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.

11. Seihad Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer: I don't own digimon, and this fanfic will not be sold.

Seihad: Chapter Eleven

By: TK Takaishi

**June 25th, A.S. 522. One hour later**

Yamato opened his eyes.

For a moment, he thought that he was still trapped in the eerie half-calm between a thought-shape and a nightmare. The darkness that surrounded him was almost as absolute. But no…there was definitely something beneath him; he could feel the fabric of a mattress beneath his fingers and the stifling warmth of starched white sheets as they entwined his twisted body awkwardly. Pale light from the dying moon flooded in from the arched window above him and illuminated the unfamiliar walls of a…

…bedchamber?

His eye fell upon the basin of herbs and medicines beside him as well as the long rows of neatly stacked white bandages.

A healer's ward then.

A faint gust of wind blew in from the narrow window and raised goosebumps on his bare arms. Shivering slightly, Yamato looked down and was only dimly surprised to discover that he was completely soaked in cold sweat. His sheets too, were damp with perspiration. As another gust blew in and sent another wave of goosebumps rippling across his back, Yamato automatically hugged himself in a futile effort to stay warm. He was peeling off the damp covers when his memory caught up with him.

Sitting up properly, he put a hand on his chest and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. His mind reeled from the images that it had just witnessed. There is still time. The message reverberated again and again through his consciousness, driving all other thoughts from his head. There is still time.

As the seconds ticked away and his heartbeat slowed, Yamato slowly became conscious of something else on his senses. There were other people close by. In fact, beyond the empty healer's ward, a virtual sea of humanity surrounded him on all sides; and almost all of them were in pain of some sort. There was urgency. Desperation; fear and shock. But most of all…there was grief. A slight moan escaped him. Grief beyond belief, from so many hearts…all at once…

With an effort, he dimmed his stand's eye and the feeling faded. Where am I? Yamato thought to himself as he looked around. He looked down, and saw that someone had dressed him in a plain white gown which swung loosely about him with every movement. Who dressed me? Almost instinctively he cast about for his sword and clothes, but they were nowhere to be found. A twinge of panic shot through him.

Am I a prisoner?

Pushing himself up, he strode unsteadily away from his bed, cursing his wavering limbs the whole way. Stumbling into the door and fumbling with the doorknob, Yamato grunted with surprise as the unlocked portal unexpectedly gave way. Unable to stop himself, Yamato fell headlong into the corridor.

There was a frightened gasp. Yamato turned around, halfway into the dimly lit hallway, to see a young nurse scramble upright from where he had been sitting slumped against the wall. "My…my Lord!" he spluttered. "You're awake!"

Yamato panted for breath as he squinted at the man. His eyes couldn't focus, as if they had been coated with some thick plastic. What was wrong with him? "Where…," he rasped. "Where…"

"Ardinberg, my Lord," the nurse said as he jumped to Yamato's side and took his arm. Yamato tried to push him away, but stumbled and ended up leaning on the man instead. "Lady Hikari treated you," the nurse said as he guided him back into the room. "You arrived almost half a day ago."

"Ardinberg…" Yamato twisted his head to look at the man. "Hikari…she treated…"

"Yes. You and Emperor Ken. You should be resting…"

Yamato stopped at the door. "No," he muttered. "No time. I need…to see Takeru…"

"The Emperor must be asleep-"

"Then wake-" Yamato gritted, then he gave up. Pushing the nurse away, he leaned on the doorway instead. "If you want to help, go get me my clothes!"

"Should I tell Lady Hikari?"

"No need," Yamato said, waving impatiently. "I'll tell her myself."

A look of confusion spread across the man's face, but he knew better than to stay and argue with the irate stand-master. As he backed away, Yamato reached out for the thought-plane. Takeru? he shouted soundlessly. Takeru, where are you?

There was a long, tense moment. Then…

Lord…Matt?

It was an unfamiliar thought-shape, from an unfamiliar thought-plane communer. Yamato squeezed his eyes shut. Ichijouji? he said in wonder. You're-

Yamato? Takeru finally responded. You're awake?!

You shouldn't be up! That was Hikari. If you push yourself-

Are you alright? Yolei cried. You can still-

Then the others came. Pouring in, one after the other, an excited, yet tense clamor of greetings, questions… Yamato reeled from the onslaught. Stop… he tried to shout. It came out more like a wisp. Just…quiet!

Blessed silence fell like a stone.

We need to talk, Yamato panted. Something has…something is going to happen.

There was a pause. Then…Is it urgent? Takeru said, his thought-shape tinged with exhaustion.

Yamato took a deep breath and restrained himself. Did Takeru really think that he, Yamato, would be shouting his head off like that if it wasn't urgent? Did he not realize that every thought-shape felt like an exploding firecracker inside his brain? Yes, Takeru, he gritted. Urgent. As in right now.

Calm down, his brother said soothingly. You're not making sense. What's going to happen? How do you know about it?

The sangrias! Yamato shouted. It's going to be finished in eighteen days!

A clouded feeling of muted alarm and faint recognition immediately spread across Takeru's thought-shape. As his addled brain finally caught up with his mouth, Yamato realized that he had no idea why. Takeru should have no idea what a sangrias was.

If thought-shapes had expressions however, Davis's would have looked nonplussed. What's a sangrias? he asked.

That's why we need to talk! Yamato all but roared. Takeru, we-

Yamato, Kari cut in bluntly, her thought-shape sounding strained. Councilor Micah was just murdered an hour ago.

The world shook. …what…? Yamato asked weakly. We're in Ardinberg. How…how did it…

You remember Dinar? Cody interjected.

Yamato nodded over the plane. A horrible suspicion began to settle in his stomach. Did he…

He tried to kill Ken, but Micah…

Another pause. Yamato couldn't speak past the throbbing waves of black at the edge of his vision that threatened to overwhelm him.

As if sensing his brother's shock, Takeru began speaking slowly and deliberately. Yamato, stay where you are, we'll be right there.

Takeru was as good as his word. In two minutes, the six of them appeared at the end of the corridor, hurrying past startled nurses and healers as they went about their midnight rounds with the patients. Seeing them, Yamato braced himself against the wall and struggled to get up, but Kari reached him first and pushed him back down.

"You just stay right there," she scolded him softly but firmly. "You shouldn't even be out of bed."

"You're as bad as your nurse," Yamato grunted as he swatted her hand away.

"And you are as bad as Ken," Kari said as she glanced at Ken. For the first time, Yamato noticed that the man was trembling and leaning on a cane. "So don't think you'll get rid of me that easily."

"We don't have time for-"

"You try to get up by yourself and you just might knock yourself out," Kari retorted tartly. "And, according to you, we can't afford the time to wake you up."

"In other words," Davis inserted helpfully, "shut up and listen to healer's orders."

"We can't talk here," Yamato objected hoarsely.

Takeru looked around. Yamato was right. The unexpected presence of all six stand-masters in the healer's ward at this hour was already attracting the attention of everyone nearby. It was not that a crowd was gathering, but everyone was shooting them curious and reverent glances. No, they could not talk here.

"One of the conference rooms then," Takeru said as he crouched next to Yamato. "If you leaned on me, can you walk?"

When Yamato nodded, Takeru wordlessly slung one of Yamato's arms over his shoulders and stood up slowly, letting Yamato rest his full weight on his body. When they were both upright, Takeru beckoned to the others with a flick of his head. "Come," he said brusquely and strode off without waiting.

To Yamato, the semi-familiar corridors seemed to pass in a blur, as if they were not passing at all. Stumbling along beside Takeru, his muddled mind automatically collected random sights and instinctively processed them for any nugget of information.

The healer's ward was not simply full with wounded, it was overflowing. The corridors outside were jammed from end to end with hastily made pallets of sheets, on which were resting patients with varying degrees of injuries. Despite the late hour, an air of tension surrounded the entire fortress; patrols of soldiers, not all wearing the same uniform, trotted along the battlements and courtyards periodically, nervously staring out into the black unknown. Once, as they passed one of the narrow windows overlooking the southern wall, Yamato glimpsed a sea of watch and cook-fires spreading beyond the wall and out over the rolling plain between the fortress walls and the edge of the Ishidan forest.

"The Ichijoujans made it?" he murmured beside Takeru. "All of them?"

He felt Takeru turn his head to look at him. "Yes," his brother said, not without a touch of gratitude. "They're under my protection now." Then… "We're here."

This part of the fortress was deserted. There were no debates or councils to be held at this hour, and even the ever-present guards did not bother to patrol this level, which held nothing but conference chambers. Only ever second wall scone held a lit torch. Ken opened the chamber doors and stepped through. One by one, they filed into it.

