Note: This is my first Fan Fiction for Fire Emblem, so I'm sorry that it's not that great ^^; Also, I have never played Fuuin no Tsurugi, so some of the made up elements in this story may not be a hundred percent accurate.
-Dark Flame-
(C) Fire Emblem
Original ideas copyrighted to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems
Fan Fiction by Becki
Chapter Two: Departure
The arrow soared like the hawk on the plains, sharp, and true. It sung a high pitched tune as it whistled through the light atmosphere, spinning freely and in control. The point landed and dug itself deep slightly off center of the crudely constructed target. The shot was clean and strikingly accurate, and although the target was not so far from the archer, it was yet admirable. The archer lowered his small bow, the young boy of the Kutolah tribe.
The wind swept through the grass, the cool breath caressing his face, teasingly playing with the strands of his dark emerald shaded hair. Laya stood by, sharp gaze critically searching for any sign of error on the target. She stood up and a smile slowly touched her lip.
"Impressive. Deep into the hours of the eve and in such darkness your bow still shoots straight. You are truly of the Kutolah tribe." The children were expected to learn to shoot at a young age to train their skills at the bow. They were taught to ride swiftly to learn to hunt and bring food for the people.
The youth said nothing, but he did turn to look at her in a way which said that he did not necessarily understand. But one thing about this boy was that he was never afraid to make eye contact with anybody, his gaze was always fixed, eyes true. Laya shivered suddenly and crossed her arms, each elbow in the cup of the opposite hand. "And it is late. It is wise to get rest. You are expected.. to leave when the day is still young..." She paused, and looked away, breaking the eye contact.
"......" Rath said nothing. He did nothing. He only stared with dark eyes in a sad expression.
They shared silence for a few moments more. He turned again, and took up another arrow. He strung it and pulled back tightly, the shaft hard against the bow's frame. After he had nocked it, he aimed the arrow at the target once more. Pulling back on the string with two nimble fingers, he narrowed his eyes. As if from nowhere, the diviner's words echoed once again in his mind.
A dark flame.. burning... consuming... He frowned as he thought. What.. what does this mean..?
He let go.
The arrow sped away from his bow with a gasp. In a jagged dance it dipped down and struck the target with a thud. The arrow's shaft struck the perfect center of the target, and the bright feathers still trembled with the force. Laya turned as she heard the sharp release of his bowstring, and guided her vision toward the target. The wind rustled again, and all was silent.
Laya sat near the edge of the ger, sitting cross-legged near the entrance. She watched Rath's sleeping form in the furs well away from the fire. She sighed coarsely and leaned back on the stake which supported the tent. Her hair was unbraided and wavy from its knotted captivity, gleaming with dark bluish-green tresses. She continued to worry. How could she not? It was had been her duty to watch the chieftain's son, to teach him and protect him. Her distrust for the soothsayer had not changed.
The diviner had spoken of Rath's apparent 'destiny'. To fight against the fires, against this trouble. It was not only vague, but ridiculous. Rath would only fight against loneliness and.. rejection. A boy who was barely even four. Then Laya felt a twinge of guilt and betrayal for thinking these thoughts. Although Rath was but a child... there was undoubtedly something different about him. His ability to handle a bow could outmatch any of the other Kutolah children, he could shoot straighter and even ride faster. But.. was this enough..? Doubt lingered her mind like the dark clouds in a heavy storm.
The sunlight leaked into the tent, through the crack exposed by the flap of the entrance. Laya did not know how long she had been sitting there, deep into the realm of her thoughts. She could feel the warm heat of the rising sunrays on her back, and she saw the dead ashes in the pit where the fire had been. She closed her eyes tightly and frowned.
"Mother earth.. why must things be this way..? Father Sky, have you no pity?"
"Laya!" She jerked up anxiously, her hair falling into her face. The voice was like none she knew, for it sounded neither like a female or male voice. Quickly she stood up and clumsily made her way outside. Stepping out on the dry grass, she looked apprehensively for the person who had called her.
But there was no one. Puzzled, she was to retreat back inside. Something stopped her as her eyes strayed across the horizon. Turning she saw the rising sun over the animated plains. Her frown relaxed and the wind returned as a soft whisper against her ears.
"....."
"Laya!" She flinched again, this time upon hearing the strong commanding tone of a rough male voice. Turning she saw that a young man had called her name. He seemed irritated, his face clearly betraying the weariness he had. She instantly recognized him as the apprentice of the diviner.
"Yes?"
"The diviner advises that you prepare Master Rath for his departure."
"But it is still early.."
"Do what you have been ordered."
"...." She frowned slightly, but held back her flailing tongue. "Very well." She said swallowing her pride. For irony she bowed her head and went back inside slowly with mock respect. When she was sure he had gone, she uttered a sigh and turned towards the sleeping boy. Approaching him she bent by his side and shook him gingerly by the shoulder, whispering softly.
"Rath... awake, it is morning." He opened his eyes with a distant look. It was so gently done that he seemed almost to have been awake the whole time. She stood up with a melancholy expression on her face. "It is time.." Without a word he got up on one elbow. Laya took his quiver down from the wall as Rath washed silently. When she turned around again, he was folding the blankets and furs. For one who understood so little, there was some sort of innocence in his gestures and limited words.
The sun ripened quickly and shed its light. Rath pulled on a dark colored bandana over his head so the edge just lined up with his forehead. Stray strands of hair fell down despite the headband and fell into the hollow of his brow. Laya braided her thick hair into the usual single plait, and it fell down her back. Rath took his short bow along with his quiver and left the tent before she did.
