Movement I

The Unnamed

Despite the warmth of the days in Bern, the night was cold, with bitter winds whipping inside the mountain valley. Even with the broad trunks of evergreen trees blocking winds and the thick material of his cloak and cape wrapped tightly around him, Eliwood of Pherae shivered slightly in the saddle of his horse and rubbed his tired eyes. His fellows were little better off, most of drifting in and out of sleep in the saddles of their mounts. Serra was snoring softly, pressed against the chest of the Lord Tactician with her fur-lined cloak wrapped tightly to her small body while Lady Priscilla kept rapidly blinking her green eyes to keep them open. It was very late at night, possibly early morning, and he'd forgotten how many days it had been since they had last slept in an actual bed, or even a tent. Lady Lyndis, who had stubbornly decided to walk along side her horse (currently occupied by the sleeping bodies of Ninian and Nils), turned to Eliwood.

"We need to find some shelter soon; otherwise we'll never be able to survive a fight." The Lord Tactician, Mark, gave a bitter sigh and turned towards Lyn. "Your welcome to find a nice spot on the group, milady," he said with a sarcastic nod, "But I don't think there's any inn near by. We haven't seen a building since we left that village a few days ago." Lyn grit her teeth and looked around the trees, peering around the massive trunks. "I just can't believe they don't have one single town near here."

"In any case," came Kent's voice as he joined Eliwood's view. The Commander of the Caelin Knights was very haggard looking, dark bags under his eyes and a sickly, pallid look about his skin, "If we do find a village or town, it probably wouldn't be safe to stay there too long." Mark nodded agreeably, though Eliwood really doubted the young man had even understood Kent's words completely.

Lyn didn't respond for a moment but she hurried a little ahead of them, looking through the trees desperately for any sort of building. "We have to rest soon. I don't care if it means we're all getting our throats slit in the middle of the night, nobody's focused at all and I honestly think Sain was trying to use 'potatoes' as a verb earlier."

Mark glared harshly at his Lady Commander and adjusted his footing on his mare's saddle. With a dejected sigh, he spoke in a cold voice as though doing something he'd rather not do. "Fine, I'll ride ahead for a while to see if there's a building or something we can rest in. If I don't find anything within a mile, we're going without sleep again."

"And if you do that then I'll quit!" yelled Farina's voice from somewhere in the back, sounding extremely angry, "No amount of money is worth dragging Murphy through these trees!" Her Pegasus had fallen asleep a while ago and she had been forced to drag the poor creature halfway through the valley as it stubbornly slept. Her sisters' mounts were equally tired, but at least they had stayed awake for the journey, though Hyperion seemed to be the only one of the group's flying cavalry with energy to continue onward with his master on his back. Mark mumbled darkly beneath his breath and hurried off, Serra rocking back and forth in his arms swiftly like a rag doll.

Eliwood yawned widely and leaned on his horse's head, lazily scratching the stallion behind the ears. "I wonder how long we've been traveling to this accursed Shrine of Seals," he muttered into his horse's white-splashed mane. Kent looked thoughtful for a moment. "Three days," he replied, "Three days without sleep and two days without food since the horses . . ." Kent shook his head as though refusing to remember how the beasts had decimated their entire food stocks in only a few hours.

"I hope Mark finds a farm or something," said a willowy voice, one belonging to Priscilla of Caerlon. The Valkyrie was tugging her thick cloak tighter to her pale shoulders so that the fur collar was pressed against her neck and spoke in the same soft, delicately accented voice. "We're going to die of starvation and exhaustion before we reach the Shrine, and most likely the Black Fang will have had soldiers stationed there."

"We can't be sure of that."

The Eturian lady turned her tired eyes to Guy, who looked like some sort of half-alive corpse instead of his usual energetic self, and heaved a heavy sigh. "It's logical, however unpleasant. The Black Fang almost has the King tied around their fingers, and they would surely know the location of the Shrine of Seals. With the location and the knowledge that we are looking for it, they would send troops out there to guard it for protection against us." Guy glared sharply at her and, out of habit, gripped his katana's hilt tightly in his right hand.

There was an unpleasant sort of silence following Priscilla's words, bringing Eliwood's attention back towards the wood surrounding them. It was thinning slightly; on the horizon was visible flatland with a few shrubs growing. The mountains still loomed overhead like massive monoliths, as though keeping them enclosed within their omnipresent watch. The whole forest was giving him a sort of uneasy tension, like he half expected something to jump out of the bushes with a sword or axe.

