Jenever's Archives

Archives

Home

Credits

In the Square

As they stood there, suddenly there was a metallic roar - and behind them, some ten feet from the entrance to the drain, a second grating slid down into place fast - sealing off the four of them from the network of tunnels behind. With equal suddenness, the grating at the end of the tunnel was ripped away - and they realised that perhaps twenty of the Hunter's guards had moved into position in a loose semi-circle around the tunnels end, armed with cross bows.

"Come out - all of you - now!" shouted one of the guards. "Without your weapons - or we'll shoot you like the rats you are!"

Lazarus' eyes lit up and a smile washed across his face. "It's good to see you old boy!" he exclaimed loudly, as he began to walk forward. "I not ashamed to say that I was worried I wasn't going to see you again." his voice echoed in the confined space of the tunnel.

As he moved forward, he kept his hands where the guards could see them. Not having armed himself, his hands were empty.

The dog froze - his little dark eyes gazing wide at Lazarus over a mouthful of the ankle cuff he'd been worrying.

"I sure hope all of these fellows are friends of yours," he said as he continued to move towards the guards. "I'd hate to see these guys get hurt," laughed Lazarus.

This was too much for Jenever. She was dirty, wet, and itchy, and she had been humiliated for far too long. She slipped into a recklessly dangerous stance, and began moving forward. She slipped the sword from her makeshift belt and tossed it violently sideways, not worrying if it came close to one of the guards. "Shoot me? Who in the hell do you think you are?" she snapped, still advancing. She shot a sideways glance to see if she had succeeded in getting most of the crossbows trained on her, rather than the other three, then, continuing forward, finally hearing Lazarus' attempt at manipulation, she added softly, "If you want to be friends, fine. If not, I think you had better bloody shoot me, because I am sick of listening to you butcher your fucking metaphors."

The archers (most of whom wouldn't have known a metaphor if it had run up their breeches' legs and bitten their backsides) took a firmer grip on their crossbows.

Morgan snarled deep in his throat, his muscles tense as he prepared to charge into the guards standing there. Before he moved, however, both Jenever and Lazarus made their separate statements.

Breathing deeply, he recovered to himself the armour of honour and Will, shut off his rage, and stepped out of the culvert. He faced the guards, standing at his full height as if the rags he wore were armour indeed. Judging that the speeches already made were sufficient, he waited - though his hand still held the sword he'd taken, his face making it plain that only in death would it leave him.

Tobias stepped forward, his face twisted with panic. He reached out, attempting to grab Jenever's arm.

"No! Please! She doesn't know what she's doing... The water... It's affected her!"

Jenever shook off Tobias' arm, snarling, "Stop it, Tobias. It was cute in Sudgia, but not anymore. You can't protect me, and I won't be protected if it means you have to lower yourself to begging with these slaves. I would rather die than endure any more of this humiliation."

But it was the dog that moved first. He dropped the trouser cuff and - with an ecstatic yelp - raced across the square towards the lanky figure of Lazarus.

But as he did so - in the place were he had been standing, the air shimmered - and the beggar who had borne the dog's attentions with no sign of life, suddenly cringed away in fear.

A sudden dazzling light - and as it faded, two figures emerged.

The first stepped out of the swirl of rainbow light as if risen from his grave, tall and straight, without any sign of the wounds that had all but crippled him earlier. The ragged ruins of his clothes were gone, replaced, and the last remnants of the swirl of light that had marked their entry seemed to vanish, swallowed in the inky blackness beneath his cloak.

Simon.

"The prisoners, Lady," Simon snapped with a glint in his eye, taking in the exhausted escapees with one imperious sweep of his arm. "The rest must be still in there, along with - Lynx." At the mention of her name, he gave a humourless grin, his teeth suddenly glinting a stark white in the moonlight, and the blazing red Plantaxy around his throat pulsed as if in reply. "And, as you promised, I want - that one." His finger pointed squarely at Jenever, and there was a burning hunger in his eyes.

