Chapter 16
Time - Evening, 12 days after the Harvest Festival
Place - Outside the Gates of Ylisstol
"Gentlemen. And ladies. Well, mostly ladies. Almost exclusively ladies. Yes, dad, I see you, you don't have to jump up and down like that. Actually, it's a good idea, keep doing it. Where was I? Right. Ladies. It has been a long, grueling march. For weeks we wandered the barren deserts of Plegia-"
"It was three days."
"Thank you, Anna. That was absolutely worth derailing my dramatic pre-battle speech for. Thank you, we're all much better people now that we've gotten our facts straight. For days we wandered the barren deserts of Plegia, forced to rely on our strength and our wits to make it through alive-"
"We had enough food to eat like kings every night!"
"Oh my Gods. Fine. Forced to rely on our strength and our hearty and plentiful provisions, we have made it through our trials and finally arrived here, at our destination. Ylisstol. A city besieged by a madman. Mort is somewhere in there. The battle will be fraught with danger. Many of you will probably die. But that is a sacrifice we are all willing to...no, come back, I was kidding! Nobody is gonna die! Hahaha...ha…!"
"I thought it was a nice speech, son," Kellam said, walking up beside him.
"Thanks, dad," Inigo replied with a sigh. His father was the only one that looked like a soldier ready to head into battle. His armour had been patched up; there was still a noticeable mark by the chest, where Mort had thrust his magical blade, but Anna had assured them that it was as comically huge and effective as ever.
As for the Anna's, well...they were hardly a cohesive unit, which was odd, given their literally being the same person. They had agreed to follow Inigo's lead - though mostly by just agreeing to head in the same direction - but various Anna's were constantly slipping off to nearby towns, setting up games to play, and gossipping long into the night. Inigo felt less like a general going to war and more like the chaperone of a girl's slumber party.
"Morgan is in there," he said, looking towards the city once again. "I don't care what threats await. I'm getting her back."
"That's the spirit, kiddo," came the voice of an Anna walking up beside him. Inigo was able to recognize her - somehow - as Anna Prime. She was peeling a banana. "Don't look so grim. We've got this. Some of the myselves and I have cooked up a plan. Behold...the Trojan Anna!"
She indicated towards a large cart, absolutely filled to the brim with treasures and goods. A half dozen Anna's were hanging onto the edges, wearing the most sultry and revealing outfits they had on hand.
"We send them in looking to trade with whoever is in charge," Anna Prime explained. "Then when the coast is clear, they sneak out, kill a bunch of guards, and make sure the gates are open for the rest of us. It's foolproof!"
"That's...brilliant, actually," Inigo said, thankful to be presented with a plan more detailed than 'charge.' "But, uh, what does Trojan mean?"
"Don't worry about it. Let's hide in the forest and wait while...aw, shit."
Inigo, Kellam, and several Anna's near the front of the crowd turned to face the city. A signal fire had been lit, and figures were approaching the gates.
"Well, it was a nice plan. Shall we head back to Annapolis?" one of the Anna's asked, to general murmurs of agreement.
"No! We can't just give up!" Inigo cried.
"Uhm, Inigo?" Kellam said.
"My girlfriend is in there!" Inigo went on. "I mean, we haven't officially used that term yet, but I'm pretty sure it's applicable here! I love that woman and I will do anything to save her! No matter how crazy!"
"Inigo?" Kellam said again.
"I don't care if I have to charge into a hostile city by myself! I don't care if I have to duel Mort one on one atop the battlements while fire rages around us! In fact that's kind of how I imagined this would end up going, and am looking forward to saying, "you're fired!" before kicking him into the blaze!"
"Inigo?" Kellam said again.
"So I'm going to charge towards that city, kill every last bastard that tries to get in my way, and if you value your commitment to a fellow Anna, you'll be there alongside me!"
He drew his sword, turned, and yelled, "CHAAAAARRRRGEROME?"
"What are you screaming about?" asked the smirking figure in front of him.
* * *
The Battle for Ylisstol that Inigo had been envisioning ended up having far fewer casualties than he would have guessed. In fact, if you didn't count the one Anna who tripped and scraped her knee, it had exactly zero.
Gerome looked to Inigo, rolled his eyes, and said, "took you long enough. Were you busy getting rejected by every woman on the continent?"
