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It was a stormy day in Uthlyn, which meant a lot of annoyance for Clover.
Namely because people were so gosh darned RUDE!
She had just finished sweeping out the nave, even getting under the pews where worshipers sat for Mass, and was just about ready to take a seat and wipe her sweaty brow, when a group of soldiers came tromping on in, not bothering to remove their filthy boots or even wipe them off, and left muddy puddles in their wake as they headed for the chapel to pray. And then they had the gall to smile in her direction!
Clover stared at them, open-mouthed and bristling, until they vanished into the chapel. And then she let out a soft, strangled scream of frustration and snatched her broom back up.
SHE HAD JUST CLEANED THAT!
NOW SHE HAD TO MOP!
"Lord give me the strength not to break this broom over their thick heads!" she growled. Not that she needed it anymore now. NOW she had to tromp outside into the rain, fill a bucket from the well, and clean everything all over again!
And she had to do it all while trying to NOT think murderous, impure thoughts!
With another frustrated growl, she tossed the broom aside and marched outside, rain soaking through her clothes, and headed for the well.
The stomping boots certainly impeded him from crawling out of his hiding spot. Quinlan never thought he'd end up back here in this godforsaken land, but here he was, none the wiser, and twice as bitter. He shuffled in the bush, hunkered down and waiting.
Phew that was a close one.
And just when he thought the coast was clear, he started to crawl out again, and felt his head bump into the leg of a girl and get tangled in her skirt.
Clover was just walking along, through the rain, getting pissed on by God, when right as she passed by a clump of bushes on her way to the well...
Things got WEIRD.
A shape suddenly crawled out of the bushes, straight into her, bumping into her legs even as she kept walking forward--and her skirts quickly tangled around the shape, and her own legs. She let out a wail of panicked alarm--WHAT WAS THAT THING?!--and flailed for balance and might have otherwise caught herself--if the ground weren't already slippery with mud. Her heel slipped and she grabbed in vain at the shape assaulting her, which only served to pull him down with her as she fell, landing on her back in the mud--
With her assailant's head still tangled in her skirts, and her legs wrapped around his neck.
"AHHHH! IT'S A FUCKING PERVERT DEMON! GET OFF ME!" she squealed, and immediately started to beat at the thing with her tiny fists.
Just when he was about to get untangled from her skirt, her footing slipped and brought her down with him. He growled frustratedly, getting a faceful of womanhood without ANYONE BUYING HIM A DRINK FIRST! He huffed amid her squeals and pulled the fabric off his head when he was free. Quinlan immediately flew over her, covering her mouth with his hand!"
"Shut up!" He hissed. "You wanna bring the whole fucking army down on us? Besides it was your fault anyway! You assaulted me! If you think I'm gonna be doing any of that for free, you've got another thing coming!"
Clover was still flailing and squealing like a banshee when the man--oh, not a demon!--flew over her and covered her mouth, muting the noise to muffled outraged. Her face went bright red with horrow and mortification, and she wasn't sure which outcome would have been better: for it to have been a demon afterall, or for it to have been a strange man that had his face in her nethers! And a man that was now pinning her to the muddy ground in a most inappropriate fashion! Inwardly, she panicked. He was much bigger than her and she was all alone and he had been literally trying to get in her skirts!
And then he had the gall to blame HER!
Her eyes went wide with indignation and horror before narrowing to angry slits, and then she did the unladylike thing.
She bit him, and struggled all the more. "Gerroff!!"
"Ow! You fuckwit! You bit me! What are you a gerbil?" he asked, and moved off of her but kept his hand firmly on her mouth. "Just shut up! I didn't do anything wrong! I swear. Now if I take my hand off your mouth, you have to promise not to scream! Do you promise?"
He got more angry, muffled gibberish as his answer. But for all of that, Clover did at least nod, even if she didn't stop glaring at him. But beneath all the biting and glaring and bluster, there was obvious fear in her eyes, too.
He cut eyes out toward the church door, and seeing there was no activity inside, he carefully released his hand from her mouth. He held his breath just in case she decided against it. And he crawled off of her.
"Now I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get tangled in your business, down under."
As soon as he was off of her, Clover scrambled to her knees and yanked her frumpy dress down, making damned well and sure everything was properly covered! Her face was bright red as she glowered at him, making her freckles even more pronounced, and she quickly reached up to straighten her hair where it had fallen loose of her headscarf.
Not that there was any point to it. She was covered in mud and soaked through to her skivvies so now she had to clean both herself and the floor!
"HOW did you even MANAGE that?!" she barked, trying to control her rapidly beating heart. She pressed a hand to her chest and took a breath--but it was a calculated move, too, as she covered up the mage brand sewn onto her breast. "What are you doing, skulking about? This is a house of God! Not a place of...of...of skirt-chasing!"
"Pffft, as if there were anything under there worth chasing," Quinlan said almost under his breath but not quite. Still, he made an effort to dust himself off. "Look, I said I was sorry. And it was an accident. I wouldn't normally be caught dead near a place like this. So just warm your nipples. I know it's awful nippy out here."
He tore his eyes away from her chest. "You should apologize to me, I mean you almost suffocated me!"
"My...my...what?" Clover sputtered, face burning even hotter with embarrassment and indignation both as he used such language! In a goddamned church, too! Well, outside it, but still!
"You should watch your bloody tongue, it's not appropriate to speak like that here! This is holy ground!" she huffed, even as she moved both hands to her chest to cover herself and left muddy hand prints right over her breasts. Oh no. Was it...was she really showing through her dress?! "And you got me all dirty! Me, a poor church mouse just trying to do her work!"
But he'd gotten muddy, too. And even as her temper flared, she realized she should rein it in. Humility. Peace. Grace. Forgiveness. Those were all qualities blessed by Ansgar, though of course all fell short of His glory--and she certainly was now! She sucked in a deep breath, counted to three, and let her breath out slowly. He had apologized. Sort of.
"Alright. I'm sorry," she said at last, though it came out sounding a bit forced, like she had a sword at her back. "I didn't mean to...suffocate you. Or yell." Grr. "But you could at least show some respect! Here, look, why don't you help me bring in the water and then you can come inside and dry off, okay?"
Charity. Giving. Love. She just had to channel those here. Be who Ansgar wants her to be!
An apology. Hrm, did that make him feel better? Probably not, but there were worse things in the world than that right now, especially with thinking about who he thought who he was running from to begin with. He could let it go, since she did. Last thing he needed was for her to call the guards down on his head.
Admittedly, it was a rather quick switch, and the mud on her breasts just made him stare at them more. With a forced clearing of his throat he focused his attention to her. "It's the least I could do I suppose. But...we're not going in there are we?" he said pointing to the church.
Clover cocked an eyebrow and followed his gaze to the church, then gave him a puzzled look.
"Uh...yes?" she said. Was he daft? "Where else would I be talking about?"
"Oh, okay. Lead the way," he gestured. Then proceeded to pull up the collar of his coat as high as it could go.
