Wanderers [Ronan]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

7th Summer, 511 A.V. It was early in the day yet and the air had not yet begun to taste of heat, though it was certainly warm. Sama'el hadn't wandered far from Endrykas, but he was certainly among its outskirts, needing to have a bit of distance from the central knot of energy that was the Web where so many connections were made in the great traveling tent city. Out here he could more easily pick through tangled skein of energy to read what information was coming down along the ley-lines that stretched out across Cyphrus. Dohaina, his golden Strider mare, stood nearby, grazing and occasionally lifting her head, eyes and ears alert for the possibility of danger to her human, who was sitting on the ground. Or, at least, his body was. The rest of him was separated from that mortal shell, bound only by a thin, silvery cord of energy as he held the Web, tasting the impressions and messages passing along. This was part of his work for the Watch, and he felt honored to be one of those who worked with the Drykas mysteries. Most Drykas knew how to fight, and all Drykas knew how to ride, but only a select few could weave the Web, and those were called Ankals more often than not. This was part of his dream. He noticed then the approach of a man he didn't recognize, though Drykas by the look of him. He let the weight of his soul fall back into his body like a stone into a still pool, seeing the ripples of energy course through the Web even after he was looking out of his physical eyes once more. His extremities tingled as though they had been asleep as his spirit and his body melded together again and he waited for the man to arrive. Dohaina was looking in the right direction, alert but not upset. Not a threat, just a friend he hadn't met yet.

[Ronan]

Ronan sat atop his leggy brown Strider, Tairell. It was a pleasant day - not too hot, but a nice warmth that filled his body and ignited his bones. It was more pleasant still to be spending time with his horse - Ronan-Tairell time had become few and far between. He paused for a moment, breathing in the Cyphrus air - crystal clear, calming. This was the scent of the wilds, and very much a part of his heart and soul. Since he had lost his family and left his pavilion, nature had become his kin. The Grasses were his flesh and blood. Semele was his mother now, bless her name. But Darus... Don't think I've forgotten you. Your spirit is here, riding in the grass. He sighed wistfully, and then moved off - before noticing a figure in the distance. His eyes locked onto the male like a hawk, but he noticed the horse too - and though he retained an air of caution, his fear dissipated. Most likely another Drykas. He moved towards the man, curious to find out what had brought the other Drykas out into the Grasses. Not many dared - but Ronan was different. "Hello there!" he shouted awkwardly. The figure watched him, unflinching, unmoving.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

As Sama'el came out of his trance, he smiled at the man, standing up and rubbing his arms and wiggling his toes to more quickly acclimate his spirit to its temple. Dohaina whickered a greeting to Tairell and then went back to eating the grasses nearby, heated by the summer sun. With Sama'el alert again, she let her guard relax somewhat. It was when his spirit was absent that she became most vigilant, guarding his fleshly home until he returned to her. "Ho, stranger!" he called from the ground, looking up at the rider. Sama'el was of the Watch, and so did not feel guilty for the occasional question put to those traveling outside Endrykas. "What brings you out here this fine day?" The sun beat down upon the grasses, but Sama'el was also trying to let go of his Websight so the additional light of the ley-lines didn't blind him to the more mundane aspects of his normal senses.

[Ronan]

As he approached, Ronan began to make out the male figure of this stranger. He also noted the distant comprehension - the aloofness, and gentle concentration on surroundings. He knew immediately that this was no ordinary stranger, though he didn't feel threatened. As he got closer, the man looked up at him and smiled. "Ho, stranger!" he hollered, before asking him a question. "What brings you out here this fine day?" Ronan looked him over - there was something odd about him. He looked like he'd just seen a ghost. "Just riding. I spend a lot of time out here." Tairell was engrossed by the stranger's horse, and so Ronan climbed down, facing the stranger. He had told himself recently to rectify his social exclusion. He had to start talking, and involving himself in Drykas life. The terrors of his past would never fade, but they would never push him forward either. "I'm Ronan Windsong, by the way."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Sama'el of the Sapphire Clan," he replied. He could not speak the name of his dead pavilion for the shame of its destruction, not until he had raised it from the dead like the legendary phoenix. He reached out and clasped wrists with the other young Drykas, smiling. "Well met, Ronan Windsong. "I spend a lot of time out here myself," he said, glancing back at Dohaina and the wide prairie land beyond her. "Have to watch the Web and make sure everyone's safe. Want someone to ride with for a while?" He liked riding after working the Web, finding that connecting with Dohaina helped settle his spirit back into his body, reminding it of the other bonds it held despite its tendency to shed his mortal frame to seek the information that limned the ley-lines like dew upon a spiderweb.

