Changing Scenes

Changing Scenes, Part 1: Introductions

It was very different to transporting between circles. The way Gwion always started by claiming those that travelled with him were under his protection was more than a little unnerving. Rua was glad when the doorway of light finally appeared and Amnor was there on the other side of it. It looked perfectly normal - just as it had before she left only a couple of days ago. Like not a thing was wrong. Then the faces began to appear all around - more than the passes would normally see - even in the old days of constant battle with the Calebii. A warm hand squeezed hers, trying to remind her she didn't have to go through this alone. She stepped onto Amnor and released it.
Hundreds of faces. Amazed. Shocked. Horrified. She searched them all and not finding those she wanted, she ran. Caoimhe was addressing everyone somewhere behind her and she was dimly aware of the black, red, and silver following close on her heels. Ahead was an ever increasing blur of faces and voices until finally one stood out, clearly defined and speaking her name.
"Rua! Thank Heramacles you're safe!" Lugh pulled her into a tight hug. It didn't seem like he would ever let go. When finally his grip loosened enough for her to step back, she looked at him properly and saw it. The utter shock, the fear. That blank expression lost and entirely incapable of understanding how the untakeable could be so easily snatched away.
"I was afraid you'd..." She couldn't finish it. She just hugged him again.
"We'll get it back, Rua. We'll get all of it back."
Typical. Just like Caoimhe and the others. More concerned over that damned citadel than... Footnote was still there. She suddenly felt very awkward as she stepped back out of Lugh's arms. "Where are the children? I heard they were out on some field trip."
Lugh nodded, he too finally noticing the Celestial Knight trying to stay out of the way but close to hand at the same time. He watched him carefully whilst speaking to Rua. "They're fine. Ruairí is around here somewhere. Helping with the building. Bláithín kicked up a fuss and wouldn't come for the drills. She was sent to help look after the children. They're safe. They'll be here soon. Who's your friend?"
Rua turned around to Footnote, afraid almost to look at him, the words he spoke to her earlier that day still ringing in her head. What did he have to tell her that for, anyway? "Lugh, this is Footnote. I told you about him - him and Aldous? He's one of the Celestial Knights from Tamarus." She was going to have to look at him. "Footnote, this is Lugh. My husband."

Changing Scenes, Part 2: Defences

There was little time for thought during the day. Shelters needed to be built at Lough na Phúca for the children and Rua barely had time to hug and reassure hers before they all had to get to work using the few resources they had outside the citadel to build a new town of canvas and wood. It seemed like everyone slept soundly through the night except her. With the two younger children clinging onto her and the twins staying as close as nine year olds could without losing credibility, she could not even move lest she disturb them. There was just too much. How could anyone possibly think this was a defensible position? Light shelters were only good for so long... yet most people were determined to stay - determined for their children to stay. It was going to make it all the more difficult to convince Lugh. Lugh. He'd gone back to the passes to bolster the defences there. She was relieved in a way. He became so much colder after meeting Footnote. But she still had to talk to him. The longer she left it...
Her eyes had only just shut with visions of Avalon - visions of a people reluctant to leave their home but determined to live - when sunlight fell across the island. Another day and no time to linger. Work to do. No sooner had she tended to the children and sent them to their duties, but Footnote was by her side looking very concerned at her. What was there to do but promise she was okay? She had no doubt at all that concern would be justified many times over before they left Amnor. Why waste it on such minor discomforts now?
It was mid afternoon before Lugh returned. Ruairí pestered him to let him go back to the passes with him but Lugh reminded him of the importance of taking care of his family and the other families at the Lough and sent him back to work. There was something both amazing and frightening about how she suddenly felt Footnote's distance from her.
Lugh came, handing her a mug of water. "You should take a break. You look exhausted. Did you sleep?"
She shook her head as they moved away from the building towards the lake. "I can't believe this is really happening."
Lugh looked back at the work, surveying it with an appraising look. Only the slightest narrowing of the eyes as his gaze passed over where Footnote was working hard. Enough for Rua to notice. There was no way this was going to be easy. Lugh rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's starting to look better. The shelters are going up fast."
She shrugged. "It'll do for a time but it's no home."
"We'll have our home back soon."
So much certainty. So much damned bloodymindedness. "Everyone seems so sure of that."
They found a stack of light wood and sat, facing out over the lake. "It's our home, Rua. Of course we'll get it back."
She drank. It was difficult - the knot in her stomach tightening. There had to be a way to say it. "And if we don't? If winter comes and we're still living in wooden huts with no food stores? If the Conclave decide they want the whole island? If the Empire decide to get rid of us now while we're prone? This is foolishness."
Lugh was somewhat taken aback. He frowned at her, trying to figure what was going on in her head. "What would you have us do, Rua? Run away? Give it up without a fight?"
Rua forced one more gulp of water, then put the mug down. It had to be done. "Yes. While we're still alive to do so."
He blinked. Then waved his hand dismissively. Probably assuming she was tired and not thinking straight. "Don't be stupid. We didn't fight all these generations to walk away now."
"No, we fought all these generations for our freedom - so our children would have a chance to lead normal and full lives. This..." She turned behind them, letting the arc of her hand take in the tents and wooden lean-tos. "This isn't normal, Lugh."
"What are you saying?" There was a definite warning in his voice. He knew exactly what she was saying.
"It's not safe for them here."
"No." He stood, looking down on her. "Forget it, Rua. They are not leaving."
Rua was quick to her feet. "You can't deny how dangerous it is to stay, Lugh! And look at this. Is this really where you want them growing up?"
"We'll get it back!" he said, his eyes starting to burn into her.
"No we won't! Not any time soon - they're inside now. The 'most indefensible fortress in Erdreja' and they're inside and we're not! We kept the Calebii out for centuries and we had nowhere near the power of what's inside it now!" Rua was dimly aware of their voices raising but really didn't care right now. He had to be made see how foolish it was to hold out here. Suicidal to let the children stay.
He folded his arms, heels well dug in as he used his height to loom over her. "We'll find a way. Have you so little faith in your own people?"
"Oh I've every faith in their blindness. We spent so long defending those walls we forget it was what's inside we were protecting. Well we're not inside anymore and there's other places we can go now too."
"And where? Where would you have us go?"
Here it was. "The Lions have offered to evacuate everyone to Rysarius."
"Not going to happen."
"The Celestial Knights have offered me a home on Tamarus."
That phased him. He couldn't help but look behind. "I'll bet they have."
"And I'm going to accept."
His arms remained folded but Rua could see the knuckles whitening - the control he was forcing upon himself. "I'm sure the children will miss you terribly."
"They're coming with me. And you should too."
He actually laughed at that. "I doubt very much I was included in that offer, Rua."
Now that was just daft. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course you were!"
He quickly gripped her arm, pulling her back down to their seat. His voice dropped too but there was a new edge to it - bitter and sharp. "What kind of fool do you take me for? Do you think I haven't noticed?"
"Noticed what? What are you talking about?" she replied without thinking. It made him all the angrier, the grip he still had on her tightening.
"If you think I'm just going to stand by and let that thing take my wife and children away, you're as stupid as he is."
It still took her a moment to register just what it was he meant. What thing? What... Footnote. Dammit. "He's my friend. He's not some 'thing' and that's absolutely not what he wants."
Lugh laughed sarcastically without the faintest trace of humour. "And what does he want?"
"What any friend wants -to make sure I'm safe - to be there when I need him!"
He stared at her in disbelief. "Tell me you're not that stupid. I've seen the way he looks at you and I'm telling you, that's not all he wants."
Rua sighed, already knowing there was no way to convince him of the truth but she had to try. "It's not like that, Lugh. He's Fey - these things work different for them. He told me. He just wants to protect me - much like I feel a certain responsibility for him and Aldous since what happened last year!"
"Ah yes, the last time you thought our children would be better off elsewhere and you handed them straight to Benedict!"
Rua froze. She couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe he'd just - so callously! She was stunned, and maybe she saw that same shock in his eyes too but the fire inside burned. All the exhaustion, all the anger, all the tears of the last few days... "I can't believe you just said that." It sounded so calm. It was anything but.
Lugh's grip melted away from her. Despite his bulk he was beginning to look very small. His eyes darted as if desperately trying to find a way to take it back. But there was no going back. He had no choice but to go forward. "Well... I can't believe you're still so naïve you can't see the blatantly obvious!"
She was starting to shake. She'd felt this once before but there was no window to release it on this time. "I can see it all too well. You should leave me alone now."
"Rua..." His hand tried to reach for her but she pushed it away, rising to her feet and her voice rising with her.
"Leave me alone! It's what you're good at! So go! Just go!"
He looked at her for maybe half a second before making the best decision he could. Lugh got to his feet, threw an exasperated hand to the air, and stormed away back towards the passes. She caught a glimpse of the many startled faces amongst the workers for only a moment before dashing the mug to the stony lakeside and sitting back on the woodpile. The shaking grew worse. She thought it might take a long time to subside.

Changing Scenes, part 3: Shelter

One by one, everything was thrown onto the blanket. First the longsword, the hammer, and the scrollcases. The bottles of ink and the pens went next, and then, after a moment's hesitation, the battered tabard. Rolling the whole arrangement up into a bundle, tied with a couple of old belts, Footnote straightened up. He slung the package over his shoulders and headed down into the passes. Looking around all the faces brought back memories of Avalon, clearer than he'd ever imagined.

What threw everything into such sharp contrast was the shock and disbelief on so many of the faces. Every time he closed his eyes, somehow he wasn't standing on Amnor, but back in Avalon, looking at all the people streaming from Claw Keep. The screams echoed up again. Look to the cellars! Nosta Ka! Tunnels in the cellars! Shivering, he pulled his hat down further onto his head and found a small knot of the refugees putting up some makeshift tents.

"You'll never get those things pitched here - the ground's not even. The wind'll take them just as soon as it gusts. Here, let me help." Somehow, doing something menial - anything really - seemed to help him focus, but the voice in his head still nagged him. Why did you do it? Damned fool fey. You think you're here to help these people? You're just here because she's here! He rests his head on his hands, trying to silence the nagging doubts. Maybe this isn't how a knight should act. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Maybe this is all a mistake and I shouldn't be here, but I'm just mortal, like everyone else. And I do love her. If I act out of love, is it still wrong?

In the early evening, he was found by a group of children, daggers belted to their waists, sitting as he watched the sun dip below the horizon and watching for the first stars of the night. They stared at him with open curiosity. "I'm watching for Celestial. Sometimes, if you catch the very first star as it rises in the sky, you can feel him all around you." He smiled at them. "Don't you ever just sit and watch the stars? Sometimes, when I lie back at night, I'd swear that they're all looking back down at us." And a little advice wouldn't hurt right about now, he thought, but there was no reply.

As the sun set, the children sat and watched it. With a strange mixture of feelings, he started telling stories about the Lions - their history and their future, digging up fragments of songs that had been sung round campfires on their various exploits - Lions' Pride, No Lion Stands Alone, Stones In The Road. Somehow everything seemed a little melancholy; even the songs that had never failed to rouse spirits seemed somehow less uplifting than before. Maybe it was because there wasn't anyone else singing them with him.

Work continued through the night - as a strange mixture of shanty town and fortified camp slowly rose from the plains. At least there was plenty of food, and it didn't look like the Emperor was going to simply wipe the defenders of Armengar out just yet. Of course, he could well play the merciful politician now - he could justly attack the fortress to remove the threat of the Conclave without so many political repercussions. A picture rose in Footnote's mind of Joshrim nodding sadly at the Lions' diplomats, commiserating them on the losses, before turning away with a hidden smile of satisfaction. Smug bastard. This is just what you wanted, isn't it?

There wasn't much chance of sleeping anyway - not tonight. Everything - the sights, sounds, even the smells of the refugee camp - brought back the flight from Avalon with crystal clarity. So he worked, nailing canvas roofs onto wooden frames, sorting woodpiles for the communal cooking fires, digging the extensive toilet trenches. So much work to do, in such a short time. The rhythm was strangely relaxing in a way, so he barely noticed the sun rising until pink clouds stretched up over the sky. Several Armengarians were still working with him. He glanced over to them. One of the men - he'd never asked his name - tied his hair back out of his eyes. "Do I look as bad as I feel?" he asked.

"You look about as bad as I feel," Footnote replied, trying to force some cheer into the morning. "But I feel pretty bad," he conceded.

"Well, you look terrible," the man smiled. "Come on, let's try and get something to eat. We can't keep at this all day without something."

