| To Kill the Stars |
| "Dharin, you're not listening to me." The convoy was moving at less than a crawl. Jenya waved his hand in front of Dharin's face, trying to distract him from meditation, or whatever it was he was doing. Still staring into space, Dharin muttered, "Jenya, knock it off." "So his high and mightiness can hear after all," The blade master snickered. "Yeah, despite all my efforts to block out your stirring one man rendition of a vocal love scene, I can hear you." Dharin's voice was thick with sarcasm. He stared at Jenya coldly with ice blue eyes. Jenya might have blushed, but he had no shame. "Should I have changed the names?" His yellow eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, Kelnai!!" He laughed again to cover the twinge of jealousy that usually accompanied that name. "You have a death wish, Jenya. I should hang you." Dharin disliked being reminded of the relationship he long considered a mistake. He shifted so that his long legs stretched in front of him. He retrieved an incomplete sketch from the floor around him, smoothed over it to remove the wrinkles caused by Jenya's foot, and tried to finish it. In a world of turmoil and destruction - no one said life as a Tracker would be easy - creating something beautiful with hands that had killed sometimes made the work a little easier. It did nothing for him now; he tore the paper in frustration, found a new sheet and started over. "Is Seer still sleeping?" Dharin asked flippantly. Slowly, a light skeleton of an image took shape on the page in Dharin’s lap. Jenya of course saw through the front. He'd noticed how the two looked at each other, and Dharin worried about the mage. Seer expended too much energy protecting the Then’kael and the blade master on missions on a regular basis. "Yeah," Jenya sneered. "Your sleeping beauty slumbers safely." This is how it went with every mission; jests were made and the dreams that haunted their sleep were conversationally avoided entirely. Dharin rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Jenya." "You're no fun," Jenya complained, and settled his bulky form down to sleep. Once again, Dharin wished this moving box had a window he could open. Jenya was beginning to smell. "Jenya," Dharin spoke softly, but it was enough. "What?" He groaned, and started to sit up. "Are we there?" "I think so. We've stopped, anyways. I thought you might like to stretch, or bathe, or something," Dharin shrugged, still sketching. Jenya wasn't sure, but from his angle it was either a reaper or a hibiscus. "Wait a minute... That was a joke, wasn't it? Sweet Acharya, Dharin made a joke!" Jenya laughed hysterically, oblivious to the stoicism carved onto Dharin's face. "Man, you are way too serious. Anyways..." Jenya left the cart to go walk around in the night air, and stare up at the skies. It was deep into the night, and the heavens were cloudless. The insects chirped merrily, oblivious to the destructive forces present. Jenya heard Dharin walking up behind him. His friend had the sort of stalking swagger that, once learned, could never be thought to belong to anyone else. "Tomorrow, this field will be soaked in blood," he yawned, tired from the journey. The two stood side by side, staring at the darkened silhouettes of hills surrounding the nearby village. Ruins atop the hills stood long in disrepair, left as a reminder of the chaos long before the coming of the Acharya. Dharin nodded, adding "And ash, if Seer does the usual." He offered Jenya a small flask of Qu'elba. "It's weak, but I suppose that's for the better. We'll need clear minds for tomorrow." Jenya shrugged, drinking some then muttering, "Especially if we end up lending Seer any strength for those Rites she's started using. You might want to tell her to ease up a little." "She wouldn't listen to me if I did. Besides, you have no idea how many times those songs have saved our asses. I'll lend her my strength, if I've any to lend, whenever she needs it." Jenya faked a tear. "That's so sweet. And they say chivalry is dead..." "You will lend her your strength too, Jenya." Dharin was speaking not as Jenya's friend, or mission companion, but as his superior. It was an order, one that Dharin was willing to enforce. "There shouldn't be any need for that," A soft voice chimed. "The Cleansing should be brief, tomorrow. We know where our missing Mage is, approximately at least.” Dharin and Jenya both turned to face Seer. The slight Jihann Mage - a member of the ranks of Magi that had learned to exploit the elemental powers of the Jihann they wielded - exuded an aura of undeniable power and determination. Her once earth colored hair had long ago become opalescent from prolonged exposure to the Jihann Magicks. Her eyes, once a cloud-like grey, had become a glowing emerald green. Those unnatural eyes were, more often than not, focused on something far away, perhaps in the future or the past. The things she saw in that far away place were things of which she would not speak; she knew no one would listen and had the scars to prove it. "You should probably be sleeping," Dharin fought the wish to stand beside her. It looked as if she could barely stand. Her frailty was puzzling; when the world was still every breath seemed agony. Yet once battles began to rage, and the energy called Cair'leih coursed through her body the Mage stood tall, her eyes fierce. "I'm fine, Dharin," she lied. She walked carefully to stand next to Jenya and Dharin. "You two are like night and day," she mused, and it was true. Both were tall, but the similarities mostly ended there. Jenya had more of a jester-type personality - a refusal to grow up. Perhaps his Sun-Chylde heritage could be faulted for what some would call immaturity. Children of the Sun had been notoriously free-spirited, mischievous, and at times chaotic. Yet rarely did they join the ranks of the Exterminators - Trackers, as they called themselves. “Exterminators” was the name the Taer’shal had given them. However, somehow, Jenya had joined the Trackers, and risen quickly through the ranks. He was second only to Dharin and the Acharya himself, who held control over Trackers and Magi alike. "On one of these trips, you'll have to finish telling me all those legends, Seer." Jenya grinned. He referred to the legends of the Dead Houses, their glory during the early years of this world, before the Acharya had completely risen to power. He liked attention, and loved being the only living, recognizable Child of the Sun. "Some other night, Jenya." She touched him on the shoulder, winced as the visions raced through her mind: Jenya, kneeling before a ring of black fire, tears streaming freely down his face. "Jenya," Seer choked. Emotions always accompanied the visions - grief was the tag-along, this time. "Aw, not that vision crap again," Jenya rolled his luminous amber eyes heavenward. For as long as he had traveled with the Seer, he had disliked hearing about her visions; what she claimed were glimpses into worlds that could have been – worlds that were, somewhere. "Respect," Dharin said in a warning tone, resisting the urge to slap Jenya. "Why? None of these visions of hers have come to pass, not a single one! I refuse to live in fear of events that may never happen!" Jenya exclaimed defensively. "Jenya," Dharin began, but Seer interrupted in a low tone. "It's alright, Dharin. He's right. A life of fear is not much of a life at all, certainly not a life for a Cleanser. And, I would rather that the two of you knew nothing of what I've seen. Seeing changes absolutely nothing; I do not understand most of what I’ve Seen, and what I do understand can never be. Not in this world. These visions only bring pain." She turned to go back to the cart she shared with Kelnai, presumably to get some sleep. Dharin muttered helplessly, "I would take them away, if I could." Jenya began to laugh, but fell silent under Dharin's cold stare. Seer heard nothing. |