Inigo grinned, and hugged Gerome. "Gods, did I miss you, you big grumpy arse."
"You know," Anna Prime said, the only Anna walking up front with the rest of them, "Anna's typically kiss old friends on each cheek when reuniting after a long absence."
"Say no more," Inigo responded, puckering up, when Gerome pushed him away to arm's length.
"I would just really rather you didn't," Gerome said.
"I'm still working on getting him used to displays of affection," Lucina explained, smiling at Inigo. "We'll turn him into a regular smooch master yet."
"I can hear you-"
"So, wait, did you guys finally hook up?" Inigo asked, bubbling with excitement. When Lucina gave a coy nod, he actually squeaked. "Wow! Finally! And you know what? Morgan and I did, too! Well, not 'hook up,' we only kissed, but-"
"What the hell does 'hook up' even mean?" Gerome asked, but the tide of excitement was riding past without him.
"Gods, poor Morgan," Severa said, but she was smiling as widely as the others. "What did she do wrong to end up with someone like you?"
"Severa, lovely Severa," Inigo replied, "jealousy does not suit you. Know that, while I admire your strength and beauty-"
"I deserve this. Forget I said anything," Severa sighed.
"I, for one, am most overjoyed to have you back with us!" Owain said, slapping Inigo on the back. "One more ally in our vast League of Justice to help thwart the forces of evil once and for all!"
"Yes! That's what I'm talking about," Inigo replied, clasping Owain's shoulder in return. "Maybe it's because I didn't get the bloody battle I was anticipating here, but I'm pumped up! I'm ready to crack heads!"
The rest of them chattered excitedly, Inigo telling the tale of the Trial of Anna, Owain recounting Lucina's duel with Mort, Severa explaining how the rebellion had succeeded…
Gerome felt his irritation rising. He turned to face the group, and snapped, "are you about done celebrating yet?"
They all quieted down and turned to face him. Lucina gave him a pained look, as if pleading with him not to do what she knew he was about to.
"Yes, yes, so great to have you back, Inigo! Really," Gerome said, plunging ahead regardless. "Have you noticed anything missing? Well, there's Brady, who was stabbed to death for standing up to Mort," he explained. "Oh, and I don't see Morgan with you, because apparently that same deranged psychopath snatched her and is doing who knows what with her!"
"Gerome," Inigo said, his voice darker than usual.
"Am I the only one here who understands the gravity of our situation? Am I the only one taking this seriously?" He glared around at the others, standing before him with mixed reactions of sadness and embarrassment. "Mort is coming back. We don't know when, we don't know how many people he'll have with him, we don't know what he'll do. He has Morgan, and despite them being the same person, it's possible he won't hesitate to kill her-"
"What?" Inigo asked, eyes going wide. "You know about that?"
Gerome's ranting came to a halt. He and Inigo looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.
"I'm sorry, Inigo," Gerome finally said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to take my angst out on you. I should have explained more...delicately." He looked to Lucina, who nodded at him to continue. "When we thought Lucina was killed at the Harvest Festival, she was actually teleported to another timeline with Mort. He is that world's Morgan, but...something went wrong, he went totally insane, murdered his version of Lucina, and-"
Inigo held up a hand to quiet him. "I actually already figured that out," he said. "Mort rambled off a bunch of nonsense about being 'the real Morgan,' and given I had just learned all about Anna and the infinite multiverse-"
"Uh, remember the whole thing about that being a heavily guarded secret?" Anna interjected, but Inigo ignored her.
"So I think we're all on the same page," Inigo went on. "Gerome, I know I can be a goof, and I like to joke around, but you have to believe me. I know what's at stake. I love Morgan, and I'm going to save her."
He held out his hand towards his old friend, and added, "you're gonna help me, right?"
Gerome allowed himself a smile, and clasped Inigo's hand in his own. Lucina reached out and placed hers on top, then Severa and Owain joined in as well.
"Alright, well, if we're good here, me and the me's are gonna find somewhere to grab a drink," Anna announced. "Maybe pick some poor drunk slob and confuse the heck out of 'em. That's always fun."
"Aye, it's late, and we serve only to worry people by wandering around the city in a heavily armed group like this," Lucina said. "The guards are on watch. Mort will not get the drop on us."
