rrin felt the sure pooling of tears. He looked down at the silent Moeash. No, not in front of him. Not now, I need to save them.
That was the only objective.
Just then, he sensed the gradual warming of his hand. The sound ca. A familiar click. A rolling of tal chis, similar to the pounding of iron against stone. rrin looked straight, and a figure, tall, looming, face ensconced in a glass helm. He wore black, arms, shoulders, and knees padded with a hard fabric. A sword rested on his right, a chain dragging from his left. By so unknown ans of visual confirmation, the resolute awareness that before him stood a familiar excubitor pressed in. It was undeniable, like a strange beckoning. Before him was the sa guardsman who dragged him with chains. He ca again—a reenactnt of the past.
rrin lowered Moeash gently. "I surrender. Don't kill anyone. I surrender," he said, "But get help for them—a cleanseWitch. The mines must have one."
The helm caught the light of so far-off lamp. It glead like a head alit with pure radiance. The excubitor dragged the sword forward, pressing it into the earth before him. A swift motion that betrayed the land's natural solidity.
He said, voice like howling wind. "No. They would serve better as fuel for the lamps!"
rrin scowled. "But, I brought light. Nightfell has more radiance than it ever has. Please, you don't need them. No, take , I can do it again. I can give light. Just save him—them."
Again. "No," he said—a powerful vocal assertion that announced finality. "The mines maintain their decorum with the right punishnt. But you, you mock it. A caster, sure, but still a darkCrown. You disobey the rules. No casting, you were told, casting you did." He pulled the chains forward. It rattled and coiled disharmoniously over the floor. "That cannot be allowed. First—"
"Wait!" Ashn instincts triggered, and rrin, in a fit of swift motions, grabbed Moeash and rolled. A blade struck the ground, a crack ford, and a sigh sounded. rrin panted. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The words were wrenched from him.
The excubitor, standing there, rested his hands on the queer blade and said, "As I said, you need punishnt. It can't be administered directly to you, but this would do." He vanished.
His coming! The sureness scread within—but the hesitation locked strong. What could he do? This was an Excubior. Strength incarnate. I can't stop them. The man flash ford before him, sword coming down in a life-reaping swing.
Instincts!
rrin rolled again and heard the sword slash into the earth. The sound ca, and a figntal image of slashed land blurred into his mind. This was a distraction, one the mind blurred out with trained precipitancy. He knew then, in the contest of speed, the excubitor enskied above him. But what about others?
What am I doing? This is an Excubitor. I can't do anything. The man vanished again—the wind whistled an ergence. And it did. In the sa suddenness as before, the Excubitor's blade ca down, and rrin repeated—or so he thought. The sword changed path, swinging to the side, not from above. Oh, the wrongness in that. rrin was now rolling towards it, instead of away.
The blade thinned through the air, coming. Absolute. Unstoppable. Coming. Protect Moeash! Singular, the thought burned, and rrin, in so hidden strength, raised his shoulders, shielding Moeash's face. The blade connected. Blood spewed.
rrin ached with the pain, looked up, and saw the startlent in the Excubitor's motions. He said he was not to harm directly. This was a breach of that. A useful breach. He jumped, rolled, cradled Moeash, and ran. Down the stone ladder. Down into the deeper mines, that was where he was to go. Protect Moeash. Protect moeash. The recursive thought sang.
He could not fight an Excubitor. A re foolish attempt that would only bring further harm. No, I need to escape. Moeash needs aid. Maybe I can even heal him, but not here. I need to protect him. Protect them all.
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He heard a rattling. What? Sothing coiled around his leg. He looked down. Hard. A chain. No! The world swirled. He flung into the air, strength waning just enough for Moeash to slip out of grip, rolling over the floor.
No!
He flew down, banging against the earth. That brought terrible pain—an arching of the head like hamr against bone. He struggled against it, panting, hand pushed on land. He looked up and saw then, Moeash sprawled over the ground, blood spilling. Cloth dirtied. And above him stood the Excubitor—a silent figure. Death incarnate. He raised his sword.
