Chapter 40: Eyes of Sorrow
The Dragon's Gate, A Border Between Worlds
Year 1000
Nils was the first to act.
With a harsh, guttural growl, he slammed his hands into the ground and summoned the light swirling within the core of his dragonstone. Eyes thinned into dangerous slits, fingers stretched into deadly claws, teeth sharpened into vicious fangs, and before long a giant ice dragon was towering over Roy's back, roaring at the undead army with the thunderous power of a thousand angry storms.
"Get down!"
Nils's frills flared in warning. Roy immediately rolled out of the dragon's way and ducked down. Goosebumps streaked across his skin as winds colder than that of a blizzard billowed out from the dragon's body, coating the field and Roy's hair in a dusting of frost.
Nils unhinged his jaw and blasted the field with a sharp spray of jagged ice. He swept his head back-and-forth for as far as his breath could reach, blowing layer upon layer of ice over the ground to build up a frozen barrier between the Dragon's Gate and the encroaching enemy line. A wall so thick and tall Roy could scarcely see the sky without straining his neck.
Such an awe-inspiring, if not a bit terrifying, display of draconic power. Roy was grateful to have that power on his side, for once, rather than riding into battle against it.
"The ice will not hold them back for long," Nils rumbled, frost hissing through his fangs. "I will search for refuge among the worlds beyond the Dragon's Gate. You secure the young ones and get them ready to leave." He jerked his snout toward the grove of frightened, wailing dragons, then began his hobble back to the Dragon's Gate. "Quickly, before the shadows try to break through!"
"We'll see it done," Roy said. He cast a nervous glance between the grove, the wall of ice, and the explosive blasts of magic rocking the world on the other side of the Dragon's Gate, preventing Hector's phantom from materializing through the island's humid air. Too many places for him to try to keep track of at once. "Father, can you—"
"Help Nils at the Gate?" Eliwood nodded and whistled for his horse. "I'll do what I can to help speed up his search, and will be prepared to guard him should the enemy break through our defenses on either end." He twirled his silver blade around through the air, testing its weight, before hopping up onto his steed as it trotted dutifully over to his side. "But if you need extra support, don't hesitate to call on me."
"As gallant as always," Lyn said. She kept her fierce gaze fixed on the wall and the faint shadows reflected through the ice, the gold of her sister-blades gleaming against the dusty frost. "Be careful."
Eliwood took the horse's reins and frowned down at her, then at Roy. The soft wrinkles around his mouth were set in deep, growing more prominent the longer his weary eyes lingered on his son. He muffled a short, shallow cough behind his hand and forced his shoulders back, as straight and strong as the old knight could muster.
"You as well."
Eliwood turned away from them, head held high, and kicked his horse into a gallop, riding for Nils and the Dragon's Gate.
Roy swallowed past the lump in his throat, refusing to choke on his worry. He breathed in the heat of the Binding Blade's flames, breathed in the cold chill of his uncle's ice magic, and reoriented his focus on the task at hand.
Grove. Gate. Escape.
"Guard the wall," Roy said to Lyn. She offered a quick nod, eyes narrowing on the ice, swords poised to strike down the first soldier who tried to break through the barrier. "I'll do what I can to help the dragons and guide them to the—"
A winged shadow fell over their heads. A pegasus, its white feathers stained with darkness, soared over the wall of ice and blotted out the sun. Two riders loomed over the world from its saddle: a woman brandishing a silver spear, forged with a wicked blade made for piercing armor plate and horsehide alike; and the man behind her, his golden sword dripping dragon's blood from the sky onto the frost-encrusted grass at Roy's feet.
Like death itself was raining down upon them.
"Damn it!" Lyn cursed through her teeth. She traded her swords for her bow, snatching two arrows from her quiver. "The grove, Roy! I'll cover you!"
The dead man's eyes, pink and murderous, locked onto Roy. Dark mist spewed from his mouth as he hissed a command to the woman controlling the ghostly pegasus. They cocked their heads together, perfectly synchronized in both movement and mind…
Then pointed their blood-stained weapons directly at Roy.
"Go!" Lyn shouted at him, lining up her first shot. "Now!"
Heart pounding against his chest, Roy put his faith in Lyn's archery, in the flaming sword thrumming against his hand, in the instincts he had inherited from his mother, and ran. The hardest, fastest sprint Roy had ever raced, crunching over the icy grass as quickly as his legs could carry him.
And the winged shadow, thirsting for his blood, gave chase.
The sharp whistle of an arrow sliced the air behind him. The undead pegasus reared back and unleashed an ear-splitting, furious screech that tore through the heavens themselves, but Roy didn't risk turning around to see if Lyn's shot had successfully struck its mark. He kept his eyes trained on the grove, kept his feet moving toward the young dragons crying out for help, kept the mantra running through his head.
Grove, gate, escape. Save the dragons, protect your friends. Grove, gate, escape. Save the dragons, protect your—
The dark shadow of his pursuers completely eclipsed his own, stealing the sunlight shining over the frostbitten grass between him and the grove. Still, Roy did not slow his run. A second arrow whizzed over his head and the shadow swerved right, dodging the projectile with another terrible screech. The sound was grating, painful, frighteningly close, but he didn't stop. He couldn't, not yet.
The shadow grew larger, closer, as he neared the first copse of trees. The pegasus's wings were louder than thunder, beating harder than the roar of blood pounding against Roy's ears. A glint of gold shone in the corner of his eye, and just as the winged beast dove down on top of him, descending on his back—
Now!
Roy cut a sharp pivot on his heel. He dropped to the slick ground, sliding just out of the swordsman's reach as his golden blade swung for his head. The sword's tip scraped the air above Roy's scalp, slicing off a single strand of red hair as the pegasus soared past his back.
Panting, Roy rolled back onto his feet and called forth the flames of the Binding Blade. He flung a searing wave of ancient fire at the phantoms, scorching the underbelly of the pegasus and its wings before it could swoop down for another attack. Dark mist and tendrils of shadow burst from the burns, slowing the beast for a fleeting moment, but not causing nearly as much damage as Roy had hoped for. Too sturdy for a normal pegasus.
