Song of the Sacae
Rath/Lyn pairing
Chapter 1: The Calling of the Sacae
In the shadows of the rising sun, a great Arabian horse galloped across the plains, making mere leagues perish beneath its stride. As each lenth of grass disappeared under its thundering hooves, a great column of dust and freshly trampled grass flew up in its wake. Giving a great neigh, the horse continued onward toward the northeast direction with the wind blowing behind it. The powerful muscles churned about the Arabian's body with sweat and dirt stuck fast to it. It then finally stopped at the call of its master, stopping for the stallion to recover from its morning gallop.
On its back was its master, a young man with a piece of bright and colorful cloth bound about his head. Strapped across his back was his trustly bow he recently acquired, the Rienfletche. On his belt was his similarly trusty Silver Sword, yet it was not of similar fame. As the sun slowly shedded its light upon the awakening continent of Elibe, the familiar scar on his face revealed the young man to be one of great fame.
It was Rath, the heir to reins of the Kutolah tribe.
As Rath leaped off the back with skill and experience of many years behind him, the young Nomad quickly pulled a great container of water from a pack on the stallion along with a bowl of the same immensity. He dropped the bowl on the still wet dew-covered grass and pulled out the cork. Rath began to fill the bowl up to the brim with water. The stallion looked eagerly as the crystal clear water splashed every so often over the edges of the bowl, his long tongue hanging loose at the plethora of rare and delightful water.
Finally, the bowl was full and the master corked the container of water and rested it against a rock. Giving a slight glance at his mount, the stallion quickly took several steps toward the bowl and began to drink.
Looking at his surroundings, Rath sighed. His head slowly bent forward and he slowly sat down on a nearby rock. His right hand strayed upwards to his cloth bound hair and slowly tugged it loose. The cloth fell off and floated onto the ground beside the rock, all lonely and wishing for company. Rath shut his eyes and began to rub the area around his eyes, wishing for comfort and the prospect of sleep.
It had been merely hours ago since he had just left the Company that saved the world from Nergal's vile plans. It took the combined forces of the might of the heroes of the long bygone past and the strength and will of the young Lords of Lycia to take down Nergal and his legions of Morphs. But their strength was not all it took to take the Dark Druid down.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
The strength of Armands, wielded by Lord Hector was the first to strike, forcing the great Flame Dragon to loose a great amount of blood. The legendary axe bit deeply into the creature's flank, leaving a great gash.
The skill of Durandal, wielded by Lord Eliwood was the next to bury itself into the foreign invader's flesh, causing the Dragon to become further incapitated. This blade also bit deeply, but caused greater damage as its ancient magics worked themselves against the dragon's power.
Then came the power of Forblaze, wielded by the Archsage Athos, forced the Flame Dragon to back down against a stronger source of fire. The tome of the Archsage worked furiously, supplying fire stronger than that of the dragon's of flame itself.
The force of Aureola, wielded by Lucius the Bishop, forced the Dragon back toward its domain and gave all the heroes a quick breather. The pure brightness of the tome of light blinded the Dragon, granting everyone a second attack.
While Lucius was holding his own against the Dragon, Fiora led her sisters to attack the beast of flame with her long and shining Rex Hasta spinning over her head. Three swift blows pierced through the scaly armor of the Flame Dragon, forcing it to rear back in pain.
But the Flame Dragon still struggled to fight to the death. It had spat enough flame to scorch the earth at least twice over but one swift blow from the Sol Katti halted the Dragon's long and over-stretched range of firepower. As the Lady Lyndis spun about the neck of the great beast, Rath had sighted his target.
The Dragon's open maw.
All it took was one shot from his Rienfletche bow to end the creature's life. That legendary bow had sent an arrow of pure speed through the beast's neck, piercing through the bottom of it's giant maw, striking the brain. The Dragon gave one last howl of anger and defeat and struck up one last firestorm which swept through the entire company.
Almost all the magic wielders brushed the wave of fire aside as if it were an wrinkle on their shoulder. But the rest were sheltered beneath a great dome erected by the Archsage Athos and the Mage General Pent. Almost everyone had managed to get into the shelter of magic.
All except two.
"Lady Lyndis!" Kent had yelled once he realized his charge didn't make it. "Where are you?"
