Chapter 1: Tomorrow's Dawn
"Come on, Rhys, it was entertaining."
"Absolutely not, Shinon! I was completely appalled to find they had rolled down the stairs!"
"But it was funny. How often do you get to see Soren trying to strangle Boyd?"
Rhys and Shinon were both wandering just beyond the western wall of the fort. In a white outfit designed just like Soren's casual clothes, Rhys nervously listened for Soren himself. The dark sage was always prowling about at this hour -- and as Titania had suggested earlier, he was in a presumably testy mood. Rhys preferred not to experience Soren's abrupt snaps of impatience and piercing glare when he growled, stretching the corners of his lips back and exposing his unnaturally sharp canine teeth. Although this was an absolutely rare occurence, it was unsettling and unpleasant. Shinon, on the other hand, had never witnessed a snarling Soren.
Titania was leaning against the other wall from the outside. She had discovered that, in truth, Soren seemed quite serene and quiet. She observed as he consumed the half-basket of strawberries he had gathered, one by one, piece by piece.
"You're hungry," she chuckled. "You have juice dribbling down your chin!"
Oscar came into the area with a smile of amusement.
"May I have some?" Oscar asked, hovering by Titania. Soren wiped the juice away with his sleeve. He was courching beneath the tree nearest the wall, seeming detached from the forest. He lifted the expertly woven basket from his lap, both hands cupped around the sides, then turned his body without shifting his feet and held the basket out toward Oscar. Oscar strode to him, knelt down, and retrieved the basket. Several strawberries remained.
Soren stared at the green-garbed paladin, who arose and tossed a strawberry into his own mouth. Oscar wore a forest-green shirt with short sleeves, an open neckline in the shape of a V, and he had shorts of the same shade that were cut at the kneecaps when he stood.
Curling up beneath the shade, Soren lay on his side and watched the wall from a flipped perspective.
Mia and Gatrie were both emerging from the fort's entrance. Mia was wearing an orange short-sleeved shirt with a long blue skirt attached and a round neckline, while Gatrie had a white shirt and navy shorts. Gatrie bore a grin and Mia was laughing.
"And -- and the way they rolled down the stairs..."
"If Ike hadn't intervened, Boyd would've turned blue!"
Lethe sat atop the shed in front of the fort. Her slim legs hung over the edge and her yellow-orange tail lay in a curl beside her, its round tip twitching over the edge. Lethe had cat ears on the top of her head. Her hair, which had grown roughly around her shoulders, was the same color as her tail and ears. The irises of her widened eyes were a pale purple, and her pupils were broad slivers of a deeper shade. She was wearing her complex forest-themed Gallian garb. Four stripes -- two extending from both edges of her face and vanishing toward the cheeks -- were visible in vaguely orange colors. A forest-green fabric collar wrapped around the base of her neck. It was tied at the back from which two long tails extended, both tipped with small spheric bells and reaching her knees. Her collar bone was exposed. Attached to the torso by the bottoms were her short sleeves, light green with thick, darker borders lining the tops and bottoms. The torso was light yellow. It curved down into a corner at the middle front and middle back, though the top edge was straight. At the top was a green border as thick as the ones on her sleeves. From that border descended a crease-line down the middle through the lower body's half to the skirt, and crease-lines at the sides that ended upon meeting the lower-body half. Small threads crtossed over the middle crease; near the top, two threads in an X formation; beneath that, a tiny bridge; below that, another X. Farther below was a slightly longer thread, and the corner was the same dark yellow as the threads. The back was plain. The lower body was tightly fitted with light green, curving over where the legs met the body and formed a round piece at the front on the bottom. A dark green border followed the bottom edge. Her skirt was of the darkest green. It had splits in the sides and reached only several inches beneath the lower-body half's front piece. Around her waist, on the back and sides, were two thin belts joining into one at the front, held by two loops. A broad and brown belt wrapped around her left leg several inches below the knee. Pale green bandages tied about her right leg from the ankle to the middle of the lower leg. She wore yellow shoes with large collars, brown wrappings at her ankles and before the toes, and a crease along the tops. To complete such elaborate clothing she had a frilly white cloth around her right forearm, with two leather, brown bands joined near the elbow, crossing over one another toward the waist and ending at the leather glove that left the fingers exposed; white bandages around her left arm from the elbow to the knuckles; then lastly two green beads somewhere in the back of her head.
Lethe loudly yawned. These beorc were boring in the morning, but in the least they were talking. Chatter filled the air. She could smell strawberries behind her.
"It's not like him though," said Gatrie with a frown. "I wonder if..."
"Maybe he still hasn't gotten over the fall of Ashnard," Mia flatly replied. "He's pretty dramatic."
"Aren't we all?" He grinned, his eyes filled with amusement. Gatrie found himself following Mia to the southern entrance, where hills and more of the forest lay.
Mia frowned. "What? I am not dramatic!" She tried to look over her left shoulder. "At least, not as dramatic as him."
Deep in the forest were Ike, Boyd, Ranulf, and Muarim. They hunted for fresh breakfast.
Muarim was in tiger form. His roughly shaped head and large, sharp nose inspected the earth for deer tracks. His coarse and short fur was green, decorated with jade stripes all over. His tail was tipped with a tuft of hair. A jade mane followed his spine from the top of his head to the center of his back. Protruding from the sides of his upper jaw were thick, elongated fangs. Bandages wrapped ariund his four ankles. His yellow eyes pierced the gloom. His shoulders and legs were heavily built, and his waist was rather thin.
Ike followed with a wary face. His hardened sapphire eyes watched the shadows around them, Shade was cast upon his light tan face, somewhat concealing its matured yet still youthful features. His short blue hair sat on his head in a reckless fashion. His right hand, which bore a rough texture in the palm, readily clutched the plain brown hilt of a gray iron sword. He wore a dark blue tunic with a short V-neckline, sleeves cut past the shoulders, and a brown belt bearing a golden buckle. Around his legs, Ike wore dirty white leggings. Mud and dirt stuck to his boots. His boots were brown with wide collars and flat soles curving vaguely to the shape of his feet. Tied about his shoulders was his cape, red on the outside and a light dusty brown on the inside.
Boyd trudged after them, his axe propped over his left shoulder. He had a faded red outfit similiar to Rhys's and Soren's, but with a short turtleneck and sleeves cut at the elbows. His carefree eyes were dark green like his short and bushy hair. Below the base of his bangs was a brown headband, with a line along the middle and a large, dark gray rectangle in the middle front. His boots were similiar to Ike's with thicker soles and round tops. Although Ike had some bulk on him, Boyd was a bit more burly.
A great and magnificent creature bounded in front of them. It bore great antlers and muscles. Muarim immediately raced at it with a growl. The tiger leapt upon the buck before it could flee too far, toppling it over in a rush, his jaws on its throat. As the deer writhed painfully, Ike quickly raced over, collapsed, and slid his blade through its heart.
In came Ranulf with a yowl. He was in cat form, with a round blue head, a short white muzzle, big ears with white fuzz inside, white fur down the chest and belly, a slim body, a long tail with a round tip, a little black nose and gleaming black eyes, and bandages just like Muarim.
