Shadows 8.1
Feb. 3rd, 2007 12:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
measured_wordsAha, finally done! And everything becomes clear - the reason it took me so long to finish this is that that it turned out to be nearly twice the length of most single sections... Well I guess I can get away with making the other scenes shorter this way ;)
Shadows 8.1
It was the second day after he’d talked to Volaris – the real Volaris. Matteo hadn’t dared stay in he village any longer after that, and had slowly been putting as much distance as he could between himself and the shrine. It was hard going. He had to stick to the road to make any progress at all, but had to be careful of strangers who crossed his path. So far, he’d been lucky and seen none. Cheng was right – this was a real backwater. No one had come for him yet either – whatever the cult had planned for the villagers apparently demanded their full attention and resources. Maybe Geron just didn’t expect him to live.
Gordon kept him going. The Shadow could move ahead easily and keep an eye out for any danger. He also watched for secluded places that Matteo could stop and rest, as he needed fairly frequent breaks. Gordon kept him moving forward rather than crawling back when his cravings were at their worst. Even with his help, Matteo wasn’t sure he could make it. The supplies he’d managed to scavenge wouldn’t last forever and he’d been forced to abandon a lot of them when he’d given up on riding. His leg hurt too much no matter what he’d tried, and it left him too weak to control the horse. Nothing to do but stagger on as long as he could – he refused to give Geron the satisfaction of his death.
He tried paying attention to his surroundings. If he cold give Volaris a better idea of where he was, he knew the Loyalists would come. But he’d never learned the name of Cheng’s village. Hunan province was quite large, and the Prince just didn’t have the manpower to cover such a wide area without reference to some better landmarks. He paused to consider the low hills that peaked out over the horizon to the northwest. Everything seemed so far away. He’d even left behind the tree line of the shrine’s forest this morning. There was nothing here but gently rolling prairie, left wild save for the dirt road that amble westward towards civilization. In the distance he could make out a dust cloud, kicked up by riders headed his way. It would be hours before their paths crossed, and Gordon would warn him what to expect long before. It wasn’t even noon – the sun was still angling up towards its zenith.
He ploughed onwards limping carefully and leaning heavily on his staff. He’d wrapped his hands in cloth to protect his scars and prevent any new blisters. Eventually, a long shadow glided to a halt in front of him. Gordon’s outline was much more distinct in the daylight – tall and broad shouldered as he’d been in life, but filed in with inky blackness. His features were visible only in profiled silhouette.
“Four travelers, one horse, one covered donkey cart.” His voice retained that same dry quality of rustling paper from their first contact at the Spirit Festival, but his mentor’s capacity for expression was more limited. Everything was more basic than it had been even in the shrine. He’d warned this might happened. “Scavengers. Eta.”
They wouldn’t be armed, then, or at least not well, though they might try to rob him if they thought he had anything of value. They’d probably seen the smoke from the village when it burned and were coming to look for work or take what they could from the dead. He’d warn them away if he could.
Matteo was resting at the top of a small hill when they reached him. Gordon had tried to convince him to hide, that it would be better just to save himself and let these people meet their own fate. He couldn’t do it, and the Shadow hadn’t really invested too much effort. Giving the cult more victims was an unsettling choice on too many levels.
The rider reached him first – a small man with his feet wrapped in rags. He pulled up beside the Elf, sizing him up. Matteo wondered how he appeared. He was dirty from traveling, and his freshest wounds were still healing – slim scabs on his face and elsewhere that he hoped wouldn’t add to his scars. He lifted a hand in greeting. The rider nodded in suspicious acknowledgement, then turned his mount and headed back to the others. Matteo watched him go, noting his poor horsemanship. He’d probably found the horse, if he hadn’t stolen it, and would likely be killed for the offense of even daring to touch it if any Samurai caught him with the animal.
The completed party turned up a short time later. A different man rode the horse this time, reigning up awkwardly in front of Matteo. He was larger, and had a thick wooden club hanging from a ratty sash. Like the first rider, he was dressed in rags, though he had sandals. The cart pulled to a stop a few meters away, out of danger incase anything should happen. A woman sat on the driver’s bench, holding the reigns of a sorry looking black donkey. Two others – the first rider and a second woman – stood to either side of the animal, with the girl resting her hand on its flank. Four pairs of suspicious eyes regarded him where he sat, spread legs, staff laid across his lap for the moment.
“Greetings, traveler-san.” The leader’s tone was grudging, his respect merely convention expected of the lowest caste. Behind him, the girl near the donkey leaned over to whisper to her companions. The driver nodded.
