Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 27: All According to Keikaku
Tharja staggers to her feet, clutching her chest even after I put it back together. She looks at me with that smile that I almost have a Pavlovian nauseous reaction looking at. She only smiles at me like that when I've done a good job blasting her nearly clean open.
"So, what were you thinking about that time? It hit pretty hard," she asks as she stands up straight. Well, as straight as she ever does; she's kind of got a perpetual slouch to her shoulders.
"Honestly? All I was thinking about was how scared I am that one of these will kill you outright." That's half true. What I'm really scared of is that if or when something like that happens, I'll enjoy the act. I'm trying to be cautious as hell about this stuff, constantly keeping in mind what she said before about dark mages losing their minds when they dive into their magic too much. Turns out that very fear, ironically enough, provides a nice fuel for the Flux spell itself.
She sniffs derisively. "I suppose it worked this time, but you'd better come up with something better than that. Fear is a powerful emotion, but I doubt you'll be quite so afraid of killing your enemies when they come bearing down on your friends. You should focus on developing your connection to the emotions you'll actually be tapping into when you use your magic in the field. Hate is always nice."
I shrug. "Sorry Tharja, I guess I just don't hate you. It's a little difficult to dredge up those emotions on command."
"That's why you need to spend more time ruminating on the faults of your enemies. Learn to detest people that would wrong you. Get better at deciding you despise someone soon after you first see them," she says.
"Yeah, that sounds healthy," I deadpan.
"You and Robin asked me to help you realize your potential. That's what you would have to do to reach that potential."
"I think we'll take it in baby steps, alright?" I reply, frowning as I ready my book to go again.
"If you're alright being a subpar mage between now and when you decide to toughen up, I suppose I can't stop you. I'm only going along with this at all because Robin asked me to," she says condescendingly. "Now, once more."
Her comment pisses me off just enough that I get a nice, powerful blast out of my next attempt. Wiped that patronizing look right off her face. I only remember to feel guilty about it when I'm putting her torso back together a few seconds later.
"So, you suppose that because the Exalt still lives–"
The hooded figure stops speaking mid-sentence to take a deep breath through their nose and out their mouth, as if smelling a fragrant flower. They smile as they exhale, making the air hiss slightly as it leaves their mouth.
"My lord?" Validar asks after a moment.
"What, what?" the hooded figure barks, irritated instantly.
Validar flinches. "It's just… you stopped talking in the middle of your thought. I am unsure what you meant by it."
"I never stop 'in the middle of my thought,' Validar. The thought was finished. Dead. Gone. Over." The smile is a forgotten memory beneath the figure's imposing snarl. "Do not presume to tell me what I think."
"O-of course, my lord. A thousand apologies," Validar stammers.
The figure looks away from Validar and takes another deep breath, the smile returning. "Things are going to get interesting again soon. I'm so glad."
I'm not sure what it is lately, but for the past few nights the old nightmares have been letting up. If I'm still dreaming, it's nonspecific enough that I don't really remember them. I stretch gratuitously, grateful that I had another actually nice night of sleep even if I don't know the reason I'm getting them. It could be that these dark magic training sessions are wearing me out enough that my brain doesn't have the energy to craft such artfully painful dreams.
Or maybe I'm sleeping better because of the knowledge that we're nearly out of this godforsaken desert. Yeah, that's probably it, now that I think about it.
We get the camp packed up and get on the move. In an effort to make sure I'm staying in touch with the rest of the Shepherds rather than staying cooped up in the command wagon all day, I'm marching with the others. I almost instantly regret my choice when the sand starts invading my boots and clothes again. Just keep it going, Randy. We're almost out of the desert.
A light catches my eye. Near the front of the pack, I spot someone that looks like they leapt straight out of Assassin's Creed, pure white garments flowing gently in the desert wind. Oh wait, that's Libra with his hood up.
I decide I should talk with him a little. Partially because we share a profession, and partially because admittedly I know comparatively very little about the guy. Truth be told, Libra usually got benched in my old playthroughs. But now that we're all on equal ground, I want to get to know him just as well as anyone else.
"Yo, Libra!" I call from behind him. He stops walking, turning his head to look at me. "You holding up okay? Drinking water and all? The desert's nearly done, I think, but we still have this last bit to power through."
He smiles kindly. God damn is he pretty. "Good morning, Randall. I am doing well, but thank you for your concern. I'm glad to hear that we are nearly out of the desert, though; frankly this heat is something I'll be glad to put behind us."
"You're telling me. Ask anyone: I hate this place," I reply. We resume walking apace with everyone else.
He chuckles. "Loathe as I am to say I 'hate' any part of the gods' creation, if I were pressed to choose one thing…" He shakes a little sand off his robes. We both share a good natured laugh at the desert's expense. "I must admit, I haven't known you long, but you've made an impression. Am I right in thinking you're not actually a member of the clergy?"
"Yeah, that's right." I wonder if I should be insulted by his assumption.
"What motivates the robes, if I may ask?"
"Honestly, at this point it's largely because I don't own any other clothes." I show him where the ends of my sleeves have started fraying. "I don't even remember where I got them, but they're all I've had. You don't get a lot of opportunities to shop for clothes in wartime."
"I see. It sounds as though you have had it fairly rough. Please accept my sympathy," he says solemnly, bowing his head a little.
"What? Oh, no, it's not that I'm like super poor or anything. I've always had enough to get by, no problem. The Shepherds take really good care of their soldiers. I just haven't made the time to restock on some stuff," I reply.
Libra gives a small, pious smile. "I understand. You must be very committed to your duty, then."
I shrug. "Or really lazy. It's a toss-up."
"I suppose I can't argue with that, pending getting better acquainted with you."
I hold up a hand to stop the conversation. Oh my God. Is that a plant? I think I see a plant on the horizon. And like, not just one sad tree overlooking an oasis. That's a little collection of wild shrubs. That's life! Naturally occurring life!
The realization sweeps through the rest of the Shepherds in more or less the same moment. An almost disbelieving murmur breaks out, followed by some whoops and hollers, and soon we're all but running toward the promised land of water and plants. We don't really think about how far away the horizon actually is (it turns out, pretty far), so we have to slow back to a regular walk a good distance away from our precious plants, but even so, actually seeing a goal visually makes progressing toward it all the sweeter.
