A Quick Review Of Last Chapter:
Heck, you know what? I doubt anyone reads these, so this time, I'm not going to do it! Hah!
Serra: Taylor, it's your job. Do the review.
IceBlade28: Oh come on, Serra. Just because you're my muse doesn't mean you get to boss me around. In fact, shouldn't it be the other way around? It should, shouldn't it?
Serra: Um . . . no? But you still have to do the review, or I'll hit you with my stone.
IceBlade28: Fine, fine. Here we go.
Back in Chapter X, after Serra asked awkward questions and the author shut her up-
Serra: Hey!
IceBlade28: Shut up.
The fic finally began. Lucius the monk was recuperating in the healer's tent, examining the stump of his right arm. (His right arm was destroyed by dark magic when he had been hit with a Flux spell in Chapter VII.) Serra and Erk ducked into the healer's tent, where the spare magic tomes were kept; Merlinus had no spare room in his wagon for a lot of books, and so they were kept in the infirmary. Lucius teased Serra gently about bursting in, pink-faced, breathless, and holding a mage's hand.
Serra countered with the fact that she had seen him with his shirt off. When the monk saw the expression on Erk's face, he tried to explain that Serra thought he was a woman. By now Erk was just creeped out, and he left hurriedly.
Meanwhile, on the Davros, Matthew was the sole uncaptured person remaining. He planned to pick the mutineers off one by one, and he reflected on the irony of the situation. During this time, two of the mutineers were slain on one of Flaefir's whims. The Swordmaster lectured his crew, before placing a large bounty on Matthew's life. Matthew attempted to sneak away, and had a close call with the mutineer captain; were it not for the Dread Isle's typical fog, Matthew would have died.
Rebecca finally 'came to her senses' and ditched Sain after he accidentally let a perverted comment slip. Looking for an outlet for his frustration, Sain attacked the nearest mercenary, not realising it was Raven.
Raven defeated Sain, and was about to willingly slay himwhen Rebecca showed up, with news that Eliwood, Lyn and Hector had located Uhai and had called for reinforcements.
X eventually came to in the depths of the Dragon's Gate, to stare into a levitating fireball. It was Ephidel, using the magical fire as a light source. X recalled how he got in his position- he was hit by an Elfire spell, which sent him into unconsciousness. (Just in case you guys and girls couldn't remember either.) The assassin attempted to provoke the morph; in retrospect, not the smartest move, but it had a hidden bonus. Ephidel surprisingly began to rant, and his yearning to be truly human was revealed.
Nergal's henchman then left Jaffar to what he did best, lighting a small torch. The Angel of Death obliged.
Florina was being wingman- sorry. Florina was being wingperson to Fiora, when the youngest of the two fell asleep in the saddle. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she had another premonition, this one featuring Uhai.
Serra: And for once, you changed the opening description of the dream.
IceBlade28: Oh sue me.
Anyway, Uhai killed her, as always, though this time Florina felt a different kind of pain. Not the typical dream-induced pain through the lava, but pain in her actual body, outside the dreamworld. Then came the section where Florina glimpsed the future. An arrow would shoot out of the trees, killing Fiora's Pegasus. Fiora would later die in the fall, unless something could be done. During this time, the pain in Florina's chest was increasing. Meanwhile, Fiora had noticed her sleeping sister, and had ridden back to wake her up. Florina did wake up, and jerked on Fiora's reigns. Her sister did an awkward and dangerous manouevre, but the arrow did miss.
By now Fiora's suspicion was flaring. Florina was displaying some unusual knowledge and behaviour. First the death of Fiora's sub-commander, Hanasu, and now the arrow?
Florina by now felt extremely tired, and the heart pains came rushing back. The pain became so great that she blacked out and slipped out of the shadow, falling through a cloud and was lost to sight.
Next, Erk defeated a monk with pathetic ease, tying him up and leaving him for the Lord's to be discovered. Priscilla was lost and alone, calling for Erk. The two met with a large bush in between, and accidentally held hands. Erk let go hurriedly and looked away, embarrassed. Priscilla just smiled sweetly. After delivering his given orders, Erk left. Priscilla ran after him, trying to get him to wait.
The mage was forced to admit that loving her would jeopardise his duty to protect her, and in doing so, put her in danger too. Erk walked ahead, and Priscilla stayed silent, though they both had tears in their eyes.
Hector and the Lord's embarked in a vicious battle with Uhai. Hector was shot twice with arrows from a Steel bow, and only his thick armour saved his life. During this time, Lyn was charging towards the Nomad Trooper and tackled him neatly off of his horse. As they were in the air, Kent launched a javelin and it plunged deep into Uhai's side. He went rolling, and Lyn landed hard, cracking one or more of her ribs. In retaliation to the javelin, Uhai threw a curved dagger at Kent. It struck him high on the shoulder and brought the cavalier to the ground.
Lyn, in anger, unsheathed her Mani Katti and carved a deep gash across Uhai's chest. While not fatal, it bled heavily and brought him to his knees, gasping and coughing blood. In a final move, he grabbed a double-bladed knife and stabbed it into Lyn's thigh. Lyn buckled, and Eliwood arrived to save her life. The Pheraen didn't waste time, and stabbed Uhai straight through the chest with his razor-edged Rapier.
In his dying moments, Uhai revealed the path to the Dragon's Gate.
At the end of the chapter, Florina reflected on her own mortality, and on the physical toll the premonitions seemed to take on her body. She wondered whether it was possible to die from her dreams, when she caught bearing of her surroundings. The annoying fog was drifting in, and she was hopelessly lost in a dark and shady forest, when a wolf's howl split the night.
IceBlade28: And the summary of last chapter is done! Finally!
Serra: Well, at least you did it.
IceBlade28: Yeah, yeah. Actually, I had quite a decision to make. I wasn't sure whether to go on the side quest, or to go straight to the part where Eliwood etc. fight Lord Darin. I decided to do the side quest.
Serra: And this chapter had better have me in it a whole lot more than the last one!
