No Longer Alone
Hey. I'm back. Sorry about the month's wait.
In somewhat unrelated news, I got knocked down by a car recently.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
They had barely reached the edge of the forest when the battle began. And from that point on… it never really stopped. Light preserve them, but Franz had never realized just how many fiends the Demon King had available.
The closest they had to breaks in the battles were rare, halting respites when they waves of attacks slowed, and the exhausted soldiers were able to pause for brief rests. Even then they were continuously urged on, the time limit until the arrival of the full moon always burning in the back of their mind.
It was during one of these increasingly infrequent breaks that Franz found Ewan slumped down at his side, his clothes soaked with sweat, dark circles under his eyes. Hesitantly, he dismounted, rubbing Sophia's fur absentmindedly. "How are you holding up?"
"About as well as you could expect." Ewan smirked at him, but nothing could hide the exhaustion etched over the spellcaster's face. "My home is in the mountains, remember? I'm pretty hardy for a mage."
"Well, I guess I'm not too hardy for a knight, because I feel ready to collapse." Franz muttered as he reached over to take a drink from his water skin – only to find it empty. He stared with undisguised disappointment at the sack.
"What, want some water? Allow me." Ewan allowed himself a smile as he closed his eyes and focused. A moment later, a block of glowing ice appeared in the air between the two of them – the result of a stripped down Fimbulvetr spell. Once the magic energy that had been used to create the ice dissipated, Ewan lit a flame in his hand, holding it close to the ice block.
"Here. Collect as much as you can. And once the block is small enough, you can try crunching on it. It's pretty refreshing."
"Thanks, Ewan." As he moved to collect the melting water, he aimed a glance at the mage. "This sort of thing is pretty handy to have around, isn't it?"
"Master Saleh once told me that the greatest strength of magic lies in sheer versatility. The greatest mages can tap directly into the flow of magic around them and shape it completely to whatever they desire. Most of us lower-level spellcasters used predefined spells – the magic has already been shaped and guided into a specific form – and they usually imprint the energy onto books." Ewan grinned. "Of course, learning how to release these magics takes up a fair bit of time in its own right."
"I can imagine," Franz said softly. "So I guess that's what you're going to do after war? Keep studying magic?"
"Of course. I'm still not a patch on Master Saleh, and I've got a long way to go to be worthy successor to him. I'll probably continue working as a mercenary too." Ewan cocked his head to one side, a wistful smile on his face. "The easiest way to learn is by doing, after all."
"You can't say you haven't gotten more than enough practice." Franz commented somewhat ruefully as he stared out at the rest of the crowd. Noting that the water skin was relatively full now, he brought it to his lips, taking a long drink.
"No kidding. I've fought in… let's see… about a dozen major battles across four different countries now." Ewan blew out a breath of air. "It's actually kinda… I never really stopped to think about it. That's quite a lot, huh?"
"It really is." Further conversation was halted by an alarm blaring through the camp. The monsters were attacking again. The two friends shared a quick glance, and then they were on the move again, ready to continue the battle.
It had been two days since they'd set out from the Rausten Palace, and since then Amelia had barely gotten enough sleep to keep herself moving. Her nerves were completely frazzled, and she was starting to feel like one of the countless zombies – revenants, the correct term was revenants – that she'd struck down over the course of the past two days. Her endurance training that she'd received helped some, but by and large the long, hard slog wore her down constantly.
Sometimes, she felt as if it were nothing more than the promise of eventual victory and that it would all be over soon that kept her going.
But of course, it wasn't like she was the only one suffering – or even the one with the worst of it. As if on cue, a muffled thud sounded off to her side, and Amelia's head jerked up, eyes widening with alarm.
In a moment, she had darted through the press of bodies, squeezing through the soldiers and ignoring the annoyed grunts as she reached the source of the sound.
Reaching down, she quickly pulled Neimi to her feet. "You okay?"
"Fine. I'm fine. I just… tripped." Her archer friend looked away.
Amelia paused. "Do… do you want to take a ride on Fort?" She asked. "It'll probably be easier on you-" She was cut off by her friend shaking her head.
"No, Amelia. Don't worry. I told you I'm fine."
"Neimi…" Amelia hesitated. "You don't look fine. It's okay. We're all exhausted, too."
"Yeah, maybe everyone else is exhausted." Neimi's voice was tight. "But look, everyone else is holding up fine, aren't they? I don't want to hold everyone else back." She looked at Amelia, and the lancer could see the weariness in her friend's eyes, as well as the determination and resolve.
Silently acquiescing to her friend's stubbornness, Amelia shifted her pace so she was matching her friend, the two of them continuing their trek through the dense undergrowth.
