Fire Emblem: Enemies of the Past, a new story in the tradtition of FE

[Auhin]

Chapter Twenty-One: A Child’s Game, A Warrior’s Battle

Sunset neared as the panting, wounded Wyvern Lord flew in between a grove of pine trees, emerging onto the scene of battle. He looked around frantically for a superior.

Arachnei troops were already hard at work firing volleys of arrows and spells up at the battlements of Quagmira Castle. A handful of brown-clad Knights marched across the bridge but were intercepted by green-robed Druids and Shamans.

Spotting Admiral Hermes making his rounds riding along the archer formation, the Wyvern Lord flew over to him. “Admiral! Admiral!”

The elf knocked and fired two arrows at once, and as he reached for two more from his quiver, he fired an answer: “Yes?”

“Th-that Prince! He and his goons killed every last one of the men you sent to secure Lifetongue’s safe passage. They’re headed this way, I’m sure of it!”

Hermes fired two more arrows. ”That is a problem,” spat Hermes, “which I will worry about later.” He chanced a glance at the Wyvern Lord in between arrows. “Where in blazes is your weapon?”

A loud roar of crackling flames drowned out the response. A giant Meteor spell was being summoned by the Sage Clan up on the battlements! Immediately the Arachnei Mages and Sages began conjuring up one collective counter spell of their own. The two large boulders, one alight in flames, one freezing cold, floated in the air above their casters briefly, one on the battlements, one at the entrance.
The boulders moved suddenly.

The Meteor and the Blizzard hit straight on, and a loud crescendo of reverberations shook the entire foundations of the Castle and its vicinity. A few seconds of silence, then everyone recovered just in time to see and hear the loud splashes of rock chunks falling into the moat.

--

The Prince of DeHelb and his company were traveling well and covering a lot of ground that same afternoon.

Benjamin lingered ahead of everyone else, picking from this bush and climbing that tree, as children of his age often do. Yugasa had to fetch the hooded boy every time, even if it meant getting tangled in thorns or scraping her knee to do so. While she may have put on an annoyed exterior, Ryu and Stephen could both tell she enjoyed Benjamin’s company very much.

The ground softened again and they came to a bog area once more, where the canopy of trees grew thicker and more sunlight was blocked out. Stephen and Evinrude both held on to Gladys with one hand each to help steady them. Timothy and Muriel again rode on the trusty horse. Ryu flew overhead as always, a natural scout for the group.

Ryu could barely hold her confidence down as she wielded her new Spear, flying ahead of everyone to scout out the land.

Evinrude sighed, looking upwards as he walked. “Oh how I long for the days when I had that much energy,” he lamented.

Muriel laughed and added, “Ryu reminds me of her father so much.”

“Yes,” reminisced Timothy, forcing back a tear, “Lord Falcrow was just as brave and stubborn. A lover of Wyverns as well.”

Yugasa chased an eager Benjamin down the path to a flower bush just ahead. He stopped and crouched in front of it, picking off one of the flowers. It was a cattail. Rubbing the brown part of the plant across his chin, he giggled and felt his chin with his other hand.

“What’s so funny, Benjamin?” asked Yugasa, smiling as she dusted off the hem of his robe with her hand.

“Tell me, tell me, oh little bulrush, by your pollen if I have a crush,” recited Benjamin in a singsong voice. “If the pollen sticks to your chin, then you have a crush! My chin is dry, so I don’t,” he explained in all seriousness. Suddenly his eyes widened with excitement. “You try!”

Yugasa rolled her eyes, pushing back her spectacles. “It’s just a child’s game. Pollen on your chin doesn’t mean--” Seeing his big, adorable eyes, she rolled her eyes again and reached down to pluck off a cattail.

“If it makes you stop nagging, then I’ll be more than happy to,” muttered Yugasa jokingly, rubbing the plant across her chin. Benjamin giggled again. Yugasa touched her chin. Several small yellow bits of pollen had stuck to her chin. Yugasa wiped them off, took Benjamin by the hand, and continued walking down the path.

Several repetitions of the phrase “Yugasa has a crush” were sung quietly to where only a blushing Yugasa and a grinning Benjamin could understand what he was saying.

She dropped the cattail to the swampy ground and stole a quick look back at Stephen, who was out of earshot. Benjamin was too busy singing to notice.

Nothing but the sound of hoof beats and steps through the swamp could be heard for another couple of minutes. Just then, the sound of Kioko screeching caught their attention. Ryu flew down from above into the middle of the group, clearly anxious about something.

“Quagmira Castle is up ahead, and the Rebellion is already there!” she reported urgently, “If we move quietly and in the foliage, we might be able to manage a surprise attack.”

Stephen’s reaction was instant, snapping into his commander phase again. “You heard her. Step lightly and fast. When we reach the battlefield’s edge, I’ll announce the attack plan.”

Everyone ran nimbly ahead, carefully avoiding sink holes in the mud and twigs to snap as best as they could.

After a dozen of tree groves and small bogs, the cries of battle and the sound of arrows whizzing through the air reached everyone’s ears. Stephen halted the party, motioning for Yugasa to follow him forward alone. The two reached the grove edge and peeked out between two tall blades of grass at the sight ahead of them.

