Chapter 8 – Erin 5
"Wrong," Bihev said, tossing away Shirou's most recent attempt at recreating Midjinor.
The blade clattered on the stone floor, skidding past the red-haired fairy.
Shirou didn't move, still as a statue.
He just stared at the giant Dwarf blankly, his golden eyes glowing brighter than usual. The moment stretched, Shirou's hands balling into fists, trembling slightly.
Bihev didn't notice, fast asleep. Or maybe he ignored him.
Shirou breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. He slowly counted to ten in his head before breathing out. Yet his expression didn't change. He felt as if fire clawed at his throat, but his face remained blank.
Throwing one last glance at the sleeping fairy, he left, picking up his sword on the way out.
No one talked to him on the way back, fairies of Nibelung parting before him, keeping their distance. He barely noticed their presence. He walked through a corridor of empty space, weary eyes watching him from the sides, a rare stillness gripping the grand chamber until he disappeared into one of the countless tunnels.
Back in his forge, he carefully placed the blade on his anvil, his movements slow and measured as if the weapon was made out of fragile glass.
He stared at it, taking in every detail, scrutinizing every inch. A beautiful sword, gleaming with gold, purple, and sharp steel. A perfect replica of Midjinior. A weapon worthy of any hero.
And yet…
…it wasn't enough.
He clutched at his chest, the metal filaments of his clothes cold under his touch. His eyes were locked in place, even when an ugly snarl twisted his expression.
He tried to calm down, but it was too much.
With a roar of rage, he picked up his hammer and stuck the anvil with all his strength. A shockwave ran through his small forge, rattling the walls and kicking up dust, but the object of his anger remained stubbornly intact. His replica of Midjinior was too strong to break so easily, the blade still in one piece, mocking him.
It just pissed him off more.
Shirou tapped into his reserves, greedily pulling out massive amounts of magical energy, his Fairy Patterns glowing brightly under his red tunic.
His hammer fell once more, this time backed by his magic. He didn't bother with any spells, just feeding it his fury.
Dark red flames burst from under his hammer, quickly filling his forge. The flames eagerly devoured everything they came in contact with, burning his remaining tools and furniture to ashes but failing to find purchase on his red outfit. He paid it no mind, busy venting his anger. He struck again and again, deafening tremors shaking his little corner of the mountain until both the sword and hammer shattered into countless splinters in an eruption of glittering metal.
Shirou grabbed the handle of Midjinior, the last remaining big piece, and threw it at the wall, the golden-purple bit of metal embedding itself deep, creating a small crater.
He glared at it hatefully, his breath escaping him in ragged gasps as the flames dissipated, leaving behind glowing cherry-red walls.
When he finally calmed down, his legs folded under him, and he dropped to the ground. He felt hollow, empty, now that the anger was gone. The floor was still dull red but no longer a semi-molten rock.
He wished it could bother him.
He stared at his open palms, the walls casting everything in a red hue, before curling up and burying his face in them.
"…damn it."
In the southern parts of what in time will be called Britain, an explosion rang through the air. If a human were there to witness it, deep in the inhospitable forest, he would see a small shape bursting out of the ground. Seconds earlier, there was a curious stack of rock there. Large slabs of moss-covered granite leaning on each other since time immemorial, forming a small triangular cave.
Now, only fragments of these monoliths remained, some still raining down from their unexpected detonation. The cause of all that destruction was gone before the first fragments hit the ground.
Miles away, a red fairy rushed through the forest, bouncing from tree to tree. Golden patterns glowed on his face and neck, disappearing under his cloak.
If someone asked Shirou why he destroyed the Waygate, he would honestly say he didn't notice. He only sensed something was wrong when the mana in the air shifted, growing turbulent as it flowed to fill the gap created by the collapsed passage.
Even then, he didn't consider stopping for a second. A shadow of regret passed through his mind, but he forged on, concentrating on his Reinforcement.
He filled his body with as much magical energy as possible, increasing his fairy form's already impressive capabilities. Each step propelled him forward faster and faster, the surrounding forest turning into a blur of brown and green.
Still, he was so slow.
A snarl of frustration escaped him as the forest ended and, with it, the convenient springboards in the form of trees. You would think that an open plain would allow for a faster run, but when your reflexes were quick enough to avoid any obstacle, the soft earth and wet grass only made it harder to launch yourself forward.
