![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knitekatTitle: Return To Oskethia
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 6561.
Characters: Stevin Haart (Stephen Hart), Neq Quta (Nick Cutter), Jhaan Layle (Jon Lyle (OC)), Neyll Rhechayrhds (Niall Richards (OC)), Dyved Aawyn (David Owen (OC)), Rhaab Vynn (Robert Finn (OC)).
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Sequel to Prelude To The Storm. Also for my Lazy bingo prompt: Dark Tone.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fififolle for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Warnings: AU Fantasy-Horror – Dark Themes. Ye have been warned!
20 years after the Fall of Oskethia
Stevin leaned against the battlements of The Wall and stared northwards into Oskethia, seeing not the barren wasteland but how it had once been, only twenty years past. He remembered riding through the lush grassland beside Maarkis, passing the grazing herds and stopping off at the numerous villages which had dotted the plains. He smiled as he recalled the pleasant days spent in Wyicros with Elinnaa, Maarkis’ wife and their children, Aannaa and Robeet. He sighed, hoping they had managed to escape the Dark King’s forces, that Maarkis… No, he knew Maarkis would have returned once he had got his family safe, he wouldn’t have left anyone behind in Oskethia. Stevin closed his eyes for a moment, gripping the symbol of Water around his neck, as his mind replayed that terrible night, his last in New Essencyr.
He took a deep, shaky breath as he banished those memories to the back of his mind, knowing he couldn’t afford any distraction if his mission was to be successful. Stevin walked past the arrow slits and murder holes as he descended the stairs to the courtyard, nodding to the soldiers waiting below but not the man he had hoped to see. He sighed softly before checking his gear once more, stripping it to the bare essentials before strapping on his weapons.
He glanced towards the inner gate, his shoulders slumping when he realised Neq wasn’t coming to see him off. He’d hoped… Except he knew better, Neq was far too stubborn and wouldn’t forgive Stevin for arguing against him. Not that knowing that had stopped Stevin and he still believed they needed someone to enter Oskethia and see first-hand what was going on within that blighted nation. Neq, on the other hand believed they should rely upon the reports from the brave sailors who risked their lives and more as they sailed the coast, ever paced by the Dark King’s forces. As for the Seers of Caelisarra, well, Stevin had heard the tales, of how the Dark King had once been a powerful mage before he’d pursued darker paths to power. If that story was true, Stevin knew that no seer would be able to pierce the shields the Dark King would surely have raised to conceal his plans. No, someone would have to scout and, well, to put it mildly, the argument had grown heated until it had attracted the attention of Jaeni, the Caelisarran queen, who, after listening to both men, had over-ruled Neq. The Qelwaethian hadn’t been happy with that, he’d been even less happy when Stevin had volunteered for the mission, claiming that as an Oskethian he knew the lie of the land better than anyone else.
That had set Neq off again, as his lover had tried to convince Stevin not to go by pointing out that the land had changed beyond any man’s knowledge. Stevin had acknowledged that, for only a fool wouldn’t have, but had still insisted he was the best man for the task as a skilled tracker, hunter and scout. That had been the last he’d seen of Neq as the man had stormed off, rolling his r’s with a vengeance.
“Stevin!”
Stevin turned at Neq’s yell, a smile on his lips as he saw his lover hurrying towards him. “You came.” Stevin almost kicked himself at that inane comment.
“I couldn't let you go…” Neq ground to a halt as he seemed to notice they had an audience. He ran a hand through his hair, causing Stevin to grin as his lover’s hair stood up on end. “I… I might not agree with this mission, Stevin, and I certainly don’t with you going.”
“Neq.” Stevin had no wish to rehash old arguments.
“But,” Neq spoke over him. “I’d be a fool to let you go without reminding you what you need to come back to.” With that, Neq advanced upon him and took Stevin in his arms to snog him breathless. He stepped back and blushed slightly at the ragged cheer from the soldiers. “Please, Stevin, come back to me.”
“I will,” Stevin promised. “Wait for me.”
“Always,” Neq replied. “Now, keep your wits about you and...”
“I’ve been a forester, a tracker and a hunter for years, Neq Quta, I know how to look after myself.”
Stevin paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, taking the opportunity to gaze across the barren plain now known as The Desolation. He frowned when he realised the dull ache he’d carried in his heart for decades had finally faded, and for the first time, he recognised it for what it was: homesickness. He finally understood why his ancestors had risked everything to reclaim their ancient homeland. He recalled the tales his elders had told by the firelight, of how over a thousand years before, their ancestors had fought a holding action against the Dark King, spilling their blood and dying in their thousands to give the greatest mages of that age time to raise The Wall as a final defence against the unstoppable tide of the Dark King’s forces.
All the surviving Oskethians had ever wanted was a land to call their own, but it had not taken many years before their sacrifice was forgotten and they were looked down upon as refugees, as unwanted extra mouths to feed, even if they worked hard for every begrudged crust. It was easy to understand why many Oskethians had grown bitter, believing that the Northerners had sacrificed Oskethia just to save their own lands. Except Stevin had studied the maps, they clearly showed that raising The Wall south of Oskethia would have been impossible, and not just because the distance it would have had to stretch would have been beyond the power of the mages, indeed, many of them had used their life-energy to finish the casting, falling dead as The Wall rose. There was also the fact the casting had taken many days, days in which the Dark King’s forces would have killed the mages if they’d attempted the ritual south of Oskethia. Still, The Wall had been raised and it had blocked the Dark King’s ambitions as it had blocked his magic. Not that Stevin believed all the stories about The Wall; certainly not that dragons had aided in the task, for why would the mythical Firstborn of the Elements be concerned with the lives of mere humans?
Stevin’s gaze turned towards The Wall, just as his ancestors had believed the Dark King had been nothing more than a myth as he hadn’t been heard for over 500 years. At least, they had believed that until his forces had rolled across Oskethia and turned that once thriving land into nothing but dust and death. He shook his head sharply, if dragons still existed, surely someone would have sighted one in the last thousand years.
He shook his head once more, scattering those thoughts, he knew that standing in the open, musing about the past, was neither productive nor safe. He forced his mind back onto the mission, his sharp gaze sweeping The Desolation for any signs of movement and he allowed himself a moment of relief that his inattention hadn’t cost him his life, or worse, for he knew that any moment of distraction could be his last south of The Wall.
He might be relying on the Dark King thinking that no-one would be suicidal enough to walk into any land under his domain, but that didn’t mean it was safe to do so. Stevin had made a point to be cautious, to steer well clear of any abandoned farmhouses, villages and even the few towns his path took him near.
Still, he breathed in relief when he found himself standing beneath the dying boughs of The Harrowwoods. The trees might be sick and more dead than dying but they would still afford him greater cover than the openness of The Desolation had. Not that Stevin would relax his guard for a moment, for he knew even one moment’s inattention might kill him and he would only be safe once he was north of The Wall. Even then, only if it continued to hold against whatever plan the Dark King had, and he had to have one, for only that could explain his return after a more than 500 year absence.
Stevin felt the hairs on his arms and back of his neck rise as he walked through the far too quiet forest where nothing stirred. Not a single sound from bird or beast broke the silence and even Stevin's steps were muffled by the thick layer of decayed and decaying vegetation covering the ground. A dull thump had Stevin spinning around with his blade in his hand. He took a moment to calm his racing heart when he realised it was only one of the trees finally surrendering to the inevitable, the cloud of dust which had risen in its fall and which had set him coughing slowly drifting down to reveal the trunk split open to reveal the tree’s rotten heart.
