wheremusestread - Tumblr blog

wheremusestread · 11 years ago

Text

Blood & Steel Episode Four - VeyVila

“Are you alright?” Ana asked, hands on Sadrik’s shoulders and eyes studying the damage done by Darrius various kicks to his body. Punishment for interrupting the Prince.

“Oh yes, thank you. It’s going away now.” He let out a breath and inhaled slowly a few more times before he felt all right with straightening up. The split in his chin was still bleeding, but he showed no concern. Everything would heal and he seemed used to this sort of treatment. “I suppose I should explain as much to you as I can while we have some time... I’m so sorry, Analia Stone, this wasn’t my intention at all.”

Without announcing himself, Darrius stepped into another of the suspended houses, this one bigger, longer, built on a larger tree with angled beams beneath it to support the weight and length of the structure.

“Kaveh.” The man in question turned to face his prince at the sound of his name, dark green eyes locking on his red ones for a moment before his head bowed, respectfully. He was tall, but slightly shorter than the Prince was and would have happily slouched otherwise.

“My lord.”

“Show me.”

Kaveh nodded and turned back to the table he had been leaning over. Across it was an extremely detailed map of the area. Some of the details had been created by the original mapmaker, some were additions made by the soldiers as they scouted different areas. Bits and pieces of landscape that might come in useful to their goal or battle, or might prove harmful.

“The most reasonable route for Prince Blake’s party to travel back to the Capital is here.” His index and middle finger sketched a line through the map, weaving along the great river and marking two bridges where he might possibly cross. Either way, it would lead his party through a valley just on the outskirts of the Capital City.

“There are several places we could make an attack. The bridges, the valley, there are good cover areas in the woods along the river. Which do you prefer, Sir?”

“Between the bridges.. The landscape may be less advantageous but we’ll have a much sharper element of surprise. At any of those other points, Blake’s men would be expecting it, bracing for it... We’ll get them when their guard has loosened up. When they think spreading out is to their benefit, spreading thin.” He looked on at the map, nodding with growing conviction, then turned his eyes up to Kaveh, asking without asking what input he had in response. Kaveh nodded.

“With the river on one side it should be easy to corner them, if we line the men out correctly. Though, their being spread out will make it difficult to narrow down where the Prince is before we attack. He may slip away.”

Darrius gave a brusque nod, agreeing. Straightening from the maps, he crossed his arms, glaring at the parchment as if it would give him the answers he desired. “What I wouldn’t do to have old man Cian’s talent around right now,” he grumbled, an admission that snuck out on a breath. The man about whom he spoke had trained him in all things combat and had a dangerous and amazing ability to transform most things, especially living things, into explosions. A messy but terrifying and useful tool to have at one's fingertips. It had made Cian very useful to Darrius and to his father. Cian was widely known throughout Narda and most of the Vey, in stories if nothing else.

Even as he stood there staring at the map, plans began to formulate in Darrius’s head. Tactics. He had a small group readily available and now Blake knew they were coming, knew they wanted something from him, though the fool probably expected it to be something simple. He would not know until it was too late what their real objective was and once they had accomplished that, he would be running for his life. In Darrius’ mind, that was as good as being dead. The people would never respect a man who ran to save his own skin and left them behind.

First things first - plan the attack.

The whole area was a mess. The process of moving bodies had taken a few hours. Then there was burial, but that was someone else’s job. Veir returned to the room the Healer had once occupied. Something strange had happened in here, and as of yet no one was certain what spell the healer had attempted. Something extremely powerful. Something that had drawn the attention of the rebels.

He began to tidy things up, gathering the stones the Healer had been using for his spell, wiping down the surfaces for any blood that might had spattered, then took to scrubbing the floor. That’s when he found the strange object. It seemed to be made of some sort of metal. He examined it for a few moments, and then determined it must have been left behind either by the healer, or a weapon of the rebels.

On his feet, the servant made a steady pace across the outpost to the chambers of the Prince, explaining himself to the guard outside the door. The guard took a moment to step inside, announced the servant, then allowed the Veir to enter. He did so slowly, head down, hands clutching the item.

“My lord.”

Curious, Prince Blake raised a brow and looked down at the piece as the servant held it out, examining it for a long moment - probably a very uncomfortable moment for Veir - before reaching for it with his kerchief. It seemed wise not to touch it just yet. Perhaps that spell had been a curse? One could never be certain and this object... He had never seen anything like it before nor heard about something even vaguely similar. Then again, how would one even begin to describe it?

“Summon Princess Kera.” Perhaps his sister could read something from it that he could not. It took only a few minutes for her to step into Blake’s room, looking at him curiously. Veir had seemed both excited and a little terrified when he had reported that Blake wished to see her regarding something that found in the Healers room. A single look at the object told her that it was strange, foreign.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. See for yourself,” Blake said, placing the object on the table and bringing another full candelabra closer to shed light on it for her. Kera leaned down close to get a better look at the object. Metal, oddly shaped, some sort of hole in the front. It had a long end and a strange, curved piece of metal over what looked like some sort of switch. Interesting.

“Perhaps the Gods will tell us what this means.”

“The man who holds us captive is the son of a King,” Sadrik was explaining. He rooted around in his satchel, the bag he had been allowed to keep, until he found a folded piece of parchment that he unfurled to reveal a map of the world. A small world, Ana realized. The continent itself appeared to be about the size of Africa, but it was the only one on the map. Had these people simply not discovered the rest of their world, or was it truly so small in comparison to her own?

“This is where we are and this is where I think we’re headed. To the capital city of the kingdom, Areli. Though it’s all one kingdom now, Dara, it was once three. Dara, Narda, and Haimati. Narda’s lands were contested and Dara and Narda were constantly at war over them. Narda was once this south eastern area, mostly desert, and then the northern continent was populated sparsely by the kingdom of Haimati.”

“For the most part, Haimati and Dara are and have been allies. It’s Narda that has constantly been at war. At war within and without. Resources are sparse there, life is hard. The people are fierce. Most of them are not entirely unlike Darrius. That is where he comes from, from a line of tyrant kings who managed to maintain control of the country. No easy feat. His father and his father’s father. Until King Blake’s family, the Fabrianne dynasty, decided to unify all three kingdoms into one.”

“Prince Darrius is discontent with the manner in which the Fabrianne rule. His people are still disadvantaged, they have been exploited rather than gained from this unity. For their violent ways, they’ve been looked down upon as animals by both Dara and Haimati. There is no quick solution to something like that.”

