Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 2 ❯ CHAPTER 43: THE MAD KING'S WAR ( Chapter 12 )

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

Soon after their victory at Delbray, a covert messenger from Gallia brought Ike and Ranulf some good news: King Caineghis and an army of five thousand laguz soldiers had crossed into Crimea and would unite with the Liberation Army in the Marhaut Range. These mountains cut across southeastern Crimea and were a perfect place for the Gallians to hide while remaining mobile.

The Crimea Liberation Army cut a path south, and along the way, they continued to purge occasional villages and outposts of their Daein occupants. But they couldn’t spare or protect the majority of the civilians, who were being used, abused, and displaced worse than they had for months under Daein’s regime. The Liberation Army’s presence had reignited the war; casualties were unavoidable.

When they finally arrived at the Marhauts, Soren was not entirely surprised to find a large refugee camp established on a plateau at the base of the mountains. Thousands of sick, injured, and destitute Crimeans bustled to stave off death and starvation in the shadow of the mountain. Some of these people had been ousted from their homes by Daein troops. Others were fleeing the increasingly large bands of Daein marauders, many of whom who would take lives for sport at the same time they appropriated their meager food stores, leaving families to die anyway.

Ike commanded the Liberation Army set up camp alongside the refugees and lend aid, although they didn’t have food to spare. There could be spies or assassins planted among the Crimeans, so Soren advised caution. But Ike ignored his warnings. He ended up meeting with the Crimean refugees personally and bandaging their wounds himself. Soren could tell he was exhausted from the nonstop marching and battling, and yet he continued to exert his energy on useless things like this.

“A Daein army moved into the mountains a few days ago,” he announced angrily when Soren found him at the heart of the tent city. “Refugees from the surrounding villages fled there when Daein burned their homes. But now they’ve been ousted from the mountains as well!” He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Will Daein ever stop?”

“It is likely they knew of our approach,” Soren reasoned, “or knew the Gallians are hiding somewhere in the cliffs. That is why they did this. They will be ready for us.”

Just then, a young boy with a broken arm and a smudged face walked up to tug Ike’s cape. “Mister! ‘Scuse me, mister!” he said politely. Ike turned to him in surprise. “Are you guys gonna go into the mountains? There are lots of soldiers wearing black up there. Those guys…” The boy sniffed. “They killed my poppa and burned our village. That’s why we went to the mountains in the first place. You’re gonna go up there and take care of ‘em aren’t you? Gonna make ‘em pay? Please, mister, say that you are! My momma and my sister and me don’t have anywhere else to go, and I wanna go back to the cabin my poppa built.”

Ike knelt and gripped the boy’s shoulders gently. “I understand. We’re going to take care of those guys. You just stay here a bit longer, alright?”

The little boy threw his good arm around Ike’s neck and snuggled in for a tight hug. “Go give ‘em heck, mister!” he said when he finally released. Ike’s face twitched into a grin. The boy started walking away, but then he stopped and turned. “Oh, wait! I heard those guys talking about something too! They said if anyone comes up the mountain single file, they’d get ‘em all at once. It was something like that anyway.”

“Really?” Ike glanced at Soren and nodded. “That’s a lot of help. Thanks.”

“Good luck, mister! Kill ‘em all! Do it for my poppa!” he waved cheerily and ran off.

When he was out of sight, Ike turned to Soren. He seemed even more exhausted than before, but there was also fire in his eyes. “So that’s their ambush? Something having to do with us hiking up there single file?”

Soren nodded slowly. “It would be efficient for them, but I can’t predict what their plan will be. Merely archers, or perhaps they managed to get ballistae up there? Oil and fire are reliable if they can disperse it effectively. Boulders are a possibility, or perhaps sand traps if they seek to impede our ability to climb. Depending on the terrain, they may be able to trigger an avalanche or landslide easily enough.”

Ike was staring at him incredulously. “You have an impressive imagination for ways we might die…”

“That is my job, isn’t it?” Soren shrugged. “At any rate, I will confer with our actual scouts. Not that the story of a small child isn’t valuable intelligence.” 

Ike laughed. “Well, I will see you later. I promised Elincia I would meet with Bastian before long.”

“Be careful around that man,” Soren warned.

“Oh, stop being paranoid, Soren. He may be…odd. But he’s harmless, and he is one of Elincia’s closest friends.”

“He was a spy for the late king. Don’t forget that.”

“Alleged spy,” Ike corrected.

Soren frowned.

“Alright, alright,” Ike conceded before yawning widely.

“And get some sleep,” he added sharply.

“Alright, sheesh.” Ike gestured in even more adamant concession. “Later.” He staggered off to the army’s encampment, where Bastian was no doubt waiting.

 

Soren was relieved to hear Ike managed to nap after tea with Bastian, but a soldier was forced to wake and retrieve him when a massive, boisterous man entered their campsite around dusk, shouting about wanting to speak with the general.

Soren ran out of the strategy tent to help hold the man back, while trying to understand how he’d blown past all the guards. However, there wasn’t much Soren could do except threaten him along with everyone else, and he was certainly not the most threatening. The intruder hardly even looked at him.

