NaNoWriMo '09// Wonderland Burning
Nov. 1st, 2009 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caffeine_buzzTitle: Wonderland Burning Prologue & Chapter 1
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG. Probably. For now.
Notes: My first ever stab at NaNoWriMo. I'm taking the "quantity over quality" approach to heart in hopes I can actually finish this, so be warned. I've only mildly edited for spelling and such and it's...not the greatest (translation: I'm worried it sucks but don't tell me, I am fragile like a dove and will cry).
Prologue
you made a deal
Everything was burning.
He could feel it, smell it, feel it, the heat of the flames and the noise and the smoke that settled insistently in his lungs. He coughed and choked at it, and groped wildly in the darkness.
He had never been in this part of the manor before, or if he had, there had been someone else with him. He knew the halls leading to his room by touch; he knew the outline of the dining hall and the hallway that led to the garden. He’d always been able to find his way, despite the blindness. If he went anywhere outside of the usual spots there was always someone holding his hand, Xerxes or mother—
--or mother—
--she dragged him forward, her grip tight and painful, and then she stopped and he stumbled. The hand that held him trembled. He held her hand tightly, as he’d always been taught, and he felt her shudder and cough.
And then she pushed him away, and there was nothing but flames and darkness and Xerxes yelling his name as they moved away and left him behind—
He coughed and groped forward again. His hand brushed the wall and he jerked it away, startled by the heat. His head swam and he gasped for breath.
“Well, well. This won’t do at all.”
He turned towards the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He hadn’t even sensed the presence behind him until the man spoke.
“You’re in a spot, aren’t you?” The voice was amused. Somehow it could be heard despite the roaring of the flames, and the speaker seemed unaffected by the smoke.
“Who--?” He tried to talk but was overcome by coughing.
“Just your humble servant.” The voice was laced with dark amusement. “There’s not really time for you to be asking questions, is there? So just listen. You want to get out of here right? To your beloved family and all that?”
He couldn’t talk, so he only nodded.
“Good, good. Excellent. We’ll want to avoid this in the future, so I’ll give you a gift too, at my own personal cost. I’ll save you and give you something to help keep you safe, and in return…in return, all I ask is you live for a while, and one day I’ll come for you and you’ll have to do something for me. You’ll be in my debt, after all, and it’s only a small thing I want from you. Well…small in a sense. But that’s no concern of yours. So, do we have a deal?”
There was really no choice, so he nodded.
“Very good. Remember…we have a deal.”
He could hear the smile.
1.
I know what I've seen
The lone rider made his way along the forest path. His horse was covered in sweat and leaves from the long trip, for they had traveled far far away from the farm that was their home.
The rider paused for only a moment to gaze at the trees that surrounded him, one hand resting warily on the sheathed sword that hung at his side. He brushed his dark blond bangs back against his forehead, watching as his breath curled like smoke in the cold air. He was dressed for mid-spring pleasure riding, which made it all the more curious that he would be found in such a place now, riding in midwinter on an old forgotten trail towards the snow-covered forest, paying attention only to the path ahead and the trees beside, not bothering to look back at the hill he had just rode down where all kinds of assassins and nasties could be waiting and watching to kill him dead. This, of course, was not surprising, as the rider was in fact AN ENORMOUS IDIOT!!!
Alistair made sure to slam the pen down as hard on the exclamation points for extra emphasis, which only served to make the horse under him start slightly in alarm. The unexpected movement was enough to jostle the Book from his hands and there was a short desperate moment as Alis reached to catch it while simultaneously attempting not to drop his pen and he very nearly managed to lose his glasses in the process. The horse shifted again and Alis irritably stuck the pen in his mouth and finally grabbed the reins, Book shoved firmly under his arms.
Satisfied that the horse had clamed down, Alis took the pen from his mouth and re-opened the Book, trying to find where he’d left off. The passage didn’t flow properly at all, and he frowned.
“Idiot’s not a good word,” he muttered, dragging out the vowels. “And that whole sentence is a run-on. But it’s all true, so it’s no good.” He held the book up in front of his face, then peered over it down the hill, where the small figure of a rider up ahead was getting smaller and, considering his vision, well on its way to becoming a fuzzy Xerxes-colored dot in the distance.
“I think you haven’t added enough exclamation points, young Master Alistair,” a voice chimed in from behind. Rather than bothering to turn, Alis leaned his head back as far as he could, coming perilously close to losing his glasses again. A young woman rode up behind him. Her long black hair was tied up in a pair of braids and there was a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over her back. She wore dark-colored hunting clothes and there was a silver medallion covered in strange sigils hanging around her neck.
“It’s not enough?” Alis sighed, still leaning backward.
“You’ll fall off the horse,” the woman warned him mildly, even as she slowed the horse to a stop beside him.
“I know.” Alis returned to proper sitting position and stared irritably at the open Book in his hands. “It’s not working at all, Leda. I can’t find a stronger word than ‘idiot.’ Not one that’s suitable, I mean. Frances will get this eventually and she’ll be scolded if I put words she’s not supposed to know in here.”
“Just add another exclamation point, then,” Leda said. “A nice big one, that’ll match the lump that’s going to appear on your twin brother’s head when I get done with him.”
“Xerxes is in trouble” Alis said in lilting tones. “He went so far from home, straight past the fence. He shouldn’t go past the fence alone.”
“And neither should you, yet here you are,” Leda said wryly.
“But I knew you were following me, so I’m all right,” Alis said, waving a hand at her. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if anyone gets me.”
“Alistair,” Leda said sharply.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Alis chewed on the end of his pen. “But Xerxes gave me something to write about today besides the cows, so I’ll have to thank him. After you hit him, I mean.”
“Yes, well--” Leda stopped at the sound of another rider approaching.
“Young master!” A young man rode up to them, sounding irritated and slightly out of breath. Leda turned to meet him, but Alis kept his eyes on the Book.
“Calm down, Vincent, I’ve got him,” Leda said as her brother came up beside her. His sharp features were almost a mirror of hers, down to the long black hair that fell to his waist and the medallion around his neck. A sword hung at his side.
“You shouldn’t have let him come out this far,” Vincent said sharply.
“Me? Young Master Alis is your charge, I believe.”
“Xerxes!” Vincent shook his head. “Anyone could see him out here! And you, young master, what do you think you’re doing following him, you aren’t trained at all in stealth and we saw your trail miles back, clear as day, and if I hadn’t seen the horses missing we might not have even known you were gone and do you have any idea what your mother would do if she knew you were out here?”
“If she knew Xerxes was out here,” Alis said flatly, still not looking at him.
“Both of you,” Vincent said, his tone disapproving. He turned his gaze to his sister, glaring at her out of sharp blue eyes. “And you caught up to him and haven’t sent him back yet? Leda--”
“Calm down, little brother.” Leda made soothing motions with her hands. “Master Alis and I were just discussing his book. Though up any other words for ‘idiot’ yet, young master?”
“Vincent is a bother,” Alis muttered, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “Bother, bother. Like an old maid.”
