Chapter XLII: The Dream Team

“I may have,” Vile paused to consider his words, “overreacted.”

The small Hume girl in front of him, her hair uneven and singed, gazed with watery eyes at the wizard. The Tarutaru was hardly any taller than the girl, but it still seemed she was somehow able to crane her neck upwards so that the full effect of enormous eyes and quivering lip greeted Vile. He looked as if he might retch in response, his lip curling back as he made an audible sound of disgust.

“Go on,” Rykoshet ordered, fists on his hips behind the mage. Vile shot him a backwards glance filled with malice, then looked back at the girl, whose concerned-looking mother hovered nearby.

“I was not in a mood to celebrate,” the Tarutaru let out grudgingly, “and when I was asked to . . . play . . . I found it upsetting. I shouldn’t have set your hair on fire.”

“It’s okay, little man!” the girl declared, throwing her arms open and wrapping them around Vile forgivingly. “The other big doll person told me you didn’t mean it when she made me all better!”

Vile stood frozen in the embrace, lightning crackling through his eyes as his teeth ground together so hard that Rykoshet feared he might break a tooth. At his feet, the stone floors of the castle began to splinter and crack, and the girl’s mother gasped as the air around the wizard started to shimmer with heat.

“That’s good!” the Elvaan cried out, pulling the tiny Hume girl away and depositing her back with her mother. “Thank you for accepting his apology. Now go back with your mother.”

The woman seemed only too happy to retreat, her young one held firmly in tow. “Bye-bye, little man!” the girl called out after Vile, waving her tiny arm.

Rykoshet dreaded turning around, but he knew Vile was going to stand there until he did.

“Well,” he said, as smoothly as he could manage, “that wasn’t so – “

“You threw a party,” the Tarutaru said acidly. “Our friends are dead along with who knows how many other thousands of people, we’re living with monsters to survive, we could be killed at any second if the demons find out we’re holed up here, and you threw a party.” His words somehow managed to carry more fire than any he could magically burn with. “And with all of that going on, that little twit asked me if I wanted to play.”

Rykoshet stood his ground, pretending not to feel the waves of force emanating from the wizard’s aura. “She’s a child who probably saw horrible things in Jeuno, and survived living in Garlaige. She was told for the first time in months that she could play and have fun. If you want to be upset at someone, be upset with me. Don’t take it out on children.”

Vile considered his words, squinting at him under the brim of his pointed sorcerer’s cap. “You’re right,” he replied after thinking about it, “she didn’t do anything wrong. It was my mistake. Next time someone bothers me with something idiotic, I’ll come set you on fire.”

“That’s not what I – “

“I’m glad we worked this out. Now what was so important that you wanted me for?”

“A man made of water that nobody else remembers seeing wants me to take four people to Pso’Xja and fight an army of demons.”

Vile blinked, then nodded, pursing his lips in thought as he held a finger against his chin.

“You could have told him anything else,” Baeladar said as Rykoshet walked past, clenching a still-burning strand of hair in between two of his fingers. “Anything but that rubbish you told me, and yet you consciously chose to repeat yourself. Good show, Rykoshet.”

“He said he’ll show up where Lethe wanted me to meet him and see what happens,” Rykoshet sourly shot back, taking a second to cough out a smoke ring. “That’s as good as a “you can count on me” as far as I’m concerned.”

“Lethe,” Baeladar scoffed, rolling his eyes. Matching his stride to that of his leader, the Paladin walked beside him as they approached their next destination. “Rykoshet, listen. You’ve let these dreams get the better of you. With everything that’s happened, no one blames you, but are you really meaning to stand in the hall and wait for a magical man no one has seen but you?”

“I don’t have time to argue this with you again Bael,” Rykoshet dismissed as the two of them began descending the great stone steps leading into the lower levels of Oztroja. “Even if you don’t believe me, can’t you at least humor me?”

Stepping out in front of him, Baeladar formed a barrier between the warrior and the bottom of the stairwell. The smooth, unlined face of the Paladin was grimly serious as he stared with dark eyes back at Rykoshet, and when he spoke it was not with his usual dry wit, but rather evident and grave concern.

“Rykoshet, the people here count on you. The Yagudo, the Jeunoans, everyone. Especially us. We will follow you, Rykoshet, but you have to understand our concern for you. What you’re talking about is insane. A man appearing on a river atop the table, that nobody else remembers seeing? This business with the “Four Winds?” Pso’Xja? Rykoshet,” he clapped his friend on the shoulder, softening his gaze, “can you blame us for not believing you?”

The blonde Elvaan took a deep breath, and slowly moved Baeladar’s gauntleted hand off the shoulder of his black armor. He didn’t have time for this.

“Bael, believe me, I appreciate your concern, but you have to trust me, okay?” He leveled a gaze at the Paladin. “I’ve told you what’s at stake.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that a man you dreamed up told you that some people survived the attack. Don’t you realize that just makes it sound all the more implausible?”

Baeladar turned to the side as Rykoshet brushed past him, wrenching free the door leading to where he was going.

“This was never a debate, Bael. Do the things I need you to get done.”

Baeladar’s angered sigh was lost to the sound of Rykoshet slamming shut the door to the dungeon.

It had been some time since he had come in here. Some few dim torches provided the scant bit of light to be had, and the sound of rats scampering across the rough-hewn stone floors was the only sound to break the gravely still arrangement of cells. The cells themselves were rooms barely large enough to lay down inside of, with nothing but bare floors and shackles bolted to the walls within the confines of the thick iron bars surmounting each one. The torchlight provided enough light to see clearly the hallways of the cramped space, but the interior of the cells themselves were frighteningly dark. When they had come into ownership of Castle Oztroja, there had been but one prisoner locked in the dungeon, and Rykoshet did his best to ignore the feeling of eyes upon him as he strode past that prisoner’s cell. There was another down here now, and that was the one the Elvaan wanted to see.

At the end of the corridor there was one cell set not behind bars, but a thick wooden door with a small window in it to see out of. It was twice as large as the other cells, which still meant it was far too miniscule to live in, but it afforded the imprisoned space for a bed of sorts, at least in the Yagudo style of bedding. Rykoshet removed the key he had taken from the gaoler and turned it in the lock, hearing the tumblers clunk open noisily. Taking a swallow, he opened the door, and light shone in on Tzee Xicu the Manifest.

Her condition was shocking. The demigod which had nearly snuffed out eighteen opponents single-handedly had wasted away, having seldom eaten and taken little to drink in the time since her defeat. She still wore the enormous mask, though it was beginning to look far too large for her reduced frame, and she weakly rose her head at the sight of Rykoshet entering her cell. Unlike the other prisoner, Tzee Xicu was not wearing the power-sapping manacles the Yagudo normally kept their captured in, and Rykoshet knew that one with power such as hers could have easily escaped this cell at any time. Even without the Astral Signa, Tzee Xicu the Manifest was the most powerful Yagudo in existence, yet here she was, slowly starving to death of her own accord. The situation had Rykoshet torn. He had no specific desire to see the Yagudo suffer, but he could not release her, and doubted she would be released if he offered. He had struck the blow which defeated her, and by all previous Yagudo rites, she should have died then and there. When she had regained consciousness to find her life spared, she had apparently taken to the task of finishing the job herself. Painful as it was to watch, trying to reverse a thousand years of Yagudo tradition was simply not one of the items on his agenda.

Perhaps though, there was still one more way to save her life.

“Child of Altana,” Tzee Xicu acknowledged Rykoshet with a nod, her quiet voice as musical as ever, “have you finally come to see me to my ancestors?”

“That will have to wait,” he replied dismissively, “there’s something I need to ask you.”