Only a few yards away, an entire Arachnei regiment was busy firing projectiles across the lake at the Castle’s battlements, every one of the brown-clad soldiers with their backs facing the two companions.
They were behind enemy lines.

Stephen grasped his sword-hilt, scanning the situation. “Have Benjamin and Evinrude attack from afar, then fall back to the grove. Timothy, Ryu and I will come in after and give them time to prepare themselves for the next wave. Understood?” Yugasa nodded, and they both ran back to rejoin the rest of the group.

--

Tremors and shouts from outside put everyone inside the Castle through a frenzy.
Retainers and soldiers raced to and fro, healing the tired combatants and changing shifts to keep up with the tide of battle.

One of the yellow-armored Clairburgians approached a pacing Queen Brook. “Your Majesty, please allow us to aid you in battle, on King Topaz’ behalf. It is the very reason we have come.”

“Very well,” she answered, reluctant to disrupt her preplanned battle routine. “Send half up to the battlements to shield the spell casters and half to the bridge.”

He bowed and turned to his fellow men, nodding “yes.” The entirety of the Clairburg Royal Guard marched outside to battle, splitting into two groups as the Queen ordered.

--

Hermes shouted orders out the corner of his mouth, focusing on his aiming. When he didn’t hear a response from the man next to him, he looked again and gasped. The Archer’s body was being entangled by a tentacle of dark energy! Just as the body deteriorated, the man to the left of Hermes was struck to the ground by a whip of light energy.

The Elf barely blinked an eye before turning to see two figures running into the trees. Unsheathing Heimwood, he called out a warning to the other troops. “Men, attack from behi--”

Thwiiick.
A bloody Spear skewered another Arachnei Archer near Hermes, followed by a young Wyvern Rider girl who picked the weapon up and wiped it off on the grass. Rushing forward into the forest, the Admiral was met by a fellow mounted soldier: Timothy.

Like a reflex the two clashed weapons, Gladys and Hermes’ steed neighing at each other. Stephen emerged from the grove a little to the left of them, close enough to be spotted by Hermes.

“Well, well, well. That Prince is becoming a thorn in my side,” he remarked coolly, parrying a blow from Timothy’s poleax. Stephen caught a brown-clad Mage with two swipes, the foe just barely turning to meet him. Ryu zoned in on the familiar Wyvern Lord, who had reequipped himself with a brand new Spear.

Ryu and the Wyvern Lord swiped at each other’s mounts and helmets, hoping to win a battle of attrition. The Arachnei Wyvern Lord struck between Ryu’s armor plates, and she toppled to the ground instantly in a puddle of blood. Kioko shrieked, thrusting her large claws into the enemy wyvern’s left eye! The girl moaned in pain, gripping her stomach wound.

Recognizing her sister’s voice, Yugasa stumbled and tripped out of the glade onto the battlefield. She looked frantically around, seeing Timothy and what must be Hermes battling, Stephen finishing off some Mages, and…
“Ryu!”

She ran to the aid of her sibling, raising her staff. An orb of cerulean light engulfed Ryu and a mount-less Kioko. The Wyvern Lord chuckled as he tapped his dragon’s thigh. The monster snatched up Yugasa in its mighty claws with one swift motion! Further angered, Kioko again struck out with her claw, this time ending the Wyvern Lord’s life instantly! The scared mount dropped its prey and flew up wearily.

Inwardly frustrated that the Prince of DeHelb and his friends had once more foiled a crucial invasion of his, Hermes kicked his horse and parried another axe strike. “We will meet again, DeHelb scum,” he spat, looking at Timothy but meaning everyone.

The Elf was gone in a huff, a few minions escaping with him.

With the help of the Clairburg Royal Guard and the reinforcements of Stephen and company, the Arachnei troops on the bridge and at the lakefront were soon routed. What brown-clad bodies were still alive that evening were bounded and cast into the lake by Queen Brook’s Druids.
The time for a safe war was passed; the Arachnei Rebellion had now demanded total annihilation.

--

Inside the Castle, Stephen did not hesitate to bow before the Queen. “Your Majesty, it is I, Prince Stephen of DeHelb.” Timothy, Muriel, Yugasa, Ryu and Evinrude all bowed as well.

“I must sincerely thank you all for coming to my Castle’s aid,” she replied, bowing back. Queen Brook motioned to one of her Mages. “He will take you to your chambers. I‘m sure you are all very tired from the battle of today.”

Stephen almost fell over with relief. Queen Brook was the first person not to ask him of his father’s missing status.

[Auhin]

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Voice in the Corner

To Icarus, who was watching the battle excitedly, there wasn’t much that could be deciphered. A blur of wings, teeth, axe blades and spells were all that could be seen.

Ob was a whirlwind, spinning his dangerous axe around, even clipping an Icewyrm’s wing! The Mage Knights summoned more Boltings down from the heavens, most of them missing and hitting up flurries of snow on the ground instead.

In the heat of it all, no-one but Icarus noticed the smith’s wife and her nursemaid fly out of the battle, the nursemaid now missing a part of her right wing, and swerve overhead to one of the mountains above the battle scene.

The battle raged onward. Napthali and the smithy hacked with claws and breathed streams of ice at the unsuspecting Mage Knights, freezing the shrews in their tracks. The smithy’s two sons and his nephew followed up behind them, kicking each Warrior into the ground fiercely.

