Seihad

by TK Takaishi

After fifteen years of lies, the Khaydarin Empire finally launches its invasion with frightening force. As the prophesied Final Seihad escalates, the only hope of salvation lies with six stand-masters who must relive the legacy of Adun…and surpass it.

9. Seihad Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me.

**Author's notes: Since it's been so long since I've posted, this is a short summary of what happened in chapter eight. It opened with a scene where the Ichijoujan spy is talking with a Khaydarin agent, discussing what to do with Ken. Locke continues his deception with Emperor Tichon, and learns that something called a sangrias will be completed soon. Then it switches to the scene at Ardinberg. Kari, Cody and Aidan finally arrive at Ardinberg. The stand-masters decide to send Yamato with the Taelidani scouts down to Ichijouji to see what is going on, as well as to get him away from Ardinberg in case he turns against them. It ends with the longest and most involved Takari scene I've ever written (which is still not saying much…) Anyway, on with the story.

Seihad: Chapter Nine

By: TK Takaishi

** June 21st, A.S, 522. The first day.**

Takeru stood as still as a statue on the balcony above the conference room, watching the open door with an impassive calm that betrayed nothing of the tight knots in his stomach. Gripping the wooden railing with both hands, he gazed blankly at groups of delegates that were walking through the double-arched doors and into the chamber. The Kings and Queens, accompanied by their small group of Councilors, looked especially impressive in the full regalia of their Royal robes. The early morning sunlight, still nothing more than a faint, hazy gray that hovered over the horizon, gleamed dully off the jewels of their crowns and scepters. Whenever a delegate passed through the doors, the two attendants on either side of it would rap their gilded staffs against the ground and loudly announce the presence that was about to grace the room.

In a few moments, Takeru knew, all the delegates would be assembled. The doors would shut, and the negotiations would begin. Some small part of his brain still couldn't believe this was actually happening. He had always been working for this conference. Making sure that the delegates would come, carefully maneuvering himself into a position of sufficient power to enact the changes he needed to enact. Months, and even years of preparation would culminate in the next few weeks. Now that the conference was actually here, Takeru found that he had a hard time focusing on his task. He took a deep breath. Much better to think only of success. That way, he wouldn't run the risk of breaking down halfway through the conference from sheer terror.

"It is time, my Lord," Knight Corin said quietly but firmly beside him. "The delegates are almost all here now."

"The Ishidan Emperor must take his place at the head table," Lady Isendre said in her customarily cool and composed tones, "else the conference cannot begin."

"I know," Takeru murmured in reply, before Marc could interject his comment. He made no move. Beside him, he heard the Lord of Saldea shift slightly as he rearranged his blue cloak about himself. Cast with the light blue and cyan of the House of Saldea, Lord Marc nevertheless had the rising meteor of Ishida embroidered onto the chest and shoulders of his cloak with golden thread. Taking a deep breath, Takeru shrugged his shoulders as he tried to get used to his new attire.

He himself was dressed in a blue cloak of similar colour, but radically different cut than Marc's and even more resplendent. In the end, even Takeru had been forced to agree with Marc; the delegates would take it as nothing less than an insult if Takeru did not dress his part as Emperor of Ishida. His cloak was trimmed with silver, and the layer of cloth draped over his cloak was fringed with tassels of gold as a symbol of his nobility. Beneath his cloak, he wore a snow-white sash of silk across his chest as a symbol of his righteousness. At his side, Ichibou was sheathed in a special scabbard that bared the Ishidan crest for all to see, a symbol of his strength.

"Has there been any word from Ichijouji?" Takeru asked.

"None, my Lord," Lord Marc said, shaking his head. "The Taelidani scouts have not returned yet, and we have not received any messages explaining their absence. But we cannot wait."

"I know," Takeru repeated. He decided to let Marc's patronizing tone go. The Lord was probably just as nervous as he was. He sighed. "Then we'll have to start without them. Perhaps they shall arrive in time to ratify the charter, if we succeed in drawing one up."

Finally, the last of the delegates entered the chamber, and the attendant's staffs rapped the ground to admit them. Takeru turned away from the banister and strode swiftly towards the stairs that led down to the conference chamber. "Come then," he said as he gestured at the three knights. "We should enter as well."

Lord Marc didn't reply as the trio approached the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Marc saw Takeru take a deep breath and close his eyes. With interest, Marc turned slightly to observe Takeru as he muttered a few silent words. Then Takeru opened his eyes again and strode forward through the doors.

"Emperor Takeru of all Ishida!" the attendants called out. Was that a touch of pride that coloured their voices? "Lord Marc of Saldea! Lord Andre of Corin! Lady Salatrel of Isendre!"

The low buzz of conversation instantly halted as Takeru led the Ishidan delegation down the hallway towards the center of the chamber. Every eye in the chamber turned and fixed itself on the stand-master - the visionary who had crafted this entire conference together in the midst of the worst civil turmoil in five hundred years. Takeru looked up and gazed at the sunlight that was coming in through the wide, slatted windows lined along the round ceiling of the large, airy conference room.

The dim light of morning calmed his racing heartbeat a little. It was going to be a bright and clear day, perhaps it meant that the Creator was watching him this morning. That realization alone lifted a small burden off his shoulders. Yes, months and even years of preparation were about to culminate in the next few weeks. But whatever happened would be what the Creator willed. And no matter what the Creator willed, Takeru could live with it.

With that renewed resolve, he looked back down.

Right in the heart of Ardinberg, the conference chamber looked like a larger version of the room in which the stand-masters had reunited only yesterday. Tasseled tapestries depicting each of the six stand nations lined the walls, illumined by the gray sunlight that came in through the windows above. Smaller tapestries placed between them displayed the crests and banners of lesser nations. Behind the panels of cherry wood that had been used to line the walls, the building itself had been constructed with the finest blue-veined marble imported from Jakt. The blue veins gleamed and glowed softly in the gray light so that the entire room seemed to have been cast into cool, smoky shadow.

Delegates from the lesser countries, such as Arei and Novinha were already seated at the semi-circular tables that had been carefully arranged in tiers around the center of the room, leaving a single, wide corridor that stretched from the double-arched doors to the center of the hall. Slowly, Takeru let his eye travel from the doors of the chamber, down the long, wide corridor between the tables, and finally to the center of the conference room, to which he was striding.

A large oak table dominated the center of the chamber. The masterpiece of carven wood had been a relic of the masters of the Age of Gods. Large, flat lobes, each with many padded chairs arranged around it, thrust out of the central hub like the points of a six-spoked star. A large, crystal statue rose out of the hub, each of its six facets glowing with the intricately carved symbols of each stand-nation. Where the sunlight struck its point, the white light split into a rainbow of dazzling colours which splashed across the oak table like rivers of liquid jewels. It had taken a master crystal-smith three years to painstakingly sculpt the precious crystal and inscribe the detailed symbols, yet it looked as if it would fall apart if someone breathed on it.

We're ready when you are. Kari's gentle thought-shape brushed across his consciousness as lightly as a feather.

Good of you to join us. Davis thought, his thought-shape tinged with its usual sarcastic humour.

Here we go. That was Yolei. There was no mistaking her breathlessly excited thoughts.

Takeru nodded politely at the stand-masters as he passed her on his way to his own place at the head table. Kari nodded back slightly and smiled wanly. On the point to her left, Cody merely raised his eyebrows in greeting from where he sat in the midst of the Shienar delegation. The other four stand-masters were already seated at their ends of the Head table, on the right hands of the monarchs of their respective nations. None of them exchanged a word.

Takeru swept past them until he reached his own point on the Head Table. Once there, he stood by his seat as his delegation settled themselves around him. Lord Marc sat on his right side. Corin and Isendre settled on his left. Once he was certain that they were settled in, Takeru raised his hands.

In her seat, Kari turned, the better to observe. Something about Takeru had changed. The fear was still there. The nervousness was still there. But somehow, they seemed to have been smothered in the blanket of overwhelming…peace…that had wrapped itself around Takeru's spirit aura. And when Takeru raised his hands, he seemed to tower over the entire chamber by virtue of that peace. The one, steadfast rock in the storm of confused and tense feelings in the entire room.

"Honoured Kings and Queens," he began, "Worthy delegates of Gaea.

"Today, we, the nations of Gaea, have come to put aside our differences, after more than twenty years of hatred, to come together under one banner, the Ishidan banner, to discuss the faint, but real hope of reconciliation. The hope of an alliance against our common foe, against the flood of evil that threatens to engulf us all. The hope, honoured delegates, of a new era of peace and understanding that will be more beautiful by far than the Age of Gods itself. Yes, beyond a doubt, today is a historic day."

Takeru paused for a moment. "Whether it will be a great day, however," he added, slightly quieter, "remains to be seen.

"I urge you, honoured delegates, to leave your petty hatred at the door of this chamber. In here, we will discuss unity, not division. In here, we will discuss rationally; not wildly. Strip yourself of your pride as we have done; become poor to endow later generations with riches beyond your imagination. It is a sacrifice that we stand-masters have borne gladly for all our lives. We ask only for a tiny fraction of what we have given up in return."

Takeru lowered his hands, and looked around. Marc watched as his Emperor somehow managed to make eye contact with every person in the room.

"I call to order," Takeru said, in a soft voice that reverberated throughout the silent chamber, "the first session of the Conference of Ardinberg, on the five-hundred, twenty-second year, priori Seihad. I shall begin, honoured delegates, with my proposal."

Then he stood back, as an attendant strode forth with a long scroll in one hand, and handed it to Takeru. Carefully, the Emperor untied the string holding the scroll together, and unrolled the yellowing paper. Dust flaked and fell off of the aging parchment as Takeru blew on it and exposed it to its first glimpse of sunlight in centuries.

" 'Preamble,' " he read. " 'We, the peoples of Heaven's Land, stand united this day, November 1st, on the first year, priori Seihad, to declare our determination to spare succeeding generations from the wrath of war. And to this end, we, the Kings of Heaven's Land assembled in the city of Palas, Ishida, hereby lay our crowns and all our authority at the feet of the Council of Stand-masters, and submit to their authority as the servants of God on Earth. The Age to come, which shall rise from the ashes of our mistakes, shall forever after be known as the Age of Gods.' "

Takeru looked up at the delegates gathered. He saw their awed expressions. "Do you recognize these words?" Takeru asked, glancing at each of the four kings seated before him.

There was a long moment of silence. Then King San cleared his throat. "The Preamble to the Charter of the Council," he said. "We all memorized it as children, Emperor Takeru."

"Good." Takeru rolled up the parchment again, and tied the string around it. "This is not the original, of course. The original was lost along with Palas and my nation." Slowly, he began to walk around the table, tapping the Charter rhythmically against his palm. "Then you will agree with me, honoured delegates, that though the principles in that Charter, while being the most beautiful ever uttered in this land, were also, in the end, flawed? The promise that the Age of Gods would last forever, was, in the end, just a promise?"

There was a murmur of consternation throughout the chamber. The Lords and Ladies had not expected this. Was the Emperor Takeru, a stand-master himself, defaming the Council to which he rightfully belonged?

"Yes, it was only a promise," Takeru said, answering his own question. "It was proven to be false less than twenty years ago. It was not so long ago that you would have forgotten. You remember the day my nation was invaded and broken. The day Palas, the holy city, was defiled, and my parents were killed. The day Queen Leanne, stand-master of Yagami was found in her chamber, the Shienar knife that had been plunged into her breast still warm with her smoking blood. Yet, these were not what made the promise false."

Takeru shook his head as he continued to walk around the table, his voice rising and falling with his speech. "What proved the promise false," he said, "was the way we responded."

"You must remember those days as well," he said, his voice rising with new strength. His tone did not sound accusatory, but…sad. Almost regretful. "In fact, some of you probably took part in them. The day Lord Ngumo of Yagami declared war upon Sheid in Queen Leanne's stead. The day Fan-Tzu evicted every Jakt citizen within their borders and condemned the ones that remained to the dungeons and to the headman's block. The day Emperor Formar, stand-master of Chironsala, was ambushed by Areian soldiers and killed on his way to mediate the conflict between his own nation and Jakt. The day five hundred years of peace was exposed to be more fragile than a crystal snowflake."

