Too much suspense filled the open air. It changed feelings as simply as autumn to winter. Mortimer was worried, but thought the Prince was being idiotic in his sense of mystery and secrecy. Dustfinger just wanted to blow the place and go back home. But the shadows just cast over their faces and they continued to listen to the Prince's story. "The reign of peace in the Inkworld has come to an end."
"What does it have to do with us?" Mortimer crossed his wrists, though still listening closely for more detail. Several birds waved and swooped overhead as if nothing was wrong. Dustfinger wanted to just follow them freely and not even get involved with the Prince's knowledge. The closest thing he could get to it though was walking to a nearby tree, leaning against it and lowering his head, as if he were lost in his own world. "I'll explain myself more thoroughly. You probably remember the infamous silvertongue, Orpheus, do you not?" Dustfinger spit in disgust, Mo's gaze just became wider, and his pupils seemed to cringe.
The Prince didn't wait for an answer. "There is a widely spread rumor, which with every passing moment is becoming more and more factual, that Orpheus has not yet deceased." A short undisrupted pause filled the small space between each sentence. "And beyond the lands that Inkweaver has created, lies a land of the unwritten. He found that land as he has wished, and carved something out of it." His hands seemed so tense with each gesture they made. The Prince's left hand was now clenched as if he held an orb in his palm.
"We have received signs that war is coming. We've gotten whispers of the rising recruits, stories of things that lie in the shadows…"
"Wait a second, you said 'we'. Who's 'we'?" Mortimer let his head sink lower as his voice did, trying not to get the attention of any of the people within the camp. "I have been in touch with some of Violante's soldiers. I have told no one yet of my own crew, besides you two, and won't until this is utterly confirmed--"
"Certainly, you aren't mystified by rumors anymore, Prince? Because if this is all based upon rumor, there is no need to get so serious about it." Dustfinger interrupted, his gaze still was lowered towards the forest floor. The Prince ignored his impatience to get home. "It's not only that, my dear friend. There have been some sightings. Especially of that tiny glass man he had. Just the other day, the people of Ombra were gathering while the little brute rampaged through the town shouting." Once more, it became quiet. Each of their minds waited for another to talk, but they were all refusing to speak up themselves. "You saw it yourself Prince?" Mortimer asked at last.
The figure nodded. "He was trying to burn into the walls with torch and flame, too. I couldn't see, but for a small man, he's got quite a voice." A howling wind spread through the camp, letting leaves twirl and fall everywhere. When each leaf fell, it made a crackling sound, which with the wind, sounded like a small scream. "So it's war then, and soon?" The Prince nodded. "To our misfortune."
*************
While this unknown discussion took place in the heart of the Strolling Player's camp, a small glass man and a larger shadow were perched at a corner in Ombra. "'You ready?" the glass man whispered. The larger man threw his hood over his head and unsheathed a short, but sharp blade that was raised closer to his torso. "As each following night." Ironstone began to run through the rugged paths of the streets, but unlike most times, was not screeching in battle cry. He leaped over various passing stones and tufts of plant-life, searching for some populated area of Ombra. The other man followed, silently and gravely. Ironstone's color faded with weariness of running, but he moved on. His pace slowed and he leaped behind another corner when he came upon a large horde of people. All of their chat and gossip was no matter to him.
Ironstone waited for the lurking shadow of his ally, then threw a small pebble into the way, to show that he was present. The cloaked and hooded figure knew on his master's orders he had to make this quick. Under his hood, he looked for a specific victim. If he had a target, it would make this easier. Like a wolf peering through a flock of sheep, he looked for an easy victim. One that looked weak, and not quite as fast. The closest thing he could get was a person who looked very early in manhood. His hair was coal black, and he seemed quite skinny. Also by the looks, it didn't look like he had a weapon of any sort on him.
The hooded man inhaled silently, and then curtly nodded towards the glass man. Out of the shadows the man jumped out, scattering the group that had just been there. Though the herd had split up quite far, his target was just what he expected, not as fast or strong. In several significant leaps, he was right at the man's back. The unsheathed blade pierced the victims back deeply and only once for him to stumble and collapse. The assassin took hold of his knife once more and brought the body back towards the area the group crowded around in only moments ago.
"Go now, Ironstone!" he hissed under his breath. The glass man eagerly searched through the limp man's pockets for anything useful. While he did that, the hooded figure took his knife and stabbed the other once more, to assure death. From the wound, his fingers touched the blood and made marks on the wall. At a distance, hoof steps and rages of voices could be heard. "Hurry up!" the glass man successfully reached several sacs of gold and, to their not so perfect judgment, had found a dull, but handy blade.
