Escaping Custom
late fall, 426 LC
::Don't go to him.::
Sarvatha stumbled with a soft cry of agony, one hand clutching at his head while the other clutched at the wall in an attempt to keep him upright.
::He intends to destroy you. Don't go to him.::
The words lanced through his mind, sending agony dancing across his nerves. He crumpled to the stone floor under the onslaught, both hands gripping his head against the headache pounding at his temples. The metal of his gauntlets made a cold counterpoint to the fire of the headache; the hard edges dug into his skin and skull, small pinpricks of pain playing a different sort of counterpoint.
"Softly, please," Sarvatha gasped out. "Softly. Who wants to kill me?"
::Not kill, destroy.:: The voice obediently modulated itself down. ::The ancient one desires your body. He will destroy you to gain it.::
Sarvatha forced his breaths to be deep and even. If what Umbra was saying was true, he needed to collect himself, and soon. With that in mind, he pulled himself back to his feet, mailed fingers digging into the chinks between building stones. There, he paused, swaying gently as he gathered his training about himself like a cloak.
::It is the inviolate path. He has been our ruler for centuries.::
"That's wonderful," Sarvatha muttered. His head still protested the slightest of motions, but he squinted his eyes and fixated on a point at the far end of the hallway. "Why warn me, then?"
::We've warned all Knights that have been called to him. None have believed us.::
"Or maybe you blew their brains out with your warning." He knew Umbra would take no offense, and the sniping took his mind off the length of hallway he had yet to traverse. And beyond that, more hallways, more passages, until he reached the stables, found his mare, and took off.
Umbra's warning permitted no chance to stop for supplies at the pace he was currently setting, and he mourned, briefly, the loss of his full kit, before discarding those thoughts as unworthy.
He felt Umbra's hesitance as a short 'dead' space in his mind before the overmind spoke, ::I have hurt you.::
Sarvatha snorted. "'I' now, is it?"
::This will not do. There is much to do, if you are to escape.::
A dam slammed closed in his mind, blocking the pain from his consciousness. It was an unlooked for boon, granted only because pain currently served Umbra no purpose, and would be paid for in spades later.
Wasting no more time, Sarvatha pushed himself away from the wall he had been clutching and hurried on, calculating his path. His darting gaze fixed on the silver and black banner hanging over the intersection, noting that the figure of Avisas was standing with sword-point planted - he hadn't made it as far from the Knight Quarters as he had thought. If he pushed himself, he could swing by his room and snatch his ready-pack in the timeframe Umbra was worriedly broadcasting.
Nodding once to himself, Sarvatha picked up the pace, nearly running through the maze of hallways. His footsteps echoed through the stone corridors as he settled into a lope, the sound accompanied by the steady clank of his armor.
People turned in surprise as he passed, their eyes wide and expressions concerned. An entire class of Pages backed against the walls, awe writ large across their faces, combined with no little fear at what he represented. A high ranking Knight running through the halls of the Mother Temple itself. To them, it must seem as if Death raced through the halls for all to see.
He swore he could hear the rumors already spreading.
Sarvatha skidded to a halt at his doorway, cursing as his gauntlet-clad hand fumbled the latch. Instead of trying a second time, he ripped his gauntlet off and shoved the latch up with a trembling hand, shouldering the door open in the same movement. He fumbled the gauntlet back on as he stepped into the room.
Where was it, where was it... ah! There! His eyes scanned the cluttered room, skipping over scattered clothes, stacks of books, and bits of rough leatherwork, finally landing on the ready-pack where it lay haphazardly in a corner. Sarvatha strode the few steps to the pack, stepping over no few piles of discarded clothes and abandoned attempts at leatherwork, slung it over his shoulder, then moved to leave.
"Where ya headin', Vath?" drawled Maleyn from where he slouched against the doorway, barring the way. A dagger danced through the air and across his bare hands, the careless motions belying the danger of naked steel. A smirk pulled at the corners of his pale lips, but the expression didn't reach his cold, ice green eyes.
Sarvatha fixed a smile on his face. "Master Alarad has sent me to the west on my Final Proving."
Maleyn arched a delicate eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "So yer runnin' through th' Temple, grabbin' only yer ready-pack an' nothing else. That excited 'bout yer Final Proving, Vath?"
Sarvatha stiffened, his hands clenching at his sides. "I was instructed to leave with all haste, taking only what was necessary."
::Yes! And you waste time with this Shadow Follower!:: Umbra's voice clawed at his mind. ::Leave him! He stalls you for the ancient one!::
Sarvatha felt his smile turn brittle as ice at Umbra's words. Maleyn was working for the Master?
