Nelgetha

Part two of a fanfiction by Velkyn Karma

Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, the Fire Emblem game series or any of its subsequent characters, plots or other ideas. That right belongs solely to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. The only thing here that's mine is the idea for the story.

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"Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me which nothing could extinguish."

--Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

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Consciousness crept upon Reyson slowly, but while he had struggled so hard to reclaim it earlier, he now found his new awareness unpleasant and unwanted. The dull throbbing that he suffered while encased in blackness was hateful enough, but the searing pain that ripped through him when he began to awaken was unbearable.

He fell still, and his mental activity dropped once again. After a long time, the ripping pain finally died down, replaced once more by the dull throbbing. Tentatively, the prince began to test his new awareness, slowly and in stages, so as not to antagonize the agony waiting like a predator for him.

His understanding expanded slowly, and after some time his groggy mind was able to force itself around the concept that he was on his side, laying on a hard and painful surface. It was dark; his eyes were closed. There were sounds, but for now, too complex to fold his mind around. He ignored them and focused entirely on the sensation of physical touch.

His mind reached out tentatively, slowly moved around his body, recognizing and checking carefully and systematically. He could feel both legs, both arms, and his wings; nothing had been lost. But with recognition he also tapped into the pain embedded in these limbs, and groaned softly as his new awareness threatened to overwhelm him. His right arm throbbed painfully, as did his right leg. His wings were the worst, however. Searing agony lanced through him when his mind touched at them, so strong that his stomach churned with the nausea. He groaned again and lay still, waiting for the horrible sensation in his abdomen to pass.

But at last he adjusted to the overwhelming sensations of pain, and was able to recognize fully that he was injured, and where. Successful in orienting himself, he rested, breathing heavily from the surprisingly complex problem of waking.

At last, after his strength had built up once more, he wrenched his eyes open slowly. He was met with dim light, but it still hurt his eyes, and he squinted them until he was able to adjust.

Forest. He recognized with hazy surprise that he was lying on the forest floor, and that he had a clear view of gnarled roots building into a sturdy tree just by his head. Blinking slowly, he connected his vision to his other senses, and realized that he was laying on a thick patch of roots as well.

The whisper of the forest song now entered his awareness slowly, and he blinked again tiredly. This was not his forest, but he could still hear the music, and it comforted him slightly. Still, the sound was garbled and warped, and he was barely able to interpret more than a few moments before the dull throbbing in his body would overwhelm him and break his concentration.

He paused, rested again while his senses came to term with his latest discoveries, and then he slowly began to shift. His movements were agonizing, and he paused several times with a groan; never had he thought sitting up could be so difficult a task. But at last he had raised himself to his knees, and leaning against the tree trunk heavily he panted, caught his breath, and began to examine his surroundings.

Above him, the tree limbs were ripped and torn, as though something had crashed through them to the ground below. Reyson grimaced, both in pain and understanding. From the white feathers snagged occasionally in the cracked branches, and his own feelings of physical torment, there was no doubt what that 'something' had been. The canopy closed above him protectively, cutting off a direct view to the sky, but the damage beneath the surface was heavily evident.

Hissing once more in pain, the heron prince shifted and began to look himself over, assessing his injuries. A broken arrow shaft still pierced his right shoulder; he had never removed the arrow after he had first been shot. He could feel another broken shaft in the back of his left shoulder as well, and recognized with sudden realization that the painful impact that had hit him from behind had been an arrow. His right leg throbbed dully as well, and he realized that he had probably landed on it badly in his fall, though it did not appear broken. He was lucky. While painful, such injuries could be dealt with.

But if these injuries seemed mild, the damage to both of his wings was extensive, and he felt despair flood him as he examined them. His left wing had been pierced, and the barb of an arrow was still lodged painfully within his feathers—this was probably the second impact he had felt. His right wing was far worse; the fragile limb had been damaged heavily in the fall through the trees, and hung limp, bent at an unnatural angle. Even the slightest movement of the appendage sent waves of nausea through him, and he grit his teeth in frustration at the wound. A damaged wing was not only inhibiting of movement, but insulting. No laguz used to the skies could bear to be forcefully separated from them, for any period of time.

He clutched at his stomach with a grimace as the pain passed through him again, and felt even more powerfully the hopelessness begin to settle on his shoulders. He was injured, and badly. He could not hope to heal himself—his galdr of blessing, while highly beneficial to his wounded allies, would not affect his own health in any way. And he was separated from his allies, alone in hostile territory, very near to a full army of bloodthirsty Daein humans. What hope could he possibly have?

His mind searched frantically, and presented him with an answer—weak, but with a soft glimmer of hope. He was in the forest, and so he was not completely lost. Even if this was not his own Serenes, the trees could direct him if he asked.

Feeling slightly comforted, Reyson sat back against the tree once more and rested, recovering what little energy he had. Closing his eyes, the heron prince allowed his exhaustion to wash over him once more, and passed into a weary, pain-filled sleep.

He awoke roughly an hour later, and stirred groggily once more, accidentally sending another sharp sensation through his mind. Grimacing slightly, Reyson snapped his eyes open again, feeling slightly more refreshed.

He needed a plan, he realized. It was essential that he return to Ike's mercenary army immediately, or he would risk succumbing to his wounds, and he refused to die like a slaughtered beast. He would not give Daein the satisfaction.

His glimmer of hope returned to him. The trees would help him, he was sure of it. Concentrating carefully, he opened his mind to the forest's song, listening carefully to its music.

It was hard, very hard; much harder than it should have been. Reyson found his concentration slipping away with the irregular beat of his injuries, calling to him with gleeful antagonism, drowning out the quiet voices of the trees. He could catch snatches of their song, could recognize the excited and frantic melodies of their natural voices, and hear the mournful dirge of the trees he had inadvertently injured. But these were only snatches, not complete understanding, and he felt his last chance slipping away from him.