The dead woman jerked back on the reins, swerving high over Roy's next surge of fire. She commanded the pegasus with expert precision, zipping through the air like a crack of lightning across the sky, evading Roy's flames and Lyn's arrows with swift, coordinated movements almost too fast for Roy to track.
"Dragons of… Dolhr…" the swordsman hissed down at him. "Manaketes… monsters…!"
The phantoms dove for Roy again, sweeping around to his back and striking with both spear and sword. Roy parried the spear's blow then spun under the sword's reach, sliding a safe distance away with the aid of the icy grass. His nerves spiked as the golden blade passed over his face, his dragon's blood roiling at the divine heat emanating off the sharp steel, but he forced his breath steady and braced for the next attack.
The soft, terrified whimpers trembling through the grove, just behind him, only strengthened his resolve.
"Medeus…" the swordsman growled, circling Roy's head like a bloodthirsty hawk. "Morzas… this time…"
The pegasus flared its feathers, and the golden blade gleamed viciously at the swordsman's side.
"I will… strike you… down… for good!"
The pegasus twisted around in the air like a whip and dove straight for Roy's neck. Roy raised his blade to intercept—
"Roy, get down!"
Lyn. Roy immediately ducked down on her command, holding the Binding Blade over his head as a thin protective shield. The shadows swooped down over his crouched body, Roy sucked in a sharp breath, and—
Lyn's arrow tore a hole clean through the pegasus's wing.
The undead animal screeched, gums flapping and hooves stomping wildly at the air, writhing over him as though in excruciating agony. Roy's heart ached—the sounds of its suffering were too close, too real—but now was not the time for sympathy. Not when his family, his friends, and the lives of innocent dragons were at risk.
Fingers tightening around his sword, Roy blasted the struggling pegasus away from the grove with an explosion of scorching fire, sending the animal and both its riders crashing into the earth in a smoldering ball of flame and shadow. The screeching weakened into short, gasping chokes, growing quieter and quieter, until the only sound left in the field was the crackling fire eating away at the frozen grass, melting the frost on each blade into puddles.
It didn't feel right. No "victory" against these twisted, restless souls ever did.
Roy slowly rose from his crouch. His arms hung heavy under the weight of his sword, lungs and chest lacking breath, but he forced his feet back into motion. He still needed to help the dragons, get them to the Dragon's Gate. To safety.
Roy caught Lyn's gaze from across the field. She nodded to him and stretched out her bow arm, ready to guard against the next wave of enemies that dared cross her or her allies. She waved him off, a hint of pride curling the corner of her lip, before turning back to the wall of ice.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Roy stepped through the green of the grove—
The draconic chill, frigid and sharp as knives, shivered up Roy's spine in warning. Hide!
Roy ducked behind the shade of a tree, back pressed up against the rough bark and breath frozen in his lungs. His eyes darted between the bushes, searching for the danger that had set his nerves aflame, but all he could find were the young dragons cowering behind the scraggly thickets. Hiding from the phantoms, hiding from Roy himself, maybe. He couldn't tell, but they were no threat. So what…
Roy peeked around the trunk of the tree, to the field, and his blood ran cold.
The man with the golden sword emerged from the flaming shadows, completely unscathed. Water floated in thin streams from the melted frost to douse the fire at his feet, at his sides, at his back, until only wisps of smoke remained. He reached a hand through the black cloud and escorted the dead woman out of the fire's remains in some sick, twisted display of chivalry, waving the water over her wounds to mend her mangled flesh, and heal her pegasus's broken wings.
Nils's warning echoed at the back of Roy's mind.
They always come back.
Lyn whirled around on them, eyes blown wide, and immediately nocked an arrow in their direction. Sword drawn at his side, fingers curling into weathered bark, Roy pushed aside his fretful nerves and took a step around the tree to help her—
But Lyn shook her head, sharp, short, and commanding. She jerked her chin at him, then at the Dragon's Gate, meeting his eyes only once before taking aim at the undead swordsman. A silent order to keep going.
"Hey! Corpse-rot!" she shouted at the phantoms, letting the arrow fly. "Heads up!"
Roy swallowed hard. Reluctantly, he sheathed his blade and crouched down into the grass, hiding himself between the thickets and the trees so as not to ruin Lyn's distraction. Through the leaves, he saw the ghastly pegasus rider snap her flickering arm up and catch the arrow before it could strike the swordsman's face.
Slowly, dangerously, the woman turned her soulless pink eyes onto Lyn and her bow, dark shadows seething through her teeth. She snapped the arrow in her fist.
"You dare… attack… my love?" the woman growled. "My… Marth?"
Lyn lined up another shot, throwing back a glare of equal intensity. "Ready for me to do it again?"
The dead woman hissed as she cut down Lyn's next two arrows with her spear in quick succession. Fast and fierce with every pointed strike, but Lyn was just as quick, hounding the shadows with arrow after arrow and a deadly, focused precision. Forcing their attention on her, and her alone.
Roy wouldn't let her efforts go to waste.
He crawled farther into the grove, farther away from the fighting, moving across grass, roots, and stone as quickly and quietly as his armor would allow. The young dragons' whimpers turned into frightened wails as he drew closer to their hiding spot, and Roy immediately brought his forefinger to his lips to try to quiet them.
"Shh, shh," he soothed, despite the panic racing through his own heart. "It's okay. You don't have to be afraid, little ones. I'm here to help you."
The wails quieted into nervous sniffles, but none of the dragons moved from their nook between the thickets. They stared wide-eyed at him and the hilt of his blade, tails tucked in tight to their bodies, scales of all colors trembling over the curve of their spines.
Roy drew a shallow, unsteady breath, then cast a short glance over his shoulder. He couldn't see any of the fighting from this angle; he could only hope that the shadows hadn't yet caught on to his position.
All the more reason to make this quick.
"You know Nils, don't you?" Roy asked quietly, gently. "The nice dragon who brought you here?"
The dragons nodded, little frills and tails perking up at the name. Progress.
