Chapter 21
As Arya climbed up the hill behind Owain and Ita she was surprised to come to the realization that she wasn't actually nervous or scared. Instead she'd slipped into what she'd heard her teachers describe as 'mission time', where all other superfluous thoughts were pushed aside.
Even now, after a year spent travelling with him, Arya found it amazing how the loud, brash, easygoing Owain could switch so suddenly into a silent wraith, slipping from shadow to shadow without making so much as a sound with a concentrated frown on his face. Ita, too, padded ahead of them silent as a light wind, her nose twitching slightly as she tested scents and made sure the way was clear for her allies. Beside them Arya felt woefully inept. After all of her years living as a thief and an informant in the Themisian slums Arya was adept at not being seen when she didn't want to be. But she had grown in the last year, thanks to Robin and Lucina and Brady and Fae all taking such good care of her, and her larger body was sometimes alien to her. Her longer limbs reacted minutely slower due to their size, her center of gravity was changing now that she was actually developing breasts, she was taller, her hips slightly wider… it was frustrating, that she couldn't move like she used to, but Lucina had simply smiled knowingly when she'd brought her complaints to the older woman, promising her that she would get used to an adult body with time. But time, Arya contemplated, was not something they had an abundance of right now.
Her foot rose a fraction of a second too slow, the rough leather of the bottom of her boot brushing a stone. A barely perceptible sound, like a leaf falling to the forest floor. But still Owain hesitated, and Ita's ears twitched, her perpetual scowl deepening.
Stupid, clumsy girl, Arya berated herself, blushing with shame before sucking in a slow breath and resolving to do better.
They continued in this fashion up the hill for some time, scaling the rocky terrain silently yet quickly, Ita leading as the two humans followed behind her. To her credit Arya didn't lag behind and didn't make another mistake. They eventually climbed up onto a high ridge, Owain reaching down to clasp Arya's hand and help haul her up while Ita perched near the edge, the rocks sharp as knives beneath their feet, squinting into the darkness.
The hill had been a welcome reprieve from the endless dusty landscape, but the desolate, rocky peak was simply more of the same. Only harder, as if the dust had collected and solidified. Numerous times Arya had almost sliced her hands open on jagged edges, prompting her to wrap her hands in cloth to protect them like Owain had. Ita didn't even seem to notice the blood on her hands. However even on the rocky hill they hadn't escaped the perpetual dust. It puffed up in clouds whenever they stepped or moved, almost worse than down on the ground. After only a few minutes the niggling itch in the back of Arya's throat had grown almost unbearable. The young trainee tactician found herself thinking that hopefully they found a new source of water so she could finally rinse her mouth out. How Ita continued to constantly sniff the air here was beyond her.
"See anything?" Owain asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Ita cocked her head. "It is dark. And the distance is great. But I see… emptiness. Nothing. More sand and dust as far as the horizon."
The wolf shapeshifter shuddered. Arya could understand how she felt; multiple times during their travels Ita had complained about being 'a child of the forest', especially in the Plegian deserts. This would no doubt be a disturbing environment for one so used to the simple beauty of rugged forests.
"No settlements?" Owain persisted. "Landmarks? Flowing water?"
No people? Arya added in her head, too afraid to speak in case she was too loud.
Ita shook her head slightly, the beads in her hair clacking against each other softly.
"No manspawn settlements. No forests… no water… I see… wait."
Owain and Arya perked up, both instantly staring out at the empty, twilight darkness with renewed hope.
"I see something," Ita said.
Robin sat, waiting patiently with the rest of the Shepherds for Owain and his group to return in the little camp that they had set up. Although calling it a 'camp' was somewhat generous; all they had done was pile the bags and other luggage they had saved from the ruins in one place and started a small fire to ward off the incessant gloom, which they all now sat around. At some point Basilio had led Vaike and Ricken away as well, claiming 'water flows downhill' as they went to search for a source of drinkable water. With an irritated huff Idallia had followed after them, clearly still wary around the Shepherds without her Feroxi benefactor.
A few times they had come across brackish puddles, dregs in old stream beds and dried up lakes, but no one was desperate enough to drink the dark, tainted liquid yet. Robin fervently hoped that Basilio and the others did find something, though; they had run out of water the day before.
He gave a weak cough, catching it in his hand. He shook his head when he removed it from his mouth, discretely wiping the bloody spittle away. There was nothing he could do about it right now, anyway. Maybe once they got away from this blasted hellscape he could talk to Tharja about a curse or a hex to help slow the symptoms…
The tactician was also worried about Ricken; the younger mage had been somewhat taciturn since they had arrived wherever here was. But he had also been the first to volunteer for guard duty, or scouting, or anything really, as if he were trying to make up for his perceived failure at the Mages' Tower. At least he wasn't wallowing in his depression; he was trying to overcome it.
Tharja, sitting at his side, suddenly let out a small sigh as she rubbed her injured shoulder beneath her borrowed cloak. There was something strange about the mana in this land, and Maribelle's healing abilities were greatly diminished. To the point where no one who had been injured by Clarus or their subsequent rough landing was fully recovered, even after her ministrations. Which was worrying, given that her skills had been nothing short of awe-inspiring back during the wars with Plegia and Valm.
"Is it still bugging you?" Robin asked softly.
Tharja glanced up, dark circles around her eyes and grey dust marring her pretty face. Of course at this point none of them looked much better, but the mages had the worst of it. Galle was hardly sleeping, and Femi whimpered like a whipped hound in her own rest. Arya was withdrawn and quiet, and had started stammering again despite all the progress they had made with her confidence. Tharja's shoulder simply refused to heal, and Robin's back and neck throbbed painfully where the black cracks had spread. Maribelle had been tired and irritable, snapping at everyone for little or no reason, and Ricken had become withdrawn and quiet. Even Chrom and Owain, descended from Naga's bloodline, were beginning to feel the ill effects of the tainted mana of this place, both men appearing drawn and tired.
