Chrono Trigger: Dangerous Times

 

 

Written by Ed Duarte –[email protected]

 

Author’s note: This is a piece of fan fiction that I started to write when I was in 8th grade, around 14 years of age. After a few paragraphs, I stopped the story, running into the ever-present writer’s block (plus I didn’t think I did a very good job). After a few years, I remembered about it and I decided that I would complete this story. This is just a short story telling the lives of Crono and Co. about 4 years after the destruction of Lavos. Actually, it’ll be more than that, I make up more as I go along. It isn’t very much, but I decided to continue writing it anyway. I hope ya like it! Oh yeah, I sorta borrowed that part about the statues of the characters from two stories by Samus ( who wrote “And They Must Guide You”). I hope she doesn’t mind...!

 

 

 

Dedication

 

To Magus, Prince Janus of Zeal.

   I wish you were real! Maybe you are...

 

To Marle, Princess Nadia, the love of my life.

(Sorry, I really never did get over that crush on you).

 

 

 

 

               

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                It has been 4 years since the fourteen year old boy named Crono and his friends have met and destroyed the infamous immortal, Lavos. His mother and cat(s) were rescued after running through the last time portal. The kingdom of Guardia has prospered and flourished, and Crono’s home village of Truce has expanded its borders wide, past Guardia forest and the remnants of Yakra’s cathedral. The ferry between Truce and Medina village was long since completed. Things are seeming to finally get back to normal. But time flows like a river... and peace is only a foreboder of what is to come...

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

                All that Crono could see was black. It was inky and as thick as night. Nothing could pierce it... except a familiar voice that sounded far away.

                “Crono,” the voice spoke softly.  Crono ignored it and sleepily moved inside his covers. His mother did that when he was little to wake him up.

                “Crono!” the voice was louder this time. Crono mumbled something and turned his head away. His mother didn’t always yell that loud...

                “Good morning, Crono!” That did it. Crono opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. The darkness was penetrated, and daylight flooded into his eyes when someone opened the curtains. He turned his head to see a familiar person.

                “Marle!” Crono said in suprise. Marle stood there, wearing a bathrobe. Her usually tied back hair now cascaded down her shoulders. Around her neck was the object she cherished, the one that started Crono’s adventure 4 years ago: her pendant.

                Crono sighed. Marle was a beautiful sight, with her light orange hair, her almost elven features, and her bright green eyes, the color of emeralds. They had gone on that great adventure in the past. In fact, Marle was the first member that he had literally bumped into. He didn’t know it at first, but she was really princess Nadia of Guardia. The name Marle was one that she made up and adopted. She was always by his side, being the tagalong healer (after she learned her magic skills) along with other party members. Crono remembered them vividly.

               

                There was Lucca, Crono’s childhood friend. She was an expert with machines and tinkercraft, able to build and repair anything. Lucca mastered the fire magic as her skill, a very powerful magic at that. She was always at his side at times of trouble, and also rescued him from execution at his trial of supposedly kidnapping princess Nadia. Lucca’s family had moved away in the years following the defeat of Lavos, and Crono periodically hears from her.

                There was Robo, serial no. R66-Y of the R series robots, otherwise known as Prometheus. Crono, Marle and Lucca had found him in the year 2300 A.D., after the world was destroyed by Lavos. He was found in the abandoned Proto Dome, where a time gate existed. When he had discovered his true purpose, or his lost programming, the other R-series had trashed him and left him broken. But luckily, Lucca was able to repair him again. Since then, Robo had helped the party all that he could, returning to the factory that he was made and destroying the Mother Brain AI (Artificial Intelligence) computer, who had plans to wipe out the humans and create an empire of robots. After Lavos was destroyed, he went into the last time portal with Doan, descendant of King Guardia.

                There was Frog, the gallant amphibian knight, cursed with his form by the enlightened one Magus. He and his friend Cyrus had retrieved the ancient Masamune sword and were going to fight the wizard Magus and his army. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. The Masamune sword was split in two, and Cyrus was killed by Magus, who had also turned the young knight Glenn into a frog.

                There was Ayla, the chief of her tribe in the distant prehistoric times. Her strength

had proved a valuable asset, as well as her looks (y’know, when she charms...). After Lavos was destroyed, Ayla had gone back into her time with Kino. The two were now married and were both helping both her own and the remaining Laruba tribe deal with the hardships of the coming Ice Age.

                And then there was Magus. Prince Janus of Zeal, to be exact. Magus was a name picked up in the middle ages, a time when magic users were looked upon with disdain. He was the second child of Queen Zeal, along with his sister Schala. He was separated from his sister after Queen Zeal revived Lavos, along with the Gurus of time, reason, and life. He appeared in the middle ages (600 A.D.) and was brought up by the Mystics, a race of otherworldly creatures of magic (possible descendants of the enlightened ones?). He had joined the team after Crono and co. got the Epoch from Dalton, who had given it wings. Frog had been reluctant to this, but after some thought, accepted the inevitable. “Vanquishing thee will not bring back Cyrus.” he had said. After Lavos was destroyed, Magus left to the time after Zeal was destroyed (12,000,000 B.C.), to see if he could find the one he has been searching for almost his entire life--his sister Schala.

 

                “Crono?” Crono heard Marle speak his name before receiving a playful slap on the face, reviving him from his silent musings. He winced and rubbed his cheek, and Marle gave him a kiss to tell him all was well. “I’ll be downstairs cooking breakfast, honey. Come on down after you finally wake up!” she laughed, skipping down the steps from his house. The house was newly built around the area where Truce Inn was, slightly identical to his old house where his mother now lived. Crono chuckled. He remembered how he introduced every single one of his companions to his mother without the least bit of suprise from her. From the scantily clad Ayla to the dark and brooding Magus, she has welcomed all of them with no suprise whatsoever (well, maybe a little...). Crono got up, stretched, and began to walk down the stairs to the kitchen, the aroma of bacon bringing him down. Four years, he mused. Four years that he had been married to Marle. And he never regretted a moment. She had officially confessed her love to him after he had, um, rescued her from a, er, vicious bunch of balloons she had grabbed hold of at the end of the millennial fair. Even before that, it had been insinuated. The time when he and Lucca and Frog had rescued the real Queen Leene in medieval Guardia, the time when she had run away with him from Guardia after he had escaped from jail, the time when Marle, Magus and Lucca had “brought him back to life” on Death Peak...

                Crono arrived in the kitchen, stopping for a minute to pet his numerous cats (something about that cat food he won in the “Tent of Horrors” had made them multiply. Hmmm...). He had put on his old clothes he used to wear when he and his companions were adventuring (he now had several pairs), and his normally spiky hair was now ruffled (but still spiky!). Marle was cooking bacon and eggs at the small stove in one corner. Crono, grinning ear to ear, slowly and quietly crept up behind her and poked her in her sides, where he knew she was extremely ticklish. Marle gave a little yelp, then turned around and laughed, giving him a kiss. Crono wrapped his arms around Marle’s petite waist, and returned her kiss. Marle followed along with this show of affection, until Crono’s hands began to venture lower...

                “Oh stop that!” she chastised him playfully. Crono meekly obeyed, pouting. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later...” she said, with a coy smile. Crono gave her grinned at that, then sat down at the table in the center of the kitchen. After a while, he assumed a position of boredom, his chin in his hands. Oh, life was great. He had a house, a wife that was witty and beautiful, he and Lucca still maintained contact... but something was missing.

                “Marle?” Crono spoke. Marle turned her head and acknowledged him. “Do you ever wish that things could be different?”

                Marle gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean by that?”

                Crono shrugged. “I dunno, it’s nice around here, but I just feel, well, so bored!” He sighed, wincing and rubbing his shoulder where muscles were still tense from yesterday’s swordfighting lesson. Marle came up behind him, massaging his tight shoulders, ruffling his hair.

                “Oh, c’mon!” she said. “We gotta settle down sometime, Crono! Do you have any idea what we have been through?”

                Crono nodded, but he still wasn’t convinced. “That was a long time ago... now it’s so damn peaceful, there’s nothing to do!” he stirred his coffee lazily with a spoon. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a war-monger or anything, I just feel as though, well--ah! There! Right there! It’s been sore all day yesterday.” apparently Marle had found the spot of tension in Crono’s shoulder. She kept on massaging his shoulders, sighing and watching him with those beautiful green eyes of hers.

                “Now we don’t have to live in constant fear of the world being destroyed by Lavos. People can live in peace. The human race survived, Crono. Doesn’t that make you feel any better?”

                Crono shook his head. “I guess I just miss everybody, y’know. I haven’t heard from anybody other than Lucca in years. There hasn’t been any decent action here in years!”

                Marle rolled her eyes and ran her delicate fingers through Crono’s hair. “I’m sure the others are doing just fine, Crono. I worry about them too. Especially Frog. I feel that he thinks he’ll never be accepted into society the way he looks. I just hope he doesn’t get suicidal or anything.”

                Crono laughed for a second. “Glenn? No way! Still, I’d feel the same if I was a frog. I almost hate Magus for doing that for him.” Marle nodded.

                “I do too! You’d think he’d have just a little sympathy and right his wrong, but no, Janus is as cold as ice.” she finished massaging Crono’s shoulder and sat down on a chair next to him, brushing her orange-gold hair out of her face. “But in some ways, you can’t blame him. I feel sorry for him too. He’s been searching for his sister all of his life, and when he finally found her, he loses her again. He’s let his hatred towards Lavos consume his life. Personally, I’m sorta more worried that he’d go suicidal.” Marle shivered, then got up off her chair. “I’m gonna go wash up. I feel like going for a long walk today. Care to join me?” she asked sweetly, doing her best cute-as-a-button face. Crono just couldn’t resist when she batted those lashes at him like that. Besides, there wasn’t much to do around here anyway.

                “Sure thing, Marle. I’m all set. Just come down here when you’re ready.”

                Marle turned around and skipped down the hallway “And no peeking!” she said, giving him a wink.

                “Gods, I love that woman!”

 

                About an hour later, Crono and Marle were taking the long walk to Porre, enjoying the clear skies and fresh air. Crono chuckled, remembering what his mother said when the Black Omen was floating in the sky. What a character! I outta go visit her again, he thought. He walked along, arm around his wife, sword in its scabbard at his belt. Just a reminder of old times, he thought, though he would like it if he got a chance to swing it around some more. Marle, being the sprite-like creature she was when she was happy, broke free from Crono’s arm and pranced along, stopping to pick up some flowers and stick them in Crono’s hair. He groaned.

                “Marle, do you have to keep doing that? You know how much gel it takes to get this hair straight?” Marle laughed, then slowed down so that Crono could keep up. Porre was about a few hours walk, probably longer since the desert that used to be around there was now forest. The small town had grown during the past few years. The piano man still played there, the cook still tried to sell his jerky for outrageous prices. Some things didn’t change. Crono’s friend Lucca lived around there now, with her own custom built house and laboratory. He thought that it would be a good idea to suprise her, since Marle hadn’t seen her in a year or so. Crono proposed this idea to Marle while they were crossing the bridge that led to Porre, travelers and other people crossing on their way to Truce or Guardia.

                “I wonder how she’s doing. I remember her saying that she was going to dismantle the Epoch after we got your mom back. From 65,000,000 B.C., of all places!” Marle giggled. Crono laughed, remembering his mother trying to teach etiquette to a bunch of cavemen. The result had been less than pleasant, though no casualties were committed.

                “Yeah, she’s probably using it for scrap parts. Making some ‘droids, she is. Guess she still misses Robo.” said Crono. Marle made a sound of agreement.

                “Guess you’re not alone in how you feel.” she said, nudging him with her elbow. The two stopped to rest at the end of the bridge and sat on a large rock. Marle stretched her arms and lay back. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, as it used to be, and she wore her old adventuring clothes. After a few minutes of silence, she decided to talk again.

                “I wonder what everybody’s doing right now.” she said, looking at the sky, the noontime sun blazing above in the vast beyond. Crono looked at her and then followed her gaze upward.

                “I dunno, probably wondering what everybody else is doing.” he said, taking a breath of fresh air. He absently stroked Marle’s hair. “Hope they’re all okay.”

                “Me too.”

                After a few minutes of resting, the two got up and kept on walking. Lucca’s house was still along way off, as well as Porre, so they had plenty of time to talk. All the time in the world.

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

                Glenn sat on a tree stump near his underground home in the “haunted” forest. In fact, he didn’t know why they called this forest haunted. Oh sure, there was the occasional monster or two (or three or four) but there were no ghosts or spirits of any kind. People just have a strange way of naming things, thought Glenn.

                Lucca hadn’t been strange when she had dubbed him “Frog.” After all, it was fitting to his form. Plus what did anyone expect from a walking, talking frog, Glenn silently mused. He sighed, making a ribbit sound. He chose to live in this forest because not many people ventured here. Less people to be scared of him or to laugh at him. His house wasn’t much. Basically just one large room, with a bed and a table as well as a few more accommodations. Spartan it was, like a knight should live. Only, what knight could hope to be remembered worthily by his form? The only thing that kept certain people from dismissing him entirely was the fact that he had been the friend of the legendary knight, Cyrus. Cyrus, his best friend. Killed by some loathsome wizard. Glenn seethed, pulling out the Masamune sword from his belt, removing it’s scabbard. So close, he had been so close to killing that damned elf-like magic-user. Glenn refused to call Magus by his true name, did not credit his sob story as legitimate for killing Cyrus or countless other knights on the field of battle. He had been so close... but what would more bloodshed accomplish? Absolutely nothing. Still, it felt good driving that sword into Magus at that battle at Magus’s castle when he and Crono fought him...

                “No.” Glenn thought. Enjoyment of violence was not tolerated by the knight’s code. “Vanquishing thee will not bring back Cyrus.” he said, echoing his own words that time when he had confronted the wizard on the cliff on the Earthbound continent in the aftermath of the destruction of Zeal. Let him endlessly search for his sister. That was punishment enough.

                Glenn pulled out the hero medal from under his breastplate, watching the way the light from the half moon shone upon it. A fine thing it was now, he thought. Just a reminder of how his best friend was killed. The improved Masamune had been given to Glenn when he visited Cyrus’s grave in the present time. He remembered how Magus had stood there looking upon the scene between Glenn and Cyrus with utter disdain. The wizard was quite eager to exit the Hero’s Grave, for reasons unknown to Glenn except that maybe he felt guilty or something.

                “Magus, feeling remorse?” thought Glenn. He laughed, making a croaking sound. “No, the foul urchin doth not feel an ounce of pity.” He looked at the stars in the night sky, contemplating the future. Guardia was at peace again. Ozzie was dead, as well as Flea and Slash, the Mystics reduced to a few scattered bands on the other continents. When Queen Leene offered him board at Guardia as a full-fledged knight, he had declined. Glenn would not sit there and let other knights look upon him with pity or disgust. Better that he go live in obscurity, he was not needed anymore. Glenn sighed. So this is where it all ends up, his family line ending here. He would sire no sons, and no one would take up his glorious name to become a knight.

                Glenn coughed and decided that it would be a good idea to go inside since the cold, damp air of the night was starting to affect him. He jumped off the tree stump and wandered back to the bushes that concealed the ladder that lead to his house. As he placed a foot on the rung of the ladder, Glenn heard a rustling sound ahead. His instincts kicked into action, his sword was unsheathed. He silently waited.

                Ahead of Glenn in the darkness of the forest, a short, squat creature could be seen walking in an almost ridiculous way. The creature seemed to be walking toward Glenn. The frog-knight stepped out from the ladder, unafraid and ready for anything.

                “Foul villain, show thyself!” he yelled, brandishing his sword in a salute. If it was a Mystic, then Glenn would defeat it. He had no love for the inhuman beings, and he was ready for a fight, magic or not.

                The creature hobbled into the moonlight, and Glenn could see it better now. It seemed to be large head with eyes, arms, legs, and a mouth. The skin was a blue color, as was the hair on its head. Only one creature in the world fit this criteria.

                A Nu? Glenn thought. Of course, he knew about them. These creatures could be seen in the most obscure places. They were avoided out of some silly taboo, but the creatures were not openly hostile. Knights have claimed to see the strange creatures when venturing through dark forests at night. Children claimed to see them everywhere, though those claims were often ignored. No one knows where they came from, what exactly they were, or how they got the name Nu. Glenn remembered going into the Kingdom of Zeal with Crono and Marle and reading this text saying “All life begins with Nu and ends with Nu...” The purpose of that phrase escaped him, though Glenn could obviously see that the creatures were obviously important somehow.

                The Nu had walked up in front of the frog-knight now, standing there with a blank expression on its face. Glenn lowered his sword and stroked his chin in concentration. Nu’s weren’t known to just walk up to people like that. Most of the time they were reported to just ignore any person completely.

                “Strange creature,” said Glenn, still a bit wary. “for what reason dost thou approach me?” The Nu stood still, its eyes starting to close sleepily. A prod from Glenn woke it up with a start, and it reached back to scratch its back lazily. As if remembering something, the Nu then reached for its hair and pulled out a folded slip of paper, handing it to Glenn. The knight warily took the paper from the Nu, who had begun to fall asleep again. He unfolded the paper and looked at the flourishing script written there in some sort of calligraphy. The paper looked old, as well as the writing on it, and Glenn wondered why a Nu would bring something like this to him. Sitting down on the wet grass, Glenn began to read.

                “Consider this an act of pity, not goodwill. The Nu are as old as time and almost eternal, and their memory sharp though they are lazy, so I was able to make this one an able courier. Heed my message: you are free. I release you, Glenn, knight of Guardia. Maybe this will change your feelings toward me, maybe not. I could care less. But there is no need for your present state anymore. Farewell.” The note was not signed, and it seemed to fall to pieces when Glenn finished reading it. The knight pondered over the cryptic message for a few minutes, then scoffed.

                “Bah! I know not the meaning of this or who wrote it. Maybe some things are better left off unknown.” and with that, Glenn sat up and proceeded to climb down the ladder to his room underground, still pondering the words of the message. No witnesses were present for this except the Nu, who Glenn thought was asleep. However, it had kept one eye half-open to observe the task it was given. When the act was finished, the Nu remained there until Glenn was gone from sight, then it turned around and hobbled off into the forest. A the moment, no one but the Nu and the one who had given it the task knew this, but a great deed was done. Glenn could now walk the Earth without self-consciousness, for he was now human. He would find out sooner or later. With that done, the Nu found some place that looked good for a nap, then abruptly fell asleep to dream.

 

CHAPTER THREE

               

                Bangor City, circa 2304 A.D.

 

                The Future is now.

                 Where he picked up the phrase, Robo did not know. But it did cause him to think for a while. His logic circuits could not quite understand this phrase and dismissed it as gibberish. But from his dealings with his human friends, Robo learned that things like that were not gibberish, but had certain meanings. Still, he could not quite understand the phrase.

                It was Earth, 2300 A.D.  ( “Anno Domini” is not what that meant). This time, though, the world was spared the destruction by Lavos. R66-Y, or “Robo,” was hailed as a hero, as well as all of the others who were involved with destroying Lavos. The seven heroes all had statues in a park in Bangor Dome, perfectly sculpted in their likenesses. Each statue had the date of the persons birth... and the date of their demise. Only on Robo and Magus’s statues were the death dates left empty. Robo was still alive, and Magus... well, nobody had ever seen him again, so nobody knew whether he was alive or dead.

                Robo let out a mechanical sigh and stopped pondering the human phrase. He was in the park right now, amidst the green grass and trees which were carefully tended for by the maintenance workers. Hydroponics could work miracles nowadays. The android looked at the statues again, which were basked in the sunlight from Earth’s finally clear skies. He knew. He knew when almost all of his friends would die. Though R66-Y was not built with an emotion chip, his dealings with the humans had taught him the hard way about emotions, and now he had a sense of them within him, and he felt a lingering sense of despair whenever he looked at the dates on the statues.

                Funny, how most robots from his “old” time of 2300 didn’t hold much respect for humans, their creators. “Machines aren’t capable of evil. Humans make them that way.” Lucca had said. And she was right. It was the robots’ programming that caused certain ones to rebel against the humans and try to create an empire of “steel and pure logic.” Humans then had originally created robots as slave-laborers and war machines. They were programmed with pure logic in their chips and were quite intelligent. But what was logic compared to imagination? Without imagination, robots were nothing but doddering geriatrics, doing nothing but building and destroying. Of course, they got tired of that and when the world was ruined by Lavos, the remaining robots revolted. Now, however, all robots (excluding Robo, for he had no need of one) were installed with the famous “Three laws of Robotics” (apologies to Isaac Asimov). 1. A robot can never intentionally harm or allow harm to come to a human. 2. A robot must have a sense of self preservation. 3. A robot must not let self preservation come above the first law. Now humanity had a friend, a helper to shoulder part of their burden. Although there were still humans who were not fond of the androids, they were treated better than they were before.

