Etude 12 (continued)
Hooray for word wars! (It's a mostly-chatroom thing... Basically, you and a bunch of other people agree on a time limit, and then you all write for that time and see who managed to write the most.)
It was slow going, walking with the sword between. It was hard to navigate the trail, and the narrow spaces between the trees often meant a lot of awkward maneuvering as they tried to get through and still keep hold of the sword. But the sword's blue glow surrounded them, protecting them from the fluttering black shapes around them. The thrumming of the sword was a comfort, somehow, like the purring of a beloved cat. It also served to warn them of when they were heading into more danger. After a while, Armand stopped dead.
"We're closer to the spires, aren't we."
"What?"
"Look over there." He pointed. "The spires of the Shrine of Winter. We're much closer to them than we used to be."
Sarah looked in that direction, slightly confused. "I guess?"
"Damn it!" Armand glared at the fluttering black shapes around them. "They're driving us towards the shrine!"
"Oh... I guess?"
"Well, I'm not going to let them." He yanked at the sword, and changed direction, heading into the thickest clump of the things. The swords gentle thrumming grew to an insistent, sharp vibration that rattled in her teeth.
"Armand, should you be doing that?"
"Damned if I'm going to let them lead me where they want me to go!"
The sword began to whine insistently, high-pitched and rattling. But Armand was storming towards the center of the gathering, and Sarah didn't dare let go of the sword and its protection. "Armand! Wait!"
He paused, finally, and turned to look at her. "If there's somewhere they don't want us to go, then I'm going there." And he continued walking. The blue glow around them seemed to flicker, as if the effort of keeping them shielded from so many of the creatures was beginning to tell on it.
"I think the shield's dying!"
That stopped him cold. He closed his eyes for a moment, holding the blade. Then he opened his eyes again, gritted his teeth, and slid the edge of the blade along his arm. It opened a gash in his arm that dripped blood, red and hot along the blade. As Sarah gaped, the blade seemed to absorb the blood, and the glow grew brighter again. "Come on!" And Armand kept moving towards the creatures. There was no longer any light around them, save the light from the blade and the blade's protection. The things had so encircled them that their black rags blocked out all the light from the sky.
...
"I'm scared, Armand."
He refused to answer, but tried to walk further, into what seemed like a solid mass of the creatures. He stopped suddenly, as if he'd run into a wall. "Damn it!" He tried to kick against it, but the wall slid around the barrier between them, and then re-formed back in its original place. He yanked at the sword, sending Sarah stumbling into him, then held her hand and grabbed hold of the hilt of the sword. "I will not be driven!" He closed his eyes, and then raised the blade to his arm again and let it bite into the flesh. Blood spilled from the wound, into the thirsty blade. Armand seemed to be biting his lip against the pain, but he held the sword up with his other hand -- it wobbled weakly in his off hand -- and then closed his eyes. Sarah felt a sudden tension build up in the air, almost like the times when she managed to somehow freeze things, but different somehow. And then the sword's glow grew brighter and brighter, cycling from a gentle blue to a pure, searing white light. The creatures around them shrieked at the light, and started to swarm away to a safe distance. And somehow the light grew even brighter, brighter still than anything she could have imagined, and the shrieking grew shriller and more piercing. And then the light flared for one last time, and the creatures spat forth one last dying scream. And, blinking from the afterimages, Sarah saw Armand collapse, still holding the sword.
I have to move him somewhere safer, she thought. It's not safe here, those things could come back any minute... But I don't know where we are anymore! She looked up and around. There were trees everywhere, and now there was thick snow on the ground, not just spatterings of frost. I can't see the trail any more! Okay. Try not to panic. He's bleeding. There are first-aid supplies in our packs. I should do something about that first before I try to move him. At least I think that's what I need to do... I wish I remembered more of that first-aid class in sixth grade. She started rummaging through her pack, finally managing to uncover some fine cloth bandages and mugroot. She patted the mugroot over the two cuts, then bandaged them, trying not to tie the bandages too tight and completely cut off circulation. Armand was still unconscious. Wait, isn't there something about not letting people go unconscious after they suffer trauma? Aagh! I can't remember! She finished bandaging him, then tried to wake him. "Armand?" There was no response. She tried to shake him, gently, not wanting to dislodge the bandages or disturb them. "Armand." She thought he groaned slightly in his unconscious state, but there was no other response. And I don't know how to use the sword. And... I don't think I have the guts to cut myself to feed it, or whatever he was doing with his blood. She picked it up, gingerly. It was thrumming gently now, and she thought she detected a sense of self-satisfaction at the way things had gone. She stared at it stupidly for a while, and then put it back down. Does this count as a time of dire need? But what if there's some other time later on that's even more dangerous... I don't want to waste Seraiel's nut on something trivial. She picked up the sword again. Wait, I seem to remember something... I think he gave me the sword when I was suffering from running in the cold, and that made me feel better. Can the sword help heal him? Wait, but it's the reason he's so drained... I don't know! Gah! I wish I knew what to do. Finally, doubtfully, she put the sword back in Armand's hands and closed his fingers around it. Then she tried to arrange him so he was in a slightly more comfortable position. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the flickers begin again. She shook him, harder. "Armand! Wake up! Armand!" He still didn't respond. "Come on! You have to wake up now! I don't know what to do! They're coming back for us... Please! Wake up! Now! Help!" And she barely felt the rush of tension, the building of the dam and the water breaking against it. And then Armand's outlines blurred nauseatingly, bringing tears to her eyes, and then he was standing up, holding the sword. The tension broke, rushing out of her like water. She swayed, glad she was already kneeling, because she probably would have fallen over if she'd been standing. She looked up at him weakly. "They're coming for us again."