“Young master!” Vincent put a hand to his forehead and sighed. “Let’s go back to the farmhouse. Leda, you can collect Xerxes on your own, can’t you?”
“I can, but I don’t see a need for that.” Leda nodded at Alis. “You go down and give him a piece of your mind first, Alis. We’ll be along behind, after we’ve made sure no one else’s been following us.”
“Leda, you can’t--” Vincent started.
“He’ll be fine, Vincent,” Leda said in warning tones. “Now, go on, Alis. We’ll be nearby.”
Alis regarded them warily over the pages of his Book for a moment, his gold eyes narrowed in thought. Finally he nodded. Placing the Book and pen reverently in his saddlebag, he spurred his horse forward down the hill.
Catching up with Xerxes was an easier task than he’d expected. His brother was taking his time along the path, stopping his horse frequently to stare at some tree or gaze up at the sun. He didn’t look back until Alis had nearly ridden up alongside him, but Alis was certain that his brother had known he was there for some time.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Alis,” Xerxes said by way of greeting.
“Xerxes is in trouble,” Alis said, rocking slightly in his saddle. “Leda’s going to hit you.”
“I thought she might.” Xerxes sighed heavily. “Is she here too? And I can’t imagine Vincent letting you out of his sight.”
“They’re looking for assassins and poisons. Or something.” Alis fidgeted for a moment, then gave Xerxes a wide grin. “You’re in trouble.”
“Yes, I got that the first time you said it.” Xerxes shook his head. “I knew I would be, but, well….How long have we lived here? Four years?”
“Three,” Alis said promptly. “I’ve got it dated in the Book. Not my current one, I mean. The other volume. One of the others.”
“Right. Three years, and I’ve never seen what the land looked like over here, even though we’re still not too far from the farm. I just wanted to look at something besides cows.”
“You went to the town with Leda two weeks ago,” Alis said, cocking his head curiously. “So that’s a different thing. I never get to go to town.”
“Alis…”
“I was just saying. So, anyway. Different than cows.”
“Yes, different than cows,” Xerxes said in agreement. “I thought I’d be back before you missed me. And I must have left quite a trail if even you could follow it. I’m assuming Leda and Vincent didn’t just let you tag along?”
“I saw you leave.” Alis shrugged. “So I watched which way you went and let you have a head start before I followed.”
“Alistair. That was incredibly stupid of you.”
“You’re the one who went past the fence,” Alis stated. “Leda’s going to punch you.”
“Vincent’s going to put you on a leash,” Xerxes shot back, smiling. “So we’re both in trouble.”
“But you’re more in trouble,” Alis said serenely. “Do you want to see what I wrote about you in the Book?”
“Another time.” Xerxes shook his head. “We should head back. It’s not safe for us to be here together. If anyone saw us there’d be trouble, even if they didn’t see your eyes.”
“I suppose,” Alis murmured. “But we don’t even look alike. Not really, I mean. When you look close. When I take off my glasses even our blurs don’t look quite right.”
“We look enough alike for it to cause uncomfortable questions,” Xerxes said. “And anyone who got close enough to ask those questions might also be close enough to see your eyes, so we don’t want to take that chance.”
“Didn’t you want to explore more?”
“I can do that another time,” Xerxes said. “I’ll just bring Leda next time. Or I’ll bring Vincent and give you a break, how does that sound? So we’d better go back.”
“If you want.” Xerxes was already turned his horse around, so Alis supposed he may as well do the same. He wondered if he should take the book out and map the path as they went back.
He was reaching for the saddlebag when he heard the sound, and thin whistling through the air followed by the sound of something sharp embedding itself in flesh. He had only just registered the horse’s scream and the sudden appearance of the arrow sticking out of its side before he was thrown to the ground.
“Alis!”
Alistair dimly heard Xerxes yell his name over the wild, pained scream of the horse as it reared up above him, hooves glinting dangerously. Alis rolled to the side, trying to get out of the way, but the horse was wild with pain and its hooves stabbed the ground just inches away from him, thrashing madly and completely unaware of the rider at its feet.
Alis just barely managed to scramble out of the way of another strike when the horse screamed again and another arrow hit its front leg, nearby impaling Alis’s hand in the process. He heard Xerxes yell something again, followed by two voices he had never heard before.
Alis finally managed to get his feet to listen properly, scrambling out of the way as the horse pawed at the ground one last time before taking flight into the woods. Alis dropped to his knees, panting.
“Alistair!” Xerxes’s sharp cry made him raise his head. His brother had dismounted and stood facing two unfamiliar men, both wielding wicked-looking knives. Xerxes had his sword drawn. As Alis turned his gaze towards the men, one of them raised his head and let his eyes meet Alistair’s. The man smiled.
“I knew it,” the stranger murmured. “The rumor is true. The duke’s demon-touched son, right here for the taking.”
“You should not be here,” Xerxes said dangerously. “This is private land.”
“Is it then, boy? Whose land might that be?” the first stranger said, his voice laced with dark amusement. “This forest belongs to no one.”
“If you know who we are, you know who our father is,” Xerxes said. “All land in this province is the duke’s land.”
“Is that so?” The first man laughed.
“We’ll be sure to tell your honored father you said so, when we bring him the head of his cursed child,” the second man added. “But we have no quarrel with you, eldest son. Step aside.”
“If I was willing to step aside, I would never have drawn my sword in the first place,” Xerxes said. “Are there more of you here? I don’t see a bowman, so I’m assuming he’d still in the trees.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” the first man replied. “Now come, won’t you let us do what we came to do? You know the trouble that brother of yours will cause. Younger twin, and demon-touched at that. Is it true what they say, that he was blind until he was six, when his eyes changed color and sight returned? Smacks of heresy and witchcraft, that does.”
“That’s no concern of yours.” Xerxes moved just slightly so he was between Alis and the men. “Alistair. Run.”
“I’m all right here,” Alis said, leaning his head back. “I can stay.”
“Alis. I’m telling you to run.” Xerxes grit his teeth in a grim smile. “Your horse ran off, right? Your book is still in its saddlebag. You won’t lose that, right?”
“The Book!” He’d forgotten the book. Alis gathered his feet under him and darted into the trees, ignoring the yells of the men from behind him.
The horse had been pain-mad enough that it had left a trail so clear even Alis could follow it. He had never been much of a tracker, not like Xerxes or Vincent or Leda. When Father had come to see them once, two houses ago, when they’d been at the larger house right on the edge of the wood, he’d taken Xerxes aside to show him proper hunting skills. Leda had demanded to know them too, of course, and she’d dragged Vincent along, and they’d left Alis at the house to watch Frances because she was too small to learn hunting and Alis was too thin and too frail and too near-sighted and hopeless.
Alis knew if he’d asked, Vincent or Xerxes would tell him what Father had taught them. But it didn’t seem worth it to ask, so he hadn’t. He supposed it wouldn’t have helped anyway, even if he had asked. And it didn’t matter, because the horse’s trail was clear, so he didn’t need those skills anyway, not for this. Alis pursed his lips and kept walking.
