Blade Archer ~ Twenty-Two
Feb. 24th, 2013 12:58 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yraeKael’s mind clouded over, filled with nothing now but the sight of his mother before him, a grotesquely peaceful sleep in a pool of dark blood. Even when he closed his eyes the image wouldn’t vanish. Dry sobs racked through him, the last scraps of his conscious mind still trying to hold back tears the longer he knelt there.
He didn’t notice the other presence in the room until his brother’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and turned him away.
‘Lin’s blood,’ Ynuk swore softly.
Kael clung to his brother’s shirt, his hands still shaking. Ynuk was here now. His big brother could take charge. He could make sense of this.
Ynuk held him tight for long moments, his body a steady rock for Kael to cry into. He ached all over, his shoulders stiff from crying, his knees crying out over the unnatural position he’d forced them into, his eyes stinging and raw. He didn’t know how long he knelt like that, holding on desperately to his brother as though he were the only thing left in the world. He took a deep breath as he slowly calmed down, then he finally realised Ynuk too, was shaking with quiet sobs and murmuring something under his breath.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he was whispering. ‘I’m so sorry, Kael, I’m sorry.’ Over and again, until Kael finally realised what he was saying.
‘What?’ he mumbled, his voice tight with grief. ‘Why?’
Ynuk’s hold tightened, and Kael began to feel a little frightened. ‘It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’
‘What is? Ynuk, what’s—’
‘E-Elara,’ his brother stammered, knotting his fingers in Kael’s shirt. ‘Haeqo.’ Kael’s brother in law, his sister’s husband. ‘Ralina.’ Ynuk’s voice crumbled as he spoke his own wife’s name, and he cried anew into Kael’s shoulder.
What was he talking about? Kael’s mind flew in circles, and his eyes were drawn once again to the peaceful body of his mother, still curled up under the blanket.
His body turned to stone and broke into cold shivers. Elara. Haeqo. Ralina. How had he known to come here? He barely visited at all anymore, and it was the middle of the night. And his initial response, so calm, like he’d expected this.
The earlier attack in the streets with Ronanen. Kael had been an intended victim, too. Everyone Ynuk held dear had been attacked that night.
Kael pulled away. His hands shaking violently but he was so numb all over now that he couldn’t feel them. ‘What,’ he rasped, his throat dry. He tried again to swallow past the lump. ‘What has ye done?’
Ynuk couldn’t answer. He was a shaking mess on the sandy floor, curled into a ball now he had lost Kael’s support, and could do nothing more than shake his head and mutter over and over, ‘I’m sorry, Kael, I’m so sorry.’
Kael ran back into the night, not knowing or caring where he ended up. He wished he could get lost in this maze of a city, but he knew it too well, even with his mind as clouded as it was. He stopped on more than one occasion, falling back against the wall of some mud brick house while his hands and knees trembled with something far more deep-seated than mere exhaustion.
He was terrified, he realised as he hugged his arms over his stomach. Everything he thought was safe had been torn apart.
He stumbled through the night, eventually falling out onto the Main Road. He hadn’t realised he had walked this far. He thought briefly of finding Ronanen, but the palace loomed at the end of the road. Its solid stone walls promised safety, and he staggered towards the heavy wooden doors that protected those within.
‘Help,’ he croaked up at the guards on top of the wall, and he fell to his knees. ‘Please, help me.’
He didn’t hear whatever response the guards offered him, but one of the two great doors creaked open, just far enough for Kael to crawl inside. Finally safe behind the thickest walls in Raykin, Kael collapsed against the heavy doors and fell, shivering, into sleep.
It was still dark when he awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. He lay on something solid, and the air was fresh with the smell of mint and other herbs. The healing house was much different to the bright, airy building he was accustomed to in daylight.
He closed his eyes again and held a hand to his face. He didn’t want to wake up. There was nothing to wake up to but death. He rolled onto his side and curled up, begging to go back to sleep before he remembered too much and would never sleep again. The silver coin, still in his pocket where he had stuffed it last night, dug into his hip.
A cool hand touched his brow, then stroked his hair back. ‘It’s all right,’ the healer murmured naïvely. ‘You’re safe now. It’s all right.’
‘It’s not,’ Kael snapped back, but his throat was still too raw for it to hold any of his usual venom. He sniffed as tears threatened again. Nothing would ever be all right.
‘It can’t be that bad, surely.’
