Hand of Destiny
Chapter One
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst, Fantasy, Drama
Pairing: Damien/Silvara, Jade/Nathaniel, Sarai/Alex
Rating: M/R (Though it's T for now…)
Notes: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. For awhile I lost/forgot my login info. Plus, I just haven't felt up to working on this in awhile. Be patient with me still, because I'm working on a novel right now, so if updates are few and far between I hope you'll have the dedication to keep reading.
Jade did not consider herself a fickle witch, nor did she think she could be easily dissuaded from her goals. However, as she woke the next morning in a cheap Terreillean inn, she just might have given in to everyone's demands that she cease her silly task. Her body hurt so badly from travel and the ague that was devouring her inside and out, she could hardly get out of bed.
But she did, regardless of the pain, as she did every morning.
Jade was the kind of witch who would push herself to and beyond the breaking point over and over again, if only to prove that she could. Stubborn, some might call her. Pig-headed, even. Not very flattering words, but there they were, two irrefutable parts of Jade's personality.
Had Nathaniel been awake and sensed Jade's weakness, however, he may have pounced on it and convinced her to go back to Kaeleer, where their friends and family and lives waited for them. He was quite lost to sleep though, and barely stirred when Jade crept from her bed.
The black haired woman washed as best she could from the basin of cold water. It's true, she could have used a warming spell to bring it to a higher temperature, or sparked a tongue of witch-fire to heat it. All of these things Jade considered to be quite wasteful of precious energy. Besides, the cold water was a way to wake herself up and chase the weakness from her bones.
As she washed, she stared at a stranger's face in the tarnished mirror over the basin. Her cheekbones were high and prominent with a light natural blush to them. It was startling in contrast to her pale skin. Her nose was a razor sharp line down the middle of her face. The girl's lips were full and made to make males beg for just a taste, though the woman who owned them did not use them in such a manner. The most dominating feature on Jade's face though, according to the young woman's opinion, was her eyes. They were large and slightly slanted, colored a shade of green so unique it could only be called her namesake. The lashes were thick and numerous. Her eyebrows—finely shaped—arched high over those eyes, only adding to the majesty of them.
All in all, it was the face of a beautiful woman. Not a warrior, which is what Jade considered herself to be. Therefore she seemed to punish herself by denying her femininity, her one vanity being that of the long, black hair she kept pulled back in a braid that dangled down to her toned buttocks.
Those who knew Jade knew her history quite well. Her mother, the infamous Kiana Darkk, was a skilled assassin in Terreille before the Purge. She trained her daughter in the only lifestyle she knew, and it was a creed that Jade still followed today. Thus the warrior-woman forced herself to dress in breeches and a shirt, followed by sturdy boots, all black, of course, despite the fact that it pained her to do so.
With the same stalwart attitude, she went downstairs and exited the inn to use their outdoor property as a training ground. Jade went through her exercises with a devotion that most could not hope to attain, pushing the weakness away from her. Woman battled warrior, and the warrior won out.
But this warrior was also a witch, a Black Widow Queen, at that, who wore a Gray Jewel. She was one of the generation to which Blood power and ability was returning in full-force. And these were the things that drove her also.
Beyond and above that all, was the fact that she was Mutare. A race of shapechangers or some might call them lycanthropes. Those who had both human and animal forms. Once upon a time, the Mutare had been as common among the lands as…oh, let's say Chaillot. An island people, they were somewhat isolated, but still traded and associated with the other races. However, a powerful Mutare Queen, who was also a Black Widow, had seen in her tangled web the coming taint that would shadow the lands. Rather than let it devour her people, she sank the island and cast a spell that would erase the traces of the Mutare from the rest of the world.
However, not all of the Mutare decided to stay with the island while it sank. Some escaped, vowing to live a life among humans and Blood, walking a delicate balance. Most forswore their animal forms, understanding their Queen's need for secrecy, and went into hiding.
This was the reason that Jade rose that day as she did every other day, to greet the dawn with sweat and exertion. It was her goal, her duty to raise Mutare from the sea, though it would be an exhausting task (and she wasn't quite sure how to accomplish it yet) and restore it to its glory. In all honesty, there was one ulterior motive to all this, and it was to find the cure to the Mutare ailment….
