King Ad Rock
Abednego
The following was originally posted by @Lakita in the previous IC
@Lakita as
Traveler Maerwynn T'Iiosha
@Lakita as
Traveler Maerwynn T'Iiosha
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Location: The road to the T'Odis Gate, T'Odis
Date: Month 6, day 15
Time: Between the first hour and second hour of morning (1:30 A.M.)
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It had stopped snowing a while ago.
"It's the moon, Maerwynn. See how it shines?"
As the trading caravans trudged along the white path, Maerwynn T'Iiosha couldn't help but remember the old stories her father used to tell her.
"Squinting girl. Moon and Sun aren't that different, are they?"
"Good. You'll always be able to find your way home. Just follow the moon."
She sighed, letting a small cloud dissipate out her mouth. The jostling of the wagon kept her awake, but even if the ride had been smoother - sleep was a doubtful dream. Now that she was out of the woods, the world it seemed, was covered in white.
"I am on the moon, Father."
"Whudderya talkin' bout ova dere?"
Had she been so loud? Maerwynn pulled her furs closer to her body before grunting out a curt, "Nothing". That's right, she wasn't on the moon. The caravan had picked her up just on the outskirts of the forest - she'd had to trade her own-made snowshoes to earn passage. There were three other merchants - at least she assumed they were merchants - shacked up with her for the ride, not including their driver. A small oil lamp burned merrily, illuminating small pockets of light inside. Packed in-between furs, sacks, crates, and people, Maerwynn felt that it was as warm and as comfortable as a late-night caravan ride could be. All in all, it totaled to five people to share the night with. Five people and two horses to make it out of the country before the next snow-storm hit.
She glanced back inside to see the speaker pack in tobacco in his pipe with his thumb. A flick and spark of a match later, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air and made Maerwynn sneeze.
"Whurya frum, anyhow? Tis'aint everyday we gots a little gel all by her lonesome."
"I am not a little girl."
"Aye. Eyecanna see dat, cannasee dat." He gestured at her hidden figure.
"Lil' missus all grown up unda dose furs, eyebetcha." He took another puff on his pipe before chortling.
"Aim jess jokin', Ma'am, jess jokin'. Ugly as sin, Ol' Pyper may be, but ne'er leddit anything be sed oyf my honawh."
Maerwynn raised her brows slightly but put the issue to rest. Living in the North, especially in the Frozen Forest, didn't exactly raise men with the chivalrous attitudes she so often read of in her books. No, the Northerners were crude, hearty, and rough around the edges - fun for a quick tumble perhaps, but not exactly court material.
Not that she had ever been to one, of course. Besides the fairy-tales her father had bought her- she must've read the same one over a hundred times - Maerwynn had spent most of her life stuck in the woods. The concept of leaving, admittedly, filled her with as much dread as it did anticipation.
"It does look like the moon..."
Having had enough of the silent hills, she poked her head back into the warmth of the caravan. It was a rickety old thing and it smelt too much of the goods it carried. In this case, the slightly rancid smell of deer hide filled her nostrils.
"Cawld nigh', eesn't et? Yesure dat blanket's enuf?"
Well, deer hide and the tobacco of her new-found companion. Reminded of the rest of the "Caravanners", Maerwynn turned around to observe them. Besides "Ol' Pyper", who was as stout as a beer barrel, the rest of them seemed fairly ordinary. Dressed with fur cloaks and with wind chapped faces, these were definitely the merchants that she was associated with. A slight movement in the back suddenly alerted her to a sixth companion - one whom she had missed among all the goods and the dark.
He was tall for a man, even sitting down. Maerwynn estimated him to be about 6 feet four standing up, at the very least. Draped in a cloak with a mask, she couldn't make out much more of his face besides his eyes. His deep grey eyes, speckled with bright flecks of blue, were piercing in the dark. Worst of all, it meant that he had been awake and was acutely aware of her deep scrutiny.
Maerwynn turned her head abruptly, causing a small crick! to sound through the caravan. She hadn't even seen him at first, how had she missed such a strange man? He didn't look like a merchant, save for his clothes. He seemed too well fed (or perhaps, looking at Pyper, fed just enough) to be making a living off selling wares. But then again, there were stranger things than an in-shape merchant in the North.
Much stranger things.
Thoughts of her Father’s ill-gotten fate befell her again, and Maerwynn returned to brood in the shadows. It had been a week and a half or so since she had left her home - a feat only achievable with her beloved snow-shoes, of which lay stuffed deep amongst the other goods. She’d have to buy them back someday.
