Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 1 ❯ CHAPTER 17: RIDERS OF DAEIN ( Chapter 17 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

After re-crossing the river, they retraced their steps through the woods until they reached the path on which they’d first parted ways with Greil. From here, Soren led them west, and everyone remained quiet and wary as they searched for signs of conflict. Blood, footprints, crushed undergrowth, lost weapons and armor, or even corpses—any of these could be a clue to finding Greil and the others.

Twice they found a dead horse and rider, and once they found a dead archer draped over the limb of a tree. All three must have been scouts, and Soren could only guess Greil had orchestrated their demise. But the bodies were already cold and the commander long gone.

From the placement of the scouts, Soren guessed Greil, Shinon, and Gatrie had been picking at the larger force, teasing it, and drawing it far from the river crossing. Hours passed, and they strayed a considerable distance west. Sunset was approaching, and Soren wondered if they’d missed the commander going back to the rendezvous.

But then Titania spotted another dead scout—this one with one of Shinon’s arrows protruding between his eyes. “They must have been here not long ago!” she announced.

“Why come this far west?” Soren wondered aloud. “Their task is done, and yet they’re continuing to hover around the main force.”

“We can ask when we find them,” Ike declared. “Search the area!” Everyone spread out to search the ravine, even while the sunlight faded. When no one found even a footprint showing which direction Greil had gone, they regrouped. “They’re not here either,” Ike sighed, clearly disappointed.

“Ike,” Soren spoke up, his tone serious, “pursuing them any farther may be dangerous. I think it would be best if we returned to the rendezvous for now. It’s possible the commander may have followed another road into Gallia.”

Soren had been keeping them off the roads as much as possible to avoid confrontation with the Daein army, and he’d been careful to avoid any of the watchtowers along the border that Daein may have already seized. Because of this, they hadn’t actually seen the battalion Soren knew was nearby. But if they remained wandering in the woods after nightfall, their chance of running into a scout, hunting party, or encampment greatly increased. This was assuming their pursuit from Crimea was still a day away; if it was closer, then lingering here would be suicide.

After a long pause, Ike finally responded: “You’re right,” he said, to Soren’s relief. “Getting killed looking for them would waste everything they accomplished by breaking away. I guess all we can do is trust that they’re well and withdraw.”

Soren relaxed and offered Ike the barest nod and smile to show his approval.

But then Titania cut in. “Ike,” she said, suddenly pointing to a ruin on a distant cliff. “There’s a fort over there. Just now, for only a moment, I thought I saw someone.” Her voice was hopeful. “Shall we investigate?”

“What? Really?” Ike’s face brightened as he followed her gaze. “Yes, let’s go take a look.”

Silently cursing Titania’s intervention, Soren squinted at the ruin, which was caught between shadows and fading golden light. He saw no movement, no lights, no figures on its battlements or in its windows. But he couldn’t argue with Titania’s authority or the delusion she shared with Ike.

 

They hiked to the abandoned fort, and it was twilight by the time they arrived. Up close, the ruin looked sturdier than Soren had expected, but there was still no sign of habitation. Leaving the horses and their packs outside, the mercenaries cautiously pushed open door.

The groan of the old hinges echoed through the empty interior, which was murky with dust and the last glow of daylight filtering through the tall windows on the western wall. No fires were lit, but Soren thought he detected the scent of fresh oil.

The cliffside path they’d taken here hadn’t been significantly worn; nor did he see a single fresh footprint. But Soren estimated there was at least one other path leading to the opposite side of the ruin. Judging from the architecture, this was actually the back of the building.

The mercenaries fanned out to survey the room without straying far from one another. Soren evaluated the soundness of the structure, and he was no longer impressed. Although the fort’s exterior had held together like a shell, most of interior walls had crumbled away, and several of the pillars holding the second floor above their heads had collapsed.

He didn’t want to stay here. The dust looked disturbed, as if people had been here recently. He reached a couple fingers into the nearest brazier and found fresh wood and oil. He peered into the dark room, but night was truly setting in now, and the long shadows swelled into an impenetrable blanket. “It seems as though this place has been abandoned for a long time,” he whispered urgently to Ike. It was only a half-lie, and he was certainly willing to withhold his observations if it meant getting out of this place before they were caught in a battle.

Titania and Ike glanced around dejectedly. They didn’t seem to notice the footprints in the dust. “There’s no one here.” Titania hung her head. “Hm, I could’ve sworn I saw a silhouette, but I guess it was a trick of the light.”

Ike wasn’t as ready to give up. “Let’s take a look around. If we don’t find anything here, we’ll head back to Gallia.”

“Very well,” Titania agreed.

Before Soren could share his opinion on the matter, a sudden muffled shout came from the nearest stairwell. This was followed by a crash, clattering, and yet another shout from below.

The mercenaries wordlessly regrouped. Soren had a bad feeling they were in for another hard battle. If the entire Daein battalion was squatting here, they would be utterly outmatched.