"Well, he's my uncle. And his sister, Ninian…" He slowly held out his hand to them, revealing the silver ring around his finger. "She's my mother. She asked me to come find you through the Dragon's Gate, to help protect you and Nils from the bad people."
"…Th-the Oracle…?" one of the dragons stammered out. An ice dragon, by the sleek shine of its sky-blue scales. "You are… the Oracle's child…?"
"Y-you don't look like a dragon," a dragon with brilliant red scales accused, thin eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And you carry one of the…the…" Black smoke and wisps of flame huffed through its nostrils. "The bad swords. Like the shadow man."
Roy frowned down at his hip, where the Binding Blade rested in its sheath, and slid his belt around to hide the dragon-slaying sword behind his back. That did little to assuage the fears of the young fire dragon, but the rest of the children relaxed once the sword was out of their sights.
"I take more after my father when it comes to appearance, I suppose," Roy said. He pointed through the gaps in the leaves, toward Eliwood, Nils, and the Dragon's Gate. The portal shimmered with an alternating rainbow of lights as Nils dragged his claws around its borders. "He's the human over there, helping Nils find a safe place for all of us to escape to. His name is Eliwood, and he's been friends with Nils for a long—"
"E-Eliwood?" the young ice dragon asked, shy voice turning hopeful. "Nils told us stories about the human Eliwood. He's… he's a hero."
At that, Roy smiled. "That's right. And he's here to help you, to protect all of us from the scary shadows." He gently waved the dragons over, encouraging them to follow him out toward the grove's edge. "We just need to reach him. Do you think you can do that?"
The dragons looked between each other, then across the field to the Dragon's Gate, tails thumping anxiously against the ground.
"I'll go with you, okay?" Roy offered his hand again, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible for them. "We'll do this together."
None of the dragons moved from their hiding spots—not at first. They mewled and whimpered among themselves, stealing quick glances at Roy as they struggled to find the courage to venture with him out into the open field. Roy wracked his brain for another way to earn their trust, to convince them to leave before it was too late…
But then, with short, hesitant movements, the young ice dragon crawled out of the nook and sidled up to Roy's leg. It sniffed around his open hand, licked at his palm and his mother's ring, then, seemingly satisfied, reached up to gently clamp its claws around Roy's fingers. The sharp edges against his knuckles hurt a bit, but the pain didn't last for long.
A soft flash of light enveloped the young dragon, cold but soothing. When the magic dissipated, a young girl was staring up at him, teary-eyed, through a long curtain of sky-blue hair, holding his hand with a trembling grip.
For a moment, she looked remarkably like his mother.
One by one, the other dragons crawled through the grass to follow her. One curled around his ankle like an alley cat, another changed into human form and clung to the back of his cape. Even the most suspicious of the dragons joined the growing circle, watching Roy expectantly. All looking to him with an innocent hope, with a reverence he wasn't quite sure he deserved.
"S-son of the great Oracle," the young ice dragon whispered, tightening her hand around Roy's. "Please… please help us."
Roy squeezed back, kind and gentle. "I will," he said, and he meant it with all his heart. "I promise."
Together, they crept quietly to the edge of the grove. Roy pushed aside the leaves, just slightly, surveying the field with a slow, careful sweep of his eyes: Lyn was locked in battle with the grounded pegasus rider, sword against spear; the man with the golden blade was waving a thin stream of water from the melting ice over the pegasus, healing the last of the broken bones and lacerations it had suffered from its fall; and the wall of ice…
Roy's throat caught on his next breath. He could see the shadows of the undead army reflected clearly on the other side now—among them, mages casting spells on the ice itself, attempting to melt or shatter the only barrier separating them from the living. The only thing keeping Roy, his allies, and the young dragons at his back from being completely overrun, soon to be nothing more than a puddle sinking into the mud.
No more time to waste, then.
"Listen to me very carefully," Roy whispered down to the dragons. "When I count to three, we're all going to run as fast as we can to the Dragon's Gate. Like we're racing, or playing a game of tag." He pointed out the path: a straight shot from the grove to the portal of shimmering lights, cutting right through the heart of the field. "Keep your eyes on Nils, and don't stop unless I tell you to. Just keep running until you reach him and Eliwood. Once you're with them, you'll be safe."
The dragons nodded. Those still in their natural forms straightened out their backs, stretched out their legs, and crouched down low, prepared to pounce into action. The ones clinging to Roy as humans were a bit more hesitant to revert back and get into position, unwilling to stray too far from his presence. The young ice dragon stuck herself right in front of his feet, the fins of her tail brushing his knees with every anxious swish.
"Ready?" he asked. The dragons rumbled, and Roy started the countdown. "One…"
The dragons tapped their claws against the ground in anticipation. Roy shuffled his feet, hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
"Two…"
The ice dragon glanced back, her thin, pale, earnest eyes looking to him for reassurance, for hope, before turning to face the Dragon's Gate. Something hot, something protective and primal, flared deep within his chest—a molten anger searing through his blood, an icy growl rattling his ribs. I'll burn them all to ash before they can even think about hurting you.
"Three!"
All at once, the dragons dashed out of the grove, scurrying through the grass toward Nils and the Dragon's Gate. Roy followed close behind, keeping one eye on the dragons and one eye on the undead duo across the field, ready to draw his blade at the first sign of pursuit. Lyn was still fighting the pegasus rider in a whirl of gold and steel, both women fierce and unyielding with every swing, every strike, while the swordsman…
Roy's brow furrowed. The undead swordsman was simply standing in place, staring at the ground, unbothered by the clashing weapons behind him. The water he had been using to heal the pegasus dropped into the grass, settling into a small, unassuming puddle at his feet. Slowly, the swordsman knelt down and hovered his hand over the water's surface. Watching it ripple. Waiting, perhaps, for something. Something Roy couldn't make sense of.
Only once Roy's boot splashed into a patch of melting ice did he realize—too late—what the swordsman was planning to do.
The moment Roy's heel touched the water, the swordsman reached into the puddle like it was a miniature portal and grabbed Roy's ankle through the melted ice, tripping him from all the way across the field. Roy smacked face-first into the hard, wet dirt, stars bursting across his vision and blood popping in his nose. A pained growl tore through his throat. Curse this stupid water magic!
