Chapter CII: The Ninja in Winter

Clenching the thick animal hides he wore tightly around himself, Bongo bit down to keep his teeth from chattering. The air in the dark wasteland around them was already freezing cold, with the wind whipping past him it made it feel like tiny needles of ice were slicing against his skin. One glance at his companions told him the situation was similar for all of them.

Dantrag was keeping a stoic face, but his whole body shivered as they marched forward. Right beside him, Hubby was completely wrapped in his fur cloak, bunching it around his face to keep all but his eyes concealed. Luma was making no such effort to conceal her discomfort, stamping her feet and letter her teeth chatter. The Mithra's tail was wrapped around her waist like a belt as she rapidly rubbed her arms.

"C-C-Can we g-go back t-t-t-to the desert n-now?" She asked through clenched fangs.

"We're almost there," Hubby urged her on, wrapping a bit of his cloak around her. "Qwid, can't you keep us warm?"

In their midst, the Tarutaru shook his head. "That army down there is too close," he warned. "They'll sense my magic and then we'll be toastaru." The Red Mage had his scarf wrapped tightly around his face, yet still traces of frozen breath escaped when he spoke. "Best I can do is try to keep the wind off us."

"Don't give up yet, people," Bongo stepped out in front of them. "Oztroja's in sight. We're not going to let some bad weather stop us now."

"Are you s-s-s-sure?" Luma complained, but she continued stepping forward anyway.

The frozen peaks of Meriphataud Mountains stretched out, encompassing them in a tomb of frigid air. With the skies blackened and the landscape concealed in frost, Bongo's senses as a Ranger were the only thing that had brought them this far. The journey from San d'Oria had not been an easy one. As miserable as the weather was, it was not even the worst they had seen. Around Jeuno it was coldest, darkest, and the most unforgiving, with parts of the sea freezing around the enormous floating bridges upon which the city was suspended. They had stayed clear of the demon-infested city, but trouble had still found them on more than one occasion. Those were isolated instances, however, nothing more than ill timing and happenstance. Now there was an army in the valley below, and the slightest misstep could spell disaster.

The presence of the force beneath them was more than a little terrifying. Ever since they had put Jeuno out of sight, they had found traces of the legions which had gone out ahead of them. The troubling signs of beastman activity had grown with every day, and before long it became clear where the Orcs in Fort Ghelsba had disappeared to.

Batallions of armored greenskinned beastmen filled the valley beneath them. They marched in strictly ordered lines, divided by function. Their armored soldiers stood in the front, steel and leather covering every inch of them. Their metal masks were crafted to look like fearsome tusked beasts, and they all held stout wooden shields with a layer of leather pulled taut over them. Behind the enormous hulks of the front line, their warriors were waiting. Spears, swords, scythes, and all other manner of weapon sprouted from their ranks, looking as grim and deadly as the beastmen holding them. Still behind them were the archers, hundreds of them, sporting quivers filled with thousands of deadly arrows waiting to shower down on their foes. More than that though, it was easy to see that mixed in with each unit was an Orc wearing a mask, or perhaps more accurately a hood, made of animal skin and marked red with what was probably not paint. These stocky irregulars were not arranged like the rest, but wandered free amongst the Orcish forces, stamping the ground with their oaken staves as they passed. The mages, versed in the blackest of spells, ready to rain fire and lightning at the slightest provocation.

Legions of Orcs would be enough to contend with. However, even they, the fiercest, most ruthless of the beastmen on the continent, were only third in the organization of the army below them. They were the barbaric core, and surrounding them was what could very appropriately be called a shell. The Quadav had come out from their caves, and the enormous turtle-like beastmen wrapped around the Orcish forces, surrounding them with a barrier of steel-like plates and armored scales. The Orcs were relentless in their onslaughts, raised to be unstoppable machines on the battlefield. The Quadav, on the other hand, seldom took the offensive. Instead they practiced an impenetrable defense, one which had kept the entirety of the Bastokan military from moving them out of the mines they had occupied for over twenty years.

