Chapter LXVI: What Makes a Man a King

“I have a plan,” North said as the echo of Aspidochelone’s bellow faded into the Valley of Sorrows. “Keep it busy for me.”

“Keep it busy!?” Bongo shouted, but the Beastmaster was already on the move. Alabaster furs parted in the winds as he dove unflinchingly towards the howling madman, Keftenk.

“Damn you!” Dantrag shouted after the Elvaan, but was cut off as the enormous tortoise bore down upon them. With practiced reflexes, the Warrior dove to safety. Aspidochelone was as immense as anything Bongo had ever seen. It was as if a castle turret had sprung to life and attacked them. Sand was still pouring like waterfalls from its immense shell, buried beneath the Valley of Sorrows since time immemorial. The monstrosity reared back its head, roaring an earth-shaking cry that sent the Adamantoise nearby scurrying for safety. This creature was as far above them as they were a normal turtle.

With a shudder of earth and sand, the gargantuan Adamantoise struck at Bongo with its enormous foreleg. Earth-toned scales rougher and thicker than any leather crunched into the ground, surmounted by a row of jagged and trunk-like claws. The creature whipped its head towards the Ranger as he strafed to the side of its attack, pulling back an arrow even as he fled. Before he could fire, the monster swiped at the sand in front of him, sending up a spray which all but buried Bongo in an instant. Tearing free and sputtering the sediment, his mind raced as he realized Aspidochelone’s cavernous jaws were closing over him.

Even as he raised his arm in a futile defensive gesture, twin flashes of light blurred past him. The monster growled as sparks showered down from its steel-hard shell. Bongo wasted no time springing free from the sand and rolling aside as Aspidochelone turned its attention towards the new distractions of Hubby and Luma. Touching down simultaneously following their strike against it, the duo hit the ground running, great katanas drawn in the face of the massive foe.

Hubby’s dark eyes narrowed into slits as the tip of his blade flared with his focused chi. The Samurai charged Aspidochelone with reckless abandon, the air howling around him as he sliced through the intervening distance. Opening its gaping maw, the monster prepared to meet him with jagged fangs, but received only a spray of sand as Hubby suddenly dropped down, using his momentum to slide beneath the enormous tortoise and escape the clutches of its snapping teeth. Almost in the same instant the Samurai stole its attention, his counterpart slammed directly into the side of its reptilian face.

Luma had spun through the air like a top, her weapon striking Aspidochelone so rapidly the monster could not respond before she was already clear of it. Spinning on her heel, the Mithra brought her great katana up in a great arch, sending a blizzard of sand into the beast’s eyes. It violently shook its head, roaring as it did. The sound had hardly escaped its throat when Hubby’s great katana dug into its back leg, creating a terrible sound like steel against stone as he sliced against it. Luma ran clockwise in front of him, similarly targeting Aspidochelone’s massive haunches.

The monster took a swipe at Luma, and the Mithra laughed as she ducked beneath the blow. The next instant, a barrage of arrows sank into the flaps of hide around the turtle’s throat as it exposed the area while searching for the two Samurai. Bongo hastily drew another projectile from his quiver. If Aspidochelone had felt the impact of his attack, it gave no indication as it continued snapping and biting at the two harassing its legs. Grimacing, Bongo drew back again, aiming for one of its glowing red eyes.

“Wait!” Bongo nearly released his shot in surprise as November’s hand clamped down over his. The Summoner’s grasp held him tight, refusing to let him fire the shot. “We can’t hurt it! It’s being used!”

Bongo stared at her incredulously. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“This great beast is only Guttler’s pawn,” November pressed. “To harm it would be going against everything North and I – “

“Shove it, lady,” he snorted gruffly, shaking her off. She cried out in protest as he loosed his arrow, which sailed through the air and struck true in the eye of the beast.

The arrow broke in half, falling harmlessly to the ground. Aspidochelone turned its head, the shafts in its neck falling out as it did so. They had barely penetrated its thick hide past their tips.

“Oh, crap,” the Ranger muttered. His bow lowered towards the sand as his mind drew a blank on what to do now.

Hubby, in the meantime, was still blunting his sword against the monster’s invincible skin. The beast was futilely trying to follow the Samurai’s actions, but every time it came close, Luma struck from the other side, starting the chase all over again. It stomped furiously at the sand, snapping at the two whenever they were near, or trying to swat at them with its massive clawed appendages. Even though it had no luck in doing so, nor were they successful in doing any real damage to the beast. Aspidochelone’s mythic toughness was too much for a pair of Samurai.

“Dammitaru,” Qwid swore from where he stood against the rocky cliffs surrounding the Valley of Sorrows, “this isn’t going to work.” The Red Mage weaved a spell as he spoke, and a blossom of orange light overtook Luma. Moments later, he began mimicking his earlier motions, using the Haste spell upon Hubby as well.

Bongo kicked up the sand as he ran towards the Tarutaru, nocking an arrow in his bow simply out of habit. He never removed his eyes from the tortoise as he maneuvered through the showers of sand kicked up by the battle. Qwid briefly acknowledged his presence, but then returned to keeping Hubby and Luma one step ahead of their foe.

“Goddamn,” Bongo said breathlessly, “this was so much easier when we had linkpearls.” He remembered the demons raining from the sky as they battled Tiamat, and the terrible sound of a hundred linkpearls shattering at once. Forcibly, he moved past the memory and focused on Qwid. “Have you got any ideas? We’ve got to take this thing down, we can’t last forever.”

“Stop it!” Bongo gave a disgusted sigh as November’s voice caught up to him. “We only need to halt Aspidochelone while North – “

“November!” the Ranger snapped viciously, rounding on her with fire in his eyes. “This is Aspidochelone, the island that walks! This thing could snuff us out in a second if we don’t go at it full tilt! What part of this do you not understand?”

The Summoner reared to her full height with a withering stare. “In all of Vana’diel, amidst all the turtles and sea creatures and even the Adamantoise, there is but one Aspidochelone. I won’t have this beast cut down by the lot of you while it is being used against its will!”

“We can’t hold out much longer, November,” Qwid told her, gritting his teeth. Even as he spoke, he was again recasting the magic he was plying the Samurai with. Sweat was starting to bead on his brow as he delved into the reserves of his power. “If we don’t find a way to stop this thing for good – “

“It only has to be until North – “

“We can’t wait for North!” Bongo cut her off. “That jackass led us straight into this, and now the five of us are all . . . “

He trailed off, head snapping towards the battle raging not twenty paces away. Hubby and Luma were doing their best to keep the monster off-balance. Qwid was supporting their efforts. He was here arguing with November.

“Wait a second, where’s Dantrag?”


North sprung through the air with uncanny precision. His heel scraped against Keftenk’s face, and the other Beastmaster staggered with the impact. Skidding backwards, he quickly recovered himself, raising up the red-glowing Guttler.

“I will drink your blood first,” he threatened in the terrible voice which came from his lips but was spurred by the axe. “This is your end.”

The white-garbed King of Onzozo spat contemptuously at Keftenk’s feet. From beneath the revolting tiger head helmet he wore, he growled like an animal back at North.

“Don’t speak so to your betters,” North told him acidly. “Hand yourself over, Guttler. You and that fool are too weak to survive together.”

“Weak?” Guttler’s voice replied, aghast, through Keftenk’s mouth. “Weak? Guttler not weak! Guttler . . . thirsty!!”

Too quickly to follow, Keftenk charged forward. North sidestepped his assault, smartly raising a knee into the other Beastmaster’s midsection as he ran forward. Keftenk stumbled forward, flailing about with Guttler. Some strikes actually came near North, but he easily deflected them with his club.

“I thought you were a Beastmaster, Keftenk,” North mocked, “yet it seems you’ve become nothing but a beast yourself, tamed by Guttler, a mere weapon.”

“I will – “ even as he spoke, the voice of Guttler and Keftenk mingled in the air. “kill – drink – thirst – hate – blood – Die!”

“So articulate,” North sighed, parrying another clumsy strike. Keftenk took an air-cleaving strike at him, and the Beastmaster sprang backwards. Even as he did so, a streak of green and white lanced through the air, and Keftenk shrieked as a trail of blood suddenly appeared on his arm. Spinning in the air, Panzer Galahad turned to face him. North’s pet beetle snapped and hissed, and Keftenk’s eyes darted from one threat to the other as his foes advanced on him.

“Blood!” He cried out. North leaped clear as he unexpectedly lunged Guttler into the sand. Almost instantly, grains turned from their normal white to a deep red. The wave of blood-colored sand spread quickly, and North brought up his club guardedly. His eyes went wide as a monstrous arm suddenly burst up from the sand. Then another, and another, until a veritable swarm of appendages were surging up from the bloodied sands. With a heave and a spray of red silt, a diremite pulled itself from the desert, gnashing and threateningly spinning between North and Galahad.

“Lifedrinker Lars,” Keftenk smirked wickedly, running his tongue along Guttler’s edge. “He wants blood, too.”

