[Chrono Trigger Novel - Episode 5] Where No Prayer Reaches
There were almost no human footprints on the road to the cathedral.
The main road between Guardia Castle and Truce was rutted by cartwheels and marching boots, but wet leaves covered the path branching into the western forest. An old signpost leaned at the fork, its letters pointing toward the cathedral half erased by rain and wind.
Lucca looked behind them several times.
The torches along the castle walls were receding between the trees. By now, news that the queen had vanished again would have spread through the whole fortress. There was no telling where the search parties would go. If the soldiers caught them before they reached the cathedral, they would first have to find some way to explain the truth.
“Do you think they’d believe us if we said we came from the future?” Lucca asked.
Crono shook his head firmly.
She sighed.
“That’s what I thought.”
She drew a small compass from her coat pocket. Its needle pointed north, suddenly quivered west, then found north again after several more steps.
“I don’t know whether the magnetic field is different in this era or the trip through the Gate damaged it.”
Lucca shook the compass and returned it to her pocket.
“Normally I’d take it apart and check. Right now, I can’t afford to lose a single piece.”
Crono looked at her pack. It was full of tools and wires grabbed in haste from the demonstration platform, along with the device she had made to track the Gate. A short-handled metal launcher hung at one side. Lucca had built the weapon herself. A small explosion drove metal shot from its barrel, but moisture or dust inside the mechanism could easily prevent it from firing.
“What?”
Lucca had noticed his stare.
Crono pointed from the pack to her shoulder.
“Is it heavy? Of course it’s heavy.”
She adjusted the straps.
“But if you carry it, I’ll have to ask you to take something out every time I need it. That would be even more inconvenient.”
Crono held out his hand.
Lucca resisted for a moment, then finally removed the pack and passed it over.
“The Gate tracker is sensitive to impact. Don’t run, don’t fall, and put the pack down before you fight.”
When Crono shouldered it, the weight pulled him downward. He looked back at Lucca.
Recognizing the look, she immediately grew defensive.
“What? I only packed the essentials.”
He studied the three different hammers and pair of metal tongs protruding from the side.
“I need every one of them,” Lucca added firmly.
The forest grew quieter as they moved away from the castle. Birds seldom called, and whenever the wind blew, water fell from the high branches. Small stone figures stood at regular intervals among the trees. Each depicted a person with folded hands, though the worn faces were no longer recognizable.
Fresh flowers had been placed before several.
“So this road isn’t completely abandoned.”
Lucca examined the petals without touching them.
Crono looked at the earth below the statue. The footprints of the person who left the flowers had come from the cathedral and returned in the same direction. Someone visiting from the village to pray would have traveled the opposite way.
He lightly caught Lucca’s arm.
“What is it?”
Crono pointed to the tracks.
Lucca knelt to examine them. They looked like bare feet, except that the toes were long and pointed. The depth of the impressions did not correspond to a human body’s weight.
“Someone might simply be wearing strangely made shoes.”
Even as she spoke, she drew the launcher from her belt.
Without another word, they slowed.
The cathedral appeared where the forest ended.
It was built from pale gray stone. Its red roof and slender spire looked even neater from nearby, and small white flowers bloomed among the ivy climbing its walls. A placid lake spread behind the building. The landscape was so tranquil that it was difficult to believe they stood in the middle of a kingdom at war.
But the closer they came, the more details failed to belong.
In the flowerbed beside the main door, a heavy object had been dragged through the soil. Light showed behind the windows, but no human shadow moved. Bats hung beneath the eaves despite the daylight. Dust covered the rope in the bell tower, untouched for some time.
Lucca lowered her voice.
“This is very quiet for a place meant to welcome people to prayer.”
Crono put his hand on the latch.
Singing came from within.
Several women’s voices repeated a slow melody. The words were intelligible, but the hymn was strange. It appeared to speak of light and salvation until its last line, when it changed into praise for someone’s hunger and blood. The beauty of the music made its meaning easy to miss.
Crono and Lucca exchanged a look, then opened the door.
Incense rolled out to meet them.
A long red carpet and rows of wooden pews filled the interior. Paintings of winged saints and Guardia’s knights hung along both walls. At the front, a white statue of the Goddess stood upon an altar. Dozens of candles burned without a flicker.
Four nuns knelt before the altar.
When the door closed, the singing stopped.
The woman in the center turned and smiled. Her face was pale, her lips too red.
“Have you lost your way?”
Lucca stepped half a pace ahead of Crono.
“We came from Guardia Castle.”
At the words, every nun’s eyes moved at once.
“We have questions concerning the queen.”