It was the chamber where the stand-masters had first met Yamato. As the weary and grief-stricken stand-masters settled themselves into the high-backed chairs around the mahogany table, they watched as Takeru carefully guided Yamato into a chair, then prowled the edges of the room to ensure that the doors were locked and the windows were barred. When both chamber doors had been closed and locked, Takeru padded over to a side cabinet for servants and withdrew flint and steel. He tossed them to Kari.

As Kari deftly struck them together and lit the candlesticks on the table, Takeru quietly closed the curtains over the high, arched windows overlooking the central courtyard. As the cold, hard light of the moon was replaced by the weak but warm candle-light, he turned back. Striding quickly to the head of the table, he did not sit down, but placed his hands on the tall back of the chair in front of him and regarded the others.

"What happened to Micah?" Yamato asked urgently.

Takeru's face seemed to age before Yamato's eyes as he glanced at Ken. Yamato followed his gaze to where the Ichijoujan Emperor sat stiffly in his chair like a pale wax doll, utterly inhuman in his rigidity. When Ken said nothing, Takeru sighed, drew back his chair and sat down.

"Allow me to explain."

Silence reigned as Takeru concisely laid bare everything he knew from the flight of the Ichijoujans across the Ishidan border to the dramatic arrival of Axum and his wounded to the lack of progress on the Council. His words trembled with crystal clarity on the still, silent air of the conference, as stark and grim as their message. When Takeru got to Micah's death, his voice broke slightly and he cast an apologetic glance at Ken, but when the Emperor still said nothing, he forged on.

"Dinar's in our custody now," Takeru finished. "He and his mirrireid are under separate guard. We can deal with him in the morning. Meanwhile, the healers are preparing Councilor Micah's body for…burial."

With that, Takeru trailed off and the tense silence, held at bay by his calm, methodical voice, surged back with a vengeance. Unwittingly, Yamato found himself looking not at Takeru but at Ken, whose pale face registered…absolutely nothing.

"I'm sorry," Yamato said softly. He had not known Micah well, as the others did, but he did not have to be a stand-master to sense the intense grief, fresh and sharp, that filled the room. Even to him, the small sound seemed pitifully inadequate.

"What is done is done," Cody said harshly. "What is so urgent that it cannot wait until morning?"

Yolei frowned. "Show a little empathy, will you?" she said sharply. "Do you not care? Don't tell me you-"

"People die around us everyday." Cody's voice chilled all of them. "If we can't deal with it, we have no business leading anyone."

Yolei flushed. "You're wrong," she said tightly. "I'm not you, I can't just cut out…"

"Yolei," Kari said worriedly. "It's-"

"I didn't 'cut out' anything," Cody replied tautly, an edge of rising anger in his voice. "I'm just saying that that this is not the time for grief."

"Not even a moment?" Yolei demanded. "For pity's sake-"

"Yolei, stop, you're not helping," Takeru cut in firmly.

It was the wrong thing to say. Yolei's eyes flared as she snapped, "Takeru, since when did you start ordering me? I'm not another queen, I am a stand-master, and I won't-"

"I think," Davis said worriedly as he put a hand on her shoulder, "that you should calm down, Yolei, before you start saying stuff you don't-"

"What is the matter with all of you?" Yolei shrieked. "Micah just died! Do none of you CARE?!!"

There was a silence after that. Again, everyone glanced at Ken and just as discreetly looked away.

"It's not that we don't care, Lady Yolei," Yamato said, choosing his words carefully. "But I promise you, if you don't listen to me now, you…we are going to lose this war in less than a month."

That got their attention. Cody, Davis and Kari sat up straighter in their chairs. Takeru drilled Yamato with a hard glare. Even Ken, who had not said a word so far, seemed shaken slightly out of his stupor.

"What?" Takeru said sharply. "What do you mean?"

"We've survived this long," Davis said heatedly. "I think, Yamato, that you're underestimating us a little."

But Yamato was already shaking his head before either of them had finished. "You don't understand. It's not that I think we'll lose this war. I know we'll lose this war." He hesitated, then glanced at Ken. "Um…does he…"

"Do I know who you are?" Ken said, his voice flat. A collective chill gripped everyone in the room at the ice-cold edge of tightly controlled despair in his tone, his eyes. "Yes, Praetor, you may speak freely. Takeru has explained everything to me already."

Yamato cleared his throat. "Very well…"

"The sangrias is going to be finished in eighteen days," he said bluntly. "When it's fully operational, and it will be within twenty-five days at the most, Tichon's armies will be able to move directly from Akeldama onto Ichijouji."

Again, there was a flicker of recognition and alarm, mixed with puzzlement, in Takeru's eyes. Again, Takeru steepled his hands and remained silent. Before Yamato could question him about it though, Cody was already shaking his head. "We have never heard of…a sangrias…whatever that is," he said. "And what do you mean 'move directly'?"

"More to the point," Davis said, narrowing his eyes at Yamato, "how do you know all this? And if you knew all along, why didn't you tell us at the beginning?"

"That's because I didn't know it all along," Yamato countered. "I just found out about this twenty minutes ago!"

"You were unconscious twenty minutes ago," Davis objected skeptically.

"Yes," Yamato said, nodding. "That's why it worked…"

He stopped. They were looking at him with the slightly puzzled, slightly patronizing expressions of the sane regarding the insane. "Look," Kari said sympathetically, as if confirming Yamato's suspicions. "Are you sure it wasn't a nightmare?"

"It was NOT a nightmare!" Yamato gritted. "It was…" He looked around. "Alright. I see that if I'm to convince you, I'll have to start at the beginning."

"That is generally a good place to start," Cody said, nonplussed.

"Fine," Yamato snapped. If it took days, he would convince them. They couldn't afford to dismiss him now. "You remember how we stand-masters can contact one another over long distances by communing over the thought-plane. To do it, we have to…go into a trance. A kind of dream-like state."

"Yes…" Cody said cautiously.

"Remember, the transition from dream to thought-plane. That rushing sensation, of ascension, from this…plane to the next."

"I know what you're talking about," Takeru said. "What about it?"

"There is a plane between them," Yamato said, casting about awkwardly to explain his idea. It was not that it was new. He had known about it the whole time. It was just so difficult to explain. "A state, halfway between dream and thought-shape. There…thought-shapes aren't controlled by you, but by the dreamer. You can't…"

He stopped. By the blank expression on everyone's face, he knew that he had lost them. As if to confirm, Davis cleared his throat. "Uh…you're going to have to try again."

Yamato looked down as he tried to force the concept into focus. He had to know what it was he had experienced before he could begin to explain it.

"All right," he said, "let me start again."

He rapped the table in front of him with his knuckles. "This," he announced, "is the real world."

He put his hand to his temple. "On the thought-plane, I can produce a replica of this table. It will be similar in every aspect. It will be solid. It will be made of mahogany. It will be the exact same height, but it will not be real. It is, quite literally, a figment of my imagination that I have made real on the thought-plane. However, although it was I that made it, it doesn't stop someone from changing it, erasing it, or putting a cup of tea on it. The thought-plane is everyone's and no-one's. It is an objective reality."

He looked around. Judging from their nods, everyone was still with him so far. "And if there ever is a conflict regarding the thought-shapes on the plane," he continued, "it becomes a contest of wills and strength. I want this table to be three feet high. Takeru wants it to be four feet. Whether it is three feet, four feet, or some height in-between depends on our relative strength. If I'm stronger, it remains at three feet. If I'm not, lo and behold, it's four feet."

"Go on," Takeru nudged.

Yamato took a deep breath. "Now, think of a dream. In our sleep, our imagination creates objects. Let's say I dream of this table. The table appears real to me, but it is not objectively real. Not in the physical sense, nor in the thought-plane sense. It is a reality unique to me, as only I perceive it. Since only I perceive it, it is not objective."

"But it isn't, is it…," Kari said cautiously. "The ability to contact the thought-plane in the dreamer. That changes the dream?"

"Changes the nature of the dream," Yamato said, nodding. "Again, let's use Takeru and I. If I have a powerful dream, the images and the subjective reality of my dream can sometimes spill over onto the thought-plane. And, if Takeru is caught unawares, he can be drawn into my dream. Because of our link over the thought-plane, Takeru gets to experience my dream. My dream's reality becomes objective."

