A Tyrant Spell Has Bound Me [[Fiona]]

[Chris]

Without the allure of their winged enemy to distract Murdock, he was able to lean against Fiona and hobble away, only to be set down a short while later. And not before time either, Murdock's brief walk without his stick had not been received well by his leg and he was going to need to visit a Yellow, get some herbs to soothe the limb. An idle thought for another time, when they were faced with less pressing issues such as imminent death.

"I'm afraid as well," he said, though it was more going through the motions and saying what he thought he ought to say, than how he truly felt. It was all very matter of fact. "You are so brave Giselle, that shot was quite extraordinary... yes let's sit down. I'll just lie here." Murdock found being horizontal far preferable to being vertical, so he lay down and put his head on Giselle's lap because, well, it was Giselle and he needed some rest. The black and white world around him was disagreeing with him, everything wobbling ever so slightly to the Brown, and once his head was down Murdock saw no reason to bother trying to move any more.

His arms prickled as Giselle embraced Saidar, and he lay there obediently as per her instructions as she channelled on him.

It was as if a fine veil of mist and shadows was lifted from the man. The world returned to its natural colourful hues, or as colourful as dirt and dull sky possibly could. A sense of clarity and a shrewdness Murdock was not aware he had lacked, returned to him, as his injury was Healed (and he did not lose his memory/sight/ability to taste sugar/knowledge of tying knots - you're welcome Marla). Blinking his dark brown eyes a few times Murdock sat up, giving Fiona a quizzical look. "Of course I know who you are," he said matter of factly, his eyes fixing on her. "Thank you for the Healing but this is no time for lying down."

Seizing Saidin, Murdock weaved thick flows of Air to create a walking stick, hauling himself up and shrugging away any offers of assistance. He was limpy, not broken. "The Shadow is very close. Be wary." He could feel the wrongness like a second skin, and he wanted to wash it all away, but they had to get back to Hama Valon first. Once they had the space he could create a Gateway, but he knew right then that time was not a luxury they had.

Indeed, only seconds after the pair of them were on their feet did the trollocs burst out from the other side of the fallen tents and shrubbery, half a dozen of them. Murdock was no master of battle weaves and never was a violent channeller, and the first thing that came to mind was a Ward. Perhaps it was too much time near Jaryd, the curly-haired philanderer, but Spirit was always Murdock's strength and this is what he used now. Spirit weaved with Air and Fire formed a dome around them, and the trollocs that ran into it were thrown back, points of contact singed and burned. It wasn't as effective as one of Jaryd's weaves, Murdock wasn't particularly good at them either, but he had a few tricks from being an Asha'man, and it was safer than Rending them one at a time.

The slight issue here was that, as Murdock tied off the weave, they were sitting ducks. There was no room for him to safely make a Gateway, and they would be cut down before they could get outside, make a Gateway, and escape. Murdock knew he was no warrior. Furthermore, his weaves would clash with the ward he had made. "Fiona, this ward will keep the trollocs out, but not projectiles. That works both ways as well. Can you use your bow?"

That was not going to be enough though, and Murdock knew it. The Brown uneasily kneeled down, rested his hands against the earth, and tried to do some of that Earthsinging people raved on about and that their esteemed M'Hael was so good at. When was the last time he'd done anything like this? Ugh, it was so dry and flat and dead and boring, nothing like delving into a human at all! He couldn't tell much of anything beyond "here be dirt", and it didn't take Saidin to know that.

[Sunny]

The creatures that approached from the ruins of the camp were indeed the stuff of nightmares. She vaguely remembered thinking about the size of Trollocs while speaking to Murdock earlier that very day; her mind had been unable to comprehend exactly how big the twisted beasts were. As they pushed their way through broken tent poles and tattered canvas they erased all trace of the relief Fiona had felt at seeing the mist of confusion dissolve from Murdock’s eyes. The Andoran felt her own eyes get wider and wider, her jaw start to chatter, her hands twist into her skirts, and her trembling feet stumble backward before she was even properly able to think. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. I’m going to die. Light, mama, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry papa…I love you, I’m sorry...

