Author's Corner:

Hello, everyone! I'm a few days behind schedule, so please forgive me. Once again I humbly thank all who sent in their kind and encouraging reviews. Everyone please read and review if you have the time!

Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 20

Last Man Standing

July 2nd, Castle Bern,

I lost count of the people with black bags under their eyes this morning. It seems that everyone either slept for less than two candle marks (the majority), cried for more than two candle marks (a select few), or somehow are running on overdrive without the need for sleep (namely Mark and Karel). Now Karel I can understand, given his somewhat lack of sanity when it comes to killing people, but Mark? He sat brooding on the fringes of camp for several hours after our excursion at the Sunset Palace, and yet he shows no sign of weariness? Recently, the only things he has been doing are brooding and scribbling leaflet after leaflet in his books!

"Frankly speaking," Cecilia began, "We are hardly in any shape for another battle."

At the crack of dawn, Pent, Louise, and the lords ventured towards Castle Bern in hopes of attaining an audience with Queen Helena as soon as possible. While it would've saved much time in speaking with the queen at Sunset Palace, their very presence in such a 'heavily' guarded area would raise questions. Instead, Pent had suggested that this meeting be guided through the proper diplomatic routes, albeit losing precious time in the process. Since Cecilia was still the tactician in command, she was obligated to brief the higher-ranked vassals such as Oswin, Marcus, and Wallace. During the absence of the three Lycian lords, those three served as their liege lord's replacement while Cecilia controlled the mercenaries.

"The army is simply too exhausted at the moment," Marcus agreed, "If we were forced into another pitched battle, we may not be able to hold the line."

"Not to mention the size of the enemy forces," Oswin pointed out, "Throughout our engagements in Elibe, we've typically been outnumbered drastically. Outclassed and with insufficient rest, the strain would prove too much for our comrades."

Wallace frowned slightly and was about to ask a question, but thought better of it, "For shame, the old times are passing. There used to be an era where men-at-arms could march miles on end and still be ready for an ugly scrap or two."

"All of us are not as hardy as you are, General Wallace," Marcus chuckled.

"Exhaustion isn't the only issue," Cecilia reminded them, "Remember, our objective is the Shrine of Seals, one of the most sacred sanctuaries in all of Bern. I wouldn't put it past the Bern Army or the remnants of the Black Fang to hound us all the way there!"

"Fortunately, we won't have to deal with Bern's military."

Cecilia and the three retainers bowed slightly as Pent led the other lords into the command tent.

"Our admission was earlier than we had expected," Eliwood explained, "Apparently, someone got hold of the queen and informed her of the troubling situation last night."

"Which was fortunate," Hector added, "After understanding that we were responsible for her son's safety, the queen was all to willing to yield the location of the Shrine. As an added bonus, Queen Helena was most generous in ensuring that the Bern armies will not interrupt our march."

Lyn handed a manuscript to Cecilia and grimaced, "There is still the small matter that our destination is still a good two days march away."

Cecilia shook her head, "Then we'll slow down our pace. Make the journey in three days and catch a little breather in between. In the meantime, Legault and Matthew can scout out any resistance we could possibly encounter."

"Resistance?" Hector asked incredulously, "The Bern Army isn't going anywhere!"

"Not them," Cecilia said, "I talked with Mark earlier, and the two of us agree that the Black Fang will be most pleased that we defeated three of the Four Fangs, slew Sonia, and possibly caused the death of Brendan Reed…"

Eliwood winced, "I doubt that we could settle the matter peacefully…"

July 4th, roughly 10 miles from the Shrine of Seals,

It appears that the news Legault and Matthew brought back caused quite a commotion. Even from the fringes of our base camp, the uproar was loud enough to disturb my writings. Talk about trying to find some peace and quiet… Quite a few times in the past day or so, I've attempted to bid farewell to this merry little group, and each time I was stopped no more than half a dozen yards from camp. It was predictable that Cecilia and Lyn stopped me, but this morning I was appalled to find Lord Eliwood standing at my tent flap and telling me that if I ever left the army, he'd personally drag me back. Since the skirmish at the Sunset Palace, Lord Eliwood appears to be more receptive to my presence, but I have yet to truly gain Lord Hector's trust. A perilous warrior, that Hector is, but I fear that his Ostian background bred too much brawn and not enough brains. All in all, this is quite confusing. If they do not wish for my presence, why do they keep me here?

