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| − | [Avir] Avir runs. At first he seeks only distance; expecting the monster to chase him he slides down snow banks and crashes heedlessly through bushes. He collects a score of small scrapes on his hands and face, from running into branches. Panic keeps him fresh, but again and again he's sees Selza, the young Savage Bear tosses about like dolls. After a few minutes of his headlong retreat, it comes to him that the
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| − | [Avir] monster is not on his heels, and he stops, holding himself upright with the limb of a treebranch.
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| − | [ST] Avir has fled far, and fast, in his sickly state. He can no longer hear most of the sounds of battle, though the Tomescu's distant screaming is audible now and then as he runs, trees lashing at his face and hands. A chill, bitter wind howls around him as the darkness presses close.
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| − | [Avir] He pauses at length to peer into the gloomy woods. A feeling of wet warmth in his side alerts him to a re-opened wound, and he curses. He proceeds with more care after that, down frozen streams and under thick growths of trees where no snow is piled. Useless, he knew- as useless as it would be to stop to bind his wounds. His life was measured in hours now, whatever he did.
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| − | [ST] Somewhere behind Avir, the Tomescu's scream rises and rises before being suddenly choked off. It seems as clear a sign as any.
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| − | [ST] The Perronelle squirms against his flesh, uncomfortable with its feverish heat.
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| − | [Avir] Something heavy and many-limbed lands on his back, sharp legblades pressing against his neck. He almost screams, before he realizes it is the bottlebug. He half-laughs, warm breath rising to steam in the air in front of him. He would't be alone, even when it killed him.
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| − | [Avir] No point to delay. He opens up his shirt and presses his hand to the open wound in his side; his fingers come out wet and sticky with blood. Again he sees Selza before his eyes, eyes wide and shocked. He bends clumsily to his knees and begins to draw the circle on the white fresh snow.
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| − | [Avir] Closed, the circle is uneven and unsymmetrical. Avir wonders if that matters with ghosts. He paints runes at four points around the circle and begins the chant.
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| − | [Avir] He says the ghost's three names, three times.
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| − | [Avir] "Thunder Wisdom." Thunder Wisdom, Thunder Wisdom, master of the secret arts, hero of the Haslanti.
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| − | [Avir] "Murderer." Murderer- his hands steeped in the blood of the innocent; caressing the flesh of a demon.
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| − | [Avir] Avir swallows, memories rising unbidden. He sees the old man's face again, as he cuts into him, shouting himself hoarse with rage and betrayal. He hadn't even used the drugs he'd had at hand, to ease pain. He sees that old man again, bringing the clever little beggar's boy Avir into his house.
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| − | [Avir] Tasting bile, he forces out the last name, dread raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "Master."
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| − | [Avir] He waits in the cold encroaching dark. For a few moments, nothing happens. Wild fear knots tighter in his stomach. The only thing worse than it working- the ritual NOT working.
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| − | [ST] A ghostly flame appears in the circle, burning a pale, muted blue - the faintest spirit of the very idea of fire. It flickers and dances before Avir's eyes, but instead of bringing warmth, it draws it from him, spreading a deeper chill over the burns the Dragon King inflicted only hours before.
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| − | [ST] The flames flicker and coalesce into the form of a ghostly back, pale, wan, the knobs of the vertebrae visible. Then the form shifts again, and the wrinkles of a robe form over it. Thunder Wisdom stands in the circle. He still looks tall, and strong, but he is in every way diminished. The colors of his favorite robe are faded to pastels. His formerly clear skin has become transparent -
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| − | [ST] white teeth shine through his thin cheeks in places. His eyes are still piercing, but dark, hollow circles nestle beneath them.
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| − | [ST] A white scar circles his throat, plunging down to vanish under the robe. Avir remembers the extent of this wound.
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| − | [Avir] Gods. Avir's hands had rested on his knees. He clenchs them into fists. He should have stayed, he should have died rather than do this. "Took your time," he says, his snideness undermined by his shaking voice.
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| − | [ST] "Long have I wandered, son, over plains barren and shrieking with dead winds. Alone. It is not the way of our people to send their dead into the Underworld this way. No panopoly. No clean burning. That you, son, should dare to summon me..."
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| − | [ST] His voice is strangely, almost abnormally controlled, as if the rage in it is nothing but an affectation compared to what it was in life.
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| − | [ST] "Were I not bound by this circle, I would tear your heart out."
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| − | [Avir] "That's why it's there." Avir observes. He had nightmares like this. "I need you to carry an urgent message to Icehome."
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| − | [ST] "I smell them about you." Thunder Wisdom says. He seems in no particular hurry. "It seems my sins were not too great for you to emulate."
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| − | [Avir] "I don't murder innocent people," Avir says hotly, drawn into again in spite of himself. "I don't buy from the least reputable brothels and strangle people for power- I don't-" he swallows hard. "This is not why I summoned you, dead man."
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| − | [ST] "Have you killed the woman yet? The sullen one?" The spirit smiles tightly. "But very well. Why have you summoned me? What message have you for Icehome?"
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| − | [Avir] "Magdala. The wolf queen. She's alive. She has gathered a hoarde in the crag, and will lead them against Icehome. Fella and Shanarinara are her allies, she's been using flying Dragon Kings to keep airships from spying them out."
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| − | [Avir] Avir's eyes burn into the ghost. "If you don't tell the League, they'll be caught totally unawares."
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| − | [ST] Thunder Wisdom blinks. He was always incapable of showing surprise in life - death has not changed him. His face betrays no emotion besides a slight lowering of his brows. He holds his hands behind his back. "This is dire news indeed, if it is not some trick. Yet not even you, I think, are cowardly and treacherous enough to do such a thing. Very well. Who would you have me warn? There are
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| − | [ST] few ears that will listen."
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| − | [Avir] "Athela Ironheart would listen." But was she influential enough? They had been friends. "Perhaps Nellens Ralinona- dammit." Clearly Avir had not spent enough time suckling at the tit of the powerful. "The Ears of the North- or- can't you ...shape dreams?"
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| − | [Avir] "Ironheart would listen," he repeats, "and she's clever enough to make her information seem to come from a credible source. Tell her I sent you." Avir smiles, almost cocky.
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| − | [ST] "Athela is a practical woman," Thunder Wisdom says, clearly mulling over the issue. "Not so practical she could accept my methods of protecting the League. If given information, she may act on it. But will she act fast enough? I suppose there is no speeding the process. I see you are still clever enough, for all your flaws. There are few other ways to get a message out of these mountains."