Before long, the sandy ground starts to thicken with soil and pebbles, giving our footsteps a source of actual resistance rather than leaving us to stumble on the interminable sand. After a while, we reach the plants at last. A good number of the Shepherds, myself included, give the first few shrubs a loving pat as we walk past them.
As the sand slowly gives up and defers dominance to the dry soil of the plains, I take the opportunity to remove my outer robes and, for what I hope is the last time in a long time, shake loose every particle of sand they've collected over the past few weeks.
After that hellish expedition, I'll almost be glad when we get back to the snowy north.
"Randall, Chrom, I remembered something," Robin says as we look over the map of northern Plegia. "Randall, that important thing that slipped my mind while we were drinking the other night. It came back to me as I was looking at this region's map a little bit ago."
"What is it, Robin?" Chrom asks in a sort of pumped-up tone, looking quite excited to be included in the tactical process this time.
She gets out her little set of wooden pieces she uses to represent military units on the planning table. Looks like we're planning a battle.
"I know what Plegia is going to do next. And I have a plan. We're going to need Kellam and Miriel's help, though. And I'll want you two to relay the plan to everyone before we go to bed tonight."
The following day, I revel in the scenery as the world just gets greener and greener with every step north. Soon a more forgiving, bouncy clay ground replaces the loamy half-soil we spent much of yesterday and this morning walking on, and not long after that, we start seeing proper lush grasses again.
It all puts me in such a good mood that my lunchtime dark magic training session suffers for it. I can't very well focus on negativity or hate when the novelty of being in a climate I actually like is still so fresh. Tharja isn't too pleased, of course, but frankly I think I can live with her disappointment. All it means is my magic isn't dealing life-threatening injuries to her person this time around. I'll focus on hating the enemy or whatever she wants later.
In the mid-afternoon, we crest a particularly tall hill, and once we're at the top I'm reminded of another major block in our way: Lake Medeus. It's a little ways off, but aside from the bridge station in front of us, I don't see a way across the lake, and it stretches beyond the horizon both east and west from here.
Like last time, Robin has us disarm and remove any visible armor before we approach the guards. We all place our weapons in easily accessible locations in our wagons, ready to snatch them up at a moment's notice if the need arises.
Like last time, Robin and Chrom approach the guard at the gate.
"Halt. What business do you have crossing the lake?" the guard asks gruffly.
"We are simply merchants, looking to transport our wares to the northern villages. The warm weather draws to a close, and the people living near the border will need supplies to fend off the winter," Robin says smoothly.
The guard nods. "Right. Off you go, then," he says simply.
Robin smiles. "Thank you kindly, sir. Everyone, let's get a move on. I don't want to have to stop on the bridge overnight."
I do my best to hold back my smirk as we pass the guard. Robin was right, at least so far.
The caravan moves as quickly as we can to get everything on the bridge and moving across the lake. At the same time, I'm being as covert as I can about slinking around the Shepherds, instructing all of them to get ready for battle.
Within a couple minutes, everyone is holding their weapons and is getting ready to fight. Robin and I arrange everyone such that our front and back lines have most of our heavies, with Stahl leading the cavalry up front and Chrom leading the infantry in back. The pegasus knights are up front for now, poised to take to the skies at the first sign of trouble. Stahl's also got Panne on Fennec with him, ready to leap off and transform in an instant. I'm in what I guess you could call the second line, gripping my staff at the ready behind the cavalry. Somehow I doubt I'll be seeing much action, as Maribelle will make a much more efficient healer for the cavalry than I will, but the back line already has Lissa, Libra, and Anna to cover them, so I'm better off up here just in case according to our fair tactician. Robin, Ricken, and Tharja are waiting atop the wooden roof of the command wagon to rain covering fire on either side of the conflict.
Robin calls down to me from above. "Randall, where's your tome?"
"In the wagon."
"Why don't you have it on you?"
"Because I'm still training with it. I don't want to use anything I'm not ready to yet," I reply. I'm not going to have a repeat of Breakneck and the Rescue staff, thank you very much.
"Go get it anyway. Even if it's just as a last resort, it's better to be able to defend yourself," she commands.
In response, I pantomime a swing with my staff.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I mean really defend yourself."
"I'm not fully trained to use it yet! It'll hardly do me any good if I can't wield it properly. Besides, swinging this thing at people's heads has worked surprisingly well so far."
Tharja interrupts. "You should get the tome. You're more ready than you think." Not sure how I feel about that smile.
I consider for a moment. As much as I'm not yet confident about using dark magic, I can't exactly say it's because I think I can't make the book kill somebody. It's more my mental hangups about the magic's potential effects on me. But if I had to defend myself or my friends, I could probably put those hangups aside, right? I've killed before, after all. And if I'm fighting for a good reason, hopefully I can keep a lid on the magic.
That's right. You're only doing what you have to do to keep your friends safe. Using anything less than every available tool at your disposal is irresponsible. You have a duty to protect everyone, just like every Shepherd does.
I dig back through my pack and get the Flux tome Tharja gave me. In order to have it ready to go, though, I have to strap my Mend staff to my back rather than holding it, so my left hand is free to cast the spell. If I have to get the staff out, that works one-handed.
I rejoin the second line, marching quietly and waiting for the enemy to make a move. The fighting cavalry are riding a good couple dozen feet ahead, looking to give themselves some maneuvering room if they need it. Fleur-de-lis trots next to me. Maribelle looks like she wants to say something, but she only opens her mouth and shuts it again a couple times.
"You good, Maribelle?" I ask.
"Yes, it's just… I thought you told me you didn't have an aptitude for tome magic. What's that?"
Did I not tell her I can use dark magic? I guess I didn't really tell anybody specifically aside from Chrom, Robin, and Tharja, now that I think about it. "Yeah, I don't, at least for anima magic. But it turns out, I can use dark magic without a problem. I'm still learning from Tharja, but I think it's coming along." I remember that gut-twisting feeling I get when Tharja does that smile of hers. "Mostly. Anyway, she and Robin seem confident enough that I can use it well enough. Like usual, it seems it's just a matter of getting out of my own head. Same song, different verse, right?"
I can't tell what she's thinking from that expression. "Right. I must admit I'm surprised, though. And here I thought Tharja was the first dark mage I had ever met. It seems it was you, though." What's with that look?