Head reeling from the fall, Roy tried to shake off and kick loose the dead man's grip, but the cold, wet fingers around his leg only tightened against his struggling. "Mindless… savage… beasts…" the swordsman's crackling voice hissed through the water. "Stop them… stop them… stop them…"
The swordsman drew his golden blade, aimed the tip down at the puddle where his hand had captured Roy's ankle, and—
Watch out!
Roy kicked his leg as hard as he could, freeing himself and rolling out of the wet patch just as the swordsman slashed his sword across the puddle. The tip of the golden blade shot up out of the melting ice and sliced through the ground Roy had just been laying over, missing him by mere inches, before disappearing back into the water and returning to its master's side.
Roy scrambled back up to his feet. He swayed and wobbled, struggling to keep his balance with the pain pounding against his forehead, with the blood leaking out of his nose and sticking to his teeth. A few of the young dragons cried out to him, squealing with fright and worry, and began to turn away from their race to the Dragon's Gate—
"No! Keep going!" he shouted, his bruised face throbbing with every word. The young dragons whined in protest. Distantly, he saw Eliwood whip around in his saddle at the rough sound of Roy's voice, paling with panic as his eyes took in the blood staining his son's face.
"I-I'll be fine!" Roy assured them (and himself). "Get to Nils and wait for me at the Dragon's Gate! My father will help you!" He turned back to face the enemy and ripped the Binding Blade from its sheath. "And stay away from the ice puddles!"
Fire exploded across the sword's steel. The Binding Blade attuned to his pain, to his fury, to his desire to protect, flaring with flames that burned hotter than hellfire, fiercer than the might of all Eight Legends combined.
Roy slammed the blade into the ground. The flames swept the field in front of him, beneath him, behind him, a wave of fire scorching the grass black and burning out every single drop of water hiding within the blade's magical reach. Even the air, sweltering now under the blazing heat of the Binding Blade, was wrung out dry.
No more water. No more dirty tricks.
The sword drew the flames back into its blade before they strayed too close to the Dragon's Gate, too close to the wall of ice, and too far from Roy's control—he didn't want to risk hurting his allies or accidentally melting the barrier himself, after all. Unfortunately, that meant the blast of fire stopped short of the undead swordsman himself, leaving him infuriatingly unharmed.
And, apparently, no less determined to kill him.
As soon as the Binding Blade's flames receded, the swordsman charged forward across the scorched field, his sword gleaming gold even through the haze of smoke between them. Steam sizzled up from the shadow's wet boots as he tore across the blackened grass, steps swift and fast-approaching.
Gritting his teeth, Roy wiped away what blood and sweat he could from his face. A one-on-one fight, then, a duel between swords. If that's what the dead man wanted, then Roy would give it to him.
To protect them. To protect everyone.
Roy took the Binding Blade into both hands, breathing in its flames, its power. The sword pumped a quick burst of healing magic into his body, easing the pain and the weariness aching through him, then lit up with a fearsome red, ready to be put to use once more.
Roy slashed the air with one, two, three waves of fire aimed directly at his enemy's approach. The dead man was quick to react, hurdling over the first bout, rolling under the second, and slicing a path through the third on his way back up, barely slowing down. He was on Roy within just a few strides, swinging, striking, slashing with deadly speed and precision.
Roy settled into a defensive rhythm, focusing on dodging, guarding, blocking in their dangerous dance of blades. The swordsman was quicker than Roy, taller, and had the advantage of a longer reach. That made pulling off a successful counterattack much more difficult, so for now he bided his time, waiting for the right opening, trying to avoid being skewered on the end of his opponent's golden blade.
"Must save… Altea…" the swordsman muttered, aiming a thrust at Roy's chest that Roy caught on the edge of his own blade. "Must stop… the Shadow Dragon… stop him… stop them…"
"They're just kids!" Roy ducked under another swing and swept the swordsman's legs, hoping to catch his foot with his ankle and throw him off balance, but the swordsman sidestepped the move with ease. "They're no danger to—"
"Monsters…" the swordsman hissed. He feinted left, a flickering blur of dark energy against the smoke rising from the field. "Just… like… you."
On his next step, the man slashed his blade upward in a long, golden arc, grazing Roy's cheek with the tip of the sword before Roy could raise his own weapon to intercept. The cut burned into his face, down to the bone, setting Roy's blood aflame with a pain too terrible, too agonizing to name. Another growl clawed out of his chest, mind fogging over as his more primal instincts urged him to abandon his sword training, his careful patience. Screaming at him to fight fight fight—
The swordsman brought the golden blade down hard on Roy's head, but Roy sprung forward, rolling around the strike to the swordsman's back. The Binding Blade flared red, burning with fire and rage, as Roy threw a heavy, vicious swing at the swordsman's neck. All too quickly the swordsman spun around and blocked the flaming sword with his divine blade, the two weapons meeting with a sharp, deafening screech, steel singing against steel. Deadlocked.
"Mindless… savage… beast." The swordsman tried to shove Roy back by pushing down on the blades, but Roy dug his heels into the scorched earth and refused to give. "I will… stop you… stop all of… them…"
Roy bared his teeth, straining against the swordsman's strength. The pain in his cheek flared as the tip of the golden blade neared his face again, pushing closer and closer and closer until its divine heat was sizzling over his skin. Roy squeezed his eyes shut, drawing as much power as he could out of the Binding Blade, feeding the sword his own quintessence, fighting for something, anything, to help him protect his allies from the phantom's wrath. Protect his father, his uncle, his friends, the young dragons. Help me stop him, help me protect them—
The Binding Blade thrummed in his hand, attuning to his desperation. Its flames flashed white, and the blazing, furious heat of its steel gentled into a soft warmth reminiscent of healing magic. The white fire flared off the blade and licked at the swordsman, trying to burn away the wisps of shadow wreathed around his head. The darkness clinging to his face sputtered like a dying spark.
And for the briefest moment, the soulless pink eyes of the swordsman turned frightened, desperate…
Blue.
