Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 85: ORDER ( Chapter 19 )

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

When Soren awoke, he was in a bed, covered in a blanket but otherwise stripped naked. A fire crackled nearby, and Soren was grateful for the waves of warmth on this face. His head was pounding, and he still felt like there were shards of ice imbedded all over his body. He tried to get up and assess the damage, but two thin hands pressed him back onto the pillow.

“Shh,” Elincia cooed, and Soren studied her expression, trying to determine if the deep shadow of mourning behind her eyes was indicative of the end of the world or if the battlefield of statues and Micaiah claiming to be a goddess had all been a strange fever dream. “I’m about to heal your injuries,” she said softly, “Just lie back.”

Soren craned his neck to see the rest of the room. This was the infirmary inside the ruins, but only ten or so of the beds were occupied and Elincia seemed to be the only healer present. She already had a staff in hand, so Soren obeyed her instruction and dropped his head. “Where’s Yune?” he asked, deciding that Elincia’s answer would reveal whether or not it had been a dream.

“She and Micaiah are resting,” Elincia answered. “She has not said anything more.”

“What time is it?”

“Not yet sundown,” she replied. “Ike only dropped you off a couple minutes ago. He said you fell unconscious after working with Yune. What are those injuries?”

Soren lifted the blanket to see that his torso and arms were still mottled with black splotches and streaks. No wonder he was still in pain. “Pelleas’s dark magic,” he said simply, dropping his head again.

Elincia nodded. “Not to worry, I’ll have you right as rain in a moment.” She adjusted her grip on the staff. “*Heal.*”

Soren hadn’t been healed by Elincia before, and he braced for the increased pain. But none came. Only a strange prickling warmth danced over his skin, sending shivers to his arms and legs but soon banishing those too. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; she was a talented stave magic user, and she’d healed laguz on the battlefield before. Surely a Branded wasn’t much of a challenge.

After two more incantations, the task was finally done. Elincia sat back in her chair and sighed. Soren pulled himself into a sitting position, and she handed him a cup of water from the bedside. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Still terrible, but better,” Soren answered honestly, “…Thank you.”

A faint smile flickered across Elincia’s face only to disappear again. “You were not the only one ignoring their wounds to listen to Yune speak.” She turned her gaze over the other people in the infirmary. “It must have been a hard battle. I am sorry I wasn’t there.”

Soren didn’t care to alleviate her survivor’s guilt, so he changed the subject, “What is everyone else doing?”

“Pooling supplies from the Apostle’s Army and the Daein Army,” Elincia answered promptly, “and outfitting the wagons. There is also the matter of rescuing some horses whose riders turned to stone on their backs. It would appear animals were unaffected by the blast.”

“Ashera’s judgement…” Soren thought aloud. He was still coming to terms with the fact that an omnipotent being he’d hardly believed existed only a few hours ago had actually struck the entire continent with a magical attack, turning every person to stone in an instant. Even more unbelievable was that the survivors were actually intending to march out and fight her.

“It’s all a bit hard to believe, isn’t it?” Elincia said quietly as if reading his mind.

“I should help with the preparations.”

“No, you should rest,” she replied firmly. “I will have food and clothes brought to you in a couple hours. Just sleep now.” Standing, she added: “Those were Ike’s orders.”

Since arguing with Elincia seemed like a waste of precious energy, Soren gave in and closed his eyes. “Fine then…” he mumbled, and sleep seized him.

 

After dressing, eating, fixing his tome, and packing his bag, Soren went to his own room for a few more hours’ sleep before dawn. When the day began, he voyaged outside to look at the statues. Yesterday’s snow had already melted, and the stone people hadn’t moved at all. But the corpses of those who’d died before Ashera’s judgment had been removed from the field. Turning his eyes to the east, he could see smoke rising from the pyres outside Castle Nox.

Although he hadn’t seen Ike yet, Mist had said he’d been full of energy after receiving Yune’s blessing and kept himself busy throughout the night—clearing the battlefield, cutting wood, moving supplies, rounding up horses, and overseeing all of the preparations. However, he’d inevitably crashed at the end of it and was now sleeping.

Soren tried to stop thinking about Ike and instead turned his attention back to the battlefield. With fresher eyes, he noticed the shattered or crumbling statues among the solid ones. Hawks had been turned to stone midair and crashed to the ground, smashing other statues wherever they’d landed. The same was true for pegasus and wyvern riders who’d fallen from their steeds. Seeing one dead pegasus with the stone legs of its rider still wrapped around its saddle, Soren found himself wondering what the mortal toll of Ashera’s judgement would be, even if they did manage to turn the stone people back to flesh and blood.

He considered the stone sailors inevitably lost at sea, the stone carpenters who must have fallen from ladders, the stone swimmers who must have sunk to the bottom of lakes, the stone dancers who’d been balancing on one foot only to fall and crack. Had the populations of Phoenicis and Kilvas been obliterated? And if so, why did Soren suddenly care?

He didn’t see how life could ever return to normal after this. Defeating Ashera felt useless, because somewhere a stone child was lying in pieces on the floor like a broken toy. But again, why did Soren care? Why did the dismembered stone hawk at his feet cause his heart to ache? Perhaps he just didn’t have the constitution to bravely face the end of the world like Ike and the others. Or perhaps he was just very, very tired.