                Robo finally remembered who said that weird phrase. It was Crono. He remembered when he and Crono and Marle were exploring the factory in order to find the switch to open the door in Proto Dome. Crono, taking a long look at the mass production facility, said “The future is now” in awe. Robo disregarded his logic circuits and hypothesized that it would make sense to someone like Crono, who had arrived from the past, to say that.

                It was dark now, and Robo knew that the park would close any minute now. Getting up from the bench he was sitting on, Robo walked out Truce Park and out into the sprawling city of Bangor, covered conveniently in a large plasti-glass dome. Robo could remember when he was with Crono and Bangor Dome had been a filthy, rusting complex with only an Enertron to keep the small populace alive. Now, it was a large city with a population of thousands. Robo walked down the streets undisturbed by the masses of humans and androids. Unlike the other robots, he was an older model, and most older models were sent to the scrap heap for new bodies to house their CPU’s. Robo, however, was granted the privilege to keep his own outdated shell, with a few essential modifications, of course. After a few minutes of walking down the streets, Robo had made it to the building he was seeking.

                In the wake of the destruction of Lavos in 1999, about three hundred years later, the old man who had been looking over Bangor Dome, Doan, was elected mayor of Bangor City in the “new” 2300 A.D. It was him who ordered the statues of the seven heroes to be erected in their honor, and it was his ancestors who created the Three Laws of Robotics. Robo would visit Doan from time to time. though it was a long trip from Proto Dome (Robo’s home, now fixed up) to Bangor City, the roads were not as treacherous as they were before. The Race Track was still there, a favorite place of many people who tried their luck competing and betting on each other. Johnny “The Man!” was still functional and usually competed against young hotshot racers. However, nobody had ever gone to the other piece of land that held the dome where Belthazar, the ancient Guru of time, had created the Epoch. Nor has anyone ever gone up Death Peak. Hmm...

                Robo had made it to Doan’s office in the City Hall after a few minutes walk. Of course, he was given permission to see the aged mayor whenever it was convenient. Letting the sliding door open, Robo entered Doan’s office. The office was a simple room, with a synthetic carpet covering the floor and a mahogany desk with several chairs and couches around it. Doan was looking over some papers with interest at the moment, sitting in his desk. He did not notice the robot until Robo made an electronic noise to announce his presence.

                “Ah, Robo! So good to see you again!” Doan got up from his desk and walked over to Robo. Unlike before, mayor Doan now walked with a straight back and an air of energy about him. He grasped Robo’s metallic hand in his own and gave it a crisp shake. Robo offered the closest approximation to a smile as his metallic features could.

                “It is good to see you again, too.” he said in a synthetic voice. Due to his time around humans, Robo had also gained emotion in his voice, so it no longer sounded as bland and mechanical as before. “I indicate that you were very interested in what you were reading before, Mr. Doan. If you please, may I view the material? If it has to do with legal activities, I am programmed to help yo-”

                Doan chuckled and held up a hand. “Please, Robo, you don’t have to talk like that around me. Lighten up! But thanks for the offer, though.” Robo nodded and spoke.

                “Well then, my friend, what’s news?” the statement almost sounded funny coming from an android, but the humanness of the statement was genuine. Doan gestured toward his desk and Robo followed him there. The old man took the small stack of papers and gave them to Robo. As the robot read, Doan explained.

                “Robo, you are aware of the factories and facilities we have in a low Earth orbit, aren’t you?” Robo looked up from the paper he was reading and nodded, making an electronic noise as an adknowledgement.

                “Of course, sir.”

                Doan spoke in a quieter tone now. “Well, one of our orbital laboratories doubles as a sort of watcher for Earth. It monitors incoming messages from our mining facilities on the other planets and incoming asteroids.” the old man looked around nervously before continuing, then spoke. “In the year 1999, our Earthbound laboratories had picked up strange tectonic and other anomalies when Lavos was bursting from the Earth’s crust. Well, just recently we have received readings of spacial anomalies just beyond the outer planets of our solar system. The anomalies have the same type of readings as the day of Lavos! But Lavos was destroyed by you and the others...”

                Robo, who had absorbed every word Doan had said, responded. “Doan, we all know that Lavos was not of this Earth. Scientific analysis of the alien creature’s ‘quills’ had contained DNA like we have never seen before. No terrestrial animal, plant, or fungi have this type of DNA. The codons and anti-codons are arranged in the strangest way, the strands are not even in the traditional helix shape.” the android paused, making a whirring sound. “According to historical and archealogical evidence, we have proof that Lavos arrived on Earth around the year 65,000,000 B.C.” after this, Robo stopped to let his long explanation sink in. Doan was shocked.

                “Do you think-”

                Robo shook his head. “We cannot be sure. According to your papers, the readings are similar but still have their differences. There is always the chance that it is related to Lavos. I, sir, propose that you and the other mayors plan for an investigation to this matter.”

                Doan nodded his head. “We already have, Robo. The mayors of Truce and Trann have agreed to fund this project.” then, giving a slight grin, he continued. “Oh, and I have personally vouched for you to have a place on this mission, Robo.”

                Robo was silent for a moment. Then, in a voice that, though synthetic, could only be recognized as excited, he spoke. “Sir, I would be honored to lend my services to the mission! Since I have had dealings with Lavos in the past, I am sure that I can be of some help! When do we depart?” the android looked so giddy despite of his programming that Doan couldn’t help but to chuckle.

                “You will depart from the Trann city launchpad tomorrow in the afternoon.” and after that, in a sincere tone, he added, “I wish you luck and hope for the best, my friend.”

                Robo gave a crisp, military salute that was flawless (it was engrammed in his programming). “I will not fail you, Doan.” and with that, he proceeded to leave the office and the building. Doan watched him leave and sighed. He had a bad feeling about the mission, but he would not say anything to discourage his friend.

                Robo walked fast down the streets of Bangor City. They were bustling with people, as always. As he walked, he thought about the mission. He was glad to go. It would let him think about other things instead of those death dates on the statues. He would find out if this was indeed a threat to Earth. And most importantly, it might give him an insight to how his friends were doing.

                Passing by the park, Robo stopped abruptly. He sensed movement within his peripheral vision. Somewhere in the bushes of the park... Robo dismissed it after a short moment. It was probably one of the robotic maintenance workers watering the plants. With that, Robo proceeded to exit Bangor City and take the nearest monorail to Trann City.

                There was a rustle in the bushed after Robo left. After a minute, a large blue head poked out of its hiding place. The creature then emerged entirely. It was a Nu, blank faced and as reclusive as always. Nobody had seen a Nu in over four hundred years, according to historical documents. In fact, as far as 1000 A.D. the creatures have no longer been reported. Only in the magical pyramid north of the Mystics’ Village was a Nu seen by Crono and his friends when they went to unlock the pyramid’s seal using Marle’s pendant.

                 This Nu made absolutely sure that no one would see him. The mysterious creature waited a few hours until the activity in the streets died down, then hobbled back into the bush. It, as well, had a mission.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

                Outskirts of Porre, circa 1004 A.D.

               

                Near where the haunted forest used to be in 600 A.D., there was a large, sturdy house. The house did not resemble other houses around Porre. Its walls were constructed of brick, and the roof was made of hardwood covered with what looked like dark glass shingles. A passerby would not notice anything strange about it, of course. What a passerby wouldn’t know is that the foundation of the house was made of rubber, so that in the event of an earthquake it would lessen the damage. There was an internal heating/cooling system, primitive by future standards but still efficient. The “shingles” were actually solar collectors (very hard to make and find materials for). The house was cleaned and tended by robots. Though the ‘droids were also primitive (lacking the ability to talk and hold a conversation), they were able cleaners and servants. The house had one more secret: an underground laboratory. Wheras the floor of the house was either wood or stone, the floor of the laboratory was linoleum. However, the owner of this wasn’t a chemist or biologist. Rather, she was more of, um, a mechanic/inventor/scientist.

                Lucca sat hunched down in front of a gadget that looked like some sort of projector. She was wearing a smeared, white t-shirt with a design on it that was too faded to make out. She wore pants made from denim, ripped and tattered in several places. Lucca wore large, wide glasses that had a tendency to slide down the bridge of her nose often. Her hair was now shoulder length, having grown in the past few years, still the color of shimmering lavender. A few stubborn strands fell into her face as she was working. Making an exasperated sound, Lucca pushed them out of her face, reaching for piece of string to tie it back into a ponytail. With that done, Lucca gave her attention back to her work.

                The object would have resembled an old-fashioned movie projector. The exterior was a dull gray metal covered with a few switches. The inside, however, was more complex. Unbeknownst to her friends, Lucca had taken one last ride before dismantling the Epoch. She had visited the future in the year 2000 A.D., one year Lavos had emerged and been defeated. Visiting places such as junkyards and pawn shops in several urban areas, she had managed to scrounge up some material she wouldn’t have been able to find anywhere in 1000 A.D.; plastics, circuitboards, an outdated but functional computer, microchips, several blueprints, some new clothes (she wanted futuristic ones!), flourescent lights, lots of scrap metal she could use to her advantage, and several firearms. There was much more but most of it was stashed in her laboratory. Lucca had used the blueprints to create solar panels to power her electric utilities, a windmill generator, and a large battery to store the power when it was cloudy or not windy. Using some cables and wires and plastics, she had placed electrical outlets at strategic places around her house. Her computer was on a desk in one corner of the laboratory. Flourescent lights and incandescent lights lined her ceilings. Other technological wonders were scattered all over Lucca’s house.

                Her father, Taban, had been a great help. Without him, Lucca doubted she could have routed all of the electrical wires or have built this house. Taban was a born “mechie”, as Lucca called herself, as well as a great carpenter. Lucca owed much of her work to him. She made periodic visits to her father and mother, who could now walk thanks to Lucca’s traveling into a time portal in a forest when she was camping with her friends.

                The interior of the projector-like object was a maze of circuitry and wires that had taken Lucca months to perfect. Even now, she wasn’t so sure that it was perfectly made. But she had to move by trial and error, since people with the expertise were rare, if around at all.

                “There. That oughtta keep it secure.” Lucca said triumphantly. Her device was now complete. Now came the testing. If all was sucessful, she would be able to create a time gate large enough to accomodate one person, but only for a short while. Though not as good as the Epoch, the machine would allow her to gather more materials and maybe blueprints on how to create those materials for herself. Then, of course she would visit Robo...

                “C’mon, don’t let me down!” Lucca had just flipped the main switch, and awaited results nervously. The machine made a strange noise, the glass lens of it shimmering with blue light. A think ray of this blue light slowly made its way in front of Lucca. She grinned and shivered like an exited little girl, awaiting the result. But something went wrong.

                The blue light stopped abruptly, though the noise the machine made was still going on. A crackle could be heard, and sparks were coming out of the rear of the projector.

                “No!” yelled Lucca, but to no avail. Smoke started to rise out of the machine, and it cracked open, exposing its fried internal circuitry. The area was filled with black, oily smoke and the disgusting smell of burning plastic. Lucca coughed, waving away the smoke but not enough to keep it from discoloring her shirt and getting a kind of soot on her face. She turned on an air extractor and stood there, shocked. After a few minutes, she began to react.

                “Damn!” she kicked the slagged machine. “Piece of junk! I had it perfect! How could anything go wrong?! Arrgh!!!!!!!” she vented her anger out of the lifeless projector. Lucca gave it another good solid kick, then fell back, clutching her hurting toe. “Aaagh! Ow! My toe! Lucca, you are such a moron!” she chided herself, resolving to double check her experiments next time. Well, it’s back to square one now...

                Sighing, Lucca pressed a button nest to the air extractor button on the wall. A panel in the wall opened up, and out came a small robot on wheels. Looking more like a small wastebucket with mulltiple arms on wheels, the machine was more than suited for this kind of work. The robot began sweeping the bits of scrap metal into itself, carefully cleaning the spot on the floor with chemicals before leaving. With an electronic whistle, the robot wheeled its way back into the wall where it came from.

                Lucca turned off the air extractor and began walking up the stairs that led to the kitchen of her house. She turned off the lights in the laboratory before closing the maglock door behind her. The door would only open if she entered a three digit code into a numeric keypad next to the door. Lucca untied her ponytail and let her lavender hair fall onto her shoulders. Physically and mentally exhausted, she walked out of the kitchen and plopped down on a large easy chair. For the time being, she busied herself by thinking of how she could fix the problem and begin again on her creation. She had a lot of supplies, but like everything else, they were limited. But Lucca was not the kind of person to give up. She did not give up when she found out Lavos was going to destroy the world. No way.

                The chime on her doorbell abruptly erased her thoughts. Lucca got up off the chair and walked toward the living room, a large, spacious area with a fireplace and several sofas lined against the wall. The door to the outside was on the wall in that room. Without even bothering to look in the peephole to see who it was, Lucca started to open the door. It was late afternon, almost evening now. She did not want to be disturbed. If it was another tax collector, Luca would give him hell before he decided to come here again around this time. With that, she gave the doorknob a turn and opened the door. Crono and Marle were standing there.

                Lucca’s shock and suprise gave away to sheer joy. “Crono! Marle! Hey you guys!” Her two visitors were no less happy.

                “Lucca! Good to see ya again!” Crono gave her a strong hug, then released his crushing grip to let Marle greet her. “We’ve missed you!”

                Marle gave Lucca a soft hug and they exchanged greetings. “Lucca! Oh God, it’s been forever! You’ve changed!”

                Lucca chuckled. “Well, not really. I mean, just the way I look...” suddenly it dawned on her. There she was greeting her decently dressed friends wearing ripped denim pants and a dirty shirt, and covered in soot and grease and God-knows-what. “Oh my God! Um, just come inside and make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be right back!” and with that, Lucca ran down a hallway. After a few minutes, The sound of running water could be heard. Marle and Crono waited patiently in the living room, occassionally cracking a joke or two. Crono got brave enough to jokingly remark about how Lucca had grown in, ah, other ways. For that, he recieved a solid kick in the arse from his wife and a slap on the face, later for which she apologized. Lucca arrived about 10 minutes later, now clean and wearing a black t-shirt with loose denim shorts. She jumped on an easy chair, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose before speaking.

                “Wow! So, you, guys just decided to stop by?”

                Crono answered her. “Well, it was sort of a walk but we decided that we’d just visit you anyway.” Marle nodded enthusiastically.

                “Yeah! It’s been ages, Lucca! What have you been up to?” she inquired.

                Lucca stretched back, considering what to tell her friends. She thought they’d freak out if she told them what she was really doing... “Well, nothing much.” she casually lied. “I created these robots to do all my house chores! Now I can lie back and relax and be fanned!” as if on cue, a tiny, wheeled robot rolled up from the hall with a huge fan and proceeded with its programming. Lucca propped up her feet on the robot as it fanned its mistress. Crono and Marle just stared for a minute.

                “Wow Lucca...” Marle said after a while. “You live almost better than the people at Guardia Castle.”

                Lucca snickered. “Ain’t it the truth!” Marle was used to her behavior by now.

                Crono grinned. “Well, now that we’re here, how about a night at Porre?” Lucca thought it over, then Crono continued. “Of course, if you aren’t busy...”

                Lucca paused. “No! I mean, no I’m not really busy. Well, you’re idea sounds great! I haven’t been to town in a while. How about in a hour or so?” she said, frustratingly pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose again. Marle was enthusiastic about the offer.

                “Sure! We walked all the way over here, anyway. We should at least have some fun!”

                Lucca grinned mischeviously. “OK!”

 

                Later in the evening, the three were in the town of Porre. Lucca had set up her security system for her house before she left. Crono had accused her of being paranoid, but Lucca was undaunted. She would not let any of her secrets fall prey to anyone. The three were in the famous bar of Porre. In four years, the place was made larger and had more accomodations. But some things were the same. The blasted cook kept trying to sell his jerky for outrageous prices, and the piano man still was the musical provider. In the bar, Crono busied himself on a stool with spirits, while Marle busied herself at the piano man’s side, constantly requesting certain songs while she held a mug of house brew in one hand. Lucca sat on a stool next to Crono, an almost untouched mug of cider in front of her. She was thinking. What was wrong with my Portal Spawner? I swear, I got all the shematics and circuitry correct. I’ll have to check it out later...

                “Hey, Lucca! You haven’t touched your drink.” noted Crono, interrupting her thoughts. He was shouting over the din of other customers drinking, laughing and telling forgotten stories to each other. When Lucca didn’t respond, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sick or something?  Maybe we’d better take you back...”

                Lucca, finally shaken out of her musings, looked at him. “Hm? Oh! No, I’m fine. Really. But thanks for being considerate!” she added. She then decided to talk a bit. Maybe that would keep her mind off of the things that could wait till later. Plus she had wanted to know the answer to this for a long time.

                “Uh, Crono,” she began slowly. “have you, uh, er, had any plans for, um, any children lately?” she inquired meekly. That didn’t change the outcome, however. Crono abruptly choked and spit out a fine mist of whiskey. Lucca flinched. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

                Crono had recovered after a minute. “Uh, ha ha, well, Lucca, we haven’t really thought about that seriously yet.” Lucca blinked.

                “But you and Marle have been married for four years now!”

                Crono nodded solemnly. “Yeah, but to tell you the truth, um... neither of us are really prepared for that just yet... I’m not saying that we won’t, it’s just that neither of us feel that this is the time, at least not yet.”

                Lucca gave Crono a wan smile. “Yeah, I guess I can relate. I wouldn’t want all that responsibility yet. I’m only nineteen!” she stopped to adjust her glasses. “Well, I won’t ask again. Sorry to have bothered you.”

                Crono gave her a back slap. “No! No problem at all! We’re friends, Lucca. I won’t hold that against you. Now c’mon, let us toast to better times!” he said, raising his mug. Lucca chuckled. He was already bleary eyed. She and Marle would probably have to carry him all the way to her house. Smiling, she clanked her mug against his and took a draught of cider. Realizing that she was parched, she downed the rest of the drink quickly. Slapping down her mug, Lucca gave let out a burp that would put most men to shame. Crono snickered, as did several other patrons there. After it quieted down, Lucca could hear Marle still talking to the piano man.

                “Oh please could you play that one?” she asked sweetly. The piano man, however, was unmoved.

                “But I played that one twenty five times already!”

                Marle, however, wasn’t going to be stopped so easily. “Oh please! I love that song! Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?” she inquired in her cutest voice. The piano man got up, his squat mystic body being a great deal shorter than hers.

                “Hmmph! My fingers are tired!” he said impatiently. “Plus, we have a bard that’ll be coming her any minute! So if you’ll please...” he said to Marle, who was blocking his way. She jumped up exitedly and ran to where Crono was sitting, almost knocking him out of his seat as he enquired in a slurred voice what she was so excited about.

                “There’s a bard coming here any minute! And you know what that means...”

                “Uh...” Crono’s brain gears were slowing down.

                She ruffled his hair. “We get to find out more about how Frog is doing! I mean, he must be a real hero now! I really want to see this!” As if on cue, the bar quieted down and a  man entered the room, carrying a lute. He was a handsome, rogueish man of about thirty, attired in a white vest and leather breeches, wearing a green cape. He sat down on an unnocuppied stool near where Lucca was sitting, and strummed his lute for a second, checking to see if it was in tune. After that, he began.

 

Once, there were troubled times in the fair kingdom of Guardia

Legends told of a mighty hero that would one day cleanse our Guardia

It was a time of terror, a time of sorrows and woe

Until the hero finally arrived, with a blade that was evil’s foe...

 

                The bard had a magnificent singing voice, one that seemed to soften the hearts of everyone in the vicinity. People left their drinks unattended as they awaited the next verse. Lucca, so close, was equally spellbound. The bard strummed a few notes on his lute, then continued:

 

The legendary hero carried an equally legendary blade

One that made the mightiest Mystics retreat, rather than have stayed

This sword of light, a shining relic of an age long ago in time’s loom

This sword of power, the legendary blade of Masamune...

 

                Lucca bit her lip, remembering Frog--no, Glenn, her friend. He had seemed so sad when they parted ways. She didn’t want him to be depressed the rest of his life. She hoped he was doing better... “Damn Magus!” she whispered harshly. If only she knew the truth, however...