His own trail was likely clear as well, but Alis didn't see any point in concealing it. His own meager sense of direction wouldn't be enough to lead him back the marked trail where he'd left Xerxes, and this would make it easier for his brother to find him later after he dealt with the assassins or whatever those men had been.
Unless of course they killed Xerxes, but Alis doubted that. Prosperity wasn't something risked lightly, and Xerxes was, after all, the older twin.
Alis stumbled out into a clearing where he finally found the horse. The beast lay slumped against a tree, unmoving, and there was blood all over its side. It didn't appear to be breathing.
"Killed it," Alis murmured, shaking his head. It hadn't been his horse, of course -- he didn't get to ride much so they had never bothered giving him his own horse. It was only one of Father's horses that had been sent over the last time they'd moved, because it had been hard traveling between houses while sharing a horse with Xerxes. Even so, Alis didn't like seeing it like this, sad and empty against the tree. He patted the horse's neck as he reached over to grab the saddle bag. There was a small tear in the bottom from when one of the arrows had gone by and teh pen had disappeared, but the Book appeared to be intact. Alis sighed in relief.
He heard someone approaching from behind, but Alis didn't bother to look. Instead he pulled the Book from the saddle bag and looked around for something to use as a pen.
"Are you going to surrender just like that, demon child?" The voice was unfamiliar, and finally Alis turned to look. The man behind him was dressed in the same dark clothing as the two Xerxes had faced on the trail, and there was a bow slung against his back. In his hands he held an unsheathed sword.
"Youn didn't stab me from behind," Alis said in tones of profound disappointment. "Do you have a pen?"
"I'm not in the business of stabbing children in the back," the stranger said.
"But you'll kill horses," Alis pointed out.
"I was aiming for its rider," the man replied. "But you know that, don't you, heretic?"
"I suppose." Alis shrugged. "Are you going to kill me now, or can I have a pen first? I want to write something before I forget."
"I was expecting you to run," the man said. "Or fight at least. Or is this some demon trick?"
"I'm not a demon," Alis said flatly.
"Those cursed eyes say otherwise. You weren't born that way, or so the rumors say."
"I wasn't," Alis agreed. "I wasn't born this way. Does it matter?"
"Even the priests can't cure blindness," the man said. "Who was it who sold your life, demon child? The Duke?"
"Father had nothing to do with this," Alis said. "No one had anything to do with this but me."
"And I should believe you?" the stranger scoffed. "Old Duke Albarn holds onto his power by a thread, and all know of the whispers: that both his twin sons live in secret, waiting for the misfortune that will surely follow. Or should we really believe that an old-fashioned creature like the duke will truly give his land and title to a girl, of all things?"
"If it's the heir you're after, he's back on the trail with your friends," Alis said helpfully. "Nothing passes to me at all. No birthright, no title."
"I have no interest in that," the man said. "My friends and I are merely following a whisper on the winds. The heretics are growing bolder, and the priesthood is doing its best to stem the tide. I hear they're burning witches in the capital now. I only wanted to see where Duke Albarn stands. If he's let the heretic child survive, well, then...it's the duty of all those who serve the proper god to destroy the aberration and spread the word. And if it staves off calamity, so much the better."
"You talk too much," Alis sang. "You should get it done with before Xerx gets here. He's already killed your friends." Alis smiled nastily.
"If he has, it is only a sacrfice of heroes," the stranger replied. "It doesn't matter if I die, either. As long as I take you with me."
"Bold words!" An arrow flew from the trees, embedding itself only inches from the man's feet.
"Leda, you're saving the wrong one," Alis said, drawing out her name. "Xerxes is back that way."
"Master Xerxes sent me after you while he and Vincent dealt with this one's friends," Leda said, inching her way out of the trees and slowly putting herself between Alis and the unknown man. Her bow was drawn, an arrow aimed squarely at the stranger in front of her.
"You protect this creature?" the man said in disbelief. "You would willingly doom us all?"
"Alis is right. You talk too much," Leda said darkly. "If you serve the priesthood, you should know what this trinket around my neck means."
"The sigil of White Rabbit," the man sneered. "I see. Heretics protect heretics."
"So we do," Leda said amiably. "Now, as for you...who told you we were here? Are there more of you?"
"Why would I tell you?" The man scoffed. "I don't deal with heretics. We followed a rumor, and we came. Even if you kill me, I won't be the last. The true believers will continue to search for you, until that demon-cursed thing you protect is dead."
"Alistair," Leda said tightly, taking a step forward. "I think you should run now. I'll deal with this one."
"We were having a good conversation, Leda," Alis said mildly.
"You think I'll let him escape so easily?" the man added, stepping forward.
"One more step and this arrow goes through your heart!" Leda warned. "Alistair! I won't tell you again. Get out of here."
"But Leda--"
"I said, run!" Leda snapped. "Or I'll shoot you next. Non-fatally, but just enough to really sting, understand?"
"Oh, all right." Alis climbed to his feet, keeping a firm hold on the Book. "Be careful, Leda."
"You won't get away so easily!" The man's hand flashed out and something silver flew through the air towards Alis.
"Alistair!" Leda plowed into him and Alis landed hard against the tree. His head spun for a moment and then he dragged himself back to a sitting position.
Leda was crouched where he had been standing moments before. Her bow lay abandoned a few feet away, and she was pulling a silver-handled knife out of her shoulder.
"That wasn't playing fair," Leda said, smiling like a wildcat.
"This is too important for me to 'play fair,'" the man stated.
"But you still wouldn't stab a child in the back," Alis said, rocking back on his heels.
"Alistair, I will say this one more time," Leda said. "Get. Out. Of Here. Go find Xerxes, all right? He's looking for you."
"A-all right." There was something in her eyes that made Alis suddenly very aware of the importance of obedience. He inched backwards towards the safety of the trees.
"Don't you dare!" The man dashed forward and Leda pounced at the same time, parrying his sword with the same knife he had wounded her with.
Alis took another two steps backward and then turned and fled into the woods. His head hurt and his eyes were burning for some reason, but he kept running.
Leda had said to go back to Xerxes, but he didn't know where Xerxes was. He wasn't even sure if he was running in the right direction or not, and he was started to feel tired. His body had never been good with running.
He didn't even notice that the ground was sloping until it was too late. He stumbled over a log strewn haphazardly in his way and pitched forwrd, rolling down the slight hill and landing in a heap in a pile of dead leaves.
Alis lay there for some time, trying to get his breath back and take stock of himself. He hadn't lost his glasses yet, which was one small mercy, but the Book was missing. He sat up and dug around in the leaves until he found it, stained with mud and maybe a little worse for wear, but otherwise intact.
Alis sighed in relief and sat thoughtfully in the leaves. The forest was far too quiet.
"Leda?" he tried hopefully. "Xerxes? Vincent?"
No one answered and he lowered his head, uncertain what to do next.
