Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 89: GUIDING TOWER ( Chapter 23 )

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

When the tower team was prepared to leave, the rest of the survivors paused in their fortification-building to say goodbye. All of the Disciples’ corpses had disappeared less than a quarter hour ago, which was an ominous sign that they would be reanimated and attack again soon. Regardless of the danger, however, no one wanted to let Ike and the others enter the tower without well-wishes. Soren lined up with the rest, even though he didn’t expect anyone to seek him out.

He was wrong. Ilyana and Aimee were the first to approach.

“Here,” Ilyana held out a small bag. “They’re chestnuts and dried apricots,” she explained in response to his questioning gaze. “They’re my favorite this time of year...” She stared at the bag hungrily but let it go.

“You’re giving me food?” Soren asked in disbelief. “Willingly?”

Ilyana just sighed sadly. She was still looking at the bag.

“There you go, Ilyana my dear.” Aimee wrapped an arm around her friend. “See? There is more to life than food.”

“Thank you,” Soren suddenly remembered to say.

“Be safe,” Ilyana offered.

Soren nodded.

“Take care of my Ikey-poo,” Aimee teased, but then her smile flickered away. “And take care of yourself. We’ll all be thinking of you from out here.”

Soren nodded again. “Good luck to you too.”

With that, Ilyana and Aimee went to say goodbye to Mist farther down the line. A moment later, they were replaced by Tormod and Muarim.

“Good luck!” Tormod cheered. “Give ‘em hell!”

“That is the plan.”

Muarim chuckled deeply. “My Tormod has learned a lot from you. I wanted to express my gratitude before we parted ways.”

“Hey!” Tormod complained. “I was gonna say that!”

Soren stared at Tormod, waiting for an explanation.

“I’ve never had a magic teacher, and most everything I learned was from watching people like you and Calill and Ilyana. I’m pretty strong now—” he grinned widely “—so thanks!”

“I am glad I could be of service,” Soren replied, although he’d had no idea Tormod had been paying any attention to him during the Mad King’s War.

Tormod nodded firmly and turned to walk away, but Muarim lingered. “There is a second thing I wish to say,” he said after a moment. “I once misspoke in your presence… No.” He shook his head as if restarting: “More than a few careless words, I have actively worked to keep beorc and laguz separate.” Tormod looked up at his adopted father quizzically. “I defended the systems I abhor, because I chose order and compromise over true reform.” The tiger gazed up at the Tower of Guidance for a moment and then shook his head. “I see now how dangerous order can be.”

Soren had not expected Muarim to recall that day in Zunanma City, let alone bring up the matter here. He hadn’t expected it to weigh on the man’s mind at all—not when he’d had his own people to protect, his city to build, the feral ones to avenge, or Daein’s rebellion to fight. At that thought, Soren wondered if it had been Micaiah or Yune who’d changed his mind. Whatever the case, he didn’t ask and merely said: “I understand.”

Muarim nodded. “Then please, take care inside the tower.” With that he turned to leave.

Tormod clearly didn’t understand Muarim’s apology, and he glanced from him to Soren in confusion. But then he seemed to decide it didn’t matter and followed after the tiger, waving and calling behind him: “Good luck!”

They were moving toward Micaiah’s line to say their farewells, and when they were far enough away, Soren turned his attention to the next person approaching him: Stefan. He was one of the only people Soren had expected might say something. They weren’t exactly friends, but Stefan had always been friendly toward him, in his own (rather intrusive) way.

“If we both survive, you should come with me to the desert,” he offered. “You needn’t stay, but you should meet your own people.”

Soren shook his head. “If we both survive this, you and your people should leave the desert,” he countered. “What’s the point of saving the world if you don’t see any of it?”

Stefan shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Soren decided to push further. “What if there were a place they could live safely without hiding?”

“What if there were such a place?” Stefan returned.

“There is an abandoned city in the Erzt Mountains,” Soren found himself saying, although he didn’t know where the idea came from. “It belongs to no nation, but it is at the center of the continent. It’s defensible, and it’s rich in ore and potential trade routes. It just has to be dug out a bit.”

“What an interesting notion…” Stefan rubbed his chin.

Soren shook his head to banish the thought. “Never mind.”

“Perhaps you can tell me more about this strange city upon your return,” Stefan replied diplomatically. “Should we both survive.”

“I will do my best.”

“As will I,” Stefan promised.

When he moved away, Nephenee took his place. “Hiya, Sor’n!” she greeted him brightly. “You ready for this?”