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| − | [Avir] Avir smiles bitterly. "If I knew one, I would use it," he agrees.
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| − | [ST] "I will deliver your message." Thunder Wisdom nods, resolving the matter within himself. He does not smile - he rarely did. Still, there is some measure of relish in his voice when he adds. "This is not the last time we shall see each other. Perhaps I shall speak to Athela of more than your anathema."
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| − | [Avir] "A useless revenge, to tarnish your reputation for nothing. I won't make it out of these mountains alive." Avir smiles, flashing white teeth. "But do please yourself, of course. Master Thunder Wisdom."
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| − | [Avir] Some measure of confidence returns with victory. Thunder Wisdom would carry the message, Icehome would be warned, and Avir...Avir need do nothing but live as long as he could.
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| − | [ST] "I always do, my son." Thunder Wisdom bows, flickering. "A word of advice, to save your life, or end it. Your blood will not go unnoticed by the howling creatures in these mountains. Already, a mass of them are stirring somewhere nearby. I would not have them deprive me." Another flicker, and he is gone. The ghostly flames vanish without a trace of smoke.
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| − | [Avir] Fear returns all at once. He may be doomed, but he didn't mean to die easily. "Right. Bug, time you started riding inside." He opens his mouth wide and the bug sqirms its way from his shoulders down his throat. The pain. God, the pain.
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| − | [Avir] He falls to his knees, choking, as limb by limb the bottle bug shimmies into his mouth and lodges itself in his stomach. It jabs him, and chirrups contentedly as it begins to mend the cuts it had made on its way to its new home.
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| − | [Avir] Avir thrashes, then slowly rises to his feet. He stomps out the circle- no need to tell the beastlings what he had done.
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| − | [Avir] He begins to move more easily as the bottle bug stitches him together. He's oddly conscious of its contentedness in its work.
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| − | [ST] A hand clamps over Avir's mouth from behind. A sharp blade presses against his throat. He is suddenly aware of warm breath on his neck, a presence behind him, pressing into him. He didn't even hear footsteps, didn't hear a branch break.
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| − | [ST] A voice hisses in his ear, soft and feminine. "I caught you."
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| − | [ST] The hand moves away from his mouth, still gripping his chin, giving him a chance to respond.
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| − | [Avir] She could gut him before he even touched his sword. "Why don't we say you didn't, give this game another chance?" Avir says, smiling into the darkness only because it was more dignified than screaming, or wetting himself.
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| − | [ST] "I could cut your heart out right here," the woman continues. There's something strange about her, some hesitation and wonder in her voice. "I could. Right now."
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| − | [Avir] "But you won't. Isn't that right? Isn't that why we're still talking?" Avir's heartrate slows down to something manageable. He could work with this...
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| − | [ST] "Mother said I'm supposed to hunt you," the voice continues. "This won't make much of a hunt. It's not a good story."
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| − | [Avir] "No. Won't impress your sisters, certainly."
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| − | [ST] "No. No. You're right. You're a smart little thing." The blade disappears from his throat, and the unseen woman pushes him a few steps forward. "I won't- I won't kill you just yet."
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| − | [Avir] Avir stumbles forward. "You know, I might be able to help you." He keeps his hands carefully away from his sword and cautiously turns to look at her.
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| − | [ST] The woman Avir looks at is more of a girl than anything else, in her late teens or early twenties. She is fairly short, with dark hair that hangs in complex braids on either side of her head. Beads clatter there. She wears the close-cut leathers and makeshift armor of a tribesperson, with a wolfskin cloak curled around her. A scarf obscures much of her lower face. Her eyes are a strange,
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| − | [ST] vibrant golden yellow.
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| − | [ST] "Now. How would a little thing help me?" She asks, putting a hand to her hip almost playfully. She holds a dagger in one small fist. An obsidian chopping sword perches on her hip, and she wears a bandoleer of bladed war boomerangs. She clearly came armed to hunt.
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| − | [Avir] "Well, it's like you said." Avir smiles at her a little gingerly. "I'm a clever man. I could help you come up with something to make the others respect you. Even your mother." He rubs the back of his neck gingerly where the wolfgirl's dagger had pricked against the peronelle. "And if you didn't like it, why, you could kill me any time you wanted." He grins at her with all the charm he can muster.
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| − | [Avir] Godblooded had a reputation for instability. He could use her, if the gods protected fools.
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| − | [ST] Avir cannot see the woman's smile beneath the scarf, but he can see from the way her eyes crinkle that she is smiling. "Keep talking, little thing."
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| − | [Avir] Avir moves cautiously to sit down on a stone sheltered under the overhang of a tree. "Why don't you tell me a little something about your mother and your sisters? So we can think of something that's sure to impress them."
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| − | [Avir] "My mother would have been pleased if I brought home a dozen breadrolls for a half-pence, but I'm sure that's not true of yours..."
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| − | [ST] She squats on the ground across from him, looking him over. "Nothing more simple than killing you, for the moment. My mother desires for me to be a great hunter." She pulls the scarf aside to scratch at her face, and frowns as snowflakes melt on her cheek. "The wolf does not talk to its prey."
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| − | [Avir] "The great hunters have less feeble game," Avir points out. "And wolves don't kill what they don't eat."
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| − | [ST] "I am supposed to eat your heart," she says, almost casually. "Though I can't take your shape, as mother can."
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| − | [Avir] "She wouldn't want my shape," Avir says in much the same tone. "Too many holes it." He thinks of the great wolf turning into Mirua- into Jek, and Selza, and the others. His stomach feels cramped. "Did she take the hearts of those others back there? Leave the least for you?"
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| − | [ST] "That was her intent. She left them alive, however. They fought bravely. I do not know what she will do with them now." The girl shrugs. "Eat them, maybe. Sacrifice them. Bed them. It is how she met my father."
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| − | [Avir] "What happened to him?"
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| − | [ST] "He died. In the last war against the Haslanti. The last battle. I was too young to be there. I stayed with the nurse-women of the tribe."
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| − | [Avir] Avir nods. "Your mother left you with them a lot, did she?"
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| − | [ST] "Yes. I was too young for the war. So was Onil. Most of my other sisters died."
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| − | [Avir] "How many do you have now?"
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| − | [ST] She looks at him. "You ask many questions, little thing." But then she breaks her gaze, looking down into the snow. "Two."
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| − | [Avir] The wolf-bitch always had three daughters, it seems. His fingers twitch. The others were alive. He had to free them somehow. Somehow...Supposing that Miruna wouldn't rather be the bedmate of the she-wolf. The grandiosity of such a fate would appeal to him, no doubt.
