Chapter LXXXV: Agendas, Part Two

Murky and gray, Caedarva Mire was far from a popular attraction of the Empire of Aht Urhgan. Not only was it an unappealing bog filled with vicious insects, at some points the swamp was so thick it could actually swallow a person whole. Parts of the ground which appeared solid to the untrained eye could lead to sinkholes from which there was no escape. Innumerable dead shared unmarked graves in the thick, stagnant waters of Caedarva. Every so often, swelling gases or earthquakes would release these bodies back to the surface. This revolting sight prompted citizens of Nashmau, which stood just on the cusp of the shining Silver Seas and the dull, deadly swamp, to often refer to the area as "Cadaver Mire."

The dangerous environment was only half the problem. With such limited presence by the Empire, the Merrow thrived in the brackish waters, and Lamiae freely roamed the land. Called forth by their power, the ravenous undead remained on endless patrol, waiting for any sign of life so that they might cut it down. Perhaps more ominous than all were the Imps, declared by some to be messengers of the Dark Lord himself, flitting about on their tiny wings, in greater numbers than any other place in Aht Urhgan.

Doshu took a deep breath of the foul air, and smiled. It was good to be home.


His feet glided above the aqueous surface of the mire, never quite touching the thick muck. The Shadow Mantle on his back fluttered as he moved, absorbing the surrounding light and leaving a streak of black. Annihilator was a constant pulse at his side, waiting to have its power released. He appreciated the weapon's thirst for battle. Should a tool not strive to be the best at its specific purpose? Just like him, he thought. He only wanted to do that which was meant to do.

As his thoughts gracefully wove around his elegant plan, he stopped in front of his guests, giving a bow of his head in acknowledgment.


"Good evening, Medusa," he said with a smile. The snakewoman towered above him, her hips gently swaying back and forth. Her scaly flesh glittered in the moonlight, creating the image of a host of fireflies dancing beneath her skin. She gazed at him with fiendish red eyes, the snakes which comprised her hair slithering and hissing as he drew closer. "How does the evening find you?"

"I wonder at this game you play, Dark One," the Queen of the Lamiae sounded more bemused than anything. "You are unlike the other two-legs." She slithered closer to him, her shoulders rolling as she lowered her head to face him eye-to-eye. "Would you like to be my pet, Dark One?"

Doshu extended his hands. "I am flattered, Medusa, but I am afraid I must decline. There's far too much yet to do."

She watched him for a moment, her expression imperceptible, and then reared back up to her full height, making a single lazy gesture with one hand. One of her undead drauger lumbered forward, carrying with it a small bundle wrapped in cloth. "It will amuse me to see what you do next. Is our business complete?"

Doshu carefully accepted the offering, cradling it in one arm. "It is. I must depart at once. Thank you, dread Queen. You have not let me down."

"Complete? Complete! We are far from complete!" Doshu turned an eye in mild surprise to find the Moblin Megomak making his way up to the knoll where he and Medusa stood. The Moblin stood only as high as his waist, and was completely covered in a patchwork of leather clothes and red plated armor. A mask filtered his air, and a pair of scratched goggles wrapped on a cloth band concealed his eyes. The beastman was obviously in a huff, breath wheezing through the mask as he closed in on Doshu, tiny fists waving in consternation.

"Gurfurlur is dead! Do you have any idea how long it will take to make a new one? To find a suitable Troll? To pay for the surgeries? To find the right spells? This is disastrous! My mercenary army is in disarray!" He stamped up and down once, then angrily pulled his feet free of the ground when they sank into it. Instead he lanced a finger Doshu's way. "This is your fault, Imperial. You should pay for this, not me!"

"Megomak," He kept his voice steady. There was no reason to waste energy on this creature. "you were quite well-compensated already for your role, and you carried out your task as well as I could have expected. Please do not try my patience."

He expelled an angry huff. "What about her?" He jerked a thumb towards Medusa, who raised a scaly eyebrow. "They left us in the middle of the fight! You have some secret deal with the Lamiae! You promised not to keep me in the dark, and then you scheme behind my back. This is poor business, Imperial!"

The criminal Moblin the Empire had spent years trying to bring to justice actually cowered as Doshu leaned down to face him, flinching noticeably. "Listen to me," he spoke slowly and clearly. "Go back to Halvung and your Trolls. Enjoy the money I gave you. Your usefulness to me is done. Be grateful you lived up to my needs and leave."

"I would like to make him my pet," Medusa suddenly declared. "I am growing bored with this."

"N-no!" Megomak stammered, moving back several steps. He hit something as he retreated, and turned, giving a panicked cry as he realized that three of Medusa's drauger had boxed him in. The serpent queen glided forward across the murky, half-solid ground. "Wait! Wait!" He screamed.

"Do as you will," Doshu said dismissively, stepping away from the scene.

She closed in, hand reaching out for the Moblin. With a high-pitched yelp, he clapped his hands together, and Doshu drew the Shadow Mantle about himself quickly. A spark flared, and then an explosion shook the ground. It was hardly more than a loud flash, but when it cleared, Megomak was gone.

Medusa straightened, sighing. "No one wants to dance . . . " she complained.

"Medusa," Doshu's voice took on a hint of warning. "They will all come after you now. You must be ready."

She shrugged, slithering off towards the gray confines of her swampland home. "Let the two-legs do as they like. Perhaps it will relieve my boredom." The Lamia's head turned, and with a gleaming red eye she caught Doshu's gaze. "Do not forget, Dark One. When you achieve your goals, my reward will be a dance never-ending."

He nodded once. "You will never run short on pets again, dread Queen. I assure you."

The Gorgon took in his words, not removing her eyes from his. On his finger, the Shadow Ring he wore pulsed, repelling whatever magic she might be directing his way. He only smiled at her, giving her a deep bow as he kept the small bundle held close. She turned away at last, her drauger lurching close behind. "Fare you well, Dark One," she intoned as she left.

"And you, Medusa. And you." A moment later, shadows stretched across him, the blackness carrying him away as if on the wind. Only chirping insects broke the stillness of night in Caedarva Mire.



No sooner had he arrived back in Jeuno than the aggravation continued.

For its part, the Duchy still appeared almost as it always had - the exception being the Vanguard roaming its streets, of course. Ever since his first journey across the Gugru Blue as a boy, he had marveled at the Middle Lands seat of power. Built as it was, a city in the middle of the sea, a metropolis of engineering ingenuity, it could not help but inspire wonder. Thus when they disposed of its unnecessary inhabitants, Doshu made sure that the architecture remained intact. He prided himself on his appreciation for things of great beauty.

The Ducal Palace especially had captured his eye. With its soaring arcs and delicate spires, marble staircases and sweeping ballrooms, it was every inch a match for the Imperial Palace in Whitegate. He was quite enjoying using it as his base of operations. Not simply for the marvelous landscape of the palace and the surrounding Ru’Lude Gardens, either. In a more practical sense, its size allowed him to generously house his allies and commanders. As long as they stayed happy, they remained tractable. The last thing he needed was dissent.

So when he was greeted by a furious Chiz, his mood quickly deteriorated.

“This was a debacle, Doshu,” the Hume’s tone was nothing short of condescending. “All the effort put into keeping that idiot Razfahd in our pocket gone in an instant, and for what? We failed to capture the Astral Candescence. Our beastmen allies were cut to pieces. And now Kkel Solaar is back.”

The Thief was seated upon the banister of a marble staircase, twirling a half-eaten apple in his hands. Between sentences, he took a bite, the juices running down his chin. He never took his eyes off of Doshu. Of all their comrades, Chiz trusted him the least. Likely because he had the most to offer their cause, and Doshu knew it. The others were useful for their power or their dedication. Only Chiz matched him for cunning.

“I never understood what it was you were so afraid of,” he went on, swallowing the tender fruit, “but what I do know is that now Solaar is back, because I was following your orders. How long do you think it will be before the Empire shows up here?”

“They’ve been dealt with,” Doshu curtly responded, walking past him with only a hint of acknowledgment.

“Hey!” Chiz slid down, tossing his apple aside and drawing a knife in practically the same motion. The Hume and the Elvaan stood eye-to-eye as Chiz drew himself up in front of him. “You’re not so slick, Doshu,” he warned in a low tone. “You’ve been going behind our backs. You’re meeting with Angra Mainyu without telling us.”

He glared right back. “Your paranoia means nothing to me. I’ve been dealing with any number of situations right here to make sure that everything we’ve worked for doesn’t fall apart. When would I even have time?”

“Stop jerking me around,” he warned. “If you’re going to make a move without us you better believe I will stop you, pretty boy. We built this thing together, and we’re going to get what’s coming to us together.” His knife edged upwards, glinting in Jeuno’s moonlight as a freezing wind blew past. “Now you better tell me – “

Before he could finish, Doshu’s hand lashed out and clamped down on the Hume’s wrist. The knife fell from his grasp, and immediately it was snatched from him. A moment later he found himself pinned to the wall, his own blade against his throat. Doshu’s eyes were narrow slits as dark shapes swam across his pupils. Chiz looked down at the knife, teeth clenched, breathing quickly.

“I am working tirelessly to make our dreams a reality,” he snarled, “every day some new problem arises which I must deal with. Do I criticize you for failing to kill Kkel Solaar? No, because I have already moved on from this problem. Will I punish Attack for letting the North Wind escape? No, because I have found where he is going. Every time one of you fails, I pick up the slack. Meeting with Angra Mainyu? Pfeh!” He spit on the ground at Chiz’s feet. Pushing his body weight forward, he forced the thinner-framed Hume to flatten himself against the wall or have his own knife move through him. “We meet him together. We plan our next steps together. I would not betray you, and your paranoid delusions will tear everything apart. I swear to you Chiz, if you do this, if you ruin what we have when we are so close,” he leaned in menacingly, speaking through grinding teeth, “I will slit your fucking throat.”

Before another word could be said, Doshu growled in pain. It felt like something had pinched his wrist, and suddenly he could no longer hold the knife. Chiz pushed him back with a burst of surprising strength, capturing it before it even hit the ground. He now had both his blades drawn, pointed squarely at the Elvaan’s heart. The bald man’s face was a thundercloud.

“You want to threaten me, Doshu? You want to play that game?” He twirled his knives without taking his eyes away from him. “Come and try me. I’m the guy you love to have on your team,” the points on his weapons glinted in the autumn moon, “but hate to play against.”

“That sounds stupid,” Doshu chastised, rolling his wrist as feeling returned to it. Then, he deliberately and meaningfully drew forth Annihilator.

Chiz’s expression changed almost immediately. The Thief’s green eyes widened, and he took an involuntary step backwards as the silver gun’s muzzle began to glow. Doshu held it but feet from his head, the Shadow Mantle flaring behind him.

“Stand down, my friend.” He advised, keeping his voice calm. “We can address your concerns some other time.”

Frustration twisted Chiz’s face for only a moment before he lowered his arms, slowly returning his knives to their sheaths. “Fine,” he muttered, eyes still not moving from the gun. “Some other time.”

Doshu let Annihilator pulse for a moment longer, and then returned it to the holster at his side. “Here,” he said suddenly, extending the arm he had kept hidden behind his cloak, “a sign of my trust.”

“What’s this?” He sounded suspicious, but took the small bundle of cloth from Doshu’s hands. It shifted in his grasp, and he gasped, looking quickly back and forth from it to the Elvaan.

“This is the brat?”

“The “brat,” as you say, is going to be crucial to everything. Have the people I requested gathered?”

Chiz nodded absently, looking at the baby in his hands. “They’re in the meeting hall. Except for the Tarutaru and that dumb Galka of his – he still hasn’t recovered.”

“They won’t be necessary.” He said dismissively. He turned to leave, entering the Palace itself. “We will talk more, Chiz. There is still much to be done, and I need your trust.”

“We’ll see,” the Thief replied, and Doshu knew he had done little to blunt his suspicious nature. At least the issue was dropped for now.

“Of course,” was all he said. “I will see you again soon. And you too, Drake.”

With that, he left his cunning ally and the child, entering the meeting hall. Behind its great wooden doors, not even his Elvaan ears picked up what Chiz said next.

“That gun is his only advantage,” he told Drake, looking over the child with mild curiousity. Then his gaze shifted to the doors. “If I had a weapon like that, things would be different. And as it happens,” he picked up the baby to face him. It had bright blue eyes which looked back at him. He was not crying or fussing, and indeed looked only confused regarding his surroundings. Chiz smiled at him, then let it fall from his face at the boy did not return it. “As it happens,” he repeated, “I know exactly where to find one.”

Doshu tried not to let himself be distracted by his problems with Chiz as he looked around his gathering. Half a dozen of his most powerful soldiers waited around an oaken table. It quite a step up from the shadowy hovels Doshu, Chiz, Attack, and Secure first met around all those months ago, when the first part of their plan had just newly come to fruition. Now the others of less power and ability but no less desire to aid their cause sat in the chairs of kings and emperors. He imagined it felt like quite the honor.

Eudon, the archer, sat just to Doshu’s right as he took his place at the head of the table. Beside him, the Paladin and Dark Knight whom he brought with him, Therin Lahhan and Kain MacBeth, anxiously awaited their orders. They were eager, he knew, and hungry for the power he had promised. Eudon was more relaxed, more calculating and better suited for command. He was the right choice, Doshu knew, for leading the second tier of the cabal. Whereas Therin wore highly ornate armor inlaid with silver and gold, and Kain wore a stylized cuirass and helm designed to mimic the appearance of a demon, Eudon wore only what was practical and necessary for his work. He put no stock in shows of power or status. His was simply to perform his tasks, and do so to the best of his ability.

