Chapter 11 - One Good Turn
"Do you think the Plegians will attack soon, Robin?" Chrom asked, as he paced around Robin's strategy tent, fiddling with his fingers, having safely stored Falchion away at Sumia's suggestion. "Do you think they'll get here before the Feroxians do?"
"I don't know. They seem to be stalling for something. If it came down to it, we could most likely break through their forces, and hurry back to Ylisse. But for now it would be best to keep up our scouting routine, as we wait for Basilio." Robin added the last sentence before Chrom could speak. "We don't want to lose anyone." Though he didn't say it, the grimness in his eyes made it clear who he was referring to.
"They'll come back soon. It's only been a few days."
"I fear for them. I fear that I made a mistake letting them out, alone, into the harsh desert."
"They're strong. We just have to trust in them."
"I know what you're saying, Chrom. But Sumia and Lissa are worried, aren't they?" The prince hesitated, and Robin sighed. "If Cordelia and Ricken don't come back soon, before Ferox arrives, they'll be left behind. You know as well as I do that we can't wait for them, unless we want to risk the whole of our force."
"Yes, Robin. You can be damn sure I'm aware of that." A moment's silence as the two Ylisseans looked at each other. "I shouldn't have made such an outburst. It was uncalled for." Robin stretched, getting up from his chair and moving over towards Chrom, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not your fault. The stress is getting to all of us."
"Damn Gangrel. This is all his doing."
"He's not put us in an easy position. We have to be prepared for whatever he plans next."
"Yes, Robin." Chrom took a deep breath. "I should go now. Sumia'll be worried."
"Onwards you go, prince."
Cordelia walked slowly, beneath the sweltering heat of the Plegian sun. Her head buzzed and ached, as it glistened with sweat streaming down from her face. It felt like she was being barbecued beneath her armour, and she panted for breath repeatedly, having no water to refresh herself. By the time she'd escaped the building, it had been rapidly approaching night, and after a pathetic attempt at sleeping, she'd started travelling again the next day, rings around her sorrowful eyes. Her brain wasn't alert - memories and regrets bounced all around her head, a mess of jumbled signals distracting her senses, and making it hard to concentrate. Feeling sick, the constant buzzing of flies dancing around her head and torso causing a sense of queasiness to build up in her belly, she forced herself to march through the shifting sands. The sky clear above her, allowing the sun to fire down its' harsh rays, she kept going, her head down low, avoiding the blare of blue from on high.
Cordelia didn't know where she was walking. It had been a couple of days since Ricken's death, and she'd escaped into the desert of Plegia, only to wander freely, without any kind of direction. She had no idea where the Shepherds were. Guessing at a possible location, she followed the sand dunes, her boots making prints in the yellow beneath her. All the while, she tried to keep as alert as she could, despite the parched, irritating dryness in her throat. How long had it been since she had last drunk water? She had a flask stored around her hip, but it was barren, long since empty. Walking sadly, she occasionally turned to her side, but she had no companion save the whistling desert winds, which sometimes intensified, bringing with them a storm of sand, whipping and biting at her exposed hands and face. Alone, she wandered, tears rarely dropping from her face, only to be instantly forgotten as they plunged into the swirling solids below.
It had to be three or four days before Cordelia came across what looked like an old supply camp. At first, she blinked, not sure if what she was seeing was some kind of mirage brought on by her delusional mind - it wouldn't have been the first illusion she saw; her brain conjuring up images of long dead pegasus knights or mages accompanying her for a precious few moments, before she harshly dispelled the frauds. But, as she closed in on its' location, rubbing her grainy eyes with sandy fingers, the image came closer and closer into focus. Would they have water? Food? Her body was practically running on empty. Only a fierce survival instinct allowed her to keep going on. Keeping herself going, the faint promise of sustenance laid out tantalisingly in front of her, she focused on thoughts of food and water, instead of practical questions.