Luckily Ike soon appeared, and the growing crowd parted to let him meet the interloper. “Hey there, little man!” he said when he set eyes on Ike. “I’ve got serious business with the general of this army. Take a message, will ya?”

Titania looked personally insulted and opened her mouth to correct him, but Ike gestured that she should remain silent. “And you would be…?” he asked, glaring.

Although he was beorc, this newcomer equaled Mordecai in size. He wore nothing but a pair of trousers, a small fur cape, and some rough-looking iron pauldrons, and his lack of clothing was striking considering it was still winter. He had an enormous battleax slung across his back, which Titania and the others were eyeing cautiously. However, even Soren had to admit he didn’t appear violent (or cold). He hadn’t drawn his weapon or touched a single member of the crowd corralling him.

“The name’s Largo, and I’m a world-class berserker!”

“World-class berserker,” Ike repeated. “That’s a rather dubious title.”

“What’s this?” Largo exclaimed. “You doubting my strength? I can pin a tiger with my bare hands! That’s not just hot air either!”

Tormod, who was standing nearby, snorted in disbelief.

“Dubious,” Ike repeated, glancing at Soren. He just nodded in agreement.

“You think I’m lying? Have your general hire me and then see for yourself! You can decide how much I’m worth after you see me in action.” He folded his arms across his bare chest. “But let me tell you, if the gold’s not good enough, pffft!” He raised his hand off his arm in a careless gesture. “I’m gone!”

“Huh?” Ike glanced at the ground and seemed to smile inwardly. “All of this sounds vaguely familiar…” he said, perhaps thinking of when Calill had joined them. “But at least you’re confident.”

“Like I said: world-class berserker,” Largo repeated proudly. “Here, watch me bend this lance.” He grabbed a steel lance away from Marica, before she could react. Then he growled deeply as he tried and failed to bend the shaft.

Ike raised a hand to stop him. “Alright, you’re in.”

“Yes!” Largo grinned and handed the lance back to Marcia. “So, uh, how about taking me to meet the general?”

“I’m the general.”

“Wah?” the large man’s eyes bulged. Then he broke into riotous laughter. “That’s good! You’re a funny little guy! So seriously, where’s the general’s tent? Must be that big one there.”

Largo started off in the direction of the strategy tent, but before he could take more than a couple steps, Calill emerged from the crowd and stood in front of him. Her face was absolutely beaming. “Largo?”

“Hey! I thought I’d find you here, Cal!” He immediately scooped her up and swung her around. “You’re looking hot!” When he put her down, he slapped her butt, adding, “Almost as hot as me!”

Calill slapped his chest playfully, clearly embarrassed yet still happy. “Did you come looking for little old me?” she teased. “Oh, how sad for you. My contract with this army isn’t up for quite some time.” She sidled around Largo toward Ike.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Largo winked. “That’s why I’m joining up, too!”

“What?” Calill laughed. “Are you really going to hire Largo, General Ike?”

“That’s the plan,” Ike replied. A large crowd had gathered by now, and everyone was trying to hold in their laughter.

“Huh? This little guy really is the general?” Largo seemed to size Ike up again. But then he just broke out laughing and tapped himself in the side of the head. “I look like the biggest fool around? And I mean big!” He growled again and began flexing his muscles. Everyone was laughing aloud now. “Sorry if I offended you, little guy!” Large said, offering his hand.

Ike shook it but corrected him: “It’s ‘General’.”

“Oh…” Calill smiled and slapped Largo in the side again. “He’s such a clown. But you made a good hire. After all, he’s a world-class-”

“Berserker. Yeah, I heard.”

“He pinned a tiger with his bare hands!” Calill exclaimed. When no one seemed impressed, she added, “Two of them, actually. At the same time.”

Largo guffawed, bending to hold a cramp in his side. “Yeah, that was awesome!”

“Definitely dubious,” Ike sighed with a shake is his head.

“Just what our company needed,” Soren agreed sarcastically. He decided to save his speech about being cautious around strangers and suspecting every new recruit of being a spy. He was just glad Ike was smiling. It looked like a weight had rolled off his shoulders.

Largo and Calill retreated to speak more privately, and Ike gathered Soren, Ranulf, Titania, Lucia, Geoffrey, and Bastian for a meeting in the strategy tent. Calling his senior officers together doubled as a signal for everyone else to return to their regular duties or go back to their cots. The show was over.

“Beorc really come in all shapes and sizes, don’t they?” Ranulf observed as they walked toward the tent.

“Indeed we do,” Titania agreed. “Sometime even I am still surprised.”

“Large as he may be, he had no grounds to insult Ike’s stature,” Soren argued. In fact, he had grown a lot since this war had started.

“I am no Greil or Black Knight though,” Ike replied without turning around. “That’s no secret.”

Soren thought about pointing out his own diminutive stature, to assert that brains were more important than brawn, but he didn’t. Calling attention to his slow aging was out of the question. Instead they walked the rest of the way to the tent in silence and sat down for their meeting.

“Ranulf!” Ike began, holding open a map of the region. “Whereabouts is the Gallian army encampment?”

“Just over those mountains,” Ranulf pointed to the place on the map and then gestured in the direction of the mountains themselves. They were close.