Admiral Ob suddenly jumped away from his Warrior servants. The Arachnei Warriors barely had any time to look up before a stream of hot burning coals tumbled onto them! The frozen bodies of the Mage Knights were even hit as well, breaking into segments.

Far above on one of the mountain ledges, the smithy’s wife and nursemaid wiped their brows, leaning against an empty and overturned cauldron.

Ob panted, for the first time a look of fear in his eyes, as he viewed every last one of his minions frozen or burned to death. He turned to face the Icewyrms, who had now transformed into their human avatars.

Ob paused for a moment. Then, like a cat, he tried to dash away, but the smithy and Napthali each grabbed one of his arms and had to use their whole muscle to hold back the Berserker from escaping.

The other three Councilmen, Aggius, Frostcap and Snowhawk, crossed the long bridge at last. Aggius folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe as he viewed the scene before him.

His half-closed eyes rested on a sitting Icarus, who scrambled to his feet. “Icarus, it would seem as if your negotiations did not go as planned,” Aggius stated in an unsurprised tone.

“What would you like us to do with the prisoner, Councilmen?” asked Napthali, wincing in pain as he held a struggling Ob.

--

The creaky prison bars were slid back and Ob was tossed against the stone dungeon wall with an unceremonious thud. The door was closed again and the Council (minus Icarus, who had turned in early that night after Ob‘s capture) left the way they came. Napthali was in front, listening more to the shouts coming from Ob’s cell. He was truly terrified.

“Your position of Defense Minister is Restored, Napthali,” announced Snowhawk, “All Council members present have voted so.”

The group started up a long flight of stairs. With each step, the musty atmosphere of the dungeon faded and the warmth of candelabras became more apparent by the Icewyrm’s boosted senses.

“No doubt Icarus will be indignant,” commented Snowhawk, yawning.

“Actually, I proposed the Restoration to young Icarus first. He voted so as well. I believe he will have more pressing matters to think about anyway,” replied Frostcap, motioning downstairs.

“Ah yes, the bloodthirsty savage, who Icarus was so sure would drop his large axe at his fine-tuned negotiation skills, has now transformed into a helpless wyrm-babe in need of the finest justice,” surmised Snowhawk.

They all reached the staircase top, where Napthali opened the door for everyone. The Council filed out into a brightly lit and carpeted hallway of the Fortress. Most of the retainers were in bed or off duty at this late hour of night.

“Ob will get that justice, Snowhawk. Those brown-armored beasts are no wyrm-babes, that is something we all are sure of, but we will let the gods decide his ultimate fate,” interjected Aggius as they crossed the hall. “But let’s allow tomorrow to watch over itself. The interrogations will begin at noon. Until then, I wish everyone a good night’s sleep.”

With that, the Council split up and departed into their individual chambers.

--

“I’ve been Restored, everybody,” repeated Napthali. The smithy and his entire family were gathered around the cave fire as they feasted on stew.

“Congratulations, Napthali,” the silversmith gruffly answered, his rough features breaking into a smile.

“I’ve always wanted to do that with a cauldron of hot coal,” muttered his wife. She beckoned to Napthali. “Anyway, sit down, Napthali! You’ll catch a cold if you stand out in the cave mouth too long. Have some of my celebratory stew.”

The Defense Minister thanked her and sat down amongst the smithy’s family. ‘The outside world can wait one more night,’ he said to himself as he sipped warm stew.

--

Ob shivered again. He was alone in the desolate dungeon beneath Aurora Fortress.

The cell was getting colder by the minute, and it had nothing to do with the actual dungeon. He could feel it. He could feel her, behind him.
She was in the corner behind and to the left of his shoulder. Her icy breath made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Ob did not turn to face her. He looked ahead, at the gap between two of the cell bars, where he could see the stone wall and a blazing torch. ‘Focus on the torch. Focus on the torch.’

Her light-hearted laughter cut like knives into his muscular, bare back. Ob tensed up, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

‘Focus on the fireflies in the torch.’

Ob’s eyes were practically bulging from their sockets. She laughed again.

‘Do not turn around. Focus on the stone brick.’

“Ob, dearie, and to think I promoted you as Hermes’ equal?” came her Voice.

He snapped his eyes shut. He soon realized that would not help at all. Her Voice still reached him.

“I trusted in you, Ob. Do you not remember how I helped you?”

A single memory floated down like a huge blanket, covering every facet of his mind. He had no other option but to recall it in full.

“Obracius, get down here this second!”

He was climbing the Paw at last, doing the very thing all the children had strived for. They had tried, but failed halfway, because of looking down or getting a scrape. Now he, Obracius, was at the top, the literal Peak of the Paw!

“Obracius, you listen to me! Get down here!”

Obracius looked down at the crowd of kids. In their midst was that annoying Elder Evinrude, always ordering around the little children. Obracius, don’t do that, Obracius, don’t touch that scorpion. He was fed up.

“I don’t have to listen to you, old man!”

For what seemed like an eternity he stayed at the mountain’s peak, invoking jealousy or anger amongst everyone. He was breaking the rules, what little Obracius did best.

He climbed down at last, and received forty spankings almost immediately. He had deserved them, no doubt. But it was worth it. Oh yes, it was worth it making the other children green with envy, making the Elder worry himself into a mess.