Tzee Xicu sighed, letting her head droop back down. With a single raised claw, she made a brief gesture. Her feathers still shimmered, rippling with such an effect as to distort the air around her, so much that she appeared blurred at the edges. Even deprived of the Signa and starved in prison, her power was still an awesome sight to behold. “Ask then, Elvaan,” she said sadly. “I will answer.”

“I need to know what Hiraiko is hearing when she holds the Astral Signa.”

Tzee Xicu’s head rose again, and she turned to peer intently at Rykoshet. She did not seem so starved and weakened anymore, Rykoshet became acutely aware, as the force of her presence suddenly bore down upon him.

“Why?”

“I have been called to Pso”Xja,” he answered, “and I was instructed to bring Hiraiko with me. I know Pso’Xja is supposed to be a place of ancient magic, and I know Hiraiko’s been holding on to something that probably taps into it. I need to know what the connection is. Now,” he repeated, “what does she hear?”

“She hears the voices of the Avatars. The true Avatars, the Prime Avatars, not the shadows summoned into our world when those with the ability to tap into their power call them forth.”

“I know that already,” Rykoshet said, frustrated. “But what are they trying to tell her?”

Tzee Xicu said nothing, turning her head away. “You do not know which questions to ask, thus you shall never find your answer.”

“Tzee Xicu!” Rykoshet implored. “You charged me with safeguarding the Yagudo. I didn’t know why then, but I do now. The entire story about how you turned down servitude under the demons and stood up for the freedom of your people. I’m trying to live up to your request, Tzee Xicu. I don’t want to lead the Yagudo, but I’m fulfilling the charge you left me when you passed the burden of Oztroja from your shoulders to mine.”

“I was not worthy,” Tzee Xicu said, her melodic voice distant, “else I would have defeated you and the demons both.”

“I won’t contest that now,” he replied, “but this is for the good of the Yagudo. What happened to you, what happened to all of us, it was orchestrated. It was deliberate. What I’m doing is going to strike out at the people responsible. I’m going to make sure they pay, but Hiraiko – and probably the Signa – is tied up in it. If there’s anything you can tell me about why that might be, please, Tzee Xicu, help me help the Yagudo.”

The Manifest did not reply at first, peering into the stifling confines of her cell, never moving from the makeshift nest in which she sat. Her shimmering eyes gleamed behind the ceremonial mask she wore, still bearing the scars of the fight against Those Guys. Finally, she turned to Rykoshet, head upturned, and gave her answer.

“Ask this Hiraiko the Summoner not what she is hearing, but what she is not hearing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You would not,” Tzee Xicu replied, “but if you are lucky, she will.”

Silence overtook the cell. Rykosher knew he would get nothing further from her.

“There’s one more thing, Tzee Xicu.” He had debated whether or not he was going to say this, but in the moment it seemed the right thing to do.

“Speak,” she said simply.

“I may not survive this mission to make those responsible pay. If I fall, the Yagudo will be without a leader again.”

One of her shimmering eyes turned to regard him.

“If that happens, the people will need their real leader back. You will have to retake Oztroja. The Yagudo, the Jeunoans now here, without me, you are their best chance of survival.”

Whatever her opinions were on the declaration, she did not voice them. However, one of her claws suddenly dipped down and withdrew an uneaten crawler egg from the bucket of food which she daily refused. Beneath her mask, she bit down on it, chewing on it softly even as her hand reached down for another.

“I shall consider it,” she told Rykoshet.

He gave her a nod, and closed the door to her cell. With any luck, he had just saved her life.

He had no time to feel proud of himself before a clanging sound snapped his attention towards the other occupied cell, and he backed up against the iron bars at his back when he saw that the Yagudo’s prisoner, shackled hands grasping the gate of his cell, was standing, a crooked smile on his face, as he peered deliberately at Rykoshet with two blazing eyes.

“Going somewhere?” he asked in a tone dripping with danger.

Mouth hanging open slightly, Rykoshet breathed not a word in response, and edged away as quickly as he could. The prisoner stared after him, hands sliding down the bars as Rykoshet made for the exit.

“I just wanted you to know,” he called after the Elvaan in a dry and raspy voice, “I’m starting to get bored down here.”

Rykoshet couldn’t close the door to the dungeon fast enough.

Dawn had broken over the horizon a few hours earlier by the time Rykoshet made his way back to the great hall. It had been cleared of the remnants left from the previous evening’s festivities, and was now just as sparse and plain as the Yagudo liked it, save for the occasional Jeunoan construct beginning to take shape off in the corners. He had tried to snatch some sleep, but the encounter in the dungeon had left him tossing and turning, and he had been able to only just drift off to a dreamless slumber when Odessa entered his bedchamber, waking him according to his wishes.

“Don’t look at me that way,” she reprimanded, “you were the one who asked to be woken up this early.”

“Did you at least bring me something to eat?” he mumbled grumpily, trying to remember why it was he ever wanted to move his head from his pillow.

Odessa shot an acidic glare at him. “I’m not your serving wench,” she said bitingly, “I only woke you up so you can suffer the same lack of sleep you’re making the rest of us go through with this “Lethe” nonsense.”

“I thought San d’Orian women were raised to be gentle,” Rykoshet complained of the silver-haired Elvaan woman. She had taken her locks out of the braid she had worn the night before, and they once again tumbled freely down the back of her voluminous white robes.

“Well.” Odessa said sweetly, her voice dripping honey, “I guess the company I keep must have rubbed off on me.” Her visage immediately went from sunshine to storm cloud. “Now get up and get ready, everyone’s waiting downstairs for you to be disappointed.”

So it was he found himself in full armor, the black-and-crimson tempered damascus steel gleaming in the early sun, his gauntlets grasped tightly around the shaft of Tzee Xicu’s spear. The mighty polearm was more than a symbol of power, the cruelly curved blade surmounted to it looked as thought it could cleave stone. The bearer of the other of the Manifest’s keepsakes was already waiting, her green doublet and the drab leggings and gloves she wore as much a mark of her calling as the red horn she wore across her forehead.

“I’m glad you came, Hiraiko,” Rykoshet said honestly.

She nodded, her hands gripped about the Astral Signa, as the almost always were. “It seemed like the right thing to do.” She said simply.

“It doesn’t to me,” Betrayil said at her side. The ninja, garbed completely in black, drew a menacing figure at Hiraiko’s side. When Rykoshet had explained the nature of his undertaking and the caveat that the Summoner most accompany him, Betrayil’s joining the venture had been non-negotiable. Unlike the others gathered, Betrayil seemed not to have made any decisions about Rykoshet’s story one way or the other. He only knew Hiraiko was being asked to put herself in danger.

Vile said nothing, but only looked meaningfully at the sun, climbing high behind the pallor which covered the skies. It seemed to be growing darker by the day. It was still clear that he meant to indicate that time was passing quickly, and the mysterious Lethe had yet to appear.

Then there was the fourth person chosen for the job. Rykoshet’s scowl countered Battousai’s grin.

“If Celeres wasn’t nursing a hangover . . . “ Rykoshet growled.

Battousai shrugged, shifting the weight of the great sword at his back. “Lucky for you I can hold my liquor, eh?”

The elder brother turned away sourly. Life just seemed determined to make fun of him some days.

“This is a waste of time,” Vile said to no one in particular.

“Just a little longer,” Rykoshet urged, looking up to check the position of the sun through the vaulted windows. The throng moving at the regular day’s tasks through the great hall parted around them, some stopping to say hello,

“I guess mom never broke you of the imaginary friend habit,” Battousai commented after a few more minutes had passed. Rykoshet ground his teeth together without responding, which seemed to be exactly the response Battousai had wanted, making it even more infuriating.

The sun climbed higher. Only Hiraiko and Betrayil remained silent in their thoughts regarding what they were doing standing here. A gong sounded in the distance, tolling the hour. Vile turned, exasperated, and began walking away.

It was only because he turned to spit on the ground that he saw bubbles forming from between the cracks.

