Chapter 17 – Come Back to Me
The imposing and expansive castle loomed large before the rebel forces. Spread out far and wide, surrounded by a deep, unfilled moat, the long front drawbridge already lowered, welcoming and inviting everyone into the courtyard. No different than it was from any other day, where the king presented an atmosphere that beckoned every subject to his doorstep and every stranger to rest in the grand capital. Except that the other drawbridges along the left and right side had been raised up, cutting off all access to the castle from those ends.
It was the most obvious trap that Felix ever saw. The windows faced out onto the grounds, granting views to every inch lest someone try to sneak around. The arrowslits lining the walls and sky-stretching towers had angles available for any route, easy for any archer to pick off soldiers one by one. The oaken front doors themselves were thick and solid, as determined to prevent access as the stone walls around them.
The king was inside, that much Felix knew for certain. It wasn't in Dimitri's nature to flee in fear. But the set-up was unusual. The drawbridge should have been raised and archers already firing upon them. Dimitri wanted to lure them in enough to make them think they had a chance to siege the castle successfully, yet not so easy enough as to realize his actual plan. The only immediate reason Felix came to was that Dimitri really cared for the townspeople and intended to fight to the last.
"Well?" Anaximandros stepped up beside Felix, throwing him an impatient look. "Do we go or not?"
Felix stepped onto the drawbridge, setting his weight on it. He took a few paces forward, rolling his feet from ball to toe, and hopped onto the wood. It creaked softly and the large linked chains stretched, but it stayed in place.
He frowned at the castle. What are you up to, boar? The constant singing in his head kept distracting him and he wished for at least one moment of silence. There was more to this. There had to be.
"Felix?" Anaximandros asked again, trying to maintain his composure. His tone betrayed him, as he was as wound up as the rest of the army to attack.
Felix lifted his sword to Anaximandros and swept it in a lazy arc forward. "Move out!" Anaximandros called. "Bring the battering ram forth!"
The army of rebels shuffled out of the way, falling over themselves as dozens of men wheeled the great battering ram forward. The large log was lashed to a squat hut of a carrier and a simple roof, granting the bearers enough cover from archers. The front was sharpened to a point, perfect for penetrating the heavy-set doors.
They rolled the ram past Felix, setting it up against the door on the other side, and several of the rebels lifted the log from the rear. Shouting orders to push higher and aim steady, they let the battering ram loose and the momentum flung it into the doors. It struck them with a resounding boom that rattled Felix's clenched teeth and rumbled the drawbridge. As soon as it settled, the rebels took it up again. Several eager soldiers crossed the bridge to help, demanding to be first in the castle. They were drunk on bloodlust and their crushing victory thus far, the battle already won in their eyes.
"They're up to something," Anaximandros said, voicing Felix's thoughts.
The swordsman rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut. He crossed to the center of the bridge, scanning the windows again. He missed something out of place, the proverbial pressure plate of this trap, and if he didn't disarm it soon, it'd snap closed and crush them in its jaws.
For Dimitri couldn't only be waiting for them on the other side with a host of soldiers, ready for an all-out brawl. The man was reckless, bull-headed, and as impulsive as a young knight desperate to prove themselves on the field of battle. However, he wasn't stupid. He didn't have his precious professor on hand to strategize, but he had several others in there with him who knew a thing or two about battle tactics as well. They all were trained by that damnable professor. Dimitri wouldn't leave things this easy without some trick up some sleeve.
The battering ram thundered again and the rebels cheered, taunting the king and calling threats. While all eyes were on the door, Felix looked up at one of the high arrowslits. In the dark recess, a glimmer appeared for only an instant. An arrow. It wobbled unsteadily while the battering ram hammered on the doors, creating a small hole.
Once the rebels noticed the hole, they charged the door, swords raised high, axes singing through the air, ready for the oncoming slaughter. Feet stampeded across the drawbridge. The wood sagged and the chains groaned with the extra weight.
The chains. Felix studied the braided chains, seeing them truly for the first time and the braided rope knots supporting them at the ends, so small as to be unnoticed. He sniffed the air. Oil. Black sticky traces of oil bled through the braided cords. Then he realized the edge of the drawbridge on the rebel's side. The drawbridge reached the edge of solid ground, yet didn't lay over it. It was inches away.
The wobbly arrow steadied for a moment, then burst into a ball of fire. Below, in another slit, a similar arrow appeared, again blooming with fire. Then another and another.