“So we’re finally going to join forces…” Ike smiled.

Ranulf mirrored his relieved expression. “Reports say that King Ashnard is gathering his forces in the capital. The time to work together is certainly upon us.”

“Ike,” Soren reminded, “there’s an enemy ambush waiting for us on that mountain.”

“Mmm…” Ike hummed. “If we go around and avoid it, how much time will we lose?”

“A couple of days, at least,” Soren answered promptly.

“In that case, we’ve no choice but to go through them, right?” Ike concluded cheerfully.

“Agreed.” Soren had served as his tactician long enough to expect this response. There was no use trying to change his mind, not after he’d spent all day comforting the victims of these particular Daeins.

Ranulf, however, wasn’t accustomed to Ike’s decision-making process. “Um, wait a second… Isn’t this where there’s usually some sort of discussion? Hello?” He waved his hand in front of Ike’s face as if he might be sleeping.

“Sorry, Ranulf,” Titania explained, while Ike pushed his hand away. “That is not really the way we operate.”

“We should send in a small force and leave the majority here with the refugees, the convoy, and the princess.” Soren turned to Ike. “Seeing as we don’t know what we are getting into, we should bring only our best, most adaptable fighters.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Ike said with a nod.

Ranulf was still baffled. “Is this common for you? Walking into traps knowingly and just hoping for the best?”

Soren considering their sieges of Tor Garen, Talrega, and Nevassa. “Yes,” came his, Ike’s, and Titania’s replies all at once.

After a moment stunned silence, Ranulf smiled. “Count me in then!”

 

Ike’s specialized regiment marched out the next morning. Titania and her cavalry scouts rode ahead, with Tanith leading the army’s aerial units above. They would secure the foot of the mountain and assess the enemy’s defense. The rest of the army followed more slowly. Ike brought a coalition of sure-footed beast laguz, lightly-armored soldiers, and of course, his versatile mercenaries.

“Commander,” Titania reported when they arrived, “the foes are encamped on top of the rise.” She pointed to where the slope disappeared into the icy clouds. “And you’ll want to see the trap they have this time…”

Soren raised a spyglass to the cliffside. A single, winding trail led to the top. It was riddled with switchbacks to make the climb accessible to horses and carts, but Titania and the others would be leaving their steeds here. Everyone fighting their way up would need to be able to venture off-trail as necessary to stay alive, especially considering the oddly prominent rocks perched on some of the ledges.

Ike observed the same thing through his own glass. “Those boulders didn’t get up there all by themselves…” he said. “Are they seriously going to roll them down on us?”

Soren nodded. “At first glance, it seems a simplistic trap, but those narrow paths will make it difficult to avoid them. I think they may be surprisingly effective.”

“So-” Ike began.

“‘We run up the mountain as quickly as possible and smash the enemy commander!’—right?” Ranulf said in a rather convincing impression of Ike’s voice.

“Right…” Ike said, taken aback, “How did you-”

“I know,” Ranulf laughed, gesturing at himself, “genius.”

“Actually that is the best plan,” Soren interrupted. “Try to avoid the boulders and reach the top as quickly as possible. Once there, defeat the leader.”

The others nodded their agreement (or perhaps their resigned acceptance—it was hard to tell which).

“Right,” Ike said, raising his hand above his head and signaling the unit. “Move out!”

 

Daein waited until the Liberation troops couldn’t easily retreat before activating their traps. Some boulders were the size of human heads, but others were the size of a full-grown man. Once the big ones picked up speed, they were liable to hit a bump and explode into smaller pieces that came flying down the trail just as fast and deadly.

Everyone listened for shouts indicating incoming boulders and threw themselves into the woods on either side. However, sometimes there wasn’t enough time to escape, and sometimes the rocks came from above instead of ahead. Although the sound of cracking, ripping trees was ample warning, it was much harder to predict the trajectory of these boulders, and the scraggly cliffside flora did little to slow them down.

Anticipating this as a potential Daein tactic, Soren had advised everyone bring large wooden pavises, which had been reinforced and fitted with iron stakes on the bottom. They were heavier and more unwieldly now, but if their owners acted quickly enough, they could be stuck in the ground and pivoted at the moment of collision. The shields absorbed some of the impact and slightly altered the direction of the boulders. As Soren watched them used in battle, he was relieved to see some lives saved.

Finding evasion and shielding insufficient, some mercenaries abandoned the trail entirely. They clearly assumed it would be easier to charge straight up. But the terrain was treacherous. Ice slicked the ground, tree roots pulled easily from the shifting earth, and sometimes the rockface was just too sheer to climb.

People came tumbling down in cascades of dirt, shale, and snow as often as Daein’s boulders. Concussions, crushed limbs, and ruptured organs were inevitable. Despite the need to reach the top as quickly as possible, extra time was spent pulling unconscious comrades out the scree. Soren found himself thinking this wasn’t a battle at all, but a game of survival.

The aerial units tried to help by targeting the soldiers manning the traps, but they were always guarded by phalanxes of archers who made it difficult for the pegasi, wyverns, and laguz to get close. 

