Update: After the Deluge Chapter Twenty
I seem to have been MIA for a little while. My apologies. Here's an update of my WIP, After the Deluge; another chapter is about a third finished too.
We're back with Buffy and Giles, but our friends seem to be closing in on each other now...
Chapter Twenty: Evening Shadows.
In principle, it was as easy as it had ever been to get Andrew to talk. The merest ghost of a threat had always been enough to induce babbling, and this time Giles didn’t need to do much more than jerk his head at the Range Rover and ask Buffy if she needed him to fetch the Krooklock as a weapon. It was much harder for Buffy to keep a straight face. The group around them mostly looked perplexed, Witleof most of all.
Andrew slumped for a moment, then his eyes brightened. He had A Secret to divulge, and that sort of power always excited him. That this secret was Romantic, Historic and Deeply Moving didn’t hurt any, either. Nobody but Andrew could hear it, but there was definitely a fifty-piece orchestra producing swelling music in the background.
Andrew straightened his posture and pulled his shoulders back. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth. Then he stopped, his attention drawn by the odd angle at which Witleof was leaning. The Saxon pressed forward against the invisible barrier, frustrated by its solidity and looking more than a little ludicrous as his nose and cheek were squashed by the wall of air.
“Who is this, Mister Giles?” Andrew asked, all his importance returned to him. “From the distortion of his features I greatly fear this may be a demon of some power. Is it right that he should hear our secrets?”
Respected Watchers do not roll their eyes. Ever. No matter what the temptation. They take a deep breath, wince internally and respond in a civilised fashion.
“Andrew, there is a great deal that you do not know. Much more than you do know, in fact. Leave me to be the judge, please?”
Andrew adopted his familiar sulk face. “Only trying to help. How can I know what’s the what if nobody tells me? Or even greets me? I thought I was part of the team, you know?” He clamped his lips together. Whatever exciting information he had to share, Giles and the others were spared from the recital for a little while at least. Not exactly the plan, but at least they could move forward with their original intention.
“I have no idea what this young man is doing here, Rupert, but perhaps we could continue?” Oscar’s voice, oddly echoing his own thoughts, broke in. Usually his brother thinking on the same wavelength was not a good omen, but it could hardly be an issue this time.
“Precisely, Oscar. This young man is one of our trainee Watchers, who joined us last year after we were forced to move our base somewhat abruptly. Andrew, this is my brother, Oscar.”
Introductions over, the group returned their attention to Witleof. He was on his mounting block again, looking as frustrated as before, while Althanea did her best to soothe him. Miss Hartness briskly explained that he would be returned to his home as soon as he had helped them with a minor matter, and Oscar did his best to conjure obedience with language which would have been pompous in any situation and which Buffy found particularly ridiculous in a farmyard where the shadows were lengthening, the breeze was becoming chill and there was very little evidence of a purpose in their presence.
Buffy’s attention wandered. Not exactly the most unusual event, but this was a very pretty place, with frothy white blossom cascading over dark hedges and emerald leaves contrasting with the pale gold stone of the farm buildings which glowed in the long, level rays of the late sun. When Giles said, “Is that OK by you, Buffy?”, she didn’t feel it was polite to admit that her mind had been miles away, wondering what a certain stupid individual with fake gold hair might be doing right now, when he should be right here apologising to her, so she simply nodded.
Oscar, slightly alarmingly, grabbed one of her hands, and his brother took the other. She saw she was at the centre of a human chain, with the witches at each end, and found herself drawn forward, matching slow, steady steps with the others. The line advanced on Witleof, curving a little to enclose him, and he stood, shaking a little, moving to his rear one uncertain step at a time.
Behind them, Andrew coughed and, when that failed to attract significant attention, squeaked. “Mr Giles? I think there’s something you ought to know before you move very much further that way.”
He was ignored. Rupert Giles winced, just a little, and Oscar grimaced at the tactlessness of trying to interrupt a containment ritual. Althanea and Miss Hartness, holding the end positions, had started to hum again. Buffy, in the centre, was conscious of an eerie silence behind her. The birds had quietened, and Andrew’s mouth was mercifully still.
Pace by slow pace Witleof was moved to the open door of the barn. The voices of Giles and his brother joined in the music, creating a harmony of intent focus. The young man at the centre seemed to be struggling, now, spreading his arms to each side, gripping the door frame with what looked almost like desperation.
Simultaneous tugs on each hand told Buffy to stop. Rupert Giles began to intone. “Betrayer of your people, harken to me. Now is the hour when you may be redeemed or fall forever downward.”
“Betrayer of your purchaser, hearken to me. Now is the hour when you may stand once more for what is right, or fall forever downward.” Althanea’s voice sounded deeper.
Oscar joined in, “Betrayer of your oath, hearken to me. Now is the hour when you may fight the undead to restore life, or fall forever downward.”