Before he even checked, Felix knew he'd find similar fire arrows in the dark recesses on the other side, all aiming right for the rope knots, their archers pulling their bows taut and waiting for the signal.
The battering ram boomed and Felix's heart beat in his ears, drowning it out. He spun around to Anaximandros and shouted, "Off the bridge! Now!"
The scarred man cocked his head in confusion. Felix was already sprinting for the castle doors, pushing through the crowd. "Get off the bridge! Get off! Now!" His warnings fell on deaf ears. The army's cheering was too loud, the shouts around the battering ram too great.
The men released the log again. It struck the door.
As though that was the signal, the arrows flew through the air, striking the ropes. The army raised their shields or threw themselves to the ground. The ones manning the ram stopped to stupidly stare at the commotion.
More arrows flew, hitting the ropes and sticking in them, the flames quickly catching and snaking through the cords, fueled by the oil. Anaximandros caught on and ordered the rebels off the drawbridge, yanking any nearby back by their collars.
Felix shoved his way through to the castle end of the bridge, leaping over the huddled masses. "Move! Move!" The bridge groaned again, a veritable large tree in the woods straining to stay upright as its support was cut away. One of the chains snapped with a crack and curled like a cobra poised to attack. It whipped dangerously through the air and struck the battering ram, tearing through the roof and flinging through the defensive rebels, their shields mere cloth before its force.
Felix flung himself forward for the thin strip of solid ground around the castle and clawed for life into the trampled grass and dirt. Keeping himself flat, he chanced a look behind him. The drawbridge teetered dangerously, sinking to the right to spill all the unwanted occupants off it. The rebels scrabbled for grooves in the wood, their murderous cries for blood now cries of fear.
The battering ram fell with a crash on its side and slid down the drawbridge, chewing up the bridge as it slid across, and ramming into several unfortunate souls in its path. The ram and the rebels careened over the side into the deep gorge below.
Some of the lingering rebels had the sense to shimmy along the bridge toward Felix. By then, the arrows set their sights on the dangling rebels, picking them off with ease. Felix scrambled to a crouch and reached over the edge with others, trying to save their comrades.
However, the twisting of the drawbridge was too much for the seared remaining rope knot. It split with ease and the drawbridge rolled upside down and into the empty moat. Soldiers tried to crawl onto the other side, but it was too late. Felix squeezed his eyes shut as it crashed into the jagged rocks and stone below. Dust billowed up from the pile of cracked wood and the army stared at the sight, utterly perplexed how their winning might had been upended.
A stray arrow whizzed past Felix's ear and stuck into the ground, trembling in indignant rage that it could be forgotten for a moment. He drew his sword and flattened himself against the castle wall, yelling at the survivors to do the same. This time, the rebels followed him without question, their previous revelry replaced with fear and caution.
Arrows struck the ground around them and Felix looked across to Anaximandros. The man was shouting and raising hell on the other end, re-organizing the army to surround the castle and prepare for a siege. They wouldn't be able to help them for now. It was up to Felix to save them from this predicament and end the battle.
He checked the ground beneath his feet and how it curved around the castle. If he remembered correctly, it should lead to the castle's sides, where there was more space to hide and side entrances into the castle. Pointing with his sword, he pushed off the wall and around the rebels with him. "Follow me. I know a way in."
"Nice work, Bern," Dorothea said, dousing the fire in her palm. She grinned at the arrowslit and admired the commotion across the moat with satisfaction. "That should keep them busy for a while."
Bernadetta slumped to the ground completely spent, the bow clattering at her side, much like she did after every battle. Annette felt sorry for her, as even war hadn't made her accustomed to battle. Still, once the fighting started, very few could rival her spot-on aim and the results spoke for themselves.
"We'd better get downstairs," Annette said, picking up the bow. She strapped it to Bernadetta's back while Dorothea helped the small girl up. Together, they carried her down the stairs and to front gates, where soldiers were already repairing the damage with wooden beams, Gustave, Dimitri, and Ingrid among them.
Although Ingrid took as much time to berate Dimitri as she did carry wooden beams and hold them steady while soldiers hammered them in place. "Of all the reckless stunts! When you said you wanted to divide their army, I thought you meant to raise the drawbridge, not drop it out from under them!"
"We wouldn't have had that chance. Their army's weight would've kept it down," Dimitri said, hefting a beam on his shoulders by himself. Annette blinked, bewildered as usual by his ridiculous strength. It took her, Dorothea, and Bernadetta together to lift one by themselves.