Cordelia's desires were rewarded as she glanced around the site. A couple of bags lay about, bread, dried meat rations and flasks of water hiding within the protective leather shells. Gluttony consuming her, she raced over to them, not even stopping to inspect whether it would be a trap or not. Guzzling down all the fluids from one of the containers in a matter of seconds, she took a deep breath, gulping slightly as she let the liquid trickle down her, moisture finally softening the harshness of her throat, relaxing the rawness building up inside. Licking her lips, she let out a deep sigh. Her hunger ravaging at her, she consumed a group of the rations, not stopping for a minute to check if they were pork, beef or something else. All that mattered to her was shovelling as much food down her mouth as quickly as she could. The bread that she ate was dry and hard, but she didn't care, the sensation of something touching her throat that wasn't sand providing her with enough nourishment just to keep going. Her mouth slightly watering as she ravaged more and more of the meal, she eventually stopped, her stomach satisfyingly full. Sighing deeply, her greed under control, she gazed around her. As she explored the camp, she realised two things. This wasn't abandoned due to some attack - there were no signs of a struggle, and as she explored the place, all she found were carefully discarded sacks, and old tents, pinned to the ground and never allowed to move. Secondly, this wasn't Plegian. The thought nagged at her as she completed a circle of the place, and as she reached the end, the realisation hit her like a wave crashing over her. This was Feroxian. But what were they doing here? Searching through the rest of the bags, she checked around for any documents that could give her some kind of indication as to the reasons for Feroxian presence in Plegia, but found nothing. Sighing, she gazed around. She'd have to move on.
"How long do you think they'll be gone, Captain?" Sumia asked Chrom, as she felt around for the grip of his hand.
"I'm not sure, Sumia." It had been the third time he'd answered this question, and he was starting to wonder if Cordelia and Ricken were ever going to return. "But I'm sure they don't want you to spend all your time worrying about them." Sumia sighed.
"I know, Captain. I just can't help myself."
"They'll be fine. I have faith in them." He smiled as gently as he could at her. "For now, we have more pressing matters to deal with."
"What did Robin say about the Feroxians?"
"All we know is that they're still marching towards us. We can only hope they reach us before Plegia strikes."
"Are you worried, Chrom?" There was a concerned look on her face.
"I'll be fine, Sumia." Kissing her gently on the lips, he cradled her slightly. "I'll be fine."
Another camp. Cordelia scanned around it, noting from the colours of the banners left flapping around in the harsh desert winds that it too was Feroxian. And again, it was the same story as last time. There had to be a reason for this. Taking a deep breath, she tried to work out what direction she'd been walking. Gazing up into the heavy blue skies, she guessed it to be north, perhaps having been driven east somewhat by the sandy storm. As she headed towards the foodstuffs stored around, she realised that they were older, and staler than those she had found previously. Regarding them with an odd stare, she shook her head as she sighed, deciding they were too dated to be safe. The last thing she wanted was to be sick. Sitting down on the warm sands, she felt a blast of heat surge up, and she bit her lip at the discomfort. But her legs were too sore, too tired from walking that the thought of standing up was more a joke than anything else. Looking around the Feroxian camp, she put a hand to her head as she felt the burning haze burrow into her brain. Why were they in Plegia? Robin had told her why, and she couldn't remember. A tear trickled down her face. That had been so long ago. Swallowing, she felt a rising shout dig into her lungs, scrambling at her throat in an effort to get free. Her fists clenched, sweat pouring down her arms as she stretched her legs out, wincing slightly at the pain. Choking on her own voice, she let out a pained cry, as she tried to work through the various reasons for the Feroxi presence. Were they coming to help the Ylisseans? A small smile stretched on her face. If that was the case, then she could find the Shepherds again. Forcing herself to stand up, powering through the pain bursting from her legs, flooding up into her body, she let her arms straighten out. At least she had a purpose now.
It was some manner of days before Cordelia stumbled across another important camp. She'd found various tents and banners, with bags and sacks scattered around them, and it was enough to keep her going, but it didn't offer any clues to how far away the main army of Ferox was. Trying to follow some sort of path, she'd eventually managed to wind up in a part of the desert that was practically coated with dunes, hills of sand rising up and down. And within those yellow mountains, she'd found a smattering of tents pitched across the golden surfaces. Taking a breath, letting some of the ache in her muscles flow out of her mouth, she headed towards the camp, the glare from above beating on her back. Though it seemed a far distance away, she eventually managed to reach it, and as she began to stare around, her eyes watching out for anything of importance, a noise made her jump slightly, although she didn't show it.
