Chapter Text
Back in the Order, Seifer had collapsed into deep dreamless sleeps that were never quite as restful as he wanted. As a dragon, these things had made sense; like a giant lizard, he got chilled and took a while to warm up after a long period of not moving. It was annoying that the sluggishness seemed to have persisted, but today when Seifer woke up, he was more alert than he wanted to be and not because he was pleasantly entangled with the person he cherished most in the world. Under normal circumstances, he would have basked in the pure and quiet comfort of sleeping together with his hoard, his Quistis, and watching her breathe as she curled close to him. Even now Seifer stared hard at Quistis, trying to fill his eyes and mind with her perfection and her closeness…
And thus, push out the utterly horrifying images that his sleeping mind had conjured up and rubbed all over his face, all night.
“Human copulation is DISGUSTING. Bad enough I saw what I saw last night, but to imagine Squall doing that to Quistis…”
His entire being revolted against the idea, but his brain refused to let go of it. No matter how much Seifer told himself he was being stupid, that Quistis would never submit to something that mortifying, that Squall was bonded to Rinoa and wouldn’t even look at Quistis that way, there was a wretched part of his spirit that kept insisting, “But what if? What if? What if she wants that, but not with you?”
At last the lingering nightmare images forced Seifer to get up, dress and arm himself, and go in search of something to distract himself with. Pale grayish light in the common room below told him it was just around dawn, which surprised him; he usually slept much later in the Order, but being out on the road again must have helped. At this time of day, there looked to be a family of peddlers making ready to leave, a few village wives dropping off food to be cooked in the inn’s kitchen, and one errant knight who didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed when Seifer locked eyes with him.
“Hmph,” said Squall Leonhart, who was coming in from the outdoors. He was already dressed and armored, his pretentious braided black leather armor and the furry collar of his hooded cloak annoying Seifer very much. If it was still difficult to dye leather black, then Squall was wearing a vain and unnecessary fortune in something that wasn’t even as durable as plain steel. And that luxuriant white fur baffle was completely unsuited to warmer spring temperatures.
“At least he’s completely covered. I saw far too much of him last night!”
Dream and reality crashed together in the worst sort of way, making Seifer grit his teeth against the urge to leap on Squall and tear his throat out. And as always in times of uncertainty, Seifer went on the attack.
“Odd way of saying ‘good morning’,” he said, coming down the stairs. His every step struck like the stamp of a dragon’s foot on the ground and instinctively everyone moved away from him, uneasy. “Though I suppose I should be grateful you’re here to say anything at all.”
Squall blinked slowly, unimpressed. Yet his voice was forcedly calm. “Did you keep your forked tongue from your dragon years or are you always so pleasant?”
It was the most words Seifer had ever heard Squall say at once. He could admit they were clever, but the fact that Squall was talking back at all, like he had done nothing wrong, made Seifer want to bite him even more.
“I get tetchy when people break the rules for fun,” said Seifer, folding his arms. “Where were you?”
“I was training in the yard,” said Squall, his eyes narrowing.
“Some training, if you’re doing it alone.”
“Are you offering?”
Seifer was momentarily surprised, but then toothily delighted. “Are you ready?”
Squall wordlessly patted the sword sheathed at his hip. Seifer chuckled low in his chest and followed the dark-haired man back out to the courtyard.
The hard-packed yard was stirring now as the children of the peddler family readied their birds and a sleepy stableboy fed the other mounts. There was an empty corner that Squall headed for; once approximately in the middle, he turned, drew his sword, and saluted Seifer wordlessly. Seifer eyed the brunet knight’s blade with scorn; modern make in bright steel, unnecessarily elaborate with its sculpted lion crossguard, and apparently heavy enough that Squall had to use both hands to grip it. Seifer drew his own much superior blade, saluted, and glared when Squall’s mouth twitched in undeniable condescension.
“I’m going to grind his face into the dirt.”
At some unspoken signal, they both attacked. It was highly improper to use live steel in training, but the gusto with which Squall lunged at him meant Seifer could hardly hold back. Unlike a pair of amateurs, they did not crash their valuable blades together; they dodged, spun, sometimes leapt to avoid strikes, and with every hit that Seifer did not score, his smoldering distemper grew higher. Seifer had never questioned his strength or ability before, never once wondered if someone else would be better suited to fight and protect Quistis, but if he couldn’t beat one traitorous, lecherous, ostentatious weakling of a so-called knight, then… Then…!
