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* Lisl starts up the low rise towards Zoya's Tower, two light-laden, tough, hill ponies-- and Orlann-- in tow. "I talked to Zoya yesterday. She's agreed to 'port us out and back. Just remember... clean as possible. We're just there to look." <Zoya> ::The Tower, expecting them, is a little less forboding than usual as they turn into the garden. Its door looks *almost* normal, except that it's been painted in a garish checkerboard pattern of green and orange.:: * Orlann nods, looking up at the Tower with a dubious expression. He has discarded his cane for this expedition, but he still limps heavily. His father's sword is sheathed and strapped across his back. "Aye, Mistress Lisl." <Lisl> ::snorts a little at the sight of the door, but shakes her head and knocks firmly:: * Zoya opens the door. She's wearing everyday clothes, and her long white hair hangs in a loose braid down her back, though the purple lock falls free. "Very punctual, Lisl." She gives Orlann a smile and a nod. "Corporal. I've heard a lot about you. Come in." * Orlann bows deeply. "I've heard a bit about you, as well, Lady Mage. I'll be a good sort, though, and only believe about the half of it." He gives her a somewhat shy grin. <Lisl> ::grins:: Wouldn't want to give you a chance to get distracted by research. ::she starts to loop the ponies' reins around a tree branch and hesitates:: Um... will you need them in? <Zoya> ::laughs:: It all depends which half, Corporal... Leave the ponies. I'll have the Staff bring them around. ::she leads them into the Tower:: <Lisl> ::nods and ties off the reins, following Zoya inside, muttering to Orlann:: Don't wander off... this place isn't the easiest to navigate. * Orlann hardly needs to be told twice, walking close enough to Lisl to breath on her hair more often than not. <Zoya> ::The Tower behaves almost normally as Zoya leads them through the halls, though it can't seem to help showing off a few times. Finally, Zoya opens a door and ushers them into an interior garden. The ponies are already there, placidly chewing on some bushes.:: <Zoya> Oh, *stop* that! ::She swats the ponies' noses, shooing them away from the bushes:: Marten will have a fit... ::she gives Lisl a measuring look:: Are you certain you want to do this? * Orlann stares at the ponies, blinks a few times, looks back down the hall they just came from and visibly comes to the conclusion that He Does Not Want To Ask. * Lisl takes several deep breaths and runs a hand down the fur of the wolf pelt on her shoulder, smoothing some of her built-in twitchiness, and gamely follows Zoya, relaxing a little as they step out into the garden. <Lisl> ::nods slowly:: Certain. I'll be careful, Zoya, my word on it. ::adding this last as if it's the latest sally in a long argument:: <Zoya> ::snorts, then turns to Orlann:: And you? Are you sure you want to do this? You're still only half-healed, and this could be dangerous. <Orlann> ::seriously:: Ma'am, Bleakhill was the only home I ever had. I... need to know. It haunts me. <Zoya> ::raises an eyebrow, then nods:: All right. Ah, to be young again... ::she grins, as she doesn't really look all that much older than Orlann, herself, and winks at Lisl, who looks even younger (elven heritage aside):: * Lisl snorts and sticks her tongue out at Zoya. <Zoya> Go stand with the ponies. Get them between you and take a good grip on their reins; the teleport is likely to upset them. Ah... ::she eyes Orlann again:: Some people don't react well to the trip; it could be a rough ride. Just to warn you. * Orlann nods. "Imagine that." His mouth twitches and he goes to stand near the grey-dappled pony, taking the reins firmly in one hand. <Lisl> ::nods, and turns to Orlann:: Alright, one last time, for clarity's sake: Zoya's going to drop us a-- mile or two? ::glances at Zoya for confirmation:: outside of town. We're riding as far as we may, getting a *quiet* look-round, and getting back out. ::looks at Zoya:: And you'll be able to lock on this to get us back? ::holding up a little bead on a thin, braided purple lock of hair:: * Zoya grins, then fishes in her sleeve, coming up with a detailed map of the region. "I'm going to drop you about five miles away. That should be enough of a buffer, in case they've set up camp in the village. When you break the bead, I'll come and get you. If I don't hear from you in two