IceBlade28: Maybe.
Serra: Maybe! Ooh, you know how to get someone angry at you!
IceBlade28: It happens a lot more than you'd think.
Serra: Really?
Iceblade28: Maybe.
Serra: You're so mean to me.
IceBlade28: True. Anyway, in your reviews, I need you to state whether to go onto 17xx/19xx or just to do this one part of side quest. It is vital you say whether to do the second part of the side quest. Just because I want to know how much I need to do.
Serra: Slacker.
Iceblade28: Yeah, sue me some more.
Serra: Are we starting the fic yet?
IceBlade28: BTW, someone will die in this chapter. Maybe more than one person.
Serra: It had better not be me! Is it?
IceBlade28: Maybe.
Serra: What! It had better not be-
Chapter XI: The Path Of The One Is Made By Many
"Well, Lyn, it's a good thing you have a healer of my expertise to make you better, huh?" Serra chirped. Lyn rolled her eyes. Her ribs had been cracked, her leg had almost permanently been injured . . . she'd definitely been in better shape, that much was true. Lyn had been in the tent for what seemed like forever with a self-obsessed, loud-mouthed cleric with a Heal staff. In reality, it had only been a few hours, and night had already fallen.
Heck, in Lyn's opinion, any time with Serra seemed like an eternity. Many others in the army shared her unspoken belief.
"So, does your leg hurt any more?" the cleric asked smugly. Lyn flexed the muscle, and bent it slightly. The pain came flooding back, and Lyn gasped before flopping back onto the bed.
"I don't understand." Serra pouted. "My staff and my professional skills should have healed it. I even gave you my whole stock of pain-killing medicine; the ointment I made myself! It doesn't make any sense, and I don't like it when things don't make sense!" she squealed. Lyn winced. It was bad enough that Uhai's dagger had screwed up her leg, but her cracked ribs hadn't been healed yet either. And Serra's voice was at the exact level to annoy a dog, much less a human.
"Anyway, let's move on. You're ribs are cracked?" Lyn nodded, staring up at the tent roof. Serra placed her usual Heal staff in the holding rack and took out a much more ornate Mend stave.
"I just learned how to use this. Aren't you lucky?" she said. Lyn groaned softly; torture was preferrable to this. At least Serra wasn't using her infamous home-cooked medicines . . .
"Actually, I have another little remedy that should take away some of your pain. I made it myself; tested it on Sain when he had a sprained ankle." she said devilishly. Another excuse to try out home-made medicine.
"Serra, just fix my ribs. Don't give me any more medicine, just use the blasted staff!" Lyn said grumpily. She had been lying down in the healer's tent for a good couple of hours, listening to this pink-haired she-devil prattle on. All Lyn wanted was to get her ribs and leg mended and get out of there.
"Well, you don't have to shout!" Serra pouted. "Take your robe off." Lyn did a double-take. "Take what!" The cleric sighed irritably.
"If you don't take off your robe, I can't get directly to the wound to heal it! Honestly, Lady Lyn- I thought you knew that already!" Serra barked. Lyn sighed in resignation, and removed her Sacaen garb, careful not to let the tough material brush against her wound.
"C'mon, Lady Lyn! Hurry up!" Serra whined. "It's not like you have anything I haven't got!" she quipped cheekily. Lyn looked at her healer, shocked. Serra winked and grinned.
"So, are you going to finish taking your clothes off, or should I?" Serra said loudly. Lyn shot the rambunctious cleric a look of loathing, before pulling her ponytail through the collar and tossing her robe aside. The cleric raised an eyebrow at Lyn, clad only in her lingerie.
"Wow, Lyn." Serra said, stuck for words. Her former employer was certainly an eye-catcher. There was definitely muscles under the soft skin, and her curves were accentuated by the bright sheen of the white bedsheets.
Lyn is almost as pretty as I am, Serra thought. Almost. Her skin was tanned from growing up in the plains, except for the spot where her ribs had cracked.
"I can see why Sain hangs around you." Serra commented. Lyn rolled her eyes at Serra, who's sapphire-blue eyes were travelling up and down her body.
"Fine, you got me in my underwear. Hurry up and do your job." she said. Serra smiled again.
"I dunno, Lyn. I got the feeling you enjoyed being in your underwear with me." she said impudently. There were no words with the look Serra got; there did not need to be.
"Do your job . . . now . . ." Lyn snarled. She was sore, exhausted, hungry, and testy. She did not need a blabbermouth poking fun at her condition. Lyn wanted to be healed, and to get out of the infernal tent. Now.
Serra waved the Mend staff slowly over the injury, watching carefully in case something didn't heal the right way. All Lyn felt was a soft, smooth feeling that spread from the point of contact to the tips of her fingers. It felt wonderful. Eventually, the feeling subsided, along with the magic glow that lit up the tent.
"Okay, you should be fine to go. Just take it easy for a few days, Lady Lyn." Serra said respectfully. The Sacaen woman nodded, struggling up to her knees.
"Let me help you! You shouldn't strain yourself!" the cleric said, rushing to Lyn's side. The Sacaen woman waved her away angrily, only to lose her balance and land hard on the tent floor, sending waves of pain through her leg and through her side.
"Lyn!" Serra said, biting her lip. Although, to be truthful, she was more worried about how badly she would be punished than her previous employer's condition-
When the tent flap was pushed open, and a cavalier entered.
"Excuse me, Lady Serra." Kent said, shutting the tent flap after him. "I know you're busy with Lady Lyndis, but I was wondering where the spare vulneraries are kept? There are a number of minor wounds on several of our members which need to be healed, and-"
It was then that Kent caught sight of his employer. Lyn was hitched up on her elbows, lying on the tent floor. Her teal-coloured ponytail was half-over her shoulder, divided in two. The hair on the front draped thankfully over Lyn's bust, but there she was still embarrassingly exposed.
Kent's eyes flickered over Lyn in her underwear before he turned hurriedly away, blushing furiously. Lyn gave a small cry and hurriedly covered herself up with her Sacaen robe, also blushing.
