Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 90: SILENCE ( Chapter 24 )

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

Finally they were nearing the end of the platform, and Vice Minister Lekain came into clear view. Opposite him, in the right corner, was Duke Hetzel. While Lekain wielded a light tome and Rewarp staff, Hetzel was carrying a different staff in each hand. One was an ornately wrought, white-gold rod with a winged head. Although Soren had only ever seen drawings, he suspected this must be a Silence staff. If so, it could prove troublesome—for Soren especially. In Hetzel’s other hand was a wooden staff with some sort of multi-colored glass ball in the head. This, Soren was fairly certain, was a Sleep staff. It could be a serious problem for everyone.

They would come within range of the two senators soon, so Soren tried to spread his observations quickly: “They have staves!” he called to whoever could hear him, “Rewarp, Silence, and Sleep!”

“Good eye, Soren!” Ike called back, and then more loudly. “Heads up, everyone! Watch out for stave magic! Don’t let it catch you!”

As they edged closer to the senators’ legions of guards, Hetzel began using his staves. Triangles of blue light appeared under the feet of whoever he cast his Silence staff at, and the victim had only a couple seconds to get out of the way. Hetzel was also clever with his casting, and Soren noticed he was trying to predict the mercenaries’ movement and force them to step onto the triangles accidently. After barreling past Ena and almost stepping in one, Soren started proceeding more slowly and carefully. Hetzel was clearly targeting the mages in the group: Soren, Sanaki, Micaiah, and Rhys. A Silence staff was designed to take away the victim’s voice, and if they couldn’t use magic, they wouldn’t be able to attack or defend themselves.

Interspersed with the blue triangles, however, were occasional showers of pink and gold sparks, which were even more dangerous. These were the product of Hetzel’s Sleep staff, and if hit, the victim would be knocked out on the spot. Needless to say, the middle of a battlefield was a terrible place for a nap. Soren frantically moved his gaze up and down, watching out for any suspicious light—pink, blue, or otherwise.

In addition to the mages, Ena and Kurthnaga seemed to be Hetzel’s favorite targets (especially for the Sleep staff), probably because they were so big and relatively slow-moving. A minute later, Ena stumbled onto a Silence spell, and her roars were suddenly lost from the battle. Although she continued to fight, she couldn’t make a sound.

Soren decided he needed to end this before something worse happened. Flipping to his long-distance spells, he tried to hit Hetzel with Meteor. But he merely ducked while his guards raised their shields to stop the fireball. Next Soren tried Bolting, but Hetzel had surprisingly good reflexes and was able to duck and use his Silence staff as a ground, funneling the electricity safely into the floor. Finally Soren used Blizzard, but Hetzel’s armored guards pressed in around him with their shields facing outward, safely encasing him against the freezing blades.

Soren determined Bolganone or Rexcalibur would probably do the trick, but for that, he would have to get much closer. So he pressed forward again, fending off the Disciples while on watch for Sleep and Silence attacks. Fortunately, the Sleep attacks caused him to feel drowsy before they took full effect, and twice Soren narrowly avoided losing consciousness by realizing what was happening at the last second and throwing himself out of the way. He was not the only one suddenly darting and weaving to avoid the magical sabotage. The battlefield had descended into acrobatic chaos as soon as Hetzel had begun.

Meanwhile, on the left, Elincia’s group was closing in on Lekain’s guard from one side, while Micaiah and Sothe struck them from the other. But neither could get close enough to actually threaten the man, who was laughing confidently. Soren could only glance over for a second before having to look down and avoid stepping into another dreaded blue triangle. He and Ike were finally making some progress toward Hetzel, and Ranulf and Tibarn were approaching from the other side.

Lekain’s laughter suddenly grew louder, so Soren spared another glance.

“No!” shouted Elincia. She tried to swoop down on Lekain’s head, but one of the archers in his guard shot her pegasus, and the creature flapped in place, whinnying in pain. An instant later, Elincia dove straight down, into the abyss below the platform on which Lekain stood, and Soren wasn’t sure if she’d fallen on purpose or if her steed had died (and Elincia with it).

