-Dark Flame-
(C) Fire Emblem
Original ideas copyrighted to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems
Fan Fiction by Becki
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Six years later...
Chapter Five: Mercenary of the Plains
The border against Sacae and Bern was at its usual peaceful surrounding. The mountains of caverns home to wyverns and the plains with their herds and tribes. There was a city below the border where the travelers came to take their lodging for the resting night with a working day before them. Some things never changed.. but.. unfortunately, fate takes drastic turns for the unexpected.
A gray horse waited beside a tree, its reins tied to a low branch. It waited patiently, eyes darting back and forth, tail flipping in the breeze. A blanket folded over its back with a worn saddle over, a few pouches and a long quiver tied to the side. A short bow fit inside along with the freshly fledged arrows. The horse blinked a couple of times as the gnats swarmed in the warm, humid air. Beyond this horse were others, grazing and waiting for something of some kind.
A boy sat beside the tree next to the stallion. A boy perhaps of ten or more years. His face was hard unlike many of the boys his age, a solemn expression depicting a difficult childhood. But his face was clearly those of a nomad's. Eyes as deep as the heavens and hair as vibrant and green as the lush grass of the waving fields.
Even so, his clothes were not the light attire decorated with triangular shapes, the garb so fond of the tribes. He wore a simple green jacket with a brown cloak. An orange bandana lined in yellow was tied over his hairline just over his eyes into a tight knot at the back of his cranium. Silver rings fit on both of his ears, and his arms were covered with fingerless gloves.
Six long years had passed since he was abandoned to a search that had been unsuccessfully fruitless. But he was not the child he once was. True, he was still alone and rejected by the other peoples of Elibe, but it was beginning to be a daily routine for him. His skill with the bow had not faltered at the least, for it had improved drastically. Now that he was old enough, he could pull the bow all the way back for it's fullest potential. But his clothing had been replaced with the crudely stitched tunic he had just been able to buy from a poor tailor.
The stallion snickered, his head tossed in warning. The boy stood up and pat the steed's neck, fingers combing through the tangled mane.
A young red-haired man approached them the reins of his own creme colored horse at hand, a lance in his other. A sheathe occupied with a sword dangled against the elegant saddle, signifying this soldier's class as a cavalier.
"You're the new mercenary, correct?" He asked with an honest grin. He seemed a few more years older than this archer of Sacae. His horse was a young mare, bright in the sun's glare.
"Yes." The boy replied, his gloved hand under the gray stallion's chin. The cavalier brushed a strand of red hair from his eyes, his grin drastically different from the boy's expressionless face.
"They said you were young, but I didn't think this young. Still, they said that you have a good hand at the bow. What's your name?"
"...Rath."
"Well met Rath, the name's Calen. I'm a cavalier in your same mercenary group."
"....." Rath merely nodded, and continued to give most of his attention to the horse. After speaking to no one for years and tending only to himself and the stallion, there really was no need to sharpen any conversational skills.
"We'll be heading out to the village that has offered to hire our services. Are you used to long journeys?" Calen said, balancing his lance from one hand to the next. Rath silently untied the reins and mounted the stallion without hesitating and with no blunder. The horse had grown agreeable through the years and used to Rath's silence.
"I can ride faster than most men." He said finally. Perhaps the cavalier thought this as pure boasting, but it was the truth. Calen raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so? Well.." He turned back toward the other horses where the other mercenaries also rested. "I shall give the leader our consent." He also mounted his mare and rode down with a trot.
Rath stared over the hills. The mercenary group was being slowly roused by Calen, and they got up to prepare themselves and their weapons for the journey. As soon as he had join the group, the men were weary of him, thinking he would only be a nuisance. But he had learned much over the years, seen things a ten-year old would never be expected to see.
The gray stallion wandered on its own, with no guidance from the rider. Rath leaned back in the saddle and looked through the curtain of his green bangs.
Whatever came to him, he would always be ready.
Nothing could ever catch him off guard anymore.
The other mercenaries stared at Rath as he passed them by with a medium sized bird in his grasp. The gray stallion snickered as they stared. Rath said nothing and put his bow away, tucking it into his quiver. His hunting was improving, but he always sought to be better.