He remembered Leda and her bleeding shoulder. She'd sent him to find Xerxes. Xerxes had probably already killed those other men, so he would be looking for them. Maybe he had already found Leda and killed that last man, and they could go home now.
Resolved, Alis stood and made his way back up the hill. His leg was sore from where he'd tripped over the log and his head still hurt from when he'd hit it on the tree, and he was starting to feel cold, despite his coat.
His own trail was as clear as the horse's had been, and it was easy to find his way back to where he'd left Leda and the stranger.
They were both still there, facedown in the blood and still as the horse.
"Leda?" Alis peered out from behind a tree. "I came back because I couldn't find Xerx and I thought he'd find you first. So don't hit me, okay? Leda?"
Only the wind answered him, and Alis took a nervous step forward.
"Leda?"
She wasn't answering, and the stranger hadn't made any taunts. Alis felt cold all over. He knew exactly what he was looking at, knew what it meant. But he spoke anyway.
"Leda, you shouldn't give people the silent treatment." He thought he might be babbling, but it made him feel better so he kept talking, even as he knelt down beside the two still forms. "Xerxes will be looking for us, I bet Vincent's worried sick, so let's go, okay? You still need to hit Xerxes, okay? I'll hold him down for you and--and I'll--" He choked on the words, shuddering.
Leda's eyes were still open, but she wasn't moving. The stranger's sword was still embedded in her chest. Alis barely gave the man's body a cursory glance, but he could see the hilt of the man's own knife buried in his throat.
He knew this. Alis remembered this. The first manor house, when they’d all still lived together. Flames and screaming and smoke in his throat. The second house, smaller, with white shingles on the roof. Two maids, face down in front of his room, and a puddle of blood. And the old-style town house, with its creaking floorboards and Father’s old hunting master with three arrows in his gut, holding back the assassins while they escaped into the night. Alis had asked Xerxes later, what had happened to the old man, and his brother had only smiled tightly and said that the man would catch up to them later. Alis had asked Vincent about the maids, and his protector had told him not to think about it, and that they’d been sent back to Father to recover.
He’d asked Mother about the fire, and she’d looked right through him.
Alis knew all this, and still he spoke to Leda.
“You should get up, Leda,” he murmured. “Xerx will be waiting. I’m sure those other people are dead. Hey, where’d you leave Vincent? I thought for sure he would catch me first. Can you tell me how you got away from him? Leda?”
She didn’t answer, and he knew she never would. His fingers twitched and he pulled the Book close. He needed to write something. He needed to record this, before he forgot. But he didn’t have a pen and the only thing to write with was Leda’s blood, and that was far too precious to waste on what was only his Book.
He sat there for what seemed like a very long time, rocking back and forth on the ground, his hands entangled in Leda’s hair. One of her braids had come undone and he felt a sudden urge to tie it back up properly.
He heard Xerxes and Vincent coming long before he saw them. They were moving frantically, no doubt wondering what was taking Leda so long. Alis supposed he should stand to meet them, but his legs had stopped working long ago. He ran a hand through Leda’s hair again.
“Alis, there you are.” Xerxes’s voice was heavy with relief as he stepped into view. Vincent was beside him, limping slightly. There was blood on his thigh and he was leaning just a bit on Xerxes, his sword dangling limply in his hand. “Did Leda…” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him.
“Leda.” Vincent’s voice was raw with emotion as he stumbled towards them, kneeling beside his sister’s still form. “Leda.”
“Alis, what…” Xerxes couldn’t finish. “Leda...what…”
“She told me to run,” Alis said, not looking up. “I ran.”
“Are—are you all right, Young Master?” Vincent was visibly struggling to keep his voice steady. Alis didn’t reply. “Young Master?”
“You shouldn’t be asking me that,” Alis drawled. “Not me.”
“We took care of the others,” Xerxes said. He hadn’t moved from his spot a few feet away from them, and was holding onto the nearest tree with white hands. “Leda…went after you, and we knew there were more…”
“Yes.” Alis nodded. He finally raised his head to look Vincent in the eyes, his voice suddenly light and innocent. “Is Leda all right, Vincent?”
“Young Master…” Vincent choked on the words. “I…she…”
“She’ll be fine,” Xerxes said huskily from behind him. “She’ll be fine.”
“No she won’t,” Alis hissed, his voice suddenly sharp. “Because she’s dead. Dead, dead. She’s dead.”
“Young Master…” It was surely meant to be a scold, but there was no force behind Vincent’s words.
“I’m not a child,” Alis said fiercely. “I know what ‘dead’ is. You know I know that, so don’t lie.”
Only silence answered him. Vincent’s shoulders were shaking, and no one would meet Alis’s eyes. He felt twisted and wretched all of a sudden, and fought the urge to throw the Book into the woods.
“We should bring her back with us,” Xerxes said at last. “It wouldn’t be…right…to leave her here.”
“No.” Vincent sighed heavily. “No. We have to bury her properly. There are – there are prayers to speak, for her peace, and then--”
“We’ll say them,” Xerxes said. He was looking everywhere but at Alis’s face and Leda’s still form. “I left the horses back by the trail. I think there’s a blanket in my saddle bag, so we’ll—we’ll take her back to the house and do everything we have to for her. That’s—that’s all we can do, now.”
“Yes. Thank you, Master Xerxes.” Vincent got heavily to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry, but—on this leg, I can’t--”
“I’ll carry her,” Xerxes assured him. “Take Alis and go get the horses.”
Vincent nodded and offered Alis a hand. Alis didn’t move.
“I can carry her,” he said.
“No, you can’t,” Xerxes said sharply. “You know that, Alis. Go with Vincent.”
“I can help,” Alis repeated.
“Alis! You’ve caused enough—just, just go back with Vincent.” Xerxes shook his head. “Just—just go, all right? I-this isn’t the time for you to be so…”
“Right.” Alis gave a nasty little laugh, smiling widely. “This is all my fault, isn’t the time for me to be so me-like, right? I see. And she’ll be fine anyway, so what does it matter who carries her home?”
“I didn’t say that,” Xerxes said. “Don’t be difficult, Alis. Not now.”
“Of course.” Alis’s eyes were flat and cold. “Of course. She was your protector, after all. Never mine. Perhaps Father will give you Vincent now.”
“Young Master.” Vincent’s hand was gentle on his shoulder. “Come along. I can lead you back to the horses, if you’ve gotten lost.”
“My horse is dead,” Alis said quietly.
“I know. You can ride with me.” Vincent stumbled slightly, and Alis offered his arm. “It’s this way. Xerxes will be all right by himself.”
“Of course,” Alis said, and allowed Vincent to lean on him as they made their way past Xerxes back towards the path.
Alis looked back only once, and watched in silence as Xerxes at last moved from where he’d been standing like a statue in the trees. Stiff-legged, the older twin walked towards where Leda lay and fell to his knees beside her, pulling her body close.
Vincent touched his arm softly in reminder. Alis closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led away.
