and she smiled knowingly, "Ah, Edward dear. It seems your scruffy looking friend needs new clothing and a shave."

Cecil ran his hand over his face and felt the scratchy stubble there, surprised at its presence. He had never had to worry about shaving very often before, but it had been quite awhile, and the thought had not crossed his mind earlier this day.

The woman snaked her way from the couch, her sheer skirts swimming about her hips as she ambled toward him, "I must know your sizes, Mister …?"

Cecil looked down at his hands, where there were little white scars on his knuckles, "I'm sorry, I do not know. And my name is Cecil, madam."

"Then you must take your tunic and your shirt off, Cecil. I need your sizes," she ordered, and he bashfully did so, seeing no other choice and no way of escape.

Her eyes grazed his form appreciatively, and he felt himself turn what he was sure was a very unflattering shade of red. She took his clothing as if it was a dead animal, and then she turned to Edward, "Let's talk prices and materials, Edward, darling."

Edward shook his head, "I'm sorry, Claudia, but we're in a hurry. May I see the samples?"

"You want to see samples, Edward?" she arched a dark eyebrow at him, placing a hand on her hip. "There are some people who should not wear samples, and this man is one of them. Though his tastes are undoubtedly simple, there is no excuse for purchasing him something that does not suit him ..."

They went on like that for quite some time, and Cecil, uninterested in the heckling, took to examining the interior of the tent, though there was not much to look at. Rolls of fabric were propped up against what appeared to be a wardrobe, and changing screens lined the far end of the tent. A large, frayed, and faded rug patterned in a Fabulian style lay on the dusty ground, upon which sat this Claudia's sofa. Cecil found he felt as uncomfortable here as he did in front of the noble families back home; awkward, as if he were some obscene thing to be gawked at, not a person.

The woman laughed, jolting him from his thoughts. When he turned, a look of mischief filled her eyes. "Our bard friend insists on a simple size matching from my samples, but I would like to make for you a dress tunic." She moved over to him, seeming to have an idea already circulating in her mind. "A lovely sage would set off your eyes, you know," she purred the way all women did when were pleased about something. "And with a silver thread!"

"I told Claudia that we couldn't afford-" Edward began, but the woman rounded on him.

"If money is an issue, I will give it to you, but I must work for this man!" She cast Cecil a gaze that made him feel as if he were a piece of meat that she wanted to eat. "It is not everyday that someone with features such as his just waltzes into my shop," Claudia took his hand. "Men are usually so tedious to design for, but this one ..."

"Well, if you insist," Edward sighed, and Cecil marveled at his sudden ability to act as if he were burdened; was this a normal part of being a Damcyite?

"The samples are back in that corner," she pointed vaguely to the northwest corner of her tent. "Take the agreed upon items and then get out! I must work!" she released Cecil's hand and shoved him his clothing, which he was more than happy to return to its proper place on his back. "Come back before supper and I will have it done."

Following Edward to the corner she had directed them to; it did not take long to find what they were looking for. They left a moment later, Edward's arms filled with three tunics, an undershirt, and a new pair of black pants, on which he had bargained the price down to practically nothing.

Cecil blinked in the intense light as Edward dragged him back toward the mansion. "We'll go to drop this off, and then I'll take Rydia to purchase the rest of the supplies. You must spend more time with this lady of yours." The bard prince's eyes suddenly took on a sad, wistful look, "She seems to be so lovely."

"I'm sure the two of you will get along quite well," Cecil assured Edward. "She's a very kind, educated, well-mannered woman. Her family is one of the oldest in Baron, after all," it amazed Cecil how boastful he sounded of Rosa.

Edward's laughter echoed across the empty Mansion District as he pulled open the doors to the blue mansion, revealing Rydia, who was scrambling around the foyer, pink faced and laughing, while Rosa chased after her. Cecil, as easily as if he'd been doing every day of his life, reached down and scooped the green haired girl into his arms. "Edward wants to ask if you'd like to go shopping with him," he said as Edward handed the clothing to a maid and whispered polite directions to her.