A hurried breakfast followed - just bread and salted meat, washed down with water, but the rest did everyone some good. As everyone hurried back to work Footnote headed quietly to where Rua and her family were resting. The children were only just stirring, all sleeping in one great bundle of arms and legs. He looked at Rua's reddened eyes, wishing that there was something he could do other than try and be around in case he was needed. Hoping he was making a difference for the better rather than the worse. "Are you... coping?" It just seemed stupid to ask if everything was alright.

Rua smiled tiredly. "I'm fine." They left it at that. The next few days would be much more trying than yesterday, as people started to come to terms with the fact that there really was no way home.

"If you think I'm going to let that thing take my wife and children away!" - "These things work different for them... He told me!" - "You handed them straight over to Benedict!" - "Just go!"

Footnote stood frozen as a statue. Heart pounding, the shouted conversation he'd just heard echoed in his head again. Slowly he opened his eyes, and the mix of emotions slowly crystallised as a cold, hard feeling in his guts. He'd caused this, by his own foolishness, by a stupid belief that he could make everything alright. What had he done? Rua and Lugh were husband and wife for many years, and now they were at each others' throats, and he was the cause of this. No. Not quite the cause. The catalyst, perhaps, but the two of them were just too different in so many ways: Lugh seemed obsessed with the idea that getting things back the way they had always been would somehow make life better, and Rua - well, Rua looked to the future and all the changes it held. Even framing it like that didn't make him feel any better. Quite the contrary, in fact.

As he sat back with his head in his hands, he levelled silent curses at all the ancestors he could think of, and then a few that he made up on the spot. Halfway down the list he stopped and looked up towards the cloudy sky as a voice seemed to float across the gentle breeze. That's not really doing anyone any good. Slow down, old boy. Take a deep breath, and do something. Do what's right. Footnote looked puzzled for a moment, and shook his head. Had he imagined the voice? Still, imaginary or not, he couldn't ignore it for long. He knelt on the grass, closed his eyes and started breathing slowly and deeply. Gradually his thoughts cleared, and there seemed to be only one path for him to take.

Quietly, he slipped around the lakeside. (Strange how all those little things came back so quickly - the way he used to move quietly around the forests before he met the Knights. These days he always seemed to have some sort of bodyguard tramping around.) There she was, sitting on the logpile he'd stacked earlier that morning, shoulders hunched and shivering. Hardly daring to breathe, and shaking himself, he gently touched her hand. "Rua - I'm sorry..." but the words stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry," he tried again. "For everything."

Changing Scenes, part 4: Apologies

Rua's hand was in Footnote's before she fully realised he was there. She couldn't look at him through the blur of tears so instead tried to focus on the reeds and stones along the bank of the lough. "Do you know when he left me? When he told me I could either give up the rituals and ever seeing my friends again or lose him? The day I came back from the moot last year. Right after we saw Holy Isle. He blamed me for it - and still does."
With a small gulp to hold back the tears, she looked up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you into all this. It was... selfish of me."
Footnote knelt down in front of Rua. "Please, don't be sorry. You never dragged me anywhere. I chose to go, and I chose to come here. I have no regrets about coming with you - you must know that. I just want - well, I want to try and make things better somehow. I'm not sure how to do it, but I promise you I will do whatever I can."
He paused for a moment. "Please, stop me if this isn't my place to ask, but... what happened between you and Lugh? Are you sure he blames you for everything? Sometimes people need a target for their anger, and so often that target is someone dear to them. Like I said though, it might not be my place." He smiled sadly. "I'm not helping much, am I?"
"It seems most of my friends are not Armengarian these days. Even Cosaint doesn't talk to me much anymore." She squeezed the hand she was still holding onto. "You do help. I'm glad you're here, I just... I wish you didn't have to hear that or anything else you'll hear before we can get out of here. It's not fair."
She let go with a sigh and folded her arms on her knees. "I don't know what happened. When I first started learning ritual magic he was happy for me. He encouraged it. Back then if he had told me not to, I would have walked away from it. I'd have done anything he said. That sounds bad. It's not that he controlled me and I never had a say or anything, just that we were so happy together - we were united on everything.
"But the Lions found us, the Calebii were defeated, and everything changed. Some people couldn't get out of the soldier mentality and others were only too happy to never have to fight - and kill - again. I found something else to do." She held her face in her hands for just a short moment, then continued.
"As I got better at it, outgrew Simon's lessons and had to spend more time with Samuel and Lemming, as I spent more time off the island... things just got worse between us. Maybe he doesn't blame me but he definitely blames the Lions for taking me away and all that followed because of it. And still I don't know how it turned so bitter. I still don't believe how he could have given me such an ultimatum and I really don't understand how I could have not chosen him. I'm forced to admit we're not the same people anymore. He's right - the Lions have changed me. We just disagree on whether or not it's for the better." She looked up at Footnote half-expectantly - though not quite sure what to expect.
"I'm probably not the best person to say how you've changed, given that I've only known you for a couple of years, I can only tell you about what you're like now. You're a hero. Or a heroine, if you'd prefer. I've never seen you act for your own interest, and you throw yourself into danger just to help people, even those you barely know. I don't know many people who would be willing to do that."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "The people of Amnor have fought for so many years to keep things stable, and to stop things from changing. Maybe some of them just fear any changes now. And with everything that's happened over the last two years, I couldn't blame them, but I do feel sorry for anyone who feels that way. But if the world always stayed the same, then there's no way that any of us could make a difference, and that is what living is about. If we're making a difference for people, that's how we tell we're doing the right thing. And you've made a great difference to a great number of people.
"Don't give up hope though. The Armengarians will realise that staying here is a bad plan. They have enough tacticians for that, I hope. They'll plan and scheme and plan, and eventually they'll realise that Armengar isn't a fortress, or an island, but a people. I was born in Cymrya, I stayed in Avalon and I live on Tamarus, but my home is wherever you, Robin, Aldous and the rest of my friends are."
Rua considered his words for a moment until finally she shook her head. "Used to be home was where Lugh and the children were. And I still need my children around me but.... is it really horrible of me that I'm happier when I'm not on Amnor?"
"I don't think so. Before the Calebii were defeated, the Armengarians didn't know anything outside of the fortress. Since then - well, since then the whole world has opened up", replied Footnote.
"How do I make him see that, though? I understand why he wants to stay - I wouldn't expect anything else - but how can he want the children to grow up in all this? There's so much more for them out there!" She looked at him, knowing he had no answers either. How would he? What could he know of these things?
"I don't know. Would he ever go with you? Would he make the journey to Lantia, even just to see it?"
If only it were so simple... "He's been. To Tamarus actually when we were waiting for Benedict to send the children back in Sister Bethanie's place. And to Holy Isle once before that all happened." She shuddered slightly, remembering it all too clearly. "That didn't go too well."
There was the smallest nod of understanding. "I think I can see why he might think ill of us then. I wish I could convince him otherwise, but I don't think he's quite in the mind to listen to me. Do you think he'll really try and make the children stay? Even given the danger?"
Rua looked up to the sky hoping for an answer from there but not really expecting one. "I don't know anymore. I'd hope he'd put their safety before his anger at me but... I guess he's afraid they won't come back this time."
"And offering the protection of the Knights is hardly going to help. Is there anywhere else they could go? I hear Archon is very nice right now, and I'm sure the Wild Geese would love Ruairí." He smiled a little.
The Knights protection should have helped but Rua knew too well... dammit anyway. "I don't think it matters where I say we'll go." She mustered up some small measure of pride and added, "And I doubt the Wild Geese would be able to handle my Ruairí."
Footnote suddenly smacked a palm against one of the trees in frustration. "I can't believe they put so little value on life!" Shaking his head... "I'm sorry. I just can't believe that anyone could order people to stay so undefended in enemy lands. Maybe that's why I'm not a general."
So many times she'd felt the same frustration yet part of her was immediately leaping to her people's defence before she could stop it. "Right now everyone is still too angry to think it through straight. They want to strike back and are certainly not inclined to just run away - that's how they see it. Time may change that. I can only hope it's before we get wiped out."
"I hope so. Maybe if they spend long enough thinking out a plan they'll realise how dangerous this venture is. Still, I think they should be safe enough for now - the Conclave are happy sitting where they are, and I don't think the Empire will attack here, for political reasons if nothing else. It's not really very reassuring, but it gives me some hope."
Rua stood, looking towards where the citadel loomed in the distance. "That there is my home. Up until a few years ago it was all I knew. And now? I see it for what it really is. A prison and a curse. First the Calebii, then the Unliving hoards Joshrim conveniently forgets about, then the legions... and now this." She turned back to Footnote. "When does it end? When is it ever enough? What did our people do that was so wrong we deserve all this?"
"No one deserves this. But there aren't many people in this world who get what they deserve." Footnote looked over the water. "I could sit here and tell you that everything will be fine. I wish I could. I wish I could just look you in the eyes and say everything will get better from here. But I can't. I can't tell you that lie. This island is part of a war that could tear Erdreja apart, and we're in the way. We've seen the Emperor fighting, and we've seen the Conclave. For whatever reason, they've chosen Armengar as their battlefield, and I just can't see what we can do to get in their way without wasting countless lives. But whatever happens, we will be with you all the way. Whatever it takes. I just wish it could be otherwise."
"But why? Weren't the Calebii enough? One year of peace - was that all we earned with generations of blood on the battlefield?"
"Rua... I don't know. I've been... since I joined the Lions I've been fighting one battle or another for five and a half years. Every time we beat one foe down, it seem that two more spring up in his place. I couldn't believe it then, and I find it hard to accept now, but I will have to believe that even one day's peace is worth the struggle. "He sighed. "All I have now is the faith that one day it will be over, and we will know peace."
She shook her head. "I don't believe that anymore. There is nowhere safe to bring the children. Just some places that are less dangerous."
"You're right. There is nowhere completely safe. There are always people who try to hurt the innocent for their own gain. There is no inescapable prison, there is no immovable object, there is no fortress that cannot be taken. But there are those who will give their all to defend them. You and I know many people like that. This world isn't all evil."
With a deep sigh she nodded. "I know. I've seen it. And usually it's enough hope to keep me going... just some days I get so tired and I feel so old and worn down by it all."
He hugged her close. "You know I'll always be here when you're running short on hope. And stop calling yourself old, youngling." And with a smile... "You can tell me you're old when you hit eighty, until then you'll just be a young slip of a lass. Seriously though, did you sleep at all last night?"
The vague beginnings of a smile turned her lip up as she pretended to be more indignant than she really was. "Youngling? By Armengar standards I am old. Another few years and I could be a grandmother!" All too fast the smile slipped away. "I've too much in my head to sleep but it helped to have the children close."
"It looked like it. Promise you won't work too hard today? You can't have stopped for the last few days, and I know I'm feeling the worse for wear. I know the dreams are bad, but the rest will do you good."
She nodded. "I'll try. Thank you. In some small tiny way I'm almost glad of what Benedict did. I really don't know if I could have got through the last year without the friendship I've received from you and Aldous because of it. I'm so glad you're here, I just... I really am sorry it's not the most pleasant visit you're ever likely to have on Amnor."
"It's strange, isn't it. Benedict's done so much evil and so much to harm us, but I do almost feel like thanking him for that reception on Holy Isle. I don't think I'd finish the sentence though, he doesn't seem to like me very much. It might not have been under the best of circumstances, but I am very glad I met you. And, to be honest, no matter what happens this time, I think this visit to Amnor will probably be much more pleasant than my last one."
Rua smiled with an old enthusiasm and pride. "I'd love you to see it properly some day - without enemies forces trampling all over it." If that day might ever come. She closed her eyes a second. "My circle... it's funny how when you attune to a circle you never realise how much it's going to tear you up inside when it is damaged. Yet another reason I can't sleep. The pain only gets worse when I try."
"I'd like that. I've never really seen much outside of the fortress myself. Other than this lake, of course." He paused a moment, then asked, "Which circle is it you're attuned to? I thought it was the one on Tamarus?"
"That too." Her smile took on a distinct mischievous look. "I know I'm not supposed to but I'm attuned to both." The smile was soon replaced with a wistful look towards the citadel. "Well, just Tamarus now. Quartz is... circles aren't supposed to be used for that. I'm losing it. And while it means the physical pain is lessening, there's a whole other type." It wasn't easy keeping the shake out of her voice as she spoke of it. She hadn't spoken of it before now. Still didn't know what to make of it. Like part of her was simply torn away. Again.
"I can't even guess at it. You're not going the way of Lemming are you? Trying to break every ritual record in the book? Next you'll be telling me you want to be the first ritualist to ever manage three rituals in one day. I'll have to stop you if you try that, you know. I like you being alive!"
For the briefest of moments her defences went up - was he serious? Was he really going to start trying to tell her how to conduct her duties? Then a look in his eyes told her. He was a friend and there was nothing to worry about. She smiled back. "'The way of Lemming'? Don't you know we work together these days? That's what the LRC is all about - breaking every rule of rituals we can find." The smile broadened to a grin.
"Hah! At last - that was a proper smile! Don't even try denying it, it's far too late, I saw it."
"I can't even pretend it's just something I ate?", she responded as the grin remained. Oh but it was nice to just... play.
"You can try... but you know I wouldn't believe you. Nope, sorry." He smiled back at her broadly.
Rua hugged him suddenly, as if afraid he might disappear if she didn't hold on. "I really am glad you're here."
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
She didn't want to let go. There was such warmth in his touch, in his words, in the way he looked at her. It was frightening how much she missed it and... she had to let go. Now. This wasn't going to help - not in what really mattered. She shouldn't be... Rua stepped back awkwardly. Thankfully she didn't have to think of what to say as Bláithín was standing there looking very displeased.
"Mammy, Caoimhe said you're to go for a meeting. She said it's now." Bláithín then turned to Footnote. "They still need help with the shelters." The distrust was plain.
Rua muttered a few words she couldn't remember to Footnote and went to find Caoimhe, all the time thinking, it just isn't fair.