There was a general murmur of agreement. Severa and Owain had early morning patrols coming up, so they slinked off to grab a few hours of sleep. Kellam said goodnight as well, causing Gerome to nearly leap out of his skin when he realized the man had even been with them.
"Lucina," Gerome finally said, "head back without me, will you? I'll follow soon, but I need to talk to Inigo some more."
"Okay. Don't have too much fun," Lucina said coyly. She leaned in and exchanged a kiss with Gerome, causing Inigo to once more giggle like a schoolgirl. Then she departed.
"So, what's on your mind, big guy?" Inigo asked as the two of them walked alone through the dark, silent, and empty streets of Ylisstol.
"There's something you need to see. I'm sorry for accusing you of not taking this seriously, but...I still don't think you fully understand everything that's going on."
Gerome led the way towards the castle. They passed through the gate to the courtyard, up to the steps to the landing where Mort had fought them all, and only narrowly been defeated by Brady's final lunge. A few guards were on patrol, but their initial wariness turned into respectful nods when they recognized Gerome was the one passing by.
"Yeah, I'll admit, this whole infinite universe thing is a bit...heavy," Inigo said, as they entered the grand hall of the castle and proceeded towards the narrow side tunnel that led down to the dungeons. "I think I preferred it when we just used it to go to the beach and get some gratuitous ass shots of Noire's mom. Remember that, Gerome? Remember Noire's mom's ass?"
"Quiet!" Gerome hissed.
The last thing he needed was Joab - the Inigo that was somehow much, much worse - hearing this line of conversation.
"Sorry, sorry," Inigo responded, much more quietly. "So who is down here? Is it Mort's henchmen? Some Risen? Anyone who can tell us what Mort's next move is?"
"Kind of," Gerome answered. They reached the final step, but before going any further, Gerome turned to face Inigo. "You need to know exactly who we're dealing with. Inigo, it's us. It's not just Morgan, it's you and me. We came here with Mort. Whatever madness infected him, it infected us."
"I don't understand," Inigo said, softly shaking his head. "Why us? Why not any of the others?"
"I don't know," Gerome answered. "And I've been asking myself the same thing for days, ever since I found out." He took a deep breath, then continued. "I can understand it with myself. I've always been...an angry person. Volatile. I try so hard, every day, to keep it under control, but I can imagine all too well the set of circumstances that would push me over the edge, turn me into nothing more than a mindless killing machine. It's you I can't fathom, Inigo."
Inigo was quiet, looking down at the stone floor beneath their feet.
"Sure, you're annoying, and a bit of a dope," Gerome continued.
"But?" Inigo prompted.
"And an obnoxious flirt, and an incorrigible pain in the ass."
"But?"
"And way too obsessed with what other people think about you, and desperate for attention."
"But?"
"But you're a good person."
"Thank you."
"And the thought of someone as pure, and friendly, and deeply caring as you being twisted into some horrendous villain...it isn't right." Gerome clenched his fists. "I'm sorry, but that's why I need to show you this. We need to understand what we're dealing with if we're going to stop it."
Inigo nodded. "I'm ready, friend. Lead the way."
Gerome led the way, into the small, dimly lit dungeon, and froze in his tracks.
"Uh, Gerome," Inigo said, his voice soft and quaking slightly. "Was all that about you and me being the bad guys some sort of metaphor?"
He and Gerome looked into the empty cell before them.
"No," Gerome said. "It was not a metaphor. Shit, shit, SHIT!"
He raced back the way they had come, Inigo hot on his tail. "Where did they go? Who let them out!?" Gerome was shouting to no one in particular. "Where are the damned guards!"
Inigo struggled to keep up; he was in good shape, but Gerome was being fueled by fear and rage. They reached the top of the steps back up to ground level, and Inigo slammed straight into Gerome's backside, as his friend had come to a sudden halt.
Two guards had been propped up on the landing. Blood seeped down onto their uniforms, originating from their slit throats.
"They weren't there earlier," Inigo said, unhelpfully.
"This is bad," Gerome was muttering. "This is very bad. We have to find them, fast. There's no telling how many people they could kill."
He took a quick, cursory glance around the throne room, but it was still empty. Inigo looked at the strange setup behind the throne; if he didn't know any better, he'd have said it looked a lot like Anna's Gate.