days, I'll come anyway. ::she gives both of them a stern look:: Stay out of trouble. * Orlann gives Lisl a "yes Sergeant" nod and when she looks away he rolls his eyes expressively. <Lisl> ::grins:: Yes, Mother. Oh! Hells... Zoya, if my mother shows up... uuuh... well, tell her I'll be back soon. * Lisl goes to stand by her brown pony, holding it on short rein. <Zoya> ::snorts:: Shame on you... All right. ::She holds up the map so they can see it, then drops her hand to leave it hanging in mid-air. She whispers, and a tiny breeze ripples the paper. The detail on it is really quite fine... almost supernaturally so. It draws their attention like a hypnotic point, and seems to grow larger:: * Lisl watches the map, taking several deep breaths and petting her pony's nose to calm herself as much as the horse. * Orlann swallows convulsively, his dark skin greying around his mouth and nose. <Zoya> ::The map *is* growing; in a brief moment, Zoya is no longer visible behind it. It ripples again, and when it firms, it seems much more *real* than the garden around them, still growing. Reality twists, and with a stomach-wrenching jerk it seems they are falling into the map, each tree and stream and rock clearly delineated - and growing larger.:: * Lisl holds her breath, swallowing hard against nausea and muttering to herself. "Aerdrie... I *should* have asked Bluestar..." <Zoya> ::Quite suddenly, with another jolt of reality, they are standing in the center of a clearing, not far from a babbling stream. The ponies whinny and shy, not quite willing to believe the landing didn't involve an impact.:: * Orlann closes his eyes and buries his face against the neck of his pony, whimpering involuntarily in the back of his throat. * Lisl calms her pony, doing her level best not to retch. ::looking around, Lisl and Orlann realize that the clearing is a terraced crop field, lying fallow. Weeds and a few stray winter wheat stalks break up what is otherwise a solid field of mud.:: * Lisl takes several deep breaths of fresh air, her color coming back quickly. She looks around her, nostrils flaring. "Take a moment, Corporal. Damn... always makes me dizzy." * Orlann takes a few minutes to recover, reaching down to touch the muddy fields as if not certain they were real. ::the quiet settles down on Lisl and Orlann like snowfall. This high up, there are few birds, most preferring the richer valleys, where food is more plentiful. Little is heard besides the wind slipping in out of the trees, new leaf buds opening to small spring leaves:: * Lisl orients herself as she studies their surroundings, pointing her nose north before looking west at the rising landscape, eyes darting to track anything that moves. <Orlann> ::looking around, he gets his bearings:: Bleakhill is that way. ::he points to the northwest, along the course of the small stream:: ::little moves for Lisl to notice. Overhead, a hawk wheels and soars in endless circles.:: <Lisl> ::nods, patting her pony's neck and mounting up with the care of one accustomed to fractious horses:: Alright, then... ::scanning the horizon again:: Where's the closest track? * Orlann pulls himself onto his horse, which seems much calmer than Lisl's. "'Less I'm mistaken, cross this field and north some's the farm-road." <Lisl> ::nods:: Okay. We'll stick to the stream as long as we can... anything on the road these days is likely to be unfriendly as not. Sun moves quickly this time of year... let's go see what is to be seen. <Orlann> ::nods briefly, clenching his jaw:: Aye... ::he turns his pony to follow hers:: * Lisl knees her pony, coaxing it over to walk in the edge of the shallow, chilly stream, where the lapping water will wash away scent and tracks both, heading northwest. * Orlann looks down into the small stream, his eyes pale and distant, then he peers around, checking the area behind them. ::the view from the stream offers little. There are frequent branches off the stream to irrigation canals, most of these choked with rotting leaves carried downstream in the spring melt, causing the stream to run deeper and faster than normal, but it is still reasonably gentle, and the sure-footed ponies resolutely make their way upstream:: * Orlann gazes over the unplowed fields, his eyes bleak. * Lisl rides on in the stream, pausing after a few minutes and waiting for Orlann's pony to catch up. She digs into one of her packs, pulling out a couple