Cast Your Green Kirtle Owr MeIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Cast Your Green Kirtle Owr Me [continued from Into the Woods and Glimmergloom] There was a sudden shift and shimmer in the air—and suddenly two figures stood in the centre of the grove with them, one of each of their arms around each other. "You have great powers of summoning," said the Lady. "For you invoked True Thomas and here he stands before you, Tam Lin himself. And the other, I judge, is your sister. Advise her that she is too generous in her embraces. Tam Lin is mine." Jurt, his skin pale against pitch black hair and brows, nodded his gratitude for the Lady's kind words. He sat astride a dappled grey and was dressed in wispy layers as the other nobles of Glimmergloom, his purple. He wore his own blade at the hip, in its heavy black leather scabbard, and rested a hand on the pommel as he took in the new arrivals. Looking quite different from when they last saw her at the state dinner, Helena gazed at them with wide eyes from a very tired face. Strands of pale hair had pulled away from her braid and hung limply along her neck, and her loose white shirt clung to her chest and arms, heavy with sweat. She wore tan breeches, soft boots, and a sword in scabbard belted around her hips. Helena quickly surveyed the group on horseback, taking in the Sidhe and Jurt and the very surprising presence of her sister and Petra. Her gaze settled on her sister and she whispered, "Ness...?" Then duty and responsibility caught up with her. She grabbed Thomas's wrist and held it high as she turned to address the Lady. "Thomas is mine. I claim him, and none will take him from me." Tam Lin smiled; he was tall and whipcord-thin and pale, and his grin had entirely too many sharp teeth. He had the features of the Sidhe, and he was clad in what appeared to be boiled leather armor, cunningly worked to look like leaves and branches. He was not armed. His hair was short and spiky and snow-white. He looked quite as tired and disheveled as Helena, though his sardonic smile proclaimed that he thought the whole thing some grand joke. "Ah, look," he breathed. "The Hunt entire is here. All the Houses represented, save Oak. Here comes a candle to light me to bed, here comes a chopper..." He raised his voice. "What makes you pull those branches, eh? What makes you pull those boughs? What makes you walk through these green fields without leave of me?" But despite his outward attitude, he leaned, nearly sagged, against Helena. "Cousin," Jurt began before correcting, "Niece, perhaps Tam Lin has other obligations before yours. I'm quite certain that the Lady has precedence in most matters here. I'm sure we can all talk this out." Helena laughed sardonically and tightened her grip on Thomas. On a black horse, Petra was dressed in the robes of the Sidhe, decorated with artful touches of gold. She looked much the same as she usually did otherwise; except for the fawn in a sling in front of her on the horse. She had apparently decided it was easier to just let this new turn of events roll over her. She gave Helena a smile as she continued stroking the fawn to keep it calm. Clytemnestra was turned away when the two appeared, holding out the rug from the bower bench to the hunt, and so she wasn't sure what had happened at first. When she turned to look, the rug dropped, forgotten, to the ground. Her face turned from astonishment to delight. "Nell!" she shrieked, and threw herself across the clearing, sandals flying off and Sidhe robes fluttering behind her, and wrapped Helena (and incidentally bits of Thomas too) in an embrace that would have broken a mortal's ribs. Clytemnestra nearly knocked them both over. Helena firmly kept her grip on Thomas, but returned Ness' embrace with her free arm. A moment later she leaned away a bit, drinking in Helena's weary form with her eyes, stroking her disheveled hair. Quite unselfconsciously she announced to her identical twin sister, "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen." Then she kissed her, passionately, on the lips. Helena's eyes grew even wider than they had at finding the party here in the grove. She put a restraining hand on Clytemnestra's chest and fell back a step, bemused and utterly overwhelmed by the culmination of events of the last few hours. "Wh-what? Ness? We're sisters." "And now," said the Lady, "I claim my own. Come to me, Tam Lin, for your doom is foretold." Thomas grinned as if it were a poor joke, but the smile vanished as his feet began to move. "Crap," he said, watching himself walk forward. "No!" Helena shouted, forgetting about Ness momentarily. She pulled Thomas back to her. "He's mine!" A dreamy smile remained on Ness's face. So ecstatic was she over the reunion that she seemed unaware of what was going on around her. She clung to the hand Helena had used to push her back, holding it over her heart, even as Helena clung desperately to Thomas. With