"Fascinating," Mort had said.. "So there are more of these gates than we knew. Ah, well, it doesn't change much...we still need the power of the Ylissean throne for father to cross…"
Inigo shook his head. That was a problem for Tomorrow Inigo to worry about.
Gerome had already turned back towards the main entrance, and was heading outside. Inigo scurried to catch up. Along the way he saw two guards, ones that had looked upon Gerome with such respect and admiration just minutes ago, propped against their posts, heads down, blood dripping down their uniforms and onto the stone floor.
"Gods…" Inigo whispered.
They stepped out into the courtyard.
There, sitting alone under the night sky, was Morgan.
Inigo rushed forward, but Gerome instinctively grabbed his arm.
"Inigo-" he began.
"I know it's a trap!" Inigo snapped. "I don't care. Let me go to her!"
Gerome drew his axe first, then released his grip on Inigo. "Draw your weapon. I've got your back."
Inigo pulled out the rapier given to him by the Anna's. Side by side, he and Gerome slowly made their way down the castle steps into the courtyard below.
"Morgan!" Inigo hissed. Morgan didn't seem to hear him. Her head was down, chin resting on her chest. For a brief moment, Inigo experienced true horror at the thought that her neck had been slit like the guards' had. There didn't seem to be any blood on or around her, though, which filled him with some small measure of hope.
"Mort!" Gerome called, eyes darting all over the courtyard, looking for any nook or cranny that the madman may be lurking in. "We know you're here! Come out and face us!"
There was a snap, as if reality had stopped but was now proceeding along at a normal pace again. Mort stepped forward next to Morgan, as if he had literally materialized out of thin air. A sound like a rapid succession of popping erupted around them, and Gerome and Inigo looked up and around to see Risen, first dozens, then hundreds, materializing as Mort had, all armed. Most had bows, which were quickly drawn, arrows nocked and ready to fly at a moment's notice.
Gerome and Inigo came to a halt, frozen helplessly just feet away from Morgan and her captor.
"I think we can all dispense with the innuendo now," Mort said, tilting his head until his neck loudly cracked. "I know your name isn't Brady, you know mine isn't Mort."
"I'll never call you Morgan, you disgusting imposter!" Inigo yelled. "What did you do to her?"
Mort rolled his eye. "She's fine. Wakey, wakey, honey." He ran a hand through her messy white hair, and slowly Morgan lifted her head, her one remaining eye blinking rapidly. She was very pale, and half her face was swollen and purple beneath her eyepatch. Mort had clearly not bothered to use the utmost care when healing her disfigurement.
"Inigo!" she gasped, finally growing conscious of her surroundings.
"Morgan," Inigo responded. "Morgan, I love you, and I'm going to get you out of this."
"I love you, Inigo, I love you so-" Morgan began, when Mort slapped her hard across the face, knocking her onto her side.
"Enough! Disgusting!" Mort spat. "Does this really seem like the time or the place? You've LOST. Grima has bestowed me with more power than you can imagine. And the power I possess is just one fraction of what he will bring, once he has crossed through the gate and resumed his place as the rightful God of this world."
Gerome kept his hands visible and still, not wanting to make any sudden movements that would cause a Risen to riddle him full of holes. He was so close to Mort...but right now, charging him and cutting him down would do no good. Inigo and Morgan would be instantly killed, and a Risen army on the rampage in the middle of a sleeping Ylisstol would cause untold death and destruction.
Looking around slowly, his eyes scanning the peripherals while his face remained still and straight ahead, Gerome saw both Wulf and Joab standing amidst the Risen. Joab had been given another longbow, and Wulf was carrying a two-handed maul that looked like a slim walking staff in his massive arms.
So, this was it. Gerome, Inigo, and Morgan versus Gerome, Inigo, and Morgan.
Plus a few hundred Risen.
Don't think like them, Gerome schemed to himself. You can't brute force your way out of this. They have us beat there. So what do we have that they don't?
"Why haven't they killed us yet?" Inigo asked, looking around at the Risen. "What are you waiting for, you gross bag of assholes?"
"Haha, wow," Mort chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you kiss the alternate version of myself with that mouth? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. I'll tell you why I haven't had them kill you yet." He bent down to where Morgan was still struggling on the ground after having been hit a moment ago. He grabbed her roughly by the hair and pulled her to her feet.
