* * *
Lyric
* * *
I notice, before I start, that neither Mewgul nor Gerald's shenanigan have followed us in - choosing instead to twine about Faun's ankles or knead Elam's face. They're wise. I wouldn't go in here if I didn't think it was necessary.
And this is very necessary. Faun explained that to me on the way. I can also just tell on my own - some pressing, urgent feeling that I have to get Ebrellin-i out of here as fast as possible. I owe him this, even though it seems like he should owe me something more. But then... Faun and Gerald and I may not be doing Ebrellin-i a kindness by this.
"Do you have a knife?" I try to keep the words light, as if it's just a joke, but this is all too serious. Gerald nods, handing me a small knife from inside of his boot. I test the sharpness with a fingertip and am reminded of just what color my blood is. Is it good to bleed in this chamber? By the look of the back of Ebrellin-i's hand, it's a common occurance.
The room's practically thrumming with energy. I'm so glad my brother is here. It's right that he should be here, protecting me while I do this. I wish it would have been this way when we met in Audiva Rocale. I wish a lot of things would have gone so much differently. But we're here again, the four of us, and it's time for me to put the knife to its work. To do a truly unthinkable thing.
I reach toward Ebrellin-i. My hand moves slowly, and as it does so, Gerald stands ready with Bruce and Wagner. I can feel Faun's attention focused on the King as well. I hope he's truly asleep. Because if he isn't...
Well, I wouldn't blame him for killing me for what we're about to do.
I touch Ebrellin-i, one hand stroking over his cheek. It's different, now. He doesn't have that strange power over me anymore. And because of that, he looks smaller, more delicate. He doesn't look any less dangerous, though. No, more so. If what Faun told me was true, then Ebrellin-i is at his most dangerous right now. He serves as a potential gateway to Nul, and here I am, touching him. I want to jerk away, leave the cell, be done with this business.
But no, I owe him this.
My hand strokes up over his forehead. His eyelids don't so much as twitch when my fingers slide through his hair. And when my hand parts through it and stops at the back of his head, there's no sign of wakefulness from him at all.
"Go on," whispers Faun. One of the shenanigans mews. Then, silence.
Utter silence as I slide the knife through a small chunk of Ebrellin-i's hair, cutting off enough that it could serve as a rope.
"Lyric..." Gerald's voice is tense, advising caution. I'm concentrating on my work, so I can't tell why.
"Just go on," says Faun, sterner now. I'm used to taking orders - and besides, there's no undoing what I've done, I'm in the middle of it. I finish the slice, my other hand tight around the clump of hair that I've just liberated. A black rope that glints green. It's like silk - but coarse and a bit tangled. He hasn't had a proper wash in a few days, of course. And there's no servants to care for his hair in here.
There's just me.
"Okay... done?" I nod. Gerald's voice is still tense. "Get up. Slowly. Back away from him. Leave the cell."
I walk out. I don't look back at Ebrellin-i - something tells me not to. I cradle the rope of hair in my hands, then kneel beside Elam. A few moments later, Gerald's boots scuff along the floor beside me. He's still facing the cell, still aiming his Guns at Ebrellin-i.
After a moment, he lowers them very slowly. He exhales with a curse.
"That was uneventful," says Faun. My eyes flick up to him. He's stroking Mewgul, who's curled up in his arms, purring enough that I wonder that it doesn't rouse Ebrellin-i. Speaking of which...
"What happened?"
Gerald doesn't want to meet my eyes. "Nothing bad," he says.
"Ebrellin-i's eyes opened when you took the knife to his hair. He looked at you." By the tone of Faun's voice, he might as well be describing the weather on a particularly dull day. "He closed his eyes once you both left the cell. Don't worry, the Nul within him isn't fully awake yet. Jhe Katherine didn't speak to him long enough for that, thank all the gods and their rivers."
"Oh," I say. My voice seems far away, but then, I'm trying to think about what Faun just said as little as possible. "Well, got the rope! What now?"
Gerald bites his lip to try to suppress a grin. "Macramé."
* * *
After everything's done, I've got to admit it's a pretty good plan, considering what Gerald had to work with. That being said, I still can't believe we're doing this.
Elam, bless his unconscious self, is lying on the floor of the Peacock King's cell. We tucked a stray pillow under his head and managed to find a spare blanket for him. Gerald says that with the Poetry he worked (while knocking Elam unconscious with the butt of one of his revolvers), Elam won't be awake for at least two hours. If that's not time enough to get us out of here, we're not very good kidnappers at all.
Elam is also wearing a delicately woven belt braided from Ebrellin-i's hair. I put a lot of work into that thing, but something tells me the boy just isn't going to appreciate my efforts. It's a shame, because it's actually quite pretty, and I'd hate for Ebrellin-i's beautiful hair to go to waste. As it is, I tried to cut it from a section of his head where it wouldn't be missed too much. I just hope he doesn't track me down and kill me for it after this is all over. I mean, I'd understand and all, but still. I had to!
We have to get Ebrellin-i out, which means Gerald and I will have to carry him. Faun's staying away from the King as much as he possibly can, which I don't blame him for. I almost wish I could do the same... but I can't abandon him.
Gerald looks down at Ebrellin-i and curses. I jump. "What?"
He lets out a deep sigh. "I forgot." He points to the collar and manacles on Ebrellin-i. The silver glint on them is eerie, almost alive... and definitely threatening. "If we leave those on him, Father will be able to track us no matter how sneaky we are."
"Only as far as my forest," says Faun. "After he enters, I am the only sovereign he can answer to."
Gerald raises an eyebrow at him.
Faun's smile is cryptic. "The old one across the ocean in Chethar has never seen fit to tell us any different. I go on doing my duty as I was made to do it, as do all my kind. The balance is kept." He looks over at Ebrellin-i. "Sometimes it is restored. Let us be off."