"Amelia?" Neimi's voice suddenly floated over.
"Yeah?"
"How do you deal with it?'
The lancer paused. "How do I deal with what?"
"All this stress. I mean, it's just… the fate of the world is riding on this fight. Every step closer to the Temple or whatever just makes me feel worse. It's the biggest fight of our lives, one we absolutely cannot afford to mess up, and I feel worse than I ever have." She shook her head, and Amelia thought she could catch a glimpse of tears coming from her friend's eyes. "It's… I haven't been able to get any sleep. Even with how tired I am, my mind refuses to shut down. I keep worrying and fretting and – and seeing people get hurt. It's all in my mind, but it doesn't hurt any less. Colm, you, Franz, Artur… It's all so jumbled up together and I feel like I'm about to burst and – and I…" her last words trailed off into incoherence as she ducked her head, trying to stifle the sobs.
"Oh, Neimi." Amelia breathed out and amidst the press of weary soldiers all around them, she pulled her friend to a halt and hugged her, as tight as she could.
"It'll be okay," she said softly into her friend's ear. She didn't have any idea what else to say, but it didn't seem to matter to Neimi; she merely tightened her own hold around her friend's body, continuing to cry softly into her friend's shoulder.
Truth be told, Amelia felt a little like crying herself. But she willed herself to keep going. She had to be strong, for the sake of Neimi… and all her other friends.
"Just look at you." Natasha chided gently as she slowly cleaned out Franz's wound. "You're a mess."
"It wasn't my fault!" Franz protested. "The Gwyllgis jumped us from behind – it's a miracle I was even able to fend off three of them at the same time."
The cleric smiled. "I know. That takes commendable skill. You have grown," and then her voice lost some of its levity as she raised her staff and focused on the wound. "But you're still going to be left with a couple more scars."
"I expected as much." A few more seconds passed in silence as she continued to work on the gash, until Franz broke the silence.
"You know, Natasha, I've been wondering."
"Yes? What is it?" She looked up, a questioning look in her blue eyes.
"Most of the clerics… and priests, actually; they know how to heal people, right?"
"Well, yes."
"I'd always wondered why. I mean, I've been to the sermons, and I don't remember it being said anywhere that people of the cloth had to be healers and… well, I'm just curious."
Natasha chuckled softly. "Well, first of all, not all of the holy men and women are proficient in the healing arts, or with any sort of magic at all. But it is true that many of the faithful are more attuned to the ethereal and magical. Maybe it's the mindset. Regardless, the teachings of Saint Latona speak of an aversion to violence, at least against fellow humans," Natasha glanced off into the distance. "She was notably more supportive of the eradication of fiends. And of course, some of the holy men choose to disregard that particular aspect of our teachings." During this pause, she unwound a roll of bandages and began to dress Franz's injuries. "Anyway, back to the point – in between our proficiency for magic, our unwillingness to raise hands against fellow humans, and our desire not to feel completely useless in battles, our focus on healing came about naturally."
Franz looked thoughtful for a moment. "So that's how it went," a smile split his face. "Well, however, it came about, I'm glad you're here with me, Natasha. It's… comforting to have someone so skilled on hand to take care of the knights. We wouldn't have gotten far without you."
Natasha smiled back at him. "And where would the healers be without the brave, strong knights to form the front? We all have our parts to play in this conflict."
"Yes, well," Franz shrugged. "It's not like there's a shortage of soldiers, or anything. There are far less healers, and –"
"There may be more knights overall, Franz, but there are very few knights like you, in this army, or even in the world."
"What? Natasha, I'm not anything special," Franz shook his head. "Okay, my brother and General Seth have both mentioned that I have a pretty high rate of improvement, but so do other knights. And people like General Seth or General Duessel are still head and shoulders over me."
"That wasn't what I was referring to, although I do agree with their assessment of you being an above-average fighter," the cleric's smile was gentle. "Do you remember what I told you before?"
"Before?"
"About your heart of compassion."
"Hm… oh, right." Franz frowned as he pulled that memory up from the depths of his mind.
"Your will to fight comes from the pure desire to protect. That is strength, even if it's not exactly the kind you understand," her voice fell in volume. "I think you're going to need that strength for what lies ahead."
Franz grew quiet, too. "Yeah. Maybe."
A few more moments of silence passed before Natasha leaned back. 'Well, that's your wounds looked to. Now be careful and don't exert yourself the next few…" her words trailed off as she realized what she was saying. "Nevermind," she smiled but this time it reflected weariness and hurt.
With a quick word of thanks, Franz stood and left.
The Gorgon howled at her as it advanced, snapping its claws infury. Amelia pulled Fort to a halt, tightening her hold on her lance as she regarded the beast.
