Chapter 9: Fluorspar’s Oath Chapter 11: Scorched Sand
Chapter 10: Father and Son
Barely a day and a night later, we stood looking down on Grado City, the capital of the Grado Empire. It had been so long since I had seen it, and it was the same as ever – proud dark stone walls rising up out of a lush green valley. The Keep stood at the head of the city, even taller. We had not encountered any resistance since Hanarka, which was suspicious to me, but I would take whatever seemed like good fortune I could get. The capital itself seemed normal, if a little quieter than usual; she seemed unaware that a hostile force was camped almost at her very gates.
The last time I was there, two years ago, it had been for my education. I’d studied martial arts with Duessel, but the intellectual side of my studies I was hopeless in. If it hadn’t been for Lyon’s patient help, I would have flunked every test and then some. Books just held no interest for me. Lyon, on the other hand, absorbed them like a sponge does water, but was defeated soundly by Eirika in combat, so he came to me for additional sparring practice. He and I had a good friendship, each helping the other. And of course he had a good friendship with Eirika; she was more sympathetic than I was, and when I was a jerk, she would comfort him while I snickered at them both or stood shamefaced.
Being a kid was pretty fun in Grado, books aside.
But in the present, I stood under a tree with Duessel and Syrene, examining our courses of action.
“I’d recommend not attacking through the city, if you hope to keep the civilians safest,” Duessel said to me.
“Mm,” Syrene nodded. “They are still generally ignorant of what has happened to the emperor, and the monstrous state of the continent?”
“As far as I knew,” Duessel said. “They are suspicious, but some of the rumours are stranger than truth – though not by much, given what we’ve learned so far. Ephraim, what do you- Ephraim!”
“Hm?” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry, just wishing we were all kids again. What was that?”
“Come on, lad, pay attention,” Duessel said, an eyebrow raised. “I thought you only drifted off in history classes.”
“And math classes…” But his point was made. “I’m here. I apologize.”
Syrene bowed her head. “No worries, my lord. General Duessel has made the suggestion that we attack the Keep on the side facing away from the city.”
I looked at Duessel skeptically. “Won’t the whole rest of the army be waiting for us? There are only two gates on that side, and it’s the obvious point of attack for us, since we don’t want to involve the civilians. And Grado Keep has never fallen, not in all the long years and disagreements since its founding.”
Duessel nodded. “True. But that is not the whole plan. You remember how many gates there are on the civilian side?”
I shrugged. “Yes?”
“We have many mercenaries and relatively ordinary-looking soldiers. Even with the defeat of General Selena, they will not be so cautious. Grado has not fought in any of the continental wars for almost two hundred and fifty years. They have forgotten what to do, trusting in their reputation and thick walls to protect them.”
“And they don’t have your leadership to think of these things,” I said, glancing at him sidelong. “So we sneak in our soldiers through the back gates and use them to prevent the Gradonians from closing the front gates when we attack?”
“Exactly,” Duessel said.
“It sounds awfully risky to me,” Syrene said, frowning. “Our soldiers will have no armour and will be outnumbered.”
“That’s why we send in the rogues,” I said, smiling. “We’ve picked up a number of them. Also our brawny or skilful soldiers could evade or endure injury long enough for us to get inside and pick them up. We just have to be careful that the people we send don’t look like soldiers.”
Syrene grimaced. “This sounds ridiculous, but as you are both confident it will work… Once we are inside, we head straight to the throne room, yes? May I suggest a primarily cavalry attack, supported by mages?”
I nodded. “That sounds good, Syrene. Brief your troops. We’ll send in the clowns in about an hour, attacking thirty minutes after that.”
Both generals saluted and left, leaving me with a small indigo-haired girl who had crept up to me while we were talking.
“Ephraim?” she said, and another earthquake rocked the ground quite forcefully. She cried out and flailed for balance.
I caught her, though she probably didn’t need my assistance, and sat down beside her. “What is it, Myrrh?”