 

The hero and the Masamune cut swiftly through the fray

As for the Mystics and their mage it was the ending day

The hero, a frog-knight triumphed in glory and kept the sword of lore

Proclaiming his work was done for now, and he was needed no more...

 

                Marle was listening attentively. Though most of the people did not hold the wizard Magus in high regard, she knew of the traumatic events that brought him there. If they would just think of how he had been torn from his home and left in a wretched land in the care of human-hating mystics, they would understand more. His goal was not glory for the Mystics, it was to find his way home... and to his sister. But she kept on listening, eager to learn more of Glenn.

 

The hero, a wasted, empty shell of what he was before

Was contemplating of what his glorious life now had in store

As he stood, surviving on old glories and thinking of what life had for him, then

A miracle occured, unknown how, and Glenn was human again.

 

                With this, the bard finished his ballad with a strum on his lute. Silence reigned for a moment, then came the joyous applause. But none in the bar were more astonished than Lucca and Marle (Crono was stone drunk and asleep). Lucca almost couldn’t believe it.

                “F-frog? Human again?” she said to herself, then pulled on the bard’s sleeve. “Um, that was wonderful! I really loved it! But is it really true? Was the hero human again?”

                The bard gave her a smile then spoke. “Why, of course. My ballads are based on historical fact as well as legend. This story has been passed down to us generation to generation, and we do not let the facts become defiled.”

                Lucca kept a straight face, though tears of joy threatened to burst through. “I thank you, kind sir.”

                The bard got up from the stool, strapping the lute to his shoulders. “Think nothing of it, fair lady.” he said with impeccable courtesy. “It’s what I do.” and with that, the bard left the bar, praises and applause following him out the door. Lucca was oblivious to the sounds, however, her mind focused on only one thing. I’ve got to see Glenn!

                “Hey Lucca!” came Marle’s voice. Lucca turned in her direction. She was trying to lift a heavy, drunken Crono from where he had fallen on the floor. “Do you think you could help?”

                Lucca grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.”

 

                About half an hour later, the three were back at Lucca’s house. She had used a remote control device to call one of her heavy duty ‘bots to come and help lifting Crono. Programmed carefully to take care of it’s cargo, the robot cradled Crono in it’s metal arms like a baby, in a way that looked absolutely ridiculuous. Lucca and Marle were still laughing about it even as they sat in the living room, sharing hot chocolate. Crono was in the guest room, sleeping.

                “Isn’t that great?” asked Marle, referring to Frog. “Oh, I wish I could see him! He must be so happy!” Lucca nodded, sipping her chocolate, sharing the exact same feeling with a lot of intensity. Then suddenly it hit her.

                “Yeah!” she shouted, almost splashing her drink all over her. Marle gave Lucca a quizzical look. Lucca immediately realized that she could have blown her cover. “Um, I mean, I totally agree with you! It would be so cool! If only we were able to see him...”

                Marle sipped her drink. “Well, even if we can’t, it’s good enough to know he’s ok!” she then got up from the couch she was sitting on, taking her drink with her. “Um, I guess I’d better go to bed now. Plus I gotta see if Crono hasn’t fallen off the bed or anything.”

                Lucca gave Marle a smile. This was going better than she expected! Now all she had to do was wait until Marle was fast asleep... “Sure! I’ll see you in the morning!”

                Marle waved goodnight, then proceeded to her and Crono’s room. Lucca lay back in her easy chair, her mind scheming. She would do it tonight. She would fix her Portal Spawner. Sure, most of the internal circuitry was fried, but Lucca had saved the blueprints to it in the computer. there were still quite a bit of ‘chips left, and all Lucca had to do now was to redo the circuitry and seal the projector shut. It would be easier to do now, since before she had been working from scratch. So Lucca sat, finished her chocolate, and waited, starting to feel sleepy...

 

                Lucca woke up with a start, still in the easy chair. After a moment, she remembered why she was here and what was to be done. A quick check of the ornate clock on the wall. It was 2:30 AM. They should be asleep by now...

                Lucca slowly made her way off the chair and took off her shoes. The floor was cold, and she winced as her feet made contact with it. Nevertheless, she would not be stoped by cold feet. She tiptoed silently down the hallway, to where the guest room was. She had to make sure that the two were asleep. Nearing the doorway, she noticed a dim light from under the door. She bit her lip. Were they still awake? Why?

                As Lucca tiptoed right in front of the door, she could hear some sounds emanating from the room. A split-second later, she recognized, with some embarassment, what those sounds were. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. Oh God! she thought, slapping her forehead. She couldn’t believe it. They were going at it in her own house! Lucca turned red, then, with a quiet, nervous laugh, silently walked away from the room. For a second, she tried to picture it, Crono and Marle wrapped around each other..

                “Ugh. Don’t even try.” she told herself before her mind could get more descriptive. Am I jealous? No way, Crono’s just my friend. It’s none of my business. I’m outta here! I’m not jealous... am I? Lucca focused on what had to be done instead of what lewd images her mind was conjuring. At least her guests were, ah, preoccupied at the moment. They would not hear her as she went on with her work. Lucca typed in four digits on the numeric keypad next to the door, and with an electronic beep the maglock door opened. Entering her laboratory, she closed the door behind her and flicked on the lights.

                She walked down the steps and onto the linoleum floor. Stepping on the floor, she gritted her teeth. The floor was even colder down here! But she couldn’t turn back now. This could take a while. Pressing a button on the wall, a panel on the wall opened up (the same one as before) and the trash collecting ‘bot came wheeling out. Lucca opened up the lid on it and dug out the remains of the Portal Spawner. She let out a relieved breath. Luckily it wasn’t time yet for the robot to empty its trash in the recycler.

                “Alright, let’s see what we can see.” Lucca spoke to herself as she examined burnt ‘chips and circuitboards. Walking over to the desk that held her computer, she placed the object next to her and booted the computer up. The monitor turned on, fading to color as the computer gave an electronic whine. Working fast, Lucca selected the files of the blueprint she had made and printed it out on a rather old fashioned (at least in its time) and noisy printer. Luckily the lab was soundproof. After a few minutes, a large, blue sheaf of paper came out of the printer. Lucca waited for the paper to dry, and then pulled it out and set it on the floor along with the Portal Spawner, setting her computer to standby mode in order to keep it from using too much energy.

                What followed was about an hour or two of working on the Spawner. Lucca had used just about the last of her microchips and other technical junk to get this thing working. Fusing the tear in the metal shut with a welder, Lucca gave the device a thorough double-check before she tried to start it up again. Don’t go down on me this time...

                A flick of a switch. An electronic hum. All was going perfectly at the moment (she hoped). The glass lens of the Spawner was a milky, bright blue color. The colors swirled around in the glass. Lucca gave a silent thanks to whatever Gods were out there and watched her creation do its work. The blue color in the lens, of course, was a miniature gate. It was too small to do anything at the moment, but it would change size and shape as the machine did its work.

                The electronic hum grew louder, as did its tempo. The milky blue color started to flow out of the lens, in a very surreal way. The blue light was gaining size and a more stable shape as time passed. Now it was the size of a porthole. Soon, it would be large enough for one person.

                “C’mon... that’s it.” Lucca whispered eagerly as the gate grew larger. After two minutes, the tear in space/time fabric was her size. Lucca couldn’t help but to jump up in the air and yell “Yes!!!!!!!”. As she prepared her belongings she brought with her for her journey, something happened.

                At first, Lucca thought it was the gate collapsing, and her heart sank for a second. But she soon realized that it was the gate expanding. It was growing larger than it was expected to, and at an abnormally high rate. Lucca’s glasses fell off her nose and almost hit the floor if it weren’t for her reflexes. She didn’t put them on, however, just staring at the blue void.

                “Uh oh...”

                The gate expanded, swallowing Lucca and every other living thing in her house into a blue void.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

                Ioka Village, 65,000,004 B.C.

 

                The sun was shining on this day, as it did every day, but there were a few more clouds than usual. Of course, the weather left something to be desired too. It was getting colder every year. The tar pits were starting to sink and harden. Even the lava pits where Azla’s fortress once was were starting to harden. Game was becoming scarce. It seemed that things weren’t going to get any better soon.

                Ayla, chief of Ioka villiage, sat on the outside of her hut. For warmth, in addition to her skimpy fur outfit, she wore a thin cloak of animal hide. There was a fire going on inside the hut, of course, as well as a large bonfire in the village square. Her husband, Kino, was at Laruba village, trying to help with the problems that came with the colder weather. The other able bodied males and females were at the hunting range, trying to find what little they could.

                Ayla looked up from her sitting position, long treeses of blond hair falling out from the hood that covered her head. “No like. Trouble come soon, maybe worse than Lavos.” and with that, she stood up and went in the direction of the hunting range, in order to help her people find something to eat. Kino would be back soon, and he could manage Ioka without her for a while. Grabbing her battered wodden club, Ayla gave a war cry and ran to the hunting range.

 

                An hour later, Ayla and several other males and females had felled a beast large enough to feed everybody, at least for today. The beast was a Mastadon, and those were very hard to come by and very tough to kill. But Ayla had cracked its skull with a single blow from her club. The other hunters held her in a very high regard for that, strengthening her image as a fearless leader.

                Soon the hunters, lugging the carcass all the way, had reached Ioka. They brought the beast to the town square, straining with every step. Ayla motioned for the hunters to place the beast near the fire pit and prepare it to feed her people. She wiped sweat off her brow and plopped down on the dirt, exhausted. The other warriors were proceeding to clean the beast and cook the meat. One warrior moved away from the fire pit and walked up to Ayla.

                “You strong. We proud of you, Ayla. You keep us alive in bad time.” the man said. He bowed to his chief, and then ran down to join the others at the fire pit. The flames in there blazed a brilliant orange, warming everyone in the vicinity. Soon, the smell of cooking meat was in the air, arousing the villagers who had all come to the town square. Ayla stood up, rejuvinated after a long rest. However, the young warrior’s words still echoed through her mind. She shook her head.

                “Ayla not good leader. Before, it was Azala and Reptites. There was food then and warm sun. Now there is not. We are dying, and I afraid to be chief.” the warrior woman took off her cloak, since the fire was already warming the place enough. Sweat glistened on her now bronzed skin. The sun was setting to the west, and it would be night soon. At least the villagers had a fire to keep them warm. Most of the people in Laruba weren’t able to do that.

                “Ayla!” came a familiar yell. Ayla turned in the direction of the yell, and saw a sight that kept her from slumping deeper into despair. It was her husband, Kino. Kino was running to her, along with several representatives of Laruba village. He was growing a beard now, and the years of work taken its toll on him. His yellow hair was showing streaks of gray, and though he was in good shape, he had developed a slightly bad posture. The other Larbua villagers looked none the better. They were almost skin and bone, with scraggly hair and pale skin. Kino held out his hand, motioning them to halt, then walked toward his wife. The two shared a strong embrace, oblivious to the others around them.

                “Kino! You back now!” said Ayla, strong willed but weakened by the hardships of the past years. “Is Laruba village fine? Not look so good, seeing other villagers.” Ayla pointed to the people who had followed Kino. He nodded.

                “They have no food. Laruba be running away from Reptites all time, so no have skill to hunt. I must speak to vilage and tell them of plight.” Kino said. Ayla nodden, and gave him a kiss before he got up and walked to the fire pit.

                Kino spread his arms wide. “Ioka village, please listen. Friends in Laruba have no food, they cold and sick. I build fire for them, but still have no food. I ask that Ioka spare half of hunt to Laruba. They need like we do.” after Kino was finished, a chorus of angry voices erupted.

                “We no give food! We work hard for food, but Laruba not! They cowards and shame to us! Let them get own food!” came one voice. There were general sounds of aggreement throughout the crowd. Kino again implored the villagers to help.

                “Laruba our friends. We must help them! Please, enough food for all! Share! They need!”

                But to no avail. Several villagers started to throw rocks, and more grabbed clubs or anything else to get at Kino and the Laruba villagers. A club knocked out one Laruba villager. Rocks sailed, hitting people on both sides. Soon, it became a full scale riot. One of the Laruba villagers was killed, and another one took revenge on the killer. On both sides, people were dropping like flies. Kino yelled as loud as he could for it to stop, but a large rock struck him on the head, and he fell, blood seeping from his forehead. Ayla could take no more of it. She brought up her fist and struck the Earth, and the ground trembled with her wrath. The fighting stopped. The hunters had seen what Ayla could to to a Mastadon skull, and no one wanted to mess with her after that, and especially after this. The warrior woman stood up from the ground, walking over to her wounded husband, cradling him in her arms, she frantically checked for any signs of life. Kino was still breathing. She sighed in relief, then placed him gently on the ground. She looked around her, seeing badly beaten bodies littered about.

                “Fools!” she yelled with her loudest voice. “Fools you are! Look what happen! Is Ioka village satisfied? Is you happy to kill fellow brother?” she awaited a response: none came. Eveyone was hanging their heads in shame. “There enough food to feed both Ioka and Laruba for long time! But look what you do!” she clenched her fists in anger. “Laruba human too. Like us, bleed red. They have problem too, no just us! They no Reptites! They no cold blood! They human, like us! Our brothers and sisters... why we kill? Why?!” Ayla sunk to the ground, fighting back tears. “You no true human if you deny our brother and sister people food. You no better than Reptites! No better than Lavos!” the strain was too much for her. She curled up in a ball, sobbing. The Ioka and Laruba villagers were shocked. Never had they seen the chief break down like this. Hands were shook, apologies made, and plans for a burial ceremony made. the villagers split up the hunt, so ther was enough food to substain both tribes for weeks. Kino had gotten up, wincing where his head was hit by a rock, but forgetting the pain when he saw his wife. He rushed to her and held her in his arms.

                “There there. All is better. No cry, Ayla. No cry.” a tear slid down his dirty cheek, but he angrily wiped it away. Ayla did the same, pushing aside her sadness. Ayla stood up, helping her wounded husband do the same. Seeing both villagers eating peacefully made them feel better, and soon they took their share of food and joined the others. As Ayla sat down to eat, she noticed the same warrior who had praised her earlier for being strong. He was smiling, food in his hand.

                “Ayla strong.” he said, almost a whisper but loud enough to be heard by her. She felt relieved. Her people could still trust in her, even after this. “Ayla strong...”

 

                It was night. The fire in the square burned brightly, warming most of the huts in the vicinity. All of the huts had their own fires as well. There was one burning in Ayla’s hut, as she leaned on the wall of the hut, looking outside. Kino was sitting on their bed, his wound cleaned and bandaged by his wife. He looked at her.

                “Ayla, why worry? People fine now.”

                Ayla looked back at him, loving his ability to sense whenever she was having inner turmoil. “People fine now, but what about after? What about when there not enough food for us all?” she said. “No want war. We have war with Reptites and win, but we no win war against ourselves. In the end, we all die.” she said, hanging her head down. Kino walked up to her, realizing she was weeping. He placed an arm on her shoulder.

                “No, we not die. You strong, Ayla. You help us. We no have war, you wise and strong.”  Ayla look up at him, teary eyed.

                “Really? You think I strong? When you no cry and I always do?” Kino smiled.

                “Yes, you strong. Crying no matter. At least you secure enough to do so, not like me.”

                Ayla ugged her husband. “Kino, thank you...” she said, wiping away tears. He hugged her close and kissed her forehead.

                “Shh. No more talk.” he said, lying down next to her, and for the next few hours they forgot about the riot, and killings, and all other problems until they both fell asleep, exhausted.

 

                It was day. The sun shone brightly today, and though the wind was cold, the sun kept the land warm. Ayla was outside her hut, her cloak not needed. The hunters were getting more food to ration out to both villages. Kino was off again to Laruba, helping with the burial ceremony. Ayla sighed. She was glad she had him, only he seemed to understand her fully. She pushed away golden strands of hair and stood, holding her club in front of her. She was awaiting the results of the hunt.

                Ayla heard a sound in the distance. Looking toward it, she saw a figure running toward the village in the distrance. After a few minutes, she could see that it was that young warrior from yesterday. He finally made it in front of Ayla, out of breath and trying to speak.

                “Chief... we.. find... something...” he said, then coughed. Ayla helped him stand.

                “Wait. Drink water, then talk. Tell me name.” she said, handing him a waterskin. The man drank heavily, water spilling down his chin. After he was done, he spoke.

                “My name Kanor.” he said, still breathing heavily.

                Ayla nodded. “Kanor, what you see?”

                “We be hunting and find small game, but then it rain! And after rain, strange creature appear!”

                Ayla blinked. She had heard the rumors of this beast, and even seen it with her own eyes, but that happened only once. “Blue creature? All head?”

                Kanor nodded. “Yes! He tell us go to Mystic Mountain. We ask, but he no answer. He just say go to Mystic Mountain.”

                Ayla thought for a moment. The blue beast was very strong, almost as strong as her. And it was extremely wise. She knew this from experience. If the beast said to go to Mystic Mountain, then she would go. “Ok. Thank you Kanor. Go gather small party and follow me to Mystic Mountain.” and with that, Ayla went into her hut to gather supplies and fur cloaks. Kanor stood there, admiring her.

                “Ayla strong. And wise.”

 

                Later that day, Ayla and some other followers were at the foot of Mystic Mountain. All of the followers were hand picked warriors, they were ready for anything. Nobody knew why the Blue Beast had told them to go to the mountain, but none would question each other. There were rumors of the beast. That it was the first inhabitant of the world. That it had power beyond imagination. That it was a God in an avatar form. This, coupled with the fact that it seldom talked to people, was disturbing.

                “Ayla certain we must go up?” asked one shaggy-maned warrior. The chief gave him a cold look, and he quieted down.

                “Come. We go.” she said, slinging her club over her shoulder. She closed her fur cloak around her and drew her hood up. The other warriors followed this example, and began trudging up the path of the mountain. The path was a long, winding road that lead up to a cliff. Ayla remembered that there had been a strange hole there (a gate), but that had dissappeared after she and her friends had beaten Lavos.

                The wind was getting stronger, and white flakes were swirling in the air. Ayla knew what this was, but the other warriors had never seen snow before. Some of them became uneasy.

                “This bad omen!” one person yelled. “Evil spirits! Come, we go! Forget Blue Beast!”

                Ayla fixed him with a stare that could kill. The man quieted down, though not without complaint. The others began to murmur softly, praying to the Gods that they would be protected in this cold, high place. Only Kanor was undaunted.

                They had reached a cliff near the very top. Underneath this area was where Crono and Co. had first met Ayla. It was here where the strange blue hole was, but now it was there no more. Ayla wondered why the Nu had told her to come up here, but she was not one to question him. After all, what were humans compared to Gods? The Ioka villagers worshipped the Nu as God of the hunt, and seeing him in the hunting range after the rain was considered both a curse and a blessing. Only Ayla had seen the Nu before. For this, as well as her earlier reputation, she was elected chief of Ioka. Now, others have seen it and were afraid. They knew to obey it, though not why.

                Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes. A soft, but meanicing, pitter-patter of feet could be heard. The warriors grew tense, every one frightened but willing to give their lives to save their chief. Kanor tossed aside his thick mane of dark red hair and gripped his club tightly.

                Ayla was equally tense, but maintained control. “Wait. No attack until I say so.” The warriors waited. A large, blue head slowly made its way out of the bush. The Nu satarted to advance toward the group, slowly but surely, its blank face betraying no emotion. The warriors started to break down and run. After all, what were they to a God? Frightened of being smote down, all of the men except Kanor turned tail and ran down the mountain path, screaming curses and prayers alike. Ayla blinked. So much for warriors.

                Kanor, however, had enough bravado to face the beast. He raised his club and uttered a war cry, running toward the blue creature. The Nu made no move to defend itself of attack. It just stopped and stood there, waiting.

                “Kanor! You stop!” yelled Ayla, but to no avail. Kanor kept running, screaming all the way, and brought his club down in an arc that would have smashed the skull of a man (or Reptite) and seperate the head from the neck. The club smashed against the Nu. It shattered.

                Kanor stood there, dumbfounded. He had attacked the creature with all of his strength, yet it still stood there! And its face revealed nothing. It was like looking at a wall. Kanor clenched his fists and faced the Nu, ready to fight even to the end. Then a callused but delicate hand was felt on his shoulder.

                “No more, Kanor.” said Ayla. “It not want to fight. It bring us here for reason, and I think reason very important.”

                You are exactly correct, child.

