Luck in the Shadows - Chapter Eleven and Twelve

[kalinara]

So last time, Seregil's increasingly erratic behavior led to a fairly rapid departure of their nice cozy riverboat, and now he and Alec are stuck finding other means to get to Rhiminee.



We rejoin our dynamic duo as they travel by cart down the Mycenian countryside. Seregil is not doing too well, what with the headaches and irrational rage, though he seems to be able to keep it under some control if he stays still.

Alec's taken charge of things now, and he actually does have a pretty workable plan. He's apparently figured out the fastest route to Rhiminee and while he doesn't know where any of the stops are, he figures either Seregil can tell him or he'll ask directions as they go.

It's as decent a plan as any. Seregil does his own part by handing over his sword, dagger and hidden blade.

Alec, took them without comment, then said almost apologetically, “There’s one more.”

“So there is.” Seregil drew the poniard from his boot and handed it over, fighting back another twinge of hot rage as he did so.

I love that.

Anyway, both men are aware that if Seregil really wanted his weapons back, Alec probably wouldn't have much of a chance, but Alec is wisely keeping his own weapons with him. Seregil's not up for riding, but there's money, and well...other ways to get things.

Ah, I see, we'd started in media res. Now we're seeing how Alec got the cart and horse. And indeed, he does manage to use their meagre supplies to buy a battered pony cart and a few supplies. When it comes to a horse however...

Well, time to use what he's learned. With a prayer to Illior, god of thieves, Alec manages to creep into the stable of an inn and very quietly lead a pony out. Seregil is weakly pleased by this.

So anyway, they continue to travel. We're stuck in Seregil's head at the moment, and he's busy with the angst and guilt, figuring that Alec is too honorable to run off but probably regrets that. It's around this time that he starts hallucinating. That can't be good.

We switch to Alec's point of view. Apparently Seregil hasn't eaten for four days, but is physically bearing up better than Alec expected. Mentally...eh. Not so great.

Today he sat hunched over like an old man, despondent except for occasional bursts of intent alertness. At those moments, a terrible glitter came into his eyes and his fists would clench until it seemed his knuckles must surely break through the skin. This new development, coupled with the strange events of the previous night, did not bode well.

Wisely, Alec is starting to be afraid OF Seregil as well as for him. And we learn why: last night, he'd accidently dozed off only to awaken to find Seregil crouched less than a foot away, staring at him.

Yeah. That's pretty creepy. Needless to say, when Seregil offers to take the reins for a bit and give an exhausted Alec a chance to sleep, Alec is not really on board.

And probably for the best, because the hallucinations are getting bad enough that Alec's starting to notice.

Things get worse when they come across a Dalnan funeral. The details are pretty interesting:

Soon after, they topped the crest of a hill and came upon a Dalnan funeral. Several well-dressed men and women and two young children stood by the road, singing as they watched a young farmer driving an ox and plow in the middle of an empty field. The winter soil gave way grudgingly before the plowshare, coming up in frozen plates of earth. An elderly woman followed the driver, scattering handfuls of ash from a wooden bowl into the fresh furrow. When the last of it was gone, she carefully wiped out the inside of the dish with a handful of earth and poured it out onto the ground. The farmer turned the ox and plowed slowly back over it. A dusting of snow floated down as Alec and Seregil rattled past in their cart.

Apparently this is the same as the north. Even the song that they're singing. Seregil actually seems interested in this and admits he hadn't noticed the song. So Alec starts to sing it.

Whatever Seregil is about to say in response is cut off when he sees a terrifying dark figure which starts to dance in a horrifying fashion. Alec doesn't see it but obeys the order to get them out of there.

After that, the dark figure seems to be playing some kind of twisted hide and seek with him. Alec, of course, still can't see it. Even when it gets close enough to seem to grab at them. Seregil goes for his sword while Alec, rather understandably convinced that Seregil lost it, fights back.

They land with Seregil on top. I won't joke about that now because times are clearly stressed, and Alec demands answers. Seregil only says they have to get off the road. Alec agrees.

So they get to an inn. Alec requests two rooms and gets them. Seregil is exhausted and mostly out of it. At least until he wakes up to find Alec crowding him off of the bed. But it's not Alec, it's the spectre. Seregil runs to the door and screams for help, while the spectre fills the room with cold and stench.

It even taunts him:

The specter advanced a step, halving the distance between them. “You led a good chase,” it replied in its soft, moaning voice. “But there is no escape, no forgiveness for such as you.”

Seregil flattened himself against the wall, eyes darting about the room for some cover, finding none. “What do you want?”

