Chapter 11 – Rebel Hideout
Annette leaned against a tree for a moment, taking a brief reprieve in the shade. The hill was steeper than she expected, but she saw the top ahead of her. From this distance, it didn't seem far. Her legs protested though, screaming out in pain from the days of fruitless searching.
Two weeks. Two whole weeks had passed since they started looking for Felix. Each day without him meant another fitful night of little sleep for Annette, who would try for an hour to rest, then spend the rest of the night going over maps of the surrounding area to plan out where to look in the morning. She would've fled out into the night to keep searching for him were it not for Ingrid dragging her forcefully back to the tent anytime she did. Between her smaller stature and weary body, she lost every time she tried to break free of the hold.
After the first week, Dimitri had to excuse himself to return to Fhirdiad for other matters that demanded his attention. Byleth took his place, directing the efforts and the contingent of soldiers he left behind.
But as the days dragged on, Annette heard murmurings among the soldiers that Felix was likely dead. She silenced any such talk all with a glare, possibly scaring them. She hadn't paid much attention to her appearance over the days and when she finally caught a reflection of herself in a nearby puddle, she looked like some crazed, dirty hobgoblin with heavy bags under her eyes and hair strewn about her face.
She concentrated on Dimitri's reasoning the whole time. They need him alive. He's too valuable. So she told herself the same underneath the tree, hyping herself up enough to take one step forward. Then the next and the next, inching ever forward to the crest of the hill.
They needed to find him soon. Ingrid and Byleth had both received reports during the days of more attacks and villages requesting aid. Ingrid herself had to leave for a couple of days earlier in the week to help put down a rebel troop, swapping Sylvain in while she was gone. It was only a matter of time though until there were no replacements or people available to help and they would need to abandon Felix as a lost cause. Too many other people needed help, too many attacks were pressing them in on all sides, and the kingdom was stretched to the breaking point.
She hated and blamed the rebels. They better hope I don't find them first. One of her knees wobbled and she stumbled. Because I'll…I'll show them something to regret. Her mind rambled on, spouting empty and vague threats, all while surmounting the hill and gazing out over the valley below.
Okay, so this is where again? She fell to her knees, her legs grateful for a rest, and unfolded a map from her pouch. The details and outlined areas were fuzzy and she blinked several times to bring them into sharp relief. Several scribbles over regions they had searched and notes of places to check again covered the map. She slowly traced her path from their camp to the hill she stood on and jotted down more notes to herself.
Annette looked down across the valley, aimlessly scouring the surrounding hills and forests across the grassy plains below for where to head next. Her eyes roved over a sloping mountain in the distance, then spotted an unusual sight near the base of it.
Smoke. A thin trail of smoke drifting up amongst the trees in the forest.
She quickly stuffed her map back into her pouch and partly ran, partly tumbled down the hill. Once she hit level ground, she sprinted through the plains, kicking up small insects and birds in her rush.
It was only when she neared the tree line surrounding the mountain that she slowed down. If these were the rebels and she ran head-long into their camp, she risked them running away. She was also likely to be outnumbered.
Annette ducked low in the tall grass and snuck to the trees, making her way to the source of the smoke. She watched her feet, careful of the smallest twig or rock, lest she alert anyone.
When she found the camp, it was smaller than she anticipated. One soldier was tending to a pot over a small fire, stirring some food and tasting it occasionally. Another sat in front of a couple of tents, thinning some wood with a knife and fletching arrows that he added to a pile beside him.
The last two soldiers stood near the edge of the clearing, leaning against some trees and resting their spears on their shoulders. None of them seemed to be aware of her and she stayed behind a tree, examining the situation.
Their armor appeared sturdy and their weapons of good quality, but certainly not of Fhirdiad. These had to be the rebels. The rest of the forest around them was empty. Only these four? That doesn't make sense. Unless they were scouts of some kind. Yet if they were, why were they camping out here? Could they be deserters, perhaps wanting to join Fhirdiad?
More importantly, if they were the rebels, Felix had to be nearby. She looked at the tent. Was he bound and gagged in there? Either way, she needed to get closer.
As quietly as she could, she crept along from tree to tree, staying out of their line of sight. By the time she neared the camp, the cook called from the fire, "Stew's almost done."