                The voice shocked both of them. Kanor searched around blindly, looking to see where the voice came from. Ayla, however, knew what it was. The Nu hadn’t moved its mouth at all, but somehow she could sense that the voice came from the creature.

                “Nu’Khama, God of hunt, I at your command.” said Ayla, kneeling and placing her club in front of her. Kanor, seeing that all attacks were futile, knelt down also. The Nu hobbled in front of the two and placed two thin hands on their shoulders.

                Arise, my children. You have no need to kneel before me, I am flesh and blood like you. Have no fear.

                Ayla slowly stood up, with Kanor, both of them keeping their faces averted from the Nu out of respect.

                Look at me.

                A simple, yet commanding tone. The two raised their heads and looked the creature in the eyes. The Nu blinked. His eyes were small, yet he had perfect vision. Thousands of millenia of evolution had perfected his race on their original home... the Nu began to “speak” again.

                Young ones, you and the others may have defeated Lavos, but even after he was defeated, trouble was brewing. I have not the time to answer your questions...  you must get in the gate!

                Ayla understood what “gate” meant. But it was not there anymore. How was she supposed to fulfill her divine duty? “Great spirit, how I do what you say? No more gate!”

                The Nu pulled out a shiny, metal object from somewhere on his body. Holding it up to the edge of the cliff, he waited. A tiny, dark hole of blue matter, a tear in the fabric of space/time, was beginning to form. The Nu pressed a button on the object, and the hole enlarged enough to fit several people in it. With that done, the Nu turned toward the two.

                You must enter this gate... thought there are not three of you, it will take you to the End of Time. There, you must wait for the others. I have said all that I need to say. Now go!

                Ayla took a deep breath, lowered the hood on her cloak, and started to walk toward the gate. She stopped when she noticed that Kanor was following her. She turned around.

                “Kanor, you go back. This not your trouble.” the man stood his ground.

                “No! Must protect you!”

                Ayla pushed him back. “Go! Back to Ioka, tell Kino what happen. You help me much.” Ayla hefted her club onto her shoulders, and started to walk toward the blue void that was the gate. The Nu was waiting beside the portal. As Ayal stepped to the portal, Kanor made a move to follow her. However, Ayla was quick. She grabbed him by his long, dark red hair and held him in front of her.

                “ Kanor! You no follow! Obey your chief!” she said harshly. When she saw his hurt look, though, she softened her voice. “Kanor, you brave man. Look at others! All run away when Nu’Khama come! Only you stay.” she smiled. “But this my mission. Sense danger ahead, and no wan anyone else involved. Want you and others to be safe.” she released the grip on his hair. “Go. Go to Ioka and tell Kino everything. I need him to know so he no worry.” Ayla pulled a string of beads and Reptite claws from around her neck, and handed them to Kanor. He was shocked. “I need people look over Ioka.” she said, placing the necklace around his neck. “You help me. Look over Ioka and Laruba, keep war from happening. I trust you, Kanor. You now chief in my place.”

                Kanor stared at the string of beads on his neck. That necklace was only for those that were competent enpugh to look over the tribes. He grasped it in his hand, making a fist.

                “I make you proud, Ayla! I look over Ioka when you go, there no be problem!” he then said solemnly, “I promise.”

                The warrior woman gave him a thumbs-up, and a grin. “I trust you. Now Go!” Kanor sped down the mountain trail, dissapearing from sight. Ayla now faced the portal again. She bravely and calmly walked toward the blue void. It was growing bigger and bigger as she walked toward it. Finally at the edge of the cliff, she looked behing her. The Nu was standing there.

                “You come along?” said Ayla.

                The Nu shook his head. He held out to her the device that he used to open the portal, placing it in her palm. Ayla looked at it for a while. It seemed so familiar... The Nu spoke.

                This is a Gate Key. You might remember that one of your friends had made a crude yet effective one. This is the same, but it is more advanced. I want you to take it with you and show it to Gaspar. He will tell you and the others what to do next. Now go. I must watch over this time. Good luck, Ayla.

                The Nu seemed to grow transparent, then vanish entirely. Ayla pocketed the Gate Key, and faced the gate.

                “Now it is time.”

                She stepped into the swirling blue miasma, being absorbed into it like water into a sponge. The gate crackled with energy after she went inside it, then grew smaller and after a few minutes and a release of electricity, imploded into nothingness. The wind blew fiercly on the cliff of Mystic Mountain, carrying with it the voice of the Nu.

                Countless millenia have we waited... and now, it begins. It is a period of Dangerous times...

               

                (Author’s Note: Well, I hope you’re enjoying what I made so far. Still, I am brainstorming what is to come. Only one character remains to be documented: Magus. Save the best for last, eh? I plan to go more deeply into the plot after all the characters are documented. If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, e-mail me at [email protected]. Sayonara, and enjoy what is to come.)

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

                Uncharted Area, 12,000,004 B.C.

 

                Though the wind was strong today, the sun shone with a brilliance, warming up the Earth. For thousands of years the world was covered with ice and snow, and now, it was starting to melt. Birds flew in the blue skies, carrying materials to build their nests. Flowers and other plants were popping up across the land, accompanied by bees and butterflies. It was Spring at last. Not only because it was the month of spring, but because at this time the long ice age was coming to an end. A settlement of humans lay on one continent, grown from a ragged band of survivors in tents to a small, fortified town. Houses were built using evergreen lumber from the nearby forests. People were living in peace at last. All except one.

                Far from the town of humans, there was a large, rocky cliff overlooking the sea. On this cliff, there was a house made of stone brought all the way from the mountains that were on several other islands in the cold ocean. The house stretched across the cliff, a wodden dock leading down the cliff to the front of the rocky beach by means of wooden stairs. There was something odd about the architecture, a style suggesting a simple home but carrying a sense of, well, regalness to it. The solid rock of which the house was hewn out of was impeccably smooth, with no chips or cracks in the rock. Though the stone was cold as the weather, the house was always warm inside.

                Looking inside the house, one might admire the interior decorator’s taste. The floor was hardwood with ornamental carpets stretched across it in various places. Windows fitted with clear glass were at regular intervals on the walls, and a large fire was blazing away contentedly in the fireplace. From the smell of the house, one would guess an apothecary or herbalist lived there. If they would have noticed the door leading to the huge chamber hewn out of the solid rock of the cliff, they would have known better. That was a spellcasting chamber, sturdy and soundproof. Which meant that the owner of this house was affilliated with or was a user of magic, a magus.

 

                Following the destruction of Zeal, most of the remaining “Enlightened Ones” had lost the source of their power, and ceased to use magic. However, there were a select few with the gift, and they were looked upon with disdain from the general populace. Users of magic, or magi, were the scapegoats of society. People blamed magi for just about every bad event, whether it be famine or bad weather. Although most of these rumors were flase, some of them were true, and there were people using their gift of magic as a means for power over people. Due to this, in the following year of the destruction of Lavos several magi grouped together and formed an alliance, called the Conclave of Wizards. It was the Conclave’s duty to train young people with the gift of magic to harness it properly, and not to use it for personal gain, or for power over people. It was also the Conclave’s duty to hunt down any “renegade” (those who abused their gift of magic) and to use any means to stop them, even if it means their death. The Conclave would record the name of every aspiring magus that became a sorcerer in the Conclave, in order to keep track of them and to make sure that they do not abuse their power. Every magic user on Earth was known by the Conclave, every one kept under watch. Except one...

 

                Back to the house on the cliff. Inside the solid rock spellcasting chamber, a man was busy at work. One wouldn’t be too quick to call him a man, though. He had long, flowing blue hair streaked with white that cascaded down his back. His ears were pointed, and his eyes the color of lavender. Around his neck, he wore a silver amulet, one that an astute observer would recognize as the royal crest of the late Kingdom of Zeal.

                The man was busy at work, compiling notes in a leather-bound book that he kept open on a wooden table in front of him. Though he would frequently venture outside into the forests or near the human village, he was avoided out of superstition. Not only by the villagers, but also by magi of the Conclave. Rumors were whispered about him. That he was a renegade, so powerful that the Conclave avoided him. That he was a demon, a demi-god. And the rumors just kept on coming.

                None of these rumors could be proven, of course. The truth was, the Conclave of Wizards did not avoid him. Rather, he avoided them. The man had no desire to be part of a union of magi. He preferred to work alone, to not be disturbed. And so he wasn’t. Only on certain occasions when the Conclave formally invited the man to certain events--such as the initiation of magi and the dreaded “test” to determine if they were to become a mage (a test that could possibly kill you)--would he join them.

 

                Janus was sitting on the table in his spellcasting chamber, writing notes in his book that he kept open. The quill pen he used was perfectly sharp, not cracking or sputtering as others did. Taking a glimpse into the book at what Janus was writing, one would notice:

                “Contrary to popular belief, ‘gates’, or time portals, were not created by Lavos. Time portals have always been around, but they have been mostly inacessible. When Lavos arrived on Earth in the year 65000000 B.C., the effect was a sort of distortion in the fabric of space-time, causing certain areas where the fabric was weak to be torn just a little.”

                Janus stopped. He looked up, his weary eyes scanning the area. It was too dark, and he could not see what he was writing. “Shirak,” he said softly. Immediately, a globe of magic light formed above him, illuminating the area around him with an unearthly blue light. Janus smiled for a moment, then got back to his task.

                “These tears in the fabric of space-time were unique. A portal could open by itself, but no one could open a portal... no one, that is, except one with the proper tools. My past experiences with the Six have shown me how, but not why, these mechanisms work. Lucca, for instance, had unintentionally opened a ‘gate’ in the Millenial Fair in the year 1000 A.D., using a mechanism of her’s that was supposed to harmlessly transport someone from one pod to the other. Due to a reaction from...” Janus paused here, seemingly in a state of inner turmoil, which quickly passed. “...from Guardia’s pendant (an heirloom which was once the Dreamstone pendant of Schala of the Kingdom of Zeal), as well as from Lucca’s machine, a ‘gate’ was opened up. The realitly was that the combination of the two reactants caused the very small tear in space-time to enlarge, swallowing Marle (Princess Nadia) into it and beginning the grand adventure that resulted in the being known as Lavos’s destruction.”

                Janus paused once more. His hand was getting sore from all the writing, and he did not wish to spend the entire day in his study, no matter how much he needed to continue his notes. Alfador would be waiting for him, or course. Janus closed the book, placing it into a drawer inside the wooden desk. He stood up from his chair, stretching out kinks in his muscles. That done, he proceeded to exit his spellcasting chamber (used as his study). Turning back, he eyed the glowing ball of light he had summoned to illuminate the room.

                “Dumak,” he said, almost a whisper. The ball of light instantly snuffed out, bathing the chamber in inky darkness.

 

                It was evening. The sunset over the main continent was beautiful, the sky a color of orange and pink. Birds flew to their nests, bringing food to their children. In the human village, lights popped on as the sky became darker. Janus stood behind his house, his long hair waving in the breeze. He wore a purple cloak, fastened at the clasps, the metal from his amulet gleaming silver in the sunset. The glint off of the cold metal caught his eye, and he held it in his hand, gazing at the amulet with sad eyes.

                A soft yet startling thump on his back brought Janus back into action, and he could feel something furry crawling on his shoulders. He rolled his eyes: he was expecting an enemy.

                “Alfador, how many times have I told you not to do that?” the lavender-coated cat just meowed in reply, nuzzling against Janus’s cheek, purring contentedly. Janus dropped the matter; Alfador always found a way to sneak up on him, no matter if he was on guard or not. The cat was magical, after all. Janus paused to pet the cat’s lavender fur. Not even he knew the extent of the cat’s abilities. Alfador was given to him as a present from his sister, Schala, during the era of the Kingdom of Zeal. The two became literally inseperable, since the haughty, arrogant Prince Janus did not attract many freinds. After Zeal was destroyed, Janus had found his kitten in the Earthbound Village. He did not return for Alfador until after Lavos was destroyed. He had then come to retrieve his long lost cat, now his only companion.

                Janus sighed. Schala was still missing, or maybe even dead, as far as he knew. He had been searching for her ever since him and the companions had finished their journeys through time, though to no avail. He still never gave up hope, and still did not even to this moment. Janus clutched his amulet, his fist shaking.

                “I swear, Schala, that I will find you someday. I have spent the past twenty-five years trying to get back to you, and when I did, I lost you again...” he shivered, his thoughts interrupted by something only he could feel. Alfador could sense his companion’s emotions, and mewed softly, curling up in a ball on his shoulder. The Black Wind. Janus had not felt it in years, and now it was blowing once again. And at an alarmingly high rate. The Black Wind pierced through his soul like a dagger of ice, paralyzing him for a minute, the pain, anguish, and fear coursing throughout his body. He cried out, and Alfador jumped off his shoulder, giving his friend a curious look, tilting his small head just a little. Janus fell to his knees, clutching his head... and then the pain vanished. The Black Wind died down to less than a whisper, and was gone. Janus was still shivering from the effects. He knelt still, his breath clouds of vapor in the cold night air.

                “Something is wrong...” he whispered to himself, standing up and wrapping his cloak tighter around his frame. “I can feel it...”

                Alfador mewed imaptiently, looking toward the warm house. It was getting cold, and Janus felt sorry for his cat. He picked up Alfador and cradled the cat in his arms, walking into his house. He had to continue his notes, anyway. Now especially because of what he felt. Even now, he felt a lingering sense of dread that simply would not go away. Entering the house, he shut the door behind him and placed Alfador on a cushioned chair, proceeding into the kitchen. There, he fixed himself a cup of herbal tea, taking it along with him as sat down on a couch in the living room, thinking.

                “I have to leave this place..” he said softly. “I must find out why I felt the Black Wind. Only several times in my life have I felt it, and most times were due to Lavos...” his expression turned into a scowl.

                A knock was heard on the door. Janus stood up, wary, placing his tea on a small table next to his chair. Not many people knew that he lived here, and not many people came to visit. Words for attack spells forming in his mind, Janus opened the front door, ready for anything. There was a man wearing a red robe and cloak, fastened at the clasps by a seal, one that Janus recognized as the symbol of the Conclave of Wizards: an eye, the color of white, red and blue. That symbolized the three magicks: Lightning, Fire, and Water. Shadow was not taught, the knowledge of it being scarce and the people that could harness such power rare, if around at all.

                The man had a patch on the shoulder of his robe, three horizontal black lines, symbolizing his rank, a beginning mage, still in apprenticeship and having passed “the Test.” His black hair was shoulder length, and his eyes were brown. The red robe symbolized Fire magic, apparently this magus’s field of study. The man looked up, his features calm, with a bit of haughtiness in them. He gave Janus a slight grin before he spoke.

                “Forgive my intrusion, sir, but I am an emmisarry representing the Elders of the Conclave of Wizards. My name is...”

                “Yes, yes I know.” said Janus impatiently, waving the man off. “Justarius. I was present at last season’s passing of the Test. You were there, of course. Think I couldn’t remember, didn’t you?” under his breath, he added, “You damn cheater...”

                Justarius did not hear that last remark. The young mage was at a loss for words, but his arrogance took over, steeling him. “Actually, I did think that you had forgotten, Janus.”

                Janus’s hand, in a leather glove, firmly and uncomfortably grasped Justarius’s shoulder. A discharge of lightning was heard with an electric crackle, and the young mage cried out, falling to the floor of the house.

                “Watch your tounge, boy!” Janus spat out. “You and every other dimwitted apprentice and archmagus alike know how to address me!”

                Justarius slowly gathered himself to his feet, noting that he was not given a helping hand. His lip curled in a sneer, and he looked straight at his tormentor in an angry gaze, But he found that he could not look into those lavender eyes, ones so full of hatred and sorrow, ones giving him a look that could kill, without averting his gaze, and so he willed himself to calm down, deciding that his life and assingment was more important than his wounded pride.

                “Forgive me, Magus.” he said, executing a low, formal bow. “I did not mean to invoke your wrath. My most sincerest apologies.”

                Janus sighed. “That’s more like it, apprentice.” he said. “Let us stick to formalities, yes?” his tone then changed to an angry, bitter one. “Why are you here?”

                Justarius stood up straight, determined to show Magus that he was no weakling. At Magus’s request, he entered the house and shut the door behind him. Out of a pocket from his red robe he pulled out a scroll, the parchment rolled up tightly. Breaking the wax seal, Justarius began to read.

                “It is with great honor that we, the Elders of the Conclave of Wiz...”

                Janus snatched the scroll away from him. “Better that I read that part and get to the point.” he said, eyes scanning the parchment. “...formally request...bla, bla, bla... Well, it isn’t the Test, that was taken last season. Hmm... get to the point, you damned geezers! ... wish for you to join us at the next meeting of Elders.. hah! What a bunch of doddering geriatrics! Trust the Conclave to write a load of rubbish and send one of their lackeys out here!” Justarius was angered by the caustic remark, but kept silent. Janus took not of that but was not concerned. “...invite you to the next meeting... seventh day of the seventh month... Good, it’s July the second right now so I don’t have to wait too long.”  Janus paused with his criticism, noting a passage that caught his attention.

                “...to discuss matters of dire urgency and of the upmost importance...” he remembered how he felt when the Black Wind howled through him, and shivered at the memory. Janus felt that the Conclave was actually being serious about this, probably the Black Wind had brought a disturbance in the Astral Plane that the magi could detect. Janus raised an eyebrow, actually glad that they had decided to contact him. He rolled the parchment back up, tossing it to a butterfingered Justarius who almost dropped it on the floor.

                “Well, it looks like the Conclave of Dimwits finally got some sense knocked into them.” said Janus, tightening his leather gloves, a habit he had picked up long ago and wouldn’t quit. Justarius gave him an agitated look which Magus ignored, proceeding to open the door for the young apprentice mage to leave. As he was doing that, a soft meow could be heard, and Alfador rolled off the couch he was resting on, jumping up on Magus’s shoulder. The sight amused the arrogant Justarius, and he chuckled.

                “Well, master Magus, I didn’t expect someone like you to have any pets.” after seeing those lavender eyes narrow and focus on him like a predatory beast, Justarius swallowed nervously, thinking of taking back the remark.

                “I prefer the term ‘familiar’ as opposed to ‘pet’, apprentice.” Janus said, in a low yet brooding voice. Alfador was purring contentedly, oblivious to the turmoil around him. Janus reached up and petted his friend, his gaze not leaving Justarius. “You wouldn’t understand, you third-rate fool! Now go, and do not return! Unless you want your life shortened, my dear Justarius. You have already shortened my patience to the breaking point, and if you don’t want your body changed to a form more fitting to one of your kind,” Janus chuckled, thinking of Glenn. “then I suggest that you shut up and leave right now! Begone, apprentice!” and with that, Janus muttered an incantation, and a strong gust of cold wind threw Justarius out of the door and right smack into a nearby tree. Janus shut the door behind him.

                After a few minutes, Justarius got up and brushed pine needles and bark off of his red robes, his mind clouded with fury. “That bastard...” he seethed. “Just because I cheated once on the Test, he thinks that he can rub it in and ruin my reputation. Hah! The vote was all for me, the Elders all, and Magus the only opposition, and I passed!” the young mage snickered, his anger fading away. “Ah well, I am patient. I will get the better of you one day, Magus...” he said, and clutching the seal of the Conclave that held his cloak, he spoke a single word.

                “Krynau.”

                The teleporting spell took effect, and Justarius was gone.

 

                Janus sat back down on his chair, reaching for his tea. It had cooled down during the past few minutes, and he cursed, thinking that he should have changed the young mage into a peacock after all. Well, it is more fitting to his pride, thought Janus. To a fool who passed the Test by cheating!

                The thought of that brought him to thinking about Glenn. Magus had, years ago, killed the great knight Cyrus and cursed Glenn with the form of a frog. Ever since then, Glenn had kept a hostile attitude toward Magus that simply would not vanish. Janus had been thinking about that for the past few days, in fact, he had been thinking about that for the past three years. He thought back to the time when he and the other six had camped out in the woods near Fiona’s shrine. During that time, they had discussed this theory about “gates”, a theory that Janus was beginning to understand better. That all that they have gone through and changed was almost like the life of an entiy, being changed at certain parts that the “entity” had, apparently, wanted to be changed. Janus had a vague idea of what this entity was, but still it was only a theory. To him, this entity was a manefestation of the seven chosen ones’ (him and the others) desires, their past shame, their subconsious. Apparently, what they had changed was for the better. Fiona had accomplished her dream of rebuilding the great forest due to the seven, and Medina village became a peaceful (if somewhat hippie-like) town. Cyrus’s ghost was put to rest, and many other events that were accomplished seemed to help the seven in some way or another, as well as others.