“So Prince Darrius has persuaded his people to war and seeks to gain control of all the kingdoms, to become High King.” He looked towards Analia.

“Darrius is leading a rebellion against the King because he does not feel his people have been treated fairly. This Prince Blake believes Narda’s people are not worthy of more aid because they’re basically barbarians,” she summarized.

“From what Princess Kera - Lord Blake’s sister - has told me it isn’t the case that Blake doesn’t care, but rather that their father has only just passed away. Lord Blake is the King of old Dara but has not yet been crowned King of the entire kingdom. Really, they should have chosen another name to go by, rather than Dara, when unifying.” He gave a soft sigh.

“So I suppose he’s technically still Prince Blake. I have obviously spent too much time around the lot. But, it seems he does intend to do things differently than his father. Or so he proclaims. Prince Blake feels that the people of Narda are too proud to accept help or to prosper without helping themselves, so to speak. This is what I’ve come to understand, but before I’d been taken into his care, it seemed to me as it seems to many that he simply does not care about the Narda people’s plight. I can’t say what is true, only that I’ve heard both.” Ana nodded to Sadrik’s explanation.

“I suppose I understand the politics of what’s going on here. It’s a lot different than the war I came from... What does that mean for us? You and me. Does this Darrius hold onto us as long as he sees some sort of use, then disposes of us?”

“So it seems.” A deeply apologetic tone rung through his words. “And for the moment I’m drained. I can do very little to help you and I don’t know how to send you back even if I had my strength. I still don’t understand how it was you came here in the first place. Or where you came from.” Though his feelings were sincere, there was an undeniable spark of curiosity in his gaze.

“What is it like? Your world,” Sadrik asked.

Her eyes, which had turned down at the mention of being unsure of how to send her home, returned to meet his gaze. There were a few moments of silence as she thought about how best to answer that question. She had seen so little of this world and so far, what she had seen had mostly been violent and terrifying. That wasn’t very unlike the world she had lived in until… how long had it been? Several days or only one or two? She was already losing track of time.

“Different. I think we’re more advanced in terms of technology, at least from what I’ve seen. There’s a war raging, but we don’t use swords and flails. Well, soldiers don’t. I lost my weapon when I came through or I would show you.” A deep sigh escaped her. How did one really compare worlds?

“The war has been going on forever, that’s what people say. About five hundred years, though not on the scale it’s raging now. Magic users against non.”

“Magic users against non-magic users? Really? So everyone who uses magic is pit against everyone who isn’t?”

“There are small factions of magic users who are not aligned with others of their kind. The magic users are small in number, but powerful. For a long time the war was less active fighting and more small attempts, little attacks here and there. Terrorism on both sides. Claims for territory in third world countries and propaganda. About ten years ago, the people in my country elected a new leader. He drew lines in the sand and declared an all-out war. That’s when things really heated up, when the fighting really started.”

“Then... you’re not on the side of magic?” Ana shook her head.

“I’m not a soldier anymore, but everything I know about magic users is destructive, scary. I fought on the side of non-users.” At the mention, her hand rose and pressed over the right side of her chest, rubbing the spot thoughtfully. The wound that had taken her out of the fight once and for all, now long healed and nothing more than a circular scar.

“It’s different here,” he promised. “It’s different. Magic and non-magic, we live together and work together, no matter whose side we’re on. It’s not perfect but fighting isn’t the only thing we can do. Magic is a tool. Neither good nor bad. Like any tool.” His tone was earnest and his expression matched. But Ana felt very little of the intended comforting effect his words had.

“Yes. Instead, you have flail wielding barbarian rebels who like to smash people’s heads in. I certainly traded up.” Her tone was harsh, accusing. She turned away from him, trying her best to ignore the pang of guilt that struck her like an arrow - oh, great, she was already using metaphors to match the world - and drew a deep breath. It was not a battle she was going to win.

“I’m sorry. I’m usually much friendlier than this,” she apologized. Sadrik waved it off.

“It’s alright. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you. The first opportunity I see, I’ll find a way to get you to someone who might know how to get you back. The man who trained me. He’ll be able to keep you safe - or at least out of the way of both Prince Blake and Prince Darrius. If we really are heading towards Areli, I should have my strength back by then. At least enough to make some kind of distraction...” He trailed off as he began to think of ways to accomplish this and stay true to his word.

“Thank you. That’s kind of you,” she said, stepping back in his direction, crossing her arms. Perhaps he was right, magic users were different here. He certainly seemed kind hearted, caring, unlike any user she had met before. “I can’t see that I’m of any value to these people. You seem to know whom you’re dealing with. Any suggestions on how to keep myself alive would be much appreciated.”

“I guess that depends on Prince Darrius. Stay close, keep quiet and make yourself as useful as possible. Those are my philosophies.”

“Maybe I should take up the flail,” Ana mused.

1 note · View note

wheremusestread · 11 years ago

Photo

And no room for anything else!

52K notes · View notes

wheremusestread · 11 years ago

Text

Blood & Steel Episode Two - The First Night

The First Night

It was hours before they stopped. The horses were tired and soaked in sweat. They all were but the night had gone by quickly. They’d passed their checkpoints safely and as per the plan, two pairs had stopped at different times to work on covering their trail as much as possible while the others rode on. At some point, the Healer had almost fallen off his horse. That answered the earlier question of who had produced the spell strong enough to fill the guard post with green light. One the weariness had finally caught up they had strapped him to the beast and continued riding.

It was easier for him to see them in the light thrown down between branches than it had been in the chaos of escaping and riding. Primarily the moonlight, now that it was up in the sky properly, had gotten brighter. Taking advantage of this, he studied them for a moment. A strange looking woman and a man who was clearly struggling to stay awake. The more unusual of the two - the female - had hair the likes of which he’d never seen. It appeared to be some shade of red, which he’d only seen on beasts. Her skin was fair, as if it had never seen sun and her gaze was eerily pale, eyes grey and almost silver in the moonlight. With a scowl he tossed the blanket at her.

The blanket caught her by surprise. Though her instincts were telling her to stay focused, she just couldn’t tear her eyes away from the night sky. It wasn’t... right. Nothing was where it should be and the moon looked strange, different. Very different. No face of a man but the snarl of a wolf carved into its side. Even the constellations were new - she could find none of the familiar shapes the stars had once outlined. This time when she brought her grey back down she found the red ones of the commander less than two feet in front of her. That honed her focus in very sharply.

