Her darkness.
Somehow, she'd picked that one up from him. It was apt, but uncomfortable in his meaning of it. She would have to be on guard against picking up anything else up from him, or else there really would be darkness there.
She sat a while in the wagon with the two young halflings, watching them sleep with a peaceful smile on her face. It was for them that she built her resolve. She would not let Ru's madness hurt or corrupt her. Not only would she not let him drag her down, but she would find a way to cast aside what wrongness was already in her heart, placed there by her former masters.
Eventually, Signateria came for her so they could get moving along with the caravan. By then, she felt much better.
***
Ru stayed pointedly out of the way during the entire ride. He rode Gaddigan up and down the lines like a guard, but kept well clear of Taylin's wagon whenever he passed.
The caravan arrived at the gates of Daire City well after sunset, and set up along the road in a loose arc of wagons. Fires were lit, and the Clan of the Winter Willow ate a heavy meal from their stores in a mildly festive atmosphere. In the morning, the city gates would open and they would do trade.
For the nir-lumos, trade didn't just mean coin. It meant fresh fruit and vegetables, unsalted meat, and new, clean clothes. A new city also meant fresh news, and for those so inclined, new entertainment in the form of books, street performers and even live theater.
Taylin and Kaiel, as per usual aside from that first night, ate with Rai and the children. Bromun, Rolfas, and Minarene were missing that night. The tradition of the hunters was to meet the local garrison on the night they arrived at the new city and buy them unhealthy amounts of alcohol in the name of camaraderie and a bit of understanding for any crimes a clan member might commit.
Ru didn't materialize again until Taylin was returning to her wagon, when a gray tomcat streaked past her and made itself at home once more in a nest of red silk on the windowsill. He uttered not a word before dropping off almost instantly to sleep.
She spent a few minutes frowning at the ball of scarred fuzz before removing her armor. It was still early, so she lit a candle and took up a book she had borrowed from Kaiel.
The chronicler never asked where a former slave learned to read, which was good because she didn't know either. It came from somewhere before the ships, or the mines. She remembered that for a while, she had slightly better treatment in the mines as the administrator found it useful to have someone to take dictation and who wouldn't be missed if she needed to make them disappear should her skimming be discovered.
In return, Taylin never asked Kaiel where he was actually storing the dozens of books she'd seen him with over the last month. Neither the chest in his wagon, nor his saddle bags accounted for the many sizable volumes in his possession. She had a feeling that in an era with such sophisticated technology and foreign magics, hers would be a foolish question in any event.
Moving Forward From a Dark Age was the title scribed on the book's worn leather spine in metallic blue letters. It was a fictional account of a wandering knight following the collapse of the kingdom he served near the end of the Age of Tragedies. Though it was fiction, Kaiel had recommended it to her as a primer on what had come to pass during her sleep. He laughed that the many anachronisms would allow her to also glean something of current social attitudes and trends.
She read with great interest through a section where the protagonist attempted to woo a noblewoman, unaware that she was, in fact, the rival for a mercenary job whom he had spent the previous fifty pages cursing at. The noblewoman was Taylin's current favorite character. She succeeded more on using information to powerful effect and exploiting people's character flaws than direct confrontation. The whole idea of fighting with her mind instead of a blade appealed to her.
Though she was very, very good with the blade.
Clever Girl.
She fell asleep still holding the book, wondering if it was possible to blend the two approaches.
***
The iron capped butt of the staff smashed into her center and Taylin stumbled back. Not to open space; that would have been the thing to do in a fight, but this wasn't a fight; it was a beating. She needed to get away, but on the next step, the ground wasn't there to catch her.
The world pitched and she had no idea what was happening until her shoulder and hip struck the stairs below. The force rattled her teeth, but it wasn't enough to stop her. Twice more, she bounced on hard stone, striking the weather worn edges with her ribs and then her shoulder again before landing on flat ground and rolling once until she was laid out flat on her belly.
