Private Tales Survival of the Fittest.

[Brandr]

It'd been years since Brandr had used even a kernel of his power, and doing so in such a way had torn the energy from his body so violently that he was lucky that his heart hadn't stopped entirely. It was like laying in bed for a decade then trying to sprint across a country. He slept so deeply that there was nothing but darkness, yet it was darkness that he was aware of, palpable and silent, an empty room that he could not wake from, like some sort of coma.

The female voice resonated in his ears like a distant echo, though rather than slowly growing more distant as echoes tended to do, it gradually grew louder and closer until the word was as loud in his ears as though she'd screamed it. His body jolted and his hand rose to shield his eyes, even the dimmest of late afternoon light bright in comparison to the inky black he'd been dragged to.

He let out a throaty grunt and his brow furrowed as he tried to force his gritty eyes to open for long enough to take in his surroundings and get his bearings. It was then that he remembered falling, that he remembered the No'rei, and he looked up at her, squinting in confusion.

"You're still here.." he stated observantly. Though why, he wasn't sure, and he hoped the statement would be enough to mark his curiosity on the matter. "How long have I been asleep?.." he asked, grimacing at his aching muscles as he pushed himself to sit up, a hand ruffling the sand from his greying hair and dragging down his face.

 

[Aeyliea]

"Still here," she agreed, though the thickness of the accent almost made it impossible to understand. She sat there, and stared at him with those implacable eyes - slate blue, like mountains just on the edge of the horizon, like storm clouds in the distance on a bright day. There was an intensity to them that made it impossible to ignore. Much unlike the obvious interest in her continued presence near him; that she ignored entirely. She should not have to explain the debt of honor she owed him. It should have been obvious, even the fact that it was grudgingly owed.

The second question was difficult for her. It took a long minute of thinking over the words he had spoken, delivered swiftly as was the wont of its native speakers. Her command of common was shaky at best. There had never been a reason to learn the coarse tongue of the Sundered, beyond the most basic of trading between the peddlers that ventured into the wilds. Those No'rei that left for the cities seldom returned, and the ones that did were often scarred in innumerable ways - often not physically. It created an ever increasing desire to cut ties with the world outside the Green Sea.

"Not know," she said at last. She pointed to the sun, and indicated the arc of its passage in the heavens equaling a quarter of a day. "So long?" She shrugged. Time was not something her people considered important. In the wild, there was all the time in the world.

"Here, not safe," she said after a moment, rising to stand. She made it about halfway up before the world swam before her and she staggered halfway to her feet, landing on on hand. For a moment, she stared - she could feel something that was not right, but could not understand it. The momentary waning of her strength faded, and she got to her feet after all. "Must leave. Ty'rath only hide so long. Ty'garth.. wipe? ...so much." She paused. "Stand?"

She did not want to, and it was clear she was hesitant to do as much, but she offered a hand. They could not stay here for too long; the magic that had obscured them from their pursuers was not infallible. Distance would provide more protection than magic ever would.

 

[Brandr]

He couldn't see the magic that surrounded them, but he could feel that familiar thrum, like a static in the air and he assumed the reason that he'd been allowed to rest for so long. He felt rested enough to continue, and though there was still a bone-deep weakness from the exertion, he was sure that it was nothing that would hinder him should the need arise to fight or flee.

His arms draped loosely over his knees whilst he listened to her, his brow furrowing in a silent study of the female now that his mind had woken enough and she was close enough to inspect. Their eyes clashed like storms, though were hers were fierce and vivid, his were cold and weary. He glanced toward the skies as she tried to explain the time that had passed, a hand kneading at the nape of his neck with a grunt of irritation at the dull throb in the back of his head. "Too long.." he muttered in response.

As she tried and failed to stand he held up a hand, frowning as it seemed that he hadn't been the only one who's magic had taken its toll. "Easy.." he rumbled, and as if in answer to a familiar command, his horse nudged at his shoulder and nibbled at his hair. "Not you." he snorted, patting at his nose as he watched the female in quiet contemplation.

"You hid us?.." he asked, and when the hand was offered he considered it. He had planned on going on alone, but whilst it seemed they were both still weakened by their labours and as he had no doubt in his mind that after the trail of Anirian soldiers they'd left in their wakes - they would be pursued, then it seemed the wise choice to stick together until more certain times.

Brandr was a sturdy fellow, and so as he took the offered hand he made sure not to settle much of his weight into it as he got to his feet. He let go of her hand with a short nod in thanks and took hold of the friesian's reins in the event that his legs chose not to hold him upright, though by pleasant surprise they held and he stretched and rolled his stiff muscles with a huff.

"Alright.. Lets get a little more distance between us and them, hm?.." he grumbled. Behind them, the spotted mare grazed, the sight of her causing a clash of rage and sorrow to fight for dominance deep in his chest. His jaw tightened, and he sighed as he approached the beast, taking her rein and offering it to the No'rei.

"Here. She's yours now. I don't have two arses." he beckoned insistently. "Her name is Dotty."