"Mark," Raven tapped the tactician on the shoulder, "What news do you think Legault and Matthew came back with?"

While partitions of the army under Eliwood and Hector's command still held Mark in questionable regard, the majority of Lyn's group and a few mercenaries were still on speaking terms with their tactician. At this question, Wil, who was under Lyn's orders to keep an eye on Mark, stopped whittling arrows, Sain looked up from his disturbed nap, and Lucius closed his book, both interested in the tactician's reply.

Mark stopped scratching the manuscript with a feathered pen, "I would say that the two thieves returned with an enemy head count several times larger than our entire force combined."

"Black Fang?" Wil asked.

"Undoubtedly," the scratching noise continued, "And this time they'll be out for blood."

"True," Sain nodded, "In the past, they more or less saw it as a duty to take us out. Now that we've caused the deaths of several high ranking members including their leader…"

"It's no longer a duty," Mark replied without looking up from his writing, "It has turned into a debt of blood."

"How many do you think will be at the Shrine of Seals?" Lucius asked calmly.

"All of them."

Everyone stared at him, "What?"

"You heard me," Mark dipped the pen into a small ink bottle, "There's no longer a reason to hold back. Linus, Uhai, Ursula, Sonia, and Brendan are dead. Jaffar, Nino, and Legault have left their ranks. Only the last of the Four Fangs remain, and I wager he pitched every Black Fang member in Bern into this last battle."

"I wouldn't put that past Lloyd," Legault said as he joined the conversation, "The command center isn't taking the news very well, given that the total head count is nearly two hundred Black Fang elites."

"Two hundred!" Wil gasped.

"Damn," Sain swore, "And this won't be a pack of rabble like our opponents in Laus. These guys will well nigh fight to the last drop of blood in their veins!"

"Exactly," Legault agreed, "And you haven't taken Lloyd into account. Some say that he is the greatest of the Four Fangs, even stronger than Jaffar in certain areas. It is common knowledge that Jaffar is the superior assassin, but I have yet to hear anyone match Lloyd in a fair, one-on-one duel."

That perked Raven's interest, "Really, is that so…"

"I heard that your skills are also top notch," Legault said to the red-haired mercenary, "But I think Lloyd's probably still a step or two ahead of you."

"Really now," Raven smirked grimly, "That I have to see first hand."

"Two hundred enemies," Sain thought aloud, "We can field at most around forty-odd fighters, leaving us outnumbered roughly four to one. Think we can pull this off?"

"We faced worse odds at Castle Laus," Wil supplied.

Legault snorted, "Different level of skill, different tactician. Laus at most fielded a pack of idiots for infantry, whereas the Black Fang's ground crew is roughly the equivalent of Bern's professional military. And who had the command at Laus?"

Everyone looked at their lost-in-thought tactician who was still engaged in writing a manuscript.

"What are you writing anyways?" Wil asked.

"Memoirs," came the reply, "For my retirement."

"We may all be permanently retired rather prematurely," Sain laughed mirthlessly.

The next day…

"Scouts reporting in," Slater said, "Master Lloyd, your orders?"

"Bring them here," Lloyd commanded from atop the steps leading to the Shrine of Seals. As Slater turned to execute his orders, Lloyd slowly pulled out the curved saber from its sheath. Holding the blade lightly in his right hand, Lloyd gazed down the slender blade as he recalled the oath he swore.

"Be at ease, brother," he said softly, "I shall rejoin you soon, bringing the heads of your murderers."

Once this blade gave way to thoughts of better days between siblings, now the weapon served only as a reminder of his brother's corpse. The sword was a gift from Linus on Lloyd's twentieth name day. It was a custom between the Reed brothers to stage a mock 'duel' annually on Lloyd's name day. Both were emerging as talented swordsmen, though Lloyd favored a level of finesse that was rivaled only by Linus' preference of brute strength. That day, the two had fought against one another for nearly three candle marks, neither able to land a sound blow to claim victory. Towards the end of the battle, Linus had accidentally shattered Lloyd's weapon, sending shards of the broken sword flying. One scored a small gash in Lloyd's scalp, a scar he bore to this day. After apologizing profusely, Linus offered the sword as both recompense and present.

