Part Thirteen: The Woven Shield

There was one reason that Isaaru didn't often leave the garrison complex, apart from the fact that there was very little if anything for him to do outside. It was that the heat, combined with his heavy formal robes, made for one very uncomfortable ex-Summoner. Raised in the Bevelle region's rather temperate climate, he was singularly unsuited for such arid environments as he now had the misfortune to find himself. The lingering soreness from Yuna's well-aimed attack wasn't helping him at all.

But it might have just knocked some sense into him. There was something he couldn't stop thinking about, something about her reaction...

The unlatching of bolts distracted him, forcing him to redirect his attention outside of himself. He stood on the docks that extended outwards in a criss-cross of wooden jetties, waiting as the speedy little craft that Ismene had claimed as her personal transport extended its gang plank to allow the Priestess's entourage disembark.

First came the armoured guards, and Isaaru couldn't help but felt vaguely sorry them. He could just imagine how hot the metal some of them were forced to wear was getting under the glare of the sun, and rather thought that the lesser ranked soldiers, who were not required to don such garments, were feeling very lucky indeed.

And then followed Ismene, looking far more comfortable in her religious robes than she had any right to. Isaaru knew his place, falling into step just behind her and to the right of her, the guards stepping back as he did so, widening the gaps in the ranks so that the two of them could speak with at least the seeming of privacy.

"Well, Isaaru," Ismene said, with the air of one speaking of something amusing. "It seems you will not be too long in your exile here."

"Priestess?"

"The day, Isaaru," Ismene said, gracing him with a smile and prompting his memory with arched eyebrows. "The day of birth is nearly upon us."

It took him a moment to recall what it was she was talking about. "Ah, I see," he said, nodding slowly. "You wish me to return, then, to oversee."

"Of course," said the High Priestess. "I am quickly tiring of Lady Yuna and her most disagreeable nature. I do not intend to give her any more attention, not until her child is born, something which you will also oversee, and then she may have outlived her usefulness."

Isaaru tried not to breath a too-audible sigh of relief as they ducked into the tunnel, the cool of the underground passage closing into to relieve the sweltering heat of the sun. "I don't think I ever intended my role in life to be that of a midwife, but it seems to have become just so."

Ismene actually laughed, the sound like dry leaves rustling together. "If it is so, it is because there is no one better suited for the task."

And also no one who Yevon could browbeat into helping them, Isaaru didn't say, and fell silent a while as he considered the issue that had been lingering at the forefront of his mind for a while.

They climbed the steps that seemed to rise up interminably, until they reached two ornate doors, pushed open by burly guards who held them open while they passed. The sunlight streamed in through the high windows, leaving blurry afterimages on Isaaru's vision as his eyes struggled to adapt to the sudden increase in light.

"If it is not too impertinant, High Priestess, may I ask a question?"

Ismene smiled indulgently at him. "Of course, Isaaru. What is it?"

"Do you..." Isaaru licked his lips in his nervousness. Ismene was liable not to react well to his disagreeing with her plans. "Do you still intend to carry out this course of action? Your supporters in the church are many, but they may not have the stomach-"

"Why, Isaaru," Ismene stopped, coming to face him completely. "Is this a sign of interest where previously there was none? Perhaps Lady Yuna has her uses indeed, if she can give you cause to care for anything again."

"Perhaps I simply needed time to recover," Isaaru said, not liking the way she was looking at him. "Or to consider what you are planning."

Ismene's smile was brittle. "Do you intend to step away from the path? Perhaps seek to 'spread the word'?"

Isaaru swallowed. "Of course not, Priestess."

"Good," Ismene stepped close to him, close enough that he wanted to back away. But he held his ground. "Because I would not want you to think that it would be at all wise to do so. Do you wish Spira to fall to the fighting and warfare that was rife in the time before Sin? Do you wish the people to fall away from the one thing, Yevon, which held them together through their time of strife? The people of Spira are as children, Isaaru, they need guidance. And like children, it must be delivered subtlely."

Ismene drew herself up. "Am I clear?"

Isaaru bowed, low and formally. "Yes, High Priestess Ismene, you have made yourself quite clear."

"Excellant," All trace of harshness gone, Ismene smiled, and swept away down the corridor, leaving Isaaru standing alone.

Making his decision, he headed in the opposite direction.

"I'll make this brief."

Yuna glanced up from here she had been studiously examining the edge of the rug which covered most of the centre of the room. Her toes just touched the fringed edge of the carpeting. "Please do," she said with a pleasant smile.

Ismene didn't seem to take Yuna's facial expression too well. "Do you find something about this situation amusing, Lady Yuna?"

"This particular situation? Not amusing, no. Gratifying somehow."

"Oh?"

