Chapter XXIX
Let Slip the Dogs of War
The doors of the throne room swung open, and Gareth strode inside at a hurried pace. At the far end of the room, seated upon the throne was King Zaow, in his battle armour, a sheathed sword at his side.
"My king, I just received word from one of my soldiers. The Acarians are advancing into the city. They've past the third district."
"So there is only one district left before they reach the palace," Zaow muttered. "They are advancing too quickly..."
"Your majesty, perhaps-"
"Are the barricades set up?"
Gareth nodded. "The palace doors are blocked, and the men outside are setting up spiked barriers on the steps as we speak."
"Very good," Zaow said. "That should slow them down, at least." But he knew it wouldn't stop them. The city's defences were too weak... T'Saw had never encountered a battle within the city's walls. They had no way to retreat, and they'd no way to prepare. Zinoro and his men had literally appeared from nowhere, right within the city.
He knew the chances of defeating Zinoro were too low to consider it a possibility. His only option now was to surrender as soon as he could, to reduce the loss of life as much as he could. Trist and Selphie were hiding underground, but he knew that the possibility of defeating the Acarians was too low, and the possibility of escape was zero. If it came down to it, he would have to choose between his kingdom and the lives of his children.
And he knew which one he would pick.
"Your majesty, perhaps you should take shelter as well," Gareth insisted. "If the Acarians should break through our defences-"
"Then I will be here, prepared to face Zinoro myself," Zaow said. "He came here to see me, did he not? I will not hide from him."
Gareth frowned. Clearly there was more he wanted to say.
"Get back out there," Zaow ordered him. "You have a battle to fight!"
Hesitating for the briefest of moments, Gareth nodded, then turned around and made his way back out to the entrance hall. The throne room doors swung in his wake, and closed with a loud, resounding bang. King Zaow was left alone, silence his only companion.
Zaow sighed, his old body aching and weary. The battle and travel of before had taken too much out of him. He could not make such a journey again.
He felt old. Too old to still be ruling a kingdom. In the old days, when he was still a passionate young man, he would have charged out into the streets with his sword held high, and faced Zinoro himself. He'd done it once before; back when Zinoro's father had tried this. That battle had been long and bloody, but in the end, Manorith had fled.
Zinoro was a far greater enemy than Manorith had been. No force under Zaow's command could hope to stop him, and he had known that, which was why he had tried so hard to keep this conflict from happening.
In the end, the mistakes of his past had caught up with him.
All he could do now was hope for a miracle.
Siora met Blight in the air, and there was a brief flash of energy as the manaflame of each sword clashed. The presence of the two flames felt like a heat to Luca, even though it was not a true flame, but a strong presence of mana. Luca pushed against Zinoro, and the Acarian king fell back. It was true indeed; the two were finally evenly matched.
Zinoro glanced down at the flaming sword in his hand, and then at Luca's. "This has to be the first time two Rixeor Fragments have met on the battlefield in years," he said. "Tell me, why did you not use this power in our first battle?"
"I didn't know I had it," Luca said. "The sword was asleep."
"Ah. More of Lodin's work, it would seem. It truly is a shame he did not fight back when I found him at Arimos. That would have been quite a battle."
"My father did not fight you because he felt guilty for what he did," Luca said. "He could not kill the son after killing the father as well."
"He was weak."
Luca took a few steps away from Zinoro, and assumed a combat stance, his sword level. "You mistake the lack of hatred in others as weakness. People have other strengths. That, Zinoro, is your weakness!"
Luca gathered his mana, feeling it amplified by the sword he held. He used his teleportation magick, and warped to the very top of the fountain behind Zinoro. In the tiny of window of time it took for Zinoro to relocate him, Luca created a handful of magick needles and threw them at Zinoro.
The Acarian king easily dodged. "You're going to need different tricks!" Zinoro then charged towards Luca, leaping into the air several lengths higher than an ordinary human should have been able to. His claymore held high, he brought the blade down on the fountain that Luca stood on, slashing through a glorious statue of Zaow's father.
Luca jumped away just in time, before the statue he stood on broke apart in several pieces. Zinoro landed in the knee-high water, and slashed again, his sword easily cutting through the marble. Water began to spray out, some pipe having been destroyed in Zinoro's attack.
There was a rumbling in the ground, and Zinoro glanced worriedly at the fountain. He hastily ran to the edge and jumped away, just in time to keep from being thrown back by the geyser that burst out from the ruined fountain.
As water rained down from the sky, Zinoro landed expertly without a misstep. Luca then appeared right in front of him, and he brought his sword up just in time to keep from being sliced in half.
Caught in a parry, Luca tried to break away, but Zinoro pushed back, keeping their engagement. His footing unsure, Luca momentarily stumbled, and Zinoro pressed his advantage, pushing hard against Luca. He lost his balance and fell backwards, onto his back.
A second later, Zinoro's claymore came down on him. He rolled out of the way, and the blade sliced into the paved street, leaving a slash several metres deep in its wake. As Luca rolled, he pushed himself back onto his feet, and gathered a bit more mana.
Luca threw another set of magick needles, then quickly warped to the other side of the street. He threw a second set, catching Zinoro between them.
As he expected, Zinoro jumped into the air to avoid the needles. Luca warped into the air, above Zinoro, and brought his sword down as he fell.
Zinoro reacted perfectly, blocking Luca's stroke with one of his own. The impact of the two blades meeting was so intense it pushed Luca back up into the air, reversing his fall.
The sound of rushing water filled Luca's ears, and he realised where he was going. He turned his head, trying to spot somewhere he could warp to, but all he saw was the geyser of water. He hit the water, and it knocked him back.
Losing awareness of what was happening, Luca fell and hit the ground. Pain shot through him, and he rolled some distance, his sword falling from his hand in the chaos.
He couldn't tell if any bones were broken. He had no time to spare writhing in pain; Luca forced himself to rise. Despite the intense pain in his arms and legs, he climbed back up to a standing position. His legs weren't broken, at least, and his arms seemed to be fine. Still, the pain in his chest worried him.
Luca took note of the situation. His sword was a few paces away, the manaflame having died out the moment it had left his hand. Zinoro stood a safe distance away from the geyser, and seemed to be short of breath. Was it possible he was tiring?
Again, Luca thought of Zinoro's uncanny ability to predict his reactions. Gareth had said something similar to that earlier; that no matter what kind of attacks his men tried on Zinoro, he anticipated them all. It was too precise to be coincidence. It was almost like Zinoro could see the-
"Of course!"
He'd forgotten. His memories of the fight earlier had been hazy, but Zinoro had admitted it. He could see certain things just before they were about to happen, he'd said. Part of that was undoubtedly anything that could cause him harm.
Zinoro's gaze was on him. Luca saw him glance quickly at Siora, resting on the ground. Luca knew what he was thinking. Zinoro could not take his sword, because it would burn him, but if he could get between Luca and h
is weapon - the only thing that made the fight equal - it would be over quickly.
Luca's eyes met Zinoro's for a brief moment.
They both took off at a run.
The throne room doors swinging behind him, Gareth stepped out into the hallway. Brand, who stood with Wiosna and five Sonoian guards, turned as the captain emerged.
"Orders, Captain?" asked one of the guards.
"We're going out there," Gareth said, pointing at the palace doors. "We have to keep the Acarians from breaching the palace doors. We must protect the king!"
"Aye!" said several of the guards, though they wore expressions that betrayed their enthusiasm.
"We'll help you," Brand offered.
"You two are Allmans, right?" Gareth asked. "That's good. The Allmans helped us the first time the Acarians came here. You all are the best of the best, they say. Perhaps your aid will tip the scales in our favour."
Gareth started for the palace doors, and the others followed behind him. As they ran, Brand saw Wiosna looked less than confident.
