Suddenly the world reappeared around Alcan, and he squinted at the sudden light. He waited a moment, giving his eyes a chance to adjust. Then he stood up and looked around him.

He was not where he had been a moment ago. Not even close. A moment ago, he had been in the control center of one of Ludek's cohorts - /good riddance,/ he thought with pleasure; he had enjoyed running the man through with his sword - examining an unusual device. As he was looking at it, he had accidentally brushed one of the switches on it with his arm... and now he was here. Wherever "here" was. He now stood in a field; in the distance was a large mountain range. The sun was off to his left, and since it was afternoon -

/Wait,/ he thought. /*If* it's afternoon./ He glanced down at his wristclock, and saw that it was indeed afternoon: the clock read 6:80. So the mountain range was to the north. Looking around him, he saw little else; in the distance to the south, there was a coastline, and the plain extended to the horizon east and west. He decided to head north to the mountains and follow them in one direction or another, and was about to start out when he realized what he had not seen.

"Diran?" he called, again scanning the area around him, hoping fervently for a sign of his companions. "Relleyn? Halmon?" There was no response. Concerned, he sat down to think the situation over. "They'll have seen me disappear," he thought aloud. "They'll look carefully at the device to figure out what I did. If they can, they'll either try to get me back, or follow me here. And if they can't..." He chose not to contemplate that possibility, and decided to wait for the others to do something.

Twenty minutes passed, and nothing happened. Another twenty minutes went by, and another; the sun sank lower in the sky, and the air became steadily colder. After an hour, Alcan was reluctantly forced to conclude that the others had not been able to find him or determine what had happened to him. He rose slowly and started toward the mountain range. Then a gust of cold wind reminded him that he had no shelter for the night, and he quickened his pace, knowing that he would most likely still have to keep going throughout the night.

He reached the pass shortly thereafter, and started up it. As he progressed higher into the mountains, tops of buildings became visible. Encouraged, he nearly ran the rest of the way up the pass, despite being tired from walking the entire night before with no sleep.

At last he reached the entrance to what turned out to be a town. It was built into the side of the mountain, and as he looked at its layout and saw the caves dug into the side of the mountain and the machinery that still ran nearby, he figured that it was a mining town. /But where are all the people?/ he wondered as he looked around. Aside from an occasional gust of wind and noise from the machinery, the place was quiet. The doors of all the buildings were closed, but there were no lights showing through any windows, no telltale noises of people moving around. A few buildings had signs on them indicating an armor or weapon seller or an inn. Without much hope of finding anything, he decided to look in the inn first.

He walked over to the inn and opened the door. As he had expected, there was little there. Chairs were set around tables in the common room, and there was a bar in the back with a few empty glasses sitting on it; a door near the inn's entrance, already wide open, led to sleeping accommodations. Alcan thought of going over to the bar and seeing if there was anything to drink, but something stopped him. As he looked around again, he felt uncomfortable; the atmosphere of the inn felt oppressive... almost evil. He quickly left the inn and slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, he now noticed that the outside air had the same dark feel to it, but much fainter, as if it had faded greatly. /Perhaps whatever was here has left,/ Alcan thought. He turned around and opened the door of the inn again to let it air out. He still had little hope of finding anyone, but decided to continue looking. The weapon shop was nearby, so he went to that next.

When he entered the weapon shop, the air did not feel nearly as bad as that in the inn. Alcan quickly saw why: a window on the side had been opened a bit. Surprised, he wondered if anyone could still be living in the shop. He saw no one, but suddenly heard a sound from the back. Instantly on guard, he drew his sword; the open window might have been a trap to lure him farther in. He advanced slowly toward the back of the shop; rounding the corner of the counter, he noticed a stairway leading down on the far side. He proceeded warily toward and down the stairway.

The sight that greeted him at the bottom of the stairway, though, was not what he expected: a middle-aged man sat on a bed reading a book. Hearing Alcan's arrival, the man glanced up at him and said, "They're gone."

"Who's gone?" Alcan asked, confused. He lowered his sword, since the man seemed harmless, but kept it in his hand just in case.

"Everyone. The people who used to live here are gone. The fighters are gone. The monsters are gone. Whoever you're looking for is gone."

"I'm not looking for anyone," Alcan responded. "Where am I? What town is this?"

