Cecil Harvey: "Attachments" (2/2)
Title: Crusader's Run: Attachments (part 2 of 2)
Theme + Number: Cold #34, Exhaustion #45, River #73
Claim: Cecil Harvey
Characters/Pairings included: Tellah, Cecil, Rydia
Rating: T
Warnings: General Violence
Summary: The battle against the Octomammoth and the events that follow.
Index
"Quotes" = Dialogue
"Quotes & Italics" = Thoughts
Bolded Words = Emphasis
*Abstract Wording* = Sound Effects
Paragraphs Full of Italics = Flashback Scene
**Asterisk** = Time Passes and/or Change of POV
-------------
A flash. Thunder booms and crashes down, electrocuting the school of unsuspecting piranha swimming in the riverbank below. One by one they float and rotate upright, their bloated bellies bobbing along with the waves as the stream eventually carries their charred remains far and away.
An eruption of water had scattered out from the lightning strike and a few of those beads happen to catch Rydia in her left eye. While wiping the irritation away, she sees Tellah lowering his scepter for what has to be the umpteenth time, and as the caller has come to expect, he pulls out a metal flask from within his robes and takes a careful, calculated sip once more.
With the sage taking it upon himself to dispatch of any viable threat, it leaves Cecil with little to do in his uneventful position as rear guard. Not that he seems to be complaining nor does Rydia expect him to. For no matter how strong she knows him to be, she imagines underwater combat lies outside the shadow knight's forte, his movements heavily weighed while any form of attack might as well just be sluggish whacks coming from a slim steel club.
Just like Cecil had previously expressed, the sage's spells were a boon to have. But there's something about him, about this whole situation which keeps her on edge.
The caller has never seen magic quite like Tellah's until today, power that is his very own, so she really has no right to criticize in matters she lacks any fundamental knowledge of.
So why? The sage hasn't done anything at all to earn her distrust, so why then can't she help but feel wary of him..?
“You've been awfully quiet for a while now, Rydia. Is anything wrong?”
The caller gives pause to her guardian's inquiries, trying extra hard to form her thoughts and put them into the right words, “... He's struggling...”
“Who? Tellah?” Cecil wonders out loud before scrutinizing the sage walking several paces in front of them. The group has been steadily climbing uphill through these tunnels for the past few hours now and still he shows no signs of slowing down, “... I don't think so. He's actually holding up far better than one would expect for a man his age.”
Rydia shakes her head and frowns, frustrated with herself for being unable to understand what she's feeling, “Not in that way...”
“And how might I ask, in what manner would you happen to be referring?” Tellah interrupts as he tilts his head back, eying her from above the rim of his spectacles. The caller shyly retracts back and doesn't answer, yet the sage isn't at all offended but rather seems pleased with her assessment.
Cecil turns to him, diverting the sage's attention away from her while changing the subject, “If you wouldn't mind, Tellah, you've yet to explain how this detour is of any benefit to us.”
“In but a few moments. All shall be revealed shortly upon arrival at our destination.”
And just like that, the path soon opens up and daylight can be seen at the far end of the tunnel. The sound of rushing water becomes distinctly louder as they draw near the exit and upon stepping outside, their view of the scenery expands tremendously.
The group now resides on top of a narrowing cliff which oversees the interior scope of an immense, open-air gorge. Having come across a dead end, Rydia gazes down and recognizes several areas they've already passed by on their hike upstream - then the sight of it hits her. They've been going around in circles this entire time, doing nothing more than spiral up the high reaches of this grand domain.
Many creeks and streams from all around congregate here, flowing down from various heights and elevations along the outer region and pooling into the vast lake below. Masses of land are few and far between as the majority of the gorge is filled with crystalline water which perfectly mirrors the wide, gold tinted skies above.
It's beautiful, but at the same time feels wholly unnatural. Besides the constant flow of streaming water, the gorge itself is as quiet as a grave site, devoid of life as if it turned into an untouched paradise.
As she continues surveying the area, the caller starts understanding the reason for this wayward hike. There are actually two main bodies of water at the bottom of the gorge. This is made more obvious by the water level differential due to a land dike, about 40 feet high and spanning nearly 500 feet across, which boxes in a large corner of the domain and keeps the neighboring lake from engulfing it completely.
The waterfall just up ahead flows directly down this very section. What's more, the pond looks rather shallow along its borders and will probably make wading through that much easier for their group.
“So, the creature's dwellings lie someplace there?” Cecil asks, indicating a random area down in the center.
“That is so. The Octomammoth moves with incredible swiftness and needs only but a few moments to transverse the far range of this entire lake. Those taking the most direct route must still swim a lengthy distance between each of the isolated islands,” the sage responds and points down towards a specific location, “The prior caravans which have made it midway through... it has long been my hypothesis that they have only managed due to that vile creature's ploy. To lure, entrap then ravage them only after all means of escape have been thoroughly forfeited and stripped away.”
The situation grows heavier and Rydia swallows hard under the pressure. Her guardian, however, picks up on a subtle detail and his expression becomes slim and tight, “Forgive me if I appear out of line, but why is it only now that you choose to act when you've remained a spectator for the many others who were in greater need of your assistance?”
Taken aback, Tellah turns his gaze while adopting a sober look.
“There are reasons. The first, dreadful to say, is because both my mind and body are no longer what they used to be. Many seasons have passed since I have retired life as a sorcerer and have long since forgotten my repertoire of spells. Only after deep meditation these past few weeks did I begin recalling even the most basic enchantments, as well as piece together the entirety of a very special incantation. One which will certainly fall the sea creature without fail,” The sage explains as he retrieves a rolled-up piece of parchment from inside his baggy sleeves, “This scroll contains one of the forbidden Arcana Hexes. As such, it is imperative for the caster to receive a great measure of support while the spell is amidst preparation.”
“From what I'm gathering, you seem awfully confident in this spell's given success.”
“And rightfully so. All public records of Great Magic classified level-4 and above have long since been banned by Mysidia's council due to their wary array of sheer, unbridled power. For all intent and purposes, their original use is for besieging castles and eradicating army battalions,” Tellah informs. He then falls silent, turning his head towards the gouge once more, “... Sufficient to say, sorcery on so grand a scale is not without demerit. And so I will ask again. This mission you hold, is it truly worth risking everything for? Faced with such explicit dangers, no one can place neither blame nor fault should you choose to preserve your own life and security.”
Cecil pauses, his eyes drifting far away, “There was a time, maybe, when that might have all still held true... but no longer. Those things now are far beyond me.”
Rydia sadly looks on while Tellah stares at the shadow knight, not fully knowing what to make of his reply, before settling with a weighty nod. While chanting, he raises his scepter and from its tip a soft transparent bubble begins to expend until it swallows the group entirely.
Upon feeling herself rising, the caller becomes startled and trips forward. But instead of falling face-first onto the ground, she performs a full, effortless somersault that sways her back into an upright position. She looks down and sees that her feet are now dangling several inches off the floor, her weightless body completely suspended in midair. And it's not just her, both men are also caught in the same predicament.
“This should aid in slowing our descent,” the sage says with perfect composure while the other two have more trouble maintaining their balance, “We jump on my signal. Are the two of you ready?”
Both nod, the shadow knight with mild absence and the caller only after much reluctance. She doesn't want to be the one slowing them down, and so she holds back the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.
“Rydia,” her guardian calls out. She looks to see Cecil with his back to her, crouched down and gesturing with both hands. Figuring out what he wants, she hops on and the shadow knight carries her piggyback style, “When the time comes, close your eyes and hold your breath. Don't let go no matter what, understand?”
Though still highly unprepared, the caller manages a wordless nod. The two men move towards the cliff side and stops just inches along the edge. Several beats pass in nervous anticipation, then Tellah begins the countdown.
“5...”
Cecil leans forward, which in turn causes her eyesight to fall on the landscape below, and suddenly the volume of the roaring rapids besides them feels like it increased tenfold.
“...4...”
The distance seems so much greater as she stares straight down the cliff side and watches the plummeting water dissipate into vapor clouds at base of the waterfall. Her shaky hold clasps tighter while her face is pressed up against the shadow knight's shoulder, whatever imitation of bravery she had possessed is quickly dwindling.
“...3...”
She suddenly feels her whole body pop up, her grip loosening and her vision no longer darkened as a result, and the caller finds that it was Cecil's doing after he placed the flat side of his sheathe sword under her for better support.
“...2...”
Looking at him, she wonders how in the world can he remain so perfectly calm in this situation, “No, not really calm. More like... whatever happens to him, he's ready.”
In both Mist and Kaipo, the caller imagines this is how Cecil must have looked like had she chanced a glance up at him during either one of those battles. His expression is so finely focused that it offers no room for either compassion or solace. But that's fine for her, because it also breaks free from the illusions of false hope and empty promises.
“...1!”
The group jumps, and Rydia entrusts it all to her guardian who's eyes glimmer with the resolve to see them all safely through.
*********
The whopping plunge jars him to his very core, like the shock of a thousand needles piercing into his flesh. It takes all of Cecil's willpower just to keep from passing out as his sunken body floats listlessly within the pond. Regaining enough strength, the dark knight pushes through the pressure and swims upward.
He breaks the surface in a gasp for air and hears a second set of lungs breathing deeply behind him. Rydia had done a fine job following his instructions, and he can see Tellah had recovered with remarkable haste. Already, the sage is moving alongside the regional walls and is halfway to a jagged stone staircase, the only path which leads further up to the surrounding land dike.
The dark knight paddles, still carrying his ward, to the shallow ends where the water fluctuates between waist- and ankle-deep. While following after Tellah, he picks up on a subtle yet increasing disturbance.
It's the sound of rippling water. Even with his vision blocked by mounds of rock and gravel, Cecil knows something huge is stealthfully submerged beneath the lake, swimming back and forth along the outer walls until its presence resides just outside the thinnest portion of the dam.
Just as the sage had planned, the Octomammoth is barred from reaching the other side due to the land strip separating the two great bodies of water. However, things aren't so simple as to end there. The dark knight witnesses eight orange tentacles rising from the depths before slamming heavily down.
*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*
That systematic, ground pounding sound echoes repeatedly as the lake monster proceeds to flatten the rocky barrier hindering it.
*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*
His eyes transfix on the sight, Cecil remains unaware as his foothold abruptly ends at the worst possible moment right in front of him.
A costly mistake, a fatal misstep sends the upper portion of his body plunging into the pond. His head pops back up a second later, yet horrid dread starts building as he finds himself alone: the familiar weight of his ward no longer at his back.
He dives down and locates the summoner quickly as she's being swept further away by an underwater stream funneling into a large burrow. Cecil grabs hold of her in time and somehow manages to swim back up, barely escaping from the vortex himself.
Immediately after resurfacing, Rydia coughs and wheezes out the water filling her windpipe while Cecil's attention is drawn back to the Octomammoth, its gigantic, gelatinous mass now within plain sight on top of the dam.
He wrenches his eyes away from the sight and moves. Yet the pull of the current is still too strong, and that along with keeping Rydia above water with one arm while the other holds onto his sheathe sword makes swimming an arduous task. The sea creature inches just as slowly across land, using all of its tentacles to drag its deadweight body along. But while the beast only has a small strip of ground to cross, the gulf of water which lies in between them and the coast is nearly 15 times as great.
Just as his thoughts start turning desperate, Cecil feels a brush of hot air fly high above him and he turns just in time to see a fireball striking the ground in front of the beast, making it to reel away from the still-burning blaze.
He looks back towards the source and finds Tellah atop of a broad, high-rising platform at the sharpest corner of the land dike, chanting feverishly under his breath as two blazing orbs start to materialize in front of him.
“Quickly!!” the sage urges and with the head of his scepter, he whacks the orbs in 1-2 succession. The fiery missiles careen down at the Octomammoth and quickly find their mark, the first scraping alongside one of its many tentacles while the other squarely slams into its forehead. The creature wails from the blow yet it's not nearly enough to deter the monster's pursuit of its two helpless quarries.
