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Wet Rainbow

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Swinging the torch like a madman, Mirhandar made for the light and the open.

~~~

What happened next, no one in the crowd could say for sure. After Mirhanda**s dash under the platform, armored blackguard had jumped down to secure a circle around the platform, shoving the crowd back with drawn swords and batons. Those with crossbows had knelt down and leveled their weapons at the shadows moving between the beams. When Mirhandar emerged again, the guards were ready, and several quarrels were released with deadly accuracy. The first few shafts went straight through Mirhandar and he stopped, and stared at the guards as more bolts were fired. Then something red began to spread across his chest and he dropped silently to his knees. The boy fell from his shoulder to sprawl on the ground and there was a sudden disturbance and murmuring amongst the crowd. One blackguard raised his hand to stop the volleys, and the throng hushed as it became apparent that something was wrong with the body. Mirhandar fell forward, but no sound came from the impact between his body and the flagstones. As the Burthorpians watched, his form and the boy’s slowly melted away, seeping into the ground as though made of water. Several guards rushed forward, but by the time they reached the site it was too late. Both bodies had disappeared.

There was a period of muttered confusion as people shuffled about the empty courtyard, but then rain started to fall and people scattered, heading for shelter. The rain quickly intensified, and soon became a dense curtain of water, spilling down, pelting down, water dense enough to drown in falling from the sky.

~~~

26-Jun-2008 19:32:05 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 16:54:59 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

Posts: 786 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Atop a nearby blacksmith a figure stood. Shadow seemed to congregate around it, clothe it, so that if anyone chanced to glance upwards all they would see were two eyes glinting amongst darkness. Below it, the bellows breathed restlessly, as they had ever since news of the impending Ardo-Faladorian conflict had reached Burthorpe, but the figure seemed undisturbed by them. Its attention was held rapt by the happenings upon the stage. Events were unfolding just as the mirror had foretold…

It watched avidly as the brawny man burst out from under the scaffold, and also as the Blackguard shot him down, but its eyes did not linger long on the body. They seemed to follow something else, something that moved through the crowds and disappeared down one of the streets intersecting the courtyard. Silent as a whisper, the figure turned and vanished into shadow.

26-Jun-2008 19:32:12 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 16:55:22 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

Posts: 786 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

~~~

It was night. The man beneath the overhang was in the process of falling asleep, lulled by the endless drip of rain that ran in rivulets down the rocks to either side of him and formed a lucent pane in front. Every so often a burst of lightning would turn the pane into a sheet of silver, and as he nodded off the man imagined that the wall of rain was a silver door, endlessly melting into the ground. Despite the fact that he wore only loose robes, his body felt comfortably warm and his skin did not goosebump in the frigid air. His eyelids drooped, and he smiled as yet another burst of lightning painted the rain electric-white. But the next moment found him wide awake. There had been a figure silhouetted in that flash of lightning, blurred through the rain. As he watched, something dark approached the recess, staggering and stopping a few feet short to drop the bundle it had been carrying to the ground. It fell heavily beside its burden, and stayed there. Within the recess, the man stood slowly then swept out through the curtain of rain to investigate.

~~~

Mirhandar did not look up as Sage approached; he sat on the sodden ground and let the rain drench his black tunic and chain mail. The torchbearer’s face, usually clean-cut, looked disheveled and half-mad as he concentrated on removing a crossbow quarrel from his leg. Rain matted black hair to his forehead, and his breath came in pants.

Sage ignored him and knelt by the form of Mortmyre, running his fingers over the boy’s body and muttering under his breath. The kid looked like something a cat might leave on its owner’s doorstep: he lay curled up in a fetal position, his clothes torn and blotched, his brown hair gritty. Several minutes passed before anyone spoke.

26-Jun-2008 19:32:17 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 16:57:28 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

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“Zam-****** Sage,” Mirhandar growled at last, “you promised rain.” He winced as he tried to pull the shaft out of his thigh again, then added “Gods*** you,” when Sage did not respond. Rain turned the blood on his hands into a rosy tincture that was soon washed away in the downpour. Somewhere nearby, a creature howled, or maybe it was just the wind.

“They had a mage as well.” Sage spoke so quietly Mirhandar thought he hadn’t heard correctly. The druid was sitting up now, looking at the blackguard.

“What?” Mirhandar asked.

“The **** hypocrites had a mage. At the top of Burthorpe keep. I tried to make it rain, but he formed some kind of air dome above the city and I - I tried to break it but that ******* was strong.”

Mirhandar grunted. He tugged at the bolt again and felt another nauseating wave of pain sweep through him. He sat a few seconds as the world spun.

“We have to go.” Sage said. “We have to go now, Mir. I’m afraid the mage could trace me. I ended up weaving a glamour in the end. It turned you invisible and faked your death but it was hurried and far from convincing, especially to a mage. If he saw me...”

Mirhanda*'s head thro(cen)*bed. “I can’t go, Sage,” he growled, “I’ve got a ******* bolt in my leg. Hurts like a *****. If you’d have cast that thing sooner...”