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| − | [Avir] "And they command portions of the tribe, aye?"
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| − | [ST] "Iri does, as the eldest. Onil is different. I command... well... nothing." She continues to look at the ground. "I am still a child in my mother's eyes." A moment later, those strange yellow eyes snap up to look at him. "I should not tell you such things. They will not matter when you are lying dead in the snow, your blood running down my chin."
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| − | [Avir] "If you kill me," Avir agrees. "But I don't think you will. What will you be then? Always the youngest. Always the least of your mother's children."
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| − | [ST] "The sparrow sings the sweetest song before it vanishes down the wolf's throat." Her gaze pierces him. "Tell me what you will offer."
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| − | [Avir] "Your sisters would be humiliated, wouldn't they, if the prisoners escaped." Avir's voice is sweet as honey. "You'd be the responsible one then, wouldn't you?"
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| − | [Avir] "Especially if you had just brought back a valuable prisoner of your own- one who knew of the League's new alliance."
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| − | [Avir] He was too pressed to be truly clever. Hopefully she wasn't all that sophisticated.
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| − | [ST] "New alliance?"
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| − | [Avir] Avir smiles. " I hope to buy my life with information...please, clever wolf, don't ask me to give it away."
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| − | [ST] She nods, a smile crossing her feature. "Well... it is daring. But you ask me to risk my mother's wrath for nothing. Do not get too clever, little thing. I will help you, if your secret be worthy."
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| − | [Avir] He nods. "It is."
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| − | [ST] "Then tell me."
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| − | [Avir] "I will tell you part of the secret: warstriders."
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| − | [Avir] He hesitates, observing the savagery of her appearance. "Great metal suits of armor- many times the height of a man," he adds.
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| − | [ST] Her brow furrows with uncertainty until Avir explains it. "Metal is expensive. Clumsy. We do not need it any longer."
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| − | [ST] "What would you have me do?"
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| − | [Avir] Good question. "Take me and put me with the other prisoners. When the escape comes, it will be your business to make your sister look a fool- but I will give you ample opportunity."
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| − | [ST] "Think carefully, little thing," the woman says. She rises, moving to stand over him. Though she is not tall, she still looms somehow, threatening. She is more than a mere mortal, if not a god herself.
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| − | [ST] She reaches down to cup his chin in her hand, turning his head this way and that. "Not an ugly thing. But my sisters are far more cruel than I. And our mother crueler than all of us put together. Would you really wish to be delivered into her keeping?"
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| − | [Avir] "No," Avir says sincerely. "Nevertheless. It seems that is where fate has put me."
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| − | [Avir] "You will not put me on the road to home, I think. And how could I help you there?"
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| − | [ST] "She will be harder on you, for you ran, and did not have the courage to face her." She strokes his cheek, almost absently. "She likes to scar pretty things. Are you sure? I would let you go, and eat the heart of an elk instead. I do not hunger for such things the way they do."
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| − | [Avir] He almost agrees. He pictures himself without eyes, without a nose, without teeth. He has seen such things. He has seen some who were veterans of the last Wolf War. He almost agrees, and wishes that he hadn't summoned Thunder Wisdom, or that it had failed- then it would be his duty to run.
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| − | [Avir] Cruelty or compassion, that made the offer? He smiles at her, fear beating like a butterfly in his ribcage. "I am sure. How would I help you, otherwise?"
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| − | [Avir] Miruna, Selza, Jek, Savage Bear Daughter, Obligatory Sunshine - even Little Adder and Ragged Red. He had his vices, but he would not abandon them while he knew they lived.
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| − | [ST] She tousles his hair gently. "A brave little thing. Or a foolish one. Don't think I believe helping me is your main goal. Will you stay, then, and die while the others escape? Do you think that will matter? My mother's armies will make the League bleed regardless."
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| − | [Avir] "Only a question of now or then, isn't it?" To say nothing of the small matter of the charge of infernalism likely waiting for him at home.
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| − | [ST] "Very well, little thing. Give me your hands, and I shall bind you, and take you to mother. And if you think to betray me to her, I will make her look kind."
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| − | [Avir] He gave her his hands, even as he wondered if her mother would be able to smell the demons on him- whether that would make her more or less friendly. "I would not be such a fool. But tell me- what is your name?"
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| − | [ST] She cinches his arms behind him tightly, binding them with several leather cords. The contortion is actually quite painful, and she takes no chances in securing him. She reaches out and slices his sword belt in two with one twist of her knife, relieving him of his weapon and his medical bag.
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| − | [ST] "I am called Luyu," she says. "The Young Wolf. Scream if you must." Then the knife stabs into his thigh, once, twice.
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| − | [Avir] He screams.
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| − | [ST] "We would not want to say you didn't struggle." She says softly, her free hand wrapping around his waist, holding him in place against her. "Would we?" She could kill him now, if she wished.
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| − | [Avir] "No," he agrees, pain stabbing through his leg. "No, we wouldn't." He stares into her bright yellow eyes.
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| − | [ST] "There," she says briskly, wiping the blade off on HIS clothes. The perronelle seethes quietly. "All done."
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| − | [Avir] "All done," he agrees somewhat weakly. "I- am going to move- slowly." Unless she made him move fast.
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| − | [ST] "Yes. Let us go. I fear you will regret this."
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| − | [Avir] He already did.
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| − | ----
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| − | [ST] Miruna returns to consciousness slowly, almost grudgingly. He is immediately aware of several factors - first, the welcoming weight of his armor is gone. Secondly, he is warm, and buried in something yielding, and soft. Third, he moves freely, and his wounds seem to have mended, but his mouth is heavy with the taste of blood. A leather ceiling pinwheels above his suddenly opened eyes,
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| − | [ST] flickering in the light of a flame burning nearby.
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| − | [Miruna] He shifts slowly, stretching his arms and running his tongue over his teeth, a quick exploratory check. He vaguely remembered dying. It was confusing him.
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| − | [ST] Blood has dried on Miruna's teeth, but despite a lingering ache, he seems fine. In fact, the wounds that he suffered before his "death" no longer pain him as they did.
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| − | [ST] "So you're awake." The voice comes from somewhere behind him.
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| − | [Miruna] He grunts in response, and sits up hesitantly, his unconscious telling him that he had to move carefully, that he was badly hurt, fighting a disorienting war with all of his senses.
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| − | [ST] A woman squats incongrouously at the edge of a small table across the room, her face pillowed between her knees. Her face is attractive enough, but harsh, and a long braid winds down her back. She is covered head to foot in a doeskin dress in which protective wards and runes have been carved. "Mother was wrong to let you lie free from the others."