"You! What business have you here?" A group of Feroxian soldiers advanced on her, sharpened lances held in their hands. They were dressed for war, and helmets concealed the faces of all but their leader, who had a steely set of grey eyes. "Why do you disturb us?"
"I-I-" She spluttered, trying to regain her composure. "I was looking for you."
"What do you want with the might of Ferox?" She was painfully aware of the fact the warriors were now circling around her, taking steps closer, giving her almost no room to breathe past the circle of glinting steel.
"Are-are you heading to the Shepherds?"
"Why does this information concern you?" Another step. She could almost feel the points touching her armour, and visions of agony flashed before her eyes, her body trembling and beginning to sweat profusely. "Well?" The man barked, terminating the words she was about to form.
"My name's Cordelia. I'm a Shepherd." The soldier narrowed his eyes at her, as she felt him scan all over her body, her privacy invaded.
"I've heard that name before." There was a brief pause, and Cordelia felt her stomach start to sink as if a ship with a breached hull. "Come with me." She felt a hand grab her arm, roughly, and she fought to stop herself from crying out as she was yanked on, following the soldier along as if she was his slave.
Cordelia was dragged along the entire width of the camp, until she was hauled in front of a soldier, dressed in polished armour, with a crowned helmet. Though he had a large figure, his body towering over her, he had a pair of relaxed blue eyes, despite the lance he wielded, which was almost as tall as him, the sharpened splint at the end glinting in the sun's glow. At his side were two stern-faced guards, both armed with halberds, and clad in steel plate. She was painfully aware of their fixed stares, eyes glaring at her as she cleared her throat, looking at the Feroxian commander. He seemed to be expecting something, and as she felt the rising surge of panic soar through her lungs, she coughed.
"Um..."
"Answer our commander." A voice from behind spoke, and she gulped.
"I'm with the Shepherds. My name is Cor-" She struggled with her words, only barely able to utter them. "Cordelia." The man laughed at that, and with a wave of his hands, he dismissed the majority of his soldiers, leaving just the two by his side. "I've been trying to find you. I'm hoping you could return me to the Shepherds."
"Yes, Cordelia. We've heard about you. You're the one who saved those villagers."
"I-I didn't save them all..." She sighed, her fists clenching as she dug her nails deep into her flesh. "I could have saved them all." The Feroxian gave her a look she couldn't decipher, and she panicked slightly, stepping backwards. "I'm sorry. Such displays are unbecoming of me."
"No. It's not your fault. We all falter from time to time. But enough talk. We're here to celebrate!"
"We are?"
"Once we get to the Shepherds, we can escort them back to Ylisse. And what better way to do that then to deliver them one of their own?" The commander laughed, however, just as she was about to do the same, he gave her an odd look. "We heard reports about you defending those people from the Risen. Didn't you have someone with you?"
"Um..." She felt her body begin to shake as all three warriors stared at her, a mixture of gazes sweeping over her fragile form. "It was the Plegians." The words were a glimmering whisper, only audible due to the lack of noise from anywhere else.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"It's my fault. I couldn't save him."
"No. We all lose people close to us. Do not blame yourself!"
"But I-" She sighed, laughing slightly. "I suppose." Looking around her, she swallowed slightly, a strange feeling shivering down her throat. "Do-do you know where the Shepherds are?"
"Of course. We're no more than five days' march from them." The Feroxian looked up to the skies. "It is getting late. Will you stay the night with us?" Cordelia smiled, slightly hesitant, but still managing to contort her mouth into the right shape, nodding as she did so.
"Thank you."
"It's morning. Look alive, soldiers!" The ringing shouts of one of the Feroxians filled her dazed head, a constant shrill noise cascading around in the mess that was her mind. She blinked. The tent that surrounded her was a drab thing, but it suited its' purpose just fine. It had blocked out the sun for her, and she stretched, feeling that she'd almost had a decent night's sleep - not even the shadows of the prison stopped her from drifting off. "We've got a hard day's march in us yet!" Scrambling to ready herself, she emerged out of the tent a few minutes later with everything she needed; the Feroxians had loaned her some more supplies, which she had in pouches around her belt, in absence of saddle-bags. It weighed her down, but she could still move forwards with relative impunity. "You're Cordelia, aren't you?" The Feroxian glared at her as she walked up to him. "You'll be marching with our commander."