Water began gurgling up from beneath the surface of the stones of Oztroja as a thick mist suddenly poured in from the walls.

The look on Battousai’s face was worth every second of the waiting and more.

Chapter XII: King of Birds

Hiraiko shuddered as the power of the Astral Signa became known to her. Using the shinobi-tabi Betrayil had given her, she had slipped through the battle unseen until she could lay hands upon it, and focus her own will through the ancient weapon. Now, an entire new dimension of sensation was opening up within her, the primordial connection which existed between the world of man and the realm of the gods. The multi-facetted aura which enveloped Tzee Xicu now spread out from the Manifest and engulfed Hiraiko as well. The winner of the battle for the Astral Signa would be the victor of the entire contest altogether.

Ramuh cast down a scathing bolt of lightning from above her, but Titan’s mountainous form disregarded the blow as if it were nothing. The two gods collided, Titan attempting to physically destroy the ruler of the clouds, but Ramuh moved too quickly for Titan’s lumbering blows to make contact with. Even as the two summoners struggled on the ground, locked in a contest of wills, the instruments of their might mirrored their internal conflict with a very real one of their own. Titan came down upon the ground with a clamor that left two thick indentations in the stone where his feet had struck, and instantly leapt back in the air, shrugging off Ramuh’s thunderbolts, but still failing to strike his mark. Titan bounded into a wall, his body seemingly melting into the stone, and then took to the air again, chasing his elusive prey.

For the members of Those Guys not currently holding on to the Astral Signa, the experience was terrifying. Ramuh’s lightning bolts were powerful enough to strike a man dead in a single blow, and though they were directed at Titan, the energy they gave off could be felt jarring their bones and muscles with every flash of light in the sky. Titan himself created such an impact every time he struck the ground that it was like a miniature earthquake rattling their bodies. They clung to the floor desperately, trying to stay alive as the conflagration of dueling deities raged about them. Raising his head, Rykoshet knuckled up to see Tzee Xicu, her aura flaring up behind her, towering over the form of Hiraiko. The summoner was holding on with everything she had, but if she were to break her concentration for even a moment, Tzee Xicu would instantly crush her will, and then the rest of them as well.

“We have to help her!” Rykoshet shouted over the deafening sounds of the two avatars colliding. “She can’t do this on her own!”

“How are we going to get over there?” Odessa shouted back. Between the lightning and the earthquakes, even a slight movement could be their last.

“Eig!” Rykoshet called out. “Can you play your harp?”

“Yes,” came the response, “but it won’t work if you can’t hear it!”

“Then strum as hard you can, Eig, and get me to Hiraiko!”

Hiraiko, in the mean time, was wilting like a flower. Her desperate gamble had spared Those Guys from Ramuh’s assault, but this ocean of power she suddenly found herself submerged in was threatening to drown her. Whenever Titan swung his arm, she felt her muscles twinge. When he touched the ground, her legs shook. His boundless rage and limitless strength were now a part of her as well, but without Tzee Xicu’s experience, she was in danger of being overwhelmed by the newfound might and losing control of what she had called upon. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, could hear her jaw rattling, and struggled to keep her vision straight. Above her, Tzee Xicu pressed down even harder, their spiritual battle rushing headlong into its inevitable conclusion.

“I shall crush your bones beneath me.” Tzee Xicu hissed, “for the arrogance you dare show in laying hands upon the Astral Signa.”

Hiraiko gave no response, but only dug back further, further into her spirit, just as unable to break the hold as Tzee Xicu was. Both of them were now exerting all of their energy into the battle between Ramuh and Titan, and the first summoner to break would lose everything. Had Hiraiko called upon a different avatar, she would have no doubt already succumbed simply to the Yagudo’s incredible strength, but with the Astral Signa lending her the might of Titan, she could resist. For how much longer, however, remained to be seen.

Ramuh again released a searing spark through the air, and again it burst ineffectually across Titan’s chest as the hulking brute tore through the air, trying to get the god of lightning in his clutches. Titan again smashed into the ground, but this time tore a chunk out of the wall beside him and hurled it upwards, straight for Ramuh. The pale-skinned avatar avoided the impact, but Titan was already in the air, and upon him. Ramuh twirled his staff up, sparks showering down where it traveled, and met the attack head-on. Titan’s enormous hands wrapped around the staff, and suddenly the conflict became an echo of that between the two summoners behind it. Ramuh and Titan both crashed to the ground, sending out an explosive shockwave of debris, and stood perched over their spiritual links, their positions identical.

Back and forth they struggled, the embodiments of energy and physical strength towering over the others, locked in combat for survival. Tzee Xicu and Hiraiko, Ramuh and Titan, the Astral Signa caught in the middle. For the briefest of instants, a span like the flicker of a hummingbird wing, Hiraiko felt fatigue wash over her. That was all it took for Tzee Xicu to seal her victory. With a crushing burst of power, she took the advantage, and the light Ramuh was emitting suddenly grew to dazzling proportions. Hiraiko felt electricity surge through her body, and tried to cry out, but no longer had the strength to raise her voice. All she could do was grip on to the Astral Signa as Ramuh, Tzee Xicu’s will and power opening up the gates of his influence over the physical world even more, cast Titan aside with a sweep of his black staff, and flew into the air. Titan stood, stunned, seemingly unsure of how to proceed as Ramuh stopped, hovering above his opponent, and all living souls beneath.

The current of the astral flow coursing through her, Tzee Xicu prepared to unbound Ramuh’s constraints completely. A tear rolled down Hiraiko’s cheek, as much from strain as from anything else, as she realized this was the end.

She nearly gasped when a hand suddenly reached her shoulder.

Smoking, bruised, and with blood dripping from the wounds he incurred crossing the battlefield, Rykoshet, his travel hastened by the spell sung by Eig, had reached Hiraiko. His hand upon her shoulder was like an anchor, keeping her steady and safe in the tides which sought to sweep her under. The sum of his chi focused on her, Rykoshet took hold of the summoner and stared menace into Tzee Xicu’s eyes. He would not let this battle end the way she envisioned. Nor would he triumph alone.

From behind Rykoshet, Baeladar’s gauntleted hand clasped onto one of his shoulders, and Danienne his other, Odessa behind them. Liyah and Middlesky stood with her, continuing the chain, everyone pouring out all the spiritual power they had down the line, focusing it into Rykoshet, who lent all he could muster to Hiraiko. A second hand grasped Hiraiko, and there was Fated, mimicking Rykoshet in acting as a conduit, everything they had left being poured into a final effort, one last gamble. Hiraiko felt her energy surge, and her connection with the Astral Signa suddenly steady out as her head became clear. Eyes gleaming with the power flowing through her, she bared her teeth at Tzee Xicu, who shrieked in fury at her foes.

“Futile!” the Yagudo cried out. “You could bring the might of an army against me, it would not be enough!”

“We’re not an army.” Hiraiko replied, feeling the power of her friends flow through her, “we’re Those Guys.”

From above them, Ramuh unleashed his true power. All constraint tossed to the winds, the power of the storm welled up within his staff and came barreling down out of the night sky in one indescribable bolt of energy. He was the lightning itself, and all that he was, all that he represented, came charging down towards the group on the ground. Hiraiko released her will into the Astral Signa, her connection with Titan now feeling like a calm brook rather than a raging ocean, and responded to Tzee Xicu by unbridling her avatar completely.