Both of them charged, and asn the Gorgon lashed out, one arm swinging around to strike at Amelia, she twisted her lance around, letting the momentum of her weapon bat aside the arm, the barbed edge of her weapon tearing through the monster's chest. The monster jerked back, screaming. A moment later, it had reared back on its long tail, and it's eyes had an unpleasant shiny gleam to them.
THUNK!
A thrown axe embedded itself into the Gorgon's neck. The monster's scream abruptly died off into a choked gurgle, and as Amelia plunged her spear in once more, the creature collapsed heavily to the ground, writhing out the last of its life.
"Thanks for the assistance," she said over her shoulder at Ross, who hurried over to retrieve his weapon.
"No problem. It was really a stroke of luck I was nearby, nothing else," with a quick swing, he flicked off most of the blood that had splattered onto the axehead. "I mean, with that horse of yours, it's kinda hard for any of us footsoldiers to keep up."
"It's not like I've been moving particularly quickly. It's not like anyone has," Amelia pointed out. "With all the fiends constantly slowing us down so much, we're dangerously close to slipping behind schedule." She turned to regard the rest of the soldiers picking off the remaining monsters. The ambush had been sudden, focused on cutting off a part of the army away from the rest of the pack..
"Hey. Amelia." Ross' voice sounded from behind her.
"Yeah?" She pulled Fort to a halt. "Anything the matter, Ross?"
"No, not really," Ross fell into step beside her. "I was just… I was just wondering about your mother. What's she like?"
"Mom?" Amelia questioned as she looked down. "She's… it's been a while since I've seen her. And… and I tried not to think too hard about her for a while. It just… hurt."
"But it shouldn't hurt so much now, right?" Ross gazed up at her. "I mean, now you know she's alive and all…"
"No, I guess not." A tiny smile found its way across her face. "She was… well, she was sickly. Even as a little girl, I could tell that my mother always feel sick easily. Maybe she just pushed herself too hard trying to look after me." She gazed up into the sky, her view blocked by the thick branches and leaves of the forest.
"What's your strongest memory of her, though? Is it a good one?" Ross prodded.
A shadow fell across Amelia's face. "Actually, my strongest memory of her would be the day she was taken away. It's…" She shook her head. "Nevermind. I also remember the time when I was going to bed. I was scared of sleeping alone, and then my mother came up and sang this lullaby to me. I can't actually remember the words anymore, but the melody was beautiful."
Ross was silent. "My mom never sang lullabies." He said after a while. "But she was a great cook, though. She always liked to make snacks for me and dad. That's when she wasn't helping him in the fields, of course."
"So many of us have lost parents, haven't we?"
"I dunno, I think the army tends to attract those types," Ross shrugged. "You start feeling mad, or maybe that the people who supported you and loved you are gone now, and you've got nothing left. This focuses you, more or less. Gives you a way to blow it all off."
"I guess that's not really true in my case." Amelia said softly. 'Even before I knew, I always had something I wanted to go back to. And now… after this war is over, I'm going to go see her again."
"Yeah," Ross grinned. "I've still got my dad too. Let's just finish this up and go home, huh?"
"Yes, let's."
Of all the things Franz had imagined himself doing during the final charge to the Black Temple, babysitting Myrrh was certainly not one of them.
Nevertheless, the young girl had abruptly received something of a rude shock as they passed through the final checkpoint. Probably something to do with her dragon blood (and Franz had some difficulty reconciling the shy, gentle girl with the imposing golden drake she could transform herself into at will, but she'd done it a few times in the past day to get them out of difficult situations, so who was he to argue?). Nevertheless she stumbled, one hand reaching up to clutch at her forehead.
'Hey, you okay?" From her other side, Forde leaned down to pat Myrrh on the shoulder.
"No, I'm fine," the Manakete's eyes were glassy and unfocused before she shook her head, seemingly pulling herself together. "We have to hurry. The last… the last of the dragons defending the Temple has fallen."
"Is that true?" Kyle's gaze hardened. "Lord Ephraim will need to be informed," he said shortly before riding off.
"C'mon, let's get you someplace where you can recover." Forde said to Myrrh after a moment's silence. "The monsters aren't really harrying us right now, so we should be okay for a few minutes."
With a hesitant nod, Myrrh followed after the two knights, flapping her wings to keep a short distance up in the air.
"So, Franz, you doing okay?"
"Fine," He gave a weary smile. "We've never really been in an endurance battle like this before, though. Multiple days and nights, small skirmishes all over the place, no real rest…."