 

[Aeyliea]

She snorted at the first question he asked her. "The Seven, they hide us," she said. The tone of her voice made it sound the most obvious thing in the world, and by her lights it was. The Seven were, after all, the benefactors of the plains' people. "I...," she began, and then paused as she obviously struggled to express a concept she did not have the word for in common. "I...trade...with the Seven. For eyes not to see, nose not to smell," she managed at last.

She had to remind herself that the people outside the plains did not know the No'rei. They did not understand the customs and belief - they did not, in fact, even remember the Seven despite the fact that their distant ancestors had betrayed Tiam and Loriel, had slain the Moon in their greed all those thousands of years ago. They did not remember...but the Kindred did, of course. For all those thousands of years, they had waged a ceaseless war against the Sundered.

No historians that were known as such survived long enough to tell of the Sundering, or aught else. Brandr probably did not understand just how blessed and honored he was that she did not kill him out of hand, and leave his rotting carcass for the vultures.

The weariness was leaving her body, but she could not help but notice the strangeness that remained in its wake. Magic among her people was not as it was among most of the Sundered; the power she wielded was not her own, and was but borrowed. Beyond the similar risks that she and any other user of the arcane on Arethil faced, there were...other risks. Simply thinking on the risks made her shiver as though it were cold.

She blinked as the man offered her the reins of the mare. Tilting a head to one side and thinking on his words, her cheeks turned a faint shade of red. Shame, or anger, or a mixture of both. She was already indebted to him once over, and he now sought to gift her a thing like a horse! The tribes of the plains held the equine in a special sort of reverence, and they were highly valued. The debt would, it seem, deepen...unless...

For the now. There is no need to accept such a gift ultimately. It is but necessary to survive, now. She took the reins, nodding to herself and the anger fading from her face as she did. "For now," she said...and then dropped the reins. She made her way back along the animal, looking at the straps holding the saddle on, and shaking her head as did. She, like her kindred, preferred to ride bareback. There was no way to dispose of the saddle, though; leaving it would help to dispel the glam that the Seven had worked for her.

She vaulted onto the beasts back, and hint of the weakness that had assailed her minutes before gone.

"Water lies sunward," she said as she took hold of the animals mane with her good hand. The twisted left limb lie across the withers of the beast. "Glam, it only...maybe...," she began, and then spat angrily to one side. "Twice cursed red tides! That you cannot speak the Seven's chosen, and that I must be tongue-tied by this coarse speech of the Sundered," she ranted with enough vehemence that the mare skipped about beneath her. The coherent words trailed off into imprecations that did not translate well at all into common.

"Follow," she said after she had given vent to her frustration for a minute or so, booting the horse so that it danced about, kicking up dust. If one looked closely enough, it was possible to see the markings the horse made fade back to unbroken ground, as if the dirt and dust shifted itself to make it seem as though none had passed.

Implacable eyes watched over all, burning with an intensity born of the immortal.

 

[Brandr]

"Or don't.." he added somewhat confusedly as it seemed he'd offended her with the offer, shrugging to himself and pulling himself up into his own saddle with a groan. Either way, he was riding, and he'd have felt a little awkward if she decided to travel on foot. Not that he particularly cared. He didn't particularly care about much.

His chin dipped as she made the more convenient decision to ride and he studied the landscape. It'd been some time since he'd ventured out of the town he'd managed to lay low in for the past few years. He'd had no interest in doing much else but working, and the roads were rarely a wise place for a wanted man to wander. He was glad, therefore, that the odd little woman was so finely attuned to the wilderness.

He cast a side look at her as she tried to communicate, but as she slipped into some gibberish rant his lips twitched and a brow quirked in quiet amusement until she'd finished and his throat cleared. "I tend to have that effect on women.." he commented with a subtle snort at himself.

"I'll follow." he agreed and gestured for her to take the lead with a shake of his head. At least he didn't have to worry much about making conversation. Brandr wasn't much of a conversationalist, though it'd never stopped Marcus trying. He felt a churning wave of guilt at the thought, and his mood was sombre and broody as he followed the No'Rei 'sunward' until they reached the water that'd been promised.

 

[Aeyliea]

And so she did, not that there had ever been any question about who was going to follow who. Sundered, outsider...man of the city, all described the man who had stepped in to save her life. The fact still galled her, but there was no changing what the fates had seen fit to deal her.

The Savannah was vast beyond comprehension to most, but the seeming flatness of much of it was but an illusion. Grasses chest-high to a man rolled like waves on an ocean, tan and grey and brown during this part of the year. But the land rolled with it, gentle hills wherein little draws hid dry creek beds and stands of trees. Seen from above, where water sometimes flowed were ribbons of oak and willow, bits of white stone exposed by the torrential floods of spring. No water shimmered in any of these places, of course. It was fall, past the harsh heat of summer but still as dry.

The savage said nothing to the man as they went. He was not much for conversation and, for the moment, neither was she. As their shadows grew long across the sere land, the only conversation to be had was the one in her head - the raging battle between honor and duty.

Duty would have her cut this mans throat and water the grass with his blood. But honor would not allow this; much more than a life for a life, it was an aspect of their culture that the outside world sometimes struggled to understand. Men could be killed for speaking unwisely of another to their face; their worst enemies be granted succor in their hour of need all because of honor, and the strict code that was followed by all the No'rei.