The noise from the basement quieted down, but it was soon followed by the sound of footsteps coming from the adjacent stairwell leading to the upper floors. In response, the mercenaries melted into the nearest, darkest corner.

A small squadron of Daein soldiers appeared for a moment at the bottom of the stairs before rounding the corner and continuing to basement. Each soldier carried a torch, which cast their black armor in flickering light. They didn’t seem to notice the mercenaries on the other end of the hall, but a soldier in the back of the group split off, saying, “I’m right behind you!” to which one of his comrades raised his torch in acknowledgment.

The soldier who’d broken away jogged over to a pile of debris next to a fallen pillar. Sticking his torch into the brazier, he set it aflame in an instant. Then, widening his stance a little, he began fumbling with the belt under his tasset.

“He’s going to relieve himself,” Titania hissed in embarrassment. Although she was quiet, her voice carried. The soldier stopped to glance around nervously.

Soren was about to recommend they make a break for it and escape down the mountainside, when Ike spoke up: “Let’s announce ourselves. Anybody got a light?”

Soren winced at his overconfidence, but Oscar offered a piece of flint. Ike flashed it over the nearest brazier, the one Soren had tested himself. It burst into flame, and the soldier on the other end of the room, who’d just drawn his sword and retrieved his torch as if coming to investigate, suddenly yelped and leapt back.

For several seconds, the mercenaries and the soldier stared at each other. Then he seemed to come to his senses (which was more than Soren could say for Ike). “Here they are!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, retreating the way his comrades had gone. “I’ve found the Crimean mercenaries! Surround them!”

“Curses,” Ike said sarcastically, “Daein troops!” He seemed satisfied, perhaps at having found someone, even if it wasn’t Greil. “Do you think that was Father downstairs?” he asked Titania eagerly.

The sound of boots and clanking metal were coming from the western, northern, and eastern stairwells, from above and below.

“That was certainly not his voice who called out,” Titania replied, as if completely unconcerned. She adjusted the straps on her gauntlets.

“No, I mean do you think he made that person scream?” Ike explained. “He must be fighting the Daeins here. We’ve found him!”

“We can hope so,” Titania replied.

“You’d better hope so,” Soren added sourly. “Or you’ve just brought a whole Daein garrison down on our heads for nothing.”

It was obvious soldiers were flooding into the main floor from above and below, even if the mercenaries couldn’t see them all. They were led by the one who presumably still had to pee and who was shouting: “There they are! There they are!” Most of the other braziers leapt to life, cutting the fort’s darkness into dancing shadows.

Titania gripped her poleax in both hands, and Oscar tested the reach of his lance. Both were capable of fighting on foot when the situation called for it. Boyd drew an axe from the loops on either leg and roared like a wild beast. Ike drew his sword and settled into the stance Greil had taught him. Rhys clutched his staff in both hands and looked nervous. Soren took out his tome and opened to a fresh page, wetting his lips in preparation for a spell. 

The Daeins, now in formation and with orders confirmed, finally began their advance. But the mercenaries weren’t going to wait for the soldiers to come to them. Ike led the charge with a wordless roar. He ran, sword raised, and the rest knew to run with him. Titania jogged beside him, and the pair were the first to lay their weapons into their enemies. Then came Oscar and Boyd. As for Soren, he attacked from a distance, staying close to Rhys and out of range of enemy spearmen.

The number of soldiers spending the night in this ruin was considerable, but Soren was relieved to see that it wasn’t the entire battalion they’d been tracking. The main force must have split, and he estimated the garrison couldn’t number more than sixty. That being said, it was still too many for the battle-weary mercenaries to handle.

Soren could only hope the sounds coming from the basement indicated Greil, Shinon, and Gatrie were also here. If they could unite soon, they may even manage to escape.

But Soren’s dreams of a graceful exit dwindled as the mercenaries plunged deeper into the fort. Whoever was commanding the Daein forces knew what they were doing. They were drawing Ike and the others away from the door and trying to separate them.

“Stay together!” Ike ordered, and they at least avoided this part of the enemy’s plan.

They were fighting on all sides now, and the Daein commander had begun sending soft-footed, armor-less soldiers into the shadows. Three such soldiers had already attempted sneak attacks when Rhys had drawn too close to a fallen pillar, Oscar a crumbling wall, and Boyd a decaying wardrobe (which had provided surprisingly good cover until the enemy soldier popped out).

“Who’s that?” Ike said suddenly. Soren follow his gaze but saw nothing. “Keep doing what you’re doing!” he called, “I’ll be right back!”

Before Soren could stop him, he left the sphere of his comrades’ protection and took off into a side room. “We must stay together!” scolded Titania, but he didn’t respond.

“Do we go after him?” Boyd asked in confusion, catching a Daein axe on his own and twisting it out of the soldier’s hand.

“Hold this ground!” Titania replied sternly. “Ike’s orders.”

