Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 2 ❯ CHAPTER 45: THE BLACK KNIGHT ( Chapter 14 )

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

By the time Ike entered the inner hall where Bertram was stationed (with Soren hot on his heels), night was falling. Torches and braziers had been lit for illumination, but they quickly turned into tools of arson and murder. Daein flags and banners smoked on their poles, and arrowheads zipped through the twilight like fireflies. Braziers were overturned to make hasty escapes, and soldiers plunged torches into their opponent’s faces to wound and blind them.

The Crimea Liberation Army had suffered heavy losses, but Daein more so. The soldiers on both sides were exhausted. They all wanted the battle to end, and many sobbed as they fought. Hundreds of Daeins had already wrestled their way out of the fort or retreated from the battle enduring outside the walls. Some were falling back to Melior, other to Nados, although Bertram hadn’t given the order to do either. The captains seemed to resent the Rider and made decisions without him. Soren was curious to see what kind of man he’d be.

“General Bertram!” Ike demanded as soon as they entered the hall. “Surrender! Command your surviving men to drop their weapons so their lives may be spared.”

The Rider was a man of medium height and build, wearing a strange helmet carved into something halfway between a wyvern’s and an eagle’s head. The beak-like visor reached past his nose, shielding his eyes and the entire upper half of his face. He was riding a horse, despite being indoors, and it was turned the wrong way. He was staring at the wall, but at Ike’s words, he jerked the reins and turned around. His personal guard was comprised of shield knights, halberdiers, and mages, but they didn’t attack.

Ike had stopped, so Soren held back as well. The rest of the mercenaries and soldiers remained in the corridor or spilled into the room without straying far.

“I will eat…your soul,” Bertram said softly, and his words were only audible because everyone else had fallen completely silent. He held a long, thin cavalry sabre in his right hand, and a javelin was attached to his saddle. His head was slightly cocked. “Perissshhh…” he hissed, “Perissshhh.” The soldiers around him traded confused glances but ultimately interpreted this as an order to attack.

The mages began casting Elwind, Elthunder, and Elfire spells, so Soren and Bastian stepped up to match them. Gatrie and Tauroneo grappled with the heavily armored guards, Elincia sliced the throat of a light mage, Mist parried the strike of a swordsman, Rhys blinded a knight (melting his face in the process), and Keiran cleaved a soldier’s halberd clean in two before doing the same thing with the owner’s spine. Ike, meanwhile, dashed straight for Bertram.

“Perisssshhh…” he insisted.

“So you’re Bertram, are you?” Ike said, blocking a strike and vying for leverage. Soren was close enough to see a column of runes shine along the length of the blade, and the sword became suddenly wreathed in golden light.

“Ike, watch out!” he called, but it wasn’t necessary. The light was already blistering Ike’s hands, spotting his gauntlets with corrosion, disintegrating the fabric wraps on his knuckles, and fraying the ends of his sleeves. He could hardly have missed it.

Swearing, he broke away and put some distance between himself and the magical attack. “Sorry,” he said, “but I can’t perish right now.” 

“Me… Kill…” Bertram whispered, slicing left and right.

Ike dodged and jumped back from the horse’s dangerous hooves. He danced around the Rider, but Bertram moved fluidly within his saddle, flourishing his sword in every direction. The horse was no pansy either, and kicked out hard when Ike ducked behind it. Her hooves found his chest, and he fell to the ground gasping. Soren wished he could come to his aid, but he was occupied by the many guardsmen currently trying to stab or decapitate him. It was all he could do to stay close and keep watching with stolen glances.

Ike got to his feet before Bertram rounded on him. They fought on, and eventually Ike managed to dispatch the horse. Bertram slid to the ground, and Ike panted raggedly while he got to his feet.

“Me… Kill… Me…” the Rider muttered.

“What?” Ike asked, advancing again.

Bertram lifted his enchanted sword and continued to fight with both the blade and its light magic. He was clearly as skilled on foot as he was on horseback. “Kill…me… KILL…M-ME!” He was shouting now, and everyone in the room turned to look.

This was a mistake, because the Daein soldiers recovered their attention before most of the mercenaries—including Soren. The sharp end of a spear found its way through the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground. He uttered the final words to the spell he’d been incanting before Bertram’s outburst, and fortunately it still worked. The winds blew behind him just as the soldier wrenched the spear out and was about to stab again. The gusts pinned him to the wall and punctured his body with dozens of invisible, stabbing points.

