No Longer Alone


And here we are with chapter 35 of my story.

I hope you enjoy reading this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


Travelling to the border of Jehenna itself took nearly a week, and that was with them taking minimal stops, covering as much distance as they reasonably could. They travelled mostly at night so as to avoid the merciless heat of the sun, although this increased the chances of being ambushed due to the poorer visibility, Ephraim had deemed it an acceptable tradeoff for not tiring the men out – getting to Jehenna quickly took maximum priority.

It was at the border, during one of these rather infrequent breaks, that Amelia found herself looking for Franz yet again.

"You've heard about the new reports?" He nodded in response. Word tended to travel fast through the army.

"Two Grado generals, Caellach Tiger-Eye and Valter the Moonstone. Along with the greater part of their soldiers. The palace itself has fallen and the Queen killed – but there're still reports of fighting in the vicinity – Eirika and the crown prince of Jehenna have been leading a guerrilla movement, trying to tie the forces down. And, oh yeah, Prince Lyon has been spotted once in a while in the region." Franz sighed. "This is going to be a big fight."

"…It's funny. Before we stormed Grado castle, I was so sure that it would be the biggest fight of all, and that we'd end the war once and for all. But now… it's another battle. And I keep wondering when it'll all end."

"Well, even if they're scattered across the continent, Grado doesn't have infinite resources. Sooner or later they won't have enough to continue waging war, and they'll have to surrender."

"Sooner or later, huh." Amelia's smile was tired. "Even if the war ended tomorrow… the entire land's a shambles. How long until life goes back to normal again?"

Franz remained silent for a while. "If by 'normal' you mean what it was like before the war, then I don't think it'll ever go back to the way it was. At least, not for us."

"It feels funny how it's gone by so quickly, though." Amelia closed her eyes. "Where's the little girl that used to dream of becoming a knight in shining and fighting valiantly for her homeland? I miss her."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, and so Franz simply sat there in silence, at her side. And then there came the call for them to get back on the march.

"Well," he said softly, trying to sound encouraging. "Let's go."

"Yeah." Amelia nodded. "Let's."


Several days later, as Amelia staggered up the top of yet another sand dune, she wished fervently that she was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Aside from the fact that she was hot, sticky, and sweaty (which made a contrast to the freezing nights of the desert where she frequently huddled up inside the thickest cloak she had available shivering until she passed out from sheer exhaustion), which was how she usually felt coming out of a battle, not about to enter one, she was now gazing down upon another sea of soldiers in battle lines, crimson armour of Grado gleaming in the sun.

Wait, armour?

"Franz, why are they…?"She frowned. Something definitely wasn't right here.

"Yeah, I know." The worried look was on his face as well. "If they're able to continue wearing heavy armour out here in this desert, then something's definitely up. Probably some kind of magic spell – I don't know, you'll have to ask the scholars."

This meant that they'd be fighting at a disadvantage, of course. Amelia groaned. This just kept getting better and better.

"Form up the lines!" She heard the call from the army commanders and sharing a quick nod with Franz, they headed to their battle positions. Ephraim had decided that the sort of confrontation that involved two armies spreading out and advancing on each other wouldn't really work well here – partly because he wanted to reach Eirika as soon as was humanly possible, and partly because the longer the battle took, the more the men's strength would be sapped by the hostile environment. Indeed with so many of the men being unaccustomed to the desert climate, quite a few of them had already been rendered invalids for the foreseeable future, thus further depriving the army of much-needed men. This also led to the third part of the equation of the current battle plan – the fact that they were rather badly outnumbered.

Initial reports had placed the two generals at extreme opposite ends of the battlefield, with Caellach the Tiger-Eye holding the oases near the Jehenna Palace itself, the source of the water needed to keep the army intact in the desert. Valter the Moonstone, by contrast, was encamped near the fortress town of Negev, his Wyvern units able to strike fast and hard from that location. And Eirika was supposed to be holed up in the burnt-out husk of the Jehenna Palace, trying to hold out against the onslaught until help arrived.