of leather-wrapped vials. "Almost forgot. Here. Don't hesitate to use 'em at need." ::shortly before reaching where the farm road bridges the stream, Lisl and Orlann come to the remains of a farmhouse. The building has been burned to the foundations, the stone blackened, and a few planks of charred timber lay on the ground, grass and moss already starting to cover them over:: <Orlann> ::raises one eyebrow, then tucks the vials into his belt-pouch:: * Lisl pats her own pouch with a grin, which quickly fades as she turns back forward and spots the ruined farmhouse. * Orlann stares at the farmhouse as if willing it back to repair. "Bin Saddler and his wife lived here. Bin had a boy, just twelve, who was interested in the militia..." <Lisl> ::nods without speaking, turning again to regard him steadily for a few quiet moments:: You know it's going to get worse. D'you want to take a moment to look around, or go on? <Orlann> ::nods brusquely:: I know... ::he studies the ground for a long moment:: Been rains since I left, not likely much left to find, here. Let's go. <Lisl> ::nods, turning around again and giving him the privacy of her back as she rides on:: ::shortly, Lisl and Orlann arrive at the bridge for the farm road. The current has carried much debris to this juncture, where it has caught on the center support post of the bridge, damming the stream slightly. The stone and mortared bridge appears to still be in working order.:: * Orlann glances at Lisl. "We're very close to town, now. Cross the bridge and over that hill there..." * Lisl grunts noncommittally, studying the clogged underside of the bridge. She glances back and nods at Orlann's comment, frowning thoughtfully at his leg. "Your territory... walking distance? I don't want you overextending yourself if we have to make a quick exit, but I don't want to announce ourselves, either." <Orlann> ::nods:: I'll be fine, unless we have to run too far. ::he gives her an encouraging grin:: <Lisl> ::grinning back:: I'll trust your good judgement, then, Corporal. We leave the ponies... they've water and good grass here. ::she slides to the ground, patting her pony on the rump and looping the reins over a snag, as if they'd caught there:: <Lisl> Don't tie 'em too tight. A herd of two's better than none, and I'd rather they stray than turn orc fodder. * Orlann dismounts slowly and knocks a largish rock over the end of his reins. "Aye..." * Lisl stretches as though she'd just spent several hours on horseback instead of a spare half-hour. "Right. Onward. Quietly." She hikes up the slight rise of the stream bank to the road. * Orlann mutters something under his breath and follows Lisl. * Lisl looks faintly rueful, but doesn't make any indication she's heard. She crosses the bridge warily, looking around, and steps off the road as soon as she's across. ::the road is, like everything else in this area in mid-spring, quite muddy. Old deep wagon wheel ruts lead up into town and further down the road, but they don't look like they've seen use in some time. Along the center rise, between the wheel marks are faint gouges, as if something was dragged along it:: * Orlann squats with a wince and examines the road for a long moment. * Lisl narrows her eyes as she squats beside the road, studying its surface. She reaches out carefully, stretching over the ruts to touch her fingers to the gouged surface and hold them to her nose, rubbing them together. <Lisl> ::her frown deepens, and she touches her fingers to the side of one of the ruts, leaning forward to peer more closely at the hardened mud:: <Orlann> ::stands back up:: And? * Lisl rises slowly, absently wiping her fingers on her pants leg and staring up the road. After a moment, she jerks her head in a come-along gesture, heading towards Bleakhill but staying well off the road. * Orlann follows her, moving with a strange drag-legged pace that looks awkward as hell but seems to allow him to move a bit faster. * Lisl keeps a slow pace, stepping carefully, her eyes flitting back and forth between a study of the ground beneath her and scans of the area around. * Orlann watches the road and lands behind them warily. Every once in a while his hand strays to reach back for his sword, as if for comfort. ::as the pair gets closer and closer to town, more and more burned out buildings show up along the side of the road:: * Lisl stops at the first building for an absorbed