My chapters are getting longer, but my author's notes are getting shorter...perhaps it is because I tire of them? If you need me to tell you that I don't own any part of Fire Emblem...I am running out of mocking names to call you. But I mock you, do not doubt.

Five: Dark Words, Dark Skies

After two weeks of hard riding, Roy, Lilina, and their companions were still three days from Ostia. The road had been difficult, as they had decided to cross the Central Range to save time, only to get caught in a thunderstorm and seek shelter in roadside caves. Now they were near the Etrurian border, camped a league off the road in a forest clearing. Though the campfire gave off plenty of light, the darkness of the new moon felt oppressive. Roy, for one, did not like it.

He looked up at the sky. The stars were not even shining. A brooding storm that seemed to follow them since they had left the mountains shadowed the already dark night. Roy had never been afraid of the dark, but the gathering storm made him uneasy.

His eyes turned to his companions around the campfire. Rebecca was sitting on a blanket oiling the arrows she had taken from her quiver. Her green hair looked brown in the firelight, but when she looked at Roy, her green eyes always sparkled. Lowen sat between Rebecca and Lilina, telling the raven-haired girl stories of the Second Scouring, letting Rebecca interject when his retellings got out of hand. Victor had gone off some time ago to get more firewood. Roy thought he should have been back by now. Victor confused him. At times he laughed with the group, but at other times he was distant and lonely, his eyes smoldering with some cool fire that was unknown to Roy. He shuddered. Victor reminded him too much of a thunderstorm.

"Hah! Point for me!" Zechary and Phillip's swords rang out in the silent night as they fenced. Roy turned to watch the young swordsmen. They were impeccably good swordfighters, especially when they fought each other. Roy looked on in awe as their blaze of the fire reflected on their swords arcing and slashing. Suddenly, Zechary's sword got under Phillip's counter and touched his breastplate with a gigantic clang.

"Honestly, Phillip. Are you even trying?" Zechary laughed and changed to guard position again.

"Yes, and you beat me again." Phillip stabbed his sword into the ground and sat on the wet grass. "I'm done for the night."

Zechary shrugged, then looked at Roy with shining blue eyes. Throwing his hair out of his face with a flick of his head, he said, "Roy! Why don't you fence me?"

"Me?" Roy wasn't sure it was such a good idea. He had fenced with the guard before, sure...but Zechary and Phillip were so good!

"Come on! I'll take it easy on you!" Zechary threw his shield to the ground. "I won't even use my shield."

Roy shrugged. Lilina gave him a wide eyed smile, pleading him to do it. Roy sighed and got out his normal sword. It didn't feel right to practice with the sword his father had given him. That blade lay sleeping in his saddlebag, wrapped in a burlap canvas.

Facing Zechary in the clearing, Roy stood still in guard position, waiting for Zechary to attack first. Though he wasn't visibly shaking, his mind was racing, thinking about all the sword maneuvers his father and Lowen had taught him in his training.

Suddenly Zechary's sword lashed out, and Roy's was there to meet the strike. Quickly he countered, but Zechary stepped out of the way and thrust again, a tactic Roy countered with ease.

They attacked and parried and lunged and hacked for what seemed like hours. Soon sweat was dripping from Roy's brow and stinging as it met his focused eyes. His travel clothes were soaked through, but–he noticed with satisfaction–so were Zechary's.

"What do you say, Roy? Next point takes all?" Zechary was panting for breath, but Roy was merely winded.

"All right. Next point." Roy smiled and lunged.

Zechary barely had time to dodge that blow, and the next one he barely managed to parry. He sword slipped in his grip, and he slipped on the dew-soaked grass. Roy stepped and swung forcefully toward the ground, just as Zechary rolled up and countered, throwing himself forward in a gigantic leaping thrust.

His father used this tactic all the time, so Roy knew exactly how to defend against it. Roy raised his sword and slid under Zechary, blocking his strike, then turned and sliced behind him with his sword. Steel met leather, and a great tear was heard. Zechary's backplate split in two and fell to the ground. Roy stood and smiled. "My point takes. Good match."