It's a race against time. Tellah continues providing cover and buy them precious seconds while Cecil redoubles his efforts to reach the shoreline. He wills himself to keep swimming if just a little faster, ignoring the signals his body is giving of its aching fatigue.
Only after several seconds of inactivity does he begin to realize that the situation had changed: and it had taken a turn for the worse. The dark knight looks up and discovers Tellah holding off the assault, his spells currently on standby. He then dares to glance back along with Rydia and they both find nothing. Whether it's on top of the dam or residing beneath the pond, neither hair nor hide of the monster can be seen anywhere.
*DOOUM!*
A booming sound reverberates loudly throughout the entire gorge. The quality and feel: it was the same as the defiant strike from a battering ram, and it's only after hearing it a second time does its origins become known.
*DOOOUUM!*
Deep cracks begin spreading across the wall of the dam, right below the spot where the Octomammoth was previously at, and Cecil finally realizes. It had dove back into the lake, completely shielded now from the sage's magic, and is proceeding to break through by force.
*DOOOOUUUM!!*
Water begins squirting out from the fissures at an alarming rate; just one more hit is all it'll take.
*DOOOUsssswwooooooooooooosshhhh!!!*
Lake water bursts out like a vertical geyser and even over the roaring outpour, the sea creature can still be heard dunking into the pond far behind them. But the flood creates an unforeseen effect of overpowering the underwater vortex and freeing them from its influence, which in turn allows both he and Rydia to ride along those same waves as it brings them closer to shore.
Tellah resumes raining down spells one after another, knowing it's all in vain yet he can think of nothing else but to try, and Cecil doesn't need to see his ward's terrified face to feel the Octomammoth is fast approaching. But what's even stronger is his own intuition, and it's telling him that they finally-
There..! He can feel his toes scrape across the seafloor. Cecil stretches out to regain solid footing and immediately pushes his way through the weighty resistance. The water level is up to his nose. Now down to his chin.
The Octomammoth closes the miniscule gap and begins utilizing its tentacles to capture its quarry's legs.
Below the neck. Descending to his shoulders. Now at mid-chest.
But through a combination of the dark knight's dexterity, luck and perseverance, each grappling attempt ends in a crop failure. The creature aims higher, to the larger, less nimble body part of his waist.
Water comes up just above his stomach. He's gotten close enough and quickly pushes Rydia the rest of the way forward - his right hand now free.
The Octomammoth's hold completely encircles his torso in its vise-like grip, ready to drag him down to his watery grave, but Cecil moves just a split second faster, twisting around while drawing his sword in one swift motion. The velocity easily slices the water surface wide open and the blade cuts acutely into its tender flesh.
Its wrapped tentacle instantly turns limp and two more quickly shoot up from the pond in retribution. Yet they are merely exposed targets for the dark knight to hack and slash away like overgrown weeds, and after having its two other limbs thoroughly severed, the monster makes a full retreat back into the depths.
With the pond two meters higher now and rising, Cecil doesn't stop backpedaling until he resides well above the shoreline.
A long, unblinking moment passes. He then flops onto the stone steps, allowing himself room to breathe, and his ward comes to sit beside him looking concerned yet more so relieved.
Cecil continues to watch the steady flow of outpouring floodwater, its waves concealing whatever ripples of movement the Octomammoth is surely making.
********
The immediate threat has passed and Tellah is able to breathe easy. To have fought back the beast in such dire conditions, the mercenary's combat prowess has well exceeded his expectations. With this, his primary worries are laid to rest and he can now even consider Cecil's duty complete; he needs only to focus on fulfilling his own role.
The sage takes out and drinks from his metal flask, emptying its contents of the leftover hi-ether. Chanting magic in such quick succession had placed too heavy a drain on his aged body, and in part he wishes the circumstances would have allowed him to keep a little of the liquid mana in reserve. But the overall situation has worked out well in their favor. The Octomammoth is now confined within a far smaller radius where even an indirect strike from the Arcana Hex will permanently cripple, if not outright slay the beast.
Tellah retrieves the scroll containing the Great Magic Thundaja, the highest achieved mastery of its class within the elemental-3 series. It would have been better if he was able to recall the weaker, yet more battle-oriented variations of Thundaga or even Thundara instead. But beggars can't be choosers and the sage can only hope that all of today's conjuration was enough, that he was able to regain over a decade's worth of practice within the frame of a single day.
He grabs the knot and unravels the scroll with gusto, spreading it wide while holding it up along with his scepter. He then begins reciting the spell's extensive incantation.
Modern hexes nowadays are strictly cast through group synchronization, a qualified band of three being the ideal number of participants. The first unit works on laying the proper groundwork, from harvesting the tremendous flux of mana necessary to calculating and compensating for any outside variables which may affect the spell's creation and overall effectiveness. The second's job is exclusively focused on molding the magic until it reaches materialized completion. The third is charged with suppressing the counterflow of excess energy during its unstable stages of preparation and is chiefly responsible for the party's supervision. What's more, the unit also serves as a liaison between each member involved, a task which will vary in difficulty depending on the whole group's compatibility.
All the mana gathers into a singular point high above the sage, and what starts off as a tiny speck grows into a colorless, distorted sphere looming in the sky, its size roughly 1/4 the scale of the entire regional gorge.
Compressing all this mana while maintaining its integrity is too toilsome an undertaking with how he is now. Regardless, Tellah continues reading into the second set of verses and soon the sphere alters in color, deepening to a radiant violet, while its raw composition starts shifting into the purest of all lightning.
Amidst his concentration, Tellah notes a figure climbing up to the high-rising platform and sees that it's Rydia, the mercenary's charge, or to be more precise, a residential child from the Valley of Mist. Cecil must have sent her over here for her own safety, not knowing this is perhaps the most hazardous zone to be presently in.
She stands apprehensively, as far back as possible from the sage. A smart girl; despite neither being taught nor exposed to the arcane teachings of Mysidia, she's somehow subconsciously aware of the hex's instability, “Is this due in part to her lineage as a summoner? Perhaps they are simply more in tuned, better adept at picking up the slight subtleties within the property of all things mystic-”
Huge, meandering streams of electricity jump throughout the sphere's surface before drawing back into it fortunately. The sage grits back and reprimands himself; he should never have let his mind wonder for even a second. Already the pressure is beyond unbearable and protection must be placed before matters continue to fall out of his control.
After a series of chants, Tellah encloses his spread arms and several green-tinted wards begin encompassing the hex's outer perimeter. As soon as these glass-like reflectors are placed they are put to work, catching the stray bolts and recycling its dissipated mana back into the sphere where it will be materialized once more. He continues his spell-casting, mindful about reinforcing any of the protective layer's heavily assailed segments.
43%.
51%.
58%.
64% spell completion.
By this time the floodwater has stopped pouring into the pond, yet even so the atmospheric distortion is causing the surrounding waters to ripple as if running away. The wards grow weaker in proportion with the hex's increasing power, and soon the sage can no longer keep up with the force of his own magic.
72%.
75%.
77%.
One of the wards shatters with a thunderous crush and a burst of light shoots up diagonally into the vacant sky. Tellah fears he has reached his limit, trying to squeeze out whatever reserves he may yet possess.
79%.
80%.
He uses his last ounce of mana to repair the tear yet three more wards break down in rapid sequence. It's extremely risky to release an incomplete hex, and in all good conscious Tellah knows he shouldn't. But the situation has already grown far too dangerous.
*DOOUM!*
A rumble shakes the very foundations of the wide, circular platform both he and Rydia reside on. This distinct sound, it can only be that of the Octomammoth's ramming attack. Yet now, its location has become a dead giveaway, “Truly, there can be no better timing.”
The sage aims at the nearest corner of the pond and scrolls to the last incantation, ready to unleash the Great Magic Thundaja, but a voice shouts from far below and demands an unreasonable request, “Hold, Tellah!”
He sees Cecil, still by the sunken stone steps, as he scouts the pond area while submerged deep within its waters: well within ground zero of the hex's blast zone, “That fool..!”
*DOOOUUM!*
Tellah nearly crumples trying to rein back his magic while the unknowing mercenary swims closer to the area where the rumbling is heard, where it should be originating from. Yet despite his nearing proximity, he is neither assaulted nor engaged by the beast.
Cecil gazes up at him, his face wholly certain, “It's nowhere here!!”
*DOOOOUUUM!!*
The latest tumor causes one side of the platform to tip down, and the two mages stumble: three steps backwards into the tilt. Tellah turns away from the pond and looks to the lake. But regardless, he's still staring at the same body of water now flowing equally throughout the whole region.
*DOOUMMMMMMMMM!!!*
The fourth and final strike shatters the stone pillar and half of the platform topples into the lake. They're thrown off kilter by the jarring crash and the sage's precious parchment drops from his hand.
“No-!” he quickly crawls down and tries stopping the scroll from rolling into the waters below. But just as he's about to grab hold, Tellah feels has neck yanking back and halting his forward movement. He can see Rydia from the corner of his eyes pulling at his mantle with mighty strain, and a moment later a large banging tentacle smashes mere inches in front of him and rocks them both into the slanted ground.
Tellah glances up and sees the Octomammoth in all its glory, fully arisen and ready to bring forth the titanic mass of its limbs directly down upon them, but the danger it imposes is dwarfed by the flaring buzz of unchecked electricity emitting from the glowing eye in the sky.
The sage shields the caller just as a dynamical discharge shoots down and blows them clear away.
***
Dim awareness slowly returns yet Tellah hears nothing but white noise, that monotonous ringing disconnected from those wavy, overlaying frames of fuzzy still motion.
His eyes take in the sight of a large copper and blacken blur. Vaguely, he sees the Octomammoth as it reels and sways in mortal agony before crashing backwards into the lake with a spectacular splash.
He notes the child, Rydia, extremely close to him and vertically angled in an impossible direction. Tellah blinks, then he realizes it's his own perception which is curiously tilted.
Tug. Jerk. Push. Pull. Her muted mouth working, the caller seems to be doing anything and everything in her power to rouse him awake, to motivate him off the ground.
His eyesight drifts far away. He catches the distant figure of the mercenary frantically running along the land dike, mindless of the electrical surges spraying everywhere in the air. He shouts something, his face of utmost panic, yet the sage can scarcely hear.
“---k-u-..! Te--ah!! Th--s-el-!! Re-oke the -pell!!!”
Reflexively, the sage turns his eyes and looks overhead.
The beast has fallen. Now, they alone remain under the eye of the storm: and its gaze is staring directly at them.
This realization comes with a final flash as his vision washes away in a sea of instant white.
***
Light and fury assault the two mages, yet the feel of heaven's wrath is never brought down. The judgment bolt misses them by several yards and a great eruption blasts the waters right by the slowly sinking platform.
Even after witnessing it firsthand, the sage just can't believe his eyes. Over three decades he had been a prime scholar and chief researcher in the foundation of Mysidia's magecraft, so he better than anyone should know. For that thunderous bolt to have veered so sharply off its trajectory is simply infeasible; this goes beyond anything dumb luck can achieve and crosses straight into the realms of divine intervention.
Tellah shakes his head to clear his mind. No time now to think of the impossible as he looks up and sees all forms of lightning seep out from the wards' breakage, the entire protective layer on the verge of collapsing. He shakily stands, clamps his hands tightly together and retakes hold of the hex.
The sage chants in a hushed murmur as if in prayer, calling for the Great Magic's cancellation, and the colossal eye gradually shrinks. But more problems arise as his memory starts failing him, progressively blotting out bits and pieces of the verses crucial to the spell's abortion.
With each incorrect line spoken, the sphere of magic surges even more chaotically, and severe, meandering streams of lightning begin carving up the entire landscape. Tellah holds fast and hastens his words. And it's only when the flow of mana completely subsides does he dare look up.