"Mreowr!" he yelped, then said in his light and optimistic voice, "Muarim gets all the fun!"
"And so does Ike," chortled Boyd.
"Ew." Ike removed his iron sword. "My blade's filthy."
Back in the fort, Soren was snatching eggs, taking a few from every nest he came upon. He left one or two remaining before flitting to another nest.
Oscar had left to gather water from the river with Rolf, whose hair was messier and a lighter shade of green than his older brothers' Boyd and Oscar.
Mia and Gatrie were conversing with Shinon. Mia noticed that Shinon wore a tunic, exactly the same design as Ike's, of a jade color and white leggings with creases down the sides. Rhys had retreated into the fort.
Marcia was with Titania, observing the clouds drift by. She had taken her pegasus from the stables by the fort and come around through the front, as there was no eastern exit. Her pegasus's golden reins were lightly grasped in her fingers. The breeze lifted her long pink hair. Her brother, Makalov, was still asleep; presumably, so was Muarim's beorc friend, Tormod.
Titania returned to the fort. Oscar and Rolf came carrying buckets of water. Soren attempted to climb back down to the earth. Ranulf arrived, followed by Ike and Boyd carrying a deer carcass, and Muarim pulling a body along with his jaws. Shinon trailed along into the building. Janaff, in full Phoenician garb, glided out of the window on great hawk wings to aid Soren.
A few sniggered upon seeing the hawk glide into the same window carrying a petrified figure.
Rhys politely smiled. "Just like when I had to rescue you before."
"Except worse," muttered Soren as he was being set down. He was never carried through the skies so quickly before.
"You are the most lightweight beorc I have ever met!" Janaff quietly exclaimed.
Soren's silence turned absolute.
The entire time, Mist had scurried around, cleaning messes and folding clothes. Mordecai was helping her. Now Mist was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast with eggs and some meat that Rhys confirmed was safe for eating.
Rolf lay across a couch in the lobby, supine and staring at the ceiling with wide blue eyes. His head lay on his hands and he wore a miniature version of Boyd's clothes, although he had small and flatter shoes with red laces. He waited for Mist to finish cooking. He heard Marcia walk in with the pegasus loitering outside.
Makalov drowsily wandered the hallways on the upper floor, his poofy pink hair a tangled mess.
"Spri-i-ing!" Mia sang and she leaned out the window. Makalov turned and walked into the hallway. "What a wonderful da-a-ay! A great day to pla-a-ay!"
"H, Mia," yawned Makalov wearily, and he rubbed his eye. The girl turned around and grinned.
"Hiya, Mac!" she excitedly replied, bouncing on the spot. Her purple hair bounced with her. Makalov could see her white headband, held behind her ears and wrapping round the top of her head. Her hair was a round cluster that grew around her shoulders.
Oscar sat alongside Rolf's brown leather couch, his legs folded, his body facing Rolf, with whom he cheerfully spoke. Muarim lingered near the left wall, his swaying green tail with its round tip lazily tracing random patterns into the air. Like Mordecai, he had small ears on the sides of his head resembling a beorc's ears, though pointed and green on the outside, becoming white as it came into the furred insides. Soren had left his sandals by the entrance and now walked only on the bandages around his ankles and heels. He glanced at Muarim, whose flatly featured face displayed green stripes similiar to Lethe's. There was Gatrie stretching his back near the right wall. Shinon leaned against the northern doorway of the kitchen. Ike came in through the entrance at the south, scratching the back of his head. Boyd stood behind Rolf's couch -- which was positioned at the east of the large circular rug in the center -- with his elbow against the couch, his hand supporting his head, his knuckles against his cheek. Soren followed the perimeter of the rug. It covered a great area of the grey floor. Ike noticed that the white cloth around Muarim's unkempt hair seemed a bit tan, possibly from dust. Some of the group wandered the lobby doing insignificant things.
"Breakfast is ready!"
Mist's voice awakened every mind from idle leisure. Up the stairs went Muarim, intending to awaken Tormod. Shinon was the first into the kitchen. Following him was Boyd, Rolf, Oscar, Gatrie, Soren, and Ike. The green-haired brothers hurried in while the others took their patience and time to enter.
The table was long, rectangular, and brown. Ike seated himself at one of the ends. Titania was already sitting at the other. There was one chair at both ends, then eight chairs on both sides. Each chair was wooden, with four fifteen-inch legs and round flat seats. The back were tall and curved vertically, about three feet each. They were plain; they were sturdy. Soren placed himself at the seat on Ike's left, and Gatrie sat on his right a seat away. Shinon sat another seat away from Gatrie. Between them sat Mia, and between Gatrie and Ike sat Mist. Mordecai and Rhys delivered the plates. Boyd sat at Titania's right. Oscar sat across, and Rolf next to Oscar. Janaff sat next to Soren.
"Lightweight," he echoed in Soren's ear.
By Janaff settled Lethe, who drooled at the food. Alongside Rolf sat Makalov, with Marcia between Shinon and he. With a yawn entered Tormod, his brown hair nothing more than a great mess. Tormod sat by Boyd. Claiming the chair beside him was Muarim. Carrying his own plate, Mordecai sat next to Lethe. Rhys had his own, held with one hand -- whereas Mordecai had used both -- and seated himself between Mordecai and Muarim.
Ike could almost smile as he glanced over the table. Every seat was occupied. Never had he seen the table so full, even when his father was still alive. As chatter arose, his eyes drifted to a dish on the counter behind Mordecai.
"Where's Ranulf?" he called out, and only Boyd failed to halt in his murmured conversation.
In ambled Ranulf, the flopping ears on his headband flopping below his own ears. The orange headband wrapped around his forehead and skull with sand-tinted cotton on the inside pushing his spiked sky blue hair up. The cat laguz froze upon noticing the lack of an empty seat.
Conversations resumed, although Ike, Lethe, Mordecai, Gatrie, Soren, Rhys, Marcia, Mist, and Oscar stared toward him.
"You can have my seat," Ike offered. Ranulf blinked, grinned, and shook his head.
"Nah. Thanks, though."
Ranulf noticed a wooden stool with a brown leather top, sitting in the corner to his left. He bounded over, lifted it to this chest, and hurried over to Ike's right as Ike pushed his chair aside. Ranulf then retrieved his dish and settled.
Soren stared down at his plate. A slice of meat and chunk of scrabled eggs covered the white surface. He could see spices and sauce had been added.
Janaff gazed down suspiciously.
Ranulf was sniffing at it.
Shinon prodded the meat.
"Ah, right!" said Ike. "Silverware! Ranulf, could you get it?" Ranulf nodded, then walked away with a drifting tail. Ike knocked on the table -- a command for them to silence. "Family and friends of family, we have come together to share once again the times we shared nights ago. As the sun rises from its blanket of earth, Tellius wakes to its blessings."
"Let us share with Tellius these blessings," gently finished Titania, ending the prayers for the morning.
