Volume 1

Chapter 1

The Skies Above Alexandria

Rain and sea spray, tossed in all directions by the violent winds, made the land impossible to find. Beasts entwined in the foam hissed across the darkened ocean. The boat floundered helplessly, the water battering its hull, the gusts tearing at the sail now reduced to a rag hanging in tatters from its rigging. Aboard, two passengers clutched the mast, their crimson shawls drenched through, and shivering with cold and fear. A woman kept one arm around the girl as great swells of water pushed the vessel like driftwood up onto peaks of water that rivaled mountains. Their boat collided with another swell, forcing the bow up with the water and sending the vessel into near vertical climb as the wave quickly rose. When the surge reached its pinnacle, the ship was thrown forward, falling back to the mercy of the ocean with such drive the passengers felt the wood buckle beneath them. Opposing currents, agitated by the storm, sent the boat into a spin; the barrels rattled on their ropes, the woman and the girl slipped and skidded on the deck. Still no sign of land, just unsteady waters as far as was viewable. The boat gave a jerk as another swell lifted the stern higher than the bow. The little girl slid down out of the woman's grasp; she scrambled down towards the edge managing to clutch the side with her quivering fingers before falling. Away from the woman she could see out into the sprays of the ocean, taste the salt in her mouth. Somewhere, just beyond the sheets of wild rain there was something … something. An orange glow. Another quick burst of water rose against them; behind her, the woman gave a scream.

Garnet woke. The sunset glow of tangerine highlighted the bedroom, and for a moment she thought she was still staring ahead across the raging tides. A cool, welcoming breeze on the side of her face stirred her back to full consciousness. The draught played with the delicate curtains and birds were twittering on the palace roves; the roar of the turbulent sea was replaced by their impatient melodies. She'd fallen asleep, she noticed scolding her own carelessness, in the chair by the window. On the table nearby, the teapot was no longer wafting steam. At least she had dressed before her impromptu nap, she thought to herself, and risen again in time to double check her preparations. Allowing the dream to sink away, the princess rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands and straightened up in her chair. A steam of air brought her attention to the scene outside the window, where the sun was low on the horizon. Common canaries hurried past the partially open panes, stark white against the autumnal hues of the sky. Garnet stood and stepped closer wanting to see the kingdom bathed in the sunset one more time; she pushed the panes apart completely and glanced out beyond the palace walls, past the flocks of canaries startled by one noise or another, and out to the main body of the city.

Alexandria ignored her gaze, going about its excited business below. Between two rivers, which naturally flowed from the reservoir behind the castle, were clusters of orange topped buildings. Streets weaved their way around these dwellings like confused serpents, and people hurried or dawdled or simply stood throughout them just specks from her perspective, living quiet lives.

(!)

Approaching Alexandria, the Prima Vista II was always surrounded by canaries. They circled the masthead, a beautifully carved sea-maiden, body of a women and tail of a fish, with wings, and eyes always staring out across the skies in which she flew. An important figure from an old wives' tale about bringing luck to performers. The boy didn't care for the myth, but he was grateful for the birds, because their screeching alerted him to the airship's proximity to Alexandria, allowing him enough time to hurry back through the ship's vast belly to the meeting room. The ship was a magnificent sight amongst the sparse clouds; its turrets and spires piercing the dying daylight, its propellers turning on towers attached to each of the hull, keeping the vessel aloft just above the Mist. They piloted the mightily vessel towards the cliff face, as though it sailed on the Mist like a boat on a gentle sea; as the boy passed a window on one of the lower decks, he saw the jagged mountains neighbouring the kingdom, and quickened his step.

He slid down the pole leading to the lowest deck, where it was quiet enough to hear each creak the old barge cried, and dark enough to need the assistance of lanterns. They hung on the windowless walls swinging with the motion of the ship casting shadows along the narrow passage, revealing the piles of costumes and broken props stacked there. Halfway down the pole he leapt off, his monkey like tail extended for balance, and then walked to the nearest door. The porthole revealed no light had been lit inside. He pulled the door open, abandoning the handle one inside, allowing the door to slam behind him as he carefully navigated the stairs down to the meeting point. Only a small circle of light filtered in from the hallway. Sure is dark he thought to himself, removing a match from his pocket, not suspecting he would be the first to arrive. Guess nobodies here yet. On a small table in the exact centre of the room was a circular candelabra with six candles; enough candles to perfectly illuminate the room.