Yuna tilted her head, folding her hands neatly before her. It was a stance she had assumed before countless teachers in times past, as she politely recited the answer to some assigned question. It was, in all truth, partially designed to irritate the woman. Yuna could get little other than cheap shots at her in, although she considered it somewhat beneath her to do so, without her guards deciding to take potshots at /her/. "That still you come, knowing my answer, in the vain hope that it will have changed. How infuriating it must be for you, Priestess, to constantly have to ask for my aid, knowing it cannot be extracted involuntarily. That it the source of my gratification: that you may hold me prisoner and hostage, but really, you do not hold anything of value at all."

"I could have your child," Ismene said, sourly.

Yuna just spread her hands in a 'come and try' gesture.

Ismene ground her teeth together for a moment. "Will you help us?"

"I will not."

"Hmph. Your stubbornness is hardly a becoming trait."

Yuna just smiled, serenely.

"So I, perhaps, have only one thing left to ask you." Ismene narrowed her eyes, glaring belligerently at the High Summoner. "Do have anything to say for yourself?"

Yuna's eyes flickered upwards, contemplating the oil lamps that were perched on the wall on either side of the doorframe. They were unlit, but if anyone were to look it at them in the dark it would quickly become apparent that there was an unmistakeable, if faint, glow about them.

"Not really, except, maybe, goodbye?"

It was not possible for a mage to cast two spells simultaneously. But Yuna was no mere novice, and for the advanced and practiced mage, it was entirely possible to cast spells so quickly in sequence that to an outside observer they may as well have been cast at once.

Which is precisely what Yuna did.

In her head, she lined up the chant as she always did, her haste forcing her to couch the intent into no more than a syllable or so. In truth, words weren't important, it was the intent more than anything which allowed the mage to perform their magic. For white mages, the intent to take pain by purging poison, or for a fire spell, the wish to see things burn.

Like the fire gems she had laid into the oil lamps.

They were already unstable. All they need was a gentle nudge in order to combust. A candle flame would have done it, but Yuna, for all intents and purposes, might as well have encased them in a fireball. The fire gems ignited in a roar that drowned out the sound of their glassy shells cracking. And as soon as they lit, the oil in the lamps burst into flames, the lamps exploding outwards and showering anything within ten feet with hot and flaming oil, sparks catching the other lamps, causing a cascade of minor explosions and finally plunging the room into mostly darkness.

Yuna had the sense to be further than that away from the wall (ten steps she had carefully paced out away from the door), and was completely unsurprised when the explosion had the effect of demolishing most of the doorframe.

Ismene had good guards. The moment the flames had erupted, the two either side of her had jumped on her, pulling her to the floor and covering her until the worst had gone. The moment it was safe to stand, a third guard grabbed the High Priestess, and hauled her away from the chaos, while the rest of the soldiers formed up, brandishing their weapons and starting towards Yuna.

The former Summoner took a deep breath, steading herself. Spellcasting without aides was something she had become far too unaccustomed to, and her pregnancy had a draining effect in and of itself. She took stock of her reserves and began to cast a shield before her. It wouldn't protect her from harm entirely, but it might give her enough of an edge that she could break through the lines and make a run for it.

Then the room darkened, far beyond what destroying the lamps should have done. The silhouettes of the guards, shown by the light of the hallway, faded to mere grey shadows. Then lightning plunged down from above, striking in the dead centre of the ranks, causing Yuna to yelp and raise her hands to cover her eyes from the flash of blue and white light.

She heard two more crashes that signified strikes, and the yelling of guards in pain. By the time she cracked open her eyes to survey the scene, the guards were all lying on the floor, unconscious or otherwise so stunned that they could do little more than moan occasionally.

She glanced up to the doorway, and the remaining silhouettes.

The guard who had picked her off the floor earlier looked back at her, and, after a moment, pulled off her helmet. Her hair braids spilled free, and Lulu graced the Summoner with a smile.

"I thought it was you," Yuna said, lifting her skirt so that she didn't trip as she carefully picked her way over the insensate forms on the floor. "What took you so long?"

"Infiltrating Yevon isn't easy, ya?" That was Wakka as he was pulling off his pilfered helmet. The other three guards still standing were doing the same, and Yuna recognised them instantly as Al-Bhed. She remembered them from the airship.

"Thanks for the fire gems," Yuna added, with a grin. "They were very useful."

"Thank Rikku," Lulu said, running a hand to separate the damp braids even as she shucked the uncomfortable looking armour. "A gift from Home."

"Rikku's not here?" Yuna glanced around, but did not catch sight of her blonde Al-Bhed cousin.

"She and Cid are on the airship waiting for our signal. We're to meet them outside and they'll come and pick us up."

"Then let's go!"

The others exchanged fond and pleased glances between them, and then hurried after Yuna, lest the girl leave them behind as she ran.