Clover gave him an odd look. He didn't seem all that thrilled to be going inside a church. Maybe he was a demon, after all--they didn't like churches, did they? Could they even enter a holy space? Maybe that was vampires...
And she had just invited him inside.
She shoved the superstitious thought away, though she couldn't help notice how he adjusted the collar of his coat. Which made since, because it was cold and rainy outside, but with her mind wandering to vampires she couldn't help but think that was a strange coincidence.
You're being paranoid, Clover! After all, there was plenty of holy water inside!
With a long stare at him, she turned to the well, hooked a bucket onto the rope, and lowered it. A moment later, she cranked it back up and heaved the heavy bucket over the side--and then held it out for him to take. "There you go. Carry that, please."
She even asked nicely!
[Oh man, if Clover thinks he's a vampire, this won't end well. XD]
Quinlan watched her idly. She was a vicious little thing wasn't she. He wondered what she was in for. Nobody but lunatics were church mouses because they wanted to be. She had be a loon because it was the only plausible explanation he could come up with.
He did reach for the bucket, hoisting it up expertly. "Alright, Miss Whatever, where'd ya need me to take this?"
[*dies laughing* xD This'll be fantastic.]
"Clover," she supplied, still watching him a little too closely while trying not to be too obvious about it. If only he would bend over a little more, she might be able to catch a glance at his neck. "Miss Clover to you. Uh, just bring it inside, I gotta use it to mop. Take your boots off first before you enter, you hear? I don't want more mud all over my floors."
Turning her back to him, she lead the way, but her mind was racing. Okay, he was kind of tan, and vampires were supposed to be pasty, right? But maybe he was a recent one, which was why he was hiding his neck, and in which case, he might not be that dead looking. She was probably being ridiculous, it was probably nothing, but just in case, Clover quickened her pace so she could get inside the church before he could.
There was holy water on the altar! She'd just have to be sly about reaching it. She didn't want him to catch onto what she was planning.
Just in case.
Quinlan hesitated before stepping beyond the boundaries of the door. He could see some of the soldiers in the pews up ahead. He supposed if he didn't make much of a ruckus he wouldn't catch any of their attention. His hand slipped up enough to keep part of his face hidden, and it was thankfully stiff enough to stay that way.
"So, you need help mopping, or just some muscle to help you lift stuff?" he asked, setting down the bucket once he braved the inside. But he ignored the dirty boots bit.He vaguely met her gaze... why was she looking at him like that? Yeah, definitely a loon.
Her brain probably shot to the moon and never came down.
"Miss Clover...you still in there?" And snapped fingers in front of her face.
Clover was, indeed, staring. Because he was so totally a vampire. She'd caught that little gesture, the way he put his hand up as though to shield his face from the altar, as though he couldn't bear the sight of the holy relics up at the front. They were supposed to be physically painful or something.
She jumped when he snapped in front of her face. "Huh?! Oh. Uh. Hi! Yes. Sorry! I was thinking about something, nothing important, nothing concerning you at all!" she said with a laugh and took a few steps backwards, eyes still on him. "If you could start the mopping, that'd be great! I just...I'll be right back! I gotta grab something!"
And then she turned on her heel and scurried down the aisle, toward the altar--and the soldiers praying at the front.
Quinlan was immediately suspicious. He just watched her sputter and walk away and already panic was setting in. But what could be do. Run? She'd rat him out to the soldiers, possibly. Maybe she didn't know who he was, maybe it didn't matter.
He only then remembered his muddy boots and took them off, as he sat down quietly in a pew, watching where she went. He didn't want to bring attention to himself. And he set his boots on the floor, rolling his trouser legs up. Quinlan turned to the mop laid out, and idly mopped, watching her.
The soldiers had their heads bowed, eyes closed, and hands clasped, lips mouthing the words to some prayer or other. It was rude, unheard of even, to interrupt someone at prayer, but that was exactly what Clover did then.
"Psst. PSST! Hey, um, excuse me?" she hissed, waving a hand in front of the older soldier's face. He startled, blinked, and then glared up at her.
"Whatcha want, you little rat? Can't you see I'm praying?" he whispered back, voice sharp.
"Yes, yes, but this is important and you're soldiers and--and I think there's a vampire in here! Guy back there--no don't look at him!" she quickly added when he started to turn his head. He paused, and instead side-eyed the mopping man, then turned a hard gaze back to Clover. "You gotta like...slay him or something."
The soldier let out a weary sigh and bowed his head again, eyes closed. "Sure he is. Ain't heard of no vampire ever entering a church. Don't waste my time, rat."
"But--!"
"That means, 'scram'. Now scoot!"
Thoroughly dismissed, Clover let out an exasperated sigh and looked back to the "vampire", shoulders rolling back. Well. If nobody was going to help here, then she'd just have to help herself. Idiots! They were sitting ducks like that, heads down and necks exposed!
With another huff for good measure, Clover turned to the altar, marched over to it, and snatched up the bowl of holy water, and strode back toward the vampire, jaw set. Fine. FINE. She would just have to prove it to everybody that she wasn't crazy and something weird was going on here and that this guy was totally shady!
"I brought some more water!" she announced cheerfully as she approached, all smiles.
Right before she threw said water in his face.
Fucking knew it! She sold him out! Or was in the process of doing so as he watched her up ahead. It was all from the corner of his eye and difficult to make out, but he could feel himself burning inside because of it. His heart sped up, Quinlan mopped slower, trying to hear those hushed whispers. Gods...he knew this was a mistake, why did he come back here?
Because he had one more person to try and save. If it was even possible.
But now was not the time to panic after he'd come this far.
Quinlan blinked up when he saw Clover approaching, and got a facefull of water. "What the fuck?" he said, trying to keep his composure as the soldiers turned around to look at him. Fuck. "I mean...I guess I needed a bath. Where's the soap?" he said through grit teeth.
...What?
Clover stood there holding the empty bowl, waiting, waiting for the screams and the burning and the hissing and--and nothing. There was no screaming, no sizzling, no burning. Just an irate man speaking through grit teeth as holy water dripped off his face.
She stared at him, jaw dropping. The soldiers had both turned to watch the show at that point.
"Oh, I...you're...you're not..." The blood drained from her face. "...You're not a vampire?"
Laughter broke out in the pews behind her.
"Hey what?" Quinlan heard that laughter and felt himself blush. "That's what you were talking to those bootrats about?"
He turned up to look at them, starung at them hard, and with a growing tension. Their laughter was slowly dying down. And he kept his gaze steady.
"No," he whispered, voice low so that only she could hear. "I'm not a vampire... what would make you think that?"
"Because, uh, you uh...you came outta the shadows and you, er...you looked uneasy about coming in a church and, um, yeah..." As she spoke, Clover felt her cheeks heat as she went from blanched to blushing. When she actually said it, it sounded ridiculous! She tapped her index fingers together nervously, not meeting the "vampire's" eyes.
"Then you kinda covered your face from the altar, and they say vampires can't stand looking at holy relics, so...uhh..."
It did sound pretty ridiculous now that she said it out loud, but after seeing the soldiers were still looking at them, it seemed the repercussions were happening after all.