It reminded Stevin of the need to step carefully, for being pinned beneath even a rotten tree would be his end as surely as an encounter with the Dark King’s Once-men. He found himself wishing for Layle’s thumbs to warn him of danger, before smiling grimly – they wouldn’t do him any good here, for danger lurked everywhere.
Stevin re-sheathed his sword and resumed his trek towards New Essencyr, the scant undergrowth allowing him to set a good pace as he hurried as fast as he could. He slowed and took a deep breath, the miasma the Dark King cast over his domain gnawed at his self-control and courage, but he forced himself to breath deeply, almost choking on the decay filling the air around him, and walk slowly. To be alert and to keep his wits about him, for to do otherwise would lead only to his doom.
The Harrowwood slowly changed as Stevin continued southwards, with even the scant undergrowth disappearing and leaving him far too exposed for his peace of mind. He jumped at a faint rasping noise, before he realised it was only the wind blowing through the lifeless trees, their stark branches stretching like skeletal fingers towards an uncaring sky. He shivered at that thought, the silence oppressive as he strained to hear any sound, and he unconsciously increased his pace.
Stevin paused when he reached the southern edge of the forest, the trees here long dead and many had fallen, their interwoven branches hampering his progress. He paused just within the treeline, every sense alert as he searched for any sign of danger. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered by a Once-man patrol while traversing the… well, he wouldn’t call it a natural barrier when it had been caused by the Dark King’s corrupting powers.
He stared at the land he’d known as a child; it looked so different now, bereft of almost every trace of vegetation or of any kind of life. He shook himself from those thoughts, he might be alone for now, but every moment he loitered raised the chance of something discovering him. He forced his way through the tangled branches, feeling them grasp at him as they snagged on his clothes. Finally through, he stepped into the open, his skin scratched and bloodied, and took stock. He listened for the sounds he’d known as a child, but nothing broke the stillness, even the, he supposed now aptly named, River Neverflow was quiet. Stevin crept carefully towards the rise he knew concealed the city of his birth from him. He hadn’t seen New Essencyr since that day of death and destruction and he found he needed to see it once more.
Stevin stopped and stared at the ruin before him. Oh, he’d seen other ruins on his way here but he’d never risked getting close to one. How had the grand city he recalled from his childhood fallen into such a state of devastation in the scant score of years since it had fallen? The great towers which had dominated the skyline were now broken, shattered and the remains jutted skywards as if they were beseeching the Elements themselves for aid, aid which had been denied to all who had not fled Oskethia in time. His gaze swept over his home city, the urge to walk the streets as he once had as a boy, to visit his old home, grew until he almost broke cover. He chided himself and turned his attention to the approach he would have to take to reach the city and he froze.
He almost forgot to breath, his heart hammering in his chest, as he stared in horror at the rank upon immeasurable rank of Once-men who stood motionless as they waited for the Dark King’s commands. He observed them in fascination before he remembered he was here to gather information, not to just stare at them, and he began to memorize details. He frowned as he noticed the condition and armament of the Once-men varied – from one which looked more-or-less normal – although the bloodless wounds on their bodies clearly showed they were long dead, clad in slightly rusted armour and wielding battered weapons – to ones so ancient and falling-to-pieces armour clad what were little more than bones with some tatters of desiccated flesh clinging to them. A number were missing limbs or bore other terrible damage, but all stood waiting for the Dark King’s commands, and Stevin assumed they kept going until they finally fell to pieces or were killed.
He found himself looking at their faces, recognising several who had frequented his parent’s inn and froze when he came across one face. The Once-man’s skull was exposed, the loose skin flapping in the wind against the side of its face. The eye socket on that side was smashed to ruin, but Stevin would recognise Gylbeet anywhere, even without the massive hammer that the blacksmith had wielded in that final battle on the docks twenty years ago. Stevin felt sick and quickly slithered back down the rise, his fist jammed in his mouth as he fought back the bile rising in his throat.
Several deep breaths later had Stevin back in control and he risked climbing back up the ridge once more, this time being more careful to keep low in case anyone… anything was watching. He forced himself to continue his perusal of the Once-men, knowing he needed to make an accurate report. A flicker of movement on one of the ruined towers caught his attention and he peered at them, wondering what he’d missed in his original dismissal of them.
There!
Something was moving on the side of the tower, climbing at inhuman speed and then leaping far too great a distance onto the neighbouring one. As he watched, a second creature scurried at speed straight up the tower, moving as if it was on level-ground, before flinging itself across the void between two of the towers. If they got to The Wall… Stevin now knew why the Dark King had been absent for so long, he had been creating an army which could swarm The Wall.
Stevin knew the risk of discovery grew with every moment he stayed, but he also knew he needed to get a closer look at the Dark King’s new creature. He cursed when they disappeared from his sight before he glanced back at the massed ranks of Once-men as he considered his options. It was clear that the Dark King meant to throw the Once-men at The Wall, probably as a distraction while his new creatures climbed it unseen and… He shook his head at the images of death and destruction those thoughts conjured.
The Once-men appeared passive, just standing there immobile as they waited for orders and Stevin knew he’d have to risk being seen by them. Still, he wasn’t reckless enough to just stand up in clear view of them, instead he crept along just below the ridge, looking for… well, a safe path didn’t exist, but one which at least gave him some cover from their never blinking stares.
A dip in the ridge had Stevin flattening himself to the ground, slowly rising until he could just peer into New Essencyr, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles whitened. Nothing appeared to be looking in his direction, yet he still paused, just to make sure. Knowing he needed to move, that he needed to be out of New Essencyr before nightfall, Stevin placed his faith in the Elements and slithered over the rim, keeping as low as he could as he crawled through the dirt and dust until he reached a block of stone fallen from one of the towers.
Stevin caught his breath as he checked for guards, ducking down when the ugly head of one of the Dark King’s new creatures came into sight. It was sheer luck it had been facing away from him. The creature was grey skinned, with over-long arms ending in sharp, ripping talons and a skinny, almost skeletal body. Its head was oddly shaped with a bulbous skull, and it was only when it cast about as if in search of a scent, that Stevin realised it lacked eyes. When it continued to snuffle, Stevin gave thanks to Air that the breeze was blowing its foul stench towards him and not the other way around. A cry in the night had Stevin start and had the creature leap on powerful hind-legs up the nearest tower, moving swiftly and silently and Stevin knew he needed to get out now, while he still had a chance.
It took all of Stevin’s will to move silently and carefully back up the ridge, every instinct crying out for him to run, to flee this place of death before it came to claim him.
Stevin felt he had pushed his luck as far as he could on this mission. Even if he hadn’t, returning to The Wall by the same path which had brought him to New Essencyr would be madness, for the Dark King’s forces would take the same direct route and would surely overtake him. Indeed, it had only been luck which had kept Stevin from meeting the advance vanguard of the Dark King’s forces on his way into Oskethia. He shuddered at the thought before glancing towards the sea, knowing he would have to take the longer coastal path, something he had hoped to avoid, for far too many of his nightmares involved the sea and his escape from New Essencyr.
He gathered his courage before moving quietly, carefully and as swiftly as he could towards the coastal path, fighting down the images which rose from his memories to haunt him as he heard the tide. The cries of men, women and children… No, he forced those images away with a curse and stepped onto the coastal path, hurrying along it as much as he could while being wary of the edge, for it had been crumbling long before Oskethia had fallen.
Stevin cursed when he realised dusk was falling, knowing that to continue invited a fall, where he’d either break a bone and be easy prey for any passing Once-man or that new creature, or he’d end up in the sea. Neither was a pleasant prospect and Stevin knew he would have to stop for the night. He had two choices that he could see – he could either climb down to the sea and find a cave or crevasse to hide in or he could take the greater risk of concealing himself in the ruined cottage he could see.