"Oh, um, yes." Trying to relax, she breathed out.
"Follow me." A hand wrapped around her arm, squeezing it tightly, and she winced, as she was taken across the camp, before being hauled, once again, in front of the Feroxian commander.
"Ah, good to see you, Cordelia. Are you ready to travel?"
"Y-Yes, commander."
"You do not have to be that formal with me. Only my men do!" He let out a laugh, as he turned to the other Feroxian, dismissing him with a nod. "Come. Once my men have been inspected, we shall be setting off."
"Of course."
"You seem ill at ease, my friend. Are you still plagued by your memories?"
"I-Yes."
"You'll never be able to save everyone if you live in the past."
"Yeah." Cordelia sighed, her heart tightening.
"You'll feel better once we reach the Shepherds."
It was no more than half an hour before the marching began. At first, Cordelia could feel a lightness in her belly, as she stayed by the commander's main force, surrounded on all sides by a seemingly unbreakable rank of elites, their perfectly-formed movements bringing to mind the formations of the pegasi knights back in Ylisse. She tried to hide among them, hoping that she would be concealed among the legions of soldiers, even with her identifiable red hair. However, the farce was swiftly ended when one of the commander's elite found her, and requested her presence. Resigning herself to being at the front of the army, she tried not to let her nerves show, instead glancing around at the sea of desert in front of her. How long would it be before she was returned to the Shepherds? There was an acid taste in the back of her mouth, which she swallowed down. Locking up as many horrific thoughts as she could, she soldiered onwards, keeping an eye out for shapes shifting around in the sands.
The third day brought Plegians. Cordelia was not the first to see them on the horizon - that honour went to one of the Feroxian scouts that had to be about half a day ahead of the main army. But she was there when the news came.
"Commander! Beg pardon, sir, but we have enemy contact ahead. We won't be able to sneak past them."
"Numbers?"
"No more than a hundred. No less than twenty."
"Rally the troops. We'll prepare for combat here, and let them come to us. Cordelia, can you fight?"
"I'll fight those Plegian bastards." Grabbing her lance, she gave a grim smile. The commander laughed at that, before grabbing a large steel axe that was sheathed by his side, concealed somewhat, although still visible. Pulling it out, he wielded it in one hand, as if its' weight were no more than paper to him.
"Well then. We shall let them come to us. Prepare yourselves, men."
As Cordelia watched the figures move towards her, she felt a rising surge of adrenaline build up in her chest, as she stood in line with the rest of the Feroxian advance guard. The few minutes it took for the Plegians to close the gap stretched on for what seemed like hours to her, each breath a minute long effort, the tension on the air slowing time down to a crawl. Watching as the sands were disturbed, grains of yellow flicked everywhere, she waited until the Plegians were in range. Suddenly, a stream of activity exploded around her, as the Feroxian war machine stepped forwards, lances meeting flesh as screams yelled out. Vigour in each of her strikes, she lashed out, her spear seeking targets, as she ducked and wove to avoid her foes. Though the sands underneath her were shifting, constantly threatening to knock her off her balance, she managed to stay safe, keeping her footing as she murdered more Plegians, their gurgling cries escaping into the desert sky. Blood sprayed with her strikes, splashing up and around her; however, this was of no consequence to her, her mind too focused on the fight to care about such trivialities. After about three or four minutes of this, of relative safety where the Feroxians to either side of her were protecting her flank, Cordelia had settled into a battle rhythm, as if the fight was a bloody tango where her partners kept changing; however, the repetitive dance moves were shaken up, as an arrow flew towards her. Moving her head to the side, she avoided death, but there was a cry from elsewhere.