"You mean you've never been in a fight like that. I've had more than my fair share, let me tell you that," Forde rubbed his chin contemplatively. 'Still, for someone who's supposedly never been in an endurance battle, you look pretty okay."
"I do? The last time I saw a reflective surface, I looked like a total mess."
"…Yeah, we kinda expect you to. That's what I meant by 'doing okay'."
Franz sneaked a glance over his older brother. Forde had bags under his eyes as well, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and grime. An ugly mark on his cheek still oozed red blood, although Forde had shrugged it off as 'not a big deal', and that there were important injuries to be looked at.
"I'm not the picture of elegance either, I know," his brother grinned cheerily, a stark contrast to the exhaustion around them. "But somehow, I always find the strength to keep going. I guess you have, too."
"I guess all of us have," as his gaze swept over the soldiers. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Amelia talking quietly to Neimi. "Everyone knows what's at stake here. We can't… we just can't afford to fail."
Forde kept silent as they finally settled themselves down. Franz hesitated a moment before continuing, "You know, Forde…"
"Mm?"
"I think I learned this from you. How to keep pressing forward, no matter what."
"Okay, what are you on about?" Forde raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about me, you know. The guy who's been known to paint in the middle of the battlefield."
"I'm not saying you don't have some… odd habits. And I know you tend to project an image of a lackadaisical slacker who only likes to crack jokes. But once people start paying attention, they can see your determination plainly. Whenever you set your mind to something, you get it done in the end," Franz paused, glancing up at the sky, a half-smile on his face. "When I was a kid, you barely scraped by on all those tests to get into the army-"
"Wait, you knew? But how-"
"General Seth told me," Franz admitted. "But he also told me that once you realized how precarious your situation was, you worked harder than ever and kept pushing yourself until you made it as part of Lord Ephraim's personal retinue. Whenever I was going through my own training and felt it too difficult or draining, I would remember you… and then I'd gain the strength to keep going forward, because you'd already done everything before me." As Franz finished, he trailed off somewhat uncomfortably, staring at the ground.
"You're not getting all mushy on my now, are you?" Forde chuckled.
"…Maybe I am." Franz smiled back.
Another silence descended for a few seconds before Forde slung one arm over his younger brother's shoulders. "Franz, you and I… we're going to get through this war. And then we'll go home. Together. That's a promise."
Amelia skipped back a step, letting the axe bury itself into the ground with a force that seemed to make the very earth around them shake. The Cyclops gave a bellow of frustration and with a jerk of its massive arms, raised the massive stone axe above its head again.
A flurry of fireballs exploded against the creature's exposed belly. None of them were able to pierce the thick hide of the massive monster, but it had apparently caused the thing enough pain that it shifted its attentions to the smaller mage.
"Whoops. Guess this thing's tougher than I thought," Ewan muttered at her side. "Hey, Amelia. Could you hold it off a couple seconds?"
Nodding, she urged Fort forward, despite the warhorse's obvious reluctance. As she neared, she hurled the javelin she had acquired as hard as she could at the beast. It broke through the skin – barely, and the Cyclops batted angrily at the jutting shaft it succeeded in snapping it away, leaving yet another broken weapon embedded in its swarthy hide. With a shake of her head, Amelia reached behind her and plucked out another, smaller lance. One hand that was nearly as large as her torso reached down, trying to squash her without using the heavy axe, but with a quick jerk of the reins Amelia pulled herself away at the last minute.
Just then, an intense light radiated from behind her, and a wave of intense radiated out from Ewan, waves of jagged ice tearing into the Cyclops. The monster gave a cry of agony and rage, stumbling forward before finally collapsing.
Even then, there was no rest. Swarming out from the trees all around them were more and more of the monsters, attacking. The closer they got to the temple itself, the more intense and ferocious the monster's attacks became, as if they could sense how much more desperate their position was becoming.
"Ewan" She called out as a Revenant lurched from the trees, claws reaching at him. Noticing the danger, the mage spun and backed off, hands raised to gather more magic and to defend himself. Throwing Fort in between Ewan and the rotting creature, she stabbed down at the creature's head, shattering skull and splattering chunks of brain all over the place.
From behind the first Revenant came more of the misshapen monstrosities, along with one or two Entombed. They always did seem to come in waves. Resisting the urge to utter a curse – it'd just waste a breath she couldn't afford – Amelia brought her lance up again. From behind her, Ewan launched a burst of flame at the nearest of the creatures.
Several hard minutes later, Amelia wearily clambered off Fort. The last of the monsters had fallen, although one of the Entombed had succeeded in scoring a blow on her mount that had nearly sent her mount into a blind panic. Only a firm hand and a hastily shouted command had prevented him from fleeing wildly or possibly bucking and throwing her off. Now, with a short lull in the fighting, it was probably best to treat the wound, and as quickly as possible.