Matteo smiled again in greeting and made to get up, slowly and ungracefully. The eta all tensed, but he hoped his message was clear – he was no threat.
They waited for him to speak. The trio in the rear shared uneasy glances when he remained silent. The rider tried another question, his voice filled full of bravado.
“Do you hail from the village ahead?”
He nodded.
Another pause, then, “Can you tell us what lies ahead?”
No, would that he could. Matteo shook his head, looking away from the group.
“No?”
“Can you speak?” The girl beside the donkey spoke up in a shy voice. The rider gave her a sharp look, but frowned as Matteo once again indicated the negative.
“Is the village safe?” She stepped forward, carefully avoiding the rider’s disapproving scowl. The other man – they all seemed quite young, now that he could get a better look at them – slipped around to stand beside her.
“Qiu!”
She hung her head, though she kept her eyes on Matteo. He shook his head for the third time, more emphatically now. He felt a little dizzy afterwards.
“Genming.” This time it was the woman in the cart who spoke, and she beckoned the rider over. With a warning glance at the Elf he dismounted, tossing the reigns in the vicinity of the smaller man. He was fairly tall for a Southerner, and might even have been quite large if malnutrition hadn’t eroded his broad frame into leanness. His dirty black hair was cut roughly so that it fell just above his shoulders in the back, and his eyes in the front. The other man stepped towards the startled horse, and Qiu followed. She was just as ragged, with her long hair bound into uneven tails with twisted rags. None of them wore real kimonos, but scuffed trousers that fell just below the knee and ratty tunics.
Matteo tried another smile as they approached. Qiu seemed curious if nervous, but her companion held her back, keeping the reigns loosely in his other hand as the horse backed away slightly, attuned to the tension of the scene.
“He could be dangerous, Qiu.”
“He doesn’t look dangerous, Minsheng. You won’t hurt us will you?”
He smiled again. “Un-uh.” Basic sounds he could still manage, and he hoped the understood. Qiu looked cautiously relieved, but looked to Minsheng for his reaction. The small southerner was shorter than Matteo, and his attention was divided. Seeing that the boy was about to get stepped on, the Elf stepped forward. He took the reigns higher up, controlling the horse’s head. He was no great rider himself, not these days, but he’d clearly been around more than these people. The animal snorted nervously and tried to throw back its neck. Lacking leverage, and finding itself in more capable hands, it settled down with another soft snort.
“Hey, what are you doing over there!” Genming glowered over at them, leaving off his private conversation.
“It’s alright,” Minsheng called back, grudgingly taking back the reigns the way he’d been shown, but the leader made his way over regardless.
“The village isn’t safe, Genming.”
“No?” He looked to Matteo, who just held up his mangled hands. The bandages wrapped around them were conveniently bloody from burst blisters and where some of the deeper cuts kept reopening.
“You’re a foreigner.”
Matteo nodded. If they were as deep into the Empire as he suspected, they might never have seen an Elf, or at least not be familiar enough to recognize one with his ears docked. The eta leader frowned.
“Did the villagers do this to you?”
He might have lied, but since he wasn’t sure what the group would do either way, he decided against betting on Genming’s social beliefs. Someone who abused a foreigner might not abuse an eta…. But they might. Matteo frowned as he shook his head, then drew his thumb across his throat hoping they’d get the point.
“They tried to kill you?”
“I think he means they are dead.” The cart driver had dismounted during this exchange and came to stand with the others. Her voice was quiet, but had an aura of composure that the others lacked. Matteo nodded in response.
“All of them?” Qiu looked to the other woman in dismay after she had the Elf’s answer: dead or as good as dead. “Well if there is no one alive, that means no one to pay us to wash corpses, Chiyo.”
“What happened? How did you escape?”
“How do you expect him to answer?” Qiu scowled at Genming. “He can’t speak.”
“That’s convenient.”
This was a waste of time. As soon as the cult had people to spare, they’d come looking for him and anyone who helped him. He needed to get some real distance away before Geron tried any other tricks to lure him back. It was a heavy thought – chilling – but there was a small voice at the back of his head more than wiling to be lured. Geron was the only one who could really silence the worst of his cravings. He knew it wasn’t just his resolve weakening. Just thinking about it now made him feel lightheaded. As for the eta, if he had no words to convince them, maybe he could show them.
He closed his eye and concentrated. He wasn’t quite used to his Shadow powers yet as they came from an outside source, unlike his own magic. He coalesced the shadow material between his hands, forming it into images. A miniature version of the ruined village appeared. For extra effect, he populated it with a number of Crimson Masks running madly through the streets, they dual blades dripping with blood.