He set his beam in place and Ingrid helped him adjust it. "I know you're upset—"
"Oh, no. Upset is when you and Felix nearly killed yourselves in training when you were younger. I'm far past that."
"—But we thinned out their numbers pretty well," he pointed out.
"And given them time to surround us. How do you expect to leave the castle now?"
His brow furrowed at her question while the soldiers hammered the beam in place. Ingrid leaned forward expectantly, prompting him for an answer. "Well?"
Once the beam was set and he thumped it for good measure, he pulled her aside. Annette and Dorothea followed them. "I haven't fully worked that out yet," he said quietly, looking over his shoulder at the busy soldiers. "My first priority was getting all the townspeople to safety. But Annette and Dorothea told me something interesting."
She turned to the two women, waiting for their input. Under those scrutinizing eyes, Annette suddenly felt foolish for her idea, as it relied on several assumptions. They were in with both feet now though and she only hoped that Ingrid had enough faith to trust their plan. "We intend to use Felix to help us out of this."
Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. "How? He's gone over to the other side."
"Not necessarily," Dorothea chimed in. "We suspect Those Who Slither in the Dark are controlling him through some ancient magic. Some type of curse that has turned him against us."
"How do you know?"
Annette summarized all that she had told Dorothea, down to Felix's amnesia, pain, and unusual behavior. "I don't know for sure if that's the cause," she finished, "but if we can break the spell they have on him, we could bring him back to us. Then he could help us escape by pretending to still be under their control and distracting them."
"If it doesn't work," Dimitri cut in, "then we can at least eliminate one major advantage the rebels have. Felix knows too much about the castle layout and our strategies. Without him, we may have a chance of holding out against their army until help comes."
"So that's why you cut him off," Ingrid said, nodding in understanding. "And why you sent Mercedes to watch that side door we left open."
"Precisely."
She seemed open to the idea. "How do you plan to break the curse?"
Annette shuffled her feet in place, embarrassed by this part, and shrank into herself as she answered. "By singing?"
Ingrid waited for more, but when nobody else added to it, she blinked. "Singing? That's it? That's supposed to break some ancient magic?"
"It's the only thing that looks like it might've affected him."
Putting her head in her hands, Ingrid groaned to herself. "I'm going to repair the gates and help shore up the defenses. Call me when this madness begins." With that, she turned on her heel and helped Gustave with another beam.
It wasn't the ringing endorsement Annette hoped for, but it was better than she expected. At that moment, Mercedes raced down the hallway, calling to her frantically. Before her friend reached them, she already knew what it was. Felix was approaching.
Time for part two, she thought, striding down the hall with Dimitri and Dorothea to meet Mercedes. I pray to the goddess this works. Please, Felix.
The curved passage around the castle gradually opened into a small garden shaded by a couple of thick trees. The rebels stampeded through the garden, crunching flowers and trimmed grass underfoot as they dove behind the tree trunks or cowered behind leafy bushes.
Felix crouched behind one bush, checking the tall spire closest to them. The arrows had stopped, giving them a moment's peace. Across from him, an old, unused door stood before them. Farther to their left, the pathway narrowed again, leading to the left-side entrance and raised drawbridge. Anaximandros had already positioned part of his force there, hurling grapples to try to bring it down. Nothing short of a ballistae would work and probably not even then. The wood was much too tough.
If they could get inside though, they could lower the drawbridge and allow the rebels to swarm the castle. Felix held up his hand to the small force with him and signaled them to stay put. None of the soldiers looked like they dared move out of cover anyway.
Checking the tower one last time for any archers, Felix sprinted for the door ahead of him. He flattened against the wall beside it, waiting for the inevitable volley to pierce him. When nothing came, he checked the door, pulling on its handle. It whined on its rusty hinges, but opened with little resistance.
He stopped, letting go of the handle and held his sword up. This is too easy. He considered foregoing the door and attempting to make their way to the drawbridge. But the threat of further attacks from on high and possible ambushes outside dispelled that thought. At least in the castle, he could be certain there wouldn't be a major surprise. After all, they hadn't left Dimitri enough time to set-up anything too elaborate.
Gripping the handle again, he took a deep breath, slowly exhaled to steady himself, and threw it open, stepping back from it. Nothing came out. No soldier's battle cry, no trap sprang to mangle him.
Felix peered inside, the empty hallway yawning before him into a fork at the end. He beckoned the rebels toward him and a few reluctantly crawled out of their hiding spots. The rest refused to move, firmly planted in place like the trees themselves.