Soren wasn’t sure if ‘keep doing what you’re doing’ qualified as an actual order, but it gave the mercenaries an objective. They took a more defensive formation, as if protecting the side room. However, the sound of fighting also came from that direction, and the fact that half the walls in this building were falling apart made compartmentalized defense completely useless.

A minute ticked by, then two, and Ike didn’t return. Soren was frustrated with the young, inexperienced mercenary, but he was also worried. “Ike can take care of himself,” he growled under his breath, followed by a Wind spell so forceful it knocked off a soldier’s helmet and tossed him into the nearest pillar.

The Daeins were disciplined, and they restrained themselves to maintain their phalanxes and formations. Soren wondered, if the enemy commander allowed their soldiers a free-for-all, whether the six mercenaries would be easily decimated, or if the chaos could be worked to their advantage.

Ducking to avoided a volley of three arrows, Soren reminded himself that now wasn’t a good time to speculate. The battle was challenging enough, and the enemy commander clearly knew what they were doing. Soren just hoped Ike would return soon, so the mercenaries could have their commander as well.

A flicker of bright red seized his attention, and his spirits soared, thinking it was Ike’s cape. However, it was actually a woman’s tunic, and the young woman wearing it was currently dancing into the fray. Or at least, she appeared to be dancing. Her long purple hair and the tails of her tunic whipped around as she spun, dipped, and lunged. Her arms, legs, and the length of her sword moved in graceful arcs, as if mere ribbons.

Mercenaries and soldiers alike stared in confusion. Her blade flashed under the chinstrap of an enemy soldier, opening his neck so a ribbon of blood joined her dance. She was clearly no friend of Daein, so the mercenaries accepted her as an ally. Fighting resumed, and Titania raced to support her.

Their defensive formation disintegrated without Titania as the keystone, but they were saved from being overwhelmed by Ike’s sudden reappearance. He charged into battle from behind the same gaping hole the woman had come from, but rather than join her and Titania, he peeled off to defend Rhys. “Regroup!” he ordered, then adding with a laugh: “I told you I’d be back!” He kicked a soldier to the stone floor, and with a thrust of his blade, made sure he didn’t rise again. Titania and the woman joined him from the left, and Soren, Oscar, and Boyd came from the right. “How’s it going?” Ike asked with a haggard grin.

No one answered, but Boyd rolled his eyes and everyone was panting hard.

“Any sign of Greil?” Titania grunted, butting a swordsman with the head of her poleaxe.

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Ike answered, trading a few blows with an axman.

“And who is this?” Oscar asked softly, glancing at the newcomer. Just then, a halberdier shrieked and raised his spear in a charge. Oscar lunged and easily pierced his jugular with the tip of his lance. The body flew forward with its remaining momentum, but Soren got out of the way.

“This is Mia,” Ike announced. “She’s fighting with us. She says the Commander saved her, so that means he’s close.”

The swordswoman smiled and waved excitedly. “Good to meet ya!”

Two more halberdiers started hollering and charged blindly (apparently not having noticed the fate of their comrade who’d tried the same tactic). Boyd hacked one in the knee, and Soren finished him where he fell. Titania took care of the other one, although it earned her a nasty gash on her upper arm. Rhys, who stood at the center of the group, rushed to repair the damage.

They were ready for another wave, but someone called over the battle: “Halt! Stand down!” It was a woman’s voice, and it came from the darkness at the end of the hall (or at least, the shambles of what was once a hall). The nearest soldiers fell back slightly, and Ike raised a hand to signal the mercenaries not to pursue. They stood tensely, taking a moment to catch their breath.

A bark of humorless laughter split the air. “Found you at last,” continued the voice. “You provided more entertainment than I thought you would.”

Soren squinted and saw an armored woman with emerald hair meander into the light of a brazier. But in a flash, she struck the fire with the head of her spear, and it snuffed out. Clearly hers was no ordinary weapon.

“Who are you?” Ike demanded.

“Me?” the voice asked from within the folds of darkness. “I am General Petrine, and my arrival marks your doom. Lament your fortune, dear children, for all hope is lost. You will not leave this place alive.”

The name sounded familiar. General Petrine… Soren remembered the Mercenaries of Fayre speaking about her one night. “Petrine,” he wondered aloud. This could be very bad, he thought. “Of the Four Riders?”

“Do you know her, Soren?” Ike asked without taking his eyes from the soldiers surrounding them.

Soren quickly reported what he knew: “She may be one of the four generals who are King Daein’s most trusted confidents. She is said to wield a flame lance of terrible arcane might.”

Petrine laughed again, and the sound was closer. “You’ve heard of me? Why, I’m flattered.” She appearing in the light of another brazier, and the flames seemed to arc unnaturally toward her. “I’ll try to make this easy on all of you. Give me the princess, and do it now! If I roast the girl along with you curs, I won’t be able to present her head to His Majesty.”