"Dig in!"
Some with silverware began to eat. Those without silverware simply waited. The first to take a bite was ravenous Boyd, whose expression of cheer abruptly vanished once the fork holding meat was in his mouth. Titania paused after lifting her fork, staring at Boyd. Oscar frowned and Rolf said, "Huh?" Mist noticed Soren didn't even reach for his fork or knife. He just stared at her. Ike consumed a chunk of egg and nearly gagged. Lethe's head was lowered to her fork, but lifted it to watch. Mordecai stared at Ike with concern. Gatrie stuffed his entire slice in his mouth. Shinon lost interest and trust. Rolf ate half of his egg an immediately seemed ill. Janaff merely prodded at the egg with his fork. Muarim ate the meat without a complaint, but Tormod exclaimed how bizarre it tasted. Makalov stopped eating after a few bites, Marcia didn't dare to eat her breakfast after observing, Mia ignored the taste and devoured both portions, Rhys pushed his plate away in alarm, and Ranulf was licking his plate clean.
"I'm sorry for my rudeness," Rhys apologized, his hand against the side of his head. His neat mahogany hair was dull in the kitchen light.
Gatrie groaned with a feeling of queasiness.
Ike attempted to force more food down.
Rolf rolled out of his chair onto his hands and knees, head limp, and spewed orange vomit onto the floor.
"Eeyuh!" Tormod abruptly yelped. Boyd gawked. Oscar rose from his chair and quickly stepped over to Rolf, bowed and attempted to lift him by the shoulders, and then received a splatter of vomit on his foot. Oscar grimaced at the slime.
Soren turned his head to Ike. "...This is why I had strawberries this morning."
Ike gagged on venison -- which was deer meat -- Ranulf asked Mist for seconds, Gatrie consumed the rest of his plate, Titania turned her head after a single bite of the egg, Shinon pounded the table with a fist in laugter, and Rhys cringed.
"Oops," meekly said Mist. "...That wasn't sauce..."
Spring was peaceful, holding the spirit of birth and cheer. It was now nearly the hour of the sun's descension. Chatter of the morning meal had subsided by then. Mist knelt on the shores by the ocean, picking the clusters of flowers that bloomed and humming her mother's melody. Mordecai sat with crossed legs nearby.
Although Lethe had four and Muarim had six,Mordecai bore many stripes on his face. They were smaller and slimmer, dark blue in color like his pointed ears which were tan on the inside. His eyes were narrow and calm, and the irises were yellow. The pupils were narrow slits. His face was broad, his nose lare, cheeks flat, and shoulders heavily built. His light blue hair pushed back and grew around his head, cheeks, and chin.
"What do you think?"
In her hands, Mist held two flowers with yellow petals and three with pink petals.
"I think they are wonderful," said Mordecai, and he smiled. Mist smiled in return and went back to singing.
Somewhere in the meadow far south of the fort, a small magic group had formed. Rhys, Tormod, and Soren sat aside one another, doing different things. Rhys's hands were clasped together in silent prayer, his head bowed and eyes closed. Tormod concentrated on levitating a small flame. His eyes were shut and his right hand was raised, its fingers pinched below the ember. Soren sat upright with his face to the sky, his eyes also closed; he was on his knees and his arms rested along his legs. He was meditating.
In the skies above the fort glided Janaff and Marcia's pegasus. Marcia's blue eyes gleamed fiercely as she leaned into the wind, her winged steed racing the massive hawk in a contest of sky speed. Janaff, in his hawk body, was swift and instinctive, his beak tearing through the air and sleek feathers cutting across the eye. Marcia glanced at his narrow eyes and jagged crest, his head tan and hooked beak the same shade.
Ranulf and Lethe sat in the trees, watching the two zip along. Their shadowed figures flew for the sunset. Ranulf's cat ears, camoflauged in his hair, twitched and perked. Lethe's tail was restless.
In a sudden instant, Janaff stopped midair. His feathers quickly melted ino clothing and skin as his wings shifted behind his shoulders. Marcia, alarmed by the halt, yankwed on her steed's reins and the pegasus reared back with a whicker and a whinny. The falling sun glowed against her red gold-lined chestplate. Marcia' pegasus turned to Janaff in his tribe form. Lethe and Ranulf quickly glanced to the sunset.
"Wyvern riders ho!" loudly shrieked Janaff.
To mount more onto the alarm, Lethe cried, "Armed with weapons!"
"We've got some invaders on foot, too!" finished Ranulf.
Marcia rode out to the fort with Janaff pursuing. Lethe and Ranulf nimbly scurried down the trees and fled for the base.
Soren, Rhys, and Tormod swiftly rose to their knees. Rhys led them out of the meadow. The shouts had been loud enough to carry to their ears.
"Mist, we must go."
"Why?"
"We are being attacked."
"Oh...okay..."
Mordecai stood with an outstretched hand. Mist placed hers into it, dropping her flowers as Mordecai pulled her up and took her to the fort.
Ike was marching around the carpet in the lobby, shouting commands as the commander he was, with the blessed Ragnell sword at his side. The torn edge of his old cape fluttered over the ground. His boots, the collars two inches below the knees, collected dust on their thick soles. The soles were metal platforms beneath the heels and frontal foot joints. They were white though the heels were grey, the shoes were brown with leather streaks along the tops and creases beside the stripes, black wrapping just around the heel and completely covering the necks and folded collars, and two brown threads streaming from the outer sides beneath the collars.
"Outfit yourselves! Gather your weapons! Assume places in the lobby! Move, Greil Mercenaries, move!"
He donned white leggings. He wore a soft leather tunic of the same shade as his hair, with long sleeves rolled up to the elbows; golden borders following the line cutting down the middle, and tracing the middle edges where the tunic split at the front below the belt; fatter borders running from the lines along the bottom; an extra piece hanging from his belt around his waist -- and a thinner darkgreen belt below that, crimson threads typing and binding the two on his right, the thin belt hanging somewhat messily with a tail loosely swaying.
"Check inventory! Bring vulneraries! Elixirs! And don't fall flat on your face!"
He had a shoulder guard with thickened edges and a grey-brown hue. Around his chest was a unique plate, expanded over his left and wrapped around like thread, with a silver buckle by the widened portion. His guard sat on his left shoulder. He wore black gloves cut past the knuckles which had steel on the tops. Bandages covered his right arm beneath the glove.
The collar of ihs tunic was wide and large, curving down at the front and then sharply cutting down into a corner. Beneath his blue and gold tunic was a brown one. It was just as long and had little else description. Finally, around his forehead was his black headband, tied on the back and leaving two tails with torn edges to flow freely. Near those edges were broad strings of intricate design.
Ike drew Ragnell and jabbed it at yawning Makalov.
"Hey!" he barked. "Wake up! We're about to go into battle!"
"Y-yessir!"
Now Ike jabbed a bow-wielding Rolf.
"Where's Mist?"
"With Mordecai! I think they're coming back."
Then he pointed at Lethe.
"Don't you dare turn that at me!" she hissed angrily.