"I was trying to avoid those guards," Quinlan said lowly. "But now they're staring at us...and can probably recognize me...and all because you thought I was some fabled monster..."
Wait a minute.
Clover stared at him, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait...you were trying to avoid them?" And then her eyes widened. "Are you a criminal?"
That was when one soldier stood up and tried to approach them quietly in the back. Quinlan was holding his breath, counting the footsteps walking toward them like the final prayers to the noose that would be placed around his neck.
He waited until they were close enough and he kept his eyes averted, looking at Clover the whole time. He just smiled at her, as if secretly wishing he could kill her right now without repercussions. He could boil her, he knew, but it didn't really solve any problems just thinking that.
"Is there something wrong here?" the soldier said. He snorted a laugh, and he snuck a look back to his friends, winking at them, as a show of how he was 'handling' the situation.
"No, nothing's wrong. Just having a chat with my friend here," Quinlan said, doing his best to disguise his voice. "So you can sit your fucking ass back down." That last part was growled, and the sneer vanished from the soldier's face.
"What did you say? You got one fucking chance to apologize," he replied, scowling.
Still Quinlan didn't look at him until his arm wrapped around Clover and he swiftly moved sideways, slamming his foot into the soldier's gut, and he stumbled backwards, rolling onto his ass, with his legs high in the air.
OH GOSH HE DIDN'T!!
...Well, that sure answered her question as to whether or not he was a criminal! She was pretty sure assaulting a soldier--in a house of God, no less!--was a criminal act!
"What are you doing?!" Clover yelped at the not-vampire, grabbing onto the arm he had wrapped around her in shock. "You just kicked a soldier!" As though he wasn't aware of exactly what he'd done, but she couldn't believe it! Was he crazy?!
It certainly got the other two soldiers' attention, too.
They bolted to their feet, and one even went so far as to draw his sword with a growl. "Release the girl and put your hands in the air!" he barked, and Clover gasped at the sight of naked steel.
"W-what are you--? No! Stop, all of you! This is a church! You can't do this here!"
"Quiet, brat!" the soldier snapped before glaring at Quinlan. "I won't repeat myself."
Damn did this guy have a thick fucking skull! As if the kick to the gut didn't quite drag his point across!? Did he have to get kicked in the fucking head too!? Looks like he did!
"You just don't know when to quit do you?" Quinlan growled and stepped back as the soldier began to advance again. Quinlan had to think fast, still holding Clover strongly in his left arm and he flung his foot forward, his bare foot colliding with the hardwood bucket and kicked it into the air, sending it sailing headlong into the soldier's head. Quinlan turned swiftly and ran out the door, feet sliding a little on the wet floor.
But he kept going, determined not to be caught by these trench dogs. He adjusted Clover over his arms, throwing her over his shoulder and bolting off, the other soldiers bolting after him. Turning swiftly on the ball of his foot, Quinlan made for the nearest entryway - y'know excluding the, ahem, front door - and ran up the stairs toward the bell tower.
"Hum?"
As Esderand entered one of Uthlyn's churches, he was struck by a rather shocking sight. He arrived just in time to watch a man carrying someone in church garb being chased upstairs by a group of the soldiers.
This, is probably a bad time. He quickly shut the door, and hoped no one inside had noticed him.
Was...was she his hostage? Was that what was happening right now?! Clover shot a wide-eyed look up at Quinlan's face, her heart racing like wildfire and cheeks paling, and if she wasn't currently being grabbed by a crazy not-vampire she might have found that bucket trick super impressive! (Okay, so it was still really impressive...) But right then she could only sputter in disbelief as he took the guard out--
And then squeal sharply when he threw her over his shoulder.
Her squeal cut off with a grunting gasp as his shoulder smacked into her gut and, wheezing, she grabbed at the back of his shirt as he took off, the bouncing of his steps driving his shoulder into her belly again and again as he bounded up the stairs.
"Ahh! No, no, stop! PUT ME DOWN!" she yelped, and pounded her fists on his back, kicking her legs wildly. "Let me go! NOW! I'm pretty sure this is a hundred different kinds of sin! HELP! Help me, someone! He's got the demons in him!"
It wasn't that she was a hostage perse. She was more like insurance in case things went bad, and because this was all her fault. And if Quinlan needed something to land on, she could serve that purpose as his safety cushion.
"I ain't got no demons! You threw water on me!" Because water was totally the same as acid. But Quinlan was willing to forgive her this time as he bounded up the steps toward the balcony level of the church, the soldiers following after him. He wrapped both arms around her kicking legs. "Hold still! This'll hurt less if you stop resisting!" And he used her butt to shove down the door in front of him.
"Hurt less?!" Clover repeated, a note of fear squeaking out--which turned into a grunt as he used her rear as a battering ram. And if he thought that would make her struggle less, he was very wrong! She thrashed all the more in his grip, beating his back with her fists, and tried to kick her legs free of his hold on them--unsuccessfully.
"What do you MEAN 'hurt less'? Oh God, don't hurt me! Please! I'm sorry I threw water on you, really! I'm sorry! Please don't sacrifice me!" Because that's what demon possessed people did, right? Sacrificed virgins on altars or something?
And he had to be possessed to act so crazy!
The giant bell came into view then as they went through the doors and onto the roof. There was nowhere to go from here.
Well. Except down.
He wasn't THAT nuts, was he?!
Ansgar's Balls! If only she would stop talking! Gods, the crazy ones always wouldn't stop talking. The endless mouth wasn't exactly part of the attraction, but as a means of being a viable hostage it definitely wasn't a plus either. Quinlan growled as they ran toward the bell tower and the very sight of it coming fast into view made his heart thump faster and harder in his chest.
"I mean!" he panted. "It'll be a lot less PAINFUL! FOR! THE! BOTH OF US!" The words were shouted as he narrowly avoided the swiping bolt of a crossbow that he'd neglected to notice one of the soldier's carried. Great, now he had to strafe!
He turned abruptly and suddenly jumped across the opening below the bell, snatching one hand on the pull rope an swinging across,all the while ringing the bell hard and making the whole of their surroundings shake and drop dust all around.
Quinlan kept going across the chapel roof, out of one of the windows and carefully gripped onto one of the stone gargoyles outside, skittering right on the edge. "Look, you got us into this. Now, I'm getting us out. Any questions? No? Didn't think so!" And turned from the ledge to slide down the side of the roof and kicking up when he reached the ledge to land in the branches of the tree in chapel courtyard.
He wondered if the soldier's would miss those horses tied to the base of it. That was if he didn't break his neck on the way down from the tree.
Oh God! That bolt came awfully close to her, too! Were those soldiers even paying attention to where they were aiming?! Or did they even care, since she was a marked mage?
"Watch where you're shooting!" she cried as another bolt whizzed by and whipped up her hair. With another squeal, she threw her arms over her head and squeezed her eyes shut as though that would protect her, no longer struggling and now just trying to survive the ride. "Help! Please! HE'S CRAZY--!"
And then she cut off with a scream when, suddenly, they were soaring and then swinging, and only then did she open her eyes again--and sorely regretted it when she saw how high they were, swinging over the gap by the bell tower's cord.