Takeru stopped suddenly and looked up at the delegates around him. "The truth, honoured delegates, must be faced before we can move on. If we do not, we will merely build another era that is destined to fall again. And the truth is, the Age of Gods collapsed because the principles on which it was built was wrong. In other words, this Charter," Takeru waved the scroll above his head, "is incomplete."

There was a moment of deathly silence. Takeru cocked his head.

"I hear no protests," he said, with a mildly surprised expression on his face. "Is this what you had expected? For me, a stand-master, to have the audacity to admit that Adun was wrong?"

Aidan frowned behind his steepled fingers. "Adun was a great man," he said mildly. "I'm surprised at your audacity, Emperor."

"Oh, he was," Takeru agreed. "There is no doubt about that. He brought order to chaos. He suppressed the evil for a time and allowed the good to shine through. He hid our selfish desires and our sins so well and for so long, some of us came to believe that he had succeeded in wiping them out."

He resumed walking again. "But when he and his followers were gone, what then? When the Council was gone, when the stand-masters you had depended on so much for guidance, were gone, what happened?"

Takeru let his words sink in for a long moment as he continued walking around the Head Table. When he reached his own place again, he put his hand on the table and ran his fingertips across the smooth wood. It felt strange, to finally be putting words to what he had believed for so long. What he had known for so long. It didn't even feel like it was him talking. The words came out of his mouth unbidden, as if some other was speaking through him instead.

"Even Adun knew that his work was incomplete," Takeru said with utter conviction. "Note, honoured delegates, that he said nothing about the Age lasting forever. There is nothing in the Charter that indicates that. The promise was founded by generations that came after. Generations who thought that evil that was hidden, was evil that was vanquished. But Adun knew. He prophesied of the real Seihad, where the Tenken would lead Gaea in the last battle it would ever know. He knew, and he wrote it all, in this book."

Another attendant came forward, and placed the leather bound Prophecies on the Head Table. The delegates of the lesser nations leaned forward with perplexed frowns on their faces. In stark contrast, the monarchs at the Head Table, who had all read Prophecies nodded as sudden understanding flooded their faces.

"But today, we will change that," Takeru said, his soft-spoken voice ringing with determination. "Today, we will no longer be content with hiding the evil. We will cut it from our hearts like a malignant growth. We will purge it from our land like the disease that it is, for the real Seihad is upon us. But unless we stand together, united in our strength and cause, the Last Battle will not bring salvation. It will bring death for us all."

Putting the original Charter aside, Takeru looked around.

"Honoured delegates," he said boldly, "I move, not for a return to the first Charter of Palas, but for the completely new drafting of another Charter of the Council."

**********

**June 22nd, one day later**

The oppressive noonday heat weighed down on Yamato's cloaked shoulders like a physical burden, but he ignored it as completely as he did the creeping stiffness that was spreading through his legs and lower back as he rode on the bouncing saddle. It was barely midday yet, and already the stiflingly heat of the Ichijoujan plains was making waves of sweat roll down his neck and back. Some far off part of him kept on urging him to take off his cloak, light as it was, but he crushed it firmly. Taking off the cloak meant giving up his camouflage, a move that could prove fatal in the open plains which offered nothing in the way of cover except long, waving grass and occasional stands of wooded copses. The only concession he allowed himself to make was to tie a damp kerchief to his forehead, as much to cool himself down as to keep his sweat-slicked blond hair out of his eyes.

All around him, the Taelidani scouting party, all with their cloaks on, rode swiftly and silently through the long grass. Despite the heat, nobody seemed to notice it. They didn't even seem to sweat. Yamato was too new to their group to be certain, but he would bet a good sum that nothing short of an earthquake would be able to wipe that stony, emotionless expression from their face. Maybe not even that.

Despite himself however, Yamato could not help but be impressed by the men riding around him. They had not stopped riding since they had left Ardinberg almost twenty-four hours ago, save for brief fifteen minute stops to regain their bearings and for quick cold meals. All of them were dressed in mottled dark brown and gray cloaks that would have blended with a boreal forest as well as it would have blended with a barren desert and everything in between. Holes in the back of their cloaks allowed the long hilts of their swords to protrude over their right shoulders within easy reach of their hands, and each also carried a long, broad-bladed knife on their belts. Some of them had arrows nocked onto short horse-bows and full quivers attached to their belts. Although some might have seen the Taelidani as mere desert savages, Yamato had been an army general too long to miss the deadly, wolf-like grace with which they moved, or the skilled ease with which they hefted their weapons. The very best of his own Khaydarin troops, even with their invisibility cloaks, would have been hard-pressed to be as efficient, swift or invisible as these desert-hardened men. He shook his head as he guided his mount along the rough path with occasional twitches of his knees. If Takeru had an entire nation of these warriors backing him up, it was small wonder he had managed to hold Gaea together for so long.

Raising his head a bit, he looked on ahead. Axum, one of Davis's few staven leaders that had survived the fiasco in the forests of Fan-Tzu, seemed to notice Yamato's stare as he turned around to meet it with his own. A tall, lean man with light brown hair and a light coloured scar tracing its way down one leathery cheek, Axum was the only one in the group of twenty that knew of Yamato's true background. Thankfully, Axum had not told the others about him. Not yet, anyway. And if the others were curious about why Takeru had decided to send along one Ishidan soldier to follow on their scouting mission, they hid it.

"Why have we not been confronted yet?" the soldier beside Yamato suddenly grunted softly, as much to himself as to any nearby listeners. "We crossed the border almost half a day ago."

"Because we're just that good?" said a younger man behind them, grinning impishly. When the soldier turned around to glare at him, his grin faded. "Well, we are!"

"You've got a lot to learn, Roban," the man growled. "Just because you're the best sharpshooter the T'rakul has ever seen doesn't mean you get to be cocky."

"Ichijouji has no need to guard its northern borders anymore, Razul." Yamato turned around slightly in his saddle to look at both of them. Roban was already twenty-three, but he looked eighteen beside Razul. "Perhaps Ken has simply diverted his men elsewhere."

Razul glared around suspiciously. An older man, with streaks of gray mixed in with his dark, swept back hair, he always seemed to glare suspiciously. "We should have seen some sign of life," he growled quietly. "Some patrol or other to make sure nothing comes slipping through that border. But there's nothing, and it's making my spine tingle."

"You worry too much," Roban quipped under his breath. "It's turning your hair gray."

"We may yet meet someone soon," Yamato said as he turned back to scanning the horizon, as much to forestall an argument as to answer Razul's questions. "It may have been coincidence. Twenty men traveling cross-country is easy to miss." Despite his words however, he could not help but feel a heavy ball of dread solidifying in his stomach. Razul was right, the border was too quiet. Even if Ken didn't guard the northern border, he would at least have put sentries there to warn him if something came his way from Ishida, sentries which should have challenged them by now.

All three of them fell silent as Axum glanced sharply behind him. Then, without another word, Axum abruptly adjusted their course towards the west. The column trotted silently onwards for another few miles before Yamato realized that they were traveling upslope. Within a few minutes, Axum had led them into the borders of the wooded copse on the crest of the hill. Yamato felt a tinge of relief as the cool green shade washed over him, but Axum did not stop to let his men enjoy the shade. Pressing onwards, he led them through the tiny thicket until they had reached the edge of the short hill where the trees began to fade. There, and only there, did Axum finally dismount.

 "Take a short break," the Taelidani leader said gruffly. "Break out some rations. We move in an hour."

Everyone dismounted and before long the horses had been hobbled and cold camp rations were being passed around. An hour was not long enough to build a fire and prepare a hot meal, so Yamato accepted his share without complaint. As usual, the Taelidani chakren, a kind of stale, flat traveller's bread baked into paper-thin wafers, was as tasteless as it was boring, but he bit into its stale crust anyway. He would need all the strength he could get to keep up with these men. As he ate, he tracked Axum out of the corner of his eye. The man did not even take a portion. Instead, he dug out a spying glass from his saddle bag and disappeared into the undergrowth, heading south along the crest of the hill.

Yamato sat back and finished his frugal meal as he forced himself to wait. Following the man immediately would have made it obvious that he was watching the staven leader. When Axum still had not returned after fifteen minutes, Yamato got up, brushed off the dead leaves on his trousers and cloak, nodded at Roban's questioning gazes, and stepped after him.

He did not have far to go. A short distance away, partially hidden by the undergrowth, Axum was sprawled on his stomach as he aimed his spying glass out towards the plains beneath the hills. Yamato waited for a moment behind him, but when the staven leader did not seem to notice him, Yamato cleared his throat.

Axum did not look up. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on you," Yamato said, walking up uninvited. "What do you see?"

Axum gave him a sharp glance, and Yamato had the distinct impression of being cut up, analyzed and weighed, all in that one stare. Then the staven leader's mouth twitched grimly as he shifted to his left to make space for Yamato. Getting down onto his knees, Yamato peered out from the undergrowth.

"Over there," Axum said softly, pointing to the south-east. He passed the spying glass to Yamato. "Take a look and tell me what you think."

Yamato passed the glass back. "No need," he replied. With his stand-enhanced vision, he could already see what had intrigued Axum.

Down below in the shallow valley, years of traffic in the Age of Gods between Ishida and Ichijouji had prompted the nations to create a broad, paved road. Twenty years ago, there would have been a constant stream of merchant's wagons, traders and farmers traveling on it. Now, of course, the traffic had all but disappeared along with the trade that had caused it. To the best of Yamato's knowledge, nobody save the occasional farmer had used it in almost a decade.

Which was why the distant smudge of a moving caravan crawling towards them was so intriguing. Yamato frowned as he strained his eyes.

"They're following the road and moving north, for the border," he said after a moment. "And there must be a lot of them if we can see them from here. Several thousand, at least."

Axum chewed his lip as he put the spying glass to his eye once again. "Five thousand, maybe," he agreed. "Not moving too fast, but moving nonetheless. Who are they?"

Yamato grunted noncommittally. "I can't tell," he admitted. "They're not flying any banners."

Another sharp glance from Axum, and this time the hostility in his eyes was not so veiled. "Could they be Khaydarin?"

Yamato hesitated at the hard glance. Yes, Axum definitely knew of his background. At least that knowledge didn't stop him from asking for his opinion. He turned back to look at the advancing column as he considered the question. Could they?

"I don't think so," he said after a long moment. "It's not their style. Khaydarin columns almost never follow roads; they prefer to cut across country. And if for some reason they had to follow a road, they'd almost certainly be cloaked at all times. They've…always prized stealth over brute force until the last moment."

"The conference in Ishida might have inspired them to abandon stealth in favour of speed," Axum said darkly.

When Yamato said nothing, Axum grunted. "Thought so. Damn sons of whores always find a way to ruin everything."

Yamato took a deep breath. "So what do we do now?" he forced himself to ask. If the man hated him, fine, but he would not be baited. The least he could do was submit himself to Axum's authority.

Axum's frown deepened. "I had originally planned to split up once we were deeper into Ichijouji," he muttered. "But now…it might be better to stay together." Straightening as if he had made a decision, his voice strengthened as he continued. "We have to get closer," he said simply. "Find out who it is."

"What if it is Khaydarin?"

"We'll find that out for sure before we go sounding the alarm to Emperor Takeru and T'rakul Davis," Axum said tightly. He glared at Yamato, and for a moment his face almost turned purple. "Do…do you know a way to counter invisibility cloaks?" Each word sounded as if it had been pulled out of him with a fishing line.

In a flash, Yamato understood. After the Taelidani's miserable failure against Khaydarin stealth cloaks, the man was asking for help. From a former Praetor. No wonder he looked like he had swallowed a live frog. "I can sense people, even invisible ones, from one hundred paces away," he said plainly. "It's not as good as sight, but I can give you some warning before we stumble into an ambush."

