Roland couldn’t take a full breath. There was Eilidh, the first time he’d seen her in six years, the woman who had been the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother during his many years in Wonderia, the sister to his beloved Teacher, a great mentor and ally to him for so long…
And she was standing opposed to him. The whistle dangling from her neck proved she was the one who had cut off his connection to his Fantasians, something he hadn’t even known was possible.
And she was smiling about it.
“What are you doing here?” Muirrach asked, his voice taut, hushed. There was disbelief there, too, but nowhere near as much as Roland’s. So he’d known, then, some of who Eilidh had become and what she was capable of, things that Roland had never imagined.
“I’m not here for Roland, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Eilidh said. “Our meeting like this is merely happy coincidence. Particularly for them.” She nodded across the catwalk, to the Masks trying to break through Tsubasa’s defense of the twins. “But since you’re here,” at this Eilidh turned to address Roland rather than Muirrach, “it’s a wonderful opportunity to put my disrupting resonance to the test.” He fingers lightly brushed the whistle around her neck. “I can’t let your Pact Artes run roughshod over my colleagues, after all.”
“You’re working with them?” Roland asked, barely able to find his voice.
“That is the operative word, yes,” Eilidh said. “Our interests are aligned.”
“Now, you wait just a minute!” cried Alberich, Rig One’s maestro and the closest one of them all to Eilidh. He’d been gaping around in confusion for a moment, but had finally recovered his senses. “You won’t just tear apart my rig looking to take whatever you like! I won’t have it —”
Eilidh stepped forward and struck Alberich hard in the throat. He gasped for breath, then fell with a crash upon the catwalk, consciousness abandoning him.
“Eilidh!” Muirrach said, anger rising in his voice.
“I haven’t killed him,” Eilidh said. She cocked her head to the side. “You’re not thinking I’m a monster, are you, my love? You said you’d never give up on me.”
“And I won’t,” Muirrach said. “But if you intend to harm us, or let harm befall those twins —”
“What are the children to you?” Eilidh asked. “What do you really know about them? My associates aren’t in the business of kidnapping. They simply want to bring the children back to where they belong. Now, what’s wrong with that?”
Roland stared at Eilidh. And stared, and stared. He couldn’t make sense of her. She’d always been quick to a smile, always been very self-assured and confident. But where was the kindness she’d shown him all his life? How could she strike down a man who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, without hesitation? How could she be working with those who were trying to take away children by force?
And how could she be so… smug about it?
“It’s a nice chat and all,” Tsubasa said, her voice taut with concentration. “But maybe at least one of you could help me out over here?”
“Go,” Muirrach said, one of his big, glistening eyes fixing Roland with a serious look. “I’ll deal with her.”
“Oh, you’ll deal with me, will you?” Eilidh asked, laughing a lovely, musical laugh. It didn’t fit at all with the tone of her words. “Stand aside, Muirrach.”
“No,” Muirrach said, resolute.
Eilidh sighed. “Then I suppose I’ll have to make you,” she said.
She darted forward with blinding speed, her and Muirrach exchanging a dozen blows in the space of a heartbeat. No, not exchanging. She delivered an offense, and Muirrach put up a defense. He blocked, he evaded, but he did not strike back. Even though he only had one arm, he didn’t seem the least bit disadvantaged against Eilidh’s two.
“You shouldn’t pull your punches, darling,” Eilidh said, disengaging for a moment. “Decades sparring together, and you still think you can win by being a gentleman?”
“Roland!” Erika cried out. Roland pulled himself away from the fight, away from this vision of Eilidh as he’d never seen her before, an Eilidh who would pummel her way through her own husband to achieve her goals if need be.
Erika and Enrique were in trouble. While Tsubasa was busy batting energy bolts back at their senders, half a dozen Masks had climbed up from below, vaulting onto the catwalk and making a grab for the twins.
Roland dashed in without a second thought. He may not have his Pact Artes, but he wasn’t helpless. And in these close quarters, he could make the best use of his martial arts training. The catwalk was only six feet wide, with railings that only came up a bit higher than Roland’s waist — awfully low for his taller foes. Roland darted into the fray, shoved aside a priming gauntlet and struck its owner in the chest with his elbow, followed by a palm strike. The man staggered, hit the rail, then fell backwards over it, plummeting to the ground far below.