What finally broke Seifer’s temper was that Squall hit his sword. Oh, it was a ‘parry’, but Squall hit Seifer’s sword, one of the very few items Seifer had from his pre-dragon life a hundred years ago, and even though Seifer had used Hyperion’s black blade to fight monsters and wild animals and bandits with shoddy weapons, the bell-like ringing Hyperion made when struck with another high-quality blade made Seifer see red. What if Hyperion got chipped or worse, broken?
“Is there anything of mine this fool won’t try to destroy? Matron’s well-being and health, the way I look at Quistis, my only sword—”
They had locked hilts at this point and were shoving for ground. Overwhelmed by temper, Seifer shifted his weight back, letting Squall stumble into him, and then rammed the shorter man’s unprotected head with his own. Bright sharp pain sparked on Seifer’s forehead even as a dull shock went through his skull and down his neck, but it was all worth it to see Squall stagger back and stare at him in shock, blood running down from the split skin between his eyes.
He almost looked like he was going to sputter and wail like a child who’d bitten off more than he could chew, but instead Squall stabbed his sword into a nearby hay bale point-first with a silent snarl of temper and a sharp nod of challenge. Seifer blinked. Then he stuck Hyperion into a second hay bale and accepted the new challenge with a roar and a flying tackle. Eyes blazing, Squall flew at him just as eagerly.
It felt good to punch and be punched, or to pick up Squall and try to throw him in the watering trough, only for Squall to yank his feet out from under him. It felt good to get kicked in the stomach and grab Squall by his hair (why would a knight have such long hair?) and sling him across the courtyard by it. Even when Squall managed to punch him three times in quick succession, it still felt better than sitting quietly, seething at sight of Squall’s face and thinking of all the reasons he even had to look at the man in the first place…
“…Let alone seeing his irresponsible flighty chit of a sorceress…”
“What is going on?!”
“Shouldn’t have thought about her,” Seifer grumbled sourly to himself as he heard footsteps racing across the courtyard. His head was whirling a bit, his pulse was pounding, and his entire body body was singing for more fighting as he wrestled Squall. And he did indeed try to grind his face into the dirt. But then a cold crawling sensation like a bucket of swamp slime being poured directly between his chest and armor went slithering over his skin and threw him back, making Seifer yell for multiple reasons. At least Squall was also lifted onto his feet and dangled like a toy, though he didn’t seem to be particularly uncomfortable.
Seifer snarled and tried to whip around, but a syrupy slowness made him turn very slowly instead to see Rinoa and Quistis both approaching, both dressed and both looking rather annoyed. Rinoa reddened when she saw Seifer, but seemed just as determined as he to not acknowledge what he’d seen last night. Seifer barely noticed that. His gaze locked onto Quistis, who looked pale and calm in the way that a frozen lake would be, before suddenly breaking underneath the footsteps of the unwary. Damn.
“He started it,” said Seifer to Quistis, who was already opening her mouth to scold him. “He challenged me to a match.”
“If he’s going to be around you for any amount of time, I need to test his skills,” said Squall unrepentantly to Rinoa. Was he slowed down too? Seifer rather thought not.
“I don’t care who started it, but I would think you two would know better than to hurt yourselves and each other while in the field,” said Quistis, putting her hands on her hips.
“Are you alright, love?” Rinoa asked Squall.
“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”
Seifer grumbled at the simpering exchange. Didn’t Rinoa have eyes? Yet it rankled that Quistis hadn’t bothered to ask him if he was well. She didn’t even react as Rinoa dropped the slimy slow sorcery and pushed a wave of healing magic over him and Squall both, erasing the good burn of clean honest fighting and restoring Seifer's foul mood when the split skin on Squall’s face sealed without even redness to mark its existence. Seifer had worked hard for that! What sort of nosy woman couldn’t let even a battle scar be?
“Ahh… Are they finished with the brawl, then?” A new voice queried. Seifer turned to glare at whoever was graceless enough to refer to important training as ‘brawling’ and saw an older, leather-tanned man who had to be the village headman if the quiet but proud way he held himself and his relatively fine clothes were telling the truth. Nevertheless there was a new wrinkle of worry nevertheless carved deep into his tanned face and his knobby hands twisted into knots as he gazed hopefully and fearfully at Rinoa.
“We’re so sorry you had to see that,” said Quistis, which made Seifer seethe.
“Lady, be ye a real sorceress?” Asked the headman to Rinoa, who looked somewhat trapped but still nodded, an uncomfortable smile settling on her lips. “Then please oh please, we could do with your sorcerous help. The well has gone dry just this morn and with the Moving Forest so near, we thought there might be some deviltry afoot.”
