Once again, thank you very much to those who have taken the time to put in a review. I would have been amazed to receive just one or two, with only a single chapter out so far. =) But here's the promised part 2; unfortunately, part 3 doesn't seem to be coming along as smoothly, so no estimates as to when that'll be out yet.
The Words Between - part 2
:You should eat, Kyn. At least drink some water; it will help relieve your headache.:
He tried to ignore the voice as he had for the last four candlemarks since he had woken, maintaining his vigil in the corner of the cell, staring blankly at the barred square of light set in the upper half of the handle-less door. But it badgered at him ceaselessly, worming its way into his mind, until he could barely sort out what were his own thoughts and what originated from outside his skull.
:The healers can take care of your hand, but you have to keep up your strength...Healing will require energy that you must provide, and I know you barely eat or drink before any of your assignments...:
He shuddered, fought not to huddle around the cold knot of fear that wound tight in the middle of his gut. Stop! he thought fiercely to himself, hoping that wherever the voice really was, it would hear him. He couldn't stand how much that voice knew, couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he had no defenses against it, and now he sought to distract it - and himself - as he continued flatly, It would be a waste of time and resources.
There was a thoughtful pause, and the voice continued, even more gently if possible, :It would not be. They will not execute you. I would not permit it, even if they were so inclined. Eat, Kyn, there is no sense in your trying to starve yourself to death.:
The end result would be the same. And in a far more pleasant manner. I will be dead within four nights, by my own hand or otherwise, and I would much rather die of thirst or starvation than to die in the other way fashioned for me.
Unease that wasn't his floated at the peripheries of his mind, and he could almost imagine little ghostly will o' wisps darting about the edges of his vision, hurried and aimless. :I don't understand why you think that, Kyn. Please, all I wish to do is help you, and I would never let anything hurt you if it were in my power to prevent it. I Chose you, and that will never change. Let me know what you think will happen, so that I can help...:
Leave me my choice then! he returned forcefully, startling the voice into temporary silence. Let me choose the way in which to end this!
He was finally alone with his own thoughts, however briefly. Though he desperately needed to explore this new development while he had the chance for uninterrupted examination, he was afraid to stretch toward that peculiar portion of his thoughts where things tended to slide into something - someone - else's feelings and words. So he kept himself neatly focused on the occasional flicker in the light hanging just out of sight, on the scent of a cooling meal left on a tray just inside the door, on the rough texture of the stone biting into his back, in the steady ache in his broken hand, throbbing to each beat of his heart.
The voice had apologized profusely for the last, when he was finally able to gather enough of his wits to realize where he was. Had explained that it was an accident, that panic at losing him (preposterous as that assertion had been, he had openly scoffed though the voice continued vehemently in the same vein) had made it - her - try to stop him in the only manner she knew how. She had struck harder than she would have intended, if she had had a cooler head about her.
He squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing, and laid his aching head back against the blessedly chill stone. Her. She. It. Even in his own thoughts, he vacillated between the pronouns, caught between addressing the voice by what he knew it to be, and keeping it at a safe, anonymous distance. It was so tempting, too tempting, to let it wiggle its way in, take up residence and become a familiar and permanent addition...
:I am nothing that you will ever need fear, Chosen.:
He sighed wearily, mouth twisting in annoyance. No, he agreed shortly. I would kill you for your incessant nattering before I did so out of fear.
He sensed a moment of shocked hurt, before understanding flowed through the indefinable link that had been established between them and amusement - amusement, of all things! - followed. Finally, the silence he had sought for, this time with the distinct feeling of 'turning away' that seemed to indicate Sianni's attention was fully elsewhere. Grinding his teeth, he tried to let the tension drain from his shoulders, seeking a slightly more comfortable position on the straw-stuffed pallet.
The understanding had unnerved him almost more than the 'knowing' itself. Bad enough someone knew his life almost better than he did. Even worse to have someone who could grasp his motivations, who could possibly predict his actions. It was an intolerable vulnerability, and he composed himself, about to begin the laborious process of exploring this new backdoor into his mind, to analyze and construct a defense against it...before he remembered where he was. What had happened. What was going to happen.
He was going to die...and all that he would do now would be wasted effort.
He was still in the same position, back and neck stiff with realization that there was absolutely nothing more for him to do in this life, when footsteps drew close, stopping before his door. Three people, one far more adept in the concealment of their steps than the other two, all arriving just outside his cell. He didn't bother lifting his head as the door was unlocked and swung open.
Two men in the garb of the city guard stood on either side of another, the one that walked with the habitual grace and quiet of one who expected danger at any given moment, from any quarter. Garbed in harsh gray, straight and slim and deadly, Kyn felt a brief flicker of curiosity at the Herald-like uniform with its un-Herald-like hue before it was subsumed by resignation. As he felt the others' regards on him, he shifted to relieve the pressure on one leg when it began to fall asleep.
