Chapter LXXXIV: Agendas, Part One

The evergreen leaves of the Great Star Tree rustled as they were shaken by the late autumn wind. Colder air was beginning to blow in from the north, and soft dirt of Sarutabaruta was hardening with frost as each frigid morning dawned. With no sunlight to warm the air, ice was being seen in the temperate region for the first time in decades. Above, not a single cloud blotted the sky, yet it was still gray and dark as the heart of winter.

Secure's breath steamed as he looked out from the knoll upon which he stood. Windurst still stood, and his gaze matched the temperature around him. He had leveled its buildings, slaughtered its defenders, defeated its champions, yet still they rallied against him. His glorious war machine had been broken, torn apart by the fangs of the Great Beast Fenrir upon the bloodied streets of the Federation.

Yet his numbers were still vast. Though his behemoths now lay dead and bloated, his legions decimated and demoralized, his numerical superiority was still intact. He had spent weeks grinding Windursts defenders down, a strategy which would yet win him this war. Though less than half of what he had started with, once he reorganized his Vanguard and brought the Kindred to heel, he would storm into Windurst anew. All their struggling would yet prove for naught.

He felt a hand gently brush his shoulder. Soft and soothing, a reassuring touch let him know his plans would still come to fruition. He had strength, the only true thing in the world, and it would guide him to victory. All he desired would come to pass.

Like lightning, his gauntleted hand swung back and struck the person touching him. Blood flew from Cullen's mouth and nose as Secure's slap took her from her feet. She tumbled to the ground, coughing as tears of pain ran down her swollen cheeks. Secure looked down his nose at her, the wind whipping through his silver-gray hair. The black-haired woman was garbed in dull red rags, no longer worthy of the rich Eastern gowns he had dressed her up in. Slowly, she rose, wiping the blood from her chin as she gazed up at him pathetically. Remaining supplicant on her knees, she awaited further punishment for her failure.

Secure spit at the ground on her feet. "Heal yourself," he commanded, walking away imperiously. He had thought the woman a useful tool, but her failure to assassinate the Star Sibyl had proven him wrong. She would serve him now in hopes of redeeming herself, and perhaps that was just as well. His uses for a woman who considered herself his equal were limited.

Several of his commanders were waiting for him. Today they would discuss bringing back together the scattered horde still wandering Sarutabaruta and the neighboring Tahrongi Canyon. Some of the more powerful beastmen from Dynamis as well as Kindred from Xarcabard whom had joined their brethren after they broke free assisted him in controlling his multitudes. Once they had fully reassumed control, they would storm into Windurst once more and lay waste to the Star Sibyl, Meowolf, and everybody else still living within its walls. He would yet see Heaven's Tower in flames.

The large canvas tent wherein his command waited down the slope from where he stood, just past the large, shallow stream which fed into Windurst. He had longed to poison those waters, but it would have been wasted effort, he knew. They would have either purified the contamination with their accursed spells or simply drawn from any of Windurst's many self-contained lakes. As it was now, the water was beginning to freeze over, and a thin layer of ice stretched over the babbling brook. He stepped through it, frozen shards breaking off under his heel, heading for his meeting.

Suddenly the pearl tied around his neck jumped. Momentarily, he stopped in astonishment. It had been weeks since any of the others had contacted him. It vibrated against his chest, and he grasped it in between his armored fingers. Immediately, a familiar voice filled his ears, clear as if the speaker were right next to him.

"Secure," Doshu's Imperial accent still irked the Paladin when he heard it. "what are you doing?"

His surprise quickly faded into suspicion. "This had best not be a social call," he growled, stepping out of the water. Frost-covered grass crunched beneath his boots.

There was a quick, biting laugh. "Your welfare is always in my thoughts, my friend." He spoke with all the assurance of a particularly venomous snake promising not to bite. "I just wanted an update as to your progress."

"Windurst is mine," Secure snarled, his grip tightening on the black pearl between his fingers. "Their death throes have shaken my forces. It will be one more week to regroup, and a day or so after that to take the city and kill all those within." His eyes smoldered. In his mind's eye, he could picture the slaughter which would soon take place.

There was no response at first, and Secure briefly wondered if perhaps Doshu had indeed only wanted to inquire as to his progress. Then the man in black spoke to him again.

"I need you to withdraw from the region."

Secure nearly choked. Rage bubbled into his voice as he angrily shouted back. "I have this battle won! I will not flee from these peasants!"

Doshu's silken voice was calm as ever. "It is for the greater good, my friend. Windurst can wait. It has come to my attention that there are elements crucial to our success in Castle Oztroja."

"What are you talking about?"

"Eudon has found the survivors. One of the five souls we need is amongst them. We were already planning to take the castle for the Magicite inside, this merely pushes our timetable forward. March your forces north, we will need them to breach Oztroja's walls."

"I will not leave!" Secure insisted. "Send the thief or the wizard, this task is beneath me."

"No, you are right," Doshu said soothingly. "There is nothing for you at Oztroja. After transferring command of your forces to Eudon, you will return to Jeuno."

"You arrogant worm," there was cold fury in Secure's tone. "to order me around as such. I am not your puppet, Doshu. I will see Windurst fall. Find someone else to run your errands."

"Don't be a fool," this time there was no honey in the Ranger's voice. "Your petty grudge is worthless to our cause now. You can return later and kill them if you like, but trust me when I say such things will soon be beneath you. However none of that will happen if you start being stupid now."

"How dare you - "

"How dare you!" Doshu shot back. "You know how sensitive everything we have worked to accomplish is. Would you jeopardize everything now? Are you going to ruin everything we have spent years building towards because of your petty bloodlust? This is for our cause, Secure. You let me down here and it might as well be meaningless."

Seething, the Paladin ground his teeth in fury. The pearl strained in his clutches, threatening to splinter under the pressure. He could feel his face flushing with anger. He was to be denied his revenge. The thought of watching the life slip from Meowolf's eyes as he crushed the Galka's throat in his hands was fading away.

But the prize they had their eyes on was so much greater. He hated Doshu for ordering him around like some rank and file peon. More than that, though, he hated him for being right.

"Fine," Secure snarled, letting the pearl slip from his fingers. The cold did not touch him at all. There was too much anger setting his blood to boil.

He would abandon the siege of Windurst. He would go into the tent in front of him and order his commanders to round up their errant soldiers and begin marching to Meriphataud Mountains. He would do as Doshu said.

Then one day, when all had been won, he would make the bastard in black pay.


"Yo, I'm happy for your plan, and I'mma let you finish," Greyheart interrupted Ayn, "but that President guy has some of the best schemes of all time. Of all time!"

Ayn slowly turned his head as his eyes narrowed, a look of revulsion quickly spreading across the Hume's face. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Instead, he turned to the burly guard standing outside the gate of the Elvaan's cell.

"I'll give you ten gil if you beat him into unconsciousness."

"Hey!" Greyheart complained, pushing up against the bars. "That's not fair!"

"You're right," Ayn agreed, looking around the stone floors of Norg's dungeon. It took him a moment, but he located a sizable loose rock, scooping it off the ground and presenting it to the jailer. "Here, use this, I wouldn't want you to bruise your knuckles."

"Ayn," Tikinas said, taking the Thief's attention, "ignore him. We need to focus."

Raking a hand through his wavy black hair, Ayn turned away from the Red Mage's cell. It hadn't taken much to convince President that they should remain locked up. After all, these were uncertain times and you never knew who your friends were. Despite what they had done in Ifrit's Cauldron, it was better to keep an eye on the strangers. The strategem turned out to be a double-edged sword, however. Zealot, Menphis, and Greyheart remained imprisoned for most of the day where they couldn't bother him. Trying to have a conversation anywhere with Tikinas that didn't entail being absurdly ambiguous in order to avoid the hidden ears of Norg, entailed coming down to the dungeon.

So, they unwillingly shared their plans of escape with their unwanted companions, but no one listened to them so it wasn't that big a deal. The guard Ayn knew he could trust. Not out of any sense of loyalty, but because he had lost his tongue to a Sahagin a few years prior. Ayn never inquired how that happened, and the weathered pirate certainly wasn't talking.

"We've got to get out of here," Ayn continued where he had left off before Greyheart's interruption. "President's already cooking up something new for us, I can feel it." He nervously fingered the handles of the twin knives at his belt. "The old man's got us back and now he wants to keep us here. We'll never get out if we don't go now."

Tikinas nodded, her tail swishing back and forth. "The problem is how? He's got every ship in the water, it could be weeks before we even get the chance to stow away. And if we hide in Kazham he's sure to find us out." Leaning back against the dark rock wall, she idly twirled her two kunai in concentric circles on her fingertips. "Maybe we could fake our own deaths?"

Ayn shook his head. "Tried that on him once a few years ago. He didn't fall for it then, either."

The white-haired Mithra curled her lip back in thought. "We could always hide in the jungle if we're willing to rough it out. But . . ."

"But we don't know if the jungle's going to be safe." Ayn sighed mightily. There were still random demons wandering through the bush, and the normal monsters seemed especially agitated. More distressing than that though, Sahagin were starting to disappear from their home in the subterranean tunnels of Sea Serpent Grotto. No one knew where they were going, but the last time there had been a war the fishmen had sided with the demons. There was no reason to believe their stance on that had changed.

"So . . . " Tikinas was out of ideas. Ayn shook his head. He had nothing to offer either.

Both of them slowly turned as the bars of one of the cells clanked loudly. Staring hard at the two of them, Menphis was rattling his cage. The mute guard looked uncertainly at Ayn, but the Thief waved him away. He stood down with a shrug.

"What do you want?" Ayn asked disinterestedly, stepping towards the Ranger's prison.

Menphis's hard gaze met the other Hume's. "Get me out of here."

Rolling his eyes, Ayn turned away. "Once we're gone you'll be either set free or thrown to the sharks. Either way you just have to wait."

"No," the young Ranger hissed, "if you're leaving so am I. I have to get back to the mainland."

"I want to leave, too," Zealot complained from across the room. "It's dark in here, and there aren't any great axes."

"Shut up!" Ayn snapped. "I have my own problems. Let's get out of here, Tiki, this was a waste of time."

The Ninja sighed. "We'll think of something, Ayn," she said reassuringly.

"Oh, Master Ayn?" Greyheart called out as he and Tikinas began ascending the roughly-carved stone steps back up into Norg. Ayn knew he would hate himself for it, but he turned around anyway. The gray-haired Elvaaan poked his face out from behind the bars, smiling brightly. "I just wanted to share an observation with you."

Ayn steadied himself. They surely would believe he slit his own throat. No one would question it. How did all that blood get on your clothes, Ayn? they would ask. I bought them that way, he would tell them, gore and viscera is all the rage in Bastok right now. It sounded totally rational. "What is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Well, without much to focus on except the meaningful conversation," he indicated their mute guard, "I've been able to see a number of things down here, and I thought you should be made aware." Greyheart spread his hands through the bars generously, as if offering something of value.

"Get on with it," the Hume said, exasperated.

"I think you should know, your silent friend there has mastered the art of communicating with hand gestures. There's a whole language of the fingers, you know."

A chill suddenly went down the back of Ayn's neck as his eyes widened. Bounding down the steps, he found himself in front of the Red Mage's cage, peering at him dangerously. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Greyheart nodded. "It's an entire language. And I've observed our guard knows it. Also, from time to time when he stops in to check on us, I've noticed that President speaks it, too."

"Aye," came a voice from the top of the stairs, "that I do."

Ayn clenched his eyes shut, feeling the will draining out of him. "You betrayed me, mute guy." He turned an accusatory stare at the now-grinning pirate. His tone was acidic. "How do you sleep at night?"