The Orcs and Quadav marched side-by-side, forming a bristling forest of weapons. They were beginning the halt to their daily advance, and a river of fire was flowing where they set up camp. Illuminated in that glow was the third aspect of their formidable gathering. Colorless skin and clothing made them all but shadows in the pall of Dynamis, but as the army settled in the Vanguard began to take shape. Surrounding the other beastmen, their blackened counterparts from inside the World of Nightmares were living up to their name. They were the front lines, the spearhead to pierce whatever target they were aimed at. Of the Vanguard, there was a mixed amount of Orcs, Quadav, and Goblins as well, larger and more fearsome by far than those Vana'diel was used to contending with.

As if that were not enough, the Kindred were flying with them. Darting in and out of their ranks, sometimes walking amongst them, but more often flying above on leathery wings. Were the sky not already black, they would have darkened it with their presence. Bongo's senses, attuned sharply to nature, told him the demons were there by way of a sickening clench in the pit of his stomach.

For days they had traveled behind the multitudes, slinking in the shadows, moving as much as possible without attracting attention to themselves. They had started out miles behind them, with only the glow from their fires at night marking their presence. Now they were literally right on top of them, and hoped to overtake the horde and leave them behind soon. Though passing through the treacherous mountain slopes of Meriphataud made travel slow, the five of them were still far more mobile than the ungainly army filling the valley. They gained a little more ground every hour, and though the march seemed endless, they soldiered on.

Now their destination was in sight. Looming over the horizon, visible even in the darkness, were the spires of Castle Oztroja. Their friends were in there, somehow impossibly alive in the Yagudo stronghold.

"Almost there," Bongo told them, pressing onward even as the cold bit into him. "They'll have a fire going for us when we get there."

"And beer," Dantrag added, "beer must have survived the end of the world, don't you think?"

"Undoubtedly," Hubby offered from beside him, smiling as best he could through chapped, blue lips. "That'll put the warmth back in our bellies."

"Fire and beer, and our friends," Bongo summed up. "That's enough to keep me going for a few more miles."

"I d-d-d-don't k-know your friends," Luma complained. "Introd-ductions are w-warming, yes?"

"They will be," Hubby assured her. Turning his eye back to the castle, his look turned wistful. "Which . . . who else do you think made it?" His question was directed to the air, but the other three members of the linkshell all picked up on it.

"Tensaiji, without a doubt," Bongo asserted. "He's the best Ninja in the world, no way the demons got him."

"If Tensaiji made it, then Dorobounin made it," Dantrag said as he carefully scaled down a depression in the rocks. "I wouldn't be surprised if those two are right below us, scouting these guys for Rykoshet."

"Rykoshet," Bongo chuckled, "he's definitely waiting for us in there. Bastard's too dumb to get himself killed, no matter how much he tries."

"Don't forget Meowolf and Forge," Qwid put in as he hurried to catch up with them. "That pair is as invincible as these mountaruins."

"So Tensaiji and Dorobounin, Meowolf and Forge, and our fearless leader himself," Hubby was still looking out at the castle. "Not a bad lot. Not bad at all."

"C-c-c-can't w-w-wait to m-m-meet them," Luma replied, still shivering.

"How can you be so cold?" Qwid frowned at her. "You're the one here with fur."

"Tshaya is t-t-t-tropical," the Samurai explained. "I'm m-more used t-t-to sweating."

"Well think warm thoughts," Bongo ordered her. "Only a little bit longer and - "

They stopped in their tracks. Their eyes fixed on Oztroja, far in the distance. Luma hissed sharply as Qwid visibly flinched. Far below them, an unsettling murmur rose up from beastmen ranks. They would have said something themselves had the next sight not struck them dumb.

A tower of black flame had erupted in front of Oztroja, spiraling into the sky and forming a writhing, impure mass of power. The wave of force which swept over them doubled Qwid over and made Bongo's knees buckle, despite the epicenter being miles away. An eerie, unsettling wail swept past them on the wind, but was quickly overpowered by an explosion that shook the ground all the way out to the mountains.