Soren simply nodded.

Nephenee’s cheerful expression faded slightly. “Before ya go, there’s somethin’ I wanted to tell ya.”

“And that would be?”

“It sure is strange… Some uh’the others think the tower has somethin’ t’do with it, but since I’ve been ‘ere, I’ve been thinkin’ about so many little thin’s I f’got. I’ve been thinkin’ about home, and my fam’ly, and…” She shook her head and then asked sheepishly: “By an’chance, did ya go to my grandaddy’s bir’day one time?”

Soren was surprised she would remember such a thing, and he wondered if Ashera’s influence had something to do with it after all. “Yes,” he finally answered.

Nephenee stared back in shock. “Really? That was you? I thought I was goin’ nuts!” she laughed. “Gosh, you were jus’ a li’l kid.”

“It was a long time ago,” Soren replied coolly.

Nephenee sighed again. “I can’t b’lieve our paths crossed ‘gain. And now we’re ‘ere?” She shook her head again, and Soren said nothing. “When all this’s over, ya should come visit ‘gain,” she offered with a small smile. “Ya won’t have to slip ‘way without sayin’ g’dbye this time.”

“Very well,” Soren found himself accepting. “When all of this is over.”

Nephenee waved as she left, and now Calill walked up while balancing Amy on her hip. The little girl smiled brightly and reached out when she saw Soren, but Calill didn’t put her down. “Amy wanted to wish you luck,” she explained. “Go ahead, honey.”

“Good luck!” Amy called, kicking her legs. “Smash da bad lady and turn Daddy back to normal!”

Soren nodded. “I will try, Amy.”

Calill eyed him uncertainly.

Soren decided this might be his last chance to tell her the truth. “Calill…” he began. “Do you know who Amy’s parents were?” He adjusted his phrasing: “Do you what she is?”

Calill looked surprised at the accusation, but then she caught herself and her expression calmed. She gingerly stroked Amy’s cheek. “Yes,” she answered, “but I don’t care. She’s my daughter. That’s all that matters.”

Now it was Soren who was surprised, but in truth, he’d hoped this was the case all along. “Good,” he said. Then, to cut off the awkward silence he felt starting between them, he added: “Give her a good home.”

“Of course.” Calill nodded once. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Amy glanced from Calill to Soren like she had no idea what they were talking about. “We’re going home?” she asked hopefully.

“Soon,” Calill promised, smoothing back her hair. With that, she gave Soren a long parting glance, and walked away.

“Good luck!” Amy called again, waving over her mother’s shoulder.

Next to say goodbye was Danved, Kieran, and Brom, all of whom offered exaggeratedly tear-stained farewells and big hugs. Soren had seen them working their way down the line and known this was coming. He withstood the barrage of affection until they moved on.

Then it was Bastian who approached. “Pray, might I enlist your aid once again?” he asked hopefully.

Soren narrowed his eyes. “What could you possibly want now?”

Bastian’s smile was small, but there was still a confident twinkle in his eye. “Watch over our fair Queen Elincia,” he said, “It burdens my heart heavily to know I shan’t be at her side in this battle to end all battles. But in what better company can she find herself than the Mercenaries of Greil?”

“Very well,” Soren agreed, willing to play along, “We can discuss our wage when we get back. But it will cost you.”

Bastian’s smile stretched wider, and he offered his hand. “'Tis a contract among men,” he declared when Soren shook it. “Now I need not fear in the least, for I know Elincia shall be safer than a babe at its mother’s bosom.”

“Sure,” Soren agreed, only willing to play for so long. Satisfied, Bastian twirled away. The crowd of well-wishers was thinning now. Almost everyone was standing back, having said their piece, and were now waiting to watch the team depart.

Tauroneo seemed to be the last waiting to speak with Soren. “Hello again, lad,” he greeted him. “You and Gawain’s son have come a long way. You will continue to watch out for him, won’t you?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Soren promised. “I will never leave him.”

“Good,” Tauroneo replied contentedly. “Aye, that’s good.”

Soren turned his head to see Ike now. He was saying goodbye to Aimee, and the shopkeeper was latched onto his arm, crooning up at him while he laughed nervously and tried to scrape her off.

Tauroneo walked away, and Soren realized he’d been wrong about the old general being the last one. Titania wrapped him in a tight hug, catching him by surprise. “Oh! Please take care of yourself,” she bid before letting go, “and Ike. I want to see you both at the end of this, I really do.”

