Thank you to everyone who has continued to follow/read this story. I'm always so grateful that you all picked my story to read, and I hope you enjoy this installment!
Content warning: combat injuries including graphic injury to eyes, minor (and I mean minor) character death, and Jean Claude is continuing his misogynistic crap.
The dagger had no sooner plunged into Marik's chest when the shadows sprang apart in a howling whirlwind. Ishtar's scream echoed around them, a combination of discordant denial. The grass beneath his feet ripped from the dirt and flung into the air; Marik's body hadn't even hit the ground before it was pulled into the vortex.
Dirt and pebbles flew in the air around their heads, nearly blinding them as the gales howled over them. Brilliant, white-hot cyan and violet hued flames consumed what was left of the willow tree, scorching the earth beneath it as the fire continued to burn. Green and black shadows rolled up into the tornado, a nearly solid, massive wall of darkness. Within the maelstrom came the sharp scent of ozone as lightning danced in its depths.
An alien wave of horror and grief threatened to overwhelm Yami. These were not his own emotions, but Yugi's. The magic caster had seen what had happened to Marik. His voice was rising, panic and hysteria coloring every word. Yami, tell me you didn't put him up to that! It can't end with his death! Yami, I won't let someone die, not like this—!
"Marik's decision was his own," Yami said, his own voice sounding distant in his ears. He felt the presence at the back of his mind crumple, his counterpart's sobs echoing in his ears. "I would not have put him up to such a thing."
Bakura neither knew nor cared about what was happening to Yami. Inside the center of the concentrated storm, he could just barely make out the glowing and sinister green light of the orichalcum. It was as if the shadows were being pulled towards it, slowly but surely focusing on the stone…
Bakura realized with sudden clarity what was happening and swore. He whirled to face the other Shadow wielder. "Yami, the Orichalcos stone!" he roared over the wind. "Destroy the bloody stone or Ishtar's going to come back!"
Yami's hand slashed the air, conjuring a dagger whose blade was pitch black. The dagger flew, cutting through the shadows as it found its mark—
—and the tip of the dagger dented, bouncing off the stone. The knife exploded into fragments, the pieces dispersing into the howling winds.
Did you believe it so easy to defeat the Orichalcos?
A voice that was neither Ishtar's nor Marik's thundered out of the Shadows. Yami gasped, his hands over his ears as a high-pitched keening began resonating through the air. Another gust of wind shoved him backwards, and he nearly losing his balance; he saw Ishizu and Rishid stagger, and Bakura cast a shield between them to protect them from the shockwaves. Yami hurled another wave of Shadow magic, but it was blocked by a flash of poisonous green.
The Orichalcos is older than your power, older than you by five millennia! You cannot beat it!
A gust of cold air blew past them all, followed by a smaller burst of shadows. Bakura was trying to break through the Shadows, but as he hit the barrier there was another flash. Bakura was knocked out of the air and thrown to the ground beside Yami, his attempt to breach the storm failing.
Yami's eyes narrowed at the wall of writhing shadows. He couldn't tell if this was a defensive spell on Dartz's part, or if Ishtar himself was somehow still doing this, but there were multiple barriers between them and the Orichalcos stone. Even if they breached one barrier, there still came the problem of destroying the orichalcum shard. If Shadow magic was useless against the power of the Orichalcos, how could they stop it from regenerating Ishtar?
"Yami!"
He looked over just as Bakura tossed something to him. It was nearly carried away by the wind, and Yami stepped forward to catch the small object. He looked down at the item, and as he processed what he was staring at he froze.
An orichalcum stone was nestled in the palm of his hand.
"I borrowed it from your shop," Bakura growled, rising to his knees. "I was hoping to get closer, but it looks like we won't be able to breech the barrier. Time's of the essence, Yami. Shadow magic clearly won't work. Diamond cuts diamond—you need to use this!"
Yami took the orichalcum, wincing as the first of many whispers began echoing in his ears. Yugi's grandfather had never allowed either Yami or Yugi to handle the orichalcum outside of its box. As the power thrummed and sang through his hand Yami understood why. If he used this in conjunction with his own powers…surely it would be enough…
Yami, I'll handle the orichalcum, Yugi said suddenly, his voice dispelling the whispers. Though his presence radiated grief, his voice was even. Let me have control.
Yami hesitated only a moment before he retreated. As much as he was loathe to admit it, Yugi was right. The Shadows clearly could be held ransom to the power of the Orichalcos, and Yami was infused with Shadow magic. Be careful, Yugi, he warned.
Yugi staggered as he regained his feet, pushing aside his pain and grief. There would be time to mourn Marik later, but now he had to fight to make sure Marik's sacrifice had not been made in vain.
He searched for Rishid in the bellowing winds, squinting against the dirt, dust, and grass flying around them. "Rishid!" he called when he found him, and he saw the Enterran look over. He felt a pang as he saw the tear tracks visible on his face. "Do you have a knife?"
Rishid blinked back tears, clearly struggling to think through his sorrow. Even so, Yugi saw Rishid fumble at his side. The Enterran waited until the next gust of wind had died before tossing a sheathed knife to him.
Yugi nearly missed it as it sailed over his head but managed to snag it before it bounced away. He pulled out a strap of leather and used it to bind the orichalcum shard to the hilt. From within the sheath, the blade gained a sickly green hue. Once he was done, he looked to Bakura. "We've got to find a way to part the Shadows!" he called over the wind.
The thief sighed, regaining his feet after a second's pause. "How did I get stuck playing the hero?" he muttered. He met Yugi's eyes and said, "Leave it to me. He has the Orichalcos, but the Shadows are mine—they always have been."
Without replying any further Bakura blurred once more, until his own body was swallowed by the darkness. All that Yugi could see were red eyes gleaming from the depths of the dark.
The sinewy form slithered across the glass, solidifying into a spear that slammed once more into the wall of Shadows. A golden gleam erupted from Bakura's chest and the barrier slowly started to part. Green lightning began crackling in protest, a high-pitched whine that clashed against the Shadows, but it could not hold.