And there would be no shortage of work for him in the days and weeks to come.

Seated to the other side of him were Chiz’s subordinates, generously ceded to Doshu’s command for this endeavor. Rennie was stoic as always, though he appeared perhaps a bit agitated. His failure in Pso’Xja had yet to be addressed, and he knew it was coming. It mattered little to Doshu. He already had his next plan in motion regarding that matter. Next to Rennie, tapping her fingers incessantly against the table was Chiz’s other servant. Her blond hair was undone and loose at her shoulders, stopping just short of a suit of deep blue armor, forged from the same adaman which comprised Rennie’s mail. She was gnawing on her own knuckle, eyes darting back and forth at those gathered. Doshu knew better than to suspect madness or nervous tics on her part, though. Ainsoph was simply eager to begin shedding blood.

Then there was their sixth member, at the end of the table. His languid posture and lazy eyes made him look nearly half asleep. He wasn’t even wearing armor, though it had been provided for him. Instead he had on only a simple tunic and breeches, with a heavy cloak around his shoulders to ward off the chill. Lazily brushing a strand of red hair from his eyes, the Elvaan acknowledged Doshu with only the slightest inclination of his head before slumping back in his chair. The seeming disinterest did not bother him. He did not hire the mercenary Mertron for his manners, just his strength.

"Thank you for gathering here," he sat down, pyramiding his fingers before him. "And thank you especially to Eudon." Sprading his hand magnanimously towards the archer, he accepted his quiet nod of response. "When I sent him to scour the countryside for survivors I never expected the results to be quite so fruitful."

"I was there too," Kain blurted out, almost starting to his feet. "I was there, we helped find them."

"Yes . . . of course." Doshu brushed past his hunger for recognition. He turned his eyes to Rennie, a subtle shift without turning his head. "I should not have to tell you that you will not be receiving another chance after this."

The Hume stared forward, his expression undaunted. "I was interfered with the first time. It will not happen again." Doshu let his eyes slide away. He had plans for Rennie which necessitated his presence, but could not let him think himself more valuable than anybody else. Clearing his throat, he got down to business.
“I won’t take up any more of your time than necessary,” Doshu said to start. “There is much to be done and we must start right away. You each have a specific task to perform, so let us get right into it.” Removing a scroll from the pouch near his back, he laid it out on the table. The map of the Meriphataud Mountains unfurled for all of them to see. “Listen carefully,” he continued, “this is how we will take Castle Oztroja.”


Three days had passed since Secure's army had begun leaving Sarutabaruta. Across plains of browning grass tipped with white frost, thousands of tracks had left a trail trampled up from the fields to the mountains. For the first time in weeks, the grasslands were clear.

From Heaven's Tower, Meowolf looked out his window and watched. Just as he had every day since the remnants of Secure's army began their withdrawal.

The atmopshere in Windurst had been as euphoric as the citizens could manage. Seeing the Vanguard which remained on the field of battle suddenly disperse sent a tidal wave of relief flooding through the city. Valiant as they were following their victory, the Federation Army simply had nothing left to give. They could rest easy though. After enduring nearly inconceivable loss and devastation, Windurst at last was safe again.

Death and destruction had taken their toll, however. All over the city tents or crude shelters dotted the landscape. Funeral pyres had burned for days now as the Mithra honored their dead in the Olzhiryan tradition. The Tarutaru buried their fallen, The Star Sibyl presiding over sorrowful mass services. Lines stretched around city blocks as those left homeless and orphaned waited for food. It was not uncommon to find families huddled together in the cold Windurst evenings, struggling to stay warm. The council was doing everything they could to provide for the people. With so many of the Federation's greatest mages dead, injured, or simply too weak to cast spells, and such a multitude to keep safe, their resources were stretched beyond the breaking point.

That Secure's army would simply leave was a cause for celebration. They could now try to fish from Sarutabaruta's streams, and gather what little it had to offer in the way of food before the winter settled in. There would be a little bit more to go around, and every scrap helped. It would take them years to recover fully, but at least now there was no visible threat. They had time and safety, which was more than they could claim since the invasion began.

Meowolf strapped his new shield across his back, wincing at the lingering pain in his chest. His bag was loaded with bread and dried meat, and he had a canteen filled with water from where the Starfruit Trees grew. His arms and armament had been repaired or replaced, his wounds tended to until his strength returned. Checking himself over one last time, the Galka slipped quietly from his room, shutting the door soundlessly.

Heaven's Tower was almost devoid of inhabitants these days. Those who were able spent nearly every waking moment out in the city, trying to repair buildings and lives. What few people did still wander its halls were mostly those walking back to their chambers so they might catch some sleep before returning to another day of rebuilding. The ministers and professors of the five Ministries, especially, were practically never around anymore. Day in and day out they were combing through the wreckage, trying to recover as much as they could. Untold numbers of magical items and invaluable tomes of knowledge could be lost if they did not act quickly. So as he wound his way down the corridors of Windurst's center of government, Meowolf encountered no one. It was better that way, he knew. It would be difficult to explain himself if questioned.

In no time at all, he was on the bridge outside. Dark skies greeted him, though he knew it was nearly noon. Heaving a sigh, he wondered if he would ever see the blue sky again. The pall of Dynamis was so thick now it was hard to remember what sunlight looked like. The grayish blob which hung overhead seemed nothing more than a blot in the sky, unable to pierce the thick veil of darkness spreading across the world. Meowolf turned his eyes away from the heavens. He had no desire to reflect on the misery quickly pervading all of Vana'diel. There was only one thing he needed to do now. Keeping his purpose firmly at the forefront of his thoughts, he crossed the bridge and left Heaven's Tower behind him.

Somewhere in the city, Tyrian and Sinti were helping manage one of the many large medical tents set up all across Windurst. Sinti had healed people until her magic ran out, and when that happened she began applying more traditional care. With his training, Tyrian knew all about setting bones, bandaging wounds, and making poultices. They, along with every White Mage who was capable, administered as much care as they could while resting their magical powers. There was no end to the demand for their services.

Elsewhere, Klades was helping to rebuild that which had been destroyed. To the dismay of the citizenry, it had been decided that restoring the city walls was paramount in the interests of Windurst. Thus far, however, no one challenged the notion that they should be prepared to be attacked again. The Onion Samurai worked day in and day out to transport new stones and timbers back and forth between construction zones. Slowly but surely, the skeletons of new walls were beginning to take shape.

Yasuchika was often away in high-level meetings. As the leader of the Capricornian War Warlocks, he the largest collection of mages still functional in the city. Magic was a precious commodity now. Thus his work required him to be constantly made aware of when and how it could best be used. His days were long and nights often restless as he coped to bear the burden of a Windurst which needed him more than ever.

All over Windurst, the people Meowolf had met and come to know fought now to restore their city. Ryce-Rizzle and Harutaru led the Libran War Warlocks in handing out food and medical aid. Titania and the other Mithran Rangers scoured grasslands and waters for food. Semih Lafihna and Kaita kept watch over the city with the Patriarch Protectors, dissuading thieves from taking advantage of the beleaguered people. Even the personnel of Heaven's Tower he had barely met, such as Zoranos and Tskeun, were running themselves ragged keeping lines of communication open between all the city districts, making sure care was allocated quickly where and when it was needed.

There were some who could not help, no matter how much they wanted to. Captain Jaydeena remained bedridden, her condition constantly touch-and-go from the injuries she sustained. The Pythons surrounded their Captain's tent day in and day out, letting none but requested visitors and physicians enter. No one was sure when, or even if she would be able to fight again. In a similar condition was Captain Dieggo, or, as Meowolf knew him now, Semina-Baruha. Meowolf had been to see him once, in the triage where he was being cared for. Summoning Fenrir had taken everything from both the Tarutaru and the Terrestrial Avatar. The Great Beast had used everything he had to destroy the Behemoths and the Apocalyptic Beast. It now slumbered once more within Full Moon Fountain, and Dieggo's strength was just as depleted. Under his guard of the few remaining Ariesians, he slept most all the time, waking only fleetingly. Sometimes he would be conscious for an hour or so, sometimes just a few minutes. It was hard for Meowolf to see a man whom had been so full of fire, so defiant in the face of the adversity, reduced to such a state. He could only pray his friend would recover.

It seemed wherever he went, the Paladin found the people of Windurst banding together to help one another. Fighting together for so long, losing so many comrades-in-arms, and finally surviving against all odds had created a bond in all of the Federation's citizens. They were fighting past their weariness and injury. Now more than ever, they believed in Windurst,

Fighting down a pang of guilt at not staying to help, or even saying farewell to his friends, Meowolf slipped through the unwatched city gates. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he left Windurst behind him.

He had saved a great many people during the war, but not all of them. There was one person left he had promised to protect.

The sun above providing no light for anyone to see him depart, Meowolf left to find Cullen.


The parapets of Castle Oztroja stood defiantly in face of the late autumn chill. Even in the arid landscape of Meriphataud Mountains, the changing seasons and lack of sunlight were causing the temperature to drop. Mornings would dawn with the scant vegetation in the area enveloped in its own frozen dew. Fog was rolling in as the air pressure fell, creating gray, depressing days. Standing atop the battlements and staring outwards, Rykoshet could not help but let the weather affect his mood.

Vile had not yet completely recovered. Though he was awake and aware, the burns he suffered battling Attack had gone down to the bone. Lethe was taking his time repairing them so as to not leave any lasting damage, and the process was arduous. Beyond that, the news which had greeted him upon his return was also sobering. Fated and Raidom were both injured. Eig was missing. Middlesky was dead. Odessa was beside herself with grief. She had proven inconsolable at first, but in the days since they had returned from the Northlands she had slowly come out of her reclusive shell, fueled increasingly by anger. She wandered the halls like a roving storm cloud, and no one was foolish enough to get in her way.

He leaned over the parapet, elbows resting on the carved stone. Looking out across the mountainous landscape, the Elvaan let the chill wind sweep through his blond hair. Once again, he did not know where to go from here.

"Your thoughts are troubled, Rykoshet,"

The Dark Knight turned in surprise to discover Fill standing in the doorway behind him. The North Wind smiled comfortingly, and Rykoshet sighed, turning back to his musings.

"I don't suppose you could do anything about the cold," he grumbled, rubbing his shoulders as another breath of wind blew by.

Fill shook his head. "The North Wind is not known for its warmth." Rykoshet gave a single grunt in response. A moment of stiff silence passed between them, untl the bearded Hume glided to the side of his host.

"Rykoshet, tell me what is on your mind." One of the Elvaan's dark eyes flicked towards him. "A great many things pass by on the wind. I can help you if you but ask."

"Help," he scoffed. "What could help us now?"

"I am the North Wind, Rykoshet. I am among the four most poweful sorcerers in Vana'diel." His tone had gone from soothing to coldly serious. "I can see your heart, and your soul. I know you have not yet given up."

He leaned forward, shaking his head as the wind stung at his ears. "It's hard, Fill. Everyone here is counting on me, and it seems that even when we win, we still end up losing."

"Do you intend to let them down?" Rykoshet said nothing. Fill smiled again, spreading his hands. "Then ask me what you want to know."

The Elvaan did not look at the North Wind, and instead kept his gaze firmly on the horizon. "I want to know why this is happening."

"Not an easy question," Fill's tone was somber. "If I were a defeatist, I would tell you it was because the Winds failed in their duty. But Dynamis remains constrained to its ancient borders due to our efforts. No, this is solely the work of greed, Rykoshet. Greed and a lust for power beyond anything mortals should strive for. Here, outside of my shelter, thing are being slowly revealed to me."

"Like what?"

The color of Fill's eyes shifted and swirled as he lifted his chin skyward. "The names you were after. I see them now. There are many, as a conspiracy of this level requires such. But now, just as I stand revealed to them, so too are they to me." Closing his eyes now, the North Wind spoke in a voice which came from all around Rykoshet, rather than the brown-bearded Hume's lips. "The one we encountered at Pso'Xja is named Attack. He hails from Windurst, expelled long ago for the nature of his black arts. Working with him is Secure, from the Far East. He is a man of great wealth and stature in his homeland, but he yearns for more, always more. There is also Chiz, whose point of origin lay in Norg. His cunning is without equal. Finally there is Doshu, from Aht Uhrgan. Of him, much is still shrouded." He opened his eyes ,which had returned now to a solid, unmoving color. "There are others working with them, but they are only subordinates. Those four orchestrated the rupture between worlds which freed the horrors of Dynamis upon Vana'diel. And they have only just begun."

"All for power," Rykoshet shook his head. He clutched the broken linkshell still tied to his neck. "What are our chances of beating them? Of bringing things back to normal?"

Fill's gaze was hard. "Before you rescued me, infintesimal. Now, only slightly greater."

The Elvaan turned to face the North Wind. "So, why did we rescue you? If you're so all-powerful, can't you wave your hand and make all this disappear?"