“Sorry to tell you this,” Ike explained smartly, “but the princess isn’t here. She’s been in Gallia for quite some time now.”

“What nonsense is that?” she scoffed, although she did appear surprised and perhaps a little worried. “Do you expect me to believe you? There’s no way mercenary scum like you could get past my troops!”

Ike was about to reply, when another voice boomed in answer: “They say that blind arrogance sows the field of its own destruction… Something tells me they were talking about you.” It was Greil’s voice, and it was coming from a room on the western side of the hall

The Daein soldiers scrambled to reform their ranks between General Petrine and this new threat as well as form a barrier between Greil’s company and Ike’s company. “Who-” Petrine growled.

Soren could see the commander’s head through a gap between the soldiers. Flanking him were Shinon and Gatrie. Greil walked forward and smashed his axe into the first soldier he encountered, killing him without even slowing his pace. Fighting immediately resumed.

“Father!” Ike called, running toward Greil heedless of the soldiers between them. The mercenaries fell into battle again, rushing to defend Ike and plow a lane through the Daeins.

Petrine, meanwhile, was quick to disappear. When the mercenaries had successfully reunited, her voice called from much farther back, near the northern stairwell. “Halt!” she cried, and her soldiers fell back to regroup.

Greil ignored Petrine, addressing Ike instead. “What’re you doing back here, you dumb pup?”

Ike seemed to catch his father’s game and turned his back to Petrine. “We got the princess safely into Gallia. When you didn’t rejoin us, we decided to look for you. The mission wouldn’t be complete until you returned.”

Greil shook his head. “What am I to do with you? Still, you did well. Good work, Ike.”

“Ha!” Petrine exclaimed furiously. She struck the ground with the butt of her lance, causing a shower of sparks. Shinon eyed her while notching an arrow, but she was still too far away and there were too many soldiers between them. “Ignoring me proves you’ve got more guts than common sense. So you are the commander, eh?” She made a distinctly unimpressed sound in her throat. “And here I was waiting for some great hero. You’re just another sell-sword.”

“Am I?” Greil asked, surprised. He rubbed his chin as if the notion had never occurred to him. Boyd stifled a chuckle. Titania beamed proudly.  

“Ha ha,” Petrine laughed mockingly. Her features stretched into an awful leer. “You know, I think I’ll keep you. His Majesty, well… Let’s just say he enjoys strong men. Yes, I do think you’ll make a grand souvenir.”

Greil put his hand up to cover the side of his mouth and fake-whispered to Ike. “I’m blushing.”

“You don’t have to come along quietly, but I must have you alive. Dead men have no value, after all.” Petrine signaled for the battle to resume once again.

Ike and Greil continued to banter with Petrine while they fought, but Soren stopped listening. A large knight was advancing on him, and his Wind spells hardly scratched his armor.

Oscar jogged forward and sidestepped around the knight to draw his attention, which was a relief. While they traded blows, Soren looked for an opening, but there simply was none. A moment later, the newcomer—Mia—ran up and grasped his arm. Not accustomed to being touched, Soren jerked away and had to bite his tongue not to send a Wind spell flying in her face.

Mia didn’t seem to realize how close she was to accidental death, and her smile was still firmly affixed to her face. She was holding something out to him. “You must be Soren, right? That Ike fella said to give this to you.”

Soren was confused by this woman, and it wasn’t due to her cheerful demeaner in the midst of battle. She was fully facing him now, and there was no way she couldn’t see the mark on his forehead. And yet her eyes and grin were still wide, inviting, and excited. Soren may have garnered tolerance and even respect as a mercenary, but strangers never smiled at him like this.

Shaking his head, he accepted the old sheets of paper she was holding, which were scrolled into a loose bundle. As ever, he was careful not to brush her fingers, but she didn’t seem to mind and pressed them into his hands as if impatient with his hesitation. “Spells, right?” she asked excitedly.

Soren unfurled the papers as carefully as he could with the battle going on around them. Meanwhile Mia’s sword shot out to skewer the kidneys of a soldier behind him. Soren sidestepped the falling body and scanned the ancient language scrawled over the pages.

“Ike found them in one of the rooms over there.” Mia gestured carelessly with her blade. “He said to bring them to you. Can you use them?”

“They’re Fire spells,” Soren finally answered, gingerly adjusting the brittle paper. “And yes.” He’d been practicing with fire magic for years and had managed to make some progress with the Mercenaries of Fayre. Now he was reasonably confident he could conjure something deadly with these.

Smoothing the pages one more time, Soren tucked them into the spine of his tome for safe keeping. Then he carefully annunciated the words he’d already memorized: “*Spirits of flame, burn the flesh before me.*” A ball of fire materialized above and slightly in front of a Daein soldier. Seeing it, the man tried to run, but Soren had accounted for this. The fireball slammed downward with a perfect trajectory, dousing his whole body in flames. The man screamed as he burned, and Soren could feel the spell draining his energy. He let the flames fade before the unfamiliar magic took too much.