With all the fury of the earth, Titan shot up into the sky, directly into the heart of the blast Ramuh had directed towards him. The ground heaved up underneath him, shooting up as if a new mountain were forming at his feet, and with rocks and boulders tearing themselves free from the earth to join their master’s side, Titan’s fury and Ramuh’s bolt became one. The lightning was so powerful it threatened to splinter even the rock, who remained suspended in the air, fighting with all the power of the earth to break through the blast and reach Ramuh who lay beyond. Tzee Xicu and Hiraiko were both staking everything they had left on this one, final attack. Ramuh directed the full force of the storm against Titan, and Titan brought the unchecked rage of the earth against Ramuh. Those Guys stood united, but as the power brought to bear hit them, they wavered, and the flow of energy they were directing into Hiraiko threatened to be cut off completely. Titan’s link to the world weakened, and the energy of Ramuh began to sink in. Against such power, Hiraiko felt as if her heart might stop.

No one even heard the impact of the knife into Tzee Xicu’s back, but the pain shot through the Yagudo’s body, and, in a moment of shock, she loosened her grip on the Astral Signa. That was all Hiraiko needed to tear the weapon free.

Tzee Xicu, still connected to Ramuh, felt everything as her avatar faltered, the full power of the Signa now barreling through Titan’s attack. The earth god broke through Ramuh’s weakened bolt and struck the god of lightning head on. Titan’s blows reverberated with such power that cracks formed in the walls a dozen feet below, the stones on the ground clattered and tore themselves loose, and fault lines appeared on the surface of the top floor of Oztroja. Only the protection his spirit cast upon Hiraiko, which she was in turn bestowing upon Those Guys, kept them from being blown apart by the power. Tzee Xicu collapsed with a cry of utter agony as Ramuh vanished, breaking apart as if made of glass, his essence returned once more to the world beyond Vana’diel. Behind her, Betrayil, his katana stuck in her back, yanked the weapon free, but lacked the strength to strike again. Hiraiko immediately ran to his side as he drooped down to his knees, and above her, Titan gradually began to fade into mist. By the time the enormous figure came back down to the ground, he was gone.

The skies above them cleared, the rubble which had been suspended in the air clattered back down to the ground. Many of Those Guys, completely tapped by the ordeal, did the same.

“You did it,” Betrayil whispered, his voice, even wounded and drained, laced with pride, “my Hiraiko.”

The summoner, exhausted in all aspects, could only hold him close and smile. Thus she had no way to respond when the shadow of Tzee Xicu fell upon them.

“Never . . . children of Altana!” The most powerful of the Yagudo came upon, claws extended, too fast for either of the defenseless pair to respond.

Tzee Xicu felt the impact in her spine as Rykoshet’s fist took her in the stomach. By channeling all the chi of the others, he had been able to save some of his own. Tzee Xicu felt exactly how much now as the Elvaan’s blow doubled her over in the air. For one moment, the two were connected, and Tzee Xicu’s head came close to Rykoshet’s pointed ear.

“I could not protect my people,” she said in tones barely above a whisper, her mysteriously musical voice talking only to Rykoshet. “You must promise me you will keep them safe. You must save the Yagudo.”

Rykoshet drew his fist back in surprise, and Tzee Xicu collapsed to her knees. She held there for a moment, and then fell backwards, her mask sprawling off on the ground behind her. The great leader of the Yagudo had fallen.

Those few members as still could walk approached Rykoshet, gathering about him and Hiraiko. None had any power left to give, but through some miracle, none of the physical wounds they had suffered were immediately life-threatening. It would take some time before the group had completely restored the power it had expelled, however, and with Castle Oztroja still filled with Yagudo . . .

They turned in surprise at the sound of talons clattering against the blasted remains of the altar. Astonishingly, the two High Priests who had stood positioned at the top of the ruined structure emerged from the rubble, appearing almost unscathed. Hiraiko clutched the Astral Signa tightly in her grasp, and the others reared back as well. If they were here to avenge their fallen priestess, then there was almost nothing anyone could do to fight back. Few of them were even still conscious. Rykoshet struggled to keep his legs upright, but found that even clenching his fist was too much effort. Vile, standing in front of him, stared with disdain at the High Priests and started to speak, but had not the power to strike them down.

The duo, robed and masked, stepped carefully and purposefully towards Rykoshet. They stopped after a few steps, glancing back and forth at the carnage surrounding them. The unmoving form of Tzee Xicu, the beaten down body of Those Guys’ Elvaan leader, and Hiraiko, on the ground, holding the Yagudo’s most precious artifact. It was a long, tense moment before they spoke.

“You have felled Tzee Xicu the Manifest.” One intoned.

“You have proven yourself a wielder of the Astral Signa.” The other said in a voice like a chant.

“You have become the rulers of Castle Oztroja,” they said together in unison, “leaders of the Yagudo people. May you bring the blessings of the gods to our people, and the vengeance of the gods to our enemies.”

Rykoshet had no idea how to respond as suddenly the verse was repeated all around him. As voice after voice rose up, he managed to slowly turn, and saw that a great host of Yagudo had emerged from the darkened caverns and ruined spires around them, and now completely encircled the area.

“May you bring the blessings of the gods to our people, and the vengeance of the gods to our enemies.” They said as one, and, like wave effect, slowly bent knee in front of the new masters of Castle Oztroja.

Tzee Xicu’s breath rattled in her chest on the ground, and all at once, Rykoshet understood.

“Take your former leader to the dungeon,” he demanded of the gathering, “and ensure that she survives. This is my command. Then, prepare yourselves and this castle for battle, because soon enough, we will go to war.”

The Yagudo responded in unison, even as the High Priests gingerly lifted Tzee Xicu’s towering form between them to obey Rykoshet’s command. As the blonde Elvaan slowly began to comprehend just what had transpired this day, he realized that with this battle behind them, the real struggle was only just about to begin.

Chapter XI: The Bird in the Nest

For one fleeting moment, Rykoshet’s dark eyes met with those of Tzee Xicu, and a pulse of energy erupted from between the point where their two weapons had met. The eyes of the Yagudo’s demigod shone bright red, like rubies behind her mask, and they blazed like tiny crimson stars. The two locked gazes, the weight of the Astral Signa pushing down on the edge of Rykoshet’s great sword, and in that moment, each took the measure of the other. Each knew that the other would give no less than all they had within them to win what was at stake.

Then, with a mighty thrust forward, Tzee Xicu cast Rykoshet away from her, sending the tall Elvaan skidding backwards, scraping his blade across the ground while grasping the handle to slow himself. No sooner had Rykoshet been knocked back, however, than Icon charged forward, directly behind him, axes swinging. Tzee Xicu nimbly leaped back, dodging Icon’s rapid assault as the silent warrior pressed onwards. In one swift motion, the Yagudo brought her staff up, hooking Icon’s axes over the long handle, and in a frightening show of strength, hurled the warrior directly into the air. For her trouble, she was greeted by a barrage of ice magic. The frozen spears of energy made her dig her talons into the ground to hold her balance, and she swiveled her head up to see Konstantine and Darutaru, already calling forth another spell. With a mighty sweep of the Astral Signa, a torrent of energy shot forth from around her, sending the pair of black mages hurtling off-balance.

Tzee Xicu went on the offensive, the Astral Signa seeming to blaze in her hands, though no flames came off of it. With a mighty forward thrust, she send waves of energy rippling through the air towards the downed black mages, but immediately Baeladar was there, his shield raised. He ground his teeth as the force bore down on him, but dug his feet in and held steady. Tzee Xicu poured on the power, but even as she did so, Danienne sprung up from behind Baeladar, scythe spinning over her head, and came down with a crash on the fearsome Yagudo. She swung her mighty weapon at furious speeds, driving Tzee Xicu back as she raised her staff to deflect the onslaught. The revered Yagudo’s eyes narrowed, and she smoothly transitioned her defense from a two-handed motion to twirling her staff rapidly within a single clawed hand, as her other one shot out. Instantly, Eig was overcome with the force of Tzee Xicu’s aura, and the song-spell she had been using to increase Danienne’s speed came to an abrupt halt as the Mithra bent over as if struck in the gut, dropping to her knees.

