Hey, made it to 50 stories on here before the New Year. :) Though marked Haplo/Alfred, it's mostly implied and can be interpreted as just friendship too, yay.
Written for Yuletide, playing on tropes because they're fun and that's about it! /flies away
Haplo was not a superstitious man -few of his people were- but storms were rare in the Nexus. There were occasional rainfalls, enough to nourish the trees well enough before surrendering back to the twilight. But the thunder had come by suddenly, a lightning bolt striking one of the tall towers. Patryns had been subjected to such storms in the Labyrinth, so they did not cause a panic, sensibly going back into their dwellings to wait out the rush.
Haplo remembered what Xar had taught him however- particularly the make-up of the Nexus and how it functioned, how the Sartan had arranged everything; from the density of the soil to the hues of the clouds. The magic suggested light rain, necessary rain, but never an all-out furious wind with it.
Marit noticed his discomfort. "You look like you just tasted some wolfen blood." She had always been creative in her comparisons.
"This isn't normal," Haplo answered. They had gathered back the rescued children from play (still so strange to see a child laugh, having never done so himself), bringing them indoors. Thunder rumbled through the ground, wind rushed past his ears.
"It's just rain. Since when do you get so worried over that?"
Both of them were soaking, the water sticking their shirt sleeves to their skin. Haplo lifted his hand, watched the trails slide across his knuckles, seeing the highlight of his runes give off a slight glow- the magic trying to dry him off. There had only been one time when water had made him this uneasy.
He had a sudden thought. "Where's Alfred?" He heard the rustling of pages, felt the hardwood of a desk beneath his hands. In the study.
"In the study," Marit gestured. "Buried in his books again."
"Good," Haplo said, wondering why he felt so relieved.
"For a moment," Alfred said, looking out the window, "I thought I was still on Drevlin and that everything after had only been a dream."
"Don't start getting sentimental on me now." Haplo pulled up a chair to Alfred's desk, frowning at the array of books and loose papers. A complete mess, with only the Sartan to know just how it was actually organized. He supposed he couldn't expect much from a man who could barely fold blankets properly. Stacking up papers was probably just as challenging.
"You fell asleep again, didn't you?" he accused.
"Yes," Alfred said with a hint of embarrassed red on his cheeks."It's just that these theories detailing the runic patterns of the old world are so fascinating that I forgot to go to bed last night. Like, this one about how the historian, Eira, first applied the mechanics of flight and how it could be altered depending on the air level. Her notes about the varying altitudes are some of the most detailed I've ever seen."
"Yeah, good." Haplo nodded, looking down at the desk.
Alfred paused. Usually, the Patyrn would have stopped him in mid-sentence, urging him to take a break or to "at least eat something." Letting him ramble on was highly unusual.
"My friend, is something bothering you?'
Haplo's fingers tapped against the paper. "The Sartan don't believe in omens, do they?"
It took Alfred only a moment to understand. "Do you mean the storm?"
Haplo smiled weakly. It was nice to not have to explain. "I'm not usually this nervous over weather."
"That might be because of me. I'm sorry."
"Don't-" Haplo stopped himself. No use in trying to break Alfred out of that habit. "Never mind. I'm just worrying over nothing anyway."
"There's probably an explanation for it," Alfred continued, sensing Haplo's nagging thoughts. "The Sartan broke things apart more than they fixed. I… remember that. Arianus was never meant to be so dry and scattered like it was. I would think the Nexus wasn't spared any of our mistakes as well."
"So you're saying the rain is just a defect? Wouldn't the revival of the great machine have fixed most of the issues?"
Alfred tilted his head, considering. "It would, but it would take time still."
That made sense. From Pryan's shining citadels to Arianus' machine, mending the continents together, the worlds were healing from the gods' mistakes. Even Abarrach would get better, eventually.
"I guess so," Haplo said, unconvinced.
Alfred saw right through him. "You don't believe me?"
He looked at the Sartan's face. There were not as many lines as there used to be, and he no longer looked so old. Any hesitance that was there was not the debilitating creature that it once was.
Alfred flushed a little, but only because the stare had lasted a while.
"It's not that," Haplo finally answered, feeling something nameless.
Without pause, Alfred shifted over to him at the table's right side. He grasped hold of both of his hands, his grip gentle. Haplo made no move of surprise, or flinch from the touch. He just closed his eyes in response, gripping back, letting out a slow breath as if he would fall asleep.
Sometimes, he would feel like he was taking a risk by doing this.
"I might just be tired," he whispered, his heart beating steady.