“Oni!” Minsheng stepped back from the sight. The others seemed equally disturbed as he turned his head to take in their reactions. He hoped it was the image and not his manifestation of the illusion, but let it go just in case. He shouldn’t have let himself think about the Agony – it was breaking his concentration. He leaned against his staff, feeling a bit dizzy.
Genming took Chiyo by the arm, and the two repaired back towards the cart. With a sly glance after them and a quick sympathetic smile at Matteo, Qiu stole after them. Minsheng readjusted his position in relation to the horse and glanced after the others. He was quiet a moment while Matteo tried to fight off his cravings.
“Did you see the oni?”
Matteo snapped his eye open, startled by the quiet youth’s question. He nodded.
“Are they the ones who hurt you?”
He couldn’t explain. The Masks weren’t really oni the way Minsheng understood. It was complicated to put into hand gestures, and he didn’t feel up to the attempt. He shrugged weakly. Maybe Gordon had been right. At the least, he shouldn’t have waited for them to catch up to him. He wasn’t feeling like continuing right now, and certainly wasn’t far enough away. Only two days travel – practically nothing.
“Are you well?”
Of course he wasn’t. he was going to die out here, sooner rather than later, and with no access to the one thing that cold give him any peace! Matteo looked back the way he’d come, knowing that it didn’t matter what he decided. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. Despite the sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, he felt cold, and shivered.
“Chiyo!” Minsheng stepped back. “I think he is sick…”
“If sir is not offended by my unclean touch, I am a healer.” Where had she come from? Snuck up on his blind side? He nodded. He could use a healer, and didn’t care too much where she came from at this point. If he could only concentrate for a moment, he could remember the song, and the trick Gordon had taught him. Chiyo was whispering her own magic, and he barely felt her touch when the cool sensation of a healing spell washed over him. His fresh wounds closed over, though he felt the now-familiar tightness in his chest, and coughed. The spell was still a relief, and once he could breathe again, he did feel somewhat stronger. She cast another spell, and though he couldn’t feel any effects, she seemed satisfied. “You aren’t going to die today. Your condition isn’t catching?”
He shook his head. Of course they were worried about themselves. They probably had a hard enough time gaining admittance to towns and villages as it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look that passed between Chiyo and Genming. The priestess turned back to him, a calm smile on her lips. “Then you should travel with us.”
Shadows 8.1
It was the second day after he’d talked to Volaris – the real Volaris. Matteo hadn’t dared stay in he village any longer after that, and had slowly been putting as much distance as he could between himself and the shrine. It was hard going. He had to stick to the road to make any progress at all, but had to be careful of strangers who crossed his path. So far, he’d been lucky and seen none. Cheng was right – this was a real backwater. No one had come for him yet either – whatever the cult had planned for the villagers apparently demanded their full attention and resources. Maybe Geron just didn’t expect him to live.
Gordon kept him going. The Shadow could move ahead easily and keep an eye out for any danger. He also watched for secluded places that Matteo could stop and rest, as he needed fairly frequent breaks. Gordon kept him moving forward rather than crawling back when his cravings were at their worst. Even with his help, Matteo wasn’t sure he could make it. The supplies he’d managed to scavenge wouldn’t last forever and he’d been forced to abandon a lot of them when he’d given up on riding. His leg hurt too much no matter what he’d tried, and it left him too weak to control the horse. Nothing to do but stagger on as long as he could – he refused to give Geron the satisfaction of his death.
He tried paying attention to his surroundings. If he cold give Volaris a better idea of where he was, he knew the Loyalists would come. But he’d never learned the name of Cheng’s village. Hunan province was quite large, and the Prince just didn’t have the manpower to cover such a wide area without reference to some better landmarks. He paused to consider the low hills that peaked out over the horizon to the northwest. Everything seemed so far away. He’d even left behind the tree line of the shrine’s forest this morning. There was nothing here but gently rolling prairie, left wild save for the dirt road that amble westward towards civilization. In the distance he could make out a dust cloud, kicked up by riders headed his way. It would be hours before their paths crossed, and Gordon would warn him what to expect long before. It wasn’t even noon – the sun was still angling up towards its zenith.
He ploughed onwards limping carefully and leaning heavily on his staff. He’d wrapped his hands in cloth to protect his scars and prevent any new blisters. Eventually, a long shadow glided to a halt in front of him. Gordon’s outline was much more distinct in the daylight – tall and broad shouldered as he’d been in life, but filed in with inky blackness. His features were visible only in profiled silhouette.
