[Oba] The Trail We Blaze [Sajah | Xewai | Nyko]

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

‘…leave the stone at the entrance of sleeping quarters, buried in the sand…’

Sajahka’s breath burned his throat, hot with nerves and the Oban sun. The days had dragged like barely molten iron, rolling forward but so slowly, and every moment, his mind had supplied him with cacophony of thoughts. Thoughts of freedom. Thoughts of failure. What if they succeeded, what if they were caught, what would the sand of his homeland feel like between his toes as opposed to this, what would it be like for his last breath to be under the hand of his masters and his story to end here, and what of Nyko.

What of Nyko.

How was he, would he be safe, could he be trusted to exercise the fullest caution?

Nyko had been his friend since his earliest memory, before he had lost his tongue, before he could speak, and — of course — afterward, and all through his years of silence following. Nyko had been there for the formation of his gesture language, and he would have trusted the man with his life in the span of less than a heartbeat.

But by blood and fire, Sajah knew as surely as the sun would rise, Nyko was not the most careful and patient of individuals. So he worried for him. He worried in the daylight hours over the passing days while his hands worked over the tasks set before him, and he worried at night when he tossed on the wooden panels of floorboard in the sleeping space set aside for him and his fellows.

The stranger did visit again. Xe. And the plans had changed, but since they did not immediately affect Nyko—only the means by which Sajah himself would be leaving—it disturbed little, and as instructed, Sajah left the marker stone beneath the sand the evening before Nyko’s day. Everything, one way or another, would be very different in a matter of a handful of hours. The following morning, Sajah thought of nothing else, and his body moved as though controlled by a separate mind—or none at all, while his own was busy—moving through trained motions out of habit.

When he made his evening market trip—the same in every other way as many days before and yet so critically different in circumstance—he could have sworn he could taste the beat of his heart on the back stub that remained of his tongue.  

[Kapoodles]

“It’s time.”

Xewai was waiting anxiously the entire day, pacing, gripping at his staff over and over again in an attempt to calm his worries. Despite yesterday’s events happening, finding someone who meant the world to him in a way they couldn’t even imagine, now that the time had come there was a much more solid fear in the bottom of his stomach. Everything was planned to a T, everything was timed and plotted and primed to the point that Xewai could give an accurate estimate of how many seconds it would take to do each step. The only factor he didn’t know was Nyko.

He chewed his lip as the group stood, going over the plan one last time. Gobi, Klaria, Farako, knew their parts, and he knew his. He made them. He thought out ever single detail and there was no room for mistakes. But Nyko… A soft curse was made under his breath as Xewai began to deeply regret not meeting with the other young man. At this point, having watched Sajahka long enough to know he was punctual and reliable, there was no doubt in his heart that he would be ready, but Nyko was so unknown that Xewai found himself thinking over and over and over again every possible way the plan could go wrong. And Ubeli’ae knew he prepped for it.

So.. He -kinda- lied to himself. There was plenty of room for small mistakes. He had back up after back up after back up. And there was no time to change a thing.

“Xe, we’re getting into position. We’ll see you on the other side of the sea.”

“I’ll see you on the other side of the sea.” A long time farewell was made before they split ways. Gobi, off to go get the carriage that would drive them out to sea, Farako and Klaria stationed at checkpoints to join Xewai in the long run from the Market’s road to the City’s borders. It would be close, they would only have as much time as was expected for Sajahka to leave his home, then be back. Less than that. There was still plenty time for them to make their escape.

The sun was low in the sky when Xe finally found himself in position. This time he did not suddenly come up upon his target. Tensions were high, so where weapons. Should he surprise Sajahka, there was a good chance he would find a dagger in his side, and such a grave injury by the target was NOT something he had planned for. No, instead he stood there, obvious as day on a corner on an empty part of the street. When he finally saw Sajahka the timer began.