“Alright then,” North responded, eyes narrowing. “Let’s settle this like Beastmasters.”

Galahad’s wings flared to life, and the beetle shot through the air towards Keftenk. Lars sprang towards him, a blur of legs and teeth. They collided in midair, even as their masters rushed towards one another. Guttler swung down with a powerful chop, seeking to cleave North in two. The Elvaan blocked the strike with his club, but the shock nearly forced him to drop the weapon. He pulled back almost instantly, letting his weapon work as it retaliated of its own accord. Keftenk struggled as it lashed out at him again and again, the enchanted weapon breaking through Guttler’s defenses and landing several bruising blows against its wielder.

North quickly went in for the kill, but Guttler was too vicious to be stopped so easily. The axe struck like a snake, and North cried out as it sliced open his cheek. Warm blood trickled down his jaw as he pulled back, grimacing. Keftenk lunged forward to strike again, but North caught him with a straight up punch to the nose, followed by a rap against his fur-wrapped ribs with his killer club. The other Beastmaster rolled aside and pounced, North barely avoiding his strike. The blundering Keftenk, he realized, was being guided more and more by the ruthless and bloodthirsty Guttler. The longer this fight was drawn out, the more desperate it would become.

Suddenly, he heard Galahad let out a high-pitched cry. With a gasp, he saw Keftenk’s diremite sinking its claws into the beetle’s shell. Galahad thrashed wildly, trying to escape the deadly beast, but it was being sprayed with a stifling web even as it was wounded further. Lars hissed triumphantly as he prepared to bite down into Galahad’s injured carapace. North ran forward recklessly, trying to reach them in time.

Guttler suddenly flared with power, tearing North from his feet. He rolled over in the sand, coughing and sputtering as the untamed energies of the axe coursed like lightning through his body. He stopped, prone on his back, struggling to regain control of his body as Keftenk surged forward, wild eyes gleaming as he gripped Guttler with both hands and leaped into the air. The sun caught Guttler’s steely surface as it growled, coming down to plunge itself into North’s defenseless chest.

North gasped as a streak of black crashed into his opponent. From the shocked cry that Keftenk let out, he was just as surprised as North was. Lifedrinker Lars gave a threatening hiss, spinning towards its master. Thinking quickly, North lashed his arm out, drawing spiritual energy from Galahad.

“Panzer Galahad, return!” he shouted, and with a flash of red energy, his beetle vanished from the diremite’s clutches. North felt a familiar warmth return to the jug of sap containing Galahad’s essence at his belt. He breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered his situation and scrambled to his feet.

It was Dantrag, the Elvaan Warrior whom had saved him. North watched in something close to astonishment at the sheer ferocity with which the silver-haired San d’Orian attacked his foe.

“You owe me one!” He shouted back at North, even as his two axes whistled through the air. One had a blade as black as midnight; the other was a hulking brute of a weapon, crafted in the Orcish design. He wielded one in each hand, striking at Keftenk with single-minded ferocity.

Keftenk seemed both unprepared and completely taken aback by Dantrag’s assault. He fended off blow after blow as the Warrior advanced implacably upon him. Guttler growled with fury as Dantrag struck at him repeatedly, faster and harder with each fresh volley. The Elvaan struck with both axes simultaneously, forcing Keftenk to hold Guttler outstretched to fend off both deadly weapons. With his body exposed, Dantrag gave him a contemptuous kick to the sternum. The Beastmaster coughed and staggered backwards, clutching to his weapon desperately.

“Guttler – I – spill – how dare – drink – “

“Shut up,” Dantrag snarled, backhanding Keftenk with his gauntleted hand. He spit blood out onto the sand, but quickly shot back a devastating blow, eyes a haze of fury. The air around him was beginning to turn red as Guttler’s anger manifested itself in a hazy aura. Dantrag’s black-bladed axe deflected the relic weapon, and he struck a crushing counterattack with his Orcish axe. It crunched the sand beneath it as Keftenk nimbly leaped away.

“Dantrag, stand down!” North ordered as the Warrior started to give pursuit. “You handle the diremite or something, but do not anger him further!”

“I’ve got this, North,” he said, not looking back. The former soldier marched with an air of inevitability towards Keftenk. North ground his teeth in frustration. He knew what was coming soon.

Then, as if responding to the reference of it, Lifedrinker Lars sprang up in front of the Beastmaster. North gave a start, raising his club by instinct. In the next moment, he dove for safety as a spray of the filamented webbing that had held down Galahad arched towards him. The thought of wasting time on Lars while the true struggle played out in front of him was infuriating. He had no doubt that Dantrag could make quick work of the fool Keftenk.

But he was fighting Guttler. And the result of such a battle was never in doubt.

Dantrag swung down again, seeking a killing blow. Guttler fended off the strike, and the pulsing aura surrounding Keftenk grew darker. Wisps of smoke were beginning to waft from Guttler’s silver-and-black blade. Dantrag paid it no heed. He merely hammered away, battering Keftenk backwards mercilessly. The Warrior moved like a man possessed, and his rampage would have torn a lesser foe to shreds.

This was no lesser foe, however. This was Guttler.

Dantrag failed to notice until it was too late when the temperature shot up around him.


Hubby paused, panting. The frantic pace at which he was moving was taking its toll. Despite his best efforts, he had not so much as scratched Aspidochelone’s impenetrable shell. Luma was faring no better, the Mithra’s breath coming in quick gulps as she hefted up her great katana, dancing backwards to avoid a snap of the monster’s jagged teeth. Some ways away from them, Qwid hunched over, hands on his knees, trying to remain upright.

“November,” Bongo pleaded, “c’mon. You’ve got to do something to buy us some time. Summon something out here to distract it while we catch our breath.”

The Summoner’s dark eyes flashed. “I cannot risk injuring it.” She told him flatly.

“Bitch, what is wrong with you?” Bongo snapped, finally seizing her by the shoulders. “What do you think the first thing that’s going to happen will be once this finishes with us? It’s going to turn around and eat your jackass boyfriend! Now get some magic – “

Furious, November threw his arms down, slapping him smartly across the cheek. “Do not EVER lay hands on me!” She screamed. “I know the stakes involved! But I also know North would never condone the destruction of an innocent beast!”

Bongo almost punched her right then and there, but the moment was lost as Aspidochelone interjected itself into the scene.

Its enormous mouth stretched open. Hubby drew up his sword, and Qwid shouted a warning. Luma stared, dumbfounded, as a burst of bubbles escaped Aspidochelone’s maw. There was a brief pause as they floated into the air. Then, the water came.

A spray with more force than any waterfall or geyser shot forth from the terrible creature’s mouth. Hubby shouted towards Luma as he leaped into her, tackling her away from the crushing blast. Aspidochelone turned its head, following the two, and caught them both from the side. The two Samurai were blown apart from the impact, flying out in different directions on the treacherous current.

Bongo cried out in protest, running towards them as he saw Luma dragged down beneath Aspidochelone’s water breath. Hubby was thrown backwards from the impact, colliding with a rocky outcropping and sliding motionless to the ground. The Ranger rushed towards his friends, but found the ground sticking to his boots. So powerful was Aspidochelone’s blast that it had turned sandy beach into muddy mire instantly. He sank into the muck, angrily struggling to break free and reach either Luma or Hubby. The torrent had stopped, leaving two fallen Samurai in its wake. He could see Luma now, lying face-down in the mud, her body twitching.

“Hubby!” Bongo shouted. “Luma! Hang on!”

And then, a flash of darkness swept across the battlefield, and a terrible sensation of dread followed on its heels.


Keftenk’s eyes glittered with madness, and Guttler sang with power.

“Dantrag!” North shouted, but the time for warning had passed.

One moment, the Warrior was pounding through Guttler and Keftenk with abandon. Then, the air went still, and a stifling heat dried out North’s body. There was a high-pitched wail as Guttler went darker than the night sky. Dantrag halted his assault, realizing now for the first time that something was wrong.

A sphere of energy burst from the axe, and in the next instant the Warrior was lost in its power.

Black lightning arched through Dantrag’s body as he screamed, blown backwards in the total release of Guttler’s power. Parts of his armor blew off of his body, and his weapons were tossed away like toys. The shockwave rippled through him like an earthquake, and the Elvaan convulsed in the air, crashing down to the sand with sparks of Guttler’s deadly strike still coursing through him. The Warrior gasped, blood flowing from his nose and ears, limbs flailing of their own accord. He began choking, unable to draw breath.

Keftenk loomed over him, the dull aura surrounding him now darker and redder than ever. A grim smile played about his lips.

North smacked Lifedrinker Lars away with his kraken club, the creature landing upright some yards back, rearing up with clear intent of violence.

“Guttler!” North shouted, turning Keftenk’s eyes away from the helpless Dantrag. “I’m ready to end this.”

