Remnant Pages Spearhead

by J. B. Kleynhans

  The two of them alone again, Elmira looked up at Cid, her mouth stretched.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Cid… I can’t stomach this. I made peace with you being in danger all the time, but now it's different. Everyone is talking about how strong the Fallen are and that Lanston is betrayed and leaderless… I don’t want you to go tomorrow,’ finished Elmira.

  ‘Elmira…’

  ‘I know what you’re going to do. I know you have to go out. I love for you for being the way you are… and I know it’s important, fighting for our home, it’s just…’

  He stood closer, holding her. ‘I still have to fight for you remember? And it’s even bigger than that, thousands of Lanston lives have a stake in tomorrow. Not to sound vain, but they will need me.’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly.

  ‘Hey, I’ve even got Brunick praying for me these days, it’ll be all over soon and then we’ll never have to look back on anything. We’ll be happy together.’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

  Later on they joined everyone by the fire, their talk trying to be careless, but somehow always led back to the impending battle. When it did, everyone grew quiet for a while to shake off the topic, and when that happened all of them recalled a dying Summoner, his last moments the most dramatic this valley had ever seen.

  Oldeloft was dimly lit on the inside, an array of lanterns and candles in each room. By midnight Cid was up for the third time. He found himself wandering through the house back to the storage where they kept their packs, gear and weapons. Along the way he picked up an extra lantern. Inside the tightly crammed room he quickly made his way to Mindevhier, laid down on a table.

  As ever it was a prideful sight by firelight, but tonight it inspired a chill into Cid.

  Each time he had tried to sleep a dream came to him. It was dreams of voices of strangers and images that meant nothing to Cid, yet called to him. He ran his hand along the spear’s shaft, again feeling as though something was stirring within the weapon. Cid had the sudden urge to reacquaint himself with the spear - to tame it, picking it up and taking the lantern with him. He left the house.

  Alex tip-toed, prowling the house. He couldn’t find her. He had woken up seeing Vanapha leaving her room and then got up when he didn’t see her come back. He thought she had gone into the storage room but did not find her there. He exited the house, searching for a sign of her in the darkness of the mountain. He was surprised to see Cid at the house front, practicing in the light of a lantern he hung from the dead tree. Not wanting to bother the man, Alex decided to retreat to his bed again.

  Then he saw the chimney, the smaller one, puffing light hints of vapour into the air, the smoke and moist only just revealed by the moonlight. Confused, Alex went back into the house. Even though knowing better his sleepiness made him check the fireplace in the lounge, which he found untouched as he knew it would be connected with the bigger chimney.

  Calling on something he had seen earlier he returned to the storeroom. There it was, a solid iron pipeline extending from the ceiling and not stopping as it ran right into the floor. Curious now Alex stamped his feet as quietly as he could. He moved three paces before the thump of his foot hit a hollow space. Only then did he notice the trapdoor, its outline barely visible against the backdrop. Carefully he lifted the trapdoor.

  She’s in here?

  He knew the basement would be a hiding spot for the Rangers, but the chimney already gave Alex an indication of what Vanapha would be doing here.

  Alert now he walked buck-kneed down the uncomfortably narrow steps. The enclosure welcomed him with a haze of vapours, most of it mercifully using the ventilation shaft to escape the house.

  He immediately saw Vanapha, her back turned on him, her hands tweaking and prodding at an elaborate setup of vials, beakers, burners, drips, distillers and clamps holding everything in place. Alex had seen similar instruments in alchemist shops, but it was a strange change to seeing a woman working with the instruments rather than a sweaty old man with a singed beard.

  He walked closer and before saying something he watched her intently. She was wearing goggles and a thick apron with matching gloves. She seemed to work mainly out of a big cauldron, feeding everything else with its bubbling substance, like she was actually busy cooking. The strong smell and small belch of fire that came from the pot however was instantly enough for anyone to know she wasn’t busy preparing a soup.

  ‘How did you find me?’ asked Vanapha, without turning.

  ‘I heard you going into the storeroom and you didn’t come back. I got curious.’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep?’ asked Alex, rounding the table to stand opposite of Vanapha and watch her work.

