the mission, the method, the downfall

Ithiel de le Poer · 12-01-2011, 04:29 PM

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Form	Info Time: Sunrise
Devil's Demesne

Aemon or Ezekiel, please. Also omg tl;dr.

Zedekiah had been circling high for some time, and Ithiel peered upward toward the bird. Even at such distance, the man's crimson gaze could easily make out the massive wingspan of the vulture. Lystra shifted anxiously beneath him, and Ithiel extended a hand to her neck, his touch rough and insistent. She was not the type of horse to be coddled, and he knew better at this point. The dust-colored coyote had departed Scintilla knowing how to ride a horse, but now Ithiel truly knew how to ride a horse, and he could control a beast as tempermental as Lys. He was full of youthful cockiness, of course, and thought his control of his own chestnut mare indicated he was a master at the talent. He could ride with the hardest of them and break the wildest of bests, of course.

A wry smirk crossed his face at these thoughts. The boyishness was beginning to leave him, and such thoughts were now viewed with a more worldly look. The once bloodied leg was nearly healed, but the ache was still with him. Ithiel knew just how close he had come to death. The swipe had been aimed at his belly, and it would have disemboweled him. Such was his first encounter in real combat. The boy in him looked back to that event with excitement and anticipation of his next encounter; the man in him waited with no more than grim acceptance. Such was the struggle in him, and the jaded elder was winning out, bit by bit.

The vulture's lazy arc in the sky drifted ever closer to Ithiel, who raised his arm in anticipation. The thick leather gauntlet there would provide a landing space for the bird without destroying the flesh of the coyote's arm in the process. Zede looped lower toward the ground, tilting his wings to slow his descent as he approached the dusty coyote. The bird landed and Ithiel braced himself, clutching tightly onto Lystra's saddle as he did so. He grunted with the effort, and the big bird simply looked at him, unblinking and blank eyes indifferent to his master's discomfort.

Ithiel peered at the bird expectantly, offering a chunk of hastily dried meat as encouragement. The vulture leaned forward, extending his skinny neck toward the treat, gobbling it quickly. Head-bones. East. Eight, the vulture hissed. Ithiel was always amazed at the snake-like quality of his high speech, and though he did not know the exact span of measurement the vulture used to estimate distance, "eight" was a short trip by horseback, slightly longer on foot. They were close.

The dust-hued coyote shifted the bird back onto the rear of his saddle, tying the jesses of leather loosely to the vulture's perch. He could not gallop or canter while the bird was there, but he could at least trot, and the straps would keep Zedekiah from flying off and injuring himself. Ithiel wasn't absolutely certain if such measures were necessary -- Zede was well-trained, to say the least -- but he engaged them all the same, as it was in his instruction and training. The liver horse moved in her way, seeming to lumber across the earth.

In a short time, the man saw the gleam of white for himself, and drew his horse to a slower pace, pulling back on the rope halter he generally used to secure her. He dismounted, leaving Zedekiah and leading the mare on foot from here. It would be best to leave her behind a bit, he knew, but there was no suitable place to tie her here. When he reached the edge of the land, the invisible line of scent and visible border drawn by skulls, he stopped, peering into the land as if he could see what he was seeking here. He could smell his brother, but even if he hadn't, he knew this was the right place.

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