Mog Chapter 19: Airships ------------------------- How long had it been? He had seen the airship sink beneath the clouds then beneath the horizon, but it seemed like it had all happened a lifetime ago. In truth, it had only been a fraction of a lifetime, and most of it had been spent in the company of Jen-Ren. Mog knew every second counted. Now it may have been too late. Airships were such fragile creatures, living high in their blissful ether. Sometimes storms raged and rolled through unexpectedly, but the heavens stretched far and wide, and there were always islands of solitude to be found. There were always small quiet spots to land and rest. Airships could drift far and near, high above the turmoil that scarred the earth below. And sometimes the earth, envious of the majestic airships, would rise up and drag one down to its doom. Such was the case today. Jidoor, one of its most beautiful cities, was being defiled. And who had brought about this sacrilege but those lofty airships? Airships who dared to imitate the stars; children who challenged their mother only to return in a glorious fire. Mog hadn't even gotten a good look at the airship. He had been in such a daze at the time. But he knew an airship when he saw one. He knew what they were. Airships meant one thing if they meant anything at all: Setzer Gabbiani. The last time he had seen Setzer, they had just finished off Kefka and were leaving in the gambler's airship. What happened next wasn't all too clear, but the airship had gotten out of control. Mog didn't blame Setzer. How could he? Airships were sheets of paper blown about by the winds. Setzer was the best. No one else could build them like he could; no one else could pilot them with such love, such devotion. And to think... that Setzer had survived to build and crash yet another airship. The question now was whether he would ever get the chance to do so again. Mog intended to find out. He still felt a slight guilt that he hadn't gotten to crash site sooner. He might have done something; he might have gotten there just in time to pull Setzer out of the burning wreckage. Instead he mitigated his conscience by reminding himself that his friend had luck and talent to spare. As it turned out, there was no burning wreckage when he arrived. Everything was smoldering, and even the mangled metal fittings looked charred, but it had all burned itself out long ago. Debris had scattered itself over a wide area: a corrugated sheet of copper clawed its way out of the ground in one spot; an amalgamated lump of metals - probably part of the maze of engine parts that had so intrigued Cyan - found itself standing as a silent witness; and there were blackened corpses everywhere. So many bodies. Burnt and tormented beyond recognition. So many deaths. The destruction reminded him of mayhem they had found after the Espers had terrorized the city of Vector. That had been a horrible sight: houses on fire, people screaming, and the Empire on its knees. But this was worst. It looked like nobody had survived this disaster. And it was probably a blessing. It bothered him. All these deaths. And Setzer. Not even Setzer could have walked away from this. He could smell the burnt flesh. He imagine the last minute prayers some of the poor souls must have experienced. Did they have children? Had it been worth it? Did their lost lives count for anything? But what he came back to time and again was the smell. He could feel it saturate his fur and creep into his skin. That smell... He had to get away. Mocha-ko didn't need any incentive. She wanted to get away also and started off at a brisk pace. Soon they were past most of the debris, but Mocha-ko didn't slow down. She sped up more so instead, thinking the stiff winds would wash the dirtiness from her feathers. And Mog felt no need to slow down either. They raced for what seemed like hours on end, but they couldn't distance themselves far enough away from the downed airship. Mog closed his eyes, trying to strip away the images. Then he felt a familiar sensation, a sudden weightlessness as though he were falling through the air. * * * * There was no telling how long he had slept or what dreams had visited him in his slumber. Mog woke to find Mocha-ko's dark outline hovering over him. She gave him one last lick for good measure before Mog waved her away. He could see that the sun must have been setting, though he couldn't see the horizon from where he sat. The sky darkened to a deep blue twilight overhead, and the shallow crater he found himself in grew a measure quieter in response. He could barely see his hand before his face. Ghostly shapes watched him from a distance. How had he gotten here anyway? Mog was beginning to think that Mocha-ko's tendency to stumble and toss him from the saddle was becoming repetitive. Maybe it's not a good idea to have her run so much, he thought. He tried to stand up but had to stop and slowly stretch himself to his feet. He had fallen harder than he had first thought. "Come on, Mocha-ko. It's getting late. Let's find somewhere better to sleep." They hadn't walked more than a few steps before Mog noticed Mocha-ko lagging and walking with an unusual gait. "Whoa!" What was this? Mog caught hold of Mocha-ko's reins and forced her to sit down. It didn't take long to track down the problem. Even in the dim light, he could see that Mocha-ko's foot had swollen painfully. There would be no walking tonight, and he didn't like the idea of staying in their current surroundings overly long. It felt like they were in the mouth of one of those giant sand worms that burrowed beneath the Figaran Desert. He felt awkward and vulnerable and would have carried Mocha-ko out of there if he could. Instead, he stepped back from Mocha-ko and cleared himself a small stage. As Mocha-ko watched, he brought his right foot around in a sweep. He could feel the raw rhythms of the earth and heavens pull together, rhythms that he captured with each step he took. A shuffle, a kick, and a hop, followed by a twirl and another kick. The air sizzled with energy, then the night skies opened up. Sunlight flooded the chasm, illuminating all the dark crevices, creating shadows only to chase them away again. Fiery warmth seemed to ignite from the inside out, a heat that rose and fell only to grow more and more intense with each passing second. Mog's Wind Song Dance was in full swing, the golden rays of its Sun Bath touching everything around him, heating, searing, lighting. The rocks burned as though they were waxen imitations that would soon melt away; the difference between sky and earth became mute as it was all consumed in a single glory; and Mocha-ko... Mocha-ko radiated the very heart of the sun such that Mog could not stand to look at her. Then faster then it had come, it left. If Mog had been blinded by the light before, he was now blinded by the dark. It was darker than ever before, and though an exuberant warmth still lingered, it made the chill wind only that much more pronounced. Mog felt rejuvenated, the way only a good night's sleep could make him feel, though he knew a good night's rest was what he really needed now. Finding Mocha-ko still sitting in the dark, Mog checked her foot to see that most of the swelling had indeed gone down. Mocha-ko obligingly kicked back up onto her feet and walked around a few times to make Mog happy. Everything was okay now. They could walk out of this unendearing pit and find somewhere more suitable to rest - most likely somewhere far away from Jidoor where the battle would continue throughout the night. "Let's go, Mocha-ko. No more running, okay?" He lifted himself up into the saddle and they started off. But before they had gone ten steps, Mocha-ko reared, and Mog had to steady her. Something was out there. Something that spooked Mocha-ko. Mog couldn't hear anything, and it was too dark for him to discern anything but phantoms, but he could feel it. Mocha-ko could feel it also. Then they heard it. Not more than twenty paces ahead of them. Something had thudded to the ground like it had just fallen. Something was out there. What was it? Mog was no coward, yet he didn't feel any overwhelming obligation to investigate. And Mocha-ko rocked back and forth nervously. Seconds ticked away as they waited undecided, then another faint whisper of a sound. They couldn't stand around. They couldn't run away. They had to know what it was that they should be so afraid. Mog had to know. He reassured Mocha-ko and edged her closer into the darkness. Two steps, four steps, six... six steps and Mocha-ko would go no further, but it was already enough. A dull form showed itself laying low to the ground. Even as they watched, it rose and fell as though it were alive, as though it were breathing. Even as they watched, it rose with conviction, rising out of the earth, so that it was now like some undead wraith come to claim their souls... but it wasn't... Gau! "Gau! Gau!" Mog swooped off his saddle and rushed head long towards the kneeling figure. "Kupo, Gau!"