“Four travelers, one horse, one covered donkey cart.” His voice retained that same dry quality of rustling paper from their first contact at the Spirit Festival, but his mentor’s capacity for expression was more limited. Everything was more basic than it had been even in the shrine. He’d warned this might happened. “Scavengers. Eta.”
They wouldn’t be armed, then, or at least not well, though they might try to rob him if they thought he had anything of value. They’d probably seen the smoke from the village when it burned and were coming to look for work or take what they could from the dead. He’d warn them away if he could.
Matteo was resting at the top of a small hill when they reached him. Gordon had tried to convince him to hide, that it would be better just to save himself and let these people meet their own fate. He couldn’t do it, and the Shadow hadn’t really invested too much effort. Giving the cult more victims was an unsettling choice on too many levels.
The rider reached him first – a small man with his feet wrapped in rags. He pulled up beside the Elf, sizing him up. Matteo wondered how he appeared. He was dirty from traveling, and his freshest wounds were still healing – slim scabs on his face and elsewhere that he hoped wouldn’t add to his scars. He lifted a hand in greeting. The rider nodded in suspicious acknowledgement, then turned his mount and headed back to the others. Matteo watched him go, noting his poor horsemanship. He’d probably found the horse, if he hadn’t stolen it, and would likely be killed for the offense of even daring to touch it if any Samurai caught him with the animal.
The completed party turned up a short time later. A different man rode the horse this time, reigning up awkwardly in front of Matteo. He was larger, and had a thick wooden club hanging from a ratty sash. Like the first rider, he was dressed in rags, though he had sandals. The cart pulled to a stop a few meters away, out of danger incase anything should happen. A woman sat on the driver’s bench, holding the reigns of a sorry looking black donkey. Two others – the first rider and a second woman – stood to either side of the animal, with the girl resting her hand on its flank. Four pairs of suspicious eyes regarded him where he sat, spread legs, staff laid across his lap for the moment.
“Greetings, traveler-san.” The leader’s tone was grudging, his respect merely convention expected of the lowest caste. Behind him, the girl near the donkey leaned over to whisper to her companions. The driver nodded.
Matteo smiled again in greeting and made to get up, slowly and ungracefully. The eta all tensed, but he hoped his message was clear – he was no threat.
They waited for him to speak. The trio in the rear shared uneasy glances when he remained silent. The rider tried another question, his voice filled full of bravado.
“Do you hail from the village ahead?”
He nodded.
Another pause, then, “Can you tell us what lies ahead?”
No, would that he could. Matteo shook his head, looking away from the group.
“No?”
“Can you speak?” The girl beside the donkey spoke up in a shy voice. The rider gave her a sharp look, but frowned as Matteo once again indicated the negative.
“Is the village safe?” She stepped forward, carefully avoiding the rider’s disapproving scowl. The other man – they all seemed quite young, now that he could get a better look at them – slipped around to stand beside her.
“Qiu!”
She hung her head, though she kept her eyes on Matteo. He shook his head for the third time, more emphatically now. He felt a little dizzy afterwards.
“Genming.” This time it was the woman in the cart who spoke, and she beckoned the rider over. With a warning glance at the Elf he dismounted, tossing the reigns in the vicinity of the smaller man. He was fairly tall for a Southerner, and might even have been quite large if malnutrition hadn’t eroded his broad frame into leanness. His dirty black hair was cut roughly so that it fell just above his shoulders in the back, and his eyes in the front. The other man stepped towards the startled horse, and Qiu followed. She was just as ragged, with her long hair bound into uneven tails with twisted rags. None of them wore real kimonos, but scuffed trousers that fell just below the knee and ratty tunics.
Matteo tried another smile as they approached. Qiu seemed curious if nervous, but her companion held her back, keeping the reigns loosely in his other hand as the horse backed away slightly, attuned to the tension of the scene.
“He could be dangerous, Qiu.”
“He doesn’t look dangerous, Minsheng. You won’t hurt us will you?”
He smiled again. “Un-uh.” Basic sounds he could still manage, and he hoped the understood. Qiu looked cautiously relieved, but looked to Minsheng for his reaction. The small southerner was shorter than Matteo, and his attention was divided. Seeing that the boy was about to get stepped on, the Elf stepped forward. He took the reigns higher up, controlling the horse’s head. He was no great rider himself, not these days, but he’d clearly been around more than these people. The animal snorted nervously and tried to throw back its neck. Lacking leverage, and finding itself in more capable hands, it settled down with another soft snort.