"What is it?"
"He says we're the best," Wiosna muttered, "but our temple fell in a surprise attack just like this."
"That's true," Brand said. "Perhaps if Allma the Third hadn't been a corrupt scumbag, we might have had a chance. But that's in the past. Don't worry about that sort of thing... just fight and take out as many of them as you can!"
Gareth pushed open the palace doors, and ran through. As they emerged into the war-torn city streets, Brand looked out at the long steps of the Ivory Palace. A young boy was running, distributing arrows to archers positioned on the steps. Another team of archers, already armed, were making their way into the city, disappearing into a side-street. Various soldiers were busy setting up spiked barriers on the steps to slow down the Acarians, and at the very foot of the steps was a makeshift barricade of crates and spears.
"They were completely caught off-guard," Wiosna muttered. "These defences are not nearly good enough."
Ignoring that, Brand turned to Gareth. "Where will we be stationed?"
The captain pointed down to the other side of the barricade, where fifty or so soldiers were gathered. "At the very front line."
"They're coming!" shouted one of the archers.
They looked out, as far as they could see. The Acarians were charging down the street towards the palace, gathered in groups of five or six. Quickly estimating, Brand figured there couldn't have been more than fifty in total. He almost let out a sigh of relief.
And then more followed. A second wave. And then a third. And a fourth.
"There's so many..." one of the Sonoian guards muttered.
"Let's get down to the front lines, now!" Gareth shouted, starting down the steps. He stopped, when he saw that none of his men were following him. "What are you doing?! Let's go!"
"What's the point?!" one of his men exclaimed. His eyes were wide in fear and panic. "There's far too many of them! We could never hold off that many! We're all going to die!"
Gareth stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing in anger. Brand and Wiosna exchanged glances.
"Yes, you probably are going to die," Gareth said in a low voice. "There are indeed far too many of them, and we were not prepared for this attack at all. The city is most likely lost, and the king will probably be killed. Now tell me how you would choose to die? Hiding in some corner, crying in fear, like a spineless coward? Or down on those streets, fighting like a man?!"
Gareth turned back around, and took off towards the barricade. "If T'Saw is to fall today, I will have it be known that it fell fighting until the bitter end!"
Brand and Wiosna followed after him, and as they reached the other side of the barricade, Gareth turned and glanced back at the steps. His five men were fleeing back into the palace.
"Cowards," he spat. In a louder voice, he shouted to the group of soldiers at the barricade, "Your fellow soldiers are fleeing right now, abandoning their city to these Acarian scumbags! Are you lot going to do the same?!"
The revenants were drawing closer.
The group of soldier shouted in unison, "Never!"
"Good," Gareth said, grinning. He drew his sword, and stepped out to the front of the line. "Prepare to die."
Whether that was meant for the Acarians, or his own men, nobody would ever know. As the first wave of Acarians reached them, Gareth's sword was the first to draw blood.
"This is it."
The guard before them stopped before a heavy door. In the underground passage, surrounded by stone, the only way they could see was through the light of the torch the guard carried.
Emila glanced at her younger sister, who looked worried and afraid. Eva had hardly spoken at all since their arrival at T'Saw. Emila understood that she was likely afraid, as there was a battle going on just outside. So much was happening to her, after she had spent the last few years in Acarienthia, seeing no one but Zinoro. It was little wonder that she was confused.
The guard knocked on the door a few times, in a very specific manner that was undoubtedly a code. They waited a few moments, until the door was unlocked and opened.
It swung open at once, and a man stood in the doorway, holding a large halberd, eyeing them suspiciously. Emila recognised him at once.
"Jared," she said.
He blinked, finally realising who she was in the dim light. "Emila. It's good to see you."
"Good to see you, too," Emila said. She nodded to Eva. "This is my younger sister, Eva."
Jared looked at them for a moment, not sure what to say. "I see." He then said to their guard, "You brought them here for their safety?"
"I did."
"Well done," Jared said. "Get back upstairs. I'll take it from here."
The guard nodded, and left, disappearing in the darkness. As he left, the light from his torch faded, and the only illumination was the soft glow of a light inside the room.
"Come on," Jared muttered, moving out of the way so they could enter the room. They stepped inside, and Jared closed the door behind them. There was a click as Jared locked the door.
The room was small, but with enough space for several people. There was a table in the middle, and a few seats around it. Six beds rested against the wall, and on the other side was a cluster of crates. There was another, much smaller room on the other side, which seemed to be a bathroom.
In addition to Jared, there were two other guards, who stood leaning against the walls. Trist, the prince of Sono, paced impatiently, while Selphie was seated on one of the chairs, biting her thumb.
As they entered, Selphie looked up. "What is it?" she asked, before seeing Emila. She immediately rose and ran across the room, excitedly hugging Emila.
"You're alright!" she said.
"Er, yeah," Emila awkwardly muttered.
Selphie released Emila. "You really worried us when you ran off by yourself. What happened? Why did you leave? How did you get back here?"
"It's..." Emila frowned, not sure where to begin. "It's a long story. A really long story, actually. But I left because I thought I could stop the war. It turned out I couldn't do anything... but Luca found me, and brought me back here."
She knew she couldn't tell Selphie about her... connection to Zinoro. Emila had no idea how Selphie would react to that, especially as he was currently attacking her home.
"I see," Selphie said. "Yes, now is not the time for long stories. I take it Luca's out fighting right now?"
"He is." She was trying not to think about that.
The excitement of seeing Emila again fading, Selphie's expression faded. She looked worried. "They came out of nowhere, just like before. We weren't ready at all. My father sent my brother and I down here. I have no idea what's going on out there."
Selphie then noticed Eva, who was standing half-behind Emila, keeping to herself. "Who is this? She looks like a younger you..."
Luca dived, and his fingers grasped the handle
of his sword. The momentum carried him, and he continued to roll, avoiding the swing of Zinoro's sword by a mere second.
Luca hit the edge of the damaged fountain, collapsed in a sitting position. Though the previous geyser had died out, the broken pipes still sprayed their water in the air, creating an artificial rain. He sat under this rain.
Zinoro pulled his sword out of the ground, yet another slash left in its wake. Rather than continuing his assault against Luca, he stood in place for a moment, and the manaflame on his sword faded and vanished. Zinoro slowly turned and faced Luca. It was impossible for Luca to tell if the droplets that fell from his brow were sweat, or water from the fountain.
"Taking a break?" Luca asked, chuckling without mirth.
After a moment, Zinoro replied, "Something like that."
The Acarian king looked out over the city, taking in the sight of the destruction his army had brought to it. His expression was unreadable.
"Are you proud of what you've done?" Luca asked him.
Zinoro did not answer.
Luca drew himself up, and brushed his now-soaked bangs from his eyes. As he did, Zinoro looked back over at him, and his gaze was drawn to Luca's left cheek.
"Yeah, its still there," Luca said. "It always will be. You gave me that to remember, and I am remembering everything. If you're looking for forgiveness, you've come to the wrong person."
Luca lunged forth, his sword springing to life in white fire. Zinoro had no time to conjure his own manaflame. He blocked Luca's attack, and was knocked back by the sheer force of the blow.
As Luca advanced, Zinoro glared at him, his single red eye glowing. Luca knew what was coming, but this time he was ready. He quickly used the mana radiating from Siora to throw up a shield. Zinoro's mana bounced uselessly off of the shield, and Luca's charge was not halted in the slightest.
"That trick won't work anymore!"
Luca brought down his blade with a hatred-fuelled fury, and Zinoro struggled not to be forced to the ground under its weight.
"D-damn!"
Zinoro jumped away, putting distance between Luca and himself. He flew through the air, and landed on the ground several metres away, right in front of a house.
Luca was just about to teleport over to Zinoro and renew his attack, when he heard a familiar voice's shout.