"What do you know about our enemy?"
"Huh? Oh. A horde, carrying many beorc weapons. Too far to tell anything else."
Ragnell was looking at Janaff.
"Not too many, about five or six..."
"I heard many footsteps though," Ranulf added disheartedly. "Roughly fifteen."
"Fifteen...six...those are oddly high numbers," Ike pondered.
"Daein," reported a blunt voice, "and hired rogues, no doubt. The last of Daein's bloodline is dead. One of the villages must've sent them for revenge on us Crimean mercenaries." There stood Soren by the eastern doorway with a readily cold expression. Their staff officer was in full formal garb, his elaborate robes as dark as his hair and rather obscure crimson eyes. He wore his hair in two threads, both held by golden bands of crossing patterns. These ponytails hung limply from his head.
"Daein?" echoed Ike.
"Daein."
"But the war -- "
"Humans! They don't care for the end of the wars when they cannot learn from the undesired bloodshed," he bitterly spat as he closed his eyes.
"Hmph. I'd hate to agree, but I do," announced Lethe.
Soren now had his eyes on Ike, who had turned away to Titania.
"Anything?"
"I've only noticed some bandits rushing into the area."
"That must be the group approaching us on -- "
"Heed us, Greil Mercenaries!" cried the piercing, sharp voice of a young man. Everyone present -- Ike, Titania, Soren, Makalov, Rolf, Janaff, Lethe, Muarim, Oscar, Ranulf, Rhys, and Shinon -- were soon staring at the doorway.
"Oh, what -- form up, everyone!"
Ranulf was the quickest to be outside. Lethe stood by him soon after. Oscar burst out to retrieve the horses from the stables. Ike positioned himself between and in front of the two cat laguz with deputy commander Titania and staff officer Soren at his sides. Ike felt his chest grow heavy upon seeing the square outer walls of the fort, his mind drifting back to their old home somewhere in the northeast.
"Hmm...they move quicker than the wyvern riders," Titania remarked quietly.
The man continued to holler. "Your acts for Crimea against Daein have gone unforgiven! We, as fellow mercenaries, take the risk to warn you, and request that you not hold back. Do you reply?"
"We are grateful and will hold nothing back," Ike declared in return.
"Our band has been ordered to strike whilst the wyverns arrive. Prepare yourselves!"
Rhys emerged with Tormod behind, holding three heal staves. Each was of a sturdy brown wood, round and thick, reducing to a thin point at one end. At the top end perched a red orb on a hard, flat, and yellow crescent piece of metal.
"Quickly!" He passed one to Soren, tossing it into his hand.
"Rhys, I'm not..."
"I know, not a practitioner of healing. But please do it. You're able to, and it'd be helpful. Tormod, could you -- "
"Nah, I'm fine with blastin' them."
"I suppose I'll give it to Mist then..."
The fingers of Soren's left hand slowly wrapped around the cold, blue metal hilt of his curved dagger in a tight grip.
Shinon and Gatrie arrived beside one another, standing in front of Titania. "Standard thunder-and-lightning, commander?" inquired Gatrie.
"Standard thunder-and-lightning!"
Muarim stormed in with his tiger-form triggered by his demi-band, guarding Ike behind him. Janaff hovered above them. Joining the group were Rolf, Boyd, and Mia.
"This'll be fun, boss!" exclaimed jubilant Mia.
"Oh no...they're moving already..." Ike murmured heavily. "Assume combat formation!"
The spellcasters and archers gathered near the entrance. Shinon was right behind Gatrie. Oscar hurried out leading two white horses, one with a blue sheet edged with gold over its back, the other with a red blanket that bore the same patterns. He offered the reins of the red steed to Titania, who took them and pulled herself onto its back. Oscar did the same. The paladins placed themselves in front of their fellows. Soaring over the fort was Marcia on her pegasus, who landed elegantly next to Tormod. In the distance, their rivals assembled into an arrow formation. A man seated upon the back of a bulky black horse led the horn, his silver armor gleaming in the fading sunlight. A white patch in the shape of a diamond was visible on the steed's forehead. Behind the man at his sides were two axe-wielders, bearing heavy muscles. Further forming the perimeter was another axeman on Ike's left, and a swift swordmaster to the right. Behind those units were additional swordmasters, and by them were two more each.
"No archers, huh?" bluntly said Shinon. Gatrie tossed his lance up and it landed flat on its end. It stood tall as he kept a firm grip on its grey steel handle.
"Nope."
"Soren. Strategy?" Ike asked, turning his head and torso.
"They've formed a charging tactic," the young sage hurriedly replied. "Their axemen have handaxes, their horsemen has a silver lance, the swordsmen have steel blades, and there's a thief among them."
Ike nodded firmly and replied, "Alright..."
"What's avoidable is clashing with them head-on. I propose that we form up so that we may surround them as they come."
Ike glanced to their deputy commander. "Titania?"
"A sound strategy," Titania answered formally.
Now sweeping his eyes to their enemy, Ike composed his mind and readied his sword arm for the invaders.
"Alright, everyone! Reverse arrow positions!"
"Reverse?" echoed Boyd.
"Reverse. Which means mounted units in back and fighters in front, laguz go on their free will, flyers come down from above!"
Everyone rushed at his command, shaping their perimeter around him.
"Magic-users and archers stay behind the formation!"
Immediately, the spellcasters and snipers retreated to the rear, hiding behind Titania. On Titania's front left was Oscar, and on the front right was Gatrie.
"Back moves first, and if they break formation, then scatter-and-reinforce-each-other-Greil-Mercenaries-move-out!"
Ike had to silence himself quickly, as their foes were nearing with swift feet. He thrust his sword into the air and rushed forth at the enemy mercenaries. Titania followed on her trotting horse. A few paces after, Oscar began to move, and Gatrie attempted to trail after them with awkward and heavy footsteps. It was difficult to run in such ridiculously thick and heavy armor. Soon Boyd by Oscar and Mia by Gatrie were running as well. Rolf dashed after his brothers. Rhys hurried behind Titania. Ranulf and Lethe shifted into their agile laguz bodies, and with Muarim sprinted past the company to ridicule and disgrace the rivals' performance. Janaff glided through the dim light nearly twenty feet above the ground.
"Where is Makalov? Curse, you, Makalov, get your lazy buttocks out here!" Alongside Janaff rode Marcia, whose hair danced with the free wind as she called for her brother, her eyes focused on the fort behind her.
"This seems like an easy task," Shinon told Soren in a most dull tone. "Too boring for my skills. I'll stand back and rest."
Soren heard Tormod scurry toward the battle behind him. His eyes fell into narrowed irritation.
"We honestly can't have thunder without lightning," he replied just as plainly.
"Yeah, but what with the sub-humans picking them off, we can just relax."
