Lavarrus watched Geraint armour up and ride away. Good. Yet another knight less to deal with.
While the newcomer was off avenging Guinevere and her ladies, the real menace to Britain's royalty could continue unabated.
Two more knights! he was elated. Reep and James were now departing together, with enough gear for several days out.
Lavarrus counted: Rokk, Gawaine, Geraint, Reep, James, Garth and Ayla were all out of the picture, one way or another. With little additional effort, Camelot would die stillborn...
Eva came to him. "The king is wounded. They're in a panic," he told her.
"No, they're not. Not yet," she grinned. "Not even close."
Mekt, too, smiled. He was unable to assist his friends' last venture, but this... this was perfect, and nothing could go wrong.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:50 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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posted
notes 160-169: 160/161/164: I wasn't going to do any White Triangle stuff, but then a neat idea developed. 161/163: Geraint's been mentioned before, but I couldn't figure out where to inset him til now. He's both historical and Arthurian (where h overlaps with Sir Erec)... and of course I've added a LSH angle. 162: One of my delays in mentally plotting all this was resolving all the little things that I needed to get out of the way to get to the Midsummer story thread. Brin gets bumped off-camera as a result, alas... there were just too many loose threads not coming together... and jettisoning a few mental roadblocks has helped jump-start me again. 165: While I originally had Lar a bit smitten with Tinya, as time went on, this no longer worked for me. so I'm evolving 'them' to fit Lar's age/wisdom... more of a big bro figure. 166: Balin's tale is taking the long way 'round the barn, and Sir D (don't call him Gar Logan) died a bit earlier than I planned (in his first semi-substantial post-cameo intro, no less!). Chalk it up to the loose threads I needed to put aside. 167: This one actually wrote itself. I started out with a vague idea about Azura meeting Morgause at the fair. 168: I'm surprised the Green Knight saga has taken this long to get to this point, actually. It may even be starting to make a little sense by now - or at least to a point where an educated guess is possible. 169: Medrod is probably the closest "authentic" variation on the name of you-know-who. Sir Lucan, right out of Arthurian lore, is there to take household oversight duties away from Reep. Poor overworked guy!
[ December 26, 2005, 07:52 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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He tried, but he couldn't muster the strength. Not without bleeding again. But as it turned out, he didn't have to.
"Kneel, Brunor of Elmet."
The lad complied with the queen's order.
Imra lifted Excalibur, and pointed it at him.
"For service to your king and country," she touched the sword to each of his shoulders and his head," I dub thee Sir Brunor, knight of the round table, member of King Rokk's legion."
Rokk, from the vantage of the makeshift divan, began applauding, until the pain made him stop.
The hall erupted in cheers and applause. Various dignitaries, lords and knights all gathered to greet and commend the youth, but Imra made a point to thank Camulodunum's prefect for the use of his hall and castle. Camelot's sole hall thus far was too entwined in midsummer preparations, and Rokk wanted a proper facility to commend his newest knight.
In fact, as Camelot proper was getting overwhelmed as a site, Reep was transferring more and more operations to the modest existing civic fortress, which in future years would serve as a garrison to support Camelot.
Brunor had been nervous about appearing before Queen Guinevere. He'd heard she could read minds - tales either overblown or fanciful, it seems - or she hasn't bothered to.
All the better.
The lines dwindled down and the feast began. One good meal, and then he would take part in a new custom Rokk devised for his new fort - new knights will stand vigil at the fortress chapel all night and all day, and break fast solely with the king at sundown.
At the tables, everyone gushed and praised how he stepped in and saved the king.
But in truth, he was a bit embarrassed at his deed - intending a running start at the nearby Sir Garth, but instead hitting -
Where was Sir Garth, anyway? Brunor wouldn't slay his quarry here, but still... Where is he?
"Is there any word about...?" asked one of the court ladies.
"Still delusional. His mother hasn't left his side, I hear," answered another.
