exsiliumlogs | slip of the tongue

Entry tags:

slip of the tongue

Date & Time: 2/28 dayish
Location: miles north of the hold and such
Characters: Bariyan and Marty
Summary: PATERNAL INSTINCTS?? PLAIN OL' GUILT? whatever it is it's making this dead dude sniff out this kiddo
Warnings: Fightytimes and scarytimes

The tempering stones sparked uselessly for their second appearance in a row, but Martin had less time to reflect and be disappointed than before. No time, actually, not with those...things hot on his tail. Whatever they were, monster or not, they were strong. Not the sort of thing Martin would suspect any of his cousins to take on their own...hardly the sort he'd stand up to alone, either. That was for sure.

I said I'd come and kill them all, he thought despairingly, ducking behind another sickly, thick-bodied tree and dropping to a crouch, head down and panting. If I can't kill even one, then...Then what good was he, really? Maybe that'd be proof enough he was really not cut out for...for whatever it was this place wanted him for. Maybe this is all a big test.

The further away from the crumbled and ruined cities Martin ran, the fewer encounters he had. All the better. He ought to conserve his energy for returning straight to the Hold, where Martin (big Martin), Bariyan, Eliot, Nik and all the others were. Keeping the scourge burning in the palm of his hand from getting out of control was important – the blacker it got, the less he could conjure. So if I don't have to conjure anything for another three hours...

After waiting for the sound of...of anything and hearing little and less, Martin slid to sit at the roots, letting himself catch his breath. He winced before he could sit all the way, having to sit up and pull the netbook out of the back of his pants (a satchel would really have helped...) before plopping on the ground.

He took a few steadying breaths. Skirting away from the towns and broken cities, yes...He could do that. Veer a little, but always have eyes for the south. He might be a little late, but...but it was better than being a lot dead.

I have to at least try...

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"Huh-?"

Attention split, Martin shot quick glances up from the ground. Shoulder, back of the ear, nose in profile...he glimpsed each in turn with each look and step.

"T-two," he panted after a handful of steps. "Or three...Maybe. They're fast!"

"Yeah, they are," Bariyan said, scowling. It was unfair, how fast those bastards were. But two, three, that sounded... well, still bad. Bariyan was honestly a little surprised that they were even out here. He'd been under the impression that they were striking just at the Hold and its immediate surroundings.

They seemed far enough from the dead path now, so Bariyan came to a sudden halt to get his bearings. And to wonder where he ought to be headed.

"Which way's the nearest town?" Bariyan asked.

Stopped, Martin bent forward, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. He felt his arm tremble once before he put weight on it. Close or not, it didn't matter – he was pretty tired of moving so much! He'd sleep pretty hard when--

Huh?

He lifted to a slouch, dragging his sleeve across his forehead and smearing bangs. Town...? He looked around, then up, but that was no use. No stars yet.

"Uhm..."

He looked back the way they came. "I saw buildings...a while ago..." He pointed, but the gesture held little confidence. "Some, somewhere that way. When..."

He quieted suddenly, turning his head and peering over his shoulder. Something in his peripheral, but just for a second...

So they were at least heading in the right direction. Bariyan supposed they just ought to keep going, then, so he gave his shoulder a roll to make sure his arm was doing all right and prepared to move on. But Martin's sudden silence got to him before all else. He turned, saw nothing, looked around and waited for just a second -- and uneasiness settled in.

Now? If so, they were damn quiet, too.

"Get moving." Bariyan stepped towards Martin, still scanning the area, while reaching to push the boy behind him.

"Wuh--"

Martin stumbled forward a couple steps at the push, stopping and looking back up at Bariyan doubtfully.

"Just...Just the same way?" he asked weakly, losing the confidence to really question. He was already starting to move again, walking backward.

Bariyan started to turn, intending to answer with just a pointed look-- and then there was definite movement out of the corner of his eye. Bariyan stopped. He could hear it now. Rustling. Footsteps. And that brief flash had been dark and too sudden to be some wild animal.

"Yes," Bariyan answered, then. "Go."

He caught sight of it again, stepping out into the light and in the same moment making straight for them. Bariyan swung around the nearest tree and slammed a foot into its trunk. It went black at the roots-- he swore through his teeth, threw his weight against it, and enough of the base rotted away to send the rest of the tree falling.

It fell too slowly, and the Masked paused just long enough to avoid getting crushed. But in that couple seconds of delay Bariyan had already sprinted back off after Martin, already wondering: that was only one. Where were the others?

