Firelight

A/N: This chapter is out early for Omni, by request and because he's awesome. I've done my best to rid the thing of spelling errors/typos, but do let me know if I've missed one.

Chapter Three: Endless Night

Ross was annoyed.

He didn't like having to ride in the convoy. He didn't like that it bounced and jostled through the sand. He didn't like that all the bouncing and jostling only made everything hurt worse. He didn't like that Eirika's brother had been grumpy and snappish for the past three hours. He really didn't like that he had been taken down so easily.

The floor bounced more heavily than usual. Groaning, Ross sat up, finding himself staring at Ewan's blue cape and red hair. The mage had hopped up to sit on the back of the cart, which had been left open. He was humming to himself and doing something with his hands that Ross couldn't see.

"Don't make too much noise," he grumbled, and Ewan started, looking back over his shoulder as though he expected an attack.

"Oh, Ross. It's just you." Ewan laughed, flushing red. "I don't know what I thought it was…guess I'm just jumpy."

"I said, be quiet. Don't wake that prince up again." Ross shook his head. "What are you doing, anyway? Shouldn't you be with Saleh?"

"He's up there being stuffy." Ewan frowned toward the front of the cart. "Talking with General Seth and Prince Innes and Sir Kyle about…I don't know. It was too boring to listen to."

"I haven't seen Dad all day. Know where he is?" Ross looked hopeful. Ewan caught the look and felt the beginnings of sympathy for him.

"Yeah, he's off comparing axe technique with Dozla. I think."

"Any idea where we are?"

"In the desert." Ewan grinned when Ross rolled his eyes. "Hey, you asked." Ross glared at him, but that only widened his grin. "We should be close to the end of the desert, though. Hopefully there'll be a town or something we can stop in for the night. I don't want to wake up to some monster trying to skewer me."

"If you mages had any kind of defense at all, you wouldn't have to worry," Ross taunted.

"Us mages are up and walking."

"Give it up, Ross," said Amelia softly from the other side of the cart. "You're not going to win."

"Oh, Amelia, did we wake you up?" Ewan asked, looking concerned. "I'm sorry."

"I was awake already," she replied, sitting up and waving one hand at him. "You worry too much."

"He's been around Saleh and Kyle for too long," Ross said with a smirk. Ewan made a face at him.

"I did hear what you said about finding a town, though. I don't know if…" Amelia looked around once, lowering her voice. "…if Ephraim plans to let us stop. Earlier he sounded…really driven."

"You were listening?" Ross was stunned. Ewan looked disheartened.

"If it was your sister, Ewan, or your father, Ross, wouldn't you want to just keep on going until you found her?" Amelia considered this for a second. "Or him?"

The boys looked at one another, then at the same time stared at the floor of the cart.

"So much for wishing for a soft bed tonight," Ross grumbled. Ewan offered him a lazy smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ross. I'll keep you entertained with the marble game." Reaching into a pocket, Ewan pulled out a handful of marbles and began to juggle.

"But we're moving," Ross argued, staring hard at the marbles. "They should drop off the end of the cart."

"Not necessarily," Amelia countered. "And speak quietly, Ross. He could be tossing them back toward himself, so we would move to catch up with them."

Ross muttered something and lay back down, wishing he could roll over with his back to them, but too many broken things stopped him.

"Sorry, Ross. I'm just bored. …I can go walk now, if you want." Ewan put the marbles away. "You guys should probably sleep anyway. The last thing I need is for Natasha or crazy L'Arachel to start chasing me across the desert waving a staff."

"I though all the staves were used up?" Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"That doesn't stop them from swinging." Ewan smiled at her, then hopped down off the cart. "Good luck." He hurried off, out of sight of the cart.

"That wasn't very nice, Ross," Amelia scolded quietly. "You hurt his feelings."

"No I didn't. He always talks like that."

"Ross!"

Ross sighed. "Fine. I'll apologize later." He closed his eyes purposefully, intent on actually getting some sleep.

Amelia echoed his sigh, staring out the back of the convoy. The land behind them still looked like desert, but the temperature was dropping. If they really did travel through the night, she surmised, they might be near the Jehanna border by morning. Assuming nothing stopped them.

Amelia hadn't been with Eirika's army from its beginning, but she felt she had been there long enough to realize that if the ideal situation involved nothing happening, then something was bound to.

The sun was touching the horizon by the time Gerik finally pried himself away from Tethys. He wanted to talk to Marisa. He wasn't sure what he was going to talk about, exactly, but his conversations with her were always very interesting.

He found her walking near the front of their small caravan parade, looking straight ahead and constantly on guard. He was careful to approach her only after he was well in view. He didn't want a steel sword resting where his arm or head had once been.

