The migratory peace didn’t last long. Because of course it didn’t. Why would it?
The sword that – oddly – was left on the table, began to shudder and groan. I stared, moving away but keeping my eyes on it. The metal twisted, gave a groaning sound and began rattling on the table. My ears forward, I began to stalk forward enough to see. What was making the grinding sound?
I watched as the symbols down the center of it seemed to change. Like the metal was growing over the inscription, filling in the bits that had been carved out. It shuddered, groaned again, and the metal was completely flush. More cracking, more grating sounds as new symbols began to appear, writing themselves in the same script as before but in a completely different order. Then rest. Then silence.
The metal settled back against the table. I waited for a few heartbeats, waited for anything more to happen, but nothing did. After a moment I walked up, grabbed the hilt in my teeth and trotted over to where Layla had disappeared. Rod was the only one who could decipher it, but the connection between Layla and her sword had me curious.
I opened the door to find Layla tossing and turning on a cot, nearly spinning in place on a bit of fabric stretched out between two sections of wall. The sword flashed a bright blue light under my jaws causing me to drop it right as Layla shot up out of her cot and spun, landing on the floor with a smack. She let out a scream and shot up, darting away and hitting the back of the wall, eyes wide with terror. I did my best to blink away the blinding flash against my eyeballs, blocking the door and turning to her with ears and nose.
“Kid!” I huffed, “Calm down!!”
She was panicking, full-blown. She grunted and folded, body shifting and hulking erratically. Claws began to tear at the walls as she struggled, as she whined and growled and groaned.
“Listen to my voice,” I said as calmly and steady as I could. “Kid…you’re not in danger. Deep breaths. Search the room, find your targets.”
I could hear more than see still, though it was coming back slowly. She lurched, took a step towards the middle of the room before halting. Breathing raggedly. My sight finally cleared enough so I could actually see her. She had nearly doubled in size, most of it in her hunched back, clawed knuckles scraping the floor. Tears poured down her face as she grabbed at her head, nose and mouth elongated into a half-snout appearance, ears wildly flopping while still maintaining their pointed shape.
Her eyes were clear. Still Layla in there. Clearly showed her overwhelmed, terrified. Desperately casting about, looking for what I meant.
“We talked about this,” I reminded her. “You’re so frightened you’ve pitched yourself into a fighting stance while trying to run. You told me you can’t do both and that’s why your body reacts this way. So I told you to lean into it. Find a target in the room, focus on it, decide if you want to run from it or fight it, and then act.”
She struggled, tears falling down her face as she looked around. Settled on a corner of the room, let out a bellow and charged it. She rammed her face into the wall, the metal buckling and snapping from the first blow. Smoke and oil and grease and steam shot out, Layla stumbling back with a coughing fit. Regular size. Normal.
A little dizzy with a slight head-wound, but normal.
“Wha…what happened?!” She touched her forehead and winced at the sight of blood.
“Was gonna ask the same question,” I answered, shoving her sword at her. She stumbled, stared at it for a moment. Looked up at me. “Look at the inscription.”
She did. “What?” I nodded at it, pointing with my long claw. She squatted, peering. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“The inscriptions…are different?”
I nodded.
She grabbed the handle, hefted it to look at it better. Squinted. “They…but they were engraved. How can…?”
“What were you dreaming about?”
“What?” Her eyes went from the sword to me.
“What were you dreaming about?” I prompted again.
She shook her head. “I…”
“Don’t lie, kiddo. The inscription on the sword changed. Lit up as soon as I got in here. That, and I’m pretty sure ‘nothing’ wouldn’t make you scream and run your head into the wall.”
She blushed, purple striking across her features. “I…” She shook her head.
“We’re a little past ‘I had a bad dream’ and not talking about it,” I said, sitting. “Was it your father’s murder or someting more recent?”
She puffed out her cheeks for a moment before taking a breath and sliding the sword back in it’s sheath. “I was…I was…” she shook her head. Sat on the ground. Played with the sword’s handle for a moment. “I came in here and was thinking about Jake and the Keystones. I fell asleep and had a nightmare I was running from something I couldn’t see. Kept trying doors along an endless hallway, and each one had a different symbol. I started trying to focus, wondering…wondering who could help me. Who could help us. What it all meant. The darkness came, and…” She huddled up against herself for a moment.
“You woke up?”
She nodded.
“So you were focused on who could help us…with the Keystones.” She nodded again. I considered. I’d need a translation, but the wheels were spinning.
Before I could move or speak, the ground came out from under us. The ship lurched and twisted, banking so hard Layla and I were both smashed against the wall for a second. I peeled myself free and managed to wiggle myself between her and the wall, yelling, “hold on!!”
She managed to grab onto my fur, pulling at my neck and wings and shoulders until she had by body in a death-grip, arms around my chest and knees locked behind my elbows, sword pressed awkwardly between us. I dug my claws into the ground as the ship rolled the other way, spreading my legs out as I made for the door, elongated claws keeping me from sliding too much.
“Keepers are onto us!” Miles’ voice cracked through the speaker. “Hold on tight!!”
We had a second to rest. Looks like that second was up.
