Chapter LCIII: Winter Closes In

"You know who I miss?" Danienne asked, leaning back in her chair as her boots rested upon the table. "I miss Tensaiji."

The others in the war room glanced her way, each looking up from their individual tasks. Baeladar, Odessa, and Rykoshet each looked at the Dark Knight, then at each other. While the room had been silent before, it was due only to each being lost in their own thoughts. Now it felt more pronounced as they struggled to find something to say. In the long months which had passed since the invasion of Dynamis into Vana'diel, they had seldom spoken of the comrades they lost.

Baeladar broke the silence, clearing his throat and slowly closing the cover on the heavy tome he had been perusing. "Yes," he said quietly at first, but then louder, "yes, Tensaiji was quite a skilled Ninja. His talents are sorely missed."

"Nah, I'm not talking about that, Bael." Danienne leaned forward, her feet stomping down on the ground as she swept them off the table. "I mean his personality. That guy was too much. And what was the name of that goof that was always tagging along with him?"

"Heikujin," Odessa said, a faint smile on her lips. "Sometimes that guy didn't know one end of his sword from the other, but he and Tensaiji together were like a comedy duo. Always . . ." she trailed off.

"Ahh, I miss having that around." Danienne rested her arms against the table now, staring off into space. "Everyone is so grim these days. Having Tensaiji around would sure be a welcome change."

"Or Kayana," Baeladar added. "Everything was a new opportunity to that woman, a chance to explore and discover something unknown. I freely admit, my research would be greatly aided by her expertise. She would no doubt see this entire event as a . . . as a great experiment."

"And Demyn," Danienne gave a chortle, "how could we forget Demyn? I can't believe he's not around anymore. Hey, did you know his real name is "Bongo?"

"What?" Odessa sat straight up in her chair. "Where did you hear that?"

"He told me once when he was drunk. He and Forge were out celebrating after that time we took down that gigantic beetle in Batallia Downs and he let it slip."

"My, that was ages ago, it seems," Baeladar mused. "Not very long after we all first got together."

"Yeah . . . " Danienne's smile began to fade, and silence crept in once more. "We sure lost a lot of friends, didn't we? A lot of people . . . "

"Stop that," they all looked up as Rykoshet spoke. Unlike the other three, he was standing perched by the room's sole window, gazing outside. He turned his head to face them, dark eyes glittering. "I told you what Fill said. We're not alone. There are others out there, survivors like us, and I have to believe that our friends are among them." He returned his gaze to the contemplation of Meriphataud Mountains. "We'll find them. I'm certain of it."

Though he knew it was just past noon, the skies outside were darker than late evening. The sun was frustratingly visible behind the pall of Dynamis, almost totally hidden behind the impenetrable veil. It hung in the sky, a gray blob providing scant warmth and less light to the planet starving for its attention below. With winter settling in, they were in for a harsh time as the temperatures began to fall. Already frost was forming on the rocks outside, and what vegetation there was had shriveled up. The hot and dusty landscape they had come to all those months ago was slowly transforming into a frozen waste.

Rykoshet stared for quite some time out at nothing before turning away. The view was depressing, and there was quite enough of that to be had indoors. Unconsciously, his eyes fell on Odessa. She was buried in a musty textbook which had been brought by the Jeunoans, hiding her face. The whole time he had known her, that smooth and lineless face, marked by classical Elvaan features, had borne little more upon it than a half-amused smirk or a twist of annoyance. In the weeks since her excursion to Crawler's Nest, however, it was instead marred by barely suppressed pain.

With the discussion of lost companions brought up, he knew she was once again thinking about Middlesky and Eig.

"So," he cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him again, "what have we found out today?"

"Precious little, I am afraid," Baeladar closed the book he was reading, setting it down on the table. "Those volumes which even do mention Dynamis only do so in terms of myth. I have found no existing accounts of actual research into the realm."

Danienne let the pages of the book she was reading fold over one finger to maintain her place. "Darkness, demons; all of this tells us nothing we don't already know."

"Then why," Rykoshet hammered his fists down on the stone table, "why would anyone do this?" He directed the question at no one in particular. "What's the point? What's the goal?"

