Spark
Ike knew neither up nor down, his ears were ringing, and Tiki's heartbeat under him was flickering. His world shrunk down to only two objectives: hold onto Ragnell and hold onto the dragon scales.
That's what he deserved for losing sight of the main goal. Roy would have plenty to laugh about if he figured out the details of Ike's story.
Not that the king had reasons to care.
Somewhere in Ike's periphery, past the torn remains of Tiki's left wing, approached a Pegasus, but the rider had the smarts to restrain her mount at a safe distance. After all, why should she risk her skin and finish off her opponent? Tiki was on the best way of killing herself in her struggles to ease the fall.
And that bastard black wyvern circled out of view too, ready to deliver the killing bite should Tiki by some miracle survive impact with the ground. Ike preferred not to test the famed durability of the Manaketes.
The edges of Tiki's wings wavered, a mirage about to surrender to reality.
Ike bent over her neck, disturbed by the audible effort with which Tiki forced air into her lungs. "I know you want to transform back," he shouted, "but do me a favor and keep at it while we're still in the air. What're all these blessings from Naga worth if you're just gonna die like that?"
To Ike's relief, Tiki maintained her dragon form, at least for the moment. But the flat earth before Lycia raced towards them with an unchanged, sickness-inducing speed. What a way to die. Where no Pheraen knight had overcome Ike, he would meet his end as a pancake flattened by gravity.
Although his head was spinning, and the wind tore through his tunic, the moment before he hit the ground stretched to infinity. He had so much unwanted time to think about Tellius, the rebellion, and the reason why he had thrown away the perfect chance to end Roy's reign. And after this kaleidoscope of thoughts and images, this pond of conifer green tainted by red and then repainted by an invasive indigo, Ike still found a moment to admire the view.
Scenes and people spun in and out of focus. Here a Pegasus Knight chased after two Lorca, there a Pheraen guard dueled a faceless rebel on the bridge spanning the moat. Rain and debris had churned up the water, and the waves splashed high as though they wanted to swallow both combatants.
And on the battlements above, an indigo figure retreated under a relentless barrage from mace and morning star. The brittle sword the indigo figure held could never resist the might of the iron forces which hacked at them from differing angles and two directions at once.
Such a pristine, brittle sword…
Ike started, and an idea took shape in his mind. No, not an idea, a definite need.
"Tiki!" he shouted. "If you have any control over this free fall left, aim for the battlements!"
The dragon reacted, but no amount of wriggling and beating of wings enabled Tiki to roll herself over. She still plummeted back-first, and Ike needed to entangle his sword arm around the gnarled base of her right wing to save himself from falling. The distance between them and the two combatants on the wall disappeared second by second, but at this angle, they would miss.
Ike closed his eyes and opened the cramped grip on Tiki's scales. Now he only hung by his right arm.
"This is gonna hurt."
With that warning, he kicked off from Tiki's back to gain momentum. His arm remained wedged around the wing base, and on the pure basis of body weight, he yanked the wing sideways. Tiki shrieked with pain but rolled over.
Her shredded wings billowed as they finally found an updraft to glide along with, and she more or less set course for the battlement.
But they came in too fast.
And to make matters worse, Ike's stunt had robbed Tiki of the remains of her energy, and her dragon form dwindled.
Ike cursed.
The moment before they both crashed into the crenellations, he jumped off and by some miracle landed on the battlement without breaking every last bone in his body. His vision was spiraling out of control, and only the lack of a proper breakfast prevented him from throwing up. Tiki, in her human form, crash-landed next to him. The wounds on her wings manifested in deep cuts on her back, but the impact itself hadn't scathed her.
Ike spared a moment to verify that she still breathed before he hurried down the battlement towards the sound of splitting stone and the shrieking of blunt iron on steel.
Lucina was losing ground. Even with her excellent fencing technique, she struggled to deflect the blows of Galle's mace, while at the same time tripping and spinning out of reach of the morning star with which Galle cleaved the bricks under her feet.
The mace struck her sword with the force of a battering ram, and Lucina stumbled. The morning star's chain rattled; the next swing would hit her. Galle stood unaware and with his back to Ike, but what did it matter? Ike was still too far away to engage.
He hadn't ordered Tiki to turn back to now watch Lucina die. The rebellion needed her. And consequentially, if he wanted to accomplish anything with this daring charge against the capital, so too did Ike.
Galle stepped forward for the killing blow, and Ike did the only thing he could to prevent the strike: he threw Ragnell.
The golden sword cut into Galle's arm, and with a pained growl, he dropped his morning star. He bellowed and swung his mace in wild circles, but his movements lacked precision, impaired by the wound, and Lucina reestablished distance.
Ike used the blind spot in Galle's single-eyed vision and sprinted across the last few yards separating them. Without a weapon, he wouldn't last long in a fight. Galle was already reforging his stance.
Ike needed to end the duel now.
He tackled Galle from behind. The supreme general staggered, assaulted Ike's side with elbow and mace, but Ike maintained a firm grip on Galle's wrist, even as the back of Galle's head collided with his nose, and he heard a bone crunch.
Lucina jumped forward to help, but considering the tight entanglement Ike had locked himself in with Galle, it would be a miracle if she managed to tell where one man ended and the other began.
They scuffled across the length of the battlement like a pair of abysmal but overly enthusiastic dancers. Until they reached the edge of the stage, and Ike could retreat no further.
He reeled.
Galle landed a kick against Ike's knee, and they both fell over the parapet and into the moat outside the city.
Lucina sprinted towards the merlon, but the moat showed no signs of either Ike or Galle, except for the shockwaves rippling outwards from where they had crashed into the water. A handful of bubbles plopped on the surface.
