Chattering comments and urgent messages began to flitter through Skylar's consciousness from the stream, but he couldn't focus on them; I must come into the firelight. Every contrary thought, every resistant impulse were all squelched as soon as they formed as a relentless beat thrummed through his mind. I must come into the firelight. I must come into the firelight.
Skylar Kass took one step forward.
Then, abruptly, someone else began screaming from somewhere further into the darkness ahead; not just one person, but several, yelling urgent commands of some kind he couldn't listen to, couldn't register. The wolf-creature's lifeless eyes flicked away for a split second.
In that fleeting moment, Skylar's mind became partly his own again; the overwhelming compulsion to Come Into The Firelight still drove him, but his other thoughts were abruptly free for a tiny fraction of an instant. Desperately, he scanned the comments for anything that might help him.
Jackpot. Skylar lowered his eyes to his feet and bolted into, and through, the firelight with a burst of speed; he felt the compulsion to Come Into The Firelight dissolve within his mind. With his eyes focused on the ground, he was only aware of his surroundings auditorily; he heard shouts of alarm from the soldiers, cheers of encouragement from the unseen people who had been shouting earlier, and a low growl of displeasure from where he'd last seen the robed wolf-thing. "Catch him, fools," he heard the thing command the soldiers as he tore past them all at an angle and headed for the unseen group who had been encouraging.
Abruptly, he fetched up against a hard iron cage; he had only the barest instant of warning before plowing into it headlong with his gaze fixed on his feet, but it was just enough. With a grunt of effort, he adjusted his momentum to bounce off the cage instead of careening headlong into it. Out of habit, he looked up.
The cage was full of people -- mostly humans, but a few Alvatri and Loathborn too -- clamoring for him to run, escape. That thing must have captured them. A large, crude-looking padlock on the hasp of the cage captured his attention right away; quickly, he snapped a hand into his coat pocket and snatched out his hardiest lockpick. I only have enough time to make one attempt, but if it works, the payoff will be great.
With focused intensity, he jammed the lockpick into the lock's cavernous keyhole and twisted while yanking backwards, hard; the two crude tumblers inside gave way oblingingly, and the lock clacked open. Skylar grabbed it and tore it free, swinging the cage door wide. "Run, you guys!" he panted before taking off into the darkness.
Shouts of dismay, screams of rage and pain, and other various noises of a disruptive nature followed him as he fled; they faded out after a few moments, but Skylar had bigger problems: one of the prisoners was following him. "What are you doing?" he hissed over his shoulder at the unseen figure. "Split up! It'll be harder for them to catch us!"
"Don't be stupid," a familiar voice growled from behind him. "Strength in numbers, buddy."
Skylar wheeled to a halt, his arms windmilling as he spun around. "What the... Levan?!"
The Loathborn squinted at him suspiciously; he was clearly a good deal younger, with only a thick five-o-clock shadow in places that would later be tangles of beard and hair. "How'd you know my name?" he barked, jaw jutting out in defiance.
Skylar's mind raced. "Uh, Hardcastle told me about you." Mentally, he crossed his fingers. Looks like more evidence that the Kalativa really does transport me in time, but nothing definite yet. Also, here's hoping that Hardcastle is far enough back in Levan's past that he's met him already. But the gamble appeared to have paid off; the Loathborn scowled, but nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Enough talk, though -- keep movin'!"
The two of them scrambled through the darkness and trees; the tumult faded behind them after a while, and Levan eventually slowed to a stop with puffs of strained breath. "Need a break," he muttered as Skylar collapsed gratefully. "Hopefully we've got enough of a lead."
"Yeah," gasped Skylar; he lay there, sucking in air pitifully, for nearly a minute before rolling onto his side and staring up at the star-speckled sky in confusion. What can I ask? How much do I say? If this is really the past, why didn't Levan recognize me in the future? A sudden idea came to him. If that wolf-thing could use Weir to hypnotize me, I might be able to do the same to him. Risky, but... we'll save that for later. "What was that thing?" he gasped to the Loathborn, desperate for information.
Levan grunted. "A Ravitu, I think. I've only heard stories, but I can't think of what else it could be." Wearily, the young man forced himself onto his knees. "Strong, fast, undead, drinks blood. Mind control of some kind, I guess."
Skylar's mind ticked over, cataloguing all the information. "Makes sense. You think it'll chase us?"
"For sure," Levan groaned, staggering to his feet. "Way faster than the soldiers. Probably almost caught up already."
"Drotz." Skylar scanned the area; the weak illumination from the crescent moon was poor, but the trees had thinned enough that he could see at least a little of the landscape. Need something heavy... He pointed at a distant clumped shape a little ways away, where the cover was a little lighter. "I think I have an idea. Let's head for that." Levan nodded with surprising easiness -- guess he becomes a stubborn frosak as he gets older -- and the two of them rose painfully to their feet and began to move.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
As they drew nearer, Skylar began to hear sounds in the woods behind them; faint for now, but definitely something large moving through underbrush with great speed. We have a minute; two at most. As they arrived at the shape he'd seen, he clenched his fist in satisfaction; a great statue of a demonic figure, torn and battered by something he couldn't identify, leaned precariously from atop a great stone plinth amid a jumble of forgotten gravestones. "Get up behind that thing. When I shout 'Now,' push it over."
The Loathborn squinted up at it. "You really think that'll work? This thing is fast. It can probably dodge it easy."
Skylar shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But it's better than waiting for it to catch us while we're unarmed." Moving to the base of the statue, he snatched up a stick. "Look, I know you don't like doing this, but... can you make a light from this?"