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| − | [Miruna] He stares at her for a moment. "What?"
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| − | [ST] The woman raises a dark, saturnine eyebrow. "She's very impressed that you managed to wound her so sorely. She has a fondness for notable opponents." She blows out a puff of air, stirring a few dark strands of hair from her face. "I wouldn't take it to heart. She's much slower than she used to be, and if I have my way we'll be killing you anyway."
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| − | [Miruna] He narrows his eyes, "why?" Then memories leak through the muddle in his head, and he realizes exactly where he must be, and what must have healed him. He shivvers involuntarily - saved by Anathema, tainted by it.
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| − | [ST] "You are our enemy. And I am not noted for my mercy. It's a fool's crutch, and wins you nothing in the end."
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| − | [ST] She drums long fingers on her knees and narrows her eyes, as if appraising him. "You don't look that strong without your armor. What tribe did you steal that from, you Greenfielder filth?"
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| − | [Miruna] "My armor was a gift from my mother's family. I am not a thief." He had modified it himself, adding larger plates, of a steel that paint would adhere to, but the general principle remained. It had been a family-gift.
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| − | [ST] "Ah, so you are merely a whore of the Haslanti League, who has forgotten the faces of his forebears." She nods knowingly. "Most of you Corpse-men are. The others are worse."
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| − | [Miruna] "But we are of a mind. That beast should have left me to die with honor. If you kill me now, I can at least be spared watching you march on my home." He starts off angrily, but trails into despair. Not that he could let himself die, now. Duty. He had to try to escape, at least, to warn.
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| − | [Miruna] He spits at her, falling short although the principle of the thing remained. "The Haslanti League binds the tribes together. It is the rock our, their, independence rests on."
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| − | [ST] "You have no honor," she says it quietly and cooly, as if she is stating that the heavens are blue. She stirs herself from the edge of the table, stretching. "Were I to have my wish, I would tear your throat out now, for your insults and your idiocy. But mother has instructed me to do you no harm, and to tell her when you wake. I am glad to be quit of the job of watching you. Remain here
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| − | [ST] until she returns. You will not escape. Nor will your League, and all the tribes shall be better for it."
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| − | [ST] Without casting another glance, she strides away, exiting through the flaps of the aghar and letting in a momentary burst of chill air that almost causes the torch burning within the tent to gutter out.
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| − | [ST] In the moment that the flap is open, Miruna notes that it is still dark outside.
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| − | [Miruna] He bares his teeth at her, but too late, only at her back. Once she is gone, he stands up, moving quickly now, testing the limits of his body. He tears through the room, looking for anything that would be useful - skins to keep him warm, anything that could be used as a weapon.
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| − | [ST] Miruna's search turns up little - like most aghars, this one is sparsely furnished, and probably does not belong to Magdala herself. Aside from the furs on the floor, the small table on which the woman had been sitting, and a standing torch, the interior has been stripped of anything that he might find useful.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He pulls the largest floor fur from under the table, toppling it carelessly, and tears two half strips down either side of the narrower length, looping it over his head so that he could knot the makeshift ties around his neck, making a crude approximation of a cloak. They hadn't left him enough clothing for a trip through the mountains. At least not on foot without fire to warm and give away. This would have to do. He
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He grabs the stand-torch as a weapon. It was the closest there was.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He darts through the aghar's flap, striking his torch-pole to the right even as he looks for a guard on the exit's left. They surely has posted someone to keep him here. His chest felt tight, breath hard. A rage was building, and he was stoking it, to block out the hopelessness of it all, the accusation of his mind that he was trying to die, justifying ti with visions of escape.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Miruna's torch strikes the unfortunate put on guard outside the tent, cracking down the middle as it strikes him. Miruna is aware of him only as a flaming form, shrieking, hurling himself into the snow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Really? This again?" A woman's voice says from somewhere ahead. Snow drifts down, obscuring Miruna's view of her. "I suppose I must admire your tenacity."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He stares for a moment at the curtain of snow, trying to pick out the source. He shakes his head, growling gutterally. It made no difference. A shrieking, burning man would spread chaos. Her voice told him of her command. This woman would hamper any escape he might make. That made his choice easy. He charged towards the voice, waving the split pole in front of him, unsure of where preciusely she was.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The figure moves faster than Miruna would've ever thought possible, sliding out of the way of his strike with a throaty laugh. The figure's limbs seem to flicker, and Miruna's wrist suddenly goes numb, what's left of the torch spiralling away into the snow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Now," the woman says. "Shall we discuss this? I have an offer for you, and have already sacrificed much on your behalf."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Now that he is closer, Miruna can see her more clearly. She is tall, especially for a woman, standing well over six feet tall. Her body is heavily muscled yet lightly attired, as if the cold does not particularly bother her. He recognizes eyebrows similar to the woman in the tent, short, harshly cut brown hair. Most prominently, a long scar winds up the left side of the woman's face, old
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] and silvered.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/144/ex780.jpg
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He grabs at his wrist, the inhuman speed and complete defeat destroying his anger as surely as falling from the sky had destroyed their airship. LEaving the same wreckage in its wake, fear and loathing. "Yuo are that womans mother. So you are the thing that killed me earlier."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I did not kill you, nor your companions, though I could have." She shrugs. "I appreciate a worthy opponent, even amongst my enemies. You most of all. You actually wounded me... temporarily, of course." Her eyes flash.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] "Not well enough then. Tell me your offer so that I can refuse it." Even he knows that his brave words front weakness. Humiliation. Another thing to put at the feet of the anathema.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You should be grateful for my quick-mending blood." Full lips stretch up into a smile. "It healed your wounds, after all." She walks past him through the snow, back to the aghar. "Come. We shall have this conversation privately. Don't bother making me chase you again, I tire of it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] She was right. There was nothing for it but to follow. He almost bolted anyway, to try and force her to kill him. But that would just fail as well, and reveal him more as a coward. So he strode behind her, trying not to walk without dignity.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Once the pair are back in the tent, the anathema seats herself casually on the table, gesturing for Miruna to take a seat as well. "My name precedes me, and my honor and wrath are well known," she says. "I am Magdala of the Twisted Hills People, Who Suckles Wolf and Man Alike, Who Piles Corpses in the Snow and Bounty on the Hearth. Who are you, then, little one, to stand against me, and wound
