Avishraa Reloaded

How were they doing it?

Despite every turn and twist her companions made, every attempt by Tikke and Unitti to take their cart along paths that few used regularly, all around them were futures in which they were surrounded by takmar with blades and exalted expressions… and a strange faded figure whose touch could turn things to black mist.

Yet the pattern of those futures was not one of people led by an oracle. It was reactive. They could tell where the party was, even at a distance of many kilometers, but not where it would be. She knew of no magic, none at all, that fit such a description. And while it was slightly comforting to think that, given enough space and enough speed, such pursuers might be outmaneuvered, the party had neither. The terrain around them had become very hilly, shading into the mountains ahead in the distance, and their foes stood in their path.

The surest way to avoid them was to turn around and go back.

Evrith had searched through possibilities and found no good choices. But she had discovered what their pursuers were tracking, and, if nothing else, it meant that there was the possibility to limit the casualties… if she could convince the others.

They had stopped to camp, as they had regularly for the past two sixes of rests. The sun was near the zenith of its slow journey across the sky, so there was no need of light, but Unitti had built a small fire for cooking. Evrith had been staring into it silently for some time.

At last, as Tikke fussed over some thinly sliced meat he was cooking in a pan over the flames, Evrith spoke, suddenly and quietly: “I think perhaps I should consider going on alone.”

Evrith could practically witness the protest ripple through An-uxhwi, his body language not at all subtle. It was almost as though she'd said something outrageous. But it wouldn't have been An-uxhwi if he hadn't hesitated before speaking, and did so with careful consideration: “What happens if you continue on your own?” His tone wasn't hiding his suspicion.

Evrith did not look at him; her gaze remained on the fire, or at least in its direction. Her expression tensed, in the manner of one preparing for a struggle.

“It would be the difference,” she replied, trying to put some steel in her voice, “between them doing unpleasant things to all of us and doing them to one of us. If I go separately, they'll follow me, not any of you.”

Tikke and Unitti glanced at each other. Though their aid - and their cart - had been quite useful, Evrith had never been quite clear on their reasons for accompanying the other three this far, even after being informed of their distant pursuers. She was increasingly of the opinion that they wanted something, but whatever it was, they hadn't dared to ask for it yet.

They looked uncertain - they were survivors, and mindless bravery was not a survival trait - and muttered to each other in their own language, but to her despair it sounded like they were trying to work themselves up to something. While they talked, she finally turned toward An-uxhwi with an air of resignation.

An-uxhwi either paid no attention to the other xtauh or, at the very least, gave their mutual glances no further thought. Evrith's elaborations had an air of finality to them he didn't like - none of the options were 'and we evade them' or 'and we defeat them'.

On the other hand, 'unpleasant things' did not sound like it implied death. Enslavement, as in the mines? He'd certainly rather fight to the death before he let either himself or Evrith land in that state again.

Still, it could be a euphemism. “What are your chances in surviving the encounter on your own?” An-uxhwi asked, still maintaining a sceptical air.

“Should they catch up with me…” She paused.

It would be much easier to lie. Lying would probably solve a large number of problems. It would've solved even more if she'd just started off by lying. But she'd done that, once - lied about the future to make someone choose other than they would have - and both he and she had paid for it. Were still paying for it. It made her ill to think of doing that again.

“They want something from me,” Evrith continued, reluctantly. “I don't know what. They will try to force me to give it to them. But once they have it - or realize that they won't get it - they do not want me alive. But,” she pushed on, watching his expression carefully, “I might be able to fight my way out.”

That wasn't a lie. Just very, very unlikely.

Unsurprisingly, An-uxhwi was not willing to let her off easily. “And if we stay with you? Does that increase your chances?” he asked, staring at her intently.

She tried very hard to meet his gaze, though it made her eyes water a bit. “A bit. Not appreciably.”

Shyriath, who up until this point had been watching almost as intently as An-uxhwi, chose this moment to speak. “These people are ahead of us? Between us and the pass?” At her slight nod, he continued, “It would be a very long detour, but there are other paths across the mountains, so if we turned-”

“It would take too long-” Evrith began, then stopped, a moment of indecision crossing her face. It would be too long, but explaining why that was important was not something she wanted to get into. And, after all, it was still a better chance of survival - for all of them - than going forward. Then again-

In a more subdued voice, she continued, “I don't think it would work, not in the long run. They would be on our heels the whole way through difficult terrain.”