examination of the packed ground in front of what was once the door. * Orlann walks slowly around the house, one hand trailing along the scorched wall. * Lisl frowns again, stepping carefully between the blackened timbers to better examine a hollow area under the partially-collapsed floor. * Lisl studies the floor, rubbing her chin, and eases through the wreckage to go back outside and walk around the house. * Orlann stops at the back of the house, looking over several of the other homes in the area. * Lisl kneels again as she finds the open entrance to the root cellar, touching her fingers to the dirt again and tasting it. * Lisl shakes her head, looking frustrated, and stands again, brushing off her knees. She ghosts up next to Orlann, studying the other houses. "Who lived here?" <Orlann> Tamya Milner... her husband died about five years ago, or so. She's got... had a slew of kids, though. About ten or so. We used to joke that she was continuously pregnant... * Lisl nods. "How much farther to the palisade?" * Orlann points. "Not much farther... you..." He frowns. "We should be able to see it, from here." * Lisl looks in the direction he points. "Pulled down, then... or burned." * Orlann shudders <Lisl> ::A glint of yellow shows in her eye and she turns half-away from him, blinking:: Corporal... I don't want to ask, but I think I need to know. <Orlann> Ma'am? ::he looks at her:: <Lisl> ::turning to look at him again:: The civilians you were escorting... did you see them killed? Or did they just disappear? <Orlann> They were killed. ::his voice is utterly flat:: I wouldn't have just left them, if I thought there were any chance at all. Most of them were shot, the damn orc-bows have a hell of a range. <Lisl> ::some of the tension goes out of her shoulders, and she nods:: They're... ::she swallows:: Don't take this the wrong way, corporal, but I think they were lucky they had you defending them. Whatever's left there... ::nodding towards the town, and then shaking her head:: I'm getting a really bad feeling about it. <Orlann> Care to share, or shall I just have an uneasy feeling for no reason? ::he takes several deep breaths:: <Lisl> ::looking back towards the road, keeping her voice low:: From the bridge, in front of the houses... I've seen drag-marks in the mud. Old... couple of months at least. Made by fingers. <Orlann> ::shudders again:: Gods have mercy. <Lisl> I pray they already have. I'm praying those people are dead. If they're not... ::she looks him in the eye:: we have to get back to Marsember soonest. * Orlann nods sharply. "Let's go, then. See what else there is to see." * Lisl takes a deep breath and lets it out again slowly, shaking out her wrists and nodding. She turns her back on the charred houses, heading towards what was once Bleakhill town. * Orlann follows, his limp slightly more pronounced. ::as Lisl and Orlann draw closer, it becomes apparent the palisade was torn from its moorings, and a great gash is left in the earth in its place, running around what was the border of the town. Inside the perimeter, nothing remains of the town except the burnt out shells of houses. The arson doesn't appear to be as thoroughly carried out here as on the outskirts of town, and a few houses are only mostly burned down, instead of completely destroyed: * Orlann gags, bringing one hand up to shield his face in horror. "My gods." <Lisl> ::softly:: Hells. ::surveying the damage, head cocked as if she were listening to something far-off:: ::in what was the training grounds for the militia there is a large pile of ash, nearly fifteen feet wide, and seven high in the center. In the center of town are stumps of what once were three gigantic trees, a large dark stain in the ground all around them:: * Orlann takes a few steps forward, hesitant, as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. * Lisl stalks closer, her face a blank mask. She stands for a moment, gazing further up into the mountains, and shakes her head. She bends to touch the ground again, tracing her fingers over faint patterns on the earth. * Orlann walks, as if in a daze, over to the tree stumps, looking at them with an almost glazed expression. * Lisl moves over to stand by Orlann, bending to examine the stained ground. <Orlann> ::softly:: My mother planted these trees... she's a druid, you know... to honor my father, after he died... ::tears are streaming unheeded down his