Kael said nothing, but he allowed the healer to keep running her fingers through his hair. The sensation was distracting, soothing even.
He lay there, drifting in and out of half-sleep, until the sky began to lighten in the slits of windows around the ceiling of the healing house. He drew himself into a sitting position, staring down at his feet where they dangled over the edge of the bed block. His eyes still stung, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. He needed distractions, he excused. Mostly he needed to hurl pointy objects at something. He dropped off the bed block and shuffled like a man three times his age for the door.
One of the healers—Mala, he remembered vaguely—tried to stop him, convinced he wasn’t recovered from the ailment he had suffered last night.
‘I’m fine,’ Kael said with a tired scowl. He pushed her weakly away, then amended, ‘I’m healthy. Just let me go.’
‘Are you sure?’ the healer pressed. Her brow creased with new concern. ‘Would you like me to send for Ronanen?’
Kael’s fatigued body jolted and he shook his head. ‘No, don’t tell her,’ he said with renewed fearful energy. ‘Not a word, right? I weren’t even here.’
Mala nodded her affirmation and finally released him. ‘I hope you’ll tell her, though.’
Kael shrugged one shoulder as he made again for the door. He hadn’t even considered what he would tell Ronanen. What could he tell her? He could hardly even face the situation himself. Telling her, putting everything into words, would make it real. It couldn’t be real. The world couldn’t be turned upside down just like that, overnight.
The world outside the healing house moved on the same as ever it did, as if to confirm his hopes. The cobblestones that paved the palace courtyard were still rough and dusty. The sky was still pale blue in preparation for a pleasant late-Winter day. Scribes and politicians, warriors and palace staff all strutted, strode and shuffled between one building and another, not even sparing him a glance.
A whole family’s just died, Kael wanted to scream, eyes hot again with anger. Instead he clenched his jaw tight to keep it from trembling, then marched purposefully past the barracks to the archery range.
The smaller range reserved for the trainees was being used that morning by what looked to be sixth year blade archers. The six boys were each spread among the six targets, while Master Banok watched on critically with arms folded. Kael waited until the master had his back turned to demonstrate something to one of his students, then he walked casually past the crate of blade belts and lifted a set for himself.
‘Oi!’ one of the boys yelled.
Kael ignored him and slung the belts over his shoulder as he made for the full-size archery range around the other side.
‘Hey!’ Kael recognised the voice that time, and heard Master Banok’s heavy boots storming up behind him.
He ignored the footsteps for as long as he could, until the blade archery master’s heavy hand slapped on his shoulder and spun him around.
‘Leave me alone!’ Kael barked in the master’s face.
Master Banok’s face, already open to deliver him a serve, froze for a moment, clearly unprepared for this retaliation. ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he growled anyway, though the confusion on his face made the command a little less intimidating. Kael had always found the blade archery master to be more bluster than burn.
‘Training,’ Kael snarled through his teeth, holding the belts up as much to explain as to distract the weapons master from his tear-stained eyes.
Master Banok must have noticed, though. ‘Fourth years are in the barracks,’ he said, less as a hint and more as a curiosity. He folded his meaty arms, patiently waiting for an explanation.
Kael gave him only a cursory glare and turned his heel. He just wanted to go home, but there was no home to go back to.
‘What are you running from, kiddo?’ the archery master called after him.
Kael wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and kept walking. To his relief, Master Banok didn’t follow. His knuckles where white where he gripped the belts in an effort to hold himself together, but he had to stop again before he reached the main archery range. The blade belts dropped to the ground in a clatter of steel and leather as he fell back against the wall, breath shaky with silent sobs.
Why had it happened? His family were no-one, so far as Ni-Yana was concerned. A bunch of southerners, the lowest of the city’s residents. Crime was common that far south of the Main Road, but Kael’s family had been targeted. Why them? Kael had done nothing, nothing that would spur someone to kill his family.
He took a deep breath and forced himself straight again, but he couldn’t control his features. He gritted his teeth and thumped a fist against the wall behind him. Master Banok was already asking questions. It wouldn’t be long before others would, too, especially if they saw him crying. If any of his training class caught even a sniff of weakness from him, they’d—
‘Who cares?’ he growled, thumping the wall again. What could they do? Talk about him? Throw a punch, maybe? He’d dealt with worse than a bunch of weakly-trained army trainees could throw him. He was better than any of them. They could just try and follow him home, see how far they’d make it through his streets, his territory.