1.. 2… 3…

The young Buhawi member looked so much different than the last time they had met. Now, gripped in his hand was a staff, taller than he was and very clearly magical in nature. His clothing had changed ever so slightly, the dirty rags replaced with softer and more light in nature. And his hair was tied up high just as before, with the bangs pushed out of his eyes. He was not fooling around at all. Even the smile given to Sajahka was different as he approached the young man. It didn’t reach his eyes, which remained sterned and focus.

“It’s time to go.” He would only say it once, pulling the cart away from the other man and kicking it over. It would look more like a kidnapping than escape. Once the loud crash was made in the empty street (he made sure that it was empty earlier by releasing a few stinking toads to invade the area enough to drive all the people away) Xewai grabbed Sajahka by the elbow, pulling him in the right direction and urging him to follow, before dashing down an alley.

120… 121… 122…

The first checkpoint was reached, and Klaria joined them, her weapons drawn. A single moment was spared to check on Sajahka, to make sure he was keeping up and he offered him a smile of reassurance. She’s one of ours.

With each curve and turn the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky and it was getting hard to see. Shadows danced by on the walls as they continued to sprint. Xewai’s pace did not stop or slow. This wasn’t the first time he had ran this path, but it would be his last. Every turn and curve and box set out was mapped and marked to make the run smooth. So far, so good.

300… 301… 302..

Farako joined them next, waiting around a corner with a burning torch, and Xewai stopped his sprint, slowing down to a quick paced walk. If they had made it this far, they were fine for now. This quarter was the poorer part of the city, no one would be surprised to see a bunch of Matorians just moseying around in the dark. He was sure that Sajah would have been a bundle of nerves, so he let Farako and Klaria take the lead and walked just a few paces behind him, guarding the rear. It was quiet, peaceful… Perfect.

590… 591… 592…

The buildings became more and more sparse until the small group reached the crumbling edge of the cities limits. There stood a tall, quiet looking Matorian, Gobi, and next to him stood a large carriage with two Xaraan hooked up to it, quietly thumping the ground.

They were on time! They were ready… If Xewai’s estimations were correct…. Only 142 more seconds until Nyko would arrive, give or take ten or so seconds…

“Rest now, Sajahka, we are safe! It is now just up to Nyko to make it here.” A hand came to rest on Sajahka’s shoulder, a sincere smile offered to try to comfort the man who surely, SURELY was panicking still.

“Now we wait..”
 

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

The night of the dinner party had been so grand for so long that Nyko was given a false sense of security.

For the entirety of the week preceding these events he had thought of little else. That dinner party, that horrid dinner party, would be his last. Every shipment he oversaw with his mother for more extravagant meals they would never eat was just one more reason to leave. Of course, he was quiet about it all; or rather, he tried to be. For Nyko hiding his emotions was the hardest task in his life, and keeping his mouth shut was ten times worse. His mother knew something was wrong the moment he volunteered to help set up for the party, even when it wasn't his duty to do so. He had been far too chipper in his work this past week, and it had set off several alarms with the older woman.

Each one of her questions he had dodged. "What's going on?" "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't-" Naturally Nyko assured her that nothing would happen; he was going to behave, for once. Of course she thought it was all about that stupid dinner party, but the young 'servant' was thinking far beyond that one, insignificant night.

Then he met Aaricia and got cheeky.

Arrogant.

That's what his mistress called it; arrogant. After the dinner party was over, the guest were seen to, and he had seen Aaricia off Nyko was anxiously preparing for his escape. He tucked himself into the small 'room', if it could be called such a word, with his mother to wait. Once he was sure she was asleep the escape had been on.

Except, Nyko hadn't planned on being watched. He hadn't thought about his earlier actions, the one's that shamed the wealthy Oban merchant at that stupid dinner party. Aaricia had been his daughter after all, and his mistress had become suspicious. He figured it was because of his past transgressions, as this wasn't his first offense. Nyko couldn't keep his mouth shut, and to her, he was a liability. Her guards had been watching him all night, and even before his toes touched the thresh hold into freedom Nyko's arms were pulled behind his back, face slammed into a hard stone floor.