He actually laughed in response, a hearty chuckle from deep in his throat. "Oh, Rykoshet, were it that simple don't you think I would have done so already? My power notwithstanding, I, and the other three Winds, are but mortals. We can be rended by blade or burned by spell just the same as you. We are also bound by rules as old as time itself." The comforting smile returned, but with something else behind it. His eyes were intent as he stretched his hand out towards the Elvaan.

"What are you doing?" Rykoshet asked, and then felt a chill pass over him as the North Wind's hand took hold of the linkshell strung on its leather cord around his neck.

"What will win this, Rykoshet, is the power of your friends. You have a knack like no one else in the world to unite others of great srength and talent under your banner. Already they have come to you, and will still come, but some you must seek out. They will be out there for you to find. Brought together, I know that not even Dynamis itself will be able to stand before your might." As Fill spoke, the dust surrounding them swirled at his feet, and a bright green aura flared around him as his robes whipped about in a wind of his own creation.

The feeling sweeping through Rykoshet changed as Fill closed his fist around his cracked linkshell. The bone-chilling cold suddenly became soothing, like fresh water splashing across his face. He took a deep breath, gasping at how startlingly crisp and delicious the air was in his lungs. A moment later it died down, and the North Wind released his grasp. Folding his hands back in his sleeves, he let the Dark Knight see with his own eyes what had happened.

"I still dare not exercise my power to its full extent," he told Rykoshet, "but something like this is but a trifle."

Disbelivingly, Rykoshet took hold of his linkshell. It was glowing a vibrant pink, pulsating with the energy coursing through it. Warm to the touch, he could now hear it humming softly as he ran his fingers across its surface. The break was gone, the crack sealed completely.

With a burst of child-like astonishment, he laughed out loud as he channeled a trickle of his chi into the shell, and a single, perfectly spherical pearl dropped into his palm.

"It's back," he whispered, looking back and forth from Fill's smiling visage to the pearl he held between two fingers. "It's back!"

"Use it well, Rykoshet," The North Wind bowed his head. "Do you mind?" Stretching out his hand, he opened his palm to the Elvaan. Rykoshet shot him a fierce grin.

"Not at all," he said with a fire he hadn't heard in his own voice for months. "Fill the North Wind, welcome to Those Guys." Handing over the pearl he had just created, he felt the familiar tingle of spiritual energy as it passed over to the Hume's ownership. A gust of wind shot up from his hand, and the tiny pink bauble began floating on it, suspended just behind Fill's left ear. He smiled at his new adornment, and also at Rykoshet's renewed enthusiasm.

"Rykoshet," a voice suddenly called. He turned to find Odessa, her long white hair tied in a braid behind her, opening the door to the castle tower. "Your - "

"Odessa," he took three easy strides on his long legs, bridging the distance between them. She looked startled as he suddenly closed in on her, and even moreso when he pressed his hands into hers. "Welcome to Those Guys.,"

"What are you talking ab - " she stopped, tearing her hands free only to realize something had been placed in her grasp. The White Mage stared, dumbfounded, at the linkpearl she now held. "How?" She blurted out, gaping both at the pearl and Rykoshet.

He gestured towards Fill, who gave a slight inclinaton of his head and indicated his own new pearl.

"This is . . . this is amazing," she whispered excitedly. "Rykoshet, I've never even heard of a shell being repaired once broken. It's a miracle." Her eyes were wide as she stared at the pearl. A smile breaking across her face for the first time in weeks, she brought the pearl to her lips and spoke. "Hello," her voice was uncertain, and she bit her lip right after speaking.

"Hello to you, Madame Odessa," Fill acknowledged, the pearl behind his ear sweeping around to his mouth. She heard his voice clear as a bell, but not through her own ears. It vibrated out from the pearl she held. With glee, she gripped it tightly, like a precious gem. Wordlessly, she walked over to Fill and embraced him. For his part, the North Wind looked rather embarassed.

"Thank you," she told him. He gave her his familiar smile, stroking a hand against his beard.

"It was the least I could do. The rest lies with Rykoshet."

"You didn't have to say that," she said, her expression souring. Still, Rykoshet could see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she rolled her new linkpearl around in her hands.

"I've got to go get these out to everyone right away," he said. "This changes everything. We've got to make plans. I'll need to talk to Baeladar and ask him how we can best use this to our advantage. I'll call everybody in the castle together . . . "

"Oh!" Odessa's exclamation stopped Rykoshet in his tracks. Her eyes had gone wide, and he could see a touch of the color leaving her face. "Rykoshet, that's why I came up here in the first place! You've got to go to the main hall, right away."

"What for?" He already had his hand on the door leading back into the castle.

"Your Master is here, Rykoshet," the cold wind swept strands of her silver hair loose, brushing them across her face. "And he wants you to come with him right away."


Emblim took a long, appreciative look at the sunset as it settled against the mountains of Western Altepa. For all the weeks he trekked from San d'Oria to Bastok, the sky grew ever darker. Here, where the sun still shone, the light was welcomed back like an old friend.

Rabao was a small settlement of San d'Oria meant to lay claim to the otherwise abandoned Zepwell Island. With so great an Antican presence, as well as the other powerful monsters which roamed the desert, they never made it further than the oasis. Situated as it was, however, the town was ideal for their purposes. Surrounded by treacherous desert mountains, the only way through was a single enclosed pass which no army would be foolish enough to storm. While the Antican army was on the move, alll of Altepa was unsafe, but Rabao remained untouchable.

Reminded of their presence, he regretfully took his eyes off the hazy red glow in the distance, and raised the invention of Cid to his eyes once again.

"This really is an amazing device," he commented. "I've seen the spyglasses sailors use, but these are just as potent and far more compact. And no squinting." Through the lenses he pressed to his eyes, Emblim could see the antmen stretching out across the blond sands of the Western Altepa Desert. They seemed endless, as numerous as the stars slowly beginning to twinkle above.

"Thanks," Cid commented from beside him. The two men were crouched low against the rocks. From this distance, they did not believe they could be spotted, but were taking no chances. "I based the design on the Hume eye itself. The lenses work like a secondary set of eyes enhancing yer normal ones. So you've got a binary set of oculars."

"What do you call them?" Emblim asked, again peering out at the Antican horde.

"Cid-Scopes." He said proudly. "That's just a prototype, I'm workin' on gettin' these out to every scout in the field."

Emblim slid the set he had into his belt, turning away from the rock face. Sliding down, he landed against the sand and looked back up at the inventor. "I don't think we're going to learn anything new today. Might as well call it a night."

"Yer right," he sighed. "Best be gettin' back."

The gray-haired engineer joined Emblim on the ground, and together they made their way back into Rabao. It was a small town, built as it was against a man-made lake. In what had to constitute a nigh-miraculous feat of engineering, windmills pumped in water from beneath the surface to keep the lake filled, and it was even stocked with fish. The architecture all around was unique unto desert housing, designed to keep sunlight out and cool breezes in. Emblim knew that this time of year winter would be settling over the Konschtat Highlands, with cold winds blowing off from the Pashow Marshlands bringing in freezing rains and sleet for the rest of the season. Here in the desert, it was still bright and sunny every day, with hardly a cloud in the sky.

He was happy he got to see the sun again before the Antican army swept over all of them.

Hundreds upon hundreds of tents had been erected in the town, encircling the lake and pushing out into the small herding ranges and the San d'Orian auction house. The people and soliders of Bastok had taken refuge here, and were preparing to bear the brunt of the storm coming their way. There were many other refugees here, as it turned out, making the quiet desert town a sudden bustling hub of the international community. Emblim was worried they would push the scant resources of the town to their limit, but so far strict rationing had kept things relatively stable.

"We should see if any of the scouts came back yet," Cid suggestd, and Emblim nodded in agreement. They pushed their way through the crowded sands, the Paladin tugging at the unfamiliar deset clothing he wore. His suit of armor was a constant companion, but hardly suitable for wandering the streets of a sun-bleached village. Both he and Cid had taken to the light, airy robes which kept sand out of the eyes and burns off of the skin. His sword and shield waited for him back in the tent he shared with the others from San d'Oria.

Finally they came to a white, domed tent, the sigil of Bastok upon its entry flaps. The two entered, and Emblim was surprised to find Erilan waiting inside.

"Emblim!" The Elvaan said in surprise. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

The two clasped hands. "There's nothing much new to see, so we thought to check up on reports from those in the field."

Erilan nodded. "I had the same thought. We're talking ourselves in circles over at military command, I wanted to see if any new information had come to light." He too had donned the robes native to Rabao, and looked far more comfortable in them than Emblim did. He realized that for San d'Orian knights and nobility, Rabao was likely a popular and exotic vacation spot. Indeed, Erilan's robe was not only cut better, but he wore it in the most recent style. Emblim shook his head, wondering what he had gotten up to in this provincial town with its provincial girls.

He spotted the quizzical look Erilan was giving him and quickly brought his mind back to the present. "So," he brushed past the moment, "anything come in yet?"

"One of the scout was supposed to be here," Cid murmered, looking about the expansive two-room tent. "Hey!" He boomed, planting his fists on his hips. "Towering Inferno! Are you back yet?"

Almost instantly, the flaps to the back portion of the tent flared open. A gargantuan Galka surged forward, fire in his eyes as he bared his teeth angrily. Emblim gaped. Stripped to the waist, the alabaster-skinned giant easily broke seven feet of taut and toned muscle. His fingers were like sausages, his fists giant hams. He had a chest thicker than a barrel, and arms straining with sinew. The black hair on the back of his head bristled as his eyes fell on the Chief Engineer.

"I told you never to call me that!" He bellowed. "That's a slave name! My name is Riidley!"

"How in Altana's name were you hiding back there?" Erilan wondered aloud, astonished. "You're a giant!"

"Oh, is that all you see," Emblim was beginning to rapidly see how Towering Inferno got his name. "A big ol' field hand, huh? Maybe a nice pack mule for the mines?" Riidley's words seemed more confusing to Erilan than anything. "I am a solider, and I am back in the land of my birth. I was communicating with the land of my ancestors, ripped away from their home."

"Yeah, so," Cid stepped up to the Galka unafraid. He barely came to the hulk's chest. "you were sleeping. It's a good thing you don't snore, or yer like t'inhale th tent."

Riidley's eyes burned as he stared down at the old man, but Cid stared right back up, setting his jaw. "You think you understand - "

"Enough chit-chat, boy! Tell us what you saw!"

"Boy?!" Riidley's voice was an indignant rage.

"Riidley!" Emblim stepped forward, gently but urgently pushing Cid out of the way. The Galka glared down, his face a thunderstorm. "Riidley - what is your rank, soldier?"

"Sergeant of the Iron Musketeers, sir," he put a spiteful emphasis on the "sir." Emblim suppressed a grimace. Bastok was full of Galkas who - perhaps not without justification - thought themselves held down by the Humes. It was clear Riidley counted himself among their number.

"Sergeant, I'm Captain Emblim of the Mythril Musketeers." Riidley was slow to return his snapped salute. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the smaller man in front of him. "We're trying to deal with the Antican threat as soon as possible, and so we need the information you've gathered. I'll accept your report now."

"Oh, so the ants push my people out of our home and the Humes don't bat an eyelash, but now that it's inconveniencing you, you can't get rid of them fast enough. I get it."

"That's not - " Emblim was cut off as Erilan suddenly spoke, his voice practically scandalized.

"That's how you let subordinates talk to you in the Bastokan military?" He looked at Emblim, amazed, and then turned to Riidley. "And you, soldier, that's how you address a commanding officer? What is wrong with you backwards Bastokans? You'd be court martialed in a heartbeat in San d'Oria."

"What do you know, Elvaan?" Riidley shifted his bulk forward, his head nearly scraping the top of the tent.

Erilan stared up at him. Taller than Emblim or Cid, he was still dwarfed by the Galka. Still, his blue eyes pierced through Riidley's burning gaze with an intensity Emblim had not known his friend to possess. "I know that the San d'Orian army is the best one in the world, and we wouldn't put up with this kind of behavior for half a second. Your commanding officer made a request of you. You call yourself a soldier? Then you damn better well honor it, Sergeant. That's what military life is about."

Riidley stared down at the Elvaan, breath rising in his chest. His hands clenched and unclenched as he set his teeth together. After a long pause, he twisted his head slightly, looking down at Emblim again.

"Got nothing to report," he rumbled. "The ants are all over the desert. Quicksands Caves is practically emptied out, they're all on the move north. I didn't see leader or any demons or any of that stuff we're on the lookout for. Just ants."

"Wait a second," Cid's face had suddenly lit up. "Quicksands Caves has been abandoned?"

"You heard me - " Erilan coughed mightily, and Riidley shot him an angry glance. "Yes, sir," he ground out through clenched teeth. "There''s only a token guard still in place. The entire Antican army is on the field."

"My boy, you've been more help than you know." The old inventor's eyes were alight with ideas swirling behind them. Riidley shook his head, brushing past him and into the back.

"Whatever, old man. I'm going back to sleep."

"You didn't ask - " Erilan was about to speak, but Emblim cut him off.

"I wouldn't push it," he whispered, "but thanks."

The huge Galka folded the tent back up behind him and settled to the ground as Cid urgently rushed Emblim back out into the twilight. Erilan followed, curious as to what was happening.

"We've got a chance," Cid said immediately upon exiting the tent. Emblim peered at him, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"What are you talking about?" The Paladin responded.

"Quicksands Caves, boy! Emb, listen," he drew the Hume in close, and spoke in conspiratorial whispers. "You can't tell anybody, not yet. But I'm hiding something there."