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] me through your bold insanity?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He sits across from her, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. Succeeding, almost. "I am Miruna, of the Haslanti, formerly of the Snow Bear tribe, The Painted Knight, champion of the Haslanti and guardian of its safety." He would match her pomp.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Miruna," she nods. "Your bravery is appreciated, however foolish a cause it champions. The Haslanti League does not protect its people - it merely coddles them, and strips them of that which makes them real, and true. In the name of progress, it conquers the tribes, and twists them to its will. It is no better than the Guild. It will be destroyed."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He curls his lips back. "The League protects them, keeping the south at bay. The tribes have freedom from our blood defending it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You have weakened them, not strengthened them. The coming war will prove that." She shakes her head, clearly already convinced. "The question of the moment is, what role will you play in that war? I offer you a place among my forces, and perhaps, if you are lucky, in my bed. Men have killed for far less."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] "Those men are worth less. You have my life in your hands. But not what is left of my honor. I will not be a traitor to my people."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Very well. I see your honor is as brittle as your bones. Remember that the decision was your own." She smiles at him, a trifle sadly. "I shall go without another daughter for a little while, then, and you shall share the fate of your companions."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] "When you kill me, draw your wretched blood out of my corpse." He stares across the table, waiting for his death, half hoping, half in fear, even now. At least then he would not see this tide run over the Haslanti.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I would not kill one so bold as yourself, Miruna." She says. Her eyes glimmer. "My people are not the wastrels you Greenfielders are. Come, let us meet your companions."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He sits for a moment, shocked despite himself, then follows numbly. To be alive again, again, it was an odd feeling. Giddy and desperate.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The cold, lashing wind has already numbed Avir's face by the time the camp of Magdala's followers stretches below him. His hands are bound into painful immobility behind his back, or at least appear to be. Below, it is the hour before dawn - many of the night fires have guttered out, and he can just see the dark smoke of the remaining ones against the brightening sky. Luyu prods him
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] along, insistent, but not overly rough.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Mother will demand to see you immediately," she says.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "I'm looking forward to it," he says sourly. He was near to losing his hands to frostbite, he was sure. He could chafe them a little, but he'd long since lost feeling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] THe scaffold where the Anathema appeared - was it only hours ago, truthfully? - is buzzing with activity. Avir hears the sound of sawing and hammering cutting through the night, overwhelming the lower buzz of drunken boasts and fistfights. Luyu nudges Avir forward, and they pass into the camp without comment, the guards on station there bowing their heads slightly as she passes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir keeps his head low, but glances left and right, trying to get some idea of the layout of the place.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] There's nothing very coherent about the place that Avir can see. It seems to be arranged in roughly concentric rings of aghars, with the scaffolding dominating the north side.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Guards are posted at the perimeter, but the camp is chaotic. Wolfmen and barbarians are intermingled. Dogs and children run though the dark, barking and laughing, and women and men are thickly intermingled. This is less a war camp than a moving nation.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Luyu leads Avir down the center of it, past drunken brawls, rutting barbarians, and guttering fires, to a great aghar in the center of the camp. It appears no finer than the others, but is much larger, supported on large poles driven deeply into the ground. Luyu shoves him through the flap without hesitation, following behind him.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A pit has been dug in the center of the large aghar, in which a fire flickers and burns, filling the space with warmth, and no small amount of smoke. Various furs are scattered about on the floor, and several figures recline amid them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Part of Avir is thinking strategically. Warriors and civilians so close together- the warriors would fight harder protect the civilians, but it slowed them down with empty mouths. And they'd surrender sooner if they feared their children skewered on spears otherwise. The other part of him is concentrating on controlling the fear. This was stupid. Stupid. The wolf bitch would never buy it.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir stiffens, almost pausing, until Luyu nudges him and he stumbles forward.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] A long-fingered man with a pale face and a long blond beard strums at a primitive harp. Several wolfmen sit around the perimeter of the tent, watching Avir with bright yellow eyes. Across the tent, a tall, statuesque woman with a scarred face is talking quietly to a younger woman, straight and hard as a steel blade in her doeskin dress.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Here and there, half-dressed figures wrap themselves more tightly in furs as the cold air enters, or continue snoring. Apparently not all the wolf-bitch's followers are early risers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir looks at them all warily, but at none too long.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "M-mother," Luyu says quietly. "I found this one. I captured it alive."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The scarred woman turns, holding up a hand to silence the woman she has been speaking with. She strides across the tent smoothly. "Did you, then, daughter?" She says, and Avir hears a dangerous edge in her voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "I- I want a bargain. I have information," Avir says, his voice trembling with credible fear.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Yes," Luyu begins, "I-" The sound of Magdala's blow is deafening. Blood hits Avir's face, and Luyu staggers to the floor, holding her own. Blood runs down her chin from a split lip, and tears stand unshed in her eyes.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I told you to kill him, not play with him," Magdala continues. She does not turn to face Avir. Blood drips from her fingers. "See? He tries to bargain. He thinks me one of his Guild whores, yes?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] What an evil thing. Avir wrestles down the guilt as he sees Luyu fall. "I think you a war leader. I- I have intelligence."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Doubtless you told my fool of a daughter the same thing," Magdala says, clouting the fallen Luyu about the head again, lighter this time. "And she was fool enough to believe it. Why should I believe your intelligence?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Because I want to live." Clarion sincerity here, at least. "If I lied to you, my end would only be more...painful than otherwise." A smile curls briefly on his lips. "Who would be fool enough to lie to an Anathema? "
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Who would be fool enough to face one in battle?" Magdala laughs shortly. "Not you, I suspect. I trust you were the summoner of those demons I faced. Poorly bound, and dangerous for a mortal. So I am faced with a dilemma. She rounds on him, leaving Luyu crouching miserably on the floor behind her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Are you a coward, a fool, or both?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Neither." Avir sets his teeth. "It's not cowardice to refuse to die- pointlessly. That business of fighting an anathema- as well plant yourself in front of an avalanche. It would be as fruitful."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Struggling for the purpose of honor is fruitful in itself. You fled, leaving your companions to die. Do you think they will welcome you?" She raises an eyebrow. "They still live, you know."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] A line appears between Avir's eyes. "Well, good for them."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I know your type, little man," Magdala says, reaching out to tilt his chin up. Blood smears his face. The strength in her fingers alone could crush his skull. "You're a bargainer, aren't you? Just like the Guild. You bargain with the infernal for power, and you bargain with me to save your worthless little life. Doubtless, you think yourself used to this business, to wading in deep water
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] though you cannot swim. Yes?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "I've made it this far." Fuck, fuck.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Through the idiocy of my daughter, no less. What did you offer her? Or did you just appeal to her soft heart? It will be the death of her," she says this last part more loudly, directing it to Luyu. "By my hand, if no other's."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "I gave her a word." Avir pauses. Magdala knew how ignorant her children were. "And told her what it meant. The same word I'll give you- if you spare my life."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Maybe he should've tried to convince Luyu to betray her mother outright. Godblooded were in enough demand, there was no reason for her to cower forever at the feet of her mother.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Magdala looks at him, appraising. Doubtless, she senses some deception there, but she only chuckles. "Very well. A bargain, then. You are a coward, and deserve to die. Your companions found the courage to face me, and will not. They are to be released, and to deliver a message from myself to the Haslanti League. For your information, I will allow you to share their fate. Otherwise, I will