“That sounds horrible,” said Rinoa, looking guilty. “But—”
The headman bobbed his head, his fringe of white hair flashing in the morning light. “I’d nivver dare to ask ye t’fix the well, nivver so low, but if ye could look and see why…?”
“Oh!” Rinoa positively lit up with relief. “Well, if it’s just to look, then I can certainly spare the time!”
Seifer rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that he minded Rinoa looking overmuch, it was that looking to see a problem and fixing a problem should be one and the same for a sorceress. The fact that Rinoa could do one but not the other, at least not with difficulty, said a great many uncomplimentary things about her control.
But then, that was probably why she had a bonded knight.
The well was located in the middle of the village, a neat and surprisingly large construction of stacked stone with a roof to protect from falling debris and dust, and wooden planking set around it in an octagon to prevent muddy shoes and slipping accidents. A cluster of worried but not panicked villagers were milling around and the instant they spotted the headman, they surged towards him. He held up his hands like he could physically block the wall of babble that came rushing at him.
“Yes, I talked to her and yes, she’s going to look,” he said. At once all the villagers looked at Rinoa, several of them jumping and exclaiming like she’d popped out of the ground. Quistis frowned and looked at Seifer, who just folded his arms.
“She’s right in front of them,” Quistis murmured up to him as Rinoa stepped forward, a beatific smile on her face and her hands open wide; she looked the very picture of generous and welcoming, especially when she fluffed up her large white wings. “They act like she appeared out of thin air.”
“It’s a sorceress thing,” Seifer muttered back as Rinoa addressed the crowd; she seemed to be practiced at speaking to groups of people. “Unconscious most of the time; you can’t see them unless they introduce themselves or you know to look for them. Their magic bends the world around them to keep them safe.”
“Well that explains why nobody was bothering her in the inn last night, then.”
Rinoa went to the well, the villagers clearing back to give her plenty of space. Squall went with her too. Seifer noticed that as Rinoa approached the well, Squall subtly lifted his hand and Rinoa slid her fingers between his, the movements all so seamless that it could only be born of familiarity and practice. As she approached the well, Rinoa held up her free hand and waved it to and fro, like she was feeling for something she couldn’t see. It might have looked silly, but every now and then she jerked her hand back or her fingers clearly bumped and buckled against something invisible, but quite hard. When she reached the well itself, it looked like she was running her hand over an invisible door.
“I need to be closer,” said Rinoa to nobody in particular. But Squall sighed.
“Must you?”
“Yes.”
He sighed again. And then everyone exclaimed as they both stepped up onto the well and jumped in.
“Well, at least she can fly out,” quipped Seifer as he and Quistis nevertheless ran forward and looked down the well, beating out the headman and the rest of the villagers who also wanted a look. The well was deep, but not so deep that they couldn’t clearly see Rinoa and Squall at the bottom, illuminated by her wings and standing on dry rock. She was kneeling, her free hand on the ground.
Light like ripples on a pond began spreading from her palm, glowing away and then sinking into the earth. A coo of wonder went up from the watchers, except for Seifer. As soon as Rinoa had begun her sorcery, the most awful itchiness went over his skin and Seifer clenched his teeth, fighting off an uncontrollable wriggle that would highlight how impossible it was for him to scratch anything in full armor.
Then Quistis laid her hand over his. They were both grasping the edge of the well to look over so it was hardly subtle, but the reassuring non-itching warmth of her hand gave Seifer something to focus on and he clung to the comfort of her touch like a drowning man to a floating spar, and presently the itchiness passed.
“Are you alright?” Quistis asked as he finally shook off the horrible itches, which unsurprisingly ended as the light from Rinoa’s hand faded.
“Unhurt, but annoyed.” He scowled down at Rinoa. If he was having this reaction even when she should supposedly be focused with the aid of a bonded knight, he had a very low opinion of her skills indeed. Matron’s magic never itched.
Getting out of the well took another feat of sorcery that made Seifer itch again, but thankfully only briefly; Squall and Rinoa levitated out, still holding hands, and disengaged only once they were both on solid ground, beyond the wooden planking around the well. Rinoa looked troubled as she turned to face everyone, but Seifer noticed that Squall looked tired and cross.
“The roots of the Moving Forest have dried up all the water to your well,” said Rinoa, which made the headman go pale and several of the villagers cry out. “Fortunately, you’re due for several days of rain. I’ll cast a spell to make all of that water flow into your well and stay there, fresh and sweet, until my knight and I have destroyed the Forest.”