 

“Each team will take a different route,” Yune announced an hour later, when the three groups were assembled and ready to move out, “but your destination is the same! It’s the Tower of Guidance that stands in the middle of the city you named Sienne. Go there at once!” She grinned widely. “I hope to see you all there. I’ll be waiting.”

“Waiting? Aren’t you coming with us?” Ike asked in confusion.

Yune shook her head. “I’ll see you at the tower.” A moment later, the blue flames reappeared around her, and this time they were funneled into the small, orange bird that sat on Micaiah’s shoulder. The bird twittered happily and flew away.

“A bird?” Ike asked in disbelief.

“Yune!” Sothe called. “Then she must be—” he caught Micaiah’s body, which slumped suddenly “—Micaiah!”

Her eyes fluttered open, and her irises were now a pale amber (and no longer glowing). “…Oh, hello, Sothe,” she said as if in a daze. Now that the goddess was gone, Soren felt like he was seeing (and sensing) Micaiah clearly for the first time. And to his astonishment, his senses were telling him she was Branded.

“You’re back! I was so worried.” Sothe hugged her tightly and pressed his lips into the side of her cheek just beside her ear. Soren stared, wondering if he had any idea what she was, and if so, how he could still love her anyway.

“Hey, if that bird was Yune…” Ike squinted at where it had disappeared. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know where, exactly,” Micaiah answered unsteadily, “but she said she must go look for…something.”

“Leaving us by ourselves?” Ike shook his head. “What’s she thinking?”

“At least we know what we have to do,” Tibarn pointed out optimistically, stepping to the front and turning to face the three teams. “Let’s move out for the tower!”

“May I have a moment before we leave?” Ena asked, approaching the three team leaders. “Prince Kurth has requested that I pass these out to the herons.” On her arm were strung three necklaces with large crystal pendants.

“Those are sending stones, right?” Ike asked, and Soren wondered how she’d come to possess a third in addition to hers and Kurthnaga’s.

“Correct. Fortunately for us, each heron has been assigned to a different team. King Tibarn, would you give this one to Prince Reyson?” She held out the first to the Hawk King, who accepted it with a surprised smile.

“That’s ideal!” he agreed. “We can each communicate with the other teams using the stones. Good idea.”

“Queen Nailah, please give this one to Prince Rafiel,” Ena said next.

“I will.”

“And the last one is for Princess Leanne.” She held it out to Micaiah, who was still leaning against Sothe, and when she raised her hand, it was shaking slightly.

Seeing this, Sothe’s hand shot out to grab it instead. “She’s on my team. I’ll give it to her.”

“Alright, now we’re ready to go!” Tibarn announced with finality. “See you at the tower!”

“Yeah, see you at the tower… Hopefully,” Ike added with a sad smile.

“Sheesh, what a downer,” Tibarn returned, walking away with his hands behind his head. Elincia followed him, leading her pegasus with one hand and waving with the other. They were heading straight east for now; they would cross into Begnion at Tor Garen.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to know each other better,” Ike said, offering his hand to Micaiah as if meeting her for the first time (which, Soren supposed, he was). “But I appreciate what you and Yune are trying to do. Take care of yourself.”

She accepted his hand despite her weakness, and Soren wondered what toll she paid to host a goddess in her body. “We must all do what we can,” she replied simply.

With that, Ike turned around and led his team straight south. They were heading to Tor Holvar. Looking over his shoulder, Soren saw Sothe lift Micaiah onto a wagon bench, and once again, he wondered at the fact that a beorc like Sothe could act so dotingly toward a Branded like Micaiah. In the end, he had to assume Sothe had no clue; perhaps Micaiah was just leading him on or using him for some purpose. A minute later, their group started moving too, and Soren stopped watching them.

He tried to distract himself and ended up thinking about the three armies’ routes again. The Silver Army would be heading southeast, between the other two armies, and crossing the Great Wall of Ivelt at yet another juncture. Soren estimated the march to Sienne would take each team about a month or so, and now he found himself wondering if they would all manage to arrive in the Begnion capital or if they would become statues somewhere on the long road.

 

The world was quiet, and wherever they went, no matter the hour, the Greil Army passed stone people frozen in their midday work. They rescued animals on occasion, whenever they heard barking dogs chained up outside or frantically clucking chickens locked inside a henhouse. They opened gates and barns to allow horses and livestock to fend for themselves, but with winter coming, Soren knew many would starve.

In a foolish attempt to avoid this, the rescuers tossed hay down from the tops of barns and propped open grain stores.  Soren knew the precious feed would just rot if exposed to the elements like this, and the animals would still die. However, he didn’t share this prediction with the rest of the team, since it wouldn’t do any good now.

 

Once they climbed into the mountains and passed through the wall, they encountered fewer villages and could momentarily forget the fate of the world. Soren could almost imagine the stone guards keeping watch over Tor Holvar were merely statues after all—an illusion meant to dissuade attackers. But when they descended again, the mountain villages on the Begnion-side reminded them that Ashera’s judgment had been all-encompassing.