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] kill you like the insect you are."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "It is generous of me. I am sure Luyu would tell me the word. Wouldn't you, daughter?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Yes," the voice comes from behind her. The woman across the chamber gives a short, barking laugh.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] How depressing. Maybe there had been less reason to confront Thunder Wisdom and risk exposure than he had previously believed. Though he supposed the ghost would reach the League long before he did. He bobs his head in a servile fashion. "That's fair. That's very fair."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Very well. Onil, take the guards and bring him to the others. I wish to consider discussing matters with Luyu."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "After," Magdala says, "I hear this... word."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] He thinks about the whispers of an alliance with Lookshy. He meets her eyes, and says "Warstriders."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Warstriders? Really?" She smiles. "Have you dug something out of the ice for that Dragonblooded whore to pilot? You cannot trust her, you know. Or perhaps you've found some outcaste, or some foolish godblood... it will not avail you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "I've told you, anyway." Avir says, not arguing with her. He wondered that she did not press for more. Perhaps it was better she did not; she might be inclined to keep him then.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "There is nothing more? You are certain? This is a poor price for your life."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "There's more," Avir admits, reluctantly. "The 'striders aren't what you'd call in hand. We're out here chasing a rumor, but a rumor from a dying woman clutching a sungold bolt in her hand."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "And where would that rumor lead you?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Northwest. The Cliffs of Insanity. I believe the savants suspected it came from some old tomb. The training mission was a cover for canvassing the area." A bit of a despondent laugh. "The Ears didn't want loose lips sinking the mission."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "The area will be watched. Now, you will go, and see how your companions feel about your betrayal." Magdala gives a short wave of her hand. Onil pads across the room, a pair of brawny, grey-furred wolfmen behind her, and pushes Avir roughly backwards.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "We go, now." She says. Magdala has already turned back to her other daughter.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "No need for them to know," Avir calls back, somewhat desperately, as he is shoved away.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The sun rises late over the Crag mountains, bringing light to the floor of the valley where much of Magdala's army is encamped. A ragged cheer is rising amongst the gathered onlookers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] On the scaffold, nine X's of wood have been hastily constructed. Four pair of them face each other, and on each of them one of the Once Dead is tied, hanging limply in their bonds. Jek faces Avir, Red faces Rabbit, Obligatory Sunshine faces Selza, and Little Adder faces Savage Bear-Daughter. Beyond them is Miruna, tied firmly, facing only out over the crowd.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Been in better... places... buddy..." Jek says weakly. His wounds, unike Miruna's, are very much intact.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] Miruna curses sourly at the cheerful noise, pulling against his bonds for the sake of it, although even he knew that nothing would come of it. She acted as if she had honor, and then made a spectacle of their deaths. Bitch.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] The bottlebug in Avir's stomach squirms in thwarted desire to mend. "You too?" he jokes weakly. He feared for his hands. He wondered just what kind of 'message' the wolf-bitch tended to send them home as. They would be the message, it was clear, or their mutilated bodies.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] The roaring peaks as Magdala and her daughters ascend the scaffold. Luyu is there, her face bruised and still stained with blood, and Onil, impeccable as other, and a third daughter, taller, broader, and stern of face, her hair shorn off close like her mother. Magdala is not in her wolf-form, but her yellow eyes gleam dangerously nonetheless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "SILENCE!" the woman roars, and the crowd quiets by fits and starts.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] She steps forward, and Luyu follows her, a silver knife in hand, walking slowly. As Magdala approaches, she begins to speak.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "My children... we have been assaulted by the servants of the Haslanti League, the very League that sleeps helplessly, never imagining our teeth are at its throat."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They are our enemies, and their society is without honor, but they fought, bravely. Where others could have run, they faced me, and lost, as they must. But we applaud their bravery, and recognize their sacrifice."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Thanks a lot," Ragged Red croaks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They will not be allowed to interfere with our plans. But they will not be killed. Instead, they will be released, to bear for us a message to the leaders of the Haslanti League."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] As she speaks, Magdala draws closer with every step. She stops beside Miruna, looking him up and down until Luyu arrives at her elbow.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He stops pulling at the ropes, hanging slack with amazement. She was going to let them live, make them run off to home with their tales between their legs? But at least they would bear with them the warnings. He steeled himself to the duty. He would not be loved for it, but it had to be enough.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You," she says to Miruna. "Will tell the Haslanti that even the boldest of heroes cannot stand against my might." She nods at Luyu, and the other woman steps forward. Her hand shakes, badly, but a glare from Magdala steels it. Miruna sees the knife flash before his eyes, and then a burning spreads in his unscarred cheek as the blade bites down.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He hisses at the pain, but holds his tongue beyond that. The beitch's women heard him, but the crowd did not get that satisfaction.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He holds his tongue, glaring at them, the knife so close under his eye that it blurred, taht he couldn't focus on it when he tried.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Magdala moves past Miruna without looking back, stopping between Obligatory Sunshine and Selza, who stare at each other with despairing eyes. She holds a hand up, and Onil moves to stand behind Selza, even as Luyu moves up behind Obligatory Sunshine.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Miruna can see Selza's throat jumping as her heart hammers.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You," Magdala says, "Will tell the League that this war is no one's fault but theirs. For too long, they have been deaf to the cries of the people." Knives flash, sawing through the cartilage of the captive's left ears. Onil cuts with speed and relish - Luyu's cut is clumsy and labored, and Obligatory Sunshine cries out in pain.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Fuck," Jek moans. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Blood steams in the cold morning air.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir's jaw tightens, reminded of nothing so much as a seals lunging at snowbird hatchlings.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You," Magdala begins, as she moves up between Little Adder and Savage Bear-Daughter. Her daughters follow, their hands and clothes already stained crimson.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] Miruna waits for them to finish their work, for them to mark them all, saving his breath. He would not let her have the last word at this ceremony. Not when he held the center stage.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Will tell the League that we are deaf now, also. That their screaming will avail them nothing, though it be long and loud. That their words are the grunting of beasts."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Little Adder recognizes what is about to happen first, and screams in terror, wetting himself in his fear. Savage Bear-Daughter only makes a noise when the silver knife takes her tongue, a high shriek that quickly becomes a gurgle. Adder makes a similar noise, and goes on making it as the trio moves on.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You will tell them that they were blind with arrogance," She tells Rabbit and Red. "And that wherever they look they shall see nothing but ruin, and that their next blindness will be the blindness of the dead." She nods again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Please," Rabbit begs, moaning. "Don't, don't, don't, PLEASE DON'T-"
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] Miruna glares helplessly as his men are hurt. But there is nothing to do about it now. Hopefully the messengers would be given care before being driven out to deliver their poisoned words to the Haslanti.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Red doesn't make a sound as Onil gouges out her left eye with the knife, twisting viciously. Rabbit thrashes, howls, tries to bite. Luyu's hand slips, and she nicks Rabbit's cheek, the bridge of her nose. Finally, Magdala's hand darts out in exasperation, holding the woman's head still. A shriek splits the air.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He watched, as he had to watch. They were his. Their capture may have been unavoidable, their maming not his decision. But it was his responsibility. Eyeless, they would be useless waste. The Once Dead would put them up somehow, errand boys or kitchen skulls, rather than killing them mercifully, as was proper, but their lives were ruined, and the fault was his.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Magdala steps on, leaving Red and Rabbit behind. Rabbit moans and sobs, her cries joining those of the already maimed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Magdala would die blind, deaf, and tongueless, Avir vows silently to himself as she approaches. He tries not to react as she approaches, but he does, of course:
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Having done so much to those she deemed brave, how would she treat the one she thought a coward?
