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.

10. Seihad Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: I don't own digimon.

**Author's notes: Recap from last chapter. Even as the conference begins, Yamato finds the Ichijoujans and discovers that Halidan fell days ago. Ken has been poisoned, and the Ichijoujan refugees are being pursued in their flight across the Ishidan border. At the end of the chapter, the encampment is attacked by cloaked Khaydarins. Yamato does some weird thing on the thought-plane and everyone around him starts getting major headaches.

Seihad: Chapter Ten

By: TK Takaishi

**June 23rd, A.S. 522**

In the midst of the noise and the confusion of the midnight attack, Councilor Micah shuffled across the camp ground as fast as he could, trying to keep up with the lightning pace of the two guards beside him. Talin had ordered them to bring him away from the conflict, to the center of the camp where it was safest, but Micah wouldn't have been able to tell if the soldiers were leading him towards the fighting. The constant stream of soldiers and civilians staggered, ran and crawled past in seemingly random directions, and the roar of battle seemed to surround him.

"Come on, Councilor!" one of the guards cried. "Faster!"

"Humour an old man," Micah puffed. "I'm coming as fast as I can!"

Suddenly, Talin emerged out of the melee of running people. "Micah!" Talin roared. "Where are you?!"

"Over here, Lord-Captain!" one of the guards shouted, waving his sword above his head.

Talin saw them almost immediately and galloped over. Once he was there, he shook his head with relief.

"Thank goodness you're safe," he said. "The enemy made an attempt on the Emperor's life. I was afraid they would try the same thing with you."

Micah put a hand to his chest and tried to concentrate on breathing. "Ken…," he wheezed. "He's not…"

"He's fine, thanks to Matt and Axum," Talin said quickly. He looked at the officers beside the old Councilor. "Head north. The enemy is coming from the south. Stay with him at all times."

The two soldiers nodded, but Micah was not finished.

"Talin! You…you have to…take the fighting…away from-"

"I know, Councilor," Talin said reassuringly. He nodded at the soldiers, who both began hustling Micah away from the fighting. As they did, Talin whirled around. "All soldiers, rally to me!" he bellowed. "MOVE!"

All around them, green-clad Ichijoujan soldiers and brown-clad Taelidani fighters struggled to make their way to their commander through the morass of milling people. Talin stayed where he was, fighting the urge to charge the front madly. Instead, he turned south and strained his eyes. Yamato had said a few minutes. Which meant it should be…

Suddenly there was a brilliant blue explosion of light behind him. Startled, Talin whipped around. For a brief moment, the blue light flared like a miniature sunrise in the middle of the camp, blasting tents and scattering fires away with its sheer brilliance. Remembering what Yamato had said, Talin whipped back.

In horrid fascination, Talin suddenly saw five corresponding pyres of violet light flare into life to the south. It was like watching a fireworks display unfolding on the ground, except this display was flaring perhaps twice as slow. Talin had the presence of mind to shut his eyes and turn away quickly before the light destroyed what was left of his night vision, but he could not close his ears. Forcing himself to keep his eyes closed until he could no longer see the violet glow behind his eyelids, Talin flinched as otherworldly screeches of agonized shock raked across his ears.

When the glow finally faded, Talin opened his eyes. Before him, five burning mounds of…something littered the battlefront. A moment later, Talin blinked as the ground all along the front began to shimmer like air on a hot summer's day and resolved into a multitude of gray-clad figures wielding silver scimitars.

Just as Yamato said they would.

Talin wasted no time trying to figure out what had happened. "CHARGE!" he roared, lifting his sword high as he heeled his horse to a full gallop. With a collective roar of rage, the small but enraged group of warriors behind him charged. As they swooped down on the enemy, Talin saw several of them look up, as if it had just occurred to them that they were visible. On the closer ones, Talin saw an expression of surprise form on their faces. A very brief expression of surprise.

The Ichijoujan wave crashed into the flat-footed Khaydarin front and sliced through it like a battering ram through paper. Overwhelmed, black-armoured men flew away from the charge on all sides like the rippling crest of a wave. Talin gave them no mercy. Flailing systematically about him with his sword, he slashed through armour and shields, removing limbs and heads with ruthless precision. A second roar rang out from the front as more soldiers, finally seeing the invisible foe that had been harassing them, rushed out eagerly to get even.

The second wave broke the Khaydarins' back completely. The front dissolved before the onslaught as gray-clad Khaydarin soldiers struggled to get away, splintering into tiny groups that fled into the darkness. Talin pursued them for several hundred paces, cutting them down as he went, before he finally reined in his horse.

"HALT!" he shouted. "HALT!"

A ragged cheer went up among his soldiers as they watched the Khaydarins scatter before them, all traces of order smashed out of them. Talin watched for a few moments to make sure that the Khaydarins weren't simply retreating and regrouping for a second charge, but the enemy simply faded away into the darkness, leaving half of their comrades lying dead or groaning behind them.

Taking a deep breath, Talin turned back. "Reinforce the front!" he shouted. "Bring all wounded to the healers! Hop to it!"

As his soldiers scrambled to obey, Talin rode back to the camp, his head already full of strategies and priorities. First things first. He had to get his people out of here now; celebrate the victory later. The force they had just defeated had been little more than a task force. The main army must not be far behind. When reinforcements arrived in the morning…they had to be long gone.

"Angborn!" Talin shouted as he looked back and forth. "Where are you?"

"Here!" someone shouted. Talin looked down as the lieutenant hurried up, wiping his sword on the torn remnants of his cloak. "Lord-Captain?"

"Break camp!" Talin ordered. "Spread the order around. We move quickly. Everything that might slow us down, leave it."

"What about the tents?" the breathless lieutenant asked.

"Leave them." Talin looked around at the ruined remains of his camp. "Half of them are beyond salvage anyway. We'll be a little cold for the next two days, but that can't be helped."

"Talin!" someone shouted from the distance. "Over here!"

"The wagons?"

"Keep those," Talin snapped. "We're still following the road."

"We need help with the wounded!" another voice shouted from the front.

"Rally volunteers from the civilians," Talin ordered. "I'm sure some of them will help." In the melee, he spotted Mistress Nova. "How long will it take you to tend to these people?"

Nova ran an expert eye across the battlefront, assessing the damage. "Two hours," she said curtly.

"You have one," Talin said. "We break camp half an hour after that, so you and your healers had better work-"

"TALIN!" Micah shouted as he stalked beside the Lord-Captain.

"What is it, Councilor," Talin snapped, trying to hold his patience as best he could. "I'm very busy right-"

"Talin, it's Lord Matt," Micah rode over the Lord-Captain angrily. "You'd…better come see this."

Talin's blood ran cold. He had almost forgotten. Dismounting quickly, he passed his horse onto his lieutenant. "See to it," he said urgently. "I'll be right back to help." He waved at Angborn. "Tell someone else to relay the order. You're with me." Without waiting for the surprised Angborn to acknowledge, he followed Micah through the camp, winding his way past the queues and triage centers being hastily set up by Nova and her scurrying healers. Ignoring the thousand other voices that clamoured for his attention, Talin made a beeline through the camp to Emperor Ken's wagon, beside which he had left Lord Matt.

In moments, he was there. Talin slid to a halt beside Axum as he stared, stricken, at the prone form of the blond Ishidan Lord lying on the ground. Behind him, Micah puffed as he staggered to a stop as well; Angborn had to hold the old man up. But Talin's horrified eyes was focused only on the male healer tending to Lord Matt. "Is…is he…"

"He's not dead," the healer said. "But I can't snap him out of it."

"What happened to him?" Angborn demanded as he stared down in horror. "Was he hit? Was he wounded?"

"No," Axum said, shaking his head. "I…I don't think…"

But Talin wasn't listening as he knelt down to get a closer look. In the feeble light of the healer's lamp, Lord Matt looked pale, almost sickly. A thin sheen of sweat coated his features, making his skin look waxy and unreal. Putting an experimental hand on the man's forehead, Talin frowned as he felt the skin's ice-cold temperature. Everything about him, his heartbeat, his breathing, his complexion, everything was shallow, laboured and faded. As if he had simply run out of strength to keep himself alive…

"What can you do for him?"

"I can treat his symptoms," the healer said uncertainly. "Give him something stimulating. Keep him warm. But beyond that…"

"Go do it," Talin snapped. "Quickly. We owe our lives to this man."

As the healer ran away to look for a blanket and his medicines, Talin swept off his own cloak and laid it over the Ishidan Lord, tucking its edges in to preserve as much warmth as possible. Then he sat back on his haunches and drilled Axum with his most penetrating glare. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

Allowing Micah to hold onto his arm, Angborn stared back and forth between the two men. "Was…that blue flash. Was that…him?"

Axum stared hollowly at the lantern that the healer had left behind. In its flickering light, his lean cheeks looked sunken and leathery. Slowly, he nodded.

Talin scowled. "Staven-leader Axum," he said testily, "I know that we owe our lives to both of you, but I dislike secrets, and it's becoming painfully obvious that-"

"That man is a stand-master," Axum said woodenly. "His full name is Yamato, First Prince of Ishida. Don't ask me whether he's the Emperor, because I don't know. He was formerly a Khaydarin Praetor. Has been until about six years ago. That's how he knows so much about Khaydarin combative arts and tactics. He…defected to Emperor Takeru. He's on our side now, and we're damn lucky he is because if he wasn't, we'd all be dead." He looked up and smiled grimly. "Surprised?"

Talin couldn't speak. He couldn't even move. The world was reeling beneath his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Angborn's mouth working soundlessly.

"Wha…?" the lieutenant mumbled. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Whaaa…?!!"

"Pardon me?" Micah said weakly.

"He's…supposed to be dead!" Talin managed through his throat, which seemed to have tied itself into knots.

Axum looked down at Yamato. "That's what I thought too," he said.

"Well?" Micah finally seemed to have found his voice. "Then how can he be-"

"I don't know," Axum said, shaking his head.

"A Praetor?" Talin said incredulously. "A stand-master served as a Praetor?! Is that even possible?"

"I don't know why he served as a Praetor," Axum said in frustration. "I don't know why he changed his mind and defected. I've told you everything I know."

"I let a Praetor treat the Emperor?" Talin said in a slightly crazed tone. "I asked him to-"

Axum looked up sharply. "Lord-Captain Talin, with all due respect, whatever this man is, he is no longer a Praetor. I would think that he's made his loyalties painfully clear by now."