Soren let the spell fade, and the body fell dead to the floor. Unable to stand, he pulled himself into a sitting position against the wall and surveyed the battle.

“What’s going on? Are you mad?” Ike had stopped attacking, resorting to a defensive stance.

Bertram said no more, but he attacked twice as furiously. Ike was burned and bleeding from head to toe, but his arms had sustained the worst of it. Every time he blocked the arcane blade, its light magic ate away his armor, clothes, flesh, and nerves. No one was currently attacking Soren, so he remained where he was and stared. Ike needed to finish Bertram now, while he still had the strength to wield a blade.

 With a frustrated roar, he ducked under the next blow and plunged his sword into the Rider’s gut. Bertram spat up blood and bared a grisly smile. He seized the hilt and seemed to be trying to wrench the blade within the wound, but Ike fought him for control. Growling in frustration, he refused to let the sword move.

Finally the Rider gave up and dropped his hands. “Releassse…” he sighed.

When he slumped, Ike supported his body and moved him into a kneeling position. He was obviously careful of the blade. “Someone, see to him!” he ordered over his shoulder. “Heal his wound and clap him in irons. I want him alive.”

Bastian jumped forward. “I volunteer,” he said with a noticeable lack of poetry. He swiftly untied one of his ornamental tasseled belts. 

“I will heal him,” Elincia said next, but Bastian held up a hand to stop her.

“Lord Ike’s dear sister Mist has the greater experience in this, my lady,” he said. “And it is as ghastly a wound as any. Pray let the girl undo this grisly deed.”

Elincia seemed disappointed but nodded. Mist scurried forward to heal Bertram.

When she reached his side, Ike finally withdrew his sword and laid the man on the floor. While Mist worked, he stood to address his troops, who’d been watching the end of the fight after routing Bertram’s guard. Now they awaited orders. “Makalov, spread word that Bertram is dead. Any Daein soldiers who surrender will be taken into custody.”

“Yes, sir.” He saluted and raced off.

Now that the battle was over, Soren gritted his teeth and got his good leg underneath him. Using the wall for support, he managed to stand.

Ike continued giving orders: “Mia, take a unit and sweep the fort. Devdan, take another to put out fires.” At this, the swordswoman and halberdier saluted and hurried off. “Rhys, join the triage units.” The healer gave a quiver of a nod and disappeared out the hall’s main door. Ike starting walking toward Soren when Ranulf stopped him.

“You sent Mia to search for hidden Daeins?” he asked.

Ike nodded.

“I’ll go with her and lend her some of my feline brethren.”

“You think Daein left an ambush for us?” Ike asked.

Ranulf frowned. “They arranged two on that mountain in the Marhauts, right? Our oversight back then could have gotten Princess Elincia killed.”

“Fair point. Go with them.”

Ranulf ran after Mia, whistling to Lethe and another cat laguz on the way.

Ike started moving again. Soren would have met him halfway if he could have left the wall without falling over. A moment later, a Crimean soldier ran into the room. “Sir!” she called and Ike stopped again. “Sir, the enemy troops are fleeing!” she reported. “Shall we give chase?”

“No, let them run.” Ike shook his head. “We fought enough today. Get our people inside the fort and give everyone a break.”

“Yes, sir!” The soldier looked relieved as she saluted and ran back the way she’d come.

Titania appeared a moment later, riding her charger straight into the hall. Its hooves clattered to a halt over the stone floor, and her eyes lit up when she saw Ike. She dismounted in an instant. “Ike, is the general dead?”

“He’s been defeated,” was Ike’s answer. Soren glanced at where Mordecai was carrying the Rider’s limp body out of the room. Bastian had bound the unconscious man’s hands and was now holding a side door open for them.

When he looked back, he saw Titania’s relieved smile. “Then our victory is confirmed.”

“Find uninjured riders and have them scout the path back to basecamp,” Ike ordered in response, “When it’s secure, I want everything packed up and moved here. If King Tibarn has returned, ask that he fly here ahead of the rest. I would like to know how he fared at Nados.” Saluting, Titania remounted her stallion and was soon gone.

Ike finally reached Soren. “Your knee?” he asked, glancing at the damage.

“Nothing permanent,” he assured. “Your arms?”

Ike assessed the blisters covering his hands. “Hardly noticed,” he said, and Soren was fairly sure that was a lie. “I’m going to check how things are wrapping up outside. Find me when you’re-”

“No, you’re not!” Mist scolded him from behind. “You’re bleeding.”