"In Quicksands Caves?" Cid gave a start when Erilan chimed in, having forgotten he was there.

"Curse yer Elvaan ears," he muttered, "but alright, yer a friend of Emb's so you must be trustworthy. Listen up, meat shields. We've got one chance to get this right, but if we do, it means we all go home."

As the plan to save the people of Bastok began to take shape, dusk claimed the skies of Rabao, and a cool desert breeze began to blow in from the west.

Chapter LXXX: The Sunserpent Shines

Chiz’s eyes widened as a fist suddenly came within inches of his face. There was a blur of motion, and the tattooed man vanished from the spot where he had been standing. Kkel Solaar’s bare knuckles broke through the rock, shattered stone raining down to the ground below. Tearing his hand free, he turned to find Pixel’s abducter several feet away, clinging to the rock and still gaping in amazement. He saw instantly that Chiz’s hasty escape had cost him something quite dear.

On the ground below Kkel, looking up in open-mouthed astonishment, was Pixel. Chiz had dropped her, and now the Sunserpent stood between them. The development was not lost on either of them.

“Dammit!” Chiz spat, grinding his teeth. “This is impossible! It’s not supposed to happen this way!”

Kkel had no words to respond. Instead, he shot out his hand, and a crack of black lightning sliced forward. It struck only basalt, blasting the rock face apart. The blonde Elvaan lowered his hand in anger. Chiz was gone, melted into the shadows. Not a trace of the tattooed Hume remained.

Their antagonist's escape did not seem to overly trouble the Serpent General. His focus was elsewhere.

Pixel was clinging to him, tears openly streaming down her face. He kneeled down, embracing the Tarutaru and holding her in a close embrace. "I, I never thought . . . " she looked up at him with glittering eyes. "I never even hoped," the Bard gripped him tightly. "It's impossible. Once a Blue Mage turns, they . . .how . . . how did it happen?"

Kkel smiled at her warmly, turning to look at Jinxie. The Red Mage had managed to rise, wavering unsteadily on her feet. Her face and hair were streaked with ash, and she felt like she looked. Every ounce of strength was gone from her, and it was taking everything she had left just not to fall over. Even in her weakened state, she still looked over at Kkel in disbelief. The terrifying fiend which she knew him as was gone. In its place stood the proud Elvaan soldier she had seen in the images of Pixel's Gjallarhorn. And now he was looking at her with the same sense of wonder Pixel was directing at him.

"It was you, Jinxie," he marveled at her. "That moment, fighting Cerberus, I could feel my humanity slipping away. The power was taking me over, but then . . . " he stopped, looking at his hands. A fierce smile broke across his face. "Something reached out to me. Something with overwhelming purity gave of itself willingly. It felt like seeing a lighthouse beacon in the middle of storm in the black of night." The Serpent General had made his way back to her, and now kneeled in front of her in admiration. She stared down at him in surprise. "I followed that light, your light, and it guided me through the darkness. It brought me out of that nightmare and back to myself." Now he rose, brushing a streak of ash from her cheek. "You've done the impossible, Jinxie. You rescued a Soulflayer."

She offered him a weak smile. It was all she could manage. "I'm so happy, Kkel," she breathed, "but I wouldn't want to do it again."

He gave a hearty laugh, embracing the Red Mage tightly. When he released her, she looked down to find Pixel smiling up at her. "Thank you," she said simply, "Thank you."

Kkel began glowing with a soothing white light. A breeze rushed over Jinxie, carrying away her wounds. She sighed, the pain in her joints subsiding, but she still felt as if she hadn't eaten in days. "A trick I picked up from the Dhalmels," he told her, and then turned resolutely to the east, clutching his robe tightly. The garment had appeared blacker than night itself when he had been a Soulflayer, as if made of woven shadow. Now it was simple cloth, and made for a being twice the size of the one currently wearing it. "We've got to get back to Al Zahbi," he stated.

"What's wrong?" Pixel asked, catching the note of warning in his voice.

He put a hand out, indicating the empty battlements around them, scarred by the battle with Cerberus. "There are no Trolls," the Sunserpent observed ominously. "They only leave this area for one reason."

The Tarutaru gripped Gjallarhorn tightly. "They're attacking the city."

Kkel nodded. "Jinxie, can you walk?" She took a halting step, and almost fell. Wasting no time, Kkel suddenly scooped her up in his arms, nodding to Pixel. The Bard played a lively, fast-paced mazurka, and the spellsong wrapped around the duo. "Let's go, Pix!" Jinxie could feel the excitement emanating from both of them. She realized this was the first time in a very long time that the two were facing a new adventure together. She would have smiled if she could find the energy.

Propelled by her song, the Bard and the Blue Mage sped back through Mount Zhayolm. They were back through the enormous iron gates before Jinxie knew it, and moments later were rushing by the barren wastes where the Wamoura flew. Within minutes, they were back at the portal they had come in from. Jinxie felt the same dizzying sensation as she was enveloped in a purplish glow, and her surroundings rapidly altered.

She staggered as Kkel set her down. Blinking, she examined her surroundings. This was the Hall of Transference, she realized. They were back in Whitegate. Surprisingly, she found her bearings had returned, as well as some semblance of balance. The Red Mage was able to walk down the stairs as Kkel marched out in front of her, greeted by gasps from the Hall's attendants.

"G- General Solaar!" One of them blurted out, dumbfounded.

"Where did you come from?"

"The Sunserpent! He's back!"

"Did you kill the Soulflayer?"

"General Solaar!" A Tarutaru Jinxie recognized as the one whom had been gibbering in the corner when she came through here the first time shouted. "General, General! The city is under attack! You've got to help us!"

"Enough!" Kkel threw out a hand, his blue eyes gleaming. The attendants fell silent in an instant. From the smile on his face, Jinxie could tell he was enjoying this a great deal. "Somebody go find my armor. And it sure as hell better be red!" He stopped, turning on his heel. He and Pixel shared a look of untethered excitement. "Ready, Pixel?"

She nodded. "Always."

"Then let's go save the Empire."


Rughadjeen swung his double-bladed sword like a hammer, battering back Gurfurlur the Menacing. The Troll angrily bellowed at the Skyserpent as the algol swept over his bark-like sin. Gurfurlur hastily defended himself, but the Serpent General’s unforgiving assault was quickly proving more than the Troll had bargained for. Rughadjeen was relentless, weapon a blur as it repeatedly sliced into him. A thick, orange blood was trickling out of a dozen different wounds on Gurfurlur’s body. Behind them, the battle was raging as the Imperials fought to beat the Trolls back. Spurred on by their leader’s bravery, the Empire’s soldiers were managing to regain the ground they had lost.

Gurfurlur shouted an obvious threat in Trollish, and then tore a piece of the street from its foundation. With impeccable accuracy, he hurled the chunk of Al Zahbi’s firmament at the Serpent General, striking him in the chest. Rughadjeen skidded back several feet, leaving a scar in the ground as the algol scraped across it, slowing his momentum. Shaking off the impact, the Elvaan tore his weapon free and ran forward, blade meeting Gurfurlur’s fists. Ignoring the stinging cuts inflicted on his own knuckles, Gurfurlur met the Skyserpent’s swings with ferocious blows. Rughadjeen pulled back for fear that he would drop his weapon in the face of such power.

Taking advantage of the Elvaan’s momentary lapse, Gurfurlur smashed his fists into the ground at Rughadjeen’s feet. A tremor plowed forward from the point of impact, throwing the Serpent General from his feet. As he sailed through the air, the Troll King ran forward, muscles going taut, and released a devastating haymaker on the airborne Skyserpent. Like a cannonball, Rughadjeen shot into the gates to the Residential quarter, disappearing behind a wall of debris as he broke through the brick and mortar. His soldiers reacted in shock, swarming defensively towards the site of impact. They need not have bothered.

Only seconds after careening through a brick wall, Rughadjeen came roaring back out again. Dust fell from him in a cloud as he broke free from the mass of fallen stones, cutting through the Trolls before him in seconds. Gurfurlur growled in surprise and anger, but then, with a cry of victory from its owner, the algol was in the air. From the Serpent General’s blade, a blinding flash of energy radiated out into the Troll ranks. They howled as Rughadjeen’s energy sliced through them, leaving those which survived sightless in the aftermath. Gurfurlur the Menacing howled as he struck out blindly, fists searching for the body of his opponent. He roared in Trollish with a voice full of fury.

“The Boss says you’re too scared to fight him fair!” The Moblin at Gurfurlur’s side was shouting angrily, hopping up and down. “He says he’ll tear you apart when he can see you!”

“Megomak!” Rughadjeen raged over the sound of battle. “This is your doing! Criminal scum, I’ll put an end to you right here!” The Serpent General surged forward, beating through the Troll ranks with fire in his eyes.

“N-n-no!” Megomak faltered in the face of Rughadjeen’s anger, stepping back behind Gurfurlur. “I – I’m just the middle-Moblin! P-p-protect me, Gurfurlur!”

The Troll King was still blinking spots from his eyes, his world a dim blur. The Skyserpent was rushing towards the both of them, pulling back his sword with intent to skewer the beastman on its dual ends. Megomak crouched down, simpering as Rughadjeen inexorably closed in upon him.

A great cry of confusion suddenly spilled out across the battlefield. Rughadjeen never reached Megomak or Gurfurlur, and the Moblin opened his eyes at the sound of a titanic clashing of blades.

The twin heads of Gulool Ja Ja hissed at General Rughadjeen. From the north, an entire column of Mamool Ja had broken off from the fighting in Ulthalam’s Parade Grounds and gone to reinforce the Trolls. The Imperial units were now swarmed under by two consecutive waves of beastmen. Assaulted by Troll and lizardman alike, they were pushed back almost immediately, leaving Rughadjeen alone to battle Gulool Ja Ja and Gurfurlur the Menacing on his own. Gulool slashed down with his twin blades, and Rughadjeen leaped backwards. A spray of broken stones assailed him as the ground was smashed apart by the Autarch’s swords. He landed, the algol held upwards protectively, as Gurfurlur stepped forward to Gulool Ja Ja’s side.

And the Skyserpent knew why they would take such a risk, weakening their main unit to support the secondary offensive. Because they knew as long as he stood, the door to their treasure would never open.

Faced with the lords of two beastmen hordes, Rughadjeen was forced to wonder how long even he could hold out.


“I will not allow this atrocity to take place,” Razfahd snarled at his soldiers. The Immortals were lined up en masse before him at the Imperial Palace. Aht Urghan’s crack Blue Mages shared uncertain glances between them as their Grand Vizier detailed his orders to them. “We will ourselves join the battle and teach these animals what it means to trespass on the Empire’s land.”

“But – Grand Vizier,” one of them said uncertainly, “The palace . . . “

“The palace will not fall under attack,” Razfahd asserted. “We can leave it unguarded for the time it will take to clean up this mess.”

“Sir, with all due respect, the Empress will be undefended. We cannot simply abandon our most important duty!” Somewhat bolder than the rest, the Immortal’s words stirred a murmur of agreement from their ranks.

Razfahd glared. “And what of the Empress should the Astral Candescence fall into beastmen hands?” he demanded. “Tell me what you would make of duty then, Rishfee!”

“My job is to defend the Empress, sir,” the Blue Mage told him coolly, “not to clean up after your mistakes.”

A hush fell over the room as the Grand Vizier stared at the Immortal. Rishfee kept his eyes forward, Razfahd’s burning gaze washing over him in the uncomfortable silence. To the astonishment of all gathered, Razfahd turned away, his back now to the Imperial Guard. His voice was hushed, and tinged with a regret they had never before heard from their commander.

“You don’t understand,” it was almost a plea, “I’ve got to set things right. I must defend the Empire. No matter what.”

Glances were exchanged between the Immortals. Most were aching to get outside and fight the beastmen, but their duty to the Empress came first. None were sure what to do.

The silence was suddenly broken by the sound of boots slapping against the marble floors. Razfahd’s head darted up as a messenger suddenly swung open the doors to the Imperial chamber. His uniform was ragged, and he appeared totally winded as he panted his way towards the Grand Vizier. Razfahd drew himself up, the fire returning to his eyes at the intrusion.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded.

“Sir – sir, news from the battlefield!” The soldier stopped, bending over and panting raggedly. Waving a hand to beg for a moment to recover, he soon took a gasp and stood up straight. “Sir, the Undead Swarm!” He breathed out heavily, and it was obvious he must have sprinted clear from Al Zahbi to the palace.

“What of them?” There was alarm in Razfahd’s voice. “Are they attacking Whitegate? Are they approaching the palace?” He ground his teeth as the soldier shook his head rapidly. “Then speak, man! What are you trying to tell us?”

He stood at attention again, spitting out his words in a great deluge. “The Lamiae are retreating, sir! They’ve left the field of battle and the Mamool Ja have split their forces in half and now they have no reinforcements on the front lines and – “ he took another deep gasp, his face turning red.

Razfahd, however, was already speaking over him. “Retreating?” He gaped. “Why would they . . . there’s no time to wonder about that now.” Rounding on the Immortals, he raised up his hands imploringly. “There will be no better opportunity than this. We will strike now and drive them back. With the Lamiae gone we will not need the entire palace guard – some of you remain here and defend Nashmeira! The rest of you, with me to Al Zahbi! Let us eliminate this menace!”

