'Shit, I'm alive' but that was subject to debate.
Draco turned his head to get a look about. His neck was tangled in a bevy of sheepshanks.
The small of his back was supporting a sharp boulder, and his shins were lined with long rusty nails.
He sat up to find himself among the other hundred or so of his wounded comrades. Draco pulled himself to his feet and looked about. He recognized their old encampment. He limped over to the officers' tent. He outranked the only two who remained.
'Sir Draco'
'Yes, gentlemen. So what has happened, other than the obvious?'
'Their numbers were too vast.' replied one
'How long has it been?'
'Two days Sir'
'SO why did they not wipe us out?'
'I do not know. We suppose it was because they chose rather to take our capital.'
'Very well. That will prove to be their critical error. Tonight we take back is ours.'
'Indeed Sir'
'Shall we see to your wounds?'
'No'
'Stir yourselves men! Gather to me!' Heads turned and a few soldiers slowly made their way to him. 'Company assemble!' before the words completely exited his mouth, the troops surrounded him.
'We know what has happened and that is inexcusable!' began Draco. 'Ralse has made a crucial error in leaving us alive. Tonight we take back what is ours!'
The crowd roared in approval.
'We march out at dusk. Dine well today, for tomorrow we eat in hell'
Draco returned to where he awoke, and found his broken sword and regarded it.
'Seems appropriate enough.'
Time drew on.
'Father forgive me' lamented Draco. 'I will not fail'
Fear kept its icy grip upon his heart. This was by no means anything new. Only this time it would take much, much more for release to come. Draco's Western forces were like serpents trying to steal a den from sleeping lions. What chance had they to speak of? The frigid air circled within Draco's lungs, leaving them as though they'd been soaked in icy water. He saw his breath billow from his nostrils like smokestacks on a steamboat
their steps were uninspired, yet steady. His hands were lax upon the hilt.
Soon they came to a bridge.
Once they eclipsed it, Draco and his troops would occupy either their warm comfortable beds, or their chill graves. As soon as they stepped back upon the sod, the ground beneath their trod began to harden. Likewise the air they took in grew stale. Not a word was uttered. Neither exoneration, nor abatement, neither jest nor praise was spoken among them. As soon as it was crossed, the troops dispersed like a virus entering the host body.
Each one knew his task. His men would sneak about the walls, eliminating the sentries. Draco himself came to the front threshold.
'Traveler, what business have you here?' inquired a guard. The other two simply watched, not bothering to sheathe their weapons.
'None' replied Draco.
'So what brings you here?'
'Retribution'
A quizzical look came upon the guards. Draco removed it by streaking his broken sword across the watchman's throat. He took the still breathing corpse and shoved it onto a guard. As swiftly as an arrow, he drove his blade into another guard. The remaining soldier cast off his dead colleague, and lunged at Draco. Draco sidestepped like a dancer and plunged what remained of his sword into the base of his skull.
Around the walls, The Western troops struck. Silently, and as lethal as spiders. It wasn't long until they invaded their own home. Draco and his forces were like chemicals sent into the body to purge it from a cancer.
'Is everything alright?' asked Ralse.
'Does it matter?' stated Maria with a frank, unwelcoming tone.
'Absolutely'
'I am fine. I am quite fine'
'Is that so? Are you sure you are well?'
'As well as can be expected'
Before he could reply, the music picked up. Maria dwelt upon it and found it to be an adequate diversion from Ralse. She allowed herself to be enveloped by the bouncing triplets, and moving melodies. She regarded the other couples. Nothing she should really care about. Maria stole a glance out at the night. Somewhere in the vast cloak, be it above the stars or in the depths of the inferno, Draco waited.
He considered offering them a chance at surrender, but that sentiment was soon forgotten as the clamour of vengeful voices erupted behind him.
Draco whipped the chocobo and fired off into the enemy. He stood tall in the saddle, broken sword cocked back. Like two opposing football teams, the factions collided.
Draco felt a warm jet of sanguine moisten his arm. He trudged through the thicket of Eastern troops like a ranger hacking through massive foliage. He kept pressing.
All about him the chaos of war resounded as potently as it ever had. No retreat would sound. The only avenues open to cease fighting were either victory or death
Maria turned her attention away, and gazed back out at the night.
She lost track of the number of times Ralse had stepped on her toes. His palms were sweating, and his breath was foul.
Maria returned her focus to the music. If only a string would break, or player would faint, or Ralse would have heart failure, anything to make this waltz end.
'The survivors of the West attack!' shouted another bleeding Eastern troop
Ralse released Maria and drew his sword.
'Impossible!'
A handful of Western troops rampaged into the hall. Ralse's men countered. He scrambled about the room seeking to intercede, but uncertain as to where. His muscles tensed, his heart accelerated, and sweat poured from his skin.