He tried.
He really tired, but in the end, he stayed in Nibelung for the whole ten years. After his last meeting with Bihev, he secluded himself in his forge. He was afraid he would actually attack the giant Dwarf if they were to meet again, which could end only in one way. Shirou was powerful, he knew that, but he wasn't so arrogant to think himself invincible. Bihev was a Great Father, the strongest type of fairy, a being whose will shaped a part of Faery itself. Shirou was sometimes mistakenly referred to as an Elemental, but even if he was one, he didn't think he would be able to defeat Bihev. Not in a straightforward fight.
His last few years Shirou spent trying to find a way around the promise that bound him to Nibelung and on worrying about Scathach. Unfortunately, he didn't find any loopholes. As a distraction, he often took up his hammer. It never lasted long, his mind always wandering back to his student, but at least he finally finished crafting himself some fireproof clothes.
Days passed as Shirou ran, heading straight north. He cut through rivers, forests, and mountains, always taking the shortest path.
Yet, he felt like something was off.
The further north he got, the more foreboding the signs became. Burned-up villages, nothing more than overgrown stumps of blackened wood. Old battlefields filled with bleached bones, with soil so soaked in blood and negative emotions that he saw them from miles away, shining like beacons in his Fairy Eyes.
From all he heard, the south was supposed to be a peaceful land united under a wise king, but it was no longer the case, it would seem.
Ten years was a short time for a fairy, but the human world could change a lot in that time. War could erupt at any moment, and during his eight years by Scathach side, he saw that happen twice. He experienced more change in that short time than in most of his three hundred years in Faery.
When he reached the highlands, the more familiar lands, the pit in his stomach grew larger. Some of the villages he remembered were gone, in ruins, or simply abandoned. The town of Inver was still there but much more fortified. The aura of the place was darker than even the time he first passed by it.
Shirou didn't like it.
He raced through the hills, jumping from hilltop to hilltop. His heart raced in his chest, and not just from his exhausting sprint. The closer he got to Skye, the more humans he encountered. Bloodied warriors limping through the inhospitable terrain. Entire bands of heavily armed men and women. All moving south. All filled with despair and hopelessness.
All wearing similar gear, stripped of recognizable markings.
Finally, Shirou crested the last ridge, the Isle of Skye appearing before him in the distance, and his heart sank at the sight.
The narrow lake separating Skye from the mainland was filled with ships. Some were burning or destroyed, and others were trying to leave. Each was full of humans desperately trying to push the vessels into open waters. Some didn't even try to come aboard, simply throwing their weapons and armor away and braving the deeps. All the while arrows rained on them from above.
An army in retreat.
It didn't improve Shirou's mood at all.
There were a lot more ships than soldiers trying to escape would fit into. Either this army got slaughtered almost to the last man, or this was just a smaller part of a bigger force. Considering that Skye's army didn't push the advantage and was content to just whittle down the enemy from afar, then the bulk of their men was probably tied down somewhere else.
A haze of magical energy surrounded Shirou as he pulled on his well of power. He crouched low, reinforcing his legs to the utmost limit, before jumping, leaving behind a deep crater. The air broke on his body, a loud crack accompanying the sound of his explosive jump and drawing the attention of the distant armies.
Shirou didn't care; focused on reaching his student as soon as possible. Everything else didn't matter. He crossed the lake and passed both armies faster than they could notice, a red shadow in the corner of their eyes.
Close to Scathach's castle, he finally sensed his student. When he saw her, she stood in the middle of a battlefield, just like he feared. She was relatively okay, thankfully, and the fighting was already over. Thousands of corpses lay strewn across a shallow valley, a river in the middle stained red with blood. Scathach seemed lost in thoughts, staring into the distance with a small smile. She was alone, surrounded only by dead bodies, a spear in her hand. Her army was busy taking captives and tending to their wounded, leaving their queen alone for some reason.
Shirou approached her silently, now hesitant after his mad run. He wanted to apologize for returning so late, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. It seemed like an invisible wall stood between them.
Scathach turned her head, finally noticing him.
"Oh? What's this?" She asked, still smiling, yet her eyes were terribly cold. "Another enemy for the slaughter? And it looks like it's a fairy this time."
It felt like those eyes pierced Shirou's heart. Something was very wrong.