By the time they dragged him into her bed chamber Nyko could barely walk. The left side of his face was swollen, bruised, and twisted with open rage. Not only were her personal guards present, but so were the city patrol. His mother had been awoken from her slumber, and was left standing at the mistress' side, refusing to make eye contact with her son.

The mistress openly accused him of theft, of which he denied vehemently, but it was no use. She stripped the earrings from his ears, both of which were weighted gold, and asked all present how else a 'servant' could afford such luxuries if he hadn't stolen them? The incident itself only fueled Nyko's anger. He hadn't stolen the earrings, just the gold to buy them, but he wasn't about to say that now!

Nyko raged; he knew that she was only doing this because for once, one of her precious servants was trying to leave and she didn't like it. He couldn't remember much after that. There was a lot of yelling all around, crying, he knew he flipped someone an unsavory finger, but couldn't remember who...

...and then he was taken to the prison.

Left to rot, but only after being whipped.

Only after begging his mother, once more, to save him and watching her turn to the mistress for comfort. The image of his mother, his own true tie to Oba, turning to their oppressor for comfort over atrocities her son had never committed would be forever burned into his brain.

"Forty lashes, and a week with no food. More if he screams."

And of course Nyko had screamed. He hadn't stopped even after he passed out the first time, only when his voice broke did he seem to quiet.

Now...Nyko was quiet. He lay hunched over in his isolated cell, not daring to lay down for any shift sent torrents of burning agony down his spine. His back was slick with blood; so much so, in fact, that it barely looked like a back at all. He would have been surprised if there was any hide left.

Hunched as he was, with his head and limbs tucked under him, Nyko couldn't see the sun but he knew. Sajahka had counted on him to make it out, and he had failed. His voice croaked as he wailed once more, this time fresh hot tears making tracks down his filth stained cheeks.

He had been so close! So close...and now....

....now there was nothing.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

CRASH.

As the contents of his cart toppled, scattering to the market floor in a calamity of rolling objects, and Xe’s grip locked on his arm, dragging him off—he knew there was no turning back. Behind him, the ‘scene’ of the crime, and before him: whatever would be. Whether that be freedom and golden shores licked by the in-rolling ocean surf, or back at the hands of his masters, losing an ear, a hand—or his head—one way or another, this was the only path forward.

He found his mind surprisingly receptive of such a notion.

It had clarity, definition, certainty in many forms. Not in the result, of course, but insofar as his own choices went, there was no longer any debate or dallying. It was only this: the beat of his footsteps to the cobblestone and clay dust, the rhythm of his pulse in his lungs, and the building sting of sweat on his skin as they turned down alley after alley. When they slowed to a walk, his lungs were thirsty, but some base instinct — counter to the practicalities of the situation — bid him not even to breathe too loudly, so his greedy catches of breath were paced and something short of openly panting.

He could not remember the last time he had run. Truly run. Perhaps, after his first bath upon attaining freedom, he would do that: dart down the long stretches of yellow sand, as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. His body was not built for running, short and compact, but there was a sort of freedom of its own that came with the exercise.

If they made it that far.

So busy had his mind and body been then, that Sajah had not—for the first time since leaving Nyko and anticipating the escape in the days between—worried. There had been no time for it. No space, once the cart had hit ground and their feet had began pounding market road. Nyko’s portion was in his own hands, and Sajahka was doing his portion. Only after, when a foreign hand—Xe’s—dropped to his shoulder, and the night air and quiet settled in around them with the words still hanging empty, “Now we wait…” did he begin again to worry.

Slowly, at first. His faith in Nyko, on the whole, was incredibly high. The man was quite literally the closest and most trusted individual in his life. Not that there were many other options. And he wasn’t supposed to be here yet. Not yet.

Until he was.

Sajah’s pulse, like a slow rolling storm distant at first, came in like a swell of rain— titter-titter-titter-titter-ccrrrrRRRSSHHH—and with every passing moment that Nyko should have been there, the thunder rolled louder. He should be here.