"What's happening?" Dantrag demanded, tearing his axes free from his belt.

"This power, it's . . . " Qwid bit his lower lip, as if unsure whether he should say more. "Bongo, can you feel anything?"

The ground was shaking beneath him, but the Ranger managed to cast his senses out into nature, grasping for some sense of where this impossible force was emanating from. After a few moments, he shook his head, clasping on to the rocks for dear life. "We're too far away, and there's too much interference from the beastmen. I can't see what's out there."

"We've been following this army the whole time," Hubby protested, "they never had an advance troop. How can they be attacking already? And what kind of power is . . . "

"That's no army," Qwid told him, a shred of fear quavering in his voice. "This feeling is . . . is coming from one person."

They stared at him, and then back out at Castle Oztroja. The pillar of black fire was dying down, but the sensation it left still chilled their souls. What was more, every few seconds were punctuated by another explosion loud enough to rattle the rocks on the ground at their feet.

"We've got to hurry," Bongo told them. "They need our help, right now."

"Let's go!" Dantrag rushed out ahead of them, breaking for a narrow path leading down the mountain's face.

He took three long strides, and then slowed. A moment later he stopped altogether, slowly raising his hand up.

It was about to touch his neck when a spray of blood erupted from it, staining the frozen ground at their feet as the Elvaan's body toppled over.

"Dantrag!" Hubby shouted, rushing towards him. He almost made it before he cried out, the chain mail links over his arms falling away as he screamed. Blood was gushing from his forearms, which now hung limply at his side.

Bongo spun as he heard the familiar clang of metal on metal, and turned to find Luma with her great katana half-drawn, another blade cutting into it.

"Fast," she marveled, "t-t-too fast for Luma."

Something dropped down into the snow, too fast for the eye to follow. Luma's weapon snapped in half, shards of steel raining down from its shattered length. The Mithra clenched her shoulder, pulling her hand away to reveal a cut which went straight through her armor.

"Not too fast for Bongo," the Ranger growled, and in the same breath an arrow flew from the bow he had suddenly drawn.

It stopped in midair before falling, sliced in half. In that time, the Hume had already fired three more. Two sailed off into the mountains, scratching the rocks as they fell, but one froze, hanging suspended in mid-flight. Bongo narrowed his eyes and let another arrow loose, directly towards the first.

The original arrow spun forward, deflecting the second, and both were cast away. Bongo stood watching the empty space but a few paces from him, another arrow already nocked in the bow Hubby had given him. He silently cursed himself for breaking his own. If he'd had his own weapon, he knew he could have hit his mark.

While it might have been too fast for the others to see, his senses had their attacker's location pinned down. He knew without a doubt that right now he had an arrow aimed at the heart of whatever it was.

"Hubby," he said quietly, "are you alright?"

"Can't . . . move my arms," he said through clenched teeth. "Dantrag," he spat out, "Dantrag is dying."

"Qwid, heal him, quickly." He stretched back his bowstring, daring the attacker to move. "Luma, you can walk?"

"Blood is warming," she replied, slowly making her way behind him, sliding against the face of the rock wall.

Bongo let his eyes dart down, and then back up. If they had been spotted by the horde below, there was no sign of it. They were likely transfixed by whatever was happening at Oztroja.

"Good," he told them, "everybody get out of here."

"But - !" Qwid protested.

"NOW!" He barked back, letting another arrow fly. It bounced harmlessly off a rock, but another was already in his string, and then off again. This time there was the sound of something tearing before it again struck a rock, sparks showering the ground.

A haze appeared in the air, like if smoke were to assume a solid form. There were hands and arms there, legs and a body, and two red eyes which stared menacingly towards the Ranger. However, they were almost as incorporeal as the air itself, giving only the vague impression of a human being. One thing that appeared perfectly solid, however, was the blade gripped in the assassin's fist.