"Even laguz are of idealistic and practical minds. They're not raving, snarling monstrosities." He briefly glanced back to the battle, where iron and steel flashed against cloth and armor. The black horseman had his lance lifted high. His familiar's front hooves raised above its ground, its mane tossed, body twisted, mouth agape in a violent whicker, and head thrown up to the sky. It seemed that Ike was brandishing his sword near the steed's throat. Titania was moving with her horse as though they were one creature of war. The mare was collapsing into a momentary crouch, its beorc comrade straightened her back, and Titania smoothly swung her solid shining axe at the opponent's thigh whilst clutching the reins tightly with her left hand. A cry rose from the man as Titania's weapon cut into its target. He quickly tugged on his wild stallion's black mane, and it retreated several steps back as Titania yanked her axe away. Pain was visible among the twisted features of his peach face.
"Since when did you become a laguz lover?" said Shinon with a smirk. Soren immediately cast his glare over Shinon.
"Excuse me?" he asked in a quieter voice.
"Nothing, nothing...you little whelp."
Boyd's own axe clashed against the enemy's. "Ha!" He twisted his arms, and both axes followed. The warrior's rival attempted to free his weapon. However, Boyd dislodged his first and flung it past his knee as it it was the heaviest object in all of existence. The other man staggered before bringing his axe over his head with great effort, just as Boyd pulled his up in a swing at the foe's belly. His aim was poor. The axe flew up and clanged against his opponent's steel, slamming it off its course of cutting into his skull. "Hurk -- ya!" In a reflex effort the weapon sailed down and chopped deeply into the right shoulder by the neck's base. Boyd's rival howled and shut his eyes. He stumbled back as Boyd rested his own axe his own shoulder. Blood laced the battleaxe's broad edge, sweat formed in his hands, and his heart pulsed wildly.
As blood dripped from the man's clutched wound, Janaff descended in a screaming swoop and bolted at him. Equipped with only muscle, cloth, and few pieces of metal, the wounded warrior easily stepped aside, avoiding the hawk's hooked and piercing beak. Boyd glanced about to observe the battle around him. It seemed that the thief was not fighting. No yellow strand of his neat blond hair went astray, nor did any part of his green clothing rip or tear. So peculiar was this that Boyd succumbed to his temptation of approaching the boy.
"Hey! What's up?"
Alarmed, the thief suddenly turned his head to him. "Y-yeah?" said the figure in a strangely feminine tone. Boyd halted several steps away, mouth open.
"Wait...you're no guy!"
"That's right. I'm the leader."
"No way," Boyd replied in genuine disbelief. The girl smiled, although it was quick to vanish.
"My mother used to lead them, but she died in battle." Turning to a direction, she pointed at Titania. "She was just like your red-haired knight."
Intrigued, Boyd raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
The girl lowered her arm. "Mmhm. That black horse used to be hers."
"Hi-yaa!" hollered Ike, and he swung his sword at a diagonal down. Ragnell's blade had then knocked the enemy's lance out of his hand. It was thrown aside and flatly landed in the grass.
Soren's eyes flicked across the field. His comrades had surrounded the other mercenaries, whilst metal and magic screamed and howled through the cries and roars of the combatants. Occupying the seven myrmidons, Marcia dove in and up with a blood-coated lance, her pegasus elegantly moving and twirling. Ranulf was fiercely whacking at one's head, wielding his flashing claws. Lethe growled in her most ferocious voice behind Ranulf's target. Rolf fired arrow after arrow at the man meeting blades with Mia. Gatrie was being swarmed by three of the swordsmen, but his great gold-lined, blue armor proved difficult to penetrate. He was shouting indiscernable speech through his visor as he swung his lance as the advancing men. Aiding him were Tormod commanding explosive fire spells and Rhys hurling chunks of light magic.
"Stane! Deryl!" shrieked the young thief as Ike whacked the knight in the side with Ragnell's flat face, and the warrior fell off the back of the stallion. "Deryl!" Rushing to her friend's aid, the girl left Boyd and snatched the flying mane of panicking Stane.
There was a swordsman behind Boyd, raising his blade. Soren cried out on instinct. "Boyd! Behind you!" He quickly calmed as the fur-garbed warrior whirled around and leapt back before the sword could cut into his helmet.
The three axemen danced around Oscar, unable to come close enough to the paladin. Janaff dove recklessly at one and crashed into the ground.
"Janaff!" exclaimed startled Oscar.
"That's -- Uncle Janny, kid!" the hawk cried as his body faded back to tribe form. He was on his hands and knees, glaring at their three foes.
Ike walked to the thief, who crouched alongside Deryl. "Do you want to stop the battle?" he politely asked. He was breathing hard and was pointedly paying little attention to the throbbing bruises on his face -- and chest, abdomen, and arms. The girl glanced up with a face of concern.
"I...I don't know..."
"It's not worth it if your family has to die." Ike's shoulders and muscles relaxed, his grip still warily tight on his sword's handle. He watched as she went to pondering at the ground.
Shinon was staring absentmindedly at the fort's entrance. Out burst Makalov with a scream, forcing alerted Sren to turn his head.
"Wh-what did I miss?"
"Just a bit of battle," said Shinon lightheartedly. "Not too troubling. Don't even bother to consider jumping i -- "
"Get your horse," Soren commanded immediately. Makalov blinked wildly, stunned.
"Huh?"
"Your horse. Get your horse." The sage quickly glanced to the west. From the falling sun came six shadowed figures, each with a pair of wde jagged wings and a body mounted upon their backs. They were distant, one far behind the other, and rather scattered, but dread weighed itself in his entrails. Makalov seemed not to notice as he dashed into the stables clumsily.
Through this moment, Mia and her rival were leaping around each other in constant circles. Mia's performance suffered from a deep cut on her ankle. She winced every time she shifted onto her left foot. Her opponent, his light tan arms and legs coated in numerous cuts, was quick to notice this new advantage. With sweat streaming down his forehead he sprinted at the woman with his sword clutched in his right hand, its tip just a few inches over the ground, and lifted it in a crossing uppercut at her waist. A strong wooden arrow pierced the myrmidon's wrist before he could properly wield his weapon. Rolf, a distance away near Gatrie's battle, celebrated gleefully by donning a joyous grin and nocking another. Mia noticed the arrowhead embedded in the back of the man's wrist. She flung herself into him, her left elbow digging into his chest, and the white sword spun out of the man's hand.
Rolf quickly turned around, planning to fire an arrow at an axeman using his swift fingers. One lay supine with outstretched arms and flattened legs, unconscious. The second retreated in a panic with brutal injuries. The third was attempting to pull Oscar's lance from his grip, for his axe was far from his reach and he had decided to try at disarming Oscar. Nearby stumbled Gatrie. While Mia wrestled with her foe on the ground, yelping and shouting behind the young archer, Rolf aimed upon a new target. The arrow and string slipped from his fingers. Whistling, the arrow soared into the nape of the fighter struggling against Oscar. The watched as his vicim roared, threw his head back, and staggered a few paces away. Rolf felt proud of his success. He shoved the image of the axeman's blood-spitting wound out of his mind, eagerly glancing at Gatrie for someone else to feather, his heart thumping agains his ribs in excitement.
Then the cry of ther unmistakeable tactician howled, "Wyvern riders!"