Brunor felt a pang of self-consciousness, and turned away. He'd no love for the knight he'd struck, but neither did he want to be known as the man who slew the hero of the north.
Still, the gossip was hard to evade.
"No one's even seen his so-called fiancé. Some say she and Mac-"
"-Shhh. You shouldn't talk so-"
"-Well, I heard-"
"-not the first time he turned on his kin-"
Brunor could stand no more. He left his plate half-touched, and made his way with a series of polite excuses to the street. The sticky warmth of June, eased by ocean air, let him breathe.
Patience, Sir Brunor. You're almost there, Eva told him.
"Yes. I get Garth, and you get Britain."
[ December 26, 2005, 07:53 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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posted
sorry.. and thanks for missing LoC! I've been running ragged with work and other things lately; it's been difficult to concentrate. I should be back before mid-June ready to rumble again!
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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“Do we truly do the right thing?” James asked, very hesitantly.
“I know it seems… harsh. Cruel, even, but it must be done,” Reep replied. “And it must remain our secret, else King Rokk’s good name be smeared.”
James swallowed his distaste for their mission. He knew and trusted Reep with his life, and if something so preyed upon the Seneschal’s heart, it must be true.
They arrived at a little hut, where Reep had fresh horses and equipment ready and waiting.
Donning armours and tunics a far cry from their regular appearance, they now looked like a cross between Tarik’s Elmetian deserters and Angle brigands – too vague to be singled out for retribution. Their horses, too, were of plain Gallic stock, not the proud Iberian steed that mark Rokk’s legion.
And so they doubled back, practicing rough, barbaric grunts, before making camp near the river. Reep had already chosen a spot where the nurse would come – a spot from which he’d already spied her routines.
“She usually comes in the morning, but sometimes in late afternoon instead,” Reep explained.
James, trying to occupy himself while waiting, first tried to pretend he couldn’t hear the background roars echoing from Camelot. Failing that, he tried to pretend he was watching the day’s jousts, if not participating. It wasn’t working. He was bored with waiting.
Hours? later, Reep grabbed his arm, and he silently resumed vigil. A young woman – no a young couple, had come to the glade, seeking privacy, no doubt.
Would they ruin or scheme? Reep fretted. But their quarry turned up not.
The night was not a restful one, as James’ doubts crept back in. Could he do what needed to be done? He wasn’t so sure.
With morning’s first light, Reep awoke, and saw instantly that his friend hadn’t slept at all.
I chose poorly in my choice of accomplices. Tenzil, perhaps. Not James. Reep considered calling the mission off, but regardless of who replaced James, James would now suspect. Better his hand be accomplice, that he may keep his silence, Reep thought, hating himself for it.
While mulling it over, destiny took a hand – it was James’ turn to grab Reep’s arm.
And sure enough, the young maid carried the morning’s laundries to the riverside, along with her charge. Verily, only her mistress would deem Camulodunum’s wells not to her liking, Reep thought.
Hearing the sound of their quarry, the duo sauntered back to their mounts, before racing down the ravine to intercept the woman before she could flee.
She warily observed the approaching riders, not quite believing brigands would venture so close to the city – yet she was no trusting fool, either. She glanced backward, wondering if city guards would hear her scream.
“Scream and you’ll live not,” barked Reep, in a mock ruffian’s voice. “You are not our quarry.”
He pointed his sword straight at her, while James dismounted to pick up the babe. His heart sank. How can I see harm to one so young and innocent?
With James again in saddle and crossing the river, Reep stood guard letting him gain a distance. James rode westward, and would double north to return to the hut. Reep would ride northeast along the shore road before heading inland. With luck, the maid would recall Reep’s path, not James.
With James having a good head start, it was Reep’s turn to flee. And as he expected, the maid screamed her head off, running back for the city.
He laid a rough path for pursuers to follow – in and out of the river, zig-zagging up along crossing streams, and eventually sending the horse on alone while he followed a tributary north, the stream hiding his footprints.