Something struck the Shadowspawn….or perhaps they struck it. Light sparked and wisps of smoke flared in the air as animalistic forms in pieced together plate armor bounced back as if they had hit a wall. The novice simply stared, face whiter than the clouds above. She could feel something moving next to her but could not understand what it was; could hear muffled sound as if through a great deal of water. Blue eyes watched in utter fascination as another gargantuan body collided with the invisible wall and was thrown back. I’m sorry.

Comforting warmth wrapped around her shoulders, then shook her gently. That caused the monsters to tip and swing oddly in her vision, and then abruptly her view of them was blocked entirely. A man had knelt in front of her. Fiona blinked, staring at Murdock in abject confusion. He looked worried. Not as he had after the explosion, where his face had been masked by Asha'man calm, but truly concerned...about her? Or something else?

She realized the warmth on her shoulders was his hands only when he moved them, reaching down, then back up to press her bow into her fingers. "You need to use this," he said. She stared at him blankly. "Fiona, please." What? An entirely different kind of shock flooded her and the world came back into focus once more in a startling pop of sound. He said please?

Fiona had no time to think about what had just happened. Her fingers tightened around the bow, pulling it from the Asha'man's grasp as she methodically, though rapidly, checked the weapon for damage. Once complete she met the Keeper's eyes again, giving him an uncertain smile. "Thank you, Murdock."

Once he stood she closed her eyes, envisioning the flame that her father had taught her. A moment later the peace of the Void filled her; only then did she dare look again at the monsters beyond Murdock’s Ward. They were big, they were ugly, and they wore roughly shaped plate armor. The armor was scary, but she could see chinks and gaps where it did not quite fit properly, and only one wore a visor.

They can’t get in. Until they got the idea to start throwing things, anyway, which meant Fiona’s time was short. She put an arrow to the string and swung her bow up, pulled fletching to cheek, and released. Down, another arrow, up, draw, release. She was grateful for the Borderlander arrows she had scavenged; the slender southern arrows she had brought would have been useless.

One of the Trollocs stumbled and fell, much to Fiona’s detached pride, but something seemed off about the creature she next aimed at. She squinted at it and realized that one of the arrows in its shoulder could not possibly have come from her bow. Had it been there all along? Even as she watched, the beast staggered sideways as a second feathered shaft thumped into the gap between shoulder plate and helmet.

“We have company.”

[Chris]

Fiona did recover from her moment of... well... Murdock could only attribute her reaction to the whole day's events catching up with her. It wasn't her fault. Really, she had handled herself rather well all things considered, and he didn't think any less of her for a moment of letting it catch up with her. But now they had gotten past this moment and really all Murdock could do was stand back and let her fire the arrows. There was a seriousness about the situation that he could not deny, but was it wrong of him to take some time to appreciate the concentration on her face as she fired arrows through his ward? Smooth motions with her arms, gracefully putting another arrow on the bow, no fear. Only a weapon in operation, and it was beautiful.

But Murdock was aware of his surroundings and not about to get too relaxed when there were trollocs nearby, so when the new arrows came in he was aware of the source. A group of soldiers to their east, firing from range, not many of them but enough to add to their army of one (and a Murdock). Relief battered against the void and the Keeper smiled, a small sigh escaping him. "Thank the Light," He murmured, the blessing foreign on his tongue from a lack of use. There was no use in thanking the Light or the shadow for Murdock, both of them were quite intent on throwing him into bother, but at least the Shadow let him perform his research without getting up in arms about things like "Morals" and "Missing persons". It was really better for everyone.

"Cease fire!" one of the men called, and Murdock put a hand to Fiona's arm to make her lower the bow. "It's alright," he said, "it's over now." At least, it was over for the trollocs. Once the arrows ceased firing, the small band of men galloped on in on their mounts, unrecognisable colouration meaning they had to be from a different camp. Wherever they came from, Murdock was pleased to see that the trollocs were suitably afraid, as they turned and ran. That meant there was no Eyeless nearby, thank the... well, thank someone. Luck. Providence. Whatever, the trollocs were falling back and being slain, so he and Fiona were safe. That was the main thing.

