Rue
Summary: The Labyrinth strikes back. Haplo finds something new to fight for.
Notes: Yuletide gift for Darkhymns. I was surprised to see I got the same person and fandom for Yuletide as last year, so this technically goes between Ch.4 and Ch. 5 of Passage, my Yuletide work from last year, but can stand on its own.
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Haplo could count on one hand the number of times he had been grateful that Alfred had fainted. This was one of those times.
The charred bodies and tents made for a twisted nightmarish landscape even as the stiff wind began blowing it away. His magic kept the ash out of his mouth and lungs, but the stench of burned flesh and blood would linger for hours on his clothing and hair. Almost an entire Squatters Camp, destroyed in a few hours. Not unheard of in the Labyrinth, but it was the second in as many days. The few who had managed to escape had arrived at their camp a few hours ago, and it had taken more hours for Haplo and his warriors to arrive, but there were still hot coals and pools of blood drying. No one had been left alive in the camp. Marit and the others were looking at the tracks, although it was obvious what had happened. Dragon.
It was a harsh blow, and a reminder of the power of the Labyrinth. Haplo, Marit and Alfred had led this group of patryn- the strongest, most powerful- defeating any and all monsters from the Labyrinth in a goal to wipe them out entirely. Now he, along with a few others, was sifting through the dead camp for any useable supplies. Their runes glowed red, lending a bloody hue to the already bloody surroundings. They went through quickly and efficiently, moving bodies or debris where possible. Haplo discarded a water canteen which had been slashed through. It would be possible to repair, but they had plenty of empty bottles already. It was the water, which had already seeped into the devouring ground, that was needed. To the side was a pile of broken spears, a few had had stone tips, which he quickly stripped off, then stood. For a moment his vision was hazy. His eyes were focused, peering through the smoke and dust, but his mind couldn’t seem to connect with the image. Then something glinted, and he understood. Just a few feet away, almost buried by a burned tent, lay a small body. In its hand was clutched a polished knife. Steel was rare in the Labyrinth, and his people needed any weapon useable, so, with tired and aching feet he moved to the wreckage. In some strange twist of fate the child’s face, while dirty and swollen, was not burned. It may have been a girl, she may have been named Rue. There was no one here that would know. As Haplo reached for the outstretched hand he realized that his own hands were shaking. It made prying the knife out more difficult.
Echoing off the side of the small hill where the ruins of the camp were scattered were the howls of the Labyrinth’s scavengers. Distance was difficult to tell in the Labyrinth, especially in areas like this where you could feel its insidious influence so clearly, but they would likely be here soon. The Labyrinth was not just physical hardship and strain, it was a mental and emotional morass, so Haplo knew that the despair he felt was not real, but that didn’t make it any easier to stand and move on, especially with the numbness and exhaustion which was of his own doing. The anger which had once sustained him had faded, leaving a very different kind of strength, uncertain and weak, to combat the Labyrinth’s pressure.
Marit waved them back toward her and Haplo rose and walked with a smooth gate which belied the degree of mental effort which had gone into forcing his body to move.
“Two. They let those six patryns escape,” Marit said succinctly.
Two dragons working together. That this was unusual and foreboding did not need to be said. From the ragged bush where Alfred had been propped up came a faint groan, and with a few quiet words and hand signs the patryns took this as their signal to move out.
//
The next week passed in an exhausted and dazed haze. Everywhere there were attacks and death. Forests cleared just weeks or even days before were suddenly filled with monsters and traps. Mudslides and flooding reached camps days away from the nearest mountain or river. Everywhere the Labyrinth’s influence was felt; a deep cut from a rough patch of ground, a slippery knife twisting against its owner, a fall causing a broken neck where it should have left nothing but bruises.
The patryns and sartans of the Labyrinth had never known the like, the closest being the Serpent’s attack on the city, and even that had been a concentrated, focused attack. Not this... wily nily outpouring from the Labyrinth. Haplo and his band were kept running and flying from place to place, putting out dragon fire and chasing off chaodyn without any rhyme or reason. Their numbers were being slowly whittled down, the fastest, strongest and bravest patryn, who in their arrogance thought to destroy the Labyrinth once and for all, were dying slowly or quickly by their enemies hands.
Alfred, who as a sartyn had a closer to connection to the Labyrinth, was the first to offer an explanation, “The Labyrinth wasn’t built to be destroyed by its prisoners. To be survived, even conquered on occasion, but never destroyed. For a single moment,” Alfred whispered, gaze distant, “we weren’t afraid anymore, and the Labyrinth weakened. Now we are afraid again and the Labyrinth is strengthened.”
They were not only afraid, they were angry. The sartan council had been attacked and had fled from the city. Alfred took it as good sign that they had not found their bodies. Haplo almost felt guilty for being thankful that many patryn thought of Alfred as his “pet sartan”. It kept him safe from his people’s hate, if not the Labyrinth’s.
//
Sentries stared warily into the murky fog, swirling around and over the city walls. Magic and eyes strained to pierce the dense miasma, fingers gripping spears and bows as they waited for movement.
Inside a dimly lit room Haplo hissed as he finished rebinding his side. It was healing slowly, his magic nearly exhausted. Behind him lay Marit, loss of blood keeping her still and asleep. In front of him lay Alfred, they hadn’t been able to wake him for a whole day. Exhaustion. Really they were lucky he had managed to shift back to human form before collapsing.
