After their abrupt departure from the negotiations, the diplomatic party rides off in silence. When Kyria Orevo calls the convoy to a halt a half mile outside of town, Lauryn thinks that Skotonys is a bit surprised. Afentis Befitha definitely is, and angry enough to make her attitude plain. "We are staying? After that insult?"
"We will give the Yemenos an opportunity to make amends for their error," the kyria answers. "Archon Tharsi, see that camp is made here."
"Amends? Their city should be razed for this!" Befitha seethes. Archon Tharsi doesn't look any happier than she does, and he hasn't obeyed the kyria's order yet.
"That will be for dynatos tyr to decide. We are here to pursue peace, not war."
Archon Ulifi, the diplomatic adviser on militatry affairs, speaks up. "Kyria, one might consider departure. The Yemenos would not suspect enosi of killing an envoy if they were not willing to do the same themselves."
The Laos Enosi have strict hierarchies, and Lauryn's rarely seen an underling so much as question a command before. But this argument goes on for a solid quarter of an hour before the kyria insists on obedience. "Enough. Charge of this mission is given to me, and me alone. We camp here."
No one argues after that. Lauryn notices that no one spoke in favor of the kyria's plan, either, though.
The Yemenos don't send anyone out before nightfall. Lauryn retires to sleep in the tent she shares with several of the fox women from the group's armed escort.
And wakes in the night to the cry of alarm and the clash of weapons. "To arms! The treacherous emene attack! To arms!"
Lauryn had slept lightly that night, for her suspicions about the death of the envoys and the attack pointed to potential assassination in the night. And so, when the alarm rang out, the young Gallah woman's eyes snapped open, and she sat up quickly wide awake. "I knew it," she says in her native tongue, Rephidim Standard, with such vehemence it sounds like a curse. Quickly she assesses her clothing choices, having made plans for just such an occurence. "If only they had let me speak, if only!"
Around her, female warriors are rousing, some pulling on armor and others just going for their weapons. Lauryn has one of her traveling outfits near at hand, and it takes her less time to throw it on than to armor herself. So she is one of the first prepared when the sound of charging feet rushes to the tent, and the leather wall of on her side is slashed open by the long swipe of a chitin-bladed polearm. She glimpses a mounted drokar running past as it falls, then a flight of arrows lit fitfully by torches, raining inwards.
"Flaming arrows!" Lauryn shouts her wraning to her fellow Laosians, hoping they'll speed their preperations in time to abandon the tend. She doesn't expect the arrows will pierce the leather, nor that the flames will endanger them much, but exiting may send them right in to a ambush. As she watches the flickering flames sail inward, she is reminded to prepare her own weapon -- but hesitates. She isn't sure force is the ultimate answer to what has happened, but she recognizes she may need to defend herself.
Grasping the screaming wind, that font of magic that is born from ambient magic energy and the fear of mortal men, Lauryn pulls her power to herself. She graps only modestly, intent on making of herself a fearsome visage to detere any would-be attackers.
The sliced-open leather wall of the tent is crumples to the ground. One of the Laosians barks a command, and the women -- regardless of their state of dress -- evacuate. It's a surprisingly orderly withdrawal, in response to gestures from the squad leader: half head out through the open wall, crouched behind shields, and the other half leave by the open door.
As the magic builds and coagulates in the space around her, the shadows draw closer to Lauryn's feet. At first it simply seems as though Lauryn's fire-cast shadow were too long, then too wide, but soon the shadow crawls up her leg like blood running backwards. The shadow climbs, enveloping her in the guise of the night, inky and inpenetrable, and yet still it continues. From her back, two great shadowy wings erupt, bat like. Her hands elongate in to terrible thin claws, and her face becomes a snarl of too many teeth. Horns shoot from her head and back, while her tail becomes serpentine, ending sharp and needle-like. When the form completes, the shadow draws in to her nightmare body, revealing the monsterous form in color. Eyes, large, luminous, and like a beast, glare from the many folds of her wings, casting a baleful red light that is matched by her own eyes. Her fur is black, and bloodied, her nails covered and dripping, as if having recently flayed someone. She looks at her new hand, and nods. It s
... It should do.
