Symmetry
Chapter Four: Sword and Shield
When Castle Renais appeared in the distance, Franz had almost been rocked into a doze by the horse's speedy saunter. Fortunately, Forde's horse had already proven its intelligence, and did so again by stopping when it reached the edge of the forest, out of sight of even the sharpest-eyed sentries. The cavalier and passenger soldier shook awake and alert, disturbed by the sudden stillness. Ahead of them, the field stretched almost flat from the edge of the trees to the castle's land.
"Are those soldiers on the gate?" asked Amelia, squinting.
"Mm-hmm," Franz confirmed. "I already had to sneak past them once. I don't think they're going to shrug off a random charge for the second time."
"I could take you prisoner," Amelia offered. Franz raised an eyebrow. "You're not that much taller than me." They both looked at the anonymous armor he was wearing, and the Renais crest on her collar-plate. She frowned. "You could take me prisoner," she relented.
"No, they'd probably recognised me and Forde's horse anyway. Plus we don't know what they do with prisoners." He stared across the wide field, not over it, but at the tall grass waving gently in the breeze, rippling like green water. Many improvements had been made to Castle Renais when it was rebuilt, and while Ephraim didn't like secret exits, Eirika had plenty of influence in the planning stage, and they did need somewhere to store all those artefacts…
"You're not worried that we're horribly outnumbered? And don't try to twist it around into some kind of joke; I already did that and I ended up breaking something," Amelia warned him. On that thought, she reached down to untie the bandage, and found that her ankle was in perfect condition again.
"Well, I didn't have a frontal assault in mind, but I was planning for us to be very well-armed. Think you can carry everything you want to bring in?" Franz asked, sliding out of the saddle with some difficulty. He started rummaging through the saddlebags, picking out elixirs and the like. "We won't need weapons."
"You must have very convincing philosophical arguments," said Amelia, hopping down more gracefully. "I can't see the guards too clearly, but I can definitely see their weapons. I've had smaller pets."
Franz looked up, deciding that there wasn't much that they wouldn't be able to get soon anyway. "I thought you liked birds."
"The size of the pets is not the point," Amelia pressed on as he tied the reins to a low branch. "Franz… I can trust you and still be scared."
He nodded as he took her hand. "Me too. Let's go," he said, and pulled.
"Oof!"
"Sorry, should have warned you," Franz said quickly, as they landed side by side on the ground. "We can get closer through the grass – you know how to do the soldier crawl?"
"Shoulders and elbows, yeah," Amelia said. "And this time it's not even through a swamp."
"There are swamps near here?" he asked as they started into the grass.
"Gerik once told me 'The peaks of Caer Pelyn would flood if a mercenary band set up camp there'."
"Words to live by."
"What about 'you must be the change you want to see in the world'?"
"I'm trying, I'm trying."
It was slow going across the field, even when the gently rolling terrain was in their favour; neither of them dared do anything that might create an odd ripple in the grass and warn the enemy sentries. The grass protected them from sight on all sides, but it also kept the wind away from them, while the sun had returned with renewed vigour to try to melt the paint off Amelia's armor. And for a field that looked so soft from above, there were a surprising number of sharp rocks just sticking out of the earth. Franz was certain that, by sheer bad luck, he had managed to take the route that passed over all of them.
They made implacable progress anyway, giving the castle a wide berth until they reached the eastern side, gratefully rising off bruised joints. "So now we're much closer and still stuck outside," Amelia observed.
"You're kinda quick to criticise, aren't you?" asked Franz.
"It's probably pent up," she decided. "Give me one of these soldiers and I'll gripe him into submission. …The next part of the plan isn't to climb the wall, is it?"
"Ergh, no," he assured her. Slightly further along, the mortared stone angled out and back in again, looking a bit like a very blocky bulge in the wall. A sturdy steel plate was set into it, smooth and featureless. Franz felt around the stones for a while, apparently found one to his liking, and thumped it with his fist. "Agh," Franz moaned, recoiling. "Oh, ouch… wrong side. Get the other one, will you?"
Amelia blinked. "What?"