Bakura's body reformed inside the cleft made by his own power, his arms spread as he pushed outwards; the thief was calling on the Shadows within Ishtar's barrier to push it apart. His voice was a strangled snarl, giving one short order:
"NOW!"
Yugi wasted no further time. "Peridere lapidem," he said sharply, waving a hand over the hilt. He felt a warm tingle leave his fingertips and a shoot of magic flew into the hilt; the orichalcum briefly gleamed in response, the spell binding to it and the weapon. Yugi straightened then, looking for his target—and then all thought fled, his face draining of color.
Marik was standing in the center of the maelstrom, the Eye of the Shadow items gleaming brightly on his forehead. His eyes were shut, magic the only force holding him up. The Millennium Rod was still firmly lodged in Marik's chest.
"What's happening?" Yugi called, looking to Bakura. "Bakura, how—"
"Do you think I know anything? I've never used the Orichalcos before!" Bakura snapped, his own eyes holding alarm. "I have no idea what's happening!"
Yugi looked closer, squinting against the wind. He could see the orichalcum stone that had held Ishtar together moving slowly towards Marik…then he understood. Ishtar wasn't gone yet, he was planning to bind himself to Marik using the Orichalcos.
Whether or not that plan would succeed, Yugi couldn't let this continue. A grimly determined expression replaced his frightened one. His grip on the dagger tightened before he straightened and threw the dagger.
The wind caught it and carried it, the dagger spinning in the air clumsily. It seemed it would veer wildly off course. Then, mimicking Yami's earlier gesture, Yugi waved his hand sharply and his enchantment activated, seeking the other shard of orichalcum. The knife cut through the air, passing over Bakura's head and homing in on the single point of green light in the darkness.
The Orichalcos-infused blade lodged itself into the stone, and poisonous green lightning flared from both the dagger and shadows—and then there came a sharp crack and the orichalcum shards exploded. Green light burst outwards, blinding in its intensity.
For the second time that day, Ishtar screamed.
As the orichalcum broke apart, one final shockwave blasted outward. Bakura had been pushed to the limit of his own strength and had even started tapping into Ryou's own life energy to part the barrier, and the final push against him proved to be unconquerable. His body instantly vanished, the Ring bouncing and rolling away into the grass.
Yugi shielded his eyes against the flare of light, and just before he was forced to look away he saw that both the shadows and the power of the Orichalcos had been forced back off Marik, pooling behind him to reform Ishtar.
The whirlwind suddenly died, the eerie howl of the wind ceasing instantly. Marik's body hit the charred ground with a sickening thud, the Millennium Rod still solidly lodged in his chest. The spirit stood stock still, his mouth snapping shut as he registered the shards of orichalcum in the grass.
Ishtar looked up at them all, his head cocked almost comically. His gaze went to Marik, staring at his creator for several long moments; a myriad of emotions began crossing his features, confusion blending into shock and finally transitioning into something completely unreadable. His eyes shifted upwards, looking around at all of them, and then he began to chuckle.
The small giggle rose in pitch and intensity until he was practically howling in laughter, the sound never ceasing even as the wind started to rise and roar once again. The triumphant cackles bounced off the stone walls, mocking and terrifying echoes all around them.
Ishtar's body exploded outward, dark shadows burning away and out of sight as he disappeared, his laughter still audible—
And as suddenly as it began, everything stopped.
The blood of Seers had long flowed in the veins of the Ishtar clan's women
Time had not been kind towards their clan. The gift of seeing the future had come and gone with varying strength, and that was even before the matriarchs had started using the Tauk. But by the time Ishizu had been born, this precious ability had all but vanished from their clan. No visions, no warnings of what was to come…nothing, not even after the powers of the Millennium Tauk had been added.
Ishizu was the first child in decades who could truly harness her gift. As a young girl she'd had snatches of foresight even before she was presented with the Tauk, and the Item only served to amplify her power. They had been limited in when it came to Marik because of his connection to the Millennium Rod, but her power had grown since the clan had been dispersed.
The greatest and cruelest of ironies was that those recessive powers had finally allowed her to see Marik's future without the aid of the Tauk. Not snippets or flashes of image and sound, but an honest to the gods vision—and it had been of her brother's death, an unpreventable event that occurred literal seconds after she had seen it.
As the wind died and Ishtar's laughter faded, she found herself already walking towards Marik's lifeless body, to the brother she had only just been reunited with. Ishtar had vanished in the first step she took, then the wind died within the next three…ten steps away…six…
Ishizu made it halfway to Marik before her knees gave out beneath her and she buckled, sinking onto the scored and charred ground of the garden. An impossible heavy pressure settled on her shoulders; the atmosphere was still thick with remnants of Shadow magic. The sobs clawed at her throat but did not escape. Rishid had passed her and was now standing over Marik with shocked eyes and an expression still too incredulous to be anguished.
Because it was not possible. Marik could not be dead.
And yet…
There was not very much blood, she noted dully. She could just barely see the small red patch that marred Marik's shirt beneath the Rod; he'd probably never felt the moment of his death. Her eyes lifted to the lax features of the boy's face, something deceptively tranquil about his expression, and felt something inside her shatter.
She watched silently as Yugi came to them, his eyes overbright. "This belongs to you," he said quietly as he held out the Tauk, a tremor in his voice.
He turned away, striding to where the Millennium Ring had fallen. He crouched to the ground to gingerly lift it and deposit it in a pocket of his cloak. His eyes traveled to the Millennium Rod, and he made a small step forward before he checked himself. Ishizu knew what he was thinking of doing—the Rod could not be left where it was—but no one had the heart to remove it. Doing so meant disturbing Marik's body, and…
She lifted the Tauk with numb fingers, mechanically fastening the clasp and letting it settle once more around her neck. Instead of feeling comforted she felt distant and cold—there was no point in seeing the future now.