"Good, I'm starving," one of the spearmen said, then turned to the other. "I hate being the damn lookout. Hope they finish up in there soon."
"Count yourself lucky," the other said, rolling her neck and re-adjusting against the tree. "I've been on it all week."
The first spearman laughed loudly and Annette took the opportunity to move to a nearby bush on the edge of their camp. What little cover it offered, it made up for in giving her the best view of the camp. The cook's back was completely exposed to her and the fletcher was rummaging around his sack for feathers.
"Who'd you upset to get that?" the first spearman asked.
The other grumbled under her breath. "If they want us to keep a lookout so bad, at least put us on the mountain." She slapped her neck. "By Nemesis, I hate these bugs."
So they're on lookout, Annette smiled to herself. Meaning they're not alone and their base has to be nearby. She carefully drew her short sword and held it ready. If she wanted to find their base, she needed to act quickly.
As the cook leaned in close to the fire and checked the stew, Annette flicked her wrist. The campfire exploded in a burst of flames, throwing the scalding stew into the cook's face and engulfing him in a blaze.
Immediately, the spearmen turned around, weapons at the ready. Annette hurled a razor-sharp blast of wind at them as she leapt from the bush. They smacked against a large tree hard, crumpling to the ground.
The fletcher was gobsmacked by the sudden attack and hesitated a moment too long. By the time he was on his feet and reaching for one of his new arrows, Annette was already on him, sword pointed at his chin. He froze, his hand still outstretched for his arrows.
"You won't be needing those," she said, conjuring a small flame on her fingertip and zapping it at the arrows. They both watched the pile burn to ash as she tilted his chin up with the tip of her sword. "Where are the rest of you?"
He looked between her, the sword, and his tent, where she noticed a holstered sword laid. He smacked away her blade, nicking his throat unintentionally and reached for the sword. As his fingers closed around the hilt, his entire hand and the weapon were encased in ice and rooted to the ground.
The fletcher grunted and yanked on his arm, but it wouldn't budge. Annette took the time to survey the camp. The cook was dead, with the stew pot covering his face. The spearmen were out cold and the rest of the forest was still quiet.
If the base was nearby, it wouldn't be long before other rebels came. Better signal the others. I'll need the back-up. Raising her palm to the sky, she shot a large fireball high into the air, where it burst in the blue sky into a thousand tiny sparks, visible to anyone nearby. One of the pegasus riders would surely see it and bring the rest soon.
Annette turned back to the captured soldier and aimed her sword at him again. "While we wait for my friends to arrive, let's try this again. Where's your base?"
Sylvain whistled in admiration as he surveyed the aftermath. "Go off on your own for one minute and you get to have all the fun." The three rebels still alive were shoved ahead of a few soldiers, harshly ordering them to march. The one with the frozen arm complained about the cold, but he earned no sympathy. Only a shove forward. "Surprised you got anything out of him."
Annette flipped her hair. "I have my ways." His face screwed up and he sucked his lips in, holding back a laugh. "What? I can be very intimidating when I want."
One little snort escaped and that broke the rest of him. Sylvain doubled over and shook his head. "You're about as intimidating as a kitten." Dodging a pebble Annette lobbed at his head, he straightened. "Or your boyfriend. Although, at the moment, I could see you scaring him into a confession."
Her face burning, she angrily pushed back her hair and futilely wiped her dirty cheeks. "Let's get going. The entrance should be nearby."
If the rebel was to be believed, the hideout was in the mountain itself. They had set-up shop inside, taking advantage of some natural cave formations within. Before long, Annette, Sylvain, and the detachment of soldiers he brought came upon the wide, darkened entrance.
"Shouldn't there be some guards?" he asked, peering into the inky blackness several feet past the threshold.
"He didn't say."
Sylvain readied his spear all the same. "Traps? Alarms?"
Annette stepped forward and swept her arm out in front of them, a pearly translucent wave rushing forth into the cave. At it passed through, little motes of light sparkled different colors around the entrance's edges.
"Alarms," she confirmed.
"Can you disable them?"
"Should be able to." Murmuring an incantation to herself, another sheet of magic rushed before her, its green hue smothering the multi-colored lights in an instant. "All clear."