"Three battle groups, three strikes." Ephraim had stated during the planning session. "One to recover the oases, one to liberate the town, and most importantly, one to recover Eirika. If we can get her and her group out of there, then we can regroup, retreat if need be, and plan our next move. Of course, if we seize either the oases or Negev, out position will be drastically improved – it'll give us a place to set up our own fortifications. As it is, we'll have to make do with the towns out here – and they're really not defensible under a sustained assault. We'll have to take the initiative."

And so it was that Amelia now found herself staring at an army group in the distance, her stomach deciding that it really wanted to be jumping around.

"I thought horses were supposed to increase your mobility?" She directed the rather pointed question at Franz as her mount stumbled for what appeared to be the fifth time in as many minutes. She was willing to attribute most of it to her being a pretty poor riding, what with her having only taken sporadic lessons ever since she hooked up with the Frelian Army, but even so… and she still didn't know why she'd been assigned one for this particular battle. They were supposed to help with the fighting, but she had the distinct feeling that it only applied to trained horsemen – like Franz, when it came down to it.

"They do – most of the time. If the sand's too loose, though…" Franz was guiding Neige along at enough of a pace to make her jealous, even if it was still far slower than the usual speed. "After a while you can spot where it's more tightly packed."

"Hmph." Amelia muttered under her breath as she tried to guide her own mount to follow in Franz's path. "I'm not even good with horses. Why are they giving me one now?"

"I don't know… maybe Lord Ephraim wants another mobile fighter. Don't worry too much – our horses are well trained so you shouldn't have too much difficulty." He frowned. "Well, in most other terrain anyway. Giving you one as we're about to enter a desert is pretty iffy."

"Tell me about it." She grumped as her horse stumbled again, and her frayed patience gave way. "You know what, this isn't worth it. I'm going to be spending more time fighting to stay seated than fighting any enemies as long as I'm on this thing. I'm sure you're a great warhorse, girl, and maybe we can try again after we leave this godforsaken desert, but right now, you're more hindrance than help."

Watching over his shoulder, Franz couldn't help but crack a smile as Amelia dismounted her steed rather clumsily, landing rather hard on the parched desert sands. She sighed and wiped away a coating of sand that had somehow accumulated on her arm. "Now that's over and done with-"

A plume of fire jetted out to their right, heralding the arrival of a party of mages. Whirling, Franz drew his blade, but just as he was about charge, he hesitated. The treacherous nature of the sand would leave him open to attacks from the mages if he charged, Amelia surmised – and rather distressingly, the mages didn't appear the least bit affected by the shifting sands, running across towards the strike force.

To his right, archers and their own mages were beginning to respond, arrows and spells tearing into the ranks of the mages, scattering the lightly armoured soldiers. Amelia's brow furrowed. Something wasn't right…

"Where's the backup? No commander in their right mind would send in a mage squad without any support?"

As if on cue, the air was pierced with the screech of wyverns and the army whirled around to see the pride of Grado's army descending upon them, their claws stretched out to seize and tear.

"Get ready." Franz said shortly to Amelia, who nodded and brought her lance upwards. Not that she was likely to be able to deal with any of the beasts as long as they continued to soar overhead, but maybe if one of them decided to land amongst the knights and if they remained focused on the other soldiers long enough for Amelia to get within attacking distance…

Yeah, that would be a pretty long shot.

Abruptly, she felt a slight tingling in the air around her and instinctively dived to the side an instant before the Flux spell manifested itself where she had been standing a moment a ago. She'd been around the shadowy practitioners of dark magic long enough to know what being in the vicinity of one of their spells felt like and as she rose to her feet again she caught sight of one of their number floating towards the army.

"I," She said as she hastily tried to brush off as much sand from her body as was reasonable. "Am really starting to get tired of druids."

"You too?" Franz remarked as he wheeled around to face the spellcaster. Diving Franz as the greater of the two immediate threats the druid raised his hands again, runes carving themselves in the air as it prepared to hurl another blast of elder magic.