"…H… e… lp… m… e…"The phantom spoke through wet, choked gurgles, like a drowning man begging for his life. A harrowing, chilling sound that rattled Roy to the very core. "I… ca… n… t… st… op…"
The swordsman convulsed, arms twitching and dropping to his sides, ripples running through his flickering image like the wind over an angry lake. Panting hard, Roy staggered back with his sword raised. His brows furrowed into a tight line. What… what was happening to the man?
Fight fight fight, his primal blood urged, finish it now! Roy could do it. The shadow was struggling with himself, his guard was down—the opening Roy had been waiting for. He could put an end to the swordsman's dragon hunting right here and now, or at the very least injure him enough to hopefully slow him down for a while.
But…it just…
It didn't feel right. Nothing about this felt right, not at all.
"I… do… n… t… wa… n… t… to… h-hu…" Tears pooled in those haunted blue eyes as the shadows crept back around the swordsman's face, burrowing into his translucent flesh. "Hu… r… t… th… em… p… l…ea …s—agh!"
An enraged screech of pain, of gut-wrenching agony, ripped through the swordsman as a silver blade was thrust into his back.
Eliwood's silver blade.
"Stay away from my son!" Eliwood's face was flushed with fury, his grip on his sword white-knuckled as he ripped it out of the dead man's body. Tendrils of darkness seeped out of the hole his blade left behind, coiling up the swordsman's arms, his neck, his face.
The blue in his eyes snapped back to lifeless pink.
Roy's stomach sank. "Father, wait—!"
"…Monsters…" the swordsman hissed. "Must…stop them…!"
The swordsman swiveled on his heel, swinging his golden sword at Eliwood and his steed with incredible speed—even with the jagged hole carved into his chest. Eliwood blocked the strike with his silver, tugging on the reins with his free hand to veer his horse out of the swordsman's reach. And behind him…
The young ice dragon was crouched down low, lying in wait behind the horse's hooves. As soon as Eliwood moved out of the way, she blasted the undead swordsman's feet with her frost breath, freezing his legs to the ground and encasing the lower half of his golden blade in a block of ice. The swordsman attempted to lurch at her, but the ice around his legs held him firmly in place.
(With the scorched earth and the sweltering heat, though, it likely would not be able to keep him trapped there for long)
"Roy, let's go!" Eliwood cantered over to Roy's side, sticking out his hand for his son to take. "The Dragon's Gate is almost ready. Come on—before he breaks free!"
Roy frowned at the phantom trapped in the ice. The blue, sorrowful eyes, the drowning voice pleading for help, the pain poisoning his screams, it all haunted his memory. It buried deep into Roy's bones, a chill he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.
But even so, Roy couldn't stay to try to figure out what it all meant. Not with the safety of his people on the line.
He sheathed the Binding Blade, grabbed his father's hand, and swung up into the saddle. The young ice dragon scurried over to join them and jumped up into Roy's arms (much to the horse's chagrin, if the terse snorts were anything to go by). She curled up against his chest like a large, scaled puppy as Eliwood kicked the horse into a gallop, riding hard for the Dragon's Gate.
"We came to save you from the shadow man, Oracle-Child!" the dragon chirped, beaming up at him and wagging her tail. "Like heroes!"
"Y-yes… thank you…" Roy sighed and squinted through the haze of smoke behind them, only barely able to see the wall of ice through the thick of it. "What about Lady Lyndis, Father? She's still—"
"Petra will retrieve her," Eliwood said. The shadow of her wyvern passed over their heads, flying in the opposite direction of their gallop. "Which means we need to get out of here quickly. Petra is the main reason we've been successful in keeping Hector confined to the temple, because he…" His shoulders stiffened under his cloak, wrinkling the weathered fabric. "He seems to be afraid of her wyvern."
Roy frowned at his father's back. "Because of Bern?"
"Most likely." The clopping of the horse's hooves reached green grass and cleaner air, moving into a part of the field that the Binding Blade's flames hadn't touched. "But with her gone from the temple, it's only a matter of time before he starts to become a problem again."
A problem. Roy bit down on the inside of his cheek. Was that all the phantoms were? A problem?
Eliwood's horse skidded to a sharp stop as they neared the Dragon's Gate. The young ice dragon hopped out of Roy's arms and hurried through the grass to regroup with the rest of her brethren, who had all taken to hiding under Nils's massive tail. Echoes of fire and lightning resounded from deep within the portal, where Lilina and Odin worked to keep Hector from fully forming through the island temple's humidity.
"What's the situation, Nils?" Eliwood asked. He slid out of the saddle and helped Roy back down to solid ground, leaning down to treat his son's wounds. "How close are we to getting out of here?"
"Almost finished." Nils dug a single claw into the bottom panel of one of the pillars framing the Dragon's Gate, etching a thin, curved symbol into the stone. "One last change to the runes and we should… should…"
The dragon's voice cut into a low, protective growl as he noticed the blood and bruises discoloring Roy's face. His red eyes sharpened, glazing over with a flash of draconic fury.
"Who hurt you?" Nils stomped his front foot down with such great force it caused the earth to tremble. The young dragons snapped and hissed along with him, as though resonating with his rising anger. "Who hurt my sister's—"
"Easy, Nils," Eliwood said, keeping his voice quiet and calm. "Focus. I'll take care of Roy while you make the final adjustments to the Dragon's Gate, okay? The best way to protect your sister's son is to help him escape."
"R-right…" Nils shook his head and loosened his aggressive posture. His eyes blinked back to their natural, softer red. "Sorry, Lord Eliwood. The runes tying the portal to the Dragon's Gate in Elibe just need to be changed here, and here, I think…"
Nils scratched a few more symbols into the stone pillars. Once the final mark was carved into place, the line of runes arching along the border of the Dragon's Gate lit up with green fire, emitting a soft, pleasant hum that sent tingles down Roy's spine. The portal within darkened at the edges, and the image of the Dread Isle, their connection to Elibe, began to fade away in time with the slow melody.
"Lilina!" Nils called out. "And—er—other person! Jump through the Dragon's Gate, before it closes!"