Rydia peered around Cecil's neck, giving Edward a critical look ,"Why can't he ask me himself?"

"Girls as beautiful as you make him nervous, Rydia. We must be considerate of that," said Cecil, Rydia's giggle's drowning out his voice.

"You can tell him its okay, but he has to ask me himself next time!"

"Rydia says-" Cecil jokingly began, but Edward's laughter cut him off, and the Dark Knight placed the girls on the floor.

She rushed over to Edward and took his hand.

"Bye, Rosa! Bye, Cecil!" called Rydia as she waved over her shoulder; Cecil waved back.

When he turned back to Rosa, he found a look on her face that he could not fathom. Her lips were curved into a kind smile, and her eyes were shining. "Rosa, what's wrong? Why are y-?"

"Oh, Cecil," she sighed, taking his arm and leading him away; to where, he'd no idea, but he supposed it didn't matter. "You're so good with children. You'd make an excellent father."

He felt himself blushing for a reason very different than he had in the tent, and she laughed playfully at him, tweaking his nose in their childhood tradition. "I'm not so sure, Rosa."

"Don't be silly, Cecil. I have a woman's intuition when it comes to these matters; a clear advantage over you."

At her joking tone he relaxed and bumped their shoulders together. "A woman's intuition? You're right, I can't possibly compete."

She returned his quip with one of her heart stopping smiles, "You have to see the gardens, Cecil. They're so peaceful, and I think they'll do you good."

"Summer is fast waning," he commented as they exited into a small, lush, garden, clearly very well kept by the staff here. "Soon, the Harvest will be in full bloom back at home, and then the Harvest Festival will be held. I wonder if they'll cancel it because of these conflicts, or ..." he trailed off, noticing Rosa's disinterest. "I think I'll miss the golden fields, "he chuckled wryly. "I may even miss the snow."

"You make it sound as if you're not going back," said Rosa very softly as she led him to a lone bench sitting underneath a grove of trees; she sat, and he took his place at her feet. "Do you think you'll never see it again?"

Her fingers trailed through his long hair, hair that had once only brushed his shoulders, but now fell well past his shoulder blades. Leaning his head back and resting it against her knees, he closed his eyes and exhaled softly, "I have to stop Baron, and until I do, I'm a fugitive. I can't go home."

"But I was told you were dead," Rosa protested.

"When they came for Rydia, I spared the men. They'd have gone back to Baron by now, and Lord Baigan will know," he opened his eyes to see her chewing her bottom lip.

"They're calling it a war now, Cecil," her sea foam eyes looked striking against the blue of the sky beyond, "The Crystal War. Everyone in Baron is terrified of what this means, and it's only been a little over two weeks since the raid on Mysidia."

"It seems so much longer to me," he muttered. "Perhaps it is because so much has happened," above them, the branches of trees normally not found in this climate criss-crossed, casting a patchwork of dappled shadows all about them. "Still, I cannot believe they have begun to call it a war."

"What are we going to do?" her hands hovered for a moment at the knot he'd made in the cloth that tied back his hair, before loosing it and allowing his hair to fall freely about his face.

"The only thing left to us; treat with Fabul and Troia and hope to amass a force large enough to defeat the Baroni military." Saying it aloud made it sound absolutely ludicrous. Defeat Baron? With what strength? What could unarmed monks and armed women hope to do against the Red Wings and the Dragon Knights?

"Surely there has to be something more we can do. We can't be that powerless, can we, Cecil?" She trailed off. "Let's not speak any more of politics. I just want to forget all of this for a few hours."

"Have you seen the cit yet, Rosa?" he asked as her fingers trailed soothingly across his scalp.

"Why, Sir Harvey, are you suggesting a tryst?" She leaned down over him, smirking. "I'm not sure I can condone such behavior. It's entirely improper. Think of my suitors!" She feigned offense.

"But, milady," he stood, offering her his hand and a low, sweeping bow, "how can you possibly deny a man as charming and handsome as I?"