face:: * Lisl reaches a slightly trembling hand down to the ground, touching it lightly to the mud and lifting it to her lips. The mud staining her fingers is a deep red-brown. * Lisl clenches her hand into a fist. Her eyes, as she stares northward towards the mountains, are golden. and filled with unshed tears. <Orlann> ::looks at the ground for a while:: They're all dead. Aren't they? I mean, this can't be just a few people... <Lisl> ::nods shortly, displaying her stained fingers:: I think so. ::she blinks rapidly, turning her head half-away:: <Lisl> At least... ::turning her head back:: *Almost* all. <Lisl> You're not. They tried. They tried to slaughter them all... but they couldn't kill you. * Orlann nods. "I almost wish..." He looks over at one small house, partially burned. Where the wall still stands, it was painted a pale blue. <Lisl> ::harshly:: Don't. Don't ever. ::she takes a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. When next she speaks her voice is tired and old:: Sorry... I... it's just that... as long as you're alive, your people are alive. You know them, you remember what was here. ::she lowers her hand:: Surviving's never easy... but you have to survive. <Orlann> ::nods again:: I just don't know... to do them justice... ::blinks a few times and absently runs a hand over his face:: That was Lina's house... ::jerks his chin at the blue burned shell:: I want... if there's anything left... <Lisl> ::nods brusquely:: <Lisl> Yell if you see anything. I'll be over there. ::nods to the ash pile, and starts off towards it:: * Orlann limps reluctantly over to the burned shell. "Oh, Lina... I'm glad you can't see this..." He touches the remains of the door, which was once elaborately painted. * Lisl kneels again beside the ash pile, tasting the earth again and bowing her head. * Orlann opens the door, which falls off its last remaining hinge. With a sigh, he leans it against the wall. <Orlann> ::stepping inside the house, he looks around at the destruction. It appears someone ransacked the house before burning it. With a quiet sigh, he leans over and picks up a battered pie tin from the ruins of the floor:: * Lisl circles the ash pile, stepping gingerly, trying to make sense of the jumbled tracks. * Lisl spends several minutes examining the ashes, standing and bowing her head again before heading back to find Orlann. * Orlann wipes his face again and pokes through the rubble. Occasionally he pockets a few things. A cat's-eye marble. Two silver forks. A badly chipped mug. He moves to the chimney, which resisted the fire fairly well and removes a large stone from the hearth. From under the stone, he pulls out a small leather bag that jingles. * Lisl waits politely outside the broken door of the cottage, staring again at the mountains. <Orlann> ::he moves into a second room and looks around. The bed is a heap of tangled blankets and broken bedposts. A woman's clothing has been pulled out of the dresser and scattered like so much trash. Orlann picks up a carved wooden box that once held some simple jewelry. In a sudden fury he hurls it against the wall with an incoherent wail. He collapses to the floor and buries his face in his hands, sobbing:: * Lisl looks around, startled, and darts into the cabin, looking for Orlann. She freezes in the bedroom doorway and takes a few steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder. * Orlann trembles like a child. <Lisl> ::softly:: I'm sorry. * Orlann nods, pulling himself together slowly. "Yeah." He picks up a dirt and ash-stained lady's apron, embroidered with foxglove around the bottom. He folds it and adds it to his pouch. <Orlann> ::roughly:: I'm glad Lina's not here to see this... she loved this house... * Lisl nodding silent agreement, watching him. <Orlann> I am going to kill them... ::he clenches one fist:: As many as I can find... all of them. I hate them! * Lisl nods again, glancing northward. "Corporal... where's the next settlement, from here?" <Orlann> There isn't much... Skullcrag about a week or so north, but it's hard going... unless you go west to the High Road. <Lisl> Nothing close, then... like in the mountains up there? ::gesturing with her chin:: * Orlann follows her gesture. "Not a village, no... there was a hunt-station and lookout, about a mile up. They never lit the signal, when the orcs came." He closes his eyes for a long moment. * Lisl nods