"That's him," the guard on the left finally said uncomfortably into the silence. "They say you're to just take 'im now?" The guard's voice was thick with incredulity. Kyn had to wonder if it was for the un-Herald's ability to handle the prisoner, or for releasing a murderer with the blood still drying on him in the same night of his incarceration. Kyn rather suspected the latter; no matter the perceived threat from his accomplishments. There would seem to be little contest in a struggle between the un-Herald and a small youth barely old enough to grow a full beard.
"Just that," the un-Herald echoed flatly, and with those words confirmed that his voice belonged to the one that had knocked Kyn out. A curt motion of his head alluded to the corridor that led, presumably, to the gaol's only exit, but Kyn didn't move at first, watching the man warily for any clues as to his motives.
:Trust Alberich.:
I don't need your opinions, Kyn returned snippily as he rose to his feet, bracing his hand against the wall against the sudden tilt of the world in his aching head. Not even wondering what the un-Herald intended with an unbound murderer, he walked carefully for the door, past the stoic man and between the two guards - ignoring the reflexive movements of hands toward sword-hilts - and continued on down the hall as indicated. Behind him, he heard the three sets of feet falling into step, flanking him. Left unspoken was the threat that they were all ready to cut him down if he did anything even remotely hinting at potential escape or attack.
There were two others waiting in the guardsroom, in more traditional Whites. One was the Herald that Kyn had struggled briefly with; middle-aged, straw-haired and freckled, candid blue eyes that somehow managed to look guileless and wary at the same time. The man flinched as he focused on Kyn when they emerged from the shadowed interior of the gaol. At the merchant's blood, or the person that performed the act that spilled it?
:Neither.:
He managed to cut off the rest of Sianni's words somehow through a desperate act of pushing, a curious non-sensation of shoving away a thought and then letting a wall of silence fall between them by completely ignoring that particular corner of his consciousness. Satisfied at last that he had found at least a temporary solution to her roaming unfettered through his mind, he turned his attention to the last Herald as Alberich and the guards filed in. Petite. Female. She had reddish-brown hair streaked with gray that had just enough curl in it to make it kink interestingly from the rough bun it was piled into at the back of her head. Gray eyes settled on him briefly with a mix of emotions that he couldn't interpret, and then they slid past him to the un-Herald. "Are we ready, then?" she asked.
Kyn more sensed than saw Alberich's glance toward the guards, heard their uneasy shuffle before one of them gave a grunt of assent and handed something over. "Was the only thing we found on 'im," the guard muttered, which meant the knife that Kyn had used to kill the merchant.
The un-Herald didn't bother replying, tucking the weapon away somewhere before he strode into Kyn's line of vision. Sensing the man's regard, he finally lifted his head, face emotionless, meeting the waiting, expectant gaze. "To the Collegium we are going now. No foolishness will you contemplate along the way." Absolute command there, as if Alberich would control Kyn's thoughts as fully as he would handle him physically.
Kyn did not bother scoffing or protesting as he was led out into the night.
Sianni waited at the gaol's entrance, along with three other Companions. Though the others were tacked in ice-blue trappings, she bore nothing but a plain leather saddle and hackamore. When they emerged, she whickered softly in greeting, venturing to nose him affectionately. Kyn shrank back from her motion with a soft hiss and a glare, and though she stopped just short of touching him, she looked undeterred as she waited patiently for him to mount.
"How can he...hurts to refuse a..." the sand-haired Herald murmured to the woman as they mounted. Kyn caught even less of the reply as, under Alberich's watchful gaze, he clambered his way up onto Sianni's back, hunched over until his vision cleared and the illusory teeth gnawing at his hand from when he forgot and tried to use it relented somewhat.
Thankfully, Sianni left him alone on the way toward the collegium's grounds, seemingly content in merely being in contact with him. Swinging wildly between complete apathy and a trapped animal's unreasoning panic, he didn't think he would have been able to handle a voice talking back to him in his own head for much longer without something breaking, either his sanity or more of his bones when Alberich would have been forced to subdue him.
He didn't know whether he should care or not that Heralds had somehow managed to obtain permission to move a killer from the city gaols. Or that the guards had handed him over with little more than a token grumble.
The Companions made little or no sound as they ghosted through the streets, and it was no wonder now that Sianni had been able to sneak up on him. Of course, then it begged the question of how the city guards had become involved, for it was surely their mounts that he had heard racketing toward the merchant's estate. And though it were the Heralds that had happened on him first, it were the guards that had held him until he had awakened. Enough, he growled to himself in frustration. There was no use in the paths his thoughts meandered down now.
:We knew something was going to happen, but not what,: Sianni interjected herself helpfully. :It seemed prudent to request for as much help as possible, and they happened to be near at hand.: There seemed to be a faint note of annoyance and regret that flavored her words though, but he didn't have a fine enough grasp yet to sort it out. If he were inclined to expend the effort to do so at all. Pointedly ignoring her, he stared blankly ahead, letting the others determine their course - not that he even imagined Sianni would heed any cues from him anyway concerning their destination - and barely even noticed as they passed the last row of houses and then through the innermost wall guarding palace and collegia.
