Chapter LXXIV: The Woman in Red

Jae Palacondo's nose crinkled uncertainly. Cat's eyes swept the hallway of Heaven's Tower which she patrolled, but she saw nothing. Her nose told her something was there, but her eyes and ears said otherwise. Slowly, she turned away and began her paces again. The same empty stretch of hallway greeted her, just as it had a hundred times before. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the least. Jae shrugged off the sensation. With the demon army right at the door, it was no wonder she was picking up so many odd scents. Only, she could have sworn she had caught a whiff of jasmine and tea leaves blowing by her. The soldiers had been drinking watered-down coffee for weeks, and no one had smelled like anything besides blood and sweat for longer.

She swept her gaze suspiciously down the hall once again. Her relief would be here in a few minutes, then the odd scents of Heaven's Tower would be somebody else's problem. The Mithran longed to crawl into bed and capture a few precious hours of sleep before the call came to go back out to the front lines. As tedious as patrol duty was, at least she knew nothing would happen to her here in Heaven's Tower. Especially in this part of it, near the top where all the important ministers and officials stayed. The battlefield was another story. Death hovered over Windurst these days lke a vulture drawn to carrion. Inside Heaven's Tower she could at least feel somewhat safe.

A few more mintues and her relief would arrive. Then she'd be off to sleep.

Jae stopped. Her cat-like ears twitched as a floorboard behind her creaked. Her fingers tensed up around the sword at her side. She could feel every fiber of hair from her neck down to her tail standing on end beneath her armor. She swept the corridor with her eyes. Nothing stirred, and for a moment even he ruddy torchlight on the walls went still in the braziers. The Mithra saw nothing, heard nothing, but once again the scent of perfume wafted by her.

"If someone's there," Jae warned, steel beginning to slide from its sheath.

Her words died in her throat. She followed shortly after them.

There was no pain as a knife slammed through her neck, only shock. Not comprehending what had just happened, she clutched at the hilt protruding from her jugular, wondering how so much blood had gotten on her armor so suddenly. The thick, coppery scent filled her nostrils. This was more like the battlefield, she mused, not remembering anymore why smells had been so important to her. Funny, she thought, as her knees buckled beneath her, there was something else in the air. Something like jasmine and tea leaves.

By the time she hit the floor, slick, wet blood pooling around her, she could clearly make out a woman in red robes appearing where there had been nothing before. Her eyes felt terribly heavy. She tried to laugh, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth work. There was something in her throat. It was a shame, she really thought it was funny that she was finally going to get to rest, and didn't even have to wait for her replacement.

Her last thought was a confused one. Amidst the blood and perfume, something else wafted by, so subtle as to make her think she might be imagining it. No, it was definitely there. Mingling with everything else, she definitely had caught the salty tinge of a woman's tears.


Dusk over Windurst found Meowolf in bed, wrapped in sheets and bandages. His strength was returning, but the White Mages watching over him insisted he rest for his own health. The big Galka had been running himself down into nothing defending their city, and they were afraid one more battle might not leave anything of him to recover. So he laid still, his head propped up on countless tiny pillows. Findind a bed for him in the first place had been no mean feat. Utlimately their solution had been to find three Mithra-sized beds and push them together. He had been more comfortable, but even Meowolf was forced to admit the rest was doing him good. Following his battle with Secure, doing anything more strenuous than breathing had become exhausting. Thus he was effectively confined to Heaven's Tower.

He knew night was falling only because of a dim moon appearing in the evening sky. It was dark all the time now. The pall of Dynamis had firmly rooted itself in the skies over Windurst. Light was quickly becoming a rare commodity. Meowolf hated the sight of dark skies now. It seemed a constant reminder that no matter how hard they fought, Dynamis was still taking over their world. They had lost so many lives now, and all in vain. Secure still lived, and still surrounded the city. In the days since his assault he had launched several smaller attacks, winnowing down their numbers with ease. With each new assault, the Windurstians rallied to drive his army back, and each time it was utterly futile. His army was so vast that it seemed almost undiminished. Meanwhile, Windurst continued to crumble.