When he’d reached the hut, he found James with the baby.
“Well?” Reep said, exasperated.
“I… couldn’t,” James pleaded with him. “He’s but a babe.”
Reep drew a dagger, and placed it to the child’s face. The sharp metal drew a thin line of blood. But Reep could do no more.
“Damn us!” he exploded.
“Must he truly die?”
“Aye. A child born of the blackest magicks, who is already being used as a tool to undermine King Rokk. Queen Nura of Cornwall, she who sees the future, said that the child will prove the undoing of Britain itself, should it live!”
Reep looked again at the baby. He tried to tell him he was strong enough to do what needed to be done. But he couldn’t make himself believe that untruth.
“Well,” he said at last, “We cannot remain here and be found. Let me change, and we shall ride… north, to Branodunum.”
As he and James were supposedly pursuing the fiendish Yder, to aide Geraint, and could be spared for a few days…
Near Branodunum, they would put the baby to sea, where it would meet its fate without either of them soiling their hands. Yes, that would work…
[ December 26, 2005, 07:55 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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“He improves,” Morgause replied. “I believe he shall live.”
Dyrk nodded. “T’is well indeed! But why would he so attack King Rokk?”
“Mayhap he was bespelled.”
“Aye. But between various ruses and… other incidents, some question his standing,” it hurt the Roman to put this into words.
“Do you question his loyalties – or say his mind is addled?” the northern queen snapped.
“I question neither,” Dyrk said as warmly as he could. “He is my friend, and I wish to see him cured, of whatever ails him. Where… Where is Tinya?”
“She has not been seen since the morning before… this happened. I truly thought better of her.” She sighed. And Brunor? He who so eagerly defended his king by wounding my son?”
“He… has become quite a quandary. Yesterday, King Zendak offered him a gold armband in reward for his heroism – and he rejected it! Now he seems to labour to have rival knights expelled on various grounds ranging from ineptitude to treason. Rokk has refused to hear his allegations until after tomorrow’s ceremonies, yet still…”
“King Rokk should be more wary of the vipers he allows into his home. I know many of you would include me amongst that breed,” Morgause sounded almost repentant, “but I truly believe King Mekt’s allies are up to ill.”
“Once you would have cheered them on,” Dyrk said, trying not to sound scornful.
“Aye. Once.”
With an uneasy pause in the conversation, Dyrk paced to the window.
He was about to speak one more when to door burst open. “My lady!” One of Morgause’s guardsmen blurted, “The baby Medrod has been seized by brigands!”
[ December 26, 2005, 07:57 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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After days of tracking, Geraint heard from a farmer that Yder, believing himself un-pursued into Angle territory, had intended to take part in the midsummer Sparrowhawk Tournament at Castor. He resolved to humiliate the rogue knight at the tourney, and deliver him and his vile dwarf to Queen Guinevere for her judgment thereafter.
Nearing Castor’s marketplace, he spied a beautiful maiden, who carried herself with the airs of nobility, although she was dressed as a peasant.
“Who is yon maiden?” Geraint asked a merchant. Never in all his travels, from Italia to Iberia to Britain, had he been so enchanted with a maiden. “She is clearly a lady of title, yet dresses not so.”
“She is my daughter, Enide,” the merchant replied. “We were the ancestral Celtic rulers of this land, and even as the Angles came, we held on. But no more – our holdings have been carved up by Angle lords seeking to make up for their losses against King Rokk last year, we to the streets we were forced,” he pointed to the castle no longer his.
“Good sir, I am by title and right the heir to Cornwall, and I should like your daughter for my bride. Sir Geraint am I, late of Rokk’s court.”
“I have heard of you, the step-son of Marcus?” Geraint winced at being mistaken for his famous kinsman Thom, but did not want to ruin the deal. “If you prove your worth at the Sparrowhawk Tournament, her hand is yours,” said the merchant.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:58 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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“I think he’s a villain,” Genni said plainly. “I think he schemed his way into Rokk’s trust, and will destroy this kingdom if left to his own.”