Ike took a hurried glance arund, then down to Deryl and the girl. "This is your last chance to consider."
Her arms hung around her comrade's shoulders. The thief glanced in the direction of the riders, her face full of fear and indecision. She looked behind herself to see the mercenaries still absorbed in combat. As she gazed about the battlefield, the thief noticed the unconscious axeman, the wounded swordsmen, and the other two warriors suffering pain from arrows and lesions. With her choice in mind, she looked up at Ike and firmly nodded.
"I'll withdraw. Thank you."
Immediately everyone lowered their weapons and stances.
"What?" said a black-haired man with brown skin. His sword was ready to slip from his hand. "No! No, Zelia we can still win!"
Mia's rival rose from the ground, trembling and scowling. "Coward. Weakling. You were never fit to be leader."
"Cease!" shouted Deryl. He flung himself onto his legs and tried to rise, but simply fell onto his knee. Pain crossed Deryl's face before he continued. "Zelia was entrusted to this position. You have no right to insult and defy your own commander."
Ike felt awkward, for he had once been the same as Zelia -- inexperienced at leading and without parents.
The girl appeared to stumble with her coherent thoughts. "No, don't try -- d-don't strain yourself, okay?"
"No...they have to learn to respect position..."
"Take refuge in our fort," Ike offered. Zelia gratefully nodded.
She glanced to the fort and cried, "Let's go!" Zelia's mercenaries were swift in response, immediately aiding one another to march to safety. Lethe, still in cat form, took several steps back to allow he men to pass. The two axemen carried their comrade. One still had the arrow in his beck. Deryl laid on Stane's back, led by Zelia. Titania's horse stepped away as a lance-beaten myrmidon helped his claw-torn friend walk along.
Makalov raced out of the stables with the reins of his horse in his hand. When he saw the group approaching, he hollered with fight, only to be silenced by Shinon walking to him and saying, "Shut up."
Marcia, far away, grinned at her brother as she dismounted her pegasus. Gatrie removed his helmet and sighed.
"They're pretty strong themselves," Gatrie remarked admirably.
As the group trudged past Shinon, a hand slapped him in the back of his head. "Ow!" His unusually narrow eyes shut and he clutched his skull below the high base of his ponytail. Shinon glanced around indignantly, crying, "Who's the dead fool who did that?" None of them returned even a peek at his long face, maroon hair, green and brown clothing, or the quiver of arrows with ends of red feathers hanging on his back.
Soren was now racing to his comrades, his staff lifted above the ground. Hos other hand strung from thwacking Shinon's rock of a head.
"Usayi uzikaman," he muttered, sweeping his arm toward Ike wihlst raising the staff. Ike's bruises faded. Soren proceeded to heal Titania, Gatrie, and Mia. Rhys was already restoring the wounded elsewhere on the field.
Tormod, one among the unharmed, brandished his limb excitedly at the air. "Daein!" he yelped, and as every eye turned to the six arriving wyvern riders, people shifted positions and dashed around the area. Janaff flew to Ike, landed almost recklessly on his feet, then reported a most unwell message.
"They're not lowering their weapons," said Janaff. "They're ready for a straight fight."
"Then we'll give them one. Greil Mercenaries! Form up!"
Ike turned to face the west, his eyes avoiding the sun. He heard the flap of robes and a cloak on his left, then the scramble of hooves on the ground to his right. His faithful comrades, Soren and Titania, had just joined him. Behind him, shifting steel and hurried footsteps were the only voices to speak. Ranulf sat there in tribe form, exhausted. Janaff restlessly wandered by the opening in the eastern wall. Muarim was settled next to Lethe the orange cat, licking his claws clean of dirt. Makalov trotted to the company on horseback.
Someone small approached. "Um...Commander Ike?" said Rolf timidly. "Since they're wyvern riders, can I have a first shot?"
Ike looked to the boy. "Of course. It'd be helpful. Get Shinon to help too."
As Ike returned to watching the coming wyvern riders, Rolf shouted at his mentor, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Uncle Shinon! We need your help!"
The Ike-irked sniper pushed himself away from the wall with a sigh. "What? The boy can't care care of himself? Some commander he is..." As he scratched the side of his head, Shinon approached them with long, impatient strides. He retrieved his flexible longbow from its place on his back. Shinon stood in front of Ike, obscuring the commander's view of the skies, and swiftly drew a long arrow from his great and delicately decorated quiver over his shoulder, pulling the string back, the thin metal arrowhead directed at the airborne spearmen. Rolf took up position in front of Titania and immediately imitated his teacher. Trained in wind magic, Soren flourished his hands free of his gold-lined black sleeves, setting them out the sides of his shoulders as though he stood between walls in a narrow passage. The air quietly shifted around him. Chatter grew still, weapons were readied, the sun's light faded, and the wyvern riders clustered into a great mass silhouetted against the disappearing afternoon glow.
The wyverns were slow to arrive. They seemed rather unsteady in their flight. With arrows nocked the archers held patient, and the winds around Soren turned violent. They seemed to swirl clockwise at his feet, carrying the tails of his turquoise and goldenrod sashes, brushing the four wings of his robe; yet at his head, the air spun the opposite direction, lifting away his two ponytails. His dark grey cape was caught between the currents. In the back, Rhys and Tormod had retreated as far as they could from their foes. Muarim stood on his four limbs, his tail swaying behind him. Marcia patted her steed's nose before preparing to mount. Gatrie leaned against his lance, for his armor was heavy. Boyd rested his axe on his shoulder. Makalov, on a horse most unwell with anxiety, patrolled the ground in front of Rhys and Tormod, his pale face afflicted with the first stages of a cringe. Oscar was right next to Boyd, relaxed but alert. Janaff sat on his rump with his body supported by his hands near Ranulf. Lethe quietly growled at the horizon. Holding her sword by the hilt, Mia's face was fixed in a sober, determined stare.
Each wyvern shrieked their death calls in a clashing, shaking symphony, and Ranulf shivered whilst Lethe's tail twitched and Muarim winced. The piercing screams appeared to disturb Marcia's pawing pegasus. Soren's chest briefly tightened. Rhys let out a shuddering sigh and Titania's face immediately hardened. Every expression was wary, cautious, enduring -- and trained.
"Uncertain...that is...our future," slowly said a monotone voice. Ike turned his blue eyes to Soren. The sage was still gazing at the wyverns, the winds around him becoming impatient. "Daein...our ruined home...Crimea...the ties between laguz and beorc... I feel unsettled."
Ike hesitated, then quickly replied, "Do you know why?"
Seeming slightly distracted, Soren shook his head.
"Don't worry. Whatever the future throws at us, we'll face it."
"Mm."
The commander returned his attention to the beasts and men in the air. It appeared that the wyverns had become excited, for their wings beat quicker and their glides turned swift. Their leader soared at their backs, a flying black banner with the flame-red symbol of Daein clutched in one hand, and the silver reins of the black wyvern grasped in the other. The banner appeared ready to tear away from its long golden pole.