There was a tense silence as the four men stared at one another, then looked down at the body lying before them. Axum's hooded eyes flickered from the face of one to the other, the young, nervous face of Angborn, the old, seasoned face of Micah, and the younger, but dangerous visage of Lord-Captain Talin.

Finally, Talin sighed. "You're right," he said. "Whatever this man did, the Ichijoujan people still owe a blood debt to him."

Angborn stirred, as if shaking himself out of a deep sleep. "Then what do we do?" he asked, his voice marginally calmer.

"We need to get him to Lady Hikari," Axum said without hesitation. "This is beyond normal medicine to heal. Perhaps Lady Hikari, being a stand-master herself, can do something…"

"The Emperor needs help as well," Micah pointed out. "If I remember correctly, Lord Ma…Prince Yamato said that if he didn't get help within four days, he would die from the poison."

Talin rubbed the bridge of his nose in thought. Four days. They could make it to Ardinberg in less than four days; perhaps two if they were lucky and help arrived to keep Khaydarin at bay. But how long would Yamato last? More importantly, how likely was it that they wouldn't be attacked? Talin would be the first to admit that a second attack would be inevitable if help did not arrive soon. Would they be able to fend the second wave off? How long would it delay them?

He glanced sharply at Axum. "How long will it take for you and your party to take both Ken and Yamato to Ardinberg?"

Axum looked doubtfully at Yamato, who lay sprawled on the ground. "They'll slow us down," he said as he rubbed his chin. "Perhaps two days. Less if we really push…"

"What if you run into the enemy?" Micah said.

Axum grunted. "The Taelidani are good at hiding," he said flatly, as if that was obvious. "If we can't take them there safely, nobody can."

Talin didn't hesitate. "Angborn," he said without turning. "Go with them, and follow Axum's orders. When you arrive at Ardinberg, make an official request for sanctuary from Emperor Takeru and Lord Marc of Saldea, 'cause we'll be coming right after you."

He looked up and gave both Axum and Angborn a swift smile.

"Go," he said, nodding quickly. "You have my blessing. May the Creator illumine your path."

"And what about you?" Angborn objected. "Khaydarin's going to mount a second wave before you get to the border. Are you sure you can-"

"We'll trust in the Creator," Talin said bleakly. "It's no less than what we've always done. Now go!"

**********

Locke opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't. The pain behind his eyes was intense, as if someone had taken a blacksmith's hammer to his cranium. Repeatedly. Groaning, Locke screwed his eyes shut and put his hand over his forehead.

"Good grief," he moaned out loud. What…what had happened?

It was coming back to him now. He remembered getting a message from Praetor Mordaen about helping him to pursue the Ichijoujan refugees. He remembered going despite his misgivings that he was doing the wrong thing. He remembered the crushing, burning iron band that had crushed his temples, driving him screaming to the ground in agony, until sweet unconsciousness had finally washed over him. Unsteadily, Locke levered himself upright from his tent's pallet, trying to find his bearings.

"No, my Lord," someone said nervously. "You must not exert yourself. Whatever happened, you're still-"

"I've taken worse than this," Locke lied as he swatted the healer's arm away. Suddenly, he was aware of a low, dull buzz of urgent voices and running feet all around him. Locke forced himself to open his eyes again and train his bleary vision around him. He was still in his tent, and it was still dark outside. Someone had laid him on his pallet and spread a blanket over him. What was going on?

"I'll go find Centurion Yvan," the healer said meekly, and ducked out of the tent. When he opened the tent-flap, the dull buzz of urgent voices rose slightly, and Yvan saw a squad of his soldiers, fully dressed and armed, marching past. In the dead of the night. Resolutely, Locke settled himself back on his pallet and closed his eyes again, willing himself to relax. Yvan would explain everything.

He'd better, or Locke would have his tongue.

The tent-flap opened abruptly. "At last!" Yvan exclaimed as he slipped inside with the healer close behind him. Locke could not recognize his Centurion's face, but he could recognize his face. "You're awake!"

"How…long was I out?" Locke mumbled through a mouth that felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton balls.

"Only two hours," Yvan said as he swiftly knelt beside Locke and nodded at the healer beside him. Taking the hint, the healer left the tent. "But a lot's happened since then."

Locke put a hand to his pounding temples. "What…happened?"

"Perhaps you should take something for the pain?" Yvan suggested as he looked at Locke with concern. "The healer can-"

"No, none of that," Locke muttered through gritted teeth. "I need to be able to think. Just…tell me what happened." A fresh wave of pain pounded his head, and he groaned. "Softly…please."

"As you wish," Yvan said, obediently lowering his voice. "You remember being knocked out?"

"Yes."

"Well, you were actually really lucky." To Locke's bleary eyes, Yvan's face held an odd mixture of relief, fear and worry. "You weren't the only one."

"I wasn't?"

"All of our mirrireid bearers were killed. They suddenly started screaming in unison; then this weird violet light poured out of their eyes and mouth, just before they fell. There was no warning."

Locke felt a rush of…what? They had been puzzling over how to get rid of them. Now, here it was, some freak occurrence that he still didn't have a clue about had done the job for him. Locke only wished that he knew whether to be glad or apprehensive.

"Have you examined the bodies?" he rasped. "Found out what caused this?"

Yvan shook his head. "There's nothing left," he said. "Their bodies burned up. Just…caught fire and went up in a cloud of purple smoke." He fished around in his pocket. "The only thing they left behind were these."

Yvan withdrew his hand, which was clutching about ten or twelve silver pendants on chains. Locke watched in horrified fascination as Yvan dumped them on the ground and wiped his fingers distastefully. The mirrireid were almost unrecognizable, half-melted as they were. It did indeed look like someone had cast them into an intense fire.

"So we have no mirrireid bearers left?" he croaked.

Yvan shook his head. "None."

"So we can't cloak?"

"No," Yvan said. "We'll have to rely on good, old-fashioned hiding from now on."

"No bearers," Locke said as he leaned back in his pallet. Against all odds, he felt a weary grin break out on his lips. "Yvan, my friend, it looks like fate has finally dealt us a good hand."

"Perhaps." Yvan looked doubtful. "Though I still don't know what happened here, or even why you were spared."

"I've only received my mirrireid for a few months," Locke said as he unconsciously reached for the pendant he kept around his neck. "They've been handling it for years. And they were in active contact with the thought-plane, maintaining our cloak. Perhaps that's why…whatever that was…affected them more than it did me."

"I've got your mirrireid, sir," Yvan said as he produced it from his breast-pocket. "I was afraid that whatever it was might happen again."

Locke put his hand back down. Now that Yvan mentioned it, he had no intention of donning that thing again any time soon. "Good thinking." He rubbed his face as he tried to think. "Let me see…our next step should be…" He looked up. "Did you send out scouts? Try to see who or what might have perpetrated this attack?"

"They left two minutes after you fell, sir. All of them has since reported back. There is no army in wait, no sign of a follow-up to the attack. We're safe for now."

"What about messengers? To Mordaen, to tell them what happened."

"They left an hour and a half ago." There was a hint of reproach in Yvan's voice. "They should arrive perhaps an hour before dawn. If Mordaen sends a reply, we can expect it by mid-afternoon."

Locke smiled slightly, but said nothing as he frowned in thought. No bearers, a perfect excuse not to have to wear the mirrireid for a little while…

He looked at Yvan. "Are we alone?" he whispered.

Yvan nodded. "We can talk, softly," he said. "I made sure the guards are a little ways away, and I sent the healer off as well." The beginnings of a nervous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Let's not be too hasty,"'' Locke cautioned. "A single rider that escapes to inform Praetor Mordaen can still ruin us."

"Judim reported to me earlier tonight," Yvan said as he folded his hands together to stop their fidgeting. "Bakaul has joined us, and so has Lorne."

"So we have six out of the ten Decurions," Locke mused. "Not bad."

"However," Yvan cautioned. "Daerid tells me that he thinks Decurion Fora might be a problem."

Locke knuckled his forehead, trying to quell the pounding within. "I see," he commented.

There was a silence, then Yvan continued, his voice softer. "Praetor, with all due respect, I don't think you'll ever be able to gain the full support of your army. Not without a bloody battle that a mountain wouldn't be able to hide."

"Then get me as much of it as you can, Centurion," Locke said quietly. "Do whatever it takes. If Decurion Fora is a problem, then…" he hesitated.

A deadly silence fell between them. Yvan looked away and narrowed his eyes. "Then what?" he questioned slowly.

Silently, Locke cursed Emperor Tichon a thousand times for forcing him to stoop to such low measures. But this was war. A war for survival, for life and hope. There was nowhere to hide, no place for the neutral, no alternative except to kill or be killed. "I'll deal with him," Locke said distastefully.

"Praetor," Yvan said, a hint of warning in his voice, "some of the Decurions on our side are asking when we can abandon the pretense. Why do we have to march under this accursed-"

"We will not show our colours until I order it," Locke said calmly. "And not a moment before."

"Six tenths of your army are ready to move when you say so, Praetor," Yvan insisted. "If we catch the others by surprise, we can-"

"I am not prepared, Yvan," Locke said sharply. "And I am not eager to kill my comrades, no matter who they support. I intend to give them every chance."

Yvan knew a rebuke when he heard one. "Yes, Praetor."

Locke rubbed his head. Yvan was a good man. Just…over-eager at times. "We will reveal our colours," he promised. "And we will do it when it counts the most. Trust me Yvan, we will do our part yet."

His voice didn't sound trustworthy even to his own ears; it sounded more like the croak of a dying man. He really wished the headache would let up. But the words, if nothing else, seemed to encourage Yvan, judging from the savage smile on his face. Trying to focus again, Locke took a deep breath. "How many hours of darkness do we have left?"

"About two hours."

"Then we'll stay here for five," Locke slumped back wearily on his pallet. "Delay, Centurion. If nothing else, this attack has given us the perfect excuse to delay."

"The Ichijoujans should be marching by now," Yvan warned. "A five hour lead would give them almost ten miles."

Locke smiled thinly. "That's the point."

Yvan chuckled. "Get some rest, sir," he advised. "I'll advise everyone else of our schedule."