“What are your names?,” he asked gruffly, as much a demand as a question. A brow rose on her forehead and she glanced towards the other prisoner - the Healer. Names? He wanted to know their names?! After everything that had happened to her this evening, her name hardly seemed relevant.

“I don’t know who he is and I’m not really sure what the hell is going on! Where am I?” Ana demanded. In responde, Darrius scowled and leaned down, backhanding her hard enough to make her teeth rattle. As she stumbled back, he grabbed the collar of her jacket and pulled her up and towards himself, blazing eyes locked on hers furiously. For a moment he held her this way, Ana staring up at him with shock and confusion and pain, eyes wide and frightened. The red-eyed man was unblinking, like he could read the name he’d asked for in the depths of her gaze. Yet when he tossed her back towards the ground in frustration a few moments later, he did not repeat his question.

“S- Stop. It’s Sadrik. My name is Sadrik,” the Healer protested quietly. Ana pushed herself up onto one elbow, amazed by the sudden violence and the mounting fear this situation was building in her chest. Hands tied, face aching from the sudden explosion of the back of his hand against her cheek, world around her confusing and making no sense. She was grateful when the commander shifted closer to Sadrik, momentarily freeing her of his demanding gaze.

“Sadrik. I’ll have words for you tomorrow.. and if you’re as uncooperative as the woman, it may well be an execution.” Snarling out this warning, Darrius turned and walked away without a second glance to either of them. Abrupt, dramatic exit - he clearly liked his flare.

Sadrik’s head dropped forward out of clear and utter exhaustion.

“Are you.. alright..?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admitted, hating the way she could feel emotion swelling up inside her. It was the shock of it all that was getting to her, not the slap or the rough treatment, but the damn moon. One moment she’d been standing in her bedroom with her gun drawn, certain she could hear someone talking, and the next she’d been falling over a stone circle and puking up the Chinese food she’d had for lunch. Without a moment to spare, these men had burst in, killed people, kidnapped her, and now she seemed to be hostage to some sort of strange, barbarian type group that used swords and flails and axes instead of guns!

Speaking of guns, she’d also lost her's somewhere along the way.

Gathering herself onto her knees, she picked the blanket up out of the dirt and moved up next to the stranger - Sadrik. He was in the room when she appeared, was dressed in the same sort of strange clothing as these men, maybe he knew more about what was going on than she did.

“I don’t understand what’s happening?”

“I.. I’m sorry.. I’ll do my best to explain but I honestly don’t understand why you’re here or how it happened.. It’s.. my fault, though. I was using a spell I shouldn’t have.. The Prince had me captive. Er, not exactly but I wasn’t being allowed freedom, either.” He groaned softly and his head fell back. So weary and clearly almost as confused as she was.

“Something went wrong," he went on, "that’s why you’re here. We came from an outpost. A guards post. That’s where the Prince was. He’ll be king soon, unless these rebels kill him. Which is what I imagine they were trying to do when the spell sent of a burst of light and put everyone on alert.” He groaned again, this one louder and out of dismay. Unless he got his strength back soon, they were bound to kill him for interrupting their attempt on the Prince's life.

“Magic,” Ana muttered, her voice was low and shaky as she said the word. Afraid of the word. She dropped the blanket around Sadrik’s lap in an attempt to bring him some level of comfort, but she couldn’t deny that the reminder of his alignment with magic put yet another pang of terror through her heart. Where she had come from, the magic users were trying to kill them, waging war on the entire planet.. but not this planet? At least not if the moon had anything to say about it - she was clearly somewhere else entirely. God this was so confusing. Regardless, he’d yet to be anything but kind to her and if that slap was any indication, these barbarian types had no intention of befriending or helping her. He was, as it were, her only ally.

“Get some rest, you clearly need it. You can barely hold your own head up. We’ll try to figure out what happened in the morning... Assuming none of these people kill us before then," Ana suggested.

“Come,” he insisted, spreading the blanket out and pausing only to gesture her closer. There was a moment of hesitation from Ana, but she relented and scooted next to Sadrik. It was already chilly out and the night would only grow colder.

“If this is some sort of ridiculous training exercise, I’m putting in my resignation.”

“...Don’t try to run," he warned quietly, whispering the words to her. "Not unless you have magic of your own. Great magic. They will kill you.”

“Lord Blake, we lost them.”

The king-to-be glared out the window and into the night. He said nothing and soon enough, the incompetent guard took the silence as dismissal. As he exited the chamber, a young woman stepped closer to the Prince. They looked so much alike that it was not only obvious they were siblings, but they were often mistaken as being twins. Brunette, green eyes, fair features, white robes and an alignment with Light - she was a year younger than the Prince.

“They can’t stay hidden forever.”

“No..,” he agreed, still staring into the heavens. “We’ll see them again soon enough. They’re always in the capital, their base must be near it. Yet, how kind of them to follow us all the way to an outpost..” Frustrating that they had stolen the Healer. He wondered if they would kill him. It seemed fairly clear to him that this had not been their intention but because of the Healer’s spell, they’d been drawn to take the other man. So then, Darrius had come for he and his sister? It was the only plausible theory he could come up with and didn’t bother to question further.

“Perhaps they’re growing desperate,” Kera suggested. “Why would they take Sadrik?”

“Rage, I expect. He ruined their plans.” He turned slowly to let his eyes rest on hers. A moment later he offered her his hand. Both of hers wrapped around his. “So I suppose I owe him my thanks.”

“They will express their gratitude for ruining their plans. The poor man.. What was he doing? That was powerful magic.”

“Trying to escape, I would guess,” he said. “He’s compliant and pleasant enough but he has no alliance in this. Unfortunate for him. That spell probably took a lot out of him and it seems to have done him no good. Unless his intention was to summon them.” His face was still as he spoke, unamused, distracted, worried yet at this he raised a brow. It was almost funny enough to make him chuckle. That couldn’t have been Sadrik's intention. The Healer was a peaceful man, if nothing else. A Healer to the core. Summoning the rebels, of all things, contradicted everything for which he stood.

“He took most of his things with him, so he was prepared to leave, at least. Whatever spell he was casting, it appears he took it with him. Perhaps we’ll never know what he was up to..” Blake concluded. Kera shook her head gently.

“And now the fool will suffer at the hands of those people. Those rebels. Darrius.” With each phrase, her voice grew colder, harsher, more hateful. “Will we move at first light as planned, or has this shifted things for us?”