"I will manage," Tharja said, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards ever-so-slightly in her version of a reassuring smile.
"I have already seen to her three times," Maribelle snapped hotly from across the small camp. "It is simply phantom pain. All she need do is merely stop seeking attention and the pain will go away."
Tharja snarled, rising to her feet in a swish of cloak as Maribelle rose to face her, gripping her staff with white knuckles.
"Enough!" Chrom shouted, rising himself and interposing himself between them. "You two have been at each other's throats since we got here, and I've had enough. If you can't play nice like you did during the wars I will intervene."
"Tharja, this isn't like you," Robin said worriedly, standing, too. "You either, Maribelle. Wait… Maribelle, let me see your face… have you not let Tharja cast the warding hex on you?"
"I will not allow that witch to defile my flesh with her… her filthy malifecarum," Maribelle growled.
"I would not even if you begged," Tharja hissed in response. "And I will revel in your pain as you slowly go mad."
"Ladies," Chrom growled menacingly.
"Enough of this," Maribelle sighed, massaging her temples. "I wish for solitude. I will not wander far."
With that the magistrate turned on her heel and marched into the empty grey darkness, leaving a mystified Chrom and Robin standing with a seething Dark Mage, the rest of the present Shepherds looking on awkwardly. There was a moment of tense silence before Chrom sighed, running a hand through his dirty hair.
"I should follow her," the Exalt said, beginning to walk after her. "Hold down the fort until I get back."
After a few moments the darkness had swallowed the Exalt, too, leaving the Shepherds to collectively sigh and wait for one of the, now three, parties to return with news. Robin rounded on Tharja as soon as Chrom's cape disappeared into the darkness, frowning crossly.
"I expect better from you. What kind of example are you setting for your student?" he said. Her eyes immediately widened, as if she weren't expecting to be reprimanded. Femi shuffled uncomfortably next to Galle, pointedly looking anywhere else.
"I cannot cast the hex on someone unwilling," Tharja explained shortly, before giving a small sigh. "Besides, the earlier ones are already wearing off, anyway."
Galle gave a tired sigh of his own as Femi sucked in a panicked breath, the two mages overhearing Tharja's statement. A few of the others looked worried, too, but most just remained silent.
"I figured as much," Robin sighed. "What's the next step?"
"Acclimatization," Tharja said, returning to her seat. "We use your power to deflect the worst of the mana poisoning. But…"
"That leaves me undefended, right?" Robin asked softly, crossing his arms.
"Not good enough," Sully spoke up. "Either we all get your weird little defense hex, or none of us do."
"Agreed," Cherche added. "Surely you can do better. We all have faith in you."
"Well, most of us," Gaius shrugged with a small grin in the direction Maribelle and Chrom had disappeared in.
"It's not that simple," Tharja snapped, her voice sounding far more strained now.
"Bah. That's why I hate magic," Sully grunted dismissively.
"Pretend those of us that are actually mages don't understand either," Galle said dryly.
"Okay…" Robin shrugged. "Let me make it simple for you. An umbrella keeps you dry in the rain, keeps the sun off you, yeah? Tharja's suggesting using me as the umbrella."
"So what, we gotta carry you above us?" Sully asked.
"Metaphorically, Sully," Robin said with a grin. "Although I won't be opposed to not having to walk for a while. It means that if she uses me as the catalyst for a spell to divert the poisoned mana from the rest of you, I have to be left out."
"I could always continue to use the warding hex with the Exalt's blood on you," Tharja suggested, absently rubbing at her shoulder again. "It would be better than nothing."
The group lapsed into silence again, Robin and Tharja both resuming their seats by the fire.
"I don't like that idea," Olivia spoke up eventually.
Robin glanced up at her, quirking his brow. The usually timid dancer had a stony look on her face, doing a decent job of glaring the tactician down.
"May I ask why?" Robin prompted.
"You think you're hiding it, but you're not," she said bluntly. "You're sick. This place, everything that's happened with Grima's mana lately, it's making you sick. You're weaker than usual. Slower. I know that this place is slowly making us all sick, but it's been going on longer than we've been here, hasn't it? What… what would this spell end up doing to you? How much worse would it make you?"
Robin reeled, shocked at the dancer's perceptiveness. He exchanged surprised glances with Tharja, the Dark Mage shocked just as speechless as he was. He'd greatly underestimated Olivia's perceptiveness. A few of the other Shepherds present turned angry and hurt looks on Robin as well, for good measure.
"Gods, Robin, I thought you had grown out of this…" Cordelia sighed, shaking her head.
"That actually explains a lot," Gaius muttered.
"How long?" Sully asked angrily.
"It's been getting worse since Regna Ferox," Robin sighed. "Before that? Guys, it's honestly amazing I've lived this long. All this stuff with Grima is just… speeding things up."
"What do you mean… speeding things up?" Cordelia asked slowly.
"I'm saying that by all rights I should have died with Grima," Robin shrugged, quickly holding up his hands to forestall the denials he knew were coming. "And before you all get upset about it, that's not me being fatalistic, that's fact. Simply put, I'm meant to be dead. We still don't know what killing Grima did to me. I can tell you all now, though, that I don't have an inkling of resistance to dark magic like I used to. Just being here is poisoning all of you, but it's killing me."
"So we need to get out of here," Sully said. "Find someplace not as… dirty."
"My sentiments exactly," Robin nodded. "The faster the better."
"You'll get better if we get you someplace less tainted, right?" Olivia asked quietly.