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of us have the aptitude for it, actually. I mean come on, you've met Robin. What are the chances that demon in human clothes can't sling a few dark spells?" I ask. I'm pretty sure Miriel and Cordelia could reclass to dark mages too, right? The details of the game get fuzzier all the time, and who knows how much of that was accurate anyway?
She smirks. "Hardly the most flattering moniker. Perhaps I should tell her you called her that behind her back."
I shrug. "I'd call her that to her face, just the same. She knows I think she's scary as hell."
"Regardless, point taken. It's just… for those of us who grew up in the western provinces of Ylisse after Gideon's War, there's a certain, well, I suppose you could call it a stigma. Part of why so many of my colleagues in the healer's school took such pride in their calling was the element of national identity behind it, you see. Healing magic is Ylissean, and dark magic is Plegian, or so the generalizations went. Of course, everyone knew it wasn't fully true, but it's easy to oversimplify when you're a child. And it is true that there are much more people with healing aptitude in Ylisse, and much more dark mages in Plegia. It's rare to have someone who can do both," she says.
"Fair enough. If I promise I'm not working for the Plegians, will that quell your suspicions?" I ask with a small smirk. Better to make my concern seem like a joke, I figure.
"I never said I was suspicious of you!" she protests. "It's not a bad thing, I just mean it's unfamiliar to me is all."
"Randall! Maribelle!" I hear Robin call behind us. I turn to look, and she's pointing toward the watchtowers behind us. From the tower on our left, a bright flare has been shot straight into the air. Down on the ground, a group of soldiers is forming into ranks. It's hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like they're mostly spearmen and archers. I turn back toward the other side of the bridge, and about the same distance in the other direction, another group is forming up. Looks like they planned to trap us in the middle of the bridge and pincer attack us.
I smile.
Just like Robin planned.
"Sumia! Cordelia! Into the sky!" Robin commands, and the pegasus knights take off, far above the range of the ground archers. She turns back to the back line. "Chrom! Keep pace with us for as long as you can, and only engage when we absolutely must. They must believe they have us."
"Right!" he calls back as the caravan slowly proceeds down the bridge.
The groups of Plegians start advancing. They've formed sort of phalanxes, moving as one unit with shields raised and lances out in front of them. Behind them, the archers wait to get into range.
Closer. Closer… Just a little more…
"MIRIEL! NOW!" Robin shouts.
The lines of archers behind the caravan shout in pain as they burst into flame. A few collapse where they stand, while others desperately leap into the lake in the hopes of putting out the flame and saving themselves. Regardless, all the archers are taken down in very short order.
At last, Kellam's talent for going unseen was used to its fullest potential. As we passed through the gate, he had slipped away unseen and, hiding his fiancée behind his massive shield, ducked behind the checkpoint entrance and kept both of them hidden in the shadow of the east tower. As the Plegians formed up, they made sure to let them get in front of them without being seen. Following behind the group, the archers were sitting ducks as all their potential defenders were on the wrong side of them. This allowed Miriel to use the new Arcfire tome that Anna had picked up in town to blast the entire enemy line in the backs with a massive stream of fire. Of course, she didn't stop just because the archers were all dispatched in a moment. Defended by her fiancé's shield, she now continues to blast the lancers with Arcfire, disrupting their phalanx and opening their formation up for Chrom and the others to engage with relative safety. The pincer tactic is broken, and the southern force is all but doomed.
As for the northern half, we have to be a little different with our tactics. Rather than attacking from behind, we're distracting them from above. There's no real way for us to stop a volley of arrows normally if they're fired at us on such a narrow bridge. However, Sumia and Cordelia are doing an excellent job of running interference on their archers. They're staying generally at too great a height to hit, but still swooping in every once in a while to try and pick one of them off and make sure they have the archers' full attention as often as possible.
Meanwhile, Robin, Ricken, and Tharja are firing at the phalanx from atop the wagon, but not a lot of their attacks are really connecting. It's not entirely clear why until Robin shouts, "They've got a medic with a Ward staff! We have to break their ranks physically!"
Unfortunately, on the physical side things aren't going so well. Panne, Stahl, and Sully are doing their best to probe the phalanx for weaknesses, but they don't seem to be finding any. It's especially taxing for Stahl, who's fighting through a weapon disadvantage. He takes a few hits, but Maribelle is quick to patch him up and then retreat back to where I'm standing. Even so, their advance isn't breaking pace, and it's only a matter of time before we will have to back up, a nearly impossible feat for our wagons on this bridge as there isn't enough width to pull a U-turn. Robin's plan to rain magic on the phalanx from above isn't working, and we're getting backed into a corner now.
Disaster strikes. The first thing to go wrong is Stahl having his sword knocked out of his hand by a well-placed stab from the phalanx as he passes by. This is followed swiftly by another jab aimed straight at his neck, stopped only by a hasty lifting of his buckler. Even then, the blow is forceful enough to knock him from his horse and off the edge of the bridge, sending him plummeting into the water below. Seconds later, Panne wordlessly leaps from the bridge to join him, though I'm not sure what she hopes to accomplish. When I peek over the edge briefly, I see her transformed form supporting the drenched Stahl while kicking furiously under the water. It's keeping him above water for now, but I can tell she can't keep that up forever. She takes them under the bridge so the archers won't have a chance to open fire on them.
With that, most of our front line is diminished. Vaike, Gaius, Lon'qu, and Gregor move from the waning action behind the caravan to join us up front and bolster our line, but none of us can seem to break their ranks, and their Ward medic is keeping them safe from the barrage of magic the mages keep hurling their way. Meanwhile, the archers are getting more aggressive as well, since Cordelia has to stop running interference on them so she can try to find and opening to pick up Stahl and Panne from the lake without getting fired on from above. Something's gotta change, and soon. Ideally we could get rid of the Ward guy, allowing our mages to open up their lines, but the medic is nestled comfortably between the phalanx and the archers, where just about nothing can get him.
Unless someone can get dropped into the middle of the pack where he's standing. Now there's a thought. Could that work? The response from our front line would have to be immediate to keep the drop guy from getting swamped instantly. But if we can get a well-coordinated effort going…
"Hey Robin! I've got an idea! Get Sumia back down here, then make sure that everyone's ready to push at once," I call up to her.
I watch the gears turn in her head for a second as she puts my idea together. "Randall, that's stupid! What makes you think that would work?"