"Oh, but I won't be resting," Locke said. Reaching out, he took up the mirrireid that Yvan had deposited beside his pallet. "It's time to use the Emperor's weapons against him."

**********

Takeru peered out towards the pre-dawn gray atop a high balcony on one of Ardinberg's tallest watch-towers. The ethereal mist, yet to be burned off by the morning sun, stirred and wrapped itself around him, and the slight, damp breeze made him grateful for his cloak. Anxiously, he strained his eyes towards the distant forests and mountain passes, looking for any sign of life.

"See anything?" someone said softly behind him. Takeru turned slightly to smile in greeting at Kari, but turned back again almost immediately.

"No," he said reluctantly. "The mist is obscuring everything."

There was a moment of silence as Kari came up behind him and leaned against his shoulder. For a moment, Takeru could feel her channeling her stand to her eyes as she too directed her gaze outwards. Then she shook her head.

"You can't expect an answer so soon."

"I know."

"There are five lookouts that have been doing the exact same thing every hour since Lord Marc left," Kari added. "One more really won't make a difference."

"I know," Takeru said, an uncharacteristic hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "It's just…

There was a silence.

"…you're worried," Kari finished for him with a slight smile. "And somehow, you just have to do it yourself. Make sure nobody's messing up."

Takeru however, did not smile. When he looked down, Kari frowned when she saw the bags under his eyes, and his slightly ashen complexion. "TK…how much sleep did you get last night?"

"Not much," he said as he looked back out.

Kari waited.

"Alright, I couldn't sleep at all," Takeru confessed. "It's just…well, all our work these few years is either going to succeed, or be undone in the next few days. Whatever's happening…can't have come at a worst time."

"Everything's going to be just fine," Kari said, tugging at his arm. "Come on, the conference is about to start again."

"I hope you're right, Kari," Takeru muttered as he allowed himself to be pulled away from the balcony. "For all our sakes."

**********

Yamato opened his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was the sensation of being burned from within as he had unleashed the force of his stand across the thought-plane. When he had done it, he had expected several things. Either he would die immediately from the backlash, or Talin would kill him when Axum told him the truth, or…Talin would care for him. At least until he woke again. Since he was opening his eyes, he was most certainly not dead. Which meant…

But what greeted his eyes was not the familiar ceiling of a tent or a wagon. In fact, he was not under any covering at all. Yamato frowned as he levered himself to his feet.

The sky was stained red above him. Not with the fiery reddish-gold of sunset or sunrise, but with the deep crimson of burning blood that Yamato knew so well. The sun was quite simply gone. The red light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Dark clouds and shadows chased each other across the sky as if fleeing from the hungry, vicious wind that swept the land. In the distance, the heavy crashing of ocean  waves against the steep rocky coast resounded across the land, occasionally drowning out even the incessant screaming of the turbulent gale that buffeted Yamato's body. Yamato raised his hand to shield his eyes from the flying grit and sand as the waves of malignant red light swept over him like waves.

A dream? he wondered. No, not a dream. Everything was clean, crisp and real. The tang of sulphur in the air, the sharp grinding of gavel beneath his feet. A thought-shape?

No, that was not it either. He couldn't control it.

Caught halfway between a dream and a thought-shape, Yamato felt an irrational wave of fear, hatred and shame…oh so overwhelming shame…crash through him. Gasping, Yamato put a hand to his heart and forgot about everything. Why? some far off part of him demanded. Why am I feeling this? This heart is not my own! But it didn't matter. The rest of him was swept by the moment, engulfed by the alien consciousness just as the blood-red wind engulfed and buffeted his body.

As the blur of tears from the wind faded, Yamato saw more. The ground was frozen, pitted and rutted beneath his feet. The barren earth was dusty and scattered with the ashes of recently burned fields and charred corpses. Looking down, Yamato grimaced despite himself as he realized that corpses dotted the entire field. Unseeing eye sockets stared accusingly at him, their empty, rotting mouths open in fiendish grins that mocked and laughed at his confusion. The wind picked up the ashes so that clouds of black danced across the desert landscape, across the rolling mountains and along the ridge of a ruined, stone wall that snaked off all the way to the horizon.

Yamato's frown deepened as the faint whispers of memory turned the landscape from alien to familiar. The wall was scorched with burn marks, and its ramparts and stones had been blasted apart with engines of destruction so that huge sections of it had fallen into ruin, but the distinctive, snaking shape of it was unmistakable. So were the lookout towers that thrust upwards out of the wall every few kilometers, with the unmistakable hump of fire-ready beacons perched atop the ramparts. It was one of the Ichijoujan walls that defended the outer provinces from invaders. There was no other nation on Gaea that had defensive walls that long and broad. Even Khaydarin had had no use for defensive walls such as these. The rocky coast line had provided all the defense the Emperor Tichon ever needed.

But it couldn't be!

Ichijouji had green, rolling fields, and tidy farms; Yamato had seen them himself. The flat plains had seemed to stretch out forever, broken only by the jagged line of rocky cliffs that kept the raging sea back. He remembered peaceful villages and well-ordered fields of crops. He remembered the broad rural roads running across the land as straight as an arrow. The soil had been fertile, soft and dark. Not dusty and dry like this barren desert. The weather had always been mild, and heavy gales like this one had not blown across the nation for hundreds, or even thousands of years…

A great roar rose above the shrieking wind, and Yamato turned in surprise. The sound reverberated across the empty plains, swelling and thinning like the elusive wail of a far-off thunderstorm. Looking around, Yamato began to run up the low hill on which he had been standing on, and cursed as the sharp rocks slid and crumbled beneath his black-booted feet (since when have I ever worn black boots?) and the wind whipped his gray, serpent-embroidered cloak about him (I haven't worn this in six years!). As he reached the edge of the ridge, Yamato blew out a breath and was surprised to see white crystals form before his mouth. As the white cloud cleared, Yamato squinted his eyes and peered through the black haze that filled the air.

What he saw took his breath away.

A great pentagram, miles wide, had been carved into the dusty soil. The lines of burning red seared across the land like a bloody scar, the flames leaping fifty feet into the air or more. At each of the five points of the fell symbol, Yamato saw black towers sparkling with violets, reds and blues, trembling with the unimaginable forces that bound the symbol together. The sparkling colours leaped and danced hungrily from the tip of one tower to the next, like animals snapping at the crackling air. Yamato had to be more than two miles off, yet even from here, the light was blinding to the eye.

Yet what truly defied his wildest imagination was the middle of the pentagram. The storm and black clouds centered and twisted in a vast vortex around the center of the miles-wide rune, where the air seemed to twist, shimmer and fold as if reality was a cloth being forcefully ripped apart and folded back by a giant, invisible hand. Yamato felt his mouth turn dry at the sight, even as his mind automatically began to observe, quantify and catalogue. From this distance, it was hard to tell, but the rift was at least a mile wide, and a mile and a half high. The rift's ragged edges shimmered and shifted erratically, twisting and writhing as if struggling to close the hideous wound in reality. White-hot needles of pain stabbed at his temples, yet he was unable to look away. A horrible fascination had taken over his body, a fascination that pushed away the revulsion, the fear, and the pain.

Out of the rift, great streams of black poured out onto the land like an unstoppable flood of ants. The thunderous roar was louder now  as the regular, deadly roar  of war drums began to fill the air. Low horns and high-pitched shrieks of hunter-killers let loose assaulted Yamato's ears and nerves. They swept across the barren land like an unstoppable tsunami, now released to wreak its final havoc upon the free lands of Gaea. There was no resistance to meet them. The dust, ashes, and even the wind itself fled howling from the black-clad demon army's thunderous charge. When the flood reached the wall, the wall crumbled into dust before Yamato's startled eyes, the flagstones ground into finger-sized pebbles in the blink of an eye.

The roar reached deafening proportions as the wave of soldiers crashed across the landscape towards him. The ground was shaking now, heaving like a cloth being snapped repeatedly by a giant. Rocks and mountains split apart and crumbled under the onslaught, and entire sections of the cliff fell into the raging water, throwing up huge fountains of white water.

 Yamato shook his head as he stepped forward. A numbing despair spread across his limbs. Before he could think, his sword was at his side. He laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all as his familiar blue aura enveloped his body and his blade. One man against an army of hundreds of thousands. One stand-master against the world. Defiantly, he stood his ground as the roiling waves of black leather, gleaming silver scimitars and whirling gray cloaks bore down on him. As they neared, Yamato raised his sword high above his head, his eyes gleaming with battle lust. Glorious! Glorious!

As the tide of black swept over him however, Yamato found himself scything at nothing. The blackness of the soldiers turned into the blackness of night, as if someone had cast a stifling dark cloak over him. Struggling, Yamato flailed with his sword, spinning and tumbling over and over until he realized that he was not falling. The ground had disappeared.

Letting his body go limp, Yamato wrapped his hands around his knees and waited. Slowly, his wild tumble slowed until he felt himself stop. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the familiar black nothingness of the Perenic thought-plane, when no thought shapes were occupying it.

Instead, he saw the grayish crimson of dying sunlight.

Yamato took another deep breath. This time, the air was as cold as glacial ice and tinged with a sharp tang of ash and blood. The scent raised the hackles on Yamato's neck as it invaded his nostrils. It was the cloying smell of a battlefield. A smell he had sensed too many times in his young life. Around him, the land was no longer dusty and barren, but rimmed with the early frost of winter. A light layer of snow coated the ground and crunched beneath his leather boots as Yamato turned around to take everything in.

The ground had grown rockier, but less barren. Above him, the sky had turned from blood red to a leaden gray as the heavy clouds hovered so close to the earth, it seemed to Yamato as if he could reach out and touch them. A light snowfall descended from the sky, blowing and drifting on the wind until the veil of white obscured and blurred everything in the distance. Through the dancing snow, Yamato could see that the land had also grown more mountainous, the formerly gently rolling hills turning into steeper buttes and small fells. Copses of boreal trees dotted the tundra landscape, uniformly bent one way from the constant, stiff wind that blew in from the north. He recognized this as well. The Ishidan-Ichijoujan border, where rolling plains gave way to rocky mountains. Early winter.