Behind him - stepping into the squalid square as though entering a rich ballroom, dressed in a pale cream lace dress, with a tight fitted corset and full flared skirt that trailed on the ground. The sleeves were tight to past the elbows, then flared and draped over small gloves that came up to her wrists. Over her shoulders was a half cape of dark fur. Her hair was pulled tightly up under a cream colored pill box hat, a pale scarf draped over it covered the upper half of her face. Under the edge of the scarf her lips were red. Blood red.

It was the Lady - and she was looking at the prisoners with a cruel little smile on her lips.

Tobias, hand still caught mid-air, sighed. "Brilliant. Abosutely brilliant...

"Hello, again, Simon," he said louder, flipping his hand over so that he was now inspecting his nails. "Fancy meeting you here... Oh, and it's the Lady... You brought a date! Why don't you kids join us? The water's fine!"

Morgan's none-too-solid grip on his temper failed, and with a savage snarl, he flung his sword at the Lady, following that up with a dive at one of the archers, intending to get underneath the bow and get his hands around the man's throat.

Simon's hand snapped like a striking snake, plucking the hurled sword out of the air as it passed him en route to the veiled Lady behind. "Shoot him," he ordered curtly, looking down at the sword in his hand with clear distaste.

"If you have to shoot them, do avoid the vital organs," the Lady purred, seemingly unfazed by the thrown sword. "I'm not done with them yet..."

As the archers ringed around the tunnel began to scurry back from Morgan in confusion, some already beginning to fire, the Lady's servant continued in a louder voice. "Make no mistake, you face overwhelming odds and superior firepower and position, with no armour or weaponry of your own." He dropped the sword with a clang. "But it is not you we want. Surrender now," he glanced over at the little white dog with a cruel smile, to be met with a high-pitched growl and raised hackles in return, "and I am sure the Lady will be inclined to be merciful."

Lazarus, who had been walking closer and closer to the guards, tilted to one side... as if his knee had given out. As he began to drop he pivoted on one heel and struck out with his other leg, sweeping the feet out from under one of the guards. As he completed the spin he came up at the side of a second guard. One hand shot to the guard's throat his other took control of the man's crossbow.

A quick jerk pointed the weapon at Simon, and it fired as Lazarus broke the guard's trigger finger.

But the guard next to him had leapt - shoving the crossbow aside - it crossed the semi-circle and caught yet another guard in the thigh - making him leap and yelp with the appalling pain.

On the ground by the fountain, the blind beggar began to chant an almost tuneless invocation for succour from whatever gods he might hold favour with ...

The Lady frowned - even as Morgan continued his assault on the guard ...

The guards, slightly alarmed by her order, tried to adjust their fire. One rather bright lad handed his crossbow to his neighbour and leapt at Morgan's back bare-handed, clearly in an attempt to pull him back bodily. Unfortunately, one of his fellows was not so nimbled witted, and continued his shot, killing not Morgan - but the guard who had leapt and straddled him and was now trying to pull his head back.

Suddenly Morgan, whose forward momentum had taken him to the one guard's throat, was given a terrific double shove forward, first by the guard on his back, and then by the bolt that had pierced that guard. It seemed almost imossible that he should retain his feet - but although he staggered - and half-dropped to one knee, he did not fall - unlike the guard who had been the object of his attack, and who was now coughing a mixture of his dying blood and his last breaths through the red ruin that had once been his throat.

The Lady turned away fastidiously.

"Capture them now," she told the captain of the guard crossly. "If one dies, you die. And if another one attacks either myself or my attendent, you die," she spat out, her voice promising much pain....

The guards began to move forward cautiously ... and aiming as the Lady had ordered.

Even with the injuries they had inflicted on the guards, the small group were still outnumbered by more three to one ...

Morgan rose to his feet, holding the body of the strangled guard as a shield. "The only mercy given here will be to those who turn their weapons on the slut who dares to think herself my better! Slay her and the one beside her, and I'll spare your lives. Try to slay me, and your heads will rest atop hers!"

With that statement, he charged towards the Lady, the guard's body held as ram and shield, his own not-inconsequential weight added to that of the body to increase his momentum inexorably.

