Chapter 21: Haze
Chrom took a step...
Sand bogged down his progress, tried to pull him back onto the ground. His muscles all wanted to follow that pull, bruised and stretched thin as they were. His blood fought against that exhaustion, screaming for him to keep moving; no going still, not letting the heat in him catch up in the pause and reach a boiling point.
He had to keep moving through the desert. Even if he couldn't remember WHY.
"Hh-?" It was just a sound he managed, nothing else. But it caused the desert to pause around him. Someone was holding him by the shoulder.
Two someones. One in white, one in black. The black cloaked one had a familiar face, and her (how DID he know it was a woman?) hand brushed his shoulder in answer to his voice. Something about the contact dimmed his vision, and things faded out around him.
-o-o-o-
Chrom took a step-
The impact of his foot on the ground cracked his eyes open. The desert had faded out underfoot to something with more drab colors. But the ground still shifted and pulled at him, like walking through a fine silt. His weight was still supported by two on either side of him; the same from before. Just ahead he glimpsed someone in blue, and in the corner of his eyes a figure in dark robes and gold jewelry shadowed them.
But it felt like someone was missing from all of that.
"Wh-" Chrom wheezed out, and the cloaked figure at his side stirred again. The blue figure in front turned a moment, tensing up as she watched him... either afraid of him, or afraid FOR him. The touch on his shoulder and sides faded out in favor of a weight on his back and strapped across his chest. It pressed down against him, and his eyes grew heavy as well. He never finished speaking, and sunk back into a half sleep instead.
-o-o-o-
Chrom took a step.
One step, second step. Stopping for a ragged breath, and then continuing onwards. This time his focus held.
His eyes jolted open as his feet slipped and thumped against a rock strewn path. The world could not decide whether to be cloaked in shadow, or press too bright against his eyes. Always flickering around him, in time with his breath and his thoughts.
The figure in blue still walked ahead of him, but the distance had grown. She kept looking over her shoulder to make sure she was being followed, but also didn't let anyone close the gap.
Robin was close by; holding him up by the arm, in fact. She must have sensed the change in his steps, as she looked over at him.
But still, there was something missing.
"Wh...Where's Emm?" Finally, he managed a full sentence. His throat felt like sandpaper, his mouth gone dry.
"Where's Emm?" But he still managed to repeat the sentence, eyes staring at Robin. She had to know-
Robin didn't answer him. Not with words; just eyes flashing wide with hurt and then squeezing shut around tears. Something was wrong with his own eyes. They blurred and stung, and he didn't know why-
That was a lie.
A part of him knew. The part that had a deep ache lodged into his chest, like someone was prying his heart out inch by inch. He wanted to scream, howl his loss into the graying sky...
...But he was also so TIRED. His body felt like a burned out husk, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. Chrom slumped forward. Robin fought to hold him upright, as did the person on his other side.
Robin's hand skimmed over his shoulder again, and some of the rage faded out from the contact. Leaving him to stagger brokenly along. He half wanted to fall back into oblivion again, but his body was finally pushed into the waking world.
But he didn't have to be in it completely; not just then. Chrom let the fever crawl back over his thoughts, and walk through a numb haze.
-o-o-o-
Keep running. Keep the others alive. Simple orders to follow. Simple was what they needed, just then. Frederick kept that mantra in his head, to try and dull out the grief digging into him. There wasn't any TIME for that emotion then; not when it fell to him to lead the way.
It was a battered group who made their way across the wastelands. Frederick pushed his legs to continue on, leading his horse. Plegia's deserts became streaked with mud, and the number of bleached out fossils only increased. This country was not lightly named the resting place of dragons.
'Dragons. It all comes back to them.' Frederick forced himself onward, trying to think only of pushing forward; never thinking back. His horse must have sensed his agitation, as she blew into his hair with a nervous whicker. The sensation drew his head back to glimpse the ragged line of Shepherds.
