* * *
'Sy
* * *
I don't want to describe the amount of relief that floods into me when I see Lyric for the first time in months, safe whole and healthy. I shouldn't be relieved to take him into custody, even though he's in no danger of Judgment. That fact is hammered home by Diyn's snickering in the back of my mind at the thought of Gerude bringing Lyric to Trial for absolutely no reason.
No, I shouldn't be relieved at all, but damnit Lyric's been away for months, under the authority of a dangerous, conniving woman, directly after getting into the most trouble he's ever been in. Possibly the most trouble any of my children have been in, but that's debateable - I have a very active brood. It's only natural to want to take him home and keep him safe and never let trouble touch him again.
But he's got my brother's eyes, and anything akin to that approach certainly never worked with Luciprochoros. That's a funny thing to accept while tying my son's hands behind his back, but sometimes we have to do strange things to keep our children safe.
I can bind him, you know. Your elder son is already itching to.
I pause, then look up at Gerude, noting the calculated glare he has for Lyric right now. His face frightens me, and worse it worries me. I don't like my children to fight. He means well, but...
My own eyes widen. I push Lyric forward and haul him up onto the Blackirons boy's horse. I give the horse a slap on his hindquarter: "HEEYAH!" I manage to catch Jhe Erynn's eyes before he takes off, and while he seems confused, I'm fairly certain the cogs are already turning in his head. He's a Poet, maybe he even knows what's coming ahead. It would certainly be a mercy for Poetic abilities to actually come in handy for me for once. At the very least, he grabbed onto Lyric so that he didn't fall off.
The horse races away with the two of them, giving me a clear shot. I've already drawn Diyn, and his form shifts into that of a gun so fast that you'd swear he never preferred a trident or a sword. The enemy is already in my sights - a shambling figure just like the ones reported to me. It's a clear shot, but once that one's gone I'll have the others to dispatch.
The shot fires wide right as I hear Diyn mutter a curse in my head that even I don't fully understand. I do hear his admonition to turn. I whip around, his shape shifting into the familiar Trident with the motion, and he swings himself upwards just in time to block a blow from an assailant behind me that I didn't even sense.
Boiling blood and rust, Tesynnodai, I barely saw THAT one coming! Keep your guard up!
Gerude's horse shies. I hear the empty clicks of his guns as he, too, fails to Aim.
The reports echo through my head: human-like enemies that were somehow inhuman, and were extremely difficult to kill, if not impossible. Enemies in the form of my own lost Armed.
A scream rips the air. Gerude almost falls off his horse as it lurches downward, its right back leg suddenly missing a huge amount of flesh. One of our attackers looks up at me, his mouth bloody with horseflesh, his expression that of someone finally sated. Something clenches in my chest.
Jacob? It's been years since I've last seen him. The impulse to lunge forward and check him over and see how I can help him is so strong that I draw on Diyn's strength to overcome it. When Jacob looks back at me, his eyes don't have recognition in them as much so they have hunger.
Gerude clocks him over the head with Kennit, then attempts to urge his horse forward. The horse gamely attempts it, then falls under his and Gerude's weight. My son rolls away, firing Caerig and Kennit blindly as he takes to his feet. The shots don't manage to hit anything, but they make several other assailants give him enough room to take to his feet and run.
I run with him.
"Jhe h... Akribastes?" The words are spoken by a girl whose mouth sounds as if it's all much now, and then I realize she's trying to speak around the horsemeat. I don't turn. I don't slow. "Come back... I haven't seen you in so long, Sire. I'm still Armed, Sire!"
Diyn glares from the back of my mind, but doesn't speak on that.
I'd left my horse out of view behind a wall of tumbled rocks so that Lyric wouldn't detect me. That's the only thing that's kept it safe during this. I make it to my horse first, then pull Gerude up behind me. Then I urge the horse forward before we're dragged down again. Once the animal is moving fast enough, the attackers can't do anything to stop us. It helps that most of them are congregating around what's left of Gerude's horse, taking their dinner.
None of them are bearing Arms, 'Sy. Diyn's voice echoes through my thoughts as I try to find Erynn's trail. None of their Arms will answer my calls. Most of them went silent years ago.
I have no reply for Diyn. I'm still fighting myself about my retreat. Some part of me is convinced I'm abandoning soldiers now, that they are all my Armed. They all were my Armed, once.
* * *
Erynn
* * *
While being pursued by insatiable animated dead ex-comrades, you start to think all this stuff over and wonder just how lucky it is that a non-dead ex-comrade spy managed to escape it all by being slung over your saddle before you burst forward into the desert night like a small dog that Stevane lit on fire. I'd say as much to Lyric, but he's too busy screaming, and I don't really blame him for it. It's just that it really cuts down on things like, well, stealth. Maybe he means to alert his hidden comrades to his plight, after which I shall be assailed by any unknown number of terrors.
No. It would be exciting, but Lyric isn't a ringleader. He's the type to get by on his charisma alone. And I must say, so far it's gotten him a long way, so I can't fault his strategy. Still.
I fwap him against the ear. He yelps once, then quiets. Lyric isn't dumb, and he grasps concepts very quickly. My horse bolts across the desert in blessed silence. We lose what pursuers we had.
It's quiet, the horse is fast. I can think. More importantly, I can perceive. I've been tracking the feel of Lyric's Poetry already - now he's nearby enough that it's even easier to do. He was never taught to counter or hide his trail, it seems, though he's had an obvious natural knack for both traits. Many Poets do, really - it tends to keep those who have yet to be brought into the Poet Hall safe from enemies that might be seeking out fresh young Poet minds. Certainly I'm not one of those forces, though - that must be why Lyric's natural defenses didn't kick in.