"Surely ya got time fer a last pint between friends, neh?" asked Maleyn. "I got a special brew that I been savin' fer just such an occasion."
"Poisoned, I suspect," Sarvatha forced out between clenched teeth. He shifted his stance, trying to find a stable position amidst the detritus that lay scattered about his room.
"So little trust fer a brother Knight!" Maleyn cried, pressing a pale hand against his black tunic, the picture of wounded honor.
Sarvatha wasted no more breath, but shifted his stance once more and swept his foot out, sending a pile of leather sailing through the air. He heard Maleyn's annoyed snarl, categorized it, ignored it, chose instead to move forward with blades unsheathed, heard Maleyn's dagger clatter off his shoulder armor and to the floor, counted the enemy weaponless, followed through, felt the shock of his blades hitting flesh, holding, then sliding slowly into the body before him. Felt, in return, the parting of his own flesh, as Maleyn's second dagger slid between plates and sought out his body at the base of his ribcage.
(Fool! The man always carries a full compliment! a part of his mind fluttered, frantic, terrified. He acknowledged it, categorized it, put it away. He'd panic later.)
The pain, when it came, was mercifully brief. Umbra's block held true against this as well, it seemed. Maleyn stared up at him in shock, blood trickling from his pale lips, staining his fair skin sunset red, soaking invisibly into black cloth. Sarvatha took a step back, jerking his blades free with all his strength, wincing as he felt them grate against bone on their way out. As Maleyn slid slowly to the floor, Sarvatha kicked a random piece of clothing up from the floor and into reach, to clean his blades with before sheathing them.
(Maleyn's blood is bubbling out of the wounds. the little, frantic part noted. He slammed the door on it. Now was not the time.)
He gripped the hilt of Maleyn's dagger, prayed it had hit nothing vital, and pulled it out as carefully as he could. Another flash of pain that was quickly extinguished, accompanied by a small trickle of blood barely visible against his dark grey and black armor. He made to toss the dagger aside, hesitated, slipped it through the belt his twin swords hung from.
(He's dead. whispered the little, scared part of his mind. He clung to his training. To break down was to die as well.)
Sarvatha bolted, his feet carrying him down remembered paths towards the stables. There was no more pretense, no more loping. He'd lost time with that pointless fight, and Umbra's worry swirled with his suppressed terror-reaction to send him hurtling down the hallways, an armored juggernaut.
He shoved people aside, when they didn't move swiftly enough, carving his own path through the orderly swirl of Temple life. This time, he didn't need to imagine the whispers. This time, they were shouts, and they were directed at him, at everyone, ordering him to stop, to stop him, to hold him until his insanity passed. Hands reached towards him, a forest of limbs he refused to acknowledge, even as they tore at his armor, trying to make him stop.
The courtyard, when he reached it, was like a breath of freedom after the closeness of the hallways. The orders hadn't, quite, reached the gate guards yet - they looked puzzled, confused, gazing inwards at the roiling hive that had replaced the Temple's calm.
It was the work of a moment to race across the courtyard and into the stables: past a class of Squires practicing sword-work, too terrified of their instructor to do more than glance his way; past the head hostler, lazily resting against the stable wall, eating his noon-day meal; past the stable-boys, idly sweeping the empty stalls clean.
The stable smelled safe, horse and straw and hay, and the slightest tang of feed, but he had no time to appreciate it. Sarvatha snatched Emberwind's saddle and blanket down from the wall, along with her hackamore, and quickly made his way to her stall. She whickered softly, then pushed her nose into his chest and down his sides, snuffling for the treats he usually carried.
"Later, love," Sarvatha promised, as he tossed her blanket and saddle over her back. His gauntlets landed on the ground, tossed aside as useless in the coming moments.
Emberwind stood calmly, though she eyed him with curiosity as he fumbled through the buckles and straps that made up her equipage, his normal ease lost to haste. She stamped a hoof and shook herself, once, as he stepped back, then cast a disgusted look over her shoulder at him as the saddle shifted.
"H-heh. Right. Do it right, eh girl?" Sarvatha gave a nervous laugh then promptly stripped the saddle off and started over. This time, he recited the steps to himself, hands steadying at the reminder. "Hope you're good for a run, love."
::I would advise you to hurry.:: Umbra's voice was dry.