"Now!"
Luca looked up, and saw a group of a dozen or so men in robes, standing on the roof of a building on the opposite side of the street. Each man fired an arrow from the bow he held, and the arrows shot across the street to where Zinoro stood.
Zinoro placed his free hand over his eye patch and rolled out of the way. The arrows hit the door of the house behind him, and bounced off the stone ground where he had been standing. A single of the arrows graced his leg, but his heavy armour prevented any injury.
"Again!"
The archers pulled fresh arrows from their quivers, and let loose a second wave. Before the arrows could reach him, Zinoro kicked in the door of the house he stood before, and jumped inside. The arrows struck the house in vain.
"Damn it..."
Luca took a few steps back, to get a better look at the archers. His brother Ash stood behind them, also holding a bow, glaring at the door across the street where Zinoro had vanished.
Forty-seven, Brand thought, as he swung his scimitar and beheaded yet another revenant. He was nearing fifty kills, which was more than he'd ever had in a single battle. Even during the battle at Allma Temple, his count had not exceeded thirty.
The Acarian collapsed, vanishing in a small burst of mana, and the armour it wore fell to the streets. Brand stepped back, and spared a glance at his peers.
Wiosna looked as tired as he felt, leaning against the hastily-constructed wooden barricade, her sword, clothes, and face covered in red spots of blood. Her glasses were removed, as she always did during battle, and the eyes they usually covered were narrowed in anger.
"Are you alright?" he asked her.
She looked over at him, looking slightly surprised as though she had just been interrupted from a daydream. She gave him a half-smile and nodded.
Luca had told him, during their journey through the Grey Wasteland, about what had happened with Serpos. The things he had described sounded unbelievable, but he knew Luca would not lie to him about something like that. Ever since then, Brand had kept a close eye on Wiosna, worrying that she could snap at any moment and do something horrible.
But while her gaze carried an understandable amount of hatred for the Acarians they were fighting, it was not the look of a mindless murderer. For now, at least, he could trust her. And that was an immense relief to him, because if Wiosna did snap, he had no idea what he would have to do.
Gareth cut down the last revenant, and looked up at the streets. "Another wave is coming. Quickly, brace yourselves. We will not have much time to prepare."
They had lost a few of their men, but the Sonoians had done well against the Acarians so far. There was no strategy to the revenants' attack; they simply charged forward in a straight line towards the palace, to be cut down by the fighters at the barricade. The only advantage they seemed to have was sheer numbers; but it would seem that a single Sonoian soldier was worth a dozen Acarians.
This would have been cause for optimism, were it not for the fact that they could not keep this defence up forever. Already, they were growing exhausted, and the Acarians just kept coming and coming.
In the distance, the next wave was approaching. It was smaller than before, which Brand let out a relieved sigh to see.
"Get ready, men!" Gareth shouted.
The soldiers went back to the front line with Gareth, and held their spears ready. Brand and Wiosna exchanged glances, and moved to join them.
On the steps, the archers let their arrows loose. They struck the small cluster of revenants, and several of them fell. The archers fired once more, before the Acarians reached the barricade and were beyond their view. Several more were killed.
And then they reached the barricade, and it was the soldiers' turn to strike. Gareth, as always, was the first to attack. He swung his sword in a heavy stroke, taking off the first Acarian's arm before it could even attack. A second swing, and the head came off.
The sound of steel clashing filled the air. Brand jumped right into the fray, his sword meeting the blade of one of the faceless revenants. Brand pulled away, rather than locking his opponent in a parry. As he expected, the revenant moved in, swinging its sword in a predictable, amateurish way. Brand easily countered it, and drove his sword through the Acarian's chest.
Forty-eight.
A second revenant came up to him, eager to take the place of its fallen companion.
Suddenly, Brand felt a rush of mana.
"What the-?"
As he blocked the revenant's attack, he saw out of the corner of his eye, one of the black-armoured Acarians, standing separate from the others. In its hands was a ball of fire-form mana.
"That one's not a revenant!" Brand shouted. He swung his scimitar down and finished off his forty-ninth opponent, and then he started to run towards the unique Acarian, who now had gathered his mana up into a fiery ball that grew larger each second.
"Brand!" Wiosna shouted after him.
Brand felt his blood run cold. As a fire-form magus himself, he knew enough about the art to recognise that weave.
"Get back! All of you, get back!"
He prayed his warnings would be heard.
The Acarian sneered at him through the helm he wore. Before Brand could reach him, or do anything to stop him, he brought the fireball down to the ground.
Everything Brand saw was consumed in a fiery explosion.
Time passed. With the initial excitement caused by Emila and Eva's arrival dying down, the tension of boredom and uncertainty crept in.
Emila sat beside her little sister, resting her chin in her hands. It had been some time since they had heard any sounds from abo
ve. While the screams of people dying had not exactly been a comfort, they were at least a reminder of what was going on. Now things were quiet, and that was far worse.
Selphie sat by herself, looking as irritated and impatient as her brother, who continued to pace the room. Trist had said nothing to Emila when she had arrived, sparing her only a brief glance. Emila had spoken with Selphie, telling her who Eva was. She left out the parts about her connection to Zinoro and why Eva had been in Acarienthia to begin with; now was not the time for that. Selphie did not ask about the holes in her story, though it was clear from her expression that she realised Emila wasn't telling her everything.
Perhaps there simply wasn't much to talk about, or perhaps they were both just too worried to carry on a conversation; either way the room was quickly returned to silence, and many long minutes passed while they waited for news of what was happening outside.
Trist suddenly ceased his pacing. "I can't take this anymore. We have to go."
Selphie looked up at her brother. "Father told us to stay here. It's for our protection." There was a hint of exasperation in her voice that suggested that this wasn't the first time she'd said this.
"We don't need protection," he said. "We could be out there, helping to fight off these invaders. Instead, we're sitting down here like children while others do the fighting!"
"You're the heir of Sono," Selphie said in a stern voice. "More than anyone, you need to be protected."
Trist stared at her for a moment, at a loss for words.
They then heard a sound like a muffled explosion, coming from somewhere in the distance. Eva looked up for the first time since they had come to the safe room, and Emila put her hand on her little sister's shoulder.
"It'll be alright," she said to her.
"I-I..."
Trist strode past them, on his way to the door. Before he could reach it, however, Jared stepped in front of it, barring his way.
"Let me through," Trist ordered.
"I cannot," Jared said. "His Majesty's orders were that I was to keep you all down here, and protect you from harm."
"I'm ordering you to let me out."
"The king's orders come before yours, Your Highness," Jared said. He glanced over at Selphie for a brief moment. She met his gaze, and slowly shook her head.
"Someday, I will be the king."
"Indeed," Jared said in an unenthusiastic tone. "But today, you are just a prince."
Trist scowled, and stood before Jared for a long moment. Everyone else in the room - Selphie, Emila, Eva, and the other guards - watched, waiting to see what was about to happen.
And then the princess stood up.
"Trist," Selphie said. "Sit down."
The prince looked over at her, and then back at Jared. Perhaps he was going to try to force his way out. It would be foolish to try. Jared was armed and much larger than Trist. The prince had no weapon, and wore nothing more than a fancy tunic.
But before Trist could do anything, the sound of frantic knocking came from the other side of the door. Jared glanced behind him.
"You did not use the code!"
"Please! It's an emergency!" Emila recognised the voice as the soldier who had escorted her earlier.
Jared turned away from Trist, lifted the bar from the door, and opened it. Standing on the other side was the very same Sonoian soldier, though now he stood hunched over, short of breath. A trail of blood ran down the side of his face.
"What happened?" Jared demanded.
"The Acarians have destroyed the barricade!" the man gasped. "They're already at the front doors of the palace!"