Changing Scenes, part 5: Passing

The days continued to be long. Rua worked as hard as she could, trying to distract herself from all that happened. Trying not to think about Lugh. Trying not to think about Footnote. That was proving particularly difficult when every time she felt her strength ebbing away, he was there. How did he always know? Akamon seemed so long ago now despite it being not yet a week. So many things she still needed to do. Samuel. She didn't want to think about him either.
The ships had arrived the evening before and some people - not enough people, were making their way to the port and then Rysarius. Whenever she could over the last couple of days, she had spoken with the mothers of young children, encouraging them to leave. No doubt she would have her wrist slapped for it by those more intent on sacrificing all their lives over some misconstrued sense of glory, but if she got even one family to see sense then it was worth it. And all the time she was practising. Lugh was going to be much more difficult to convince.
It was time to go to the passes and try again. She hadn't seen Lugh since... she didn't want to think about it. She remembered the words with perfect clarity and the chill they sent down her spine was just as real as the first time. How did things go so far wrong between them? Didn't she try hard enough?
It didn't take long to find him. Mostly because he saw her approach and met her before she got to the passes. So much the better. She really didn't want to go into those passes today and it was no place to talk about what they needed to talk about. He looked bone-weary. Dirty from the effort of reinforcing the passes and several days growth to his beard. Underneath it all was the boy she fell in love with. It was just so hard to see him sometimes.
He stopped two steps away from her. "I'm glad you're here."
"Lugh, we need to talk about this." It took all the strength she could muster to bring herself to look at him long enough to notice the remorse when he looked back at her.
"I know. Rua, I'm sorry. I should never have said what I said. I don't know why I said it." The apology was genuine. Clearly it had eaten at him as much as it had her. Didn't they love each other enough? "You said it because you wanted to hurt me. Like I've hurt you."
He nodded slowly, more out of resignation than any wish to admit he agreed with her. "Maybe. I never thought this could happen to us. Not us."
She looked around for somewhere more private to continue but found little choice. It was a typical Summer's day on Amnor so without even a cloak to lie on the ground, they sat behind a small mound of earth facing away from the pass.
Rua touched his hand briefly. "Nor I. I don't want to fight with you. Why do we always end up fighting?"
Lugh's smile was a sad one. "It's the Armengar way."
Her hands clenched reflexively. She'd heard that one too many times. "It doesn't have to be. Not any more. Why can't people see that?"
It was amazing how fast those frown wrinkled could form. "Because after all we've been through to hold onto our home, we're not about to give up now. If it takes a fight, well that's what we're good at."
"Defensively, yes. But this isn't the same. They're defending now. And Lugh - we saw Conclave agents and the Empire together at the moot. If they're working together... they're not going to suffer us on this island for very long. Please - let me take the children somewhere safe."
Now his hands clenched over handfuls of grass and dirt. "I should have known. They're safe here. I'm not going to let anything happen to them. I'd die first."
"That's what I'm afraid of." She said it so fast... it couldn't be anything but the truth. Lugh noticed it too and held her gaze for just a moment. Then everything else caught up with the moment, all his anger and frustration unresolved over the last few years - all the reasons she wasn't going to get what she wanted. "Caoimhe wouldn't leave her son her if she didn't think it was safe."
She wanted to scream. Wanted to shake him - and all the others - make them see what fools they were being! "Caoimhe's gambling her son's life to make sure people believe that so they can foolishly gamble their children too! I will not leave them here. Even if there isn't an attack, makeshift shelters and tents are no place to grow up!"
Anger fed anger, frustration fed frustration... "They'll grow up defending their home like we did!"
Fear, loss, desperation... "And they'll die defending it like our parents did!"
Never to wane. "Then they'll die with honour and dignity knowing they didn't run away when Armengar needed them most!"
Rua shook her head, already knowing they would once more get nowhere. "And Armengar will die with no one left to remember her."
Lugh looked equally lost, just as unable to reach her as she was him. "I don't care how we're remembered. We'll do what we have to do and if the children don't know that already, it's about time they learnt."
"If that's to be their last lesson, I don't care for it. I'd rather see them grow up. There's so much more for them to do and see - they can be whatever they want now! I won't waste that!"
"Enough." Lugh stood. "You can do whatever you want, Rua. I'm long past trying to talk sense into you. But you are not bringing my children with you."
She stood too. "I'm not leaving them here."
They stared at one another a long moment, neither about to give in. Finally Lugh threw his hands to the air. "You're never here for them anyway! They'd only get in the way of your precious rituals."
And that was it. No more concern for raised voices, the situation was out of control, the battle lost on both sides, nothing left but to make the other side suffer. "That's not true! I'm with them whenever I can be and they understand that I have other duties too! They actually support me rather than issuing ultimatums!"
"I'm trying to help you - you're just too obsessed to notice."
"That's as ridiculous now as the first time you said it."
"Is it? Do you really think I don't know what goes on out there? Did you think I wouldn't find out that your dear friend Lemming put some sort of possession into you?!"
That threw her. How could he have known about that? It wasn't the first time either. Someone was talking to him. "There's no harm in it, Lugh. He did it to give me some extra protection and it wasn't against my will."
"Convenient, the number of people wanting to protect you all of a sudden."
"There's nothing sudden about it. They're my friends." Why was that so difficult for him to understand? There was a time he would have been happy to know someone was looking out for her when he couldn't.
"I heard about Samuel too." Rua's breath caught in her throat. Lugh's eyes narrowed. "Worked out what it means. Why you're so eager to go back. You just can't wait, can you? High Ritualist of Armengar was never enough for you."
She froze. Damn him. It used to be he knew just what to say to make her believe everything would be alright. Now... he still knew exactly what to say. She wanted to run away - she wanted to scream back at him - wanted to say something just as hurtful - wanted to beg him to stop looking at her that way. Didn't they do everything Armengar wanted of them? Enough. He wasn't allowed do this anymore.
"How dare you - after all our years together how could you ever think that of me? More than anything else, Samuel was my friend and I miss him terribly. I don't care about damned titles."
He spoke just as curtly. "Prove it. Don't go back."
Rua shook her head. "I don't have to prove anything to you anymore. You don't seem to get it, Lugh. You left me when I needed you most but I got through it and you can't stand that, can you? So you don't get to do this anymore. You don't get to tell me how I should live or who my friends should be. And you don't get to use the children to punish me for your mistakes."
"And you do not get to take my children away from me!" He grabbed her by the arm, not caring how tight his grip could be - "I swear, Rua - if even one of them sets foot on those ships I'll do whatever it takes to stop you. You're the one using them to punish me for having the guts to leave you when you crossed the line! You're the one tearing our family apart! Not anymore! You and your Fey can go wherever you want - I'm sure it won't be long before he sees you for who you've become - he'll leave you too, just like your precious Cosaint - but you are not, absolutely not dragging the children down with you."
Was it his grip or the words that were more painful? Right now it didn't matter. "Don't threaten me. I've warned you before about that."
He scoffed at her as he let her go. "The circle's gone, Rua. What are you without it?"
She stopped. What was she without it? Lugh smiled at her, certain as he was of his victory. He shook his head then and started to move away...
"Their mother. With no distraction."
Lugh's steps faltered briefly, but he continued to walk away. Only now the set of his shoulders was a little less certain.

Changing Scenes, part 6: Concentration

A figure knelt hunched over on the bank of the lough, waiting for the quiet calm of meditation. Perhaps it was the noise and bustle of the shanty town that kept him from concentrating, or perhaps it was the patrols of scouts that still roamed from the passes up to the woods. Or perhaps it was none of these, but whatever it was, he couldn't concentrate on those exercises today. Muttering a short prayer to Celestial, he rose, a bitter taste in his mouth. In all the years he'd been a knight, he'd never lost his focus like this, not since he'd been a squire.
Footnote took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly with each one, remembering lessons taught to him years ago, that he would now teach to his squires in the order of Thought. "Look around you. Look at all the people on Erdreja. Now look at what they learn. They learn that no matter what happens, evil is always there - the thing in the night that carries off babies, the Unliving that rise from the earth to kill the living. They learn that evil gives you power, and then we wonder why there is always more evil emerging. That is where you come in. Many people fight this evil, that I cannot deny. But there are not enough of them who do so visibly. By wearing the tabard, you are making a grave choice. Wearing this tabard means you no longer have the choice to stand by and watch. You accept the duty - not only to fight the good fight, but to teach other people that it is better to die fighting evil than to let it stand."

The only problems arose when you didn't know what was evil or not. I stand: heaven on my right, hell on my left, and the angel of death close behind. Where had he heard that? The quotation rose unbidden in his mind. Not entirely accurate, but it did seem to reflect the choices facing him. One way is the right path, one way is the wrong, and I have not many hours with which to choose between the two. It occurred to him that perhaps this was one occasion where the comforting black-and-white of heroic storied slowly faded to shades of murky grey, where every decision took you deeper into a maze of problems until you were lost.

But that was no excuse for indecision. If he could just think clearly and sensibly for just one moment! But every time he closed his eyes, a blue-eyed face filled his mind again.
Stop thinking about it, he chided himself. It can't work. She's human - and you're not. The thought rattled around further. You live two different life spans - two different lives. No matter what you feel, no matter how much you want to believe, it's not worth the pain you've already caused.
Another small inner voice spoke up, So what should I do, then? Just leave on the next ship?
Sounds like a good idea. The only thing you'll achieve by sticking around here is to break her marriage beyond all repair, if you haven't already. Look at the children, for pity's sake. Can't you see what they're going though, or are you blind as well as stupid?
But -
Rua can take care of herself, you know. She's no fool, and she's tougher than she looks
. No. You might be right. It might be best to just turn around, walk away. But I can't. It would be wrong. I can't love her like Lugh should, but I can be there when she needs someone. Running away would be one of the worst things I've ever done.
Would it? Are you sure?
He raised his eyes to the sky, hoping that some inspiration would strike. It took some time to arrive, but eventually he reached a conclusion. He smiled ruefully and tried to understand why he hadn't seen it before. Maybe because he really hadn't wanted to see it. He'd hoped that by not getting involved, he could avoid this fight, but he was already involved, just by being here.
Mind made up, he walked back up the path to the tent where he stayed. Unrolling the blanket that everything was tied up in, he quickly unfolded the pile of clothes. He slipped on the leather jerkin and pulled the scarlet and black tabard over the top. It was a strangely comforting feeling, feeling that his mind was more at rest than it had been for days. He looked at the old sword, still lying in the blanket, picked it up for a moment before throwing it down again. If he ever needed that while on Amnor, things were already lost.
What was he? Some fey who'd spent too long around humans and been caught up with the way their feelings worked? Perhaps. Something more than that? Who knows. But there's no point in trying to shut the gate when the ghouls are already through it. He had experienced more emotion in the last five years than ever before in his life. The cold knot of fear - for himself and his friends; the incomparable feeling of friendship for so many people; he'd felt the tug of grief as he saw friends fall; and now this, something beyond all of them. It was a feeling so strong that it frightened him, not because he was afraid of the way he felt, but he feared for the consequences. Painfully aware that whatever he said could have drastic consequences, he walked back towards Lough na Phúca.