He glanced down at the sea again and shuddered when he realised the white sand of the beach was actually bone, he could make out the rounded end of a broken femur and, he swallowed, that looked like a child’s skull staring accusingly up at him from where it lay, abandoned to its fate when the Pale Horizon had set sail. The waves lapped around it like a patient dog waiting for a pat and Stevin turned away from it, swallowing as bile rose in his gorge once more. He couldn’t go down there, no matter how much safer the sea might be, he couldn't stand to be near those bones, almost feeling their reproachfulness that he was alive while they lay scattered and forgotten.
Stevin used what little light remained to scout the cottage for danger. He knew he’d get little rest here, he also knew being impatient would only get him killed… or worse. Although it would be dangerous to attempt to travel in daylight now the Dark King’s forces might be moving, it would be suicidal to risk it before the sun rose and so he spent an uncomfortable night crouched in a dark corner and waited impatiently for dawn. The sound of waves crashing on the beach of bone kept him awake as much as the fear that he’d be discovered. Still, tiredness dragged at his eyelids and he slept, only for his nightmares to jolt him awake. His nerves were so stretched that he jumped at the slightest noise, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly it cramped. He breathed as quietly as he could, listening intently for any danger that might be out there, waiting for him in the darkness, but all he could hear were the waves crashing on that beach of bones.
Faint sunlight woke Stevin from the fitful sleep he’d finally succumbed to in his exhaustion, his fingers gripping the symbol of Water around his neck as he gave his thanks for surviving the night. He rose, wincing from muscles grown stiff from crouching unmoving throughout the night and spent a few precious moments stretching the kinks out. He quickly broke his fast and knew he needed to reach The Wall by nightfall, he had no wish to spend another night in Oskethia. His gaze reluctantly turned to the sea, knowing if he didn’t reach The Wall that he’d have to consider spending the night beside it.
The need to reach The Wall’s safety almost had Stevin break cover but he forced himself to check carefully before he stepped away from the scant protection the cottage had provided. The landscape was far too open here and he’d be visible to anyone, anything of the Dark King’s forces who looked his way. He also knew he had miles to cross before he reached The Wall and would have to set a steady pace he could keep up for hours.
Stevin had been walking for hours when he spotted something in the distance. Something which caused him to stop and peer at it intently, his hand once more on his sword. A frown appeared on his face when he realised it was a splotch of green in this barren wasteland. Nothing lives this far south of The Wall, nothing could… could it? Curiosity had him heading towards it, every nerve strung as he knew this could be a trap.
He couldn't believe his eyes as he entered the grove, gazing around in amazement, as he took in the life around him, life he hadn’t seen since he crossed The Wall. Leaves rustled in the breeze, insects buzzed in the air and Stevin even heard the cry of a bird. He paused, torn between investigating how this life could exist within the lands controlled by the Dark King and hurrying back to The Wall to give his report. In the end, curiosity won and he stepped deeper into the grove, the boughs closing over his head. He smiled as he revelled in the life surrounding him, feeling at peace for the first time since he’d entered Oskethia. He frowned when he heard something else, the sound pulling him deeper into the heart of the grove and he smiled when he saw the babbling spring which gushed from the ground. The sight, smell and sound of flowing water reminded Stevin of how parched he was and he slaked his thirst, trusting to Water to protect him. For all knew Water was the well-spring of life – that where it flowed, the Dark King held no power. It was why his Once-men dammed any flowing water they came across for they could not cross it while it flowed. It was something which Stevin knew would be the fate of this spring once the Dark King’s forces spotted it.
Which was why no matter how much Stevin wanted to stay and enjoy the beauty of all the life which surrounded him, he knew he couldn’t, and not just because every moment south of The Wall was asking for trouble. He needed to reach The Wall before the Dark King… he glanced around nervously, this life would be a siren call for any Once-man who saw it and he couldn't be here when they came. Still, even knowing the danger, Stevin found himself taking a moment to offer his prayers to the Elements, asking for their protection on his journey.
Stevin tensed when he heard something, his hand finding his sword hilt once more as he froze and used all his senses to search for any signs of danger. Once again he found himself wishing for Layle’s thumbs… but as the foul stench of rotting meat filled his nostrils, Stevin knew he had no need of them to warn him of danger. He swiftly moved into cover downwind of the stench and carefully crouched down within the undergrowth. He dared not move, almost dared not breath, when he heard the heavy tramp-tramp of someone approaching. He knew that if he hadn’t given into his curiosity, if he had instead continued on his journey, that he would have been caught out in the open. He shuddered as he recalled what happened to those the Once-men caught and he gave thanks to the Elements.
If he could remain still and silent, if the Elements were with him, the Dark King’s forces might miss him as they mindlessly obeyed their instructions to dam the flowing water. He blinked his watering eyes as the breeze continued to blow the nauseating odour of rotting flesh and worse into his face, and he almost closed his eyes to give thanks to Air once more that his own scent wasn’t being blown towards those who would hunt him down without mercy. Every fibre of his being cried out that he should flee as those heavy, almost stumbling footsteps grew ever closer, but… he swallowed down the bile which rose as images forced themselves into his consciousness, of what happened to those who had tried to run, tried to run but failed.
Stevin called upon all his training as a scout and a hunter, learned in the forests of his youth – including in what was now the Harrowwood – to remain absolutely motionless. He dared not move a muscle until the sounds of the enemy faded, knowing they had dammed the spring and that there had been nothing he could have done to prevent it. He bowed his head for a moment at its passing and vowed he would make it to The Wall with the information he had obtained, information he knew would be vital in saving the lands north of The Wall from the same fate.
He was finally easing out of his crouch when he heard the snap of a twig breaking behind him. Long years of fighting for his life had Stevin reacting without thought, drawing his sword as he spun around to face whatever was behind him. He stared in horror at the Once-man before him, recognising the man who had once been his friend and mentor, Maarkis. Rusty armour hung from the Once-man’s emaciated form and his sword was bent and twisted. Close up, Stevin could see that Maarkis’ eyes were dead and his skin held a greyish pallor, massive clumps of his hair were missing, as was his nose. The ripe stench rising from his body had Stevin trying to breath through his mouth, rather than his nose. Maarkis… no, the foe Stevin faced might wear (most) of Maarkis’ face, it might look like him but it was but a shell directed by the Dark King’s unnatural power.
Stevin's distraction almost cost him dearly as he only just avoided the Once-man’s blow. He parried the next, the sound of metal grating on metal far too loud to Stevin's ears and he knew he had to destroy the Once-man before the fight attracted the patrol, for Stevin knew he would stand no chance against that many Once-men.
He stepped back, disengaging from the Once-man and paused, this was a man he had once looked up to. He shook his head, knowing that the man Maarkis had once been would have asked him to put him down. Stevin took a deep breath, choked on the reek, and aimed a thrust at it, hoping to fell it quickly. He winced when his blade split its bloated belly open like an overripe melon, it’s half-rotten and strangely warm intestines slithered from the gash to tangle around its feet and over Stevin's. The Once-man didn’t even seem to notice as it swung at Stevin, who barely blocked the strike as he almost tripped over the slimy mess. He swore as he changed his grip, thrusting deep into the Once-man’s chest, hoping his sword was stronger than the creature’s rusting armour. He heard the teeth-grating squeal his blade made as it penetrated the armour to render the Once-man’s unbeating heart in two. He felt a wave of gratitude flow over him as he ended the Once-man’s unnatural existence and released Maarkis’ spirit from the Dark King’s control. It took some effort to wrench his sword free and Stevin winced at the shrill grate of metal on metal. He still took a moment to wipe his blade clean on the tattered remains of the Once-man’s clothing as he muttered a quick pray to send Maarkis’ freed spirit on its way to the Elements.