“And what if you can’t?” Asked one of the villagers, frightened. “What do we do then?”
Rinoa fluffed her wings, looking almost annoyed. But then she rose into the air a little, not enough to be frightening but just enough to impress and awe. She fanned her wings to their utmost, once again looking like something out of a storybook.
“I am the Lady Rinoa Heartilly of Timber,” she said, which made a ripple of shock and awe go over the villagers. “If you have heard of me, then you know my word is as true as sivril. I left to destroy a greater evil than Galbadia’s greedy eyes, but I’m back now to help Timber and all its allied villages, including yours, so help me Great Cosmos. The water will flow again, I promise!”
“Huzzah,” said Seifer sarcastically, but these people must have been desperate because they took up the cry immediately. Seifer scowled. Especially because Quistis was not successful in covering her smile before he saw it.
They followed Rinoa around the village as she ensorcelled the roofs of the largest buildings to catch and throw rain into the dry well; she almost laid an enchantment over the whole village, except Squall reminded her that the villagers’ home gardens would surely not thank her for the drought. Seifer was again unimpressed by Rinoa’s sorcery, which was both flashier and more basic than he was used to; Matron accomplished all her means with subtle and graceful motions, reserving correspondingly dramatic hand and arm movements for greater magics. But Rinoa was all flapping and spinning and pointing and actually touching what she needed to work on, though at least she wasn’t so badly off that she had to drag Squall with her for every single enchantment. Interestingly while none of this sorcery made Seifer’s skin itch, it seemed to grate on Quistis.
“What’s wrong?” Seifer asked Quistis when he heard her sigh loudly for a third time, not uncoincidentally when Rinoa was enchanting yet another roof. Quistis tilted her head in a rather particular way that meant ‘I don’t want to talk’ or ‘come closer’ depending o the amount of neck shown; it was ‘come closer’, which made Seifer just a little pleased even as he bent down to hear her murmur.
“Yesterday she was quite insistent on sending us back to the Order with a message and here she is now, burning daylight for us to go forth and return. This village isn’t so small that it would lack for materials, and at the very least she could have made a singing stone for us to take.”
“Oh dear, is she a frivolous sort?” Seifer snickered when Quistis knocked him lightly in the arm with the back of her hand.
“There’s nothing frivolous about ensuring these peoples’ survival. But yes, the inefficiency bothers me.” Quistis cleared her throat, making Seifer lean out of her way so he wouldn’t be deafened when she called over to the sorcerous pair. “Rinoa, Squall! When you’re finished, we need to discuss our movements further.”
Rinoa didn’t react since she was in the middle of controlling streamers of white light and sparkles, but Squall nodded back in understanding; apparently his role as a focus allowed him to devote energy to actually acknowledging the existence of other people and other goals.
Not long after they headed back to the inn for the promised discussion. By unspoken agreement, Rinoa and Squall walked ahead and so Seifer and Quistis saw the instant Rinoa stiffened like she’d been struck. She stumbled, nearly falling to the ground before Squall noticed and managed to catch her just in time. Quistis moved forward as well but Seifer drew his blade and looked around first: when he neither saw nor heard anything suspicious, he joined Quistis and Squall as they fretted at Rinoa’s sides. He did not sheathe his weapon, however; at least one person needed to be properly wary.
“I’m alright,” she kept saying, but even Seifer could tell she was lying. She was pale, visibly sweating, and her wings even seemed to droop. Nevertheless she was able to stay on her feet and after a few deep breaths, straightened. “But we must go. Timber is in danger.”
“What kind of danger?” Seifer asked, since it looked like Squall was ready to leap to his feet and run for mounts.
“I don’t know, only that it’s great.” Rinoa chewed her lip, dark eyes going even darker in worry. Then she looked at Quistis and Seifer. “Please, won’t you take a message back to the Order? Tell them about the forest and Timber and—”
“No,” said the two of them at once. Seifer was inordinately pleased that he and Quistis were united again, even for a single word.
“Lady Edea set us on this quest and I’m not going back empty-handed,” he said, which made Squall glare up at him.
“Just as importantly, if you’re determined to throw yourself into terrible danger, you shouldn’t go alone,” said Quistis. When Rinoa opened her mouth, Quistis quickly said, “Yes, you’re a sorceress. But the two of you are still new to your bond and you’ll be more vulnerable to attack. We should go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Squall to Quistis, looking at her with a frown that didn’t seem entirely displeased.