"That's why I'll drop in. So we don't have to feel like we put anyone else at such a stupid risk. And if I'm wrong, I'm wrong. We can deal with that later," I reply, trying to be guarded about what I'm actually saying for any other listeners. This run isn't going to be viable for much longer if our soldiers keep getting pushed off the bridge, so something needs to change, now. So if I die attempting this, then it's just a bonus as opposed to having to do the deed myself.
"Shouldn't we send someone with better physical defense?" Robin asks. "You've never been one to tank melee hits very well." As she speaks, Gregor and Gaius shout in alarm as they too get forced off the bridge. We've got a lot of people treading water down there now.
"No time to get someone else. Besides, you'll coordinate the others to make sure I don't have to take any hits, right? We have to wave Sumia down," I say firmly. "And the moment I've got their medic taken care of, the mages need to start mowing the phalanx down and open their lines for the melee guys. Otherwise I'm gonna get killed for sure."
A split second's hesitation later, Robin nods and whistles sharply into the sky. Sumia looks down at us, and Robin waves her arm to summon Sumia back down to the ground. We've gotta be quick about this, I realize, as the company of archers avert their gaze from Sumia and start eyeing the mages on top of the wagon.
The moment Sumia is in range, Robin shouts, "Sumia! Take him!" and points to me. To Sumia's credit, her usual clumsiness seems all but gone when she's atop her mount, and she makes an incredibly sharp turn to veer down to my position. I hold up a hand, gripping my tome tightly in the other. She swoops down beside me and, not slowing down at all, grabs my hand and yanks me onto Kestral's back behind her. Damn near dislocates my shoulder doing it, too.
"What now?" Sumia asks, turning her head slightly to hear me better.
"Drop me on that guy with the staff. Right on top. Then keep on those archers and get them off the mages. We're gonna need them," I half-shout over the wind in my ears and her hair blowing in my face.
"Got it. Get ready," she says, pulling Kestral into another tight turn and starting our descent back down to the bridge, aimed straight at the center of their pack where the medic stands. Jesus Christ we're going fast. Oh shit quite a few archers are turning toward us. Holy hell this was a bad idea! I can't help shouting in fear as we soar toward the ground.
At what seems like the last possible second to me, Sumia finally pulls up just enough to avoid a crash, slowing us down enough that I can jump off without my legs shooting up through my shoulders. Keep your eye on the target, Randy. Don't pay attention to the couple dozen guys getting ready to kill you in just a second here. There he is.
The medic whirls to face me the moment I land on the stone bridge. He shouts for help, and a couple lancers turn their heads and prepare to pull out of the phalanx to dispatch me. A couple archers are trying to aim past each other to get a good shot at me, but fortunately most of them are occupied with Sumia for the moment. In other words, I've got a good four or five people surrounding me, all looking to skewer me with sharp metal.
Does stress count as an emotion? My Flux tome seems to think so, as the book downright shakes in my hand as I whip open the cover and pull a spell from a page. With every passing instant, as my would-be killers get closer, the spell gets stronger in my hand, until I have to let it go or else it might explode. I point my left hand at the medic's face and release the spell. The kick from the spell hits my arm like a shotgun recoil, and my torso jerks violently back as the Flux fires. A flash of darkness and a second later, the man falls to the ground, hands idly clutching his withered head.
The lancers are about to reach me. I won't have time to pull out a second spell before one of them gets me. I'm sure the archers are about to shoot as well. This is it. Either the run ends here or Robin pulls through for me.
A golden flash from my left confirms that my prayers have been answered as one of the lancers collapses to the stone, seizing up from the Elthunder shock that just drilled through him. The other lancer takes a stab, but fortunately I manage to contort my torso right and dodge it. No time to cast anything, so I settle for punching him in the face as he leans into his missed stab. It's enough to knock him off-balance, and he stumbles back a bit. Seizing my chance while I have it, I kick him in the chest, sending him careening off the bridge and down into the lake.
The sound of fire and lightning around me assures me that Robin was able to coordinate a timely attack on the phalanx. The melee guys start busting through the line, with Vaike and Lon'qu at the front, cleaving the pack in half like the Red Sea. It's such a distracting sight that I don't notice until too late that one of the archers has a clear shot on me. The arrow enters the left side of my abdomen, seizing the breath out of my lungs. My teeth clench so tight they threaten to chip each other. Even so, if I don't get hit again, this is hardly lethal. I think.
A moment later, I hear a scream from the other side of the pack (I hesitate to call it a phalanx now) that chills the blood in my veins. That was Maribelle, no mistake. I can just barely see her atop her horse over all the chaos between us. She's using her staff to try to fend off one of the lancers, who apparently broke away from the group when the integrity of their formation failed. As she turns slightly, I can see by the blood staining her pants that she's already been stabbed once by this guy. She's going to lose this fight, and soon.
Fear is a powerful emotion, but I doubt you'll be quite so afraid of killing your enemies when they come bearing down on your friends.
She was right. I'm not afraid. I'm mad.
Everything else fades to a blur. The fighting around me, the pain in my side, all of it, takes a distant, distant second to getting to Maribelle right this second. I rip open the Flux tome and pull out the magic that's all too willing to come along for this ride. One Plegian falls before me, his chest concaved by the decay the dark magic inflicts on him. I faintly feel the wind of a swung weapon that only barely misses me as someone from the Shepherds steps in to block the blow on my behalf. I lose sight of Maribelle in the midst of the chaos. Another Plegian gets in my way and takes a stab at me, and I feel the tome sing quietly in the back of my head as I take out his leg and, while he tries to regain a sense of balance, kick him off the bridge. The exertion of doing that sharpens the pain in my side and makes my breath catch, but I can't stop now. A second cry from Maribelle, calling my name, is all the encouragement I need to renew my effort. I sling spell after spell, letting the tome do the work for me as I finally let loose and tear open a path to her. And when I've finally gotten through to the other side of the fighting, I find–
Nothing. Someone's already killed the man who was attacking Maribelle, and Lissa is closing up her wounds without any trouble. She's safe. But she's still looking at me with such fear on her face. As if she's still in danger.
I'm still furious. I can't relax. The tome in my hand shakes with the desire to punish the Plegians for harming my friends. For harming Maribelle. You know what? Fine, let's go back in.
