Author:
Tristan
[ Edit | View ]
|
Date Posted: 13:50:22 05/14/02 Tue
Tristan was silently grateful to Ravin for changing the subject so quickly. Although his lightly veiled command to not discuss Sistino has gone as yet unchallenged, an uncomfortable hush had descended around the table. Marz was either too feared, respected, or even loved by many of those present for anyone to attempt to humiliate him further. Still, nobody could seem to think of anything appropriate to say, that is, until Ravin brought the conversation back to Tegol, of course.
Like Marz, Tristan definitely agreed with the clever thief. He really didn't like the idea of having to slink about the city for months on end while their friends slowly whittled away at the crimelord's defenses. The thought of Marz being captured and tortured worried him so much it made him feel sick to his stomach, and besides, how was he supposed to look for Eremis if neither of them dared show their faces in public?
"I left the crystal ball buried in my backpack," Marz murmured into his ear, shaking him from his thoughts, "which I haphazardly tossed in the room somewhere. I'll go upstairs and try to find it then we'll check on Eremis when I get back."
Tristan smiled without realizing it when he kissed his cheek, turning to watch him go until he ascended the stairs and disappeared completely from view. He was momentarily made lonely by the empty seat beside his own, but he rolled his eyes and ordered himself to stop being silly. The talk around the table continued to hover around what to do about Tegol, with half agreeing to strike at the heart, and the others remaining uncertain about the idea. Everybody knew, after all, that it would be no easy task, going directly for Tegol himself. If lives had been lost the first way, this way would certainly be no different.
Tristan nibbled quietly on the ham piled onto Marz's plate while sipping occasionally on his glass of wine. He didn't want to look like a pig in front of all his friends, so he lit up a cigarette to curb his remaining appetite. He'd only taken a couple drags before a strange pounding sensation began to throb in the back of his head, making his eyes tear up in slight surprise. He blinked rapidly and shook his head a couple times, and the feeling soon passed quickly, although he still felt slightly disoriented. But when he looked up and met Erlic's knowing glance, his eyes widened. He had felt it, too.
"I'll go check on him," he said, standing up and nodding at the other man. Erlic looked more worried than he felt, probably because his link with Marz was stronger than the strange bond the two lovers shared. But the lingering headache both of them were still feeling wasn't strong enough to alert them too much-mainly because Marz was miles away by now, although neither of them knew that, of course.
When his lover didn't answer his mental inquiries, Tristan did start to worry a bit more. Sometimes Marz just couldn't focus enough to communicate with his mind, though, so it was probably no big deal. Still, there was a slight possibility that he'd stumbled for some odd reason and bumped his head hard enough to knock him unconscious. That wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't already been knocked out twice already today. A third time could have very serious consequences. Tristan didn't have to be a healer to know that much.
When he got to their room, there was no sign of its owner. He stared quizzically about before noticing the open window and hurrying to its side. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he peaked out and didn't see the limp body of his lover on the ground. Well, so where the hell is he? he wondered, starting to get a touch annoyed. Once again, he called to him with his mind, but Marz didn't respond.
Sighing, he made his way to the bathing room and checked there, but it was empty. Maybe he'd decided to use the crystal ball for a personal matter and had chosen an empty room for privacy. Although it was tedious, Tristan went around and checked all the unoccupied rooms, at least the ones that weren't locked, anyway. When he still couldn't find any sign of him, he just paused in the hallway and put his hands on his hips, a frown slowly working its way onto his face. Why did he have such a bad feeling about this?
He sighed again and headed back to their room, just for another quick look. His eyebrows rose when he actually found the crystal ball, still tucked into a backpack lying on the floor. Something had happened-something was definitely wrong! Without thinking much, Tristan hurried to their other things which had been taken from the camels and deposited here by their friends. He grabbed a few more weapons, slipping daggers in his boots and belt, before shrugging into his old leather coat. Marz was missing and possibly unconscious-he was going out to find him.
He descended the stairs two at time, swinging by the table first to inform Erlic of his decision. But Marz's teacher had a stricken look on his face, and his eyes were slightly glazed over as if he were mentally communicating. Tristan clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes on instinct, concentrating hard-yes! He felt it! Pain.horrible pain! It was a dull, throbbing feeling, as if it were him but not really him. And it was so far away. Shit-oh shit, it was Marz!
When Erlic suddenly met their eyes again and informed them that Marz was speaking to him, telling him he'd been captured, Tristan almost choked. His anger flared up, momentarily replacing his concern when he also said that the idiot had actually allowed himself to be caught!
"Damn it!" Tristan growled softly, clenching his fists together. "Why does he always have to be a gods damned hero?"
His anger was effectively snuffed out cold when a dim voice echoed suddenly into his head: "Tris, stay away. They have archers waiting for you. Don't take any ch.."