Her eyes flicked fearfully upward and found the two guards coming down the steps after her. Their weighted staves were ready to finish the job they had hoped the stairs would. No use in looking at them; she looked down at her hands, desperately trying to remember how she made it happen before.
She needed it. It was the only thing that might save her. Why wouldn't it come back? Did it only appear to seal her doom and then abandon her? Light, a spark—Anything, please!
Taylin's mind was running in parallel. Both seeing and feeling the events, but also not. In the safety of her second mind, she was wondering what 'it' was that she was trying to summon, where this temple was with the high stone stairs, why the guards had incandescent orange eyes, and how it was that her hair had become so black, stringy and matted with dirt.
“Disgusting creature!” The lead guard bellowed. His words were in a language she didn’t know, but she understood it perfectly. “How dare you bring your blasphemous filth into the House of Vitalius! I will dash your head in for this trespass. In His name!”
There was no dodging. She hurt too much and even if she didn't, she was so hungry that her body wouldn't move in time. Up went the head off the staff.
And then it leapt away from the shaft, tumbling away and almost hitting its wielder as it fell.
She had no idea how he got there (though on another level, she knew it had to be the same kind of teleportation Ru was fond of), but there was now a third man on the street between her and her attackers. Gray robes billowed beneath a vibrant red mantle with white piping. The head of an impossibly sharp scythe gleamed as the last splinters of wood along its edge came free.
“I just saved you from becoming a murderer.” The new man said in an even tone that dared them to dispute his words.
The second guard didn't get the message. “Lord Vitalius decrees that all who display Power outside of His name must be put to death.”
“'Lord' Vitalius's house ends at that step.” replied the newcomer. “By the corrupt and baneful law of this city, you are within your right to commit your god's murder upon those steps, but by blaze and weirding, you do not own the street yet.”
“In His name, that boy has committed blasphemy in His house and he will die.” The first guard regained his composure and nerve.
Boy? Taylin wondered. Who were they talking about? She thought they were after her.
Her defender shook his head. She couldn't see anything of him except that his hair was steely gray, short and neatly combed. “Are you so afraid of one young sparker that you would stoop to killing children?” She could hear a sneer enter his voice. “Or is it your god who is afraid?”
Outrage distorted the features of both men, but before they could react, the head of the scythe was suddenly awash with arcs of violet electricity.
Taylin started and scrambled backward, only for her back to run into something almost immediately. She looked up to see a boy and girl standing there.
The boy was of an age with her, even though she knew that wasn't correct. She was on the cusp of fifty and even counting in terms of human development, she was in her late teens or early twenties while this child was no more than ten or eleven. And yet, the strange, parallel line of thought in her head identified him as near her own age. He was dressed in a white cloak with brass closures that swallowed his body whole. His whi
te-blond hair was in the same short, combed-forward style as the man with the scythe and he looked nervous out of his mind.
The girl was slightly older with light brown hair that fell in princess curls around her head that she seemed uncomfortable with. She wore a dull, brown cloak open over a beige tunic and stiff, cotton pants. The confrontation in front of her seemed to hold no interest to her and she opted instead to look down at Taylin with mild curiosity.
Awe filled Taylin and she didn't know where it was coming from. Part of her split mind was floored by how beautiful the girl was and part didn't see why she would find a young girl beautiful in that way at all. The man with the now electrically blazing scythe got her attention again, though the other part of her mind never lost focus on the girl.
“Before you say another word, bear in mind that you speak to a mage of talent and his disciples now. If you attempt to do us harm, we are more than capable of fighting back.” The temple guard stammered and he spoke over them. “This blade of mine is named Equity. Her name is my dream: that one day the venom and hatred you and your god spew like smoke into the air no longer poisons the heart of this city or this nation. That these children will live in a world where they are loved as all children should be, regardless of the gifts imbued in them at birth by the gods.”