"Scatc-"
"And it speaks!" She interrupted him, pointing her weapon at his chest. "Truly, this day is full of surprises."
Her spear was shaking, the tip wavering. She was injured, with several cuts on her arms and legs, blood dripping from her armor.
Why was she pretending not to know him?
"Scathach, plea-"
"Ansuz." She intoned, and a burning sigil flashed in the air where the tip of her spear had traced it seconds earlier.
A tide of flames erupted from the rune, washing over the battlefield and burning everything in its patch. Shirou stood in place, lips pressed into a flat line. He let the spell consume him, the flames breaking on him like water on rocks, barely hot enough to feel. He kept looking at Scathach. She knew it was pointless to use fire against him, and she wasn't stupid. As much as it surprised him that she could use magecraft, he was sure she could do something that could actually harm him.
Her aura was full of anger and bitter pain.
When the spell ended, he could see the same in her eyes. She glared at him, but her weapon was lowered. He could see her injuries mending before his eyes.
"Scathach."
She didn't interrupt him this time, but it took her a few seconds to respond.
"…Teacher."
The conversation halted after just those words. This wasn't the happy reunion Shirou hoped for, but he knew from the start that it would be hard. Yet, this distance, this invisible wall, was not what he expected, and it hurt all the more.
"…why now, Teacher?" She asked, a pleading tone in her voice. "Why… why not five years ago? Three would be enough…."
Shirou flinched at the pain in her voice. She looked at him with searching eyes, and he wasn't sure he had the answer she wanted.
He gulped, "I'm sorry, Scathach. I tried, but… I couldn't return earlier."
She hung her head, her hair shadowing her eyes.
"…that's it?" She whispered. "'You tried?'"
"Scatc-"
"You weren't there!" She erupted, anger twisting her features. "When I needed you the most, you weren't there, Teacher! At first, it was fine. 'I can take care of myself, of my people,' I said to myself. But they just keep coming. More and more, like an endless tide of bodies. No matter how much we killed. Skye couldn't hold them off endlessly. But I knew you were out there somewhere, that you would protect me if it got too bad…." She paused, looking him in the eyes, " …but you didn't. Ten years was too long after all, Teacher."
Shirou averted his eyes, looking over the battlefield. He focused on the corpses, on the discarded weapons. Anything to keep his mind occupied. It felt like he was holding his breath, and if he exhaled, he would break.
"… was it Aife?"
"Aife?" She asked incredulously before bursting into laughter. "You think that stupid girl could do all this? No, it wasn't my sister. We are allies now, actually. Most of the north is. Those are barbarians from the south." She kicked one of the charred corpses. "They invaded not long after Aife declared her pointless war. They destroyed everything in their patch, raping and pillaging the lands. This is just the latest weave; it will take some time before they regroup. We will have another few months of peace if we are lucky."
"I thought they were peaceful."
"They are barbarians." Scathach shrugged like it explained everything. "Who knows how they think. Maybe they just got bored of staying in their huts, or it's some kind of sick game to them."
They weren't that different from any other humans he saw, Shirou thought, but he didn't voice his opinion.
"How did you learn magecraft?" He asked to keep the conversation going, but it looked like this was the wrong question.
Scathach closed her eyes, a shadow passing over her aura. No, not just her aura. Shirou looked deeper, tracing the shadowy tendrils coiling around his student. He didn't notice it earlier; the battlefield suffused with negative emotions, but Scathach was somehow tied to it.
"… I did what I had to do to save my people."
"…"
"What?" She asked when she noticed Shirou's gaze, anger returning to her voice. "You think I wanted this?" She gestured at the pooling shadows. Not shadows cast by light, but something … different. "That I let myself get chained for some petty little magic? I did it to save Skye, Teacher. All of it."
He looked past her anger, past her pain. Underneath it all was desperation. To save her people. To save herself. The other side of determination that had always underlaid her aura. She carried weight too great for too long, at too young an age, and she could no longer set it aside.
If he only was there for her.
He couldn't turn back time, but at least he could do something now. Coming to a decision, Shirou walked toward her, a sad look in his eyes.
"Scatc-"
"Don't!" She shouted, seeing something in his set expression. "D-Don't pity me, Teacher!" She backed off, shaking her head rapidly.