Changing Scenes, part 7: Certainty

Not good enough! How could it possibly be good enough? In exasperation, Fian threw down the makeshift tongs she had been using. They broke apart on impact with the stoney ground. It had seemed like a sensible idea, when Cormac came to her and the other trainers with his idea to practice a full retreat from the passes. A little unusual to take practically everyone from the citadel to do it, but Cormac assured them it was wisest to have everyone familiar with the procedure. They'd all be defending the passes if it came to an attack, afterall. Now - how stupid of them - and how damned lucky no more of them were dead.
So what remained? Encampments at the passes, and the plateau, and Lough Na Phúca. Forces spread apart - spread too thin in her opinion. Arguments over whether to stay or leave and no good options. And she had a smithy to build out of rocks and branches and the few odd tools they could gather from the farmlands. It was never going to be good enough.
Fian had only just resigned herself to trying again and picking up the charred sticks to redo their binding when the canvas door was pushed aside and Saoirse stepped inside. "Fian? Are you busy?"
Fian couldn't help but notice the worry etched on Saoirse's face. Not that she was alone in it. "Come in, Saoirse. I could do with a break", she said as she pulled the binding back tight and laid the tongs down. It was no lie.
"It's strange to see so many tents down here. Used to be no one but the best of our scouts even knew where this lough was." Saoirse pulled over a wooden crate to where Fian had set up her small table and chair.
"How are you getting on? How's Griana?" Fian asked as she poured some water into two mugs and handed one to her.
Saoirse sighed. "Griana's not too fond of me at the moment."
"Oh?"
Saoirse looked up at her friend. "I'm taking her away from here. We're going to Rysarius with the next ship."
Fian sat. It wasn't that she hadn't expecting this, just that now it was real. "It's the best thing for her. For both of you."
"I know. So why does it feel like I'm running away?"
Fian smiled sympathetically. "We've fought a long time for this place. It's hard to believe how it was so easily taken from us. Near impossible to believe we might never get it back. None of us want to turn our backs on it - even if it is the right thing to do."
Saoirse nodded thoughtfully. "I know. I don't want to believe that we can't win if we just hang on long enough - but the truth of the matter is we can be wiped out by either force at any time of their choosing and there's nothing we can do about it."
"But Griana doesn't understand."
"No." Saoirse shook her head. "Fiach and Bláithín are staying so she doesn't see why she has to go."
Fian frowned at that. "I would expect Caoimhe to keep her son here, but Bláithín? This is Rua's Bláithín, isn't it?"
"Yes. And from what I understand, Rua wants to leave, she's just having trouble convincing her husband."
Fian rubbed her head. Dammit. Thus far she had stayed out of affairs between Eibhlín's daughter and her husband but now it was putting the children at risk and her promise to Eibhlín undoubtedly extended to her grandchildren. If they didn't sort themselves out by the time the ships sailed, she was going to have to interfere for the second time. "Lugh won't leave and he doesn't want them taken off island either."
"From what I hear he has reason not too. Have you seen the Fey she showed up with? He checks on her an awful lot if you know what I mean."
"No, I haven't seen him." Damn but she was going to have to start paying attention. Just not right now. Saoirse didn't come to talk about Rua's problems. "Try not to worry, Saoirse. Griana will come round. She knows you love her and you're doing the best you can for her."
"I don't know, Fian. What if this is just an excuse?"
Fian frowned at that too. "An excuse for what?"
"Well... I've been thinking. I mean it's been over a year and we still have no idea where that letter is or who might know. Griana's getting older every day and sooner or later... I've been thinking if I can't tell her the truth then it's best she finish growing up somewhere else. Where it doesn't matter."
Fian looked at her friend carefully. "Where you don't have to tell her anything."
That prompted Saoirse to sit forward. "Well no! I don't have the information I would need to tell her the whole truth so why distress her with a little of it. She's happy, Fian. She knows who she is and where she comes from. Why ruin that for her when there's no need?"
"Because secrets have a way of getting out. If that were to happen... well she's your daughter, Saoirse. It's your decision. Just make sure you've thought it through."
Saoirse sighed deeply. "I can think of nothing else. Well, until this all started." Her hand took in the makeshift smithy making it very clear what 'this' she was referring to.
"You're doing the right thing. This is no place for children."
"It's no place for any of us." It was a very pointed remark.
Fian smiled. "You're right again. But it is also home. Some of us have nowhere else to go."
"But everyone is welcome on-"
Fian held up her hand. "The Lions have been very generous and understanding. But this is our home. It has protected us since we first arrived. There may be little we can do to defend it in return, but we owe it that much."
"But-"
"And we owe it the continuation of our people. I wish more of those with young children had your sense to leave. If Caoimhe would consider things with reason instead of anger for one moment she might see that and make them leave. But perhaps that is hoping too much."
Saoirse bit her lip. "I wish you would come with us. We'll miss you so much."
"I'm needed here. Somehow I'll get this place able to produce weapons again. Somehow. I'll miss you both too but you're going to be fine. I think you'll like it out there and it will be good for Griana - as you say it may solve one particular problem."
"I hate this. I really hate it."
Fian reached a hand across the table and patted hers. "It'll get better. It has to get better from here. And who knows? We may get lucky and you can both come home."
They smiled at one another despite both of them knowing precisely how little chance of that existed. What else was there to do?

Changing Scenes, part 8: Paths

There was a small cove hidden by reeds just around the edge of Lough na Phúca away from the construction work. Far enough away that the children couldn't see (or be seen from) the growing sprawl of tents, but not so far that they couldn't hear when they were called. It wasn't wise right now to delay in responding to an adult's call. It was a haven. A quiet place where they could think, or talk, or just escape from the tension growing even faster than the settlement. Bláithín and Fiach skimmed small flat stones across the lake in silence. The reeds rustled behind them and Griana made her way through. She sat beside them, elbows on her knees, head falling straight to her hands, and a heartfelt sigh.
"The ships are here. We'll be leaving soon."
Fiach shrugged his shoulders. "What's wrong with that? I hate living out here in tents and stuff."
Griana frowned at him. "It's not about tents, Fiach. It's about staying and fighting for our home."
"You sound just like my Mum."
"Well your mum is right, isn't she?"
They were interrupted by a loud splash. Bláithín had found a largish stone and flung it straight into the water. Fiach grimaced slightly, then put an arm around her.
"It'll be okay. My Mum will make sure of it."
Bláithín didn't so much as look at him. "Your mum can't fix everything, Fiach."
"What's wrong?", asked Griana, moving to sit the other side of her.
"Well things are only going to get worse now, aren't they? Now the ships are here."
"What things?" Fiach looked out over the water as if that would help.
She looked at him this time. "My Mammy. She wants to leave just as much as yours, Griana. She says the same things - that it's silly to stay and people are going to die when they don't have to."
"Aw you can't both go!", objected Fiach.
Bláithín sighed impatiently. "Don't you get it? My Daddy won't leave. Doesn't want us to leave either. And she won't stay! So they're going to fight about it again and again and things are never going to get better!"
Speaking very quietly like she didn't want anyone but herself to hear, Griana said, "I told my Mam I wished Dad was still here coz he'd stay and fight and wouldn't make us go. She got mad and sent me back out to work but when I went back later she was crying and I think she had been for a while. So I said I'd go."
"Well it doesn't matter what we say we'll do, we're going to lose one of them!"
Fiach squeezed her shoulder. "But at least you'll still have one of them, right? And if you stay then we'll still be together."
"And if you leave, I'll be there too." Griana added.
"But I want both of them! I don't want to go away and never see my Daddy again! What if those Conclave do attack?"
It was Fiach's turn to speak soft. "That's why you don't want to stay. If them or the Empire attack then we all have to fight. All of us." He twisted a clump of grass out of the earth, studied the roots a moment, then tossed it aside.
"Mammy wants to go to Tamarus. Her other circle is there. And I think Footnote is here because the Knights want to make sure she does go. So if that happens, I might not see either of you again." Bláithín looked from one to the other, then down at her feet. In moments the three of them were sitting in a row just like that.
A clear minute passed before Fiach said, "Don't say that, okay? We're all going to be okay and we'll see each other again when it's all over and we get the citadel back and you can come home."
"What if we don't get it back?", asked Bláithín.
"Then I'll come find you as soon as I'm allowed", replied Fiach. "I promise I will. I'll find Tamarus and Rysarius."
"Mam says we might travel around Lantia a bit." Griana said. "So I might not be on Rysarius."
"Well if I do have to go to Tamarus then you can write to me sometimes? Tell me where you are? So when Fiach comes we can find you?"
"Okay. You think you will go? To Tamarus?"
Bláithín shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. They're too busy fighting to ask us what we want."
"My Mam has no one to fight with and she still doesn't ask me."
"Yup."
The three children looked out over the once more still lake.

Ruairí sat quiet as a mouse in the long grass. He had gone to the lough to find his sister and her friends but had stopped as soon as he was in earshot. He knew it wasn't right to listen in on their conversation without them knowing but... he needed to think about it. By himself. He knew what he wanted to do, but was it fair on Bláithín? If things really were as dangerous as his mother believed, did he want Bláithín and the younger ones to stay? Did he want his mother to stay? He just needed to think.

Changing Scenes, part 9: Entrenched

The men and women under Lugh's command knew to expect to train hard in between their duties reinforcing the passes and the tense waiting for 'something' to happen. They knew the drills would be tough and their limits tested. It had served them well over the last couple of years - kept most of them alive. But when they saw him return from a rather heated argument with his wife, a dread passed between them. It was going to be a long day.
An hour later, they felt like they'd been training for eight. When Lugh went to get together some new weaponry for the next set of drills, they gathered around Daragh, Lugh's friend and second.
"You've got to talk to him."
"Yeah - we can't keep on like this."
"Calm him down - you've done it before."
"What's she thinking anyway, coming up here like that?"
Daragh nodded around at their troupe. "He just needs to blow off steam - but you're right. I'll talk to him. Rest up while you can." He smiled and left them sitting around a barrel of water one of the older children brought them. It didn't take long to find Lugh storming about the dugout that was their makeshift armoury.
"Let's step outside for a moment, Lugh."
"We've got training to do. We don't know when they'll attack. We have to be ready."
"The men are exhausted. Hardly a fit state of readiness. Come on. Let's talk."
Lugh snatched up a couple of swords too quickly, cutting his fingers on the blades. "Damn! I don't want to talk about it."
"Then let's talk about something else - but the men need a break. They'll only let you take so much of it out on them. You know what I'm saying?" He took the swords from his friend.
Lugh wiped his hand on his already heavily stained shirt. He sighed with resignation. "Perhaps you're right. I did go a little hard on them."
"A little?"
"Alright, a lot."
"It's okay. They understand - not like anyone didn't hear you two afterall."
Lugh groaned and indicated for Daragh to put the swords back in their place. "I didn't want to get into another shouting match with her. She's just so damned infuriating."
They made their way out of the dugout into the Summer air, wandered a little past where another group were training, picked up a couple of loaves of bread, and found a spot in the shade. They ate in silence for a short while - Daragh respecting Lugh's wish not to talk about it but knowing too well that he would not keep it in for long.
"What's wrong with her?! This is our home! Doesn't that mean anything to her anymore?"
"Are you so surprised? You've known a long time that's where she was headed. The Lions have her so turned around I don't think she knows where home is anymore." Daragh grimaced sympathetically.
Lugh shook his head. "I've tried everything with her. What am I supposed to do now?"
"For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing", said Daragh.
Lugh scratched his head then looked at Daragh. "But what if she's right?"
"About what?"
"This." He looked out around the pass and the tired faces around them. "We'll fight. It's what we were born to do - if we have to die defending our home then so be it. But should the children die here too?"
Daragh moved in closer. "Listen to me, Lugh. We're not going to lose. The Conclave can't hold against the Armengarian will to be free in our home. Nor the Empire. Perhaps a lot of people will die in getting rid of these foreigners from our shores but the children will be kept safe - as they've always been. The likes of Rua and Cosaint and other doomsayers only say we'll lose because they've been infected by the Lions - the Lions that ran away from their home twice with hardly a fight! They've forgotten what it's like to be Armengarian."
"She hates me. Every day I make her stay she hates me more."
"You're doing the right thing." Daragh stroked his beard as he thought about it for a moment. "Do you want her back, Lugh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you've been miserable since you left her - even though you know it was for the best! You tried to get her to see where she belonged - you weren't to know how blinded she had already become. But even knowing all that, do you still want her back?"
Lugh frowned. "I want the girl I married back. I'm just not sure she's still there anymore."
"Then this is why I think you have to hold fast on this. Make her stay - we both know she won't leave without the children. Let her see her people for what they are again - let her celebrate our victory when we get the citadel back! And the longer she's away from the outsiders, well so much the better. I think by the time we reclaim this island - all of it - the Rua you knew will be back."
I wish it could be so easy." said Lugh as he tore off another chunk of bread.
"True. There are complications. Who's the fairy?"
His fists clenched automatically. "Some stupid name I can't remember. Thinks himself some sort of knight." Lugh laughed suddenly - a dry cynical laugh. "The fool has no idea what he's got himself involved with."
"Any idea what he's doing here?"
"Rua has it in her head that because he's fey he's somehow above the motivations that might drive a man to follow a woman half way round the world. She never was all that bright." His fist came down then, sending up a cloud of dust. "It would serve her right if he used her and tossed her away once he was done! She might learn then!"
Daragh could only smirk with as much sympathy as he could muster and let Lugh continue.
"Only then I'd have to kill him for daring to hurt her."
"He's not Human. He doesn't understand our ways - that she's your wife means nothing to him. Better to protect her from him now than later I think." Daragh watched closely as Lugh's silence stood testimony to the thoughts forming in his head. Very slowly he turned his attention to Daragh.
"What exactly are you suggesting?"
Another shrug. "If you want her back you have to make her stay - only it's not going to work as long as he's still around reminding her of Lions doctrine. He doesn't belong here. It would be best for him too if he left. He just might need... convincing."
Lugh smiled then. "You know what? I might just leave that one to the twins." With a sigh he got himself back to his feet. "Come on. Break's over."

