"McCaila! Look out!"
The little violet-scaled dragon whelp never bothered to look over
her shoulder at her attacker. She simply executed a perfect front-flip,
more like a roll, away from the spear thrust at her back. The
spear's owner, a creature that looked only a little bit more
human than the dragons his companions and he were trying to kill,
sneered, "Do not resist, evil creature, and I, Guardian Garr,
will make your death quick and painless."
"No!" McCaila cried, as a different Guardian murdered
yet another of her race. She looked at the carnage around her,
and felt something inside her mind snap. "You bastards,"
she growled through her teeth at Garr. Knowing that simple fire-breathing
wouldn't do anything to him, she called on the power entrusted to
her by their Elder, Jono, with his dying breath--the power of 'Infinity.'
She felt her body growing taller, her limbs longer, and her face
smaller as she called on the aid of the great power. McCaila
looked at her front claws a moment. She realized in shock that
they were human hands. She had attained a human form! I'm
human! Now I can summon Kaiser! she thought, almost wild
with power.
Garr, the Guardian who'd tried to kill her first, recoiled in
horror from the young girl, now human. "How did you acquire
the power of 'Infinity'?!" he demanded. Garr took in the
sight of the young woman standing before him in yellow-gold
battle attire with green trim around the short-sleeved cuffs and
pants legs. A sword was strapped to her right hip, suggesting
left-handedness. She unsheathed the large weapon and held it at
the ready.
When she next spoke, even she did not recognize her voice. "You
will all die, servants of the accursed Myria." Her voice was
devoid of its reptilian scratchiness. The sword, when she raised
it, seemed to melt into the air, to be replaced by a glowing ball
of energy between her hands. The glow increased, and still she
held the energy. Finally, when she could no longer contain it,
she released the energy all at once. "Kaiser Breath!"
she exclaimed. A couple of her people gasped in horror, realizing
that she was making a horrible mistake.
The energy drew its strength from McCaila, making her feel as if
her soul were being ripped from her body. She threw her head back
and uttered a blood-curdling scream, power swirling through her
bloodstream, setting her veins afire in a haze of pain and
confusion. She began floating in the air, then began glowing, a
white aura surrounding her body. The white aura encased her in an
orb of energy, then from out of the aura, almost as if it had
formed from her own body, came an image. It was roughly shaped
like a reptile, and it was huge. Then the light focused, and it
turned three-dimensional, revealing--
"Kaiser!" everyone exclaimed. The dragon that appeared
before them dwarfed them all in size. He was green-blue with
fiery red and orange wings fluttering in the air. The dragon
arched his great neck backwards, and the energy sphere was
absorbed into its body. Then he flew upwards again, as if to
leave, but began hovering over the battle site.
Garr knew the dragon well. "We must depart, my brothers; it
is dangerous here. Kaiser could destroy us all, and I do not
think that the young whelp can control him. Gatz, Gaw, Gaist, we
must leave quickly."
The others knew he was right, and withdrew from battle. Garr and
Gaist led the procession of Guardians out of the caves. They were
also the only Guardians to make it out of the catacombs.
Kaiser arched his neck back again to breath his deadly fire. His
breath hit the ground explosively--like a bomb. Then, he flew
away from the site, McCaila's energy still fused with his. The
last thing she heard was the screams of Brood and Guardians alike
as Kaiser's fiery breath doomed them all to die in the caves that
had been the home of the Brood for centuries.
Damn it--all . . . my fault . . . all of it . . . . I'm sorry,
Jono. I failed . . . . She began losing consciousness and
losing her soul to what she hoped was death. It didn't feel like
death, though; it felt more like she was going into a coma. This
. . . is the price . . . for letting myself get carried away with
power. I . . . hope I will do some good in . . . my . . .
afterlife . . . .
Forty-Seven Years Later . . .
A dragon? the man thought sarcastically as he walked
into the shaft of the mine. The miners claim a dragon resides
here? I do not believe it. He smiled a half-smile, sort of a
smirk, and shook his head, causing his long, silver hair to sway
from side to side down the back of the long, black trench coat he
wore. How amusing. The man dressed all in black, from
the trench coat to his tight black leggings and tall, knee-length
leather boots. His eyes, fairly glowing with their emerald green
coloring, examined the mine shaft carefully.