Acknowledged reverently throughout the ranks of the Black Fang, the mighty Crimson Edge proved worthy of its title, for truly the edges shimmered with a red tint as if thirsting for guilty blood. Lloyd swore never to bathe its silvery edge in the blood of innocents, and until the advent of Sonia and Nergal, that vow held true. Though no one else ever commented upon it, Lloyd seemed to notice that the blade shown with a brilliant luster while he kept the vow, but its sheen had grown tarnished since Sonia spread her taint. Countless times, the Reed brothers were sent to eradicate scum or traitors, but where Lloyd once sought to understand their plight, now he only followed his father's orders. In a few instances, Lloyd had even questioned the morality of his slayings, but he heeded his illustrious father's commands to the letter, wherever the order originated from. Linus, loyal as he was, reveled at the prospect of challenging a worthy foe and never thought to question their father's judgment.

Perhaps he reveled too much, Lloyd thought somberly, and that hastened his fall. Regardless, most of the Black Fang elites who had nothing to hold them back were present at the Shrine of Seals. Others who had families or other needs to take care of were allowed to leave the organization, though they were welcomed back with open arms should the Black Fang prevail at the Shrine of Seals.

"Master Lloyd."

Lloyd snapped out of his thoughts, glancing up to see Slater and several members of the scouting party standing respectfully before him, "Make your report."

"We've corrected the situation, Master Lloyd," one of the scouts spoke up, "Some of us ran across one of the invaders yesterday, but failed to bring the man down. We feared that our presence and numbers would've caused the enemy to retreat, but they have acted on the contrary. The enemy will appear on the opposite of the river in less than four candle marks."

"So they weren't scared off by our numbers," Lloyd murmured, "Impressive."

"Fools," Slater said dismissively, "They'll bury their bones in foreign soil."

Lloyd nodded, "Send out guerillas and lure them into our main forces. Draw their primary army into our jaws and let their blood spill across this earth."

"Yes, sir!"

"Hold," Lloyd said as he unfurled a map, "Slater, take fifty men and conceal yourselves here," he gestured to the map, "When the shock troops draw the enemy into our melee range, sweep around their backs and scatter their auxiliaries."

"At once, Master Lloyd!"

It was near high noon when Eliwood and Lyn's vanguard corps arrived at the river separating them from the Shrine of Seals. Known as the Diason Brook, this water way was well known for its perilous rapids and swift waters. Matthew had sketched a hasty map of the surroundings the day previous while Legault, more experienced in the ways of the Black Fang, ventured ahead to investigate. He had run into a patrol not thirty yards beyond the river, and it was only due to his quick reflexes that Legault managed to escape. Careful probing later revealed that the Black Fang forces numbered anywhere between a full regiment of a hundred and fifty men to some two hundred odd fighters.

Half a candle mark later, the primary detachment arrived to find the vanguard clearing away the remnants of a brief skirmish. The vanguard consisted of Kent and Sain as the cavalry, Dorcas, Bartre, and Hawkeye as primary infantry, along with Wil, Rebecca, and Priscilla for support. Overhead, Heath was flying long distance scout, changing at regular intervals with Fiora. A small group of Black Fang scouts chanced to stumble into their midst, and a short but vicious brawl had ensued. Though the enemy had numbered but half a dozen men, their lack of mobility ensured that there was no escape. Fighting fiercely in despair, their cause was unfortunately doomed to begin with. With cavaliers driving in from the left, fliers crushing their right flank and bloody axes hacking away in the center, the hapless Fang warriors perished.

"They've become considerably bolder," Heath remarked as Cecilia and the lords reached the wounded vanguard.

"That they have," Wil grimaced as he staunched a cut on his right forearm while Rebecca left to find Serra, "In the past, I admit that they fought well, but this time they're blade work is as if they have nothing left to lose. Did you see the way the last guy dived at Sir Kent?"