They entered slowly, torches held high, checking the walls and floor for any other hidden surprises or traps. For several minutes, they followed a path winding up the inside of the mountain. Torches lined the passage, giving just enough light for them not to trip, but creating enough shadows for enemies to hide. Sylvain tended to double check the areas, sweeping his torch through them.
"I don't like this," Sylvain said, his torch pointed out before him. "This seems too easy, especially for the rebels' main hideout."
Annette agreed. Even if they weren't expected, there should be more people around. A patrol, a random guard, someone. Yet as they arrived on what she assumed was the second floor, the place seemed deserted.
"Those guys you took down couldn't have signaled them, could they?"
"I don't see how," she said. "They didn't cast any kind of magic. Maybe the rebels cleared out before we got here?"
"Awfully convenient timing." Sylvain checked one of the many tunnels, dotted with scant torches along its wall, decided against it, and pressed forward. "Why leave guards outside then?"
"To watch their retreat, perhaps?"
"Didn't your prisoner tell you?"
"No," she said. "All he told me was where the entrance was. He refused to tell me anything beyond that. Then he cursed me, the king, the goddess, and whatever else until you guys came."
It wasn't until they climbed the winding and crooked path to the third floor, which Annette guessed was halfway up the mountain, that they saw any sign of life. Down a passage, they heard hissing voices and furtive whispers. Sylvain signaled to the others to flatten against the wall, handed his torch to one of the soldiers, and checked around the corner. Annette twisted around him to get a good look herself.
Several meters away, a few rebels surrounded some chests and crates. One, armed with crossbow, was directing the others. "No, no. Leave that one. Get the one with weapons. We need to get the hell out of here now."
"Could've given us some more warning," one of the others said, grunting as he hefted up a chest.
"I don't choose when we leave. I just- Watch it!"
The other man lost his footing and the chest fell with a tremendous crash, spilling swords, axes, and arrows across the ground. As the leader set into the clumsy rebel, the third person jogged down the passage, gathering up the loose weapons in his arms.
Sylvain and Annette pulled back. It was then that Annette realized their large shadows cast on the wall opposite of them thanks to their torches. She quickly swiped the torch from the soldier nearest her and froze the tip, snuffing out the flame. Then she whispered. "Douse them!"
It took the soldiers too long to realize the predicament. Before the last torch was doused, the rebel stopped in his tracks around the corner. "Who's there?" he called, reaching for a torch on the wall.
Annette looked to Sylvain, who held his spear before him and nodded. Spinning around the corner, he lunged forward, his spear skewering through a weak spot in the armor.
The rebel's cry echoed down the passage and instantly stopped the other two from fighting. "Intruders!" one yelled. "Let's go!" A crossbow bolt whizzed past Sylvain's head and he ducked behind the dead body in front of him.
"What about the prisoners?"
"Let someone else deal with it! I'm not dying for them!"
Another bolt flew by Annette's face as she pulled away from the corner. When she next looked, the rebels were fleeing and Sylvain had pulled his spear free.
"Sir, should we go after them?" one of the soldiers asked.
"No," Sylvain said. "Let them go. We've got more important matters to attend to."
He had caught it too, just like Annette. Prisoners. So Felix might be here. Maybe others too. They needed to find them fast.
"I'll head down this way," Annette said, pointing down the passage the rebels had run down. "The rest of us should split up. We'll cover more ground."
"I'm not sure if that's the best idea," Sylvain said. "There's likely others still in here." The other unspoken reason was evident as Annette held the wall, fatigue swaying her back and forth. She wasn't prepared for any potential ambush.
He was right. And in any other situation, she'd concede. They were so close though. Felix was right here, he had to be. She wasn't about to let him be snatched away again. Or worse, executed as part of the rebels' retreat.
"It'll be fine," she said, pushing off the wall, then immediately grabbing it again for support. "If there's prisoners, we need to find them now. Splitting up will be faster." She shot him a hardened look that she assumed combined with her wild appearance to not stand in her way.
Sylvain bit his lip and nodded to one of the soldiers. "Go with her. One of you, with me. The rest of you, pair up and watch each other's backs. If you find any rebels, don't be a hero. We'll regroup at the entrance in an hour." With that, he left with his own soldier in tow.