I turn around, and while the fighting is definitely moving in one direction, it's still going strong. I pull another spell from the tome and sling it at the lancer that Lon'qu is fighting, hitting the man in the arm and rendering his shield arm useless just in time for Lon'qu to relieve him of his head. He turns his head just slightly to look my way and, though his brows rise in surprise, he still nods in acknowledgement of my help. I'd respond, but I'm already throwing spells at the other enemies left.
It feels right. These guys are scum after all. They deserve to be put down. I'm doing the world a favor putting people like this down. I start walking closer to the fray, getting ready to dive back in, but a hand on my shoulder stops me. I whirl around angrily, prepared to fry whoever stopped me if it's one of the Plegians, but thankfully I manage to stop just in time to prevent myself from blasting Libra in the face.
"This explains a lot," he says with an understanding look on his face. "Randall, we can take it from here. Let me heal the wounds you sustained."
"I'm fine. Let me go," I reply, but as I try to turn away he tightens his grip, stopping just short of the pain threshold. With his other hand, he takes the Flux tome from my grip despite my attempts to hang onto it. The moment it leaves my hand, my senses sharpen and I become aware of how much pain I'm actually in.
"You are not, I'm afraid, and I will not," he says, guiding me back toward the command wagon.
"Libra, do you have it covered?" I hear Robin call from above.
"Yes, no need to worry, Robin," he calls back. With that, he lays me down on the stone (greatly uncomfortable, considering I'm lying on the Mend staff strapped diagonally across my back) and I get a look at what he and Robin are so worried about. I took more hits than just the arrow in my haste to get to Maribelle. I was stabbed in the stomach at least once, and my left thigh has a cut that's bleeding freely. Aches in other places on my body suggest that I actually got knocked around a great deal as well, and I just didn't notice.
"Libra," I struggle to say. "Don't let me lose consciousness."
"I will do what I can," he replies, and before I can say or think anything else he yanks the arrow out of my side, earning a pained groan from me. He closes his eyes to focus his energy on healing me. I'd managed to forget how much getting healed hurts like a bitch. All the nerves that get stitched back together have this habit of celebrating their newfound wholeness by sending a big shock of pain up to the brain to deal with. Despite my best efforts, a few shouts of pain escape as the wounds close.
"Get him in the command wagon," I hear Robin's voice order from up above. "We've got this covered, so tell him there's no need to worry. And Randall, I expect you to stay there until I come to get you."
Even though I want to rejoin the fight, my exhausted struggles don't amount to much as the surprisingly strong Libra carries me into the wagon and sits me up against a crate.
"Everyone is going to be alright, Randall. Cordelia has already started collecting our comrades who fell below the bridge, and they all appear to be safe. Princess Lissa and the others are taking care of them now," Libra assures me as he leaves the wagon.
As much as I want to will my body to get up, it takes all my effort just to stay conscious, so I have no choice but to focus on that and just wait. I just hope the fighting is nearly done.
Randall, you idiot.
Of course, everything is going well. He might have gone overboard later in the fight, but he managed to pull off dispatching the medic without any issues. And then, the instant the Ward went down, the Shepherds were poised to charge. Ricken, Tharja, and I aren't having any issues weakening the opposition enough that the melee fighters can clean up without much trouble. Meanwhile, the last archer company is in disarray after their defensive line has crumbled. Most of the ones that our magic blasts or Virion's arrows aren't taking down are fleeing for their lives down the bridge, tripping over one another in an effort to not be the closest to us. If it hadn't been for that damned Ward, this is what the fight would have been like in the first place.
Oh well. Cordelia and now Sumia as well are bringing up the Shepherds who fell into the lake, and Lissa and the other healers are seeing to them. With the four active healers to work with, there doesn't seem to be anything to worry about. We've won the day with no casualties and only moderate setbacks.
Still, what the hell happened back there? I've never seen Randall look like that. It wasn't so much the strength of his performance; if anything, it was fairly average for a mage to be able to take out three or four disorganized and panicked units. But the way he acted, the way he moved. I don't know if he was even aware of how much he was being hurt. He barely reacted to getting stabbed in the stomach, nor did he react to Maribelle screaming for him when she saw it happen except to just get angrier. The cuts and knocks that he received didn't phase him.
"That Randall may have some promise after all," Tharja says as I'm overseeing the cleanup. Does she have to stand so close?
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I told him that he'd have to let loose if he ever wanted to be worth anything as a dark mage, and it looks like he's finally willing to listen. It was hardly a display to write home about, but that determination, that giving into his anger…" She giggles. "Not bad for a novice."
"You mean you encouraged him to act like that?" I ask, aghast.
She shrugs. "It's the only way to draw anything of worth out of a dark tome. The magic will do a lot of the heavy lifting for you if you let it, and that's the way every sorcerer worth their salt operates."
"You understand that he could have gotten himself killed, right?"
"Dark mages do their finest work under the threat of death. Did you see the way his magic spiked after he took that arrow to the side? Pain and anger and passion are all close relatives, and one can usually help you tap into another. I was starting to think I'd have to start smacking him to get those kinds of results in training," she replies.
"Okay, fine, but Tharja, I can't believe I have to actually say this out loud: I don't want our allies to die. I'm not saying it's your fault this happened, but is there really no other way for him to become proficient with this?" I am currently resisting the urge to shake her.
"Well, like with anything, raw talent is refined by training. He'll get better at tapping into those emotions over time. They'll become more natural, and then making effective use of them gets easier."
"So getting better at dark magic entails literally just becoming a more angry, hateful person?" I ask.
"Well, you could put it that way, I suppose…" She averts her eyes and scowls in response to the disbelieving look I give her. "What? This is what you asked for, remember?"
"I didn't know that making him a competent dark mage involves turning him into a crazy person!" I reply. "Why would anyone do this?"
"Because dark magic is the most powerful resource a mage can tap into," Tharja says. "I can use anima magic as well, just like most dark mages, but there's rarely a reason to bother, unless you have no access to a dark tome. The allure of power is strong. I would know."
I can't deny that makes sense. If someone is only seeking power, there's no better way to gain it, even if it costs you your mental stability. It actually explains the behavior of a lot of dark mages we've met so far. Present company included, if I'm being honest. It accounts for Tharja's more obsessive tendencies, at least.