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He couldn't help sighing with releaf as that at least was avoided. They might still die of the wounds - rot or just the body giving up after such greivous injuries. But at least they would not be reduced to blind beggars.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] By now, Luyu is splattered with gore. Avir can smell it as she steps up beside him, copper and death. Onil stands behind Jek, looking down at him dispassionately. He spits at her, and misses.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "And you, my little merchant," Magdala says to Avir. "Can tell your masters that we will not be bought. And that we will not be stopped. And that any hand of friendship they extend to us will be cut away."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] He would lose his hand. His horrified eyes follow the knife.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] In this, at least, he musn't be a coward. He meets the wolf-girl's eyes. "Do it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Avir feels the blade of the knife bite into his left wrist, splitting the skin but little else. Luyu is shaking again, her yellow eyes unreadable. Across the way, Jek is already screaming.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Luyu begins to saw, clumsily and haltingly. The pain crashes into Avir savagely.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] At first, he promises himself not to scream, biting down so hard on his lip he draws blood. His resolve lasts seconds. Then he screams, and screams. She hadn't the strength of muscle to do it quickly, nor was the blade near sharp enough.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Time seems to stretch out into an eternity.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I am sorry," Luyu says quietly. Her face does strange things as she cuts him. It's doubtful he even hears her quiet apology over his screams. "I told you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] They would be done soon now. His face was pale, humiliated that his comrades and subordinates had been treated so in front of him while they put him away with a scratch.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] And at last, there is a final, horrible parting, and appallingly, the solid sound of his severed hand striking the planks of the scaffold. The fingers twitch and writhe helplessly, and he feels the bottle bug thrash hopefully in his stomach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir sobs. His hand. Gods, how would he fight?
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "These things you will tell the Haslanti League," Magdala says, raising her voice to be heard over the moans and the screams rising behind her. "And may they be the last message the League hears as it topples into ruin, and may your chiefs know the depths of their sin and ignorance before they die."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Treat them with wine and fire," Magdala tells her daughters. "I will not have them die before their time." She turns to the mutilated rows of the Once Dead, and nods briefly at them. "You have my respect, as honored opponents. You have faced me well, and you have paid the price. Our business is done. Go now, and live your lives in what way seems best to you, but know this: if ever we meet
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] in battle, I will not hesitate to give you the death you so eagerly seek."
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] The last was done. It was time. He breathes in deep, to yell as loudly as he could. "Warriors! Dogs of the Bitch! We will deliver your messages but the Haslanti will not cower before you. We will meet you with steel, and destroy you." He is loud at least. The scar pulls at his mouth, dragging at the words, but his vopice had been trained for battle, as Magdala's was, and it was audible at least to the first few ma
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] The scar pulls at his mouth, dragging at the words, but his vopice had been trained for battle, as Magdala's was, and it was audible at least to the first few masses of her soldiers.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] At Miruna's shout, a ripple of unease stirs through the crowd, followed by loud jeers. Magdala only looks at him, appraising. "Perhaps you are right, Miruna of the Haslanti, formerly of the Snow Bear Tribe, the Painted Knight. Time shall tell, and should you win the victory, I assure you that you deserve it."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] She strides from the stage without further word.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Obligatory Sunshine, Little Adder, and Jek have passed out. Rabbit continues to scream herself hoarse. Ragged Red stares into space, gore weeping from her ruined eye, with the slightest of smiles on her face.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He glares after her for a long while. Eventually, the anger ebbed, replaced by exhaustion, and worry about the journey they were about to undertake. They had to reach home before the horde did, and give the Haslanti as much a margin as they could manage. It would not be easy, even if half of them weren't maimed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] From somewhere, tribespeople have brought two smoking braziers onto the scaffold. Onil and Luyu move towards them, and pull forth from the coals inside a pair of iron pokers, glowing white-hot.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir hangs slack from his bonds, exausted from screaming. His hand - no, his stump feels on fire. He promises himself he won't scream when Luyu sears the wound, and again he breaks his promises. He weeps a little, freely, as one with no more dignity to lose, but he reaches out and grabs her arm when she prepares to move away.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Leave her," he rasps.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I cannot," she says tightly. "She is my mother."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "But not your kind. I know something about that. Leave. She'll never respect what's strong in you."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "You do not understand. I-"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Enough, Luyu," Onil warns, as she mercilessly cauterizes Jek's wound.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] He screams louder than Avir did.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "What?"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Stop playing with your prey." the woman says. "Come, the others will bleed to death if we do not make haste."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Luyu casts a confused glance back at Avir, but moves on to Rabbit, who still moans unabated.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] And so, gradually and grudgingly, each of the Once Dead are treated for their wounds. Miruna even gets a small splash of wine over his wounded cheek. And then...