Joining the circle became more than just routine for them. It was a practicality turned meaningful, something that Alfred was grateful for, he was sure. The strongest of Patryn spells could speak to another's mind, but the heart was a different matter altogether. The Sartan could just move through his own easily enough, careful not to upset the patterns, sometimes trying not to read the secrets that were already laid bare. But Haplo could do so to him in turn, and equal share was always fair. They would walk through one another much more often, once every while now happening several times a week.
So when he wakes up, sometimes he remembers, bringing a piece with him that isn't his own. At first, it had been unsettling, but now he expects it, waiting for him in this new reality.
The circle-joining was comfort, something that Alfred knew he needed.
"Thanks, Coren." He kept his eyes shut, bowing his head until it almost, but not quite, laid against Alfred's chest. The hands over his own squeezed tightly. It had only been a year ago when he could not stand another's touch, could not fathom the idea of boundaries becoming nonexistent.
"I think, on some level, I do miss those kind of storms," Alfred said, grinning. In Haplo's head, there was the faint grinding of gears in the distance, the snap of thunder, the vision of young people in white shielding themselves from the onslaught of the rain.
He thought back to his own; of gloomy days growing darker, mud slipping past his thighs, and being cold to the bone. "Well, I don't," he said dryly.
Alfred laughed, grateful and happy. And he was grateful too, enough to hang onto their hold for a while longer.
When they go back inside the Labyrinth, they are never far from each other. A few other Patryns would join them, and they were rarely ever the same ones from the last time except for Marit. Sometimes, a brave Sartan or two would come along as well. This day, there were fewer than any of their other previous attempts, but that didn't worry Haplo. Small groups sometimes had the greatest advantages.
"I don't know why you three continue to do this," Balthazar had mentioned once, watching them open the gate, staring out into the dead plains beyond it. It was usually Vasu that would watch them off, but the headman had a plethora of other duties today, leaving the once-necromancer to take his place. "Especially when others have offered."
Haplo realized it had been a long time since the man had ever been this close to the prison. "You know why. And since when have you ever protested against it?"
Balthazar stared past him, to the broken trees marking their territory. The group shouldered on their packs, some of them visibly shaking. Alfred, someone who could once not face any kind of intimidation against him, was able to walk to the gate without a stumble, humming the song that would give him wings and fangs. The music was enough to calm the others- it was enough to calm Haplo who still looked on that plain with dread.
He saw that same dread reflected in Balthazar's face. Who then laughed. "You're just giving it more chances kill you all, aren't you?"
The dragon, painted in emerald, appeared before them. He stretched out his wings, the shadow of them covering Haplo. "We never let it get that close to us."
"There is always a first." He didn't like Balthazar's tone, expectant, knowing. "But my warnings are never heeded, are they? I don't see a reason why they should be now."
Dark eyes flicked over the great beast standing in the field, laying himself low to allow everyone to get on. "Just don't let that Serpent Mage get into trouble then. From what I heard, this lovely prison house has a scruple with his existence… Along with whatever else lives there."
Haplo knew that. He didn't need a reminder.
"Let's go," Marit called out to him. She had already climbed onto the dragon's back, settling herself in with the others, perched in-between sharp spikes that lined down the middle.
No one had mentioned Alfred's encounter with the red dragon to him when he had been taken back to Abarrach. They didn't need to.
He never said goodbye Balthazar, simply taking Marit's hand to join with the rest, watching the dragon's long neck lift, eyes washing over him.
He was used to Vasu's words of hope, lifting him whenever he went back. Perhaps while they were gone, headman might be able to give Balthazar a lesson in encouragement.
Haplo felt more than saw the steady hand guiding him across the ground. He was placed near a bent oak, it's branches snapped off from the previous fight, leaves burned off from the flame-filled runes that were now disintegrating in the air. He slumped down, bracing himself against the bark.
"You're hurt," Alfred said, hovering at his side. The sandworms they had fought had all retreated, diving back into the dirt. He could still hear them burrowing, crushing rocks with their mouths. He hadn't seen many monsters like that recently- most preferred to remain underground, only going back to the surface when they were forced to.
He could guess just what had made them do so.
"I've had worse," Haplo replied. He tried not to flinch from the pain, but that was tough since he felt like his shoulder might have been slightly dislocated. He grasped it, uttering a chant to at least dull away the feeling.
Their group had gone back to their shelter within the enclave of trees. A few were hurt, but none as serious as Haplo's injury. It had been a better fight than the last, for they had lost a fellow Patryn just two days before, his throat torn out by an unusually quick wolfen before anyone had a chance to react. Casualties happened, but the knowledge never made their excursions into the Labyrinth any easier.
Haplo watched Marit bring everyone together, a little pale but better than those around her. She had her arm around one of the young Sartan who was limping and trying to heal the wound with a barely-audible song. It reminded him of other times, of another Sartan just as well-meaning. He was unable to keep himself from grinning.