“Bathe in my radiance!” Lekain called out, raising something above his head that looked like a single sheet of parchment. This was followed by a brief incantation: “*Be awash with silence*.” A blue triangle, similar to that of a Silence staff, materialized around him. Then it shot out in all directions, becoming larger and larger, until it encapsulated half the battlefield (and certainly all of the mercenaries). It dissolved a moment later, but the damage was done.

Soren tried to speak, to say anything, but no words would emerge from his throat. His heart beat fast in panic. Stowing his tome, he withdrew his knife and immediately started falling back. Ike was right beside him, his mouth wide as he barked commands and questions no one could hear. But Soren could read his lips: he wanted to know what that light had been, what had happened, and why he couldn’t speak. Soren just shook his head and ducked to avoid an axe. He no longer had any protective spells surrounding him, and he couldn’t conjure more. He couldn’t do anything.

Giving up on speaking, Ike continued to hack and slash even more fervently. Soren retreated farther, using the knife defensively although it seemed so small and useless. The battlefield felt impossibly lonely and silent despite the fact that Lekain was still laughing and the Disciples were still grunting, shouting, and telling the mercenaries how destined for defeat they were. But no one could reply. No one could call to one another for support or warning. This made them timid, and soon it wasn’t just Soren who was stumbling backward.

Two arrows found his arm, and although he cried out in pain, no sound came from his mouth. Retreating cautiously was a waste of time, so Soren turned tail and ran until he thought he was out of the archers’ range. He was wrong, however, and two more arrows impaled his leg. He fell, catching himself with his good arm, twisting his wrist, and still managing to bump his chin and land hard on his shoulder. Dizziness rolled through his head, but he knew he had to keep moving.

Struggling to remain conscious through the pain, he dragged himself farther. His wrist didn’t seem broken, and now he was safe—and far from the battle. Forcing himself to sit up, he watched the others fight soundlessly. He couldn’t help from here. Then again, unable to chant any spells, he wouldn’t have been able to help in the melee either.

Sanaki came limping toward him, hugging a deep laceration across her upper arm and part of her chest. She said something and grimaced when no sound came out, but Soren could read her lips enough to understand: ‘You too?’

A moment later, Tibarn dropped Rhys off before flying back into the fray. Rhys seemed uninjured, but he also seemed distraught. Although he had his Mend staff in hand, Soren knew he couldn’t say the command word. But then he took a deep (soundless) breath, dropped his staff, approached Sanaki, and mimed what he wanted her to do, which was to show him her arm. She obeyed, and Rhys inspected the wound.

Despite the severity of his own injuries, Soren knew the empress took priority, so he adjusted the way he was sitting to help ease the pain in his leg. But this only caused another wave of agony. He could feel blood pooling in the wound, even if the arrow shafts were keeping it inside. The surrounding flesh was stiff and hot, mottling gray and red. It was a bad hit. His vision was already fading.

He opened his mouth to get Rhys’s attention, but it was useless. He still couldn’t speak. Frustration pressed against the back of his eyes, and for a moment, he felt like a child. But then, remembering that he still had an elixir and a couple vulneraries in his robes, he came back to himself. He tried to retrieve them with his usable (albeit still painful) hand. But without the arm to balance him, he grew dizzy and felt himself falling. He hit the floor and heard the glass vial roll away. The fact that the stone tiles felt soft on the back of his head was probably a bad sign. The indigo abyss above the battlefield became the abyss of his mind, and not even the white pegasus that suddenly shot across it could rouse him. He lost all consciousness.

 

When Soren awoke, he felt disoriented, as if his head was stuffed with cotton. But scratchy voices managed to work their way through his ears and connect to his brain, and slowly these voices grew clearer—and more familiar. Recalling what had happened, he was anxious to discover how his comrades could be speaking again.

Above all else he wanted to hear Ike’s voice and feel his presence, but when he searched for it, he was overwhelmed and nearly lost consciousness again. Starting smaller, he tried to focus on his immediate vicinity instead.

Raising his head, he slowly propped himself up. His right arm felt numb and his left wrist was still sore. His left leg felt heavy and numb too, but all the arrows were gone and the wounds were sealed.

He was still sitting in the same place but was surrounded by more blood than before. Some of it was undoubtedly his own, but some belonged to others. A pool had dripped off Sanaki, who appeared full healed now, kneeling over Ena, who was oozing a large quantity herself. Rhys was also kneeling over her.

“Please stay still, Lady Ena,” came Sanaki’s voice.