Several of the stand-masters were beginning to look uncomfortable or skeptical as the implications began to sink in. "It's a rare phenomenon," Yamato assured them. "And almost always, the dream has to involve the other person in the first place before that person can be drawn in. But it does happen. And when it does, there are several differences between a shared dream and a thought-shape.

"Firstly," Yamato said, rapping his hand against the table again, "this is dream. Not a thought-shape. In a dream, I can fall, bump my head against this table and end up with a terrific bruise in the dream. When I wake up, the bruise is gone because it never happened. In the same way, whatever happens to the person that is drawn in does not happen in real life. If Takeru bumps his head on the thought-plane, he will emerge with a bump on his head. If Takeru is drawn into my dream and bumps his head there, he won't even wake up with a headache. A dream is not the Perenic thought plane."

"But secondly," Yamato continued, staring around, "the person drawn is drawn in someone else's dream. He has no control over what happens. For those without the discipline to control their own dreams, this means that it is possible to become enmeshed in someone else's dream and not realize it until they compare it with the other person. But for those who can…it is painfully obvious."

"Excuse me," Cody said politely. "This is interesting, but…" His searching gaze finished the question.

Yamato rubbed his forehead as he tried to gather his thoughts again. "Sometimes," he said slowly, "it is possible for someone to not only control his dreams, but also to…willfully project them onto the thought-plane. Onto another person."

There was a long pause after that. Then Davis shifted on his chair. "You mean, someone could snatch me into their dreams? By will?"

"Yes," Yamato said, nodding. "It would require intimate knowledge of the other person to craft a convincing dream concerning them, and thus draw them in. With sufficient discipline and knowledge however-"

"You were contacted," Ken said flatly. "Not by thought-shape, not by messenger, but by a dream."

Again, Yamato nodded.

"Who?"

"My former Centurion, now Praetor Locke Dimak," Yamato said without hesitation. "Who…it seems…is now also a mirrireid bearer."

There was a sharp hiss from Cody, but Takeru nodded. "That was how then," he said.

Yamato folded his arms on the table and leaned on them. They had to believe him. "Listen carefully," he said as his intense gaze bored into each of them in turn. "I believe that we have been warned. And before you ask, yes, I do know the difference between a bad dream and a warning."

Over the course of the next ten minutes, Yamato coldly and methodically laid out everything he had seen and heard in his vision. Gradually, the stand-master's expressions turned from one of weary annoyance to quiet concentration, and finally to grim alarm. Yamato spared no detail. He spoke of every vision, from the black rift in the red sky, to the hideous flood of soldiers he had witnessed. He spoke of the mysterious voice that had spoken to him and its message of warning. He even spoke of his visions of each of their respective deaths. As he spoke, he watched as Yolei and Davis flinched at the images. Cody and Ken remained stony, without betraying a hint of emotion, while Takeru and Kari exchanged troubled glances.

When he had finished, the room was silent. Yamato shifted his chair closer to the table. The scrape of the padded legs against the wooden floor echoed loudly in the still silence. Folding his hands on the table, Yamato sat back and waited.

Finally, Davis stirred. "And you think that all this is…a message," he said as he waved vaguely, as if he was trying to pull the words out of the air. "Sent from…this…Locke Dimak, your old Centurion. To warn you. No…to warn us."

"That's right," Yamato said.

Davis frowned. "And now, that man is a Praetor, commanding your corps."

"Yes," Yamato said, nodding. He glanced at Takeru. And you've met him before, he thought silently.

"Why didn't he just contact you by a normal thought-shape?" Ken asked tightly. "They can do that, can't they? Mirrireid bearers?"

"I don't think you understand the function of a mirrireid," Yamato explained. "Perhaps you should examine the one you took from Dinar more carefully. They're small metal pendants that allow the bearer to draw and focus powers from Tichon. For Locke to contact me and warn me through a direct thought-shape…would be like asking Tichon to contact me on his behalf. Obviously, Tichon would have known immediately."

"And that's why he has to resort to this kind of convoluted dream?" Ken said skeptically.

"Even so," Yolei said, tapping a finger against her chin. "Tichon can still overhear the dream, can't he? There's still a risk?"

"If Locke can't convince the Emperor that he was simply dreaming of success and victory," Yamato said tensely, "yes."

Yolei sighed. "So…he is warning us at great personal risk." She looked up. "Why? And how do we know that we can trust him?"

Yamato spread his hands flat out on the table. "To be perfectly honest," he confessed, "I'm not sure we can."

The frankness of that statement raised a few eyebrows. Strangely, however, the skepticism on Ken and Cody's face did not darken, but faded as Yamato continued. Takeru and Kari exchanged meaningful glances as if sharing something secret between them, through a bond even more intimate than thought-shapes. Yamato did not know what was going on, but he plowed on determinedly.

"I have always groomed and taught him to keep the bigger picture in mind," he explained. "To keep the end in sight, and make sure that you are always striving for that end. It became obvious to me after my first battle with you that Khaydarin had lost sight of that end. So I left. It may be that Locke has simply…come to the same conclusion as I have."

"So the Khaydarin army is just full of idealists like you," Ken said sarcastically. "Why don't we just preach to them? Show them the error of their ways? They'll flock to our banners then."

Everyone turned to stare at him. Kari frowned. "Ken…that doesn't sound like you speaking."

Ken looked down at his clenched fists on the smooth table for a long moment. When he looked up, his face was calm again. A mask to contain the rage. "I make no apology," he said harshly. Turning, he drilled Yamato with a hard glare. "Answer my question."

Yamato sighed as he steepled his fingers, "I realize that this might sound rather far-fetched to you," he admitted. "And as for your question, I'm afraid it's not true. Preaching will not win over the Khaydarin army."

Then he stopped as he frowned, his blue eyes lost in thought. Then he amended, "at least…not totally true."

This time, the collective gaze turned to Yamato. "Explain," Cody said, with typical curtness.

Yamato looked up into the gloomy recesses of the conference room's arched ceiling as he carefully phrased his answer.

"In retrospect," he said slowly, "I think the Emperor made a mistake, trying to turn me over to his side. For thousands of years, he has slowly been turning and directing the minds of his underlings to total and unswerving obedience to him. If he asked them to cut off their own heads at a whim, they would do it. That is why, Ken, I say that your assertion is not true. Preaching will not win over the Khaydarin army.

"But when he made me one of them, no matter what he did, he could not instill the same devotion in me. He only had fifteen years or so to work with me. I was too independent. Too questioning. So he compromised.

"Over the course of fifteen years, he twisted, hammered and brainwashed me with conventional and unholy techniques, but he could not make me loyal to him personally. He made me follow the same cause as he did. Or at least, he twisted it so that my young mind would follow it. In my youth, I thought I was loyal to Khaydarin. In retrospect, I know that I was not loyal to Khaydarin, but to what Khaydarin represented. What Khaydarin sought after.

"When he gave me a corps of ten thousand men to command, the first thing I did was to ensure that the hearts of my men were in the right place. I encouraged my Centurions and Decurions to think, to question my orders when instant obedience was not critical. To decide for themselves what they fought for. To me, a soldier who did not believe in our cause did not deserve to be in my corps."

"In other words," Yolei said, tapping the table with a thoughtful finger, "although you served Khaydarin in name, you had been sowing the seeds of dissension all along. What Ken said may not be true of the Khaydarin army, but it may be true of your corps."

Yamato nodded. "Given the chance," he said, "I don't know how many of them will respond. I admit, even I'm a little doubtful about Locke's intentions, but his defection would not be entirely unexpected."

Suddenly, he frowned and cut himself off. The others stared at him, then as one, they looked to the door. Footsteps were coming down the hallway. A moment later, there was a quiet rap at the door. "Lord Takeru?" an attendant's voice called out. "Lord Takeru, are you in there?"

Yamato relaxed slightly, and Takeru gave him an amused smile. "Yes, Gornar. Come in."

The liveried servant opened the door and stepped into the room. "Lord Takeru," he said quietly, "the conference is due to start in less than an hour. It is time for you to get ready."

Startled, Yamato looked at the window. The gray light of dawn was already beginning to seep around the edges of the drawn curtain. Was it that late already? Takeru turned and met the gazes of the others. Kari shook her head slightly, and Takeru nodded in agreement. "We will come when we are ready," Takeru said. "If we are not there by seven o'clock, tell the delegates that we are…delayed, and will be with them shortly."

Gornar swept into a low bow. "Understood, my Lord, and forgive my intrusion." Turning on his heel, he walked out of the room and closed the door. The clicks of his footsteps echoed down the hallway.