They heard the distant sound of a roaring dragon, and as they looked up at the sky, they could all see a flash of silver and white. Even as they watched, the shape of a White Dragon was becoming more pronounced. Kaiba and Alister were almost here, and with them would be the rest of Jou's men. The tides would soon be turning.
When Ishizu's attention returned to Marik, it was to find that he was no longer lying on the ground. Rishid had finally sunk down to lift the boy's body into his arms and was holding Marik close to him; the Rod was still embedded in their brother's body, but it may as well have not existed to Rishid. She could not see the emotions of her older brother's face, but she recognized the trembling in Rishid's shoulders all the same. She rose to her feet, coming closer. "Rishid…"
He was repeating something under his breath. She couldn't hear what he was saying at first, and she moved to settle beside them. Tears had started splashing on the Rod, water dripping down its spherical head.
"Marik…Marik…Marik…"
And then the significance of that one word dawned on her, and her heart wrenched and broke. The tears finally started to fall as the first of choked sobs escaped her, and she threw her arms around both of her brothers as she broke down.
Jou ducked underneath a halberd and used his sword to cut through the wood, spinning on his heel to plant his opposite foot in the man's chest. "Get out of the way!" he roared, deliberately stepping on the newly fallen guard to make sure he would not rise.
It had taken him about ten minutes of dodging strikes and knocking men down, but he had finally located Jean Claude in the chaos. The other man had been trying to sneak out of the room, but Ryou had intercepted him and had pushed him back to the throne. Jou was currently trying to make his way over to Ryou and Jean Claude, knowing that a dagger and potions against a sword forged from the scales of a White Dragon was a largely one-sided fight. However—
"Dammit, get out of the way!" he growled, shoving another man aside. "I don't have time for this!"
Someone backed into him and knocked him off balance. Jou yelped, nearly hitting the stone floor. A hand caught him by the arm and hauled him back to his feet before he could.
"Sorry," Raphael apologized, steadying the shorter man. One man lunged at them, and Raphael's arm shot out and planted itself squarely in the man's chest; because their opponent did not seem to have a weapon, he was trying to swing his fists at them. Raphael held him back with ease, nearly rolling his eyes.
"Don't be, pretty sure I tripped over you," Jou replied hastily, snarling as he lashed out with his sword to keep another enemy away. "I need to get over to the throne! Jean Claude's over there!"
"So why aren't you going?" Tristan asked, casually kicking away the man that Raphael was holding back. The guard staggered into a group of battling men, disappearing in the chaos.
"Because these idiots won't let me by!" Jou snarled.
As Jou's eyes moved to the throne, he saw Ryou stiffen in mid motion, his eyes wide and his features draining of color. He was wide open for an attack, and Jean Claude was taking full advantage of the distraction.
Jou whistled sharply. "RYOU, PAY ATTENTION!"
Jean Claude's sword sliced through the air in front of Ryou. The white-haired man barely managed to avoid the blow. There was a motion Jou couldn't quite catch, however, and then Ryou tumbled and fell against the wall. His dagger bounced away as it hit the floor, and Ryou made no move to get it.
But Jean Claude did not take advantage of Ryou's situation. Instead, he sprinted for a space on the wall, and Jou realized where Jean Claude was going with growing horror. As his enemy pushed in a brick and the passage opened, Jou shoved his way through the crowd. "Jean Claude! Don't you dare, you coward!"
The passage closed behind him before Jou could get there. He slammed his fist into the same brick that Jean Claude had pressed on, but it was of no use—Jean Claude had sealed the passage from inside.
Raphael and Tristan had followed after Jou. While the steward went after Jou and began ramming his shoulder into the wall, Raphael came to kneel beside Ryou. The young man was clutching his shoulder, and his face was pale and drawn. His brown eyes were blank but impossibly wide, stunned disbelief plainly visible.
Raphael caught the sight of blood on the front of the boy's shirt. "You're hurt. Stay still."
Ryou blinked and then rubbed his eyes, taking note of the blood. "I thought I'd dodged him," he replied shakily, grimacing as he looked at his bloody palm. "I guess I hadn't. I-I'll be all right, I've still got healing potion on me."
Ryou's voice was trembling, the brown eyes too bright. Raphael's heart sank. Something had happened that had made Ryou only barely acknowledge his wound—something that wasn't in this throne room. "Ryou, what happened? Does it have something to do with the others who went after Ishtar?"
"I-I'll tell you later," Ryou said, his voice curt and pained. "Right now, I…I need to take care of this wound. Stop Jou from dislocating his shoulder on that wall."
Raphael hesitated before he reluctantly left Ryou to come behind Jou and Tristan. "Can Jean Claude get out of the castle through that passage?" he asked them.
"Not that way, but that's not the problem!" Tristan grunted, stopping to catch his breath.
"Then what—?"
"There's one other passage you can get into from in there, and it leads to only one place!" Jou said, ramming his shoulder one last time into the wall. He paused, breathless and panicked as he met Raphael's gaze. "He's going to the north tower!"
It took Raphael only seconds to realize the significance of this location. "Is there a way you can intercept him before he gets there?" he asked, his voice strangled and only barely level.
"Yeah, but that means getting out of the throne room first. Because Ryou sealed the other exits, I've gotta go through the main door!" Jou replied angrily. "It was a struggle just getting up here! Even if I shove my way out of this mess, I'll never make it in time!"
Jou stalked to the edge of the raised landing they stood on and faced the battling crowd. A wild idea, borne of sheer desperation, came to him and he decided why not.
"WOULD EVERYBODY JUST STOP FOR FIVE SECONDS!?" he roared at the top of his lungs.
He hadn't thought it would work, and so when the whole throne room stilled Jou felt his jaw drop in complete surprise.
Tristan and Raphael were also completely flabbergasted that it had worked. "Leave it to Jou to do the impossible," muttered the brown-haired young man, shaking his head. Noticing that his friend was still frozen with shock, he strode forward and shoved Jou forward. "Go, man, before they recover!" he hissed.