A flash of gratitude and relief flitted across Axum's face before he caught himself. Gratitude because Yamato wasn't rubbing it in, and relief because Yamato did have a way to counter cloaks. His gratitude, however, didn't stop his skeptical streak. "Even T'rakul Davis couldn't sense anyone over fifty paces away."

"I've been trained in the art of manipulating the Perenic plane since I was five," Yamato said flatly. "T'rakul Davis knows only what he has discovered for himself in the past five years. I assure you, I can sense them." Then he hesitated. "There is also…"

"Yes?" Axum prompted.

Yamato paused reluctantly, then shook his head. "There's no guarantee it'll work," he said. "Forget I said anything."

Axum stared at Yamato for a long moment, then abruptly stood up. "Fine," he said gruffly. "Just…tell me the moment you sense anything," he ordered as he stood up.

Yamato gathered his cloak about him as he backed away from the undergrowth and straightened up. "Then am I to assume that our break has been cut short?" he asked wryly as he watched Axum brush loam and leaves away from his cloak.

For answer, Axum turned and began trotting for the rest of his party. The moment he got back, he began snapping orders. "On your feet, and start cleaning up this place. I'll be on point, and we start moving double-time in three minutes. Move!"

And the staven leader meant it. Three minutes later, to the second, the party of mounted scouts began trotting down the southern side of the hill. If Yamato thought they had been moving fast before, it was nothing compared to the half-gallop, half-canter pace that Axum now set. Keeping to the wooded thickets whenever he could, and fairly sprinting across the open ground when he could not, Axum cut a zigzag intercept course with the mysterious caravan across the countryside.

One hour passed, then another. The miles flew by like water under a bridge. As they grew closer, Yamato began to feel more and more tense. Axum seemed to become more cautious as well; every so often he would pause in a thicket's deep shadows for minutes on end as he anxiously scanned the land before him. For his part, Yamato fingered his sword uneasily as he stretched his stand senses as far as they would go, ever on the lookout for cloaked Khaydarin soldiers. It was an effort to draw on his stand for so long, but Yamato dared not let it go. They should be close by now, and all of Axum's scanning would be useless if the enemy was using cloaks.

The road came into view, but Axum avoided it. Running a parallel course to it perhaps a mile to the west, he traced it south like a hunting hound on a scent. Another mile passed, and Axum abruptly paused. Here, the road began a long, gentle curve to the west to avoid the long, low hill that lay in its path. Sizing up the land swiftly, Axum changed directions and began to head for the hill to the road's east. When they were once again safely ensconced in a wooded thicket on top of a hill, Axum stopped.

"Dismount," he ordered. "Find a place to hide where you can see the road. We wait here."

Wordlessly, Yamato dismounted with the rest of them and led his horse deeper into the thicket and tied his reins to a short sapling with a loose, easy-to-untangle knot. Around him, men disappeared into the shade, some heading north, some south, and some even went east, away from the road. Unfastening his sheathed sword from his belt, Yamato let it lean against his shoulder as he crouched in the deep underbrush. Here, they were as safe from prying eyes as they could be, surrounded as they were by deep green foliage. Somewhere to his left, the cry of a forest falcon sounded out, answered by a few rustles of small animals as they scurried away to safety. Yamato ignored them as he cast his gaze southwards in search of the caravan.

A little distance away, Axum stood in the cover of a large oak and raised his spying glass to his eye, but it was Yamato who found them first. The travelers were no longer an indistinct smudge against the horizon, and although Yamato still could not make out their colours, he could already tell that there was something wrong. There was barely any order to their ranks, and at the center of it, there was no order at all. But whatever it was, it was large, larger than it had appeared at a distance. Yamato frowned as he tried to estimate their numbers. Five thousand? Six?

"What the hell," Axum muttered as he leaned forward with the spying glass. "Who are they? It doesn't even look like…"

"They're not flying any colours," Roban said, squinting at the distance. "No banners, nothing."

"Not only that," Yamato said in confusion, "They're not wearing uniforms, or armour. Well, at least the center isn't. Look, you can see the different colours from here."

"Wagons," Razul grunted. He pointed at the rear. "Lots of them. See those dust trails? If those weren't kicked up by wagon wheels, I'll eat my saddle."

"They don't look like an army," Axum concluded as he lowered his spying glass. Behind it, his eyes were perplexed. "Not all of them, at least. The ones in the middle certainly don't."

There was another forest falcon's cry, closer than the first one, and this time Yamato frowned in consternation. Turning around, he scanned the forest behind him. Forest falcons were rare and solitary birds, but the one that had just cried out was a different bird than the first. Looking around, he discovered that no-one else seemed to have noticed.

"Then why such a large group?" Axum continued as he ran his hand through his brown hair. "Why heading for Ishida?"

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Yamato's neck stiffened. Whirling around, his sword cleared its sheath in a heartbeat. "Axum," he said urgently. "There's someone behind us, coming fast."

Everyone stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. Axum however, cursed viciously. "Where?" he whispered savagely. "How far? How many?"

Yamato concentrated on the foggy, distant glimmers on the edge of his stand's vision, and jerked his head. "East," he said. "Twenty, at least." He cursed. "Scratch that. A lot more, behind that forty. Beyond count, perhaps an army, right at the base of this hill." He looked at Axum. "We have thirty seconds before they reach us."

"On your horses," Axum snapped. "North, quickly!"

As the men ran to release their horses' tethers however, another falcon's cry sounded out, this time to their south. Yamato paused in mid-stride as he turned south. "Wait!" he hissed. Around him, the activity suddenly ceased as everyone stared at him again. On instinct, he cupped his hands to his mouth and let loose a cry of his own. As the whistle-like shriek echoed across the hills, Axum's eyes bulged. "What are you-"

"It's working," Yamato said suddenly. "They've stopped."

A confused look came into Razul's eyes. "What?"

"They've stopped advancing," Yamato repeated as he strained his stand's senses. "They're still spreading out, flanking us, but nobody's coming nearer."

Before anyone could bat an eyelid, Axum had drawn his sword and was advancing on Yamato. "What did you do?" he demanded hoarsely. "What was that cry for? How did you-"

"If I wanted to betray you, do you think I would have given you any warning at all?" Yamato snapped. "I called out because they were using bird calls as signals. Khaydarin never uses bird calls; they have mirrireid bearers to communicate for them!"

"What the hell's going on?!" Roban interrupted. He was staring at Yamato, then at Axum, and back again. "Why would Lord Matt betray us? What are mirrireid bearers? How do you know there are men around us?"

There was a tense moment of silence in which Yamato and Axum locked glares hard enough to strike sparks on wet wool. The rest of the twenty men looked as confused as Roban, but one glance at the pair's stony faces was enough to hold their tongues. Half of them looked ready to out sword at the drop of the proverbial pin. The other half looked poised to start running.

"Ten of them started moving again," Yamato said softly, yet piercingly. "The rest are staying back. The ten are moving slowly, not running. You should be able to see them now."

"Be ready to out sword," Axum said angrily, "but don't draw them yet." With that, he turned to face east.

In moments, ten half-formed shadows rose like mist from the surrounding trees and appeared in a ring around them. Even Yamato's eyes had a hard time distinguishing their blurred shapes from the forest background. Each was clad in a mottled brown, gray and green cloak that blurred and shifted their outlines nauseatingly with the slightest movement, and each carried spears which were leveled inwards. There was not a single black cloak or golden insignia in sight. Before any of them could say a word, one of the hooded figures stepped up. "Sen-brother Axum, is that you?" It was a woman's voice.

Axum snapped a sharp glance at Yamato, who pointedly ignored it. "At ease," he muttered, and the twenty men of his scouting party relaxed slightly. With a grunt, the staven leader threw the hood of his cloak back so they could see his face properly and stepped forward boldly. "It's me. Put up those spears, sen­-sister," the staven leader said irritably. "We're not Khaydarin."

The hooded figure raised a hand and instantly the ring of ten Taelidani warriors behind her relaxed. Yamato took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose as he forced his hand to release the hilt of his own sword. There would be no bloodshed here, despite their worst fears. Then the leader of the ten Taelidani lowered her own hood as well and Yamato blinked.

Beneath it, short dark reddish hair, tied back in a slim ponytail, framed a young, sun-darkened face and startlingly light gray eyes. The woman could not have been any older than Roban, yet she was obviously in command. Axum's eyes widened as well as he stepped up. "Jana? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," the Taelidani leader replied in a relieved tone. "When you didn't answer the bird calls, I almost assumed the worst. Last I heard, you were with T'rakul Davis. Is he with you? Have you brought help?" A hint of hope crept into her youthful voice.

"T'rakul Davis is at Ardinberg," Axum said. "And no, I brought only the men you see here. That, and Lord Matt," he gestured at Yamato, "We were only supposed to scout for what had happened in Ichijouji that was delaying Emperor Ken."

The hopeful light in Jana's eyes faded. "You received no message?"

"What message?" Axum said in confusion. "We received nothing."

"Then Trakand must have been killed on the way," Jana said, her voice bordering on despair. "He set out five days ago, and it should have taken him only three to run to Ardinberg."

"What message did he carry?" Axum demanded, stepping forward again. "Actually, no. Jana, you'd best take me to T'rakul Ramon."

"T'rakul Ramon is dead."

Axum blinked. "Then the next in command. T'rakul Carlin."

"Carlin is dead as well," Jana said bleakly.

"Then who's T'rakul here?!"

"I am!"

"How is that possible?" Axum exploded. "You were only sorvin-leader to staven-leader Han a month ago! How can you be T'rakul over three thousand swords today?!"

"They're all dead, Axum!" Jana all but shouted. A wave of fury, frustration and uncertain terror flashed across her face so fast Yamato almost couldn't tell one from another. "Don't you see? There are only seven hundred of us left!"

Horrified murmurs rippled through the twenty scouts and for a moment, even Axum's rock-hard façade cracked. "How?" he croaked.

Jana looked so close to tears Yamato could not help but stare. Taelidani were never distraught. "Halidan fell four days ago," she said, her stark, unwavering voice at odds with her trembling hands. "They burned the city and everyone in it: all ten thousand men, women and children. No prisoners as far as we can tell."

Axum's face went deathly white as if he had taken a blow to the stomach, and the murmurs stopped as if they had been cut with a knife. Icy shock lanced through Yamato's heart like lightning and his mouth was suddenly very, very dry.

"Ten thousand," he whispered. "Ten thousand burned alive." He felt sick to his stomach. Everything suddenly made sense, though he wished it didn't. He forced himself to point down at the ragged column along the road. "Is that all that's left?" he asked softly. "The survivors? You're trying to bring them into Ishida, aren't you? You hope that Takeru will protect you?"

Jana nodded. "They're the few thousand survivors that we managed to round up in our retreat towards the north. They were lucky enough to live outside the city." She swallowed, clearly forcing herself to go on. "The Second, Third, Fourth and Eigth Imperial Corps have been completely wiped out. So were the first five stavens under T'rakul Ramon's command. And still the Khaydarins pursue us as if they haven't drunk their fill of blood yet. Stavik, the ruthless, light-blinded sons of-"

"How did this happen?!" Axum barked. "How did Emperor Ken let this-" He stopped and his face blanched even further at Jana's suddenly hollow expression. "No…"

"He's not dead," Jana said, turning her gray eyes on the staven leader. "But he was struck by a poisoned arrow when he turned back to help."

"He's dying, isn't he," Yamato said flatly. No wonder Takeru hadn't been able to reach him on the thought-plane. No wonder Ken had been delayed. The pieces were falling together so fast Yamato's head spun. "The healers don't think he'll make it."

Jana hesitated for a long moment, then looked down. "No," she admitted faintly. "Mistress Nova is trying to slow the poison down, but she says that if he doesn't get the right medicines by tomorrow, he will die."