“Don’t you know? Such a pity to die in ignorance. But it is all one to us. You are a thief, and we want back what you have stolen. You can elude us no longer.”

He tries to fight back, fighting and clawing at it, almost strangling it as it becomes solid.

You get where this is going. And indeed, when Seregil passes out, we switch to a half-strangled Alec's point of view.

Unfortunately, things look pretty bad:

He stopped short as his light fell over them. Seregil lay unconscious or worse, blood staining the breast of his shirt and his throat. Alec realized he probably didn’t look much better. His nose was bleeding where Seregil had struck him, and his face and neck were badly scratched. Cradling his left hand against his chest, he saw what looked like a round, raw burn in the center of his palm.

He also realizes that Seregil has a bloody wound in his chest, the same place that he'd saw a reddened area when aboard the riverboat. And next to Seregil is the wooden disk. Alec realizes that it is the same size and shape as Seregil's wound and the burn in his own palm.

It had come off in the struggle. Basically Alec had heard the commotion, come to investigate, got nearly strangled for his trouble, and in his attempts to fight back without seriously hurting his friend, he'd yanked it off.

Unfortunately, the inn's landlord is assuming the worst. He accuses Alec of killing Seregil with sorcery and flees with the light source. Alec has to think fast. He ends up wrapping the medallion up (he WANTS to toss it in the fire, but if Seregil thought it valuable enough to steal and bring back to Rhiminee, Alec will comply).

The innkeeper and family hide themselves, so Alec fends for himself, carrying Seregil downstairs over his shoulder like he would a slaughtered deer, and then packing up some of the food that was left out as well as some blankets from the inn. He tells them he'll leave money on the mantleplace, but we don't actually see him do it.

So he goes off in his cart. At least Seregil's a bit more convenient to drag around now?

The chapter ends here.

--

The next chapter is short enough that I'll just tack it on.

We get a brief glimpse inside Seregil's head. He's dimly aware of pain and smells - illness, infection, and being unwashed, but it doesn't last. He's alone.

Alec is pretty alone too. He drives the cart, rests, and tends Seregil's wounds. He does encounter some luck though, when he stops at a farmstead to beg for some herbs and linen. The old woman there comes back with a basket of medicines, rags, tea, milk, and some food. Aw. I like when heroes encounter nice people.

He also gets his first glimpse of the sea, which is of course, the biggest thing he's ever seen. A tinkerer laughs at him, non-maliciously, recognizing him to be an "inlander" by his amazement. The tinkerer asks for a ride, and Alec complies, giving his name as Aren Silverleaf. (Seregil's condition is explained by "a bad fall")

The tinkerer, Hannock, ends up being fairly good company, giving him a recommendation as to where he can sell his cart, AND introducing him to a ship captain who is willing to take Alec and Seregil to Rhiminee for the price of Alec's meagre funds and the promise of work.

Aw. I'm glad that Alec's good deed is getting some benefit. The Captain, Talrien, even helps get Seregil aboard and offers some comforting words when the fear over his condition gets to Alec. It's really nice!

Now that things are a bit more calm and settled, it's time for fear and doubt. Alec remembers the warnings about press-gangs and starts getting worried that he'd handed himself and Seregil over to one. Fortunately, a conversation with a talkative sailor is able to assuage his doubts. (Talrien is apparently a good master and never had a man flogged).

So they get settled in the hold (fortunately full of soft goods), and Alec tries to help Seregil drink something. He's not successful, but at least he's made it to a ship?

The chapter ends with another glimpse into Seregil's head.

—a stony plain beneath a lowering leaden sky stretched around Seregil on all sides. Dead, grey grass under his feet. Sound of the sea in the distance? No breeze stirred to make the faint rushing sound. Lightning flashed in the distance but no rumble of thunder followed it. Clouds scudded quickly by overhead.

He had no sense of his body at all, only of his surroundings, as if his entire being had been reduced to the pure essence of sight. Yet he could move, look about at the grey plain, the moving mass of clouds overhead that roiled and churned but showed no break of blue. He could still hear the sea, though he could not tell its direction. He wanted to go there, to see beyond the monotony that surrounded him, but how? He might well take the wrong direction, moving away from it, deeper into the plain. The thought froze him in place. Somehow he knew that the plain went on forever if you went away from the sea.

He knew now that he was dead and that only through Bilairy’s gate could he escape into the true afterlife or perhaps out of any existence at all. To be trapped for eternity on this lifeless plain was unthinkable.

“O Illior Lightbringer,” he silently prayed, “shed your light in this desolate place. What am I to do?”

But nothing changed. He wept and even his weeping made no sound in the emptiness—

That's pretty fucking creepy.