Jou stumbled forward, but he recovered almost instantly. He hurried past the stunned and silent men, enemy and ally alike. Once he made it to the main entrance, he turned to face the group.
"Er…thanks. You can, uh, go back to fighting," he said awkwardly, and to make a point he mimed swinging a sword.
There was another pause, and then the throne room erupted into pandemonium once again. Jou did not register this at all, already sprinting down the hall and into the room with the hidden entrance. He did not even pause to grab the torch. Within seconds he was hurtling headlong through the darkened passage as he ran along the practically memorized path.
Don't let me be too late repeated in his head like a mantra, so fervently so that at times Jou was unsure if he had been saying it out loud or not. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get to the tower before Jean Claude did.
Téa had heard them coming first and reached for a thick oak staff. She got to her feet just as the horn sounded and the clatter of hooves over the drawbridge echoed through the gates. Those of the troupe and the less wounded of Jou's allies had been rounding up any Jean Claude's guards that had made it out into the courtyard, preventing them from either escaping or attacking the severely wounded. They had been kept busy since Jou had moved into the castle.
Next to her, Jethro started and reached for his own weapon as he heard the horses; he had been sitting nearby Adias and watching tensely as the only healer in the troupe worked to save Corda. There had been other wounded, but they had been cared for by the time Corda had arrived; they were stable enough to be left on their own, many of them unconscious or too badly battered to allow them to stand.
Adias groaned. Though his expression conveyed irritation, there was no mistaking the uneasiness in his eyes. "Now what?" he groaned as he lifted his spear back into his hands.
Téa watched in uneasy silence as the horses entered the courtyard, about thirty or so men in the group and all armed. One of them, a handsome young man whose long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, spotted her. He nudged his horse towards her. His green eyes lit with recognition, and Téa lowered her staff as she realized where she'd met him before.
"Lord Devlin, what brings you here?" she asked, relaxing. Behind her, Jethro, Adias, and the few men who could still lift a weapon backed down, though they still watched the armed unfamiliar men as closely as hawks.
Duke dismounted in one smooth motion, and Téa started as a young woman clothed in yellow joined him at his side. "I'm Mai's cousin. It seems she's gotten herself into quite the mess," he replied. "Why are you here? The last I saw you was when you were visiting with your troupe last summer."
"Small world," she responded with a sigh. "More than one of my friends ended up involved in this."
Duke's head shook, his eyes moving over the wounded in the tent. His expression softened as he turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Jarrod, Saul, help these men take care of their wounded."
"Where's Princess Mai?" the black-haired woman demanded as two men passed her, both heading to help with the injured guards. "Is she alright?"
"I think she's in the throne room with the rest of Prince Jousef's men," replied Téa. While she did know this woman, she was certain she was a friend of Mai's; the fine yellow silk gown was proof of that.
As Duke started directing his men, the woman in yellow disappeared into the castle. Téa caught a movement from the corner of her eye and her expression brightened when she saw Yugi coming toward her. Behind him, Rishid and Ishizu were following him slowly, and she caught sight of Marik being cradled in his older brother's arms; the other boy wasn't moving, likely unconscious. Téa returned her attention to Yugi, and words failed to express the relief she felt when she registered Yugi had no wounds.
"Yugi!" she called ecstatically, already half jogging to him.
There was another flurry of movement as a prone man on the ground suddenly sprang to his feet and rushed her; the enemy guard had been unconscious earlier, knocked out by one of Jou's men as he had escaped the castle. She caught sight of Yugi's alarmed face before she neatly pirouetted in place, using both her arms and the momentum of her twirl to slam the staff against the side of the man's face.
She waited to see if he would rise again, but she'd successfully downed him. As a couple of Duke's men restrained him, Téa continued her way to Yugi. As she drew closer, she caught sight of the red-rimmed eyes and the dejected slump in his shoulders. She felt a strange wave of pressure around them, the atmosphere thick with grief and something she couldn't identify.
"Yugi?" she asked cautiously, kneeling in front of him to make eye contact. "What happened?"
He met her gaze reluctantly, taking a steadying breath before he managed in a wobbling voice, "We fought Ishtar."
Téa had never seen Ishtar for herself, but she had seen and heard what he was capable of and knew any encounter with him would only end in tragedy. Yugi looked fine, but what of Yami? Was he hurt? She caught sight of the Millennium Ring and felt a new stab of concern—Bakura would never willingly let anyone take hold of the Ring. How badly was he hurt?
"Did…did you defeat him?" she asked uncertainly.
The shorter boy spasmed, shooting a look to the Enterrans behind him before his face turned away from hers. "We did, but…but not without a price."
Téa looked over Yugi's head. She saw the open, raw, and wounded misery that lined Rishid's and Ishizu's faces. When she looked to Marik, she finally saw the small splash of crimson on his shirt, something golden stuck into his chest. She paled, her trembling hands rising over her mouth. "Oh no…"
"H-He didn't…" Yugi was trying to talk steadily but failing. "He… Téa, he…"
Yugi looked away then, his eyes too bright once again. "I couldn't help him."
Téa reached for the wizard and hauled him in for a hug before she could stop herself. Yugi practically sagged into her arms. A soft, choked whimper rose out of him at her touch. Though Marik was on the wrong side of the law, Yugi had still counted him as a friend and one he cared about—the Enterran's death had hit him hard, especially under such traumatic circumstances.
She started rubbing his back in soothing circles before she looked to Rishid and Ishizu, struggling to find the right words to comfort them as well. She was given no chance to speak—l the sound of beating wings from the sky and the shadow that fell over them interrupted the moment.
Téa's head shot up just as the huge form of a White Dragon flew over the top of the wall; she felt Yugi push away and even in his misery had already pulled his staff level with the sky. In the next second she watched as a figure leapt from the dragon, dropping towards the courtyard at breakneck speed. He reached out for a banner hanging from the wall and used it to slow his momentum, though he ended up rolling and regaining his feet near the stables.