"Even so, we can't risk anyone's sanity. There has to be another way to do this," I say at last.
"Are there other ways? Maybe. But I don't know them, and I hardly think they can come close to the level that just tapping into your emotions achieves," Tharja replies, sounding a little offended. I suppose I am speaking quite harshly about her way of life, after all. And maybe it's not the worst thing in the world, either. Tharja might be decidedly creepy, and concerningly fixated on me, but she's hardly a bad person. Just… different.
I wonder what she'd be like outside the influence of dark magic.
Tharja takes her leave of me to go do whatever she does on her own time, but I'm not left alone for long. Libra approaches me, his formerly white robes spattered with red.
"Robin, everyone is recovered and fully healed. No complications, and no one lost consciousness. We also recovered this," he says, handing me a metal staff.
"What is this?" I ask, turning it in my hands.
"The Plegian healer's Ward staff. We should definitely hang onto it, as they're quite valuable, especially seeing as it's likely that we will face more Grimleal dark mages in the future."
I hold it at my side. "Excellent. Thank you for the report."
He bows slightly. "Please let me know if I can be of further assistance, Robin."
I feel like a giant dickhead.
The one thing, the one thing I didn't want to allow to happen, and I blow it. Looking back on it, it's so obvious to me that I let my emotions get drawn out way too much by the magic, and the tome took the reins. Or, you know, made my emotions take the reins. God I hate this soft-ass science sometimes. The magic capitalized on my anger and blew it up beyond my ability to control it. Was it a moment of power? Sure, I guess, but I also nearly got killed. On top of that, I'm pretty sure I nearly killed Libra, or at least nearly ruined his good looks for life. And then there's the fact that the anger didn't dissipate when I saw that Maribelle was out of immediate danger. It shifted to a desire to punish and avenge, not protect. It's exactly what I didn't want to allow this dark magic training to do to me.
"God damnit," I say to myself as I kick an empty crate to the other wall of the command wagon, just to give my body something to do. I've been hanging out here for a good twenty minutes or so, even though it sounds like the fighting must have stopped a while ago. I'm waiting on something to develop but reluctantly obeying Robin's order that I stay here. I don't think I want to see anyone else right now anyway.
As if to remind me who's boss, the universe sends someone into the wagon the moment that thought crosses my mind.
Before I can say anything, Robin holds up a hand and starts talking. "I know. We don't need to talk much about it. I'm sorry I pressured you to use the tome; from now on, I'll defer to your judgment on what you're ready for. Let's try and leave this behind us as much as possible, alright?"
I do a mental double-take. I thought for sure I was about to get chewed out, or at least be asked to explain myself. Does she not want to even hear it?
"Uh, are you sure? I mean yeah, I want to leave it behind too, but–"
"Look, things got a little out of hand today. I talked a bit with Tharja about what happened, and she doesn't seem to think it's the end of the world. Of course, she's hardly the most stable person, so I'll be taking that with a ladle of salt. But it won't help us to mope or beat ourselves up about it. We just have to keep going. We're not out of the woods yet. Until we get out of Plegia we don't have time to focus on anything else." She crosses over to the table and the wagon shudders into motion. "And gods as my witness, I am getting tired of all these blame games and apologies. Aren't you?"
I move to join her. "When you put it like that, it's hard to disagree."
"We're working with things we aren't familiar with. There will be hiccups. But you'll get better, just like you have with healing techniques. We just have to figure out a sustainable way to do it is all."
At first I'm reluctant to let the matter drop, since I still feel so guilty about losing control. But seeing how sincere she looks helps me relax a bit. I take a deep breath and reorient my mind. I notice something in her hand for the first time since she walked in. "Is that a staff?"
"Oh, this? It's the Ward staff that the Plegian healer was using. I figured you'd be able to make the best use of it," she says, holding it over the table to me.
I take it and feel that familiar tingle in the metal. "I guess. I don't really know how to use one, though. Maybe Libra can show me how it's done."
"That sounds like a good idea. Give you something less… taxing to train with for awhile." She looks a little guilty. Despite her desire to quit with all the apologizing, I can tell she feels like what happened was her fault. It makes me all the more sure that this will be a good course for me to take.
"Exactly. I could do with a less, uh, unusual teacher for a while, I think," I say, giving her a reassuring smile. "And I maintain still that the staff is my true calling, regardless of this new development."
She gives me a look that tells me she knows what I'm up to. She huffs with a tired smile. The door to the wagon opens and Chrom walks in, prompting Robin to resume her more professional air. "In any case, overall we can call today a win," she says. "Small freakouts notwithstanding, and barring the surprise appearance of our friend the Ward healer, we were able to anticipate their moves almost exactly, and the Shepherds responded to orders and adapted skillfully. I'm pleased with our results."
Chrom says what I was thinking too. "Uh, 'we were able'? Robin, that was pretty much all you today."
"I mean, I didn't want to sound like I was boasting," she replies.
"Nice," I say.
"Well? He called me out on it, and I explained myself!" Robin fires back defensively. Chrom and I share a glance. She clears her throat. "Anyway, as I was saying. We were able to collect some supplies from our fallen enemies. We've replenished our arrow supply and then some, so Virion is in a good mood of course. Vulneraries and concoctions were scrounged up as well. Everyone appeared to be generally in high spirits, no doubt both because of the victory today as well as the joy of being in a temperate climate again. I expect we won't see much more opposition from the Plegian military from here to the border, as Plegia is still largely intimidated by Ferox and has so far kept a respectable distance. Of course, we'll need to be prepared for another fight if I'm wrong and they think they can press their luck in the wake of the Feroxi military's expedition south. Even so, with the border guard still installed in place, it's unlikely. I don't like lowering our guard even a little, but I will tentatively suggest that we can relax for now."
"So when we get back to Ferox, what's next for us?" Chrom asks.
"I imagine the first thing we'll want to do is make sure we can retake Ylisstol. Taking the fight to Gangrel is important, but not until we can launch attacks from our own turf. Eventually we will want to retake Themis, as it will not only be familiar territory to a few of our Shepherds, but it will hopefully prove an advantageous point of entry into Plegia. However, we will need to confer with the khans before we make any final calls, as nothing is getting done without the help of their numbers."