He thought back to what he knew about the situation. Shin-Ra had
discovered a new form of energy, chrysm, and had begun to exploit
the many uses of this versatile material. However, while
attempting to excavate another mining shaft with dynamite, the
miners unwittingly released a dragon from its chrysm encasement.
The dragon killed several miners, creating hysteria. This
triggered a mass exodus, eliminating the need to evacuate the
mines. Shin-Ra sent some of the best fighters from SOLDIER to
bring the dragon under control so that the miners could get back
to work. Not one man came out. There was no other recourse but to
send the High General Sephiroth to get rid of it. "Dragon--hmph!"
he muttered to himself as he searched the mine.
All of a sudden, he heard a munching sound, and stopped walking
immediately. He quietly followed the sound amidst piles of chrysm
and rubble, making sure that his boots didn't make a sound on the
carved-out ground. Sephiroth looked around a large boulder from
behind which the sounds seemed to come, and received the shock of
his life. There, standing in all its glory, was a winged, lizard-like
creature about waist-high to him, eating an unidentified piece of
meat.
Holy Gods! Sephiroth thought, it is a
dragon!
He looked around where the dragon stood with its violet and lilac-scaled
back to him and saw the scorched bodies of the members of SOLDIER
that had been send to get rid of the dragon before him. Their
weapons lay either melted, broken, or both, and all lay scattered
about in piles close to the bodies.
The dragon suddenly dropped what it had been eating and sniffed
the air. It turned quickly, and Sephiroth was startled to meet
with a pair of burning, ice-blue eyes, white with anger around
the slit-like pupils. The dragon took a deep breath, and
Sephiroth knew what was coming.
As the dragon's cavernous mouth opened, Sephiroth threw himself
to the ground to avoid the same fate as his subordinates. A blast
of hot, rancid air ripped across his back, and he shivered,
because of Death's proximity. Looking up, he realized that the
dragon's eyes were closed as it breathed the fire that had been
the end of so many men. Now is my only chance, he
thought. I must strike while it cannot see me. He rolled
closer to the dragon and impaled the dragon with his six-foot
sword, the Masamune, burying his weapon in the dragon's soft
underbelly.
The dragon reared up, roaring in anger and pain, then turned,
slapping Sephiroth away with its powerful tail. The sword came
out with the volatile movement, and the dragon limped into a side
tunnel. He let it go, thinking it would die soon, when he heard a
feminine scream from the tunnel the dragon had just entered. But
. . . I thought everyone had gotten out of the mine . . . .
He tore into the tunnel, Masamune drawn and ready to strike.
Inside the tunnel, he saw no trace of the dragon, save for the
blood. The red-black drops of dragon's blood led somewhere. He
followed them to--
H-Holy . . . ! A young woman of indeterminate age was
curled into the fetal position on the ground, her violet hair
spilled across the rock like grape juice from a broken pitcher
across a marble floor. Her positioning proved to be advantageous
for her, and for Sephiroth, for she lay naked as a newborn babe.
She was not moving, so he assumed she'd been killed by the dragon.
Curiously, the trail of blood wrenched from the dragon by
Sephiroth's sword ended abruptly at the woman's still form.
All of a sudden, she moved, struggling into a sitting position,
still facing the rock wall of the mine shaft. Sephiroth realized
then that she wasn't dead. Hugging her knees to her chest, she
sat on the cold, rocky ground, trembling in pain, the only sounds
passing her lips groans. Sephiroth saw why: a trail of crimson
blood, her blood, dripped slowly down the pale skin of her left
side. The dragon must have attacked her, he thought. But,
where is it now?
To his right, he saw several large pieces of chrysm. It looked
like a statue that had been pushed over. He analyzed their
combined shapes. When combined, the pieces would form a vaguely
reptilian shape. Did the dragon die and turn into chrysm
after attacking this girl? So, chrysm is the fossilized bodies of
dead dragons. His thoughts rambled, as he was actually
concentrating on the girl and wondering why she was nude and what
he sould do about it.
He felt strange looking at her, watching her tremble in pain and
fear. Something primal inside him told him to run, but as a
military man, he couldn't leave a wounded civilian on a
battlefield, no matter what the situation. I certainly cannot
carry her outside in her . . . present state in broad daylight.
