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Warriors of the Emblem, Pt III

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     “Fucking hell…  How are you still coming so hard?”  Hector spoke the question silently, to himself.  Both he and Ike were fighting still, even after thirty minutes.  Yet, this warrior never seemed to tire!  Coupled with the wounds he had taken, Ike shouldn’t be standing, in Hector’s eyes.  The warrior had taken just as many wounds, and was feeling the fatigue.  The style that Ike was using was unusual, and could only be described best by being called ‘suicidal’.  He’d never backed down from a blow, only tried to maneuver around it.  It was as if he would always return the blow he received.  It was a stark contrast to what he expected of the level-headed looking warrior.

     During the first part of the fight, Hector and Ike had been evenly matched.  When Hector had scored the first hit, the crowd had roared.  Soren, watching this, had to use all of his will to restrain himself from casting Arc-Fire at the blue-armored knight.  Yet, despite the wound, Ike had come back at him with the same vigor as before, and returned the blow threefold.  Trading blow for blow, the two were now bloodied, with red staining the dust beneath each of them.  Hector’s breathing was labored, and his body felt heavy.  He wasn’t near death, no.  Simply worn out from all the fighting.

     Ike, at this point, was still in his stance.  It was an odd stance, normally used by beginner Myrmidons.  The stance was very open, and made the various weaknesses of itself known.  There were several small differences between the Hero of Blue Flames’ stance and the beginner’s stance, however.  The blade was held differently, angled out and off to the side in one hand.  Next, his leg spacing was slightly smaller, and firmer placement of his boots indicated a strong stance, not easily knocked off-balance.  Lastly, his left arm was on his hip, and placed ahead of his body, and his right hand’s grip on the blade was loose, and almost relaxed.  Its sheer oddity made the blue-armored knight wonder in amazement how he could even fight like that.

     Hiding his own fatigue, Ike’s wounds dripped blood heavily.  His chest was heaving to keep up with needed air intake, and his muscles ached.  He could feel the searing pain of the torn flesh on his left arm, the few nicks and one good strike he’d taken to the legs, plus a set of bad hits to the chest and sides.  He couldn’t keep this up much longer.  And, from what he could tell, neither could Hector.  Spinning the blade in his hand, Ike said, “One blow?”

     Hector’s blood dripped slowly from his deep wounds.  He had a long wound along his chest, where Ike’s old Regal Blade had torn open his flesh.  Not to mention, a few strikes along his back, as Ike’s higher mobility, due to a lack of heavier armor, had allowed for him to avoid a few strikes and catch the back of the warrior.  His legs also dripped with blood running from slashes.  The most serious, however, was the stabbing through his left arm, which made it slightly harder to swing his axe, Armads, effectively.  “Sure…  Why not?”  With that, he twirled his axe in his strong hand.

     Sliding his foot back, Hector’s hands wrapped firmly around Armads’ shaft.  He took one of his older stances, and prepared to do a strike he’d not done in some time.  He focused on his opponent and waited.  The wind blew past him, to his right, picking his dark blue cape up, and making it flutter in the breeze, giving him that knightly look.  The entirety of the crowd was completely silent.  Florina’s eyes were glistening, moist from tears of fear.  Her heart was in her throat.  Lyndis did her best to comfort her, holding her delicate hand, but there wasn’t much else she could do.  

     Ike, stepping one foot back, brought his free hand up, as if he were a spellcaster, ready to throw out some sort of magic.  The tension was palpable.  Soren was on his feet, his hands nearly breaking the staff’s wooden shaft.  He would never admit it to anyone, but he genuinely feared for Ike’s life.  If that axe landed wrong, the Hero of Blue Flames would die.  The winds blew past Ike, to his left, making his ancient red cape and tattered green bandana flutter in the breeze, giving him that heroic look.

     Suddenly, Hector moved.  He was on top of Ike in seconds, swinging the axe with all his might.  Soren cringed, but couldn’t stop watching.  His breath was held as Ike barely avoided the edge, flipping backwards.  Sliding to a stop, the Hero of Blue Flames leapt skyward, his sword held as he did four front flips in mid-air, coming down on the fourth flip.  As he brought the old Regal Sword down, Hector swung Armads up at it.