She was distracted by the tremor. “Um… Ephraim, are earthquakes really this common in Grado?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. It’s always been like this. They say that this valley is slowly moving in two directions on the other side of the city. There’s an old road heading up into the hills that they say was straight, back when Grado was founded, but now it’s really crooked.” I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, it’s not caused by the darkness.”
She nodded, smiling a little back at me. “The earth is alive. The volcanoes on the edge of Darkling Woods show that as well. But… Ephraim?”
“Yes, Myrrh?”
“The darkness is in that castle. A broad pool of it, deep within the walls… so very dark… and cold…” She shivered and pulled her little cloak closer around her, and I put an arm around her, although physically she was not cold in the warm Grado air.
The chosen soldiers, volunteers all, wandered down to the city, mingling with the people on the roads pretty well. They wouldn’t have much time to get to the gates, especially the ones who had been sent in further back from the castle.
Syrene had lined up her cavalry and the Frelian pegasus corps, waiting for my signal. Without any way for the infiltrating soldiers to warn us, we could only go by the timing – when the bell tower in town struck eleven, we would go.
The bell rang, and I raised my clenched hand in the air and swung up behind Deussel – he would take me to the gates on his horse. With a thunder of hooves and a massive cloud of dust, we charged down the valley side towards the gates.
At the same moment, I heard sudden shouting from within the castle; one of the gates slammed shut, but the other seemed stuck. And the one which slammed, which was the one Deussel and I were headed to, was not barred. After a few minutes, it creaked open a few feet, not much, but enough for us.
Deussel himself, at the gates, dismounted, seized one, and hauled it open. More soldiers did the same for the other gate, and then our cavalry were inside, the cavaliers with their lances set, the mounted mages behind them providing covering fire. I myself darted inside at their head and ran at a small group of enemy swordsmen.
As the battle unfolded, I ended up sending the heavy cavalry down the left hall into the castle, while on the right a smaller guard of infantry captained by Gilliam and healed by Father Moulder held the flank. The enemy fought hard, but they were clearly outnumbered and outmatched, and although they were fighting on their native soil for the capital of their land, they were dismayed. There were also fewer than I expected. Surely my intentions hadn’t been that hard to follow? Was something wrong?
But I pushed away those thoughts, as my only goal now was to reach the throne room, where I was certain Emperor Vigarde would be. He never fled from anything, and although Grado had changed so much over the last months, I trusted that he would not have lost that.
Nor was I disappointed. As we broke down the doors to the throne room, evading the eerie light from the Berserk staves held by druids, I saw him. His long greying violet hair still flowed over his shoulders, and his purple cloak fell to his feet around his throne. He rose at our entry, and I saw he was sheathed head to foot in his ornate armour, and he lifted a huge shining battleaxe.
“Vigarde!” I cried, striding up to him as Syrene skewered a druid behind me. “Why did you invade Renais? Why did you kill my father?”
He didn’t answer, but stared at me with tired, dead eyes that did not quite rise to my gaze.
“I’ve waited so long to ask these questions of you. Please! Answer me!”
He stood there, as if waiting for something, and I dropped my head a bit. “So it is true… Your senses are gone. In that case, forgive me.”
I moved forward to attack, but my hands were shaking. This man was Lyon’s father; the father of my true friend. Even if he was mad, or even – as I now suspected – there was something even darker and more sinister at work in his mind and body, how could I kill him?
I lunged forward and my eyes widened in consternation. That was the clumsiest attack I’d made in months!
“Okay, self, don’t quit on me now,” I muttered, skipping backwards out of the reach of the huge axe. But my movement was not the fluid, instinctive movements of my normal skill, but the jerky, instinctive scrambling of a complete novice. What was wrong with me?