“Our quest means nothing if you don’t come back safely, which means I’ll see you safe,” she said. Seifer didn’t like the way Quistis seemed to speak only to Squall, a weird thrum of unfamiliar energy coming from her the longer she looked at his face. His eyes. Why? His dislike of Squall spiked, forcing a burst of meanness to come out of his mouth. Unfortunately, the burst hit the wrong person.
“Were you going to consult me about this or did you blithely assume I’d go along?” He snapped to Quistis, which made her jump and then glare at him, cheeks flushed. Why were they flushed? She wasn’t that angry… Or were her cheeks red for another reason?
“If things are so dangerous and urgent, Rinoa and Squall would do better with our help,” she said, mostly calmly and quite reasonably. “And then we would also have more information for the Order. Between us four, we have three knights, a sorceress, and an emergency dragon. It is not hubris to say the four of us can likely handle whatever is ailing Timber.”
“What happened to not being involved?” Seifer demanded, slicing through the air with an irritated flick of his blade; if he’d still had a tail, it would have been lashing. “The political landscape and all that? The entire reason we were sent after these two, if you can recall yesterday morning?”
“Why don’t we go back to the inn?” Rinoa broke in with a bit of a nervous glance around. “Not talk in the street, perhaps?”
Seifer and Quistis both ignored her. Indeed, Quistis narrowed her eyes at him for just a moment; he got the impression of a barely lifted lip, exposing a fang in a rather condescending sort of way. “The situation has changed. As far as we know, Galbadia doesn’t have any powerful magic on its side: otherwise they would have attacked Timber while Rinoa was still in residence or at the very least, as soon as she was gone. If something is attacking, we should investigate.”
“That is not what Lady Edea charged us to do,” said Seifer, unable to believe he was seriously having this conversation with his usually smart, serious hoard.
“We can’t leave when there are those who need us, Seifer.”
“How do we even know there’s a need?” Seifer turned to Rinoa, warming to his misgivings. "Yesterday you claimed not to be able to send anything, but apparently you can receive messages? Who is sending them? If there’s another sorceress in Timber, why are you here?”
“Are you calling my lady a liar?” Squall asked softly, his voice thrumming with threat.
“What she said has more holes than a wheel of Lindblum Blue and I’m supposed to think it’s hale? No.”
“Squall, please,” said Rinoa, holding up her hands as Squall rose and grasped his sword, eyes flashing. To Seifer she said, “I’m not lying. But I can see why you’re confused.
“It’s true that I can’t send very well. But the message I received was more like a signal fire; I left an artifact in Timber that I told a trusted friend to break if something terrible were to happen, and because it’s still part of my magic, I can feel when something happens to it no matter the distance. And I felt it break just now. It’s not supposed to break unless my friend is in danger, which means all of Timber is in danger. Does that satisfy you?”
Seifer weathered Rinoa’s growing upset and Squall’s glare, but he was having a much more difficult time shaking off Quistis’s silent, direct disapproval. He did his best. In the end he dropped his gaze.
“I suppose,” he grumbled. “Still suspicious that you’re running off on account of a message that the rest of us can neither see nor hear.”
“Seifer, you grew up with Lady Edea,” said Quistis, exasperated. “Surely there were times when she did something or knew something that you didn’t understand. Did you trust her then?”
“I’ve known Lady Edea for the entirety of my human life,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers, hard. “I trust her because she has always followed through and she’s never betrayed a promise. She also had the grace to explain what was happening every time instead of expecting me to go along as meekly as a chick.”
“You don’t have to come along at all,” said Squall, moving at once to Rinoa’s side; however, he glared at Seifer the whole time.
“Would that it were so simple!” Seifer looked pointedly at Quistis. “Are you set on going?”
“Yes.”
“Fine!” He sheathed his sword angrily and stomped off, snapping, “I’m going to the inn to get our packs,” over his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry about him,” he heard Quistis say, and something in his chest both seethed and cracked like molten iron.
It was still a cold spring day, so Seifer pulled a light but warm cloak for Quistis and himself before resettling the packs. He was tying them closed when he heard the door to the room open. Without turning, Seifer knew the golden presence behind him, normally as comforting as spring sunshine.
“Have you made any more decisions without me?” he groused, refusing to stop his preparations.
“All I’m doing is staying focused on our quest,” said Quistis, annoyed. “And doing it in a way that doesn’t result in bad blood. I know you don’t like Squall and Rinoa, but making it so plain at every turn is more trouble than we need.”