Standing with his fists at his hips, President looked down upon them with an expression of mingled anger and pain. "Ayn, what are ye doin? Why are ye tryin t' leave?"

Tikinas stepped aside as the pirate boss slowly descended the stairs. Ayn said nothing as his mentor slowly approached him, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. His shoulders were slumped beneath his heavy black coat, his posture hurt, or perhaps defeated. Ayn had never seen President look this way. He wasn't sure how to feel.

"I can't trust anybody else, Ayn," he told him sadly, "I can't trust them not t' let me down. You, I can always turn to. And ye don't want to help me? Ye're runnin' out right when we need ye most?"

"Boss, I . . . " President waved his words away, stifiling a sob. Slowly, the pirate ran a gloved hand over his face, combing it through his salt-and-pepper hair as he turned away. Trudging up the stairs again, he stopped at the door, sighing heavily.

"Ye really let me down, Ayn. Ye really let me down."

Ayn was about to speak when suddenly President spun around, his arm flashing in the dark. Instinctively, Ayn snatched at the air as something whizzed by his face, missing it by a hair's breadth. The elder pirate's knife struck the wall in Greyheart's cell, embedding itself solidly between two stones. The younger Hume's head arched up as President's booming laughter filled the dungeon.

"Har har har har! I can't believe ye fell for it! The only thing I'm disappointed in is that ye didn't make it off the island before I found ye out. Now round up your friends, I got a mission for ye and ye're leavin' right away."

"Damn you, old man!" Ayn swore, shaking his fist. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders.

"Like I said earlier . . . " Greyheart started saying from behind him. Ayn jerked his fist back without looking, but felt the satisfying impact which sent the Red Mage sprawling.

"President," Tikinas said, giving the Hume a smart bow, "forgive me, but Ayn and I don't want to get mixed up in this." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was very rare amongst dealings with pirates or Tenshodo that one so bluntly stated their reasoning. "We appreciate everything that you've done for us, but we've already helped you once. Ayn - and myself - we've spent a lot of time trying to establish ourselves as just Ayn and Tikinas. Not pirates or thieves or Tenshodo, just us. I'm truly sorry, sir," she bowed again, "but I speak for both of us when I say we'd rather just be left alone."

The old man smiled magnanimously at her, placing a hand on her black-garbed shoulder. Creases in his face became pronounced as he offered his toothy grin, and deep, reassuring voice. "Tiki, yer the apple of my eye. I've watched ye ever since ye were a lass, and now ye're the finest Ninja ever to step out of Norg. It would break my heart to turn down so heartfelt a request from ye." Slapping her shoulder brusquely, he turned around and headed back up the stairs. "So, I'll start cryin' first thing tomorrow, after you lot head out for the Temple of Uggalepih."

"Damn you, old man!" Tikinas snarled at him. She sighed as she and Ayn both exchanged the same look.

"Now look here," President said, rounding on the duo from the top of the stairs. "I understand yer wishes and full well intend to honor them. If ye don't want to be tied down by th' life we lead, that's yer decision, and yer well past th' time when I can order you around. But right now th' world's in turmoil and there's a lot of work t' be done." He looked down on them with those wise, authoritative eyes Ayn hated looking into, as they were right far too often for his liking. "So ye're gonna do yer part to pitch in and see us through the storm. When it's all over, I'll grant ye both yer freedom. Ye'll never work another job for me, nor Gilgamesh, nor even Aldo if he's still out there somewhere, unless ye really want. Deal?"

Sighing, Ayn nodded. "Deal . . .but, the Temple of Uggalepih? What could be there?"

A twinkle shone in the older Hume's eyes. "Someone's waitin' there. I need you to pick 'em up for me."

"But," Tikinas protested, "there are Tonberries in the temple."

"Ye'll have yer friends with you," President offered, gesturing towards the cells.

"Right, but what if all three of them die before Ayn and I can safely escape?"

His laughter filled the dank dungeon again. "Ye both are always so funny. But, I actually have made arrangements for ye - or, I should say, somethin' fell into my lap and I'm takin' advantage of it."

"I know I've done that before," Greyheart called out. Ayn's fist snapped backwards, but found nothing between the bars. He craned his neck around to find the Red Mage rubbing a bruise on his forehead, and standing a safe distance back.

"Allow me t' introduce yer newest teammate," President said, stepping aside. "Or, since she can do it herself, I'll let her."

Metal clanked against stone as a figure stepped into the light. Ayn had to strain his eyes to see up from where he was into the bright spot at the top of the stairs. There was a slim figure standing there, and from the silouhette she cast he could make out a tail gently moving back and forth. Two feline ears twitched atop her head, and the armor she was encased in was near-blinding while backlit in the darkness. He could see the fang-revealing smile on her face, however, as she snapped a smart salute. Tikinas practically leaped with surprise as the newcomer identified herself.

"Pinkfae of Those Guys, rrrreporting for duty, and to rrrrepay you for saving my life!" The Paladin was awake and fully alert, a state she had not been in since they discovered her at the entrance to Movalpolas all that time ago. What really caught his attention was the "Those Guys" part. The woman was a member of one of Vana'diel's most famous linkshells.

"You're all better!" Tikinas exclaimed.

"That's rrrright," she concurred. Her voice was of a higher register than Tikinas's, and she rolled her "r"-sounds like most Mithra did. "And believe me, have I got a storrrry for you."


West Ronfaure forest sprawled out before the city of San d'Oria. In brighter times, this had been a lush, green area, home to abundant wildlife. Red foxes would hunt pheasant through the dense shrubbery, when they themselves were not being hunted by the king's hounds. Deer and rabbit abounded, as well as feral funguars, living mushrooms with legs like frogs. The sun would sream in through the canopy, shedding light upon the peaceful glens. The Knightswell, Cheval River-fed waters a haven for carp, would glitter on quiet mornings where many a fisherman left a lure bobbing in the water while they napped against its sun-dappled banks. Travelers would admire the natural beauty of Ronfaure's hills and valleys while walking along its well-patrolled paths, where Royal Guardsmen kept the people safe from roving Orcs or Goblin brigands.

This was not the Ronfaure Ryu Akanei and Shaohuan ventured into. The trees were blackened with fire, rotted husks barely supporting their own weight. Green blankets of grass which had covered the rolling forest hills had vanished. In their place was ground which was cracked and dried, scorched with the flames of war. Even with his dragon's eyesight, Ryu could not see a single living thing in any direction. Not a bird nor mouse nor monster of the forest, nothing still dwelled in the ruined corpse of Ronfaure. Far off in the distance, plumes of black smoke still rose from behind the walls of San d'Oria. Snow was in the air, but falling only lightly, not near enough to cover up the ugly black spot marring the beauty which had once defined the Kingdom.

Clutching the dark cape flowing from his armor, Ryu moved forward with silent steps, keeping his head low. Shaohuan followed noiselessly behind him, the only thing marking her passage wisps of steaming breath which dissipated in the cold morning air. Only the rhytmic beating of Bo's wings made any noise as he hovered around the Dragoon, his sharp liquid eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The tiny party crept through the gloomy, dead forest, heading eastward at a crawl. Through the steep hill passes was the eastern portion of the woodlands, and it was there they would find the tomb of King Ranperre.

Ryu had told Shaohuan most of what he was going there for. He had explained seeing the rift open in Xarcabard, and his encounter with the Wyrmking. She knew what was at stake should he fail. By and large she had seemed to believe him. As long as she stayed relatively out of the way, Ryu found he was actually somewhat happy for the company. After so long trapped in Ordelle's Caves, the Dragoon found he appreciated the interaction. Bo also seemed approving, often protectively pacing around her when they would set up their camp for the evening.

Nevertheless, there were still some things Ryu had not shared. Such as the message the Wyrmking had given him shortly after they emerged from their encounter with Devul. A raging firestorm in his brain which took the shape of words in the language of dragons. He had brushed off his collapse upon receiving it as a moment of weakness following their battle.

The words did not translate directly into his own tongue, but their intent was clear nonetheless.

Vana'diel's judgment was near. His time was running out.

Questions flooded Ryu's mind. How was he to find Vrtra, a wyrm long believed dead? Would freeing him truly stop Bahamut's fires from eradicating life on Vana'diel, or merely buy them a temporary stay of execution? What was it that the Mithra was forcing the prisoners to carve? Who was the man in black, the one she called Doshu, and what was his connection to all of this? First and foremost, could he really accomplish the task which had been set out for him before it was too late?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed Bo's urgent sense of warning piercing his thoughts. It wasn't until Shaohuan grabbed him by the shoulder that he snapped back to reality, quickly turning his head to see what was the matter.

The Thief had dropped down, belly on the frozen ground as she gestured for Ryu to follow. Beside her, Bo had also left the air, flattening himself as much as he could. Spreading out his cape, Ryu covered both of them in its folds, the dark cloth hiding them against the blackened ground.

"What is it?" He whispered, silently as he could.

Shaohuan shook her head, gesturing with her eyes out over the burnt ruins of West Ronfaure. Ryu turned his gaze to follow hers, trepidation building in the pit of his stomach as he realized what she was looking at.

Outside the gates of San d'Oria, a host was gathering. Lining up in columns twenty and thirty deep, surrounding giant machines of wood and steel, the Orcish army was massing. Heavily armored commanders walked through ranks of grunts, swinging swords and shouting in the throaty Orc language. Demons flitted about, mingling with their ranks of flying above them. Some of their number were the gray-skinned Orcs which had emerged from Dynamis, but by and large they were Vana'diel's own green variety.

As Ryu watched, they began marching south from the city, trampling the already-ruined ground. War machines rolled by as thousands of Orcish feet made the forest tremble, and demons screeched from on high. They kept still as stone as the beastmen made their march past them, headed in the direction of the La Theine Plateau. At such a march, he expected to see woodland creatures fleeing or taking wing, but there were no such beasts left in Ronfaure. Thus the Orcish host pounded through the dead forest, the new-fallen snow the only thing disturbed.

When the first column had passed them by, Ryu rolled over in a flash, tumbling down a short hill to let the earth conceal him. Bo crawled on his stomach down after him, and a nervous fear gripped both of them through the bond. The forest shook all around them as the Orcs made their way by. There he remained hidden, pressed up against the ground as the rocks leaped up at his feet and dying trees groaned. It was a long time before the shaking ceased, and even then he remained there, back to the ground, ears sharpened for the slightest disturbance.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when a whisper hit his ear. "I think they're gone," it told him.

"Shaohuan?" The Dragoon breathed, turning his head both ways, but seeing nothing. "Where are you?"

Then, right before his eyes, the Thief appeared in a flash. He would have yelped if Bo's sense of smell had not warned him where she was at the last instant.

"How did you do that?" He demanded.

"Keep your voice down," she insisted, still keeping herself hunched down low. "It's something you pick up as a Thief. Trade secret. But I was watching them, and they're gone."

"All of them?"

She shook her head. "That was just two detachments. There's still a big bunch of them that I can see near the city." The Hume girl's eyes caught Ryu's and he was surprised to see an uncertain fear lingering in them. "Ryu, what's happening? Where are all the Orcs going? What does this mean?"

Ryu remembered Bahamut's message to him, about the time of judgment drawing near. Resolutey, he drew his cape back, standing into a crouch and resuming his slow trek east.

"It means something big is about to happen, Shaohuan. And we haven't got a moment to spare."

Ducking and hiding, slithering their way through the ruined trees of Ronfaure, Ryu and Shaohuan continued their quest to King Ranperre's Tomb.


