Please, the Blind Bard begged the Healer standing fore him. Please, save her.

See her:

The Healer: Micki of Babylon, she of no blood, say true. Loyal of heart and quick of mind, she of many secret talents, say true, say true.

The Blind Bard felt her fear and the tumult of her mind, yet still her shoulders squared fore him; she had her duty, say true, and she would not turn from it.

And so the Healer went to work upon le Fay, feeling upon her belly and looking deep into her eyes and mouth. How le Fay resented this stranger’s hands upon her! Say true, how the Blind Bard longed to send Micki away and leave his dog in peace! Yet he felt the Dragon’s Breath still heavy upon both himself and his dog and he knew they must endure the Healer’s strange ways if they were to be well.

The Blind Bard felt himself slipping into the darkness of restless sleep, yet even as he trusted the Healer to her work he could not let his guard down just yet. Instead he studied the Noir.

See him:

The Noir: Hugo of Babylon, he of the Brooke blood, say true. Short and slow, yet with a true heart and fire in his belly. Greatest of the allies, he who would become as a brother to the Blind Bard, say true, say true.

How wide his eyes were as first he spied the Blind Bard! Say true, how quick his heart beat on sight of this man so different from himself! Yet even as the Healer went about her work and the Blind Bard comforted le Fay the Noir did not run from them as he could have done; so the Blind Bard first began to think could be these outsiders, these people so far from the wisdom of the Architects, say true, were not so unlike him.

The Blind Bard thought back on the first People of the Shore he and le Fay had met as they lurked fore the great wall. Say true, how quickly they had come! Darkness had fallen on the ruins and the Blind Bard felt he could wait no longer to approach the wall when he saw the five riders launch from their nest in the wall.

The Blind Bard hunkered low atop his hill and watched them approach. What steeds they rode he did not know; they were machines, he saw, but never had he seen such as these. They flew over the hardpacked ash round the wall, silent as a whisper even to le Fay’s keen ears, and moved as one toward the Blind Bard’s hill.

He had some sense then of the people he was to meet, say true; how sharp their eyes must be to spot him so far off! And how true their sight to find him in the dark! The Blind Bard donned his pack and tied it tight to his aching body. He moved le Fay away from the wagon and found a spot for them to wait amid tall weeds and sharp stones. They settled low and the Blind Bard Sang out, near-dead as he was, say true, and caught the riders as they soared ever closer. When they reached the base of his hill they dismounted and creeped toward him in the night and set le Fay’s ears to twitch as they rustled leaves and crunched rocks neath their heavy boots.

They Blind Bard settled low as he could overtop his dog and dared not even breath as the riders moved round them.

O’Malley, one of the riders’ voice rang out and caused the Blind Bard’s heart near to stop. Can we get a confirmation on location?

There was silence, then, til the Blind Bard heard the snickers of the other riders slither round him.

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, mumbled the first rider, so close now to the Blind Bard’s side. Fan out, standard formation.

The riders moved further up the hill, toward where the wagon lay abandoned, and still the Blind Bard waited. When all but one of the riders had moved a ways from where he lay overtop le Fay, the Blind Bard knew his time had come.

As the final rider paused near him, the Blind Bard creeped over the ground as a shadow til he stood behind the small, dark-clad man. He lashed out, smashing his great arms against the riders back and the man lay in the weeds at his feet. He tore off the rider’s great, black helmet and Sang into him, learning what he needed to make his way beyond the great wall. Never had the Song been so hard to call! Say true, never had the Blind Bard struggled to find his way into another, never had he felt weak as he did now.

When the rider had given him all he’d had to give, the Blind Bard stood over him and felt his heart grow soft. Here was a man wanting to protect his home; say true, was he any different from the Blind Bard himself? He had never known the touch of the Architects, say true, yet still the Blind Bard thought their hearts were alike as they could be. The Blind Bard struck him fore he could reach for his terrible weapon, yet he was too late to escape the gazes of the remaining riders.

They cried out and drew their weapons, yet already the Blind Bard had scooped le Fay into his arms and was racing toward the fallen rider’s mount. He brought the machine to life as the rider had shown him and launched into the night toward the wall and the land beyond. Yet the remaining riders were quick and their weapons mighty, say true; the Blind Bard heard the roar of their guns as they fired upon him and felt the searing pain dig into his arm and back. Still his course was true and he did not slow, say true, say true.

As he drew close to the wall he heard the great bells split the night air and saw even greater machines than the riders’ mounts rise up fore him. The rider had warned him of this; he leapt from his stolen mount and trudged on toward the wall even as the great machines shot forth great beams of light and set the mount ablaze behind him.

A great window loomed fore him and he knew nothing to do but crash through it. The shards of glass cut deep into his many-colored skin, say true, yet still his course was true. Even as the pain from his wounds cut through him with each step, even as the Dragon’s Breath made each gasp of air a struggle, the Blind Bard tore through the great wall of the People of the Shore til he came to his goal.

How vast the wall had been! Say true, never had the Blind Bard seen as many great halls and corridors twisting and winding as snakes round him. The terrible bells still sang out all round him and his head so clouded and his body so tired, say true, say true, yet the rider had taught him well and he knew the way out of this great coldiron maze.

His blood flowed warm from his wounds and trailed behind him as he made his way through the wall, and soon enough he’d forgotten what it was to feel le Fay in his numb arms or the cold floor neath his dead feet. The rider had shown him the door and it stood bright as day in the Blind Bard’s muddled mind, yet each step between here and there would cost him more than he knew he had to give.

After a lifetime of roaming those cold, long halls the Blind Bard finally felt himself grow close to the door which led to the Land of the People of the Shore. He came across a young woman about to leave the wall behind her and a guard sworn to protect the great door. The Blind Bard Sang out as best he could and compelled them to let him through, yet the woman was strong no matter her youth and she struggled mightily against the Blind Bard’s Song. And the guard! How he fought tooth and nail against the Blind Bard! Say true, how strong of mind he was! How well he had been trained, how deeply he believed in his cause! Yet the Blind Bard would fall fore he abandoned his quest while he stood only steps away from his goal, say true, and he dragged the guard beneath the waves of his sweet Song.

The woman bid the door open and the guard made it so.

The great door opened fore him and he rushed forward, le Fay and her young seeming now a thousand stones weighing heavy in his ruined arms. Yet the guard was quick and armed as the riders; he too drew his terrible weapon and he too fired upon the Blind Bard fore he could leave the wall behind him. Again he felt the white-hot pain shoot through his back and felt his shoulder tear open as it was grazed.

Fore him he saw the blinding lights of the Land of the People of the Shore and he ran on, say true, no matter his pain nor his sorrows. He rushed through the door and found himself sprinting in cool air, not sweet as that of Roundtown, say true, yet sweet enough for the Blind Bard, and all around him he heard the noises of the People of the Shore.

He ran on still, away from the ringing of the bells and the screams and shouts, and as he ran he thought he might start to laugh. He was as near death he had ever been, even the Song almost beyond him now, say true, yet he was here. He had lost his stallion and pain roared through every part of him, say true, say true, yet he was here.

Next Chapter: 21/08/64