But as he approached close the the Lady and looked certain to fell her, the blind beggar, who had risen to his feet in alarm as he chanted his incantations to the gods, suddenly lurched forward and fell, directly in Morgan's path. Morgan connected with him sickeningly - and the beggar screamed in pair as a sickening crunch spoke of broken ribs where Morgan's boot had connected. The result was inevitable - both went down in a tangle of bodies, Morgan weighed down by his dead shield. One on the guards stepped forward, his sword reversed, ready to swing it down on Morgan's head and knock him unconscious before he could recover. The beggar, moaning with pain, rolled clear.

The Lady stood there, waiting, as if it were not cold and raining. Her mouth had lost its cruel smile, and now instead was a thin line of annoyance.

The others took advantage of this assault and the confusion it caused. Jenever threw herself at the nearest guards, and her blade made some headway. Tobias managed to get his sword into his hand again, and with a world weary sigh moved forward, attempting to disarm, or, if he was lucky, kill one of the guards before he became a pincushion. His luck seemed to be holding - or perhaps his skill was improving with practice, for he disabled one - even though he was clearly not as proficient as Jenever. As the melee continued around the sewer mouth, Simon lifted his head, sniffing at the air with furrowed brows. His gaze darted about the square, before fixing firmly on the blind beggar who had crawled back to the fountain, still singing somewhat tunelessly to himself and rocking gently his long arms wrapped around his injured ribs, and Simon's eyes narrowed, even as his lips twisted slightly. Two strides took him to right in front of the derelict, who looked up fearfully at the dark shadow that suddenly loomed above. Simon reached down and hauled the man to his feet with little effort, hoisting the hapless fellow up by his rags until his toes were barely brushing the cobbles of the square.

The beggar started to murmur something incoherent, but Simon backhanded him firmly across the face, cutting him short, and shook him violently until his teeth rattled - and he screamed with the pain from his ribs. Something - perhaps a wig, or perhaps it was just the way the false face he wore seemed to slough off and vanish - fell away from the man's face, and Simon smiled a terrible, triumphant smile. Spinning him around, Simon held the helpless man up before him, interposing him like a shield between himself and the fighting prisoners and guards, and wrapping one powerful arm around his neck, such that his eyes bulged out even as he struggled weakly and ineffectually in Simon's grip. Eyes that were familiar to Lazarus, at least.

Flaubon's.

"Your rescuer, I believe," Simon called, his clear voice cutting through the sounds of the fighting. "Surrender now or he dies."

As Simon displayed the unmasked 'beggar' to the former prisoners, the Lady stepped over and murmured something into Simon's ear.

Tobias stared at the poor man, their supposed rescuer, choking in Simon's grip. He looked over at Lazarus, shaking his head slightly.

"It won't matter, one way or another. Your friend is dead if we get captured." He then turned his attention back to Simon. "Or do you have some sort of guarantee? I know you do love your innocent victims, what with how you were pawing over poor Opal like she was Greta F-ing Garbo."

Morgan's bloody-minded rage ameliorated somewhat by the run-in with - as he saw it - an innocent bystander, he nonetheless had no intention of surrender, and rolled away from the guard, then to his feet.

"You must truly think us fools. When faced with a repeat of what we faced before - and even less chance of escape - to surrender would be suicide. If I am to commit suicide, it will be on my terms, not yours. I will die killing all of you, if need be, rather than be taken prisoner again!"

Lazarus (his hand still clutching at the throat of the guard with the now broken trigger finger) jerked his knee up between the guard's legs and shoved him towards the lady.

As the injured guard lurched and fell forward, Lazarus spun and took two quick strides towards the gloating Simon. "Do whatever you think best," was Lazarus' only answer to Simon's threat.

Not yet within arms-reach of Simon, Lazarus kicked. He kicked high. The blow came fast and from the side where Simon had Flaubon by the neck; the contact point was aimed just an inch behind Simon's ear.