She clapped both hands over her mouth to keep her stomach in.
But they made it--or rather, he made it--and then they were off over the roof, so dizzyingly high, and she closed her eyes again and clung onto his shirt, her screams devolving into terrified sobs as he ran along the edge and then slid down it! She was going to die, she just knew it, she just--
...And then she felt leaves against her face, and twigs scratching at her skin. She cracked her eyes open. They...they were in a tree...?
Clover's breath came out in fast, terrified little pants, her fingers curled white-knuckled into his shirt. And then she gasped when a flaming arrow thunked into the tree trunk, right above her head, and another followed to hit right to Quinlan's left. The tree caught, the flames licking up the bark and catching on dry leaves.
"GET HIM!" someone shouted from above.
Clover made one last futile effort at wiggling free, smacking at his back with her fists. "Let me go! Please! I'm sorry!"
"You wanna go? Fine! Go!"
Quinlan released her as soon as they were on the ground. When the voice from above shouted for him to be gotten however, he pointed at the guards that were pouring out from the side of the chapel. "Except do you really want to take your chances with them instead of me!? They're gonna kill you!"
[So short! D:]
As soon as he set her down, Clover wasted no time in picking up her skirts, prepared to bolt--but his words made her freeze about the same time she laid eyes on the soldiers pouring out. Each of them fully armed.
They...they were going to kill her?
Why her?!
She hadn't done anything! She'd only warned them about the possessed madman--
...Oh.
Oh, wait.
Except she was a mage, marked or not. And if he was possessed, then...well...folks had a bad habit of blaming bad luck on mages.
Did they think she had something to do with it? That she was fraternizing with the enemy?
She cut a wide-eyed look at her would-be kidnapper just as an arrow hit the ground at her feet, making her gasp. It was almost like they were shooting at her!
"W-why are they shooting at me?!" she cried, even as she lunged behind him for protection and clung to his shirt. "I didn't do anything!"
"You think these fucking soldiers give a shit!?"
He didn't bother waiting for an answer before he swooped her up into his arms and was off running toward the horses that were still secured to the flaming tree and he cut the damn leathers loose but kept hold of a chestnut horse and threw her atop the saddle.
Quinlan jumped up behind her and kicked the horse into motion.
No, no she didn't think they cared. A marked mage would be no more than collateral, if that.
So when Quinlan scooped her up, this time she didn't protest except to let out a squeaked gasp, and soon she found herself atop a beautiful horse, no doubt one of the soldier's. She dug her fingers into its mane to hold on, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it, and leaned over its neck to keep her head low. She felt the man mount behind her but didn't dare look, afraid she'd see a flaming arrow sailing for her face.
"Oh Lord Ansgar, save me from evildoers, keep me safe from violent people..." she began to pray aloud, eyes clenched shut.
Oh the words that were uttered from her lips were lingering on his ears, tingling down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shivered and felt his heart beat heavily in his chest. His blood was roaring, boiling but in a good way. He squeezed the horse and the beast moved like the wind. With a huff, the horse snorted and ran off.
He clung to the reins, with one arm secured around her waist. The sounds of the men following them slowly dissipated, but he knew it wouldn't be long before they caught up with them. Quinlan was decent on horseback and the horse seemed a lot happier to be away from fire.
Clover didn't dare open her eyes as she clung to the horse's mane and continued her desperate prayer. Everything had gone so, so wrong so quickly, and she still didn't understand how or why! Except for the part where she'd flung water at the man. Was that the catalyst? Oh God, why couldn't she just keep her big mouth shut? It wasn't the first time it had gotten her into trouble, but the sinking feeling in her gut told her that this time was different, and there might not be any coming back from this.
She only stopped praying when her throat grew sore, but she couldn't stay quiet long. Chancing a look over her shoulder at the crazy man, she cleared her throat. "What now?" She swallowed. "Wh-where are we going? They're not gonna get us, are they?"
Quinlan squeezed his thighs firmly against the horse's side. Even with not being the best rider in the world, he was able to allow the horse to run as he pleased while still remaining somewhat in control. He hadn't realized then that they'd gone deep into the forest surrounding that small chapel, the horse easily and eagerly weaving between trees as if it hadn't gotten a chance to run in ages.
With a chuff though, the horse slowed down, throwing his head back and dancing on his hooves and looking back at the pair on his back.
"I....fuck!" Quinlan cursed and shook his head. Gods! Did she have to out him!? This was all her fault. And yet somehow his, but because it was easier to focus on her right now, he ignored the fact that his head had been caught under her skirt from the beginning. He turned on her swiftly and gave her a narrow-eyed glare. "What were you thinking!?" he growled. "You could have gotten both of us killed! I wasn't going to hurt you, but those soldiers damn well will. You think they give a shit you're a mage!? There's bloody war going on and you thought I was a vampire... I would spank your face, but I'm not that kind've guy. We're in a real pickle now, Dot."
"Clover," she corrected, sharper than she intended, because now that some of the shock had begun to wear off, anger was starting to trickle in--and she embraced it. After all, fiery anger was a far better feeling than icy, heart-squeezing terror, and she was scared, deep down to the core of her soul. But fear was a helpless, hunted sensation; anger made her feel like she actually had a little control in the situation, whether she did or not.
Crossing her arms to hide her trembling hands, she shot him a deep frown from over her shoulder. "It's Clover, not Dot. And it wasn't my fault! What was I supposed to do? You were acting like a vampire!" Even though she had never actually met one to know how one actually behaved. "I wasn't going to just keep quiet and risk you hurting someone! Which begs the question of why on earth were you acting so shady?! OH!"
She sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide with fresh horror and realization as she clutched a hand to her chest. "You're a spy, aren't you?! And I gave away your position! Oh God. You're not taking me off to some dark, secluded place good for dumping bodies, are you?"
"I'm not a fucking spy!" Quinlan spat back to her, just as angry. "I'm a criminal! I've killed Mordecai and those soldiers probably know a wanted man when they see one. I didn't mean to take you hostage, but really when you turned their attention to me, I didn't really have a choice. Besides, you have the mark, mage. You probably were going to be a victim sooner or later. It was just a matter of time."
The last words left him sobered and he shook himself of the anger. What use was it to scowl, growl, and scold this tiny creature that felt so bold as to correct her name. Ugh, and Clover? "What kind of name is that anyway?" he blabbed, scoffing. "Really? Why didn't they just name you Crabgrass?"
The blood drained from Clover's face. Oh, she knew he was a criminal of some sort, all right, but a murderer?! A killer of Mordecai! Her eyes went saucer wide. She had never met a murderer before.
Fumbling at the high neck of her dress, her fingers found the chain there and she pulled out the small pendant she wore--a symbol of Ansgar--and clutched it tightly. God knew she was going to need every small bit of help and protection and guidance she could muster. It was enough to tamp her own anger and remind her of just how perilous a situation she was in, at the mercy of a criminal. But no, she had to be brave! God was with her, right? She just had to believe and trust it was true and let that strength fill her, just like all the good martyrs of the past.