He yearned to grasp their hands, join their separate circles and heal them back to wakefulness, but he didn’t have the strength to heal himself, let alone them.
How long he stared blankly at Alfred’s pale, thin face he couldn’t say, but low voices brought him back. Stiffly, and with care for his injuries, Haplo stood and moved to the next room. Conversation stopped and hard grim faces turned to him. They had followed him and Marit into the Labyrinth to rescue their people, conquer the Labyrinth once and for all. Now when it seemed like they would all be killed instead Haplo could see that they would still follow. Haplo was born for the shadows, he wasn’t a leader and having his people look up to him like this disturbed him in ways he couldn’t explain to Marit. Alfred understood, but he had also encouraged him to lead this relatively small group, directionless after the death of their lord.
At this moment Haplo knew that there were camps being destroyed, his people being tortured and killed, his daughter may be out there, away from the relative safety of the city or the Nexus… He also knew that they had originally been a group of 28, and now only 16 were still alive. Of those 16 only 10 were on their feet, and all of them had injuries and were exhausted. A pack of wolfen could easily kill them all, let alone chaodyn or a dragon. Perhaps if they joined a Squatter’s camp… One of his patryn who had been sitting, sharpening a knife, struggled to stand. The dark skinned patryn standing by her lent a hand but visibly struggled to take her slight weight. They then stood side by side, shamed by their weakness, but eyes fierce and patient as they waited for him to speak.
The few camps nearby had already been brought into the city or destroyed, they would likely not make it to the ones more than a day away. There was only one solution, even if the words stuck in his mouth like a blade. “Present yourselves to the watch captain. We will join them at the wall.” Haplo turned and strode out to follow his own command. Soon he was at the wall, staring out at the mist concealing the evil and death being visited upon his people.
//
Alfred’s skin was sickly pale and he swayed from side to side as he struggled not to faint. He had already thrown up. Haplo, impatient and tired, had pointed him to a bush, and he had stumbled to its side where he remained, hiding, hating himself.
Haplo was again picking his way through burned bodies and tents with a numb, almost dizzy feeling as the stench invaded his nose and mind.
He picked a sword up here, an arrow there. They were running dangerously low on weapons. After the decision to stay in the city the Labyrinth’s influence had eased, the stifling current of hate and fear had receded along with the attacks at the walls. As soon as they healed well enough to fight their small group, so much smaller than the last time they had left the city, had left in search of survivors and enemies. So far they had encountered only a few stray wolfen, and had even come across the almost hidden traces of other patryn, giving some hope that some had survived, but for this camp, for these people, the Labyrinth had relented too late.
There was a quiet rustling and Haplo twisted, abandoned sword in hand. Nothing seemed amiss, aside from the obvious, but he automatically checked his tattoos. They gave off no itchy warning, and he relaxed infinitesimally. Perhaps the rubble was simply settling… The rustling came again, and he signaled to the others before silently ghosting forward. There was a collapsed tent, half burned and ragged. There was an odd lump in one of the unburned corners; he prodded it with the blunt end of the sword.
It moved, with a quiet moan. Loathe to use magic and energy when his sigils were still not warning him, Haplo grasped the cloth of the tent and with a swift slash ripped it to reveal… a child? With a low wail it lurched to its feet, only to collapse back in to the charred cloth.
Heart pounding, Haplo lurched forward and gathered the child into his arms. With a start one of his patryn’s traced a quick sigil to check for other signs of life in the camp. It simply hadn’t occurred to any of them to check, hope drained by the past week, and the sigil sprang forward, marking the child and each member of their band, but revealing no other hidden patryn. By some miracle the child was the only survivor.
With faint whimpers, it thrashed in his arms. At a loss Haplo struggled to keep the child from falling, then Alfred was suddenly there, speaking soothing words and twisting to catch the child’s eyes. It froze when it caught sight of him, then twisted up to look at Haplo, eyes wide in a dirt and soot streaked face.
Later, plied with food and water, the child allowed Haplo to heal it. After healing surprisingly minor wounds Haplo emerged from the trance with a smile; the child’s heart rune marked her as a girl, named Rue.
//
The band of patryns and Alfred carried on their work, toting along Rue. They found death, and destruction, but a few days later they found also a Squatter’s camp. Both sides rejoiced, in the quiet patryn way. The Squatter’s survival had not been without cost, but stealth and a clever Headman had allowed them to emerge with few deaths.
Both camps were surprised when Haplo introduced Rue as his daughter. Only Alfred had smiled knowingly and taken her to help replicate the Squatter’s food and water, which had been greatly diminished.
Haplo’s band of patryn’s seemed to feel that it wasn't their place to question Haplo’s decision, but later that night Marit sought Haplo out.
“She’s the wrong age,” she said with typical bluntness.
“I know.”
“Why did you claim her then?”
Haplo shook his head, it wasn’t something he could explain, not with words. And so he offered his hand, and a merge between their two halves. With a hint of reluctance Marit accepted. Afterwards, she left shaking her head in disbelief, but when a week later they came across a camp struggling to support an orphan named Rue along with all their other children, she didn’t protest when Alfred and Haplo offered to take her with them. This, despite the vivid green eyes that obviously didn’t come from either Haplo or Marit. A month later, he came across Marit teaching the two girls runes for defense, and with a soft smile left them to their work.