again, thinking. Abruptly, she shakes her head and looks at him. "Are you up to showing me?" <Orlann> Aye. ::he leaves the small house, barely limping at all; his anger and grief seemed to have numbed him to physical pain:: * Lisl takes a last look around the empty, burned-out village before following him, paying close attention once more to the ground north of the former palisade. * Orlann stalks out of the village, unstrapping his sword. The deathly quiet around the village does not seem to warrant holding the weapon, but it seems to give him some focus for his anger. ::the path out of town has pounded flat under many, many boots:: * Lisl glances at him without comment. She looks faintly distracted as they hike northward, head cocked, listening. * Lisl freezes, putting a finger to her lips. As she lowers her hand, a silvery shimmer forms around her fist, coalescing into her Claws. She moves forward again, faster, making almost no noise. * Orlann is not quite as quiet as Lisl, but he's no slouch at moving without excessive noise. ::as the pair has moved northward, a sound has emerged on the edge of perception. The faster they move, the louder the sound becomes. An endless screaming, from multiple sources, with no break:: <Orlann> Gods... what *is* that? ::his voice, no more than a whisper, is horrified:: <Lisl> ::grimly, her voice near a growl, a ghost of sound:: Screaming. * Orlann narrows his eyes as he looks at Lisl. <Lisl> ::shakes her head, moving forward erratically and keeping to what cover the few trees in the area provide:: * Orlann shrugs and heads back up the trail. "This usually isn't like this... almost no one comes out here, 'cept the lookout, and they only come back once a week, 'r so to switch out." * Lisl looks back over her shoulder. "I didn't see a single trace of the Dragons' party inside the palisade. I'm worried." She puts a finger to her lips again, keeping an ear cocked as she covers the rising ground. * Orlann looks a bit puzzled. His voice barely carries, "thought we were ahead of 'em." ::the screaming grows louder and more bone-chilling the farther up into the mountains the pair go. As they reach the knocked-over remnants of the lookout's station, it reaches its peak. :: * Orlann slows, practically stops, his eyes filled with horror as he looks around. * Lisl shudders involuntarily at the sound, looking around for its source, her weight on the balls of her feet. ::from out of the post burst six spectral forms, armed with long spears and armored in plain leather. The mouths gape wide, screaming. One steps forward long enough to point his spear at Orlann and Lisl. Laid over the screams they can hear, in a high, thready voice:: "None can pass!" * Orlann steps back with a startled exclamation, his sword whirling into a defensive arc. * Lisl brings both hands up, stopping where she stands. "Hells!" She glances at Orlann. "Bleakhill's idea of lookouts?" * Orlann shoots Lisl a glare of pure hatred. "We did not do this." * Orlann stares at the specters, then his mouth drops open. "Gods of mercy... Blake..." His voice drops to a whisper and his sword nearly drops from numbed fingers. <Lisl> Steady. ::she keeps her guard up, regarding the spirits warily:: We have no quarrel with you. We seek the ones that made you this way. <Spectres> ::the group advances together in rigorous formation. If they understood Lisl's statement, it does not show. The spear points rise to a level with Lisl and Orlann's chests.:: <Orlann> Shan... Arden... ::he turns in a semi-circle, looking at them:: What *happened*... how did this *happen*? ::his voice raises in pitch:: * Lisl backs up. "Corporal-- time to retreat." <Orlann> ::shakes his head:: These men were my friends... how.. I don't understand... <Lisl> Cor-- Orlann. They died doing their jobs... they probably died badly. If we stay, they'll fight us. We have to go now. <Lisl> ::more softly:: We'll be back. I know some people who might be able to talk to them. <Orlann> ::not looking at Lisl at all:: Shan... don't you remember me? ::he holds one hand out imploring:: * Lisl raises a Claw, warding against a possible touch. <Spectres> ::the spectre Orlann addresses hesitates, the spear point dipping:: None... None can pass? <Orlann> ::urgently:: It's me, it's Orlann, remember? We won't pass... my oath on it. * Lisl holds her breath, not moving, looking back and forth between man and ghost warily. <Spectres> ::the