Meowolf sighed heavily. He turned his head to stare out his window into the darkness. Watchfires and beacons dotted the city, but outside the faltering walls there was only shadow. The demons needed no light to see. He wondered how long it would be before those watchfires were extinguished, and nothing but permanent night remained. Cruel and merciless Kindred, brutal, murderous Vanguard, and the beastial Nightmare monsters; it was only a matter of time before the beauty that had marked Windurst would be overcome by their savagery.

And at the forefront of it was Secure. An Elvaan. A child of Altana. Bringing untold death and ruin to his own kind. Meowolf made a silent oath. No matter what else happened, he would make Secure pay for what he had done.

His thoughts on the matter were interrupted by a soft knocking at his door. Turning, Meowolf found none other than Captain Dieggo standing outside his bedchamber.

"Uf," Meowolf grunted, rising to a sitting position. "Come in, Captain. What is it?"

The Tarutaru quietly stepped into the room. He wore the same darksteel armor he had in every battle. When they had first met, Dieggo's raiment had been the epitome of a command outfit. Glossy and perfectly maintained, with each minute detail polished and visible. A model for his regiment. Now, the Tarutaru looked the way he must have felt Spotted with dents and holes, the chainmail links coming apart at the seams. The armor was dusty and caked with dried blood. Moreover, he simply appeared tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his face was lined with weariness. The Ariesian War Warlocks had been ground down to a skeleton crew. Dieggo was still a Captain, but his ranks were filled with ghosts.

He managed a weak smile. "I wanted to see how far you've recovered, Meowolf. It won't be too long before we have need of you again."

"I'm good to go right now, if you can find where they're hiding my armor." If either had any mirth left, they would have laughed. They both knew the Galka could barely get out of bed.

Dieggo pulled up a chair beside him and sat down. In the few days since the last big battle, that same chair had been occupied by nearly everyone he knew. Klades had come to see him frequently. Until the Windurstian White Mages had convinced her they had things under control, Sinti had almost refused to leave his side. Tyrian was with her, naturally, and whenever he could manage, Yasuchika snuck in to talk as well. The latter's duties as a commander were a restraint now coupled by his own injuries, which severely limited his time. Titania had stayed with him through the first harrowing night when it was unclear whether or not he would survive, but had not come back since. Even Kaita had come to see him, though that dark guardian's visit was one marked by long silences. Now it was Dieggo's turn. That left only one person conspicuously absent.

"So," Meowolf broached the subject gently, "where is she?"

The Ariesian Captain gave Meowolf a helpless look. "She's still missing, Meowolf. No one's seen Cullen since we found you in Windurst Woods."

A long silence passed. Dieggo shifted in his seat uncomfortably as Meowolf stared out the window of his bedchamber.

“She saved my life, you know.”

“And we’ll take that into account, believe me,” Dieggo reassured him. “But she hid her magic from us. It’s no mean feat to conceal magical ability in Windurst. We don’t know what she was doing out on the battlefield. And – you have to see the problem here – she and Secure both come from the Far East.”

Meowolf silently listened to the damning list of suspicions compiled against Cullen. The raven-haired woman had come from nowhere, and under highly suspect conditions. Her curiousity at every action of the Windurstians now seemed less the wide-eyed wonderings of a frightened girl in a strange land. An insidious air had crept in under her every action, casting doubt upon everything Meowolf thought he knew. The story of a brave knight rescuing a damsel in distress had been tainted by unspoken accusations.

“But why,” Meowolf voiced his thoughts aloud, “why would she save me?”

The Tarutaru spread his hands. "We're more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, Meowolf, but when we find her we have to question her."