Filled with confidence from striking down Dantrag, Keftenk turned, still smiling. Lars came in closer, and North was starkly aware that he was now in the situation he had placed Keftenk in earlier. But the King of Onzozo had something Keftenk did not.

“Still too weak for me,” North said spitefully, and the smile faded on Keftenk’s face. “Let’s do this again, for real this time.”

His chi coursed through the jug of water he pulled free from his side, and Lars reared back as he emptied the contents on the ground in front of him.

Even Keftenk looked wary as a single flower blossomed from the ground where North had poured out the jug. The water glittered in the sun, and the flower was wet with dew even in the midst of the dry desert.

A moment later, it shot upwards, attached to the segmented, spine-riddled body of a Cactaur.

“Amigo Sabotender,” North addressed his pet, “I can only keep you out for a short time. Let’s get it right the first try.”

Keftenk and Lifedrinker Lars both rushed in simultaneously, not wanting their opponents to have a chance at organizing an offense.

North allowed himself the slightest of grins as they closed in on him.

“Now!” He commanded. “Ten Thousand Needles barrage!”


“DANTRAG!” Bongo cried, pulling himself free as he saw his friend’s body crash to the ground.

“Bongo, look out!” He heard Qwid’s warning, and barely registered it in time to duck down as Apsidochelone’s crushing teeth bit together where he had just been standing. The mammoth creature swiveled its head about, trying to decide which one of them to crush first. The Ranger loosed a barrage of arrows into it, letting out a guttural snarl of frustration as they bounced off it harmlessly.

“Qwid, get to Dantrag!” Bongo ordered. The Red Mage began to protest, but Bongo cut him off, even as he scrambled away from Aspidochelone’s stomping feet. “He’s dying, Qwid! Get to him!”

A plan was beginning to form in Bongo’s mind. A plan that placed him and his friends in a large deal of unnecessary risk, but thanks to North and November they had no choices left. Forcing himself to keep moving and not rush towards Hubby or Luma, he darted away from Aspidochelone, and saw Qwid reluctantly do the same. With the monstrous reptile’s attention focused on Bongo, the Tarutaru wasn’t even noticed as he sped hurriedly towards his fallen friend.

Bongo pumped his legs as fast as he could, Aspidochelone roaring its deep and bellowing roar behind him. Back where he had been, November still stood, observing the scene with eyes racked with indecision. With all the speed he could muster, the Ranger closed in on her, bringing Aspidochelone hot on his heels.

The Summoner barely had time to gasp when Bongo snatched her off of the ground. Aspidochelone’s head rammed into the rock wall behind them as they darted away, creating a spider web of fissures upon the impact point. It turned after them, growling.

“We have only one shot, Summoner,” Bongo shouted at her as he fled, ignoring her demands to be released as she pummeled him with closed fists. “I’m going to set you down and that thing is going to be charging at you.”

“I won’t – “

“I can stop it,” Bongo told her, his tone deadly serious. “I can stop it just the way you want, without hurting or killing it. But if it’s at full strength when I do it, like it is now, it’ll be for nothing. You’re the only one here strong enough to weaken this thing for me, November. Don’t argue. Do it. It’s our only chance.”

Just like that, Bongo turned on his heel. True to his word, he set the Summoner down in the sand, leaving her to face down Aspidochelone alone.

The beast had not moved from where it had collided with the wall, holding off cautiously. Its red-glowing eyes shifted slowly from where November stood to the still-running Bongo. They were far apart from each other now, but still in a relatively straight line. It could charge over them, but it knew they could move quickly enough to fool it. Biting and stomping after them had not worked. Its other attack had.

Bongo afforded himself a single look back. If the mortal peril hadn’t been so grave, he would have smiled when he saw his plan unfold.

Apsidochelone once again opened its cavernous gullet, and once again water began streaming out from its sides. Bubbles poured from its mouth, and November’s eyes were like dinner saucers as the water jet began streaming towards her.

Like a dam bursting, Aspidochelone’s water breath shot outwards, the pressure enough to turn November’s bones to paste upon impact.

The Summoner drew in a sharp breath as the needle-sharp spray which was the precursor of the full blast swept over her.

Bongo’s hair stood on end as electricity filled the air.

The Valley of Sorrows trembled as Aspidochelone cried out in agony. Its torrent dissipated into the wind as it faced down the awesome might of Ramuh the Olduum, Avatar of Lightning. The black-robed being towered over November, electric force cascading through the very moisture the turtle had called forth to crush its foes. Now it served as the conductor for its downfall.

It writhed as cords of electric fury snaked across its shell. November held out her hands, guiding Ramuh’s power, but her face was twisted in pain. She could not allow herself to die, but she couldn’t kill this creature either. Bongo had forced her hand, but if he had everything worked out correctly, everyone would win.

He drew an arrow from his quiver, focusing his chi into a single point of spiritual energy glowing at the tip.

“Cut it off, November!” He called out. “I’m ready!”

Instantly, Ramuh folded in his arms, vanishing in a haze of lightning that made Bongo’s muscles tense up. He pushed through it, predator’s eyes zeroing in on the intervening distance between himself and Aspidochelone. Smoke was pouring off of the monster’s shell and out of its mouth. It looked confused and hurt, and was in the midst of taking an unsteady step forward. Bongo saw his mark, and released.

The arrow cut through the air. Bongo let the energy he had gathered into it flow. A flash of light appeared over Aspidochelone, darkening the ground at its feet.

It struggled to take another step forward when something reached out and grabbed it.

Crying out in dismay, the beast attempted to escape, but that only made the pull stronger. From the ground itself, from all over the monster, its own shadow suddenly anchored it in place. Bongo’s technique rooted the creature just as surely as if it had been chained to the spot. Soon it could not even move its head, the shadows infused with Bongo’s chi holding it fast and tightening around it.

“Shadowbind, ya dirty slut,” he said with obvious relief. “Gotcha.”

November turned back and forth from the Ranger to the monster, her expression aghast. “What did you – “ she started to say.

“It’s stuck, and alive,” he said, holding his shoulder. It ached from firing so many arrows, but he rolled it through once to stretch, wincing at the pain. “If we can finish the other half of this quickly, we’ll survive, too.”

“Then put your faith in North,” she told him. “The rest lies with him.”

“Aw, shit,” Bongo moaned, lowering his head towards the ground. Then the sounds of battle reached his ears, and he quickly turned to watch the true struggle unfold.


Lifedrinker Lars gave a final twitch. The spines riddling its body had punctured through quite near everything vital. It went still, and then flashed out of existence with a crack of red light. It returned to Keftenk, just as the form of Amigo Sabotender winked out as well.

The blood-stained Beastmaster regarded his own wounds. He had pulled Lars forward like a puppet on a string, using it as a shield against Amigo’s needles. It had worked, for the most part. Stray quills stuck out of his arms and legs, and blood flowed in thin streams from the wounds. It was nothing compared to the relentless storm which had destroyed the diremite, but the pain was still infuriating. The aura around him had grown in intensity, now blazing like a fire burning from his body. Guttler was muttering horrible, violent oaths, promising to visit unthinkable pain upon North.

Keftenk raised a bloodied arm in the air, spittle and foam in his teeth. The sunlight above made his limb a terrible shade of dark red as it fell into shadow. His eyes were twin points of fire burning into North. The two Beastmasters locked gazes as North wiped the trail of blood stemming from his lip away. Keftenk howled like the beast he had become, and Guttler trembled in his grasp.

“You can’t even hold that axe properly,” North growled, spitting blood out the side of his mouth. “Failure. Weakling.”

“SHUT UP!” Keftenk roared, and Guttler came crashing down, filling the air with the relentless intensity of its power.

North’s breath hissed out of his clenched teeth as Guttler slashed across his chest. A bright right spray issued forth from the deep wound across the Elvaan’s torso. He nearly fell forwards, knees wobbling as he struggled to place a steadying foot in the sands beneath him. One eye closed against the pain, he still stared condescendingly at Keftenk.

“I stood here and you couldn’t deliver a killing blow?” North scoffed, even while clutching a hand quickly filling with blood against his own chest. “Idiot. You’re useless without me. Stupid. Weak.”

The other Beastmaster let out a roar that shook the sand. A wave of energy burst forth from Guttler, sweeping across the Valley of Sorrows. Bongo and the others were forced to shield themselves as a wave of gravel rose up to shower across them, and even Aspidochelone was given pause. The brute struggled to swing its tree-trunk neck around, gleaming red eyes searching for the source of the disruption. North, on the other hand, remained still, and somehow upright.

Keftenk was enveloped now in an aura of fiery red and orange. Guttler’s rage had peaked. With his eagle eyes, Bongo could see there was nothing left of the insane man they had encountered behind Keftenk’s gaze. He was a puppet on Guttler’s strings, and the ax wanted nothing more than to see North dead. The force of the ax’s rage was so powerful that it began getting hotter throughout the entire area. Still, North stood, keeping a hand on his wound, facing down his own weapon.