There was a moment of silence as the stand-masters tracked his fading spirit aura until it passed out of sight. When he was sure that the man was gone, Yamato, the one with the widest range, nodded slightly. Kari shook her head as she leaned forward in her chair. "Wait a minute. Back track a little. Before we decide whether or not to trust this…Locke, let's decide just what he is warning us against. Yamato, you said that the last thing you heard was the voice. A warning. Something about…still having time."

"Eighteen days," Yamato confirmed.

"Two and a half weeks," Yolei repeated, "before… 'the sangrias opened'." She looked around helplessly. "What is a sangrias?"

Yamato squared his shoulders. "I…I thought it was impossible," he said flatly. "But then…in theory…"

"Then you do know what it is," Davis said stubbornly from the other end of the table.

"If you know," Takeru said, gently but no less firmly, "then tell us. Every little bit helps."

"You already know," Yamato accused him.

Everyone turned to Takeru, who merely sat back in his chair. "I suspect," Takeru clarified. "That is all."

"A sangrias," Ken repeated, rolling the word through his mouth like a connoisseur tasting wine. He looked sharply at Yamato. "Lord Corin of Fan-Tzu?"

Yamato felt a wave of powerful relief flood through him. "So you know what it is?"

"An obscure historical essay," Ken said as he shook his head. "The musings of an old man, fantastic theories that were never tested. And yet…"

"They fit, don't they?" Yamato urged, staring at Ken, challenging him to deny the facts. "They fit with the warning."

All at once, it seemed to Yamato that he, Ken and Takeru were the only three awake in a room of blissfully sleeping ignorants. As ugly realization dawned on Ken's face and alarm grew on Takeru's, confusion bloomed on everyone else's. "Look, you two," Davis growled. "I don't know about any of this 'oh look at me I'm so smart I know my history inside out' act, but if you two don't start explaining I'm going to start breaking bones."

Ken cast the Taelidani a worried glance. "Lord Corin, who, by the way, has no relation whatsoever to our present Lord Andre of Corin, was Emperor of Fan-Tzu and very much taken by the endless possibilities of the thought-plane. The sangrias was first conceived by him as a remote possibility, about ten years after the end of the first Seihad."

"The word 'sangrias' comes from the root word 'sangrisse', which in Ancient Gaean meant 'tunnel'," Yamato explained. "'Sangrias' then, affixed with the 'ias' suffix which means "grand" or "large", can be taken to mean 'archway' or 'gateway'. That is, in essence, what a sangrias is, or was supposed to be. Lord Corin postulated that theoretically, if a host of technical issues could be overcome, a sangrias could be constructed: a gateway between the real world, this corporeal existence we call reality," Yamato rapped his knuckles on the hard table-top for emphasis, "and the Perenic thought-plane."

"If three conditions could be met," Ken added quietly. "There had to be a stand-master of sufficient strength of body and mind. There had to be some way or technique of focusing all of his or her energies into a point. And there had to be some way of anchoring the sangrias into real space, lest it drift away from our dimension and become useless."

"But we need no such gateway," Kari said, frowning. "I don't understand. We ascend to the thought-plane all the time."

"But your physical body is left behind," Ken countered. "Only your spirit goes. So far, the thought-plane has been accessible only to stand-masters and to mirrireid bearers. A sangrias would eliminate even that. It would be a physical doorway that would allow a normal person to walk from this world to the world of thoughts. And then, presumably, allow them to walk back out."

Davis snorted. "You're right," he said flatly. "It's impossible. But even if Tichon had managed to construct such a thing, how is that a threat to us? They can't do anything to the real world from the thought-plane."

"It would be a deadly threat," Yamato said grimly. "The Perenic thought-plane has no dimensions. Whenever we ascend, it is we that construct three dimensional thought-shapes, since we cannot think any other way. When we first arrive, before it is filled by thought-shapes, there is no near. No far. No up or down, left or right. Two points are simultaneously miles apart, and right on top of one another.

"The sangrias would be able to bridge the real world with the imaginary. An army would be able to walk through. Then, if another sangrias was built and opened, it would bridge the imaginary with the real. But since the imaginary has no dimensions, an army can walk into the entering sangrias and out the exiting sangrias in seconds."

Yamato looked around as understanding began to flood the others' faces. Understanding and alarm. "You see?" he said. "With such a tool, Tichon can transport his soldiers across a vast distance in the blink of an eye. He would have no need of ships to cross the Strait of Akeldama. It would not take months for him to complete the ferrying of his armies across the Strait. It would take scant days."

"But that is possible!" Cody exclaimed. "The dark sorcerer in Yagami. And only a few hours ago, we all saw Minister Dinar summoning a spell. The pentagram, the wind. He was trying to escape through a sangrias!"

But Yamato was already shaking his head. "No, you do not understand," he insisted. "Those were sangrisse, opened only by mirrireid bearers. Corin himself developed the technique, though it has since been lost to all but the Khaydarin. Mirrireid are rare, and people who have the strength to bear them are even more rare. The threat of sangrisse is real, since no amount of security can stop them. The only saving grace is that we, as stand-masters, can always feel the opening of a sangrisse when it comes. Nevertheless, the sangrisse was how many of the assassinations of the first stand-masters were carried out. Sangrisse are not nothing new.

"But on the scale that I saw in my vision? A mile-wide sangrias? Impossible! It takes tremendous skill to summon a sangrisse large enough for one bearer. There are only a handful of bearers that can do that. A sangrias large enough for an army, none of whom bear a mirrireid is…unthinkable. The war would be over in a matter of months if Tichon had the ability to transport his armies anywhere he wished."

"Yet," Yolei said, hollowly, "that is what Locke is warning us about."

"That," Yamato said, shaking his head, "is what I do not understand. Why portray the impossible?"

The other six stand-masters exchanged troubled glances, and Yamato stopped. He stared around at the others, a leaden ball of dread settling in his stomach. "What is it?" he asked, frowning in confusion. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Yamato," Yolei said quietly, "have you ever read Prophecies?"

Yamato raised his eyebrows. "No," he answered truthfully. "I meant to, but I have not had the time yet."

Takeru sighed as he pushed back his chair and stood up. Folding his hands wearily behind him, he padded over to the window and looked out. The sun was beginning to rise in the eastern mountains, and already the air around Ardinberg had lightened slightly from an impenetrable black to a foggy gray. Wisps of mist wreathed the deceptively peaceful landscape. Peaceful, but not for long.

"The sangrias is real," Takeru said, his voice heavy.

Yamato's eyes narrowed as he looked around. He did not protest. Takeru never asserted something he was not sure of. "You do know something," he accused Takeru.

Takeru did not say anything. Instead, it was Kari that answered Yamato's question. " 'Lo!' " Kari recited out loud, " 'I saw a great gaping mouth. Painful to see, it was, blinding the eyes with an unholy black light. I cowered and hid my face in my hands, but the angel touched my shoulder and bid me watch. Streams of black issued forth from that rotten mouth like water might burst from a dammed river." She looked ill as she finished the verse with the reference. " 'Prophecies 31:19-21'' "

"That's not it," Takeru added without turning around. "I never realized it until now, but I've heard the word 'sangrias' before."

Yolei and Davis looked around with expressions of surprise. Yamato merely folded his hands. Yes, Takeru had heard the word before. As a former Praetor, Yamato had enough skill at reading people's expressions and spirit auras to tell that much. But where?

"In the past couple weeks before the delegates arrived," Takeru explained, "I have taken the opportunity to study the book in even more detail. You know it was written in Ancient Gaean, right? Well, you should know that translations aren't perfect."

Davis frowned. "What are you getting at?"

Takeru turned from the window. "In an effort to find exactly what Adun meant, I took that passage, and several other similarly obscure passages, and examined it word for word in the original language. Some words translated perfectly, but others had several meanings. The word the translators translated into "mouth" was…"

It dawned on them. "Sangrias?" Ken said incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have told you what it meant!"

"I was not familiar with the works of Lord Corin, so I never realized the significance of the word," Takeru said harshly. "I merely noted down the alternate definitions of the word: 'door' or 'gateway', 'tunnel', and…yes, 'mouth'."

Yamato's mouth felt dry as he looked around. "That…came from Prophecies?"

"That, and a whole lot more," Davis said gruffly. "And so far, that book hasn't lied once. It's a safe bet that it's not going to lie, ever. Don't worry, Yamato. We're taking you very seriously indeed."

"So," Ken said quietly as he rubbed his face wearily, "Locke was not being figurative. He was showing you exactly what was going to happen. Somehow, Yamato, Tichon has found a way to do the impossible."