* * *
Gerald
* * *
I will admit, my brother isn't the most suitable person to ask when I'm in need of assistance hauling an eight foot tall half-dragon nearly-possessed man out of a cell. But still, he could put a bit more effort into it. All Lyric does is gingerly start to pick up an ankle and then drop it with an 'eep' at the faintest sign of a twitch from Jhe o'Audiva Rocale. This is almost embarassing. I think at this point a shenanigan might be more help. I sigh. "Lyric, I can't drag him out on my own."
The pout he replies with is almost enough to make me cave. I do kind of understand. Lyric's life is pretty much forfeit if Ebrellin-i wakes up and discovers the state of his hair. Still...
"He keeps starting to open his eyes." Lyric looks away, dropping his hands to his sides. "I'm just no help with this, okay? I can barely stand up on my own inside this cell."
Okay, I do concede that's an issue. "Well who else is going to help? Faun can't touch him until we're in the woods."
There's a far-off sound of a throat clearing, and then a familiar yet not familiar at all voice says, "Perhaps I could be of some assistance?" It has the strangest lilt to it, sort of like Camden's accent but somehow not.
I raise an eyebrow. I wave Lyric out of the cell before I step out, then motion for him to stay back by Faun. I walk slowly down the hall, my gait at ease but my reflexes honed. I can draw in a split-second if I need to.
"Oh, good, you're coming." The voice shows definite relief. Where do I know it from? I know it's familiar, and Bruce and Wagner are perking up at the sound of it, as if they're looking forward to having a specific someone to aim at. Within the next few steps, I am illuminated.
It's Cade. Or the man that was left behind after Cade was tried. I was told that he's not being held here as a prisoner, but for his own safety. And, well, it's obvious that no one knows what to do with him right now, and everyone's too busy to figure it out.
Bruce and Wagner are so happy, though. They're waiting for a chance to shoot him. Heck, I am too. I think my narrowed eyes tell Cade everything there is to know concerning the likelihood of that happening. He grins nervously, holding up his hands as if to fend me off. That brings my attention to the odd leather gaunlets strapped over his fingers and forearms. A strange leftover from the Trial.
"I can help, and you really should let me help." He looks to the side, then looks straight at me again. It's weird, seeing his eyes. They're not clouded like they were before, but they have sort of a reddish tint to them even still. Heck, it's weird seeing him at all - before, my eyes would just slide off of him against their own volition. Now I can actually focus on the man - the man who, now that I have a chance to get a close look, has a different appearance than before. His nose is back, for one - and his face isn't as leathery and wrinkled as it was before. He's missing scars and isn't missign his hair anymore - in fact there's a healthy crop of it on his head, red and curly. It almost reminds me of the Akribastes line's manes, but it's a bit darker. Most of all he looks... fresh. New. The part of my Aim that sees the guilt on people can't see it hanging all over him like a shroud, like it was before.
Kathe really did clean him.
"I should, should I?" I raise an eyebrow, my Guns still drawn but not cocked at him. This does not calm him much.
He nods. "It's the only way either of us will get out now. I'm pretty sure I'll just get left here to die, otherwise. I uh... have sort of a hunch, I guess you could say." He sighs. "Or something worse will happen." He has a little trouble meeting my eyes then.
"Really." I cross my arms and my Arms at the same time, then note that the gesture presents more danger to me than it does to Cade. Bruce and Wagner snicker between my ears.
He nods. "I um... well, if I didn't want to starve to death, and I had a way out, I'd take it, of course. But that would get me into a lot of trouble, I think. It's why I've been waiting patiently, even though there's no reason for me to be in here."
"Ahhh." I take the opportunity to change the Arms-crossed posture. Not my best pose. Now I'm just at ease. "So why would this be a problem for you? Can you get out on your own?"
He waggles his fingers in the air. "Maaaaagic," he says, then waves one hand by the lock on his cell. It pops open. "Not even something I do on purpose. Before I would have had to try at it." He inspects his fingers as if Lyric's just given him a manicure. "I think it's something to do with these strange gauntlets. They make me feel a little uneasy, and I don't quite know what they mean. The Advocate gave them to me... to Cade. Well, me by then, I suppose." He sighs, then shrugs. "It's all a bit confusing, so I take it in stride. Anyway, I just closed the cell again the first few times that happened. I don't want any trouble, but..." he shrugs again. "I'm obviously not supposed to be in here."
I nod. "Then come out."
He looks at me dubiously. "And what are you going to do?"
"If you make a funny move, I'll shoot you. Until I trust you, I guess that's the best arrangement. Jhe..."
"Patrick Dannon." There's a bit more guttural to that clan name than my spelling betrays, but I've never been the best with Rhivendish names. He halts for a moment, mouthing over those words again. "Dannon... really?" He sees my questioning glance. "I... don't know if I count as one of their number anymore. Don't know if I even should claim them anymore." He laughs. "But then, it's been such a long, long time since that day, and the joke of it all is that I'm probably the last of that tribe. The one surviving member... I wonder if they would ever have thought..." He drifts off for a few moments. I spin the chamber of Bruce's revolver. Patrick snaps to attention. "Oh, sorry. Time catches up with you, after..." he looks off to the side. "Centuries?"
He loses focus again and pity stirs within me. Whatever Cade was, this man seems to lack, and he certainly seems lost. I want to protect him, or at least guide him. That funny feeling that I always get around the trainees, in fact...
Ah.
"The past is behind you, and no matter how much of it is there, it'll still remain exactly where it was." I holster Bruce and Wagner. "I need your help."
He regains himself and nods. "Yes. Let's be off, then."
And so the unlikely alliance was built.
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