An-uxhwi considered what Evrith was saying, coming to parse it as that she would not be able to outrun her pursuers indefinitely. It really was no question at all for him - he would stay with her, even if it only budged her chances by a measly percent or two. He still owed it to her.

“Is there anything at all we can do in preparation to bolster our chances?” he asked, stubbornly. 'Our' chances was, of course, telling - he wasn't even pretending to entertain the idea of letting her off on her own. Maybe she could, with sufficient insistence, force him to leave by way of commanding it, but it surely wouldn't be easy.

It hadn't seemed likely that he would agree. She hadn't expected him to. Evrith told herself that perhaps it was a desire to see the world saved, and she hoped it was, because knowing that he was doing it for her sake would be more than she could bear. She blinked the wetness out of her eyes, and gave Shyriath a challenging glare.

The green shrugged in a resigned fashion. “No point avoiding death if the end of the world is coming, is there?”

She glanced at the other xtauh, but Tikke was already speaking up, with what sounded - and, at least to An-uxhwi, somewhat looked like - false bravado. “We go along a bit longer,” he said, sticking out his chest a bit. “We not good fighters, but we tricky. Maybe help.”

Evrith nodded gloomily. She didn't trust herself to respond, because the words lined up in her brain said: I'm going to get you all killed.

An-uxhwi glanced into the distance, as though it might yield some further insight to their strange, nameless enemies that had Evrith so rattled. “Could we get some assistance? The other Soakers– takmar. They do not like us, but perhaps if we time it right, and they like these other people even less, we could have temporary allies?” Or meat shields in a horrific magical battle, at least - not that An-uxhwi was all that much more useful.

“It would be difficult…” Evrith murmured. Her eyes focused on the future again. “It would require them to believe us about the ones who are pursuing us. And to be able to recognize them if they come, because most of them are not well-known enough. And there are enough enemies to make trouble for the kinds of small settlements to be found around here. They would have to like us much better than they like the others…”

She hesitated, then looked at Tikke and Unitti. “There are xtauh living in these parts too, I think. How well do you know them?”

Tikke, once again, looked somewhat offended at the term 'xtauh'. “There some few of the People here,” he replied, emphasizing the word. “Was many more once, so say storytellers. But giants drove many People away. Those left not like giants, even tiny magic-giants.

“We know some. Some very well. We, er…” Tikke paused, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. “We have hope to stop and see one band, and have you talk with them about a thing. Maybe we convince them to help against enemies, but they not so close. Maybe two vigils, up there.” He pointed southeast, toward a precipitous-looking spur jutting out from the hills, looming over the landscape.

It wasn't far in a straight line, but getting up it… yes, it wasn't hard to imagine it taking two vigils. At least.

“I don't think there's anyone blocking the way yet, but if they catch us while we're making our way up, we're going to have a bad time,” Evrith mused. “Perhaps if we leave the cart and the supplies and fly-” she stopped, and glanced at An-uxhwi's wing, which still had a truly ugly bruise on it. ”Can you fly?“

Could he fly? An-uxhwi craned his neck to look at his wing, as though the visual assessment were worth more than the obvious proprioceptive and nociceptive cues. He could force himself to fly. It would be painful. The wing wasn't so damaged that it was at risk of ripping entirely in the winds, but it would certainly get increasingly strained and sore.

But if they started flying and it turned out to be too much, they would just lose time, likely more than just the spurt of flying as they tried to nurse him back to health, given the associated landing wasn't likely to be a good one.

“I should manage over a short distance, but I don't trust myself to manage the way up,” he said, some regret in his voice. “But that doesn't need to stop us - I could go to a place in one of the books and you could carry it with you.”

Evrith blinked. For all that acquiring the books had been her idea, they remained a bit of a blind spot; she could not see into the future through them, though the same could not be said of the past. Tikke had explored the one with the grasslands - he and Shyriath had endeavored to lighten the cart's load by moving supplies into it - and Shyriath had looked into one of the others, but the rest of them had been too busy keeping the cart moving to join in.

It was certainly a less dangerous idea than making An-uxhwi fly up there. And if she and An-uxhwi remained with the cart while the others went to get help, it would only make them more vulnerable in the meantime.

“I suppose you're right,” she murmured.

“We will pick up cart again later?” Tikke asked, though 'asked' might not have been the right word; traveling with An-uxhwi had slowly accustomed Evrith to certain xtauh expressions, but the one Tikke was using was one she wasn't familiar with. The tone of voice, however, included a certain pugnaciousness that suggested that replying 'no' was going to cause problems.

