Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 74: RETREAT ( Chapter 8 )

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

The wall gates around Seliora Castle were closed, but the hawks easily opened them from within. The front doors to the castle were similarly locked, but Heather had no problem picking the mechanism (and without charging Volke’s exorbitant fee). There was no sign of a standing guard, but inside they found a small horde of servants brandishing broomsticks and candelabras. They lowered their makeshift weapons when Ike explained that they were not here to harm them or loot the place for valuables. “We might help ourselves to the food and bedding,” he said, “but you don’t have to stay.”

“In fact, you should probably get out of here,” Tibarn added. “We’ll give you ten minutes.”

The servants, their eyes wide in fear, instantly scattered. Most ran straight for the front door, but others grabbed whatever they could carry before leaving. Soren spotted one enterprising young servant stuffing her pockets with necklaces, and he had little doubt she would blame them for the theft (a resourceful girl). 

Once the castle was cleared, Ike and Ranulf set about assigning every soldier a bed, a cot, or at least a bedroll by a fire. Mist and Rhys searched for bandages and medicine while Oscar and Rolf plundered the kitchen. Meanwhile Tibarn and Titania were planning scouting missions for tomorrow. Between their meetings, they debriefed scouts returning from previous excursions. When Soren passed Titania in the hallway, she told him that many of the northern troops had split from the Central Army and were already passing back into Seliora. They moved in small regiments, apparently on their way to guard towns and garrison vacated forts. “Let’s hope they don’t come here,” Soren replied, hoping they could trust Zelgius’s promise.

Soren spent the evening wandering the castle and learning its layout and defenses, just in case they had to defend it. He also searched through Lord Seliora’s library, where he found a couple wind and fire tomes whose pages he pilfered, adding them to his shrinking collection. He rebound his spell book and then fell asleep in the corner of the library. It was cold, but he didn’t care.

 

The next morning, the Laguz Alliance’s war council convened, and Soren had a feeling it would be the last time. Ike, Ranulf, Tibarn, Reyson, and Titania were all here, but Skrimir was missing. The lion prince had been mostly conscious this morning, but Ranulf claimed he was still too weak to attend. Soren wondered if his injured pride could also be keeping him in bed.

After Tibarn and Titania gave their latest reports from the scouting missions, Soren explained that they could expect Zelgius to catch up in three days: one more day on his ceasefire and two for travel. He then recommended they not stay here and allow that to happen.

“Yeah,” Ranulf agreed. “Actually, I’ve spoken to Skrimir, and…we’re going to leave today, before noon. A full retreat.”

“…Three days, huh?” Tibarn thought aloud. “What will the beast tribe do, Ranulf? Will Gallia make peace with Begnion?”

“No, but…” Ranulf shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tibarn. Now that Skrimir has been incapacitated…Gallia can’t go on any further.”

“Right…” Tibarn blinked slowly. “That’s too bad. I guess the Laguz Alliance has to take a break, then.”

“What about you?” Ike asked. “Will Phoenicis agree to a peace talk?”

Tibarn stared into the middle distance. “I haven’t decided,” he finally answered. “Our force lacks numbers and supplies. We can’t possibly take them on, but…I imagine that a ‘peace’ talk would be far from pleasant.” After the massacre of his people, Soren was honestly surprised he would even consider capitulating to Begnion. He supposed Tibarn might just be wise enough to put aside revenge if it meant his people’s survival.

“General Zelgius seems like a trustworthy beorc,” Ranulf spoke up, but there was something uncertain in voice. Soren wondered if his apprehension was due to the fact that Zelgius wasn’t ‘beorc’ at all. He was staring at the ground, but now he shook his head and swallowed. “…I also know from the Mad King’s War that even the apostle is not a bad person at heart. But in reality, the senate controls Begnion right now. They were the ones who killed our messengers.”

Ike bobbed his head in agreement, and his mouth puckered in thought. “I know that General Zelgius can’t disobey orders from the senate. But what about the apostle? She’s Begnion’s supreme leader, right? Can’t we just contact her directly?”

“Trust me, we tried,” Reyson answered with arms crossed. Soren wondered if he regretted forgiving Sanaki and healing the Serenes Forest for her. “All our efforts were in vain. It’s not just the laguz either. Tanith said that the apostle won’t even meet with the Holy Guard these days.”

“Wait, she won’t meet with Tanith?” Ranulf exclaimed, but his outburst seemed to drain him. “There’s something very wrong with all of this…”

“What the hell is happening in Begnion?” Ike agreed with a shake of his head.