The mysterious ailment had plagued certain Mutare all their lives. Usually it set in sometime around adulthood, though for some it worked faster than others. The way it worked was that it slowly sapped your strength and energy, including that of your psychic strength, until eventually the body couldn't meet the supply and demand anymore. When that happened, death occurred.
This was the ailment that Gabrielle, the Queen of the Dae al Mon suffered from. It was held in suspension now by a spell crafted by herself, Silvara, and Sarai. Eventually though, without the cure, the spell would fail and Gabrielle would die.
Eventually Jade would die. And while she didn't necessarily care whether she lived or died, she much preferred breathing to the agony she would suffer before death.
Therefore it was necessary to find the cure, which existed in the form of a flower that grew only on Mutare in its lush jungle. Following that train of thought, it was also necessary that the island be raised from the sea.
It was this way of thinking that drove Jade to complete her exercises, and to return up to their room, even though she was exhausted.
When she returned to the inn's room, Jade found Nathaniel still sleeping, his deep auburn hair a silken tangle, and one foot peeking out from the bedcovers. Though physically exhausted, the black haired woman still had the wherewithal to be amused by the sight. She smiled charmingly, though no one was awake to witness it.
Determined to be nice to her companion while they were on this journey, despite the fact that he disagreed with it strongly, Jade thought that she would wake him up gently. Carefully, she perched on the edge of the bed, unable to resist the animal urge to groom those she held in affection. Her fingers began untangling his hair with small tugs. And then she began to sing in their native tongue a song Nathaniel had once confided to her that his mother had sung when he'd been a babe.
The redheaded man woke slowly to the sound of a soft, silky voice singing his favorite song. It was a very pleasant way to wake, and he immediately purred low in his throat. It was then that he became aware of the fingers gently moving his hair. That was even better. Nathaniel rolled over slowly, seeking the body that went with those fingers, knowing that it was one of his favorite people.
Gradually, his face came in contact with her leg, and he rubbed back and forth. Had he been in his animal form, he would have been scent marking her…his scent on her, and her's on him. As he was merely a person now, the action was just taken as a sign of affection, and he heard a fond, low chuckle in response to it.
"Wake up, Nathaniel," Jade prodded softly, "It's time to greet the day."
"Hmm…" he agreed, unenthusiastically.
"You never were a morning person," Jade murmured to herself, still playing with Nathaniel's long auburn tresses. She waited a few more minutes, then gave a not-so-playful tug of his hair. "Come on, Nathaniel," she said sternly and in a voice he was all too familiar with, "We've got to move on. It's off to Nehna to find our kin. I'm hoping they'll have some clue as to how, exactly, the Queen sank the isle."
With that, she threw him off of her, and stood up. Jade began to efficiently gather the few items she'd unpacked. Nathaniel sat up in bed, pouting sleepily, and looking quite rumpled. It was a good look on him, Jade had to admit.
GET UP! she finally sent to him on a psychic thread. It shocked him enough to widen his chartreuse eyes with their thick, girlish lashes, and make him leap out of bed. He looked even better naked, the black haired woman thought to herself. Of course, these were all things that she would never act upon. Acknowledgement and attraction were very different from action. Nathaniel was her friend, and she would never deign to ruin that relationship with such complicated things like romance and relationships.
"Alright, I'm up!" the redheaded man cried, as he stood there in his birthday suit, looking charmingly cross with his companion. He started pulling on his clothes, muttering under his breath about insane witches and their penchant for mornings. It made Jade choke back laughter. Instead she said aloud, "We've got to move on to Nehna, Nathaniel…today. I have to get in contact with the Farsi, if they're even still there."
"I know," Nathaniel agreed in a much mellower tone of voice, "I just…hate mornings." That he ended on a whine, and Jade rolled her eyes in response. "Really, now, Nathaniel," she responded, her voice indicative of disappointment.
"Let's just do this," he said, his voice suddenly serious. Jade silently agreed wholeheartedly. Really, the whole task was something she just wanted done and over with. It was taxing as it was. To think she had weeks, possibly months, ahead of her of just information gathering. Jade preferred a more active approach to life than that. Still, she wasn't foolish enough to think that she could raise an island by herself without the proper knowledge and tools.