Once lit, the chamber revealed itself. Just a small room with a large open closet on one side, and another mound of disused stage props on the other. Someone, Ruby no doubt, had placed a neat hanger in the corner of the room with shirts that needed to be repaired, but which would probably remain there another month or two before anyone got around to it. The most astounding resident of this room however, at least in his mind, was the woven rug laying beneath the table, stretching almost the entire length of the floor. Etched on its surface in deep reds, pale blues and golds was the band's symbol, a large heart pierced through with a dagger, surrounded by an elaborate cross-guard from which protruded two feathered wings. At the centre of the heart, their name was proudly written in the colour of ink Tantalus.

"Whose there?"

The voice hailed from behind the door on the left side of the room.

"It's me," the boy with the tail replied casually, pushing his thumb to his chest, "Zidane!"

At the sound of his name, the door was opened swinging inwards on its hinges. One by one they filtered out into Zidane's view; first a red-headed boy, with odd patchwork skin, then a larger, more muscular lad, with a single triangular tooth protruding from his lower lip, and lastly a pig-like man carrying a hammer, his belly overhanging the tight leather of his trousers. Standing together in the glow of the candles, they raised their hands and stood to attention, then as if mirrors of each other, they placed their fists together over their hearts. After the signal, they relaxed again. There wasn't really any need to perform their bazaar little ritual when the boss wasn't present, but they always did.

"Hey Zidane! You sure are late!" commented Blank; his crimson hair was messy and held away from his eyes by a thick brown belt.

Zidane turned to his friend. "Sorry," he replied, and then peered into the room behind them. Unable to see anyone else waiting there, he continued "So, where's the boss?" The motion of the ship rocked the door closed.

Cinna, the pig-like creature still clutching his hammer, gave the obvious response "Ain't here yet."

With a click, the door above the stairs swung open. The boys turned their attention to the landing above the steps. An oddly shaped shadow blocked the entryway. Whomever it was took a moment before coming into the light where Zidane and the others could see them, but they were already preparing themselves, unsheathing their daggers in preparation for the fight. He was hefty being, covered in a layer of dark fur beneath colourful attire, but he was agile enough to flip down to the bottom of the staircase, before the boys could get a good look at him. When he landed he roared at them through the mouth of an elongated dragon's head, its scales rippling with the flicker of the disturbed candle light.

They boys took formation in a classic battle line in front of the beast. The dragon man had removed a short-sword from its holding across his lower back, and stood ready for attack. Zidane was the first to move; he jumped forward but kept his blade at a safe angle, and instead of striking stuffed his hand into the beast's waistcoat. A dagger, much finer than his own, had been placed there, and he gripped it tightly as the beast tried to swing him off, flipping away with the weapon still safely in hand. Cinna was close behind him, using the beast's momentary distraction as he swung for Zidane, to his advantage. From the beast's trouser pocket, he removed a small purple vial, and quickly scurried away again back to the line. He wasn't fast enough; the beast came after him in a clumsy yet precise motion, landing the blade down his chest, and sending him to the floor; the vial rolled out of his hand. Marcus lunged forward, taking his blade and thrusting with a grunt at the oversized dragon-man as he backed away, but missing by an inch.

The dragon-man gave a hearty laugh, and came hurtling towards Zidane. The boy assessed the angle of the attack in just a second, and leapt away, throwing his assailant off-balance. With a fierce thud, the man landed on his girth. The beast crawled back onto his hands and knees, and was standing again as though he'd landed on a mattress; he hopped back to a safe distance. Blade already held high, Marcus sprinted for another blow. He landed another hit to the man's chest, and was succeeded by Blank, who ran his blade across the beast's wide stomach. Letting out a dramatic growl, the dragon-man took a strike to counter Blank. The patchwork boy perceived his attack and ducked; the blade moved over his scruffy locks, and the beast tumbled to the floor, overbalancing with the shift of his weight.

Zidane seized the opportunity as the beast regained balance; he came forward, taking a slash at the dragon-man's long, false, neck. One good blow was all it took to sever the paper and wire that had gone into its construction. The mask tore, wounded origami, and fell apart, its shards falling away and landing at the man's foot. His façade removed, the man clutched at a small cut across his head, just above the rim of his goggles; Zidane had miss angled just enough to cause a tear in his boss's aviator cap. The tapir like man which now stood before them had a bright pink beard, and ears which stuck up out above his head, but he was as menacing in his stance as he had been when pretending to be a dragon hybrid. He gave a deep, over-the-top groan, and clutched his head in both hands, maintaining his grasp on his false sword.

"UGHUUA!" the noise rattled their skulls. "Oh, my head! Go easy, you guys!"