Burning arrows thunk into the shields of the warriors leaving the tent. They fall to the ground at Lauryn's feet, or in the abandoned bedding around her. Most of the fires don't catch, but two of the mats do start burning. Lauryn can't see any enemies, but she can hear the clash of fighting to the north of the camp.
Lauryn watches the fire smolder a moment -- just watches. She isn't sure why, but something about it draws her attention, makes her a little heady with the sound of fighting all around, of people screaming, maybe dying. Then she blinks, looking at her horrible hand again. The fear is so close like this, she realizes, it is one thing to create isityros, so much different to wear them ... The sobering thought does nothing to lessen the creeping fascination with death, destruction, and ultimately the horror it breeds. Lauryn shakes her head to snap herself out of her thoughts, and strides towards the sound of battle. I hope the Laosians recognize my power and fight accordingly. She certainly would prefer not to be stabbed by her own allies.
I must find the Archon, Lauryn thinks. Her suspicions are useless unless she has some support from at least him.
As she goes through the door, she hears a scream in the darkness off to her left. Arrows whiz past her as she heads for the sound of the most fighting. They go through her illusory wings and tail, but fortunately none hits the real -- and unarmored -- Lauryn.
The fighting appears concentrated around the tent of the lead diplomats. The Yemenos are wearing their barbarian-masked helmets and rough armor, most of them mounted on drokars and using polearms or swinging great axes. The Laosian warriors all have mounts, Lauryn knows, but most of them are presently on foot and trying to throw back the marauders.
Lauryn silently debates the virtures of the Archon's insistence that she would be no safer wearing armor as she proceeds. While her nightmares may sunder a mind, even a body, they offer little direct protection. She tries not to think about what being hit with a burning arrow might feel like. When she comes upon the sight of the maraiders, she pauses and assesses the situation. In particular, she debates assisting while trying to get a look at the attackers -- she would be unsurprised if they were actually foreigners dressed up like the Yemenos warriors.
It's hard to tell much about the attackers in this poor light, but Lauryn can tell that they do have fur, and don't have the luxurious tails of foxes, which rules out being Laosians in disguise. As she watches, she can see that the battle isn't going well for the defenders. To one side of the tent, Archon Skotonys is being pressed by two mounted Yemenos. He dodges between their drokars; he tries to take one of the mounts down with a swipe from his blades, but the strike is deflected by the animal's barding.
Seeing the Archon in danger is far more than enough to convince Lauryn to act. She may have greater suspicions and wish to avoid excess violence to avoid further destroying the political situation, but she'd see the city burn before she'd let the Archon die. She extends her hands outward -- she has found gestures help her focus -- and her wings mirror her gesture. Mouthes erupt across her body, chattering and whispering terrible deeds, fates, and tortures as Lauryn refocuses her magical efforts.
When Lauryn's grasp on her magic reaches critical mass, she swings a hand forward in an attacking gesture sweep. All at once her nightmare body shatters in to a thousand fragments as its energy is diverted to a new purpose, black, bloody shards sailing forward like the grisely remains of a sundered demon. They fall about the attackers and defenders, twitching and writhing, then begin to form hands and limbs, crawling over fighters and up mount legs. They shift, inconstant, little fragmented protean horrors that interfere and frighten, avoding the Laosians entirely but seeking the attackers with ganshing maws, clawing hands, and maddened eyes that never blink.
The drokars go mad, keening and rearing back in terror. Their riders struggle to maintain their seats. Some of them manage to get their mounts to back away rather than plunging in blind panic, but others fall amidst the dream-monsters. The Laosians stay calmer, but are not exactly calm: few are willling to press their advantage. Archon Skotonys is one who is: he skewers one of his Yemenos opponents after the emene falls from a terrified mount.
Lauryn finds herself briefly annoyed at the hesitance, so much so she acts without thinking and actually barks and order! "Do not hesitate, forward! While you have the advantage, follow the Archon!" She keeps her hand extended forward, using it as a focus, feeling the strain and the miasma of dark feelings that come whenever she uses her magic. Her focus is such that while she can bark an order in irritation, she almost misses an important detail: "And spare one, keep one alive!"