Her laugh was like water to a parched man, "well, I'm afraid I can find no fault in that logic."

And she took his hand.

(INTERMISSION)

"You will retrieve for me the Crystal of Wind," said Golbez, his voice barely audible, though the tall man beside him seemed to have heard, for he nodded stiffly.

"You are dismissed," he waved his hand resignedly, and the man disappeared into the dark corridors, going to do what only Gaelach could possibly comprehend.

Golbez turned to the moons, unsurprised when a soft, deep, voice made itself known. "You seem pensive, my old friend."

The Dark Lord turned around, a smirk revealing the youth of that face, a handsome man in his late twenties. "Rubicante, you know you are several times my elder."

"Ah, but I have known you since you were a twelve year old whelp, and you have continually proven yourself a valuable companion," the dusky man replied, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, his glowing yellow eyes filled with a certain fondness toward the Dark Lord. "We've made head way in Eblan."

"So it will soon fall," Golbez sat on the edge of the bed, and then swung his legs over the edge and lay down, crossing his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

"As sure as the twin moons set and rise again," Rubicante told his young friend. He hesitated, then spoke once again, "You seem distracted, Golbez. What troubles your mind?"

"To be frank? Cecil Harvey." He peered upward through his half closed eyes. "He attempts to stand against me. I realize he has no real chance of being victorious, and yet … There is something about him that unsettles me."

"He seems immune to your persuasion."

"No. That is not it," Golbez turned his violet gaze on Rubicante. "It is that no one forewarned me of him. They all assumed he would not pose a threat; that he would not dare to go against his king, that his loyalty was unshakeable. Yet he stands at every corner, and though he fails, there he stands. I cannot help but wonder what would happen if he were to acquire the kind of power that could defeat me…" He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "No, that is not likely, but I would honestly not be surprised if he were there to defend Fabul when I arrive. In fact, I am hoping he is there, for I have a little plan in store for him."

"I see that glint in your eyes, Golbez. You are enjoying yourself," Rubicante's voice was slightly accusing, but amused.

"Yes. I will admit that I have long yearned for a worthy adversary," Golbez shot up out of bed, his eyes glowing with magic in the darkness. "I hope he responds in full to my ploy."

"You're playing with this Cecil," Rubicante chuckled. "Be careful not to become too drawn up in this rivalry."

"I can practice restraint," Golbez snorted. "I have realized that this threat must be neutralized." He looked down at his hands and smiled in a way that was almost sad. "Yet he is young, and I am young also. Perhaps I just want to act my age and compete for once." He looked back up at Rubicante, the expression wiped from his face, the usual mask of careful cruelty. "It will be a shame to snuff out his life, but to know we've finally won brings me great satisfaction."

"What should I tell Lugae to do with the POWs?" Rubicante asked, returning the subject to business.

Golbez chuckled coolly, "tell him to transform them into an advantage."

(INTERMISSION)

Cecil could feel Rosa's eyes on him as he turned about in the new, sage green, velvet tunic and crisp with undershirt, showing it off only because she had asked him. It was a comfortable fit, and even Cecil had to admit that it was pleasing to the eye.

Edward beamed at Claudia's handiwork and was going on to the woman about price – despite her earlier offer of giving it to them.

Rydia sat on Rosa's lap, eating the sweets Edward had indulged her with on their shopping trip. She was grinning at Cecil, "Want some?"

Cecil shook his head, "No thank you, Rydia."

Cecil was suddenly aware of Claudia's voice, and glanced over to see Edward paying her. Picking up his old clothing, Cecil moved to the changing screens, feeling further self-consciousness with Rosa there. When he returned, he indulged Rydia a little bit on his own when she held her arms out and he picked her up, smiling warmly at her.

"I like you a lot Cecil," she whispered in his ears. "At first I hated you, but I really don't think you meant to hurt Mommy, and you have Rosa, and I like Rosa," she suddenly pulled away, looking a bit sad. "And you're different, like me."

