Chapter 21: Fayth of a Child

Standing up on top of the mountain, Yunalesca lowered her enchanted binoculars and cast a nervous glance toward the elder ronso and her husband. "They're retreating and bringing in some of the wounded. Please, someone, help them." The high summoner's daughter had exhausted every aeon and silently cursed the fact that the Bevelle temple remained useless. She made a mental note to create more aeons somewhere—anywhere—if they survived this.

Elder Kinan commanded some of his ronso warriors to go downslope and aid the battle-weary survivors up the mountain pass to the village.

Chyuno was among the survivors found and carried on the back of a ronso. "Lady Yunalesca," he addressed her with a heart full of regret. "We ... we couldn't reach the temple. We couldn't even reach Bevelle. They had so many machina. We hardly fought any humans until the very end. We have failed Lord Yevon. We're so sorry."

The confidence she once felt was humbled as she watched the merciless slaughter in the grasslands, but she remained proud of Zanarkand's efforts. "I saw the whole thing, and our army was nothing less than valiant." She turned to her husband and the elder ronso. "If not for those ... damned machina! Warships and guns are bad enough, but how dare they send those inhuman, unmanned things against us!"

"Bevelle cowards!" Elder Kinan snarled. "Attack unarmed Zanarkand, then attack from afar. Ronso not let Bevelle into mountain pass or beyond it!" The ronso faced his mighty warriors. "Search plains for survivors! Watch for fiends. Keep fiends away from Gagazet. Keep Bevelle away from Gagazet," he added in a dark tone, cueing one group of ronso to head down into the grasslands and search the bodies left behind. He cued another group to the base of the rugged slopes as defenders. Then, Elder Kinan went a step further and sent another ronso group toward Zanarkand and assigned scouts for areas within the mountains. Bevelle would not make one move in their direction without the ronso knowing about it.

To Yunalesca, the idea of primitive beast-folk going up against technologically advanced warships seemed laughable at best. But the ronso had been gracious allies, and Zanarkand had no other cards left to play. She would not insult the elder by explaining his defenses were useless should Bevelle strike the final blow now. "I must tell my father at once," she told her husband and walked away.

Zaon grabbed her arm. "You're not going back to Zanarkand without me."

"You must stay and guard the refugees in the caverns." She glanced at the elder ronso and his few remaining tribesmen guarding the village. "You must help Elder Kinan keep Bevelle away from this place."

Zaon was a quiet man, but when it came to matters of protecting his summoner—his wife—he became quite bullish. "You are not going into that fiend infested place without me, especially now that you've exhausted your aeons. Assign another guardian here, and together we will speak to Lord Yevon."

"All who were capable of fighting were in that army," she reminded him. "We have nothing left!"

"You have refugees. And many of those refugees would willingly do whatever it takes to protect each other. If you have the strength, there might be a worthy soul among them." He gave her a desperate but meaningful stare.

Yunalesca understood what he meant and nodded in sad agreement. With a shiver, she asked Elder Kinan to escort them into the hidden caverns.

))((

Zanarkand's refugees crouched in cold, silent darkness somewhere in the recesses of Mt. Gagazet. They were uncomfortable sitting on stone, but the ronso gave them food and furs and made campfires to keep the vulnerable humans warm. All of them looked up expectantly as the summoner and her guardian entered the cavern. They wanted news of the war. Many had loved ones in the army sent to deal with Bevelle. But Yunalesca's and Zaon's expressions bore the sad news of their defeat without having to say a word. The refugees turned away in tears and sobs, finding support in each other's arms.

"The ronso are searching the battlefield for survivors," Yunalesca told them, wishing she could offer something more—something that would give them hope. Then again, that was why she was here. Her eyes scanned the strongest men and women first, but her attention eventually fell on the small boy she had taken under her wing during the long hike up the mountain. Softly, she approached him and crouched eye level where he sat. Touching her fingertips to his chin, she lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Your sister and her guardians have fallen in battle."

