Chapter 6
Grann Colony...
Stefan finally arrived three days later, and it was his return that attracted the most attention in the colony. It was he who had founded the city, and it was he who commanded the love, respect and authority of its oldest citizens. His steadfast presence was always missed, no matter how shortly he was gone.
"Where were you!?" Amy complained as she clung to his neck with her arms. "You worried us all half to death!"
"At least let me arrive properly before you tackle me and bombard me with questions," he laughed. He looked tired and haggard, but no less happy to be among his people again. He could only return Amy's tight hug and hope she let go of his sore neck soon.
"How is Soren? He arrived with you, right?" he asked the girl.
"Of course! His wound's all healed up too! I haven't seen him all day though."
"Stefan!" The relieved crowd that had formed around them parted to let the Silver-Haired Maiden through. "You've returned at last!" Micaiah said brightly, taking his hand and grasping it tightly in hers.
"Yes, but," he glanced at the assembled faces and then at Amy bouncing up and down by his side.
He leaned forward to tell her quietly. "I have news, Micaiah."
The hands holding his were firm. "First you must rest, then we have much to discuss."
xxx
After Stefan finished his meal, his companions sat down with him to hear what he had to say. Although some people had been sent to look for Soren, the mage had yet to be found so Stefan chose to disclose his information with just the present people.
Among them was an old Branded, a companion of Stefan's who had been residing in the colony since its original inception. Despite the graying in his hair, Cergis was a sturdy man. He featured a sharp angular face and hazel eyes, denoting perhaps a hawk ancestry. He was in charge of managing the colony's defenses.
"I went as close as I could get to Flaguerre to see what I could find about the boy Amy mentioned, but the whole of Mugill and Flaguerre are teeming with troops," Stefan said. "One Commander Arsten was riding with a loud entourage sent to investigate the disturbance. They stopped at Mugill on their way to Flaguerre."
"What I overheard seems to have no connection to the boy, but this Arsten was saying that his being sent there was delaying his preparations for the desert. I heard more of his soldiers mention something similar."
"The desert?" Micaiah asked.
"Wait, you mean our desert?" Amy paled.
"I couldn't find more of the specifics. I tell you, there was a ridiculously infinite number of them."
"Military preparations for the desert," Cergis repeated with a grave shake of his head. "We must post more scouts in the mountains to oversee any movements into Grann."
It had happened before. The Order sent small excursions to Grann once every couple of decades, and only once had they been close to discovering the colony. That time would have been the beginning of the end for them had a grand sandstorm not veered them off their location. They were not a rare occurrence in Grann, but there had never been a natural one of that magnitude. The exertion caused from its conjuration had left Soren weak for days after that.
If they were ever found, they would have to kill off every member of the unit so no one would reach Sienne to disclose their location. And although the colony was short on weapons, the excursion teams were often small and could easily be routed with Laguz help. However, it was no secret that the Order had been developing technology for long distance communication as well, and if the excursion team carried this, it was possible that word would reach the capital long before any man ever could.
Not to mention that if the excursion team never returned, the Order would only send more men to search for the missing unit.
"Stefan, what about the boy?" Micaiah asked.
"Did you find anything about him?" Amy echoed.
"Besides the fact that he moved about half the army to Flaguerre just for him?" Stefan shook his head. "I learned nothing new about his whereabouts. He created quite a stir, but I found no mention of him. It's been more than a week since that incident. I'm sorry, Amy," he said.
Amy looked down, but she nodded.
"If they've moved so many troops to northwestern Begnion, other areas in the east and south must have their defenses lessened considerably," said Muarim.
"That's the reason why I was able to make the return trip fast. The Order is so concentrated in the northwest now that they've left other parts open. However, this seems like an overreaction to me."
"This may be a good time to act," Muarim mused. "We won't get another chance like this."
"What do you think, Micaiah?" Stefan asked.
She was studying a map of Begnion which Stefan had laid out on the table during his recount.
