Entry tags:

basch, full cast, valley of the dead

Valley Of The Dead: Part 4
I wanted to make this the last chapter but it got a bit long and it's been a while since I posted the last chapter so here is the next installment! Please let me know what you think XD

Title: Valley Of The Dead: Part 4
Characters/ Pairings: Full Cast. BaschxAshe.
Rating: Generally T-ish
Length: 1636 words
Summary: As Basch recovers from a near-fatal head injury in Raithwall's Tomb, a certain member of the group goes missing.

Valley of the Dead: Chapter 4

Basch felt as though the world swayed below him. With an enormous effort he pulled up from that smothered him and opened his heavy lids. The sight that met his eyes was so beautiful that for a moment he forgot to breath. Ashelia held her face close, smiling expectantly and looking every bit the angel. Basch felt then that he looked upon the most beautiful and precious woman in all of Ivalice. This vision of perfection was flawed slightly by the blood on her cheeks and the old belief that he didn’t deserve to go to heaven- he’d killed too many men on the battle field.

Her hand gently released his head and it fell back briefly before he caught it. He felt horribly weary- a feeling that often terrified him to the core. On the contrary, Basch felt unusually safe, dazed and dream-like… except for the sharp ache at the back of his head.

He reached up a hand to wipe the red blood from Ashe’s tear-stained cheek. Her skin was soft and warm. Basch suddenly felt embarrassed at his open display of compassion. He tried to get a grip on himself but his thoughts were scattered from the blow. "Are you well, princess?" he asked, his voice not nearly as gruff as he would have liked.

She rolled her eyes slightly and her angelic smile turned into a smirk worthy of Balthier. "Of course." She moved away from him to a more respectable distance. "You make a soft landing." The smile fell from her face a second later- leaving her looking quite sickened. Her voice deepened as she became somber. "I thank you… "She looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t quite find the words.

The memory of their fall swam to the surface in his mind as Ashe stood up. He must have hit his head and fallen unconscious. To put off the moment when he’d have to try and stand up respectably, Basch took in his surroundings. He was sitting in an island of red. The sight of so much blood alerted him, sending adrenaline through his veins and putting his thoughts into sharper focus.

A metal hand gripped the crook of his arm, offering to help him stand. "It’s all yours, Basch. We’re not hurt." Vossler. Relief washed over him and he let his old comrade pull most of his weight as he got to his feet, staggering a little. He felt light-headed and heavy-limbed.

Penelo appeared at his side looking sympathetic. "You had a cracked skull but Vossler managed to heal it," she handed him a canteen of water and joined Vossler as he made his way back up the steps. "Shouldn’t we rest a moment before we go on? We don’t know what awaits…"

Basch could listen to no more. The others were already following Vossler and only Ashe remained at his side. Shelving his pride with shame and reluctance he gave in to his body and sank back to the ground. He could face nothing at this moment. Let us rest… let us rest…
--

Something stirred inside Ashe- sadness? Pity? Anxiety? Yes- it was a mixture of those and much more, it was something she had felt only a taste of before- it was love. She knew it now. It was an ache in her chest, an obsessive need, an intoxicating rush through her veins that rendered her unable to think rationally. It was the force that gave someone the power to utterly break you without even raising a sword.

--

His body rested, but his shaken mind did not. His sleep-controlled imagination was addled with confused images of his friends and old enemies long passed. They fought on the golden tiles now tinged with pools and flecks of scarlet. Nothing made sense- his dreams weaved into one big blurry rampaging battle field where friend fought friend alike and betrayal broke hearts and allies around him.

He knew, in the depths of his being, that he was asleep- that he had suffered a severe head injury and this was his reward- but still instinct urged him to get up and help them. He was a Knight of Dalmasca, sitting in shame on the bloodied earth like a new recruit who was out of his depth. He was stronger than this! But he couldn’t move fast enough- he was spent. Useless. His own body had betrayed him yet again.