"Symmetrically opposite – same place relative to the door, but on your side," he explained.
Dubiously, she did so, and found that this one sunk into the wall a bit, absorbing the impact. The steel plate fell open, revealing only darkness within. Amelia followed the wall-bulge to the top. "Franz, this is a chimney. They go down. Into lots of fire."
"Looks like it, doesn't it?" he agreed. "I didn't want to say anything, in case we were being watched. This is the, ah… elite armory." The part about not needing weapons was suddenly much clearer. Amelia clambered inside, found that there were rungs set into the wall, and started down, with Franz following and pulling the door shut behind them. It should have left them in total darkness, but there was still a faint glow coming from below.
Only twenty feet below ground, they came into a low-ceilinged room with equipment racks covering the walls. Castle Renais didn't really have a treasury any more, having spent a huge amount on restoration efforts across Magvel, but they did have the elite armory. Illumination was provided by light brands, and their glow glinted off an array of masterful weaponry. Amelia wondered if she would be able to carry all that she wanted – there was an entire actual rack of brave lances.
"This is getting better," she agreed fervently. "I mean, I'm still not–"
"Seth said that I've been ready for this for a while," said Franz, distantly. "He wanted – wants – to make sure I'm ready for the responsibility it brings, but right now I think he'll admit that the power has its uses, too." The cavalier reached into a sturdy chest, straightened into a perfectly disciplined knight pose, and held the Knight Crest over his heart.
The lights were quite dramatic.
When she had recovered from most of the phantasmagorical afterimages, Amelia saw that Franz was back in his preferred armor, green as new spring growth, and now with a white shield slung on his back. It was hard to tell precisely what else was different about him; it was more the feeling that if a Tarvos tackled him it would bounce off with a concussion. It wasn't that he couldn't die. Just that today wasn't the day, and tomorrow didn't look good either.
"Not that that isn't… uh… attractive, in a plated-with-steel way, but aren't I just even deadweightier now, in comparison?" Amelia asked.
"Never," said Franz, holding up a hand and studying it. "…Do I look palatial?"
"I'm pretty sure that means 'like a palace', not 'like a paladin'. Anyway, if these work on knights and cavaliers, I don't see why recruits should get left out," she said.
"Because recruits always choose whether they want to be knights or cavaliers first," said Franz, who would have been more sympathetic if an entrancingly inscribed silver blade hadn't just caught his eye.
"Well I haven't!" she growled at the remaining crests. "I've been a recruit for ages. Sometimes it feels like I'm going to be a recruit my whole life." She snatched up one of the red-and-bronze shields, as everyone knew she would.
Franz spun a complete circle, searching for the source of the sudden echoing voice, before he noticed the crest shining in Amelia's fist. Words filled the armory like a battalion speaking in chorus, but he couldn't understand any of it.
"This one is unique," Amelia whispered as she stared unblinkingly ahead. Something about her words sounded like a recitation, and Franz wondered if she was translating the echoing voices "Talent, skill, experience, yes, but openness as well, and determination to make that openness into a great strength. Even when she believes she has no hope, she will not bend. And she is always learning… Let it be that she will never break."
Altogether, the lights were even better this time.
The startled axefighter toppled and Eirika sheathed her rapier. He was the last one, although it was beyond her imagining why that summoner would send fighters to the castle library of all places. Hardly mattered now. She needed to find Lute's monster books, and very quickly. If the young sage had seen fit not to fill them with notes on her own brilliance or Artur's curious traits, that would be even better.
And, considering that there were five dead intruders scattered about the castle library's aisles, it would be very good if the book she needed had an eye-catching cover and was lying alone on an end table with a bookmark in the chapter on the weaknesses of monsters given hyperpowers by ancient dark magic. At least, it was very likely to be ancient. For some reason it seemed that all the worst evils were old, possibly because they had so much practice at it.