Whenever a relatively safe outcropping was discovered, the regiment’s healers took shelter there. They saved the lives of the mercenaries and soldiers brought to them, and when another shielded hollow was found, word was sent to move the triage unit farther up.

When they finally neared the bulk of the enemy battalion, they encountered new threats. Apparently Daein had managed to drag two stone ballistae and one arrow ballista up here, because they barraged the climbing troops with avalanches of rock and threatened to knock the aerial units out of the sky with well-aimed bolts. To make matters worse, they were equipped with a dozen feral laguz. Once released from their cages or freed from their bonds, the mindless cats and tigers tore down the mountain looking for something to kill. They were heedless of danger as they barreled down the slope, and being struck by one guaranteed a long, bouncing fall.

 

The ground plateaued ahead, and Soren could see the ballistae and remaining boulder traps now. Although they were not yet at the summit, but they were just below the cloud line. Soren could only assume the enemy force had deployed here for ease of maneuvering as well as visibility.

It was now that the Daein commander finally joined the fray. He was a dracoknight, and the jaws of his wyvern were as much a threat as the arcane bolt-axe he wielded. “So you’ve made it this far, have you?” he greeted the first mercenaries coming over the edge. “Then prepare to be sent down screaming!”

On unspoken agreement, Soren and Ike worked together to engage him. Soren’s Wind spells forced him to fly lower, within range of Ike’s sword, and his experience with magic helped him predict where the bolts would form. He pushed Ike away from strikes that might have electrocuted him but which left Soren relatively unharmed. As a wind mage, he was most resistant to thunder magic, and the lightning summoned by the enchanted axe was weaker than a regular Thunder spell. Although the jittering vibrations were far from pleasant, they were certainly survivable.

He and Ike were finally making some progress against the dracoknight, when a beam of white light fell from the sky that was far more powerful than his lightning. The pair barely managed to move away in time, and a tree where they’d been standing became a charred husk.

“That’s light magic!” Soren warned, looking for the perpetrator. He swiftly located a bishop far behind the dracoknight, who seemed to be holding a light tome. He had to assume the spells contained within were Purge, a long-distance light spell.

“Watch out!” Ike warned, and he pulled Soren away from the sweep of the dracoknight’s axe. He felt static jump from it to his scalp, shivering down his entire body. “First thing’s first.”

Soren nodded and decided to use a combination of Elwind and Elthunder to take down the commander more quickly. For now, he and Ike would just have watch for any strange glowing and hope they could avoid the Purge attacks before they melted the skin from their bones.

Fortunately he wasn’t the only one to notice the adept bishop, because Ranulf darted forward to distract him. Apparently the cat’s vulnerability to light and fire magic was too tempting for the mage to ignore. He relentlessly targeted Ranulf, who managed to keep the beams of light away from Ike and Soren while avoiding death himself.

The dracoknight’s wyvern was dead now, and Ike was trading blows with him on one side, while Soren attacked with wind on the other. The commander was managing to fend off both opponents for now, but Soren knew he couldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

When Ike seemed to be managing on his own, Soren tore his eyes away to check the status of the battle. Rolf and Shinon had each climbed a tree and were eliminating Daeins from above. Ranulf chased the bishop within their range, and Rolf’s arrow ended the man’s life.

By the time Soren turned back to Ike’s fight with the commander, he had just hacked off his arm. A moment later, he sliced across the back of the man’s neck. The body fell to the ground beside the dead wyvern, and Ike wasted no time charging off, announcing that the commander was dead and the Daein troops should surrender.

However, they did not. The clouds were descending from the higher cliffs, and as mist curled in around the plateau, the soldiers and mercenaries routed the remaining Daeins. Soren looked around and saw the ground was well-worn by Daein boots. Many trees had been cut down, and a camp of tents and lean-tos had been erected against the cliffside.

He joined the efforts to root out hiding Daeins by toppling the canvas and wooden shelters. Large, blunted wind spells bowled them over, revealed they were empty. A strange feeling nagged at the back of his mind. Considering the size of the enemy encampment, it seemed there should have been more troops here, at least three dozen more. Shaking his head, he asked himself where he’d gotten that number and wondered if he’d been struck by lightning one too many times by that dracoknight.

But then reinforcements did arrive, exploding out of the trees on either side. Soren was taken by surprise, but Ike quickly rallied his troops and handled them. The ambush was a failure. The Daein commander hadn’t set enough troops aside, and soon every last one was slaughtered. There had been about thirty, and Soren realized he’d sensed them without realizing it. Now he was certain his head was foggy.

He decided to report to Ike’s side, where he might be of use. Tanith and Reyson were already here, and Ranulf limped up a moment later. He was clutching a deep laceration in his arm and a bruise was swelling on his face, but he was smiling.

“Is this the lot of them?” Ike eyed the corpses suspiciously.

“I thought there might be more...” Ranulf glanced around, but the mist was growing thicker. Soren wondered what he could sense, if anything.

Just then, a winged shadow emerged from the gloom, and Marcia landed beside them. Elincia was sitting in front of her. The princess dismounted gracefully and approached. “Oh, I’m glad to see you’re well. I just wanted to-”

She was cut off by a voice shouting down from some cliff above their heads: “Now we’ve got you! Eat rock!” This was accompanied by a chorus of creaking wooden boards, which Soren had learned meant the release of boulder traps—a lot of them.