“What do we really know of him?” Iasmin asked, trying to sort out fact from rumour.
“He’s from Elmet,” Lu answered. “I’d not heard of him, though, from my time there.”
“”If from Elmet, he may be Tarik’s man,” Saihlough ventured, flying circle-eights around the ladies. “Or Winifred’s. Blagh!”
“Well. We need more information if we’re to act,” Iasmin concluded. “The festivities are a big distraction, as we do not know if all our peers are at any moment. We haven’t seen Garth or Ayla in days… but maybe the same confusion can hide our inquiries.
“Genni… I want you to go to Lindum. Find out from Sir Derek what you can of Brunor… if need be, go to Elmet yourself,” she said.
Genni agreed, and was out on the road within minutes.
“Saihlough. I want you to keep an eye on Brunor. Follow him closely. Watch who he talks to. And hide yourself well.”
“Of course,” the faerie giggled, and flew away.
“Lu, I need you to find Garth and Ayla. I’d start with Mekt’s tents. But watch yourself. He was an ally against Zaryan, but now… who knows? And mind his lady-friend Eva. Her gifts may rival the queen’s.”
Lu nodded, and set out on her assignment.
Iasmin didn’t like circumventing Rokk, but if Eva’s Sight was as strong as she believed, Rokk and Guinevere were no doubt under constant observation. Good. That shall distract them from our roles.
[ December 26, 2005, 08:00 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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“My family adopted these medallions as our own. I had no idea from whence they came,” said Laoraighll. “Many of my extended family – cousins and kinsmen – all wear them, that any of the Gandr clan may recognize each other.”
“Yet one was found in Angtough, and another in Roxxius’ lair,” L’ile added.
“Querl has theorized that Angtough was raided by Roxxius, yes?”
“It was around the same time, yes. But still, we’re not certain,” Querl said. “Any more than we’re certain of anything, Laoraighll,” he said softly. “No one’ accusing you of anything.”
“No, but my family-“
“-May not be involved. Medallions get sold, traded-“
“NO!”
All eyes turned upon her.
“The medallions… are special. They are a promise… that Eiru shan’t be touched by the ancient evils that drove the Tuatha de Danaan to Eiru.”
An ancient evil… L’ile thought. just as the Hunter said.
“If the Tuatha were gods,” Querl posited, “How did… anyone drive them to Eiru?”
“More powerful rival gods,” L’ile answered flippantly, yet not entirely in jest. “I wonder if MacKell has seen the like in his years of seeing the world.”
[ December 26, 2005, 08:02 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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“A wild goose-chase,” he told himself. Mekt had relayed word that Garth and Ayla needed their immediate assistance, repelling a Khund landing party on the Kentish coasts near Canterbury.
Mekt insisted on accompanying him, but MacKell assured him he’d be faster on his own, letting the king catch up at his own pace.
But up and down the shores, all was quiet.
Moreover, Kiritan’s men had seen no trace of Mekt’s siblings. Jonah’s young brother Gareth, being fostered by Kiritan, had plenty of questions, but MacKell had no time for them. Or so it had seemed.
“Mekt, you have succeeded in distracting me away from Camelot. But to what end?”
He remounted his steed, and began the return trip north.
[ December 26, 2005, 08:03 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Yes, the festivities proceeded despite his injury, but Brunor, his newest knight, was acting rather immodestly, bad-mouthing many of his trusted knights – especially the absent Sir Garth. And now the youth was openly making accusations, that Reep and James had masterminded Medrod’s abduction!
His longtime peers were spread few and far between. A third of them seemed to be scheming, another third demoralized, and the rest- missing.
He sighed cautiously, so as not to let the wound Jonah gave him add more pain. A deep breath could yet be painful.
This morning was quiet. Oddly quiet. And his nurse had not brought him his porridge.
“My liege? Do you have a moment?”
It was Brunor.