The groaning of the felled tree caused a startle and a muffled sound out of Martin, who felt his heart was trying to crawl up his throat and out completely. It was probably best to not look back. Definitely don't look back. I'm not looking back!

He let out another sound when Bariyan was suddenly there again, the pace set to encourage him to move faster. Fast as he could, or try to.

Again, the shape in his peripheral. It caused Martin to veer, almost to crashing right into Bariyan.

The veer caused Bariyan to look that way, and spot the second one practically drawing level with them. That made two -- time to make a guess as to where the third one would be. And to pick up the pace.

Bariyan next step thudded hard into the ground as he leaned forwards, grabbed Martin by the back of his shirt, pulled him back around, and proceeded to lift him right off his feet to throw over a shoulder. That took all of two seconds. Bariyan stumbled only slightly in the process, but kept balance and sprinted straight off again, faster than before.

If he ran straight into another one of those things, he reckoned he could probably shot-put the kid. Martin weighed nothing.

"Woh--!"

Martin yelped, feet kicking in the air while still in the mindset to run. Slumped over Bariyan's shoulder, he scrambled to grab hold of something to give himself a little security. When his hand pressed against the undead man's shoulder blade, though--

"Tss-!" His arm recoiled. Ow! The palm stung sharply, like touching something hot. He didn't have a lot of time to think on it, however, for as his head bounced up with Bariyan's gait:

"It's gaining!" he cried, clutching his wrist and trying to straighten out his arm.

Of course they were gaining. Gods, what Bariyan wouldn't give for a ravine and a wooden bridge right now.

He knew that he couldn't keep running, and that he couldn't outrun the things. He had to lose them, somehow. That'd been easy enough in the city, where he could jump in and out of buildings and hide and wait. Things were different out here.

Bariyan swerved into a sharp turn, diving into darker shadows and heavier foliage, looking for something to put between them and their pursuers. River, creek, hellpit, anything. Failing that...

"Martin," Bariyan said, "I might throw you soon. If I do, you run and you don't look back."

"Wh-what?!" Martin cried, his voice reaching a squeak. It was probably not the most unreasonable thing to do, throwing, but...but still!

"B-but, what--are you--" Carrying on a conversation while being hefted around like luggage wasn't an easy thing.

"You don't get to worry about what I do," Bariyan answered, almost cheerfully.

That was when the third of the Masked showed up. Bariyan didn't see its entrance, but he heard it land, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed him exactly what he expected: new soldier all of five feet behind them, with the first two catching up.

Bariyan jammed his next step into the ground and stopped.

He couldn't really throw Martin proper -- human-shaped things were, in general, difficult to toss around -- but he let Martin back onto the ground and pushed him away all in one fluid movement.

Bariyan spared just a second to say "Go," then turned to slam his shoulder into the first of their pursuers.

One of the others arrived a split second later. Bariyan swung his arm out, clocking them in the exposed jaw. And then he dug his nails in and held on. He hadn't a clue if his magic would even work on these things, but it was worth a shot.

Martin couldn't keep track of up or down, let alone the problems at hand as they developed. Before he knew what was what, his feet were back on the ground – he only realized that after getting pushed into motion once more. Instinct moved him along for that, steps ahead of his train of thought. The looming feeling of more bodies spurred him – We have to go! – and got him running at last, ducking a low branch and sliding on loose gravel down a mild decline in the terrain.

It took a few good breaths of clean, uncorrupted air to clear his head and get to second guessing.

Wait, where's...?

He slowed, sliding to a stop by bumping another tree as he turned. "Whuff––"

He's still––

Adrenaline had left him numb, but his growing worries drew feeling back, turning into tight little knots in his stomach and nervous tingles on his skin. Guilt, too, bubbled up and caused his throat to hurt and heart to flutter.

He said to go and don't look back. I'm looking back!

But there's more of them, and he's by himself...

It didn't occur to Martin to recall Bariyan was dead, even as he was taking heavy, trotting steps back the way he'd fled, veering far off-course to go around.

All right, so magic did work. Sort of. He saw the Masked that he'd grabbed go out cold for about three seconds, before suddenly snapping back to attention. That was just enough time for Bariyan to try and rip his other arm free from the first one he'd attacked.

That didn't work out so well. By the end of it, Bariyan's arm was still stuck in a deathgrip, and the one he'd knocked out had made a full recovery to pull out... what? A gun?

There wasn't enough time to examine it any further. Out of the corner of his eye, saw the third soldier start to move in the direction that Martin had gone.