Elincia screamed, and Ike lunged to cover her. “Above us! Look out!” he called.

Soren’s body felt riveted in place. The voice hadn’t come from far away, and yet he hadn’t sensed the presence of any beorc—or anyone for that matter. Having become accustomed to his Branded sense since Riven Bridge, he’d started taking it for granted. However, he didn’t think this was his failing alone, because Reyson and Ranulf looked just as dumbfounded.

These were the thoughts and observations that ran through Soren’s mind in the split second before the boulders would fall. But they did not. Instead of rocks, a cascade of screams crashed down on them. When it ended, there was no creaking or any other sound.

By now Ike and Marcia had thrown Elincia onto the pegasus’s saddle, but she didn’t take off. Neither had Reyson leapt into the sky, although his wings were stretched. They all remained frozen, staring up into the impenetrable cloud.

Then another winged shadow materialized, but it was a hawk, not a pegasus, this time. Soren recognized the light plumage on the eagle’s head and wingtips, and his suspicions were confirmed when he landed and transformed. “I thought you might need a hand,” was King Tibarn’s greeting. His face, legs, and feet were awash with fresh blood, but it clearly wasn’t his own.

“Tibarn! You came!” Reyson rushed over with an excited flap of his wings and couple long, graceful strides.

“Well met, Reyson,” Tibarn said with a smile. After assessing him from head to toe, he wrapped the heron in a relieved hug. To Soren’s surprise, Reyson didn’t push him away. Then Tibarn turned to Ike: “And well met to the rest of you, warriors of Crimea!” By now most of the mercenaries had gathered to see what the fuss was about.

“Nice to see you too, but why are you here?” Ike asked incredulously.

“I thought I’d help you wipe out Daein.” The king put his hands on his hips, and at his words, dozens of hawks appeared in the fog. They landed either behind their king or in the nearby cliffs and trees. Some reverted to their human bodies, while others remained in bird-form. Despite the fog (which appeared to be dissipating), Soren estimated Tibarn had brought five hundred Phoenician soldiers.

“That’s good news for us, but has something happened? Why did you suddenly decide to help?” Ike pushed. This caused Tibarn’s bravado to fade slightly. His hands slid from his hips to hang by his sides.

“I asked for his aid,” Reyson explained, turning to Ike. “We must defeat King Daein. To that end, the more powerful we are, the better. Yes?”

“So that’s the story, is it?” The doubt in Ike’s voice echoed Soren’s own mind. A letter from Reyson didn’t seem like quite enough for entire nation to join a war they had no place in and wouldn’t benefit from.

Tibarn shook his head. “It’s true that Reyson requested my aid. However, that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

Reyson turned to Tibarn, surprised and cautious, as if bad news were about to slide out of his mouth like a snake. “What is it?”

Tibarn held up a hand and shook his head again. “In a moment. First, let us meet with the King of Lions. He waits for us deeper in the mountains, and frankly we should get off of this peak.” He jerked his thumb up at the hidden cliff where the boulders were still perched. “Daein was burning something strange up there.”

Ranulf frowned. “I didn’t smell anything burning.”

“You didn’t smell the beorc either, right?”

Ranulf didn’t reply, but he looked a little sick.

“Understood.” Ike clapped his hands together. “I want a team to investigate the higher cliffs! Ranulf, why don’t you lead it? In the meantime, Marcia, get Princess Elincia to safety. Sorry we couldn’t talk.”

Elincia just shook her head. “I came too soon. I’m sorry.” Since she was already astride the pegasus, Marcia mounted behind her.

Ike continued giving orders: “Tanith, take a team and scout ahead.”

“You can borrow some of my hawks,” Tibarn volunteered, and she saluted rigidly.

“Titania contact your men below and have the rest of the army move out.” He then raised his voice for the whole regiment to hear: “Come on, everyone! We can take a rest at the bottom!”

The cheer that followed his words was weak but earnest. The tired, wobbly regiment started to move. Most walked toward the trail leading through the trees and down the other side of the mountain, but others made their way to the tiny infirmary Mist and Rhys had formed since the battle ended. 

Tibarn reached out the toe of his boot to nudge the spur around Reyson’s left ankle, which seemed to startle the prince. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “You been fighting?”

Reyson crossed his arms aloofly. “Self-defense. This is a war, after all.”

“So it is,” Tibarn sighed.

Soren walked away from the hawk army to join Ranulf’s team.

 

They found some sort of liquid incense on the cliff, and Soren took a sample although he knew it would be a long time until the Liberation Army could consult a specialist and have it examined. In the meantime, he would assume Daein had developed a concoction that temporarily impaired a laguz’s senses when breathed in—no doubt a weapon to be used against Gallia during their invasion. They would have to be more careful from now on. 

The terrain descended again, and the trail brought them to a glade where hot water bubbled from the earth and trickled in steaming streams. The regiment bathed and rested here before moving on. The bulk of the army was still coming behind them, but Tibarn and Ike seemed anxious to unite with Caineghis.