"Yes, and that blow was less than a hair's breadth away from finding flesh," Hawkeye said, "And Dame Fiora came dangerously close to losing a leg."

"Good thing her pegasus shifted ahead of time," Heath agreed.

Eliwood frowned, "We're not going to have an easy time with this, are we?"

"And that was only a small crew of scouts," Hector said grimly, "Damn them all!"

Lyn, however, was noticing something else, "Cecilia, are you alright?"

It was then everyone noticed that their tactician was pale and trembling as Cecilia let a small scrap of paper slip through her numb fingers.

"I can't do this," Cecilia blurted out, "I can't! I simply cannot lead you into your deaths!"

Now it was Hector's turn to frown, "What are you talking about? You're a full-fledged tactician who earned her wings!"

Eliwood picked up the paper and read it, "Damn."

Hector and Lyn exchanged a look of dawning misgivings. Their friend simply never swore, regardless of how difficult or impossible the situation was.

"What is the matter, Eliwood?" Lyn worked up the courage to ask.

"Wyverns," Eliwood said dismally, "Apparently hostile since they exchanged a few javelin throws with Farina not too far away. Farina managed to retreat safely, but there's no telling when they'll decide to crash into our rear."

"How many?"

"A full squadron," Cecilia said in a small voice, "Twelve veterans with one commander."

Heath swallowed, "We simply don't have the forces to deal with that! If we sit around and wait for the wyverns to arrive, the Black Fang may decide to charge us." He didn't need to elaborate on what would happen if the wyverns caught their little group in the middle of a fierce battle with the primary Black Fang detachment around the Shrine of Seals.

"Interesting, you believe that with your two hands it is possible to avert the catastrophe that Nergal poses, yet are unable to handle such a paltry obstacle."

Eliwood, Cecilia and Hector turned around at that voice. Lyn, on the other hand, just smiled slightly, as if all her problems were solved on the spot, "I was hoping you'd take some interest in our plight, Drake."

"You!" Hector said in disbelief, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Possibly to offer you a way out, Hector of Ostia," the Hammer of Terrascars said drolly, "Then again, you don't have to listen to my advice."

"What makes you think we'll-" Hector was interrupted as Eliwood dug an elbow into his ribs, "Eliwood?"

Eliwood fixed his gaze upon their first tactician, "Mark."

"Yes?" Came the reply.

"Are you fit to command this battle?"

Mark traded the Pheraen lord look for look, "Are you willing to put your lives into my hands?"

Eliwood blinked, "What?"

"If I ordered you to walk into a deathtrap with your heads held high," Mark continued, "Would you do it?"

"I…"

"My swords are yours to command, Drake," Lyn replied instantly.

"Lyn?" Hector asked, "Are you sure…"

"As are mine," Eliwood said with finality after a moment's pause, "Sword, vassals, life are yours to command."

"Damn it," Hector rasped, "Well, it'll never be said that Hector of Ostia left his friends to die alone and unaided," he threw his ax on the table before them, "You have the command, Mark. However, be warned: I do not trust you, and I never will. See to it that I don't find an excuse to mislay my ax somewhere between your neck and shoulders."

The tactician did not seem ruffled in the slightest, "Call to arms."

Moments later, every member of the war host was gathered before the command tent. Whatever distaste they had for the Hammer lay secondary to the commands of a liege lord. Evidently, whoever acted in the lords' name also acted with their authority and commanded a vassal's unconditional loyalty.

"It has been a long time since I stood before all of you as a commander," Mark started, "Yet necessity has drawn me out of retirement. Should any of you feel ill at ease to follow my orders, feel free to speak up. I will not hold it against you for your honesty."

Wallace grinned wolfishly, "Just give us the damn orders so we can go out there and hit something." Wallace, though never openly an advocate of Mark's predicament, was a soldier through and through. As a soldier, he thought it was preposterous to table a brilliant battle advisor and use the back-up advisor.

"Very well," Mark said calmly as he started drawing a coarse sketch of the surrounding terrain on the ground with a staff, "Bartre, Dorcas, Harken, Oswin, Wallace, Hawkeye, Geitz, Dart, and Lord Hector step forward." He was promptly obeyed.