"Hey! You stay with me." Bariyan twisted hard, swinging his free fist around and aiming for the exposed mouth again, right under the visor.

And that got him a clock to the jaw. But hey, he had all three's attention now. That had to be enough for Martin to get away safely... and it seemed like the kid had listened. At least, he wasn't anywhere in sight.

Martin's steps faltered at the sounds of a scuffle. He said to not look back, to run and keep going...

He forced himself to slow down and take careful, soundless steps, one hand clamped over his mouth to silence his panting. He stopped behind the trunks of trees and waited as he went, wincing as the sounds got closer. I'm taking too long, and he said not to look back, to run and keep going...

The fight was in view at last, as Martin peered behind the back of a sickly oak. From the distance he was at, it was hard to get details, other than his rescuer was ganged up by three, not two. And one of them had a weapon of some kind. Martin had never seen it before, but it had to be bad.

Branding, bigger-Martin had said. But he saw no hot irons. This was...worse. He had to help.

He needed to move, get at a better angle...

Bariyan had been thinking real hard about trying to get one of the Masked in a headlock, though he suspected that at this point they'd just rip his arms out to keep him from being a nuisance. He'd just begun shifting his weight to make a grab for the one in front of him when he spotted more movement to his left.

At first he thought it was yet another one of the Masked.
He would have preferred that, actually.

There was still quite a distance in between the two of them, but Bariyan was rather hoping that his you're a bloody idiot stare would get through to Martin anyway.

And then Bariyan went for the headlock, for the sake of distraction. But his target dodged and went behind as the third one grabbed his free arm, which left him mostly out of options.

Spotted, Martin flinched and disappeared behind the tree again, hugging his arms and hunching forward. What do I do what do I do?! He held his breath as he listened, all the while feeling the pressure of no time to really think things through.

When he moved out of hiding, he found Bariyan in much more of a pinch than he'd left him. Maybe it was branding, iron or not...but Martin wanted very much to stop that. Tree to tree, he circled around the scuffle, trying to line up the attackers best he could. If he could hit them all at once--

He slipped, having to plant his hand on the ground for a moment to get his footing before slipping out of sight again. Please don't die please don't die please don't die-- He straightened out his arm, curling and uncurling his fingers until the bones became so stiff they froze in place. I'm going to help please don't die--!

With both arms locked down and no useful magic to speak of, Bariyan went for conversation instead.

"Three of you?" he asked. "Seems like a waste of resources to me."

And it did, really, but Bariyan wasn't going to pretend like he knew their full numbers or intent. He wishes they'd talk, though. Or make some noise. But they continued to be the most uncommunicative trio of men he'd ever seen.

Bariyan decided that he didn't like them.

He looked around and realized he couldn't see Martin anymore. Could be a good thing. Could be--

The soldier behind him put the gun right between his shoulders, and fired. Bariyan felt nothing, and didn't even register that anything had happened. He kept looking for Martin.

One, two, three...

Martin could see them, lined up in the gap between his middle and ring finger, curled and frozen in place. His whole arm shook still, even after having taken a knee and a chance for breath. He used his other hand to steady it, propping his elbow on his thigh.

His aim...his aim wasn't great, even at his best. It was too hard to judge. But if he aimed for the one closest to Bariyan, lowest, and the other two behind that one...Aimed for the chest, then...

It was like a whole extra limb trying to claw out of the palm of his hand, the bone base the only true aspect to come from his body. He never really understood how the rest worked, conjuring and all...it was different for every Darkov. Whatever it was, it made a mean projectile – wider than his arm, twice his height, shaved to a point like an over-sized pike. It soared like something a tenth its size and bulk, clearing the distance from Martin's hideout to the three.

THWOKK

One, two, three. Back to back to back, pinned to a tree a few yards back.

It wasn't going to hold forever; the clock started now.

Martin rushed out of hiding, skidding and sliding to Bariyan's side, tugging at his shirt by the shoulder with one hand, the other tucked against his stomach.

"Let's go," he huffed. "Let's go, come on--"

Bariyan's head whipped around as the thing came hurtling out of nowhere, taking all three of the Masked with it and just missing him. What the hell was-- oh. It came back to him. That was the thing that Martin had attacked him with only days ago, wasn't it? Gods.

"What--" Bariyan stopped for two reasons. One, he realized that the things weren't dead -- he wasn't going to wonder how -- and two, now was not the time for talking. "Right."

And with that, he grabbed Martin up again. And ran.