Within Simon's grasp, Flaubon saw the blow coming - and seemed to twitch reflexively. It was not much - but it was enough to move Simon out of the full lethal force of the kick. Even so, the blow was enough to send him reeling, his ears ringing and - with Flaubon's weight in his arms, he overbalanced and sprawled on the ground. Three guards moved forward to grab Lazarus.

Flaubon groaned.

The Lady had moved swiftly out of the way. Now she turned, seemingly about to berate the guards again ... when her voice spoke.

Only - the voice was not coming from the Lady who stood before them. It was coming from some distance away.

"Very clever. And very good. I knew when I first saw you, Opal, that you would make an admirable Chosen."

More than one person turned at the voice, to look across the square to the inn (and several looked back to the figure of the Lady who stood among them).

Standing, framed in the doorway, was the upright figure of the veiled Lady. She waited, a deadly sense of timing until all eyes were upon her, the smile on her red lips apparent even in the flickering light of the square.

"Yes ... very clever ... " she said slowly, walking forward into the squre. Two guards ran to form an escort. "If your friends had been more intelligent and recognised you ... or more stupid and surrendered - you might have been clear away now ... "

"As it is ... now you will die together. No more stupidity - we will obtain our answers elsewhere."

Her eye fell on Simon, and her smile grew yet more terrible.

"You ... I have the perfect punishment for you, turncoat. You shall kill her - as you did the other ... and this time there shall be no sweet remedy."

Morgan grabbed the guard who'd been about to brain him, taking his sword and shoving him at another guard, then snarled at Simon and Opal. "If you have a plan, execute it now. There are a great many of them. And next time you plan to do something like this, you might want to consider that a disguise can be too good!"

He moved into a defensive position between the two Ladies...

Tobias gawked, then groaned.

"You could have been a bit less bloody subtle, you two! Or learned how notto act! God almighty... We're too clever for our own damn good..."

He looked up at the Lady defiantly, his voice taking on an edge. "You won't learn anything from us in that damned keep, I swear it! And there will be others, others you'll fear, I know it! I hope it keeps you awake at night, and gives you more worry lines than an ocean of Oil of Olay could hope to wipe away!"

The Lady in the cream dress had turned and watched as the new Lady entered. As the newcomer spoke, a slow smile crossed the lips of the Lady who'd been watching the fight.

"Remedy... elegant," the Lady by the fountain purred, her voice carrying to the corners of the yard. "To think you could actually order the guards to have my own attendant kill me. Elegant, yet... flawed." The voice was the same, down to the intonations.

The smile on the Lady by the fountain grew. "And how will you back up your claim to being the Lady, I wonder.. Perhaps we should lift your veil, hmmm? Yes... let's show your face to your friends one last time, shall we?" The Lady gestured to one of the guards next to her to execute her order.

"Wait!" said the other Lady with an imperious gesture - and the guard beside her froze.

She took a few steps forward into the sudden silence that fell.

"Yes," she said. "Yes... remove her veil. Let everyone see the green eyes of the false Lady."

The Lady by the fountain looked bewildered. Flaubon, still held by Simon, dropped his head, as though in despair.

"Green eyes?" said the Lady by the fountain.

"Snap out of it, Opal!" called Lazarus as he tucked and did a shoulder roll away from the three guards closing on him. He came to his feet close to Simon.

~Payback~ he thought, as his foot swung to break a few ribs for Flaubon.

The guards who had surrounded him leapt and bundled him to the ground - depite the fact that a small dirty grey dog hurled himself on them, barking and snarling.

Jenever looked around in total disbelief, "This is complete idiocy," she snapped, and threw herself forward toward the Lady who had just spoken. Guards rushed forward to block her - she wasn't interested in fighting them or anybody who got in her way; she sidestepped them and then backflipped over several - much to their astonishment. But she was over them and racing for the Lady - one of whose solid bodyguards moved forward to stop her. Jenever threw herself onto him ... and was clearly his match - but he delayed her sufficiently for the five guards who had hurried after her to grab her and throw her to the ground.

Tobias raced after them, his sword drawn, ready to attack.