 

 When they finally arrived, they found large, round Gallian tents sprawling all over a sheltered ravine. The place bustled with hundreds of cat, tiger, and even lion soldiers, many of whom stared at the arriving mercenaries with interest.

Elincia was spirited away to meet Caineghis, while Ike and the rest started making plans to set up camp beside the Gallian encampment. But Tibarn wouldn’t allow it, dragging Ike and Titania away and telling them to have someone else take care of preparations. “We need to talk,” he said seriously.

Ike agreed but wouldn’t go without Soren and Mist. The Hawk King also collected Ranulf, Lethe, and Mordecai; Lucia, Geoffrey, and Bastian; Janaff, Ulki, and Reyson; and finally Tanith as representatives of Gallia, Crimea, the bird tribes, and Begnion respectively. He ushered everyone into a pavilion with no explanation. “Wait here,” he ordered.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Titania whispered. Since the pavilion had been furnished with plenty of chairs, benches, and floor cushions, everyone found a place to sit. A low, round table was placed in front of the central pole, but there were no maps or documents on it.

“I guess we’ll find out in a moment,” was Ike’s answer. “But I agree we need to meet like this. There is something I need to say as well.” Mist sat beside him, leaned her head against his shoulder, and yawned. “You did excellent work today, Mist,” Ike whispered, wrapping an arm around her.

Mist smiled tiredly and nodded. “It was a difficult battle.”

“No one came out uninjured, but no one was killed,” Titania added. “We can be grateful to you for that.”

Tibarn soon reappeared with Elincia, Caineghis, and the kings’ bodyguard Giffca. The already crowded tent became even more claustrophobic with the addition of the three large laguz. Caineghis and Giffca took a bench near the tent flap, which Ranulf had kept clear for them. They squeezed in side by side, but before he sat down, the Beast King assessed the group with mild confusion. “This group contains the people who were at the heart of the last battle, correct?”

“Yes, it is,” Elincia replied politely, although she didn’t seem to know why they were here either. Bastian patted the seat he’d reserved between himself and Ike, and Elincia sat graciously.

The Hawk King was the only one who didn’t sit down, instead standing just in front of the tent flap. He glanced at Elincia in surprise and then jerked his chin at Soren and Mist. “What about those two children? Surely they weren’t involved!”

Soren’s patience met its end. “Children?” he growled.

Mist lifted herself off Ike’s shoulder and sat straighter. She looked embarrassed. “Um…”

Ike stood to address Tibarn. “This is Soren. He’s my tactician. And this is my sister, Mist.” Taking a steadying breath, he ran his gaze from Elincia, to Tibarn, to Caineghis, and then over the rest of the room. “Before we begin this war council, there’s something I need to share with all of you… It’s a story about my parents. I’ve kept it from my sister, but I felt this would be a good chance for her to hear it, so I asked her to join us.”

Mist look confused and nervous.

Everyone was silent while they waited for him to continue, but Ike had returned his gaze to Tibarn as if waiting for his permission. “Understood. Go on.” He folded his arms patiently.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ike began: “It all began when we met Princess Elincia and escorted her to Gallia. My father began acting strangely, putting me in charge of things. I think he knew something was about to happen, something bad.” He paused a moment. “The night after we encountered General Petrine and the Black Knight in a Gallian ruin, my father met the Black Knight again in the woods outside Castle Gebal. He had been sent by King Daein. He demanded my father hand over Lehran’s Medallion—your medallion, Mist.” He turned to her but didn’t seem able to meet her eye for more than a moment. “Father lied and said he didn’t have it. For that, the Black Knight killed him… The medallion houses a chaotic power: a dark god that causes the person touching it to lose their mind in a violent rage. Only someone with true inner peace like Mist, my mother, or one of the Heron Clan can bear it. When I was a kid, my father accidentally touched the medallion and, in his madness, accidentally killed my mother.”

Mist’s hand flew to her mouth. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something. Her eyes moistened.

“King Ashnard wants to use the dark god’s power,” Ike continued, “He wants to somehow release it from the medallion, and he has for a long time. We believe he is the one who killed the apostle and framed Serenes—just so he could acquire Lehran’s Medallion and kidnap a heron royal: Princess Lillia.”

This claim was met by appropriately aghast murmuring.

“He didn’t succeed back then, but he has the medallion again now. Nasir stole it from Mist and gave it to Daein.” Ike took a deep breath. “That is everything I know.”

“F-father…” Something between a croak and a sob broke out of Mist’s throat. “He… Is that how…Mom…? That’s…not true, is it?”

Titania leaned across Soren to grasp her hand. “Mist… Do you want to leave?”

“Um…” Mist wiped her eyes and blinked rapidly. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m all right. I’m just a little confused.”

“Mist…” She squeezed her hand again before releasing. Ike sat back down and turned to her like he wanted to say something comforting, but he did not.

Soren’s didn’t mind Titania’s intrusion into his personal space or Mist’s touching display. His mind was busy turning over Ike’s words. Nothing had been said that he hadn’t already known, and yet hearing it like this made him wonder why he and everyone else had been so willing to assume they knew Ashnard’s desires.