Yamato shook his head in disbelief. "The amount of dark magic alone," he muttered. "Enough to rip a mile-wide hole in reality. That's…unthinkable. The amount of preparation that must have gone into this sangrias! Decades! Centuries!"

"Now we know what the prophecy was talking about," Takeru said from where he stood by the window. "The mouth that Adun saw was a sangrias. We also know that that mouth is going to open in two and a half weeks." He turned to face the others.

"So what do we do?"

Cody rubbed his chin. "I don't see what we can do about it," he confessed. "If…the exit point of the sangrias can truly be anywhere on Gaea, then there's nothing we can do to defend against it. Wherever we place our army, Tichon can merely have his people come out somewhere else…"

"No…," Ken said, leaning forward. "No, that can't be it. I remember now…for the sangrias to work as a bridge between vast distances…"

"There needs to be two of them," Yamato finished for him, nodding. "One for the entrance, and one…for the exit."

Yolei leaned forward. "So the exit point of this particular sangrias will be fixed?"

"For the first one," Yamato said, nodding. "I…let me explain."

Yamato patted his pockets and, finding nothing there, got up wobbly to cast about. He found two unused candles in a servant's side-table and brought them back to the main conference table. "This is a crude illustration," he said apologetically, "but it'll have to do. Listen carefully."

He set down one of the candles on the flat table, with the wick pointed towards the others. "Let's say that Tichon, the real, physical Tichon, and his armies are located at the base of this candle. Since distance has no meaning on the thought-plane, let us also imagine that this candle starts at the base but extends to infinity. Tichon can create a tunnel through the thought-plane that follows this line, but he cannot determine its length."

"So, he has to construct a second sangrias, somewhere along the course of that line, to create the exit," Ken said.

"Right," Yamato agreed. Carefully, he set down the butt end of the second candle onto the first.  Holding the second candle perpendicular to the table, he looked at the others. "This first candle, from the base to where the second candle intersects it, is your tunnel through the thought-plane."

"But afterwards…" Kari prompted.

For an answer, Yamato swung the first candle out from under the second, then laid the second candle flat on the table as well. Then he swept the two candles on an arc until their wicks touched, forming two sides of a triangle. "Well then," Yamato said. "Corin postulated that where two of these lines meet…another opening would form. Which means…"

"A parallax," Takeru breathed as it dawned on him. When the others stared at him, he gestured at the two candles. "The position of an object cannot be determined by one observer alone, but by two observers standing a little ways apart. That's what you're describing, a parallax. The point is…that once Tichon completes two sangrias, he has two lines which he can swing in any direction. Where those two lines meet, an exit will open. Thus, he can open a sangrias anywhere he wants."

"Yes," Yamato said reluctantly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. A sangrisse did not need any focusing points, since they were only transporting one person. But something of this magnitude would need something to…guide the entrance and exit points. To anchor them in real space before they could reach out to the thought-plane. If nothing else, there must be…some kind of tower there. In fact, I saw it in the vision! Five towers, describing the points of a miles-wide pentagram, remember? I bet that we'll find it somewhere along the Ichijoujan coast. Something that large can't be missed."

But Kari was frowning. "That doesn't make sense," she objected. "Why can't Tichon build both towers on Akeldama's soil where he's all but invulnerable? Why risk the second tower on Gaea, where we can get at it?"

Everyone looked at Yamato, who sighed. "Takeru," he said, turning to his brother, "do we have a map here?"

Takeru nodded. "Which region?"

"All of Gaea, if you have it."

Takeru got up and went to a cabinet next to the door. He had to pull out several cabinets before he found what he was looking for, but when he did he hurried back and spread the cream-coloured parchment on the table. "Here it is."

Yamato looked at the familiar shape of Gaea, his eye tracing the outline of Bornir's Bay in Sheid and the Garadin Fingers off the Yagami coast. The Ichijoujan coast made a rocky, jagged line that stretched from the north-east to the south-west in a rough line. "Here," Yamato said as he jabbed his finger down, somewhere in the ocean east of the Ichijoujan coast. "Whoever drew this couldn't have known it, but the Island of Akeldama is here, extending in a more or less narrow spit of land from east to west."

That was all he had to say before Ken began to catch on. "The parallax only works when the position of the object does not lie on the same line as the two observers."

"Exactly," Yamato said, nodding approvingly. "If Tichon had built his two towers on Akeldama, the only places he would have been able to reach would have been the extreme north and the extreme south of Gaea. Which severely limits the sangrias's usefulness. So to remedy that-"

"His towers must be oriented north and south of each other to be truly effective," Ken finished for him. "So he builds one on Akeldama and…one somewhere on the Ichijoujan coastline."

"So, the bottom line:" Kari said cautiously, "if we somehow manage to get an army that deep into Ichijoujan territory, find the towers and…destroy them, the sangrias would not be able to open?"

"Sounds simple doesn't it?" Yolei commented. "Except of course, we would have to somehow muster the force, fight past a full five corps of Khaydarin soldiers, that's two hundred thousand men…"

"More," Yamato corrected absent-mindedly. "Perhaps three hundred thousand."

"…and find a way to destroy solid stone towers within three weeks!"

Davis groaned as he lowered his forehead onto his forearms. "Couldn't your man have cut it any closer?" he mumbled sarcastically into the table.

"Locke would have a good reason for not letting us know," Yamato said, defending his former Centurion automatically. "Perhaps he didn't know until now. The Emperor never told his subordinates more than was necessary for them to carry out his orders. And I think we have more time than that."

Everyone drilled him with a sharp glance. "What do you mean?" Takeru asked urgently.

"Something Locke said…," Yamato said, frowning. "His exact words… 'In eighteen days, the sangrias will be completed. In another week…and all will come to pass.' Now…at first I thought he was referring to the same time, but then…eighteen days isn't exactly one week, is it?"

"You mean a week after the eighteen days?" Takeru asked. "As in twenty-five days?"

"Yes," Yamato said, his mind racing. "But this has never been done before. There could be any number of reasons that would render the sangrias unusable for a week after its completion. Perhaps the edges of the hole must be healed. Or Tichon needs one week to focus the energies necessary to punch the hole. Whatever. The physical towers will be completed in eighteen days. But the sangrias will not open until perhaps a week after that."

"And even then," Ken said, a faint gleam coming back into his eyes, "we'd still have time. Corin calculated that to focus the sangrias takes tremendous energy. Tichon can't possibly keep it open twenty-four hours a day. It will have to close for him to rest from time to time."

"Just give us the point," Davis growled. "You mean that it will take time for Tichon to move his people from Akeldama to Ichijouji, even though they only have to walk through some weird tunnel in limbo. Well? How fast can he move people?"

"No-one knows, Davis," Yamato said worriedly. "It's…it's never been done before. Even I don't know how strong Tichon is, or how long he can go before he burns himself out. It could be that he can keep the sangrias open for an hour a day, or only ten minutes a day. So…two weeks for thirty thousand men? One week? No-one knows!"

Davis subsided. In the quiet that ensued, the faint chattering of early morning birds could be heard outside the conference chamber's windows. A gray pool of light was already beginning to form beneath the drawn window. As Yamato watched the light intensify, he was conscious of a feeling of mild panic grip his limbs.

Precious hours had already slipped by, hours they could ill afford to lose. How many did they have left? How could they hope to be ready?

"Eighteen days," Takeru said heavily as he got up and began pacing around the room. "Plus one week before the sangrias opens. Then they start coming through. How fast, we do not know. How many, we do not know. We do not even know where save that it's somewhere along the Ichijoujan coastline. All on the word…," he shot Yamato an apologetic glance, "of a Khaydarin Praetor named Locke, whose loyalties are unclear, but whose warning we dare not ignore. Have I missed anything?"

Silence dropped like a smothering blanket. Nobody breathed. Slowly, Takeru picked up the small tin cap on the servant's cabinet, walked over and extinguished the small candle on the table-top. It was no longer necessary.

"Then it appears, ladies and gentlemen," he said grimly, "that we have our work cut out for us. It's time we got down to it."

"And what do you propose?" Cody said.

"First things first," Takeru replied as he set down the tin cap. "There have been enough secrets around here. It's time we got rid of them."

**********

**one hour later**

Marc sat like a statue in his chair, his mind reeling as Takeru and Yamato finished laying out everything they knew before the delegates in the conference chamber. Marc did not need any great skill to discern that the two of them had held nothing back. Which was not to imply that what they had already said hadn't been shocking enough.

