Crossroads of the Heart
Author's Note:
Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
Chapter 11: Winds of Ill Fortune
It's an odd feeling, to take a step back and examine your life from an objective point of view -- or at least, from a point of view as free of bias as it can be, considering -- and realize you have no idea how you came about your current situation. One moment, you are caught in a whirlwind, making decision after decision, never considering the sum effect each of this small choices will have on you in the future; the next, the whirlwind dissipates, the chaos becomes clarity, and you are left alone and directionless, in a land populated with hopeless souls like yourself, each of you lost and alone, each of you as bewildered as the next... how did I get here? Where am I going?
The second question was perhaps of greater import than the first, for he had always been a firm believer in laying the past to rest -- he couldn't change that. It was only in the most morbid times, when his thoughts strayed to the darkest corners of his mind, that he dwelled on that. So much had happened... perhaps if he had done some things differently...
His first mistake, of course, had been on the Dread Isle. He had made decisions there he had never stopped regretting; he had been foolish to fall in love, to pursue his heart despite the obvious lack of reciprocation. His frustration in these respects had led to larger mistakes, though at the time he had been so blinded by his disappointment that he had not even stopped to consider who he was hurting... or that the one he was doing the greatest disservice to might, in fact, be himself.
Returning to Etruria had been fine, at least, until Lord Pent and Lady Louise had announced their retirement. That event had heralded his second great mistake; he could have had that job, could have succeeded his mentor and greatest hero... could have had everything he had ever aspired for. Except the love of his life, that is, but he refused to traverse that train of thought for the thousandth time this hour. The point was, the people of Etruria, after expressing their shock and disapproval over Pent and Louise's decision, had turned to him as their new Mage General; a fitting choice -- he was, after all, Pent's closest and most favored student.
He recalled thinking, even as he turned them down, if Priscilla would have been impressed with him had he accepted. She had refused him as a humble but somewhat talented mage, spurned him as a far more experienced and perhaps even fearsome sage... would she have the gall to turn her back on the Mage General of Etruria?
No... best not to think on that. He had turned them down because he honestly did not think himself worthy of the position. He still had so much to learn... and his recent travels had unlocked another sort of passion he had not known he entertained. Lord Pent had been so busy, so preoccupied in the fight against Nergal... else he surely would have been the best man to take on the duty of mentor in the ways of anima magic. Yet, as the situation did not allow for that, Erk had taken it upon himself; first with Priscilla, then with that little girl, Nino... both amazing magic users, who could easily surpass himself given enough time and practice, no doubt...
Again, his thoughts had turned to her. Priscilla. She had truly been amazing. He had smiled, so coldly, when the reports of the scandal from the Caerleon House had reached the Etrurian rumor mills. It had been just as he expected. Did she regret her decision now?
No more of that.
Rather than succeeding Lord Pent, he had chosen instead to further his study of magic... he had drowned himself in his studies. This time, Lady Louise was not present to periodically interrupt him, to ensure he took care of himself... it was a wonder he hadn't killed himself inadvertently. He had been determined to pursue his newfound interest in teaching, though he sometimes wondered if it had been the pupils more than the teaching itself he remembered so fondly. If he could only gain more knowledge, more peerage, perhaps... a bit more acclaim...
He had thought to found a school, perhaps, for aspiring mages. There were a few scattered throughout Etruria, but his dreams far surpassed anything they had to offer. A magic teacher... he found he thought that role suited him well.
It became increasingly clear, however, that he could not stay in Etruria... despite his constant refusal, their demands never ceased; he could find no peace. Thus, he had left, but the third mistake he had made lay in the fact that he had left with absolutely no direction in mind. He had his ambition, but he would need more knowledge, more resources to make that happen. He could have asked Lord Pent, but... he was tired of relying on him and Louise. So tired.
He could find no rest.
His life here on these forsaken borderlands had been laughably directionless, but he found some solace in the fact that he could play some small part in warding the pitiable people of these towns from frequent raiding parties, baseless and shallow attacks that happened far too often... but how long had he been here, playing this ultimately pointless role?
Here, then, he had reached another crossroad; a point where his decision would likely have a major effect on his life... would this be his fourth mistake? He recognized the man he had been watching for the better part of an hour, slyly making his way among the tavern's patrons, picking those with the brightest eyes in a sea of dull, dead, directionless gazes to make his inquiries with.
Matthew. That Ostian spy... that aloof, smirking thief...