"Lord Hector will command this squad," Mark went on, "Move your force ahead to the mouth of this valley, past yonder patch of forestry and actively seek out the enemy main force."

"That's not enough men," Hector said, "We'd be swallowed alive by the enemy onslaught."

"I cannot give you too large of a force," Mark replied as he gestured towards the forest at the mouth of the valley, "Look there!"

The dense foliage lay roughly three miles from the entrance to the valley. Overhead, a large flock of birds was circling atop the trees, though they never made an effort to land on the tree boughs.

"Birds are hesitant to land," Rath said quietly, "There are foes in the forest!"

"That's a fairly large batch of trees," Cecilia noted, "There could be anywhere between half a hundred to a hundred foes inside."

"They laid a trap for us," Lyn realized, "If we committed our entire force into battle, they'd sweep behind us and take our rear by storm."

"Exactly," Mark said, "The valley floor is narrow enough that only a company of roughly forty to fifty men can advance forward at any moment. Lord Hector and his command are to hold that position for two waves before pulling back. Do you understand?"

Hector nodded reluctantly, "Very well, since we're bait, let us be off!"

Mark waited until the ranks closed to accommodate for the missing soldiers before calling out, "Marcus, Lowen, Isadora, Kent, Sain, Farina, Fiora, Florina, Heath, Rath, forward!"

The assembled heavy horse moved forward. Marcus spoke up, "Your orders, Sir Mark?"

"Take this," Mark handed a parchment sealed in wax to Marcus, "Marcus, once you see a red flag flash twice from camp, you are to open these set of orders. We may not be able to finish off the entire enemy host, but we shall win the victory."

"What if the enemy should leave the forest and challenge Lord Hector's forces from behind before the signal?" Kent asked.

"They won't, because they want to catch the majority of our forces in the trap," Mark answered, "Besides, we will be the ones laying in ambush and not them."

"As you ordered," Marcus left with his detachment.

"Legault, Jaffar, Nino, Erk, Lord Pent," Mark said, "Lord Pent will command this squad, and I've already spoken with him regarding your sequence of commands."

Pent nodded, "It shall be done."

"The remaining forces shall stay in back," Mark instructed, "Divide our defenders into two groups, one led by Lord Eliwood and the other by Lady Lyndis. After we deal with the wyverns on our backs, this group shall also push into the valley with our forces. Guy, at my signal, raise the yellow or red banners."

"As ordered," Guy called out.

"Karel, Raven, Matthew, see me afterwards," Mark said as the group dispersed, "I have something different in mind for the three of you…"

Across the small plateau that made up the valley floor, a ring of bloodstained but determined warriors stood their ground. As Mark had guessed, the plateau only allowed one company of fifty men to challenge the group at any given moment. The first unlucky company threw themselves into combat but to their dismay, found their power broken like a torrent collapses against an indomitable tower. Many a foe fell before the mighty axes of Bartre, Dorcas, Geitz and Dart. Harken, living up to his reputation as one of Lord Elbert's chosen guard, repeatedly plunged into a crowd of snarling enemies, only to emerge virtually unscathed from a crowd of dead men. Sword, spear, and ax alike shattered themselves upon Oswin and Wallace's well-forged armor, their wielders scattered like ninepins when the ponderous lance swung level. Yet before the Guardian of the Desert and the future Ostian Lord all quailed. None that day could match their strength and dexterity. Hawkeye's cleaver parted armor, weapon and shield alike as if they were paper. Hector, shrugging off blows and arrows from all directions, was responsible for decapitating several key Black Fang sub-commanders in the melee.

Before long, the first company of the Black Fang fell back in disgrace, their pride stung by the valor of not a dozen people. Shattered beyond hope of rallying, this force melted away and blended into the second advancing company. Without giving the defenders pause, the second group charged forward and successfully thrust Hector's command back several yards. This company fought with a youthful ferocity unmatched by the prior, more ill-fated, group. For a few desperate moments, the outcome was in doubt, but the advent of reinforcements threw the scales in the defenders' favor. Heath dived into the enemy mass from behind while Florina, Fiora and Farina sent their lances ripping into the Black Fang's frontal ranks.