Virion nursed a slashed arm. Vaike held his head up to try and mask the pain of healing cuts along his back, while Anna held Sumia's horse steady with one hand, and the other held a gauze in place around her own forehead. Donnel rode double with Stahl, limp with exhaustion. And…
…Lissa never lifted her eyes, instead riding slack in the saddle with Maribelle. She stared down at nothing, only an occasional hiccup and sobbing breath showing she was still alive. And she wasn't alone in how she ghosted through her motions. The entirety of the Shepherds had a broken quality; like they'd lost a limb and hadn't quite grasped the gravity of it yet.
They'd lost Chrom and Robin along with Emm, and most of their pegasus knights; hanging on only to the escape route the tactician had plotted. The sand dunes turned to ridges, then mountains, dotted with forts. The buildings were all in ruins, broken the same as everything else.
"We're almost through, come on! Stir your stumps!" Basilio shouted at the line. A few drops of rain accompanied his words, pushing whatever hair wasn't slicked by sweat flat against Frederick's head. The knight pushed his feet forward… but to his frustration, they were like chunks of lead. All down the ranks, that same exhaustion spread among the soldiers. But Basilio kept at them. "We'll be on safe ground and at the carriages if we can just make it through the ravine-"
"Oaf. We need to stop for a moment here, before we kill half our horses and troops." Flavia's voice was tight; she didn't like the pause anymore than he did. "You have a forward scout or two; if you wish, send them forward and ask the carriages to meet us halfway. This is as good of a resting place as any."
"Seven hells, woman-" Basilio growled, but he also didn't argue. His steps took on a heavy, squelching quality as he rushed people to dismount, and hurry up and rest. Mud had started to cake their shoes, and splashed around the legs of soldiers and horses both.
Frederick walked his horse forward in the hope that there'd be dryer ground just up ahead.
He may as well wished for the dead and lost to come back, while he was at it.
'First the father. Then Emmeryn, and now Chrom. How many do you plan to fail?'
"Frederick… stop." Sumia's voice reached him, right before her hand touched his shoulder. Frederick followed it up to see her seated on her pegasus, looking down at him. With the gray clouds overhead and a certain amount of blood lacking in her face, she looked half like a wraith. A concerned wraith, with a piercing gaze.
"I wasn't-" he started to say, only for her to shake her head.
"I-I saw the way you ducked your head." She pointed out. A little color flooded back into her cheeks, and a fragment of pleased expression flickered across her eyes and her lips; she'd been getting good at reading him, it said.
"I can guess what was going on in your head, too. What happened wasn't your fault…" Sumia trailed off, and just like that the pale color draped back over her. It was her turn to duck her head, and a tremor made the mail of her glove clink against his shoulder.
"What happened…" Couldn't have been real. Couldn't be believed, by her or anyone else. Her hand fell away from his shoulder, and Frederick decided it was time to do some scouting forward with a few Shepherds. They'd patched themselves up as well as they could in the brief pause, particularly since they were short one medic.
That girl was still slumped against the saddle horn, staring numbly ahead. Maribelle brushed against Lissa as she climbed back into the saddle. Lissa started from the sudden contact, wincing and making a pouch at her side swing and smack into her ribs.
Frederick was only halfway to her when Lissa clawed at the offending pouch, and pulled out-
"The silver gem?" He blinked in confusion, before finally remembering the prior night and Chrom passing it on to her.
With all that had happened, it felt like it was months back. Lissa's hand balled into a small fist, shaking from how hard it gripped the gemstone; like she would crush it, if only she could.
"Stupid…" Lissa gritted out, still glaring at the stone.
"It didn't protect me, it didn't keep Chrom or Emm safe… what's the point of this stupid thing, then!? It and that shield TOOK them-!" Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks and mingled with the scattered raindrops. When she couldn't break the gem, she drew her arm back to try hurling it away,
"Lissa!" Frederick started, right as Maribelle put a hand on her arm.
"Dearest… don't. I know it hurts, but don't. Your sister gave up her life for that-"
"I don't want it!" Lissa sobbed. "I just want her and Chrom BACK!"
"I'm afraid you cannot get them back, little princess. Or… perhaps I must now address you as Exalt." A voice, flat and carefully composed, cut across the wasteland.