"My foresight is silent, but I have a bad feeling about this," she said. "I want to communicate with Nasir again and ask him about the situation in Gaddos. I know we must act soon if we want to take advantage of this, but I feel we have too little information."
Stefan nodded. "I find it a little surprising that the Order would make this mistake at the most minor disturbance, but Begnion has not seen major bloodshed in centuries. Perhaps the commanders they have now are so inexperienced, that they believe this show of strength in the northwest will keep anything from happening, even if it leaves other positions with minor guard. Still, there must be another reason unbeknownst to us about why this has happened."
"Who is this Arsten?" Muarim mused. "His name sounds familiar, do we have other information on him?"
"He's the current leader of their expeditionary force," Micaiah said. "He's one our spies have attempted to keep a close eye on. Soren should have more details on him."
"Perhaps we should contact Master Nasir now?" Cergis asked.
"Amy," Micaiah called, "please go find Lady Almedha,"
The girl jumped to her feet with the intent to be useful. "Right away!"
"We had an incident. Some sort of curse was sent through Almedha's sending stone and it made her violent," Muarim informed Stefan as Amy left through the doorway.
"We don't know who sent it or how it was done, but Soren believes it to have been a wide-range spell. The Order must have learned how to harness the stones' powers," Micaiah explained. "Few people have the magical sensitivity to use the stones for telepathy, and among these could be powerful laguz. As the only ones in Begnion with a sending stone in their possession must be outside the Order's influence, if targeted towards them, such a curse could be intended to cause the receiving laguz to enrage and transform. For those who have managed to hide in plain sight, this berserk state would reveal them."
Muarim nodded. "You know the carnage that would ensue, especially from a royal Black Dragon. Luckily the queen no longer has this ability. We took the stone from her for her safety, but she would only allow it to be kept in Soren's possession." That had puzzled him.
"But we need that stone now," Cergis added. "In this case, we're concerned for Master Nasir."
"Volug," Micaiah called out to him, and the great gray wolf resting at her feet looked up. "Would you mind seeking Soren out?"
"There's no need," Stefan put in as he got up. "I believe I know exactly where he is."
xxx
Almedha's stone was warm from his touch.
Soren didn't like how natural it felt in his hands. He didn't know what to make of the feeling, and he didn't want to think about it. He knew it was a danger to hold it like that too. What with the threat of another curse being sent through it. He reached for a small box he'd enchanted to contain its magic.
Looking up, he saw the sunbathed precipices of the ravine's opposite side. The towering cliffs were visibly jagged and rough, but looking up at them from his moss strewn ledge, they seemed only majestic and grand; standing proudly in the sun while the colony was left in the safe shadow across it.
These were the walls of one of Grann's deep gorges that hid beneath the sandy dunes like chasms. The winding stream that flowed at their dark bottoms made special life abound even in the underground depths of the desert.
Soren sat with his feet hanging down the rock. Despite his physical recovery, he had been feeling drained and exhausted. He was situated in a place just below the colony, the surface of a lower outcropping ledge. It had been somewhere he could escape to seek solitude.
~x~
Some centuries earlier...
He noticed someone had followed him this time, imitating his descent into the small network of pit caves within the colony's cliffside.
The vertical caves led nowhere. They were natural gaps in the rock, too narrow to freefall through but enough to scrape yourself gravely if you lost your grip on the walls when climbing down. However, there was an opening in one of them leading to a rough side cliff ledge below the colony. Lately, this is where he often disappeared to.
He waited for the person who had been following him to emerge from the opening, standing on the rock wall a meter to the left of the entrance. Soon after, a mane of curly blue hair cautiously poked out from the opening to his right, eyes wide and observing as he slowly exited the hole.
"I don't think the exalted King of Daein is fit to be wriggling through filthy holes like these."
Pelleas's footing slipped on the uneven rocks and he fell on his side. He hadn't seen where Soren had been standing. The mage made no move to help him. On the ground, Pelleas's hand went to his hair nervously as he looked away from Soren's critical gaze.
"Please don't say that. You sound like Mother."