Bahamut's dark brown eyes welled at the news.

Yunalesca knew she should give the boy time to grieve, but there was no time to spare. "The army of Bevelle may be advancing toward us next. You have faithfully kept your promise to your sister. But does your heart still wish to defend your home?" she asked him. "Would you be willing to do something very brave to protect those who cannot protect themselves?"

A sob finally escaped his lips as tears trailed down his cold, red cheeks, but he nodded.

"Then, I have a very special assignment for you. Come." Taking his hand, she returned to their ronso guides. "I'll need a place where we can speak in private—where I will not be disturbed."

One ronso led her further down the winding tunnels into the mountain warrens and left the trio of humans in the back of a dark, bare cavern. Then, giving Zaon her torch, she left them to their business.

Yunalesca faced the child once more. "We would be honored if you were to become the guardian of the Bevelle temple, a position your sister could not accept because of her distraction with the blitzball player."

"Guardian of the Bevelle temple? Me? I don't know how to guard anyone. I'm not strong enough to do something like that."

"For this position, it doesn't matter how old or big or strong you are. What's important is your magic and wisdom … your faith. You are young, but I know another young one who guards the temple in Besaid and does a fine job of it because she has a capable and willing heart. I think you are capable. But … are you willing?" She could tell the boy was still full of doubt, but terribly sad thinking about the loss of his family and friends. "You won't have to shoulder all the tasks in the temple—only two. You must judge which summoners are worthy when they ask for your aid. And then, you must be willing to answer with that aid when they need it."

"How will I know what to do?" he asked.

"That is a question only you can answer. But the answer lies within your heart. Do you want to stop Bevelle from hurting people?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to trust me, so I can bless you. Have faith that all things work together for good in the end."

He gave a nod of consent and bowed his head, nervously awaiting her blessing.

Yunalesca summoned her magical staff and placed a hand on his head to comfort him. "There, there … You have nothing to fear. I won't harm you because you can't help us if you're not alive and strong." Swinging her staff like a long, low pendulum before him, she spoke softer. "This spell will give you everything you need to fulfill your new, honorary rank in the temple of Yevon. Just relax … and sleep." As the magic of the sleep spell made him drowsy, she gently lowered him to the cavern floor. "Sleep the sleep of ages, child. And you will never feel pain ever again."

When the boy was entirely under the spell, the summoner began an intricate dance and casting of spirit magic, as she had done for all the other Fayth before him. Arcane glyphs wrote themselves over and around the child's body until they hardened and solidified into a stone seal. A brilliant light rose from the tomb and floated around her before bursting into sparkles of light. When she finished her casting, she swooned and caught a large rock to keep her balance but looked to her husband, who was keeping watch behind them to be sure no one else in the cavern saw the secret transformation. "We will have to ask the elder ronso for the aid of his strongest men to move Bahamut to the Bevelle temple at the earliest chance. He must not be left here, forgotten."

Zaon nodded in agreement. "See if he is ready," he prompted, reminding her of their urgency.

Yunalesca waited a moment to be sure the boy's soul had time to pass from life through death into the spirit realm under the seal of the ancient spell. When she was sure he had healed enough to be resurrected, she closed her eyes and opened a portal to the Farplane, reaching out to his soul through the glyphs on his tomb drawn by the summoning spell. "Bahamut, I am your maker. Return to me. Show me your true colors, brave heart." The glowing glyphs danced beneath her feet, prying into the plane of magic. Yunalesca always looked forward to the initial surprise of how the soul of a Fayth manifested back into reality. But she had never seen such any soul transform into such a large, powerful form as what the small boy had become. "Incredible," she whispered and bowed before him.

))((

Bahamut rose from the glyphs and felt his body coalescing with warmth and light from a deep sleep. But when he looked down at his hands, they had long, sharp talons and scales that gleamed like polished ebony. He cried out in confusion and fear, but instead a throaty shriek that turned into a roar issued from his sharp maw. He flicked wings and a tail, nearly falling over the additional appendages as he turned around in the cramped cavern space. Then, he gazed down at his own body, entombed in stone. He had been too young to study the Fayth yet, but he shrieked again as he realized that was what he had become.

