A/N: this stroy decided to pop up after I finished reading "Magic's Pawn"... and "Owlsflight"... and starting "Storm Watching"... and rereading a good number of Mercedes's stuff and noting just how SLASHY she really is! It amazed me. Anyway, these little kiddies decided to show up be known. Lucky, lucky me, ne? Well, we'll see what happens. R&R please; I need the input to decide whether I should kill them all now, or let them kill each other later one, or what.
TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!!
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Warnings: language, mild violence, slash
Note: thoughts, :mind-speak(bondbirds, dyheli, hertasi, etc):, mind-speak(person-to-person), &flashbacks&, emphasis
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Last One Standing
Faith Onward
The day was warm, the sun nigh onto zenith. In a grove in one of the darker corners of a large Vale sat a young man, hunched over his work, and a large griffin, wing outstretched for the diligent youth, crested head raised to the warm sun. Above circled a large carrion bird, barely a circling speck, until it began to descend.
Trondi'irn Nightriver k'Rika didn't look up as his bondbird, a large raven by the name of Bry, swooped into the clearing he sat in, focusing instead on the waterproofing oils he applied slowly to his charge, his young counterpart, Rena.
The griffin turned her large golden head, glaring at the black bird that now perched on the bough closest to them, and snapped her cruelly hooked beak at the raven, who squawked indignantly, and lifted off again, alighting beside his human.
:Danger,: he uttered suddenly, nipping at Nightriver's knuckles. The young Tayledras scout sighed, and looked down at his large raven. :Scared.:
:Who?: he demanded, raising one fine, dark brow.
Unlike most Tayledras, even the younger scouts, Nightriver still retained his dark hair. He could remember, not too long past, when he'd been Moonrain, before the Elders had noted how little the magic sapped him of his dark, nearly blue-black hair. His eyes, however, had taken on the classic, almost surreal, icy blue of his kin, looking almost out of place on his richly tanned face, beneath the fall of his dark hair.
Also, unlike most of his k'Rika brethren, Nightriver didn't talk much, or seem inclined to take up conversation - in or out of bed - with any of his fellow scouts. He was a shy young man, preferring the company of the griffin he attended and his young bondbird.
To him, it was a good life.
Until Bry started talking in riddles.
Through the link, Nightriver saw a flash of a young man and woman, riding strange beasts. Both were deathly, sickly pale, the girl with an almost green hue to her complexion; the boy had blood slowly seeping from his hairline down over the left side of his face. Both had light hair. The girl was hunched over the bow of her saddle on the back of her mount - the creature looked almost to Nightriver like a changeWolf - while the young man looked about.
Along with the sight came a shouting of pain, anguish, and even the lightest douse of madness. He looked sharply to Bry, who hopped in place and snapped his beak.
:Danger. Sad. Hurt. Nightriver help!: Bry proclaimed, and cawed sharply, making Nightriver cringe a moment. :Nightriver help pretty boy and sister!:
:Bry...: Nightriver began, before looking over at Rena, who had lifted her wing from his lap and was shaking herself out a bit. "Rena?" he murmured, his voice soft and unsure.
"Well, I hearrrd him asss well asss you did," she stated, ruffling the feathers about her neck. "And we haven't anything betterrr to do. It would not hurrrt to go sssee what they are doing in ourrr landsss."
Nightriver sighed; outvoted by a raven and a gung-ho griffin. He shook his head, but stood, stretching out the kinks in his back, and casting his pale, nearly silver eyes to the sky.
The patrols aren't back yet, he mused to himself, carefully guarding his thoughts. The Elders won't miss another scout and bird.
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Kanwel tried to keep his hands on the reigns, away from the heft of the sword that weighed unsurely, foreign, on his right hip. It was always the right. It was where his daggers would be, had his daggers not been lost, embedded in the eyes and hearts of unknown, unnamed marauders, in the guts of the men whom had killed his father and brothers and burnt his mother and tried to rape his sister.
He cast a sideways glance at his twin, the once glorious Hortense. Now she slumped uncomfortably in her saddle, her long, golden hair dappled with blood and other things Kanwel didn't want to think about. Her ears had been severed at the tip, the only outward sign to her torment beside the already fading bruises.