"I hope so," Robin sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Galle let out a soft groan as he leaned back, settling his weight against the rock Femi was perched on. "This actually explains why you were such a hardass during your lessons. You wanted to get it all crammed into our heads before you…"
The younger man trailed off, his brow furrowing as he looked away. They all lapsed into silence, staring either into the shuddering firelight or into the surrounding darkness. Sully was gritting her teeth, still clearly uncomfortable with an enemy she couldn't just pummel even after all these years. Cordelia and Olivia both looked downcast, Olivia absently rubbing at the faint line still on her stomach from where that bastard Maris had stabbed her. Gaius unconsciously started patting down his numerous pockets and hiding places, looking for candy that was no longer there. Femi and Tharja exchanged a glance, but the older mage broke eye contact and let out a sigh. Cherche just looked tired, something wholly out of place on the wyvern rider's usually composed countenance.
They all glanced up as numerous footsteps approached, Chrom leading Maribelle as well as Basilio's quartet as they re-entered the firelight.
"Look what we found," the Exalt grinned.
"Yeesh, don't you all look gloomy," Basilio snorted, the big man grinning himself. "Well, we found something sure to make all of you smile again. We found potable water."
When Arya and her group returned to the Shepherds' camp she was flushed and out of breath. They had forgone stealth on the return journey, prioritizing speed above all else. Ita had pulled ahead numerous times, the wolf woman's natural reflexes and dexterity making the descent easier for her than the two humans. Arya's finely honed athleticism from years avoiding corrupt Themisian City Guards on the streets was put to good use, too, the girl jumping and leaping from crag to crag in a way that Owain simply couldn't follow. Even if she was being more careful than usual. Ad much to Arya's secret delight it wasn't her that slowed them down once the stealth factor was taken away, but Owain instead.
Still, though, the blonde man was hardly sweating by the time they reached the others. Not like her. Finally she was starting to feel the effects of the polluted mana again, Lady Tharja's hex wearing off. Her head was splitting with a headache that occasionally made her vision blur, but as they slowed at the base of the hill and she caught her breath the pain subsided. If it was this bad for her, though, she could only imagine how hard it was for the other mages who were actually skilled.
As they finally descended to within earshot of the others Owain spoke up, his confident voice carrying and echoing in the still air.
"Uncle Chrom! Uncle Chrom! There's something coming this way! … Uncle Chrom?"
"They went on ahead, lad. Figured we'd hang around for you, though. Wouldn't want you gettin' lost. Even if you are half Lon'qu, you're still half your mother, and she's not much of an out-doors type."
Owain came up short, Ita and Arya joining him a moment later in the remnants of the small camp that had been made. All that remained was a few scuffs, a multitude of footprints in the perpetual dust and the burned-out ashes of the fire they had had. Arya noticed that the Shepherds had even been so thorough as to have taken the logs that hadn't fully burned, leaving nothing but useless charcoal in a small pile.
Basilio grinned at them from one of the low rocks around their former campsite, his plates glinting in the dim pseudo-twilight. His toothy grin was a gash of white in the darkness, the older man blending perfectly. Arya realized that at some point he'd coated his armor and leathers in the ash-like dust that was everywhere. Beside the older man Idallia sat, arms and legs both crossed as she cast the scouting trio a quick glare out of the corner of her eye before going back to surveying the ample nothingness surrounding them. Her clothes were far cleaner, but still she had dusted down what few pieces of armor that she wore.
"Took you long enough," Idallia muttered, looking away from them.
"Where are the other manspawn?" Ita snapped, crossing her own arms.
"We found water," Basilio said, matter-of-factly. "They're probably already there, filling their canteens and skins. But I'm a little more worried about what you lot found. Details. Now, boy."
Owain nodded. "All we could tell was something was coming towards the hills. A caravan of some sort, coming in from the east. We couldn't get any more details than that."
Basilio cursed under his breath, slowly rising to his feet with both hands propped on his knees. The old Khan made Arya think of some elder god, slow and ponderous, but deadly when provoked; an unstoppable and unbreakable force of nature.
"Whoever they are, they're probably headed for the water, too. Not much else out here worth anything. Even the high ground was useless, from the sounds of things."
Owain nodded and Ita simply spat dusty phlegm onto the ground, seemingly bored with the conversation already. Arya stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like she had to say something.
"N-not totally useless, Khan Basilio, sir," she said, struggling to meet the giant man's one-eyed gaze.
"Oh? The runt talks?" the Khan said with a good-natured grin. "Out with it, girl!"
"I-in my… in my head I made a map of the surrounding area's landscape," she explained. "Like… uh, like Sir Robin taught me to. With a quill and some parchment I may be able to give us… a workable… map…"
Arya trailed off, glancing down and withering under the intense stares from the older Shepherds and Khans. After a moment Owain let out a groan, slapping himself in the forehead as Basilio gave a thundering laugh. His massive hand almost covered Arya's entire back as he patted her on the back, almost throwing her off her feet in his mirth.
"I can't believe I forgot to do that," Owain muttered. "Dad'll never let me hear the end of this…"
"So don't tell him," Idallia deadpanned.
"If he don't, I will!" Basilio continued to laugh, before finally calming. "Ah, thanks, girl. After the last few days I needed that laugh. Now, let's hurry and catch up with the others. They need to know we have company."
Without further warning the big old man was gone in a swirl of dust, Idallia heaving another sigh and following after him. Only a slight flick of her tail betraying her annoyance Ita followed, leaving Owain and Arya to bring up the rear.
She hurried along beside the blonde man, occasionally casting him curious glances. Like Exalt Chrom, Owain had forgone the hex that Tharja had placed on most of the others to protect them from the poisoned mana of this place. From what she could tell, he wasn't feeling the ill effects at all, just like his uncle, the Exalt. Numerous times during the last year Arya had heard Lucina call him 'cousin', and though she had never seen his brand, the Mark of Naga that all Ylissean royalty carried, the results now spoke for themselves. Even if he never did act like royalty…
"Feeling okay?" Owain asked, snapping Arya's thoughts out of her head.