"Bahamut, you must be brave!" Yunalesca tried to calm him. "You are now a mighty aeon with powerful magic unique to you that you have yet to discover. Those people out there need you! They are all that's left of Zanarkand! Don't let anything into this cavern that might harm them. Do you understand?"

The dragon lowered his head and placed his forefeet on the tomb where his human body was preserved in magic and stone. Then, he crawled forward behind Lady Yunalesca and Lord Zaon to rejoin their ronso guide. Fear in a ronso's eyes was a rare sight—almost as rare as a black dragon.

"Do not fear him," Yunalesca told the ronso. "He has volunteered to protect us, like the other aeons you saw before him."

Bahamut squeezed himself through the tunnels, trying to keep pace with the small ronso and even smaller humans on their way back to the inhabited caverns. Just when he was beginning to wish the summoner had waited until she was outside to summon him, he heard the Zanarkand refugees gasp in awe and scuttle quickly out of the way in astonishment and fear.

"This is your new guardian," she told the survivors. "Bahamut will not harm you. Heed him well. And, above all, honor him. Always remember that he willingly gave his life to protect yours." Yunalesca gave the people a few minutes to accept that the new aeon wouldn't hurt them. Then, she and her husband led him outside into the snow and wind. "Their lives depend on you now, dear one." Yunalesca stroked the dragon's black scales. "Be wise. Be fierce. And never doubt your heart, regardless of whatever fears your head whispers to you. You are the very definition of courage."

Free of the tight confines of the cavern, the black dragon sat in the snow and watched the summoner and her guardian head down the road to Zanarkand, where Yu Yevon remained as the sole guardian of his crumbled city. Bahamut looked at the snow falling around him and realized the cold meant nothing to his thick hide and scales now. Was he really dead? He still felt so … alive. His young soul felt very insecure about his strange new state of existence, but he faithfully remained at his post to perform his duty. He had little choice now.

))((

Zanarkand's prisoners of war were flown back to Bevelle and taken to the temple they were supposed to have been trying to secure and protect. Lenne expected to see Founders military uniforms all over the place, due to some kind of siege. Instead, Yevonite summoners went about their usual business, closing up shop for the night after a typical day of teaching students, training summoners, and performing sendings or healings within the city. They smiled and greeted one another with ease as if nothing at all had happened with Zanarkand.

"Please inform Maester Renuta that the Zanarkand prisoners are here," the Bevelle warrior leading them spoke to one of the temple summoners.

"Certainly." The summoner cast an uneasy look at the line of dirty, bloody, distraught prisoners and their cuffs, and his eyes lingered on Lenne for a moment. "Take them down to the holding cells, and I'm sure he'll be right with you," he told the warrior.

Lenne didn't know his name, but she remembered his face. She'd met him twice before, once for training, and once when he was seeking a guardian—both in Zanarkand. Why would a temple summoner be taking another summoner prisoner when he should be negotiating to set her free? She thought about giving him a piece of her mind using some of Shuyin's choice words, but she honestly didn't know what to say. She had no idea what was going on anymore.

Warrior monks took over the task of escorting the prisoners below the ground level. Lenne had never seen anything like it before. Bright, pulsing lights and circuitry were everywhere here, on the translucent conveyor paths that carried them further down, in the lifts, over the walls, even in the ceiling and floor far below the suspended framework of catwalks. "What is this place?"

"You're inside Spira now, instead of on top of her," the warrior monk at her side answered.

"The ship?" Lenne was awed, momentarily forgetting the danger she was in.

The prisoners were led to another level that, at first glance, seemed to be a beautiful room full of large bird cages suspended by long chains above long waterfalls. But upon closer examination, Lenne realized it was a confinement chamber. The cages were ornate, as was the rest of the temple, but they were cages all the same. One cage per prisoner was lowered, and everyone was placed far enough apart that communication couldn't be accomplished without shouting. Her cuffs were not removed until she was secured inside the cage, and then the cage was raised by its thick bronzed chain and pulled back into place over the churning waterfall pool below. If the fall didn't kill anyone trying to escape, the turbulent water would.

