December 28th, 1964
The air was icy cold, but Franz barely felt it, too focused and anxious for the mission to get under way; or rather, for the combat to start. The mission itself had started in the morning, when Franz had met up with Roy Mustang and the rest of the team before dawn, and they had then spent the next couple of hours sneaking past the Amestrian line and across the intervening space - deceptively large given how far a man could see from the cliffs - towards the point between the two lines from which the Flame Alchemist would set off his attack. There was no way to reach the exact spot without a distraction. Until the Amestrian line opened fire, they wouldn't have it.
It had been surprising just how many trees and rocks there were on what – from a distance - looked like a mostly flat plain. There had been a surprising number of things to hide behind or other features they had come across along the way, like a small lake that had been mostly frozen over for months already at least. Franz wondered if anyone fished or swam in it other than wildlife. Under different conditions - and in warmer weather - it might have been an idyllic spot to play with the kids.
The children and Sara were even more on his mind than usual as he waited, crouching in the cold morning in hiding, waiting. Trisha and James would be heartbroken if he didn't come back. Sara would probably find a way to bring him back just to kill him again for breaking his promise and dying. So, death was not an option. That did not stop the feeling of foreboding that crept upon him with every minute that ticked away. Whatever happened today, he suspected something critical would happen to sway the tide of the war. He hoped, desperately, that it was the success of Mustang's idea.
Franz was glad he knew the details of the plan, or the wait would have seemed even more interminable. As they hiked or hid, he kept track in his mind of what was going on back at camp. It helped give some semblance of action in an otherwise nearly motionless world. The soldiers would stir, move to positions, and prepare for another day's firing at each other like any other. The only questions were usually which side they would fight it out on that day or if it would be along the entire front line. General Breda wanted everything to seem as innocuously normal as possible this morning, other than that the hot-area for the fighting would seem to be centered east, away from the approaching alchemist and his entourage.
That was really all they were, Franz thought. Men with guns there to make sure Roy Mustang reached his destination alive to do his work. In that matter, they were all expendable as long as Mustang succeeded. To Franz though, that mission included surviving to make sure it happened, and making sure he arrived back safely as well.
Off to the right, the shooting started. Ten minutes to go, Franz counted off silently. He watched Mustang intently. The old State Alchemist - retirement seemed moot at this point - had an intent look on his face as he stared in the direction of combat. He wore no gloves yet, but Franz knew why. The last thing Mustang needed was for those gloves to get wet before he needed them.
For all the military dog references to State Alchemists, Mustang reminded Franz more of a cat; a large hunting cat out of the jungles of Aerugo or the mountains of Xing. He was poised, almost perfectly still, his one eye intent as his senses fixed on the fighting in the distance but also seemed aware of everything around them.
Anxiety mounted as the clock ticked down. Then, when the appointed moment came, they all burst into action on Mustang's signal. Coming out from under cover they moved at a brisk trot towards the destination; a point a few hundred yards further on that was also, unfortunately, within sight of the Drachman line. Still, with the distraction under way, they should make it close before they came under fire.
"There goes another one," Maes grinned as he watched the tank in the distance erupt into flames. So far, it seemed that today's combat was going well, if not all that different than it had for the past few weeks. The only difference was that today they had stepped up the alchemical attacks again, which had been a little slack lately as they allowed injured alchemists to recuperate.
It seemed to be having the right effect. The Drachmans had concentrated their fire almost immediately on the east end of the line when that was where the alchemical attacks came from. It wouldn't take long before they wondered if there wasn't another attack coming almost certainly, but the idea was only to distract them long enough for his father to pull off his attack. They could manage that right? After all, how long did it take to rip open an underground gas pocket and light it on fire?
"We're on fire today," the Shock Alchemist quipped as lightning danced across the enemy, destroying weaponry and knocking soldiers unconscious or dead in moments.
"Not yet," Maes shook his head. "That's Drachma's fate."
"You think the plan will work?"
It was an odd thing to ask him, Maes thought for a moment. Did Closson think he didn't think his father was capable of it, or did he just want the opinion of another flame alchemist as to the likelihood of success? He decided to assume Closson meant the second. "As long as the Xingese alchemist in charge of getting that spot open does their job and Flame's team makes it there, than I don't see any reason why it should fail," Maes replied. "All it has to do is blow up and get steered north." Okay, so that wasn't as easy as it sounded. "I just hope General Breda's ready to order a quick retreat on our part if it doesn't go as planned."