Duke and his men started in surprise at the newcomer, caught off guard by both his arrival and the dragon that soared away overhead. Even as they drew their swords, however, Jethro started forward and placated the new guards; he had been stunned to see the man fall from the sky, even more so when he realized that he knew this who this mysterious newcomer was.
Téa ignored all of them and focused on Alister. "They're in the throne room!" she called.
The red-haired man nodded once before he sprinted away, hurtling up the steps as he pulled out a burlap sack. Téa recognized it as one of Yugi's magic expansion bags, one that had been taken last night to help gather the remainder of Prince Jousef's guards. Help had finally come.
Téa then turned her attention to Yugi, her expression softening as she rose to her feet and gently guided the magic caster to the shelter of the awnings nearby. Ishizu and Rishid silently followed her, and the small group moved for an unoccupied corner. All three of them desperately needed comfort, but Yugi was the only one who did not have a physical shoulder to cry on and so she stayed by his side.
Rishid slowly lowered himself down, keeping Marik's body cradled close to him. Even in her grief, Ishizu managed a graceful descent beside her brothers. All the while, the Millennium Rod stuck out from Marik's chest, a silent but mocking presence; Téa almost wanted to pull it out, but that meant disturbing Marik's body. She wasn't up for that, not yet—she doubted many people would be up for the task.
Téa sat slowly down, Yugi practically crumpling beside her. Her heart wrenched when Yugi completely slumped against her with a shudder, and she heard the first sob leave him. She couldn't find any words to comfort him—there was nothing she could say that would change any of what had happened. She held him close and let him cry, her own vision swimming in tears at the sound of his whimpered sobs.
Oh Yugi…
Valon dusted his hands off, grinning. "Tha' was easy. None of you know 'ow to throw a proper punch, do ya?" he asked smugly. He stomped on one prone man hard enough to make certain he was not going to get up any time soon "Too bad for you."
He searched the crowd. In the lull created by Jou's earlier and desperate shout, he'd thought he had seen Raphael by the throne. He could see a flash of white hair close to the ground and knew that was where Ryou was, though what he was doing was anyone's best guss. But he could not tell if his best friend was still over there. "You'd think it'd be 'ard to lose a bloke that's over six feet tall," he muttered. "Raph, where'd you go?"
There was a step behind him, an armored boot planting itself. He felt rather than saw the sword coming at his unprotected back.
What saved Valon from instant death was years of honed instinct and the leather vambraces protecting his arms. He turned and threw his arms up. The sword bit deep into the leather vambraces on his forearms but did not pass through. when he looked up it was to find Gurimo in front of him.
"Here we are again, boy!" sneered the older man. "This time, no one is going to intervene on your behalf."
"Like I need help," Valon retorted, holding his free fist up. "Rematch—let's go!"
Gurimo twisted out of the position and pulled the blade free, causing the Aurosian to stagger backwards. The older captain struck, and Valon was only barely able to throw his arm up in time. The vambraces could not hold beneath the strike, and while the weapon was halted once again the steel bit into Valon's skin. Blood soon soaked the leather and ran down his right arm.
Valon shut out the sounds of those fighting around him. Adrenaline drowned out his pain, Valon's focus solely on his opponent.
You're up against a sword. Get in his circle, knock 'im outta stance. Armored, slowed but not hindered—smart tosser, 'e took off that cape from earlier. No good going for the diaphragm 'cause you'll break your knee on that breastplate. Only open area is face and eyes. Nothin' for it, you gotta aim there.
These thoughts only took seconds to register. By the time Gurimo had launched his next attack, Valon was already darting forward. The sword whistled harmlessly past him as the boy threw a hard punch toward Gurimo's monocle, but just before his fist connected the other man seemed to realize what Valon was up to and turned his head.
Valon's punch ended up catching Gurimo squarely in the nose and he heard the crunch of bone. He darted back with a curse as Gurimo swung the blade wildly, barely avoiding being eviscerated. Don' let him recover, take 'im now while 'e's disoriented. Break 'is neck if you can by using the armor against him.
Valon practically spun around the sword as it sliced the air, his fingers hooking around the edge of the golden breast plate, and while maintaining his grip he dropped and used his full weight to try and drag Gurimo down. As an added measure, he brought his knees to his chest and aimed his kick at Gurimo's kneecaps.
Unfortunately, the older man had recovered by the time Valon had caught the breastplate. He grabbed Valon's hand in his gauntlet and twisted hard, nearly breaking his wrist. The Aurosian yelled and let go, somersaulting just before Gurimo's sword would have caught him.
Get on your feet, don' let 'im push you—
But Valon was not fast enough. The next strike of the sword cut into him behind the knee as he tried to scramble to his feet. There was not enough force to take the leg off, but he was forced to drop to dodge the next strike. Gurimo suddenly stopped in mid-swing in his next attempt, sneering at Valon, and he realized too late what was about to happen. He was not able to throw his arms up before Gurimo's armored leg made contact against the Aurosian's head, and Valon tumbled into the wall.
Gurimo wiped the blood off his face. He smirked in triumph before he raised the sword over his head. "Valiant effort, boy," he panted. "But it's not enough to spare your life."
Valon blinked the spots out of his vision. "If I wanted to 'ear from an ass, I'd go out to the stable," he retorted as he tried to force his vision to focus.
Gurimo sneered. "Noted."
The sword swung downward towards Valon—
The broadsword caught Gurimo's as Raphael intercepted the strike. He forced Gurimo back with a lunge, causing the balding man to stagger backwards. Raphael shifted his stance, keeping Valon squarely behind him as he glowered at Gurimo. "You already took one of my friends—as long as I stand here, you aren't taking the other."
Valon felt a spike of alarm cut through the dazed fog his mind had been caught in, his vision still half spinning as he tried to recover. In all his time with the taller man, Valon had never seen Raphael go on the offensive. It was also not that long ago that Raphael had damn near died from blood loss. In comparison, Gurimo was armored and unafraid to fight dirty—Raphael was facing off against an opponent that Valon wasn't sure he could beat.