Jared looked back to Selphie, his face pale.
"Move!"
Trist pushed Jared out of the way, and stepped out of the room. He grabbed the soldier's sword and pulled it from its sheath.
"I'm going up there!" he declared. "I'm going to fight for my kingdom! The rest of you can just hide down here if that's what you want to do!" And then he took off, the sound of his footsteps quickly fading into the stone tunnel.
"That fool!" Selphie exclaimed. "He's going to get himself killed!"
Emila rose from her seat and went over to the injured soldier. "Let me heal you."
"Thank you," he said.
As Emila helped him over to one of the couches, Jared approached Selphie. "What do we do?"
Selphie bit her lip, and thought about it. "We have to go after him. He'll get himself killed out there... and we can't let that happen. Sono can't lose its heir, not now. But..." Selphie glanced at Emila and Eva.
"We'll be fine," Emila told her, as she placed her hands over the soldier's injuries and gathered her mana.
"Just stay here," Selphie said to her. "At the very least, this place is safe." She snapped her fingers, and pointed to the other two guards. "Both of you, come with me!"
And then they were gone, leaving Emila, the wounded man, and Eva alone in the small room.
"Your injuries aren't too bad," Emila said to the soldier. "You'll be fine. What's your name?"
"...Lette."
"You'll be fine, Lette. I promise."
As her hands glowed with healing mana, the young soldier looked up at her with tired eyes. In his hazy mind, he stared up at the beautiful girl treating to his injuries, and it was as though he were looking at an angel.
Emila met his gaze, and she felt her hands grow less sure, and begin to shake. Reminded of Luca, she suddenly found herself filled with the worry that she had been trying so hard to keep off her mind. Images of Luca and Zinoro flashed through her mind. The Acarians killing the people close to her... Selphie, Jared, Brand, and Wiosna. Just like before...
Eva's hand found her shoulder. "Let me."
Emila moved out of the way, and her little sister knelt beside the couch. Eva's mana swelled, and withing a few seconds, Lette's injuries were gone.
Emila chuckled. "You've only gotten better. You're still so much better at this than I am."
Her sister looked over at her, looking a bit worried. "Em..."
"It's fine," Emila assured her. "I'd accepted it then, and that hasn't changed."
She reminded herself that she hadn't lost everything. Eva was right before her, alive and well. It was a comfort, and it almost gave her hope, but every time she dared to believe that things would be alright, she remembered just who it was Luca was fighting. Zinoro couldn't be stopped.
But trying not to think about it wouldn't help her. She was so used to suppressing everything that hurt her. It helped for a time, but things would always come back up. She couldn't run away forever.
"He's asleep," Eva said, glancing at Lette, who was breathing softly on the couch. "I... figured he could use some rest."
"Good idea," Emila said. That reminded her that they were alone. She stood up, went over to the door, and closed it. She slid the bar back in place. "If the others come back, they'll know the code. We can let them in. Otherwise, we should be safe from the Acarians... if they get this far."
"Yeah..." Eva muttered. She looked away, suddenly looking guilty. "This is... just like what happened to Sulin, isn't it?"
"It is," Emila said. "Even if they can fight off the Acarians, and even if Zinoro can be stopped, a lot of people will die. A lot have likely died already. A lot of innocent-"
"These people aren't innocent!" Eva exclaimed. "They destroyed Acaria. Our brother is doing this for our sake! For the sake of our people."
Emila turned around, and faced her sister. "Don't ever call him that. He's not our brother."
"But he is..."
"He's not!" Emila almost screamed. Eva flinched, and Emila felt guilty. She went over to her little sister, and put her arm around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you."
"Why do you hate him so much?"
Emila blinked. The question baffled her. How could someone not hate him? "Eva... Zinoro destroyed our home. He killed our parents..."
"You believe that too? Just because that guy told you?"
"Ev
a, I saw it happen with my own eyes. I watched him kill Mother myself."
Eva's eyes grew wide. She stood up, and started to back away from Emila. "No... that can't be true... he wouldn't..."
"He's a madman, Eva. He's twisted and full of hatred."
"No, he's a good person. He took care of me. We read stories together, and we sang. He cared about me. That one time, when Serpos was looking at me, Zinoro got so angry... I couldn't believe it?"
"What has Zinoro told you about the attack on our town?"
"He told me he was getting back at the people who betrayed him, and the kingdom of Acaria. I didn't believe him at first, but over time, as he told me about the kingdom, and what it meant to him... Emila, he doesn't want to be doing this, but he has to. It's the only way to save Acaria, he said."
"He lied to you, Eva," Emila said. "He attacked the town just because he was angry that his mother left Acaria. Our mother. He killed her when she refused to go back with him. And all the other people in Sulin... all the people we grew up with... he killed them for no reason."
Eva grew quiet.
"Why would he do that if he was such a 'good person', as you say...? He's killed so many people, so that he could use them to make his army of revenants, which he would use to kill even more people. He's bloodthirsty."
Eva's expression grew pained, her eyes full of guilt. "Sometimes, when we were talking, we would talk about you, Emila. He wanted to find you and bring you back to Acaria. He wanted us all to be together... like a family..."
"Eva. He's the reason why we don't have a family."
Emila's little sister blinked, and her eyes glistened with tears.
Zinoro rolled through the threshold, and kicked the door close behind him. The thin wooden door shook at the impact of the arrows hitting it, and arrowheads poked out from the other side, but they did not pierce it. A few moments passed, and no third wave of arrows came.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Zinoro then heard a faint, muffled whimpering sound behind him. He rose, and turned around to see four people huddled in the corner of the small house's living room.
There was a man - the father - balding and moustached. There was a wound in his stomach that bled and stained his clothes, but it did not appear fatal. Beside him was a woman of similar age; the mother. In her lap were two little girls - their daughters - one a few years older than the other. The four of them were huddled close together, watching Zinoro with terrified expressions.
Of course they knew who he was. Everyone knew who Zinoro was. That's why they were so terrified, not that the father had apparently been wounded earlier in the attack. The husband was clearly not a hunter or a soldier; in fact, there was not a single weapon to be seen in the house. They were completely defenceless.
Zinoro stared at them for a moment, and his gaze drifted to the two daughters. He frowned.
His hand went to the belt at his side, and from it he drew a dagger. The younger daughter gasped at the sound of the blade coming free of its sheath. He moved closer to them, one step at a time. Their terrified expressions grew with each step. Finally, he stopped, and let go of the dagger. It fell to the floor, the tip of its blade stuck in the wooden boards.
The family looked to him with fearful confusion.
Zinoro turned away without a word, and went back over to the door. Peering out through the crack, he saw Lodin's son standing on top of the building on the other side of the street, talking with one of the archers who had fired on him.
No... the boy he spoke to had the same white hair. Lodin's hair. This was the brother, the younger one who had escaped with the mother that day, all those years ago.
He had never payed much mind to the younger brother. It was the older brother who was the true threat. That seer's prophecy had specifically stated that it was the older brother who could kill him.
Zinoro felt out of breath. The battle was wearing on him. He was starting to see that perhaps Lodin's son truly could beat him. He hadn't been pushed this far in a fight since...
Well, not since Lodin himself.
A half-smile formed on Zinoro's lips. He had made mistakes in dealing with this boy. He could have just used the manaflame in their first fight. He could have finished him off for sure after the boy had stabbed himself. And he could have stayed and made sure he died off, and ensured that Eva hadn't come to heal him.
Juvenile mistakes, really. And he had made them intentionally. The possibility that he could lose excited him. It made him fight harder. A certain victory was a hollow one, after all. He had willingly gone forth with the possibility of failure as a constant companion.
That was partly why he had kept a member of his own flesh and blood by his side for the past two years, even though the prophecy said that that was his other vulnerability.