“That’s the whole of it, eh?” Caineghis said contemplatively. His chin was resting on his steepled hands, and his brow was furrowed. 

“So this was never just a dispute between Crimea and Daein,” Tibarn observed, mimicking the Lion King’s expression. “There was something else at play the entire time.”

“What could King Ashnard’s ultimate goal possibly be?” Elincia surprised them all with the anger in her voice. “He has risked everything, even surrendering his own country!” (Soren had to admit it was a strange approach to conquering a continent.)

“Twenty-two years ago, before he became king, he tried to release the dark god from within the medallion, didn’t he?” Caineghis asked. “That was why Greil and Elena fled Daein.”

Ike nodded. “Princess Lillia didn’t have the power to release the dark god. Apparently only someone named Altina can do that. But my mother and father helped thwart him by stealing the medallion. Though… They were forced to leave Lillia behind. She died Ashnard’s prisoner.” He glanced at Tibarn to see if he already knew this.

Tibarn gave one slow nod. “Reyson told me.” Soren wondered if this explained Phoenicis’s sudden involvement in the war, but their visit to Palmeni Temple had been months ago.

Ike looked from Tibarn to Caineghis. “You know about the dark god, don’t you? What kind of being is it? What would happen if it were freed from its prison?”

Neither answered immediately, but eventually Caineghis spoke: “I fear the world would once again be beset by natural calamity—much like it was eight hundred years ago. At that time, all the world, save Tellius, was drowned beneath the seas.”

Soren had heard the story. Holy texts told of an evil being so powerful it had drowned all lands except Tellius, which had only been spared because the people here were the most beloved by the goddess. Soren had always interpreted this as propaganda used by Begnion to justify its theocratic empire.

Religious scholars debated where the dark god had come from, but most agreed it had been spawned from the collective hearts of sinful men. Soren had always seen this as parable to scare commoners into obeying laws and paying taxes.

These scholars wondered why the beast, bird, and dragon laguz had also been saved by Ashera, but most agreed it had been an accident. Others believed the dark god had spared them intentionally, and still others believed they were spared only to serve as slaves for the superior beorc.

Given the anti-laguz attitude of this myth, Soren was surprised Caineghis would give it any credence. But even more important was the lack of evidence of the supposed flood eight hundred years ago. There were no written or pictorial records of any continents, people, or cultures outside of Tellius. As a king and a reasonable man, Caineghis should have known better than to take holy scripture for historical fact.

Elincia seemed as reluctant as Soren to believe the legend. “That is a true story? I thought it was nothing more than a fable.”

“All laguz are taught our people’s history,” Ranulf replied, sounding honestly confused. “It was only eight centuries ago. How can beorc have forgotten?”

“Burn a beorc’s precious books, and he’ll forget what he had for breakfast that morning,” Lethe hissed under breath.

Caineghis cleared his throat and Lethe looked immediately contrite. “At any rate, we have living proof,” he addressed Elincia, “Goldoa’s King Deghinsea. He and two other heroes fought alongside the Goddess herself to defeat the dark one.”

The beorc all looked appropriately astonished. Soren knew from his research at Melior and Sienne that the dragons were the most long-living of the laguz, but this was beyond anything he’d imagined.

Elincia gave voice to the disbelief in the room: “King Goldoa was one of the legendary heroes? But he’s…still alive.”

Tibarn nodded grimly. “The Black Dragon King is a living fossil, and as stubborn as anything alive. He’s been trying to control the rest of us for years, and he always says the same thing.” He pulled a long, serious face, raised his finger in reprimand, and continued in a dignified, elderly-sounding voice: “‘Do not fan the flames of strife. As long as Lehran’s Medallion exists, you must never begin a war that engulfs the entire continent.’” He dropped the act and waved both hands as if to say ‘take that as you will.’

Silence fell over the tent as everyone mulled over his words. Soren surprised himself by breaking it. “Never begin a war?” he repeated, wondering if it could be that simple. “It’s possible…” Realizing everyone was staring at him, he thought aloud: “Perhaps there is more than one way for the dark god to gain its freedom.”

“Oh ho! Aren’t you the clever one?” Tibarn seemed honestly surprised. “That’s just what the Black Dragon King says. Yet, the truth of that is unknown. There’s a war going on right now, but the dark god’s nowhere in sight, is it?”

Although Tibarn was right to be skeptical, this war hadn’t consumed all of Tellius—at least, not yet. “I think I may finally know Ashnard’s intentions,” he finally said.

“Really?” Ike asked hopefully. All eyes were on Soren now.

He stood and took a steadying breath before continuing: “King Goldoa said a conflict that engulfs the entire continent would free the dark god from the medallion. Let us assume that the war would have such an effect on the medallion no matter where it was or who possessed it.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “And let’s assume King Daein believes this as well. After heron galdr had failed and the medallion had been stolen, a war was the only catalyst left to him. But he needed the right tinder to spark a blaze that would spread to every nation.” 

“Crimea…” Elincia murmured sadly.