With Nathaniel dressed and ready, the pair paid their bill with the innkeeper, and took their horses on the Winds as far as they could. Nehna, however, was a small village and did not have it's own web landing. Therefore they had to drop from the winds in a town called Varnie and take the rest of the way on horseback.
In Nehna, they could not outright ask if the Farsi were still there. They had to meander the village and see if they could sense any flux in a person's aura. It was the only way for one Mutare to identify another—it was how she and Nathaniel had known each other for what they were upon first meeting.
The reason they sought the Farsi—a group of Mutare that traveled together—was the slim possibility that they may have some knowledge or lore that would give Jade a clue as to the spell the Queen had used to sink the isle.
Nathaniel caught the first sign of a fluctuation.
He elbowed Jade subtly, and she drew her horse to a stop. Who? she asked on a thread. The man by the well, Nathaniel responded without mental inflection. Jade nodded and hopped off her horse, leading its way to the well. "Excuse me," she said to the man. He looked up and recognized her as another Mutare immediately. Jade could tell by the widening of his eyes. She gave what she hoped was a friendly smile. Are you Farsi? she asked the man. He nodded almost imperceptibly. I need to speak with your leader…privately.
The man smiled then, and told her, "Follow me."
Without even learning the man's name, Jade and Nathaniel were led to a house that was in need of some repair. "What have we here?" asked a man white-washing the fence. Jade smiled and tried not to show her distrust of strangers.
Jade was not a creature of impulse, so when she said she intended to meet with Deacon of Nehna to gather information it did not come as a surprise to Nathaniel. He was well-known among what had become the secret society of those who had been (and still secretly were) Mutare. What did surprise him, however, was the male puttering about in his garden wearing one of those silly, floppy fishing hats.
He was obviously the famous Deacon, judging by the amount of power emanating from him, and Nathaniel's own predator rose to the surface, sensing a possible threat. However, he'd expected someone more…intimidating, apparently lethal. What he saw was a man in good shape easily past the prime of his life. And a landen, at that. He ordered his inner beast to be at rest. Surely Jade wouldn't….
Jade politely thanked the Mutare who'd guided them, then turned her back, facing Deacon. An obvious dismissal. The man went away obediently. Secretly, Nathaniel was pleased. One less thing to rouse the beast within, the predator that was as much a part of him as his Blood heritage. Then Deacon turned to face them, curiosity lighting up his wrinkled, sun-tanned face, and the cat reared its territorial head again. Jade smiled at Deacon pleasantly, and though Nathaniel knew it was forced, that didn't stop the male in him from getting jealous. At least it kept the great cat at bay.
"Hello, Deacon," Jade said in her lovely low speaking voice. "Hello…I don't believe I know your name," the man replied, holding a rake defensively. Subtly, Nathaniel shifted in front of Jade so he could shield her, should the man decide to attack. "Jade Darkk," she replied, still acting nonchalant, "May I have a word in private?" Deacon seemed to take their measure, then invited them inside.
The interior of the cottage was Spartan. It didn't surprise Nathaniel as he'd already assessed the man as a bachelor. Jade took it all in with dead eyes that gave away nothing. Instead she imperiously helped herself to a seat and waited for Deacon to seat himself across from her. Nathaniel remained standing, wary.
"So what is it I can do for you, Lady?" Deacon asked. "We need information about how Mutare was sunk," Jade stated bluntly. "All I know are the legends," the man replied, "Nothing more. But you might try Prince Jecken of Frond. He's more a scholar than I am." Jade let a sigh of exasperation escape, and it was telling to Nathaniel of how tired of this journey she was already. "I can, however, get you some new clothes from Lady Tempest in Jang. It's right on your way to Frond. Mutare leather, the finest in Terreille."
Mutare leather was rare and hard to get a hold of. Most people didn't even know it existed, outside of the Mutare themselves. The significance behind Mutare leather was that it was made from the hides of Mutare who'd died in animal form. Now, this may seem barbaric to some, to wear the hides of your ancestors, but among the Mutare it was considered a great privilege. For there was something practical about it also—Mutare leather changed with you when you changed, instead of shredding like ordinary clothes. Then when you changed back, you were still fully dressed. The only catch was that your clothing had to be made from the animal you changed into.