Nodding, Lilina shut the Forblaze tome and tucked it under her arm. She tugged on Odin's elbow, pulling him closer to the Dragon's Gate with cautious but hurried steps. The shifting vapor over their heads hissed at their retreat, each bead of water smashing together to stitch the faint outline of Hector's shadow.
"Where are… you going… Lilina?" Hector's voice growled, his faded mouth pulling back into a scowl. "Back to that… pathetic… boy? His… weak… good-for-nothing… father?!"Lightning lashed around his visage, around the imposing axehead of Armads materializing at his side. "You would… abandon me… too?!"
Lilina mumbled a flurry of apologies under her breath and flung herself through the Dragon's Gate. Roy caught her as she stumbled out, helping her regain her footing. She clung to his arms, her knees threatening to buckle, her hair matted with sweat, her cheeks stained with tears.
"Close it! Close it!" Odin scrambled through the Dragon's Gate after her, arms flailing. "I think we made him mad! Really, really mad!"
"Stand back!" Nils raised his claws over the portal. Dragon and phantom locked eyes, fierce red meeting soulless pink, the sparks of lightning running along Hector's axeblade crackling the air between them. Then, those dead eyes flicked to Roy, narrowing dangerously, as Hector's shadow stepped back into the mist swirling behind him.
Nils slashed through the image reflected through the Dragon's Gate. The green fire shining from within the runes flared, the humming quieted into faint whispers, and the portal went dark. Dull. Empty.
Their connection to the Dread Isle—and the world of Elibe itself—had been cut off completely.
With Hector out of sight, Lilina's heavy breathing broke into soft, quiet sniffles. "It's not him," she whispered. "It's not him, it's not him, it's not him…" Roy held her close, offering what little comfort he could, swallowing hard against the palpable grief flowing through her tears.
(Swallowing hard against the horrifying thought that, perhaps, just like the undead swordsman, there remained a piece of Hector trapped beneath all those terrible shadows. Alone, and in pain.
He chose to keep that thought to himself, for now.)
"Quickly," Nils said, "we need to choose a world to escape to." He whistled along to the same sweet melody being sung by the runes using his fangs and nostrils, playing the wind like a flute. The green flames flashed, and several small circles popped across the surface of the Dragon's Gate portal, each reflecting an image of a world connected to the astral plane.
"Choose the safest one," Eliwood said, tapping his foot, fingers twitching anxiously around his sword. "Whichever one will stop the enemy from following us."
Roy took a slow, careful survey of the field behind them, heart racing as he glanced over his shoulder. He didn't see any sign of the flickering phantoms through the field's smoke—not yet, at least—nor any sign of moisture or water vapor being ripped out of the sky to summon the enemy forth.
…But he didn't see any sign of Petra or Lyn, either.
"The best option would be somewhere without water," Nils said, whistling again to pull a select few circles to the forefront of the Dragon's Gate, "like a desert. But that would leave us without water ourselves—or, likely, without many resources at all. That will not do." He tossed his head to the side, and the circles shimmering with sand disappeared from sight. "There are a few worlds I found with Dragon's Gates of their own, which could be—"
"Yes! There!" Odin sprang up to the portal's edge and jabbed his finger at one of the floating circles, one that depicted a stone archway similar to the one they stood before now. "Nohr, that's where we came from. My friends set up a military camp with enchanted border walls designed to keep the invisible soldiers out." Despite how out of breath he was from his strenuous spellcasting, Odin grinned. "The camp isn't far from our Dragon's Gate, so it shouldn't take too long to reach the protective barrier once we're through."
"Then that's where we will go." Eliwood nodded up to the dragon. "Nils?"
"No arguments from me."
Nils sucked in another bout of air, whistling again to the melody of the runes. The young dragons joined in the song, humming and clicking their tongues with the tune, and as the volume of their chorus grew, so too did the image of the world Odin had indicated. It stretched to fit the edges of the stone pillars, and the picture within began to clear, to solidify into—
Roy's nerves spiked again. The prescient chill in his blood shuddered through his entire body, made his breath catch and his fingers twitch. His ears caught a faint whirring sound beneath the dragons' song, a crackle behind them like static, like sparks of lightning, like…
Armads.
Roy couldn't turn around fast enough. His hand went for his sword just as Hector's legendary axe shot out of the smoke behind them, spinning in a wide arc over the ground straight for Roy's back. He tried to push Lilina away, tried to move them both out of its path—
Strong arms wrapped around him and Lilina. His father, pulling them protectively against his chest, turning them both away from the dangerous axehead as it soared past with a searing lash of lightning. The axe curved back around to the smoke-laden field, scraping the scales off Nils's spine at the end of its arc as it spun back to the hands of its master.
Back to Hector's large, imposing phantom, flickering within the shadows of the smoke. He stood over a puddle melting off the remains of the swordsman's prison of ice, both dead men glaring at the living with malicious intent. Behind them, more pink eyes began to blink through the haze, rising out of the puddles dripping off the melting ice wall.
"Okay, hurry it up, Mr. Dragon!" Odin rapidly tapped Nils's front leg, his voice little more than a panicked wheeze. "We need to get out of here right—"
Nils thrashed his head back with a deafening roar. A roar of unbridled rage, a roar of excruciating pain, the song of the Dragon's Gate completely forgotten under the power of raw, draconic fury. The green flames within the runes began to flicker out, the image within the portal began to fade away.
"Nils!" Roy called out to the enraged, bleeding dragon. "Uncle Nils, calm down! We need to—"
Whatever words Roy had planned on saying next shriveled up in his mouth. He felt something warm, sticky, and wet soak into the clothes on his back. Blood. Wait, blood? Had he been hit by the axe, after all? But he didn't feel any… pain…
His father's protective hold around him slackened, and Roy's heart seized in his chest.
Oh no. No, no, no…
"F-Father?"
Eliwood collapsed to the ground with a weak groan, bleeding all over the grass. Armads had sliced straight through his armor and slashed deep into his side, had burned both metal and flesh with its blistering lightning. Roy stumbled, falling to his knees. Almost automatically, Roy pressed his hands against the wound, to stop the bleeding, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to do.
