Updated Author's Note: Hello, everyone, and welcome to my newest and shortest episodal fan-fic. Even though I am new to this style of writing, I hope you enjoy it and find the story to your liking. Six chapters and an epilogue are expected to be posted, so please stick with me and review. Thank you for your time.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Fire Emblem, silly. I'm a writer, not a game developer.

Boomerang Chapter 1: Disquiet between Gemstones

To Glen, honour and trust were qualities which exceeded all else. The two people he loved more than any other were his brother Cormag and His Majesty the Emperor of Grado, but never did he imagine the possibility of one betraying his trust.

Eirika's party retreated into the mountains with haste, and the Sunstone fixed his steely eyes on them all the while, wondering if he was right to let them go and to question the emperor. It was true that Vigarde had been keeping many secrets from his advisors and generals, but would he lie about the slaughter of an entire town to the Imperial Three? It was almost betrayal to think along these lines, and yet, if everything Eirika and her princely friend said were true, he was the betrayed.

Glen grimaced and twirled to face his platoon of wyvern knights. One glance showed that they were waiting with patient earnest, seated in their specialised saddles without an anxious movement. At least they trust their superior, he chastised himself inwardly.

It wasn't long before flaps of distant sets of wyvern wings commanded his attention, and in the distance he saw another array of troops flying toward him. In the lead was a signature sight: a twisted half-breed of serpentine and draconic blood, and upon its back was an equally twisted man he wished erased from history.

"Valter . . ." he uttered under his breath, fists clenched from the thought of seeing his opposite's face. "It figures he would show."

He hastened toward his companion mount and hoped his fellow general would fly overhead, but Valter swooped low to meet him. The gusts of the half-breed mount carried the stench of rotting flesh within its rows of teeth.

"Where do you think you are going, Glen?" Valter hailed over the distance. Glen's skin crawled every time he heard his unctuous tone, and this was no different.

"Valter . . ." he uttered again upon reaching the saddle, hoping the venom in his tone was discredited as effort to seat himself.

"What am I supposed to make of this?" Valter continued with a gingival click. "Those little birds I saw flitting away to the mountains looked vaguely familiar. What do you suppose would happen if it were known you let Eirika escape?"

"Do as you will. I'm returning to the capital," Glen countered. "I have urgent questions for the emperor, so clear the path, Valter."

"Whoa, hold on now. No reason to rush off, is there? After all, this is where you're going to die, see?"

Glen's hand instinctively drew closer to the blade at his hip, wondering whether this threat was idle or a sign of things to come. Valter was as unctuous and sly as a gorgon, so there was no telling what his mind was concocting.

"What are you babbling about? What lunacy are you imagining?" he demanded.

Valter laughed lightly and cocked his head, voicing: "We were a grand trio—the Imperial Three: you, Duessel, and me. But my place among you was stolen, and I was exiled from Grado."

"This again? Fine. You slaughtered people who had no intention of fighting. The emperor's punishment was just and warranted. Now let's end this debate before it begins afresh."

"Why, it's not a debate at all!" clucked Valter. "It's just that, after my fall from glory, only desire kept me alive. Desire for revenge. My hatred burned so fierce that I was only barely able to safeguard my sanity. That hatred keeps me warm still today. Oh, how it burns. . . ."

Glen swallowed hard, hand clenched on his silver broadsword and pulling it halfway from its sheath. Valter was definitely picking a fight, and he wondered which of their mounts would win if pitted against each other. Kaczo was indeed powerful, perhaps the best wyvern within Grado, but what terrible tricks did the creature at Valter's heels hide within its mixed lineage?

"Hear me, Glen, or should I say 'Wyvern General of the Imperial Three?' I live for battle. I crave it and have no need for peace. That is why you must die!"

The serpent hybrid frenzily uplifted with a single sweep of its wings, accounting a height equivalent to six men. Glen gritted his teeth and commanded his wyvern to do a similar movement with his heels, only to result in half such a height. Valter had a wing advantage, sure enough, but that evidently wasn't all when he spotted the fell creature's rider pulling a long-handled corseque from beneath the creature's wing. With a second lift, his opponent rushed toward him with a downward diagonal slash.

Glen was only barely able to maneuver his wyvern away and parry the spear, but his mind filled with new fears. The enemy mount was not only stronger, but faster and more agile than his. Also, Valter also aimed a crippling strike for Kaczo's wing with a much longer weapon. An attack on unequal grounds, strengthening his advantages to the max—that was what Valter planned, and Glen would not have him succeed.

"Cur! You are as mad as you are dishonourable!" he shouted over the wind, having Kaczo climb higher into the sky.

"Tut tut, it's a battle between generals! Sends the spirits soaring, eh?" Valter commented dryly as he rose high above Glen a second time. "Come, Glen! Entertain me!"

A second parry followed another spear thrust, but blood was still spilt. Glen's upper shoulder was ripped open from one of the angled blades, and the grip on his broadsword lessened.

"Curses . . ." Glen uttered through gritted teeth, surveying the damage. His crimson armour took much of the brunt and prevented bone damage, but the size of the wound was worrisome. Should the battle continue for long, his sword arm would falter and he would lose his life. "I won't let that happen," he rumbled. "Let's lecture these mongrels!"

The wyvern bellowed pleasedly and dove toward the foul serpent with half-spread wings, Glen preparing a swing for the right moment all the while.

One hundred wings. Eighty wings. Fifty wings. Ten. As Kaczo swung in front of her distant relation, Glen sliced his sword down toward the serpent's neck, only to miss by a slippery dodge which distanced the two by a wingspan. With chafed nerves, Glen climbed higher once more, and once again Valter swooped from afar.

"Now, Kaczo!" he yelled.

The wyvern swung rightwardly, evading the spear's arcing blow by minimum distance.

It was a game of cat-and-mouse, each rider bringing down his weapon and changing tactics without success. Minutes ground into each other like pestle ingredients, and the lower-ranked riders of either general watched dismally from the ground as the two fought fiercely in the azure skies.

Glen groaned through fatigue and blood loss, his arm losing sensitivity and nearly his sword as well. Weakness took strength's place as his shoulder's limit approached.

"I don't know how many I have left in me, Kaczo . . ." he said when the pair summited from a swoop. "If I die in these airs, give my little brother and Genarog my full . . . urgh . . . apologies, all right?"

The wyvern snarled as if demanding an explanation, scolding him with her gaze. Valter coldly took advantage of the moment. One fell swoop was made, and the corseque was bloodied a second time that day.

Wyvern and rider cried out at the same time, cut by the same swing, and the pain in Glen's side burned its way to the rest of his body like an insatiable fire. He closed his eyes to fight back the anguish, yet, as he did so, he felt his fingers loosen from the reins and feet slip from the stirrups. Within seconds he was slaved to the air, thrust earthward by the eddies of his mount and the passing winds.

Air sped past his ears like banshees of old wives' tales. The pain slowly died as the armour chilled his flesh, and he deemed that it would not be long before his body impaled the ground.

"Brother . . ." he articulated, unable to hear himself through the whistling in his ears, "I have failed you. Live for the both of us. Trust . . . your own . . ."

Kaczo's nearing screeches beckoned him from his testimony, and he opened his eyes at last. She dove beautifully, scales glistening like diamonds in his tear-strewn eyes and the golden sun. Glen reached upward with his uninjured hand in full hope she would snare him before the Underworld swallowed him whole.

She managed to swing under him, yet there was not enough time for the two to recover. The Sunstone's vision lapsed into a speedy darkness, but not before he elicited a final curse from his dying heart: Valter, you'll pay with your life in the end, slowly and without relish of past deeds.