Athos began to buckle beneath the weight of the firestorm. With a heavy grunt, the ancient sage looked at his only pupil.
"Looks like you'd best hold the rest of this dome up, Pent," he said as a droplet of sweat coursed down his nose. "I think... the end is near for me..." Pent nodded his head and put more of his magical energies into the shield.
Kent continued to run and search frantically about the interior fo the dome, yelling and tripping over equipment dropped by those who got inside.
"Lady Lyndis!" the Crimson Shield continued to dither, his blood drenched Silver Sword unsheathed in his hands. "Lady Lyndis!"
As Kent continued to dash about, his hopes of finding his charge were quickly fading. But at the same time, a certain Swordmaster with a bandanna around his head was also running around, searching for an missing ally.
"Rath!" Guy hollered with his own blood-stained Silver Sword out. "Rath of the Kutolah! Do you hear me?" His boot treaded and snapped a bow that was cast aside. He swiftly knelt down and immediately recognized the owner's mark on the bow. His eyes widened and Guy got up quickly.
"He's out there!" Guy yelled at the nearest person, Vaida the Wyvern General. "Rath the Nomad Trooper is still out there!" Vaida gave a snear of contempt, causing Guy to step back in fear.
"Does it look like I give a damn about that Nomad?" Vaida spat as she shoved Guy away from her. She yanked out her Silver Sword and swung it menacingly. "Get away from me you worthless worm of the Sacae." She stormed off and Guy looked helplessly about. A certain clanking noise was heard several feet away and Guy immediately recognized who it was.
"General Wallace! Thank Father Sky you're still in battle armor!" said Guy as he clung onto the shoulder plate of the Knight General. Lifting his visor up, Wallace looked sternly at the smaller Swordmaster.
"I dare say, Guy, when's the last time you've really had a meal? You look like a stick compared to the recruits I once trained." Looking up at the dome surrounded by fire, Wallace gave a low whistle. "The last time I saw this was when I played with fire. Oh well, I don't suppose you know-" Looking back down at his shoulder plate, Wallace gave a sigh. Guy had quickly disappeared and was heard screeching for help.
"Ah well, young folks these days. They don't even have time to hear an experienced veteran and their past victories. Oh well..."
`
`
~~~~~
`
`
When the Flame Dragon let loose a firestorm, Rath immediately rode for the nearest cover. Taking shelter in a fissure that was wide enough to accomodate his horse within the walls, Rath quickly took a quick look outside of his shelter.
A great dome of pure magic was erected quickly a distance away, glimmering and shimmering as each bolt of the firestorm struck the barrier. A great wave of fire would slam itself against the barrier, causing great clashes of light which blinded Rath momentarily.
Knowing his excellent vision would be ruined by staring too long at the lights, Rath began to scan the rest of the battlefield. Bodies laid about the area, slowing being fried crisp. Several were still moving, just barely. The Kutolah tribeman pulled out his Silver Sword, ready to grant any of the still living a quicker way to their final destination.
Stepping out from the safety of the crack in the wall, Rath edged slowly toward the closest still moving body. As he came closer to the soot covered form, a glimmer of green hair moved, just barely several feet away from where the limbs were still moving. Dropping his sword in surprise, Rath immediately ran to the body's side.
"Lyndis!" he cried as he knelt next to her. "Are you alright? Speak to me, please!" When she made no response, Rath tried to resuscitate her.
Rolling her petite form was easy enough but once Rath saw her beautiful face covered in soot, the Nomad Trooper almost could not do so. Touching her, even if it meant saving her life, would be something that he's rather not do. Unlike most of the rest of the men in the company, Rath would much rather die than sleep with a woman who is not his wife.
But as much as he loath to stick with his morals, the call of keeping a fellow Sacaen alive is thumping louder than the drums of the Kutolah tribe. Bending his head over, he placed his ear on Lyn's chest. Yes, he knew his head was close to an area most men would kill to gaze upon but he had a duty to fulfill. Listening as hard as a person could with a great furnace roaring about them, he heard the faintest of heartbeats.
*thump-thump* *...* *thump-thump* *...* *thump...thump...* *...*
But they slowly faded away. Rath panicked and tried to collect himself.
"Now's not the time to panic, you fool!" he muttered to himself as he took several deep breathes. "Calm down!" When his bout of nerves went away as quickly as they came, Rath began his work.