The sphere is gone, leaving only the buzz of electrostatic to saturate the airspace. His energy spent, his knees buckle under him. Somehow, he has done it.
A huge splash erupts out of the waters and reveals the Octomammoth - still alive even after half of its face has been scorched to cinders. The caller reflexively turns towards the noise, blinking out of her daze just in time to flee up as far as the sinking platform will allow her. Yet Tellah, who's beyond exhausted, can neither escape nor break free from the tentacles snaking around his right wrist and thigh.
A powerful yank nearly draws his whole body into the waters, but a leaping shadow passes overhead, lands on top of the beast's face and drives the point of his sword directly into its one good eye.
“Go!!!” Cecil yells over the creature's crazed screeching and he twists the blade still lodged inside its socket, erecting a sick, wet sound as milky pus leaks faster from the gaping wound. The Octomammoth lets loose a ear-piercing shriek and bucks wildly, knocking him down. Depraved of its sight, it furiously reaches out and feels everywhere for its hated quarry.
He slashes at the advancing tentacles, holding his ground until Tellah is able to safely withdraw. However, no matter how many pieces of flesh and meat are hacked away, the persistent beast thrusts its able-bodied limbs onward; already it has been driven pass the point of pain and reason. Little resistance can be made after his sword arm is subdued and three more tentacles quickly constrain the mercenary. The sea creature dives back into the lake, dragging him down along with it.
Both mages stare into the now vacant space; it all happened so fast that it seems so surreal, and the sudden transition from chaotic to tranquil makes it all the harder to process. But the air bubbles ascending to the water surface validate everything.
Cecil is in the midst of drowning: and they can do nothing to stop it from happening.
Rydia still watches, unmoving and unblinking, while Tellah turns away and curses his own powerlessness, knowing that even in his prime, there was no magic in his forgotten arsenal that can rescue the mercenary.
A final gulp of oxygen bubbles up, then the waters become terribly calm.
“Come child, nothing more can be done here...” the sage says softly yet her only response is a slow then fierce shake of her head. He allows a few moments to pass before trying again, “Don't allow his sacrifice to be in vain.”
“No..!!!” she cries out while turning her shoulders away from his touch. The sage can see her back quivering in a suppressed whimper and his sympathies go out to her; it must be difficult for one so young to witness death for the very first time.
Then, as if by a flick of a switch, the caller grows still in a snap instant. Believing her to have calmed down, Tellah reaches out once more but immediately recoils upon feeling a burning sting. The sage grips his frostbitten fingers while looking back at Rydia and notices the small cold puffs becoming more visible with each steady exhale. The atmosphere around the child has fallen well below the freezing point, how she's even surviving within it eludes him, and its area of effect expands until razor-thin layers of ice begins forming in patches on top of the water. He has no idea what she's aiming to accomplish here, but encasing the mercenary beneath the lake won't be helping matters any.
Rydia drops to her knees and the air gradually returns to normal; perhaps she has given up after realizing the futility of it all, “She tried her best. That is more than anyone can ask of her.”
Tellah is about to take the crestfallen child away but something distracts him. Originating from the caller, a pale, opaque line is coloring the slanted ground and traveling downward. Upon hitting the waters, it instantly freezes a concentrated, circular portion and completely stops the remaining tip of the platform from sinking any further.
Even as the sage wanders in front of Rydia, her glazed eyes remain rooted on the icy spot and continue staring right through him like he isn't even there. Several seconds pass and a continuous sound akin to crinkling paper can still be heard, yet the surrounding environment seems unchanged and Tellah is unable to see where exactly the ice is forming from. It isn't until he comes to stand on top of the column of solid ice does he begin to realize.
A target section at the bottom of the lake is being frozen from the ground up, and a giant iceberg about 75 feet in diameter is rapidly rising to the surface, carrying with it both Cecil and the Octomammoth.
It emerges out of the waters, bobbing along with the waves, and the sage blinks out of his fascination, guiding the leftover electrostatic and zapping the tentacles wrapped around its quarry.
The mercenary drops down, hacking and gasping for air, and Tellah drags him a safe distance away before the beast can hammer him into the iceberg. He struggles to scramble back on his feet but the sage kneels, placing a hand on his shoulder and uttering a single word, “Patience.”
His body sluggish and his senses dull, Cecil lies wretched on the ground and can do little more than obey. They both look straight ahead and lie witness to the beast, thrashing about and sending large chips of ice huddling in all directions. The ice's slipperiness provides no traction for the Octomammoth and it skids forward: right into the hole its pounding has made. The tiny ditch can't be more than 3 inches deep, yet it's enough to seal the sea creature's movement.
Seeing this, the mercenary tries standing in order to take quick advantage yet Tellah's hands remain firmly where they are, holding him down and keeping him in place, “Simply wait.”
Baffled, Cecil nevertheless follows the sage's guidance and watches as the beast fight harder than ever. It isn't until several minutes have passed before he begins to understand.
Its thrashing dies down and another sound can be distinctly heard, one that's akin to heavy wind filtering through a damp, narrow duct. The noise comes from the creature's gills, pumping in and emptying out only the outside air. Water remains everywhere, yet its very lifeline has solidified into its prison as Octomammoth lies stranded within a hollow of its own making. It's an appropriate end for the beast who favored suffocating and drowning its victims until their dying breath.
With a last gasping intake, the Octomammoth shrivels up and expires without another sound.
Cecil stares at its still form for a little while longer before turning to him and rasping out, “Thank you, Tellah... It would have been the end of me if not for your aid.”
“Though your gratitude is greatly appreciated, I believe much of it is misguided,” the sage replies as he casts a meaningful glance towards the now unconscious caller.
“Rydia? You mean it was her?” Cecil asks, mildly stunned. Tellah nods and the mercenary pauses, as if not fully knowing what expression he should be making, “Is that so...”
The sage stands and glimpses up at the orange shaded skies, “Come. It has been an exhausting endeavor and much rest is required to replenish our strength.”
With the child in tow, the two men backtrack and soon return to Tellah's campsite where the caller's white chocobo remains sleeping by his tent. He reignites the campfire with a simple spell while Cecil lays Rydia onto the side of the bird's big cushy body and sits crossed-legged besides her, his face etched with slight worry, “Do you know what might be wrong with her, Tellah? That is, if this lies within your expertise. Is it normal for someone her age to be fainting after casting such potent magic?”
The sage considers while taking a seat in front of the fire. His closest hypothesis is that the caller may be stricken with Mana Pool exhaustion. Yet even if that was to be tapped completely dry, the subconscious mind places natural limiters that prevent any undo, premature stress on the body, which in turn should never allow the caller to pass out like this, “Tell me. Has this happened before?”
“... A similar incident had occurred, and she was comatose for a few days after.”
“Then, let us pray that bed rest is all she requires. For I can find nothing amiss, or to be more accurate, I am unaware of the finer details which could drive her into such a state,” Tellah responds as he readjusts his spectacles, “She is, after all, the first child of Mist I have ever seen outside its restricted boundaries.”
“So, you've known all along,” Cecil states, letting a little more of his guard down, and to which the sage nods.
“It was merely an inkling at first. Yet the more I observed her, the more I grew certain,” Tellah answers, “I have encountered many who come from an extended line of arcane ancestry, and it is certain this child does not belong to any of those distinguishable families. I know of only one other place which facilitates such natural mystic potency without incurring any forms of notoriety, and that is those residing within Mist Valley.”
His eyes grow distant while his features become wistful upon recalling the lost memory.
“Yes... It was 50 years ago to this day. Back then, I was still in apprenticeship and had been one of the two privileged youths to join in the expedition to the cryptic location, that small strip of land isolated from the rest of the free world. Mist had remained largely uncharted at the time, protected by a force field of unknown quantity that warded off would-be intruders from accessing the valley. The barrier itself had been harmless, yet effective in its ability to disrupt one's visual perception and sense of awareness.
It was astonishing. Mind-manipulation sorcery is extremely sensitive, much more so if the individual's psyche bears a similar human complexity, and a small miscalculation will cause immediate breakdown or bring about wild, unpredictable results. For the citizens of Mist to have always maintained such a sophisticated, wide spread hex around their borders: it truly had been an amazing feat. Only after months of trial and error did we succeed in producing a counter spell which could neutralize the barrier's effects for our entourage.
As one might expect, our forced entree was received unfavorably and our reception had been a little less than welcoming. Yet even still we offered a proposal for an equal exchange, to pool our collective knowledge together and share the secrets of our respective magecrafts for the betterment of both parties involved.”
The sage's lax smile throughout his recollection soon dips into a repressed scowl.
“Much to our chagrin, however, the residents of Mist adamantly refused and grew deaf to all other compromises we had set forward. All they wished from us was our banishment from their village.
From that day onward, they had placed an even greater barrier, one which actively displaces any trespassers who enter a set radius and physically prevents their progress into the valley. And so once more, its residents returned to their sheltered, meager existence.”
Tellah ruefully shakes his head as his flashback comes to an end. Even now, this past event remains one of his long lasting regrets. For someone like him, who has since gone on to transcribe countless scriptures and help unravel the mystic unknowns, the sage can only see their refusal to cooperate - their utter lack of action as wasted potential.
He supposes that's the fundamental difference which separates them. While Mysidia has always been an institute dedicated to the pursuit of higher learning, Mist seems more like a culture where magic is passed down merely for the sake of tradition. At least, that's the only answer which makes any sense to him.
“Ultimately, we did not achieve our primary aim, yet not all was proven futile. For example, though the scale is vastly smaller, the psychic barrier surrounding this very campsite and many other safe havens around the world are mass-produced replicas of Mist's warding hex, set now to a frequency which affects only the common monsters roaming those specified regions. The magical technique of group synchronization also stems from their influence, though our concept was created with neither form nor basis and is thus unlikely comparable to their own unique method. Even the inner workings behind the Serpent's Road are grounded on the properties of time/space magic, elements shared by the arcane art of summoning. Granted, it is highly improbable that the residents of Mist played any type of role in the portal's development. This does place into question, however, on where the technology truly originates from...”
“Might I ask a question?” Cecil finally interrupts, stopping the sage from going further into his off-beat tangent, “You spoke before of there being no relations between Mist and Mysidia. Then how is it possible for Rydia to even be performing black magic at all?”
“Ah, yes. Well, we can only hope to speculate. Though nothing is certain, there are quite a few possibilities. For one, there is always the chance that I was mistaken regarding the summoners' arcane progression, or they might have intentionally concealed the full range of their latent abilities. A separate magecraft similar to Mysidia's could have very well been constructed long before our untimely visit, which in turn would explain their outright refusal to collaborate with us. It is also possible that an outsider was accepted into their ranks and had since spread the mystic word amongst its people. Or perhaps what we just witnessed was some advance form or subdivision of summoning that does not require the presence of an eidolon in order to activate. Or it could be that this child is the lone exception, that she is just extraordinarily gifted in all areas pertaining to sorcery.”
“A single person or a whole community... so it's comes down to either one or the other,” the mercenary simplifies, looking as if he's weighed down by deeper matters, “Well regardless, I suppose nothing changes the fact that Rydia makes for an exceedingly powerful mage.”
“... I see you are still misunderstanding one key factor. The might of her sorcery is indeed noteworthy, though nothing beyond the ordinary. Given enough time, research and practice, even beginners with low magic depositions can reach the heights she has displayed. But because this child is able to operate outside any known perimeters, they cannot hope to duplicate her success,” he explains in the face of the mercenary's growing confusion. The sage considers for a moment before drawing attention to the kindling campfire, “Perhaps an example will better illustrate the point. As you are well aware, the fire here is one born of my own creation. Yet what would happen should I hold my hand above these flames?”
Cecil mulls the question over, perhaps thinking there's some sort of deeper meaning behind it, before he arrives at the logical conclusion, “You'll get burned of course.”