Five more Masks, but they were slow to react to Roland’s sudden attack. Roland knocked another one of them over the side before the others actually gathered their wits enough to strike back. Roland moved through them, blocking and striking back, always on the move, never stopping in one place.
“Dance like the water: unpredictable, but always with a destination in mind.”
His Teacher’s words echoed in his mind. And now more than ever before, Roland was in the moment, his senses on full alert, adrenaline pumping through him, lending him focus. Eilidh was here, and an enemy. The twins were in danger, and Tsubasa could not save them. Emotion and the urgency of the moment combined to push Roland to new heights.
He emerged from the battle unscathed, five of his foes somewhere on the ground far below, the sixth lying in an unconscious heap in the middle of the catwalk.
“Thank you,” Erika said, heaving a sigh. “But what now?”
Tsubasa wasn’t having too hard a time keeping the enemy fire from reaching the twins. But she was having trouble sending the bolts of energy back at her attackers. Unlike the first two she’d taken out, the rest were firing from cover, ducking in and out of the metallic structure of the rig’s control tower, never in the same place for long.
“No Pact Artes?” Tsubasa asked.
“Unfortunately,” Roland said. He tried singing Vi’s song, and then Kirin’s, but neither came out right. There was a faint resonance in the air, the lingering aftereffects of the whistle Eilidh had used. It warped the notes, killing the songs before they could be born.
“Keep an eye out for climbers, then,” Tsubasa said. She shot the briefest of glances back over her shoulder. “Is Muirrach okay?”
“I don’t know,” Roland admitted. While he had decades of time with Eilidh to draw upon, he still barely knew Muirrach, having met him for the first time mere days ago. Muirrach was putting up an impressive defense against Eilidh’s shockingly violent offense — but how long would he hold up? Not just physically, either.
It must be killing him to fight her.
“What are we dealing with?” Tsubasa asked. She smacked a bolt of energy back towards yet another Mask who moved right after shooting, so the deflected attack just hit the magicked metal of the rig and dissipated. “Come down here and fight me up-close, see how well that goes!” Tsubasa shouted, frustration finally bubbling over.
“They didn’t come here for us,” Roland said. “Eilidh said running into us here was coincidence. So they’re after something. But what?”
“Plenty of powerful tech here,” Tsubasa said. “Hard to say. Oh!” She missed a block, and a bolt of magical energy whizzed by Roland’s ear so close the heat scorched his face. “Sorry!” She batted aside another bolt and then pointed with her tonfa at the floor of the catwalk. “Chamber Ceithir!”
“The one that was having problems,” Roland said, crouching a little lower, his heart pounding. He didn’t need to make himself an easy target, or make Tsubasa’s defense harder. “But we don’t know what those problems were.”
“The Masks were in hiding when we got here,” Tsubasa said. “Whatever they were after, they’ve probably been working towards it for a while. There’s something going on down there. If we could just get off this catwalk…” She yelled at those firing at her again as she batted energy bolts back at them.
“Could we climb down?” Erika asked.
“That seems far too dangerous,” Enrique said, glancing nervously over the edge. “How did they manage to climb up to us? I don’t see an easy way down.”
“They’re surprisingly acrobatic when they put their minds to it,” Tsubasa said. She let out a sigh of frustration. “We’re not getting down there. Not unless we break through these guys and Muirrach breaks away to follow us.”
“Climbers!” Erika cried. Roland turned just in time to see a hand grasp the bottom edge of the catwalk. With astonishing skill, the Mask hauled himself up, and then flung himself at Roland. A brief fight ensued, Roland blocking and evading several attacks before finding an opening and shoving his attacker over the railing. Each of Roland’s footsteps on the catwalk seemed to create a strange resonance, something the steps of his foes did not. Two more Masks vaulted up to join the fight just as he defeated the first.
Like Tsubasa said. They’re quite the acrobats.