"Ow!" she yelped, in unison with Inigo's threatening curse.
"I'll admit this is a bit of a personal project," Mort said, "but I think Grima would approve. Killing you just...doesn't seem fair. You got to come back, save the world, be big damn heroes. You think you're so great, and brave, and pure." Saliva began to fly from his mouth as the madman worked himself into a fury. "But everyone breaks. Take it from us. Everyone has a breaking point. Gerome, I am going to turn you into a mindless killing machine. Inigo, you get to become a crass, subservient coward. And Morgan here gets the best of it all. She's going to help Grima and I rule this world."
He shook Morgan, violently, as the others stood helplessly and watched. "Isn't that right, you stupid bitch? You think you can just deny your father's gift? You think you can undo his great work? You think, because you put off defeat a little longer than me, then that makes you BETTER THAN ME!?"
"Stop it!" Inigo yelled, taking a step forward. One Risen fired, an arrow slamming into the pavement and crumbling beside Inigo's foot.
"Don't even think about it," Mort snarled as Inigo, with great reluctance, backed up again. "Morgan here knows the pain and suffering I can inflict. She's learned first hand what I'm capable of. And so, she's going to help me break you, Inigo. Breaking you will be part of further breaking her. The woman you once loved will be the one who brutalizes you, crushes you, turns you into yet another subservient beast for GrimaaaAAAAGGHH!"
For a moment, Inigo and Gerome couldn't even tell what had just happened. Then it became apparent that Morgan had spun around and sunk her teeth into Mort. Hard. When she pulled back, her face was covered in blood.
A hundred Risen arrows turned to point at them, but Joab let out a yelp. "Don't shoot, idiots, you might hit Morgan! Uh, our Morgan!"
Mort continued to scream as he fell to the ground with Morgan on top of him. She was flailing madly now, fingernails clawing at his exposed face and eye, all her years of formal combat forgotten and replaced with a brutal, primal fight or flight instinct.
This Morgan always chose fight.
But while Mort may have been momentarily taken off guard, Grima's hate still flowed through his veins. He shoved Morgan backwards, sending her stumbling to her feet, then rose in one fluid motion and landed a devastating punch to her jaw, lifting her off her feet and sending her crumpling back to the ground by Gerome and Inigo.
"Fine. Okay. Fine," Mort snapped, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his face and arms where he was bleeding rather considerably. "You reject Grima's gifts. You reject my gifts. I get it. It's fine. We'll just kill you instead."
Joab and Wulf had moved over to Mort's side in case he needed any help, but he irritably waved them off. Still, they were now out of the way of the Risen, who had turned their full attention back to Gerome, Inigo and now Morgan, just waiting for a signal.
The two men helped Morgan back to her feet. She was reeling, but still conscious.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I failed-"
Inigo shut her up by kissing her on the mouth.
"No," he said once they had separated. "We're getting out of this. Right, Gerome?"
Gerome did not respond.
"Gerome? Hello? Words of encouragement? Master plan?" Inigo prodded.
"What the hell is that?" Gerome asked, squinting up into the night sky.
Others were following his gaze. Mort looked up at the faint shape growing ever closer, and let out a triumphant laugh.
"Oh, you guys are extra dead, now," Mort chuckled. "Nah is back!"
The dragon flew closer. Closer. It wasn't stopping.
"No," Gerome finally replied to Mort, his heart lifting. "That's not Nah. It's Nah!"
A great ball of green flame rained down on one side of the courtyard, exploding amidst one half of the gathered Risen, disintegrating many on the spot, and sending many more flying away from the carnage as useless ragdolls.
Nah swept back up and flew away once more, preparing to make a turn and come back down on the other half of the Risen.
"Hit the deck!" Gerome yelled, grabbing both Inigo and Morgan and diving to the ground with them. A hail of arrows from the remaining Risen, no longer content to stand idly by, flew over them. Had they been a moment slower, they'd have been dead before they hit the ground.
Arrows and chunks of Risen were raining down around them when the trio slowly lifted their heads. And there, blade drawn, charging forward without any apparent regard for the chaos or his own wounds, was Mort.