A fierce cry went up from the Immortals. Swords were drawn into the air as a circle of them were quickly chosen to stay behind and the others rushed forth into battle. They charged past the messenger, who feebly attempted to regain their attention. His breathless voice was lost beneath their rallying cries and boots clapping against marble floors. By the time he was able to finally get out the rest of his message, the hall was empty.

“Wait!” He cried feebly. “You didn’t let me tell you –“ he trailed off as he realized there was no one left to hear him. “ – about what happened in Whitegate . . .”

His words reached no one as he finally collapsed, the sound of his labored breathing echoing through the palace.


General Rughadjeen sailed through the air, straining to stay conscious. He went limp, landing back-first against the Al Zahbi streets and skipping like a stone upon them until he hit a wall. Groaning, he struggled to his knees, using the algol for support. A bloody gash had opened up on his cheek, mixing with the dust and sweat covering his face. The Elvaan strained, rising to his feet again as a booming sound began growing steadily closer. Bracing himself, Rughadjeen faced down Gurfurlur, charging at him like an enraged Wivre. The Skyserpent stood his ground, meeting the Troll’s fists with his sword. His muscles strained to keep his grip on the hilt as the Menacing’s gargantuan fists tore into his flagging defenses.

A moment later, the ground lurched as Gulool Ja Ja smashed down from a spectacular leap. Rughadjeen quickly slashed at Gurfurlur’s massive frame, causing the Troll to leap back. Just in time, he was able to swing the algol around, meeting Ja Ja’s blades with his own. He parried the lizardman’s stroke, the ringing of steel on steel echoing in his ears. With a heave, he pushed the Autarch away, returning his attention to Gurfurlur. The two exchanged fearsome blows, but the Troll’s strength won out. A shattering punch caught Rughadjeen square in the chest, and the Serpent General collapsed, gasping for air. An indentation of Gurfurlur’s fist dented his breastplate, and he stared down at it as he struggled to breath.

He looked up again. Neither beastman commander was attacking. Their attention had been diverted by something else.

“Where are you going?” Gulool Ja Ja’s wizard head demanded of someone Rughadjeen could not see.

“Stay and fight!” the warrior head ordered, brandishing its sword threateningly.

Something suddenly brushed by him, and he gagged on the stench of swamp gas and stagnant water. A Merrow, he realized, seeing its muck-covered tail slide past him. Then the clatter of bones rattling against one another filled his ears. The Skyserpent finally caught his breath, looking up to find the undead swarm in full retreat. Medusa gently swayed her hips in front of an incessant Gulool Ja Ja, her expression bored and dismissive.

“We have what we came for,” she told him. “Our dance is complete.”

Gurfurlur roared at her in Trollish, and Megomak leaped up and down simultaneously. “This wasn’t part of our deal, Medusa! You’re going behind our back!”

She smiled, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth. “What a funny little two-legs,” she said, and Megomak quickly scrambled behind Gurfurlur. “My Lamiae have won the day. The tide of battle is turning, and we will not dance when we cannot lead.” She glided onwards, leaving an irate pair of beastmen behind her.

“Pay for this, you shall!” Gulool Ja Ja’s warrior head promised.

“Our lines shall surely crumble without their support,” the wizard head warned.

“No, no, no!” Megomak stomped his feet. “The Astral Candescence was supposed to be ours!”

Rughadjeen was on his feet now. Their attention was off of him, and their defenses down.

Gurfurlur growled, and Gulool Ja Ja shook his swords menacingly. “Have Medusa’s hide, we will . . . “ the lizardman swore.

“We can still win this,” Megomak insisted. “If we swing all of our forces towards the Hall of Binding now . . . “

The Skyserpent saw his opening. In a flash, he ran forward with all the speed he had left, swinging the algol in a perfect spinning arc, aimed directly at Gurfurlur the Menacing’s back. Rughadjeen’s speed and skill were both formidable, greater than that of any of the other Serpent Generals they had faced today.

Yet he was still not the equal of Gulool Ja Ja, who lashed out his hand like a whip. Before the algol had so much as creased Gurfurlur’s skin, the lizardman’s sword hit Rughadjeen like a whirlwind, driving him back into the wall from whence he had came. The algol fell to the ground in a clatter. The Elvaan’s head cracked against the stone wall of Chocobo Alley, and his helmet dropped from his drooping head. He struggled to rise, one last time, but a shadow fell over him and he knew the day was lost.

Gurfurlur’s fist smashed Rughadjeen into the ground. The Serpent General’s body cracked the stones, and a gush of blood shot from his mouth. He gave a final twitch, an involuntary spasm which rocked his whole body. Then he went still, sunken in to the streets of Al Zahbi by the Troll King’s power, a red puddle forming around his head. There was nothing left in him to give. Skyserpent General Rughadjeen finally fell.

Gurfurlur took no time to appreciate his handiwork. A roar of triumph broke from his lips, and the ground shook as he began running north. Soldiers were fighting near the Bastion - the Mamool Ja had been nearly completely pushed from the Ulthalam Parade Grounds. It mattered little to Gurfurlur. He simply pushed aside anyone in his way, rampaging forward and nearly creating a new front all by himself. The beastmen in the southern sector began charging north again, spurred on by Gulool Ja Ja. This was the distraction he needed.

With Rughadjeen down, the seals upon the Hall of Binding were broken. The Astral Candescence was in their grasp.

The soldiers of the Empire knew it, too. They were striving to head north towards the Hall and defend the doors, but the Trolls were harrying them from the south. In the confusion, the Mamool Ja gained a new edge, locking the soldiers in combat at the Bastion. Gurfurlur met practically no resistance on his way, and what he did encounter the Troll King easily smashed his way through. He was practically frothing in anticipation. He encountered a narrow gateway, and plowed his way through, widening the entrance with his fists. The scarred gate left a trail of rubble behind him, obstructing the path of any in pursuit. The Hall of Binding lay before him, practically undefended. Megomak ran at his heels, barely containing squeals of glee as he saw the gate in front of him, the seals which had frustrated them so many times in the past now gone.

Clenching his fist, Gurfurlur gave a mighty howl, and then let loose upon the Hall of Binding. His punch was enough to make the thick gates swing open, all locks upon them snapping like twigs. The path to Hall lay open for the Troll King. Wasting no time, he rushed inside.

The sensation of being completely hurled from his feet by a force greater than his own was not one he encountered often. Thus Gurfurlur the Menacing lay on the ground in shocked surprise for quite a few more moments than he had actually been stunned. Haltingly, he planted his hands beneath him, sitting upright and staring at the trail he had made when he was thrown backwards. When his body was thrown backwards, he left a trench in the street from the force. A confused sound escaped his lips.

The doors to the Hall of Binding had shut themselves up tight.

A warding seal blazed brightly above the five which had been extinguished.

“We got here just in time,” Kkel told Pixel, and the Tarutaru nodded with a smile, bringing Gjallarhorn to her lips. From his place atop the Hall of Binding, the Sunserpent General leaped down to confront the strongest of the beastmen.

His red-and-black armor shone brightly in the Aht Urghan sun as he took to the air. The gloves and boots he wore were black with golden inlayings identical to those Razfahd had been sporting. The rest of his battle raiment, however, was uniquely his own. A thick red corazza protected his body, and bore upon it his crest – a blazing sun. When he landed, he straightened with an excited grin. Drawing two curved blades from either side of his waist, Kkel Solaar attacked.

He thought of the oversized rams which roamed Caedarva Mire. The rush of blue magic charged through his body, augmented by Pixel’s spellsong. Unheard of strength flooded his limbs, and he charged forward as one of the beasts would do to one if its foes. Impact doubled Gurfurlur over, striking him the stomach. Kkel deftly avoided the Troll’s attempts to grab at him, slicing his blades at its midsection as he leaped back. He was thinking of the Mamool Ja, an easy task with so many in the city, using their evasiveness against his foe.

Gurfurlur roared angrily, charging forward. Kkel thought of the Puks wandering Bhaflau Thickets, and the confusing images the giant dragonflies created with their rapidly beating wings. The Menacing flew directly past the Sunserpent, already sidestepping his clumsy strike and leaving a phantom image in his way. No sooner was Gurfurlur past him than he began thinking of Imps. The Menacing howled as Kkel unleashed a three-fold strike on his exposed back, ripping into him as the fierce claws of one of the dark messengers would. Gurfurlur swung his arm out, and again the Blue Mage dodged it easily. His swords sang as he brushed them against one another, daring the Troll King to attack him.

Enraged, Gurfurlur ran forward, drawing back his fist. The mammoth Troll’s muscles bulged unbelievably as he tore the ground apart with every stride. With unforgiving power, he smashed his fist into the side of Kkel’s head, whipping it sideways as his other fists rocketed forward, tearing the Sunserpent from his feet as it caught him the ribs. He flew high into the air, his body limp, and came down with a resounding crash.

Gurfurlur swung his gaze about excitedly, and then growled in a tone befitting of the title “The Menacing.”

The seal was still in place.

Kkel Solaar stood up behind him, diamond-hard skin cracking as his thoughts shifted again. “I took that one from you,” he smiled, and Gurfurlur roared in response. Kkel ignored it. He was thinking of the red dragons of Mount Zhayolm.

Blue magic created a crater as the Sunserpent leaped into the air and then came spiraling down. His mass increased exponentially, and when he landed a great upheaval rippled out from the ground. Gurfurlur was nearly torn from his feet as the concussive wave shook him. Kkel stood before his opponent, eyes gleaming the color of his namesake as Pixel played on. The spellsong in the air enervated him, bringing him to new heights of power. Atop the Hall of Binding, the Tarutaru was giving Kkel everything she had. Gjallarhorn’s music was more beautiful right now than any symphony the Serpent General had ever heard.

His mind traveled to trips abroad, and the Manticores of Zepwell Island’s desert sprang to mind.

First there was a billowing of smoke from his nose, and then the aura of blue magic around him went red-hot. Kkel inhaled deeply, the air heating up around him. With a tremendous exhalation, a wave of flame shot from the Blue Mage’s mouth, sweeping over Gurfurlur the Menacing. The Troll King howled as he was overtaken by fire, made all the worse by Pixel’s song changing to swift threnody directed at the brute. With the spellsong making him even more vulnerable to fire, Gurfurlur cried out in pain as Kkel’s heat breath engulfed him.

A final trickle of fire dripped from the Sunserpent’s lips as he cut off the stream. Pixel’s song went silent, and they both watched the inferno before the Hall of Binding as it burned Gurfurlur down. A simpering whine behind him turned the Blue Mage’s head, and he found Megomak watching the scene in terror.

“So, the Martial Maester himself walks in Al Zahbi’s streets,” Kkel said mockingly, his voice still bearing the qualities of a burning fire. “You must think you’ve come quite far.” His aura flared up around him, and a number of thoughts raced through his head. The Moblin was one of the Empire’s most wanted criminals, even since before Solaar had left. It was his money which had purchased the services of the Troll Mercenaries, often for the single purpose of opposing the Empress. If a deal were negotiated between the beastmen and Chiz’s organization, Megomak was almost assuredly the one behind it.

And now, he was in Kkel’s clutches. The Moblin gazed at him questioningly as he sheathed one of his swords. Then he started blubbering when the black lightning of a Soulflayer began crackling in the Sunserpent’s palm.

“P-p-please!” he begged, blubbering at Kkel. “I’ll tell you everything! You’ve got to know I have secrets! Just don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, please!”

“I’m going to put you out of a lot more people’s misery than just your own,” the Sunserpent promised, and the Moblin fell to his knees with a miserable cry as Kkel leveled his blast at him.

“Kkel! Look out!”

Pixel’s voice reached him too late to stop the massive fingers encompassing his skull.

Gurfurlur rose from the flames with an ear-shattering roar, snatching Kkel’s head and swinging the Serpent General about as if he were weightless. He felt his body smack against the door to the Hall of Binding, reflected by his own seal. Gurfurlur ground him into it, and then angrily tossed him aside into a wall. The impact shook his other sword from his hand, leaving him stunned. He came back to his senses just in time for the raging Troll King to wrap a mammoth hand around one of his ankles. Gurfurlur swang Kkel like a club, bashing him into the ground three times over.

Writhing, Kkel’s mind flashed to Lamiae, and he desperately released a sudden burst of blue magic which slapped the Troll across his face. He let go of the Sunserpent, stunned, but not long enough. No sooner had Kkel come back to his feet than Gurfurlur’s fist buffeted him back against the door. He let loose the crackling bolt of lightning he had brought forth for Megomak, but Gurfurlur took it full in the chest and kept right on coming. His enormous arms swung out, and he brought them down like clubs to batter the Sunserpent into nothingness.

Kkel filled himself with Gurfurlur’s own power, and caught the Menacing’s fists in the air. Even as his skin hardened, he could feel the Troll King’s awesome power bearing down on him. The ground quavered at his feet, and then broke apart. The Serpent General began being pushed into his own grave as Gurfurlur’s impossible might crushed him. He wagered he was at least as resilient as a diamond at the moment. As Gurfurlur’s hands wrapped around his arm up to the elbow, it became clear the Troll could crush diamonds in his palm.