everyone else's attention on Tam Lin and the twins, Petra took the opportunity to try the only thing she knew that might help; she leaned down over the fawn as if to protect it and tried to discretely withdraw a Trump—preferably one of her place Trumps. The fawn turned slightly in her arms and gave her a look of adoring love. And then suddenly, the fawn was gone, and she was holding her cards in her hands once more—although the pack felt a little thicker. A swift glance around the clearing suggested that everyone else was so firmly riveted on the encounter with Tam Lin that not one of them had seen the transformation. Petra bit her tongue to keep from cursing out loud as she smoothly hid the deck in her robes. She hung the now empty sling from her saddle horn so that it hung from the side away from the possibly dangerously irritated Lady of the Sidhe. She didn't fancy getting caught rifling through the deck at the moment. She still seemed to be unobserved...except...it was an odd feeling—but there seemed to be eyes behind her, watching her...she could feel them. She thought for a moment it might just be the bug in her hair, but then Petra surreptitiously looked back over her shoulder. Just in case. There were some surprises she just didn't care for. She saw Robin leaning against a tree, watching. He winked at her. But when she look again, it was only a bough broken from the tree, the end nearest the ground saggy with moss. The insect buzzed softly in her hair. "Ishtar!" Jurt snapped, blue eyes burning with controlled anger. "If you have a claim upon the gentle man, my dealings have lead me to understand that the Lady has a reasonable manner and the courtesy to hear such, but now is neither the time nor place for you to lay it before her." Despite the situation, despite the danger, Thomas broke out into a fit of uncontrollable, sarcastic giggling. "Who? Her? She must have given you the drink of moonlight and dewdrops." Helena glared at her uncle. "You don't know what you're talking about!" "Poor child," said the Lady compassionately. "How he has imposed on her!" "My apologies for my niece's behavior, mi'Lady," Jurt offered with a bow from the saddle. "Perhaps these items are better discussed in more discrete surroundings?" "That may be possible," said the Lady. "But not while he remains in the girl's arms." She turned her attention to Ness, and the timbre of her voice was such that it cut through Ness's reverie. "If you really wish to keep your sister safe and unharmed, my lady, you should remove her from that...man. He is dangerous to youth and beauty such as hers, you know." She smiled mockingly at Thomas. "Aren't you, Tam Lin?" Ness looked from Helena to Thomas and back, confusion starting to replace adoration on her face. "Nell?" she asked. "What's going on? Who is he?" Thomas's head swiveled around to Clytemnestra. "Hers, milady. And only a danger," turning back to the Lady, "to those who wish me to be. By the way, this Seelie's youth and beauty are eternal. Unlike...yours." But Thomas had a muscle tic, speaking as if against some great effort. "His name is Thomas," Helena answered her sister, "and he saved me on the stairs when Tir disappeared." Helena turned to glare at the Lady on the horse. "And now she wants to sacrifice him in an attempt to appease Oberon who has been dead this past century!" "Oh, there are other reasons," said the Lady. Helena raised her chin and addressed the Lady directly. "Killing Thomas will not get you through the Barrier Oberon set between the Sidhe and Amber. And tonight I claim Thomas as mine, thwarting your own claim on him and setting him free from you forever. You hunt for naught." The Lady's eyes hardened. "And are you aware of what you hold, child?" And she pointed at Thomas. Jurt turned and watched the rest of the hunters' reactions, specifically the Maiden and the Singer. The Singer was staring, fascinated, at the conflict before him. The Maiden was looking at Jurt, anxiously. When she saw him look in her direction she began to nudge her mount closer to him. The Singer was oblivious. Petra made a face at Robin then turned back around, almost startling herself out of the saddle when she saw what was going on. "Great Goddess among us," she breathed in shock. Then she nudged her horse back a couple of paces, and lowered her head to hiss lowly to the bug in her hair while still looking for a place card. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" "You could watch," said Pan's voice softly. "Or...you could come with me... " "We can't just abandon them," Petra hissed. Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a loud hiss, like steam leaking from a pipe. He managed a wide-eyed glance at Helena before he twisted unnaturally and a series of loud pops and snaps came from his spine. It was unlike any shape-changing Helena had seen from him before; Thomas looked equal parts infuriated and in great pain. It was obvious that he was fighting every shift in his body, and that the effort was completely wasted. His face lengthened, fangs erupted in a shower of blood, his body stretched... Helena watched Thomas in revulsant fascination, her grip tight on what appeared would eventually be his tail. ...six, eight, ten feet, and the skin peeled off to show rough scales underneath. He was the color of the grove, brown and green and black and rose-red, and his coils settled about Helena with some kind of horrid affection. Venom dripped off the fangs to hiss and smoke on the ground. He began to squeeze her, Helena's arms and legs turning slowly red, then purple under the effort. The huge fangs were only inches away from her face. And the eyes, perhaps the worst thing of all, the eyes remained that of the Thomas she remembered. And yet... Despite the constriction and the coils all around her, squeezing her, the coil around her neck remained slack... Ness watched in horror as the thing wrapped itself around her sister, then threw herself upon it, wrapping her hands just behind its head in an attempt to keep it from striking. She could feel the scaled muscles twisting free under her grip. With a last desperate effort, she attempted to wrench the snake's gaze to meet her own. "Ness, no!" Helena shouted, though the effort cost her a good lungful of air. Passive while Thomas wrapped himself around her and squeezed, she now struggled against the coils. Though Thomas assured her he would not harm her, she didn't know whether or not that applied to others. The Lady watched, a whipcord of a smile on her lips. Then come, you fairies! dance with me a round, The snake head began to turn in Clytemnestra's hands; it took a great effort, a horrible effort, but eventually the huge head was nearly turned around, quivering, so that she could meet its gaze. It opened its mouth and hissed; hissed again. Almost like language it was, but a wasted effort. A drop of venom burned into her clothing. Then, there was a slight shift, and her hands sank into the scaly skin. It was tough, still, but pliable, like grabbing a double handful of silly putty. Then the skin hardened again, trapping both of Cly's hands within the snake's huge head. Its jaw opened wider, unhinged, ready to settle over at least half of Cly's body. Ness was gazing deep into Thomas's eye as the head lowered over her... slowly... Helena closed her eyes, focusing on bringing up the Tail. But, for the first time since she had learned the skill, the Tail failed her. Across the clearing, the Lady gave a hiss and pointed a long white arm, a blood red nail on her finger pointing straight at...Thomas... Catching the movement from the corner of her eye, Petra shifted her gaze towards the bizarre tableaux before them. "This is going to end badly," she predicted in a dire tone and turned to observe Jurt. Surely he wasn't going to let this go much further. Jurt's mind ran a mile a minute watching the rest of the Court before he decided to intervene. He began anew the Lay of True Thomas that the Singer had taught him, throwing himself into the performance, one lung piping the harmony as his own voice carried the melody, clear and crisp through the wood, calling the fae back to himself. And the air...shimmered. The snake, which had begun to stop and stare at Clytemnestra in some kind of bond, suddenly reared its head and neck; her hands came free with a tearing sound. Ness gasped and drew a breath...her eyes unfocused as though she sought something...something just beyond her grasp... The Lady swung in her seat and stared hard at Ness. Similarly, the coils around Helena became dead weight, mostly falling to the ground. With the breaking of eye contact, Thomas hissed again; the sound slowly changed into a low rumble as his outer skin sloughed off. Feet formed, pushed out from the snake body, followed by legs. The same with front paws and arms. Hair sprouted, thickened, became a brown carpet. Helena maintained a hold, her hand full of fur. His body shortened by two feet, and thickened to five or six feet wide. The head shortened too, the fangs retreating, until finally a large brown bear stood before them all. It roared, its sound that of pain and anguish and fear; then it turned and hugged Helena with one arm to itself. The ursine head lunged downward. Jaws clamped shut. And a rivulet of dark blood began to seep down Helena's neck and down her arm. Helena exhaled in a sigh and closed her eyes, not resisting. The Maiden nudged her horse...closer to Jurt, who seemed rapt in his singing... The Singer was watching, a faint smile on his thin face. Ness continued groping for the Pattern, distracted from the changes going on around her as she focused her will on reaching just...a bit...further.... And then it was as though she burst through a membrane...a skin. And she was alone on a misty landscape, with vague outlines around her—which might be trees, or rocky outcroppings... There