Halfway up a wheeled ladder, Eirika kicked at the inside face of the shelves and rolled toward the other end, catching book titles as they passed. At least, most of the titles. Magnolias in Alchemical … Manifesting Anima … Matriarchies of the … Mediating Arts … Microscopy … Mimes … Mon– yes! –uments of the Sixth CenturyRausten Cathedrals. …What happened to 'Monsters'! The ladder collided with the far end of the shelves, jolting Eirika out of her indignation. She dropped to the floor, wondering what sort of world let this happen, and a glint of gold caught her eye. Against the wall, a single shining tome lay on a small table, with a feathered bookmark sticking out the top.
Ah.
She pounced on the book and opened it to the bookmark, searching the page immediately. Upon the mastery of inscribing within the gothic font described in chapter six, a novice may wish to develop a personal touch, such as a particular type of fruits or mythical beings– Eirika slammed it shut. The glittering cover declared itself to be Perfecting the Art of Text Illumination. The capital letters were huge, fancy, lined with gold ink, and held an entire salad's worth of fruit. She dropped it like a flaming snake.
All right, where in blazes was the… Eirika paused. In that last battle with an axefighter, a few books had been dislodged from the shelves. One particularly large one lay face up in the middle of the aisle, where a revenant glared up hungrily from its cover. Carefully, realising that she didn't want to attract attention from outside the library, the princess knelt by the giant tome and began the search again.
Amelia groaned, shook her head to clear it, and silently demanded to know why magical artefacts of enhancement always seemed to insist on making the user feel like they had been put through an automatic laundering device. She recalled being issued with speedwings by one of the better Grado captains. For hours after using them, the world had been blurred, possibly because her eyes kept trembling in her head. On the plus side, Franz was now looking at her with concern, which was one of his cuter expressions.
"Nngh?" she asked, straightening from where she had fallen over the hauberk shelves.
"Um," he answered, equally coherent.
"Hey. What am I?" Amelia asked, remembering most of what had happened. She raised a hand. It looked the same. So did the rest of her armor. And, distantly disappointing, Franz was still taller than her. "I look exactly the same!" A thought struck her, and she accidentally spun a complete circle before remembering that she had to turn her neck to look behind. "What? I don't even have wings!"
"If I ask you what those voices were… you'd have no idea what I was talking about, right?" asked Franz, slowly.
"What?"
"Right. Just checking. Um… I thought you looked good to start with, if it means anything," he volunteered.
"Everything and nothing," Amelia replied, looking like she was about to vent steam. "This is not fair. I just want to help – wha… agh!" With the word 'help', she had irritably kicked a discarded helmet, but it hadn't hurt her foot. What it had done was rocket across the room, ricochet off a beam, clip the ceiling, and come careening back at them at head height. Both ducked to let it pass. Hostile projectiles always have the right of way.
Franz followed the trajectory again with his eyes, did some quick mental calculations, and took a swing at her. Amelia caught his fist instantly, without seeming to put much effort into stopping its momentum. In fact, it took her a moment to register what had happened.
"You tried to hit me!" Amelia protested.
"I would have stopped in time, I was just testing!" he insisted.
"Heroes, recruits, insane sergeants… males of all ages are bizarre," she muttered, letting him go. Franz deftly intertwined their fingers before she pulled away, refusing to lose contact with her. Amelia picked up the lances she had chosen, slipping one into the holding straps on her back. Neither felt as heavy as before, either.
"What's next?" Amelia asked.
"My plan didn't really get any further than this," Franz admitted. "But I think cutting off their reinforcements would be a start."
She squeezed his hand. "Better than a walk in the park," said the recruit. She had always liked this armor anyway.
Eirika's focus had cut out the rest of the world; all that existed was the words on the page in front of her. If she let her world's boundaries extend up to the royal chambers and the paladin there, whose fate she didn't know, there was no chance that Rationality and Forethought were going to hold back Indiscriminate Fury from causing total havoc. If that weren't likely to doom them all, it wouldn't have sounded like a bad idea to her.
The chapters on gorgons were mostly things that she already knew – that they laid eggs only in very hot places, like the magma vents in the east, and that they could only see the parts of light on either side of human vision, the infrared and the ultraviolet. Did anyone not know that they hunted with void spells and petrifaction curses?