It was around this time that they started voyaging into people’s cellars, stealing bits of preserved foodstuffs and salted meat that they justified by saying the stone people weren’t going to miss it. They even slaughtered hungry chickens and pigs they knew wouldn’t survive the next month. Although they still had plenty of hardtack and traveling rations, these treats helped make their slow progress through the silent world more tolerable. Even Soren appreciated the uptick in excitement and happier voices he heard when someone stole and shared something particularly tasty. Otherwise they trod glumly, and each day was marked with long periods of silence.

Ena and Kurthnaga were particularly quiet and kept to themselves. As Soren had learned in Goldoa, dragons didn’t cook their food, instead eating fruits, vegetables, eggs, meat, and fish almost completely raw, and they never dabbling in the baking of breads. The pair were adapting their diet to what was available, just as Nasir had once done, but the traveling biscuits seemed to only make the Dragon Prince sicker.

Ena explained that he was having a hard time recovering from the force of chaos he’d experienced on the battlefield, despite the fact that the force of order now lay on the world like a heavy blanket. The two-hundred-year-old boy was apparently quite sensitive to the struggles between Yune and Ashera’s power, and so his mind was at war with itself. He rarely spoke to the others, growing sallow and slow-moving.

Despite her own condition, Ena devoted herself to taking care of him, coaxing him to eat, dress, wash, march, and pack and unpack each day. In return, Mist took it upon herself to ensure that Ena was eating enough for herself and her unborn child, that she took breaks by riding in the wagon, and that she rested her feet and her back each evening. Ena was remarkably hardy, and although she surrendered to Mist’s ministrations, it seemed her main concern was her catatonic liege lord. Soren wondered if either of them would be able to fight when they reached Sienne.

 

Only five days after entering Begnion, Rafiel shared disturbing news from Leanne. Apparently the Silver Army had been attacked this afternoon when crossing the mountains into Seliora. They’d been resting within the wall fort when a small army had suddenly appeared in the valley below. This new enemy called itself the ‘Disciples of Order’.

“Ashera has freed them from stone to fight for her,” Rafiel explained, “and she’s blessed their weapons and armor. They’ll only get stronger as we approach the tower, and Leanne warns that they can appear without warning.”

“What does that mean?” Ike asked, clearly confused.

“Perhaps it is part of Ashera’s magic?” offered Nailah.

“Who were these people?” asked Titania, “Begnion soldiers?”

“Yes, Leanne reports that they were once soldiers in the senators’ army,” Rafiel continued, “But Ashera unpetrified them and bestowed them with enchanted golden armor and weapons of the strongest steel. In return, they appear to serve her zealously.”

“They must believe they were chosen for divine purpose,” Soren observed, then adding pointedly: “Just like us. They will serve Ashera just as fervently as we obey Yune. As we march for Sienne, they will seek to ambush us. We must proceed with caution.”

“Come on, Soren,” Titania sighed, “We are not blindly serving Yune like those supposed ‘disciples’ of Ashera. How can you say that?”

Soren was about to argue that they were doing exactly that, but Ike cut him off: “Is everyone alright?” he asked Rafiel urgently. “Twenty against a hundred aren’t good odds, even if they did have the wall to their advantage.”

Rafiel nodded. “Yes, Leanne reported that no lives were lost. Fortunately Prince Skrimir and King Naesala are quite skilled, and they were able to lead a defensive strike under Lady Micaiah’s and General Sigrun’s instruction.”

Ike grinned in relief. “It’s nice to hear that even former enemies can work together when the situation calls for it.”

“Has Naesala yet given an excuse for his treachery during the Laguz-Begnion War?” Soren asked idly. It was something he’d been wondering for a while now.

Ike shook his head. “No, but he promised he’s on our side now, and Sanaki vouched for him. I don’t quite understand how they know each other, but I trust her judgement.”

Soren didn’t have the same level of faith for the young empress who’d been beguiled by her own senators all her life, but he didn’t say so now.

“Leanne vouches for him as well,” Rafiel added, “and she has always had the remarkable ability to see into a person’s true heart.”

Soren wasn’t sure he trusted Rafiel’s judgement either, because he and Nailah had switched sides in the last battle and still not given a good excuse. But he wouldn’t accuse the heron of lying; he was their only connection to the other teams.

“Let’s hope we can work together just as well as the Silver Army,” Ike said, changing the subject. “I expect we’ll be seeing those Disciples of Order soon, and I know from experience that enchanted armor can be tricky.”

“Worse, they can attack at any moment and we’d have no idea where or how many they are,” Soren added. “I’ll start working on contingency plans.”

Ike nodded. “Alright, we’ll break here,” he decided, glanced around. “Everyone, be sure to keep your weapons and armor within reach tonight.”

Soren surveyed the area and decided it wasn’t a terrible place to camp because visibility was descent. This region was open except for a couple well-pruned orchards and a few clusters of young, unruly trees. He pointed to a nearby hill. “There,” he said, “If we can make fortifications around the top and erect our tents inside, we should be able to see any Disciples of Order before they reach us, no matter which direction they come from.”

Titania looked at the sky, which was thick with clouds. “It may snow tonight,” she said, “Are you sure?”

Although Soren agreed with her assessment, they were between villages right now and there were no forts or outposts nearby. “It is the best option in our immediate vicinity, and if we keep marching until dark, we risk being ambushed by the Disciples without any fortifications. At least here we will have a few hours to prepare.”

