Activity

 

 

 

 

 

 

Qatar

There were people everywhere. One of them, a tall man in an overcoat, came forward carrying a dog. He looked about Qatar’s age, but Qatar barely glanced at him. Quin still clung to the crutch, and below him, the castle floor was filling with lava; if he fell again, there would be no second chance. He saw his brother’s fingers slipping. He wasn’t as strong as Qatar–even the short climb up the crutch was too much for him.

Qatar’s arm shot out and gripped his brother’s shoulder, hauling him up over the edge.

“Well, Little Brother! you sure know how to get into a ticklish situation.”

Quin ignored him, but glanced up at the man carrying the dog. The man set the dog down and started toward them. Quin’s face flushed, and he crawled behind Qatar. Like a rat scuttering into its hole, thought Qatar in disgust.

Just then a short man with a dark complexion sauntered up. He apparently knew Quin already.

“You’re new. I’m Acyn, welcome to whatever illogical nightmare this is.” he said hastily.

Qatar looked him up and down. “Illogical seems right anyway. I’m Qatar. This here is my Little Brother Quin. You’ve met before.”

The young man–Acyn–didn’t seem to have time for much more, and Qatar wasn’t particularly interested in talking with him, anyway.

 

Quin

Locran teleported back with a vaguely crutch-shaped branch. He tore a strip from his overcoat as if it were old cotton instead of leather and wrapped it around the armrest.

Quin blushed again, thinking of how he’d insulted this man.

“Hey, thanks.”

Just then Acyn walked up. Quin would have been glad to see him, if he wasn’t still smarting from the last encounter with Locran.

“Need any help?” Asked Acyn.

Quin shook his head and didn’t look at him.

“Please ask if you need any, I’m happy to help.”

Just go away.

Quin shook his head and grunted.

I don’t want your help and I don’t need it! why are you so interested in me? He remembered Acyn’s staring when Quin had first arrived. But he bit his tongue. Acyn was just trying to help.

Locran walked up. It was amazing how quietly he could walk. Quin’s crutches made a continual tap tap on the stone floor, that echoed in the vast darkness of the cave.

“I apologize for my rudeness earlier,” Lorcan said smoothly. “It was nothing personal. I often speak briskly to people. Plus those two were really getting on my nerves so I was in a bit of a mood.” He gestured towards Sahar and Acyn, who were chattering away to the two newcomers.

“Yeah…me to. I flew off the handle–and you weren’t yelling. What you said just reminded me of my brother, I guess.”

He hadn’t meant to say that.

Someone lit a torch, and Quin could see the face of the man beside him. Ready for anything. set. Hard. why had he gone all the way to the forest for a crutch, all for a poor lame ‘lad’?

he suddenly stretched out his hand and gripped Quin’s shoulder.

“Walk slowly, boy,” he said. “I’ll guide you.”

He fought hard against the urge to shake him off. He let Locran’s hand stay, but every muscle tensed under the grip and those words.

He bit his tongue, trying not to say the words that rose in his mind. Locran was trying to be helpful…just like Acyn had been.

After a while he let go of Quin’s shoulder, and Quin began to relax a bit. He looked again at the assassain’s face. There was something underneath the hardnesss. Something Locran hid deep in his eyes, as if he hoped no one would find it.

 

”So who are you exactly?” Quin asked.

”I’m an assassin,” Lorcan sighed. “I serve the High Queen. I hunt down her enemies and kill them. Thats my story. Nothing interesting about it.”

”But why do it?”

Locran’s jaw set. It took him a long time to answer.

“I do it because I have no choice,” he said darkly. “My whole life, I have been taught one lesson. One lesson only. Kill or be killed. Protect your own, or they will die.”

He looked down at Quin. “I’m definitely no hero. But I don’t think its evil for just wanting to protect the ones that I love. Or what do you think?”

Quin blinked up at him.

“I suppose if that’s the only way to survive…” he said slowly. “But what about the people you…assassinate? Don’t they have ‘their own’, just like you do?” he stumbled to a stop. Here he was, lecturing a stranger on how to do his job.

He glanced up at Locran, wondering if the other mask he wore, the calm exterior, would crumble. As he watched Locran’s passive face he could see that inside was a struggle, and he wondered for an instant if he would break his rule about speaking softly unless giving orders.

But all he said, without emotion, was, “And you, lad. Who are you?”

“I’m a farmer. Well, I was.” his glance fell involuntarily on his missing leg. “Now I’m just…Quin.”

**************

I don’t think I have songs for my characters. :(((( I love music for writing, but haven’t found songs for them.

 

@irishcelticredflowercrown

IDK if that is how Locran would react to Quin’s answer–feel free to change it if you want. 🙂