“No, nothing has changed. Their plans were spoiled, not ours.” His thumb stroked the back of one of her hands gently, an attempt to be comforting and calming. “Were you afraid?”

“For you. For what they had planned for you.” Blake smiled a little at that.

“I saw him. Just down the hall from me. Before he turned tail and ran. He can’t kill me. Not with the Gods on our side. You have nothing to fear.”

“There is still much to fear,” she argued, filling her lungs with air. She held it for a moment, then released it in a sigh. “The sooner we get back to the capitol, the safer you will be. The more secure your place on the throne. Once you’re King, this war will lose its flame.”

With a slow but persistent tug, he pulled her against his side and hugged her with one arm. He did not agree with her. If Darrius had things his way, he would have to crush the man to crush the flame and possibly before he was crowned. The people needed to see a strong hand, especially those from the south and east, where Narda, Darrius' country, once stood. Those people, Darrius’ people, they were the ones who needed to be handled with an iron fist. And if that is what they required, he would provide it.

“It seems they rode to the East. Towards the heart of Dara. We’ll find them soon. And put an end to his brutality. Such a man is not fit to lead anyone in VeyVila. Once others see that, he’ll lose his campaign. The Gods are with us,” he said a bit softer. “They will soon see.”

Several times throughout the night Sadrik woke. Not of his own choosing but because, he found, he was very unpopular amongst the rebels. After the third time of receiving a kick to his legs that jarred him awake, he looked groggily up into the face of the woman who had forced him on her horse earlier that night.

“How long you think you can go without sleep?,” she sneered. He knew the answer to the question but he also knew better than to provide it for her. His response was merely to meet her eyes and hold her gaze until she lashed out at him again. Another kick but she moved off for the time being. It was her turn to keep guard, apparently.

Such was the way of the rest of his night. If it wasn’t her, it was someone else until he couldn’t fall back to sleep without twitching, expecting the next strike. They didn’t camp for long, however, so he didn’t have to endure it much more. Sooner than he liked and sooner than the sun had risen, they were on the horses and moving again. The pace was only slightly less intense than it had been on their initial run.

It wasn’t until almost midday, just before it, that they stopped. With their speed, he would have guessed they were now about two days worth of normal riding away from the outpost from which he and Ana had been taken. Two days closer to the capitol, for they had been going East and away from the coast, when they slowed their pace. The route they took became more circuitous, winding, confusing.

They ate while riding and pressed the horses until they arrived. Where, he couldn’t be sure. It seemed they’d just stopped at a stand of massive trees, the middle of the forest, and he could see no man-made structures of any kind.

Off the horses, the soldiers in black lead the prisoners across what appeared to be an empty part of the forest. Ana never even thought to look up. At least not until she found herself standing at the base of a narrow set of stairs, circling around a massive tree and leading up into the canopy. What she saw at the top of the winding staircase was shocking.

High above the forest floor there were huts built around the trees, narrow and swinging walkways made of what looked like wood and rope connecting one hut to the next. They lead from hut to hut like the streets of a city. The structures themselves were surprisingly large and sturdy looking from here - centered around a tree, they extended evenly on all sides. It looked like an entire village built in the highest part of the massive trees, far above the dangers that surely lurked on the forest floor. Dangers such as the people these men were running from.

A wide hand pressed against Ana’s back, urging her onto the stairs without leaving room for argument. She complied, seeing no other option, and began to climb. It took several exhausting minutes to reach the top, and from there they had quite a distance yet to walk. Over two of the swinging walkways - which creaked beneath the weight of so many travelers, but held firm - and into one of the smaller huts the village had to offer. There were buckets of water stacked to one side, some food, blankets, even a table - though no chairs - and glassless windows, except, unlike the other huts these had been boarded over to leave little room for viewing what was happening outside. If any. More to the point, to make it more difficult for prisoners to escape.

The door slammed and locked behind Ana and Sadrik, leaving the pair alone. For the next several hours, that’s exactly where they remained. Sadrik freed their hands of their bindings and promptly passed out on a pile of blankets. Ana paced for quite some time, examining each of the windows for any chance of either viewing her surroundings or finding a way to escape. The few cracks she found showed her little more than trees. Miles and miles of trees. The boards over the windows were nailed into place firmly, though she did tug at more than one to attempt loosening it. No success. Even the door was locked securely and the one time she’d tried to open it, a guard had slammed a fist against the wood, sending her back in surprise.

No escape.

At some point, Ana too fell asleep, though she couldn’t be certain how much time had passed before she laid down, and when she was suddenly jarred awake by the hut door slamming open, she wasn’t certain how long she had been asleep, either.

Their red-eyed captor filled the doorway. The door closed behind him.

“Wake him,” he commanded, arms crossed. Ana’s hand lifted, pushing the hair out of her eyes and away from her face, then she looked down at Sadrik. He’d been asleep for hours, exhausted, trying to regain some the the strength he had lost bringing her into this world. She hated how bad she felt for him. He was a magic user, one of the enemy where she came from, evil, and he was responsible for her current situation. But he had been nothing but kind to her and in a world where she was apparently prisoner, friends were in short supply. She gave him a gentle squeeze to the shoulder, then a shake.

“Sadrik..”

Darrius watched with a firm expression but seemed pleased that this time she’d done as she was told without taking any foolish liberties. Like asking questions. How dare she. The man woke, groggy and confused but quickly enough he gathered what was going on and sat up next to her.

“Who are you?,” Darrius commanded, this time towards Ana. His tone said that he no more wished to repeat himself now than he had yesterday. Ana and Sadrik exchanged a glance, the Healer’s expression saying it all - she needed to answer. Ana swallowed, fighting the urge to ignore every request this man made the way she had been trained in the Army, and instead locked her eyes on Darrius. Shoulders relaxing, air escaping from her lungs, she nodded to herself. Yes, complying was a better option at this point - it wasn't as if her former brothers in arms would be sweeping in to rescue her anytime soon.

“Analia Stone. F.E.D.”

“What is that?,” Sadrik asked timidly after a moment of silence during which they could both sense the growing irritation of the man standing before them. She turned her eyes to the Healer briefly. Darrius stood close, looming over them, asserting his dominance non-verbally.

“Federal Investigator. I investigate non-war, magic related crimes.”

“For Blake?,” Darrius asked through another growl. It seemed like everything he said, even when it was a question, was a very angry statement, an accusation, an order.

“No, she- ” Sadrik received a swift boot to the face and was sent sprawling backwards with a soft cry of surprise and pain for his interruption. Ana jumped, fighting every instinct in her body to either help him, or retaliate against Darrius.