That stupid, stupid, idiot Ike. Why had he gone out of his way to help her and even risked his own life? And what if that stunt had killed him?
Lucina swallowed in vain against the lump in her throat. Her hands fidgeted with her scabbard, and she needed three attempts to shove Falchion into the leather sleeve. She couldn't bear the thought of carrying responsibility for Ike's death. Not him. So many others had sworn at one point or another to give their life for her, Frederick wouldn't hesitate, and Tiki would find comfort in the belief that she had repaid her debt to Marth.
But Ike didn't think this way. He saw no use in chivalry, but if he had changed his mind, an early death might be his only reward. Drowned, forgotten at the bottom of a river.
No, Ike had to return to Tellius and walk through the spruce forests of his home. Lucina wouldn't allow him to trade his life for hers.
She prepared herself to dive after him when Galle's head resurfaced. With visible effort and only one arm, he swam towards the shore.
Seconds later, Ike emerged from the depths and gave chase.
Lucina released a shaky breath. Between this, Frederick's supposed death, and the arrival of the Pegasus Knights, her nerves had taken one too many beatings. The thought of slumping to the ground where she stood and curling into a tiny ball sounded all too alluring. But such a weak disposition was ill-fitting of a leader, not to mention the heir of a royal house.
Instead, Lucina took up Ike's sword. Ragnell. Although blood stained the blade and raindrops ran along the ridge, she couldn't deny the beauty of the weapon. The blade itself avoided all unnecessary swirls and decorations, and even the cross guard favored sturdiness over design. A sword to stand the test of time. Something otherworldly clung to this steel, a feeling reminiscent of the trance that had overcome her when she had first laid eyes on Falchion.
But beyond the apparent material value, Ragnell also served as a link between Ike and his dead father, as a reminder of his goal, and a symbol of his dedication. Truly, a most precious possession.
And yet, Ike had thrown Ragnell, a move that would have earned him outcries and sneers from every fencing master in Archanea.
Lucina caressed the immaculate blade. He had done so for her.
She better made sure to repay him.
Ike climbed out of the moat and followed Galle, who more stumbled than ran along the shore towards the bridge. In order to end the skirmish before more blood soaked the plain, the rebels would have to capture or kill the general. Furthermore, they had to end the fight and retreat inside the walls before the Pheraen reinforcements from the south gate arrived.
Lucina held Ragnell tight and jogged along the battlement, parallel to Ike and Galle. With a little luck she would intercept the latter when he reached the destroyed gate.
But his plan didn't aim at a reformation with the remaining guards scattered about as Lucina had thought.
A bloodthirsty shriek revealed his intentions half a second before Galle's wyvern returned to its master's side. From one of its paws dangled a severed arm dressed in the distinct patterned style of the Lorca.
Lucina retched and shut out all thoughts regarding who this arm might belong to as best as she could.
Ike, however, had other concerns. Unarmed, he didn't stand a chance against the wyvern. The creature hovered a few feet above the ground to allow Galle to mount, whipping the ground with its tail and baring its fangs, hungry to taste the flesh of another rebel.
Lucina reached the edge of the wall. Galle paid her no mind, his entire focus rested on the man who had dared to oppose him.
Without wasting another moment, Lucina unsheathed Falchion and jumped.
Compared to the move she had used to behead the wyvern in Persis, this one was twice as suicidal. But the risk paid off. Thanks to Naga's blessing or sheer luck, she not only hit the wyvern but also found the strength to ram Falchion through the scales and into the vital artery at the creature's neck.
Then Lucina crashed against the scaly body, and her skull exploded in pain. Up and down ceased to exist. The creature's stench enveloped her, and leather wings filled her tilting vision, maybe easing her fall, maybe crushing her under their weight.
Lucina felt earth under her fingernails. Dizzy, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Falchion's comforting presence still hugged her palm, but Ragnell lay in the dirt an armlength away. With enormous difficulty, Lucina managed to turn her head far enough to see her opponent.
The wyvern no longer flew. Its talons dug into the moat bank, but to no use. A deafening screech came from the creature that went under in a gush of blood. It writhed, its wings twitched, and then it lay still.
Dead.
Lucina almost choked on her relief.
But the fight wasn't over yet. Out of the wyvern's remains rose Galle's tall, undefeated silhouette. Blood covered his face. A knife flashed. All the composure and cold elegance had vanished from his face, and a terrifying desire to kill twisted his jawline.
In a heartbeat, he would reach Lucina.
Ike was faster.
He sprinted forward and reached for Ragnell. As soon as his fingers closed around the hilt, a blue light blinded Lucina, as bright and beautiful as the birth of a star.
Blue flames danced across Ragnell's blade, a magic the likes of which Lucina had never seen before. Almost as if the sword had a conscious of its own and showed its gratitude over reuniting to its true owner with a heavenly fire. The heat caressed the skin on her face, and for the first time today, the wet cold retreated from her body.
For one heartbeat, panicked disbelief widened Galle's eye. A war horn boomed in the distance. Then Ike severed the head from Galle's shoulders.
The blue flames flickered and died, and only a plain golden sword remained in Ike's hand.
More questions than she could count swirled around Lucina's head, but the wish to lie down drowned them all out. At the moment, she was satisfied with taking Ike's hand. He helped her back to her feet.
Words would have only weakened the gesture. The union of their hands expressed everything they wanted to say, a silent thank you, a praise of the other's fighting display, and a reaffirmation of their shared goal.
And strangely, in this moment Lucina could think of no one with whom she would rather stand at the rain-lashed outskirts of the capital.
Notes: A shorter, action-heavy chapter this time. But we are getting closer to Roy. He's just around the corner now... You'll see what I mean next week!