“Come try to finish me,” he ordered, as if talking to a small child, “try, and fail again.”

Guttler’s indescribable roar burst from Keftenk’s lips, and the duo surged towards North with the full intent of killing him once and for all.

North’s free hand came up so fast that not even Bongo saw him move. Guttler crashed down ineffectually as the Elvaan’s strange killer club sprung to his defense, capturing the silver and black ax directly beneath the crook of its blade. A grunt of surprise escaped Keftenk’s lips as the panting North stared at him.

“You failed, Guttler,” North tightened his grip on his club, even as his abdomen glistened in the sun with wet blood leaking down from his chest. “You’re nothing without me.”

The other Beastmaster growled, a deep and frightening movement from the back of his throat, rising out of Guttler’s projected rage. The aura enveloping him flared, and even from fifty paces back Bongo felt the heat of the ax’s rage wash over him. He could see North sweating, ivory teeth grinding down as his muscles strained to stay upright. Blood pooled at his feet, staining the sands crimson. Even with both hands gripped around its handle, he was struggling to keep the club from shaking as Guttler bore down upon it.

“Burn you, break you, kill you,” Guttler snarled malevolently. Keftenk’s eyes were now pools of red, completely overcome by the fury of his weapon. In the haze of rage, smoke began rising from his body as the sand at his feet began to harden, glazing into glass beneath Keftenk’s dirty bare feet. North sank tremulously down to a single knee, his head bowed as he held the club Guttler now seemed determined to break in half.

“Never . . .work,” North swallowed his own blood, feeling the strength leaving his body, “you’re . . . too weak.” Defiance flashed in his eyes, and the Elvaan leveled a gaze up at the ax crushing down on him. “Without a real Beastmaster to hold you, you’ll never be anything but a weak, useless tool!”

“HATE!” Guttler screamed, and a fresh wave of heat swept across Bongo. Even Aspidochelone cried out, struggling to break free from the shadow holding it down.

The scent of burning flesh struck Bongo’s nostrils, and he gave a shudder of revulsion.

A sound burst out of Keftenk’s lips. A dry, desperate gasp escaped him. He took his eyes off of North, raising them instead to stare blankly at nothing, mouth agape. Beneath him, North tore his club free, rolling out of the way of Guttler’s crushing blow. The strike never came. Keftenk stood frozen in place, heaving and choking as Guttler’s red aura encompassed his bloodied flesh.

“N – n – “ he tried to say, but the words would not form.

Imperiously, North stood up. He stumbled once, bracing himself against his kraken club, but then reared to his full height. The blood on his chest had dried from contact with Guttler’s intense heat, leaving his entire torso a sickenining rust color. He clutched at his wound, not taking his eyes from the struggling Beastmaster before him.

“I warned you,” the Elvaan intoned, “both of you. You could never work together.” Keftenk was sinking to his knees. Smoke was pouring from his flesh as Guttler shrieked incomprehensibly, furious, guttural shrieks with incomprehensible lust for blood. Keftenk was trying to pry the weapon from his own fingers, but the hilt had been burned into his flesh. The heat around him was so great that his skin was beginning to pop and sizzle.

North gave him one final glance, and then lowered his eyes with a somber shake of his head. “Too weak,” he said again.

Keftenk gave a silent scream, lost to the heat stealing his breath before he burst into flames.

He sputtered like a candle as fire enveloped him. Skin and bone melted like wax, hands twisted into desperate pleading falling away to naught more than charred stains in the sand. Keftenk twisted and writhed, collapsing now to his back in a convulsive fit. His eyes had boiled in their sockets and his mouth hung open, the muscles which worked it no longer functioning. North kept his distance, drawing ragged breath as he observed the tortuous affair.

The ruined remains of Keftenk gave a final, definitive flash, and then a cloud of acrid smoke filled the air. All that remained of the rogue Beastmaster was a pile of ash quickly mixing with the sands, to vanish forever into the Valley of Sorrows.

Bongo was so transfixed by the turn of events that he failed to realize his Shadowbind had been broken until he felt the breath of Aspidochelone upon him.

With an angry roar, the notorious monster lunged. Bongo was struck full on by its massive skull, sending him sailing through the air. He skidded on his back for several feet after touching the ground, the wind driven from his lungs. Pawing about desperately for his bow, he found only sand as his eyes darted to the hulking form bearing down upon him. Aspidochelone reared its forelegs terrifyingly, coming down to crush the Ranger beneath its incalculable tonnage.

The Valley of Sorrows quaked as Aspidochelone crashed its full weight down to the ground, a wall of sand bursting out in all directions upon the epicenter of its impact.

Bongo opened his eyes, gaping at the tree-trunk appendages on either side of his prone body. Aspidochelone’s massive head was perched directly over him. The creature looked down at him, its wet breath steaming in the air as it regarded the helpless Hume beneath it.

A hundred paces away, atop the detritus which had once been Keftenk, North raised Guttler high. A burning blue aura engulfed the axe and its rightful owner. Unlike the raging red inferno which had burned away Keftenk, this glow was steady, concentrated, and calm. Blue light escaped from behind North’s eyes as he held the weapon in the air, its black and silver mass gleaming in the desert sun. The club he used was now slung at his side, and his free hand was covering the still-bleeding wound Guttler had inflicted upon him. November was rushing to his side, even as he stared out across the sands at the mighty Aspidochelone.

“Do no more harm, Aspidochelone.” North said, and his voice boomed throughout the entire Valley. “Return to your sleep.”

From above Bongo, the colossal tortoise let out a low, reverberating growl. Then, the sands shifting around it, the island-like monster turned away from the Ranger. Slowly, cautiously watching Aspidochelone stomp away, Bongo stood. His limbs felt weak, but he managed to make it to his feet. Brushing a leather-gloved hand through his ink-black hair, he swept a gaze across the battlefield.

Luma was on her knees, hands clutching her great katana’s hilt, the blade plunged into the sand. Her head was down, and save for the occasional breathless laugh, she said nothing. Some distance away, Hubby sat barely propped up against a rock. His own weapon was several feet from him, but he made no move towards it. The powerful Samurai had given his all to fight such an epic foe, and it was all he could do now to stay conscious.

Beyond them, Qwid was perched over Dantrag. The Tarutaru had his hands on the Warrior’s chest, and a white glow encompassed his body. His silver-haired patient drew a ragged breath, fingers clenching in the sand as Qwid fought to save him from Guttler’s onslaught.

And then, past them all, standing tall, was North. The sun was at his back and Guttler in his hand. The Elvaan looked pale from blood loss, but his gaze was steady, eyes locked on Bongo in that unfailingly regal manner which had so often before made him want to throttle the man.

Today though, as he stood triumphant, opponent reduced to ashes and his treasure reclaimed, one of the great beasts of Vana’diel tamed by his hand, Bongo saw something he never had before. He was not looking at any ordinary man. The Labyrinth of Onzozo might not have been a proper kingdom, but there was no doubt North was in every aspect a king.

The Beastmaster king held his treasure high. Now, it was time to go home.

Chapter LXV: Shell Game

North took a deep breath, eyes hooded as his muscles went taut.

"So we're playing that game," the Beastmaster murmured, watching the Adamantoise herd advance on him.

Bongo nocked an arrow, a glare reflecting off the flawless steel point. The lumbering monsters would be upon them in moments. The sheer scope of their size was staggering. The Ranger had seen fully-grown wyverns not as large as the Adamantoise. Each of their innumerable scales looked thicker than plate mail, and the massive legs which carried them wide as tree trunks. The tortoises bellowed an angry, threatening cry as they came forward, reptillian eyes flashing red. It was the same color as the ruddy mist rising off of the gleaming axe in Keftenk's hand.

The other Beastmaster was grinning insanely, his tongue lolling out as he basked in the power of his stolen weapon. His shabby, blood-stained furs were ill-fitting over his wiry frame. This Keftenk character, Bongo observed, was the near opposite of North. The Elvaan stood straight backed, arms crossed, while Keftenk was hunched over, arms drooping at his side like an ape. His hair was wild and shaggy, face unshaven, clothes soiled and ragged, as opposed to North, with his meticulously well-groomed appearance and pristine garb. Where North was a stalwart bastion of unnerving calm, Keftenk was the picture of insanity. One stood broad and stocky, the other lean and tall. Bongo surmised the two were destined to battle it out the moment they were born. His rotten luck just caught him in the middle of it.

The Adamantoise were practically on top of them when a hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his bow down. He turned sharply, and anger flared when he saw November holding him back.

"Let go!" He demanded, shaking the Summoner off.

"Hold your fire!" She hissed back at him, swinging her arm out. "Look!"

Violently, November shoved Bongo's arm, forcing him back around. The Ranger resisted, then stopped when he caught a glimpse of North.