"U-Um, Lady Lyndis, forgive me . . ." Kent mumbled. "I wasn't aware, and I . . ." In front of him, his hands fumbled with the zip for the tent front. "I-I'm so sorry, Milady . . . It was an accident . . . I didn't mean-"
Struggling painfully upright, Lyn smiled at the stammering cavalier, who was still mumbling apologies and fiddling with the tent zip. Serra handed Lyn's robe to her, and smiled sweetly. Lyn hurriedly put it on, redoing the clasps on the back.
Kent was still trying to open the darned zip when he felt a calming hand on his shoulder. He turned awkwardly around to see Lyn standing behind him, smiling gently.
"It doesn't matter." she whispered. "But . . ." Kent bit his lip, looking down at his employer. Lyn kept smiling, and took his hand and placed it on her chest. Kent winced slightly, his eyes panicking.
"My heart beats for you, and only you." Lyn said, in a barely audible voice. Kent flushed red again, and Lyn allowed him to remove his hand. She grinned suddenly, and Kent was forcibly reminded of Serra, who was standing behind them, no doubt trying to memorise every detail for gossip.
"Besides," Lyn said, barely able to keep laughter from her voice. "This way, you can tell Sain you've seen me in my underclothes. Or at least something of the sort." Kent's eyebrows shot up.
"Feel free to hold it over him. He's been trying to see me changing for months." she said, adding a sisterly wink. The cavalier was still trying to find the blasted tent zipper behind his back. Finally, he got hold of the thing and gave it an experimental tug. The tent flap opened smoothly.
"Milady, I'm not sure if that's proper . . ." he said awkwardly.
"He deserves it." Lyn said firmly, pushing past the cavalier and exiting the tent. To Kent's dismay, the Sacaen took a few wobbly steps before her leg collapsed from underneath her.
"Milady Lyndis!" Kent cried, rushing to her aid. He picked her up in one quick movement, and Lyn placed her arms around his neck for support.
"Kent, I can walk! Put me down!" Lyn said in a mock angry voice. Kent shook his head, his mind a complete blur.
"Lady Lyndis, I don't know what was going on in there, but you are barely fit to stand, let alone walk to your tent or fight." he said. His attitude was completely business-like, and Lyn put forth a pouting lip.
"Kent, if we're going to date, you need to stop being so business like!" she complained. Kent looked at her funnily. His liege was acting completely out of character. He would have to talk to Serra about this as soon as he dropped Lyn off at her tent.
"Besides, I know you enjoyed seeing me like that." she teased. "When we get to my tent, I could go a little further . . ." she said dreamily. Kent gave his liege a shocked look. What in Elimine's name was going on! Kent broke into a run. The sooner he got his Lady to her tent, the better. Hopefully Lyn would go straight to sleep. If she followed him . . . well, the way the cavalier was feeling, knocking her out and tying her to the bed didn't exactly sound uncharitable.
Kent opened the zipper quickly, ran inside and gently lay Lyn down on the bed.
"Please, just go to sleep." he begged her. Lyn was, however, already out cold. Kent sighed with relief, closing the flap to the tent. This whole mess would be sorted out in the morning.
"Goodnight, Lady Lyndis." Kent whispered, before zipping the tent shut and breaking into a sprint back to the camp.
Meanwhile, Serra was fiddling with the gemstone in her hair and trying to figure out how to pass on the gossip without having it become a major subject of debate. Her fingers ran over the stone's surface, and she frowned. There was a small irregularity, like a bit of the stone had been chipped away. The cleric pouted. If a chunk of the jade stone was missing, it would make selling it much harder.
-----
Matthew placed a hand on his dagger, leaning against the curved wall of the crow's nest. In his other hand, he was turning and admiring the dagger he had found up there. It was X's, from when he had used this oversized wooden bowl as a hide-out. Matthew really was taking after X in this mission.
And why shouldn't I? he thought. After all, I've got a good role model to follow . . . but what are his intentions? He's had the chance to kill about five people, six including the late Tactician, but he's only actually killed Kaira . . . although, he probably meant to kill Guy when we were in Caelin. What is he trying to do?
Matthew turned the dagger around, examining the hilt. It was curved slightly, and dark green. A small gem was set into the bottom of the hilt, camouflaged by the dark colour of the hilt. Matthew squinted at the gem, trying to catch it in the light.
It was jade. A tiny sliver of a jade stone. Two slivers, on closer examination. They crossed over, and formed a tiny 'X'.
Matthew shrugged, and sheathed the dagger. At least he had a better weapon than the tiny stiletto blade tucked away in his shirt.
The thief rose to his knees and peered over the rim of the crow's nest. It was now completely night, and the fog had seeped in from the Dread Isle for the second time. However, a thin light shone through the fog beneath.
Flaefir's cabin, Matthew thought. Or the place where Dart and Fargus are being held. Possibly both.
Matthew crept down the rope ladder as quietly as he could, slipping through the fog and touching briefly down on deck. Both the sentries were at the bowsprit of the ship, whereas Matthew and (hopefully) Dart and Fargus were at the stern, near the cabins and the helm.
The Ostian disappeared into the mist. He was a spy. He had skills, and it was time to use them. All of them.
-----
Fiora was drifting around in the sky, her face etched with worry and anxiety. She pulled the reigns left, then right, then left again. Her Pegasus snorted crossly; he could tell his rider didn't know which way to go. Fiora bit her lip and tried to smile, reaching down to pat her Pegasus.
"There, there. I know I'm being frustrating." Fiora whispered fondly. She rubbed his mane a bit, but it couldn't remove the feeling of abject failure. An unwanted tear dropped from her eye and was lost in the wind from her mount's wings. She had failed so badly. Hanasu, her entire Squadron, and now her youngest sister. They were all gone.
But Florina might not be dead! shouted her hopeful side. Fiora was surprised that she still had a hopeful side.
Do you really think I'll find Florina in a forest this big, with thick fog! I've failed . . .