Now desperate, the prince opened his mouth and tried to communicate with the forest through the language of Serenes. But even now his pain interfered, and he was only able to manage a few small words before he choked, doubled over with an overwhelming sensation of nausea.

Panic set in. He could not even communicate with this forest; he really was as good as lost. He would die, unable to escape, succumbing to his wounds. This was not how Reyson pictured his end...

No! His mind screamed at him sharply, overriding his panic. They will search for you. The eyes and ears of Tibarn will not stop moving until they locate you; and Ike will send out a search party. I have nothing to fear...I must simply hold on. That was all.

And he was not completely helpless, either, Reyson knew. He was not able to completely communicate with the trees, but they would still protect him if it was within their power, however slim. And if he moved, perhaps he would locate his allies faster. He was sure they were in a southwestern direction, and he could stumble that way as well as anyone with a little observation.

He would have to move, then. Reyson grimaced, already anticipating the punishment that he would receive for his trouble. But moving and trying to help himself was better than staying put and falling to despair, and so he resigned himself to the pain that would follow, and struggled to rise.

It took him ages, and he almost did not manage at all. Every time he moved his limbs would ache, scream in protest. Many times he collapsed against his will, breathing hard as he struggled to reorient himself, fighting off the darkness that threatened to overcome him many times. But at last he pulled himself to his feet, and leaning heavily against the trees he started off, moving in as much of a southwesterly direction as he could gauge from the tiny glimmers of the sun through the trees.

Movement was agonizing. Reyson's throbbing right leg did not want to take his weight, and he fought with himself for every step he took. His left wing was difficult to hold above ground level, and it was only with the greatest of willpower that he could keep it swept back in its usual upright position; his right wing was completely unresponsive and hung limp, dragging along the ground tortuously.

But he stumbled along, forcing himself to continue when he feared he could not. Something had taken hold of him, and he was afraid that if he stopped, he would not be able to continue, would not reach his allies and friends, would not escape this unfortunate predicament alive. He was desperate, and pushed himself onward, resting wearily against the sympathetic tree trunks when his legs began to tremble beneath him from the stress.

The prince was not sure how long he walked for, and the time flew by in a flurry of haziness and monotony. Indeed, he was hardly aware of his own surroundings or direction after hardly any time. Combating the pain of his wounds was difficult enough, and he could not spare his concentration to such matters. His direction began to veer, his thoughts wandered, his eyesight wavered.

He was aware rather suddenly of the impact as his body hit the ground, and noticed with a vague feeling of surprise that he had collapsed. He had not even realized he was falling, Reyson observed tiredly. Perhaps it was alright, though; he cold rest. Rest would not hurt him completely. His underlying fear of his inability to escape was smothered in the weary blackness that overtook him, and once more Reyson fell into a painful sleep.

The heron came to several hours later with a groan. His already injured limbs were growing stiff from disuse, and his broken wing throbbed more painfully than ever. He hissed, shifted, and weakly resisted the urge to vomit, though he was not sure how much longer he could fend off his nausea.

Up. He had to get up, get moving. The little voice in the back of his mind, the one that voiced his fears and anxieties, was pushing at him fretfully now that he had once more regained consciousness. He had to move, or he was going to die. Had to escape. Had to get free. Had to...

Reyson struggled, pushed with exhausted, pained limbs to get to his feet. His arms screamed with protest even as he felt the grating of the embedded shafts in his shoulders, and wondered feebly why he hadn't pulled them out yet. Something about blood, losing too much. Couldn't afford to. That was right...

He was shocked to find that he was suddenly on his hands and knees, and now struggled to gain his feet. His wings cried out now, objecting to their treatment, and the right one drooped in its painful awkward angle over his back. He had to do something about that...if it remained untreated for long it would set improperly, and he would never fly again.

The thought terrified him, and the resulting burst of strength pushed him to his feet. Help. He had to get back, to get help. The healers could fix him. Rhys' healing magic was powerful, surely he could mend a broken wing.

He was so preoccupied with his struggles that he did not recognize the soft snap nearby, or hear the warning chimes of the trees as they called to him. But as he leaned wearily against a particularly sturdy oak tree he became aware of the sudden, soft gasp not twenty paces from him. With a start he turned to locate the noise, grimacing terribly as another spark of pain swept through his broken wing.

His hopes rose at the noise. Perhaps the search party had found him. The voice had sounded a bit like Mist, and she was a healer...she could help him with this pain, and make it stop, ensure that he would fly again...

But his hopes shattered just as quickly as they were formed, and he stared in horrified surprise at the figure across from him. His vision was fuzzy from the pain, not as accurate as it could be; but there was no mistaking the young woman that stared at him with wide eyed surprise and recognition of his race. Nor was there any mistaking her alliance, for although she looked too young to be a soldier, the bow slung across her back looked lethal enough, and her clothes were clearly Daein.

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And chapter 2 is completed. Yay.

This is awfully short in comparison to what I usually write. But considering it was originally planned to be a one-shot, I suppose this makes sense.

I apologize for any misconceptions regarding Mist in the past chapter. I seem to have confused quite a few of you with simple bad wording. The problem has been remedied, so thanks for pointing it out (intentionally or no).

Special thanks to my betta, who made me finish editing this chapter. And no, I do not mean a reader; I mean the fish. His tank is on my desk and he wouldn't stop staring at me until this was posted. And people say fish are useless...hah!

As always, if you review, kindly give me a little more than "that's good" or "that's bad." I like to know what you liked or didn't like, what you think could be improved and what you thought was done well. It helps a lot. Thank you!

--Velkyn Karma