My breath came in short gasps and I forced myself to control my breathing as Vigarde walked slowly towards me. I dodged under the axe again and rolled to the side and ended up tumbling down the short steps to the throne’s dias, cracking my left elbow and shoulder hard. I sprang up with an angry cry of frustration and leapt back up the steps, pulling my lance back, and –
No. That was wrong. That was why I was messing up. I was thinking too hard about it. But now, I couldn’t stop! I was too close to him; there was no way to disengage without taking a hit.
Besides, if I pulled out while I was losing, there was no way my body would remember its confidence ever again.
In the time it took me to realize all this, Vigarde had calmly turned to face me and had drawn his axe back in both hands, leaving him wide open.
“Prince Ephraim!” cried Deussel in the melee below me.
I clenched my teeth, seized my lance, and thought of my father.
Reginleif passed cleanly through Vigarde’s chest, just as the giant axe sliced cleanly along my thigh.
I choked in agony, but before I could fall to the floor, cool blue-white light surrounded me, and my wound vanished. I glanced around, and Father Moulder was right behind me, his eyes burning with determination and his staff burning with healing power.
Vigarde did fall to the floor, taking my lance with him. But to our horror, his body turned black, flaked at the edges, and crumbled, leaving only a fine black ash inside his clothing and armour.
“What- what just happened?” I said warily, reaching carefully to pick up my lance as if it might be diseased.
Syrene appeared on my other side, saluting. Her posture was tired, and blood was drying on her face from a head wound.
“Prince Ephraim, the castle has been secu- what happened!?” She lost her disciplined stance momentarily as she recoiled from the empty, blackened armour.
“Dark magic, I guess?” I muttered. “Myrrh could tell me. What have you found?”
“The main part of the castle has been secured,” Syrene corrected herself. “I will be taking a patrol through shortly to check for pockets of resistance.”
“Thanks for telling me. Oh! Wait, I’ll come with you. We might find Lyon. He’s probably hiding out in his library. Laboratory. Place.”
I followed after her as she nodded and strode off, gathering some pegasus knights from her wing to accompany us.
The depths of the castle seemed darker than I remembered. It wasn’t as clean as I remembered. There was a strange smell, faint, but strong enough to irritate my nose. I huffed at it. “Looks like the servants were slacking – not that I blame them.”
“Indeed, my lord.”
“I guess that’s what happens when your emperor is a construct, even if no one realizes it out loud. Everything goes downhill, just a little bit at a time.”
“Of course, my lord.” Syrene’s voice was formal, tightly controlled, but there was an undercurrent of affectionate amusement. I glanced at her, but her face was steady and emotionless.
I pointed a finger at her. “If you tell me that I remind you of Innes, I will kick his butt five ways from Wednesday.”
I could see her struggling to maintain her composure, trying not to laugh, and inadvertently confirmed my guess. I walked ahead, smirking to myself. Oh, Innes. Such a pain.
Then I turned a corner into a larger room – the antechamber to Lyon’s chambers – and my smile faded.
He stood there, lavender hair streaming down his black-cloaked back as he stared out a window. His shoulders were slumped under his ornamental pauldrons, and his hair was unkempt.
“Lyon!” I cried, quickening my pace until I could speak without shouting. He flinched – such a Lyon-ish gesture – and turned to face me. His eyes darkened, literally, as he began to speak.
“Hello, Ephraim. I’ve been waiting for you. You beat my father? Of course you did, otherwise you wouldn’t be down here yet. You really are powerful, aren’t you, Ephraim?”
I frowned. His voice was too unconcerned, too confident, too… cheerful. Syrene and her knights hurried to my side, ready to back me up if necessary. “Lyon! Is that really you? What’s happened in Grado? Why… everything? What happened to your father?”
His eyes shifted from side to side, his face changing rapidly from one expression to another. He made no move to speak, so I kept asking questions.
“When Grado invaded us, why didn’t you stop them? You’re not caught up in this madness too, are you? Why would these things happen? You told me that all you wanted was the same thing your father wanted – continental peace!” When he still didn’t speak, I shouted at him in anguish. “Answer me, Lyon!”