“Well, we’ll stick around and see what happens for now,” Tibarn decided. “The Laguz Alliance will disband temporarily. The problem is Gallia’s retreat. You’ve got a lot of ground to cover before Begnion attacks in three days.”

“Agreed,” Ranulf sighed.

 

Before the Gallian Army left, Ranulf officially released the Greil Mercenaries from their contract and paid them what they were due. He couldn’t give them the bonus because the campaign had ended in defeat, but he still rounded up the last month. 

“Where will you go?” he asked.

“Oh, we’ll be right behind you,” Ike assured. “We’ll catch up in a few days. When we’re all safely in Gallia, then I suppose the Greil Mercenaries will go back to Crimea. But let’s focus on the first thing first.”

Ranulf smiled. “Thank you, Ike. You’re a good friend.”

Ike gave him a farewell hug, saying, “Be safe on the road. We’ll see you soon.” With that, Ranulf, Lethe, Lyre, and Mordecai waved farewell to their mercenary friends. Skrimir and Kyza were with them, but Skrimir seemed too weak to smile and wave and Kyza was far too serious. With that, they turned and began their long march west.

When they were out of sight, Tibarn mustered his remaining hawks for a lengthy scouting mission. Many of his injured soldiers were marching or being carried back to Gallia with the other laguz, but those who remained were going to gather intelligence on what was happening in Begnion and what Kilvas was doing now.

Tibarn left Reyson with the Greil Mercenaries, however, asking that they escort him safely to Gallia. No contract was signed and Tibarn had given them no coin, but Ike accepted the job anyway. Soren didn’t argue, because he knew the rest of the mercenaries would want to do this favor, just like Ike. He would be outvoted.

By the second day at Castle Seliora, only the Greil Mercenaries (including Haar, Ilyana, Brom, Nephenee, and Heather), Reyson, and the merchants remained. They drew hot baths, ate the lord’s food, rearranged his knickknacks, and played with his display of ancient weaponry and armor. Titania appropriated fresh horses from his stables, and Oscar baked hardtack for traveling. The servants stayed away, and no one came from town to demand they leave.

 

Titania had gone out for a leisurely ride, but when Soren saw her returning, she was whipping her horse into a hard gallop. A moment later, an army appeared around the bend in the hills behind her. Pulling his legs back onto the balcony, Soren stood. He hadn’t been waiting for Titania; he hadn’t been watching for an army. He hadn’t expected this—but he was not surprised. In retrospect, it felt inevitable.

By the time Titania burst through the front gate, Soren had sounded the alarm, and Gatrie was there to close it behind her. Meanwhile Boyd and Haar were checking that the other two gates were secure.

“Enemies incoming!” Titania shouted as she stormed into the bailey. “We’re under attack!” Anyone who had yet to hear Soren’s announcement certainly heard hers, and soon everyone was strapping on weapons and armor and running outside. Upon Titania’s order, Rolf and Shinon went to prepare the ballistae.

Reyson perched on the railing beside Soren and glared at the columns of red-armored soldiers with a ferocity that defied his angelic features. The battalion had nearly reached the gate, and Soren counted two hundred infantry and a hundred cavalry. Someone at the head of the army blew a horn, and the columns halted their advance to fan out. A moment later that same horn-blower started demanding the castle’s surrender.

Just then, Ike and Titania burst onto the balcony behind him—apparently coming for a quick view. “It hasn’t been three days yet!” Ike was saying.

“It seems they couldn’t care less. They must have begun marching during Zelgius’s grace period, regardless of his orders,” Soren replied. “They are demanding we vacate the castle. If we do not comply, they will attack.”

“They were probably waiting for both the Gallians and the hawk tribe to leave,” Reyson added in an annoyed hiss.

“Oh, they think they can take us now that we’re alone, huh?” Ike twisted his mouth as if accepting the challenge. “They obviously don’t know who they’re up against. Let’s make them remember the name of the Greil Mercenaries!” he shouted down to the bailey. “Everyone, get in position! Let’s take them out!”

Reyson stepped off the ledge and glided to the wide, wraparound balcony where Rolf and Shinon were loading the mounted scorpions. Then Ike and Titania twisted around and started running back down the stairs. Soren was right behind them.