For a brief moment, Titania began to wonder. These wyvern riders were arriving from the west, but there was only the ocean on that horizon. Daein was in the northeast. This struck her as somewhat bizarre.
"Soren," she whispered, "they come from the direction of the shores, not from the direction of their kingdom."
The tactician opened his mouth, though no sound came -- and eventually he replied, "They must have intended to surprise or astonish us. However, their mercenaries were too soft-hearted to maintai -- "
"For Talrega! Die, Crimean vermin! Your cold blood shall pay for its deed by spilling forth and bowing into the earth!"
Following the cry of their leader were the angry, confident calls of the spear-wielding riders as they sailed over the walls. In the instant, the place was pandemonium.
"Fire!"
Following the thrust of Ike's sword, the arrows ripped through the air and struck a wing in two different wyverns. The monstrous animals screamed, leaned, and plummeted to the earth below.
"Uuperron ukkupir!"
The words swiftly passed Soren's lips. His heart gave a great single throb as he flung his right arm up, his left below, with a right step behind; then spirits sang above him as a flashing green orb appeared over his head and vanished, and the wings turned on the wyverns and lashed at the four like whips. The turbulence brought them to the ground. Screams erupted. The Greil Mercenaries flooded forth. Soren swung his arm down past his left side, his heart pulsed powerfully again. and the air clawed at the enemy once more.
Lethe was bursting with shrill screeches as she jumped at a red wyvern's heels with her own claws. The beast stomped in a circle, roaring, only for the cat to leap off the ground and slide around the thrashing. She wrestled with its flaunting tail, biting fiercely and tearing at the scales.
She was one among the many who remembered the incident with Talrega. Talrega was a region full of innocent Daein villagers, and when they had come into the area, a flood surged forth, destroying crops and dismembering homes. It dismantled foundations and stole livestock. For this, Talrega accused the Crimean army. They never realized that the Daein militia had opened the floodgates, even if reluctantly. Although the mercenaries tried to lend aid, Talrega trusted none of them and none of their food. Crimeans were labeled bloodthirsty to the Daein people. They never sought to revel against their sovereign, Mad King Ashnard. Lethe remembered it all, for she had observed the battle for Talrega's open floodgates.
The wyvern's tail thrust her aside. With a grunt, Lethe landed on her side and the beast jumped forth as the sun shone into its slender face. A silver spearhead charged at her. She glimpsed a man in black plaid armor outlined in yellow before scrambling away, and the lance struck the ground. Muarim leapt in to intervene with his great tiger body. His sharp claws flashed, his razor fangs gleamed, and he attached himself to the red wyvern's chest, pulling viciously to tear flesh away. The wyvern screamed as blood spewed from its expanding wound. Lethe pounced while the man was distracted was and tackled him off his saddle. He landed on his shoulder screaming. The armored man stabbed with his lance, only to attack the air over Lethe's shoulder as the cat yowled and tore into him, shredding steel with the lance blindly piercing the air behind her. The stench of blood and cut steel overwhelmed her small nose. Her blood rushed madly as she slaughtered the helpless rider, ripping at the meat of his stomach like a truly dedicated beast. His shrieks of horror and torment swarmed the air. His spear was useless in his hand. The man became a cracass, a body of grated flesh, torn steel, and tugged entrails on the battleground. Lethe had spared no mercy for this Daein. With the taste of blood in her crimson mouth, she spat a stream onto the corpse's face and steadily reverted to tribe form. Exhausted, she sat on her knees upon the body's stomach.
The fur and whickers on Muarim's face were stained. Three cuts traced his head and a massive bruise marked his right ribs. But many slashes and scars were placed upon the thundering wyvern, and so it raged and roared as Muarim dashed at the unsteady creature, launching onto its head and digging into the eyes. Suddenly, as he landed back onto the earth several feet away, he heard the boom of powerful wings on his right. He glanced to a grey wyvern that soared directly at him. Without being able to quickly react, Muarim roared as the wyvern flew over and knocked him onto his side with its suspended tail. He heard a pound behind him. A sharp sting slid into his back and he howled. In front of him, it seemed that Oscar and Makalov were chasing the very same attackers, coming either to aid him or to resume battle with the grey wyvern and its master. Marcia dove in from above on her swift and elegant white pegasus, lunging at the rider. Muarim attempted to rise, but the red wyvern he had fought before stomped over to him and crushed him beneath its foot. He snarled as the beast bellowed triumphantly. However, Oscar and Makalov rode past the concerned Lethe, and while Makalov galloped past the wyvern to aid his pink-haired sister, Oscar struck it through the back and heart. Weakly, Muarim arose and fled with reserve strength whilst the monster gave one last screech before toppling forward. He abruptly halted near Lethe and flicked his head in the other direction. She quickly climbed on, aware that her weight was pain to injured but determined Muarim. He raced through the battle to the wall where Ranulf and Janaff rested. As Lethe dismounted, she removed his demi-band to force him to rapidly revert his body. He collapsed next to Lethe and rolled onto his back. She sat by him. Apparently, Ranulf was screaming at the others.
"Gatrie, get up! Up!"
The knight was on his back, thrown by the bright silver wyvern's tail. Rhys muttered a prayer behind his fist and thrust his hand into the air. A brilliant light shone above his head as he glanced to the skies, rays of light descending upon the rider and mount and cutting through both. The wyvern stumbled. Shinon walked over, knelt down, and pushed an exasperated Gatrie onto his hands and knees.
"Thanks, Shinon!" he panted as he tightened his grip on his lance, and he pushed himself into a stand. Gatrie swung around as Shinon rose behind him with a nocked arrow. Shinon soon shot the wyvern in the forehead and the reptilian animal simply fell onto its rump and sprawled out.
"M-Mordecai!" gasped Mist as they burst out of the northwestern forest. "What's going on?"
"They are fighting."
As though in pain, Mist closed her eyes, raised clasped hands to her chest, and shook her head. "Why...? Why now? Oh...Ike...Brother..." She opened her eyes and sighed at the ground. The girl followed Mordecai's trailing tail as he ran for the fort.
Gatrie's jaws clenched as his spear rammed through the man's neck. Killing was always unpleasant to many of the mercenaries present. Rhys turned and retreated to the wall where the wounded and the watcihng laguz sat, and Gatrie allowed his gaze to wander. He hadn't noticed the fact that his armor hadn't chipped at all. He noticed a freshly slain red wyvern and rider, then realized that he left his lance in the carcass's throat. Gatrie pulled it out and returned to the other bodies. Arrows had embedded themselves into the corpses, which only meant that Rolf and Shinon had feathered them. Shinon himself saw, not too far from the bodies, a fourth pair of Daein dimwits against Oscar, Boyd, Tormod, and Rolf.