"Father!" Eliwood coughed. It was wet, strangled. "Dad, wait, just—just hold on. I'll—I'll—"
Nils erupted into another terrible roar, blasting the sky and the field with his frost breath in a fit of blind rage. "YOU HURT HIM!" the dragon screamed, whirling around on the phantoms so fast his tail smacked into Odin's stomach and knocked him flat off his feet. "YOU HURT HIM!"
"Odin!" Lilina gasped. "Nils, wait—!"
Nils completely abandoned the Dragon's Gate and thundered past them, blindly charging into the smoke at the phantoms.
Roy tried to call out to his uncle, but no words came to him. His throat was too tight, his tongue was too dry, his fingers were too wet with his father's blood. Tears blurred his vision, burned down his cheeks. He drew the Binding Blade with trembling hands, directed its healing magic into his father's wounds, but it wouldn't heal fast enough.
No…please, not like this…
There was a hand on his shoulder. They said something; Roy couldn't hear it. The primal rage in his blood boiled at the touch, at the garbled words, at how close they were getting to his kin.
"Stay back!" he growled at them, curling himself over his father's body. To protect. He gnashed his teeth for good measure. "Or I'll—"
"Roy, stop it! Look at me!"
Lilina. She was kneeling next to him, staring at him with wide, tear-stained eyes. Gasping in pain. It took him a moment to realize that he had her thin wrist trapped in his fist, squeezing bruises into the pale skin.
Mindless, savage beast, the undead swordsman's words taunted his mind.
"O-oh, gods…" Roy snapped his hand back. "Lilina, I—I'm so—"
"The Gate, Roy!" Lilina said, cradling her wrist. "We need to complete the portal, before it's too late!"
Right, the portal. Roy blinked over to the Dragon's Gate, watching the flames sputter and the image of Odin's world turn to static. Their only way out, slipping away before their very eyes.
"But without Nils—" Roy flinched as the enraged dragon roared again, somewhere within the smoke. "We can't—"
Eliwood weakly grasped Roy's hand.
"…R-ring…" he rasped, tapping the silver band around Roy's finger. "You h… have… y-your moth… mother's gifts…" He coughed again, pallid face grimacing with the pain. "U-use… them…"
Roy choked back a sob, a few stray tears falling onto his mother's ring. Then, he nodded.
"I'll do what I can to slow the bleeding," Lilina said, channeling all of her magical energy into her hands. "I… I don't think I'll be able to heal much without any staves or vulneraries, but…" She bit down hard on her lip as she waved the magic over Eliwood's wounds. "I'll try. I promise."
Roy scooted back to give her room for her spellcasting, then pushed himself up onto unsteady legs. It took every ounce of his willpower to ignore his hyperprotective instincts and drag his feet away from his father, to wipe the blood from his hands and stumble over to the Dragon's Gate.
He stared up at the runes. The flames were naught but green wisps now, their song no more than a muted, sputtering cough. A sputtering cough so much like his father's—
Roy shook the thought from his mind. He closed his eyes and cupped his trembling hands around his mother's ring, focusing all of his senses on the cold, sleek touch of the metal. Listening to the ancient rhythm swaying through the Dragon's Gate, singing within the silver, dancing within the dying flames.
(A dance like the ones his mother used to perform. He could remember them so clearly now…)
He drew in a long breath, and let the song flow through him, too. He hummed along to the melody, trying to match the same notes that Nils had whistled to the Dragon's Gate before. The song of the runes harmonized with the sound of his voice, breathing life into the green fire and the picture of a world just within his reach.
The young dragons gathered at his feet and sang along, clicking their tongues and drumming their tails against the ground, adding their own music to the ancient rhythm flowing through them all. The green flames flashed in unison, powerful and bright, the portal between the pillars shimmered with vibrancy, and—
"By the gods!"
There were people on the other side of the Dragon's Gate, all snapping around and startling at Roy's sudden appearance before them: a man gripping the reins of a pegasus; a taller man and a woman standing beside him, both sporting the same teal hair; and a strange silver-and-blue creature towering over all the rest, unfurling its thin, sleek wings as it stared Roy down with cautious trepidation—it was probably a dragon, but Roy couldn't tell for certain.
"Who—?" the man with the pegasus spoke first. A single yellow eye narrowed on Roy, the other hidden by a wave of sky-blue bangs. "How did you—"
"H-help." Roy couldn't get his voice higher than a scratchy whisper. Speaking, standing, it all required a level of energy Roy felt he no longer had. "The… the shadows…"
At once, the strangers' eyes all shifted and shot open at the chaos running rampant behind him. "Help," Roy repeated weakly, struggling to drag his arm up to point out Eliwood's crumpled form. "My… my father… he's…"
Roy's legs gave out. The young dragons squealed in fright as he stumbled forward, so utterly tired, but someone caught him before he could hit the ground. The woman with teal hair. How nice of her…
"I've got you," she said, soft and soothing. "Stay with me, okay? We're going to get you and your father and everyone else to safety, I promise." Before Roy could nod or express his gratitude, the woman was turning back to address the other strangers. "Ephraim, help the wounded!"
The tall man was already halfway to Eliwood. "On it!"
"I'll buy you whatever time I can," the male pegasus rider said, swinging into the saddle. "But my song can only stop them for so long. We'll need to…"
Roy drifted in and out of consciousness, his vision clouded by black dots as he struggled to stay awake. Distantly, he could feel his body being dragged through the Dragon's Gate, could see someone lifting his father off the ground, could hear a beautiful melody soaring across the sky, so different from the one he and the dragons had been singing, and yet, still familiar somehow.
Uncle Nils and the phantoms seemed to like the song, too. They stopped fighting when the song hit their ears, and Uncle Nils even shifted back into his calmer, human self with the mystery dragon's help. Falling asleep under the sweet lullaby… like Roy wanted to do…
"Roy?" He picked out Lilina's voice from the muffled flurry around him. Her hand was on his back, helping the teal-haired woman lower him into a comfortable spot in the grass. "You did it, Roy. You helped us escape!"
