Chapter 2: The Damsel and the Thief

A stabbing pain in her head suddenly woke her. She sat up suddenly, her hand reflexively reaching for something at her side, and found nothing. She wasn't sure what she had sought, but finding nothing within reach somehow felt wrong.

She was in a soft bed, a lamp on the bedside table was the only illumination in the room, and the ticking of a clock hanging on the far wall was all she could hear. The pain lanced through her head again and she hissed against it, raising one hand to her head. Even her vision seemed to give way to the pain, the room blurring in front of her with the agony.

The room itself was sparsely decorated, aside from the lamp and the bedside table, she could make out a dresser on the far wall, and plain white wallpaper. The only door was in the wall to her left.

These thoughts were not what concerned her the most, however, so much as the question of how she had gotten here. She did not remember this room, nor coming here. An icy chill suddenly ran down her spine as she realized she didn't remember anything. Even trying to remember her own name only drew a blank.

She turned, leaping up from the bed, only to tangle her legs in the blankets and land on the floor with a loud thump. As she turned over to untangle herself, she still when she heard scraping wood on the other side of the wall, like a chair sliding on the floor, followed by footsteps, coming toward the door. She quickly pulled herself free of the blankets and climbing to her feet, and once more found her hand reflexively reaching for something that should have been at her waist, but was missing.

The door latch clicked, and the door eased open. On the other side was an older man, maybe in his early sixties, with graying hair, but was clearly in good physical condition, his bare arms revealing finely honed biceps and heavy calluses on his hands. He paused, surprised as he looked into the room.

"Who are you?" the young woman asked, "Where am I?"

He was silent a moment, examining the situation before responding, "You're in my home. Don't worry, you're quite safe here, for now. I didn't expect you to be up for another few hours."

The pain lanced through her head again, causing her to grit her teeth and lift one hand to her head as she sat back on the bed. "My head…" she groaned.

The man struck a match, lighting a lamp on the wall by the door and turning it up to illuminate the room. He then moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer and withdrawing something as he turned back to her. A black circlet was in his hand, which he held up where she could see it. "This is the cause of your headache," he said, "It's called a Slave Crown. Those two men had complete control over you while you were wearing it."

She looked at the crown, then shook her head. "I can't remember it," she said, "or anything else."

"Your memories will return," the man said, turning and tucking it back in the drawer, "In time, that is. The headaches, fortunately, won't last more than a few hours. But your memories may take weeks, or even months to return, I'm afraid."

His words brought her no comfort, but she did try to calm down, taking a deep breath. Her head throbbed, and she couldn't help by try to reach for something… anything that she should know. Like a beacon of light, she managed to find something, surprising herself when it surfaced in her mind.

"My name…" she said, "It's Terra. Terra Branford."

Now it was the man's turn to be surprised, but he smiled as he turned back. "That's very impressive! You wake so quickly, and already your name! I've never heard of anyone recovering this fast!"

It wasn't much, but it felt like the lone foothold in a raging river, and the woman, Terra, breathed a sigh of relief that she had that much. She looked up at the man, and asked, "How did I get here?"

The man moved back across the room, toward the door. "I found you in the mines," he said, "Last night, the town was attacked, you see, and I found you…"

A sharp knocking interrupted him, clear even through the wall separating the bedroom from the front, as someone beat on the front door with vehemence. "Open this door!" came a man's voice shouting from outside, "By order of the mayor, hand over that woman and the Empire's Magitek Armor!"

The man swore, rushing from the bedroom toward the front. Terra stood up, wobbling as her head throbbed again, but steadied herself and followed him. As she entered the front room, the knocking resumed, now sounding like, rather than his fist, the knocker elected to use a hard object, like a rock or the hilt of a weapon. "Open this door!" the man outside screamed again, "We want that woman! She's an officer of the Empire!"

The man swore under his breath, quickly grabbing a heavy fur coat from the rack across the room as Terra entered behind him. "What's Magitek Armor?" she asked as he turned around.

He rushed over to her, pushing the coat and something else into her hands, motioning for her to be quiet. "Listen," he whispered, "I don't have time to explain, but we need to get you out of here. Put these on and follow me."

The coat was wrapped around the other object he had handed her, and as she opened it, found a sword in its sheath, already fitted to a belt. She followed him back toward the back as she put it on, surprising herself with how naturally she did so, and the fact it felt like it belonged at her side. The missing thing her hand had reflexively searched for was back where it belonged.

By the entrance to the bedroom was a bookcase on the back wall. With a shove, the man pushed it to the side, revealing another door hidden behind it. As she pulled the heavy coat on, he motioned for her. "This leads out to an old area of the mines," he said, "Make your way out through there while I keep these brutes occupied! Once you're out, your best chance is to go south, to Figaro. I'll send someone after you as soon as I get rid of the guards, to help you get there."