The thundering of war-drums sounded on Yamato's ears and the stand-master turned. His heart leapt as he saw a great army coming from the north. The weak gray light gleamed from their armour and their bright lances like fire, their heavy cloaks whirled about them in the wind. Cavalry and footmen, supply wagons and siege weapons, archers and slingers, swordsmen and spearmen,  hundreds of thousands of them, swept from the high mountains with all the majesty and grandeur of the armies of old. Great banners flew proudly along the entire length of the vanguard, borne by swift scouts on tall, proud horses. Yamato spied  the gray of Sheid. The bright red of Fan-Tzu. The cyan of Jakt. The dark brown of the Taelidani. The silver and white of Yagami. And the royal blue and gold of Ishida. The greatest and best of Gaea, united into one unstoppable front. Yamato saw, and hope leaped in his breast.

Then an unearthly shriek shattered his thoughts. Yamato whirled around, and his unwilling eye was drawn to the sea of black that surged forwards from the flat plains of Ichijouji. An army greater and grander by far than the united free peoples of Gaea. He saw violent purple fire wreathed in smoke. He saw rank upon rank of shrieking hunter-seekers. He saw unending regiments of black-cloaked demons, marching with unerring precision across the despoiled plains. He saw silver steel upon writhing golden serpents. The soul-rending shrieks and cries of the bloodthirsty hunters echoed across the valleys, drowning out the proud ringing of Gaea's silver trumpets. As the last great stand of Gaea hurtled towards its doom, Yamato saw and all hope left him.

The blackness descended.

The blackness lifted.

Again and again, no matter where Yamato looked, he saw signs of warfare. The Saera desert, littered with the bones of the fallen. Ardinberg, collapsing in on itself in the flames of its own timbers as the screams of the demons shattered its walls. The green bamboo forests of Fan-Tzu crawling with black-clad Khaydarin like ants on an anthill. From the harbours of Yagami, he saw ships of war put out to sea, only to be sunk and gutted on the high seas by bolts of flaming lightning that lanced from the skies. Across the forests of Sheid, he saw armies of swift horsemen riding like the wind, rushing to their death in the teeth of the endless Khaydarin armies. He saw long lines of slaves, bound by chains, cruelly whipped and urged on long marches across the land as they were forcefully dragged from their homes. All of Novinha was aflame with a great fire that consumed entire mountains, turning the once green lands into valleys of smooth black glass.

Then the visions got worse. He saw Davis and Yolei fall in battle, leading their Taelidani warriors in a futile charge, buying with their blood a few more precious hours for the Shienar peoples to retreat. He saw Cody, his green eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling of his own chamber, lying in a pool of his own blood. At the border of Novinha, he saw Ken, naked save for a filthy loincloth, dragged into a square where huge crowds cheered and shouted as the headmen executed him with one stroke of his axe. Before the flames of Maitzin,  he saw viciously barbed arrows pierce Kari's heart as she stood defiantly in front of the already dying Takeru, shielding her lover from the hopeless odds with her own body.

"Is there no hope?!" he cried. "Even united, is there no hope of salvation?"

The blackness descended.

Yamato collapsed onto his knees, shaking with shock

It can't be true, his tortured mind protested. This can't be true. Khaydarin can't do that. They can't defeat all of Gaea, even if we are united…

He couldn't think around the ice that had frozen around his mind. It couldn't be all in vain. He had only just come to know the truth. It could not be snatched away from him again so quickly. The Creator couldn't possibly be so cruel…

He looked up.

The blackness had not lifted.

Shakily, Yamato looked around, not even trying to lever himself off of his knees. He doubted if he could stand in his current state.

A dream, the words brushed across his mind, though he did not know from where. Only a dream…

He looked down.

Although he could not see it, there was a ground here. Hesitantly, Yamato reached out with one hand and brushed the invisible surface. It felt mirror-smooth and as cold as ice. Shakily, Yamato looked around, not even trying to lever himself off of his knees. Yes, there was a ground here, but that was it. No more horrific images assaulted his brain. No more thought-shapes tortured his fevered imagination. The only thing that he could see on all sides was infinitely deep blackness.

Soon, the great conquest will begin. And no man, sword or army will be able to stand against the demons.

Yamato sprang to his feet and whirled around in alarm. But there was nobody there. Raising his sword to the ready position, Yamato turned in a circle, scanning high and low for any sign of a foreign presence. But he saw no-one.

If united they stand, then united they shall fall, for none can hope to stand against the inevitable flood. Their strong places are as sand castles before the coming tide, their armies as mere bands of brigands before the coming horde. Their war is without hope of victory.

"NO!" Yamato roared. "YOU'RE WRONG!"

But the voice continued as if it hadn't heard. Eighteen days, the voice continued, as if relishing every word. In eighteen days, the sangrias will be completed. In another week…and all will come to pass. Then it lowered to a whisper. But the future is only what may be. Not what must be.

Yamato looked up.

Until now, it had been like someone was talking to himself, gloating over the victory. It was as if he had been let into a stranger's dreams. But that last sentence…someone was trying to tell him something.

It was a warning. Hope lifted once more in his heart as he realized that there was still time. That there was still a chance, the slightest sliver of light in the endless gray horizon he saw in front of him. "Who are you?!" he called out. "And why are you telling me this?"

There was a long pause in which nothing happened. Yamato scanned the darkness. The sky. The infinite horizon. Nothing.

Then…

I didn't fight for Khaydarin. I fought for you.

The words sent an electric jolt of recognition shooting up Yamato's spine. He stared, wide-eyed, at the blackness around him.

"Locke?" he called. "Locke?!"

A wind began to pick up around the edges of his vision. Slowly, the ground began to dissolve around him, closing in a circle around his feet. Yamato felt his whole body tingle, as if a thousand pellets of ice were being pressed against his warm skin. Startled, he fought the sensation, fighting to remain on the thought-plane. In the thought-shape. "Locke!" he shouted. "Is that you?!"

Then the ground dissolved altogether as the tingling overwhelmed all of his senses.

**********

**June 24th, A.S. 522. Mid-afternoon**

A single liveried servant strode nervously down the stone-laid halls of Ardinberg and paused before the tall, heavy doors of the conference room. Quickly smoothing down his uniform, he conversed briefly with the guards posted around the door, who promptly opened the door a crack. Bobbing his head in thanks, the attendant slipped through.

Inside, the attendant paused for a moment to get his bearings. Several of the delegates nearest the door gave him indifferent glances, then turned away, absorbed by the King San's presentation on the balance of power to be set out in the Charter. Spotting the head table at the center of the circular room, the attendant walked softly along the carpeted sides until he was right behind the Ishidan table. Surreptitiously, he padded to Takeru's side.

"My Lord?"

Takeru turned slightly in his chair at the head of the Ishidan delegation's table to give the man standing beside him his ear, while still pretending to listen to King San's argument with Queen Ida about the Charter. "What is it?"

"You gave orders to be notified immediately if something was seen approaching Ardinberg," the servant whispered in Takeru's ear.

Takeru frowned slightly. "Someone is coming?"

"The lookouts sent me immediately," the attendant said, nodding in affirmation. "Twenty-three Taelidani, judging from their cloaks. We can't be sure, but it looks like several of their number are wounded. They're riding hard for our gates, and should arrive in a few minutes."

"Twenty-three?" Takeru muttered. "We only sent out twenty scouts, plus Lord Matt."

"The lookouts are adamant that it's twenty-three."

"Has the healer been notified about the wounded?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Takeru chewed on his lip for a moment as he watched King San slap the table for emphasis. "You did well to tell me," he finally said. Several of the delegates were already looking at him, obviously intrigued by whatever message the attendant was telling him, but Takeru wasn't ready to announce anything. Yet. Instead, he looked at the stand-masters.

Twenty Taelidani are approaching this fortress, he told them silently. Some of them seem to be wounded. Kari, can you come with me? Davis, you'd better come too. Yolei and Cody, stay here and keep an eye on things. I'll be back.

Takeru waited until both Kari and Davis had nodded. Then he stood up. "Excuse me, honoured delegates," he said. "There is a matter I must attend to. I will be back shortly."

King San stopped in mid-sentence, and fixed Takeru with a suspicious glare. "Is something wrong, my Lord?"

"No, nothing is wrong," Takeru said as he picked up the sheathed Ichibou and re-attached it to his belt. "Please continue in my absence." Ignoring the delegates' confused murmurs, he motioned to Kari and Davis and walked out of the room with the attendant.

"Return to your post," Takeru told the attendant when they stepped out. "If anything else comes in after them, tell me immediately." The attendant bowed swiftly, then hurried off. Takeru turned the other way and began walking towards the front gate.

"They're not supposed to be back yet," Davis said worriedly as he kept pace with Takeru. "Even Axum can't move that fast. I wasn't expecting him back for another week."

"Something's obviously happened," Kari said as they descended a flight of stairs. "If several of them were wounded."

"I agree," Takeru said shortly. "That's why I asked both of you to come."

The rest of their short trip to the gate was made in silence. Soon, they descended a second flight of stairs and padded down a stretch of corridor and found themselves in the main hall of Ardinberg. Takeru nodded at several servants as he passed, but did not stop to talk as he normally did. He walked straight to the front door, unlatched it and pushed it open.

All three stand-masters shaded their eyes as they walked out into the early morning sunlight. As they approached the front gate, Takeru saw and nodded at the cluster of healers waiting by the broad, bronze gates with four stretchers, ready to bear the wounded to the Infirmary at once. Several groups of soldiers were also waiting by the door, ready to assist in what way they could, while several lookouts shaded their eyes and peered into the distance atop the wall's ramparts. One of them turned around and leaned over the wall's inner ramparts. "They're here!" he shouted at the healers in the courtyard.

Takeru suddenly felt Kari's hand on his shoulder. "Takeru," she murmured urgently. "Can you feel it?"

Takeru paused as he opened his stand's senses, then exchanged grim glances with Davis. "Yes," he said curtly. "A stand-master's aura." Feeling more than a little worried, he stepped up his pace. "Open the gates," he ordered as he stopped beside the healers. Beside him, Kari and Davis drew to a halt and stared at the gate curiously as several soldiers worked the complex gears and ropes that pulled the immeasurably heavy bronze gates open. Once they were halfway open, the column of Taelidani horsemen streamed in.

Two of their number were slumped in their saddles, held up only by the rider with whom they shared their mount.

Takeru and Davis sucked in a breath of shock.