Quickly, the assassin marked the wall one last time. "The time is out." Leaving nothing but the body and the message, not even footprints, the two silhouettes disappeared into the shadows, and back towards the growing land far north. People of Ombra gathered around the wall that had been written on until no one else could possibly come. Violante's soldiers were among the front of the crowd with their eyes wide. Many murmurs spread throughout the crowd of all different questions and remarks. 'What is it talking about?' and 'Who wrote this?' were common questions, but the soldiers knew this is something they should be afraid of, though the others were confused and dumbstruck.
In boldly written blood, was a message for all of the Inkworld to know: ORPHEUS SHALL RISE ABOVE ALL
************************
The sun was almost at highest peak. Almost time to leave, as promised. The Black Prince had explained nearly everything, and only one important aspect remained. "Now, only one more matter to settle." The Prince's dark eyes looked up again. "We need someone to lead us into battle."
Mortimer and Dustfinger exchanged glances, then set their glance upon the Prince in unison. "Why can't you lead?" Dustfinger asked. "I believe that more recruits will come if their leader is better known for victory. The Bluejay saved all of our necks last time from the Adderhead. Maybe he could save us from Orpheus?" Mortimer chuckled and shook his head. "I'm afraid that I am strictly retired from leadership roles." A disappointed flicker passed the Prince's eyes. "But if it's needed, I will fight as a regular man." The Prince nodded and sighed in acceptance, to have a few minutes later cast a hopeful glance at Dustfinger. "I'll give you five words Prince, to summarize how I feel about this." He leaned in closer towards the fire pit. "No, no, no and no."
"And why not, Fire Dancer!?" he exclaimed. "I'm no fighter! You know that!" he stood up and faced his back towards them. "There's got to be a better reason than that." Great, now Silvertongue is on his side too? When Dustfinger turned back to them, his eyes blazed. "I've been absent from this world for ten years. Plus who knows how long once I got back!"
"No one said you'd have to leave the Inkworld, Dustfinger." Mortimer explained. "That doesn't mean I don't have a chance at death, Silvertongue." That silenced his friend almost instantly, even though it hadn't been shouted. All the information, distress and anger at all this change pulsed through his blood quickly. He didn't want to leave Roxane. He didn't want to risk losing her again. "And in those years I was gone, so much changed." He exhaled sharply. "Rosanna's death, Roxane's second husband and son, Cosimo's first death…… It pierces a person more than the most perfectly sharpened knife." Dustfinger let a small flame flicker on his fingertip. The reflection that beamed in his eyes seemed to calm him down a slight bit.
"Right now, friend, you probably have the best chances of saving us all." The Black Prince whispered. "At least we think so." Mortimer finished quietly. "Look, it just… puts me in a position where death is more likely to occur. And I really don't have the potential to lead anything." Long silence escaped again, leaving Dustfinger to step into the shadows again and listen to all the rustling sounds of nature. "Do you want to lead, Dustfinger?" Mortimer asked. Their friend had blended into the scenery for a while. They wondered if he was still there until a fire rose among a pile of leaves. "No." his voice said simply and lowly. "What if it was for Roxane, Brianna, and Gwin? Only them, not for us at all, if you wish it." A muffled grunt escaped Dustfinger's silhouette. "Maybe." He exhaled.
"Can you at least take it into consideration? The beneficial parts?" the Prince asked in favor. "If there are any." Dustfinger replied. "It's noon. You agreed that we can leave now."
"Just answer that, and we can leave." The two others rose to their feet and prepared to leave. Dustfinger hadn't answered, or spoken to them as they left. Quietly, they left the fire pit with Dustfinger in the lead and Mo and the Prince trailing behind him. They gave up the heart of convincing Dustfinger, and discussed who else could lead them. Mortimer was pretty sure that the Black Prince could lead them just fine. The Black Prince nodded unsure. "I suppose…" Dustfinger listened, but let their conversation continue uninterrupted. After the long distance of travel, it was time for them to take their separate paths home. Finally, was the one thought that surrounded both Mo's and Dustfinger's minds. "So, we'll be meeting again soon, I assume?" Mortimer asked the Prince before he headed home once and for all.
He nodded. "Darkness is rising quickly and we'll need as much knowledge about this enemy as we can get." Mortimer didn't show any sign of happiness as he turned away from the duo, and towards his beloved home, his family and the girl who was waiting for the entire story outside their humble house.
"Sorry for the pressure, Fire Dancer." The Prince said to Dustfinger. Dustfinger half expected Gwin to come to his side, lost in the thoughts of reaching home, but of course, the motionless air stood in its place. "It's alright my friend." The breeze tugged at his coat like the guilt tugged at his heart, pulling his soul towards the direction of Roxane's farm. When Dustfinger was a few yards away, with his back turned, he said calmly, but regretfully, "I will take the role into consideration." Relief filled the Prince quickly, but he replied with nothing, leaving Dustfinger to reach home in peace, and for him to worry about the upcoming war alone.