The soldier was burnt raw but still alive, so Mia finished him off with a flick of her wrist. Then she gave him Soren a thumbs-up. “I’d say that works!” she called, before skipping off to confront her next opponent.

Before Soren could try the spell again, he heard Greil’s voice sound above the battle: “Shinon! Gatrie! I’ll distract the general. You two grab Ike and the others and get out of here now!”

“Got it!” Shinon saluted from afar.

“But, Commander! We can’t leave you here on your own!” Gatrie called out.

“Idiot!” Shinon returned. “That woman’s no threat to the Commander, alright? C’mon, let’s go!”

“Move it! We’ll regroup in Gallia!” Greil roared, and Soren watched him meet Petrine’s lance with his axe in a shower of sparks.

“You’ll not escape me,” she hissed. “Not you or your little friends. You’re far too tasty a treat to pass up.”

Ike came running with three soldiers hot on his heels. The surviving Daeins had regrouped and become a seething mass between the mercenaries and where Greil and Petrine had just disappeared up the northern stairwell.

“To me!” Ike was calling. Soren and Mia were immediately caught in his wake, and the others were fighting to join them.

No longer able to ignore the pursuing soldiers, Ike spun around. Between the three of them, he, Soren, and Mia made short work of the Daeins. By the time they were done, Titania, Rhys, Oscar, and Boyd had assembled around them.

Ike explained hurriedly, even while he kept fighting: “My father has somehow convinced the crazy lady to leave with him and fight elsewhere. They’re gone now.” He grunted and blocked the swipe of a Daein axe with his blade. He counterattacked and decapitated the soldier. “We join up with Shinon and get out of here! Come on, don’t fall behind!”

Shinon and Gatrie were not far away, and they appeared to be clearing a route to the nearest exit: the western stairwell. “C’mon!” coaxed Gatrie, “There’s a way out down here!” However, this may not have been the best choice for an escape, because soldiers suddenly spilled up the stairs, causing Gatrie to hastily backpedal to fend them off.

Ike led the others in a support effort, and before long, they’d retaken control of this corner of the building. Escape was within their grasp, but Ike hesitated.

“Hmph!” pouted a voice behind them. “You wretches! You’re not worthy of General Petrine’s attention.”

Ike’s fists clenched, and Soren knew it wasn’t the challenge that bothered him, but the thought of leaving his father behind again.

A man in the garb of a Daein fire mage approached with a small phalanx surrounding him as a personal guard. “I will roast your bones and present them to her as a trophy,” he sneered once he was satisfied he had Ike’s attention. In addition to his high-quality robes, he was lightly armored and had a ceremonial-looking knife on his belt. Soren couldn’t guess his rank, but he could safely assume he was the person Petrine had left in charge.

Including this man, there were only nine Daein soldiers left standing and able to fight. Ike glared, and the mercenaries stood waiting. Greil had ordered them to escape, but Soren understood his reluctance: there were nine soldiers left and nine mercenaries (counting Mia). They were shaking on their last legs, but victory was within their grasp. Even Soren couldn’t ignore that feeling.

But his fear of reinforcements was greater. Petrine had arrived halfway through the battle with additional troops, but Soren judged her entourage had been no more than twenty men. Over a hundred soldiers—more than half the battalion they’d been tracking—was still missing. But they couldn’t have gone far, and this battle had drawn on long enough that a message could have reached them. It was a legitimate threat that should be anticipated and avoided, and Soren had no doubt that was why Greil wanted his son and the rest of the mercenaries out of here.

He was about to remind Ike of Greil’s order, when he seemed to make his own decision. Ike stalked toward the new commander. “No trophies,” he growled, “No spoils. You’re finished.”

Knowing it was almost impossible to change Ike’s mind once it’d been made, Soren ran to support him instead. The rest of the mercenaries were right behind him. Everyone chose an opponent, and Ike’s was clearly the commander. Soren traded gusts for arrows with the last Daein archer, but he kept his eyes on Ike too. His friend seemed surprised when the first fireball plunged down on him, but he rolled, missing it by a narrow margin. “Whoa! So you’re a mage, huh?” Soren regretted not helping train Ike to better avoid and defend against spells, but he would have to learn on his feet now.

“I am, vermin,” the commander replied haughtily, “and I will see you burn to cinders!”

“We’ll see about that,” Ike returned, trying to close the distance between them before the man could finish another incantation. He didn’t make it in time and had to narrowly avoid another large fireball.

Soren finally cornered his opponent, and the next spell threw him against the wall, knocking him out if not killing him outright. The body fell limp, and blood oozed beneath his soft purple hair.

Turning his attention to the rest of the mercenaries, Soren saw that the battle was all but completely over. Ike’s arm and neck were burned slightly, but he didn’t seem particularly concerned. Meanwhile the mage commander was sweating profusely as he attempted to outmaneuver Ike. But they were in close combat now, and Ike had the advantage. He slashed across the mage’s throat, and it was over.