One of them tried to prime his gauntlet to fire, but he was only a foot away from Roland. It was a simple matter to bat his gauntlet aside and deliver a solid elbow strike to the throat, sending him reeling. Roland moved to a rhythm that beat in his heart, one he couldn’t place, but guided his steps. His footsteps rang out that same distinct resonance, a resonance only he created. He turned to dispatch the other Mask, and then returned to his first foe to finish him off — just in time for three more to climb up and join the fray.
I can’t keep this up forever.
Roland was getting through these fights unscathed, and was proud of himself for that. But his body couldn’t keep up. His chest was growing tight, and he was having a hard time getting a full breath.
He took two steps, solid, resonating on the catwalk. Blocked a strike, turned, blocked another. Quarter notes to a quick tempo. He was feeling the rhythm more, following where it led. Eighth notes in a quick exchange, blocking and striking back, dispatching one foe. A quarter rest, then quarter note blocks and strikes — a high knee to block a kick, then a solid kick of his own against his foe.
Sparks erupted from that kick. Sparks that could start a fire.
What… is this?
“If you would have opened your ears sooner, you would already know, little Summoner.”
Jurall’s voice boomed in his heart, and Roland realized what was happening.
The rhythm!
It was the same as the drums that had ceaselessly beat their rhythm inside Jurall’s Canon, accompanying his melody. And now Roland could hear it in his head, the melody of Jurall’s song, the power of fire at his call. He felt the beat in his heart, a guiding pulse that drove his actions.
I don’t need the melody. As long as I follow the rhythm!
He blocked aside a gauntlet primed to fire, and then punched — but his punch was too far away to hit his opponent. Instead, scarlet flames erupted from his fist, blasting the Mask across the catwalk to topple over the edge.
“That shouldn’t be possible,” Eilidh said, disengaging from Muirrach, eyeing Roland appraisingly. She didn’t seem upset or annoyed — just fascinated.
But Roland couldn’t rest yet, nor couldn’t respond to her. The twins remained in danger, and he turned back to defend them. And now he moved faster and stronger than before, Jurall’s flames coursing through his veins, the fire a vigorous cadence that lent him strength and focus. Fire was his weapon, and it was a rush letting loose on his foes, while controlling the fire so he didn’t harm his allies. Another four climbers were defeated, and no more hauled themselves up to meet the same fate. Roland punched several times, blasting fire at the top of the control tower where Masks were firing at Tsubasa from cover, and convinced them to hide or make a run for it, giving Tsubasa a much needed break.
And then he let out a sigh, and the rush faded. His blood cooled. The drums went silent.
“Just a taste, little Summoner. Don’t forget what true power felt like.”
“Thanks for the assist,” Tsubasa said, flashing a grin his way. “Everyone okay back here?”
“We’re just fine,” Erika said, though her voice trembled.
“They’re regrouping, though,” Tsubasa said, eyeing the far side. “And if I go charging at them, you guys are undefended. I’m guessing the fire’s already used up?”
“For now,” Roland said with a sigh. He was suddenly very tired. But he couldn’t let what had happened just now go to waste. He and Jurall had a long way to go, but using rhythm to call upon his Fantasians… that couldn’t just be unique to Jurall, could it? If he could tap into that for the others…
And then he saw Enrique, who was looking back the other way, eyes wide in amazement. Roland turned and saw Muirrach and Eilidh — husband and wife — fighting each other full force. Muirrach, though he only had one arm, still put up an impenetrable defense against Eilidh’s blurring volley of punches and kicks. Roland had never seen either her or Alystair show their full mastery of their martial art, and now he was awestruck. Eilidh had so often downplayed her ability, just like her brother, but here she was putting on a display worthy of the great masters of her art.
And Muirrach was putting up just as impressive a defense, moving with a fluid, stunning grace, dancing, always in motion, without giving an inch of ground.
But what moved Roland’s heart from awe to anguish was the look in Eilidh’s eyes. She was enjoying this. What made her so exultant? Roland’s brief conversation with Muirrach in the inn had spoken to how much Muirrach hoped to see Eilidh again — and that he’d hoped their first reunion would have a happier result than this.
And then there were the words exchanged.
“Your skills have sharpened since I left,” Eilidh said, stepping back from Muirrach.
“We never stop learning, do we?” Muirrach asked. Roland couldn’t see his face, but he heard the heavy heartache in his voice. “Eilidh… you aren’t free. What have they given you but empty promises?”