Only the next day he had run away from the village, taking with him enough supplies to last until the closest village. Something was calling him south.

“It was me, Ob, it was me who summoned you to leave behind that nasty little village, full of those righteous old fogeys,” coaxed her Voice, reminding him.

Ob re-opened his eyes, looking again at the wall and the torch, no longer afraid of her. “I h-hated that name,” he stammered, staring numbingly in one spot. He still had not turned around.

“Yes you did,” she replied.

Ob smiled groggily. “Obracius, what a foolish name…” she continued in her soothing Voice.

“Ob is much shorter…” He relaxed.

“Much simpler…” He was feeling warm again.

“Much more suiting for the big oaf you have become!”

Her Voice had become thunderous and loud once more, the cold and tension ambushing Ob’s body like double cutlasses!

“Turn to face me, bird dropping.”

Ob shivered again, compelled against his will to turn. He faced her.

For a second he saw her visage, only to be consumed suddenly by the most excruciating flame ever imaginable.

The desolate dungeon beneath Aurora Fortress was empty once more.
The cell was completely empty, save the charred remnants of Ob’s body.

[Auhin]

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Records of King Spencer

The next day, up on the battlements of Quagmira Castle, Evinrude leaned against one of the eastern turret’s teeth.

The old man’s eyes were squinting as he gazed upon the shimmering lake below, still peppered with the remains of yesterday’s battle; buoyant helmets and swords floated along the lake surface, the chunks of rock from the Bolganone and Blizzard spells lying peacefully on the lakebed. Even these impurities could not dampen the beauty of the capital’s surroundings.

But Evinrude’s thoughts were only half aware of what he was looking at; the other half was occupied by memories, memories of his early days of Eldership, back in his home village of Peak-of-the-Paw.

“Hello, sir,” came Yugasa’s kind voice. The Cleric looked somewhat sleepy still, but nonetheless cheerful. Evinrude grinned.

“Good morning, Yugasa! Did you get a good night’s rest?” he asked, averting his gaze and mind from what had lingered there, unmoving.

“Better than sleeping in chairs, I can tell you that,” she replied. They both laughed. The pair of travelers unconsciously leaned on the turret teeth again, Yugasa admiring the scenery, Evinrude trying to muster up the courage.

He decided to get it over with at last. “Yugasa, something’s been irritating me for some time now.”

Yugasa turned to him. “What is it, sir?”

“That Arachnei fellow, Admiral Ob I believe he called himself, do you remember when we ran into him at Mt. Lionspaw?” the Monk asked.

Yugasa looked back outwards at the lake. “How could I forget? Half-naked, yelling all the time, almost sliced you and Timothy in half!”

“Yes, that’s the one,” said Evinrude in a low voice, “I--I think he lived in Peak-of-the-Paw as a child. It all came back to me when he called me ‘old man.’”

By the way his voice sped up, Yugasa could tell this was important. “Really?”

“Yes, yes, and he was an orphan, always getting into trouble. He ran away,” continued Evinrude, “he ran away and we sent out a search party, but never found him. We all assumed he was dead and tried to forget the whole ordeal.” His voice was tinged with guilt.

The approaching footsteps of a green-robed Druid alerted their attention. “Her Majesty Queen Brook would like to speak with you both.”

--

The grand library of Quagmira Castle was empty save an orange-hooded boy and a few Mages on librarian duty. Huge stacks lined the walls and covered half of the chamber. The other half was full of long, wooden tables. The orange-hooded boy was hunched over an open tome.

Prince Stephen approached him, reading over his shoulder at the page. “ ‘The Elven Equality Act of 423’,” Stephen repeated, “ Says it was the ‘first day that elves could finally walk the streets of the capitals without fear of larceny or injury‘. Interesting stuff.”

He took a seat next to Benjamin, who looked up at him with wide eyes. “Have you read any of the Queen’s books yet? Especially the records, they’re all really interesting too!”

Stephen leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Hahaha, I’ve been in a lot of battles, Ben,” laughed Stephen, “but it takes a special kind of courage to sit through one of those primers.”

Benjamin turned back to his book as if Stephen had just disappeared into thin air. Then the boy began reciting lines from the page: “ ‘The most forthright supporters of the Elven Equality Act were not the DeHelb royalties, who seemed reluctant to put the Act into law; but the devotes of the shrine of the gods, who decried the acts of hatred against Elves the most, arguing that the presence of a holy shrine in the Northeast Forest was a sign that the gods were watching over the Elves as well.’ ”

Stephen furrowed his brow in interest. Benjamin looked back up to him. “I bet you didn’t know that?” The boy’s face was gravely serious.

‘That’s not at all what I heard from the mentor in my lesson scrolls,’ thought Stephen, ‘they just skipped right over that detail.’

Benjamin’s face broke into a grin. Stephen caught his contagious smile. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re freckles look like they’re popping out when you think real hard!” joked Benjamin, who promptly got up and began running.

“Why you little…” Stephen followed, chasing the small Shaman in circles around the stacks.

Benjamin collided, laughing, straight into the Queen on the fourth lap around the library. “Oh!”

Stephen saw the Queen and bowed. “Sorry, your Majesty, we were just--”

Queen Brook cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Never mind about that, Prince Stephen. We have some important matters to attend to.”