She ground her teeth over it, though. Even more because there was a certain logic to not slaying him just yet, anyway. The people from the city would not give up so quickly...and they would likely catch up with them. There were those among them who were gifted at tracking, and while her glam held it would stall them...but the trackers would know that magic for what it was.

And wait.

The thick light of dusk lay about everything as they finally reached their destination. Here, a bit of rock had thrust up from beneath the grasses, creating a ridge perhaps twenty feet high. It was visible from a little ways off, but not from any great distance. The sedimentary stone had the look of being bleached out by the sun - not inaccurate. And, at one point along this natural cliff...greenery grew in verdant profusion. Water dribbled up from deep underground, creating a pool on the rocky verge of the formation, a pool no more than a foot deep and a few feet across.

"Here, we camp," she said. She was tired, and she imagined he was as well. "Need ... chips, for fire. Then maybe food..." she continued, looking back the way they had come. Staring into the distance as though she could see over the grasses. With the feeling of strangeness about her...maybe she could.

 

[Brandr]

He rode in contemplative reticence across the plains, the prairie meadow meandering in all the ways that are soft to the breeze, the gold flowing in rhythmic waves as to make any river proud. There was a casual grace to it, as it it had a peripheral awareness of its own soothing voice, a poetry to the eye and soul, yet would rather be at peace in its warm sun. It was a far cry from the oppressive swelter and constant clamour of the forge, and he allowed to calm to settle into his aching bones and his soul to breath the fresh, sweet air.

Her voice seemed to wake him from his lull and he rubbed at his face, stifling a yawn and slipping down from his saddle to stretch out and offer the stallion an appreciative pat on the neck. He deftly unlatched the buckles to unsaddle him, and the horse nickered as he went to the promised water.

"I packed what food I had.. It'll do for a day or two.." he offered, dropping his things against the shelter of the rocks. His brow quirked as he caught her staring off into the distance, following her gaze for a moment and clearing the grittiness from his voice before he spoke again.

"What do you see?.." he asked curiously as he started collecting some dry grass to kindle.

 

[Aeyliea]

She blinked, and pulled her mind back from that distant place she had gone to. The wind sighed softly through the grass and whistled against the wall of stone before them. With a last look in the direction she had come, she turned instead to working on making a camp.

"...not...not...," she began, mouth opening and closing as she searched for the word she wanted. With an angry hiss, she shook her head. "Not impor..important," she managed. "The Seven ... hide still. Morning, maybe, or when moon is so," she said, and then gestured skyward to indicate the position the moon would be in when her spell finally waned into nothingness. She shrugged as though that should explain everything he could wish to know, and then searched round the site.

She found an old fire ring, sunk into the earth in the manner of the denizens of the grasslands. It would serve as a cooking fire and help ward of the chill of the night - a surprisingly harsh thing, when during the day the blazing heat was enough to drench the unaccustomed in sweat in minutes. Dug into the ground, the tell-tale light would not travel far enough to alert anyone further away than dozens of yards. There were some convenient bits of dried animal dung stored up near the stone cliff - a stockpile for a regular visitor, maybe.

Unimportant to her.

Piling that and a pile of dried grass that she meticulously shredded into as fine a wispy ball as she could, she settled down on her haunches, the blacksmith in front of her, and pulled a piece of flint from the little bag that hung from her belt. She would not call upon Ty'lochin for something as banal as starting a fire; any member of the clans could do that without wasting the attention of the Seven on it. Flint in hand, she drew her belt knife, and went to work on striking a spark.

"When in ... in the big camp, lot of people...there was boy." The thick accent had a certain charm to it, once you grew accustomed to it. She struck the steel against stone, and was rewarded with a shower of sparks. None took to the dry grass. "No is here. Where?"

Strike. Spark. No fire. No understanding of where the lad had gone to that had stepped up in her favor, much as this man had done.

 

[Brandr]

He had absolutely no idea what this woman was on about and his face only portrayed his tired confusion as he followed her pointed finger to the skies once again. "Ah.." he replied, a sound of understanding where his expression showed none at all.

Seven what? He thought of asking her more, hit her frustration in trying to communicate with him was clear and he chose not to stoke those embers any more than was necessary. It wasn't important, she'd said, and so he'd leave it alone.

By the time she had set about trying to light the fire, Brandr was fishing in one of his saddle bags for whatever food he'd found time to pack. He paused elbow-deep in his bag as she spoke of Marcus, casting a sidelong look at her for a moment before he pulled out one small parcel wrapped in white cloth, then another, and another.

"He involved himself in something he ought not to have involved himself in, and he wasn't paying attention to his damned surroundings." he grumped quietly to himself, as though the words had been a well rehearsed rant to the boy.

"He was killed." he said to clarify, his brow knit in consternation as he busied his hands with unknotting the cloth to unwrap the half-cob of bread, the sausages and cheese. He gestured toward it in offering as he stood, lifting his empty water skin to fill by the pool.

 

[Aeyliea]

She made a complex gesture with her hands upon hearing the man's answer to her question, seemingly without being aware of the fact. Sparks finally caught, and she bent low to blow on them, cupping her hand to protect the fledgling flame from the incessant winds of the Sea. After a few moments, she sat back up, and the flames were leaping about the piled manure with gusto. <"Your blessing is welcome, Ty'lochin,"> she said in her native tongue, and bowed her head to the flame briefly before turning to Brandr.