Ike wiped some blood away from a cut on his cheek, as if to check the amount, but it just mixed with the blood oozing from the sores on his hands. That was far from his worse injury, however. Now that he raised his arm, a wave of blood pumped down his side from a cut under his shoulder joint. Soren wondered if Ike wasn’t lying after all and had honestly ceased noticing these things. They’d been at war too long.

“Sit down a moment,” Mist ordered. “You too, Soren.”

He obeyed only when Ike did. Elincia came over and knelt beside the young general. “Please, my lord Ike, allow me to close these wounds for you.”

Ike blushed and nodded. As she attended the laceration under his shoulder, the one on his face, and several other cuts and burns, her delicate yet capable fingers traipsed across his skin, exploring the wounds through the holes in his clothing and around the edges of his armor. In an ideal environment, Ike would strip down for her so she could analyze the wounds more thoroughly before healing them. The thought made Soren irrationally angry. While she worked, Ike seemed to be trying to ignore her, focusing instead on removing his gauntlets whose clasps had been fused by the light magic. In the end he just cut the straps, and Elincia consoled him, saying he could order new ones from Muston in the morning. Soren hated how close her mouth was to his shoulder as she said it.

Meanwhile, Mist was attending Soren’s broken knee, and he trusted her to do a good enough job that he wouldn’t have a limp for the rest of his life. He didn’t pay much attention to the process.

 

When the princess and cleric finally cleared them for duty, Ike and Soren hurried to tackle the many responsibilities that always faced them after a battle, especially a siege. Triage camps were replaced with infirmaries, and food, water, and other supplies were distributed among the recovering troops. The dead were removed from the fort, although no one had the energy to burn or bury the bodies until tomorrow. The surviving Daeins were locked into the dungeons, and the few soldiers uninjured enough to stand guard took the first shift.

That being said, no one was truly uninjured; their wounds just had varying levels of severity. The degree of blood loss each soldier had suffered could be directly correlated to their recovery time and their ability to walk around, stand at attention, or (if they were lucky) lift heavy objects.

When Ike and Soren visited the infirmary, the Begnion and Crimean bishops and clerics warned they would soon be dangerously low on staves, vulneraries, and other medical supplies. Ike told them to use what they had, and that he would find a way to acquire more before Melior. From here, Ike and Soren split up to cover more ground.

On one of his rounds, Soren made his way to the upper levels of the fort and stepped onto the eastern trebuchet landing. The engineer’s body was still pierced into the wooden frame with pike, and Soren marveled at the number of lives this man had taken alone. From here he had a good view of the battlefield and even the baileys below. The last glow of fading daylight barely illuminated the sea of death, but he could see enough. Although the majority of the bodies wore black armor, he couldn’t ignore the swaths of red, white, and brown where Begnion, Crimean, and Gallian forces had died in droves. This had been a costly battle.

Spotting Tibarn and an entourage of hawks flying toward the fort, he left his vantage point and rushed to the southern gate to meet them. Ike was already there. “Ah, well met,” was the Hawk King’s greeting to them both. “From the looks of things, the battle ended in our favor.”

A large pile of Daein corpses was growing beside them, as additional bodies were exhumed from the fort. Soren moved his gaze to the field beyond. Although no one had the strength to build pyres or dig ditches now, many stumbled around, looking for survivors.  Every once in a while, the not-yet-dead would release a scream or a moan. If it was a member of the Liberation Army, they were carried to the infirmary. If it was a Daein, they were ignored, taken into custody, or quickly silenced.

“We claimed victory,” Ike finally answered. “Yet Daein had more troops than we expected, and it was a hard-fought battle.”

“I don’t have the best news to report, either,” Tibarn sighed. Soren returned his attention to the Hawk King.

“What is it?” Ike asked warily.

“As the day ended, we withdrew as planned,” he reported. “But as we were leaving, reinforcements began flooding in from the capital.”

“That is bad news,” Ike agreed.

“There’s more.” Tibarn warned. “The men originally guarding the castle were nothing special, but there was one who appeared mid-battle and crushed an entire phalanx of Gallians himself. He was so much stronger than the others, it was as if a wolf had appeared in a kennel of blind, newborn pups.”

“What did he look like?” Ike demanded, suddenly grave.