Zechary couldn't shake an incredulous smile as he shook the young prince's hand. He had always thought royals were weak swordsmen, but Roy had proved him wrong. Perhaps he wouldn't have to babysit the prince when it came time to fight, after all.

The clouds above the clearing began to disperse, and the light of the stars shone bright in the moonless night. Mikhail emerged from the clearing looking tired but awake. "Who won the swordfight?"

"Our young prince," said Victor, as he too emerged from the trees carrying a load of firewood. "I must say, it sounded like quite a fight. You could've heard those clashes from a league away." He gave Roy a hard look as he said those last words.

"Sorry. I forgot we could be watched. It was my fault." Zechary was sitting by the fire now, watching as Rebecca sewed his leather practice armor back together.

Victor muttered indifferently and took a place by the fire as well. Mikhail walked over to Roy and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry. I doubt anyone is following us already. At least, I cannot sense anyone with magical power in the area." Mikhail smiled.

"What were you doing, in the trees?" It was Lilina who spoke now. She had been watching Rebecca sew, but she obviously found Roy and Mikhail's conversation more interesting. "I mean, not to intrude, of course. I just..."

"Haven't met a magic user before?" Mikhail offered.

Lilina nodded. Roy noticed her eyes glittering in the starlight, and his heart almost skipped a beat.

"It's okay." Mikhail's warm smile was reassuring. Roy rarely met anyone at House Pherae whose smile was so inviting. "I was meditating and re-reading my books of magic."

"You have to re-read them?" Lilina looked concerned, and confused. "Why do you have to do that? Don't you get bored with them?"

Mikhail laughed. "I don't get bored with them, no. Particularly since they never quite say the same thing twice." Roy didn't think such a thing was possible, but he somehow believed it because it came from Mikhail. "Also, because magic has a way of...forgetting itself. It's always there, but I just have to remind myself of the spells every now and again. Does that make sense?"

"Not really..." Lilina was obviously not convinced, but she smiled and bid Roy goodnight. Then she bowed to Mikhail and ran off for her tent.

"Could I see one of your books?" Roy asked. They sounded quite interesting, and he had only seen them in the presence of the court mages, who were testy and didn't like a young prince intruding into their higher plane of existence.

"I suppose. You won't be able to read it, anyway...or open it, for that matter." Mikhail set his pack on the ground and rummaged around in it. Finally, his hand emerged clutching a book bound in green leather and clasped with tarnished bronze. As Mikhail handed it to him, Roy thought it shimmered in the starlight. But as he held it in his hands, he could see that there were markings crawling on the leather surface. He gasped. They were moving at a good pace, but he tried to make them out anyway.

"They're written in the language of magic. You won't be able to read it," Mikhail said matter-of-factly. Roy scowled and stared at the markings. Somewhere in his mind, he was aware of some kind of knowledge that was fighting to rise to the surface. He tried without success to probe it for information, but he couldn't seem to reach it. Sighing, he handed the book back to Mikhail. "I can't read it...but I can't help feeling like it's familiar."

Mikhail's eyes darkened, and he stared at Roy. "That's odd," he said with some sort of finality, and left Roy wondering what he had meant.

Roy looked back up to the sky again, searching for some sort of answer to this suddenly nagging question. He stared at the stars, and suddenly, some of them blacked out. He blinked and looked again. Whatever it was, the shadow was getting bigger, which meant it was getting closer. "Mikhail! There's something flying towards us!"

The mage turned to the sky and put on a monocle that he had hidden in a pocket of his robes. There was no magic aura from the shadow, but the magnification of the glass told him it was a winged beast. "Damn," he said, and sat down his pack. "I didn't think would have to deal with the wyverns so soon. Lowen!"