“Be silent,” the red-eyed man snapped. “I was not asking you.” His eyes turned back to Analia. She met his gaze.

“I don’t know who that is.”

Darrius growled again, like an animal, then stepped forward and lifted her by the collar of her clothes to his eye level. For a moment he glared into her face no differently than he had before. This time, however, when he was finished searching for the truth in her eyes he set her down, rather than tossing her back. Her balance was unsteady for a few moments before she caught herself, looking up at Darrius with even more surprise - somehow, she had expected everything he did to be an act of violence.

“Explain to me,” he barked harshly, “how you can be in the watchtower of a man you don’t know. In a locked and guarded room, no less.”

With a soft groan Sadrik sat up, hand to his face yet unable to hide the blood that trickled down his chin. In spite of this, when he looked up at Darrius there was no anger in his face nor any more fear than before. While he waited for a response, Darrius paced across the room to the single table, then pulled it across the floor and sat on it in front of them, arms crossed. His blazing red eyes trained on Analia.

She was pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to bring back the sense of focus she’d had a few hours ago, when they’d first locked them in this hut. That sense of survival, of trying to find an escape. Now she felt dazed and groggy from the broken up sleep and even more confused than she’d been on the not-quite-horse ride through the night. The whole situation was extremely frustrating and the fact that she couldn’t express that feeling openly only made it feel worse.

“I don’t know. I was home one moment in this damn place the next. A moment later you people came in, then I was a hostage. I don’t know how I got here or where this place is.”

Unimpressed with her answer, Darrius snarled.

“Prince Darrius, please, she’s telling the truth.” He received another boot, this time to the stomach. Ana immediately took a step towards the Prince, his firey gaze watching as if curious what she might do, but she t stopped herself short. This was not the way to mount a defense - not when she was trapped in a tree-village and surrounded by the enemy and unfamiliar with the landscape.

Hunched forward and holding his middle as he wheezed, Sadrik noted Darrius relaxing onto the table once more. He had interrupted and for that he was punished but the Prince was watching him now, waiting for him to get his breath back, to explain. Gasping and struggling to do so as quickly as he could manage, he used a hand to stabilize himself against the floor, looking up at him with earnest.

“She’s not.. She may not even be from VeyVila, as far as I can tell, she’s not. She appeared in that room. The spell.. it was too old, too strong. I lost control.” He groaned, a feeling of nauseum overwhelming him. Darrius’ eyes turned to her again, wider, more interested, as though trying to ingest her with his eyes alone. As if sucking her into himself could explain her to him.

“And you? What’s your story?,” Darrius mocked the Healer.

“Sadrik Telem, Prince. I am a Healer. Lord Blake- ”

“Keeping you for insurance.. Out of fear. A wise move on his part but all the Healers in the Vey couldn’t keep him alive. Not when I come for him..”

‘Then you weren’t after him last night? What were you after?,’ Sadrik thought.

“You’re obviously a powerful mage. I felt your magic last night. After ruining months of planning, you can be sure I intend to make full use of you.” A snarled promise. “Give up your loyalty to Blake now. It won’t do you any good here. For now, you have your things, your bow and your arrows.. Incite me to change my mind and you’ll rue the day you clawed out of your mother’s belly.”

“I have no loyalty to Lord Blake,” Sadrik interrupted again - in a soft tone - boldly or stupidly or stubbornly. “I was as much his prisoner as I am now yours.”

“A pacifist Healer. What a surprise.” Darrius turned as he shifted the table out of his way roughly, sparing no scorn in his words, yet his eyes returned to Analia briefly as the door closed behind him, filled with curiosity.

Darrius crossed several walkways, bright eyes turning this way and that, meeting the gazes of the rebels, his people. They nodded or bowed to him, some just stood and watched. He returned no gesture but met as many of their eyes as possible. Each one was important to the cause. Man, woman, child, it didn’t make any difference. They were all here, putting their lives on the line and every one contributed to the work that needed to be done. Though this stop had not been in their plans originally, he was glad to have the chance to make it.

* Picture by Ron Crabb

0 notes

wheremusestread · 11 years ago

Text

Blood and Steel - Episode One - "A Flash of Green"

Once more the healer checked the items he had gathered, the layout, and the diagram that had guided him thus far. The layout of the objects required made sense, however with regards to the spell itself, his confidence waned. It checked out with everything he knew and all his research but it was by no means a perfect fit. He had never tried it before, for one, but then there was the fact that it was archaic, ancient. It was also a type of magic with which he wasn’t aligned - as a healer, he was an Earth elementalist. This granted him no control over Space, the element the teleportation spell sought to control. There was a lot of room for error but desperate times... Everything looked right to him, each detail properly prepared.

Gathering a bucket as an excuse, he stepped out of the room to collect a pail of water from the fountain. It was a common and casual chore and therefore a great cover for what he was really doing - checking to see if there were any guards around or anyone who might wish to stop him.

Elsewhere in the fort - a guard tower at an outpost and not an especially satisfying one - a brunette with pale green eyes paced as he thought. The spires of a white crown on his head, white scabbard at his waist, white gloves, white boots, all stood out against the night. He was completely clad in the bright hue, as suited both his royal station and his magical inheritance, the power of Light. He bore his position with pride and determination, written on his face. He was fair featured apart from his hair, a fact that didn’t detract from the clear curtness of his expression. Even the stones passing underfoot received the same look, as though he had high expectations for each and every one.

The soon-to-be King of Dara. The wide circle his feet had wandered lost its appeal and he stopped abruptly with a hand on the balustrade. At some point, the sun had given up the sky. He’d failed to notice. Now when he looked up, his eyes found the stars of the heavens casting their gentle, comforting white light down on him.

How? How could he make the people see? Give them faith again? Faith in the dynasty that they had all but lost during the end of his father's reign?

The coast was as clear as it would ever be and the Healer could hope for no better. Without further ado, he returned to his chambers, propped a chair against the handle of the door to buy himself a few extra moments if anyone tried to disturb him, and began the ritual.

The head of one of his arrows was stabbed into the floor, and then he sat at the edge of a circle of stones he’d laid out. The circle was intersected by six smaller circles: five evenly disbursed around it, and one circle in the very center. The six of them representing the six elements: Time and Space, Light and Dark, Earth, Water, Fire and lastly, Air. At the center of it all: a small puddle of his blood and the arrow. Cross legged, he started to concentrate, channeling his magic into the arrowhead - which took great focus since he did not have direct contact with the object - and began to read the long incantation.