Erk pulled his hood more firmly about his face, bringing the cup of now-cold, bitter tea he had been nursing for so long now to his lips. He hardly tasted it, which was probably for the best.
Lyn directed her gaze at the rotting structures gathered before them, splintered beams stacked on sagging stone columns, with not a soul in sight. Perhaps this place had been a town once; if not thriving, then at least in livable condition. It was fitting that the Taliver Bandits would base themselves somewhere so devoid of hope. They would do this to as many places as they could... drive out the townspeople, ransack their homes, raze, burn, pillage... then take up residence as though the hollow husk of a town were some sort of sick trophy. Lyn felt fury rising in her again.
"You're certain this is the place?" She directed her inquiry at Matthew, who crept nearby, even his trademark smirk absent in the face of such devastation.
"No doubt about it!" He quipped, still sounding cheerful despite his subdued expression.
Lyn nodded. He hadn't let them down yet. Caution, then, was the theme of today's exploits; her eyes wandered carefully across the landscape, and around her she could sense her companions doing the same. If the Taliver Bandits really were based here, they had likely seen them coming by now; they were unfortunately fighting on unfamiliar ground, on their home turf. An ambush was likely, but they would not be wholly unprepared. They had dealt with much worse in the not so distant past.
Lyn glanced behind her, still somewhat uneasy -- Matthew had reported in a shockingly unconcerned tone earlier that day that they were being followed; by whom, he could not say, nor was he certain of their intentions. A unknown foe at their backs could complicate matters, but there was no choice but to press on...
"Still so concerned with what lies at our backs?"
"Rath... only a little."
"...I do not like this place," the nomad continued in his soft tone, casting a wary eye about their surroundings. "The wind here whispers of nothing but ill fortune..."
"It will continue to do so until the disease that has infected these lands has been purged," Lyn replied fiercely, her hand wandering almost subconsciously to the hilt of the famed Mani Katti, the revered Sword of Sacae.
"Perhaps it is as you say," Rath murmured thoughtfully, then lapsed into silence once more.
She was all but certain it was. There were plenty of bandit tribes, certainly, but... none were so ruthless, so abhorrent, so devoid of human qualities as the Taliver. Surely when their task here was complete, the situation of this area would improve... Lyn could feel the foreboding wind herself, hear the lamenting whispers in those gusts... her face set into a mask of resolve, of stubborn determination. Things would change, beginning today.
Her well trained Sacaen senses detected the slightest hint of sound, and she saw in her peripheral vision Rath snapping his attention in the same direction as she, proving it had not been imagined. Her sword lifted from its sheath with ease, glinting in the early afternoon sun, outdone perhaps only by the flashing in her own eyes. Had that been the sound of footfalls, traipsing with practiced but ultimately fruitless caution across ruined cobblestone roads?
"Who--"
"Sssh!" Rath hissed from beside her, surprising her into silence. She cast a surprised and curious look in his direction, what was he... even as she watched, he took his bow in hand, an arrow nocked and ready to fire in a single blur of motion.
These actions hardly went unnoticed by the remainder of their party, who immediately readied themselves for battle; the sound of steel unsheathing and the rustling of nervous Pegasus wings reached her ears, yet there was no further noise from the area before them. She held her breath; the tension in the air reaching stifling heights.
"...Who is it that's foolish enough to strut 'round this area?" A gruff voice, an emerging figure. Lyn released her breath in a rush, keeping a careful eye on the approaching man. He stepped into plain view, arms crossed, a wicked looking axe strapped at his side. His face was covered in scars and streaked with dirt, his clothes torn and muddied... the very picture of villainy in these parts. She was not surprised to note several missing teeth as he continued his speech, grinning in a most disconcerting way. "Wif an army, no less! Look at 'er... you runnin' this crusade, missy?"
Lyn felt his eyes on her, felt indignation welling within her at his words.
"...Tell me," She spoke calmly, holding the Mani Katti at the ready, her voice cold. "Are you of the Taliver villains said to inhabit these parts?"
The man guffawed most unexpectedly, his brash laughter almost making her wince. She could make no inferences as to whether he was or not based on this reaction, though either way she found she could barely stay her hand in light of this man's demeanor. He arms trembled with the desire to cut him down, to end his grating laughter on the spot. How many had he slaughtered? How many corpses had he looked upon, created by his own blade? Had he laughed this way at that sight, too?
"Taliver!" He continued, still shaking with laughter. "I ne'er thought I'd be hearin' anymore people nosin' about here lookin' for them!"