"Go!" Gerome shouted, grabbing his axe and rising to meet him. Axe and sword clashed. Mort was grinning from ear to ear. Even with his many injuries, he and Gerome both knew this was an unfair fight. So long as Mort had Grima's infusion of power, he would be unstoppable.
Gerome swung his axe forward, bashing away at Mort's every parry. He may not win this fight in the end, but he could unleash a hell of a beatdown in the meantime.
"Haven't we played this game before?" Mort asked, sneering at him. Oh how Gerome wanted to wipe that sneer…
"I'm not playing," Gerome responded, grunting with effort as his axe collided with Mort's sword close to the hilt, sending a shock of pain up the swordsman's arm.
"Oh, this is you trying? That's even sadder," Mort responded, spinning around, and landing a blow on Gerome's unguarded right thigh.
Gerome stumbled back, but before Mort could press the advantage, Nah was sweeping by overhead once more, so close and so fast that the force of her wings nearly knocked them both off their feet. Another explosion landed behind them, more flames flying up and Risen flying in every direction. The castle courtyard was mostly stone, but fires were still starting to spread, mostly across the Risen that were either dead or flailing around wishing they were.
Mort lunged at Gerome, who only managed to dive out of the way at the last moment. The blade scraped across his side, which stung, but was preferable to being pierced in the heart.
"You know, I was thinking of burning down your city after I finished killing all your friends," Mort taunted. "Thanks for the head start!" The spreading, surreal green flames gave him a demonic glow as he charged forward again-
-Into Inigo's waiting rapier.
"I told you to get out of here!" Gerome shouted, rushing in to join the fray.
"You're welcome," Inigo responded teasingly, his blade dancing lightly across Mort's, and even breaching his defenses a few times to stab into his already bleeding flesh.
"Where's Morgan!?" Gerome snapped, tensing for an opportunity to attack any opening Mort showed.
"With Lucina!" Inigo replied.
"Then where the hell is Lucina!?"
"FOR YLISSE!" came a ringing battle cry. Gerome stole a quick glance over his shoulder to see Lucina, Severa, Owain, Gaius, Libra, and dozens of recently trained guards and militiamen charging into the courtyard. Lucina stood at the front; she may not currently be the toughest fighter, but she still struck an imposing figure, back arched, face stern, Falchion pointed forward towards their unholy foe.
"And for wherever, whoever, or whatever else you feel like fighting for because I'm not really into nationalistic battle cries!" yelled Anna Prime, stepping up alongside Lucina as her own army of selves joined the Ylisseans, to generally much greater effect.
What Risen were left were quickly cut down. A few novice Ylisseans were overwhelmed and taken down, but for every Ylissean that fell, three Risen fell to his comrades.
Mort began to back up towards the castle steps, his face beginning to show signs of actual nervousness. The odds were beginning to look grim, even for him. However, upon reaching the stairs, he gained the high ground over Gerome and Inigo, and once more began to effectively beat them back.
"Come on! Let's finish this! Here and now!" Inigo yelled. Gerome grunted in acknowledgment. He wanted nothing more. And somehow, right now, with his best friend by his side, with the forces of Ylisse behind him, he actually felt like they could do it.
"ENOUGH! JOAB! WULF! TO ME!" Mort screamed. He discarded his sword and sent a magical shockwave outwards, sending Gerome and Inigo tumbling down the stairs. Joab had apparently been close by, taking pot shots from the steps with his longbow. Several young Ylissean soldiers were scattered about, dead or wounded with arrow shafts sticking out of them, but there were too many now, drawing too close to the castle.
Joab turned now and aimed an arrow at the fallen form of himself.
"What are you waiting for? SHOOT HIM!" Mort ordered.
"Th-there's too many of them!" Joab replied, hesitating. "We'll be overrun! We have to pull back and-"
"YOU will stay here and slow them down while I pull back to the gate," Mort snapped. "And you will start by killing that insolent fool who dares to wear your old name!" He took a step towards Joab, his fists clenched. "DO IT! NOW!"
Joab threw down his bow, and ran.
"COWARD!" Mort screamed to his retreating form. He turned back to Inigo and Gerome, who were steadily getting back to their feet and retrieving their weapons. "Well, there's more than one way to kill an egg," he snarled.