The silence of the surrounding wood was cut short with a loud, piercing scream from a woman. Eliwood jerked up suddenly, feeling wide awake as he grabbed his rapier and looked around. Lyn narrowed her eyes. "It came from the east!" she barked, turning towards the red haired Pherean, "Should we go after?"

The woman screamed again, sounding louder then it had the first time. As a way of a response, Eliwood jerked the reigns of his horse and the stallion galloped to his right. It took maybe half a minute for him, Lyn and Guy to find the source of the woman's scream – she had yelled several times in quick succession after her second scream, creating a clear path to follow.

In a small clearing ten feet from where the army had been walking stood a man gripping the wrist of a young girl very tightly. The man was wearing odd clothing, very odd and mismatched. There was a dark green tunic belted over a high collared blue shirt, leather riding breeches and glossy gold-brown boots made of some odd material. Over everything he wore a woolen coat that looked as if it had mud caked all over it, with a high collar and sharp tails. He was yelling viciously at the girl in some odd language, his eyes narrowed and voice very harsh and the girl was screaming in fear, tears streaming down her frightened face.

"Let her go!" barked Lyn, drawing out the Mani Katti in a snap and assuming her common fighting poise. The man turned his head sharply, so that Eliwood could see his face clearer.

The man was about forty, maybe older, with lines creasing his cheeks and bags heavy under his deep blue eyes. His hair was dark brown, shaggy and unwashed, and his skin was a frightfully white shade. His eyes widened viciously, filling with fear as he fumbled in his pocket, still keeping a tight grasp on the girl's wrist. Lyn narrowed her eyes further.

"Let her go," she repeated, taking a step closer to the man and raising her Mani Katti dangerously slow, "Let her go, now."

"I don't think he can understand you," muttered Eliwood, dismounting his horse and drawing out his rapier. The man was looking fearful, but he was tightening his grip on the girl's wrist as he frantically searched his pockets with one shaking. The girl was screaming in a high pitched voice, trying to break away from the man as hard as she could and failing to do so.

Lyn pointed her sword directly at the man's throat, so that he was forced to lift up his head and stare at the Sacaen woman's narrow, angry face and blazing eyes. "Let go of the girl," she said slowly, speaking as if the man was either deaf or extremely stupid, "Or else I will kill you."

The man, instead of acting even more fearful, smirked broadly as he drew something out of his pocket. It was small, about the size of both the man's fists combined, and made of an odd black metal that caught the moonlight wickedly and, though Eliwood had absolutely no clue as to what it was, the man was holding it as if it was a weapon. Lyn eyed it carefully to and instead brought her leg up quickly so that she kicked the man in the torso. He fell backwards, winded and tightened his grip on the metal weapon in his hand.

There was a bang like breaking bone and Guy gaped at the large, smoking hole that appeared in the tree to the man's left. The weapon in his hand had fired something small that left a fairly decent sized hole in the tree. The girl, now free of the man's grip, stood for a moment as if paralyzed then backed viciously away from the man's body, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Lyn pressed her sword's blade tightly to the man's throat.

"What right do you have to terrify her like that?" snapped Lyndis. The man shut his eyes in fear and brought his odd metal weapon up to his temple and tightened his grip again.

The resulting event caused hot bile to rise in Eliwood's throat as he watched the man's head get blown clean off his shoulders. Lyn jumped backwards in disgust as blood splattered her boots and the hem of her dress and Guy winced violently. "Disgusting," muttered the Sacaen swordsman, averting his gaze from the mass of blood and brain matter that litter the snowy ground. The girl, who now stood covered in blood up to her torso, promptly turned around and threw up in the bushes.

Eliwood turned to look at the girl, forcing himself to ignore the man's remains as he examined her. She was about average height, maybe half a head shorter then Lyndis, and dressed like a boy in mismatched clothing beneath a man's black overcoat. Her tousled red hair hung to her shoulders in clumps, unwashed and unkempt, and her pale skin and thin form suggested hadn't eaten well for quiet some time.

"Are you alright?" he asked, moving closer to the girl. She was crying lightly as she spat the last of the vomit out of her mouth and turned to look at him with haunted looking garnet eyes. Her face was very thin and sunken, as if she'd been very ill recently, and she stared at him as if she'd never seen a man before. Her bottom lip trembled as she met his eyes, her hands shaking as she clutched her coat tightly to her thin shoulders.

So suddenly that it caught him off guard, the girl grabbed his arm and stared up into his eyes. She was begging in her odd language, so low pitched and hysterical that Eliwood strained to try and guess what some of her words were.