He was wearing a simple brown tunic instead of the royal robes he had often wore during the war. In the colony and the harshness of the desert, there was little room for luxury. The young man stood up and recomposed himself, but stared at the moss at his feet. "I'm no King here. My country and people are far away, and I cannot return to help them."
Truly, Pelleas looked very little the part of the Mad King's son. The boy was often awkward around his subjects and more than a little shy, but he had a passionate heart that toiled alongside them in their efforts to make a home out of Grann. But even if it seemed like he was easily intimidated, he had a strong will that kept the spirits of the Daein refugees firm despite their hopeless predicament.
Pelleas stayed quiet for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. "Healer Rhys is searching for you," he offered finally.
"And you volunteered to search for me, yes?" Soren asked with a touch of sarcasm. "Or what?"
The boy looked sheepish. "No, but I saw where you went. I thought I'd come talk to you. He's very worried, you know."
"That's not the reason you keep following me." Irritation laced the wind sage's words. "Your little game tires me. We're alone here, so speak plainly. What do you want with me?"
"I've... I've only tried to talk to you, but you never take well to it. Perhaps I've done something to offend you?"
"Only your annoying insistence."
"Just hear me out," Pelleas pleaded. "There's a feeling I have, that somehow you'll be able to help me."
"What could I possibly help the son of Ashnard with?"
Pelleas almost winced. Being constantly reminded of his royal origins made him uneasy, and he supposed that it showed. He knew the other man only did it to make him uncomfortable. He'd heard the tales of the Laguz Alliance's master tactician, who had led General Ike to many quick and efficient victories. He was rumored to be a man best feared, but after meeting Soren and fighting him once, Pelleas wasn't quite sure what to think of him.
Was he a powerful magic user? Yes, adept and deadly.
Was he someone scary?
The man seemed to possess a cold demeanor completely unsuited for someone with a face as young as his. He was ruthless and unmerciful against his enemies, but he was also possessed of a fierce sense of loyalty. Pelleas had seen this from Soren when he had been in the presence of his general and their companions at the Tower of Guidance. There had been another side to him then - a friendlier side, a warmer side.
Now however, things were very different.
It was evident that the events from Sienne had left a great change in him, as it had to so many of the other survivors. Pelleas didn't need to know him personally to notice. A light had vanished from the tactician's eyes, and the man's movements had turned lethargic by a newfound apathy. A persistent aura of pessimistic cynicism followed him around, and he was easily angered and vexed. There were dark circles under eyes that had lost their piercing quality and were now always far away in their gaze.
His health was also a matter of concern, something that had the Greil Mercenaries' healer running around after him all the time. Rhys was attempting to keep more of his surviving companions from deteriorating, but it was beginning to take its own toll on the healer's health - which was shaky enough from his own chronic illness.
Pelleas walked by the ledge's edge. He studied the sunbathed cliffs across the ravine in front of them, then glanced up behind him to the lower precipices on their side, knowing the colony was built deeper into those cliffsides below the desert surface.
"It's amazing, a village of Branded hidden in Begnion's own forsaken desert," Pelleas began. "Nobody would ever care to look."
"I've little use for small talk. If you have a point besides the obvious, reach it quickly."
Pelleas grimaced at the tone, but did not lose his nerve. Did it hurt that he was only trying to be civil?
"Alright. When I saw you for the first time, I thought you were like me. We were enemies then, but I will tell you that I felt this unmistakable rapport. By the gods, the brand on your forehead is nearly identical to mine..." Pelleas turned to him. "But that's not it, is it? You're no Spirit Charmer."
"Yes," the other provided simply. There was no need to conceal it anymore, not when they were in a village of others like him now.
Pelleas nodded, confirming his suspicions. There was something sad in his expression. "I made a hasty conclusion about Micaiah too. She never corrected me, I wish she would have."
Briefly, Pelleas hesitated before divulging his next words.