“Wait.” A rough voice snapped impatiently while the man from whom it came threw an arm out and roughly catching the man beside him at the chest. Fortunately, the woman to his right side was more perceptive and paused immediately, rather than requiring an obstacle. All five warriors and their leader were dressed head to toe in black. Their clothes were ragged, patched in some places, ratty at the edges and tucked into worn boots, fading shades of black.

The man who’d called them to halt with a harsh, authoritarian tone, their leader, was looking up. Not just up the stairs, but up at the ceiling above, the tops of the walls around them. Their eyes began to follow as they stood, just in the shadows of the stairwell. His followers were silent but there were obviously questions in their eyes.

“Prince Darrius?” He said nothing nor did he offer explanation. Darrius didn’t fully understand but he felt a prickling at the most distant edges of his senses, something tugging. Magic. Strong magic. A spell. Did the bastard Prince know they were coming? A snarl came over his fierce features.

“Change of plans.”

From the corner of his eye, the Healer could see the head of the arrow change color, glow a bright green as his voice persisted, twisting around the ancient words, giving them life again for the first time in so long. They fought with him, he could feel them churning, writing, struggling to break free of his magic and sleep again. He persisted, afraid but excited. He could do it, he knew he could, even as he felt the swell of power growing behind the spell. He had more, he had enough, he had to believe that or he would lose control.

Turning them around, the warriors piled into a large supply closet off the steps. Darrius stood nearest the door, listening as footsteps came and went.

“My lord, we can’t stop now. We can-”

“Shut your mouth!,” Darrius commanded, a quiet retort but giving expression to the shortness of his temper. “We’re changing our goal. Changing our tactic.. Be silent.” This last, they could all easily tell, was pensive, thoughtful. He was planning. Quickly.

A strike of panic pierced the Healer’s heart. He pushed it away and threw himself into the teleportation spell with greater force. He had to try to escape or he would be bound to the Prince of Dara as the war escalated - choosing sides was not an option for a true healer, nor did he feel called to live or die by the whims of men whose minds circulated on politics and economics and other abstractions of the lives they ruled over.

He was giving more of himself to the old magic, yes, but also taking a firmer hold on the words as they attempted to squirm out of his control. At last, the end of the incantation. Yet, nothing happened, leaving him grappling with a powerful spell that still wanted to buck his orders. One. last. push. He strained himself, his eyes suddenly snapped open, glowing the same green color that twined into the design of the arrow head. Distantly, he heard a roar, then the room flashed and finally he felt a huge pressure lift off of him.

Dropping forward, breathing heavily, he felt the light in his eyes fade. Only now did he realize that the cry he’d heard had come from his own voice. He whipped his head around, gaze fixing on the door. Damn! Someone would come, called by the flash of light or his voice, and his attempt to transport himself to another part of the world had failed. His legs felt weak under him and he tried to stand too quickly. Dizzy and drained, he stumbled upright, looking around the room. He had to.. to pack. To get out as soon as possible... A foolish notion. He was a prisoner. They would come to end him for his escape attempt.

***

The key turned, the lock shifted, but the latch wouldn’t release. She pressed her hip into the door and tried to put more weight into the key, but that only seemed to make it worse. If she kept going like this she would end up breaking the key in the lock before she ever got the door open. Sighing in frustration, the FED officer stepped away from the door, gave it a firm kick – just to remind it who the boss was – then inserted her key and tried again. This time the lock worked and the door pushed open easily.

“That’s right, obey,” Ana whispered, grinning at the door as if it had just succumb to her mighty power. She adjusted the cloth bag in her arm and closed the door behind her with a push of her foot, practically stomping up the steps to her apartment. She could hear the sounds of her neighbors going about their lives as she passed each of the doors on the way up, the sounds of television sets and voices leaking into the hallway. She did her best to ignore all of them until she reached her door - 507. This lock worked fine and she had no trouble getting inside the small, one bedroom.

After a week like the one she’d just finished, after a case like the one she and her partner had just closed, there was only one goal on Ana’s mind: a long bath. Maybe a couple glasses of wine and some bad television afterwards, but first the bath. She set the bag of groceries on the counter, rubbed her hands along the back of her neck and shoulders, and closed her eyes for a moment. Stress tended to gather in the muscles of her neck, making her feel tight and causing headaches. What she really needed was a good massage, something long and relaxing with someone who had warm hands and really knew what he or she was doing. That sounded nice.

Sighing, Ana dropped her hands and looked around for the remote.

“New reports today from attacks in London, England. The Coalition of Magic has claimed responsibility for the attack on Tower Bridge, which left dozens dead and nearly a hundred people wounded. Local authorities claim they have recalled troops from their efforts in Spain to defend the Capital against the enemy.

Meanwhile, here in the States, the President is rumored to be deliberating new penalties for magic use within our borders. An announcement is scheduled for later in the week revealing their plans, but this nationwide-” Ana muted the TV. More news about the war against magic users. More laws. Nothing unexpected. The laws would fall into FED jurisdiction and she would end up having to take some three day long seminar covering what they mean, how to enforce them, and what new restrictions or freedoms she as an agent might have. Shaking her head, Ana removed her badge and set it on the counter. Then she froze.

Slowly, grey eyes looked around the apartment. It appeared empty. She could hear traffic from outside, the steps of the people living in the apartment above her, doors opening and closing down the hall.. but those weren’t the sounds that called her attention and put a sudden, twisting, knotted feeling in the pit of her stomach.

***

A flash of green from deeper within the fortress. The brown haired Prince frowned. That wasn’t his imagination. He searched for its origin but found no further sign or indication. Whirling around on the balcony, he stormed back into the room from whence he’d come and searched for a soldier, a guard, a servant. Anyone who might be able to take orders or give him information, but he found no one in the meeting chamber. Hand at the hilt of his pale sword and intention in his eyes, he strode into the attached corridor to continue his search. That green light.. An earth element. A spell!

***

A voice. To Ana, it sounded almost like it was coming from the other side of the wall, but this was a corner apartment. The only wall she shared was along the bathroom and bedroom, not the kitchen. She turned slowly, scanning the open layout of the apartment once more, then reached under her coat and pulled the gun from her shoulder holster. A compact, semi-automatic .45 pistol. Not a service weapon but a personal choice and one she had always felt comfortable using on duty or off.