Nodding, Tellah continues, “Our magecraft is one that merely guides the mana to its proper course. Once fully manifested, we cannot hope to take complete control, for the purest of magic is indiscriminate and will harm us as surely as any foe.
This is but one of the crowning principles, the boundaries which all magicians have come to know and must inevitably meet. Yet for whatever unforeseen circumstances, such an issue does not exist for this child. To put matters simply, her command over sorcery is at a level of intimacy we mages today are still very far from attaining.”
Understanding begins dawning on the mercenary's face, though it's too mild a reaction for Tellah to believe he fully comprehends the magnitude of her unique scenario.
After seeing the caller's sorcery and the future prospect it can bring, even during his various discussions regarding magecraft, the sage realizes his own passion for the arcane arts hasn't dwindled in the slightest. Deep down, he harbors lingering regrets of having left that lifestyle behind.
Tellah closes his eyes, needing to remind himself once again, “Again. Never forget what is truly important now...”
His gaze opens and falls upon the caller, noting her motionless state lapse into a dreamless slumber.
“Softly asleep, hm?” Tellah observes. Her weight slowly leans to one side while she's dozing and her head taps into the mercenary's arm. Not wanting to disturb her, he doesn't bother moving and the slumbering child shifts around a bit to get more comfy, “She's quite fond of you I see.”
Cecil sits there, a look of reluctancy passing over his face as he quietly questions, “Is she..? Does it really seem that way?”
“It does.” Tellah states surely. He continues looking on and his eyes soften, “So much like Anna was...”
“Anna? And who might that be?”
“My daughter. There is little in the way of resemblance, yet gazing upon this child's face reminds me very much of her,” a profound pause, then the sage wistfully continues on, “Yes... many long years have since passed. She had been so young then... If only she displayed but a fraction of what this child has shown, our lives perhaps could have played out so very differently... ”
The sage blinks out of his recollection and offers Cecil his apologizes, “Forgive my nonsensical rumblings. Surely you would not be interested in hearing the tiresome life story of an aged old man.”
“... There's still a long night ahead of us. If anything, it can do well to help pass the time.”
He eyes the mercenary, feeling his words were not spoken lightly nor was it to satisfy his own curiosity. Tellah eases a bit, grateful for his consideration, “That, is perhaps very true. Well then...
Everything began nearly 2 decades ago, back when Anna was still little and our family still whole. We had all been living together in Mysidia where, due to my personal connections and influence there, she had qualified for a free scholarship and a reserved seat into the intermediate level of sorcery, provided she continue performing well in her classes.
Back then, it had been... unfathomable for me to think her incapable of achieving the proper results. She was born into a long lineage of magicians after all. So naturally, her deposition should be higher than most in her generation. But Anna never took her lessons to heart. She held no desires to carry on our family's legacy, her sole aspiration was to follow her own dreams of becoming a performing dancer.
All the signs had been there, yet I discarded them as little more than a child's whimsical play. It was her mother, Samantha, that later saw in our daughter what I could not. And as I continued driving Anna to excel in the path I wanted for her, I was doing nothing more than unwittingly pushing the both of them away.
Eventually, a nasty quarrel had ensued concerning the best course for our daughter's future. Spiteful words were exchanged in the growing heat of that argument and heartfelt feelings were crushed beneath them.
It was a moment in time that could never be taken back. Both Samantha and I separated soon afterwards, and she along with Anna moved back to her hometown of Kaipo while I remained in Mysidia.”
The sage removes his spectacles and busies himself by wiping the lens sedately. Granted, that was just one of the many ongoing marital issues which had led to their fallout. But he, in his stubborn foolishness, did nothing to amend when time still allowed him that chance. Even if a court jury were to find him the least accountable for everything that had transpired, none of that really matters when you end up alone with only happier memories to haunt your solitary nights.
“5 years had come and gone in no time at all, and I received word from them at long last.
It had been a telegram, stating that my ex-wife had passed away due to the desert fever...”
Tellah pauses in his monologue, needing a moment to himself, before he finally places the spectacles back on his face.
“... I saw Anna for the first time in ages at the funeral ceremony. She had grown so much that I barely recognized her, yet she remembered all too well of me and affronted only cold hostility.
I knew matters must be taken delicately if we were to become a family once again, yet all my careful consideration and planning were so quickly laid to waste in the very first step.
At the legal adult age of 15, Anna could freely choose to live an independent lifestyle from there after. She had exercised that right upon refusing to fall under my custody, deciding to remain in Kaipo where the goodwill and support of Samantha’s relatives would be there for her instead.
In that crucial moment, I had grown wise to her ways and realized what she had come to anticipate from me. And so, while standing in front of her mother's grave, I was left with either fulfilling those expectations or running counter against them,” Tellah states with a bitter, sorrowful smile, “To choose between the continuing pursuit of my life's work or to wholeheartedly resume my parental responsibilities; you must think me atrocious to even contemplate the two.”
Cecil grows passive, saying nothing of the matter. His silence says it all, however, and truthfully the sage can't blame him. He has since felt the same about himself from the very moment she came to be a part of his life again.
“Yes, I can understand. For a father to have always compromised his one and only daughter; it makes perfect sense then for Anna to scorn and rebel against me at every turn. Her favorite foods and certain allergies; her hobbies, dislikes and interests; her hopes; her dreams: all those minor, yet significant things were previously foreign to me and only then did I begin discovering.”
The wrinkles around his face grow more profound and causes the sage to look decidedly older. To have realized this at so late a stage, he really is a hopeless case. Little by little, he had thought their stained relationship was being re-mended, that they were slowly becoming a family once again. Yet even now as her father, Anna disregarded his last true wish for her and ran straight into the arms of that dastardly man, leaving just a solitary note laying on her empty bedside.
Not a single, damnable thing has changed since that time. No matter how much he sacrificed or how hard he tried correcting his errant ways, he still doesn't mean anything at all to her.
“Because I was never the father figure she so deserved... because I would never consent to their wedlock. In retaliation, she had ran away to elope with that despicable bard.”
“A bard..?” Cecil questions and the sage gravely nods.
“One who goes by the name of Edward. However, that is merely an alias, a false identity he assumed so that he could easily coax my daughter into his thieving clutches,” Tellah replies with spiteful distaste, “Both the failings of the transport route as well as the sea creature's blockade of this gorge, it is by far and wide too large of a coincidence. I can only presume that wicked bard has somehow played his hand in all of this.”
That's right. It's impossible for the sage to give his Anna away, not after he neglected so many of her childhood years, and especially not to that meek, useless bard who can do nothing more than prance around in dance and song. Love as sudden and fleeting as theirs will never survive. That's why he must stop his daughter from ever undergoing that same broken heartache at all cost.
Tellah takes his scepter in hand and rises to his feet. He may have only made mistakes one after another throughout his lifetime, but allowing Anna to marry that cowardly bard is an error that will never come to pass. On this he vows.
**********
Even long after Tellah had retired for the day, the dark knight is left sitting in front of the campfire with much on his mind. The night drags on and finally he gives an onward sigh, deciding it's better to at least go inside his own tent and escape the damp, chilly air. He moves to stand, though that slight movement still causes Rydia to stir.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Cecil asks, though he's more thankful to see his ward responsive after only a few hours time.
The summoner motions with her head, but it was so miniscule that it's hard to say whether she gave a nod or a shake. Her misty gaze continues to rest on the kindling fire, drifting between the twilight of wake and dream.
“...nowhere here...
'cause of me...he died..?”
“Died? Because of her..?” the dark knight wonders in puzzlement, “Just who are you talking about?”
“...big...orangey...squidy...”
“I see... so you saw...” he murmurs in reply. Truthfully, Cecil isn't quite certain what this means for someone like her, a summoner who partners with sacred beasts freely at will, and he, like the countless veteran soldiers before him, has stopped giving much thought to the moral ambiguity of monster slaying. But regardless of age, race or gender, laying witness to one's first kill is sure to be an emotionally jarring experience. But for one who has already undergone so much; it seems needlessly cruel for her to be burdened with this as well, “It's not anything you could of prevented. So don't blame yourself...”
His first thoughts were to actually point out all the good she's done, that he's only alive because of her. But he just couldn't bring himself to utter those words: not to her.
Still, what he said was also the truth. Having sustained too many injuries, the Octomammoth would have probably died after a day or so even without her intervention. Yet that reason alone isn't enough for the young summoner and she continues grasping for the full meaning behind it all.
“...even if...he just wants to live..?”
Pausing, Cecil muses for an answer that will best satisfy her, “Whether they be man or beast, every living creature born on this earth shares that same instinct, and in that way we're no different from anyone or anything else. But cases of conflict will always exist, and only the correct course of action can be taken when those times arise.”
“...then...he's the one who's wrong..?”
Again he gives pause, approaching the subject with delicacy, “Unfortunately, morality holds no place here, because we each carry our own selfish justifications for wanting to live. Yet also keep in mind, for that beast to survive, many more human lives would constantly need to be sacrificed.”
“...it's that simple..?
just living hurts people..?”
Hearing her reply causes Cecil to hesitate, recalling a long forgotten time when everything inside his own little world was painted simply in either black or white, back when his concept of justice still coincided with everything that was good and right, “As sad as it is to say, that's simply the reality. No matter how much we might wish it not to be...”
“... so that's why...
everyone's gone...”
It's like slow-acting poison coursing through his bloodstream. Cecil can steadily feel his nerves seizing up on him, unconsciously aware of the terrible change in topic.
“...lots of people...must be hurting...if we all died...
it's the right choice...right..?”
His whole body turns rigid as if overcome with sudden petrification. It's too painful to hear; for what reason does the chief victim of Mist's tragedy have to be talking like this? And then everything he had said comes rushing back to him, “It's my fault... She hasn't even mourned yet, and yet she-It would of been far better if she just condemned me...”
“...but...
why am I...”
“Stop-”
“the only one alive..?”
“Just stop..!” he forcefully breaths out and his ward grows passive, if only momentarily.
“...then why..?
why did this happen..?”
She continues to question absently, trying to make some sense out of the broken pieces in her life. And here he is; the instigator who laid to ruin that very life, “... I may not know the reason, but I do know that we're the ones who were completely in the wrong. So don't ever try to justify this. Never think for a single moment that this was ever meant to be right. Promise me, alright?”
“...okay...
but cecil..?
... you're not making sense anymore...”
A soulful sigh escapes the dark knight; he just doesn't have the answers to anything anymore. If he was the type of man who can be truly satisfied with himself, then tales of boundless regret would have never inked the pages of his wrongful life, “Nowadays, I think that exact same thing too...”
Rydia grows quiet as slumber wins over and Cecil takes this opportunity to put her to bed. He returns to their spot and pauses, being sucked into the glow of the black red embers himself. Several beats pass, then he squats down and tosses in some loose dirt to smother the fire, and all becomes dark.
*****
Morning arrives. The ice has melted overnight and the gorge once more regains its pristine state. The Octomammoth's body is nowhere to be found, sunken now at the bottom of the lake, and the dark knight thinks the better of it; he'd rather not have anything to remind Rydia of what transpired here.
The group travels onward through passages, tunnels, streams and everything else in between until they finally arrive above ground where huge dunes of sand await them. And there, along the horizon, the castle of Damcyan can scarcely be seen. But even though they can't properly see from this distance, something about it appears very wrong.
*-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-*
Both Rydia and Tellah curiously look up and about, wondering what that increasing, motor-beating noise is and where it's coming from. But the dark knight already knows and is left standing stunned; it's an all-too-familiar sound that he can never mistaken nor forget in his entire life. He gazes fast towards the heavens and locates the source almost immediately.
The might of the Red Wings Fleet hovers high above Damcyan, and the cargo bay for each ship begins opening in unison. Tiny specks drop down, whistling from the sky, and land with an earth-shattering explosion. After the dust settles, the desert kingdom is no more.