"We've been at this for weeks," Odessa rubbed her eyes, leaning her head into her hands. They all shared the same consternation. "Whatever they hope to gain, it's not written in any of these books."

It was true. After the events at Pso'Xja, they had attacked the Yagudo library. Everything the Beastmen had to offer up on Dynamis was brought to them, as well as the few books which had been brought with the Jeunoan refugees. The four of them had worked tirelessly, pouring over the tomes in a relentless search for the slightest clue as to their malefactor's goal. Despite all their efforts, they were no closer to finding out the truth now than they had been when they started. The only difference is now they had lost two good friends.

Three, Rykoshet reminded himself, remembering that day weeks ago when his Master had arrived and taken Battousai away.

No sooner had they returned from Pso'Xja than their Master appeared, miraculously surviving the chaotic ordeal sweeping the land. It was no joyful reunion, however. His demands and the urgency behind them were severe. In the end, it was decided that Battousai would accompany him in his mission, and thus Rykoshet's brother bid farewell to them all and left Oztroja behind.

In all the time since then, it felt like they had done nothing but wait. No new clues, no messages from the outside. Only constant study, all the while feeling like caged rats. It was maddening.

"Alright, put the books away." He wearily pulled a chair out and slumped down next to Odessa. "We're getting nowhere. Maybe I'll go talk to Fill again and see if he's found anything . . . "

Baeladar scoffed. "You will forgive me, I'm sure, if I am skeptical of our friend the North Wind's desire to aid us at this point. It seems all the man has done since his arrival here is putter about the castle making small talk." The Paladin rubbed his hands together, his eyes hooded. "I highly doubt he will be a font of new information."

"Rykoshet's right, though," Danienne leaned back in her chair again, looking out the window. "We aren't getting anything accomplished here. We all have other duties to attend to. Decay and Konstantine can take over for us here and let us know if they come up with anything."

"Decay's in the lower chamber with the Magicite, though," Odessa reminded her. "He's been spending all his time trying to find a way to utilize it ever since . . . " she halted, biting her lip. "Ever since I . . . "

They all knew what she was trying to say. Ever since she returned from Crawler's Nest.

"Odessa," Rykoshet reached out his hand towards her shoulder. He was just about to console her when they all leaped at the sound of the door bursting open.

A crushing wave of sheer malevolence hit them so hard that Danienne made a short retching sound, and Odessa physically doubled over. Baeladar drew his sword, aiming it at the door as the tide of hatred passed over them.

"What is this - " Rykoshet demanded, and then stopped short, letting out a scream.

Vile stood in the doorway, looking at the four of them with a distinctly unamused expression.

"Aren't you all just hi-goddamn-larious." He stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him with a gust of arcane wind. The other four, in the process of sitting back down, stopped where they were.

"Vile," Odessa breathed, "you can speak!"

The Tarutaru rubbed his throat with an annoyed expression. When they had returned from their adventure in the frozen north, his vocal cords had been severely damaged by the same fire which had burned most of his body. In the time since then he had said nothing, staying mostly in his room and opening the door only to receive food. Though he wore his customary thick black robes, Rykoshet could still see traces of the burns he suffered beneath his collar. Several times Lethe had attempted to heal him, only to be turned away brusquely by the Tarutaru.

"Yeah, I can, so shut up," he marched towards the table, stopping in front of Baeladar and staring at him. The Elvaan shifted uncomfortably in his chair for a moment, trying to avoid Vile's eyes. After a moment he stood, extending the seat to the sorcerer.

"Ah, won't you sit down, Vile?" He smiled.

The Tarutaru climbed into the seat, standing up so he could see over the table and slapping his palms down upon it. "So? What have you found out?"

Rykoshet scowled at him. "We would have told you if anything came up. Don't antagonize us."

"Hmph," he frowned. "Then I'll tell you what they're after."

"What?" Odessa nearly fell out of her chair, and Danienne's eyes went wide. "You mean you know?"

"There was a person there," Vile stated darkly. "What did you idiots think happened? I tripped into a snowbank made of fire? I got into a fight."