Only one Daein soldier struggled to rise—a spearwoman who was reaching for her lost lance—but a single, well-aimed arrow from Shinon ended her life. The mercenaries let their heavy shoulders drop and released a collective sigh. They wiped the sweat out of their eyes and back through their hair. They testing stinging wounds and massaged knotted muscles. Gatrie tucked his helmet under his arm and plopped down, moaning about the worst fight of his life.

“I have to find my father,” Ike announced after a few moments, making it clear he had no intention of obeying Greil’s order now that the garrison had been defeated. “Where did he go?”

“This way,” Titania answered, heading for the northern stairwell. Soren debated putting his foot down and warning everyone to get as far away from this fort as possible. But he found himself following Ike and Titania before he could find the words.

 

The second floor was in just as poor a state as the first. But the ruin hadn’t come tumbling down on them yet, so Soren hoped it would continue to hold. The mercenaries followed the sound of grunting and clashing metal to a large hall in the center of the building. There were doors on each of the four walls and no windows. In the corners were cots and bedrolls, making it clear this was where the battalion had been planning to stay for the night. But the center of the room was entirely empty, making it the perfect arena for Greil and Petrine’s duel. The iron chandelier above their heads burned with candles, casting them in a spotlight. The general and mercenary fought vigorously, appearing evenly matched.

“Is my father…?” Ike asked Titania, watching anxiously.

“Don’t worry.” She shook her head. “Commander Greil’s the better fighter. He’ll be fine.”

Soren wondered if her claim was due to her eye as a warrior or her unwavering faith. Honestly, he didn’t know who would win this battle. Greil was an exemplary fighter, but Petrine was lauded as one of the four strongest people in all of Daein. Watching her now, Soren was astounded at the speed of her strikes and the complete control she displayed over her every movement.

However, he’d once seen Greil demonstrate speed, strength, and ruthlessness that no mortal could match. The day of the massacre, Soren’s understanding of what was possible had become skewed. He’d always wondered if Greil still possessed the key to that power, or if he would ever use it again. Just the thought of such a thing stirred his fear and quickened his blood. In his years as a mercenary, he’d never seen Greil struggle against any opponent, but now he was afraid of what could happen if Greil were forced into a corner.

“Dog’s breath!” Petrine cursed, breaking away from his axe and leaping backward. She was ready for Greil to pursue, but he didn’t. Both were panting hard and took the chance to control their breathing. “Who are you, man? You look like a common sell-sword, but you fight like a demon!”

“What’s wrong? Ready to surrender?” Greil wiped blood from a cut under his eye before returning both hands to the shaft of his poleaxe. 

“And admit defeat?” Petrine laughed, “Me? Don’t be absurd…” Eyeing the mercenaries past Greil’s shoulder, she smiled slyly. “When you fight me, you fight all of Daein.”

Just then, the thump of boots and armor echoed up the stairs and through the halls, proving her claim. The mercenaries ran to Greil, regrouping with him while Petrine retreated further. The fort was filled with footsteps and overlapping voices, people shouting commands to look for survivors and find the general. Soren’s heart sank into his stomach. Fresh Daein soldiers flooded into the room from the eastern doorway, spilling around Petrine and lowering large pavise shields to the floor. 

“Enemy reinforcements!” Ike announced, and judging by his voice, he was far from giving up hope. “Father, let’s get out of here. There are too many!”

“Looks like I’ve got no choice.” Greil shook his head. “This way!” He lunged for the western door, but it was too late. More soldiers entered here, and even more poured through the southern and northern doors a moment later.

“So now, the tide has turned, hasn’t it?” Petrine laughed, but the sound still held no humor. “All troops, attack! Kill them! Kill them all!”

“Hmm.” Greil shifted his gaze around the room. “Looks like our luck’s run out.”

“Father…” Ike bit his lip in distress, perhaps surprised his father didn’t have more hope, or perhaps a secret plan.

These new soldiers marched slowly forward, with righteous anger in their eyes. No doubt they wanted to avenge their lost comrades, whose corpses they’d seen below. But perhaps they were wary too, confused by how such a small band had achieved such carnage. They all wanted blood, but none wanted to be the first to strike.

Soren examined the floor and tried to judge where it might be weakest given the collapsed walls and pillars below. Perhaps they could escape if they stayed closed together and drew the weight of the soldiers to a weak point.

As he considered this, he hoped Greil was devising a better strategy (maybe one that didn’t include falling twenty feet in a cascade of rubble). In the meantime, the mercenaries had assembled themselves in a circular formation, facing all sides, with Rhys in the center. Soren noticed he’d withdrawn his light tome. Shinon gritted his teeth and pulled an arrow. The leather of Titania’s glove cracked as she tightened her grip. Boyd circled his wrists as if spinning his axes in slow motion. Mia didn’t look cheerful anymore. The soldiers were nearly upon them, so Soren stopped thinking for a moment and flitted through his tome until coming to a page of unused Wind spells.