  ‘Do you think anyone is sleeping? With Lidayel gone and Lanston certain to die without us? It weighs heavily on everyone.’

  ‘I guess this mean you’re fighting with us tomorrow?’ asked Alex.

  I have my own reasons for helping, but… it wouldn’t feel right if you stayed to fight and I did nothing to help. It is not my fight, but I have taken it upon myself to play my part. The Kingdom will leave this land better off in victory and if it needs my skill then I can do nothing less than stand with Lanston.’

  Alex nodded, commending the woman in his thoughts. Rather he said, ‘What is all this then?’

  ‘I’m making Trisera, a fire potion,’ said Vanapha, returning to her work.

  ‘Do you want to be alone?’

  Vanapha looked up at Alex. ‘No, its fine. I can actually use some more clamps,’

  ‘Clamps?’ asked Alex in confusion, looking at the counters around him.

  Vanapha pointed at his hands.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Alex, standing closer.

  ‘Goggles and gloves,’ advised Vanapha, pointing. Alex didn’t need to be asked twice.

  ‘There are some clamps but they are pretty rustic and I’d rather not take the chance with this mixture,’ said Vanapha,

  ‘Sure,’ said Alex holding up the small vials as Vanapha used a suction nozzle to incrementally fill them up with a lively orange liquid.

  As Vanapha worked she said, ‘now I know I probably don’t have to tell you this, but don’t drop or spill this, okay?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ said Alex, the liquid offering a fiery smell to his nostrils.

  Filling the vials halfway, Alex stood like a statue as Vanapha propped dividers into the vials. Next she filled them up all the way with a translucent substance she had been preparing on the side.

  ‘So I gather that when these two mix they ignite?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Actually no, the Trisera on its own will ignite on very high temperatures or with a moderate impact. It’s the latter quality that makes it both useful and dangerous to handle. The Panoli acts as a fuel and shortens the combustion rate, if you mix it with Trisera and give it a good impact it creates a sizable explosion.’

  ‘So no mixing followed by sudden movements, right?’

  ‘Yes, even if we do survive it I’d rather not burn down the house, it’s got a nice charm to it,’ said Vanapha.

  Alex chuckled, ‘then again, any place with a warm bed this far into the wilderness is charming.’

  ‘No arguments,’ agreed Vanapha, smiling as her eyes remained trained on her work.

  Done, Vanapha plugged the vials with corks, then took them from Alex, putting them in a small wooden casing. Five more times Alex took up a vial in each hand as Vanapha replicated the process. At the end of it Vanapha placed a dozen vials in the casing, shut it tight and slid it in her satchel. Smiling contently she took off her gloves and goggles, Alex doing the same.

  ‘Thank you, you are a steady lab hand and tolerable company,’ Vanapha mocked formally.

  Alex smirked, ‘what kind of man would I be if I didn’t made sure we have some fireworks for the showdown?’

  Vanapha laughed and Alex mirrored her smile.

  ‘Do you think some things, you know, don't happ
en by accident?’

  Vanapha raised an eyebrow. ‘This you ask of someone who studies the stars?’

  ‘Exactly! So I was thinking, do you think it was just coincidence that Cid ended up having me carrying the wings of the spear, and you know, you coming to look for them?’

  She looked really angry for a just a second.

  Alex backpedalled. ‘Cid told me about the letter. And how you were supposed to go looking for the Winged Serpent He thought it might be prudent that we know!’

  Vanapha sighed, dispelling her frustration.

  ‘Don't read into things that aren't really there Alex, sometimes things really are just coincidence. We just want them to be more,’ she said as gently as she could.

  Alex felt greatly embarrassed, angry at himself that he had even brought it up as clumsily as he did.

  ‘Of course,’ was all he managed to say.

  It was a bit awkward afterwards, so Alex had no choice than to crack a fake yawn.

  ‘Well, I won’t blame if you want to get back to bed,’ said Vanapha.

  Alex smothered the yawn, ‘hmm, how about yourself?’