Lenne gripped the bars and sank to her knees. She wondered how long she would have to stay locked up, but more than that, she feared that if Shuyin and Zen were ... She shook her head, unable to unsee the pyreflies rising over the battlefield. But she was unable to accept that possibility. It was too horrible to think about.

Several minutes later, a man in Yevonite robes came to each of the prisoners' cages with a couple of warrior monks. Lenne paid them no attention until they came to her. Then, she was stunned to see that this man wore the robes of a master, one of the governors of the temple. "Why is a temple of Yevon taking summoners prisoner?" she demanded.

The maester had a round body and a round face that did nothing to offset the sharpness of his hawk-like nose and eyes. He scrutinized her for a moment, then called up to her. "Are you a summoner or a black mage?"

Surely if this maester knew who she was, he would release her. "My name is Lenne. High Summoner Yevon promoted me to guardian of this temple. I was to come with Lady Yunalesca to install an aeon within these halls." Standing, she shook her bars. "I demand that you release me at once and explain yourself!"

The maester did register recognition at her name and supposed position. "Lower the cage," he told the guards, and one of them broke away to perform the command.

Lenne's cage was lowered to the floor, but she was not released. "Why are you doing this? You should be helping us!"

"I am Maester Renuta. While it's nice to finally meet you, I can't say I'm glad you're here. Although, I am relieved you are here under these circumstances rather than as our Fayth."

"As your Fayth?" Lenne squinted at the man, thinking either she heard him wrong, or he was horribly ignorant of Yevon's teachings despite his position. "I am not your Fayth. I'm here to teach new summoners how to pray to the Fayth and summon its aeon. If we can get Lady Yunalesca into this temple, she could put the Fayth in place and summon another aeon to the battlefield to save what's left of our summoners, mages, guardians, and warriors. Please! One more aeon might at least help them escape before it's too late!"

Maester Renuta chuckled. "You are quite naïve to be offered such an important position, summoner. What do you think a 'temple guardian' is exactly? As a guardian is both sword and shield to his summoner, so a Fayth is sword and shield to the temple. Each of the other temples' guardians has been entombed as a Fayth. I know this for a fact because one of our friends from the Zanarkand temple accompanied Lady Yunalesca on those journeys and reported back to me about it. Lord Yevon wanted you to be a willing sacrifice so they could bury you alive." He stepped closer, but let that sink in for a moment. "Once your soul is trapped and bonded within that seal, summoners can summon your spirit back to life as an eternal guardian."

All of Shuyin's rambling doubts and warnings crashed down on her. "Yevon wouldn't do something like that. It goes against his own teachings." She refused to believe it was true, but her faith in that denial was slipping. "They offered their services to Yevon so that when they died fighting fiends, they could continue to be of service."

"Is that what they teach you, or is that your own theory? My friend at the Zanarkand temple has witnessed the Rites of the Fayth, and believe me, the victims are very much alive until the spell that melds them into stone suffocates them to death. And I'm almost positive he's not telling them the entire truth about that before he casts the spell to capture their souls. It is unethical, and therefore, our temple here at Bevelle will not condone it."

"Your temple? Your temple belongs to our temple!" she corrected him.

"Not anymore," he frankly informed her. "We disagree with the way Yevon is running things in Zanarkand. His philosophies on summoning the dead have become amoral. We want no part in human sacrifices. It is enough for a summoner to do white magic and send the dead. Besides that, he crossed the line of political safety when he declared Zanarkand's independence from the Founders. That immediately brought every other temple of Yevon under suspicion of mutiny—especially here in Bevelle, where we have access to the ship's controls. Ambassador Guregohe from the Founders came to put us under lockdown as soon as Yevon announced Zanarkand would not cooperate with the restrictions on magic. I knew he was planning on putting an aeon in here, and frankly, I didn't want it. So, Guregohe and I reached an ... agreement."