"It'll be okay, Fort," she said soothingly as she quickly pulled out the healing salves. From behind her, Ewan stepped up, one arm folded protectively across a rather deep cut on his chest. Amelia paused in her work, noticing the rather serious wound for the first time.
"Uh, any chance you have a spare vulnerary?" He managed a slight smile as he spoke up, although the pain on his face was readily apparent.
"Can do one better," she replied as she dug into her pack. "Here." With a sweep of her hands, she tossed him an elixir bottle.
"Oh, that's nice. Thanks." Ewan hastily quaffed the medicinal potion, breathing out a sigh of pent up relief as his wound began to close.
Our clothes are going to be nothing more than rags by the end of this. Amelia thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "You can consider that repaying the favour."
"Favour? Oh!" The mage's eyes brightened. "Back when I first met you, wasn't it? In Bethroen."
Amelia chuckled. "Yeah, that long ago."
"And look where we are now. Best of friends." Ewan picked idly at his tattered robes. "We've been together for so long, I'd nearly forgotten there was a time when I hadn't the faintest clue who you were."
"You'll be heading back to Caer Paelyn after all this, right?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. For a while, anyway. There's always more stuff to do for a mercenary in training," Ewan paused and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, Amelia. You figured out what you want to do yet? After the war, I mean."
When Amelia looked up at him, there was a soft, gentle smile on her face. "Yeah. After all this, I'll visit my mother first. And after that, I'll go to Renais and enlist with their Knights."
"Heh. Good choice, I think." He grinned as he stepped forward. "I'll be sure to come visit every once in a while. Just have to make sure Franz is treating you right."
She shot him a glare of mock annoyance. "And where, exactly, did I say anything about Franz?"
The laughter that followed seemed to lift the weight pressing down on their shoulders, if only for a brief moment.
"General Seth!" Franz called out. At the warning, his mentor whirled, catching sight of the Tarvos that had been thundering up to him. A quick flash of silver in the pale moonlight, and the creature fell quickly.
Catching his breath, Seth turned to regard Franz, giving him a nod of thanks. As Franz brought Sophia closer in line with the Silver Knight's own mount, he took a quick glance up at the moon. It was almost full – they had until the next night, at the most.
"Aren't you supposed to be at the left?" The Silver Knight questioned with a raised eyebrow as soon as he got within earshot.
"Yes, there's – there's been a surprise attack on the flank. I was sent for reinforcements."
"All right." Turning to the rest of the squad behind him, Seth quickly gave several orders to several of the men, and they quickly formed up, riding in the direction Franz had came from.
"Sir?" Franz questioned. "I thought… isn't this side under attack as well?"
"Yes, but we can spare the men. The monsters have been pulling back somewhat, probably for an all-out defence of the temple, so we've been hard-pressed. If they're attacking the flanks as you claim, they must be trying to divert us from our charge."
In minutes, they had returned to the site from which Franz had set out, and it was still a chaotic mess. Steeling himself, Franz launched himself into battle, with the General at his side. The sudden rush of soldiers had managed to turn the tide of the frantic battle, and the fiends were quickly defeated off.
As an exhausted Franz resheathed his blade and wiped the sweat from his face, he noticed General Seth staring at him from out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes, General?" He inquired.
"…No. It's nothing." The Silver Knight looked away.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, nothing." His mentor gave him a tired smile. "And I meant that in the most positive way possible. The way you fight has improved tremendously. You know how to take initiative in battle, how forms and stances are steady and balanced… I could go on."
"I still have much to learn, General."
"No doubt. So do I. But I believe you've grown strong enough to stand on your own, now…" His voice trailed off in a contemplative silence for a moment. "When we return to Renais, I think you'll be ready for assignments separate from my own."
"I don't feel ready at all, general." The only reason I've come so far certainly hasn't been because I stood on my own. Everyone else stood with me and supported me, and that's why…
"None of us ever do." Seth replied with a laugh. "But it all seems to work out in the end."
"…" Franz paused. "General?"
"Yes?"
"What if… what if doesn't work out this time? We're all stretched to our limits right now… we're running out of time… and the toughest part of the fight is still ahead."
"Well, if you want me to make a blanket promise that we're all going to get out of this alive and well, I can't promise that. Anything could happen in a battlefield, after all. But I'll ask you to look at your friends around you, to look at our leaders. They've come so far, and surpassed so much already. All the great nations of the land stand united now. Franz," Seth's voice was low and filled with conviction. "We will not fail."