He did not know if he would win the battle, but his revenant soldiers had been given their orders already. Nothing would stop them. Even if he died, T'Saw would still fall.
Zinoro gave one last regretful glance at the family in the corner. The father had taken his dagger, and held it close.
It was a shame that not everything could be stopped.
"Brand! Brand!"
He opened his eyes. Wiosna stood over him, looking down at him with a fearful expression. His whole body ached.
"...what happened?" he said.
"That Acarian, he blew himself up..."
That's right, Brand remembered. He'd seen what that man was about to do. A suicide attack; using one's own mana to turn oneself into a massive bomb. He had hoped he could stop that man, but he'd never had any chance. When he'd realised it was too late, he had thrown up a mana shield at the last second. Had he been a magus of any form besides fire, that shield would not have saved him.
Brand pulled himself up to a sitting position, noticing his sword was back in its sheath. He was on the steps of the Ivory Palace. The first thing he noticed was at the bottom of the steps, where the barricade had been, there was now only a large, black scorch-mark.
He noticed Gareth, sitting on the steps, along with several of the other Sonoian soldiers. They all had burns of varying severity, but nobody seemed terribly injured. There were, however, quite a few of the soldiers missing. Brand doubted any of them were still alive.
"So the explosion destroyed the barricade," he asked Wiosna. "And it wiped out the Acarians as well?"
She nodded. "It's been several minutes. There haven't been any more waves since then."
Brand tried to climb back to his feet, but he felt a sharp pain in his gut, and stopped. He appeared to have a broken rib or two. "No healers around, I'm assuming?"
"They're all in the city, trying to help the citizens," Gareth muttered. It was impossible to tell whether he agreed with that or not.
"So what now?" Brand asked. "Can we get another barricade up, or..." he trailed off.
At that moment, black figures began to pour out of the buildings and alleys like a great swarm of insects. They emerged out into the streets, and began to march in perfect unison towards the palace.
Acarian revenants. Hundreds of them.
"By the light..." whispered one of the soldiers. He stood up and took a step back, nearly tripping on the white stairs. His eyes were wide with terror.
Gareth swore. "We cannot face that. Retreat into the palace!"
The soldiers did not need told twice. They fled on swift feet back to the front doors of the palace, away from the legion of faceless men.
"Let me help you," Wiosna said to Brand, haste in her voice. He did not protest. She put her arms around his chest and helped pull him up. The pain in his ribs cried out, but he stifled his groan. Once back on his feet, Brand felt his footing unsure. He put his arm around Wiosna's shoulder, and they walked - as quickly as they could - up to the palace doors.
As they rushed into the palace, Brand heard Gareth shouting, "Get those bars over the doors, now!"
Wiosna let Brand go, and he
collapsed onto one knee, gasping. Each breath he drew in brought sharp pains to his chest.
"Brand, are you okay?" Wiosna demanded.
"Can you still fight?" Gareth asked him, stepping up beside Wiosna.
"I... I don't know."
"If you can't fight, then retreat further into the palace," Gareth said. "You'll just get in the way here." He left them, barking orders at his men.
"I can fight enough for the both of us," Wiosna said to Brand. "Do as he says. Find some place safe."
"No," Brand said through his teeth, forcing himself to stand up despite the pain. "Even if I can't actually fight, I still have my magick. I'll help as much as I can."
Wiosna frowned. She didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue.
Two guards lifted up a heavy wooden bar, and lowered it in place at the top of the double doors, above two others. Gareth stood nearby, looking worn out but still somehow filled with intense energy.
Brand looked over the rest of the entry hall. The number of soldiers left was sobering, and few of them were not injured at least a bit. A couple looked like they could barely stand, just like Brand.
One of the soldiers, who was keeping watch by the window, shouted, "Captain, they have a battering ram!"
"They were prepared for this," Brand muttered. "Those mindless attacks earlier were just them testing the waters. This is the true assault."
"It looks that way..." Wiosna replied.
Gareth turned around and faced them. His expression was grim. "This is it, boys," he said. "The doors will not hold forever, so be ready when they break through. The entrance will funnel them in, but the numbers will still be overwhelming. This is our last stand... the last resistance of T'Saw! Make it count for something! We may not have any chance to beat them, but we're sure as hell gonna take as many of them with us as we can!"
The soldiers shouted in agreement, and spirits were lifted a bit, though the faces of many of the soldiers still had the weight of defeat in their eyes. Nobody there truly believed they had any chance of victory; despite that, some of them might have wanted to believe in the pipe dream anyway. The captain's words had been the final death of that hope; a harsh reminder that they were all about to die.
The unseen battering ram struck, and the wooden door bulged against the bars holding it in place. A second strike followed moments later, and the bars began to crack and splinter.
"Unbelievable..." one of the soldiers said. "So much strength..."
"They may be many, but they are weak!" Gareth shouted. "Do not let their numbers fool you! The strength of the Acarians is nothing compared to the spirit of Sono! Fight! For King Zaow!"
The third strike hit. The middle bar split in half.
"We will make a river of Acarian blood run down the hundred steps!" Gareth continued. "They will sing songs of this battle for ages to come! It will be known that Sono never gave in, never fled, and never surrendered!"
The battering ram struck once more, this time bursting through. The doors swung open, and the ram was immediately dropped. Revenants poured into the hall, all but climbing over one another to get inside.
"ATTACK!!!"
Gareth charged, drawing the first blood once more. He swung his sword and sliced off the head of the first Acarian to reach him, and then spun and struck down another like it was nothing.
"For King Zaow! For T'Saw! For Sono!"
Echoing his battle cries, the Sonoian soldiers followed their captain into the sea of black. Again, steel met steel.
Wiosna followed after them, her own blade cutting a path through the Acarians. Brand lingered in the back, a hand over his broken rib, frustrated at his inability to help them.
A massive figure in the Acarian armour stepped forth, holding a heavy axe in both hands. Gareth stared back at the enemy, accepting his silent challenge. The captain charged past the others, towards the imposing figure. The axe was swung, and Gareth ducked, avoiding its lethal swing.
Gareth drove his sword into the gaps in the large revenants armour.
"For Sono."
Gareth heard another Acarian coming up behind him. He pulled his sword to free it, but it was stuck fast.
The revenant's sword pierced Gareth's stomach, and he spat out blood. "You bastards...!"
"Captain!"
Finally, too late, Gareth freed his sword as the large Acarian vanished into death. He drove the blade into the visor of the revenant who had wounded him, and gave a bloody grin as that one too, was slain.
The revenant fell backwards, taking its sword with it. Gareth gasped again as the blade was pulled from his stomach. Droplets of red fell to the marble floor. The captain continued on in spite of this.
But he was surrounded. And wounded as he was, he had no chance against such large numbers.
"Captain! No!"
"Fight, you cowards!" Gareth shouted, as another sword pierced his chest. "...fight until the end...!"
And then, with a single swing, Gareth's head was separated from his shoulders.
The soldiers cried out, even as several others were killed. The room was quickly filling up. Each soldier was faced with three or more Acarians, and there was nowhere to run.
"What do we do?!"
Brand stepped back, and his back hit another doorway. It led to the hall before the throne room.
"Retreat!" Brand shouted. "Into the throne room!"
It was a bad idea. He knew that. The honourable thing to do would be to stand their ground and be killed, as Gareth had ordered them to do. But he couldn't let that happen. Not with Wiosna among them.
Brand pushed the door open, and limped through. What remained of the Sonoian soldiers followed after him.
"He's coming out," Ash observed.
Luca looked over at the house on the other side of the street. Zinoro emerged from the arrow-covered door, his claymore in his hands. His black hair was still wet from the fountain.
"You know what you need to do?" Luca asked.
Ash nodded.
"All right," Luca said. "Let's hope I'm right about this."