Boyd had received moderate lance wounds and several crushed bones. Blood lined his axe -- which was on the ground -- and he was on his stomach, groaning. His body ached and a pulse throbbed painfully in his forehead. Sweat had formed in his hands, armpits, on his head, and he could feel it on his back. Boyd could feel his blood trickling from his wounds over his arms, from his back, and from his thigh. Tormod was brandishing his hands and hurling glowing balls of flame at the enemy. The spells were poorly aimed, so Oscar and his horse were to navigate around them whenever they hit the ground. Oscar's lance flew for the red wyvern's leg and it struck. His weapon slipped away as the creature growled and staggered off, seeming displeased with the thorn piercing its limb.
"Aiaf!" hollered Tormod, and he punched his outstretched hand forth. The orb of rolling fire over his head slammed down and engulfed the warrior and wyvern in an explosion of flame. He cheered delightedly, and Rolf (who had taken the time to carefully aim) struck the wyvern in the heart with a flying arrow. Their foe collapsed, falling over onto its side and crushing its yelling rider. Oscar lifted Boyd onto his bloodstained horse's back to ride him to Rhys, and Rolf raced over to follow his brothers. Meanwhile, Tormod beamed, then noticed a battle farther away. Like a fly to the light he rushed away to aid Mia and Marcia. Behind him, the leader of the vengeful wyvern band was facing Commander Ike, Deputy Commander Ike, and their staff officer Soren.
Unfortunately, both the regally armored man and the formally garbed wyvern were vicious. The banner that the master held was truly tipped with a polished silver spearhead. The wyvern's eyes were strikingly white.
They were high in the air, and in the claws of the massive black beast was poor terrified Soren, the talons digging into his waist from front to back, strangled by the wyvern's other hand. He was bleeding from where the claws gripped him. He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding, racing with fright, his body shivered fearfully in the dangerous altitude and whipping winds, his hair and clothes lashed in the current, and he gazed at the cackling man above him with wide eyes. He could not hear much of the laughter over the gale.
But below, Ike and Titania heard him perfectly.
"No!" shouted Titania. "Soren, hang in there! Soren!"
"Blast," Ike snarled through gritted teeth. His knuckles were white from how tight his fists were. He glared up at the figure that glided to and fro in the sky, and Janaff casually approached with a grin and hands in his pockets.
"My cue, right?"
Ike turned his eyes on Janaff, alarmed yet grateful. "Yeah."
The hawk nodded, and suddenly his Phoenician clothing and human features receded into a body of brown and tan feathers, his head forming into a slim shape with a sharply curving beak, his arms vanishing, his legs thinning to narrow limbs, and a massive fan of feathers sprouting as his tail. He seemed to crouch before he abruptly sprung into the air, his wide wings carrying him into the sky. He swooped from one point to another as he quickly ascended, with the wind sweeping over his features and rushing into his fair. He was accustomed enough to flight that he needed not to squint.
Above, the wyvern grew bored of its squirming toy. Its hand released Soren's throat, but he was far too frightened to breathe, and just as he took a desperate gulp of air the wyvern lifted his wind-beaten body and chucked him down. The man pulled on the reins and his mount took a descending swerve. Soren glanced around wildly, thinking his heart would rupture, spinning as he fell. His rolling ceased and all he saw was the distant ground. He was going to die. Whether the Daein rider drove his lance through his ribs midair, or he reached the earth in a crash, he was not likely to survive. Claws seized him in the back. Soren winced, twisting his face and grunting. Suddenly everything blurred. His hair and black robes angrily whipped above him while something carried him back to earth in a lightning dive, something swifter than any wyvern. Blood flowed from his right nostril.
In a moment, he was back on his feet, trembling terribly and bleeding from several spots. He collapsed onto his knees and hands with a heavy sigh.
Soren heard Ike to his left. "Good work, Janaff!" He raised his head, noticing the staff he had dropped a good distance away, and resisted the ill urge to vomit on the ground.
Ike glanced up to see the black wyvern dashing down at him. He stood over Soren, his cape brushing over the spellcaster's back, and defensively raised Ragnell. As the sword's point threatened the approaching duo he heard the man snarl what was presumably a curse, and the wyvern turned, landing with a loud thud nearby. The earth shuddered.
Janaff shrieked and dove right for the rider's head. Marcia charged in from above, lunging with her lance. Ike sprinted for the fray, intending to bring the mount to its knees, whilst Titania leapt over Soren on a whickering horse and brandished her axe. Tormod flung a tendril of fire from a distance. Janaff, who had furiously punched at the man's armor with his talons, evaded the blows of the lance and fled from Tormod's spell. Marcia failed to penetrate the armor -- to her aggravation -- and also glided away. Ike and Titania met the creature's claws and roars with steel, but scattered. Soren shakily arose and retreated to Rhys's location. Smoke singed the air, the sun vanished completely, the fire's light replaced it, and the black beast was thrashing in the eruption as the man screamed. Ike noticed the wyvern leap out of the spell, now with a lame leg. He hurried in to finish the fight.
"Ike!"
The commander's eyes were pulled to the western exit where Mist stood. She was waving as a great blue figure bolted in. Mordecai rushed at the wyvern, roaring, and he caught the tip of its tail in the solid grip of his jaws. His opponent bellowed, turning to face him, as Ike took this opportunity to challenge the rider and flourished his weapon at the man's legs. The rider retaliated with two blind stabs, both with Ike sidestepped. Angered, his rival took a third stab, but Ike avoided this as well. His free hand yanked the lance away. Then he held it with both to Titania, who took the pleasure of snapping it in two with her axe.
An arrow whistled over his head. He glanced away to see the man topple off his mount's back as the wyvern continued to scold Mordecai, who still pulled on its tail. Ike raced around the beast to see he had rolled onto his back, the arrow in his chin. He glanced to the source to see Rolf aiming at the wyvern and Shinon nodding proudly behind him.
"Just surrender now," said Ike as he glanced down, his expression hard. "We'll heal you up and let you go."
"Never!" snarled the warrior. His face screwed in pain as he spoke, and he was breathing harshly. "You Crimeans shall not soil my glory!" He appeared that he would sob soon after, but Ike took no notice.
"We're just mercenaries. Come on..."
Ike was in mid-kneel, his arm outstretched in a gesture to aid the man, when Soren appeared without warning. He had not recovered from his brush with near-death. He was still shivering. Soren frantically removed the man's chestplate without allowing him to rise, tossed the strip of armor aside, and Ike was gripped with dread as a flashing stiletto was drawn from its scabbard. It was a knife of wicked design, a knife that Soren stabbed at the screaming man's heart countless times until the howls faded and blood flecked his hand and pitch-black sleeve. His other hand gripped the rider's throat, which had nailed him to the earth. Now, Soren slowly looked at gawking Ike's race, his eyes burning with anger and revenge -- eyes of the same color as that which stained the grass, their armor, their clothing, the corpses and their skin, eyes that seemed to belong to a laguz monster full of provoked bitterness -- and then those eyes flickered back to tired little beorc Soren, little half-blood faking his identity, his frail sage unfit for the rough life.
Ike was suddenly aware of the wyvern behind him.
"What'll we do with it, Boss?" asked Mia. Ike glanced at them, seeing Mordecai still seizing its tail.
"Just...get rid of it..."
He closed his eyes as Titania raised her axe.