"Oh no…," Kari said in a stunned whisper. "Oh no, no, no…"

Then she was running for the column of men, waving at them to stop. "Bring the stretchers!" she shouted, heedless of the horses' dancing hooves as their riders drew them to an urgent stop. "Takeru, get Ken, I'll get Yamato!" Reaching up, she held up her arms and caught Yamato as the Taelidani holding him lowered him from the saddle. Slinging one of Yamato's arms over her shoulder, she carried him away from the horses and lowered him as gently as she could onto one of the stretchers the healers brought up.

"What happened?" she cried as she turned back to help Takeru carry Ken to another stretcher. "Oh, merde, this looks like poison!"

Takeru looked, aghast, at the faces of his friend and his brother. Both of them were pale as ghosts, their faces shiny with a sickly sheen of waxy perspiration. As Kari hurriedly wrapped them in blankets, Takeru laid a hand against their foreheads and flinched at the clammy coldness. "Can you help them?" he demanded.

"I don't know," Kari said as she hurriedly took off her cloak and rolled up her sleeves. Her face, normally so calm and composed, was pale with shock and fear, but Takeru had never seen her look so determined, or so focused, in all the years he had known her. "But I'm damned well going to try."

"Emperor Takeru! T'rakul!"

Two of the men from the column of horsemen dismounted swiftly and came running to meet the stand-masters. As Kari knelt beside her friends to examine them, both of them stopped in front of Takeru and Davis.

"What happened here?" Davis demanded as he stepped up to Axum. "Who did this?"

Axum exchanged glances with the other man. For the first time, Takeru saw that this man was not dressed in the customary brown and gray cloak and tunic of the Taelidani, but in the deep green of the Ichijoujan Imperial Army. His uniform was so splattered with mud, dust and blood that the lieutenant's stripes on his uniform's left shoulder was almost obscured.

"T'rakul Davis," the man said as he bowed graciously. "And…am I in the presence of the famed Emperor Takeru of all Ishida?"

Takeru nodded. "I am Takeru," he said shortly.

A look of awe and relief flickered across the Ichijoujan lieutenant's face. Without a moment's hesitation, he got down on one knee before Takeru and laid down his sword at the stand-master's feet. "I am Lt. Angborn Turion, of the Ichijoujan 1st Imperial Corps. I bear a most urgent message from Lord-Captain Talin of the Ichijoujan Imperial Army."

"Rise, Angborn," Takeru said urgently as he put a hand on the man's shoulder. "What is your message?"

Angborn rose slowly and took a shuddering breath…

Five minutes later, the doors of the conference room slammed open as Takeru stormed inside. "Honoured delegates, I'm afraid that I must adjourn this meeting until further notice," he announced without preamble, his voice cutting through the indignant babble like a knife.

"What?!" Bjorn rumbled as he lurched to his feet. "Why?!"

Cody leapt to his feet as well, but held his tongue when he saw Takeru's chalk-white face. As the other delegates stood up, shouting and arguing, Takeru spread his arms to silence them.

"Halidan fell four days ago," he said flatly. "Ichijouji. Emperor Ken is gravely wounded and near death, and six thousand refugees are on their way here with a Khaydarin army on their tail. I must tend to the situation."

Dead silence fell in the wake of his drastic announcement.

"Oh, stavik," Cody said faintly.

"I will call a meeting in an hour's time to update you on developments," Takeru said softly in the resulting stunned silence. "In the meantime…please…return to your chambers." He glanced at the Ishidan table. "Isendre, Corin, you're with me. The war seems to have come to us before we were ready." With that, he turned around and was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

**********

In all of its short life, Ardinberg had never moved so fast or so decisively. Scarcely twenty minutes after adjourning the conference, Davis's small contingent of Taelidani mounted their horses and spread out over the mountains to find the Ichijoujan refugees. Five minutes after that, the remainder of Ardinberg's armies rode out of Ardinberg's bronze gates with orders to make for the border and hold it in case Khaydarin decided to invade Ishida as well, even as the skeleton defense left behind prepared fervently for a siege. The underground shelters were opened and provisions were hastily stocked into them while swift, running scouts ran the length of the three secret passages that led away from the fort and into three different hidden mountain caves to ensure that they were still open.

Within two hours, an army of nurses, healers and volunteers had transformed Ardinberg's Infirmary into a triage center ready to treat the wounded that would surely flood the fortress when the refugees arrived. The beds were removed and their sheets spread on the ground so that more could be treated at the same time. Fresh linen and bandages were prepared ahead of time, and cauldrons of hot water were readied. All who were willing were given a quick course in bandaging and sewing wounds, as the team of healers there would surely be overwhelmed.

However, nobody could be said to be as busy as Kari. Without even bothering to change her clothes, she merely pushed back her sleeves, tied back her hair, and transformed from a calm, composed stateswoman into an intense bundle of focused manic energy. After swiftly preparing and administering the appropriate antidotes, she laid Ken and Yamato onto their beds and assigned a nurse to look after their symptoms. Then she waded into the thick of the triage preparations, industriously folding bandages, preparing poultices and sterilizing operation instruments. When the Head Healer finally noticed her and protested that a Lady such as Hikari should not concern herself with such menial tasks, Kari had fixed him with such a glare that the poor man took a step back. "When it comes to saving lives," Kari had said, "we are all equal. Lady or commoner, young or old, we all have our duty."

However, despite the gloom that seemed to have descended over Ardinberg, there were a few small pinpricks of light. King Bjorn of Sheid volunteered to send for help from his own nation, whose border was only half a day's swift ride from Ardinberg. Halidan was a large city, and Ardinberg did not have the resources to feed or care for all of its citizens. Gratefully, Takeru accepted the offer of medicines, food and protection, and the Shienar messengers rode out from Ardinberg almost immediately. Corin and Isendre both sent out for aid from their own provinces as well, and some of the Ishidan warlords reluctantly offered to commit their own forces to holding the Khaydarin pursuers at the border if they decided to come. Aidan and San both committed their honour guards, four hundred of the best warriors in their nations, to Takeru's command for the purpose of holding the border.

So it was decided. Scarce minutes after their first update meeting, messenger after messenger rode from Ardinberg's gates and bolted north, south, east and west, bearing urgent pleas for aid and news of the Ichijouji's disastrous fall. Joining them was a flock of pigeons that speared through the skies for their respective destinations with the unerring precision of arrows. Takeru watched them go from the heights of Ardinberg's towers with grim satisfaction. By this time tomorrow, every sect in Ishida would know of what had happened. By this time next week, every kingdom in Gaea would know as well.

By the time first dark began to fall, an intense, eerie kind of calm settled over Ardinberg as the last preparations were finished and everyone sat back to wait for the refugees to arrive. Davis looked up as he finished his last patrol of Ardinberg's walls. Checking the walls for battle-worthiness was a waste of time. The fortress was always ready for battle. As the light began to fade and torches were lit around the fortress, Davis checked the locks and shoring of the bronze gate one last time and strode into the main building itself.

He found Takeru in the hallways, talking rapidly with the chief provisioner, who was scribbling hurriedly in a long scroll. "-six thousand, at least," Takeru was saying. "Can we provide?"

The provisioner looked worried. "Not long, my Lord. We'll be reduced to siege rations. Nothing but bread and water for everyone except the delegates and my Lord."

"I'll take the siege rations, and so will the delegates," Takeru said harshly. "How long?"

The provisioner pursed his lips. "A week perhaps. We needn't worry about water. It's the flour stores that worry me…"

"Get your men grinding more at once," Takeru said. "When they get here, I want to be ready."

"Takeru," Davis said as he walked right up to his friend. "We have to talk."

Takeru gave him a harassed glance. "Can it wait?"

Davis cocked his head. "Well, yes. But honestly," he waved at the provisioner's notes. "Can't this wait?"

Takeru gave him a sharp look, then back at the provisioner. The man was positively wringing his hands, and he was already busying scrawling more notes and calculations on his scroll. "Go then," Takeru said. "I leave this in your hands." As the provisioner scurried off to his kitchens, Takeru turned to Davis, leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. "I'm listening. Go on."

"How's Ken?" Davis said worriedly. "Do you know?"

Takeru smiled briefly. "I just came from the Houses of Healing and managed to corner Kari for a few minutes. She's given Ken the antidote and he's responding favourably. She thinks he might wake up sometime tonight."

"Good." Davis closed his eyes in relief, then hesitated. The next question was thornier. "And…Yamato?"

There was a pause. When Takeru answered, his voice was noticeably cooler. "He'll be all right as well. Kari really can't do much for him except make him comfortable and give him time to sleep it off. She thinks he'll come out of it sometime tomorrow."

"Right," Davis said as he opened his eyes. "Does she…what exactly is wrong with him?"

"As far as she can tell, it's like he simply collapsed from exhaustion," Takeru said simply. "Like something had drained so much strength out of him that for a few hours he had trouble making his heart beat. But he's recovering, slowly. It might take a few days before he can be up and about though."

"Hmph," Davis grunted. "If I had set loose a blast that big on the Perenic thought-plane, I wouldn't have been able to move for a month."

An awkward silence descended between them. Then Takeru adjusted his cloak. "You didn't come here merely to talk about their welfare," he said bluntly as his impatient blue eyes bored into Davis's own. This was an Emperor at war. Well then, if he wanted to cut to the point…

"What are we going to tell the others about Yamato?" Davis said, lowering his voice to a hiss.

Takeru narrowed his eyes. "All the stand-masters heard Axum's briefing, Davis. I don't know what there is left to tell."

"Not 'us' us," Davis said, gesturing impatiently. "I'm talking about the delegates."

"What about them?" Takeru said, shifting his weight impatiently. "He's an Ishidan Lord that's researched the Khaydarin combative arts, and he was in the right place at the right-"

"Takeru, I've been talking to Angborn," Davis hissed. "Axum told the Ichijoujans everything. Lord-Captain Talin knows. Angborn knows. Even Micah knows. Remember him?"

The first hints of worry began to crease Takeru's forehead. "What? I thought we told him-"

"Remember what Axum told us about how Yamato ended up how he was?" Davis cut in.

Takeru's intense blue eyes burned into Davis's own. "Of course," he said curtly, and it was true. It was one of the first things Kari had asked when she had taken Yamato into her care. They had made Angborn and Axum repeat it several times, especially the sequence of events, and the stand-masters had mostly filled in the blanks with their own knowledge. They now knew where that blinding burst of pain last night had come from and what its purpose had been.