was no sight nor sound of Helena at all in the mist... But Helena and the rest could still see her clearly. Petra continued to stare at the scene, Trump search forgotten for the moment. Something nagged at the corner of her mind for the longest time before she finally exclaimed quietly. "Ooooh... Sorcha is going to be so jealous. Again." She ducked her head slightly to whisper to her bug. "How long does this test last?" "It depends, usually, on whether the love of the mortal woman is strong enough to prevail against the magics of the Fae," said the whispering voice. "In this case...does your young relative love Tam Lin? Or is there something she loves more? If so...will it distract her, or fix her concentration? For if either of them are distracted...they are exposed to the full power of the fae." And then there was a sudden, terrible sound... Helena jerked open her eyes... Ness shrieked in fury, but never released her grasp on the Pattern. "Take me back!" she shouted at it. "This isn't what I wanted! Damn you, take me back!" She poured all of her will, frustration, and rage into the Pattern, trying to force a way back to the glade. And to those around she seemed to writhe, like one in flames. "Ness!" Helena shouted, and struggled against Thomas to reach out toward her sister. And with this, Thomas raised his ursine head, leaving a bloody smear on Helena's neck. Several strange grunts came from him, a pitiful attempt at speech, and then he roared in frustration, clutching Helena to him. As Thomas brought Helena closer, his action sparked instant realization for her of two things: Ness's voice was angry, not hurting...and in her haste to go to sister's aid she'd almost let go of him. Helena blanched, her stomach turning over at the thought of what almost just happened. She grabbed Thomas' fur with her other hand too. The Lady's eyes blazed and she pointed at Thomas a third time ... Ness collapsed on the ground, weeping. "Not again," she sobbed. "Useless. So utterly useless." In a whisper she added, "I wish I was dead." Petra looked oddly at Ness but didn't dare call out or ask what was happening of fear of distracting Helena. She glanced over at the Lady and angled her head again to speak softly to her insect guide. "A lion's in there somewhere, si? Hot steel, molten...something really hot?" The bear threw his head back and roared; it turned into the ear-splitting shriek of protesting metal. The heavy fur burst into flame; somehow, Thomas turned so that Helena could avoid the worst of it. His shape wavered, shrunk, until she was holding a flaming bar of dark iron. But where Helena's hands sat, there was no heat; and in a last act of defiance, his shape wavered until it was bright steel. "Well spotted," said the quiet insect voice to Petra. "But not, I think, as the Lady would have wished..." Ness looked up quickly, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Who's there?" she asked hoarsely. Suddenly, Helena was holding a basket-hilted claymore, almost four feet of a wide, straight blade which burned with an eldritch green fire. There was no heat at the handle. She hefted the sword with both hands and pointed it offensively at the Lady, mindful that some in the party had bows. "Let him and my sister go. I claim Thomas and he is mine," she growled. The Lady laughed, cold and cruel. "Both? And what will you give me in return?" Jurt's piping stopped. "Name your desire, Lady," he commanded. Helena bit back her own sharp retort and said nothing, willing to let her uncle negotiate. She couldn't remember ever feeling as tired as she did right then—the last time she'd slept had been in her own bed in Ishtarways, what seemed like an eternity ago—and her arms holding up the claymore twitched with fatigue. The fire burned a little brighter, and perhaps there was a little warmth that came back to Helena from the sword, but mostly the green fire moved and roiled along the blade and dripped slowly down to the grass of the rose grove. It was much like watching dripping water. "My desire," said the Lady, "is that in return for her theft of Thomas—whose eyes I should have ripped from his head long ago!—she leaves blood of Amber in his place. Two may go—one must remain." The heat of the fire dropped considerably at the mention of his eyes, but the green fire still burned along the blade-that-was-Thomas. Interesting. The Lady did not recognize that Petra was family. Helena wondered fleetingly if she knew Thomas was—surely she did, or at least conceded the possibility, for surely there were rumors. Regardless, Helena had absolutely no intention of staying here in this accursed place, and absolutely no intention of leaving her sister behind to do so in her stead. "We're not staying," she replied flatly, though whether her statement was meant for Jurt or the Lady was unclear. Perhaps both. "Amba!?" Ness shouted. "My father is missing, my sister is being eaten by a bear, and