Even as Danienne began to slow, however, Atin rushed in from Tzee Xicu’s side, his great katana trailing sparks behind him as he swung it up across the ground. The Manifest deftly avoided the first stroke, but at the cost of dropping her guard to the front. Danienne landed a solid blow to the Yagudo’s torso, and Tzee Xicu grunted at the injury. Atin pressed his attack, swinging his great katana over his head and taking the stance to perform Tachi: Yukikaze. With the release of his chi through the blade, he slashed into Tzee Xicu, who felt the force erupt even through the magical defenses she had protecting her. She staggered, off-balance, even as Esane rushed in from the other side, and swung his own scythe with as much power as he could muster. A visible tear in the air appeared by Tzee Xicu as her shield was slashed, and she vainly struggled to maintain her footing before falling backwards.

Instantly, they were on her, hammering away at the defenses she had placed. The two dark knights and the samurai worked in tandem, and Tzee Xicu could not defend in every place at once. The three assailants were so focused on what they were doing that they failed to notice the glowing surge of energy forming at their feet until its spiritual power practically overwhelmed them.

All three were blown backwards with tremendous force, Danienne alone managing to plant her scythe in the ground and skid to a stop some dozen or so feet away. Atin bounced one on his back and then flipped over, landing hard on his stomach and chest, the murasame he wielded sliding harmlessly into the shallow water pool lining the bridge. Esane was simply thrust through the air, coming down on his back and shoulders, struggling to rise after the impact shook him through his armor. His scythe came down next to him, and he instinctively grasped at the handle, but then recoiled. The shaft had become so hot it burned him through the thick gauntlets he wore, and he stared at it for a moment before raising his head to see Tzee Xicu. The ruler of the Yagudo was no longer alone.

The demonic visage of Ifrit, God of Fire, hovered in the air behind her. His red-fleshed body appeared hewn from fresh volcanic rock, and indeed flames still leapt into the air from his skin. His eyes were fierce, glowing yellow like twin suns, and fire dripped from his snout onto the ground, where it hissed and smoked even on the stone floors. He turned his massive head around, curved horns glinting in the light produced by his own body, the wickedly sharp claws surmounting his hands clacking together as he awaited the will of the one who summoned him. The others reared back, gaping at the apparition before them. The beast was at least ten feet tall, even higher considering he floated unnaturally above the ground, the hooked claws on his feet never touching the earth. His scaly hide gave off such heat that the entire room, even outdoors at night, suddenly gave them all cause to sweat. The beast roared, and an inferno poured from his maw.

Betrayil was the first to act. Even as the others recovered from the initial shock of the Fire Avatar’s appearance, the ninja was already on the attack. Tzee Xicu flung her staff forward, and Ifrit instantly shot ahead, claws back, preparing to rend him in half. Betrayil blurred out of sight and vanished as Ifrit’s claws tore a shallow trench in the ground where they struck, the shadow it had attacked blinking out of existence. Turning, the beast unleashed a blast of flame, but yet again it found nothing but illusion, leaving the ground scorched and withered where it had attacked. The beast growled as pinpricks of ice shot up around its boiling flesh, the real Betrayil unleashing a barrage of tsurara upon it, his corresponding hand signals and release of chi flaring them to life with the ice-ninjutsu Hyoton. Ifrit roared, waves of overpowering heat sweeping forth, but still Betrayil pressed his attack.

“Hiraiko!” he called out, even while in motion, arching completely backwards to avoid the swipe of Ifrit’s massive claws. “Hiraiko, do something!”

“I . . . I . . . “ the summoner could not respond. She hung her head in futilety. “That’s Tzee Xicu.” She said in weak response. “And I . . . I’m just . . . “

Hiraiko bit her lower lip. She was in the presence of the most powerful Summoner in all of Vana’diel. What could she do?

“Hiraiko!” Betrayil said, screaming urgently, and the distraction was his downfall. Ifrit’s mighty arm swept outwards and took the ninja full on the side, the arm almost as big as his entire torso. He cried out as his flesh burned even while he flew to the side, landing just short of the high stone wall surrounding the area. Hiraiko shouted his name in panic, immediately running to his side.

“You are right to be scared.” She heard Tzee Xicu say as she fled.

“Oh FUCK YOU, bitch.” Came the immediate response.

Ifrit swung his head around as Tzee Xicu focused on the voice. Vile, fists clenched into tiny balls of rage, stood facing the demonic form of the fire God and the Yagudo who had summoned him. Behind him, Middlesky and Decay, their swords drawn, focused in on the duo as well. Around the three mages, the air shimmered with heat as it met the aura surrounding them, and Vile’s breath steamed as it came out of his mouth. Ifrit came forward at a charge, even as tiny droplets of water began to form on the surface of the two Red Mage’s swords. Vile stood, words of power whispered rapidly under his breath, even as the terrible beast bore down upon them. Ifrit came within a foot of where they were, arms raised of his head, preparing to destroy all three where they stood, and in that instant, Vile raised his head, and with a shout, the mages combined their forces into one. The pools of water surrounding the bridge suddenly shot up even as the liquid in the air itself gelled together, and Ifrit cried out as tendrils of water snaked out in every direction, enormous spikes shooting forth into him.

The Fire God was not to be so easily defeated, however. Almost as soon as the spell came to fruition, he blasted forth heat like a furnace, the flames which shot out from his back intensifying as he attempted to overpower the trio. Decay and Middlesky cast their swords upward, liquid energy pealing off of them in waves, even as beneath them, it shot out in torrents from Vile. Still, Ifrit pushed forward, and as powerful as they were, they did not have the stamina of a God. It became apparent that should they falter for but an instant, the Avatar would shatter through their spell, painful as it was for him to endure, and their lives would be next.

So focused was Tzee Xicu on exerting her will over Ifrit and overpowering the three that she failed to notice the blur out of the corner of her eye until it was too late.

Celeres’s fist smashed into the side of Tzee Xicu the Manifest’s face, the impact of his blow splintering the side of the Yagudo’s ceremonial mask. Tzee Xicu’s concentration broke, and Ifrit halted as if a collar around his neck had been jerked backwards. Before Tzee Xicu could raise the Astral Signa in defense, Celeres’s follow-up kick rammed like a charging wivre into her sternum. She gasped, and in that instant, Ifrit blinked out for just the batting of an eyelash. That was all the time needed.

Like an eruption, the aquan magic Vile, Decay, and Middlesky had been building to try and push Ifrit back shot forward, overtaking the suddenly defenseless deity. Ifrit’s roar shook the room as he was enveloped in the surging waves, and as the magic poured over him, he seemed to come apart, evaporating in the wind of power that came over him. The three mages stood, each drooping from the effort, the contest having drained them of their energy.

Celeres, sensing victory, pressed his attack. He brought his fist forward again, and then cried out as Tzee Xicu caught it, her talons pressing into his wrist. The Yagudo ruler rose up to her full, incredible height, surges of energy coming off of her in waves. Celeres tore his hand free, flesh scraping off, but had no time to dodge as the Astral Signa suddenly caught him across the face. He spat blood upon the ground, and felt his knee give out as the staff took him full in the side. With a contemptuous blow, Tzee Xicu sent the Monk sprawling to the side. The summoner strode forward, advancing on the trio of mages, even as Baeladar came forth to meet her. He raised his sword to catch her, but a burst of energy from her hand sent the Paladin spiraling to the ground. The mages, still worn out from their struggle with Ifrit, were powerless before her.

“Hiraiko . . . “ Betrayil muttered to his lover from the corner where she sat poised over his body. “Hiraiko, you have to help them . . . “

“But I . . . what can I . . . “ she started to say, even as Tzee Xicu attacked with all of her might. “Betrayil, help me!”

She gasped as Betrayil’s hand shot up into hers, and one of his ninja powders fell into her palm. Clutching it tightly, she turned back to the battle.