He didn't stop. Even when Scathach tripped and fell on her backside, landing on bloody mud. She kept repeating 'don't' and shielding herself from his sight, but he kept walking. He embraced her when he reached her, patting her back gently. She tried to push him away weakly but soon stopped to struggle.
"There, there. I'm here now, Scathach."
She leaned into him, shaking slightly. They sat like that for a few minutes before parting. Scathach was still sitting, uncaring of the filth. She was looking up at Shirou, her expression calm, yet tears streamed down her face.
"… I tried to reach you, Teacher. When things got bad. I searched for other fae, asking them to bring you a message. But some of the few I found didn't know you, and those that did, didn't care. I begged and begged, but it was in vain. At night I prayed, hoping that you could hear me somehow. But you didn't, and … something else did. It offered me a deal – a power to push my enemies back in exchange for guarding the Gate of Shadows." She paused. "I … you promised, Teacher."
He promised. And now that promise was broken. For her, it was years ago; for Shirou, it was now. It didn't matter.
"… I'm sorry. I really couldn't return sooner."
"I know, but … you promised. You said it would be ten years, and despite knowing that, it still hurt. It was like something I always knew turned out to be false. A fundamental part of the world becoming a lie."
Shirou listened patiently, each word like knives carving into his heart. It wasn't just Scathach. He broke his promise, and his very nature enacted its price. He could feel his magic lash out, making him bleed power. Not magical energy, but something else, something more fundamental. He would be weakened for some time.
He didn't care about that.
His student disappointment hurt much more. He didn't try to defend himself. Fairy promise didn't care about such details. Dienu's words echoed in the back of his mind. She told him his promise would also affect Scathach, but he underestimated just how much.
It took three more years for the war to be over for good.
More battles followed, but never again the size of the one he saw on his return. Skye had to repel a ship or two occasionally, but large armies never assaulted the isle again. It was thanks to his student reputation in part. She became known as a death sentence to anyone foolish enough to assault her territory, and as bloodthirsty as the invaders were, they still possessed some sense of self-preservation.
Scathach then took part in battles on the mainland alongside her sister and other northern kings, further reinforcing her fame. Many heroes emerged during that conflict, yet her name was the most well-known. She became a legend before she turned thirty, an icon to her people.
Shirou supported her as much as he could, always by her side, yet he was reluctant to attack the invaders without cause. His student considered them barbarians, monsters not deserving of pity or mercy, and her peers thought alike. But to him, they were just humans, the same as any other. It's not like he refused to kill them, many lost their lives at his hands, but he didn't go out of his way to pursue them. He intervened whenever he saw them raid and pillage, cutting every warrior without mercy. In battle, he killed all unlucky enough to cross his path. He limited himself to fighting like a regular human, with a simple sword in hand, but there were still a few moments where he had to let loose and unleash his true power.
Whenever Scathach was in danger, he tended to overreact. He knew she could take care of herself; she was a peerless spearmaster, after all, but he couldn't help it. He refused to fail her again, and as a result, rumors started to spread. 'The Beast of Skye,' they called him, 'Shadow of Fire,' for he left battlefields filled with charred corpses, yet rarely was there a witness to see the act. Soldiers kept their distance from him. In contrast to his student, he was more feared than respected.
In the end, the invaders didn't gain anything. Lands between south and north, ravaged by more than a decade of war, lay empty. The people who once lived there either died or left altogether, and it would be long before they returned. Scars of the war would take generations to fade, and the grudges and animosity between both sides would fester for centuries more, Shirou was sure.
When everything was over, many things changed. And not always for the better.
At thirty, Scathach was a mature woman, a formidable warrior, and a beloved queen. Yet, he felt like she had lost something precious. The girl he watched grow up was still there, but strife tempered her. She smiled more, but something was always missing from her smiles, as if she was holding herself back, a shadow behind her eyes that refused to leave.
Things got better between them, but it wasn't the same. The unwavering trust she had in him before was gone, creating a gap that hurt him every time he noticed it. The backlash of his broken promise hurt them both, and he feared it would never change. Outwardly, things returned to how they were, but Scathach relied on him less, only asking for help when all other options were exhausted. He would like to say she simply grew up and didn't want to burden him, but he knew it would be a lie.
Scathach mastered her magecraft and could actually give him a challenge in their spars. Her magical runes allowed her for a variety of effects, far eclipsing anything he could do with his own meager skills in the craft. Together with her skill with the spear, she was a warrior without equal. Shirou honestly couldn't imagine someone stronger than her who was still a pure human.