Greil put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You have to survive this, Ike. I’m not going to lose you, not in this place. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Commander!” everyone replied in unison.

Judging by Petrine’s snort of laughter, she must have found their determination unbelievably amusing. Soren had to agree with her. They were fooling themselves thinking even one of them could make it out of here alive. Before Soren’s eyes, heavily armored soldiers in tight formation were failing to fall through what should have been the weakest point in the floor. Soren’s plan was a bust; the mercenaries had no escape. They would have to fight, and Soren found himself agreeing with Greil—if anyone was going to survive this, he wanted it to be Ike.

“You’ve nowhere to run,” Petrine called. “Curse whatever gods you hold, for they have abandoned you.”

Her taunt was answered by a chorus of roars reverberating through the building, and for a moment, Soren thought the fort might be collapsing after all. But the roars were animal in nature—snarling, wet, hungry, vicious sounds. 

“What was that?” Ike exclaimed.

The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, and Soren could see panic in the whites of their eyes. More Daeins suddenly surged through the western door, but they weren’t attacking, they were fleeing. They pushed their comrades blindly, trying to get away from the entrance. They offered stuttered cries: “B-b-b-beasts! Gallian b-beast soldiers! Run! W-we’re going to be torn to shreds!”

Confusion and fear spread like fire through the ranks. “Stand your ground, all of you! Don’t panic! I will personally slaughter the first man to turn his back on the enemy!” Petrine growled, and for a second, her threat seemed to work.

But then a single voice wailed in fright: “No!”

The fear was not for Petrine but whatever he could see bounding through hall on the other side of the door. A ferocious-looking blue cat soon appeared. The soldiers surged toward the other exits, while the cat’s claws and fangs tore apart any soldier it could reach.

The mercenaries were like an island in the tide of fleeing soldiers, and around Petrine was another island. She—and those within reach of her lance—refused to retreat. “Pfeh,” she spat. “Worthless cowards, one and all.”

Another two subhumans spilled in after the first, and after killing only a few soldiers, they let the others escape. “Beasts!” came a scream from the northern entrance. A handful of soldiers were chased back into the room by three more Gallians. The Daeins died almost as soon as they’d appeared. Then, like their comrades, these subhumans stood in place and watched the remaining soldiers escape behind Petrine. Soren was surprised by their restraint, considering their raised hackles and bared teeth.

When stillness and quiet had fallen on the room, the blue cat padded forward, transforming into its human shape without slowing its steady strides. It was a male, and now resembled a beorc man except for the ears, tail, and skin markings. “Attention, Daein soldiers! Leave this place at once!” it commanded Petrine, “If you do not comply immediately, you will face Gallia’s full strength!” The other subhumans roared to emphasize his words.

“Threaten me all you like.” General Petrine scowled at the cat-man. “It’s not going to frighten me off. If I leave, His Majesty will have me executed. I’d rather die here in battle, with my honor intact.”

They continued to glare at each other, with the mercenaries standing in the middle, glancing from one to the other. Although he was standing on Crimean land, Soren was watching an altercation between Gallia and Daein, and he didn’t know what either side would do.

The moment was broken, however, when someone new entered the room behind Petrine. He was a tall, broad man encased from head to toe in black armor. His helmet covered his entire face so even his eyes were lost in shadow. Despite his heavy armor, he moved fluidly and almost soundlessly. “Withdraw, General Petrine,” he said in a voice that was clear but eerily warbled behind his helmet

“The Black Knight,” Petrine greeted him. Her voice was caught somewhere between awe and frustration. She clearly respected this man, even if she resented his order.

“As for our King,” the aptly-named Black Knight continued, “you have nothing to fear. I will explain things to him. Take your men and go.”

Petrine hesitated but finally obeyed. “All troops, fall back,” she said to the few remaining soldiers who guarded her. They departed through the eastern doorway, but the Black Knight lingered, staring at the mercenaries.

“Hmm,” Greil hummed as if in deep thought.

“He’s staring at you, isn’t he father?” Ike whispered.

“Yeah, he is,” Greil replied without looking away from the strange man. Then he nudged Ike behind him and walked forward so he stood between the mercenaries and the knight.

The cat-man stomped forward until it was standing beside Greil. “Hey!” it shouted at the Black Knight, raising both arms, “Are you planning taking us all on by yourself?”

The knight did not reply. But after another few seconds ticked by, he slowly turned and followed Petrine. Greil continued to stare at the open door, even after he’d disappeared from view.

“Father?” Ike asked nervously.

The cat-man turned to them with a smile and clapped its hands together. Soren saw its mismatched eyes and realized it was the same one that had been in charge of food dispersal back in Sileas’s village. He didn’t look a day older, and although Soren knew subhumans aged slowly, it was quite unnerving. He fell back slightly and tried to think of more practical things. This could be a new threat. They were still in Crimea; no Gallians should be here. He wondered if Gallia intended to take advantage of Daein’s invasion to seize Crimean land for itself.