The Astral Signa came down, and with a resounding clang, met Fated’s shield.

Tzee Xicu growled as the fresh-faced Paladin held fast, standing over Vile and struggling to keep his legs from giving out. Tzee Xicu brought her staff up again, hammering at Fated, but the Paladin refused to give way. He felt the bones shake in his arm, and his heavy armor suddenly made him feel as if he were trapped inside an enormous cathedral bell every time Tzee Xicu brought the staff down. Dents formed in Fated’s shield, but with all his might, he held fast, keeping the Yagudo master at bay for every second he could.

“You are nothing.” Tzee Xicu said, halting her clubbing assault and now rearing down over Fated, her eyes blazing behind her damaged mask. She pushed the staff down with both hands, making his legs tremble to stay upright. “I can see it in your aura, sense it around you. You do not have what it takes to stand with this company, and you know it.”

“That might . . . be true . . . “ Fated responded, “but I . . . got you in position . . . for this!”

“What?” Tzee Xicu cried, even as Fated suddenly slid out from under her, the Astral Signa crashing to the ground in her hands. She raised her head, just in time for the blade from Icon’s axe to catch her squarely on the chin of her mask. A bloom of energy appeared where it had hit, Icon’s energy channeled through the axe, even as it returned to his grasp. The power from the attack was suddenly met with an opposing force from behind, and Tzee Xicu screamed as Rykoshet’s blow took her full in the back. The might of the spinning slash he struck her with hit so hard that the blade of his great sword shattered from the impact. The two bursts of energy release from Icon and Rykoshet collided, with Tzee Xicu in the middle. The flows of spiritual force rose up, and in the air above her, an enormous shimmering blast of power suddenly released, raining down upon the defenseless Yagudo.

“NOW!” Rykoshet ordered, diving to one side.

Instantly, the room came alight. Decay and Middlesky converted their physical strength into magical energy, even as Odessa and Konstantine, whom had been discretely restoring the health of all the injured as the battle raged, feverishly chanted at the duo and replenished them fully. Liyah and Darutaru, in tandem with Vile and the two Red Mages, unleashed a barrage of lightning energy, all of them under the influence of Eig’s songs, the sound of which Tzee Xicu had failed to notice picking up again with the din of battle raging about her. In one combined strike, they unleashed the full force of the power of thunder in the direct spot where Icon and Rykoshet had created a burst of light energy, further intensifying the effect. The ground shook and burst open at the feet of Tzee Xicu, who became naught but a silhouette, before even that was lost in the fury of power brought to bear against her. The following explosion shook the entire room, if not the whole of the top floor of Oztroja. Baeladar and Fated took as much of the brunt of it as they could, shielding the others from the devastating after-effects of the burst of magic they had unleashed upon Tzee Xicu.

“We did it,” Esane said, coughing up dust and smoke. “We did it!”

The others raised their heads, looking up at the whirling cloud of dust their attack had created. Liyah staggered for a moment, drained of her energy, and went down to a knee. Darutaru also exhaled noisily; glad to be done with it. The others slowly began picking themselves up, Konstantine and Odessa nearly exhausted at this point from keeping everyone in one piece during the struggle. A rush of exhilaration began to sweep through them. Esane was right. They had done it.

It was with some alarm that they realized their hair was all starting to stand on end.

“Weak . . . weak and foolish, children of Altana . . . “

“It . .. “ Rykoshet said, dropping the hilt of his now-shattered blade to the ground with a clatter, “it just isn’t possible . . . “

The dust cloud dispersed with a sudden gust of wind, and there, in the center, stood Tzee Xicu the Manifest. Behind her, glowing with a radiant aura, electricity crackling off of him after having absorbed the full brunt of Those Guys stratagem, was the Avatar of Lightning, Ramuh. His pale face and glowing blonde hair stood in stark contrast to his pitch black armor and robes, and the enormous figure towered above Tzee Xicu, the staff he held surging with the absorbed energy they had just released.

“You have proved even weaker than I feared.” She said in an indiscernible tone, almost seeming regretful. “You have defied the judgment of the Yagudo once today. Now your punishment I shall mete out personally.”

Ramuh’s eyes flared to life like lighthouses in the night, and the assemblage before Tzee Xicu had no time to even cry out before the waves of energy overtook them. The light was blinding, and the bolt Ramuh released hot enough to boil flesh from the bone. They stood helpless before it, and could only watch as their doom crashed down in the form of lightning.

The eruption from the ground shook them from their feet and knocked some few backwards completely. There was a tremendous upheaval of the earth, like wave rippling through solid stone, and something burst upwards from underneath them with a thunderous shout. Rock and debris pelted them, and the group as a whole had to shield their eyes from whatever had come up in front of them.

Rykoshet was the first to recover, lowering his hand to stare ahead in disbelief.

A colossus had emerged from the very ground at their feet, and taken the full-on strike of Ramuh’s lightning. It was a monstrous hulk, standing taller and broader than any golem, fists like boulders scraping the ground even as it stood at its full, wall-like height. Teeth bared in what resembled a grin, Titan, Avatar of Earth, stared back at the astonished Tzee Xicu.

What truly caught her off-guard, however, was the extra pair of hands suddenly on her staff.

The effects of the invisibility powder Betrayil had given her blowing off in the wind, Hiraiko stood before the ruler of the Yagudo, her hands locked around the Astral Signa. The feeling it gave off was indescribable, a connection between this world and the realm of the Avatars seemed to be forming in her very soul just by making contact with the ancient weapon. She stared up at Tzee Xicu, even as the same rainbow-hued aura which surrounded the Yagudo crept over her.

“This fight is not over yet,” Hiraiko shouted, “Tzee Xicu the Manifest!”

Tzee Xicu screamed in anger as Ramuh raised his staff into the air, electricity pouring out of it. Titan bound forward, leaping without pause into the eye of the storm. The two collided in the air above the summoners, and both Hume and Yagudo were fully aware that the stakes were victory or death.

Chapter X: What Passes for Negotiation

The stars above normally shone as points of light which would provide the dim aura which gave twilight its name. Now, with the world shrouded in the hazy pall which had formed in the sky the moments the demons swept into Vana’diel, they were naught but small points of gray shapes, blotching the night with their presence. The light was not an issue, however, as torchlight sharply stung at the eyes of the prisoners who stood at the foot of the platform they had been brought to. The structure Rykoshet and the others were placed in front of seemed more of an altar than anything else, built out in the open air, a large space for performing rituals left open at the top. Yagudo in outlandish ceremonial masks, their feathers dyed unnatural colors, stood poised at the top. The other beastmen, gathered about on the ground, looked up with reverence dancing in their eyes as from the shadows around them, drums beat in a frenzied rhythm.

Rykoshet chaffed under the chains they had put around his wrists. They were enchanted with the same magical energies the people of Tavnazia had used to safeguard their fallen city from the monsters which roamed in their blighted halls; not doing physical harm, but still sapping his strength to the point where he felt as weak as a chocobo hatchling. He struggled to see up to the top of the platform, but the height of the altar combined with the smoke hanging in the air from the torches made it impossible. Vile, beside him, had been gagged as well as shackled, the Yagudo taking no chances with any magic, regardless of how weakened it was. The Tarutaru only shot an acidic glare at Rykoshet when the Elvaan looked over at him, and somehow managed to convey the notion that if they survived long enough for Rykoshet to reach sleep, Vile was going to kill him while he was in it.

They had all been put under intense guard since being brought here. They had given up without a fight in the end, so outnumbered as they were, and Rykoshet had discerned almost immediately that fighting the Yagudo here would be wasted effort. He had allowed himself and the others to be taken so that they might reach this place, and speak with whomever it was that was really calling the shots. If they could make their case, he had thought, surely the beastmen would see reason. As the drumming intensified, the fire in the torches leaped, and the Yagudo at the top of the altar began tapping their staves on the ground in time. Rykoshet, for the second time today, began questioning his own judgment.