“So you thought they were going to come along if we only asked sweetly enough?” He straightened and turned, glaring. “They’re oath breakers. They don’t care.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“What?”
Quistis put her hands on her hips. “You told me that you went to face Ultimecia against Lady Edea’s express orders. What does that make you?”
“The one trying to stop others from repeating his mistakes,” Seifer retorted, which made Quistis sputter a bit: she thought she’d misread his motives. Secretly Seifer was pleased that he’d avoided her trap, however narrowly. “They’re running in blind based on Rinoa’s bad feelings and Squall is too addlepated to say no. They need cooler heads, preferably back at the Order.”
“And what if people need our help?”
“People need our help all over the world. We don’t need to go somewhere we only think something is wrong.”
Quistis tilted her head. “If you had heard of some unspecified danger to any other city in the world, one where Squall and Rinoa didn’t have any connections, what would you say? ‘Let’s go see and find out’, right?”
“No,” he said, but they both knew it was a lie. He had done plenty of just that when they’d been on the road together last year, usually to Quistis’s great exasperation. “Fine! Alright! We should go and find out. With our luck, her friend will have gotten the plague or some such and we’ll have wasted our time.”
“I don’t think so,” said Quistis, resting her hand thoughtfully on her cheek. “It’s suspicious, don’t you think? Just as Rinoa arrives, there’s a strange magical forest that interferes with her ability to send messages and who only knows what else. We should be glad they didn’t run away and leave us with two mysteries.”
Seifer grumbled again. It was so hard to argue with someone who was being so reasonable, not that reason had ever stopped him when he was determined. “I’d still rather have caught them properly.”
“You can sink your fangs into the magic behind the Moving Forest instead if that helps.” She sounded amused. For some reason that annoyed him too, but it was good to see her smiling at him again so he ignored the stir of irritation and threw her cloak at her, which made her laugh again. And so the world seemed right again, just for a moment.
So it fell that all four of them set out together. Seifer nearly rolled his eyes at the small bag that seemed to be all that both Squall and Rinoa were carrying, but not because it was inadequate; he strongly suspected it was in fact over-adequate, in that it was probably some sort of portal bag that had all kinds of frivolity in it. But he kept his bite behind his teeth and concentrated instead on walking to the Moving Forest, which even from the ground seemed rather closer than it had looked yesterday. Seifer was a little annoyed that they had to slow their pace for Rinoa’s weaker legs, but since she seemed determined to walk with the rest of them, he supposed it would be bad form to leave her entire behind. At least she mostly stayed with Squall, which meant Seifer didn’t have to interact with the man. Despite the respect generated from their fencing match, he still didn’t like him.
From the air, the most unnerving thing about the Moving Forest had been its size, but the closer they drew on foot, the more it became clear just how big the trees were. The nearest ones were as tall and thick as century-old oaks, yet the great churning of earth around their roots showed how they’d practically burst their way into existence. Beyond them the other trees grew thicker, their canopies denser, until less than twenty feet within, there was nothing under the leaves but darkness with a rising mountain of unbroken green above. The trees were also freakishly uniform, like a sculptor’s perfect idea of a tree repeated a thousand times and in only slightly varying sizes. When the wind blew, their leaves all moved exactly the same. It was deeply wrong. It was so offensive to Seifer’s senses that he almost would have called it ‘evil’ if he were basing such judgments on instinct.
He also found himself much more forgiving in the matter of Rinoa’s sorcery being interfered with, if this terrible forest that spanned the entire horizon and ate half the sky was the cause.
Seifer nudged Quistis in the arm; she too was staring at the forest in silence, alarmed in all it implied. “Hey.”
“Huh?”
“Do you think it burns?”
She blinked at him. And then she laughed, understanding him perfectly, and Seifer smiled. But Squall, who was right at the edge of the forest with Rinoa and several paces ahead, turned back to glare at them.
“A forest fire of this size would devastate the continent,” he said coldly. “You should show restraint.”
“I’d never do any such thing,” said Quistis, but her tone of voice made Seifer narrow his eyes at her. She sounded altogether too placating for his taste, considering she was the one Squall was insulting. “You needn’t worry.”
“I, ah…” Squall at least had the grace to pink up in the face. “Thanks.”
Rinoa gave Squall an arch little look before turning her attention to the forest. Out of all of them, she did not seem daunted by its size, its scale, and certainly not its existence. “We must stay close,” she said after a moment of silence. Turning to Seifer and Quistis, she said, “You must keep your eyes on me. I can see through the enchantments to find the safe path within, but those who aren’t sorceresses won’t be able to. If we are separated, you’ll be lost.”
