Fantasy The Black Seer

[Lekiel]

Finally he was out!

Her labored breaths came in puffs of wispy mist as she knelt on the ice, the cold wet seeping through the leather of her breaches. Her knees had buckled under her, and for some inexplicable reason, they were shaking. Perhaps it was the cold, or the panic that had gripped her heart when Harp was nearly lost to the deep inky chill. She didn't know why she cared, they'd only just met. But it was only a human reaction was it not? To be worried at the sight of the near loss of life. Sable eyes stared at the dusky Heaten`hua as he rolled onto his back to rest on the ice of the dance with death. The rise and fall of his chest mirrored her own.

"We should-" Brielle's alto cadence halted, and whatever she would've uttered was drowned out in the gravity of a sharp ominous sound.

CRACCKKK

Her gaze darted to the ice beneath them as the skeletal cracks split its jagged way to the shore.

"Maferath's breath-!" She scrambled to regain her feet, but Harp was already up and tugging on her sleeve. With a sinking feeling, she realized he was tugging her out further into the ice.

Not that they had a choice.

"Run - Run!"

She didn't need any more encouragement. Slipping and sliding on the ice, the Seer scrambled to her feet. The heel of her boot sank as she pushed forward. Brielle stumbled and she heard a splash almost as soon as she felt the wet chill surround her foot. Her knees crashed painfully against the crystalline surface but she gritted her teeth against the pain and scrambled as if the Wretched were hot on her heels. Her little platform, no bigger than six feet across had cracked, and she was already beginning to float away.

"Blast it!" She stood up but nearly tottered over as the icy platform bobbed on the surface of the lake. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she heard Harp up ahead. Perhaps shouting encouragement, or screaming as he fell into the water. She couldn't tell. Her heartbeat was pounding all too loud in her ears.

Move Brielle... MOVE! The pale girl broke into a run, leaping across the divide as the platform broke into even more fragments. She'd made it, Sigrud's Run was not done. The shattering ice seemed almost sentient, like a malevolent entity as it hounded their footsteps, egging the duo on at a harried pace. They sprinted across the ice, as quickly as they could without losing their feet. And several times they did anyway, but pulled the other back to their feet as the spiderweb of cracking ice threatened to overtake them. The looming shadows of the far shore grew steadily, but not quick enough. They raced through the mists and falling snow, dark cloaks billowing behind their backs like the wings of giant bats.

"T-THERE-!" A pale finger shot out at a darkened sprawled shadow lying low breaking the smooth surface of crystalline ice. She could barely cry out, her voice choking on a shortened breath. Brielle was certainly in much better shape than most city nobles, but even then she already felt as if her heart was about to explode. There was no way she could keep this up for even half a minute. Without thinking, she banked and headed towards the dark shape. The mists thinned as she neared, revealing a small island of sorts. It was tiny all things considered, barely twenty feet wide with an odd spherical boulder, sparse twigs and evergreen lakeweeds ornamenting its surface. But it didn't matter, it was solid ground.

With a cry of relief, she tumbled onto the snow-covered earth and collapsed in a heap. Her vision flared white, as her oxygen-starved brain struggled to remain conscious. She heard the sounds of another coming up alongside her, but could not turn to check if it was Harp. It probably was. But at that moment, lying face down, eyes shut tied against the pounding in her head, all she cared was that the ice was no longer shifting beneath her feet.

boo.

 

[boo.]