"I shouldn't have done that," Bongo reflected for what was not the first time. Sighing, he once more examined the ruined fragments of his broken bow.

"No," Hubby concurred, "but I'm guessing it felt amazing."

"Yes," the Ranger agreed, "yes it assuredly did."

Two weeks prior now they had parted company with North and November. For a brief moment, the two had been united in their victory over Keftenk and the recovery of Guttler. Putting aside their past differences, Bongo and North celebrated the hard-fought battle and acknowledged each other as worthy allies. Then, the following morning, North had made clear his plans to return to the Labyrinth of Onzozo.

"I must reclaim my kingdom," he said as he buckled the still-grumbling Guttler to his side. "This cannot wait."

"Fine," Bongo said, not really wanting to lose the Beastmaster's power, but at the same time understanding of his situaton. "But before you go, you promised you'd have the beasts tell us where we can find more survivors."

"That trifle? They're in Castle Oztroja, if you really want to know." North dismissed the Ranger's question as common knowledge, even as he summoned Panzer Galahad. Fully healed, the beetle happily walked by his master's side.

"Castle Oztroja," Bongo repeated flatly, watching the Elvaan prepare to simply turn and leave.

North flicked an eyebrow up, almost irritated. "I did not stutter. Was there anything else you needed before I depart? I am in a hurry."

"Yes," he replied, gripping the curve of his bow tightly, "you can stand still."

"What - " North didn't get the chance to finish before Bongo broke his bow across the Elvaan's jaw.

November shrieked as splinters of the war bow flew from North's face. The Beastmaster's head twisted around unnaturally as he fell into the sand. Hubby and Luma were there in a flash, holding Bongo back as he struggled to draw forth his knives. The situation rapidly declined from there.

"We were right there!" Bongo shouted. "We were right there and you took us away!"

"You can't . . . possibly conceive . . . " the Beastmaster's breathing was labored, "how much more important this was . . . than your finding your friends."

"You son of a bitch, North!" he raged. "When I get my hands on you - "

"Not if I do it first," a gruff voice growled from behind him. Dantrag tore an axe free from his belt, eyes blazing as he advanced on the fallen form of North. November was there almost immediately, raising her staff defiantly as a tongue of flame burst from its tip.

"Dantrag, don't!" Hubby called, still trying to hold back Bongo

"If you come another step I'll char the flesh from your bones!" November warned him, flames appearing at her feet. The Elvaan raised his axe threateningly as the Summoner called forth her power.

"Stop!" They looked up, then quickly down again, to find Qwid standing between them. The Tarutaru was ablaze with ferocious eldritch force, eyes glowing as he separated the two.

"It's his fault, dammit Qwid!" Bongo snapped, straining to break free from the two Samurai. "We'd be back with the others already if not for - "

"And Keftenk would still be walking around with Guttler." The Red Mage's tiny face was hard. "We know where they are. Let's not waste time fighting amongst ourselves."

"He struck North!" November hissed, the ground undulating beneath her as she pointed furiously at Bongo, crouched down at North's side. "This will not go unpunished!"

Qwid turned his head slightly, sparks leaping from his eyes as they fell on the Summoner. Bongo saw her gulp as a wave of the Tarutaru's power swept past her.

"Don'taru push your luck," he warned.

"I think perhaps," Hubby managed, pulling back to keep Bongo from lunging, "it's time we go."

"Nice meeting you!" Luma smiled at the duo from Onzozo. It was not much longer before they parted ways, abandoning the Valley of Sorrows and beginning their long journey back from where they had come.

It was when they had arrived upon the bleached sands of Valkurm Dunes that Bongo had requested their detour north. After much conversation and convincing, the five had gone across the La Theine Plateau, up into the blighted forests of Ronfaure. They had been appalled at the devastation as much as they were the sight of Orcs freely roaming the forests. Dantrag had stopped cold at the scene, witnessing his beloved city in ruins. Only through intense convincing that they would see this right did he agree to keep on moving. Concealed by the ebon skies of Dynamis, they slinked past the greenskins, and made it safely to Bongo's objective.

As frightening as the prospect of a San d'Oria overrun with Orcs was, equally unsettling was the discovery that Fort Ghelsba was almost completely abandoned.

The sprawling encampment wherein the Orcs made their fortress was practically bare. Naught but some roaming lizards and empty tents whose open flaps beat against the chilling winds. Winter was quickly encroaching, and already a smattering of white was decorating the landscape. The stream which ran through the Orcish base was hidden beneath a layer of ice, though Bongo could still feel the presence of fish running through the frigid waters. Try as he might though, he could sense not a single beastman anywhere in the area. Ghelsba had been emptied.

Whatever that portended, it would have to wait. For now, he was happy for the absence. It made his task that much easier.

"Yughott Grotto?" Hubby questioned as they entered the series of caverns. He eyed their surroundings suspiciously, fingers on the hilt of his great katana.

Bongo nodded. "It's a shortcut." Peering into the darkness, he could see a few bats hanging from the stalactites, but not an Orc in sight. "We'll get there faster this way."

"Ronfaure's connected to the Outpost, the Outpost connects to the Grotto, the Grotto connects to . . .Horlais Peak." Luma smiled her fanged smile, winking at Bongo as she sang. "And that's the way it goes. HA!"

He cocked an eyebrow at the eccentric Tshayan, but confirmed her suspicions. " It's like Luma says. We'll be there soon."

"So what's up here?" Qwid inquired as they neared open air again some time later. The wind was bringing wisps of snow their way, alerting them that they were coming upon an exit to the sprawling caves. The Tarutaru removed his cornered hat, using it to shield his face from the cold.

"It's a long story, but there's really only one important part." Bongo took hold of a rock, pulling himself free of the tunnels. "It starts with my father - Genji Demynix."

"Genji Demynix?" Hubby exclaimed, and Luma's eyes went wide as well. "Your father was Genji Demynix?"

Bongo cracked a smile, brushing a hand through his black hair. "The very same. What, you think these good looks are an accident? It's all in the blood, friends."

"Who's Genji Demynix?" Qwid asked, looking puzzled.

"He's a true genius," Dantrag said, looking at Bongo as if seeing him for the first time. "I never suspected."

"The master!" Luma exclaimed. "Reknowned, a legend in his own time! And also a lover of wine and a cheater at cards."

"Nobody ever proved that," Bongo snapped.

"Genji was the greatest swordsmith of the last era, and perhaps the greatest Samurai as well. If not the best, he certainly trained some of the best." Hubby recited the facts with practiced ease. Everyone who studied the art of the Samurai in the last three decades learned about Genji at some point or another. "They say he could clip the wings off a gnat from fifty paces with an arrow, and cut a treant in two with a single stroke of his blade. He was the Samurai who introduced the way of the spear into standard combat training. I'd heard he had two sons, but I had no idea . . . "

"It's not a fact I put out there a lot," Bongo's voice was distant. Leaning down, he took hold of Qwid's arms and pulled the Tarutaru free from the cave, and all four stood upon the span of Horlais Peak. The view from the top went on for yalms beyond measure. They could see all of Fort Ghelsba and its outpost beneath them, and the entire expanse of Ronfaure beyond that. Stretching out from East Ronfaure, Bongo's sharp eyes could make out the Ranguemont Pass, the mountain trail which was the sole land route to the Northlands. Even there on the horizon, he could see distant snow-capped peaks which could only be Beaucedine Glacier. Further east from Ronfaure was the densely packed woodland of Jugner Forest, and Bongo was convinced that on a clear day, he would be able to see as far as Jeuno. They all paused to take in the incredible sight. Even with the darkened sky above, and the sight of San d'Oria below, there was no denying the breathtaking beauty of Vana'diel.

"From here," Luma's voice was solemn, "it's still so pretty."

No one said anything for a long moment. They simply basked in the truth of the Mithra's words.

Bongo drew in a cold breath, folding his arms over his chest into the folds of his leather jerkin. "Anyway," he continued, "I thought it was more important to make a name for myself. So I don't go touting my last name."

"But you called yourself Demyn?" Dantrag queried. "Isn't that a little on the nose?"

The Ranger shrugged. "Sometimes it's easiest to hide in plain sight. Everyone who knew my father's reputation assumed I was just one more person trying to emulate the master. Besides," he clarified, "Demyn was a name I earned."

"Alright," the Warrior replied, "I'll give you that. But what does your being Genji's son have to do with this place?"

Bongo took a long gaze into the distance. The wind whistled, breathing across the frozen surface of the mountain stream before them. Qwid gestured briefly with one hand, creating a bloom of heat which warded off the chill.

"This really is a beautiful view," the Hume said after a long moment. "I always cursed him for making it this difficult to come see her, but whenever I do make the trip I'm reminded of just why my father buried my mother in this spot."

Nobody spoke, though a ripple of surprise ran through the small fellowship. Bongo slowly raised his finger towards the banks of the stream. What looked like a random gathering of rocks leaning against the water was, upon closer inspection, a polished grave marker surrounded by smooth stones. Etched in its surface in a carefully written script was a simple epitaph.

"Tomoe Aizu Demynix - May Her Grace Light the Heavens."

Bongo paused in front of the stone, saying nothing as he stared down. Dantrag moved closer, but Luma snatched his arm, shaking her head. They remained still, watching the Ranger as he stood over his mother's grave.

"Hi, Mom," he chuckled, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long, huh? I hope you've been alright. I know we don't talk very much anymore." His smile slowly faded as he spoke, drawing in a breath. "I'm sorry I haven't been to see you in so long. And I'm sorry I'll be gone for awhile after this, too." The Ranger sniffed, roughly rubbing his eyes with a leather-gloved hand. "I'm sorry I couldn't find Xaekid, Mom. I swear I never stopped looking."

"Xaekid?" Luma whispered. "What's that?"

"Bongo's younger brother," Dantrag answered quietly. "He almost never mentions him."

The Mithra tilted her head. "Aren't they close? Sibling rivalry, maybe?"

"Xaekid was killed," the Elvaan said simply. "He died during a battle against Orcs many years ago. Bongo spent years searching for a sign that he might have survived, but . . " The Warrior raised his head, looking at his friend with a pained expression. "Bongo's the best hunter in the Middle Lands. And he never found anything."

Luma lowered her head, white hair tumbling over her eyes. She remained silent as Bongo spoke again.

"Things are pretty bad, Mom," he continued, his voice wavering. "I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure what will happen to me, or any of us. But, I've decided to fight, as hard as I can for as long as I can. I'm going to find out what caused this and make it right again. And if I can't . . . " he sniffed again, running a hand down over his face and then giving another brief chuckle. "If I can't, I'll see you and Xaekid again soon. Okay? So we'll win one way or the other."

Bongo bent his knee, leaning down into the frozen grass before the grave of Tomoe Demynix. From his side, he clutched the hilt of one of his daggers, pulling it out of the sheath with a metallic ringing sound.

"Bongo?" Hubby moved towards the Ranger as he raised the blade upwards, holding it over the stones. Then in a flash, he brought it down, directly into his mother's gravestone.

It sank into a hidden slot in the rock, and an audible click sounded through the mountaintop. Bongo stood, withdrawing his knife as the water in front of the grave began to bubble and froth. The others watched in amazement as he strode out into the pond, breaking through the thin autumn ice to wade into the water beneath. With a sound like shattering glass, a long box made of wood and encrusted with jade broke through to the surface. The Ranger wrapped his hands around its twin brass handles, wrenching it forth from the water and heaving it onto dry land. His feet and hands soaking, Bongo stepped out after it, once again leaning down to the ground and flipping open the latches sealing it shut.

