haunted hawk
by Denna
She was following him.
He hadn't guessed on it, wouldn't have planned for it, but she was there, drifting at his back, spurring him on. Accusatory eyes burning holes in his back, laden with the pain of her, the sorrow and the anger.
Some part of him knew that he was probably imagining it, that she was about as real as the mirages supposedly at the Mirage Palace and more than partly made of fever, pain and the wound throbbing at his side. Even if the ghost was hovering behind him, she was unlikely to be as angry as she seemed--she'd given herself up freely to shadow. He didn't believe a half of it, half-mad mind scrabbling around the sharp edges of dark sanity to see just how--far--he could go, searching again for truth and forgiveness as the ghost of her lashed him with guilt and followed. She would always follow.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Navarre burned, as it had always, would always burn, thieves scattering frantically from their meeting, falling... He'd carry that brand forever, seeing his people falling. No matter how good, ninja-trained, ranger-trained or otherwise, they couldn't stand against the hail of arrows raining death through smoky firelit skies.
Her, shadow looming through the smoke as she ran. He'd killed her brother, yet she protected him. Maybe she regarded him her new brother, maybe... not. She rarely gave clues to what she--had been--thinking, save the time she'd mumbled his name in her dreams but she'd been hurt and half-delirious at the time. And falling, again falling, warm soft body impacting his with a thud and sending him sprawling to the ground.
The ghost seemed to call his name, drifting in a smokethin whisper.
He'd escaped when they were making sure of the dead. He hadn't even been able to take her with him. burdened with her body, he'd never have been able to slip free of the soldiers--thugs actually--thronging the area. So he'd slipped out like the thief he was, moving silently through the smoke like the ghost that trailed him now.
There had been no time to think. He'd gotten on the first ship to leave Sultan, which turned out to be heading for Maia. From Maia he'd fought his way to Byzel, and taken the first ship to Palo, with people staring at his bloodied, tattered figure with a bandaged side, and then headed straight up the nearest mountain, trusting in instinct and luck not to fall off a cliff face--not that he really didn't want to, not that much. Driven by guilt, blinded by rage, led by pain and trailed by grief, with thought shoved off the loop entirely, it was truly incredibly lucky for him not to have stumbled off the side of the mountain and come face to face with a horde of angry ghosts.
He'd failed them. Failed their trust, failed their care, failed their love. He'd led them--he was supposed to be their leader, goddess' sake--he could cast magic, he was the best-trained. He should have done something! But no, when the building had gone up in fire and smoke all he had done was run out, make a target of himself and stare. Stare, as his men fell all around him.
A wall loomed up in front of him, dark rock flashing angrily. Veering, he barely missed it, rock scraping against his side and exploding in a burst of pain. The path loomed in front of him, lit by flickering madness and reddish pain--he couldn't miss it. Real path or not, it didn't matter. It throbbed through his head, a line leading to--where? He didn't know. Graceful walk gone to staggers, wary, weary gone trying to watch everywhere at once, failing, and thus seeing nothing. His vision blurred and he stumbled--fell--
--fall forever, wind whipping his hair his clothing driving into his brain and her there--
--hitting a pair of soft arms, as his head hit something hard, wooden, round. Almost unconscious, he looked up, screaming voices stilling and he realized they were really screaming wind.
Blond hair fell in wisps around a tanned, hard face. Definitely female, with piercing blue eyes that were at the moment narrowed in confusion. Blond hair, falling down her back in a shimming, windwhipped waterfall, provided the background for the slender green-clad body.
He felt like drowning. The ghosts stilled.
List of Rolante blinked.
"Hawk?"