She smiled at the grizzled warrior. "Is good," she said in regards to the death of the youth. "Un...unblooded? New to spear, but no fear. His...his soul burn bright as sun," she said. Although uncertain how she felt about it, and if it were even true that one of the Sundered could know the Sea of Souls, the gleaming sky overhead of a night...the only way to shine so bright was the bring honor with you when you died.

There was no more honorable way to return to the dream. It was sad that the boy never made it far into life, but at least he did not die a coward. To the No'rei, honor was everything, and his death would have been praised and sang of. "Watching from the Sea, he is," she added, and accepted a bit the food offered. Not much, but enough to keep her alive and to stretch the store of food as long as possible. "Much honor."

Her eyes roamed the edge of the camp, and stopped suddenly. In a flash, almost quicker than the eye could follow, she had spun and thrown the knife in her hand. It struck sparks where it hit stone, and she got to her feet quickly to retrieve it.

It, and a snake. The thing writhed round her arm and wrist, despite the fact that its head bore a great big hole in it. The nomad raised it up with a grin on her face. "Save extra. In case need move fast," she said, plopping down and starting to work on the four-foot long viper with the clear intent of eating it.

 

[Brandr]

Brandr's brow furrowed incredulously at the No'Rei as she smiled at him. Good? A muscle feathered in his jaw and he grunted, looking away from her and into the flames, busying his tongue with eating as she spoke rather than let it loose to lash at her like a viper.

Marcus had been a boy. He hadn't sprouted his first chin hair or kissed a girl. He hadn't travelled further than a day outside of his own town in his entire life, and he'd died trying to defend the woman he now sat next to. The one claiming that he died with honour. It was still too raw, and he was one to shove such feelings down, extinguishing them with logic and reality rather than accept that he was, underneath it all, capable of human emotions.

"If it were 'good', he'd be here, alive." he commented dryly. He hadn't heard anything approach and so when the woman moved so suddenly, Brandr flinched and was quick to his feet, his gaze wide and dagger drawn as he stared at where the knife had clashed against the rock.

His shoulders visibly eased as he let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. A fucking snake. He tucked his own blade away again and ran a hand down his face in exasperation.

"I'm getting too old for this shit.." he muttered and flopped back down next to the fire to recline with a shake of his head. For a while, he simply stared at the sky through the sparse, whispering leaves, though his gaze was far more distant than the stars. His mind was elsewhere entirely, and he blinked hard when he realised how lost he'd been in thoughts that done him no good to visit.

"What's your name?.." he asked, shifting to look at her and patting on his chest. "Brandr... You?.."

 

[Aeyliea]

Splitting scaled hide with her knife, she listened to his words and thought them over. The dryness of his tone was completely lost on her, of course. She would be able to pick up on those subtle cues were it her own native tongue, but it was not. As it was, she looked at the man as though he were frankly daft. "Boy is alive," she said. It wasn't something that should require explanation, but she explained it anyway. "His...soul? ... yet lives. Return, he will," she said and then summarily let the topic drop. It wasn't important anyway.

She went about her work with brisk, business-like motions, skinning the serpent and carefully removing its entrails. To his question, she absently pointed at her own neck with the knife, to the simple tattoo that wove round that delicate feature. It was but a narrow band, an inch wide at best, and had the look of glyphs. After a moment, she seemed to realize this would probably be a waste to the Sundered man, and shook her head.

"Aeyliea," she said, patting her ample chest in mimicry of Brandr. She waited for a moment as though expecting some recognition that would not come - her name was sung of as a hero through time, but there was no way the Sundered would know such. "Ap Teil'an," she added. She wound the flesh of the serpent round a green stick, splitting it into three pieces for three skewers. These she arranged over the low fire.

And then she turned her cold regard on the older man. She settled down cross-legged, and observed him for a long moment, thinking of all the things that had gone through her mind up to this point. Honor bound her from killing him, same as she was honor bound to repay the debt owed.

She muttered something under her breath, the flowing music of her own language hard to hear despite the silence of the wilderness. She cocked her head to one side. "You help me leave forever camp," she said suddenly.

"Why?" The single, thickly accented word hung like an accusation in the flickering darkness. Like a headsman's axe, waiting to drop.

 

[Brandr]

Brand's brow furrowed in confusion, the foolish and wishful part of his mind igniting at the possibility that she had somehow seen the boy alive. He'd watched him die, but of course, there were illusions, there were tricks and there were also healers and shaman who might've been able to...

His soul...

He cursed himself with a shake of his head for his momentary break from reality, his hand running down his face with a deep huff. This was her way and he'd try to respect it, but it was difficult not to feel frustrated by her nonchalant views on death. He'd spent most of his life as a soldier, he'd seen more death than any should, but it was just that. Death. The end. Nothing more. Whatever fanciful idea the No'Rei had about what happened after was their prerogative, but the unexpected guilt and pain he felt in losing Marcus was far too fresh to be dismissed by foolish notions.