"I know. I don't think I can do that again..." The bandages on his arm were soaked through with blood, and already crusty and clotted. He looked at them, puzzled, and then moved one aside with his other hand. He gasped as the clotted blood tore away from his skin, but beneath that, the skin was clear and undamaged. "What happened?"
"I gave you the sword to heal you... I don't know what happened."
He shook his head. "Come on. I think I know the way back to the road." He held out a hand to her, then thought better of it, and held out the hilt of the sword to her again. She took it, and the blue glow surrounded them again. And they walked off, away from the Winter Shrine.
In a darkened room, beside a huge mirror that seemed to reflect everything in a strangely warped and distorted manner, sat a figure in a black robe. It seemed to have been watching the mirror, pensively, and seen something that pleased it. After a while, it stood, and walked to the mirror again. "Bring them back," it murmured, in a voice icy as the grave.
Armand still felt a little muzzy. He wasn't entirely sure of why he'd acted as he had just a few hours ago, but he'd managed to save them. Somehow. And then Sarah had done something and his wounds had healed over. He didn't dare try to consult the sword now; it was spending too much of its energy and attention on keeping the ward over the two of them. He wished he knew what had happened. He still felt a little weak from the experience, and watched the path carefully to make sure he didn't stumble. He saw the ribcage that Sarah had tripped over, and sighed with relief inwardly. They were at least headed back towards the trail that they'd been following. He kept watching the trail. Sarah seemed to be lost in some private contemplation of her own. So it was Armand who noticed when they encountered the rib cage for the third time.
"Sarah."
"Huh?" She looked startled.
It was slow going, walking with the sword between. It was hard to navigate the trail, and the narrow spaces between the trees often meant a lot of awkward maneuvering as they tried to get through and still keep hold of the sword. But the sword's blue glow surrounded them, protecting them from the fluttering black shapes around them. The thrumming of the sword was a comfort, somehow, like the purring of a beloved cat. It also served to warn them of when they were heading into more danger. After a while, Armand stopped dead.
"We're closer to the spires, aren't we."
"What?"
"Look over there." He pointed. "The spires of the Shrine of Winter. We're much closer to them than we used to be."
Sarah looked in that direction, slightly confused. "I guess?"
"Damn it!" Armand glared at the fluttering black shapes around them. "They're driving us towards the shrine!"
"Oh... I guess?"
"Well, I'm not going to let them." He yanked at the sword, and changed direction, heading into the thickest clump of the things. The swords gentle thrumming grew to an insistent, sharp vibration that rattled in her teeth.
"Armand, should you be doing that?"
"Damned if I'm going to let them lead me where they want me to go!"
The sword began to whine insistently, high-pitched and rattling. But Armand was storming towards the center of the gathering, and Sarah didn't dare let go of the sword and its protection. "Armand! Wait!"
He paused, finally, and turned to look at her. "If there's somewhere they don't want us to go, then I'm going there." And he continued walking. The blue glow around them seemed to flicker, as if the effort of keeping them shielded from so many of the creatures was beginning to tell on it.
"I think the shield's dying!"
That stopped him cold. He closed his eyes for a moment, holding the blade. Then he opened his eyes again, gritted his teeth, and slid the edge of the blade along his arm. It opened a gash in his arm that dripped blood, red and hot along the blade. As Sarah gaped, the blade seemed to absorb the blood, and the glow grew brighter again. "Come on!" And Armand kept moving towards the creatures. There was no longer any light around them, save the light from the blade and the blade's protection. The things had so encircled them that their black rags blocked out all the light from the sky.
...
"I'm scared, Armand."
