A/N: Here I am again, flitting to another idea. This takes place some time after the events of Ico, Ico himself is now an old man living on the edge of the forbidden realm with a while tribe of horned men (the horns do not manifest in women), this fic centers around his grandson Nico and the one and only Wander, who, yes, is still alive, he's THAT hardcore. Well, there's a reason for that, an' it's a big spoiler so I'll shut my yap and start giving you something productive.

Author's request: Please leave a review, I really do care about this fic and want to know your honest opinions, I don't just want to boost my review score, so do me a favor will you? Also I knocked this out in an afternoon, so if there's any big mistakes tell me and I can go back over the chapter with a fine toothed comb.

Disclaimer: Don't own Shadow or Ico.

NICO: The Wanderer Returns

On Wings of Fury, A Wanderer Returns

The desert was still, there was nothing but sand in every direction around the city, this was the Last Town, a place between civilization and the Forbidden Realm, its cursed inhabitants knew well the brutality of both places and were more than content to rest between the two, safe from neither, but far enough from both to keep themselves alive. Nico had been born and raised in this town, when the first settlers had come here, crossing from the Forbidden Realm the town was already here, ruined, but here nonetheless, it was seen by their people as a blessing, an omen that they should stay here and be content. The few who strayed out of the settlement, should they make it through the encircling desert were met with fear and loathing in the lands beyond, they scarcely returned, though Nico's grandfather had boasted that he had been born in the lands beyond and survived their trials to return to his ancestral home. This boast was generally accepted, as Ico had had his horns shattered when he first found the settlement, though he had never said how it happened it was speculated by many, Nico included, that the outlanders had done it to him, as they did so hate their kind.

It was still cool when Nico awoke, the sun had not fully risen as he stepped out into the street, wrapped in little more than a tunic and cloak. It was cold now, but it was going to get a lot warmer. Ascending the wall which faced the Forbidden Realm, Nico looked out over the sand toward that place where no one dared to tread. The legend among his people was that an ancestor of their race had crossed into the wastes which lay beyond to fight the devil himself, but that he had never returned, every year on the same day the Shamans sang The Ballad of The Wanderer, a ritual which invoked his immortal soul, who prophecy held would lead them out of the desert and into a land of plenty. Not that Nico's people lived in poverty, anyone can tell you that living in a desert is hard, but it just so happened that far below the city rested a subterranean lake, which had allowed them not only to drink, but to grow food of their own, of course their was the occasional hunt, but more than anything they relied on the roots and fungi that were at home down there in the dark.

"Nico!" His grandfather called, "Get down from there!" Nico turned to see his grandpa, a tall man with greying hair and a crown of no less than six horns, a rarity among their kind, the Shaman had speculated that Nico was of the pure line of the Wanderer, undiluted by outlander blood and that when he returned the spirits imbued him with a fraction of their sire's spirit. Less reliable sources speculated that Ico had carved the horns himself and that he was just a crazy old man who had never set foot in the outland during his life. Nico couldn't believe this, he would always ask his grandpa about what he had seen out there, to which the old man would usually reply, "Cruelty, hate, all the things that make men fallible. Beauty, love, compassion, everything that make them great."

"Alright." Nico groaned, dropping his eyes to the ground and kicking a loose stone from the wall before descending the stairs. He reached his grandfather and looked up at him with a mixture of boredom and anticipation, today was his day after all, not to mention the bundle underneath his grandfather's arm. "What's that?" he asked, knowing full well he'd know soon enough.

"Why can't you ever wait for the Wanderer's Song?" the old man questioned, "Did I raise such an impatient little rascal?"

"Well then it's not MY fault grandpa. Don't make your grandson suffer for your mistakes."

The old man ruffled the young boys hair and ran his hand down one of the boys two horns, "These are getting longer everyday, you really are turning into a man, maybe you can replace this old codger on the next hunt?" Nico's face visibly brightened at the idea, the idea of chasing big game, the biggest of game across the open dunes. "Maybe you should get a little more patience first though, don't want you rushing under some Quadro's feet."