Changing Scenes, part 10: Questions

Footnote laughed out loud. "What's it like?" he repeated, and bent down, smiling. "What do you mean?"
Amáraiga looked at him as if he were a little slow. "What's it like," she repeated slowly, "Being a fey?"
Footnote tried to stop the smile from spreading across his face, not entirely successfully, but he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed gently whilst he tried to think of a reply. "Well, now. That's a good question, you know, but it might be a little hard to answer: I might just as easily ask you what it's like to be a human?"
"Don't be silly! Everyone knows what it's like to be normal," explained Amáraiga. "Anyway," she continued, with indisputable logic. "I asked first."
"There is that," the fey admitted, sitting down cross-legged on the grass. He rested his chin on a hand, and went on. "You see, I've never been human - normal, so I don't know what that's like. I don't think I ever will be normal, so it's a little hard to explain."
The girl pondered this for a moment. "That's a shame." She was lost in thought for a moment, and then the interrogation continued. "What's that stuff on your face?"
"I have stuff? On my face?" Footnote asked, eyes wide. "Where?"
"There!" the child scolded him, pointing at the strange red-black markings of glamour that had been there for longer than he could remember.
He just about restrained himself from his usual answer of well, it's a fey thing; it wasn't a very good answer in the first place, and it would certainly do nothing to satisfy Amáraiga's curiosity, so he tried to explain as best he could. "We call it glamour," he said. "It's a little like magic, but just a little different, as well." Amáraiga looked surprised and suspicious in equal parts, so he plunged on with the explanation regardless. "If you could take a tiny, tiny piece of magic, and then make it a solid, real thing, then that would be what glamour is like. It's not really magic, like your mother can do, but it's there all the same, and I couldn't get rid of it, even if I tried."
"Can't you change it? My friend said that you fairies could change your faces. Can you?"
"Well, I could - but I don't, and I wouldn't without a very good reason. You have to think really hard about it, to start with, and even then it hurts quite a lot. When I was little, I could change it just as easily as you could change your clothes, or brush your hair, but as time goes by it gets harder and harder, so I think I'm stuck with this."
The little girl reached out curiously and touched the red marking on his cheek. Whilst she pulled her hand back quite quickly, she seemed a little disappointed that it hadn't felt strange or interesting, and made a disapproving face. "I don't think I'd like that. It doesn't sound very nice to be able to change your face and then not be able to. That like saying you have to wear the same clothes all the time when you grow up, and that's silly. I'm glad I'm just a normal girl."
"That's good. It'd be terrible if you weren't."
"Are you glad to be a fairy?"
"Yes, mostly," he smiled gently.
"Only mostly?"
"Well-" he began, and paused as he tried to work out what on earth to say. How did you go about explaining this enormous gulf, a way of thinking that was still unfamiliar to him. "Well," he went on after a moment. "Sometimes people don't take you seriously. They look at fey as one big joke. 'Don't worry about him, he's just a fey', or telling me what a foolish name I have, or thinking that I won't take things seriously."
Amáraiga looked deeply at him for a moment. "Is that like when people say I can't do things yet because I'm only a little girl?"
"That's exactly right. But there are so many fey who are irresponsible and trouble-makers that it's easy for people to think that all fey must be like that." He glanced sideways and lowered his voice. "Don't tell anyone," he said, putting his finger to his lips, "But I used to be like that sometimes, many years ago."
"Are you really old then?"
Footnote leaned back from where he was sitting and laughed out loud; it was the first real laugh he'd felt in what seemed an age. Amáraiga looked a little puzzled, so he explained. "Yes, I am old. By your idea - but by my standards I am relatively young. I think I'm about ninety years old. Well, I've counted at least seventy winters, and I'm sure I saw a few of them before I started counting." The little girl's eyes had grown wider and wider as he'd been talking, and then narrowed suspiciously. "No, really!" he nodded, putting a hand on his heart. "Possibly even more than that, but I just don't know. That's why it's so hard to explain about being a fey: we are different in many ways from men and women and boys and girl. We're even very different from each other, as well. It would be like trying to talk about a rainbow to a person who couldn't see. You'd say that it appears in the sky, and it's made of lots of colours, but they'd never see the magic that you're talking about."
Amáraiga mulled this over for a moment, biting her bottom lip in concentration. "So, if you can't describe it, how do you know you're a fey?" The question took Footnote completely by surprise. For a long moment he sat with a slightly puzzled look on his face and his mouth gaping like a fish.
"I don't know," he finally admitted. "It's something I know, deep inside. When I'm with other fey I know that I'm like them, and not like anything else." He held up his hands in surrender as she glared at him. "I know, I know, it's not a good answer, but I don't know the words to explain it," which seemed to satisfy her, for this week at least. "Anyway, you," he grinned, standing up and helping her to her feet. "People are looking for you, and here we are sitting in the forest talking!"
"I like the forest," Amáraiga stated, pouting. "It's quiet. And I like climbing trees. I found a wonderful old one this morning - I bet it's even older than you. But you could only tell if you cut it down. Come on," she exclaimed enthusiastically, taking his hand. "I'll show you!"
"We should probably-" he began, but was cut off by an appealing look. "People will get worried about you," he said. "Especially your mother." Her face turned downcast immediately. "You remember where the tree is though?"
"Oh, yes, I'll remember where that tree is, for certain!"
"Then maybe you can show me some other day, and right now we go back and get you your tea."
She shrugged. "Alright. I suppose it is getting dark soon, and I need to see to climb trees." The two of them started back down the path to the makeshift town. They hadn't taken five steps before "You live on an Island, don't you? Do you have trees there?..."

Changing Scenes, part 11: Interlude

Going into the forest alone wasn't a very sensible thing to do. Rua knew this even as she set out with very little provisions other than her cloak should it turn cold, and some dried bread and meat should she get hungry. Even more foolish yet was that she told no one where she was going. It took her a full hour of solitary walking before that awkward guilt feeling for the worry she would no doubt cause, set in. She could have turned around then - might even have made it back before anyone missed her, but Rua wanted to be alone. She continued. Only when she got to the coast where she could see the ship sailing away, did she stop. She should have been on it.
She was losing control. She was completely and utterly lost with no idea how to solve the problems that faced her. As she watched the ship slowly disappearing over the horizon, it was as if it brought her last hope with it. Yes there'd be other ships but to what use? So she and Lugh could have the same fight over and over again? No, not the same. They were definitely getting worse. Meaner. Crueller. And they couldn't exactly be kept private under current circumstances. That was why she needed to get out on her own today. She wasn't sure which bothered her more - the scornful glances that condemned her as a coward, or the pitying looks. It haunted the children too. Bláithín had begged her to stay and make things better with her father. Carraig hadn't said a single word - not even to Gabriel. Amáraiga had less desire than usual to climb trees and Ruairí - well he was the odd one. He would just watch her with the weight of the world in his thoughts. Occasionally he would hug her and then go back to the duties he was taking far too seriously for his age. Even Footnote was starting to irritate. He looked at her like no matter how much he wanted to, he didn't know how to make things better - and why should he when she didn't even know where to start? Today it just - it annoyed her. All of them annoyed her. Those she hated being stuck on this island with and those she wished were on that boat with her, alike. And that's why it was best to be alone - and not to say a word for it was certain one of them would try to accompany her.
The seas were still again. Empty. The sun shone high above and every now and then a bird would skim across the low waves. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees looking out over it. If she expected inspiration to suddenly sweep over her, it was yet to happen. What could she do? She and Lugh were at an impasse and neither seemed likely to back down. It was only Bláithín's distress that made her relent this time and let the ship go. She would take the risk until the next one arrived, but then? What would she do then? Perhaps Lugh would come round but she doubted it. If she wanted to go it would have to be against his wishes and that - there'd be no going back from that. No forgiveness for either of them. If she succeeded in getting the children on the next ship - without his blessing - it would truly and finally be over. Here they stood on the brink and it was altogether unlikely that either of them could do what was needed to pull them back. She couldn't bear to imagine how difficult this had to be for the children - to watch and be powerless to prevent it. Lugh was right about one thing. It was her doing. Her fault their family had fallen apart. If she had never gone to that first Gathering, never got involved in rituals... and yet the thoughts of returning to her life before that... no. She could never go back. She was where she needed to be.
No matter the cost?
It seemed like an entirely different voice speaking in her head. Not hers but almost as familiar. From the corner of her eye she could almost see the red haired woman sitting beside her. As soon as she looked, she was gone. But the question remained. She still couldn't believe how her marriage had gone so horribly wrong. In hindsight she could see the points at which it changed and grew steadily worse, but try as she might, could she see any other way around them? Was there anyone else she could be but who she had become? Was there a time to grow up and leave childhood romances behind? Was that all it amounted to? Had peace and the resulting need for them both to grow out of the roles Armengar dictated for them, finally destroyed them?
It was too difficult. If it was true, she had no wish to admit it. If it was false - she had no idea how to fix it.
And what of Footnote?
There was that knot in her stomach again.
'It's not supposed to happen to a Fey. To fall for a Human.'
How often had those words repeated now? Oh he very quickly took it back saying it wasn't like that but more a matter of him seeing something special he wished to protect. She believed him because it was better to believe that then have this further complication right when she needed his friendship most.
But why do you need him so badly?
Lemming was a friend too yet she hadn't asked him to be here on Amnor with her. Would Aldous have refused had she asked? Or Sheyna, or Adara, or Robin - or any of them? Then again, if any of them had offered, would she have turned them down? Or would she have jumped at the opportunity of their company - and to drag them into untold danger with her - just as eagerly? Perhaps not. But what did that mean?
There was no answer. The other voice fell back into silence, the trees rustled, the waves lapped. No inspiration. No answers. Rua didn't want to be alone in that silence anymore.

