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Remembering
Chapter 1: Lost Lies
REFORMATTED
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A/N 15.4.07: Right! I've gone through the entire story and re-written it: added some extra bits, taken some stuff out, and generally made it better! Thanks to everyone out there who emailed me about this story- yes, I am finishing it, yes, I'm doing it this year, just needed to reformat it first.
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The ship sailed at twilight, melding into the heat haze effortlessly and disappearing from her life.
She didn't know how they'd convinced him to stay with them, how they'd kept him from staying in the hot, sultry land. She only knew that she was alone, more alone than she'd been for years.
A tear traced slowly down her cheek as she remembered every other person she had lost to get to this point. Her ma, her village… everything had been taken from her.
She had thought that now, things would be better. He had taken her hand and drawn her away from the pain, the madness, into his world. The pain had died away, and she had forgotten. For a few brief years, the world seemed beautiful and free. Like a fool, she had thought it would last forever.
She had known friends, companions, who loved her in their own way and had been there for her. Now she had nothing.
Even her friends in this alien land had been taken from her. She swallowed, feeling sick as she remembered the vivid dreams she knew to be true. Zek was dead, the marmoset murdered by the man who now held her prisoner. Kitten, enchanted and confined…
Even the Gods had abandoned her, as they'd abandoned that whole land.
She didn't even try to escape. What was the point? She had no-one left to turn to, and nowhere to go. Maybe a few years ago she would have tried, but now she was alone. Abandoned…
She stared at the white plaster wall and remembered. There was nothing else to do. Shadows stood starkly out underneath her dulled eyes, salt clung to her long eyelashes. Soft brown curls tangled down her back, unkempt and uncombed. The elegant green wool dress she wore could have been a rag for all the regard she wore it with.
She remembered.
Ozorne had unlocked the door as soon as her friends had left. His gilded eyes gleamed; his whole demeanor was that of a victorious knight who had won the war. He grinned, gloated, and grimaced at her when she persistently ignored him.
"You should be grateful. You're a poor penniless child." His voice was harsh and authoritative, but became cloyingly sweet, "Here, you can have everything you've ever dreamed of. They didn't appreciate you and they never would have. All they cared about was getting you to fight for them- if you were a kitchen maid, they wouldn't care two figs about you. They didn't even wait for you before they left."
He rested a hand heavy with rings on her shoulder in what he must have thought was a comforting gesture. She shook the hand off and stepped away from him. "Those are my friends you're lying about." She snapped, fury burning in her eyes.
The Emperor shook his head tolerantly, as if she were a disobedient child. "I like you, Veralidaine. My birds must love you too, I know."
"They will peck your eyes out the instant you enter their cage." She replied coldly. From the next room, she could hear muffled cheeps as the birds in the aviary detected her anger and were frightened by it. Ozorne smiled indulgently and shook his head.
"You should be more grateful for what I'm going to do for you, Veralidaine. I have a gift for you to help you understand your new position." He gestured to a slave outside the door, who bowed and handed the emperor a large metal ring. The loop resembled a bracelet, in thickness and style, although it was far too large to fit around a wrist. Daine's blood ran cold as she saw it. Ozorne's smile widened nastily.
"I see you already know what this is. Good." He ran a shining finger along the edge of the ring, which commenced to glow. "As you can see, this collar has been specially adapted to block any magic use, and that includes wild magic. I'm not quite as behind in my research as your…ex-teacher liked to believe."
It was useless to resist, in a small enclosed room with two burly slaves standing guard at the door. Instead, she stood straight and proud as he broke the ring in two and clipped it around her throat, pushing back the mess of curls gently to expose the skin.
"There. I'll leave you to think." The Emperor released his hold on the ring and gently caressed the girl's cheek. Daine flinched away and glared at him as he left the room, sealing the door behind him.
It was only when the footsteps receded that she sank to the floor, tearing at the collar and where he had touched her, screaming and crying bitter tears.
Not two corridors away, Ozorne was grinning to himself, the gold paint around his eyes cracking with the unfamiliar smile-lines. He strolled along beside his entourage of slaves, humming a jig under his breath and congratulating himself on his incredible success.