                “Maybe this my manefestation,” thought Janus. “Maybe it is time that Glenn should walk free, as a human being.” though extremely hostile and arrogant, Janus, like all other magi, understood the Balance. That no force, not good nor evil, should be given an upper hand. Both forces must equal out in order to keep the Balance. That was just the way things were. He remembered trying to explain that to an irritated Glenn, during his visit to Cyrus’s grave.

                “We magi recognize that there must be a balance in the world,” Magus had tried to explain. “Darkness follows the day, both are necessary for our continued existence. Thus the Law, laid down centuries ago, when magic was finally restricted to all but wizards, respects both the dark and light. They ask that, in turn, all magi respect the Law, which had been laid down over the centuries in order to protect magic and those who practice it. The loyalty of any wizard must be to the magic first, all other causes second.”

                Needless to say, Glenn had not been convinced. He had remarked about his amphibian form, sarcastically asking if it was as a result of the “Balance” or not. Now as Janus thought about that remark, the more he felt the need to balance the scales once more.

                Suddenly, Janus remembered something that had been told to him by Crono. It was when he and the others got Princess Nadis’s pendant to work again, and were exiled by Magus (disguised as a prophet) out of the Kingdom of Zeal and back to where they came from. During the time when the party was using Marle’s pendant to open treasure chests and doors long ago sealed by the pendant, they came across the Elemental Palace, seemingly intact, in the year 1000 A.D., near a village named Medina. They had used the pendant in the “Forest Ruins”, breaking the seal on the remains of the palace. When the seal was broken, a Nu appeared next to two sealed treasure chests. Crono had picked one of the chests (Janus could not remember which one--it was unimportant at the moment), but before he did that, the Nu said something:

                “Thirteen thousand years was a long time, guru Belthasar. I shall be seeing you shortly...”

                Janus stroked his chin, deep in thought. He tried to remember back to when he was but a spoiled prince, a boy of about ten or eleven years of age. Back to when he was recieving magic lessons from the three gurus. When he wasn’t trying to learn magic, he was learning history. One of these history lessons was in his mind as Janus struggled to remember...

 

                “Belthasar, why must I learn this garbage?” asked an angry Janus. The old man looked at the boy in a manner that one would look at an annoying pest. His features softened, however, and he explained.

                “My boy, you can learn a lot from history.” he said. “Certainly more than you could learn from arithmetic or geometry, or possibly even science! No my lad, it is history that is important. Time flows like a river, and history repeats itself.” pulling out a relatively new book from the folds of his robes, Belthasar emphasized what he had said earlier. “We must find out the ways that history repeats, find the mistakes that others before us had made and keep from repeating them. Look here, for instance.” Belthasar flipped the cream-colored pages of the book, searching attentively for a certain section. Janus, already bored, amused himself by dangling a piece of string in front of Alfador, whom he had secretly brought with him, knowing that the guru didn’t approve of him bringing his cat to his lessons. It was too distracting, Belthasar had said. Janus, like any other hot-headed youth, ignored the old fart’s protests and did what he felt like. Alfador, only a little kitten then, was batting at the string with enthusiasm, his sky-blue eyes following the string like a Tiger eyes his quarry. Hunching down, the kitten lept up, his paw swiping the string, only to miss and fall on Janus’s lap (on all fours), making a pitifully cute meow. Janus could not help but to laugh at this, and in doing so caught the attention of Belthasar. Belthasar, seeing that Janus had once again brought Alfador, seethed in anger and frustration.

                “Janus, how many times have I told you not to bring that blasted cat with you to your lessons?! This is the last straw! I will take him out personally.” he said, placing the book on the marble table that they were sitting at and rising out of his chair. His hands reached out for Alfador, who had jumped up on to the table for a better view. As the old man drew nearer, Alfador hissed, jumping up on Janus’s shoulders and trying to hide himself from the guru. Belthasar was about to grab the cat when he noticed how Janus was looking at him. It was a gaze of anger, or pure hatred. Those violet eyes could not conceal it. Belthasar was shocked; he had never witnessed such violent emotions from young Janus, even when this had happened before. Wringing his hands, he stepped back and sat down into his chair. Janus seemed to cool down then, reaching to pet Alfador’s lavender fur. Belthasar sighed. Those two are inseperable, he thought. Picking up the book again, he spoke.

                “This book is a working of mine, it contains historical information gathered by me and countless other historians. I want you to keep it with you, and most importantly, to read it.”

                Janus looked at the book with a feigned interest. The title was “The Mystery of Life”, or something like that. He picked up the book and placed it in front of him, yawning, making a mental note to take it with him befoer he left, just to appease the boring old man who was his tutor.

 

                “Yes, I remember!” Janus exclaimed, almost spilling his cold tea all over the floor. Alfador tilted his head, uttering a questioning meow. Janus patted his cat on the head, smiling.

                “Yes, it was “The Mystery of Life’ if I can remember correctly. There was a section in there if I can remember correctly, one on Nus’...” Janus hastily got up, finally knocking his tea cup over. The cup shattered, tea spilling over the carpeted floor. But Janus did not notice. He had other things on his mind. Janus walked down the hall near his living room, until he reached a torch-lit study, adorned with tapestries and dull furniture. Standing in the room, Janus uttered a series of arcane syllables:

                “Dagch Magch Czech.”

                A large, ornate tapestry depicting the fall of the Kingdom of Zeal slowly became opaque, transparent, then vanished completely. In its place was a pair of metal doors, holding no locks. Yet Janus had created the doors; he knew differently. Breathing a signle word of magic, he held his hands together in a praying positing, slowly moving them apart from each other. The doors slowly opened, and stopped when Janus stopped motioning with his hands. He entered the room behind the doors, and they shut behind him.

                The room was large, and it hadn’t deen used in a long time. Dust coated the floor and shelves, and the air smelled old and musty. Janus sneezed, convering his face and making a sweeping gesture. The dust that was coating every surface gathered into a large pile in the center of the room. Janus’s hand went through several complicated movements, and when he snapped his fingers, the dust vanished. He grinned. The Conclave would soon find a large pile of dust in their meeting room, and would probably wonder how it got there for some time.

                The room was larger than most of the other rooms in the house (excluding the spellcasting chamber). It was lit by a glass chandelier that hung from the ceiling, seemingly about to fall down. Several oil lamps were placed at the corners of the room, providing more light. The furniture consisted of several large bookshelves that lined the walls, and a few chairs placed around a small table. It was Janus’s personal library, where he kept what he considered important; tomes of knowledge, long forgotten in a kingdom long since gone, and unable to be found in any of the human settlements. Books lined the bookshelves, covered by a thin coating of dust. Janus knew what he was looking for. He walked toward the center bookshelf, taking a rather old looking book, flipping pages that had once been cream-colored, pausing to look at the title.

                “The Mystery of Life: A Compilation of Notes Concerning the History of Man and the Phenomena of Life.” below the title, signed in flowing golden script, was the name of the author of the book: Guru Belthasar.

                “C’mon, I know you read me this section once...” Janus said, flipping pages. “Where is it? Ah, here we are.” He reached the chapter that he was looking for. The chapter contained all that was known or speculated about the most enigmatic form of life on the planet: the Nu.

                “...have been around since the beginning of our world...” Janus read, walking out of the library. So absorbed was he in this book that he forgot to safeguard his library. Remembering that, he silently chided himself, and spoke the words to seal the chamber once more.

                “Quedlaunn-Rau.”

                The doors to the hidden library shut promptly behind Janus, and faded away. On the wall again was the ornate tapestry, effectively hiding any trace of the room. Janus walked swiftly out of the hallway and back into the living room, sitting on a couch next to Alfador. The cat sleepily mewed, halfway opening his eyes to see his friend, then shut them, falling back to sleep. It was dusk, around 10:00 at night. But Janus was invigorated by his discovery of the book: one that he had stashed away years ago and hadn’t considered important until now. He began to read again.

                “The Nu (which isn’t their true name; what it is we shall never know) are a complex and extrordinary species, one that we, even in our enlightened state (Janus snorted a this comment), still only have brief information of. Therfore, I, Belthasar, have taken it upon myself to gather as much information on these creatures as possible...” Janus scanned the pages, looking for anything useful. He remembered Belthasar telling him a theory he had on Nus...

                “...apparently have been on this world since it began, but there is no archaeological or physical evidence of Nus around, nothing but cave paintings and ancient legends, dating back to prehistoric times...” Janus read on. “...we have long since learned to make docile servants of these ‘Nu’. They seem to understand quite well our language, as well as other languages of this planet. The Nu are very powerful, almost unbeatable. Apparently, they have a very lengthy life span, for I have found no Nu ‘children’ (assuming if they do have children). The one drawback of these Nu is that they tend to sleep--a lot. Especially when they are on duty. I have no explanation for this phenomena at the moment. However, this trait makes the Nu an easy target for hypnosis, which is how we have harnessed the creatures’ ablilities for ourselves. Before we learned how to do this, the Nus ignored us and the Earthbound ones completely...”

                Janus bookmarked the page, his mind racing. He had already laid out a plan on what to do; he needed this Nu in order to dispel the curse he had placed upon Glenn years ago. There have not been any “gates” around the area since Lavos was destroyed, and Janus did not have the knowledge to create--no, to open the tear in dimensional fabric. According to Belthasar’s analysis, Nus lived practically forever. This would make the creature an excellent vessel for the counter-curse. Janus procured a piece of paper and a quill pen from a nightstand next to him, and took thsoe with him into his spellcasting chamber. Closing the door behind him, Janus stood in the darkness for a moment, reveling in it.

                “Shirak!”

                Once again, the globe of magical light formed, illuminating the area with a pale blue light. Janus walked over to his desk, opening the drawer and removing his personal book of notes. He opened to a page in the middle of the book, a spell that he had written while under the tutalege of Ozzie, Flea, and Slash. Flea had been his magic instructor, bringing out the power in his that was long dormant. She was not kind tutor; her lessons were harsh and painful, yet they did their job. Janus chuckled, remembering how he had paid her and the other two back for their years of work. Bite the hand that feeds you, he mused.

                The spell was one that he had learned along with the spape-changing spell. It was a counter for the former, it would dispel the polymorph no matter how long the spell had been in effect. Janus’s eyes scanned the paper, reading the requirements for the spell. It required a quill pen for writing; preferably of a strrong feather. Janus’s pen was made from the feather of a raven, strong and efficient. Most others, made of feathers from quails or pidgeons, would crack and sputter easily, but not this one. The ink was to be blood, of any animal. Janus would not even slightly consider using Alfador’s. He pulled a dagger from his boot and laid it in front of him, along with an ink bottle. Grasping the hilt, Janus slowly cut a line along his lower wrist. The blade of the dagger cut into his pale skin, and a slow moving stream of blood followed. Janus did not even flinch as he directed the blood into the ink bottle. He stopped when the bottle contained a shallow but efficient supply of his lifeblood. Janus then wrapped cloth around his cut wrist, pressing hard until he was sure the blood had stopped flowing. Magi never squandered their powers, so he did not cast a healing spell. The blood would clot eventually.

                Janus flattened the parchment with his hands, removing his leather gloves for the task. He held the pen in his fingers, stopping a moment to think of what he would write. He had time, since the actual imbuing of magic was after the words have been written. After a few minutes, Janus nodded, dipping the pen in his blood and writing.

                “Consider this an act of pity, not goodwill.” wrote Janus.“The Nu are as old as time and almost eternal, and their memory sharp though they are lazy, so I was able to make this one an able courier. Heed my message: you are free. I release you, Glenn, knight of Guardia. Maybe this will change your feelings toward me, maybe not. I could care less. But there is no need for your present state anymore. Farewell.”

                Janus put down the pen, deciding whether he should sign the paper or not. He eventually decided not to, waiting until the blood ink dried, and he rolled up the parchment. He knew that it must have seemed strange to mention “this Nu an able courier”, but it would make sense when he found a Nu to be the vessel of the counter-curse.

                Now came the part of magic. Janus had to say the incantation, and then the counter-curse would be ready. Holding the rolled up parchment tightly in on hand, Janus closed his eyes, speaking not in the language of magic, but in the common tounge.

 

Counter the curse, o shining force

the one, true power of this Earth

Take back what was once punishment

And restore the Balance once more

 

Free this man from form of beast

Balance the forces of Good and Evil

Darkness comes not without Light,

Nor does Life without Death

 

                Janus opened his eyes, tightening his grip on the parchment. He spoke now in the language of magic, the string of commands that would allow the counter-curse to set in.

                “Ast sularus tsasarak ginji kamjinn!”

                The scroll in which the counter-curse was to be placed shined bright blue in the pale light of the chamber. Janus felt the magic course through him, from all around him. The power spread through his entire body, making his blood rush. The energy found its way into the scroll, and there it stayed. Janus had set it so that it would only release its magic once Glenn opened the scroll and read it. When that was done, the parchment would turn to dust. Now the only task left to perform was to find a Nu to be the vessel of the cure.

                Yet this act of creating the counter-curse had exhausted Janus. He placed the magic scroll in a scroll case, clippping it to his belt. He left the chamber, not even bothering to put away his materials. He did remember one thing though.

                “Dumak.” spoke Janus, and the magical light once again was extinguished. With that done, Janus shut the door behind him, wearily walking toward the couch in the living room. Without another word, he plopped down on the soft furniture and soon fell fast asleep, unconsiously clutching the amulet, the parting gift from his sister.

 

                It was day. The sun shone with a brilliance, and nature basked in its glow. Birds sang, insects busied themselves with food gathering. Even the human village was awake, people going about their business. The sun warmed the land, providing a relaxing contrast to the cool wind that blew.

                Janus felt the warmth on his face, heard Alfador purring loudly in his ear, a message that his friend was hungry and wanted to be outside on this bright, sunny day. Janus mumbled as he woke up, slowly opening his eyes. Bright light streamed into them, and Janus blinked, his vision blurry. He rubbed the sleep dust out of his eyes, slowly sitting up. After a moment, Janus stretched, going to wash himself with cold water in order to wake himself up. That done, he walked outside and let his cat outdoors also. There were four days until the meeting of the Conclave Elders, plenty of time for Janus to complete his task. There was a Nu that lived in the Human village, or at least there was last time Janus checked. He doubted that it had left, since it was a weapon seller. In fact, it was the very weapon seller that was in the city of Kajar in Zeal, while it was still floating in the sky. Most of the other Nus seemed to have died or dissappeared along with the rest of the floating continent. The weapon smith was the only Nu that Janus had come across in the land, and he had been almost all over every spot of dry land, searching for Schala, and he had not seen any other Nus. Plausible, thought Janus, since there were few Nus in the other time eras. How did they live so long? Janus shrugged. Maybe that was something no one would ever know.

 

                Janus was walking down a cobbled road, paved by humans, toward the village. He had wrapped himself in a dark purple cloak for warmth. Even though the sun was shining, the wind still blew fiercly. The human village, or Earthbound village, lay in the horizon, no longer the pitiful settlement of ragged survivors but now a thriving city, with houses or wood and stone, surrounded by tall stone walls and battlements for protection. Janus’s respect for humans went up another notch. These creatures, in only a matter of four years, had grown from virtually nothing into a booming town. And even though Janus shunned the Conclave of Wizards, he had to admit that it was a well-organized group, and that it brought order and discipline to its members.

                Soon Janus was near the gates of the town. Looking at the wooden sign above, he could see the word “Truce” carved gracefully into the wood. He chuckled. Obviously the name was a throwback to four years back, when humans and “enlightened” ones were forced to work together to survive in the cold, desolate land. But still, some distrusts remain, thought Janus as he noticed the odd warning look that the town guards were giving him. He raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, unabashed. Let these fools fear me, he thought. The weak always strive to be weaker, after all.

                Once inside the walls, the town was thriving. People walked through the roads on their way to bazzars or to their work. Green grass grew on the sides of the road, carefully tended for and trimmed. A cherry tree or two could be seen, their pink blossoms swaying in the spring wind. People parted when Janus came through, as if in awe or fear. Children stared at him with eyes full of detestion and admiration mixed together. He frowned, disliking the attention, feeling like it smothered him. He was grateful when he reached the weapon’s shop at last, easily found due to its sign with a sword hanging over the door.

                The shop was roomy, with racks of swords hanging on one of the walls, followed by spears, axes, and other, more complex or unique weapons such as the bardiche, fauchard, or glaive-guisarme. Behind a counter at the end of the shop, an old man stood, waiting for customers. Janus’s brow furrowed. Where was the Nu?

                “Can I help you?” asked the old man, carefully handling a Bec De Corbin as he spoke, gazing at the can-opener like weapon with interest. Janus spoke, carefully choosing his words as to not draw suspicion.

                “Well, yes. I requested the smithy to construct for me a ceratin weapon, one that I am checking up on now. I just wanted to have a word with him, if you don’t mind.”

                The old man, eyeing him dubiously, said, “He’s gone out for the day, collecting firewood for the forge. Are you sure I won’t be able to procure what you are needing?”

                Janus shook his head. “No, but thank you anyway.” he said, walking with impatience out of the store. He knew where the evergreen forests were, and that was probably where the Nu was, as well. Janus swiftly made his way through the crowd, passing out of the gates of Truce, walking in the general direction of North Cape.

                When Janus was out of sight in the distance, a shadowy figure made its way out of behind the town walls. He whispered an arcane syllable, and became invisible, silently stalking his target.

 

                The forests were full of the sounds of life, it being spring time. The ground was littered with pine needles and moss. Janus walked silently through the forest, searching. He was intent upon finding the Nu. The ordeal of creating a counter-curse had temporarily drained him, as it was the curse of all magi to have their strength drained whenever they use magic. The larger the spell, the more it sapped from you. Thus Janus was weary, the night of sleep not helping him much.

                There was a loud snapping sound, and as Janus paused to listen, he heard nothing. He looked down at the forest floor, seeing branches and twigs along with the other debris. Janus slowly made his way around the twigs, making sure that he didn’t step on another. He didn’t like fumbling. He was normally able to avoid these things.

                “Must be the counter-curse.” he thought wearily, truding onward. Then, ahead in a clearing in the forest, was the Nu. The blue creature was busily gathering a cord of wood, the weight of it not affecting him the least. Once in a while, he would make a small noise (“Nu!”), hence the name of his race (or the name given to them). Janus walked up to the Nu, not entirely sure how to persuade this creature, but willing to try nontheless.

                There was another snap of the twigs on the forest floor. Irritated, Janus ignored his weariness and looked on the path, seeing for any debris. There was none. Suddenly a great roar could be heard behind him, and he spun around. It was, at least it looked like, an ogre. A huge one. Advancing toward Janus at a fast pace. Janus acted quickly: he leaped aside as the ogre brought its huge fist into the soft earth where the magus was standing only a second ago. The ogre looked around, growling.

                There were some words in the ancient tounge of magic, and then a spear of flame hurtled toward the ogre, striking it, engulfing the creature in flame. Janus laughed, exhulting in his victory. His cackle of victory changed to a curse, however, when he saw the creature walk out of the flames, untouched.

                “A spell ogre!” said Janus. Of course, he knew what it was. The magic required for summoning a beast such as this was immense. It required knowledge of “Shadow” magic, as well as the ability to harness the creature at your command. Janus smirked. He knew how to deal with such creatures. Retrieving a small, square piece of parchment from his pocket, and his quill pen from another, Janus seemed to study the massive creature of magic before he did anything. Then, apparently satisfied, he quickly but carefully wrote a runic character on the paper, using swift, bold strokes. Holding the paper between his middle and forefinger, Janus uttered a single, but deadly, word.

                “Shin.”

                The paper, the rune etched upon it glowing red, flew from Janus’s hand toward the spell ogre, attaching itself to the creature’s forehead. The ogre gave a roar of anger, then turned into a pile of dust, as did the rune Janus had created. On top of the pile of ashes was another rune etched on paper.

                Janus felt weakened. His vision was blurring, and in it he could see the Nu, who had witnessed the horrifying spectacle without any emotion whatsoever. The last thing he saw was the Nu hobbling up to him before he passed out, exhausted.

 

                “Wake.”

                   Pain. His head was throbbing, and he felt weak all over. He wanted to fall back into the cold, enveloping darkness... but Janus could not ignore that command, and his will to live was strong. He opened his eyes, seeing light from the sun and the canopy of trees that covered most of the top of the forest. And then there was the Nu.