“Why don’t we just fly over it?” Seifer asked with a frown.
Rinoa fluffed her wings. “You’re welcome to try. But…”
“What, you can’t fly above it?” When Rinoa shook her head, Seifer glared to cover his growing unease. A sorceress’s ability to fly with her fanciful wings was due in large part to magic, and if a sorceress couldn’t access enough magic to put herself into the air, something truly powerful was at play.
“Hmm,” said Quistis. Seifer wondered if she was thinking the same thing as him, but then nearly cursed when Quistis said, “I just tried changing form and it’s not possible for me either. This is truly a strange forest.”
“On foot, then?” Squall asked to Rinoa, who nodded.
“With our magic limited, we should be particularly careful,” said Quistis, unslinging her pack. “We’ll tie ourselves together so we don’t become lost.”
“Smart,” said Squall. Quistis brushed her hair over her ear before pulling the rope out of her pack. Her face was pink. Seifer frowned; was she getting sick? Was the magic of the forest affecting her too?
They tied themselves together in a line with Squall in front, Rinoa behind, followed by Quistis and Seifer guarding the rear. As they entered the forest, a darkness like late evening fell on them; Rinoa’s wings glowed with enough light to see by, but wreaked hell on Seifer’s night vision if he looked directly at them. And of course, the ground was all covered up by twisted mats of unnaturally thick tree roots that were just smooth enough to make walking a total nuisance.
“It’s like Qu’s Marsh all over again,” Seifer groused as he slipped for the umpteenth time, nearly trapping his ankle in the narrow space between two entwined roots. “But with smaller feet.”
“Did you want Qu feet?” Quistis asked, referring to the broad-based stilts that some of the Qu used to navigate their swampy homeland.
“Rather have real feet.” A dragon’s massive paws would take all of this warped wobbliness in easy stride.
“But your current ones are so much less sharp.”
“That’s supposed to be better?”
“It’s more comfortable in the field,” said Quistis, which Seifer understood to mean ‘when we’re sharing a bed’. That made him pleasantly warm under his armor, especially when he thought about how Quistis had been lying on their bed last night. Artless yet irresistible, tempting but terribly off-limits. And he’d been too angry to enjoy it! Even when she’d asked him to rub her shoulders, something he normally did enjoy oh-so-very-much because it was as close to touching her bare skin as he dared, he’d still been too upset to really be in the moment.
“If we share a bed tonight, I won’t let the chance pass me by. We will never be lovers, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Unbidden, his horrible nightmare skipped before his eyes, completely trashing his good mood. The moment it finally faded from memory could not come soon enough!
They walked for what felt like hours, and every moment was filled with a seething frustration, underlaid with a current of unease the longer they traveled. At least the further they went in, the larger the roots became until at last they could follow along individual ones like paths. It was absolutely silent in the unnatural forest and Seifer’s instincts jangled with the wrongness of it all, especially when they came across the wreckage of the first swallowed village. Broken houses and remnants of animal pens were pierced through and broken by gnarled roots, with rude stonework strewn atop the roots like scattered grains. Seifer frowned at the sight of several bones caught in the twists of the strange roots, all of them browned with age but clearly human. Even the dead hadn’t been spared the rampage of the Moving Forest.
“How horrible,” said Quistis, her voice hushed and yet, too loud in the still and dark forest. “These people won’t have a home to come back to.”
“Houses can be rebuilt,” said Squall, his eyes also on the rubble. “As long as they escaped with their lives, they’ll still have their homes.”
Quistis looked at Squall oddly. Seifer noticed at once and didn’t like it.
“We should take a rest,” he said, making the rest of the party stare at him. “Not here! There’s no water. And it’s too open. I mislike it.”
Rinoa’s wings pulsed softly with clear white light. “There’s a stream not far from here,” she said, pointing to the left. “It’s not on the best path, but it’s also not so far that we’ll be in danger. It’ll be good to sit a spell and eat something.”
“As long as we don’t sit too long,” said Squall, folding his arms and looking around with distrust. “There’s something wrong with this forest.”
“S’truth?” Seifer widened his eyes, feigning shock. “You mean to say trees don’t grow so swiftly, nor create lightless clearings large enough to fit whole villages after destroying them first?”
Squall glared at him. Seifer nearly said more but Quistis put her hand on his arm and he quieted instead, not wanting to bother her for the sake of some trivial pettiness.