Theme + Number: Cold #34, Exhaustion #45, River #73
Claim: Cecil Harvey
Characters/Pairings included: Tellah, Cecil, Rydia
Rating: T
Warnings: General Violence
Summary: The battle against the Octomammoth and the events that follow.
Index
"Quotes" = Dialogue
"Quotes & Italics" = Thoughts
Bolded Words = Emphasis
*Abstract Wording* = Sound Effects
Paragraphs Full of Italics = Flashback Scene
**Asterisk** = Time Passes and/or Change of POV
-------------
A flash. Thunder booms and crashes down, electrocuting the school of unsuspecting piranha swimming in the riverbank below. One by one they float and rotate upright, their bloated bellies bobbing along with the waves as the stream eventually carries their charred remains far and away.
An eruption of water had scattered out from the lightning strike and a few of those beads happen to catch Rydia in her left eye. While wiping the irritation away, she sees Tellah lowering his scepter for what has to be the umpteenth time, and as the caller has come to expect, he pulls out a metal flask from within his robes and takes a careful, calculated sip once more.
With the sage taking it upon himself to dispatch of any viable threat, it leaves Cecil with little to do in his uneventful position as rear guard. Not that he seems to be complaining nor does Rydia expect him to. For no matter how strong she knows him to be, she imagines underwater combat lies outside the shadow knight's forte, his movements heavily weighed while any form of attack might as well just be sluggish whacks coming from a slim steel club.
Just like Cecil had previously expressed, the sage's spells were a boon to have. But there's something about him, about this whole situation which keeps her on edge.
The caller has never seen magic quite like Tellah's until today, power that is his very own, so she really has no right to criticize in matters she lacks any fundamental knowledge of.
So why? The sage hasn't done anything at all to earn her distrust, so why then can't she help but feel wary of him..?
“You've been awfully quiet for a while now, Rydia. Is anything wrong?”
The caller gives pause to her guardian's inquiries, trying extra hard to form her thoughts and put them into the right words, “... He's struggling...”
“Who? Tellah?” Cecil wonders out loud before scrutinizing the sage walking several paces in front of them. The group has been steadily climbing uphill through these tunnels for the past few hours now and still he shows no signs of slowing down, “... I don't think so. He's actually holding up far better than one would expect for a man his age.”
Rydia shakes her head and frowns, frustrated with herself for being unable to understand what she's feeling, “Not in that way...”
“And how might I ask, in what manner would you happen to be referring?” Tellah interrupts as he tilts his head back, eying her from above the rim of his spectacles. The caller shyly retracts back and doesn't answer, yet the sage isn't at all offended but rather seems pleased with her assessment.
Cecil turns to him, diverting the sage's attention away from her while changing the subject, “If you wouldn't mind, Tellah, you've yet to explain how this detour is of any benefit to us.”
“In but a few moments. All shall be revealed shortly upon arrival at our destination.”
And just like that, the path soon opens up and daylight can be seen at the far end of the tunnel. The sound of rushing water becomes distinctly louder as they draw near the exit and upon stepping outside, their view of the scenery expands tremendously.
The group now resides on top of a narrowing cliff which oversees the interior scope of an immense, open-air gorge. Having come across a dead end, Rydia gazes down and recognizes several areas they've already passed by on their hike upstream - then the sight of it hits her. They've been going around in circles this entire time, doing nothing more than spiral up the high reaches of this grand domain.
Many creeks and streams from all around congregate here, flowing down from various heights and elevations along the outer region and pooling into the vast lake below. Masses of land are few and far between as the majority of the gorge is filled with crystalline water which perfectly mirrors the wide, gold tinted skies above.
It's beautiful, but at the same time feels wholly unnatural. Besides the constant flow of streaming water, the gorge itself is as quiet as a grave site, devoid of life as if it turned into an untouched paradise.
As she continues surveying the area, the caller starts understanding the reason for this wayward hike. There are actually two main bodies of water at the bottom of the gorge. This is made more obvious by the water level differential due to a land dike, about 40 feet high and spanning nearly 500 feet across, which boxes in a large corner of the domain and keeps the neighboring lake from engulfing it completely.
The waterfall just up ahead flows directly down this very section. What's more, the pond looks rather shallow along its borders and will probably make wading through that much easier for their group.
“So, the creature's dwellings lie someplace there?” Cecil asks, indicating a random area down in the center.
“That is so. The Octomammoth moves with incredible swiftness and needs only but a few moments to transverse the far range of this entire lake. Those taking the most direct route must still swim a lengthy distance between each of the isolated islands,” the sage responds and points down towards a specific location, “The prior caravans which have made it midway through... it has long been my hypothesis that they have only managed due to that vile creature's ploy. To lure, entrap then ravage them only after all means of escape have been thoroughly forfeited and stripped away.”
The situation grows heavier and Rydia swallows hard under the pressure. Her guardian, however, picks up on a subtle detail and his expression becomes slim and tight, “Forgive me if I appear out of line, but why is it only now that you choose to act when you've remained a spectator for the many others who were in greater need of your assistance?”
Taken aback, Tellah turns his gaze while adopting a sober look.
“There are reasons. The first, dreadful to say, is because both my mind and body are no longer what they used to be. Many seasons have passed since I have retired life as a sorcerer and have long since forgotten my repertoire of spells. Only after deep meditation these past few weeks did I begin recalling even the most basic enchantments, as well as piece together the entirety of a very special incantation. One which will certainly fall the sea creature without fail,” The sage explains as he retrieves a rolled-up piece of parchment from inside his baggy sleeves, “This scroll contains one of the forbidden Arcana Hexes. As such, it is imperative for the caster to receive a great measure of support while the spell is amidst preparation.”
“From what I'm gathering, you seem awfully confident in this spell's given success.”
“And rightfully so. All public records of Great Magic classified level-4 and above have long since been banned by Mysidia's council due to their wary array of sheer, unbridled power. For all intent and purposes, their original use is for besieging castles and eradicating army battalions,” Tellah informs. He then falls silent, turning his head towards the gouge once more, “... Sufficient to say, sorcery on so grand a scale is not without demerit. And so I will ask again. This mission you hold, is it truly worth risking everything for? Faced with such explicit dangers, no one can place neither blame nor fault should you choose to preserve your own life and security.”
Cecil pauses, his eyes drifting far away, “There was a time, maybe, when that might have all still held true... but no longer. Those things now are far beyond me.”
Rydia sadly looks on while Tellah stares at the shadow knight, not fully knowing what to make of his reply, before settling with a weighty nod. While chanting, he raises his scepter and from its tip a soft transparent bubble begins to expend until it swallows the group entirely.
Upon feeling herself rising, the caller becomes startled and trips forward. But instead of falling face-first onto the ground, she performs a full, effortless somersault that sways her back into an upright position. She looks down and sees that her feet are now dangling several inches off the floor, her weightless body completely suspended in midair. And it's not just her, both men are also caught in the same predicament.
“This should aid in slowing our descent,” the sage says with perfect composure while the other two have more trouble maintaining their balance, “We jump on my signal. Are the two of you ready?”
Both nod, the shadow knight with mild absence and the caller only after much reluctance. She doesn't want to be the one slowing them down, and so she holds back the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.
“Rydia,” her guardian calls out. She looks to see Cecil with his back to her, crouched down and gesturing with both hands. Figuring out what he wants, she hops on and the shadow knight carries her piggyback style, “When the time comes, close your eyes and hold your breath. Don't let go no matter what, understand?”
Though still highly unprepared, the caller manages a wordless nod. The two men move towards the cliff side and stops just inches along the edge. Several beats pass in nervous anticipation, then Tellah begins the countdown.
“5...”
Cecil leans forward, which in turn causes her eyesight to fall on the landscape below, and suddenly the volume of the roaring rapids besides them feels like it increased tenfold.
“...4...”
The distance seems so much greater as she stares straight down the cliff side and watches the plummeting water dissipate into vapor clouds at base of the waterfall. Her shaky hold clasps tighter while her face is pressed up against the shadow knight's shoulder, whatever imitation of bravery she had possessed is quickly dwindling.
“...3...”
She suddenly feels her whole body pop up, her grip loosening and her vision no longer darkened as a result, and the caller finds that it was Cecil's doing after he placed the flat side of his sheathe sword under her for better support.
“...2...”
Looking at him, she wonders how in the world can he remain so perfectly calm in this situation, “No, not really calm. More like... whatever happens to him, he's ready.”
In both Mist and Kaipo, the caller imagines this is how Cecil must have looked like had she chanced a glance up at him during either one of those battles. His expression is so finely focused that it offers no room for either compassion or solace. But that's fine for her, because it also breaks free from the illusions of false hope and empty promises.
“...1!”
The group jumps, and Rydia entrusts it all to her guardian who's eyes glimmer with the resolve to see them all safely through.
*********
The whopping plunge jars him to his very core, like the shock of a thousand needles piercing into his flesh. It takes all of Cecil's willpower just to keep from passing out as his sunken body floats listlessly within the pond. Regaining enough strength, the dark knight pushes through the pressure and swims upward.
He breaks the surface in a gasp for air and hears a second set of lungs breathing deeply behind him. Rydia had done a fine job following his instructions, and he can see Tellah had recovered with remarkable haste. Already, the sage is moving alongside the regional walls and is halfway to a jagged stone staircase, the only path which leads further up to the surrounding land dike.
The dark knight paddles, still carrying his ward, to the shallow ends where the water fluctuates between waist- and ankle-deep. While following after Tellah, he picks up on a subtle yet increasing disturbance.
It's the sound of rippling water. Even with his vision blocked by mounds of rock and gravel, Cecil knows something huge is stealthfully submerged beneath the lake, swimming back and forth along the outer walls until its presence resides just outside the thinnest portion of the dam.
Just as the sage had planned, the Octomammoth is barred from reaching the other side due to the land strip separating the two great bodies of water. However, things aren't so simple as to end there. The dark knight witnesses eight orange tentacles rising from the depths before slamming heavily down.
*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*
That systematic, ground pounding sound echoes repeatedly as the lake monster proceeds to flatten the rocky barrier hindering it.
*Baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baab-baaB!*
His eyes transfix on the sight, Cecil remains unaware as his foothold abruptly ends at the worst possible moment right in front of him.
A costly mistake, a fatal misstep sends the upper portion of his body plunging into the pond. His head pops back up a second later, yet horrid dread starts building as he finds himself alone: the familiar weight of his ward no longer at his back.
He dives down and locates the summoner quickly as she's being swept further away by an underwater stream funneling into a large burrow. Cecil grabs hold of her in time and somehow manages to swim back up, barely escaping from the vortex himself.
Immediately after resurfacing, Rydia coughs and wheezes out the water filling her windpipe while Cecil's attention is drawn back to the Octomammoth, its gigantic, gelatinous mass now within plain sight on top of the dam.
He wrenches his eyes away from the sight and moves. Yet the pull of the current is still too strong, and that along with keeping Rydia above water with one arm while the other holds onto his sheathe sword makes swimming an arduous task. The sea creature inches just as slowly across land, using all of its tentacles to drag its deadweight body along. But while the beast only has a small strip of ground to cross, the gulf of water which lies in between them and the coast is nearly 15 times as great.
Just as his thoughts start turning desperate, Cecil feels a brush of hot air fly high above him and he turns just in time to see a fireball striking the ground in front of the beast, making it to reel away from the still-burning blaze.
He looks back towards the source and finds Tellah atop of a broad, high-rising platform at the sharpest corner of the land dike, chanting feverishly under his breath as two blazing orbs start to materialize in front of him.
“Quickly!!” the sage urges and with the head of his scepter, he whacks the orbs in 1-2 succession. The fiery missiles careen down at the Octomammoth and quickly find their mark, the first scraping alongside one of its many tentacles while the other squarely slams into its forehead. The creature wails from the blow yet it's not nearly enough to deter the monster's pursuit of its two helpless quarries.