"He's always ready," Tore replied. "Besides, we've got you for back-up, right? If Flame needs it of course."
"Right." Not that Maes was absolutely certain he could handle a transmutation of that scale, in the wild elements surrounding them, and the sheer amount of power that would take. Really, that was his biggest worry about his father too. Could Roy Mustang, no matter how brash and bold, really handle that much raw power? That was why he wanted to go along; together it would be easier. Still, it felt wrong to be the only one to voice serious doubts about his old man's abilities. "I doubt he'll need the help," he smiled confidently. He didn't take it when I offered it. Even knowing the reasons his father gave, it was hard to believe that was all of it. Roy Mustang never let personal attachment get in the way of a mission or affect his personal judgment. Yeah right. Whoever wrote that bit of history must have been smoking something.
Nothing went this smoothly, Roy Mustang thought to himself as he hurried with long purposeful strides towards the point he was looking for. He knew it by distance and by landmarks, but he knew he wouldn't be able to see the distance transmutation circle the Xingese alchemist – a man named Toh – had snuck out and set up two days prior. It had snowed over it like it was supposed to. When he arrived he would be visible to the alchemist waiting for them on the heights; his appearance would be the signal to set off the explosion that would release the gas. Then it was all up to him.
So far it was too simple. Roy felt pricks of paranoia on his neck as he moved forward, unhindered, and with five armed men covering him from all sides at a little distance. They were expendable men as far as the military was concerned. Roy had done his best to pick men without family, who wouldn't flinch from death at the last moment. He was still having second – and third – thoughts about allowing Heimler on the mission. The Colonel had proven his shooting ability to even Riza's satisfaction; his skill was not in question. Roy felt foolish at making that differentiation, but he felt guilty about possibly taking away one more child's parent when it might have been avoided. He supposed at his age it was an allowable consideration. He refused to call it a weakness.
The first enemy shot whizzed past in the air, several feet to his right. It was answered immediately by reports from two of his guards. Further fire followed and in moments it was a fight. Now this is more what I was expecting. Roy dodged behind a couple of trees and shifted his pattern, breaking into a jog. His objective was his target. It wasn't up to him to get caught up in combat with a few scattered Drachmans. Still, the Drachman scouts beyond their lines had found them, and now it was only a matter of time until the Drachman higher-ups realized that something else was going on.
Sorry boys, no time to play today. Roy broke into a full-out run, dodging and ducking and making himself as difficult a target as possible, using any cover he could find. Gunfire continued, and he heard people grunt, cry-out, and fall on both sides, but he had no way of knowing who was down or how many.
Another half-mile; a stitch began to form in his side, and Roy tried to ignore it. His knees ached, but he did not slow down. What good was he if not for this? Age be damned, he was the Flame Alchemist!
At a quarter mile the firing around began to lessen, and at a hundred yards he heard nothing. He couldn't look around to see if anyone was left, not without tripping over something unseen in the snow like a tree root. His sides ached, he panted heavily, heart thumping wildly in his chest from the exertion in the cold. Running through snow was rough.
A crack to his right made him whip his entire head around, and he slid, nearly colliding with a tree before he recognized Franz Heimler, still keeping up, gun drawn; glasses askew on his face. Roy stopped under the tree, panting for a moment.
Franz caught up, looking only slightly less winded. "We're clear for the moment… I think," he told him. "Marshal and Panders are down for certain. I'm not sure about Tiggs and Venkleman." He righted his glasses as he spoke.
Given the lack of shooting, there was no way to tell if they had hunkered down – which Roy doubted – or were injured or dead in the snow. They wouldn't have abandoned their duty, so he assumed one of the later two options. "It's just us then, Heimler," he replied, breathing deeply. "We're almost there."
"I've got your back, Sir," Heimler replied with a determined expression.
"Cover me from here," Roy ordered, and gestured past the tree. "That's the target; between that pillar rock and that bush. As soon as I leave here, Toh should start, and then it should only be a matter of seconds before the Drachmans learn the real meaning of the words fire fight."
"Clever, Sir," Franz grinned smugly.
Roy chuckled. "Never go into a battle without a few good lines, Heimler."
"Even if there's no one around to hear them?"