In the thunderous silence that followed in the wake of her revelations, the Taelidani scouts exchanged horrified glances. Ken had always been as stalwart as the kingdom he led: solid, implacable, and as eternal as a weather-beaten rock. Ichijouji…gone…the thought boggled the mind. Yamato shivered and wrapped his cloak tightly around him as he tried to ward off the sudden chill that had possessed his limbs. It can't be…some far off part of him kept repeating shakily. Not so soon…not so fast… There must be some ray of hope in this…some victory that could still be salvaged…

Jana however, looked hollow and defeated. "And now, you tell me that Trakand never reached Ardinberg, that there is no help coming. You tell me that Emperor Takeru doesn't even know that Halidan has fallen."

She looked around with eyes blind with despair. "The Creator save us," she said flatly. "We're going to lose this war."

**********

Locke forced his fingers to stop fidgeting as he resisted the urge to stick his head outside his tent and check for eavesdroppers. It was mid-morning, and it was perfectly normal for the Praetor to call a meeting of select Decurions at this time of day. He had ordered the guards outside to stay at least twenty yards away, and to keep anyone else from coming in without his express permission, so they should be safe from prying eyes or ears in his tent. Still, the sense of being watched had grown stronger as the stakes had risen higher. It was all he could do now not to be overwhelmed by his, sadly justified, paranoia. With an effort, he dragged his attention to the meeting inside his tent.

"Mirrireid," Centurion Yvan was saying flatly as he held up the glittering talisman by the chain. The silver pentagram twirled slowly in mid-air before his eyes.

"Yes," Locke said. Around him, the five Decurions in his tent shifted uncomfortably as the implications sank in. Six out of the ten present in his camp, but they were the only ones Locke dared trust. They had been the ones that Yvan had assembled for the first meeting. "The mirrireid bearers are our enemy. All of them."

Without thinking, he reached for the talisman, and Yvan surrendered it. Carefully, Locke put it back on. After last night, he had been afraid to take off the mirrireid even for a moment, for fear that he would miss the Emperor Tichon's summons again and arouse further suspicion.

"Begging your pardon, Praetor," Daerid, one of the older Decurions said skeptically, "but how can you be certain that the spies are the ones with mirrireid?"

Locke gave the man an exasperated glance. If anything, the man's age had only served to make him more cynical than ever. Daerid would not have believed the sky was blue today if he had not seen it himself.

"They would need one to be able to communicate with the Emperor," Locke explained for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "To report their findings and to receive new orders."

"There are other ways to communicate," Daerid countered. "Birds, messengers, horsemen…"

"Yes, but none as fast as the mirrireid," Locke said as he stood up and began pacing around the confines of his tent. "And I would have noticed any messengers leaving my camp. Besides, even if there were spies like that in our army, we don't have to worry about Emperor Tichon hearing of our treachery through them. It takes at least a month for a message to get to Khaydarin from here. By the time he hears, the sangrias will be complete, and it will no longer matter whether Tichon knows or not."

"I never knew," Damas hissed from his corner. The stocky, mustached Decurion stared at the mirrireid around Locke's neck as if it was a live adder. "I thought mirrireid bearers were only here to maintain our men's cloaks. Never did I guess they had such abilities."

The others did not nod, but the atmosphere of grim fear confirmed Damas's words. No-one had liked the mirrireid bearers. After all, they were not there to be liked, only tolerated. The story behind their presence in every legion was that they were there to make the invisibility cloaks work, and it held true to a certain extent. Every Decurion knew that once a soldier strayed a few miles from a mirrireid bearer, he became as visible as any other man in a black cloak. Still, their silent, black-hooded presence was not easy to bear under any circumstances. There was something…not quite human about the way they glided and hissed like snakes around the camp that unnerved even the most stoic man.

"Assuming for a moment that the mirrireid bearers are all here to guard us," Damas continued, "what do we do about them?"

"I don't understand the trouble," Marnak grunted. "We know who and where they are. Sakin, Turak, Jael…there are twenty of them in this legion right now. Even if they are spies, they still have to appear as if they follow your orders, Praetor. Why don't we simply send men to kill them tonight? I could have it done before dawn tomorrow."

Locke sighed again. Marnak was a brave warrior and competent in battle, but he would never have survived the Game. "It's not that simple," he explained again. "Tichon would know the instant they died. If we killed one or two, I might have been able to explain it as unfortunate casualties in battle, but if all twenty died at once…he would never buy that."

"It may not be possible to get rid of all the spies without Tichon knowing," Yvan said as he frowned in thought. "If we do it quickly enough, we may be able to kill all of them before any of them can turn against you, but Tichon will know. The good thing is, it may be weeks before another corps can reach us, perhaps more if we hide."

Yvan shook his head as well. "We still don't know much about what one can do over the thought-plane," he said. "For all we know, it may be possible to kill someone over the thought-plane. The moment we get rid of the mirrireid bearers, Praetor Locke may die scant moments afterwards."

"There's an easy way to take care of that," Marnak said heavily. "Praetor Locke can take off the mirrireid. Then we'd only have to worry about outside corps."

"No," Locke said flatly. "Gentlemen, that is not an option. I haven't revealed our little rebellion to Emperor Takeru and Lord Yamato yet, but once we do, I think they would agree. We're more valuable to them inside than outside."

Damas sat back as he fingered his mustaches. "Then we can only keep an eye on the mirrireid bearers," he said, just as flatly. "We can keep them away from you, keep certain orders from them, place special guards around them and hope they don't notice, but you'll never be able to move completely freely until the last moment."

"Even without the mirrireid," Daerid murmured, "is the army ready to follow Praetor Locke yet? It is pointless to hide from Tichon a rebellion that doesn't exist."

"You already represent more than half of this legion," Yvan said, nodding in affirmation. "If you can swear for the loyalty of your men, that's already twenty thousand armed and trained men. Some of the Decurions in this camp are being approached as we speak, and we haven't even started looking at Praetor Locke's legions operating abroad. Centurion Duvas is already on his way east and south to give aid to the hunt going on near Halidan, and Centurion Lars is stationed to the south-west. Let's not forget that they carry at least forty thousand men each."

Locke nodded as well. "Even if only two out of every three men follow me," he said, "we'd still have nearly eighty thousand fighting men to present to Emperor Takeru on the day of the Last Seihad. The challenge here is rallying those eighty thousand without that last forty thousand finding out."

"And what makes you think that that many will follow you?" Daerid said, ever the skeptic. "Even if we did manage to ask them without being hanged for it."

"Oh, but don't pretend that you haven't noticed it," Locke said as he began pacing. There was not much space in the tent, especially with twenty men crowding it, but he made do with what he had. "Surely the rumours have reached you."

There was a hesitant silence. Then Damas blew a breath out. "Rumours," he said roughly. "Mere talk among the men. It could mean everything, or it could mean nothing."

"Talk is the best way to gauge the mood of an army," Locke said without breaking stride. "But the important thing is, you've noticed it too."

Damas nodded reluctantly. "I have heard some…discreet talk."

"So have I," Judim added, one of the Decurions that had remained silent thus far. "Some of them are beginning to question as well. Some quietly, some boldly. And recently, what with some of the orders we've been given…"

"It was the order to kill Praetor Caylor," Yvan said suddenly. "That was what started it."

Locke grinned triumphantly. Strictly speaking, it had not been necessary to tell his men exactly who they were hunting, but he had purposely made as big a deal of it as he could manage without seeming insubordinate. Telling the men that they were hunting for their former Praetor had been one gambit that seemed to be paying off.

"Most of these men," he said as he stopped pacing and turned to face the others directly, "served under Praetor Caylor. The man's command was short. But you, Yvan, you were there. Daerid, Damas, Marnak, Judim, all of you, you were there. We served together during his reign. Do you remember what it was like?"

Yvan looked up. His eyes were clear as he nodded. "He taught us to fight for Gaea," he said softly. "Not for Khaydarin, but for the ideals that Khaydarin represented. It was like fighting for a God. He drove us like slaves, and cared for us like children. I would have died for him. Not the Emperor. For him."

"I felt the same way," Locke said fervently. "The Emperor's orders to kill him may not have gone down too well with most of the men." He turned to stare at Daerid. "Now Daerid, how many are there like us?"

Daerid hesitated, then nodded slowly. "More than we might think," he admitted.

"Then we have to reach out to them," Locke said as he locked gazes with his Centurion. "Extend our influence even farther than the five companies directly under your collective command."

"That doesn't solve the problem," Damas grunted as he frowned in frustration. "How do we reach out to them?"

"Well," Marnak said, chortling, "if we didn't know that mirrireid bearers are Tichon's personal spies, then nobody else does either. As long as we keep rumours from spreading to them, we can be fairly certain that news of your recruitment efforts will never reach Tichon."

"It's not that simple," Daerid said dryly. "Rumours spread with the speed of lightning in a camp. One misstep, and the mirrireid bearers will know. It could take months to spread the word covertly, even with our fastest messengers."

"We don't have months," Locke said tightly. "We have days, Daerid. Days!"

"Praetor, you ask for the impossible," Judim said as he came to Daerid's defense. "I can send out messengers to Lars and Duvas immediately if you think it's safe to trust them, but even they cannot spread the word to their army's Decurions so quickly without the mirrireid bearers in their legions noticing. Haste in this case is a recipe for disaster."

Locke sat down with a bump and ran his hands through his brown hair. By chance, his eye fell on a mirror in the tent, and he felt a small shock as he saw his own face. He was barely twenty-five, yet his face looked as wearied and hardened as if he was forty. Self-consciously, he reached up to touch his hair. Was that a hint of white he saw?

With a weary sigh that seemed to come from his bones, Locke let his hand drop and rallied his wandering attention. Only a few more weeks, and the Game would be over. He had played it so long, he couldn't afford to stumble now. "Then send out your messengers immediately," he said to Judim. "Make sure it's someone you can trust, and make sure they know how little time they have. The timing can't be helped, but I'll be damned if I face the last Seihad unprepared. We'll gather as much as we can in what time we have. In the meantime-"

Suddenly, the sharp crunch of running footsteps on the rough ground outside made Locke shut his mouth with an almost audible click. Judim and Marnak, the two Decurions closest to the tent's closed entrance whirled around, hands flying to the hilts of their curved scimitars, as the rest of them tensed visibly. The footsteps paused outside the entrance, and for a moment, a horrible silence descended upon the collected rebels. Then…

"Praetor," Milan's voice sounded. "A messenger from Mordaen brings an urgent message that you should hear."

Locke motioned for the two Decurions closest to the door to let go of their swords and open the tent entrance, which they did with an almost visible expression of relief. Milan was one of Locke's guards outside the tent, which meant that his order was being followed. Two men strode through the opening. Milan had his helmet tucked under his arm and he only bowed briefly to Locke; the Praetor had never stood on ceremony. His companion however, fell to one knee on the ground. The green stripes on his shoulder contrasted with the blue on the shoulders of everyone else in the room, and marked him a member of Praetor Mordaen's corps.

"My Lord Praetor Locke, my name is legionnaire Tael of the second legion of Praetor Mordaen's corps," the messenger said curtly before he was bidden to speak. If he was surprised at such a large gathering of Decurions, he did not show it. "Praetor Mordaen sends me to tell you that his scouts have found a large party of Ichijoujan refugees, perhaps five to six thousand of them, trekking north for the borders of Ishida. Two days ago, they were seen on the Murin plains, perhaps twenty miles north of Halidan and thirty west of the coast. It is estimated that they are less than four days from the border and Praetor Mordaen requests your help in stopping them."

Locke's eyes narrowed as he stood up. "Get up, Tael," he said brusquely. When the man had risen, he fixed him with his hardest stare. "Why is Mordaen interested in a band of mere refugees? Why should we not let them run? They are beneath our notice."

"Emperor Ken is with them," Tael said simply. "If he is not stopped before they reach the border, he may regroup, rearm and come at us again. Praetor Mordaen finds the risk…unacceptable."

 Locke's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, but he forced himself to nod. "Send this message to Mordaen," he said to Tael. "I, and my entire corps, will be coming to aid him in this hunt. I will send scouts to appraise him of our positions and findings every half day. Go quickly. We will be riding behind you."

Tael nodded, then pressed his fist to his heart. "The glory be to Khaydarin," he intoned.