The air around the Beastmaster was crackling with raw energy as it rose from his skin. North's eyes had gone steely white as he bared his teeth at the wall of Adamantoise. The furs coating his leather armor were curling in the heat rising from him. The air around him was shimmering, and his muscles bulged as he stood before the advancing monsters. A shout burst out from his throat as he threw his arms upwards. There came a roar of raw power as a wave of North's chi swept across the Adamantoise pack, washing across them with a fury that made Keftenk howl in protest, shielding himself with his arms as it struck.

North's roar trailed off with a fading growl. His shoulders heaved as he breathed out, staring hard at the titanic beasts. They all glared back at him, red-glowing eyes focused intently on the regal Elvaan. North met their eyes, scanning the massive turtles with a deadly intensity. They began to cry out again, their haunting and ancient song rising from one to the next, sand spraying up from the ground as they stomped their tree-trunk limbs. One of them shook its house-like shell, emitting a cloud of dust and debris, and sending a number of tiny birds flying off in a panic.

The lead Adamantoise gave a snort, steam bursting forth from its nostrils. Bucking up on its hind legs, the monster reared to an astonishing height. The sun became an intense blot behind the Adamantoise as it stood up over North, fit to crush him. Then, twisting its gargantuan bulk sideways, the monster turned around, crashing down to the ground, back facing North. Emitting a series of low grunts, it began lumbering away, and when it briefly swung its neck to the side, Bongo could see the glow had faded from its eyes.

One by one, the Adamantoise began to shake off the effects of Keftenk's charm, overpowered by North. The Beastmaster stood facing the herd, stony faced as they began breaking off. They milled about where they stood, confused, glowering left and right before giving a grunt of disinterest the likes of which only hundreds of years in Vana'diel could spawn. The entire herd, over a dozen strong, strayed from where Keftenk had directed them, returning to their wanderings of the Valley of Sorrows.

"No!" Keftenk snarled, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth. "No no no no no no no no no no!"

North exhaled slowly, directing his gaze at the raving lunatic. "Now drop Guttler and leave. I'm still willing to forget this ever happened."

The other Beastmaster brought up Guttler. The silver axe emitted a noise as if it were fiercely gnashing feral teeth. Bongo raised his bow, and in the blink of an eye had an arrow in the air. Keftenk's arm jerked sideways, seemingly of its own accord, and Guttler smashed down on the ground with a crushing blow. The shockwave from its strike made Bongo's arrow splinter and shatter in the air, the pieces falling harmlessly to the ground. The Ranger was already reloading, but Keftenk swung the axe up again. A bloom of red appeared around the blade, electric force crackling off of it. Guttler howled with bloodlust, a cry mirrored by its wielder.

A bolt of the energy rising from Guttler struck one of the Adamantoise. Almost instantly, it swung its head back around towards North, opening its cavernous mouth as its eyes burned a brilliant and baleful red. North grimaced, and lanced a burst of his own chi into the monster as it began charging. His energy was dispelled almost immediately. With an oath shouted in surprise, the Elvaan leaped clear of the rock upon which he stood. A moment later the gargantuan turtle smashed into it, turning and roaring as its eyes followed the nimble Beastmaster.

"I can't break it like this," North growled, bringing his club up in defense. He snapped his head towards the others, giving them the briefest of appraisals.

"You'll have to weaken it before I can set it free," he told them, leaping to his feet. "I'll keep Keftenk distracted. Get to work."

"You must be kidding," Hubby sighed, giving a flat stare at the monstrosity before them. He gave a heavy sigh, hefting his great katana into position.

Luma laughed, drawing out her own weapon and crouching down. Even as she did, North turned, eyes locking onto Keftenk. Guttler was burning red, matching the color blazing from the Adamatoise's gaze. Bongo realized that as opposed to spreading his control out to over a dozen of the monsters, the other Beastmaster was now focused specifically on this one looming over North. It stomped the ground where the Elvaan stood, and he had to leap frantically to the side to avoid being crushed. It was focused entirely on him, as, Bongo noted, was Keftenk.

"It doesn't see us yet," Bongo shouted to the others, bringing up his bow. "November, call out that old son of a bitch Ramuh and get ready, we're going to do something."

The Summoner's eyes flashed. "Ramuh the Olduum will be addressed with the reverence due, and furthermore, as this territory lies closest to the realms of Garuda and Titan, you would do well to - "

Bongo didn't wait for her to finish. Instead, he did what he'd been waiting weeks to do, and grabbed the raven-haired Summoner by her slim wrist, holding her arm up over her head. The Ranger was almost a solid foot taller than she was, and her slim figure would be completely invisible were he to stand in front of her. "You listen to me, missy," steel was in his voice and his eyes, "I've followed that sweet can of yours around for all this time because it's a treat to walk behind you. Now that we're actually in combat? Your stuck up "king's" life on the line? You're going to do everything I say and you're going to do it with a smile on your face, understand me?" He released her arm, and she stared up at him incredulously. "Get the old guy ready and hang on, this is gonna get loud."

She sputtered something in defiance, but he was already moving on. "Dantrag buddy, you keep an eye on Keftenk. That's a bad ass axe, I'll admit, but you're no slouch yourself." The Elvaan nodded, hefting the bulky weapons he bore in each hand. "Qwid," he turned to the Red Mage, "you're our back-up. Throw whatever will stick over that turtle to make sure we hit it, and be ready when this goes off to help out November." Finally, his gaze settled on the two Samurai. Luma fingered the hilt of her great katana impatiently, already bouncing up and down in place with anticipation.

"Alright you two," he slung his bow down over his shoulder, nocking an arrow in place as he gave them a nod. "Set me up."

Hubby clapped a hand over Bongo's shoulder, giving him a grim smirk. "Whatever anyone else says about you, Demyn," he said, using Bongo's battle honorific, "we can always count on you in times like this."

Bongo smiled appreciatively as the Samurai released his grip and walked past him, then spun around. "Hey, wait a minute," he shouted, "what do people say about me?" But the Samurai was already leaping down from the tunnel where they stood, drawing in close to the Adamantoise.

North was darting back and forth, playing cat-and-mouse with the monster. Keftenk laughed with malevolent glee as the Adamantoise chased him through the sand, slowly forcing him towards a rocky cliff wall which would trap him. The Beastmaster broke right, making a dash for Keftenk himself, but the tortoise bellowed, and a spray of water flew from its maw with force enough to pierce flesh. North froze, flipping backwards to avoid the breath attack. The monster followed him, saturating the ground with its aqueous haze. Trudging through the deep sand as best he could, North ran from the beast.

Bongo had seen North fight. He had fought him personally. He knew the Beastmaster was faster and more fearless than he was letting on. North was trying to keep Keftenk's attention focused exclusively on him. He was giving them an opening.

The dust at Bongo's feet stirred as he began gathering his chi and focusing it into the point of his bow. His eyes narrowed as the tip of the arrow he had drawn back starting glowing hot. The details of the world around him came into sharp clarity. He could make out each individual grain of sand sweeping across the Valley of Sorrows, every rock on the ground of the tunnel he stood in. He could see the feathers of a bird flying off in the distance rippling as the wind sifted through them. His gaze settled on the Adamantoise, driven into a rage by Keftenk. He saw the nicks in the edge of Hubby's katana as the Samurai rushed towards his target. The Adamantoise itself has a shell he could see each line and groove of, every divot and care the years had worn into it.

Hubby's feet kicked up sand behind him as he drew his arm back. Bongo could see the chi rise from Hubby's core and flare into his arms. He made out the veins in the Samurai's arms as they pulsed with power, blood surging through them as he drew back the great katana he held. With a burst of speed, he charged out ahead of Luma, and the air crackled around him as he thrust his weapon forward.

The Adamantoise barely noticed as the blade made contact, even as an explosion of chi crystallized the air around it. Hubby pulled back, his Tachi: Yukikaze manuever finishing the first part of their assault. Now it was Luma's turn.

Gripping the curved great katana she wielded firmly in both hands, the Mithra leaped forward, spinning in the air. Her blade caught the sun, reflecting brilliantly as she released her chi through the tip. It screeched as it scraped along the Adamantoise's shell, and the rush of Luma's chi collided with the remnants of Hubby's. The release of the Mithra's power left a moon-shaped image in the air as a ring of chi burst from around her body.

The combining flows of energy, slamming together violently in the air, created an outward burst, sending a visible fragmentation of power exploding off of the Adamantoise's shell. The monster now turned, its attention shaken. North skidded to a halt, turning towards Keftenk. The other Beastmaster realized his situation, and furiously swung Guttler in the air, commanding the Adamantoise to obey him.

Bongo felt the tingle of electricity in the air as Ramuh's shadow fell over him. He looked down briefly at Qwid, the Tarutaru practically binding the monster in place with his magic. The Red Mage looked back up at Bongo, a crackle of lightning sparking from his fingertips, and nodded. The Ranger peered out over the tip of his arrow, now almost blinding with the power being focused into it, and saw the exact point where Hubby and Luma's energies combined. Clenching his jaw, he released.