The passage the rebels fled down soon split off into three other routes. Annette and her soldier took the left route while two pairs of soldiers took the others. She and the soldier eventually came upon another fork. Annette tried coercing her appointed soldier to leave her and so they could check both paths, but he staunchly refused. Annoyed, she selected the left again, then the right at the next fork. And she kept choosing random selections as they went along.
After a while, she was pretty certain they were going in circles, as the diverging paths started to look familiar. She couldn't be sure though. The torches lining the walls were fewer and spread further apart than before. The flames themselves were slowly dying and Annette didn't have the energy to go about lighting every single one. She needed to conserve her strength in case they ran into another fight.
At last, they reached an open clearing, where several passages diverted off from it. Great, Annette circled the clearing, waving her feeble torch at each of the dark passages. They offered no clue to the right way, simply more rough rock and dry air. The ground was useless too. No footprints or signs of any treaded path.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered. There had to be some way to navigate these tunnels. Even if the rebels had been here for months or years, there were times they lost their way, right? There must be a map or some sign that tells where they need to go. She searched the clearing again for any possible symbol, a guide, any indication along the edge of the passages or the clearing itself.
The whole time, the soldier stood on alert, ready for any attack. Annette could also feel his eyes on her from time to time, curious as to the mumbling gremory running her hands over rocks, crawling on her knees, and twisting round in various search patterns as one train of logic overtook the next.
She wanted to tell him to pick his own tunnel and she'd take the opposite end, but didn't feel like arguing again. So she spent ten, fifteen, twenty minutes going over the entire area. Each ticking second loomed before Annette, reminding her of their limited time. She needed to hurry and fast.
I'm well aware, she told herself. The final passage came up empty again.
Just pick one.
If it's the wrong one, Felix and any others could die.
You don't have time. Guess.
I'm trying!
Hurry!
She yelled and hurled a fireball of frustration down a passage, watching it explode a few dozen yards away and lighting up a split in the path. At least now she had a little idea as to that tunnel.
Then she heard it. The soldier did too. Voices, down the tunnel where the dying embers smoldered. Was it the prisoners? Was her Felix down there?
Her appointed soldier didn't think so. He raced up to her side, facing the tunnel, sword and shield at the ready. Annette strained her ears and listened closer. The voices were shouting angry orders. A dozen at least and coming their way. As they swelled, she heard the words more clearly.
"Down this way!"
"Keep moving-"
"-need to go-"
"-intruders-"
In the darkness, a handful of torches appeared shining on armored heads and someone yelled. Then the footsteps started coming for them.
"I suggest we leave," the soldier said. Annette wholeheartedly agreed.
They raced for one of the tunnels as an arrow soared toward them. At least a dozen rebels appeared from the darkness, armed to the teeth and weapons raised high as they chased after them. Annette pumped her tired legs faster, willing herself to sprint for her life.
Down the tunnel, they came to yet another split in the path, one going left and down, probably back toward the entrance she guessed. The other went up and to the right, winding up higher in the mountain. They needed to head that way, but with how tired she felt, she could barely stand and the torchlight was playing tricks on her eyes, doubling the number of rebels bearing down on them.
The soldier beside her seemed to realize this and planted his feet, his shield raised high. "Go, I'll hold them off."
She shook her head. While he was brave, she couldn't let him die for her mistake. "No, keep going," she said, pointing left. "Now."
He shifted to the sloping path and she ran after him, then suddenly stopped short. Conjuring magical energy in her hands, she lifted her palms to the sky and a thick wall of ice crackled out of the rocky ground. It shot up and slammed against the ceiling, sealing it off from anyone else.
Not a moment too soon. The rebels were several feet away from her. The nearest leapt high, his axe swinging wildly and spittle tangled in his beard as he gave a battle cry. She jumped backwards and his axe cut into a torch on the wall, knocking it down. The immediate area fell into darkness.
The rebels with torches were right behind the axe wielder. Annette scrambled up the passage to the right, narrowly staying ahead of the light. Behind her, a couple of bodies fell over each other, yelling and swearing. "Up there!" one cried.
Annette's entire body was out of steam. Her very weight sat hard on her knees as she put one foot in front of the other, stumbling, throwing herself upward with each step. In some exhausted part of her mind, she remembered her sword. But she doubted she could bring herself to hold it steady, much less take on a whole group by herself.