He listened intently for any sign that the fight had been heard and cursed his luck when a steady tramp-tramp reached his ears. All caution forgotten, Stevin turned and ran as if the Dark King himself was at his heels, and considering what was chasing him, it might as well have been.
Stevin cursed, knowing the Once-men would be hunting him now and that they would never stop. Unlike him, they never needed to rest and never tired. He glanced towards the sea, knowing he would have time to reach it before the Once-men caught him. He knew the sea would stop the Dark King’s powers, for Water was life as the Dark King was death. The problem was that he’d be trapped there, his only choices would be to either meet the Once-men in combat he could never win or try to swim to safety. As both choices would inevitably result in his death, Stevin knew he’d have to take his chances and make for The Wall, hoping to the Elements that he reached it before the Once-men caught up with him.
He knew he had to conserve his energy, and even though every instinct cried out at him to run faster, Stevin slowed down. He hoped he had enough of a lead on his hunters that he’d reach The Wall before them. Even then, he could feel exhaustion sapping his strength and he knew his steps were slowing despite his best efforts, but he couldn’t stop. He might need to rest but those hunting him would never rest, never sleep, they’d just follow him every minute of the day and night until they caught him or he reached The Wall.
He wondered for a moment if it might be better to make a stand when he still had the strength to raise his sword. No, he knew what happened to those who met the Dark King’s forces and fell beneath their blades, only to rise once more to do the enemy’s bidding. If he had to die, the sea would be a quicker, cleaner death. No, he shook his head, the information he had was too important, he had to get back to The Wall and warn them about the Dark King’s new creatures.
Stevin almost cried out in relief when he finally spotted The Wall jutting skywards. Oh, he knew it was still so far away, that he might not reach it in time, but it gave him hope. It gave him renewed strength and he moved with increased purpose. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder to check on his lead and swore when he realised the Once-men would catch up with him almost within reach of The Wall.
He had planned to reach one of the few heavily guarded gates which pierced The Wall but swore when he realised he’d stumbled off-course in his exhaustion. He knew he’d never reach a gate in time nor be able to climb it, for it was dozens of yards high and had been made in ages past, the very stones said to have been melted slick-smooth by Dragon’s fire. He cursed his luck, to have made it this close only to fail. He shook his head and dredged up the last of his strength, he hadn’t failed yet and he refused to surrender now he was so close.
“Move, Haart!”
Stevin almost stopped at that cry, not having realised he’d reached The Wall. He heard a familiar whoosh and swung around to see several of his pursuers with flaming arrows sticking in them; the rusting armour hanging loosely from their shrivelled forms doing little to protect them. Still, they moved forwards, seemingly unaware and unconcerned that they were aflame, their bent swords and battered shields ready to meet Stevin in combat and he drew his own blade to sell his life dearly.
“Bloody hell, Haart!”
That same, well-known voice yelled from nearer and Stevin tore his gaze from the Once-men to look up, blinking before grinning. Only Jhaan Layle would be mad enough to walk down The Wall on a rope to rescue him. Stevin half-ran, half-staggered towards him, grabbing the harness Layle tossed to him and struggled to put it on as tremors ran through his abused muscles. As the nearest Once-man stretched a smouldering hand towards him, fingers dropping to shrivel and burn on the dusty ground, Stevin finally managed to secure the straps and heard Layle shout to pull them up. He felt the Once-man grip his boot and he kicked out desperately to free himself, feeling his foot impact and sink into its rotten face. He felt another hand grab him, the weight threatening to drag him back down to his death and worse.
The rope juddered before Stevin was pulled upwards, inch by inch as the two Once-men clung to his boots. He could feel them clawing their way up his legs, and he struggled to kick them free before their teeth could sink into his defenceless flesh.
“Stevin! Stop bloody squirming.”
If he had had the breath to spare, Stevin would have asked how Vynn would have loved a Once-man getting that close to his crown jewels. The rope suddenly dropped him a few feet before jarring to a halt and he grimaced as the straps caught him uncomfortably. The only good news was he felt the Once-men grip slither down his legs until they were once more hanging onto his boots.
He flinched when an arrow whistled past his ear and buried itself in the near skinless skull of the Once-man he’d kicked in the face, it tilted what was left of that face upwards and took another arrow in an empty eye-socket. More arrows rained down until the Once-men resembled hedgehogs but they continued to cling to him, their bony fingers still clawing at his legs as they resumed their climb up his body. He kicked out, hoping to dislodge them and felt one slip down, its rotten flesh parting from its bones to stain Stevin's leather trousers before it fell to the ground, impacting with a squelch as its rotten flesh seemed to explode from its bones. Stevin watched in horror as it dragged its mangled, broken form mindlessly back onto its feet and stare up at him in hunger.
That still left Stevin in the precarious position of being half-way up The Wall with a determined Once-man’s teeth once more getting far too close to his groin for his liking. He kicked out again, almost crying out when an arrow pierced his thigh.
He continued to wiggle in an attempt to shake the Once-man off when he felt himself dragged over the battlements of The Wall and a sword swung at the Once-man, taking its head clean off. “Bloody hell!” Stevin cried when the blade buried itself just shy of his groin and he looked up into the dangerous green eyes of the soldier wielding it.
“Neyll never misses,” Layle informed him.
“Still too fucking close,” Stevin muttered.
“Better my blade than its teeth,” Neyll said, wiping his sword clean on a scrap of clothing before kicking the Once-man’s head back over The Wall.
“True, you have my thanks,” Stevin agreed, clasping Neyll’s hand in gratitude. He hissed as that movement jarred his leg. “I need to see the Council.”
“You need to see Aawyn,” Layle countered. “He will remove the arrow and bind the wound.”
“I can see both at the same time,” Stevin insisted. “My news can’t wait.”
“Aawyn won’t be happy,” Layle said before glancing up at a commotion. “But then, neither is Neq.”
“Stevin,” Neq called out as he rushed over, his eyes widening at the arrow protruding from his lover’s thigh. “Who…”
“Neq!” Stevin grabbed Neq and tugged him in for a kiss. “They saved my life.”
Neq meet his gaze before subsiding and he nodded somewhat begrudgingly to the soldiers. “My thanks.” His eyes flickered around the battlements before he demanded, “And where’s Aawyn?”
“Here, if you’d get out of the way, Neq Quta,” Aawyn said, settling down to check Stevin's leg and frowning at the stains on his trousers. “Neyll, help me cut these off.”
“Here?” Stevin almost squeaked.
“Unless you’d like Once-man ichor in your veins?” Aawyn replied matter-of-factly, pausing to look up to see Stevin’s paling face. “I thought not. Neyll?”
“Aawyn?” Neq asked, worry clear in his voice.
“The ichor stain is below the wound, Neq,” Stevin tried to reassure his lover, even as fear gripped his heart once more. If the ichor entered his blood stream… he swallowed, before repeating, “I must see the Council. Now!” He had to meet with them, to tell report what he had seen, just in case he was infected. He had to see them before it might be too late, both for him and for the lands south of The Wall.
Layle clasped Stevin's hand. “We’ll move you once Aawyn's finished and I’ll pass on your message to see the Council to Queen Jaeni herself.” He clapped Neq on the back before showing both of them his hands, his thumbs untouched… and Stevin just hoped they stayed that way.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: 6561.