Trees. Grass. A small stream, and the looming sides of various buildings. In the moonlight, everything acquired a flat, colorless, silvery cast that he had no trouble making out details in. Habit made him note the distance and direction that they traveled, but fatalism kept him from pondering possible escape routes. Eventually, their goal became clear in the shape of a long, wood-built shelter just inside the boundaries of a huge, fenced sward. As the Companions filed one by one through a gate, he cradled his aching hand a little closer to himself, unable to keep the tension from worming its way into his muscles no matter how many times he told himself whatever happened didn't matter.
One side of the shelter was lined with what looked like half-completed stalls, all door-less, all maintained with meticulous care, lined by piles of clean straw with mangers filled by water, oats, clover, and other equine delicacies. But the majority of the wooden building was devoted to tack and the tools that cared for horses and their accoutrements, as well as a closed door or two behind which, presumably, the rooms were either being used as living quarters or storage space. The Companions walked up to the section of the wall lined by hackamores in varying styles and conditions in unspoken accord, stopping to let their riders off. Kyn followed the Heralds' actions without protest, sliding off gingerly and letting his aching forehead rest briefly against the worn leather of the saddle. Sianni's velvety nose nudged his elbow before he even noticed through the numbing fog filling his brain that she had moved, and he belatedly flinched before pushing resolutely away, composing his face into a grim mask and refusing to look at her.
The straw-haired Herald sighed as he stowed his Companion's gear in their respective places, dragging a hand through his ragged locks as he eyed Kyn appraisingly when he was done. "Well, now that we have him, what're we going t'do with him?"
"First things first. That hand needs looking at," the woman said smartly, walking forward and reaching out.
Kyn stepped back sharply, hiding his start as he unexpectedly thumped into the wooden siding of a stall, and curled his good hand into a fist. He tried to console himself that it did not matter that his attention had lapsed so badly, he hadn't memorized the placement of things in his immediate area on sight. Such training would be useless to him in a bare handful of days. "Don't bother," he informed coldly.
The woman arched one thin eyebrow, apparently unimpressed by his bravado.
"Convinced he is that in four days' time, dead he will be," the un-Herald mentioned in an off-hand tone, replacing the last of his Companion and Sianni's tack. Kyn's lips tightened as he sent a flat glare toward Sianni for letting that information slip.
"Dead of what? Does this mean the watch we put on him should be for a potential suicide, rather than escape?" the woman asked with brisk, business-like efficiency, eyes steady on him throughout the conversation. "You should know by now, boy, that we have no intention of executing you."
"Yet," the third Herald added sourly, rubbing the spot in his midriff where Kyn's elbow had connected. Sobering, he continued, "Chosen or not, remember what he did tonight. And what else he might have done."
Kyn offered no opinions of his own, merely maintained the same flat, unfeeling expression he had adopted after the one lapse in admonishing Sianni.
"The last major lead, this lad has done with tonight," Alberich noted darkly, positioning himself within reach of Kyn. "The last lead we have he is now."
The woman frowned. "I suppose, with Sovnessan dead, there's little use in our floundering about blindly. We're dead in the waters for at least a week before a breeze will even begin to sniff around us. But still, I would like to have him Truth-Spelled tonight. There's no point in putting off what we can shell- "
There was a reproachful snort as Sianni finally interrupted, interposing herself between Kyn and the two white-uniformed Heralds, nearly blocking him from sight completely with her bulk. Alberich, who stood impassively on the other side, received a limpid blue-eyed stare, to which he responded with a shrug and an obliging step back, out of Kyn's personal space.
:Kyn needs to see a Healer, and he must be convinced to take sustenance. There is also the matter of his protection to be arranged - :
"His protection?" the straw-haired Herald spluttered, glancing toward his Companion as if the information had been relayed, and the equine-like being merely flicked an ear lazily in the equivalent of a shrug. "He seemed t'know how t'defend himself well enough tonight," the Herald continued carefully, warning in the look he cast Sianni's way. "T'the detriment of a particular merchant, might I add."
:His protection,: Sianni continued, undaunted. :He won't tell me what the perceived danger is, but it is most certainly external in nature.:
You mean there's something you haven't managed to pry out of my head yet? he thought acidly toward her.
Sianni swung her head around to pin him with a too-blue eye. :Understand, Chosen, that everything I have learned from you so far has been given to me. Perhaps unwittingly, but I have not and will never 'pry' in your head without permission.:
And does that generosity extend to keeping them from prying into my head as well? he sneered back at her.
She blinked, dipped her head sadly as a sigh ghosted through his mind, and turned back to the Heralds to address something that had been asked in the meantime. But not before she added wistfully, :I love you, Chosen. I wish you could understand that I would do everything possible to insure your well being.:
He stared at her, letting the rest of the exchange flow around him without heed.
The dry husk of a wheat germ had somehow found its way into Sianni's mane, a bronze accent in the moonlit strands. The fingers of his good hand twitched, and he absently reached out to comb it from the silky locks.
Love? What did a horse know about love?
For that matter, his own voice added snidely, what do you?