The strain of maintaining focus is all-too-real, and in that instant of annoyance, she finds her concentration wavering. The monsters she's summoned to torment the Yemenos stop discriminating between emene and Laosian, and go after everyone equally. Only Skotonys is spared. He cuts through the enemy warriors around him, while Archon Thirys is barking commands to his troops to rally. "Ignore the spirits! They will not harm you! Get the emene!" His resolve is commendable, if hard to believe when the spirits are assaulting his own people, too.
Lauryn inwardly curses her own mistake, realizing too late her emotions can cause the isityros to strike out against her will. Do they feed ... so much ... on any ill wishing, she thinks as she strains and focuses, finding herself surprised even slight ire caused them to lash out. Leashing demon spirits is no job for those less than of iron will, but she pushes on. I must manage anyway, iron willed or no.
As she redoubles her efforts, the isityros waver. All of them -- those attacking Yemenos and Laosian alike -- pause while she tries to get them back under control. After several long moments, the ones attacking her allies stop, allowing themselves to be brushed off or aside. Those on the Yemenos resume their efforts, with somewhat less evident enthusiasm. The Yemenos are driven back during the turmoil, but the attack hasn't stopped: arrows are raining down on the camp from beyond the circle of torchlight. Laosian warriors take shelter under shields as best they can, or hide beneath the tent overhangs. The ceramic tile roofs of the tents provide good cover from arrows. Lauryn might consider cover herself.
With the horsemen seemingly routed, Lauryn decides to dismiss her isityros and take a moment to both take cover and rest for the battle ahead. She hurries after the Archon so she can take cover with him and discuss her concerns. With so much going on, this may be her only chance.
Dismissing the isityros is easy to desire, but harder to do. Some of them go away when she wills it, but others remain. She feels her control over them splintering, and they start taking different shapes from the ones she willed for them. One turns into an orderly. Another into a giant leech. A third into a harpy with the face of her stepmother. Skotonys is sheltering behind one of the tents. He's looking towards the road; in a moment, she can hear the sound of running drokar coming towards them along it.
Lauryn has to slow her approach to the Archon in order to keep fighting her own magical powers. She grits her teeth and refuses to be afraid of them, finding, at least, her fear of the isityros has faded greatly with exposure and practice. But while they may not scare her, she knows they will seek others, and she cannot let them run rampant in their already embattled camp.
"Reinforcements!" a voice cries. "On the road!"
"Kyria, we must retreat!" another says. Ulifi? "The Yemenos already outnumber us, and more are on the way. Give the order, abandon the camp."
Archon Skotonys picks up a shield from one of the fallen Laosians, and creeps out from behind the cover of the tent to move towards the road as Lauryn approaches him from behind. Her head aches viciously from the effort of trying to control her demons, but it's working: more of them are fading out. Unfortunately, that also means the Yemenos attackers who'd fallen back are advancing again.
There's little she can do about the returning attackers; Lauryn decides if she withdraws with the Laosians then she'll release the isityros on the remaining Yemenos and leave them to do as they will as a cover for their escape. For now, she edges over to the Archon and takes cover beside him. "Archon, Ria Vetyros suspects another party at work here. If Ria were to spark a war, an attack at night and an assassination seems the greatest way. But Ria sees Yemenos, and many: so Ria thinks the Yemenos may have been provoked. Archon, Ria feels we must know why they attacked, if they suffered casualties by Laosian hand, or if some other plot is afoot," she whispers as quickly and as precisely as she is able.
Skotonys heard her; she can tell by his nod. He continues moving, taking cover behind a tree as he reaches the edge of the road. Lauryn hears a voice call out from the oncoming group. It's in Yemenen, so she can't understand it, but the tone doesn't sound like a battlecry. More interrogative, like a question or a demand. Behind her, she hears Thirys order one group of warriors to go after the Yemenos archers in the woods, and a second to go to the road and drive back the reinforcements.
"That Yemenos, he sounds like he's question us Archon. Ria can't understand him, but Ria feels we must communicate with the Yemenos if we are to avoid a war," Lauryn insists. "We must locate our translator."
Skotonys turns his head from the road to Lauryn, considering. "Pilis," he says after an instant's thought. "She was in the main tent. Get her. Now!" The Laosian soldiers are gathering to attack the newcomers even as he speaks. The initial raiding party has fallen back into the woods; arrows are still falling into the camp, claiming some victims.
