A warning: This chapter was written during the late hours of the night, and so the quality may have suffered. If it becomes apparent that this is not something that can be called "art", I'll withdraw it and make another version. Enjoy :P
PS: Please inform me if any character acts out of character(in comparison to the first chapter, and also in comparison to the game)!
Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair
Madman and the Shepherds
Cries of rage and fear were sounding all around the wet camp site. The Risen had encircled the perimeter, and peppered warriors from a safe distance with arrows and an occasional javelin. Their situation was becoming increasingly worse; muddy ground made their foothold slippery at best, and the rain made it so hard to see that all archers became effectively useless. It was an almost unfair advantage to the Risen that needed no eyes to aim.
Slightly ahead from the camp, main force of the Shepherds found itself in trouble as the Risen axe men ran themselves against their defensive lines again and again.
Ylisseans were struggling: somehow, the Risen were launching coordinated attacks on them, exhausting the Shepherds in their battle against the brunt of Risen main force. Any stragglers were picked off with an arrow to the back.
Chrom ran into the middle of the worst skirmish, swinging Falchion in wide - but controlled - arcs, forcing the Risen to either back off or fall before his blade. One of them managed to duck his sword, but did not quite manage to axe Chrom as he brought down the pommel of his sword, knocking the undead down. He swung his sword gracefully around, and impaled the Risen without any hesitation.
Troops became roused by the courage that Chrom showed on the battlefield, and started pushing forward, towards the bulk of enemy force.
"Do not engage the enemy!" somebody shouted in an authoritative voice. "Fall back inside the perimeter!"
Chrom smiled. It was about time that he showed up. The tactician was standing on a munitions crate that he had probably dragged out from one of the storage tents. He did not look all that special while standing, but there was an air about him, something that made men listen to him and obey at his first command. It had not always been so, of course, but-
The prince snapped his eyes back to the battle. This was no time to be engaged in idle thoughts. Focus was the sole thing that carried men through battles unharmed, or at least made sure that one would not die. Thus, he had to concentrate on wiping out the threat that was before him, and leave the tactics to Robin.
They made a circle around the perimeter of their camp – according to Robin's orders – and put the heavy knights forward to engage the enemy forces first. Each one of them was wearing a great helmet and thick body armor that could have probably stood a blow from a dragon. Not that they were eager to try that out, of course; heavy knights were always the most sensible people in any army. According to the judgment of these knights there were more fools than sane persons in the Shepherds, for only half of them wore something that could be counted as armor.
Mages and archers were put immediately behind the heavy knights to launch an onslaught of death towards the soon approaching enemy, and cavalry waited behind them, ready to pick off the stragglers. Regular swordsmen would work as replacements if Risen managed to burst through the iron-clad defense, although Robin hoped that it would not come to that.
It was a plan that relied entirely on its shock value. If they failed to clean up most of the enemy assault during the first five minutes, the Shepherds would have much trouble disengaging from the enemy with their fatigued troops.
Robin was frustrated. They had no way to take out the archers that loomed at range, endangering every one of the Shepherds with their sweeping barrages. And then there were the mages: Robin wished that he had ten able pegasus riders, that would have been courageous enough to fly to the enemy spellcasters, dismount, and do battle on foot. But Robin had only two, and each of them was also married. There was no way that he could ask Sumia and Cordelia to take on such a dangerous mission; it was against his work ethics.
Robin sighed. These lines would have to last until all of the enemy's close combatants were destroyed.
Unless… No, he would not send Frederick out there, alone.
The tactician's hands were tied. The result of this battle would show whether his decisions had been right.
He somberly drew his own sword from its sheath.
If only there was a way to tip the scales in our favor.
"Caw, caw."
A murder of crows started circling around the perimeter. More were arriving by the minute, even in the torrent that threatened to sweep them all away.
The shepherds already had a hard time concentrating on the approaching enemy when the crows flew around them, but when the birds dropped a live person in the midst of them, the little concentration that they had shattered into smithereens.