He should be here.

He SHOULD BE—

He wasn’t coming.

Sajah could have pinpointed the moment he knew it. With abrupt certainty, he shook his head, and he could not say it, but his eyes darted about their location. Gone. He’s not coming. They kept him. But where—? And yet, before he had even finished the thought, Sajah’s mind provided him with memory. This wasn’t the first time Nyko had been caught and punished, and were Sajahka any less pessimistic, he may have given the moment more thought. Anything could have happened. Nyko could simply have been delayed. Or lost track of time. Or not been immediately sure which direction to head. Or—

But it wasn’t that. Something had gone wrong. And he had no pen or paper to explain himself, nor did he want to, for his mind had found its track: he needed to get to Nyko, and knew where he was.

This was taking too long.

He moved, striding in the direction of Nyko’s masters’ house—and the sequestered, separated prison room he knew they kept for slaves just spirited enough to ‘deserve’ it.  

[Kapoodles]

732... 733... 734...

Each passing second was like a slap on the wrist to Xewai. He wanted to go. He wanted to keep moving, to get into the carriage and drive off to the docks where Sajahka would finally be safe. It was so close, SO CLOSE but he had to wait for some unknown factor... They still had time, he would be here soon. With every second carefully calculated the young mission leader knew that he would be here.

909... 910... 911...

Why was wasn't he here? Xewai knew, just KNEW he should have gone to speak with the man one on one. He could have determined then whether or not the man truly was going to come. It would not have been the first time that someone would be so excited and enthusiastic to come and follow them to Matori only to turn and refuse once the day had come. And more than not, there was no way to convince them otherwise as they were far too stuck into the old ways. But the hardest part of it all was the fact that he didn't know the kind of person that Nyko was. He didn't have that time to evaluate him to see if he really was the kind of person who wanted to be free. This unknown factor now caused the whole mission to be at risk!

Yet Xewai felt no anger, towards the situation. He said he would rescue them, and lead them to freedom, and by the gods he would! Sajahka's own body language and panic only served to reinforce this. And though the man began to move toward the direction of where Nyko was to be, he quickly stepped before him, stopping him with his staff.

"He is late. And we WILL go find him, but we MUST be smart about this. We cannot risk you or anyone else in this mission, so we are going to do this as a team, understood?" His words were strong and wavering because he knew that if Sajahka were to go on his own it would end nothing short of tragically and he wasn't about to let that happen. He turned his head toward his team who stood nearby with worried expressions brief and stern to give them orders, the staff still gently but firmly pressed against Sajahka's chest to keep him from storming away too quickly.

"Farako, Klaria, stay close, but on the rooftops. We will need to know if there is anything ahead. Gobi, stay here with the cart, be ready to MOVE when we return, and if we don't, find the master's house and burn it to the ground. They will NOT Get away with hurting any of us." His tone sounded almost as if he had done this a million times before. But he hadn't, and he was terrified and nervous at how the situation was taking a turn for perhaps what might have been the worse. How would Sajahka manage to have faith in him were he to show that? No, he was steel on the outside, not for himself, but for the men who were relying on him.

"Sajahka... Lead us there, but do NOT do anything foolish! We do not have the room for mistakes. Let's go!" And with that, he stepped out of the way, allowing Sajahka to dash off in the direction he needed to go, his party members follow close behind.  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Clank.

Nyko lifted his eyes long enough to see a bowl of what smelled like warm broth being pushed his way from a slat in the door. The doorway led to an interior hallway, one of which that kept the estates four cells connected. Nyko reached up to knock the soup away, but hesitated at the last second - what master, after having thoroughly beaten him, would make sure he had a warm meal?

Once more Nyko focused on the slot, and was unfortunate to catch the sight of his mother. She was crouched low, face pressed to the cool stone tiles much like his own. "Nyko-"

"Go away," he grumbled. His normally boisterous, expressive voice was deadened, even cracked from hours of screaming. "I have nothing to say to you, Zarna."