"Who could do that to you?" Danienne's question was a legitimate one. Vile was undoubtedly one of the most powerful mages walking Vana'diel. The thought of another wizard being able to best him in magical combat was practically unheard of.

Vile's lip curled back into a snarl of revulsion. "His name is Attack. He's the one who killed our Master, twenty years ago."

"Our" Master?" Baeladar raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"The useless shit wasn't smart enough to learn, so he took some shortcuts," Vile avoided directly answering the Paladin's question, and wisely, nobody pressed the issue. "So I can tell you if he's involved then whatever the method, the end result is power. Personal power, the kind you can wield against others and feel in your blood. If it were anything else, he wouldn't be involved."

"Hmm," this time, Baeladar's look was far off, and a finger and thumb pressed against his chin in contemplation. "That does little to bring us closer to the truth, I'm afraid. If there were some degree of power to be gained by releasing Dynamis, our research has turned up no hint as to what that might be."

"It's something," Rykoshet pushed his seat back, standing and facing Vile. "And that's more than we had before. Thank you, Vile."

"Just remember," the Tarutaru said warningly, "when it comes down to it, I'm the one who gets to kill Attack."

"Permission granted." Running a hand through his blond hair, Rykoshet drew his hands down behind his back. "I'm going to take this to Fill and see if it changes anything. Meeting dismissed." Pausing at the door, he took his heavy fur cloak down from where it had been hanging. "If you need me, you know how to get in touch." With a wink, he held up the linkshell strung around his neck.

The recovery of their lost shell had been an instant boost to morale. In addition to the obvious tactical advantages it provided, simply being connected in that way once more brought the entire group closer. Just by touching the shell, Rykoshet could hear there were conversations going back and forth throughout the castle. It was a reminder of how things had been before the catastrophic invasion of Dynamis, and a welcome one. Having their linkpearls back made everyone feel that much more like a family.

Stepping out of the war room, he shivered against the chill wind which assailed him. The tower the room was in could only be accessed by way of a bridge linking it to the castle proper. Winter's teeth bit into him as he drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Without sunlight, the weather went from poor to unbearable. It was with relief that he reached the steps leading back down into Oztroja's stone walls, and the torchlight within.

His mind drifted momentarily to his brother, and he wondered where he was in the midst of all this misery. Quickly, he dispelled such thoughts. It didn't matter where he went as long as their Master was with him. That was a guarantee to his safety.

Before too long, Rykoshet was back amongst the regular hustle and bustle which had become a part of daily life in Oztroja. Despite the enormity of the castle, activity had found its way to nearly every part of it. Soldiers patrolled the halls, going to or from one drill to the next. Regular citizens gathered around the outdoor areas to converse or let their children play. Some visited the clutches of stalls bunched together, as commerce had found away to survive the cataclysm. Merchants amongst the Jeunoan refugees along with Yagudo traders had begun consorting almost immediately after the rescue from Garlaige Citadel. Now the walls were lined with roughly constructed booths where all kinds of merchandise was displayed. Though gil was still acceptable from those who had it, barter systems had come to dominate the tiny business world of Castle Oztroja. With the weather turning bad, many were starting to shut down their uncomfortable outdoor stands, choosing instead to move inside the castle itself.

Walking past the central hall, he caught sight of Liyah and Darutaru together with a group of wide-eyed children, demonstrating the use of magic. A few of them tried to emulate their teachers without any luck, save for a Yagudo fledgling that was able to make a spark fly from its fingers. Upon doing so, however, it leaped back with a cry, despite the other children marveling at its ability. There were Elvaan and Hume children and a single young Galka sitting and learning alongside Yagudo. The sight made him smile, if only a little.

This was not the only exchange of culture. It was not uncommon these days to find General Wolfgang and Lieutenant Raidom sharing strategy sessions with Quu Domi and Mee Deggi. Konstantine had begun attending regular sermons by Daa Bola the Seer, learning more about the Yagudo religion. Not only that, but afterwards the White Mage would often gather with religious scholars from both Jeuno and Oztroja and host sessions in which common ground between Altanan philosophy and the Yagudo scriptures was discussed. Fated sometimes attended these when he wasn't busy training with the strict and unforgiving Yagudo Ascetics, they at least seeming unconcerned with the weather.