Fury swelled up in Bongo's eyes as he saw that weapon.

"Everybody, go, now," he whispered coolly.

"Here," Luma let the still-gasping Dantrag lean against her, supporting his massive frame as he clutched at the freshly-healed scar on his throat. She looked back at Bongo, a fang slipping past her lip. "I will say hello to your friends for you, Bongo."

"Thanks, Luma," he said sternly, "but I'll be able to speak for myself."

The hazy form moved forward, but Bongo dashed to the side, arrows flying from his quiver like rain. He kept it pinned back, eyes watching without any change in emotion. No matter how straight he shot, the figure was too quick to be hit, save for the single tear on what looked like his sleeve. Dodging Bongo's barrage, however, was enough to keep it away from the others.

"Bongo," Hubby called back to him, "be safe."

"Just hurry," he growled.

The shade in front of him made no move to stop them. Bongo kept his arrow trained on the form until the sound of their footsteps could no longer reach his ears.

"Now then," the Ranger snarled once he was sure they were gone, "you are going to tell me where you got that katana."

Emerging from the haze, a hand stretched forth. Slowly, the form started to harden and take a more definitive form. The smoke cleared away, drifting off with the wind until a man wrapped entirely in black stood before him. The blood of his friends had already frozen to the midnight blue weapon in his hand.

"Kikoku," Bongo did not hold back his rage. "That belongs to Tensaiji. Where did you get it?"

The red-eyed man said nothing, but took a step forward.

"Tell me, dammit!" An arrow sliced through the air. Quick as a whip, the Ninja lanced his hand downwards, and the two halves of the projectile fell harmlessly to either side. Just like that, he came forward, but Bongo was already moving. His hand quickly yanked his own dagger free, the edge of Kikoku scraping against it. Shards of metal were shaved off where the two blades touched.

Another arrow flew from his quiver to the bow, his hands a blur as he loosed them at his target. The ground was dotted with shafts sticking up from the freezing ground, but the Ninja effortlessly moved through them, stretching his blade out towards Bongo again. He could feel it cut the air as he barely managed to evade the strike. Before he even regained his balance, the Ninja was attacking again, slicing down with Kikoku in a taut arc. Bongo rolled towards him, letting the blade strike the ground as he kicked up in the air. The black-garbed man twisted to avoid the blow, giving Bongo time to pull himself free from Kikoku's range.

He had no time to breath before the attack resumed. The assailant was relentless, and even the attacks which missed left rends in his leather jerkin. The merest slice of Tensaiji's katana was enough to cut anything, and even a close call was still dangerous.

Bongo decided he was having none of it. Rushing forward, he pulled one of his daggers free, letting the Ninja counter the stroke with his own weapon. The dagger shattered like glass against Kikoku's power, but in the time it took to do that, Bongo grabbed hold of the Ninja's arm. He pulled the smaller man forward with all his might, and with a snarl he drove his head directly into his nose.

The next sensation he felt was the air rushing from his lungs as a foot was planted in his gut. He doubled over, giving the Ninja the opportunity to wrest his arm free. As he sliced upwards, Bongo gave a yelp of surprise, pulling back to find his cheek cut open. Grimly, he stared at the black-garbed figure.

"I'm going to take that katana from your dead body," he promised, "and give it back to my friend."

"I must end this," the red-eyed man said. His voice was muffled from behind his mask, and lilted in the way only someone just struck in the nose sounds. "Goodbye."

"You son of a - "

Bongo's yell was cut short as the Ninja sliced through the air. A wave of darkness rushed over him, darkness so thick and powerful that he couldn't breathe. It wrapped around him, suffocating him, wringing the life from his body. The entire world seemed to be going dark, twisting and shuddering horribly, transforming into something . . . evil.

His struggles to break free were quickly silenced as even the Ninja faded from view, leaving only the endless abyss to swallow Bongo away from the world of Vana'diel.