They had spared nothing. From the identity of Yamato, to his dream about the sangrias, to the implications of such a weapon in the hands of an Emperor like Tichon. They had explained that even if the free nations of Gaea were to be united, they would still be unable to stand before the invasion that would come after the sangrias had been opened. To Marc, it felt like the air in the chamber had dropped five degrees. The morning sunlight that flooded in from the wide, slatted windows of the chamber's roof no longer seemed warm and welcoming. It looked pale and cold. Insufficient.

"-eighteen days," Yamato was saying as he finished. "Plus one week, which is twenty-five days in total. Then you will know war as you have never seen it before." He looked around, his pale blue eyes narrowed with frustration. "Even if you are not a tactician, surely you can see the implications if Tichon can transport his troops anywhere on Gaea, instantaneously."

Talin raised his ashen face from Ichijouji's section of the Head Table. "It wouldn't matter how large our armies are," he said woodenly. "The capitals would fall in a matter of months. The war would be over in a year."

Silence.

"Permit me to be the voice of reason," San said cautiously. "But it seems to me that all of this information comes from the other side."

"It does match the description in Prophecies," Takeru pointed out.

"Yes," San said skeptically. "In a manner of speaking, it does. But that prophecy could have been applied to anything. How can you be sure that Adun wasn't talking about something else?"

"Begging your pardon sir," Kari cut in firmly, "but if you read the entire chapter, you will see that Adun could have been talking about nothing but the sangrias. He even used the word earlier on."

San turned to her, looking offended. "Lady Hikari, I have read all of Lord Takeru's research on the book. Not once has he ever mentioned this word."

"And that," Kari said, still gently, "would be because you read Takeru's research, and not the book itself. Takeru…perhaps you should explain."

"I'm at fault," Takeru confessed. "The translated sentence that you are familiar with reads: 'Lo! I saw a great gaping mouth.' The original sentence reads: 'T'air! Yon lumos l'agai dutzin…sangrias.' The translators, who have evidently never read Lord Corin's works, translated the word 'sangrias' into the word 'mouth'. And I, in my ignorance, did not catch their oversight."

A murmur of unease and even alarm spread through the chamber. "You can check the sentence yourself if you like," Takeru added. "And chapter 31, verse 19 is not the only place where the word 'sangrias' is mentioned."

"The point is, King San," Davis explained, "it is quite clear that the sangrias is what Adun was referring to when he wrote this book."

"The book never mentioned when the sangrias would open," Ida pointed out.

"No, it doesn't," Takeru agreed readily. "It just says that it will."

"Then there's no reason why it has to happen now."

At first, that seemed like an absurd objection to Takeru. No reason for it to happen now? There was no reason for it not to happen now. It wasn't until Nyarc gave a barking laugh from his end of the chamber that he understood.

"I think what our esteemed Jakt Queen means is this," the Ishidan warlord said. "Just because this dream matches Prophecies doesn't mean that this…Locke…could not have read Prophecies, and tailor-made his dream to fit it," he said coldly. Around him several of the delegates began to nod and the alarm began to disappear from some of their faces.

"I urge you to think before you speak, Lord Nyarc," Cody cut in coolly. "There is only one complete copy of Prophecies known to exist, and it is upstairs in Lord Takeru's study. How do you think Locke, a Khaydarin Praetor, would ever have the opportunity to read it in the original language, much less tailor his dream to fit one of the prophecies?"

"What makes you think that Khaydarin doesn't have a copy?" Nyarc objected.

"Prophecies was written by Adun," Cody said. "It was never copied, and only excerpts of it has appeared in historical books. For its entire history, it has been kept in the Ishidan kondou, under secure guard during the Age of Gods. For some reason, that was Adun's wish. Perhaps he was afraid of the consequences of allowing the enemy to know what he had seen would transpire in the future. Whatever the reason, after the Age of Gods, nobody even remembered its location. Unless you're telling me that Adun purposely gave a copy to Khaydarin…"

The grin disappeared from Nyarc's face. "I don't know how Khaydarin got a copy," he growled. He swung out an accusatory finger at Yamato. "But then, if someone like him has been allowed to attend a conference as delicate as this…"

The unfinished sentence hung in the air like a suffocating smoke.

Yamato's face remained calm, but Takeru's eyes narrowed into cold, glittering slits as he gathered his cloak and stood up. "Let's not beat around the bush," he said bitingly. "That sentence can mean one of two things. Let's start with the first. Are you accusing me of collaborating with Khaydarin?"

Nyarc took a deep breath. "No," he said evenly. "But I-"

"Does anyone here suspect that we stand-masters are collaborating with the enemy?" Takeru demanded, cutting Nyarc off. He glared around the chamber.

"Well?"

Silence.

"Alright," Takeru said. He ticked off one finger, raised another and transfixed Nyarc with another glare. "Then are you accusing Lord Yamato of collaborating with Tichon without our knowledge?"

Nyarc was beginning to look cornered, but he valiantly rallied his features into a stern mask. "I…yes. I am," he said awkwardly.

"Then at last, the elephant in the room has revealed itself," Takeru said. "So…just can we trust a former Khaydarin Praetor?"

"Is that meant to be a question?" Nyarc sneered. "I wouldn't wager a copper on his word!"

A murmur of assent began to spread through the room. Encouraged, Nyarc stood up and tried to match Takeru's icy gaze. "This man was a Praetor!" Nyarc said as he pounded his table for emphasis. "Not just a foot-soldier, a Praetor! The highest-ranking general in the Khaydarin Imperial Army! He is responsible for the wars, responsible for the burning of untold numbers of cities and innocents."

Some of the delegates were beginning to nod now, and an ugly buzz of angry calls resonated in the chamber. Nyarc again pointed at Yamato. "And you ask us to go to war on this man's word? Am I the only one in this room who has not lost his senses? He should hang for his crimes!"

At that, Takeru opened his mouth, but it was too late. The Council chamber was in an uproar. Almost every delegate rose to his or her feet, shouting questions or roaring for everything from Yamato's death to Yamato's imprisonment. Some of them even reached into their robes and withdrew their swords, brandishing them at Yamato in fear or anger. Around the Head Table, the Kings and Queens stood up as well, yelling incomprehensibly over the din. Several of the stand-masters rose with the monarchs, waving their arms as they tried to restore some semblance of order.

Yamato felt an eerie numbing sensation descend upon him as the entire chamber's mood turned murderous. Was this it then? Were they going to listen?

"SILENCE!!" Takeru thundered furiously.

His booming voice cut through the babble like a knife. As one, the white-faced delegates turned to look at Takeru with wide eyes. Uneasily, the bodyguards shifted their grips on their swords as they stood in front of their charges. Not daring to put up their swords, but not daring to attack either.

For Takeru was standing next to Yamato, and his eyes were glowing a brilliant silver. His hands were gleaming with a faint golden light, and a small breeze seemed to have wrapped itself around him, stirring up his cloak and his hair. And while Ichibou remained sheathed, Takeru's right hand was resting on the hilt.

"This man," Takeru said, his voice deathly calm, "is under my sovereign protection. Anyone who lays a finger on him will answer to me."

"Are you threatening us, my Lord?" Nyarc said tauntingly, his shrill voice ringing in the still air. "It is unbecoming of you."

But when Takeru answered, his voice held no rage. "You are all under my sovereign protection. I am merely threatening to uphold the promise I gave all of you when you were invited. There. Will. Be. No. Violence. Here."

"He should die for what he has done!" Nyarc shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Lord Nyarc," Cody countered quietly from his seat. Despite the hubbub, the young stand-master had remained seated. "Despite the fact that you were responsible for the death of hundreds of Saldean, Corin and Isendre soldiers, an invitation was extended to you. No one has started to threaten you with death yet." He cocked his head. "Do you think we should begin?"

Nyarc spluttered and his mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out.

"If it comes to blame," Cody continued, looking around. "None of you are innocent. But when you walked into this room, you committed to leave your accusations at the door. This man has defected to our cause, and is offering the vital information that he has to our advantage, at the cost of your scorn and perhaps…and let us be honest here…his life. I notice that none of you have committed your armies yet. I hope that you would keep that in mind before you start judging him."

A deathly quiet descended upon the chamber as the delegates all stared at Yamato. For his part, Yamato sat calmly with his hands folded in front of him. His returning stares were not defiant, but they were not defensive either. He merely stood there, absorbing the incredulous, hateful and fearful stares that were cast upon him. It was a silence charged with a tension so thick, Yamato thought he could hear it crackling in the air as the silent seconds ticked by.