The lid slid aside with the sound of wood grinding against wood. Gathering close around it, the others leaned in to see what was inside.

Resting against a velvet cushion lining the box, two great katanas lay embedded. Taking hold of the longer one, Bongo removed it from its rest. It had a long, flat blade of black steel, on a tightly wrapped grip with no crossguard. Slowly, he slid it onto his back, where it fit perfectly into a gap between the two quivers of arrows strapped across his shoulders. Once it was in place, he pulled out the other sword, a slim weapon still wrapped in its sheath.

"Hubby," Bongo said softly, "this was one of my father's swords. You're letting me use your bow," he indicated the short black-and-white Samurai bow by his side, "it's only fair I return the favor."

"One of Genji's katana?" His voice was almost reverent. Bongo gave a short laugh.

"This one is more of an heirloom, I think. Not my father's best work." He drew out the blade, showing it was chipped in several places. The Ranger slammed it back into the hilt. "Still, I'd prefer knowing it was in safe hands."

Hubby took hold of it, looking his friend square in the eye. "I'll do it honor," he promised.

"And I'll hold on to Hagun for the time being." The Ranger took another long look at the empty box in front of him before sliding the lid back, latching it shut once more. The weapon secure, he slid it back into the water. They watched as it slowly sank beneath the surface, bubbles rising to the top quickly at first, and then gradually diminishing as the box returned from whence it came.

Bongo watched it go, his eyes distant. He turned with a half-hearted smile when Dantrag clapped him on the shoulder. One final time, he wiped his eyes, frozen tears vanishing into the soil below.

"Well," the Ranger said, visibly shaking off whatever was on his mind, "I think it's time to get going."

"You're sure?" Hubby's tone was concerned.

He nodded, a smile breaking through. "Absolutely. Let's get a move on guys. It's time to find our friends."


When she had last been in the Imperial Throne Room of the Empress Nashmeira, Jinxie had been awed by the extravagant beauty of the palace. Even the simpler, far more confined Imperial Chamber held within it a quiet but pronounced power. No one who entered the enormous brass doors which led to the Empress could help but feel humbled by the aura of the palace itself. Jinxie had been no exception upon her first visit. Now she barely noticed her surroundings. They were unimportant, insignificant. Every second she spent here was one that could be out searching for her son.

But she couldn't, not yet. There were things that needed to be done, preparations to make, plans to conceive. She was trying to remain calm and think her way through things, but the thought of her defenseless baby in the hands of the Lamiae was just too much. It was all she could do to keep her focus on what was happening around her.

They had all gathered in the Imperial Chamber, in the presence of the Empress herself. The Imperial Puppetmaster, Aphmau, was there as well, with her two puppets Ovjang and Meijang. Razfahd had removed his corazza, returning to the more official robes of his office. All six Serpent Generals were together, Gadalar, Mihli, Najelith, Zazarg, Rughadjeen, and Kkel, with Pixel by the side of the latter. Not a single one of them wasn't sporting some sort of bandaging or poultice, yet they had managed to make it for this gathering. Isset and Speed stood behind Jinxie, and even Naja Salaheem and Abquhbuh had been allowed in. Conspicuously absent was Xaerus. The Mithra had not been seen since her battle against Medusa.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Xaerus now. Her riddles and secrets had grated on Jinxie since the beginning of their quest. Yet she had always been helpful in dealing with others in the Empire, especially Razfahd. Now, when she needed her the most, the blind woman was in the wind, with no clues as to her whereabouts. That left her alone to take on the Imperial Court.

She didn't want to do this. She wanted to go after her son. She wanted to make the Lamiae pay for taking him. She wanted to collapse to the floor and cry. But she couldn't. She had to remain strong. Thus she kept her back straight and her chin up, betraying as little as she could about what was in her heart as Razfahd began speaking.

"I do not know," he began, stepping before Nashmeira's dais, "if the turmoil in the Middle Lands is related to the individuals I have been working with, but I would not find it surprising to say the least."

"Razfahd," came a voice from behind the curtain, "tell us what you have done. Everything you know that might be of use."

The Grand Vizier's lip curled, but he still gave a perfunctory bow. "Yes, Empress, I was about to do so." Clasping his hands behind his back, the Imperial's eyes turned on Jinxie. "Roughly six years ago, I was approached here in the palace by a man who identified himself as Doshu."

"Doshu," Rughadjeen repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"Wait a minute," this time it was Najelith, the Hume woman reflectively staring up at the ceiling. "Doshu . . . there was a Doshu amongst my personal archers some years ago."

Razfahd turned his head to the Galeserpent. "What do you remember about him?"

She put a thoughtful hand against her chin, tapping her foot as she struggled to recall. "He was from the border cities, I remember. One of the outlying territories. A good shot, and ambitious, too. He was always willing to undertake dangerous assignments." Najelith paused, trying to think of anything else, but ultimately spread her hands. "He vanished several years back. We were defending the city from the Trolls, and after the fight he was nowhere to be found. I always assumed he'd been captured, or killed."

"If it is indeed the same man, then he has gone far beyond a simple soldier," Razfahd said darkly. "He exuded a presence I have not felt before. The power he wields now is frightening. He wears a ring and a cloak which appear crafted from the night itself, and holds a silver gun that I would swear had a life of its own."

Kkel gave a start. "Him!" The Blue Mage's hand went for his sword, only to realize that there were no weapons allowed in the Imperial District. Without a blade, he began exuding a blue aura instead. "That's the man in black I encountered in Quon. He's the one who tried to kill Pixel! You were working with him!" He lanced an accusatory finger at the Grand Vizier, eyes full of fire. "It was a set up after all!"

"Kkel, calm down!" Rugadjeen implored, stepping in front of the other Elvaan. Zazarg quickly moved behind him, ready to restrain the Sunserpent even as Gadalar began calling forth a fiery shield.

"Kkel," Pixel said, smiling up at him, "I want to hear what he has to say."

He looked down at the Bard, then to Razfahd's glaring eyes. Frowning, Kkel released his power, standing down. "Let's hear it, Razfahd." The other Serpent Generals all breathed a visible sigh of relief.

"I'll thank you for no further outbursts," the dark-eyed Grand Vizier said haughtily. "The facts are this. I knew nothing about any sort of attempt on your life, Sunserpent. The assignment I gave you was very real, though none of us have any reason to believe the Blue Mages you were sent to track down were not also in league with Doshu. His schemes are like a web carefully woven to catch as many insects as possible."

"What did he offer you?" It was Aphmau, the blonde-haired girl in red, sitting on a large pillow beside the Empress. The two puppets in her command stood languidly in front of her, facing towards the Grand Vizier. Razfahd's eyes drifted upwards, taking on a reflective state.

"He promised me an end to the beastmen raids upon our city. All I had to do was keep the Empire out of the affairs of the Middle Lands." He returned his imperious gaze to the others, not a hint of remorse showing. "I did as I was asked, recalling all of our ambassadors and scholars abroad. Sure enough, sieges against Al Zahbi dropped significantly as soon as the bargain was struck. I'm not sure how he did it, but he was able to keep the savages away from our Astral Candescence." Razfahd faced the gathering, his jaw stiffening. "No matter what else happened, the end of those attacks have saved countless Imperial soldiers and citizens over the last year. I have no regret for my actions."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Rughadjeen asked.

"That was the first and last time. Since then all of our dealings have gone through a surrogate - the man you saw prior to the attack, Chiz."

"So, fergive me, your Majesty, Grand Vizierrrr," Naja Salaheem stepped forward as she spoke. The diminuitive Mithra looked at a loss as to what to do with her hands without her crushing mace nearby. She continually shifted between having her hands clasped in front of her, folding her arms, or shoving them in her pockets. "I have to ask, what exactly was this Doshu fella's plan, anyway?"

Razfahd shrugged. "I only know that he required we remain away from the Middle Lands. The root of his scheming no doubt lies there."

"Whatever it was," Mihli Aliapoh mused, "it must have been, or perhaps still is, very delicate."

Eyes turned to face her. "How do you figure?" inquired Aphmau.

The Mithra's ears twitched as she thought. "This Doshu has obviously gone through a lot of trouble to do whatever it is he's doing. He's calculated things that could interrupt his plot and planned well in advance to neutralize them." She looked around the room, assessing each face in turn. "In making the Empire withdraw, he still planned to remove Kkel Solaar so as to weaken our military, just in case. Attacks on the city itself dwindled, but more and more beastmen have forced us to divert forces away from the capital to defend our outlying villages, even as the war in the Far East grows more intense. Knowing now that Doshu was likely dealing with the beastmen behind our back the entire time, it seems likely each new trouble was another layer of his scheme. In other words, just because he made sure the Empire wouldn't interfere right away didn't mean things would not change in the future, so he planned ahead to further bind us should the situation call for it."

"Sounds like a real character, this Doshu," Zazarg mused. "I wonder what else is going on because he's dipping his fingers into everyone else's business."

"We've got to find him," Kkel slapped a fist against an open palm, his expression resolute. "He's an enemy of the Empire. That's all the justification we need, not that we don't have plenty more."

"I recommend forming an expedition to the Middle Lands," Rughadjeen put forth. "We can begin planning immediately."

"But we can't know how long the beastmen scum will stay down," Gadalar protested. "Now's not the time to weaken our own defenses."

"Can we really let this criminal roam free?" Countered Najelith. "There must be an option which - "

"None of this is helping me find my son."

The conversation dropped immediately. All eyes fell to the center of the room, where Jinxie stood. She was shaking, her fists clenched tightly inside black gloves, eyes downcast as she held back her tears. Whether they were of sadness or rage or frustration she could not even tell herself anymore. Everyone else in the room looked away uncomfortably, save for Isset. The Puppetmaster laid a hand on Jinxie's shoulder, and she was instantly grateful for the support. Pushing back her emotions, she lifted her chin and stared down Razfahd and the others.

"My son." She stated simply. "We're going after him."

The Grand Vizier cleared his throat. "Yes . . . we will aid you however we can, but you can't expect . . . "

"They took my baby!" She screamed at Razfahd, advancing on him dangerously. It was impossible to deny the satisfaction of watching him flinch. "I lost my child to save your city and you're going to help me get him back."

"Of course," he said, trying and failing to sound unruffled. "However - "

"No, Razfahd. We will give her anything she requires."

The Hume staggered as if struck, then swiveled his head to face the curtain before Nashmeira. The Empress was sitting with her back straight, looking directly at her Grand Vizier. Razfahd turned and looked at Aphmau, but the blond girl only shrugged. Clearly restraining anger, he cleared his throat as he addressed the ruler of the Empire.

"Your Majesty," he began, "I realize we must repay the Bastokan, but surely apprehending Doshu - "

"You will do as I command," her voice took everyone in the room aback. "The full resources of Urghuum will be at Jinxie's disposal." Razfahd opened his mouth, but was cut off immediately. "This, I command!"

The Grand Vizier worked his jaw, but no sound came out. From her pillow, Aphmau giggled, and her two puppets hid their faces.

"Thank you, Empress Nashmeira," Jinxie breathed, bowing her head. "But I don't . . . I don't know where to start . . ."

And then a powerful presence asserted itself before her. She looked up to see the calming blue eyes of Kkel Solaar giving her a reassuring gaze. He smiled at her, and then turned to address the Empress.

"Your Majesty, if I may," he asked.

"Of course, Sunserpent."

He nodded. "We know Drake was taken by the Lamiae. We have no reason to believe they would not return to their home in Caedarva Mire."

"It's true," Najelith confirmed. "None of our forest scouts reported seeing any of them venturing away from their normal path home as they retreated."