Locke made himself clench his hand and press it to his own chest. "The glory be to our Emperor," he said. Satisfied, Tael stood up and ran from the tent.

Locke paused for a moment, then nodded at Milan. "See him out of this encampment," he ordered. The man nodded then disappeared outside as well. The moment he was gone, Locke spun around. "Get those messengers out to Duvas and Lars now," he said hoarsely to Judim. "Tell them what we discussed, but add that they are to join us in our march north as if to intercept those refugees, but to come slowly enough so that they won't arrive until it's 'too late'."

"The same excuse won't work for us," Daerid said as he stood up as well. "If Tael is correct, Mordaen will be suspicious if we can't intercept them from here. And we have enough swords here to kill every one of those refugees five times over."

"I'll figure out something when we get there," Locke muttered. "In the meantime, get everyone on their feet and ready to march. I want to be moving within three hours, and scouts out within half an hour. You can be sure that the mirrireid bearers in this camp have heard of this message already. I am not going to give them an excuse to suspect anything." He glared around. "Questions?"

Nobody said anything. The Praetor's directions were clear enough, even if their probability of success was near zero. Locke nodded. "Dismissed," he said brusquely.

Immediately, all the Decurions in the tent picked up their helmets and left, one by one, through the tent exit. Locke watched them be silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside as each of them pushed open the tent flap and went off to prepare their own men. Despite their best efforts to hide it, he could see the doubt in their eyes; but it didn't matter. The important thing was, they would follow him. The appropriate gears would be set into motion, whatever their feelings were.

As the tent flap closed for the last time however, Yvan still remained in the tent. Locke's eyebrows went up, but he said nothing. Instead, he crossed his arms and waited. If the Centurion had something to say, he could do it himself.

Yvan looked at Locke for a moment, then spoke suddenly, "It's too risky."

"I never said it would be easy," Locke said as he fought down a wave of irritation. "But it will all be worth if I can maneuver freely in the Last Seihad."

"With all due respect, Praetor, we will not be able to maneuver at all if we're dead."

Locke's eyes narrowed. Yvan had never been so forward before. "Yvan," he said slowly. "When have I, as Praetor, ever sent my men into a hopeless battle?"

Yvan took a deep breath. "Never."

"I know the risk I am taking, Yvan," Locke said softly. "We've taken gambles before. What's wrong with you this time?"

"Never a gamble with such high stakes," Yvan replied tightly. "Nor with such bad odds."

"Then how would you propose we start expand this little rebellion," Locke said, making an effort to keep his voice calm.

"Don't go from the top down," Yvan said immediately. "Go from the bottom up. Spread rumours among the soldiers, not among the Decurions, and have them decide whether to join or not, but never let people see your hand in it. Let Tichon think that the rebellion is headed by someone else, not you. That way, if the rebellion is discovered, all would not be lost."

"That could take months!" Locke snarled. "Need I remind you that we have a scant three weeks?"

"Haste can ruin us!" Yvan said heatedly. "Praetor, I must object to your plan. It would take a miracle for the mirrireid bearers not to hear of this within the three weeks we have left."

Locke felt his jaw tighten with irritation. Yvan had never been so insubordinate. He was a good man, but that did not excuse this. "The discussion is closed," he said coldly. "The plan has already been set into motion, and I have no intentions of changing it. Now, Centurion, if you have nothing else to discuss…"

Yvan knew a rebuke when he heard one. Accordingly, he toned his voice down forced his fists to unclench, but the frustration in his eyes did not fade. "There is one other thing."

"Yes?"

Yvan looked up. "How shall we warn the stand-masters?" he said quietly. "They must know of the sangrias's completion within the next few days. Organizing our own rebellion is all well and good, but it would all be for nought if we can't let the stand-masters know we exist."

Locke sat down and gave Yvan a deadly grin. "You spread the rebellion and let me worry about warning the stand-masters." He held up his own mirrireid. "It's time to use the Emperor's own weapons against him."

Yvan's eyebrows rose slightly, then lowered again. A small ghost of a satisfied smile twisted the corners of his lips upwards. "Understood, Praetor," he said formally. "I shall see about your plan."

Locke nodded once and Yvan left. As the tent strip flapped closed, Locke leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands as he ran over his plans one final time. The pieces had been set in motion, and the maneuvering had begun. The game was nearing its final stages. As he pondered, Locke could almost recall the quiet, cold voice of Praetor Caylor as he instructed his young Centurion in the intricacies of treachery:

"The game must be played with an ice-cold heart, a steady hand, and ruthless unwavering precision. The first part of the game is merely maneuverings, a shifting of shadows and testing of allegiances, but don't let that fool you. Often, the game's end will be swift, sudden and violent.

"Be careful of your every step, Centurion. Be absolutely certain you are right, for every move you make could well be your last."

**********

"Take me to him," Yamato said urgently as he grabbed Jana's arm. "I may be able to help."

Jana stared upwards at him and a glimmer of Taelidani suspicion and defiance glinted in her eyes. "Sen-brother Axum," she said slowly. "Who is this man?"

The ten Taelidani in Jana's party all turned to look at Axum, who glared at Yamato. There was a moment of uncertain silence as Yamato glared back, holding his breath. Then Axum looked away and turned to Jana. "He is Lord Matt, of Ishida, part of Emperor Takeru's own circle of Knights," he said brusquely. "You can trust him."

Yamato blinked as a wave of surprise and gratitude flooded through him. Axum's glare did not lessen, but he nodded slightly in his direction, as if to say "you can thank me later." Jana inclined her head slightly and her band of men relaxed their grips on their weapons.

"The best healers in Ichijouji are doing the best they can," Jana said. "What more can you hope to do?"

"I have…experience with Khaydarin weapons and poisons," Yamato said roughly. "Enough to keep a man alive for three more days. Let me help."

A murmur of hope broke out among Jana's party, which was quickly silenced by a wave of Jana's arm. "Then come," she said brusquely. The despair she had shown earlier was nowhere in evidence. "We have little time."

Yamato ran back to untie his horse, then mounted it and began trotting after her as she disappeared into the forest. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Axum was following as well. As they emerged from the woods on the other side of the hill, Jana pursed her lips and gave a shrill whistle. Almost immediately, men emerged like mist all around them, and joined them as they trotted onwards. As they did, Yamato took a rough count. Twenty men now. No, thirty. In moments, forty soldiers were trotting along their sides. A grim smile creased Yamato's lips. Looked like the old senses were still bang on.

In moments, it seemed, they had cleared the edge of the forest. Jana began sliding down the gravel-coated side of the drumlin. Yamato followed swiftly, his cloak billowing around him. At the foot of the hill, Jana skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust, and abruptly raised both her arms to wave them above her head; once, twice, three times. As Yamato reined his mount to a stop beside her, there was an answering whistle of a hunting hawk. Satisfied, Jana turned to her own men. "Continue the sweep," she ordered. "I will take these men back to the caravan. Carsin, you're on point. If you see anything, you know what to do."

Carsin, one of her men, nodded, then gestured at the rest of her men. Wordlessly, they split up into groups of three or four and disappeared in all directions. Jana jerked her head sharply. "This way," she said roughly at Yamato, Axum and their men. "The Ichijoujans should be told of your presence." Without waiting for a reply, Jana strode off in a seemingly random direction. Again, Yamato and Axum followed.

Within moments, it seemed, they were all on the main road walking towards the approaching caravan. Again, Jana raised both of her arms and waved it over her head three times in what Yamato now recognized as a pre-set signal. In acknowledgement, the vanguard stirred. Yamato's sharp eyes saw several horsemen detach themselves from the front to speed back into the bulk of the caravan, even as one man, presumably the vanguard's commander, stood up in his reins and waved his own arms over his head.

"It's safe to go now," Jana muttered, as if to explain, then trotted forwards. Yamato nudged his horse forward as well as the vanguard opened up before them to create a path. His clothes, blond hair and blue eyes, which labeled him as plainly as a sign as a non-Taelidani, earned him curious glances as they passed, but nobody challenged them.

Yamato kept his expression carefully neutral, yet was unable to stop the stirrings of disquiet as he looked around. The men around him were tattered and bloodied, and their normally gleaming green Ichijoujan uniforms and armour were chipped, frayed and sometimes absent. There was order to their ranks, but the nervous glances the men kept directing at the woods around them betrayed them, as did the dull look in their eyes. These were men that had lost hope.

Behind Yamato, Axum stirred as well. "How many are left?" he asked tightly. Yamato turned to Jana for the answer.

Jana's eyes looked dead as she led them onwards. "The remnants of the First, Fifth and Sixth Imperial Corps," she said. "And about seven hundred Taelidani. Almost all the Lord-Captains in the Imperial Army have been killed as well."

"That leaves you with less than three thousand men," Yamato said grimly.

"Yes, I know," Jana snapped. "Why do you think we're running?"

"On the road?" Yamato said, meeting her gaze. "If we could see you ten miles away, so can the enemy. And you have three days left before the border."

"Look around you, Ishidan," Jana bit off as she gestured around. "We are not an army. We carry old, infirm, wounded. Would you have us leave them behind so that we can travel cross-country?" Her piercing gray eyes burned into his. "Khaydarin has taken many things from us, but they cannot away our honour."

Yamato followed her arm's sweep, and his eyes narrowed. Jana was right. Within the pathetic protection of the joint Ichijoujan and Taelidani army, he could make out civilians. Most of them were either very old, or very young, struggling along in weather-beaten carts and tired horses. In the cloud of dust, whipped up by the late afternoon wind, their tired, despairing features were coated with gray, making them look like walking corpses. In the distance, the wail of frightened infants could be heard over the creaking and rumbling of hundreds of farming wagons. Jana cast him one more scornful glance, then turned back to the road.

Yamato stayed silent. So that was it. He exchanged glances with Axum, and a silent moment of communication passed between them. These people are not going to make it.

Wisely, Axum kept his mouth shut as they moved deeper into the caravan. To take away what little hope these people had left would be to destroy them. Instead, they made the rest of the journey in grim silence. Soon, Jana had led them into the heart of the caravan, where an armed contingent maintained a vigilant guard around a lone wagon. As they approached, Jana waved again, and an officer spied them. Wheeling his horse around, the man heeled his horse to a gallop. Within moments, it seemed, he was drawing to a stop before them.

"Jana!" the man said as he dismounted quickly. "We weren't expecting you until dawn. Has something gone wrong?"

"No," Jana said as she shot a sidelong glance at Yamato, Axum and his men. "But you can say that something came up."

It was then that the officer noticed them. In a moment, his sharp gaze was looking them up and down. "Jana, who are these people?"

"Staven­-leader Axum Staja," Axum said as he gestured at his men. "This is my scouting party."

"Lord Matt of Ishida," Yamato said shortly as he dismounted. "We came from Ardinberg."  He did not have to look up to see the man's eyes light up.

"Ishida?" he said hopefully. "Then you have brought help?"

"No," Jana said flatly. "Apparently, Trakand didn't make it to Ardinberg. Emperor Takeru still doesn't know what has happened."

Before Yamato's eyes, the man seemed to shrink in on himself. His dark eyes lost focus for a moment as his shoulders hunched. "They…don't know?" his voice was a whisper.

"We are all that Ardinberg has sent," Axum confirmed.

The man was silent for a moment, then ran his hand through his hair. "The Creator wills what the Creator wills," he muttered. Then he straightened up. "Has Jana told you all that has happened?"

"She has," Axum said with a nod of his head. "And you are…"

A small smile creased the man's face. "Lord-Captain Talin, second to Emperor Ken Ichijouji," he said as he saluted wearily. "I wish we had met in better circumstances, Lord Matt, staven­-leader Axum, but I'm afraid-"

"I can help," Yamato said suddenly. "Let me."

Talin paused, then looked him in the eye. "Pardon me, my Lord, but you are only one man. What can you do?"

"If you show me Emperor Ken, I believe I can help combat the poison," Yamato replied.

"Our best healers are working on him. I very much doubt-"

"I would like to try," Yamato said urgently. "I have knowledge about Khaydarin poisons that…your healers may not have."