spear point snaps back level again, and the spectre snarls:: *None* can pass. <Orlann> Shan... you had a girl, remember? Nissie Frendl... you have to remember... she wore a green gown, last year at the Midwinter's dance, and she looked just perfect... please, Shan... <Spectres> ::Shan's spectre doesn't say anything, but the screaming redoubles, louder than before:: * Orlann nearly sobs at the sound, his face twisting in anguish. "What *did* this to them?" * Lisl winces, looking very much like she'd like to slap her hands to her ears. <Lisl> I don't know, but Zoya might. ::urgently:: Orlann... let's go. I don't want to have to fight them. <Orlann> I can't *leave* them like this... these were my *friends*... how can I just *leave*? <Lisl> ::snapping:: You can leave because they *were* your friends, and you won't help them by making them fight you, dammit! I give you my word, we'll come back... but we can't deal with this alone! * Orlann looks around at the remains of the lookout, the shell of a building, the untouched signal flare, the line of specters. He glares at Lisl, then stomps over to the signal, a flat metal dish of oil. He reaches into his pocket for a chunk of flint and scrapes it against his sword. Sparks fly and ignite the viscous oil. Over the flames, he looks at the remains of his friends. <Orlann> Return to your rest... the village is ... warned. ::he blanches over the lie, but does not look away from the specters:: <Lisl> Orlann-- ::holds up a warding hand, too late, as the oil whooshes into flame:: Hells. ::lowers her hand, weapons vanishing as she watches the spectres:: <Spectres> ::the spectres spear points follow Orlann as he walks into the lookout. As he lights the signal fire, a wave passes through their forms, and the screaming diminishes and stops. They lower their spears and march back into the outpost, frost marking their footsteps on the ground. Once the last enters the outpost, the spectres fade away:: * Orlann shudders and collapses as his strength gives out. "Damn, damn damn damn." * Lisl sighs, scrubbing a hand over her face and looking out over the ruins of the village from their high vantage. She looks tired. <Lisl> ::quietly:: I'm sorry. You did the right thing. <Orlann> ::dully:: There is no right thing. Not when this... not that this has happened... I don't... I couldn't just... <Lisl> ::nodding, silent for a few moments as she studies the lookout tower, nose wrinkling at the stench of burning oil:: I wanted to know what they knew. You... wanted to help your friends. You did the right thing. * Orlann covers his face, but there are no more tears. His grief and shock are simply too large to be expressed. * Lisl sighs again, walking over and taking a seat on a rock next to Orlann, sitting quietly while he grieves. <Orlann> ::after a long while, Orlann stands up. His face is bleak and his eyes look ancient.:: I... I would like to leave, now. * Lisl nods again, standing. She starts down the hill without a word, moving slowly. * Orlann follows her, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. * Lisl continues back down the trail, respecting Orlann's privacy, not even pausing except to hold an occasional briar back to keep it from catching on him. * Orlann notices nothing, lost in memory and fear and grief. * Lisl stops as they reach the bottom again, looking over her shoulder and back uphill for a moment. She nods once to herself, and turns to lead them around the ruined village, back to the bridge. * Orlann kicks the rock off the pony's reins and attempts to mount, but his leg seems to have taken as much strain as it's going to, and he collapses with a sharp cry. * Lisl is at his side in an instant, catching him and supporting him on her shoulder before he hits the ground. "Easy." <Orlann> ::gritting his teeth:: I... can't mount. I'm sorry. <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: Nothing to apologize for. I'm the idiot that hiked you up a mountain. Stand easy a moment, corporal, take a breather. <Orlann> ::with a bit of a huff:: Begging the sergeant's pardon, but I might need to *sit* easy... ::his humor, forced as it is, falls a little flat:: * Lisl half-grins. "Sit easy, then. Zoya shouldn't be long." She reaches inside her jerkin, retrieving Zoya's bead and kneeling to smash it between the hilt of her dagger and a rock. * Orlann decides falling is easier than sitting and flops onto the ground