It was then that Stephen noticed behind her Druid guards were Timothy, Muriel, Ryu, Yugasa and Evinrude, all looking equally confused.

“Is this the one?” asked the Queen, pointing to a large, open tome on one of the tables that Stephen had somehow overlooked when he first entered the library. A Druid nodded “yes.”

“Come, gather round,” beckoned the Queen, walking up to the tome. Everyone formed a standing circle around the table. Queen Brook cleared her throat and began: “These are the records of King Spencer of Quagmira, year 148, in the middle of Spring. King Spencer wrote this as a synopsis of the ongoing war that had taken up the previous 2 years. It is as follows:

“As I gaze up at the shrine in the east wing of Quagmira Castle, I observe once more the mosaic of the bluebird flying from the sly fox, and I recount of our eager flight from the depths of the Magma Mines.
I fear those Mines, hidden under the beauty of that terrible paradise, Scalefang Island, where Overhilt’s greatest enemy for 8 seasons now slumbers in defeat.
Two very long years ago, the city of Arachnei, just north of Ferdinand’s capital, fell into the dark recesses of humanity.
Black magic darker and more cunning than even the Druids that reside here in my Castle,
Harlot nests, shrine burnings, riots, thieves’ dens, all were commonplace in that city.
When I, King Spencer of Quagmira, King Craw of Ferdinand, Queen Rhoda of Clairburg, and King Were-Michael of DeHelb all held council at DeHelb Keep, a decision was at last made.
Arachnei’s crimes were atrocious and dangerous to the rest of Ferdinand’s citizens. King Craw, backed by our reinforcements, sent soldiers into Arachnei at last.
The harlot nests were purged, the shrines rebuilt, the theives dispersed, yet all was not well.
For the city’s Duke and Duchess, the latter skilled in the Blackest Magic, were still unmolested and rallying troops to their command, angered by their own King’s interference in their city.
The next event I can only describe from what information I have collected from messengers and witnesses:
The Duchess, Lady Yanismette, executed the Blackest Magic, and annihilated her husband’s body entirely. The Duchess performed some sort of ritual. The spirit of the Duke was scattered to the four winds, and in an indescribable moment, every structure of the wicked city was in heaps, and all who had not fled the city, save her new army, died under the collapsed wreckage.
It was then that Lady Yanismette declared her army the Arachnei Rebellion and escaped from the city.
The two-year war had only begun.
At first the Rebellion attacked only cities of Ferdinand as revenge for King Craw’s justified military action.
But when Lady Yanismette got word of our council decisions at DeHelb Keep, she became enraged at every ruler and country in Overhilt, and her wrath expanded.
Swift invasions of each capital individually, coupled with the planting of double agents in the kingdoms’ very armies, made the Rebellion a formidable foe.
While the invasions of each country was staved off through allied defenses, the casualties were horrific. Brave warriors and wise mages from every city were lost, valuable treasuries plundered.
But at last the armies of Overhilt cornered the Rebellion at the southern coasts, where they fled by fleets to the dreaded climax of our war: we had chased them to Scalefang Island.
For weeks we battled on every bay, every lagoon, every pond, until the one place remaining for the Rebellion to flee was the one large volcano on the eastern portion of the Island.
It was here that the four armies of Overhilt, with even a few rare Icewyrm tacticians of the reclusive Aurora, had the Rebellion at endgame.
It was here that a raging battle ensued, one more violent than any before it.
It was here that the prisoners of war that had been captured by the Rebellion were busy slaving away.
It was here that Lady Yanismette once more executed the Blackest Magic.
Words cannot describe the vast Vortex that formed. A powerful enchantment had been cast, and when the Blackest Magic had subsided,
The Rebellion had vanished.
Lady Yanismette, the cocoon of Magic around her and in her deadly beautiful hands, plunged into the sea of lava below.
The war was won.
I do not hope to explain the things which I have seen in these last 2 years, and I do not expect the wisest of my counsel to do so as well.
All I can hope for is that this fine land of Overhilt never experiences a redux of these events.
May the sly fox never creep close enough to the bluebird again.
I, King Spencer the Quiet Observer, of the Kingdom of Quagmira in the continent of Overhilt, have concluded this terrible recount and record.”

Queen Brook shut the old tome and looked around at everyone. Not one person in the room was unaffected by the record that had just been read. Everyone was either gaping, speechless, deep in thought, or all three.

Only Stephen’s simple logic could wholly put into words what everyone else was thinking:
“History… is repeating itself.”

Silence ruled the room for seemingly eternal moments. Finally, Timothy broke the silence, speaking through gritted teeth, his mustache quivering: “I feel like a bloody fool. How could our scribes not have documented this? An entire war, lost in the annals of history?”

Queen Brook shook her head. “Do not blame your own kingdom. It was agreed upon among the leaders of that era that the war of 147 and 148 be only recorded in the library of Quagmira Castle. King Were-Michael, Queen Rhoda, King Craw, and our King Spencer all discouraged the passing of this story down through generations.”

Yugasa gave a soft laugh of grim realization. “And so time passed on, generations were born and raised never even knowing of it, and so on and so forth, until here: at the year 1109,” she connected.

“What intrigues me most,” added Ryu, “is how the entire army that survived the battle in the volcano just… disappeared completely. All it says is a ‘vast Vortex’. Then that Lady Thingummy--”

“--Yanismette, according to the records,” corrected her older sister.