“That’s right!” Megomak yelled, and Gurfurlur started bellowing at Kkel in his native tongue. “Gurfurlur says he is the mightiest! All your magic tricks are meaningless before him! Gurfurlur is mighty!” The Troll King barked out a string of words, and Megomak gleefully translated. “Gurfurlur says he will take Al Zahbi when he is done! He says if you are the strongest they have, then this city is done for! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Nothing is stronger than Gurfurlur the Menacing, Imperial! What do you think about that, huh? What are your last words for your better, Gurfurlur?”

Kkel ground his teeth, straining to stay focused. His arms were about to be snapped off at the elbow, if he wasn’t crushed up against the ground first. Blue eyes glared into Gurfurlur’s bulging red as the Sunserpent struggled with all he had to get out his next sentence.

“Tell him. . . “ he grunted as the ground sank in again, the pressure being brought against it more than mere stone could stand. “Tell . . . him . . . “ Kkel Solaar’s brilliant blue aura suddenly flared up higher than it had been yet, before suddenly collapsing down, gathering just in front of his chest.

“Tell him I’m thinking of Wamouracampa.”

A cannonball-shaped sphere of pure energy ripped out of Kkel Solaar’s being. Gurfurlur choked on his orange blood as he was struck. It tore through his body, punching through him as he had done to so many others. It erupted from his back, a fountain of blood pouring out as chunks of dense Trollish bones sailed through the air. Gurfurlur the Menacing, leader of the Trolls, staggered backwards uncertainly. He gaped at the sucking wound in his chest, burned clean through to the other side. Gingerly, he reached one hand up to touch it, and then looked at Kkel, confused. The Troll King took a step forward, mumbling something in his own language, and then his eyes rolled up into his head.

The tremor shook the area before the Hall of Binding as Gurfurur the Menacing fell, collapsing dead on the streets of Al Zahbi.


“Cowards, you are!” Gulool Ja Ja screamed as the Troll Mercenaries broke and ran. They had all seen Gurfurlur fall, and the sight of the greatest among them being killed was too much for even the stalwart beastmen. The Mamool Ja were quickly finding themselves alone against an increasingly emboldened enemy.

“We’ve come so far!” The warrior head shouted. “We can defeat these smoothskins, we can!”

“Mamool Ja, fight!” The wizard head ordered. “Not the end, it is!”

The lizardmen began regrouping, staving off the Imperial forces now threatening to surround them. One more push and they could break into the Hall of Binding, and then they would see how this Elvaan fared against an entire army.

Gulool Ja Ja howled as explosions suddenly rocked the ground at his feet. His soldiers began bursting apart, spilling green blood in torrents as they were blasted limb from limb. The bombardment targeted their front lines, pulverizing the strongest amongst them in seconds. A demoralizing wave of fear swept through them as in droves they began to break and run.

“Yar har har har! Lookit how they run, Akisu!” Arvin laughed as he set off another round of cannon fire. “It was well worth th’ time it took t’ haul these up th’ walls, don’t ye agree?”

“Absolutely, Captain!” Akisu agreed, running across the line of the Proteus’s heavy armament now situated on the walls of Al Zahbi. “The Captain wants another barrage! Load them up, men! Let’s show these snakes that you can’t beat a pirate!”

“You can’t beat the Imperial Army either,” a voice on the ground warned, and Gulool Ja Ja turned to find Razfahd standing before an entire company of Blue Mages. “Surrender!” He demanded, and Gulool Ja Ja hissed at him defiantly.

“Never, smoothskin!” retorted the Autrach, brandishing both his blades.

“You’re finished!” A woman shouted at him, and he saw to his south the Imperial Army had regrouped. Isset and Shoki stood at the front of an invigorated Imperial troop, along with Speed, who appeared completely focused.

And then the gates of Whitegate flew open, and Autarch snarled at what he saw next.

Jinxie strode out from behind them, and at her feet came the assembled citizens of Whitegate. Spurred on by the call of the Sunserpent, hundreds had leapt to volunteer in his name. Brandishing everything from miner’s picks to family heirloom swords, the people of Aht Urghan assembled to stand with their fighting men and woman.

“Your allies are gone and your legions are in disarray,” she declared in a strong, resolute voice. “Leave this city, Mamool Ja,” she drew her sword forth, and hundreds of weapons rang free in response, “while you still have the chance.”

Immediately, the lizardmen began throwing down their weapons. Gulool Ja Ja roared at the soliders as they ran, shaking his swords at them and shouting dire threats.

“What are you doing?” The warrior head shrieked. “Advance! Adva –“

His voice was cut off as another series of explosions shook the ground at his feet. Arvin’s laughter rang out in unison with the shock of cannonballs peppering the ground.

“Mamool Ja, retreat!” The wizard head had seen enough. “Retreat!”

Melting away like a serpent shedding its skin, the last of the beastmen forces fled from Al Zahbi. A resounding cheer went up from their forces. As Gulool Ja Ja himself turned tail and ran from the Empire’s might, even Razfahd allowed himself a moment of exultation. The celebration only grew when Kkel and Pixel emerged from the site of their battle with Gurfurlur. Shouts of victory rang through the streets as the citizens of the Empire relished in their triumph. Their strongest foes had assailed them, and had found themselves lacking.

Jinxie allowed herself a moment to soak it all in. Her weakness was beginning to fade, and she was thinking with perfect clarity. She had done it, everything she had to and more. Now the Empire would assist her with the horror of what was happening across the ocean.

Finally, finally, she could go home.

Chapter LXXIX: Giant Monster Number Two

Isset’s feet scraped the Mamool Ja’s skin as she ran up its chest, backflipping off of it to land atop a Troll soldier. The beastman lurched as she wrapped her legs around the back of his neck. Reaching back, it attempted to throw her off, but not before she thrust the two blades surmounting her knuckles into the sides of its throat. She slipped free as it fell forward, purplish blood spurting from its wounds. The lizardman which had been used as a springboard came at her, swinging its serrated sword. Isset roundhouse kicked it in the face, sending it sprawling. Shoki leaped from her back where he had been patiently coiled. Its arms deployed at the Puppetmaster’s command, and a burst of light shot from it like an arrow. The Mamool Ja was struck in the chest, and gave a great heave at the wound. It fell, and did not rise again.

Two down, and it seemed countless hundreds to go. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Other mercenaries were starting to rush into action from Whitegate as well, while Imperial units battled the beastmen in the streets of Al Zahbi. Already their efforts were starting to have an impact. The monsters the beastmen had in tow were being decimated by the mercenaries, the majority of them adventurers well-versed in dealing with the creatures which prowled the land. Still, the bulk of what faced them was the beastmen themselves. It was all they could do to hold their own against such a host.

The Mamool Ja remained the most pressing threat. They flooded into Ulthalam’s Parade Grounds, with but one more gate between them and the Hall of Binding. The undead swarm bolstered their ranks, and the ever-deadly Lamiae peppered the Imperial ranks from afar. Without Najelith’s unit providing cover for them, the Empire’s soldiers were now faced with bombardment themselves. Mages tried to attack the Lamiae from afar, but such tactics only got them targeted themselves. Isset had tried to reach them several times herself now, but the legions were packed too tightly. Just as the Empire had learned from so many battles with the beastmen, so to were they adapting their tactics.

A standstill was being reached in the eastern sector of Al Zahbi. Meanwhile, in the southern portion, an entirely different battle was transpiring.

The Stoneserpent Zazarg hammered at Gurfurlur the Menacing with his mighty fists. The Troll King grunted as blows rained down upon his tree trunk-like arms. Zazarg laughed, rearing back and delivering a shattering blow with his steel-bladed knuckles. Gurfurlur’s feet bit into the ground as the Galkan general pushed him away from the southern gates. Imperial regulars continued their back-and-forth with the Troll soldiers as Zazarg’s elite strongarms took on their bulky hammer-wielders. Making a bold declaration in his native tongue, Gurfurlur pushed back at the Stoneserpent. Zazarg met his challenge head on, bracing himself against the Troll's unforgiving strength. Beneath them, the stone walkways of Al Zahbi cracked from the strain of maintaining two brutes such as they, neither one willing to move for the other. Suddeny going limp, Zazarg let Gurfurlur fall forward against the unexpected shift in momentum. His punch collided against the Troll King's rounded jaw, snapping his head to the side. Gurfurlur reared back from the blow. He ran a hand aross his jaw, staring down speculatively at the Stoneserpent.

The Troll was clearly larger than the Galka, and had the obvious physical advantage. Still, Zazarg was formidably powerful, and moved with speed which belied his size. Gurfurlur’s mighty fists caught Zazarg full in the chest, to which the Galka skidded backwards on his heels, and then looked up smiling. Rearing his fist back, he unleashed a blistering wave of energy into his opponent. His shattering fist struck Gurfurlur straight on, and staggered the Troll King backwards. Zazarg took the opportunity to rush forward, viciously uppercutting Gurfurlur. With the mountainous Troll stunned, the Stoneserpent hammered at his exposed stomach. The Menacing doubled over, and then Zazarg executed a truly legendary feat. Bracing his arms against the Troll’s barklike skin, he strained his muscles until his veins nearly burst from his skin. With a tremendous heave, the Stoneserpent lifted Gurfurlur the Menacing off the ground, hefting his entire incredible weight over his head. With a powerful hurl, the massive bulk which was the Troll King slammed to the ground, and Al Zahbi shook at the impact.

The Trolls faltered at the sight of Zazarg standing over the fallen Gurfurlur. The Serpent General’s men rallied, pushing the giant beastmen back, regaining ground they had lost. The Stoneserpent reared back, preparing to drive his fist into the Troll’s head, ending it once and for all.

Like a serpent striking, Gurfurlur’s hand snatched the Galka’s head. His massive palm completely encased Zazarg’s skull. Slowly, a growl on his lips and a malicious glint in his eyes, he rose from the trench his fall had created. The Stoneserpent struggled mightily, but the Menacing’s grip was stronger than any vise. The red-armored Moblin by his side leaped up and down as Gurfurlur held Zazarg aloft, shouting at the Imperial army.

“The Boss says, this one is too weak! There’s no one strong enough to face down the Boss!” Gurfurlur brought Zazarg in close, whispering something in the Troll language. No translation was necessary. With crushing force, Zazarg was driven face-first into the ground, and then scraped viciously against the stone. Gurfurlur scraped the gasping Serpent General from the ground, only to smash a fist into his torso. Zazarg spat blood as Gurfurlur once again grabbed him by the head, a smile creasing his face as he looked off into the distance.

The Galka shot through the air like an arrow as he was hurled with obscene might towards the stone walls separating the Trolls from the Chocobo Alley. The Stoneserpent slid down to the ground, his body leaving an indentation where he had struck. Gurfurlur stood, slowly turning his head towards the Imperial opposition. They shrank back from his gaze, and the Trolls pushed forward stronger than ever.

“Gaha . . . hahaha . . . gwahahahahahaha!”

Gurfurlur turned in disbelief. Zazarg’s arm broke free from the ground, and a moment later the Galka pushed himself up. He stood, wavering on his feet. Shaking his head rapidly, he squinted to focus his eyes on the Troll King. His Moblin accomplice quickly hid behind the beastman’s bulk. The Galka and the Troll stared one another down across the intervening distance.

Gurfurlur shouted something in Trollish, but his meaning was clear.

Zazarg laughed again. “Come on then!” He beckoned. “Let’s settle this now!”

The Stoneserpent broke forward at a dead run. Gurfurlur did the same, both picking up speed as they ran. Cries rose from both their throats as they reared back their fists. The gap between them was closed in an eyeblink. With all their might, both fighters swung at one another.

The cobblestones at their feet shattered. Granite cracked and fissured, and the ground quaked. Soldiers from both sides were thrown off their feet from the shockwave as Stoneserpent General Zazarg and Gurfurlur the Menacing both simultaneously struck with all they had. A haze of dust billowed up from the pulverized stone which had been at their feet. In the southern sector of Al Zahbi, there was a moment of improbable silence as Troll and Imperial alike stared at the impenetrable cloud.

A mighty roar shattered the stillness as a fourth seal vanished from the Hall of Binding.


Gulool Ja Ja’s two heads hissed impatiently as Speed continued to fumble his way through a successful defense. The walls of Al Zahbi were beginning to crumble beneath the lizardman’s onslaught as it grew angrier at his foe. Speed handled his Amood like he was juggling it, clumsily slipping it from one hand to the next just in time to deflect the glancing blows directed his way. He tripped over his own feet, stumbling backwards just in time to avoid being caught by one of the Autarch’s swords. The weapon hit the brick wall beside them with such force that it buried itself up to the hilt. With a mighty tug, the Mamool Ja’s leader tore his weapon free, bringing half the wall down with it.

Stone and bricks rained down from upon Imperial and beastman alike as Gulool Ja Ja hacked away at Speed. His frustration grew with every accidental parry and lucky evasion. The Hume seemed almost unaware of what he was doing, and in fact often stopped where he was and then looked up at the Mamool Ja, astonished. However accidentally, he had thus far successfully kept Najelith safe. She lay still unconscious some distance away from the both of them, where she had fallen at Gulool Ja Ja’s hands. The Galeserpent’s soldiers were scattered now, pushed off the walls by Ja Ja’s fierce attack and devastating power. Only Speed remained to thwart him.