Lenne's eyes narrowed. "You mean conspiracy. Your friend in Zanarkand was a spy, and you are a traitor."

Renuta smiled at her harsh accusations. "Conspirators, perhaps. Traitors? No. We're keeping the summoning arts from becoming defiled with any more necromancy. We will continue to teach the majority of Yevon's philosophies, white magic, and Rites of the Sending. We will even honor his name as our founding leader. But we refuse to call the dead back to life in any form for any reason. There must be some restrictions placed on magic, or no one will take responsibility when corruption takes over."

"You killed an entire city of people without any regard toward who was innocent or guilty. How dare you preach at me about ethics!" Lenne shouted at him.

"The Zanarkand temple was corrupt with necromancers! It needed cleansing."

"Most of the people you killed knew nothing about the Fayth or aeons!"

"Ambassador Guregohe thought the rest of Spira needed to see what would come of anyone defying the Founders' rights to command a ship they built. Zanarkand was made an example while also removing the problem at its root," he frowned at her. "Bevelle will head the temple of Yevon from now on since we are their governing seat for Spira. Now we can work together in Spira's best interest rather than coping with Yevon's obstinate disagreements from afar. Zanarkand and Yevon became a liability for Spira. It's best that they trouble Spira no more."

Lenne trembled as she glared at him, but she wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger. The Bevelle temple had betrayal Zanarkand. But Yevon and Yunalesca had betrayed their followers, too. Losing Shuyin, Zen, and countless others on the battlefield was the fallout of both. She would probably never see her little brother again, and she had lost the rest of her family, friends, and everything she owned in the massacre that started the war. Lenne gave one loud burst of rage as she shook the door bars on her cage, but then slid to the floor to weep with frustration.

Maester Renuta turned away from the caged summoner to speak with the warrior monk watching this area of the confinement chamber. "This one warrants special attention. I want to speak with her further about Zanarkand's affairs, but it's late, we're both tired, and I'm awaiting reports from my scouts before making any final decisions. Have her cleaned, fed, and presentable in my office first thing tomorrow morning."

Lenne's chest rose and fell with quickening anxiety as she watched him walk away. Then, she was cuffed once more, and her door was unlocked and opened. "Let go of me!" She tried to resist, now that she knew beyond any doubt that the temple was responsible for the Zanarkand carnage. But she was too weak to fight, and struggling to escape would only end in her own death.

When she stopped resisting, she was escorted toward the prison bathroom and handed a plain robe to change into. "If you wish your own clothing cleaned and returned, leave it by the door," the warrior monk told her before he unchained her and left alone behind another locked door.

Lenne looked at herself in the mirror. She could hardly remember putting on her favorite dress a couple of mornings ago so that she could celebrate with Shuyin and her friends when the Abes won the Jecht Cup and tournament. The dress looked worse than she did now. Undressing, she set her boots and clothes by the door, then stepped under the showerhead and turned on the water. Mud and blood rinsed out of her hair and off of her skin to disappear down the drain, but water could not wash away the memories.

When she had showered and wrapped herself in the heretical robe, she came out of the bathroom with bare feet and wet hair and offered her wrists. The warrior monk, glad for her cooperation, escorted her back to her cage, where she was once again locked in, uncuffed, and hoisted above the turbulent water.

Lenne leaned her head against the bars and started to cry when she heard a loud zap a short distance away and looked up, startled. One of the black mages taken captive with her had tried to send a thundaga spell into the lock of his cage, but a permanent reflect spell on the cage made it backfire, electrifying the entire contraption. The mage fell dead within his confines. The summoner gasped and turned her back to the horrid sight. Then, she buried her face in her hands and tried not to relive the nightmares she had witnessed that day.