Characters: Stevin Haart (Stephen Hart), Neq Quta (Nick Cutter), Jhaan Layle (Jon Lyle (OC)), Neyll Rhechayrhds (Niall Richards (OC)), Dyved Aawyn (David Owen (OC)), Rhaab Vynn (Robert Finn (OC)).
Rating: 18
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N 1: Sequel to Prelude To The Storm. Also for my Lazy bingo prompt: Dark Tone.
A/N 2: Thanks go to Fififolle for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Warnings: AU Fantasy-Horror – Dark Themes. Ye have been warned!
20 years after the Fall of Oskethia
Stevin leaned against the battlements of The Wall and stared northwards into Oskethia, seeing not the barren wasteland but how it had once been, only twenty years past. He remembered riding through the lush grassland beside Maarkis, passing the grazing herds and stopping off at the numerous villages which had dotted the plains. He smiled as he recalled the pleasant days spent in Wyicros with Elinnaa, Maarkis’ wife and their children, Aannaa and Robeet. He sighed, hoping they had managed to escape the Dark King’s forces, that Maarkis… No, he knew Maarkis would have returned once he had got his family safe, he wouldn’t have left anyone behind in Oskethia. Stevin closed his eyes for a moment, gripping the symbol of Water around his neck, as his mind replayed that terrible night, his last in New Essencyr.
He took a deep, shaky breath as he banished those memories to the back of his mind, knowing he couldn’t afford any distraction if his mission was to be successful. Stevin walked past the arrow slits and murder holes as he descended the stairs to the courtyard, nodding to the soldiers waiting below but not the man he had hoped to see. He sighed softly before checking his gear once more, stripping it to the bare essentials before strapping on his weapons.
He glanced towards the inner gate, his shoulders slumping when he realised Neq wasn’t coming to see him off. He’d hoped… Except he knew better, Neq was far too stubborn and wouldn’t forgive Stevin for arguing against him. Not that knowing that had stopped Stevin and he still believed they needed someone to enter Oskethia and see first-hand what was going on within that blighted nation. Neq, on the other hand believed they should rely upon the reports from the brave sailors who risked their lives and more as they sailed the coast, ever paced by the Dark King’s forces. As for the Seers of Caelisarra, well, Stevin had heard the tales, of how the Dark King had once been a powerful mage before he’d pursued darker paths to power. If that story was true, Stevin knew that no seer would be able to pierce the shields the Dark King would surely have raised to conceal his plans. No, someone would have to scout and, well, to put it mildly, the argument had grown heated until it had attracted the attention of Jaeni, the Caelisarran queen, who, after listening to both men, had over-ruled Neq. The Qelwaethian hadn’t been happy with that, he’d been even less happy when Stevin had volunteered for the mission, claiming that as an Oskethian he knew the lie of the land better than anyone else.
That had set Neq off again, as his lover had tried to convince Stevin not to go by pointing out that the land had changed beyond any man’s knowledge. Stevin had acknowledged that, for only a fool wouldn’t have, but had still insisted he was the best man for the task as a skilled tracker, hunter and scout. That had been the last he’d seen of Neq as the man had stormed off, rolling his r’s with a vengeance.
“Stevin!”
Stevin turned at Neq’s yell, a smile on his lips as he saw his lover hurrying towards him. “You came.” Stevin almost kicked himself at that inane comment.
“I couldn't let you go…” Neq ground to a halt as he seemed to notice they had an audience. He ran a hand through his hair, causing Stevin to grin as his lover’s hair stood up on end. “I… I might not agree with this mission, Stevin, and I certainly don’t with you going.”
“Neq.” Stevin had no wish to rehash old arguments.
“But,” Neq spoke over him. “I’d be a fool to let you go without reminding you what you need to come back to.” With that, Neq advanced upon him and took Stevin in his arms to snog him breathless. He stepped back and blushed slightly at the ragged cheer from the soldiers. “Please, Stevin, come back to me.”
“I will,” Stevin promised. “Wait for me.”
“Always,” Neq replied. “Now, keep your wits about you and...”
“I’ve been a forester, a tracker and a hunter for years, Neq Quta, I know how to look after myself.”
Stevin paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, taking the opportunity to gaze across the barren plain now known as The Desolation. He frowned when he realised the dull ache he’d carried in his heart for decades had finally faded, and for the first time, he recognised it for what it was: homesickness. He finally understood why his ancestors had risked everything to reclaim their ancient homeland. He recalled the tales his elders had told by the firelight, of how over a thousand years before, their ancestors had fought a holding action against the Dark King, spilling their blood and dying in their thousands to give the greatest mages of that age time to raise The Wall as a final defence against the unstoppable tide of the Dark King’s forces.
All the surviving Oskethians had ever wanted was a land to call their own, but it had not taken many years before their sacrifice was forgotten and they were looked down upon as refugees, as unwanted extra mouths to feed, even if they worked hard for every begrudged crust. It was easy to understand why many Oskethians had grown bitter, believing that the Northerners had sacrificed Oskethia just to save their own lands. Except Stevin had studied the maps, they clearly showed that raising The Wall south of Oskethia would have been impossible, and not just because the distance it would have had to stretch would have been beyond the power of the mages, indeed, many of them had used their life-energy to finish the casting, falling dead as The Wall rose. There was also the fact the casting had taken many days, days in which the Dark King’s forces would have killed the mages if they’d attempted the ritual south of Oskethia. Still, The Wall had been raised and it had blocked the Dark King’s ambitions as it had blocked his magic. Not that Stevin believed all the stories about The Wall; certainly not that dragons had aided in the task, for why would the mythical Firstborn of the Elements be concerned with the lives of mere humans?
Stevin’s gaze turned towards The Wall, just as his ancestors had believed the Dark King had been nothing more than a myth as he hadn’t been heard for over 500 years. At least, they had believed that until his forces had rolled across Oskethia and turned that once thriving land into nothing but dust and death. He shook his head sharply, if dragons still existed, surely someone would have sighted one in the last thousand years.
He shook his head once more, scattering those thoughts, he knew that standing in the open, musing about the past, was neither productive nor safe. He forced his mind back onto the mission, his sharp gaze sweeping The Desolation for any signs of movement and he allowed himself a moment of relief that his inattention hadn’t cost him his life, or worse, for he knew that any moment of distraction could be his last south of The Wall.
He might be relying on the Dark King thinking that no-one would be suicidal enough to walk into any land under his domain, but that didn’t mean it was safe to do so. Stevin had made a point to be cautious, to steer well clear of any abandoned farmhouses, villages and even the few towns his path took him near.
Still, he breathed in relief when he found himself standing beneath the dying boughs of The Harrowwoods. The trees might be sick and more dead than dying but they would still afford him greater cover than the openness of The Desolation had. Not that Stevin would relax his guard for a moment, for he knew even one moment’s inattention might kill him and he would only be safe once he was north of The Wall. Even then, only if it continued to hold against whatever plan the Dark King had, and he had to have one, for only that could explain his return after a more than 500 year absence.
Stevin felt the hairs on his arms and back of his neck rise as he walked through the far too quiet forest where nothing stirred. Not a single sound from bird or beast broke the silence and even Stevin's steps were muffled by the thick layer of decayed and decaying vegetation covering the ground. A dull thump had Stevin spinning around with his blade in his hand. He took a moment to calm his racing heart when he realised it was only one of the trees finally surrendering to the inevitable, the cloud of dust which had risen in its fall and which had set him coughing slowly drifting down to reveal the trunk split open to reveal the tree’s rotten heart.