Vossler leapt into view possessed with the raw animal ferocity that Basch had come to recognise well from battles spent at his side. He dreaded seeing which doomed soul Vossler was so focused on… and at this thought his mind conjured an image of Balthier, guns forgotten, thrashing at Vossler with Basch’s own sword, his face unrecognisable with eyes filled with alien rage and concentration. Basch wanted to yell a warning to Balthier. The fool was no match for him!

Vossler prepared a feinting attack Basch knew had never failed him and he panicked. He wrenched himself forward and lunged for Vossler, to knock him down, anything. His attempt was not enough- Vossler merely dodged aside and brought down his sword on Bal- no, Balthier was no longer in sight, Vossler’s sword fell as if in slow motion down to shatter Ashelia. An undefended, terrified and utterly vulnerable Ashelia.

Basch roared.

And woke himself up. His shout carried on long after he’d stopped- it echoed around the otherwise silent hall- startling the others.

After that he vowed to stay awake as long as he could endure it.

--

Their footsteps unsettled the ancient dust and grime as they descended the first flight of stairs. The group was wary- Basch noticed how they shot side-long glances at him, though they tried to be discreet.

He could do little to stop his stumbles on the steps and more than once he’d had to grasp the banister for fear of toppling into the others and into the depths of the temple below. He refused offers of more rest though- he had already held them up and would not become a burden. There was little time before the Imperials would arrive to reclaim the princess.

A sharp prick sent a hot sensation through the skin at his throat and he turned to witness a white bats wings retreating in a flurry. He made to draw his heavy sword but was stilled by a light touch at his arm and a knowing look from its owner. Ashe hold him back as Fran shot at the bats with her bow.

Basch didn’t protest as the others insisted that he held back from fighting. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open and not succumb to the blackness that clawed at him from the shadows.

He found himself at the rear of the group with Ashe, paying little attention to his surroundings as they wove deeper into the maze of the tomb. He put his faith in Balthier, Vaan and Penelo who lead the group and took the bulk of the foes with the occasional arrow and healing spell from Fran.

Another light touch to his arm sparked his awareness and he turned, expecting the slender white hand of before. The hand was grey, rotted and the flesh stripped in places to expose human bones. He stumbled backwards away from the zombie instinctively, retching slightly. No man could stomach the stench of its skin, or the pure horror of its dead and hollow face so close.

His breath began to come in sharp gasps.

"The Lady Ashe, Ashe- where is Ashe?!"
The last thought he shouted aloud, drawing his sword against the oncoming undead. There were several now, rising hunch- backed from the stone as though from a long-settled grave.

The others sprinted back to him, shouting and frantically searching for Ashe as though she might be hiding behind a torch. Fire born of fright and fear for his post sent Basch hurtling back along the corridor they’d come, beaten only by Vossler who was already out of sight.

--

Ashe had long slain the undead that crept up silently behind the group. True: she had given her focus to the uncharacteristically apathetic Knight that marched wearily before her, and she hadn’t given much thought to the spell that had been cast on her with apparently little effect.

She’d been a fool to overlook the symptoms. As the group slowly but steadily progressed, her body had ached and became stiff and cold. She did not shiver and her arms felt too heavy to hug herself warm. Each passing minute she had felt the hairs on her arms stand more and more erect at the slightest hint of a threat.

A gunshot broke the eerie silence as Balthier shot at foes in the next room. A fresh wave of fear wracked her- more ferociously than the last, making her gasp. In that unexplainable moment she finally realised what was happening to her.

By then it was too late. She went down hard on one knee, trying to scream in her effort to pull her leaden body upright again, but no sound left her lips but a gush of air. As terror crept up her cold spine to claim her, the weight of her limbs dragged her to the stone floor.

The waiting was the worst part. Her terror was complete and shattering. Her mind screamed but her body would not. She willed her mouth to move, wrenched herself fruitlessly. It was no use. Her thoughts began to fade, freezing over despite her determination to cling on to it. She was completely and utterly petrified.

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-One more chapter to go! I hope you like the climax XD I'll try and get it posted asap because there are parts of this that tie in tightly with this chapter. I can't wait to move onto something longer and more planned out!
- Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy XII, it's characters, settings etc. My stories are completely fictional.
-Please comment! I really want constructive criticism and feedback!