His chin dipped in acknowledgement of her name and he tore into some stale bread, pausing mid chew as she settled down in front of him, looking at him in scrutiny. He swallowed and his brow arched slowly at her question.

"Because the Boy had a better heart than I ever did and decided it was the right thing to do. It was he who wanted to help you, and he got himself involved and so, got me involved.." And he died for it, he thought bitterly..

"And because I hate those men." he frowned and took a long swig of water, dragging the droplets from his lips with the back of his wrist.

"Why did you help me?" he countered, offering her the water skin.

 

[Aeyliea]

She looked away from the man on his admission. It changed nothing; he may not have desired getting involved for her sake, but he had. The debt of honor remained, the flavor of it unchanged. As for all the rest of his words, they made little sense to her; how someone could have a better heart than another was beyond her. Perhaps it meant that the youth was stronger, or some archaic thing like that.

Such sentimentality was unheard of among her people. There were no parallels to be drawn here.

His question caught her off guard, and it should not have. She looked at him as though he were an idiot, taking the skin and a single swallow of water before handing it back. Handing it back, and explaining in the slow, patient tone of someone speaking to a (particularly thick) child.

"Life for life," she said slowly, almost slowly enough that the thickness of her accent and unfamiliarity with the language did not interfere. "Honor...you are <Sundered> ... unclean, but...but not matter." She made an expansive gesture to the heavens above, where the stars were already beginning to gleam high in the heaves. "Ancestors watch... see all, but no soul is...beyond?...seeing. Later, return. Tell tale of dishonor, shame." She pointed to the tattoo on her neck, the one that bore her name and aught else. Not that Brandr would be able to interperet that, of course; he was not born of the people.

The tattoo bore the name, and all the dishonor that name carried with it. Hers was simply her name, and nothing more. To the Sundered, it meant little...but among her people, she carried great status, quite apart for the storied history of her name. It would take too long to tell, and Brandr would not believe anyway, of the fact that the soul of the No'rei was immortal, and that the ancestors did watch from on high, high in the Sea of Souls that even then stretched across the darkening sky. One day, they would return, and bring with them tales - or could, anyway.

"You...life in danger for me. Stranger, no clan, no tribe. No ...stake?...and yet help you did. And now...my honor in your hands...," she managed finally. She did not look at him for that last. Being honor-bound, duty bound to not kill him was shameful enough - but having to redress the balance made it even worse.

"Anyway," she continued. "One woman alone no safe. <Sundered> hunt, much danger. Much problem," she said, lifting the twisted left arm as emphasis of her troubles. Even lifting it made her face pale in pain, and it was difficult to do besides. She let it drop, to great relief - it felt like knives being twisted in the healing muscles, and though she knew no taint remained in her flesh, the ghost of that sickness seemed to linger on. "Two, better than one. Maybe honor back to me, 'ere end of troubles."

She looked to him, questioning eyes still hard as stone. "What do? Need return home...but far. Much trouble behind. Many want kill me...and you?"

 

[Brandr]

His lips pressed into a thin line and he let out a nasal huff as she spoke to him like he was an imbecile, his brow dipping further in offence as he was branded 'unclean'. He had too difficult a time understanding what she was rambling on about to interrupt her with any protest and so he just continued to stare and frown, trying his best to make sense of her. Each time she pointed to the skies, whether to gesture to the sun or the Seven or whatever she believed apparently watched them, he'd look up, as though he might see whatever see saw. As though some part of him hoped to.

The tattoo on her neck appeared to spell out her name as far as he could tell. "Aye.. Aeyliea.." he rumbled quietly as she pointed to it again. Brandr rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck, noting that she seemed to find it difficult to look at him as she explained that she was honour bound to him.

"I have much trouble behind me also. Now, I have no home. I need to find a new one, somewhere far from here." he frowned, his stormy gaze settling on her flimsy arm for a moment. "And you are right, two is better than one, and i'll remain with you until you reach your home but you owe me nothing. I release you from whatever you believe binds your life to mine." he waved a hand dismissively.

"And I had a bath three days ago, thank you." he added begrudgingly. "Clean." he pointed to his chest, albeit still blood-spattered and covered in dust.

 

[Aeyliea]

She snorted, her cheeks reddening a bit. In anger, in exasperation. The man did not think her honor was worthwhile, apparently; the fact that he had suggested she ignore her own debt on this particular account said as much. It was her honor, not his, and only she could determine the worth of it. It was not as simple as stating she owed him nothing, but she neither had the words to express this, nor the will at the moment.

She shrugged at him. "Clean?" She arched an eyebrow at the idea of it, considering the blood and dust, but let it be. She did not understand that he had misunderstood what she had tried to say before - that it was not his body that was unclean, but his soul. Stained by the guilt of his forebears thousands of generations dead, now.

She looked back to the west - the direction they had come from - and stared as though she could see beyond the horizon. Echoes of the magic she had held for but a moment seemed to run through her, but they brought no vision from above. "Only with me until close. Outsider, <Sundered>, they kill you. But first..."

Looking west.

***

"Well?"

The single word hung in the air like an accusation, and the owner of the voice scowled at the unkempt fellow it had been directed at. That worthy was squatted on the ground, the brown and tan leathers he wore creaking and muted from the dust of the plains even as he let that very same dust trickle through his fingers, borne away on the wind as he looked eastward.