"Hello, Marisa," he said conversationally, turning to walk backwards in front of her. "Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"Yes, Chief." Marisa's eyes settled on him for the barest of seconds before returning to scanning the area around them. Gerik found that very unsettling.

"How many chances do you get to watch the sunset while you travel?" he asked the open air. They were finally out of the desert, but the outskirts of Jehanna, where it came very close to Renais and Carcino, were wilder and offered better ambush spots. Seth, Kyle, Forde and Vanessa made up the front of their parade, and Gerik almost felt sorry for them, as well as for Gilliam and Innes, guarding the rear; they would need to be steadily on edge, ready to signal or defend at a moment's notice.

"Chief," Marisa said formally.

"Yeah?"

"You are in my line of vision."

"That's where people are, generally, when they have conversations." Gerik grinned, trying to lighten the mood. He was well aware that Marisa probably wasn't in a very good mood.

Instead of another sharp response, however, Marisa's face softened, becoming almost sad. "This is about…being more sociable?" She met his eyes and held them. "Am I doing it wrong?"

That had been unexpected. Gerik found himself without words for a very long while, and he turned back to watching the sunset, walking beside Marisa on the side where it was easiest to avoid her sword. Gerik liked to delude himself that such a side existed.

"Chief?"

"What? Oh…well, it wasn't…perfect, but it wasn't completely bad, either. I mean…you're getting better at it." He tried to offer a reassuring smile, but Marisa was back to her scanning. "It usually helps to make casual conversation."

"Conversation." She looked at him again, incredulous.

"Yeah. You know, talking about things like…the weather, or the most recent battle, or listening to your companions' stories about life."

"Listening is not conversation. Chief."

"Oh…it can be. You do a lot of listening, don't you?"

"I listen for enemies." Marisa's words were hard again. "You shouldn't let your guard down, Chief."

"We're not going to be attacked here, Marisa. The sun's almost down and everything's getting quiet around us." He smiled, feeling very optimistic. "Besides, I'm sure we could handle anything that came our way."

"This army has no leader." She met Gerik's eyes again and held them solemnly.

"Of course it does. I mean, Eirika may be gone, but we have Prince Ephraim."

"He is incapacitated."

"He's still taking over as our leader, Marisa. And Seth is the famous Silver Knight…and Prince Innes is a brilliant tactician. We're hardly leaderless."

"The leader they know is gone." Gerik couldn't argue with that one. No matter how many good decisions either of the princes or the general made, Eirika was who they were used to, and their performance would suffer until they knew she was all right.

"Those are some really…sharp observations. But then, you have a lot of practice observing." Gerik shook his head, noticing how dark it was getting. "I hope the prince has plans to stop for the night. There's no sense in tiring us all out, just in case we are attacked on the road."

Gerik glanced back over his shoulder, towards the supply convoy. Franz and Tana were riding behind it, talking quietly. Gerik could guess from the looks on their faces that Ephraim was both awake and adamant that they continue.

He was right. Ephraim was very awake and very grumpy.

The prince of Renais crossed his arms stubbornly, refusing to yield to the soft but serious demands of Tana and Franz. They wanted to stop at the nearest town, find shelter and food and rest. Ephraim wanted to reach Renais now, despite that being impossible.

"They have a point, Prince Ephraim," said Cormag, who was looking longingly at where Genarog was walking behind the cart. "We all need a break, if we can get one. Think of Artur and Ewan, or Knoll and Natasha. They've been walking nonstop."

"We didn't leave until late afternoon," Ephraim protested.

"It was early afternoon, and we've been crossing hot, hostile desert," Tana returned, and Achaeus snorted his agreement. Her arms were folded in a manner almost identical to Ephraim's, and she was equally as stubborn. "We're going to stop as soon as we come to a town, and that's final."

"Good. Maybe someone can hunt down a staff there," Colm mumbled, stretching. "I'm tired of riding. And of Neimi worrying, though I doubt she'll stop anytime soon."

"Tana?" Franz asked hesitantly. She turned to look at him, and he flinched at the intensity of her gaze. "What if…what if we don't find a town tonight?"

"We will," she insisted.

"But we may not."

"Whose side are you on, Franz?" Colm complained. "If I had my knife I'd throw it at you."

"You'd miss," teased Cormag with a smirk.

"Want me to aim at you instead?"

"I like you both better sleeping," Ephraim muttered, and the three of them laughed quietly, careful not to wake up Ross or Amelia. Tana and Franz looked at each other and shrugged.

"Fine, Tana," Ephraim said reluctantly. "If we can find a place to stay the night, then we'll stop."