“Whatever,” finished Ryu, rolling her eyes, “She took her own life deliberately?”

Evinrude, who hadn’t said anything yet, stopped stroking his black beard. “It would seem that way at first glance, but remember: the ‘cocoon of Magic’ was surrounding her body and in her hands.”

Timothy caught on. “And we know from Doctor Krommenberg that the Rebellion was busy recruiting for troops seven years ago, but even they couldn’t muster that much of an army right under Overhilt’s noses.”

“So somehow, when she used the ’Blackest Magic’ to make that Vortex, she made all of her surviving troops disappear and now, centuries later,” cut in an anxious Stephen, “they’ve reappeared suddenly.”

Queen Brook nodded calmly. “My thoughts exactly. Thank you very much for your presence this morning, dear Prince, but I am afraid I must bring up a sour topic,” she said gallantly, viewing everyone present. “The last leg of your journey is upon you. My Sage Clan and the Royal Guard of Clairburg have agreed to accompany you on your travels to Port Moorshell, where my deed and signature will earn you the finest ship in port. And then…”

It was young Benjamin, his eyes full of wonder and curiosity after everything that had been revealed that morning, that finished the Queen’s sentence: “Scalefang Island will be the ending destination, just like it was hundreds of years ago.”

[Auhin]

Chapter Twenty-Four: Parting Gifts

Muriel returned to her chamber later that morning to find Timothy already there, frantically packing vittles into her own haversack. “Timmy… W-what are you doing?” she asked softly.

He didn’t even look up at her as he folded clothes. “You’re returning to Arch. I will continue with the Prince and the others.”

Muriel ditched the gracious tone instantly, marching up and seizing Timothy by the wrist. “Timmy, look at me!” He did, staring right into her face with his narrow green eyes, watching over her protectively. “I came with you this far, haven‘t I?”

Timothy’s gaze was unmoving as he spoke in a low voice. “Yes, but you are with child now. If something happened to you both, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

Muriel stared at him blankly. “You’re allowing an eleven-year-old to travel overseas to Scalefang Island with you, but I can’t come?”

“Muriel, you know what that boy is capable of. His Dark Magic has gotten us out of one bind before,” Timothy counter argued, referring to Benjamin’s saving of Muriel only days earlier.

Before Muriel could respond, he removed his chest plate and unbuttoned the top three buttons on his tunic, revealing the beginnings of a muscled, hairy chest. Dangling there peacefully was a small copper pendant of what looked to be a small poleax and spear crossed together to form an “x” shape. Timothy pulled it up over his head and handed it to her. “Here,” he said simply.

“Lord Falcrow’s lucky charm?” gasped Muriel, taking the pendant slowly. “But didn’t he give it to you right before--” her voice trailed off as she saw him nodding meaningfully, eyes shut tight.

“Before the battle of Red Valley,” finished the General, “Before he died. Keep it, Muriel, and the winds of fate will always be on your side.” He pushed her hands close, making her clasp the charm.

A tear escaped her eye. “Stubborn as ever, Timmy. Stubborn as ever…” They shared a loving embrace. “Good luck. Watch over the Prince, and the sisters, and everyone. Give that elf a good swipe for me.”

--

Stephen rejoined a packed Yugasa and Ryu in the throne room. “Ready to leave?” asked Stephen, giving a deep sigh. Yugasa nodded silently.

Queen Brook walked up behind them. “Prince of DeHelb,” she greeted formally, “I almost forgot. We have a few… parting gifts to bestow upon you and your company before departure.”

Stephen looked past the Queen and spotted a Mage servant struggling under the weight of a suit of red armor lined with silver edges. “For me?!” he asked, beaming at the Queen.

“Correct. And for you, sisters of DeHelb,” said the Queen, looking at Yugasa and Ryu. Two more servants appeared, one holding magnificent robes of scarlet and lavender, the other holding a blue helmet with a long tip and two matching blue arm plates.

Benjamin and Evinrude entered the throne room and observed all of the new wardrobe additions. The boy exclaimed: “Wow, look at Stephen‘s shiny new armor!”

The Queen looked over at the two who had just arrived. “And I haven’t forgotten either of you.” Two more servants appeared from side room, one holding large robes of orange with blue linings and the other holding robes similar in size and shape to Yugasa’s new ones, except these were yellow and brown.

--

The midmorning sun was shining brightly as the company exited the Castle. Muriel and the Queen had come out to see them off. The Royal Guard and Sage Clan had already left for Port Moorshell and had probably arrived already.

Stephen and Ryu’s new armor glinted in the sunlight, especially the Prince. Benjamin cut a comical figure in his oversized orange robes and hood up on his head as always, with even wider sleeves.

Stephen leaned over to Yugasa and whispered, “Benjamin was acting strangely just a minute ago. When we all had to change, he insisted upon using a separate chamber from me instead of the one we had both spent the night in. He saw me undress twice already, and come to think of it, I’ve never seen him without that orange robe until now, but even it‘s orange as well!”

Yugasa rolled her eyes. “All little children have clothing items they hold dear, remember your red cape?” she said, nodding to the cape trailing off his suit. “I’ve never seen you not wear it to battle.”

