Chapter Five

"Hello there, general! You're looking w– No actually you look terrible," Forde said, peering at him. "Is there something wrong, general?"

"No, Forde. I'm... fine." Seth barely managed to restrain himself from heaving a sigh. They asked him that day in and day out, and always he lied to their faces.

"Well in that case we'd better head on to the briefing. Wouldn't do to be late, would it?" They rarely pressed him, save Eirika who was forever worried for him, forever asking him if he was well, asking what troubled him. For this very reason, he tried to keep his distance save in the late evening before the battle when he insisted on being close to her no matter the circumstances... for every time, the gwyllgis came in twos or threes.

He greeted Kyle automatically as he entered the pavilion and gave his reply about the woods (he'd since shortened it) when asked. After that he stood through the briefing while he wracked his brain for something he might have missed. He had searched everywhere for the staff, asked all over camp for it. He had spent a solid two weeks of nights describing it to every soldier in their army, asking if anyone had seen it. None had. At least as far as he could get a reply. It had been difficult to speak to some of their younger female recruits who had stared at him with open admiration and become flushed and badly flustered when he had tried to speak to them.

"General, could you give us your thoughts on this matter?"

As he so often did, he gave his advice, and, as always, they settled on the same battle plan they had on the first day.

He had tried stealing the staff after Lute left the pavilion. He'd snapped it in half one time, burned it another, and had Knoll destroy it with magic on one occasion, all to no effect. He'd have considered it a false trail if only he could have located it after Dozla and Garcia's training session. When asked, they'd explained that when they'd heard the sounds of battle they had dropped the staff on the ground and gone running, weapons drawn. The notion that it could simply vanish troubled him immensely.

"I think we can adjourn," Ephraim announced. With a sigh, Seth strode out of the pavilion without a word to his companions. But once there, he knew not where to go. He had run out of ideas. There were no more avenues of investigation to pursue, only a dead end– or worse, an endless circle without escape. He'd have crawled into his tent and slept away the days were Eirika's life not at stake every time the day began once more. Her safety was the burden he had to bear, the stone he had to roll up the hill, only to watch it roll down to the bottom every time.

The soldiers came and went outside the war pavilion. In a fit of boredom, he had amused himself a few times by placing bets with Joshua that he could predict their actions. "And that one," Seth had said, pointing to a man leading a grey mare, "will stop to adjust his boot– his left boot." And so he did, only a moment later.

"All right. A silver if you can tell me what that one will do," Joshua had said, pointing to a woman with a quiver at her side.

"She'll stop and talk to a fellow with a faded green cloak." And as he said it, the young man in the cloak appeared and the two began to chat.

Joshua peered at him, incredulity obvious on his features. "If I didn't know your reputation, general, I'd think this was fixed. Or have you developed the gift of foresight?"

"Hindsight perhaps," Seth murmured.

"What was that?"

"Never mind."

"One more then," Joshua said. "Something you can't have fixed. A coin toss."

Seth nodded. "As you wish. Tails."

Joshua flipped the coin. It glinted in the evening light as it spun momentarily through the air and then landed safely in Joshua's palm. He opened his hand and... tails. "One more time," he said.

"Heads," Seth replied. He had gotten the second toss wrong the first time, much to Joshua's delight. After that it had been simple.

"Heads," Joshua muttered. "Well I'll be... Once more."

"My lord," Seth had said with a bow, "I'm afraid I must leave you... before Princess L'Arachel can berate us for indulging in an immoral, inexcusable pastime."

"Hey wait–"

"Joshua! I see you continue in your base practice." He had not enjoyed being on the receiving end of that lecture the first time around, though it had amused him to no end to watch her subsequently beat Joshua at his own game. L'Arachel luck had indeed been quite frightening, all the more so for that fact that, unlike himself, she was not using a trick– at least none that he was aware of.

And he was aware of most things now. As his comrades filed out of the war tent, he sighed as he remembered those brief instants of surprise, the moments that had pierced his shroud of ennui.

He set off at a fast walk before Eirika could hail him. It was best that he avoid her. Her closeness was too much to bear sometimes and his words, so oft repeated, felt false on his lips. He could manage it with the others, but with her, the rehearsed lines were like sand on his tongue.

Company would have been more than welcome, a companion in this ordeal, someone to talk to openly, one who would surprise him every day. He had never realized how important novelty was, nor companionship. It was painful to walk the rows of tents at night and hear the sounds, drifting from some of these, that left him aching and frustrated. Some members of their troop were reliving a pleasant day indeed. He'd have given anything for their bliss-steeped ignorance. Eirika and he had only pain and struggle and awkwardness to greet them every evening.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon Seth sounded the alarm and had their camp prepare for battle. He opted to stay on foot; thus far he'd had the most ease protecting Eirika when they were booth afoot. As they stood at the ready on the western edge of camp, his eyes drifted to the dying trees ahead. Their ochre leaves were aflame in the dusky light and their branches writhed in the breeze.

"Seth, I was thinking perhaps I should check on our second unit."

Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment. He could not afford to let her out of his sight, not after having seen the consequences of failure. "I'll accompany you if you wish, princess, but please, stay close to me."

"Seth, is there something–" The three-toned howl of a gwyllgi signalled the beginning of the attack.

The fighting was as furious as it had even been. Adrenalin pumped through the combatants' veins as they struggled– they believe anyway– for their lives. But Seth hacked at their foes with icy calm, knowing neither fear, nor excitement, nor battle fury. The only time fear ever thrilled through him was when he lost sight of Eirika for a moment, particularly in those minutes before the inevitable appearance of the of gwyllgis that seemed so bent on attacking her. They came at an odd angle from the woods, as if they were not part of the main attack force. But he had grown used to them now, their attacks a familiar, if sometimes unpredictable, dance.

Today he kept perfect pace with Eirika. Together they skewered a bael, hacking its limbs out from under it in record time. When a gargoyle swooped low they both ducked and arced their blades upwards at the same moment, connecting lightly but enough to throw the creature off balance and send it tumbling out of the air.

When the gwyllgis rushed towards them, they rolled away from the lead creature's scalding breath and leapt to their feet, she to the right, he to the left. The creature's outer heads looked in either direction and it froze in indecision as they both raced towards it, their blades alternately piercing the beast's side and slicing open one of its exposed necks.

They spun to face the other two gwyllgi. Seth darted to the right this time, she to the left, so they faced their foes one on one. He knew enough not to worry about her facing one beast; he had seen her take down two easily enough. It was only three that had managed to overwhelm her in the past... such as it was.

A few thrusts and parries and it was over– at least as far as Seth was concerned. She would be safe now. And yet, though what battle thrill remained in him ebbed away as the true danger passed once again, he remained fascinated by the synergy between them today. He had never before felt its like. As the second wave of demon spawned creatures came at them, it seemed as much as if she were matching his movements as the reverse.

The battle became like a dance in which they each in turn took the lead. Monsters fell before the joint force of their swords, and though they both grew breathless with exertion, neither slackened the pace, thrusting and retreating until, with a jolt of exaltation that thrilled through his veins as never before, making him feel more alive than he had since that first day, the final foe was slain on their blades and, all at once, it was over. Panting for breath, he looked away from the stillness of the battlefield to his princess. How dazzling she was in the last rays of sunlight even as her chest heaved for breath and her cheeks remained flushed.

But it was over now.

For a moment she'd reminded him of what it was to be alive once more, to feel connected to another person, and the sudden loss of that ripped through him like a frothy breaker on a crumbling shoreline. He felt all his joy, all his hope wash away like a retreating wave. His armour had become too heavy to bear and every breath required an effort as if he had been pulled under the surface of the sea and was trying to breath its turbid waters.

Without a word, Seth turned on his heel and marched towards camp. His purpose had come to an end for now. He would rest. He would go to sleep. In the morning– evening– it would be easier again. He would settle back into that soul-snuffing ennui where he would be blanketed from this sudden despair.

In the gathering darkness he let his sword fall to the earth. Why bother to clean it when it would be restored shortly? He tore at the straps of his breast plate as he made his way to his tent. When he reached it, he ducked inside and threw off his armour, tossing it into the corner. Once, such behaviour would have horrified him, but now...

Seth sank down to the floor of his tent. He rested his arms on his knees and then bowed his head onto them and remained that way as what light still crept through his tent flap died away completely and left him in darkness.

That was the state in which Eirika found him.

"Seth?" He did not stir at the sound of her voice outside his tent. If he remained silent surely she would go away as she had before. To his dishonour he had, on past days, pretended to be asleep in order to avoid her.

"Seth, are you all right?" He heard a rustling as she pulled back the tent flap, but he could not bring himself to look up or to once again speak the lie that he was fine. "Seth, what's wrong?" she said urgently, approaching him. It was with a dull sort of surprise that he registered that she'd entered his tent. She had never done so before; it would be considered highly improper and gossip began so easily in a camp such as this one.

He raised his head to look at her and, in what little light there was, saw the distress on her features. His eyes then wandered to the blade clasped in her hand– his blade. "You dropped your sword. Seth," she said, squatting down on the ground across from him, "that isn't like you. Are you hurt?"

"No, my lady," he managed, though his voice was oddly hoarse. He had reached his end. He could not endure this any more. He would go mad, he was certain of it. To have life once again for an instant and then to have it snatched away to be replaced by this mockery of it... it was too much to bear. But he had to protect her, he could not leave her to...

He shuddered and looked away once again.

"Seth," she said, a quaver in her voice now, "you're frightening me. Tell me what's wrong."

"You'll think me mad."

"Tell me anyway," she whispered as she settled herself on the floor before him.

"It's... difficult to explain."

"Then take your time," she said and reached for a nearby lantern. She lit it and the tent was bathed in a gentle glow. After that she poured some water into his washbasin and passed him a dampened washcloth to clean the gore from the battle off his face.