"When you're not feuding with my brother, you really can be reasonable, Ephraim." She sounded very pleased with herself, and was still smiling when she and Franz rode away to spread the news to the rest of the army.

Duessel rode up to the cart barely seconds after they had gone. "Never thought I'd see you in trouble with any woman who wasn't your sister." He was grinning.

"Oh, go away," Ephraim groaned. "You wouldn't mock me if I had my lance."

"And you could stand," added Cormag quietly. Ephraim glared at him. "Eirika makes the same face, Prince. I'm used to it."

"What did the Princess of Frelia want with you?" Duessel asked.

"She convinced me to let us stop, if we ever find a place."

"Doubtless there will be many villages, perhaps a town or two. Though with the direct route you decided on…" Duessel looked to his left, staring off into the distance. "We're not likely to pass places where the people might know or remember Eirika and her army. We may be turned out."

"There's the chance," Ephraim agreed, not looking at all worried that such a thing might happen. He might even have been hoping for it. "I'd like to see any villager try standing up to Tana when she's in this mood, though."

They shared a laugh; Duessel stopped first, peering into the deepening darkness. "We're also at risk of an ambush on the road."

"General Duessel!" said Kyle stiffly as he rode closer.

"Ah, Sir Kyle!" Duessel said brightly, and Ephraim winced. Hadn't he warned the old general about that? "Is there news?"

"Of course, sir." Kyle was as casually formal as he had ever been, and Ephraim even suspected he was enjoying himself. Or at least enjoying his title. "Neimi's spotted a village about a mile or so away. We should be arriving shortly."

"Give her a thank you from me," Colm sighed happily. "Anything for a bed tonight."

"You have a bed in here," Cormag argued, smirking.

"I meant a bed with the soft parts still attached."

"In that case, I'll find you a nice patch of grass." Cormag's smirk spread into a full grin. "You can pitch a tent for yourself."

"You're not making any sense," Colm protested, rolling over with a snort. Cormag chuckled quietly.

"You're both very entertaining," Kyle remarked dryly, before turning to Duessel again. "Any other questions for me, General?"

"No, I don't think so. Carry on." Kyle made a gesture that Ephraim could only interpret as a salute of some kind, and turned to ride back up to the front of the line. Duessel looked back at Ephraim and winked.

"Don't start," he muttered wearily. "I don't have the time to undo a chivalrous Kyle." Duessel laughed again, quieter this time.

"Don't worry, Prince Ephraim. It won't get to his head too much." Ephraim gave Duessel an exasperated sigh. The great knight was still laughing as he rode away.

"What are you talking about?" Tana asked sharply.

"Exactly what you heard," replied the villager, crossing his arms and giving her a stern glare. "We'll allow no one into town after nightfall."

"You've got to be kidding!" Franz protested.

"He looks serious to me," Forde mumbled to his brother.

"You would deny entry to the Prince and Princess of Frelia?" Innes asked in his steely voice.

"This is Jehanna, not Frelia."

"So you turn away the last of the Jehanna royal line," Innes continued, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't think he'll be pleased."

"Queen Ismaire is dead and her palace burned," the man said stubbornly. "There were no survivors."

"And you're also—"

"Excuse me!" L'Arachel, off her horse but no less imposing, pushed her way to the front and struck the end of her powerless but still quite dangerous staff against the ground. "Have you any idea with whom you now speak?"

"An upstart healer waving her staff around like a maniac?" the man replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Actually—" Rennac began, but a warning look from L'Arachel stopped him.

"I am Princess L'Arachel, the niece of Pontifex Mansel, the ruler of the theocracy of Rausten."

"You're keeping her out, too," Innes went on, slightly smiling. By now, he was counting them off on his fingers.

"You shall not refuse us entry!"

"You have no proof you're who you say you are," countered the villager, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed."

"Stop! I demand you open your gates to us!"

"If you let her keep going, Innes," said Rennac, looking a bit pale, "she's going to start thinking things like 'vanquish.'"

"That will be bad?" Innes asked quietly.

"Very."

"And just so you know," Innes called loudly, trying to stop L'Arachel from further noble protest, "our convoy is carrying the Crown Prince of Renais. Here, so close to the border of Jehanna and Renais, you would refuse us?"

The man spat on the ground. "Fools. Everyone knows the Prince of Renais died in Grado, fighting Emperor Vigarde's battalion. I don't want to know who you're really working for, but you'd best be far from this place by the time I come back out." With that, he turned and walked into a nearby cottage.

"How can they do this?" Tana asked, a desperate edge creeping into her voice.

"We can't fight them about it, Tana," Innes said as gently as possible. "We've already wasted precious time here. Let's go."