Luca's gaze drifted over to Zinoro, and Ash's followed. After a moment, Ash said, "So this is it, then? That's the man that killed our father."
"It is."
Ash's expression was hard to read. His eyes were far away; lost in thoughts that he did not share. He reached into his quiver and drew out an arrow, then placed it on his bow. "Be careful," he told Luca.
Nodding back, Luca gathered his mana and warped down to the streets, on the other side of the destroyed fountain. Zinoro stood his ground, facing Luca with an expressionless gaze.
"You're finished hiding, then?" Luca asked.
Zinoro said nothing. He responded by holding up his sword, the blade pointed towards Luca. Zinoro's mana surged, and black flames enveloped the blade.
Luca drew his sword, and did the same. They charged, the distance between them closing in seconds, and their swords clashed, drawing up a flash of mana each time they met.
Over on the roof, Ash muttered a few orders to his archers, and they all drew arrows, which were nocked and aimed at Zinoro.
Luca rolled out of the way, rising up on his other side of his opponent. He closed in and caught Zinoro in a parry.
His back now to the archers, Zinoro was blind to the flurry of arrows they fired.
But still, he knew they were coming. Zinoro broke out of Luca's engagement, and jumped up into the air. Luca, knowing the attack was coming, jumped back in time to avoid being turned into a pincushion. The arrows struck the paved street, bouncing away harmlessly.
Zinoro landed back on the ground just in time to avoid the last of them.
"You'll have to try harder than that!" he shouted.
Just as he finished saying that, one final arrow - fired by Ash himself - went flying past Zinoro, soaring just over his ear. His sole eye widened in genuine surprise, as the arrow continued on and struck the wall of the house, just beside Luca.
A second
later, his eye patch fluttered off his head, the string cut.
Luca's own eyes widened as his suspicions were confirmed. Behind the eye patch, where one would have expected an empty socket, there was a second eye. It was no ordinary eye, but a smoky glass marble that gave off a slight glow; a glow that faded and died after a moment of its exposure.
"Just as I thought," Luca said. "That was your secret. Before, you spoke of your ability to foresee attacks. Like any seer, you need mystic eyes for that, and those eyes must be kept covered, or they lose their power."
Zinoro said nothing. He looked down at the eye patch. The cut was clean; it could not be placed back on him.
"You couldn't foresee Ash's arrow, because it wasn't actually a threat to you. You told me that, back at your palace. Your hubris betrayed you."
Luca warped over to him, and delivered a simple stroke. Zinoro blocked the attack and stepped away, but Luca could see the difference in his movements now, and he knew his theory was right. While Zinoro's swordplay was still that of a master, he no longer countered Luca's attacks with the previous efficiency and perfection.
Luca looked up to the rooftop, and gave his brother a curt nod. Ash returned it, and then he and his men slipped away, leaving Luca to finish the job.
A few minutes passed, and nothing was said between the two sisters. Emila sat in one of the chairs, and she glanced occasionally at Eva, who stood against one of the walls, looking conflicted.
Emila glanced at the door. "No one has knocked. It's been too long, if they were just going to bring Trist back..." She worried for Selphie and Jared. The worse possibilities came to mind, and she felt her heart pounding. She now understood why Trist and Selphie had been so restless. It was pure torture to sit in that room, in awful silence, knowing that there was a battle going on outside, but not knowing anything as far as who was winning, or whether her friends were still alive or not.
She wanted very much to leave; to see, and even to help by fighting or healing the wounded. But she couldn't possibly run off and leave Eva by herself, with only the sleeping Lette to protect her; nor could she take Eva with her into that danger.
"Emila..." Eva said suddenly, in a quiet voice. "There's something I need to tell you."
"Yes?"
Eva took a deep breath. "It has to do with the day Sulin was attacked. I... I was with Father when those men showed up. We went into the sanctum, but he left the door unlocked because he thought you and Mother would be come. But those men showed up instead, and they... they killed him."
Emila frowned. She hadn't known the specifics, but she'd always imagined it. In her dark fantasies, her sister would always be among those cut down, but she knew now that she at least had been spared.
"I panicked. Father was dying in front of me, and I tried to use my magick to save him, just like with the fish, but I couldn't do it. The wounds were too much, and I was too distressed to focus. But I kept trying. Even after he was gone, and all that was left were his bloodied clothes, I kept trying... and then, suddenly, he was back."
"What...?" Emila sat up. "What do you mean?"
"Father came back to life. I couldn't explain it. It just happened. At first, I was overjoyed. But I quickly realised that it... wasn't him. It looked like him, but it had no mind. It couldn't speak, or really do anything I didn't tell it to do. It was just a shell that looked like Father."
Emila stared at her sister, having difficulty believing what she was hearing. "A revenant...?"
Eva nodded. "That's the name Gordon came up with for them. While I was staying with Zinoro, when I finally came to trust him, he told me about his plans to destroy Sono and rebuild Acaria. At the time it made sense. All he needed me to do was..."
She trailed off, the guilt and confliction in her eyes suddenly making sense to Emila. "It was never Zinoro at all..."
Tears ran down Eva's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I just... I just thought..."
Emila rose and ran over to her little sister, pulling her into an embrace.
"I didn't know..." Eva sobbed. "The way he spoke... I thought Sono was full of bad men who just wanted to destroy Acaria. That's not true, right? Right?"
"No, not at all. It was all just a big mistake."
Eva looked up and met Emila's gaze. "Broth- Zinoro... he's really the bad guy, isn't he?"
She was so confused, Emila realised. She had no idea what was happening.
"He's done horrible things, and he'll continue to do more unless he's stopped."
Eva hesitated for a moment, then she drew herself up, and gently pushed Emila away. Emila felt her gathering mana.
"What are you doing?"
Eva didn't answer. She held out her hand, and a sphere of mana formed within her grasp. It grew and grew, until the orb was larger than her head, and then it burst, sending out a ripple of energy that passed through the room and vanished beyond the walls.
"Eva... what was that...?"
Again, Eva did not answer. She slowly walked over to the second couch, and slumped morosely onto it. Her gaze down, she muttered, "I feel like this is the right thing to do... but I just don't know. Acaria is going to die and be forgotten..."
Emila went to her sister's side. She didn't know what to say to comfort her, so she just took her hand.
Eva looked up at her. "That guy... that Luca... is he going to kill Zinoro?"
"Well..." Emila didn't want to think about that, but she wanted to believe that Luca could win. "If he can... I know he will."
Bowing her head again, Eva let out a heavy, defeated sigh.
King Zaow rose from his throne as Brand and the others rushed inside.
"What's happening out there?"
Brand made it halfway to the throne before he doubled over in pain. He could only do so much with his ribs broken. Though gasping for breath, he said, "Gareth is... dead. The Acarians have entered the palace. They're everywhere."
"Zinoro is not among them?"
"No..."
Zaow frowned, and returned to his throne. "That means... he is not here to take the city at all, is he? He just wants us all dead..."
Brand stood up as best he could, leaning against one of the marble pillars in the hall. He turned, and counted the Sonoian soldiers rushing into the room.
Nine... ten... eleven...
Eleven. That was it. Just eleven men to protect the king and make their last stand.
And Wiosna was nowhere to be seen.
"Is this all that remains of the palace guard?" Zaow asked him.
Brand looked back at the old king, and nodded slowly.
Zaow frowned. He let out a long sigh. "I have failed my people today. And I have failed my kingdom."
There was a loud bang as the makeshift barricade on the other end of the long hallway was broken. Brand and the others turned, knowing that it was only a matter of moments before the Acarians rushed into the throne room.
Zaow rose from his throne, and approached them. He drew his sword from the sheath at his side. His ornate armour shone brightly under the lights on the ceiling. "This is the end, I suppose. I will fight beside you. What sort of king would I be if I hid in these last moments?"