If you keep thinking like that, you truly will have failed. Your sister has not been condemned to death, Fiora! Find her!
I'll get help first.
Fine.
Fiora yanked hard on the reigns and flew quickly back to camp. Lady Lyndis would be sympathetic; Florina was one of Lyn's best friends.
And if no-one helped her, then Fiora would go alone.
-----
Away from the main group of soldiers was a mercenary. He was sharpening his sword with a whetstone, his face blank. The identity of this man was revealed only to those who knew him, as his face was lit up by the brief cascades of sparks that cut through the night. He had made his own fire, but he sat away from it, his face shrouded in darkness.
Rebecca walked slowly towards the mercenary, trying to figure out her words. True, she hadn't been very nice to Raven lately . . . but the last time had been an accident! And she had been angry, and hurt, and she hadn't meant half the things she said!
The Pheraen paused as she recalled his words to her in their last meeting.
"There is a reason . . ." he said hesitantly, as though the words were newly learnt. " . . . why . . . I'm this way. But such things are not to be discussed on the battlefield. The Lord's require us. We must go."
Rebecca remembered how he had reacted when she tried to show him the sunset from the Davros . . . he had said something about his parents.
The green-haired girl shook her head. It didn't matter. Rebecca wanted to be friends with him . . or maybe more than friends. It wasn't like he was bad-looking, after all. But he could be so cold. Rebecca crept slowly up behind the mercenary, who was still sharpening his sword.
"I don't want to talk now, Rebecca." Raven said simply. The archeress froze. How on earth did he know she was there? She had used all of her skill; not even a rabbit would have sensed her.
"If you're wondering how I knew you were there . . ." Raven smirked, admiring the shiny sword. "I could see you in the reflection of my sword. And you transferred the weight to your right foot when you went to step over something; it puts you off balance. You stood on a leaf."
Rebecca sighed quietly, and walked over to Raven, sitting on a log. The mercenary didn't move, but continued to sharpen his broadsword.
"Are you just going to sit there, or did you come for a reason?" he asked quietly. Rebecca looked at him sadly. Raven slowed his sharpening, finally pocketing the whetstone and staring back at the girl.
"Rebecca, are you okay?" he asked suddenly. "Why are you-" Raven paused, as he saw a glistening tear slip down her cheek. Rebecca was hating herself. She was going to pieces already, and she hadn't said a word!
"I didn't mean any of the things I said!" she sobbed. "I was hurt, and . . ." Raven felt completely out of place. He hadn't asked for this girl to come to him and start crying; even worse was that it was his fault. Awkwardly, he knelt next to Rebecca and gave her a pat on the back.
He didn't expect her to lean forward and hold him tight, crying into his shoulder. He stiffened, and gave her another hesitant pat on the back.
"You're freezing." Rebecca said suddenly, pulling away from him. "Aren't you cold?" Raven looked down.
"Not really. I don't notice it." he said quietly. Rebecca was staring at him oddly again. Raven was getting perturbed. He wasn't used to all this; love, friendship, other's sorrow. The only pain he could relate to was his own, and occasionally his sister Priscilla's.
"Back when we met, in the battle . . . you said something to me." Rebecca mentioned quietly. "You told me there was a reason why you were . . . why you were so heartless." Raven looked up sharply.
"You don't get tired of calling me names, do you?" he asked her. Rebecca shook her head hard.
"No! Raven! I don't mean to do it! It's-" Raven had lost all patience.
"Then what is it!" he thundered. "You like me, you hate me, you come crying to me, you insult me, can't you make up your mind!" he shouted. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore Rebecca stifled sobs.
"I'm trying . . ." he whispered. The archeress looked up. Raven didn't meet her gaze, instead staring at the ground.
"Ever since . . . ever since my parents died, I've just learnt to shut things out. Back then, emotions were just things that got in the way. They made the pain worse, and so I stopped using them." The Pheraen was listening intently, the firelight flickering over the tracks that the tears had made.
"Since I met you, I've tried to bring back my emotions, but keep the pain sealed away." Raven explained. "It's been hard . . . I want things that never I should have wanted, but . . . I . . ." Rebecca smiled sadly.
"Raven, I really like you." she said. "I want to help you . . ." Raven shook his head, his auburn hair flying around.
"Rebecca. Don't say that, please." Raven pleaded. "Please, don't say you love me." Rebecca looked at the man she cared for, and her heart froze.
"Why?"
"Because . . ." Raven lowered his head. This was one of the hardest things he would have to say.
"Rebecca, you're still a child . . . and I don't know if I can love you back." he murmured. Immediately, he hated himself for it. Doubtless he had broken her heart, and wasted the one chance he had of finding love himself.
Rebecca stared at him, and Raven could see the hurt in her eyes.
"Rebecca, it hurts me to say this as much as it hurts-" Raven began, but Rebecca had already fled, weeping, away from the fire.
Raven hung his head in shame, and went back to the mindless chore of sharpening his sword. The words of his friend Lucius echoed in his head, around and around.
Raven, take care not to make women weep, for Elimine counts their tears.
-----
Florina bit her lip, pulling herself painfully upright. The grove of trees was brighter than when she had first gone to sleep, but the pangs from her chest had woken her up. Surprisingly, she hadn't had another premonition, a fact which the young girl relished. Florina hated those dreams.
The Pegasus Knight looked around her, scared. There was only tall, foreboding trees, which cast strange shadows on the ground and played tricks with her mind. Florina winced, and her breath came in short gasps. Her chest really hurt; could those dreams be having an affect on her health?
The Ilian took a deep, unsteady breath. Be calm, Florina. Those dreams you have can predict the future. But this time, you changed what happened. If they're powerful enough to do that, maybe you can use them to get you back to camp.
But . . . what if they don't?
If they don't, then you're still stuck here. But what have you got to lose?
What if my heart . . . what if the pain comes back? What if this time it gets worse?
Worse than last time? Well . . . are you willing to take the chance?