Alfred shifted a glance, then turned back to Haplo with a blush. "I… I told him that it would be dangerous."
"Some people don't know how to sit back." As if to demonstrate, Haplo tried to stand again, felt his legs shiver and gave up promptly. He could practically feel the bruising on his shoulder turn blue. He would need the sleep, and he would need it very soon.
Before anything else, Alfred moved closer to him, keeping him steady. He couldn't do much else but sink against him.
"Just let me," Alfred said, grasping him from behind.
You know I'm not going to say no, Haplo thought, feeling the hands take his own. The pain from the fight came back sharp, forceful, nearly debilitating. He relived the coil that had grabbed his wrist, trying to wrench his arm from its socket. The words he shouted out made the runes on his arm transform into fire, withering the creature to ashes. Then his vision shifted, and he was suddenly hovering in the sky, rapidly heading toward the ground, hovering over his own, small body. His fangs snapped back at the monsters, driving them away. His tail uprooted the ground where they tried to hide in.
And in that moment, he could no longer remember. But the pain was gone, and the hold on him was addictive, making him sink into it more until the wings and the sword in his hand no longer felt separated. There was no such thing, has never been-
"Haplo?" The voice was distant, so many miles away. It was strange, because he knew it wasn't the voice from the one inside him, wasn't one that would question his state in the first place. It took him a moment to place it, and that the weight he was feeling was his own body, that the ache in his head was still there, tapping, piercing.
He focused his eyes to find Marit standing over him- over Alfred who had also collapsed to his side. Her eyes were wide. "What happened to you two?"
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the web, not really wanting to. "I'm not-" He looked down, trying to place the hands that were placed on his knees. They're his own, the sigla familiar, yet all new.
Alfred, not far beside him, lifted himself up to his knees, blinking in confusion. "Oh, dear, I'm… not really sure. I was just healing him."
Marit raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. "You connected the circle," she said softly. "But in your own way, like always."
"I'm sorry?" Alfred asked, but Haplo could guess what she meant. She had been curious as to why they kept doing this, why such a practice was still needed from them both. The circle was continuous, unbroken. He had one with Marit, as they would in sleep. But then there was the one with Alfred, which connected more than just dreams, which kept going even when they had both let go. She knew this because when he would wake up in the morning besides her, he would wonder at first just why he his arms were printed so.
She would not admit any jealousy, but still, she was frustrated.
"You should sleep," she said to him, laying down her spear. Red had sunk deep into its surface. "You too, Sartan."
We can't break this, Haplo suddenly wanted to say, catching himself in time to stop the words. There was no point in saying such a thing. There were circles always connecting from one to another, usually shared by two, which they both knew. A father to a son, a wife to a husband. Was the fact that Alfred was a Sartan make that much of a difference?
Yet the exchange of memories shared by the joining usually stopped when the circle was gone. Last night, he had dreamed of great machinery, clanking away in the rain.
Do we want to? spoke a voice inside him. He turned around, finding Alfred trying to settle himself comfortably on the ground, wincing when he stubbed his hand on a hidden rock. His body sometimes always felt so heavy- magic was the only thing that could help him move with any kind of grace. He knew this, even though Alfred had never actually spoken such a fact before.
Alfred glanced up at him, wondering. I'm not sure I want to.
Perhaps it should be troubling to be this dependent, to have such convenience. Me neither, he thought, patting the Sartan's arm.
"I can't leave without my child," the man told Haplo.
There were very few Patryns left in the Squatter village- most of the young had left to become Runners, and many more had died the past few years. Only a few dedicated, along with their children, remained. Haplo and the others had been careful to travel to the village on foot instead of dragon flight. Knowing his people, the villagers would have either ran off or tried shooting Alfred out of the sky if they had done so, and explaining to them that he was really just a Sartan man shape-sifted wouldn't have helped things either.
"You can bring your child then. We don't leave anyone behind." There weren't too many people for Alfred to carry, but it would take some time before any would trust him enough, let alone after they saw him change.
The Patryn shook his head. He was older than Haplo by only a couple of years, yet his hair was already going gray. "You don't understand. She has been missing for over three days, suddenly gone from her bed, leaving a path behind. I followed her tracks five miles off from here, and then they just end."
That was not a good sign. Few that went missing were rarely alive. People in the Labyrinth knew this. This man knew this. "Rethan," he said, reading the heart rune emblazoned on the man's chest. "If she has been gone for such a time-"
"I won't leave without her! She was only ten gates, she-" he stopped, choking back a sob. He stared at Haplo wildly. "If what you say is true, that you have escaped this place, then you are strong. You can help me find her."