He whimpered then, a tiny sound, as he doubled up, seemingly in pain. I started to reach for him, but Syrene held me back. I tried to pull away, but stopped as Lyon straightened up with a grim smile.
“Let me tell you something, Ephraim. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.” My mouth fell open in shock, but he continued. “I’ve planned this my whole life. Even before I met you and your sister. But I needed to befriend you two. How else would I know where to attack? Not that I really needed to be so careful; Renais wasn’t prepared for any kind of assault! You fools. But thanks to you, I learned all that I needed to know. And not just about Renais, but about Frelia, as well. Why do you think I invaded so quickly there after Renais?”
He stopped, fixed me with a creepy grin, and waved a finger in my face. “Because you betrayed everything you held dear to me, your closest ‘friend’, while you feigned compassion for my weakness and secretly scorned me behind my back.”
I felt like he’d kicked me in the gut, and I interrupted him. “How could you think – we never…”
“Shall I tell you a story?” he interrupted me right back. “Would you like to hear of your father’s last moments?”
I stared, trying to see my friend in the grinning monster who stood in front of me.
“You’ll laugh, really,” he told me, chuckling himself. “He’s so weak, and yet he tried so hard. He looked at me, and he couldn’t attack me, while Naglfar tore-“
“Lyon!” I barked, trying to tear away from Syrene. More pegasus knights hurried forward to hold me back. Those girls were strong. “Stop insulting my father! Don’t make me hurt you – I’m the better fighter and you know it!”
He looked surprised, actually surprised, as if he had fully expected me to join in with him. His reaction confused me. What was going on?
“You’re in my way, Ephraim,” he growled, angry now, brows lowering over unnaturally dark eyes. His breath came out in a hiss. “You can’t stop me. I will destroy the Stones of Jehanna and Rausten. Then no one can stop me. Not even you. I’ll save you, you and your precious sister, to the end, so you can see the death of everyone and everything you hold dear…” And then he jerked, like a puppet on a string, and his eyes changed again, and the voice was slightly strangled when he spoke. “Ah… Let’s meet again, shall we? Assuming you actually live long enough to die by my hand. Like father, like son, eh?”
I finally tore away from Syrene, reaching out to shake him, to kill him, to hug him, anything to make him tell me what was going on, but purple rune-infested light shot up around him and he vanished. He had teleported away.
I slumped to the floor and sighed in frustration and despair. I didn’t understand a thing of what was going on. I wanted to see Eirika. She’d know.
Syrene took a step forward and helped me up, just as a pair of soldiers came hurrying around the corner ahead. “Sir! Sir! We’ve found the cells. There are captives!”
“Coming at once, men,” Syrene said to them, and led me after them.
The cells were grim; the smell of death hung in the air even if executions were held outside. They were also rather full, or at least half-full, which was pretty full by Grado’s former standards. I stepped to the first cell, where a small pile of dark robes huddled into the back corner.
“Hello?” I said cautiously.
The figure did not even raise his head. “Who is it? Has my execution been moved up on the schedule?”
“I’m Ephraim of Renais. Who are you?”
Now the figure looked up. “That’s an odd name for an executioner.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “And an odd question. Wouldn’t you know your own prisoners?”
“I’m not an executioner,” I told him. “I’m a soldier. I’m here to free you. What is your name?”
He got up and came over to me; a soldier hurried over and unlocked the door for him. “I am Knoll. Until recently, I was one of Grado’s top researchers into arcane matters.”
“So why are you locked up here?” I asked, helping him out. “And what can you tell me of Lyon? What’s happened to him? What is he doing?”
He was silent a moment, looking around with wary, pale eyes.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” I began, but was cut off.
“Knoll!” my old mentor stepped up to us. “Glad to see you, at least, are still alive.”
“General Obsidian,” Knoll responded, bowing. “I can say the same to you.”
“I’m not really Obsidian anymore,” Deussel said. “I’m serving with Ephraim now. You can tell him everything. He’s working to end this war and defeat the monsters.”