Levan growled, but reluctantly murmured a few words into his cupped palms; a fat spark, looking like a beacon in the night, leapt forth and set the tip of the stick ablaze. "Perfect. Thanks." With great care, Skylar jammed the stick into the ground and stood directly between it and the plinth; the smoke and the heat irritated his face and eyes, but he needed to be close to it for this to work. "Hey, Ravitu!" He shouted; Levan, halfway up the plinth, staggered and nearly fell off in surprise. "Come and get me!"
"You're crazy," whispered the Loathborn, but Skylar heard more than saw him disappear behind the great stone figure. Skylar grinned madly. Oh buddy, you have no idea.
Barely a few seconds later, the robed figure loped into the clearing on all fours; Skylar carefully affixed his gaze towards the creature's feet. "Unusual indeed," the beast purred, standing up to tower fearsomely above him. "You are either very brave, very foolish, or very treacherous."
"I like that description," Skylar agreed. "But real quick; what's your deal? Why try to capture all those people?"
"Inquisitive food," the monster sniffed humorously. "For sustenance, of course. We require blood to survive; now that we need no longer fear the daylight, infrastructure must be assembled. Lord Nightstar's designs require an initial population; crude, but empires are not built by the hesitant." He stretched out a welcoming claw that Skylar could only half-see in the glare and the gloom. "But you need not be a slave. Join us, and serve in a privileged position; once we have enough citizens, blood will be collected as taxes, not from sacrifices. Even the fodder will benefit."
Hey, that's a surprisingly reasonable plan. Skylar blinked. Could I set myself up here for a while before returning? That's tempting as heck. Ooh, 'heck' is also allowed. "Weird pitch," he responded dismissively. "Slavery now, and maybe taxation later? And requires trusting the guy who tried to mind-control me as buy-in?" He shook his head, smirking. Can't risk it. All the me's I've seen so far have been the same age as me, so hiding out in the past for longer than short periods is probably out. "I've got a counter-offer; how about you go vark yourself?"
The Ravitu snarled and leapt forward; "Now!" Skylar shouted as he snatched the torch from the ground and dove backwards. As he did so, he raised a hand towards the onrushing fangs and claws and snapped out "Anhardt!"
If the thing had had any limbs on the ground, he doubted it would have worked; but he'd carefully chosen his setup and timing to goad the thing into a full-body leap, with the light from the torch blinding the Ravitu to the statue hidden behind him in his artfully-projected shadow. To his immense satisfaction, it worked perfectly; the ravening beast froze in midair, eyes widening in disbelief for a fraction of a second before the great statue smote it to earth. The impact was thunderous; Skylar would have been blasted off his feet if he hadn't already been flying backwards on purpose. Guess people, or at least living creatures, do count as objects for the purposes of Alzasch. Good to know.
Skylar crashed into the ground, hurtling away, and did his best to roll out of it; his shoulder was smashed a little by a passing rock, but otherwise he felt he'd come out of it okay. Bearing the flaming stick, he approached the body as Levan clambered down from the plinth and moved to his side; he was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that the Ravitu was still alive. It gagged, spitting out a thick black ichor, but whatever threats or imprecations it was trying to form couldn't make it past its crushed throat and ribcage. "So," he commented to Levan offhandedly, "these things require anything special to kill?"
The Loathborn stared down at the trapped figure, glowing red eyes cold. "No."
Skylar nodded, then stepped forward and almost gently touched the flaming end of the torch to the creature's writhing, squirming face. "Good."
There were no screams; you need breath and functional larynx to scream. But if they'd been possible, they would have been nightmarish.
As the pyre blazed behind him, Skylar turned to Levan. "We need to get out of here -- they'll come to investigate this. Best we split up, for real this time; it'll be harder for them to catch us."
Levan hesitated; Skylar could see that he was apprehensive about being on his own. "Not sure where to go," he commented reluctantly after a few moments.
Skylar clapped him on the shoulder with as much bravado as he could muster. "Find Hardcastle. There's a place you can both go." Best to keep the details fuzzy. The Loathborn set his jaw, but nodded. "Oh, and one more thing."
Skylar faced the young man squarely and met his ruby gaze; it was surprisingly difficult. In his mind, he bent his concentration to a tightly-packed series of images; Levan breaking the lock alone, Levan escaping alone, Levan defeating the Ravitu alone, and Levan going forth alone. Forget me, he cast into Levan's mind before spinning him roughly around; the Loathborn, caught off guard, flailed and fell to the ground facing the other way as Skylar stepped silently backwards into the shadows and took cover behind a tombstone.
For a long moment, he held his breath; If this doesn't work, he'll beat my grak. And he has a good chance of seeing me with that red night-sight of his. But after a moment, Levan groaned and staggered to his feet; without a backwards glance, he set off into the night with only slight reluctance. As Skylar watched him go, he saw something change in the young man; a hard core of self-reliance took form with each step, and he could practically hear the self-justifying thoughts rationalizing his illusion across the widening gulf between them. That's right. There was no one else here. I did this myself. I can only depend on myself.
Silently, Skylar watched him go. For long minutes after the Loathborn had faded from his sight, he continued to stare at the empty patch of darkness where the disappearing figure had been; wrestling with himself. Nothing I could have done. Gotta maintain the timeline if that skek is even real. This'll help him in the future. Best thing for everyone.
Eventually, reality intruded; sinking to his knees, Skylar took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Right. What else did I miss in the stream?
Skylar blinked, then pursed his lips. Actually, really good questions. And now that I'm on my own for a bit, maybe I can start trying to find some answers.
He knelt there for a while, pondering and trying to let the adrenaline make its way out of his system; when his legs could support him again, Skylar Kass shakily pulled himself to his feet and stared grimly off into the lonely blackness ahead. Okay, survived all that corfsmot. What next?
WHERE TO, CHAT?