He was to turn to the solitary tree in the field when Calen called and invited the boy over. Not caring for company but not minding it either, he led the stallion down with the group sitting by the fire. They had made good traveling during the day, and Rath had most definitely proven his strong comment of being able to ride swiftly.
As Rath dismounted, one of the men took the fowl from him, offering to cook it. The Kutolah boy shrugged and sat down at the far end of the ring. Calen offered him food, and Rath willingly took upon his offer. As they ate and conversed among each other, they tried to include him into the conversation.
"You're from Sacae, eh?" A burly axe-fighter grunted, large hands polishing the blade of his large axe. "I recall the sights.. It was nothing but a grass-covered wasteland, if you ask me."
"Ha!" A slim archer replied on the opposite side of the fire. "You don't want t'say that in front of the nomads. They take much pride in their lands."
"As do we." Calen interrupted patiently on Rath's behalf. "If one of Bern had dared to insult Etruria or even perhaps Lycia, do you think it would be taken lightly?"
"Lycian nobles have their heads up too high." The fighter retorted with an irritated sigh.
"A man without their pride is no different from a warrior without weapon." A mercenary replied, agreeing with Calen as he touched the edge of his sword.
"...is pride a strength or a weakness?" They all looked surprised as they all turned to look down on Rath after he had spoken these words. But he looked into the fire as he spoke. "Those who are blinded with it see nothing."
As if they had expected that he was not listening, they continued to stare. But he said nothing more. He spoke with confidence and had strong words. No innocence left from childhood or curiosity in his instincts. The chill wind grazed his skin as he picked a blade of grass. His silence came back as quickly as it had vanished.
Next morning they began to prepare for the continuation of their journey. After a shaky breakfast, Rath went out early to practice his archery. He had always preferred the morning over night, and because he had lived to watch only over himself, he was always alert.
Free to venture away from camp, he let the stallion run through the field. Bent over the saddle and hands loose on the reins, the winds at the sides of his face were cool and damp. Dew flew from the horse's hooves, like drops of rain falling and shining.
As he entered the forest, he was mindful of the branches, but a few low ones narrowly missed his face, scratching his ear. Ignoring it for the time, he reached in his quiver for a crudely fledged arrow. After pulling out his short bow, he ran his fingers over the familiar shaft. Preparing the arrow against the bow's frame, he aimed at the trees.
Each time he pulled back the string, the bow sung as the arrow screeched. As the arrows with their blunted ends struck the trees, the harmless ends caught between the creases of the bark. Every so often his aim missed the target, but he moved on as the horse moved abruptly.
After ten minutes of the same ritual, Rath ran out of his training arrows. After he slowed the horse, the gray stallion turned in a wide arc. Rath gave his order with a light kick against the saddle, and the horse began to walk slowly back.
After Rath had retrieved most of the arrows, his quiver was almost three-fourths of the way full again. Unable to find any more, he gave up his search and resolved to make more. Usually he lost a little less than half arrows, which usually signified the number of which had missed their target and had been lost on the forest floor.
Satisfied with his improvement, he gave the horse permission to return to camp.
As he descended from the edge of the forest, he had returned the bow into the quiver. When he raised his gaze, he saw with a start there was smoke among the tents.
And he could hear distant shouting. Quick to act, he flung out the reins and the stallion bolted forward at a steady pace upon the order.
There were men. Heavy built men with axes and other weapons covered in blood. Men he had never seen before. Muscular arms and bare chests. Long tangled hair and messy faces.
And they were attacking, fearlessly and yet carelessly ready to hack at whatever came their way. He could see the men he had conversed with the night before fighting against these strangers. As he searched for Calen, he realized that his real arrows were still in the camp. The quiver he took with him was only of practice's purpose.
And with many arrows missing anyway, he was at fate's sharp point.
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Myahahaha ^__^ Rath's first battle experience ^^;
Yeah, he seems really mature, doesn't he? Well, if he was a mature four year old, he can be a mature ten year old too! Kyahaha ^__^
Yeah, this chapter kinda went downhill -_o