I said I'd put up a
Tortall fic, and by Mithros, I did!
This is kind of a combination of D/N fluff, and me trying to write
something weird. I know this isn't very
weird, but oh well. I catually started
it sometime last year or something, got stuck, gave up, and then suddenly
thought of an ending yesterday. Go
figure.
R/R!!!
In Dreams By Crescent
Veralidaine Sarrasri walked through a dark, deep
forest. As she passed the tall spruce
trees, she could hear the voices of her animal friends calling cheerful
greetings to her. Zek the marmoset,
Flicker the squirrel, Quickmunch the marmot, the Emperor Mage's birds, and
anyone else that happened by. Daine
smiled and returned the greeting happily.
But the animals were not finished.
The greetings became less friendly as she went deeper into the trees,
and soon they had turned into mocks and threats. Daine nervously tried to calm them down, without avail, and the
comments became worse. Slurs on her
past, against her relationships, her battles and virtues. She cried in fear and shame. Birds of prey suddenly leapt out of their
treetop homes and plummeted at her. "Daine," they called. "Da-aine, Dainedainedaine. Daine Sarrasri!"
Covering her head with both hands, the girl screamed.
"Daine!"
She sat bolt upright, and
felt hands on her shoulders.
"What? Whatwhatwhat?" She was shaking.
One of the candles beside
her bed lit up. Opening her eyes, Daine
looked up into the concerned face of her friend and love, Numair Salmalín. The candlelight cast shadows on his handsome
face, and made his eyes seem darker that ever.
He held her shoulders, and was shaking her gently.
"Daine. Daine, wake up." Numair let go of one shoulder to brush a stray curl off of her
face. "Shhh, it was just a dream." He held a glass of water to her lips, and
she tried not to spill as she drank it.
One of her hands crept up to meet Numair's. He smiled at her. "Are
you all right?"
Daine carefully placed to
water glass on the table, for fear she might spill it. "I- I'm fine," she whispered. "It was j- just a dream." A horrible dream, she added to
herself. She tried to tell Numair to go
back to bed, but her voice caught, and she started to cough.
Numair supported her until she could breath, looking worried. "Are you sure you're all right?" he inquired.
"Nightmare or not, you don't usually end up getting sick from
them." He put an arm around her. "Do you want me to stay with you?"
At any other time, Daine
would have accused Numair of treating her like a baby. Now, though, she was exceedingly grateful of
his thoughtfulness, and simply nodded feebly into his shoulder. Numair kissed
her forehead and held her until she stopped trembling. The next time he looked down at her, she had
fallen asleep again. He carefully laid
her down on the bed, and tucked the covers around her. She was beautiful in sleep. He watched her for a few moments, then
kissed her cheek and went back to his room.
6
When she woke up, the
first thing Daine noticed was that the sum was shining in through the window
onto her bed. Strange, she hadn't slept
this late in a while. Gingerly, she
rolled out of bed, fighting the faint feeling that meant she had gotten up too
fast. Her toes touched the familiar
carpet, and she walked carefully into the main room. The clock in the corner of the room said that it was almost noon.
A small, sweet cake and a
note were lying on a table. Daine
picked up the note and read:
Magelet, I decided to let you sleep in, after your ordeal
last night. You looked a little sick
when you fell asleep. I let Onua know,
and she will expect you after the noon bell.
If you need me, I'm spending the morning with Lindhall, and I'll be in
my workroom in the afternoon. The cake
is for you. Eat it.
Numair
Daine smiled. It was just like Numair to leave her a
little something when he couldn't be around.
She took a bite out of the cake and savored its delicate sweetness. She ate the whole thing, licked her fingers,
and began to prepare for the afternoon.
Daine worked for Onua
Chamtong, the horsemistress of the Queen's Riders. She dressed in rough clothes, for work with the horses, and set
out in the direction of the Royal Forest, where the Rider's headquarters were.
Onua greeted her
cheerfully, and handed her a pair of small scissors. "We're trimming whiskers, today," she informed Daine. "Usually the trainees would do them
themselves, but today they have examinations.
Hop to it."
Daine grinned at Onua's
shortness, and started down the isle of the stable, until she reached the
end. Her own grey mountain pony, Cloud,
snapped at the scissors in Daine's hand, and backed up. You aren't coming near me with those, she told the girl.
Daine climbed over the
stall door and smacked Cloud lightly on the rump. "Like it or not, you're starting to look scruffy," she told
her. "I won't have a scruffy pony."
Maybe you'll have to get
used to it, was the mare's haughty reply.
Besides, you always clip too close.
"I do not," Daine
retorted. "Now, quiet, or I'll lose my
concentration. Then I will cut too close!"
The mare grumbled, but did
as she was told. Daine carefully
clipped the whiskers on Cloud's muzzle, and thought about the dream.
Just thinking about it was
almost as bad as living it. As she thought,
she was yanked back to the forests, hearing the insults, feeling the claws and
talons on her skin. She couldn't shake
it off.
Hey! A voice penetrated the horror. That time you did cut too close, and I wasn't distracting you or
anything!
Daine shook her head, and
tried to free herself of the image. She
suddenly felt very sick. Why had she
not been able to get out of there? It was
as if the mere memory of the nightmare
was enough to render her helpless against the onslaught. Cloud asked her if she was OK, and she
nudged her when she didn't get an answer.