The air itself was cut as Bongo's arrow arched across the Valley of Sorrows. There was an almost inaudible clink as the Ranger's arrow tapped harmlessly against the turtle's shell.

And then, a shimmering sphere of three combined chakras flared to life, shaming the sun with its brilliance. The Adamantoise gave a bellow as the intense energy, far greater than the sum of its parts, showered down upon it. The other tortoises in the Valley began rapidly moving away, their panicked song filling the air. Keftenk was shouting something that couldn't be heard over their calls. The malevolent sphere of Guttler's power, however, still rose the hackles on the back of Bongo's neck.

So to then, did the spark of thunder which rained down from the heavens at the command of Ramuh, guided by November's hand.

Magic combined with the chi thick in the air, and the ground burst open at the feet of the Adamantoise. Sand flew up into the air in a great wave, sweeping across the Valley of Sorrows and crashing down in front of Bongo. He shielded himself as best he could, feeling the sting as the sand tore across his flesh. Qwid through up a protective ward, keeping them safe as best he could as the sea of sand sprayed across them. Luma and Hubby crouched together against a cliff wall as the sand swept over them. The howl of the Adamantoise was lost in the deafening boom of the explosion the combined assaults birthed into existance.

Finally, the sweeping waves of sand subsided. Bongo slowly dropped his arms down, blinking against the fading residual energy hanging in the air. Then he quickly shielded his eyes as a glare pierced his vision.

The sand where the Adamantoise stood had been fused together into a solid sheet of glass, glittering in the high sun raining down upon it. A reflective shine made it blinding, and Bongo could just barely make out the silouhette of the enormous beast now lying on its stomach in the middle of the scene. The Adamantoise was down.

Wings rapidly beating filled the air, and Bongo looked up quickly to see North, standing steadily upon the back of Panzer Galahad as it descended from the sky. The Beastmaster leaped down without hesitation, landing directly upon the glazed sheet of sand. A cascade of fissures burst open as he did, splintering the glass and sending reflections of light shooting off in every direction. North laid a hand upon the Adamantoise, its breathing dry and ragged. Its eyes darted to him as he touched its shell, and he Bongo could see him whispering to it as Galahad touched down at his side, hissing threateningly at Keftenk.

Guttler was glowing blood-red, and Keftenk leveled the axe at the monster. Bongo could tell he was preparing to charm it again, siezing control and making the monster fight to the death if need be. He stared at North, licking his lips as the Beastmaster stood by the Adamantoise.

He then gave an exclamation of surprise as Guttler jerked almost out of his hands, pulling him sideways. There was a clash of metal and a shower of sparks, and another axe ricocheted off the cliff behind Keftenk, deflected by Guttler. Bongo turned and saw Dantrag, arm still extended, preparing to throw his second axe Keftenk's way. The Beastmaster's eyes shot back and forth amongst the others whose existance he had barely registered before, realizing his peril. He then quickly turned back to the Adamantoise, remembering North was there, with his charmed monster.

The Adamantoise's eyes showed not a trace of red. North's gaze was hard enough to make Keftenk's knees quake as it fell upon him.

"You can't, you can't, you can't!" he shouted, flailing wildly. "Guttler is mine!"

"Let him go, Guttler," North said, addressing the axe directly. "I have need of you once more. Do not try my patience."

The axe growled, snarling at the Beastmaster. Keftenk gripped it in both hands, holding on to it with no intent to let go. North swung his club towards the axe, white eyebrows knitting together.

"This is your final warning, Guttler," North snapped, "come with me."

"I control Guttler!" Keftenk roared, smashing the axe on the ground. A wave of energy sliced through the air where he swung, sweeping across the desert sands. North sidestepped it with a sigh, even as Bongo leaped aside in surprise as the wall beside him burst apart upon impact. The Ranger grabbed for an arrow, hurriedly trying to get a shot off, but North stepped in his line of fire.

"You can't handle Guttler, whelp," North spat out disdainfully. "It found you, fool, because it knew you would be easy to manipulate. Now hand it over. It belongs to me."

Keftenk stared with unadulterated hatred at the Beastmaster, cradling Guttler to him like a child. "Never, never, never!" he moaned. North took a step forward, and Keftenk reared back, hissing like a wildcat.

"Guttler wants blood," Keftenk growled, "I will give Guttler blood! Blood to drink! Oceans of blood!" Bongo heard Guttler's voice clearly in Keftenk's words. North was right. The hand that held the axe was not the one which controlled it.

Without warning, Guttler swung down, sinking into the sand. North paused, assuming a defensive stance, but after a moment had passed, nothing happened. Keftenk stood with his arm sunk up to the wrist in sand, Guttler completely buried beneath. His eyes were downcast, and he breathed heavily, as if overcome with exertion. North took another step towards him, extending his hand to take Guttler away.

November shrieked as an eruption of black and red lightning blew up from the ground at North's feet. The Beastmaster was blown back through the air, coming down yards away in the sand, flat on his back. The Summoner ran to his side, even as a ring of Guttler's energy started tearing apart the ground beneath them.

"I've got to getaru to Hubby and Luma!" Qwid called out, breaking free from the tunnel. The Tarutaru darted out as the air darkened with Guttler's power, casting his hands forward. A silver sheen of protective force crystalized over the two Samurai, desperately shielding themselves from the onslaught as Qwid came to their side.

Bongo and Dantrag stood in shocked silence as the ground burst upwards. Both Ranger and Warrior lowered their weapons, raising their heads up in the air.

Shaking off sand that fell from it in waterfalls, lifting up a head the size of a house towards the sky, another Adamantoise rose from beneath the sand. An Adamantoise ten times bigger than the others had been, like a sleeping island stirred from slumber. It gave a bellow that shook Bongo's bones, bubbles of stored water dripping down from a cavernous mouth large enough to swallow a man whole. The shell on its back was thicker than the ramparts of Bastok. It stood before Bongo and Dantrag, turning its head to one side and then another, searching out surroundings it had slumbered beneath for untold centuries.

"Guttler," Keftenk's lips moved, but the beastial voice of the axe came from his throat, "will drown the world in blood."

The eyes of the legendary Aspidochelone fell upon Bongo, and they were glowing a fierce and evil shade of red.

Chapter LXIV: The Madman and the Axe

Light struck Bongo's eyes unexpectedly, and he raised a hand over his brow as he stepped into the sun. Qwid grumbled as he shoved past, pulling his hat down low and trying to gain his bearings. Bongo let the Tarutaru pass, his acute vision already adjusting to the glare. Formless masses of darkness at his side quickly coalesced into his allies as he blinked the spots away, taking a quick look around to make sure everyone was with them.

Hubby was emerging from the mouth of the cave directly behind him, running a hand through his dark hair while the other rested upon the hilt of his great katana. Luma was already ahead of them, and the Mithra darted from one rock face to the next, dropping out of view one moment and popping back up the next. She appeared much like someone playing a game of hide-and-seek, only she was the only one playing. A moment later and Dantrag appeared at Bongo's side, his taut Elvaan features drawn even tighter as he surveyed the sand-swept landscape. His shaggy gray hair was matted against his head with dirt and sweat. It had not been an easy road they had traveled to reach their destination.

Standing out in front of them all, ignoring the others, were North and November. The imperious Elvaan Beastmaster looked grim as he stood with powerful arms folded over his chest. Already, he had drawn his ensorcelled club, flecks of black blood from their encounters still encrusting its metallic surface. Though he held it loosely, Bongo knew from experience that he would wield it like lightning when given reason. The white pelts lining his leather armor blew in the same wind which stirred the sands around them. November, her raven locks tied tightly behind her head as she gave a severe gaze across the landscape, clutched her black-and-white robes tightly as they were whipped about her slender frame. Neither of them appeared happy at all, but even that was a dramatic improvement over their mood some weeks before, when they had reached the summit of the Boyahda Tree.

Bongo remembered still the serenity of the Sanctuary of Zi'Tah. At the foot of the Meriphataud Mountains, the sea of trees stretched out to the edges of the Mindartian continent. It was ancient and pure, a place of solitude. Besides a few nomadic bands of Goblins, no one lived there. Even the monsters which called Zi'Tah home, from the tiny leeches which crawled along the damp, loamy ground to the massive golems, towering ten or more feet in the air yet moving lightly through the trees, left outsiders alone if not disturbed. Every blade of grass, every inch of moss, every outstretched branch and insect humming through the air seemed to be at peace. Bongo drew an inward breath at the recollection. For a Ranger, a place of such natural harmony in nature was indeed nothing less than a sanctuary.