The Elvaan nodded. "A full military strike against the Mire would be costly and ill-advised, but so would sending Jinxie in when the Lamiae will no doubt be on full alert. Therefore, I recommend we distract them while she and a small team insert themselves unseen to find Medusa and recover her son."

"Distract them how?" Razfahd queried. "And whom would take on this role?"

"Pixel and myself, naturally," he gave a wry smirk, and Pixel smiled at the Grand Vizier. "As for how, I've got a plan." He turned to the other Serpent Generals, and they each took a step closer. "I'll need each of you to handpick some soldiers for me. Once that's done I'll lead a series of assaults against the Lamiae's main outposts. Periqia, Ilrusi Atoll, and Leujaoam Sanctum. Using the Runic Portal, I should be able to practically be in all three places at once."

"This will force the Lamiae to move their attention in three different directions. With the bulk of their army distracted, Jinxie and a small team can move in undetected," Pixel followed up on Kkel's thinking. "It should be no problem at all for her to confront Medusa and take her son back."

"I know she can do it," Isset confirmed, "and I'm with her all the way." Shoki leaped up at the proclamation, spinning in the air.

"Rrright," Naja said, "and Speed, you're going, too."

"Wha? Where? Oh." The Warrior sighed, hooking his thumbs over his pockets. "Alright, alright."

"Lady Naja, will two mercenaries really be enough?" Abquhbuh pushed his glasses up his nose, fretting. The Mithra took on a speculative look, tugging at one of her brown ponytails.

"You're right, Abquhbuh. Jinxie, I'm going to find some more help for you. I've got two people in mind. I'll have them ready as soon as I nail their sorry hides down."

Jinxie took a deep breath. "Thank you, Naja."

"Then it is settled," proclaimed Nashmeira. "Begin making preparations immediately. We will not fail!"

The small crowd converged, plans being spoken at a rapid pace from all sides. The general chatter became a dull roar in the small Imperial Chamber. Kkel conversed with the Serpent Generals. Razfahd shared a hushed exchange with Aphmau. Isset and Naja discussed mercenary options with Abquhbuh. For a moment, Jinxie was left alone in her thoughts.

They were going to go after Drake. Everyone was willing to help her, as much as she needed. She would have the opportunity to lead the quest to rescue her son personally. Nashmeira, Naja, Isset, they were all placing a lot of faith in her. They believed in her.

As the talk swirled around her, she wondered how they would feel if they knew she had lost all her power.

Chapter LXXVI: The Battle of Windurst

Books lined the walls on shelves bowed with age and wear. Some tomes were only a few pages long, hastily bound together with twine. Others were voluminous, leather-bound scriptures almost as wide as they were tall. Books of every size and color reached from ceiling to floor. On a wooden table in the middle of the room were a collection of vials and tinctures, scrolls rolled up and tightly bound with ribbon, and candles burned down to the wick. More such objects were collected on another shelf. Jars, some labeled and some blank, sat beside half-emptied bottles of ink. Notes were scattered about, some hastily scrawled, but most of them carefully penned in large, block handwriting. A few of these were written in plain tongue, however by and large they were collections of runes and symbols of magic, or languages which had long since faded from Vana'diel.

Dieggo stood stiffly, fists clenching and unclenching. The look on his face was indiscernable. As Meowolf descended the stairs into the strange chamber, the Tarutaru paid him no heed. He only continued scanning the room, his dark eyes clouding over even more. The scythe in his hands was beginning to tremble. With some effort, the Tarutaru restrained himself. There was a touch of wistfulness on his face, somehow pervading beneath the fury at the Stary Sibyl's abduction.

"The Sixth Ministry," his voice was only barely audible, "the Animastery."

Meowolf looked over the dust-encrusted floor, noticing now the curtain of cobwebs draped from the low ceiling. "It looks completely abandoned. What happened here?"

Standing still for only a moment, Dieggo began marching forward again. "Unimportant right now. There!" He pointed to a set of tracks still stamped in the dust. "She's headed out for Toraimarai Canal. Hurry!"

Moving like a freshly shot arrow, the Ariesian Captain tore across the room and flung open the stout wooden door which was the room's only other exit. Meowolf strained as he followed him. His muscles were stiff from disuse, but they were beginning to loosen. His chest still burned with every step, but he was beginning to ignore it. He focused on what lay ahead. They had to rescue the Star Sibyl. No matter what else happened, Windurst could go on if she were still alive. If not, then that was the end.

He thought also of the woman who had taken her. If he could rescue her as well, he would. The Galka trailed distantly after Dieggo, hoping that in some way, he would still be able to save Cullen.


The gates of Port Windurst buckled once, oak splintering and steel bending. They buckled again, a terrific crash bringing one of the massive doors off its enormous metal hinges. A third impact and Shiva’s Gate blew apart completely. The Vanguard rushed in, howling madly. Three combat units were there to meet them. The Piscean and Scorpion Combat Casters, along with the Wildcat unit. Their respective Captains were all in place, but it was Semih Lafihna herself in charge. Without hesitation, she ordered her soldiers to meet the oncoming tide. Magic in such amounts as to distort reality itself met the Dynamis horde. Their first wave was wiped out in seconds, lost in a churning sea of Windurstian power. The ground boiled, the air turned to poison, and the entry to Port Windurst from West Sarutabaruta became a pestilent bog of eldritch fury.

Then the second wave came, plowing right through it. The Federation forces met them again, fighting tooth and nail to keep them back. Semih Lafihna’s bowstring was a blur as her Patriarch Protectors created a rain of death upon the Vanguard. The Mithra fought harder than any demon. With the magic of the Tarutaru behind them, it seemed for a moment that they might push them right back outside Shiva’s Gate and into Sarutabaruta itself.

The moment the first Behemoth appeared, that moment was lost for good. It trampled down the walls of Windurst, toppling over stone and mortar like children’s blocks. The great horned beast sowed chaos in the Windurstian ranks almost immediately. Momentum now in their favor, the Vanguard surged forward as the Behemoth stomped through anything in its path. Within moments, the ground before Shiva’s gate was lost. Nightmares began pouring in, reinforcing the Vanguard line as Semih Lafihna ordered her troops to fall back. Lethal surges of fire and lightning rained down over the Vanguard, but despite their casualties they pressed forward, leaving Windurst’s dead as well as their own behind them. The Behemoth roared angrily as it too was seared by magic, but it appeared only infuriated rather than hurt.

Losing ground at every step, the appearance of another Behemoth at the fallen city gates only further through the Windurstians into dismay.


Tyrian’s arrow struck out the eye of one of the monstrous Nightmare dragons. It howled out in pain, and was instantly the target of a dozen Librans looking for just such a sign of weakness. Its body was torn to shreds beneath a blanket of wind which suddenly turned to razors. Leviathan’s Gate was in ruins even before this attack. The most they had been able to do was seal it up with rubble again. That jury-rigged defense availed them little as a Behemoth simply plowed through it, letting a rising swell of the horde break free into Windurst Woods.

Jaydeena’s Python unit fought without their Captain, harrying their foe from all sides as they had been trained to do. The Cougars filled the sky with arrows from the watchtowers. Ryce-Rizzle and Harutaru were in complete command. With Jaydeena and Yasuchika both injured, the Co-Captains now led an amalgamation of the Pythons, the Capricornians, the remnants of Dieggo’s Ariesians, and their own Libran Combat Casters. Once again, the Ariesians moved to the front lines, despite being but a fraction of their peak strength. The brave warriors fought against the Vanguard with everything they had, even knowing it would not be enough.

A force of the Kindred appeared in the air, howling malevolently as they ushered the Dynamis forces forward. They darted away from spells and arrows, retaliating with their own black magic. Windurstians fled from ruptures in the earth and hails of fire. Tyrian took one down with shot to the throat, and then two arrows found a home in the chest of a demon behind the first. For every one he took down, three more took its place. Beating wings and hellish cries overwhelmed them. Leviathan’s Gate was lost almost as soon as the battle began, and the Federation forces retreated further back. However, if any plan at all was to be had, this was part of it.

Their forces broke off in three directions; north, towards the Mithran Grove, south, to the Auction House, and straight west, to Bomingo Round. The horde numbers were great enough to follow after them all easily. Tyrian was running north when a Kindred swooped down from above and sank its claws into his shoulders. He didn’t even have time to scream before its weight pushed him face-first to the ground. The fiend brandished a sword, slicing down to behead the Ranger.

Its arm blew off like overripe fruit, and it fell screaming as holy magic coursed through it. Sinti dove defensively over Tyrian, pleading with him to rise. He could feel her magic coursing its way through his wounds, and he struggled to stand upright. His bow was still in his hand.

A hail of crossbow bolts sizzled past the pair, quickly followed by the gurgled death cries of a group of Kindred. The Python unit ghosted by them, Titania’s familiar face appearing from their ranks. She fired her weapon thrice more into their ranks before taking hold of Tyrian’s arm. Together, she and Sinti proceeded to drag the Ranger away from the thick of battle, even as the front lines, ever moving backwards, struggled to hold the advancing horde at bay.

From beyond Leviathan’s Gate, two more Behemoths entered Windurst. Tyrian hoped there would be at least one more before their last desperate gambit came into play.


Toraimarai Canal stretched out in a twisting maze of dead ends and false turns. Near-stagnant water flowed sluggishly through shallow pits. Bats lined the ceiling, bulbous yellow eyes peering down unblinking as Dieggo and Meowolf scrambled after Cullen. Monsters prowling the dank halls moved hurriedly from their path as the duo raced by, water splashing up at their feet. Cullen remained frustratingly ahead of them, a flesh of red around the corner, an echoing footfall always just out of reach.

Even down where they were, they could hear the thundering reverberate down from above. There could be no doubt of what was happening. The final battle had started. With the Star Sibyl out of the picture, the heart and soul of Windurst would not be with her protectors. Meowolf cursed Secure in his mind. He would have won the battle without resorting to this. He could have crushed them at any point since his army arrived. The Elvaan had instead chosen to use only the most minimal of effort in all their encounters, wearing away at them piece by piece until he could simply roll over them unabated. Removing the Star Sibyl was just putting salt in the wound.

Well he wouldn’t win this one, Meowolf told himself. He would prevent this tragedy, at the very least.

“There!” Dieggo shouted, pointing towards an opening in the labyrinth stretching out in front of them. In the distance, Cullen was once again vanishing out of sight.

Meowolf moved as fast as his legs could sustain him. He was past pain now, inured by his exertions. As they rushed through stone halls and splashed through waterways, he thought only of moving forward. He could still stop this.

A room full of staircases appeared before them. The last threshold they had seen Cullen go through ended in this room, and they could see only one exit.

“She’s trapped,” Dieggo said as they ran.

“How do you know?”

“Because,” he panted, “that path only leads to one place. The Full Moon Fountain.”

“Then she’ll be cornered,” Meowolf gasped, struggling to catch his breath, “and desperate.”

The two raced up the final staircase in their way. Time was against them.


Fishmonger Landing was lost as Semih Lafihna’s forces were pushed back yet again. No matter how hard they fought, the Behemoths kept pushing through. The lazy wooden piers upon which the Fisherman’s Guild sat were now half-sunk beneath the waves. The Orastery was burning, walls reduced to rubble. Nightmares and the Vanguard were already breaking off to charge into the lightly defended Windurst Waters. The general could do nothing to stop them. Semih Lafihna could only marshal her own forces to fall back once again.