Cecil remembered the rockslide at Mist, and wondered, not for the first time, what she had done to cause such a calamity. He also recalled her powerful magics, and supposed that she may be sensing whatever Tellah had when they had first encountered the old man. His features, however, set him apart, and she wasn't exactly usual in that area herself.

He ran a hand through her thick, green hair, "Yes, we are different, aren't we?"

"Are you ready to depart?" Edward asked, a large pack that looked too heavy for a man of such slight frame to carry slung over his shoulders.

"Of course," answered Rosa, the bow and quiver of arrows she'd purchased with the money she'd brought from Baron in her arms, making Cecil wonder whether he was the only one without accessible funds.

Cecil nodded, "We need to hurry. Baron may strike at any moment."

"Then there is no time to waste," Edward left the tent, and Cecil and Rosa followed, the girl still in the Dark Knight's arms.

It did not take them long to reach the hovercraft; parked just within the shade of Kaipo's walls.

Cecil was made uncomfortable by the weightless sensation once again as he took his seat next to Edward.

"We're headed to the Tao-Shin Mountain Range," announced Edward over the whir of the engines and the rush of the wind. "Mount Hobbs is the most direct route to Fabul, so the trail is well worn. We should reach it in a few hours, if I drive as fast as I did yesterday."

"We'll have to walk to Ha-Chi?" asked Cecil.

"Yes, but the journey isn't long – not when the weather is fair."

And with that, the conversation ended, and their journey continued.

Cecil was content to listen to Edward, Rosa and Rydia chatter as he thought of the next few days of fair weather travel. Baron was being idle, and Cecil had already tarried too long in Kaipo, wasting far too many days at large, yet Baron had made no move, for if they had, they would not be able to escape the news. That alone told Cecil they were secure in their victory that they felt they could waste what the Dark Knight knew to be ever precious time. Perhaps their negligence could work to his advantage.

Cecil fingered the hilt of his sword, staring at the distant mountains that grew ever larger on the horizon, and wondered if he would ever see his beloved Baron again. More importantly, he wondered if Baron would ever recover from this disgrace. Perhaps, if King Thomas could return to his old frame of mind …

It was in this mindset that Cecil exited the hovercraft, half dazed as Edward shoved him a leather armor.

"You cannot go into battle unarmored. I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing."

It was rudimentary armor and did not provide protection against anything other than the must blunt of weapons, but it was better than nothing, and certainly sufficient for an excursion into Fabul. In monk country men did not arm themselves, and so Cecil would not have to fret about piercing or slashing blows. However, just because a man could not cut or stab you did not mean he was unable to kill you, as Cecil well knew from his days as a novice.

Strapping on the breast plate, wrist guard, greaves, and hip guards, Cecil readjusted his scabbard and placed his hand comfortably on his hilt.

When he turned around, Rosa was already waiting for him, her quiver slung over her shoulder, her bow in hand. She was standing by Rydia, who was clutching a short staff in her right hand, looking very unsure; Cecil resolved to teach her how to use it. Edward, who held their supplies (including whatever extras he'd purchased at market) in the pack he had upon his back, was holding his harp. Having seen its abilities first hand, Cecil didn't doubt it would be effective against the foes they may encounter upon the mountain, though it did look rather feeble.

"There is a camp ground we can utilize a little ways up the slope," said Edward. "We should reach it before nightfall."

"You've traveled frequently, Prince Edward?" Rosa inquired as they began their ascent up Mount Hobbs.

"I used to, when I was a bard," he laughed. "I never went farther than Tei or Kaipo, because of my health, and because Anna…" he trailed off, his face filled with a sudden mourning. "Anna would worry about me."

Rosa's face filled with deep compassion, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Edward smiled, albeit a bit sadly, at her.

When Rosa asked Edward about his job as a bard, Cecil moved forward, walking close to them and relying heavily on his senses to alert him of any danger. That is why, following along with the others, he did not notice the wall of gleaming ice in front of him until Edward grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Someone was clearly trying to block off the passage between the countries, surmised the Dark Knight. First the beast in the sunken highway, and now this monstrosity.