Nico laughed nervously at the thought of being smashed into the sand, gallows humour was certainly alive and well with his grandpa Ico, "Now go get a good spot near the Shaman's place while I get the last touches made to this." He nodded his head, indicating the lengthy parcel under his arm. "Save me a seat would you?"

"Sure thing." Nico replied as he sped off, as he ran through the narrow streets, doors opened, people began to show themselves to the world, horned boys still clinging to their mother's skirts, old men like his grandfather, long in horn as they were in the tooth, some like himself on the cusp of manhood, their horns beginning to really show themselves and the masked Shamans flocking to the stage where they would conduct the ritual. As Nico entered the central square he noticed that the raised platform had already been set up and the carved wooden idols were being set in place. The idols which would be put to flame as a beacon to the Wanderer shortly after the ceremony.

The masked figures had already begun to gather, they'd conduct the morning blessing, then there would follow a day of reveling and a solemn evening service, stalls were already being erected for the day, selling jewelery, food, scrolls filled with tales of heroics which took place on the far side of the world, these in particular interested Nico. The whole square had a sense of anticipation about it.

Nico took a pair of reed mats from the pile by the square's entrance and laid them down as near to the stage as he could, some had already got there before him. Here he waited, it wasn't long before his grandpa joined him, his joints clicking in their sockets as he sat down beside Nico. "Not a bad spot." He said, " We ought to get a decent view from here, as his grandfather shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable, Nico noticed something under his cloak.

"What's that you've got?" He asked, wondering if it was something to do with the parcel from before, but that was sat next to his grandfather on the opposite side to him.

"Hm, this? Well I was going to surprise you, but I suppose there's no harm." Old Ico then reached inside his cloak and pulled out a wooden sword, Nico's eyes widened as he realized what part he was to play in this year's festivities. He was to run the Gauntlet, whoever was chosen, by ballot or suggestion, ran a Gauntlet of 16 other young men, to present a Shaman with a carved wooden sword, representing the one which was used by the Wanderer during his pilgrimage, if the boy succeeded it was seen as an omen of prosperity and good tidings, that the spirit of The Ancestor (which is how they sometimes referred to the Wanderer) would smile down on them in that year.

Overcome with excitement he grabbed his grandfather in an embrace that nearly knocked the old man flat, "Oh thank you grandpa! I promise I'll make it!"

"Shh, keep it down." His grandfather ordered, "No one's meant to know yet."

Nico composed himself, drew back and nodded, his face had brightened with a mixture of love and excitement, "Hey, it is your birthday after all." His grandfather said as he ruffled his dark hair once more. Nico couldn't help but grin right through the opening ceremony, conducted in an ancient language he only knew bits and pieces of, when the revelling began he immediately took the wooden sword and moved to the back of the square. There he waited in giddy anticipation for the words he so craved, silence fell, this was his moment.

"We call the Wanderer!" One of the Shamans bellowed across the audience, "Send him forward!" A corridor formed down the middle of the square, Nico stepped into it, as did 16 other figures in his path, masked and costumed to resemble the 16 idols, He had to hack his way through them, to the altar of worship, he was after all, The Wanderer. He sped forward and met the first enemy, 'cutting' him down swiftly and stepping over his body to meet the next who he dispatched just as fast. Then he began to dodge and weave through the others, as the Wanderer progressed the boys playing the Gauntlet creatures got older, bigger, stronger, until Nico was faced with one that towered over him. He attempted to slip past, earning himself a split lip and a spell in the dirt for his poor reflexes, instead he opted a more aggressive approach, he refused to fail, he was The Wanderer. Ducking low he swung the wooden sword with all his might, it struck the behemoth's shin and he collapsed forward, Nico then slammed the edge of the sword right onto the other boy's neck, sending him into the dirt this time and allowing Nico to clamber up onto the stage. There he knelt and offered up the sword, the Shaman raised above the crowd and shouted in that ancient language which Nico only knew a little of, "Your Wanderer returns!" The rest of the day seemed almost a blur, everyone patting him on the back, wanting to shake hands with 'the conquering hero' and to wish him a happy birthday or to try and set him up with their daughter, a few offers Nico considered following up on, the Shamans sang the Wanderer's song, later on his grandfather presented him with his gift, a bow and a quiver of arrows, he wanted to practice as soon as possible but after the evening ritual he was tired and returned home, falling into the realm of dreams.