The older matorian sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't addressed her by anything other than momma or mother his entire life. Nyko had always been so respectful to her; even after she betrayed him the first time. Time, however, had a way of wearing down a relationship, and Nyko had never really been able to forgive her.

He was already closing his eyes when another noise drew his attention to the slat. The sight choked him. It was his earrings, being placed as far into his cell as his mother's arm could reach. If he could just move his arm he could touch them, but it hurt; everything hurt so, so much.

"He'll come for you; I left Miirna in charge of the back gate." Zarna needn't say who she meant, on either case. It was likely she had known for ages that if Nyko was going to escape it wouldn't be alone, and Miirna, yet another elderly servant, would be likely knitting by the opened gate. "She'll close it behind him, but the cell..."

"Zarna! Come!" A sharp, masculine voice called for his mother from further down the hall, and Zarna snapped up to her feet as fast as she could. She didn't bother saying anything else to her son; rather, she hurriedly scampered way, and Nyko heard the door slam behind them.

The injured boy settled further onto his stomach, sprawled out along the cool floor. It felt glorious compared to the heat from his back. Nyko lazily pushed the broth out of his way and reached for the earrings instead. The stretching caused his upper back to burn, but holding those precious bits of gold once more was worth it.

Especially now that he could hope again. His mother had talked about Sajah coming after him as if it were an inevitability, but would that Xewai person let him? What if they took him away without coming to check on him?

No, Sajah would come, he just had to believe.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Sajah grit his teeth.

Xe’s staff—anything in his way was the last thing he had patience for. But the words that followed gave him temporary pause, so he settled for holding his ground. Tucking his fingers hard against his palms. Feeling his pulse drop and beat, beat, beat against the skin of his throat as though trying to find a way out. He barely heard what Xe said to his ‘team.’ None of them mattered especially much to him, only the moment that he could go and find Nyko.

Every second here was another second lost.

Then, Xe moved.

Almost before the other man had made it fully out of his way, Sajah was pressing forward—not running, because he did not dare continue to make a sight of them if anyone did happen out into the streets and they would not all be clear—but a stiff, burning walk, and he knew the way. Like a map etched into his brain and trained to his feet they moved almost without his command, carrying him forward, down this alley, then the next, around a bend, under the long shadows of the surrounding buildings.

Fortunately for his sanity it was not far. It had never been far to the house, that fact blessedly allowing himself and Nyko to remain in frequent contact over the years and maintain the friendship they had—and yet, it still felt as though an eternity had passed before he was closing in on the back of the residence, his pulse having calmed from their run but still heavy in his gut as he surveyed the state of the house.

Miirna.

That made things easier.

Sajah glanced to Xewai. While he might have liked to sign and insist that Xe stay here—I am a familiar face, one person is less suspicious, I can take care of Nyko—he somehow doubted the other would be willing to stay behind, given that this was ‘his’ mission. Regardless of however much it felt like Sajah’s responsibility. He had promised Nyko freedom. Not only in the days preceding this moment, but in the years before then that they had discussed it from time to time. He was responsible if this did not go through.

Still, he gestured to the other man, pointing to himself and the gate, and then Xe and indicating downward. Here. He then made a pinching, ‘closed’ gesture with his fingers, pulling them across his own lips. No words.

He prayed as he stepped away, out of the shadows of the gardens and toward the back gate, that whatever Xe chose to do — whether he headed the warning or not — he at least kept the choice quiet. Of course, footsteps followed him. At least, as predicted, Miirna did not stop her knitting or even ‘notice’ them, and Sajah could have sworn his pulse beat louder the nearer he drew to the conjoined stone cells. It was cooler inside, black with shadows and dimly lit by old lanterns.

His breath and his footsteps seemed unduly loud in the quiet space.

Tap, tap, scuff, in the darkness.