The Black Fang lines held briefly before Hector and Harken broke through. Then the slaughter commenced.

Slater grumbled as he shifted in his crouched position of cover. Staying in one place too long caused a soldier's body to suffer from pines and needles. Around him, his company was also edgy. Lloyd had given orders for Slater's command to hold position until the larger lump of the enemy forces was engaged with the Black Fang shock troops. Unfortunately, the enemy commander has only thrown scarcely a dozen armored men-at-arms into the fray, leaving a small posse of cavalry for reinforcements if need be. Slater considered sending additional scouts, but decided against it in order to conceal his troops' presence for as long as possible. The bushes to Slater's left rustled. Swiveling his helm, Slater saw through the corners of his eye slits that one of his men had returned to make a report.

"What news?" Slater asked.

"They're tough," the scout replied, "I saw the group in the valley throw back two charges from our boys. Didn't see any of their on the ground, just littered with our dead and dying."

"Any other troop movements?"

"Negative," came the reply, "Cavalry's just sitting tight and watching their mates getting pummeled."

Slater frowned, "Oh well, it'll be significantly easier if our main crew wipes out… What's the disturbance?"

Grunts of exertion and bodies scuffling around could be heard intermittently from the trees a dozen yards away. Apparently some busybody in the company decided that they had waited too long for glory.

"Tell them to hush up and stay under cover!" Slater hissed.

The scout vanished into the woods to carry out Slater's orders. A few seconds passed by and all was quiet. Slater, satisfied with the silence, resumed his vigil through the trees. Hearing a twig snap behind him, he didn't even bother raising his head to inquire.

"Gods preserve us…" a man to Slater's left murmured.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Slater turned to look, "Damn it."

The scout that Slater had sent but a few minutes ago was thrown haphazardly against a tree with a knife sticking out of his neck. The path were he just came from was splattered with the blood of half a dozen Black Fang ambushers who were themselves ambushed by an unknown foe.

"Arm yourselves!" Slater shouted, "Enemies…!"

The moment Slater tried to rouse his men from their stupor, the trees around them were simultaneously struck by a trio of fire spells. Aided by the low humidity of the unyielding Bern autumn, it was synonymous to striking a match to a pile of dry hay. In a flash, the once tranquil thicket had turned into a raging inferno.

Pandemonium raged unchecked throughout the ranks as more fire spells rained into the nearby trees, turning the once harmless arbors into ferocious demons of flame. In the madness that ensued from men trying to flee the flames, quite a few were trampled underfoot and perished. Slater, seeing that his command was doomed, hurried threw off his heavy plate mail, discarded his heavy lance and helm before fleeing in the opposite direction of the flickering embers.

Perhaps what was by far more dangerous than the hungry flames were the twin shadows of death that threaded through the conflagration with ease. A thief and an assassin slew man after man as the terrified Black Fang warriors tried to escape in vain. Seeing that the rout was complete, Legault and Jaffar swept through the flaming timbers with accomplished skill until they arrived beyond the choking fumes. Legault nodded towards the three mages that stood surveying their handiwork. Marcus and his group of cavalry provided an extra ring of defense should any hapless Black Fang fighter foolishly tried to attack the spell casters.

"Lord Pent?" Erk asked, "What next?"

"We're done here," Pent answered his pupil, "Now we must aid Lord Hector."

A squadron of wyvern riders tore through the clouds in quest of the Lycian lords' encampment. Unlike the green troops that followed her at Castle Bern, Vaida prudently took a squadron of battle-hardened veterans with her. Below, they spotted a large group of pavilions arranged in a semicircle with a ring of palisades around them.

"Palisades," Vaida scoffed, "Wooden planks are supposed to stop flying wyverns?"

Her troop laughed and jeered as they descended into the semicircle of pavilions. Within the semicircle itself, there stood a large central pavilion that was clearly the command tent. Recalling her previous experience with escapees, Vaida motioned for her group to surround the giant pavilion before charging in. Dismounting, Vaida entered the command tent with a naked blade in hand and two men behind her. To her fury, all they found was an empty tent with several pieces of paper scattered atop a table.