She searched deeper within. In a tiny corner, she found a little bit of energy. Maybe just enough to take out one or two of the rebels. As she turned around, the torchlight closer than she expected, she noticed bits of rock dropping from the ceiling.
Above, a jagged crack ran along the length of the roof from side to side. A weak spot. She looked back at the approaching enemies, then the ceiling again. If she aimed right, she might have a chance. If not, well, she was dead either way.
A fireball grew in her palm and she leaned back, taking careful aim. Ahead of her, the rebels started to slow, fear passing among them at the building blaze in her palm. Nobody wanted to volunteer to be incinerated.
One stepped to the side of the group with a bow, his arrow nocked and ready. "Stop that!" he said, his voice cracking.
Annette ignored him and hurled the large fireball. It shattered against the ceiling in hundreds of small flames that rained down on them. Once the last of it fell, Annette and the rebels looked up. Nothing had changed.
The archer grinned and drew his arrow back further. "Say hello to your goddess for us, little mage."
Kkkkkerrr-ACK! Everyone paused and checked the ceiling again. The crack burst open wider before their eyes, splintering both ways along the tunnel. Annette realized the problem before the rebels did. She put far too much force into that magic. She spun on her heel and ran for all her worth. Within seconds, hundreds of pounds of rock collapsed behind her, chasing her, drowning out the screams and cries of the rebels fleeing or caught in the landslide.
Up ahead, Annette saw a landing and dove for it, the last of the ceiling crashing behind her and sealing off the tunnel in a cloud of dust and rock. She knelt on all fours, coughing and spitting on the ground, the taste of grit deep in her throat. Then she took stock of her new area.
Like the countless explored parts before, she'd ended up at another fork with two paths. She couldn't keep doing this. She was completely spent and wanted to lie down, go to sleep, and forget about all of this.
That wasn't an option though. More than sleep, she wanted to be rid of this foul mountain. After taking a few minutes to gather what little strength she had left, she chose a random path and hobbled along, using the walls to support her.
By herself, the darkness was palpable and oppressive. Torches flicked in the distance every now and again, like sentry lights. Or ghosts.
No, no, no. Don't think like that. She needed to keep her wits about her, motivate herself. Nobody appeared to be around at the moment, so she started singing, softly at first, and growing a little louder and bolder as she went.
Today's dinner is steak and then a cake that's yummy yum.
Now it's time to fill my tummy tummy tum.
She passed another fork, continuing on the same path. As she walked, she wondered if she was any closer to Felix. Then again, if there's any more rebels like that down here…The odds of finding him alive were steadily slipping the deeper she went.
She cursed herself. This never would've happened if she had stayed to fight with Felix. Or if they kept traveling further that night. Or a million other things they should've done differently.
The main one she kept coming back to was how she treated him. That in and of itself occupied her mind for hours.
Without realizing it, she started humming the tune she told him about that night. The new one she was working on. It was a slower cadence than normal, a sort of gentle piece that made her feel like swaying in a breeze. As she hummed, she started making up lyrics off the top of her head.
The knight travels across the land, at the head of his stalwart band.
He fights for his noble house and king, but where's fair maiden for his ring?
She took a deep breath. Needs some work, she thought, but she pressed on with it.
She waits for him to return this way. He dwells on her amidst the fray.
She paused. There was another voice. Someone ahead of her. Not one of the gruff rebels she left behind. It sounded like someone, perhaps, singing?
She hurried forward, hoping against hope that she wasn't wrong and her singing became louder as she saw a collection of close torches in a tunnel to her left. She skidded around the corner and raced to them.
They long for one another true and I will always wait for you.
She stopped in front of several thick wooden doors, all with barred windows looking into cells. On a hook jammed into the rock, she spied a key ring. Snatching it off the hook, she went through the doors, one by one, unlocking them. They all had chains and simple beds whose sheets were thrown back as though recently abandoned.
When she reached the last cell though, she heard humming. This must be the person she heard. Her fingers trembling, she flipped through the key ring, finding the right one and inserting it into the lock with a nervous rattle. She pushed the door open.
In a corner on the bed, chained to the post by his foot, a shadowed figure looked up at her. "Who's there?" he said in a raspy voice.
"I'm here to rescue you."
The figure was silent for a few moments. "Annette?"
"Felix!" She dropped the keys, raced across the cell, and leapt into his arms without a second thought.