He’d always known that misfortune and calamity walked beside him, so it was nothing new. He knew all these things, and Alis looked away.
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG. Probably. For now.
Notes: My first ever stab at NaNoWriMo. I'm taking the "quantity over quality" approach to heart in hopes I can actually finish this, so be warned. I've only mildly edited for spelling and such and it's...not the greatest (translation: I'm worried it sucks but don't tell me, I am fragile like a dove and will cry).
Prologue
you made a deal
Everything was burning.
He could feel it, smell it, feel it, the heat of the flames and the noise and the smoke that settled insistently in his lungs. He coughed and choked at it, and groped wildly in the darkness.
He had never been in this part of the manor before, or if he had, there had been someone else with him. He knew the halls leading to his room by touch; he knew the outline of the dining hall and the hallway that led to the garden. He’d always been able to find his way, despite the blindness. If he went anywhere outside of the usual spots there was always someone holding his hand, Xerxes or mother—
--or mother—
--she dragged him forward, her grip tight and painful, and then she stopped and he stumbled. The hand that held him trembled. He held her hand tightly, as he’d always been taught, and he felt her shudder and cough.
And then she pushed him away, and there was nothing but flames and darkness and Xerxes yelling his name as they moved away and left him behind—
He coughed and groped forward again. His hand brushed the wall and he jerked it away, startled by the heat. His head swam and he gasped for breath.
“Well, well. This won’t do at all.”
He turned towards the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He hadn’t even sensed the presence behind him until the man spoke.
“You’re in a spot, aren’t you?” The voice was amused. Somehow it could be heard despite the roaring of the flames, and the speaker seemed unaffected by the smoke.
“Who--?” He tried to talk but was overcome by coughing.
“Just your humble servant.” The voice was laced with dark amusement. “There’s not really time for you to be asking questions, is there? So just listen. You want to get out of here right? To your beloved family and all that?”
He couldn’t talk, so he only nodded.
“Good, good. Excellent. We’ll want to avoid this in the future, so I’ll give you a gift too, at my own personal cost. I’ll save you and give you something to help keep you safe, and in return…in return, all I ask is you live for a while, and one day I’ll come for you and you’ll have to do something for me. You’ll be in my debt, after all, and it’s only a small thing I want from you. Well…small in a sense. But that’s no concern of yours. So, do we have a deal?”
There was really no choice, so he nodded.
“Very good. Remember…we have a deal.”
He could hear the smile.
1.
I know what I've seen
The lone rider made his way along the forest path. His horse was covered in sweat and leaves from the long trip, for they had traveled far far away from the farm that was their home.
The rider paused for only a moment to gaze at the trees that surrounded him, one hand resting warily on the sheathed sword that hung at his side. He brushed his dark blond bangs back against his forehead, watching as his breath curled like smoke in the cold air. He was dressed for mid-spring pleasure riding, which made it all the more curious that he would be found in such a place now, riding in midwinter on an old forgotten trail towards the snow-covered forest, paying attention only to the path ahead and the trees beside, not bothering to look back at the hill he had just rode down where all kinds of assassins and nasties could be waiting and watching to kill him dead. This, of course, was not surprising, as the rider was in fact AN ENORMOUS IDIOT!!!
Alistair made sure to slam the pen down as hard on the exclamation points for extra emphasis, which only served to make the horse under him start slightly in alarm. The unexpected movement was enough to jostle the Book from his hands and there was a short desperate moment as Alis reached to catch it while simultaneously attempting not to drop his pen and he very nearly managed to lose his glasses in the process. The horse shifted again and Alis irritably stuck the pen in his mouth and finally grabbed the reins, Book shoved firmly under his arms.
Satisfied that the horse had clamed down, Alis took the pen from his mouth and re-opened the Book, trying to find where he’d left off. The passage didn’t flow properly at all, and he frowned.
“Idiot’s not a good word,” he muttered, dragging out the vowels. “And that whole sentence is a run-on. But it’s all true, so it’s no good.” He held the book up in front of his face, then peered over it down the hill, where the small figure of a rider up ahead was getting smaller and, considering his vision, well on its way to becoming a fuzzy Xerxes-colored dot in the distance.
“I think you haven’t added enough exclamation points, young Master Alistair,” a voice chimed in from behind. Rather than bothering to turn, Alis leaned his head back as far as he could, coming perilously close to losing his glasses again. A young woman rode up behind him. Her long black hair was tied up in a pair of braids and there was a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over her back. She wore dark-colored hunting clothes and there was a silver medallion covered in strange sigils hanging around her neck.
“It’s not enough?” Alis sighed, still leaning backward.
“You’ll fall off the horse,” the woman warned him mildly, even as she slowed the horse to a stop beside him.
“I know.” Alis returned to proper sitting position and stared irritably at the open Book in his hands. “It’s not working at all, Leda. I can’t find a stronger word than ‘idiot.’ Not one that’s suitable, I mean. Frances will get this eventually and she’ll be scolded if I put words she’s not supposed to know in here.”
“Just add another exclamation point, then,” Leda said. “A nice big one, that’ll match the lump that’s going to appear on your twin brother’s head when I get done with him.”
“Xerxes is in trouble” Alis said in lilting tones. “He went so far from home, straight past the fence. He shouldn’t go past the fence alone.”
“And neither should you, yet here you are,” Leda said wryly.
“But I knew you were following me, so I’m all right,” Alis said, waving a hand at her. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if anyone gets me.”
“Alistair,” Leda said sharply.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Alis chewed on the end of his pen. “But Xerxes gave me something to write about today besides the cows, so I’ll have to thank him. After you hit him, I mean.”
“Yes, well--” Leda stopped at the sound of another rider approaching.
“Young master!” A young man rode up to them, sounding irritated and slightly out of breath. Leda turned to meet him, but Alis kept his eyes on the Book.
“Calm down, Vincent, I’ve got him,” Leda said as her brother came up beside her. His sharp features were almost a mirror of hers, down to the long black hair that fell to his waist and the medallion around his neck. A sword hung at his side.
“You shouldn’t have let him come out this far,” Vincent said sharply.
“Me? Young Master Alis is your charge, I believe.”
“Xerxes!” Vincent shook his head. “Anyone could see him out here! And you, young master, what do you think you’re doing following him, you aren’t trained at all in stealth and we saw your trail miles back, clear as day, and if I hadn’t seen the horses missing we might not have even known you were gone and do you have any idea what your mother would do if she knew you were out here?”
“If she knew Xerxes was out here,” Alis said flatly, still not looking at him.
“Both of you,” Vincent said, his tone disapproving. He turned his gaze to his sister, glaring at her out of sharp blue eyes. “And you caught up to him and haven’t sent him back yet? Leda--”
“Calm down, little brother.” Leda made soothing motions with her hands. “Master Alis and I were just discussing his book. Though up any other words for ‘idiot’ yet, young master?”
“Vincent is a bother,” Alis muttered, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “Bother, bother. Like an old maid.”
