Eragos Feareborne (proscribed) wrote in caeleste, @ 2009-12-08 12:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | a ruined way, eithne savastian, eragos feareborne, npc |
apoplexy (eithne)
They were running out of time. There was nothing he could do from inside of this room except die. That would only give Sarta - Sarta, somehow, impossibly - exactly what he wanted. There were no windows in this waiting chamber. But there were on the floor below. Even if he somehow reached the place without being apprehended or killed by Sarta it was still quite a drop to the ground below, and no certain way of reaching it. They were running out of time and options - Sarta was there, laughing at the end of the hall. Tirad was still captive. Cols was dead. The girl was dead. And around him they were all shocked by it, appalled at the horror that was unfolding before them. Cut off from assistance that might have led them to survive the day. It was his to give them that hope. Inspiration. Or even just a fighting chance of survival. But he could not weep for Cols now, or for the girl, or for those servants of the public who'd been twisted somehow. They should have all died by now - but they were still alive, the others were dead, and they had less than five minutes now to ensure that no one else died.
What was he supposed to do.
The tower shook with the force of a blow, and Eragos could hear Sarta cursing for it. Not only did he sway on his feet, but he could hear the grinding of stone. That distant rumbling hiss as rock shaved rock clean, one stone shearing away from another. Suddenly the tower which seemed so sturdy now seemed on the verge of collapse. For a moment he thought simply of charging, of dying nobly and bravely, but stupidly. The training of a knight did not carry his feet forward then. It froze them in place. Forced him to think. There were a vast number of insanities available to him just then. Charging ahead was one. But in this chamber, finely clothed in stone and silence, there was one option that seemed more preferable than the others. If it would work. Eragos turned to Thiele, his uniform swaying on the edge of collapse as he turned - stained with his blood, with the blood of other men, it seemed to cling to him only to mark him. Eragos did not have time to be sickened by the slaughter.
Nervous eyes found the fountain all at once, it seemed, and those same eyes looked to one another for the confirmation. Bahn was the first to act - he moved without seeming to be rushed, knife in hand. A knife most recently in his shoulder. The steel was discarded as he took a knee, pressed his hands against the stone. Eragos had no feel for magic of the kind that Bahn used. His scales were too specific in their purpose to be of use. Yet the time that did pass seemed to slide by slowly, agonizing in its hesitation, until the mage lifted his head. Eragos was already thinking about what they were to do. If some of them could...
"I can clear this away easily enough," the White Rider said as calmly as he could - and as quietly. "It goes down two floors. The veranda that we passed has a pool that it empties into."
"Can you fit through the passage?" asked Eragos, just as quietly.
"Do I have a choice?" and Bahn held up his hand before Eragos could reply. "It should work. A few scrapes is preferable to ... that."
Eragos made himself avoid looking at the men he'd killed. Good men. Soon he would have an explanation for what had happened. From Sarta's lips, dead or no, he would find the answer for this day. Now the most important thing was getting all of them out alive. The veranda had a window if he recalled, large but only good glass. There was no reason such a window could not be broken. If it was not already. Thiele and Tanist were his primary concern. Tirad would have to wait for steel to answer his question, but Thiele and Tanist could be out of here very quickly. Of course, once they reached the window, the question was much more complex. How did they go from the window to the ground? Without being seen? He could hear distant shouting, whether from within or without he did not know. But he hoped that no one came into this tower now. Sarta had somehow, miraculously, discovered the ability to break stone as nothing. All of their chances were being cut in two. And then two again.
Thiele was already speaking.
"If there is a window, then-"
"Do it," Eragos cut her off with an apologetic nod. "I won't ask you to stay, either of you. But..."
He trailed off as his eyes rolled back to Cols' severed head, frozen in horror, eyes glazed. There was nothing even remotely warm he could say while meeting those eyes. Whatever he'd said to that point would have to be enough.
"And as for me?" Bahn asked with all the annoyance he could muster. "Surely you don't expect me to flee."
"You'll be two floors down. Try to come up behind them."
"Ah, yes. The sneaking rat approach. My personal favorite."
Someday Eragos would have to ask how the man could be so glib. Yet Bahn gave the blue scarf hanging from his upper arm a tug before he set to work. Eyes closed, hands caressing stone, the White Rider began to work in earnest. Once again the machinations of his words, of his spell, were lost to Eragos. Perhaps lost to the rest of them as well, if not as much to Thiele or Tanist. A great trembling of stone rose up beneath them. Shuddering statues marked the passage of force. Now it was not just time for them to flee that Eragos counted, but time for him to work his blade among the men in that hall. Too little time, and they would all die. Too much time, and they would all die. Nevertheless as the stone began to grind away from the floor, and the rush of water was powerfully building beneath it. Bahn's hands sprang back as the stone toppled over. Steam and water boiled out of the opening, flowing around and away from the White Rider, spilling onto the ground madly.
There was a way. There had to be a way.
"You're testing my patience, Eragos!" Sarta's voice boomed down the hall. "Don't make me come in after you!"
It was only when his eyes met Eithne's that he felt the weight of it. Pushing down on him. She was as precious to him as anyone or anything could be. He would die a thousand times, die forever, if it meant keeping her safe for the same length of time. And she was the only one he had not asked to go down, to escape. She was the only one among those in the tower he could trust with his life. And he would fling her into death's jaws just as he flung himself. Hoping without faith. Praying without belief. If they lived it would not be what they did or did not do. Thiele went first. Then Tanist. And as Bahn began to ease himself into the opening, Eragos finally spoke to her, though his throat felt as though it were clothing on itself.
"Are you ready?" he asked her softly.