The drumming reached a fevered pitch, and the Yagudo seemed to be growing restless as the two garishly dressed priests at the top of the altar tapped their staves with increased intensity. In one enormous rush, it all came to a head, the Yagudo around them hooting and cawing, the drums beating in a headlong rush, and then finally, the priests brought their staves up and clashed them together, a shower of sparks breeding from their connection washing down on those below. The drums immediately fell silent, and the Yagudo fell into a hush. Rykoshet straightened his posture and looked straight up. One way or the other, this was it.

The Yagudo High Priests at the altar’s peak slowly drew their staves back down to the ground, and behind them, from the shadows, another Yagudo emerged. Wearing a mask unlike any worn by the other Yagudo, feathers alternating between green and blue as it walked like ocean tides, and standing a good foot taller than any of the other birdmen gathered there, came the Yagudo Rykoshet could easily guess was their leader. The Elvaan struggled against his chains. This was being put together like a ceremony, a show, and when religious fanatics like the Yagudo were involved, ceremony seldom ended well for those not sharing the same beliefs.

“Your Holiness,” a Yagudo from behind Rykoshet said in tones of awe, “I am Moo Ouzi the Swiftblade. I have brought you these outsiders, to receive judgment for their crimes.”

“Crimes?” Rykoshet said, startled, but the Yagudo who had been at the lead of those who captured them violently shoved him down to one knee.

“The prisoners shall not speak in the presence of our divine Priestess!” Moo Ouzi shouted with rage. Rykoshet grit his teeth, and the Yagudo seemed to restrain himself, drawing back his taloned hand. “I apologize, your Holiness, for my lack of restraint. It is not for this one to punish the outsiders.”

The Yagudo raised her hand in dismissal, and then lowered her gaze on the six assembled before her. She ran dismissively through Icon and Middlesky, then lingered for a moment on Hiraiko. Shifting her appraisal after a moment to Rykoshet, she seemingly ignored him and Betrayil as well, but then she saw the small form of Vile, glaring right back up at her with unrestrained fury. The Yagudo made a sign of revulsion at the sight of the Tarutaru, and took another step down to the group, hands clenching into fists. Rykoshet, for the first time since they arrived here, felt genuine apprehension. Too much had been left up to chance, and now it appeared his grand gamble was about to come up short.

The leader of the Yagudo gave them all one more cursory glance, and then, without a word, pointed one clawed finger in the air and made a decisive slashing motion across her own throat. The message was clear, and immediately the Yagudo began howling again.

“Sentence has been passed!” decreed Moo Ouzi, who then turned, snarling, down to Vile. “The intruders shall die for their crimes!”

The drums began beating again as the beastmen drew themselves around the others in a circle, taking out their weapons and advancing upon them. The Yagudo leader stood a silent spectator as her High Priests clapped their staffs together again, and the drums now were slow and measured. Rykoshet lowered his head in shame. He had let them all down.

Before a single blow could be struck, the Yagudo gasped collectively, and Rykoshet twirled about just in time to see the body of another Yagudo sailing through the air. It crashed on the ground before them with a tremendous thud, and then weakly rose. The Yagudo tried for a moment to reach his feet, and then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed like a sack of dead leaves, unconscious on the ground. The Yagudo were silent for only a moment before the sacred doors protecting the open-air chamber burst open, and gave way to the distinct sound of metal armor on stone floors.

Baeladar appeared through the smoke, Durandal already drawn, his shield in one arm at his side. The raven-haired Paladin settled his gaze upon the Yagudo’s leader, and then raised the point of his sword in the air towards her.

“I object.” The Paladin said in no uncertain terms.

“You would dare?!” screamed Moo Ouzi, even as a group of Yagudo circled their Priestess in a protective stance. “This is a holy place; you profane it with your presence!”

“Don’t remember asking for an opinion on that one, friend,” Baeladar said with scarcely veiled threat as he entered the chamber. Behind him, Danienne, Celeres, and the three mages they had brought with them followed after. There were anywhere between fifty and seventy Yagudo gathered in the area, and they stared at the newcomers with the kind of hate only a fanatic can achieve. For outsiders to tread willingly onto their holy ground was the worst kind of sin. “Now, I’ve asked as nicely as I’m going to. Release my friends or things will get rather ugly.”

“The blood of Altana’s children shall drench our altar tonight.” Moo Ouzi said in a fearsome snarl. “Brothers! Take them – “

“Stop!” another voice shouted, raising above the Swiftblade’s commands. They turned, and behind Baeladar they saw another Yagudo emerging. This one was tall and lean, and held a great katana in one of his hands. He came forward into the chamber, unaccompanied, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Mee Deggi,” Moo Ouzi said, “you have dispatched of the others.” Rykoshet’s stomach twisted in a knot at the pronouncement. “You arrive just in time. Join us in tearing the meat from these infidels’ bones.”

Mee Deggi nodded once, took a single step forward, and then tumbled sideways into the narrow stream lining the pathway to the altar.

“Now!” Rykoshet heard a voice shout from behind the unconscious body, just like that, the forms of the final team he had sent off to explore the castle materialized, the Invisibility spell Odessa had cast on them wearing off. The Priestess on the altar gave a visible command, and with a furious noise the Yagudo hosts rushed forward. The battle was joined. Steel met steel as the outnumbered Those Guys struggled to hold their position, collapsing into a tight formation on the natural stone bridge they stood on and forcing the Yagudo to come through the water to meet them. Rykoshet struggled to stand, but the chains binding him were draining his energy more by the second. He turned and ducked just in time to see the slash of a Yagudo katana where his head had just been, and stumbled backwards, trying to overcome the power of the chains.

A moment later, however, and he felt a rush of wind behind him, and heard the sound of metal hitting metal. All at once, his strength came back to him, and he raised his arms in amazement to see the enchanted links binding his shackles broken in two. Turning, he saw Danienne picking her scythe up out of the ground, and the others similarly freeing everyone else. Within seconds, the group that had originally formed was back up to its full power.

“Stop them!” Moo Ouzi shrieked, and howled as he himself leaped through the air, drawing out the enormous great sword he carried with him.

“Oh, shut up.” Rykoshet said in disgust of the whole situation, easily side-stepping Moo Ouzi’s clumsy strike. The Swiftblade, however, earned his name, the great sword immediately coming back up and nearly striking Rykoshet in the side, but the Elvaan clapped it’s blade between two hands, and with a mighty yank, tore the weapon out of its owners’ hands. In the same motion, Rykoshet grabbed hold of the handle, and then smashed the hilt against Moo Ouzi’s face. The loud-mouthed Yagudo sank like a stone, and Rykoshet appraised his new instrument. “Not bad,” he stated, “if a little weakly made for my tastes.”

“Glad to see you up and about.” Baeladar commented, Yagudo talons scraping against his shield as he backed up against Rykoshet. “I was a bit worried when I saw you on the ground like that.”

“It was part of a plan,” Rykoshet replied sourly.

“Ah. Well, good to know it’s all going smoothly.”

“You – “ Rykoshet began, but stopped to repulse the attack of a Yagudo trying to slice him down the middle. They were being hard-pressed to stop the assault against them, so numerous were the forces they faced. Outnumbered by at least three to one, Those Guys were struggling to maintain their position; even a momentary pause could spell disaster. They were being swarmed over, and it was clear that this kind of battle could only go one way. Rykoshet grit his teeth and kept swinging the massive sword Moo Ouzi had brandished. There had to be some way out of this.