With one finger, he swiftly checked if there was anything blocking her breathing. Swiping it through her mouth, Rath was satisfied that there wasn't anything in there. Tilting her head back so that she can breathe more clearly later, Rath steeled himself. The next part might make him think of dark and evil thoughts but to save an Sacaen, that is more important than being branded as a pervert.
Gently, he pinched Lyn's nose and placed his other hand at the tip of her chin. Parting her lips, Rath inhaled a deep breathe into his mouth, careful to not allow a single drop of his saliva to fall into her mouth. Leaning forward as he shut his eyes, Rath gave a long slow breathe out. Leaning back up, Rath noticed Lyn's chest rising up, a good sign that air was reaching her lungs. With more confidence, Rath gave another breathe of life to her.
After one more successive breathe, Rath grimaced as he knew what to do next. Pulling off his handkerchief, he bound it around his right hand. Wrapping it tightly, Rath hoped to the gods that he may never do this again. With his left hand over his tightly bound right, Rath placed both hands over the center of Lyn's chest. Pushing down with both elbows locked, Rath hoped that he would never feel more thna he needed.
Compressing her chest fifteen times, Rath quickly cast aside his handkerchief and sat back, disgusted. She was breathing, but in a shallow manner. As her chest rose and fell slowly, Rath slowly got up.
Was it right to touch a woman, even to save her life? Gods, what were the chances of him saving a woman's life by touching her.
Slapping his hands on his sides, Rath wished that he'd never touched Lyn to save her life. The stench of immorallity reeks on his hands. Frustrated by the torture of dishonoring his dignity, Rath began to walk away. But before he could, a great earth rendering noise erupted about them.
The quake tossed the small pieces of masonry on the ground about, several nearly striking him. As Rath began to move quickly, he noticed a great crack suddenly opening up. The fissure was moving fast. His eyes scanned the future targets and Rath cannot believe it again. The cracks would soon lead to Lyndis's inert form, ready to swallow her into the depths of the earth.
Another great seismic wave struck the earth, forcing Rath to lose his balance. As he stumbled, he heard Lyn moan. Getting up as quickly as he could, Rath gently picked Lyn up.
Yes, she was wounded in the struggle against the Dragon. Rath had feared that her injuried she sustained were all but the worst. Luckily, she had gotten away with a few scratches and one unbelievably shallow slash wound on her sword arm. It would take weeks or even months for that to heal.
As Rath carried his load carefully while running across temple floor being shattered by a seismic wave, Lyn slowly opened her eyes. While she was still pale in the face from slight blood loss, she was glad to be at least alive. Lyn's vision slowly focused and she soon realized who was saving her. No, it was not Eliwood. Nor was it Hector. But thank the gods that it was a fellow Sacaen that saved her.
When Rath finally reached the fissure within the temple walls where his horse was stored, Rath gently laid Lyn on the rocky ground and quickly went to his pack on his horse. Pulling out a woolen blanket, he wrapped Lyn in the Sacaen made fabric. While he was wrapping Lyn to prevent her from going into shock, he realized that her eyes were open.
They held each other with their own eyes, communicating in a way that most outsiders of the Sacae would never understand. As they continued to link eyes, Rath placed Lyn's amazingly soft hand within his own rough one. Not a word was needed to be exchanged as Lyn nodded her head knowingly.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
But what does Rath know about the true Lyn? Can it be that his heart fell for a girl of a different class than him? Sometimes, the Nomad Trooper wondered why the heavens have split the people of the earth to different social classes.
"Why? Why must she be of something better than me while here I am, sitting on a rock, sharing the same water that my horse drinks? Why?" Rath yelled at the clear Sacaen sky.
Nothing answered him. His horse looked at him in curiosity. It then resumed to eating the dew-covered grass. Simmering, Rath gripped his hands tightly until his knuckles became white, his fingernails digging into hsi palm. A familiar warm trickle then coursed from his hands, staining the rich green grass when his blood left his body to fall onto the earth.
Rath got up and kicked the rock he sat on. The force of his kick knocked the rock over, exposing the dark and wet underside of the rock and the pit it sat in. Bugs and other lowly creatures of the earth scrambled for cover, seeking shade against the rising sun.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
Lyndis had woken up with the sun, just like any other day since she began her long trek with an previously unknown tactician by the name of Mark. But unlike the other days since then, there was no joy in the morning no more.