“Come with us,” the cat addressed Greil, “There’s someone waiting to see you outside.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” was Greil’s response. “Please lead the way.”

Glancing around, Soren could see that Shinon was livid, Gatrie and Mia were nervous, Rhys was scared, and Oscar and Boyd were confused and uneasy. Titania and Greil were the only ones completely at ease. (In fact, Titania was beaming.) But they all followed Greil obediently, even though Greil himself was following a pack of subhumans.

 

They exited the ruin via the front entrance, although their supplies and horses were still on the other side. From here Soren could see a column of torches marching north through the ravine below. It appeared General Petrine, the Black Knight, and the rest of their troops were truly vacating the borderlands.

Satisfied this threat had been nullified, Soren turned to the subhumans. Six more were stationed here as if on guard, and a moment later, Soren realized what they were guarding—Princess Elincia was waiting on the front steps with Mist and Rolf. She’d been foolish to cross back into Crimea, even if she’d brought new pets with her, and Soren marveled at how close the Daeins had been to capturing their quarry.

“Father! Brother!” Mist shouted, seizing Greil and Ike with enough force to make her brother stumble. They would have all fallen if Greil hadn’t remained firm, and there they stood while she squeezed them and cried tears of relief.

 Rolf bounded up the remaining steps to meet his own brothers and embraced them just as fervently. Oscar rhythmically stroked the boy’s hair with a bloody palm and seemed as relieved as he was tired.

Elincia climbed more conservatively, although her smile was as wide as either Mist’s or Rolf’s. Her entwined hands were pressed against the base of her throat as she surveyed the mercenaries. Titania approached her, thanking her for the reinforcements.

One of the subhumans standing guard saluted to the blue cat and whispered something in its ear. With a nod, the cat turned to Greil and Ike, asking to speak to them privately. Extracting themselves from Mist, they descended and walked a safe distance.

Soren sat on the edge of the steps, in the shadow of the fort, and watched them converse. Greil seemed lost in thought, and Ike was doing a disproportionate amount of the talking. But he couldn’t hear a word of it.

Knowing he shouldn’t spy, Soren tried to relax and recover after the battle. This meant easing his sore limbs, examining his wounds, and judging which ones, if any, were worth Rhys’s attention. He felt a fog of sleep crawling over his mind and fought to stay awake.

Titania and Oscar went to retrieve their horses, and Gatrie, Mist, and Rolf helped bring the bags around. Meanwhile, Rhys and Elincia were tending Boyd’s and Shinon’s injuries (although Boyd was mumbling about not being worth the princess’s attention). When she returned, Titania distributed water, bandages, and vulneraries. With one last glance at Ike and Greil, Soren gave up his reclusive position so he could collect his share of the supplies.

By the time he was finished dressing his wounds, the confab was over. Ike jogged up to them, and the mercenaries gathered around. “Ranulf says he was on patrol when he found you?” he addressed Elincia.

“Yes,” she answered with a bob of her head. “We were on the road when Captain Ranulf and his unit intercepted us—” she gestured at the cat-man and his entourage “—They were not entirely surprised to see us. Gallia knows of Daein’s invasion and has been increasing their border guard to help refugees. They were quite accommodating, and I was able to send a letter of asylum to King Caineghis. I am heartened to know it is on its way to Zarzi as we speak, but I could not stand to leave the Greil Mercenaries to an uncertain fate. Upon the messenger’s departure, I entreated Sir Ranulf’s aid for your rescue.”

Ike nodded. “We’re lucky you did. You really saved us.”

Elincia smiled, but then the expression flickered away. “There is more… I’m sure Sir Ranulf told you.”

“You mean what his spies found out?” Now Ike seemed equally glum.

“What is it? What happened?” Titania demanded, looking from Ike to Greil. But it was Elincia who answered:

“My mother, father, and uncle are dead. The army is shattered. Daein has already declared its conquest a victory.” Her voice was faint, but she didn’t cry.

The others looked aghast (and Titania looked particularly affected), but Soren wasn’t. “What options lay before us now?” he asked, addressing Greil, even though he didn’t seem to be listening.

When he didn’t answer, Ike did: “Ranulf’s team is going to bring Elincia to Zarzi as fast as they can. But the rest of us are going to stay at a place called Gebal Castle just inside the Gallian border. Another laguz escort should come for us in a day or two, right Commander?” Ike looked up at Greil as if wondering why he was staying silent.

Greil just hummed noncommittally. Soren didn’t know what was more surprising—his willingness to give up their employer to the subhumans so easily, or his complete lack of attention. He wondered if Petrine had concussed him during their battle, but he didn’t see any signs of a head wound. Ultimately, he just had to trust Greil knew what he was doing.