[Chrono Trigger Novel - Episode 45] Echoes Beneath the Throne
Crono kept his hand on his sword.
The man at the foot of the steps raised his chin a fraction. Light reached beneath his hood, but not as far as his eyes. Crono was trying to fit the face he remembered from Magus's keep into that shadow when a woman's voice came from above.
“These are not the guests I asked to be kept waiting.”
Queen Zeal sat with her back straight. The fine bones of her wrists caught the eye before the jewels on her fingers. Light flowing along either side of the steps gathered near her hands, then dispersed. Schala stood one step below her: close enough to see her mother's face, too far away to rest a hand on her shoulder.
The Prophet turned.
“The intruders I warned you of.”
“They opened the door.”
The queen's gaze passed over Crono's sword and came to rest on Marle's chest. Marle stopped trying to tuck the pendant beneath her collar. There was little point in hiding it now.
“Where did you get that stone?”
“My mother left it to me.”
“I did not ask you about your mother.”
Schala parted her lips, then closed them. Without looking at her daughter, the queen held out an open palm, waiting for Marle to approach and lay the pendant in it. The gesture brought back her father's dining table—all those conversations for which the price had been set before she was allowed to speak. Here, she doubted that surrendering the necklace would earn her a hearing at all.
“We came because of the stone, but there's something you need to hear first. You mustn't move the Mammon Machine to the Ocean Palace.”
A crystal beside the throne gave a low note. Schala caught a fold of her robes in her hand.
“Who told you to say that?”
“No one. We've seen what happens to the world after Lavos wakes.”
The Prophet shifted half a step. Crono tightened his grip, almost drawing the blade, then stopped. The man was watching Marle's mouth, not her pendant.
She held her ground.
“The cities are destroyed. Nothing grows. The people who are left climb into machines just to forget they're hungry. The power you're drawing on here is what does that to them.”
“Then I have all the more reason to keep it under my control.”
The queen did not sound surprised.
“Did this place you claim to have seen possess our skies? My palace? Why should I answer for the mistakes of people who cannot even provide their subjects with food and rest?”
Searching for a reply, Marle looked at the window beside the throne. Nothing but cloud lay beyond it. The people they had pulled from the mine, the little girl burning with fever—none of them could be seen from here.
“The people down below are hungry now.”
“The palace will soon be complete.”
“And if they die before then?”
Schala looked up. The queen's open hand slowly closed.
“I am considering the eternity of a kingdom, not one person's winter.”
Ayla stepped beside Marle. Her muddy feet left marks on the bright floor.
“Don't live through winter, don't get what comes after.”
For the first time, the queen looked directly at her. A door opened behind them, and Dalton entered. No one had to explain. He took in the dirt at the threshold and the positions of the three strangers before he began to smile.
“I'll dispose of them, Your Majesty.”
Schala started down the steps.
“Please, wait. These people—”
“Schala.”
Only her name. Schala could not take another step. Marle looked at her feet. Nothing held them, yet the tips of her shoes seemed fixed to the stone.
Dalton spread his arms. Between the travelers and the exit, the air caved inward. A round hand emerged from a black rim, followed by short legs and an enormous body. Its landing shook the floor beneath Crono's feet.
The creature looked up at the crystals near the ceiling. It had thick skin, a swollen belly, and small, vacant eyes. It seemed barely aware of its surroundings, but when it turned, it blocked their retreat precisely.
“A golem,” Dalton said. “You know magic, apparently. Let's see how much.”
Crono judged the distance between the steps and the two rows of columns. A servant crouched behind a pillar on the right. There were windows to the left, but nothing beyond them except open air. The center of the room was all they had.
At his signal, Marle moved right and Ayla left. The golem's eyes followed each of them in turn. Ayla rushed in low and struck its flank with a heavy thud. The thick body swayed but did not fall.
An iron sphere appeared above it.
Ayla glanced up and threw herself sideways. Her injured calf failed to push her clear in time. The sphere changed direction to follow her and dropped onto her shoulder. It did not break the skin. Instead, she fell to her knees as though the weight of her whole body had suddenly doubled. Her fingers splayed against the floor.
Crono drew his sword and charged. He had to turn the creature's attention before its arm swung toward Marle. The blade cut a shallow wound in its thick forearm. A dark sphere formed above him.
Dodging was not enough. The impact passed through him from shoulder to foot. He planted his sword point against the floor to stay upright, but his wounded side buckled and his breath stopped. The golem opened its mouth. A red fireball swelled within.
Marle's cold struck it in the face.