“Hmm,” Eilidh murmured, regarding Muirrach with disappointment. “So you resurrect the same tired arguments. Then I’ll return with a tired answer: join me, and you’ll see the value of their promises.”
“After Alystair, after Liam, do you still not see?” Muirrach asked.
Eilidh’s eyes flashed, just for a moment, with a dangerous anger. But it was gone a moment later. “See what? The wasteful impermanence of mortality?”
“They cannot offer you what you seek!” Muirrach cried, holding out his hand to Eilidh. “The road they pave leads only to ruin!”
“A matter of opinion,” Eilidh said. “Perhaps I can yet persuade you to mine.”
She was about to leap back into battle, and Muirrach braced himself. But then Eilidh looked at Roland. “Ah, Roland,” she said. “I’m sorry you have to see us like this. Don’t worry. I’ll soon be gone again, and you can continue on your Path. You must live up to Alystair’s dying hope, after all.”
“Eilidh, what are you…?” Roland asked, but he couldn’t find the words. Where could he even begin? What did anyone do when they saw the face of one of their dearest friends, and felt as if they were gazing upon a stranger? There were six years that Roland had missed, six years in which he might have noticed signs, might have seen what was coming, but he hadn’t been there.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
Eilidh blinked twice, her smile fading. She stood up a bit straighter, and cocked her head to the side. “Sorry?” she asked. And her voice changed, her expression changed, and Roland was gazing upon the face of the Eilidh he knew, the Eilidh who had cared for him and taught him so much. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Roland. So much guilt… don’t carry the guilt of Alystair’s death, Roland. Don’t carry the weight of my actions, my choices. None of this is your fault.”
Tears stung Roland’s eyes. He opened his mouth to reply.
But then Tsubasa bumped into him. Just slightly, just a nudge, but it brought him wheeling back around, on guard.
“We’re good,” Tsubasa said. She was still facing away from him, defending against enemy fire. But the blasts were coming less frequently now, sporadic and haphazard, only half of the shots fired actually coming near enough for Tsubasa to need to block. “Sorry to interrupt. But something’s wrong. I don’t think it was just your fire that made them back off. They’re getting ready to leave.”
“To leave?” Roland asked. “But they want the twins.” He looked down at Erika and Enrique, who were wisely staying close to Tsubasa.
“Sure,” Tsubasa said. “But if finding them here was a coincidence…”
Roland’s eyes widened. “Whatever they’re really here for is —”
A massive explosion suddenly shook the entire rig. Roland staggered, grasping the rail for support, and just noticed Erika slipping towards the edge in time to grab her. Tsubasa grabbed Enrique. Fire was billowing up from far below, and Roland peered down through the metal grating to see one of the spherical crystalline Chambers was now a ruin of fire, smoke, twisted metal, and crystal shards. Ears ringing, Roland heaved himself to his feet, set Erika upright, and looked around.
Muirrach and Eilidh, thank goodness, were still safe. Muirrach had grabbed the unconscious Alberich just in time. Eilidh hung back, showing no inclination to push forward now. And in the other direction…
The Masks were making a speedy exit. A few were firing off last pot-shots as they made for the stairs, leaving the battlefield behind.
But Eagle Mask wasn’t following. She was standing at the edge of the catwalk, staring straight at Roland, Tsubasa, and the twins, her gauntlet down at her side, not even primed. Even though she was wearing a mask that completely hid her face, Roland could feel an anguish from her, something more than some sinister villainous desire to abduct the twins.
Roland’s hearing came rushing back with the roar of fire and billowing smoke, just in time to hear Eilidh calling across the catwalk, “Our work here is done.”
“It isn’t!” Eagle Mask said. There was urgency in her voice, a surprising desperation.
“You can try to go through me,” Tsubasa said, brandishing her tonfas. “One-on-one didn’t go so well for you on our first meeting, though.”
Eagle Mask started to say something, but her voice was lost in the blast of a second explosion. The catwalk tilted, and Roland wasn’t as quick on his feet this time. He tumbled backwards, rolled once, grasped for the railing, missed.
He fell over the edge.