Through his linkshell, he could hear Celeres, somewhere in the castle, sharing bawdy jokes with Atin and Esane. He felt somewhat sorry for the latter two. Decay had insisted guards be posted around the magicite around the clock, and in an act of charity he was sure they came to regret, they volunteered. Now for a third of each day they waited and watched the Red Mage stare at a rock and take notes. It was hardly the most appealing job in the world, but Rykoshet supposed they could take solace in the fact that they were safe, at least.

Betrayil and Hiraiko he knew he would not see. Since their return from Pso'Xja, the Summoner spent almost all of her time training with the Astral Signa or in the dungeon, talking with Tzee Xicu. Her change in attitude since the adventure made her seem like an entirely different person. Betrayil was never far from her side, and together they often vanished into the mountains for days at a time. He hoped that situation would work out for the best, but for now it was just something he had to tolerate in the face of so much else going on.

Moving away from the central hub of the castle, Rykoshet made his way up the long stone stairs which led to Fill's room. He had, naturally, selected one of the highest towers of Oztroja as his residence. He did, as Baeladar had bemoaned, spend most of his time wandering aimlessly, conversing with random people in the Castle. He might one day be engrossed in conversation with Doctor Monbereaux for hours about medicine, and then the next appear in the mess hall to talk with thirty different people about meatballs. One thing was certain; the North Wind was as enigmatic as ever.

To his surprise, halfway up the stairs to Fill's room, he was greeted by a familiar face.

"Greetings," Lethe lowered his head in welcome. "How does the day find you?"

"Hello, Lethe," he greeted the so-called herald of the Four Winds. "I'm surviving."

"You are fortunate," the blond-bearded man observed. "You are searching for the North Wind, are you not?"

"Yes, did he tell you that? One of his premonitions told him I'd come to visit him today? Or did the wind whisper it to him as soon as I made the decision?"

"You were touching your linkshell when you made the announcement," Lethe told him, pointing to the pink shell strung about his neck. "Everybody heard you say it."

"Oh," he looked down at the tiny object, strung around its leather cord. "Right, I'm uh, still kind of not used to having it back."

Lethe allowed a smile to touch his lips. "Think nothing of it. Lord Fill asked me to escort you to him. Come," folding his arms inside the voluminous sleeves of his white robes, he turned. "Follow me."

Fill was not in his room, sparing an arduous climb up the spiraling stairs of Castle Oztroja. To Rykoshet's chagrin, however, he was outside, smiling as the freezing winds assailed him. Standing on a bridge between towers like the one outside the war room, the North Wind waited as the wind blew through his thick brown beard, the folds of his elaborate green robes brushing back and forth. When he saw Rykoshet approaching, he gave a broad smile, extending his arms in welcome.

"Fabulous day today, is it not?" He asked as the Elvaan struggled to wrap his cloak around him like a blanket. "If only there were a bit more sun, it would be perfect."

"It's miserable," Rykoshet said bluntly. "I don't suppose you could do anything about this, could you?"

"The wind moves as the wind wants, Rykoshet," the wizard replied. "I'd sooner try to stop the tides or quell a raging volcano."

"Both of those things were done recently, according to Lethe," Rykoshet jabbed a finger at the herald, then immediately drew it back inside the confines of his cloak.

"And they were disastrous! I'd very much hate to be the one responsible once the South Wind gets his hands on them."

"The South Wind?" He blinked, looking back and forth from Fill to Lethe.

"Of course, but he's a topic for another time. The winds tell me you have something to ask." He extended his arms, palms facing the sky. "I shall answer as best I am able."

Vile's words were on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason they seemed substantially less important after his walk through the castle. "In a minute," he said, "first, I have to know; what are you doing here?"

Fill quirked an eyebrow upwards. "I'm afraid I do not understand. Here? I am enjoying the breeze."

"No, here in the Castle. It's been three weeks already and all you've done is wander around Oztroja or stand out in the wind. What are you up to?"

"Up to?" He seemed perplexed, but after a moment realization dawned on his face followed by another smile. "Ah, I see. I am a powerful wizard, and therefore my actions must have powerful meaning, correct? Or if they do not, I am squandering my ability by not using it for the greater good. Am I close to the mark?"