The voice was growing louder, or whatever it was. Maybe the people downstairs were watching television with a ridiculous speaker setup turned way too high? Still, better safe than dead. She started a sweep of the apartment, movements she knew well but had never performed in her own home. The kitchen was clear, so she moved into the living room, keeping her gun in front of her with the muzzle lowered. The couch was empty, television was still on mute, the balcony was clear, she moved to the left and towards the bedroom door, glancing briefly into the small bathroom - no one there. The bedroom was dark and the curtains were drawn shut. She slapped one hand against the switched and flipped the light on. Nothing. Closet empty, no one under the bed, no one behind the door. Where the hell was th-

A bright flash of green light blinded her. She instinctively brought her arms up to shield herself, crossed over her face in the shape of an X, gun pointing uselessly upwards. It felt as if something was sucking all the air out of the room, turning the heat up, and at the same time dropping her several floors, like an elevator line had snapped. All of this in a matter of seconds, but Ana could clearly feel the ground planted beneath her feet. She could smell something odd, out of place, nothing like the usual smell of her apartment or even the city itself.

The light was gone. She dropped her arms and brought her gun up, squinting in an attempt to see around what appeared to be a very dimly lit room, or perhaps that was just her eyes shocked by the brightness of whatever had just happened. She spun on her heels, amazed she was still on her feet, then immediately stumbled as she realized how incredibly dizzy she’d become. She tripped over something that felt an awful lot like a stone? Several stones, rocks scattered across the floor, a fact she discovered as she fell across them. Her gun was sent flying out of her hand at the impact, bounced, then slid across the room.

Ana’s eyes were finally starting to adjust, but only enough to let her clearly see that she was no longer in her apartment. How was that even possible? To be standing in her bedroom one moment and to be in a strange place the next? She had expected to find herself in rubble, the apartment building having fallen victim to some sort of explosion or attack, but an intact room? Even with the stones on the floor she didn’t see any immediate dam-

“Ah!- AH!” The healer jumped, almost tripped as he tried to put as much distance between himself and the woman, shocked out of his mind and confused. He’d almost forgotten about the spell in his rush to pack and escape and the second flash of light had blinded him briefly.

“Wha- Who- How did you get here?!” he shouted. Ana ignored him as the dizziness continued to persist. Where was she? No idea. How did she get here? Equal lack of knowledge on that one. Slowly, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, red hair falling across her shoulders and creating a veil around her face. One hand risked her balance to raise, knowing the familiar, twisting feeling in her stomach was indicating one very specific thing was about to happen, and carefully pushed all of her hair over one shoulder, then held it away as she released her lunch across what she was realizing was not a pile of stone, but a carefully crafted set of circles.

Wrapping her hand around one, she focused on the coolness of it to fight the feeling of nausea rising up for a second time. It took a moment, but the feeling began to fade enough that Ana once more became aware of the man in the room. He was shifting on his feet, muttering something, and though she wasn’t looking at him, she could practically feel his shock at her presence.

That makes two of us, buddy.

She heard something drop out of his hand and suddenly, he was at her side, hands around her arms and helping her carefully to her feet. The way he lifted her made it clear that he was strong, but he made the move so incredibly gently that it took a few seconds of looking at him before the alarms started going off in her head. She was in a strange place, for no reason that made any sense, with a strange man, and were those the sounds of.. battle outside?

A firm, sudden step back was about as much retreating as she could manage at the moment, examining the man before her with scrutiny. He was tall, broad form, strong build with long, raven black hair pulled behind him in a low, neat ponytail. Tired looking, for certain, but possessing brilliantly green eyes. His skin was a bronze color, browned not only by the sun and work outdoors but by his natural complexion. Though he was alarmed, frightened, there was a kindness to his face and even a calm to his presence. Mouth still gaping slightly at her sudden appearance, he managed to look concerned for her, if incredibly nervous. The expression was oddly comforting.

“Ah.. uhm.. S- sorry, Miss, are you alright?” he asked hastily as his eyes looked to the door. A quick, panicked glance.

Darrius swore and threw open the closet door. Someone had cast a spell, a strong one. Strong enough to send off a flare of brilliant light. They might as well have lit a beacon! Time cut short, plans thrown into chaos, the one thing they had now was the element of surprise. He absolutely meant to make that work to their advantage but he had half a mind to kill whomever had ruined his careful plan and even more intent than even that to snare whomever had enough power to pull something like that off - if, in doing so, they hadn’t killed themselves.

For a moment she seemed perfectly stable, then she leaned forward again and wrapped both hands around his arms to steady her balance. Stomach clenched and she thought she was going to get sick again, this time all over the man helping her, but once more the feeling and the dizziness passed. Vaguely, about as clearly as she remembered everything else from the last two minutes of her life, she thought she could remember this guy shouting in surprise at about the same time she came spilling into this room. Everything from the moment she’d raised her gun in her apartment had blurred together into a strange haze of images, sounds, and feelings, making her feel all the more confused by her situation.

The room. Grey eyes shifting around, taking in the stone walls and ceiling, the wood framed bed that looked more like a cot than anything else, the wooden door, the clothing he was wearing - it looked like something out of a renaissance festival - the stones on the floor. It was the stones - more to the point, the way they appeared to be laid out in circles, albeit circles she had broken with her sudden entrance and staggering about - that made her suddenly retreat several steps from the man. The back of her knee found something - a chest - and she let it take her down, finding herself sitting on top of it.

It was so hard to think. To focus on anything, but those stones..

“You’re... magic. One of them.. no, I’m not part of the war.” The heels of her palms pressed hard into her eyes, rubbing, trying to bring focus.

“Wha-,” the healer began, but the door burst into the room along with a man whose head had been smashed open. So much for the chair buying the Healer some time. Blood and little bits of hair and skull spattered as battering-ram-man fell to the stone floor, red staining his white uniform. Quickly and with shock, the Healer and Ana both looked up and out of the room. They could see the guards in white fighting men in black - with swords, were those seriously swords?! If Ana was confused before, now she was utterly lost.

The Healer paused a second longer but quickly gathered the bag he’d been packing, threw some more things into it, and then snatched up a long bow almost as tall as the man himself. A quiver of arrows was also strapped to his back. Frantically he looked around the room, searching for an exit he already knew didn’t exist. In the meantime, Ana was running her hand along the holster under her arm, searching for the gun she’d lost upon entering - however that had happened - this strange room. It wasn’t there. She began to scan the floor for her weapon, but her movements and her mind were working so slowly that it didn’t much matter.