“Come in, lad. You’ll forgive me for not rising to greet you.”
“Aye. I’d like you to meet some friends of mine,” the youngster said.
Mekt, Rokk knew. And he could guess who the Italian and Germanic woman who followed were. “King Lavarrus and Queen Eva, I presume?”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Lavarrus smiled. “I’m surprised the young friar Jan hasn’t healed your wounds, if you’ll forgive my speculations.”
“Jan’s gift is not a cure-all, I fear, He seems to sense… things lacking in one’s health, and adds them, in all due subtlety,“ Rokk replied.
“Ah. That explains why he’s retching along with everyone else,” Mekt sneered.
Seeing Rokk’s quizzical look, Eva continued. “My husband is just as skilled in… manipulating substance. Following your man Tenzil’s testing of last night’s suppers, some additional ingredients have left your court – and all your guards – in a state indeed!
“But we are prepared to offer our services to this kingdom, of course, pending a few… negotiations.”
[ December 26, 2005, 08:05 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Imra tossed and turned, struggling to maintain control over her bowels – and her body. Each convulsion grew worse and worse.
She could hear from the courtyard podium that Brunor had proclaimed himself king, and was challenging the “cowardly Sir Garth” to a duel of honour for the death of his elder brother.
“Do lie still, my dear. Accept that your reign is over,” Eva gloated.
NEVER!
The strain nearly made Imra pass out in pain.
“You really should exert yourself so, my young dear.” Eva stroked her hair, mockingly.
How did Aven say? Separate yourself from your physical body? Imra strained to recall her lessons. Easier said than done…
Tuning out Eva’s gloating and patronizing, tuning out the warm summer breeze, tuning out her quaking stomach and shivering innards… she found it. A place of quiet. Calm. Serenity…
It would be easy to stay here. But no.
Lu, being tortured by Mekt, knew where Garth and Ayla were. The secret was passed…
She drifted back out into the real world. Tenzil, unaffected by the poisons, was hiding, waiting for direction. She gave him an assignment…
Saihlough was spying on Brunor, who in turn was getting ready for his “duel.” The pixie had infuriated the villain by turning his prized sword invisible. Listen, little Saihlough, to what must be done…
Genni was running, on her way back from Lindum, armed with knowledge. Knowledge that would be key to turning the tide…
Tricked, MacKell was riding at full speed, returning to Camelot, but only now just outside of Londinium. He’s too far out, unless we can delay…
Garth, drugged and poisoned, was no match for swordplay, yet Lavarrus prodded and poked him, torment under the premise of “getting him ready.” Hold on, Garth! Hold on…
There is one last ally to contact, before my battle truly begins, Imra thought, feeling a degree of exhaustion already. On Avalon, she was taught how to replenish her energies, but that took a physical connection she dared not touch.
Oh, really, my dear? Why thinks thou that I shall afford you the opportunity? Eva’s interruption came as an icy wave or reality.
Weary but unwilling to give, Imra responded in kind, a silent psionic battle that caused everyone within a large radius a massive headache…
[ December 26, 2005, 08:12 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Only days ago, Camelot seemed the epitome of civilization. Look at it now!
Tenzil despaired at the sudden influx of mercenaries and deserters who had taken up Brunor’s call to arms. With these rogues he plans to hold all of Britain as a kingdom?!
The beefeater strolled through the crowds, sizing up Brunor’s grip on the people. Those who had come to celebrate with the king now seemed like a bloodthirsty mob – and they cared not who let blood, as long as someone did.
Their attention was now focused, of course, on the arena hastily set up, where the usurper would battle Sir Garth. He had to be ready…
“… Mother, what’s happening?” Now awake, the delirious Jonah demanded answers. His ailing mother, now collapsed in her chair, had none to give.
Did he have the strength to lift himself from the bed? No, he did not…
…Fending off his own illness, Loomius had waited for his moment. Mekt had gone on to the castle with his captive siblings, leaving the carpenter only one prisoner to free. While his accomplice distracted the guards, he cut a hole in the side of the pavilion, and as he expected, Lu was bound and gagged inside.