Betrayil flowed like water, his twin katana dancing off of weapons aimed at him and Hiraiko, who seemed disoriented by everything going on. Celeres and Atin took attacks head on, Middlesky behind them, using magic to protect the two as the Yagudo’s steel bounced harmlessly off of his own stoneskin enchantment. Darutaru and Konstantine shot fire from their hands, but the confusion of battle was far too great for them to concentrate on anything major. Still, they managed to keep their attackers at bay, even as Decay, his sword sending out blades of wind magic wherever he sliced it, backed up Danienne and Esane, whose skills as Dark Knights were being put to the test by this tide of enemies. Liyah stood with Eig, the latter strumming her harp with fingers too fast to be followed, the former chanting protective spells to safeguard her companions. In the thickest part of the fighting, Fated valiantly defended the rest of them, like a spearhead against the oncoming Yagudo, as Icon, ever silent, swung his twin axes with skillful precision in the defense of his allies.

In the middle of all this, Odessa, who had removed the shackles from Vile and torn the gag from his mouth, struggled to understand what he was saying over the din of the battle raging around them. Celeres leaped forward, delivering a crushing blow to a Yagudo warrior that had raised its blade against her, but not even the swift Monk could be everywhere at once. Vile, his expression plainly furious, was shouting at Odessa now, but still she couldn’t understand what the Tarutaru wanted her to do. The sound of the Yagudo howling, the weapons crashing together, the shouts from everyone around them, it was just too much noise . . .

And that’s when she realized what the problem was. Vile wasn’t making any noise.

“They really didn’t want you using magic.” She said in marveled tone as she lowered her own head in incantation. Vile had not just been physically silenced; they had bewitched his voice as well. As Odessa intoned the words of the chant to remove a curse of silence, Vile’s voice suddenly rose in his own throat, mid-sentence.

“-until it can’t bleed anymore, you stupid cow, now use your shriveled brain and . . . oh, there it is. Good work, moron, you figured it out before we all died.”

Odessa didn’t have time to argue. Vile’s eyes turned from their normal angry brown to an illuminated purple right in front of her, and she chose to shield herself rather than contradict the Tarutaru Black Mage.

Vile, managing somehow to sneak in a foul curse every few words, chanted loudly and angrily, and in the air above him, a burst of light suddenly bloomed into existence. The Yagudo reared back in fear, their mages beginning counter-spells, but it was too late. Vile completed his infuriated incantation and a blinding surge of lighting shot up from the ground at his feet into the sphere in the air, and just like that it was raining electricity on the Yagudo horde. Tendrils of energy shot forth from the air, guided by Vile’s will, striking down the Yagudo where they stood. His teeth bared, Vile flung his hand up, and in one blinding flash, the ball of energy exploded outwards, defying the gray skies above by creating his own star there on the ground. A shot of lightning filled the air, and a second later it faded away, leaving only Vile standing, nose wrinkled as he surveyed his handiwork.

The others stood on the narrow pass they had been defending themselves on, blinking spots out of their eyes and struggling to hear one another over the thunderous sound Vile’s spell had made. Around them, the Yagudo who remained alive and conscious had backed fearfully up against the walls. On the steps, the Yagudo Priestess whom had been their commander lay prostrate, a smoking burn on her chest. Those Guys had been unharmed, save for their sight and hearing which were still recovering, but the fight was over. Vile, without saying a word, strode over to Odessa and beckoned her to come closer.

“What is it, Vile?” Odessa said, leaning in. As soon as she was close enough, the Tarutaru slapped her across the face and walked away. Odessa shot up, a hand on her cheek, her emotions a mixture of anger and gratitude that Vile’s hands were not as strong as his spells.

“Okay,” Rykoshet said loudly, still blinking somewhat, “not the way I had wanted this to go down, but I think our point’s been made. We’re going to be staying here for awhile, and since there doesn’t seem to be anyone left to oppose us with your leader joining the ancient spirits over there, you won’t mind if – “

He was cut off by the sound of clapping. Rykoshet paused, searching for a source, and realized it was coming from the still-shadowed top of the altar. The High Priests, he suddenly saw, had not moved during the entire course of the battle which had just taken place. They all stopped what they were doing, turning their eyes upwards. The Priests had crossed their staffs together again, and once again they could see a figure emerging from the heights atop the platform above them.

“You have put on quite the show for me, for which I am grateful. You should know, however, that within the catacombs of this castle, the Yagudo numbers are still great. They would have overtaken your silly group the moment you attempted to leave this room.”

The voice was high and lilting, strangely musical in its own way, though still distinctly Yagudo. Rykoshet brought up the barbaric sword he held, and the High Priests unfolded their staffs, revealing the source of the voice.

She was dressed the same way the priestess had been, but her mask was even larger, more resplendent, and her feathers moved like a constantly oscillating mirage, difficult to even fully focus on. It was as if she was a blur, or a spirit somehow existing in this world and another simultaneously. What was not hard to see, however, was the staff she wielded, the sight of which gave Hiraiko cause to gasp. She suddenly realized why the entire area had made her feel strange upon entering it.

The true chief of the Yagudo stood before them, and in her hands she held the Astral Signa, the weapon which allowed the avatars of the celestial deities to manifest themselves on Vana’diel. For centuries, it had been in the Yagudo control, and it and it alone had been the reason why the Tarutaru had always hesitated to come against them in force. Should anything befall the Signa, no one knew what repercussions it might have for the link between this world and the next. Also, should the Yagudo bring the power of the Signa to bear against them . . .

“Tzee Xicu the Manifest,” Baeladar declared, looking up at the ruler of all Yagudo. “A pleasure. Your man Quu Domi speaks very highly of you. I believe he’s in that puddle over there, no doubt enjoying dreams of your Holiness.”

“If we could speak,” Rykoshet interjected as the frightening visage of Tzee Xicu made its way down the stairs, closer and closer to them. “We have both been victims of the same demon attack. We’ve come here seeking refuge. This quarrel was brought upon us, we did not wish to fight with you.”

Tzee Xicu stopped at the body of her fallen Priestess, her tongue clicking behind her regal mask. “I shall have to appoint a new Avatar for our ceremonies now. Most troubling.” Raising her head, she stepped over the body lightly, regarding Rykoshet and the others. “The horrors from the nightmare world have attacked the lands of man as well? I see.”

“Yes,” Rykoshet said, hoping that he was finally making progress, “which is why we came here. It was the only safe place we could think of.”

“Safe?” Tzee Xicu replied, her tone almost sad suddenly. “That is what we Yagudo believed. The demons dropped from the sky, and overtook us. Our numbers were greatly reduced, only the size of our great Oztroja kept us safe. We drove them back, but they will attack again.”

“Then let us help you,” Rykoshet offered, taking a step forward. “we have a mutual foe in the demons. It only makes sense to work together.”

Tzee Xicu halted in her path, staring through her mask at Rykoshet. “Work together?” she stated. “The Yagudo working with the children of Altana? Elvaan, I am afraid you have misjudged the situation. Desperate though you may think us to be, the Yagudo would never allow infidels to befoul our holy temple. You came here as conquerors, willing or no, and the only way you are going to leave this place alive is if you succeed in your goal.”

“That’s not what we’re after!” Rykoshet protested. “Just listen to us!”

“I have heard more than enough!” Tzee Xicu suddenly roared, the change in her voice forcing Rykoshet back a step in surprise. “You have attacked my people, defied the judgment of the Gods, and now seek to insult the Yagudo with claims of alliance? I will not tolerate such blasphemy on our holy grounds! Your fate was sealed the moment you entered our castle doors, and now you will leave this room as the masters of Oztroja, or not at all! Prepare yourself for battle most epic, children of Altana, for I am Tzee Xicu the Manifest, and all others pale before me!”

An aura flared to life around Tzee Xicu, a rainbow-like shine of eight different shades. Rykoshet shouted his defiance, bringing his new great sword up, and the two crashed together as the struggle was joined.