"Uh, yeah," she managed as they jogged at the back of the group.
"You were pretty quiet," he went on. "I was getting worried."
"Weren't we… on… a stealth mission?" she asked slowly.
Owain's face was blank for a moment before a bashful grin spread and he gave a small chuckle. "Right. We were. And you did well."
"Were we hunting we would be going hungry," Ita called over her shoulder, her stronger-than-human hearing letting her hear their entire conversation.
Arya let a small sigh out her nose, looking down but refusing to let the weight of her words drag her down. Owain had said she'd done well, and he was the one that had been leading the mission. Even if she'd messed up a few times, she had performed better than most people would have, and she'd even gotten to show off a little on the way down. Risking a glance at the blonde man again she felt a small spark of relief as she realized he was shooting a glare at the back of Ita's head.
"Ignore her," he muttered. "You did well, and I'll be sure to tell Robin as much. But like he always says, 'just because you did well doesn't mean you can't do better'."
Arya nodded, a satisfied smile rising to her face.
By the time they joined Robin and the other Shepherds Arya was panting and sweating freely, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth from dehydration. She honestly didn't care how she looked anymore, more fixated on getting to the water that they had apparently found. A quick glance at the back of the group showed that she wasn't the only one struggling, Khan Idallia lagging behind and shooting glares at the backs of those in front of her. Their eyes met for a moment and Arya looked away from the older woman, unable to hold her gaze. It had been painfully similar to Maris'.
They came across Vaike first, the shirtless man perched atop a high rock sitting cross-legged with his axe across his lap.
"Look sharp, might have company soon," Basilio said gruffly.
"Friendly?" Vaike asked, surprisingly business-like.
"We'll find out soon enough," the Khan said, barely sparing the other man a glance.
They followed Basilio behind the rock that Vaike was perched on, the axeman seemingly scrutinizing the wasteland around them with a keener eye now. The old warrior led them through a small canyon of jagged rocks, Arya eying the sharp edges carefully and clenching fists around where she'd scratched her hands on her earlier hike. They emerged into a small clearing, filled with the other Shepherds. Arya instantly zeroed in on Robin and Galle, her teacher sitting towards the back of the space with her friend and the two Dark Mages. However, more pressing was the small waterfall pooling in a deep reservoir, which most of the other Shepherds were busily crowding around. It wasn't clean and pure by any means, but it looked fresher than anything else they had found, and even the air in the little hollow was cooler.
Owain let out an excited whoop as he rushed past them, straight towards the source of water. Ita followed close behind him, albeit silently, and bodily shoved Gaius out of the way to dunk her entire head into the cool liquid. The only thing stopping Arya from following the shape-shifter's lead was the chorus of irritated Shepherds admonishing the wolf-woman, who just ignored them as she shook the sodden auburn locks out of her face with a fang-filled grin.
"Much better," Ita practically purred.
Arya settled for shaking her head, desperately trying to suppress her grin and the urge to follow Ita's example. The trainee-tactician drifted closer to the pool as Basilio let Idallia to their small cache of supplies to report to Exalt Chrom, intent on at least getting a fresh drink for herself.
"She's lucky that she's Robin's problem," a voice said from Arya's shoulder. "We stuck Vaike on guard duty for doing the same thing."
Glancing up, Arya realized that Ylisse's Wing-Commander herself was addressing her. Arya gulped and nodded, totally at a loss with how to deal with the older Shepherd. In addition to the fact that she was Ylissean, Cordelia still managed to look absolutely striking despite the dust and grime caked to them all, too, making Arya even more aware of just how plain she was in comparison. Cordelia smiled, though, handing her a waterskin.
"Here, drink from this and give me yours. I'll refill it while I'm doing the others," the red-haired knight said.
"N-no! No, that's, that's okay, ma'am, I can… I'll do it… ah…" Arya stammered.
Cordelia just chuckled and shook her head, a thin and deceptively strong hand flashing out to snatch the empty waterskin from Arya's pouch before she could even react. "Drink slowly, okay? If you drink it all at once you'll make yourself sick. And you should check in with Robin, too."
Arya nodded somewhat numbly as the lithe pegasus knight walked off towards the spring, leaving her standing dumbstruck for a moment before the persistent ache in her throat brought her back to reality. Forcing herself into taking small, measured sips from the waterskin she headed over the where Robin was sitting with the others.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she got closer, the perpetual twilight doing nothing to hide the fact that Robin didn't look very good. He seemed pale, almost a sickly grey color, and his eyes had large dark circles around them. His condition seemed to be deteriorating faster and faster to Arya, but she was no cleric. She barely even qualified as a mage.
Still, though, once Galle nudged the older tactician in the shoulder and he looked up Robin's face split into a genuine smile when he spotted her.
"There's my star pupil," he said, his voice sounding tired.
"Technically, she's your only pupil right now," Galle drawled.
"Details, details," Robin chuckled. "How'd it go?"
"We spotted something coming this way," Arya reported.
This seemed to get everyone's attention, even Tharja and Femi freezing and glancing up from their spellbooks now.
"Friendly?" Robin asked.
"Not sure," Arya admitted. "But they're coming this way, and they'll be here soon."
As if on cue Chrom's clear voice echoed around the small grotto, bouncing off the walls and doubling back in a strange echo that made Arya slightly nervous for some reason. "Shepherds, gear up! We have company! Robin?"
"Everyone who wasn't on one of the scouting missions or isn't wounded, form up weapons free," the tactician said, rising effortlessly to his feet despite his apparent fatigue. "Scouting parties and wounded, finish filling up the waterskins and get the supplies together in case we need to make a quick escape. Arya, Femi, you're with me. Stay close."
The young apprentice mage jumped a little at the sound of her name, looking back to Tharja for confirmation before clapping her spellbook closed and moving to Arya's side. She looked dreadfully nervous, but then she hadn't had the experiences that Arya had in the last few years to steel her.