They pushed back with everything they had even as they retreated. The Pisceans shattered the earth at every step, sinkholes and fissures swallowing the Dynamis horde as they gave chase. A clutch of shadow-skinned Yagudo charged out ahead, clashing with the Wildcats in a heated melee. For a moment it seemed they would grind straight through the Mithrans, but then they surged back fiercely, repelling the advance just long enough to make their own escape. Arrows lanced out from the Windurstian lines, slowing the Vanguard even further. Then the Quadav assumed the front lines, thick shells blunting the effectiveness of the Wildcat barrage. The horde pressed forward once more. The Behemoth strode beside them, hide riddled with arrows and magical burns, yet still pressing forward, ignorant of the superficial wounds.

Finally, they came to the enclosed passage linking the western portion of the district to its central hub. A group of Black Mages situated atop the structure provided cover in the form of a conflagration as the troop retreated to safety. Scores of the Vangaurd were immolated as the ground they had so recently captured now became a death trap. A Behemoth charged through, but could only roar as it found itself far too large to fit through the tunnel. It began hammering at it with its spiked, club-like tail, trying to break its way through. All the while, from their positions atop the passageway, Scorpion casters were free to shower their magic upon the Vanguard ranks.

Rushing her troops through, Semih Lafihna quickly regrouped them. The Behemoths would not be held back for long. They were going to make a stand here. Orders were shouted down a long line, and her ranks quickly filed into position.

There was a sickening crack, followed by a deafening boom as the tunnel was blown apart. The Scorpion casters were blasted into nothingness as the Behemoths burst their way through. Trampling the walls down, they widened the tunnel enough to squeeze their massive, bulky bodies through. At their heels came a third wave of the Vanguard, part of the seemingly never-ending wave of the shadowed Beastmen. Semih Lafihna reached her own position just in time. Their last hopes of holding out riding on success, the Federation army launched its final counter-attack.


Four Behemoths were destroying Windurst Woods before everything was in place. Tyrian could see the black sea of the Dynamis horde from his elevated post, in yet another makeshift watchtower. It was greatly reduced, but only because much of it was pouring into Windurst itself. Secure still remained outside, the repulsive dragon upon which he rode clearly visible. He had kept two Behemoths by his side, releasing the other ten into the city. Tyrian could see him with his hunter’s eyes, but knew he was too far away to do anything about it. All he could do was hope their desperate bid paid off.

There was a Black Mage with them now, one of Yasuchika’s men. Leeto, he was called, was unleashing winds with the force of hurricanes upon the Nightmares charging into them. Ravens and scorpions were blown back, and even bulky cockatrices braced themselves and roared in pain as the Capricornian defended himself. The little wizard was young, Tyrian could tell that much, but his power was unparalleled. When they had been overwhelmed by demons several times during their retreat, it was Leeto whom had provided their escape.

Titania was in a world all her own. Lost in the ceaseless repetition of her crossbow, she saw only her next target. Each bolt found its way unerringly to a Vanguard. Her attacks joined hundreds of others as the Mithran bows sang in defense of their country. When the demons came in too close, they would fight them with axes and daggers. Time and again, they were blown back by storms of magic and steel, but they kept on charging nonetheless. With so many, there was simply nothing they could do to hold them off effectively.

Tyrian brushed away Sinti’s hands. His shoulders were restored. He lifted his bow again, but it was already time for their final plan to go into motion.

Three streams of the Dynamis flood had broken off after each faction. Each path was made into an osbstacle by the narrow, winding passages one had to maneuver in order to reach the positions the Windurstians had fallen back to. At that moment, the Behemoths were all situated exactly at those passages, using their horns, claws, and sheer bulk to bring them down. There would be no better opportunity.

From everywhere, the Cardians came alive. The passage walls, the sides of buildings, the ground itself – every inch of space surrounding the tunnels leaped into action. Only a momentary pause was elicited at their appearance, for the Vanguard knew them now. They continued swarming forward, the Behemoths paying the wood-and-straw soldiers no mind at all. Not even when they all began glowing white-hot.

Tyrian had to avert his eyes from the light as every Cardian left in Windurst self-destructed. A dome of burning white flames scoured the ground clear in an instant, before rising into a pillar which shot up into the darkened sky. The Ranger had practically forgotten what light looked like, and closed his eyelids tight to avoid being blinded. The screams from the Vanguard and the Kindred were cut short as they were caught up in that cataclysm. Nothing could have survived the unthinkable release of energy as Windurst’s automatons sacrificed themselves to save their city.

The light slowly cleared, fading into the ether as the monumental explosion died down. Smoking craters marked the grounds of Windurst Woods. The charred skeletons of those caught in the blast fell from the skies, blackened bones breaking into ash upon touching the ground. For a brief moment, the entire area was silent. Four Behemoths lay stricken, fat sizzling as flames tore at their hides. One of them stared out into nothing, half its beastial face melted into a pool of flesh and grease. The Bomingo Round was reduced to a charred ruin. The Manustery, perhaps appropriately, had been practically obliterated. The birthplace of the Cardians had given itself for Windurst just as its creations had. Their stratagem had worked. The Behemoths were dead.

Then, slowly, one of the purple-skinned beasts lifted its head.

Impossibly, ignoring its own flaming hide, the monster began to right itself. It let out a tumultuous roar, lighting sparking from the tips of its horns. The beast struggled for a moment, then landed one giant paw upon the ground and heaved itself upright. Some distance off to the south, another Behemoth rose. Just as the first, its wounded were not enough to put it down. They were injured, but that injury now drove them mad with pain and fury.

Only two of the Behemoths had died. They had failed.

As a fresh wave of Vanguard poured in through Leviathan’s Gate, two new Behemoths in tow, the scope of their failure was truly driven home.

The forces of Windurst tarried only a moment before sounding a general retreat. There was nothing more they could do.


Meowolf was unprepared for the sight of Full Moon Fountain. After the ugliness of Toraimarai Canal, the splendor of an underground pond, shining like a mirror, was a stark contrast. In another time, another place, he might have come here to relax, to reflect. He had no such luxury now. Before that placid body of water, Cullen stood waiting. She held the leader of Windurst like a shield, a knife pressed to her throat.

Dieggo and Meowolf both stopped before her. The Tarutaru was merely out of breath, but Meowolf felt like he might topple over. All the pain he’d been ignoring came rushing back in an instant. His knees nearly buckled, but he somehow stayed on his feet. He had to see this moment through. He could still win this.

“Stay back, please,” Cullen’s voice was pleading. “You can live if you stay back.”

“Cullen,” Meowolf gasped, and his vision momentarily blurred.

Dieggo would not wait for him to recover. “You have nowhere to go, Cullen,” he brandished his scythe as he spoke. “Release the Star Sibyl.”

“No,” she said, and Meowolf was shocked by the sadness in her voice. He had never heard such regret before. Yet still, the Star Sibyl struggled in her grasp. Her voice muted by a Silence spell, she was as helpless as a child in Cullen’s hands.

“You’re prepared to die?” Dieggo asked, his tone deathly serious.

“No!” Cullen shouted, clutching the tiny leader of the Federation closer. “Secure protects me! I will not die here! Secure is great man! You must understand! Please!”

Squinting, Meowolf brought his eyes back into focus. He saw something now he had missed in the Star Sibyl’s chambers.

Cullen’s face was bruised along both eyes. Discolored black marks swelled her skin and cheeks. Still, she held her head high, unafraid as she stared down the Ariesian Captain. He either did not notice or care about her physical wounds as he returned the gaze. Both of them were increasingly certain they were about to have to kill the other.

“Why, Cullen,” Meowolf managed to get out. His lungs were on fire.

“Because Vana’diel is corrupt!” she shouted, tears in her eyes. She shook her knife, and the Star Sibyl watched it with open terror. “Secure and other men seek to wash away the stain we have made! They make things right! You – you must go! I do not want to kill you. I have orders, but if I just bring this woman’s head, they will – “

“You’ll die first!” Dieggo roared, an aura of dark energy surging up around him. Cullen gasped, taking a step backwards. She was practically on the edge of the Full Moon Fountain now.

“No . . . “ she whispered. “I will live. I will see new world. Secure has promised it. Secure is great man!”

“He’s a monster!” Dieggo took a step towards her, his eyes turning black with the power coursing through him. “And if you’re with him, you’re just as guilty of his crimes! I’ll take my revenge for what you’ve done to Windurst here and now!”

“I will kill her!” Cullen screamed, holding her knife out so Dieggo could see it’s tip touching her throat.

“Then I will kill you!”

“Never!”

“Why, Cullen,” Meowolf tried again, finally gathering up enough energy to speak, “why don’t you let me protect you from him?”

The Red Mage went still, as if she’d been pole-axed between the eyes. Her entire body stiffened at Meowolf’s words.

“ . . .protect . . . me?”

The Galka managed to take a step forward, straining to lift his head up. “It’s my job, Cullen,” he told her, forcing himself to make his mouth work. “I’m a Paladin. I defend the people who need it.”

“Secure . . . “ her eyes lit up with uncertainty. “He . . . he wants to protect . . . “

“No, Cullen, he’s using you!” Meowolf’s words had more strength than he thought he had left. “We’ve spent so much time together. I can’t believe the person I got to know was a lie!” She bit her lower lip, refusing to meet his gaze. “Put the knife down, Cullen. I can protect you from Secure. He’s the one who did that to your face, isn’t he?”

She said nothing, but was obviously trying to steel herself against Meowolf’s words. Dieggo took another step forward, and she stared menacingly at the Tarutaru, still clutching the knife to the Star Sibyl’s throat. The Ariesian was unconvinced this was accomplishing anything. He was ready and willing to strike Cullen down.

“Please, listen to me,” Meowolf pleaded. “Secure is no great man, Cullen. He’s a monster who has brought death and ruin to innocent people. Don’t let him get you too. I’ll protect you, Cullen.” Slowly, the Galka stretched out his hand. The distance between the two seemed to go on forever. “Please, trust me.”

“I – “ her face was filled with doubt. All to clearly she remembered Secure destroying the Chocobo Stables in Windurst Woods, bringing the building crashing down upon her. It was Meowolf who saved her. She remembered being sent fleeing for her life as part of a ruse to get her inside the city. Again, the Galka had been the one to come to her rescue. Meowolf knew it as well as she did. He doubted that an inhuman villain like Secure ever showed her a sliver of the same regard.

She lowered her knife, holding it just above the Star Sibyl’s chest. Anguish was written across her face. “I’m sorry, Meowolf,” she said in her thick Eastern accent. “But . . . “

Her hand hovered in place, the knife just in between being lowered completely, or violently thrust into the neck of Windurst’s leader. Meowolf cried out for her to stop, just as Dieggo prepared to unleash a bolt of dark magic directly at the Red Mage.

The moment hung in time. Cullen made her choice.

But before she could act on it, whatever path she had chosen, Full Moon Fountain erupted.

Like a straw doll, Cullen was hurled forward as a torrent of dark purple light shot up from the clear surface of the lake. Meowolf was stunned by the outpouring of energy, and his words as he called out to the Red Mage were lost in the violent noise of the eruption. Dieggo was nearly tossed from his feet, digging in to the ground with his scythe to keep balanced. Cullen's knife was thrown through the air with such force that it embedded itself in the surrounding rock straight to the hilt. The Star Sibyl screamed as she hurtled untethered to the ground, but Meowolf reached out a giant palm and caught the Federation leader in his grasp, turning his bulk to shield her from the sudden light.

"What's happening?" he called out, even as the light grew brighter.

The Star Sibyl's eyes were like dinner plates. "It's back," she cried, "the Great Beast is back!"

From the light came a howl so blood-curdling that Meowolf could feel goosebumps creeping along every inch of his skin.