Faster. . . Faster. . . Faster!
There was no traction underfoot, but Harp found himself scrambling across the ice, managing to more or less stay on his feet. He was having a hard time seeing straight, and gods he was cold. Pangs of frozen air struck him like needles cramping up his already stiff muscles and making it even harder to find any sense of balance. Great Eweca and Anara, did this lake go on forever? Harp saw Brielle -- at least he thought it was her, as he could only make out a dark blur -- matching his pace, then starting to outrun him. The air was so cold, making it hard to breathe. His chest hurt, and his steps turned to labored tramping. Heaten`hua were usually known for their ability to step lightly on drifts of sand without sliding a grain of sand, but right now Harp felt like a lumbering beast.
Brielle was veering slightly away, and Harp followed after. Where was she going? Wasn't it faster to make a straight shot for the shore? Already he could see dark cracks of ice forming to the right and left, as if they were armies working to flank the duo. Harp was breathing in groans now, arms stretching out as if to grasp a helping hand. As he did so, he could feel his feet sliding beneath him -- not now, he was so close! He could now see Brielle's target, which seemed to be a small island in the middle of the lake. Just a few more yards -- and yet Harp felt slide out of his control. He lunged forward with frozen blue hands and miraculously felt himself hit a surface that wasn't cracking beneath him.
Pulling himself forward so that his feet no longer hung over the mincing ice, Harp collapsed beside Brielle, forced to take huge gulps of the cold air that tore at his lungs. His fingers dug into the snow and hit the frozen earth, pulling up small brown plants until he gained some semblance of control over his body. His clothes were stiffening up, icy against his tender skin, but at least he wasn't drowning.
Harp knew he needed to get up and moving, just to keep himself functioning. He rolled to his back and looked over to Brielle. She looked just as exhausted, face-down in the dirt and snow, but he could see the rise and fall of her back. Relief flooded over him, and a spark of warmth raced across his chest. But then he was confused. Why was he concerned? He wasn't here to ensure her survival, just to take her as far as he could. So why did he care?
Sitting up, Harp wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. He thought of all his puppets, now at the bottom of the lake. Frustrating -- they took forever to dry out! When would he find enough time to replace them all? The cold water would have ruined them all, so it was no use trying to bring them out. Harp felt as if a chunk of him was missing. He had been connected to them as they plunged into the water, and he could feel them fizzle out as he was running.
"Al - Alright?" Harp spat out the word, teeth clattering together. He turned his body toward Brielle, stretching out a hand to wrap around her shoulder but then pulled it back, shaking his head.
Lekiel

 

[Lekiel]

It felt like an eternity before the brilliant white-out faded like glistening droplets of light from her shuttered eyes. The pounding in her heart began to steady and she tasted the frosty ground against her frozen lips. A tinge of bitterness lingered on the tip of her tongue as her warm breath melted the ice before her. Realizing that her breaths could not go any deeper unless she freed herself from canoodling the ground, the seer rolled over onto her back with a thump and a sigh. Puffs of mist bloomed into the shrouded grey sky. Eweca was shy tonight. Her silvery facade peaking out intermittently between tiny gaps of the snow-laden clouds, casting a pale overlay on their highland lake landscape. The glimmering gossamer of crystalline whites continued their steady fall, cheerily apathetic to the harrowing events that had only just occurred to the motionless figures lying on the mini island below.

"Al - Alright?" A stuttered chatter. A rustle of movement. It was only then that she realized she was nearly shoulder to shoulder with her one and only companion. She did not respond to his question at first. Dark irises turned slightly to glance at him sidelong, noticing that he was looking at her. A sliver of cold pinched at her nape where the ice must have slipped into the collar of her cloak. T'was only then did she realize how cold it must be, especially for Harp whose clothing had been thoroughly soaked. He did not have the luxury of Seer Fire coursing through his veins, warming his blood. Even then, she occasionally felt the steep chill. Would that the greenish flames she produced could warm others.

Scrambling to a sitting position, she rummaged through her pack. A gift from a friendly passerby not many weeks ago. She hoped it was still there. Chill hands closed over the smooth surface of what appeared to be a lump of hardened glass. Pulling it out revealed a ruby red crystal that fitted snuggly into the palm of her hand. Giving it a shake, there was a barely audible crackle and then the glass began to glow with a muted warmth.

Turning to the Stringmaster, she reached for his frozen digits, clasping them in her own with an insistence that brook no dissent. He needed to be warmed, otherwise drowning in the icy depths would be the least of their worries.

"It's a little something I got from someone I met...." She began, no idea why she deigned to explain such unimportant trivialities. But she only knew that she had to talk, and keep him listening. Or talking. To do nothing would be like freezing. Freezing was bad. She placed the crystal in his palms, held his shivering fingers and rubbed them with a rolling motion. "They got it from the Bloodsworn... It's called a Kindlegem. Apparently, there's a Flame Sprite in..- Y-You're soaked." Brielle's voice took on a terse edge even as a slight shiver made itself known. She stared at his drenched garments.

"You need to get out of that... Do you have anything dry?" She eyed his pack by the side, wondering if it had survived the dipping without being soaked through.

boo.

 

[boo.]