The rest of the group burst into activity, readying weapons or hurrying to fulfill their assigned tasks. Amazingly, the Shepherds in the rearguard automatically moved to tasks without having to be told or even communicate amongst each other. They set about gathering up the waterskins their allies had dropped the moment Robin's orders had been given while others began to bundle up the meagre supplies they still had. Then there were those who would be meeting with the locals, whoever or whatever they were, who were quickly and efficiently checking weapons and armor.
Barely a few more minutes went by before a strange, warbling bird cry echoed down to them from where Vaike was on watch.
"Out of time," Robin growled, his eyes narrowing. "Girls, stay close. Let's go."
Arya and Femi both hurried to keep up with him as he began to stride back to the opening of the small hollow with the rest of the Shepherds. For some reason Arya glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see Ita ignoring orders and following behind them, her long auburn hair still wet and dripping. She flashed another fang-filled grin at Arya, who couldn't help but grin back. It did strangely make her feel better to know that the wolf-woman would be watching her back.
Basilio frowned from beside the pile of refuse they were joking calling 'supplies', crossing his arms and watching the majority of their group leaving the small spring. From beside him Idallia looked up, sneering a little.
"Not following the fight?" she asked.
Basilio shook his head. "I can follow orders," he grinned. "When I feel like it."
Idallia huffed, going back to tying the lengths of wood they had salvaged together for transport.
The old Khan had another reason for staying behind, though. He was tired, and he knew that his charge was, too. Idallia talked tough, but she was still a pampered merchant-princess who had no idea what kind of hardships she was in for if this went the way he was expecting it to. And he'd never admit it, but he wasn't as young as he used to be, either.
None of them were immortal. Hell, Flavia had shown that herself, and Basilio had honestly expected her to outlive him by a good margin.
"Hello? Khan Basilio!"
The Khan resisted the urge to jump, his gaze snapping down to Idallia. The merchant had her own arms crossed now, glaring up at him. It was almost cute the way she thought her glare was threatening.
"Are you even paying attention?" she snapped.
"I am now. What's so important you have to disturb an old man his musings?" Basilio asked with a sarcastic grin.
"Give. Me. Your. Waterskin," Idallia ground out. "I'll go fill it while I do mine."
The older man couldn't help but smirk. "That sounds almost like you'd be doing me a favor."
"Calculated self-interest," Idallia corrected him. "You're the only verified ally I have here. And I get the feeling that this… whatever this is… is going to take a little longer than just a couple of days."
Basilio nodded. She was smarter than she looked. Although, that was a given considering she'd basically run the Southern Merchant Council through her own little hoops despite her young age. He pulled the empty waterskin off his belt and tossed it to her in an underhanded throw.
"I may be the only friend you've got here, but the Shepherds won't just abandon you," Basilio pointed out.
"I'd rather not take that chance," Idallia muttered, narrowing her eyes for a moment before moving to the spring.
Basilio was left alone with his own thoughts for barely a moment before Lon'qu's brat appeared before him in a blur of yellow tunic and blonde hair. How the boy was such a good tracker despite his bright clothes was almost as great a mystery as how that surly bastard Lon'qu had managed to bag him that spritely little Ylissean princess.
"Khan Basilio, are we really going to just sit here and wait?" Owain asked in a huff.
"Yes," the old man rumbled, arching one brow.
This simple answer brought Owain up short. The blonde boy's slack face and confused eyes actually brought a grin to Basilio's face as he slapped Owain on the back. "We got orders, boy. Get these supplies together."
"And what will you be doing?" Owain asked, almost pouting and looking exactly like his mother.
Basilio just grinned again, crossing his arms and sinking to a hip. "Following orders."
Robin watched with the rest of the Shepherds as the plume of dust from whatever was coming drew steadily closer to them, feeling a small sense of trepidation. They had no way of telling what this was, no intel, no scouting reports, no local knowledge… he was going in blind, something he hadn't done in years, and it made him uncomfortable. He couldn't stop a small frown from making its way onto his face as they waited for the inevitable. He was confident that the Shepherds could handle just about anything that the world could throw at them at this point, but still he felt nervous.
Eventually the dust plume resolved itself into a small train of caravans as they came closer, ragged-looking horses and figures sitting atop them and the carts they pulled visible through the cloud, heading directly for the Shepherds. Or, Robin reasoned, the water. At the very least he could be confident they weren't Risen. While Risen would use their own undead mounts he'd never even heard of them using vehicles of any kind.
"Steady, Shepherds" Chrom ordered reassuringly. "We won't act as aggressors, but we won't roll over and die, either. Be ready."
Robin had to admit that the Exalt looked almost excited at the prospect of this unknown group. A few of the others around them seemed similarly inclined; clearly their isolation had been taking a toll on a few of the more social of the Shepherds.
"Should we… I don't know, wave them down or something?" Robin asked the Exalt. "Let them know we're here?"
Chrom seemed to ponder this for a moment, eyes distant as he watched the ever-approaching cloud of dust. "What was the identifier for Ylissean forces during the Liberation of Valm?"
"Blue flames," Robin answered without a moment's thought.
Mages had been used to identify the various groups on the battlefields during the fighting away from the Shepherds; a mage would shoot into the air blue flames for Ylissean or their allied Feroxi forces, red sparks for Dynast or Valmese Resistance soldiers. Or that had been the plan, anyway. When the Dynasts had betrayed them at Fortress Steiger identification had become far simpler; run like hell from everyone.
"Let's take a chance," Chrom decided. "Let them know we're here."
"Galle, would you like to do the honors?" Robin asked over his shoulder.
The Plegian boy stiffened, frowning. "I'm actually more of a wind mage…"
"Oh for Grima's… I'll do it," Femi declared. "Blue flames, right?"