"Then you are not?"
"Bit out o' the loop, aren't we, missy?" He patronized her, his grin turning her stomach sour. "The Taliver are gone! Disappeared o'ernight, they did!" He cackled in that borderline insane way, before continuing his tale. "Good riddance to 'em, I say!" He spat in a foul manner to show his distaste, raising an eyebrow in her direction.
"To where?" Lyn inquired, surprised at how calm she still managed to sound.
"Are you listenin' to me?" He frowned, peering at her from across the long gap between them. "They ain't gone nowhere, 'cept maybe to Hell, dependin' on your ideas..." He laughed again. "Stories say Elimine 'erself grew a little tired o' their posturin' and sent an iron giant straight from the heavens to crush the whole lot!"
"What..." Lyn paused, unsure she had heard correctly. "Then they're..."
"Dead!" The filthy man before them exclaimed jovially. "Dead 'n gone, 'n now you're struttin' your pretty face on the territory of the Ganelon Bandits!"
The Ganelon Bandits. That sounded familiar... Lyn frowned. Hadn't they been the ones who had caused all of those problems for her before? The ones who had been harassing Florina?
"...I see," Lyn spoke slowly, her mind reeling with this new information. "Then there is no reason for you to die here today."
She backed away, fully intending to leave it at that, despite her almost overwhelming desire to attack, to find some retribution.
"You think you're just gonna turn 'round and leave?" The man called after her, sounding almost incredulous. "Condolences, miss, but it's far too late for that!"
Lyn paused, taking a breath to calm herself.
"Don't be foolish," She snapped back.
"Foolish is walkin' right into 'ere, with three fine Pegasi fit for the market, and a gaggle o' pretty faces along wi' em!" He laughed back, pulling his axe free in a surprisingly smooth motion. "'Sides, if word got out we let a catch like you walk away..." He grinned fiercely, and Lyn glared back at him. She would enjoy ending his life, if that was how he wanted it. "We can't have that!"
"Fine," Lyn spat, pointing her blade in his direction.
"A fiesty one!" He mocked her, backing away with a wink that made her shudder with revulsion. "You know what to do, men!" He shouted, his voice booming across the ruined landscape, echoing in the abandoned alleys of the dead township they dared to call their home. "Kill the men, but no harmin' the merchandise! Least, try not to leave a scar!"
"...We've dealt with worse than this," Lyn spoke quietly, though she was sure everyone heard her. "Let's get this over with quickly."
Rath nodded at her side, and she saw Matthew's grin of approval just before he slipped out of her peripheral sight. The others were behind her, and even as she observed the area around them that would serve as their battlefield, their foe came into sight, emerging in numbers that surprised her, but did not afford too much concern. The odds had been worse in the past.
Their ringleader, whoever he had been, had disappeared somewhere ahead for now; Lyn vowed that she would be the one to find him, to bring him down. They would have to fight their way through, it seemed.
The first thing she noticed was that the majority of their foes were axe-wielders; powerful, but inaccurate, and likely no match for her swordplay. She was not foolish enough to charge them outright, preferring to let them come to her, to dispatch them when they came to close. She reflected as her sword flashed before her, almost of its own accord, that something seemed odd about this fight; it took her several minutes to realize that she usually had Hector by her side... he had always been there, reassuring her with his presence.
She frowned, knowing this wasn't exactly the best time to be thinking about him. Rath shot her a curious look, perhaps sensing her sudden lapse in concentration -- he had always been quick to notice things like that. Lyn returned his questioning gaze with a reassuring nod, turning her attention to a knot of axemen to her right; she immediately saw they were targeting Florina, who hovered close to the ground, oblivious of the danger behind her. Lyn shouted a warning, rushing to attack; she heard the pounding of hooves behind her as Rath rushed to follow her.
As she intercepted them, her sword flying in blurred strokes, she noted Kent and Fiora approaching from the left; likely Fiora had noticed her sister's plight, and Kent had probably heard her shouts. Florina lifted higher into the air, deftly dodging a clumsily thrown handaxe. So far, they had no problems... these men were laughable prey compared to the more skilled of Nergal's morphs they had defeated in Ostia, and on the Dread Isle.
Still, they were a stubborn lot, and Lyn felt herself tiring as time wore on. They were vastly outnumbered; a situation she had been expecting, but apparently had not entirely prepared for. Even so, she pressed grimly on, keeping a watchful eye out for the man who had met them earlier.