That joy had left her. Today is the day when all of the company would say their good-byes to everyone else. Already several had begun to leave and there was one that had already left.
Rath of the Kutolah.
Here she was, sitting in her tent. Her family heirlooms, her Manni Katti and Sol Katti swords, and even her father's own set of bow and arrows. All that was dear to her was here. But one thing was missing from her collection.
As hard as she tried, Lyndis couldn't hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. A great pearly drop of salt mixed with water fell from eyes to land on her lap. The drop stained her nightgown, leaving a dark spot on her cotten night wear.
Standing up, she slowly approached the bow and arrow sets. Almost all of these were her fathers. Only one of them didn't belong to neither her father or Lyndis herself. Picking up the foreign bow, she gave an experiemental draw. The string reached back to her right cheek, barely giving her any strain. She then slowly placed the string back to its former position, not wanting to exhaust the string with dry shots.
Turning the ranged weapon in her hands, Lyndis found the familiar markings and etchings that showed who owned the weapon. Tracing the designs of a great wolf hunting on the plains, Lyndis felt another wave of sadness crash into her.
This short bow was given to her by Rath, just merely days ago.
`
`
"Lady Lyndis," Rath had said that day as he approached her with the bow in his arms. "I want you to have this."
"It's beautiful, Rath," she had said. "But it's yours, is it not?"
"Yes it is, milady," Rath replied. "But I have plenty more. That is just something that I made on my spare time. Perhaps you can add it to your collection."
"Thank you, but how did you find out?"
"A good friend of mine told me, milady. Consider this a gift from the Kutolah tribe to the Lorca tribe."
`
`
And now he was gone. Just like the wind of the Sacae. Just gone like the wind.
The Lady Lyndis, formerly of the Lorca tribe, collapsed onto the ground and broke down, sobbing for one who has left her.
***********************
Okay, this may seem unusual for me, the author, to say this but... WRITER'S BLOCK IS A PAIN!! I take one month off for vacation and I end up with only 1 new fic and barely any new chapters for everything else.
Yeesh!
Rath/Lyn pairing
Chapter 1: The Calling of the Sacae
In the shadows of the rising sun, a great Arabian horse galloped across the plains, making mere leagues perish beneath its stride. As each lenth of grass disappeared under its thundering hooves, a great column of dust and freshly trampled grass flew up in its wake. Giving a great neigh, the horse continued onward toward the northeast direction with the wind blowing behind it. The powerful muscles churned about the Arabian's body with sweat and dirt stuck fast to it. It then finally stopped at the call of its master, stopping for the stallion to recover from its morning gallop.
On its back was its master, a young man with a piece of bright and colorful cloth bound about his head. Strapped across his back was his trustly bow he recently acquired, the Rienfletche. On his belt was his similarly trusty Silver Sword, yet it was not of similar fame. As the sun slowly shedded its light upon the awakening continent of Elibe, the familiar scar on his face revealed the young man to be one of great fame.
It was Rath, the heir to reins of the Kutolah tribe.
As Rath leaped off the back with skill and experience of many years behind him, the young Nomad quickly pulled a great container of water from a pack on the stallion along with a bowl of the same immensity. He dropped the bowl on the still wet dew-covered grass and pulled out the cork. Rath began to fill the bowl up to the brim with water. The stallion looked eagerly as the crystal clear water splashed every so often over the edges of the bowl, his long tongue hanging loose at the plethora of rare and delightful water.
Finally, the bowl was full and the master corked the container of water and rested it against a rock. Giving a slight glance at his mount, the stallion quickly took several steps toward the bowl and began to drink.
Looking at his surroundings, Rath sighed. His head slowly bent forward and he slowly sat down on a nearby rock. His right hand strayed upwards to his cloth bound hair and slowly tugged it loose. The cloth fell off and floated onto the ground beside the rock, all lonely and wishing for company. Rath shut his eyes and began to rub the area around his eyes, wishing for comfort and the prospect of sleep.