To Valon's immense surprise, Raphael moved first. Gurimo's bloody face twisted into a snarl as he parried, but his grip loosened under the force of the blow; he was nearly driven to his knees. He recovered quickly and tried the same strike that had crippled Valon, but Raphael sidestepped out of the way and delivered another blow that pushed Gurimo further from the Aurosian.
Soon Raphael had driven Gurimo into the middle of the courtroom, his sword almost blurring out of sight as he pushed Gurimo back. Valon would have never guessed that Raphael could move so fast, given how tall and burly he was. No wonder his older friend had gone without any armor—he was faster than anyone could have guessed without it.
It was not just the speed and strength behind Raphael's strikes that was giving his friend the advantage. Raphael's countenance bore indignant and righteous fury, grimly determined to prevent Gurimo from getting at Valon and to avenge Alister. If Valon had to wager a guess, Raphael's frustration, anger, and helplessness at the situation he'd been forced into was helping. Gurimo had vastly underestimated his opponent and he was clearly paying the price.
Valon took a moment to gather himself before he slowly rose to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He started forward, not intending on missing a bit of the fight. His wounded leg gave out on him, and he nearly fell face first onto the ground.
An arm caught him, and he looked up. "Thanks, Ryou."
"No problem," Ryou said tiredly. Valon caught the sight of blood on the man's shirt, but beneath it was unmarred skin. Ryou must have used some of his healing potion to close the wound.
They pushed their way past the other men silently, and though the combat was going on around them at least ten others had stopped to watch their respective captains battle. Just as they reached the front of the group, Gurimo dipped under Raphael's sword and planted himself in his opponent's personal space, trying to push Raphael off balance with one of his shoulders. Raphael instead pivoted out of the way, bringing his sword hilt down on the back of Gurimo's head and knocking him to the floor.
Gurimo fell with a startled curse, hitting his broken nose on the throne room floor. He howled but recovered surprisingly quickly, forcing himself to his feet as he reached for his sword—but then Raphael took three large strides and kicked the sword away. He pointed the blade at Gurimo's exposed throat.
"I win," Raphael said coldly, his expression forbidding.
Gurimo swallowed, his gaze darting between Raphael and his sword. "What now? Is this the part where you give me death? It would have meant that I taught you something, if you're going to end an unarmed and defenseless man's life. Alister would be proud," he sneered.
Raphael's features twisted, his grip on the sword hilt tightening to the point where his knuckles were white. After several tense moments, Raphael gave a low growl and turned away. "The one person who has the right to end your life isn't here to claim it. You want to die? Do it on your own time," he spat, turning away. "I'm not interested in being a coward's executioner."
As Raphael looked around, he noticed that the number of Jean Claude's men had dwindled. He spotted Valon standing near Ryou and made his way over, frowning when he registered the blood marring the skin over the smaller man's eye. Honestly, Valon, how many times do you have to get kicked in the head before you—
There was a loud cry of rage from behind him, and Valon suddenly started forward. "Raph!"
Raphael turned, registered Gurimo rushing him with a large hunting knife, and only just barely dodged the attack. The other man barreled into his side, however, and Raphael could not keep his grip on the sword. He staggered backward and fought to keep upright, wincing as he felt the knife slice his arm when Gurimo slashed at him again.
Raphael regained his balance and held back, hoping to get a clear shot at retrieving his weapon. A few steps further, he was uncomfortably aware that his back was to the throne room entrance—he could only hope that an enemy would not take a leaf from Gurimo's book and fire an arrow at his unprotected back.
"That's the problem with you Beryllians! You're all too honorable for your own good and assume we won't go for an unprotected back!" Gurimo said wickedly, kicking Raphael's sword away. Before Raphael could dodge him, Gurimo spun and drove the knife into Raphael's right leg.
Raphael shoved the other man back but nearly buckled, gritting his teeth as he tried to stay standing. Gurimo had taken the knife with him as he'd fallen back, and Raphael knew the wound was a severe one when he felt blood already pooling by his ankle. By the time he'd redirected his attention to the fight at hand, Gurimo had already picked up his own sword and was advancing on him.
"No weapon, no way of easily dodging," Gurimo said triumphantly. "I'd say I've won."
Valon suddenly moved in front of Raphael, and much to the older man's surprise the Aurosian was carrying Raphael's sword. Valon was no swordsman, preferring his fists over weapons; it was obvious in the awkward way he held the sword. Still, the boy was holding his ground.
Gurimo did not seem bothered by this change of events. In fact, he looked amused. "I can see that you have no ability with a sword, boy. As for you, captain, you can't even stand straight," he sneered. "This should be pathetically easy."
With those parting words their enemy lunged forward, lifting his weapon as he rushed them—
Over the sudden roar of cheers, shouts, and alarmed cries, a sharp and piercing whistle rent the air.
I whistle to warn. I do it only once, because by then the arrow is in motion. When you hear the sound, stop. Trust that I have your back.
Alister had told them that information so long ago that it was almost a faded memory. If asked, neither of them could remember how the subject had even come up or what they'd been doing at the time.
But they remembered what was important.
Neither of them made a move to defend themselves or to run. They both stilled, standing in place even as Gurimo bore down on them. Gurimo's face twisted into a triumphant smirk as he got closer, realizing that they were now completely at his mercy—
The first arrow streaked past the remaining dueling pairs, crossing the distance with an angry buzz. The projectile came in between the upper spikes of Valon's fluffy hair, slamming hard into Gurimo's throat and causing him to stagger backwards. Gurimo gagged as the blood started soaking his skin and running down his armor, stumbling as he instinctively tried to pull the arrow free. His gaze fixed at a point behind Raphael, eyes widening in shock.
"I said I would come for you. Wonder of wonders, here I am."