It reminded Stevin of the need to step carefully, for being pinned beneath even a rotten tree would be his end as surely as an encounter with the Dark King’s Once-men. He found himself wishing for Layle’s thumbs to warn him of danger, before smiling grimly – they wouldn’t do him any good here, for danger lurked everywhere.
Stevin re-sheathed his sword and resumed his trek towards New Essencyr, the scant undergrowth allowing him to set a good pace as he hurried as fast as he could. He slowed and took a deep breath, the miasma the Dark King cast over his domain gnawed at his self-control and courage, but he forced himself to breath deeply, almost choking on the decay filling the air around him, and walk slowly. To be alert and to keep his wits about him, for to do otherwise would lead only to his doom.
The Harrowwood slowly changed as Stevin continued southwards, with even the scant undergrowth disappearing and leaving him far too exposed for his peace of mind. He jumped at a faint rasping noise, before he realised it was only the wind blowing through the lifeless trees, their stark branches stretching like skeletal fingers towards an uncaring sky. He shivered at that thought, the silence oppressive as he strained to hear any sound, and he unconsciously increased his pace.
Stevin paused when he reached the southern edge of the forest, the trees here long dead and many had fallen, their interwoven branches hampering his progress. He paused just within the treeline, every sense alert as he searched for any sign of danger. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered by a Once-man patrol while traversing the… well, he wouldn’t call it a natural barrier when it had been caused by the Dark King’s corrupting powers.
He stared at the land he’d known as a child; it looked so different now, bereft of almost every trace of vegetation or of any kind of life. He shook himself from those thoughts, he might be alone for now, but every moment he loitered raised the chance of something discovering him. He forced his way through the tangled branches, feeling them grasp at him as they snagged on his clothes. Finally through, he stepped into the open, his skin scratched and bloodied, and took stock. He listened for the sounds he’d known as a child, but nothing broke the stillness, even the, he supposed now aptly named, River Neverflow was quiet. Stevin crept carefully towards the rise he knew concealed the city of his birth from him. He hadn’t seen New Essencyr since that day of death and destruction and he found he needed to see it once more.
Stevin stopped and stared at the ruin before him. Oh, he’d seen other ruins on his way here but he’d never risked getting close to one. How had the grand city he recalled from his childhood fallen into such a state of devastation in the scant score of years since it had fallen? The great towers which had dominated the skyline were now broken, shattered and the remains jutted skywards as if they were beseeching the Elements themselves for aid, aid which had been denied to all who had not fled Oskethia in time. His gaze swept over his home city, the urge to walk the streets as he once had as a boy, to visit his old home, grew until he almost broke cover. He chided himself and turned his attention to the approach he would have to take to reach the city and he froze.
He almost forgot to breath, his heart hammering in his chest, as he stared in horror at the rank upon immeasurable rank of Once-men who stood motionless as they waited for the Dark King’s commands. He observed them in fascination before he remembered he was here to gather information, not to just stare at them, and he began to memorize details. He frowned as he noticed the condition and armament of the Once-men varied – from one which looked more-or-less normal – although the bloodless wounds on their bodies clearly showed they were long dead, clad in slightly rusted armour and wielding battered weapons – to ones so ancient and falling-to-pieces armour clad what were little more than bones with some tatters of desiccated flesh clinging to them. A number were missing limbs or bore other terrible damage, but all stood waiting for the Dark King’s commands, and Stevin assumed they kept going until they finally fell to pieces or were killed.
He found himself looking at their faces, recognising several who had frequented his parent’s inn and froze when he came across one face. The Once-man’s skull was exposed, the loose skin flapping in the wind against the side of its face. The eye socket on that side was smashed to ruin, but Stevin would recognise Gylbeet anywhere, even without the massive hammer that the blacksmith had wielded in that final battle on the docks twenty years ago. Stevin felt sick and quickly slithered back down the rise, his fist jammed in his mouth as he fought back the bile rising in his throat.
Several deep breaths later had Stevin back in control and he risked climbing back up the ridge once more, this time being more careful to keep low in case anyone… anything was watching. He forced himself to continue his perusal of the Once-men, knowing he needed to make an accurate report. A flicker of movement on one of the ruined towers caught his attention and he peered at them, wondering what he’d missed in his original dismissal of them.
There!
Something was moving on the side of the tower, climbing at inhuman speed and then leaping far too great a distance onto the neighbouring one. As he watched, a second creature scurried at speed straight up the tower, moving as if it was on level-ground, before flinging itself across the void between two of the towers. If they got to The Wall… Stevin now knew why the Dark King had been absent for so long, he had been creating an army which could swarm The Wall.
Stevin knew the risk of discovery grew with every moment he stayed, but he also knew he needed to get a closer look at the Dark King’s new creature. He cursed when they disappeared from his sight before he glanced back at the massed ranks of Once-men as he considered his options. It was clear that the Dark King meant to throw the Once-men at The Wall, probably as a distraction while his new creatures climbed it unseen and… He shook his head at the images of death and destruction those thoughts conjured.
The Once-men appeared passive, just standing there immobile as they waited for orders and Stevin knew he’d have to risk being seen by them. Still, he wasn’t reckless enough to just stand up in clear view of them, instead he crept along just below the ridge, looking for… well, a safe path didn’t exist, but one which at least gave him some cover from their never blinking stares.
A dip in the ridge had Stevin flattening himself to the ground, slowly rising until he could just peer into New Essencyr, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles whitened. Nothing appeared to be looking in his direction, yet he still paused, just to make sure. Knowing he needed to move, that he needed to be out of New Essencyr before nightfall, Stevin placed his faith in the Elements and slithered over the rim, keeping as low as he could as he crawled through the dirt and dust until he reached a block of stone fallen from one of the towers.
Stevin caught his breath as he checked for guards, ducking down when the ugly head of one of the Dark King’s new creatures came into sight. It was sheer luck it had been facing away from him. The creature was grey skinned, with over-long arms ending in sharp, ripping talons and a skinny, almost skeletal body. Its head was oddly shaped with a bulbous skull, and it was only when it cast about as if in search of a scent, that Stevin realised it lacked eyes. When it continued to snuffle, Stevin gave thanks to Air that the breeze was blowing its foul stench towards him and not the other way around. A cry in the night had Stevin start and had the creature leap on powerful hind-legs up the nearest tower, moving swiftly and silently and Stevin knew he needed to get out now, while he still had a chance.
It took all of Stevin’s will to move silently and carefully back up the ridge, every instinct crying out for him to run, to flee this place of death before it came to claim him.
***
Stevin felt he had pushed his luck as far as he could on this mission. Even if he hadn’t, returning to The Wall by the same path which had brought him to New Essencyr would be madness, for the Dark King’s forces would take the same direct route and would surely overtake him. Indeed, it had only been luck which had kept Stevin from meeting the advance vanguard of the Dark King’s forces on his way into Oskethia. He shuddered at the thought before glancing towards the sea, knowing he would have to take the longer coastal path, something he had hoped to avoid, for far too many of his nightmares involved the sea and his escape from New Essencyr.
He gathered his courage before moving quietly, carefully and as swiftly as he could towards the coastal path, fighting down the images which rose from his memories to haunt him as he heard the tide. The cries of men, women and children… No, he forced those images away with a curse and stepped onto the coastal path, hurrying along it as much as he could while being wary of the edge, for it had been crumbling long before Oskethia had fallen.
Stevin cursed when he realised dusk was falling, knowing that to continue invited a fall, where he’d either break a bone and be easy prey for any passing Once-man or that new creature, or he’d end up in the sea. Neither was a pleasant prospect and Stevin knew he would have to stop for the night. He had two choices that he could see – he could either climb down to the sea and find a cave or crevasse to hide in or he could take the greater risk of concealing himself in the ruined cottage he could see.