He still wasn't exactly sure what pact she accepted for her magecraft. Scathach refused to talk about it, and he didn't want to push her. All he knew was that she received a number of powerful runes in exchange for guarding the 'Gate of Shadows', whatever that was. He was pretty sure it wasn't an actual, physical gate but something that was outside of the World. And that it had something to do with 'shadows' that he noticed across Skye, visible only in his Fairy Eyes. They mostly tended to accumulate in places of death, old battlefields and graveyards. They just … were there. Pooling in deep crevices and dark places, ominous but benign. Humans couldn't see them, but they caused a feeling of unease in high concentrations, driving people away.
But maybe he was mistaken. Skye was different now, after all. The land was soaked in blood and misery. Thirteen years of war saw tens of thousands of humans die there, affecting the isle in more ways than visible to the human eye. The very mana in the air was poisoned with lingering curses and resentment, the result of countless warriors dying in pain. Even nature wasn't spared. Forests were cut down for the war effort, rivers and earth poisoned with blood, and wildlife was hunted to extinction by starving civilians.
Especially around Scathach castle. It stood close to the mainland, overseeing the easiest entry points to the isle, and as a result, it was a priority for anyone who wanted to take those lands. Most of the battles on Skye were fought there. It spared the rest of Scathach's territory, but at a price.
The town at the foot of the castle was a shadow of its former self, with barely enough residents to count as a village. Those that didn't die in the war fled, leaving behind a ghost of a town: rotting buildings and empty streets.
Things were getting better slowly, but it would be long before they returned to the state before the war.
"Lady Scathach, please!"
A young man was kneeling before Scathach, desperation on his young face as he begged. He had a small bag in his hand filled with coins and was trying to give it to the woman. Behind him were a couple of guards with sheepish expressions avoiding Scathach eyes.
Judging by his student's aura, she wasn't amused at all.
Shirou, on the other hand, could barely contain his snickers. He was sitting on a stone bench, munching on an apple pastry, a rare occasion when he indulged himself in delicious food. He watched the whole situation unfold for a few minutes now, since the young man walked up to Scathach as she instructed her guards, his face set in a grave expression.
At first, he thought it was another messenger or a servant of a visiting noble, and Scathach's probably thought so too, as she regarded the man with a severe face.
Yet when he was close enough, the man immediately fell to his knees, causing his student to take a step back in surprise.
"Please, Lady Scathach," he begged, "Please, take me as your student!"
Scathach's aura was full of exasperated irritation by now, only feeding Shirou's amusement. This was the fifth warrior this month that arrived at her castle with the same request.
Two years after the war ended, Scathach's fame spread far and wide, attracting a … certain kind of attention. She was known as a master of the spear, a warrior without equal, and so, many a young man sought her for tutelage. They came from seemingly everywhere, some even from Ireland. Not south, though. There she was probably known as a demon. At first, she took everyone in, secretly flattered and proud of herself, but soon the number of hopeful students grew a bit ridiculous. If she accepted them all, there would be no room in her castle and the town below to house them in a few years.
"And why should I, boy? There are hundreds of others like you; what makes you so special?"
The man hesitated, caught off-guard by the question. Shirou wondered how he was expecting this to go, exactly.
"…umm, I can pay you, Lady Scathach. I have gold." He said, showing his small sack bag.
"Oh? Gold, you say? Enough to sway the Queen of Skye?"
"That is … um, I can…" The man lowered his hand, his expression uncertain. Clearly, this wasn't what he expected. "…I can, um… cook?"
Scathach lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, eyeing the now-blushing man.
"…cook?"
"Yes!" It seemed like he decided to stick with his word despite his embarrassment. "I'm an excellent cook, Lady Scathach. The best, even. If you take me as a student, I promise to make you the best meals of your life."
At this, Shirou couldn't hold it anymore. He burst out laughing, drawing the attention of the small gathering. The man uncertain look, and his student irritated one. Scathach kicked up a small pebble before smacking it with her spear. The stone cut through the air with a sharp whistle before pinging off Shirou's forehead.
"You be quiet," Scathach said, pointing her spear at her teacher.
"Ow…" Shirou rubbed at his forehead but stopped laughing, muttering about violent women under his nose.