Simon gave a little sigh, and, almost imperceptibly, his eyes rolled slightly. Then, without warning, his hands locked around Flaubon's neck and head, and he twisted sharply, with horrific speed, and accompanied by the terrible sound of crunching bone. The look of surprise was still evident in Flaubon's eyes as he swayed a moment and collapsed limply to the stones, his body a broken mess, and his head at a most unnatural angle. "As my Lady commands," he murmured, bowing deeply, before one hand shot out and gripped tightly around Opal's wrist, yanking her sharply off balance and pulling her down atop Flaubon's corpse, his cloak sweeping around them both like the wings of some night bird as he forced her down beneath him.

And then ...the bodyguard next to the Lady gave a sudden gasp and lurched backwards, falling to the ground, his eyes starting, and his hand lifting to his throat ...

Across the square from a small hitherto unnoticed alley, Seth set another bolt in his crossbow - as the guards that surrounded him gave a roar and began to advance. Dot, by his side, calmly directed his attention to a guard who had climbed to a vantage point on the fountain - and as she pointed, the statue in the centre of the fountain gave a creaking stone groan and lurched to one side, drawing the alarmed attention of the guards within the vicinity. They seemed thrown off-balance - alarmed by this.

"Fools!" cursed the Lady - but she seemed powerless to avert the steady progress of the phalanx with Seth and Dot across the square - although two of the guards accompanying them fell.

And then, over all the noise and confusion in the square - a clear, hard note rang out. A horn ... several horns - the notes clean and wild.

And the Hunter stepped out onto the balcony that ran around the inn to survey the scene below.

Tobias looked up for a split second, blanching as he saw the figure of the Hunter appear. He raced to where Jenever had fallen, sword out and flashing, and he hoped bravado would at least make the men back off.

"The same goes for you," he yelled, hoping the Hunter could hear him. "And all your horn blowing! You'll get nothing out of us in that dungeon!"

Even as the Hunter moved onto the balcony, the door of the spice shop burst open - and another small group emerged - led by Haakon, with Oliver and a wide-eyed Lynx.

Haakon cursed under his breath as he surveyed the scene in the square. Jenever was grappled, Lazarus down, Opal pinned by Simon, who had apparently changed allegiances once more. Time to slip quietly away and leave the rest of the fools to their fate.

And yet, no.

Loyalty, he had always said, was an emotion fit only for fools and hounds, and Haakon was neither. But if not for the poor fools fighting in the square before him, Haakon knew he would be in the cage still, or worse. He had cursed them for a lack of courage, derided their intelligence and mocked their efforts to plan an escape. But when the time came to jump into the fire, they had jumped with him, and they were in that fire still.

But perhaps he could get them out.

"Oliver, take half your men and try to get Jenever free. The rest of you, try to get Lazarus clear of the fighting. Don't stay engaged if you can help it, just get them and get out. Lynx, stay here unless you think you can contribute with a sword."

"Where are you going?" Oliver asked as he quickly divided his already-thin forces.

"Up."

Oliver glanced up - then nodded, and began to force his small group through the square to where Jenever was struggling with the guards who were holding her down.

Haakon began to climb the side of the inn, his scavenged crossbow slung over his shoulder. It was not easy - Haakon was used to climbing trees and mountains, not buildings - but he made it to the top, on the opposite side of the building from the newly-emerged Hunter.

Morgan, teetering on the brink of bloody-minded despair again, ran forward, hurling his burden at the guards fighting Lazarus and grabbed at the guards holding Jenever down, pulling as many off of her as he could and - preferably - using them as missiles against the Lady nearby.

Jenever herself, with Morgan and Tobias fighting the guard, staggered free from those pressing her to the ground, rose to her feet and looked around for the Lady - only to see her moving away, surrounded by her anxious bodyguard.

"After her!" shouted Jenever, and with Morgan and Tobias at her side, she started in pursuit.

But guards pressed forward, determined to allow the Lady's escape ... and an odd phenomenon seemed to be occurring in the Square - a ringing in their ears, as of a note too high to be heard. The guards seemed not to notice - at all events, their attack didn't lessen.