Soren said nothing, because he felt he’d been repeating himself during these farewells—promising again and again that he would try his best to protect Ike and himself, to defeat Ashera and save everyone. But the truth was he couldn’t make any promises. No one could.

“I know we don’t always agree,” Titania continued, stepping back, “but I have enjoyed working with you these past few years. And I am just as proud of how much you’ve grown as I am of Ike. Seeing you smile with everyone else now—you’re so different than you used to be.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Soren replied carefully, “…I think.”

Titania chuckled but then her smile turned sad. “I told you once not to live in regret like me,” she said slowly, “Do you remember that?”

“Dimly,” Soren replied.

Titania nodded before continuing: “I wonder now, if it might be worse to die in regret.”

He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

“Tell Ike how you feel,” she finally said, and her voice was soft. “I never told Greil, and I lost my chance. But if I imagine our roles were reversed and I had died before him, even if I died for him, I would have- I would have still regretted it. Not telling him. I still do. Every day.”

“You…never told him,” Soren repeated. He’d always wondered.

Titania shook her head. “Tell Ike how you feel,” she repeated. “So that, no matter what happens…” She shook her head again and stepped back.

Only then did Soren realize Titania had probably known about his feelings for Ike for a long time. A wave of embarrassment rolled over him, but it passed as quickly as it came. There were far more important things to worry about now.

Titania offered a final wave before joining the rest of Yune’s Chosen who would stay to guard the entrance. Soren’s hand rose in answer. He didn’t know if he would follow Titania’s advice, but did appreciate that she cared enough to give it.

 

Finally, the Greil Mercenaries—accompanied by Micaiah (Yune), Sothe, Tibarn, Reyson, Ena, Kurthnaga, Sanaki, Skrimir, and Ranulf—walked into the Tower of Guidance. The massive doors weren’t locked, sliding easily inward at Yune’s touch.

Inside, they found themselves in a grand, round hall filled with silvery blue light despite the fact there were no braziers, windows, or any other light source. The empty room was broken only by huge, engraved columns. On the opposite side was an enormous carved door. Soren knew this room was the size of the tower’s footprint. There shouldn’t have been a door on the other side, because there was no back door behind the tower. Furthermore, there should have been stairs, because this was, indeed, a tower. But not only were there no stairs, there wasn’t even a ceiling. Looking up was like looking at a starless night sky. Even the tops of the pillars disappeared. Growing dizzy, Soren decided not to look up again.

“It’s…so quiet,” Ike said, and his voice had no echo. The room swallowed his words. “Is the goddess here?”

“Uh-huh,” Yune affirmed, “She’s at the top. Be careful, everyone. This tower is Ashera’s home territory. She’s certain to have her most powerful troops waiting for us up ahead. We must proceed with the utmost caution.”

With that, Yune and Ike led the party to the other side, and Yune once again opened the door just by touching it. This time, a massive stairwell was revealed beyond. The fact that this didn’t make any sense momentarily stretched Soren’s mind in abject confusion. But recalling Yune’s warning, he forced himself to accept whatever he saw here.

 

The stairs kept going, twisting and turning, for a long time. Sometimes there were walls; sometimes there were not. When there weren’t walls, Soren could look over the edge of the stairs and see an abyss below. Like looking at the ceiling in the entrance hall, this was like looking at the sky. It had no end, and Soren’s sense of up and down would surge back and forth if he gazed too long.

Once he’d regained his balance and continued moving, he tried to glance backward, to see where the stairs were coming from, but they merely extended forever, much farther than they could have already walked. Or had they? Soren found he couldn’t quite remember if they’d been here for only a minute, an hour, or a day.

When he looked ahead, he had the same problem. The stairs doubled back, went up and down again, passed parts of itself, and levelled out onto platforms that should certainly not have been floating with nothing to suspend them. Sometimes there were vast round walls visible in the distance, surrounding them; sometimes there were not. Sometimes mighty pillars and bits of rubble appeared on either side, but Soren’s mind would become awash with confusion if he tried to figure out what they were attached to, when they’d entered his field of vision, or where they went when he passed them.

“Try not to look down,” Yune advised when some of the others voiced their bewilderment. “Just keep going.” Then she returned Micaiah’s body, and the team proceeded without her guidance.

Soren tried to take her advice and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Despite the distance they were climbing and the fact that the stairwell was at times quite steep, his legs never felt tired.