  ‘Oh I will be crawling in soon, I have no intention of staying up all night. Though I will clean up first, you’ll only notice how much you stink when leave here,’ said Vanapha.

  Alex chuckled. ‘Can’t go to war all dirty now can we?’

  ‘No, we can’t,’ said Vanapha with a smile.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you then to it, goodnight Vanapha,’ said Alex.

  ‘Sleep tight Alex.’

  Alex returned to his room, disappointed with the situation, chastising himself. Then again, given how likely they were to survive tomorrow, he didn't regret trying, not at all.

  Outside the house Cid lined himself a square in the dust, having hanged his lantern on the lowest branch of the dead tree. He was already bare-chested and bare-footed so he immersed himself in an imaginary war, the lines on the ground becoming much larger than they really were and enemies of renown emerging from the night.

  His muscles tensed and relaxed, stretched, tightened, bounded and then released as he moved, rapidly spinning, twirling and leaping, his spear often moving in the opposite direction, switching so fast in his hands and playing so swift through his fingers that it became an animal, barely kept in check by his efforts. Over his shoulder, behind his back, often from the hip; using his body to feed the momentum, and the momentum to perpetually cut, strike, lunge and stab. It was as much a dance as it was fighting.

  Round 10

  -Cid was a master with the spear. He was well known for it. The staff was not much of a different weapon, yet Stelinger showed great proficiency in defeating Cid, despite being actually far more practiced in swordplay. Stelinger was his equal, the man who boasted talent in exposing Cid’s deficits and was unrestraint in exploiting them. This is how Stelinger won, by doing things others were reluctant to.

  But then Stelinger thought he’d already won, that it was over, that Cid could no longer win. In the last few rounds Cid started gaining, his determination adapting to the patterns Stelinger had shown till now. In a fair fight, with a good deal of stamina left, Cid was always going to take the last rounds, Stelinger’s antics becoming familiar to the strategist.

  Stelinger felt himself driven back and then slotted for an opening, striking Cid on the side of his head. Almost comically Cid fell flat on his back, losing consciousness. A cry of outrage among the men woke him a second later, sitting up.

  Dismayed he witnessed the Commander calling the round he should have won in Stelinger’s favour, the man not even chastised for finishing Cid with an illegal manoeuvre. The round had been crucial for it marked the count where Stelinger could no longer lose the competition no matter what. Voices called for a change of judgment.

  Bennam remained passive. This brought an even greater outcry from the spectators and it brought Cid angrily to his feet. Stelinger spat to the side, eager to raise his eyes to Cid’s. He tried to hide it, but Cid saw the doubt in Stelinger’s face. The commander might’ve let it go, but he had lost favour with the men, knowing Cid had the better of him. They no longer tolerated Stelinger’s tactics, Cid left wondering if the Commander had overseen the foul with more purpose than just for the sake of continuity.

  It changed then, knowing that despite their winning wagers were heavily laden on Stelinger, they would in their hearts support Cid now. Stelinger would have you believed that it did not bother him, but no one escaped the displeasures of a crowd, even one as small as this. The sudden loyalty made Cid tightened his grip. He was going in fast. He would win the next round and then the last as well. By the end of it all the men would not count the rounds; they would simply see Stelinger fall-

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Cid was wrenched from his world, enemies fading, his fatigue catching up with him. He turned to Elmira, she standing on the veranda, her figure barely lit by the lantern’s glow.

  Still overextended in a move Cid found himself embarrassed, smiling as the sweat dripped off him. He straightened himself, looking at Elmira’s questioning face.

  ‘Guess I’d have to call it playing,’ said Cid.

  Elmira smiled, ‘we’ll don’t let me interrupt you, I want to watch,’ she said, sitting down on the low wall of the Veranda.

  ‘Why aren’t you sleeping?’ asked Cid.

  ‘You kept waking me, is something wrong?’ asked Elmira.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Just restless,’ said Cid, retracing his flattened lines in the dirt.

  Somewhat more aware now that Elmira was watching Cid put himself through the paces again, but did in no way hold back. As he moved and circulated he caught glimpses of her face, her mouth set in a quiet smile.

