Here's my first Tortallan fanfiction, or at least that's what I'm calling it so far. Please read and review, feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated.
This is based after the Song of the Lioness, and the Immortals Quartet. You will see lots of the characters from those books. *cough* NUMAIR! *cough*
It happened in a flash, one moment the night sky was nothing but a swirling mass of dark abyss, the next it was lit by the brilliant glare of a vibrant flare of lightning. The deafening roar of thunder sounded immediately after the lighting.
A frail girl dressed in a smudged tunic and patched breeches found herself trapped by bandits.
The bandits came forth at her at a slow gait, they had her trapped, the mucky walls of the lower city surrounded her on three sides in an alley way. The bandits stood blocking the only way out. They closed in now, going for the kill. One of them lunged, a gleaming dagger in one hand, he snatched hold of the girls arm in the other. The gleaming dagger caught her in the lower left side.
The girl shrieked in fear, and orange flames of magic encircled her, hurling both bandits back. The warmth of the blazing magic died off, and the girl collapsed to the ground.
George crouched over the shivering form as the storm faded, leaving the night cold and wet. The thief held his tunic pressed against the girls wounded side to stanch the flow of blood. The bodies of the bandits close by, their deaths a puzzling mystery for George. The light aura of vibrant orange light flickered into view around the girl in George's Sight. He sighed and slipped his arms around the girl, lifting her into his arms as he started for the castle.
King Jonathan stared at George in bewilderment as he slipped into the King's study, he was shirtless and drenched, his tunic wrapped around the still form in his arms.
"George, what's wrong?" Jon asked, confusion clouding his handsome face. George's hazel eyes were dark with an emotion Jon couldn't quite name. The King's eyes drifted to the wounded girl in George's arms, he waved a servant over and hurriedly asked for a healer to be sent to his study immediately.
"What happened?" The King demanded as he helped George settle the girl on a large padded chair. Her dark hair was short and rain soaked, similar to the rest of her, Jon guessed she must be eight years old, at the most. The tunic and breeches she wore were torn and tattered. Blue magic swirled around Jon's fingertips as the orange aura flared to life once more around the girl. He looked up at George.
"She's Roger's daughter…" The King whispered breathlessly.
George nodded, "I thought it best for you to make the decision of what to do with her."
Jon was shaking his head, "I won't take a life so young, not even if it's tainted by the treachery of one's father."
George watched in silence as the King tightened his hand into a fist, the orange aura around the girl flickered and died as Jon drained away her magic. In collected around his hand slowly, leaving the girl with nothing but a small trickle of magic, just enough to keep her alive.
"No one has to know," Jon whispered.
The sun hung high in the sky, flooding the lively city of Corus with vibrant noon sunshine and warmth. The summer air was thick and humid, every now and then clouds cast shadows over the city, among the bustling cobblestone streets of Corus was a lone rider, mounted upon the back of a long legged stallion, it's bronze coat glittering with sweat. The Rider was dressed in the simple attire of a traveler, worn breeches and a dusty tunic, along with a light cloak with the cowl thrown back onto slim shoulders. The rider nudged their horse easily through the crowded streets with the grace of someone with much riding experience.
Soon the horse slowed, having escaped the slums of Corus and ridden into the more civilized parts of the city they stopped in front of the University of Corus. A tall lanky man, with his dark hair tied back into a neat pony tail and a long black robe wrapped around him carried a stack of books as he made his way up the street towards the palace.
"Numair!" The mage turned abruptly as the rider spurred their horse forward to catch up to him, they kicked their feet free of the stirrups and half leaped for him. Numair grasped his young attacker in a tight hug.
"Kira," Numair gasped as the breath was driven from his lungs by the impact of the slim shouldered girl against his side. He was smiling and hugging her one handedly as he shuffled books in his free hand. Dark auburn hair fell around the girls face in a disorganized fashion, tan skin framed a set of muddled blue eyes and a slightly crooked nose. Kira detached herself from Numair to get a better look at her old friend. She smiled wickedly up at him.
"How's my favorite lazy mage been?" She asked in a light voice as she grinned with her teeth, it was the grin of a cunning wolf.
"Fairly well," He said and gestured for them to continue walking, Kira trotted along side Numair, her grin never fading as her horse plodded along behind her. "and you?"
"Pirate's Swoop was great!" Kira exclaimed excitedly, "I learned a lot from George, and the weather was great, I went swimming almost every day."
Numair smiled, it was something that was hard not to do in the presence of someone as lively as Kira. The girl was lively and overly energetic as she half hopped along up the street beside Numair. Her short auburn hair was as untamable as her spirit, though it was bereft of any knots or tangles it was forever disheveled. Kira was only just sixteen, without a care in the world as she moved from place to place in search of adventure.