"When I was thirteen, I made a pact with a spirit and received a mark. People would see it and think I was Branded. I'd never met a true Branded before in my life, but people wouldn't listen. I was treated horribly after that, and it made me hate the Branded for it. I was taught they were impure beings. They were born without the Goddess' decree and therefore out of sin. I believed it. I thought you really were all monsters if you were hated so much." The young king sighed. "I see now, I was wrong. The whole world is. So terribly wrong. I don't understand."
"I'm happy a place like this exists, somewhere people can live away from the prejudices of the world. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never think it real. This place is also so untouched and unaffected by Ashera's judgement, we could almost forget. Stefan was kind to offer us refuge here. I only hope that our coming doesn't bring cause the destruction of the people here." The tactician gave him no reaction and Pelleas decided to sit on the rocks carefully, being mindful of the edge. He stared at the canyon walls above once again, eyes unfocused as he fell into thought.
"After all that's happened in the Tower of Guidance, being here has only made the truth so much clearer to me," he continued after a moment, something in his tone different now. "My whole life has truly been an utter lie." The bitterness in his own words surprised himself.
It was strange, how he could speak about this in the presence of someone that should have been a complete stranger. This was something he hadn't even discussed with Micaiah, whom he trusted dearly. She'd been so busy around the colony since they'd arrived some months ago that he had never found the right moment. And Almedha, she'd been following him so closely to make sure his health didn't deteriorate again... it pained him to even think of what hurt his realizations could bring her.
Yet still, some instinct kept drawing him to Soren, and a deeply rooted idea and suspicion in Pelleas's mind would not go away. Ever since their armies had joined forces, he'd had the strangest urge that he needed to speak with him.
"My mother-" He closed his eyes tightly. "No, Lady Almedha," he accentuated carefully. "She once told me that my brand was how she identified me as her son. But I know now who she is."
He laughed without humor. "A dragon princess of Goldoa! For the gods, the great nation of Goldoa! Ha, I know for a fact that there is certainly not a drop of such powerful laguz blood in me. Izuka was only too lucky to find someone with a brand like mine and a resemblance to Ashnard."
Pelleas took a shaky breath. "I am no such King. I have only ever been an orphan from Nevassa's slums."
Hearing himself say it out loud for the first time was both a relief and an ache in his heart. He had been foolish to believe Izuka, to mistakenly believe that he could actually be destined for so much more. He wondered, if Izuka had never found him at that orphanage, would he be in Daein now? Frozen in stone? Or perhaps if Izuka had never found him, Daein would never have become involved in war again, and the Goddesses's awakenings could have been avoided. Either way, would he still be feeling this wretchedness then? Or would he have died or have continued to live his simple life without feeling the painful weight of such burdens?
His held his head with his hands, and words which had began in a soft voice soon escalated in volume. His last statement had been a trigger of emotions, and now the young man could not stop the acrimonious flow of his words even if he tried. "I never should have been king. It's all been a lie, a cruel joke. It fooled the world and look at what happened to my people! I was stupid enough to sign a blood contract, I brought them into a world war - I doomed them. I doomed the world!"
"Y-you inept fool...!"
His rambling halted as he realized the tactician stood beside him. Soren grabbed the front of his tunic roughly, catching his attention quickly. "Get ahold of yourself! What do you think will happen if anyone hears you saying this, after everything that's happened? Do you really think your people need this right now? It doesn't matter what you did or what anyone else could have done. If not in this century, the next then: Ashera was bound to awake!" Pelleas's eyes went a little wide as he was given a shake.
"Your people are lost, and the ones who remain look to you for leadership," Soren continued. "Your illegitimacy means absolutely nothing at this point. Ashnard's true heir is dead by now, there is no importance in what would have been. You are their King now, and for their sakes, you will keep up this farce until you die. No one needs to know the truth!"
Pelleas looked away. "I-"
"The world is ending, haven't you noticed?" Soren interrupted, releasing his tunic with a disgusted noise. "Don't worry, your pitiful self won't be needing to suffer for too long." He turned away briskly, beginning to move away from him.