"Yeah, hush." Sarvatha muttered, as he tightened the last strap, moved to Emberwind's head and slipped the hackamore over her muzzle. This time, when she shook, the saddle remained in place, and she consented to following him out of the stall after he had retrieved his gauntlets.
She followed him like a puppy, through the stable and out the door into the sunlight, where she stood calmly as he hauled himself into the saddle. Around him, the courtyard was beginning to hum with the voices of people asking each other what was going on. Not all the Temple was turned against him, it seemed.
"Shoulda ditched the armor," Sarvatha grumbled as he settled himself and gave Emberwind a nudge to start moving. The gate was still open, though one of the guards was missing, probably off finding out what was happening.
"No one expects trouble here," he continued, eyeing the main doors of the Temple. "It's like expecting the Father Temple to give us the time of day."
Emberwind's ears flicked back towards him, and she snorted as if in agreement.
He smiled faintly, then nudged her into a trot, heading towards the main gate.
"Maleyn's dead!" The shout chased him down, gaining power as more and more people caught and repeated the words. "Maleyn's dead! Close the gates!"
Sarvatha gulped, then hunched close to Emberwind's back.
"Time to go, love." He said, as he signaled her to gallop, dropping all pretense at calm. Her powerful muscles gathered under him, her will given free reign by his signals, and she sprang into gleeful action. There was nothing Emberwind enjoyed more than a full gallop.
They sailed through the gate before the guards had a chance to do more than start towards the controls. The wind whipped the cries of the Temple dwellers from his ears, as Emberwind carried him down the road, away from his life.
::Well. That went well, didn't it?::
Sarvatha clung to the saddle, having long ago given up the pretense of guiding Emberwind through the dense forest they now traversed. She picked her own way through thickets and around trees, stretching her legs into a quick trot whenever they came to a clearing, following streams and rivers whenever she could.
There was little sound in the forest but for the steady thump-thump of Emberwind's hooves on the ground, their passage having scared most creatures away. In the distance, a hawk cried warning, and a flock of song-birds began to shriek their anger, the harsh notes filling the forest with racket.
Emberwind shied suddenly, slinking around a tree and speeding her passage from a cautious walk to a headlong run. An arrow thudded into a trunk at head level, even as Emberwind skidded around another tree. Sarvatha cursed and crouched close to her body, branches whisking past inches above his body. Behind him, his pursuers broke rank, their hoof beats ringing out through the forest as they began their own, slightly more cautious, charge.
A shiver crawled down his back, as the wind and branches plucked at his skin and clothes, reminding him sharply of his lack of armor. There was nothing between him and the sharp tip of an arrow but Emberwind's skill and his own luck.
It had seemed like a smart decision at the time, as he watched the ripples fading away, to throw his armor into the Drayana River at the boundary of Temple lands. It was a weight neither he nor Emberwind could afford to carry, useless as it was in the forests he would be running through, so it had to go.
Now he wished he'd kept some of it, at least.
::Doesn't look like they want to talk.::
"Noticed." Sarvatha growled, as he glanced behind him. Four knights to the rear, who knew how many to either side...
He bit his lip in thought, glancing about. At this pace, he felt like a herd-animal, being driven to his death. Time to remind the fools why he was Umbra-class, and few others were.
He nudged Emberwind with his left foot, and she obligingly shifted her path to the left, straight towards a large pine, heavy with branches. The shadows about its base were thick and inky black, perfect for what he had planned.
::Why not just kill them?:: Umbra sounded confused. ::That solves the problem neatly.::
Sarvatha just grunted, ignoring Umbra in favor of concentration. The shadows writhed, tendrils reaching towards them, to coil cold fingers about their bodies, drawing them closer, drawing them into the unnatural blackness that now filled the space under the pine. Emberwind, well trained mount that she was, shuddered at the shadows' touch, but kept running.
He clung tightly to her saddle, as the shadows engulfed both of them, plunging them into an empty, dark realm where even Emberwind's hoof beats faded within seconds. Sensing the lack of obstacles, she promptly stretched herself into a gallop, hooves striking phantom sparks against the nothingness, the sparks turning her black hooves an eerie silver-white.
Tireless, she carried him through the Shadow Realm, as the glow slowly crept up her body, clinging to her legs, shimmering in her breath, lighting her up eyes. It clung to him as well, though less thoroughly -- where her legs shown brilliant chestnut, his only glimmered a soft silvery-black, where her breath shone like a cloud of light, his only glittered faintly, like sunlight filtering through fog, where her eyes glowed, his own flickered.