She noticed as well that they seemed to be saving their most skillful fighters for last; the first bunch had been easily dispatched, but it seemed as though each time a new foe appeared, he came with better equipment, and noticeably greater skill; she also warily observed a few warriors with bows strapped to their backs, and hoped Florina and her sisters noticed them as well. One of these was foolish enough to set his sights on her, raising his axe with a leering grin, broad side turned -- clearly the intention here was not to kill, merely to incapacitate. His bewildered expression at the speed with which she dodged his blow might have been comical if it were not so quickly replaced with a look of pain -- and hatred -- as she ended yet another life with her blade.
It was not the same as killing morphs, soulless beings, however much she hated these men. She quickly quelled her regret -- the first pangs she had felt so far -- and turned to observe a sudden clatter at her side, where she knew Rath sat stolidly upon his horse, bringing down from afar those unfortunate enough to catch his eye. He had wandered off a good distance from her, aiding Matthew and Sain, who seemed to be flanking Serra in a protective manner; Lyn noted that however much Matthew whined about it, he never shirked the duties that were his.
As she watched, a particularly fearsome warrior broke away from where he had been engaged in close combat with Sain -- sporting several bleeding wounds for his trouble, she saw -- charging toward Rath with a blood chilling war cry on his lips and a frenzied look in his eye that sent a shiver down her spine. The look of a desperate man who knew his time was at an end... Lyn winced as Rath calmly lifted his bow, his aim true as ever, embedding one arrow, then two firmly in his upper torso.
Incredibly, the man stumbled, but did not fall -- as though spurred on by his no doubt fatal injuries at this point, he raised his axe, sprinting full speed, a bloody grin plastered on his wide-eyed face. Lyn heard herself shout a cry of warning, knew that she'd be too late to intercept him before he struck. She stepped forward as though to try anyway, when her eyes caught the corpse of the man she had bested moments before -- or more importantly, the bow he had never had the chance to use. She pulled it free with a grunt, slinging the discarded quiver over her shoulder; she had not had the chance to practice often with the bow, but...
She pulled the string back as the bloodied bandit leapt at Rath, axe swinging haphazardly, blinking away the sweat from her eyes. She could do nothing about this first strike except rely on Rath's own skill; as she watched, he managed to dodge the blow from the axe, leaning back at a dangerous angle, releasing the reins to afford greater maneuverability. The enraged brigand howled with fury, slamming bodily into the horse, which reared back in fright, spilling its unprepared rider to the stone littered floor with a shrill whinny.
The bandit raised his axe in a victorious posture, clearly intent on bringing it down on Rath's now-prone form, and that was when she struck.
Not the best shot, but she was satisfied to see the shaft of the arrow she had just loosed embed itself firmly in his shoulder; she was even more pleased to see him drop his weapon in shock and pain. Even as she clumsily knocked a second arrow, she saw Rath pull himself to his feet, unsheathing a sword of his own, thrusting unceremoniously forward... ending another life with a twist of the blade. He grimly withdrew the weapon, the foe keeling forward, dead at last.
"Rath!" Lyn shouted, lowering the bow and rushing forward, closing the distance by half before he turned in her direction.
"...Nice shot," He granted her, sounding quite placid for a man who had just flirted dangerously with death.
"Lucky shot," Lyn corrected him breathlessly, catching up to him at last.
"Have you been practicing?" Rath inquired, still unnervingly calm, turning to catch his horse's reigns; the animal still stood nearby, pawing the ground nervously. He ran a hand over the animal's neck, whispering a few reassuring words that Lyn couldn't quite catch.
"Not as much as I should..."
"...Do you see this?" Rath brushed off her reply, holding the now-bloodied sword he had drawn moments earlier before him with his free hand.
"It's a sword," Lyn replied in a bewildered tone, frowning. A simple iron model, with no particularly interesting properties she could discern.
"It is your sword," Rath corrected her, sliding the weapon back into its sheath. "I owe you twice over, Lyn of the Lorca."
He lifted himself back into the saddle, clicking his tongue in a command that set his mount galloping off. Lyn stared after him for several moments before realizing what he was talking about; so long ago, the conflict with Limstella on the Dread Isle... she had given him a sword. A simple iron sword...
"Eeeeeew!" Serra screeched, stepping hastily away from the tumbling form of a hapless warrior foolish enough to think Matthew an easy target. "Do you have to go for the throat, Matthew?" She nearly retched at the sight of all that blood; she could hardly tell if her allies her injured or not, there was so much of it staining everything!