“Young master!” Vincent put a hand to his forehead and sighed. “Let’s go back to the farmhouse. Leda, you can collect Xerxes on your own, can’t you?”
“I can, but I don’t see a need for that.” Leda nodded at Alis. “You go down and give him a piece of your mind first, Alis. We’ll be along behind, after we’ve made sure no one else’s been following us.”
“Leda, you can’t--” Vincent started.
“He’ll be fine, Vincent,” Leda said in warning tones. “Now, go on, Alis. We’ll be nearby.”
Alis regarded them warily over the pages of his Book for a moment, his gold eyes narrowed in thought. Finally he nodded. Placing the Book and pen reverently in his saddlebag, he spurred his horse forward down the hill.
Catching up with Xerxes was an easier task than he’d expected. His brother was taking his time along the path, stopping his horse frequently to stare at some tree or gaze up at the sun. He didn’t look back until Alis had nearly ridden up alongside him, but Alis was certain that his brother had known he was there for some time.
“You shouldn’t be out here, Alis,” Xerxes said by way of greeting.
“Xerxes is in trouble,” Alis said, rocking slightly in his saddle. “Leda’s going to hit you.”
“I thought she might.” Xerxes sighed heavily. “Is she here too? And I can’t imagine Vincent letting you out of his sight.”
“They’re looking for assassins and poisons. Or something.” Alis fidgeted for a moment, then gave Xerxes a wide grin. “You’re in trouble.”
“Yes, I got that the first time you said it.” Xerxes shook his head. “I knew I would be, but, well….How long have we lived here? Four years?”
“Three,” Alis said promptly. “I’ve got it dated in the Book. Not my current one, I mean. The other volume. One of the others.”
“Right. Three years, and I’ve never seen what the land looked like over here, even though we’re still not too far from the farm. I just wanted to look at something besides cows.”
“You went to the town with Leda two weeks ago,” Alis said, cocking his head curiously. “So that’s a different thing. I never get to go to town.”
“Alis…”
“I was just saying. So, anyway. Different than cows.”
“Yes, different than cows,” Xerxes said in agreement. “I thought I’d be back before you missed me. And I must have left quite a trail if even you could follow it. I’m assuming Leda and Vincent didn’t just let you tag along?”
“I saw you leave.” Alis shrugged. “So I watched which way you went and let you have a head start before I followed.”
“Alistair. That was incredibly stupid of you.”
“You’re the one who went past the fence,” Alis stated. “Leda’s going to punch you.”
“Vincent’s going to put you on a leash,” Xerxes shot back, smiling. “So we’re both in trouble.”
“But you’re more in trouble,” Alis said serenely. “Do you want to see what I wrote about you in the Book?”
“Another time.” Xerxes shook his head. “We should head back. It’s not safe for us to be here together. If anyone saw us there’d be trouble, even if they didn’t see your eyes.”
“I suppose,” Alis murmured. “But we don’t even look alike. Not really, I mean. When you look close. When I take off my glasses even our blurs don’t look quite right.”
“We look enough alike for it to cause uncomfortable questions,” Xerxes said. “And anyone who got close enough to ask those questions might also be close enough to see your eyes, so we don’t want to take that chance.”
“Didn’t you want to explore more?”
“I can do that another time,” Xerxes said. “I’ll just bring Leda next time. Or I’ll bring Vincent and give you a break, how does that sound? So we’d better go back.”
“If you want.” Xerxes was already turned his horse around, so Alis supposed he may as well do the same. He wondered if he should take the book out and map the path as they went back.
He was reaching for the saddlebag when he heard the sound, and thin whistling through the air followed by the sound of something sharp embedding itself in flesh. He had only just registered the horse’s scream and the sudden appearance of the arrow sticking out of its side before he was thrown to the ground.
“Alis!”
Alistair dimly heard Xerxes yell his name over the wild, pained scream of the horse as it reared up above him, hooves glinting dangerously. Alis rolled to the side, trying to get out of the way, but the horse was wild with pain and its hooves stabbed the ground just inches away from him, thrashing madly and completely unaware of the rider at its feet.
Alis just barely managed to scramble out of the way of another strike when the horse screamed again and another arrow hit its front leg, nearby impaling Alis’s hand in the process. He heard Xerxes yell something again, followed by two voices he had never heard before.
Alis finally managed to get his feet to listen properly, scrambling out of the way as the horse pawed at the ground one last time before taking flight into the woods. Alis dropped to his knees, panting.
“Alistair!” Xerxes’s sharp cry made him raise his head. His brother had dismounted and stood facing two unfamiliar men, both wielding wicked-looking knives. Xerxes had his sword drawn. As Alis turned his gaze towards the men, one of them raised his head and let his eyes meet Alistair’s. The man smiled.
“I knew it,” the stranger murmured. “The rumor is true. The duke’s demon-touched son, right here for the taking.”
“You should not be here,” Xerxes said dangerously. “This is private land.”
“Is it then, boy? Whose land might that be?” the first stranger said, his voice laced with dark amusement. “This forest belongs to no one.”
“If you know who we are, you know who our father is,” Xerxes said. “All land in this province is the duke’s land.”
“Is that so?” The first man laughed.
“We’ll be sure to tell your honored father you said so, when we bring him the head of his cursed child,” the second man added. “But we have no quarrel with you, eldest son. Step aside.”
“If I was willing to step aside, I would never have drawn my sword in the first place,” Xerxes said. “Are there more of you here? I don’t see a bowman, so I’m assuming he’d still in the trees.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” the first man replied. “Now come, won’t you let us do what we came to do? You know the trouble that brother of yours will cause. Younger twin, and demon-touched at that. Is it true what they say, that he was blind until he was six, when his eyes changed color and sight returned? Smacks of heresy and witchcraft, that does.”
“That’s no concern of yours.” Xerxes moved just slightly so he was between Alis and the men. “Alistair. Run.”
“I’m all right here,” Alis said, leaning his head back. “I can stay.”
“Alis. I’m telling you to run.” Xerxes grit his teeth in a grim smile. “Your horse ran off, right? Your book is still in its saddlebag. You won’t lose that, right?”
“The Book!” He’d forgotten the book. Alis gathered his feet under him and darted into the trees, ignoring the yells of the men from behind him.
The horse had been pain-mad enough that it had left a trail so clear even Alis could follow it. He had never been much of a tracker, not like Xerxes or Vincent or Leda. When Father had come to see them once, two houses ago, when they’d been at the larger house right on the edge of the wood, he’d taken Xerxes aside to show him proper hunting skills. Leda had demanded to know them too, of course, and she’d dragged Vincent along, and they’d left Alis at the house to watch Frances because she was too small to learn hunting and Alis was too thin and too frail and too near-sighted and hopeless.
Alis knew if he’d asked, Vincent or Xerxes would tell him what Father had taught them. But it didn’t seem worth it to ask, so he hadn’t. He supposed it wouldn’t have helped anyway, even if he had asked. And it didn’t matter, because the horse’s trail was clear, so he didn’t need those skills anyway, not for this. Alis pursed his lips and kept walking.