A form was taking shape within the light. A bristling white mane of fur stretched back over another layer of glossy black. A snout lined with fangs gave way to a set of eyes which glowed like the full moon, bright and yellow. Padded feet stretched out, letting great hooked claws scratch at the air. The dark-furred form pulsated with a haunting purple light, reaching back from the snarling face to a luxurious, bristling white tail. Its body was all skin and sinew, corded muscle which could only belong to a hunter, a predator. It stood unsupported above the surface of Full Moon Fountain, floating in the air as the water roiled around it. Meowolf could cleary see now a wolf, at least five times his own size, standing in that geyser of other-wordly light.

"Fenrir," the Star Sibyl marveled, stepping down from Meowolf's grasp. "You've come back to us."

Then, to Meowolf's amazement, the wolf spoke. "There is no time to spare, Star Sibyl," his voice was fiercer than anything the Galka had ever heard. Waves of intimidation emanated from the avatar's form. Nothing he had ever felt could have prepared him for being in the presence of a terrestrial avatar in all its glory. "Call me forth."

The Star Sibyl stared at the avatar, lips moving but no words coming out. "Great Beast," she called to it, "I cannot. I am no Summoner."

Fenrir howled, and the shockwave tore the ground apart surrounding the water's edge. "I must be channeled through a Summoner, or my raw power will destroy Windurst itself. Have you no one to heed my call?"

For a long moment, only the violent hum of Fenrir's gargantuan aura was the sole sound in Full Moon Fountain. The Star Sibyl put her hands out helplessly as Meowolf still tried to process the abrupt change in their situation. Fenrir gazed out at them, his eyes piercing their souls. Then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"I'll do it," Dieggo said resolutely, stepping forward past the other two, facing Fenrir head-on.

"Captain," the Star Sibyl's voice was a mixture of shock and concern.

"Dieggo," Meowolf argued, "your power is in the dark arts. Can you really use that to summon something like this?"

Fenrir, however, was peering intently at the diminuitive Dark Knight. "Yes," he growled, rocks shaking from the walls at his voice. "I see who you are. You have the power to temper my might."

The Ariesian nodded, bringing out his scythe. To Meowolf's amazement, at his touch the blade fell to the ground, revealing a gleaming black jewel hidden underneath it. The weapon was a staff, concealed beneath the guise of a bladed weapon. Dieggo lifted it over his head, and at his command a circle of light matching the color of Fenrir's aura appeared at his feet. Dark light blazed up around him as the power of the summoning overtook him.

"How are you doing this?" Meowolf cried out over the tumultuous roar.

"Because," the Star Sibyl responded, "Dieggo is a name the Captain took from his mother's side of the family."

Meowolf stared, not comprehending.

"My real name comes from that of my father's brother," Dieggo expanded, his voice almost lost in the rush of power surrounding him. "and it is with my true name, the surname of my uncle, that I call you forth! I - Semina-Baruha! Fenrir . . . come out!"

Everything else was lost in the inferno of power which tore the ground up at the Summoner's feet. A wave of crushing darkness swept through the Full Moon Fountain, and by the time it subsided, Karuha-Baruha's nephew and the avatar at his command were both gone.


Semih Lafihna rushed across the bridge to the eastern section of Port Windurst. Then, at her command, the remaining Scorpions brought the water itself up from its moors. The Gugru Blue surged upwards, tearing the bridge apart, along with the Vanguard trying to cross. The Windurstians were now braced at the air travel agency. One more push back and they would be fighting amongst the homes and residences themselves.

A Behemoth splashed down into the water, then roared as it realized it was unprepared for the depth. The warlocks at the Mithran general's command brought the tides to bear once more. Furiously, the monster tried to break free, but it was dragged down into the muck and mire below. It was visible beneath the clear water, struggling helplessly to breach the surface. A cry of victory went out as the beast's eyes rolled back into its head, and it went still beneath the waves.

The Vanguard howled, firing their own arrows across the gap. Nightmares which could fly soared over the water, but were cut down by arrows which streaked from Wildcat bows. Semih Lafihna rallied her remaining forces together. The Pisceans, the Wlidcats, the Scorpions, and her own Patriach Protectors tightened their ranks. The Mithran general drew back her own bowstring, focusing in on the Vanguard ranks. The shadow-skinned Quadav, Yagudo, Orcs, and Goblins were tearing trees from their roots, rushing them forward to create their own bridge. Federation arrows sank deeply into their numbers. Ignoring their casualties, they kept bringing the ruined trees forward. Fire swept through them, yet they refused to stop advancing. Even as their death toll mounted, the horde fought to land their makeshift structure in the water and cross so that the killing could continue.

Though they could never have held them there indefinitely, what time they did have was cut short as another Behemoth cut its way to the front lines. It reared up on its hind legs, and then came crashing down. Lightning burst forth from its horns as a shockwave blew across the water, sending a torrential downpour atop the Windurstians. The front lines of their force were washed backwards, hurtling into demoralized confusion. Semih Lafihna herself was swept away, struggling against the unexpected wave which submerged an entire chunk of Port Windurst. Patriarch Protectors swarmed protectively around their general, but those few moments were all the Vanguard needed to toss down their uprooted trees. Their arboreal bridge was all they needed to swarm across to the other side.

Once again, the Wildcats met the advance face-to-face. The Pisceans bombarded their Mithran protectors with healing spells, and they managed to hold the line as they fought with everything left in them. Blood was spilled by the gallon, mixing with the receding water to turn the surrounding ocean red. Even as the Vanguard pressed with all their might, the Windurstians held out through sheer determination. With steel and magic they pressed back, giving up not an inch on the muddied banks of Port Windurst. It was only when the Behemoth finally crashed down upon the shore that their line faltered, but even then they stubbornly held. Then two more Behemoths appeared at the rear of the Vanguard advance, accompanied by a fresh column of Nightmares. Finally, the Windurstian front collapsed. Semih Lafihna had no choice but to fall back yet again. Port Windurst was lost.


Tyrian sliced open a cockatrice's throat with his dagger, horrified that one had gotten so close to Sinti. A clutch of the monsters were tearing through Windurst Woods, and the Ranger had to dive past one to reach the fallen Mithra. Cradling her in his arms, he spun and took off at a dead run. She had borne the brunt of a wall of solid air conjured by the Vanguard sorcerers. She was dazed, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Tyrian cursed himself for putting her out in the open like that. Only he knew of no safer place where she could be.

Leeto covered their path as they escaped, calling up the ground itself to bar the advancing horde. Spikes of earth shot through those unfortunate enough to catch the brunt of his spell, and others struggled to break past the stalagmites the Tarutaru created to bar their path. The other Windurstians threw everything they had at the crushing might of the Dynamis horde, but still they came forward. Four Behemoths trampled freely through Windurst Woods, bringing down buildings, crushing soldiers, and obliterating the Federation defenses. There was no dividing them into units any longer. In their retreat there were no longer Librans or Capricornians, no Pythons or Cougars. They were simply a fleeing mass of soldiers, doing all they could to hold off their pursuers for even an instant longer.

Then, in a moment borne of either desperation or determination, Ryce-Rizzle led a daring counter-attack. As one, the Windurstian front surged forward into the surprised Vanguard. Bolts of thunder tore the sky apart as they sought out Kindred bodies, and jets of flame brought Vanguard and Nightmare alike to the ground. A blanket of arrows and crossbow bolts came down over their front lines, and then another eradicated it altogether. The horde wavered, taken aback by the swiftness and ferocity of the assault. They charged forward again with crushing numbers, the Kindred augmenting their destructive might with a flurry of spells. The Windurstians refused to yield, even with death closing in around them. They pressed back with magic, they emptied their quivers of arrows, they did anything and everything to keep the Vanguard from claiming another inch of Windurst as their own.

And then the Behemoths came, inexorable, inevitable, and the Windurstian line broke. Captain Ryce was blown backwards, body smacking against a rock wall and limply sliding down. Two of his soldiers took up his body, rushing him away from the front lines. Without his presence, the army lost its inspiration. They began melting away as the Vanguard flooded Windurst Woods. Behemoths rampaged through, ignoring the little resistance thrown their way. Tyrian was running towards the last avenue still open to them. He became confused when he saw so many other Windurstians already ahead of him.

Then it struck him. They were running into the forces which had been in Port Windurst.

Both sides of the Windurst army pressed together in the confines between Windurst Woods and the Port. Vanguard and Nightmares ran screaming towards them on both sides. Kindred were filling the skies. And then there were the Behemoths, seven of them in all now. Every plan had fallen apart. All of Windurst's remaining forces were trapped in a pincer from which there was no escape. A great howl rose from the ranks of the Vanguard as they sensed their final victory at hand. Tyrian stood trapped between the two armies retreating into one another. He clutched Sinti's unconscious form close to him. There was nothing else he could do.

The howl from the horde was drowned out entirely by one single, all-encompassing noise. A pulse of force that sent a tremor through all of Windurst swept over the field of battle. Even the Behemoths stopped, heads turned in confusion as the piercing howl tearing through the night overtook them. Tyrian swept his gaze around, searching for the source of this new power. He could feel its terrible might in his bones, and shuddered at its presence. What fresh hell had Secure summoned forth to finish them off? A wail was rising from the Windurstian ranks as the howl came again, interjecting itself upon the struggle with inconceivable results. The advance had stopped in its tracks. All eyes were turning northwards, towards Windurst Walls.

And then Tyrian saw it. A blazing beacon of power burning atop Heaven's Tower. Black-and-purple flames shot into the sky in an endless blaze, casting their frighful light down across the entire city. There was a third howl, shattering the night with its power. Like a shooting star, that raging torrent of power swept forth, launching from the Great Star Tree and streaking downwards towards the battlefield. It landed, and a force of unparalleled might swept out in all directions. Tyrian was frozen in place. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight which greeted him.

Hovering in the air, engulfed in those dark purple flames, was the Ariesian Captain, Dieggo. He held in both hands a staff burning with spectral energy, and he gazed out across the battlefield with eyes which burned pure white. His helmet was gone, and reddish-blonde hair was wildly surging upwards, caught in a wind of his own creation. That sight was shocking enough, but it was what stood behind him that captured the most attention. An enormous wolf, towering to nearly double the size of a Behemoth, stood behind the Tarutaru. Man-sized fangs were bared as it stretched out claws which tore trenches in the ground. Eye stared out balefully, twin bonfires of incandescent light. Nobody moved. Everything still living in Windurst was focused on the wolf.

"Fenrir," Dieggo shouted out, breaking the silence, "Eclipse Bite!"

And just like that, the carnage began. The wolf surged forward with such speed as to be a purple-and-black blur. A Behemoth roared in shock and pain as suddenly Fenrir's fangs were sunk down in its throat. With one terrible jerking motion, the wolf tore its prey wide open, spilling out a fountain of gore out onto the streets. The beast fell dead in an instant, limply sinking beneath Fenrir's teeth. The shock barely had time to register for the Dynamis army before Dieggo was turning the wolf around, ordering another explosion of power from it. It howled, and its voice radiated force enough to tear through the Vanguard ranks, blowing those close enough into nothingness. A second Behemoth caught the brunt of the blast, and with a kind of sick fascination Tyrian watched as the skin was stripped from its bones. Fully half of the beast was skeletonized in an instant, collapsing in a heap, never to rise again.