"I believe him," a lone voice said. Everyone turned to see Talin unfold his arms and stand up from where he had been sitting by the Head Table. "This man risked his life to save my people and my Emperor. I saw him do it with my own eyes. Whatever he has done, the Ichijoujan peoples owe a blood debt to him. I have no doubt as to his loyalties." Talin hesitated and glanced at Ken.

But Ken was nodding. "If Micah was still alive," he said quietly, "I have no doubt he would feel the same way. The Ichijoujan Imperial Corps…what's left of it…will follow the decision of the stand-masters."

Takeru nodded gratefully at Ken and Talin, but did not sit down. "Delegates," he said urgently, almost desperately. "You must listen to him. If not to his words, then at least listen to his deeds. He is no longer the same man!"

Aidan steepled his fingers and wearily rested his brow on his thumbs. When he looked up however, his eyes were bright and sharp. "If we take this warning to be genuine," he said cautiously, "what would you have us do?"

"Is it not obvious?" Yamato said. "We strike now, before the enemy can use this weapon against us!"

"From the intelligence my men managed to gather," Marc rumbled from the Ishidan table, "all the five corps in Gaea are being assembled in Ichijouji. That's more than three hundred thousand men. They have had a week to entrench themselves, rebuild the walls they shattered, establish secure supply lines from Ichijouji's fields…a week to do anything they choose. Getting past them is no easy matter."

"Perhaps for one nation," Kari objected. "But not if we combine our armies."

"Lady Hikari," Aidan said solemnly, "you realize you are proposing we commit all our forces to the largest military campaign in the history of Gaea, on the word of one man, let alone a former Khaydarin Praetor. If this is a trap and Khaydarin invades our nations while our armies are on a wild goose chase…"

"But he's right!" Kari all but shouted. She wanted to jump up and shake some sense into all of these stubborn, stiff-necked delegates. Couldn't they see? "Even Prophecies agrees with him. What more do you want? The word of ten men? A thousand men?"

"You are not a tactician," Aidan said cautiously, "so I do not blame you for not understanding. But know this: if we are wrong, the war wouldn't be over in a year. It will be over in a week."

"Perhaps we could send a team of scouts to investigate before we commit our forces," Ida suggested.

But before she had finished speaking, Davis was already shaking his head. "No," he said, "we have tried to sneak past Khaydarin's invisible patrols in the past, and it ended in disaster. Whatever happens in Ichijouji is closed to us here."

"Besides, it would take too long," Bjorn said, his sharp eyes lighting on Ida. "Twenty-five days is barely enough time to muster our armies. If we had to wait for scouts, Tichon would have nearly three weeks to prepare his forces."

"We have no time for this," Kari said abruptly. "We don't have a year to debate this out and resolve every single issue before we decide to act. We have scant days, and we have already wasted almost two precious hours."

As the delegates murmured amongst themselves, Kari looked at each delegate in turn, trying desperately to catch everyone's gaze. "Put aside your fear and your doubts for just one moment," she pleaded. "Weigh the evidence fairly!"

"We have," Aidan objected. "And we find it lacking."

Kari stood up from the Head Table and spread her hands. "Have we really?" she asked. "Let's be frank here. The only reason why you doubt this warning is because Yamato delivered it. If this intelligence had come from one of our own scouts, our forces would already be in motion."

She paused. She could tell that she was right by the sudden silence in the chamber. They knew she was right, and they knew that she knew it too. Encouraged by the admission, she pressed on.

"Very well then, look at what he did for the Ichijoujan peoples. Would a spy help save the life of a stand-master? Would a traitor risk his own life to save his enemy?"

Kari almost felt like wringing her hands. They had to understand her. They must! "It is said," she said, "that the currency of trust is weighed with deeds, not paper nor speeches. If so, then this man has done more than all of you! And you stand there accusing him of treason?"

She shook her head. "Forget about what your people would think. Forget about your pride. Look past your borders, past your people, for one moment. Think not of how to uphold the honour of your respective nations, but of what is right! We are not merely citizens of Yagami, nor Sheid, nor Ishida. We are citizens of Gaea! We are not your enemy, Khaydarin is! Time is running out! Make the right decision!"

Takeru watched as the delegate's expressions began to change. Kari's words were hitting home because they were, undeniably, right. Even a fool would have figured out that the war between them was foolish and pointless years ago, yet the war was still going on for much the same reason great wrongs are never righted: these men, the most powerful in the known world, had become so caught up in their foolish nationalist pride, they had stopped considering Gaea as their nation, at great cost.

Across the table from him, Takeru saw the tiniest of frowns crease Ida's smooth forehead. Beside her, San shifted slightly in his chair. Takeru could read the tiniest trace of guilt on their demeanors. And with a blinding flash, Takeru realized…

…that in their beds, in the quiet hours when the deepest, most disturbing thoughts of the heart could not be held at bay by the business of the day, every delegate must have seen the same thing. The same thought must have crossed, however fleetingly, across every man and woman's heart at some point or other. After all, none of them were fools. They knew what needed to be done.

It was simply a matter of making them admit it.

A quiet calm came over him at the thought. At the very edge of his consciousness, Takeru was conscious of a faint whisper. It was but a tiny wisp of thought, but it offered a glimpse of such infinite wisdom, majesty and grace that Takeru knew, at once, that it was not him.

Now… it whispered.

Takeru closed his eyes. As you wish, he replied, with a faint smile.

He placed both hands flat on the table, and such was the quiet authority that he wrapped up in that action that every delegate in the room fell silent and stared at him in wordless awe. No longer was he the quiet, gentle young man that the delegates had seen at the gate of Ardinberg. Here was one of high nobility, the last of the glorious Council of stand-masters that had dared to change the world around them, and remake it to their Creator's image. The delegates saw, and their hearts leaped.

"I echo Lady Hikari," he said gravely. "You have all the available information: we have received a clear warning; a warning heralding the greatest invasion that Gaea has ever seen. Victory and death are separated by the thinnest of lines and to waver is to fall. It's time for you to choose.

"Let me remind you that this is no longer a battle for land, for territory, or for foolish pride. This is a battle for survival. If we lose, our peoples will be reduced to slaves. Our traditions, our customs, our cities…all desecrated. All that has stood will fall, and the beautiful dream of peace that inspired the Age of Gods will be forever shattered. Think about that, and then think, not about whether you should trust this warning, but whether you dare to not trust this warning.

"Let me also remind you that you cannot hide from this war. If those who go in your place lose, you will lose as well. You cannot claim neutrality because Khaydarin will stop at nothing but total domination. You can stand with us, or you can fall alone. Let every man decide now which side he will fight on. There is no neutrality. No third party. And no time."

Takeru squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "As for me and my House, I will serve the Creator. I see before me a slim and dangerous path, but I will follow it because I see life at the end of it. When the muster of our lands is complete, the united armies of Ishida, including the combined strength of Saldea, Corin, Isendre, and the Imperial Army of Ichijouji, will march for the Aides wall. My challenge is this: who among you will come with us?"

Nobody spoke at Takeru's blunt and forceful words. Even Nyarc was uncharacteristically silent as he sat on the edge of his seat, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. The hostile silence seemed to stretch on forever as the air thickened with tension. Nobody breathed.

Bjorn stood up. "I realize that time is short," he said gravely, "but I request a recess of three hours of this Council. Such an important decision of state is not to be made lightly."

Takeru nodded. "Of course."

"I also ask," Bjorn added slowly, "that the stand-masters be excluded from these deliberations."

At that, Takeru frowned. "Why?"

"You have presented your case, stand-master. Now let us consider it. Carefully, and without prejudice, just as you have asked."

Takeru stared at the Shienar King, then turned to regard the other delegates at the Head Table. "Does anyone second that motion?"

After a moment of hesitation, Aidan raised his hand. "I do."

Takeru let out a long breath. "Then we shall have a recess," he said slowly. "We shall reconvene in three hours. As you wish, the stand-masters will not participate in your deliberations."

**********

As the delegates gathered in their own chambers to deliberate, Kari followed the other stand-masters into one of the conference rooms left further down the wing. As she walked into the sunlit room, she was conscious of a clammy feeling coating the inside of her hands and her throat. She felt feverish, and a dull roar thudded in her ears. Never before had she longed so much to be at Aidan's side, to guide him and to convince him of the veracity and urgency of her case, but the door to Aidan's delegation room was shut.

As the door closed behind them, she exchanged glances with the other stand-masters. Their faces mirrored her own frustrations.

"I feel helpless," she confessed.

"We are," Ken said softly.