He glanced down at the sea again and shuddered when he realised the white sand of the beach was actually bone, he could make out the rounded end of a broken femur and, he swallowed, that looked like a child’s skull staring accusingly up at him from where it lay, abandoned to its fate when the Pale Horizon had set sail. The waves lapped around it like a patient dog waiting for a pat and Stevin turned away from it, swallowing as bile rose in his gorge once more. He couldn’t go down there, no matter how much safer the sea might be, he couldn't stand to be near those bones, almost feeling their reproachfulness that he was alive while they lay scattered and forgotten.
Stevin used what little light remained to scout the cottage for danger. He knew he’d get little rest here, he also knew being impatient would only get him killed… or worse. Although it would be dangerous to attempt to travel in daylight now the Dark King’s forces might be moving, it would be suicidal to risk it before the sun rose and so he spent an uncomfortable night crouched in a dark corner and waited impatiently for dawn. The sound of waves crashing on the beach of bone kept him awake as much as the fear that he’d be discovered. Still, tiredness dragged at his eyelids and he slept, only for his nightmares to jolt him awake. His nerves were so stretched that he jumped at the slightest noise, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly it cramped. He breathed as quietly as he could, listening intently for any danger that might be out there, waiting for him in the darkness, but all he could hear were the waves crashing on that beach of bones.
***
Faint sunlight woke Stevin from the fitful sleep he’d finally succumbed to in his exhaustion, his fingers gripping the symbol of Water around his neck as he gave his thanks for surviving the night. He rose, wincing from muscles grown stiff from crouching unmoving throughout the night and spent a few precious moments stretching the kinks out. He quickly broke his fast and knew he needed to reach The Wall by nightfall, he had no wish to spend another night in Oskethia. His gaze reluctantly turned to the sea, knowing if he didn’t reach The Wall that he’d have to consider spending the night beside it.
The need to reach The Wall’s safety almost had Stevin break cover but he forced himself to check carefully before he stepped away from the scant protection the cottage had provided. The landscape was far too open here and he’d be visible to anyone, anything of the Dark King’s forces who looked his way. He also knew he had miles to cross before he reached The Wall and would have to set a steady pace he could keep up for hours.
***
Stevin had been walking for hours when he spotted something in the distance. Something which caused him to stop and peer at it intently, his hand once more on his sword. A frown appeared on his face when he realised it was a splotch of green in this barren wasteland. Nothing lives this far south of The Wall, nothing could… could it? Curiosity had him heading towards it, every nerve strung as he knew this could be a trap.
He couldn't believe his eyes as he entered the grove, gazing around in amazement, as he took in the life around him, life he hadn’t seen since he crossed The Wall. Leaves rustled in the breeze, insects buzzed in the air and Stevin even heard the cry of a bird. He paused, torn between investigating how this life could exist within the lands controlled by the Dark King and hurrying back to The Wall to give his report. In the end, curiosity won and he stepped deeper into the grove, the boughs closing over his head. He smiled as he revelled in the life surrounding him, feeling at peace for the first time since he’d entered Oskethia. He frowned when he heard something else, the sound pulling him deeper into the heart of the grove and he smiled when he saw the babbling spring which gushed from the ground. The sight, smell and sound of flowing water reminded Stevin of how parched he was and he slaked his thirst, trusting to Water to protect him. For all knew Water was the well-spring of life – that where it flowed, the Dark King held no power. It was why his Once-men dammed any flowing water they came across for they could not cross it while it flowed. It was something which Stevin knew would be the fate of this spring once the Dark King’s forces spotted it.
Which was why no matter how much Stevin wanted to stay and enjoy the beauty of all the life which surrounded him, he knew he couldn’t, and not just because every moment south of The Wall was asking for trouble. He needed to reach The Wall before the Dark King… he glanced around nervously, this life would be a siren call for any Once-man who saw it and he couldn't be here when they came. Still, even knowing the danger, Stevin found himself taking a moment to offer his prayers to the Elements, asking for their protection on his journey.
Stevin tensed when he heard something, his hand finding his sword hilt once more as he froze and used all his senses to search for any signs of danger. Once again he found himself wishing for Layle’s thumbs… but as the foul stench of rotting meat filled his nostrils, Stevin knew he had no need of them to warn him of danger. He swiftly moved into cover downwind of the stench and carefully crouched down within the undergrowth. He dared not move, almost dared not breath, when he heard the heavy tramp-tramp of someone approaching. He knew that if he hadn’t given into his curiosity, if he had instead continued on his journey, that he would have been caught out in the open. He shuddered as he recalled what happened to those the Once-men caught and he gave thanks to the Elements.
If he could remain still and silent, if the Elements were with him, the Dark King’s forces might miss him as they mindlessly obeyed their instructions to dam the flowing water. He blinked his watering eyes as the breeze continued to blow the nauseating odour of rotting flesh and worse into his face, and he almost closed his eyes to give thanks to Air once more that his own scent wasn’t being blown towards those who would hunt him down without mercy. Every fibre of his being cried out that he should flee as those heavy, almost stumbling footsteps grew ever closer, but… he swallowed down the bile which rose as images forced themselves into his consciousness, of what happened to those who had tried to run, tried to run but failed.
Stevin called upon all his training as a scout and a hunter, learned in the forests of his youth – including in what was now the Harrowwood – to remain absolutely motionless. He dared not move a muscle until the sounds of the enemy faded, knowing they had dammed the spring and that there had been nothing he could have done to prevent it. He bowed his head for a moment at its passing and vowed he would make it to The Wall with the information he had obtained, information he knew would be vital in saving the lands north of The Wall from the same fate.
He was finally easing out of his crouch when he heard the snap of a twig breaking behind him. Long years of fighting for his life had Stevin reacting without thought, drawing his sword as he spun around to face whatever was behind him. He stared in horror at the Once-man before him, recognising the man who had once been his friend and mentor, Maarkis. Rusty armour hung from the Once-man’s emaciated form and his sword was bent and twisted. Close up, Stevin could see that Maarkis’ eyes were dead and his skin held a greyish pallor, massive clumps of his hair were missing, as was his nose. The ripe stench rising from his body had Stevin trying to breath through his mouth, rather than his nose. Maarkis… no, the foe Stevin faced might wear (most) of Maarkis’ face, it might look like him but it was but a shell directed by the Dark King’s unnatural power.
Stevin's distraction almost cost him dearly as he only just avoided the Once-man’s blow. He parried the next, the sound of metal grating on metal far too loud to Stevin's ears and he knew he had to destroy the Once-man before the fight attracted the patrol, for Stevin knew he would stand no chance against that many Once-men.
He stepped back, disengaging from the Once-man and paused, this was a man he had once looked up to. He shook his head, knowing that the man Maarkis had once been would have asked him to put him down. Stevin took a deep breath, choked on the reek, and aimed a thrust at it, hoping to fell it quickly. He winced when his blade split its bloated belly open like an overripe melon, it’s half-rotten and strangely warm intestines slithered from the gash to tangle around its feet and over Stevin's. The Once-man didn’t even seem to notice as it swung at Stevin, who barely blocked the strike as he almost tripped over the slimy mess. He swore as he changed his grip, thrusting deep into the Once-man’s chest, hoping his sword was stronger than the creature’s rusting armour. He heard the teeth-grating squeal his blade made as it penetrated the armour to render the Once-man’s unbeating heart in two. He felt a wave of gratitude flow over him as he ended the Once-man’s unnatural existence and released Maarkis’ spirit from the Dark King’s control. It took some effort to wrench his sword free and Stevin winced at the shrill grate of metal on metal. He still took a moment to wipe his blade clean on the tattered remains of the Once-man’s clothing as he muttered a quick pray to send Maarkis’ freed spirit on its way to the Elements.