“He was covered from toe to tip in black armor. That made it difficult to judge his size, but I think he was bigger than me.” Tibarn held a hand above his head to show how incredible that was. “If my intuition’s right, he is the villain you’ve all been talking about.”

“The Black Knight,” Ike cursed. “He’s in that castle!” The fire in his eyes made Soren fear he would charge off this very second, running north alone until he reached Castle Nados, where he would bang on the door until the Black Knight answered.

“We will have to face him and the garrison at Nados,” Soren said evenly. “But not today.”

Ike’s fire seemed to burn down a bit. He turned and stalked off, mumbling something about making himself useful. If he realized he was being rude to King Phoenicis by walking away, he didn’t care.

Tibarn looked amused. “Impassioned young man you have there,” he said, rubbing his chin.

Soren didn’t like Tibarn, who had called him a child previously and now seemed to belittle Ike. “I am needed elsewhere,” he replied and left just as abruptly. Unlike Ike, he knew he was being rude, but he preferred it that way.

  

A few hours later, Soren found a room to sleep in and surrendered to much-needed oblivion. He only awoke when he heard a knock. Someone had found him, and he knew it was Ike even before he opened the door. The young general was clearly exhausted. “Oh, I heard you were here. Did I wake you?”

“No,” Soren lied. “Have you slept?”

“Since the day before yesterday?” was his attempt at a lighthearted answer.

“Take this room,” he said firmly. “I’ll cover for you.”

Ike seemed grateful (yet apologetic), and he did as instructed. “Just for a couple hours,” he murmured, and Soren closed the door behind him.

He waited outside until he was certain Ike had fallen asleep. Then he found the first face he recognized (which happened to be Rolf) and commanded he guard the door and not allow anyone to bother the commander. Rolf saluted, but his smile was just a shadow. Although Soren had seen him in the infirmary earlier and knew he’d gotten some rest, the boy still looked tired and heartsore. Somehow that didn’t stop him standing straight against the wall with his bow strung at his side. 

  

Soren settled disputes while Titania calmed tensions. She’d slept earlier in the evening and so was about as rested as he was. Eventually the sun rose, and Soren arranged corpse disposal efforts while Rhys and the bishops arranged prayers and last rites.

By the time the sun was blazing brightly in the sky, the first pyres were smoking, and the first row of graves was being filled in. The battlefield was even more grotesque in the daylight, and there was evidence of rodents having nibbled on the bodies in the night. Now crows and vultures were having their way.

When he reentered the fort, Titania approached him. “Where’s Ike?” she asked.

“Still resting. What news?”

“No movement from Daein. We’re safe here for now, but the storerooms weren’t as well-stocked as we assumed. We might have been able to starve out the garrison after all...”

“And now we are the ones who will starve?” he replied dryly. But then he shook his head. “We can requisition more food and supplies from the townsfolk. For now we must continue rationing what we have.”

Titania sighed. “The troops won’t be happy.”

“They will manage.” He changed the subject. “Do we have a final casualty count?”

“Over two thousand of our own dead, and over a hundred too injured to continue fighting,” she reported in a sad voice. “But we estimate over eight-thousand Daeins dead. We expect two thousand retreated to Melior and four thousand to Castle Nados. We have just shy of a thousand in our dungeons… The cells are packed, and we have to feed them too.” 

Soren nodded. “Those who moved to Nados will prepare the Black Knight with intelligence on our units and tactics.”

“I know,” Titania agreed grimly. She hesitated a moment and then continued: “We sent five riders to Castle Nados to better estimate their reinforced numbers. Only one returned, and he was in poor shape.”

“Why weren’t Janaff and Ulki sent?” Soren demanded. It had long been their strategy to use the two hawk laguz as scouts since they could see and hear far distances without getting in range of enemy attacks.

Titania shook her head. “They were still injured from the battle,” she admitted. “We were impatient for reports.”

“It matters not,” he said with a wave of his hand.

“There’s more…”

“More good news?”

She shook her head. “According to Bastian, General Bertram awoke and strangled himself to death with his bonds.”

“That is…odd.”

“It appears the man was completely deranged.”

“His defensive strategies cost us over a sixth of our army,” Soren shot back. “No matter how he seemed, he must have known what he was doing.” Although he didn’t care if Bertram lived or died, Ike had wanted him to live. No matter if his reasons were moral or strategic, he wouldn’t be happy when he heard the news. He would blame himself for not assigning a closer guard. And he wouldn’t be able to ask Bertram anything about the Black Knight, which Soren had little doubt Ike had intended to do. Rather than voicing these thoughts, however, he asked: “Anything else to report?”