With effort, he knocked the clinging glow away from her with his mind, til they trailed sparks like Neisu of legend, seeding the heavens with stars. They needed to get as far away as possible, far enough that no one could follow his trail through the Shadow Realm to its end, which meant leaving a trail that a child could follow. The Master was the only one who could match him in endurance, but if the Master was on their trail, even entering the Realm would have been deadly. He had, however, sensed nothing of the aged man. Old, brittle bones weren't capable of a wild ride through the forests and into the Shadow Realm.
Sarvatha's fingers fumbled with the saddle-straps, as he tied himself crudely in place by feel. Old, brittle bones might not be capable of this at all, but young, sturdy bones weren't exactly up to this much punishment either. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, every spark he swept from their bodies drained another fraction of his energy, and even Emberwind was beginning to flag, her gait not as smooth, her breaths coming heavy and hard.
Ahead, light appeared like a will-o-wisp, growing brighter as they approached. It was like staring through a frosted window, the forms indistinct and soft, colors washed out. Emberwind, seeing their destination, stretched her body, putting on another, final burst of speed.
The sparks clinging to them burst into a sharp brilliance as she gathered herself and leaped, sending them crashing through the window and into another forest, shards of light shimmering through the air around them, falling like a rain of glass. The sharp-edged fragments tinkled like wind chimes as they hit the ground and each other, before melting into harsh pools of light that wisped away as glittering smoke.
Emberwind stood at the edge of the clearing, head down, sides heaving. He fumbled the ties undone and pulled himself from the saddle, swaying as his feet hit the ground and his legs almost gave way. Tiredly, he patted her neck and started off in a random direction, keeping his pace slow for his sake as much as hers.
Together, they crunched through the leaf-litter, barely aware of their surroundings, leaning on each other in support. Sarvatha knew they needed to keep moving, at least long enough to get away from the clearing, but exhaustion dragged at his feet. She, however, was having little of it. As soon as they left the clearing, she started picking her own path through the skeletal trees.
Sarvatha tripped over a hidden root and landed hard on hands and knees. For a long moment he simply stared at his hands, buried in red and gold leaves. Broadleaves, his tired mind supplied. Found in the mid-regions of Laruen and her territories, over three thousand miles from the Mother Temple in her northern fastness.
Hard, strong teeth gripped his shoulder and tugged, the pressure painful even through the quilted padding that he had worn beneath his armor and not discarded. He blinked, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. A second tug came, sharper and more insistent, and this time he came up with it, rising unsteadily to his feet. Emberwind sidled up next to him, presenting the saddle, then stamped a hoof impatiently when he didn't immediately mount.
::She's right, you know,:: Umbra prodded him. ::She's tired, but you're about to drop.::
Sarvatha shook his head, "Don't wanna hurt her. Can walk jus' fine."
When he tried to take a step away from her, she eeled around him, presenting him with the saddle once more.
::Need I remind you? She was bred and conditioned to take a run like that. You weren't. Her training also involved taking care of her foolish rider, after that rider has nearly burned himself out pulling off a reckless stunt like what you just did.:: Umbra's voice was caustic. ::So I suggest, child, that you put yourself in her care, before you die of your foolishness.::
"Right. Tag-teamed by voice in m'head an' a horse." Sarvatha hooked a foot in the stirrup and wearily hauled himself back onto Emberwind's back. "What a man I make."
He fumbled the ties and clips back on, effectively tying himself to the saddle so long as Emberwind didn't do any fancy footwork. As soon as she was assured of his seat, she took off again at a gentle walk, ambling through the forest on a haphazard path.
Sarvatha drifted in and out of consciousness. Once, when his stomach was no longer to be denied, he dug out a couple pieces of jerky and gnawed on the tough meat, washing it down with swigs of lukewarm water from his water skin. Stomach quieted, if not quite satisfied, he drifted back off, lulled by the gentle sway of Emberwind's amble.
It was night when he awoke again, jerked out of sleep by Emberwind's stillness. He blinked wearily, staring at the small clearing she had decided upon. A stream ran to one side, adding its soft music to the whisper of breeze that tossed fallen leaves around gently and swished limbs together. Figuring that one place was as good as another at this point, Sarvatha tugged at the ties, eventually undoing enough of them to wriggle free of the saddle.
Working on autopilot, he freed Emberwind of her saddle and hackamore and gave her a brief rubdown with the small horse-brush in his ready-pack. He didn't even bother gathering wood or unstrapping his weapons, simply kicked himself a nest in the leaves and collapsed, curling up against the chill of the night. He was asleep instantly.