“Soren’s right,” Ike agreed. “Let’s get to work!”

 

Titania was also right, however, and while they were in the middle of filling sandbags with dirt, collecting water from the stream, and chopping wood for campfires and palisades, snow started fall heavily around them. There wasn’t enough wind to whip it into a full blizzard, so everyone continued working and ignored the snow that gathered around their feet and on their shoulders. Their breath turned to bursts of steam as the temperature dropped, and the world descended into inky blackness. The sun had set, and the storm clouds blocked the moonlight completely.

Their campsite was illuminated only by flickering firelight now, and Soren arranged watches so everyone would have a turn throughout the long night. Although he recommended those not on shift rest while they had the chance, no one did. They were restless in anticipation of a mysterious new enemy, but Soren supposed this was better than the calm passivity with which they’d been marching since Nox. They seemed more alive now.

Soren found he couldn’t sleep either, so instead, he trudged through the quickly-collecting snow to where Aimee sat dejectedly her wagon’s step. She seemed to miss her little family of merchants, but he hadn’t come to console her. “What do you have in stock for spells?”

“Not much,” she pouted, “It’s not like my contacts in these parts are doing me any good with everyone turned to stone.”

“I’ve seen you taking items from shops and leaving money,” he countered, “every time we pass through a town. Have you found anything useful?”

Aimee sighed. “Oh, I miss haggling!”

“Have you acquired any spell tomes or not?” Soren pushed her.

“Fine, fine.” Climbing into the wagon, she rummaged until she returned with an armful of scrolls and clusters of neatly bound pages.

Soren sorted through the ancient writing until he came across a hefty leaflet of wind spells he’d never seen before. “This is Rexcalibur,” he noted. “How did you get these?”

Aimee smiled, her mood obviously improving. “At a good deal,” she answered aloofly. “Do you want them?”

“That would depend on the cost.”

She tapped her chin. “With that Silver Card you’re holding onto, I’d say, oh, maybe twenty thousand gold.”

Soren glared. “I don’t have that much with me.”

Aimee tossed her shoulder. “Come back when you do.”

“You do realize we are facing the veritable end of the world, don’t you?” Soren pointed out. “How can you still be looking to make a profit?”

In reply, she chuckled and waved her hand. “I trust my brave mercenaries will save us, and I have new business ventures to plan when that happens.”

Soren wished he could share her confidence, but instead he just bought a few Elwind spells and others that were more reasonably priced. When he was done fitting these into his tome, he tried to get some rest. True sleep eluded him, but he pretended until Gatrie returned, saying it was his turn to stand watch.

Leaving his tent, Soren started walking around the hill’s perimeter, staring into the snowy dark. Several other mercenaries were still up, including Ike, who was talking to Ena outside her and Kurthnaga’s tent at the center of camp. Soren listened idly while he assessed the empty night. It seemed Ike was seeking an audience with the Dragon Prince and Ena was making excuses for his incapacitation.

That was when glowing lights suddenly filled the darkness; overlapping white circles and purple triangles tessellated across Soren’s vision, and it took him a moment to realize these shapes were appearing on the ground a hundred yards away in a perfect circle around the hill. Just as quickly as they’d come, they vanished, but as soon as they did, he felt the presence of at least a hundred beorc.

Soren didn’t waste any more time staring into the dark. The Disciples of Order clearly weren’t carrying lanterns, but the firelit campsite was a beacon for them to flock to. They would be here in less than a minute. He twisted around, shouting: “Ike, we are under attack! They’ve surrounded us!”

“What?” Ike demanded, “That’s impossible!” 

Soren wasn’t the only one to see the lights, and others were already shouting to one another in confusion. The beorc mercenaries couldn’t see or sense the enemy, but now that he’d declared they were surrounded, that message was being relayed.

 “Perhaps a hundred and fifty,” Soren estimated, and he hoped no one would be suspicious of how he’d inexplicably come to that number.

“How could they get this close without us sensing them?” Ena asked in awe.

Nailah and Rafiel were jogging up to them, and hearing Ena’s question, the Wolf Queen replied: “I don’t know. There was no sign or scent of their approach… I wonder if they simply materialized?” Shrugging as if that were as good an explanation as any, she then sank down into her wolf form. Without another word, she bounded off to take her assigned position. She would be in charge of the fortifications’ eastern gap (and guarding Rafiel, who trailed behind her on frail but hurried feet).

Ike drew his sword. “Ena, stay here!” he ordered, “Protect Kurthnaga’s tent at all cost! I assume you can still transform?”

“Understood.” Ena nodded. “And yes, should the need arise.”

“Take care of yourself,” Ike said before dashing away. Soren was right behind him, since they both had positions guarding the southern slope. “Everyone, watch the perimeter!” Ike called out as he ran, “There are a lot of them, but just focus on one enemy at a time!”