She'd never seen anything like the disease her father had succumbed to. A deadly thing which caused its victims to freeze up like blocks of ice and yet sustain them for days on what seemed to be nothing. If she didn't know better, Maerwynn would have claimed it to be magic. She touched her lips thoughtfully, still remembering how cold his forehead had felt.
“I wonder…”
She sighed, letting out another cloud of frosty air. Had she been let into the capital city, L'Aorn, this would have been so much easier. Regrettably, it seemed that it was under lock-down under some strange circumstances, and under the threat of death Maerwynn had set out to return empty-handed. It was a stroke of luck that had led the caravan to her. A stroke of luck that had given her the crazy idea of leaving the country to look for a cure – she hadn’t even checked to see if her father had frozen to death. A horrible feeling began to rise in her stomach, shadows of a selfish desire which she desperately kept at bay.
No. No. I did it for Father. I am not a coward.
Desperate for something, anything to divert her thoughts, Maerwynn resumed the conversation that Pyper had so rudely begun.
“Uhmm… you are a merchant, yes?”
Rousing from his slumber, the old man eagerly brought himself to speak (quite as if he had been waiting for this to happen, she observed).
“Oiyem, yessumm, Miss, quite right, quite right! I, why, aim be selling mayh wares for um, um, since I be a young lad meself, no dou-“
“Uhm, yes. Yes, I felt like you were going to say that.”
She used the silence used while he took another puff to carry on.
“So! You probably traveled all around the world, yes? Ha-“
“Ahhh, awcous, awcouse! Aimbeen awll ovuh, frum da mounteens o’Teeawdis to da deserts o’In… In… well, whuever ees cawled. Lemme tellyuh summin, wance I eve-“
“-sease, like it free-“
“-uwnd, lil’ gal like yaself ne’er e’er been owut en aboot, naow dee-“
“SHUT UP!”
With a start, Maerwynn and Pyper grew silent and stared at the outstretched hand. The now awoken merchant, skinny as he was, stretched out and pointed outside the caravan.
“Lookit that… the Night Eyes of T’Odis.”
Maerwynn craned her neck to see a black silhouette of a large tower contrasted against the moonlit sky. It seemed breathtaking and slightly ominous. The closer the horses got to the structure, the tighter the feeling in her chest became. For once, Pyper had shut his mouth and extinguished his pipe. As the smell of smoke faded away, the air seemed to grow much colder. The pointing man’s eyes grew wider to the point of popping before he let out a shaky breath. Whatever this “Night Eyes of T’Odis” was, Maerwynn was sure that it didn’t signal good fortune.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“The guard towers… they can see everything in the country that moves.”
“T’aint good ter pass by, lass, ‘specially annight. ‘Tis a bad omen for us merchants.”
Maerwynn shivered, though whether it was from the night air or the tower, she did not know. As they passed in relative silence, save for their heavy breathing and the nervous nickering of the horses, she saw the tower recede and grow smaller and smaller into the distance.
“Is it safe?”
“All’s waell. All’s waell. S’long as eet’s nawt on fire, all’s waell.”
“On fire?”
“S’course! ‘Ow else arryegonna usem?”
Maerwynn leant back against a particularly comfortable rucksack before letting tension she didn’t even know she had seep out of her back. Just around a week into her journey and she had already seen such amazing things. The ice mountain city of L’Aorn, and now this “Night Eyes of T’Odis” – she really was a country girl after all. She closed her eyes, trying to preserve the memory of the night.
A horse whinnied.
Then she saw them.
At first, Maerwynn assumed them to be trees in the horizon. As she squinted her eyes however, it became apparent to her that they were horsemen – rapidly arriving horsemen at that. And unless it was an urgent message, none of which she suspected would be delivered to the likes of her compatriots, they meant danger. She had seen enough bandit raids to sense malicious intent when she felt it and right now, the hairs on her neck were bristling.
“Wha-“
Before she could finish her sentence, Maerwynn saw her second greatest event of the night – the top of the tower which they had passed burst into flame. With a great whoosh and a crackle of firewood, the once black tower was crowned with light. The fire was so great that she could feel the heat on her face and she had to squint her eyes.
A sun, she thought. This is no fire. It is a sun.
“The Night Eyes! They are open!” The skinny merchant practically wailed before burying his face in the blankets.
“Ride! Ride! Git dose ‘orses a’movin’, dammit!” The distinctive voice of Pyper penetrated her ears and the incoming crack of the driver’s whip lurched the caravan ahead. Maerwynn gripped the wooden skeleton of the caravan as it made its way through the snow. If it had been a bumpy ride before, the ensuing chase had made it into a veritable earthquake. It was all she could do to not fall out and even at this breakneck speed – the mysterious horsemen were catching up.