"Men! Advance on those archers!" As Cordelia glanced around, seeing the Feroxians break rank, she started rushing forwards, her legs scrabbling through the sand. It was difficult work, and she nearly slipped several times, but despite the hail of arrows flying at her face, she made it almost no worse for wear, save one wound where a shot had skimmed her skin. A gaze of fire causing her foes to step back, she wasted no time in stabbing into the archers, and as some joined her in hand-to-hand combat, wielding short daggers, she turned on them, her lance repeatedly thrusting into her foes, dropping bodies before her again and again. Her brutal assault left her open, and arrows struck her; although most of them bounced harmlessly off her armour, being quite badly-made, a few tore skin from her, causing her to wince as her pain fuelled another attack. The rest of the army joining her now, it wasn't long before all of the Plegians had been slain, their blood seeping down into the floor, dyeing it an almost pretty crimson.
"Cordelia, you fought like a demon!" The Feroxian commander laughed. "Well done." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't like to embarrass my men, but they're in awe of you."
"Well, I... um..." She laughed nervously.
"Don't look so scared! You've done well, and I can certainly see why they let you be a Shepherd!"
"Yeah..."
"Come on. Don't be shy." She gripped his hand, shaking it as she faked a smile, laughing in synchronisation with him. "Does it not feel good? Triumph in battle?"
"It..." A sigh escaped her lips. "Yeah, I guess it does."
"The Plegian army will soon be routed at this rate."
"Yeah, they will."
Cordelia lay awake beneath the black canvas of stars, her eyes seemingly transfixed by the pattern of constellations above. In truth, her mind was active in her memories, reliving the events of the day over and over again. She had fought like a demon. Glancing down at her blood-stained armour, which she had not yet cleaned, she sighed, a tear dropping from her face. She shook slightly. Gulping for breath, she looked at the lance that she'd stored next to her. There was no tent for her to sleep in this day - instead, she'd been resting without protection, her body sheltered only by her plate. As such, her weapons were within touching distance. Her spear, like her, was bloodied. She sighed. Turning to her side, her gaze sweeping across the endless sandy ocean, she closed her eyes, trying to shut off her stream of consciousness.
Eventually, the next day came, and although she'd only just fallen asleep, Cordelia was woken up by a din of shouting, her eyes stirring as she forced herself upright. Her body hurt, throbbing painfully from the previous day, and she found it difficult to move. Stretching out, she winced slightly, stumbling around as she looked for the Feroxian commander. Mercifully, it didn't take her long to find him.
"I'm here, sir." She spoke awkwardly, prompting yet another laugh.
"You looked tired, Cordelia. And have you forgotten what I said about formality?"
"I'm sorry." He sighed, shaking his head, still a jovial expression on his face.
"Come on. Can you march today?" She nodded. "Good."
There were no more encounters with enemy forces for the rest of the journey, despite the Feroxians pressing deeper into the heart of the desert. This did not upset Cordelia, who spent each day glancing around, praying that she would not have to use her fighting abilities again. Walking with the commander's convoy, she could not see the glances of those behind her, and the expressions of those she was with gave nothing away, but she still wondered about what he had said to her. Her brain went through all possibilities of what that might have meant, and she almost felt like shivering. Again and again through the journey, her fists clenched involuntarily, as sometimes she had to switch off her thoughts immediately, just to stop the pain - whenever she reminisced, she remembered everything. And the more she thought about reuniting with the Shepherds once again, the more her stomach twisted and turned, as if doing aerobatics in her body. Here was simple.
"We'll be there by the end of today." The Feroxian commander informed Cordelia as she rose for a new day, forcing herself away from her nightmares. She'd gained a small measure of sleep that night, but it wasn't long before a sweeping horde of violent dreams tore at her, scratching and biting, particularly ill-tempered children lashing out against whatever authority they could. She'd managed to stifle her screaming, keeping her fears tucked safely away where only she could scream at them, but that effort had been too much to allow her much more rest. Her eyes were baggy, and she felt them threaten to slip away from her.
"Good. Thank you."
"It's no problem. Besides, you're the one you'll prove our intentions!"
"Yeah." She smiled, laughing slightly. Looking ahead, she swallowed slightly. Revealing what had happened to the Shepherds was something she wasn't enjoying the prospect of, but it seemed that day of reckoning was about to happen.