Brand had no answer. He simply drew his own sword, and waited, still leaning against the pillar. There wasn't much he could do. He could throw a few fireballs, and maybe even slay a few of the revenants. But he was too wounded to fight at his true potential.
The sound of the footsteps drew closer, echoing in the chamber they had just fled from. Brand drew in a long breath, as ready as he could be.
The throne room door slammed open, and Selphie stepped through. Her brother Trist followed behind her, along with Jared and a few other guards. And then, behind them, entered Ash and a team of archers.
"Wh-what...?"
Selphie reached them, and stopped. "I can't explain it. I don't know what happened... but they're gone." She tossed an Acarian helmet onto the palace floor, which rolled over to Brand and Zaow's feet.
/>
"What are you saying...?" Brand asked. "The revenants just..."
"Disappeared," Selphie finished for him. "A ripple of mana passed through the room, and they just froze, and vanished as though killed."
"The magick that sustained them..." Zaow muttered. "It must have been undone."
Brand dropped his sword, and started towards Selphie. But the pain in his chest was too much, and he almost fell.
Of all people, it was Ash who stepped forward and caught him.
"Wiosna..." Brand gasped. "Is she...?"
"She's fine," Ash said. "She was out there, fighting on her own like a madman. After the Acarians vanished, she collapsed. The healers took her away. She was in pretty bad shape... but she's alive."
Brand let out a relieved breath, and found tears in his eyes from the sheer relief. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he slipped into unconsciousness.
Luca turned his attention back to Zinoro now. "So now we really are equal." He shifted the blade in his hand, switching to the reverse-grip. "No more tricks, no more hidden abilities. It comes down to just you and me, and which of us it the greater swordsman."
Still, Zinoro remained silent. There was a flash of contained anger in his eye. Or perhaps it was determination? Luca could not be sure.
He moved, bringing down his blade. To his surprise, Zinoro did not block it, but rather he jumped out of the way. He flipped backwards, and landed some distance away, in the middle of the town square.
"H-help me!"
Zinoro looked away, and Luca followed his gaze. A man raced for his life down the streets, pursued by an armoured revenant. There was something familiar about him. Luca's recollection told him the man was Jorus, the protester from his first visit to T'Saw.
They drew closer, the revenant ruthlessly pursuing, and Jorus crying out for someone to save him. Luca gripped his blade, about to warp over and strike down the revenant, when suddenly it stopped its pursuit, coming to an abrupt halt. Jorus tripped, and turned back to the revenant in confusion.
The Acarian soldier stood in place for a moment, then there was a flash of mana being released, and the armour it wore clattered uselessly to the ground.
Jorus stared for a moment, seemingly unable to believe what had just happened. He then noticed Luca and Zinoro, his eyes growing wide at the sight of them, and drew himself back up to his feet. As he took off back in the direction he'd come from, Luca turned to Zinoro.
"What just happened?"
Zinoro's eyes were wide, a look of disbelief on his face. A few moments passed, as something seemed to set in his mind. The shock on his features shifted to a weary look of defeat. "So you've even turned her against me..."
"What are you saying?"
"It would seem my campaign has failed, after all," Zinoro laughed spitefully. "My soldiers have been erased."
"All of them?"
"Every one."
Luca looked to the palace in the distance. He saw no change in it from before; smoke still rose from the fires started by battle. But he no longer heard the sounds of combat and death. If Zinoro was right, setting aside the reason for this change, then that meant the fight was over...
"So have you given up, then?" he asked.
Zinoro bowed his head, gripping his sword tightly with shaking hands. A wind blew through the city square, as a long moment passed in silence between them. And finally, when Zinoro looked back up and met Luca's gaze, there were tears in the Acarian king's eyes.
"For the glory of my kingdom... for the glory of my father, who was dishonoured and killed by you people... I swear that I will not stop fighting. I will do everything in my power to destroy you, this city, this kingdom, and every single person in it! I will continue, until my very last breath, fighting you all, until I am dead, or everything that is Sonoian is gone forever!"
Zinoro gripped his sword in both hands, and the manaflame surged back to life. This time however, it was stronger than ever. The black fire covered the sword and burned strong with an intensity beyond anything Luca had seen before. Never in all his life had Luca felt so much mana coming from a single point.
Strong winds were roused, and surrounded Zinoro like a tempest. Luca felt himself being pushed back, away from Zinoro by the sheer power that he was creating. His single eye glowed red, far more brightly than before, piercing through everything with its hatred.
"DIE!!!"
Zinoro brought down the blade, and a blast of pure, black energy erupted from the sword. It spread like a cone, growing in size as it travelled away from him. A sound like thunder tearing through the ground filled the air. Everything in the path of the blast of energy was obliterated.
Luca warped out of the way just in time to keep from being annihilated. He appeared many metres away, and even from that safe distance, he was still thrown back by the force of the blast. Knocked off his feet, Luca fell and hit the stone ground a few metres from where he had meant to land.
As the dust settled, Luca took in the sight of Zinoro's destruction. Everything on that side of the street was wiped away, only scorched black skeletons of the buildings remaining.
Luca climbed back to his feet, short of breath. He spotted Zinoro, still in the same spot, bent over and panting with exhaustion. For half a moment, Luca saw the image of a being standing behind Zinoro, a hand placed on his shoulder... a solid black shadow, with glowing red eyes full of undying hatred. It looked to Luca, and seemed to sneer at him.
He blinked, and the shadow was gone.
Zinoro drew himself back up, and spotted Luca. He held his sword high once more, and the manaflame burst back. The intense surge of mana began anew.
"No, not again!" Luca said. He conjured his own manaflame.
He then took off at a run, and warped over to Zinoro in mid-step. Using the carried momentum, Luca brought down his own sword and the blade struck Zinoro's.
For a long moment, they were both stuck fast, the powerful mana of each sword seeming to lock them in place. And then the recoil hit, sending them both flying back, hundreds of metres into the air.
It took Luca a few seconds to realise what had happened. And then he understood he was falling, just a dozen or so seconds short of hitting the hard, stone streets of T'Saw. He spotted the first thing he could; the top of the city's bordering wall, and warped.
His feet found the solid ground, but it took him a moment to gain balance. Nearly falling backwards off the wall, he pushed himself forth, and grabbed onto the outer ramparts of the wall.
Luca gasped, the adrenaline of the fall making him dizzy. Looking behind him, he saw the distance to fall to the streets. A fall high enough to kill a man, for sure. On the other side of the wall, the fall down to the Markira Fields was even farther.
He searched the streets for Zinoro, trying to spot him in the winding streets; having no idea where he could have fallen. He then spotted an unmistakable flash of black; not in the streets, but clinging to the edge of the opposite side of the wall. Zinoro's sword was buried in the wall just shy of the edge, and Zinoro himself clung to it, and was trying to climb up onto the wall.
Luca focused on the other side, ready to warp over and face Zinoro, but as he drew mana from himself he felt another wave of dizziness. The first sign of mana exhaustion, he reminded himself. He was running out of mana, and out of strength.
On the other side of the wall, Zinoro pulled himself up, and stood there on one knee, just as exhausted as Luca was.
Luca grit his teeth and gathered the mana anyway, forcing himself to keep going. He focused on the walkway just beside Zinoro, and warped.
Zinoro looked up as Luca materialised right beside him, and had barely a second to lift his sword up to block the attack. The blades clashed, and Zinoro scrambled away, trying to climb back to his feet.
In spite of the dizziness, Luca pressed on, swinging his sword at Zinoro again and again. The Acarian king was purely on the defencive now. He seemed to have lost all strength to force the fight. The powe
rful mana blasts had seemed to drain his reserves. This time there was no mistaking it; sweat dropped down from his brow.