The central nun’s smile deepened slightly.
“I understand Her Majesty has safely returned to the castle.”
“She disappeared again.”
Lucca mixed truth into the deception deliberately.
“The castle is reopening the investigation into her abduction. A search party will soon come here.”
The nuns did not look at one another. Nevertheless, the air in the room changed. The candles remained still, but beneath the incense rose the damp smell of something raw.
“How unfortunate,” the nun said.
“But the soldiers will find nothing here. We do no more than pray for those who have died in the war.”
Her hands remained hidden inside her sleeves.
Crono studied the altar. Wet earth stained one side of the red carpet. Scratches crossed the stone floor behind the altar, left by a heavy door or statue moved repeatedly.
When he stepped sideways, one of the nuns blocked him.
“Do not approach the altar.”
The voice was polite. The eyes scarcely moved.
Lucca looked toward the opposite wall. An old organ stood there. There was no dust on its keys, and recent marks on the floor showed where someone had pulled out the bench.
“You did not come to worship,” said the central nun.
Lucca hid the hand holding her launcher behind her coat.
“Was the queen brought here?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly, as though the nun had been waiting only for the end of the question.
Then a small light flashed at Crono’s feet.
Something silver lay at the edge of the carpet beneath the shadow of a pew. Keeping his eyes on the nuns, he bent to pick it up.
It was a slender hairpin.
A blue jewel had been set at its end, and the crest of Guardia’s royal family was intricately engraved in the metal. It was the same device Crono had seen on Marle’s pendant.
Lucca caught her breath.
“The royal crest.”
Every nun stopped smiling.
The woman in the center slowly rose. A sound like bone breaking came from beneath her knees. The other three followed. Under their black habits, their bodies stretched beyond human proportions.
“Put that down.”
The voice sounded in two layers.
Crono placed the hairpin inside his clothes and drew his sword.
The nun’s face split apart.
Her lips opened to her ears, and green scales rose beneath the pale skin. The habit tore, revealing a long, curved body. Her arms were thin as serpents, but black claws grew at the tips of her fingers. The other three changed into the same form.
Lucca raised her launcher.
“So it wasn’t the shoes.”
The first monster vaulted over a pew.
A metal shot left the barrel with a short report that echoed through the cathedral. It did not pierce the creature’s shoulder, but it twisted its body aside. Crono entered the opening and cut into its flank.
The second swept one long arm toward him.
He ducked. Claws brushed the tips of his hair and split the back of the pew behind him. Crono reversed his sword and aimed for the wrist, but the monster contorted itself away. Its spine was far more flexible than a human one.
“Right!”
Another shot flew with Lucca’s warning.
Reading the direction of the barrel, Crono dropped before she fired. The projectile crossed above his shoulder and struck the chest of a creature rushing from behind. The impact did not bring it down, but stopped its breath long enough.
Crono stepped forward and cut its leg.
As the monster fell, it whipped its lengthened lower body like a tail. Crono blocked with his sword, but the force drove him into a pew. Wood broke against his back.
Lucca tried to load another shot, but the third creature leaped from beside the altar. She abandoned the attempt and struck upward beneath its jaw with the handle of the launcher. The impact nearly folded her wrist, but she did not retreat. When the creature raised its claws, she pulled a small metal cylinder from her pack and threw it into its face.
The cylinder struck the floor and erupted in brilliant sparks.
The monster screamed and closed its eyes.
“Now!”
Crono pushed away the broken pew and turned. He drove the point of his sword deep into the blinded creature’s chest.
The remaining two separated to either side of the altar.
One came for Crono, the other for Lucca. They were too far apart to stand back to back. While blocking his attacker, Crono looked toward Lucca. She had reloaded, but the creature was too close. Firing might strike her with the blast as well.
Crono swept his sword upward from below. The instant his opponent withdrew, he turned and ran toward Lucca.
The creature’s claws caught her coat.
She tried to pull free, but the fabric held and tightened around her throat. The launcher fell from her hand. The creature opened its mouth and brought its face close.
A shadow dropped from above before Crono could reach her.
A short, broad blade flashed.
The monster’s arm fell away. Lucca went backward, and the swordsman landed between her and the creature, his cape brushing the floor.
He was a frog the size of a man.
He had green skin, a wide mouth, and round protruding eyes, yet there was nothing comical in his old armor, blue cape, or stance. He held his sword with both hands more steadily than any soldier Crono had seen inside the castle.
He turned aside the wounded creature’s attack, struck its jaw with the hilt, and used the force of his turn to cut through its neck. There was no wasted movement.