you want I should rescue Amba? I don't even know what house you're talking about!" Helena startled at Amba's name and jerked her head in Ness's direction. And words began to form on the sword, on the side that Helena could see: The Lady has not the power, nor the right, to make demands here and now. Quench the fire. Temper the steel. And it will be over. Literal language? Or figurative? Helena was aware of no water in the glade. Her eyes narrowed—the Lady's midsection would be a lovely place to temper Thomas the Sword. "My oath, Lady, that the Blood of Amber, the birthright of Order will remain, release them all," Jurt explained. For once, the Lady looked less sure of herself. "Move towards the woods," instructed the quiet voice on Petra's ear. "Help comes from the forest." Petra didn't bother acknowledging that was a grand idea, since it obviously was. She sure as hell wasn't playing sacrificial lamb for anyone. Not anyone here at the moment anyway. Checking in the periphery, she saw that everyone was still watching the the center stage. The nudging backwards of her horse she had done earlier was now blessed as a warning by Fortuna. Petra carefully dismounted by sliding out of the saddle. She used her horse to cover her careful retreat to the trees. A dark figure stepped from the undergrowth—barely rattling the leaves. He stepped in front of Petra, leaving her the option to run for her horse. The man that stood before her was clad in leathers of brown and green in a random pattern of stripes and shapes meant for concealment in the forest. His bare arms were painted in a similar fashion down to the bracers that covered each of his forearms. He wore a hood that shadowed his face, and bore a long bow of thick yew with a silver string. Black fletched arrows rode in the quiver on his back, and even now one of the shafts was nocked to his great bow the silver head gleaming. "I am the Dark Man. I was called to aid those who were lost." Ness blinked, twice, and looked around. Her eyes widened when she saw her sister standing with the burning sword. She arose quickly and took a poised combat stance to Helena's left, her arms slightly raised as if prepared to cast a spell. She whispered to her right, "Well, you look okay. I don't suppose you have an extra weapon? Like, say, a broad beam sonic disruptor?" That elicited an exhausted smile from Helena, despite the grim situation. "I don't know. Let me check my front pocket," she murmured back. "This need not end in violence," Jurt cautioned, his words belied by his own shapeshifting. He had lost any fae appearances he had affected earlier. Petra stayed behind her new hero and went for her horse again. "Who is that?" she murmured to Pan. "Someone I summoned," whispered the faint voice. "Someone who...was lost. Someone who is pledged to help you." Petra's eyes narrowed on the form in front of her. "Me specifically, or me as in general people in trouble?" There was a soft rustling which, if she wished, she might take as the sound of laughter. "Half Amber and half Sidhe? Does that blood lead to altruism? I think not..." "No," Petra agreed lowly. "But I think I would have noticed if someone I knew had those ears." "Take his offer!" Helena snapped. "If you don't, I promise you this will end in violence." The Lady was looking from Helena to the hooded figure. "Blood of Amber," she said softly. "And blood of the Sidhe..." A dark eyebrow arched at this. "Pan..." Petra hissed lowly. "Who did you call?" "Long ago," said the voice, "a decree was made. A sundering. And an order was given, a barrier built. They should all have been locked away behind ...but one was stolen...and one left..." The brunette rolled her eyes. "So not helpful." The claymore's flames were waving gently, as if in a breeze, off to the side and towards one end of the glade... The hooded man's arrow seems to drift towards Jurt, perhaps made cautious by his appearance and his words. "I came to aid those who where lost." He repeats, and nods to Helena and Clytemnestra, "You, the Twins, you were lost—as was the one behind me." The voice was resonant, deep, but softly spoken. "You, " He said rather pointedly to Jurt, "Are on your own." The hooded man's gaze flicks to the Lady, "What is required here?" The Lady smiled. "You are," she said. "For since you were stolen away...you have been missed." She turned to look at Helena. "You may take the faithless one, and go. And when he betrays you too—then you may remember this...and regret what you did this day." Petra was paying little attention to Ness, Helena or the faithless one. She was frowning at the Dark Man's back while trying to puzzle out the Lady's words. She certainly seemed to know him, but Petra couldn't recall hearing of a half-Sidhe cousin. "Then I will go with you." The hooded man made a soft sound, possibly a growl. It echoed, strangely, as though the forest growled in response. Several of the horses stirred uneasily, but