Feeling overwhelmed by everything, Terra only managed a nod as she opened the door and stepped out. It immediately slammed shut behind her, and she heard the bookcase being slid back into place. Turning back, she realized the outer side of the door looked exactly like the wood paneling on the back of the house.

She was on a narrow walkway about twenty feet high, near the rooftops and she could see a high ledge at the other side, with an opening that undoubtedly led into the mines. Pulling the coat tight around herself, she started toward it.

It was a cloudy sky, though no snow was falling, and the wind had mercifully died away since the previous night, but there was still an icy bite in the air, each breath burning her lungs with the cold. There was also a heavy snow over the rooftops and the walkway, forcing her to move slowly to avoid slipping.

It was the snow that betrayed her. A small amount shifted as she walked, falling to the ground below, causing one man's eyes to turn toward the sound, seeing the indentation in the snow on the street, and look upward toward the source.

"She's up there!" came the shout from below.

Terra looked down, seeing men gathering in the street below her, all dressed in heavy furs against the cold, and all of them armed. One pointed to the north side of town, barking orders at the others, then pointed at the sound and ordered the rest to follow him. The gathering split off in two different directions, moving out of her sight.

Terra knew she didn't have time. She moved as quickly as she dared on the narrow walkway, and finally reached the rock ledge above the town, and broke into a run, into the mine shaft. Her footsteps echoing on the stone floor, she ran through the twisting passage. There seemed to be only one path, and that at least was reassuring. At least until she rounded a corner and nearly crashed into the guards coming from ahead of her.

"No!" she shouted, ducking back, narrowing avoiding the guard's attempt to grab her.

Turning to run back, she stopped short as heavy footsteps were coming up behind her, and more guards came around a twist in the passage. She was surrounded, with no place to go. "You've got nowhere to go, lady," one of them said, "Just give yourself up, nice and easy."

Terra turned again, seeing the guards coming in from ahead of her. Panic seized her. "Get back!" she said, moving to the side of the tunnel, trying to find some way to go. There was none.

Something else was happening. Even in the icy cold, she felt a strange warmth welling up in her chest. Her fingertips began to glow red and grow hot. This only added to her panic, which redoubled when she felt her back hit the rock wall, and the guards kept moving close.

She started to scream, throwing her hands out, and then the floor gave way. She realized she was falling, and a completely new kind of panic seized her as she fell into the darkness, only to stop just as quickly as she started.

She landed on her back, and pain shot through her skull as she cracked it on the stone floor. The ringing in her ears drown out the fragments of rock that had fallen with her hitting the floor. She rolled onto her stomach, groaning as the pain of the impact only added to the pain of her headache.

She struggled, pushing herself up on her hands and knees, but was only able to crawl a few feet before the pain lay her flat again, and she mercifully blacked out.

She struggled against the bonds holding her wrists. The interrogation room was somewhere she had never wanted to return. Now, chained to the seat in the center of the chamber, she was at her most helpless. Unable to move her hands, she couldn't even use the fire they so badly wanted.

"Always has to be a rebellious streak in the best subjects, I suppose," came the voice from behind her, "Well, if you won't follow orders, there are other means to make you do what I want."

He walked to wear she could see him. The long green coat easily identified him at any distance, but in this tight space, her eyes were drawn directly to his face. Ghastly pale, with clear burn scars across his face, surrounding his eyes and mouth. She remembered when it had happened, when the magical fires had come from within him, searing his flesh as they exited through his face. It was almost like bad, comical makeup, but the man himself was far more terrifying than the painted face of a clown.

He was holding a black circlet in his hands, tapping it with one finger. "See this? It's called a Slave Crown. When I put it on your head, you'll do anything I want, and I mean anything. Fortunately for you, the Emperor won't let us take advantage, but you'll be far more compliant in the real matters."

"You can't…" she said.

"You'll find I very much can," he said with a wicked smile.

He set the black circlet on her head, and the smile turned into a laugh.

Suddenly she found herself in the street. Soldiers in heavy mechs were pouring up the street toward her. She was angry, and moved toward them. Flames danced from her fingers as she lifted her hands. Like her rage pouring forth, the fire streamed from her hands, dancing to her whim. The soldiers were screaming as the fires ignited their clothing, melting the metal of their armor, their flesh melting from the bones before their eyes. Buildings caught fire, collapsing around them as the supports burned through.

She was screaming, her rage pouring forth, a crawling sensation tickling her skin as more and more men burned before her power. And there was the scarred man, watching it all from the side of the street. That sinister laugh over all of it, pausing only to urge her on. "Good!" he shouted, "Burn them all! Show them what you can really do!"