His own trail was likely clear as well, but Alis didn't see any point in concealing it. His own meager sense of direction wouldn't be enough to lead him back the marked trail where he'd left Xerxes, and this would make it easier for his brother to find him later after he dealt with the assassins or whatever those men had been.
Unless of course they killed Xerxes, but Alis doubted that. Prosperity wasn't something risked lightly, and Xerxes was, after all, the older twin.
Alis stumbled out into a clearing where he finally found the horse. The beast lay slumped against a tree, unmoving, and there was blood all over its side. It didn't appear to be breathing.
"Killed it," Alis murmured, shaking his head. It hadn't been his horse, of course -- he didn't get to ride much so they had never bothered giving him his own horse. It was only one of Father's horses that had been sent over the last time they'd moved, because it had been hard traveling between houses while sharing a horse with Xerxes. Even so, Alis didn't like seeing it like this, sad and empty against the tree. He patted the horse's neck as he reached over to grab the saddle bag. There was a small tear in the bottom from when one of the arrows had gone by and teh pen had disappeared, but the Book appeared to be intact. Alis sighed in relief.
He heard someone approaching from behind, but Alis didn't bother to look. Instead he pulled the Book from the saddle bag and looked around for something to use as a pen.
"Are you going to surrender just like that, demon child?" The voice was unfamiliar, and finally Alis turned to look. The man behind him was dressed in the same dark clothing as the two Xerxes had faced on the trail, and there was a bow slung against his back. In his hands he held an unsheathed sword.
"Youn didn't stab me from behind," Alis said in tones of profound disappointment. "Do you have a pen?"
"I'm not in the business of stabbing children in the back," the stranger said.
"But you'll kill horses," Alis pointed out.
"I was aiming for its rider," the man replied. "But you know that, don't you, heretic?"
"I suppose." Alis shrugged. "Are you going to kill me now, or can I have a pen first? I want to write something before I forget."
"I was expecting you to run," the man said. "Or fight at least. Or is this some demon trick?"
"I'm not a demon," Alis said flatly.
"Those cursed eyes say otherwise. You weren't born that way, or so the rumors say."
"I wasn't," Alis agreed. "I wasn't born this way. Does it matter?"
"Even the priests can't cure blindness," the man said. "Who was it who sold your life, demon child? The Duke?"
"Father had nothing to do with this," Alis said. "No one had anything to do with this but me."
"And I should believe you?" the stranger scoffed. "Old Duke Albarn holds onto his power by a thread, and all know of the whispers: that both his twin sons live in secret, waiting for the misfortune that will surely follow. Or should we really believe that an old-fashioned creature like the duke will truly give his land and title to a girl, of all things?"
"If it's the heir you're after, he's back on the trail with your friends," Alis said helpfully. "Nothing passes to me at all. No birthright, no title."
"I have no interest in that," the man said. "My friends and I are merely following a whisper on the winds. The heretics are growing bolder, and the priesthood is doing its best to stem the tide. I hear they're burning witches in the capital now. I only wanted to see where Duke Albarn stands. If he's let the heretic child survive, well, then...it's the duty of all those who serve the proper god to destroy the aberration and spread the word. And if it staves off calamity, so much the better."
"You talk too much," Alis sang. "You should get it done with before Xerx gets here. He's already killed your friends." Alis smiled nastily.
"If he has, it is only a sacrfice of heroes," the stranger replied. "It doesn't matter if I die, either. As long as I take you with me."
"Bold words!" An arrow flew from the trees, embedding itself only inches from the man's feet.
"Leda, you're saving the wrong one," Alis said, drawing out her name. "Xerxes is back that way."
"Master Xerxes sent me after you while he and Vincent dealt with this one's friends," Leda said, inching her way out of the trees and slowly putting herself between Alis and the unknown man. Her bow was drawn, an arrow aimed squarely at the stranger in front of her.
"You protect this creature?" the man said in disbelief. "You would willingly doom us all?"
"Alis is right. You talk too much," Leda said darkly. "If you serve the priesthood, you should know what this trinket around my neck means."
"The sigil of White Rabbit," the man sneered. "I see. Heretics protect heretics."
"So we do," Leda said amiably. "Now, as for you...who told you we were here? Are there more of you?"
"Why would I tell you?" The man scoffed. "I don't deal with heretics. We followed a rumor, and we came. Even if you kill me, I won't be the last. The true believers will continue to search for you, until that demon-cursed thing you protect is dead."
"Alistair," Leda said tightly, taking a step forward. "I think you should run now. I'll deal with this one."
"We were having a good conversation, Leda," Alis said mildly.
"You think I'll let him escape so easily?" the man added, stepping forward.
"One more step and this arrow goes through your heart!" Leda warned. "Alistair! I won't tell you again. Get out of here."
"But Leda--"
"I said, run!" Leda snapped. "Or I'll shoot you next. Non-fatally, but just enough to really sting, understand?"
"Oh, all right." Alis climbed to his feet, keeping a firm hold on the Book. "Be careful, Leda."
"You won't get away so easily!" The man's hand flashed out and something silver flew through the air towards Alis.
"Alistair!" Leda plowed into him and Alis landed hard against the tree. His head spun for a moment and then he dragged himself back to a sitting position.
Leda was crouched where he had been standing moments before. Her bow lay abandoned a few feet away, and she was pulling a silver-handled knife out of her shoulder.
"That wasn't playing fair," Leda said, smiling like a wildcat.
"This is too important for me to 'play fair,'" the man stated.
"But you still wouldn't stab a child in the back," Alis said, rocking back on his heels.
"Alistair, I will say this one more time," Leda said. "Get. Out. Of Here. Go find Xerxes, all right? He's looking for you."
"A-all right." There was something in her eyes that made Alis suddenly very aware of the importance of obedience. He inched backwards towards the safety of the trees.
"Don't you dare!" The man dashed forward and Leda pounced at the same time, parrying his sword with the same knife he had wounded her with.
Alis took another two steps backward and then turned and fled into the woods. His head hurt and his eyes were burning for some reason, but he kept running.
Leda had said to go back to Xerxes, but he didn't know where Xerxes was. He wasn't even sure if he was running in the right direction or not, and he was started to feel tired. His body had never been good with running.
He didn't even notice that the ground was sloping until it was too late. He stumbled over a log strewn haphazardly in his way and pitched forwrd, rolling down the slight hill and landing in a heap in a pile of dead leaves.
Alis lay there for some time, trying to get his breath back and take stock of himself. He hadn't lost his glasses yet, which was one small mercy, but the Book was missing. He sat up and dug around in the leaves until he found it, stained with mud and maybe a little worse for wear, but otherwise intact.
Alis sighed in relief and sat thoughtfully in the leaves. The forest was far too quiet.
"Leda?" he tried hopefully. "Xerxes? Vincent?"
No one answered and he lowered his head, uncertain what to do next.
