[Laurelyn]
[Laurelyn/etc.]
Three different journeymen had offered a selection of five epic tales, but finally the High Bard Naomha signaled his bards to follow him from the hall. At which point Acair stood and declared the feasting at an end. Quietly he signaled Laurelyn and Thomis to follow him.
[Thomis]
As he followed Acair and the others from the hall, Thomis turned his head slightly to remind himself of those who had remained. Only Jacques and Daron of their party were still left, and he had no doubt that the jester would soon find himself a place to spend the hours 'til dawn. The serving girl, Bronwyn, already had dodged two or three groping hands, softening the rejection with a smile each time, in order to work her way back to the gaily dressed man.
[Laurelyn/Acair]
Acair led Laurelyn and Thomis back to the room where he had spoken with each of them earlier, but when they arrived they found that the High Bard Naomha had arrived before them. He had divested himself of the voluminous feathered cloak and headdress, but the intricate braiding of his still-black hair gave him a formal appearance. He stood from his chair as Acair walked past.
"Just as well make yerselfs comfortable," Acair said, "This is probably going to be a long conversation." He gestured to two seats near Naomha's; seats that had been arranged by the High Bard to face him. Laurelyn glanced at her father, but took the chair he had indicated. She noted that he sat outside their little circle, but close enough to listen.
"What is it that you need of me?" she asked the High Bard respectfully.
He smiled, and actually pleasant smile though tinged with the weight of knowledge, and said, "The spirits and the signs speak of ye're future lass and of this we must speak."
[Thomis]
Thomis had taken the chair, and leaned back with a nod of acknowledgment to the high bard. The seating arrangement made him feel as if another inspection were taking place, this one the sort of reading Politi mages might be given to. Naomha looked to be one about to speak secrets, and he could only hope they would not be dire.
[Naomha/Laurelyn]
"When ye were but a stripling lass I saw that ye had gifts and offered ye a place in the bardic halls..."
The storyteller felt
distinctly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going - she
knew that many in the Hillrover clan thought
her both coward and
fool for not accepting such an honor. A particularly large honor for one
considered a by-blow, though her Da considered her Ma wife in everything
but vows. Vows her mother would not give. But in honor of the High Bard
she did not flinch, all she did was nod.
"And for ye own reasons," Naomha said, with no judgement in his voice, "Though I suspect ye had tired of the blood rivers early, ye left us. And have done well by the looks of it." He looked over at Thomis and continued, "But now ye ride back, carrying ye're own death shadows, and bringing with ye companions whose fates are tied to thee. And ye ride towards a fate that ye think ye want."
"I will find the Star Dreamer," Laurelyn simply said, not wanting to hear an argument about why it was a fool's quest. The call of the ship was too strong.
"Ye will," Naomha said, "But what ye bring back with ye will require guidance....."
He stopped and cocked his head to one side.
At first Laurelyn thought he was in a trance, but soon she too heard the faint, but growing, sound of the pipes. A sound that sank into bone and stone, leaving both as cold as death.
[Thomis]
When the two stopped, Thomis waited for a moment, knowing that something had caught their attention. To one deaf to the threads, though bound by and to them, it was not unusual to have those about you listening to sounds you could not hear. But after a moment, even Thomas could ... not hear, but feel it, a low dirge or battle call. Tower of Sorrows they called it, with a blessing that was curse for the Hillrovers.
[Laurelyn]
"Do you hear it?" Laurelyn demanded - first of Naomha and then Acair. Her eyes were angry, almost accusatory, as she looked at the two men. "The Piper speaks of Clan death!"
"He does," Acair said sadly.
"We knew that sooner or later he would play," Naomha said, "Such is the Dun of B'ron - whomever holds it shall lose it."
"And yet ye took it over," Laurelyn said - angry with all such foolishness.
"Geill Hillrover pushed for it," Acair reminded her, "To protect his lands from the McLenans."
"And the blood keeps flowing," Laurelyn hissed, fighting the overwhelming desire to scream her anger at the mindset of men and women who trapped themselves in war.
"Ye could begin the change..." Naohma said, nearly drowned out as the pipes became more insistent. His eyes watching as the storyteller got up to pace - obviously unheeding of his words.
[Thomis]
"How much change between the playing of the pipes and the flowing of blood?" Thomis asked quietly. "And what of those who choose the blood -- what burden on them to change it?" His tone was even, but his gaze took in both high bard and chieftain, with the expression of one who knew all too well the difficulty even those of highest rank faced in washing away blood debts. Sons, daughters were offered, and taken. And grandsons ... Thomis touched the scar across the bridge of his nose, before looking to Laurelyn. "How long a warning does the piper give you? How close the attack?" At least he had his sword and his knives by him, though the thought of the others in their party, scattered throughout the Dun, worried him.