The thought made her stomach twist. She didn't want to be a martyr, though. Martyrs were dead.
"Clovers are lucky!" she said despite her fear, rolling her shoulders back--and felt a little foolish for saying it. This was certainly not luck. She was a very unlucky Clover right now. But she couldn't take the words back, and her tongue didn't seem to want to start once it got flapping. "A-and they're pretty and have flowers and it's probably better than whatever your name is!"
"Quinlan," he replied. "You'll probably hear about it somewhere at some point. Better you heard it form me." He nodded to her and took in a deep breath. Calm down. Being mad wasn't going to fix their situation. He was still a wanted man, and had her mixed up with him. The question remained now...what was he going to do with her?
Couldn't just let her go now could he?
"Look I'm...sorry that I dragged you into this. You're just a victim and I freaked out and now you're.... FUCK!" he cursed loudly. "Oh, sorry, Church Mouse. Look, if you go back now, maybe explain to the soldiers they'll...let you go. I dunno. I'm not going to hurt you."
Go back?
For a brief second, Clover's heart lifted with hope, that she could just walk back home, go back to her quiet, boring life--and then her hopes sank like a turd in a lake.
Explain to the soldiers? Explain to the soldiers that had been shooting at her?
She was a mage, mixed up with a criminal. All these people ever wanted was an excuse to hang a mage. Or burn them.
"Maybe.? Maybe? They were shooting at me, too!" Clover said, voice turning into a squeak as the situation began to sink in even more, as she began to realize just how deep in this she was. She pressed a hand to her mouth, her talisman biting into the palm of her other hand as she clutched it, panic tightening in her chest. He was sorry, he said. He didn't mean to, he said. And he sounded sincere enough, regretful enough, said he wasn't going to hurt her--and if he wanted to, wouldn't he have already done it? But...but now what?
"I can't go back now! They think I'm with you! I think! Why else would they shoot at me--ow!"
She jerked and opened her hand, the one that had been clutching her necklace, and the little talisman fell back against her chest. With a wince and a frown, she looked at her hand, her palm bleeding where the charm had bit into the skin--and as it pooled in the creases of her hand, she found it hard to look away.
Her pleas didn't fall on deaf ears. Even though he didn't want to let her go really. That wasn't how hostages worked. But she quickly was going to fall into disuse now that he thought about it. Quinlan didn't like having even more dead weight on him than usual. He was quiet during her tirade.
And watched her hands. The blood, and her expression. Quinlan's eyes narrowed, and he felt his breath hitch. "What's the matter?" he found himself asking. "Cat got your tongue?"
But carefully he reached across him and closed his hand over hers, cupping the back of it before he brought his mouth down to lap at her palm. Weird, but it would sate the itch that was coming into his own veins, that burning ache that begged for his magic to be used. "You're a mage.... What's you curse?"
Clover hardly heard his question. Because if there was one way to snap her out of that trance, it was licking her hand.
HE WAS A VAMPIRE AFTER ALL!
With a horrified squeak, Clover jerked her hand back and stared at him with wide eyes. "Wh-wha--! You licked me! My blood! YOU DRANK MY BLOOD!"
Quinlan dropped his head. "I licked your blood to stave off my own magic making things hell for me, not because I'm a vampire. And if I was, I've had better," he said and stuck his tongue out childishly at her.
"My blood magic is a bloody curse. No pun intended. A demon made it so my own magic would slowly kill me, in the most painful way possible. Think of a thousand tiny needles running up your veins, barbed needles that don't tingle the way a sleeping limb does, but very consciously being able to feel them stabbing you from the inside. So no, I'm not a vampire. I'm just a very very stupid man."
...Blood magic?
He...he had blood magic?
The announcement was enough to sober her, leaving her staring at him in a mixture of wonder and fear. He was no vampire, then. Rather, he was exactly like her.
Except for the curse.
Sucking in a breath, Clover opened her hand and glanced down at the fresh blood still seeping out. With a shudder, she closed her hand again and swallowed, looking back up at Quinlan. "I...I've got blood magic, too," she said quietly. "That's my curse. Er. Though not like your curse. I don't...I didn't get mixed up with no demons."
And then she looked at her hand again and paled. "...I don't think so, anyway. I've never felt...that. The needles. But...I guess it'd make sense if it was demons." She bit her lip. "It's evil."
Quinlan licked his lips.
"Well, it's a little too late to take it back now," Quinlan chuckled. He smirked at her and wrapped his hands around hers. She was a blood mage too. Why was that somehow unsurprising? The amount of fervor she had for the Church and the life she knew however, was a little bit moreso.
It was the only life she knew, and it was where she felt the most safe. And he just violently wrenched her from it.
"We're quite a pair then," Quinlan smirked, snickering. "Look, I won't lick you again, if you promise not to be all...erm, hysterical. Sorry, didn't mean that 'cause you're a woman. Just because, well. You're kinda scary when you're screaming."
Clover's lips went thin. "I'm the scary one? I only scream when you scare me! You're the scary one! Stop scaring me and I'll stop screaming!" she huffed, tugging her hands free and crossing her arms. Though he was a little less scary at the moment, now that they weren't being shot at and he'd proven he wasn't a vampire and he was no longer hauling her about like a sack of potatoes through all sorts of wild acrobatics.
Less scary, but she was still frightened out of her wits. She'd never come close to death before. And never had anyone want to kill her. Those soldiers had wanted to kill her, and she couldn't go back home now.
She shuddered, rubbing her arms, forgetting her cut and smearing a little blood on the sleeve of her dress. "So...now what? Are you going to, um...just leave me somewhere?"
He couldn't help but smile though her little tirade. Somehow it was kind of cute the way she went on like that, there was a certain gleam to her eyes that amused him and he chuckled. Yeah, sure, he probably didn't make the best first impression. Being harassed by soldiers, on the run, and seeming to kidnap random people had a tendency to sour any positive interactions they could have had.
"You know, you're always welcome to come with me," Quinlan said. "I came back to Connlaoth to find my sister. I know there's a war raging around, and only a fool would come back. But well, considering how we met, I've established that already. And...well, if you want, I could leave you. But I'll not make that choice for you. Come along, the middle of the forest is never pleasant. There are bears and soldiers about."
"Don't leave me!" Clover said before she could think, grabbing onto his sleeve. Bears and soldiers, indeed! And though she found this man scary still, bears and soldiers were scarier. At least he'd proven he didn't want to kill her; he would have already hurt her if he meant to, right? God, this was so confusing! He had kidnapped her and gotten her into this mess, and now she was terrified to leave him even with freedom offered!
But...what were her choices? If she didn't go with him, where would she go? She was a marked mage, and one those soldiers had tried to shoot! The villagers wouldn't help her; they didn't trust her as it was, anyway, and they would never believe her innocence. The soldiers would likely shoot her on sight. And the church was all she knew. She didn't know where she could go.
She certainly didn't know how to survive in the wilderness.