How had she gotten here? More to the point, where the hell was here? Head buzzing too much to focus on a single question - where, how, gun, dead guy, swords - Ana pushed her hands against her brow and closed her eyes, focusing, focusing on getting her head together. When she opened them again, she found a broad hand extended towards her - the magic user. Was he offering to help her up, or did he expect her to run with him? If it was him or the sword-wielding, head-smashing guys in the hallway, he seemed like the lesser of two evils - even if he was a magic user. Reluctantly, her hand found his.

“Who was it?” A man’s voice entered the room before his body. An angry man with an angry voice, swinging a flail with a swirling pattern etched into it. It glowed yet it was dark, a shadow with a bright red edge. The pattern matched the black lines on his face, marks that twisted like roots in a symmetrical pattern on either side, framing his eyes and the strong, square jaw, down the sides of his neck. His eyes were a fierce shade of red, not at all unlike the spilled blood of the dead man on whom he practically stood as he entered the room. His hair, short cropped, was as dark as the night outside. Almost as tall as the man whose hand Ana held, his build was more stout to make up for the height he lacked - not that it was very much, he had to be six feet even, at least. With the dark clothes and the anger etched into every inch of his face, it was difficult to observe anything more about him - it overtook every feature.

Before either had a proper chance to answer the question, Darrius’ dangerous gaze snapped to the hall beyond and he quickly retreated from the room, only to advance on another poor guard who couldn’t hold up against the unpredictable and fast-moving, spiked melee weapon.

“Take them both!,” Darrius commanded, leaving it to his followers to retrieve the two within the room.

“I... Is that a.. flail?,” Ana asked her new companion, but rather than an answer she got two more of these odd, black clad soldiers storming into the room. One of them was sheathing a sword, the other using it to gesture to her that she should obey and follow without argument.

“And that’s definitely a sword... What the hell kind of game are you people playing?” Taking a step back instead of one forward, noting that her new magic-wielding-friend was not moving in either direction. The soldier who was waving his blade around stepped forward and took the the Healer by the arm, yanking him forward and out of the room without ceremony or concern for his continued health. Their hands separated with the movement. At the same time, the other soldier fixed his dark gaze on Ana.

“Be silent and come with us,” he said, looking at her with narrow, dark green eyes. His shoulders were broad, strong looking, the expression on his face stern and unrelenting. Like the commander, he was square shouldered and handsome, though with a terrifyingly intense gaze. His dark hair was short, shaved at the sides into patterns, and his skin was a deep tan color. The way he looked at her as as if she were the strangest looking creature he had ever seen was oddly amusing to Ana - he was the one with a sword, after all. God, she hoped this was some sort of weird role-playing game she had somehow stumbled upon.

Not interested in her hesitation, the man moved forward and wrapped a strong hand under her upper arm. Pulling her towards him more roughly than she’d expected and leading the way out of the room. The hallway beyond looked like something out of a movie. Signs of battle, more than one dead body, streaks and pools of blood marking their progress. It sent a chill through her heart as she and the magic user, who was immediately behind her, were lead through the fortress corridors.

Sneering down the hall as the red-eyed commander saw the would-be king approach, he was tempted to go after him in that very moment. Unfortunately, this night was not the night his life would end. Not like this. Not with so much chaos and his plan devastated by the strange spell. He spun and gave orders, then made progress to the rear, bringing up the tail end of his posse. The speed by which they moved was relentless. Down and out using the route they had designed at an earlier time, smashing their way through any guard unfortunate enough to be in the way, into the darkness and out to mounts waiting for them.

One of the women in the dark clad group doubled up on a horse with the man they’d stolen. He was big and he was armed with the bow, but she wasn’t deterred. Drawing a knife, she ordered him up first but was right behind him, impossible to shake, and put the blade at his side. If he pulled one false move or attempted to get away, he would be leaving with one less lung, no matter what happened to her. It was enough incentive for just about anyone to behave. Ana furrowed her brow, realizing very late that they were being abducted by these strange people. Damn, her mind was moving so slowly!

The horse Ana was led to was large.. no. It wasn’t a horse. It looked like a horse from a distance, but it was definitely something else entirely. The hair all over its body was too long and thick, its ears were rounded instead of pointed and stood on the sides of the creatures head, instead of the top. Giving it a rather comical face. Instead of dark brown eyes, the creature had light, almost white eyes and looked at her as if in judgement of her strange, pale skin and her bright red hair. Its feet were the oddest part - she could see the bottom had a layer of protection like a hoof, but it was divided into three points, like toes, with fierce looking claws at the end.

The soldier escorting Ana wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of paper. She cried in surprise as he dropped her on the creatures back. She caught her balance, then began to shift to leap off the other side of the horse, but before she had the chance he was mounting behind her, arms on either side of her attempted retreat, holding her firmly in place and around the waist.

“It would really be in your best interest not to fight at this point,” he offered, sounding strangely amused. In front of her, his large hands wrapped around the beasts reigns.

Though their leader with the vining tattoos marking his face and neck was the last out and the last to climb atop an almost-horse, he wasted no time in spurring the animal to action and took the lead. The stars mapped out the direction they were headed and within seconds they were beyond a hill and out of view of the fortress. They wore black, their ‘horses’ were black, they carried no lights. The night swallowed them as they made it past a covering of trees that protected them from the brilliant light of the stars and moon. Only the sound would give them away, but that faded quickly as they made their fast and well coordinated retreat onto softer soil. The Prince and his men had little chance of real progress in their attempted pursuit, not until morning when they could at least track the path their ‘horses’ trampled into the ground as they tore on.

It seemed the party was going to ride relentlessly through the night, but Ana’s eyes had found the sky and locked on with amazement. When she got a flash of what was above them through breaks in the trees, she thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. That whatever had pulled her into that room had messed with her memory, or her vision, but every time she saw it, it was the same. A strange, orange disk that was supposed to be the moon, but so incredibly different. The markings were not the same, there was no ‘man on the moon’, none of the peaks and craters that created the familiar design. Instead, it looked almost as if there was a wolf glaring down at her, his face clearly visible, teeth bared.

“That’s... not the right moon.” The man behind grunted, glanced up briefly, then shook his head and road on, silent, uninterested.

Foolish woman, of course it was the moon. What else would it be?

* Artwork by fan Gavin Fox

Did you enjoy the first episode! We hope so :) Want to get the second episode early? Sign up on our email list - link to the right. You'll get a preview for next weeks episode on Thursday and the full episode Sunday!

1 note · View note