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| − | | |
| − | ----
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The wolfmen step back, holding spears up in warning at the Once Dead. There are over two dozen of them, more than enough to police this small batch of refugees. The Once Dead stand atop a rocky pass that winds northward and downward, perhaps out of the mountains, or deeper into them. None have succumbed to their wounds, but all have been damaged. Little Adder has been crying constantly since
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] he regained consciousness, a terrible sound made worse by his lack of tongue.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jek is utterly humorless for once, and Rabbit has not spoken a word since leaving the scaffold.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The Once Dead have been left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Their food, their armor, their weapons, Avir's stock of medicines and treatment, all have been claimed by the horde.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] Only Miruna still looks as he once did. The blood has been scrubbed from his painted armor.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The largest of the Wolfmen, his gray fur shot through with silver, moves to the front of the pack, and points downhill. "You," it growls. "Go."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] After a moment's afterthought, it reaches into its belt, pulls out an obsidian knife, and tosses it to Miruna.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] He catches it, glaring. "We will reach our home before you do. The Haslanti will be ready." He tries to hold confidence in his voice, to give the other Once Dead heart. Those that cared, anyway. Those that didn't would probably die on the way.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Going," Avir snaps back at the wolf. His mutiliated arm is inside his shirt. He wondered sometimes if he would rather have lost his tongue, or his eye. No doubt the others wondered the same, if they should envy him.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] He puts his back to the beastlings and sets off down the pass.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] "Lets go, then, yes?" He turns away. They had a lot of ground to cover, shelter to make, food to hunt. The logistics oif the journey stretched before him.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The others follow, glum and silent. A cold wind is already starting to blow.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] Miruna keeps them moving, encouraging them as much as he can. Jek was casting him venomous looks already. But he had to keep them moving, to gain on the army behind them, and told them as much. He tried to gather good throwing stones, and keep an eye out for game. But no animals were foolish enough to get anywhere near their tromping and grumbling troupe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] At least Jek manages to complain, with Red occasionally supporting them. The others seem too crushed down by the events that have occurred to muster much of a response.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir is pale. He struggles to keep up with the others, but his accumulation of wounds slows him down, and them, by extension. Avir whitens steadily as the afternoon wheres on, and amuses himself by speculating internally on when Ragged Red or Rabbit would first suggest abandoning him for the good of the others.
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| − | | |
| − | [Miruna] When night was getting near, he let them stop in a grassed over crevace, shielded somewhat from the wind. A few of them had enough energy to go with him to gather brush and deadwood for the night's fire. None of the eyeless or handless did. He could hear complaints rise behind him as soon as he crossed over the ridge.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir stops Savage Bear Daughter from following him. "Wait a moment," he says. "Sit down and..." talk, he almost says. "Sit down with me."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] The woman shrugs, gives Miruna a brief nod, and lowers herself to squat beside Avir. Across the expanse where a fire... well... hopefully WILL be, Red looks at them suspiciously.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir ignores her. "We need to establish a basis of communication. You've gotten by without speaking much, but -well, you could, then. I knew a mute once who talked with his hands." He glances at the others. "You pay attention too. We'll work out something based on the scouting protocols."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] She nods shortly. Of them all, she seems to have accepted the change the easiest, with the exception of Red. But then, Red was hardly human. With Obligatory and Selza helping Miruna gather, it is a rather morose gathering indeed.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Jek lies on his side on the cold ground, slightly curled up. Rabbit is watching Avir glumly.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] The scouting protocols were a series of basic tactical handsigns. The recruits likely didn't know them. They weren't learned so much as 'picked up.' Avir makes the first sign with his one hand. "This means shit. Stick out the thumb to make it a verb." He moves on to danger, noise, hungry, sky, and so on.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] She watches him, mimicking him lightly and easily. Some of them seem familiar to her, perhaps from a similar tribal language.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] She's better than Adder, certainly who is so sunk in despair he hardly watches. By the end of an hour or so, she's able to do a credible "Soldas is the offspring of a diseased whore" fairly credibly. Avir had invented 'whore' on the stop, so as to make the sentence possible.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Avir," Rabbit says suddenly. "Does... is it bad? I know Jek won't tell me the truth." Jek is sleeping, anyway.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Avir glances at her. He had actually managed to forget it a few minutes, while Savage Bear daughter and he were inventing a language together. "Yes. Of course it is."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I k-knew that, I guess." She says quietly, looking down into her clenched hands. "I guess I-"
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Stow your whining," Red says evenly. "Not like it makes you much worse. I'd worry more about ever hitting anything with a javelin again."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "Shut it yourself, Red," Avir returns. Rabbit wasn't his favorite person, but she didn't deserve what happened today. None of them did. "This happens. We're alive. We faced down an Anathema- or at least you did," he grins. "and you're alive. Wounded her. Don't let the bitch take that victory from you. Sure as the stars endure she'll remember the day the mortals wouldn't run.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "We've shoveled through a lot of shit in our time. This is just one more shovelfull." He bites his lip to keep from crying out when he inadvertently jars his stump, sending fresh pain shooting up his arm
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Keep talking like that and you'll inspire someone," Jek says, raising himself with difficulty. "Someone stupid, I mean. Fuck, it's cold. If we ever make it back, we're going to look so ragged ass they'll run screaming at the sight."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] Rabbit falls silent, but seems somewhat emboldened.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Yeah," Red says, looking at Avir. Her empty socket is full of scabby, seared meat. She hasn't even bothered to haphazardly cover it with a strip of cloth, like Rabbit. "I wonder what they'll think about those monsters we all saw."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I wonder where those came from."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "From you, Jek, they already do." He turns smiling to Ragged Red, slipping into a mask as easy as a wink. "I wonder?" he agrees readily. "I suppose we'll never know, though."
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Something the anathema awoke, maybe," Rabbit muses.
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "Don't be an idiot," Red says. "They fought the anathema. Almost like someone was... directing them."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] Either Rabbit was an idiot savant, and picking up on an explanation that would be easiest for everyone, or she really was that clueless. "You think so? Have experience in that line of work?" Avir's red earring winks at her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I've led monsters before," Red says. "They're not too hard to keep in line. And they followed orders better than you lot."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "They were only men, though."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "That so." Avir shifts so that his arms are crossed behind his head. "Well, we may as well include the creatures in our report. I don't see anything else to do about them."
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| − | | |
| − | [ST] "I guess I'll just have to keep my eyes open. See if I spot any more." The look she gives Avir is knowing.
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] "You do that," he agrees easily. "Let me know if you see any. Under a rock, perhaps."
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| − | | |
| − | [Avir] He prays the peronelle doesn't choose a particularly ill moment to open its eyes.
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