Florina's thoughts were sent flying when a wolf's howl split the night. The young girl stiffened, looking around her with large, frightened eyes. There was no sign of wolves, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief.
Until a twig snapped.
Florina's gaze shot over to the source of the sound, her heart racing. There, poking slightly through the thick bush, was the scruffy fur of a wolf's head. The head was attached to a body, which slowly trotted out into the clearing.
Florina was standing completely motionless, trying not to cry. The wolf loped slowly out into the clearing, sniffing things and pawing the dirt. The Ilian was trembling, but trying to stay still. Not that it was working.
The wolf walked slowly closer to Florina, who was visibly shaking. The young girl thought she might pass out soon, but she didn't dare; she would be completely at the mercy of a vicious wolf. Bright lights exploded in Florina's vision, despite the dim light.
The wolf moved even closer to the Pegasus Knight, and it was now so close that Florina, or at least a much, much braver version of Florina could reach out with no difficulty and pat it.
The wolf finally noticed Florina, and trotted happily over to see what this new creature was. It was tall, and it was lavender and white, and it was shaking. The wolf sniffed it curiously.
Florina just lost it. Her vision swam, and her breath came in short gasps. In a matter of seconds, she would faint. The wolf looked at her curiously, before rubbing it's whiskers happily against her leg and trotting away.
The Pegasus Knight fainted on the spot.
Within her mind, the usual dream sequence played out. The mountain hall was massive, with small jets of fire spurting from the ground and bright pools of magma seething and churning.
Florina twirled her Slim lance experimentally, then held it tight. We'll see about anyone who tries to get me, she said in her mind. It sounded a lot braver than she felt. Although, each dream ended only when she fell into the lava, so maybe . . .
It was an awful lot to risk on such a wild theory.
Florina stared into the pool of liquid fire, shielding her eyes. If it could get her out of the dreams . . .
She took a deep breath and dropped into the fiery abyss.
-----
Fiora tied her Pegasus' reigns hurriedly to a post and ran through the camp, looking for one of the sole people she knew would be sympathetic to her plight: Lord Eliwood of Pherae. He was her commander, after all.
The Pegasus Knight skidded to a halt by a large group of men.
"Pardon me," she said breathlessly. "Could any of you-" She was interrupted, however, by a green-armoured cavalier, who ran a hand smoothly through his hair and quickly strode over to her.
Fiora looked at him in confusion.
"In all my days, I have never seen such a maiden!" Sain proclaimed boldly, holding her hand delicately. "Truly, my lady, you are beauty contained within a human form!"
Fiora withdrew her hand promptly, ignoring him. He was just a lovesick, hopeless cavalier. She looked at the remainder of the group: a cavalier with red hair and a stern expression at his friend's antics, an archer who was busy dressing a large wound that stretched the length of his arm, a myrmidon who was sheepishly retying his braid, and a green-eyed troubadour, who was looking at the Sacaen with a sorrowful look in her eye.
"Could any of you direct me to Lord Eliwood?" she asked, fighting down the panic. Her youngest sister was alone in the woods, for Elimine's sake! The red-armoured cavalier stood up.
"I apologise for my friend's antics." he said sourly. "You must be new, my lady. My name is Kent; I'm not under Lord Eliwood's rule, but I know where he is." Fiora looked at the man with gratitude. He gestured to follow him, and began walking away from the fire. The Ilian followed him quickly.
"My thanks, Sir Kent." Fiora said. "Can you take me to him any faster? I'm afraid this is a matter of emergency." she added hesitantly. The cavalier looked at her strangely, and nodded.
"Tell me if I go too fast." he said, before breaking into a run. Fiora sprinted after him.
"I'm sorry if I'm forward, but can you tell me what the emergency is?" Kent asked calmly. Fiora gave him a strange look. He must be fit indeed if he could run at this pace and still talk as though nothing was happening.
"I-In a second," she gasped, skidding to a halt in front of a large tent. Kent knocked on the canvas; it somehow made a wooden sound.
"Come in." sounded a voice from inside. Kent ducked through the flap, closely followed by Fiora. The curious girl looked back at the flap to see a block of wood hanging from the zip.
Must be so you can be heard when you knock, she thought absentmindedly. Eliwood looked up from the table, which was covered with maps and small figures.
"Ah, you're one of Lyndis' men . . . Kent, correct?" asked Eliwood. He turned to Fiora, who was busy bowing. The young Lord put up his hand, wincing.
"That- That's not necessary. You don't need to bow to me; I consider every man and woman my equal." he said magnanimously. "So you're the young lady who joined during the battle? Fiora, right?" Eliwood said, frowning. Kent's ears perked up. Fiora? The name sounded familiar. Perhaps Florina had mentioned it at some point . . . or perhaps it was the name of a woman that Sain had mentioned sleeping with at some point. He couldn't remember.
"That's right, my Lord Eliwood." Fiora said, fidgeting. Staying cool under pressure was one of her best traits, but with Florina missing . . . it was extremely hard.
"Lord Eliwood, I beg your help." she blurted. Eliwood looked back up from his maps.
"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately concerned. Fiora turned her full attention to the blue-eyed boy in front of her.
"My Lord, during my expedition to the isle of Valor, I noticed my sister, Florina, had joined your army, and that you were engaged in comabt against the men I was trying to find and defeat. I was convinced to join your army, as you know." Eliwood nodded; that was a good sign. Fiora was already fighting back tears.
"My Lord, during the combat, my sister suffered some sort of chest pain, and she fell unconscious. She . . . she fell of her Pegasus, and I lost her in the clouds. She never returned to camp." Fiora said, her voice breaking. "I know she's still alive, but . . . I can't know for sure . . ." The Ilian wiped away the tears threatening to overflow from her eyes.
Kent was stunned. Florina was one of his friends. Sure, they'd never gotten along very well; Florina didn't get along with any male very well, that he knew of. But still . . .
Eliwood bit his lip. He didn't want to tell Fiora his decision; he wanted to help Florina, he really did! But he couldn't.