In one simple action he'd started a war that he'd easily win, acquired a new slave to care for his birds, and got revenge on the traitorous man who cared for her. Maybe the damn fool even loved her! The agony he must be feeling! The emperor rubbed his hand together with glee, reveling in the thrill of revenge.
Not that he thought the traitor would sit on his hands and do nothing. No, Ozorne was sure he'd come back. It was all part of the simple, sweet plan. Ultimate revenge: humiliation, pain and death. He'd show that he was no soft ruler, ready to let traitors come and go as they pleased. The arrogant Tortallans would learn that the hard way, while the rest of the world admired his benevolence in not targeting them. Tortall would suffer, and the people would love him for it.
And then there was the girl, Veralidaine. Beautiful, talented- and she despised him. Perfect. It would be hard to conform her to the slave's way of life, but by no means impossible. If he knew anything about mages, most would do anything to get their powers back. Or their pet dragons. Ozorne mentally added wryly.
He had a lot to bargain with, and nothing to lose.
War.
A constant thunder of footsteps, of couriers knocking on your door, of people needing your advice, when all you really wanted to do was be alone. But of course that's the last thing they want you to do. They want you to forget about friendship, about years of never being separated. Comrades in arms.
Laugh together. Cry together. Sharing thoughts, dreams, experiences. Seeing the world through new eyes. Caring when they're in pain, laughing when they laugh. Drying tears. Laughing. Crying.
War, though, is not about friendship.
"We're at war, damn it!" Yelled King Jonathan, resisting the urge to shake the taller man, shake him out of the strange mood he dwelled in. Numair broke out of his thoughts and glared at the irate monarch.
"Yes. I had noticed." He said dryly, commencing his pacing of the small room. Myles watched him, his eyes understanding but hard. The whole argument had started from his issuing the mage a mission, and suddenly the room seemed to have exploded. He idly wondered if Alanna's ability to start fights was catching.
"If you know, then you should bloody listen to your instructions!" Spat Jon, throwing himself sulkily on a hard chair.
"I heard you just fine." The tall mage stopped for a second, then changed direction and paced again. "I just… refuse to comply with your wishes. I think they're irrational and misguided, to be honest."
Jon made a strangled noise and looked at Miles for support. The older man shrugged, trying to hide his amusement. Surely Jon realized that Numair would only agree to do the one mission they could not give him? Miles had decided that from being in the same room for two minutes, and he barely knew the man. No, they were both too busy glaring at each other to think about it.
"Explain." The king snapped shortly.
"I don't see how my spying in Galla…" Numair cleared the clogging memories from his throat loudly and tried again. "I don't see how my spying in Galla will aid you. We're at war with Carthak, not them. And if anything happens, I'll be too far away to return…so, unable to fight."
"Ozorne is smart enough to send spies through our peaceful neighbors." Jonathan started.
"We simply can't risk you returning to Carthak, Numair." Cut in Myles softly, deciding it had gone far enough. "It's too dangerous for you there. I'm very sorry."
"I can look after myself!" The mage snapped, stung.
"But, if you go, you won't be the one you're looking out for, will you." Jon didn't even to bother phrasing it as a question. His eyes were frustrated, but held a hint of pity. "I'm really sorry. Everyone who is going will search for Daine, you know that."
"No-one in Carthak will have the time or the resources to care for an unarmed girl, especially if she's been hurt. And they're all spies- they can't jeopardize themselves by getting involved. Rescue attempts are certainly out of the question. Everyone's looking out for their own skins." Replied Numair frostily. Jon nodded slowly. Myles broke the long silence in the end.
"Numair- we know you care for her more than any of us. Please remember this wasn't an easy decision for us either. And, before you throw your life away in a futile attempt to find our wildmage, know this: Daine cares for you more than she likes her animals, or loves kitten. I've seen it in the way she talks to you, the way that you're the first person she defends when you're under attack. She wouldn't want you to destroy yourself over meager hopes."
Numair stared at the older man, his dusky skin paling. Without a word he spun on his heel and left the room. Jon moved to follow him, but the older man stopped him.
"Let him go. Let him think."