But there was nothing about excessively large creatures with dark scales that followed anyone's orders. Lute had made notes on how suicidal it would be to attempt to tame them, and even added '…not that it would be worth the effort, hideous brutes that they are', which was quite rare for her. Lute had mixed feelings about monsters, and the mix was of the sort that changed colour and went blorp'ck if you tried to stir it. Eirika was starting to think she had wasted her time when the last page grabbed her eyes and shouted read me.
…Considering the nature of some books on monsters, it should be made clear that was just a metaphor.
'Legends do speak of the deeper darkness, a force that supposedly dwells within these single-form monsters, waiting to be unlocked and allowed to twist them, as terrible ferocity can shape revenants into entombed and baels into elderbaels. No known wild specimens have been encountered, but the papers of the late Mad Magus Malavol claim that he created several of them, only to see them lost when the Sacred Stones sealed away Fomortiis and eradicated the Demon King's army. Malavol was intending to create a talisman of control when an experiment backfired and reconstructed him as a reclining chair, a volume of free verse poetry, and a set of cat-themed knick-knacks.'
That was all they needed. A resurrected dark mage, or a brilliant sorcerer with a strange choice of idols; Eirika didn't really care if the summoner was Malavol or not. The Gorgon was vulnerable to the sacred power, and the Princess of Renais, with her bracelet of the moon, knew exactly where to find some in a convenient sword-shaped container.
The lieutenant didn't know why so many of his fighters were being kept in the castle courtyard, especially when it was clear that the summoner wanted to find whatever he was looking for as fast as bloody possible. He had seen – very briefly, at a distance, with a protective blindfold at the ready – the snake monster they had as their best weapon, and was leaning against one of the Renais guards who had apparently thought that being turned to stone was something that happened to other people. What was there to guard against?
Rennac had been the one to advise it, explaining to the summoner that the knights out on training could return at any time, and it would be best to have the defences ready to hold them off until the Sacred Stone could be obtained. It had been a good point; the last thing they wanted was a surprise from behind, after taking the castle so neatly. Rennac was full of good advice.
It was possible that no one had told him about the secret entrance, nor the elite armory.
Franz burst out of a side passage to the castle foyer, using his few free moments –as everyone tried to determine if he was on their side or not– to hurl the locking bars into place across both doors and pointedly cleave off the handgrips with his blade. By the time the first man had thought to shout 'Get him!', Amelia had dealt that man a hammer-blow from behind, causing him to crumple almost silently. Then the entrance hall erupted into pure chaos.
The first matter was to cross the hall; both knights would have an easier time of it with an ally at their backs. Of course, there were more than a dozen rather gruff mercenaries that intended to see them not only remain separated, but be subdivided even further, and they had a number of edged implements to help them in that effort. Franz started by carving an incoming axe-head in half with a mighty swing, which made the next attackers hesitate a little more.
Amelia couldn't quite do the same, being devoted to lancewomanship, but she was able to fend foes off in clusters, and her lance darted about with the nimbleness of a silver-scaled viper. The 'super recruit' batted swords away easily, usually following each parry with a thrust that darted between armor plates with the sort of accuracy that turned up in tales of Prince Innes' archery tournaments. Axes had the weight to drive closer, so Amelia let them, dodging their awkward sweeps to lure her foes closer for a thrashing.
The mercenaries had heard many stories of the Renais army, and waded into battle with some hesitation, wondering what kind of tricks these two could perform, but as the seconds passed without either of them breathing fire or beheading four men with a single slash, they pressed harder. They were outnumbered, right? Just a couple of kids who thought they could pull off some kind of miracle and save the day. The warriors of Carcino would show them a thing or…
Then Amelia flipped her grip on her lance, planted it firmly on the floor, and vaulted over one merc to land boot-first in the face of another, and neatly covering the last of the distance between herself and Franz. It would have been nice to spare a motivational moment, but instead she turned, letting her focus narrow to just the hundred-eighty degrees in front of her. Her lance swung up, smashing into one foe's jaw, smacked away another's sword, tripped a third, punched straight through a fourth's armor, and swung back to thump the second merc senseless as he reached for his weapon.