"There's always yourself," Roy pointed out. "As long as you can quip under pressure, your brain is working."
"I see. Good luck, Sir."
Roy nodded, feeling a sobering effect in the moment. This was it. "You too, Colonel." He pulled out his gloves and tugged them on tightly. Then he turned and sprinted for the rock.
Fifty feet from that point he almost hesitated, but no, he had to trust the other member of his team, however distant. He snapped his fingers together and aimed-
-as the spot in front of him glowed blue and suddenly erupted a gush of gas that began to rip a line away from him heading eastward like a locomotive, rock and earth blowing out of its way. In that moment, it caught fire, and a brilliant flame of orange and blue ripped across the ground and down the line, growing taller by the moment; inches, feet, than yards in height as it shot upwards as Roy fed the flames and felt them burning, flickering, growing stronger with the energy of his transmutation.
It was the most glorious feeling he had ever known! With so much raw material it took energy, tons of energy, pouring through Roy and pulled from him as he stood, arms outstretched, feeling the radiant heat that came off the beautiful flames. Gas flames – he had almost forgotten – weren't all yellow like his usual fire. They were blue and purple with licks of yellowish red in places when it cooled or wind blew against them.
But the flames stood against the wind, climbing higher and higher! Roy poured it on, how big could they go? That was what he was about to find out! The line extended well off to his left to the wall nearly, and then right, vanishing in the distance but he could feel it surging now, the fire catching and ripping along, audible in its explosion; popping, clicking, and a constant rushing of expelling gas.
Roy closed his eyes to the flames, relishing the heat that bathed him, and focused, ignoring the sweat popping out on his forehead and under his clothes. Control, he had absolute control over the biggest fire wall in the history of alchemy. Surely Master Hawkeye had never managed something as fine as this. He could almost feel the full length of it, though he was sure that if Toh did his job right, it would extend all the way across the several miles of ground to the eastern cliffs, perfectly dissecting the two fighting armies. I hope none of the Amestrians were stupid enough to leave the trenches. It was too late now, but he trusted Breda to have kept orders clear; no charges today.
It was such a heady experience; the perfect flame. A once in a life time experience. Grow, beautiful fire. I've never felt the like, and they've never seen it. Burn, devour; follow your nature as never before. For me… for Amestris.
Roy was either insane, or an absolute genius. Edward decided almost at once that the Flame Alchemist had to be both as he watched the ground crack and split, hissing right down between the Drachman and Amestrian lines, erupting almost at once with gouts of dancing flames that grew, and grew!
"I've never seen anything like it," Kane gasped quietly beside him on the edge of the cliffs, just south of the end of the eastern trenches.
For a moment, the world fell silent; the shooting stopped when both sides realized their bullets couldn't make it through such a barrier. The wall rose higher, and higher; always perfectly even until Ed was sure it stood at least twenty feet tall. "Me neither," he admitted. "I'm impressed."
"That's a lot coming from you," Kane chuckled. "I almost can't believe he did it!"
Ed pried his eyes away from the wall to look down. The soldiers, who had first shouted and seemed like they might panic, calmed by their superiors, now stood transfixed, though those closest to the front line had leapt backwards in shock and a few were pulling back from the heat despite the distance between them and the fire wall.
"Now he's got to get it to bend northward." That had to be harder. The wind was gusting, and the fire needed to be controlled. The gas had a fixed location, and that meant the flames themselves would have to be bent and moved despite the irregular air movement.
On the other side, the Drachmans were shouting, fear and concern clear in the notes of distant voices. They didn't sound defeated though. Not that Ed had expected them to surrender on the spot for a display of alchemy, no matter how incredible.
Slowly blue and white tips began to bend, and the flames began to lean over, angling down towards the Drachmans. Then the shouting really started.
"My god… it's working."
At the slightly breathless gasp, Ed glanced over his shoulder to find Breda, Falman, and Feury all standing behind him. Apparently everyone wanted to see this. A lot of military support who weren't soldiers were still there on the cliffs. The State Alchemists, mostly fighting at a distance, had stopped to watch history in the making.
The fire leaned lower, and lower, the wall growing ever stronger, ever bigger. It dropped sharply, and then spouted upwards. Ed wasn't sure at once what was going on in a moment's hesitation, but a second later the fire roared with an intensity Ed had never seen witnessed by any flame – pure white light that danced alchemical blue seemed to half-consume the valley below with its brilliance! And then, the wall returned to the color of gas flame, and began to spread. It ate over the ground into the Drachman lines and – now lower – Ed could see beyond it.