If they’ve fed her not as part of her torture, then mayhap she can fight our way back out again…
…Ayla looked over at her brother. Even worse than sharing the same stomach ailment, in addition to being tormented in body and spirit, it appeared that their captors had Garth drugged as well.
The carriage bumped and twisted en route to their destination, wherever that would be. She’d heard something of a duel, but how would that be possible? Garth couldn’t even hold a sword in his current state…
…Berach steadied himself, posing with sword, trying to look formidable and able. Errol’s elixirs made him feel better, almost well enough to fight. But would it come to that? Brunor was still a fellow knight, wasn’t he?
He, Dag and Franz were in the best shape. They’d set out and stop this nonsense…
“…The hour is neigh! Sir Garth, are you brave enough to face me?” Brunor taunted, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. “Even the weak King Rokk has recognized my rightful rule!”
An equal number of cheers and boos resounded. He motioned for their silence.
“King Rokk would be here to tell you himself, but I hear he’s sick.” He mocked. “Yes, I hear there’s a stomach pox about. Isn’t there always when young boys don’t want to tend to chores?” he sneered.
Berach and Dag made their way through the crowd, approaching.
“Sir Garth! Again, I challenge you!” Brunor continued, unawares.
From the nearby carriage, Mekt and Lavarrus escorted the feeble defender out. A sword had been strapped to his hand.
Seeing the state of Garth, the crowd booed.
“Give us a fair duel,” shouted one man, followed by cheers of many.
“There shall be no duel today,” shouted Berach, stepping through the crowd. The crowd booed the news, but Brunor waived the Northman toward him, sword ready.
Lu and Loomius reached the back of the crowd. “We’re too late!” she said. But Loomius saw his accomplice rendezvousing with Tenzil on the far side of the arena.
Berach steadied his blade, and began positioning himself. Focusing on both his footwork and blotting out the crowd was trick enough, he realized, let alone focusing on his blade.
Brunor charged, knocking him aside with the flat of his sword.
The crowd booed.
The usurper was playing with him, Berach realized, allowing him time to get up.
Berach again faced off against Brunor.
The carriage guards dealt with, Tenzil quickly untied Ayla. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’ll explain later, but we need you to take on Mekt, taranaut-to-taranaut,” replied the beefeater.
Berach charged Brunor, trying a brute-force attack. Brunor deflected him, and the knight went sailing toward the crowd. Berach’s stomach was rebelling in contempt, and he had to release some of its contents before continuing – to half the crowd’s amusement and the other half’s disgust. The acidy taste in his mouth served to reinvigorate his resolve.
Distracted by the battle, Lavarrus and Mekt noticed not the hunched figure who slowly approached Garth, or the slight glow he emanated.
With one more flat-blade attack, Brunor had Berach down face-first, and he didn’t seem to muster the ability to rise. Dag, ready to rush to his aide, was halted by a squad of big burly mercenaries.
Brunor stood above him, turning his sword point-down at the Northman. “Do it! Kill him!” were some of the cries from the crowd.
“That’s the only way you win your fights? Stabbing from behind, Brunor the Black?”
The usurper turned to face an out-of-breath Genni. “Your deeds are well known in Lindum. Your late brother, too – just another back-stabber.”
“LIES!” Brunor charged her, but by the time he swung, she’d side-stepped him, and was at the far side of the arena. Brunor in turn caused a near panic in the crowd, as they almost took the blow meant for the messenger.
“Stand still, you freak!”
“BRUNOR!” The crowd went silent as Garth stepped forward, to the surprise of both his escorts. “Your fight is with ME!”
Brunor trembled. Garth seemed fully able and aware. But how? Then he spied the young priest, who was said to be something of a healer.
He could not lose face now. Win, lose or draw, he was getting what he wanted, vengeance against the illustrious Sir Garth.