The big Galka sighed, letting his head limply droop to one side. He needed a haircut, he realized. Besides having his wounds dressed, it had been ages since he'd taken a proper bath, or even been able to shave with anything besides one of Tyrian's hunting knives. He wasn't alone. Cut off now from the streams running through the fields of Sarutabaruta, fresh water was becoming a commodity in Windurst. Everything was being rationed off sparingly. Though they had retaken the city at the Battle of Heaven's Tower, most everyone still crowded into Windurst Walls for safety and access to resources. Windurst Woods, Waters, and her Port were empty of all but a few brave souls and the soldiers constantly on watch for attack. Bloated corpses clogged the harbor of Port Windurst now, a memento from a surprise attack two days prior. Captain Jaydeena of the Pythons had been wounded in that battle, and was even now fighting for her life in one of the many triages set up around the Great Star Tree. Every day, Secure whittled them down a little more. It wouldn't be long until he made a personal attack again, once he was sure there'd be nothing left to stop him.

He turned back to Dieggo. The weary Captain had become a close comrade in the weeks since they had first met. The last thing Meowolf had expected to find in these times was a friend. He corrected himself mentally. The last thing he'd expected was a woman like Cullen to rush into his life. He had promised to protect her. He had rescued her twice now from disaster. Or was it only once? Had her harrowing entry into the city been a ploy? Meowolf didn't know.

Dieggo must have caught the look in his eye, for he spoke reassuringly. "She'll be back, Meowolf. We'll get this whole thing straightened out."

"I hope - " Meowolf started, and then stopped in mid-sentence.

Something red had just flashed by his open doorway.

"What are you doing?" Dieggo snapped as the Galka suddenly threw his covers off, struggling to rise from the makeshift bed. Meowolf's legs weakly sought the floor as he braced himself with his thick arms. "Don't get up, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"She's here!" his words came out explosively, and the Tarutaru stared mutely for a moment after hearing them. Then he spun from his chair, hopping down and twisting his head frantically.

"Where?" Dieggo scanned the room as if Cullen were hiding in a corner somewhere.

"The hall, Dieggo," Meowolf growled, "she just ran by in the hall!"

As Meowolf staggered feebly to his feet, Dieggo was already running out ahead. Meowolf didn't even try to stop him. Here on the upper levels of Heaven's Tower, all of Windurst's leaders were located in a spot irresistably convenient for an assassin. However, most of those dignitaries were gone - left to deal with matters on the field. At the moment, there was only one high-ranking official still residing in Heaven's Tower itself.

The Star Sibyl.


Tyrian paced the length of the makeshift batltlement he stood atop one more time. Even his eyes couldn't make heads or tails of anything happening beyond the watchfires dotting the landscape below. The impervious darkness blanketing Windurst was a source of constant frustration for the Ranger. Relying as much as he did on his eyes, it made him feel diminished, blind. Some days he felt like he could no longer even remember what a sunny day looked like. At its brightest and clearest, the best the sky got anymore was a dark gray.

Sinti watched him pace. The Hume did not spare a smile for his Mithran companion, as he felt in these times he had none left to give. Meowolf was injured. Klades had not yet repaired his broken armament. Yasuchika as not as severely wounded as Meowolf had been, but had still been spending more time resting than fighting. Even Titania was scarcely seen, constantly on patrol with the Pythons, slinking in the shadows for any sign of attack. So Tyrian and Sinti stod atop their lonely battlement, facing an unseen horde.

"You're making me nervous," Sinti told him, her eyebrow twitching in irritation.

"I can't help it," he didn't halt his pacing. "I can't stand this waiting."

The Mithra folded her arms, turning her head away from the archer. "I prefer it to the fighting," she muttered.

Tyrian gripped the wooden railing with a leather-gloved hand. A wind was starting to blow in from the north. He understood Sinti's sentiment, but found himself unable to agree. At least in battle he could see what was coming at him. Sitting still and waiting for the next inevitable wave was maddening. When they had arrived, they had all been together, and he had waited amongst friends and allies. People he trusted. Now it was only Sinti, and he viewed her as far more than a simple comrade-at-arms. Exposed as they were, out here in the open, bolstering the last of Windurst's faltering defenses, all he could do was worry about how he would protect her when the time came.