It's a race against time. Tellah continues providing cover and buy them precious seconds while Cecil redoubles his efforts to reach the shoreline. He wills himself to keep swimming if just a little faster, ignoring the signals his body is giving of its aching fatigue.
Only after several seconds of inactivity does he begin to realize that the situation had changed: and it had taken a turn for the worse. The dark knight looks up and discovers Tellah holding off the assault, his spells currently on standby. He then dares to glance back along with Rydia and they both find nothing. Whether it's on top of the dam or residing beneath the pond, neither hair nor hide of the monster can be seen anywhere.
*DOOUM!*
A booming sound reverberates loudly throughout the entire gorge. The quality and feel: it was the same as the defiant strike from a battering ram, and it's only after hearing it a second time does its origins become known.
*DOOOUUM!*
Deep cracks begin spreading across the wall of the dam, right below the spot where the Octomammoth was previously at, and Cecil finally realizes. It had dove back into the lake, completely shielded now from the sage's magic, and is proceeding to break through by force.
*DOOOOUUUM!!*
Water begins squirting out from the fissures at an alarming rate; just one more hit is all it'll take.
*DOOOUsssswwooooooooooooosshhhh!!!*
Lake water bursts out like a vertical geyser and even over the roaring outpour, the sea creature can still be heard dunking into the pond far behind them. But the flood creates an unforeseen effect of overpowering the underwater vortex and freeing them from its influence, which in turn allows both he and Rydia to ride along those same waves as it brings them closer to shore.
Tellah resumes raining down spells one after another, knowing it's all in vain yet he can think of nothing else but to try, and Cecil doesn't need to see his ward's terrified face to feel the Octomammoth is fast approaching. But what's even stronger is his own intuition, and it's telling him that they finally-
There..! He can feel his toes scrape across the seafloor. Cecil stretches out to regain solid footing and immediately pushes his way through the weighty resistance. The water level is up to his nose. Now down to his chin.
The Octomammoth closes the miniscule gap and begins utilizing its tentacles to capture its quarry's legs.
Below the neck. Descending to his shoulders. Now at mid-chest.
But through a combination of the dark knight's dexterity, luck and perseverance, each grappling attempt ends in a crop failure. The creature aims higher, to the larger, less nimble body part of his waist.
Water comes up just above his stomach. He's gotten close enough and quickly pushes Rydia the rest of the way forward - his right hand now free.
The Octomammoth's hold completely encircles his torso in its vise-like grip, ready to drag him down to his watery grave, but Cecil moves just a split second faster, twisting around while drawing his sword in one swift motion. The velocity easily slices the water surface wide open and the blade cuts acutely into its tender flesh.
Its wrapped tentacle instantly turns limp and two more quickly shoot up from the pond in retribution. Yet they are merely exposed targets for the dark knight to hack and slash away like overgrown weeds, and after having its two other limbs thoroughly severed, the monster makes a full retreat back into the depths.
With the pond two meters higher now and rising, Cecil doesn't stop backpedaling until he resides well above the shoreline.
A long, unblinking moment passes. He then flops onto the stone steps, allowing himself room to breathe, and his ward comes to sit beside him looking concerned yet more so relieved.
Cecil continues to watch the steady flow of outpouring floodwater, its waves concealing whatever ripples of movement the Octomammoth is surely making.
********
The immediate threat has passed and Tellah is able to breathe easy. To have fought back the beast in such dire conditions, the mercenary's combat prowess has well exceeded his expectations. With this, his primary worries are laid to rest and he can now even consider Cecil's duty complete; he needs only to focus on fulfilling his own role.
The sage takes out and drinks from his metal flask, emptying its contents of the leftover hi-ether. Chanting magic in such quick succession had placed too heavy a drain on his aged body, and in part he wishes the circumstances would have allowed him to keep a little of the liquid mana in reserve. But the overall situation has worked out well in their favor. The Octomammoth is now confined within a far smaller radius where even an indirect strike from the Arcana Hex will permanently cripple, if not outright slay the beast.
Tellah retrieves the scroll containing the Great Magic Thundaja, the highest achieved mastery of its class within the elemental-3 series. It would have been better if he was able to recall the weaker, yet more battle-oriented variations of Thundaga or even Thundara instead. But beggars can't be choosers and the sage can only hope that all of today's conjuration was enough, that he was able to regain over a decade's worth of practice within the frame of a single day.
He grabs the knot and unravels the scroll with gusto, spreading it wide while holding it up along with his scepter. He then begins reciting the spell's extensive incantation.
Modern hexes nowadays are strictly cast through group synchronization, a qualified band of three being the ideal number of participants. The first unit works on laying the proper groundwork, from harvesting the tremendous flux of mana necessary to calculating and compensating for any outside variables which may affect the spell's creation and overall effectiveness. The second's job is exclusively focused on molding the magic until it reaches materialized completion. The third is charged with suppressing the counterflow of excess energy during its unstable stages of preparation and is chiefly responsible for the party's supervision. What's more, the unit also serves as a liaison between each member involved, a task which will vary in difficulty depending on the whole group's compatibility.
All the mana gathers into a singular point high above the sage, and what starts off as a tiny speck grows into a colorless, distorted sphere looming in the sky, its size roughly 1/4 the scale of the entire regional gorge.
Compressing all this mana while maintaining its integrity is too toilsome an undertaking with how he is now. Regardless, Tellah continues reading into the second set of verses and soon the sphere alters in color, deepening to a radiant violet, while its raw composition starts shifting into the purest of all lightning.
Amidst his concentration, Tellah notes a figure climbing up to the high-rising platform and sees that it's Rydia, the mercenary's charge, or to be more precise, a residential child from the Valley of Mist. Cecil must have sent her over here for her own safety, not knowing this is perhaps the most hazardous zone to be presently in.
She stands apprehensively, as far back as possible from the sage. A smart girl; despite neither being taught nor exposed to the arcane teachings of Mysidia, she's somehow subconsciously aware of the hex's instability, “Is this due in part to her lineage as a summoner? Perhaps they are simply more in tuned, better adept at picking up the slight subtleties within the property of all things mystic-”
Huge, meandering streams of electricity jump throughout the sphere's surface before drawing back into it fortunately. The sage grits back and reprimands himself; he should never have let his mind wonder for even a second. Already the pressure is beyond unbearable and protection must be placed before matters continue to fall out of his control.
After a series of chants, Tellah encloses his spread arms and several green-tinted wards begin encompassing the hex's outer perimeter. As soon as these glass-like reflectors are placed they are put to work, catching the stray bolts and recycling its dissipated mana back into the sphere where it will be materialized once more. He continues his spell-casting, mindful about reinforcing any of the protective layer's heavily assailed segments.
43%.
51%.
58%.
64% spell completion.
By this time the floodwater has stopped pouring into the pond, yet even so the atmospheric distortion is causing the surrounding waters to ripple as if running away. The wards grow weaker in proportion with the hex's increasing power, and soon the sage can no longer keep up with the force of his own magic.
72%.
75%.
77%.
One of the wards shatters with a thunderous crush and a burst of light shoots up diagonally into the vacant sky. Tellah fears he has reached his limit, trying to squeeze out whatever reserves he may yet possess.
79%.
80%.
He uses his last ounce of mana to repair the tear yet three more wards break down in rapid sequence. It's extremely risky to release an incomplete hex, and in all good conscious Tellah knows he shouldn't. But the situation has already grown far too dangerous.
*DOOUM!*
A rumble shakes the very foundations of the wide, circular platform both he and Rydia reside on. This distinct sound, it can only be that of the Octomammoth's ramming attack. Yet now, its location has become a dead giveaway, “Truly, there can be no better timing.”
The sage aims at the nearest corner of the pond and scrolls to the last incantation, ready to unleash the Great Magic Thundaja, but a voice shouts from far below and demands an unreasonable request, “Hold, Tellah!”
He sees Cecil, still by the sunken stone steps, as he scouts the pond area while submerged deep within its waters: well within ground zero of the hex's blast zone, “That fool..!”
*DOOOUUM!*
Tellah nearly crumples trying to rein back his magic while the unknowing mercenary swims closer to the area where the rumbling is heard, where it should be originating from. Yet despite his nearing proximity, he is neither assaulted nor engaged by the beast.
Cecil gazes up at him, his face wholly certain, “It's nowhere here!!”
*DOOOOUUUM!!*
The latest tumor causes one side of the platform to tip down, and the two mages stumble: three steps backwards into the tilt. Tellah turns away from the pond and looks to the lake. But regardless, he's still staring at the same body of water now flowing equally throughout the whole region.
*DOOUMMMMMMMMM!!!*
The fourth and final strike shatters the stone pillar and half of the platform topples into the lake. They're thrown off kilter by the jarring crash and the sage's precious parchment drops from his hand.
“No-!” he quickly crawls down and tries stopping the scroll from rolling into the waters below. But just as he's about to grab hold, Tellah feels has neck yanking back and halting his forward movement. He can see Rydia from the corner of his eyes pulling at his mantle with mighty strain, and a moment later a large banging tentacle smashes mere inches in front of him and rocks them both into the slanted ground.
Tellah glances up and sees the Octomammoth in all its glory, fully arisen and ready to bring forth the titanic mass of its limbs directly down upon them, but the danger it imposes is dwarfed by the flaring buzz of unchecked electricity emitting from the glowing eye in the sky.
The sage shields the caller just as a dynamical discharge shoots down and blows them clear away.
***
Dim awareness slowly returns yet Tellah hears nothing but white noise, that monotonous ringing disconnected from those wavy, overlaying frames of fuzzy still motion.
His eyes take in the sight of a large copper and blacken blur. Vaguely, he sees the Octomammoth as it reels and sways in mortal agony before crashing backwards into the lake with a spectacular splash.
He notes the child, Rydia, extremely close to him and vertically angled in an impossible direction. Tellah blinks, then he realizes it's his own perception which is curiously tilted.
Tug. Jerk. Push. Pull. Her muted mouth working, the caller seems to be doing anything and everything in her power to rouse him awake, to motivate him off the ground.
His eyesight drifts far away. He catches the distant figure of the mercenary frantically running along the land dike, mindless of the electrical surges spraying everywhere in the air. He shouts something, his face of utmost panic, yet the sage can scarcely hear.
“---k-u-..! Te--ah!! Th--s-el-!! Re-oke the -pell!!!”
Reflexively, the sage turns his eyes and looks overhead.
The beast has fallen. Now, they alone remain under the eye of the storm: and its gaze is staring directly at them.
This realization comes with a final flash as his vision washes away in a sea of instant white.
***
Light and fury assault the two mages, yet the feel of heaven's wrath is never brought down. The judgment bolt misses them by several yards and a great eruption blasts the waters right by the slowly sinking platform.
Even after witnessing it firsthand, the sage just can't believe his eyes. Over three decades he had been a prime scholar and chief researcher in the foundation of Mysidia's magecraft, so he better than anyone should know. For that thunderous bolt to have veered so sharply off its trajectory is simply infeasible; this goes beyond anything dumb luck can achieve and crosses straight into the realms of divine intervention.
Tellah shakes his head to clear his mind. No time now to think of the impossible as he looks up and sees all forms of lightning seep out from the wards' breakage, the entire protective layer on the verge of collapsing. He shakily stands, clamps his hands tightly together and retakes hold of the hex.
The sage chants in a hushed murmur as if in prayer, calling for the Great Magic's cancellation, and the colossal eye gradually shrinks. But more problems arise as his memory starts failing him, progressively blotting out bits and pieces of the verses crucial to the spell's abortion.
With each incorrect line spoken, the sphere of magic surges even more chaotically, and severe, meandering streams of lightning begin carving up the entire landscape. Tellah holds fast and hastens his words. And it's only when the flow of mana completely subsides does he dare look up.