     The Regal Sword shattered like glass.  Hector, using this moment, brought his axe around for another swing, just to confirm his victory, when he saw Ike was right in front of him, the broken blade’s remnants at his throat.  He’d taken too long.  He saw he should’ve thrust the axe at the young man, which would’ve given a much shorter space of time for Ike to move.  With a smirk, Hector continued to hold Armads skyward.  Ike, also smirking, held the tip of the broken sword to the Lord’s throat.

     Then came the spear.  Ike saw the gleam of metal out of the corner of his eye, and instinctually fell backwards, to avoid it.  The flying metal shish kebab missed him by mere inches.  Falling back on his back, Ike’s gaze had already looked to where it had come from.  Hector, for his part, almost had a heart attack when he saw the spear nearly skewer Ike.  Stumbling slightly, Hector made sure to check if his foe wasn’t dead, glanced at the spear, and recognized it.  It was one he’d had made especially as a wedding present.  He then looked, and saw his beloved, standing to the opposite of the spear.

     Lyndis had lost track of Florina in the moments before the duo struck and the swordsman’s blade had shattered, and when she saw Ike fall backwards to avoid the thrown spear, and saw the small Pegasus Knight in the arena, she realized she’d snuck off to ensure her beloved’s safe return.  Ike, sitting on his ass, looked over at Florina, who had another spear ready, with tears in her eyes.  He recognized the look.  It reminded him of Mist when she fought alongside Boyd during a rough battle.

     Lowering his axe, Hector walked over to his beloved.  She realized what she’d done, and instantly began apologizing profusely, to both warriors.  Hector tried to calm her, but couldn’t, until Ike started laughing.  Hard.  The Lord looked to the Hero with bewilderment.  Most, in a near-death experience, would do anything but laugh.  Ike, however, was doing just that.  Standing, he said, “I think she doesn’t like me!”  She became flustered, trying to explain herself.  “No, no!  I-It isn’t like that, I just…!”

     Eventually, Hector calmed her, and escorted her out of the arena fighting area.  The crowd finally began to breathe again, talking and speculating.  Soren, as well, began to breathe once more, having nearly gone blue in the face.  Ike saw him, and chuckled.  “Jeez, Soren.  You okay?”  “…Shut up, Ike…  You could have been severely wounded.  Or killed…”  Placing his hand on top of Soren’s head, almost condescendingly, Ike said, “I’ll be fine…  This isn’t a life or death situation…  I wasn’t going to kill him, and he wasn’t going to kill me.  I wouldn’t have fought with my old sword if I wanted him dead…”

     Given an hour or so to recover and prepare for the next fight, with Lord Eliwood, Ike collected and placed the pieces of the Regal Sword in the preparation area.  Laying a long piece of fabric, the Hero of Blue Flames set the pieces in it carefully, and wrapped it all up.  He’d get it repaired, and reinforced, later.  Handing it to Soren for safekeeping, Ike bandaged his wounds, and let Soren heal all of the ones he could.  The staff ran out of power before all his wounds healed, but the deepest ones were gone.  Only a few nicks and one decent cut was left.  He’d have a few scars at best.

     As the hour and thirty minute mark arrived, Ike was called to the Arena Master’s chambers.  “Yeah?”  The man beckoned him in.  “I’ve got a proposition to make…  The people aren’t too keen on watching three fights in a row…  Not with one person against three…  They get antsy and all that…  So, we want you to fight Lady Lyndis and Lord Eliwood at the same time…”  Ike blinked.  “Uh…  That’s not too fair…  Do you think you’ve got any other ideas?”  The man scowled.  They sat for a few minutes, thinking, when, “Oh, I got it!”  Ike said, snapping his fingers, “What if I brought along my friend, Soren?  It’d be an even fight, and I know he’d agree!” It took the Arena Master only moments to decide.  “Sounds good to me…  The match’ll start at the same time as before...  I’ll let the crowd know”

