FFX-3 Chat

Chapter 3
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“There is something on the roof!”

The man let the woman, who was pressed closely against him at the higher level of the first air duct, separate from him bluntly. Holding their breath, they kept their ears open. Once again; the same noise, as if something hard was hitting metal. The sound was coming from above and was resonating through the wall on a regular pace. GONG, GONG, GONG...

“What is it?” Kush whispered. (Note: Kush is Kushu in French.)

 “A bird,” Valm answered. “A gull, judging from the strength of the knocks.”

Evidently reassured, Kush laid down once again on the cushions, showing expressly her wish to laze a bit more. But Valm rose and put on his light armour. The young girl was looking at him adjusting the leather pieces on his chest composed of flexible muscles.

“How do vous know that this is a gull?” (Note: ‘Vous’ is a plural/formal French term for ‘you’.)

“Only birds and monkeys can get up there. Thanks to the sound, I guess an animal quite big is hitting metal with a hard object. Why imagine a monkey with a tool rather than a bird with a strong beak? In this place, there are only gulls.”

“Vous are correct. But what does it desire?”

“Maybe should you ask it?”

“Yet again, vous are correct.”

When she was a child, Kush had been chosen to take a summoner training course. She only knew the Bevelle haven and this island. Her lack of knowledge was astounding. Here is why she came round to Valm's opinion.

When they met for the first time, three years earlier, he had thought she made fun of him. He despised her silently, convinced to deal with a too spoiled child. Once enlightened about her personal history, he had been seized with sympathy for the young woman and, to his astonishment, his affection turned into love. Never, before Kush, would Valm have thought to love a summoner.

These people were sensitive to pyreflies, that is, the deceased. Formerly, Valm imagined them ominous, obsessed with death. However Kush, like all her comrades, felt the same emotions than the others. She was no different from Valm. Despite everything, the authorities had gathered people gifted of this talent and had created an elite corps subjected to strict instructions.

None of them were volunteers: summoners were so uncommon these could not refuse. Kush and her fellows sacrificed themselves for the government. In exchange, the serenity of their close family was guaranteed, to twenty five years after the death of the summoner.
Kush seemed noble: she was always dressed to the nines, yet she came from a poor family; which reassured Valm, coming from the same background. He had never left the island, but his oath had rescued his kind from poverty.

“I am going to go downstairs first,” he declared. “The Bedohls must have had enough of waiting for me.”

“Could we not see each other without them the next time?”

“Why? Do they annoy you?”

“Not at all. I would like us to meet, just the both of us.”

“And who will support your palanquin?”

She laughed gently.

“I can walk as well as vous. No, better.”

“Probably, but venomous insects introduced by the enemy have increased, and I fear that...”

“Are their bites dangerous?”

“Infernal.”

She laughed:

“Oh, Hell does not appeal to me at all!”

He knew what she was referring to. When he was a child, his grandmother was used to talking about this in the evenings. It was a place of endless throes where those who had dared to defy gods were sent, dead or alive. He who wanted to avoid it must obey his whole life. After his death, he would be reborn in the form of a flower in the other world, as a reward. Hell or flowers... When he was young, Valm considered these two fates were equal, but his grandmother knew so many anecdotes to justify every rule that it was futile to question. From now on, he understood the old lady was entirely devoted to the authorities, which embodied gods in the tangible world.

“Is it not possible to avoid the insects without resorting to the Bedohls?” Kush asked.

“Probably. I could carry you in dangerous areas.”

“That would be wonderful!”

“Great. Now, dress up.”

He headed for the spiral staircase, in order to go down and talk to the Bedohls. Just before he set down his feet on the first step, he glanced behind his shoulder. Kush had stood up straight to look at the outside through the opening. Her body was as slim as the one of the goddess Luchera, except for her hips, which were rounder. Valm was nearly surprised she did not have wings. The delicate item of clothing she had put on had slipped, which revealed the mark ornamenting her lower back, on the right. An adorable heart-shaped mark.

“There is someone at the water's edge!” Kush whispered.

He rushed to her side. The moonlight was allowing them to make out the details of the landscape.

“Over yonder, on the pontoon.”

A young man was standing near a shabby boat which was rocking with the waves.

A refugee, Valm thought. But why sneak inside the island? This is suicide.

Without taking his eyes off the unknown person, he hurried her to dress up. Then he raised his forefinger and his thumb to his mouth, in order to call the Bedohls. But it was not the time to whistle. The man, apparently nervous, was unloading a bag from the boat. After a moment of struggling to unknot it, he brought out a round object.

A ball?

The unknown person put the ball before him. Valm did not know what to think. He understood that a refugee might have drifted to the island... But what did he intend to do? Play? It was absurd.

The man turned in the direction of the tower and raised his eyes to Heaven.

A ruse! He knows I am gazing at him.

With a nonchalant step, he mowed away from the ball. He was a good actor, Valm had to admit it.

“That is a bomb!” he cried out.

He took Kush by the waist, snatched her away from the window and pushed her against the pillar in the middle of the room. He was pulling her down the stairs when the device exploded. Valm lost his balance. Instinctively, he held the head of the young girl against his chest. His back hit the angle of the stairs, and he let out a whine of pain. The back of his head bounced on a hard surface. He recognized the smell of gunpowder. He was going to faint, he could not avoid it. But as soon as he would regain consciousness, he would go kill the murderer. He would not let this island fall into the hands of the heretic mage.