"Oh no, you don't!" Amelia yelled as she charged forward to intercept the spellcaster, but abruptly a vortex seemed to form in the ground next to a druid, an armoured figure emerging from it. The newcomer quickly moved to intercept Amelia, moving with the same nimbleness across the sand as the mages. As it neared, Amelia noted with dismay that it was wielding an axe – and a sturdy one, at that. One good hit from it would be enough to shatter her own weapon like a twig.

The soldier – if that was the right word to use, there was a definite air of it being artificial, somehow – moved forward with a fluid grace, bringing it's heavy weapon up in a swing that forced Amelia to dodge to the side. Using the momentum of its initial attack, the soldier whirled around, its axe slashing horizontally to tear at her midsection. Again, Amelia was able to skip back in time, as she worked desperately to find an opening.

Narrowly avoiding another strike, she struck out at the enemy, not seeking to harm it in any significant way – the angle was all wrong for that anyway – but maybe to get it to back off a bit. The tip of her lance struck the side of her opponent's thigh, a thin scratch that most soldier's wouldn't even have noticed, but he – it? – screeched in response, a spurt of black vapour jetting out from where she'd marked it. A moment later the creature seemed to dissolve into the empty air in front of her eyes.

Blinking twice to get past the befuddlement, she cast a quick glance around to ascertain that the enemy soldier was no longer in the vicinity, and she resumed moving towards the druid, who was, for once, more manoeuvrable than the knight on horseback he was currently facing. However, as she neared the due, Franz managed to get a strike in on the mage's neck. There was a short spray of blood, and the spellcaster collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"You okay?" Franz glanced at her. "That… whatever it was?"

"Yeah – I'm fine. It vanished as soon as I scored a glancing blow on it."

He frowned. "I heard most summoned entities are really unstable when they get to our world. Maybe that's what-"

He was cut off by a loud screech heralding the arrival of another wave of wyverns, pouring out from Negev in fresh waves. Suddenly, Amelia realized that in a few short moments they had separated themselves from the rest of their army group, and would be an obvious target for wyverns to isolate and pick off.

"Come on." She said anxiously. "We should start heading back."

"Right." Franz confirmed, wheeling Neige around. Almost as soon as the words left his lips, a dark shape planted itself directly in front of the two of them.

"And what have we here?" Valter the Moonstone said softly, a cold smirk gracing his features. "Two lost little lambs, away from the flock?" The smirk widened into a nightmarish grin as his wyvern mount took a step forward. "The perfect appetizer to whet the hunger, wouldn't you say?"

As the two of them instinctively shifted their weapons into a defensive stance, he lunged, eyes alight with sadistic glee.


Later, Franz would be at a loss to describe the experience. While he had always known on an intellectual level that he was no match for a general of any of the nation's armies, let alone one of such a celebrated military as Grado's, to actually be facing down one of them in mortal combat was something he could not have realistically prepared himself for.

The Moonstone's lance came at him in a blur of steel, and instinctively Franz dodged – blocking the strike would only cause him to stumble, leaving him open to a follow-up attack. The wyvern rider quickly shifted again, stabbing downwards from his mount, missing Franz by a hair. Again.

He's playing with me. The cold worm of realization nestled itself in the cavalier's gut. He could gut me like a fish without trying, but he's holding back, letting me tire myself out first. He'd utter a curse of some sort, but he couldn't waste the breath – all his stamina was reserved for barely, just barely, keeping one step ahead of Valter's inhumanly precise strikes.

"Fra-" He heard Amelia's cry, but he was too focused on trying to defend himself to see what had happened. Another precise stab of the lance, and Franz finally thought he could see an opening. Urging Neige forward, he brought his sword up-

There was another flash of movement, the sound of sharpened steel tearing through flesh, and then Franz fell hard onto the sand, clutching at a bleeding midsection. His vision swam for a brief moment, clearing enough to see the Moonstone staring down at him.

"That's one." Valter's grin widened. "Now, as for the girl..." His mount veered to the side just as Amelia lunged forward with her lance, one of its leathery wings snapping forward to throw her to the ground.