Roy's head lolled to the side. His chest tightened at the sight of his father being passed off to someone, being taken farther and farther away from him, being carried into a tent of some kind.
"…Dad…" he croaked out. He wanted to reach out to his father, but his arms were too heavy to move. "D-Dad…"
"They're taking him to the healers," Lilina said, hugging him and staining his tunic with fresh tears. "He's going to be okay, Roy. Everyone is going to be okay."
"She's right," the teal-haired woman said with a small smile. "This camp was designed to keep out those terrible shadows, to serve as a safe haven for people and dragons alike. You all will be safe here with us."
Roy slowly turned his gaze back to the Dragon's Gate, to see for himself if that were true. Everyone seemed to be accounted for: the young dragons, a winded Odin, an unconscious Nils. Even the wyvern came flying through the Dragon's Gate, carrying both Petra and Lyn to safety on its back. Lyn slid off the wyvern as soon as the beast touched the ground, limping over to Nils's side to try to rouse him from his deep slumber.
Once everyone was past the gate's borders, the mystery dragon slashed its claws through the portal and sprayed a stream of water from its mouth into the surrounding pillars, dousing the fires lit within the stone. The image of the smoke-laden field fell away, and the male pegasus rider's song came to a soft close. No shadows tried to jump through at the last minute; no weapons, no pink eyes came sneaking up behind them. They were…
Safe. Safe, at last.
"Wow, this is… huh." Odin squinted around the camp, holding an arm around his bruised ribs. "It looks like you made some new friends while we were gone, Kana. And you all decided to move the camp directly to the Dragon's Gate, to boot." He threw a short smile up at the mystery dragon. "A clever strategy. I would expect nothing less of the esteemed Heirs of Fate."
The dragon cocked its head at him, its silver antlers sparkling in the sun. "Do I know you?"
Odin instantly deflated. "Was our first meeting truly so forgettable for you?" He cleared his throat, hiding a wince behind his hand as he curled his fingers over his face. "Come on, Kana. It's me: Odin Dark, Sorcerer of the Black Abyss, Master of the…"
He pursed his lips when the dragon did not seem to recognize any of his titles.
"Seriously? We met right here at the Dragon's Gate when your father and I—"
"You know my Papa?!"
The dragon slammed its claws on either side of him, shoving its rounded snout into his face. "Where is he? Where's my Papa?!"
Odin, for his part, did his best not to let the brave, heroic expression break. "I—uh—I thought he stayed here in Nohr? With you and—?"
"He's not here," the teal-haired man—Ephraim, was it?—said, crossing his arms. "We've been trying to use this special gate to find him and my friend, Lyon. They both disappeared when this mess with these so-called 'invisible soldiers' started. You haven't come across them in your travels, have you? Or, perhaps, you've at least heard whisper of their names?"
Odin blinked at them, long and slow like an owl. "I think I'm confused."
The dragon huffed and tucked its chin into its chest, transforming into a young girl with sharp, pointed ears.
Somehow, Odin's eyes grew even wider.
"Do you know my Papa or not?" she asked. "Corrin?"
"Papa Corrin?!"
"...Maybe you're confusing me with someone else?" the girl sighed. She furrowed her brow and tugged at the blue scarf around her neck, as though already doubting her own suggestion. "Another person named Kana… who can also turn into a dragon… that you also somehow recognize…"
Odin slowly looked between her, the male pegasus rider, and the flags flying over the camp, an alternating set of red and white banners bearing the name Hoshido. He gripped at the roots of his short hair, looking like he was on the verge of losing his sanity, or that his head might spontaneously combust. Whichever were to come first.
Roy shared a concerned, weary glance with Lilina.
Where exactly had Odin taken them?
Character Bios:
Eirika: Great Lord
—Princess of Renais. A peaceful, level-headed young woman fighting alongside her brother to protect her kingdom and the countries of Magvel from monsters and the influence of the Demon King, Fomortiis. For a time, she traveled separately from her brother on a mission of her own to recruit other nations to help her kingdom's fight against Grado and the Demon King's monsters. She had hoped to free the Demon King's vessel, Lyon, from the dark curse inflicted upon him, but Lyon disappeared before she could attempt it (she would not have succeeded).
—Wielder of Sieglinde and the Lunar Brace
—Relations: Daughter of Fado (deceased). Twin sister of Ephraim.
Ephraim: Great Lord
—CrownPrince of Renais. A headstrong, courageous young man who thrives on the field of battle, fighting alongside his sister to protect his kingdom and the countries of Magvel from monsters and the influence of the Demon King, Fomortiis. After the death of his father, he helped put an end to the invading forces of the Grado Empire under Vigarde and his Fomortiis-possessed son, Lyon. He had hoped to stop Lyon and, perhaps, free him from his curse, but Lyon disappeared before he could attempt it (he would not have succeeded).
—Wielder of Siegmund and the Solar Brace
—Relations: Son of Fado (deceased). Twin brother of Eirika.
Kana: Hoshido Noble
—Princess of Hoshido and Nohr (and Valla). A curious, energetic girl, whose veins flow with the power of the First Dragons. She takes after her father: kind and hardworking; a bit naïve; forgetful at times, especially when it comes to wearing shoes. What a shame it is, that she and the Boy will not be able to join us for the end.
—Wielder of the Blazing Yato
—Relations: Daughter of Corrin. Granddaughter of Mikoto (deceased) and Anankos. Cousin of Shigure.
Shigure: Falcon Knight
—Prince of Hoshido and Nohr (and Valla). A talented pegasus rider gifted with an enchanting singing voice, a voice passed down through generations of Vallite kings. After his mother's spirit was cursed by that wretched song, he inherited her futile mission as well as Cadros's pendant. Strangely enough, he looks… so much like him… like Cadros…
—Possessor of Cadros'spendant
—Relations: Son of Azura (deceased). Grandson of Arete (deceased). Cousin of Kana.
I need to start writing shorter chapters lol
Spoilers for FE14 (Birthright) and FE8 (Sacred Stones) ahead. Not sure the warnings are necessary this far into the story, but just in case.
Next chapter: Healing, and converging paths.