Seventeen against three hundred would ordinarily be impossible, but the mercenaries had the walls and ballistae in their favor. That meant they had a chance. In fact, they had exactly three chances at victory: they could kill enough soldiers to convince their commander it wasn’t worth the cost to reclaim the stupid castle, they could hold out until the Phoenician Armada returned, or they could weaken the army’s western flank to escape on horseback with the merchant wagons in tow. However, Soren had no idea when Tibarn would return, and the odds of surviving such an escape attempt were slim. For now, they just needed to survive.

 

Soren was deployed on the west wall, the only section wide enough to have battlements. Here he stayed, running back and forth and striking Begnion soldiers with wind, fire, and lightning as they tried to climb up with ladders and grappling hooks. Nephenee was stationed with him, and if one of the soldiers managed to get all the way up, she threw them back over the side or killed them on the spot. When archers shot at them, they both ducked below the parapet. Rolf’s scorpion was nearby, and he would occasionally support them by thinning the ranks with a few steel bolts. When more soldiers managed to climb up than Soren and Nephenee could handle, they could count on him for a few well-aimed arrows too.

Not far away, Haar and Boyd were manning the western door in the south wall, but Soren could tell by the sound of fighting that the door had already been chopped to splinters and the pair were barely holding the entrance (Haar from above and Boyd from below).

Although it was farther away, Soren knew Ike, Titania, Oscar, and Mist were manning the front gate, and he had little doubt it would be knocked down any moment if it wasn’t already. He hoped they were okay, because that seemed to be where the Begnion troops were focusing the brunt of their assault.

 On the other side of the castle, Ilyana, Gatrie, Mia, and Heather were manning the eastern gate. Soren couldn’t know for certain how they were faring. But Shinon was operating the scorpion on that side, and Soren heard it firing steadily, which meant he was still alive. This, in turn, meant soldiers couldn’t be pouring in.

Reyson and Rhys moved from one gate to the next, singing and healing. Just as during the Mad King’s War, Soren felt stronger when Reyson was singing galdr nearby. His mind was sharper, his senses clearer, and his spells more powerful. His wounds felt less painful, and they oozed less blood as clotting and healing quickened. But the magic always faded when the heron moved away (and sometimes that felt worse than no galdr at all).

“*Spirits of flame, molten rock, lay waste to my enemy,*” Soren chanted, summoning his power to cast Bolganone. The advanced spell sapped his strength, but it was more powerful now than it had been that night in Mugill. He managed to dig a trench of lava at the base of the wall, and the soldiers standing there either caught fire, had their boots (and the soles of their feet) melted off, or threw themselves backward, avoiding the attack. Nephenee jabbed one of the soldiers climbing a rope, and he accidentally let go, falling into the lava and immediately catching flame. He screamed and writhed, splashing molten earth onto his struggling comrades.

But then Soren had to let the spell go, unable to sustain it or risk passing out. The ground would take a few seconds too cool, and that gave him and Nephenee a moment to catch their breath. Another soldier had been climbing a rope, but when he arrived, Nephenee just kicked him in the face before he could pull himself over the parapet. He fell to the ground, and although the drop didn’t kill him, Soren did hear a crack and plenty of sobbing.

He and Nephenee pulled off the grappling hooks and threw them back toward Rolf so the Begnion soldiers couldn’t use them anymore. But there were more ropes where those came from, and now that the ground was solid again, the soldiers resumed their attack.

“There’s no end to ‘em,” Nephenee groaned.

Just then, a squad of archers appeared, and Soren was forced to apply his magic to fending off the volleys instead of handling the climbers. This meant more were crawling up than Nephenee could manage.

“Uh, Rolf!” Nephenee called. “We could use some help!”

In answer, the boy hopped down from the balcony and struck a soldier with his bow, sending him over the side. “Sorry!” he said, jumping back. “I just used the last bolt!” He drew three arrows from his quiver, and Soren took this as a sign to let the winds die. Rolf sent each one flying in quick succession toward the squad of archers. His range was farther than Soren could cast, and his aim was perfect.

The others kept firing, and this time Soren ducked and dodged to avoid the arrows so Rolf could keep shooting. Nephenee kept her shield in front of her face, but she continued to stab at the soldiers crawling over the side.

Two got to their feet, and Soren killed one with Elfire. But at the same time, an arrow found his leg, and he struggled not to collapse. Gritting his teeth and limping backward, he narrowly avoiding the other soldier’s sword. Nephenee tried to stab him with the back of her spear before lunging forward to stab another soldier with the front. But the first strike missed, and the soldier was still coming.

Soren had reached the end of an Elthunder spell, but the man raised his sword to the sky and gripped Soren’s throat. If he electrocuted him now, he would shock himself too. At the last second, he changed the direction of the bolt, striking the floor instead.