Clover swallowed nervously. Iffy as it was, this man was her greatest chance of survival--if he didn't get them into another bad situation! And there was the added complication that he was also a mage, unmarked and wild. A blood mage, at that, and one demon-touched...
Oh, she hoped Ansgar understood. She didn't want to do this! She just...also didn't want to die.
God, what choice have you given me? And didn't everything happen for a reason?
There...must be a reason for this.
...Right?
"I-I mean, I'll go with you," she said, clearing her throat. "Um. Where are you going?"
Quinlan just knew one thing. He'd rather take his chances out in the wilds than go back there and be killed by those soldiers, or worse be arrested. Whatever it was they had in store for him, it didn't look like they were interested in negotiating or apologies.
And he sympathized more with this church mouse than he did with those jackboots anyway.
"We'll have to do something about your mark then," Quinlan said and gestured to her clothing. "Did they claim your skin too? I'm headed further east. Truth be told, that's the last place I remember my sister being, but it's been so long since I've been in Connlaoth."
He reached his hand out to her and moved back to the horse, to help her up onto it, and climbing on the back himself.
With a grimace at his question, Clover settled down onto the horse, shifting until she felt more secure in the saddle, if still unsettled because she hadn't really been one for horses and felt like it would be too easy to fall off. It was so high up! And here she had been hoping for a simple life with her greatest excitement coming from theological debates.
She sighed, gripping the horse tight with her thighs, her dress hitching up awkwardly and exposing way too much stocking. She flushed, having not noticed it before when they were being SHOT AT, and tried to jerk her skirts down more.
"Yeah, the mark's skin deep, you could say," she said, and rolled back the sleeve of her right arm. There on the underside of her wrist was a brand matching the one sewn in her dress. It wasn't always like that; she hadn't always worn that one, and it was obvious in the way the skin was still new and pink. But as the war dragged on and paranoia grew, some in her town had begun to demand physical brands, too. So when the Father told her such, she submitted, even though it was awful. It was supposed to keep her safe, show her obedience.
She pulled the sleeve back down.
"Is your sister a mage, too?" she asked, grabbing onto the horse's mane.
Quinlan lightly tapped his heels into the horse and the animal began to trot onward, muscles twitching from the lapse in adrenaline. A nicker and a soft whinny, and the horse looked at the pair of them as if fully intending to take them right back to those soldiers.
These interlopers weren't too bothersome the mare supposed and kept on walking.
"My da is. I haven't spoken to him in years either..." Admitting it was harder than he thought it would be and Quinlan felt his throat tighten up. "My sister had a bit of a gift, but...I was the only one that ever... erm, well, y'know. Demons. He was a merchant of trinkets, enchanted small things. It was never something strong enough that people noticed he was a mage. And we lived on a small farm outside of a small town in Folkvar. So y'know it was easy to hide it."
Quinlan frowned and sighed, noticing Clover's leg and he made himself laugh although it had little humor in it. "Y'know, I'm not, er...how should I say, like gawking at you or anything. I hope I don't make you uncomfortable. I mean, you're not ugly. Let me just tell ya that."
"You better not be gawking!" Clover said, feeling her face heat all the more. She reached and yanked at her dress again, but it hardly made a difference. It wasn't like she'd had time to prepare for this! Not that she owned any riding skirts to begin with. "Gawking's a sin, after all. So if you were you'd better ask forgiveness and maybe do some fasting! Clean your soul."
She cleared her throat awkwardly. Not ugly? She guessed that was a compliment? Or something? She wasn't sure. She hadn't really given much thought to her appearance. Vanity was a sin, after all, and they didn't keep mirrors in her church for that reason. (And because the Father was a bit superstitious, and claimed mirrors could be gateways for the demonic.) She had no reason to worry about whether she was ugly or attractive. The church was her life, and she would never be married to anything but it.
She shifted a little on the horse, her ass already growing sore. "Anyway, why ain'tcha ever gone back? Home, I mean. And is your sister lost or something? In trouble?"
Quinlan cackled at her reaction. Good god, she'd been in the church a long time. Well, yeah, if that was all she knew. While it would have alarmed any other person, he thought it was hilarious. Oh, any prospect of cleansing his soul was gone out the window a looong time ago.
"Oh, I'm a sinner, Church Mouse. Down right and dirty. You better keep some distance. Or my sins...might rub off on you," he chuckled and tilted his head in an exaggerated display of 'gawking' and sucked air in sharply between his teeth. "Oowie, mama. I likes what's I sees-a." And cackled again.
Quinlan nudged the horse to go on a little further and scratched at the animal's mane. He sobered a little from the humor when she brought up his sister again. "In case I didn't say it before, I'm not exactly well-liked here in our good ol' land of the Great Grand Duke. It's kinda hard to just walk in when you're wanted for murder. Thankfully the civil war is a decent enough distraction."
He cleared his throat and shifted himself in the horse. "My sister is in trouble," he said plainly, frowning now and looking at the shadows between the trees, feeling his hackles raising on his neck. "You see, I had a dream. A really bad one. And I knew I had to come to Connlaoth, to get my sister out of here. She's the only good thing I ever left behind. Don't you have any family?"
Clover let of a sputtering gasp at his "gawking" display, her skin going crimson. Joke or not, that was downright lewd! And she had half a mind to whip around and box his ears good, give him a good ol ' taste of church-style penance, when he sobered.
The subject of family was definitely a mood killer. "Course I've got family. My parents live in town, and my brothers. I...don't see them much."
She frowned, bunching and unbunching her skirts in her hands. "They thought it was safer that way. Distancing themselves from me, since I'm a mage and all. Didn't wanna bring bad luck upon themselves. Unlucky enough they had a mage as a daughter. So, the church is my family now."
She rolled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. "What kinda trouble's your sister in?"
Leaving her behind to the Church. Just like that? He didn't know about her but that seemed awfully cruel to him. To simply separate someone because they were different. What kind of idiot thought that would actually help someone?
At least his father hadn't kicked him out for simply being a mage. If anything his father wanted his family to stay together. Stay safe with each other. That was until...
Quinlan bit down hard on his lip in order to keep his sorrow from overwhelming him. "She's...she's under siege," he said softly. He didn't know how else to put it. "Demons that can't get to me. Are going to try and get to her... And I have to help get to her before they do. Or get them out of her if I can. I should have never left her behind."
He felt a tear roll down his cheek, but he wiped it quickly away with the back of his hand. "She's not cursed like I am. But demons are fickle little bastards. They don't give a shit."
"That sounds...real bad," Clover said, awkwardly. No kidding that sounded bad! That was a massive understatement, but what else did you say to something like that?
She rolled her shoulders as a chill slid down her spine. Demons. Was it...dangerous to be with this man, who was demon-touched? Would it invite demons into herself? Was that how demonic possession worked? But what were the alternatives? Go wit him, or face the world alone.
Her belly clenched, the reality of it all sinking in another inch, but she swallowed hard. Right now, it still felt so surreal. It was probably better to keep it that way.
"How...er...how do you fight a demon?"