"Fiora, I'm sorry, but I can't help you. The battle today was trying, and many people are still injured. I just can't spare anyone." Fiora looked at the youth in shock.
"Lord Eliwood, please! If you do not help, you are as good as condemning her to death!" she shouted. Eliwood hung his head, his face pained.
"I'm sorry . . ." he said quietly. Fiora looked at him with disappointment and anger. Immediately, she turned to leave.
"Fiora, wait a second." Eliwood said, scribbling furiously on a spare piece of parchment. After a minute, he handed it to her.
"Show this to anyone who isn't severely injured." he said. "They'll help. Marcus should go, along with his protegé Lowen, and possibly Oswin, though I don't really have any power over him." Fiora looked at the youth again.
"Thank you." she said simply. Eliwood smiled slightly; the Pegasus Knight turned and ran.
Eliwood yawned hard, and followed them just outside of the tent. The Pheraen gazed at the mountains, rubbing his eyes.
That can't be right, he thought. It can't be dawn already! But it was true; shafts of pink and aureate were sliding over the horizon, casting a rather nice glow on their little campsite.
The Lord yawned hard and psyched himself up for the chore of waking the army. Eliwood smiled slightly. At least waking Serra up would be Hector's responsibilty.
-----
Hector shouldered his mighty Wolf Beil, looking around the camp. All over, people were slowly emerging from their tents, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Hector mentally checked off everyone under his command- although, that was only really Oswin, since Matthew was still on board the Davros. No Serra.
Hector didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.
The Ostian stomped towards the tent. Doubtless there was another massive battle ahead, and no-one would be missing out. Especially not Serra.
What with the tactician's death and all, they're battle tactics had changed somewhat. The tactician somehow had this incredible ability to predict which kind of units the enemy would use, and picked about half their army force. At first Hector had been extremely suspicious about this kind of fighting, but the tactician's style had gotten them out of quite a few sticky situations. Now, however, their army just charged in, all 'guns' blazing, and killed everything in sight. It was extremely risky, as the last battle had proved. Any staff user would have their work cut out for them.
Hector sighed. He enjoyed this kind of fighting, but it wouldn't be long before someone died. Possibly several someones.
If only he knew how right he would be.
Hector barged into the tent, throwing the flap wide open to shine light on Serra. The cleric, covered in pink sheets, groaned quietly and buried her face into a fluffy pink pillow. The Lord didn't know how she could stand those pillows.
"Serra, get up." Hector said. "We're moving out." The cleric didn't move, hoping Hector would just go away if she pretended she was asleep.
Hector shut the tent flap, gritting his teeth. Maybe this would wake her up . . . he went to the side of the tent and knelt down, feeling for the tent pegs.
Serra smiled under her sheets and snuggled back into her sheets. That was the solution to everything: just wait, pretend your asleep, and it goes away.
Hector smiled as he found the three tent pegs on one side of the tent, and pulled them out. He quickly pulled out every other tent peg that he could find.
Inside the tent, Serra frowned. The ceiling was sagging. She'd have to complain to Lord Hector about better a better tent for her to use. Maybe like his tent! The Lord's always got the better tents, she thought jealously. Maybe if she used her regal beauty, Lord Hector would give her his tent to use!
The Ostian lordling smiled at the unsecured tent and gave it a slight push. It promptly collapsed, leaving a struggling Serra inside a collapsed tent.
I left the flap open, Hector thought dismissively. It's not like she'll suffocate . . . but it should teach her a lesson.
Eliwood's voice came shotuing from the treeline.
"There's a valley- and the tree!" he shouted, running for Hector. The blue-haired boy looked at the Pheraen with concern.
"What?" he asked. Eliwood barely looked at him.
"The tree! The tree Uhai spoke of- I found it! Wake Lyndis, tell everyone to move it! We're almost at the Dragon's Gate!"
Hector nodded, and spread the word. In the short space of an hour, they had packed and entered the valley.
Except for Fiora, Kent, Lowen and Marcus- still searching for Florina, unaware that a mighty battle would erupt not more than a hundred metres from where they were standing.
-----
Matthew drew X's dagger quietly, creeping up behind a tough-looking myrmidon. This was one of the guards to the door of Flaefir's cabin, and hopefully the place where Fargus and Dart were being kept prisoner.
If they were still alive. If they were dead, the Ostian knew he'd be in serious trouble. He could not defeat this army and sail the Davros back to the Dread Isle on his lonesome.
Matthew inched his new dagger forward, his other hand readying the tiny stiletto blade. The spy tried to remember the biology lessons he'd had back in Ostia. If he wanted to hit the heart from behind, he needed to stab . . . there.
Matthew stuck the dagger deep into the myrmidon's back, his other hand shooting across his throat and cutting it deep with the stiletto. No sound was made.
The thief lowered the corpse to the ground, easing X's dagger out of it's back. Matthew wiped the blood on his red cloak, sheathing the dagger and removing a lockpick.
He paused. Was the door even locked?
Matthew turned the knob tentatively; the door swung open. The thief felt stupid, but he slipped inside, hiding in the shadows. He glanced swiftly around the room, before his gaze settled happily on a shape in the centre.
It was Dart! Bruised, beaten almost to a pulp, gagged and bound, but it was still Dart! Matthew crept over to the Pirate, his eyes looking right to left, right to left. He wouldn't put it past Flaefir to have placed a trap.
There appeared to be nothing, and so Matthew started to saw through the big man's ropes hurriedly, looking around.
"Dart! I've come to free-" The thief was cut off, however, by a fist crashing into his ribs, sweeping him aside and into a desk. X's dagger was thrown out of hid hands and into a corner, out of sight.
The Ostian looked up at his assailant. It was a Pirate; an ugly brute at that. But he was a large one, and muscles bulged from his arms.
"If'n I kills ye, Cap'n Flaefir'll gimme lotsa gold!" he jeered, moving in for the attack.
Dart struggled awake, peering through bleary eyes at the scene unfolding. Matthew dove to the left as the Pirate crashed down on the remains of Fargus' desk. He was weaponless, and by the way the thief was bent, hurt.