The fireball veered into the left-hand column. Stone burst, showering them with hot grit. Crono rolled clear with an arm over his eyes. Marle was gathering strength for another spell when she noticed frost spreading across the golem's body. White patterns crept from the place she had struck, across its belly and shoulders, and gathered on its hands.
“Crono, get away from there!”
Ice crashed down behind him as he rounded the pillar—great, rough chunks, larger than anything Marle had summoned. A shard grazed her cheek. She ignored the sting and watched the creature's hands.
Ayla pushed herself upright with a growl.
“It took Marle's magic.”
Crono gathered lightning at his fingertips. A short bolt pierced the golem's shoulder, melting the frost as blue sparks raced over its skin. The creature did not strike back at once. It lifted an arm as if testing a new sensation.
Marle seized that brief pause. She drove another wave of cold into it. The current gathering at its fingers vanished, and its breath turned white.
“It gives back whatever hits it last. There's a pause when it changes.”
Dalton's laughter grew quieter. He leaned against a pillar, never taking his eyes off them.
Crono lowered his sword. If he and Ayla kept striking, those crushing spheres would return. Better to endure the cold and let Marle attack. He shoved a fallen stone slab with his foot, propping it between two columns. The next volley of ice cracked it. Behind him, the servant cried out as he tried to avoid the fragments.
Marle turned toward him.
“Through the back door. Now!”
The man looked up at the queen. While he waited for permission, frost gathered again on the golem's chest. Crono caught him by the collar and thrust him into a side passage. Ice swept the floor where he had been standing, tearing the back of Crono's coat.
Ayla caught the falling slab in both hands. Instead of throwing it at the enemy, she tilted it back toward her companions to make a low wall. One shoulder trembled with every breath, but she held on.
“Marle, stay behind. Ayla holds it.”
Marle opened her palms and steadied her breathing. The skin along her burned arm pulled tight. If she used too much force, she might not have another spell left. She gathered the moisture into a narrow stream and drove the cold into the creature's knee. One foot froze in place. As it leaned to pull free, Crono sent lightning through it, and Marle laid ice over its skin before the current could collect in its hands.
The enormous body sank to one knee.
Twice more, Marle thought. That ought to do it. She was already thinking ahead, and her next breath came late. Her left arm shook. The moisture in her palm scattered. Crono saw her expression and tried to draw back his power, but the lightning had already struck.
Blue light opened between the golem's hands.
“Down!”
Ayla heaved the slab upward. Lightning split along its edges and lashed the floor and columns. Crono caught Marle and dragged her sideways. His arm went numb from elbow to shoulder. A thin whine filled his ears.
Ayla was the first to rise. She could no longer hold the stone. Blood smeared her palms, and her right foot dragged, but she still stood between the golem and her friends.
Crono felt for his sword. The hilt lay within reach, yet his fingers would not close properly. Marle pressed a hand over his and shook her head. Rather than struggling to stand, she dragged herself on her elbows until she was beside Ayla. Their shoulders almost touched.
A single clap sounded from the throne.
“Enough.”
The queen rose. The golem stopped moving. Dalton began to speak, then fell silent at her raised hand. Blue lines in the floor converged beneath the three travelers.
Marle clutched her necklace. This was different from opening the door. The power was rising from the floor, not shining out of her stone. Her feet lifted, and her bent knees would not straighten. A transparent wall closed around her. She reached for Ayla's nearby hand, but her fingers were forced back before they could touch.
Crono tried to see the queen's face. Light bent beyond his prison, making the throne recede. All he could make out was that Schala had come to the bottom of the steps.
“They must remain alive.”
The Prophet's voice. Whether he was restraining the queen or serving some other purpose, Crono could not tell.
“Then alive they shall remain.”
The queen looked up at them. Marle could no longer find her own reflection in those eyes. The woman examining their suspended bodies looked much like the scholar in Kajar turning a metal sphere in his hands.
“Schala. Come. We are going to the palace.”
Schala did not move. Only when her mother turned to look at her did she lower her hand. The hem of her robes swept through broken ice and stone dust. Marle tried to call her name, unsure whether her voice could pass through the wall.
At the door, Schala glanced back.
Their eyes met for a moment. Instead of moving her lips, Marle placed her palm against the transparent surface. Schala lifted her own hand a little, then hid it in her sleeve.
The door closed.
Crono's sword lay below, not far from its sheath, in the water left by Marle's melting ice. He looked down at it, then turned his head. Marle's eyes were open. Beyond her, Ayla had stopped pushing against her prison and was trying to steady her breathing.
They turned so they could see one another. Too far apart to touch, they watched each other breathe.
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