“But it’s not the sa-- oh, never mind…” Stephen, seeing that any further arguing would result in Yugasa’s grumpiness, he ceased and desisted, walking back to Timothy and Muriel.

“Good-bye, Muriel,” he said, “hope the baby stays in good health.” Muriel immediately embraced Stephen before he could walk away.

“Gods be with you, Prince,” she said through teary eyes as she clutched him tight. Stephen, gasping for air, patted her on the back.

At last the released him. Stephen then walked over to Benjamin and Evinrude. “Are we all ready to leave?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, all ready,” replied Evinrude.

“You can call me Stephen, you know,” assured the Prince, smiling. “I haven’t been in DeHelb for weeks now.”

At last it was time to leave. The group, unsure of what lay ahead, began walking. They crossed the long stone bridge over the shimmering lake, wondering whether they would ever rest eyes on it again.

The group, Stephen and Timothy at its head, with Evinrude holding up the rear, crossed back into the groves and forests, going due south. Sunlight was splintered by the canopy of trees as they marched southwards. Moorshell would be upon them in no time.

Clop, clop.

Stephen looked around at everyone as they marched on. He had taken for granted the valuable time they had spent together, traveling. Even though it was fraught with perilous battles, wartime had made for some unforgettable memories.

Stephen had bonded with Timothy, with Yugasa, with Benjamin… And he loved it. But something was missing. And deep down he knew what it was:
His father.

The Prince had tried keeping his mind off it, off that mental picture of the Rebellion invading his father’s throne room. He was still uninformed of the own father’s fate, whether he was dead, wounded on the battlefield and left for dead, or captured…

Stephen suddenly connected the dots. ‘The records… They mentioned that the prisoners of war were at Scalefang Island, slaving away! If the Rebellion is still using Scalefang Island as their base of operations, then--’

A dragon roar from overhead turned everyone’s attention up. Ryu had an embarrassed smile on her face. “It’s just Kioko, she thinks she sees another wyvern,” she tried to explained.

Knowing wyvern’s excellent eyesight, this only made some of the party nervous. Seeing the needed clarification, Ryu rolled her eyes and added, “No, just-- look.” Ryu pointed ahead.

Stephen ran forward and peeked under some low-hanging branches. After a few moments, he gave a hearty laugh, then he beckoned for everyone behind to follow him.

The group emerged onto a dirt-covered path in the middle of a large, sandy expanse of beach. At the paths’ end was a small town consisting of about twenty or so houses, bamboo fences and a few chicken coops. Large docks lined the far side of the town, and only a single ship was docked at the moment.

It was a fine-looking vessel made of wood, with only two steel cannons and five tall sails that peirced the noontide sky. But on its bow was the source of hilarity: the carved wooden image of the torso of a large male wyvern stood frozen in time, looking eastward with its unblinking eyes. Its wooden scaly wings were melded into the starboard and port sides of the ship.

Kioko roared again in high-pitched manner. Timothy, Yugasa and Evinrude could not resist laughing as well. Even young Benjamin giggled a little when he realized what was occurring.
Kioko was in love with a wooden carving.

And it was wyvern mating season.

[Auhin]

Chapter Twenty-Five: Picture in the Sky

Napthali was up early next morning, meditating up on the high mountain ledge. It was his favorite place to go when in times of happiness or sorrow, confusion or confidence.

Now Napthali was there to give thanks to the gods and the Icewyrms of old who, he was sure, had helped him through yesterday’s battle.

About an hour into his meditation, the sound of footsteps in the snow and someone clearing their throat caught his attention. Napthali sat up to see Councilman Frostcap standing there, smiling.

“Oh! Councilman!” greeted Napthali, who bowed a little and rushed to his side.

“Good morning, Napthali,” greeted Frostcap. “You performed excellently last evening. I--”

The Defense Minister interrupted him. “You don’t have to apologize, sir, it was wartime, and your son--”

“My son was a brave warrior,” Frostcap continued, his glare turning icy. “…under the orders of a brave Defense Minister.” His returning smile brought relief and warmth to Napthali.

“I am truly sorry for voting to Revoke your title, Napthali. I thought that I could avenge my son by taking out my anger on you and not the enemy,” Frostcap said seriously. “You, Napthali-- you avenged my son last night. And I express my greatest thanks.”

After a few seconds of silence out in the snow, Napthali nodded towards the Fortress.
“Oh, right!” exclaimed Frostcap, “Now let’s go see if we can’t get some answers out of that ruffian!”

Napthali and Frostcap made off for the Fortress slowly and taking their time to catch up with one another. The two trotted across the long bridge, into the Fortress, down the hall, greeted some retainers, and then turned the way they had come last night.

As soon as Napthali swung open the door to the long stairway down, the grave faces of Councilmen Aggius, Icarus, and Snowhawk (plus a timid jail guard) met them.

“What has happened?” asked Frostcap, seeing the others’ expression.

Snowhawk looked up, scrunching his large gray eyebrows together. “The prisoner… he’s dead. Burned alive.”

“Burned alive?!” repeated a confused Napthali, who rushed down the stairway, brushing past the others’ wings in the process. At the bottom he hurried along to Ob’s cell. The gruesome sight caused him to look away immediately. The image of a burned skeleton, half of its ribs and limbs missing, surrounded by piles of ash lingered in his mind for years to come.