So we're going back to Themis, huh? I guess it makes sense strategically, but admittedly I never expected it. I don't know how I feel about it. I was so opposed to going back before, but do I still think that way now? Am I ready to see that place again? Looks like I'm going to find out either way.
"Anyway, I suppose that wraps things up for now." I have no idea what Robin was saying near the end of her plan, but I'd feel silly asking her to repeat it now. Instead I just take my leave and hop out of the moving wagon. If nothing else, it's nice to be walking on green grass and dark soil again.
I'm not on my own for more than a minute or so before I hear a voice behind me. "Randy? If you're finished with your meeting with Robin and Chrom, I would have a word with you."
I look behind me as Maribelle rides Fleur-de-lis up along my left side to join me. She's wearing my absolute favorite expression: unfiltered worry. I sigh internally before addressing her.
"Let me guess. I really freaked you out today and you want to make sure I'm alright," I deadpan.
She huffs. "Well, try not to take it too personally that I worried a little. You were half dead on your feet and didn't seem to know it. But if that's how my concern is rewarded, perhaps I'll find someone else to plague for a while."
"Alright, that was pretty mean. My bad. But really, I'm alright. It's a sharper learning curve than I expected is all."
"You know, this time I'm hardly inclined to blame you for it in the first place. It's that Robin! If I'm not mistaken, it was on her orders that you brought the tome into battle to begin with, correct?"
"Well, I don't know that I'd call it orders per se…" I reply, looking off to the side to avoid meeting her eye. "It was more like a suggestion that I agreed with in the end."
"What's the difference? It's not like you'd ever say no to a suggestion from her either."
"The difference is that I could've if I had wanted to. I was wrong, we both were. Well, actually, all three of us were, if you count Tharja, though I suspect she actually knew something like this might happen. She just didn't care. And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Has there ever been a time where Robin asked you to do something and you didn't do it?" she asks with just a hint of smugness to her tone.
"Well, for one thing, I'm pretty sure she still wants me to take up the lance to train with, which I've refused to this day. And for another, I initially resisted her pushing me to learn dark magic until I could approach it on my own terms. I'm not her servant; I'm her student. And even then, it's more like a collaborative effort most of the time than a teacher-student one," I say, trying to keep my defensive tone under control.
"I see. Perhaps I was mistaken then. Still, the pair of you have been spending a great deal of time together lately. I'm sure you can understand why I'd start thinking she'd used her charms to get you wrapped around her finger."
"As if. That robot wouldn't know how to use her charm to seduce a guy if he came with a written set of instructions."
She mouths the word 'robot' for a moment, taking the word in and presumably working out what it meant by context. "Anyway, it's not my intention to scold you or anything like that. It just feels as though I haven't had a proper conversation with anyone in ages. Even my dear Lissa is so busy lately with taking care of the Exalt that I hardly see her on her own anymore. Of course, it's good that she's taking care of her elder sister, but where does that leave me?"
"You been to see Emmeryn much since Golgotha?" I ask.
"I've taken a few opportunities to check in, but it's a little… I don't know how to say it. The Exalt always seemed so serene and delicate, as if she were made of glass. The way she is now just accentuates that. Pre-cracked glass, if you will. I'm afraid I will do something wrong and upset or even harm her whenever I'm in the room with her. And if she were to get upset, it's not as though she could really tell me what's wrong, is it? I suppose it's all irrational fear on my part, yet I can't shake the nervousness about being around her."
"I can understand that. It's hard to know what you can do for someone in a situation like that. I guess the biggest thing is making sure she's comfortable and keeping on the mend," I reply.
"That's true. And from what Lissa tells me, she is making steady strides toward recovery all the time. That's all we can hope for, don't you think?"
"Yeah. And hell, hopefully just getting out of that damned desert will do her some good. Getting her to a place that looks a little more like home might jog some memories."
"Perhaps. It's been a while since we've been in a place that looks anything like home, that's for sure," she says, looking across the rolling hills toward the east.
I remember something that might improve her mood. "Oh yeah! Robin told me and Chrom that her plan for attacking Plegia will have us retaking Themis to use it as a launch point for our forces at the border. Looks like we'll be going back pretty soon."
"Is that so? That's good news," she replies in a tone that suggests it's not actually that great.
"I think it will be good to get a chance to free your home for good. And since Robin considers it a critical strategic point, we'll have the whole might of Ylisse and Ferox behind us when we retake it. We're gonna win this," I say.
She closes her eyes and takes a breath. When her eyes open again, she's wearing a tentative smile. "Of course. As apprehensive as I may be about seeing my home again after what happened, as long as I have the Shepherds with me, I think I can do it."
It's a little hard to tell if she means it or if she's just acting for my benefit, but either way I decide to take her at face value.
"I know you can."
"Well hello there, Mister Randall."
"Oh hell, more of this?"
"What, did you think that you'd seen the last of me?"
"I'll admit, I was kinda hoping, yeah."
"Typical, leaving a job half-done is very much in your character, after all."
"Is this about what happened with the dark magic today? I think I beat myself up about that plenty, don't you?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"What do I have to do to get some goddamn rest, Mindy?"
"Face the things you refuse to acknowledge, obviously. Admit the truth to yourself."
"What truth? What have I denied?"
"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."
"A regular ray of sunshine, as always."
"You're one to talk. I bet that man you kicked into the lake after blasting off his leg drowned down there. Probably struggled for a long time to stay afloat. You didn't even give him the courtesy of a quick death like that healer whose head you evaporated. Do you even know how many people you killed today?"
"Look, it's not like I was completely myself. I've already decided to modify the way I approach this dark magic stuff and slow my roll a good bit. And those guys were going to be killed anyway. This is a war, remember?"
"You seemed like you were having a good bit of fun."
"Are you kidding? I was pissed. I don't think I've ever been so mad in my life."
"Just because you're mad, doesn't mean you weren't having fun. You enjoyed getting that angry. I know it. It was a high you've never experienced before. Mark me, that dark magic is addictive, and it's already got you."
"What am I supposed to say? 'I can stop anytime I want'? This isn't like developing a coke habit or something; getting good at containing and using dark magic will provide a concrete good to the Shepherds. To the world. Regardless of how I might feel when I use this power, using it does not make me a selfish person."
"It does if you use it for a selfish reason."
"But like I said, this is to help people. I want to ultimately save lives if I can."
"So you tell yourself. But don't forget: I see everything going through your mind. I know you. And I'll know when you lie, even to yourself."