Lavarrus and Mekt, hearing a call of distress from Eva, departed hastily, assuming Garth’s appearance of ability was a ruse he could not long maintain. Jan and Ayla followed in close pursuit.
Garth and Brunor circled each other, sizing each other up, while the crowd went wild – this was the fight they wanted to see!
“Was this the right one, Imra?”
“Yes Saihlough. That was perfect,” the queen answered. She detested poisons, but since the gauntlet had been thrown – and she doubted Eva’s training could separate the body from the mind as she was able – that left her task to stall the one-time queen until little faerie faerie-darts did their work.
Brunor, taking advantage of Garth’s still-recovering sense of equilibrium, scored first blood – a cut across the cheek. That shall be your sole victory, Garth vowed.
“I think I remember your brother,” he told the usurper. “He died a coward’s death.”
By the castle steps, Mekt realized they had pursuers. “Go onward,” he said, and began summoning a lightning strike.
But Ayla had the jump on him, summoning up her own power as she ran. Her blast encompassed Mekt’s entire sphere of personal space, although he in turn managed a slight backlash against her.
“Go after Lavarrus,” she called to Jan, readying herself for the next round with Mekt.
Brunor charged in a mad rush that would have worked against the ill Berach.
But not a recovered Sir Garth,
Mimicking Brunor’s toying with the Northman, Garth simultaneously knocked Brunor flat on his face, while sending his blade flying – and delivering a gash along the villain’s thigh.
“You don’t get it, do you? I’m the blood-letter; you’re the gangrene.”
Brunor stumbled to his feet.
Inside the castle, Lavarrus sensed everything was going wrong. He’d fetch Eva and flee. Everything was set-
“Lavarrus.” The quiet tentative voice in front of him was that of Jonah. But how well was he? It was a risk not worth taking. I’ll come back for you, Eva. I promise.
Turning to flee, he saw Jan coming up behind him.
“Mekt, your hair!”
Mekt, summoning another bolt, paid her no heed.
“It’s turned white!”
Half hearing a second round of lightning strikes in the distance, Brunor was bruised and battered. This couldn’t be a fair fight. Garth must have cheated somehow!
He swung around again, trying to focus on his opponent. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in Garth’s face, the last thing he remembered seeing. There was a sudden sensation in his chest, and the sound of water. He felt a lot lighter… and the nothing.
Lavarrus, more used to combat than the peaceful Jan, and more able than the walking-wounded Jonah, evaded his foes, and retreated into the hilly terrain where the rest of the fortress would be built.
Mekt, whose second bolt was more of light than fire, used its brilliance to flee himself. He, too, made is way toward the outer foundations.
Eva, having played dead while Saihlough and Guinevere went out to tend to Jonah, was also able to escape, making her way down a stone-mason’s ladder and out to the construction yards.
“We must flee at once!” Lavarrus said
“Brunor is dead already,” Eva added.
Mekt’s ships lay waiting, he told them, and the trio made their way to the far docks, one step ahead of the archers – and later the mounted warriors – who trailed them. The horses were catching up, but there was still time-
The trio halted, seeing the smoke rising from Mekt’s boat. Pondering their next move, they realized there wasn’t one, as MacKell stood before them.
[ December 26, 2005, 08:15 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Jeka cleaned the wound, and wrapped it with a fresh bandage. She gently rubbed the child’s face reassuringly. “All will be a-right,” she told her, realizing the girl understood not a word.
It felt good, she realized, tending to the sick and infirm – especially the children. This city, so holy to the Christians and Jewes, had no shortage of people in need, and it well afforded her opportunity to fulfill her goals of penance.
She missed Agravaine. She thought of him often, and looked forward to again looking upon his face. But he is where he needs to be, as am I. If that remains my sole complaint, then I have naught to fear.
How quickly the months have flown by! Will I want to leave at the end of our year here? Will Ag?
[ December 26, 2005, 08:16 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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