The wall trembled under his feet, and bits of stone flew in every direction. Nephenee and Rolf cried out in surprise but kept fighting. The swordsman at Soren’s throat lost his balance for a moment, and his swing became sloppy. It landed next to Soren’s neck instead of into it, smashing his collarbone and cutting deep.

“Agh!” Soren cried and let himself drop. He threw himself into the soldier’s leg, tackling him to the ground too. The soldier tried to kick him off and, when Soren withdrew his dagger, managed to kick it away while badly bruising Soren’s fingers. However, the knife had been hardly more than a distraction, and Soren finished chanting another Elthunder spell. This time he let go before it hit, and the man was fried where he lay.

Looking around, Soren saw that Nephenee and Rolf were still fighting for their lives. He limped back to them, but with one leg impaired, one arm useless, and blood slowly pooling in his right lung, he didn’t know how much help he would be. He hung back, hoping Rhys would visit again soon. From here he shot wind spells into any soldier who dared crawl over the edge. Eventually, this allowed Nephenee and Rolf to remove the ones who’d already made it up.

Fortunately, Rhys and Reyson returned before long. Rhys healed his neck but then moved onto Rolf’s newest headwound instead of attending his leg. He couldn’t complain. Rhys knew his first priority was to keep all of the mercenaries alive and conscious. If Soren was standing (albeit lopsidedly), he could wait.

Then again, he grew less complacent when Reyson suddenly stopped singing. Soren’s calf suddenly screamed in pain again, and he realized his patience was due in part to the heron’s calming galdr. Reyson jerked his head to the side, staring in the direction of the main gate.

Soren was afraid something terrible had happened. Then he noticed the hundreds of Begnion reinforcements arriving in the distance and realized something terrible was happening indeed. “We’re not going to survive this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’ say that!” Nephenee complained.

A moment later, however, the Begnion trumpeters were signaling retreat, and the soldiers at the base of the wall started falling back.

“What’s happening?” he asked Reyson, hoping his hearing was better than his own.

“Someone has come to reprimand the Begnion commander,” Reyson replied. “I will discover more.” With that, he flapped his wings and glided over to the main gate. Part of Soren wanted to go with him, but he knew Begnion could resume its attack at any moment. He needed to stay in position.

A sudden wrenching pain in his leg reminded him of his wound. Rhys was kneeling beside him, and he had just torn out the arrow. He winced apologetically.

“Some warning next time?” Soren spat. Then he lowered himself to the ground, because that was what the seeping blood loss wanted him to do. With one leg outstretched, he waited for Rhys to finish.

The Begnion troops continued to retreat, and by the time Soren could stand again, he determined the soldiers were not coming back. He and the others descended the wall and found Ike’s group (plus Boyd and Haar) in the bailey. As expected, the gate was nothing but splinters hanging on broken hinges. Ike was bloodied and bruised but no worse for wear.

“Someone loyal to Zelgius came and ordered the troops to stop,” Ike explained in answer to Soren’s questioning look. “It was that young general, the one who was on the cliff with Zelgius back in Gaddos.”

“I suppose we owe him our lives,” Soren replied sarcastically.

Ike grinned. “Well I sure appreciate him coming to our rescue.”

“What’s with this ‘rescue’ business?” Boyd asked, holding a gash in his side. “We were definitely winning!” Rhys gently pulled away his hand. “Ah, ah! Hey, that hurts.”

“Let me attend this,” Rhys replied, “You should sit down.”

Just then, Gatrie, Shinon, and the rest came around from the other side of the castle. “They get cold feet?” Shinon called. Ike shook his head and offered the same explanation he’d just given Soren.

By the time he was done, Mist was standing by the broken gate and pointing into the sky with a giddy smile. “King Tibarn is back!”

Tibarn, Janaff, and Ulki were clearly visible, while behind them loomed a flock of other scouts. “Hey, hold on a minute!” Janaff exclaimed, swooping over the dead soldiers. “What’s going on here?” He landed in front of Ike and reverted his form. “We hurry back, and you don’t even save us anyone to fight?”

“Sorry about that.” Ike nodded. “You’re back sooner than I expected. How far out did you scout?”

Tibarn perched on top of the wall and transformed so his legs now hung over the edge. “We went to the enemy’s headquarters, Castle Gaddos,” he explained, looking over his shoulder to the east. Then he dropped down, throwing out his wings to decrease the impact of the fall. “As promised, the Begnion forces were waiting quietly in their castle. Apparently, some of their soldiers disobeyed orders, but we can trust Zelgius to keep the rest in line.”