"Kills 'em quicker," came the grim reply from in front of her. "I didn't sign up for front line fighting..."
"It hardly counts as front line when you're surrounded," Serra pointed out primly, earning a frustrated glance from her fellow Ostian.
"Either way, this is Guy's line of work, not mine!"
"Oh, shut up. You're doing fine. Just try to be a little less... messy," Serra advised, making a disgusted face.
"...Bloody woman..." Matthew muttered, darting forward, sword still drawn. He did hate having to do the actual fighting, but there was little to plunder in this forsaken area... and like it or not, Serra was in his charge, and she did have a penchant for picking the worst places to wander off to...
"Hey! Where are you going?!" She shouted at his back, moving quickly to keep up. "Come on, over here, over here!" He looked back to see what she was going on about, noted that she seemed to want to head further into the fray, where Kent and Sain were now fighting side by side, a pair of Pegasus Knights swooping in from time to time. It figured.
He ignored her, heading further away from the fighting, where the foes were easier to pick off with stealth and surprise attacks.
"Hey! Lord Hector said you have to stay by my side no matter what, right? I am a sweet, helpless little cleric... you have to protect me!"
"Protect you... I'm a thief!" Matthew reminded her, frowning. "I despise getting into brawls..."
"It's fine," Serra insisted, waving her staff in a most patronizing fashion. "I can heal you if you get hurt! So come on, don't be shy, right over here!" There she went again, trying to corral him back toward the fighting.
"You know..." Matthew said slyly, crossing his arms. "I've been wondering about this for awhile... but are you really one of Elimine's clerics? Are you sure you're not actually the follower of some dark, evil god?"
Her eyes widened in a most amusing fashion as his words elicited just the response he was hoping for -- perhaps if she were utterly furious with him she'd stop pestering and bother Sain or something.
"That was very, very, very mean, Matthew!" She exclaimed in as hurt a voice as she could muster on such short notice. "Are you trying to hurt my tender feelings?" She pouted, arms crossed, lower lip protruding in typical fashion.
"Hmm... tender. Right. Fine, let's get going..." He sighed, giving in as she again turned toward the fray. However much he disliked the task, it was his duty to ensure she didn't get herself killed...
A task she seemed more than willing to make a difficult as possible, judging from her current actions. He groaned as she darted right toward the mounted knights -- did she think these men were below striking down an Elimine Cleric? Granted, they had orders not to kill the women, but... he doubted it would take much of a blow to fell Serra. Or himself, for that matter, he reflected sourly, wiping his blade clean as he rushed after her. And they'd be trying to kill him.
One of the better built men in among their enemy's forces brought himself to bear, wielding an axe that nearly rivaled the size of the ones Lord Hector swung about in battle, and Matthew rushed forward, shouting furiously at Serra to watch what she was doing. Predictably, she completely ignored him, neglecting so much as turn around to see the source of his sudden concern. He cursed, readying himself to attack, though he doubted he'd be much of a match for this behemoth of a man.
It was his speed that saved him, as was often the case; seeing his speedy approach, the warrior turned to meet him, axe raised in attack position; Matthew all but dove for the floor, feeling the rush of air over his head that indicated just how near to almost certain death he had come. Repeating a few choice words Serra would have smacked him for thinking let alone saying aloud, he whirled around, blade drawn to counter attack while the foe was still off balance from his swing. He struck decisively, slashing expertly at key vital areas for maximum efficiency.
Apparently finally noticing his plight, Serra came running back toward him, gripping her healing staff and now wielding a tome of some sort of light magic under her arm; she at least had the sense to pause a reasonable distance away. Matthew jumped away, knowing his strikes had been wounding, but not yet fatal; the man growled in fury and pain, charging at him again. Not a moment too soon, several shouted words from Serra's direction that he did not pretend to comprehend resulted in a brilliant ray of light coalescing around the foe's form; he paused with a positively stupid expression on his face, mouth hanging slightly open. Serra screamed a fierce trigger word, her hair flying about her flushed face, and Matthew allowed a grudging sort of admiration of her to manifest itself in his mind.
The beams of light constricted around the poor fool, leaving not even the slightest scratch, yet he fell with a choked expression, either dead or dying.
"Matthew! Will you be a bit more careful, please!" Serra scolded him, carefully avoiding looking at the man she had just dispatched.