No! Gritting his teeth and ignoring his body's screams of protest, Franz dragged himself to his feet, tightening the grip on his sword. I have to protect her!

Valter was waiting patiently as Amelia fought to stand upright, scrabbling against the loose sand. Just as she had managed to find good footing, he lunged again, the sharpened tip of his lance aimed at her heart. Instinctively she dodged to the side, but Valter had already anticipated the clumsy move. As she stumbled away, he swung his gauntleted fist in a low arc, catching her in the side of her head. Amelia was sent sprawling onto the burning sands, and this time she didn't get up.

"Bah." Valter's face grew annoyed. "These bloodless minnows can't slake my thirst. They can't offer me what I want! I'll just finish you off quickly, then. A beautiful patch of scarlet blood on the scorched land to mark your passing." Raising his eyes, he sneered at Franz as he raised his lance above the fallen soldier. "Oh, you're up. Do you think you can make it in time? Come on, boy. Run at me, swinging that pathetic little knife of yours. How close will you reach before I tear open her heart? Shall I leave you alive to watch as it pumps her precious blood onto the desert sands?"

Franz froze, weapon still held at the ready position, suddenly horribly aware that Amelia's life lay completely in the hands of the Grad general before him. He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm himself down, trying to formulate some sort of plan.

"What? Paralysed by fear? Well, let me help you make your decision!" Shifting the angle slightly, Valter raised his lance, ready to stab down-

And then a fireball slammed into the underside of the wyvern, causing it to screech and rear back. The lance blow thudded into the dirt as the general growled in anger.

"Franz!" Ewan ran up, hands already glowing in preparation for another spell. "Get Amelia out of there! I'll hold him off."

"What? No! You'll be killed!" As Valter fought to bring his mount back under control, Franz darted forward, crouching over Amelia to try to assess the extent of the damage she had received while keeping one eye on the Grad general.

"Don't argue! We don't have time for-"

"DIE!" Valter shrieked as he regained control, his face distorted with rage. Ignoring Franz and Amelia completely, his wyvern literally leapt over the pair, flaring its wings as Valter stabbed forward again.

CLANG!

"No." The reply was calm and firm as another lance came down hard, blocking Valter's attack from reaching Ewan.

Franz risked a quick glance upwards. Another wyvern? The newcomer's face was unfamiliar to him, but if he was opposing Valter…

"Cormag!" If anything, Valter's grin only grew wider, although there was a peculiar quality in that smile that held no trace of mirth. "And here I thought you'd died in Carcino's mountains. A turncoat instead, then? Tsk, tsk. Well, I suppose it's past time you joined your dear brother, anyway."

Franz barely understood anything of the conversation – right now most of his attention was focused on the unconscious Amelia, trying to carry her in his arms as he called Neige over. Through it all he resolutely ignored the fiery pain in his side – it was something to be dealt with later.

"Moonstone! I challenge you!" Franz glanced upwards. Sir Gilliam and Sir Garcia…! Both of them had their weapons drawn, and were standing alongside the newcomer wyvern rider, forming a small defensive formation around Ewan. As he watched, Sir Gilliam's eyes flickered briefly to Franz, his intent plain. Go. We will buy you time.

"Trying to buy time for the gallant knight to ride off with his distressed damsel, hm?" Valter laughed as Franz's heart fell. So he'd seen through it… "Very well. Ride away, little one." Valter shifted his gaze to the knight, still in the shadow of the wyvern's wings. "Try and outrun death. I'll catch up soon enough. First, though…" A pale tongue flicked out as the Moonstone licked his lips and shifted his gaze to the group of more experienced fighters. "Come on, entertain me!" He screamed as he charged forward at the others.

As quickly as he could, Franz mounted Neige, letting Amelia straddle the spot in front of him. His right arm clutched her midsection tightly to secure her, and with his left he cracked the reins of his steed.

"Come on, girl." He said softly. And as they rode away, Franz glanced back at the melee taking place and tried desperately not to think about what would happen to all of them if Valter won.

He had other concerns right now.

Get back to the base camp. Everything else was secondary.