"Well, think, Takeru," Davis continued fiercely. "I'm not saying that Talin and Angborn can't be trusted to keep their mouths shut about his identity if we ask them to. But after a light show like that, the Ichijoujans are going to be asking questions. The delegates will hear them once they arrive. What are we going to tell them?"

Takeru remained silent for a long moment. Davis took the opportunity to look furtively down both ends of the long corridor. The closest person was a band of soldiers that hurried along the rough stone courtyard at the end on their way to their next post. Servants and porters scurried this way and that, much too absorbed in their respective tasks to take notice of two men speaking quietly in a dark corner. They were safe from prying ears. For now.

"How could I have forgotten," Takeru said, the first traces of anger surfacing in his normally calm voice. "It was obvious. How could I-"

"Well, nobody's asking, yet," Davis hissed. "But I'm reminding you now…"

"Have you talked about this to the others?"

"No."

"Merde," Takeru said as he bit his lower lip. "This isn't like me. I guess…we don't have a choice anymore."

"You're going to tell them?"

"How else can we explain away a light show like that?" Takeru demanded. "And we can't pretend we don't know anything about it either. Someone's going to put two and two together when they arrive."

"I'm not sure they're ready," Davis said bluntly. "You tell them who Yamato is, and half of them might leave Ardinberg right then and there."

Takeru paused, and his blue eyes narrowed. "Better they hear it from us, than they figure it out themselves and find out that we've been hiding it from them."

There was a moment of silence as Takeru's words rang between them. In the absence of words, the quiet chatter of busy soldiers and servants washed over them. In all that time, Takeru never took his intense gaze from Davis's face. Davis's face was flushed as he bit down on his lip and looked down.

"Listen," he said reluctantly. "I think I owe you an apology. I'm sure the others feel the same way."

"No you don't," Takeru said firmly. "You were-"

"I should have listened to you," Davis continued stubbornly. "It's precisely because of stupid words like that that-"

"You weren't being stupid," Takeru said as he grabbed Davis's shoulder. "Look, I've been doing some thinking. I don't want you guys to ever get afraid of making me mad. Because if you do, how will I know if, well…if…"

"If you're not just deluding yourself with half-cracked fantasies," Davis grunted. "Yeah, Takeru, you came close several times."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Takeru couldn't help but grin wanly at the quip. "That wasn't permission to walk all over me, Motomiya. You try and you're in for a rude surprise."

"Yes, Ishida, I found out the hard way," Davis said with a mock-grimace. Then he turned serious again. "You will not have to worry about our loyalties, Takeru," he said without a trace of a smile. "We're on your side, and we believe in Yamato. It's the delegates you have to worry about."

"We tell them," Takeru said firmly. "I've always found honesty to be the best policy. Now-"

"Emperor Takeru!"

Both stand-masters turned to see a soldier running up to Takeru along the granite-lined corridor. When he reached Takeru, he threw a hasty salute. "Fann, footsoldier, first-class. The lookouts have spotted them."

Takeru and Davis exchanged a quick glance.

"Come with me," Takeru said briskly. Then he strode for the main gate at such a burning pace that Davis had to run after him. "We have work to do."

Davis took a deep breath as he rounded the corner and set off for his Taelidani. Yes, work to do. From the looks of it, none of them would be sleeping that night.

**********

**Six hours later, June 25th, A.S. 522**

It was long past midnight when Kari stepped back from the operation table before her, allowing the veritable army of nurses and healers to finish sewing and cleaning up the ghastly sword-wound. After she had washed her hands free of the man's blood in the basin of now-cold water, she took a deep breath and brushed a stray strand of brown hair back behind her ear. Reaching behind her, she wearily untied the knot holding her hair back and allowed it to fall around her shoulders.

Despite the late hour, the hallways of the Houses of Healing were still well-lit with lanterns and candles as healers, looking as exhausted as she felt, padded this way and that treating the other Ichijoujans. Row upon row of injured Ichijoujans filled the ward, leaving only narrow trails between them through which nurses bearing bandages, hot water and disinfectant walked. The piercing tang of the soaps and antiseptics in the air could not quite mask the smell of sweat, grime and rot that permeated the air. To Kari's practiced eye, however, the edge of the controlled panic was gone from the room. The worst of them had been treated. All they could do now was give them a warm bed, food, and lots and lots of rest.

"That's the last of them," the nurse beside her confirmed as she glanced out the door and saw only a blessedly empty stretch of corridor. "Everyone that needs it has been treated."

Kari said nothing. She put her hand to her temple and swayed slightly. Immediately, she felt the nurse grab her arm. "Lady Hikari?" she asked urgently. "Are you quite all right?"

"I'm…fine," she murmured. "I just need to get some fresh air, that's all. That and about a week's worth of sleep."

"Yes, you do that, my Lady," the nurse said firmly. "We can handle the rest. The ministers can wait until tomorrow."

Kari couldn't really make out what the nurse was saying anymore. It all sounded like jumbled syllables to her. Somewhere in her exhausted brain though, a stray thought latched onto one of the nurse's words. "Ministers?"

"You've forgotten?" Now the nurse's gaze was genuinely worried. "They came, demanding to see you about Ken almost immediately after they arrived. You threw them out and sent one of the healers to talk to them instead."

"Yes," Kari said irritably. "I remember now. What about them? Didn't the healer show them to Ken's room?"

"Well," the nurse said apologetically, "several of them still want to talk to you. They're waiting in the Emperor's room. The stand-masters have joined them as well."

Despite her exhaustion, Kari felt a stab of guilt. "They're still there? Goodness."

"They can wait," the nurse said firmly. "You can deal with them tomorrow. Right now-"

"No, no," Kari said as she peeled off the smock she had been wearing, dumped it into a nearby chair and smoothed out the plain but serviceable white gown she had been wearing underneath. The brush of cool air against her sweaty skin felt like heaven. "They've waited this long, a few minutes can't hurt."

The nurse looked skeptical but merely picked up Kari's smock. "As you wish, my Lady. Don't worry about us, we'll finish up what's left."

Kari gave her a wan smile as she walked away. In front of the door, she paused and looked in the mirror. There were deep bags under her eyes and she looked as pale as a ghost with exhaustion, but that couldn't be helped at this point. Trying vainly to smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, Kari opened the door and stepped through. Walking along the corridor, she peered blearily at the labels until she found the next ward. She walked through.

As she closed the door behind her, she blinked as everyone in the room surged to their feet and quickly surrounded her. "Hikari!" one of the older ministers cried as he rushed forward. "I…is that you? Thank you, thank you!"

Kari's protests were muffled as the man folded her into a crushing embrace. Squealing indignantly, Kari tried to push her way back out, but the man didn't seem to notice that she was being smothered. "You cannot imagine what this means!" he went on. "I knew you could do it, child…I knew you could-"

"Excuse me!" Kari cut in desperately. "I…I mean…" As gently as she could she pushed the other man's arms off her and stepped back. "But, who are you?"

"Why, Kari, you must be even more tired than you look," Yolei said, sounding amused. "Don't you recognize him?"

Kari opened her eyes again, and stared hard at the man's face. The shock of white hair seemed familiar. So did the lined face. The old, bright eyes…

"Micah!" she exclaimed. Then with a sheepish laugh, she embraced the old minister warmly. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you properly in the candlelight."

"It's all right," Micah said, visibly holding back tears. "All right…"

Kari drew back to get a good look at the minister that had helped them so long ago. "You look exactly as you did when I first met you! You didn't age a day!"

Micah grinned. "I'm sorry, my child, but I really can't say the same for you. My, how you've grown! How beautiful you've become!" The old minister lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I bet rich and powerful young men are falling all over themselves to get to you first!"

Then both of them turned as Davis's snort of laughter interrupted the old minister. Beside him, both Yolei and Cody were giving Takeru knowing looks, whose normally calm face had turned decidedly pink. Micah looked at the silent Takeru. Then at Kari. Then back again. "Ah," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Have I happened on something? Some private joke perhaps?"

"Oh no, nothing at all," Davis spluttered as he pounded his chest with his fist. "I choked on something. S'all."

Micah squinted at Takeru with the stern eye of a teacher. Takeru stared back as calmly as he could, but his ears gave him away. Even in the candlelight, they appeared flaming red. An almost imperceptible grin tugged at the corners of Micah's lips as his expression turned from suspicion to bemusement. "Ah," he repeated.

"Now is not the time," Takeru muttered, abandoning the hopeless pretense.

Micah's grin remained, but he nodded in acknowledgement. "All right then, my son. You can tell me all about it afterwards. Every last detail. I have been young, you know? Once upon a time…"

"Good Lord," a voice rasped. "Micah, I never knew…"

Kari looked past Micah at her patient and felt her mouth tighten at the sight. In the single candle's flickering glow, the Emperor of Ichijouji's face looked pale and drawn; his steel blue eyes stood out in startling contrast with his waxen complexion, as did the alarming blotches of red that stained the white bandage wrapping his left arm from elbow to shoulder. Still…he was sitting up, and that was a good sign. Things always looked rosier when a patient managed to sit or stand up.

"Ken!" Kari exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"He just woke up not too long ago," Takeru explained. "You got here just in time."

"Kari," Ken murmured hoarsely. "It's good to see you in the flesh again. I just wish I looked…or felt…better."

"You shouldn't move," Yolei admonished concernedly as she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Kari said overexerting yourself could be dangerous."

Ken opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, then tried again. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Fine…"

"He looks fit to me, leave him be," Davis said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe Kari just wants revenge for all those times Ken's walked in on her and Takeru."

Cody snickered and both Takeru and Kari coloured. Micah leaned back, raising both eyebrows in an expression of intense interest. Hurriedly, Kari changed the subject. "Well," she grumbled, "at least your stubborn streak survived just fine." She sat down beside Ken and checked his bandages with a practiced eye. "How are you feeling?"

"All right," Ken grunted. "I suppose."

"That's the spirit," Kari quipped as she affectionately patted his cheek. "You'll be fine."

Another minister spoke up. "How long will it be before Emperor Ken recovers?" he asked.