"I feel like we should be doing more…," Yolei muttered.

Takeru looked at the others. "There is one thing we can do."

Davis, Ken, Cody and Yamato all looked up. "What?" Yamato said hoarsely.

Takeru pushed up his sleeves and sank onto his knees. "Pray," he said simply. "We have done our part. Now it's time for the Creator to do his…"

So the intolerable minutes passed. And for three interminable hours, as the future of Gaea swung precariously on the brink between death and life, the stand-masters prayed. And prayed. And prayed…

The mountain will move, Kari thought silently to herself, over and over again. It will, because it must…

*********

Three hours later, she watched with a dry mouth as the delegates gravely filed back into the conference room. Her knees ached from kneeling for three hours, but she did not regret it. It had been the only way she could have survived the wait. Never before had they prayed so fervently, nor with such conviction. As Takeru said, it was out of their hands now.

Aidan walked up to the Head Table, inclined his head in greeting and took his place at the head of his delegation. Kari could discern tension in his face. Hope. Fear. Urgency. But she could not guess at what it meant. Slowly, she returned the nod. Her throat was so tight, it was all she could do. One after the other, the announcer's loud voice rifled through the names of the assembly.

"King Bjorn of all Sheid!"

"King San of all Fan-Tzu!"

Kari tuned them out. She turned to look imploringly at Takeru, but for once she could derive no solace from him. His face looked as taut as she felt. His trembling grip on the edge of the High Table was so tight his knuckles were white. So, she rubbed her sweaty palms together and folded them into her lap, forcing herself to sit still as the last of the delegates filed into the room.

Finally, the announcers called out "Lord Corin of Isendre!" and rapped the floor of the chamber loudly with their gilded staffs. "The assembly is complete!"

When the echoes had died away, Takeru stood up. "The recess is over," he said quietly. "Do the nations have a response?"

Kari couldn't breath. She could barely hear anything over the thudding of her own heart. She felt like her heart would burst. Please, she prayed one last time. Please…

Bjorn stood up.

"We have reached a decision," he announced without preamble. Turning to allow his gaze to sweep across the Head Table, his eyes finally alighted onto Takeru. "Lady Hikari, was right about one thing.

"The currency of trust is in deeds, not words nor treaties. And it is in that currency, and no other, that we trust…." He smiled briefly. "We may not trust each other…but we trust you."

And with that, Bjorn squared his shoulders. "I," he said formally, "King Bjorn of all Sheid, pledge the full support of my soldiers to the service of Lord Takeru, Emperor of all Ishida."

A stunning electric bolt shot through Kari's heart. Sitting bolt upright, she stared at Bjorn. Yes…

As Bjorn's words faded away, Aidan shifted beside Kari and stood up. Reaching out, he rested one slender hand on Kari's shoulder. "The stand-masters," he said with utter conviction, "have shown nothing but wisdom and compassion to me and my people. As they have aided me when all I gave them was hatred and scorn, so I will aid them when they call. The full might of the Yagami military stands ready to serve."

San grunted as he rose to his feet. "I have seen these men and women work miracles that I cannot hope to comprehend. They have brought peace between nations when years of effort had done nothing. To reject their counsel now seems to be the height of foolishness to me. Fan-Tzu will go."

"It is no foolishness to rally behind the best and brightest hope for us all," Ida said coolly as she rose as well. "Jakt will come to do her part in the final Seihad."

Kari couldn't believe her eyes. It was as if the leaders of the Head Table had broken an invisible layer of ice, through which a torrent of hope now poured. Her heart leaped as one by one, the most powerful men and women in Gaea stood and proclaimed their allegiance to the alliance. Some proudly, some reluctantly, some fearfully and some with ill-concealed contempt, but in moments, the floor was a forest of rising, chanting lords and ladies, pledging their support of the march. It was working.

They had done it.

They had done it!

When the last delegate had stood up and given his pledge, Bjorn rose again. After receiving nods from all the other delegates at the Head Table, he placed his hand over his heart. "The armies of Gaea will march the slim, dangerous path with you, Lord Takeru," he said solemnly. "For we too, now see life at the end of it."

It was the sweetest thing Kari had ever heard.

Completely uncaring about what others thought of her, she sank into her chair, buried her face in her hands and wept. She wept with joy. She wept with newfound hope. She wept as the overwhelming power of the Creator swept through the room like a whirlwind. The scars were still there. But the healing had at last, at long last, truly begun…

Thank you, she thought fervently. Thank you!

"Then let it be known!" she heard Takeru shout over the roaring in her ears. "Let it be known that this great day, the final alliance of the Seitzin  the Holy Warriors, was born!"

**********

And so it was recorded.

As Gaea neared the brink of history, an ominous stillness settled over the land. For the first time in over twenty years, there were no battles and no skirmishes. The warfront between the nations quieted as formerly deadly armies called a general cease fire, and the land fell eerily silent in the absence of their warcries. Khaydarin armies mysteriously withdrew from all their battlefronts and disappeared into thin air, leaving besieged cities behind as the people cautiously opened their doors and ventured out, wondering what had caused the unexpected retreat. At a time when the summer sun should have filled the land, an impenetrable gray mantle of clouds covered all of Gaea. Yet no storms blew. Not a whisper of wind stirred the grassy fields of Yagami, the dry dust of the Saera desert, the boreal trees of Sheid or the summit snows of Ishida and Novinha. For weeks, the sun did not shine on the once warm lands of Gaea, and farmers looked up in puzzlement as they stood in the middle of their cold, gray fields. It was as if nature herself was becoming still. Gathering herself, as it were, for the final, great storm.

In the middle of this great stillness, the nations of Gaea began their final, greatest muster. Every last soldier was called from reserve, and carefully armed and supplied. All across the land, clear, silver trumpets rang across the land, bidding armies to rise and follow in the great muster. Yagami's harbours were beehives of activity as men frantically loaded food and supplies onto already overburdened and under-crewed ships, and sent them to Akansata, Sheid in preparation for the Seitzin's final push. Across the southern Saera desert, great clouds of dust roiled into the land as tens of thousands of Jakt soldiers trekked out of their own realm and across the wasteland to join their Fan-Tzu allies. Everywhere, swift Taelidani scouts could be seen riding across the land like the wind, bringing the news of the Conference to every stronghold and fortress of every nation, large and small. Wherever they visited, the muster began anew. In Ishida, the ragtag but hardy guerilla armies of the Ishidan lords streamed out of the mountains and across the myriad borders into Ardinberg valley like hordes of ants. In Sheid, the master-smiths furnaces glowed white-hot day and night, as men laboured to produce swords, halberds, spears, shields and armour for the determined but ill-supplied Ichijoujan army. As if taking a deep breath, the peoples of Gaea mustered the greatest army that had ever been seen on Heaven's Land. Two hundred and fifty thousand it numbered, with skilled fighters from every nation and power in the land. The leaders of Gaea gathered their fighters, and prayed that it would be enough. For now, the darkest hour of the Seihad was upon them, and the grave truth was in the air, though men did not speak of it. It was time to do battle, or die.

For the stand-masters, it was a time of even greater preparation as they attended meeting after meeting with the leaders of all the land. Painstakingly, the invasion of Ichijouji was carefully laid out from detail to detail as they pored over maps and charts. Party after party of scouts were put out to skim the borders of Khaydarin-held Ichijouji, probing and testing the strength of their enemies, then riding back to report. It seemed that none of them had time for sleep anymore, and even Davis had given over to the grim frenzy of work before the final push.

Yet, every now and then, Kari would pause from her work. She would look up from the map she was studying, or away from the leaders she was talking with. She would look away, and she would smile. Cocking her head, she would hear it. The tangible rumbling, so slight and so gradual that nobody else seemed to notice. And yet, it was real.

The mountain was moving…

**Author's notes:

Sorry for not posting. I seem to spend a lot of time apologizing don't I? But well…University happened, and believe me that's a pretty big adjustment already. Then I got distracted with playing around with Photoshop, developing a fanart of Kari, then with Chrono Cross…well, a lot happened. Sorry about that. I've probably lost all my readers by now. Ah well. I can't say I blame you…*sweatdrops*

I really don't like this chapter, and I have no-one to blame but myself. If it seemed contrived, well…yes it is. It's because of lack of planning. That's why I should never start posting until the whole story has been written ^_^. But then if I did that, it would take about a year between posts, so this is the best compromise.

Hope you liked it. (yeah right). I'm not even sure I like this story anymore, but I'll finish it just because I've already spent so much time on it and it would be a pity to let it go to waste by not finishing it.