Pausing in the hall, he glanced to Xewai. Now, at least, a voice would be useful if they were going to find out quickly which of the cells Nyko was in—if any. The smell of blood, though, had Sajah taking a step towards the third farthest, suspicious, and already feeling the building licks of hot anger in his gut. They’d hurt him. Surely they had, surely he must have known they would, and yet to get the first physical hint of it—  

[Kapoodles]

Hardly a breath was taken while they traveled through the alleys and roads that would lead to Nyko. As Xewai stayed on Sajahka's heels, his other members remained nearby upon the rooftops with silent steps. They had been trained for this, far more so than Xewai who still found himself slipping off of the flat roofs of the Oban cities. They kept on alert from high above, ensuring that their leader would be safe in his first efforts of freedom.

Xewai, himself, felt his stomach began to flip as the house he had only briefly looked at came into sight. He hadn't nearly scoped it as thoroughly as he had Sajakah's prision, so it was all unfamiliar. More than anything else that was happening, that terrified him. But he did not have the time nor effort to waste on simply comforting his fears of failure. It felt like as soon as they were moving, they had arrived and Sajahka stopped to survey the area. The moment that the other turned to him to gesture him to stay, Xewai's eyes narrowed. He didn't need to say it, and the young man with him couldn't be that blind to the expression of 'like hell I'll stay here!' that he gave off, but he agreed to remain quiet. The old woman gave no feeling of threat or suspicion as they walked passed. Or atleast she was decent enough to hide it well. It didn't matter. The moment that she were to move, or to head to alert someone, Farako would be on her, silencing her with skilled knots and gags. No one needed to die tonight, especially not an old woman.

There was a particular reason why Xewai chose to go barefoot most of the time. His feet made hardly a sound against the stone floor, and his clothing hardly made a ruffle as he breathed with precision and patience. The only threat here is us. We are fine.. The words did well to bring comfort to him, up until the smell of blood hit his sensitive nose. It was not the first time he had smelled it, but it still unsettled him, and he quickly went over to the door that Sajahka was at. It was the only one with sound behind it, and whoever was in there seemed to breath rather raggedly. Even were it the wrong person, he couldn't leave them in there like this. He wouldn't.

Taking a lantern from the wall, and the pin from his hair, Xewai went to the door and knelt before it. His cheek was pressed to the stone as his eyes peeked through the slot that was there. He couldn't make out much, just a glint of gold that reflected back the dim glow of his light.

"Nyko?" The name was weird and unfamiliar on his tongue, but that was the name of the young man they were looking for, he was sure of it. "Nyko, I have Sajahka with me. We've come for you, hang on."

There was no wavering in his words, and as soon as he spoke, he leaned back up, eyeing the look that kept them from the man inside. The Buhawi Pin was more than just some pretty piece, it was a tool, one that he was more than a little familiar with. And the lock was no different than countless others he had opened, so only a few seconds after the Pin's end was inserted into keyhole, a satisfying click was heard and the door was pushed open. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop Sajahka from rushing in, Xewai opted to safely move out of the way, standing up and grabbing his staff before walking in behind him.

It was still quiet from further up the hall... They couldn't get too comfortable, who knew how much time was left?  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

[3/10]

Footsteps. The familiar tap, tap, scuff of boots on sand licked stone caught Nyko's attention. He knew it wasn't his mother then, since Zarna so rarely wore anything beyond thread bare slippers, and for a moment Nyko feared a 'visit' from his master. During that time he kept his mouth closed, doing his best to keep his breathing at a minimum, especially when those footsteps came so close to his cell door...

The sudden light caused Nyko to hiss, eyes closing and face turning just slightly away from it. Such an abrupt shift from virtual darkness to any form of light burned, but once his name was spoken, Nyko braved it. He hesitantly opened one amber eye, then the other and turned his face back to the slot.

"W-who-?" He croaked, licking his lips when his voice failed him. Hours of screaming, cursing, and wailing had left his voice in a sorry state. When the voice spoke Sajahka's name, though, Nyko felt as if he could cry out once more; except, this time with joy and relief. This must be Xewai and that meant...that meant they really had come for him...Of course Nyko knew Sajah would try, but as to whether the other would let him...It was enough to wrench a choked sob from the boy.