"Right," Chrom snickered. "Just shoot them a few feet into the air so they see us."
Femi nodded, the young Dark Mage pushing through the crowd of Shepherds to stand at their forefront. She took a moment to adjust the collar of her cloak before taking a deep breath and holding her hand in the air. Making magical flames was a simple spell, one of the beginner-level ones that didn't require a spellbook if a mage was worth their salt. It was when one wanted to put stopping power behind the spell that a catalyst was required, and adding strength via a spellbook was the easiest way. Femi closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them a small fountain of brilliant blue flame shot from her hand into the sky. She held it there for a moment before making a fist and cutting the spell off, retreating back through the Shepherds to Robin's side.
"It was a little more difficult than I expected to alter the colour for the first time," she admitted, almost sheepishly.
"You did well," Chrom complimented. "They can't possibly have missed that."
"Not like they weren't coming right for us to begin with," Gaius mumbled.
"But now they know we're here," Robin pointed out. "So now, if they're friendly, they won't be as inclined to attack us."
"And if they're not friendly we just gave our position away," Galle added sourly.
"It's always half-empty with you," Robin chuckled.
"If they're not friendly, like I said, we won't just roll over," Chrom assured the younger tactician. "Shepherds! Form up on me!"
The Shepherds didn't have to wait much longer, the first of the beaten up old wagons stopping a few meters back and disgorging what appeared to be a squad of soldiers into the gloom. Robin tensed a little, recognizing the outline of Valmese armor, but then froze. He'd spotted Chon'sinian armor. And… Chengshi-style armor, too.
"What's going on?" he muttered.
"Sir?" Arya asked softly.
"Stay here," Robin ordered, pushing through to the front of the group with Chrom.
"Notice something?" the Exalt asked.
"Maybe," Robin sighed. "Hope I'm wrong."
The soldiers approached slowly but without reservation, some limping and some swaying dangerously as they neared. A few towards the front of the group drew weapons, but the majority just shuffled, almost mindlessly, towards them. For a moment Robin was worried that these were some new form of Risen, and raised his hand to shoulder height. He hesitated, though, and turned to wave Femi forward. She nodded, moving up and lighting a small magical flame above her fingertips.
And as one, the ragged soldiers in tattered uniforms and broken armor shrunk away from the light.
"Are you human?" Robin called out to them.
"Are you?" one of the soldiers called back.
Robin gave Femi a nod and she reduced the flame above her hand, dimming the light a little. A few of the wretched people edged closer, shielding their eyes from the light while still trying to get a good look at the Shepherds. A man in battered Valmese officer's armor stepped forward, lowering his arm but still squinting at the light of the flames. A few more men wearing little more than rags and scraps of old armor moved to his back, the majority staying just outside of the light of Femi's spell. He counted as least thirty shapes in the gloom outside the sphere of light, and there may well have been many more near the wagons.
Chrom stepped forward, too, almost twice the other man's size.
It took Robin to realize that Chrom seemed so big because the Valmese man was thin to the point of emaciation. Even when they had picked up Arya in Themis she had looked healthier than this group. Painfully thin hands trembled as they struggled to hold weapons up, many swaying at the effort or simply using their weapons to hold themselves up.
"Greetings," Chrom said slowly. "You understand me?"
"Yeah, you're speaking the common tongue," the Valmese said, as if Chrom were an idiot.
Robin had to smirk at the surprised look on the Exalt's face. Clearly it had been a long time since anyone besides him had spoken to Chrom that way. The Exalt rallied, though, clearing his throat and smiling.
"We are lost travelers, trying to figure out where we are. Would you help us?"
The man's brow furrowed for a moment as he studied the Shepherds arrayed before him. Robin expected no trouble from them; in fact it appeared as if a strong breeze would knock most of the soldiers over.
"You kind of have the water hostage," the man reasoned slowly. "So sure, we'll help. But what help could we give?"
"Maps," Robin said, stepping forward now. "And information. Start with where we are."
The man glanced at the tactician for a moment before shrugging. "You're in what's left of Valm. Where are you from? One of the Eastern nations?"
"You could say that," Robin nodded slowly.
"You say 'what's left of Valm'," Chrom added. "Do you mean Imperial Valm?"
"I mean 'all of Valm'," the soldier responded.
"What could have happened to reduce the entire continent to this wasteland?" Chrom asked aghast.
The man looked at Chrom with a disbelieving expression, mirrored by every man behind him. A sinking feeling formed in Robin's stomach at this; whatever had happened had happened a long time ago. It was common knowledge by this point, at least among these people.
He almost didn't want to hear their answer.
"The Fell Dragon happened," the soldier said. "A… long time ago. Where have you lot been all these years that you don't know?"
Robin trudged along beside one of the Valmese carts, absently watching the featureless countryside pass by as he walked. Arya and Femi were still following behind him, and Galle was walking at his shoulder. Tharja and Ricken were riding in the cart that had the Shepherds meagre supplies in it with Maribelle and those Valmese that were too exhausted to walk anymore. The rest of the Shepherds were spread out among the convoy, helping out wherever and however they could, their comparative strength and vitality making them an unexpected boon to the exhausted survivors.
The Valmese 'Captain' that had spoken to them, a tired man named Victor that was leading the group simply because he was the only one among them that had survived since the last trek to the wellspring, had taken the Shepherds in without comment or complaint. Apparently it had been common at one point to come across wandering bands of refugees, but had become far less so in recent years. A few of the Valmese regarded the Shepherds with curious looks, but none were outwardly hostile. For all intents and purposes it seemed as if they were too exhausted for hostility.
The carts strained and creaked under their precious loads, the survivor soldiers having drained the wellspring dry to fill the empty barrels on each cart with water. Apparently their leaders were planning an exodus, and this was to be one of the last steps before they took the remaining civilians and everyone else and made for the Eastern Kingdoms.