                Janus blinked, confused. “Wha...”

                The Nu spoke, it’s mouth forming words in the strange, almost hollow voice of Nus. “Trouble. There’s more where that came from.” he said, pointing toward the pile of ashes that was once the spell ogre. “Leave. Quickly.”

                Janus struggled to stand, falling to the ground after an unsecessful attempt. The Nu placed one of its thin, rubbery arms on Janus’s shoulder, and with a single tug, lifted Janus off the ground and on his feet. The Nu’s appearence defied its strength. Janus was not suprised as a casual observer would be, but he had clearly not expected anything like this.

                “Go.” the Nu spoke. Janus felt compelled to obey that hollow, unearthly voice, but he then remembered why he had searched for this Nu. His mind was blank on finding a way to compell this Nu to carry out his plan...

 

                “...job is finished.” said the recorded voice of Belthasar, echoing throughout the metal room. “I ask that you let him rest. The switch is located on his stomach....”

 

                Janus blinked. How he had remembered something like that, a memory four years old, was beyond him. But that was beside the point. Janus now knew what he had to do.

                “Leave, or I shall use force.” said the Nu, a note of impatience in his voice. Janus, still weakened but not to the point of swooning, looked down at the Nu.

                What strange creatures, he thought. They have been around since the birth of this planet, yet they seem... otherworldly. And their strength, their life span... almost as if these beings were engineered...

                Quickly, so fast that the Nu had no time to react, Janus brought his fist down where he assumed the creature’s stomach was. He felt a tough object hidden in the folds of blue flesh, which clicked when his fist made contact with it. Almost immediately there was a reaction. The Nu staggered, standing upright but shaking. It opened its mouth, as if in suprise. Suddenly it began to speak. It spoke in a beautiful, melodious language that seemed to come from the Nu itself and not from its vocal chords. Janus stared uncomprehendingly, observing the spectacle.

                Suddenly, the melodius voice stopped, and this time the Nu spoke the common tounge, one that Janus could easily identify with. It spoke in seemingly fragmented sentences, so that one could not entirely understand what it was saying.

                “...incorporation of polarized silicon cells will ensure survival in environmental extremes...” rambled the Nu, not in his hollow voice, but an almost synthetic one. “..guardians...store memor....in subconsious...” the voice continued, punctuated by hissings of static. Then suddenly it looked at Janus directly in his cold, lavender eyes, the ramblings replaced by the Nu’s original voice. “Protect life.” it said. “In all stages...” then it made a garbled noise, the Nu’s beady eyes blinking rapidly. “Awaiting command.”

                Janus laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He knew. He should have known all along. Oh, no one else would understand, of course. Not even if they had Belthasar’s notes on the subject. But Janus... somehow he knew! As if the incoherent sentences were to him, an open book, full of answers to some of the most frequently asked questions in the history of the world...

                “Do you understand my speech?” asked Janus.

                “Affirmative.” answered the Nu, in the synthetic voice.

                Janus placed a gloved hand on the Nu’s shoulder. “You will take this,” he said, handing the Nu the counter-curse written on the parchment. “and you will give it to a man named Glenn, in the year 600 A.D. He can be found in the cursed woods, north of Porre. He is in the form of a species of rana, and should be easy to find. Do you understand?”

                The Nu nodded once. “Affirmative.”

                Janus patted the Nu on the shoulder, smiling. The knowledge poured into him like a stream of gold. Belthasar would be extremely jealous, thought Janus, even he wouldn’t have guessed about...this. “End of Transmission.”  said Janus, rising to his full height. The Nu just blinked, then as if coming to its senses, hobbled away from Janus and went back to its task of gathering firewood. Janus grinned. He no longer felt weak, at least not physically. The sudden epiphony had revealed to him some of the greatest secrets of the known universe, and answered them in full. “Knowledge is power...”

                Janus’s gaze went to the pile of ashes that was once the spell ogre. He walked over there, kicking aside ashes as he picked up the rune that was used to invoke the creature. Janus’s eyes opened wide for a moment. There was one who knows the black arts, and apparently he was trying to dispatch me... Janus thought. Then me unexpectedly laughed his grating laugh, crushing the paper on which the evil rune was written.

                “Fool!’ he shouted. “You wish to challenge me? Bring it on, then! I have ten times the knowledge and power of every wizard on this wretched planet, and fighting me will only bring your destruction!” Janus gasped slightly, feeling again the gnawing presence of the black wind, quietly shrieking in his mind. “Prepare for the void...” he said solemnly. Janus procured an ether from his purple cloak, and drank the mixture until the glass bottle was empty. He felt a surge of energy, greater than an adrenaline rush, greater than a sexual climax, far greater than any power trip or ecstasy ever experienced. It was the power of mana flowing through his veins. Absolute power...

                “Krynau Tsaroth!” said Janus harshly, wrapping his cloak around him, dissapearing into nothingness as the teleportation spell took affect.

                In the shadows of the oak trees, another dark and menacing figure cursed. “So be it. If he wants a fight, then a fight he shall have!” The figure snapped his fingers, uttering a word of magic, then sank into the ground, the only thing visible a fragment of red robes.

 

                It was the seventh day of the seventh month. The meeting of the elders of the Conclave of Wizards was taking place. In a vast, ornately decorated room of the Tower of High Scorcery, three archmagi were sitting down around a round table made of polished wood. A chalice filled with hot tea was in the center of the table, and several goblets were filled with the steaming brew. However, not one of the triumvurate touched their drinks. They had more dire matters at hand.

                “By the Gods, it has been three hours and still he’s not here!” spoke the red-robed elder. “I saw we go on without him.”

                A harsh glare from the elder in white robes silenced the red robed one’s complaints. “Fallagar, we will have this meeting with Magus, and we will not start without him! Is that clear?”

                Fallagar, the elder of Fire magic, growled silently but gave no more complaints. Nimuul, the elder of Lightning magic, was not one to trifle with. The soothing controlatto voice of a female pierced the silence that followed the two Elders’ argument.

                “I, for one, agree with Nimuul. But--if you’ll pardon my language--that Magus is certainly taking his damn time!” Hepsis, elder of Water magic, spoke. Her hair was silver, and flowed down to her waist, and she had eyes as green as the dark patches of a forest. Though at old age, she didn’t look (except for her hair) a day over twenty. Nimuul, on the other hand, had an appearence that matched his age. His hair was long and white, reaching his shoulders. he had an equally white beard, but his eyes were deep blue and youthful. Fallagar was the youngest by five years. He had short red hair that was streaked with gray, and a clean cut brown goatee. His eyes were hazel, angry, and impatient. yet Fallagar did not become an elder by impatience. He knew his limits, as did everyone else.

                Nimuul sighed wearily. “I know Magus is a man of his word. He will be here, you can count on it.”

                Fallagar remained unconvinced. “That pointy-eared bastard better do it quick, then.” he said “Or by the Gods, I’ll--”

                “You’ll what?” came a deep, menacing voice from the front of the room. The elders, suprised, turned swiftly toward the direction of the voice. There, in front of the doors, stood Magus, looking ever-so ominous and threatining in his dark purple cloak. Locks of silvery-blue hair were dangling out of the depths of his hood, and his lavender eyes shined from within the darkness of it. The elders were stunned; only Hepsis was brave enough to be the first one to extend the greetings.

                “Greetings, Magus.” she said. “We are honored by your prescense.” in time, the same phrase was repeated by the other two elders, and they all bowed low in reverence.

                Magus bowed low, returning the elders’ show of respect. “As I am of yours.” he said, with a slight sneer in his voice but not one of disdain. “I believe you mentioned ‘matters of dire urgency and of the utmost importance’ in your invitation, yes? Pray, tell me what troubles all of you so?”

                The Elder triumvurate sat down in their chairs, and Magus sat down in the fourth one brought for him. Nimuul of the white robes was the first to speak.

                “You know what this matter is, Magus. A disturbance, felt diffrently by each individual but felt nontheless. To us, it was like a tremendous loss of life. It is no good omen, and we must look into it.”

                Magus raised an eyebrow. “Why did you request my presence?” he said, although he knew the answer already.

                Nimuul answered immediately, as if anticipating the question. “We represent three of the groups of magic: Fire, Water, Lightning. You are the only magi that has knowledge of Shadow, and we needed you to have present all of the forces of magic, to maintain the Balance.” the other two elders nodded.

                Magus smiled slightly. “I guessed as much.” he said nonchalantly. “Other than this disturbance, has there been anything else like it? Anything at all?” Magus snapped his fingers, and the chalice of tea rose off of the table, pouring its contents into a goblet, which floated toward his hand when it was filled. The chalice lowered itself gently upon the table, and Magus sipped the green tea, the aroma clearing his nostrils.

                Fallagar frowned. “We do not take liking to magi who flaunt their skills, Magus.” he said darkly. “It shames the Conclave.”

                Magus glanced toward the Elder of the red robes. “I might remind you that I am no member of the Conclave, and that you have no power over my actions!” he hissed.

                “Please, stop this nonsense!” spoke Hepsis of the blue robes. “You are bickering like children. Now Magus, you mentioned something about something like the disturbance we felt, is that right?”

                Magus looked toward the silver-locked woman, his respect for her rising another notch. Of all the elders, she seemed the most competent. “Yes, that is what I said.”

                Nimuul rapidly interjected. “Did you feel the disturbance, Magus? I have no doubt that you did, but I wish to know how.”

                Magus shuddered, remembering the chilling effects of the Black Wind. He stared at Nimuul right in the eyes. The elder did not flinch, his sad eyes locked into Magus’s lavender ones. “That is none of your business, Nimuul.” said Magus. “I believe I mentioned something about another disturbance. Now, if we could stop being rudely interrupted,” he said, giving harsh glances to Nimuul and Fallagar. “maybe we might learn something.”

                Fallagar, still angry but willing to help, spoke. “Though I was not an archmagi at the time, I remember the disturbance when Lavos destroyed Zeal Kingdom 4 years ago.” he said. “Just yesterday, we have felt a similar disturbance. Not the same, mind you, but just similar. We do not know if it is Lavos--”

                “Lavos is dead.” stated Magus bluntly. “I, with the help of others, have destroyed him and all of his spawn in this world.”

                “Nevertheless,” said Hepsis in her soothing voice, “we cannot overlook the fact that it is similar to the disturbance that Lavos caused. Maybe it is him, maybe not. The best guess would be another spawn, but then again it could be... something else.”

                Magus smiled to himself. He knew. These fools were on the right track, but they did not know as much as he did. The information absorbed from the Nu (by a process still unknown to Magus) had asserted his fears, and he knew how to deal with them. But he would not just tell the elders. He would explain slowly so that they could grasp the concept firmly.

                “I believe I know that these disturbances portend.” said Magus. The elders all looked toward him with a wary interest. “Allow me to explain...”

 

                “...therfore, we must act quickly, lest the problem gets worse.” Magus said, finishing up his explanation. The triumvurate of elders were all wrestling with the concept. It was not a very common theory, but then again it was not impossible.

                “Are you certain of this, Magus?” asked Fallagar, giving him a wary look. Magus glanced toward the elder, anger in his voice.

                “Yes, I am!” he said harshly. “And if you do not believe me, then go ahead and walk blindly into your destruction!”

                Hepsis fixed Magus with her piercing gaze. “I believe you.” she said. “Out of curiosity, however, I would like to know how you came across this information.”

                “Yes, I too wonder at this strange turn of events.” said Nimuul. “How did you...”

                Magus banged his hands on the table, his lavender eyes burning with anger. “That is not for you to know!” he hissed. “I am not one of your lackeys that answers to you! I do my work alone... and I shall leave if you people don’t stop pestering me!” suddenly Magus clutched his head, screaming.

                Hepsis looked at him with suprise and concern. “Magus! What is wrong?” But Magus could not hear her, nor the pleas of the other elders. The Black Wind stabbed at him like spears of ice, reducing Magus to a tortured shell, writhing and screaming. Fallagar looked at the magi with fear in his eyes. Nimuul, however, got up off of his chair and walked toward Magus. He placed a hand on his feverish forehead, whispering some arcane words. Almost immediately Magus stopped writhing and screaming. Peace settled upon him like a warm blanket, soothing his soul. Nimuul made his way back to his seat, his sad blue eyes scanning Magus. The dark mage sat up, coughing.

                “Water...” he whispered, barely heard. Hepsis helped him stand and directed him toward the nearst communal water bucket. Magus walked out of the door, pausing before he left.

                “Nimuul.” he said, and the old mage looked at him. “Thank you.” and with that, he walked out of the door and down the halls of the Tower, finally reaching the bucket. Once there, he retched, coughing, fighting back the nausea and pain that the Black Wind invoked within him. Janus took hold of the gourd that was used as a cup, and drank three full helpings of the cold water, taking time to breathe haggardly in between drinks. He let out a deep breath, finally feeling at ease. Looking at the water-clock on the wall, Janus saw that it had been thirty minutes since he had left the elders. He frowned, pondering, then shrugged, making his way back to the elders’s room. Once there, however, he was in for a suprise.

                “What the...”

                The polished wood table was split in two. Fallagar was lying in a heap of red robes, his blood spreading across the floor, matching his robes. He had been struck in the back of the head, Magus noted, probably by a force bolt. Pieces of skull and brain matter were splattered on the floor near the dead elder. Nimuul was also blood stained, though he had been hit in the midsection, and was still alive. He was being cradled in Hepsis’s arms while she casted a healing spell, laying her gentle hands on the wound. Magus rushed up to the two remaining elders.

                “What... who did this?” he asked with sincere concern. Hepsis finished her spell, gently laying Nimuul down on the floor, tears in her beautiful green eyes.

                “It was... Justarius...”

                Magus raised his eyebrows. “What? Why would he do a thing like this?” he demanded. “And how did he do it? Last time I recall, he was only an apprentice, recently having passed his Test (by cheating, Magus added to himself). He couldn’t do this, unless...”

                “That is right, Magus!” came a shreiking voice from above. “And you shall meet your doom just like the others!” Justarius fell from above and landed on his feet on the broken table. His robes were stained with the blood of the elders, and lightning crackled in his hands. But he was a Fire mage, and couldn’t control Lightning! Unless...

                Magus narrowed his eyes, sneering at the young mage. “So, you whelp, you have decided to take the dark path, yes? Thinking you can control the magic of Shadow? You have a lot to learn, boy... and I do not take people who send spell ogres after me kindly.”

                Hepsis, tears in her eyes, defiantly rose to meet the young renegade’s gaze. “How could you, Justarius? After we nurtured the gift of magic within you...”

                Justarius growled, waving his hand, knocking Hepsis down on the floor with a gust of wind. “My name is not Justarius anymore!” he screeched, hurling a fireball toward the stone wall where it exploded, raining rocks down on the floor. “Justarius is dead! My name... is Shin!”

                Shin. It was the word used in the most deadly of Shadow magicks, one for spells that involved death. The spell Magus had used to destroy the spell ogre was an example of this, and so was the spell “Black Hole.” Magus looked at the man who had once been Justarius with a look of pure hatred and malice.

                “So be it, Shin.” he spat the mage’s name out with disgust. “However, do not think that you can master the dark arts. They will consume you and tear you apart, and discard your withered husk...”

                “Shut up!” screamed Shin. “Look at you! You are still intact! Don’t give me that load of excrement! You let the darkness consume you! I can handle the powers of darkness! I will let them flow through me... consume me... and be at my command!”

                Hepsis was weeping next to Nimuul’s resting body. Magus spared her a glance, then spoke. “No, Justarius, you are wrong.” he said, using the mage’s real name. “I did not let the darkness consume me. I braved it, and came out intact. I was the darkness’s master, not its puppet, as you are. And I will not suffer the horrifying fate you arte bound for... as a boy who cannot control the powers of darkness, and as a cheater and a failure of the Test!”

                “SHUT UP!!” screamed Shin, hurling lightning at the ceiling. “I don’t care! I will be the master of darkness! I will surpass you, Magus! And I will kill you all!” he said, clapping his hands together, his red robes flapping in the unexpected wind, his hood thrown back, his long black hair swirling. He spoke a few words of magic, punctuated by “Shin” at regular intervals. Then, pointing toward Magus and the two elders, he shouted a single arcane word, a black ball of fire flying toward the three. Magus cursed, then spoke.

                “Ast Sularus Karkonesti!” a wall of blue energy surrounded the three. The black fireball hit the shield, fizzling out on impact. Magus lept up, pointing a finger toward Shin, and a ray of cold air hit the young mage, slamming him into the wall, encasing his arms and fet in ice.

                “You still wear the red robes...” said Magus, his scythe materializing in his hands. “And now, I shall do what the Test should have done to you long ago!” he said, walking toward Shin, the metal of the scythe gleaming.

                Shin chuckled, spitting out blood. “Red robes, yes. I still wear them.” he said ominously. “But not for long!” his hands and feet flared with fire, and the ice binding him to the wall melted away. Shin stood in front of Magus defiantly. “Soon they will be black... as will your corpse when I am finished with it!”

                Magus was undaunted. He grabbed the young mage by the collar of his robes, causing Shin to cry out as his protection spells fizzled out uselessly. Magus grinned, brandishing his scythe. For the first time, Shin looked directly into the eyes of Magus... and saw that he was looking at a demon, a man who had braved the darkness and came out alive, and who was the most powerful mage in the world...

                “I will spare you for now.” said Magus, still grabbing Shin. The young mage almost sighed in relief, his bowels stopping their clenching. “But know this: I know of your plan, of the pact you made for you power.” at this, Shin whimpered softly, but then boldly curled his lip at Magus. “And I assure you.. it shall fail. You will die, and your master’s ultimate plan is in ruin!” he shoved Shin against the wall, spitting on the mage. “Now go! And do not return!” Shin got up to his feet, casting a teleportation spell, the mage’s body dissappearing into nothing.

                Hepsis looked up from where she had been lying. “Why didn’t you.. end his life?” she said. “Why did you spare him?”

                Magus looked at her with compassion. “Because of what the disturbances are. I know that Justar--no, Shin is connected to them somehow, and I need him alive. He will go whimpering back to heal up, then will undoubtedly go to see his master... in that place.”

                Hepsis looked shocked. “That place? Are you sure that you want to follow him there? From what you described, that realm is one where you might not return...”

                Magus silenced her with a glance. “That is a risk that I must take... and I feel that I will not be alone.” he said, looking out a window into the night sky. “Maybe it’s fate... but I will probably see at least a few of... my allies over there. Who knows? It’s not Lavos... but it could be something just as deadly.” Magus stopped, turning toward Hepsis. “I must go now. I must prepare the spell to open the tear in space-time, in order to take me to that place. I have learned it at the same time that I learned of what the disturbances meant... I felt them as the Black Wind, like cold death...” he puased, then continued. “Farewell, Hepsis. Nimuul should be well shortly, though I can not say the same for Fallagar. I am sorry about his loss. He was rash, but made a good elder.” with that, Magus turned toward the window, speakign the words of magic that would teleport hiom back to his home.

                Hepsis watched as he vanished. “Good luck... Janus...” she said when he was gone.

 

                Janus entered his spellcasting chamber, followed by a curious Alfador. He walked toward his desk, scanning the room for anything that might disrupt the spell. He noticed Alfador by his feet, and smiled, picking up the cat.

                “My friend, you must not follow me.” he said, stroking the cat’s lavender fur. “For I go where it could be dangerous for you... and I want you to be safe.” Janus closed his eyes, fighting back tears. “I already lost my home, the gurus, Schala... you are all I have left. Now go, and be safe!” he said, placing the cat outside of the chamber. Alfador gave his friend a sad look, mewed once, and left toward the living room. Janus sighed, shutting the door. Instantly the darkness closed over him, blinding him.

                “Shirak!”

                The room lit up from the ball of light, and Janus prepared to cast another spell, a very powerful one. He held his hands out, palms open, chanting. Blue energies swirled about the room, centering on a spot in front of Janus. Almost like a tear in paper, a gate, a rip in the fabric of space-time, began to tear open more and more, the blue energies keeping it open. When the gate was the size of Janus, he stopped the spell, and the gate stood where it was. He grinned, reveling in his acheivement, preparing for his journey.

                “Dumak.” he said, and the chamber turned dark, illuminated only by the blue portal that was the gate. Janus wrapped his cloak tightly around him, making sure he had brought all that he needed, then proceeded to step into the portal. Before doing so, he noticed the leather-bound book on the desk. He picked it up, admiring it, gazing over the notes he had written over the course of years. He thought back th Zeal Kingdom, to his days as a child, before he had worked with Ozzie and the Mystics, with Flea and Slash, before his journey with his companions...