"But…but Innes!"

"It's not worth it."

Sighing, Tana mounted Achaeus again, letting him take off and fly a bit. It was dark enough to make her stay close to the earthbound caravan, but she kept far enough to the front that she wouldn't have to deal with her older brother.

L'Arachel had grumpily gotten back on her horse, and Dozla was marching along beside her, offering consolation mixed in with adoring praise. Rennac lagged behind, thankful the troubadour had someone else she could complain to.

Seth was concentrating as hard as he could on the road ahead. Aside from being at the true front of the group and needing to make sure the road was clear and safe, he thought it might make a good distraction from his other thoughts.

He was wrong. It just made him think of her more.

It was simply not possible for a knight to have such feelings for the lady he protected, he reminded himself. It was entirely not part of knightly behavior, and besides, she was a princess, she was royalty. She was above him.

That didn't do much to stop his thoughts, either.

Seth shifted his lance to his other hand, satisfied that for now there were no imminent dangers on the road. He would have kept staring out at the landscape if someone hadn't spoken.

"You seem lost in thought." Seth was startled. He hadn't even noticed Saleh walking beside him.

"I am," he replied, looking down at the top of the sage's head. "There's a lot to think about."

"Indeed there is." That would have been the extent of their conversation on any other night. Saleh considered ending it, but felt that the present situation warranted discussion. "We are not taking the route now that we took to reach Jehanna."

"I know. We won't come anywhere near Caer Pelyn, this time."

"In a way, that's for the best," Saleh replied, though Seth thought he heard longing in the sage's voice. "I wouldn't want us to bring more danger to my home than we already have."

"You suspect we're being followed?" Seth raised an eyebrow.

"Watched, perhaps. Observed."

"What makes you think this?" Seth slowed his horse and lowered his voice. "Have you seen something?"

"Nothing I can think of with certainty. I will tell you if I do see something." Seth nodded, once again thinking the conversation ended. "What will we do upon reaching Renais?"

Seth was taken entirely by surprise. He hadn't known Saleh to be so forward with his questions. Then again, he considered, to anyone but himself, this probably didn't seem forward.

"I shall assume Valter has taken the Princess to Renais Castle. If that proves to be true…we may have to attack."

"I've never been to the capital of Renais," Saleh said conversationally. "Is the castle well-defended?"

"It will be difficult for us to breach. Still…I find myself sharing the command of a varied and talented army. One of us will find a way."

"You're worried about her." Saleh's voice was whisper-soft. Seth wondered how many times it was possible to be struck speechless in one night.

"Of course I am," he answered in the same tone. "We all are."

"But you are worried, Seth. General." Seth frowned. He wasn't looking at Saleh anymore, but he could hear the half-smile in the sage's voice. "More worried than you care to let on to the rest of your valiant army."

"Are you going to make a point with this?"

"Actually, I am." Saleh paused for a long moment, walking in silence.

"When do you think I'll get to hear it?"

Saleh sighed. Turning his point into words was harder than he'd thought. "Do you wonder if she knows you're so worried?"

"She's not here, Saleh."

"But you know what I'm talking about. General." As much as he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, Seth did know what Saleh was talking about. But he couldn't think of that now. He was but a knight, after all, and there were rules.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the rules probably weren't written down and official anywhere. But they were still rules, if only because everyone else had to follow them, too.

Saleh fell back a bit then, aware that Seth was back in his thoughts again and not prone to more conversation. Instead, the sage slowed until he walked beside one of the newest members of the group.

"Good evening, Great Dragon." Anyone watching would have found his change to pleasant formality a bit unnerving. Myrrh certainly did.

"Please. I told you, there's no need for you to call me that."

"And as I said, you are indeed the Great Dragon. There is little else I can call you."

Myrrh looked up at him, folding her wings back a bit so they didn't accidentally knock him over. "You could call me Myrrh."

"I wouldn't do you such a disrespect."

"But it wouldn't be one, Saleh. I'd like it. I wish you wouldn't be so formal." For all she looked to be somewhere around the age of twelve, Myrrh spoke at the level of her true age. The eyes she fixed him with were solemn, bordering on sad.

Saleh looked back at her, noting the emotion in her eyes and the tone of her voice. "…To call you just Myrrh would be far too familiar."

"It's my name, Saleh." She searched her mind for another solution. "You could…call me by a title, the way I've heard Prince Ephraim called. And I mean a title that isn't 'Great Dragon.'"

He could tell she really wanted this. He knew that Ephraim already called her just Myrrh, but that was unthinkable for someone from Caer Pelyn. "I will consider it," he decided, offering her a smile. She smiled back, looking relieved.