"You're telling me to be more careful?" Matthew shouted back at her incredulously. "If you would just listen to me once in awhile--"
"Come on!" Serra interrupted him, grabbing his hand, pulling him forward. "We've almost won, you know -- we're heading further into the city to find that awful man from earlier -- you're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine!" Matthew exclaimed, shaking free of her grasp, following her of his own accord. Why did he even try? "You are nothing but trouble, you know that?"
"You know you love me," Serra teased him, bounding ahead recklessly. Matthew followed quickly, making a few gagging sounds loudly enough so that he was sure she heard them.
Rath bounded ahead of them on his horse, Guy running in a vain attempt to keep up with his fellow tribesman; Kent and Sain passed them with ease thanks to the increased mobility their mounts provided, the Pegasus Knights winged past them overhead, and Lady Lyndis was no doubt leading the group, leaving them at the back of the party. A disconcerting number of corpses littered the battlefield behind them, but Matthew had no qualms with that; he had long come to terms with the bloody nature of conflict -- for all his cheerful demeanor, he certainly was a realist -- a rare combination of traits. There was a reason most people employed in his trade were more of the dark, brooding type.
They passed through several alleyways, winding their way through the abandoned streets of the town, Matthew glancing habitually into buildings they passed for anything interesting, though he didn't -- or expect to -- find much. The party ahead of them dispatched the few remaining foes that attacked from crouched positions in the alleys, from behind buildings, and from similar prime yet predictable surprise attack positions, leaving little for him to take care of as he followed at the back.
He liked it better this way, anyway.
Lyndis's voice, shouting something from far ahead, reached his ears, but he could not discern what she was saying. A gruff voice he recognized as the man from earlier replied, and as he edged closer, passing by where Serra had finally decided to stay still for once, he could just barely make out their words. Something about having no honor, something else about having too much gall for her own good -- typical paltry verbal warfare.
A more interesting thing caught his attention; movement, from behind, just barely caught by his extraordinarily trained peripheral sight. He turned to get a better look, but whatever it had been had found a spot to hide beyond his perception. He frowned. Either more bandits, or whoever had been following them earlier... and he doubted the former would turn to stealth, at least not successfully.
Intriguing. A clash of weapons signaled that Lyn had tolerated enough of talk, and a shouted warning from his companions indicated a final rush of enemies, rallying to protect their leader in one final, fruitless effort.
Still frowning, Matthew moved forward after Serra, who predictably rushed right on toward the fight. He wondered if she did that on purpose; she was always complaining about being deployed on the front lines in their past battles. Had she simply grown used to the idea, or was she doing this just to annoy him?
"Oh, gross!" he heard her gasp as Sain moved in for an easy kill nearby her.
"My apologies," Sain panted, wiping his blade with a grimace, "but better that than your lovely countenance marred by wounds otherwise prevented!" He winked at her, and she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Now isn't the time for flirting, Sain!" she scolded, rolling her eyes.
"Forgive me!" he laughed, spurring his mount on past her, yet not straying too far. "Just stay nearby, Serra... no one will get past me!"
Well, that was fine and dandy, but... Matthew darted forward, another sight calling itself to his attention.
"Archers!" He shouted in warning, directing Sain and Serra's attentions less toward each other and more toward the final leg of the battle at hand. Serra gasped, running for refuge behind Sain, who brought about his shield to catch the shafts directed at him harmlessly against its steel surface.
"You see?" He said, though he sounded a bit shaken.
"Pay attention," Matthew murmured as he passed by the two, peering into the buildings around them to ensure there were no ruffians waiting to ambush them from within.
"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Serra sniffed, peeking at him from behind Sain's horse, a defiant expression on her face. Matthew sighed, deciding not to pursue the matter, for another few stragglers had broken away from the front lines and were charging in their direction.
"Almost done!" Sain spoke optimistically, bringing his sword about, ready to use. Serra, using common sense for once, took several paces back, that light magic tome appearing from somewhere in those robes again.
Predictably, the first to reach them engaged Sain, who was by far the most dangerous looking of the three, drawing his attention from his accompanying axe-wielding mates. The second cast a cursory glance in his direction, then darted deftly for Serra instead, who let out an absolutely ear-wrenching shriek before bringing her light magic to bear. The third, of course, went for him -- Matthew prepared himself for attack.
The well-trained spy nimbly dodged the first blow, spinning to catch his foolish attacker squarely in the throat with his blade. The man let out a gurgle, slumping to the floor, and Matthew whirled away to get back to Serra's side -- a moment too late.