Cursing Anaximandros for recruiting such useless troops, Felix swept inside the hall, sword held high. The select few carefully followed, their own weapons at the ready. He scanned the hall, noted a single door ahead on their right, and silently ordered one of his men to open it.
The rebel approached the door, his sword wobbling in his tight fist, and carefully pulled it open. He flattened against the wall, letting Felix peer inside. An old storage room, no enemies inside.
Felix shut the door and turned to his men. "We make for the drawbridge. Keep to the left side of the castle and you should eventually find it. Whoever gets there first, lower the bridge and signal the army to move in. Got it?"
They nodded and together, the group crept down the hall and turned left, Felix taking point.
The castle was empty without all the servants around. Felix would've thought it abandoned if not for the stunt with the bridge. The king was waiting for them. He had to be. And so was Annette.
In all the earlier commotion, he'd almost forgotten about her. Somewhere in this castle, she'd thrown her lot in with Dimitri. He couldn't blame her for that. The king was deceptive and prone to convincing people to join his mad reign. A painful need to protect her tore at his chest. He had to find her before Anaximandros or the rest of the rebel army did. If not, they would…
He shook his shoulders. He couldn't let his thoughts wander. Not when he was in the heart of enemy territory.
Ahead, the hallway opened into a spacious room, with several doors leading off from it in different directions. A few went upstairs and downstairs as well. Felix scanned them, trying to remember which way led to the drawbridge.
"I assume you're looking for me," a strong voice asked. The rebels spun toward the left, where Dimitri entered from another hallway, spear in hand. He twirled his weapon deftly and brandished it before his chest, shifting his foot back into a fighting stance. "Which one of you will claim my head?"
Felix already saw the greedy hunger in his troops' eyes. Their fear long forgotten, the king was alone and outnumbered. Easy pickings for them and if they slew him, they would earn fame, glory, riches no doubt.
"Don't!" That was all he managed before the rebels rushed Dimitri. The king roared and ran towards them, his spear flashing before him.
Felix stepped forward to help, but a second spear flew before him, inches from his face. Surely Dimitri wasn't that fast or his reach that long. A quick glimpse of the king confirmed he was still yards away, about to engage the reckless rebels. Then who-?
Again, the spear whipped past him and the shaft jammed into his side, pushing him away. Felix grunted and leapt back, finally laying eyes on his attacker. "Ingrid."
She stood staunchly between him and the fighting beyond, glaring him down. Daring him to attack her. Like Dimitri, she carried her spear in front of her, waiting for his next move.
For an instant, Felix considered appealing to her for his brother's sake. Give her a chance to see the light. But those cold, set eyes told him all he needed to know. She'd sided with the foolish boar and would go down with him. He raised his sword and gripped the handle tight in his hands. "Looks like you'll finally get your wish."
"What's that?"
He sneered. "You'll get to be a true knight and die with honor. For your king."
Ingrid trembled, but appeared to hold herself back from driving her spear straight through him. She circled to the right, her weapon raised toward him. He copied her, moving around slowly, searching for an opening.
Suddenly, she stabbed at him. He blocked, pushing the point backwards. She feinted another strike to his left and then swept low. He jumped over her arc and spotted an opening. He slashed his sword at her leg.
She leapt backwards, anticipating the attack. He dashed after her, swinging his sword, each blow deflected by the shaft or the tip. She went low again and again, he aimed for her ribs. She rolled under the sword, spun, and caught his downswing.
He kept the sword on the shaft, pushing it down with all his might. Her arms shook under her as the spear sank down, down, the blade inching closer and closer to her face. A little more. He almost had her.
"Now!" Ingrid yelled through gritted teeth.
A gust of fierce wind blasted Felix he tumbled backwards, thrown off by the sudden momentum. From a staircase, he spotted Dorothea with her arms outstretched.
He realized his mistake too late. Never take your eyes off your opponent. Ingrid jammed the butt of her spear into his gut and he nearly dropped his sword. She swung the shaft up, catching him in the chin, and his vision spun. He collapsed on the floor, dazed, his head ringing, and heard a door slam shut behind him.
Felix scrambled to his feet and held his sword out in front of him. He was in another room. A study by the looks of it, piled with scrolls on shelves, books stacked in precarious towers, and a couple of couches.
He turned to the door, grabbing the handle, and pushed against it. It wouldn't budge. He hammered his fist against the wood, shouting and yelling at Ingrid. "Get back here! Fight me!"