Talin raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Jana who shrugged. Axum however, stepped forward. "I suggest you listen to him," the staven­-leader said reluctantly. "Lord Matt has had…unique experiences with Khaydarin combative arts."

Talin narrowed his eyes at Yamato, then nodded. "Someone will take care of your horse," he said. Handing off his own horse to a subordinate, he gestured for Yamato to do the same. "Come with me. Jana, wait here with Axum."

Yamato followed the man as he trotted towards and climbed into the still-moving wagon. Inside, Yamato paused for a moment as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the hot, dim interior of the wagon-bed. Even before he moved further in, however, he could already tell he was in the right wagon.

The medicinal scent of herbs and antiseptics filling the interior could not quite mask the smell of vomit, blood and sweat. As Talin nodded at the healers' questioning gazes, Yamato sidled over in the cramped space to kneel beside the prone figure on the ground of the wagon. His lips compressed into a thin grim line as he looked at the pale, drawn face of Ken Ichijouji.

Yamato had never met Ken before, but the man before him fit the descriptions he had heard: a tall, lean man, with straight, chin-length dark hair. The faint smudge of stubble on the otherwise clean-shaven chin and cheeks was laced with pale-coloured vomit and blood despite the healers' best efforts. Slowly, Yamato reached out and removed the water-soaked cloth that had been placed over his forehead and eyes. The pale blue eyes beneath slitted eyelids stared unseeingly into space beneath the man's fevered brow. Placing one finger beneath Ken's left eye, Yamato pulled the eye open, and watched as the pupil contracted slowly and weakly.

"How long ago?" he said grimly.

"Earlier today," Talin said as he settled onto his haunches opposite Yamato. Placing his hand on Ken's brow, the Lord-Captain winced as he felt his Emperor's fever. "He was with…the rearguard, trying to cover our retreat. He's been running a temperature ever since."

"Who is the head healer here?" Yamato asked.

"I am," a woman in the back spoke up. "Mistress Nova, my Lord."

Yamato glanced at her, then looked back down at the drawn face of Ken. "Where was he struck?"

"In the upper arm," the healer said, nervously bobbing her head up and down.

"Did you keep the arrow?"

The healer looked insulted. "Of course." Crawling even deeper into the depths of the wagon, she rummaged around in the piles of herbs, medicines and bandages until she produced a long, cloth-wrapped cylinder. "Here it is."

"Pass it," Yamato said, holding out his hand. Talin wordlessly passed the cylinder along into Yamato's hand. Carefully, Yamato unrolled the cloth around the arrow, taking care not to prick himself with the tip, and held it up to the sunlight outside. Leaning in closer, he squinted. Was that a hint of purple he saw?

"Could someone give me a lighted lantern please?"

"It's broad daylight outside, my Lord."

"Just do it."

There was a hurried scuffling, then a scratch of flint on steel, and a small lantern flickered to life. Yamato accepted the small lantern and opened the glass cover. Then, with infinite care, he placed the tip of the arrow into the flame.

"My Lord, what are you-"

"Shh…" Yamato's steel blue eyes were fixed on the steel arrowhead. Talin's forehead creased in bewilderment, but he kept his mouth shut as he too stared at the flame. At first, nothing happened. The orange flame burned as it always did. Then…a faint trace of purple appeared in the orange.

Yamato kept the arrowhead in the flame for a few more seconds to be sure. When the purple colour increased, he hurriedly pulled the arrow out. Even vapourized poison in such small amounts could knock a man out. "He was poisoned with Magenta Yin," he said as he rolled up the arrow again.

"I've never heard of that poison," Nova said, frowning.

"Of course not," Yamato said softly. "It hasn't been used for more than five hundred years."

"Can you treat it?" Talin said beside him.

"No," Yamato said flatly as he stared down at Ken's pale face. "I have neither the knowledge nor the skill. But I can slow it down."

"For how long?"

Yamato bowed his head. "I do not know," he said honestly. "But I guarantee you, if I don't do something now, this man will die by nightfall."

Talin's face tightened as he turned to glance at Mistress Nova, who nodded surreptitiously. "How do you know all this?"

"As Axum said, I have some experience with Khaydarin combative arts. I've studied them at some length all my life," Yamato said, being careful to keep his face completely straight. Well…it wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth.

Talin looked back and forth between Yamato and Ken's waxen face, then took a deep breath. "All right," he said as he let it out slowly. "I suppose it's all right to trust an Ishidan Lord. I…the Ichijouji peoples…would be most grateful if you could…keep our Emperor alive."

Yamato glanced up at Talin. The man was not much older than himself, yet here he was with the weight of a nation on his back. He looked gray with the strain. "I will do my best," he said softly. "In a few hours, I should know whether he will make it to Ardinberg."

Talin nodded. "Make sure Lord Matt has our full cooperation," he said to Mistress Nova. "Whatever he wants, see to it that he gets it." Then with a swing of his cloak, he was gone.

Yamato looked down at Ken again, and took a deep breath. His talents had never leaned towards healing. What little he could remember about Khaydarin medicine and poisons seemed woefully inadequate in the face of this dying man. Not for the first time, he wished that Lady Hikari was here. If even a tenth of the rumours about her legendary healing skills were true, Ken would be up and walking within the hour. Still…he had promised.

"Please bring me a basin of water and some soap," he said as he took off his cloak and rolled up his sleeves. "After that, tell me everything you've done so far…"

**********

**Five hours later**

Yamato wiped the sweat from his brow as he carefully lifted Ken's hand and felt his pulse one last time. It was weak, but at least it was steadier than it was five hours ago. Lifting away the blanket covering Ken, Yamato checked the neat white bandage wrapped around Ken's left bicep. Then he placed his palm on Ken's brow and felt his temperature. Finally satisfied, Yamato leaned back wearily and reached for his cloak.

"Keep him under the blanket," he ordered the healer beside him. "And check his temperature every half an hour. If it goes up even by one degree, tell me immediately. I'm going out to report to Lord-Captain Talin."

Mistress Nova looked up blearily and nodded. Yamato felt a stab of sympathy. "I'll be right back," he assured her as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Then you can go get some rest."

Again, Mistress Nova nodded. She's too tired to protest like she used to, Yamato thought to himself as he swept his cloak about his shoulders and stepped out of the wagon. I wonder if she's left his side at all since he was struck.

Outside, Yamato stretched his tall, lean frame gratefully, then bounced around on his toes a few times to restore circulation to his calves and feet. The wagon was spacious enough, but it had never been built to accommodate three people and several months worth of medical supplies. He blinked as he looked around. Was it dark already?

He knew the wagon had stopped almost two hours earlier, but he had never paid it much heed. The caravan was stretched around him in all directions, and the glowing embers of cooking fires provided a soft, ambient glow to the ground. Beyond that, Yamato's eyes, which had been accustomed to the relative brightness of the wagon's interior, could see nothing except a ring of watch-fires around the camp's perimeter, the nearest one being perhaps three hundred paces away. Yamato tucked his hands within his cloak to shield them from the night chill, and leaned against the side of the wagon as he waited for his eyes to adjust. Report to Talin, he had said. But where to begin looking?

One of the four guards that Talin had assigned to the wagon stepped up to Yamato. "Lord Matt?" he said. "Is all well?"

Yamato inclined his head. "Take me to Talin," he said quietly.

The guard looked troubled, but he merely motioned for Yamato to follow him, then stepped off into the darkness. Yamato did so, relishing the cool night breeze against his tired face, and the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. Around him, a few soldiers looked up from their campfires, but let them pass unchallenged. In a few moments, the guard seemed to find what he was looking for: a brightly lit tent, larger than the others, that stood not too far from Ken's wagon. "Come with me," the guard said softly.

Yamato's eye fell upon the silhouettes cast on the tent's walls by the lamp inside. "Is Lord-Captain Talin holding a meeting?"

"Yes, my Lord," the guard said. "But he told me that he wanted to hear from you as soon as possible." He swept out a hand towards the tent's entrance. "If you will, my Lord, I must return to my post beside Emperor Ken."

"You may go," Yamato said noncommittally. Then he stepped into the tent's entrance.

The chatter of heated voices washed over Yamato as he stepped into the tent's brightly lit interior, and once again Yamato was forced to pause to allow his eyes to adjust. As he paused in the relatively shadowy shelter of the tent's entrance arch, he used the opportunity to survey the scene before him.

Talin seemed to be holding a meeting of some kind. He recognized Talin, Jana and Axum clustered around a table littered with maps and parchments, arguing heatedly. But with them were at two others, dressed not in the green of Ichijouji's Imperial Army, but in the richer velvet purple of the Court of Councilors. Curiously, Yamato's eyes were drawn to the tall, white-haired man that stood at the Councilors' front. Whatever else he was, he was important, if the gold-rimmed white sash that bound his chest meant anything.

"-to get off this road," Axum was saying, stabbing his finger down to the paper in emphasis. "Surely, you know how visible you are."

"And will the hills be any different?" Talin said doubtfully. "There is very little in the way of cover in these parts, staven-leader. And we would lose speed as well."

"Not if you follow this river valley," Axum argued, tracing something on the map. "Look, it leads all the way to the border, and it will only take several hours of hard march from here to reach it."

"We'd have to abandon the wagons," the old man said grimly. His voice was deep and gravelly, yet somehow soft-spoken. It was not the voice of a commander or a warrior. "Some of our wounded cannot walk."

"They can be carried on horses," Jana offered cautiously. "It would not be comfortable, but it would work. The real question is-"

"Our soldiers would be hampered in a fight," one of the Councilors said smoothly. "T'rakess, we've been over this countless times."

The debate had the sound of something that had been going on for hours, with no real progress. In any case, Yamato had had enough. He coughed into his hand and silence dropped like a stone. In a moment, every eye in the room was on him. Aware that normal human eyes could not see in the darkness as well as his could, Yamato took several steps forward into the light.

"Lord Matt," Talin said, a hint of tension in his voice. "Is…is the Emperor…"

"He is resting," Yamato said shortly. "I…I believe he will live through the next four days, though I am not sure. I am no healer."

Talin exchanged glances with Jana. "And…after that?"

"If he does not get to Ardinberg before that," Yamato said bluntly, "he will die. The poultices I have given him can only slow the poison down."

Talin's shoulders slumped, yet he still managed a wan smile. "I thank you. It seems that your research into the Khaydarin Arts may have saved our Emperor's life."

The old man looked back and forth between Talin and Yamato. "Lord-Captain, begging your pardon, but who is this man?"

"Oh, I am sorry," Talin said as he rose. "Councilors, this is Lord Matt of Ishida. He came in earlier today with staven-leader Axum, and he has volunteered to apply his expertise in Khaydarin poisons to help our Emperor." Turning to Yamato, he gestured at the tall, white-haired man. "Lord Matt, this is Councilor Micah, head of the Ichijoujan Court of Councilors."

Yamato turned to look at the old man. Now that he was closer, he could recognize the stylized flame insignia over his left breast that marked him as the head. Of course.

"This is Councilor Dinar, Recorder of the Court," Talin continued as his hand swept out to indicate the second man beside Micah. "They are here to represent the Court."

Yamato's eyes swept up and down Dinar in an instant. His black hair hung limply in long locks, and his narrow face had a sallow, unhealthy look. For all that, his eyes were as bright and inquisitive as a bird's, and they twinkled as he extended his hand in greeting. "Lord Matt, it seems Ichijouji is indebted to Ishida. Again."

"Not just to Ishida," Micah said softly, "but to you as well. I thank you on behalf of the Court and of the people."

Yamato inclined his head at the old Councilor. He could grow to like this man, but it was painfully obvious that he was a diplomat, not warrior. "Ishida considers it her duty," he said tersely. He had no idea whether it was true or not, but it didn't matter. It was certainly what Takeru would have done in his place. "In the meantime, what's our status?"