"No!" rrin scread, grabbed the chain tied around his leg, freed it, and tossed it. As the reflective blade ca down, the iron chain coiled around the excubitor's hand, halting the descent. He froze a mont, indecision stemming from surprise. That was enough.
rrin felt the screaming warnings. Disengage. Disengage. Do not fight an Excubitor. That is death. But he forced silence upon them, gritted and rebounded the chains. The Excubitor staggered—a re few steps. Then nothing. rrin still pulled, groaning, but the man, the giant of a guardsman, seed solid. Unmovable.
"What do you think would happen here?" The Excubitor said.
rrin said through clenched teeth. "You can't have him! Take , leave him. Leave them."
There was silence—horrible, nerve-breaking silence. "I DON'T WANT THEM!" The Excubitor with one hurl, lunched rrin forward. He saw a fist—it got bigger, he slamd back, head banging on the floor. Oh, the headache. He gasped, saw again the gradual motioning of the Excubitor. He was bringing the sword down. On moeash—certain death.
This dulled the pain, and rrin ran, took up the chain, and swung it. I can't fight him, but I must hold him. Tie him up sohow. He's too strong, but…this this. The procession broke. Action ruled.
The chain curved around the Excubitor's hand, tying it. He growled now. A powerful form of sound, like the scream of a storm. I must tie down the storm! I must hold down the storm!
rrin found the awareness pushed away, instincts remained. Protect. Protect. The Excubitor grunted, and rrin roared, rooted his feet, hunched his back, and drew forward. The chain flung, dragging the Excubitor. He flew overhead, smashing into the floor, stone shattered, ground quaking..
Did I?
He moved, and the awareness blurred. rrin ran forward, took the chains, jumped, his knee pushing into the Excubitor's chest. A sound ca—a wordless noise. It didn't matter. rrin looked to that queer helm, saw the reflection. Rage looked back. Wide eyes, teeth clenched. Kill him!
A mont. rrin rounded the chains around the Excubitor's neck. An instant faster than the blade that swung forward—his cloth, however, a line appeared on the front. Inches from flesh. A risk…But a worthy one. He pulled back, strained the chains, noted the Excubitor retaliating with his hands clenched over the tal. No ti. The rage spoke now—How dare they try to kill his people? rrin doubled the rackle around his hand, took ideation from the dance of self.
This brought a collection of possible actions. He chose and swung. The Excubitor staggered up, fury burning in the loud roar he released. It mattered not. Not to rrin. Not to anyone. He ran forward, a strange thing he recognized—sa too, for the Excubitor staggered back to the sudden approach.
A mistake.
rrin stopped, jumped, drawing the chain with him. Oh, the excubitor was dumbfounded by this display. This was the way of the ash. To fall—but where, when? The chain fell, wrapping around the sole free hand of the Guardsman. He was bound now, both hands tied strongly with chains. Rusted, yes, but strong in the age-worn manner.
Again, the roar. "You misting fool!" The excubitor called, "You dare attack an Excubitor?"
"I must save them!" rrin barely said through the delectation of what had been done. Heavens, he had confined an Excubitor. This is—He heard the force clanking of the chains. They tightened, pulling forward. What? Now, the Excubitor rooted on his knees, head bent, arms staining. That brought startling prescience. He was to break the chains.
No, no, no!
"This is legal grounds for the death of those followers of yours!" The excubitor sneered, and rrin saw the envisioned scene of blood spewed, bodies marred. Death. Lifeless. The sun witnesses, dead without a witness.
I can't! rrin ran, jumped over the Excubitor, rolling the chains around his neck. His face t the glass helm, the chains tight around the strong guardsman's neck. "Don't do that, please. Don't do that!"
A laugh. "It's gonna happen." The chains contracted—it seed a scream. An inevitability of freedom for the Excubitor.
rrin, again. "You can stop! By the almighty, you can stop!"
"My oath would not allow." A sneering remark. "I will carve his head and make you eat from it. We have days for that."
"Please."
"No!"
rrin wept within. Turned, grabbed the queer blade on the floor, and slashed up. There was silence. A defeating starkness that bood with no words. He trembled there and knew himself a sinner again. Another life. He refused to look front. Oh, what has he done
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