“Some of the captains are wondering how long we’ll be staying here.”

“I assume they are not eager to march on Nados?” Soren ventured a guess.

Titania nodded. “Rumors about Ike and the Black Knight have run rampant, and by now most troops have heard the Black Knight is at Castle Nados. They whisper that their general will order them to march as early as tomorrow morning. Their nerves are fried, and they fear they will be ordered to their deaths.” She sighed. “Despite this victory, morale is low.”

Soren took a moment to digest this. “We must have faith in Ike. We all need time to recover, including him.”

“I would like to wake him so he can speak to the troops, and I should give him this report as well.” 

Soren agreed and gave away the location of the room in which the young general was sleeping. It felt like a betrayal, but a necessary one. There were some things only Ike could do.

 

The Crimea Liberation Army recuperated at Fort Pinell for only two days, and on the third they marched on Castle Nados. Most of the troops were still weary, but now that their friends had been buried and they’d been able to sleep, Ike stoked their desire for vengeance against Daein. He reminded them that Pinell had been a victory, and they were one step closer to ending this war for good.

Leaving a small garrison with the convoy at Pinell, the majority of the army marched across the plain to Nados. According to Phoenician scouts, the Black Knight commanded an army that now exceeded Bertram’s by a thousand fresh cavalry, thanks the most recent reinforcements from Melior. That meant the garrison forces almost doubled the Liberation Army, and Soren was not feeling particularly optimistic.

But they had no choice but to lay siege. They couldn’t march on Melior with the Black Knight’s army at their back, and the dark god was closer to freedom each day (as Ike and Reyson kept reminding everyone).

 

“The Black Knight’s in that castle, isn’t he?” Titania peeked around the tent flap at the vast hilltop fort. Dracoknights flew above it in a swarm, and a regiment of cavalry and infantry had been deployed at the base of the hill. But these external forces were far fewer than they’d faced at Pinell. Clearly the Black Knight’s strategy differed from Bertram’s, and Soren suspected traps inside the castle in addition to the many troops.

“There’s little doubt of it,” Ike replied. He and Titania shared the same grim expression and the same determination for revenge.

The rest of the army’s leadership remained politely silent. They were on the eve of battle, and no one was going to question Ike’s priorities now. This strategy tent, a few infirmary tents, and a couple supply depots had been erected within view of the castle to give soldiers a place to wait until it was their turn to attack, as well as a place to retreat to as the battle wore on. The troops were assembled outside now, awaiting their final orders.

“That beorc’s a real handful,” Ranulf eventually said. “Even when I attacked him in cat form, I barely scratched him!” He sounded impressed, not sharing Ike’s hatred.

“It’s his armor. It’s supposedly blessed by the goddess,” Ike explained. “Ordinary weapons, natural or not, can’t damage it.”

“Oh, that’s just swell,” Ranulf moaned. “So how are we supposed to defeat him? Angry looks?”

“Leave that to me. I’ve got a sword that should be effective against him.” Ike tapped Ragnell’s hilt, which was one of three swords he wore today. It was the largest and most deadly-looking of the bunch, making the others seem superfluous.

Everyone was looking to Tibarn now. As a laguz king, he was the strongest fighter among them. “I don’t like it—” he crossed his arms “—but I suppose there’s no choice. We don’t use weapons or shields. Those are beorc tools for beorc alone.”

“Very well, if the villain in question appears, we shall leave him to General Ike.” Bastian bowed with a flourish of his cloak sleeves. “Now then, shall we determine who among us storms the castle?”

Just then, Mist poked her head around the tent flap. “Ike,” she said timidly, “Can I talk to you?”

“Not right now, Mist. We’re discussing battle strategy.”

“I know that. Even so…” She moved fully into the entrance. “Please? It’ll only take a moment.”

“Mist…” Ike clearly wanted to go to her, but he resisted. “I promise I’ll make time later. Be patient and wait quietly.”

Elincia began making faint moans of distress.

“What is it, O beauteous one?” Bastian pranced to her side.

“I feel…a bit dizzy. May I rest a moment?”

“Oh, what foul deed is this that rears its head? The gods of war do charge a heavy toll. Bewitch us, and attack our very minds! The Princess, she is faint and o’er tired. Forgive your humble servant this trespass.” Bastian slipped one hand around the small of her back and the other into hers, as if they were dancing. “Hark, my dear, and bless me with your arm. Good folk, we shall retire for a spell.”