“If we can. But most of the supplies are in the book anyway, aren't they?” she ventured. Tikke replied, stubbornly, “Is our cart.”

An-uxhwi smiled gently at Tikke's possessiveness. It took him a moment to identify why it brought him joy: Here was a xtauh in takmar lands, speaking of his possessions. The workers in the mine where he had met Evrith would never have taken to such a turn of a phrase. “We will do our best,” he promised, meaning it with sincerity, and not at all ashamed to speak for the others.

Evrith wasn't nearly as certain as An-uxhwi sounded that they'd be in a position to retrieve the cart, but she decided not to speak up. It could happen. And, anyway, discouraging the help of Tikke and Unitti at this point was probably a bad move.

“Then if that's how we're going to do this, we may as well get started,” she announced, rummaging around in the pack containing the books. She took out the one they'd been using to transfer the supplies to, and opened it to the front page; the lines inked onto the paper gently twisted and moved, suggesting a field of grass undulating in the wind. She held it out to An-uxhwi. “Once you go through, the rest of us will take off.”

An-uxhwi allowed himself a few seconds to watch the ink dance across the page. It had been a while since he'd even heard of this, much less seen it. It wasn't something his immediate people would have done with the art, but the enchantment nonetheless kindled a spark of a sense of home.

An affirmative gesture later, he reached out and disappeared.

After a few minutes of gathering up the few things that needed gathering, one by one, the other took off. Evrith clutched the book tightly even as she wheezed her way into the air; she had never been the strongest flier.

Off to their south, from various places, barely visible in the fading light, various shapes began rising from the trees.

For An-uxhwi, the world and the faces of his companions spun away, pulled into a shifting void; but in its place, something new spun into existence.

When it settled around him, he found himself… it wasn't a cave, really, so much as a rock overhang, protecting a small area from the elements. There was a small shelf crudely carved into the wall, on which lay the book that presumably led back to his own world; on the floor, incised in thin, deep lines, was a symbol matching one he'd previously seen in the book that led here.

Once he stepped out from beneath the overhang, he found himself on a kind of wide stone shelf overlooking a vast landscape. There was a dense, ragged line of trees bordering a stream in the distance, but it merely bisected what was a vast, nearly flat sea of grass. There was wind, pleasantly warm and gentle but constant, bringing the varied scents of a living landscape.

And above, the stars. But they were no stars that An-uxhwi knew… and there was among them no sign at all of the Gentle Eye.

The view of the sky gave him vertigo. It was like looking into floodwaters, as though a massive current were moving across the firmament, too far away for him to observe the breakneck speed. He knew it was an illusion, a false association, but his heart thundered against his chest in disregard for his feelings. A part of him wanted to look away, but it was easily silenced. Instead, he maintained a quiet stare, taking in the alien sky, marvelling at it in lieu of the technology that had brought him here. For a moment, it seemed as though this was what the Gate Wars had been about - the power to cross worlds. It lit his mind with imagination of what those times might have been like.

Somewhat adding to the sense of wonder, once he thought of it, was a story his mother had told him when he was young. It was about how the world was but one of the eggs of Daxelh, about which she lay curled; but she herself lived in a much larger world, much more pleasant than the desert in which his people lived, with green grass and water, much like this one, where those who lived decently might pass on to once they died-

Of course, this could not be that place. Whatever An-uxhwi might have thought about the possibility of mortals sneaking their way into the abode of Daxelh while still alive, he imagined that they would find it a bit more idealized if they did - and not, for example, being host to the cloud of gnats that appeared to be gathering around his head in a lazy cloud.

His gaze fixed on the sky, he eventually noticed that, in fact, the stars did seem to be moving across it. Of course, they did so in his own world, too, if you paid attention for long enough, but these were moving much, much faster - not quite enough to see from moment to moment, but enough that after a number of minutes one could tell that some were not the same distance from the horizon as they had been.

Behind An-uxhwi, as he watched the sky, someone faded into view in the same place he had arrived, and looked around in bewilderment.

Since it was a silent transition, An-uxhwi was at first oblivious to it. The motion of the stars had captured his attention, and he found himself trying to work out whether it was a cyclic motion or if this world was moving past the stars as one might pass pebbles while wandering on a straight path - and, if it was cyclic, what that might mean for this world's rhythms.

Behind him, the figure's gaze locked onto An-uxhwi, and it raised something that it had been carrying. It crept forward on its hindlegs, using its arms in a rhythmic motion.

An-uxhwi's first warning was a faint whirring of rope moving through air, and then some kind of weighted net began to descend over him. Behind him, the net-thrower dropped to all fours and began to charge.