"Hello, up there," a voice called. Tyrian looked down to see none other than Ryce-Rizzle, Co-Captain of the Libran War Warlocks, standing at the base of the wooden structure. "May I come up?"

"Of course," Sinti called back before Tyrian could respond. She was already opening up the trap door over the ladder downwards. "We'd be glad for the company."

Ryce smiled, taking hold of the ladder rungs as two Tarutaru warriors took up a guarding stance at the tower's base. Their Captain ascended into the hastily-made tower's nest, greeting both with a firm handshake - surprisingly so for such tiny hands. The railing, waist-high on Tyrian, was too tall for the Libran to see over, yet he held himself as if he were eye-level with the Ranger.

"What brings you here, Captain?" Sinti inquired. Tyrian concerned himself with ineffectively scanning the horizon again. He wasn't much for small talk.

The Tarutaru peered over the side as much as he was able. "Just making the rounds with all of our checkpoints. Altana knows there's not much else to do, waiting around for the next blasted attack." The Tarutaru shook his head, a disgusted noise rising from his throat. "He's doing this on purpose, you know."

"Who is?"

"Secure," Ryce growled out a response to Sinti's question. "That thrice-damned Elvaan is enjoying this. He's like a cat, playing with his food. No offense, Sinti."

"None taken," the Mithra responded. Tyrian kept out of it still. He liked Captain Ryce well enough, but he just didn't feel like making conversation. Instead he concentrated still on the perpetual blackness looming all around them. He could almost see something, he thought. Something moving in the night. Was he imagining it, or . . . ?

"Anything to get away from that namby-pamby Harutaru," Ryce was saying. "The Libran Combat Casters have their uses, but give me a stout axe and a good bow any day. My warriors can - "

"Shhhhhh."

Both the Tarutaru and Mithra turned their focus on Tyrian. He had extended his hand backwards, motioning for silence.

"Tyrian?" Sinti sounded unsure. "What's wrong?"

The Ranger said nothing. He only peered intently into the darkness, straining his eyes to try and pierce the veil surrounding Windurst. Sinti and Ryce exchanged a confused look, with the Tarutaru struggling to see over the rail.

"What is it, archer? What do you - "

"I need some light," the Ranger turned walking to the side of his perch. "Light!" He called out. The sound of distant voices responded. Tyrian strode past Sinti and Ryce, leaning out the opposite side and again shouting into the night. "Light!"

Moments passed with no response. Then, like bonfires springing to life, the other watchtowers began lighting up. Beams of irridescent light bloomed, projecting out into the surrounding darkness. They were but brief flashes, but provided enough illumination to make the area outside the walls momentarily visible.

The cry of alarm sounded instantly. Tyrian took an involuntary step back, rattled to the point of inaction. Sinti gasped, but Ryce was already scrambling back down to the ground.

"All men to arms!" The Libran Co-Captain's voice joined a rising din of commands suddenly being hurled through Windurst Woods. "Librans, rally to me! Move, move!"

Outside of Windurst, a writhing black mass surged forward. The whole of Secure's army was running towards the battered gates, preparing to smash them down once and for all. The skies were filled with the Kindred, the ground alive with the Vanguard and Nightmares. That was not even the worst of it. There were Behemoths. It had only taken one to smash down the wall and charge unimpeded into Windurst once. A spell so powerful that its two casters were still recuperating from the casting had been required to halt its advance that time.

Now there at least a dozen, moving with the Dynamis ranks, hulking brutes prepared to crush the Federation beneath them.

And there in their center, riding a dessicated dragon three times the size of the monsters they had been dealing with, was Secure himself. He was finally making his move to destroy the city and everyone in it.

Tyrian felt the air around him thicken, and turned to find Sinti weaving protective wards. Her eyes were filled with panic, but the Mithra was still performing her duty by instinct. The Ranger turned, facing once again towards the unstoppable horde rushing towards them.

He drew forth an arrow and nocked it in his bow. There was nothing left to do now but die fighting.