That was more or less the plan—to bottleneck the enemy at the four gaps in the wooden palisades and sandbag walls. Titania was guarding the north side of the hill, with Oscar, Shinon, and Rhys. Rhys was also supposed to make himself available to the Nailah’s eastern front, where she was fighting with Volug, Heather, and Rafiel. Soren, Ike, and Mist were stationed in the southern gap. But like Rhys, Mist was also supposed to support the west side, which Boyd was leading with Gatrie, Rolf, and Mia. Haar and Jill had been ordered to fly over the camp, supporting whichever side needed the most help and monitoring the fortifications to make sure no Disciples knocked down a wall and entered that way. Meanwhile, Aimee, Ena, and Kurthnaga were stationed at the center of the camp (entirely useless).

Although Soren had been the one to organize the deployment strategy, he now wondered if he’d left himself, Ike, and Mist too exposed.

“Here,” Ike said, pulled something out of his pocket and pushing it into Soren’s hands. To his bewilderment, they were the Rexcalibur pages.

“How-”

“Aimee gave them to me a little while ago,” Ike explained, raising his sword to face the golden-armored soldiers who were just now appearing in the camp’s sphere of light

Soren tucked the pages into his tome. “For free?” he asked in disbelief.

“You’re not the only one who can use your charms on that woman,” Ike laughed in reply. Just then, a row of advancing pikemen reached him, and he and Mist pivoted and slashed out with their swords in perfect symmetry.

Soren supported them from behind by chanting a few Elwind and Elfire spells, but it appeared these soldiers’ armor was indeed enchanted. Gusts that should have dug deep gouges left only minor scratches, explosions of fire were less impactful, and the soldiers’ clothing and skin seemed less flammable. Soren might have been able to mitigate the enchantment’s effect by aiming directly at places where their armor had little or no coverage, but in the snowy dark and with Ike and Mist fighting in front of him, that was easier said than done.

Reluctant to waste an unknown amount of magic on a new spell he’d never tried before, Soren put off using Rexcalibur for now. Instead he dipped into his third-tier spells: Tornado, Bolganone, and Thoron. Trying one after another, he was relieved to find that these still had a powerful effect on the Disciples, and he was able to take some of the pressure off Ike and Mist.

When Boyd called Mist to his front, she ducked away with an apology, and Soren stepped forward to take her place. As a sage, he was poorly suited to the frontlines like this, but that hadn’t never stopped him before. As long as he moved swiftly, was conscious of his surroundings, and stayed light on his feet, he could avoid any mortal wounds. And being closer to his enemy allowed him to aim his spells more carefully. To conserve energy, Soren now switched back to Elwind, Elfire, and Elthunder spells and merely took care in aiming them at the Disciples’ weak points.

When he and Ike threatened to be overwhelmed and pushed back into the interior of the camp, Jill swooped out of the sky, knocking down a line of swordsmen and chopping off the last one’s head. “Ya-hoo!” she cried in delight, and Ike laughed at her antics.

For the first time, Soren realized the positive atmosphere that was bubbling up from the mercenaries; they were more energetic than they had been for days. Apparently, all it took was a good fight with disastrous odds to remind them of who they were and what they were good at. That thought made Soren smile too, and he flipped boldly to the Rexcalibur pages.

“*Glaciate, spirits of wind,*” he sounded out the words, “*and lacerate. Ravage all you encompass.*” As with all new spells, the meaning of the words were imparted to his mind by the (likely long-dead) writer. The ink turned gray and blurry, their magic now depleted, and the elemental spirits that inhabited the air leapt to obey their new command.

Soren felt them tugging against the limits of his power, wanting to go faster than he was willing to allow. He tried to rein them in, but they were pulling his own power out of him now, gobbling it up and demanding more. As their strength increased, so did their hunger. All of this occurred in only a couple seconds, and Soren severed the connection before the spirits could take too much. He released the spell and braced himself for the effect.

In the spur of the moment, Soren hadn’t chosen a specific target, instead sending the winds in the general direction of the twelve or so enemies eagerly awaiting their chance to fight Ike and push their way into the camp. The winds coalesced around them now, concentrating on the few in the middle, but rather than slashing or pushing them, something quite strange happened. The winds were condensing into a sort of crystalline prism that would have been invisible if not for the falling snow and the way it refracted the camp’s torchlight. Within the prism, the soldiers’ movements slowed until the ones at the center appeared completely immobilized. Then, the ice-like sheets exploded from the inside out. Spiraling blades of wind gyrated on a central axis, growing upward and outward.

The soldiers at the center of the prism had no escape, being rent into several pieces in an instant. Those immediately outside of it were cut and their bodies thrown, and those beyond were knocked down as if by a terrible force. Then the ring of wind hit Soren and Ike too, knocking them both onto their backs.

These gusts had not been sharp, and the accumulation of snow was high enough now that Soren avoided having the air knocked out of him, but it was still quite a shock. “Ike!” he called out, scrambling to his feet.

Ike was also getting his legs back under him, apparently uninjured. “What the hell, Soren?” he complained, but he was grinning, “That’s it; I’m taking those spells back!”

“My apologies, Commander,” Soren replied. “Perhaps I was a tad overzealous.”

Ike’s laugh turned into a grunt as he blocked the strike of a golden-armored knight. He was one of the few to have risen after the Rexcalibur attack, which meant Soren and Ike’s momentarily incapacitation hadn’t cost them any ground.

