(no subject)
They'd been climbing for three days when they walked into the ambush.
As she and Brock were forced into the midst of the circle of outlaws-- most of them bearing the green tattoos of Eridu, she'd noticed -- Kim had still found a moment for a whimsical, morbid thought: If I end up dying here after all, Aileron will never forgive me for breaking my promise. All humor had vanished, however, when the outlaws' leader had unleashed his temper upon them. He'd broken some of her ribs with the force of his first kick, she knows, and Brock had been far more seriously beaten. Still, even amid her own helpless fury at his actions, Kim had known that there was something more driving his rage. She'd been right, and anger had turned to cold horror as the leader had dragged a young outlaw named Faebur forward to relate what he'd seen. As he'd spoken, she'd seen -- for Seers could go, in fact are forced by their gift to go behind the spoken word to the images that inspire them. And so, as Faebur told his tale, Kim relived the vision with him, witnessing an evil that hadn't been unleashed upon Fionavar in over a thousand years.
The death rain of Eridu.
Soft gray clouds cover the blue of the sky, blocking the sunlight as the gentle spring rain begins-- and with it the shrieks of agony from men and animals alike. Raindrops strike unprotected skin, hissing and burning with acid pain as black blisters form and swell and break, over and over again, until the victims die screaming and lie fallen, noxious and stinking with poisonous foulness, rotting and silent under the unforgiving steel-colored sky, while the rain continues. And continues. And continues, drifting slowly toward the mountains and the unprotected lands beyond.
What hope could there be, in the face of such despair? What hope, for any of them? And yet if there were any to be offered, she was the one who must find a way to carry it, and so Kim had swallowed her horror and her pity and revealed who she was and what she knew. She had told them of her Sight, and of the ship sailing toward Cader Sedat, and what those on the ship sought to do there-- and what she herself had come to the mountains to do.
Convincing them had not been without difficulty, but in the end they had believed her. And when Kim and Brock resumed their journey toward Khath Meigol, they did not go alone-- Faebur had joined them, along with an exiled Rider from the Plain, known since only as Dalreidan, "Rider's Son."
* * * * *
They've been climbing all morning, the four of them. No one speaks -- at this height, in the thin air, the trail's hard enough without wasting breath on words. In any case, there isn't that much to be said.
Kim's lost in her own thoughts, remembering her dream of the night before. There had been pain in it, and smoke, and the Baelrath blazing on her hand, blood-red and brighter than the sun they're walking under right now--
--the sun. Kim stops suddenly in her tracks, causing Brock to almost run into her from behind, and shields her eyes as she looks as far as she can beyond the mountains. A cry escapes her, and she points. Brock turns to look, and Dalreidan and Faebur spin around to see, as well, but it's Brock of Banir Tal who gives voice to all their joy in that moment as they stare unbelieving at the now-cloudless sky over Eridu.
"Oh my King! I knew you would not fail!"
Looking at the clear sky through tear-blurred eyes, Kim knows that Brock is right-- and knows as well, with a Seer's strange vision, that far away to the west, in the spinning castle of Caer Sedat, the Cauldron of Khath Meigol now lies shattered in a thousand pieces.
After some unknown time, she becomes aware that they are waiting for her. Kim exchanges a glance with her companions, and then nods.
"They've done their part. Now it's our turn. We go on."
As she and Brock were forced into the midst of the circle of outlaws-- most of them bearing the green tattoos of Eridu, she'd noticed -- Kim had still found a moment for a whimsical, morbid thought: If I end up dying here after all, Aileron will never forgive me for breaking my promise. All humor had vanished, however, when the outlaws' leader had unleashed his temper upon them. He'd broken some of her ribs with the force of his first kick, she knows, and Brock had been far more seriously beaten. Still, even amid her own helpless fury at his actions, Kim had known that there was something more driving his rage. She'd been right, and anger had turned to cold horror as the leader had dragged a young outlaw named Faebur forward to relate what he'd seen. As he'd spoken, she'd seen -- for Seers could go, in fact are forced by their gift to go behind the spoken word to the images that inspire them. And so, as Faebur told his tale, Kim relived the vision with him, witnessing an evil that hadn't been unleashed upon Fionavar in over a thousand years.
The death rain of Eridu.
Soft gray clouds cover the blue of the sky, blocking the sunlight as the gentle spring rain begins-- and with it the shrieks of agony from men and animals alike. Raindrops strike unprotected skin, hissing and burning with acid pain as black blisters form and swell and break, over and over again, until the victims die screaming and lie fallen, noxious and stinking with poisonous foulness, rotting and silent under the unforgiving steel-colored sky, while the rain continues. And continues. And continues, drifting slowly toward the mountains and the unprotected lands beyond.
What hope could there be, in the face of such despair? What hope, for any of them? And yet if there were any to be offered, she was the one who must find a way to carry it, and so Kim had swallowed her horror and her pity and revealed who she was and what she knew. She had told them of her Sight, and of the ship sailing toward Cader Sedat, and what those on the ship sought to do there-- and what she herself had come to the mountains to do.
Convincing them had not been without difficulty, but in the end they had believed her. And when Kim and Brock resumed their journey toward Khath Meigol, they did not go alone-- Faebur had joined them, along with an exiled Rider from the Plain, known since only as Dalreidan, "Rider's Son."
* * * * *
They've been climbing all morning, the four of them. No one speaks -- at this height, in the thin air, the trail's hard enough without wasting breath on words. In any case, there isn't that much to be said.
Kim's lost in her own thoughts, remembering her dream of the night before. There had been pain in it, and smoke, and the Baelrath blazing on her hand, blood-red and brighter than the sun they're walking under right now--
--the sun. Kim stops suddenly in her tracks, causing Brock to almost run into her from behind, and shields her eyes as she looks as far as she can beyond the mountains. A cry escapes her, and she points. Brock turns to look, and Dalreidan and Faebur spin around to see, as well, but it's Brock of Banir Tal who gives voice to all their joy in that moment as they stare unbelieving at the now-cloudless sky over Eridu.
"Oh my King! I knew you would not fail!"
Looking at the clear sky through tear-blurred eyes, Kim knows that Brock is right-- and knows as well, with a Seer's strange vision, that far away to the west, in the spinning castle of Caer Sedat, the Cauldron of Khath Meigol now lies shattered in a thousand pieces.
After some unknown time, she becomes aware that they are waiting for her. Kim exchanges a glance with her companions, and then nods.
"They've done their part. Now it's our turn. We go on."