“Oh, oh!” Maerwynn half whined, half groaned, as a crate fell on her head. “Hey! I think they’re catching up! Go faster, guys!” At this range, she could almost see the foam frothing at their steeds’ mouths.
They were tall men – impossibly tall men. The moonlight glinted off their strange armour and they carried a regal air about them. This was no bandit raid and these were no bandits. They seemed like those chess pieces she kept at home – emotionless, in sync, and unstoppable. One shouted a phrase in which she recognized as the T’Odis language – having learnt enough to communicate with customers – and the group splintered off into three assailants on each side of the caravan. Their spears were illuminated by the “Night Eyes” and were soon driven into the wooden stokes of the caravan.
“Arghh!” The caravan jostled about, almost veering off-course before the driver reined in the horses.
“Gettem off!” was his only response before he resumed his wrestle with his beasts of burden. Maerwynn grit her teeth before another jarring shock sent her tumbling around inside. Smashing into a pile of stinking hides, she spotted her crossbow jammed in a corner. The other merchants were cowering, even now unwilling to throw away their wares to delay the attackers. “What?! What?! Help me, you guys!”
Another shock.
This caravan will not last much longer, she thought grimly. “Fine, give me my crossbow!”
“Right ye’re, no prob-“
“Here, give it here, just give it!”
Snatching her weapon from someone’s – she couldn’t tell who, not in the commotion – hands, Maerwynn steadied herself by leaning against some crates. “Urgh!”
She pulled back on the heavy bowstring, using her feet and body for leverage. Struggling to fit in a bolt, she was unaware of what her comrades were doing – if they were even helping at all. Finally, impossibly, she was able to lift her crossbow up to her shoulder. She had no idea of how much time had passed but judging from the rattling of the caravan, it wouldn’t hold up for much longer. She took in a deep breath and held it, using her father’s teachings. A click of the trigger launched the steel bolt towards her assailants but another jolt caused her to fly sideways and fuck up her shot. It hit nothing but the snow.
“I can see the gates! Aren’t even closed yet!”
Amidst the gibbering praying of the merchants, the panicked whinnying of the horses, and the continuous crunching of the lances against wood, Maerwynn whooped out of triumph. By craning her neck, she could see the mountains quickly coming into view. Along with a monstrous gate, if it could even be called one. It was more of a huge chunk of rock outfitted with a great portcullis. If it wasn’t for the clearly man made turrets on top, Maerwynn would have thought it to be part of the mountains themselves.
Perhaps growing desperate by seeing that the gates were nowhere near closing, the horsemen redoubled their efforts and hacked away at the ropes connecting them to the horses. With a sudden schriiipp, Maerwynn watched as a steel blade cut through the fur clothed top and into the chest of a praying mercenary. A spurt of blood jetted out and stained her flushed face, causing her to blink.
Krakoom!
When next she opened her eyes, Maerwynn found herself slumped in the wreckage of what had been the caravan. She blearily blinked her eyes. Once. Twice. Everything hurt and there was the familiar metallic taste of blood in her mouth. A numb ringing made her deaf and every time she rolled her eyes spots of blackness threatened to extinguish her sight.
“Haaughh…” She fought to take in a breath. It felt as if Pyper, the fat merchant from earlier, had been sitting on her chest. It was also a struggle to move especially when her limbs felt like deadwood. For now, it was all she could do to catch her breath and watch the sky.
And watch.
And watch.
Until Maerwynn saw a black spiral come spiraling through the night sky, so black that it stood out even in the dark. It seemed to suck in all the stars’ lights in the sky before it lazily swallowed up the moon. Suddenly, Maerwynn couldn’t tell if she had opened her eyes or closed them. She opened her mouth and screamed. An unadulterated expression of pure frustration in the situation she found herself stuck in. A rumble shook the very land before a blinding blue bolt pierced through the darkness. The light showed off the black clouds, rolling and crashing about in the sky. It was a violent storm and it reminded her of the sea.
An ocean in the sky.
Maerwynn half laughed and half cried.
“A thunderstorm. I was scared of a thunderstorm.” As pain began to sear through her legs, she only grit her teeth in a crazed grimace. At the very least, it meant that feeling had begun to come back to her limbs. She wiggled her toes to test the theory, and although the blackness barred her from seeing them move, the jolting pains announced to her that her body was ready to go. Maerwynn began to crawl forwards, occasionally feeling with her hands the remains of her traveling companions.