Sure, it sounding bad was only the the beginning of it. Quinlan knew that he was crazy, but he didn't know if he was crazy enough to simply 'dream' up that his sister was in danger. Why else would he risk going to some backwater wartorn country that he wanted only to put behind him? Why hadn't he taken Malena with him?
A white hot sensation scorched the bit of his torso just beneath his sternum, above his stomach, a sickening ache that made him want to take a Mordecai' head and slam it into a rock until he saw the gray pasta inside. An anger at himself that made him entwine his finger's in the horse's mane.
Until the church Mouse's question caught him off guard. He blinked and shrugged his shoulders a little. "Well, a demon is, uh...a spirit, of sorts. And you have to fight spirits on the same level that they are. When I first got my magic, I had prayed to Ansgar...but he didn't listen, then I prayed to anyone that was, and I felt it inside of me... Power. And it made me glow inside."
He forced out a snort. "Not like a lantern or nothing. It made me....feel alive. Like every sense was opened up and as if I'd been numb to everything until then. Like your body on the bring of ecstasy," he said nonchalantly. Quinlan looked at her and gave her a side-long glance. "How does the Church tell you to fight a demon?" he asked, curious.
Clover shuddered at his description--his very, very apt description. Because what he said described exactly how her own power felt, and it reminded her all too vividly that it was still there, was always there, even when she tried to pretend she was normal. Even now she could feel it inside her veins, flowing through her body to the rhythm of her heart like a warning. A warning of how easy it was to just reach out and use it, because it was always within reach, always a finger-prick away.
She licked her lips as her mouth grew dry and swallowed hard. Don't think about it. Thinking was a slippery slope down the path of temptation.
"Um...they don't really teach it. At least not to folk like me. I just clean the church and do my chores and studies," she said with a frown. "But I guess through exorcisms and prayer and things. If you believe and you pray real hard, Ansgar will deliver you. You just have to have faith."
Pray really hard. Now there was a kicker. And it was those words that caused Quinlan to cackle outloud, throwing his head back. He hadn't meant to laugh but at that kind of devotion, who couldn't!? Well, maybe it was a bit of a dick move, and maybe she didn't deserve it, and maybe Quinlan just wanted her to be miserable right along with him.
He sobered and sniffed loudly. "Well, at least one of us does," he said with a grunt. "It seems to be more important to you than it is to me. At least Ansgar is watching over you, eh? Because clearly you've experienced miracles. How else would you have faith?"
It was rhetorical question, and perhaps even a bit mocking, and he guided the horse as it navigated between the trees. His eyes were vacant, and his brow furrowed. Quinlan felt himself growing sick at the conversation, and really he didn't want to talk about it. But he had to ask at least this one question.
"How do you know?" he began. "How do you know he's really watching over you?"
The man burst into laughter and the sudden sound made Clover jump, but once she realized he was laughing at her, her shoulders hunched up and her face colored. Oh, she could hear the mocking in his tone; she was quite familiar with that. After all, wasn't she just a huge joke? Why would she have faith in someone who had purportedly made her this way just to challenge her? It was something she had struggled with before, alternating between thinking it a wildly dick move to punish someone for the way they had been created and thinking there must be some greater purpose she was just too small to see. The Father had always told her it just meant she was strong enough that she could be tested in that way.
She didn't really understand, but he'd always told her that some things were beyond mortal comprehension.
Her hands tightened in the horse's hair, knuckles whitening, until the horse gave a snort of protest and tossed its head. "I HAVE experienced miracles," she snapped, glaring at the back of the horse's neck. "It's a miracle we're alive right now, for example! We could've died for all that crazy back there! But we didn't! Any of those arrows could've hit us, but Ansgar must've wanted us to live!"
She shot a quick glower back at him."That's how I know He's watching over me. 'Cause there's been a lot of times and reasons I shouldn't even still be here, but I still am and so are you. I was praying REAL hard I'd come outta this alive and look, still in one piece. You oughta be thankful, too!"
"Ha! That was no small thanks to me and my quick thinking" Ahem, not thinking at all more like, but he wasn't going to tell her that - "that got us out of that mess, Church Mouse. I saved our lives, not some invisible absentee father figure. If Ansgar didn't really want us to die, why did he let those soldiers attack us in the first place? That doesn't add up," he growled.
Quinlan sniffed and nudged his feet into the horse's side to let them trot and Quinlan shook himself of that sickening feeling again. "But look, I'm not trying to sway your or change your heart, Mouse. You believe what you want. I'll believe what I know. That's all i can really tell you. That's all I can say that matters. What's here and now is what's important."
Quinlan glanced back and listened closely, just in case they were being followed. And sure enough, they were. "All right, Mouse. Hold that mane tight! We've got company!" he hissed. And reached around her to grip the reins, nudging the horse into a gallop.
Clover was about ready to tear him a new one, because he was wrong, so, so wrong! He hadn't saved either of them! He'd been dumb as bricks and almost got them both killed with his wild acrobatics and flirting with death!
She took a deep breath, really winding up for a full-blown rant--absentee father figure?! How dare him! But before she could finish drawing air, he said the dreaded words.
We've got company.
With a squeal of surprise as the horse kicked into a gallop, she grabbed the horse's mane tight and leaned over its neck to stay low, her heart leaping into her throat. "See?! SEE?! That's what happens when you insult God!" she cried. "You doubted, now we're in trouble! We were doing JUST FINE until you started bad-mouthing Him and now He's tipped them off to smite us! If you're gonna be a non-believer can you at least not say it where He can hear you?! I'm gonna pray for us! I'm faithful, maybe he'll at least listen to me over your dumb butt!"
The thunder of hooves announced the riders behind them, and shouts of "there they are!" rang out behind them.
"You should pray, too! Repent! Hurry!"
What the hell was wrong with this girl?
Repent!? Now of all times!?
"YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?" Quinlan shouted and even though his heart was in his throat, he turned the horse just enough to yank the mane to a halt and the horse whinnied in protest. Whipping it's head around, Quinlan wrapped his arms around Clover's and cupped them in standard prayer format, his hands over hers and he was still leaning over her shoulder.
"Okay, Ansgar! Deliver us from evil! Please! Let these good men skin us and teach us the error of our ways," he prayed. "This is how you pray, right Church Mouse? Ansgar! Do you hear us!?"
And as they just sat there on that horse, praying, their pursuers pushed faster through the trees to catch up with them.
"I'm praying, Clover! I'm trying!" Quinlan hissed. "Is it working?"
"What?! WHAT? What are you doing?!" Clover yelped when he jerked the horse to a halt, so abruptly she just about got whiplash. Before she could even register what was happening, he gathered her hands up in his. Hands pressed flat together, fingers steepled, she could only stare in bewilderment at their hands, joined in prayer position as he spoke over her shoulder and...
And...
Oh my God.
HE WAS PRAYING.
Which was the result she wanted, but not this way!
WAS HE SERIOUS?!
Clover gaped, stunned beyond words, but the sound of hoofbeats, growing louder and louder, and the shouts of men, snapped her out of it and she whipped a look behind her--and could see the men now, their arrows trained on them.