He listened intently for any sign that the fight had been heard and cursed his luck when a steady tramp-tramp reached his ears. All caution forgotten, Stevin turned and ran as if the Dark King himself was at his heels, and considering what was chasing him, it might as well have been.
Stevin cursed, knowing the Once-men would be hunting him now and that they would never stop. Unlike him, they never needed to rest and never tired. He glanced towards the sea, knowing he would have time to reach it before the Once-men caught him. He knew the sea would stop the Dark King’s powers, for Water was life as the Dark King was death. The problem was that he’d be trapped there, his only choices would be to either meet the Once-men in combat he could never win or try to swim to safety. As both choices would inevitably result in his death, Stevin knew he’d have to take his chances and make for The Wall, hoping to the Elements that he reached it before the Once-men caught up with him.
He knew he had to conserve his energy, and even though every instinct cried out at him to run faster, Stevin slowed down. He hoped he had enough of a lead on his hunters that he’d reach The Wall before them. Even then, he could feel exhaustion sapping his strength and he knew his steps were slowing despite his best efforts, but he couldn’t stop. He might need to rest but those hunting him would never rest, never sleep, they’d just follow him every minute of the day and night until they caught him or he reached The Wall.
He wondered for a moment if it might be better to make a stand when he still had the strength to raise his sword. No, he knew what happened to those who met the Dark King’s forces and fell beneath their blades, only to rise once more to do the enemy’s bidding. If he had to die, the sea would be a quicker, cleaner death. No, he shook his head, the information he had was too important, he had to get back to The Wall and warn them about the Dark King’s new creatures.
Stevin almost cried out in relief when he finally spotted The Wall jutting skywards. Oh, he knew it was still so far away, that he might not reach it in time, but it gave him hope. It gave him renewed strength and he moved with increased purpose. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder to check on his lead and swore when he realised the Once-men would catch up with him almost within reach of The Wall.
He had planned to reach one of the few heavily guarded gates which pierced The Wall but swore when he realised he’d stumbled off-course in his exhaustion. He knew he’d never reach a gate in time nor be able to climb it, for it was dozens of yards high and had been made in ages past, the very stones said to have been melted slick-smooth by Dragon’s fire. He cursed his luck, to have made it this close only to fail. He shook his head and dredged up the last of his strength, he hadn’t failed yet and he refused to surrender now he was so close.
“Move, Haart!”
Stevin almost stopped at that cry, not having realised he’d reached The Wall. He heard a familiar whoosh and swung around to see several of his pursuers with flaming arrows sticking in them; the rusting armour hanging loosely from their shrivelled forms doing little to protect them. Still, they moved forwards, seemingly unaware and unconcerned that they were aflame, their bent swords and battered shields ready to meet Stevin in combat and he drew his own blade to sell his life dearly.
“Bloody hell, Haart!”
That same, well-known voice yelled from nearer and Stevin tore his gaze from the Once-men to look up, blinking before grinning. Only Jhaan Layle would be mad enough to walk down The Wall on a rope to rescue him. Stevin half-ran, half-staggered towards him, grabbing the harness Layle tossed to him and struggled to put it on as tremors ran through his abused muscles. As the nearest Once-man stretched a smouldering hand towards him, fingers dropping to shrivel and burn on the dusty ground, Stevin finally managed to secure the straps and heard Layle shout to pull them up. He felt the Once-man grip his boot and he kicked out desperately to free himself, feeling his foot impact and sink into its rotten face. He felt another hand grab him, the weight threatening to drag him back down to his death and worse.
The rope juddered before Stevin was pulled upwards, inch by inch as the two Once-men clung to his boots. He could feel them clawing their way up his legs, and he struggled to kick them free before their teeth could sink into his defenceless flesh.
“Stevin! Stop bloody squirming.”
If he had had the breath to spare, Stevin would have asked how Vynn would have loved a Once-man getting that close to his crown jewels. The rope suddenly dropped him a few feet before jarring to a halt and he grimaced as the straps caught him uncomfortably. The only good news was he felt the Once-men grip slither down his legs until they were once more hanging onto his boots.
He flinched when an arrow whistled past his ear and buried itself in the near skinless skull of the Once-man he’d kicked in the face, it tilted what was left of that face upwards and took another arrow in an empty eye-socket. More arrows rained down until the Once-men resembled hedgehogs but they continued to cling to him, their bony fingers still clawing at his legs as they resumed their climb up his body. He kicked out, hoping to dislodge them and felt one slip down, its rotten flesh parting from its bones to stain Stevin's leather trousers before it fell to the ground, impacting with a squelch as its rotten flesh seemed to explode from its bones. Stevin watched in horror as it dragged its mangled, broken form mindlessly back onto its feet and stare up at him in hunger.
That still left Stevin in the precarious position of being half-way up The Wall with a determined Once-man’s teeth once more getting far too close to his groin for his liking. He kicked out again, almost crying out when an arrow pierced his thigh.
He continued to wiggle in an attempt to shake the Once-man off when he felt himself dragged over the battlements of The Wall and a sword swung at the Once-man, taking its head clean off. “Bloody hell!” Stevin cried when the blade buried itself just shy of his groin and he looked up into the dangerous green eyes of the soldier wielding it.
“Neyll never misses,” Layle informed him.
“Still too fucking close,” Stevin muttered.
“Better my blade than its teeth,” Neyll said, wiping his sword clean on a scrap of clothing before kicking the Once-man’s head back over The Wall.
“True, you have my thanks,” Stevin agreed, clasping Neyll’s hand in gratitude. He hissed as that movement jarred his leg. “I need to see the Council.”
“You need to see Aawyn,” Layle countered. “He will remove the arrow and bind the wound.”
“I can see both at the same time,” Stevin insisted. “My news can’t wait.”
“Aawyn won’t be happy,” Layle said before glancing up at a commotion. “But then, neither is Neq.”
“Stevin,” Neq called out as he rushed over, his eyes widening at the arrow protruding from his lover’s thigh. “Who…”
“Neq!” Stevin grabbed Neq and tugged him in for a kiss. “They saved my life.”
Neq meet his gaze before subsiding and he nodded somewhat begrudgingly to the soldiers. “My thanks.” His eyes flickered around the battlements before he demanded, “And where’s Aawyn?”
“Here, if you’d get out of the way, Neq Quta,” Aawyn said, settling down to check Stevin's leg and frowning at the stains on his trousers. “Neyll, help me cut these off.”
“Here?” Stevin almost squeaked.
“Unless you’d like Once-man ichor in your veins?” Aawyn replied matter-of-factly, pausing to look up to see Stevin’s paling face. “I thought not. Neyll?”
“Aawyn?” Neq asked, worry clear in his voice.
“The ichor stain is below the wound, Neq,” Stevin tried to reassure his lover, even as fear gripped his heart once more. If the ichor entered his blood stream… he swallowed, before repeating, “I must see the Council. Now!” He had to meet with them, to tell report what he had seen, just in case he was infected. He had to see them before it might be too late, both for him and for the lands south of The Wall.
Layle clasped Stevin's hand. “We’ll move you once Aawyn's finished and I’ll pass on your message to see the Council to Queen Jaeni herself.” He clapped Neq on the back before showing both of them his hands, his thumbs untouched… and Stevin just hoped they stayed that way.