Cormag had been watching carefully, waiting for everyone else riding to fall asleep—and Ephraim had taken his sweet time—before whistling quietly to Genarog. The wyvern came closer, and with only a few sharp breaths Cormag climbed onto his back.

"Let's fly," he whispered, and the wyvern took off. Cormag smiled, relishing the free feeling of flying. Anyone watching would think Genarog was just stretching his wings.

Eirika rolled over in her sleep and was jolted awake by a stab of pain in her side. She thought she cried out, but most of her was still asleep. Still, she rolled back onto her back and waited until she was most of the way awake before opening her eyes.

She wasn't sure how she had even fallen asleep. It was more mentally taxing to be held prisoner when it was happening in your own home, she decided. At least a dungeon of some kind would have made it seem less real.

She sat up, fighting against blacking out. When her vision cleared, she noted Riev standing in the doorway, leaning on his staff and smirking at her.

"You're quite a surprise, Princess," he said dryly. "Very few in Renais have your willpower. Your brother certainly didn't. I'd venture that he's dead by now."

Outwardly, Eirika let herself look furious. Inside, she was triumphant. Riev had said before that Ephraim was coming. Whether he didn't remember or he didn't expect her to didn't matter. She knew Ephraim was still alive.

She also knew that they hadn't taken her bracelet, and was immensely relieved. As long as they didn't try to, she still had a chance.

"Valter should be coming by soon, Princess." Riev's use of her title was mocking, not in any way respectful. "I assure you, he's been dying to talk to you." With a harsh laugh, Riev turned and stalked out.

Eirika took a deep breath, flinched, and decided not to try that again. Still, yesterday—had it been only yesterday?—she had nearly stood, and while she felt worse today, she knew she didn't have much time.

Riev hadn't said what Valter planned to do once he got there. That was enough to assure Eirika she didn't want to find out, either. She scanned the walls and shelves of her brother's room for something she might use to help her stand.

Any of the lances that might have once been kept in the room were gone. She thought of pulling a post from the bed, as they were removable, but it would be too cumbersome and heavy.

After some effort and a few moments where she thought she really would collapse on the floor, Eirika managed to get to her feet, holding tight to one of the bedposts. Slowly she inched forward, shaking from the effort.

She was nearly to the door, to making her way out of the castle, when a sudden noise down the long hall made her stop short with a gasp. In the next second she hit her knees, biting back a scream. It felt like someone had impaled her. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let the pain take over.

"Eirika!" The voice was faint, and coming from far away. "He's coming! He mustn't know!" The voice faded as it spoke. By the time she could look up again, nothing was there at all.

She was still there on the floor, summoning the courage to get up again, when Valter rounded the corner and found her there. The light from the half moon fell across the floor, beginning just before the spot where Eirika knelt and ending inches short of Valter's feet.

"Trying to escape, Princess?" His voice was full of a hatred that rested just under the surface. "We can't have that. Look at me." Against her will, Eirika raised her eyes to meet his.

He was smiling, if it could even be called a smile; it looked more like a grimace. A red scar ran the length of his face, crossing over his ruined, uncovered eye. The absence of one eye made his face that much more vile. He seemed to enjoy the look of disgust she gave him.

"Poor little Princess Eirika. You never wanted to fight in this war. All you wanted was peace for your people." He made the word 'peace' sound like 'vermin.' He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"Believe me, Princess, I never wanted to have to kill your brother. Do you know that your actions have moved your entire retinue to come running back to Renais to save you?" He laughed, a wicked, dark sound. "When all of this is over and I have the Sacred Stone, you will know nothing but peace, I assure you. You will be mine alone."

She glared at him. "I wouldn't lower myself." He turned his twisted smile on her and laughed again.

"You will not have a choice. Everyone else you love will die." With one last cackling laugh, he took a step forward and kicked her.

Eirika felt herself roll across the floor; only the wall stopped her. She felt nothing for several very long minutes, and then felt the explosion of pain in her side. Short of breath, she pushed herself back up to her hands and knees.

"Your ribs are broken. Pity." He sneered. "I could be merciful and force Riev to heal you. He doesn't want to do it; he likes watching you suffer."

"So much slime in Renais is insulting," Eirika replied, ignoring the part of her that warned she might be kicked again. It didn't matter; he wouldn't kill her. In his mind, he needed her for her bracelet.

"In that case…I like watching it, too. But no more of these escapes," he added. Eirika was looking at the floor, fighting a descent into unconsciousness. She heard the door close and the lock turn.

She was locked in, but that didn't matter much either. She couldn't even get up.