"Matthew!" Dart cried, struggling at his bonds. He looked down at the rope. It had been knotted tightly, but his young Ostian friend had obviously been sawing at them with a blade. They were half-cut, but would it be enough for Dart to break them? He pulled against them hard, watching small fibres break . . .
The thief grunted as his foe dived into him, knocking him back again and into a wall. Matthew looked up in pain, as the mutineer walked forwards and raised a spiked shoe above his head.
"Here's where I gets me pay!" he said triumphantly.
A pair of arms encircled the Pirate's neck, and Matthew winced as he heard the sound of a neck being broken.
The mutineer dropped to the ground, and Dart stood before him. His wrists had deep red welts where he had struggled agsint the thick ropes, but he was smiling as he helped a wheezing Matthew up.
The thief caught his breath and gave him a dirty look.
"It's about time!" Matthew said angrily. Dart just shook his head. A gleam of light caught Matthew's eye, and he strode over to pick up X's dagger. Dart, in the mean time, went to a chest near the remains of Fargus' desk and took out his two Steel axes.
"It's time I introduced these to Flaefir." he said, unable to keep the glee out of his voice. "How many mutineers left?" The spy had to think about it for a second.
"Six." he said, after a while. "Seven if you count Flaefir." Dart frowned.
"That's too many for us to handle." he said, twirling his axes angrily. "We'll have to free the Cap'n before we have a chance."
"I'm afraid you won't be freeing anyone." said a cold voice from the door. Matthew spun around to see Flaefir, along with the wiry archer and the other five of Flaefir's men. In his hands, Flaefir held his favourite Killing Edge.
"Take them." he said simply.
-----
Aion stood in the doorway of the fortress, reading one of his tomes absentmindedly. The worms would be here soon. In the confined quarters of the valley, his Thunder magic was devastating. They were bound to fall under his hand.
"Battle is a test," he mused. "And those with intelligence have a natural advantage." Whimsically, he snapped his fingers and sent a tiny bolt of electricity arcing through the air. It quickly targeted and fried a nearby dandelion.
Soon, a Knight came pounding up, breathing hard through his visor.
"Lord Aion, we have located the targets, and our closest scouts have engaged them in combat." he reported. Aion nodded confidently, gazing out over the landscape.
"Go. All units must attack them; leave no survivors." he commanded. The Knight saluted swiftly, and clanked back to his position.
Aion opened his best tome, with the title 'Bolting' inscribed on the leather cover in runic symbols. Time to have a little fun.
-----
Wil grunted as he sent a Steel arrow flying towards a Knight, praying for it to do something. The shaft punched through the armour, and Wil silently cheered. But while the Knight slowed, he did not stop coming. The Pheraen looked around desperately, hoping that there was someone skilled in close combat to intercept the Knight.
Wil fumbled with another arrow, trying to load it before the Knight reached him. Finally, he nocked the arrow and jerked up, before hesiating. The Knight had stopped, and was fiddling with his lance, raising it above his head.
Wil's eyes widened. That wasn't an Iron lance- that was a Javelin! The archer dived to the side, dropping his bow in his haste. The missile flew over his back, the wind ruffling his clothes.
The archer stood up, breathing a sigh of relief-
Before the head of a lance burst through his chest.
Wil blinked slowly, wavering on his feet. Behind him, the grinning Knight pulled the lance from out of his back, and Wil collapsed. No sound, no last goodbye's, no whispered plea's . . . nothing. He had been alive one minute and dead the next. The Knight smiled cruelly through his visor and left the archer to decay, striding for the next victim. A Hand Axe, thrown by Dorcas, fortunately cut short his rampage, and his life.
-----
Bartre roared with battle lust, his Iron axe banging against the thick armour of a Knight that was holding a powerful but cumbersome Steel lance in defense.
The Wild Axefighter was more than a bit perturbed that his 'mighty' axe was barely making a split in the armour. Bartre's foe attempted a weak thrust, but the weapon he carried was just too heavy. The Pheraen jumped to the side and gleefully cut through the wooden shaft in one mighty sweep. The Knight stumbled back, thrown off balance. Bartre crouched and picked up the razor tip of the lance, grinning like a loon at the plan he had formulated.
The Wild Axefighter leapt in the air and grabbed the brim of the Knight's breastplate, planting his feet against his chest to balance himself. With his spare hand, he shoved the lancehead through the visor gap, and almost out the other side. The Knight fell backwards, and Bartre 'rode' him all the way to the ground.
Dorcas looked at his friend with apprehension. Bartre only laughed and beckoned.
"Dorcas! Come! There are more of the foe- if you want your share, you'd better hurry! For I am Bartre the Brave, fiercest axefighter Elibe has ever known!" he roared. Dorcas only shook his head and ran after the laughing man, confirming to himself that Bartre's sanity was no longer in question, simply because he had no sanity to question.
High on the hill, Dorcas' keen eyes spotted a Sage, standing in a portcullis. The sky overhead grew dark, and bolts of lightning coursed around Dorcas, forming a large, crackling circle.
The Fighter was trapped, and he looked to the sky for the killing stroke he knew he could not escape.
It came, and knocked Dorcas flat, scorching his flesh and driving him deep into the ground.
The Fighter coughed soot, and stared at the rapidly-clearing sky. He could feel his life slipping away, and a hot tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
"Natalie," he whispered. "I will not see you . . . again . . ."
And he breathed his last, with the tear exposing a tiny streak of skin as it slipped down his cheek and dropped into the dirt.
-----
Florina was suspended in the blurry sphere, and she looked around with worry. This was always where the premonitions occured, but something was different. The sphere had colour. It was tinged with colour before, but this time it was shining brightly. And the colours seemed . . . violent. They were rushing around, and the wind was roaring in her ears again. The colours shone brighter, until the light encompassed Florina.
The Ilian bit her lip. She had screwed something up. She wasn't supposed to have jumped in the lava; and now she would pay the price.