with a heavy sigh. As he sits, he begins to tremble until he's shaking like a reed in a high wind. <Lisl> Food when we get back, first thing. Trust me, you *don't* want it before the teleport. * Orlann looks a bit horrified at the suggestion of eating. * Zoya arrives in a swirling cloud of early spring blossoms, pale flowers that cling to her hair and clothes. She looks around quickly and warily, alert to the possibility that she might have been summoned to assist in danger. Seeing nothing, she relaxes slightly. "That was faster than I thought it would be." She eyes the shivering Orlann for a moment, then gives Lisl a questioning look. <Lisl> ::shakes her head:: It was... bad, Zoya. We-- ::she takes a breath and shakes her head again:: Just take us home. Please. <Zoya> ::nods:: Very well. ::She crouches in front of Orlann, her stormcloud eyes sympathetic, and hands him the reins of the nearest pony.:: Hold these tightly, Corporal. We don't want to lose the poor thing along the way. * Orlann nods numbly and takes the reins. * Lisl takes the other pony's reins, leading it over to stand by Orlann, putting a hand on his shoulder. <Zoya> I'll see what I can do to make the trip back a little easier. ::she shakes her hands, and her manacles clink softly as they appear, glowing with power. She stands and puts a hand on Lisl's shoulder, and says something very quiet. The world around them blurs, and with barely more than a single flop of the stomach, they're back in the Tower's garden.:: * Lisl staggers a step and recovers quickly, looking faintly surprised and nodding thanks to Zoya. * Zoya winks briefly at Lisl, a half-smile touching her lips. "Don't tell anyone, or my reputation is ruined." She looks back at Orlann and sighs. "You have the look of a man who should not be left alone for a day or three." * Lisl pats her pony's nose, soothing it again, and offers Orlann a hand up. * Orlann can't seem to raise his gaze any higher than Zoya's knee. <Lisl> ::soberly:: It was... gone, Zoya. Everything, just... ::shakes her head:: The sentries had been made into restless dead... Orlann was able to help them. * Zoya kneels next to Orlann and puts one hand under his chin. Her fingers are cool and steady and impersonal as they lift his face to meet her gaze. "A terrible thing to see, Corporal. You'll not sleep for days, I can guarantee it. I strongly advise not trying until you've told the tale at least once. Do you have any friends, here in Marsember, who can take care of you for a few days?" <Orlann> ::softly:: They were my friends. I couldn't leave them... * Orlann blinks at Zoya, his gaze despairing. "I... " He swallows hard. "Miss Tarri might, but..." His eyes slide almost guiltily to Lisl. * Lisl looks faintly ashamed. "If you can forgive me for putting you through that, Corporal... my home's open to you. I owe you that at least." <Zoya> ::follows his gaze, then snorts:: Lisl will get nothing more than she bargained for, if she snuck you out from under your healer's eye. * Orlann nods. "Miss Tarri said... if I had need..." He groans, burying his face in his hands. <Zoya> ::half-smiles, sadly, and puts her hand on his shoulder:: You've need. Can you walk, do you think? * Lisl shakes her head. "No guilt, Corporal. Tarri and Bran'll take you in, no fear. Don't worry about it." * Orlann slowly gets to his feet. "I think so." <Zoya> Good. ::She crosses to a door and lays a hand against its frame for a moment before opening it to reveal the Tower exterior.:: I can send someone with you, if you like. <Orlann> ::shudders:: No... no, please. I... want to be alone, for a bit... <Zoya> ::nods:: Be careful, Corporal. Take what time you need. * Orlann leaves the Tower without looking back. * Zoya watches him go, then closes the door with a sigh. "Poor man..." She looks over at Lisl. "Did you learn anything useful, at least?" * Lisl leans against the door frame, watching him leave. <Lisl> I... think so. I need to go back... the orcs left a trail like a highway, going out of there... but... ::shakes her head:: such... total, systematic... ::looking back at Zoya:: It was horrible, Zoya. <Zoya> ::nods, and turns toward another door:: Come on in, and you can have something to eat while you tell me about it... * Lisl nods numbly and follows Zoya, leaving the ponies to chew on the shrubbery, her movements slow and old. |
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