Nyko had managed to push himself up onto his knees by the time Xewai unlocked the door, and he was crying fat, ugly tears that left tracks down his filth stained face.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

The lock could not have possibly taken any longer to work open.

In reality, it must have taken less than a minute, Xewai being practiced at the task — surely incredibly useful in the ‘profession’ he’d taken on — but to Sajah, even having come this far, it felt like a clicking, dragging eternity, every nock and tap of metal making his body tense with combined anticipation and mounting fear at the thought that any moment it could be ‘too long’ and someone would come and take them away or gut them where they stood or—

And then the lock opened.

Civility aside, Sajahka was down in a moment’s notice, pushing his way in and all but collapsing to his knees in the stone and grit before his friend. Blood. And filth. All the trappings of a beating were there, making it immediately obvious what had transpired, and though it would later be relevant to ask, for the moment all he could feel was the rough, messy and furious lodge and pound of his own pulse in his throat at the thought. His teeth grit, and he reached, almost touching — to Nyko’s hair, to his cheek, to anything — before reminding himself they had an unknown time limit, ever dwindling.

«Can you stand?» Immediately after signing it, his hand braced to Nyko’s shoulder to stall any swaying, the answer already anticipated. «I will carry you.»

He did not know how long or how far they would have to go before reaching a safe point, but in Nyko’s state, it looked highly unlikely that he would be going anywhere without assistance.  

[Kapoodles]

When the door swung open the smell of blood all but singed his nose, and Xewai had to force back a gag. It was never going to be something he got used to and the day he did would be the day he would choose to retire. That day was not today and it was NOT the time for such thoughts. Judging from the reaction that Sajahka had, this was the man he was looking for...

Damn... Poor kid... Was the only thought that came for the other in pity before he set back to work.

"Nyko... That's your name, right? Don't worry, we have you. We're all getting out of here." Without another word, Xewai slipped infront of the other young man, slipping his staff under the other's rear, and forcing him forward to slump against his own back. There was no way they were going to move him without pain, so it was best that he got it over with now.

"Put your arms over my shoulders. You don't have to hold on, just lean forward. Don't worry, I got you... Sajahka. We're going to have to run, just like before. Get your knives out. I can heal Nyko and hold up a shield, but you will have to be ready for a fight... And I'm sorry, this isn't the best situation and I know you care about your friend, but If I carry him, we are much more likely to get out of here safely. If we get separated, I can protect him with my magic and still run, but if had him and got caught..." He truly hoped that Sajahka wouldn't protest. They didn't have the TIME for that, and even if he did the answer would be the same. He had the strength to protect Nyko. He had the skill and the power and the speed. Sajahka was untrained, for now. And until that changed, he would be the one to keep them safe.

"Sajahka. Lead us back to the carriage, you remember where it is right?" While he spoke, he used his magic to pull some of the water from the pouch on his hip, and focused it onto Nyko's back, soothing any of the pain he could and worked on closing the wounds up, even if by just a little bit. Without use of his hands, the simple act of healing felt so much more difficult, like trying to run on hot sand than walking on a paved road. There was no giving up now. None at all.

"Let's go."  

[Painted Moose]

The Only Black Uke

Nyko knew he would have fallen if Sajahka hadn't been there to steady him. He reached out on impulse to touch his friend, barely managing to lay unsteady palms on his hips instead of the shoulders he had been aiming for. The act of lifting his arms pulled at too many raw nerves, too many aggravated muscles...

He couldn't find it in him to stop crying, but he was smiling now, torn between sheer relief, and the fear of being caught again. "I t-think I can stand, but I don't think I can wal-"

Turning from Sajah then to Xewai, Nyko had to focus. He had assumed Sajahka's 'mystery man' was a lot older than this. And he was telling him not to worry? Still, Nyko didn't care one way or the other; if he was promising a way out then he would gladly take it.