Though Luca was just as tired. He felt his chest burn with every breath, and his arms and legs ached with each swing of the sword he forced them to carry out.
Luca continued to attack Zinoro, driving him back down the narrow walkway atop the wall. Even as tired as he was, Zinoro managed to counter every attack, and gave Luca no chance for a fatal blow. Neither of them had the mana left to use manaflame, so they fought only with naked steel.
And then, Luca saw Zinoro's first true mistake. He stepped too close to the inner edge of the walkway, and his foot slipped over. He stumbled, caught completely off-guard.
Luca moved in, driving his sword forth, aiming to penetrate Zinoro's breastplate. Unable to dodge, Zinoro twisted his body away from the inner ledge, all but falling onto the outer edge. Luca's blade cut through the very edge of his armour, drawing red blood.
Zinoro's expression twisted in pain.
Luca pulled back, bringing his sword with him. He swung again, and this time Zinoro parried the strike, grimacing. The blades clashed, and Zinoro forced them to the outer edge of the wall.
And then, Zinoro did something truly unexpected. Letting go of his sword, he lunged forward and suddenly his hands were around Luca's throat.
Luca fell back, the strong steel gauntlets Zinoro wore tightening around his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Luca saw both of their swords tip over the edge and fall.
Zinoro's eyes were full of a blind hatred; the glowing red eye, and the glass magick orb. Over his shoulder, Luca thought he saw the shadowy figure once more. But he blinked, and there was nothing there.
The pressure was beginning to make him dizzy, and his vision was growing dark. With no other ideas coming to him, Luca did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed onto Zinoro's breastplate with both hands, and pushed backwards with his feet. Everything spun for a moment, and then Luca felt the strange feeling one felt when they were falling.
The anger vanished from Zinoro's face. A look of shock replaced it.
The wind rushed around them as they fell. Luca spotted the ground; he couldn't say what the actual distance was down to the Markira Fields, but it was far too long a drop for anyone to survive. He looked around, trying to find some place to teleport to. But there was nothing; only the top of the wall, which he could not see well enough from the angle they fell from.
And his mana reserves were too low. He didn't have enough left to warp. There was no way out this time.
His mind worked as quickly as it could. His hands were still on Zinoro, who was staring in fear at the rapidly-nearing ground below them.
Luca got an idea. He pulled Zinoro closer to himself, and held onto his enemy tightly. He pulled hard, and they shifted in mid-air. Luca was then on top, and Zinoro was beneath him.
"You're mad!" Zinoro shouted at him over the strong winds.
A few more seconds passed, and then they hit the ground. The impact hit Luca hard, and he groaned as painful shock waves shot through his body. Beneath him, however, it was Zinoro who took the brunt of the impact. The Acarian king cried out, spitting out a mouthful of blood. His heavy steel armour shattered from the force, and pieces of it flew into the air, landing some distance away.
Luca gasped for air, having had the wind knocked out of him, only moments after being strangled. He all but crawled off of Zinoro, and moved a metre or so away before he collapsed onto the ground.
Several long minutes passed. Luca breathed, in and out, until he had regained enough strength to climb up to a sitting position. As he did, he saw Zinoro beside him. Somehow, he was still alive. Perhaps his unnatural strength had saved him. Either way, he was finished. He had not moved since hitting the ground. His magick eye was gone; it must have popped out when he hit the ground.
Zinoro's sword was stuck in the ground, the blade half-buried in the dirt, several metres away. After a quick search, Luca spotted his own blade. He stood up, his aching muscles protesting the basic effort. He was done fighting. He just didn't have enough strength left. Still, he went over and picked up his sword, then went to Zinoro's side.
He pointed the tip of the blade at Zinoro's exposed neck.
"Do it," Zinoro said to him, his voice weak and strained. "I'm finished. You've won. Now make an end of it."
Luca considered. This was it, he realised. This was what he had been fighting for, ever since that day when his father had been killed. All these long months, his sole driving force had been this revenge. And now it was his. Zinoro was defeated.
All he had to do was finish it.
"Kill me," Zinoro pleaded. "What are you waiting for? I killed your father, boy! I killed so many of your friends, and countless innocent people! Why are you hesitating? Just do it! Do what your father was too weak to do!"
And he could. It would be so easy. All he needed to do was push the sword a few millimetres forward. The sharp blade would cut into Zinoro's flesh so easily. It would be so cathartic. It would be justice.
Justice? Or revenge? What made him any different from the man in front of him? Had their positions been reversed, would he have done any different? Would revenge had become his sole driving force; his sole obsession, until he could think of nothing else? If he had never met Emila, or if he had left her behind earlier, would he have had nothing in his life to fight for beside some twisted code of honour?
Luca looked at Zinoro, and saw far too much of himself in him.
"Kill me, you coward!"
He was pleading with him. Zinoro hated himself, and he hated what he had become. He had given Luca so many chances to beat him, because he had wanted to be beaten. He had hoped that someone would have been able to stop him, because he was so lost in his mindless hatred that he couldn't save himself. He wanted to die.
Luca took the sword away, and returned it to its sheath. Zinoro's sole eye narrowed in rage.
"What are you doing, boy?! Does honour mean nothing to you?! After all that talk, after all those promises you made, are you just going to let me live?!"
"I am," Luca told him. "You're going to live, and spend the rest of your life in a cold prison cell. Every day, for the rest of your life, you're going to have to live with the guilt of what you've done."
"You shame your father's legacy!"
"That's where you're wrong. My father would be proud of me sheathing my blade. It is easy to kill. He understood that. He made his mistakes, just as I did. Why do you think my father didn't kill you, when doing so would have solved so many problems for him? It wasn't that he couldn't... he had a Rixeor Fragment, and he was a better swordsman than either of us. So why do you think he didn't?"
Zinoro looked away. He did not answer.
Luca glanced over at Zinoro's sword, stuck fast in the ground. It would remain there, possibly forever.
"You'll have a long time to think about it."
King Zaow emerged from the Ivory Palace, with his two children behind him. Everyone in the palace followed him out into the streets, which had grown strangely quiet in the aftermath of the battle.
Signs of destruction were everywhere. Doors kicked in, windows shattered, buildings burned down, and the armour and clothing of the slain everywhere.
But the battle was over, and the people of T'Saw were just now beginning to emerge from their homes. Many of them were wounded, and the city's healers were going around and treating everyone they could. Here and there, someone was crying over the loss of someone.
It was the bloody aftermath of war. And it was something King Zaow was far too familiar with.
He made it to the bottom of the steps, and then he stopped. He was too weary to go any farther. Too old, too tired, and too full of guilt.
"They really are all gone," Selphie muttered.
"So it would seem," said Trist.
Selphie frowned, looking over the street. There was bloodied Acarian armour everywhere. "But how?"
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Before they could ponder that further, someone shouted, "Look!"
In the distance, a small crowd of people were approaching the palace. It was a crowd of civilians, less than a hundred or so.
Selphie went to Zaow's side. "Father, could it be a mob? They could be angry about the attack. They might be after us, to seek justice for their dead."
Zaow frowned. "No... it is no angry mob. It is something else..."
As the crowd drew near the steps, they began to part in the middle. And there, in the centre of the group, stood a man with hair as white as snow.
"Luca!" Selphie whispered.
He approached them, and as he got closer, they realised there was someone slung over his shoulder. Luca reached the steps, and threw the unconscious form of Zinoro on the ground at Zaow's feet.
"It is over," Luca said. "We've won."
And then, they all heard a loud cry of Luca's name from the doors of the palace. They all turned, to see a black-haired girl in a bloodied white dress running down the steps.
Zaow stepped out of the way. With tears in her eyes, Emila ran past him, and into Luca's arms.
The old Sonoian king smiled, and the crowd erupted into applause.