Kari turned to address the other minister, then frowned as she tried to place the face before her. Like Micah, it looked vaguely familiar. The thatch of brown hair, streaked with dark lines. The angular face and lean profile…

"Forgive me, Hikari," Micah apologized. "I have forgotten my manners. This is Minister Dinar, Recorder of the Ichijoujan Court of Councilors. And minister, I believe that you know of Lady Hik-"

Kari snapped her fingers. "I know you," she said suddenly. "I never forget a face I've seen before. I met you at Sai Auia, when we presented ourselves to the Emperor for the first time."

Dinar smiled wanly. "How could I forget?" he said sheepishly. "It was the day I made the biggest fool of myself in my life."

Takeru shook his head as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Forget it," he said lightly. "We've faced far worse."

Dinar's eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "I…forgive me for my brusqueness. But the Ichijoujan Court of Councilors must know what to tell the people in the morning. When will Emperor Ken recover?"

"Yes," Ken said, his voice regaining its usual somber timbre. "What exactly did they get me with anyway?"

Kari sank wearily into a chair before answering. "It was Magenta Yin, a derivative of the Purple Yin poison," she said. "A neural toxin. It works by paralyzing its victim's nervous system so that the heart stops beating and the lungs stop working. If Lord Matt hadn't given you the poultice when he had…well, let's just say that beyond a doubt, he saved your life."

She smiled as she looked around. "As for when he will recover, it seems Lord Matt treated you before the poison could do any real damage. You should be up and about in a week's time."

Dinar leaned back and his shoulders slumped in relief. "That is certainly good news," he said.

"Yes," Ken said vaguely, in the same dead voice. "Good news…"

A moment of awkward silence descended in the wake of that. Kari exchanged glances with Takeru, who was sitting opposite her. They didn't need thought-shapes to convey their unease. This wasn't like Ken.

"Ahem," Kari coughed politely. "Minister Dinar?"

Dinar looked up. "Lady?"

Kari leaned over and murmured quietly in his ear, so as not to disturb Ken. "Minister, if you do not mind," she said softly, "would you be so kind as to find a servant and ask for a tray of food and drink to be brought to the Emperor? I do not think he has eaten since this morning."

Dinar hesitated, then bowed. "Certainly, my Lady," he said smoothly. "I will be back." Getting to his feet, Dinar exited through the chamber doors.

The quiet creaking of the chamber doors swinging shut on their hinges filled the room, then the door shut and quiet reigned again. Kari sat back and looked at Ken. "All right," she said. "You're among friends now, Ken."

It was an invitation. An invitation to rant, to let loose, to cry if he had any tears left. As everyone leaned forward to peer concernedly at Ken, Kari knew that they understood as well; for a moment Kari felt an almost overwhelming surge of pride and love. This was their family, and they were here to support one of their own.

But Ken did not cry. He did not shout or rant. If anything, his eyes grew even more sunken and unfocused, as if he was peering into himself. In the faint candlelight, he looked like a shadow of his former self; deflated until he resembled nothing more than a skeleton wrapped by a thin layer of skin. When he spoke, his voice was a barely audible whisper.

"My people?"

He did not have to say any more than that. Everyone looked at Takeru, who cleared his throat.

"They have been welcomed into Ardinberg, and have been clothed and fed," he said gently. "The ones that were wounded are being treated in this House. My men have set up campsites and temporary shelters in the fields around Ardinberg. Do not worry, they are under my sovereign protection now."

Ken shifted uncomfortably. "Micah?" he asked. "How many survived the crossing?"

Micah took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "Only four thousand survived Halidan's fall," he said, "Of those four thousand, five hundred more died on the journey from Khaydarin ambushes and pursuers. With what's left of our Imperial Army, we number approximately six thousand. We will have a better idea of the numbers in the morning, when we can conduct a more thorough count."

Takeru went over to Ken side and clasped his friend's hand.  Kari could see Takeru's hands trembling as he sat down by Ken's bedside. "Ken," he said softly. "I'm so sorry…. It was my fault. I shouldn't have-"

"You've never second-guessed yourself before, Takeru," Ken said dully. The rims of his eyes were red, as if he had been weeping for hours, and he sounded exhausted. But despite all that, his words remained encouraging. "You really shouldn't start now, this close to success."

"Still," Kari said gently, "we pushed you to it. If you didn't have to hold out until now, Halidan would have been deserted by the time Khaydarin got to it. None of your people would have died."

Ken shook his head. "No," he rasped. "They sneaked past our lines in their thrice-damned invisibility cloaks, came and took us by surprise, just like the siege of Palas. One day, my people just woke up to find themselves completely surrounded by a vast Khaydarin army, even though the front was still miles away. Nobody foresaw it, and nobody could have done anything about it. If I hadn't been able to summon the 3rd Corps from the western front to help me, I doubt any of us would have survived..."

"How about the rest of your nation?" Cody asked, troubled. "Now that Halidan is…there's nothing left to protect them. There are millions still within those borders."

Ken leaned forward, and rubbed his face with his hands. Yolei wasn't sure, but she thought that she saw a glimmer of tears in his face. His shoulders heaved with emotion for a long moment of awkward silence. Kari stood up. "Perhaps we should leave Ken alone for-"

"No," Ken interrupted suddenly. His voice sounded decidedly husky. "I will be fine. Just…give me a moment to gather myself."

Kari sat back down, and they all waited patiently as Ken took a deep, shaky breath. "I…I can only hope that Khaydarin would not simply…exterminate them. Even casting them into slavery would be better than that. For the pockets of resistance that still remain free…I pray that they know enough to run for their lives while they still can."

Ken's breath caught for a moment as if there was something stuck in his throat. He took another deep breath before continuing. "Though…I cannot imagine where those refugees would run. There are millions of them. What a mess…"

Cody stepped forward and laid a hand on Ken's shoulder. "We've been talking to King Bjorn of Sheid," he said. "In light of recent events, and because I'm throwing my weight behind it, he is prepared to accept Ichijoujan refugees into his country and into his sovereign protection. If your people are up to the journey, they can leave as early as tomorrow for the Shienar border and the nearest city, which is only two day's march away. And if we can get word out to the others still within the Ichijoujan borders, they would be welcome in Sheid as well."

"Bjorn?" Micah murmured. "He is willing?"

Davis grinned as he turned to the old minister. "Perhaps we should take it as a sign of progress."

Ken looked up, hope glittering in his eyes. "How is the conference proceeding? Has there been any significant steps?"

Takeru sighed. Cody shook his head. Even Kari looked down.

The hope in Ken's eyes faded. "I see," he said flatly.

"The conference hasn't ended yet," Takeru said with false cheer. "In fact, you interrupted us in mid-session. I'm hoping that your kingdom's sacrifice will show just how desperate our collective plight is. If this can't convince them, then nothing will."

"It all rests on tomorrow," Davis said as he leaned against the wall. "We'll see what their 'official' reactions will be, after they've spent the night discussing policy. This may sound cruel, Ken, but this may be the dose of reality they all need."

"I should have done more," Ken said, his voice ringing hollowly.

"You couldn't have known-"

"I should have done more!" Ken rasped forcefully.

Another awkward silence filled the room. Kari felt like she was suffocating in it, drowning in the despair that crowded out every last glimmer of light. Even the candle-flame seemed to flicker and stutter on its wick. Ken raised a trembling hand to his face to brush back his hair, and visibly composed himself again.

"This man…Lord Matt," he said slowly. "He…saved my life?"

Kari froze. Across from her, Takeru stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Yes," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "He did."

"How did he…find me?"

"When you didn't show up at the beginning of the conference," Davis said, "we got worried. Takeru asked me to send off a team of Taelidani scouts to see what was going on around Halidan. And…," Davis looked at Takeru, uncertain of exactly how much to tell Ken. "…well, Takeru sent Lord Matt to accompany my Taelidani, to establish it as an Ishidan team, if ever my Taelidani made contact with your people."

"They found your caravan on the road," Yolei continued. "They saw your dust cloud, actually, and went to investigate. And then…"

One by one, they filled Ken in on what had happened since he had fallen unconscious, from how he had been found by Axum and the others, to how "Lord Matt" had treated his injuries and slowed down the poison, all the way until the midnight attack by a cloaked Khaydarin legion. When they got to how Yamato had dealt with the cloaks however, they hesitated.

"We were attacked?" Ken said, frowning. "And they were all cloaked? How did we get out of that?"

"Well…," Davis said desperately, then looked at Takeru. "Takeru, I…we can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"We've been omitting something," Kari explained. "Um…Ken, this might come as a bit of a shock."

"Let me guess, this 'Lord Matt' comes into it somehow," Ken sighed as he closed his eyes. "How come I've never heard of this man?"

"Well…yes," Takeru admitted. "He…he set off some kind of explosion over the thought-plane. Big enough to kill anyone who was connected to it at that time. Since the mirrireid bearers were in touch with it at that time, drawing power from it to maintain their soldiers' cloaks, they…died," he finished lamely.

"I saw them," Micah interjected. "They didn't just 'die'. They burned up where they stood."

"Wait a minute," Ken said hoarsely. "He what? How did he do that? I can see how it's possible, but even we don't know how to do it."

"That's because…well…," Kari said, struggling. "It's…that's what we're trying to tell you. Matt is not a normal man. He's a…"

"A stand-master?" Ken said, incredulously. "He'd have to be, to pull off something like that, right?"

The silence that followed his exclamation confirmed his suspicions. Sitting up straighter, Ken glared around. "How is that possible? We're the stand-masters! There aren't any others like us in the world!"

"Well, no, that's not strictly true," Kari said, floundering. "Because you see, Lord Matt's real name is-"

Tap tap.

They all turned as someone knocked softly on the door. Kari shut her mouth with a click, then looked at Micah. Micah raised his eyebrows and shook his head. No, Dinar didn't know about Yamato.

So Kari said no more. Later, she warned Ken. Ken looked nonplussed, but he settled back into his pillows with a grunt. Yolei, catching Kari's nod, stood up and opened the door and admitted Dinar, who was bearing a tray of steaming food. He lifted the tray slightly. "Lady Hikari," he said.

Ken took one look at the tray and groaned. "Really, Kari," he protested. "I am not so weak that I cannot walk to the dining hall and dine there. Must I have my meals in bed like an invalid?"

"You can barely stand, much less walk," Yolei chastised as she took the tray from Dinar and carried it over to Ken. "You're in no shape to get to the dining hall."