Brielle was moving faster than he was. Understandable. She wasn't the one that had fallen beneath the ice, lost precious puppets, and run on achingly stiff legs -- perhaps that wasn't fair. That kind of petty bitterness wouldn't help matters, nor would it aid in their professional relationship. There needed to be a layer of trust here, and Harp felt as though they had that. This incident had certainly strengthened it, and he could feel it. He didn't feel indebted to Brielle, but rather a certain kind of grateful. It made him want to stay with her more. It made him want to make sure the same didn't happen to her.
Harp rubbed his face, trying to get some kind of feeling in it. The black spots that followed lingered too long, but it wasn't as if they were going anywhere at the moment. As he looked about, the dim of night had fallen quicker than he thought, bringing with it a silent snowfall. Harp wasn't so impressed with the wintery scene; although the moonlight was masked by a layer of clouds, he found the white shimmer of snow harsh and cold on the eyes. But, he couldn't deny that there seemed to be a bit of magic as he gazed across the shattered ice lake. Snowflakes were beginning to blanket the trees that bordered the water, as well as his own wet cloak.
Feeling an odd spark of warm near his hand, Harp looked down to see Brielle grasp his hand, pressing something red into it. He cupped his hands around it, gazing at the deep haematic tinge with a sense of wonder. It emanated heat -- not a harsh, scalding heat, but something that reminded him of a fire in a clay oven. He must have missed Brielle's explanation, but he didn't really care where this thing came from. His ears were still ringing horribly, anyway. If talking did her well, then she could talk all she wanted.
"You need to get out of that... Do you have anything dry?" Brielle's words finally broke through, although her question was clear as she stared at him.
"Not any more," he coughed, hugging the crystal against his chest. "I mean, you could look through my pack. Maybe something is slightly less damp." He slung the pack from his shoulder, along with the scythe strapped to it. He wasn't really a fighter, but as with any traveler, he had his own rough-and-tumble combat methods.
As his joints began to let up a bit, Harp leaned over and unstrapped his boots, sliding them off and holding them upside-down, shaking out water and damp bits of fuzz. Slipping them back on felt like strapping blocks of ice to his feet, but he knew it was better than leaving his feet out in the air.
"Guess we're staying for the night." There was no way Harp could be convinced back onto the ice, not for all the riches in the world. Hopefully, with the snow and cold night air, the ice would harden up by morning light.
Lekiel

 

[Lekiel]

"I hope you're joking..." The Seer let go of Harp's hands and drew back onto her knees. An odd look was plastered over his face as she looked at him with a combination of incredulity and genuine concern. There was no way they could last the whole night. There was no real shelter from the wind and the temperature would no doubt plunge even further as the darkness fully set in. They were perhaps a couple of hours away from midnight. A fleck of green flame kindled in her dark eyes as she furrowed her brow, wondering if the near-death ordeal had somehow knocked his senses off center. Nevertheless...

"But you have a point..." Brielle added, turning to rummage into the stringmaster's backpack. After all, he'd given her the go ahead. "We could definitely wait a little longer... I mean, it would get colder... we can try crossing again then." As loathe as she was to be back out on the ice they simply could not afford to wait it out... Besides, the seer paused for a moment in her search for dry garments to briefly survey the tiny island, something about this whole lake just didn't sit quite right. Whatever it was that elicited that feeling of unease, she didn't want to stick long enough to find out.

She found a smattering of supplies and spare clothing from the nomad's pack. Most of the cloth were too soaked to be of use, except one. Reaching into her own, she tossed him one of her old linen gowns; those which cloth was thin enough that it could be rolled up into a tiny ball, perfect for travel. "Here... dry yourself out." The fact that she was offering one of her own clothing to him as a body towel was not lost on the young seer, and some manner of embarrassment did cross her mind. But such self-consciousness seemed paltry in light of their very real predicament. Passing him the garments, she turned away purposefully to afford him some privacy, walking over to the other shoreline and edging over towards the edge.

"Not quite the job you expected huh?" She cast over her shoulder. A small part of her couldn't help but worry, they were barely a day out and already beset by problems nearly too big to bear. What more of the dangers and obstacles that lay in waiting the further they got away from the towns? The task she had set out to do was daunting. And truthfully, she always knew all along that the enormity of it was way beyond her, a lowly seer. But she didn't have a choice, and so the only thing she could hope for was in the impossible.