The sickening sensation of free-fall gripped him, and Roland reached desperately for something, but found only empty air. Some object tumbled past him, but he didn’t get a good look at it.
And then something found him. A strong hand grasped his forearm, and Tsubasa’s voice said, “Gotcha!” Roland gasped with relief and looked up, to see Tsubasa’s entire torso hanging off the catwalk. She was holding tightly to the rail with one hand, while her legs were braced against the lower rail supports. Something bounced off Roland’s shoulder, and he looked down to see…
Tsubasa’s tonfas, falling down, down, down to the ground below.
“Forget those!” Tsubasa said. Roland looked back up, and saw in her face the same relief he felt at being rescued. “I’ll pull you up. Hang on tight!”
Roland wasn’t particularly heavy, but even so, it was an impressive feat of strength for Tsubasa to haul him up with one arm. They both took a breather as they found blessed stability on the catwalk again.
That breather was short-lived.
“Help!” came Erika’s cry. Roland and Tsubasa both looked up, to find Eagle Mask with an arm wrapped around Erika’s torso, pinning her arms to her sides. Enrique lay at their feet, unconscious. Eagle Mask had her gauntlet trained on Roland and Tsubasa, primed to fire.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said sharply. “You have no idea what any of this is about. Let us go, and forget about them. They’re better off without you, anyway.”
“No we’re not!” Erika cried, struggling. “Let me go! Roland! Tsubasa! Muirrach!”
“Stop struggling!” Eagle Mask said, but it wasn’t a harsh command so much as a confused plea, like she couldn’t understand why Erika fought against her. “I’m trying to help you!”
Erika opened her mouth to say something, but instead of words, a different sound pierced through the crackling of explosive fires below and the dangerous hum of Eagle Mask’s primed gauntlet.
A single note, bright and clear, beautiful and joyous. And with it came a light, shining from Erika’s chest, a golden glow that shifted and flowed like visible wind currents. Roland could feel a warm breeze wafting outward from the glow’s epicenter, and then…
Something slipped out from its hiding place in Erika’s shirt. Her crystal — the crystal she’d gotten along with Enrique at the Symphonic Vault, the crystal that had resonated with her soul and now hung around her neck — was the source of the song, the light, and the wind.
The light pulsed once more outward, brighter than before, and Eagle Mask let out a cry as she was thrown back from Erika. There was a loud crack and a piece of her mask broke off. The light of Erika’s crystal immediately went dim, its song ended, and Erika reached for Enrique to try and pull him back with her.
“No!” Eagle Mask cried, but as she darted for Erika, Roland stepped in her path.
“You’ve lost once again,” Roland said, braced for a fight.
But Eagle Mask took a step back, just outside of Roland’s reach, and aimed her primed gauntlet at his face. “I’ll go through you,” she said, her voice rough, desperate. Through the break in her mask, Roland could see her left eye, and enough of the skin around it to see that she was young, no older than Tsubasa. Her eye was blue, a startling, almost electric blue, and it radiated with the same desperate anguish that sounded in her voice.
And it was here, looking her in the eye rather than at a mask, that Roland gained a new understanding of their repeated foe. He lowered his hands and took a step back. “I don’t believe you will,” he said gently.
Eagle Mask’s eye narrowed. Her gauntlet hummed with energy.
And then, a moment later, the hum of her gauntlet died as she lowered it to her side. She looked past Roland at the twins. “Erika,” she said, and Roland was startled. She spoke her name with such familiarity. “I will find you again. You’ll see. You’ll see that I’m… I’m not your enemy.”
And then she turned and ran. Tsubasa started to chase after her, but Roland held up a hand.
“What?” Tsubasa asked.
“Let her go,” Roland said. He turned back, heaving a sigh. Fire and smoke still billowed up from the wreck of Chamber Ceithir far below them. The catwalk was tilting at a shallow, but uncomfortable angle.
“We should apprehend her!” Tsubasa said. “We barely know anything about the Masks. She could tell us everything!”
“He might suffice,” Roland said, pointing past her. There, lying in a dazed heap on the catwalk, was one of the first Masks Roland had defeated.