Soren conjured a few Thunder spells to stun (and therefore momentarily fend off) a sword-wielding Disciple who had also survived. Rexcalibur had sapped a lot of his power, so he would have to be careful and conserve what he had left. Fortunately, he was given a break a moment later, when both Jill and Mist returned at the same time.

“What happened over here?” Mist asked in surprise when she saw the dismembered bodies left by the explosion.

Instead of answering her, Soren asked how the western front was faring. He also stepped back to let her fight side-by-side with her brother, where her sword would be most useful.

“They’re holding on,” she replied grimly, while parrying a blow. “But I don’t know how much longer.”

“The Disciples are acting more cautious; they’re not charging all at once,” Ike observed, while easily slashing open a spearman’s chest cavity. (It appeared their enchanted armor was no match for the holy sword Ragnell.) “I think their numbers must be dwindling. We just need to hold out a little longer.”

In answer, Mist started moving her blade faster. She and Ike were quite a team, and sometimes they mirrored each other as they each fought in a variation of Greil’s style. Soren supported them with his elemental magic, and when Ike caught an arrow in his shoulder, he swiftly cast Bolganone to carve a moat of lava. This kept the Disciples at bay while Mist healed her brother.

The archer who’d hit Ike fired again, but missed. Afraid that he wouldn’t miss a second time, Soren maintained his connection to the Bolganone spell, keeping it hot and wide, while also uttering an Elwind spell to take out the archer before he could try again. (Apparently dual casting was something he would have to get used to now that the world was ending.)

Perhaps seeing the glowing lava, Haar and Jill circled around to lend support, and Soren was finally able to release the spell. He chanted Tornado and Elfire to protect the gap while also being careful of his allies’ wings. When Ike was safely healed again, he and Mist retook their positions, and Haar and Jill peeled off to a different front.

Not long later, a pegasus knight flapped into the sphere of firelight. Although she could have flow straight into the camp and disrupted the mercenaries’ defense from within, she did not. Instead she called down to Ike: “I am Catalena, chosen of the one true Goddess Ashera! What name do you claim, cur?”

“I’m Ike,” he called back, “Of the Greil Mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries?” she repeated in disgust.

“Yup,” Ike agreed. “The goddess Yune hired us to fight her sister.”

“Blasphemy!”

“So are you here to surrender or not?” Ike asked, pointing the tip of his sword at her.

“Pawns of your execrable goddess!” cried Catalena. “You shall die! You are a festering wound in the flesh of the world! Die, and let it heal!”

“I suppose talking it over is out of the question?” Ike sighed. He pulled his blade closer to himself and adjusted his grip in anticipation of her first strike.

Both she and her stead were well armored, and she handled her lance expertly. Ike fended her off but was unable to make a significant counterattack. Leaving the remaining enemy soldiers to Mist, Soren turned his attention to helping Ike. Chanting several Elwind spells back-to-back, he released each one as soon as he completed it, and he made their sole purpose to disrupt the pegasus’s wings. The creature couldn’t follow through with any of its trajectories, and after floundering in the air for a minute, Catalena gave up and landed her steed. Ike met her on even ground, and she did not last long.

“Death?” she asked no one in particular when Ike wrenched her off the saddle with his sword through her gut. “But my work is not yet…complete…”

Although she seemed to be the commander of this group of Disciples, her death didn’t dissuade them from fighting. Even when only a dozen remained, and the mercenaries were easily picking them off, the zealots continued to praise Ashera and shout their willingness to die for her:

“Our bodies may die, but our souls have already ascended!”

“Mother Ashera forgives us our sins!”

“We are as martyrs before the mending of the world!”

Soren was glad when the last one died, and his words died with him.

“That looks like the lot of them,” Ike sighed, walking the perimeter. “Fanatics that appear out of nowhere and attack from darkness…” He stopped and shook his head. “This’ll be tough.” Since everyone had congregated to hear what he had to say, he began giving orders: “Nailah, sniff around and make sure we’re really alone. Titania, see to the dead. Mist, Rhys, the living. Rafiel, sit down before you pass out. Everyone else, see what you can do about fixing the barriers. I don’t expect we’ll receive more visitors tonight, but we’re better safe than sorry.” With that, he walked back into the center of camp.

Since there were plenty of people to check the fortifications, Soren followed Ike and wasn’t surprised when he stopped outside Ena and Kurthnaga’s tent. Ena was standing there, looking shaken. She had blood on her hands and a knife in her grip. Two bodies (both viciously stabbed) lay on the ground at her feet.

“Ena, are you alright?” Ike asked in alarm. “Why didn’t you transform?”

“I didn’t want Prince Kurthnaga to be frightened,” Ena answered, while Ike slipped the knife from her hand and tossed it aside. “So I tried to hold them off in this shape. He hates blood…”

“This can’t go on,” Ike growled. “I’m going to talk to him.” With that, he barged into the tent. “Hey, Prince Kurthnaga!”

The prince must have been awake, because Soren immediately hear him hiss and groan in response: “Stay away!”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you remember me?” came Ike’s reply.

Kurthnaga groaned again. “That smell… The blood…on your sword…”

“What, this? No problem. I’ll drop it over there.” A moment later, Ike chucked Ragnell unceremoniously out of the tent flap. “Hey, look—no sword. Are you okay now?”