 

Eventually the stairs led the mercenaries to a long platform that stretched farther than any entrance hall or ballroom ever should. It lacked walls, and on either side of it, short staircases branched off, leading to smaller platforms that connected back down to the main platform at the opposite end. Deployed on the main floor and (from what Soren could see) on the peripheral, higher platforms, were hundreds of Disciples of Order. Fortunately (or not), these people seemed much more alive than the ones they’d fought outside the tower; they shifted their weight and glared self-righteously at the mercenaries.

Standing at the forefront of the army was an old man with white-streaked yellow hair, large muttonchops, and a bit of a beard. He was neatly groomed, however, and dressed in red-fringed white robes and a belt of woven gold. In his hand he wielded what Soren now recognized as a Rewarp staff. He assessed the mercenaries with interest as they spilled onto his battlefield.

“Well, well… ‘Apostle’ Sanaki,” he greeted her when she stomped to the front. “What a surprise seeing you here. Frankly, I’m amazed that you, of all people, would dare to set foot inside the most holy Tower of Guidance.”

Sanaki clenched her fists and knotted her jaw but didn’t fall for the bait.

Micaiah and Sothe, on the other hand, ran past Sanaki—even though this put them within range of the Disciples’ longbows. “Lekain!” Micaiah shouted. “We’ve been looking for you a long time!”

“Oh?” Lekain laughed, apparently unconcerned. He didn’t yet signal his troops to attack. Meanwhile, Ike was nudging everyone (except Sanaki, Micaiah, and Sothe) into an offensive formation.

“You bound Daein to your awful pact, hounded noble King Pelleas, and stole countless lives in your appalling war!” Micaiah accused with an outstretched finger. “You are…beyond redemption!” She gestured sharply to the ground, and Sothe touched her arm (possibly to stop her from racing forward and attacking Lekain on her own).

“Beyond redemption?” Lekain repeated. “My, that does sound dreadful. Whatever will you do with me?” he laughed, but then he narrowed his eyes and grew serious. “Oh, and let me remind you, the blood pact is still in effect. You would do well to remember that. I think you know what will happen to the people of Daein if you should dare oppose me.”

Soren, for one, did not know what would happen to the people of Daein, and he glanced at Ike, who just shrugged as if to say he didn’t know either. Soren had never heard of a ‘blood pact’ before, but if what Micaiah was implying was true, then it could be the reason Daein had supported Begnion in the war.

“Enough,” Micaiah growled back. “We fear your threats no longer. No more will we bow to your every whim. Now that we’ve found you, we will exact justice upon you, then destroy the blood pact itself, ending its power over us!”

“So you figured it out, did you?” Lekain laughed again. “It matters not. This changes nothing.” He rummaged in his sleeve for a moment and extracted a tightly bound piece of paper. “Here is the scroll for which you’ve been searching so diligently,” he cooed, giving it a little wave. “Right here in my hands.”

“Ah!” Micaiah cried out. She stepped forward despite Sothe’s grip, and a Disciple archer fired a warning shot near her foot. The arrow broke on the stone floor and clattered away, but it was enough to make her stop in her tracks.

“And yet, none of you will ever lay one grimy finger upon it,” Lekain sighed happily, returning the scroll to his sleeve. Reaching around himself, he plucked a light tome from a holster on his lower back. With it in his left hand and the Rewarp staff in his right, he raised his arms. “I have been blessed by the Goddess herself!” he announced, “Her protection will not allow you fleas to even approach me!”

“Lekain!” Sanaki snarled. “Cease this travesty of virtue at once!”

“What have we here?” Lekain lowered his arms. “Oh, yes, the apostle. Excuse me, child, but I had completely forgotten you were here. But somehow, despite the extraordinary plans of great men, here you stand before my very eyes.”

“If Sephiran and I hadn’t been freed…” Sanaki walked forward until she was standing side-by-side with Micaiah. “You were just waiting for your chance to kill us, weren’t you? Just as you killed my grandmother!”

“Out of respect for the imminently deceased,” Lekain teased, “I’ll be completely honest. Yes, you assume correctly. Your assassination, and the plot to once again frame the Serenes herons for it, was entirely my idea.”

“Yes…” Sanaki shook her head as if disappointed. “I thought as much.”

“Impressive, Sanaki,” Lekain replied mockingly, “When you were first crowned, you would have cried your little eyes out. You’ve grown…slightly.”

Now it was Sanaki’s turn to summon her rage and point an accusing finger at the Vice Minister. “Lekain, Duke of Gaddos! Before the thirty-seventh Empress of Begnion…prepare to be judged!”