Virtue, however, who had been growling and snapping at the guards who had felled Lazarus, now began to growl and tug at Lazarus himself, as though urging him forward to where Simon had killed Flaubon and attacked Opal. It was not something that Lazarus was unwilling to do; he rolled - and a shrewd kick sent one guard staggering back, groaning ... a deft blow with the side of his hand, and another guard was sitting down, whimpering as he clutched his broken nose.

Seth was hoping his best that Flaubon was not the only one trying to set up a songline. "You're dead," he said in the general direction of Simon. "This, I swear."

Then he immediately pointed the crossbow in the direction of the balcony and fired at the Hunter, not looking at the target. Seth looked after it was in the air.

"Hunter," he said quietly to Dot.

Dot nodded and, at Seth's side, began to move forward to the base of the balcony...

High on the balcony, cocking and loading the bow as quietly as he could, Haakon began to edge around the building, cursing the need for the caution that slowed him. Then the Hunter came into view, surveying the melee below. Haakon knew he would have only one shot, and he quietly raised the bow to his shoulder, aimed and fired.

Perhaps it was the after-effects of his imprisonment, or the soreness inflicted by the poisoned waters of the lake, but he was slower - just - than he needed to be. The Hunter's awesomely sharp senses saw the barest hint of movement out of the corner of his eye, and he reacted as fast as thought, turning towards Haakon and spinning his axe in a tight defensive circle. The bolt had been aimed true, and would have buried itself fatally in the Hunter's skull. Instead, the spinning axe just clipped the tail of the bolt - a millimetre farther, and he would have been dead - and drove it off course. But not quite enough.

A howl, louder than the horns had been; a guttural roar of superhuman pain and rage, and the Hunter advanced, his axe whirling like a propeller, his right eye a bloody ruin, the bolt still jutting crazily from the side of his head. Haakon was too close; there was no time to drop the bow and draw a sword, much less to reload. Desperately trying to gauge the movements of the Hunter's axe, he raised the crossbow to parry one mighty stroke; it was instantly cloven in half, the pieces ripped from his hands by the force of the blow.

And then the Hunter staggered - and nearly fell. Seth's bolt had found its home in the Hunter's back. Not deep enough to kill - for the Hunter still wore his thick leather armour - it had nevertheless bought Haakon enough time to escape, though, and he hurled himself over the inn railing to escape the whirling maelstrom of sharpened steel as the Hunter recovered once more.

For even with one eye useless and the other nearly blinded by pain and rage, the Hunter was a killing machine unrivalled in all the worlds. Even as Haakon leapt, the Hunter stretched out with the axe, one-handed.

Haakon fell to the ground awkwardly, heavily, tried to stand, couldn't. There was something in his chest; the axe.

Seth and Dot, seeing what had happened, ran forward. Oliver too turned, but he ran back towards where Lynx was cowering under the balcony, white with terror.

The axe had been driven between Haakon's left shoulder and his neck, like a lumberjack's tool sunk deeply into a stump until the next time it was needed. There was blood, too, bright pink blood fountaining from Haakon's chest all around the huge, hideous wound. He tried to draw a breath, found it oddly hard. He struggled to one knee, barely keeping his balance in the spreading pool of his own blood on the cobblestones. He looked up, light-headed, eyes barely focusing, until they met the horrified faces of Seth and Dot.

"Run, you idiots," he wheezed, and pitched forward on his face, and died.

The sound that had been drumming in their ears was growing louder in intensity - a strange, wild music.

Lazarus was closest to the centre and saw it first.

It looked like Simon's cloak, still spread over the recumbent forms of Simon, Opal and Lazarus. It was Simon's cloak ... but it was swaying ... twisting ... circling. It had become a whirlpool of darkness - and of Opal, Simon and Flaubon's body there was no sign.

But although it was dark, there was no feeling of horror. It was an escape - and as the sounds became a sweet wild music, Lazarus was aware that he was looking at a songline - an open escape.