Franz stood there, silent, trying to grasp some of his mentor's teaching and conviction for his own. He was roused from this effort by the appearance of more growls coming from deeper in the forest, signifying the appearance of a fresh wave of enemy troops.
Student and mentor shared a glance of weariness, camaraderie, and determination before they raised their weapons and prepared to face the onslaught of darkness yet again.
"Agh!" Amelia gave a cry of pain as she tumbled from Fort, the victim of a glancing blow from some sort of darkness spell. In the near darkness she couldn't see the terrain around her, but luckily when the world became still around her again nothing appeared broken or badly injured, and so she hastily pulled her self to her feet.
Or at least she tried to. Apparently a root of some kind had tangled itself around her leg, and in the darkness, the moon's light obscured by the thick branches, she couldn't find the offending root. With a growl of frustration, she yanked hard, trying to dislodge it from whatever plant it belonged to.
No luck. Fumbling around her pack, she quickly grasped the torch – I knew it would come in handy sooner or later – she'd stocked earlier, and made to light it.
An unearthly scream drew her attention, to a floating eyeball hovering just outside of her striking range from her lance. Amelia faced down the Arch Mogall, and for a moment she felt a jolt of her fear, which quickly faded away under a wave of anger and determination. She was not going to fail after having come so far, and certainly not to an oversized floating eyeball!
The Mogall released a blast of dark power at Amelia, and she dodged to the side, as far as the entangling root would allow her to, anyway. Her eyes narrowed in determination, and she drew her lance out, trying to strike at the creature. But it was too fast, darting away, and –
And more of its brethren were appearing from the shadows. Amelia pursed her lips. Not good. Fleetingly, she wished Franz or Ewan were here. Having the ability to start a fire sounded pretty good right about now.
Then she glanced down at the torch in her hands. Then she looked up at the gathering monsters, all of them glaring at her as best they could.
"Well, here goes nothing." She muttered to herself. As quick as she could, she set the torch aflame, and tossed it at the nearest bundle of leaves she could find. Luck was with her; apparently it hadn't been very rainy recently, and the leaves caught fire easily, sending a large blaze up in a matter of seconds.
For some reason, Ewan's somewhat patronizing lecture about how a mage could extinguish magical fire whenever he or she wanted and thus could avoid fires blazing out of control was running through her head as she ducked down, using the greater visibility to quickly untangle herself from the root. Soon, she was able to yank herself free and kick the root deeper into the undergrowth.
The jubilation at her newfound freedom was quickly replaced by anxiety – while the fire had served to distract and alarm the Mogalls for long enough, they were now rallying and gunning for her yet again. Meanwhile, the blaze wasn't getting any smaller.
With a shake of her head, Amelia brought her lance up and struck down the nearest of the eyeballs, sending it crashing to earth. As more of them congregated around her, she continued her movements. She had some vague idea of moving further away from the rapidly spreading blaze, but the flow and press of battle was what truly dictated her movements anyway.
Abruptly a massive battle-axe carved through one of the Mogalls she had been aiming for and she stepped back in surprise. Her eyes widened, first in recognition, and then in exuberance.
"General Duessel!"
The Obsidian was at her side, moving with surprising grace and agility as he continued his rampage through the Mogalls. Three more had dropped to brutal slashing strikes from his battle-axe before he turned back to her.
"Amelia! Get out of here, now!"
Quickly, Amelia obeyed, backing up and keeping watch to ensure none of the flying eyeballs ambushed her. Shortly after, the General was at her side, and she could see several mages running about and casting Fimbulvetr spells to contain the blaze.
"That was reckless, girl," he said gruffly, but without any real ire in his voice
"I know, but I was trapped and I needed a distraction." She turned to gaze wearily at him from the corner of her eye. "Sorry to have worried you, sir."
"Well, it worked, so I suppose I can let it pass." He replied with a shake of his head. "Now come on. We're in the last lap, and we can't afford to fail."
"Understood." She bounded forward, until she was walking side by side with the Obsidian. Before, she would considered this unbelievably presumptuous on her part, but now… now she felt closed to the aged warrior. She supposed it was only natural, after having spent so long training under him.
There was silence for a few more moments, until Amelia took the initiative to speak up again. "General, thank you."
"Hm?" Rousing from his own musing, Duessel turned to look at her. "What for?"
"For my mother. For saving her… for keeping her safe."
"You've already thanked me for that. Many times, as a matter of fact." Even in the gloom, she could tell that he was smiling.
"I know, but this is something different. General, even when I was just a kid… I wanted to be a soldier, so I could be strong enough to protect those I cared for. And whenever I thought about being a model soldier, it, well, you were always the person that came to mind."
"Was I now?" He chuckled softly. "You flatter me, lass."
