Hi ya all.  My little disclaimer thingy-do.  All the Velgarth books, stories, characters, places, ecetera whatever my sleep deprived mind can't remember belong, rightfully, to Mercedes Lackey, Lady Bless her she is a genuis, and if you can't tell my stuff from hers you need even more sleep than I do. (which would be hard to achive.  You would have to really work at it, at this point.  lol!)

Note: I personally have a lot of trouble with pronunciation (Dragon!) and my friends tend to yell at me for screwing names up and such. And when that doesn't work they tend to smack me over the head for enficise (I can't spell!!!), so to cut done on pain (literaly) and confusion, Noria'dori is pronounced Nor-ee-a ' door-i.

Fire Dance

            Noria'dori carefully ground out the white grits, as though by grinding it to a fine powder she could also grind out a solution to her hopeless situation.  She left her task for a moment to rub her temples.  Maybe it was the dim lighting, there was no candle, only the light from her small tea kettle, or maybe it was stress that always gave her these headaches before a performance.  It didn't realy matter she decided,they would be gone soon enough.  The kettle hissed weakly, it had been her Grandmars.  She strained the water on a much washed but clean cloth into a cheap earthware mug.  Next she added the powder.  Sighing raggedly she did one last check on her cloths, if they could be called that.   Next thing to sheer small cloths and asorted veils covered little of her golden/bronze skin.  Her hair, a naturaly mottly mix of magoganies, browns, and even a little dark gold realy covered more of her than her costume did.  Gold paint had been expertly apllied to skin, making her somewhat underfed form appear more healthy and vibrant.  Nothing more to do, she faced the mug as she would an enemy.  With a grimace of distast she downed her homemade concoction putting it down before it could kick in. 

                In a moment she felt like she was floating on clouds, above the city, the whole world.   Her troubles didn't matter, nothing mattered up here.  But it didn't last.  She was back in her body before she could competely grasp the feeling.  Turn it into something she could bring back.  make it into a dance.  Her mind felt fuzzy, the colors were all bleeding into one another.  Her body was there... but it wasn't.  She could feel it, move it, still dance just the same, but somehow... it had become distant.  What happened to it didn't matter really.  What did matter?, she wondered, swaying slightly on her feet.

Dancing.

                Dancing mattered, out there were the big stage, with all the people.  The people mattered too, somehow.  They wanted to see her dance.  That was all right, she wanted to dance now, now that she remembered.   Dancing took her to the place in the clouds, only better begause she would feel good when she came down, not icky and dirty.  She walked dazedly through the curtains to the big stage, momentarely facinated by the jingling of the bells around her ankles.  She stopped at the pole going from the floor to the ceiling, wondering if it went to the clouds.  But no, she could remember now.  The pole was for dancing.  The music started and her feet moved without her, remembering what to do without her help.  But then the rest of her caught up and she was moving, swinging, twirling, Hair flying everywhich way.  Her bare feet pounded the floor, bells jingling.  Until  the cheering got to loud and she couldn't even hear the music never-mind the little bells.  But it didn't matter, she remembered.  She was spinning, spinning, spinning until she almost spun of the ground.  One more spin was all it would take and then she would fly.  Just as she was about to launch herself a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle, pulling her.  Hands had been on her before, everywhere, that was nothing new, but they hadn't tried to stop her from flying. 

                The fall shook her from her drug enduced euphoria.  She crashed to the ground and yelled in pain.  Her ankle seared.  If it was broken she wouldn't be able to dance to fly, maybe not ever again.  That wasn't the most of her problems.  The man who had grabbed her was climbing up onto the stage, a funny look in his eye, a look she knew well.  More were following him.  She scrambled back, dragging her leg, into a dark corner, her lips drawing back from her teeth in a feral growl.  There was no way in Chaos she was getting through that mob with her ankle like this, and that was what it had become, a mob.  She pulled back into the shadows more, teeth bared in warning, fingers crooked to slash.  Her only chance was to make it so much of a blood bath to start they came to their wits and ran early on.  There was no chance of help from the proprieter, the promised crowd control was gone.