“Stay still, smoothskin!” The warrior head shouted, furiously slashing with his serrated blade. Speed nearly dropped his Amood, and as he caught it, the weapon twirled around, coming up to slap Gulool Ja Ja’s own sword away. The wizard head spat fire at him, but he avoided the ball of greasy flames with a swaggering sidestep. Bleary-eyed, he blinked multiple times at the lizardman, and then frowned.

“Whoa, you could really hurt me there, dude.” Speed gripped his Amood in both hands. “I know, I know, this is a fight, right? Man, so not cool. This is starting to kill my buzz, guy.”

“Speak nonsense, smoothskin does.” The wizard head hissed at him, bringing up its longsword.

“Speak no more, he shall!” The warrior head shouted, and they lunged for Speed again. The Mamool Ja Autarch’s blades flashed as he hammered at the Warrior. Each new strike came faster and faster, tearing through the stone walkways and smashing through the walls as they were deflected. Speed’s clarity was growing, and with it the power of his namesake. His moves seemed less often simple dumb luck now. The Aht Urghanian was starting to get faster, fast enough to keep pace with Gulool Ja Ja himself.

Still, the Autarch was one of the most powerful beastmen alive. When both of his heads reared up and let loose a roar of power, Speed was blown backwards, nearly off his feet. The walls shook as the walkway crumbled, now trembling under the lizardman’s weight. With some distance now between them, Gulool Ja Ja ran forward, bringing both his wicked swords forward to slash repeatedly at the off-balance Speed. The first two strikes he missed as Speed continued to reel backwards, practically tumbling over his own great axe. On the third attack, the Hume suddenly found his footing, deftly avoiding being disemboweled. An angered Ja Ja finally caught Speed with the flat of his blade, smacking him against the wall. The Warrior dropped down, recapturing his Amood even as the crescent-bladed weapon clattered to the floor.

Nimbly, Speed hopped away, spinning his great axe skillfully before landing in a defensive position. His eyes were starting to clear. The Speed which had so ruthlessly attacked the Hydra was beginning to show through. For the first time, he launched an assault of his own. Launching himself forward, he rapidly beat against Gulool Ja Ja’s swords. The Mamool Ja’s tan and blue scales glittered brilliantly in the sun as he repelled Speed’s attack, gnashing its two mouths full of teeth at the indignity. He clapped his blades together, releasing a torrent of power which blew Speed away. The Warrior somersaulted in the air, skidding to a halt as his feet touched the walkway stones.

“You have just flat out pissed me off,” Speed muttered darkly. The words left his mouth, and were still audible in the spot he had said them, though he was suddenly no longer there.

The collision of his Amood with Gulool Ja Ja’s swords nearly shook the weapons from the Autarch’s hands. Both fighters stood locked there for a moment, but then the lizardman powered Speed away. With a serpentine snarl, he hurled one of his swords at a blinding rate. It twirled so quickly it looked like a wheel rather than a weapon, but Speed sidestepped it without a thought, grimly staring forward. Gulool Ja Ja stood in place, still holding his remaining sword. The two heads both anxiously eyed Speed as the Warrior glared. In the span of a heartbeat, Speed came forward once again.

Then Gulool Ja Ja’s sword sliced back through the air, returning to the hand of its owner. Speed heard it coming, and screeched to a halt, pressing up against the battered stone wall. The Autarch cackled, leaping into the air as his sword smashed through the walkway. The entire structure quavered, and Speed gasped as it began giving way under his feet. His head snapped up. Just a few yards away, Najelith still lay unmoving, a wall coming down on top of her.

The entire walkway over the eastern gate collapsed as Speed rocketed towards her fallen form. Tons of brick and mortar fell atop of him as he scooped the Galeserpent into his arms. His head finally clear, he took off for safety.

Gulool Ja Ja’s other sword crashed into the crumbling walkway just in front of him. The structure collapsed into a cloud of debris, burying half the gate itself in the wreckage. A portion of the wall itself crumbled down, massive stones and countless bricks toppling over in a spectacular display of destruction. Within moments, there was nothing left of what had moments before been a sturdy wall and broad avenue but a thick white dust billowing into the air.

The Mamool Ja Autarch crunched down into the rubble, powerful legs cushioning his fall. With a jerk of his arm, he tore one of his swords free, eyes hunting about for the other one. He had already counted his annoying opponent amongst the dead. It was time now to rejoin the battle amongst his soldiers.

He never thought to look for the Puppetmaster and her automaton hurriedly ushering two unconscious bodies as far from the fighting as she could manage.


“This is – “ Xaerus’s words were cut off as she was forced to twirl away from yet another arrow fired her way. Medusa fired three more in rapid succession, and the Mithra let out a noise of irritation while engulfing the projectiles in flame. Their ashes fell harmlessly at her feet, but the Gorgon merely smiled.

“You are quite a dance partner, two-legs,” she called out, the snakes which comprised her hair snapping and hissing. “I wonder, can you keep it up forever?”

Xaerus responded by calling up some of the endless debris now at her disposal. Jagged shards of stone and granite shot through the air towards the Lamaie Queen. Raising her arms, she easily danced between them, swiveling her hips rhythmically. Drawing forth another three arrows from her seemingly inexhaustible quiver, she fired them simultaneously at the Red Mage. Xaerus leaped back, letting them spiral past her. The battlefield around the two was scarred with Medusa’s arrows, strong enough to burrow through the stones of Al Zahbi when fired from her bow.

“Tedious, I was going to say.” Xaerus sighed, and once again used her magic to hurtle rocks towards the Gorgon. Once again, Medusa easily slid between them as they came her way. She was too fast for Xaerus to strike with anything besides lightning, and that strategy had proven largely worthless. The snake-woman’s skin would sizzle for a moment, then regenerate as good as new.

Of course, Xaerus was under no illusions of being anywhere near the same level as such a foe. Medusa was a fiend beyond mortal reckoning, an ancient terror brought to life. Perhaps the Lamiae were, as some dark rumors contended, given life by the hands of man. Even if that were the case, a creature like Medusa was far past what science or magic could bring into being. She was the stuff of legend, fairy tale lore and stories used to frighten children, willed into being by no force other than itself. Against such a primordial evil, Xaerus knew she had no chance of victory.

However, she was just fast and clever enough to keep the Lamia Queen from diverting her attention to the real battle. For their transmuting properties to take effect, one had to actually see into the Medusa’s deadly eyes. The Mithra had no such weakness to exploit. Xaerus sufficiently managed to string the deadly snake-woman along, denying her the chance to wreak more havoc upon the Imperial forces. That was good enough for her. She possessed more than enough strength to continue dragging Medusa away, so long as the Gorgon’s attention remained focused on her. More debris sailed through the air at Xaerus’s command. Medusa languidly avoided that which she did not simply bat away, and responded with more arrows.

Of course, Xaerus knew where they were going to strike before she even fired them. Medusa could fire as rapidly as she liked, she possessed literally no chance of ever landing a shot against her target. The Lamia seemed to either not realize or care about this fact. She continued slinking closer even as Xaerus retreated back. All the while she hissed pleasurably, as if this were all some mildly amusing game. Her soulless eyes sought out the Mithra, and smiling she nocked an arrow and let it fly. As with others, Xaerus filled the air with fire, reducing it to powder before it ever reached her. Medusa’s tail slapped against the stones below her as she laughed.

“You are quite the amusement, two-legs,” the Gorgon complimented. “I may keep you by my side. Would you like that? To be my pet?”

“I’ve had better offers . . .” Xaerus responded, sending a whirlwind of debris Medusa’s way. This time she did not even bother to avoid it. She let the Red Mage’s attack swirl right past her, ignoring the heavy slabs of Al Zahbi’s firmament which broke against her scaly skin.

“A pity,” she said regretfully, “I have often wondered what it would be like to have a living two-legs by my side.” She shrugged, and the serpents which made up her hair suddenly stretched out in front of her, their forked tongues hissing wickedly. “Ah, well. A corpse shall dance just the same.”

Xaerus ducked, clutching her hands over her head. Arrows sailed past her from behind. A moment later she was forced to roll away as the spot she had landed on erupted upwards in a torrent of flame. She whipped around, staff in hand, but only just in time to leap aside, an arrow tearing a hole through her cloak. Medusa’s light chuckle caught her ears.

Five, seven . . . ten of them in all. Obeying the unspoken commands of their mistress, Medusa’s Lamiae had surrounded the Mithra. She could feel their malevolent presence in a circle all around her now. Far too many to avoid, even if she knew what they were all going to do ahead of time. And in this case, she didn’t. There was too much to focus on to maintain a clear image. Against such numbers, she would be caught unawares sooner rather than later. She turned towards Medusa, frowning behind her blindfold. For all her clever strategy, the Mithra had still be outsmarted. The Lamia Queen smiled as two of her followers shuffled in by her side, readying a barrage of arrows to put their mistress’s opponent down.

“I only hope I’ve done enough,” Xaerus said aloud. Then, a hole opened up around her, swallowing her entirely. A swarm of arrows passed through the spot where she had been, falling harmlessly to the ground as they passed through empty space. In an eyeblink of undulating black and purple, Xaerus vanished. She had no other recourse if she were to survive.

“A waste,” Medusa sighed, and then immediately turned back towards the battle. The momentary distraction over, she could focus on the Lamiae’s true objective. While Imperial and beastman alike battled for control of the Astral Candescence, she alone sought out the true target of the day.


The southern portion of the city was in disarray. Trolls rampaged unchecked through shopfronts and businesses, looting what they could carry and destroying what they could not. Overwhelmed, the Imperial soldiers were forced to abandon their positions as Troll gunners bombarded them. Thickly-muscled Trolls carrying hammers too large for human hands wantonly smashed their way through the city, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Walking amongst them, surveying with an almost bored expression the sacking of Al Zahbi, was Gurfurlur the Menacing. He occasionally grunted in Trollish at his soldiers, but mostly just stompd along behind them. There was no one left to challenge him, and thus he was rapidly losing interest in the battle. He turned his head eastward, towards where the Mamool Ja were engaged with the Imperials. More fighting was to be had there, as well as the path to the Astral Candescence. Gurfurlur grunted, lumbering onward. Certain victory was satisfying, but he longed for another opponent. It seemed nothing the Empire could produce was worthy of his power. His Trolls marched in to the residential district, Imperials fleeing at their advance. Without their Serpent General, it seemed they were helpless to halt the beastmen's swift and brutal momentum.

Gurfurlur stretched his head out curiously. His men were grinding past the Imperials a moment before, but now tey seemed to have stalled. Soldiers were massing to meet them before the gates of Al Zahbi's residential district. These men had no signs of combat upon their armor as the ones whom had been struggling to hold back the Trolls did. They were fresh, newly entered into the battlefield, and by the decisive way in which they put a stop to the Troll's march, exceptionally skilled. Having trapped the Trolls in a bottleneck at the gate, they were relentlessly pushing them backwards. Gurfurlur frowned, calling out in Trollish as he started stomping towards the front lines. Moments earlier they had been all but beaten. How had this sudden wave of revitalization swept over the Imperials? Where had these reinforcements come from?

Then the Troll King heard a voice caling out above the fray. The words meant nothing to him, he could not be bothered to learn the weak tongue of the Empire. Imbibed within them, however, were a spirit which Gurfurlur recognized right off. This was a battle cry, a call to arms, and one to which the Imperials were responding.

"Do not despair! The Goddess of Victory fights by our side!"

There, in the thick of the fighting, was the leader of the Serpent Generals. Shining armor spotted by dust and blood, his double-bladed sword biting into the Troll's front lines, was the Elvaan Rughadjeen. He had come at last to the aid of his men, bringing with him his elite personal guard to bolster their ranks. His fighting spirit was a blaze which ignited the soldiers surrounding him. Being in the presence of the Skyserpent had brought their flagging defenses back to life, and now the Imperials were gaining ground, forcing the Trolls back one step at a time. Gurfurlur's eyes narrowed as he watched Rughadjeen in action. This, he knew, was the strongest the Empire had. He recognized strength when he saw it, and not even the troubling Galka which had plagued him earlier possessed the power of this man.

A grin of satisfaction creased his lips as Gurfurlur began pushing forward. There would be a challenge for him after all.


There was no rightful description to capture the power in the form of Cerberus. Its power was nothing short of awe-inspiring, palpable in the air as the spike in temperature which accompanied its arrival. The monster tore thruogh volcanic rock like paper as it clawed its way up from the depths from which it came. Lava fell from its mouth, the three-headed beast using fire as normal creatures would blood. Those three heads saw every movement, and snapped with terrible fangs at whatever came close to it. The sheer presence it bore was overwhelming. Jinxie knew before the fight even began that there was no hope of defeating it. By the amused smirk on Chiz's face as he casually leaned against the rock wall, Pixel in his grasp, he knew it too.

Kkel threw his arms up, roaring something in a tongue foreign to mortal ears. Cerberus stared down at the Soulflayer, and then effortlessly batted him away. The impact from the three-headed beast's paw tore Kkel from the ground and sent him spiraling into one of the Troll battlements surrounding them. He cracked the stone with his impact, sliding to the ground limply. Jinxie called out to him, running to his side. Before she could reach him, a wall of flame leaped up at her feet. She skidded to a halt, putting her hands defensively up before her. The black rock beneath her boiled and bubbled as lava from Cerberus's mouth was spat down upon it. She turned to face it, sword in hand. The monster was so vast in scope that she could barely comprehend it. On the other side of the blaze, Kkel began to stir, struggling to push himself upright. His skin had gone completely white, and behind a set of pure blue eyes flickered only the dimmest remnants of humanity. He was losing himself, and quickly.