“You’re lucky I did it in time,” Sage said.

“I’m lucky?” Mirhandar shouted. “Who has the ****** bolts stuck in their leg? Who can’t - can’t -” he sputtered, standing, then stopped and staggered as a sudden, sharp pain lanced through his head. “Can’t -”

He did*’t realize he had fallen until the hard ground hit his back. His head connected with a crack and he lay there, a dull tempo pounding behind his eyes, echoing through his body. Above him a thousand freezing drops pelted out of the gray, numbing the sudden flush of heat that spread across his face. Thunder rumbled and lightning answered, transforming the falling rain into a million shards of jagged crystal.

26-Jun-2008 19:32:23 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:00:12 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

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“Mirhandar!” Sage was kneeling over him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Mirhandar breathed, “yeah, yeah -” but he did*’t seem to be. Everything was swaying.

Sage removed a pouch from his side. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Mirhandar tried to wave him away, “I’m just…I can’t move.” The hand that he’d meant to use remained at his side. His heart stuttered in panic. No matter how he willed his body, it seemed petrified, as though the constant rain pinned it down. “I can’t move!” Even his words sounded strangled to his ears.

“Calm down,” Sage said, but Mirhandar was panicking. His breaths quickened and he started to cough as rain filled his mouth. Sage laid his hands on Mirhanda**s shoulders and muttered indistinguishable words that left a dizzying sense of deja vu in Mirhanda*** mind. A jolt raced through Mirhanda*** body that left his arms and legs tingling. But when Sage removed his hands, Mirhanda*** immobility remained. “It’s kwuarm…” Sage murmured.

“Whad?” Mirhandar choked.

“Kwuarm, a paralyzing herb. There’s also a lot of heat running through you at the moment - dragonbalm, perhaps. The bolts must have been poisoned...”

Mirhandar spat out water.

Sage glanced over to where the boy lay, protected from the elements by a thin shield of air. He could leave Mirhandar here to die, and ensure his and the boy’s survival…

Watching Sage’s indecision, Mirhandar became even more panicked. Water gargled over his beard as he choked on the rain. Sage stood up and Mirhandar almost lost hope, but then the druid leaned back down. “Listen,” he hissed in Mirhanda**s ear. “I am going to trust you with my life and the boy’s, and if you follow my directions there will be more gold down the road, much more.” Mirhandar tried to nod, but found he couldn’t. “I am going to cast a spell and after…after I cast the spell, I will become unconscious. You must bring the boy and I to the druid’s circle southeast of here. Do you understand?”

26-Jun-2008 19:32:59 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:00:53 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

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Mirhandar could give no acknowledgement. “There is more at stake here than you can imagine.” Mirhandar gurgled urgently. “Alright…” Sage paused, then put his hands on Mirhanda*** chest. “Alright.” He took a deep breath. “Sara guide me...”

When he drew, the Sa came from deep within the rain-chilled shell of the earth. The energy filled him, and he forced it out through his fingers, into Mirhanda*** body, then drew it back out again. Something accompanied its return though, Sage felt Mirhanda*** affliction begin to settle into his own bones, freezing them in place. He drew as long as he could before summoning the druid sleep and slipping into the dark realm of unconsciousness.

26-Jun-2008 19:33:50 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:01:16 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

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CHAPTER 3: MORTMYRE

He woke as though drifting up through layers of darkness, everything blending eventually towards a warm red. For a short while an image of a tree played behind his eyelids, a tree beneath which a beautiful woman sat, blue eyes deeper than the sea, hair black as midnight. And then that was gone as well and only a whispered word remained: “Mort”. He smiled.

Slowly sensation returned (or maybe he had never sensed things in the first place, he couldn’t remember): his head thro(cen)*bed slightly, and when he tried to open his eyes, he had to blink a few times before becoming accustomed to the harsh, morning brightness. He was sitting against something hard. A vertical stone slab, he guessed, judging by the other large rocks nearby. They formed a ring around an empty dais that resembled a crude rectangular table, but whose surface was covered with gouge-marks and faded, black stains. Mort wondered briefly what could have caused them, then noticed that there were similar markings on the encircling stones as well as scuff marks on the ground. He tried to stand but a sudden fetid stench made his gorge rise and a clicking as of stone on stone caused him to turn and become dizzy. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something moving, and turned again, but there was nothing. He sat back against the stone and closed his eyes.

“Oy! Mort!”

He could have sworn it had only been seconds, but when he opened his eyes it was night. Someone was bending over him, pressing a cold object into his hand.

“Oy! You’re up!”

He could hear a scraping from the dais, but the person blocked his view. The ripe stench was stronger now, sickeningly sweet. He could smell sweat, *****, and a hint of blood that made his mouth water.

“You know what to do. C’orn, up!”