One that didn't belong to anyone in their group. Sumia hissed out a warning as Frederick spun about. He found himself gazing up at a line of soldiers, easily matching their own ragged numbers, descending one of the slopes and trailing out of one of the forts.
Broken clearly didn't mean abandoned. The speaker was at the front of the group, pausing at the ridge crest as he looked down at them. Heavy armor of rank decorated his soldiers… and clearly of Plegian make, going by the bits of bone he wore.
"But your family are out of your reach. And I must tell you that throwing that gem away will give us much less reason to bring you back alive."
-o-o-o-
Dark clouds hounded their retreat.
Robin pulled her hood up against the storm. The rain hadn't begun to fall yet, but the winds whipped around them, and thunder growled across the sky as patches of clouds lit up. She already had the feeling they'd be caught up in it, and in a way she was grateful; maybe the rain would do something to cool Chrom off.
His skin had been like a furnace all through the retreat. The shift back to human shed most of his wounds, like the fire in him had cauterized them. Even the scales had vanished off his arms. The same restoration couldn't be said for his balance. Even now his steps were shaky. And the heat rolling off him bit at her skin. Her own scales still lingered along her shoulder, itching from the contact of Chrom's weight. Robin squinted her eyes, and forced them to slide to glimmering shape riding up and down on his shoulders.
Chrom still carried the Emblem, slung across his back. Every time he faltered, she swore the thing gave a brief glimmer, and Chrom somehow found his feet again. It also kept the burn along Robin's shoulder down to a stinging, but survivable level.
But Chrom still wouldn't lift his head, instead sagging across her shoulders and those of the priest they'd found in Plegia.
'Libra.'
The monk glanced back at Chrom on occasion. The massive, double bladed axe he carried currently served the role of a walking stick instead of a weapon, his hand resting between the blades.
They made for an odd group; three Ylisseans and a Plegian dark mage who had decided she held no particular loyalties to Plegia. She took the lead after introducing herself as Tharja, picking out their path as the hours bled together, and they wandered further northward, up into a strange mountain pass.
"No sign of our guide. She's decided to vanish." The mage reported, pausing in place as she scanned the rocky slopes. Robin followed her gaze, and realized she was right. Marth had evaporated like azure smoke.
And just like that, she was gone again with those cryptic words left hanging in the wind.
'We must live? Why?' A chill went up her back as she remembered how close they'd come to death... and her hand gave another ache. Chrom wasn't the only one running a fever. Ever since she'd accepted the burn from the embers in Plegia, something hot stayed in her skin. Something she couldn't outpace, no matter how she tried.
The sensation kept rising in her, and Robin was forced to grit her teeth and slide her eyes back to the Emblem, praying it would help her. And each time, it did the trick. Barely.
It wasn't enough to help her when they stepped on a patch of loose gravel. Chrom faltered in his steps and pitched forward; his arm slid from Libra's shoulders, and his weight pulled Robin down until they both collapsed to their knees.
"Chrom-?" Robin gasped out, but still clung to him. Libra turned a few paces, reaching to them... but not entirely bridging the gap. Tharja watched as well, running a well manicured nail against her lips and chin.
"R-robin..." Chrom wheezed out. His sides heaved, and his breath came out in a shuddering gasp. The blue gray air around them flickered orange for a moment. At first Robin wondered if someone had lit a torch.
That notion died when Chrom exhaled, and another flash of flame slipped out with his breath.
"Robin... Emm is..." He was still caught in the past. Again, his muscles bunched up, squirmed... wanting to change into something else, terrible and powerful. For a heartbeat she was sure he'd relapse. Instead his tension died out with a shudder.
'Too weak from everything.' She realized; for that matter, she felt the same.
Libra's eyes widened from the fire. Tharja simply canted her head to the side.
"...Yes, I DID make the right call with going with you. Plegia life was getting boring, compared to all of this."
"I'd take boring at this point," Robin murmured, touching her hand to Chrom's shoulder.
"Chrom...? Listen to me," all she knew was that her voice did something to help him. She didn't dwell on why just yet; only keeping him close. Keeping them both focused. His head listed to the side, eyes trying to focus on her.