The knight stood and looked to where Mikhail was pointing. Swearing loudly, he called for Lilina. Rebecca nocked an arrow and pointed it at the sky, squinting to see better in the darkness. The sparks that crackled on Mikhail's fingers as he muttered a spell were the only sounds breaking the silence as they waited for their attacker to get in range.

Roy had run to his pack and drawn the unnamed sword. For some reason, he felt safer with its mysterious blade in his hand. He stood between Lilina–who bore a javelin that she favored in practices–and the twins, swords in hand. They stood still, hoping that their enemy would not see them.

The shadow was still getting closer when Lilina whispered, "Roy...do you hear that? It sounds like someone shouting from far away."

Roy listened. Sure enough, he heard a distant cry. It didn't sound like a war cry, though. It sounded like...

"Feria!" Mikhail shouted from behind them, and ran forward.

"What are you doing, mage?" Lowen hissed. "Do you want to get us all killed?"

"Wait." Rebecca was still squinting, but she had lowered her bow. "It's not a wyvern...it's a Peg Knight!"

"I know that voice," Mikhail insisted, running to the edge of the clearing, banishing the flashing sparks from his hands. "Feria!"

The magnificent winged horse came to a graceful rest in front of the group. Her rider had long pink hair bound with silver circlets and loops that matched her silver armor, which was etched with a winged horse and a willow tree–the crest of Ilia. Her voice and face were etched with concern as she dismounted and embraced Mikhail. "Mikhail! Thank the Gods I found you! I got to Pherae a day after you left, and the Marquess told me the road you were taking." A tear slid down her cheek. "Oh, Mikhail. It's awful! Bern has attack Meroven Keep!"

Mikhail's face went ashen. "They wouldn't dare!"

Feria sobbed. "It's true. The army attacked all six gates at the same time, and each army is led by a powerful Druid. All the masters at Reglay have been trying to hold them off, but it's a losing battle." She wiped her eyes. "Lord Pent is considering joining the fight himself."

"No! He musn't!" Mikhail yelled. "Oh, this is horrible, Feria!" He looked at Roy. "Roy, I am sorry, but I really must leave for Meroven. The castle...and Lord Pent, they need protecting."

"I understand, Mikhail." Roy looked at Lowen, who gave him a questioning glance. Then he addressed Mikhail. "If it would help, I will take some of my company with you to help defend Meroven." Roy knew this wasn't the plan, but something told him that he had to do all he could to help. That, and the nagging questions about the recent events that pervaded his thoughts.

"But, Lord Roy...someone must report this news to the Lycian League," Lowen said.

"I know, Lowen." Roy looked at Lilina, who was already staring at him with her crimson eyes.

"I will go, Roy," she whispered softly. "You can go with Mikhail. I will report to my father and ask for reinforcements for Meroven." She smiled. "I'll meet you at the city."

He gripped her arms. "You can't go alone. Take Lowen with you." He turned and nodded to Lowen, who bowed and mounted his horse.

"Be careful, Roy."

"You too, Lilina."

The two nobles hugged, and Lilina mounted her horse. With a parting stare and a whisper of "goodbye", Lilina and Lowen rode off towards Ostia.

"We must hurry, Prince Roy. The enemy is gaining ground by the moment." Feria had her winged steed again. "If it is your Majesty's wish, Mikhail and I can fly ahead and notify Lord Pent of your arrival."

"That is fine. Go now, swiftly." Roy bowed to Feria. Mikhail mounted the pegasus too, and they lifted off with a rush of wind, flying off into the night.

"My lord, your horse." Phillip handed Roy the reins, and he mounted his own horse as Roy did. Rebecca, Zechary, and Victor followed suit.

"Let us ride for Meroven. Come! To Etruria's aid!"

As they galloped northward, Roy looked up to the sky and couldn't help feeling a chill crawl down his spine. The stormclouds had once again gathered, and lightning splintered them with a ghastly glow. He sighed as the clouds tore asunder and dumped rain on the travelers. It was going to be a long ride.