Another flash of light briefly illuminated the background and in front of her, she saw the strange hooded man from earlier fighting with the horsemen. Though the image had lasted for a second, it was burned into her eyes. He had skin like the snow, and he seemed even taller than before. With every lightning bolt that shot through the skies, Maerwynn could see snapshots of their battle. From her prostate form on the ground, the men seemed like giants fighting in the mountains.
What had seemed like spears to her earlier were, on second impression, just swords. Huge bladed swords that seemed too heavy to lift, let alone swing around like they were doing. Sparks flew off their metal weapons as they ground against each other, the light of the metal shards giving more precious details to Maerwynn. With a final peal of thunder, the clouds dissipated to reveal a bloodstained canvas – the stranger remained standing tall and the nine horsemen lay dead, their blood darkening the white snow.
Just like that, silence and serenity returned to the battleground. The moon shone brightly once more, although it had set down lower in the sky. Maerwynn heaved for breath before leaning back against a broken wheel. The horses were long gone. The merchants lay dead or unconscious – she didn’t care which at the moment. And the storm… she had never seen anything like it. Even the mightiest blizzards gave some sort of warning before they struck – if you knew how to look for it. They followed a pattern.
But this thunderstorm? The darkness that had just swallowed them whole? Maerwynn had never seen anything like it. Perhaps she had had her eyes closed the entire time after all. Besides, the important thing was that she was alive. That meant hope for her quest still lingered.
“We lived.” She spoke to the air. “We lived.”
She took the moment to rest up and to fully appreciate the carnage. Besides the horsemen who lay dead, the caravan had been utterly smashed to pieces. The torn up body of the skinny merchant lay nearby. That could have been me.
She crawled through the wreckage, aiming to find her crossbow and perhaps pick up any useful items. Medicine was a wishful thought but perhaps not an impossible one. By the end of her crawl, Maerwynn had gathered up her crossbow (though it had a snapped string), a blowing horn, and three of her crossbow bolts. She strapped them around her shoulders with some string before a sudden cough alerted her to the prostate man a few feet away from her.
Pyper, it seemed, had not fared for the better in the caravan crash. A long splinter of wood penetrated from his belly and yellow bubbles of fat and gore trickled slowly out his wound. Maerwynn sat still and stared at him with a tight mouth. It seemed only right to let the dying man speak out first. Unfortunately, it seemed as if that was not going to happen. The fat merchant gasped for breath, his previous witticisms reduced to a gurgling wheeze. Maerwynn sighed before starting her arduous crawl over to him, taking only a moment to stop for breath. Her ribs still hurt. “I feel like you can’t make it.”
She rested a hand on the wooden spike, but even that small movement caused him to tremble furiously.
“No. You can’t make it. Not like this.” Maerwynn sniffed before reaching in her coat to grasp the familiar bone handle of her knife. She was glad to see it had not been lost or broken in the craziness that had occurred. Upon the sight of her knife however, Pyper’s eyes began to roll in their sockets. They whizzed from side to side, as if he were shaking his head, “no, no”. He began to froth at the mouth and blood spluttered from his throat. It was a disconcerting sight – one which felt strangely familiar to Maerwynn – and she ended by plunging the knife into his chest.
Maerwynn was certain that she had hit his heart, though it had been a bit more difficult due to his bulk and clothes. His body jerked and relieved itself and the blood from her knife wound matted his fur cloak. Pyper let out one last gasp before the light in his eyes dimmed and faded. Killing was a grisly business.
“Goodbye, Pyper.” She wiped off the blade on his clothes before sheathing it and stashing it in her coat again.
Just then, she heard the tinny sound of a trumpet calling. Obviously, reinforcements had arrived. Or something along those lines – they (or rather, the stranger) had just killed the men following them, after all. The grating noise of the portcullis caught her attention and she snapped her head back to look at the mountain gate to see it closing. The creaking and clinking of metal on stone sounded like her own despair.
“No, no. No.” She murmured before struggling to her feet.
Although the gate was only a few dozen feet away, with her shaky legs it felt like a million. She limped-hopped towards the gates only to have a sense of doom reach over her. There was simply no way to reach it in time. And as Maerwynn was only so certain of, once she gave up hope inside, there really was no way to succeeding. It was then she remembered the pale faced stranger and his skillful display. Surely a warrior like that would have no trouble dashing through the gate… perhaps with a certain gammy legged woman.
“Please,” she croaked out, “help me. Don't leave me! Help me!”