))((

When Shuyin woke that night, he was lying on and under a lot of furs next to a warm fire in an otherwise dark cave that was cluttered with more strung furs, dried meats and herbs, storage urns and baskets, and several spare lances. Obviously, this was a ronso dwelling, but that was small comfort. He started to roll onto his side to get up, but his body ached as if he'd been tackled by a whole team of behemoths. Moving each stiff limb, he was glad to confirm that his body was whole. But when he sat up, he found multiple new scars from rather large wounds on his chest and torso, many of which he didn't even remember receiving. "Lenne." His throat was dry, but he called to her, thinking she was the one who healed him.

"Lenne not here. Lenne taken to Bevelle."

Shuyin was startled by the gravelly voice and twisted to look behind him. The speaker was a female ronso he'd never met before. "And Zen?"

"Zen speak with Elder Kinan about machina war." She moved closer, and a large, blue hand with sharp claws gently cupped his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back down. "Do not disturb Elder. Zen come to you when ready to speak. Human stay here," the lion-woman added with a snarl as if daring him to contradict her. Then, she stood and left the cave.

Pulling the furs around his shoulders to keep out the mountain chill, Shuyin tried to remember the last thing that happened before he blacked out. He had shoved Lenne behind him, between himself and Zen. And the tingle of the healing spells sustained him until Lenne had nothing left to give. He remembered killing several soldiers—human soldiers, not just machina robots. But he never thought he could have done such a thing. And Lenne ... If she was in Bevelle, she was probably a prisoner, but maybe the temple could negotiate her freedom. After all, she was chosen to be their guardian. But Shuyin felt like he should be doing something to help, instead of lying on his back, now that he was healed. Waiting without knowing anything was harder than being on the battlefield, in some ways.

Zen entered the cavern, and Shuyin sat up straight. "What happened to Lenne? Do you know for sure she's in Bevelle? Is she okay?"

The young ronso always appeared to be solemn, but in this case, his mood actually matched his face. "Zen badly hurt on battlefield but saw Lenne taken to airship. Shuyin badly hurt, too, but still alive. Pokoa found us. Used white magic to heal us."

Shuyin guessed Pokoa was the female ronso that had also threatened to bite his head off if he disturbed the Elder.

"Zanarkand lost many," the ronso continued. "Bevelle lost few. Bevelle army quiet, but camp at foothills of Gagazet. Not go back to Bevelle. Bad sign, Elder Kinan says. More bad news for Zanarkand."

Shuyin let the news sink in. "They want to wipe us off the map. They're going to launch another attack to finish us off." He could hardly believe the extent of Bevelle's hatred. Closing his eyes, he listened to his own heartbeat and tried to calm the rage that was growing inside. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he opened his eyes to wipe it away. "I have to go to Bevelle," he decided. "I have to get Lenne out of there." He reached for his yellow and black blitzball uniform, but Zen thrust a large hand into his chest to push him down. He winced at the ronso's strength but grasped the corded forearm in a less-than-friendly grip. "Don't try to talk me out of it! Either come with me or get out of my way!"

"Blood raise suspicion in Bevelle." Zen indicated Shuyin's dirty uniform, then moved to a chest and withdrew the mostly black blitzball uniform that Shuyin gave him. This was apparently his cavern, and he had brought the souvenir home for safekeeping on one of his return trips.

Confused, but then surprised, Shuyin looked at his spare uniform with uncertainty. "It was a gift since you like blitzball so much."

"Much more than gift now. Free Lenne. Lenne more important than blitzball."

Shuyin accepted the uniform back and tipped his head in gratitude. "Thank you."

"Still Zanarkand uniform, but maybe Bevelle not know clean Shuyin make trouble for them." He dropped Shuyin's sword at the foot of the fur bedding. Then, the ronso gave him a fierce snarl and left.

Shuyin allowed himself a small smile. Always the trouble-maker …

))((

When he was ready, Shuyin met Zen outside of his cavern. Zen had been gathering a few supplies and insisted on accompanying the blitzball player to Bevelle to look for their summoner. But on their way out of the village, they were startled to see a giant, black dragon guarding the entrance.