Soren nodded. “It had to be Crimea. Begnion was too big, too powerful. Daein would have lost. Crimea, however, is a country known more for its scholarship than its military strength. Ashnard gambled that a surprise invasion would let Daein win while taking minimal casualties. And he was right. Crimea was easy prey.”

Elincia’s eyes flickered closed, and she bit her lip. But she didn’t argue.

Soren expected someone to scold him for hurting her feelings again, but no one did. So he continued: “King Ramon was friendly toward laguz,” he glanced at Caineghis. “I imagine that this, too, influenced Ashnard’s decision. If things went well, the conflict would be enough to draw in Crimea’s ally, Gallia, and the fire would spread. First Crimea, then Gallia, and eventually Begnion as well. Daein’s power would increase, and strife and discord would spread across the continent, eventually reaching the lost medallion.”

“Did we…” Elincia seemed suddenly sickened. “Do you think we made King Ashnard happy that we involved Begnion as soon as we did? Did we play into his hands? Oh goddess,” she gasped, “did he let us wage war on his people so the flames would consume Daein as well?”

“It is quite possible,” Soren agreed.

Ike was as aghast as Elincia. “So you believe King Daein’s ultimate goal is to awaken the dark god?”

“I do,” Soren answered firmly. “Previously I assume he wished to control the dark god’s power, to use it as a weapon. But now it seems more likely the medallion is not a means of winning the war; the war itself is a means to an end.”

“But why?” Titania asked incredulously.

“Because he’s mad,” Ike answered numbly, seeming to come to terms with Soren’s theory. “Everyone calls him the Mad King, and maybe there’s some truth to that. Everything I know about the guy is that he prizes strength above all else and surrounds himself with the strongest fighters he can find.”

Soren nodded. “I know not how he came to learn the story of the medallion. But I cannot imagine it sat well with him that such power had been locked away.”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t care if the world burns—if his own people are annihilated—as long as the strongest person—no, the strongest being is the cause of it?” Titania’s voice was outraged.

“I agree with this assessment,” Caineghis announced, getting to his feet. At this, Soren sat back down. “Unfortunately, this means our plan to attack King Ashnard at the capital fits right into his strategy, doesn’t it? It may be the trigger he needs to break the dark god’s bonds.”

“Even if that’s true, we can’t stop now!” Tibarn growled. “The war’s gone too far for that.”

“We have to smash Daein to end its menace once and for all.” Ike pounded his fist into his hand. “We bury every one of them and finish it.”

Caineghis seemed conflicted. He grumbled under his breath for a moment and then said, “Agreed. That’s the only plan that makes any sense.” His voice was resigned, and he sat back down a moment later.

“If only we had the medallion with us,” Reyson murmured, sounding forlorn.

Tibarn took a step forward, because the prince was seated toward the back of the tent. “What is it, Reyson? Is there a way to avoid all of this?”

“We—that is, the descendants of Lehran’s tribe—have a gift,” Reyson explained. “Through the power of the slumber galdr, we herons should be able to suppress the chaotic energies of the dark god in the medallion. So even if a massive battle occurred, if it were in my possession, I might be able to…” He shook his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Mist suddenly burst. “It’s because of my carelessness that the medallion was lost in the first place!”

“Mist! I told you that it wasn’t your fault, didn’t I?” Ike scolded.

“But-”

“You were never careless, Mist.” Elincia reached across Ike to touch her shoulder. “I know. You kept the medallion next to you at all times. You told me it was a keepsake of your mother’s and you always, always took good care of it. Didn’t you? That’s why it is not your fault. So please, don’t punish yourself anymore.”

“Princess Elincia…” Mist wiped away her tears.

All Soren could think was that they’d all been careless; they’d all trusted Nasir for so long. But he held his tongue. No good would come of placing blame, and he certainly wasn’t blameless. He’d known not to trust Nasir, and yet he’d done nothing.

“She’s right,” Ranulf agreed. “And besides, the dark god could be released no matter where the medallion is. So it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you, Ranulf,” Mist sniffed.

“Alright.” Tibarn clapped his hands together. “It’s about time for you to hear what I have to say. Reyson!” He stepped forward until he reached the pole at the tent’s center.

“Yes?” The heron stood uncertainly.

“I’m sorry.”

“F-for what?” He looked as confused as everyone, and somewhat uncomfortable.

“Leanne’s been kidnapped. It may have been by Daein’s hand.”

“That…can’t be.” Reyson staggered backward, but Tibarn closed the distance between them and grabbed his arm before he could trip over the seat he’d just risen from. “I’m sorry,” he said again, much more softly. Reyson found his way to sitting back down.

“Why would Leanne by taken?” Ike asked, “The release galdr can only be sung by the girl Altina…”

“But Ashnard doesn’t know that, right?” Ranulf shook his head.

“Oh no…” Ike’s eyes widened, and Soren could only assume he was recalling Lillia’s fate.

“What a mess,” Ranulf moaned, “Nothing can even be clear and simple, can it?”

“It cannot,” Caineghis sighed, “Not when our adversary is a madman who cares for nothing—and no one—save his own ambition.”

“Before today…I did not believe in evil,” Elincia whispered quietly.

“You mean the medallion?” Ike asked sympathetically.

“No…” was her answer.