He pushed himself from the wall with a sniff and another deep breath, then bent to pick up the blade belts. He rolled his shoulders, looked briefly up at the sky, and completed his walk to the archery range.
He didn’t notice the other presence in the room until his brother’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and turned him away.
‘Lin’s blood,’ Ynuk swore softly.
Kael clung to his brother’s shirt, his hands still shaking. Ynuk was here now. His big brother could take charge. He could make sense of this.
Ynuk held him tight for long moments, his body a steady rock for Kael to cry into. He ached all over, his shoulders stiff from crying, his knees crying out over the unnatural position he’d forced them into, his eyes stinging and raw. He didn’t know how long he knelt like that, holding on desperately to his brother as though he were the only thing left in the world. He took a deep breath as he slowly calmed down, then he finally realised Ynuk too, was shaking with quiet sobs and murmuring something under his breath.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he was whispering. ‘I’m so sorry, Kael, I’m sorry.’ Over and again, until Kael finally realised what he was saying.
‘What?’ he mumbled, his voice tight with grief. ‘Why?’
Ynuk’s hold tightened, and Kael began to feel a little frightened. ‘It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’
‘What is? Ynuk, what’s—’
‘E-Elara,’ his brother stammered, knotting his fingers in Kael’s shirt. ‘Haeqo.’ Kael’s brother in law, his sister’s husband. ‘Ralina.’ Ynuk’s voice crumbled as he spoke his own wife’s name, and he cried anew into Kael’s shoulder.
What was he talking about? Kael’s mind flew in circles, and his eyes were drawn once again to the peaceful body of his mother, still curled up under the blanket.
His body turned to stone and broke into cold shivers. Elara. Haeqo. Ralina. How had he known to come here? He barely visited at all anymore, and it was the middle of the night. And his initial response, so calm, like he’d expected this.
The earlier attack in the streets with Ronanen. Kael had been an intended victim, too. Everyone Ynuk held dear had been attacked that night.
Kael pulled away. His hands shaking violently but he was so numb all over now that he couldn’t feel them. ‘What,’ he rasped, his throat dry. He tried again to swallow past the lump. ‘What has ye done?’
Ynuk couldn’t answer. He was a shaking mess on the sandy floor, curled into a ball now he had lost Kael’s support, and could do nothing more than shake his head and mutter over and over, ‘I’m sorry, Kael, I’m so sorry.’
Kael ran back into the night, not knowing or caring where he ended up. He wished he could get lost in this maze of a city, but he knew it too well, even with his mind as clouded as it was. He stopped on more than one occasion, falling back against the wall of some mud brick house while his hands and knees trembled with something far more deep-seated than mere exhaustion.
He was terrified, he realised as he hugged his arms over his stomach. Everything he thought was safe had been torn apart.
He stumbled through the night, eventually falling out onto the Main Road. He hadn’t realised he had walked this far. He thought briefly of finding Ronanen, but the palace loomed at the end of the road. Its solid stone walls promised safety, and he staggered towards the heavy wooden doors that protected those within.
‘Help,’ he croaked up at the guards on top of the wall, and he fell to his knees. ‘Please, help me.’
He didn’t hear whatever response the guards offered him, but one of the two great doors creaked open, just far enough for Kael to crawl inside. Finally safe behind the thickest walls in Raykin, Kael collapsed against the heavy doors and fell, shivering, into sleep.
It was still dark when he awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. He lay on something solid, and the air was fresh with the smell of mint and other herbs. The healing house was much different to the bright, airy building he was accustomed to in daylight.
He closed his eyes again and held a hand to his face. He didn’t want to wake up. There was nothing to wake up to but death. He rolled onto his side and curled up, begging to go back to sleep before he remembered too much and would never sleep again. The silver coin, still in his pocket where he had stuffed it last night, dug into his hip.
A cool hand touched his brow, then stroked his hair back. ‘It’s all right,’ the healer murmured naïvely. ‘You’re safe now. It’s all right.’
‘It’s not,’ Kael snapped back, but his throat was still too raw for it to hold any of his usual venom. He sniffed as tears threatened again. Nothing would ever be all right.
‘It can’t be that bad, surely.’
Kael said nothing, but he allowed the healer to keep running her fingers through his hair. The sensation was distracting, soothing even.