“I’ll be…fine,” came Ena’s reply.

“*Mend*,” came Rhys’s command. This was followed by a green glow, which Soren’s confused mind blinked against.

Squinting, he saw Kurthnaga also lying on the ground nearby. Although not bleeding as severely as Ena, he was unconscious.

Sothe and Micaiah were here too, both sitting and being healed by Elincia. But as soon as Micaiah was able to stand, she lurched away from Queen Crimea. “Allow me,” she said to Rhys, collapsing to her knees beside Ena.

Rhys’s green light was replaced by a strange silver light Soren had never seen before. He wondered, dimly, if this was one of the ‘healing miracles’ the Maiden of Dawn was known for. Unable to look for long because the light caused black spots to appear in his vision, he turned his attention back to Sothe and Elincia. The thief clearly wanted to go after Micaiah, but Elincia held him fast while she repaired a gash and massive bruise spread across his neck and shoulder. It did look like a serious wound, and Soren supposed he was lucky his neck hadn’t been broken.

It was then that Soren remembered Elincia had fallen just before Lekain had unleashed his attack. A moment later, he spotted the staff lying on the ground beside her feet: a Restore staff. It was a squat gold rod with a large opal embedded in the head, and it was supposed to undo any poison, drug, or curse. Soren now understood what must have happened while he’d been unconscious.

When he sat up straighter his head swam, but he tried to ask: ‘Elincia, how many have been restored?’ However, he didn’t make it far into the sentence before realizing no words were coming out. No one could hear him. No one looked at him. No one had even noticed he’d woken up. His throat closed, and the sudden jump in his heartrate made him dizzy. He was alive, but he was starting to panic again. Someone had healed him, but Elincia hadn’t restored his speech. He was still useless.

While he tried to regain control of himself, Micaiah finished healing Ena and slumped to the side, where Sothe caught her, having broken away from Elincia. Sighing, the queen turned her attention to her pegasus, which was lying down and panting hard beside her. An arrow was still protruding from its chest. “I know, I haven’t forgotten you,” she cooed. (Soren, for one, felt quite forgotten.)

Since Micaiah had taken over Ena’s healing, Rhys had moved over to Kurthnaga, closing up his minor wounds. Now he picked up Elincia’s fallen Restore staff and used that on the Dragon Prince as well, thereby waking him.

Kurthnaga yawned and rubbed his head. “What happened?”

“You were hit by Hetzel’s sleep staff,” Rhys explained. “Ena saved you.” He gestured to where the dragon woman was propping herself up, looking woozy.

“Ena!” Kurthnaga cried, awaking fully.

“Don’t worry,” Micaiah explained. “She and the baby are fine.”

Ena nodded. “I’ll just…rest a while. You should return…to the battle.”

Kurthnaga got to his feet and curled his fists, turning back toward the fight. Soren tried to stand too but was still shaky and gave up, kneeling instead. Still no one looked at him. Kurthnaga ran forward—transforming midstride—and was once again a ferocious dragon by the time he reached the others.

Focusing his vision on the distant fighting, Soren finally located Ike. He was alive and tearing into Hetzel’s guards with the help of Tibarn overhead. Although Reyson couldn’t sing galdr any more than the mages could use spells, he must have insisted on staying at Tibarn’s side because he was there too. In his heron form, his long beak and webbed feet were ill-suited for battle, but he was clearly doing his utmost to peck out the Disciples’ eyes and scratch them with the spurs attached to this skinny bird ankles. Soren was envious.

However, these three and the mercenaries fighting behind them were all still silent, which meant Elincia must have come to the aid of the injured, impotent mages first. Soren could not have been unconscious very long.

Just then, Sanaki stomped up to Elincia, who’d finally coaxed her steed back onto its hooves. “Help me get to Lekain!” she demanded.

“One minute,” Elincia replied, holding up her palm. Stepping past the empress, she accepted the Restore rod Rhys was holding out. “Did I miss anyone?” she asked, moving her eyes over everyone. Rhys moved back to Ena’s side, and Sothe and Micaiah both got to their feet. Soren managed to stand this time too, and he raised his hand. He was immensely relieved when Elincia’s eyes locked onto him, although he told himself he hadn’t been invisible, only mute.