the Lady shifted not at all as the hooded man spoke again. "Everyone that is leaving should do so. Now." His bow did not waver, as the Dark Man turned slightly to look at the Lady. His head twitching towards Jurt, he asked, "And that one, he remains under your promise of safe passage?" Jurt cocked his head, listening to the voice rather than being distracted by the garments. A simple nod of thanks at the rescue of his nieces and Petra. "The blood of Amber he offered was not yours," said the Lady. "What blood it is...remains to be seen." With great force of Will, Petra refrained from giving Jurt the scathing look she had kept to herself previously, as it would have given her away to any Fae watching. "Bloody Chaosite," she muttered quietly. Helena didn't have any compunctions about staring at Jurt. "What Blood?" she asked him. "We're not staying here. You can stay here if you like—your life and all that—but no one against their will." "A few minutes ago, I was bargaining for your life and that of Tam-Lin and now, you're ready to abandon me? Perhaps you are Ishtar's Child," he answered. Clytemnestra bristled. "She most certainly is not! She's not abandoning you, she's saying that she won't force you to leave." "For all your learning at Flora's knee, you seem to be biased toward your sister, Ness," Jurt chuckled. "She's saying I can't force her to stay, but that is not necessary." [The Lady] raised a hand and pointed at the claymore that was Tam Lin. "Go then, faithless one. Take your chosen form and leave with these others. But hear what I say. The mark of the Sidhe will be upon you, worn clearly in your face, and your eyes, and no mortal shall trust you, or be at ease in your presence. And those whose blood you claim will not trust you. Where you love, there you shall find hatred. And where you hate, you shall find despair. This is not my curse, for that is not yet spoken. I merely speak of the way you have chosen. To Pan, the increasingly impatient Petra whispered sarcastically, "Oh, there's something new—the Blood of Amber that doesn't trust each other. Wooo..." "Go now—for when the hour of darkness comes, we shall hunt you all as wretched beasts of the woods that must be slain before they pollute all they touch. Oberon is dead and all bindings are loosened. Look to your skies, Amber, for the Moon shall bring the Riders once more." Petra just sighed. She foresaw several visits or calls in her future to people she didn't really want to even see right now. "Hush now," said Pan softly, "and we might soon be out of here—be ready to mount—and to take up one behind." Ness watched the Lady's archers warily, hoping to give the appearance that she could do something should they choose to open fire anyway. "Nell," she said, "do you need to complete your little ritual before we leave? Isn't there supposed to be a handy well for you to toss him in?" "Thomas? What now?" Helena asked, not yet relinquishing her hold on him. The flame grew less, less, then died; and the steel of the blade began to shift, changing back into Thomas' familiar form... Jurt seemed at ease again, turning his horse back to the rest of the hunting party. "Well, was this as exciting as you expected?" he asked the others. Tam Lin finally emerged, a little wild-eyed; he had, of course, heard every word from the Lady. "You come...into my domain," he said, his voice still rough. "You come to hunt me, to kill me. Don't pretend any kind of loyalty and then act in a huff that I don't show the same." He grasped Helena's arm. "This Seelie...this wonderful, smart, beautiful girl...she made the claim, she took it to the ending. She earned her reward. Save your anger. Save your curses. Save them until I've thoroughly earned them. I'm sure you'll think of something more worthy of me, soon enough." "Oh I shall," said the Lady. "You may count on that." "Heh. We did it!" Helena gave Thomas a tired grin, ignoring the Lady. "You're free!" She kissed him impulsively on the cheek. "Free." Thomas's arm tightened around Helena's arm, and he leaned close. "Let's get out of here before she finds out what else has happened..." "Agreed," Helena mumbled back. Ness took a hold of Helena's belt and started to gently pull her toward the spot where Petra and her protector stood. "That's right, Thomas," she murmured softly, "keep her talking as we back away, back ourselves away from the arrows. Then you two are going to get on my horse, Nell in front. Thomas, I don't suppose you can open a path through the thorns?" Helena didn't resist. Now that the trial was over, numb exhaustion was quickly replacing her previous adrenalin. Thomas reached out and gently took the other blade from Helena. "I have my own horse," he whispered back to Clytemnestra, then paused a second, even with all the danger around them, to look them both up and down. A shadow of his leering, toothy grin flitted across his face, then he said, "That way, to get out of