Further back in the courtyard, the veteran fighters had split up, going to whatever corners of the battlefield needed them most. Lucina stayed near the back; she was still able to take on the wounded and burning Risen that stumbled her way, but with her many injuries, she was still better suited in a tactical role than as a front-line fighter.
Then she saw Wulf. Though he was no taller than Gerome, his imposing build and freakish musculature made him seem to tower over the common men and women around him. A few soldiers charged at him, but with a single swing of his warhammer he knocked them aside like gnats.
Lucina's grip on falchion tightened. They locked eyes.
Wulf charged.
Lucina braced to meet him, waiting tensely as the man approached, closer, closer, moving like an unstoppable force…
...Right past her. Wulf grabbed Morgan, tossed her over his shoulders like an unresisting sack of flour, and began to barrel his way back towards the keep.
"No! Stop him!" Lucina screamed, helplessly, but the press of bodies was closing in around her too fast.
More Risen were pouring into the courtyard from Gods knew where. Gerome had felt, for a brief, flickering moment, that there was hope, that a final, decisive victory was within their grasp. But Mort seemed to possess a bottomless well of malicious resolve. No matter how hard they fought, Grima's power allowed him to fight back twice as hard.
"Ha, ha! Here come the party favours! Atta boy, Wulf!" Mort cheered. Gerome felt his stomach drop. They were barely able to push Mort back; if Wulf joined the fight, it might be all over.
But as he looked around, he saw that Wulf was pointedly avoiding them, delivering something he couldn't quite make out past them and up the stairs to the castle. Only when Inigo shouted out did Gerome register what it was - the flailing form of Morgan.
Then he felt the ground heave beneath his feet. This wasn't just another shockwave sent out by Mort - this was the ground itself ripping up around him. He took a panicked step back, and saw the steps to the castle raise into the air, become a jagged cliff face that ended just above his head.
He remembered the Castle as it stood near the end of his original timeline, surrounded by barricades meant to stop Risen from easily getting in. Now he saw Mort utilizing the same strategy, his magic rending the earth and twisting the stone to create a barricade of his own.
"We have to fall back!" came a voice by his side. Gerome turned to see Gaius, who was now tugging at his arm. "The Risen won't stop coming! Mort must have some sort of portal open! We've got to regroup!"
"Inigo!" Gerome called out. "Inigo, we have to-"
He looked around. His friend had been standing beside him just a moment ago, he was sure of it!
He looked up. There, dangling above them, was Inigo, grasping ferociously to the side of the earthen barricade, face locked in a grimace of concentration as he fought not to be thrown off. Inigo continued to dig in his nails and climbed up, until finally he curled his fingers around the stones at the top.
He could vaguely hear people shouting his name, but it sounded so far away. He was maybe 10 feet up in the air, but it felt like a mile. The sounds of the battle faded away, replaced by the wind, and by his thoughts.
He heard his father's voice. "Of course, son. Loving someone does that, you know? Makes you want to leap in front of certain death to protect them."
With a final grunt of effort, he hoisted himself up and over the ledge, and found himself standing face to face with Mort. Morgan was held tightly in Wulf's arms, while the big man watched him without much apparent interest.
"Well, look at you. Someone's been hitting the gym!" Mort said with a cackle. "Tell me, what was part 2 of this daring plan…?"
Inigo drew his sword.
"Oh! Oh, we're going to fight now?" Mort took a step forward, his blade still sheathed. "You realize I could just...gently push you, right? You'd fall backwards, and if you're lucky, land on your head and die. Of course, you might just end up breaking a few bones, but that would put you out of commission for a few days. You'd have to watch helplessly as I bring Grima forth to this world, watch as your friends died, one, by one, by one…"
Inigo tightened his grip on his sword, and planted his feet in a fighting stance.
Mort just laughed.
"So you want some climactic duel with me, is that it? You think that if the circumstances are dramatic enough, that will propel you to victory?"
Mort took another step forward. The laughter was gone from his face. Now there was nothing there, no emotion, no life behind the eyes.
"This isn't going to go the way you expect," he snarled.
* * *
"We've got to do something!" Lissa cried out. She was beginning to feel as if she said that a lot.
The Risen on ground level had been contained, primarily by the elite Anna fighters complementing the Ylissean forces. There were still dozens of bow-wielding archers atop the newly formed barricade, on either side of Mort, Wulf, Morgan, and Inigo.