[Ronan]

Ronan took the man's hand and watched him carefully. Watching the Web? Ronan had heard that many skilled Webbers were born from the Sapphire clan. It was a mystical fragment of the Drykas race. "Want someone to ride with a while?" Sama'el asked. At first, Ronan was unsure. He did things on his own - that was how it had always been. But Sama'el seemed like a kindred spirit, someone else who enjoyed the wilds as much as he did. "I guess that would be all right..." he said carefully. The stranger smiled, and Ronan felt oddly unnerved. He was just about to remount Tairell when he heard a cry. A squawk. Several of them, rising. Undulating. Glassbeaks! Memories of his childhood came flooding back. The day of Darus' funeral. The day when he had rushed into the Grasses alone, and had been chased by one of the deadly birds. He remember running, rushing, flying through the grass. He had been driven by fear. Ronan looked at Sama'el, unsure of what to do. The cries sounded close. Very soon, they would come...

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el's head swung around with surprise. He should have seen glassbeaks upon the Web, but somehow they had sneaked up on him. Clearly he would have to keep at his work with the Web to understand it better, but even now he was seeing the splay of energy around them, and was not yet fully into his body; he could sense their direction and he pointed that direction out for Ronan. "They come," he said, "in numbers. Now would be a good time to retreat. We can't fight them off with just two of us. Retreat," he ordered, and he had authority upon the Sea of Grass as a Watchman in charge of the security of his people, "and I will cover your tail." Dohaina wheeled about and Sama'el's hand clawed up close to his side, a strange sort of dimly glowing energy beginning to coalesce there, yet another Drykas mystery, this one invoked to protect Ronan from the wilds he loved so much. "Ride!"

[Ronan]

Terror gripped Ronan, dark, lucid shadows clawing at his heart. Glassbeaks were viscious, bloodthirsty creatures. And the memories of his last confrontation paralysed him to the spot. "Ride!" Sama'el shouted desperately. Ronan burst into life, climbing onto Tairell with his heart pumping like well greased clockwork. He was just about to gallop off when he felt a dull sensation, like energy pulsing from this man he had only just met. "And you!?" Ronan shouted, Glassbeak cries rising to a cacophony as they neared the nearest brow. "You're going to stay and get yourself killed!?" his hand went to his pocket and he brandished his brother's knot work dagger. No, Sama'el... Even with your Webbing and your magicks, I will stay and fight. If only for the honour of my brothers memory, I will not run! Ronan wheeled Tairell around and faced the coming storm with conviction. This was where he would stand.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Not for the first time Sama'el wished he was older and that his orders carried the weight they should as a Watchman, but a flash of anger at being disobeyed merely intensified the pulse of magic in his hand. He shook his head, calling again. "Ride! I'll slow them down and follow!" He didn't want a pitched battle with gods knew how many glassbeaks, the which would surely kill them, honor and bravery or not. Ronan seemed to have a deathwish, so of course it was Sama'el who had to take responsibility for his safety. He urged Dohaina forward with invisible cues from the muscles in his legs and she shouldered Tairell around. He gazed in the direction of the glassbeaks, trying to gauge their exact locale with the pulses of information he could see on the Web, then lobbed the globe of energy from him, the which burst into flame as it flew. "Now, ride!" he said again, taking Tairell's reins as Dohaina began to move. He wouldn't hurt the horse, but he had to get it moving in tandem with his mare or they would never get out of there, and in the dry of summer, playing with fire on the Sea of Grass was as dangerous as confronting glassbeaks.

[Ronan]

Ronan cried out in anger as Sama'el forced Tairell to windmill round and charge off in the other direction. He was helpless to do anything as he felt a pulse of heated energy cause impact behind them. I'm sorry Darus... As Tairell did the work, he slouched, staring at the ground sullenly. His one chance to be a hero, and he had failed yet again. Glassbeaks... savage murderers of the Grasses. He glanced over at Sama'el. This seemingly powerful Watcher was enigmatic - but he had saved Ronan's life. What was I thinking? Fending off a whole flock with only my dagger...? The man was young, sinewy, but handsome. He had an innocent sort of look, vacant, yet belying the wisdom he clearly held. Ronan wondered how old he was. "I'm sorry," he finally said, looking back up defiantly, "I wasn't thinking straight..."