He took a step that put him less than an inch from the bottom stair. “Do either of you want to philosophize with me to the contrary?” It was clear that 'philosophizing' would involve two beheadings.
The air was thick with threat for a long moment. Then the temple guards backed down and retreated up the stairs. “Lord Vitalius will work his will on you in another way.” One of them spat over his shoulder.
“Somehow, I am not afraid.” The newcomer said. As he turned to face Taylin, he swung his scythe up to rest on his shoulders and the lightning storm in miniature on its edge ceased. For the first time, Taylin could see his eyes; violet like the electricity he conjured. “So. Young man. How long have you been sparking?”
Both of Taylin's trains of thought had no idea what that meant. The man seemed to understand. “Sparking is what happens with people like us; who have a power born inside them; go untrained and don't know how to channel it. You spark: that flare of light that came from your hand just now and alerted the temple to what you are.”
She shied back, which incidentally kept her close to the girl.
Again, the strange man seemed to understand. “I will have to explain it better later. What is your name, boy?”
“No name. Not a real one.” A thin, fearful and surprisingly boyish voice came from Taylin and in that moment, she finally understood: the other thoughts weren't her own. “Used to be part of the thieving crew in the Brakar, 'til iron bellies pinched them.” As clearly as she knew what the Winter Willow was, she knew now that the Brakar was a section of the city, a dangerous one.
“What did the crew call you then?”
“Tenth new one to join. So they called me Tenth.” 'Tenth' was what it meant, but she recognized the word actually being used: 'Ru'.
“If you were an aristocrat, that would make you Brakar nul te Ru.” The man mused. “But we can't afford to be that ostentatious. My name is Gand of the Sidhe Road; I've no real second name either. And these are my disciples, Pernethes Seth and Adresine of Glory Falls.”
“Gloryfall.” The girl corrected, slightly annoyed.
Gand smirked. “The only one of us with the blood to back up ostentation and she rejects it. Forgive her, Ru; she becomes a bit morbid when dragged away from her spellwork.”
Taylin, or rather, Ru peeled his eyes away from Gloryfall long enough to at least nod to Pernethes. He/she/they noticed that his eyes were blue and felt it odd. Everyone had eyes of orange, violet, red, yellow or brown, didn't they?
Before Taylin could ponder why blue eyes were now out of the norm, Gand gripped Ru's arm and helped him up. “Come with us and have a meal without weevils in it at least. Then perhaps, we can discuss your future.”
Things began to break down from there and Taylin only caught sights and emotions. Learning to fly, learning to change form. The first night sleeping warm on a soft bed. The aches of overdrawing from her (no, his.) personal stores of energy. Gloryfall and how years later, only she (he) was allowed to call her that. The touch of her hand. The taste of her kiss.
A room practically painted with blood. Loss. Rage that seemed never to end followed by a city in flames.
Hot blades that traced lines in flesh and delicate fingers packing the wound with sour smelling paste. Ink covered needles drawing circles. A burning draught that filled her belly with more than just warmth. The freezing touch of otherness as a contract was forged.
Vengeance. Love. Violence. Camaraderie.
The true face of Ru Brakar in a mirror.
Everything became a haze. The images and thoughts no longer came in order or made sense. She was drifting away from something she shouldn't have been inside of and now whatever defenses had failed were being rebuilt and hedging her out.
They did it strongly enough to knock her into wakefulness from a dead sleep.
She didn't wake with a start or a gasp. All she did was open her eyes and take stock. She was on her bed in the wagon, curled up on her side with her wings sprawled out from under the covers to almost brush the opposite wall. The candle was still burning, though it was near to going out, and the book was open and propped against the wall where she'd left it.
Without really thinking about it, she reached up and pulled down a lock of her hair. Still red. Of course it was, that had been a dream—and not her own.
