"RIDE!"
They did. No fool would ignore that order with the Praetori hot on their heels. All of the Iceni moved, one solid mass, lunging and flowing, splitting through their enemies, charging. Horses whinnied and screamed out with piercing whistles as the Iceni fled, breaking the ranks of the Praetori and hurrying out and away.
The Praetori followed.
The Praetori were dogs of war. They had come for Boudica, used Merric and Mairi as their bate for the Iceni queen. They would not stop until all the Iceni were dead and Boudica was in their hands, hauled back to the Praetori stronghold.
They rushed away, galloping.
Merric's feathers fluttered on the wind. He felt that old hungering, lingering in him, seething and roiling. Those terrible wings twitched once they felt the air pass over and under those dark feathers. They fluffed out, attempting to catch the breeze flowing from the flying horse.
Oft had the man wondered if those terrible wings would actually carry his weight, but he had never been tempted enough to try. No, Merric knew from the ancient tales and legends of his people that the gods often liked to play tricks and jokes on mortals to test them. The young Iceni had often pondered, in secret, away from Mairi's prying questions, if this was the gods' way of testing Merric, seeing if he was truly a worthy warrior in their eyes. The man had contemplated the meaning of those inky, black feathers, gleaming in the moonlight.
"I d'nay a suppose those are any good for flying?" Boudica called over her shoulder, over the rolling thunder of horse hooves, stampeding now, at this point.
Merric shook his head. "I could not tell you."
Somewhere, in the distance, torches flickered, like little stars or diamonds in the dark. They moved about, scurrying in a line, perhaps eighteen feet above the ground. The remaining guard of Dun Aengus. Merric's heart rose; they were so very close now.
But the Praetori were running up on them hard.
xxxx
Brett sat, typing.
Geoff had to admire his resilience and sheer determination. The fire elemental refused to give up on Kathain, refused to chock her up as a lost cause. He would never. Kathain had been a sister to him; Brett would never just let her go to those Solomon bastards. And, so, he began the lost task of archiving those zeros and ones into an old desktop computer he'd found.
Still, it was a moot point.
Robin brought him a cup of hot tea, complete with milk and lemon, setting the saucer on the table next to him; Brett raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"It looked like you needed something," the girl responded.
Brett took the spoon and stirred it. "Thank you."
"What are you working on?" Robin inquired.
He sighed, shrugging in dejection. "Just trying to get all this binary into the computer so I can even get a chance to start figuring out what it's all about."
"What about Michael? Maybe he could help?" Robin whispered.
"Get a hold of him."
xxxx
There was nothing more sweet that night than the rush of wind as the returning warriors poured through the tunnel, back into the first ring of Dun Aengus. There was a swarm, a flurry of activity as the gates were barred shut as the Riders leapt from their mounts and rushed up to the tops of the wall.
"MERRIC!" A voice shouted.
The man gasped and ran to the source, through his arms around Mairi; he stopped, looking down at the bandage around her leg. "What happened?"
"It is nothing."
Boudica laughed. "Just a scratch, eh?"
Mairi grew serious. "I need the bow."
xxxx
"What were they like?"
Nycole never pictured it in Amon to get so interested in her fairy tale of warriors and battle. Although, he remained, cooped up in that small bedroom, bedridden and alone other than Nycole's storytelling and some brief contact with Robin. The teenager got so angry every time she saw the damage done to Amon's body that Nycole had to start banning Robin's visits. The injured man didn't need to be exited, and setting tiny fires of anger certain constituted excitement.
"What do you mean?" the empath inquired.
"Merric, Mairi, Boudica?"
Nycole laughed. "I don't know. I never met them."
"Then how do you know this?"
The empath drew open the shade a crack, revealing that distinctive landscape. Once, and only once, Zaizen had sent Amon to Dublin. It had been cold and rainy at the time, but Amon couldn't help but recognize it, even as twilight settled. He nodded, understanding, slipping back to a restful state, letting his eyelids droop.
"You need more rest."
Amon shook his head. "No." He started to rise. "I need to find Kathain."
"Oh no you don't!"
Nycole pushed him back down, gently, onto the bed. Amon weakly reclined back; it wouldn't be too terribly long before the girl wouldn't be able to do that, or so she hoped. Nycole wanted to jerk her hands back when she felt how utterly hot his body burnt. Fever. Infection had set in. Now that the telepath looked closely, she could see it, a glint of sweat on his brow, a sickly pallor to his face. Infection. Illness. Sickness. Death.
"I have to save her from Zaizen," Amon whispered.
Nycole shook her head gravely. "No. You HAVE to get some sleep. Your body's taken a beating. It's still healing." She tried to force out a smile. "Can't go saving the day if you can't stand up." Amon didn't look pleased with her comment. "Make you a promise. You get four hours of good rest, and I mean FOUR hours at least, and I'll tell you more of the story."
"You weren't going to give me any other options anyway, were you?"
The empath grinned. "No. Not really."
"Alright."
xxxx
"READY ARCHERS!"
Boudica was the epitome of a warrior, leading her people, shouting directions and orders this way and that. But, as she did, the woman had slipped the key to Merric. The young man helped shoulder Mairi's weight, taking her deeper and deeper into the keep of Dun Aengus, to Boudica's lodge in the center of the Iceni fortress.
It had been ages since either of the refugees had set foot in that grand hall. On their many travels since the Praetori had destroyed their village, Merric and Mairi had encountered a strange people obsessed with living out the afterlife in the hall of a great god. Every single time Mairi heard the tale and beliefs uttered, she always thought of Boudica's hall. Centuries of stone and thick, strong timbers came together to form a long lodge, perhaps forty or fifty feet long, and eighteen feet tall. Bulky rafters stretched overhead, supporting the roof and holding the structure together. It seemed so warm and comforting. The standards of the Iceni hung left and right.
Mairi had always felt welcome, until that moment then, as she limped across the hall, to the bow. It had rested there, behind Boudica's own seat at the grand banquet table, hung with reverence. The bow seemed so weirdly ancient, of a curving, undetermined bone and horn, ivory perhaps. It didn't matter. The bow itself had been formed and shaped with great carve, obviously the masterwork of some unknown craftsman. Delicate little carvings ran up the black form of the bow, filled and lined with thin trails of silver.
That bow had been kept there for Mairi herself.
The girl took up her weapon, feeling the strange lightness to the bow, despite materials that should have been dense. The bow seemed to welcome her, feeling so secure and utterly perfect in her hand. Mairi pulled a cloth from the mantle beneath it, finding her own quiver, still loaded with arrows, ready for use. The girl slung the quiver over her shoulder.
"Let us go."
xxxx
Short, but necessary. Enjoy.