The Drachman soldiers had broken and fled. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of bodies already lay burned and smoking as the fire devoured everything in its path.
"He did it!"
"And then some," Breda replied. "I may have to have a word with him later about overkill."
"Oh, what's wrong with enjoying the show part of a show of force?" Ed replied. "I-"
He stopped mid-line. There was something wrong with the scene below. The flames, racing eagerly through the Drachmans, devouring every man, weapon, or pack it could touch; were shifting in the whipping winds, and along the very line that Roy had created, they began to lick the trees on the Amestrian side, which burst into flames almost at once. The sounds of wet trees exploding from sudden heat came to his ears despite the distance.
For whatever reason, the fire was moving out of control.
"Breda! Call a retreat," Ed barked, decorum be hanged. "Now!"
They all saw what he saw then, and in a moment Feury was sprinting for the communications tent less than twenty yards off. Breda followed at a surprisingly quick run. Below, the Amestrian soldiers were acting on their own. Shouting broke out as they turned and retreated at full speed. But it wasn't going to be fast enough, not at this rate. They needed time, and the fire was moving rapidly, and growing on its own, well beyond anything Ed knew any alchemist – philosopher's stone or not – might be able to handle. If it reached the cliffs, it would jump to the forest above on the sides of the road.
"We've got to stop it!" Without thinking, Ed leapt to the edge of the cliff and slid down the incline on his heels, leaping from rock to rock where necessary to reach the ground well below. He pulled the radio out of his pocket as his feet struck earth again. "Alchemists Build a wall!" He hoped they understood; he hoped Kane didn't mind his completely taking over. Ed sprinted forward, slammed his hands together and fell to the earth. In front of him the thickest wall of earth he had ever managed erupted in front of him, growing as tall and wide as he could reasonably make it. He couldn't cover the entire valley, but he could make a good dent in it!
His Alchemists – he felt justified in thinking of them that way – didn't fail him. Within half a minute he heard the sounds and felt the energy of dozens of transmutations, all with the same goal in mind – enclose the raging fires in front of Fort Briggs! The wall grew up along both sides; ten feet, then twenty, thirty then forty – taller than any tree on that plain – and angling inward at its peak.
The State Alchemists of Amestris worked in harmony, building the largest wall Ed had ever seen – rivaling Roy's wall of fire in size, if not in difficulty. Nothing could top that. Get out of there, Mustang.
Ed kept pouring everything he had into the wall until he heard a voice crackling over the radio. Then another. "Wall complete to the Eastern side. It reaches across the gap to Briggs!" "Pass covered." "Central portion complete." "Touching the wall to the West." "Top of the Cliffs secure."
On the other side, the heat and roar of the flames were only a sound, no longer tangible or visible; but Ed could hear the trees cracking and breaking; hot rocks exploding. He stood, wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand, and stepped backwards.
"So," Kane asked as he came up beside him. "You think the Drachmans got the message?"
Ed couldn't help the half-smile that quirked his lips. "Bright and clear." The smile faded. "I hope Mustang and his team got out."
"Me too," Kane sighed. "Your daughter looked like she was going to lose it when I passed her a minute ago."
"What's she doing out here?" Ed turned and gave Kane a sharp look. Sara was supposed to be resting.
"I couldn't stop her," Kane commented unapologetically. "You called for everyone and she came. She was conscious when I left her, just tired and dizzy."
There was something else. "What aren't you telling me?"
Kane looked startled then sighed. "I figured she'd told you. Heimler volunteered to go as part of the team last night."
"He what?" Ed spun around fully, not quite believing his ears for a moment. He hadn't misheard though, not judging from Kane's expression. "I'm going to kill that boy when I find him," he growled. Running off after Mustang and leaving Sara laid up and worried? Ed pushed past Kane without another word, heading in the direction the other man had come from. It led back to the road that led up the slope back to the top of the cliffs.
Around him everyone was falling back. It wasn't until he reached the top that Ed turned one more time to look behind him. From the top of the cliffs, he could still see over the alchemist-made earthen wall. It seemed to stand strong against the ever-spreading fire that was quickly turning more to orange and yellow, sending up billows of white and gray smoke as anything available burned completely.