Haplo hesitated, imagining a young girl stranded alone among the blasted plains. "Perhaps if me and Alfred scouted-"
"No. Not that Sartan. I do not want the hands that built this place anywhere near her."
He could explain that none of this was Alfred's fault, that it was a crime of his ancestors instead, but knew it would be useless. "You know she may be dead," he said instead.
Rethan clenched his fists, looking angry enough to strike at Haplo. But he took a breath, calmed down. "We are connected. She cannot be dead." He turned around, back into his own hut. "You can take the others, but I will remain here."
"He's chasing after ghosts now," Marit said after Haplo explained. "If he refuses to come, it's his choice."
Haplo couldn't get rid of the words. 10 gates. As old as Rue would be now.
"Haplo," he heard Alfred say before even Marit noticed his silence.
They had to take these people out of here, but the tracks, from the man's descriptions, didn't sound that far off. And he could move fast, as his magic would allow.
"You can't go alone," Alfred continued talking to him, worried.
"Rethan can come with me. With his help, it would be faster following the trail anyway."
Marit stared at him, finally understanding what he was saying. "We can't move on without you."
"The others still need to rest. A day or two at most." They had been traveling for nearly the whole week with little sleep- they all needed the rest to continue the trek back to the Nexus.
"But you do, too!" Alfred argued.
"Don't worry, Sartan," said Haplo, then winked. "I can just sleep on your back when I return."
Alfred's hands fluttered, unsure what to do with them. "You can't expect… us to stay behind while you go," he said, catching himself on the word.
I know, Coren. And ever since the closing of the Seventh Gate, he can't remember when he had been separated from the Sartan either. They always traveled together, always attended the same gatherings. They even lived in the same house.
"Marit, you need to be here to keep the group together. And Alfred, you need to be here in case something tries to attack."
"And you?"
"I won't be gone long."
"How do you know that?" Marit questioned.
But he couldn't leave another child behind. Not until he was sure. "I promise I won't," he said and embraced her. She did so in return, tightly, enough to restrict air.
It was only after Haplo had discussed going with Rethan about the excursion, after he prepared to go off, did Alfred meet with him again. He was standing at the fringes of the village, watching the trees sway ahead of him, waiting for the sun to rise. Warding runes were etched on the ground, keeping away danger as best they could. Alfred's clumsy feet, stepping on twigs and scuffing up the dirt, was hard to dismiss.
"Bad time to start sleepwalking, Sartan," he said jokingly, though the seriousness in Alfred's face instantly took away his humor.
"I could at least go with you."
Suddenly, everything felt difficult. He swallowed. "We'll be running fast. You won't be able to keep up."
"But what about my-"
"And people here don't trust dragons either. He wouldn't ride you, not right away. We need to do this search as soon as possible. Besides, they need you here, Coren."
Alfred looked down at the floor, suddenly nervous, frightened. He hadn't looked like this in a long time. "You once said you needed me."
"That hasn't changed." He paused, trying to make things better. "You know I'll be back."
Alfred had trouble speaking at first, as if he would weep on the spot. "Coren," Haplo said, trying to placate him, trying to ignore the dread inside his chest, that had been growing for the last few weeks. "Don't do this. It'll be fine."
"Before I was captured," Alfred said, his voice so low it was barely audible. "I felt you get hurt."
Alfred had never told him this. But Haplo could envision the flight over Abri, watching his own self get struck down, then carried away by a man in dark robes. He could envision the cavern as well, the manacles on his wrists, the taunting of the red monster before him.
"And I… I think during…all of that, I could even feel you dying and… I could do nothing, that when you died there would be no point at all for me to…"
Before anything more, Haplo took Alfred's hands, forcing him to sit on the ground beside him. "That's enough of that," he whispered.
Alfred was silent then, letting the hands hold him steady. Haplo closed his eyes even before Alfred connected them, before the runes on his hands lighted up, the glow as soft as a firefly's.
Memories of recent days, of past, of years beyond washed over Haplo like water. Even when the terrible mixed with the pleasant, the sensation of knowing it all calmed his own nerves. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched, suddenly careless to the dangers of the world around them both.
It felt like hours before one of them said something. "I'm sorry, Haplo."
"Don't be."
Both Haplo and Rethan left the village just before dawn, rushing down the pathway that ran through the Labyrinth, their hands always near their weapons. They ran fast, their runes picking up their speed. Haplo noticed the trail the child had left, marked by the disturbed brush and the small tracks left in the soil.
They had only traveled an hour before Rethan stopped at the shore of a wide river. "This is where it ends."
Things were already looking bleak. There were Patryns -even as young as children- who could no longer take their "home" anymore. But he didn't speak this thought aloud. "Let's go further south. We might pick something up."