He let down the ward when it was safe to do so, moving to sit on a nearby rock as it was preferable to standing on his unhappy leg, but he still held onto Saidin. Just in case a trolloc thought to sneak from behind or something, though they were cowardly enough that that ought to not be an issue. The Far Madding man watched, intrigued but otherwise calm, as the group finished up with the trollocs and made their way over. Their uniforms were grubby but distinctly orange, and the insignia adorning their mounts and their armour was of no House Murdock was familiar with. Borderlander from the way they carried themselves. The leader of the party dismounted with practised ease, and when he spoke up Murdock was able to confirm they were Shienaran.

"Asha'man," he said with a bow of the head. "We were to meet your scouts, but they never arrived. We came to the camp to investigate and you two are the only folk alive that we can find."

Murdock waved a hand from where he was sitting, not bothering to stand. "It was a bubble of evil. A razor along the entire camp." He released Saidin as he stood, but only because he wanted to be near to Fiona. She'd been through enough and the last thing she needed as the scrutiny of the man in orange looked down at her curiously. "We have both been through quite enough for one day. I will be taking G-Fiona here back to the Grey Tower, and I will send a report of what happened if you can give me your outpost details." Murdock rested a hand on Fiona's shoulder, not quite protectively but... well, maybe it was a little protective.

[Sunny]

Fiona had seen Trakand troops practice before, but had never witnessed an actual fight; even when the Seanchan attacked she had not been present for the actual battle, only the aftermath.Thus she lowered her bow at Murdock’s command and watched in morbid fascination as the newcomers dispatched the Trollocs. The Shadowspawn didn’t look quite so large next to mounted soldiers, but they were still monstrous enough that she could find beauty in the calculated movements it took to bring them down without feeling like a terrible person.

Murdock had found a seat a little distance away; Fiona went to join him, though the leader of the new group rode up just then and interrupted her progress. The Andoran had no idea what House he represented, and didn’t bother trying to remember. Someday that would be important; that particular day was not the one. Instead she listened curiously to his exchange with the Asha’man as she removed the string from her bow and stowed it in her belt and the weapon on her back.

To her surprise, Murdock came to join her. She glanced up at him, surprised despite herself, but did not pull away when he put his hand on her shoulder. After being so afraid the contact and reassurance felt good. Who was she to pretend it didn’t? She could almost hear Synthia tutting in her mind. If not for him I would be dead twice over, she thought, a little dazed and a little annoyed at the same time. Three times over, perhaps...and he’s still looking out for me. She didn’t want to think about why, and therefore she didn’t.

Her thoughts kept her busy while the stranger spoke to the Keeper about outpost details and other such information. She had nothing of worth to add and therefore she remained silent until the top-knotted Shienaran (how had red-haired Ravak Darrow ever come from this land?) left them alone.

“Did everyone in this camp die, truly?” she asked soberly. It seemed so from what the two had been saying, but she needed the confirmation. Upon receiving it, she heaved a sigh and scrubbed at her face, pushing snarled curls back and squaring her shoulders. “Then we are truly lucky,” she said, reflecting uncomfortably upon what she knew of the dice in her head. “May the last embrace of the Mother welcome them home.”

Speaking of home...the Grey Tower sounded lovely, but Traveling took time to do, didn’t it? After a moment of consideration she led Murdock back to the rock. “Sit down,” she said insistently. “I know all about your leg now, Murdock. Don’t make me knock you over and force the issue.” Although her tone was teasing, her eyes and touch were gentle and caring.

They would go home soon and then she could muse all she liked on Bubbles of Evil, the name Giselle, and the nature of Murdock’s behavior. Somehow she didn’t think she would find many answers to those questions within the confines of her mind.