Good, he thought, relieved to have the running duties taken from him for as distracted as he was. He didn't think of how good a shot it was or where on that horrible island they could possibly be going that was safe. Only the tictictictictic of a clock, like the one from the compound. Tictictictictic.

Make it last. Make it hold.

If those things weren't dead already, he had to make the spear remain long enough for Bariyan to give them a great deal of distance. But it was hard. He had a Goliath-class, armor-piercing conjure, trained to appear, impact, and disintegrate. Pinning things was hard, despite the need to learn how. It was a great deal of mass and material to will and keep in existence. His record was three minutes, standing still and hardly under stress.

It was a little different on the shoulder of a dead man, racing through places unknown and pretty devoid of Darkovs aside from himself. The more he thought about that, the harder it became. He squeezed his eyes shut as things began to blur. Tictictictictic.

Six minutes. The unpleasant effects of Bariyan's body and power weren't lost on him, compounding the effort.

"D-dowh--" Martin uttered, losing and finding his voice. "Put me, put me down. P-please."

Or I'm gonna throw up...

Bariyan very nearly refused him on the spot. Put him down? They weren't nearly far enough for-- well. He turned, looked, saw and heard nothing. And continued to see and hear nothing, even when he came to a full stop. All right then.

He let Martin back down, somewhat more slowly and carefully than before. But he turned away almost immediately to look behind. How far had they gotten? Were they coming back? Where in hell were they going to go from here?

Bariyan asked the easy question first. He turned back to Martin. "How are you doing?"

Martin sank to the ground, doubling over slowly with his arm pressed up against his stomach. He said nothing until the wave of nausea passed, propped up by the other hand.

"Justasecond," he breathed, sitting up to give his hand a chance to move and dig into a pocket. Slow and methodical, bleary-eyed and sweating, Martin was briefly detached from the danger of the situation. With a few more steady breaths, his head started to clear out the fog the strain was causing and urgency started clawing at his gut.

"Just a second."

He spilled a small handful of rocks out onto the ground, a bunch not unlike the kinds he'd threatened Bariyan before. Those were plucked up and stashed away, however, leaving one little brown-and-white one. Martin took another heavy breath, quelling a tremor.

"They're gonna be free," he mumbled, pinching the rock between finger and thumb and bending forward again. "Sorry. Hang on."

He let his head drop and quieted, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut. This is the worst.

Letting the weapon disintegrate caused a whiplash effect, energy and matter returning to him all at once and caused his body to seize up, knocking the breath right out of him. He pitched forward, forehead against the ground as he ground his teeth against the noise bubbling up from his throat.

He exhaled and gasped in air when the snapback was done, reeling to sit upright and shaking his head, trying to blink the dizziness away.

"Just a..." He winced. "Second." And exhaled again. "Sorry."

It doesn't burn yet, he thought suddenly, looking down and pulling his arm away from his stomach. The skin of his hand was black and leathery, bubbling up with an array of sores, but he didn't feel it. He blinked, forgetting the problems at hand for a second. Seeing Bariyan's feet in his peripheral snapped him back, however.

"Sorry," he said quickly, looking up. His other hand closed around the rock. Save it for later. "Sorry, I had t--" He shook his head, shifting and starting to get to his feet. "We can go now. They're not...pinned anymore."

Bariyan nearly panicked when he saw Martin seize up, but Martin had recovered and picked himself back up again before Bariyan could do anything about it. That didn't quell his anxiety much, though, especially not after seeing Martin's hand. He found himself staring: it looked awful.

"Is that normal?" Bariyan asked, hesitantly.

He started walking; they had to move, but after that, Bariyan had doubts about how much stamina Martin had left in him. Hopefully he could keep up with this pace, for now. And hopefully Bariyan would come up with a better plan than 'wander aimlessly through the countryside' before nightfall.

Martin slipped his arm under his coarse-fiber mini cape, shifting weight from foot to foot, steadying. He was tired. But it wasn't burning yet, so he decided to try simply...not thinking about being tired. He had to follow, and that was task enough.

After a couple staggered steps, Martin slipped back into pace, not unlike the way he had when he'd followed Bariyan around the Hold before. Days ago? He forgot. He forgot to count the sunsets.

He forgot Bariyan had asked a question, too. Minutes later, his head snapped up again, eyes big with alarm. What was it?

Oh--

"Y-yes," he replied, a bit on the loud side. He swallowed and exhaled. "I...yes, it's. Natural. When you overuse...It's normal, I mean."

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