Ephraim is coming, she reminded herself. Or, at least…your army is. Saleh, Forde, Kyle…Colm and Neimi…Tana and Innes. And Seth. Even if…even if Ephraim isn't with them…they're coming.

A burst of resolve let her clench her hands into fists, and she forced herself to her knees. She could still see the moon out the window. The night had barely begun. She was locked in, but this was Ephraim's room. There would have been more than one way out.

And when they get here, I'm going to be there to meet them.

Riev rubbed his hands together in a decidedly evil way. Once he noticed himself doing it, he stopped. The wyvern rider had set him down only moments ago, and it was two hours to sunrise. Soon, they would be coming. He would just have to wait.

Eirika's army would never make it to Renais. Not while he stood in its way.

The sun was rising. Forde could see it, just the tip of it, cresting the horizon. He had an inexplicable impulse to paint it. He shoved it away as the effects of riding all night and tried to wake himself up a bit more. He had a very uneasy feeling, too, one that he hoped was also due to lack of sleep.

"I refuse to believe we were turned away from four consecutive villages!" L'Arachel's voice floated toward him from several yards back. "Do they not realize who we are?"

"Right now we look like a bunch of crazed, ragged travelers trying to pass for royalty," answered Joshua. "I'm not surprised no one believes us. Especially if they think Ephraim was killed."

Rennac was watching the conversation with some interest. Joshua seemed to be one of the few who could stand to converse with a crazy green-haired troubadour. Or perhaps he was faking it.

"How do they dare refuse the Princess of Rausten?" she cried, looking almost overly aggravated. Rennac rolled his eyes.

"Maybe they'll be more likely to let us in with the dawn," Dozla offered in an attempt to console her. "It must have been hard for them to refuse you, lass, but safety must come first."

They talked about this a bit more. Rennac lost interest very quickly, and just as quickly he was walking with Neimi and Gilliam, instead. The knight looked as though he could walk forever, whether he got sleep or not. Neimi seemed to be asleep on her feet, but going forward anyway. Both of them were likely to be very quiet, which was exactly what Rennac wanted.

Ephraim opened his eyes, took one look at the ceiling of the convoy and sat straight up. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep. It seemed impossible, but what seemed even more unlikely was that they had stopped somewhere overnight and were now continuing, and he hadn't ever woken.

"Tana?" he called. The Pegasus knight was riding right behind them, dozing lightly in the saddle. She looked up at the sound of her name and gave Ephraim a sleepy smile.

"Good morning." She looked around, waking up the rest of the way. "Sun's coming up. It looks like it will be cloudy today."

"Tana, where are we?"

"Just over the Renais border, I think. We were close when I fell asleep, we should be over it by now."

"The Renais border."

"I don't think we could have gone much farther."

"That's not what I meant. How did we find a village, stay overnight, get up before sunrise and make it all the way to the border of Renais and Jehanna? How did I sleep through it?"

"You didn't."

"Well I certainly wasn't awake through it."

"We never stopped. Most of us have been awake all night, Ephraim. We tried three villages and a town, and none of them would take us. At the last one we even tried to send Natasha and Artur in to buy staves, but they wouldn't have it."

Ephraim tried his best to follow it all. A few of the details stuck faster than others. "Three villages and a town?"

"Yes. We were looking for another when I started to fall asleep. Everyone's so tired. I hope we can find a place soon, and I don't care what you say Ephraim, we're stopping and resting until every last one of us is ready to go again!"

Ephraim, however, still hadn't left the first idea. "Not one of them?"

"Are you even listening to me?" The look on Tana's face let Ephraim catch himself up again very quickly. His next thought had a lot to do with what a sleep-deprived army was and was not capable of. The part of him that wanted to get to Renais without losing any time was still adamant, but the more rational part of him had begun to take over, and he didn't like his more rational thoughts. But it was his rational self that spoke next.

"This would be the perfect time…"

"…for some kind of attack." Kyle looked at Forde incredulously. "I'm just saying."

"Do you want us to be attacked? We'd likely not survive, Forde." Kyle frowned as several pieces of hair fell into his eyes. Almost angrily, he brushed them away before turning to check that his lance was ready.

"Of course we would."

"With no staves? Useless healers just become better targets."

"I'd be careful of who might be listening if I were you, throwing the word 'useless' around like that," Forde shot back, giving the green-armored cavalier an angry stare. Kyle's return gaze was impassive.

"You should focus more on what may happen, Forde."

"What may happen?"

"You said it yourself. This is an opportune time to be attacked, and much as I hate to agree with you, enemies seem to keep taking advantage of opportune times."

"We wouldn't be in this situation if we had tried harder to get into one of those villages," Forde huffed. He had really been looking forward to sleeping, and perhaps a hot meal. He'd have been willing to take just one night's uninterrupted sleep, though.

