The TwiceBorn

Dark Soliloquy

In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery." --McCarthy

Gre had only looked down for a moment to make sure his aleskin was securely tucked away when he heard Aubery scream.  His wild eyes traveled over the still form of The Twiceborn before coming to rest on the boy, who appeared to be having some sort of fit.

"What the fuck now?"  He thought wearily as he made his way over.  The shadows were growing longer and there was a cool touch to the breeze.  It would be night soon.

"Aubery, what's wrong now?  We need to ri..."  Gre stopped as he took in the sight of the boy rolling about on the ground.

  He appeared to be caught in the throes of some sort of spasm.  Gre took a step back, repulsed yet fascinated.  Aubery's hands thrashed and clenched,snatching up bits of grass and mud as he flailed about. He began to grunt, a thick sound that echoed up out of his throat as he twisted about.

Gre wasn't sure what to do.  For no reason whatsoever, he glanced at Islinn who still sat serenely off in the grass.  The expression on her face hadn't changed which told Gre just how invested she was in whatever had felled Aubery.

The grunting was becoming louder.  Gre dropped his eyes to the grass and wondered if maybe the boy had been bitten by something.

Deadafores?

Gre swept his eyes over the grass.  The tiny bugs were a brilliant purple and red and Gre had grown up knowing them as deadafores.  As in, "Boy,you get bitten you'll be dead afore nightfall."  But he knew they mostly came out when the trees first started to bud up after the snows. 

There wouldn't be any out now.  Would there?

Gre's eyes suddenly found the sword half buried in the mud.   A cold tickle began at the base of his spine and it was suddenly hard to take a breath.  What a beautiful blade.  Hand-worked steel of a type Gre had never seen before. 

And what kind of hands had held the hammer to forge such a sword?

Gre looked at Aubery again then glanced back at the blade.  His mouth was very dry.

  Looked like Aubery had been bitten by something after all.

With a huge effort, he dragged his eyes away from the discarded weapon.  He went over to the boy and grabbed the front of his tunic.  In spite of the fear he felt, he couldn't deny the small mean pleasure he took in slapping Aubery hard across the face.

The boy's wall-eyed stare slowly focused and he looked up at Gre, for a moment, without a trace of recognition. 

"Aubery!"  Gre yelled and drew his hand back for another slap.  The guttural grunting ceased and Aubery let out a howl of mingled fear and shame.

"Get off me Gray, get off me!"  He screeched.  His head whipped wildly back and forth as he scanned the grasslands.  Suddenly his eyes focused on the sword and grew wide.   As Gre watched, first astounded and then disgusted, a wet stain started on the front of Aubery's trousers and slowly spread.

The acrid scent wrinkled Gre's nose and he stepped back and quickly looked away. All of this stank of diabolism and Aubery had seen-something-but right now the long shadows had grown longer still and it was time to ride out.  Past time.

Once again, his eyes were drawn to the figure in the mud.  She didn't look any different than any other person felled by sword.  Blades made ugly wounds, all of them usually open and spraying or gushing.  A sharp enough blade could take off an arm or a leg, Gre knew this to be all too true.