Haplo made sure to keep the path in his eyesight, which was always visible past the trees. It was not unlikely for the Labyrinth to suddenly shift the landscape enough to confuse one's senses. They had searched for three hours, the dawn air chilling his skin. Even Rethan's steps moved slower, misery sinking inside him.
"She would find shelter for herself if she needs to. Near anyplace with food, by the fruit trees maybe."
Haplo didn't say anything. He let despair take its course.
After another hour, Rethan did a complete stop, his shoulders shaking.
"We can go back," Haplo suggested.
Rethan started to nod, turning toward him when he suddenly flinched, nearly falling over backwards. He looked around his shoulder.
"I just-" He stood up straight, eyes bulging. "I heard her!" He cupped his hands to his mouth shouting out, "Kara! Kara!"
Haplo would have believed the man was under some delusion if he hadn't also heard a voice as well.
"Father! I'm here!"
He put his hand to the sword by his waist, loosened it in its sheath. "Rethan, remember that it could be a trick-"
Patryns were sensible, prided themselves on reason and logic, but this man was also a father. He was already rushing towards the voice, feet splashing in the water. "Kara! My child, where are you?"
Hope was still an infectious thing. Haplo could do little else but follow.
They sprinted across the river's shore, trying to find Rethan's daughter who always sounded so close. But the trees in this area were packed in, somehow distorted the sound as if her yells reverberated across stone walls. After five minutes of searching, Haplo tried to stamp out the image of a lost child in the woods.
The Labyrinth was a deceitful thing.
"Rethan, this could be a boggleboe trying to trap us."
"No! She is here! I see her!"
That was when he dove straight into the river.
Haplo stopped completely, taken aback. He watched as Rethan swam through the roiling water, fighting against the current. The runes on his body glowed a desperate red.
"Wait! Damn it!" He rushed deeper into the shore, only up to his knees, chanting under his breath. A rope of sigla extended from his hands, twisting toward Rethan to grab him in its grip. If the man's grief was too much, perhaps Vasu's time well could help him heal.
He looked up, and saw a girl clinging onto a rock. Hair clung to her forehead from the spray, its color a chestnut brown.
Haplo stared, stopping in mid-chant. It could be her… The last village he and Marit were in, before they parted, was only a few Gates-
"No, this isn't right."
In the corner of his vision, things were moving. The water made him sluggish, made him feel so heavy. His rune-rope shattered, and his sword had been taken away.
Haplo? he heard inside him. Worried, desperate, and he couldn't say anything back for reassurance because the pain in his head was too sharp.
He woke up to darkness, frigid and suffocating.
Haplo tried to sit up, but there was a great weight on top of him. His bones felt crushed, jagged, his lungs pressed flat into the ground. He choked out a breath, trying to at least wrench one of his arms free.
His runes shone bright, yet still their glow felt like it was being swallowed, as if a dark mouth was sucking it dry. He said a few breathless words and turned the patterns to fire. The weight moved slightly, made no sound in response to his magic, but he was able to free a hand and dig his fingers into the ground.
He pulled up, barely able to hold back a scream.
"Is our master in pain?"
Somehow, he knew before the voice spoke, before he even woke. He stared at the grey scales laid atop him, their slime coating their surface, dripping onto his skin. It burned, made the runes on his arms flicker out like a dying candle. A red tinge from another source washed over him.
"Why are you here?" he asked, remembering the man in his commoner's clothes who had trespassed underground, still very much alive.
"When we knew of the Final Gate, we left our mensch worlds. I had deemed that to be so, leaving only a very few behind. That is, until you shut out the very route that was open to us." A sharp hiss, an angry weave of its body, pressing down on Haplo's legs. "But the Labyrinth has been most generous and kind to my own, giving us a home for all those who were driven out by you, and those who had the misfortune to not secure a place with Ramu's people in time."
Like calls to like. He should've known. He looked around, waiting to find another whose scar slashed over his eye, who perhaps had bits of marble fragments impaled on his head. He saw none, supposed he should've been relieved that at least one of the evil things was wholly dead.
"Fear still exists for us in here, but our hatchlings are very few and there is not as much sustenance to give them. We can no longer stand to hear them cry."
Haplo gritted his teeth. He noted how the scales on him looked mottled, patches of it a sick-looking white, as if it had been torn out. "Should I be feeling sorry for you?"
The laugh was sharp, bitter. "We can speak to it, you understand. It is not pleased with what you and the Serpent Mage have been doing. Neither are we, not with the rumors traveling through here, as a few of those you call "Runners" have actually traveled backwards to other villages further in. They speak of all you rescuers, braving the home you tried so hard to escape from to save those who would never be able to get out. As you must know, hope does not benefit us."
"Yeah, fear and hate are your meat and drink," Haplo said, coughing, trying to keep his teeth from clacking together. The cold had seeped in too deep. "How many more times will you tell me that?"