Instinct seized An-uxhwi, dictating his motions. He threw himself half the side, half forward as the shadow the net appeared over him, tucking his wings in tight to roll away from the threat, his eyes wide, attention exploding into wide view. A warning sound, from his chest sounding much like an explosion of birdsong, barked through the air, in synchronicity with the thud of the weights on the net.

Most of him had avoided the construct - although not one of the weights, which had gifted his hip with another bruise to add to his others - and he squirmed and kicked it off the rest of his body as he might a decorative garment that had become abruptly annoying.

For an instant, he regretted not carrying weapons, then seized the edge of the net, gathering it up, its weights on the ground, the rest of it turning into a thick, awkward cord. His body tense and only just stable enough to do what he planned, he jerked the weights off the ground and swung them toward his charging assailant.

The figure - a brown takma male, by the look of it - was within only a few meters of An-uxhwi when the weights came hurtling back in his direction, and was taken somewhat by surprise. He jerked aside in time to avoid being smashed in the side of the head, but the motion sent him tumbling, and he snarled as he tried to hook his claws into An-uxhwi from a prone position.

Another figure appeared in the vicinity of the book. It glanced around, saw the ongoing contest, and began to stride purposefully but unhurriedly toward it.

One thing the xtauh did better than the takmar was agility. The claws struck nothing. Instead, the makeshift flail yanked back before the brown takma could change his target and snag it, and, drenched in adrenaline, An-uxhwi hefted it again and swung, fully intending to whack him across the head.

He hadn't yet found the time to panic, but he could feel it rising. That there was a second takma here now already tipped the odds firmly in his disfavour - if there was a third, he could hope to do little other than try to fly away, and that was the one thing he'd meant to avoid by coming here.

The question what they might want or where they were coming from didn't even arise. He was too busy surviving.

The brown takma managed, just barely, to roll aside as the weight struck. The look on his face suggested that, whatever kind of resistance he'd expected, it hadn't really covered this. He tried to scramble upward before another weight could come his way.

The other figure stopped immediately outside easy swinging range. It was about the right size for another male takma, but An-uxhwi found it hard to make out any further details; he, if it was a he, seemed to blend into the night. He regarded An-uxhwi, head cocked to one side.

A somber voice said: “This will not help you, you know.”

More animal than person, An-uxhwi snarled across at the new character that had appeared, antennae curved in tight, aggressive attention. The words reached him and he parsed them with something that stood in for intellect, but it was unclear what 'this' would or would not help, and so it fell by the mental wayside, discarded as waste, not worth responding to.

He took a step back from both of the attackers, his breath heavy and rapid, clutching at his makeshift weapon, fully willing to use it again if either of them came within range.

The brown takma, staying well out of reach, began inching his way around so that he and his companion would be on opposite sides, but the indistinct figure halted him with a gesture. A hand withdrew the linking book from the darkness, and it was much more visible than the hand that held it.

“You have nowhere to go,” he intoned softly, pushing the book back where he'd had it - possibly he was wearing some kind of robe. “I have the way back. And, even were you to take it from me, we have the other book as well; you would be surrounded and captured should you come through.”

The other book felt very far away. Without numbers to the threat, An-uxhwi's state discounted 'surrounded and captured'. Without hard proof that they had even come from where Evrith was, rather than some other place that also led here, he wasn't willing to take their word for the other book, anyway.

But that the indistinct takma had the book that allowed passage to Avishraa, that was tangible and real, and a threat that made his heart ache gently. Evrith!

“Give it to me,” he demanded, with an eerie fire of authority, ancient parts of his mind working out the angles at which to run forward to swing his weapon at this new threat. As long as they wanted to get to Evrith and the others, they wouldn't harm the book itself. He could fight them for it. A different part of him pointed out that he was likely going to lose. He ignored it.

The figure withdrew the book again, and examined it. “Oh, I see,” he said. “You would like to have this?”

He opened the cover, looked solemnly at it, and then touched a claw-tip to one corner. At first it was difficult to see what was happening; something like a faint wisp of smoke or black mist appeared, carried away by the breeze. But it soon became clear that the cover was disappearing, as if it were being burned away without heat or light.

The brown takma cried out, but the dark figure ignored him. “If you submit,” he said - gravely, without audible hostility - “I can stop the consumption. But if you would like to take the book from me, you have only so long to manage the feat.”