His laugh echoed in her head as she found herself in another place once again. Standing on a high platform, next to a mech, the Magitek armor, and four other people with her. One was the scarred man, a blonde woman in an imperial officer's uniform, and another man in an officer's uniform. The last person was an older man, dressed in much more regal clothes, gold stitching and jewelry adorning him to the point the gleamed. Below the platform, rows upon rows of soldiers, hundreds of them, waiting as the older man addressed them from above.

"We stand on the brink of a major breakthrough!" he shouted to them, "Thanks to Professor Cid's ingenious creations, we will witness a total revival of magic. The day fast approaches when each and every one of you valiant soldiers will be able destroy our enemies with the forces of destructive magics. Any who dare oppose us will be utterly destroyed!"

The other three moved up behind him as the crowd began to cheer. Raisin his voice over the cheering, the man concluded, "With our newfound power, nothing can stand in our way!"

"Hurrah!" came the cry from the audience, "Long live Emperor Gestahl!"

The platform faded from view as Terra slowly regained consciousness, trying to push herself up from the stone floor, only for the pain to shoot through her head again, and once more consciousness faded.

An hour had passed. Arvis paced across his dining room. He'd tried to slow the guards down, feigning ignorance and letting them search his house, though what little time he'd bought. The guards had departed, promising to be back, when someone had spotted Terra on the walkway. He'd sent word as quickly as he could after than, only to jump in surprise himself when the sound of the bookcase in the back of the house finally came.

A young man entered the room, shaking snow from his jacket and stomping his feet in an attempt to warm them back up.

"Took you long enough!" Arvis said as he entered, "How goes the robbing and plundering trade?"

The young man feigned offence. "I prefer the term 'treasure hunting!'" he said.

Arvis brushed it off. "Semantic nonsense, Locke, and you know it!" he said.

"There's a huge difference!" the young man, Locke said, then sighed as if in exasperation before changing the subject, "Anyway, I got your message. What was so important it couldn't wait?"

"We were attacked by imperial soldiers last night," Arvis said, "They were after the frozen Esper that was dug up in the mine. Of the three, two of them were found dead in the mine, in the room with the Esper. Their skin was burned off."

"Gruesome," Locke said, "What about the third?"

"That's why I called you here," Arvis said.

"Wait just a second," Locke said, "This better not have anything to do with that imperial witch I've been hearing about!"

Arvis tossed something to him. Locke snatched it from the air. It seemed to be just a simple black circlet. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked.

Arvis nodded. "That girl was being used against her will. I'm afraid that for her own safety, I had to send her off much faster than I would have liked. As far as I know, she is still in the old mines. The guards haven't turned up with her yet, nor have they come back to harass me for helping her.

"The point is, if that girl has the abilities that we've been hearing rumors about, she could be a valuable asset if she would join us. She survived an encounter with that Esper that killed the other two with her, so that is evidence in that direction, at least to me."

"Okay, I get it," Locke said, turning for the back door, "I'll go find her. You're going to be left holding the bag, though."

"Don't worry about me," Arvis said, "The mayor will come around before too much longer. I think imperial troops storming down Main Street may finally be enough to convince him that for Narshe's independence to stand, we need allies like the Returners. You just get that girl and take her south. She should be safe in Figaro for the time being."

It was mere minutes before Locke discovered the collapsed floor in the mine passage, and holding his torch in the hole, spotted something lying on the floor below. He nearly skipped over the side of the hole, dropping down to a trained landing, minimizing the impact by falling into a crouch, and the light of his torch revealed the green-haired young woman he was searching for.

"Took a nasty spill, I see," he said, brushing aside her hair to find the drying blood on the back of her head, and reached to her neck to search for a pulse. She was still alive.

He was pondering how he was going to get back up with her when heavy footsteps in the distance caused him to lift his torch higher. A lantern came into view from around a dark corner, illuminating the face and clothing of the Narshe guards. At least ten entered the tunnel, and the one holding the lantern smiled when he saw Locke and the woman. "Nowhere to run now!" the guard said.

"Wonderful," Locke muttered, "There's a whole bunch of them."

But it did confirm there was a way back up that didn't involve rope and hoisting an unconscious woman through the air. Locke tossed his torch onto the floor, drawing his knife from his belt, and wondered how in the hell he was going to do this as the guards drew the hand axes and spread out, filling the tunnel with four standing shoulder to shoulder and more behind them.

The sound of soft padded feet behind him caused him to turn, expecting an ambush, only to stare in disbelief. The strange white creatures were pouring out of a small passage behind him, filling the tunnel with their numbers, and two of them moved to where the woman lay, one reaching down with a small hand to turn her head and seemed to check her breathing.