Scathach glared at the kneeling man for a few seconds before sighing.
"Fine. But you better not have lied, Mr. Cook."
"Of course, Lady Scathach. Thank you!"
The man left with the guards, now all smiles, his aura blazing with victory. Was it really such a big deal?
His student joined Shirou on his bench, an air of exhaustion about her. She looked at the various training warriors scattered around her castle courtyard. Some were her guards and soldiers, but many were her new kind of students—foreigners she took in.
She sighed. "Another one."
"You can always say no, Scathach."
"Or you could just help me train them, Teacher."
"They come here for you, and you are as good as me now, so it's not like I can teach them any better. Besides, I do help you. I spar with your students sometimes."
Scathach snorted. "Heh, I wouldn't call what you do a 'spar'. More like a brutal beatdown."
"Well, it works. Uh, sometimes. When their bones mend, at least."
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the busy life of Scathach castle, occasionally commenting on the skill of one warrior or another. Some were sparring, and some were just training. Almost all wielded spears, the weapon Scathach was known for. His student could use other types, but she wasn't as skilled with them. Still, some lessons were the same, no matter what weapon you used.
"Do you really think so?" Scathach asked after a while.
"Hm? About what?"
"That I'm as good with a spear as you are, Teacher."
Shirou didn't answer immediately, observing his student from the corner of his eye. She appeared relaxed, still idly looking ahead, but her aura told a different story. She was nervous, apprehension and hope bubbling in her aura together with a slew of other contradicting emotions in a mix he didn't even try to decipher. It was obvious his answer was important to her, more than he could understand.
"… I do." He told the truth. "Better, even. You are talented, Scathach. Much more than I am."
"… I see. Thank you, Teacher."
He nodded, his smile a mirror of his student. In moments like this, he felt like he never left, and the divide between them didn't exist. Shirou cherished these times, basking in Scathach's radiant aura.
Yet, he knew it wouldn't last.
He tried to keep those thought away, but it was impossible. Five years had passed already. Half of his time with Scathach was gone in a blink of an eye. Yet, whenever he felt things were getting better, that knowledge intruded on his thoughts, casting a shadow over everything. He could almost feel a phantom pull of Faery, despite knowing it would be another five years before it started.
This time, he feared his departure even more.
Five years later, Shirou wondered how many times more it would repeat.
He watched as a carcass of a giant sea monster slowly bled dark ichor into the weaves. He didn't know what type of Phantasmal Beast this was, nor did he care. It attacked a few fishing villages in Skye before someone sent a message to Scathach. The Queen of Skye called on a small army and marched to face the beast, Shirou obviously following after her. When they found it, Scathach told her men to keep their distance and confronted the monster on her own.
The battle lasted for two hours, destroying a part of the shoreline before Scathach managed to kill it; its corpse beached itself later.
Shirou watched the fight from the sidelines, not blinking even once. His hands closed on the handles of weapons that weren't there, his body Reinforced to capacity, ready to leap into action on a moment's notice. Scathach asked him not to intervene, to let her handle it alone. He agreed but was cursing himself for it the entire fight. Each time his student took a hit, he winced, holding himself in place with gritted teeth. He trusted his student and knew she was an extremely powerful fighter, yet he still couldn't help but see the little girl that followed him through Ireland in her. He couldn't help but worry.
It didn't help that the situation was uncomfortably familiar.
A message about a large threat? Right before he had to leave? He felt his heart stop when he heard it for the first time and begged Scathach to let him take care of it. Of course, she refused, determined to protect her lands with her own hands.
Now, she was poking the dead best with her spear, curiosity coloring her aura. Her wounds were already healed, a benefit of her magecraft. Shirou wasn't sure if mages lived longer than regular humans, but Scathach definitively was aging slower. At thirty-seven, she still looked like a woman in her late twenties, with not a single grey hair or wrinkle. He supposed it was in part caused by his blessing, but he couldn't be sure.
Yet, he couldn't help but frown when he thought about Scathach age, despite her seemingly better-than-normal longevity.
How many more times will he be able to return to her? How long until he returns only to find her dead, lost to injury or old age? The closer his time of departure got, the more these types of questions clawed at his mind.