Lauryn nods and then she's off running for the tent, keeping her head down. She really reconsiders the use of armor during this time. Her new found Laosian dignity finds running with her head down beneath her, but she ignores it, deciding she prefers life to dignity. "Pilis," she cries as she approaches the tent, forgoing her title -- a demonstration of the desperation of the moment. "Pilis, we must go to the front! Now!"
Afentis Pilis is cowering inside the tent, wide-eyed with fright. Nearby, Ulifi is pulling the kyria by the hand out through the back flap, telling her to get to the remaining drokars and run.
Lauryn rushes inside and immediately heads for the Afentis. She ignors the kyria, having found her easily riled and too combative for her role as diplomatic envoy; thus a liability she won't waste her time on in such an important moment. "Afentis," she breathes, panting. "Afentis we must go." She drops to her haunches and takes the scholar's hand, tugging her to follow. "Archon Skotonys and Ria Vetryros require your expertise at the front -- we must translate the Yemenos party before either side engages, or Ria fears more will be lost than this. Far more!"
Pilis blinks at Lauryn, not really seeming to understand her. But when the Gallee takes her hand, Pilis nods and follows her, hurrying outside the tent with her.
The human woman screams at the arrows still falling around them, but Lauryn's luck holds and none strike the pair. They get back to the road to find Skotonys urging restraint as the Laosian warriors prepare to engage the oncoming party.
Lauryn squeezes the other woman's hand, finding it odd she should be a source of comfort once again. To Lauryn, comfort and security seem like the last thing she can give anyone, except maybe by terrifying their foes with demons and monsters. Once she reaches the Archon, she helps the Afentis in to cover and explains the situation, "Afentis, we -- I, Ria -- suspect the treachery of a third party in this conflict. We must be sure. The Afentis must speak with the Yemenos for us, so that we may attempt to uncover the truth."
At first, Pilis seems to terrified to understand what Lauryn's just said. Then Lauryn feels the human squeeze her hand in return. "Do not attack!" she shouts, in a surprisingly strong voice, just as the Laosian archers have finished readying their bows. She says something else in the Yemenen tongue. The Yemenos are visible by torchlight, which gives the Laosians an advantage, since they're outside of the light of the camp but can see their well-lit enemies. The Yemenos reinforcements aren't attacking, however.
After a minute's worth of tense conversation, half of the group from the Yemenos side break off and fan into the woods beside them. "Stand down," Pilis commands. "They're not here to fight. A Yemenen farm was attacked by a group of men pretending to be Laosians. The Third recognized them as imposters and anticipated treachery."
When Lauryn hears the news she breathes a sigh of relief, dropping down to lean against the tree. She had been so tense so long she had forgotten about it, and with the sudden news she finds herself more tired than she expected. "So it is as Ria thought. The Third is a wise man to also anticipate this event -- we should speak with him as soon as possible to salvage the situation and examine the evidence for clues as to who would instigate this," she says to her fellows.
"The night's work is not yet done." Archon Skotonys offers Lauryn and Pilis a short bow, and then he disappears into the woods.
There's more confusion still: back and forth between Pilis and Thirys over whether or not the Yemenos should be trusted, and a search for Ulifi and Orevo and some others who are missing. But no fresh fighting between the two sides breaks out.
Several of the Laosian warriors and more of the servants were killed or wounded in the raid, although all of the diplomats escaped with nothing worse than superficial injuries.
For her part, Lauryn tries to make herself present during any talks. She remembers what the Yemenos woman said, that she must be an important person if she, alone, accompanies the true people of Laos Enosi. Thus, she recognizes her place as a representative of Laosian trust towards a foreigner, and may then offer some comfort to the Yemenos. But beyond this simple act of presence, she tries to take a active part in negotiations this time. While not her place, she knows she saw this event coming and the others did not -- she will not risk going unheard again and risking the Tyr's plans. In particular, she attempts to locate the Third. While she suspects he will doubt her ability because she is a woman, she is prepared to show him her strength. More importantly, she must learn what he has found and plumb him for his supicions. There is an enemy hiding behind the armies, and she will not fail the Tyr by ignoring it, propriety or no.