"They went that way," he said in accented common. It was perfectly serviceable. which was to be expected for a tracker often in the employ of many in this part of the world. "The woman has called to her gods for concealment, and they have answered," he added.

"And?"

Nei'ajh shrugged. He did not believe in the Seven like the rest of his kindred did, and it was not very surprising. He was very tall for a No'rei - he still bore that name, though he felt it a curse - with the dark hair and and eyes a slate grey that matched the scales on his arms and the back of his neck. Not that those could be seen, of course; he took great pains to keep as much of his skin covered as possible. The tattoos he had been given on the ceremony of his majority covered much of his body. Nei'ajh was not a name with a storied history, but rather one of infamy.

A burning resentment ate at his heart every time he thought of it.

"Does not matter," he said. He was not nor had ever been a Seer, but he knew he could cut through the tricks of the Seers to find his quarry if needs be. "Is very faint, but there are signs they went east. There is only a few watering holes in that direction, and she should know them all. Matter of luck which one they are at...we just need visit them all tonight, and we can catch them."

"That is well," said the Anirian soldier. He turned back to the others with a scowl on his face. "Mount up. No rest tonight, not until we find them."

And make them pay for the price in blood they had left behind that day.

 

[Brandr]

His jaw tightened at the woman's clear signs of vexation and his sharp nasal huff turned into an exasperated laugh of his own, his hand dragging up his brow and running into his greying hair to keep himself calm. It seemed their conflicting beliefs clashed and the feeling of indignation was mutual.

"Clean enough." he murmured, removing his cloak and rolling it up to use as a make-shift pillow which he lay down on with a grunt whilst she rambled on about someone killing him. He watched her staring off into the growing darkness at nothing, and honestly couldn't help but think the woman was just a little.. fruity.

He turned away from her, his eyes closing as he bathed in the pleasant glow of the little fire. "Aye... Lets just, get some sleep eh?" he grumbled dismissively and closed his eyes.

 

[Aeyliea]

She shook her head at his dismissive tone and suggestion, pulling her eyes away from the direction they had come. Some inner disquiet that had ridden with her all evening had not dissipated, nor vanished. It still sat there, heavy as a stone in her stomach. Somewhere out there in the gathering gloom, trouble lurked. She had felt this feeling before; she was a Seer after all, and there was a reason her and her ilk were referred to as such.

The future was ever murky, though; currents could be discerned, but the waters were as impenetrable as stone itself.

"Sleep," she said slowly, and then nodded just as slowly. Looking west again, she shook herself lightly and scootched to the other side of the fire, careless of the dirt. After a moment, she banked the fire in its ashes so that it died down to nothing more than a sullen cherry glow, and then lay down with her back to Brandr.

Sleep was swift, for a change, but it brought no good things with it.

***

"Wake," she whispered, her mouth an inch from his ear and as low as she could make it and still be heard. The sky overhead glowed with the light of a billion stars, a streak across the heavens that looked as though a giant had poured glowing milk across the inky void. The Sea of Souls glowed, the souls of the departed watching over the realm ere there return.

Aeyliea rose to her feet. She held the short spear in hand, although she still lacked the buckler that she preferred. She was looking into the darkness beyond, ears straining to hear something. Whoever was out there had not alerted her by making any noise; it was to other senses she owed the warning. A whispered voice in her head...speaking of the danger that lurked beyond.

Something bolted in the darkness, crashing through the grass west of them, and the silence that followed was so painfully completed that it was clear someone was trying not to make any noise. She nudged Brandr in the ribs just to make sure, then crouched low.

 

[Brandr]

Brandr flinched from his sleep, his brief surge of panic less to do with how loud the word was spoken, but how close it was to his ear. The damned woman moved like a cat. Instinct and reflex had taken his hand to his blade, but his disorientation hadn't lasted long enough for him to draw it.

"What is it?" he asked, just as lowly as he rolled to a crouch, watching her and following her gaze into the darkness. It was so densely quiet that he thought her mistaken, that she'd fallen for a trick of the senses and paranoia had gotten the better of her. There were no doubt animals scurrying here and there, breeze weaving through the grasses, orchestras of all sorts of insects. He'd been about to voice something of that natured when he heard something darting through the grass and his head whipped toward it, the halt in movement and silence that followed far too intentional to be that of an animal.

He gave a slow nod at the nudge in the ribs, and set his body low to the ground, lifting his axe from the ground where he'd been asleep. The horses nickered, Dotty stamped a fretful hoof in the dirt. He made a mental note to butcher her for meat..

 

[Aeyliea]

She did not try to remain utterly silent, but rather tried to blend in with the soft sounds of the night. There were others out there, many others...but she could not see them in the near complete darkness. That was both a blessing and a curse; they would probably be equally as blind as they, but there was no telling how many of them there were.

This was her world, not the outsiders. Every blade of grass, every bit of grit and dust - the soft sigh of the wind, the susurration of the low growth. The bugs, the birds, the antelope and bison and other herding animals that lived here - all a part of her, bred in the blood and bone. There were ways to circumvent these problems.