“And I shall take my leave as well,” said Eilidh, stepping back from Muirrach. She smiled at Roland. “Impressive display. I’ll have to refine my methods, in case we meet on opposite sides again in the future.”
“Eilidh,” Roland started. But he didn’t know what to say.
Eilidh pulled out a black-rimmed hand mirror, with a black butterfly carved into the top of the frame. She tossed it into the air, and it grew as big as a doorway. She walked through the glass like it was water, vanishing through the looking-glass portal.
An instant later, the mirror shrunk, all the way down into nothing, vanishing in a mote of darkness.
“Are you all right?” Roland asked, checking on the twins. Enrique stirred, and Erika nodded. So Roland left them with Tsubasa and went to Muirrach.
“I had hoped you wouldn’t have to see who she’s become,” Muirrach said grimly.
“Forget about that,” Roland said. He rested a hand on Muirrach’s shoulder. “What about you?”
Muirrach wouldn’t look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the spot where Eilidh had vanished through the portal, looking for all the world like he wished he’d followed her through it — and like he was glad he hadn’t.
Then, with a sigh, he turned back, fixing his eyes on the unconscious Mask. “Let’s see what he has to tell us, shall we?” he asked.
They couldn’t attend to that immediately, however. First, they had to rouse Alberich, who, though he had a bit of a raspy voice, was otherwise healthy. He was a robust sort, it seemed, and quickly set to work guiding them all back down the rig.
The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. Chamber Ceithir had been destroyed — to what end, no one yet knew — but while the blast had caused some structural instability in the catwalks connecting the two control towers, the control towers themselves, all of the crane arms, the symphonic amplifiers, and all the remaining crystal Chambers were all perfectly fine. More than that, the Masks hadn’t seen fit to harm any of Rig One’s workers in their infiltration or escape.
Best of all, one of the rig’s workers had found Tsubasa’s tonfas where they’d fallen, far from the wreckage. When he handed them over to Tsubasa, she gave him the biggest hug, crying out in joy.
“I really thought they were gone forever,” she said, tears shining in her eyes as she gazed upon her tonfas. “They… if they were, then I… well, I just, I was so sure I’d have them for my entire training journey, so when they fell, and I thought they were gone forever, I was sure it was a sign I still wasn’t ready, and… oh, I just!” And she rubbed at her eyes frantically for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh that was nearly a sob.
Roland and Muirrach tried to smooth things over with Alberich, but there was no need. He was already joking about “the most exciting tour ever,” and boasting they’d have everything fixed and fully operational in no time. And his team wasn’t much different, their spirits surprisingly undimmed by the catastrophe that had struck. “We have numerous redundancies in place in case a Chamber fails, or even explodes,” Alberich said. “It really isn’t as bad as it looks.”
Though they wanted to help in some way, in the end, being allowed to leave shortly after the incident was a blessing. They had a lot to process, in the bus ride to a smaller town on the outskirts of the region. Their captive was bound, carefully monitored by Tsubasa and Muirrach.
And Erika and Enrique were notably silent, staring at the floor, lost in thought. Erika had her feather-shaped crystal in her hand, turning it over and over, gazing at it. But it didn’t glow, or make a sound.
“It came through,” Roland said, smiling at Erika.
“Yes,” Erika said softly. “I just wish I understood it.”
“It activated to protect you,” Tsubasa said. “Each soul resonance works differently. You never know what a crystal’s purpose is until it decides to activate. It seems you’ve got a guardian angel.” She smiled, but while Erika tried to smile back, it was clear her heart wasn’t in it.
Tsubasa’s smile didn’t last, either. “Erika,” she said gently. “The woman in the eagle mask… the way she said your name…”
Erika looked down. “I know,” she said softly. “It was… like she knew me.”
“But we don’t know her,” Enrique said quickly. Even though he was defensive, there was the ring of truth in his and his sister’s eyes. “We don’t…” His voice trembled, and he faltered. Erika took his hand and looked back up.
“We don’t know what’s going on,” Erika said. “We still don’t know why they’re after us, or why they were after our parents. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Tsubasa said firmly. “It’s these creeps who need to apologize. They have a lot to answer for.”
“And they will,” Muirrach said. “As soon as we stop, our passenger is going to answer all our questions.”