"Pleh em, esaelp pleh em ris! Esaelp!" she cried, shaking his arm violently, "Ll'yeht llik em tuohtiw rouy pleh! ESAELP!" She shook his arm even harder now, crying and speaking faster even. Many times she stared at the man's corpse, pointing and babbling incoherent words. "S'eh a reredrum, a namdam! Sih sdneirf, re'they retfa em! Esaelp, esaelp pleh em! Esaelph netsil retsim! Esaelp!"

"Calm down!" he said in a hurry, grasping her shoulders, "Can you understand me at all?" The girl stared up at him in disbelief and shook him slightly, whispering hysterically.

"Uoy . . . uoy t'nac dnatsrednu em . . . nac, nac uoy?" she asked, digging her discolored nails into his sleeve very tightly. It sounded like a question, but he couldn't give her a better answer then shaking his head.

"It's a lost cause Lord Eliwood," said Lyn, moving up and looking at the girl from an angle, "But I don't think it would be wise to leave her alone. It doesn't look like she'd survive long in this weather." The Sacaen eyed the girl's thin clothing with some distaste. The girl let go of Eliwood's arms and stared at Lyn and Guy, her gaze lingering especially on their dark green hair and katanas, her eyes widening feverishly as she did so. ". . .Ssim Mary! Uoy . . . er'uoy ekil reh!" she screamed, sounding absolutely terrified. She took two steps backwards and promptly fainted to the ground.

"What was that all about?" snapped Lyn as Guy knelt down to the girl. She was shivering violently, drenched in cold sweat. "I don't know, but she needs a healer, I reckon." Guy lifted her up, staggering for a moment as he lifted her onto Eliwood's horse. The Pherean eyed her as he mounted his stallion after her, noticing how – in her unconscious state – she kept grabbing her arm suddenly as if it were broken.

He tried to keep his mind focused on the girl leaning against his chest and not on the image of the man's head exploding, as what was repeating violently in his mind's eyes.


"Saint Elimine blesses civilization," breathed Serra warmly, draining the last of her tea and looking fondly around her room in the inn Lord Eliwood's army was currently staying. Mark had managed to find a town at the edge of the mountains, distant enough from any 'funny lookin' places er folk', as the innkeeper had so delicately told them. Most of the rag-tag soldiers in the group were upstairs, happily asleep in soft beds and Serra would have given dearly to be part of them had she not found herself interested in the odd redhead Lady Lyndis, Lord Eliwood and Guy had found.

The young woman was lying in one of the two beds in the room, shivering violently on odd moments and rather homely in her appearance. Priscilla was seated next to the girl, occasionally pressing a cold rag to her feverish brow and Lyndis was leaning against the wall, watching the Eturian healer tend to the unknown woman.

"I'd like to know this enigma's name," muttered Lyn angrily, starring at the closed eyes and sunken face of the woman, "And just where she's from. I've never heard anybody speak like her before, or dress like her."

"Can you describe the language, milady?" asked Priscilla softly, rubbing her tired green eyes with one hand as she slipped the covers down slightly so she could examine the girl's neck for any wounds. Lyn's brow creased in concentration as she drummed her tan fingers against her cloak sleeve.

"It was like . . . like nothing I've ever heard before. That's all I can say about it, really." Priscilla began to unbutton the girl's shirt, intent on checking the girl's shoulders and neck for any wounds. Underneath her two black blouses was a white shirt that clung tightly to her skin and revealed most of her breastbone. Priscilla winced slightly at the sight of the girl's arms as she traced her fingers across the skin.

There were small cuts across her shoulders and arms, many of them encircled with angry red lines of infection. Some were recently scabbed over, some looked old and there were a few white scars from ancient wounds, but all of them looked as if they had been made from a very thin knife, even thinner then the blade of a butter knife. Priscilla pressed a finger gently to the worst of them; a long slit made just beneath her neck that was surrounded by a purple bruise and discolored, burgundy skin. The girl gasped violently in pain and jerked away, cold sweat dripping from her brow and her breathe coming out in sharp gasps.

Priscilla took the healing staff that was propped on the wall next to her and held the sapphire and gold orb a few inches above the girl's chest. "Restore and Recover," she commanded in a firm voice and a soft bluish light engulfed the wounds. Quickly, they healed without even leaving a scar to show they had been there. The girl relaxed immediately, some color popping back into her lifeless cheekbones.