Valm was gone. Dead. Walhart and the Imperials were gone, leaving naught but scraps behind. Precious few from Chengshi had survived Liung's valiant last stand. Even Chon'sin and the other smaller dynasts hadn't been spared.
Because this was one of the myriad futures, one where they had failed. One where the Fell Dragon had been victorious.
The thought still made Robin feel numb.
Owain had taken it hardest. He'd put on a brave front, just like his mother always did, but the blonde man had been very shaken by the news. Most of the Shepherds had stoically accepted this information. A slight downturn of Tharja's lips, a quiet sigh from Cherche, Ricken glancing off into the distance. A few of the others had hidden behind false bravado. Vaike had almost seemed excited by the prospect of fighting their greatest enemy again, and Sully had grinned that predatory smile she got when she knew a strong opponent was coming. But Robin knew that neither of their hearts were in it.
The newcomers to their group had just seemed lost. Unsure how to handle such an unbelievable story. Arya had kept looking back and forth between the Valmese man, Victor, and Robin, not even trying to disguise her fear. Similarly, a quaking Femi had looked to her own teacher for guidance, seemingly finding solace in Tharja's unshakable bearing. Ita had seemed to be the least effected out of everyone, simply growling and spitting out more dusty phlegm.
Galle…
"This is just freaking perfect…" the Plegian boy muttered for the umpteenth time, trudging along beside Robin. "Just perfect… we get out of this and I'm retiring… screw being a tactician if this is the kind of crap I've gotta deal with…"
"Yes, I'm sure you'll make Mari a lovely house husband, right Arya?" Robin said with a sidelong grin.
"W-what?" Arya stammered, looking up suddenly.
"Imagine Galle in a little pink, frilly apron," Robin snickered.
Arya turned her head to look at the glowering older boy for a moment before she snorted, struggling to hold back her laughter.
"Does he get a little feather duster?" Femi added from behind them.
"Okay, I know what you're doing here," Galle seethed. "You're playing 'distraction'. Well… damn. It worked. Stop doing that!"
Arya and Femi both giggled at Robin's innocent look, the white-haired tactician not being able to help it and laughing along with them as Galle sighed and shook his head. Robin's breath hitched, though, and he descended into a fit of coughing so hard he doubled over for a moment. It passed as quickly as it came, though, and he straightened, grinning like usual in the face of the concerned looks he was getting.
"It's this damned dust. It's driving me nuts," he lied.
None of the three younger travelers looked convinced, but after a moment of awkward silence Galle gave another sigh, glaring at his former teacher.
"You say I'd be a good house husband, but what about you? Lucina seems to have you pretty whipped…"
"That's 'Lady Lucina' to you," Robin mumbled, looking away as a slight blush crept up his cheeks.
Chrom glanced over his shoulder at where Robin's little group were laughing again, a small smile of his own alighting on his face. The Exalt rode with Victor on the lead wagon, pulled by a mangy looking pair of horses. Despite this, though, the horses pulling the wagons looked to be in better shape than the people riding on them.
"Well, there's something we don't hear that much anymore," Victor sighed, following the Exalt's gaze.
Chrom nodded, stopping himself before he could say 'I can scarcely imagine what you've been through'. The truth of the matter was after hearing about it from his own time-travelling daughters and their friends he could picture it quite easily. But still, that didn't mean he'd wanted to be proven right about his imagined future.
"Tell me, Victor," Chrom said, facing forwards again. "What do you know of Ylisse's current situation?"
The Valmese man shrugged. "Communication broke down after the Day of Revival. Haven't heard anything in more than a decade."
"Yet your leaders would risk everything to go there?" Chrom asked.
"Gotta be better than here," Victor scoffed. "Besides, from the look of you lot I'd say that the Eastern Kingdoms are just the haven we need."
"I would not be so sure," Chrom nodded, both men falling silent again.
The blue haired man watched the unchanging, twilight countryside pass them by, alone with his own thoughts before Victor spoke again.
"You know, these horses? They're worth more than I am," he said, his tone conversational.
"That's horrible!" Chrom said.
Victor just shrugged. "Yeah, but it's a big deal that they let me take them. Me, a nobody, when Lady Say'ri herself was chomping at the bit to-"
"Wait, Empress Say'ri is your leader?" Chrom asked quickly.
"Yeah… one of them, anyway," Victor said slowly. "Although I'd advise against calling her 'Empress'. She, ah, doesn't like it when people call her that anymore, on account of Chon'sin being a pile of ashes."
Chrom looked down, his expression stricken for his friend and fellow ruler. After all the fighting and pain she had suffered to free her homeland, only to have it reduced to ashes…
"What of… Exalt Chrom?" he asked slowly.
Victor shrugged again. "Last word we got outta Ylisse was he was dead and his kid was taking the throne. That was, I dunno, fifteen-ish years ago? When Lady Say'ri returned with news that Grima had awakened. I… kinda wish more of us had listened to her warnings back then."
Chrom nodded, lost in thought as he processed this new information. Clearly, this wasn't their version of the future. It was possible that Robin's spell had somehow transported them to Lucina's future, where she and the others had travelled back from. Although it was also possible that Robin had accidentally spirited them away to some alternate future altogether. Judging from the state of what he'd seen of Valm this future was far, far worse off than even the one Lucina and the others had come from. Chrom's musings were interrupted, though, when Victor let out a long sigh.
"Man, you guys are so lucky," he muttered, looking away from the Exalt. "I'd honestly forgotten what 'beautiful' is supposed to look like."
It was Chrom's turn to follow the other man's gaze this time, smirking a little when he realized Victor was leering at Cordelia.
"She has a husband," Chrom deadpanned.
"Ah, don't they all?" Victor grumbled, facing forward again. "Comes a point when everyone starts to look the same here. Thin and dirty and desperate. Hope we get away before you and your friends have to deal with that."