“Oh, Soren, I’m sorry.” She crossed the distance between them and waved the wand, passing the pale blue light over him. “Better? How are your wounds?”

For a split second, Soren feared he wouldn’t be able to speak even after the curse was undone, but then the words came out: “I-I’m fai- fine.”

However, his voice sounded wrong even to his own ears. It was like Leanne’s voice—accented with the ancient language. But that wasn’t quite right. It was undeniably his voice: his first voice, his voice as a child. It was deeper now, but the stuttering, the lack of confidence, the lack of proper cadence—it was heartbreakingly familiar. Panic rose in him again. Memories flashed before his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out Elincia’s concerned frown.

He tried again: “We have was-ed too mus- muj- much time.” He felt himself blushing. “Le’s move.”

Elincia glanced at Rhys in concern, and he got to his feet. “Uh, he did hit his head,” he offered. “Soren, you should sit back down.”

He shook his head even though it made him dizzy. He knew that wasn’t the reason. The Silence curse, Ashera’s power, his own fear—he didn’t have to know the exact explanation. But he knew his inability to speak was entirely his own problem.

“Queen Elincia, we must confront Lekain!” Sanaki prompted her again.

Elincia tore her eyes away from Soren and nodded. “Let’s go.”

“We’re coming too!” Micaiah jumped in, with Sothe at her side.

Elincia nodded and handed the staff back to Rhys. “Restore the others.”

He accepted it reluctantly. “I’d rather stay with Ena.”

“No, you should…go. Help Prince Kurth and…the others,” she said from the ground, but everyone ignored her.

“I’ll ta-e ih- to Mis-,” Soren said, although he hated his broken speech. He seized the staff from Rhys’s hands and started walking toward the battle as quickly as his lightheadedness would allow. He didn’t want to be useless anymore.

No one stopped him. Elincia mounted her pegasus and trotted back toward Lekain’s half of the battlefield with Sanaki, Sothe, and Micaiah running alongside. Rhys stayed with Ena, and Soren didn’t turn around.

He knew he would be able to speak the ancient language just fine, so the threw himself into his spells, chanting swiftly and fluidly. The sound of his voice and the familiar words did calm him slightly. He locked his gaze on Ike and Mist ahead, but in his mind, they flashed into the shapes of children. Ragnell was a tree branch, and the bodies of Ike’s opponents were mere ferns. Mist’s sword was a piece of straw, and she swung it idly from the back of her horse. The blood pouring around her was nothing but a cascade of flowers. Ike’s clothes were wet not with blood, but because he’d just fallen in a brook.

Soren shook his head more sharply. He needed to stay awake and attentive. He was within range of Disciple archers now. He quickened his pace. A Tornado raged around him, and he blasted distant foes with Blizzard. When he got close enough, he switched to Elwind. Finally he reached his comrades. “Mis- ta-e this,” he called, and she jerked her chin over her shoulder in surprise. Then she wheeled her horse around to meet him.

Oscar and Boyd leapt to defend them, and Mist stared at Soren in alarm, mouthing the words: ‘But I can’t use it!’

Soren felt like an idiot, realizing the fog in his mind hadn’t cleared much at all. He wondered why Elincia, Rhys, and the others had let him march off with the staff and then realized they must have expected him to use it.

Mist was still waiting for him to say something, to do something. Ike had fallen back, away from Hetzel. The mercenaries were regrouping around Mist, Soren, and the precious Restore staff. They were losing the progress they’d made.

“*Restore,*” Soren said, because it was worth a shot. He had never used stave magic before, but he supposed he should technically have some aptitude for it as a magic user. He felt the power being sucked out of him in a burst—as if someone had just hit him from behind with a blunt object, knocking the air from his lungs—even before the pale blue glow sputtered to life.

Mist grinned excitedly. “Soren, you’re a genius!”

He didn’t feel like a genius, but he cut off the flow of power and shoved the rod into Mist’s awaiting hands. He refused to say anything else in the common tongue, so he switched back to the ancient language, intent on using his remaining power to do as much damage as possible.

Mist took control of the situation from here, shouting out the names of her nearest comrades and having them present themselves for restoration one a time.

“Phew!” Ike breathed in relief when it was his turn. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be not to talk!”

“Agreed,” Oscar called in equal relief.