"I—I need to go talk to
Onua for a moment," Daine told her horse.
"Give me a moment." Daine
veritably flew over the gate, and got to Onua as fast as she could.
"Something the matter?"
the horsemistress asked, frowning. "Cut
Cloud too close again?"
I do not cut too
close! Daine thought, irritably. "I'm sorry," she said to Onua. "I know you thought I was going to be in for
work today, but I'm feeling sick again, and I really need to see Numair!"
Onua looked
suspicious. "Surely you don't need to
be with him every waking moment of the
day," she said. "Can't you wait an hour
or so?"
Daine blushed, and shook
her head. "Just what did Numair say
when he told you I wasn't going to be in?" she asked.
Her friend looked
surprised. "He just said you were a
little sick last night," she replied.
"Was it that serious?"
Daine looked away. It was kind of embarrassing, getting sick
over a bad dream. But what kind of
dream wrapped around your brain and blotted everything out, while you
were awake?
"I—I had a really bad dream last night, and it made me sick, OK? I don't know why, but it makes me
suspicious. It was no ordinary dream."
Onua blinked, then
shrugged and agreed. After all, Daine
wasn't usually one to miss work, not without a good reason. And something was bothering her. More than a bad dream would have. Picking up
Daine's dropped scissors, she went to look after Cloud. "I hope she's all right," she told the pony.
She usually is, came the
tart reply. I don't see why she would
change now.
6
Inside the palace, in
Lindhall Reed's workroom, Numair and Lindhall pored over an old, charred
document. It was covered with strange
runes, and writing in some foreign language.
The two men were stuck, and it didn't help Numair's temper to be stuck and worried
sick about Daine.
"Damn!" he finally
shouted, exasperated. "Why aren't we getting anywhere on this?"
He flopped in a large chair in the corner of the room.
Lindhall didn't look away
from the map, and said calmly, "You aren't helping matters by cursing and
losing your temper." He eyed Numair's
tall form sprawled on the chair, reminding him of a spider. "I'm starting to understand why your old
name was 'Draper', seeing as how you drape yourself all over my furniture like
that."
The younger man glared at
him. "Maybe you think this is just a fanciful pursuit of mine, but
I'm very worried about Daine!" Numair
had filled his friend in with all the details of her dream. "I tell you I felt something inside of her, and I didn't like it!" He
jumped to his feet again and pointed accusingly at the parchment on the
desk. "And for some unfathomable
reason, I think that's got something to
do with it!"
Lindhall looked up sharply
from his examination. "You may be known
to go off on your 'fanciful pursuits' as you call them, but I find that staying
calm is helpful in a situation like this."
Numair sighed. He knew Lindhall was right. If they were going to get to the bottom of
this, he would have to keep his head on straight. He shook his head to clear out the remaining traces of anxiety,
and walked back to the desk. The two
renewed their study.
A light tap on the door
made them both jump. Numair spun, and
saw a very pale Daine standing in the doorway.
Much as he had wanted to see her, Numair felt awful looking at her. She looked sick, far sicker than she had
looked the night before. He was used to
seeing her energetic and outgoing, and now she looked as fragile as a glass
figurine. He was afraid to touch her,
for fear she might crumble in his hands.
Daine winced as she saw
Numair's expression. The harsh climb up
the stairs had taken it out of her, and she knew she looked like death warmed
over. She inched inside the room.
"Numair, can I talk to
you?" she asked. Her voice was
husky. "Alone?"
Lindhall raised an
eyebrow, but did not comment. He
quietly left the room, and shut the door behind him.
Daine moved for the chair
and stumbled. Numair was at her side in
a second, catching her. "I'm fine," she
gasped. "Just tired from climbing the
stairs."
For once, Numair found his
sense of humor. "I'll just bet you
are," he said wryly. "I've never seen
you so drained."
Daine was not in the mood
for bantering. She closed her eyes and
counted to ten. She knew that Numair
was probably almost as tense as she was, but he wasn't sick as well as
frightened. She sank into the chair
carefully.
"It's not over," she
said. She blinked. What was that supposed to mean?
"What?" Numair looked
confused.
Daine shook her head, and
winced as pain raced up her neck.
Numair put an arm around her shoulders.
"I mean, I mean…" She massaged
her forehead with her hands, trying to figure out how to explain. "I was working in the stables, and I was
trying to figure out what was going on.
I started thinking about the dream, and then—then I was there. I was in the
dream again, I wasn't just remembering it.
I could hear everything they said, feel everything they did… It was
horrible. And I couldn't get out. Cloud had to bite me." She smiled weakly and showed him the cut on
her elbow. The speech seemed to have
drained her.
Numair was staring out the
window, looking angry. He looked back
at Daine, and held onto her shoulders.
A sparkle of black fire played around his wrists. "May I?" he asked.
Daine knew he wanted to
probe her with his gift. She nodded,
and closed her eyes. The fire crept
into the heart of her magic, poking around here and there, and strengthening her
as it did so. She opened her eyes and
noticed that Numair was frowning, his eyes still closed. She felt his magic leave her own, then creep
up her body, around her heart, then up her neck into her head. You'd better not go trying to read my
mind, she thought in his direction. Then the room swayed, and went black.
6
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