11-18-2017, 09:52 PM
In the wake of Armande's body stepping away from hers and the smile of pride that touched her soul, the weight of fatigue settled into her bones. She longed to sink into someone's arms, whether Regus's or Illarion's, she didn't care. At that moment she might have sank to her knees and rest on her own squat. She could do neither of those things, though. The Eye could not be so weak. The Khylsty would devour weakness, perhaps literally, if they sensed it. Regus' favor may protect her, but it would not prevent her murder. There were going to be plenty of people ready to murder her after this. The fools didn't know she was leading them to their greatness, but they wouldn't care. Greatness was a time to come, and they only knew the foods in their bellies, the pains in their skins, and the fear in their hearts.
She sank a few steps behind Regus as he led them away from their ancestral home. For generations the Khylsty existed Below. Below what, the surface, none living could even fathom. The Eye had seen, of course. Wide open that stretched in all directions forever, colors that her eyes had never beheld, and so much brightness. She had seen, but never had she experienced. The fear of what that would be like crept slowly into her own skin, making her fatigue even weightier. Neither slowed her pace, but she did give Illarion both bags to bear as a burden. Her twin brother, pale of eye and hair where she was dark, was equally weary. But only in a way that a twin would recognize. He was part of her as she was part of him. His jaw remained tight, however. His eyes were pinched low. He spoke nothing of his inner turmoil.
They weren't alone in their suffering. She saw labored breathing, burn marks reddened flesh angry. Regus gave some salves as he could spare, but they would be forced to endure their physical injuries even as the people were forced to leave all they'd even known behind and march upward.
The Above was up there. Their road twisted this way and that. Regus, and others of strong arm and limb, cleared their paths of beasts that they met along the way, but such a large party thwarted most dangers by sheer number alone. There were times when she was sure she sensed their presence - beasts breathing in darkness, flashes of eyes darting, and clattering of claws drawn across stone. On one of their breaks to rest, she sat, leaning her head on the wall, and a thousand spiders crawled into her hair and across her face, biting and stinging as their legs pierced her skin. She gnashed them with her teeth but they penetrated her nostrils, ears, and mouth, stifling her screams.
When she woke with a cry, Illarion was at her side, clutching her hand. She had dozed off to sleep, she thought, only to discover later that most of the group had stopped to sleep. They had little to spare to eat, but she drank water greedily, still feeling the dream stuck in her throat.
"There are so many tunnels,"
she said to Illarion one time. Long ago, long before the dream, she'd become lost. The air felt no lighter. The smells were no less pungent. But perhaps she was colder. They were far from the heats of the Pits, far from home. "How much farther?"
Of course he had no answer, but neither would she allow herself to ask Regus for answers. She had to stay strong for all their sakes.
She sank a few steps behind Regus as he led them away from their ancestral home. For generations the Khylsty existed Below. Below what, the surface, none living could even fathom. The Eye had seen, of course. Wide open that stretched in all directions forever, colors that her eyes had never beheld, and so much brightness. She had seen, but never had she experienced. The fear of what that would be like crept slowly into her own skin, making her fatigue even weightier. Neither slowed her pace, but she did give Illarion both bags to bear as a burden. Her twin brother, pale of eye and hair where she was dark, was equally weary. But only in a way that a twin would recognize. He was part of her as she was part of him. His jaw remained tight, however. His eyes were pinched low. He spoke nothing of his inner turmoil.
They weren't alone in their suffering. She saw labored breathing, burn marks reddened flesh angry. Regus gave some salves as he could spare, but they would be forced to endure their physical injuries even as the people were forced to leave all they'd even known behind and march upward.
The Above was up there. Their road twisted this way and that. Regus, and others of strong arm and limb, cleared their paths of beasts that they met along the way, but such a large party thwarted most dangers by sheer number alone. There were times when she was sure she sensed their presence - beasts breathing in darkness, flashes of eyes darting, and clattering of claws drawn across stone. On one of their breaks to rest, she sat, leaning her head on the wall, and a thousand spiders crawled into her hair and across her face, biting and stinging as their legs pierced her skin. She gnashed them with her teeth but they penetrated her nostrils, ears, and mouth, stifling her screams.
When she woke with a cry, Illarion was at her side, clutching her hand. She had dozed off to sleep, she thought, only to discover later that most of the group had stopped to sleep. They had little to spare to eat, but she drank water greedily, still feeling the dream stuck in her throat.
"There are so many tunnels,"
she said to Illarion one time. Long ago, long before the dream, she'd become lost. The air felt no lighter. The smells were no less pungent. But perhaps she was colder. They were far from the heats of the Pits, far from home. "How much farther?"
Of course he had no answer, but neither would she allow herself to ask Regus for answers. She had to stay strong for all their sakes.
The Eye of the Khylsty