                “Would I give it all back?” said Janus. “Would I trade all that I have learned... all of the power... to go back to those days, to be carefree again, to Schala, the gurus, to Queen Zeal...” Janus shuddered suddenly, frowning, then chuckled. With a haughty grin, he picked up his quill pen, turning the leather-bound book to the cover, dipping the pen in ink.

                “I, Magus.” he wrote in bold, black calligraphic letters.

                With a swift, bold stroke, he underlined it.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

                The End of Time

 

                There was the swirling blue void again. Strange noises made their way into Ayla’s hearing as she floated in the liquid-like blue of the gate. When she had first encountered gates, four years ago with her other six companions, she had been frightened beyond imagining. However, she soon learned of gates, and magic as well... strange things that these people from the future seemed to have taken for granted. From her experiences, Ayla learned to leave the old, superstitious ways of her tribe behind, and to expect the unexpected. After all, she had not been afraid when the blue creature showed up at Mystic Mountain. In fact, she had thought it was the God of the Hunt, Nu’Khama. Little did she know that the name of the God would be used as a name for the mysterious creatures... even among themselves. Little did she know what they actually were...

                In the distance on the blue void, a black hole could be seen rapidly approaching. Ayla knew what would happen next; the black hole would be the entrance to wherever the gate was leading her to. The End of Time, in this instance. Or, as Ayla referred to it, the “Place That Is Forever.” Ayla braced herself, her fur cloak flapping in the sudden wind. She stared straight ahead as the black hole engulfed her, and it was silent.

                Light. The dull, yet permeating glow of an electric lamp post told Ayla that she had arrived at the right place. A column of light, one not unlike the ones that were there before, seemed to bring her down onto the paved ground like a vacuum, softening her impact as well. Ayla landed feet first, in a crouched position. Giving herself a brief smile for her success, she straightened her posture and looked around. The End of Time. Just as it had been four years ago. But time didn’t pass at all here, did it? The only thing that was different was that the columns of light were no longer there. Even the one that had brought Ayla to the place was gone.

                “Gramps?” she inquired. ‘Gramps’ was how Ayla referred to any of the three gurus. She sniffed the air. There certainly was a trace of Gaspar, but he was not in his regular spot under the lamp post. “Gramps? Where you be?” she asked again, boldly walking into the area lighted by the lamp post. No one was there. The two buckets were still there, and so was the door leading to Spekkio...

                “Damn!” came a harsh yell. Like a cat, Ayla’s ears pricked to the sound. She moved closer to the door, putting her ear against it. She could hear muffled sounds of a conversation or argument taking place:

                “I win!”

                “I demand a rematch, you fiend!”

                “Nope! Remember, it was you who had suggested this...”

                “Prepare yourself! I will strike back!”

                “Suit yourself, geezer. Just let me whip your ass again!”

                Ayla sometimes made the mistake of jumping to conclusions. Through her adventures, she has learned to curb that bad habit considerably. However, in hearing the fragments of the argument, she assumed that ‘Gramps’ was having one of those fights with Spekkio (the ones where Ayla’s friends used magic and she couldn’t do a thing). Determined to finally show what she was made of by catching Spekkio off guard, she tensed every muscle in her tanned, hard-bodied frame, and with a war cry, hurled herself through the door. The door shattered into chunks and wooden fragments as the warrior woman crashed through it, landing in a fighting stance.

                Gaspar and Spekkio were sitting on the ground, with a flat board-looking object in between them. The board showed the map of the world in 600 A.D., complete with international boundaries and labeled cities and the like. On the countries were game pieces of two colors: red and black. As of now, the red game pieces seemed to have more numbers. Spekkio was clearly the “owner” of the red game pieces. If Ayla would have looked a little harder, she would have noticed the box of the game, with “Risk” written on it in big, sans-serif red letters.

                Both of the game players looked at the door in alarm as Ayla had come crashing through it, ready for action. They still stared at her with shocked expressions as she took control of the situation, and rushed up toward Gaspar.

                “Gramps!” she cried out in delight, and before Gaspar could do anything, Ayla had him in a bone-crushing hug. Spekkio watched the spectacle with a grim sort of amusement, whisking away the game pieces and seperating them by color into their own bags, folding the map and putting everything back into the game box. It was several moments before Gaspar could find breath to speak.

                “Wha... Ayla? What--how did you get here?” he managed to stutter inconherently. Ayla slapped him on the back. Hard. She looked down at the old man sprawled on the floor. It was just a friendly pat on the back...

                “Sorry Gramps!” she said cheerfully, helping Gaspar stand up. After an assurance that she would not slap him on the back again, Ayla began to tell her story. Gaspar and Spekkio listened in with interest as she related the events that led her here, showing interest when she mentioned the Nu, and when it said that she should go to the End of Time. Gaspar procured an ancient, wodden pipe as Ayla spoke, taking some tobacco from a tin container and tapping it into the pipe. He lit the tobacco with a match, taking a drag and exhaling a cloud of bluish smoke.

                “Ayla, are you certain of this?” Gaspar asked when Ayla had finished her lengthy explanation. She blinked.

                “Gramps, Ayla not lie!”

                The guru nodded. “Not to worry, I’m not discounting anything, child. It’s just that part about the Nu... it’s hard for me to believe. You see, my dear, Nus are... well, I don’t see how that could have happened! A Nu, opening a gate? There hasn’t been a pillar of light leading to a gate since Lavos was destroyed. But there is one now, and you have appeared suddenly. Hmm...” the old man mused, inhaling from his pipe again. Spekkio then walked up to Ayla, looking like a Kiwala once again.

                “Hey, sweetie!”

                Ayla rolled her eyes, hiding a grin with her hand. “Sweetie? Ayla already have husband!” she feigned anger. The sight of a humiliated Spekkio was enough to make Ayla and Gaspar laugh out loud. The Master of War, however, didn’t seem to see what was so funny.

                “Hmmph! I’ve got better things to do!” he pouted, and began to leave his magic chamber, carrying the strange “Risk” game with him. Gaspar, seeing this, uttered a protest.

                “Hey, no fair! You owe me another game!” he said, waving his pipe dramatically.

                Spekkio took a look back and chuckled. “No way! Remember, I’m THE Master of War!”

 

********************

 

                Unknown Area

 

                There was the sound of a gate opening up, then closing. The blue, swirling vortex ceased to exist as reality made itself clear. There was darkness.

                Lucca opened her eyes wider, in a futile effort to dilate her pupils enough to let her see in the dark. She noticed her glasses lying next to her on the ground (a dirt ground, she noted), and she picked them up, cleaning them the best that she could in the darkness before she put them back on. For a moment, her head was spinning. She did not know where she was, or how she got here, or anything from the past hour. Gradually, as Lucca grasped her situation, she remembered what had happened. Her and Crono and Marle at the bar in Porre. The bard. Her idea to finally fix her Portal Spawner. Corno and Marle in the guest room, in the heat of their passion...

                “Ugh.” Lucca dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand, though the memory still lingered. Her pupils were adjusted to the darkness well enough for her to see now. Her Portal Spawner lay at her feet, the projector-like machine inert. Her house was nowhere to be seen, which meant that the gate had only sucked up the living organisms in the house (with the exception of the Portal Spawner): Crono, Lucca, and Marle. But Crono and Marle were nowhere to be seen...

                A moan, and the rustle of bedsheets was heard. Lucca tensed for a moment, then rolled her eyes. How rude. In my own house, too...

                To her side, a few yards away from her, Lucca could see a tangle of white sheets, out of which a shock of red hair emerged every few moments, followed by an arm (Crono’s, Lucca presumed). The arm groped at empty air for a moment, then went back into the sheets. Then the sheet was swept partially aside, and Marle’s head popped out, her long, orange curls matted to her head in perspiration. At seeing Lucca, she yelped, ducking back beneath the covers. Soon, the beedsheet stood up, revealing Crono and Marle, arms wrapped around each other and around the sheets that were their only means of modesty. Crono nervously laughed.

                “Um... hi Lucca... hehe...” he began, seeing his friend raise an eyebrow, arms folded. Marle was quicker to act.

                “Lucca! Oh, er... I’m sorry...” she said, as she realized that her friend had caught her and Crono in the act of, er...

                Lucca laughed. It was sudden, spontaneous. Suddenly the situation no longer seemed embarrassing to her. It just seemed extremely hilarious. She continued to hysterically laugh as she fell to the ground, clutching her sides.

                “Lucca, are you okay?” asked Marle.

                Lucca took another look at the two before she once again fell to the ground, laughing until tears welled up in her eyes. Crono and Marle blinked, still holding on to each other (and the sheet). Lucca finally began to ease up, sitting cross legged, shoulders heaving from laughter. Marle was the first to speak.

                “Um, Lucca? Where are we?”

                Lucca looked up at Marle, her brow furrowed in confusion. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know.” she said meekly. It was then that Crono noticed the Portal Spawner.

                “Hey Lucca, what’s that thing you got there?”

                Too late Lucca realized that they had spotted it. “This? Oh, um.. nothing! Just something I’ve been tinkering with for a while...” she said, swiftly hiding the machine behind her. Quick-witted Marle knew differently, however.

                “Lucca... that thing made a gate, didn’t it?”

                Lucca slapped her forehead. “Well, guess it’s time you figured out anyway...” she said, standing up, picking up her machine. “The truth is, ever since we beat Lavos and went back to our own times, I... sort of missed our friends. So I started to research gates once again, and I was able to make this nifty little device you see here,” she indicated the Portal Spawner. “and using it, I was able to get some more supplies to modify it to make it keep a gate open longer, and--”

                “And now, it’s made a really big gate and brought us to here, wherever here is.” said Crono. Lucca nodded, smiling.

                “Can you get that thing working again?” asked Marle anxiously. Lucca took a look at the machine, fiddled with a few switches, even opened it up and messed around with the circuitry inside, but to no avail.

                “Nope! Sorry...”

                Crono started looking in the horizon, surveying the now visible landscape; a blasted, scorched, and desolate area. Seeing something in the distance, he pointed.

                “Look! I see some lights a couple of miles ahead!” sure enough, there were groups of lights, dim yet steadfastly brightening the darkness, in the distance. “Let’s check it out!” Crono said, beginning to march in the general direction of the lights, until he noticed the wide-eyed look gicen to him by Lucca and Marle.

                “Oh yeah... forgot about the clothes.” he said, quickly wrapping the sheet around himself again. “I left my clothes in here, though, so they should be somewhere...” he said, ducking inside the sheets, searching. Every now and then Marle let out a giggle as Crono bumped into her, much to Lucca’s disdain. Finally, here emerged triumphantly, holding his clothes in one hand, his boots in the other. He began to dress, still covered in the sheets. Marle, however, had not left her clothing where Crono had.

                “Um, Lucca?” she began. Lucca turned her head toward Marle. “Would you happen to have any spare clothes...?”

                Lucca grinned, fishing through her pack. “Lucky for you I just happened to have a few changes of clothes...” she said, tossing Marle some clothing, still undistinguishable in the darkness. Marle tried catching them, keeping the sheet around her waist and bosom. “They might not be your style, but they should be your size!”

                Marle began to change as Lucca looked again in the direction of the lights. Sure enough, they were stil there, dimly lighting the horizon. She grinned. It looked like it was going to be another adventure, like it or not. She made sure that her handguns, as well as her own specialized gun, were holstered and concealed at various points on her body, then she began walking slowly toward the lights.

                “Don’t worry, I’ll still wait for you!” she called when she reached a short distance away from them, waiting for the two to finish dressing.

                Crono, now dressed, poked his head out of the sheets, Marle’s brassiere stuck in his spiky hair. “We won’t be long!” he yelled, stepping out of the sheets to give Marle more room to change, tossing her the undergarment before he forgot. That done, the three (fully clothed) began the long walk toward what they thought to be civilization.

 

******************

 

                Trann City Spaceport, circa 2304 A.D.

 

                The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains to the east, a bright orange globe that lit up the morning sky. Trann City greeted the sunrise in the same manner it greeted the night: with bustling activity. Hovercars flew across streets while pedestrians walked on the ground unpurturbed by the traffic several yards above them. The metropolitan area was a vast, sprawling complex, dotted in several areas by domed areas and skyscrapers.

                La Guardia Spaceport (that’s a deliberate pun there) was about a few miles south of the metropolitan and suburban areas, a structure almost one third as large as the city itself. The name of the spaceport came from the name of a kingdom that reigned long ago in the past, around where Trann was now. Domestic flights as well as space travel started from here. The complex was composed of several large domes and large runways, the paved roads dotted with lights that made the place glow at night.

                A streamlined military shuttle, bearing the insignia of the Earth Defense Force, was parked in one of the runways, gleaming silver chrome in the morning sunlight. Several hatches were open and being loaded with supplies by mechanical loaders, resembling giant suits of armor, operated by maintennance workers. Some ‘bots were managing to carry some of the more heavy stuff, such as large crates of solid oxygen to be sublimized into gas for breathing. Outside of the shuttle, near the main hatch, a group of people waited.

                Robo stood among the group, overseeing that the transportation of supplies went as planned. He noted in his positronic brain how many materials were called for, if they were in good condition, and if there was a shortage or an increase of supplies. The robot swiveled the top half of his head to check on the other members of the mission, and satisfied, turned back to the task at hand. Though rough looking on the outside, with metal skin like an ancient bronze carapace that was a thousand years old, Robo was one of the most able ‘droids there were on the planet. The reasons for this being that he was three hundred and four years old, since he had shut down during the Day of Lavos, that he had, along with the other Six, destroyed Lavos, and that he understood humans better than any other robot due to his past experiences.

                Finally, the flow of supplies stopped, and Robo knew that everything had been accounted for. A signal from the mission leader, a handsome, ebony-skinned man named Utema, told Robo that he was needed and that the shuttle was fueled and ready for departure. Robo marched up to the man, executing a salute as he stood at attention.

                “Everything accounted for, sir.” Robo’s synthetic voice spoke. “I await your next command.”

                “Very good. Go to the main passenger area and wait there.” said Utema in his deep voice. Robo nodded, making an electronic sound. he stepped up to the automatic ramp, and it caried him up to the hatch of the shuttle. The interior was vast, with computer terminals, monitors, and catwalks that led to several areas. The passenger area was in the center of the ship, just past the bridge. Robo walked across catwalks to the area, his metal feet making loud clomping sounds on the metal catwalks. He arrived at his destination and stood in the empty area for a while. Any other robot would have been able to stand there for an eternity, waiting for new orders. But Robo, of course, was more human. He paced around for a while, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the crew so that they could get the mission underway. The passengers eventually began to enter the vessel. First were three scientists, accompanied later by several rescue technicians. Last to arrive were the marines: rough-cut, rough-trained, and experts at weaponry. None of them carried any weapons at the moment, since S.O.P. didn’t allow that sort of thing unless there was danger. As the various peoples were settling into their cabins in the passenger area, Utema entered the room, and everyone went silent.

                “First of all,” he said, “I want everyone to know that this is a scientific mission, not a military one.” A sharp glance at the marines, which was returned not kindly. “Introductions are in order. I am Utema, the captain of this ship and the mission leader appointed by the joint Trann-Bangor government. This is my ship, the E.D.F. vessel Tengu. I’ll expect everyone to follow my orders while they are on my ship.” he then turned toward Robo. “I’m sure all of you know who this robot is. He was also chosen by the joint Trann-Bangor government, and is my second in command. I’ll expect everyone to--”

                “You never said anything about an android being on board.” came the gruff voice of an Earth Defense Force marine, a tanned-skinned man with a black mohawk. “Why not?”

                Utema leveled the marine with an even gaze. “This is Standard Operating Procedure. We always have a synthetic aboard.”

                “I don’t trust ‘bots...” came the voice of a female marine. “And I never will.”

                Utema grew visibly angry. “I am the mission leader as well as the captain of this ship!” he barked. “I will not tolerate insubordination or mutiny! Now, the android stays! Is that clear?”After a silent minute, a chorus of mumbles “yes’s” came from the group of marines. The scientists were silent, watching Robo in awe. The marines, however, did not. Robo was aware of the prejudice against robots: he had encountered it several times during his lifetime. He did his best to ignore the comments.

                “Well, now that we have that cleared, we can be on our way.” Utema said as he began to exit the passenger area and head for the bridge. “One more question. You all know why we are here, correct?”

                All of the members of the mission grew solemn, nodding.

                Utema gave a single nod of his head. “Good. Enough said.” And with that, he left toward the bridge.

 

                The E.D.F. starship Tengu was fully loaded and ready for lift-off, ahead of it a long, wide strip of asphalt: the runway. Utema was at the bridge, sitting in his rotatable command chair in the center of the room. Several other technicians were at their stations, ready to take off at their captain’s notice. Morning had changed into afternoon, the sun high in the sky.

                “La Guardia to Tengu.” came a voice, punctuated by minor static, over the ship’s radio. “The runway is clear. You may take of when ready.”

                Utema took hold of the intercom speaker, directed the transmission to La Guardia’s nearest control tower. “Roger that, Guardia. We’ll be on our way.” And with that, he cut off the transmission, putting the speaker away. Utema turned toward the plexiglass windshield, directing orders to his crewmen. “Engines are at maximum thrust capability. Begin a ten second countdown and take off on my mark.”

                Technicians began clicking keys on their keyboards, each member assigned to their own unique function, all working in unison. The ship’s computer, using a female voice, began the countdown. Utema silently counted down with it.

                “Ten.”

                In the passenger area, Robo took the oppurtunity to look out of a porthole toward the clear sky. He had never left the planet before, and just being here about to was... exciting. And Robo was not equipped with an emotions chip.

                “Nine.”

                Most of the crew were already strapped down with safety harnesses to special seats, in order to keep them from coming loose and damaging themselves and others. But soem of the marines just sat on their chairs, grinning, awaiting the g-forces that would push them against their seats, and the weightlessness that would arrive before the ship’s artificial gravity kicked in. They laughed, awaiting what they described as “an upward express elevator to hell”.

                “Eight.”

                “Seven.”

                “Six.”

                Robo thought of his friends, and somehow, he felt that he would see them again. Why, he could not explain. Spiky haired Crono and beautiful Marle, strong willed Ayla and chivalrous Glenn, dark and brooding Magus, and then there was Lucca...

                “Five.”

                “Four.”

                “Three.”

                “Two.”

                “One.”

                “Mark,” said Utema.

                The ship’s drives flared to life as the engines kicked in, the Tengu speeding across the runway, gaining speed with every foot it traveled. The passengers of the ship could feel it tilt upward and rise off of the runway, flying up into Earth’s atmosphere, the landing gear securing itself inside the ship. This ship, unlike the older models of previous centuries, was able to exit the atmosphere without help from rocket boosters or the like. Soon, the misty clouds parted, revealing space, dark and silent. The E.D.F. vessel sped out of the Earth like a comet, and after it’s Automatic Coordinate Direction System set the course for where the disturbances were felt, the ship flew away into the distance.

                Nobody ever noticed the short, squat blue creature that had stowed away among the cargo as it was being loaded.

 

******************

 

                Truce village, circa 604 A.D.

 

                Unlike the previous years, when the land had been covered in a dense mist, these days it seemed as if the mist was clearing up. The sun shone brightly through the dense clouds, evaporating dew that had been set there the previous night. Truce village was bustling with activity as usual, since these days there were no Mystic armies to plague them, and the Magus’s former trio of accomplices were long since dead.

                Across Zenan Bridge, a lone figure walked, straight-backed and triumphant. The lone guard stopped to question the man, but blinked in disbelief when the man told him his name. The man just passed by the stunned guard and continued his trek across the bridge.

               

                In four years, plus the events of the downfall of Lavos, a lot of things had changed on the planet. The mist began clearing up, and on the southern continent, around where Cyrus’s grave was, a large tower stood. Since Lavos’s defeat, it had appeared, and had always been there. It was the main tower of the Conclave of Wizards, still alive and strong to this day. Several other towers were dotted across the other continents, each a haven for people born with, or having recently harnessed, the gift of magic. Now, magi were getting a better reputation, and were not feared and loathed as they were before.

                Another thing that had changed--just recently, mind you--was that the knight known as Glenn, friend to Cyrus and cursed with the form of a frog, was human again.