"It's you," Pelleas said suddenly to his back, at a loss for any other words.
The other halted abruptly.
"What?"
Pelleas gathered his courage, this is what he had come to Soren for. Convincing him would be the hardest. "I only figured it out in the Tower of Guidance. Before our fight with Sephiran was interrupted, he told me some information that made the pieces fit. What you said earlier, you're wrong. The lost prince of Daein and Goldoa - the real one - he's most definitely alive."
He stood up and approached the now silent tactician, careful to watch his footing on the rocks as he made his way over.
"I talked to your mercenary friends earlier, the ones who survived. None of them know a thing about where you came from before you joined."
"What right have you to be prying into my life?" Soren said, voice low. Pelleas really had to be a fool if he did not feel the fierce waves of animosity in the air then, but he paid them no heed.
"Forgive me, I had to know. And now I've never been so sure of anything. "
"You've gone mad," Soren said in disbelief.
"No! Please consider it seriously." Pelleas shook his head. "You must not know anything about your heritage either... Aren't you the least bit curious? In the tower, there was a moment you and Prince Kurth fought alongside each other. Before he transformed, I saw you both. And Almedha - you look just like her! Think about it! Your brand, your power, your resemblance to them, it has to be true!"
"How dare you! Thinking you know everything about me!"
Pelleas could see the violent intent in his eyes, but he stood firm. "Two of Tellius's most powerful bloodlines run through your veins. I will not be dissuaded."
The wind began to stir at his feet, rustling through the short clumps of grasses that grew on the rock. Vaguely, Pelleas registered how close the cliffside was and the real threat of losing his balance and falling. Yet he stood steadfast, even as the wind tugged at his clothes and hair.
Soren wasn't holding a tome, but the tremble of his frame made his anger clear. If he wanted to fight, Pelleas would be more than happy to meet his challenge - if only to make him understand.
"It's true," Pelleas insisted. He readied his own tome, dark tendrils of magic already summoned around his fingers.
Soren scoffed softly, shutting his eyes. After a few tense moments, the wind inexplicably subsided as quickly as it had begun.
"Of all the ridiculous things, this one is the most absurd..." The wind sage muttered a choice curse under his breath and turned his back to him disdainfully. Despite his anger, there was a droop to his shoulders that revealed a strained weariness. He must have felt it wasn't worth the effort to expend energy, not in his state.
He rushed forward to grab Soren's arm before he went. Immediately, those red eyes turned on him again, dangerously stormy.
"You'll keep away from me if you know what's good for you, Pelleas." Soren had held back now, but the threat was still there.
"You don't see it now, but you will in time," Pelleas said, looking down at the shorter man with conviction. "I'm not like you. Me and the other beorc may soon die, but you Branded and the laguz will live on. When that time comes, Lady Almedha will be devastated. I've seen it before, I know how she'll become. It pains me to know how I'll have disappointed her once she realizes I'm not her son. She's gone through so much, and she's done so much for me."
The grip on Soren's arm was strong. "Please," Pelleas said. "I beg of you. Don't let her suffer like that when you know."
~x~
He had wrested his arm away and left without another word, disappearing into the cave entrance and leaving Pelleas alone.
As that memory's recollection faded, Soren sensed Stefan's presence before he emerged from that same cave entrance behind him. He couldn't deny he was relieved the man was back, but he didn't turn to look at him as he heard his footsteps on the rock.
Stefan sat next to him with a slight grunt, the soft breeze that was channeled through the canyon ruffling his hair. Two pairs of feet hung over the ledge's edge.
"Magnificent view, isn't it?" Stefan said cheerfully by way of greeting, as if he'd never been gone.
"You've returned," Soren said finally, with a soft shake of his head.
"Yes. I trust you had no problems on the return trip?" Stefan asked.
"I think I should be the one asking you that. You were gone longer than we expected."
"We'll talk about it later."