"Well, I'm certainly grateful we have a Magi with us," said Rosa, kneeling by Rydia's side. "Will you cast a fire spell upon it?"

Cecil saw the shadows of fear reflected in her eyes, and could almost see the pillar of fire himself; could almost hear the screams and smell the smoke. "I ... I can't."

"But fire is the most basic of all spells," Rosa sighed, brushing her hand through Rydia's hair. "Surely-"

"No! I can't!" Rydia protested more vehemently. "The fire ... My village ... Mommy and Daddy..."

"Rydia," Rosa crooned, "you're the only one who can help us. If you don't cast fire, the people in Fabul will be hurt by The Red Wings. I know it's painful, Rydia, but just try, you may just be surprised."

Belief and trust in the older woman showed in Rydia's green eyes, and the girl took a deep breath. Spreading her hands in front of her, clutching her staff, she closed her eyes and turned to face the imposing wall of ice. Her skirt began to flap in a sudden breeze and her verdant hair began to course with movement. Her eyes snapped open, and fire leapt from the space between her arms to lick at the impassable wall with tongues of flame. Before long, it had evaporated into nothing more than a current of steam rising into the sunset sky.

"I did it!"

Rydia cast her arms around Rosa's neck, and the woman laughed, returning the girl's hug with all the warmth of a mother. "You were excellent, Rydia."

Together, they headed up the mountain slope, arriving at the campground in only an hour or so. It was evident that the area was well traveled, the ground worn and trampled; a well used fire pit dug, and a pile of fine wood stacked high nearby.

"Does Fabul maintain the path?" Cecil said as he and Edward removed the canvas for the tents from the pack.

"To my knowledge," replied the bard prince, moving over to the fire pit and throwing in a few logs. "I would guess that duty would fall to the monks who guard the Fortress City of Ha-Chi."

"I've never been to Fabul," Cecil said, staking the tent posts into the ground and beginning the careful process of setting up the tents.

Rosa and Rydia went through the pack of collected the rations, "Neither have I. In fact, I've never been farther from home than Dracograd before." Rosa looked at Cecil from underneath her eyelashes. "Do you need help?"

Cecil shook his head, "I've been many places; Troia, Mysidia, the Adamant Isles, but never Fabul or Eblan. They have strict regulations over their airspace, so Baron has never flown there."

"What's flying like?" asked Edward, staring up from his place by the fire pit.

Rydia, with a flick of her wrist, sent fire there, and the blonde man jumped, his eyes widening in shock.

Cecil, who was now arranging the canvas and rope to form the two tents, turned his gaze to Edward. "It's unlike anything else in the world. Being above the earth, with everything so far beneath you, the wind in your hair, knowing nothing can harm you. It's a feeling of absolute release." He granted as he wrapped the rope around the stake and pulled it tight, "A feeling of absolute freedom."

"It sounds like your music to me," Edward sat on the ground and strummed on his harp. "Music is my passion."

"Oh, he's not just passionate about flying in airships," said Rosa, cutting the twine on the ration packages with the knife she kept in her belt. "You should see him pilot one. Not even Cid can out fly Cecil, and he invented airships."

"That's not true, Rosa," protested Cecil, beginning his work on the next tent. "Cid hasn't been allowed to enter the flight competition for years because he accidentally caused my crash in the third. He pushed me ahead, so there's no way I would have won otherwise, and he was victorious in the second."

Edward laughed, "He's being too humble, isn't he, Rosa?"

"That's Cecil," Rosa chuckled, handing Rydia her share of the rations.

"Will you take me flying one day?" Rydia asked as Cecil finished his work, drifting over to his side.

"If you'd like," Cecil told her, sitting down by the fire and allowing Rydia to come and sit in his lap.

"I'd like to, as well," Edward volunteered, his strumming growing louder until it coalesced into a song.

Rosa took a seat at Cecil's side, handing him his rations and leaning her head against his shoulder as Edward's song rose about them. It was sweet and sad; the sort of song that moved you, and when Edward began to sing it seemed as if even the fire stopped crackling.