Two Behemoths had perished in a span of moments. Fenrir and Dieggo turned their attention towards the front at Windurst Woods, where four more awaited them. The dark wolf bunched its hind legs, and then leaped fully over the entire Windurstian army, crashing down into the heart of the Vanguard. The Kindred it passed in the air were immolated by his mere passing. Dieggo streaked through the air, weaving his staff in a complex motion while shouting out fresh orders to the avatar. All the Dynamis forces at its feet were blasted apart as it unleashed its power once again.

This time though, the horde fought back. The Kindred quickly regrouped, and send down a concentrated barrage of lightning from above. Vanguard and Nightmares swarmed towards Fenrir, swinging at it with their massive weapons. Three Behemoths charged in, clawing at the wolf and tearing it with tooth and horn. Fenrir shrugged off their attacks, but not without difficulty. Through sheer power, it tossed a Behemoth aside, slamming it down onto the Vanguard ranks. As electricity poured over it, he lifted his muzzle skyward and let loose a howl which dessicated the Kindred in the sky. The Behemoths came forward again, combining their efforts to bring the great wolf to the ground. Vanguard were on it like ants attacking some enormous carcass. Dark force radiated from Fenrir's body, blasting itself free from their clutches. It pounced upon the Behemoth it had thrown down earlier, and just as it had done before, the wolf tore out the monster's throat, snapping the meat and blood between its jaws. It then yelped a fourth Behemoth charged into it, horns slamming into the avatar. Another of the beasts used its tail like a club, smashing it against Fenrir's muzzle. However, when it tried the same move again, it found itself caught in the dark wolf's jaws. With a titanic show of power, the Behemoth found its tail torn straight from its body. It fell, bleeding out, as Fenrir turned to face the two which remained.

In that moment, the Windurstians awe finally gave way. A wave of revitalized fervor swept over them as one by one, the Behemoths fell at the fangs of their Great Beast. Without any orders given, they regrouped as one. Tyrian found himself swept up as the entire remaining Federation army suddenly struck out into Port Windurst. The already beleagured horde was completely unprepared for a fresh assault, and crumbled at their advance. Within minutes, they had fought their way back past the air travel agency. There remained, however, one Behemoth on that side of the battlefield, and it was charging straight for them.

The Windurstians did not back down. With one combined effort, every mage in their ranks put forth all they had left. The Behemoth desperately tried to halt as it felt the swell of power suddenly concentrating on it, but there was no stopping what came next. An arcane explosion made Port Windurst quake as the Behemoth was quite literally blown into pieces. Bits of horn and bone fell to the ground alongside sizzling skin and visceral remains. Only a charred crater remained where the beast had been. Their magic users fell to the ground, drained utterly, but the rest of the army charged onwards. With bows and arrows, daggers and swords, some with their bare hands, they attacked the horde. Their decimated ranks, now taken aback by the horrifying end of their Behemoth, were shredded by the Windurstian's ferocity. Slowly but surely, they were being pushed back completely.

In Windurst Woods, the final Behemoth fell before Fenrir, eviscerated by his claws. His aura had dimmed perceptibly, but it still blazed forth ferociously as it stood triumphant over the fallen corpse of its foe. All of the horde forces which had tried to interject in the battle were now a legion of ghosts. The Great Beast was panting, power surging off it in waves. Dieggo was by his side, now on the ground. The circle of purple light around him was fading, but still more than enough to frighten away any Vanguard who got too close. He stared out at their retreating ranks. He had enough left in him to obliterate them. Taking up his staff, he prepared for a renewed assault.

Then came a screech that sounded akin to a million nails scratching across slate. Dieggo and Fenrir both cried out in unison as the sound passed over them. The final two Behemoths were entering the city through Leviathan's Gate. They were hardly a concern any longer. What they were flanking, however, was another matter entirely.

The enormous Nightmare Dragon, the last one in the Dynamis ranks, had entered the city. Its ruined body caused the ground to wither and crack as it passed by. Dead eyes stared blankly forward as its jaws gaped open. Venom streaked down from its mouth as it pulled its great mass forward on fearsome hooked claws. Its scope was incredible, at least as big as Fenrir was. Dieggo had seen it from afar many times, circling the outside of the horde ranks. If the creature had a name, it was unknown to the Windurstians. They referred to it only by what it assuredly brought with it. The Apocalyptic Beast.

He caught sight of Secure, boldly astride the horrendous monster, blazing eyes clearly calling a challenge.

Dieggo charged forward. He had a beast of his own.

Secure lashed out his sword, and the two Behemoths darted out in front of him. Fenrir wasted no excess energy with them. He snapped his jaws around the closest ones throat, and with unfathomable strength, tore the creature from its feet and hurled it into the second one. Unleashing another thunderous howl, a shockwave of his dark power left the two monsters in pieces. The great wolf leaped over their smoking corpses, launching directly into battle with the Apocalyptic Beast itself.

The two epic monsters bit and tore at each other, each spurned by the one controlling it. Fenrir slashed at the beast with its claws, rending its flesh only to find naught but venomous bile in its veins. The Beast clamped its own teeth around the wolf's neck, but was blasted away by its burning aura. A scar appeared on Fenrir's body when it was pierced by the Beast's horns, but Fenrir then howled at it, driving it back with dark force. He charged forward, striking the Nightmare Dragon under the chin with his own skull, knocking its head back and then driving his fangs into its throat. The monster tore free, deep fang marks rending its rotting skin. It paid the wound no mind as Secure pushed it forward, rearing upwards and then crashing down to slam itself bodily into Fenrir. The wolf cried out, but immediately struggled free, slashing and tearing at the Beast. Once again, it pulled back, visibly wounded, but paying no heed to the injuries.

From above it, Dieggo could hear Secure's mocking laughter. The man who could not be hurt was riding a monster which could not be stopped. Fenrir's blazing aura was quickly fading. Dieggo felt his grasp on the avatar's being slipping away. Secure planned to do exactly what he had done to Windurst. Simply wear Dieggo down until he was weak enough to trample over.

His plan failed to take one thing into account. One does not simply walk over Fenrir.

The aura surrounding the Summoner suddenly blazed brighter than it had at any point before. Light streamed forth from his eyes, and Fenrir reacted accordingly. Both Secure and the Apocalytpic Beast cried out as the wolf let loose a cry greater than anything they had yet heard. A tidal wave of dark force burst forth, and neither man nor monster could impede it. Fenrir's howl brought with it the full fury of a terrestrial avatar of Vana'diel. The earth ruptured, blasting apart in the wake of the Great Beast's power. Secure's fiendish dragon roared back with its own might, but it was overwhelmed utterly. The torrent swept across it, and the creature was lost in a haze of purple light. Fenrir's form began to break apart, pouring everything it had into its final attack. Even as he howled, the emanations of power took the avatar away.

The last fading echoes of Fenrir's howl faded into the night. The Apocalyptic Beast was gone. Dieggo lay on the ground, completely drained. Fenrir was nowhere to be found, but his power had been enough. The Beast had disintegrated, every inch of rotting bone and festering skin gone for good and all.

And in his place stood Secure.

Emerging from the smoking ruin which had once been his mount, the Paladin strode forward at a measured pace, drawing his sword as he did so. Dieggo struggled vainly to rise, but found himself unable. Instead, he felt his ribs break as Secure's platinum-laced sabaton struck him in the chest. The Tarutaru rolled away, gasping in pain. His vision blurred, and each breath felt like a hot knife jabbing into his lungs. Using Fenrir's power had left him unable to defend himself. And again, maddeningly, Secure had survived that which would kill anything else. He lowered his sword towards the Ariesian Captain, and Dieggo gazed upwards with one eye, lacking the strength to avoid the killing stroke.

Secure grunted suddenly, and took a step backwards. Something clattered to the ground in front of Dieggo. It was a crossbow bolt, he saw, bent in half, settling in the dust.

Secure lifted his head. There was a rounded indentation in his head where the bolt had struck him. As soon as he looked up, an arrow caught him directly in the throat. It scraped past and landed on the ground, but a slim line appeared where it had passed by. Side by side, Titania and Tyrian kept their weapons raised, daring the Paladin to take another step. Beside them was Leeto, hands crackling with the little magic still left in him. Sinti, back on her feet, had a radiant aura around her as she called holy force into her white-jeweled staff, ready to unleash it. Semih Lafihna leveled her own bow at Secure's face. By her side, the Ministers of Windurst had appeared, facing down the leader of the enemy army with arcane might ready to release. Ryce-Rizzle, his head wrapped in a bandage, brandished both his axes as Harutaru marshaled the remaining Libran forces around them. Yasuchika had joined his Capricornians again, just as Jaydeena had crawled out of her bed to defend Windurst in its time of need. Laughing as she brought flames to life in her hands, Shantotto smiled darkly at the Paladin. The entire Windurstian army stood behind a line in the sand, with Secure by himself on the other side.

The crowd of Federation soldiers shifted, and a familiar face walked by Tyrian. He was stripped to the waist, long black hair loose at his shoulders, but a brand new great katana in his hands.

Klades clutched his weapon in an offensive stance, burning gaze meeting Secure's.

"Time to die," the Onion Samurai informed him.

Secure faced down Windurst's assembled might, and laughed.

"Come and kill what cannot be killed," he challenged, brandishing his sword. "you are too late for victory." His lips curled into a mirthless smile. "Your Star Sibyl is dead."

"No, she isn't."

Gasps rang out from the crowd as Secure's head twisted about, anger growing in his eyes. Standing quite calmly, and very much alive, some distance away, was the Star Sibyl herself. Windurst's leader brushed her hands over her necklace and the powerful artifact, the Diza Star, which it contained. Her tiny, ageless face was radiant with renewed power. It was not her appearance which truly stopped Secure in his tracks. The roaring Galka charging right for him was the cause for that.

Meowolf's fist smashed into Secure's face with bone-crushing force. The Paladin fell like a great oak, wavering for a moment before toppling over, clutching his nose. He stared up in soundless fury, hand clapped over his face as blood streamed over his gauntlet. The towering Galka loomed over him, fists clenched, anger palpable.

"You've failed, Secure." His voice was barely above a whisper. The vitriol in his tone revealed the depths of contempt he had for the Paladin at his feet. "You laid waste to a nation. You betrayed your own people! You brought ruin and despair in the name of whatever twisted ambition you lay claim to, but it's over!" Growling, he took hold of the Elvaan, snatching him up to meet his blazing eyes. "Your soul is black with debt. Time to pay the piper."

"No," he responded, in that accent identical to Cullen's, "not yet."

Meowolf gave a shocked cry as a blinding light flashed from Secure's palm. He heard the others begin to rush forward, and swung blindly at where he knew Secure must be. He connected with only air.

His vision cleared, and he saw only Secure's laughing form as it faded away, warping to some unknown location far from the battlefield.

The Galka bellowed in fury, smashing his fists on the ground. After everything, Secure had gotten away.

Just like Cullen. She had disappeared after Fenrir's arrival. The woman he tried to save and the man he wanted to kill had both eluded him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

He felt a hand clap down on his shoulder, and looked up to see Tyrian by his side. The Ranger looked like hell. He was sure he wasn't much better.

"He got away . . . " Meowolf managed.

The Hume only shook his head. "We'll go after him, Meowolf," he assured. "We'll get him."

Looking around, the Galka saw the faces of his friends and allies as they began to grasp their situation. The Vanguard were gone. The Behemoths were dead. The skies were clear of Nightmare and Kindred alike. There was no feeling of celebration, not with such a staggering number of their own amongst the dead. Only a sweeping feeling of relief. The Battle of Windurst was finally over. They traveled down that long night and came out the other side.

The triumphant defenders of Windurst gathered together to share both laughter and tears. Off in the distance, like a far-off horn of victory, the last dying echoes of Fenrir's howl faded into the night.