"You would have us leave Eirika at Valter's mercy?" Kyle was astonished.

"That is not what I meant!"

"It was implied. Assuming you know how to imply."

"You just implied I'm an imbecile!" Forde growled hotly. He was tired of riding, tired of being on guard, tired of being tired, and tired of Kyle.

"Your words," said the other cavalier in a similar tone. "I couldn't have chosen them better myself."

"How could you think I'd want anything to happen to her!"

"How could you think we would stop traveling just so you could indulge yourself in some completely unchivalrous behavior!"

"That's not even a word! You're insulting me with nonsense now?" Forde's voice had become dangerously loud. He wasn't quite yelling, but he was close.

"Well what do you expect? It's all I hear from you."

"I'm not going to put up with this." Forde turned his horse away, riding toward the back of the group. He would let Kyle keep himself company for a while. See how he liked it, riding alone. He'd probably want to ride away from himself, too.

All thought of Kyle was lost in the next second; something moved in the forest to his left. Staring at it, he drew his sword. Whatever it was moved again, and he rode a bit closer.

There was a bright flash, and he was on the ground, his spooked horse running off in the other direction. "What in the—" he grumbled, climbing to his feet. Another flash knocked him down again.

"Forde, what are you doing?" He didn't know whose voice it was, and at the moment he didn't care. From his new angle, he could see what was moving in the forest.

"Mogalls!" Vanessa had spotted them, too, and she and Titania arced into a dive. Raising her lance, she ran one of them through as she passed, feeling pleased with herself when it disappeared, freeing her lance again. Lute had explained—several times—why exactly it was that most monsters just sort of disintegrated upon being killed. It had given Vanessa a headache.

She went to work dealing with as many Mogalls as she could reach, shrugging off their return attacks as though they were nothing. Even ducking between the trees, Titania could outmaneuver the floating eyes, and Vanessa hit a lot more than hit her.

They began to figure this out at about the time the next wave of enemies arrived. Two of the Mogalls headed out of the forest, moving to flank a Maelduin who was galloping toward Lute and Artur.

Artur took several more steps back when he noticed the two newest arrivals. He looked down at the pages of his light tome, reading the spell in his mind. When the magic gathered, a wave of his hand was all it took to blast one of the Mogalls away. The other retaliated with a dark attack that threw Lute back several feet.

"Lute!" Artur cried, barely ducking a swing from the Maelduin's giant axe. "Help me!" She staggered to her feet, glanced down at the red book she was holding, and smiled broadly at Artur.

"He's swinging!" Artur ducked again, losing his balance and landing on his back on the ground. "That looks dangerous."

"Attack him, Lute!" Artur called, almost pleading. He had dropped his book, and it was just beyond his left hand's reach. The Maelduin was swinging again.

"With what?" she asked, but some instinct made her open the book in her hands. A burst of fire struck the centaur-like creature, driving it back and causing it to embed the axe in the ground just inches from Artur's head.

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his book and throwing another light spell at the other Mogall. It disappeared, and Artur went back to ducking and dodging the Maelduin. He imagined he'd be lucky to escape with his head.

Three arrows, one right after the other, thudded into the giant centaur's chest, and it dropped the axe. With a yell, Franz charged past him, swinging his sword. The monster's head fell to the ground, and it stood there for a moment before starting to fade.

Artur got to his feet and retrieved his book, brushing himself off as Franz rode back over. "Thanks, Franz," he said, very relieved. "Better its head than mine."

"Well, if you ever lose your head, Artur," Franz replied with an innocent smile, "it'll be while it's still attached to your shoulders." Artur shook his head, and Franz rode away. Almost angrily, Artur turned to look at Lute, who was staring at her spellbook with great interest.

"Fire came from this!" she said excitedly. Artur resisted rolling his eyes. Some day when he didn't think she might kick him, too, he would have a word with Tethys about this. The old Lute had been irritating, but this Lute was downright strange.

"Of course fire came from it, Lute. You're a mage." She looked at the book again, and then met his eyes. He recognized the urgent look in them.

"Princess Eirika! Where is she?" Lute asked, her voice strained.

"Valter has her," Artur answered quietly.

"No! He can't! He'll kill her!"

"He needs her alive, fortunately. She'll stay that way until we get there for her." Artur shook his head. "He needs her to get to the Sacred Stone."

"That's the problem, Artur! She—" Lute stopped, staring at a spot somewhere behind Artur's left shoulder.

"She what, Lute? How often is this going to happen?" He turned to look behind him, just to make sure Lute hadn't stopped because she was watching something else. He was quite relieved to find nothing close by, but the rest of the army was fighting for their lives.