Though absent, she thought of the larger moon. Both moons were of Lorien, she of the Darkness. Though her power was often shunned by the others...

...the Seer called to it regardless. In her mind, silent, she called out to the mistress of the eternal night, the shepherdess of the velvet cloth overhead. Keeper of souls. She had nothing to offer the consort of Tiam, nothing but a piece of her own self - her soul, her essence, some fundamental thing that was her...

Something answered. Startled, she let out a soft gasp as something was torn from her in a rather ungentle manner. It was well she was not standing, for she would have fallen then and there.

<<...what....dost.....thou seeketh... ... ... ...of me, ... child...>> A whisper in her skull, a voice that did not pass her ears. It thundered like the heavens for all that it was a whisper, a strange duality that defied explanation. The language was archaic and difficult to follow - it was none that she had ever heard before. And yet...yet, she could understand.

Understand the terrible nature of the thing that spoke to her.

She made to answer, but the creature - female, ancient beyond knowing, words weighted like time itself - answered her request before she had even given the question. <<...that ... ... is all? Thine wish...is granted, child.>> There was a long moment of silence. <<Price? Speaketh not of cost to thine self. Later, once thou hast traveled hither...soon...>>

That ancient presence vanished. In its place, though, was a strange fragment of power. It seemed simple enough, nestled in the pit of her stomach, flowing out from within to suffuse every part of her body...

...including her eyes. The dark landscape suddenly leapt into sharp relief, every shadow suddenly as easy to discern as though broad daylight. Some fragment of the divine had been entrusted to her, a piece of one of the Seven. She did not know how she knew, but she knew in the same way she knew she had five fingers on each hand.

She also knew that she could pass this gift on to others, albeit temporarily. A gift she did not understand, a thing that could end up more costly and terrible than anything she could imagine. Only...survival was more important now.

She lay a hand on Brandr. "Open...eyes," she said softly, and willed some bit of the essence that the ancient one had bequeathed unto her into Brandr's flesh. She could feel it flow from her into him, and felt the weight of the act hit her immediately. A small thing, but cumulative with anything else she did this night.

Looking into the grass, she could see one man clearly, but there were surely more than just a single soul out there. She did not move, however. Let the larger man who crouched beside her make the first move...and then she could, perhaps, make good her debt.

 

[Brandr]

The gasp she drew sent a jolt through him, adrenaline making his entire body sing with the desire to move. He thought her hurt, but he’d heard no movement. Of course, he knew well enough that movement was not necessary to inflict harm on another.

“Aey?” he breathed out amidst a quiet breeze, his brow furrowed. He could barely see a foot in front of him, let alone see what ailed her. Another rustle of grass grabbed back his attention and his eyes strained to focus in the direction of the sound, keeping his body low, thinking it best to remain still until he was certain of what they were facing.

The hand on his arm caused yet another flinch and he clenched his jaw in frustration, about to protest that his eyes were in fact open when he realised.. Oh. His gaze narrowed, widened and blinked, adjusting to the new, odd sensation of sight through what he knew was thick darkness. He looked at her for a moment, questions flooding his mind though not one word would he dare utter.

Slowly, he rose from his crouch, and set his eyes upon the man still blinded by the night who crept deftly toward them, one near silent foot at a time. It was somewhat amusing to see him move like that, unaware that he was looking directly at Brand and believing that he had the upper hand. Brand’s gaze swept the grasses, unable to detect any more at the moment, though like Aey, he was certain this man was not alone. His axe rose up, the movement slow and calculating and when he’d aimed it just so, he launched it end over end through the air to strike home in the man’s chest and got ready to move

 

[Aeyliea]

Despite the lethality of the attack, the man still managed to scream before dropping, and with that clarion call, chaos descended on the camp. Almost at the same moment of the scream, a voice cut through the stifling silence following that one call of pain. It was thickly accented, and clearly not of Anirian make. "Beware! Witchcraft is afoot," this one called out, and the grunt of a few nearby men gave away their location.

Not that she needed the help.

The splinter-shafted spear would serve well enough in this case, and she immediately got to her feet. Another wielding a similar, unbroken weapon stood a few dozen paces away, and she cannoned towards him with all of the speed at her disposal. Despite her less than stellar state of health, she was still unbelievably fleet of foot, and closed the distance between her and her helpless mark too quick for the man to have reasonable countered had he been able to see her.

Which he couldn't. Ruthless as the Sea, she rammed the foot-long steel point into his chest, below and to the left of the sternum. His chain provided very little protection against such an attack, so precisely placed and carefully delivered it was. He opened his mouth to scream in pain, and instead issued forth a stream of bright red blood that splattered on the savage's face and chest. In the same motion, with all the momentum thus gained, she pivoted and kicked the man off her spear. He landed in a crumpled heap nearby, legs feebly kicking.

<<"Feed the thirsty Sea, sundered dogs,">> she snarled in her native tongue, before charging towards another shape in the grass. Their opponents had badly misjudged their prey, and she would press that advantage as cruelly as she could. The fellow she had focused on this time bore and hand axe - strange choice of weapon among the Sundered, but useless when you could not see what you fought.