Supposedly, he was lucky. They both were. Both had left their village alive and relatively well, with weapons and mounts and most of their spirits. But Hortense was ill, and he suffering from some unknown madness he was sure was dictated by the mutilated bodies he'd left back in their village, along with those remains of their family.
Their clothing was torn, hanging from their lank and drawn bodies. His breath felt heavy; that surprised him little, having left the steep hills to the much easier ground in the forest that had greeted them on the other side of the seemingly insurmountable heights.
"Hort'," Kanwel chirped in their home tongue. The girl, with her long golden hair and once bright emerald eyes, barely stirred at his prompting. "Hort', would you like to stop for a while? The forest is nice here."
Hortense groaned slightly, as though in a deep trance, and Kanwel reached over with one slightly shaking hand to pull her mount to a stop. When both steeds were still, he clambered from his saddle, and walked them a few feet off the trail, breaking branches to mark his way back. After a good few minutes tromping through underbrush, he halted, and tied off their beasts, before lifting Hortense from her saddle; she groaned again.
"Hort', I'm going to lay you down for a minute, then I'm off to find water, see if I can find some rabbit," he uttered softly, removing his cloak and spreading it over the pine-needle littered floor, resting her atop it. "Toland and Ugo are here; call for me, if there is trouble."
She uttered something into his neck which he assumed was an affirmative, and he smiled slightly. That was something for him. With gentle ease, he laid her down, and took off further into the brush, breaking twigs and bush-branches along his way.
There was something wrong with this forest. He didn't know what, and fancied he didn't want to know, but he knew, by the gods, he was not going to get lost and leave Hortense all alone.
After an hour of seemingly aimless wanderings, left to his own thoughts, Kanwel finally came across a small brook, which burbled merrily about it's way, tumbling over rocks, and through the reeds that lined it's edge. He sighed, wanting longingly to strip of his rank clothing and wash himself off the sweat, grim and foulness that still infused his body, but he declined, dipping instead to fill his canteen to the lip with the crystal clear mountain water; he wondered, for the briefest of moments, if when he returned to his sister if he should boil the water before letting her have any of it.
He passed the idea when he heard Hortense calling for him. Her soft voice was feeble, be clearly distraught. He clipped the canteen to his hip, and whipped swiftly through the brush, trusting to his sure footing to keep him on the trail he'd marked.
He'd, in fact, not actually been too far away from where he'd tethered their beasts and left his sisters. But now, along with his frail twin and the two large, snarling mounts stood three of the most unusual things he'd ever seen.
A being, half like a big cat, half like a giant eagle, glared contemptuously at Toland and Ugo, a burbling growl echoing from it's richly feathered breast. Beside it stood a tall young man with unearthly silver-blue eyes, long, dark hair with feathers woven into a few thin braids and richly tanned skin. Atop the man's shoulder sat a raven of unimaginable size, looking down at Hortense as though she were some tasty bit of carrion to devour, should she move the least bit.
Kanwel's eyes grew round, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached for the blade on his broad hip, and skidded into the clearing, falling into a rough stance before his sister. Hortense's thin, frail hands gripped at his pant legs, and the dark man took a step back at his appearance; Kanwel took the hand he was given.
"You will not touch her!" he roared, though it tore at his throat. All ready, he could hear the clamor of others trying to invade his mind, a dull ache echoing between his ears as his hand turned slightly warm where he gripped the heft. "The dark will not be to your avail, foul-thing! Avast, brigand!"
The man stared at him a moment, before looking to the bird on his shoulder. After a long moment, the man chuckled slightly, and bowed his head, sweeping his arms away from his body as the raven left his shoulder.
I apologize, bright one.
Kanwel growled, and shook his head, trying to keep this newest voice out. The sword slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, and the voices ceased with a suddenness that left a ring in his ears; that new one still rang, sharp and clear, deep and somehow concerned.
"No... No, stay out. You will only help them..." he muttered incoherently, holding his head. He fell to his knees, suddenly tired, and felt Hortense wrap her lean, delicate arms about him. "Leave us alone..."