His breathing steadied, though she could still feel heat under her fingers and his skin had a sheen of sweat on it. "We have to get you out of here. You need to escape, and you NEED to stay alive... and human."
The last slipped out before she had time to think. Chrom blinked once, shaking his head from side to side and taking deep shuddering breaths. Fire stopped leaking out between his lips; he was trying to focus, to gain some measure of control. That much was clear with how his hand found hers, and squeezed tight.
"What's... happening to-" he rasped out, eyes still staring at nothing... and with a start, Robin saw that his irises had changed. There was an eerie blue glow behind them, and his pupils had narrowed to slits, looking inhuman while the rest of his face stayed the same.
"Aftershocks from your change in Plegia, I'd guess." Tharja continued. Where Libra hesitated, she stepped in closer to gaze down at Chrom. "I could have told you power like that doesn't come cheap, particularly if you've no training for it. There's only so much being a creature of magic will do-"
Chrom blanched at her words, the glow in his eyes dimming as they went wide. A chill latched into Robin's own skin as she felt him shake.
"I-I'm not... human-?"
'We aren't?' She couldn't muffle the thought. Stress sunk into her stomach and bit at her throat, making her breath hitch. The scar on her hand looked particularly snarled and ugly, just then.
"At least not all the time." The mage answered, bluntly. Libra moved towards her, shaking his head.
"Lady Tharja, that was ill said-"
"Well, I'm out of practice with talking formally to royals. Or dragon blessed, so we'll all have to make do." Tharja snapped back, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and if it's all the same to you, we should get the prince marching again..."
"I'll take him." Robin heard herself say, and she pulled Chrom to his feet. Chrom just managed to follow her lead, acting half on auto-pilot.
"I can take him," she said again. "He's still on his feet, and both of you should figure out where we're going."
"...As you say." Libra finally bowed his head in a nod. He glanced around the rocks again, a strange look passing over his face. "...This trail has a familiar look to it. My brethren crossed the borders under the cover of darkness so I am not certain... but I am sure we used this same pass to try and rescue the Exalt-"
'Who you all failed.' That thought bit at Robin and stung at her eyes, before she could stop the idea short. That and the weight of the situation threatened to drag her down, with just how much she'd failed everyone. The image of Emmeryn and Phila's broken bodies latched into her head.
A shudder moved along Robin's shoulders and cut into the downward lurch her thoughts had taken. Chrom ducked his head, his throat fluttering against her neck while a sob tried to pry its way out of his throat.
"And he says I need better words," Tharja mumbled. Then louder she said "This is one of the few reliable routes in and out of the country. The forts don't get as much upkeep."
Neither did the path, with how many rocks tried to turn the foot. Chrom was a pressing weight on her back, always pushing her forward.
There was still that one other thing driving her along. Pushing sparks into her skin and a restless feeling along her limbs, making her feel like a giant tensed muscle. She couldn't turn her head correctly to look at the Emblem, and Robin found herself in need of a distraction.
She looked to Tharja for it.
"You called us-"
"Dragon blessed... or cursed might be a better way of putting it. Depends on who you ask." Tharja glanced at Libra, and the priest coughed.
"Actually... much could be said the same in Ylisse. Even the scriptures and songs can't always agree on whether it's..." Robin saw how he didn't fully glance back at her and Chrom.
"It's what?" She pressed, talking around a dryness in her throat. Chrom lifted his face as well, looking almost quizzical before his head sagged back down.
"A curse or not. Almost all of the tales are cautionary, about how no one can safely wield that much power. I'd always taken them to be metaphors for not being too greedy or desperate. But now..." He sighed out, eyes falling again on her and Chrom. Beyond the howling wind, Robin swore there was a ghostly echo of Chrom's scream in the plaza.
"However... he IS of the Exalt's line. And I think that if anyone can shoulder such a burden, it would be him." Robin didn't answer, her eyes drifting back down to her own mark. With how shot Chrom's control was, what did it say about hers?
"We're getting close to your escape party." Tharja announced, having taken the lead again. "They've taken this route as well."