There is only one thing I can do, he realized. He removed
his black trench coat, revealing his bare shoulders, and wrapped
the coat snugly around the woman's body.
When he did, she looked up at him, seeing him for the first time.
Her eyes were a cool blue color, like ice, almost like the dragon's
he'd fought. Why the dragon's memory would resurrect itself in
his mind was beyond him. He lifted the woman, wrapped in his coat,
and carried her out og the mine. The foreman was waiting for him
outside the shaft.
"Hello, General," the burly man boomed. "Did you
take care of the dragon?" The man spat to one side, a habit
Sephiroth had always found repulsive, but seemed to be prevalent
among working men. He had to fight to keep the disgusted look off
his face.
"Yes, I took care of it," he replied, wishing to be
free of the man's company as soon as he could. "Now, if you
will excuse me . . ."
The foreman noticed the young woman in Sephiroth's arms. "Who
might that young lady be?"
Sephiroth shook his head. "I do not know. I found her in the
mine shaft. It appears that the dragon attacked her." He
stopped a moment. "She is not one of your miners?"
"Ha! That's a hoot, Gen'ral. We don't employ a lot'a women
here. They just ain't strong enough," the foreman replied.
"You thought she was one'a us that didn't get out in time,
right?"
"Yes, that was my theory," Sephiroth acknowledged.
"She must have just entered the mine at the wrong time, then.
She is hurt very badly. Do you know her name?"
"But . . . ," the foreman protested, "I didn't see
anyone enter besides my men. She couldn'ta got in 'ere. There's a
fingerprint reader right dere." He pointed to a device on
the outside of the door. "The only reason it was open for
you is because someone hit the 'Panic' button. It automatically
unlocks everything when somebody hits it."
"If she isn't a miner, then how did she get inside the mine
without being noticed?" Sepiroth inquired, truly baffled.
"I really don't know," the foreman replied, "but
thanks awfully, Gen'ral." He continued, "That dragon,
he went around breathing fire on the miners that didn't get out.
Killed some of my best employees. Probably killed that troop from
SOLDIER, too."
The girl looked at the foreman in disbelief. She shook her head,
then bit her lip and turned her head away from the burly man's
gaze. "What's with her?" he questioned, raising an
eyebrow.
"I do not know," Sephiroth replied. "Right now, I
must take her to a hospital or somewhere wheere she can receive
medical help. The dragon attacked her, and she is wounded."
"Yes, Sir," the foreman said. "Well, if you're
ever out this way again, drop in and say hello, ya hear?"
The foreman spat again, and Sephiroth shook his head in sharp
disapproval as he left the mining area.
These men are so uncouth. Spitting . . . .
The girl looked up at Sephiroth as he left the mining area,
giving him a puzzled glance. "Do you know what happened to
you?" he asked. She shook her head slowly. "What is
your name?" he inquired. She didn't answer, just leaned her
head to the left, against his bare chest. Her eyes were pinched
shut, as if she was in pain, and when she shifted in his arms,
she tried unsuccessfully to stifle an agonized groan. That is
odd, he thought. I know she is not mute, yet she speaks
no recognizable language. Could it be, perhaps, that she is
afraid of me, like so many others? Or perhaps she does not
understand the language. No, when I spoke, she responded. Perhaps
she . . . lacks the skills to form words.
It was a preposterous explanation, but the most plausbile one
under the circumstances. He knew that, had she been afraid of him,
she would not have leaned against him like she'd done a moment
ago. She wouldn't have let him take her out of the mine, either. Then
that is the only explanation for her refusal to speak, Sephiroth
thought. It is just as well. I feel so uncomfortable talking
to people, anyway. I have no idea why I would encourage something
I usually try to avoid.
* * *
Unfortunately, nightfall found them still trying to make their
way to somewhere safe. Sephiroth had no choice but to stop,
because the violet-haired girl was losing a lot of blood, and if
he didn't see to her wound, she might contract an infection and
die. Besides that, she needed to rest. Also, though he could
fight off any attackers, he had not set her down all that day,
and was a little tired, too.
For just such an emergency, he'd brought a large tent. The girl
watched Sephiroth, curious, as she ate a little of the food he'd
given her and he set up the tent. He noticed her watching him,
but continued his task. After he was done, he turned to her and
said, "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head. He walked over to the where she sat on the
ground beside the fire he'd started to serve the dual purposes of
keeping them warm and scaring off animals. Sephiroth had brought
a first-aid kit in case of any injuries the dragon might deal him.
