Skandra Tyullis (roll_the_bones) wrote in adusta, @ 2010-08-25 11:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | aeotha easaahae, singularity, skandra tyullis |
ex nihilo nihil fit (aeotha)
One knee in the dirt, one raised near his stomach, Skandra took a moment to gaze across the untainted grass which surrounded them. Tall enough - because no one had any reason to cut it, out here - that wind would lay it flat. Which the wind was doing, at this very instant. Tugging on his hat at the same time. Stirring his coat around him. There were clouds in the sky, as smooth as the gray stones in the river they'd crossed to arrive here, but the threat of rain was just that. He could not imagine milder weather. And if he weren't focused on the black sphere which rested ominously in the valley below he might have been content to take a nap. Back to a tree, whiskey in his belly, and he could have slept for a thousand years.
There was no whiskey to be had.
This close to the edge of a precipitous drop, Skandra couldn't help but feel that lightness in his stomach, telling him that his life would be in danger if he took the plunge. It was a good two hundred feet below them. Far enough away that nothing revealed itself save the inexorable blackness of the thing. A trick for the eye, it seemed - there was nothing occupying the space; it was more an absence of light, wasn't it? Skandra didn't know. Someone had told him there was a village down there. You couldn't tell - the black sphere occupied the same spot that the village was supposed to, and no way to peer inside and see what was happening. That was the reason they were here, wasn't it? One of those smooth river stones came out of his pocket. With a snap of his wrist, he hurled the stone down.
And lost track of it long before it struck that black sphere. If it even did. How was he supposed to know?
"I'd be careful with that," Shantar's voice was loud and strong at his side. "You never know what might spring out at you."
They were dressed in near-identical gear. Shantar's coat was shorter - it only reached his waist - and the collar of the stiff brown wool was popped, shrouding the sides of his face in something the old man called mystery. Where Skandra's hat had a stiff brim, Shantar's was loose and flopping about in the wind. Yet they both carried the same brown leather bag; the strap snaked over a shoulder and across the chest. Skandra had been trying to teach the old man how to use knives. Instead, Shantar carried that heavy grean spear with its double-edged blade, a foot long and balanced by a weighted ball on the opposite end. Other than that, they might as well have been twins. Skandra hoped he wasn't as ugly as Shantar when it came time to grow old. Then again, ugly as he was, the old man seemed to have more luck with women than Skandra ever would.
That son of a bitch.
"She was very interested in securing your help," Shantar went on when Skandra didn't reply.
"Tch," was the younger Immortal's answer.
There she'd been, barging into the common room as if she owned the place and calling out to him. Pulling the hat low hadn't helped. And once she'd insisted that she knew him, the rest of the men at the table had realized he was not Cully and he was not there to try and recruit men for a wagon heist. Three or four of them had taken a knife before it was done. Skandra had still collected the bounty - but that wasn't the point. He didn't barge into her temple and scold her for pretending to know him while she was busy instructing nubile young priestesses on the finer points of love. It was all about respecting somebody's work. Of course, with the work settled, he was free to follow after her to this place. Not that he knew precisely where this place was, really. At the edge of one map or another. Probably not a place that anyone thought of as important until this black sphere had appeared out of nowhere.
Why had he gone with her? Skandra scowled at nothing, and Shantar laughed.
"When are you going to make it work with her?" the grandfather smiled benevolently.
"Soon as she finds and removes that stick in her ass," the grandson smiled beatifically.
"You could do worse than a priestess," and now Shantar was somewhat disapproving. "She might even cure you of some of those bad habits."
Deliberately, Skandra put a clove between his lips, as though he'd been waiting for Shantar to say those precise words. Ever-so-slowly the younger of the two men scraped a match along the side of his face. The resulting flame was put to the end of the clove, and he began to smoke with a pleasure unrivaled by anything. Shantar's flat and judgmental turn of the mouth became a half-smile. He even watched the match spiral down, down, down toward the black sphere. There was silence between them, then, but there was no silence on the rise. Skandra had only to look over his shoulder to see the bustling base of activity that had become this particular ridge.
There were banners of some great general or another. His army was in charge of manning the roads, keeping travelers back. Right now a group of scouts were hunting for some shepherd and his lost flock. They bustled from tent to tent with important parchments in hand. Sergeants bawled obscenely at men they commanded. Bugles sounded, now and again. But the soldiers were keeping as far back as they could. The priestesses were the ones who were organizing an investigation and defense against whatever it was that was happening down there. Skandra was not sure they were going to find the answer. There definitely was an answer, but not one that he imagined would be easy to find. The priestesses were preparing to come over and talk to Shantar. There they were, all in a row. There was one out in front. He supposed she was in charge of this affair.
Aeotha, walking toward him.
"Be on your best behavior," Skandra warned darkly.
"She's too beautiful for that," Shantar winked.