"Felix?"
That single, tremulous voice stopped his entire body. His fist slid down the door and he glanced over his shoulder. Annette. Standing in the middle of the room, the light from a nearby window highlighting her like a fiery-haired angel. Her eyes widened, as though she couldn't quite believe it was him.
Time seemed to slow down for an eternity. The fighting outside of the rebels soundly defeated by Dimitri faded away. Annette glided toward him, her warm hand touching his cheek.
He could've left with her right then. Taken her by the hand, slammed open the door, and fought his way through any hell waiting for them outside. All to make sure she was safe. He leaned into the touch and for some reason, had a faint memory of a warm sunny day, shaded by trees, and the pair of them close like this, nobody else for miles around. Only them together.
Then, as though to remind him of the urgent surroundings, the infernal song in his mind chorused loudly, waking him from his reminiscing. He grabbed Annette's hand in his and leaned close to her. "You have to come with me, right now."
She shook her head and yanked her hand away. "No, Felix. You're going to stay here and listen to me. I don't know what those monsters did to you, but you need help."
"They broke the spell over me. Dimitri is an evil tyrant who would've had me begging and groveling like a lapdog if not for them." Why couldn't she see that? Why couldn't any of his subjects see that? He was a terrible person.
Who also sacrificed himself to save the townsfolk. But no, no. There had to be some deeper reasoning for that. Like planning an ambush similar to how he intended to with the soldiers in town, if not for Felix revealing his plan.
An ambush, he asked himself. With old people as part of it?
He couldn't reconcile the differing notions right now. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and all he knew was that he needed to reach the drawbridge before he lost his chance.
Suddenly, he heard a low, soothing, velvety tone. A tone of warm honey, drizzling in his ears and spreading through his entire core. A song. That's what it was. A beautiful song that lifted him from his worries and turned him around back toward Annette. Her eyes were closed and she hummed, her soft voice resonating across his chest in a long-forgotten, welcoming memory.
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?
As Dorothea had told her, she poured every part of herself into the song, singing like never before. This had to work. This just had to save him and break whatever spell was holding onto him. If not, she didn't want to think of the alternative.
Please come back to us, Felix, she silently asked. Please come back to me. He didn't react so far. She only hoped that it was beginning to have some effect.
She waits for him to return this way. He dwells on her amidst the fray.
They long for one another true and I will always wait for you.
The words poured from her lips like raindrops on flower petals, stirring his heart. That's right. She used to sing, he thought. I used to ask her to sing. The greenhouse, wasn't it? He…he asked her to sing because he heard her, all the time. Whether awake or fighting, he was her-
The other ever-present song exploded in his head, each one of the muffled chorus members stabbing his forehead with a thousand knives. He clutched his temples, stumbling against the door.
"Felix?" Annette asked, but he pushed her aside, throwing himself toward the window on the opposite end of the room. Some muted voice shouted through the door and Annette, hesitating for a heartbeat, resumed her singing.
The same song. The same one from when he was "rescued." But why was it having such an effect? And his head. By the goddess, his head burned like it was on fire. It had never flared up like this before. Had Anaximandros undersold the damage they needed to repair? Perhaps he was worse off?
The war rages and scars them both, never forgetting sacred oath
Villains conspire to tear apart, what forms and savors from the heart.
She almost stopped right then. His color had blanched, and he doubled over, as though on the verge of emptying his stomach. He was breathing heavy and scrunching up, receding from her voice. She expected some resistance, yet not like this. What in Fodlan had they done to him?
"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "I'm sorry, Felix." She needed to continue and drive the foul magic from him, whatever the cost.
Through magic words and crafted lies.
He couldn't form a coherent thought anymore. "Annette! Annette, you have to stop!" His mind tore at itself, ripping apart underneath his scalp. The agony was indescribable as the song in his mind raged louder, warring against Annette's desperately. But little by little, her lyrics seeped into his thoughts, swarming and surrounding the incessant chorus, choking them. Choking his vision. All fading to black.
Now tear the veil from off your eyes.
Annette knelt beside him carefully and cradled his head into her lap. His eyes flicked rapidly, exposing only the whites. "No, no, no. Don't you dare." She shook him and his head flopped to the side, his breathing growing shallow. "Don't you dare leave me! Whoever you are, give him back!"She gulped down a sob, determined to finish the song. Brushing a strand of hair from his face, she took a deep breath and bowed her head to him.
They long for one another true and I will always wait for you.