Miss Hartness, her precise, clipped voice sounding out of place, continued, “Betrayer of humanity, hearken to me. Now is the hour for you to return what may be returned, atone for what has been removed, or fall forever downward.”
Her companions all looked directly at Buffy. What was she supposed to say> Hello, briefing much appreciated here. She had no formula, as the others clearly had, and no idea how to find one. Still, that she was expected to speak was beyond question. “Betrayer of yourself? Hearken to me. Do what needs to be done. Or falling wil occur.”
The air around them seemed to sigh and relax. Witleof stepped forward, waving his hand through the air as if he had expected to find it solid. He cocked his head to one side for a moment, a gesture Buffy would have preferred him not to make. Then he spoke. “One of you does not call on me. Is he for me, then?”
Giles looked round, startled. “Who? No, that’s Andrew. He is not of my party. In fact I haven’t the first idea what he is doing here. But he is under my protection, as are all mortals on this farm. Now, enter into the building and begin your quest.”
Witleof looked fleetingly disappointed, then turned and shrugged. He stepped, head high, into the dark doorway, and was seen no more.
Andrew tiptoed up to a position just behind Buffy. Really, could he be more annoying? He cleared his throat tentatively and nodded toward the door.
“Buffy, I really, really need to tell you something now. It’s really important.” He all but tugged at her sleeve. “That barn? It’s not empty - is your blond friend going to cause trouble? “
The linked hands dropped instantly. Giles turned a face of sheer rage on Andrew. “Are you telling me Dawn’s in there? You stupid, silly little man. Why did you waste time and let us start the ritual with out telling us? Have you any idea what you may have started?”
From within the barn there was a sudden crashing sound, as if a heap of farm implements had fallen from some height. There was a high-pitched male yell, and a female scream.
Then, in the following silence, Andrew fainted dead away.
Buffy stepped away to avoid being hit by his inert body. Really, she had other things on her mind right now. The noise from the barn continued, a mixture of male shouts, female protestations and farm implements from the sound of it hitting walls, floors, bodies - who knew?
“Giles.” She gave him an impressively determined expression. “I am going in there.”
“Buffy, I’m not sure you can. We have some very powerful wards in place, and if they were to be broken who knows what Witleof might do?”
“Listen to me. Watch my lips. Dawn is in there. She has to be - why else would Andrew be here?” She pointed at the heap on the ground, now moaning gently to itself.
Giles nodded. “I see that, Buffy. It’s not really like her to stay safely in Italy if Andrew’s here, is it?” He turned to the older witch. “I think we may have a slight emergency on our hands here.”
As always, comments make me very happy.
We're back with Buffy and Giles, but our friends seem to be closing in on each other now...
Chapter Twenty: Evening Shadows.
In principle, it was as easy as it had ever been to get Andrew to talk. The merest ghost of a threat had always been enough to induce babbling, and this time Giles didn’t need to do much more than jerk his head at the Range Rover and ask Buffy if she needed him to fetch the Krooklock as a weapon. It was much harder for Buffy to keep a straight face. The group around them mostly looked perplexed, Witleof most of all.
Andrew slumped for a moment, then his eyes brightened. He had A Secret to divulge, and that sort of power always excited him. That this secret was Romantic, Historic and Deeply Moving didn’t hurt any, either. Nobody but Andrew could hear it, but there was definitely a fifty-piece orchestra producing swelling music in the background.
Andrew straightened his posture and pulled his shoulders back. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth. Then he stopped, his attention drawn by the odd angle at which Witleof was leaning. The Saxon pressed forward against the invisible barrier, frustrated by its solidity and looking more than a little ludicrous as his nose and cheek were squashed by the wall of air.
“Who is this, Mister Giles?” Andrew asked, all his importance returned to him. “From the distortion of his features I greatly fear this may be a demon of some power. Is it right that he should hear our secrets?”
Respected Watchers do not roll their eyes. Ever. No matter what the temptation. They take a deep breath, wince internally and respond in a civilised fashion.
“Andrew, there is a great deal that you do not know. Much more than you do know, in fact. Leave me to be the judge, please?”
Andrew adopted his familiar sulk face. “Only trying to help. How can I know what’s the what if nobody tells me? Or even greets me? I thought I was part of the team, you know?” He clamped his lips together. Whatever exciting information he had to share, Giles and the others were spared from the recital for a little while at least. Not exactly the plan, but at least they could move forward with their original intention.
“I have no idea what this young man is doing here, Rupert, but perhaps we could continue?” Oscar’s voice, oddly echoing his own thoughts, broke in. Usually his brother thinking on the same wavelength was not a good omen, but it could hardly be an issue this time.
“Precisely, Oscar. This young man is one of our trainee Watchers, who joined us last year after we were forced to move our base somewhat abruptly. Andrew, this is my brother, Oscar.”
