"Are we ready to go?" Ike asked in a low voice.
"We should be," Soren murmured. Just then the bushes behind them rustled, and Ranulf slid to a halt beside them.
"All set," he reported, his tail twitching with excitement. "They should be headed off in the next ten seconds or so…"
Leonardo let out a quiet breath and flexed his fingers around his bow. He already had an arrow on the string, of course — it had been there for half an hour, ever since the group had settled into this position to wait. Finally, the enemy's supply train was coming into sight, and it was time.
The young marksman glanced around at his comrades. Micaiah was there, with Sothe by her side — really, that didn't even need mentioning. Tormod stood with them as well, his fire-colored cloak dimmed in the shadows under the trees. Nolan, Ilyana, and Zihark were on the other side of the rough path with the other group; Jill was up in the air, shrouded in the low-hanging mist with the birds and Haar, ready to swoop down on the supply train. And Edward was next to Leonardo, his fingers tapping nervously on the hilt of his sword. That was it for the old Dawn Brigade and Liberation Army — the first people Leonardo had ever fought with.
Edward nudged his arm. "Here they come," he muttered.
Leonardo took a deep breath and stepped up beside Tormod. He drew back his bowstring and nodded to the sage. Tormod carefully touched the end of the arrow and muttered a spell, setting the arrow alight. Leonardo held back a wince as the flames licked at his fingers — then he released the burning arrow, knowing instinctively that the shot was good. He heard, because he was listening for it, two simultaneous twangs of other bowstrings from across the path.
Three tiny comets streaked through the sky, almost lost against the bright sky. Then they fell, and made their presence known.
"Fire!"
"The wagons are on fire!"
"We're under—"
The shriek of a hawk drowned the shouting as a massive green bird tore through the mist, raking his talons forward. A midnight-black raven, two brown hawks, two white pegasi, and two bright dragons followed the Bird King, striking at points along the caravan and causing immediate havoc.
"Go!" Ike called, and the warriors in the bushes sprang out into the action. Leonardo remained where he was, on the edge of the forest, sending five more flaming arrows onto the canvas-covered wagons. Then Tormod ran off into the fight, and Leonardo slung his bow over his shoulders. Panting, he scrambled up a tree he had selected earlier, climbing high enough into the branches to get a full view of the battle below. He glanced down once at the ground, seeing Edward in place at the base of his tree, before he reached for a new arrow and began firing down at the Ketaran soldiers.
Killing was something that Leonardo had mixed reactions to. Right now, in the middle of a battle, fighting for his friends and his country, his hands were steady, his breathing even, his aim flawless. Every Ketaran he targeted went down after one or two shots, occasionally three — but they all went down and never moved again. For now, Leonardo didn't care. As soon as one soldier fell, he was searching for another target. He searched for anyone who could do the Alliance fighters damage — a mage coming up on Nolan's blind side, a swordsman running toward Micaiah, an archer taking aim at Elincia. A few times he shot down enemies heading toward Edward, but the brown-haired trueblade seemed to be holding his own just fine.
Every arrow he fired would come back to haunt him. But now he just kept going, kept drawing and firing and killing, because this was what he could do for his country. This was all he could do, so he just did it as well as he could.
…
The Queen of Crimea dove again, her sword flashed again, a soldier fell again. Amiti's blade and Locan's white wings were smeared with red blood. The Queen of Crimea flattened herself against her pegasus' neck as an arrow whizzed over her head; she turned toward the offending archer, and cut him down with two swift strikes. She swooped over the battlefield, through fire and ashes and steel, wreaking havoc from the sky. The invaders fell or fled before her, the Queen of Crimea, wielding the sacred blade of her House. She was one in a long line of defenders of her beloved country. She would not be the first to succeed — and she had sworn to herself that she would not be the last to fail.
At last the caravan lay in ruin. The pegasus' hooves touched down to the ground, his sides heaving with the effort expended in the last hours. His rider gasped for breath as well — she looked down at the bloody sword in her hand, at the smoldering fires and bodies laying like puppets with their strings cut, and Elincia put her face in her hands and cried.
Author's note: This chapter, especially Elincia's short part, was written to Hands Held High, by Linkin Park. The lyrics themselves are not all strictly applicable to Tellius itself, but the feeling of it is. Also, it put me in kind of a restless and depressed mood, so I decided to add Elincia's bit. She hates the fighting but she can't avoid it, for the sake of her country.
Wow, didn't really mean to go all depressing there — but honestly, it is a war story. People deal with it in different ways. So maybe if I keep going with this depressing and kind of war-like playlist that I've put together, I'll update more often. Thanks to all you guys who reviewed, especially NiRvAnAaDvAnCiNg95, and everybody who still reads.