Yuna had, in between breaths as they hurried along, tried to tell her friends of her experiences in captivity, but apart from the odd confrontation with Ismene or Isaaru there was very little of note to report.

"She kept saying she wanted my help, my cooperation." Yuna bit her lip as they slowed as they reached a T-intersection. One of the Al-Bhed glanced around the corner, before signalling the all-clear and moving them on again.

"But," she continued, "I got the feeling like... like there was something larger that Ismene was planning. Like she wanted to do more than just have me extoling the teachings of Yevon. Or maybe it's that Ismene doesn't strike me as the type for small talk."

"It doesn't matter now," Wakka said, squeezing the elbow he was holding, and using to help her along when her strength flagged. "We have you, ya? That woman ain't going to do anything about you now."

Yuna wished she felt more comforted by those words than she was.

"The fastest way to the exit should be the next left," The Al-Bhed, Yuna thought his name was Atan, said as they ran along the hallways, the soundproofing muffling their passage and making their progress eerily quiet. "Here!"

But the way was blocked. At the end of the hallway stood Ismene, and around here were what seemed like dozens of armed guards, all of them with their weapons unerringly pointed at the rescuers and their charge. Yuna briefly considered their odds of successfully running and escaping, but all of the guards looked to have itchy trigger fingers; they'd never make it out of range in time.

In the end though, it seemed they wouldn't even get the chance. But at least they had an explanation as to why their passage had thus far been unchallenged: the guards had been setting up an ambush.

"I tire of this," Ismene said, lazily gesturing to her guards. "Shoot them."

The guards didn't hesitate, or give them a moment longer to contemplate their fate. They simply fired.

But the bullets never hit them.

Yuna realised why, as she saw the bright blue light burn. Before her, interlocking scales of a shield spell cast off light fiercely as the spell fought to turn the kinetic energy of bullets into heat and light.

Lulu, she thought instantly, but no; the black mage was looking as surprised as the rest of them.

Then she saw Isaaru, standing before him, loops of the shield spell still tangled around his fingers. She winced as she saw it. A degree of a shield spell still had to be bound to a living person, otherwise the scales separated and it was useless. But he wasn't simply still bound to the magic, he hadn't /released/ it yet. He was still feeding etheric strength directly into the spell, bypassing everything a mage was taught, their every instinct.

She knew then how the spell covered the corridor, separating the two groups. Unreleased spells grew in power as the spellcaster retained them in their grip, but it exacted an exponentially greater toll upon the mage.

"Isaaru," Ismene said, folding her arms and somehow managing to sound unsurprised. But Yuna saw the shakiness of her hands that the Priestess had quickly sought to hide. There was no way this was a ploy by the Priestess, nor was it expected. "I should have known you were up to something when no one could find you."

"Just doing a little contemplating, Priestess."

The bullets, having expended their momentum, fell to the floor with a clatter that went unremarked upon.

"And what conclusions have you reached?" Ismene said, tilting her head in an effort to look inquisitive.

"Only this: that you would become Sin anew," Isaaru said, words spat out in cutting shards. "I am a Summoner, born to defeat Sin. You, Ismene, must be stopped."

Ismene actually started, her arms falling to her sides, and her mouth agape. "What are you talking about?!" She demanded, her voice rising to a near-shriek. "You would call me such, you who forsook your pilgrimage, who failed your world, your people, and your church!"

Isaaru said nothing in response, though it was clear the her words stung him.

"I will save Spira from its own foolhardiness. And you and that little whore-" Here, Yuna blinked. "-will accomplish nothing except to plunge Spira into anarchy."

"If anyone is the fool, Ismene," Isaaru said, softly, "It is you."

The High Priestess bristled at the statement.

"Whore?" Yuna repeated, unsure whether to be offended or amused.

"That's enough," Ismene said, her voice frighteningly calm now, as if she had made up her mind about something. "You have outlived your usefulness, all of you. Though, Isaaru, you have outlived yours far sooner than I would have expected."

Everyone fell silent, waiting for Ismene's next move with baited breath.

Into the stillness came Lulu's voice.

"Don't tell me you're feeling crushed."

The air itself seemed to thicken and swell, folding in upon itself. In the gap between the opponents, dark energy gathered, pulling in space itself. The gravity spell took hold, and as it collapsed, it took the corridor with it.

"Come on!" Yuna lunged forward, grabbing at Isaaru's hand. With her fingers, she scythed through the links that kept him connected to his spell of protection. It was a risky thing to do without a doubt, but she had a feeling that he was too far into the magic to have cut the connection himself.

The scales of the shield trembled for a moment, then shattered, flinging apart and then fading into nothing but soft motes of light. Isaaru staggered as if she had punched him in the head, and had no strength to resist as Yuna and her friends hauled him away from the field of battle, Ismene and the last ties he held to the Yevon church.

- End of Part Thirteen