"Not looking for anyone?" The man chuckled. "That's a surprise. Everyone's looking for someone. And you don't even know where you are? You must be lost." He shook his head.

"That's right, I'm lost," Alcan told him. "I'm Prince Alcan from the country of Drellost. I don't know how I got here, and I'm trying to find a way back."

"Drellost?" the man said after a slight hesitation. "Never heard of it. You're in Narshe. What's left of it, anyway. I'm Sennil, an arms merchant."

"Narshe," Alcan echoed. "And the fighters you mentioned? Who are they? Where are they?"

"Whole bunch of 'em. Only met four, but they said they were traveling with others. Two women, magic users both, a self-proclaimed treasure hunter, and a Moogle."

"Two magic users?" Alcan asked. "You're sure?" With the help of others who could use magic, perhaps he could find a way back.

"Course I'm sure," Sennil replied.

"And a who? A Moogle?"

"Yup, a Moogle. Cutest little thing you ever saw, but they can be real vicious."

"Oh," Alcan said, not really interested in the answer. Then he asked, "Where did they go?"

Sennil shrugged. "Dunno. They said they were going to get rid of Kefka. I figure they must've, because the monsters left. Good thing, too. They were starting to get on my nerves."

"How about the townspeople?"

"They all left right after the world's breaking, when the monsters started coming. Probably scattered all over the place by now." Sennil yawned.

"The world... broke?"

"How could you have missed it?" Sennil said, surprised. "Or... I got it! You're not even from this world, are you?"

Alcan paused to consider the possibility; he had not thought of that. "Quite possible," he said finally.

"Well, a year, year and a half ago," Sennil explained, "the whole world was torn apart by earthquakes, storms, all sorts of stuff. It reshaped the continents. People said it was Kefka who did it. They're probably right."

"And so these fighters you mentioned went off to kill this Kefka."

"So they said. If they did succeed, they could have gone anywhere by now, probably trying to get on with their lives. If not, they're dead. But I suspect they did."

"But where might I find them?" Alcan persisted.

"I told you, I don't know. But I'll wager that if Kefka is dead, people will be coming back to Narshe any day now by boat. Go south, a day's journey, and you should find a dock. At least they said they were going to build one for the ships," Sennil muttered to himself. Out loud, he continued, "You can probably buy yourself passage on one of the ships. You got money?" Ignoring Alcan's positive response, he got up from his bed, pulled a drawer open, opened a box inside the drawer, and took out a handful of large gold coins. "Here's a couple thousand GP's - that should be enough to get you passage." He handed the coins to Alcan.

"Thanks," Alcan said, pocketing the coins. "For everything." He ran back up the stairs and out of the shop, hoping Sennil was right and he could catch a ship.

* - * - *

Sennil chuckled softly to himself after the prince had left. Alcan had introduced himself, carried on a conversation, and left without ever suspecting a thing. The same Alcan he had been paid handsomely to watch for for the last eight years.

Not that he would say anything, of course. He believed in letting people do what they wanted without being bothered, as he had done for the last few hundred years. He knew Ludek would be furious when he found out; Sennil had probably been "recruited" because Ludek had thought he would be easy to control. After all, how much threat could a man with a name so close to "senile" pose? Sennil chuckled again. He really was no threat to anyone, but he was also no one's pawn. He still regretted the death of the previous owner of the weapon shop, but that had been Ludek's doing, and he knew Ludek cared little about such things; had Sennil refused to take this job, Ludek would have killed him as well and found someone else.

Sennil lay back down and returned to his reading. One day, he promised himself, he was going to write down everything he knew, since others were bound to find it useful. /But not today,/ he thought, and returned to reading his book.

He awoke the following morning to a sensation of being shaken. Opening his eyes, he saw a man standing over him, looking a bit surprised. "Who are you?" the man asked with a light accent.

Alcan rose, the last vestiges of sleep leaving him. "Alcan, prince of Drellost. Do you know anything of the people who were going to fight Kefka?"

Taken aback by the forcefulness of the question, the man took a moment to respond. "Of course," he said. "You don't?"

"No, I don't," Alcan said impatiently. "And if you want the whole story, I'm from another world and I don't know how I got here."

"I see," the man said slowly, although he clearly didn't. "Yes, I know of them. Everyone does. And they've already killed Kefka."

"Where can I find them?" Alcan asked. He glanced past the man, seeing that there was indeed a ship at the dock - two, in fact, and both were discharging passengers and their belongings.