Morale surged among the mercenaries, and they raced back to confront Hetzel’s guards. Soren was chanting Bolganone and Thoron spells, and when he finally set eyes on the old senator again, he saw the man was cowering in fear and clutching both staves to his chest. He’d stopped using them and perhaps knew he was moments from death. With another Bolganone spell, Soren split the tiles and made a channel straight to the senator. When the molten stone cooled a moment later, Ike ran across it, his sword raised to strike Hetzel down.

“Wait, please!” he squealed. “I never wanted to fight… I’m here only because I was ordered!”

“Then surrender your weapons,” Ike replied, keeping his sword raised.

Soren scrambled to help defeat the remaining guards. Tibarn, Ranulf, and the others were here now, and the Hawk King was ferociously clawing the Disciples to shreds.

“I-I cannot do that,” Hetzel finally answered. “I would fall into disgrace with the Goddess.”

Ike only hesitated a moment longer, and Soren wondered if he was thinking about Rafiel. But he made his decision—and stabbed Hetzel through the chest.

“Save…me,” he choked before dying. “My Goddess… Help…”

When the rest of Hetzel’s guards were dead, Ike pointed his sword at Lekain and the remaining forces. “Let’s go help!” he ordered, and everyone ran toward where Elincia, Sanaki, Skrimir, and Micaiah were unleashing an impressive two-sided assault on Lekain’s close-knit guards. They had nearly reached him when he suddenly raised his Rewarp staff, teleporting himself to the other end of the hall.

“Coward!” Sanaki snarled.

“Fan out!” Ike ordered, even while he grappled with a Disciple shield knight, “He can’t escape all of us!”

“Empress Sanaki, up here!” Elincia called, reaching down to lend the young woman her hand. She pulled her onto the saddle, and they set off in pursuit of Lekain. Tibarn, meanwhile, was going around the opposite side, and Micaiah and Sothe were racing down the middle.

Despite the fact that his remaining guards were being killed and he was now on the run, Lekain was still laughing as if this were all a splendid game. He was using his Rewarp staff in earnest now, moving soldiers from in front of the mercenaries to behind them and even trying to move the mercenaries themselves. “Watch the ground!” Ike ordered, but it wasn’t in time to prevent Sothe from accidentally stepping in one of the purple rings. In an instant, he was transported high in the air, and Micaiah stopped in her tracks, screaming his name. Fortunately, Tibarn merely adjusted course and caught him before he could fall into the abyss.

Meanwhile, Soren had surrounded himself in a Tornado spell and was fighting off Disciples no matter if they attacked him from the front or back. Lekain was obviously enjoying himself, transporting his soldiers one, two, or three at a time from one location to the next, even if he only moved them a couple yards. Despite his fun, this was a poor plan. The Disciples never knew where they were being moved to, so they were taken off guard just as much as the mercenaries. However, the mercenaries were more adaptable, and soon all of the soldiers were dead.

Turning his attention to the other end of the hall, Soren saw Sanaki leap from Elincia’s saddle, catch herself in a roll, and pop back onto her feet. She must have been chanting before the jump, because as soon as she was standing, she released a Cymbeline spell. “Burn, you traitor!” she screamed.

Lekain, however, was agile for his age and managed to avoid each of the fiery tendrils. “Watch your tongue, girl!” he scolded her and chanted: “*Irradiate, spirits of Light, and annihilate. Ravage all you encompass*!” Soren recognized the words as belonging to Rexaura—the most powerful of light spells.

Sanaki had started chanting at the same time and countered with Rexflame. They were evenly matched, trading such enormous waves of white light and crimson flame that it was difficult to watch. The air rippled with heat, and Micaiah and Sothe both pulled to a stop, unable to get any closer. Elincia and Tibarn flapped above the duel, also unable to intervene.

Skrimir, Ike, and the rest were jogging down the length of the battlefield, and Soren was among them. But there was no urgency in their gait. Soren knew the fight would be over by the time they arrived, and it was.

Sanaki’s gown and cape were singed with holes and the skin on her face, neck, arm, and chest was mottled with painful-looking blisters. But she was alive, and the same could not be said for Lekain. The Vice Minister’s head was hardly more than a burnt skull with shreds of black skin and a few strands of charred hair still attached. 