"Well, if what you've done during this war is any indication, I'd been underestimating you all the while," she replied gamely before her face became serious again. "You opposed the war and nearly got yourself killed for it. You helped Ephraim to stop Emperor Vigarde and the Demon King's madness because it was the right thing to do – even some of the other generals couldn't manage that. You went out of your way to train a scared, helpless girl so she could hold her own on the battlefield, and… and now, I've also learnt that you were the one who saved my mother, that you provided a house for her and a living, all at your own expense.
"General, I've seen that you are everything a soldier should aspire to be," she looked up at him, and although she could not know it, there was a glow of admiration in her eyes. "And – and I can only hope that one day I'll be even half as great a soldier – as great a person – as you."
Duessel was silent for a very long while as they continued their trek through the woods. And just as Amelia caught sight of Fort in the distance and whistled to get him over, he spoke again.
"Thank you, Amelia," his voice was oddly husky. "I'll do my best to continue living up to your expectations. And to do that, we'll both need to get out of this in one piece."
"Understood." She nodded as she patted Fort to reassure him and began to mount him again.
"Let's go. There's still plenty of work to be done."
Pale sunlight was starting to filter in through the canopies once more as Franz charged the Wights congregating around him. A quick backslash removed the head of the nearest one, and a vicious stab shattered the shield arm of another of the reanimated skeletons.
With the advent of daylight, the allied forces had finally come into view of the massive structure that was the Black Temple – and the hundreds, if not thousands, of demons all standing guard. It had stood to reason that these were the strongest of all the darkness-birthed creatures, and they constituted the last line of defence protecting the Demon King.
Gazing over the seething hordes, he noted the apparent incongruity of a single man standing by the steps of the Temple, dressed in the robes of the Rausten Bishops. Well, that man could be worried about later.
The cavalry had been assigned to lead the charge, and as Franz urged Sophia forward, he caught a flash of golden hair and crimson armour.
Amelia. Almost subconsciously, he nudged Sophia's reins, guiding her closer to hFort and his rider.
She was handling herself well, lance darting forth to knock down any of the foes that approached her. As he neared, she reared Fort back, and used the extra momentum to pierce through an Entombed's forehead, killing (or was it re-killing?) the creature instantly
"Amelia." He called. She turned to him, and a grin split her face.
"Franz!"
"Are you okay? I haven't seen much of you ever since we started out from the palace."
"Yeah, I know," she gave a weary, rueful smile. "I barely had enough time to catch any rest, let alone get around socializing."
The trailed off into silence. Suddenly, with the urgency of the situation pressing so close on them, they didn't have much to say to each other that didn't appear completely frivolous.
Finally, Amelia nodded and guided Fort towards the temple. "Well, we should hurry up."
"All right. We'll go together." As one, the two of them continued their charge, sword and lance working in tandem to stave off the rush of oncoming foes. Gwyllgi, Wights, Deathgoyles, all these and more pressed down on them, but their skill (and luck) was enough to bear them through.
Suddenly, a golden bolt of light burst directly in front of the two of them, creating an explosion that sent Franz flying. After a brief moment where his head swam, he looke dup to see that Amelia had been similarly unseated.
"Soph-!" He couldn't see her anywhere. Had she been – no, there was no time to worry about that. Tightening his grip on the Light Brand, he turned to face their attacker.
The Bishop. In the grey dawn, he looked… ghastly. Deep, sunken eyes glared at them with inhuman malice, his yellowed skin stretched taut across his face, lips pulled back to reveal a sneer of hate.
"Fools!" He screamed, and his voice was dry and cackling, and the knight could see froth building at the edges of his mouth. "Struggling vainly against the new age! Why do you not despair? WHY DO YOU NOT YIELD?" As he finished his cry, he raised his staff again, and another pillar of light screamed down from the heavens.
"Get down!" He was suddenly aware of Amelia tackling him from the side, and both of them were rolling along the dried leaves of the forest floor while another light burst crashed into the ground behind them.
"Thanks." He gasped out, already pulling himself to his feet again. Why would the Demon King have a wielder of Light magic on his side?
Well, two could play that game. As the insane Bishop raised his arms yet again to summon another spell, Franz focused, and from the Light Brand he was carrying a bolt of Light energy surged forth, slamming into the Bishop's chest.
Unhappily, it failed to do much damage at all, although to be honest Franz had half-expected that. He was more interested in distracting the man from trying another of his powerful light spells, and in that aspect at least, he had succeeded. A quick glance around told him he couldn't expect help from others – they appeared to be tied down dealing with what appeared to be an undead Dragon of some sort – and so he narrowed his eyes.