Jinxie broke to the side, trying to lead Cerberus's attention away from him. Magic swelled up inside of her, bursting to break free as she waited for the right moment. The left and central heads swiveled to watch her, snarling as the right head remained fixed on Kkel. It spat liquid magma again, and the ground at Jinxie's feet became a fiery swamp. She just barely avoided being swallowed by that intensely hot flame, but found her opportunity. Casting a simple spell to alter perception, the Red Mage slowed down its reaction speed, muddling its thoughts and thickening the air surrounding it. Cerberus swayed uncertainly, giving a piercing bark that spilled from the left head's muzzle with confused slowness. As it fought against the enchantment, Jinxie cast a similar spell on herself, but with the opposite effect. Her body felt lighter, her thoughts came quicker, and everything around her seemed slowed down by comparison. Maybe she had no hope of winning, but she could still escape.

She just had to rescue Pixel first. Darting forward, she sprinted towards Chiz, drawing back her sword. The tattooed man was moving at a snail's pace compared to her now. Cerberus bit at her, but his fangs fell short as she easily evaded his clumsy strike, making a leap towards Chiz. It might be too late for Kkel, but she could still save one of them. All she had to do was snatch the Bard from his arms and she could get away.

His hand lashed out so swiftly that she never even saw him move before his slap caught her across the face. She was knocked out of the air, falling to the ground before him as he looked down upon her, laughing.

"Please," he scoffed, "you'd have an easier time hitting the moon. Now be a good girl and let my dog kill you."

"Let Pixel go!" she demanded, dragging herself back to her feet and leveling her sword. Arcane fury sprang up around her as her magic strained to break free. She wanted to strike him down with her power where he stood, but she dare not risk hitting Pixel. "She has nothing to do with this."

He raised an eyebrow, tattoos wrinkling on his brow. "That's kind of a moot point, don't you think? None of you are getting out of here alive."

Jinxie's aura flared outwards, but in the same moment Cerberus struck her from behind. The breath left her body as she tasted blood fill her mouth. The back of her tabard was shredded as she was thrown forward, smacking against the rocks to the suond of Chiz's laughter. Her ribs creaked as she fell from the rock face, ash streaking her hair and skin. Almost instinctively, she threw up a warding of stoneskin, and in the next instant she found herself locked in Cerberus's teeth. It scooped her entire body up in the jaws of its right head with a single swipe. The heat inside its maw was so intense she could feel her skin starting to blister. Only her hastily woven stoneskin charm saved her from being impaled on its massive fangs. When the monster found it could not bite through her, it instead spit her to the ground. She bounced off the basalt, her spell shattering, along with the rest of her magical defenses. Sweat and blood mingled across her face as she vainly tried to scrape herself from the ground. Cerberus turned, its tail scraping the rocks of the confined space as its eyes searched for her.

A bolt of force suddenly struck the beast, drilling in to the thickly muscled shoulder of its right foreleg. It yelped, swinging its heads around towards the source of the disruption. Jinxie, gasping, summoned what healing strength she had to put her body back in order. A stopgap measure, she knew. If it got near her again she was as good as dead. For just a moment though, it was distracted. The Red Mage's heart skipped a beat when she saw why.

Kkel was standing defiantly before the Cerberus, ebon robes billowing in the heat rising from the rock. The Soulflayer's staff was glowing in his hands as he slashed it through the air. Waves of energy struck the monster with every swipe of his gnarled weapon, and he attacked relentlessly. A tenebrous purple light burst from Kkel's body as he struck, finally taking the staff in both hands, lancing out a bolt of eldritch force that struck Cerberus full in the chest. The beast cried out again, yelping like any dog would. Then its three sets of eyes narrowed, blazing with the furnace-like heat radiating from within it. Lava dripping from its muzzle, Cerberus began to growl.

Shaking his staff wildly, Kkel screeched out something defiantly. Cerberus apparently did not care for his tone, and smacked him away with a sweep of its paw. The Soulflayer landed face-first on the rock, a thick purple blood streaming down his face. Without hesitation, he tore himself from the black stone. Jinxie ran to his side, but he was already standing again, keeping her at arm's length.

His pale blue eyes fixed on her, then darted back to Cerberus. His voice came in a quavering rasp, sounding like he was speaking from underwater. Jinxie was shocked he could still speak at all.

"Pix . . . el . . " he managed. "Get . . . her . . . I'll . . . " He stopped, the words lost in a meaningless jumble of sounds coming from his throat.

"Kkel," Jinxie protested. "You've barely got anything left. If you try to fight this . . . "

He screeched at her, a bolt of purple lightning streaking from his staff to crackle against Cerberus's hide. His eyes looked at hers, and she was taken aback by the all too-human sadness reflecting within them. Cerberus roared, spitting flame at the Soulflayer. It struck him like a battering ram, his robes burning as he was thrown backwards by the force. Jinxie cried out for him, but he had already risen, flame sloughing off him as a sinister aura began to envelop his twisted form.

"Worth it," he rasped, "anything . . . for her."

She screamed for him to stop as he once again threw his might against Cerberus. The beast's baleful stare leveled murderously on Kkel as he snarled at it, raining forth the dark magic filling his body. Again, he was knocked down, and this time Cerberus pounced on his fallen form. He barely managed to avoid being crushed beneath is paws as it stomped down upon where he had been. It swiped at him again, seeking to eviscerate him with its claws. Shreds of his robe tore off as Kkel glided backwards. Jinxie caught sight of Chiz, languidly leaning against the rock face, watching the battle disinterestedly. Pixel was still firmly in his grasp, and Kkel was willing to give his life, and more than that, his humanity, to save her.

A sudden image struck Jinxie. In he rmind's eye, she could see Hubby as clear as day.

Her husband had gripped in his hands the great katana they had found in the treasure trove of an ancient Goobbue in the Boyahda Tree. His black hair billowed out behind him, the Mhaura sun gleaming across his armor as he stood resolutely in the path of the advancing demon horde. He turned his head ever so slightly towards her, a sad final smile on his lips. Hard, battleworn features softened as his glittering dark eyes looked longingly back at his wife. He began growing further and further away, and soon he was gone altogether, lost in a swarm of demons he willingly ran into so that she might escape. The echo of his face still held fast in her memory. His laugh, his smile, his voice, his touch. All gone now, left only in her mind. He had willingly stayed behind to make sure she and their child survived. No price had been too great for him if it meant she was safe. Not even his life.

She realized she had tears running down her face as she watched Kkel, battered, wounded, barely able to keep standing, stare up at Cerberus. Pixel seemed miles away, being held in Chiz's grasp behind Cerberus. Yet still he relentlessly struggled against the monster, uncaring of how much stronger it was, how impenetrable its hide, how feeble his attempts. All that mattered was getting her to safety.

All three of the hellish dog's heads were focused on the annoyance which continud to pester it. Chiz was yawning, waiting for the inevitable to play out.

Jinxie took off at a dead run. Her eyes were fixed on Pixel. Cerberus's hide radiated heat towards her, but its eyes remained fixed on Kkel. This was her only chance. She called forth the magic, quickening her gait, propelling her past the giant beast before it ever took notice of her. Pixel's eyes widened, and she struggled against the hand Chiz had clapped over her mouth. Jinxie reached out to her, stretching her arms out to snatch the Bard right out of his grasp.

She gasped as a hand snapped down over her wrists. Chiz pulled her up with one hand, holding her outstretched with a questioning look. Jinxie kicked at him, but he easily avoided her awkward strikes.

"Stop making this harder than it has to be," he sighed. The tattooed man tossed her away, letting her tumble to the ground. "If it helps, I'll wait until after you're dead to kill this Bard. You won't have to watch." He pursed his lips, looking out at Cerberus. "Speaking of which, this has gone on entirely too long. The beastmen are probably finished by now. Cerberus," a smile curled across his lips, "open the gates."

The hound reacted to the command immediately. At Chiz's urging, it stiffened its four powerful legs, heads all stretching upright. Red flames began appearing on its skin as the ground began to bubble at his feet. Jinxie felt a fresh wave of heat sweep through the enclave. Cerberus's eyes started glowing, and Kkel took an involuntary step back. She did as well, moving behind the Soulflayer as whatever terrible power building up within the beast swelled to the breaking point.

And then something happened to Kkel. An inhuman shriek burst from his skinless lips, tendrils flaring out from his face. He hefted his staff before him, and lightning both purple and black started to cascade from his body. A sphere of his power enveloped him, and a chill swept over Jinxie even in the midst of the inferno of Cerberus's fire. She tried to call out to Kkel, but her voice was lost in the sudden explosion of colliding energy.

Everything that was in Kkel poured out in the form of thick, crackling bolts of black lightning. At the same moment, A sphere of incandescent red-and-orange flame erupted from Cerberus, burning through rock and stone with heat which seared Jinxie's flesh. The noise was terrible, shaking the entire canyon as the Troll battlements began melting away. The ground at her feet was turning into tar and magma, and she struggled to breath as the oxygen in the area was burned through. She would have been incinerated in a flash, save for that the bulk of the energy wave was being held back. Like a leaf in a hurricane, Kkel stood at the forefront of the attack, fighting back with everything he had. Slowly, the tide building against him was beginning to move forward. Soulflayers were powerful fiends, absorbing the strength of others, but he simply did not have the power to withstand a monster like Cerberus on his own, and he had nowhere to draw power from.

Jinxie froze for just a moment. He did have one source which had gone untapped.

"Kkel!" She shouted, as loud as she could. "Kkel," her voice was nearly lost in the storm, but she struggled forward, stretching out her palm. The skin started to burn as she got closer to Cerberus's swirling conflagration, pressing down practically on top of the Soulflayer now. "Take it, Kkel! Take the power from me!!" She screamed, pressing her hand against his back. Instantly she felt deathly cold, as if the world were not melting around her. A wail broke through the noise as Kkel felt Jinxie's soul bared plain for him to take.

Like a cocoon, the dark energy surrounding Kkel wrapped around her, closing her up in its grasp. They both vanished within the swirling black embrace, even as the Soulflayer's final attack held back Cerberus's wall of flames. Then the power Kkel was supplying cut off, and it swept over the womb of darkness containing the Red Mage and the monster. Flames cut through everything as Cerberus howled, shaking Mount Zhayolm to its bedrock. The volcano nearby began billowing up smoke as the ground quaked, steaming fissures breaking loose as rivers of magma burst up from below. Fire swept over everything, until there was nothing left to burn.

In the midst of it all, a blinding white light suddenly shot forth from the epicenter. Shouting in surprise, Chiz covered his eyes hurriedly. From his distance behind the monster, not even Cerberus's flames had touched him, yet this brilliant beam was fllling up everything. Cerberus's howl was cut off, and the last vestiges of his outpouring ended in a shattering explosion as the halo swelled up from the middle of it. The beacon shot into the air, spiraling high into the skies of Mount Zhayolm, breaking through the clouds and into the heavens themselves.

Gradually, the fires died down, the quaking subsided, and the light faded away. A stillness settled over the volcanic terrain as nothing dared stir in the wake of what had just transpired. The air shimmered as the incredible heat released sizzled through it. A single breath of air dared stir through, fanning the few dying flames remaining burning across the stone itself.

Jinxie was on her knees. She felt completely drained, barely possessing the strength to even lift her head. Kkel's inky black robe was still in front of her, but her eyes were having trouble focusing on it. She felt lightheaded, and her breathing came in halting gasps. Slowly, she managed to look upwards, perception coming in hazily.

Cerberus was sprawled out on the ground before her, unmoving. The heat from its body was turning the rock beneath it to tar, and it was sinking into the very sediment. A gaping hole festered where its middle head had been, as well as a good portion of its chest. The other two heads hung limply at the side, eyes staring out into nothing. Its wound looked as if some great battering ram had simply punched clean through it. Lava flowed from the open mouths of its two remaining heads, sputtering and bubbling as it pooled beneath it. It trembled occasionally, convulsing as liquid flame dripped down from its wound. Inconceivably, unbelievably, the monster was dead.

Straining, Jinxie raised her neck up higher, realizing something was standing over her. Kkel, she realized. The Soulflayer had survived. He had reached into her soul and taken what he needed to eradicate the great beast. Slowly, her eyes came into focus, staring up at the creature looming over her.

Pitch black robes hung loosely over a body far too small to fill them. A firm grasp held its folds tightly against a thin, yet heavily defined frame. Carefully cropped blonde hair waved in the rising heat as two Elvaan ears twitched involuntarily. A hand was raised in front of a smooth face with a strong jaw. It came down gradually, and a pair of brilliant blue eyes met Jinxie's own. She knew those eyes. They had belonged to a Soulflayer. There were no Soulflayers here, however.

Chiz gave a cry of disbelief as those eyes turned on him, and Jinxie felt a wave of fresh power surge into the air. It cascaded from the body of the blonde Elvaan which had appeared in front of her. An awesome, incredible might welled up from his being, and a too-large black robe fluttered in the wind as suddenly he was in the air, surging towards the tattooed kidnapper. Comprehension dawned on Jinxie as slowly, her senses began to return.

The Soulflayer was gone.

The Sunserpent had returned.