“An amusing game, child, truly. But you must know that there is nothing you can do against me! I am the greatest servant of the all-knowing, almighty Ashera. I am her chosen champion! And you, Sanaki, are a pathetic wretch, mewling behind her pack of Daein curs.” Micaiah hissed and Sothe growled as if to both confirm and deny his insult. “Ashera’s judgement is upon you! You will not live to be turned to stone… You will die here as flesh and blood!”

With that, Lekain tapped his Rewarp staff against the ground and teleported himself to the left corner at the far end of the hall. A moment later, his archers started firing. But Sanaki was prepared for them, already weaving a wall of wind to block the incoming volley. Micaiah and Sothe stayed at her side while a regiment of heavily armored shield knights advanced.

“I guess he’s done talking,” Ike announced, “So let’s do this! CHARGE!”

At his command, Soren and the others moved forward in a wedge formation, meeting up with Sanaki, Micaiah, and Sothe and then continuing to surge into the Disciples’ advancing shield wall.

Once they broke through, they immediately spread out. Elincia led Skrimir, Boyd, Rolf, and Mia to the right, taking out the nearest soldiers and charging up the steps to the rightward offshoot. Meanwhile, Tibarn led Ranulf, Reyson, Rhys, Gatrie, and Shinon toward the left offshoot. Ike and Micaiah remained in the central section of the hall, with Mist and Oscar (their only cavalry), Ena and Kurnthaga (who moved to the front, where they could do the most damage), and Sanaki and Soren (who used long-distance spells to disrupt the Disciples’ archer regiments). Of course, Sothe was here too. He wielded a knife in either hand and was moving constantly to keep Micaiah from becoming surrounded.

Meanwhile, she was casting an impressive assortment of light spells. Although Yune was no longer controlling her, Micaiah was obviously a powerful sage in her own right. She incanted quickly and clearly, and each spell was chosen and manipulated to maximum effect. She monitored distant enemies and laid waste to them with Purge, blocked, herded, and aligned her nearest enemies with barriers of Shine, poisoned and confounded others with Valaura, and scorched the rest with bursts of Thani. Her absolute control was almost hypnotizing to watch, but Soren couldn’t afford to ignore his own opponents, so he tore his eyes away.

Casting both Tornado and Thoron as his shields, Soren fell back momentarily until he was confident both spells were strong enough to protect him. The winds would block, and the lightning would counter. The latent charge in the air made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end, but at least the spell was active and working.

Running toward the frontlines, Soren cast Bolganone in a long arc to cut off his enemies’ escape and then cast Rexcalibur at their center. Forced between the edge of the platform and the lava, there was little room to flee the encapsulating winds except for falling back or surging forward—which some did. But most were caught in the middle and subjected to the spiraling blade-like gusts.

However, Rexcalibur seemed to be weaker than before, and several Disciples picked themselves back up with only minor injuries. Considering how drained Soren was already feeling, he couldn’t believe how strong the enchantment on their armor must be. But he couldn’t dwell on this fact, because the soldiers who’d pressed forward to avoid the spell were now slicing and stabbing at him. He barely avoided getting skewered, because these soldiers’ weapons were enchanted as well. They were burning right through his Tornado and Thoron spells, breaking them completely after only a few hits.

Soren found himself falling back again, firing Elwind spells to try to remove some of the nearest Disciples’ armor. But even this was more difficult than before. Everything about these opponents was tougher, and Soren started to wonder if he should have stayed behind. Ike’s idealism and devotion to his friends had motivated him choose them for this mission. At the time, everyone had agreed, thinking he knew best. But in truth, the Greil Mercenaries were nothing special. Soren was nothing special. Why did I think he had a right to come? he wondered.

A moment later, an arrow sprouted from the neck of the Disciple halberdier in front of him, and gurgling slightly, the body fell. Soren glanced to the right and saw Shinon perched on the edge of a nearby platform. “Good shot, right?” he asked smugly, knocking another arrow.

There was a Disciple thunder mage creeping up behind him, and Soren wondered if Shinon knew this and was pretending not to notice. But deciding he’d be better safe than sorry, Soren sent a small, targeted Wind spell straight at the mage’s neck. It was one of his weakest spells, but it was the fastest to incant.