The Eturian Valkyrie sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, breathing quickly. "Strong poison," she explained to an edgy looking Lyndis, "I do not think I've ever dealt with something that strong before. Whoever gave her those cuts . . . they really wanted to kill her."

The Caelin Princess' only words were; "Check her pockets."

The quick search drew out a single object; a necklace. More exactly, it was a long silver chain with a circular locket was clasped tightly to the metal links. Lyn fingered the locket carefully and pried it open easily and without a sound. Inside, however, was nothing like she'd ever seen in a locket before. It had the vague look of a sundial, but there were two intricate pieces of metal that moved in a slow, ticking fashion of their own accord. Where numerals would have been on the sundial were arcane looking symbols, likes magical runes. Opposite of the odd sundial was a small inscription in tasteless print. 'Property of Miss Mary Fenrir.'

"Well, now we know her name," said Lyn with a small sigh, closing the locket and dropping it on Mary's chest, "Just let her sleep, I guess. If she's ill, sleep might be the best thing."

Priscilla bowed her head respectfully. "As you wish, milady Lyndis." Serra yawned widely and moved towards the only other bed in the room, taking off her silk cloak and sitting atop the bed. "Well, I don't know about you two, but I need my beauty rest," said the Cleric cheekily, "I'll watch her fine, don't worry."

"There's a spare bed in my room Priscilla," said Lyn, standing and leaning a gauntleted hand casually on her sword's hilt out of habit, "Florina wanted to stay with her sister's tonight." Priscilla smiled and stood, smoothing her skirt and taking her intricate staff. "I'd like that, milady."

Serra watched Lyn and Priscilla leave and shut the door before curling under the heavy wool and fur blankets of the bed. They were exceptionally warm and comfortable, after spending the last three days on Mark's horse and she glanced over at the still form of the enigmatic Mary Fenrir. The woman was breathing more regularly, a good thing, but she was still about as moving as a cadaver.

"Rather homely looking, aren't you?" muttered Serra dryly, "Nothing like a lady like myself." She smiled as she curled next to her pillow, asleep within seconds.

Two rooms away from Serra's, Eliwood scowled darkly as he tried to sleep. He found himself unable to do so with all the thoughts buzzing around in his head. Not only was he still unable to block the image of that man's head blown clean to pieces from his odd weapon, but he couldn't stop hearing the pleading, begging words of that young woman when he was unable to do much more then stare at her blankly.

Hector was in the bed next to him, out cold the second after his head had hit the pillow and snoring like a wounded animal. Normally, he could deal with the snoring, but tonight it kept him awake. Eliwood rubbed his shadowed eyes and looked out the window to the white landscape beyond. The mountains of Bern loomed ominously overhead, glaring down on the world beneath and the small village at the mountain's base was as deserted as a graveyard in daytime.

Resigning himself to the fact he wasn't going to sleep at all without doing something first, Eliwood stood and grabbed his rapier's scabbard from the room's small table. Maybe he could practice outside, wear himself out and then go to bed. Yeah, that'd work, and it wouldn't take too long in his condition.

The cold winter air was sharp as he stepped out into the inn's gardens, if you could call the dead flowerbeds and leafless trees 'gardens'. It was deserted, though, not that he had minded company. He unsheathed the thin sword, examining his pale, tired reflection in the silver blade for a second before gripping it tightly and thrusting, cutting the air sharply.

It felt good to exercise his tired arms and legs, after spending so many days on his stallion's saddle. It was difficult to move in the snow, though, so his footwork was sluggish and painfully slow. On the battlefield, it'd cost him – if not his life – a good amount of blood. Eliwood stepped backwards and thrust again, wincing at the slight pain that entered his stiff arm.

The Pherean stood straight for a minute, cracking his stiff neck and turning towards the inn. He'd felt eyes on the back of his neck for a few minutes and now turned to see who his spectator was.

It was the red haired girl, clutching her overcoat tightly to her body with a very tight grip. She was standing at the door with her eyes wide in amazement, her face blank and mouth agape slightly. She didn't look too well, there was a slight flush to her pale cheeks that suggested a fever and there was a sleepy look to her face.

"Hello," he said kindly, smiling and waving slightly though he knew she wouldn't understand. She widened her eyes fearfully and tugged at her overcoat's collar so it pressed firmly against her neck. "Reredrum," she said coldly, backing away, "Re'uoy a reredrum."

Without another word, she turned and fled back into the inn, shutting the door harshly behind her. Eliwood blinked for a second and went back to his practice, trying to focus his mind on other things.

I do not own Fire Emblem, Nintendo does. I own all original characters.