Florina started to cry, and the colours seemed to go through her. She was shaking hard, as the light forced it's way inside her and around her body, coursing through her veins where once flowed blood.
It didn't actually feel that bad, until the young girl looked at her hand. The veins were exposed, and pulsing with this new substance.
Florina screamed, and her heart seemed to speed up tenfold. The pain in her chest was coming back, and the light was shining through her open mouth with all the intensity and power of the sun.
The Pegasus Knight felt herself being changed, stretched, molded into something else. Almost as though she was becoming something more . . .
And with a burst of light, she appeared on the battlefield.
-----
Guy held his Killing Edge in both hands, looking around him angrily. The tables had turned, and the line of Knights was being beaten back, mainly by Lord Hector and the cavaliers under various Houses' rules.
The wind increased suddenly, and Guy's braid was flapping about behind him. He looked up to see four Pegasus Knights swoop over the mountain range and dive towards him, their Steel lances held aloft.
Guy cursed, readying his sword. No way could he take on four Pegasus Knights! He prayed for help, watching them come. Their riders were now clearly visible, all females of course.
Suddenly, two of the Pegasi were shot down! They fell, whinnying, to the jagged rocky plateau below them. Arrows were sticking out of their belly's. A third one flew sharply to the side and kept flying, obvously intent on staying out of range of the archers.
That left only one, who had her eye on this green-haired myrmidon with a Killing Edge. Guy felt more confident, but still had to supress the feeling of fear tightening around his gut. Only one lance-user. He could take her. He could take her.
"Priscilla!" he shouted, hoping she could hear her. He would almost definitely need healing after this.
The rider swooped in to attack, her Steel lance thrusting hard at his head. The Sacaen ducked it narrowly, grabbing onto the shaft with his left hand. He had planned to pull the rider off her mount and finish her that way-
Not let the Pegasus take off!
The rider looked at him angrily, shaking her lance to try and get this annoying boy off. Guy held on tight, yelling. The rider growled, and Guy could see the look in her eye- she was going to drop the lance.
Panicked, the Sacaen stuck his sword into the chest of the mount. It died instantly, and they shot to the ground. His Killing Edge went flying, and landed in arms reach of Guy's landing point. The Sacaen rolled to a stop, but the rider was crushed under the body of her mount. In retrospect, not the nicest way to die.
Guy dusted himself off, when a bright burst of light caught his eye. He turned to the sphere of light, shielding his eyes. It finally faded, to reveal-
"Florina!" he said, dumbfounded. The young girl seemed dazed, and completely unaware that she had somehow teleported into a battlefield.
"Florina, move!" Guy shouted, running for her. The Ilian seemed to come to, and turned towards the source of the sound. It was that nice boy, Guy, the one she seemed to talk to.
He was running for her, unaware that the last remaining Pegasus Knight of the group was gaining on him, gliding down with a large Steel lance at the ready. Florina's eyes widened, and tears started to fall from her eyes. The Ilian did not move or say a word; Guy's fate had been decided.
No! You still have time, warn him, do something! she screamed at herself.
But it's already too late . . .
Is he dead right at this moment?
Well, no . . .
Then it's not too late! For Elimine's sake, do something!
"Guy! Look out!" she shrieked at last.
The myrmidon glanced over his shoulder with worry. His blood ran cold; all he saw was white feathers and a flash of a pink uniform.
Then pain. The Pegasus halted in it's tracks and settled on the ground. Guy stared at his stomach, and at the lance that had been shoved through it.
Growling, the enemy rider pulled her lance out of Guy's stomach. The myrmidon shuddered, and looked at the rider with dread. He didn't want to die, please . . . please Elimine . . .
Guy lunged with his sword, a last attempt to kill her. The tip shot forward, aiming for her heart. The enemy rider screamed and jerked the lance up instinctively, hearing a sickening squelch.
The lance had gone through Guy's throat. His killer let go of the lance, a scared expression on her face. The myrmidon fell to the ground.
Florina screamed, running for Guy's body. She didn't stop screaming either, she couldn't. She stopped when she reached him, trembling as the tears flowed fast and thick.
"I-I'm sorry . . ." the Pegasus rider said unconsciously. "I . . . I didn't mean . . ." Florina slowly picked up Guy's Killing Edge.
"You didn't mean to?" Florina snarled. "You did it in cold blood!" she said, unable to keep the sorrow from her voice. The girl looked sincerely remorseful.
"I don't want to do this anymore . . ." she said quietly. "Please . . . can I join you?" Florina could scarcely believe her ears.
"J-Join us?" she choked, gripping Guy's sword tightly. "Join this!" Florina shrieked, using both hands to plunge the sword through her enemy's heart.
The cry soon came that victory had been achieved, that the castle had been seized, but Florina didn't believe them for an instant. To her, this day would never, ever be a victory.
Aaaaaand . . . I'm done! Finally! My longest chapter yet, and probably my saddest. I still couldn't get FE to run, so some people may still be OOC. Hopefully I can get it back on soon. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter- reviews are greatly appreciated!
Serra: At least this chapter had me in it!
IceBlade28: Yeah, it had you in it. I loved collapsing the tent on you. Heh heh heh.
Serra: I can't believe you did that- do you know how long it took me to get out of there?
IceBlade28: Uh . . . yes. I wrote it.
Serra: Well, this chapter had a lot more of me, so it's already a bestselling chapter!
IceBlade28: Yeah, yeah, it had you. And no Erk, surprisingly.
Serra: Hey, good point. You evil meanie! Why didn't you put Erky in this chapter!
IceBlade28: Evil meanie? Riiiiight. Okay then! Peoples, remember that more reviews means better chapters. If you want the chapters to be good quality, and updated constantly, you need to review.
Serra: All right, Taylor, that's enough! Sheesh! Let me tell them about next chapter!
IceBlade28: Well, you can't really . . . we need them to tell me in their reviews whether or not to go on to part two of the side quest, or to go straight to the Dragon's Gate.
Serra: Oh yeah. R&R people!