"We could get up there if we had pegasus knights," Severa mused. "But they're all in Valm with my stupid parents! DAMNIT!" She spun around and kicked Owain in the shin, who had the misfortune of having been standing next to her.
"Ow! What'd I do?" he yelped.
"Allow me to handle this," came a serious, gravelly voice. A figure shrouded in a dark cloak approached, a katana in one hand, and a crossbow in the other. "I will effortlessly defeat this-"
"Shush, Deus Ex Mach-Anna," Anna Prime snapped. "Just because you have a cool cloak doesn't mean you're hot shit, okay?"
Deus Ex Mach-Anna pouted and turned away.
The group devolved into panicked chatter, trying to formulate some plan, some way to end this, to save Inigo and Morgan, to reclaim the castle, and to defeat Mort and Wulf and their Risen lackeys once and for all.
All except Gerome and Lucina, who stood side by side, silently staring upwards.
Finally, Lucina's voice cut through the chatter. "We don't need a pegasus. We have someone who can fly."
Nah was sitting on the ground, a flask of water held limply in her hand. Lissa had forced her to the back of the line to rest and recuperate. The manakete had already extended so much energy during the fight, after three straight days of flying, that she had been on the cusp of dehydration and exhaustion.
"No way!" Lissa fought back. "You can't ask her to do that, Lucina. She's too weak. She-"
Nah pushed herself up, and shoved her way through the group, until she was face to face with Lucina. Well, face to chest. The princess was much taller than her.
"I've learned something this past week, Lucina," Nah said. "You can be really annoying." Then she smirked, and took out her dragonstone. "I've got this."
* * *
Inigo maintained his fighting stance, the grip on his sword so tight that his knuckles were turning white. He stared unflinchingly into Mort's eyes.
"You're a failure in every timeline, aren't you?" Mort spat. "My Inigo ran away like a scared puppy, and you are going to die in the gutter for nothing. Things never change. There are constants. Grima will always return. Morgan will always serve. And Inigo will always be NOTHING!"
He lunged forward. He expected to have to feint and attack elsewhere in response to Inigo's counter, but Inigo was no longer paying attention to him. Mort's blade cut deep into Inigo's left shoulder, as Inigo drove his own rapier into Wulf.
In surprise and pain, Wulf released his grip on Morgan. Inigo grabbed her and pulled her close.
"Inigo!" she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so–"
Their eyes met, for the briefest of seconds that felt like an eternity. A wonderful, wonderful eternity.
Then Inigo shoved her backwards, off the edge of the cliff.
"Get her out of here, Nah!" Inigo screamed. "GO!"
The manakete had flown towards them, and now Morgan was clinging to her back. "Inigo!" She yelled. "Jump! Let's go!"
Mort rushed over to grab the bow Joab had dropped before quitting the field. He nocked an arrow, aiming it at Nah.
"GO!" Inigo screamed again, jumping forward, putting himself directly in between Mort and Nah.
The arrow loosed, and punctured straight through his chest. The sounds of the battle dimmed in his ears. It sounded like he was standing under a waterfall. He could feel his blood as it gushed from all ends of his body towards the wound.
He heard screaming behind him. People yelling his name. But he ignored it. Instead, he stepped forward.
"What is wrong with you?" Mort yelled, putting the bow down and drawing his sword once more. "Why won't you quit!?"
Inigo wasn't sure what was propelling him any longer. It was as if something else entirely was guiding his body, pushing him forward.
"You're right," he said, his voice soft, but Mort's eyes widened in surprise as if he had just slapped him. "There are constants across the timeline. And Morgan…deserves love. I'm so, so sorry you were denied that."
"Y-you…shut…shut the fuck up! What are you talking about!?" Mort screamed, gripping his sword.
"I'm sorry this happened to you, Morgan," Inigo went on. "You deserve to be loved. We all should have done more. To let you know how loved you were. That should never change, in any timeline. I–"
Mort screamed, a guttural, incoherent scream. He didn't understand what this fool was talking about. He didn't like this feeling of doubt and uncertainty. He didn't need anyone! He just needed Grima.
He just…
…Right?
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Mort screamed. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
"It's okay, Morgan," Inigo said. "It's all going to be okay–"
He barely felt it when Mort drove his sword into his throat.