"OH GOD! I didn't mean like this! You can pray and move!" she yelped, her chest tight in fear. He was going to get them killed! She struggled, trying to pry her hands free, tried to kick her feet against the horse's sides to get it to move. "Quinlan! I'm sorry! Please, please, oh God, it's working, it's working, just get moving again!"
Oh this wasn't what she wanted? God's balls, couldn't she just make up her mind? Why on Earth did they have to run if Ansgar was looking out for them!? Quinlan's eyes became saucers and he gasped looking between their hands then their pursuers.
"WELL IF YOU SAY SO THEN!" he shouted and let go of her hands, dug it into the mane of the horse, and kicked the animal back into a gallop. The horse whinnied and shrieked just as dust kicked up in their wake. He curled his body around Clover's and his arms were secured tightly around her body.
"I never had been really good at praying!!!" he cried out, his heart pounding hard and fast, no doubt resounding against her back. "Good God! This is EXCITING!"
Quinlan made a whooping sound and leaned into her shoulder. Oh...was that fear painted on her face!? What the hell? Weren't they having a damn good time!?
"THAT'S THE BEST GODDAMNED PRAYER I'VE EVER DONE!" He laughed and guided the horse between trees and laid his body over hers when they passed beneath a low hanging branch. The soldiers had gained on them in the brief moment they had stopped.
A distance that Quinlan planned on stretching as much as possible.
EXCITING?! This was EXCITING to him?! This whole part where THEY COULD DIE?! While Quinlan whooped and laughed, Clover tried not to vomit with terror as they took off again and a few arrows thunked into the branch they had just ducked under.
"You're crazy!" she cried, burying her face in the horse's mane. "Do you WANT TO DIE?! Ever hear of praying to be saved from the flood, but don't say no to the boat passing by?!" And then, as soon as she said it, a horrible thought struck. A horrible, sinking thought that curdled in her belly like sour cheese. Clover's breath caught, stopped, and her eyes went wide.
"...Oh God. Are you my punishment?" she said out loud though she had meant to only think it. "Am I being punished for something? Is that what this is? Oh my God--is it because I've taken His name in vain?! Are you His messenger sent to avenge?"
Their pursuers were growing ever closer--close enough now to put an arrow in them, with a clear path between them. One of the soldiers broke off to flank them, running his horse hard, sweat frothing on its coat. "Final warning!" he shouted. "Halt! Or this time we won't miss!"
Geeze, was she really going to be prattling on and on about God and punishment and vengenace the entire trip? Somewhere behind all her screaming, Quinlan could hear and even see from the corner of his vision, the sight of a mounted soldier galloping across them and then along to the side. Fuck.
"I don''t want to die, but we're going to die if you don't quit nagging me!" he howled and he scraped his fingernails against old scabs across his palm. He hissed when it wasn't enough and brought his hand to his mouth. It was there that he bit down into his hand, scraping hand across his teeth until the healing cut opened and he felt it fill his palm with a small pool.
A sanguine puddle and he flicked his wrist to the ground, sending the blood across from him in the soldier's direction. It solidified into a spike of ice. And it cascaded across from them, piercing between the trees until it ended up in the soldier's side. A scream and a thud and he was a corpse on the ground.
"I don't want to die. But if we stop, we surely will," he growled in her ear, voice husky and low. Quinlan kicked the horse and pressed the animal harder although terror of the chase left them virtually on the verge of collaspe. "Don't you stop now! Goddammit!" As he turned the horse hard toward the right, he felt the bit of a fired arrow, burrowing itself into his arm. Quinlan didn't scream although his lungs burned for want of exhalation.
Like he would give them that fucking satisfaction. "T-take the reins," he murmured, handing them to Clover and gripped onto her with one arm, his other hand reaching around his shoulders to rip the arrow from his arm. His entire face was flushed and red, and what blood wasn't there was leaking out of his arm. Big fucking mistake.
That rush of red made Quinlan's veins burn. Hot breath escaped him and he pulled more out of his arm until he could solidify it into a pool in his hands. The jostling of the horse, Clover's nagging, and the cries of soldiers behind them all became distant echoes. His ears were deafened to all else but the call of the blood. And it was then that he felt himself drop from the saddle, body crashing to the ground.
Quinlan's neck hadn't been broken, by some miracle and his blood touched the soil, tainting it much as he had been. The soldiers were closing in, hooves digging deeper into soil, their weapons drawn, but no. They would crush him beneath those horses, he knew. It was an easier end than arresting him. A slow blink, a thrumming in his ears and when they were closer, he rose to his feet, limping and as they closed in, he threw himself up onto the closest soldier and yanked him to the ground. The other one stopped, drew his blade and flung himself from the saddle.
Quinlan dropped him and commanded the blood to take him, and there were the soil was soaked, the vines moved and the roots shredded the ground and wrapped around the soldier. Quinlan turned his screams to focus on the other one with his drawn sword. He took his own daggers out, watched and waited for him to strike first. Quinlan scuffled with him briefly and the soldier kicked him down, pressing a boot against his chest. Stumbling backwards, Quinlan was half-dazed.
"Fuck you," he hissed, and stabbed at the foot that stepped on his chest. Quinlan kicked his legs out from under him, crawling slowly over to him. "You don't hurt innocent people," he growled. "That girl did nothing to you. And you were gonna kill us both. I ain't gonna let you." And his hands pressed the edge of the soldier's own sword against his throat, slashing it and leaving him to choke on his own blood.
This was a nightmare. That's what this was. This had to be a dream!
The flanking soldier let out a strangled cry, cut off short, and the now riderless horse screamed in fear and bolted. Clover stared with wide eyes as it passed them by. She'd heard the wet thud, and she'd heard the scream, and though her stomach twisted, she looked over her shoulder--
And wished she hadn't. Was he dead?!
She'd never seen a dead body before.
And she was about to see a whole lot more.
The horse turned hard and Clover yelped and clung hard to the horse's mane, screwing her eyes shut and praying to God for a miracle. Everything was happening so fast, and with Quinlan behind her, she didn't see him get shot--but she did feel his absence, felt him roll off the horse and leave her back cold.
WHAT?
A bloodcurdling scream filled her ears, and her eyes snapped open as terror gripped her by the throat. She grabbed for the reins. Was that Quinlan? Was he leaving her--or dead?! She didn't know how to ride a horse! The horse whinnied and danced in a circle, confused as she jerked the reins back hard and then to the side as she wobbled from the sudden stop, and as it turned she got a clear view of a gurgling soldier writhing weakly in ropes of red, and Quinlan on the ground with a soldier closing in on him.
This was a nightmare.
"Oh God, no!" she cried--but her fear turned out to be misplaced. A quick motion and the soldier went down like a lamed deer, and though she couldn't hear what was said between them, she did see the end result.
The soldier's throat opened up like a fountain with so much red bubbling out between choking gasps. The other soldier wrapped in all that red had gone eerily still and quiet.
Clover paled at the sight, felt her own blood drain and breath seize, and the world darkened all around the edges and sound became a distant, faraway thing. She wobbled in the saddle--and then fell from it like a stone.