And then light bloomed overhead, a star of brilliant blue-white light. Despite her ability to see i nthe dark, it did not dazzle either her or Brandr; such was the manner of her magic. The light did, however, uncovered a dozen assailants - two of whom were already down.

She briefly catalogued the archers - three of them - that were struggling to string their bows and loose something before either of the melee combatants could close on them. As such, she shifted her attack, and went to the nearest of these.

Ten on two was heavily stacked odds. She knew they needed to find the one that had cast the spell and slay him or her swiftly so that their advantage in numbers would count for naught.

 

[Brandr]

The moment the dying scream rang out, Brandr moved. Swiftly, he followed the path of his axe and wrenched it free of the supine body with a sickening crack of bone and an audible spurt of blood. He turned on his heel, his eyes scanning the grasses for those crouching within, believing they were unseen. He stalked toward the closest one, his fingers tightening on the weapons he housed in both hands and one of which raised and ready to come down into the skull of his next opponent when the light cast down from above.

He paused as several faces, bathed in starlight looked toward the skies and then settled on him. His lips twitched at the recognition on more than one of the faces, and his weapon continued its journey, finding purchase in the crook of the young soldier's neck. Shouts were raised in warning, and quickly, more came for him.

'Careful! He's a Dreadlord!'

Brandr kicked the lad free of his axe just in time to dodge the path of a blade, the clash and clang of swords the song of chaos as the former Dreadlord was put through his paces, blocking and parrying, evading and landing blow after blow.

The archers, he soon realised, were a problem, and he saw the glistening arrowhead protruding from the front of his shoulder before he felt the searing pain that followed. The force of it knocked his footing and a blade that'd been aimed at his head sliced along his jaw. Too close.

Another man charged and met his death at the end of Brandr's axe before he could reach him. With his blade, he continued to battle and his freehand rose to gather a pool of shadow from the grass. The next arrow was well aimed at his chest, though the darkness rose up, solid as a shield to stop the weapon in its path before he cast it toward the archer in shards, sharp as daggers, killing him before he could nock another.

 

[Aeyliea]

It was an old dance. An old, familiar dance despite her youth; she was and always had been a warrior of the Sea, and she fought like hell unleashed.

She went for the archers, and the melee combatants - reading her intent - moved to intercept, at least those not occupied with Brandr. She cursed at the lack of suitable offerings to the Seven, and instead offered herself in the stead of what would normally have been given. Dangerous, dangerous and stupid and stupidly dangerous, and the berating she would get from her elders over such insanity would be difficult to describe...

...but necessary.

She felt something of herself drain away, some innate vitality. She moved just a little less swiftly, just a little less powerfully. In the long run it would be telling, but in the short? She simply had to make it so that it would not be costly. For the price, the wind shifted round her. Constantly, for a dozen paces in every direction, moving it out and away. Arrows, loosed in haste, did not find their mark when tracking her, blown narrowly to one side or another. Unlike Brandr, the power she wielded was far more subtle.

On the one hand.

A young fool with a sword was the first to meet her. His lateral slash would have been met by a shield, had she one, but instead she danced back and, while he was still regaining his balance from the ill-timed attack, she darted forward and expertly placed the tip of her spear through his throat. In, out, a welter of blood and gargling cries of pain before she sidestepped him and met the next, a burly fellow with a sword himself.

She jumped back at a thrust, sidestepped as he stepepd forward, and then darted past him, striking his face with the haft of her spear. It was not a telling blow, but it was not meant to be; a bowman was drawing to full, and she lunged at him before he could loose, skewering him in the guts. His blood-curdling shriek of pain was like music to her ears, and the sting of a blade slicing through her back - out of range for a mortal wound, but in range for something more superficial - was well worth it.

One archer left; they dropped their bow and ran into the grass. In fact, the majority of the combatants were disengaging as quickly as they had jumped at the opportunity; the light in the sky winked out as if its vanishing would make their escape any easier.

Aeyliea kicked the fellow on her spear off, and he writhed on the ground as blood wept from the wound. She looked round for the next target, for the mage that had turned the tide briefly, and found nothing.

<<"Run, you cowardly hyenas! Summer midden heaps! Run into the shifting sands and be swallowed like the cowards you are!">> she shouted after them as they ran, and only one among them looked back in the darkness with a scowl on their face.

 

[Brandr]

He turned, expecting to meet another opponent, only to see their retreat. Burning pain throbbed though his shoulder and he was more than happy to lower his blade and catch his breath, but his pain bred rage, and that they would hunt then down and start a fight then flee like cowards boiled his blood.

Brandr's hand clenched by his side as he gripped the shadows of the grass, a few hundred needle-like shadows peeling away and rising into the air like arrows loosed from a few hundred bows, ready to skewer every last one of the bastards. One called out a warning, but the light above them was extinguished, and everything fell back into darkness - his weapons with them.

"Fuck." Brand spat. Another fucking moment of light, and they'd all have been dead. Another moment and he wouldn't have to worry about the bastards coming after him again, at least not so soon. They knew who he was now, at least they knew what he'd been and where he should be.

He wiped the blood from his face with a wince at the sting, and sheathed his blade as he walked to retrieve his axe. "Y'alright?" he growled, yanking the weapon free of its last victim with a sickening crack.