And despite Sajah's declaration it seemed like Xewai was going to be his ride. Nyko inhaled sharply, forcing his body to move forward and press itself flush against the other's back. He did as he was asked, even going so far as to wrap his arms loosely around the other's neck. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but once he had his head situated in the crook of Xewai's neck, looking forward, Nyko found himself mentally urging the other to just go.

For a moment his amber eyes looked around, finally settling on Sajah with what he hoped was an encouraging smile and not a painful grimace, though the latter was far more likely. He wanted to say something inspiring, or comforting; just a little something to let his friend know it was alright, and that they should get going. Instead, Nyko blurted, "I flipped her off, Sajah," His voice was cracked, tired and slurred, but there was no mistaking that bit of misplaced pride. "It was great."

And then he was being healed and that felt better. So much better. Nyko moaned, visibly relaxing against Xewai. It wasn't much, but the cooling sensation against his raw skin was enough to ebb the horrid burning.  

[Miss Chief aka Uke]

Immediately when Xewai moved, Sajah stiffened, shifting to brace between his friend and the outsider. Because no, Nyko was hurt, he was in danger, and he would see to his safety, not some stranger who had only just—

He bristled, half snarling when the other man moved to pick Nyko up without a word.

Then the words came, of course, but already Sajah was only half paying attention, the bulk of his focus on Nyko and his range of pained expressions, fingers already to the hilts of his blades. Xewai moved carefully, though, and even in his current mental state the rational part of him understood that Nyko couldn’t have been moved in his condition without some pain, so despite the winces and grimaces, Xe did not seem to be handling him poorly. And trying to fight the issue would only waste already preciously limited time.

So, he breathed out, standing as the other did and shoving down the swell of defensive anger. It could be dealt with later. For now…

“I flipped her off, Sajah.”

Sajah pursed his lips tightly. «Was that before or after—»

Something crashed from the outside, and Sajah’s hands froze where they were. Even before the sound of voices followed, Sajah was moving—out, out, out. He drew his blades as he did, feeling his pulse climb up the column of his throat like a ladder. Though he had minimal practice with them, having learned only basic techniques from one of the older slaves owned by his masters, they would be better than nothing. Unfortunately, the moment he stepped out it became obvious his worst suspicion was confirmed: they were no longer alone.  

[Kapoodles]

Praise Ubeli'ae that Sajahka didn't throw the fit that was expected. Yes, he snarled, and yes he made a fuss, but he cooperated. Thank the goddess again because soon after, there was a crash and immediately, he was on guard. Xewai immediately was moving behind Sajah, moving sideways out the door to accomidate the long staff he used to carry Nyko. There was a sound of a fight, soft sounds of flesh hitting the ground and metal upon metal was heard as the trio escaped from the prison cells out into the open air.

Several bodies were already on the ground, estate guardsmen, and several more were engaged in a fight with Farako. Her short blades were moving quickly as she did her best to fight them off, keeping them away from the gates that they came through.

"XE, MOVE!" She shouted, as a flurry of arrows came down from the rooftop, heading straight to the unsuspecting young men. This wasn't planned, no, they had no idea there would be this big of a response for a single slave breaking out, not in this day and age. Instinctively Xewai pushed out as HUGE of a shield that he could around himself, Nyko, and Sajahka, and still maintained the healing that was being performed on Nyko. There was no TIME to look back! Instead, Xewai hung close to Sajahka, his breath growing ever so slightly heavier as he felt the energy drain out of him. Still, he couldn't leave the archers on the roof there, so he did a quick turn, aiming the orb on the end of his staff at the rooftop and casting the biggest blast of fire he could manage through the shield. He could hear their screams and their bodies hit the ground after the fire took hold of them but he would think of that later. He turned back towards Sajahka and gave him a hard push towards he gate with the end of his staff.

"Don't stop! Head for the cart! I'll hold the shield up for as long as I can!" The young man could just feel that this wasn't going to end well for him. At the way he was using his power who knew how long he could hold this up? If nothing else, he had more than enough willpower to get them through this.