He lay there, drifting in and out of half-sleep, until the sky began to lighten in the slits of windows around the ceiling of the healing house. He drew himself into a sitting position, staring down at his feet where they dangled over the edge of the bed block. His eyes still stung, but he wasn’t shaking anymore. He needed distractions, he excused. Mostly he needed to hurl pointy objects at something. He dropped off the bed block and shuffled like a man three times his age for the door.
One of the healers—Mala, he remembered vaguely—tried to stop him, convinced he wasn’t recovered from the ailment he had suffered last night.
‘I’m fine,’ Kael said with a tired scowl. He pushed her weakly away, then amended, ‘I’m healthy. Just let me go.’
‘Are you sure?’ the healer pressed. Her brow creased with new concern. ‘Would you like me to send for Ronanen?’
Kael’s fatigued body jolted and he shook his head. ‘No, don’t tell her,’ he said with renewed fearful energy. ‘Not a word, right? I weren’t even here.’
Mala nodded her affirmation and finally released him. ‘I hope you’ll tell her, though.’
Kael shrugged one shoulder as he made again for the door. He hadn’t even considered what he would tell Ronanen. What could he tell her? He could hardly even face the situation himself. Telling her, putting everything into words, would make it real. It couldn’t be real. The world couldn’t be turned upside down just like that, overnight.
The world outside the healing house moved on the same as ever it did, as if to confirm his hopes. The cobblestones that paved the palace courtyard were still rough and dusty. The sky was still pale blue in preparation for a pleasant late-Winter day. Scribes and politicians, warriors and palace staff all strutted, strode and shuffled between one building and another, not even sparing him a glance.
A whole family’s just died, Kael wanted to scream, eyes hot again with anger. Instead he clenched his jaw tight to keep it from trembling, then marched purposefully past the barracks to the archery range.
The smaller range reserved for the trainees was being used that morning by what looked to be sixth year blade archers. The six boys were each spread among the six targets, while Master Banok watched on critically with arms folded. Kael waited until the master had his back turned to demonstrate something to one of his students, then he walked casually past the crate of blade belts and lifted a set for himself.
‘Oi!’ one of the boys yelled.
Kael ignored him and slung the belts over his shoulder as he made for the full-size archery range around the other side.
‘Hey!’ Kael recognised the voice that time, and heard Master Banok’s heavy boots storming up behind him.
He ignored the footsteps for as long as he could, until the blade archery master’s heavy hand slapped on his shoulder and spun him around.
‘Leave me alone!’ Kael barked in the master’s face.
Master Banok’s face, already open to deliver him a serve, froze for a moment, clearly unprepared for this retaliation. ‘Just what do you think you’re doing?’ he growled anyway, though the confusion on his face made the command a little less intimidating. Kael had always found the blade archery master to be more bluster than burn.
‘Training,’ Kael snarled through his teeth, holding the belts up as much to explain as to distract the weapons master from his tear-stained eyes.
Master Banok must have noticed, though. ‘Fourth years are in the barracks,’ he said, less as a hint and more as a curiosity. He folded his meaty arms, patiently waiting for an explanation.
Kael gave him only a cursory glare and turned his heel. He just wanted to go home, but there was no home to go back to.
‘What are you running from, kiddo?’ the archery master called after him.
Kael wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and kept walking. To his relief, Master Banok didn’t follow. His knuckles where white where he gripped the belts in an effort to hold himself together, but he had to stop again before he reached the main archery range. The blade belts dropped to the ground in a clatter of steel and leather as he fell back against the wall, breath shaky with silent sobs.
Why had it happened? His family were no-one, so far as Ni-Yana was concerned. A bunch of southerners, the lowest of the city’s residents. Crime was common that far south of the Main Road, but Kael’s family had been targeted. Why them? Kael had done nothing, nothing that would spur someone to kill his family.
He took a deep breath and forced himself straight again, but he couldn’t control his features. He gritted his teeth and thumped a fist against the wall behind him. Master Banok was already asking questions. It wouldn’t be long before others would, too, especially if they saw him crying. If any of his training class caught even a sniff of weakness from him, they’d—
‘Who cares?’ he growled, thumping the wall again. What could they do? Talk about him? Throw a punch, maybe? He’d dealt with worse than a bunch of weakly-trained army trainees could throw him. He was better than any of them. They could just try and follow him home, see how far they’d make it through his streets, his territory.
He pushed himself from the wall with a sniff and another deep breath, then bent to pick up the blade belts. He rolled his shoulders, looked briefly up at the sky, and completed his walk to the archery range.