Now it was the mage who gurgled and slumped. Shinon glanced over his shoulder and looked honestly surprised. “Not bad,” he deemed reluctantly. “But what about this?” Raising his next arrow, he launched it in a high arc, and it came down just inside the chest plate of a Disciple swordsman. The swordsman didn’t die immediately, but he stumbled backward, spitting up blood and clawing at his chest. The arrow’s fletching brushed his nose.

Soren didn’t think now was the time for games, but Shinon’s easy confidence was comforting. Casting a Blizzard spell, Soren concentrated it on a single Disciple bowman. Willing the gusts into freezing shafts, he struck down, aiming for the narrow gap between the man’s gorget and his neck. His spell succeeded, and the bowman hit the ground, flailing and coughing blood.

Shinon laughed wickedly and sent his next arrow through the eye-hole of a Disciple’s helmet. Soren matched him by firing an Elwind spell into her other eye and obliterating her brain. For another minute or two, Soren and Shinon played, until Tibarn called for Shinon to move forward again. Soren realized he’d fallen behind too and ran toward Ike. Calming his mind, he reminded himself to take this battle one step at a time.

When he neared Ena, Soren cast two Bolganone spells to cut off her victims’ escape routes, and she roasted them alive when they tried to change direction.

When he found himself near Micaiah and Sothe again, he watched where she was casting Shine spells to predict where her next big attack would be. Then he aided her by casting Tornado in the rear, eliminating the escape route for her otherwise trapped opponents.

When Micaiah moved onto her next round of enchantments, Soren switched to Elthunder and Thoron spells. He stunned Disciples, thereby exposing their vulnerable points to Sothe, who tore into like some sort of demon. In addition to the daggers in his hands, it seemed his pockets and belt were full of throwing knifes, and he even had sliding blades in the toe of his boot and strapped to his forearms. He never stopped moving: twisting, turning, punching, kicking, and slashing repeatedly until he was as covered in his victims’ blood as they were.

Moving away from the two Daein freedom fighters, Soren finally reunited with Ike and fought between him and Sanaki. As always, Ike was a sight to behold, proving his incredible strength and versatility with every strike. He treated each opponent as if they were worthy of his full attention and might, and they roared angrily when they attacked him, demanding to know how he dared show such audacity while defying their precious goddess. “Isn’t it better to be alive?” Ike would laugh or growl in answer, depending on his mood (which, in turn, depending on if he was recently injured or not). But no matter how he felt, Ike gave a reply before he impaled, decapitated, or eviscerated them.

Soren cast plenty of Elfire and Bolganone spells now that he was here, because the air was dry and bursting with active fire spirits thanks to Sanaki. The empress was once again proving herself a powerful sage. Her incanting sounded stiff (which was to be expected since she must have learned from tutors rather than actual battle), and she was poor at moving her feet and predicting where enemy attacks would come from. But she more than made up for these failings with the sea of fire she conjured with Rexflame. She rarely allowed a soldier to get close before encasing them in a blazing whirlpool.

“This way! Force them back!” Sanaki called over the inferno. Combining their efforts, she and Soren kept up a string of explosions, forcing the Disciples toward the edge of the platform. Soren liked her strategy: knocking them over the side certainly seemed like a reliable way to kill them, since their enchanted armor would do nothing to save them from a fall into the abyss. However, only a few actually fell before the others found an opening in the barrage and scurried to relative safety.

Pursuing the escapees, Soren switch to Blizzard for those farthest away and Tornado for those closest. It was now, when he looked at his distant targets, that he realized they were actually making considerable progress down the long platform. Glancing left and right, Soren saw that Elincia’s and Tibarn’s groups were keeping up at the same pace. He also noticed that she and he were flying back and forth from the central battle to the offshoots, since their aerial abilities gave than that unique advantage.

Although Kurthnaga could also fly, he was fighting from the ground now, whipping his tail into the legions of Disciples and blasting them with his breath. Ena also had wings, but Soren had never seen her use them before. Instead she stomped, lashed out, bit, tossed, and roasted the Disciples with her breath while moving across the battlefield on either two or four feet like some sort of giant, romping bear. That being said, both dragons’ techniques were highly effective.

They continued to fight at the front despite the archers shooting at their sensitive eyes and noses and the spearmen attempting to harpoon their legs and immobilize them. When the spears became lodged in place, Mist and Oscar charged in to cut the ropes so the dragons couldn’t be tripped. Roaring in pain and stumbling only slightly, Ena and Kurthnaga continued to fight. Soren ran closer to the pair, casting additional Bolganone spells as temporary barriers. No matter how his energy waned, he wouldn’t stop fighting either.