A soft noise escaped An-uxhwi as the dissolution began, some cousin of a distressed squeak. He clutched at the net until the knuckles of his hands hurt, his posture frozen, eyes wide with horror. He was dimly aware he had an ally in maintaining the book's integrity in the brown takma, whose own protest gave the whole scene a dangerous credibility, but there was no coordinating with someone you'd only just been on murderous terms with. He might as well have disappeared entirely.

For a brief moment, he flirted with the idea of executing the assault his mind had planned out, dive for the book before it was damaged beyond the ability to return him to Evrith, link out before they could stop him, but he could feel the window shrinking, the error margins compounding at a drastic pace, even as his instincts tried to keep track of them.

His heart hammered in his chest, seeming to hurt from exertion. “Please,” he said, softly, and dropped the net, raising his hands and splaying his fingers, making it clear it was not an easy matter to pick his weapon back up. He was still ready to run, at least, if the book was destroyed, but fervently hoped it wasn't. He was still ready to run even if the book was not destroyed, for that matter, although his heart was certainly not in it.

Only slowly did a suitably intellectual part of his mind catch up to ask: How? A partial answer was 'magic', but purely by itself that was no answer at all.

The dark figure gently jerked his head toward the net, which the brown takmar, still looking frightened, dragged out of An-uxhwi's range; then, with a gentle gesture, the wisp of black mist cleared, and the book's cover ceased to diminish. “Good,” the figure said. “Now: will you cooperate in being bound?”

It had taken a long time for the question to surface in his mind, but it was finally here: What do you want? He dragged his tongue across the roof of his mouth, trying to self-soothe, not at all calmed by the insight that they evidently wanted him alive. “What's going to happen?” he asked, in lieu of the more generic question. If they were just going to truss him up to slaughter him more comfortably, maybe it was better to flee or struggle. Granted, they probably wouldn't tell him that, but the indistinct takma had an air of confidence; it let An-uxhwi hope an answer might be truthful. For now he took a step back, purely to make his apprehension unmistakably clear - not that it honestly needed clarifying.

“We desire information,” the figure replied. “I would prefer, with a minimum of fuss, to have you taken back through - safely restrained - to help us obtain it - either through your own answers or through those of one with whom we have been attempting to communicate. I might be persuaded to free you once we have what we want.”

He glanced down at the book again. “Of course, if you would prefer to remain here, I can destroy the book and leave. Your cooperation would be useful in resolving certain questions, but I can do without answers if I must.”

Either through your own answers or through those of one with whom we have been attempting to communicate. It didn't take much cognitive capacity to resolve that in his mind's eye: Evrith, in pain, somehow prevented from escaping - or, worse, choosing not to escape, in some belief that the suffering was just, or the least of all evils.

He had to get to her. He owed her that much. The only alternative in the current situation was to flee and abandon her - and he remembered quite intensely that he had promised not to do that.

He said nothing, but he stayed still, signalling that there would be no fight.

The dark figure inclined his head, and the brown takma began wrapping An-uxhwi up in the net - possibly with more vehemence than was strictly required, at least until a meaningful cough from the dark figure prompted him to take more care. It appeared that this… person, whoever and whatever he was, was in charge, and that he intended for things to remain civil. At least for the moment.

Though he was not entirely uncomfortable, it was clear that An-uxhwi's binding was intended to be thorough; his legs were wrapped up as well as any of the rest of him, and as the book was placed back where it had previously rested, the brown takma slung the xtauh over his shoulder like a sack and carried him over to it. A moment of disorientation later, the world reformed around him, and there, in the sky, was Daxelh's Gentle Eye, still in the process of opening.

He was in a small clearing. A small fire, lit in its center, revealed a number of takmar, men and women, most of them armed and all looking very wary; not a few of them had evidently raised their weapons as their compatriots and their prisoner appeared, and were only slowly lowering them. Many of them wore a carved wooden pendant with an unpleasantly sinuous pattern on it.

As he was carried over to a fallen tree and lashed to its trunk with rope, he noticed two things. The first was that Evrith did not seem to be present. The second, as the dark figure came over to him, was that what An-uxhwi might have thought was simply due to poor visibility was anything but. The people next to him were illuminated well enough by the firelight; the figure, however, was still swathed in shadow, as if the light was failing to fall on him. Only slightly more detail could be seen; his muzzle and face were visible, if only barely, though his eyes reflected no light.

“Your companion has been leading us a merry chase,” he commented, in the same somber tones. “It was evident from the size that she - or at least some have said it was a she - is a witch. But I am curious to know what manner of power she has.”