[Acair/Laurelyn/Naomha]
"Only hours," Acair said, standing, and reaching for his sword.
Laurelyn looked up at her Da, and saw how tired he looked. Like a man who had been worn down awaiting his own execution. She stood up, with fire in her eyes, and said, "We can prepare then - there aren't that many ways the MacLenans can enter." What she didn't say was that she wasn't going to see her father fall to this senselessness.
"Ye can't fight the Fates," Naomha said, "The Dun has been cursed to change from bloody hand to bloody hand."
The storyteller looked over at Thomis as she remembered how their little party had fought against the forest robbers and their demon, and said, "Perhaps the change you spoke of has already begun - maybe some wild cards have been added in."
But as she looked at Thomis, Laurelyn also remembered how close they had come to dying in the woods, and her eyes asked if he was willing to fight for people he had just met.
[Thomis]
"Among my people, the patterns weave us. But we weave the patterns, also," Thomis answered as he stood. "You can let yourself be knotted in, if you want," and some did, some would ride the weaving complacently. Others, like Mesani, and Kallin, would cut it through with fire and set the loom to moving again, as they would will it, for as long as they could. "And if there are any wild cards to be added, the gods know we brought them with us."
[Acair/Naomha/Laurelyn]
"Perhaps we will cause the patterns to re-shape themselves," Acair said with a fire of his own in his eyes. He looked to his daughter and Thomis and said, "Find ye're friends - and see which ones will be willing to fight."
Naomha just looked worried, though he hide his disbelief in their ability to change the Fates, and said, "I will go and prepare my bards for my battle."
Laurelyn gave Thomis a look of deep gratitude before saying, "We'll find our people." She just hoped that they had time to find where everyone had scattered to.
[Thomis]
"You might want to change your dress," Thomis added. His own clothing would serve well, though he intended to find the fine shirt of link armor that he had packed -- hoping he would never need to use it -- in his bags. "Daron should be back at our quarters by now, also."
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn smiled grimly and said, "You're right - a sword wouldn't go well with this dress."
Once they were beyond the great doors and on their way to their quarters she added, "I swear, though, that every Fate is against us having one quiet moment."
[Ulric]
The Wind had spoken. Ulric moved forward borne by a sudden gust of wind, and aimed his best punch at Gille's chest. With luck (and given the strength he devoted to the blow) he just might break a rib or two in the process of winding the man.
~^~ Identity ~^~ whispered the Wind in his ears. One of her riddles.
[Gille]
Gille expelled air and a unintelligible curse as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He tried to swing out with his dagger at the attacking shadow, but his foot went out from under him, and he found himself painfully sliding down the first few stairs.
His foster brother's cry and the sound of struggle in the darkness drove Hector to hurry his own descent - so he could have firm footing at the base of the stairs. His own panic was growing - to the point he had momentarily forgotten the babe he held.
[Keir]
In his haste it wasn't long before Keir lost his way back to the Hall and he began wandering through the twisting maze of the Dun's many passages. His sharp ears caught the faint sound of footfalls and he worked his way towards them hoping to find someone, anyone, who could show him the correct path. He was certain this wasn't it for it led upwards but pressed on until muffled shouts caused him to slow his pace. One voice he recognized instantly, that of Ulric - Ulric the Rabbit Slayer. As he wondered what had brought the man here, to this forsaken region of this dreadful place, he felt a twinge of embarrassment for finding comfort in his familiar speech.
At the sounds of struggle and the wails of a babe he froze and pressed against the walls at the foot of the stairs. His eyes accustomed to the dim light of barrows and his keen hearing allowed him to gauge the situation in an instant. As Hector and the babe drew near he called to the spiders and a dozen immediately dropped from the ceiling onto Hector's face. Keir took advantage of Hector's startled reaction to the sticky cords, 96 crawling legs and 24 biting fangs to step from the shadows and slammed the butt end of his staff where Big Folk males seemed most vulnerable. He hoped that, despite his skirt, it would cause Hector to drop the child into his arms. He knew once he had her they'd never catch him, especially in the dark.
[Hector/Gille]
As the spiders fell down upon his face, and rapidly worked their way into his shirt, Hector's own terrified howl joined the babe's.
And grew to shriek of pain as some demon struck his manhood. He was torn between clawing at his face and grasping lower, but the end result was that Rue went flying from his arms.
Gille added his own pained howl of horror as the eerie, merciless, sound of warpipes began to fill the Dun; the sound impregnanted the stone, and filled living ears with music from beyond the grave.