The sphere is gone, leaving only the buzz of electrostatic to saturate the airspace. His energy spent, his knees buckle under him. Somehow, he has done it.
A huge splash erupts out of the waters and reveals the Octomammoth - still alive even after half of its face has been scorched to cinders. The caller reflexively turns towards the noise, blinking out of her daze just in time to flee up as far as the sinking platform will allow her. Yet Tellah, who's beyond exhausted, can neither escape nor break free from the tentacles snaking around his right wrist and thigh.
A powerful yank nearly draws his whole body into the waters, but a leaping shadow passes overhead, lands on top of the beast's face and drives the point of his sword directly into its one good eye.
“Go!!!” Cecil yells over the creature's crazed screeching and he twists the blade still lodged inside its socket, erecting a sick, wet sound as milky pus leaks faster from the gaping wound. The Octomammoth lets loose a ear-piercing shriek and bucks wildly, knocking him down. Depraved of its sight, it furiously reaches out and feels everywhere for its hated quarry.
He slashes at the advancing tentacles, holding his ground until Tellah is able to safely withdraw. However, no matter how many pieces of flesh and meat are hacked away, the persistent beast thrusts its able-bodied limbs onward; already it has been driven pass the point of pain and reason. Little resistance can be made after his sword arm is subdued and three more tentacles quickly constrain the mercenary. The sea creature dives back into the lake, dragging him down along with it.
Both mages stare into the now vacant space; it all happened so fast that it seems so surreal, and the sudden transition from chaotic to tranquil makes it all the harder to process. But the air bubbles ascending to the water surface validate everything.
Cecil is in the midst of drowning: and they can do nothing to stop it from happening.
Rydia still watches, unmoving and unblinking, while Tellah turns away and curses his own powerlessness, knowing that even in his prime, there was no magic in his forgotten arsenal that can rescue the mercenary.
A final gulp of oxygen bubbles up, then the waters become terribly calm.
“Come child, nothing more can be done here...” the sage says softly yet her only response is a slow then fierce shake of her head. He allows a few moments to pass before trying again, “Don't allow his sacrifice to be in vain.”
“No..!!!” she cries out while turning her shoulders away from his touch. The sage can see her back quivering in a suppressed whimper and his sympathies go out to her; it must be difficult for one so young to witness death for the very first time.
Then, as if by a flick of a switch, the caller grows still in a snap instant. Believing her to have calmed down, Tellah reaches out once more but immediately recoils upon feeling a burning sting. The sage grips his frostbitten fingers while looking back at Rydia and notices the small cold puffs becoming more visible with each steady exhale. The atmosphere around the child has fallen well below the freezing point, how she's even surviving within it eludes him, and its area of effect expands until razor-thin layers of ice begins forming in patches on top of the water. He has no idea what she's aiming to accomplish here, but encasing the mercenary beneath the lake won't be helping matters any.
Rydia drops to her knees and the air gradually returns to normal; perhaps she has given up after realizing the futility of it all, “She tried her best. That is more than anyone can ask of her.”
Tellah is about to take the crestfallen child away but something distracts him. Originating from the caller, a pale, opaque line is coloring the slanted ground and traveling downward. Upon hitting the waters, it instantly freezes a concentrated, circular portion and completely stops the remaining tip of the platform from sinking any further.
Even as the sage wanders in front of Rydia, her glazed eyes remain rooted on the icy spot and continue staring right through him like he isn't even there. Several seconds pass and a continuous sound akin to crinkling paper can still be heard, yet the surrounding environment seems unchanged and Tellah is unable to see where exactly the ice is forming from. It isn't until he comes to stand on top of the column of solid ice does he begin to realize.
A target section at the bottom of the lake is being frozen from the ground up, and a giant iceberg about 75 feet in diameter is rapidly rising to the surface, carrying with it both Cecil and the Octomammoth.
It emerges out of the waters, bobbing along with the waves, and the sage blinks out of his fascination, guiding the leftover electrostatic and zapping the tentacles wrapped around its quarry.
The mercenary drops down, hacking and gasping for air, and Tellah drags him a safe distance away before the beast can hammer him into the iceberg. He struggles to scramble back on his feet but the sage kneels, placing a hand on his shoulder and uttering a single word, “Patience.”
His body sluggish and his senses dull, Cecil lies wretched on the ground and can do little more than obey. They both look straight ahead and lie witness to the beast, thrashing about and sending large chips of ice huddling in all directions. The ice's slipperiness provides no traction for the Octomammoth and it skids forward: right into the hole its pounding has made. The tiny ditch can't be more than 3 inches deep, yet it's enough to seal the sea creature's movement.
Seeing this, the mercenary tries standing in order to take quick advantage yet Tellah's hands remain firmly where they are, holding him down and keeping him in place, “Simply wait.”
Baffled, Cecil nevertheless follows the sage's guidance and watches as the beast fight harder than ever. It isn't until several minutes have passed before he begins to understand.
Its thrashing dies down and another sound can be distinctly heard, one that's akin to heavy wind filtering through a damp, narrow duct. The noise comes from the creature's gills, pumping in and emptying out only the outside air. Water remains everywhere, yet its very lifeline has solidified into its prison as Octomammoth lies stranded within a hollow of its own making. It's an appropriate end for the beast who favored suffocating and drowning its victims until their dying breath.
With a last gasping intake, the Octomammoth shrivels up and expires without another sound.
Cecil stares at its still form for a little while longer before turning to him and rasping out, “Thank you, Tellah... It would have been the end of me if not for your aid.”
“Though your gratitude is greatly appreciated, I believe much of it is misguided,” the sage replies as he casts a meaningful glance towards the now unconscious caller.
“Rydia? You mean it was her?” Cecil asks, mildly stunned. Tellah nods and the mercenary pauses, as if not fully knowing what expression he should be making, “Is that so...”
The sage stands and glimpses up at the orange shaded skies, “Come. It has been an exhausting endeavor and much rest is required to replenish our strength.”
With the child in tow, the two men backtrack and soon return to Tellah's campsite where the caller's white chocobo remains sleeping by his tent. He reignites the campfire with a simple spell while Cecil lays Rydia onto the side of the bird's big cushy body and sits crossed-legged besides her, his face etched with slight worry, “Do you know what might be wrong with her, Tellah? That is, if this lies within your expertise. Is it normal for someone her age to be fainting after casting such potent magic?”
The sage considers while taking a seat in front of the fire. His closest hypothesis is that the caller may be stricken with Mana Pool exhaustion. Yet even if that was to be tapped completely dry, the subconscious mind places natural limiters that prevent any undo, premature stress on the body, which in turn should never allow the caller to pass out like this, “Tell me. Has this happened before?”
“... A similar incident had occurred, and she was comatose for a few days after.”
“Then, let us pray that bed rest is all she requires. For I can find nothing amiss, or to be more accurate, I am unaware of the finer details which could drive her into such a state,” Tellah responds as he readjusts his spectacles, “She is, after all, the first child of Mist I have ever seen outside its restricted boundaries.”
“So, you've known all along,” Cecil states, letting a little more of his guard down, and to which the sage nods.
“It was merely an inkling at first. Yet the more I observed her, the more I grew certain,” Tellah answers, “I have encountered many who come from an extended line of arcane ancestry, and it is certain this child does not belong to any of those distinguishable families. I know of only one other place which facilitates such natural mystic potency without incurring any forms of notoriety, and that is those residing within Mist Valley.”
His eyes grow distant while his features become wistful upon recalling the lost memory.
“Yes... It was 50 years ago to this day. Back then, I was still in apprenticeship and had been one of the two privileged youths to join in the expedition to the cryptic location, that small strip of land isolated from the rest of the free world. Mist had remained largely uncharted at the time, protected by a force field of unknown quantity that warded off would-be intruders from accessing the valley. The barrier itself had been harmless, yet effective in its ability to disrupt one's visual perception and sense of awareness.
It was astonishing. Mind-manipulation sorcery is extremely sensitive, much more so if the individual's psyche bears a similar human complexity, and a small miscalculation will cause immediate breakdown or bring about wild, unpredictable results. For the citizens of Mist to have always maintained such a sophisticated, wide spread hex around their borders: it truly had been an amazing feat. Only after months of trial and error did we succeed in producing a counter spell which could neutralize the barrier's effects for our entourage.
As one might expect, our forced entree was received unfavorably and our reception had been a little less than welcoming. Yet even still we offered a proposal for an equal exchange, to pool our collective knowledge together and share the secrets of our respective magecrafts for the betterment of both parties involved.”
The sage's lax smile throughout his recollection soon dips into a repressed scowl.
“Much to our chagrin, however, the residents of Mist adamantly refused and grew deaf to all other compromises we had set forward. All they wished from us was our banishment from their village.
From that day onward, they had placed an even greater barrier, one which actively displaces any trespassers who enter a set radius and physically prevents their progress into the valley. And so once more, its residents returned to their sheltered, meager existence.”
Tellah ruefully shakes his head as his flashback comes to an end. Even now, this past event remains one of his long lasting regrets. For someone like him, who has since gone on to transcribe countless scriptures and help unravel the mystic unknowns, the sage can only see their refusal to cooperate - their utter lack of action as wasted potential.
He supposes that's the fundamental difference which separates them. While Mysidia has always been an institute dedicated to the pursuit of higher learning, Mist seems more like a culture where magic is passed down merely for the sake of tradition. At least, that's the only answer which makes any sense to him.
“Ultimately, we did not achieve our primary aim, yet not all was proven futile. For example, though the scale is vastly smaller, the psychic barrier surrounding this very campsite and many other safe havens around the world are mass-produced replicas of Mist's warding hex, set now to a frequency which affects only the common monsters roaming those specified regions. The magical technique of group synchronization also stems from their influence, though our concept was created with neither form nor basis and is thus unlikely comparable to their own unique method. Even the inner workings behind the Serpent's Road are grounded on the properties of time/space magic, elements shared by the arcane art of summoning. Granted, it is highly improbable that the residents of Mist played any type of role in the portal's development. This does place into question, however, on where the technology truly originates from...”
“Might I ask a question?” Cecil finally interrupts, stopping the sage from going further into his off-beat tangent, “You spoke before of there being no relations between Mist and Mysidia. Then how is it possible for Rydia to even be performing black magic at all?”
“Ah, yes. Well, we can only hope to speculate. Though nothing is certain, there are quite a few possibilities. For one, there is always the chance that I was mistaken regarding the summoners' arcane progression, or they might have intentionally concealed the full range of their latent abilities. A separate magecraft similar to Mysidia's could have very well been constructed long before our untimely visit, which in turn would explain their outright refusal to collaborate with us. It is also possible that an outsider was accepted into their ranks and had since spread the mystic word amongst its people. Or perhaps what we just witnessed was some advance form or subdivision of summoning that does not require the presence of an eidolon in order to activate. Or it could be that this child is the lone exception, that she is just extraordinarily gifted in all areas pertaining to sorcery.”
“A single person or a whole community... so it's comes down to either one or the other,” the mercenary simplifies, looking as if he's weighed down by deeper matters, “Well regardless, I suppose nothing changes the fact that Rydia makes for an exceedingly powerful mage.”
“... I see you are still misunderstanding one key factor. The might of her sorcery is indeed noteworthy, though nothing beyond the ordinary. Given enough time, research and practice, even beginners with low magic depositions can reach the heights she has displayed. But because this child is able to operate outside any known perimeters, they cannot hope to duplicate her success,” he explains in the face of the mercenary's growing confusion. The sage considers for a moment before drawing attention to the kindling campfire, “Perhaps an example will better illustrate the point. As you are well aware, the fire here is one born of my own creation. Yet what would happen should I hold my hand above these flames?”
Cecil mulls the question over, perhaps thinking there's some sort of deeper meaning behind it, before he arrives at the logical conclusion, “You'll get burned of course.”