Knoll paused for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. What were your questions again?”
“What is Lyon doing? I want to ask him myself, but he disappeared.”
The shaman stared at me. “You want to talk to Prince Lyon? You really don’t know what’s happened.”
“Please, please, please tell me!” I begged. “Everyone either dies or refuses to talk to me!”
He nodded. “Stop me when you wish. I do not think you will like to hear parts of it. About a year ago… the emperor died. His health had been get worse steadily, and then…”
“Wait, but…” I began. “I just killed him. Except he… dissolved.”
“Please let me tell my story in order,” Knoll said. I was leading him and Deussel out of the dungeons while Syrene freed the other prisoners. “Prince Lyon was devastated by his father’s death and fell into despair. He felt he was unworthy to take the throne, and refused to rule without his father.” I sighed in exasperation. That was extreme, even for Lyon. “He began searching for a way to resurrect him…”
“Wait, what?” I blurted out. “That’s not even possible! …Is it?”
Knoll frowned. “As you know, the Stone of Grado is possessed of …unique powers. It was once used to seal away the Demon King, and it alone held the dark one’s soul. It burned within the Demon King’s rage, and we called it the Fire Emblem. Prince Lyon and a team of mages skilled in ancient lore hoped to harness its energies. I remember the joy in Prince Lyon’s eyes when he spoke of using it to save lives.” Knoll’s own eyes lit up, and I could imagine Lyon in his happy moods. “Prince Lyon told us he intended to use the Fire Emblem to restore the emperor. His death had been kept from the public, but rumours were beginning to fly. We knew we had to hurry, before the people learned the truth of the emperor’s death. Prince Lyon dedicated himself to research, skipping meals, foregoing sleep… And then…”
“What happened?” I asked, truly anxious.
Knoll sighed. “I wasn’t there, so I did not witness it firsthand. But the time I arrived, the deed had already been done. The Fire Emblem had been shattered, split in two. One was a Sacred Stone, and the other…”
“It was evil in a jar, wasn’t it,” I finished for him.
Knoll nodded once, jerkily. “He called it the Dark Stone. Before my eyes, he brought his father’s body to life, and then crushed the Sacred Stone, claiming he needed no other. And then he said… he said that the other stones must also be destroyed, that they were in his way, that he had no need for them now that he had the Dark Stone.”
“Right.” I nodded. “So all we have to do now is destroy the Dark Stone. But he probably won’t give it up without a fight. I wonder if that’s why he’s been destroying the Sacred Stones? Because they can counteract the Dark Stone? …Why would he give it such a clichéd name, anyway?” I pulled a face. “For all he’s a genius, he’s not very original.”
“What happened to you after that?” Deussel asked gently. “Is that when he threw you in prison to be executed?”
Knoll shrugged. “I was thrown in prison, yes, but the order for my execution only came a short while ago, when the Stone of Frelia was destroyed. And there were a number of people to get through before me. My execution was to be tomorrow. I am saved by chance.”
I sobered. “I wish we could have arrived sooner. I heard about Father MacGregor, but I did not know there were others.” I kicked a stray arrow, lying spent on the floor from the combat earlier. “What sort of kingdom does that to its own people?”
“This is not Grado anymore, Ephraim,” Deussel rumbled. “Or at least, Emperor Vigarde was not Emperor Vigarde, and I would expect Prince Lyon is not right in his mind either. Where is he now, do you think, Knoll?”
“I would that I knew,” the shaman said heavily. “Prince Lyon frightens me now. He is transformed…”
“He’s… he’s still my friend,” I said haltingly. “I still want to save him, if I can.”
Knoll looked at me, then nodded understandingly. “Come with me.”
He led us to the castle chapel. I recognized it at once.
“What’s here?” I asked. “Surely not the Sacred Stone, since he destroyed it…”
“No,” Knoll said. “But I think they might have left something else you might find of use.” He went to a heavy ornate chest and lifted the lid. Deussel had to help him. “Ah, yes, they are still here.”