It had been merely hours ago since he had just left the Company that saved the world from Nergal's vile plans. It took the combined forces of the might of the heroes of the long bygone past and the strength and will of the young Lords of Lycia to take down Nergal and his legions of Morphs. But their strength was not all it took to take the Dark Druid down.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
The strength of Armands, wielded by Lord Hector was the first to strike, forcing the great Flame Dragon to loose a great amount of blood. The legendary axe bit deeply into the creature's flank, leaving a great gash.
The skill of Durandal, wielded by Lord Eliwood was the next to bury itself into the foreign invader's flesh, causing the Dragon to become further incapitated. This blade also bit deeply, but caused greater damage as its ancient magics worked themselves against the dragon's power.
Then came the power of Forblaze, wielded by the Archsage Athos, forced the Flame Dragon to back down against a stronger source of fire. The tome of the Archsage worked furiously, supplying fire stronger than that of the dragon's of flame itself.
The force of Aureola, wielded by Lucius the Bishop, forced the Dragon back toward its domain and gave all the heroes a quick breather. The pure brightness of the tome of light blinded the Dragon, granting everyone a second attack.
While Lucius was holding his own against the Dragon, Fiora led her sisters to attack the beast of flame with her long and shining Rex Hasta spinning over her head. Three swift blows pierced through the scaly armor of the Flame Dragon, forcing it to rear back in pain.
But the Flame Dragon still struggled to fight to the death. It had spat enough flame to scorch the earth at least twice over but one swift blow from the Sol Katti halted the Dragon's long and over-stretched range of firepower. As the Lady Lyndis spun about the neck of the great beast, Rath had sighted his target.
The Dragon's open maw.
All it took was one shot from his Rienfletche bow to end the creature's life. That legendary bow had sent an arrow of pure speed through the beast's neck, piercing through the bottom of it's giant maw, striking the brain. The Dragon gave one last howl of anger and defeat and struck up one last firestorm which swept through the entire company.
Almost all the magic wielders brushed the wave of fire aside as if it were an wrinkle on their shoulder. But the rest were sheltered beneath a great dome erected by the Archsage Athos and the Mage General Pent. Almost everyone had managed to get into the shelter of magic.
All except two.
"Lady Lyndis!" Kent had yelled once he realized his charge didn't make it. "Where are you?"
Athos began to buckle beneath the weight of the firestorm. With a heavy grunt, the ancient sage looked at his only pupil.
"Looks like you'd best hold the rest of this dome up, Pent," he said as a droplet of sweat coursed down his nose. "I think... the end is near for me..." Pent nodded his head and put more of his magical energies into the shield.
Kent continued to run and search frantically about the interior fo the dome, yelling and tripping over equipment dropped by those who got inside.
"Lady Lyndis!" the Crimson Shield continued to dither, his blood drenched Silver Sword unsheathed in his hands. "Lady Lyndis!"
As Kent continued to dash about, his hopes of finding his charge were quickly fading. But at the same time, a certain Swordmaster with a bandanna around his head was also running around, searching for an missing ally.
"Rath!" Guy hollered with his own blood-stained Silver Sword out. "Rath of the Kutolah! Do you hear me?" His boot treaded and snapped a bow that was cast aside. He swiftly knelt down and immediately recognized the owner's mark on the bow. His eyes widened and Guy got up quickly.
"He's out there!" Guy yelled at the nearest person, Vaida the Wyvern General. "Rath the Nomad Trooper is still out there!" Vaida gave a snear of contempt, causing Guy to step back in fear.
"Does it look like I give a damn about that Nomad?" Vaida spat as she shoved Guy away from her. She yanked out her Silver Sword and swung it menacingly. "Get away from me you worthless worm of the Sacae." She stormed off and Guy looked helplessly about. A certain clanking noise was heard several feet away and Guy immediately recognized who it was.
"General Wallace! Thank Father Sky you're still in battle armor!" said Guy as he clung onto the shoulder plate of the Knight General. Lifting his visor up, Wallace looked sternly at the smaller Swordmaster.
"I dare say, Guy, when's the last time you've really had a meal? You look like a stick compared to the recruits I once trained." Looking up at the dome surrounded by fire, Wallace gave a low whistle. "The last time I saw this was when I played with fire. Oh well, I don't suppose you know-" Looking back down at his shoulder plate, Wallace gave a sigh. Guy had quickly disappeared and was heard screeching for help.
"Ah well, young folks these days. They don't even have time to hear an experienced veteran and their past victories. Oh well..."