"Back off!" She shouted furiously, her first attack having done little but momentarily stun the berserker approaching her with ill-intent written across his face, as easily readable as a road sign. He licked his lips, shaking off the stunning effects of her holy magic, approaching with surprising speed for an axe user.
Matthew rushed forward at a full sprint, acutely aware that Sain still had his hands full with his own foe, that this was entirely his responsibility. He shouted something incoherent, trying to call the man's attention from Serra, to no avail.
He raised his axe, and Serra looked up with wide eyes, frozen in fear.
"Serra, move!" Matthew shouted, closing the distance between them -- too slowly, too slow! If she heard him, she made no indication...
Another voice now, one that Matthew recognized, but certainly didn't expect here...
"Why don't you pick on someone who can fight back!" Came a shout, a cloaked figure springing from behind a building, far to Serra's right, but close enough... "Serra, get behind me! And you, see if you can match this!"
A blaze of fire ignited the ground around the now bewildered berserker, who grunted first in confusion, then howled in pain as the spell took full effect, spiraling up around him in a way that might have been considered beautiful were it not for the sight of burning flesh and scent of scorched skin it elicited. He stood there, worn but not yet defeated, Matthew took the opportunity to finish the job -- he doubted the guy even saw him coming.
"...Erk?!" Serra gasped incredulously, pulling away from the sage, who had roughly pulled her away from harm, behind him. Matthew was just as surprised as she was for once -- he had assumed their mysterious stalker meant them no harm, but if it was Erk -- why hadn't he just come right out to greet them?
"...Don't get the wrong idea," Erk stepped away from her hastily, mouth twisting into a frown.
Oh, yes. Matthew had heard their parting words, way back then, on Valor. This would be an interesting reunion -- of that, he was certain.
Florina hovered just above the ground, zeroing in on the last of the bandits crowding the decaying old building their leader had turned tail to hide in just minutes before. This battle had been nothing but axes and the occasional bow -- not a pleasant combination for Pegasus Knights to deal with, being aerial units and primarily lance wielders to boot. She had taken a few scrapes here and there, and very narrowly dodged several clumsily shot arrows -- thank Elimine these men were at least not particularly skilled with the bow -- but in all she felt she was in fairly good condition.
Lyn dashed forward in front of her, clearing the entry way of a few unfortunate forms by herself, at least until Rath and Guy surged forward to her aid. Florina waited patiently for an opening; she hated fighting indoors, and so did Huey. Cramped quarters were no place for a pegasus and its rider, however much the roof of this building was missing, and the walls crumbling around it. The three ventured further inside, and Florina landed lightly to follow them in, tightening her grip on her delicately crafted silver lance, ignoring the sweat rolling down her brow from her tangle of now battle-awry lavender hair.
The sounds of fighting ahead had not waned; if anything, they grew more intense -- angry shouts and curses mingling with the dizzying metallic cacophony, swelling to construct the familiar symphony of wartime. It was frightening, as many things were to her, but for the honor of the Knights of Illia... the former Knights of Caelin... for her own personal satisfaction, she refused to give in to that fear, spurring Huey forward, lance raised and poised to strike. Not surprisingly, her allies ahead of her left little living or at least in a position to be dangerous in their wake; Florina studiously avoided the vacant eyes of the corpses littering the room, or worse, the hate-filled, pain-hazed stares of the ones unfortunate enough to still cling to life.
"Coward!" Lyn's voice rang out from somewhere ahead, and Florina followed the sound. "You've run from the fate you chose for yourself long enough!"
There was no doubt in her mind who she was addressing this heated speech toward; she shrank back in the saddle at the raw fury in her best friend's tone. She had heard Lyn angry before, but... never to this extent.
She rounded a corner, and there, in the midst of a large chamber -- at one time, it might have served as an Elimine chapel, she reflected absently -- stood her friends, and the leader of the Ganelon Bandits they had been seeking.
"Madwoman!" The man shrieked, spittle flying from his cracked lips, a wild look in his eye. He was backing away from Lyn at the same rate she approached him, his axe drawn with a trembling hand, her sword fixed in his direction with unmistakable intent.
"Are you satisfied?" Lyn shouted back, continuing her advance. "The blood of your subordinates, the lives of the men lost today -- they are all on your hands! The petty pride wars you vile men wage over the lives of innocents, the lands of people powerless to protect themselves from your villainy -- see what is has brought you! Annihilation!" She nearly screamed the last word, and Florina thought that if she were nearer to her friend, she might see tears shining in her eyes -- tears of regret, of fury, of sadness and lament... for all her shows of strength, Lyn had never been fond of killing. Even dogs like these.