He refused to answer, but tried to walk further, into what seemed like a solid mass of the creatures. He stopped suddenly, as if he'd run into a wall. "Damn it!" He tried to kick against it, but the wall slid around the barrier between them, and then re-formed back in its original place. He yanked at the sword, sending Sarah stumbling into him, then held her hand and grabbed hold of the hilt of the sword. "I will not be driven!" He closed his eyes, and then raised the blade to his arm again and let it bite into the flesh. Blood spilled from the wound, into the thirsty blade. Armand seemed to be biting his lip against the pain, but he held the sword up with his other hand -- it wobbled weakly in his off hand -- and then closed his eyes. Sarah felt a sudden tension build up in the air, almost like the times when she managed to somehow freeze things, but different somehow. And then the sword's glow grew brighter and brighter, cycling from a gentle blue to a pure, searing white light. The creatures around them shrieked at the light, and started to swarm away to a safe distance. And somehow the light grew even brighter, brighter still than anything she could have imagined, and the shrieking grew shriller and more piercing. And then the light flared for one last time, and the creatures spat forth one last dying scream. And, blinking from the afterimages, Sarah saw Armand collapse, still holding the sword.
I have to move him somewhere safer, she thought. It's not safe here, those things could come back any minute... But I don't know where we are anymore! She looked up and around. There were trees everywhere, and now there was thick snow on the ground, not just spatterings of frost. I can't see the trail any more! Okay. Try not to panic. He's bleeding. There are first-aid supplies in our packs. I should do something about that first before I try to move him. At least I think that's what I need to do... I wish I remembered more of that first-aid class in sixth grade. She started rummaging through her pack, finally managing to uncover some fine cloth bandages and mugroot. She patted the mugroot over the two cuts, then bandaged them, trying not to tie the bandages too tight and completely cut off circulation. Armand was still unconscious. Wait, isn't there something about not letting people go unconscious after they suffer trauma? Aagh! I can't remember! She finished bandaging him, then tried to wake him. "Armand?" There was no response. She tried to shake him, gently, not wanting to dislodge the bandages or disturb them. "Armand." She thought he groaned slightly in his unconscious state, but there was no other response. And I don't know how to use the sword. And... I don't think I have the guts to cut myself to feed it, or whatever he was doing with his blood. She picked it up, gingerly. It was thrumming gently now, and she thought she detected a sense of self-satisfaction at the way things had gone. She stared at it stupidly for a while, and then put it back down. Does this count as a time of dire need? But what if there's some other time later on that's even more dangerous... I don't want to waste Seraiel's nut on something trivial. She picked up the sword again. Wait, I seem to remember something... I think he gave me the sword when I was suffering from running in the cold, and that made me feel better. Can the sword help heal him? Wait, but it's the reason he's so drained... I don't know! Gah! I wish I knew what to do. Finally, doubtfully, she put the sword back in Armand's hands and closed his fingers around it. Then she tried to arrange him so he was in a slightly more comfortable position. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the flickers begin again. She shook him, harder. "Armand! Wake up! Armand!" He still didn't respond. "Come on! You have to wake up now! I don't know what to do! They're coming back for us... Please! Wake up! Now! Help!" And she barely felt the rush of tension, the building of the dam and the water breaking against it. And then Armand's outlines blurred nauseatingly, bringing tears to her eyes, and then he was standing up, holding the sword. The tension broke, rushing out of her like water. She swayed, glad she was already kneeling, because she probably would have fallen over if she'd been standing. She looked up at him weakly. "They're coming for us again."
"I know. I don't think I can do that again..." The bandages on his arm were soaked through with blood, and already crusty and clotted. He looked at them, puzzled, and then moved one aside with his other hand. He gasped as the clotted blood tore away from his skin, but beneath that, the skin was clear and undamaged. "What happened?"
"I gave you the sword to heal you... I don't know what happened."
He shook his head. "Come on. I think I know the way back to the road." He held out a hand to her, then thought better of it, and held out the hilt of the sword to her again. She took it, and the blue glow surrounded them again. And they walked off, away from the Winter Shrine.
In a darkened room, beside a huge mirror that seemed to reflect everything in a strangely warped and distorted manner, sat a figure in a black robe. It seemed to have been watching the mirror, pensively, and seen something that pleased it. After a while, it stood, and walked to the mirror again. "Bring them back," it murmured, in a voice icy as the grave.
Armand still felt a little muzzy. He wasn't entirely sure of why he'd acted as he had just a few hours ago, but he'd managed to save them. Somehow. And then Sarah had done something and his wounds had healed over. He didn't dare try to consult the sword now; it was spending too much of its energy and attention on keeping the ward over the two of them. He wished he knew what had happened. He still felt a little weak from the experience, and watched the path carefully to make sure he didn't stumble. He saw the ribcage that Sarah had tripped over, and sighed with relief inwardly. They were at least headed back towards the trail that they'd been following. He kept watching the trail. Sarah seemed to be lost in some private contemplation of her own. So it was Armand who noticed when they encountered the rib cage for the third time.
"Sarah."
"Huh?" She looked startled.
posted by Selene at 4:31 AM
0 comments