Mustafa, musclebound though he may be, can't help but shiver briefly in the chill of the desert night. Even so, his pride won't let him equip a proper coat. Well, that and his gnawing fear that the Plegian military might turn up any moment to accost him and his allies. Even though he encouraged his men to stay behind rather than put their families in danger by deserting as he was, nine of his closest subordinates refused to abandon their general, even at the cost of abandoning the army. He is grateful for their loyalty and for their companionship on the long journey east, but he is equally worried for their safety.
"General," his companion at the front of the group calls back to Mustafa, "there is a light up ahead. Should we circle south to avoid them?"
"If we go much further south, we will end up either having to pass through the most burdensome portion of the Morzas Mountains, or worse, end up at the Dragon's Table. We can try to divert slightly south to pass unseen, but I fear that is the best we can do without simply turning around and fleeing," Mustafa replies.
And so the group, moving as quietly as possible, proceeds southeast, praying that whatever group is up ahead is either friendly or unobservant. The vastness of the desert, however, means they must also be quick, or else the light of the morning sun will betray them unless they are far beyond the horizon by then. As a result, the group struggles to find a balance between stealth and speed.
For hours the group toils, hurrying along and keeping a nervous eye on the lights to their north, knowing that if the military ever learned of their location, there is little hope in a place like this for escape. Slowly, slowly, the group passes the lights and starts putting some distance between them. The group breathes a collective sigh of relief.
Then, a flash of light splits the night in two, and the man at the front of the pack collapses to the sand. Before anyone can properly react, two more are felled by a volley of arrows that come seemingly from nowhere.
Fighting the urge to panic, the remaining companions charge forward at the battalion of Plegian army men. However, they have already been routed. While Mustafa's men were distracted by the lights and their goal of sneaking past them, the Plegians had laid low in the dark, waiting for their prey to divert south and walk into the middle of their trap. Arrows and swords and magic intermingle to dispatch nearly all of Mustafa's companions in a matter of moments. The former general himself is forced to surrender in short order. His axes falls with a lackluster whump to the sand.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" a familiar voice drawls. That explains the flash of light, then. King Gangrel points his Levin sword casually at Mustafa's throat. "A general of the Plegian army, abandoning his post? Skulking about in the dead of night? Truly, a shameful display. I'm disappointed, Mustafa."
"Your Highness," Mustafa regards Gangrel as politely as his anger will allow him. "That's nine more lives that didn't need to be lost. Lives of good men, caring men. Men that a nation should be built on. The nation we could have built if you'd only listened to me and seen the light of peace."
"Peace, peace, peace, it's all you insects chirp about. Without ever knowing what real peace would cost," Gangrel retorts.
"And what would that be?"
"For as long as there are two people living on this earth, there will not be peace. True peace would only come to this wretched land when there was only one person left living on it. That's peace. You say you want peace, but you don't know what you're asking for. I am content to settle for the peace of the one who wins: subjugation," Gangrel sneers.
"If that's the world you plan to create, then I have no desire to live in it. I imagine most would agree," Mustafa says.
"You don't know the first thing about humans, Mustafa. That's why you lost to me, and that's why I'll win. Because I do understand. People aren't just content with subjugation; most crave it. They love being told what to do and where to go. Every tragedy in the world is caused by people that don't understand what people really want. What they're really like. And that's why I'll win." He lowers his sword as the other men in his entourage manacle Mustafa's hands behind his back. "And that's why we're taking you back. First to get a little bit of information out of you regarding the whereabouts of your co-conspirators, then to make a bit of a spectacle out of you. In the meantime, we'll have some propaganda drummed up about you, make sure the public is in a nice froth by the time we announce that we've captured you. By then I won't even need to formally execute you. I'll just release you to the crowd and let them do the work. It'll be a good bit of fun, I imagine, watching a traitor to his motherland receive his just desserts."
"The only traitor to Plegia here is you, Gangrel. And I have faith that my countrymen will see that in the end," Mustafa growls.
"I suppose we'll find out, won't we? In any event, here's a taste of what's coming." Picking Mustafa's axe up off the ground, Gangrel swings it around and hits his captive in the knee with the blunt end, making it buckle in. Mustafa howls in pain and collapses to the ground.
Gangrel grins as he stands over Mustafa. "Oh goodness, I didn't mean to hit that hard. Let me fix you up, Mustafa." He unstraps a healing staff from his back and points it at the shattered leg. As the healing magic forces the ex-general's leg back into shape, the man can't help but shout in pain all over again.
"You're in for a hell of a time, Mustafa," Gangrel says as his men force Mustafa to his feet again. "Get him out of my sight. And make sure these others are really dead before we leave," he orders the soldiers beside him. "I won't allow a single traitor to get away. This country deserves a king who can unite his people under one cause. And I'm going to give it to them."
A/N: Translator's note: keikaku means plan
So picture this with me. It's the week of Thanksgiving, and I'm on break from classes. I think to myself, "Ah yes, I will definitely use this time to get some writing done. I'll probably have a chapter ready by the end of the week!" And then I do in fact do some writing. But then,
Black Friday arrives,
and my local video game outlet has a Nintendo Switch on sale. So I
buy
it.
And then I played Breath of the Wild for basically a month straight. And just when that hype was starting to chill, of course SSBU hits as well, and then I had to get gud with Chrom. Also finals and other real life stuff, but mostly Zelda and Chromdaddy. So that's what I've been up to. Anyway, hope this was worth the inordinate wait! It took a lot of reworking (and the erasure of like 1200 words' worth of scene at one point) to make it where I wanted it to be.
As always, I need to thank those who help keep my work ship-shape! Syntaxis is on hiatus, so I hope she is doing well, but having Mixed Valence (and my roommate, who just joined the site under the username NotTheArchitect) look over my work and give it the thumbs-up is always a relief before I release the beast. And now, to mix things up, here is your Mixed Valence out of context quote of the week: "Dunno if I'm reading my hasubando well enough but I think he's a single malt Scotch kind of guy."
I'll be leaving the poll regarding characters and cover ideas up for another chapter before making my final tally, as there are three or four strong contenders for the second place position (any guesses on who firmly occupies number one?). I'm still looking for an artist that could make such a cover happen, so if you have referrals I'd love to receive them!
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!