It was a fairly handsome fellow with silver hair and an obnoxiously irritating smile. He felt like a person that would offer one something precious only to rip his heart out.
Such was the Shepherds' image of the person that stumbled into their camp during the difficult battle, smelling of feathers and rain.
"Caw,cawca caw", the man said to them, looking around curiously. Then he noticed Chrom, clapped his hands together and shouted once more: "Caw!"
Chrom had already figured out that there was something wrong with the man's mannerisms, but he could not point out what it was. His senses were screaming dangerous to anyone that cared to listen, causing him to hunch over slightly and prepare for the incoming attack.
However, it never came.
"Cawca… What? Oh…"
Suddenly the drenched, silver-haired man started to speak like a regular person.
"The crows informed me that you cannot actually understand the crow-tongue", he said while smiling, eyes closed. "The birds have cataloged the only people that can, you see, and so I also knew!"
This man, Chrom concluded, is a lunatic. It wasn't often that he made a decision to call a man such. What manner of man would dance right into the middle of the losing side's forces, and start a conversation?
"Caw,caw!" crows above them cried.
"A curious man" the silver-haired youth answered to Chrom. The astonished prince beheld him, wondering how the man had known his thoughts.
"Caaaaaaaaaw!"
"It is the crows, I tell you. They know things, and such blabbermouths as they are…" he said, quickly glancing at the dark, stormy skies where the crows gathered.
"…We really ought to hold this conversation when there are no crows, I tell you."
Chrom tried to reassess the person that had arrived to their camp, but he found it difficult. First impressions were hard to erase, and his mind was still dead set on attacking the man in the name of self-defense. However, he could still become an asset.
"Robin! Do we need crows?" Chrom shouted at the tactician.
"This man is... what, exactly?" Robin mused. The soaked silver-haired man - that Chrom had led to him - acted like a slightly deranged person, but his speech gave an image of intelligent, if eccentric man. He was a question, and those Robin could not answer right now; he pushed thoughts about the man's persona aside.
"Caw…ca?"
"If you really want to know", the man said to him looking abashed, "I have a thing for… indecent things…"
Robin frowned at the man. "I do not really want to…"
"Cutting and murder", the man told him curtly.
"Pardon?" Robin said, unable to believe his ears.
"And also science. It is a shameful thing, I know, but…"
"Murder?" Robin almost shouted. "And also, cutting what?" He was sure that the man would get thrown in jail when they arrived to the nearest city.
"You are not going to ask about my experiments, then?" he asked, appearing relieved.
"What. Did. You. Cut?" Robin asked, his face emanating the icy behavior that he had adopted. The trick worked sometimes, but not nearly as often as Robin would have hoped for.
"I am truly, truly grateful that you did not ask. I dislike telling about my experiments, as they are the most unruly sort", the silver-haired man continued.
The tactician gave up. Risen would be assaulting again soon, and Robin wanted to commence his plans before it.
"In any case", he said, "I was told that you have… unusual allies."
"The crows, yes. They make bad companions, but any kind of drivel is better that the clatter of stones on the highways."
"Caw!" a single crow answered to the man's claims.
"Look, that is simply how the things are!" he shouted upwards, leaving confused Robin hanging at the sidelines. The tactician assumed that he was talking to the crows, but who knew if that was really the case. They certainly did not have another translator available at the moment.
"Could your crows distract the archers and mages around our perimeter?" Robin asked.
"Birdbrains!"
"Did you hear me?" Robin asked, his voice scarily cold once again. The silver-haired man turned around seeming surprised. Perhaps he finally realized how grave this situation is, Robin thought hopefully.
"Yes. I will convey the message," the strange man answered to Robin.
"And your name is…?"
"Mine?" the man asked incredulously. "The crows never use it, so I have almost forgotten it. But…"
The man sank into deep thought.
Robin shook his head.
This wasn't what he signed for when he opted for the job of master tactician.