Changing Scenes, part 12: Choices

He scanned the crowded shanty town. Was Rua there? Apparently not, and he knew better than to ask around for her. No matter what he did he was, and always would be, an outsider - one of those Lions who'd arrived and stolen people away from Armengar. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable. Was that really all the Armengarians wanted? To reclaim their island and then be left alone, to live behind those walls, never changing, never seeing the wonders the rest of the world had to offer? Surely, without an enemy to keep them united, the confinement would be the end of them. They'd always had something to keep them facing outward rather than fighting amongst themselves, but when that vanished, would they fragment and turn bitter? In that case it would almost be better if they didn't retake the fortress.
It seemed somehow too symbolic for them: too many Armengarians seemed ready to sacrifice anything - anything - to get it back. Their people, their children, any aid the Lions sent. Then again, he himself had felt pretty much the same way after the fall of Avalon, before he realised that he hadn't really lost his home in the flight through the void, he'd just taken it with him. No matter what he felt about Avalon, and no matter how hard he'd wished to be back there, it wouldn't be home without the people who lived there. Aldous, Robin, his new cousin Anri. Oliver, as short-tempered as he was. Lucas. Sheyna. So many other Lions who'd come and gone over the years.
Rua. Wherever his thoughts went, it always cycled back to her in the end, and as they did his chest tightened in that familiar way. Could anywhere ever feel like home without her? No. So what was there to do? Wait till the ships arrived and try and persuade her to go back to Tamarus? No, not whilst there was still a chance that Rua and Lugh might sort out their differences. Both of them so stubborn, and so different, it had torn them apart for years, and looked set to continue doing so. It didn't really bear considering: was it the start of the unity of Armengar falling apart?
Maybe he could talk to them? I wish someone were here that I could ask advice. He didn't rate his chances of getting a straight answer from most of the people here. I'd have better odds holding talks with the Conclave than with some of these people! He stopped that thought right there. No matter what he felt about the barely hidden looks and the just-audible whispers he got from some of the more narrower minded Armengarians, the Conclave were evil and needed to be stopped. But we can choose when to fight them, and where.
Idly, he wondered how you'd even think about storming the place. With the great barriers over the walls, not even Gwion could break through them without a great effort indeed. You couldn't get inside the damned place even if it weren't occupied at the time.
"Well, that didn't take long, did it?" he muttered to himself. "Maybe I should be a general; I'd soon sort out how not to do things!" Still, he was certain he missed something. "No bother," he told himself. "You've got time yet to work it out. If it's important, it'll come to mind."
What came to mind though, was Rua's family. All of them. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, he felt responsible for the latest set of rows and recriminations. The whole family seemed on the verge of tearing in two. Knowing that the strain had been showing for many months didn't help in the slightest. And it wasn't just the family: the whole island knew what was happening, and as an outsider and a strange fey thing, he was an easy target for blame. He wondered vaguely if the menacing glances he received would ever turn to something more violent.
The hardest thing was knowing that both parents felt that they were doing what was right for the family. Being a diplomat for so long had taught Footnote the knack of seeing both sides of an argument, and usually to find somewhere in the middle for the sides to meet up. But in this case, there was no middle ground. You could choose to live, to celebrate the freedom that the Armengarians didn't realise that they had, or you could choose to die with honour, fighting to take back the only home they'd ever known. No middle ground.
Footnote knew which argument he followed. The world is a wonderful, beautiful place, and life is a gift more precious than any other. To throw it away fighting a futile cause would be an insult to all the ancestors and a disgrace to your own name. Surely it was better to live to fight the evil another day. It felt like most of Amnor disagreed with him, though, which meant that all the stories about glorious death in the face of the enemy were being bandied about all the campfires. Everyone that Lugh listened to would keep reassuring him that he was doing the right thing, and only his wife spoke otherwise. To be fair, there were other dissenting voices, but they tended to be other Armengarians who'd spent time with the Lions, and that seemed to put them under a constant cloud of suspicion, as if the Lions were somehow corrupting them with cowardice. Not for the first time, he wished that he had Ki'ana's gift of words. Surely she'd be able to find some way of explaining to people that things could never quite be the same again? Then again, perhaps not. Actually being a Lion was probably even worse than just spending time with the Lions.
Still, he mused, sitting doing nothing would never fix this mess, and it was worth practically any price to try and put this family back together. Maybe taking an active role would just cause pain to those around him, but things couldn't really get that much worse. And when it came to trying to find the right thing to do, there wasn't really any choice. Footnote ran one hand through his hair, straightened up, and went to find Lugh.
It wasn't that hard. He just walked to the crowd of the biggest, toughest unit of guards in the camp and looked for the sergeant who was in charge. Walking up unarmed to a group of men who might turn violent was possibly not the wisest act he'd ever taken. Blood pounded in his head. He'd not been this nervous since trying to bluff his way into the Underdark with no good reason! Be calm. You won't get anywhere without that. He took a deep breath, and then let it out quickly, as one of the soldiers accidentally barged into him.
"Hey! Look what's here!" Two or three of them jeered, but a snarl from Lugh shut them up. "Funny kind of a knight, aren't you? You haven't even got a sword!"
Footnote wondered whether to even dignify the comment with a reply, and decided not to bother. He looked Lugh in the eyes, "I think we need to talk."
"Damn right!" came the angry reply. "You need to listen to me close, fey. I'm going to tell you how things are around here, and you'd better listen carefully."
Footnote gestured. "Outside, perhaps?"
Lugh glared at him, trying to make out if the fey was mocking him in some inscrutable way. He wouldn't put it past him, that was for certain. "Get out of here," he scowled at the men. They shuffled out, smirking to themselves, and Footnote was glad he didn't catch any of their whispered conversation on the way.
Once the room had cleared, Lugh started talking. "Now, I don't know who you are, or what you think you're doing, but I'm going to give you just this one warning: You stay away from my wife, and stay away from my family. We don't need you, and we don't need your kind."
"I thought I could help."
"You thought wrong. Rua doesn't need your 'help', she needs to get back to what's important."
"What's that?"
"She needs to get back to her people and stop trying to kill herself!"
Unlike the idea of going back to her people and doing exactly that! Footnote bit off the reply before it came out, remembering why he was there. "Lugh, Rua believes that what she's doing is important. You can't change that belief, any more than she could convince you to leave the island." He prayed that maybe some of the words would get through, but looking at Lugh's stance, thumbs threaded through his wide belt, it didn't seem to be making any impression.
"Maybe if we didn't have some interfering Lion here whispering to her all the time, she'd remember what's actually important."
"Maybe," Footnote conceded. "Maybe you're right." But somehow I doubt it. He sighed, and turned towards the door. "But you can't stop Rua from making her own choices. The harder you try to stop her, the less she'll listen. You still have a chance to listen to her. Please don't throw that away." He walked back out into the barracks yard and headed towards the woods. Some solitude might do him a little good for a while, and the forests were very beautiful in the fading light.

Changing Scenes, part 13: Ruairí

Seven days and seven nights since the ship left. Rua was starting to worry that none others would appear - that her people had been so rude to the last crew, no more would come, unlikely as that was. So she worked hard through the days, getting into a routine of fetching water and preparing food for the hundreds of children left by the Lough for whichever side would come after them first. It was hard to smile at the children and assure them everything would be alright. She didn't believe it but it would do no good to any of them to know that. At night she would sleep for the few hours allowed her by sheer exhaustion before the dreams would begin. The fall of Armengar that frequently confused itself with the fall of Avalon. Then she would wake. Sometimes to watch the children sleeping, sometimes to walk to the water's edge and stare at a reflection with no answers. Sometimes the tears came, sometimes they didn't. Footnote would always find her and sit with her. Talking if she wanted to talk, just sitting beside her if there were no words to say. On the seventh night she was surprised when the voice that spoke to her was much younger...
"Mother?" Seeing there were tears in her eyes, he quickly sat beside her, hugging her arm to him. "Don't cry Ma, there'll be more ships."
She wiped her eyes as she looked at him in surprise. It wasn't what she expected to hear from Ruairí. "You want to leave?"
He shook his head, and then with unshakeably conviction, said "No. And I won't leave. I'm going to stay with Da but I want you and the others to go somewhere safe."
She supposed it was too much to hope. She knew he would be the difficult one. "Ruairí."
He shook his head again and released her arm to just hold her hand. "No listen to me, Ma. I've really thought about this. A lot. I know it's really dangerous to stay here but some of us have to, you know? We can't just give up and let them throw us out of our home. But not everyone should stay because if they do win and kill us all then that's just a waste and we really do lose." He nodded then as he came to his conclusion. "So it's only smart that people who are better at other things than fighting go do those things. Like you and Bláithín. And Amáraiga and Carraig are too young to stay."
"So are you, Ruairí."
"I'm not going, Ma. I told you. No matter what happens. I'm going to stay and fight. I'm old enough to make my own choices now - just like Bláithín got to pick where she wanted to go to school."
Rua's hand reached for his shoulder in an earnest attempt to make him see sense. "It's not the same thing. Ruairí please, you can be a fighter if that's what you want - you'll be a fine soldier! I just want to see you grow up first!"
He moved closer and this time took both her hands. "I'm trying to tell you I'll help you! You know Da won't just let you take us away with you - he's too sad and angry to see that by the time it gets really dangerous it'll be too late to make you safe. And he doesn't trust you - and definitely not that Footnote - to not try run away. But you've got to go anyway, Ma. And if I stay I can help you. At least you'll get the others safe, right?"
She closed her eyes. "Ruairí, I can't possible imagine leaving without you."
"But you have to." He squeezed her hands. "Otherwise Bláithín, Amáraiga, and Carraig will be stuck here too. When the next ship comes and just before it leaves again, I'll keep Da away so you can go. And I know the people he has watching you so we can make sure they're distracted or something. But I have to stay and you have to let me."
It stunned her. "He has people watching me?" Had it really come to this?
Ruairí nodded solemnly. "He's really upset. He knows he made a big mistake and he just wants you to love him again and he thinks making you stay will..." He frowned. "I don't really understand why he thinks making you stay will fix things."
She hugged him tight. "I wish it could all be different. I'm so sorry for all of this."
"Well you can fix it later, okay? But you have to go first. He knows you won't go without us and that's why he's making us stay - he doesn't really want the others to be in any danger either! And that's how you'll get away. Because if I stay, he won't believe you're trying to get away."
"And he'd be right-"
"Ma, please. I'm staying. I want to stay and I want to fight and I want to make sure you're all safe, okay? And anyway you won't get me on that ship except by making some sailors carry me on and I'll never ever forgive you if you do that."
She wanted to tell him she didn't care, she'd happily live with that if it meant he'd be with her and... the look on his face was so resolute. He was all too fast becoming that strong and honourable man she knew he would be. She closed her eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath and accepting... there was no way she could force him on that ship. No way to get the others to safety without his help. "Aren't you worried your father will be cross with you?"
He shrugged. "I can handle it. I think once you're gone and safe he'll be glad. He still loves you. He just misses you."
She rubbed the side of her face with her hand. "I know."
There was the slightest frown as Ruairí said "More than Footnote does."
She groaned inwardly. Not this again. How many times? "He's just a friend."
"How long do you think Bláithín and Fiach will be just friends?"
It was a startling comparison. She hadn't expected his awareness of the growing bond between his sister and Caoimhe's son. "It's hardly the same thing."
He shrugged again. "None of us like the way you and Da fight all the time now. When we get the citadel back, will you come home? So we can all try again?"
Such pleading in his eyes. He looked so young again but... he'd proved himself old enough to make the toughest of choices - old enough for the truth. "Honey, if I have to leave Amnor the way you say, then I don't think there's any way back from that. I have to be honest with you - you're old enough now to hear it. He won't forgive me if I do this."
Ruairí's face dropped.
"And I'm not so sure I can forgive him for leaving me with no choice."
He went so pale for a moment she thought he wasn't breathing. He did seem to be struggling. "But... when the Empire are gone... and the Conclave... you can come home. Things will be different then!"
She smiled sadly at him. "You seemed very sure you could never forgive me if I made you come with me."
He looked at her with large unblinking eyes for a minute. Words seemed so many miles away. When she hugged him she felt his tears soaking through her shirt. She did him the courtesy of not letting go until there were no more to be seen.

Changing Scenes, part 14: Persuasion

Fian made her way up to the pass carrying with her an assortment of roughly made swords. She was far from happy with them but they would have to do until she could get her smithy back... strange how she had finally begun to consider it hers and not Corthar's just in time for it to be taken from her. It wasn't the crudeness of the weapons that weighed most heavily on her mind as she walked, though. The reason she had come herself and not sent one of the boys was there was someone she needed to see. She'd heard the gossip and even witnessed the tail end of the last fight and there was no denying it was time for her to interfere again. Eibhlín's daughter was in a kind of trouble she seemed entirely unable to get out of herself and so it fell to Fian. Promises to keep. She made her way to the weapons store and quickly left the blades behind her, then went in search of Lugh. It took only a moment to find him.
"Lugh? Hello. Can I talk to you a moment?"
He frowned but then as he suddenly remembered the debt he owed her, he nodded politely. "Fian. It's been a while. Rua's not here - but maybe you can talk some sense into her. She'll listen to you."
Fian gritted her teeth. "Actually it's you I wanted to talk to. Could we perhaps take a walk somewhere a little more private?"
Lugh nodded again and they went a little distance away from the ongoing drills and training in the pass. There was no point to beating around the bush.
"Don't keep them here, Lugh." She told him. "You will fight all the better knowing at least they will live on - whatever happens."
If he was surprised at her brashness, he wasn't letting on. "You should stay out of this Fian."
"I can't. I promised her mother. Do you still love her?" It was always the simple questions that threw people.
He took in a deep breath and firmly nodded. "Of course I do. I always will. I only left her because..."
Fian interrupted. "You thought she'd come back to you. Now you need to do one more drastic thing out of your love for her - and your family. Let her go. Let her keep them safe."
He almost considered it a moment, but then a shadow crossed his features and his eyes narrowed. "But the thoughts of him - I've seen how he looks at her!"
Fian sighed. She had noticed it too - it was hard not too. What was the foolish girl thinking, making her situation ten times worse by bringing the fey with her? "And you're right. I've seen them too and Footnote is in love with her. But ask yourself this, Lugh? Who better to protect her than a man in love with her?"
He seemed angry at first, but as the sense of what she said filtered down, he found it hard to even speak. "But... what about her? Is she...?"
"She's young. There's ever only been you in her life. And right now all she wants is someone who will comfort her and take her and the children somewhere safe. Either she genuinely doesn't see his feelings for her or she doesn't want to."
"So she doesn't love him?" Lugh's eyes begged her to tell him it was so - she didn't love this fey. Fian wasn't in the business of lying.
"I honestly don't know, Lugh. I think she has other concerns right now. In time? I really don't know."
"So I have to let her go with this man intent on winning her from me and what, just hope that despite him giving her all she wants, she'll still come back to me?"
Fian held her hands palms up. "What's the alternative? Force her to stay? You know she will hate you for it - more and more each day. And what of your children? At the very best they just get to witness whatever love that remains between their parents being shattered. At worst they die here. You're a good father, Lugh. That can't be what you want. Think about it."
"But-"
She smiled sadly. "I have work to get back to. Think about it. You won't get this chance again." With all her points made, Fian turned to leave. Lugh didn't stop her and didn't follow. Even as she left the passes she could see him still standing. Thinking.