Outside the nomads were already ready to move their things. Some came out to dismantle their tents. There had been a lack of game, and the Tribe was to move. It was unexpected that Rath would also leave, but he was not expected to travel with them. He seemed so small among them. In the borders of the Kutolah camp, it was always safe, a haven where nothing of pain nor hatred was known. Rath stood their motionless and wordless, watching his people move about and work.
He brushed his forehead with the back of his hand and turned his attention toward the horses grazing nearby in the fence specially built to be put up and taken apart easily and quickly. They wandered carefully, graceful necks bent in an arc toward the ground. As Rath looked on, he saw a child near the fencepost. The child was perhaps a year old, but had already learned to crawl and wander from his mother. He could easily fit under the first rack on the fence, out into the area where the horses fed. Rath dropped his bow and quiver near the tent, getting ready for something that he was sure would happen.
The boy slid under the quickly erected fence, entranced by these large creatures that were just beyond him. He sat for a few seconds, staring curiously at the horses. Then he crawled towards the dark gray one closest to him, large eyes reflecting curiosity. The horse jerked unsteadily as it saw the babe approach, but continued to graze warily and peacefully.
Until the boy got too close.
The child grabbed the horse's long tail in an attempt to hoist himself up. The horse reared violently with a shriek and the other horses turned in a panicking manner at the racket. The shrilly cries of the horses struck the child's sensitive ears. He looked around with blurry vision at the fray, wondering what was happening. He fell and let go of the tail, but the horse was not done. Heavy hooves pounded blindly on the ground in fright.
"Hya!" Came the loud order. In a flash Rath stood inside of the fence, an arm spread wide with a commanding gesture. His voice was familiar to the stallion, and it ceased instantly. The child's first instinct was what he did. He began to bawl, crying in confusion and the sharp movement the horses had made. Rath pressed a thumb on the horse's face, his small palm curled around the horse's mouth in a calming motion. Rath watched the child for a few seconds before a woman came into the picture.
"Guy!" She cried out, her face red and arms white from wringing. Opening the gate she stooped up her child who was still crying. "What did you think you were doing?" She scolded. The child buried his face in his mother's shoulder, crying no less louder. She turned and looked to Rath, and her face changed. He stared back vaguely, his hands still on the horse's muzzle.
"Rath! By the stars, where did you run off to?" The chieftain's son didn't move even as he heard Laya call him. The child's mother felt uncomfortable. She seemed to want to say something, but instead, left through the gate nervously as Laya came in, holding Rath's bow and quiver. Laya looked at the mother who left hurriedly in a perplexed manner, but then fixed her gaze on Rath. The Kutolah boy looked back at the gray stallion, stroking his muzzle. Laya pursed her lips.
"......" Rath parted his touch from the horse and came towards her. Silently he closed the gate and took the bow and arrows from her. Laya let out a slow breath. For reasons even she did not know, Rath almost frightened her at times. She followed him closely behind, steps heavy with the burden of worry. Her facial expression held none of her thoughts, but she was not willing to let anybody see her at such a weak state. And she remembered that strange voice which had called her name just after daybreak..
"Rath." She said suddenly. The boy stopped and Laya came up to him quickly. She touched his shoulder and pressed her own bow into his hands, taking his short one which was no more than a toy. She kneeled down to his level and started to speak. "You may not remember this event. Your mind is still a fresh and awaiting new memories. But you must remember this; You are a son of the Kutolah. Even when some are prepared to abandon you, you must remember where the boundaries of loyalty lie. This is your bow." She spoke formally, and knew that he would not understand. He stared at the bow that Laya had given him. It was her own bow, her favorite sleek edge soft against his soft fingers. Yet, although it may have been considered short for an adult, it was more than half as big as he was.
When stood and looked up again, she saw a large crowd of people at the edge of camp. Laya gently pushed Rath in the shoulder in a gesture motioning him to approach it. Rath made no hesitant pauses or motions. He kept going at a steady pace, gaze fixed ahead.
A few people at the edge of the crowd turned to see him, and a wave of murmurs expanded. The crowd parted as he came through, but closed again, forcing Laya away. Rath barely noticed that he had lost her in the crowd, but Laya did not call him or do anything of the kind. Ahead the diviner sat at the ground, eyes closed. He wore a the top jaw of a wolf over his head, the gray hide falling upon his frail back. The wolf's fangs closed over his forehead just beyond his eyes, giving him the mystifying appearance as it also signified his status in the tribe.
The crowd did not cease their conversation, and the whispering gave an unnerving message of distrust to Rath. The boy looked about plainly confused. The diviner opened his misty eyes and looked at the boy. This young boy no older than a child, armed with a bow almost bigger than he, with arrows sharp enough to pierce his frail skin upon the lightest contact. This boy who had been seen in the future etched in the images of the dancing stars. No, this child did not understand. But he did not need to.
Rath felt fear seep inside himself, but his emotionless act refused to let it escape. He looked around at the unfamiliar faces only to confirm that his father was not there. He was to slip another glance in search of Chief Dayan, but the diviner stood up and took up his staff. But Rath did not look him in the eye like he usually did. The diviner's apprentice came through the parting crowds with the same gray stallion that had nearly trampled on the baby boy earlier. The horse had been prepared for the journey. The saddle was neatly placed as the bit was fit into the animal's teeth and the reins tight.
"Do you accept your destiny, Rath of the Kutolah?" The diviner's voice was like the sly cold wind against the swaying grass of the Sacae plains. Rath said nothing at first, unable to answer as he was still confused.
He closed his eyes and listened as he sought the right words. And from no where, he found them.
"I am ready."