"I apologize that I took so long, Lady Hikari," Dinar murmured to Kari. "But as you can imagine, the kitchens were all but deserted. It was difficult finding a servant who would prepare a meal for me."

"It's all right," Kari said soothingly. "We were still talking any-"

She froze in place.

"You don't have to be here, Minister," Micah said kindly. "You could have sent a servant to come up with the meal. Perhaps you should retire for the night…"

Dinar rubbed his hands together and cast Kari a strange glance. "You're right, you're right," he murmured absent-mindedly. He ran a hand through his hair. "Perhaps it would be best if we let the Emperor retire for the night as well."

"We will," Micah explained. "After he has finished his meal and asked all his questions."

"Yes," Dinar murmured. "Then I leave the Emperor in your capable hands, Micah." With a discreet nod, Dinar turned to go.

Meanwhile, Yolei handed the tray to Ken, who took it reluctantly. Sitting up in bed, Ken picked up the fork and twirled the silverware listlessly in his fingers. "I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"But you haven't eaten anything since this morning," she protested. "Kari's right, you should keep your strength up."

Kari closed her eyes and concentrated as she had never before. There was something in the air that had not been there before. Of course, she could smell the food, but there was something else. A vaguely familiar scent, lost somewhere in the depths of her memories. She stayed perfectly still, not daring to stir the air around her, as she searched for the elusive scent both in the air and in her memories. In frustration, she clamped her eyes shut and focused only on the air. What was it? Where was it?

Ken sighed. "If you insist," he said. Then he put down the fork and picked up a piece of bread with his hands. Breaking it apart with his fingers, he looked around self-consciously at the other stand-masters. When they all stared firmly at him, he sighed one last time and lifted the bread to his mouth.

"Stop!" Kari shouted.

Ken froze in mid-motion, just on the verge of biting into the loaf. Dinar froze, one hand on the doorknob. Everyone turned to stare at her in shock.

Kari felt numb with fear as she ran forwards. Snatching the piece of bread from Ken's hand, she cast it down on the plate. Then, grabbing the whole plate, she hurried to the basin of hot water the nurse had prepared, the horrible suspicion crystallizing in her mind with each step.

"Kari?" Ken said, bewildered. "What-"

"Wait!" Kari said. Rolling up her sleeves, she quickly selected some herbs from beside the basin, and shredded them with her bare hands. If she remembered correctly, then the aethilan plant would work. Plunging the roots into the water, she wiped her hands quickly and grabbed the candle on Ken's bedside table so she could have some light. As the roots began to soak into the water, Kari gingerly took the piece of bread that Ken had been about to eat, and immersed it into the water. Then she sat back and waited tensely.

In seconds, the water turned very faintly purple, as if a drop of dye had fallen into the basin.

Kari's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, merde," she muttered. She leapt onto her feet to face the bewildered stand-masters.

"Get Dina-"

But Councilor Dinar was already moving. With a strength born of blind panic, he knocked the surprised Davis off his feet with a savage roundhouse blow to the jaw. As Davis fell to the ground, Dinar lashed out with his other hand, and caught Cody a crushing blow to the temple. Reeling, Cody staggered into the wall as Dinar's hand reached into his cloak.

Takeru and Yolei's eyes widened as his hand came out clutching a seeker-bolt. The candlelight gleamed off the silver shaft and the long spring, powerful enough to shoot the steel-tipped bolt through an inch-thick wooden wall, groaned with a series of metallic clicks as Dinar flicked the safety off. Then, his eyes filled with fear, Dinar's arm jerked up convulsively, and leveled the seeker-bolt at Ken.

Time froze. Every second stretched into an eternity and ticked by with agonizing slowness. Too far away to do anything, Kari was helpless to do anything but watch as the horrible drama unfolded before her.

"No!" Micah roared. Shooting to his feet, he lunged for his Emperor…

Desperately, Takeru's stand materialized and sped for Dinar…

Davis rose, shouting, one hand drawing a kodachi out of his sleeve. Too slow…too slow…

Dinar pulled the trigger….

Blood splattered all over Ken's sheets….

A horrific scream shook the room's walls….

Then time snapped back to normal as Takeru's stand reached Dinar, grabbed him by the lapel and slammed him against the wall so hard that the wooden lining cracked. Dinar screamed as his bones creaked and the glowing silver eyes of Takeru's angel stand filled his vision. Weakly, he kicked his legs to free himself, but Takeru's stand was holding him off the ground. His legs waved impotently in mid-air.

Ken stared in horror and struggled to catch Micah as he fell backwards into his arms. The old minister's blood gushing from the horrific wound in his chest. Micah groaned weakly in pain as Ken finally freed his arms with a curse and grabbed him tightly. "Kari!" he cried weakly. "Kari, help!"

"No, no, no," Kari moaned as she hurried forwards and pulled Micah off Ken, laying him flat out on the floor instead. Yolei ran up to her with one of Ken's bed-sheets, which Kari immediately pressed around the ugly steel bolt still embedded in the old man's chest. "Someone go get help," Kari panted. "Quickly! Bandages, lots of bandages. Needle and thread… Oh, just tell them what happened and they'll bring what I need! We have to stop the bleeding!"

Yolei nodded. Then, springing to her feet, she opened the door and dashed out. "Where is the head healer," she shouted as she sprinted down the corridor.

Takeru ran forward to search Dinar as his stand held him still and found no other weapons on the minister. Then, his stand lifted the minister bodily and slammed him face-first into the ground with his arms locked firmly behind his back. The minister struggled vainly until Takeru made his stand lean forwards, increasing the pressure on Dinar's arms. There was an ominous creaking noise and the minister stopped moving.

"Cody," Takeru hissed at the young stand-master, who was still recovering from the blow, "help me tear his cloak and tie him up. Or if you can find any rope, that would be best."

"Coming," Cody said, shaking his head as he staggered upright. "Coming…"

Then all the stand-masters in the room froze as a chilling wave of slimy mud seemed to wash over them. Davis, who had been leaning on the wall as he rose, dropped onto his knees again and threw up on the floor. Takeru covered his mouth as his own gorge began to rise. Even Kari, who had experienced it before, had to grit her teeth together and clench her stomach. Everyone turned to stare at Dinar as a faint red glow began to envelop him.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!!" Cody roared.  Rushing forwards, he forcefully pushed Takeru's stand off of Dinar. The minister howled as he struggled, but he was powerless as Cody swiftly turned him over onto his back and pinned his arms and legs with his stand. The red glow surrounding the minister was brighter now, flickering like flames tinged with black. Takeru gasped as an invisible hand carved the five fiery lines of a pentagram onto the floor, the lines surrounding the two struggling men: the minister and the stand-master.

As the familiar wind began to sweep through the room, Cody scrabbled frantically at the man's shirt and cloak with his bare hands, tore them open, and reached in. With a furious flick of his wrist, he pulled the mirrireid from around Dinar's neck, snapping the silver chain on which it had been hung. Dinar convulsed as the chain snapped away, and his bloodcurdling scream rattled the windows of the room a second time. The wind died down as suddenly as it had sprung up. Furiously, Cody stood up, and his stand effortlessly flipped the man around and slammed him back into the ground, face-first.

"Thought we wouldn't know about that?" Cody gritted, leaning down to glare at Dinar as he leaned mercilessly on the minister's back. Takeru had never seen his young apprentice so angry. "Did you? You stavikan murderous son of a-"

"Forget him!" Kari screamed from the other side of the room. "Cody, just hold him for now! I need help over here! Hurry!"

"How can I help?" Davis said urgently, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. 

"Get a blanket and cover him," Kari snapped at him. "Keep him warm! Grab me that pillow! Bandages! More bandages! Davis, don't touch that bolt!! Oh merde, there's so much blood!"

Ken wasn't listening. He had slipped out of his bed, and was kneeling beside the minister, heedless of the hot red blood that he was covered with. Micah's blood was seeping into the carpet now, staining the white rug red. "Please, no," he murmured over and over again. "Micah, you didn't have to do it… it's not fair… Please…."

But Micah's head was already sinking onto Ken's lap. "Ken," he whispered. Then his lips pulled into the faintest of smiles, like the last defiant bloom of red on a fading rose.

"Don't speak," Kari said urgently. "Save your strength, Micah. Time enough to say anything once we've got this-"

"No…," Micah murmured. "No more time. Not enough."

Trembling all over now, Ken shook his head vehemently now. "Don't say that…"

But Micah didn't seem to hear. In the dim candlelight, it was hard to be sure, but Ken thought he saw the faint glimmer of tears in the old minister's eyes. "Not enough time…"

"No," Ken said desperately. "Kari will save you. She saved me. She can heal anything. You'll outlive us all. You'll-"

"…there…"

"Micah, I can't do this without you!" Ken shouted. "Ichijouji needs you! Hell, I need you! I order you to-"

"There!" Micah murmured. His clouded eyes lifted to the heavens, staring past Ken at something behind him. "Can't you see it? Can't you?"

"No…," Ken choked. The tears, which had not flowed at the fall of his own kingdom, at the death of his own people, began to flow now. "No…"

"Pity…," Micah sighed. "…beautiful…."

Then for a single lucid moment, his eyes cleared. He looked up and Ken was startled into silence by the quiet peace in his minister's old face. Slowly, Micah reached up and touched Ken's arm.

"My child," Micah whispered gently, "don't despair. You will…"

With that, Minister Micah Dornak, Head of the Ichijoujan Court of Councilors and friend and mentor to Emperor Ken of all Ichijouji, closed his eyes and exhaled his last breath.

And behind him, still pinned to the floor, Minister Dinar, traitor to the Gaean peoples, began to laugh.

**Author's notes: The story is beginning to wind down. Or up, to the climax. However you wish to view it. But the point is, times, dates and numbers are getting increasingly hard to keep track of. I've tried as hard as I could to keep the numbers such as dates, times and army sizes consistent, but if you spot mistakes or contradictions, please excuse them. It's part of what happens when you're kind of writing on the go.

As usual, if this was a perfect world, I'd have time to check over this chapter again, but I want to post before I head off to University on Sunday morning. Sorry again for the long wait! Right now, I'm writing chapter twelve. Stay tuned people, it gets really heated!

Again, reviews and criticisms are welcomed. For the loyal few who've stuck with me all this way, thanks and sorry for the long waits! For the many who've grown bored and stopped reading…I really can't blame you. *sweatdrops*