Chapter 28: Sidetracked ----------------------- It was late autumn in Narshe, which meant that it had been snowing for a month now, give or take a few days. The storms had come a little earlier than usual this year, but the townspeople were used to the vagaries of the weather and took it all in stride. Not so the party of five struggling against the blinding snow and wind. "si slx. un a av top," Syn grumbled. The words were ripped away by the wind, incomprehensible even to Locke, who was not more than five feet ahead. "What's that?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Useless! We! Have! To! Stop!" Syn bellowed back. Cal had been silent for most of the trip, but now he too spoke up, concurring. "We'll have to find shelter. Wait out the storm." "Do we have enough food?" he wondered, aloud. This time it was Driel who answered. "We could last a little over a week, but it would be tight rations." "I don't think we have a choice. We can't even tell where we're going. For all we know, we could have walked right past Narshe." "So, we find a cave and wait out the storm?" Reluctant nods. Locke pointed to a branch in the pass the group had been following--at least, he hoped it was the branch. Syn was right; he could hardly see. "I think there's a small cave in that direction." * * * * * His memory hadn't failed him. The cave was still there, and still stocked with dry wood--not enough for over a week, he thought, but better than nothing. In truth, the shelter was fairly spacious. He'd chosen one much larger than he would have needed alone, those years ago. Now, he was glad he had. Cal's voice shook him out of his reverie. "How'd you know this was here?" Locke paused only for a moment before replying. "I came across it a little over a year ago. I was searching for... something I thought might be nearby. There're a lot of caverns near Narshe. But this one is a dead end." "I'm surprised you didn't forget about it... luckily for us." Locke just shrugged. Then added, "We would've found someplace else." "With firewood?" He turned away and sat near the mouth of the cave, watching the snow pile up. Already, when they had entered, it had covered the bottom two feet of the entrance to the cave. At this rate, they might be snowed in within three or four days. The cave was filled with various noises as five-- well, four now--people unpacked essentials. Strangely, Locke felt alone here. Staring at the hypnotic swirl of falling snow, he felt a... silence. That was the only word for it. And his mind began to drift to another silent night. * * * * * The door closed quietly behind him. She stood at the rail, looking out over the sea, her back to him. He watched for a moment as the wind pushed a strand of golden hair across her cheek. She turned slightly--he could see her eyes, shining a strange, pale blue-green in the moonlight--then looked away again. The moment was lost. She slowly walked away, down the stairs, toward the sea... * * * * * A tap on his shoulder shook him out of the daydream. "Locke?" Driel, frowning in concern. He blinked slowly, twice. "Sorry?" "Were you planning to eat?" She gestured toward the back of the makeshift shelter, where Alcan was busily dividing a small loaf of bread and a block of cheese. Without waiting for an answer, she turned. Locke followed her to the others, and sat. Nobody had made a fire yet... that was probably for the better. Their supply of wood was limited. How long had it been since he'd thought of her? Before his sickness, probably. The meal, like all travelling food, was bland. Locke wouldn't have noticed if it had been a royal banquet. His thoughts were elsewhere. * * * * * The wind rushed past his face as he sat on the airship deck, holding a stone in his right hand. Concentrating, he attempted to follow the recently-reborn Phoenix and comprehend the paths of magic the avian lord of life revealed. It was arduous work; he had never before attempted to learn magic of this power, and he knew that mastery of the life magic would take weeks, or months, at best. But now he had the will to master it. For the first time, he was fighting for the future, rather than against the past. He felt curiously light and energetic. The stone in his hand had revived Rachel from her long sleep, if only for a short time. And she had remembered. He glanced up at the soft sound of a footfall nearby. Celes stood not five feet away, her expression unreadable. Her long white cloak was wrapped around her body as though, uncharacteristically, she was trying to hide in it; and when she spoke, it was with a strange note of hesitation, which Locke had never heard from her before. "Locke, I..." "It's all right." She nodded and sat down slowly, saying nothing. After a few minutes of silence, Locke turned his attention back to the softly-glowing magicite stone in his hand. * * * * * "Three kings, a knight, and a deuce." Setzer chuckled gleefully. "Almost, my dear, but I'm afraid I win again. Three queens and two knights." Locke looked at his hand and sighed in mock despair. "Remind me never to play cards with you two again," he joked, glancing from Setzer, who sat to his right, to Celes, at his left. "Three deuces, a page, and a seven." The