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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It'd been hard to get out of the Hold, with every damn door guarded. So Bariyan had taken the only obvious route left to him. He'd jumped out the window.

It hadn't ended there, of course. He'd basically hit the ground running.

All in all, he'd come out that first day slightly better than expected. He'd cut his arms open, dislocated his shoulder, and probably suffered internal injuries from scaling walls and hurtling over fences and (to his displeasure) leaping out even more windows -- but none of that mattered. By nightfall he'd cleared the city and lost sight of his pursuers. That gave him a chance to set his shoulder himself, then move on.

Bariyan didn't sleep.

He'd had ample time to reflect on how stupid and hasty he'd been, too. He'd acted as soon as Martin sent off that last message. Hadn't taken anything with him. Now he wished that he'd at least taken the netbook. Out here, he realized he hadn't a clue how to locate Martin.

Bariyan went, instead, for the next best option. All around him the grass was yellowing, the trees were wilting, and the ground was blackening to ash underneath his feet. He let the corruption spread away from him -- hopefully it'd catch Martin's attention, if he was out here somewhere. And hell, Martin might run, or he might attack, but either way Bariyan figured he'd hear him first.

Or it'd just draw the attention of the black soldiers. But Bariyan decided to worry about that later.

I should go.

Martin's legs begged to differ, but his head had the right way of it; the longer he tarried, the more likely trouble was to build – both for himself and for those he'd promised to help. It was the least he could do, wasn't it? For all the trouble...

He gulped against a tight knot building in his throat. No time to fret now. One more deep breath and off he went.

He would've had a hard time recalling when he first started smelling the rot and feeling the tingle in his spine, but somewhere between panted breaths and heavy footfalls it became too much to ignore, too potent. He coughed, having to stop and try to catch his breath. Inhaling deeply caused him a full-body shudder. Something's out here. Something bad.

Calm wasn't much of an option anymore. Martin held the last breath drawn, darting glances around and hunching over, making himself smaller. Where was it? What was it? He needed...needed a safer position. He shuffled back against a tree, poking glances around each side, fingers curling and uncurling again. Calm down, calm down...

The last breath caused a cough; he clapped his hands over his mouth quickly, darting wide-eyed glances around.

Calmdowncalmdowncal--

He almost jumped right out of his skin when he heard the footfalls crushing grass, coming closer. His eyes clamped shut on impulse; he forced them open. One hand stretched out, arm straight as possible. Wait, wait...

Bariyan stopped soon as he heard the cough. Something about the Masked had suggested that they weren't the type to cough. At the very least, they'd looked and acted too highly trained and professional to give themselves away like that.

Besides, they'd have attacked already.

Bariyan comes to a halt and turns his head sharply.

"Martin?" he calls out, and cuts his magic off. The plants don't come back to life, obviously, but they do stop withering away.

Hearing his name shakes him right to the pit of his stomach, causes him to go numb a moment until the blood rushing to his ears began to throb. Breath muffled and smothered against his hand causes a small sound, obliging Martin to move his hands away, pressing palms against the trunk of the tree to steady himself. The voice is...

Is that man!

The response got stuck in his throat – What if it's a trick? – and gave him cause to push away from the tree and move around its base, searching. The south side smacks him with the stink of decay and the sight of a shape, more defined in the shadows...hazy in the gray and moody daytime.

"H-here," he panted, slumping against the tree again. He wasn't flooded with relief – there was no room, so full of nerves as he was – but he didn't feel nearly as worked up as he did seconds ago.

Besides, it was confusing his sense of time and direction. How close to that place am I...?

Bariyan's head turned again, his eyes flickering until they found Martin's shape in the shadows. Suspicion and relief cropped up all at once and Bariyan went completely still and unresponsive to think. But it looked and sounded like Martin, and Bariyan couldn't think of any reason to mistrust his eyes. Gods, the boy had moved quick.

Bariyan crossed over, leaving his trail of corruption behind.

"Are you all right?" he asked. He leaned down and took a closer look at Martin, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Martin looked pretty far from all right. "Tell me what happened."

Martin's skin began to crawl anew out of sheer instinct, causing him to wince. He still feels like a monster, but--

"I--I," he stammered, head dropping as the distance closed. He took a deep breath and tried to hold it as he spoke. "I'm not hurt. I had to...to run a lot. When I got to towns..." He exhaled, breathed in again, looking up.

"I couldn't sense any of them, but they were there...And...And I couldn't hit them. So I ran this way..."

'Not hurt.' Bariyan shut his eyes in relief. But not for long. He straightened back up and looked around. No sign of anything yet, but it that wouldn't last long. They'd been lucky, so far, lucky to have even run into one another. So Bariyan expected that their collective good fortune was just about used up.

"They're worse than I thought," Bariyan agreed. That was an understatement. Just running away form those things had been hell.

He fixed his stare on Martin again, but kept all the useless I-told-you-sos to himself.

"Come on. We need to move." Bariyan steps past and reaches for Martin's shoulder, to sweep him along.

No one at the compound would have ever believed him if he'd said it. No way. For a person like Bariyan to be helping him out...It would be nothing but a ridiculous lie. Something to laugh at. Something to cause concern.

Martin sure as hell didn't know how he felt about it, but strong personalities tended to steamroll his misgivings if he wasn't careful. He was too wound up to follow all the steps and be careful; Bariyan came to help. Reasons why would have to wait for safer times, if ever.

Even with that conclusion, the boy couldn't help flinching. The touch caused such a shudder up his spine and a tingle of his skin that he almost made a sound. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to silence even the chance, using his shrunken posture as means to push away from the tree more forcefully.

It took a handful of unsteady steps to get to running proper, back in the pace that suited him best. He slowed enough to start following than leading, head down to follow shadows and ankles and watch for roots and other obstacles. It was fairly mindless, easy to do, and kept his mind from wandering too far too fast.

Martin's shudder didn't go unnoticed. Bariyan didn't feel it, but he saw the flinch and extrapolated enough from that to immediately take his hand back. Right.

And now what?

Well, now they ran. Bariyan's path was all too easy to follow. Someone else was going to turn up on it eventually, and Bariyan hoped to be long gone before that happened. So: away from the roads, away from civilization, away from the Hold, away from here. Away. Easier said than done.

"How many of them did you see?" Bariyan asked, suddenly, words smooth and surprisingly uninterrupted for someone who'd been nonstop running. He figured that'd be a good thing to know.

"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.

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slip of the tongue

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