"They could be anywhere," the man answered, "but listen for talk of an airship and you'll find them."

"Thanks," Alcan said. Then he strode quickly onto the dock and to the gangplank of one of the ships. As the last few passengers were disembarking, he made his way past them and onto the ship. Finding the captain, he asked, "Where are you going next?"

"I'm returning to Kohlingen," he replied. "Why? Do you want passage? That'll cost, you know."

"Yes, and of course," Alcan replied. "How much do you want?"

"To Kohlingen...." The captain thought a moment. "500 GP."

Alcan reached into his pocket, pulled out five of the coins the old man had given him - he had looked at them the previous day and discovered that they were all marked with "100" on each side - and handed them to the captain. "When do we leave?"

"Impatient, aren't you?" The captain chuckled, then looked at the gangplank, which was now empty. "I'd say right about now." Then he called out orders to some crewmembers, who readied the ship for departure. "It'll be a few days before we arrive," he told Alcan. "The rooms are down there," and he pointed to a stairway. "Take your pick. By the way, the name's Marad, Captain Marad."

"Thanks," Alcan said, "but I think I'll stay up here for now." Alcan had always liked the sea and sailing, and as the ship left the dock, he stood by the railing looking out over the water. He stayed on deck, sometimes standing by the railing, sometimes walking around, until the breeze started picking up early in the afternoon. Guessing that there might be a storm coming, he started toward the stairway so he could stay in a room and remain dry.

Then the heavens opened up.

Almost instantly, the sky blackened and rain began pouring as if from a bucket. Thunder crashed and lightning struck all around. The ship was tossed back and forth, side to side on the churning water. Alcan was thrown to the deck, unprepared; his wristclock was torn from his wrist, and it skittered away across the deck and off the ship. He cursed as he managed to grab onto the railing of the stairway that led to the ship's passenger rooms. He was safe for the moment, but he heard the cries of several of the crew as they were thrown overboard. Then he saw Marad sliding past him on the deck. "Marad! Grab my hand!" he called. Marad apparently heard, for his hand shot out as he passed Alcan. Alcan grabbed it, and at the same time, he drew as much magic as he could and willed the monstrous clouds to dissipate.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the clouds gave way, the rain lessened, and in a couple of minutes, cracks of blue sky shone through. In a short time, the sky above the was cloudless, although distant black clouds could still be seen in all directions. The sea calmed, and people who were hanging on desperately to whatever they could find slowly pulled themselves to their feet. Marad got to his feet as well, saying, "That was one hell of a storm." Scanning the remaining crew quickly, he added, "Damn! Four missing."

"Magic," one of the crewmembers muttered, and others echoed the sentiment. "No storm comes and goes that quickly."

"Nonsense," Marad said, rounding on him. "You know as well as I do that there's no such thing as magic. Now, we're missing four. Spread out. See if they're hanging on anywhere." The crew moved quickly to obey the order.

Alcan tapped Marad on the shoulder. "He might be right," Alcan said softly, as Marad turned to face him. "I felt a... resistance... when I was clearing the storm up."

Startled, Marad said, "You... used magic? To clear up the storm? But how?"

"Yes, I did," said Alcan, and he proceeded to explain himself once again.

Marad's eyes were wide with surprise as Alcan concluded, "I'm guessing that there was magic involved in creating that storm as well."

By then the crew had returned, faces downcast; they had not been able to locate any of the missing crewmembers. Marad saw them return and asked, "Did you find them?"

The only response was a few people shaking their heads "no".

Marad remained silent for a moment, then continued, "You may be right about that storm. Our passenger here" - Marad indicated Alcan - "is a magic user from another world, and he says magic was probably used to create it. He was responsible for clearing up the storm, so you owe your lives to him."

There were a few scattered "thank you's" from around the crew and a couple of surprised stares, but most of the crew did not react. One muttered, "Better if he had saved the others too," which earned him a slap across the face from Marad.

"I think I'll go down and take a rest now," Alcan told Marad, tired from the effort used in clearing up the storm as well as from his relative lack of sleep over the past few days. He went down the stairs, opened the first door he saw, lay down on the bed inside, and promptly fell asleep again.