                She was alone.

~

Herald Griffon sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his face.  He had been in Haven for four months straight, the longest since his years at the Collegium.  As much as he loved the palace and Haven itself, he was bored.  I should be riding circuit some place, not lazing around here.  well he wasn't exactly lazing.  He was teaching a class on the usefullness of herald gifts as compared with mage gifts.  But that still left him with a lot of time on his hands.  And besides, there are more qualified people than me, I serve more purpose out there.  He would have had his wish, and probably been cursing it exept a farsight student had seen that he would be needed at Haven sometime in the future.  At first there had been great alarm, the times people were in need of a firestarter like him weren't often pretty, but she had assured them it wasn't his gift they needed, it was him.  He had temporarely been taken of the roster for circuit route and when it showed that it would probably be a while he had been given a class to teach.  For a herald used to being useful the confinment  irked.  He sighed again.

~

Noria'dori peered into the mob, hoping in vain to see maybe one sane face, one sign of hope. Something that could tip the odds in her favor.  She caught sight of the torches, towards the back of the group.  If she could only get her hands on one...  As though in answer to her prayers one of the stands wobbled.  For a flickering moment she entertained the hope she had somehow summoned it, like a herald out of the tales she so adored in her youth.  But her hopes were for nothing.  The people on the edge of the mob were being shoved into the stands and when they tipped...  Silverdance held her breath, for a moment forgetting even her pursuers in fear.  The old building would go up in a matter of minutes, with everyone in it.

And she couldn't do a Choas blessed thing.

~

:Aren't you done feeling sorry for yourself yet?:  Farist snorted,  tossing his head in contempt.

Im sorry Farist, its just…  He gnawed on his bottom lip as he thought, a habit he'd never been able to break.  Im bored here.  Part of what I love about being a herald is I see new things, meet new people, go to new places. 

:I know love.:  Farist wickered softly :that's part of what I love you for.  You like an adventure:

Not exactly an adventure, I just don't want to do the same things over and over again.  I need some change.   I guess that's part of why I was never suited to court life.

He felt wordless agreement down their conection, both with what he had said and that he would never be suited to court life.  Another reason he loved him, he thought the endless court tradition and court life as pointless as he did. 

Griffon grinned down at his ears.  Farist was the single best thing that had ever happened to him.  Whats more, he reflected, he saved me from the single worse thing that could happen to me.  If he had not been chosen Griffon most likely would be in the palace right now, bored silly in some formal dance or dinner or some thing with an already silly wife fluttering by his side.  Herald Griffon grinned secretly to himself, he had met the girl his father had betrothed him to, and he pitied the poor fool who had her now.  Some cousin of his if he remember correctly.  He much preferred Farist and a winter curcuit to all that pomp and fuss.

:As well you should.:  his grin widened.

~

                Noria'dori screamed a warning but it was lost in the noise from the mob.  Just before the man who had grabbed her moved over her, blocking her vision, the torch stand fell.  Fish oil spilled everywhere, splattering on cloths, hair and the wooden walls.  The yells from the mob turned to pain filled screams as the oil caught and burst into flame.  Fire traveled through the tightly packed crowd while it rose on the old wooden walls. 

                The man, distracted by the screams, turned away to look back.  His grip loosened as he stared at the burning man who stumbled by, arms waving franticly for help.  Silverdance took advantage of the situation and neatly kicked her attacker in the temple.  He dropped like a dead weight.  She wavered herself.  The smoke and heat mixed with the residue of drugs were making her dizzy.  She slowly and carefully backed herself farther into her corner.  The world spun before her eyes for a moment before finally straitening out.  Still no good, the fire was steadly climbing forward.  Now it had caught on the tattered supposed velvet curtains strung against the walls.  Noria'dori leaned back against the walls, a wave of exostion pushing her down like a heavy hand. 

                No!  She screamed in her mind, to tired and dizzy to wisper, never mind scream.  I need, I need to help them.

~