With the fight over, Zidane lapsed to his knees, panting. Across the room, Blank was leaning against the closet's concertina door; Marcus could be heard wheezing behind him, and Cinna was still sprawled on his back, a line of red paint marking where the 'blade' had 'cut' him. Zidane would never understand how they so easily overpowered guards and monsters without breaking a sweat, and yet they were exhausted by just five minutes of performance battle with Boss Baku. Their leader who had neglected the pain in his head, laughed and came towards them, throwing his blade into a nearby pile as he did so.

"Hey fools!" he said. He reached Zidane and in a gesture of fatherly affection patted the boy's gold head. "You're lookin' a lot better!" and he laughed again, a sound that resounded from the depths of his belly and swelled to fill the space around him "Gwahahaha!" He strode towards the door, stopped as if he had forgotten something and turned back towards his troupe. "Alright! Let's start this meeting already!" Baku kicked the door open again and walked inside. Without another word, his team were on their feet, hurrying one at a time into the adjacent room where their boss waited.

Having already lit the twin lamps either side of the entrance Baku had positioned himself behind a large, metal table upon which had been placed a model of Alexandria castle. The figure was looking a bit battered; only one of the four white towers wasn't chipped, and the great sword protruding from the centre had lost its shine. Zidane sat himself backwards on a chair to one side of the display; the others arranged themselves as usual, Marcus on the chair beside Zidane, Blank leaning against the wall, and Cinna hoisted up on the chest towards the back of the room. No sooner where they comfortable, than Baku began.

"Here's the plan!" he boomed. He spread his arms around the figurine of the castle to gesture its importance and continued, "Tantalus, the infamous band of daring thieves-" and he took a moment to add "that's us" should someone have forgotten "-is headin' to the kingdom of Alexandria …" seemingly from nowhere the man produced a rag-doll, her shabby head adorned with a felt crown, her smile warn and creepy. Zidane wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Cinna wince behind him. "Our mission: to kidnap the heir to the throne, Princess Garnet!"

Cinna, who had been lying across the chest, rose to stand on it instead and chimed in. "I'll take it from here, so listen up!" From seemingly nowhere, he pulled a figurine of the Prima Vista II in near perfect condition, and held it before the group. Zidane wasn't sure, but from the corner of the room, he thought he saw Blank wince.

"Our ship's about to dock at Alexandria, and when it does, we're gonna put on our costumes and perform I want to be your Canary, the most popular play in Alexandria!" he turned to the troll to the left of the table. "Break a leg, Marcus! 'Cause you're playin' the lead!"

"Leave the actin' to me!" Marcus replied, rising from his chair. "Of course, the real kidnappers'll be Blank and Zidane!"

Blank took his que and said "I'll distract the audience from backstage with these little buggers." As if from nowhere he produced a cage of large, beige bugs, their eyes bulging as they hopped around in their enclosure. Zidane wasn't sure but he thought he noticed Marcus wince. "I can't stand oglops…" moaned Blank. "But I'll manage, so don't worry about me. And that'll be your cue, Zidane!"

Having nothing to produce from seemingly nowhere, Zidane was tempted to comment that it would be his job to then kidnap Queen Brahne. The woman was a frequent object to the crew's mocking, and he knew it'd be funny, but the stern expression on Baku's face made Zidane think better of the timing. "Okay! That's when I kidnap Princess Garnet, right?"

Baku smiled and held out the eerie representation of the young heir. "You bet! You're gonna kidnap the most babe-ilicious beauty in all of Alexandria, Princess Garnet!"

(!)

Vivi was one of the last through the Alexandrian gates, and probably the only person not to know where they were going. Others had friends or family waiting in the middle of the entrance square, waving to them and hailing them down. The kid however was expected by no one and had travelled alone, and standing among the expanding crowds the idea of navigating the intricate kingdom suddenly made him nauseous. Sighing, he dropped his head and tried to remember anything he useful his Grandfather might have said, but nothing came to mind.

A shadow crept over the kingdom walls and across the mottle slab ground, shutting out the sunset for a moment and dulling the colour of the kid's shoes. It blinded the stone woman and caused the visitors around him to gasp in awe. Surprised, Vivi turned; the sound of propellers and the rumble of an engine found his ears just as the great airship came into view. It moved across the sky lower than Vivi had ever seen a ship before, but high enough to pass over the statues and windmills and triangular roves below. The boy stood awestruck by the sheer majesty of its presence, watching it fly to the castle a system of gyros and paddlewheels churning under its hull. At the castle in the distance, it slowed, its reflection in the Alexandrian sword growing in size as it neared, until finally it stopped over the castle courtyard, where Vivi had been told the performance would be taking place.

The scene had a likeness to the cover of a storybook; the airship and the castle bathed in the early dusk felt like the start of something. Vivi could almost see a banner, or a title rising across the two singularly most powerful objects he had ever seen.

Something big was about to happen.