The sight of people wandering back and forth in the town, going about their business, reminded him suddenly of another day, several months ago, when he had walked into a similar-looking town after a hard journey, only to learn the next morning that his family had been killed. Something, perhaps a sixth sense of some sort, had stopped him from revealing his identity, and he had left that day, unnoticed by anyone, with a single purpose: revenge.

His thoughts turned to his mother, the only member of his family that had not been killed with the rest; she had disappeared several years earlier while she was out riding. After a month-long search, his father had reluctantly declared her dead. As Alcan had later discovered, Ludek and his cohorts had been responsible for her disappearance as well as his family's death; his mother, as far as the Lieri could tell, had been somehow transported to another place, and Alcan held out hope for finding her one day.

Then he had a sudden, startling thought. /What if that device was the same one she was transported with? What if she is here, in this world, somewhere?/ There was certainly no reason to rule out the possibility. Although finding a way home was still important, he decided he would not return until he found his mother or knew for certain she was not here.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone who bumped into him. "Sorry," said a young girl from his side.

He turned to face the child. "No, it's my fault," Alcan said. "I shouldn't have been standing around in people's way." He was about to follow his own advice and look for where he might get some information, but he was stopped by the same sense that had started him on his quest for revenge and had probably saved his life. He asked the girl, "Do you know anything about the people who were fighting Kefka, or where they are now?"

"Umm..." The girl thought for a moment. "Some people were talking about their airship. They said it crashed near Jidoor."

"Thanks," Alcan said. /Jidoor. Wherever it is, it's a place to start. If they survived the crash./ He hoped they had. He started heading toward the inn, planning to listen to conversation in the inn's common room. On the way, his thoughts returned to his mother. /How am I going to find her?/ he wondered. If she was in fact in this world, she could be anywhere. Perhaps if he could get his hands on and fix that airship...

In the inn, the common room was about half full, with a few empty tables and two or three people at most of the others. Alcan sat down at one of the empty tables in the back corner of the room and began listening to the chatter around him, picking up fragments of various conversations.

"I'm telling you, that was *not* a natural storm..."

"I oughtta be leaving soon. My wife hates it when I `just sit in here all day.'"

"Have you seen how quickly things are growing back now that Kefka is gone? It's amazing!"

And so on. Alcan remained for nearly an hour, but did not learn much, except that Jidoor was south of Kohlingen, a place called Figaro was rumored to have assembled an army - which rumor was treated with considerable surprise and dislike - and a tall young man had collapsed at the town entrance a few days earlier and had been seen heading for the port the following day. At that point, Alcan decided to buy himself some supper, and then rent a room for the night, for it was getting late.

As he settled himself down in the bed - fairly comfortable, he noted with approval; while the accommodations were not as good as those of a first-rate inn back home, they were not at all bad, either - his thoughts began to wander. /Jidoor, Figaro... I'm going to need a map of this place. And more money, too./ He had spent nearly half of what the man in Narshe had given him. /And that young man. If he did leave on a ship, he probably got caught in that storm. Too bad. That storm... but Marad said there was no more magic. Who made it? Why? Not Ludek, he doesn't use magic, I don't - no, he doesn't. Not that it makes a difference, I'll kill him anyway. Once I find a way back home./ As he drifted off to sleep, his final thought was, /Mother, I *will* bring you home.../

"You have to go by ship," the innkeeper replied. "Didn't used to be that way, before Kefka. Now you have to go by ship to almost everything." More to himself than to Alcan, he added, "At least the bastard's finally gone."

"Thanks," Alcan said. "And thanks for the room." He headed out of the inn, and then toward the port to the north. Suddenly he remembered Marad from the day before, and quickened his pace, hoping the captain had not left port yet.

When he got to the port, he scanned the coast, looking for Marad's ship. Moments later, he saw it, almost hidden behind the other ships closer to Alcan. The ship was bustling with activity, apparently readying for departure; Alcan broke into a run in an attempt to reach the ship before Marad left.

"Captain Marad!" Alcan called as he approached the ship. Two crewmen were pulling the gangplank back onto the deck when he reached the side of the ship. "Captain Marad!" he called again.

A moment later, Marad came to the edge of the deck. "Who are you and what do you want? I'm leaving."

"Prince Alcan, and I want to know where you're going," Alcan replied quickly. He was conscious of several stares on him at his use of the title, but he ignored them. "I need to get to Jidoor."