     The crowd cheered in excitement as Lady Lyndis and Lord Eliwood walked into the arena.  She waved happily, proudly, as a contrast to Eliwood’s sedated and hesitant waving.  He felt so out of place in the spotlight, but he would bear with it.  Turning his head, Eliwood, with Lyndis following his gaze, watched as Ike walked into the arena, holding that massive blue blade.  What startled them was just how small the boy next to him looked.  They’d never seen the two just walking at a long distance before, but Ike towered over Soren.  Soren’s body looked so frail and petite.  It reminded Eliwood of Hector and Florina.  By his logic, that would mean that it was likely Soren that was the weak link, someone easier to focus on and get out of combat.  He looked to Lyndis, who seemed to silently agree with his assessment.  Defeat Soren, and Ike would fall quickly, disheartened and distracted.  Lyndis would handle the Silent Master of the Winds.  Eliwood would occupy the Hero of Blue Flames until Lyndis could join up with him.  As they stood opposite each other, Lyndis analyzed the mage once more.

     She recalled his post as a strategist, which likely meant he’d come up with contingency plans.  He would also know that Lyndis would target him, as Ike wouldn’t be able to keep up with her speed and deal with Eliwood’s raw power at the same time.  Yet, something seemed off.  The boy looked different.  Then she picked up on it.  He was carrying a small blade.  It was almost a rapier, similar to an estoc.  However, the hilt was a red cloth wrapped around silver, and a thin hilt guard, blue in coloration.  The blade itself glowed with a soft red, almost pink.  It was enchanted.  With what, though?

     Ike presented Soren with Florete a few minutes before they stepped out.  The mage looked at the warrior with questioning eyes and frown.  “You said it yourself.  She’ll go after you…  Might as well have something to attack her at the same time…  Mist had another, and didn’t mind me taking it for you…  And I know Mia forced you to fight her with a sword once or twice…”  “Six separate times, and I also learned from your sister and Titania…  They both gave me lessons, so I didn’t get so bruised when I dealt with the dolt of a swordswoman…”  “Exactly…  And Mia isn’t a dolt…  She’s plenty smart-“ “Hn…” “-and you know some skills.  You’ll be okay, so long as you don’t get overwhelmed.  I won’t be able to help you much, so be careful, alright?  You worry about me a lot, but try to not get distracted…” “I don’t get distracted…” “Uh-huh…  Let’s go, Soren”

     Soren looked to Florete, a weapon that converted it’s wielder’s intelligence into magical blasts, and gave it no favorable, nor unfavorable, looks.  It was no wonder Ike couldn’t use Florete, though.  The thought made Soren smile.  For all his skill and power, Ike could be rather dense a lot of the time.  Shaking his head clear, he focused on the fight about to begin.  With Ettard resting on his shoulder, Ike said, “This is gonna be fun!”  Soren said nothing, but pulled Florete from its scabbard, opening his tome of Wind spells at the same time.

     Patting her bow, Lyndis drew the Sol Katti from its sheath, and twirled it about her.  It gleamed brightly in the afternoon sunlight, its paper-thin edge twinkling.  Her quiver sat ready at the small of her back, filled with iron-tipped arrows, shaped for shallow wounds, but barbed to tear flesh if the foe she faced pulled them out.  Eliwood, glancing at her dexterous movements, felt a bit sheepish as he drew Durandal from the clasps what kept it on his back, and let its weight bring it to the dirt with a satisfying thud.  Dragging it back, he lifted it up, and set it on tip.  “…Be careful, Lyn…”  She smiled.  “I know…”

     Once more, the wind picked up, and drew across the arena, picking up loose clothing, giving each combatant a different look.  Ike, with his tattered bandana and now slightly torn cape, looked like a ragged hero from a time long past.  Soren, with his finely maintained robes, looked like a legendary Sage possessing knowledge forbidden.  Lyndis, her robes fluttering gently, looked to be a deadly beauty, ready to lower the guard of any romantic, and then cut them down.  And Eliwood, now looking determined, had the look of a lordly guardian, prepared to strike down those who threatened what he treasured.

     With a deft movement, Soren slipped almost behind Ike, and began chanting a spell.  At the same time, Lyndis slipped behind Eliwood as he charged, sheathing her blade and pulling her bow at the same time, firing a volley of arrows, which Ike deflected.  And with that, the battle was underway.  Who might win?  The Hero and Silent Strategist, or the Lady of Caelin and Lord of Pherae…?
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