Evidently stunned, Sanaki fell to her knees. Elincia landed her pegasus and grabbed the uninjured portion of the empress’s face. “How’s your eye? Can you see?” she asked, waving her hand. Without waiting for an answer, she withdrew her Heal staff.

Meanwhile, Micaiah and Sothe were rummaging among the dead senator’s robes, doubtless looking for the scroll he’d shown off at the beginning of the battle. Sothe was the one who found it. “Micaiah, this is it! It’s… It’s the actual blood pact!”

“At long last…” Micaiah sat back, and her shoulders sagged. “We finally found it. All the misery Daein has suffered over this wretched parchment…”

“I know…” Sothe agreed sadly. After unfurling and reading the paper, he held it out to her. “But with this we can finally free Daein from the curse. C’mon Micaiah… You know what to do.”

“Of course…” Taking it in hand, Micaiah tore the paper down the middle. “…Whew…” Then, for good measure, she whispered a small light spell and the parchment disintegrated. “That’s it.”

“What a relief.” Now it as Sothe who sat back on his butt and seemed to deflate. “No one has to die now.”

“Hey, are you going to explain who was going to die over that little thing?” Ike asked, injecting himself into their conversation. Everyone had gathered around, staring.

“It was a blood pact,” Micaiah answered with a shake of her head. “Lekain used Izuka to trick Pelleas into signing it. If we didn’t obey the Senate, we would have lost one innocent citizen on the first day, two on the second, three on the third, and so on until our entire nation was wiped out as if by a plague…”

“That’s terrible,” Ike said with a shake of his head. “I had no idea.”

“That is why we had to fight you,” Micaiah explained solemnly. “We never wanted to fight, but we didn’t have a choice until we could get close enough to Lekain…”

“I understand,” Ike replied simply. “You had to do what was best for your people.”

Just then, Sothe seemed distracted by Lekain’s robes again, and he rummaged in the corpse’s pockets until he pulled out a second tightly-bound scroll. Opening it, he ran his eyes over the contents. “Micaiah, there’s another pact here,” he explained urgently. “Lekain was carrying two of them. What’s going on?”

Sanaki stepped forward and snatched it out of his hands. She was only half-healed, but she looked better. “I’ll hang onto this,” she said.

“Empress Sanaki?” Micaiah asked, aghast.

“It’s not mine!” she returned defensively. “I promised to return this to its proper owner: Raven King Naesala.” With that, she tucked it into the belt of her torn gown. “Because of this, he was forced to serve the Senate and turn against his allies…” This she addressed to Tibarn, glancing up at him uncertainly.

“So Kilvas, too?” Micaiah shook her head.

“I suppose that explains things…” Tibarn grunted, and Soren wondered if this would be enough for him to forgive Naesala his treachery. But Tibarn was also wrong—this didn’t explain everything. Naesala had supported Daein in the Mad King’s War, when the Begnion senate had had nothing to gain. He wondered if another senator, someone who wanted chaos to wake Yune and Ashera, may have possessed the Raven King’s contract at that time: Prime Minister Sephiran. But he didn’t voice his suspicions now. He was tired, and he still wasn’t sure he was thinking clearly.

Finding himself swaying on his feet, he tried to adjust his stance so he was standing straighter. Only then did he realize that Ike was standing beside him with a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even felt him put it there when they’d arrived at the scene of Lekain’s demise, and he only felt it now because Ike had moved and tightened his grip to steady him.

“What horrible tactics,” Reyson hissed.

“At least it’s over now,” Ike decreed optimistically. He wasn’t looking at Soren, but his hand was still there. “The pacts can be destroyed, and there’s no more senate to blackmail anyone.”

“Yes. Lekain’s treachery ran deep,” Sanaki agreed, “but at least it’s finally over. I’m happy for everyone.”

“As am I,” Micaiah added, finally getting to her feet.

Sothe stood too, but he wasn’t smiling like her. “Sorry to have to remind you all,” he said, “but if we don’t save everyone who’s been petrified, then this is all pretty pointless.”

“Well spoken,” Sanaki sighed. “We can’t stop until everyone is free! The Goddess awaits.” She turned her gaze to the grand doors at the opposite end of the hall.