Marad blinked in surprise, peering down more closely at Alcan, then snapped an order to the crewmen handling the gangplank, who immediately extended it again. "You're in luck," Marad told Alcan as the latter started up the gangplank. "I'm just about to leave for there. I'd be honored to have you aboard."

Alcan stepped onto the deck and shook the captain's hand. "Thanks," he said. He wondered whether Marad had actually been planning to go to Jidoor before Alcan had arrived, but decided it would be inappropriate to ask. "How much will it cost?" he asked, reaching into his pocket.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Marad said quickly. "It's my pleasure. Now, I have to get us going, so if you'll excuse me..." He left Alcan and began calling out more orders.

Alcan remained where he was and watched the crew with interest; he had always liked the sight of a large group of people working under a leader to accomplish a task. /I might be like him someday,/ Alcan thought. /Except I won't be leading men out to sea, I'll be leading them into battle. Father would have hated that./ He sighed; it wasn't really relevant anymore, since his father was dead and his kingdom - his now, not his father's - was on the road to total ruin.

Before long, the ship left port, and Alcan then sat down to enjoy the sea air.

* - * - *

"You enjoy the sea, don't you?" Marad said later that day, standing next to Alcan by the railing on the edge of the deck. "I can tell."

"Yes, I do," Alcan responded. "It's wonderful. Fresh air, clear skies. So beautiful..." His voice trailed off. "So free..."

"Well, I'll be happy if we don't get another drenching like we did last time. You'll see to that, right?" Marad chuckled.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Alcan managed a weak smile and replied, "I'll do my best." Countering that storm had taken everything he had been able to muster. Tentatively, he reached for magic, and felt it, like something just out of sight that he could grasp. It was not as strong as he had become used to on his world, but it was no weaker than it had been during his first few days here, and perhaps even a little stronger. He breathed a mental sigh of relief. /Perhaps that device, whatever it was, had something to do with this,/ he thought.

"You'd make a fine ship captain, I'd say," Marad was saying, and Alcan returned his attention to the captain.

"Thanks." Alcan paused. "So how long until we reach Jidoor?"

"Four, five days. Depends on the wind."

Alcan nodded. "I see."

Suddenly one of the crew members called out, and Marad said, "Excuse me," and went over to see what was happening. Alcan sat down once more, determined to enjoy the freedom of the sea while he could.

"We're nearly to Jidoor," Marad said. "But there's something I think you need to see."

Alcan sat up, stretched, rubbed his eyes, and asked, "What's that?" For some reason, Marad's tone of voice made him concerned, although he could not explain why.

"Come on," Marad said. He started out the door and beckoned to Alcan, who jumped off the bed and followed him. They ascended the stairs to the main deck of the ship, and Marad then silently pointed ahead of them.

But Alcan did not need Marad to tell him where to look as he stood at the top of the stairs, staring in shock at the ruins of what had probably been a fine town. Most of the buildings he could see from the ship had been completely charred, and none had escaped some sort of damage. Nothing green was growing for some distance around the town. There were some figures - they appeared to be soldiers, although Alcan could not be certain at that distance - surrounding the town.

"That was Jidoor?" Alcan asked Marad.

"Yes..." Marad answered slowly. "That... *was*... Jidoor."

"I take it you did not know this had happened?"

"No, certainly not."

"Who could have done this?" Alcan wondered out loud. "I thought they had killed that Kefka."

"They had," Marad replied, "or at least that's what everyone said. There is one way to find out. Excuse me." He ran off, leaving Alcan staring silently at the ruins.

A moment later, Marad returned with what looked like a miniature telescope. From the way he put it to his eye, Alcan guessed it served a similar purpose. Then Marad's mouth fell open, and he muttered, "Impossible... can't be..." Taking the telescope from his eye, he turned to Alcan and explained, "Those are Figaran troops, from Figaro Castle. Ruled by King Edgar." More to himself than to Alcan, he added, "Why...?"

"Who's this Edgar?" Alcan asked. "Was he on Kefka's side?"

"I should say not!" Marad said forcefully. "He was one of the ones that killed Kefka!"

"Then why this?" Alcan wondered out loud. Marad shrugged, frustrated. "Unless... unless he's being controlled..." /No. Ludek can't have reached this far. But why else would this Edgar have done such a thing?/

Within minutes the ship had reached the shore. Alcan thanked Marad for the journey and disembarked; then he started toward the remnants of Jidoor, hoping that there was still someone there for him to find.