The dragon jumped to its feet and bellowed at them, causing both of them to draw their weapons. Its large, horned head swooped low in attempt to get closer and sniff them. But the unintelligible growls and grunts it projected only made them back further away.

"Must be Yunalesca's last aeon," Shuyin suggested. "We could have used something like that on the battlefield," he warily grumbled as he walked a wide circle around it, due to its strange behavior.

The dragon jumped in front of them to block their path, then let out a deep-throated roar.

"Aeon not want to lose more people," Zen interpreted the action. "Aeon protect ronso and humans in village."

Shuyin shook his head and spoke to the aeon. "My summoner was taken to Bevelle. I have to bring her back."

The dragon quieted, clearly understanding his words, but it did not move.

"Get out of my way!" Shuyin ordered and snapped his sword down in front of him. He would fight the aeon if he had to. "It's my choice to leave! You protect the village, not me!"

To his surprise, the black dragon gave a sorrowful cry but backed away to let him pass. Shuyin was unsettled about it but ran forward with Zen before the dragon could change its mind. And as they headed down the snowy slopes toward the mountain pass, the dragon bellowed another oddly mournful roar behind them.

))((

In the dark of night, the pair traveled from Gagazet back down to the grasslands. Though the land was filled with shadows, the moonlight and heavily guarded campfires revealed the tragedy of what happened on the vast and formerly green prairie. Massive machina firepower and strong black magic had turned it into a graveyard with permanent scars of deep, gouged-out craters and long, cliff-like trenches. The bodies of Bevelle's deceased warriors had been transported back to the city, but the shells of thousands of machina still littered the ground. The bodies of Zanarkand's dead could not be transported home, and most had been left lying in the open without summoners to attend them. Shuyin frowned at their disrespect for Zanarkand's fallen and their stupidity in trying to get rid of Yevon and his magic in a way that would only create more fiends. All that death, only to create more death. All that pointless destruction had only made things worse.

As they continued down, Zen used the changed terrain to their advantage, crossing the plain by sneaking and hiding in the pitted plugs blown out of the ground. Shuyin was grateful to have the ronso on his side, because of his better vision in the dark and his predatory instincts and hunter's skills. Humans, he decided, had greatly underestimated these people. The ronso's blue body even blended into the darkness so that all Shuyin could see of him was his shock of long, white hair, his sharp yellow horn, and his luminescent, pale green eyes. By contrast, Shuyin felt very conspicuous with his yellow hair, fair skin, and patches of yellow and white in his uniform.

"Land open to large cliff on the right," Zen whispered when they paused behind a large, immobile machina to survey the remainder of their stealthy crossing. "High rock wall to left. Less danger," he decided. "Stay close to wall and low in shadows. Cleft between walls not far."

"What about fiends?"

"Ronso fight with stealth. Shuyin take cover."

"But—"

"Shuyin take cover," Zen insisted. "Shuyin go to Lenne."

Shuyin backed down beneath his friend's bright glare and soft growl. Whatever happened here, one of them needed to make it to Bevelle, so he reluctantly agreed to split their missions if necessary.

Zen crouched low and ran left toward the cliff wall. Shuyin was agile and quick enough to keep up, but the beast-man's path through the darkest parts of the field was challenging. He tried hard to stay directly behind the ronso, knowing one false step could turn an ankle or send him into an unexpected pit. When they encountered a small pack of lupines that came to scavenge the dead, Shuyin continued creeping forward in the shadows to let the ronso fight alone. Zen took on all three, enduring their bites, but silencing their snarls and howls with spells to avoid drawing the attention of the Bevelle patrols. Afterward, he drank a healing potion to mend his injuries, then ran to catch up with the blitzball player.

Eventually, they came to the cleft between the walls and sat down to rest. They were now behind the majority of the army's camp, but there were still patrols roaming the back area near the main road. Shuyin crouched on one knee to count the number of guards blocking their intended path. "Twenty. And there's probably more on the road into Bevelle."