  He finished with a show of throwing the spear into the air and catching it with one hand as it came spinning down. Elmira mimicked silent applause.

  Cid though was rather flustered; he simply could not get away from the thoughts emanating from the spear.

  ‘You feel it now don’t you?’ came a voice from behind.

  Somewhat shocked Cid turned to see Vanapha, coming from the back of Oldeloft with a lantern of her own, a satchel hanging from her shoulder.

  ‘What is this?’ asked Cid, knowing she was speaking about the spear.

  Elmira was left frowning.

  ‘I can see it as much as you can feel it. Lidayel, he released your spear Cid, the moment he died he used the last of his power on the weapon that had just killed him. Mindevhier is now a weapon of Ruin.’

  Cid looked back at the spear, feeling intensely unfamiliar with it, despite the fact that his skills were as sharp as ever.

  ‘I did not want a cursed weapon,’ said Cid.

  ‘It’s only a curse if you make it one,’ said Vanapha, ‘a man like Stelinger will come to worship his blade and indulge in the sword’s bloodlust. You can choose, when you take up this weapon what kind of man you’ll be and whether the weapon will control the man, or the man the weapon.’

  ‘What is she talking about Cid?’ asked Elmira, having stood up and ambling to his side.

  ‘Of things I want no part of. Soldiering is a simple craft, I keep my head down and fight. Magic should have no place on the battlefield,’ said Cid bitterly.

  ‘Now you’re just lying to yourself,’ said Elmira.

  Cid looked questioningly at her.

  ‘She’s right, magic is a given, and you are no lowly soldier Cid, everything about you is groomed to be burdened with the weight of other men. You stand so that others may have a voice, so that those who share your determination can live out their best with you leading them, so that they may survive. The magic you hate so much? You are its enemy, now more than ever, and ironically by the end of it you will have shown the Kingdom that mystics has its place in the world. That is your plight. Your weapon holds the ideals of those who fought for the same things you did,’ said Vanapha, ‘even the moons acknowledges you Cid, they will witness your fight.’


  Without meaning disrespect Cid laughed mirthlessly at the woman, Elmira jabbing him on the shoulder.

  Vanapha held a content smile.

  ‘Look, let me show you…’

  Vanapha walked over to where they stood and they looked up in the sky, the Valkyrie tracing her finger through the air.

  ‘The diamond box remains constant as Angaria orbits around the sun. Tell me what do you see, can you remember the echelons?’ said Vanapha to Cid.

  Cid took a while, studying the moons. He had been ignorant of it till now, but there were four moons in the sky, Loikana being a big dark purple circle, hardly visible if one wasn’t searching for it against the black sky.

  ‘Mallova and Rodreon are full now, still in opposite echelons, the cloisters. Loikana appears in the crown echelon and Shaki-Halima is moving up into the crest. It’s right in between Mallova and Rodreon.’

  ‘Yes, Shaki-Halima has moved to a crucial position. In their current formation the moons represent thus; Mallova and Rodreon still stand as the duality of life, Loikana appears as the beast of old, emerging to slaughter, and Mallova is the representative, the will of the people to banish the beast.’

  ‘And I assume our “great black beast” is the Fallen right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vanapha nodded. ‘And soon enough Shaki-Halima will align with Mallova, the light and the dark against each other. It is the great sign of the Kingslayer. What we do here tomorrow will have ramifications far beyond our already important stakes I'm certain. We have entered an era of critical consequence.’

  ‘I’m sorry Vanapha, I just can’t see how you can think that the heavens cater themselves for us, that they could possibly twine their paths to suit our actions,’ said Cid.

  ‘You are narrow-minded on the matter Cid. Do you think Ruin weapons alone take imprints of souls, that our will and emotions are not sent forth by our spirits and made part of the annals of the heavens? There is no magic Cid, because it has already touched everything and all that is spiritual is born from it. Our victories and defeats, the cry of a dying soul, or the jubilation of a soul that found its love, the prayer for another - they ebb into eternity, caught on those strands of Godliness that we do not understand and then woven even more mysteriously into our story, the heavens mirroring our destinies.’