“Of course, Princess.” Geoffrey stood rigidly and saluted as she and Bastian passed. “Please rest and allow us to proceed with these preparations.”

“Th-thank you. I’m sorry,” Elincia said weakly. She inclined her head respectfully to Tibarn before departing.

Ike followed them out and gestured for Mist to come with him.

Elincia’s dizzy spell was obviously a ruse to give Ike time with his sister. Her heart may have been in the right place, but clearly her mind wasn’t. They were waiting at the edge of battle; there was no time for this. Even without Ike, Elincia, and Bastian, plans needed to be finalized.

“We have previously decided that our aerial units, led by King Tibarn, should engage the dracoknights above. Princess Elincia and Prince Reyson will be under his guard. Meanwhile our cavalry, led by Captain Geoffrey, will clear a path to the fort and make safe the entrance,” Soren announced evenly. “Count Bastian and Lady Lucia’s unit will then proceed under the cover of mantelets to seize the gate.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Without knowing what awaits us inside, I recommend we enter in small, controlled waves, each five minutes apart and consisting of no more than fifty each. Any trap or ambush awaiting us will not befall the entire army. That being said, the first wave will have to be larger to avoid being immediately wiped out. I judge a vanguard of five hundred would be sufficient. When Ike signals that the castle is at a tipping point, however many troops remain may enter at once.”

“Gallian soldiers have never attack so timidly,” Ranulf said reluctantly, “They won’t like this…but they will adapt when ordered to.”

“I also agree,” Lucia added. “A good swordswoman knows when patience and caution are her allies, and I believe they are now.”

“I will take the skies,” Tibarn said simply. “I leave the rest to you all.”

“If Ike supports this plan,” Titania said with her fist over hear heart. “Then it has my full support as well.”

“I too see no fault in this plan,” Reyson said.

“Let us not waste any more time and divide the army into the ‘waves’ as you said,” Tanith proposed. The task was complete by the time Ike and Elincia returned. When they did, they too approved the plan. Ike did so with the condition that he lead the vanguard, and Soren made sure he was also a member.

Tibarn’s and Geoffrey’s regiments charged first. When Ike could see through his spyglass that Geoffrey’s troops had cleared the field, he gave the order for Bastian and Lucia to move out. Their sure-footed troops surged up the hill, pushing a battering ram between them and rolling mantelets ahead to guard from the archers on the wall. Once the gate was thoroughly smashed, a wave of Daein soldiers flooded out. While Geoffrey and Lucia’s troops fended them off, Ike turned to his own troops and wasted no time ordering the advance: “Is everyone ready?” he asked. “The castle’s strength has been bolstered with reinforcements from the capital! We must strike now before any more can arrive. If the Black Knight appears, don’t try to engage him. He’s mine!”

The vanguard charged up the hill, past the cavalry still in mid-battle and Lucia’s infantry guarding the castle’s gaping entrance. Their footsteps crashed over the splintered wood and rent metal, to where ranks of Daein soldiers awaited them on the other side.

 

Nados’s architecture was more ornate than Pinell’s. The halls were larger, the staircases wider, the towers more numerous, and the corridors more circuitous. There was also a complex system of servants’ passages to watch out for. This was because, in addition to being a well-fortified bastion of Melior’s defense, it was also a vacation home for nobles and a place to host foreign dignitaries away from the hustle and bustle of Melior. That being said, there were no art exhibitions, colorful tapestries, plush rugs, or other fine things as they’d found in Tanas Manor. Daein had been occupying this fort for two years, and the interior now resembled a large military barracks. The stained-glass windows looked preposterously out of place, but, the carved pillars did make excellent cover.

The battle was long and arduous. After taking the front courtyard, Ike led them deeper into the castle. He was anxious to meet the Black Knight, but Soren whispered constant reminders of restraint. They progressed slowly and carefully, never pulling too far ahead of the team behind them.

Soren’s timidity was justified. They’d barely stepped indoors before Daein started springing traps. The garrison forces locked doors behind them or blocked them with toppled pillars. They collapsed ceilings, caved in floors, and released volleys of arrows through fake walls. Clearly they’d had ample time to redesign the castle’s entire interior. They set fire to oiled halls, released spiked balls from the ceilings, and sent spies scurrying through servants’ corridors. Battles were pitched in the ballrooms and dining halls, and the Liberation Army forces were always outnumbered.