Then his mind went blank. He was dizzy for a couple seconds, and he realized Marz had gone unconscious again. He looked up and met Erlic's firm gaze, cold logic trying to battle against passionate emotion. Tristan broke away first and turned swiftly, his coat whipping around his legs as his booted feet took him rapidly toward the door. Dalo shouted his name, but he ignored him, heading straight for outside. The cool night air had only a moment or two to hiss against his face before he changed to form, his heavy wing beats lifting him off the ground and into the sky in a matter of seconds.
Once airborne, he turned his senses to Marz, tracing the magical trail his lover had left with his keen sense of smell. He flew mostly unnoticed, although he flew low, his dark body blotting out the stars momentarily from the night sky the only real sign of his passing above the city. Occasionally, someone below would stop and shout and point, but whatever sort of night demon they thought they'd sighted was gone before anyone else had noticed.
After a while, he lost the trail, but he continued to head in the same direction, determined to find its source. His instincts had taken over the second he'd taken his dragon form; the only desire he had right now was to find his mate and hunt down those who had taken him. He had no strategy, no plan, no clever course of action; he didn't even know what the hell he'd do when he got there. No, that was wrong; he knew exactly what he would do: search and destroy every enemy he encountered, until Marz was safe in his arms once again.
He passed over the city after a while, and was about to turn back when he noticed a rather large manor peaking out above the treetops of the forest that surrounded it. His sharp eyes picked out the figures patrolling the rooftop, but cleverness was not a key dragonic trait, especially while battling with the strong hunting urge as he was now. He furled his wings and dove toward the house with a roar, his talons stretched wide and his teeth bared, because this was where his senses were leading him. Although the trail was lost, and he could no longer really "feel" his lover, he KNEW he was here, or down there, in that house, surrounded by those men.
He caught them off guard, igniting five men on his first dive, their flaming, screaming bodies falling to the ground several stories below. One man he grabbed with his claws, carrying him a short distance before releasing him to fall to his own rapid death. On his second flyby, though, they were waiting and ready. Arrows whizzed past him, and he twisted and turned in the air, roaring his anger at being shot at as if HE were the one being hunted, and not the other way around.
Inevitably, one arrow found its mark, and then another, both burrowing themselves to the hilt into skin and muscle before scraping against bone. Tristan's roar became a painful shriek, and he veered off sideways, crashing into the nearby trees to land on only three legs, since his right arm and shoulder had been punctured by arrows.
Rapidly, he slipped back into his human form, hissing through his teeth as his entire right arm continued to throb. Now that his dragon instincts could be pushed to the back of his head, he was finally overcome with fear for Marz, trapped in that manner, probably beaten into unconsciousness. He gasped, forcing himself to take breaths while trying to regain his original composure. With two, rapid motions, he yanked the arrows out of his arm and shoulder, biting his tongue so hard to keep from crying out that he tasted blood in his mouth.
He heard movement then-to the right, and to the left.and just in front, too. Silently, he unsheathed his sword and slipped away, his boots making scarcely any sound at all as he circled around the sentry closing in on his immediate right. He slunk up behind the man and slit his throat, doing the same to the one on his left minutes later. But the third one found his dead companion and became more cautious, making it almost impossible to sneak up on him.
Tristan pressed himself against a thick oak tree, waiting until the other man was almost upon him before lunging forward and swinging his sword at his head. The trained mercenary blocked his initial strike with some difficulty, the clashing of their swords ringing out loudly into the night air. Tristan growled and cursed, his eyes glowing red; he didn't have time for this. He parried once, twice, feinted right and struck. The mercenary stopped abruptly, his sword still clutched tightly in his hand as his head rolled neatly off his shoulders.
Now that he'd stopped moving, the pain of his injuries washed over him. He growled again and shook his head, the cries of those still burning on the rooftops distracting him momentarily. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes and seized a hold of Erlic's mind, speaking directly into his mind.
"I found him," he said, his mental voice tinged with rage, pain, and a burning sort of frustration, "In a manor, just outside the city. Probably an hour or so away, on a fast horse, driven directly through the city."
He paused briefly to collect himself and dampen his pain and anger long enough to send Marz's teacher a clear mental image of the place. He showed him the route he'd taken, too, although of course it was seen through the eyes of a dragon flying overhead.
"It's heavily guarded," he continued. He started to feel anxious and stubborn at the same time, but he KNEW he couldn't continue to attack this place on his own. "There were.archers on the roof. I cannot change to form. I will.try to wait for you."
There. He cut the link off, satisfied that he'd said enough. Next, he tried to contact Marz, but his lover was still unconscious, much to his growing sense of fear and frustration. "Marz!" he called, over and over again, trying to rouse him, "Hold on! I'm here! I'm coming for you, just hold on!"
His eyes flew open again at the snap of a nearby branch. His sword came up automatically to block yet another charging guard, though this time he pulled one of the daggers he stuffed into his boot and jabbed it into the man's neck. Silently, he eased the dead body down and slipped away, where he continued to prowl the forest like a waiting predator, circling the manor and taking out any unlucky sentries one by one.
[ Post a Reply to This Message ]
|
Feedback: 