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Nightriver had been surprised to find the girl alone, and had looked up a little as Bry alighted heavily on his shoulder.
:Are you sure -?: he had begun, but the bondbird had ruffled his feathers, as though indignant to be guessed against.
:Pretty boy by river. Nightriver help sister.:
:I... I suppose so.:
Rena had given them both a sidelong look as Nightriver had carefully stepped out into the clearing with the barest ruffle of leaves. He was one of the best scouts the Tayledras had, for how lean he was, how light amid the brush.
The strange changeWolves had shifted, turning their long, wide faces towards him as they caught his sent. One, the larger one, growled slightly, a deep, guttural, bubbly sound that made the girl open her eyes.
They were green, Nightriver noted offhandedly, and she had once been beautiful. But now the wears of he knew not what had made her skin sallow, drawn against the bones of her face until she resembled a skull that retained hair - which, too, had once been fine, but was now gnarled and stringy.
She caught sight of Nightwind just as Rena entered the clearing, prepared to use her deadly talons on the beasts, should they chose to loosen their lines and turn on them. Bry poked Nightriver in the ear.
:Nightriver talk. Help sister. Pretty boy be back soon; no worry.:
:Right...:
"H-hatchling..." he whispered, trying desperately not to frighten the skinny wraith of a girl that reclined before him. He knew it was foolish, thinking the girl could even remotely understand his words, but he knew even tone was sometime soothing.
The girl seemed not to think as much. No sooner had he taken a step forward that she began to wail hideously, closing her eyes and clamping her hands down over her ears with force that seemed nearly bruising just to watch.
And no sooner had the wail begun that Nightriver heard a figure rushing through the brush. No doubt the youth Bry had dubbed 'pretty boy'.
And indeed he was. As he erupted from the trees, he drew a sword from the scabbard on his hip, and fell in before his sister, who instantly ceased her screeching. He was tall, almost as tall as Nightriver, and well built, broad in the shoulders and hips, with the same golden hair and green eyes as his sister; the hair was in better quality, falling in shocking waves around his lean face and the lightly tilted eyes that were far clearer than his sisters.
He shouted something hoarsely at him, brandishing the sword in a tight, two-handed grip. His brow was furrowed, and a tick had started at his temple, beating sluggishly.
:Pretty boy say you stay 'way from sister. Say you brigand.: Nightriver almost laughed aloud at the little mental picture Bry sent with the translations - a Nightwind with beads of glass and war paint standing on the bow of a ship. He chuckled dryly, thinking the idea foolish, and swept into a bow that dislodged Bry with an upset squawk, and probed at the boy's mind a moment, before trying something he knew he oughtn't.
I apologize, bright one, he murmured into the boy's mind. The blond boy's eyes widened, and he mumbled something knew as the sword slid from his lax grasped, thudding to the ground beneath him. His eyes unfocused a moment, and he tumbled back towards his sister.
Without intent in mind, Nightriver moved towards them both. The boy groaned slightly, turning away from him, and the girl opened her mouth, as though to shriek again. Nightriver risked speaking again.
"No." The word was simple, and not easily misunderstood when he held a finger to his lips and shook his head. "H-Help." He patted his chest, and then placed a hand on the boy's brow.
It was tacky and warm to the touch, and he turned to look at Rena. The griffin nodded her great golden head and stepped forward; already she seemed to know how to speak to the two youngsters, and spoke to them shortly, kindly, as Nightriver moved away and lifted his arm for Bry.
:They ok?: the raven asked softly of his mind, rubbing against his temple like a cat.
:They will be fine. I need you to get back to the Vale and tell some of the other scouts what's happening. They'll want to see these two. And their mounts.:
As the raven took off from his arm, Rena had finally prompted the two golden children onto their mounts again, and was walking with them slowly out of the forest. Nightriver managed to snag onto Rena's harness, and lift himself into the pouch on it, compacting himself until he could clamber onto her back and ride properly.
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A/N: well.... that was interesting, ne? Introducing: Nightriver, Kanwel, Hortense, and all the other crazy fun people! R&R, I'm begging you. I already have the next chapter started... -.-;