"Moogles," Locke said in disbelief, "They're not just a story…"

The one that had stopped by the woman looked up at him, and pointed back the way they had come from, and made a strange sound. Locke glanced over his shoulder at the guards. They had stopped, probably in just as much disbelief as him, but were now starting to advance again. Locke scooped up his torch, holding it high, and could see the passage from which the moogles had emerged, smaller than the rest of the mine, but certainly large enough for a man to pass.

"I get it," Locke said, and turned to throw his torch at the guards, the flames causing them to back off a bit, and Locke quickly sheathed his knife, moved to the unconscious woman and scooped her up in his arms.

The moogles parted as he moved through them, carrying her toward the passage. The guards' footsteps increased in pace, not wanting him to escape, but the moogles came back together and Locke glanced back long enough to see them producing weapons of varying sizes, from knives and swords to flails and even a pole arm.

"Thanks, guys," he said, turning back to the tunnel, "I won't forget this!"

Locke ducked into the dark tunnel, moving as quickly as he dared in the dark as the sound of fighting echoed down the tunnel behind him. Saved by creatures from children's fairy tales. Best keep that one to himself, or he'd never live it down.

Bumping into walls in the dark, he made his way, the fighting growing more distant, until finally he turned a corner and was able to see light in the distance. He moved toward the mine entrance more slowly, listening for guards and a possible ambush. As he stepped into the sunlight, he paused at the entrance, glancing both directions from the mouth. He could see the valley floor south of the town from here, and knew he had emerged some distance west of the town itself. All the better, if he could slip away without drawing attention.

The snow crunched under his feet as he stepped from the mine entrance, finding himself on a ledge about twenty feet up from the valley floor. It was not a sheer drop, but the rocky terrain gave him pause, wondering how he could descend it. The woman wasn't heavy, but it was steep enough he'd need his hands to keep from slipping. As he was pondering a way to tie her onto his back, she stirred.

He looked down as her eyes fluttered open. He gave her a smile, but she reacted suddenly, one hand grabbing his lapel, the other going for the short sword on her belt. "Whoa, take it easy!" he said, nearly losing his balance from the sudden movement, "You're safe! I'm one of the good guys!"

She did not release her grip, but did look around, and realized they were outside the mine. "You're the one the old man said he would send?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Locke said, "I found you in the mines, and got you out here. How are you feeling?"

She relaxed, releasing her grip on his jacket and breathing a sigh of relief, then immediately ground her teeth, reached around the back of her head, feeling the painful spot where she had hit her head. The first headache seemed to be gone, at least.

"Can you stand?" Locke asked.

"I think so," she said, and he set her down on her feet, where she wobbled a bit, but then steadied herself. Her head throbbed, but it was the lump on the back of her skull that hurt, not the lancing pain from before.

"Take your time," Locke said, "As soon as you think you're ready, we can get going. Figaro is about an eight hour walk from here, and we'll be safe there."

She was able to get a good look at him for the first time, a young man, maybe in his early or mid twenties, he wasn't dressed in the furs like the guards had been, instead wearing mainly dark leather, his pants and jacket both, with the top button of the jacket undone, revealing both the wool lining inside the jacket and the white cotton shirt underneath. He was clean-shaven, with a friendly smile, and his hair was hidden beneath the blue bandana that covered his head.

She felt she should tell him about her memory, thinking it may cause problems later. "Listen, there's something you should know," she said, "My memory…"

"You have amnesia," Locke said gently, "I know. I saw the Slave Crown. Nasty devices, those things. And think about what that says about the people who made them."

"You know," she said, looking away from him, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward, "I see."

"Hey," Locke took her by the shoulder with one hand, giving a gentle squeeze, and with his other hand, turned her head back toward him and said softly, "It's going to be okay. I promise. You're feeling very alone right now, aren't you? Well, I won't leave you until your memory returns. You will not be left alone again. Okay?"

Terra felt herself smile, without really intending to. "Thank you," she said, realizing his words did make her feel a small bit better.

Locke grinned. "If your feeling lost, might as well have some company," he said, "Then we can be lost together."

Terra pulled her jacket tighter around herself as Locke stepped past her toward the ledge. "Okay, we go down here, then it's almost a straight shot to Figaro," he said, "You ready?"

She nodded, moving after him as he turned around and started down the rocky ledge. She waited for him to get a few feet down before climbing down behind him.

She couldn't remember anything beyond her own name, and felt as though she was being dragged along in a storm, completely oblivious to what her future held, and it was terrifying to think about. It was reassuring, however, that at least one person was going to be with her through it, though.