Nodding, Tellah continues, “Our magecraft is one that merely guides the mana to its proper course. Once fully manifested, we cannot hope to take complete control, for the purest of magic is indiscriminate and will harm us as surely as any foe.
This is but one of the crowning principles, the boundaries which all magicians have come to know and must inevitably meet. Yet for whatever unforeseen circumstances, such an issue does not exist for this child. To put matters simply, her command over sorcery is at a level of intimacy we mages today are still very far from attaining.”
Understanding begins dawning on the mercenary's face, though it's too mild a reaction for Tellah to believe he fully comprehends the magnitude of her unique scenario.
After seeing the caller's sorcery and the future prospect it can bring, even during his various discussions regarding magecraft, the sage realizes his own passion for the arcane arts hasn't dwindled in the slightest. Deep down, he harbors lingering regrets of having left that lifestyle behind.
Tellah closes his eyes, needing to remind himself once again, “Again. Never forget what is truly important now...”
His gaze opens and falls upon the caller, noting her motionless state lapse into a dreamless slumber.
“Softly asleep, hm?” Tellah observes. Her weight slowly leans to one side while she's dozing and her head taps into the mercenary's arm. Not wanting to disturb her, he doesn't bother moving and the slumbering child shifts around a bit to get more comfy, “She's quite fond of you I see.”
Cecil sits there, a look of reluctancy passing over his face as he quietly questions, “Is she..? Does it really seem that way?”
“It does.” Tellah states surely. He continues looking on and his eyes soften, “So much like Anna was...”
“Anna? And who might that be?”
“My daughter. There is little in the way of resemblance, yet gazing upon this child's face reminds me very much of her,” a profound pause, then the sage wistfully continues on, “Yes... many long years have since passed. She had been so young then... If only she displayed but a fraction of what this child has shown, our lives perhaps could have played out so very differently... ”
The sage blinks out of his recollection and offers Cecil his apologizes, “Forgive my nonsensical rumblings. Surely you would not be interested in hearing the tiresome life story of an aged old man.”
“... There's still a long night ahead of us. If anything, it can do well to help pass the time.”
He eyes the mercenary, feeling his words were not spoken lightly nor was it to satisfy his own curiosity. Tellah eases a bit, grateful for his consideration, “That, is perhaps very true. Well then...
Everything began nearly 2 decades ago, back when Anna was still little and our family still whole. We had all been living together in Mysidia where, due to my personal connections and influence there, she had qualified for a free scholarship and a reserved seat into the intermediate level of sorcery, provided she continue performing well in her classes.
Back then, it had been... unfathomable for me to think her incapable of achieving the proper results. She was born into a long lineage of magicians after all. So naturally, her deposition should be higher than most in her generation. But Anna never took her lessons to heart. She held no desires to carry on our family's legacy, her sole aspiration was to follow her own dreams of becoming a performing dancer.
All the signs had been there, yet I discarded them as little more than a child's whimsical play. It was her mother, Samantha, that later saw in our daughter what I could not. And as I continued driving Anna to excel in the path I wanted for her, I was doing nothing more than unwittingly pushing the both of them away.
Eventually, a nasty quarrel had ensued concerning the best course for our daughter's future. Spiteful words were exchanged in the growing heat of that argument and heartfelt feelings were crushed beneath them.
It was a moment in time that could never be taken back. Both Samantha and I separated soon afterwards, and she along with Anna moved back to her hometown of Kaipo while I remained in Mysidia.”
The sage removes his spectacles and busies himself by wiping the lens sedately. Granted, that was just one of the many ongoing marital issues which had led to their fallout. But he, in his stubborn foolishness, did nothing to amend when time still allowed him that chance. Even if a court jury were to find him the least accountable for everything that had transpired, none of that really matters when you end up alone with only happier memories to haunt your solitary nights.
“5 years had come and gone in no time at all, and I received word from them at long last.
It had been a telegram, stating that my ex-wife had passed away due to the desert fever...”
Tellah pauses in his monologue, needing a moment to himself, before he finally places the spectacles back on his face.
“... I saw Anna for the first time in ages at the funeral ceremony. She had grown so much that I barely recognized her, yet she remembered all too well of me and affronted only cold hostility.
I knew matters must be taken delicately if we were to become a family once again, yet all my careful consideration and planning were so quickly laid to waste in the very first step.
At the legal adult age of 15, Anna could freely choose to live an independent lifestyle from there after. She had exercised that right upon refusing to fall under my custody, deciding to remain in Kaipo where the goodwill and support of Samantha’s relatives would be there for her instead.
In that crucial moment, I had grown wise to her ways and realized what she had come to anticipate from me. And so, while standing in front of her mother's grave, I was left with either fulfilling those expectations or running counter against them,” Tellah states with a bitter, sorrowful smile, “To choose between the continuing pursuit of my life's work or to wholeheartedly resume my parental responsibilities; you must think me atrocious to even contemplate the two.”
Cecil grows passive, saying nothing of the matter. His silence says it all, however, and truthfully the sage can't blame him. He has since felt the same about himself from the very moment she came to be a part of his life again.
“Yes, I can understand. For a father to have always compromised his one and only daughter; it makes perfect sense then for Anna to scorn and rebel against me at every turn. Her favorite foods and certain allergies; her hobbies, dislikes and interests; her hopes; her dreams: all those minor, yet significant things were previously foreign to me and only then did I begin discovering.”
The wrinkles around his face grow more profound and causes the sage to look decidedly older. To have realized this at so late a stage, he really is a hopeless case. Little by little, he had thought their stained relationship was being re-mended, that they were slowly becoming a family once again. Yet even now as her father, Anna disregarded his last true wish for her and ran straight into the arms of that dastardly man, leaving just a solitary note laying on her empty bedside.
Not a single, damnable thing has changed since that time. No matter how much he sacrificed or how hard he tried correcting his errant ways, he still doesn't mean anything at all to her.
“Because I was never the father figure she so deserved... because I would never consent to their wedlock. In retaliation, she had ran away to elope with that despicable bard.”
“A bard..?” Cecil questions and the sage gravely nods.
“One who goes by the name of Edward. However, that is merely an alias, a false identity he assumed so that he could easily coax my daughter into his thieving clutches,” Tellah replies with spiteful distaste, “Both the failings of the transport route as well as the sea creature's blockade of this gorge, it is by far and wide too large of a coincidence. I can only presume that wicked bard has somehow played his hand in all of this.”
That's right. It's impossible for the sage to give his Anna away, not after he neglected so many of her childhood years, and especially not to that meek, useless bard who can do nothing more than prance around in dance and song. Love as sudden and fleeting as theirs will never survive. That's why he must stop his daughter from ever undergoing that same broken heartache at all cost.
Tellah takes his scepter in hand and rises to his feet. He may have only made mistakes one after another throughout his lifetime, but allowing Anna to marry that cowardly bard is an error that will never come to pass. On this he vows.
**********
Even long after Tellah had retired for the day, the dark knight is left sitting in front of the campfire with much on his mind. The night drags on and finally he gives an onward sigh, deciding it's better to at least go inside his own tent and escape the damp, chilly air. He moves to stand, though that slight movement still causes Rydia to stir.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” Cecil asks, though he's more thankful to see his ward responsive after only a few hours time.
The summoner motions with her head, but it was so miniscule that it's hard to say whether she gave a nod or a shake. Her misty gaze continues to rest on the kindling fire, drifting between the twilight of wake and dream.
“...nowhere here...
'cause of me...he died..?”
“Died? Because of her..?” the dark knight wonders in puzzlement, “Just who are you talking about?”
“...big...orangey...squidy...”
“I see... so you saw...” he murmurs in reply. Truthfully, Cecil isn't quite certain what this means for someone like her, a summoner who partners with sacred beasts freely at will, and he, like the countless veteran soldiers before him, has stopped giving much thought to the moral ambiguity of monster slaying. But regardless of age, race or gender, laying witness to one's first kill is sure to be an emotionally jarring experience. But for one who has already undergone so much; it seems needlessly cruel for her to be burdened with this as well, “It's not anything you could of prevented. So don't blame yourself...”
His first thoughts were to actually point out all the good she's done, that he's only alive because of her. But he just couldn't bring himself to utter those words: not to her.
Still, what he said was also the truth. Having sustained too many injuries, the Octomammoth would have probably died after a day or so even without her intervention. Yet that reason alone isn't enough for the young summoner and she continues grasping for the full meaning behind it all.
“...even if...he just wants to live..?”
Pausing, Cecil muses for an answer that will best satisfy her, “Whether they be man or beast, every living creature born on this earth shares that same instinct, and in that way we're no different from anyone or anything else. But cases of conflict will always exist, and only the correct course of action can be taken when those times arise.”
“...then...he's the one who's wrong..?”
Again he gives pause, approaching the subject with delicacy, “Unfortunately, morality holds no place here, because we each carry our own selfish justifications for wanting to live. Yet also keep in mind, for that beast to survive, many more human lives would constantly need to be sacrificed.”
“...it's that simple..?
just living hurts people..?”
Hearing her reply causes Cecil to hesitate, recalling a long forgotten time when everything inside his own little world was painted simply in either black or white, back when his concept of justice still coincided with everything that was good and right, “As sad as it is to say, that's simply the reality. No matter how much we might wish it not to be...”
“... so that's why...
everyone's gone...”
It's like slow-acting poison coursing through his bloodstream. Cecil can steadily feel his nerves seizing up on him, unconsciously aware of the terrible change in topic.
“...lots of people...must be hurting...if we all died...
it's the right choice...right..?”
His whole body turns rigid as if overcome with sudden petrification. It's too painful to hear; for what reason does the chief victim of Mist's tragedy have to be talking like this? And then everything he had said comes rushing back to him, “It's my fault... She hasn't even mourned yet, and yet she-It would of been far better if she just condemned me...”
“...but...
why am I...”
“Stop-”
“the only one alive..?”
“Just stop..!” he forcefully breaths out and his ward grows passive, if only momentarily.
“...then why..?
why did this happen..?”
She continues to question absently, trying to make some sense out of the broken pieces in her life. And here he is; the instigator who laid to ruin that very life, “... I may not know the reason, but I do know that we're the ones who were completely in the wrong. So don't ever try to justify this. Never think for a single moment that this was ever meant to be right. Promise me, alright?”
“...okay...
but cecil..?
... you're not making sense anymore...”
A soulful sigh escapes the dark knight; he just doesn't have the answers to anything anymore. If he was the type of man who can be truly satisfied with himself, then tales of boundless regret would have never inked the pages of his wrongful life, “Nowadays, I think that exact same thing too...”
Rydia grows quiet as slumber wins over and Cecil takes this opportunity to put her to bed. He returns to their spot and pauses, being sucked into the glow of the black red embers himself. Several beats pass, then he squats down and tosses in some loose dirt to smother the fire, and all becomes dark.
*****
Morning arrives. The ice has melted overnight and the gorge once more regains its pristine state. The Octomammoth's body is nowhere to be found, sunken now at the bottom of the lake, and the dark knight thinks the better of it; he'd rather not have anything to remind Rydia of what transpired here.
The group travels onward through passages, tunnels, streams and everything else in between until they finally arrive above ground where huge dunes of sand await them. And there, along the horizon, the castle of Damcyan can scarcely be seen. But even though they can't properly see from this distance, something about it appears very wrong.
*-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-tut-*
Both Rydia and Tellah curiously look up and about, wondering what that increasing, motor-beating noise is and where it's coming from. But the dark knight already knows and is left standing stunned; it's an all-too-familiar sound that he can never mistaken nor forget in his entire life. He gazes fast towards the heavens and locates the source almost immediately.
The might of the Red Wings Fleet hovers high above Damcyan, and the cargo bay for each ship begins opening in unison. Tiny specks drop down, whistling from the sky, and land with an earth-shattering explosion. After the dust settles, the desert kingdom is no more.