`
`
~~~~~
`
`
When the Flame Dragon let loose a firestorm, Rath immediately rode for the nearest cover. Taking shelter in a fissure that was wide enough to accomodate his horse within the walls, Rath quickly took a quick look outside of his shelter.
A great dome of pure magic was erected quickly a distance away, glimmering and shimmering as each bolt of the firestorm struck the barrier. A great wave of fire would slam itself against the barrier, causing great clashes of light which blinded Rath momentarily.
Knowing his excellent vision would be ruined by staring too long at the lights, Rath began to scan the rest of the battlefield. Bodies laid about the area, slowing being fried crisp. Several were still moving, just barely. The Kutolah tribeman pulled out his Silver Sword, ready to grant any of the still living a quicker way to their final destination.
Stepping out from the safety of the crack in the wall, Rath edged slowly toward the closest still moving body. As he came closer to the soot covered form, a glimmer of green hair moved, just barely several feet away from where the limbs were still moving. Dropping his sword in surprise, Rath immediately ran to the body's side.
"Lyndis!" he cried as he knelt next to her. "Are you alright? Speak to me, please!" When she made no response, Rath tried to resuscitate her.
Rolling her petite form was easy enough but once Rath saw her beautiful face covered in soot, the Nomad Trooper almost could not do so. Touching her, even if it meant saving her life, would be something that he's rather not do. Unlike most of the rest of the men in the company, Rath would much rather die than sleep with a woman who is not his wife.
But as much as he loath to stick with his morals, the call of keeping a fellow Sacaen alive is thumping louder than the drums of the Kutolah tribe. Bending his head over, he placed his ear on Lyn's chest. Yes, he knew his head was close to an area most men would kill to gaze upon but he had a duty to fulfill. Listening as hard as a person could with a great furnace roaring about them, he heard the faintest of heartbeats.
*thump-thump* *...* *thump-thump* *...* *thump...thump...* *...*
But they slowly faded away. Rath panicked and tried to collect himself.
"Now's not the time to panic, you fool!" he muttered to himself as he took several deep breathes. "Calm down!" When his bout of nerves went away as quickly as they came, Rath began his work.
With one finger, he swiftly checked if there was anything blocking her breathing. Swiping it through her mouth, Rath was satisfied that there wasn't anything in there. Tilting her head back so that she can breathe more clearly later, Rath steeled himself. The next part might make him think of dark and evil thoughts but to save an Sacaen, that is more important than being branded as a pervert.
Gently, he pinched Lyn's nose and placed his other hand at the tip of her chin. Parting her lips, Rath inhaled a deep breathe into his mouth, careful to not allow a single drop of his saliva to fall into her mouth. Leaning forward as he shut his eyes, Rath gave a long slow breathe out. Leaning back up, Rath noticed Lyn's chest rising up, a good sign that air was reaching her lungs. With more confidence, Rath gave another breathe of life to her.
After one more successive breathe, Rath grimaced as he knew what to do next. Pulling off his handkerchief, he bound it around his right hand. Wrapping it tightly, Rath hoped to the gods that he may never do this again. With his left hand over his tightly bound right, Rath placed both hands over the center of Lyn's chest. Pushing down with both elbows locked, Rath hoped that he would never feel more thna he needed.
Compressing her chest fifteen times, Rath quickly cast aside his handkerchief and sat back, disgusted. She was breathing, but in a shallow manner. As her chest rose and fell slowly, Rath slowly got up.
Was it right to touch a woman, even to save her life? Gods, what were the chances of him saving a woman's life by touching her.
Slapping his hands on his sides, Rath wished that he'd never touched Lyn to save her life. The stench of immorallity reeks on his hands. Frustrated by the torture of dishonoring his dignity, Rath began to walk away. But before he could, a great earth rendering noise erupted about them.
The quake tossed the small pieces of masonry on the ground about, several nearly striking him. As Rath began to move quickly, he noticed a great crack suddenly opening up. The fissure was moving fast. His eyes scanned the future targets and Rath cannot believe it again. The cracks would soon lead to Lyndis's inert form, ready to swallow her into the depths of the earth.
Another great seismic wave struck the earth, forcing Rath to lose his balance. As he stumbled, he heard Lyn moan. Getting up as quickly as he could, Rath gently picked Lyn up.