But Soren’s wave strategy meant that there was always another group of soldiers coming to dig out the trapped ones and rescue whoever they could. Many died, but they pressed on.

 

The hours spent in the giant trap of Castle Nados seemed endless. There was little rest to be had, and it was reserved only for bouts of healing. When a soldier or mercenary was well enough to fight again, they fought again. There was no time to recover the waning strength of one’s body or the fraying fabric of one’s mind. 

But none of this was new to Soren. This was the kind of battle he’d grown accustomed to since the war had begun. Long in the past were the days when the mercenaries could afford to leave Rhys behind when he wasn’t feeling well, when they could fight with little risk of serious injury. Now were the days of struggling to fight even though he felt more like a walking corpse than a man. These were the days when some soldiers resented their healers for not allowing them to die. Soren saw others reject healing because their bodies no longer remembered how to be whole. But not him—not yet. He still had his sanity. Battle was torture, but it was survivable.

 

Eventually Soren determined that it was time for a full attack, and Ike concurred. He made his way to a balcony and bellowed down to his troops with the new orders. The signal was relayed all the way back to basecamp, and with one final push, the entire Liberation Army swept into the castle. By now most of the traps had been triggered, and all that was left was to defeat the garrison in a straight fight.

Soren, Ike, and the others finally located the commander, but when they entered the foyer where he was stationed, Ike was clearly disappointed to see it was not the Black Knight. (Soren, on the other hand, was relieved). That being said, this commander seemed to be guarding a door leading deeper into the castle. The Black Knight could be beyond.

Ike stepped forward while the commander’s guard tightened around him. “Hey! Where is the real general in charge here?”

He ignored the question and hefted his spear. “If not for a whim of His Majesty, I would not be facing you today. For a warrior, meeting a powerful foe is a joy above all others.” He inclined his head as if acknowledging Ike as a worthy opponent, but it was a joyless gesture. “And for this, I give thanks to the King! Now, let us enjoy the gift we have been given.” He widened his stance and raised his spear higher.

Ike took another step closer. “Is the Black Knight here?”

“Yes.”

“Step aside. I have business with him.”

“Aha…” The enemy commander smiled. “It would seem you and Sir Knight have some connection! My curiosity is piqued, but…” He twirled his spear over his head. “Before you reach him, you must first vanquish me!”

“Then prepare to be vanquished!” Ike raised his sword and quickened his steps. Soren and the others surged forward to blow a hole in Daein’s defense and make way for him. He vaulted over the broken line and dashed up to the commander.

Soren chanted as fast as he could, and he felt his heart beating faster too. Winds whipped around him, caught in the frenzy of his panic. They twisted in circles, spinning from one soldier to the next. The Black Knight was close, and Ike was about to fight him. He had the appropriate sword this time; the Knight wouldn’t let him go. Ike had to win.

If he lost, Soren told himself he would get him to safety. He wouldn’t let the Black Knight end his life. Revenge for Greil, war for Elincia, validation of Ike’s own strength—none of that mattered. None of it was worth the cost. But even while he thought these things, he felt powerless. He wasn’t strong enough to carry Ike from this castle, and if his magic broke on the Black Knight like a spray of water on rock, what could he possibly accomplish?

 He was stunned when there were no more enemies to attack. It seemed this battle had ended too quickly, but no Daeins were left standing so Soren let the winds waver into stillness. The mercenaries stood around the room, staring at Ike, who had just turned to the fateful door. It hadn’t budged during the fight. If the Black Knight was truly in there, he was ignoring them.

Rhys was at Ike’s side, healing his wounds, but Ike didn’t even look at him. He had Ragnell drawn, and it was already wet with the commander’s blood. Everyone else started sheathing their weapons and relaxing their shoulders. But Soren refused. He gripped his tome even more tightly, ignoring the blood running down his arms. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

Once Ike was fully mended, Rhys ducked contritely away and the young general finally tore his eyes from the door. He turned to face the men and women who’d chosen to follow him to this place. “The one I seek is behind these doors,” he announced. “Don’t follow me. I’m going in alone.” Without another word, he turned—his cape cracking with the sharpness of the movement—and pushed open the heavy door.

“Ike!” Soren called out. “Wait! I’m going with-” He couldn’t make it two steps before someone grabbed both his arms from behind.