Changing Scenes, part 15: Departures

Finally. Rua overheard some of the children talking about a ship coming into harbour and she quickly set out up Carraig a Phúca. No sooner had she picked her way up the rocky hillside but she was greeted by the clean white sails of a Lions ship. Hope once more. And with it... one more step closer to that point of no return. Her excitement at seeing the ship was instantly deflated and she sat on the hill watching the sailors prepare the ship for harbour. At least an hour had to have passed as she watched, seeing only the hardest decision of her life that lay ahead of her. Footsteps fell behind her.
"Rua?"
She turned around to see Footnote standing there. She smiled best she could, then patted the ground beside her bidding him to sit. Pulling her knees up under her chin, her gaze went back out to sea and the infinite choices beyond. "I was afraid I'd never see another ship again."
He sat beside her, joining her in watching the activity on board as supplies were unloaded. "I know. I nearly didn't believe the runner boy. Well, not till I saw the sails in the docks."
"I'm just not sure if I'm happy or sad to see it now it's finally here."
"It's not an end, you know. I'm not going to try and kid you that it's a bright new beginning, but the tale's not done yet."
She shook her head. Rua wished she could believe that but she knew the truth too well. Knew the consequences of where her next move would take her. "It is the end, Footnote. If I have to leave the way I think I do - it's over."
He looked at her in that gentle way of his. Like the wisdom of his years brought with it a serenity he could pass to her just by watching over her. "How?"
Then again, perhaps he was just as naïve and foolish as she that this wasn't all obvious to them from the start. She looked back at him. Such a gentle caring spirit and she had put him in danger. There was only one thing to do - she just couldn't look at him while she did it. "I want you to leave. Get on the ship and leave. You shouldn't be here."
The silence was painful. Her feet kicked at dirt and it was all she could do to hold herself steady, focusing on the ground, the sea, the sky - anywhere put...
"I..." Footnote tried to stand but stopped leaving himself kneeling awkwardly beside her. It took a long moment for him to find a way to continue. "You're right. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come here. There's a lot of things I've done that I shouldn't have." He paused. "What's happened?"
Such an emptiness in the question. Rua didn't understand it - or more precisely which 'what' he was referring to. There were just so many to choose from. Her resolved flickered as she fought the urge to reach out to him, but she had to pull herself together. This one she had to do alone. There could be no question of who was responsible. Footnote had to go. "It's my fault. I didn't think this through. I shouldn't have brought you with me. But the ship is here now. You can go home."
"And where's that?" he asked.
Not sure if it was a trick question, one of anger, or one of hurt, she replied, "Well Tamarus."
"That's just where I live, it's not home. Home was way back in Avalon, but I'll never see those fields and forests again. No, home isn't any one place, it's people. It's all the Lions who are my friends."
How many times had she heard that? How many times had she said that to persuade people home could be anywhere their children lived? It was an undeniable truth but if he was going a particular direction with it, she had to stop it. How can you possibly undo all the harm you've done? Will you just create more pain? She silenced the voice but desperation crept into hers. "And I have to be that for my children now - now that I'm taking them away from their home and their father. I can't be worrying about you too so please, just go."
Footnote looked at her, just once, before his shoulders sagged in resignation. He stood. "And I don't want to worry about you, but you know I will, don't you?"
She looked straight at him. Then with striking sincerity she said, "I know. I wish I didn't sometimes but I know."
Her breath caught. Footnote just continued looking at her with that gaze of his. Making it all the more difficult. "If you truly want me to go, then you know I'll do it. I know it would be foolish - no, stupid - for me to help you down to the boat. I'd be run in as a kidnapper or traitor or worse. But I don't want to. This is a time when good sense trumps the 'I wants', isn't it?"
Realising she was still staring - still caught in a truth she only just discovered, she shook her head ever so slightly, breaking away from one thought to be confronted with another. He was right. "Yeah. I mean - that's it, isn't it? What we want doesn't matter - not here and not now. There's people waiting for any excuse - Aldous would kill me if I let you give them one." It wasn't that she wanted to send him away at all, just... he had to because things only got worse from here. "You'll be blamed for this anyway, you know. I don't think we're ever going to get that chance to show you around Amnor properly. But at least if you go to the ship now - you'll be safe."
"What's happening, Rua? I know something's wrong - I'm not the most observant creature on the world, but I'm not that bad. And, if I'm going to be blamed for something, at least let me get my excuses in order." He tried to smile but fell short, letting it turn to a sigh instead.
"Truthfully? I don't know. I don't know that if I take the children and walk down to that ship, Lugh would do anything to stop me. I don't want to believe he would. I've known him such a long time - since we were both children - I can't believe it. But things are so different now." Dammit. She didn't want to tell him all this but... right or wrong, he'd come with her. He'd comforted her when she felt hope slipping from her grasp, been the strength she needed to believe in her own. He had a right to know. "And I can't take the chance of him stopping me so I have to make sure he doesn't find out until it's too late." And once she started, she couldn't stop... "I have to deceive him to get our children to safety and I hate him for it. I can't take my son with me and I hate him for that too."
She battled the tears with only moderate success, cursing herself for letting herself get into a state again - especially now when she needed him to leave her...
"Oh, Rua. I'm so sorry." He knelt down beside her. "It's such a useless word. No matter how much I feel I can't change things with it, can I? You were right, I shouldn't have come. I've only made things worse."
It was so unfair! It was hardly Footnote's fault! "He accuses me of caring more about rituals and the Lions than my own people - but he cares more about that damned citadel than coming with me and keeping our family safe and together." Quietly, "What's left for us now? Just lies and sneaking around and hurting one another in ways we never dreamt possible. We both lose - the children all the more so."
Footnote seemed just as ill equipped for dealing with the unfairness of it all. "I wish there was a way I could fit everything back together. I wish I could believe that Lugh would come round eventually, but he believes he's right with the same passion that I believe you're right. Is there anyone he'd listen to?"
Faces flashed behind her eyes. Faces she liked about as well as Lugh liked her friends. With a distant voice she said, "The only people he listens to now aren't exactly on my side."
"I know. I'd just hoped otherwise." He sighed. "Do you know when you're thinking of leaving?"
She nodded towards the ship in harbour. "If I succeed, I'll be on that ship before it leaves. If I fail... well I really don't know what will happen to me then."
"Have you a plan at all? Is there anything I could do?"
A plan would be a very useful thing. She looked out over the sea but no ideas were forthcoming. "I really don't know. All I can do is try get there without anyone noticing. With Ruairí staying behind Lugh shouldn't suspect me - he knows I'd never leave without him." She choked back a sudden sob. "At least he thinks he knows that."
Footnote sat for a moment before reaching over and taking her hands in his. "You - " He clammed up, unable to make the next words come out. Instead he let the silence return and just held her.
Rua let herself rest against him for a while but it was not an indulgence that could last. "I'll be okay. But you need to leave me. Let them see you leave me. Let them think..." She shook her head. "I don't care what they think. I'll see you before the ship sails. Whatever it takes, I'll get there."
"I'll watch for you." He rose to a complete stand this time and helped her to her feet. "Good luck, Rua. I'll be there." He squeezed her hand, and turned to walk down to the port.
Rua turned the opposite direction - back to the Lough. To watch him leave was too much of a risk. Too many ways to sabotage the one thing she had finally managed to do right.

Changing Scenes, part 16: Pieces

Lemming,
I don't know how or when this will get to you, I only hope that it will. I have a problem and it would seem there is only one choice left open to me. I have to get my children off Amnor by any means necessary. I dread the trouble it is going to cause but the time has come to prove once and for all that my family comes before all else - including Armengar itself. Unfortunately it means tearing my family apart in the process but there are some areas in which I have no option but to admit defeat.
I need help. In all honesty I'm not sure if there's anything you can do. I've tried to think of ways to use the memory of Avalon we share but right now dreams are of little use to me. It is so much more difficult to make a run for it when it involves getting everyone onto a ship and waiting for them to cast off and get far enough from shore not to be reached, yet what else can I do? I am reluctant to drag Lions into this - it will only widen the rift that exists in Armengar on such matters - but if it is the only way to get my children to safety, then I must take whatever assistance I can get. Perhaps it is more acceptable for me to ask on Footnote's behalf. I'm afraid I did not think his offer to accompany me home through to the logical conclusions everyone around me has leapt to. I've put him in danger he probably doesn't even recognise. I am sure more Lions ships will arrive soon. Surely Lucas will make one more effort to talk some sense into Caoimhe? I plan to be on one when they leave - by whatever means I must. I would like to keep Footnote out of it though I suspect he will not let me - in which case I hope I can rely on whatever Lions are on that ship to get him home safe. Cosaint just spoke to me of violence in the air in that way he has. Thing is, he's not wrong. Armengar isn't Armengar unless it's fighting something
. I'm sorry. I'm not really sure what I'm asking you for - if anything. I know what I have to do now - I just don't want to do it this way. One thing is certain, if I succeed I will need my friends on the other side of this. I hope I will see you soon.
Rua

Rua read the letter a second time before feeding it under the grate to the fire she was using to prepare the children's evening meal. Even if there was a way to send it to him faster than the next ship she planned to be on herself anyway, she wasn't going to put that sort of pressure on him. But he - like all her other friends - was out there and that was enough for now.

Changing Scenes, part 17: Escape

It would be a dawn sailing and therefore a night time escape. Not exactly what Rua needed to convince herself she was doing the right thing and there really was no other option. Her stomach had never before felt so twisted in knots as when she watched this night fall knowing it would be the end of everything she once held so dear. This would change her utterly - change all of them. The children would carry the scars forever, Lugh, the hatred - even Footnote would not walk away from this unscathed. Try as she might to keep his part in it all to a minimum, the effort had come a little too late. It was a mistake to bring him here - albeit a mistake she was occasionally glad to have made. But the only one to gain from his presence was her and that wasn't a good enough reason for the pain - as unintentional as it was - that it caused. A hand slid into hers, breaking her from regretful thoughts. She looked down at her son who tried to smile back at her but couldn't muster the lie.
"It'll be okay. Once you're safe and he thinks about it he'll see it's the best thing. If I can see that then Da can too, right?"
His eyes pleaded with her. He tried so hard to a man - a soldier eager to lay down his life for home and family just as he'd been taught since birth, but sometimes his eyes revealed the child in him. The little boy looking for his mother's reassurance that everything was going to fix itself in the end and this horrible oppressive loss they all felt would one day go away.
"I hope so."
"I told Bláithín. She'll get the others ready."
Rua's breath caught. Telling Bláithín wasn't a task she was particularly anxious to complete, but one she knew would have to be done. That Ruairí beat her to it was unexpected. "You did? Is she okay?"
He hesitated just long enough to confirm to Rua that Bláithín was not at all happy. "She'll be okay. She's just scared. She knows you've all got to go." Rua recognised one of her habits in him as he bit the inside of his lip. There was more he wasn't telling. And perhaps that was best.
"Thank you." She knelt down and hugged him. "Please come with us. I need you with me, Ruairí."
He hugged her back, then smiled. "Knew you'd have to try one last time. But Da needs me more. I have to stay - I want to stay. I'm staying."
Rua held his face between both her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "You know how proud I am of you, don't you? You've grown up so well - despite the last couple of years. You be careful and do as your father says."
"I'll be okay, Ma."
"Promise me - if things get worse and there's an evacuation, you'll leave."
"Ma-"
"Promise me!"
"If Da tells me to go and Caoimhe sends Fiach away, then I'll go. But I promised Bláithín too - that I'll look after him so if he doesn't go, I can't."
Rua didn't hold much faith in Caoimhe sending her son away any time soon. Still, she nodded, accepting his terms. It was time to let him be a man. Let him make his choices, his mistakes. Let him die. "I love you, Ruairí. More than I can tell you."
"I know, Ma. I'll miss you. But we've got Delalaria to look out for us, right?"
She smiled and kissed both his cheeks before standing up. "Right." She slipped a folded sheet of paper into his hand. "For your father."
He nodded and put it straight into his pocket. "I have to go now. Make sure Da knows where I am. My friends will be making distractions but you just keep going to the ship, okay?"
Neither of them moved. They looked at one another a moment longer before quickly hugging again. Rua waited until Ruairí was running back towards the passes before allowing the tears to spill from her eyes. It took much longer for her to move from the spot, as struck as she was with the terror of never seeing her son again.