In that forest of solitude, one landmark stood out above all others. The foundation of the woods, the heart of Zi'Tah. Some said that the entire forest was but an offshoot of it, and that the roots were all connected deep underground. Others speculated that it had grown as a result of the remarkable magic in the soil, beginning as an ordinary sapling and transforming into the monument it stood as today. Whatever the case, the Boyahda Tree was undeniably the center of Zi'Tah. Taller than the Great Star Tree of Windurst, as great in size as the city of Bastok, and as proud and strong as the walls of San d'Oria, the Boyahda Tree was unmatched in nature or buildings of man. It had been North's intention to climb to the very top, where he claimed an invincible guardian under his command stood vigil over a treasure greater than they could imagine.

And climb they had. The tree had hollows one could enter like massive gateways, and within were tunnels reaching high into the air and deep below the ground. Boyahda's interior was a mystifying collection of enormous clearings large enough to plant an entirely new forest in and tunnels so tight they had to walk single-file to make it through, while crouching so as not to scrape their heads. Whatever kept the monsters peaceful outside had no power within the tree itself, and more than once the party found themselves on the receiving end of an attack. The tree was home to a number of aggressive beasts lurking around its natural springs and lakes. Some, such as the fat, yellow crawlers which wormed their way through the tree or the steel-shelled crabs wading in crystal-clear water, North simply turned away with a glance or dismissive order. Others, like the hulking Goobbues and malevolent Morbols had no such compunctions about following the Beastmaster's orders. Those had been fearsome encounters indeed.

Finally, they had reached the peak, the highest point of Boyahda scalable by normal means. A tunnel overgrown with branches stretching up far into the darkness revealed the tree actually went quite a bit further up. However, after North had curtly commanded a few roaming giant spiders out of their way, they reached a clearing as peaceful and serene as any part of Zi'Tah. The ground was soft and moist beneath Bongo's boots, irrigated by the eternally flowing springs which ran through the entirety of the tree. Two waterfalls poured out from the walls, forming small pools along the sides of which delicate and elegant flowers blossomed. The cavern was crisscrossed with branches and vines stemming from the innumerable growths of vegetation which had formed within the tree itself. In the middle of the scene, a group of green-carapaced damselflies darted back and forth languidly, tilting their heads and blinking multi-faceted red eyes at the newcomers, but then returning to their lazy drifting. It was a scene of utmost tranquility.

Torn apart moments later by North's rage.

Apparently, the cavern was supposed to be home to a dragon North had set to guard his treasure, a weapon of magnificent power. When arrival revealed neither wyrm nor weapon, the Beastmaster was quite inconsolable. He would listen to no one, not even November, as he ruthlessly tore through the tree. His club was a blur as he drove the monsters of Boyahda out before him, snarling like an animal himself as he unleashed his fury on the denizens of the tree. Bongo and the others kept a safe distance as North shouted continually at the air, a cacophony of howls and hisses meeting his cries. For hours, the Elvaan from Onzozo rampaged through the tree. The scenario concluded in one of the more bizarre scenes Bongo had ever borne witness to.

They found him some time later, furs wet with Boyahda spring water, club at his side. His expression was intent as he stared down at a rabbit, one of the many wild hares that fed on the plentiful plant life thriving within the tree. The creature, no higher than the ankle-deep water North was standing in, had his rapt attention. North gesticulated at it wildly, to which it shook its whiskers and stomped repeatedly on the ground. Whatever language the Beastmaster spoke in, it was none Bongo recognized, but each time he said something the rabbit responded with more gestures and excited hopping. The entire group, save November, shared worried glances with one another as North held his extended conference with the rabbit.

Finally, he turned away, the hare bounding off as well. North walked back towards the others, still seething, but cooled enough to converse in a normal tongue.

"That rabbit's name is Unut, he says he is the leader of the hares here." The Beastmaster was breathing hard from his exertions, and veins throbbed in his chest and arms beneath the fur-lined armor covering his stocky frame. "The dragon left," he spat out with contempt, "and took his treasure with him."

"He betrayed you?" November accused, shocked.

North shook his head. "Called away, Unut said. But," his eyes narrowed, and his lips curled back to reveal teeth clenched to the point of breaking, "he says that before the dragon left, someone snuck in and took my weapon. Someone. Took. My. Weapon." The self-proclaimed monarch of the Labyrinth of Onzozo spat the words out with venom dripping from each syllable.

"What do we do now?" Dantrag asked. North and November both turned to look at him, appearing surprised and angry that he was still here. North gave him a withering stare, then turned back to November.

"Unut gave me a general direction to follow," he was already preparing to leave, "we head back west and pick up the trail." Casting a cursory glance at the others, he imperiously snapped his fingers as he started walking away. "Follow," he commanded. After Hubby talked Bongo into lowering the arrow he had pointed at the back of North's head, they all reluctantly obeyed.

So west they had traveled. Back through the Sanctuary of Zi'Tah and the Meriphataud Mountains, into the Sauromugue Champaign and stealthily past the fringes of demon-ruled Jeuno into the majestic beauty of Rolanberry Fields. As days turned to weeks, they continued trekking ever westward, North stopping only to catch a fleeting few hours sleep or question groups of wandering beasts. The same monsters would catch up to them by North's command as they traveled, bringing them food and drink so they would not have to stop and forage. They crossed the windy hills of Batallia Downs, and then slowed to a crawl through Jugner Forest. The Orcs were out in force, practically littering the deep woods with their presence. They would spend hours silent and still as columns of Orc soldiers formed and marched out to points unknown. The cause of their formation was a mystery, but they all could guess. The Orcs were working with the demons.

Finally, days after they had entered, they emerged into the La Thiene Plateau. From there, the trail of North's weapon grew hot. He immediately steered them south, past the verdant hills and granite peaks rising on San d'Oria's southern border. They continued walking day after day until the air turned hot and the grass gave way to sand. Valkurm Dunes came into sight, and the ever-darkening sky was practically pitch-black overhead. The Dunes were firmly in the realm of Dynamis. Nightmarish creatures roamed the beaches, monsters Bongo could not feel with his connection to nature. He knew the reason easily enough. These monsters were not part of any world he was attuned to. North scowled at the sight of them as they kept a careful distance. He made no secret his disgust at their existance. Ever onward they pressed, until at last they came to the Gustav Tunnel.

"How can you be sure?" Bongo demanded as they entered the sprawling series of caves. "There wasn't anything in the Dunes you could talk to."

"Because I can feel it," North growled, not turning back to face Bongo. "It came through here less than a day ago."

Thus the final leg on their long journey began. Gustav Tunnel was one of only two ways by land to reach Zepwell Island, and by far the least preferable. In contrast to Bastok's largely pacified land route, Gustav was controlled by a Goblin horde famous for its fearsome territorialism. They made no exceptions for seven weary adventurers. The last hours of their trek were marked by intense moments of stealth where they may have been discovered at any moment, and then times when they were, and had to battle through Goblins or other creatures to survive. Oftentimes the creatures ended up fighting on their side, but some monsters continued attacking even after North tried taming them.

Now, they finally emerged into the light of day, all the more shocking by its presence than its brilliance.

"No Dynamis here," Luma called out ahead of them, scouring the clear blue sky to try and find some hint of darkness. "Sunshine! Ha! Feels nice, doesn't it?"

"It does . . . " Bongo murmered, stepping out into it before bending over to catch his breath. His tanned jerkin was stained in Goblin blood, along with the remains of several other murderous beasts and, in some places, his own. Dantrag, his armor no less covered, sheathed his twin axes with relief.

"Look," Hubby pointed towards the horizon, back the way they had just came. Bongo turned towards where the Samurai gestured.

The far distant sky was dark as night, a shroud reaching out over the land and erasing any trace of light. Tendrils of darkness snaked out from the central growth, pushing out ever onwards, expanding and consuming, seeking to extinguish the day and bring about eternal eve. The small company all turned to see the phenomenon. It was far away now, so much so that one could imagine, or even hope, that it was just a trick of the light fading on the horizon, but they all knew better. The areas blighted by Dynamis the most were already robbed of daylight, and its influence was slowly but surely spreading throughout Vana'diel.

Bongo turned away. He had no desire at the moment to pursue such thoughts. He only took a deep breath of the fresh air, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of undiluted sunlight wash over him. He felt foolish for having ever taken it for granted. After a deep, cleansing breath, the Ranger focused his keen eyes on the Elvaan Beastmaster in the distance. North was focused like a beacon, and for the first time in over a month, Bongo saw a smile on his lips.

"It's close," North said with restrained exultation. "It's in the Valley of Sorrows. There's no way out except back this way."

Bongo approached the Beastmaster, shielding his eyes against the sand swirling in the powerful northern wind. "Boxed in," he fingered the shaft of his bow, wrapping his hand around the grip. "So we wait for our thief to come out, and get the drop on him."

North shook his head. "You're thinking like a rational person. He isn't. Follow me."

The Beastmaster focused his unique energy into a concentrated sphere, which coalesced into the form of his insufferable beetle, Panzer Galahad. Bongo had gotten used to the Elvaan summoning the beast from nowhere, but had grown to dislike the creature even more in the weeks of their association. He wasn't even sure where the thing's face was, yet it always seemed to be looking down on him. Being condescended to by a beetle was not one of the things the archer easily tolerated.