The fact that Deacon was offering such a connection implied that he knew something was going on. Either that, or he was trying to win Jade's favor. Or tricking them. All three were a possibility. Nathaniel tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid, but knew better than that. There was always the possibility that someone would try to screw you over. He gave a mental sigh. Jade's paranoia was starting to rub off on him, and he used to be such a trusting fellow—naïve, Jade used to say.
Jade nodded and told Deacon that a letter of introduction to Lady Tempest would suffice, and directions to her business in Jang. After a brief pause, Deacon nodded and went to write the letter. When he returned, he told the pair how to find Lady Tempest and Prince Jecken, then Jade and Nathaniel took their leave of Deacon's cottage.
It was back to Varnie to catch the Gray Wind to Jang.
Nathaniel sensed it was going to be a long day.
When they dropped from the Gray Wind in Jang, Jade took measure of the small town. It was bustling with activity, and people swarmed the streets. Market day. Shit, it was going to be hard to meet with Lady Tempest today. She said as much to Nathaniel on a distaff to spear thread, and the redhead nodded his agreement.
Jade took the lead then, following Deacon's instructions on how to find Lady Tempest's shop. It was a quaint building with violet shutters and trim. The shop was located on the first floor. The second floor was probably an apartment.
Slowly, she pulled open the door, jingling the bell hanging above it, and braced herself for anything. The first thing the Black Widow Queen heard was swearing in a feminine voice. It seemed Lady Tempest lived up to her namesake. She smiled at Nathaniel and sent the thought to him. He chortled with laughter.
As they walked in the door, they heard a disgruntled cry of, "I'll be there in a damn minute." Nathaniel shrugged at Jade a flopped down in a cushy armchair. Jade perched on the arm, wanting to seem as casual as Nathaniel was, and waited…and waited…and waited.
A full thirty minutes passed before the shop's owner emerged from a back room. "I'm sorry about the wait," she said in a rough voice, "I just had to finish a seam…then I got distracted and it turned into two. When I get sucked into my work, I tend to ignore all else." The woman was tall and thin, with wild red hair, and shrewd brown eyes that hid behind glasses. She took one look at them and knew they were Mutare. Her eyes widened and she said in her no nonsense tone of voice, "What can I do for you?"
Jade called in the letter and handed it to her, saying, "Deacon sent us." Lady Tempest snatched the letter, ripped it open with an elongated nail and read it quickly once, then again with a much slower pace. Then she crumpled the paper up and vanished it. "I'll dispose of it properly later."
"…So," Tempest began, "Deacon promised you Mutare leather, did he?" Jade quirked an eyebrow at Nathaniel, indicating she wasn't sure whether to answer or not. He took over the conversation. "He mentioned you might be able to do so, if you have the time, Lady."
"Time is a precious commodity, Prince, and Mutare leather is something that takes a lot of it. It'll cost you. Do you have enough coin?" Lady Tempest asked, her words as blunt as her voice. "Does it matter?" Nathaniel asked in response. The lady laughed, and told them, "Of course not. I'd still charge you the same."
Nathaniel grinned charmingly at her, and Jade could visibly see her take an instant liking to him. Not being as good with people as he was, she simply resigned herself to being the third party in this situation. "Well, let's get your measurements, then draw up some sketches." The young Queen couldn't help but give a small smile of thanks. The clothes would definitely come in handy. At least she wouldn't have to get naked every time she needed to change shape. Now to spell her Jeweled collar so that it would change with her also…
Two hours later, the designs were settled upon and half the price was paid. They were told to return in two weeks (two weeks?!) for their clothes. It would put them behind schedule, but in the end would be well worth it. And she would have two weeks to figure out how to spell that collar. Perhaps she'd write Jaenelle and ask for her advice…if Jade had trouble, that was.
Their third stop of the day was much more informative than the first. Prince Jecken let Jade have free reign over his library and his font of spoken lore. She spent the day picking his brain and his books, gathering information and taking notes. It went against her nature to do so, being a warrior at heart, not a scholar, but she plowed on nonetheless.
…Nathaniel took a nap.
TBC…