Kyle found himself in the thick of it, balancing avoiding axe and lance strikes and magic and trying not to accidentally impale himself, his horse, or Duessel, who was approximately behind him. He felt something hard and metallic crash against his armor, and without turning around, spun his lance and thrust it backward. He was satisfied with the shriek of a dying monster that followed.

"Not bad," Duessel called to him, splitting a Mogall in two with his silver axe. He also had, loaded into the convoy, a silver lance. Kyle had seen it and even now longed to try using it. Another Maelduin, and this one with a bow, distracted him from further thoughts of artistic weaponry.

He felt two arrows skitter off his armor, and he rode forward, hoping to get so close to the Maelduin that he would no longer be in range. He raised his lance as he charged, narrowing his focus to the monster alone. The creature fired another arrow; seconds later, Kyle ran it through. He saw a thunder spell—Saleh or Ewan, he guessed—finish it off, but his attention was directed now at the arrow protruding from his leg.

He cursed under his breath, glaring around at the nearly overwhelming horde of monsters. There didn't seem to be any end in sight, and the sun was only halfway up. It felt like he'd been fighting for hours, already, but it hadn't even been one.

Lack of sleep was doing this, he realized. It was affecting everybody.

"Kyle?" It was Seth's voice. He rode closer, frowning at the arrow. "You—"

"I'm fine." He waved Seth away, the back of his mind wondering when he'd started cutting off the Silver Knight in the middle of his sentences.

"Very well," Seth said stiffly, riding away again. Kyle sighed, raised his lance, and picked out another target.

"Just go slow," he told himself. "As long as you last longer, you have to win."

Forde glanced at the sun. An hour. For an hour, he'd been horseless, dealing with anything that might come his way on foot. He didn't even know where the horse was, but he was becoming quite the foot soldier. He thought fleetingly of laughing at his own bad joke.

Joshua and Gerik were nearby, and Garcia and Gilliam were carving through an entire battalion of creatures by themselves only a few yards away. It was actually starting to look like the army was going to win.

Forde swiped at another Mogall, not waiting to see it vanish before turning to look for any other enemies. He was surprised and pleased to find no more.

Something crashed into his back, and Forde spun, barely blocking the next swing of a giant axe with his sword. He hadn't liked Maelduins from this lower angle before, and he still didn't. He winced as he felt one of the ties holding his armor on snap from the blow and the constant strain.

He deflected another three or four swings, stepping in under the last to slash at the Maelduin, leaving a decent-sized gash across its front. A hard kick in the chest from one of its feet sent Forde sprawling, and another of his armor ties broke. Groaning, he rolled over to get to his feet.

He froze, on his hands and knees. His attempt to cry out turned into a sound somewhere between a cough and a gasp, and some part of him realized that he was still holding onto his sword.

He fell back to the ground as the Maelduin pulled its axe from his back; his armor had come loose and fallen partially away, giving the monster an opening. The world that Forde could still see was greying—he found that interesting, almost funny—and he could tell that the Maelduin was readying to swing again. Sighing, Forde shut his eyes.

"Get him!" Forde opened his eyes again, struggling to look toward the voice. …Cormag?
The wyvern rider had flown most of the night, and while he was as tired as the rest of them, he was flying. He carried no lance, but he and Genarog agreed that, really, the wyvern himself was weapon enough. He swooped down toward the Maelduin, making several quick passes, doing more damage each time. Within half a minute, the monster was gone.

"Forde!" Cormag jumped down from Genarog's back and ran, hardly slowing as he reached Forde and knelt beside him. "Forde? Answer me!"

"Hey, Cormag," the cavalier offered weakly, smiling. "What were you—"

"I've been flying all night long; I saw what happened. Besides, I owe you." He looked at the wound on Forde's back once and decided he didn't want to look at it again. "You can't get up."

"That a question?" Forde's eyes slipped closed again, and he relaxed his grip on his sword. He didn't need it now, anyway. All the monsters around them were gone.

Cormag looked around once, his eyes settling on Genarog. "Go find Tana or Artur!" he called; two names his wyvern would certainly know. Genarog nodded—a very human gesture—and took off.

"Kyle is going to kill me," Forde mumbled, remembering foggily that Kyle was already in the mood to impale him. "Seth, too."

"Forde…" Cormag began, but he wasn't really sure what he'd been trying to say.

Forde hardly heard him, anyway. He was fighting to stay awake, or at least mostly aware, but it wasn't working. The darkness was rising to meet him, and he was helpless against it.

So. How was it? Bit of a cliffhanger for all of you. I hope you enjoyed it!