“Hey, what are you doing over there!” Genming glowered over at them, leaving off his private conversation.
“It’s alright,” Minsheng called back, grudgingly taking back the reigns the way he’d been shown, but the leader made his way over regardless.
“The village isn’t safe, Genming.”
“No?” He looked to Matteo, who just held up his mangled hands. The bandages wrapped around them were conveniently bloody from burst blisters and where some of the deeper cuts kept reopening.
“You’re a foreigner.”
Matteo nodded. If they were as deep into the Empire as he suspected, they might never have seen an Elf, or at least not be familiar enough to recognize one with his ears docked. The eta leader frowned.
“Did the villagers do this to you?”
He might have lied, but since he wasn’t sure what the group would do either way, he decided against betting on Genming’s social beliefs. Someone who abused a foreigner might not abuse an eta…. But they might. Matteo frowned as he shook his head, then drew his thumb across his throat hoping they’d get the point.
“They tried to kill you?”
“I think he means they are dead.” The cart driver had dismounted during this exchange and came to stand with the others. Her voice was quiet, but had an aura of composure that the others lacked. Matteo nodded in response.
“All of them?” Qiu looked to the other woman in dismay after she had the Elf’s answer: dead or as good as dead. “Well if there is no one alive, that means no one to pay us to wash corpses, Chiyo.”
“What happened? How did you escape?”
“How do you expect him to answer?” Qiu scowled at Genming. “He can’t speak.”
“That’s convenient.”
This was a waste of time. As soon as the cult had people to spare, they’d come looking for him and anyone who helped him. He needed to get some real distance away before Geron tried any other tricks to lure him back. It was a heavy thought – chilling – but there was a small voice at the back of his head more than wiling to be lured. Geron was the only one who could really silence the worst of his cravings. He knew it wasn’t just his resolve weakening. Just thinking about it now made him feel lightheaded. As for the eta, if he had no words to convince them, maybe he could show them.
He closed his eye and concentrated. He wasn’t quite used to his Shadow powers yet as they came from an outside source, unlike his own magic. He coalesced the shadow material between his hands, forming it into images. A miniature version of the ruined village appeared. For extra effect, he populated it with a number of Crimson Masks running madly through the streets, they dual blades dripping with blood.
“Oni!” Minsheng stepped back from the sight. The others seemed equally disturbed as he turned his head to take in their reactions. He hoped it was the image and not his manifestation of the illusion, but let it go just in case. He shouldn’t have let himself think about the Agony – it was breaking his concentration. He leaned against his staff, feeling a bit dizzy.
Genming took Chiyo by the arm, and the two repaired back towards the cart. With a sly glance after them and a quick sympathetic smile at Matteo, Qiu stole after them. Minsheng readjusted his position in relation to the horse and glanced after the others. He was quiet a moment while Matteo tried to fight off his cravings.
“Did you see the oni?”
Matteo snapped his eye open, startled by the quiet youth’s question. He nodded.
“Are they the ones who hurt you?”
He couldn’t explain. The Masks weren’t really oni the way Minsheng understood. It was complicated to put into hand gestures, and he didn’t feel up to the attempt. He shrugged weakly. Maybe Gordon had been right. At the least, he shouldn’t have waited for them to catch up to him. He wasn’t feeling like continuing right now, and certainly wasn’t far enough away. Only two days travel – practically nothing.
“Are you well?”
Of course he wasn’t. he was going to die out here, sooner rather than later, and with no access to the one thing that cold give him any peace! Matteo looked back the way he’d come, knowing that it didn’t matter what he decided. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. Despite the sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, he felt cold, and shivered.
“Chiyo!” Minsheng stepped back. “I think he is sick…”
“If sir is not offended by my unclean touch, I am a healer.” Where had she come from? Snuck up on his blind side? He nodded. He could use a healer, and didn’t care too much where she came from at this point. If he could only concentrate for a moment, he could remember the song, and the trick Gordon had taught him. Chiyo was whispering her own magic, and he barely felt her touch when the cool sensation of a healing spell washed over him. His fresh wounds closed over, though he felt the now-familiar tightness in his chest, and coughed. The spell was still a relief, and once he could breathe again, he did feel somewhat stronger. She cast another spell, and though he couldn’t feel any effects, she seemed satisfied. “You aren’t going to die today. Your condition isn’t catching?”
He shook his head. Of course they were worried about themselves. They probably had a hard enough time gaining admittance to towns and villages as it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a look that passed between Chiyo and Genming. The priestess turned back to him, a calm smile on her lips. “Then you should travel with us.”