"Numair, I had no idea you were going to propose!" Kira exclaimed, holding a small velvet case with a diamond ring in it. Numair checked the pocket of his robe to find the ring was missing.
"Kira, how did you-"
Kira smiled and passed the ring back to him, "I spent a month with George, honestly Numair you should be more up to speed than this. So have you asked Daine yet? What did she say? When's the wedding?"
Before Kira could propose another question a boom of thunder cut through the common sounds of the city, the clouds overhead rumbled deeply as they blotted out the sun. A heavy rain drop splashed onto Numair's shoulder, he frowned as he realized they'd have to finish the walk to the castle in the pouring rain, he tucked his books under his robe and watched as raindrops dotted the rapidly clearing path before them.
Commoners scrambled under the shelter of the building and many market stands on the edges of the street. Beside Numair, Kira was mounting Gilly, her trusty steed. She gestured for Numair to do the same, "I don't think you want to get wet," She told him as she held a hand out to him. Numair took it and pulled himself astride the horse. He slipped arm around Kira's waist as she kicked Gilly forward into a gallop.
Gilly tossed his head wildly, enjoying the sudden burst of freedom.
They rode into the palace stables just as the shrieking wind and pelting rain picked up. Lightning arced across the sky overhead in jagged lines, Kira stared, bewildered at them as she dismounted Gilly lithely. Numair had already done so, and though he was evenly soaked he was glad to find his books were dry beneath his damp robe.
Gilly tossed his head again, his clear sign of enjoyment, Kira patted his neck. "That's m' boy." She told him, grinning from ear to ear. Kira was in no better shape than Numair, and her cloak was sodden as was the rest of her. A stable hand came to fetch Gilly, and Kira bade him a soft farewell before she followed Numair into the warmth of the Castle, she carried saddlebags in one hand and a sheathed sword in the other.
Kira stood in a dark forest, mist hung heavy in the air, making the shadows shift and swirl in the scarce moonlight overhead. Her usual care free demeanor was shattered as a lone figure stepped forth from the fog shrouded trees. Standing at a little over six feet, the man towered over her. He had brownish black hair and striking blue eyes, a haze of orange light pulsed around him. Duke Roger of Conte smiled and took his only daughter in his arms. Kira hugged him tightly, not wanting to forget the brush of his sorcerer's robe against her skin or the earthy scent of him.
"It's been a long while since I've visited you Kira," he said as they parted.
"I know, I missed you Da."
Roger beamed and Kira's eyes danced with joy. "I've missed you as well. There's something I want to give you, something that rightfully belongs to you." The duke reached a hand forth to clasp hands with Kira, their interlocked hands became laced with orange magic that slid from Roger to Kira.
Kira watched in fascination as the warm magic sparked through her hands, tickling her fingertips as it began to rapidly spread through her. Roger let go of her hands so she could stare in wonder at the bright aura of orange magic that flared to life around her. On her right palm swirled a pale crescent, Kira stared at Roger in confusion.
"Use it wisely," He told her as his shape faded away into the nothingness that closed down on Kira as her dream blended into a calm sleep.
The sound of a servant pounding on Kira's door woke the girl late the next morning.
"Kira, Kira!"
Kira struggled out of bed, falling onto the floor with blankets and covers trailing after her. The door opened and a perky looking blonde maid stormed in. Her sky blue dress and snow white apron accented her silky blonde curls that hung to her shoulders. Kira offered a smile to Loraine as she staggered to her feet.
"Morning Lory." She said as she replaced the covers on the bed. Loraine glared at her.
"I can't believe this! Here you are, back at the castle, and you don't even bother to get up before noon!"
Kira frowned, "It's past noon?"
Loraine nodded fiercely. Kira leaped up and went for a trunk at the end of her bed, she began tugging out breeches and a clean tunic.
"What's the rush?" Loraine asked, her anger fading slightly from her pretty face.
"I was supposed to meet with the King today, to give him my reports," Kira told her as she stripped off her night shirt and began pulling on clean clothes. Kira had spent the last year and a half as one of the King's royal spies. In her latest expedition she had traveled to the Copper Isles, she'd made detailed maps of the Isles that she planned to give to the King, and returned home to Tortall to spend a few relaxing months at Pirate's Swoop. Now it seemed her vacation was over.
"Kira, Kira, what will you do next?"
Kira tugged on her boots and gathered a small satchel from her saddlebags that held her reports and maps of the Copper Isles, "Apologize to the King, and take a nap."
Loraine rolled her eyes as Kira slipped from the room, the girl was forever tripping over her feet in life. Loraine was convinced that Kira would dig her own grave before she filled it.
So this is my first fiction about the Tamora Pierce books, so please let me know if I should continue this or not. Feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated.