...Odd, I came to that conclusion rather quickly. I tend to think more about things before settling on a--
I chuckle. I'm proud of myself that I even caught that. Possibly, Lyric didn't. No, I know he didn't. He's doing all of his Poetry by instinct, natural urges and sheer charisma, which is why it's been so powerful. It's difficult for something that can't be tracked to be countered by any major force in the world. There's no guaranteed counter to a gambit that has no set plan. The thing about that, though, is that means Lyric isn't doing much of this on purpose at all.
Eventually, we have to stop. Jhe h'Akribastes and Gerude are going to have to track us down, after all. It's going to be awhile, though. That much I can be certain of. That means that I'll be alone with Lyric for a good bit of time. We'll have nothing to do but talk.
I find a good set of rocks that doesn't look terribly infested with creatures that want to kill me, then bring my horse to a halt in a little nook hidden away from the rest of the desert. It'll make a good camp, in fact. A nice protected expanse of sand where we can light a little fire and not have it seen by the rest of the world. Already I'm starting to think of it as home. I dismount, then pull Lyric down to stand with his back to me. "Stand still for a moment, would you?" I say nonchalantly. I take a piece of charcoal from my belt, then trace it in a few quick, sweeping marks over the back of his cloak. It takes effect immediately. "Okay," I say, "now take a seat against one of the walls in here, and we'll settle down for awhile."
He looks at me, suspicion on his face, and then does as I ask. I sit across from him, my back against the opposite wall, at ease with the situation, a smile on my face. For a moment, that ramps up his suspicion even more, but he forgets it and, just a bit, also relaxes.
"There." I splay my fingers, then sigh. "We've got to talk, Lyric. Openly. Gerude won't be back here for awhile, so I think you'll be safe saying what you need to say. We've got to hurry, though. He and Jhe h'Akribastes are excellent fighters and trackers. We don't have forever."
He slumps forward, a look of defeat on his face. He takes a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. "How'd I give it away?" he asks, the tone of his voice betraying how crushed he feels.
"Heh. Not really your fault, Lyric. Jhe h'Logos teaches that you can account for your own actions, and you can obscure your actions and their motivations to the best of your ability, but you can't change the abilities of other Poets. There's nothing to be done about how awesome I am." I grin. Lyric rolls his eyes, which is encouraging. It means he's starting to relax.
He leans back against the wall, then closes his eyes, contemplating for a moment. He opens them again, looks at me, and narrows his eyes. "What did you write on me?"
I hold up my hands, caught. "It's a simple measure for my own security. It's hardly permanent. If you'd trained in the Poet Hall as much as I did, you'd be able to throw off the effects without even touching it. But since you haven't been trained in doing these things directly, I can use a cheap trick like that on you." I keep the grin on my face. "Don't feel bad about it. If you really needed to counter it, then you would have managed to not have it drawn on you in the first place."
He looks rather nonplussed now. "That's nice to know, thanks. So... what is the thing, anyway?"
My grin doesn't so much as twitch. It's plastered onto my face, a permanent feature, like a landmark. "It's something teachers in the Poet Hall use to keep trainee Poets from getting into too much trouble. It tends to block passive Poetry pretty well, and keeps em sorta quiet. You new kids tend to be mouthy busybodies."
I swear, from his glare you'd think he's willing me to die where I sit. Maybe he is, at that. But it won't work now! I've certainly taken care of that.
"I know you're working for us as a double-agent. I'm still locking you down even though you're an ally, though, to prove a point. You have to understand what you're up against if you're going to defend yourself against Poets from our own side, Lyric. Hell, you need to take your own brother seriously." I meet Lyric's eyes, the grin sliding from my face. "He's determined to get you, Lyric. He thinks you've turned against everything that your family stands for. He's taking it more personally than I think the Judge would, if the Judge weren't obviously aware of your double-agent status." At that, the seriousness in my visage cracks. "It's not that he isn't un-subtle. He wants to protect you very much, though, and it shows through a bit. Maybe you should revise your plans and avoid his path as much as you can. And avoid Gerude's, definitely. It'll save you all a lot of trouble."
Lyric bites his lip and looks down. "Maybe that is for the best, but what if I need to? I have to do my Duty, even if it brings me into danger's path."
I laugh. "How far into danger's path is your Father going to let you stray when you're directly in front of him?"
He really can't look at me now. "Do you think that's best?"
I nod. "You do your best work out of the nest, as far as I've seen. Just go with your instincts. Your Father will understand."
Lyric's expression is that of obvious relief. He sinks back against the wall, so relaxed that he slides. This has obviously been weighing on his mind. "Tell him I love him."
"No problem." I grin. Then I hear the grind of sand and rock against boot behind me. I turn to check if it's Jhe h'Akribastes or Gerude. I didn't expect either to be here so soon. Heck, I even checked with Poetry--
Something wraps around me in a neat coil, binding my arms. I turn to face Lyric and see him standing over me, hands free. There's a charcoal smudge on the rock wall where he was sitting, and it seems that my crude little seal has been broken. He just grins down at me. "I don't believe in mussing people's faces. So you'll have to find a way to give yourself the bruise. I'm sure you'll manage." Then he starts walking out of the rock circle, away from me.
I raise an eyebrow. "Why do I need a bruise?"
"Because," he says as he disappears from view, "the only way Gerude will believe I got away from you clean is if you tell him I overpowered you with sheer brute force." Then I hear a horse snort, and hooves trotting away.
Oh bloody bones. He's stolen my horse.
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