He walked up to her as she tried to cut away a part of the beast's skull, a long horn-like spike. When it finally detached, it almost fell on top of her head, startling her. She picked it up, examining the long piece of bone, before noticing him.
"Teacher, do you think you could make a spear out of this? This beast was pretty durable."
Shirou looked at the piece of ivory, but his face was skeptical.
"Scathach, I'm a blacksmith, not a bonecarver."
"…hmm, maybe I could engrave some runes on it?" She asked herself, tilting her head.
Those bones were interesting, he had to admit, but he wasn't an expert. They seemed to contain a large amount of lingering magical energy and were glowing with inherent power in his Fairy Eyes. The beast used strange abilities during the fight, attacking from unexpected angles and withstanding more damage than it should, and its body probably retained some of that.
Still, Scathach seemed oddly enthusiastic about making a spear out of the beast's remains. Maybe the fight was more annoying than it looked from afar, and this was some kind of revenge for her.
Shirou sighed. "Give me a few pieces, and I will try doing something with them in Nibelung."
It took them a few minutes to harvest suitable bones without rendering them useless, and Shirou ended up with a bundle of long ribs and pieces of skull. Scathach's army helped a little, but the soldiers were more concerned with ensuring the body didn't poison the sea, although it would take them a few days to take it apart. Instead of calling and waiting for workers, Scathach decided to camp there and let her army do the work.
Late in the evening, Shirou went to her tent, his bundle of bones in hand.
"Teacher?" She asked at his unexpected visit, raising her head from her candle-lit desk.
Shirou remained silent for a moment, struggling to find the right words. He decided not to resist the pull of Faery this time, to leave before anything more happened. It was selfish of him, but he wasn't sure if he could last ten years in Nibelung knowing that Scathach was involved in another conflict. The sea beast seemed to be a one-off thing, thankfully.
"…Scathach, I'm leaving." He said simply in the end.
Her lips turned down at the words, and she put her quill down, her aura dimming.
"…it's about time, isn't it? Will it be another ten years?"
He nodded. "Probably."
The silence between them stretched, full of unsaid words. Ten years passed, and now it felt like the distance between them, which was shrinking all that time, seemed back to how it was the day he returned. His promise was broken; nothing bound them together anymore, and that knowledge hurt, the wound still raw, even after a decade. He wanted to say she didn't need his protection anymore, but it wasn't about that for some time now. It was the manifestation of their bond, their connection.
And Shirou yearned for it, missed it. He wanted to fill the void it left, even if it meant risking getting hurt again.
"Scathach," he said, "I pro-"
"Don't!" She shouted, interrupting him.
"…"
She flinched when she saw his widened eyes and hurt expression. "I … You don't need to protect me anymore," She said, forcing on a trembling smile. "I'm not a child anymore, Teacher, so…."
Shirou stared at her, her words ringing in his ears. His mouth opened and closed, but words failed him. He clutched his bundle of bones like a lifeline, his feet sliding slightly on the floor as the world seemed to tilt. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his calm, before donning a similarly fake smile. An ugly twist of lips like the one his student wore that both knew was fake, yet pretended was fine anyway.
"You are right, you … are a big girl now, Scathach. I…"
She nodded shakily, "I am, so it's fine, Teacher. I can't rely on you for the rest of my life, so … you don't have to hurry so much. Take your time. I'll always be here."
Shirou nodded, his movements stiff. He wanted to be gone. He needed to be gone.
"Goodbye, Scathach."
"Goodbye, Teacher."
He grasped his connection with Faery, his promise with Bihev, and filled it with magical energy as fast as he could, forcing it to teleport him away, his form fading into motes of golden light.
The last thing he saw was Scathach smile crumbling and tears spilling from her eyes.
Back in Nibelung, he appeared in a swirl of golden particles right in the middle of his forge.
The bundle of bones fell from his hands, spilling all over the small room. He gently touched the cold surface of his anvil, his face slack, even when tears streamed from his eyes. A small pillar of rock with a flat tip, growing out of the mountain itself, stronger than any metal, reinforced with the magic of Faery. A piece of Nibelung's very heart worked into physical form. His workplace for hundreds of years.
A snarl twisted Shirou's face, and a spiderweb of cracks spread throughout the anvil.
AN
Next time: Chapter 9 – Nibelung.
Last chapter of Scathach's arc, where she doesn't appear even once. So, uh, is it still her arc? Who knows!