Ralse was unsure of what to do, until out of his peripheral vision, he saw a spear missile towards him. He evaded just in time and turned only to find a chocobo freight training directly at him. An armored boulder of yellow lowered its head and crashed into him, sending Ralse through the air.
'Maria!' He called with a voice as firm as thunder.
'Draco! I've waited so long, I knew you'd come!'
At the pinnacle of Draco's flight, he tucked his head, hit the ground and rolled forward. Ralse cleaved nothing but air. Draco sprang back to his feet pivoted like propeller, and slashed the small of Ralse's back just as he touched the ground.
He lashed at Draco with a swift horizontal stroke. Ralse unleashed a flurry of jabs, thrusts and sweeps at his adversary. Ralse nicked Draco's arm, but was unable to land the definitive strike. In spite of his injuries, fatigue, and unsuitable equipment, Draco weathered and fired a barrage of his own.
Their blades stung upon each other, the force jostling their bones. Draco's sword clawed upon Ralse's side. Ralse tore a sliver out of Draco's side. Ralse was unable to penetrate with his next strike. Draco blasted his knee into his adversary�s stomach, causing his to haunch over. Draco followed with an overhead swing like a guillotine. Ralse dropped to his knees and raised his weapon. Draco strained downward with applying pressure like gravity. Ralse pushed up with the force of a rocket. He rose to one knee and lifted his arms. Soon Ralse stood erect, and with a forceful kick, clave the two of them apart. Both fell
Ralse�s blade was as keen as a surgeon's scalpel. Conversely, Draco's was as rough as gravel.
They arose and faced one another again. Ralse spat out a tooth, Draco swallowed his blood.
They charged again. Draco's feet were as light as paper. His sword was as hungry as a lion. Tonight he would either bed with Maria or alone upon a pyre. Ralse swung high, seeking to send Draco's head into the upper deck. Draco stopped and turned like a turret, and forced his sword forward. Ralse possessed enough presence of mind to strafe, limiting the damage to his trapeziums. Draco slashed the small of his back again. Ralse stumbled forward
He turned and raised his sword as Draco launched his thrust. Ralse countered another, and fired a left cross into Draco's jaw. He followed up with a fierce mid-level stroke which Draco defended. Ralse darted back avoiding his aggressor�s sword, and falling beyond his range.
Draco attempted to bridge the span, but the sweep of his oppressor's sword impeded his progress. Draco's second attempt was fruitless. His third attempt was a diversion. Draco feigned right, leapt over Ralse's swing and lunged forward. Ralse dodged, but his side was still caught.
Draco fired again with the swiftness of an eagle. Sparks leapt as their weapons collided. Before the resonance of the blow could shock through, Ralse slammed the heel of his hand into Draco's elbow. His broken sword rung like a fractured bell as it clanged onto the ground. Before a cry of pain could jump into Draco's throat, Ralse's sword found his stomach.
'You are victorious Draco! Rest now for the day has been won. You were magnificent'
Her voice remained as steady, unfaltering, and as solid as an oak.
'Thank you Maria'
She softly sang the lullaby. Maria could feel Draco's heart decrescendo as the curtain descended upon the stage.
Translator: Ted Woosely
Story Editor: Julie J. Ogles
Photos courtesy of Lillith Morrigan
Imprisario: Aaron V.F. PICAR!!!!!!!!!
Square Soft, although in days past we have been on better terms. Mr. Uematsu who is a modern day Bach. Yoshitaka Amano who's art always is worth beholding. Ted Woosley who did such a subperb job with the translation. Also Hironobu Sakaguchi, Hiroyuki Itou, Ken Narita, Kiyoshi Yoshii, Yoshinori Kitase, Tetseyuka Yujimata, Hirotaka Sakai, Minoru Akao, Hideo Minoba, Tutsuka Fujiki, Akihiro Sasmuchi please take a bow.
Orchestra Synfonica Di Milano, director Roberto Politi, soprano Svelta Krasteva, arrangers Shiro Sagisu, Tsune Yoshisato, engineer Paolo Germani
Epic Records: Kensuke Matsushita, Kenich Funayama, Musaki Nomura, Yoko Sugimoto, Yoshimoto Ogata, Yoshimoto Sakuma
And also; Mitch Ogles, Dale Swedberg, Kraig Stiles, Deb Tracy, Kristy Wallis, Frances VanDeventer Slatery, Megan Watson, Eddie Kaufoltz, Drew Hill, Nic Arras, Karl Gardener, Garrett Jones, Erin Housam, Jenni Siefert, Lindsey Cooper, Barbara Howard, Jesus Lopez, Lil' Bill Finnel, Kasey Keller, Alyssanne Vella, J. Blair Rollins, Carolyn Chenowith, Abigail Fletcher, Chris Duke, Jacki Ehr, All the other 1st Session Summer Staffers and the Cabin Helm.