At her back, Franz was fighting rather more frantically, as his sword didn't have a lance's reach, but he was all the faster for it. The new paladin appeared to be wielding little more than a shining blur that clashed with every opponent's weapon at once, as though he were directing and performing a discordant symphony at the same time. Few opportunities were coming up for killing blows, but some of the invaders were falling just as the injuries racked up. Still, it would be better to get moving.
Franz backed up until he collided lightly with Amelia. "Switch," he bit out, deflecting an overhead strike by sheer stubbornness. Amelia didn't bother nodding, just stepped back and pivoted at the same time as Franz, trading foes. It was a trick older than Fomortiis, and it got to be that old because people really did get into rhythms of battle, and then every surprise is a new weapon. Franz had all the room they had been giving Amelia's lance, while she was able to get past every sword-optimised guard.
One at a time, and faster as the opposition lost allies, the mercenaries fell to lance and sword, until the only sound was the heavy breathing of paladin and recruit, punctuated by the occasional groan from an unconscious enemy.
Franz looked his old rival over, then suddenly stopped as he realised she might misunderstand his intent. "Are you all right? …Sheesh, did they even touch you?"
"Yeah, side of the shin and just below the shoulder," said Amelia, as though it were normal to walk through a ridiculously uneven fray with nothing more than a couple of scratches. "…Turns out I still hate killing people."
"That's okay. You're supposed to," said Franz, looking at the battered fallen. "Although I'll probably feel less charitable when we find whoever's behind this. It's got to be a mage of some kind. Petrifying magic. Probably plotted the whole thing out."
Her eyes seemed to flare, like a fire with copper thrown in. "Right. Anyone who plans a war I can probably impale without compunction. …Sacred Stones again?"
"It's hard to imagine why else anyone would intentionally attack Castle Renais. And one way or another, they're sure to head to the royal court eventually. Let's meet them there."
Thunk, thunk, thunk. Someone was knocking on the giant wooden doors. "Hey!" a muffled voice yelled. "What's the problem in there? Sounds like bloody pandemonium!"
"Nothing that concerns you," Franz growled deeply, trying not to be distracted when Amelia clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. "Get back to work unless you're volunteering for a post in a sculpture garden." He glared at Amelia, lowering his voice. "Oh, hush. I'd like to see you do better."
"Race you to the throne room," the recruit whispered, taking off to the stairs. Keeping his sword drawn, Franz followed, waiting to be ambushed at every turn. Amelia seemed to think she was invulnerable now, and after that melee she might have had a point, but Seth and Princess Eirika were still counting on them.
Halfway up the spiralling turret stairs, he nearly ran headfirst into Amelia's back, being too focused on listening for pursuit. "What's the… oh," said Franz, looking up to see the massive brigand standing in front of them. His shoulders brushed both walls; slipping past was out of the question. The brigand grinned unpleasantly.
"Which side of the castle are we on?" asked Amelia, staring straight ahead.
"Western wall," Franz replied flatly.
"I hope you… actually, no, I don't care if you can swim or not," she told the giant axeman. He glared at her, brought his weapon down in a guillotine chop, and Franz lunged ahead to deflect the attack. Amelia, unfazed, bashed one of his knees with the end of her lance, smacked the other from behind to destabilize him, and finished with a shoulder tackle to the solar plexus. The brigand staggered backwards, hit the windowsill, and tumbled out with a furious roar that ended in a massive splash.
"Ah. Moat," said Franz. "What happened to you trusting me and being scared?"
"Don't worry, the first part still applies," she said lightly.
A shout echoed down the stairs: "What the hell was that? Sounds like Gunter's found someone to maim."
"I think it's possible we've lost the element of secrecy," Amelia admitted.
"But not surprise. Keep going."
They reached the third floor moments before the Carcino soldiers; Franz fended the first one off – that is, stabbed him in both legs – and then darted through before Amelia slammed the door shut and moved a handy statue against it as a barricade. In fact, on closer inspection…
"Don't I know him?" she asked.