"Damn it!" Vaida screeched, "Search the maps and documents, perhaps we can find something."

As the two rifled through the stacks of uninteresting memos, Vaida noticed a scrap of paper caught underneath one of the legs of the tripod. Shouldering her men aside, Vaida shifted the table and swiped the scrap.

"Shit…"

"Commander?"

The paper read:

Mark Valshannar, High General of Etruria and Tacticial Advisor to the Lycian Lords will now formally accept your unconditional surrender.

Unfortunately for Vaida and her squadron, it wasn't until after she finished the note that Vaida noticed the string that was attached to the bottom of the slip. A string that was now broken since she grabbed the paper from the floor…

With an audible crack, a blue, circular rune appeared on the ground and quickly grew with exponential speed. Quickly outstripping Vaida's shock, the rune enlarged itself until it encompassed the entire interior of the command tent. Shooting upwards from the ground, the light rune trapped Vaida and her soldiers within an unyielding magic barrier.

"Damn!" Vaida cursed.

One of her subordinates wasn't completely stupid, "Perhaps one of our allies outside can help us escape?"

"That would be quite impossible."

The giant pavilion was stripped away, leaving Vaida under the brilliant afternoon sun. Outside of the magic circle, her entire command save for her personal wyvern was slain. Her wyvern was currently trussed up like a turkey, being bound so securely that it could not stand on its own feet.

Vaida quickly took stock of her surroundings. Outside of the damnable light rune, several casters, archers and swordsmen were in attendance. Over near her bound flying transportation, a certain Eliwood and green-haired lady were speaking with two cloaked figures. If looks could kill, those four would be food for the crows already. Sensing a look of absolute loathing, the browned-haired individual turned to regard her calmly before speaking.

"As I said, I will now accept your unconditional surrender."

Nearly half a mile away, another surrender was in the making. Hector's group, after having its numbers bolstered with aerial, cavalry and magic support, was pushing the Black Fang warriors step-by-step out of the valley. Marcus and his division, composing the right arm of Hector's little army, was hammering their way deep into the left flank of the Black Fang formation. Overhead, Heath and the three sisters repeatedly performed strafing runs or occasionally launched a javelin or two. All in all, the Black Fang elites could've dealt with all these assaults if not for three minor technicalities. First, the difference in magic was simply devastating. With Pent, Nino and Erk directing spells wherever the Fang was thickly congregated, every step was a potentially life-threatening hazard. Second, the lack of space favored Hector and his comrades. This was proven earlier when a dozen men held back entire companies. And last but not least, Eliwood and Lyn had led their smaller force through a longer route before sneaking behind the oblivious enemy.

After a candle mark's worth of fierce melee, Eliwood, Lyn, and Hector met in the middle of the battle. All around them, faithful comrades, vassals and friends were locked in combat, though the tide was gradually tilting in their favor.

Hector nearly dropped his ax in exhaustion, "Damn it, my hand…"

"Numb, eh?" Eliwood grimaced, "Now you know how I feel whenever I had to block one of your haymakers during practice."

"Shaddup, you're not helping!"

Lyn panted lightly, but still wagged a finger at the two of them, "That's why you need to be swift enough to dodge all the attacks!"

Hector glared at Lyn before muttering underneath his breath, "Women…"

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he amended, "St. Elimine preserve us, she ran off!"

Eliwood nodded, "So should we. We have a battle to win!"

"By the way," Hector asked as the two friends plunged back into the fray, "Where did Matthew go?"

"Matthew?" Eliwood grunted as he spitted an axe man with his rapier, "Mark dispatched him with Karel and Raven somewhere."

Lloyd stopped polishing the Crimson Edge, "Come out, I know you're here."

To his left, a tall swordsman appeared with a thin katana held in hand. To his right, a mercenary with blood-red hair emerged with a long sword. A thief hung out by the shadows, seemingly not interested in the upcoming duel to the death.

"Keep me out of this," the thief called out, "My orders were only to see you guys here."