"That is more or less the series of complaints against you, yes." Rykoshet shivered, stamping his feet a few times to get his blood moving. "Don't get me wrong, Fill, you can do whatever you want for all I care. But it's been bothering other people so I figured I would ask."

The North Wind turned away from Rykoshet, staring out into the horizon of Meriphataud Mountains. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as the gusts of frigid air assailed him, whistling through Oztroja's parapets. Opening them again, he was reflective, still watching the landscape as he spoke.

"Before the seals on Dynamis were broken, I lived alone in Pso'Xja. Lethe would travel between my brothers and I and carry messages, but that was the extent of my contact with the outside world. We have no linkshell, we spend no excessive power on communication. We are bound to our work, and that work binds us to our homes. I have been the North Wind since before you were born, since before your Master, likely since before his Master." Slowly, he turned one eye back to Rykoshet, its look speculative. "This is the first time in all those years I have been in a place with so many people and so many things to talk about. This is the first time I have had conversations where I may speak rather than simply listening to the wind. When we restore the seals and turn back this darkness, I will have to return to that place and resume my work. Until that time comes, I intend to enjoy this newfound freedom." For a moment, a hint of sadness touched his serene face. "I had been training Rennie as my replacement, but . . . that is hardly a possibility now."

As he turned back to Rykoshet, his face resumed the light and easy smile it had worn before. "Now then, does that answer your question?"

He nodded. The admission had hardly been what he expected.

"Good, good," Fill folded his hands within his robes, similar to Lethe's stance. "So, what was it you came here to ask me in the first place?"

Rykoshet stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, remembering. "Right, sorry." He recalled Vile's words carefully, and then spoke. "Vile regained his voice today. He came in to tell us what happened to him in Pso'Xja."

"I'd been curious about that," Fill stroked his beard. "He seemed to know more about the situation than I did."

"The one who attacked you . . . well, Attack is his name. And Vile knows him. By "knows him" I mean "wants to kill him."

"Vile knows many people, then." Lethe observed.

"Even so," Fill appeared contemplative. "Attack . . . the winds whispered this to me, but I thought it perhaps simply an objective. So, that was his name. Very well, what does Vile have to say on the matter?"

"They're after power." He stood up a little straighter, the winds not so bad for the moment. "Vile seems to think that if there weren't actual physical power on the line, Attack wouldn't be involved. So whatever the reason for unsealing Dynamis, it has to do with that. Does that give you any kind of clue as to what we're dealing with?"

"Several," the wizard answered. "Dynamis is the World of Nightmares, the realm of Diabolos himself. The revelation at Pso'Xja from your Summoner that Diabolos has left the Shrouded Maw at a time like this has been troubling me. Now I wonder if perhaps even he was imprisoned, as we discovered Fenrir to be."

"Is that even possible?" Rykoshet asked, incredulous.

Fill shook his head. "I can believe anything in these times, and especially of this enemy. In any event, Dynamis is the power of dreams made real. If one were able to harness that . . . well, I will research the matter and let you know my findings. It could very well lead to a clue which reveals their next objective to us."

"Thank you," he nodded, then shuddered as another gust of wind suddenly rushed past. "Alright, that's all I wanted. I'm getting back indoors where it's warm."

"I'm afraid the cold is the least of our worries," Fill said, peering out over the battlements once again. "The wind is speaking."

"What is - " Rykoshet stopped as the linkshell around his neck suddenly pulsed. Startled, he wrapped his hand around it, and instantly Celeres's voice reached his pointed ears.

"Rykoshet?" The Monk was repeating. "Rykoshet, are you there?"

"I can hear you," he spoke into the shell, "what's the problem?"

"We just got a report from the field, Rykoshet," his tone was terse. "There's a hunter here that says Icon sent him. They saw something out there."

"What is it?" He realized he was moving quickly, heading back inside the castle. "Where's Icon? What did he find?"

"Icon's alright, they're all fine, but they're laying low until it's safe." There was a pause and Celeres drew breath, preparing for what he said next. "There's an army out there, Rykoshet. And it's heading this way."