"Amelia, I'll cover you with the light blasts." He said softly, hoping the madman wouldn't overhear. "You run over and take him down."
"Got it." Instantly, she was darting forward, lance raised high. Meanwhile, Franz narrowed his eyes, sending bolt after bolt of light at the man.
"Worms." The Bishop hissed, voice burning with manic intensity. "Your struggles are pointless!" Abruptly, a shining sphere of light surrounded the man which handily blocked off Franz's attacks – as well as Amelia's thrust with her own weapon. With a grin, he spread his arms further and the sphere exploded outwards, sending Amelia crashing to the ground.
Ignoring the impulse to call out her name, Franz leapt forward himself, raising his weapon high to intercept the next blast of Light energy from the Bishop. The force of the blow travelled up his arms, and Franz gritted his teeth. The man was skilled, there was no doubt of that.
"You!" A commanding voice proclaimed from behind, and a moment later another burst of Light magic shot through the air, to be intercepted by a blast from the Bishop. Twisting his head, he saw the imposing sight of L'Arachel astride her gelding, eyes shining with determination. "Your unholy crimes are at an end!"
"You!" The Bishop growled in turn as he beheld her, his bony fingers tightening around his staff. "You're that man's niece. Oh, I am going to enjoy this!" With a deft motion of his hand, he had created another sphere of Light that he launched at the princess.
Meanwhile, Franz hurried over to Amelia, ignoring the duek of Light magic behind him. Crouching by her side, he did a quick evaluation of her wounds. "You okay?" He questioned.
"Been better." She mumbled as she tried to pull herself to her feet. Hurriedly, Franz reached down to aid her. Amelia had just succeeding in standing and grasping her weapon again when a triumphant call came from L'Arachel.
"You cannot win, traitor!" She proclaimed. "Divine providence is always on the side of virtue and justice! And I have a more powerful spell than you!" Her eyes appeared to glow pure white for a brief moment, and she thrust he hands out. "IVALDI!"
A glorious blaze erupted from her outstretched fingers, drowning the area in a sea of pure light so intense that Franz and Amelia had to look away. When the radiance had finally faded, the two of them glanced up hopefully – and Franz's heart sunk as he heard the sound of mocking laughter.
"Oh, you think you'll win because you have the powers of God with you, is that it?" His eyes were wider than ever before, and burns seemed to cover most of his exposed skin, stripping from him all but the most superficial aspects of humanity. "Well, guess what, princess. I have the backing of one greater than humanity, too! Behold, the might! Of the DEMON KING!" With another peal of insane laughter, the Bishop sent forth a stream of shining light at the Princess, forcing her to counter with her own. And despite her best efforts, it was apparent that she was being steadily pushed back.
"Oh, how I've longed for this! This day where all of your pathetic and much vaunted efforts come to NAUGHT! Soon… soon, this wretched world will burn, and there's not a single thing any of you witless roaches can do to stop it! Scream! CRY! BEG! Beg for your pathetic – schrrlch! – Ahhak! Gah…" The Bishop sank to his knees, twisting to look at the lance and sword buried in his torso as L'Arachel, exhausted, slumped back.
Franz and Amelia, still grasping their respective weapons, merely stared at him, each taking in deep breaths.
Finally, the madman peeled his lips back once more. "Fools. This changes… n – nothing. The Demon King – will – will…" The corpse flopped limply to the ground.
"Lady L'Arachel, are you-"
"Fine! I'm fine! Splendid work, you two making use of the distraction I provided for you." The princess of Rausten stood again, brushing away dirt from her knees. "Oh, look, it appears they've cleared the path to the entrance. Splendid." And without another word, she marched off towards the entrance, where the rest of the army was congregating.
Franz shared a brief glance with Amelia – they both knew it wasn't time to celebrate yet. Breaking into jogs, they reformed at the entrance to the Black Temple, along with the rest of the army.
"There's no point in bringing along everyone." Ephraim was saying softly. "Not only would they not fit, but given circumstances we'd just be increasing casualties. A team of our best soldiers, that's all."
"Agreed." Duessel nodded. "We need to hit hard and fast for this."
A few minutes later, Franz's eyes widened slightly as both his and Amelia's names were called out as part of the team to enter the Temple itself.
Well, he'd hadn't exactly been planning on sitting this fight out anyway. As he stepped forward, he shared a brief glance with Amelia.
"I'll be your sword." He said softly. The faint traces of a smile crept across her face.
"I'll be your shield." She replied. And then, the two of them turned to stare into cavernous maw that marked the entrance.
It was time to end this.
Chapter End
I would like to say that I had way too much fun writing Riev's dialogue.
Thanks for reading. Please review.