Meowolf stumbled up the stairs, breath wheezing as his chest seared with pain. He had finally caught up to Dieggo, but almost wished he hadn't when he saw why the Tarutaru had stopped.

"She's still alive," the Ariesian Captain said, taking two fingers from Kaita's throat. The Star Sibyl's top bodyguard was breathing shallowly, lying in a heap on the floor. Her scythe was embedded in the wall some distance away, and there were scorch marks on her armor. "These two weren't so lucky."

Two Patriarch Protectors were dead at Kaita's side. From the looks of their bodies, they never even had the chance to draw their weapons.

"Stop," Kaita coughed, then gave a spasm. "Stop her."

"Be still," Meowolf leaned down over her, ignoring the pain shooting through his legs. His magical prowess was severely limited, but Paladins were trained in the healing arts. As best he could, he channeled white magic into Kaita's weakened body. The Mithra's body steadied, as did her breathing. A moment later, she was unconscious again. She would live. Her companions would not.

Meowolf stood, head turning about desperately. Dieggo had already rushed ahead, and to the Galka's horror he saw the large door to the Star Sibyl's chamber blown from the hinges. Focusing through the agony ripping through him, he followed after.

He halted at the doorway, unwilling to believe what he was seeing.

Dieggo had his scythe drawn, a dark aura flaring up around him. The Captain's size belied the awesome destructive might he held in his tiny frame. Across the room was the Star Sibyl, the demure and elegant ruler of Windurst. A brilliant blue jewel hung from her neck, and she wore pale pink robes of the finest silk. Luxorious blue hair was intricately drawn up in a series of bands and bows. She looked like a beautiful porcelain doll in the waning light of her chamber. The image was brought home by the fact that she was being held above the ground in one arm by Cullen. The other arm was busy holding a knife to the Tarutaru's throat.

"Stay back!" Cullen shouted, her thick accent unmistakable.

"D-Dieggo . . ." The Star Sibyl started to say, but then gasped as Cullen pressed the knife in closer.

"If you hurt her, Cullen, if you so much as - " Dieggo's anger cut him off. He only snarled, taking a short step forward. Cullen dropped back, still holding the Star Sibyl tightly.

"No closer!" She warned. The floorboards around Dieggo's feet were blackened with the heat of the Dark Knight's aura as he pressed forward. Cullen defiantly pressed her knife down, and a trickle of blood began to drip from the Star Sibyl's throat.

"Cullen," the Galka intoned, spreading his hands out helplessly, "why?"

Her eyes flicked to Meowolf and went wide. She had not seen him enter the room until just then. The red-garbed Easterner let out a helpless whimper as she took another step backwards.

"Meowolf . . . " she cried in dismay. "No, don't watch, Meowolf . . . "

"Cullen," he took a step towards her, to which she hissed, clutching the Star Sibyl tightly. "Stop this, please. Why would you -"

"I cannot!" Cullen screamed, tears streaming down her face now. "I must do as my lord commands!"

"I'll kill you if you hurt her!" Dieggo snapped, his aura spiking violently.

"Let her go, Cullen!" Meowolf pleaded. "Put the knife down and stop this madness!"

Her eyes darted back and forth from face to face, indecision clearly wracking her mind. She appeared almost in physical pain as her face contorted in confusion and frustration. The Star Sibyl was helpless in her arms, but she could not bring herself to betray Meowolf right in front of him.

Overwhelmed, the Hume gave a plaintive scream, and threw her arm into the air. The ground at her feet burst upwards, wood chips and floorboards flying up in all directions. Dieggo cursed, throwing a ball of fire at her, but she was already gone.

The Dark Knight and the Paladin were already on her, diving for the hole she had made. Meowolf was surprised to find a spiral staircase leading down, the shadow of a fleeing Cullen still stretching out on the wall.

"This leads to . . . " Dieggo's voice faltered for a moment, but then his steely resolve returned. "After her!"

Without hestitation, Meowolf followed after the Ariesian Captain. His heart ached, for he knew what this meant.

They had to save the Star Sibyl. Even if that meant Cullen's death.