He remembered Leda and her bleeding shoulder. She'd sent him to find Xerxes. Xerxes had probably already killed those other men, so he would be looking for them. Maybe he had already found Leda and killed that last man, and they could go home now.
Resolved, Alis stood and made his way back up the hill. His leg was sore from where he'd tripped over the log and his head still hurt from when he'd hit it on the tree, and he was starting to feel cold, despite his coat.
His own trail was as clear as the horse's had been, and it was easy to find his way back to where he'd left Leda and the stranger.
They were both still there, facedown in the blood and still as the horse.
"Leda?" Alis peered out from behind a tree. "I came back because I couldn't find Xerx and I thought he'd find you first. So don't hit me, okay? Leda?"
Only the wind answered him, and Alis took a nervous step forward.
"Leda?"
She wasn't answering, and the stranger hadn't made any taunts. Alis felt cold all over. He knew exactly what he was looking at, knew what it meant. But he spoke anyway.
"Leda, you shouldn't give people the silent treatment." He thought he might be babbling, but it made him feel better so he kept talking, even as he knelt down beside the two still forms. "Xerxes will be looking for us, I bet Vincent's worried sick, so let's go, okay? You still need to hit Xerxes, okay? I'll hold him down for you and--and I'll--" He choked on the words, shuddering.
Leda's eyes were still open, but she wasn't moving. The stranger's sword was still embedded in her chest. Alis barely gave the man's body a cursory glance, but he could see the hilt of the man's own knife buried in his throat.
He knew this. Alis remembered this. The first manor house, when they’d all still lived together. Flames and screaming and smoke in his throat. The second house, smaller, with white shingles on the roof. Two maids, face down in front of his room, and a puddle of blood. And the old-style town house, with its creaking floorboards and Father’s old hunting master with three arrows in his gut, holding back the assassins while they escaped into the night. Alis had asked Xerxes later, what had happened to the old man, and his brother had only smiled tightly and said that the man would catch up to them later. Alis had asked Vincent about the maids, and his protector had told him not to think about it, and that they’d been sent back to Father to recover.
He’d asked Mother about the fire, and she’d looked right through him.
Alis knew all this, and still he spoke to Leda.
“You should get up, Leda,” he murmured. “Xerx will be waiting. I’m sure those other people are dead. Hey, where’d you leave Vincent? I thought for sure he would catch me first. Can you tell me how you got away from him? Leda?”
She didn’t answer, and he knew she never would. His fingers twitched and he pulled the Book close. He needed to write something. He needed to record this, before he forgot. But he didn’t have a pen and the only thing to write with was Leda’s blood, and that was far too precious to waste on what was only his Book.
He sat there for what seemed like a very long time, rocking back and forth on the ground, his hands entangled in Leda’s hair. One of her braids had come undone and he felt a sudden urge to tie it back up properly.
He heard Xerxes and Vincent coming long before he saw them. They were moving frantically, no doubt wondering what was taking Leda so long. Alis supposed he should stand to meet them, but his legs had stopped working long ago. He ran a hand through Leda’s hair again.
“Alis, there you are.” Xerxes’s voice was heavy with relief as he stepped into view. Vincent was beside him, limping slightly. There was blood on his thigh and he was leaning just a bit on Xerxes, his sword dangling limply in his hand. “Did Leda…” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him.
“Leda.” Vincent’s voice was raw with emotion as he stumbled towards them, kneeling beside his sister’s still form. “Leda.”
“Alis, what…” Xerxes couldn’t finish. “Leda...what…”
“She told me to run,” Alis said, not looking up. “I ran.”
“Are—are you all right, Young Master?” Vincent was visibly struggling to keep his voice steady. Alis didn’t reply. “Young Master?”
“You shouldn’t be asking me that,” Alis drawled. “Not me.”
“We took care of the others,” Xerxes said. He hadn’t moved from his spot a few feet away from them, and was holding onto the nearest tree with white hands. “Leda…went after you, and we knew there were more…”
“Yes.” Alis nodded. He finally raised his head to look Vincent in the eyes, his voice suddenly light and innocent. “Is Leda all right, Vincent?”
“Young Master…” Vincent choked on the words. “I…she…”
“She’ll be fine,” Xerxes said huskily from behind him. “She’ll be fine.”
“No she won’t,” Alis hissed, his voice suddenly sharp. “Because she’s dead. Dead, dead. She’s dead.”
“Young Master…” It was surely meant to be a scold, but there was no force behind Vincent’s words.
“I’m not a child,” Alis said fiercely. “I know what ‘dead’ is. You know I know that, so don’t lie.”
Only silence answered him. Vincent’s shoulders were shaking, and no one would meet Alis’s eyes. He felt twisted and wretched all of a sudden, and fought the urge to throw the Book into the woods.
“We should bring her back with us,” Xerxes said at last. “It wouldn’t be…right…to leave her here.”
“No.” Vincent sighed heavily. “No. We have to bury her properly. There are – there are prayers to speak, for her peace, and then--”
“We’ll say them,” Xerxes said. He was looking everywhere but at Alis’s face and Leda’s still form. “I left the horses back by the trail. I think there’s a blanket in my saddle bag, so we’ll—we’ll take her back to the house and do everything we have to for her. That’s—that’s all we can do, now.”
“Yes. Thank you, Master Xerxes.” Vincent got heavily to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry, but—on this leg, I can’t--”
“I’ll carry her,” Xerxes assured him. “Take Alis and go get the horses.”
Vincent nodded and offered Alis a hand. Alis didn’t move.
“I can carry her,” he said.
“No, you can’t,” Xerxes said sharply. “You know that, Alis. Go with Vincent.”
“I can help,” Alis repeated.
“Alis! You’ve caused enough—just, just go back with Vincent.” Xerxes shook his head. “Just—just go, all right? I-this isn’t the time for you to be so…”
“Right.” Alis gave a nasty little laugh, smiling widely. “This is all my fault, isn’t the time for me to be so me-like, right? I see. And she’ll be fine anyway, so what does it matter who carries her home?”
“I didn’t say that,” Xerxes said. “Don’t be difficult, Alis. Not now.”
“Of course.” Alis’s eyes were flat and cold. “Of course. She was your protector, after all. Never mine. Perhaps Father will give you Vincent now.”
“Young Master.” Vincent’s hand was gentle on his shoulder. “Come along. I can lead you back to the horses, if you’ve gotten lost.”
“My horse is dead,” Alis said quietly.
“I know. You can ride with me.” Vincent stumbled slightly, and Alis offered his arm. “It’s this way. Xerxes will be all right by himself.”
“Of course,” Alis said, and allowed Vincent to lean on him as they made their way past Xerxes back towards the path.
Alis looked back only once, and watched in silence as Xerxes at last moved from where he’d been standing like a statue in the trees. Stiff-legged, the older twin walked towards where Leda lay and fell to his knees beside her, pulling her body close.
Vincent touched his arm softly in reminder. Alis closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led away.
He’d always known that misfortune and calamity walked beside him, so it was nothing new. He knew all these things, and Alis looked away.