"You have always been such a problem, you and that Sartan." The weight lifted then, and though his runes were now dark, snuffed out by the scale's secretions, the red flare of the monster's eyes provided enough light to see by. The Royal One stretched out his serpentine body, though not by much, not with the same grandness as before. Shudders of pain still wracked through him, and those marks where Alfred's claws and fangs had sunk in painted the dragon-snake more hideously than ever. "But you have now given us an advantage."
He didn't like the tone, not that he much liked it before. His body started to shift of its own accord.
"You know then? Good."
In the red light, he finally saw the broken body of Rethan, pieces of him scattered among the rocks of the cavern. And he knew now that this place was a cavern, hidden deep underground, perhaps encompassed deep in the river, for the ceiling up top dripped water onto his face, water that he knew for certain was coated with poison, breaking down his structures.
"Can you hear its voice?" spoke the Royal One, gloating, yet still shivering.
"What do you mean?" Haplo asked, gasping for air again. He tried calling, needing to rectify his mistake. In his mind, he saw swarms of the grey coils, erupting from behind the trees, encircling their village. Notes of music swam before his eyes, runes connecting together in intricate lines to form the array of scales, the membrane of his wings.
"A great strength, but also a great weakness," something spoke, not the dragon-snake, not anything he could see. He was reminded of the young girl's voice, a delusion that he and Rethan had both shared.
In the Labyrinth, the terrain was its body, and deceit was its right. The rock ground beneath him sank, turned to quicksand. He didn't drown in it for it wasn't deep enough, but it kept him still, kept him locked down.
Haplo tried calling again. Coren! And he saw, through Alfred's eyes, a flinch. You need to go! All of you!
A gigantic, toothless mouth hovered over him, then struck out, slashing his already ruptured heart-rune with the bone of its jaw. He screamed, keeping the hopeless idea that maybe Alfred would not be able to hear it.
"The circle must be joined, remember?"
It had never spoken to him. He didn't know it even could. He remembered those suffering from the Labyrinth sickness, blathering about hearing darkness inside their heads.
"But you made the mistake of doing so in -my- domain."
Then he could no longer see- from anyone's eyes.
But he could hear.
Ground rumbled underneath him. He heard a gasp, heard someone fall to his knees, heard the familiar intake of breath. "What's going on?"
"More enemies." Marit's voice, followed by the ringing of steel- unsheathing her sword.
And he felt hesitance, whirling through his head, chasing after something, unable to capture it. "Haplo isn't back yet."
The silence was strained, only broken by a shaky, but determined song. One of the other Sartan, possibly the young one, trying to protect everyone.
Running feet, low chanting. And then a high voice, soothing over the starting sounds of battle. But still, in those melodies, there was less confidence, less assurance.
"Haplo?" he heard Alfred say again, almost begging for an answer. The song was done, the spell was cast, but the core of it all was nowhere to be found.
And then he felt Alfred reach across the chasm, finding nothing there, and stumble into the abyss.
It might've been hours, at least that was what he guessed, before Haplo was aware of anything. He was still trapped, though now it was the coils that took the place of the just-before molded ground, slowly squeezing his bones into bits and pieces- but he was alive.
Alive and empty.
He closed his eyes and could find nothing.
"What happened?" he asked. He was no longer sure who he was addressing; the Royal One, the Labyrinth, maybe there was even a dragon lurking here. Red and powerful, with a sharp tail. I couldn't move at all, he suddenly thought. But the memory he recalled felt much too distant now, much too separate, even if the Sartan had tried to block that out- and that was unusual.
He closed his eyes and found no one there.
"What happened?!"
There was hissing by his ear, slicing through the air like steam. "We had thought you fiercely independent, reliant on just your own. Truly a man that encompassed his name. But alas, that is not true, not anymore. Or perhaps it never was."
His chest hurt, as if it had been ripped open. He gasped, too afraid to look. But he was not able to anyway, not with the coils wrapped around his neck.
He tried to call again, to join. Theirs was unbroken. Even when his body failed on Abarrach, his soul was still able to find its way, was able to speak to him when no other living thing could hear.
Alfred didn't answer.
"Would you like to know?"
Haplo choked, blood forming in his throat. Raw, jagged, all warmth gone.
"Just like you, the Serpent Mage no longer has his support. A disastrous affair, but expected. One cannot rest their entire being on such a foundation, unstable as it is."
It was more than stable. But then you broke apart the stones. Haplo understood then, even if he could not make the connection as to how they had unraveled it. No, not unraveled, not completely at least.
This was not a possibility, the circle between them could not be broken. Yet he couldn't hear him.
"The Serpent Mage will be dead soon."