[Keir]
Keir had barely managed to catch Rue without dropping his staff when the pipes sounded. An electric shock ran down his spine as he not only heard the mournful wail but smelled it, the same smell of doom he had sensed earlier but now thrice as strong. All his hair was on end as he dashed down the corridor, the fear only making him faster.
[Ulric]
Ulric could not see clearly what had caused Hector to crumple around his groin, but he could guess from the shape and angle that little Master Keir had found his way to the rescue. With no hesitation he ran down the stairs, warhammer in hand. He passed Gille first, using a gentle swing of the hammer to knock his head against the stones, and then a harder swing to catch Hector in the face.
"Hurry!" he shouted up to Maeve, "your child is safe, but we must find Laurelyn!"
He waited for her to appear, hoping to the Wind, the Sea and the Stones that he would not have to go and fetch her.
[Maeve]
Maeve crept towards the stairs on hands and knees, squinting to see the edge of the steps through the darkness. She had heard the pipes, and felt them, and all she really wanted to do was flee, as quickly as possible, far from the Dun of B'ron. But even through her pain and near hysteria, she realized that the tall foreigner was her only protection. So down she went, half-sliding down the stairs, recoiling momentarily from Gille Hillrover's crumpled form before stopping to reach over and unlash a sheathed dagger from his belt.
At the bottom of the steps, she stopped, and pulled herself up the wall to her feet to stand, bloody-faced, staring up -- far up -- at Ulric. "Laurelyn," she mumbled around bruised lips and broken nose, "wit' her da, likely, or her man, Thomis." But where would that be? What with being snatched up, carried away, and nearly tossed head first over the battlements, Maeve had completely lost her sense of how to make her way around the Dun.
[Keir]
Keir sped through the passage, thankful that Rue had quieted some. Either that or the call of the pipes made her seem quiet by comparison. His own scent still hung in the air so he was able to retrace his steps back towards the rooms. He would have liked to stay and aid Mauve and Ulric but knew his first duty was to get the child to safety. He hoped the warrior had the skills to match his bravado.
Reaching his room he fumbled with the latch while juggling both babe and staff. Once inside he dropped his staff and bolted the door before lying Rue on the straw mattress beside the bunnies. Shaking and breathing heavily he flopped down himself. He dismissed any thought of returning as by now the issue was probably resolved one way or another. Glancing forlornly at his growing collection of helpless waifs he shook his head and muttered to himself. "Not a proper situation for a respectable bachelor to find himself in. Not proper at all." With a deep sigh he rose, retrieved his castoff staff and stood guard by the door.
[Ulric]
Ulric gave Maeve a small smile, and brought his sleeve up to wipe some of the blood from her face. He had at least found some retribution for her, he didn't even dare look at what he had done to Hector's face.
"We must find our way down," he said at last, but noticed that neither of them appeared to be aware of exactly how to achieve that goal. "Come", he said, heading off down one corridor. For now, Fate was the best guide he could find.
[Maeve]
"Down?" the girl repeated, staring after the stranger in confusion.
But she followed, picking her way carefully behind him,
realizing only then
that somewhere along the way, one shoe had gone missing, leaving her with
just a threadbare stocking on that foot. For some reason, contemplating
the missing shoe's flight over the battlements down into the darkness distracted
her enough from the pain in her face and from the bruises elsewhere on
her body for her to trail the foreigner without protest. "The McLenans
most likely be the cause fer the piper to play," she whispered after him.
"An' the Hillrovers be readyin' for them."
At least no Calhouns were among the defenders, she consoled herself. Cast out as she was, still she would not want father or brothers to be in the Dun at this time.
[Ulric]
Ulric bit back his next comment - Who cares about names at a time like this? - not out of respect but out of realization. Names were exactly what this situation was caused by, one name versus another. He shook his head as he strode down the hallway, looking anxiously for anything that would lead to safety.
"We either find our way down to open space, or we find the others... Gods! This place is a maze..." He changed course towards a stairwell, cursing the heavy, dark walls which closed in on him from every side.
[Maeve]
"Wait," Maeve rasped, pausing by a casement that opened to the outside. Placing her hands carefully on the edge, she leaned out, trying to guess from the dark outlines of the hills against the night sky what side of the Dun they stood on. "North," she said, pointing slightly to her right. "An' the main gate was ..." Maeve turned slightly, and turned again, trying to orient herself. "That way." She pointed again, straight at the wall across from the casement. "I think," she added apologetically.
[Ulric]
"First this way" he pointed, given that their desired direction was blocked by a wall. He touched her gently on the arm to keep her with him as he took his long strides down the hallway, and he kept an eye on her, fearful that she might fall behind.
He stopped suddenly as they reached an intersection in the corridors.
"This way" he breathed,
pointing to his left. As he started walking he explained, "Laurelyn's voice...
and Thomis... I think."