Jana shot a quick glance at Talin, who nodded. "We're following the main road…here," she said gruffly, tracing the long, brown ribbon with her finger towards the north. "We just passed the crossroads several hours ago, which means we're about…here." Her finger tapped a point about forty miles south of the Ishidan border.

"At the pace we're setting," Dinar said as he rubbed his chin, "assuming we are not caught by Khaydarin patrols, we'll be at the border in two days time. At Ardinberg in another day."

Axum snorted angrily. "Lord Matt," he said bitingly. "You are a military man. What do you think the chances are that they won't be caught?!"

Before Yamato could answer, Dinar cut in angrily. "We are not an army, staven-leader. We have wounded. We carry the very young and the very old. That's why the Court is here, to represent them. How many of them do you think can keep up if we leave the road?"

Micah placed a hand on the Recorder's shoulder and shook his head slightly. When he spoke however, his blue eyes were no less determined. "I'm afraid he's right," he said firmly. "The people will not go far without the wagons."

Dinar nodded. "So you see, leaving the road is not an option."

"This is not a democracy," Talin interrupted coldly. "The final decision rests with me, and I'll thank you to remember that."

Dinar whirled on the Lord-Captain. "But-"

"I have heard the Court's voice," Talin cut in. "And it has been noted."

Dinar glared for a moment, then subsided. "As you wish."

"So," Yamato concluded. "three days if we stick with the road and all goes well. How many if we leave it?"

Jana shook her head hopelessly. "We don't know," she confessed. "Another day, at least. More if our bad luck has anything to say about it."

"Then if all goes well," Yamato said, "Emperor Ken will live."

Talin nodded. "But if we're delayed…"

"Which we might be if we leave the road," Dinar interrupted.

Talin gave him a warning glance. "If we're delayed, Ken may…die." He looked around. "I don't have to explain what that might entail."

There was a brittle silence as everyone considered that possibility. If the stand-masters were to start falling, again, then Gaea was doomed. Without Ken, Ichijouji would truly be dead. There was no way around it.

Talin fixed his eyes on Yamato. "Can the Emperor be moved?"

Axum snorted. "Of course he can be moved. He was moved all day."

"You misunderstand the Lord-Captain," Micah said gently. "Can he be mounted on horseback, and moved that way? Can he be taken out of the wagon?"

Now, Yamato understood. "You want us to take him to Ardinberg for you." It made sense. Twenty men could move much faster than an army of three thousand with another three thousand civilians in tow, even if they were carrying an injured man. It would also be a lot easier for them to hide as well.

Talin sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. Yamato watched as the Lord-Captain looked at his hands, then spread them on the table-top as if trying to stop them from fidgeting. "Can he be moved?" he repeated in a low voice.

"I don't know," Yamato said bluntly. "The slightest exertion may strain his heart and kill him. I can tell you that he could not be moved when I first saw him. Now…"

"In your opinion," Talin said, quietly yet keenly, "do you think the risk is worth it?"

Yamato straightened his shoulders. "Yes."

Talin exchanged glances with Jana and Micah, then turned back to Yamato and Axum. "Then, please consider it a formal request on the behalf of the Ichijoujan Court of Councilors," Talin said formally. "Could you please bring Emperor Ken to Ardinberg as fast as you are able? The Ichijoujan peoples…would never survive his death."

The irony of the situation seemed to strike Yamato in the face. He had been sent from Ardinberg because the stand-masters did not trust him. Yet here he was now, precisely because he was sent away, being bestowed with a task of even greater danger. And it was all because Talin didn't know who he was. For a moment, Yamato suppressed an insane urge to laugh. No, he had to tell him. It wouldn't be fair to Talin if…

"We'll do it," Axum said calmly.

Yamato looked up slightly and caught the man's eye. The staven-leader's returning glare had a hint of warning in it, as if he was telling him to remain silent. "Rest assured, Khaydarin will never find us."

"Lord-Captain," Yamato said, still staring at Axum. "Before you ask me that, there's something you-"

"Yes, indeed," Axum interrupted smoothly. "Lord Matt has exceptional skills at tracking people, even those wearing invisibility cloaks."

Jana snorted. "After seeing him with those poisons, I don't doubt it."

Yamato frowned. "That's not what I-"

"Lord-Captain, if you'll excuse us for a moment," Axum said as he suddenly took hold of Yamato's arm and began leading him out of the tent.

Micah looked from one man to the other, and frowned. "Gentlemen, is there a problem?"

Yamato narrowed his eyes at Axum. "No," he said slowly. "No problem. Yet. If you'll excuse us…"

Talin nodded slightly in confusion, and Yamato allowed himself to be pulled out of the tent by Axum. Once outside, Axum crooked a finger, beckoning Yamato to move away from the tent. Once they were a safe distance away, Yamato rounded on Axum.

"I thought you were the one who didn't trust me," Yamato said, his voice steely.

"Think, Yamato," Axum snarled. "With you, Emperor Ken stands the best chance of making it back to Ardinberg. You're the only one among us who can sense invisibility cloaks. Without you, he stands no chance, even under our protection."

Yamato couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "Do you know what Talin will do to me if I don't tell him?"

"Do you know what he'll do to you if you do tell him?" Axum said heatedly. "At best, he'll retract his plea for help. At worst, you'll be killed. Either way, Ken will die."

"A peace through ignorance," Yamato said softly. "Is that how it is, then?"

"These are desperate times," Axum bit off grimly.

"Why are you vouching for me?" Yamato demanded. "Only this morning, you didn't trust me any farther than you could throw me."

For a moment, Axum paused. Then he sighed and swung his cloak about himself. "The way I see it," he said softly, "we have two choices. Ken can stay here. And no matter what Jana says, if this band of fools continues to stay on the road, staying here means certain death. Or, he can leave." Here, Axum looked up, and his eyes burned into Yamato's. "And have a faint hope of surviving. Even if that hope rests in the hands of someone like you."

Axum let out his breath irritably and began pacing around the dirt. "If you had wanted to kill Emperor Ken, you would have done so already," he continued. "You could have slipped him a slow-acting poison, or anything at all when you were treating him. So, the decision to trust you or not has already been made, however inadvertently."

Yamato smiled slightly in the darkness. "What you really mean to say is, it makes no sense to trust me with his treatment, and not with his evacuation."

Axum nodded. "No sense going back on a decision that's already been made," he muttered. "If disaster is going to fall, it's fallen already. Might as well trust in the Creator, stick it out, and hope for the best."

Yamato grin turned wry. "People are just probabilities to you, aren't they?"

"In war, you have to stay cold," Axum said as he began striding back for the tent. "I'm sure you, of all people, would understand. There's just one thing I don't get…"

"What?"

"The T'rakul could contact another stand-master if he was on the other end of Gaea," Axum said guardedly. "Why can't you just contact Emperor Takeru right now and have him send for help?"

"Yes, I was wondering when you'd ask that," Yamato admitted. "The truth is, I can. But then, I'd be overheard by every mirrireid-bearer within ten miles. If I did, I can guarantee you that we'd be attacked within half a day."

"You know," Axum said in frustration, "you're mentioning these 'mirrireid-bearers' a lot. So what, exactly are mirrir-"

The rest of his sentence stuck in his throat as, with the suddenness of shattering glass, a distant scream rent the air.

As both men whirled to the sound of the scream, the sound of a trumpet blast rolled over the slumbering camp. Neither man recognized the pattern of the trumpet call: four sharp blasts, pause, and repeat, but they understood the urgency behind it. Danger: enemy attack. All around them, men in various states of undress and disarray streamed out of their tents and began rushing south, where the blast had come from. A roar of confusion and urgency drowned out even the trumpet.

Axum and Yamato exchanged swift glances. Then Axum turned and began running south.

"No!" Yamato shouted over the sudden confusion as he grabbed onto Axum's sleeve. "Ken!"

He watched as understanding dawned in Axum's eyes. In an instant, both of them were running flat out for Ken's distant tent, pushing past the river of roaring men that flooded the other way. Yamato unsheathed his sword and held it low to the ground, so as to not accidentally impale someone while he ran. Beside him, Axum reached behind his back and withdrew his own blade, muttering a Taelidani epithet under his breath. All around them, the camp was going crazy. Civilians huddled together in groups, some on their knees with their eyes shut tightly in prayer, others running north in a panic. Frightened mothers scurried every which way as every able-bodied man seized a weapon and began running south. "Stay down!" Yamato roared at the women as he waved wildly with his free hand. "Stay down! Stay calm!"

Axum took up the call. "Get down, you fools!" he bellowed. "And shut up! Let the boys do their job!"

Neither of them paused to see if their cries had done any good. Soon, Yamato could see the wagon in front of them, with the healer's tent pitched nearby. When he did, a ball of ice settled in his throat.

"Stavik!" Axum spat. Even from this distance, two unmoving bodies could already be seen lying sprawled in the dirt. Ken's other two guards were fighting fiercely with a whole band of shadowy figures which blurred, shifted and disappeared altogether in the wavering firelight. Cloaked Khaydarin assassins. "How did they get there so quickly?" he shouted. "How did they know which wagon?!"

When Yamato didn't answer, Axum turned around. "Yamato?"

But the stand-master wasn't there.

Axum felt his heart stop. Frantically, he looked around as he continued running. "Yamato?"

But the stand-master was nowhere to be seen. And up ahead, another guard fell to the shadowy wraiths that danced, darted and shimmered around the wagon. In a split second, Axum made up his mind. Defend Emperor Ken first. Kill Yamato for his treachery later. Roaring, Axum hefted his sword and ran forward, aiming at the closest assassin's head…

A silver arc of liquid moonlight flickered across Axum's vision and the Khaydarin assassin's head exploded like a ripe melon. Astonished, Axum staggered forward, his sword scything into the already dead man's falling shoulder. Before he could pull his sword out, Yamato was beside him.

"Cover the wagon's entrance!" Yamato roared at him. "I'll take care of them!"

"You can't-"

Yamato glared at him. "I can see them! You can't!" And with that, he was gone.

Axum jerked his sword free, then sprinted for the wagon's entrance. With a single leap, he cleared the wheels and landed in the wagon-bed, his tall form already curling into a shoulder roll that brought him upright with his sword ready. Only then did he understand Yamato's strategy.

The wagon had only one entrance. The sides and front of it were blocked off with wood and canvas walls. If someone wanted to come in and kill Ken, they would have to approach from the narrow doorway through which Axum had just leaped. The doorway which he was now guarding.

The wagon rocked slightly beneath Axum's feet as the clatter of footsteps on hard wood touched on the staven-leader's ears. With a roar, Axum brought his sword down blindly on what seemed like empty air, and was only half-surprised when a blossom of crimson blood erupted out of thin air. As an unearthly shriek of shock and rage pierced his ears, Axum drew his sword back and thrust it forward as hard as he could. There was a jerk as his sword impaled the cloaked soldier. The shriek faded to a faint gurgle, and Axum felt the man fall backwards off his sword, even as his cloaked form suddenly shimmered into view.

Breathing hard, Axum readied his sword again. As he did, he risked a quick glance out to see how Yamato was faring.

"Stavik!" he breathed.

Somehow, in the midst of the confusion, Yamato had gotten hold of a Khaydarin scimitar. With his own sword in his right hand, and the scimitar in his left, his arms seemed to blur like a windmill gone mad as he swept through the shadowy forms. His blades trailed blood as they carved and slashed through their invisible targets and screaming figures fell away from him like chaff thrown from a fire. Axum's eyes, sharp as they were, could not follow him. The only thing he could see was a whirlwind of blue tearing through the shadows like a wolf through sparrows.

The fight was over in seconds. Suddenly, Yamato could be resolved again as he slid to a stand-still, looking away from the wagon. With a disdainful expression, he whipped his left arm forward like a striking snake, and the silver Khaydarin scimitar left his hand like chain lightning. One final scream rang out as Axum saw a brief blossom of blood in the darkness, and heard the heavy thud of a falling body.