Cold, freezing. Haplo tried to hold back the sound, aware how torn everything inside him felt. I could even feel you dying, Alfred had told him, and suddenly wondered, wildly, if that was what he was feeling. There was no song, no familiarity.
In desperation, he grabbed onto the one concept that offered some hope. "But he's not dead now."
"It makes very little difference." The Royal One's head slid out of the shadows, hovering over his face, blinding him with the red fire of his eyes. "What is the point of protecting them all if you are not there?"
The serpents lived here too, (was that why Balthazar had been so wary?) they knew where the village was, where Marit was and… "He wouldn't let them die."
"That is not his choice to make. We already told you- what you share is also a great weakness."
He tried searching through his heart, hoping to see a flash of magic, of runes lighting up the ground, or to once again know the sensation of flight as he watched the snakes burn down to dust. But none of it happened for him- just a blackness that sank into him, smothering any trails that the Sartan might have left.
But I heard him.
The Royal One spoke to him again, weaving the patterns of the runic structures, speaking of unbound things, of disruption. It was similar to what Xar had cast on him after his confession, but these dragon-snakes, like the Pryan dragons, were creatures of the heart. They could break apart things much deeper.
Of course, they would not tolerate such a connection. "My apologies, master. But this dependence threatens our livelihood."
Ties snapped away, one by one, setting him adrift.
The young Sartan had just died. He had been picked up by the dragon-snake's mouth like a rag doll, thrown to the ground where his bones snapped, the edges puncturing his heart.
The monsters grew bigger, fat like overfed worms, moving in revolting, sluggish patterns. Alfred had not seen them this large since Abarrach. He circled around them, mouth snapping on one dragon-snake's neck, ripping it to shreds. Blood, vile and thick, filled his mouth.
He had killed three, yet still they kept coming.
He could not lose anymore people. Two had already lost their lives, the rest moving further in the village. Marit shouted out to some of the Patryns, having them spread out. "Remember, aim between their eyes!" She turned to the last remaining Sartan, bringing him near, away from the thrashing tails. "Setha, use your magic to try to pin one down. Low enough for me to get near its head."
The dragon-snakes only grew bigger.
"It's my fault," Alfred said, low enough for the others to miss. But the dragon-snakes laughed, their eyes glowed, taunted him.
"So you know what has happened."
Of course he knew. Something had snapped, a sharp, terrifying sound, not long after he had called after him, when he was already lifting into the sky. He couldn't reach out, for there was nothing here to grab onto. Suddenly, he felt very alone.
The emptiness was vast, overwhelming.
"I should've gone with him."
A dragon-snake lunged at him, wrapping around his body, pinning down his wings. He roared, trying to sink his fangs into its neck, but he did not have much luck with this one. The weight dragged him down, and he landed heavily on his side.
Alfred shook, confused and unsure, with none of Haplo's calmness to sustain him. He did not know what to do. If he could not feel him, then he must be dead.
The rune structure on his borrowed form started to break apart, the poison seeping through scales to find flesh. He heard Marit yell, and a terrible hissing that pierced through his head.
His legs were shaking, and everything inside him was shattering.
That time Haplo could see. He could imagine. Yet the memory felt too ancient.
"Did I lose him?" he asked out loud. No, it couldn't be. He had seen through Alfred's eyes, felt the workings of his mind. Or was that their last bond together, now suddenly cut away?
He called, but he no longer had a voice.
"All dead," spoke the prison, the smile in its voice, bloodstained like a wolfen's fangs.
"He is stronger than that," Haplo protested. His words came out hoarse, grinding against the torn flesh of his throat.
"Not without you."
The huts had been torn down, and poison soaked the ground. This he knew, even though he had lost all sight and sound. How could he have such things when part of him was lost?
"You are stronger than that," Haplo said, begging it to being. He held on to it still, no matter how terrible the images, the sensation of it was. Was this happening now, or was it a floating memory from days ago? Or weeks?
"We've buried their corpses, so that the wolfen won't desecrate their bodies, as I'm sure you're grateful for." The coils tightened around him, as the words sliced open his head. Disintegrating, unraveling. "Now, I cannot say about the creatures digging them out, but such is a fact of life here, isn't it, master?"
There were no traces of pathways left, all of it brushed away. It was no secret that the serpents were liars, yet there was nothing before him, and if there was no one there left waiting for him, then could it mean that the Sartan was gone?
He was freezing, unable to breathe. There was no constant exchange, there was nothing. But the circle could not be gone.
"Soon, the word will spread, along with misery. And our famine will finally end. We are grateful to you for providing us such an opportunity."
Haplo slumped forward, head bowed, waiting. He tried to open his eyes again, but had forgotten how. There was darkness in his head.