Bird cries drew their attention above them. A hawk and raven laguz flew in the air, chasing each other playfully. They watched them for a moment, then Stefan gestured to the box Soren had forgotten he was still holding. "Has Nasir tried contact while you've been in possession of Almedha's stone? Or has anything funny happened?"
"We show it to Almedha once a day to check up on him. Her connection with him is the best."
Stefan smiled knowingly. "I asked about you."
Soren turned an irritated look on him. "Well, I can't exactly receive any messages from Nasir, because obviously - I am not a dragon."
"Come now, we both know you don't need to be one to use the stones," Stefan insisted, deciding not to give his difficult companion a break by pressuring the subject further. "And if you truly need a close bond for the connection to be optimal, doesn't Nasir make it into your list of 'okay' people at least? Doesn't he?"
"And anyway..." The swordsman shrugged breezily. "Not many of us here know exactly what we are. Who knows, as far as I'm concerned, you could just be part dragon. You've got all the traits." He grinned at Soren easily, counteracting the fierce glare. He had some suspicion over why the mage could get so worked up whenever Stefan brought the subject up, and boy, did he enjoy tormenting him about it.
"I mean, small? Check. Stony-faced? Check. Feeble and scrawny? Check. That's all until they transform, of course. Then they get all big, scaly, and angry. Thank goodness you don't get like that, besides the angry part. I might not know what to do then." He bumped against the mage softly, letting him now he was only joking.
Soren let out a disgruntled sigh. Why had he missed this man again?
"Oh yes, speaking about that, you really do need to put more meat on those bones," Stefan said, jabbing a finger at his side none too gently. Before Soren could get mad again, he continued talking. "All I'm saying is that we could be anything. I might just be part heron for all I know, see what I mean?"
"You can't be part heron, you fool," Soren huffed as he slapped the offending finger away. "You're too meaty. Look at Micaiah, she can barely lift her tome, much less that strange sword of yours."
"Alright, perhaps not heron. Perhaps cat?"
"Tiger sounds plausible. Even lion, although there's surely nothing regal about you at all. But they're the only ones I've seen that have a mane of hair as wild and ridiculous as yours."
"Hey! What's wrong with my hair?" Stefan protested.
"Just look at it!" Soren pointed. "I could mistake it for tufts of grass! You could hide in the sand and camouflage as a weed clump! In fact, I think you were doing precisely that when I met you!"
"Grass? Grass?! Grass isn't this hue, at least not desert grass!" Stefan argued, grabbing at his hair. "And I don't know why you're complaining about green, your hair is green too!"
"There's a difference! It's a very dark shade, you can't tell it isn't black unless I stand in the sunlight."
"No, it's not," Stefan laughed. "It's obviously green!"
"It's only your eyes that are too sharp. Maybe you are part hawk and it was your beorc relatives who had the bizarre hair."
Stefan grinned suddenly and pointed at Soren's face.
"I got a smile out of you."
~xxx~
..
Misplaced irony everywhere, heh. I see a chance and I take it! All will be revealed in time...
So I'm holding to a version where many people stumbled upon a very odd talking weed clump in Path of Radiance before Stefan finally decided to recruit himself into the gang when meeting Mordecai/Lethe. Who knows what the heck they were doing all the way on that faraway part of the map.
Yeeep! And I want to have the chance to write Pelleas in lighter spirits too, the poor guy. Soren was just really REALLY stressed out during that time. And currently, he's just very tired of everyone suggesting the very thing he tries to deny for multiple reasons.
So I heard about an idea someone did and I think it really appealed to me. I love Path of Radiance and Radiant Dawn's music. Would anyone be interested if I also posted this story on a site that can support links in text? So I can link you to game music during various parts of the story. If you're an auditory reader, you can have an enhanced experience with the music. I dunno. Would you guys be open to that?
Also, McHearth, thank you to for correcting my usage of the stones. I had forgotten the herons could use sending stones as well. Definitely, that was a glaring mistake. I've gone back and edited the wording. It's not a very significant change in the plot though.
Again, I want to thank all the people who have favorited, followed, or reviewed! Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think!