Fortunately, all he'd suffered was singed hair. The girl had not
been so lucky. He knelt down beside her with the first-aid kit at
his side. "Let me see that wound," Sephiroth
requisitioned. She complied, allowing him to draw back the side
of the coat he'd wrapped around her enough to tend to the injury.
He took an antiseptic from the kit and soaked a small cloth with
the liquid. He looked up and saw her curious expression, as if
she'd never seen the stuff before. "This is antiseptic,"
he told her. She continued to look puzzled. "It is used for
cleaning wounds such as yours," he explained further. She
seemed to finally understand, and nodded her head.
Sephiroth began dabbing lightly at the wound with the antiseptic-soaked
cloth. She drew in a quick breath, bit her bottom lips in pain,
and jerked away. He stopped, looked her straight in the eyes, and
replied, "I apologize, but this must be done. If this wound
sets up infection, it could be fatal."
She covered his hand lightly with her own and smiled slightly, as
if to say she understood. It's all right, she seemed to be saying,
her eyes forming the words that her lips couldn't. Sephiroth
looked nervously away from her probing, soulful gaze. It is
as if she can read my mind, he thought, unnerved.
There was one thing that bothered him as he continued his task of
cleaning her wound, glad that she wasn't crying or shrieking in
pain. The wound that the dragon had supposedly dealt her was in
the exact same place that the wound he'd dealt the dragon would
be--under her left arm. He quickly derailed that train of thought,
Stop that! What are you saying, that she is the
dragon? In the back of his mind, however, he couldn't shake
the suspicion that she knew more about the dragon than she was
letting on.
He finished cleaning her wound, then took out a roll of bandages.
Her reaction to seeing them was the same as her reaction to
seeing the antiseptic. "They also help with the healing of
wounds," Sephiroth replied, by way of an explanation. I
wonder where she hails from, never to have seen antiseptic or
bandages before, he thought. He placed a bandage on her
wound, then used the medical tape he'd brought to hold the
bandage to the wound. When he was finished, the quickly wrapped
the coat around her again to keep her warm, not certain why his
heartbeat was running away with him. No doubt it is because I
have been carrying her in my arms so long, he thought to
himself. I cannot think of any other reason. When he got
to his feet, he motioned towards the tent. "Would you like
to rest a little while?"
She nodded, then stood up, holding the coat closed, as she'd
noticed that when he could see her body through the coat, he
tended to act strange. I wonder if all the people from where
he is are like this she pondered. Maybe I should ask him.
But should I let him know that I can speak his language? Wouldn't
it be better to stay as far away from him as I could? She
knew she had to make an effort to speak. After all, if he hadn't
taken her out of the mine, she would've bled to death. It's
lucky my parents insisted that I learn this silly-sounding
language. "Hello," she said aloud.
Sephiroth looked up in surprise. "I did not think you could
speak. Do you know how?"
"Yes," she said, getting used to the strange language.
The mother tongue of these people was so unfamiliar to her, only
read and studied in books of ancient times, yet she felt as if
she'd spoken it at one time.
"What is your name?" Sephiroth queried.
"I'm not sure how to say it in your language. I think it's
Mc . . . McCaila," she replied, now settled into the
language well.
"McCaila," he repeated. "Now I have a name by
which to call you. Would you like to rest, McCaila?"
"Yes," she replied, "Wait. What's your name?"
He looked at her strangely for a moment, as if she expected her
to recognize him. "My name is Sephiroth. I am a general in
the Shin-Ra army."
She nodded, then replied, "Yes, I know about your rank,
General, I could understand what the foreman of the mine was
saying. And thank you very much for bringing me out of that mine
shaft." She walked past him, smiled, and crawled into the
tent. He got in after she did, and laid down on his side to sleep.
She simply sat as she had been sitting all along, her elbows on
her knees, which were drawn up in front of her. Sephiroth propped
his head up on one hand.
"Are you going to lie down?" he inquired.
She looked back at him, smiling slightly. He looks so sure
like that, she thought. "Yes, I probably should get
some rest." With that, she laid down beside him, facing him,
and curled up, much the same way he'd found her in the mine. She
smiled contentedly, then drifted off.