The Labyrinth always gives one a chance, as it must have when it led the dragon-snakes to them, leaving open an escape route, only to block it away. And he remembered when the Royal One, back on Chelestra, had goaded him on, eyes darting to his sword. You can still escape, he had said. You can still run. It must've been more than easy for both monstrosities to come to a mutual understanding.
In here, he saw no chance of escape. In his heart, he felt no hand reach out to him in comfort.
It had a been a red dragon, telling me of Abri. It spoke of everyone buried beneath the rubble.
Haplo started, suddenly realizing. "But none of them were."
The coils kept him in, leaving him little room to breathe, the grip on him- desperate.
Movement around him shifted, a heavy body scratching against stone, leaving the ugly scales on their surface. "What are you going on about?"
Not long after, slithering voices drew out the runes of decay and rust, sliding out of the Royal One's mouth in poisonous drips onto Haplo's chest. The heart-rune was close to obliteration, his mind sliding back to chaos, his voice hoarse from screaming.
In his eyes, the serpent shifted into the red dragon, its teeth gleaming, dragging its claws across his body. Blood spilled, only for the flesh to close up again to restart the game.
The memory was real, terrifying, but through all of that, hands took hold of his own.
He found the pathway again, hidden through the mists. Someone walked toward him.
"You found me," he said, smiling. And maybe it was a little saddening, having to resort to such terrible moments to know where the other was in the dark.
He felt the air around him suddenly grew hot and unbearable. The Royal One was frustrated. The Labyrinth was livid.
"You cannot do this," both said, their voices twisting together in an inseparable mess. Something impaled right through him- a fang, a claw, a tail, a rune of a warped shape.
But the hands gripped him tighter in the darkness, and it didn't matter that he could not see, could not hear. Perhaps many days had passed, the monsters doing all they could to reduce him to a mess, but through it all, he did not lose what he had come to cherish.
You found me, Coren, Haplo said again, floating back to the body that was not his, just so he could escape the pain, just for now.
Alfred pulled him near, giving him what comfort he could, despite the distance. You shouldn't doubt me.
It hadn't really been very long, perhaps a day or two, before he was found. The dragon-snake was stubborn, remaining with Haplo, trying once again to unravel the heart of his being completely, spitting out the magic as if it scalded his mouth. But a link proved too strong- a hand that had reached out, blocking the serpent's touch.
"You said you would aid me!" he had shouted, bashing against the cavern wall in frustration. Haplo could have told him that he was wasting his time- if a creature wasn't useful enough, then the prison would simply find something else to take its place.
As time went on, he felt the creature grow smaller, the damaged scales body wrapped around him loosening. Sartan runes shimmered before him, but he was already too exhausted to stay awake.
In the darkness, it was warm and pleasant. He opened his eyes to find Alfred kneeling next to him. He blinked, trying to recall the fight that must have happened as he slept, but the way to grab hold was not there- disrupted, twisted away.
"I've made a mess of things," Haplo said, suddenly feeling close to tears, an action he had not felt in years.
"No." Alfred embraced him, carefully, as if he were made of porcelain. "No."
"But I can't find…" He winced, the wound over his heart sending him in spasms. The Sartan held him fast, humming simple melodies, mending. "Where are the others? Marit?"
"Safe, back home. The Pryan dragons recognized what happened." Alfred's voice cracked. "But it was very difficult. I had to keep moving away."
"You found me still."
"Yes."
Haplo was exhausted, his soul was tired. It tried to reach out, but didn't know how.
"But if I was able to find you," Alfred said softly, "then we still could."
The hands held his own, the body held him close. A nice warmth, enough to fend away the chill, but that was all, as if something had been shut.
On Abarrach, he had been poisoned, dying, fighting against the Sartan's touch. He could not bear having his walls broken down. But it was either that or death, either that or a life that had known very little.
His vision shifted, and Haplo was deep underground, beneath the enormous machine, maneuvering through the hallways draped in blue.
It shifted again, and he was rushing past the fields near the Final Gate, stabbing a chaodyn through the heart, his side enflamed.
He moved, and he was graceful, his voice starting to form melodies. He lifted his hand, watching the tattooed-sigla burn bright before his eyes, shining in the darkness.
It had always been a risk doing this.
"One day, I might not know who I am anymore," Haplo whispered, and rested against the support near him, of a soft coat, stained with blood, ragged from the hordes that had done so much to keep the Serpent Mage away- of hands grasping his own.
A sinuous body circled around them both, its green scales bright, its green eyes shining. "Take as long as you need."
Haplo gave himself fully to Alfred's embrace, wanting to sleep.
On Drevlin, it had rained, soaking his robes. And the thunder was always loud, so much that it overpowered his songs.