Franz squinted at the statue's slightly obscured features. "Oh. Sorry, Geoffrey. Try to think of it as holding your ground in the name of the king."
An arrow interrupted by bouncing off the stone soldier's helmet and embedding itself in the door. The paladin and recruit leapt against opposite walls and flattened themselves out as several more shots followed from the archers at the other end of the hall. Thankfully, the support pillars provided some cover, and it hadn't occurred to their attackers to take turns firing. Instead of keeping up a steady rate, there was a moment's calm while the archers readied their bows again – a calm that Franz and Amelia immediately went about breaking with a determined charge and battle cries.
One archer had thought ahead, and waited until Amelia came out of cover before loosing his shot. Even as the bowstring went twong her lance was sweeping up, deflecting the shot with impossible accuracy. "Holy–" the archer began, and then the lance hit him.
Bow-users are notoriously useless in close combat, and so the fight didn't last long. Another one went out the window, landing with a satisfying splash in the moat. It was dug too deeply for him to climb out of; possibly he would find Gunter the brigand and they could chat until the Knights of Renais found them. Meanwhile, Franz and Amelia subdued – sometimes permanently – the last of the archers and ran on. They could hear boots, lots of them, and all stomping at a run.
The two wound their way to the centre of the castle, pausing at the last turn. Amelia kept rear guard while Franz peered around the corner, checking the situation outside the throne room. "Hmm…" He turned back to whisper to his companion. "The mercenaries say you stole their idea."
"What?"
"The corridor is packed with petrified guards, like those terracotta warriors that used to get buried with emperors and stuff. There's a blockade of them on both side of the door to the throne room. It's going to take some effort to get through without breaking anyone on our side."
"Any real enemies?" she asked.
"Of course. Two warriors behind the barricade. Looks like one's got a swordslayer. We'll both be at a disadvantage."
Amelia looked down, as she always did when trying to think of a plan. In this case, her eyes fell on the blue carpet they had lain down in this part of the castle; it wasn't stuck to the floor, and had bunched up where her foot had slid away from the wall. She moved it back and forth a few times, watching the fabric ripple up and flatten out again. The repetitions caught Franz's eye as well.
"What are… oh, you can't be serious," he insisted, catching on.
"Hush. I'd like to see you do better," she countered with a half-grin, echoing his remarks at the front gate.
The warriors caught sight of them as soon as they rounded the corner, but waited patiently. If the two didn't try to come through the barricade of statues, then they were someone else's problem, and if they did, then the best time to start hacking would be just before they had a chance to draw their weapons properly. Axefighters without patience don't generally live long enough to become true warriors.
Amelia's plan, of course, confounded patience and everything it stood for. Franz swung his sword in a wide, low slice just before the barrier, cutting through the carpet from one side to the other, then backed up to rejoin the recruit. They hit the stone soldiers at a run and kept shoving, quickly building up momentum. With the carpet to reduce friction, Franz and Amelia moved the entire wall, letting the fabric pile up on the other side and drastically reducing the space between the two makeshift walls until they enemy warriors were pinned between statues.
"Surrender," Franz offered.
One of the warriors brought his axe up to the neck of the first stone soldier at hand. "I'll kill him."
Franz didn't doubt that the man was serious, or that he could manage it. He thrust his blade neatly under the arm of one statue and through the warrior. "Wrong answer," he informed the survivor, who dropped his axe and bent his head. Amelia obligingly clocked him with the heavy end of her lance, and he slumped against the stone soldiers.
That left the door to the throne room clear behind them, and the scarring of dark magic across its formerly sturdy lock wasn't lost on either one. They leaned against its surface lightly, trying to hear what might be happening within – mostly silence, a faint hissing, and perhaps nothing but the blood pounding in their ears, but also possibly a deep, arcane chant.
"Right on target," said Franz.
"That's a good thing, is it?" asked Amelia, responding to his scowl with a wink.
The paladin took a deep breath. "I'll be your sword."
"And I'll be your shield."
They turned and kicked the doors open.