A numbing coldness gripped Axum's spine. The man could have killed all of them in a moment if he so wished. After witnessing this, there was no longer any doubt in Axum's mind about Yamato's loyalties. As Yamato stooped calmly to wipe his sword clean on the tunic of a fallen soldier, Axum shivered. He had been careful to keep an eye on Yamato the whole time. It was a sobering thought to realize that it would have done absolutely no good if Yamato had chosen to betray them.

There was another trumpet blast from the southern front and both men turned to look. The sounds of a skirmish had escalated to one of full-scale battle, and it seemed to Axum's eyes that the orange glow of the watch-fires had brightened. Some of the tents must have caught fire in the confusion. He exchanged worried glances with Yamato.

"I didn't think they'd find us this soon!" Axum shouted above the frightened hum of the civilians around them.

There was an uneasy set to Yamato's jaw as he shook his head. "I'm surprised they took this long," he said tersely. "We should-"

"Lord Matt! Staven-leader Axum!"

Again, both men turned to see Talin riding his horse towards them. "There you are!" he shouted. "I've been looking for you!"

As he drew to a stop before them, he looked around and his face grew pale. "Is this…"

"Someone came to kill your Emperor," Yamato said tersely as he sheathed his sword. "We stopped them."

Axum grunted. That was an understatement. "Stopped" was not the word. And as he watched Talin look around at the corpses scattered around and over Ken's wagon, the staven-leader could tell that Talin was thinking the same thing.

"Is he alright?" he asked urgently.

"He is now," Axum said gruffly. Just to make sure, he leaned back to check on the Emperor's still form in the wagon. The man looked no better than the last time he had seen him, but he looked no worse either. "They didn't touch him."

"Good," Talin said. An explosion suddenly rang out from the south, and a dark violet cloud mushroomed into the sky. Axum stared wide-eyed at the cloud. He had only ever seen fireworks explode, and those were colourful, harmless bursts of light in the sky. Not like this destructive ball of purple. What was going on?

Talin cringed as he heard the explosion, but he didn't look back. The set to Yamato's jaw turned even more grim, as if he had been expecting this. Without pausing, Talin suddenly dismounted and ran up to Axum. "Can you take Ken away?" he said breathlessly. "Now, without delay."

Axum stared down at Talin. "Is it that bad?"

"You can't see them, can you?" Yamato said as he strode up.

Talin nodded. "Before, Khaydarin forces have always had to decloak before entering battle. But now…they seem to be fighting with their cloaks on."

"And you can't cope," Yamato said flatly. "No…of course you can't."

Talin looked ready to chew up his saddle in frustration. "Our lines are falling back. The men can't fight an enemy they can't see. I've set fire to some of the tents to create a wall of fire, but it won't hold for long. Either the tents will burn down, or they'll find a way around it. You have several minutes, at most."

"Several minutes to leave?" Axum said incredulously. "I need to gather my men! They're scattered across this camp!"

"There's no time!" Talin snapped. "Look, if you two leave right now with the Emperor, you'll stand a chance. I don't think they've managed to flank us. Yet. But if you delay, all will be lost!"

"And what about you?" Axum snapped back. "What about this army?"

Talin squared his shoulders. "We will hold them off for as long as possible. With luck, some of us may be able to escape."

"No…" Yamato's voice was almost a whisper. "There are not many of them. They are only a scouting legion. They haven't flanked you because they don't have the numbers to do it." He looked up. "The main army must be a ways off yet."

Talin looked surprised. "How do you know?"

"I know because I can see," Yamato said. As he talked, his shoulders seemed to slump in resignation. "If only you could see…"

Axum felt a pang of unwelcome alarm. Leaping down from the wagon, he grabbed Yamato's arm. "Have you forgotten the plan?" he hissed in his ear. "You're giving yourself away!" Then he noticed the glazed expression in Yamato's eyes. "Are you alright? Did they hit you?"

"I'm fine," Yamato murmured. "Just fine." And indeed, the expression on his face was one of intense concentration, not of pain. "Don't worry, the likes of them cannot scratch me."

But then Axum was shoved aside by Talin, who grabbed Yamato's arms. "How do you know all this?!"

Yamato remained silent. When Talin saw that he could not shake an answer from Yamato, he turned to glare at Axum. "You know about him, don't you? You two are keeping something from me. What is it?"

But Axum was silent as well. For a moment, the three men stood beside the wagon, ignoring the calls of battle. Then…

"The soldiers you are fighting are invisible because there are five mirrireid bearers fighting with them," Yamato said softly, "That's where the explosions are coming from. Even though there are only a hundred of them, you can't win. Tichon must really be desperate to stop you if he's willing to risk his bearers."

Talin's eyes looked hunted. "How…"

"Look, forget how he knows this for a moment, alright?" Axum snarled. "What matters is that this man can help. Here, now, if you'll only listen to him."

There was another moment's pause as Talin considered this. Then, slowly, he let go of Yamato's arms. "Is this true?" he said tightly.

Yamato hesitated, then nodded. "I know of a way…to save your people. All of them, not just Ken. It's never been done before, but I think I can do it. But afterwards…" he licked his lips.

"Yes?" Talin prodded.

To Axum's eyes, it looked like Yamato had made a decision. His blue gaze grew sharper and he straightened up. "At best, what I'm about to do will knock me out for three days," Yamato said quickly. "At worst…it may kill me. So listen carefully to what I'm about to say, because you'll only hear this once from me."

Talin paled and Axum put out a hand in protest, but Yamato rode right on through their questions. "After this, every Khaydarin army within ten miles of here will know where we are, but they'll also be completely visible. None of them will be able to cloak. So right afterwards, you need to run as fast and as hard as you can."

Yamato paused and took a deep breath. "Another thing. Emperor Takeru and the others will be able to sense this back at Ardinberg, so I'm fairly certain you can expect help, in some form, in under two days. So stay on the road, where they can find you." His eyes flickered back to the wagon. "It may still be a good idea to send Emperor Ken up ahead though. If all else fails, the blood must not."

"I don't understand…," Talin said weakly.

Yamato smiled and reached out to clasp the Lord-Captain's hand warmly. "You don't have to," he said slowly. "If this works, Axum can explain it to you in detail when you're on the road. And if I survive, I'll explain it to you myself." Then he let go and gave Talin a slight push. "Now go. Your men need you. In a few minutes, you will be able to see your enemies."

Still looking confused but determined, Talin stepped back, then saluted Lord Matt. "Whatever you do, Lord Matt, and whatever you're hiding," he said hoarsely, "you are a true friend of Ichijouji. You will live, because I will consider it an affront to my honour if I cannot repay this debt."

Yamato inclined his head slightly, and Talin turned, mounted his horse and sped away. When Yamato turned to Axum, however, the man was already shaking his head. "You won't get rid of me that easily, stand-master," he said crustily. In one smooth motion, Axum drew his sword. "Knocked out for three days? Well, rest assured. No Khaydarin scum will touch you when you're out." He bared his teeth. "I'll stake my honour on it."

Yamato laughed softly. "No wonder," he murmured to himself. "Takeru, I see it now. No wonder…"

Then, feeling blessedly free from any doubt for the first time in his life, Yamato planted his feet and opened his arms up wide. Axum was forced to shield his eyes as Yamato's stand appeared, brilliant electric blue in the darkness. The explosion of light dwarfed all others, and even the violent purple mushroom clouds around the camp were driven back, howling in shock, rage and fear. A howling wind blasted the nearby tents flat and people fell back all around the stand-master as his stand lifted its head to the heavens and howled. And as Axum staggered back from the light, he could hear a faint noise over the high-pitched crackling and swirling of blue light.

Yamato screaming in soul-rending pain.

**********

Halfway across the encampment, an Ichijoujan screamed in pain as he ran. It felt like someone had doused his entire head in burning lamp oil that pressed and seeped into his skin, burning away his skin and flesh and searing at his skull. Panting, he tore his cloak away from himself and flung it away just before the last of his strength gave out and he collapsed face-first onto the rocky ground.

Just before he passed out, his dimming eyes focused incredulously onto the white-hot mirrireid as it burned a hole cleanly through his cloak.

**********

Twenty miles away, Praetor Locke suddenly crumpled in his saddle as a crushing, burning weight crashed upon his head. Screaming, he fell, clutching at his temples in agony. "AAAHHHHH!" he screamed wordlessly through a blinding haze of pain. He could see nothing but shooting stars of pain. Feel nothing but the sensation of a thousand white-hot needles being pressed into his skin.

But curiously, he could still hear. He could hear the chorus of otherworldly animal screeches that rang out around him…

**********

On the thought-plane, Tichon recoiled in shock as a brilliant blue explosion engulfed the darkness, washing over the ever-present swirls of purple light. He watched incredulously as each violet spark screamed in the grip of the writhing blue lightning, flared uselessly against the overwhelming tide of energy, then imploded in flashes of blinding red light.

Then the burning blue wave crashed upon him, and Tichon howled as it seared away his flesh from his bones. Cursing and screaming in shock, rage and agony, he fled, his robes in tatters. Away, away from the blinding light. Away!

**********

One hundred miles away, in the Council chamber of Ardinberg, surrounded by delegates, kings and queens, Takeru felt an iron band constrict abruptly around his temples. His vision blanked out in a haze of red and a sharp shout of pain escaped him before he reached the state of Kenjitsu, Kohara and banished the pain of the assault. Even then, the agony threatened to overwhelm him. Clenching his teeth until his jaw creaked, he crumpled onto the table, his fingers digging into his temples, only barely keeping the burning sensation at bay. All around him, he could hear chairs scraping as the delegates rose, shouting in confusion. Marc was pounding on his back, shouting something incoherent. No, it wasn't enough…he couldn't maintain Kohara any longer…

Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The iron band disappeared, and Takeru slumped gasping onto the wooden table. "-re you alright?" he could hear Marc shouting beside him as he shook him roughly. "Call for the healer! Someone!"

"No," Takeru gasped. "I'm alright. I'm alright! And stop that! It hurts!" Still rubbing his throbbing forehead, Takeru looked up.

Before him was a strange sight. Each of the stand-masters had a cluster of delegates gathered around them, shouting if they were alright. As far as Takeru could tell, they all were. Kari looked as pale as a ghost, Yolei was nursing a bruised elbow and Davis's forehead was bleeding where he had struck the edge of the table on his way down. Even the normally stoic Cody looked more than slightly sick.

"What was that?" Takeru rasped as he pushed Marc aside. "You felt it too?"

"Are we under attack?" Aidan said in alarm as he stood up. "This kind of thing happened in Maitzin."

"No, it's not that," Kari said, reaching up to grab the King's sleeve. Her face was still pale, but she was gradually regaining her colour. "This is different. It's not dark, not disgusting. Merely…"

"There was too much of it," Cody coughed. "Overwhelming. It blinded and burned."

"Yamato," Davis growled as he picked himself up from the floor. "An attack?"

"I don't think so," Yolei said. Her voice sounded unnaturally raspy. "If he wanted to kill us, we'd be dead. And I don't feel any ill effects." Her glazed eyes began to focus again as she grinned wryly. "Aside from a splitting headache."

"Then what was it?" Bjorn called from his table. "What did you feel?"

"I don't know!" Kari admitted. "I…I've never felt anything like it."

Takeru nodded, feeling the blood rushing from his face again. He turned to Marc. "Get the army ready to move. Leave only a skeleton defense. They can march through the night."

Marc looked down in confusion. "And where, may I ask, do you plan to send them?"

"Send you," Takeru corrected. "I want you to lead them south, to Ichijouji, to see what's going on down there." He shook his head at the Knight's protests. "Please, Marc, just do it." As Takeru looked out on the confused delegates and the pale faces of his friends, his voice turned grim.

"And do it quickly. Something must have gone horribly wrong."

**Author's notes: Sorry this took so long. My excuses are as follows: Final IB exams, writer's block, summer job, writer's block, a week spent up in the Bruce Peninsula and in Ottawa, and did I mention writer's block? *makes a face*

Yeah…sorry again. I realize that I must have lost most of my readers, but it really couldn't be helped. *winces* I will do my best to make sure chapter 10 comes up faster…

(btw. This chapter is 33 pages in Word…)