Ena suddenly touched Soren’s arm and whispered: “We should give them some privacy.”

He didn’t know if it was recommendation or an order, but either way, he obeyed. They walked until they reached Mist’s tent, where Ena excused herself and ducked inside to wash up. Now that she was gone, Soren considered circling back around to eavesdrop on Ike and Kurthnaga, but he resisted that temptation. Thanks to the dragons’ strong senses, he doubted he would be able to get close enough to hear and still escape notice.

Instead he sought out Aimee, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Some soldiers made it into the camp and attacked Prince Kurthnaga’s tent,” he said when he found her, because it was as good an excuse as any. “I assume you’re fine?”

“Oh, I was well hidden,” Aimee replied with a casual wave of her hand. “But I am touched by your concern.”

“I wouldn’t call it concern.”

She smiled slyly in reply.

“I got your gift,” he said to change the subject. He tapped his tome meaningfully. “What made you change your mind?”

“Well, you know—” Aimee shrugged “—it seemed like a good way to get Ike’s attention.”

Soren narrowed his eyes. “You said you would leave him alone.”

She smiled again. “Facing one’s mortality does change things. If these are to be my final days, why not go out with a bang?”

“So much for trusting we’ll prevail.”

Aimee shook her head in mock-censure. “You can’t blame a girl for trying. It’s not like you were ever going to do anything.”

“You’re confused,” Soren shot back, walking away before she could make further accusations. “But thanks again for the spells,” he added before he’d gone too far.

 

Soren assisted with fortifications—restacking unbroken sandbags—for a short while before seeking Ike again. When he determined he must have finished speaking with Kurthnaga, he following the beacon of his presence and found him in his own tent.

“Did he have an explanation for his involvement with Daein?” Soren asked simply. He had no doubt Ike would share his intelligence, which was why he was confused when he gritted his teeth and hesitated.

“I can’t say,” he finally replied. “I vowed on Father’s grave that I wouldn’t repeat a word of what he told me.”

“Why?” Soren asked incredulously.

“He trusted me with his secret, so I promised not to. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is it an important secret?” Soren asked suspiciously.

“Every secret is important to the secret-holder,” Ike answered with a shake of his head. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“But if it is relevant to our-”

“It’s not relevant,” Ike cut him off quickly. “It’s just a personal matter; it’s not going to help us defeat Ashera.”

Soren was silent for a moment as he analyzed this deflection, looking for a weakness. “Very well,” he finally decided, “So Kurthnaga aided Daein for personal reasons. I will try not to be too curious.”

“Thanks,” Ike said in obvious relief. But then he grew conflicted again. “I really wish I could tell you though…”

Soren’s curiosity was piqued even more, but he didn’t want to force Ike to break a vow. (Such things were important to him.) “You tease,” he said airily. “That’s unfair.”

Ike’s mouth twitched into a small grin.

Soren changed the subject before Ike could say something he would regret. “Dragon princes aside, I wanted to speak to you about Catalena.”

“Catalena?” Ike repeated, perhaps having already forgotten the Disciples’ commander.

“The pegasus knight,” Soren clarified. “I recognized her name. She was one of the few Holy Guards who returned to Begnion with Zelgius. In the days before our siege of Castle Nox, I received reports from her concerning the progress of Zelgius and Sephiran’s rebellion.”

“Then she betrayed the apostle.”

“It is not that simple,” he explained quickly. “She had no reason to know about Yune or what happened back in Daein. Whether she believed Sanaki was a false-apostle or not is irrelevant now. She was turned to stone, and Ashera unfroze her. That is all she knew.”

Ike nodded slowly. “So, these Disciples of Order are from both the senators’ and Sephiran’s armies...”

“I merely wanted to point out this fact, and to raise the possibility that—” Soren hesitated a moment before plunging back in “—we may find Zelgius and Sephiran themselves in the Disciples of Order’s ranks. If so, Zelgius is sure to be a difficult opponent. Of course, there is no guarantee our paths will cross, but-”

“It’s worse than you know,” Ike said somberly, cutting him off.

“What do you mean?”

He cupped his head in his hands. “I should have told you. And Titania. And Mist. I should have told everyone. I’m sorry. I just- I still find it hard to believe myself.”

“What are you blathering on about?” Soren asked, hoping to jog Ike out of his sudden bout of uncharacteristic anxiety.

He took a steadying breath. “Zelgius is the Black Knight. He has been serving both Daein and Begnion this whole time.”

Soren was admittedly shocked by this claim, but he wondered if he should have somehow guessed these two figures were connected. “How do you know?”

“Ranulf told me before we split up. He’s known ever since he fought Zelgius on the Sestohl Plains. He said it was just like when he fought the Black Knight in Toha.”

Soren wished he could discredit Ranulf’s senses and memory. After all, those two fights had been almost eight years apart. But this revelation felt true. Suddenly he found himself recalling what Greil had once said about his former Branded student. The Black Knight had also been his student. Shouldn’t he have realized they were one and the same? And although Soren had never been close enough to the Black Knight to realize the truth, he had been close enough to Zelgius. Perhaps Soren truly had been a fool for not suspecting his identity.