There was barely any time to register the familiar voice before the second arrow came, following the path of the first and this time barely grazing Raphael's right earlobe before it continued past him. Gurimo went down without another sound, an arrow in his throat and one of his eyes. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Raphael and Valon both turned. Alister was planted squarely in the entrance to the throne room, holding his bow and another arrow at the ready. His gray eyes briefly met Raphael's and Valon's and he offered them something close to a small smirk.
"Hi," he announced pleasantly, and then he released the arrow.
Raphael did not see where the arrow went. From behind Alister, there were more men pouring into the dismantled throne room. He was instantly on guard, fearing that these were reinforcements for Jean Claude. None of them targeted Alister, however, and he realized what he was looking at. The banished men of the castle had returned.
Only then did he relax. His gaze went to Valon, eyes landing on the cut. He tapped his own eyebrow in emphasis. "You okay?"
Valon snorted. "Oh c'mon, fella, you kiddin'? I've been hit harder by old women," he said with a tired grin. He held out Raphael's sword. "You sure this thing isn' a club? Feels like one, anyways."
Raphael grunted, taking back his weapon. He shifted his weight off his affected leg. "Looks like my secret is out. You've caught me—I'm part troll."
Valon snorted in laughter. "Alister rubbed off on you some, didn' 'e?" he asked. He sobered seconds later when he noticed Raphael fighting to straighten his stance. He leaned over to inspect the injury caused by Gurimo's knife. "'ow bad is it?" he asked.
"Nothing I can't recover from," replied the blond, grimacing as a dull throb began climbing up his leg. He caught sight of one of Jean Claude's men running toward him, weapon held at the ready, and gave a gusty sigh. Raphael hobbled out of the way and then caught the man in a headlock. He kept steady pressure on the man's throat as he looked over at Valon. "I have just about had it with all of this."
"Preach it to the choir," Valon said, casually kicking over an enemy trying to rise to his feet. "The fights in the rings were worse than this. I still remember the idiot who decided throwing in a werebear in with the group brawl was a right brilliant thing t' do."
"A werebear? Is that even real?" Raphael could not keep skeptical amusement out of his voice. He felt the man in his arms slump, and he dropped the unconscious body to the ground.
"They are," Alister said suddenly, swinging his bow to knock over the man sneaking up on Valon. "Usually found only in Viernet. They make werewolves look like newborn puppies."
"Oh, there you are! Cuttin' it close, aren' you?" Valon called over to him, gleefully kicking another man over.
"I got held up," Alister retorted. He casually stabbed an incoming opponent with one of his arrows before sweeping the man's legs out from under him with a low kick. "Kaiba has no sense of urgency."
Raphael stared at Alister with an unreadable expression on his face. "You're alive," he managed at last. "Valon said he'd found you. I just didn't realize he meant you weren't dead."
"To be fair, I was dead yesterday morning," the red-haired man replied with a shrug, sweeping his bow in an arc around his head to knock down two of his opponents. "I'll explain everything later, I promise. How are you holding up?" he continued, directing the question at Raphael.
Raphael shook his head, wincing as he started to hobble forward. "My leg's been stabbed. Gurimo managed to get one last hit on me," he responded. "I'll be all right. Right now, we need to get to the north tower, that's where—"
"You can't help anyone with that leg," Alister said flatly. He stepped forward and ducked under one of Raphael's arms to keep the man standing. "We're taking you out to the courtyard and getting it taken care of first, then we'll go get Elya."
Raphael tried to protest, only for it to fall silent under the severe look he was being given from both his friends. He allowed Alister to help him start limping for the exit and away from the chaos. Valon delivered one final punch to one of Jean Claude's men before he hurried after his friends, keeping their slow retreat covered; he was able to keep their opponents back as Alister quickly bandaged Raphael's leg. At some point Ryou joined them, a subdued and tired presence at their sides.
From ahead of them they saw a flash of yellow. Vivian darted into the throne room, her daggers glittering in the light as she wove her way through the crowd; she couldn't have applied very much pressure with her strikes, yet any she hit fell in seconds with gurgled, anguished yells. Those of Jou's men who knew Vivian grabbed their comrades who did not and instantly moved out of the way.
"Vivian!" Raphael called to her, and she glanced at him over her shoulder. He gestured to the men who had stepped back and away. "They're on Prince Jousef's side! Princess Mai's safe, last I saw her!"
She nodded, giving him a quick wink before she returned to the fight at hand.
They continued their trek to the courtyard, keeping a healthy distance from the battles raging around them. At some point Ryou slipped past them, going ahead of them to the courtyard; his aura had increasingly radiated grief as they'd made their way out, and by the time he left them there were the starts of tears. Valon and Alister hadn't seen it, but Raphael had and he didn't like the implication of what it meant.
It was as they reached the main entrance when Valon drew Raphael out of his thoughts. "It's been a while since I've been in a proper brawl," the Aurosian said breathlessly, looking over his shoulder. "Not gonna lie, kinda missed it! Reminds of me of the good ol' days in our coliseum! You fellas gonna be all right?" he asked them.
"We are. Go, you hobgoblin," Alister said, rolling his eyes. There was a fondly exasperated note to his voice as he spoke. "Make sure you give them a couple good wallops from me."
Valon's grin was absolutely wicked. "Gladly," he said. He turned away from them, laughing as he bounded back into the room.
Raphael sighed as he watched Valon go. "I don't know where he's getting that energy from," he muttered, suddenly too tired. "I feel tired just watching him. It must mean I'm getting too old for this."
"You're barely twenty-three."
"Did I stutter?""
Alister smirked. "Duly noted," he replied. "But in all seriousness, old man, you'd better be able to get to the healer. I'm not carrying you if you pass out."
As they looked out across the courtyard, Raphael's gaze found Téa and Yugi underneath an awning by one of the walls; she was sitting beside him, an arm about his shoulders in a comforting gesture. Ryou was beside them, taking back the Millennium Ring and looping it over his head. Bakura did not reform, however, and Ryou didn't seem like he was going to call the spirit out. All of them looked miserable and grief-stricken.