Several minutes of hard riding later, Franz paused, breathing heavily. The pain from his wound was getting worse at a rapid pace, to say nothing of the trail of blood he was leaving behind him. He was loathe to slow even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't do any good if he himself collapsed halfway through.

Reluctantly, he ordered Neige to come to a temporary halt as he fumbled in his satchel for a vulnerary. Uncorking it and tossing the cover away, he took a quick dose.

…Better, he finally decided. There was still sharp stabs of pain, but as long as it he wasn't in any danger from collapsing from blood loss…

Then, and only then, did he realize that there was no way he could have bled so much on his own. The dark liquid was almost soaking straight through his tunic, clinging to his skin. His heart froze.

"AMELIA!" As quick as he could, he looked over her, finally noticing a gash across the side of her chest from which the dark blood flowed. How did I miss that? Frantically he tipped her head back, pouring the rest of the bottle's contents into her mouth and praying frantically that it wasn't too late.

Amelia seemed to react – marginally. But that had to be enough for now. As long as he reached the camp in time…

Quickly, he urged Neige forward – and just as quickly pulled her to a stop, eyes wide with horror.

Ahead of him was arrayed a battalion's worth of armoured horsemen, all clearly marked in the distinctive red of Grado's armour.

Quickly he cast about for another way out, but there was nothing but empty desert all around them – and he couldn't waste the time needed for a large detour.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, gathering himself together.

I will be your sword and fight for you.

His eyes snapped open, his expression shifting into a determined glare.

I promised.

"Let's go, Neige."

At his urging, she threw herself forward, charging for the line of soldiers at full speed. As he neared, they began to notice the lone figure rushing up to them, and they brought their weapons, confused looks on their faces. Franz supposed he could understand that – it wasn't everyday that a single knight charged an entire battalion.

With any luck they wouldn't resort to attacking until he got a little closer…

He saw one of them drawing his bow, but hesitating at the last moment, unsure if he should really be shooting at the single rider charging up to meet them.

Good for them, then. When the rider finally fired, it was a poorly aimed arrow that thudded into the sand close by Franz as he continued his charge. The others were now levelling their swords and spears, intent on stopping Frazn from getting by.

And then Franz was charging through them, fighting his way through like a man possessed. He barely registered any individual moments – everything passed by in a blur of steel and screams and noisy confusion. Through it all, he simply kept moving forward dodging and parrying blows, trying to break through the knights swarming around him.

Pain swept through his body – glancing blows he could have ignored had he been wearing his armour, but now… Spotting an opening, he struck, letting dark blood gush out.

No time for finesse. No time for mercy or holding back.

Break through. That was all that mattered.

And then suddenly he was on the other side of line, breathing heavily as he took stock of the wounds all across his body. There was still no time to stop as the knights were busy chasing him, and shaking his head Franz continued to ride back towards the base.

Fortunately there were no arrows coming his back, so either the mounted archer he'd seen earlier had chose not to fire at him for whatever reason, or as was more likely Franz had disabled him during their earlier fight.

Even more fortunately, Neige was able to widen the gap between them. As they continued to gradually fall behind, Franz began to wonder if the worst was over.

No it wasn't, as it turned out.

A black shadow fell over him for a brief instant, and Franz glanced up, eyes wide. Valter? But this wyvern's colour was different, a pale green instead of the dark grey of Valter's steed.

This, however, made the fact that it was swooping down in a low arc no less distressing.

Not now! Frantically he tried to steer Neige to the side, but the wyvern rider anticipated his move and swung to intercept easily, curved claws slashing down.

Franz hit his head hard enough for him to black out for a moment. What brought him around was the sound of a horse's scream.

Neige! Disoriented, he stumbled to his feet, seeing the wyvern crouched over the struggling form of his mount. Quickly he scanned the area, seeing Amelia lying some distance away. At that range there was no way to check if she had suffered any more injuries, but he couldn't risk running over to check – he had to defeat the wyvern rider first.

Just then, Neige's struggling ceased, and Franz resisted the urge to cry out, steeling himself instead for the battle.