After a few more minutes, she sat up. Pale morning light was coming through the window, enough to make the candle redundant, so she blew it out and put it on the table next to her bed. Also on that table was a pitcher like the ones Kaiel and Grandmother had. Once she learned that it could be set to heat water as well as cool it by running her finger in one direction or another around the rim, she traded the coin equivalent of two horses with Minarene for hers.
Kaiel warned her that she was overpaying and that she could get one of her own in Daire City, but the promise of immediate hot water won out over economics. She ran her finger around the rim now and waited a few minutes before drinking a long pull of the near-boiling liquid. The others sipped at coffee or tea, but she found hot water just as refreshing and didn't suffer the burns of drinking it quickly besides.
But in the end it was all distraction; things to do to keep her eyes from traveling up to the windowsill. To help her ignore the knot of stress in the back of her mind, she reminded herself that a bad history didn't forcibly transform a person into a monster. If it did, she would be one was well. There was a choice and Ru had made his; reveled in it.
Eventually, she did look up and saw the cat sprawled on his side, his face burrowed into the nest of slick fabric, his belly rising and falling rapidly. Taylin had been cast out of it, but the nightmare continued.
Upon seeing that, she reminded herself that this was the difference between them: when she was in pain, he had helped, but only to advance his agenda of persuading her that he was some sort of tool to be used. She could help too, but for no ulterior motives.
Thus assured, she stood and stole over to the window.
She tried the link first; calling his name through it, then trying to focus positive feeling through it to counter the negative. None of that worked, so she reached out and gently shook him awake.
Wild tension from the dream mixed with the cat-brain reflexes into a singular, frenzied strike at the thing that was clearly attacking him as he slept. Four sharp claws raked across the back of Taylin's wrist even as his faculties returned to him. He had just enough time to register that something very bad was going to come of that.
As the first searing pains hit his nerves, he twisted away from Taylin and darted away, or as far away as he could get in the small wagon. Attacking his nerves might have been enough for upsetting her, but the link would not be so
kind for actually harming his master. It didn't care that it was an accident.
Taylin felt it happen. The cold, hard point that was the link suddenly animated in her mind and she got the sense of a gargantuan vine wrapping the cat, sending thorns like foot-long needles into his body. Pain translated to her as unattached status reports; she was aware that he was feeling pain in his spine, his lungs, and temples, but was by no means sharing it. It wouldn't do for the master to feel the weapon's pain.
Ru snarled as the stabbing agony forced him out of cat form, the link constricting worse and sending metaphorical thorns into more places. He refused to cry out, even as his body struggled to draw breath to do just that. It was the only resistance he could manage, however, as his legs gave out, sending him toppling to the floor. In a last act of defiance, he forced himself up onto his elbows, a long, low growl coming from him.
From across the wagon, Taylin witnessed it all. The link seemed to ring in the back of her head. If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was taking pleasure in tormenting the mage. There had been many taskmasters like that, both on the ships and in the mines. She knew them well, the ones that not only thought of ang'hailene as not people, but resented having to interact with them at all. They took great pains in hurting them, secure in the knowledge that no one would stop it. After all, they weren't people, so it was perfectly acceptable.
Much like Ru insisted that he wasn't a person, now that she thought of it. So many just accepted it as a given, as he did. It didn't even invoke any bitterness or unhappiness. It was just a fact. In Ru's case, he might even be right; she had no idea what he was. But he did have his own thoughts, his own emotions...his own pain. And no matter what he was and how he acted, no one deserved what she knew he was going through.
And someone was there to stop it. For as little as she tried to think about it, she was the master of the link. And for once, she needed to act like it.
As she did before, she imagined reaching out to it, touching it. This time, she didn't fumble. Contact was immediate and solid, but the link resisted as she tried to manipulate it. Not resisted in the sense that it was more difficult to move, but in the sense that it moved as it to escape her mental grasp, almost as if it didn't want to relinquish its torment of Ru.
Lighter Days, Darker Nights (Rune Breaker) Page 4