He took the cloth and scrubbed absently as she reached for another and did the same. This had never happened before and all at once he found himself at loss for words. She was more dishevelled than ever; she must have gone looking for him right after the battle's end. He could not lie to her, not tonight as he remembered that moment of perfect connection between them, even if it had been only in his own mind.

"My lady," he began finally, "I am trapped in a prison, one made neither of stone nor of iron bars, but of time itself."

Her brow was crinkled. "I don't understand."

"This evening– some eleven hours to be precise– has been repeating itself over and over and I remain the only one with any memory of it."

His reply left her speechless and the way she stared at him made him feel certain that she believed he'd lost his senses. And he could hardly blame her.

"Pull back the tent flap," he said.

She peered at him quizzically but did as he asked. Lantern light illuminated the aisle in front of his tent's entrance and he watched the passing faces until he found a point of reference. After a minute or so he spoke. "In a few moments Cormag will walk by. He'll stop as his wyvern sneezes on him and he'll tell the wyvern, Genarog, what a great dirty brute he is."

"Wha–"

But at that very moment, Cormag appeared, leading his wyvern. Eirika stared, jaw agape, as the wyvern suddenly sneezed, droplets shining in the light as they whizzed through the air and spattered Cormag. "Genarog!" he said, spinning to face his mount. "Have some manners, you great dirty brute." The wyvern huffed at Cormag who rolled his eyes and went on his way.

The tent flap fell from Eirika's hands as she turned to stare at Seth. "How did you know that? You couldn't have..."

"In another minute you'll hear the whinny of a pegasus from behind us."

They sat in utter silence while the sounds of footfalls and the chatter of camp drifted around them. Eirika started as she heard the high pitch neigh of a pegasus just as he had said.

"Do you believe me, princess?" he asked dully.

"I... I don't know what to think. Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning."

And so he told her of how they'd been attacked that first day and then how suddenly it had all begun again, and again, and again, how he was the only one to have any awareness of events. He told her about the gwyllgis and the staff that went missing every night, and how nothing he did seemed to have any effect.

The lantern had dimmed to almost nothing as he'd told his tale, and neither paused to relight it. "It begins again every day," he told her. "I don't even know how long it's been now. The suns sets every night and it never rises."

"You said that the first day you were struck by a gwyllgi's fire. And then?"

"And then nothing. I've been trapped in this purgatory ever since." He hung his head again. "Every day I save you, my lady, and every day you're in danger once again. And no matter what I do or how many times I try, nothing changes."

"Seth," she breathed, and the tenderness and pity in her voice cut through him like a sharpened blade. Head bent on his knees, he was surprised when he felt her fingers stroking his hair. She had slid closer to him, and, as he glanced up to look at her, her fingers moved to trail down his cheek. His arm shot up to capture that wandering hand, but her eyes had locked with his and he could not look away even as she leaned into him.

Her lips brushed over his and he froze.

This should not be happening. She was the princess. All this time he had striven to keep himself under rigid control. To have her here with him, in the darkness of his tent, kissing him– He should not– could not allow himself to–

It was her hesitation that broke his stupor, a hesitation born, he realized, not of indecision, but inexperience. She was the princess: She had never kissed a man, not like this. Realizing that, aware of this tremulous innocence that she would spend on him, he could not but hold her face in his hands and press his lips to hers, kissing her hungrily as he had in heated dreams and guilty imaginings, his beautiful, darling Eirika.

They parted for breath, foreheads leaning against one another. He squeezed his eyes shut. His heart was pounding, his nerves tingling wherever she touched him, and shame raced through his veins at how her closeness made him ache for her.

"Eirika," he managed, his voice hoarse.

"I'm so sorry, Seth," she whispered, embracing him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. It took his desire-fogged mind a moment to realize that she was sorry for his predicament and not the kiss.

Gingerly, he put his arms around her and stroked her hair. That seemed safe enough...

She murmured his name and he shivered as her lips brushed over his skin. "You should go," he whispered. "I'll be all right. I–"

"No." He tried to order his thoughts enough to find some way of explaining in delicate terms why she had to leave– now– but she stopped his lips with her own before he got so much as a word out.

She drew back, brushing wayward locks of hair out of her face to reveal wonderfully scarlet cheeks. "Seth..." she began hesitantly. "If there really is nothing else, if there's no tomorrow and this– if this is all we have..." And so there could be no doubt as to her meaning, as she leaned in to kiss him once again, her fingers began fumbling with the lacings of his shirt.

He broke away, snagging her trembling hands in his and looked into her flushed face. "Eirika, I will remember. And to have that kind of advantage over you would be–"

She slipped her hands out of his and pressed her fingers to his lips. "I'd forgive you even that."

He reached out to cup her face. She was so beautiful. It was difficult to think with her this close and it would be so easy to just...

He leaned in to kiss her once more but jerked back as a niggling doubt pierced his hazy thoughts. "What if I'm wrong?" he said urgently, clasping her by the shoulders. "What if this is all some madness on my part and the sun rises tomorrow after all?"

She smiled fondly and trailed her fingers down his cheek. "Then I'll wake with a smile."

And then he could resist no longer.