He was lying out in the desert, dark figures with pale blue eyes were bent down to look at him, he didn't know quite what they wanted, but he didn't like the look of them. For what seemed like an eternity the figures stood and stared at him. In the distance he heard a shrill whistle and the figures arched backward, grasping their heads in pain, in a hail of arrows they were driven away from Nico. And another strange figure approached, wearing a cloak and carrying a sword at his hip as well as the offending bow. He knelt down and put his lips close to Nico's ear, "Wake up."

Nico was jerked awake by the sound of screaming in the street below his bedroom window, he rushed to look out and saw people rushing through the street, screaming and pointing to the sky. His grandfather burst into the room and yelled for him to get away from the window. He stuck his head out and searched the sky before ushering Nico out of the room, the young man slung his quiver over his shoulder and grabbed his bow, it was only then that he realised his grandfather was carrying a sword. "We've got to go."

"Go where?" Nico asked, "There's open desert for miles around."

Disregarding his grandson's protest, Ico made for the stairs and then the door, knowing that his charge would fall in step behind, as they reached the street Nico was knocked down by someone fleeing the other way, he found himself separated from his grandfather in a crowd so numerous he might as well be looking for a grain of sugar in a desert. Knowing that he wouldn't find his grandpa again and not wanting to flee at any rate, he made for the walls, ascending the steps as fast as he could, already hearing his heart beating in his ears. He saw that others had assembled up hear, at least he wouldn't be alone. Drawing an arrow he aimed his bow at the ground over the wall, expecting to be met with an army, what he saw instead was what he saw every day, sand.

"There!" Someone yelled, Nico looked up and his eyes locked onto a huge birdlike figure gliding toward them. It Barely missed the wall, but caught it with its tail, crushing some of the unlucky archers and causing Nico to fall back down into the city, landing on a pile of hay. Having struck his head on the way down he descended into darkness, the last thing he heard was a shrill whistle and fevered cries of "Who is that!?"

-

Wander sat atop his black steed and whistled, loud and long, he knew how much the colossi hated this, sure enough the huge stone bird that was Avion wheeled around. He didn't know whether the Colossus recognised him or not and in all honesty he didn't care, he was simply here to do his job, he was here to kill a mountain. Leaving his bow on the saddle he drew his sword and jumped down to the sand, sending the horse on its way, as Avion approached he simply walked to meet it, as the distance closed he sped to a run, then, as they met he released a single, blood curdling scream which reverberated throughout the town. He leaped into the air as Avion skimmed the ground and thrust the sword deep into its wing, holding on for dear life., the Colossus began to gain height again, Wander retrieved his sword and began to make for the wing's tip, hand over hand, one inch at a time, even as the bird wheeled above the town of his birth. He reached his destination and ran his hands over the vein there, he remembered their weak points, even if he didn't have the Sword of Ancients any longer.

Lifting his blade he thrust it into the flesh of the beast, it screamed, it was a satisfying noise to hear after so long, the bird wheeled and began to drop, Wander hung from its back as it skimmed the ground again, buffeting him against the sand and succeeding in dislodging him. He lay in the sand, his sword on the ground not far away, he tried to lift himself, but was pinned as Avion landed over him. He reached for his weapon in desperation as Avion simply looked down its stone nose at him, he looked back up, meeting pure blue eyes with his own. Avion's eye flashed orange with revelation and rage, Wander's did exactly the same, prompting Avion to cock its head with confusion.

"Kill me damnit." Wander commanded, "Come on! Do it you stupid buzzard! Kill me! Kill me like I killed your family! Kill me like I killed you!" Avion's eyes faded to blue and with a flexing of its great wings it shot into the air and away. Raising himself and grabbing his sword, Wander held a hand on his chest, out of breath from screaming and from the weight of the bird's limb. "Come back here you coward!" He sank to one knee, gritting his teeth with centuries of rage, "Why wont you end me!?" Breathing heavier still he fell forward into the sand and as Nico before him, fell into the darkness of dreams, haunted by nightmares of himself, his other self.