Changing Scenes, part 18: Measures

"...you need to do one more drastic thing out of your love for her..."
Lugh had dismissed Fian's words almost as soon as she walked away - what did she know of their lives anyway? She took no part in it - hell, she did her best to stay out of it altogether. But the smith had some kind of relationship with Rua's mother that meant when Rua was most in need and unable to get help from anywhere else, Fian would step in. She'd only done so once before. Fian didn't interfere lightly and that was why as soon as the next ship came in, her words began to haunt Lugh's thoughts.
"Who better to protect her than a man in love with her?"
He was in love with her but he couldn't protect her. Couldn't save her from her obsessions. Couldn't protect his family from being torn apart as they had this last year. Why should he think some fey could do better? And was he to entrust the care of his children to this other man too? And what was it that Footnote wanted? He spoke of Rua and Lugh trying to talk matters out as if he wanted to see them reunited - plain as it was he wanted to be near her too. He had to admit it was brave of him - to speak to him like that. Didn't take a genius to see the odds were very much in Lugh's favour should he have chosen to use them. Lugh groaned and tossed over onto his side in the too-short camp bed. Just his luck the fey was so much in love with her he'd do anything to make her happy - even if it meant losing her himself. How horribly noble. But maybe if he thought it would make her happy... maybe there was hope Rua would think so too.
"You left me when I needed you most..."
Was he fooling himself? He forced her to choose... and she did. He left her and she never came after him. Things were certainly not getting any better. Was letting her go now the noble thing to do? Prove once and for all that he was as good as any so-called knight. Damned if he was going to start competing for his own wife. No. He didn't need to prove anything. She would stay as duty dictated, or leave as a traitor. Let her make her choice.
"You're a good father, Lugh. That can't be what you want."
He sat up, finally accepting there would be no sleep tonight. That ship was going to leave in the morning and suddenly Lugh knew with no doubt whatsoever that Fian was right. Rua would hate him for making her and the children stay. One way or another, he would lose her tonight. Whatever slender chance that might exist to get her back, hung on whether or not the children were on that ship to supposed safety. Given past events, he wasn't convinced they were any safer out there, but Rua was right about one thing. Winter wouldn't be long in making the shelters a miserable place to live. Nor would the food last forever. Amáraiga told him all the stories she'd heard of Claw Keep. They were a people that understood the plight of the Armengarians. Perhaps Tamarus would not be so bad for the children.
He got out of bed and quickly dressed. Ruairí was in a cot beside him - despite being told to stay at the Lough, some nights he would come up to the pass anyway. Lugh would pretend to be angry at him but always he was glad to see him. Ruairí was the strongest, fastest fighter of his age and he had a true appreciation of what it meant to be Armengarian. He couldn't have been prouder. Lugh put a hand on his son's shoulder and hesitated. Did he really want to do this? Ruairí would kick up such a fuss. He could let him sleep - chances were he'd just run away like he did last time... and showing up without him would only make things worse with Rua. He shook Ruairí awake.
"Da? What time is it? It's not light yet."
"I know son." He cleared his throat. "Get up now, hurry. We have to get down to the Lough before it's too late."
Ruairí sat up, any trace of sleepiness quickly dissipating. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"No - everything's okay. But we don't have a lot of time. I'll need you to help your mother."
Ruairí frowned. "With what? Da what's going on?"
Lugh didn't want to explain it now but Ruairí's hands were gripped on the frame of the bed and he didn't seem likely to move without a good reason. He could lie to him - get him down to the Lough at least without trouble - but he'd only have to deal with it there instead. After having lied. "Listen to me now - I know you're not going to like this but you have to do it for your mother and your sisters and brother - they're going to need you to take care of them. The ship in harbour at the moment - your mother wants to take it. Only she doesn't have much time left so we need to hurry."
Ruairí's face paled. In a shallow voice he said, "Are you serious? You want us all to go?"
"I don't want you to go but your mother's right - it's safer for you all and I do want you to be safe."
"Da-"
He interrupted before Ruairí could continue his objection. "I don't want to hear any arguments, Ruairí. The ship leaves soon so we don't have any time for it. We're going to get your mother now and you're all going, understand?"
The boy was speechless, seeming almost incapable of forming words. Lugh could understand why - he never believed he'd be waking him in the middle of the night to send him away either.

Occasionally as they ran to the Lough, Ruairí would try to stop him - most likely to make his objections known, but Lugh kept them moving. Kept on running. Only when they got to the Lough and found the shelter their family had been using empty, did he stop. Gasping for breath and red-faced, Ruairí pulled his shirt to get his attention.
"Will you listen to me now, Da?"
He didn't seem at all surprised to find the camp empty. Lugh frowned, studying the boy's face. It wasn't so much the effort of running that made his face red. "What is it you have to tell me, Ruairí? Where's your mother?"
He looked out to the sky as the first swathes of a lighter coloured haze touched it. "They should be on the ship by now."
For an instant Lugh's head felt incredibly light. He reached for the nearest chair and sat down. "What are you saying? How do you know?"
Ruairí gulped. "I helped her. So you can blame me, okay? Don't blame her - she just wants the others to be safe - and she can help us better on Tamarus too."
"I can't believe this. I can't... no." He shook his head. "There's no way she'd leave without you. No way."
"She didn't want to but I made her see it was the only way - I didn't think you'd ever let them go so I helped her but I had to stay."
He just couldn't believe it... "She agreed to that?"
"She didn't think she had a choice, Da." Ruairí frowned, a pinch of anger infiltrating his tone. "I heard you told her you'd stop her. I know you had Daragh and his friends watching her so I made sure they wouldn't get in her way."
It was like having the wind knocked from him. "Ruairí - I was angry, we both were - but you must know I'd never ever do anything to hurt your mother." Liar.
Ruairí stared right at him for a few seconds, then broke off to look at the dirt on the ground. "Anyway, they're on the boat now and they'll be safe." He looked back up. "Why couldn't you have decided this yesterday? It all would have been okay then!"
"Ruairí, I'm sorry-" Lugh touched his shoulder only to be instantly brushed off as Ruairí stepped away, his anger finally coming out.
"It would have been okay! If you'd just let her go yesterday she wouldn't have had to sneak away like this and she wouldn't hate you and things would have been okay! Now she's never going to forgive you and things are never going to get better ever again!"

Lugh ran. He ran from the shelter, from the lough, from the sun beginning to rise... he already knew it was too late even before he got to where he could see the harbour and the ship being cast off and pushed out to sea. Still he ran. Too late to stop her, too late to tell her... too late. By the time he got down to the harbour, the ship was well beyond reach. He could barely make out the faces of the sailors upon her. It may have been the first rays of the sun playing tricks on him but he thought he could make out her red hair. He imagined for a moment that she saw him. He tried to think of words to say - though she would not hear them. It didn't matter. She turned away. She was gone.
"Da?"
Lugh jumped. He hadn't heard Ruairí come up behind him, so lost was he in his thoughts and his wonderings of what she was thinking right now.
"What have I done?"
Ruairí gave him a folded up sheet of paper with his name in Rua's rushed hand on it. "She left this for you. I'm gonna go help... somewhere."
Lugh held onto the note, just staring at it a long time before even realising that Ruairí was gone. Finally he opened it.

Lugh,
I'm sorry for so many things. This should never have happened to us. Maybe I didn't try hard enough back when we could have stopped it. I don't know. But believe me when I say I'm sorry. This is almost the worst possible way for it all to end but the children's safety must always come first. Even if they never forgive me for breaking our family apart. I wish I could hate you for making me do this and for leaving me no choice but to leave Ruairí behind. It would be easier if I could hate you. But I can't. Even after all of this and even though I don't think we'll ever be together again, I still love you. Please be careful. I don't need to tell you to take care of Ruairí because I already know you will but you need to take care of yourself too. For what it's worth I really hope you're right and you can get Armengar back. I really hope I'm wrong and Amnor is safe for everyone still there.
I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry for the hurt this must cause you but I can't regret it any more than you can forgive me it. They need to be safe. Nothing else matters. Not even you and me.
Rua

Changing Scenes, part 19: Visions

Footnote sat on the deck, meditating quietly. The sun was setting, turning the whole ocean into a maze of rippling red-gold flakes of light, and the wind was brisk, yet not too strong. Everything was peaceful, undisturbed. He closed his eyes, and relaxed.

* * * * *

It was dark. And cold, and wet. Footnote could taste dirt and blood in his mouth. He lay on the floor of a forest, and all his body ached as if beaten. Not quite certain as to what was happening, he raised his head from the floor. Everything seemed hazy, and as he sat up the world seemed to rock gently, as if it were uncertain about its rightful place. He couldn't see, either: the trees and rocks were unfocused, blurry. He shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs that seemed to be infesting it, and tried to stand. As he straightened his sense of balance left him and he fell flat again, landing in a patch of briars. He swore quietly to himself. And then swore again, just to check. Nothing. He couldn't hear anything; either that or he could only hear the roaring silence ringing in his ears from-
-the ritual circle-
-"Rua!" he screamed noiselessly into the silence. Everything shot back into his head at once: the ritual, the secret arrangements, the last minute changes of plans. And yet the Conclave found them anyway. There had been a blinding flash of light - and then nothing. Why was he fifty feet from the circle?
He barely noticed the devastation as he scrambled back to the circle itself. The seal was gone, that was for certain. The nearby trees were dead: all their leaves and bark blasted off by the wave of magic unleashed. Bodies lay in the circle, some twisted to unnatural angles by the force of the blast. And there, in the centre, was the sight that made every nerve in his body jolt. He was at her side instantly, to reassure her that it was alright; that the Healers would be with them soon; that there was nothing to worry about.
He reached over and nudged her shoulder, but with no response. His heart was pounding so furiously it felt as if there were some creature raging inside him, yet he rolled her over gently-dreading to look and yet somehow knowing what he'd see.
Rua's eyes were shut. A thin trail of blood ran from her nose and mouth, pooling gently in the wet leaves where she lay. His hand shuddered to his mouth for a moment. Think! he screamed at himself. For a moment he barely remembered to breathe and gasped air into his lungs. Kneeling down in the mud next to her he held her body tightly and began to chant softly, a last prayer to Celestial for aid.
The words began to echo in his ears as his lips formed each syllable; his hearing was returning slowly. He felt Celestial's power gently running through his hands, but the prayer tasted like bitter ash in his mouth. Still he kept chanting, clinging to a forlorn hope that he wasn't too late.
He was still praying minutes later when Bethanie knelt in front of him, shaking her head sadly. Her words slowly pierced the fog in his mind, "I'm so sorry," she was saying. "She's gone. She's at rest now." Slowly, the chant stopped. Bethanie lay a hand on his arm, and he began to grieve.

* * * * *

"Dammit!" Footnote spat through clenched teeth. He'd always hated the Underdark, and yet here they were again, fighting by the light of torches in support of the Tarantulas as they struggled to contain yet another incursion of the Unliving. Strange, he thought. They have so many vampires and other things in their own ranks, that I wonder why they feel the need to exterminate these. Still, there wasn't that much time to think about these things: another pack of ghouls charged into the flickering light. A rank of incantors stepped forward, praying to whatever ancestors they followed, and the ghouls fell back, disintegrating before they even touched the floor. Following on their heels, a whole phalanx of other minor Unliving shambled on, and the Lions' formation quickly changed - suddenly presenting a wall of shields and spears, driving the Unliving back once again. The line had held for half an hour of continuous assault, but no one quite knew how much more of this they could take. It would need just one concerted push in the right place and things would fall apart.
And there it was, on the left. Somehow, behind the shambling mass, someone had managed to conceal a group of truly terrifying creatures: bandages and leather strapping held the mummies together, and the nauseating smell of the embalming fluids made him want to retch. "Come on," Footnote shouted to the small group of reserves, and sprinted for the left flank, which was crumbling before his eyes. The fight was close-in and brutal. Footnote and the others arrived just as the shield wall started to back away, and hurled themselves onto the enemy, but there were just too many of them to beat back. A cloaked figure stepped forward, shrieking an insane babble, and suddenly a black terror seized the whole line of troops. Footnote and several others yelled encouragement, but the rout had already started, and spread like wildfire across the whole flank. He gestured to the cloaked figure and screamed