Ike opened his mouth to say something, but Tibarn cut him off:

“I have other news, however. I ran into someone quite unexpected on the outskirts of enemy territory.”

“Who?” Ike asked, confused.

“The Commander of the Holy Guards,” Tibarn replied, raising his hands and shoulders as if to say he was surprised too.

“General Sigrun?”

“Yeah. She was by herself, and she seemed hesitant to get near Castle Gaddos. It was odd.” He shrugged again. “I figured since she’s a friend and loyal to the Apostle, why not try to get some information from her? But she wouldn’t budge. Tough girl, that one. She wasn’t at all surprised to see me, either. Then she said, in such a sad voice: ‘Please escape at once’.” He moved his hands to the side of face and raised the pitch of his voice in a very inaccurate impression of Sigrun.

Ike didn’t laugh. “I wonder what she meant by that? It can’t be a good sign.” He scuffed his toe between the cobblestones at his feet. “This whole mess is getting worse by the minute.”

“Whatever the current state of the theocracy,” Soren proposed logically, “we are in no position to take advantage of their squabbles. Right now, it is in our best interest to take Sigrun’s advice. We should depart Seliora Castle before Zelgius loses control and the entire Northern Army attacks us.”

“My hawks should all return by morning,” Tibarn said. “If you wait, we can travel west together.”

Ike gave a firm nod. “We should be safe for one more night.”

 

The Phoenicians and mercenaries made haste across Seliora, following the footprints of the Gallian Army. In each town, they asked how long ago the beasts had passed, and in this way, they were able to stay on their trail.

After a few days, Soren realized Ranulf and Skrimir were moving farther southward than the journey here. A few days later, he discovered this was due to the unofficial militia rising in the northern towns (the ones they’d stolen livestock from for two weeks while chasing the Central Army). These people were determined to kill whatever laguz they saw again, and since the Gallians were so badly injured and trying to make such haste, they were actually forced to avoid the angry peasants with pitchforks.

The mercenaries, however, were safe as long as the people didn’t realize they were associated with the laguz invasion. And Soren kept his hood up whenever he entered a town, so his Brand wouldn’t spur their fear and resentment. In these towns, the mercenaries collected rumors of civil unrest. The people whispered about Sephiran, who’d been stripped of his titles as prime minister and head of the senate. Apparently he’d been arrested for treason, but no one seemed to know what he’d done. The common folk debated whether the arrest was some mistake, whether Sephiran probably deserved his sentence, or whether the whole thing was hogwash in the first place. 

When the Begnion citizens realized the strange people listening to their conversations were actually foreign mercenaries, they would grow silent and distrustful. If Tibarn or one of the other hawks landed to speak with the mercenaries, the citizens would realize they were part of the invading army and turn hostile. If enough of the hawks were present to make themselves look like a formidable army, the people would panic and scatter. In this way, the mercenaries would buy or take what they needed and move on. (As per Ike’s instruction, they always left money behind, in cases where scattering took place.)

The Gallians were setting a quick pace despite their injuries, and the mercenaries and hawks only slept a few hours each night in an effort to catch up. Freezing rains were becoming more common each day, especially in the mornings and evenings, but the broken Laguz Alliance kept marching even when soaked to the bone. They couldn’t afford to slow down. Zelgius’s ceasefire had expired over a week ago, and neither Gallia nor Phoenicis had offered to participate in a peace talk. Both the Northern and Central armies would be pursuing them now. It wasn’t a matter of Zelgius losing control; he would run them out of Begnion too.

  

Eventually they arrived on the Sestohl Plains, soon to reach the Ribahn River. They were nearly to Telgam, and yet it was here that Soren, Ike, Tibarn, and the rest suddenly stopped. A hawk scout was flying fast toward them, and he transformed as soon as his talons touched the ground, running and flailing to expend his momentum.

“My King!” he said to Tibarn, finally coming to a stop, “The Gallian Army is just ahead. They have made camp on the eastern bank!”

“What? Why are they still here?” Tibarn demanded. “They should still be two days ahead of us!”

“They can’t.” The scout shook his head futilely. “They tried to cross the river and were attacked. Many are freshly injured and hundreds are already in the grave—I saw it myself!”

“Get ahold of yourself,” Tibarn ordered. “Who attacked them?”

“The Daein Army,” the scout answered, his eyes wide and his expression suddenly slack. “The Daein Army is holding the western bank.”