Raphael remembered Ryou's agonized expression from earlier, the corners of his mouth turning down and his heart going heavy. If he was right…
He found Rishid and Ishizu next, their backs to the castle. He caught a glimpse of pale blond hair over the Enterran man's arm, and his jaw clenched. He only needed to take one look at the body language of Marik's siblings and his suspicions were confirmed. Damn.
Alister had seen them too, and when he spoke his voice was subdued. "Ishtar?"
"Probably. Come on," he replied quietly. He started to limp forward to where the Ishtars were huddled. Of all those present, Raphael and Alister both knew what it meant to lose a younger sibling.
Téa saw them coming, her eyes moving to Raphael's injured leg. She murmured something to Yugi before rising to her feet, hurrying for the healer. Raphael and Alister passed Yugi silently, coming to where Rishid and Ishizu were sitting. Now that they were closer, they could see the Rod firmly embedded in Marik's chest.
Ishizu looked up as they approached, her expression on the border of too calm. "He's gone," she said, as if she didn't fully believe her own words. "Marik is gone."
Raphael's features softened. "I know how much you and your brother must be hurting," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry you have to experience this."
"…You should remove that weapon."
All eyes went to Alister. His expression was unreadable, his eyes locked on the Rod. "It shouldn't stay in—where it is," he said, missing a momentary beat as he spoke. "I know it's hard, but…he doesn't deserve…"
There was a moment of heavy silence. It was Rishid who moved first, never speaking as he gently moved his brother's body to the ground. He wavered, then reached out to grasp the Millennium Rod. He gripped it firmly, then pulled—
—only to yelp as he released it, a shining burn visible on his palm. Marik's body hadn't even moved as the Rod was being tugged. It was an unnatural stillness, and one that had nothing to do with his death.
"It burned me," Rishid said, his voice full of confusion and tension as he looked around at them. "Is it supposed to do that?"
Ryou's hand reflexively went to the Ring, faltering when nothing happened and shaking his head at the questioning looks. "He's not answering. Yugi?"
Yugi sat up straighter, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. They missed the moment Yami switched with the magic caster, but there was no mistaking that Yami was in control as he came to Marik's side. He studied Marik's body for several long moments of silence before sucking in a sharp breath.
"It burned you because Shadow magic is being channeled through it," he said, his voice tight with tension. "Someone is currently using the Millennium Rod."
"…what?"
Elya heard the hurried footsteps coming up the stairs and towards her. For all she knew, it could be friends on their way to help, maybe even Raphael—but she couldn't take that chance. She gave one last shove on the chest of drawers, guiding it into place just front of the bedroom door. It was made of thick and sturdy oak, making it heavy and awkward to move, but she knew that if she had trouble with it so would Jean Claude. She took a steadying breath, her thumb twisting her wedding ring back and forth as she put herself in front of the barricade.
The door burst open, Jean Claude striding quickly into the room. His clothing was torn and ripped, and his normally neat hair was askew. In one of his gloved hands he carried what appeared to be soaked handkerchief, a strange smell wafting in the room in his wake. She stiffened when Jean Claude's gaze landed on her, his eyes taking in the barricade before he looked to Elya.
"Elya, my dear," he said, only the barest hint of civility in his voice. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Her chin lifted and her fists clenched at her sides. "I don't think I can make it any clearer than I have," she said coldly. "You aren't taking her."
Jean Claude's eyes narrowed. "You think you can stop me?"
"I can try." Elya lifted her head higher. "If you want the princess, you're going through me."
The man let out a scornful laugh and stepped forward. "Easily done," he said derisively, reaching out to grab her arm.
As Jean Claude's hand closed around her arm, Elya's free hand rose and in seconds her open palm slapped against Jean Claude's cheek. Her wedding ring, twisted around to palm side, caught the flesh of his cheek.
Jean Claude recoiled as if bitten by a feral cat and let go of her arm, and Elya took the chance to push him back. The man stumbled, his arms windmilling wildly in a bid to keep his balance. She nearly cheered when she saw the slash traveling from the middle of his cheek to his ear, the mark already starting to bleed from where her ring had caught him.
Jean Claude's hand rose to the cut in his cheek, and as his fingertips came away bloody his eyes widened. Rage twisted his features as he bore down on her. "You are not the first woman to hit me, but you will be the last!" he roared, his hands going for Elya's neck.
The window behind Elya imploded, glass flying into the room.
Eatos flew inside with a furious shriek, her talons slicing at Jean Claude's arms. The man howled, stumbling even further back from Elya. Eatos ducked beneath his flailing arms and struck wherever her talons and beak could reach, each strike leaving a bloody slash in her wake.
One of Jean Claude's hands reached out wildly and finally managed to snag Eatos' leg. Ignoring the way she pecked at his gloved hand with her beak, he strode to the window with a furious snarl and tossed the eagle outside, closing the shutters to bar the eagle entrance.
Elya did not even get the chance to move before he'd drawn his sword, leveling it at her. He seemed about to speak when he paused, his expression twisting with surprise. Elya didn't understand until she followed his gaze to her stomach. She blanched, one of her arms rising protectively over the barely visible bump.
He knows, she realized with horror.
"Now isn't this a delightful little surprise?" he asked, a thoroughly ugly bark of laughter escaping him as he sheathed his sword. "How did you manage to hide that from me?"
Before Elya could react, he snatched her arm, pulling it up as he grabbed her other free hand. "You're lucky that my standards have not sunk low enough to murder a pregnant woman," he hissed. "But I don't have time for you to be so noble."
As he spoke, he pinned her arms with one of his own as he pulled her back to his chest. He used his free hand to force the handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She let out a muffled but frightened scream as she fought to get away. The scent rising from the cloth was overwhelming, her vision already swimming and the room spinning wildly as she weakened.
"Jean Claude!"
The shout had come from the doorway, and Elya caught sight of blonde hair and a woman in a tattered white gown. The world spun one last time, and then all was dark and she felt herself falling away.