Chrom nodded, silently agreeing with the Valmese man.
By Robin's estimation they had been travelling for three or four more days, but it was still hard to tell. The Valmese survivors, for that's all he could think of them as now, were far less regular than the Shepherds had been in their travel. They stopped when the horses wouldn't go on anymore; sometimes that was a few hours, sometimes much longer. Many of them barely slept, and when they did they whimpered miserably in their sleep. Many woke screaming, but it was the ones who were totally silent, both awake and asleep, that made Robin worry the most. Their eyes, when they would meet his gaze, were empty. Devoid of not only hope, but of any emotion.
He had to wonder just how long these people could continue to live with Grima's taint. It was a malign influence, it ate away at the soul. And these people had been forced to suffer through that hell for decades now. Some of the younger ones, he imagined, hadn't even seen the sky before.
Such was Grima's power, though. He was a parasite, a sickness, an unnatural force that should never have been. Yet the same could also be said about himself, he thought with a rueful chuckle. What was he if not an unnatural entity, eking out a meagre existence now that Grima was gone from his world? He shook these thoughts from his head as soon as they would form, though. He had a good life in Regna Ferox, a life with his wife and daughter. There was nothing meagre about that.
But these Valmese survivors, they had nothing left. Nothing but the slim hope they could find a new life in Ylisse. Or whatever was left of Ylisse. Chrom had shared his musings with the rest of the Shepherds after talking with the Valmese man Victor, and Robin had to guiltily agree with his sentiments. In trying to save Ylisse in their own world he'd surely sent them to the forgotten future that they hadn't been able to save.
Beside him Idallia coughed, seemingly having as much trouble with the dust as he was. While she wasn't his favorite person in the world, right now he would take what distraction he could. Without thinking Robin held out his own waterskin to the woman.
"I do not need your charity," she snapped, her voice raspy.
"You already drank all of yours, didn't you?" he asked.
"Not… all of it," Idallia muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.
"Right, sure," Robin smirked. "Fortunately, I'm used to this kind of marching. So here, I'll share mine with you."
Idallia seemed about to protest again before she sighed through her nose and nodded, pulling her own waterskin out of the pouch Basilio had given her. Like she had said, it wasn't quite empty. But it was dangerously close, and Robin had to wonder how much she had been rationing. The pair stopped, letting the rest of the convoy slowly trundle by as Robin carefully poured half of his remaining water into her waterskin, leaving them both with maybe a quarter each. Then, mindful of waste, he licked the precious droplets that had escaped the rim while he'd been pouring off his hands.
"Thank you," Idallia muttered, as if the words were acid on her tongue.
"You know, I'm sure we could find you a cloth to use as a mask," Robin said as they started to walk again. "Like some of the Valmese are wearing? I've been thinking about it a while myself."
Idallia wordlessly nodded, silently following the convoy beside him. Robin had to wonder, though, where he would get any cloth they could use. All they had managed to save from the Mages' Tower was timber and paper, and it didn't look like the Valmese would have much in the way of excess to share. With a shrug Robin shrugged his coat off and handed it to a perplexed Idallia. Then he used his dagger to make a few small cuts, and tore his long sleeves away from his shirt. Lucina would probably kill him for doing it, but they needed to keep the dust out of their faces more.
"It's hot anyway," Robin shrugged, grinning as he pulled his coat back on.
Idallia watched wordlessly, a slight dip in her brow, as Robin tore the sleeves into a shape that would allow them to be tied around their heads. Once he was done he handed the scrap of cloth to Idallia, smiling as he went about tying his own around his face. Idallia hesitated a moment before emulating him. Once it was done even the cloth couldn't disguise the disgusted face that she made.
"You stink," she said.
"You can always give it back," Robin quipped.
"I think I will keep it," Idallia grimaced. "I have already been made to endure far worse."
"I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'," Robin said, rolling his eyes. "And, by the way? You're welcome."
Idallia bristled. "Do not think that now we will be 'friends' like the rest of-"
"Oh come off it," Robin snapped, rounding on her. "You know what? I do not care that you tried to kill me. I do not care that you demolished my fort, endangered my students and almost killed my daughter. We can worry about that later, but right now weather you like it or not we need to work together. So shelf the crappy attitude and get over yourself."
With that he spun and stomped a few feet ahead of her, mostly out of irritation with the merchant woman but also to hide the coughing fit his angry words had given him. After a few more moments of walking in silence Idallia caught up from where she had been standing, slack jawed behind her mask, and came alongside Robin again.
"Thank you for the mask," Idallia said, her voice far softer than when she usually addressed him.
"It's fine," Robin sighed before breaking into a grin. "If you want to pay me back you can explain to my wife why I had to tear the sleeves off my shirt."
"I think I will find another form of compensation," Idallia deadpanned.
Robin opened his mouth to make some form of comeback, but hesitated when a low rumbling caught his attention. The ground shifted ever so slightly, and he and Idallia shared a wide-eyed look. At the head of the column Victor was standing on his cart, trying to get a good look at what was ahead of them.
"Dammit, no, no-no-no-no-no!" the Valmese man cursed.
Robin went running up to the cart, where Chrom was already jumping down to the dusty earth.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"We're at the coast," Chrom said quickly. "Apparently there are Risen attacking the ships."
"Wanna show them why the Risen in our own time would run screaming when they saw us?" Robin asked with a grin behind his mask.
Chrom answered with a grin of his own, turning back to the convoy.
"Shepherds! Fall in! We've got Risen to slay!"
AN: Anyone remember when I actually had an update schedule for this story? Yeah, me neither… I am straight up not happy with this chapter, but I needed to get it done to finally bridge the story into the Future Past content. I say that a lot, though… I'm just never satisfied with my work. It is getting so damn hot here. And of course, my brother managed to break not only his own, but all of the air conditioners. I suffer.
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