"I hate that thing," Dantrag said at his side, giving voice to Bongo's thoughts. The gray-haired Warrior had drawn his twin axes. One was a wooden-handled weapon with a silver blade, the other a monstrous, jagged-edged axe wrapped thick in animal hides and cloth. There was another story altogether behind the Orc-forged implement and how it came to be in Dantrag's possession, but Bongo had no time to reminisce. North was already on the move.

"Hurry along," November commanded them. The air shifted around the Summoner as she began gathering her power. North and November were both seemingly certain this would end in conflict.

"We'll be right behind you, girl," Dantrag sounded quite exasperated with the whole ordeal, "we're just as eager as you are to be done with this and away from you."

The Summoner glanced askance at Dantrag as he spoke. "Why North felt he had to suffer you fools is beyond me . . . " she murmured, quite loud enough to be heard. Gathering her robes about her, she marched off through the shifting sands of Teriggan.

Bongo took a steadying breath. Never in his life had he been in the company of a pair so incessently infuriating. November barely spoke to them save to reiterate commands given by North, and commands were all he ever gave. He knew as little about the duo now as he had when they first met in Onzozo. The only thing he could be sure of was that North could indeed converse with the beasts as he claimed, so he could be held to the promise of utilizing them to find any of their friends that might still be alive.

And then there was the other promise they had elicited. He looked back at Hubby. The Samurai was shouldering his immense great katana, walking beside Qwid in muted conversation. After all was said and done, North had promised to use the animals to get a message across the sea to Jinxie, letting her know her husband was alive. Bongo knew the Hume had gone through more than one sleepless night worrying about his wife and child, whom he risked his life for to safeguard passage to Al Zahbi. He bore his anguish internally, never once letting it affect him in battle. Dantrag may have convinced him to live, but it had been that moment when Hubby appeared when Bongo truly began believing there was hope.

Then there was Luma. The Mithra was humming a Tshayan tune as she strode with a smile after North. They had learned perhaps just as little about her in the time since they had begun travelling together as they had either the Beastmaster or the Summoner. She was, however, much easier to get along with. Despite her constantly elated mood, the woman fought like a force of nature. Even in the heat of battle, she laughed and called out to the others with her thick Tshayan accent to enjoy themselves. She turned as Bongo looked at her, and flashed him a fanged grin, then resumed her carefree stroll. The Ranger definitely had no idea what to make of her.

"Haltaru," Qwid said, the Red Mage throwing out his arms. Hubby stopped beside him, and the others turned to look. Sniffing the air deeply, the Tarutaru's face scrunched into a glare of concentration. "There's something powerful lurking nearby." His tone was dark. "The air is growing thick with magic."

"Our friends stopped," Luma called out to them, gesturing towards the mouth of a rocky tunnel North and November had disappeared into. Bongo turned, peering through the sand being blown through the air to focus in on the Elvaan and Hume woman. He could make out both of them, stopped midway through the cave. North appeared angry.

"Let's go," Bongo felt the mood shifting dramatically. North and November were right, he knew. There was going to be a fight, and soon.

They found North with his fists clenched in fury. He said nothing, but anger was barely held in check on his reddening face. A vein throbbed in his neck as he ground his teeth. November had turned away, shaking her head in sorrow.

The tunnel which connected Cape Teriggan to the Valley of Sorrows was littered with the bodies of mutilated beasts. Parts of a manticore were strewn about the cavern walls. Dead raptors lay on the ground, savage wounds crawling with flies. A cockatrice was slumped over a rock, its head some feet away. The stone walls were wet with rabbit blood, their tiny, mangled forms scattered about like garbage. There were even a pair of Goblins huddled against the cave wall, both hacked practically in two. North's anger was enough to practically heat the air as he surveyed the carnage.

North snorted, muscles throbbing as his hands formed a vise around his club. Galahad quivered by his side, obviously affected by its masters' rage.

"The fool can't control it," the Elvaan glowered, his face twisting into a frightening, murderous visage. "We put an end to this, now."

Stepping through the gory remains, North emerged through the other side of the tunnel, and they followed him into the low circle of sand known as the Valley of Sorrows.

Instantly, Bongo was taken aback by what he felt. His bond with nature and the creatures of Vana'diel assaulted his mind. It took him several moments to process completely the sheer scope of what he was sensing. He knew what they were right away from travelers' tales and Bard songs, but had never seen one, or felt its majestic, ancient presence, in person. It was breathtaking.

Not far off, he could make them out. Like hills that moved, covered in vegetation which had grown over shells thicker than ship hulls. Hundreds of years old, some even thousands, Bongo could feel their quiet, controlled might like a vast lake in the middle of a desert. In all of Vana'diel, there existed no greater group of Adamantoise than the one which made the Valley of Sorrows its home. The ancient tortoises craned up necks which reached twice as high as any man, the peaks of their mighty shells cresting nearly twice that again. Birds had settled down on their shells, living on the grass and moss which had taken hold and birthed tiny ecosystems on the tremendous turtles.

They were awesome to behold. Every member of their party stopped to admire the Adamantoise herd as they slowly shuffled through the Valley of Sorrows.

Everyone but North.

His eyes were focused in the middle of the pack. There was a man standing amongst the Adamantoise, appearing almost a shade with the sun at his back, meeting North's gaze with a crazed and burning stare.

The man's skin and hair were stained red. His garment was a sick mockery of North's, half-skinned animal pelts draped over his massive torso bloodied and dirtied in contrast to the Elvaan's snowy white. His eyes peered out from beneath the severed head of a tiger, roughly crafted into a fanged helmet. The man twitched, and a blood-stained smile curled his lips as he met North's eyes with an insane fervor.

"It's mine now, North," he shouted as the Adamantoise herd shifted around him. "I am the master! Me!"

His voice was high-pitched, almost a squeal. As he spoke, he swung his arm forward, displaying an axe like a trophy. Qwid gasped at the sight of it, and Luma immediately drew her weapon with a hiss. Bongo could feel it, too. The weapon the other man held, gleaming in the light, was emanating malevolent force powerful enough to feel even from the distance between them. It was silver and black, curved wickedly for cleaving. He held it in one hand, and Bongo noticed that even though his arm was soaked in blood, the hand which held the axe was clean and dry.

"We meet again," North said with contempt, "but you will find quickly I am still your master."

"I am the master!" the man shrieked, swinging the axe wildly. "I am! I am! I am!"

"I wasn't talking to you, Keftenk," the Beastmaster spat out acidly, "I was talking to Guttler."

Bongo and Dantrag shared a confused look, quickly scanning the valley for anyone else present.

Then they heard its voice.

"Guttler . . . " it was low and guttural, deep as a canyon and fearsome as an Elder Wyrm. There was a terrible thirst in the voice, an unrestrained craving borne of greed and gluttony. "Guttler . . . want . . . blood. Give . . Guttler . . .blood! More blood!"

The axe was speaking. Guttler, which Bongo could only assume was the treasure North was after, was an axe with a mind, and evidently hungers and desires all its own. The man North identified as Keftenk howled like an animal, swinging the axe at nothing. "It will drink your blood, North! Then you'll see! I am the master! I! Am! The! Master!"

North stepped forward, his rage focused into an eerie calm. Galahad and November came to his side, and the others took cue.

"You've already snapped," North growled, raising his killer club. "You're a rabid beast that needs to be put down."

Keftenk screamed in rage, and a flash of red enveloped him like an aura. He brought the axe down, and Bongo shouted a curse as the ground shook beneath him. The Adamantoise called out in surprise as the Valley of Sorrows quivered beneath the power of Guttler's strike. The sand around the group sprayed up like a wave, and they quickly brought up their arms to shield themselves from the onslaught. Bongo had never felt such terrible power.

North stood where he had been, a cold grimace etched in his features.

"Enough showing off," he said, looking at the axe. "Time to come home."

Keftenk brought the axe forward. His arms shook with anticipation as a smile split his face. A dull, ruddy glow was rising off of his bloodied flesh. Bongo heard Dantrag gasp at his side, and suddenly Qwid was standing in front of him, weaving protective wards as fast as he could speak the incantations.

The Adamantoise, ancient beyond knowing, powerful beyond words, began turning around. Not having taken the time to count them beforehand, Bongo was suddenly keenly aware that there were at least a dozen of the monstrous turtles roaming the sands. And now, a dozen sets of reptillian eyes focusing in on the group of seven gathered at the entrance to the Valley.

North stood his ground as Keftenk let Guttler fall forward. The blade stopped leveled directly at the Beastmaster's heart. The glow enveloping Keftenk reached out across the Adamantoise herd, and like a moving wall, they began to advance, slowly, implacably.

Keftenk howled insanely as the pack closed in on North, and Guttler's malevolent growl was heard again.

"Guttler . . . will drink . . . your . . . blood."