Yes, she was wounded in the struggle against the Dragon. Rath had feared that her injuried she sustained were all but the worst. Luckily, she had gotten away with a few scratches and one unbelievably shallow slash wound on her sword arm. It would take weeks or even months for that to heal.
As Rath carried his load carefully while running across temple floor being shattered by a seismic wave, Lyn slowly opened her eyes. While she was still pale in the face from slight blood loss, she was glad to be at least alive. Lyn's vision slowly focused and she soon realized who was saving her. No, it was not Eliwood. Nor was it Hector. But thank the gods that it was a fellow Sacaen that saved her.
When Rath finally reached the fissure within the temple walls where his horse was stored, Rath gently laid Lyn on the rocky ground and quickly went to his pack on his horse. Pulling out a woolen blanket, he wrapped Lyn in the Sacaen made fabric. While he was wrapping Lyn to prevent her from going into shock, he realized that her eyes were open.
They held each other with their own eyes, communicating in a way that most outsiders of the Sacae would never understand. As they continued to link eyes, Rath placed Lyn's amazingly soft hand within his own rough one. Not a word was needed to be exchanged as Lyn nodded her head knowingly.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
But what does Rath know about the true Lyn? Can it be that his heart fell for a girl of a different class than him? Sometimes, the Nomad Trooper wondered why the heavens have split the people of the earth to different social classes.
"Why? Why must she be of something better than me while here I am, sitting on a rock, sharing the same water that my horse drinks? Why?" Rath yelled at the clear Sacaen sky.
Nothing answered him. His horse looked at him in curiosity. It then resumed to eating the dew-covered grass. Simmering, Rath gripped his hands tightly until his knuckles became white, his fingernails digging into hsi palm. A familiar warm trickle then coursed from his hands, staining the rich green grass when his blood left his body to fall onto the earth.
Rath got up and kicked the rock he sat on. The force of his kick knocked the rock over, exposing the dark and wet underside of the rock and the pit it sat in. Bugs and other lowly creatures of the earth scrambled for cover, seeking shade against the rising sun.
`
`
~~~~~~
`
`
Lyndis had woken up with the sun, just like any other day since she began her long trek with an previously unknown tactician by the name of Mark. But unlike the other days since then, there was no joy in the morning no more.
That joy had left her. Today is the day when all of the company would say their good-byes to everyone else. Already several had begun to leave and there was one that had already left.
Rath of the Kutolah.
Here she was, sitting in her tent. Her family heirlooms, her Manni Katti and Sol Katti swords, and even her father's own set of bow and arrows. All that was dear to her was here. But one thing was missing from her collection.
As hard as she tried, Lyndis couldn't hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes. A great pearly drop of salt mixed with water fell from eyes to land on her lap. The drop stained her nightgown, leaving a dark spot on her cotten night wear.
Standing up, she slowly approached the bow and arrow sets. Almost all of these were her fathers. Only one of them didn't belong to neither her father or Lyndis herself. Picking up the foreign bow, she gave an experiemental draw. The string reached back to her right cheek, barely giving her any strain. She then slowly placed the string back to its former position, not wanting to exhaust the string with dry shots.
Turning the ranged weapon in her hands, Lyndis found the familiar markings and etchings that showed who owned the weapon. Tracing the designs of a great wolf hunting on the plains, Lyndis felt another wave of sadness crash into her.
This short bow was given to her by Rath, just merely days ago.
`
`
"Lady Lyndis," Rath had said that day as he approached her with the bow in his arms. "I want you to have this."
"It's beautiful, Rath," she had said. "But it's yours, is it not?"
"Yes it is, milady," Rath replied. "But I have plenty more. That is just something that I made on my spare time. Perhaps you can add it to your collection."
"Thank you, but how did you find out?"
"A good friend of mine told me, milady. Consider this a gift from the Kutolah tribe to the Lorca tribe."
`
`
And now he was gone. Just like the wind of the Sacae. Just gone like the wind.
The Lady Lyndis, formerly of the Lorca tribe, collapsed onto the ground and broke down, sobbing for one who has left her.
***********************
Okay, this may seem unusual for me, the author, to say this but... WRITER'S BLOCK IS A PAIN!! I take one month off for vacation and I end up with only 1 new fic and barely any new chapters for everything else.
Yeesh!