“The Prophecy, Sixth Chronicle,” recalled Snowhawk after moments of silence, “it’s the only instance where this kind of Black Magic is mentioned.”

Aggius and Snowhawk shared a mutual nod that no-one else seemed to notice in the dank dungeon. Aggius then cleared his throat: “I request a moment of privacy with the Defense Minister,” rumbled his old voice.

Napthali, still disgusted by the awful sight of Ob’s remains, slowly climbed back up the stairs, with Aggius only steps ahead. The two emerged into a hall, where Aggius pointed towards the way he had come. “Outside, if you would, Napthali.”

The Defense Minister felt no other option but to follow. Aggius sounded both serious and eager, as if the answers to the mystery of the brown-armored soldiers and their combusting leader awaited on the bridge.

As they walked, they spoke. “How..?” was all Napthali could manage to say. With every step he felt like he was racing to keep up with the old Icewyrm.

“It was not anyone’s work here, I can assure you. No Icewyrm has the ability to scorch, only to freeze. Aurora is the coldest place on Overhilt. No normal flame could do that to a human,” said Aggius.

Another hall, and they were both back outside, the snowfall giving the landscape another layer of white beauty. Neither, however, could focus on anything but their thoughts. Aggius unfurled his large wings.

The wings flapped up strong gales as Aggius rose into the air. Napthali realized that the old Icewyrm was far from decrepit. Following suit, Napthali spread his wings and rose into the air as well.

Without warning, Aggius flew off in a northern direction, away from the bridge and the Fortress. Napthali followed, still puzzled.

For what seemed like hours they flew, past the circle of mountains that protected and sheltered the Fortress and the cave networks which held the Icewyrm citizens. Now they were back on the other side, an endless snowy expanse of plains. ‘Except,’ thought Napthali, ‘there are no glaciers like there are south of the mountains.’

It was here on these plains that Aggius at first began descending in altitude. Both figures began descending, down, down, down, until they landed in the snow with a skid, leaving two trails of snow unearthed and displaced.

Napthali shielded his eyes, for at that moment strange lights lit up the northern sky, stellar multicolored auras that rippled like curtains of pure energy.

After the miracle had faded away to the ordinary darkish hue of gray, Napthali turned his gaze to ground level. There, only yards away, was what looked like the remains of a gazebo.

Seven pillars in varying degrees of decay stood in a circular formation over a stone platform that rose out of the snow a couple of inches, a few snow-covered steps connecting it to the ground. The remnants of the gazebo’s roof lay around the vicinity of the structure, scattered as if the whole place were ripped apart by a giant.

In its middle was a broken pavilion, snapped clean in half. The bottom half, which rested upright, was the only half to be seen. Aggius approached the gazebo ruins solemnly. Napthali slowly followed.

“This was once a shrine that held the most valuable and deadly artifact known to man or Icewyrm,” stated Aggius, viewing the ruined place. “An artifact so terrible that when it was stolen centuries ago, no-one dared pursue the thief.”

“An artifact was stolen from our tribe, and we did not recover it?” asked Napthali in disbelief.

“Truly a grave mistake, young Napthali. Truly. We even had placed a Spell here that would show us wherever the artifact was at any time we wished,” he continued. Napthali gaped.

“D-does the Spell still exist today, sir?” stammered Napthali, barely able to contain his curiosity.

“Yes, yes it does,” Aggius answered. “And that is why we have come here now: to find out the artifact’s whereabouts.” With this he stooped down on one knee and began making a noise (which, Napthali realized later) was more of a song.

Aggius’ voice was so low and bellowing that Napthali at first thought there was an earthquake approaching. But then, as the melodious notes sunk in, he even began to feel a bit drowsy.

After the song had been going on for some time (he was sure it had been at least two verses already), something happened to the patch of sky directly over them.

The sky rippled like a curtain, and an image of a peaceful island appeared in its place, as if he were looking through a giant window in the heavens.

The picture was shaking and almost too bright to look at, but he could make out its distinct shape and size, and most strikingly, the large volcano that took up much of the image. Napthali was absorbed into its detail, frightened by the thought of so much fire in one place and no trace of ice or snow in sight.

As quick as it had appeared it was gone, and Napthali, having been so entranced and amazed by the picture in the sky, suddenly realized the song had ended seconds ago. He looked down at the pavilion and gasped.

“Aggius!” Napthali ran forward as fast as he could to the crumpled yet large form of the Councilman who had fallen down. He turned him over. Aggius’ face was cold and clammy, his eyes glazing over.

“Young Napthali, y-you must go… Go to the south, to the i-island in the picture… Go to the picture, y-young Napthali,” sputtered the old Icewyrm, his wings having fast, separate spasms. Napthali couldn’t help but let the tears fall freely from his eyes.

“Aggius! Get up, sir!” cried Napthali. But Aggius was shaking his head.

“The Spell has been sung, the artifact’s l-location revealed… G-go to the island, find the artifact,” said Aggius with his last breath, “find th-the F-fire… Emblem…”

With the word “Emblem” Aggius’ eyes closed for the final time. The old, wrinkled Icewyrm had passed on.

Muttering a prayer to the gods, Napthali beat his wings against the wind and rose upwards, soaring towards the mountains and the Fortress without looking back.

He would gather victuals, and then it was southbound for Napthali.