"I would never ask another man to do my killing for me, Matthew," the swordsman said lazily, "The thirst for battle runs in my veins."

"Easy, Karel," the mercenary said, "I called him first. If I fail…"

"I will kill you both, Raven," Karel said as he leaned against a tree to watch.

The mercenary winced, "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

Lloyd took stock of the three men in front of him. The thief was of little consequence, clearly more interested in gain rather than blood. The swordsman on the other hand…

Karel, the Sword Demon, Lloyd thought to himself, I heard that his swordsmanship is only rivaled by his thirst for blood. He is not one to be taken lightly. If I waste too much time and strength on the mercenary…

Lloyd was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice the long sword flying towards his face. Leaping back, he brought the Crimson Edge up in a high parry before staring at his opponent.

"I am your opponent now," Raven said softly, "Underestimate me and you may not live to regret it."

Another one who boasts of considerable skill, Lloyd realized painfully, he just doesn't flaunt it very well. The two blades clashed and clanged against one another, each seeking a weakness.

"I looked for you on the field of battle," Raven spat as he swung.

Lloyd smiled thinly, "I was not there. The slaughter would've been frightful among your comrades if I was."

Abruptly, Lloyd's sword flashed out like lightning, nicking Raven on the left cheek. Completely unfazed, Raven delivered a ripping, double-handed blow that sent Lloyd leaping backwards. They clashed again, sword to sword and chest to chest, but Raven surprised his opponent by butting his head forward. Caught off guard, Lloyd was stunned for a moment, barely managing to stumble away from Raven's counter.

Lloyd could taste blood in his mouth, but he pulled himself together. The Crimson Edge flashed left and right, forcing the mercenary to parry. With a twist, Lloyd had the long sword twirling in the air away from its wielder. Squaring his shoulders, Lloyd lunged for the kill.

Red blood stained the venerable stone floor leading to the Shrine of Seals.

"Mark, as surely as the gods live, you have no peer in all of Elibe."

"It's been quite a while since I've heard you say that, Lord Hector," the tactician replied mildly.

"Heh," Hector grunted, "I still don't trust you."

"I'm not surprised," Cecilia said dryly.

"Oh yeah," Hector remembered, "Where the hell did you send Matthew anyways?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, "Do you need anything from him? I sent him to Lloyd of the Four Fangs."

"You did WHAT?" Lyn and Hector both shouted.

"Calm yourself," Cecilia chided, "Who said anything about fighting Lloyd?"

"Oh…"

"He was merely a guide for Karel and Raven," Mark said calmly, "Between the two of them, Lloyd will stand no chance. Hello, what's going on?"

A thunderous explosion knocked the four of them flat. Scrambling to their feet, Mark and Cecilia led the two lords in quest of the reason for the disturbance. A twenty yard radius where Eliwood's tent would normally stand was now charred black. Eliwood and Nils were unconscious near the scene of the explosion, and so was…

"Athos? Archsage Athos?" Cecilia asked.

"Eliwood!" Hector shouted, "The hell happened here?"

Athos shook his head sadly, "Nergal took one of the Children of Destiny."

Mark grimaced, "It would be asking too much for him to leave us in peace, right?"

To Lloyd's surprise, Raven wasn't exactly lying in a pool of his own blood. Instead, the mercenary had seized the Crimson Edge in both hands, hence why the blood dripped from the edge. The mercenary evidently learned some sort of basic hand-to-hand combat somewhere.

Lloyd caught wind of some sort of motion behind him. Before the man could sufficiently turn around, Karel delivered the finishing slash that stretched Lloyd across the stone floor.

Raven dropped the Crimson Edge from his bloody hands, "You couldn't act a little sooner, could you?"

Karel cleaned his sword on Lloyd's tunic, "I was hoping to get you both in that slash."

"Good thing I stepped back then," Raven winced.

A yawn captured their undivided attention. Matthew yawned again and stretched before getting back to his feet. The thief had the audacity to take a nap while one of his comrades was almost split in two!

"Oh, is he dead?" Matthew asked, "Good, now let's get back to camp. Lowen's on dinner duty again."

Chapter complete, thank you for reading.