“The Sacred Twins of Grado?” I asked. Then I lifted my hand. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Let me think… ummm… The ancient weapons wielded by the founders of our nations… Grado’s were the… Black Axe, Garm, and the magic tome… Glei…p…nir?”
Knoll smiled, probably at the soldier fumbling with his history. “You remember.”
“It was something Lyon had to teach me several times over,” I said, making a face. “I only ever remember Garm. They are still there? Why?” I wondered if Lyon knew he might become insane and left them for us, but that was a ridiculous thought.
“I do not know,” Knoll said. “Regardless, please take them with you.”
“That’s all right, right, Deussel?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed,” the old knight said, lifting the axe with reverence. “This is a beautiful weapon. We shall take good care of it.”
I glanced at Knoll, who saw the look, and answered: “I want you to have them. And maybe… Maybe someone else wanted you to have them as well.”
We gave the troops a rest, that night, having accomplished our main objective. Deussel and Syrene and I talked a bit late, discussing our next objectives – should we conquer the rest of the country? Should we return to Frelia? Should we press on to Jehanna? – and where the other Generals, Valter, Riev, and Caellach, might be. It was not like Valter, in particular, to leave us alone for so long, and he had not challenged us since we left Bethroen. I was suspicious.
Eventually we retired for the night without coming to a consensus, and woke early next morning, to reconvene in the throne room. Our men had drawn back the curtains, letting warm sunlight into the hall. Deussel and Knoll, on top of everything else, had gotten in touch with people in the city, and already civilians were around, mostly cleaning, restocking, and such. We would leave behind half of our army, no matter what else, to hold the Keep and maintain order.
Surprisingly, the leaders in the city did not seem terribly displeased by our presence. They remembered our nations’ friendship, and seemed to regret the war, by the most part, from the reports that were brought to me. Some of the reports, though, brought wild tales of raided graveyards, of howling in the forests and hills, and strange shapes that made people afraid to leave the city after dark. I believed them. They believed that we would protect them better than their insane, war-mongering leadership of the past six months. Perhaps.
Syrene and Deussel were arguing about the significance of the Sacred Stones to military strategy when a loud clatter from the entrance to the throne room caught our attention. An exhausted, trembling pegasus stood there, its rider looking half-ready to fall off at any moment. Soldiers rushed to assist her, and the three of us hurried down, shocked, to meet her.
“What’s happened?” Syrene demanded. “Bring this knight a glass of water! What’s the news?”
“It’s- it’s- We’ve received dire news from Jehanna!” the pegasus knight gasped out, gratefully taking the glass from a young serving girl and sipping it as slowly as she could stand to. Her pegasus had been likewise brought water, and did not hold back. “It’s about Princess Eirika and Prince Innes… They’re under attack by Grado forces led by Tiger Eye and Moonstone.”
“Eirika,” I cried, stepping forward.
Syrene halted me with a subtle gesture of her hand. “We were wondering where they were. For them to abandon the capital like that…”
“The Knights of Rausten have ridden to the eastern front to aid Frelia, but the enemy attacks have been brutal. I fear for their survival,” the pegasus knight continued, her large brown eyes beseeching us for reassurance.
“We’ll march for Jehanna at once! With all the soldiers willing to come with us!” I declared, straightening my shoulders and turning with a swirl of my cloak.
“Prince Ephraim! Even now, we might not make it in time – Jehanna is still several days’ travel!” Syrene said anxiously, but I could see she, too, was worried.
“I know,” I said. “But Eirika needs rescuing again, and if the Raustenians fail, we’re the only ones who can help her. My knights are with her, Seth is with her, but she’ll need more than that if she’s to escape Caellach and Valter.” Especially Valter. I heard how he had hounded her on her chase to rescue me from Renvall. “Besides. Eirika is my sister. That one will never lay down her blade. And I am Eirika’s brother. There is no way I’ll let my sister die!”