“I guess we were wrong about Zelgius being the perfect soldier,” Ike said after a while. “He must have always been serving two masters for his own gain.”

“What gain would that be?” Soren replied, suddenly fearing what he didn’t understand. “There is still much we do not know… But Zelgius may still have been serving a single master this whole time,” he proposed tentatively. “Someone who wanted Ashnard to have the medallion, who wanted to keep Micaiah alive during the Daein Rebellion, and who wanted to drag out every war along the way.”

“What do you mean?” Ike asked, and there was a slight nervousness to his voice.

“Think about it,” Soren continued. “He brought reinforcements to Nevassa so we could confront Ashnard in Crimea. Then he led reinforcements to Melior even though we didn’t ask for them. He gave up his command as Warden of New Daein to some weak upstart and allowed the citizenry to rebel. In fact, he even donned the armor of the Black Knight and helped them. Then, as Zelgius, he sparred with Skrimir in Gaddos, not so that the bloodshed could end, but so the Laguz-Begnion War could continue without a decisive defeat. He marched through Crimea to Gallia with a whining senator on his sleeve as an excuse. Then he returned to Begnion only to spur a civil war.” Soren’s voice had only become angrier as his words ran away with him. “He did all of this under the guise of nobility, loyalty, and mercy.”

“Then, all this time,” Ike said, seeming to agree with him, “he’s only served one master.”

“Sephiran,” they said at the same time, and their voices lapsed into silence.

Finally Ike spoke again: “Sephiran wanted the force of chaos to wake Yune and Ashera… But why would he want to bring about the end of the world? Who would want that?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer Soren could offer. “But it is only a theory for now. You may tell Titania, Mist, and the others the identity of Greil’s killer, but I do not recommend we breathe a word of our suspicions. Especially not to Sanaki.”

Ike seemed to consider this a moment, but then he nodded his consent. “Alright.”

“For now, let us merely be wary of meeting Zelgius or Sephiran among the Disciples of Order.”

“They’ll have some explaining to do if our paths cross again,” Ike growled, and Soren appreciated the fire behind his eyes even if he did fear that his friend was sorely outmatched.

“There is one last thing,” Soren added, not knowing if it was relevant but wanting Ike to know the truth. “Zelgius—the Black Knight—he’s Branded.”

“What?”

“It is probably not important,” Soren rushed to say, “but I wanted you to know.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since Gaddos,” Soren answered honestly. “Ranulf may have sensed it about him too… I don’t know.”

“He didn’t mention it,” Ike grumbled.

“No one ever does.” Soren shook of his head.

Ike suddenly roared in frustration, rubbing his hands into his face and whispering hoarsely: “How can everyone pretend the Branded don’t exist if they’re central to everything that’s going on?”

“Wait,” Soren said, suddenly confused. “You know about Micaiah?”

Ike dropped his hands and stared at him. “What! Her too?”

Soren realized he’d spoken out of turn. He hadn’t meant to spill her secret. Then again, keeping other people’s secrets seemed rather pointless when facing the potential extinction of every person in Tellius. “Apparently not…”

Ike shook his head again and groaned. “This is too much; I’m going to bed.”

“I apologize,” Soren said, although he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt apologetic. Perhaps for taking so much of Ike’s time after a difficult battle. “You should rest.”

“No, I was joking,” Ike said hurried. “It’s fine.”

“But you’re right,” Soren argued, suddenly feeling his own exhaustion. “We do not have much time until dawn, and we have another long day of marching ahead. I will leave you alone.”

“Wait…” Ike reached out his hand but stopped halfway and used it to smother a yawn instead. “You can stay here if you want.”

“What?”

“These tiny tents Daein gave us are fine and all,” Ike explained, seeming suddenly embarrassed, “but I don’t have a double, and I kind of miss being around everyone else. Plus it’s freezing outside, so I just…wanted to offer…”

His pinkening cheeks were making Soren embarrassed. Ike’s exhaustion and emotional distress about the Black Knight may have caused him to make an offer he regretted, to show a vulnerability he usually hid. But surely Soren’s transgression was worse—because he desperately wanted to accept. He knew he shouldn’t, but Aimee words echoed in his mind: ‘It’s not like you were ever going to do anything,’ she’d goaded him. Well, now Soren was going to do something.

“Very well,” he finally answered. “Your feet do smell far less vile than Gatrie’s, so I do not see why not.”

Ike gave a small, almost pained smile, but at least he didn’t retract his offer and ask Soren to leave. Instead, he laid out an extra blanket beside him. “There’s plenty of room.”

“Yes, I see that,” Soren replied dismissively. “I am sure you were given this tent because of your position of authority. Most people would appreciate the privacy.”

Ike shrugged before leaning back. “No one likes being alone,” he said simply. “…Not when Ashera already hates us and we’re one more goddess-blast from being turned into a bunch of rocks.”

“Yes, I suppose that does give a little perspective,” Soren agreed simply. “Shall I get the light?”

“Yeah,” Ike yawned again.

With that, Soren extinguished the lantern and nestled into the blanket Ike had given him. There was only one bedroll, and Ike shifted to make room. They would each take half, and it was as good enough excuse as any to be close to him. Listening to his quiet breathing, Soren soon fell into a deeper, more restful sleep than he had in a long time.