               

                Glenn was now walking across the grassy fields near Truce, in all of his glory. His armor was polished to a brilliant shine, and his sword hung at his side in an ornate scabbard. Ever since he had turned human, after the Nu had brought him the cryptic note, Glenn’s spirits had lifted tremendously. He felt whole again, and his depression had vanished as if it had never existed. The morning after was when he had discovered it, when he had looked down at his hands and saw pink human flesh, not the damp green flesh of an amphibian. He had felt his face, his fingers trailing from his long brown hair down to his chin, covered in the stubble of a beard in progress. And after he had looked in a mirror, and discovered that this was not a dream but actually reality, he had yelped in joy. Glenn decided that he would finally seek solace at Guardia castle, a thing he had been offered numerous times before but had declined. Now, there was no reason to decline any longer.

                Glenn, though at peace with himself, still pondered over the sudden turn of events. He had a good idea who had written the note, and it had to have been powerful magic that had changed his form back to that of a human. But he was skeptic. Why would Magus do a thing like this, he thought. Glenn never did trust the blue-haired mage, and he still didn’t even to this day.

                However, Glenn was full of so much joy of being human that he swept aside all his fears and doubts, at least for a short while. It was time to cast aside his former life of misery and lonliness, and to board in at Guardia and be a true knight of the crown, a defender of the kingdom. No doubt that his majesty and the queen would be suprised and overjoyed, and that he would be accepted by the other knights.

                Clad in his gleaming armor, Glenn was the very image of a hero, and many a person stopped to stare at him in awe as he passed by. Though Glenn was getting all of the attention, he did not lift up his chin in pride. His face was set, serious and with only a slight grin. His back was straight, and he did not left his feet high up or marched. Rather, Glenn just walked quickly with an upright posture, humble as always.

                Guardia forest was just ahead, and the day was still young. Nature seemed to share the joy that Glenn felt that day: the mist around Guardia and Truce was almost gone, leavign the grass wet. Birds chirped and sang their beautiful songs, as if welcoming the hero to the castle that lay just a few miles ahead. The forest entrance seemed a bit wider than usual, as if the very trees were stretching their ancient trunks and branches to let Glenn through. At the foot of the entrance, he stopped, and turned toward the sky, the sky being his pick simply because he could not think of anything more appropriate.

                “Whoever hast done this to me,” he began, his voice the same, if a bit more deep and strong. “I thank thee. Even if it was you, Magus, I thank thee for what you have done. Though nothing can wipe you slate clean of all the misdeeds you hath done, I can at least thank you for what you have done. Wizard, may thee live a long life. Continue to right what you have done wrong. And if it was truly you that did this, I hope that you shall find thy sister at last.” Glenn, finally feeling the start of peace with Magus, walked into Guardia forest. What could possibly go wrong, he thought.

 

                “Never tempt the Gods” was an old saying among the people of this world. And it was, in a sense, a very wise saying. Luck could truly change if one said things as Glenn had been thinking. For good or for bad, it could be either. Though usually it was for bad, and with Glenn it was no exception.

 

                Guardia forest was the same as it had been for a century. The ancient trees, the faint path leading to the castle, the old sign that sat there for countless generations (and would continue to do so for a very long time). Of course, there were always a few monsters that dwelled within the woods, but they were no worry. They were weaklings, and some people didn’t even have to fight them. Plus, there had been a steady decline of monsters following the defeat of Lavos four years ago. All in all, the forest was a safe place for anyone to travel that kept their wits and knew how to defend themselves.

                Glenn could not help but to feel something though, as he entered the woods. Not a sense of danger, mind you, but more of... confusion, as if something had changed. However, it was only a brief feeling, and Glenn, in his joyous state, ignored it. He followed the worn path among the trees, avoiding the spots where the less-than-pleasant creatures usually dwelt as he walked along. Strangely enough, they were not around. Odd. Usually at least an imp or roly would come on charging out of the bushes, but that did not happen. Again, Glenn dismissed his thoughts as he kept following the dirt path toward Guardia castle.

                As he reached the place where the exit was, however, he finally came to his senses. There was no exit over here, though the sign still remained. It was as if the path had never existed, only dense foliage was in its place. Odd. The dirt path continued to weave its way past where the exit of the forest used to be, toward the place where there was a dead end. Only now there was no dead end. Instead, a clearing was there, and it was lighted by the sun, since the trees’ branches apparently weren’t long enough to block it. Glenn’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he did not feel any danger, as he always would whenever there was any nearby. And so he continued down the path, which lead to the clearing. Maybe the soldiers had made a new path to the castle, Glenn thought. Though it wouldn’t really make much sense to make people go the long way...

                The sign that had read, “dead end” was still there. But there was no more dead end. Glenn, though eager to get to Guardia castle, succumbed to his mild curiosity and entered the sunlit clearing. It was not very big, only about the size of a large room, and from the looks of the trees and bushes, it was apparent that the clearing had been created, and was not a natural area. Some of the tree limbs and bushes around the area showed marks of cutting or burning, but the forest floor was narmal, with no ashes or blackened limbs. Glenn, his interest heightened, made his way into the center of the clearing...

                ...and noticed that something was not right. Guardia forest, like every other forest in the world, was full of noise. Whether it be birds chirping, or the droning tse-tse-tse of cicadas, there was always some noise in the forest, where animals and monsters frequented. Only in this clearing, there was not a sound of any animal. All that Glenn could hear was the beating of his own heart, pumping faster as he felt something that he thought he had trained himself not to: fear. Suddenly, it seemed as if the shadows around the trees had grown deeper, and as if he was trapped. Glenn gritted his teeth, even though they chattered as he did so. Slowly, he unsheathed his sword, a steel blade of his own making (the famed Masamune had vanished once Glenn returned to his own time after the destruction of Lavos), and held it out in front of him, just in case.

                There was a noise. Glenn noticed detachedly that it had not just started, or he would certainly have heard it. It seemed as if... as if it had always been there, and that Glenn only just picked it up moments ago. Why had he not heard it earlier?

                It kept on droning, the mysterious voice. Voice? It was as if Glenn only just deciphered the noise, and he felt a mysterious sense of deja-vu. The noise was clearly a voice, that much was certain. However, it did not sound like anything he had ever ehard before, not like anything of this earth. It was haunting and stange.. yet, it sounded melodious, very beautiful, and the combination of fear and beauty permeated Glenn’s very being, and he longed (though his conscience told him to leave quickly) to discover what was making the voice, no matter how much it frightened him. Entranced, the knight slowly walked, following the sound, his sword still at ready if he needed it.

                The voice was in fact coming from a far corner of the clearing, one where the shadows were deep but the sunlight being able to give someone a fair view of what lay within. What was within could not be seen very well, but Glenn stared in suprise.

                The large, rotund, all-headlike body, with its green hair and rubbery arms, could only be one thing that lived on this world. Glenn had seen Nus before, brief views or talks with them and their seemingly low intelligence, but he hadn’t seen them use very much motion. This one was standing at what looked like a computer (Glenn had been to 2300 A.D. and saw enough to confirm this as a fact), an ancient one at that, moss and lichen encrusted, humming softly with energy. The monitor was black, obvoiously not working. Yet the audio speakers worked like a charm, and Glenn could hear the beautiful language issuing out of them, puncuated by a fuzzy, harsh sound (static, though Glenn did not know). The language would randomly stop, and then the real source of the voice could be heard, coming from the Nu that was facing the terminal. Though the blue creature did not move its mouth, Glenn could somehow tell that the voice was coming from him.

                Was it the same Nu that had given him the note only four days ago? Glenn could not tell, all Nus looked alike to him. Hoping for a closer look, Glenn snuck up behind a few bushes, making sure not to make any noise. The computer-like device’s speakers let forth an especially long message in the strange, wonderful language, and after that the machine stopped humming and powered down. The Nu retrieved an object from somewhere on its body, a shiny, metal object, shaped vaguely like a wand with a star at the tip. He pointed it at the machine, and the computer seemed to shimmer with an unknown light, which attained a blinding brightness, and after the light faded away the computer was gone. With that done, the Nu turned to its right, facing the center of the clearing, and pointed the “wand” toward it. It seemed as if a hole was steadily tearing open there, one with a familiar blue, swirling vortex. A gate!

                All through the incredible display, Glenn had been silently watching. Weren’t all the gates permanantly closed after Lavos was destroyed? Glenn had thought that they were, but apparently this Nu was able to open a gate by himself! The creature seemed to use the shiny, metallic wand-like to open the gate. And that wand looked familiar...

                The Nu abruptly spun around, facing the shadows and bushes where Glenn was hiding. Too late the knight realized that in getting a closer look at the “wand”, he had forefitted his position and gave himself away. The Nu, its face devoid of emotion as always (or maybe their expressions read different than ours...), started to hobble toward Glenn’s hiding place. This time Glenn could not control his fear, and he could not understand why a ridiculous creature like a Nu would give him so much fright. He lept out of the bushes, raising his sword in a salute (the knights’ code strictly forbade attacking an enemy unaware), and then charging the blue creature. Glenn was bringing his sword down in a viscious arc, one that would have felled a small tree. The Nu, however, displayed amazing speed and agility as it jumped out of the way of the sword, and grabbed it by the blade, yanking it out of a suprised Glenn’s hands. With a swift motion, never shwoing any emotion on his face, the Nu broke the tempered steel sword in two. The blade fell into the soft earth and embedded itself there, while the hilt was still grasped by the Nu’s rubbery hands, which were not as flimsy as they seemed.

                “By the gods, art thou some daemon?” sputtered a suprised Glenn. He stood up at his full height, which was at least three feet taller than the Nu. However, that did not make him feel stronger, nor did it intimidate the Nu, who just looked at him, pausing only to blink a few times. “Fine then! If it is a battle you want, a battle thou shall have!” The knight faced the Nu, his fists clenched, ready to fight despite the creature’s strength. Instead of attacking, the Nu slowly, un-intimidatingly walked toward Glenn, and held out the broken sword, blade first, to the knight. Glenn took the hilt without thinking, an almost automatic action. He was too stunned at what the creature had done, how he had broken his sword (which was tempered steel, not a very easy thing to break), displayed speed and agility beyond any man or woman, and peacefully handed his broken blade back to him.

                The Nu’s eyes seemed to flutter, and then he lurched involuntarily. When he came to, the Nu spoke the common tongue with the echoing, bland voice of his kind.

                “You are not supposed to be here,” it said. The voice seemed almost... mechanical?

                “Wha... who art thou?” Glenn stammered. The Nu looked toward the gate, still open, the milky blue miasma swirling within. He then looked toward Glenn, making a noise that sounded like an annoyed grumble.

                “Wasn’t as planned... this is unexpected.” the Nu said, as if speaking to itself. With his rubbery arm, he grabbed Glenn by the arm. The knight was taken aback.

                “Unhand me, you foul creature!” he spat angrily. But try as he might, Glenn could not free himself from the Nu’s grip, which displayed an amazing strength, far more than any human. The Nu dragged Glenn toward the gate.

                “Sorry to make things like this,” it said. And before the knight could attempt to break free again, the Nu, with a smooth motion, threw Glenn into the swirling void. He vanished with a scream, piercing the silence of the clearing, and was gone.

                The Nu looked around, as if checking if anyone had noticed the events that just passed. Seeing and sensing nothing, it was satisfied. The Nu fiddled with the wand-like object, which had a few buttons and knobs on it. Putting the object away on some orifice on its body, the Nu calmly walked into the gate, which closed upon itself after he vanished, leaving the clearing silent once more.

 

 

************************

 

                Unknown Area

 

                The swirling blue tunnel which was the gate was coming to an end. In the distance, Janus could see a black hole, growing larger every second: the exit of the gate. Where it would take him, Janus was not 100% certain, though he did have an idea. The information that he had somehow atained from a Nu had some vague spots. All he knew was that where he was going, THEY would be somehow involved. Not the former Justarius and the puppet master that controlled him, but the real enemy...

                The black hole engulfed Janus’s vision, and he knew that the gate would be opening to the area where he was headed. He knew that he would see at least some of his former companions again... whether it be fate or some other force that was drawing them together again, he did not know. There were some things that he still had to find out for himself.

                Electricity crackling. Janus fell out of the gate as it opened up on his destination, landing feet first on what felt like solid ground (paved road? more harder and smoother than cobblestones...). It was dark, and Janus’s eyes had to get adjusted to it after the bright blue void of the gate. He could tell that there were puddles of what smelled like dirty water on various spots on the ground, and that he was in an alley. The smell of garbage and of other things that his sense of smell could not identify hung in the air, almost oppressive, but he got used to them after a few minutes. There was sound, too. The sound of thousands of people milling about, minding their own businesses. The sound of a city. I’m not suprised, thought Janus, that THEY would choose a place such as this...

                When his eyes were adjusted, Janus could see more. The sky was dark, filled with stars. His prior information from the Nu told Janus that this place was in a state of perpetual night, how it was kept like that he did not know. Magic? That was always a possibility. Technology? Hmm...

                Janus slowly walked out of the alley, into the bustle of the city. Hundreds of people milled about the streets. Some of them were dressed in ancient clothes, robes, leather clothing and such , some in clothing that he was not familiar with. There were vehicles he had recognized as automobiles (Janus had been to the future with the Six companions before), and the buildings were tall and in a state of decay. Urban decay.

                Janus wrapped his cloak around his frame, clutching Schala’s amulet with a gloved hand. He was not used to places so heavily populated, being a loner himself. He was not frightened, just uneasy and nervous. He walked along, trying to blend in with the crowd. He soon discovered that the crowd involuntarily pushed him along, to places where he did not know. He ended up finding a fairly empty street which he greatfully made his way to, glad to be out of the confusion of the crowd. The first thing he needed to do was to get aquainted with this place, to learn the ways of the various peoples, and to investigate more into the matter of the enemy... and if he ever ran into Justarius, or “Shin”, again, he would show that simpleton what true power really was...

                There was the sound of leather boots walking through the puddles of water on the street. Janus steped back against the wall of the alley, facing deeper into the alley, where the sound came from. A group of peopel were advancing toward him. Some were dressed in rags, some wore those blue pants and jackets made of black material. Apparently, there was no leader of these people. One of them, a youth that wore blue pants and a black jacket, stepped up to what he saw as easy prey, just another of the few “pointy-ears” that inhabited this cursed area as well. Magus said nothing, only scowled beneath the shadows.

                “Hevar,” began the kid, in a tongue that Magus could not yet decipher. “Kamali no hanara.” After a second, he began to chuckle, and gained anough bravado to reach out and shove Magus back into the wall. A chorus of hoots and jeers followed. Then, Magus lept out of the shadows, balling his hand into a fist, and throwing a punch square into the boy’s face. There was a crack, and the boy staggered back, blood dripping from his nose.

                “Gashak!” yelled the boy, obviously some person of importance, if not their leader. He wiped his nose with one hand, and in the other held something not visible to Magus. There was a snick, and suddenly a long, thin knife blade seemingly popped out of the boy’s hand. Several more snicks were heard, and all of the ruffians were soon armed with sharp blades as well. They all advanced slowly, menacingly, toward Magus. He grinned slightly.

                “Well, if it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you’ll get.” he said, tossing aside his cloak, tightening his leather gloves. “Which one of you will be the first to die?” In one hand, his scythe materialized, and in the other, blue lightning crackled. Magus laughed, a harsh, mocking sound, echoing throughout the alley. Then, they struck.

 

 

************************

 

                The End of Time

 

                Gaspar had put away his pipe now, but he wished that he had it with him right now. But Ayla was there, explaining him once again exactly what had happened and how she had gotten here. It would be rude of him to leave her to get his pipe. He sighed, listening to her once again.

                “...it was Nu’Khama, Gramps! I not lie!” said Ayla, exasperated. Gaspar tried out his most patient voice, one that he would use when addressing a child.

                “Nu’Khama? I am afraid that I still do not understand, Ayla.”

                Ayla seethed, growling softly. Though she had patience as well, it was not as well honed as Gaspar’s. “Nu’Khama. Big, fat body. All head. Small eyes, big mouth. Color blue and hair color green. Understand, Gramps?” she said, her hands on her hips.

                “Ah, a Nu. Yes, I understand, my child. And this Nu, he spoke to you?”

                Ayla nodded. “Yes. Talk without moving mouth. Tell me trouble brewing, even after no more Lavos. Then he say go to this place, wait for others here. Then he use stuff like Lucca have long time ago to open gate, then--”

                Gaspar raised an eyebrow. “Wait, wait! ‘Stuff like Lucca have’? You mean a gate key?”

                Ayla growled. “Yes! No more interrupt, or Ayla, head go boom!”

                Gaspar raised his hands. “Alright, I’m sorry. Please, go on.”

                She continued. “And he say to wait for others here, and then I go into gate but Nu’Khama stay behind, to look over Ioka and Laruba. And that all that happened.”

                Gaspar was still in a semi-state of shock after seeing Ayla suddenly appear here. He muttered something incoherent, getting up from where he sat. The first thing that he did was retrieve his pipe and his tobacco box, filling the pipe then lighting it with a match, inhaling and exhaling clouds of blue smoke. He was just beginning to lie back against the lampost, his favorite spot, when suddenly the wooden door that led to the area where the pillars of light used to be was swung open, making a loud crashing sound when it shut, causing Gaspar to drop his pipe. He muttered agnrily, picking it back up, relieved that the contents of the pipe had not spilled out everywhere. It turned out that it was Spekkio that had burst through the door, and he began to hastily explain why.

                “Gaspar! Look, there’s another pillar of light!”

                The old guru turned his head toward the Master of War. “Are you certain?”                 Spekkio nodded, motioning for him to come. Ayla got up from where she was sitting and followed along as well, much to the delight of Spekkio.

                “Well, hello, my sexy little cavegirl. Come to join us?” he said. Ayla rolled her eyes and grabbed the Kiwala-like creature by the head, picking him up as if he were a sack of feathers.

                “Spekkio,” she said, still holding the Master of War by the head. “You pervert.” she then threw him about ten feet ahead of her. He let out a little squeak as he hit the ground, wincing.

                “Okay! I’m sorry! Gods, you’re a tough woman!” he said, getting up and dusting himself off. He then proceeded to open the door leading to the light pillar chamber, and sure enough, there was a solitary pillar there, shining brightly.

                Gaspar stroked his chin. “Hmm? A bit larger than the other pillars, I would say. I wonder where it leads to...”

                Ayla walked up to it, wrapping her fur cloak around her. She studied the pillar thoughtfully, thinking about what the Nu had said, weighing that against her other idea. Smiling, she arrived at a conclusion.

                “Gramps, I go into light.”

                Gaspar hurriedly protested. “But Ayla, weren’t... you told to stay here and wait for your friends?” Ayla remained adamant, however.

                “I figure out. Not wait for friends, wait for way to find friends! And now, way to friends is here, I go in!” She shouldered her war club, turning her head around. “You sure you not know what going on?”

                Gaspar shook his head. “Child, I knew nothing until you came here. Frankly, this seems a bit strange to me. I think I would notice if there were some ‘trouble’ as your Nu friend put it. But this is your choice. Are you willing to go in the pillar? I don’t know where it will take you...”

                Ayla winked. “Gramps, I sure. Now I must go.” she lowered the hand that held her club, pausing once more to speak. “Spekkio! Take care of Gramps, ok?”

                The Master of War nodded, not willing to face her wrath again.

                The warrior woman gave the two a thumbs up. “I be back! See friends, fix trouble! No big task!” Ayla hopped into the pillar of light, uttering a “Goodbye!” as she vanished, her destination unknown.

                Gaspar and Spekkio stood silent for a few minutes, pondering upon the strange turn of events. The old guru was sure that he had not felt anything that might seem like trouble, like Lavos. But then again, isolated in this area, there were some things that he could not feel, events taking place that he did not know about, and would know only if it started to disturb the space-time continum...

                “You think she was serious, old man?” came Spekkio’s voice. “Is there really big trouble, worse than Lavos?”

                Gaspar lit his pipe again, blowing a single smoke ring that floated up into the distance. “Let us hope not,” he said, turning to walk back to the lamp post. Once there, he leaned against it, looking toward the “sky” (if there was such a thing in the End of Time). To himself, unheard by Spekkio, he spoke again. “Let us hope not...”

 

Thus, the events are set.

The Seven companions find themselves converging together once more.

Fate, coincidence, the Gods... call it whatever you like.

Only one thing is certain.

This will be truly a period of Dangerous Times...

 

 

To Be Continued