here. Then we either go through the Barrier, or whatever way you came. I could tell you've not seen the Barrier before. Oh, and..." he stooped down as they moved, plucked two roses from a nearby rosebush. "For you, and you." Helena rolled her eyes but accepted the rose. "He's a terrible flirt," she told Ness. "I'll ride behind you." Ness frowned at Thomas. "There are three ladies present," she said frostily. Without taking the rose, she boosted Helena up into the saddle of her horse, and then, disregarding what her sister had said, mounted behind her. "Aye," Thomas said. "And surely, I would lavish our third beauty with roses and affection, were we properly introduced. True, you and I haven't been either, but considering that you grabbed me by my ears and thrust your psyche into mine as far as you could go—" Thomas's hips did a slight bump and grind as he talked. "I considered the 'hellos' to have been made." Once mounted, Ness turned to Petra. "I see our little charge is gone. I must say I'm sad and relieved at the same time. Did you recover what she carried?" Petra seemed only vaguely aware of the trio. She was still staring at the back of the Dark Man—until she moved up and tapped him on the shoulder. "Who are you?" she asked curiously. "I would have a name for our rescuer, if you don't mind." The Lady raised her hand...and the court around her began slowly to fade... He stepped away without turning towards her. Over his shoulder, he spoke directly to Petra. "Flee. Your charge is done." There was a brief pause, "Jack." With that, the Hooded Man sprang forward, bounding swiftly after the fading Fey. He let out a cry—a low howl calling out to something unseen. Petra scowled at his retreating back. "Liar," she muttered. The Maiden held out an imploring hand toward Jurt... Jurt's eyes widened for just one moment as if surprised by this offer and he rode closer, taking her hand gently. "If you would learn who you truly are," said the Lady to the hooded man, "you must follow us now...follow the mists... " And they were fading now...like mist indeed. "I can track a hawk on a cloudy day, I can find you." The hooded man replied, his voice on the verge of a growl. And he raised his bow, the arrow nocked ready, pointing... Towards Jurt. He loosed it then, although Jurt's attention was still on the Maiden. She saw the whole thing and, with a cry, pressed towards Jurt. Perhaps the arrow would just have missed him—perhaps her action saved his life. But the arrow struck her, in her breast, and the movement towards Jurt changed into a fall, a collapse into his arms, her eyes wide and dark with terror and pain... Thomas cried out as if the arrow had struck home in his own heart. He looked wildly around the glade... And now as the Sidhe faded, Jurt among them with the Maiden held close in his arms, the hooded man following them, it seemed that the colour of the woods was fading around those who were left. "Jurt!" Helena shouted, straightening up on the horse. Jurt's cry was something between anger and sorrow, but he pulled the Maiden closer, using their physical contact to force himself into her, commanding the tissues to reknit about the foreign object, accepting her sense of wholeness, sublimating his own self and directing himself into her healing. Petra felt a tug on her hair and suddenly Pan was among them, a centaur, vigorous and strong. "Ride!" he shouted. "Follow me for the border—for when the Maiden dies, all life will be lost from this world!" And he plunged into the forests. "It. Is. Always. SOMETHING!" Vaulting onto her horse, Petra jerked the reins and the black mare almost leapt in the air as it spun to shoot after the fleeing Pan. Leaning low over the horse's neck as it pounded through the woods, her borrowed robes whipped behind her like wings of a mad bird in flight. Ness kicked her sandaled heels into the white horse's flanks, and it took off after the black, carrying the twins. If she had any concern about Thomas, she gave no sign. "Pan!" Ness shouted at the centaur. "What about the Green Man? Will he survive? We need him!" Helena wasn't about to leave Thomas behind after all the trouble she'd gone to to make sure he survived. Besides, there was that whole vow thing, too. She craned her neck over Ness's shoulder to look for him. Thomas was on one knee, mouth open, the whites still visible around his dark eyes. Slowly, looking around, he sang: Alas, the warp'd and broken board, Then he put two fingers to his mouth and blew a shrill whistle; there was an answering neigh from the treeline, and the man who was once known as the Fairy Knight took off behind the others at a run. A moment later, his horse burst into the clearing, followed by two of the strange moon-dogs; he grabbed his steed's mane as it passed, swinging up and into the saddle as it sped into a full gallop. [Petra, Ness, Thomas, and Helena continued in Escaping the Fae] [Jurt continued in The Faery Court] |