The last monster ran for the entrance.
Crono blocked its way.
It changed direction and sprang onto the altar, but the frog knight moved first. Using the back of a pew as a step, he leaped high and brought his blade down upon the creature’s back. Both fell before the altar. The monster did not move again.
Silence returned to the cathedral.
Lucca sat on the floor clutching the torn edge of her coat. She took Crono’s offered hand and stood without removing her eyes from the frog knight.
The knight shook the blood from his sword and sheathed it.
“To lower one’s guard is to open a door for the enemy.”
His voice was low and clear. At the sound, Lucca’s face went rigid.
“It spoke. It really spoke.”
The knight looked at her.
“Of course I speak.”
“The frog spoke.”
Crono lightly struck Lucca’s arm.
“I know. I know that was terribly rude. I simply need a little time to understand the situation.”
The knight did not become angry. He studied Lucca for a moment like someone who had endured the same reaction beyond counting, then looked at Crono.
“Were you the ones who found the royal hairpin?”
Crono drew it from his clothes.
The knight’s eyes narrowed. Without reaching for it, he confirmed the emblem.
“It belongs to Queen Leene.”
Suppressed emotion crossed his voice.
“Then the queen is here,” Lucca said.
“Those things would have no reason to hide this otherwise.”
The knight examined the altar, the organ, and the fallen monsters in turn.
“I followed the same trail. Those who attacked the queen’s carriage withdrew west through the forest, yet the knights searched only in other directions.”
“Why did you come alone?”
“Few within the castle give credence to my words.”
He glanced down at his hands and face.
No further explanation was required.
Remembering her own reaction, Lucca closed her mouth.
The knight stood before Crono.
“I am called Frog.”
Whether it was his true name or one others had given him and he had accepted, Crono could not tell. His manner allowed no questions.
“If you have come to rescue the queen, then our purpose is the same. But more enemies than these will wait within.”
Crono nodded.
“You would fight beside me?”
Crono nodded again.
Frog studied his sword and stance. Though he had already seen enough during the fight at the entrance, it seemed a final judgment.
“There is strength in the hand that wields your sword, but you have not yet cast aside the weight of those you kill.”
Crono’s hand moved slightly away from the hilt.
“Do not cast it aside,” Frog said.
“But do not let its weight prevent you from protecting the next life.”
Lucca retrieved her launcher and checked it. The barrel was straight, but blood stained the loading mechanism. She cleaned it with a cloth as she asked, “If the entrance is the only door, how do we go farther in?”
Frog looked toward the organ.
“If they hide here, their path would also be hidden from the eyes of those who come to pray.”
He examined the seams behind the altar and along the wall. Crono followed the scratches across the floor. They ended before the organ.
Lucca put a hand on the keys.
“I don’t know much about instruments from this period.”
She pressed a key at random. A low, heavy note filled the cathedral. Wall and ceiling resonated together. Even the dead monsters’ bodies appeared to tremble faintly.
Frog pointed to the music stand.
An old page lay there, bearing only four notes rather than a hymn.
Lucca played them in order.
Nothing happened between the first and second notes. At the third came the sound of metal engaging within the stone wall behind the altar. As the final note rang out, part of the wall pressed inward and slid aside.
Cold air flowed through the opening.
The smells concealed beneath the incense—rotting meat, dampness, and old blood—spread through the room at once.
A narrow staircase descended underground.
Small bowls of blue flame hung along its walls in place of candles. The light gave no warmth, and the bottom of the steps could not be seen.
Lucca grimaced.
“Whoever built a passage like this behind a prayer hall could hardly have had good intentions.”
Frog took the front.
“I shall lead.”
Crono lowered the pack, returned it to Lucca, and drew his sword. Frog looked once at Crono’s shoulder and shook his head.
“You will take the middle. You must join the one who watches forward to the one who watches behind.”
Crono could not tell whether it was an order or a test.
Lucca shouldered her pack and checked the launcher.
“I’ll watch the rear. In exchange, please don’t suddenly shoot out your tongue or anything.”
Frog’s eyelids lowered and rose with great deliberation.
“If you do not shoot me first, I shall consider it.”
Lucca found no reply.
The corner of Crono’s mouth lifted slightly.
The three of them entered the stairway.
Behind them, the stone door slowly began to close. The candles, the white statue, and everything arranged to resemble human prayer disappeared beyond a narrowing line.
When the last light was cut off, only the blue flames remained.
Beneath them, Frog drew his sword.
“From this point onward, trust no footstep.”
Somewhere underground came a sound like a child’s laughter.
It had not been made by human breath.
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