"You've seen them?" Tharja made a tsking sound, letting a vial on a thin gold chain drop from her fingers. Something inside it sloshed red, vivid against the grayed out landscape.
"Of course not... I just took some fresh blood from the sands I KNEW was from one of them, and put a tracing spell on it." Robin shivered; not from Tharja's casual use of sorcery, but instead from a thought worming its way into her mind.
"But... does that mean someone else could track them too?" They were getting closer to the ridge top, if the slant in the ground was anything to go by. Robin pushed her feet against it.
"Perhaps, if they had a mage as talented as me-"
A peal of thunder cut Tharja off, right as the skies lit up. White light cut Robin's eyes, and her feet stumbled over rocks. Drops of rain drummed on her hood, and her feet nearly shot over the ridge. Chrom clung onto her arm to keep her from stumbling down, and Robin blinked furiously to clear her vision.
Below them was a series of narrow passes. The ground below ran in ravines and breaks, like something had clawed up the ground. The one constant were humps of something pale, rising and falling back into the mire.
Bones. Bones again, all around, some forming the half roof. With a lurch, she realized she was actually bracing her foot against one that jutted out from the hill. A humming speared back into Robin's pulse.
Diminished compared to Plegia, but it soaked into her muscles all the same.
'Not yet, not yet-' She swore her shoulder was going raw, between scales and flesh. Robin frantically tried to push all those sensations out of her head.
Her eyes darted across the field below, trying to pick a road out of the mess of rocks. Instead her eye caught on several splashes of color, clear against the muddy grounds.
"Ylisse?" Libra whispered out the same time Robin saw a dress and blurted out "Lissa!"
Chrom's head snapped up at that, his eyes focusing and his weight lifting from her shoulders. His sister was indeed down there, surrounded by the remnants of the Shepherd's strike force. Robin counted out all of the familiar faces she'd come to know, and let out a sigh of relief...
Right as she noticed how tightly they were packed in a defensive circle. They were ringed by Plegian attackers brandishing steel, though not one of them took a step forward to strike with swords or axes. Frederick stayed at the front of the group, keeping his spear steady on the attackers. The weapon had picked up more nicks and scars from the battles, the edges chipped and tarnished. To make up for the damage to Frederick's weapon, Sully and Stahl flanked him with weapons drawn and holding the fighters at bay.
Beyond them, standing on one of the ridges and flanked by riders, she picked out a man with the look and bearing of a general. His words echoed up from the walls of the ravine, just audible against the rumble of thunder and patter of droplets on her hood.
"Ylisseans, my name is General Mustafa of Plegia. I ask you now, throw down your weapons and surrender peacefully. No harm shall come to you if you do this."
"...You will forgive us if we cannot take your word." Frederick's own voice was strained. "Plegia has robbed us of two leaders today... I will not willingly give up the third."
"You will be marching to your deaths. We outnumber you, and outflank you. I ask again, please surrender. Believe what you will, but I heard your Exalt's speech before she fell. I don't wish for more blood to be spilled-"
"Don't-" Chrom hissed out the word, and warmth spread across the back of Robin's neck when he stood up. The blue gray of the storm was banished by a flare of orange. Robin flinched backwards, and Chrom stepped forward to glare down the slope and seethe.
"Don't you dare-" he said again, and a shudder of power ran through him. The brand on his shoulder glimmered. Each time he exhaled, flame drifted out from his mouth. Chrom didn't so much as flinch from the fire, eyes boring into the figures below.
"DON'T YOU DARE MOCK MY SISTER'S WORDS!" He howled, and all the faces below turned up to look at them. The anguish in his words jolted something loose in Robin's heart, and pushed a familiar ache into her hand.
A jagged lance of lightning split the sky with a crackle. Chrom leapt from the ridge and slid his way down the muddy slope, the sky opening up above them and drenching the field in a torrent.
Robin chased after Chrom. With each step her fingers curled to claws, and the temperature of her body spiked. Her body finally uncoiled, moving smoothly... and eyes only on Chrom.
What choice did Robin have, but to follow?