“No, let’s rest up here,” Ike said, raising his hands as if to hold everyone back (which meant finally releasing Soren). “I don’t know what else we’ll find in this tower, but I have a feeling we’re not done fighting yet. That Lekain guy might have thought he was Ashera’s champion, but I bet she has more waiting for us up ahead.”

  

They remained in the hall an hour or so, and Soren was relieved to find it was easier to track the passage of time now than before the battle. He sat and tried to disentangle his memories from his current surroundings. He gave into the needs of his bone-weary body and forced himself to relax.

Meanwhile, the mercenaries retrieved their supplies, finished healing one another, took naps if they could, ate and drank their rations, and picked over the Disciples’ bodies for unbroken arrows, staves, and other spoils. Soren didn’t know what time it was in the outside world, and no one suggested they make camp for the night (if it was, indeed, night). Soren didn’t suggest it either. As tired as he was, he didn’t feel like he could sleep. Instead he slowly nibbled the fruit and nuts Ilyana had given him and watched the others.

He hadn’t said anything since the battle; he still didn’t trust his voice. Usually he reported to Ike’s side and would help with post-battle triage and planning, but he had immediately left Ike’s side after he called for the team to rest. Now he sat far from the others.

Ike must have noticed his absence, and once his duties were resolved, he approached. “Rhys said you have a concussion?”

Soren shook his head.

Ike’s brow pinched. “Are you sure?”

He said nothing.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Soren still said nothing.

Ike crouched in front of him. “Wait, did you bite off your tongue? Let me see.” Before Soren realized what was happening, Ike’s dirty thumb slipped into his mouth, drawing down his jaw, which was easily done because Soren’s entire face slackened in surprise.

However, Soren then sputtered and pushed his hand and arm away. “It’s nothing like that!”

Ike looked relieved, and Soren was too because he had just pronounced every word in that exclamation correctly.

“That’s good,” Ike sighed. “You had me worried.”

Soren took some deep breaths. “I…I can speak.”

Ike stared at him quizzically. “Of course you can. Everyone had the curse removed.”

“Maybe I did…hit my head…harder than I thought.” He spoke slowly, grateful for every word that connected to the next without incident, grateful for the familiar rhythm that carried his voice from beginning to end.

Ike nodded and settled himself down. “I’ll sit here with you. Just take it easy. We won’t move out again until you’re ready.”

Although he could speak now, Soren said nothing, because he didn’t want to push him away or betray how desperately he wanted him to stay.

“…I’m sorry,” Ike said quietly after a while.

“Why?” Soren asked in surprise.

“I was covering your retreat. I saw you get hit.” Ike shook his head. “But I couldn’t go to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You had to hold the ground.”

“Right…” Ike frowned and stared ahead.

Soren said nothing more.  

 

After a while, Yune took control of Micaiah’s body again, and this was obvious because she jumped up and declared happily for all to hear: “You creatures are made of some tough meat!” Laughing, she spun around. “Why would you ever think you needed apostles or goddesses?”

“Yune,” Ike greeted her, yawning and standing up. He seemed a little brighter after resting. “It almost sounds like you’re happy to see that people don’t need you.”

“The one constant truth of people, Ike,” Yune replied, raising a finger and approaching him, “is that nobody can stop them from changing. People sometimes do things that even the highest divinities couldn’t imagine. That makes me sad…” She frowned. “But that also makes me very happy!” Her frown instantly turned into a smile. “That’s why I love people so much!”

“There are some changes that even a goddess can’t predict or control,” Ike agreed, then wondering aloud: “Maybe Ashera resented that.”

“I don’t know…” Yune shook her head. “But I do know that Ashera loved people. I’m sure of it…” Shaking her head again, she began striding jauntily down the platform. “Come on! You can heal on the way. We still have a long way to go!”

Groaning and sighing, everyone picked themselves up and started moving. Ike returned to Soren and offered his hand. “You okay to move out?”

Soren allowed Ike to help him up. He knew he hadn’t been as badly injured as some of the others. Ike was wrong to fixate on his health just because Rhys had misattributed his aphasia to a head wound. But neither did he correct Ike and explain the situation. If he was honest, he appreciated the attention. “I am fine now. Let’s go.”

The mercenaries and royals fell in step behind Yune. When she reached the door at the end of the platform, she laid her hand on it and pushed, revealing even more stairs. “Up we go!” she said cheerfully, skipping up the first few steps.