"Memories drift across my mind,

Taking me back to that place,

Summer days long past, but still held dear.

Sweet as honey,

The dreams of those days,

Lead my soul back to that place.

I find your embrace,

Home in your arms,

I've found your love..."

It drifted about them, as silver melody, alive with Edward's pure, simple, emotion. It was easy to drift off, and Cecil soon found Rydia was asleep and Rosa was snoozing on his shoulder.

Waking Rosa, he pulled Rydia into his arms and led them to their tent. Rosa quickly grabbed the blankets from beside the pack and laid one out on the ground. Gently as he could, Cecil lay the sleeping Rydia down on the thick blanket, surprised when he looked up and realized Rosa's face was millimeters from his own. She placed her hand on his cheek and ever so gently pressed their lips together.

His heart stopped, but he didn't pull away, even though he was unsure of what to do. His head told him he was dangerous and that he should not risk disgracing her, but the rest of him was screaming at him to deepen the kiss, and perhaps to go even farther.

At last, Rosa pulled away, looking disappointed. "Good night, Cecil," she said, making it clear he was no longer wanted.

Cursing his own foolishness, he exited, grabbed the other two blankets, placed them in the tent, and returned to the fireside. "I'll take the watch," Cecil volunteered.

Edward shook his head, "Get some sleep, Cecil. I'll wake you when I tire."

Sighing, the Dark Knight did was he was told.

The rest of the night passed without event, and the morning rose cool.

Cecil was already awake when the others emerged into the light of early morning. Knowing Rosa would be cross with him, and having mulled over it during his watch, made his mood sour, and he handed out rations with an uncharacteristic stiffness. Unlike the day before, conversation was forced, and they traveled up the rest of the mountain in a shroud of tension that affected even Rydia and Edward.

All anger and resentment passed, however, when Cecil heard signs of struggle coming from the peak. Loosing his sword, he took off up the incline, pausing behind an outcrop to gaze upon a truly terrifying scene.

The burnt bodies of an entire unit of men littered the ground, strewn about the ground like leaves in autumn. Among the corpses maneuvered a lone man, his skin gleaming bronze with sweat, his chest bare and head bald. Though Cecil had never seen a monk before, he knew without a doubt that this man claimed that title. Only a monk could defend himself against the onslaught of fire monsters that descended upon him with naught but his body.

Unsheathing his sword, the dark Knight leapt into the fray, moving with his own sort of grace to aide the man.

Before long, he and the monk were back to back, fending off the endless horde of enemies, elegant kicks and brutal slices sending blood curdling wails down the craggy slopes. Eventually, the last of the beasts fell, and Cecil lowered his weapon, turning to face the man, who bowed low at the waist. He was about to open his mouth, but a noise like two stones grinding against one another and Rosa's scream of warning caused them both to spin around.

Floating above the ground was a creature that seemed to have crawled from the depths of the Underworld. It had a bulbous body forged of roiling fire, and eyes that glowed white hot from its squat, smashed, ugly face. Fangs protruding from its mouth dripped saliva that caused the ground to hiss where it fell. The heat that emanated from the beast was enough to make Cecil sweat profusely, even from where he stood several yards away.

Before Cecil could react, it was descending upon them.

Moving out of the way as quickly as he could, Cecil did not realize what the beast had planned until he had rolled to his feet and raised his blade. Unfortunately, it was too late to do much more than watch as the creature swelled to three times its size and then collapsed in upon itself.

The resulting shockwave sent Cecil flying through the air, the heat singeing his clothing and hair, and stinging his eyes. When he hit a rocky crop nearby, he heard a snap as his left arm broke, bent completely out of shape, and felt shrapnel slice across his abdomen where there was no leather armor to protect him.

He only became aware of the pain when he slid to the ground, crippled by the sudden burst of searing pain that shot up his arm and through the rest of his body from his stomach.

Knowing unconsciousness would be best for him, he allowed himself to slip into blackness, Rosa's sobs accompanying him into the silent darkness.

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.