"Then go!" The man shouted in response, backing himself against the wall when he had nowhere further to retreat. "You've won, no one says you gotta finish the job!" He was begging for his life, in his own way, Florina knew.
"Why should I spare you?" Lyn retorted, her hot fury replaced momentarily by cold words and narrowed eyes. "What would you do if I allowed you to live? Return to your life of lawlessness, join another pack of dogs? Establish a new one, rebuild your filthy organization? Why should I allow that?"
The man made no response, though he was shaking his head as though to plead innocence to each of these accusations, to negate the sins she laid before him in plain speech. Lyn stood, sword raised, dangerously near the now cornered rogue leader.
"Give me... one... good... reason."
"I'll tell you!" He shouted in response, eyes darting wildly from Lyn to her gathered companions, standing solidly nearby to ensure her safety. "I'll tell ya all I know 'bout the Taliver! That's... that's what you want, ain't it?" He sounded almost pitiably desperate.
"I thought--" Lyn faltered just for a moment, surprised that he would know anything else considering his show from earlier.
"I'll tell ya!" He cried again, nodding emphatically. "Some o' my men... they saw th' whole thing!" He explained, dropping his axe, holding his hands up in a warding gesture. "It was one man, it was, that was the end of the Taliver -- called 'imself the Crag of Caelin, he did!"
"The Crag of..." Lyn's eyes widened in recognition, and Florina gasped. There was only one man who would call himself that.
"Tha's right!" He exclaimed, daring to hope his life might be spared. "The Crag o' Caelin! I 'member it perfectly! My men said he was as bald as a mewling baby, cased in a fortress of steel that not even the strongest o' the Taliver could breach! Lucky fer my men, they were pris'ners in that camp, taken in th' last clash we had with them... or they'da been killed too..."
He trailed off, that pleading expression still on his face. Lyn started at him impassively, and sheathed her sword without a sound. A few moments passed, the tension in the room thicker than anything Florina had ever witnessed in her life.
Abruptly, Lyn turned her back on the man, counting on Rath's still raised bow to cover her if the man foolishly decided to attack while she was facing the other way.
"We're going to find Lord Wallace," Lyn spoke in a strange voice, sounding both icily calm and eerily detached. She swallowed, and continued. "This place has seen enough blood spilled today. Let us take our leave."
She walked with a gait too stiff for a daughter of the plains, a face taut with unreadable emotion. She brushed past Florina without so much as a glance in her direction, disappearing beyond the doorway toward where the rest of their company waited in the roadways outside.
Rath lowered his bow, finding no further threat with the dumbfounded man before them, who seemed shocked to still have his life. He turned impassively for the door, Guy following in silence, a shocked expression on his youthful face.
Florina followed them out, her thoughts reeling, and a thousand questions forming at the edges of her mind.
Author's Note, Revisited!
Sorry this one was a bit late. I procrastinated just a few hours too long last night, and when 1 AM rolled around and I realized I needed to be awake in five hours I decided to call it a night (and I just now finished this chapter here in my Computer Science Lab. Ahaha!) Anyway I am going to start responding to my reviews because I love you guys. :D
Mizuki -- I don't really want to give away anything about future pairings in here, but I will say that anything that hasn't been hinted at or made apparent by now probably won't be introduced (in any major way) in the future.
Timmycheese -- I called it Whispers because there was a ridiculous amount of foreshadowing, whispers of things to come. My mind works in strange ways like that.
Firelien -- I hope it was worth the wait. This is only my third attempt or so at writing action/battle type scenes ever (and the first two were earlier in this story.)
Nobody At All -- Well my mind is blown. I'm glad you like the story. :)
TheOneAndOnlyT -- It's interesting seeing everyone's ideas about what Hector's going to be doing, but I'm not going to give anything away. :) Also, I love your stories.
Winteress -- I love your story "Jealousy." I've been recommending it to all my friends. I think they're getting tired of me talking about fanfic all the time. :)
Angel White -- Wait, I talk to you all the time anyway. Why bother here? :P (Cue lecture about not writing Author's Notes... I know, I know, I'm weak!)
Malignant Plate -- I love the Dart/Farina pairing, but... see my previous response to Mizuki? I'm glad you like my story so much. :)