three turned expectantly to the fourth player, who was peering at the cards in a puzzled fashion. After a moment, he set them on the table and shrugged, commenting, "Ouwaaou." Setzer rolled his eyes. "Well, you're the one who asked to play." Locke stared at the cards... and laughed. "I think he's managed to pick up the basics," he managed to gasp, between breaths. The others gazed at him, bewildered, then glanced at the cards themselves. Four aces and a page. Celes grinned. Glancing at the Jidoorian clock on the wall, she added, "We must be nearly to Albrook by now... I'll go check." Locke, still chuckling to himself, stood. "I'll go with you. I've been down here too long." As he climbed the ladder to the deck, he could hear Setzer's faint murmur, repeated again and again: "I don't believe it... I don't believe it..." * * * * * Locke woke, wondering why it was so dark... and sighed, as he remembered. He looked towards the cave mouth--now buried to a depth of almost four feet--and saw that the storm hadn't stopped yet. They might be here for a while. Syn, who was already awake and staring into the storm with a strange ferocity, echoed the sentiment. "We might be here for a while." He nodded. "Let's hope it's not too long." * * * * * Metal clashed on metal as Valiant impacted on the golden armor, slicing through for the last time as Kefka's pearl creation shrieked and disintegrated. "It's over, Kefka!" Terra shouted. "We've killed your hideous creations. Now show yourself!" The mad, cackling laughter that surrounded them threatened to deafen them. The room seemed to spin and darken as Kefka's voice, charged now with power but still recognizable as that of the madman who had tried to burn Figaro so long ago, rang out. "Yes, it's over, you pathetic fools. Nothing can stand against me... I'll destroy it! I'll destroy it all! And I'll start... with YOU!" A flash of light then, and Locke found himself with the other three at the pinnacle of the mountain Kefka had raised, a barren spire climbing high into the sky. High enough to break through the omnipresent layer of clouds, and burst into the warm, golden light of the sun--the light which had once shone on the world, before the fall. Before Kefka. Now the light shone only on the madman, or so it seemed. He stood radiant before them, winged, almost bursting with the magical energies he had absorbed. Kefka was an insane angel, more powerful than any of the goddesses had been. But Cyan Garamonde made himself equally imposing. "Thou shalt pay, villain!" he roared. "I strike for Doma... and the world!" And the battle was joined as the greatest swordsman in the world leapt at the angelic fiend, slashing viciously with Skyrender, a blade fabled to be sharp enough to cut the earth itself in two with a stroke. It scratched Kefka, and the gloating madman's face twisted with insane rage. "You *dare*?!" he shrieked. "That does it! You're a GONER!" And at Kefka's very word, a wave of force crashed over the spire, opening gaping wounds in the four warriors. Locke teetered at the collision and barely managed to avoid falling from the spire; Terra cried out and dropped to one knee; Celes dropped her scimitar as her sword arm was sliced open from wrist to elbow. Cyan took the brunt of the blast--Locke couldn't imagine how he'd survived it at all. A low murmuring in the background became louder and stronger, and he recognized it as Terra's voice. A swirl of prismatic sparks appeared around him, and he felt his wounds closing, his energy returning. But there was no time for thanks; the mad god Kefka was preparing another spell. "We've got to him him quick." He leapt, rolled, and stood, slashing with Valiant as he passed Kefka. "Can't let up, or he'll be able to focus his power..." With his unoccupied right hand, he drew the pearl blade, Illumina, the Sword of Light, and approached again. Cyan's blade flashed again, as he delivered four rapid blows. A blast of lightning burst from Celes' now-healed hand, to singe Kefka's wings. "We need to work together," called Terra. "This isn't enough." Kefka proved her right as he completed the spell, Fallen One. Locke nearly dropped to the ground, the life drained from his body... but Terra repeated her spell of restoration. Celes parried a blow, and gasped, "Remember what we practised? Locke? Terra?" Locke shouted an assent, and Terra, now in her Esper form, yelled to Cyan. "Hit him... hard!" As Cyan unleashed yet another sword technique, the others dropped their weapons and began chanting. Terra's spell was completed first, calling a blast of lightning from the heavens to strike Kefka. Almost immediately, Celes launched a volley of icicles at him. "I call upon the power of the Phoenix, lord of life--wrap the villain Kefka in your flame!" A bolt of flame immolated the god of destruction, and the four watched as their combined skills caused Kefka's body to begin breaking up. Swirls of magical energy, gone wild now that Kefka's will could no longer contain them, began eating his body away. And the entire time, he screamed. Not in pain, not even in defiance, but in sheer hatred. Then magic began to fade, and the warriors ran for their lives to escape Kefka's crumbling tower.