The stream Rinoa had sensed nearby had clearly once been a mighty river, now diminished by the demands of the new forest around it; the lean ribbon of moving water was far too deep in the earth and trapped fishes too large for their shrinking world darted in bursts of frustration and panic across the muddy bottom. Somehow this bothered Seifer more than the bones or the broken village, which was why he went to the end of his tether to snatch several of the biggest fish out of the river and kill them with quick decisive bites to the bases of their skulls. Rinoa squealed in dismay.
“What?” Seifer looked at her irritably. “They were going to suffocate. They’re all going to suffocate. Might as well put some of them out of their misery earlier and eat what we catch.”
“You have a knife.” Squall said this so flatly that Seifer realized what the actual problem was. He wiped fish blood off his mouth, self-conscious but in the next moment, defiant.
“There’s nothing wrong with what he did,” said Quistis, taking one of the fish from Seifer and using her own knife to slit it at the base of the tail; as the blood drained out, she said, “You’re welcome to catch your own if you so wish. There’s plenty available.”
Squall blinked at her and then looked at Rinoa, who seemed faintly queasy. He shook his head then. Seifer gloated, both from Squall’s weak will and also from the fact that Quistis had defended him. Particularly since he knew that she was occasionally distressed by his leftover draconian tendency to bite things first.
They rested there, Seifer and Quistis eating fish while Squall reached into their small bag and pulled out food after food; Seifer’s guess of a portal bag had been correct. He tried not to roll his eyes when he saw Squall cutting the rind off a small wheel of cheese before giving it to Rinoa, even as he noticed that Rinoa glowed with surprise and pleasure. But then Seifer saw Quistis eyeing the twitterpated pair with something much like wistfulness. His heart cramped with the sudden conviction that he wasn’t giving her something she wanted.
At a loss, Seifer looked at the fish they were cooking over a field stove (tiny, hollow, and fueled by extremely strong liquid spirits). He didn’t have salt. All he could think of was breaking off the head, the most fatty and nutritious and delicious part of the fish, and presenting it to Quistis, but had the feeling that might only confuse her. She was a dragon in so many ways, but did she want to be courted like one? Not that he knew how to court that way anyway. Traditionally courting dragons exchanged items from their hoards, but he wasn’t even sure if Quistis had a hoard. And it wasn’t like he could give her herself, even though she was the most precious thing in the entire world to him.
After their meals, they walked more. At some point Rinoa called a stop, citing fatigue, and they made camp on a tree root so large that it could fit all four of them lying down with their arms spread wide. The trees in this part of the forest were so tall that their canopies faded into deep darkness, like a second starless sky that only they got to see. As Rinoa sat down, curling her wings around herself as her eyes fluttered closed, Squall drew his sword and walked around their band in a circle. The ostentatious blade glowed the same white as Rinoa’s now dimly gleaming wings and left a faint band of light in the air behind it, one that lingered until Squall completed his circle. Then the ring of light flared and fell to the ground in a neat pile of gleaming white crumbs, encircling their site.
“You can set a ward with your bonded power?” Quistis asked, surprised.
Squall nodded as he sheathed his blade. “It was the first thing we learned to do.”
Seifer had to privately admit that was sensible even as he said aloud, “Sending messages would be more useful.”
Squall just raised a brow at him. Seifer was mildly disappointed he hadn’t risen to the bait.
“I’m happy we’re able to set a ward at all,” said Rinoa, now yawning. “But I suppose it’s a small enough use of power that it doesn’t alarm the Forest into taking the magic.”
“Taking the magic?” Quistis repeated, eyes widening. “You mean… We’re losing magic?”
“No, no,” said Rinoa, shaking her head. “Think of it as quicksand.”
“Quicksand?!” Seifer shouted, jumping to his feet. He had more than half a mind to sweep Quistis into his arms and sprint out of the forest and to hell with Squall and Rinoa.
“Quicksand isn’t dangerous unless there’s more water than sand,” said Rinoa, and gestured around the forest. “In this case, the water is magic. If we don’t add any, we won’t be in danger.”
“But you just set a ward!” Said Seifer, unable to believe how stupid she was deliberately being.
“Which isn’t much magic,” said Squall.
“A rich man thinks a single gold piece is jewelry!” A rolling itch went up over Seifer’s arms and he scratched ineffectually through his armored sleeves, his rage spiking to new heights. The scraping of his bracers against each other made the most horrendous screeching, one that immediately made everyone cover their ears or shout at him to stop, and thus nobody was aware of the creature in the trees until it was much too late.