Introductions over, the group returned their attention to Witleof. He was on his mounting block again, looking as frustrated as before, while Althanea did her best to soothe him. Miss Hartness briskly explained that he would be returned to his home as soon as he had helped them with a minor matter, and Oscar did his best to conjure obedience with language which would have been pompous in any situation and which Buffy found particularly ridiculous in a farmyard where the shadows were lengthening, the breeze was becoming chill and there was very little evidence of a purpose in their presence.
Buffy’s attention wandered. Not exactly the most unusual event, but this was a very pretty place, with frothy white blossom cascading over dark hedges and emerald leaves contrasting with the pale gold stone of the farm buildings which glowed in the long, level rays of the late sun. When Giles said, “Is that OK by you, Buffy?”, she didn’t feel it was polite to admit that her mind had been miles away, wondering what a certain stupid individual with fake gold hair might be doing right now, when he should be right here apologising to her, so she simply nodded.
Oscar, slightly alarmingly, grabbed one of her hands, and his brother took the other. She saw she was at the centre of a human chain, with the witches at each end, and found herself drawn forward, matching slow, steady steps with the others. The line advanced on Witleof, curving a little to enclose him, and he stood, shaking a little, moving to his rear one uncertain step at a time.
Behind them, Andrew coughed and, when that failed to attract significant attention, squeaked. “Mr Giles? I think there’s something you ought to know before you move very much further that way.”
He was ignored. Rupert Giles winced, just a little, and Oscar grimaced at the tactlessness of trying to interrupt a containment ritual. Althanea and Miss Hartness, holding the end positions, had started to hum again. Buffy, in the centre, was conscious of an eerie silence behind her. The birds had quietened, and Andrew’s mouth was mercifully still.
Pace by slow pace Witleof was moved to the open door of the barn. The voices of Giles and his brother joined in the music, creating a harmony of intent focus. The young man at the centre seemed to be struggling, now, spreading his arms to each side, gripping the door frame with what looked almost like desperation.
Simultaneous tugs on each hand told Buffy to stop. Rupert Giles began to intone. “Betrayer of your people, harken to me. Now is the hour when you may be redeemed or fall forever downward.”
“Betrayer of your purchaser, hearken to me. Now is the hour when you may stand once more for what is right, or fall forever downward.” Althanea’s voice sounded deeper.
Oscar joined in, “Betrayer of your oath, hearken to me. Now is the hour when you may fight the undead to restore life, or fall forever downward.”
Miss Hartness, her precise, clipped voice sounding out of place, continued, “Betrayer of humanity, hearken to me. Now is the hour for you to return what may be returned, atone for what has been removed, or fall forever downward.”
Her companions all looked directly at Buffy. What was she supposed to say> Hello, briefing much appreciated here. She had no formula, as the others clearly had, and no idea how to find one. Still, that she was expected to speak was beyond question. “Betrayer of yourself? Hearken to me. Do what needs to be done. Or falling wil occur.”
The air around them seemed to sigh and relax. Witleof stepped forward, waving his hand through the air as if he had expected to find it solid. He cocked his head to one side for a moment, a gesture Buffy would have preferred him not to make. Then he spoke. “One of you does not call on me. Is he for me, then?”
Giles looked round, startled. “Who? No, that’s Andrew. He is not of my party. In fact I haven’t the first idea what he is doing here. But he is under my protection, as are all mortals on this farm. Now, enter into the building and begin your quest.”
Witleof looked fleetingly disappointed, then turned and shrugged. He stepped, head high, into the dark doorway, and was seen no more.
Andrew tiptoed up to a position just behind Buffy. Really, could he be more annoying? He cleared his throat tentatively and nodded toward the door.
“Buffy, I really, really need to tell you something now. It’s really important.” He all but tugged at her sleeve. “That barn? It’s not empty - is your blond friend going to cause trouble? “
The linked hands dropped instantly. Giles turned a face of sheer rage on Andrew. “Are you telling me Dawn’s in there? You stupid, silly little man. Why did you waste time and let us start the ritual with out telling us? Have you any idea what you may have started?”
From within the barn there was a sudden crashing sound, as if a heap of farm implements had fallen from some height. There was a high-pitched male yell, and a female scream.
Then, in the following silence, Andrew fainted dead away.
Buffy stepped away to avoid being hit by his inert body. Really, she had other things on her mind right now. The noise from the barn continued, a mixture of male shouts, female protestations and farm implements from the sound of it hitting walls, floors, bodies - who knew?
“Giles.” She gave him an impressively determined expression. “I am going in there.”
“Buffy, I’m not sure you can. We have some very powerful wards in place, and if they were to be broken who knows what Witleof might do?”
“Listen to me. Watch my lips. Dawn is in there. She has to be - why else would Andrew be here?” She pointed at the heap on the ground, now moaning gently to itself.
Giles nodded. “I see that, Buffy. It’s not really like her to stay safely in Italy if Andrew’s here, is it?” He turned to the older witch. “I think we may have a slight emergency on our hands here.”
As always, comments make me very happy.