The wyvern whirled around, blood and saliva dripping from its jaws as the rider raised his spear, face hidden by a steel helmet. Franz noted the crossed black axes embossed on his opponent's armour and grit his teeth. Just what he needed to face – an elite guard unit.

And then his opponent was rushing forward – his attacks bearing slightly less of Valter's inhuman speed and precision, but almost as powerful and brutal. Franz would have been hard-pressed to face him down at peak condition. He was decidedly not in peak condition.

Breathing hard and trying to ignore the streaks of pain across his body, Franz stumbled backwards against yet another of the rider's strikes – and lost his footing on the shifting sands. Collapsing heavily to the ground, he glanced up long enough to see the soldier levelling his lance again. Instinctively, he brought his blade up-

And the impact cracked his sword, sending gleaming fragments over the area. The shock of the blow sent a jolt through his arm, and his blade fell from nerveless fingers.

The rider made no sound as he shifted his lance again, this time aiming at Franz's heart. Throwing himself into a roll, Franz heard the thud of impact as the spear pierced the ground where he'd been a second ago. Pulling himself into a crouch, he looked up in time to see the rider after him again.

And then a blur of movement as Amelia leapt at the wyvern from behind, plunging her lance deep into the underbelly of the creature. The winged beast screamed and flailed wildly, one of its legs lashing out to catch Amelia in the side, sending her crashing to the floor once again.

"Amelia!" Breaking into a run, he swung to a halt as the wyvern crashed to the ground beside him. The wound had obviously been a deep one, and the beast wasn't going to survive much longer. But the wyvern rider himself was still alive and coming towards the both of them.

Quickly, he seized Amelia's lance, waiting for his opponent to strike. As the Grad soldier stabbed at him, Franz dodged, trying to score a blow himself.

The thinner, more delicate nature of Amelia's lance was different from the limited amount of lances that Franz was familiar with – yet another downside. Trying to find an opening, he shifted his stance, aiming at the rider's legs. But his opponent anticipated the move, and with a quick strike, Franz was sent tumbling to the ground once more, another bruise forming on his arm.

As he lay there, trying to recover his breath, he heard the soldier approaching. Slowly, now, almost casually. He had no weapons left… except…

"This ends now." The knight's voice was low as he raised his spear, levelling it at Franz once more.

"Agreed." Throwing himself forward and evading the lance strike, Franz seized his broken sword, lying near the shadow of the wyvern's corpse. As he rose in an upwards swing, the edge caught the wyvern knight in his midsection, spurting dark blood across the land.

Dropping the weapon and praying fervently for there to be no more soldiers on the hunt for them, Franz stumbled over to Amelia. She had been knocked unconscious yet again, this time with a gash over her forehead, losing yet more of her precious lifeblood. Uttering a curse, he picked her up as gently as he could manage.

He took a quick glance over to Neige. There was nothing he could do for his mount now.

"I'm sorry, girl." He whispered as he turned away. Leaving her there to rot in the sun didn't sit right with him, but he had to focus on those he could still save.


Franz didn't know how long he continued stumbling across the barren land, the muscles in his legs screaming in protest. More than once he stumbled and fell, having to take several long seconds to catch his breath before rising to his feet once more.

I promised. I promised to protect Amelia.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced his legs into action again.

I can't fail. Not here. Not now.

The sun was relentless, and after a while he began to notice that his vision was going hazy.

I promised.

One leg after another, one leg after another. Don't think about anything else, don't think about how much there was left to go. Just keep moving.

I promised.

Sand dune. Uphill. Tired. So tired.

Keep going.

I.

Keep going.

Promised.

Keep going.

And then suddenly, shouts, as if from a great distance. Knights… green armour. Frelian.

Within moments they were all around him, pulling Amelia from his arms.

Help her, he wanted to say. Never mind me, I'm all right. But help her. Get her to safety. Help her. But his mouth refused to open, refused to form the words.

As he felt strong hands grasp hold of him, the rest of the world faded to nothing.


Chapter End


Wow, this was pretty long.

Thanks for reading. Please review.