Koe Tidraq (discant) wrote in adusta, @ 2010-02-21 10:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | koe tidraq, oaths, vedette uthral |
words of rage (vedette)
There were details that you noticed about a place in one situation that you would not notice in others. Such as the number of windows. There were fifteen windows, at last count, from the inside and the outside. Not that they would need windows - but at the same time, Koe did not want to think that it would come to that. What he'd told Iluq was the truth. He did not trust Horon, but he did believe that Horon was telling the truth when he said he would not betray their secret. Whether or not it counted as a betrayal if he told this person, or that one, was a question for someone more intelligent by far than Koe. These were distinctions that it was important to make - because just as there was a difference between trust and believe someone was being honest, there was a difference between perhaps arguing with Horon and being forced to fight him to the death.
Obviously, Koe did not want to pursue the second option.
Other things. A single candle that burned brighter than the rest, arranged just so in the center of the table, decoration and earnest light in the same instant. Koe thought he would have done something else with the possibly too-bright candle, while sunlight was available just outside, but Mirram had drawn all of the heavy curtains closed, and sat brooding in one corner of the room. Every so often, glistening eyes would stare wrath at Horon's immovable dirty form. They would shift to pity, all of which was centered on Koe and Iluq, before Mirram disappeared inside of herself once more. Horon did not seem to notice. His armor would rattle every so often, as he worked to clean and polish his sword while staring at the curtains. Almost as if he was imagining what lay beyond them. Some distant world, perhaps, with times less dire than these. Someplace where an old knight could retire instead of continuing to fight.
When it became clear that Horon was not going to begin without encouragement Koe cleared his throat. The old knight gave a start, and turned finally, still with a cloth in one hand and sword in the other. And promptly froze again. Koe only watched with narrowed eyes, seeking an instant in which Horon could prove his worth, in which all of this would be demonstrated as some kind of joke, perhaps. But there were people who had died. Horon had tried and failed to prevent it. Only the interference of Koe and Iluq had saved his life. Something else was going on here. Not Horon and his mysterious powers, or the reason Mirram hated him, or the reason that warlock came. Koe knew they were missing something. Something important. Horon was not going to tell them what that something was because it wasn't in his nature. Or perhaps he honestly did not know. But he would remain silent on that subject. This was his way of saying so.
Koe did not like it.
"I suppose I should start at the beginning," Horon said lamely.
"Start," Koe suggested mildly. "With ... how you survived that fall."
Horon's glance at Mirram was obviously unplanned. "I was only trained for it."
"Horon," and Koe leaned forward. "I came here for answers. Because... because I want to know why this village is under siege. If you cannot provide them-"
"I can," the knight interjected.
"Then tell me how an ancient fellow such as yourself survived that fall."
Horon's eyes widened. He seemed genuinely taken aback by the comment. Only when his eyes focused, and he nodded to himself - causing his proud whiskers to sway - did the old man finally seem to realize that Koe had meant no offense by the comment. Yet instead of answering immediately Horon began to move. The hiss of leather passing through eyes of brass came sudden to the room; with each sudden sound a piece of his armor fell away and to the ground, with a heavy clank. Horon's armor apparently bore more intricate pieces than Koe could have realized. But soon the old man's arms were free of the plate, and they revealed two things. One, Horon had exceptional fitness for a man of his age. Two, there were bands of leather circling his biceps and forearms. Each band was buckled tight. And each band secure a shining, single-color rock to his skin. Or what looked like rock, at first - but it was not.
Dragon scales.
"How did you do this?" Koe stood out of his chair; his stomach twisted with revulsion. "You, a dragonslayer?"
"Yes," Horon's face grew tight. "And no. I took no life against that life's will. We follow the same god, Master Dragon. If you sit I will explain."
Mirram's face changed quite suddenly then. You could see it in her eyes - a gleam, a glimmer, of hope. Obviously Horon did not know the meaning of discretion. And now there were two who knew his secret, a secret he worked his whole life to keep. From the time Onainat had been a small child he'd endlessly drilled the message into her, a message which his free-spirited and odd-minded daughter did not seem to accept with the same grace as her father. That was because she had not seen her grandmother and namesake dragged away in chains, dragged away in violence, to die for the whims of a soulless creature. Koe could remember what the pleasure of death tasted like in his throat, knowing he had bitten his mother's killer in half. Knowing the hot blood which made him want to retch was the blood of revenge, the blood of just cause, the blood of sweet disease. He had retched then. And Rand had burned everything Koe had missed.
Would his daughter need to avenge him?
The glance he gave Iluq was uneasy, but Koe did find his seat. Albeit much more ready to sing Horon to his death than he'd been a moment ago.