“No, Soren,” Titania hissed as he struggled against her grip. “We have to let Ike go alone. The Black Knight is his. Defeating him is a crucial step he must take to truly get over the death of his father.”

“Idiocy!” Soren spat. But she wouldn’t release him, and she was much stronger. “I’ll hear no more of this naïve nonsense! What if something happens to him? What then?”

The answer was obvious. The Crimean army would lose its general, and no replacement would command the respect of both the laguz and beorc soldiers. The war would be forfeit. The mercenaries would lose their commander and disband. Soren would lose his only friend and be forced to travel alone again, this time forever. Ike wouldn’t exist in this world anymore, and it would become a darker, more horrid place without him.

“I think…” Titania finally said. Her voice was soft, and she let go of his arms. “Ike has gained the composure to keep calm and judge whether or not he can match an opponent. If, in fact, he can’t make that judgment…it means he’s reached his full potential, and that’s all there is to him. We just have to accept that. But I believe in Ike. I trust him. His life is not his alone any longer. I don’t believe he’s so irresponsible as to leave his companions behind by choosing to engage in a contest he cannot win. Please, Soren, you must feel the same way, don’t you?”

Although she’d released him moments ago, he hadn’t raced after Ike. And he remained immobile now, staring at the door that had swallowed his friend. But eventually he had to give in, and his head slumped. Titania’s words aside, the truth of the matter was that Ike had heard him call out and hadn’t turned back or said a thing. Ike didn’t want him there. “I don’t like it,” he said, “Sometimes bravery and good judgment aren’t enough.”

“Commander Greil…” Titania breathed, “watch over your son.”

Just then, Mist raced past them both. Titania lunged for her, and others reached to grab her, but she was fast and agile and perhaps no one really wanted to stop her. She heaved the door open and slipped in before anyone could give a coherent warning.

“Do we go after her?” Ranulf asked uncertainly.

“No,” was Titania’s answer.

Elincia strode into the room, and she must have seen what had just happened, because she was nodding in approval. “She has as much reason to be in there as Ike. And if she can help him, all the better.”

Soren moved to the wall beside the door, closed his eyes, and concentrated on the room beyond. He could barely detect Ike and Mist with his Branded sense, but they were both alive. Determining that they must be on the far end of a long hall, he monitored the ghosts of their presence as best he could.

The cut on his forearm had soaked his sleeve and was dripping down his fingers, but he didn’t move from the spot. And he wasn’t the only one remaining frozen in time, staring at the door. He might have had more insight into what was going on the other side, but that didn’t make him feel any more confident.

The minutes ticked by—until the floor shook. Dust cascaded from the ceiling, and a terrible screech rent the air. This was followed but a long, rumbling sound like a blazing fire, but much louder.

“What was that!” Tormod yelped.

“Find cover!” Tauroneo bellowed.

“No, evacuate!” countered Elincia when a second shudder hit the room.

The roars continued, and soldiers and mercenaries threw their hands over their ears to muffle the paralyzing sound. To Soren, these were the same cries he’d heard that morning in the Melior Royal Library, and he feared the Mad King had come to them.

“Everyone out!” Titania screamed, seeming to agree with Elincia. “This castle is coming down!” Everyone ran to the nearest exit, except for three who ran in the other direction; Soren, Titania, and Ranulf ran into the room the shrieks were coming from—to Ike and Mist.

Upon opening the door, the first thing he saw was Ike and Mist running toward them. A third, slender figure was thrown over Ike’s shoulder. Behind the fleeing siblings, amid a cloud of dust and falling rubble, Soren caught sight of black armor and the flash of a sword. But even more attention-seizing was the massive white dragon standing in the room. Standing thirty feet tall, its claws had plowed deep craters in the floor, and its horns scratched the ceiling. It swept its tail at the Black Knight and took down two pillars with the blow. It opened its maw, releasing a jet of blue flame. However, it struck nowhere near the Black Knight, instead blasting a hole in the opposite wall, shattering all the windows with the reverberation. Whoever they were, this dragon seemed intent on destroying the entire castle along with the Black Knight.

He couldn’t linger to see more. Titania was pulling him and screaming for him to run. Ranulf changed into his cat form, and Mist jumped onto his back. Ike outpaced him, and Soren saw the face of the one he carried: General Ena, the Goldoan. Soren couldn’t imagine what had happened in Ike’s duel with the Black Knight or how these dragons had become involved, but Ike was alive and that thought pushed his legs to run faster.