A hoarse yell attracted the others' attention. The Lady had disappeared by now, hustled from the square by her bodyguards. Morgan, Jenever and Tobias were halfway across the square - but it was as though they were suddenly caught up in the whirlpool - their feet drawn back ... their bodies following.

The Hunter was slumped on the balcony. One maddened eye was staring down through the railings at Seth and Dot, crouched over Haakon's body, their hands dripping with blood where they were frantically - fruitlessly - trying to stem the wound that had killed him.

"Stop them," snarled the Hunter. "Kill them - all."

Oliver was running back towards them, dragging Lynx who was crying hysterically.

"Leave him," said Oliver fiercely. "He's dead. We need to get out of here ... "

He pointed towards the swirling black whirlpool ... their escape.

Morgan fought, not to get free, but to remain upright, and did his best to help Tobias and Jenever to do the same, as the whirlpool caught at them. He watched helplessly as Haakon's body fell to the ground, but knew that without his own axe, he would fare no better against the Hunter. Nonetheless, as the whirlpool caught him, drawing him away, he sent out a ringing challenge. "The time will come, Hunter! I was not your enemy before, but I am your death now!"

Tobias stared in horror at the dead Haakon, and the bleeding maniacal Hunter. He shook his head, then grabbed Jenever's arm, moving towards the songline, prepared to go through.

"In this case, I'll take the devil I don't know."

"Fates be damned!" screamed Lazarus, his face splattered with blood from his melee with the guards. "Someone grab Haakon!"

Seth shook his head, and with a low growl dropped his crossbow and picked up Haakon's body (and the Hunter's axe) into a fireman's carry across his shoulders.

"Here's your chance to take him out, boys!" he yelled at the guards surrounding the Hunter. "You can always say that I did it!"

He moved quickly to the songline and the promise of escape, and turned for a last moment towards the scene.

"Prepare yourself, Bitch," he called loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I'll be back- and hell will be coming at my heels. You have no idea what you've started!" And with that, he turned and jumped into the songline...

Haakon had been lifted from in front of her, and had gone into the songline. Dot could think of a hundred reasons to stay, but the need for survival overwhelmed her. She looked, panicked, at Seth, and then ran for the songline.

Jenever shot one last murderous glance the way the Lady had gone, spat on the ground and moved toward the whirlpool. She did not in any way acknowledge the help of the two men, or Tobias' hand on her arm. She felt it necessary, however, to say some words before she followed her companions into the maelstrom. After all, everyone was doing it. "See you later, One-Eye," she called to the Hunter. "It could have been fun."

As the melee in the now-bloody square began to fade, the people of Karadon, guards, corpses, Hunter, all, became more and more ghostly, like wisps of smoke and mist that then began to trail off, running into a more formless whitish cloud that enveloped the ground beneath them. Quickly, such a term lost its meaning, for the otherworldly between-space that was the songline asserted itself more fully on their senses, until it seemed as if they could feel and see the low, haunting melody of the song in the ether around them, a teasing and ghostly thread that called to them to follow. Above the mist, all seemed black for a moment, like the black of the whirlpool that had formed by the fountain, but then it became clear that it was Simon, seeming to hang there in space, somehow seeming twice his normal size, yet gaunt and thin, like he was stretched too far. One arm was outstretched, and the midnight veil of his cloak hung from that, no simple cloth here but a yawning void, seeming to reach into infinity, tendrils of darkness spinning off from time to time and vanishing into the ether beyond. Above that blackness, his face was the only distinguishing feature that could be made out of him at all, and it was a stark white, pale as death, and his eyes hollow and empty sockets that nonetheless seemed to stare into the far distance.

*This is not my song,* he intoned, and his words were in song nonetheless, a counterpoint harmony to the lilting thread that they followed. *I merely hold the gate/Until all are through/Where is Lynx?/Bring her too.*

Copyrights & Credits

Designed by Aethereality.net
Images © Index Stock
Textures © The Blooming Effect and Hybrid Genesis
Brushes © Relished.net and Cirratus.org and Roshiweb.com