26-Jun-2008 19:33:55 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:07:13 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

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He was holding a dagger made of black glass, Mort realized. Its edges were razor sharp. Mort pushed himself onto unsteady feet, and as he stood the whole scene wobbled violently before resettling. “C’orn,” the man was saying, gesturing and hobbling forward. He looked crooked and broken in the dark. Mort hesitated. On the dais, something panted. It wasn’t human. Bristles of hair on the creature’s snout reflected the light of a full moon that hung in the cloudless sky overhead. Tatters of clothing hung from its body, as well as strands of something that glistened. As Mort watched, it arched its back and howled. A sudden desire to draw blood gripped him, but it was balanced by a sense that something wasn’t right.

“C’orn. Don’t take all night.”

Again the creature howled, a wretched, horrible baying that set Mort’s nerves on end, and this time it twisted on the stone table, long, clawed feet scrabbling for purchase, and Mort caught a glimpse of its desperate, demented eyes.

“Mort,” a deep voice said.

The world capsized and Mort closed his eyes against the sudden nausea that accompanied its turning. For a second he saw a woman sitting on a hill beneath a tree and then the outside righted itself once more and when he opened his eyes it was day. Long morning shadows fell across the empty dais. The only signs of the previous encounter were scratch-marks in the stone and a faint whiff of something rank. A man dressed in white robes stood next to him, one hand on Mort’s shoulder. Another person, this one in dented, black chain mail, sat snoring against one of the stones.

“Disregard it, Mort,” the man in white said.

“What - what was it?” Mort rasped, taking in the man’s face: the brown hair, bald on top so it resembled a tawny halo circling his temples, the stubble on his chin, the youthful lines of his face that clashed with the age apparent in his auburn eyes. A hunted smell emanated from him.

26-Jun-2008 19:34:41 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:08:27 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

Posts: 786 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

“Memories,” the man said, bending down quickly to etch a spiral in the dirt, “the past. Things better left forgotten. I’ll explain later. We have to go if we want to make Taverly by nightfall.” He cupped his hands, murmured something into them, and there was a flash of light and a creature the size of a firefly albeit much brighter jumped from the spiral into his fingers. The man threw the thing up into the air and it flitted around for a moment as though unsure of what to do. Then, with a bright spark, it arced up and away from the druid circle and over the surrounding grasslands to disappear amongst the mountains and dark clouds that brooded upon the western horizon.

“What was that?” Mort asked once the thing had become obscured by clouds, but the man in white ignored him, removing a pouch from his side and tossing it near where the man in black lay. It jingled as it hit the ground. He then came back to Mort and put both hands on Mort’s shoulders. “Hold still,” he said, *I doubt they’re tracing you, but it*s a risk I’m not willing to take. This might tingle.”

But Mort did*’t hear him. He had just glimpsed the insignia on the sleeping man’s chain mail: a mountain split in two behind a clenched fist. “Crystal,” he whispered without knowing why. Darkness flickered at the edge of his vision and suddenly the distant mountains seemed to bend, contorting into monstrous shapes. The sun-tinged clouds sparked and burst into fire that surrounded him as he felt groggily at a glass casing. He couldn’t get out but he could see people on the other side, freakish specters distorted through the glass. They were talking but he couldn’t hear them. Someone came close and Mort saw that his chest bore a picture of a fist in front of a bifurcated mountain, but the man’s face was just a blotch of gray. Then all sight was washed out by a blue flame that splintered the world into bars of dark and light; dark and ochre.

26-Jun-2008 19:35:57 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:10:09 by Wet Rainbow

Wet Rainbow

Posts: 786 Gold Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Something scratched his back. Something cackled. Mort hoped they weren’t the same somethings. Opening his eyes did nothing to alleviate the blackness around him, above him, below him. An excre(cen)mental smell drifted from his left, and reaching out he found a cold, stone wall to his right. “Hello?” he called, and his voice reverberated hollowly.

“Hello?” the cackling voice echoed. It came from his right, beyond the wall.

“Where am I?”

A long silence elapsed before the voice responded. “The abyss,” it said, then giggled hysterically. “Zam’s dimension.”

“Shut your hole,” a second, deeper voice barked. Several thuds as of wood on wood resounded.

“They’ll get you too Sent,” the first voice crooned. “Oohoo yes, they will. They’ve a knack for hanging the innocents.*

*Shut your Zamdammed *****hole!”

“They’re a-coming.” The voice was almost sing-song now. “They’re a-coming for you…”

“That’s it!” The second voice roared. Mort heard footsteps in the darkness. He rose and searched desperately for an exit, probing the walls with trembling fingers. But there was nothing, he seemed interred in a room of seamless stone. A sound of keys jingling preceded the creak of a door. The voice began to cackle again, only to stop and then scream as several thumps broke the stillness. The beating continued and Mort searched for a way out, the shrieks echoing and echoing and…

It was no longer dark. Sunlight flared brilliantly overhead and he lay on a hillock covered in soft grass. Before him a tree stood. A beautiful woman lounged beneath it stroking the head of the gigantic wolf that lay beside her. For a moment Mort lay motionless, afraid the image would disappear. And then the woman looked up, looked straight at him. “Mort,” she said. “Come.”

26-Jun-2008 19:36:03 - Last edited on 30-Jun-2008 17:12:13 by Wet Rainbow

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