Standing tall, Zen scanned the area around them. "Go over cliffs."

Shuyin looked up at the steep, rock walls. "Are you crazy? What makes you think I'm capable of scaling that?"

"Other cleft that way. Ruins can be climbed. Then, jump to low cliff. Go around top to Bevelle. Shuyin good jumper like ronso." Zen didn't give him time to argue before slinking out of their hiding place and hurrying along the wall toward the other crevice he mentioned.

Growling under his breath, Shuyin ran after him. He soon found himself cornered between two rock walls with no place to go except into the Bevelle patrols or up.

A noise not far away caught the attention of the army, and a scuffle broke out against fiends preying upon them in their sleep.

Opportunity had arrived, so Shuyin leaped, caught the edge of the low rise, and pulled himself over it. The ronso followed, then led the way further left, jumping over fallen monolithic stones down into the small ancient ruins. Shuyin hopped over the stones behind him but paused at the discovery. "Woah. Is this one of Yevon's temples?"

"Ruins of age before Yevon, like ruins above Gagazet." Zen climbed some stones among the ruins and jumped as high as he could reach. Catching the dirt-and-rock ledge with his claws, he broke his fall enough to reach one hand beyond, into the grass-covered ledge to pull himself over it.

Shuyin looked at his human hands. Even wearing a blitzball glove to improve his grip on his sword wouldn't help him latch onto a vertical, rock surface.

The ronso wrapped the belt of his pouch around the head of his lance to fashion something for his smaller friend to grab onto. "Jump."

Shuyin shook his head at the crazy rig but took the leap on faith. His hands caught the lancehead and held tight while the ronso pulled him the rest of the way up. "Thanks."

As the ronso situated his gear back to normal, Shuyin crept across the flat clifftop and looked down the other side along the road to Bevelle. The city's lights were visible from here, so he paused to marvel at the spectacle for a moment. "It's pretty. Lenne would probably like to see this … someday."

Dawn was on the horizon, so they had to move quickly. They weren't far now, but they still had to get to the other side of the road without crossing any of Bevelle's patrols. "Narrow place to other side at end of cliffs. Shuyin must not miss jump."

"No kidding. Shuyin miss jump, Shuyin go splat." He shot the ronso a flat expression as he followed to the place Zen indicated. "Good thing I practiced that sphere shot a lot."

Zen put a finger to his lips as they approached the light of the campfire from the patrol below. When the ronso saw that all the guards were looking away, he made the leap, landing safely on the other side of the cliffs between the grasslands and Bevelle.

Shuyin crept to the edge and waited. When the patrol looked away, he crouched, ran, and leaped. His feet touched down safely on the other side, but he dropped to a roll to slow his momentum. Then, they both crawled through the grass to the Bevelle road on the other side and continued in a crouched run toward the ocean. There, they dove into the water, swam to the city's docks, and came out beneath the piers. When they finally stopped to rest again, Shuyin leaned back against a barnacle-covered post.

"Zanarkand blitzball player wait here. Ronso move freely to scout Bevelle." Creeping out of their hiding place, Zen prowled around the docks of the large city by himself.

Shuyin closed his eyes. Lenne was here somewhere, but if he wanted to find her, he had to let the ronso become his guardian. He decided they should check the temple first. If Lenne wasn't there, they could at least report what happened with Zanarkand and ask for shelter and food before searching the rest of the city.

If Yu Yevon had just let the summoners stay with the refugees, Lenne would have been safe. Yu Yevon had become overconfident and blinded by his own pride. And his summoners and citizens paid the price. Shuyin was beginning to hate the high summoner as much as he hated Bevelle now. The man was more concerned about his city than the lives of the people who made it what it was. This war had gained nothing for Zanarkand or Bevelle, but if their political leaders killed each other, maybe the rest of Spira could live in peace. Groaning at his rising cynicism and despair, he made himself dismiss politics to focus on Lenne. The only thing that mattered now was saving her.