A Life Less Ordinary: Chapter 21
By Sulia Serafine
[1-7-01. This is a Protector of the Small fanfic; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!
MY FIRST CHAPTER FOR THE NEW YEAR!
I'd also like to thank those who gave me help with the character descriptions. Your names will be in the "closing credits" of the new stories as soon as I do them. If anyone else want to help me, please e-mail me at silverwLng@aol.com, okay? I'm finally getting around to working on my tiny website, and there's a new section for my Tortall stories. I'll tell you the address when I deem it worthy to be seen by you. Enjoy the chapter, I know you've been waiting for it!]
It was two hours until dawn when the woman's voice woke Joren. At first, she whispered to him, slight suggestions of rising up from his bed mat. He mentally swatted at it like a fly buzzing around his ear. He turned over on his mat at least a dozen times before groaning into the crook of his sleeve.
"Joren."
"Go away," he thought, having recognized the woman's voice once more. "Can't it wait?"
"Destiny waits for no man."
He chuckled to himself. "Oh, yes. I can feel the dramatic overtone in this one."
"Be serious. This is important."
Joren sat up. He frowned. "Don't call me boy. I hate that." He grouchily reached for his jacket and yanked it over his head. Then, he fumbled with the twisted sleeves. He took the jacket off, untwisted the sleeves, and put it on again. He called out, "So what is it?"
"Remember what I told you? About the Emperor?"
He nodded. Joren got on his knees and packed up his bedroll. Next, he looked around to make sure everyone was still asleep. With him were Faleron, his younger brother, and a few men at arms from King's Reach. Then he stood up and walked over to where the horses were. Fortunately, his was farthest away from the camp and awoke without much noise. He stroked the horse's nose, calming him down before it panicked. "So, where do I go?"
"You won't have to go far on this plane. Why don't you head out fourteen steps east from the campfire and I'll give you further instructions there."
Joren scratched his head, trying to remember which way was east. When he figured that out, he mapped out fourteen steps in his mind. He grimaced inwardly. "You want me to go to the latrine? Now? Killing the stupid Emperor requires a trip to the latrine first?"
The voice held no humor, or if she did-- she did not reveal it to him. "I didn't know it was the latrine. But now that you mention it, go ahead and make use of the latrine before we head out."
Joren shuffled over to the latrine. "By Mithros' shield…"
"I want to brief you now on what will be happening."
His face turned bright red. "Do you really want to talk when I'm at the latrine? I'm kind of busy here!"
"Oh, yes. I forgot. What, should I turn my back?"
"Like you have a back to turn…" Joren muttered. A few minutes later, he emerged from the latrine behind the bushes and mounted his horse. "Okay. I'm ready."
"Take the cat into your hand."
"What cat?" he asked bewildered. "You mean, that little ivory one?"
"Yes."
He did as he was told, although he had no idea what the ivory cat had to do with anything. "I have it now. What next?"
"Command a portal to appear leading to the Emperor's store room in his great palace. Once you arrive, you will find weapons waiting for you suitable to the task."
At that instruction, he froze. The little cat could open a portal? If he had known it could do that, he would've kept it for himself more than half a year ago at winter. He shrugged and summoned a portal. A black hole appeared in the air in front of him. His horse neighed in surprise. Joren stroked its mane, trying to calm it down again. For a moment, he thought he saw a purple bit of fur in the black hole.
He shivered. "Do I go into the portal now?"
"Yes."
He nodded and goaded his frightened horse forward. When it wouldn't move, he dismounted and led it by the reins. He opted to half shut his eyes as he approached the portal. It was simply black-- no shadow nor ray of light. It was like the space did not exist in that small hole, and if Joren stepped inside, he wouldn't exist either.
"How much different is non-existence and death anyhow? Death supposedly has an afterlife, but I don't care much about that." He thought to himself and opened his eyes. "Oh Gods…"
He entered the portal.
~~
"So, you forgive me for yelling at you?" Keladry asked.
Egavar tapped his chin. "Well, I don't know…"
"What!" She stomped on his foot. The Nodestrum cried out and grabbed his foot.
"I mean, yes! I forgive you! I forgive you for that, too!" he said loudly. Keladry shook her head. "At least you still have a sense of humor, Kel. It's good to see that. I thought you'd gone all suicidal like last time."
"Suicidal? Whom do you take me for?" she glared at him mockingly.
"Well, you have to admit-- you were really depressed when um, Owen died." He coughed softly.
She nodded. Her gaze drifted toward the floor where it remained. The silence grew until Egavar decided to pick up the conversation again. "If you're asking forgiveness from me about earlier, than does that mean you and Joren--"
"No," she interrupted. "It simply means that I could have talked with you in a more agreeable manner than yell. It doesn't mean that Joren and I…" She trailed off on purpose since Egavar knew what she meant. When Keladry saw his skeptical expression, she added, "He had his chance. I'm not out hunting for another broken heart. It's his problem now." She paused. "And besides-- we have the Mirans to worry about. Who has the time for love?"
She walked away, calmer than the previous time. Egavar frowned.
"Love? Oh, I'd say you care. You always did try to hide it with that mask of yours."
At the end of the day, Numair found Egavar by Balor's Needle. The Tortallian mage seemed distressed. His face was paler than usual and his clothes were wrinkled-- almost like he slept in them. "There's a problem."
"What problem?"
"You know that portal? The one leading to your world?" Numair asked with a nervous air.
Egavar nodded slowly. He did not like his friend's tone one bit. "What about it?"
"When I was examining it from the top of Balor's Needle, I sensed another one just like it."
"WHAT?"
Numair held up his hands. "Listen to me for a moment. It was very far away. A few days' ride, most likely. As soon as I felt its existence, the portal outside our palace walls wavered." He hesitated. The mage searched his mind for the right words… the right phrases. "I have reason to believe that the presence of this second 'gateway' weakens the first. Egavar, if the first one shuts and we cannot find the second one--"
"The Mirans are staying here forever," Egavar finished. He closed his eyes. "This is unbelievable."
"I haven't had the chance to tell anyone else. Come, we must inform them immediately. Maybe we can send out a party to find the second portal and make sure it leads back to the other plane."
The two mages rushed across the open area besides Balor's Needle. Nobles and guards passing by stopped to watch two of the most dignified men in the palace run like two nervous jackrabbits. And then, a loud noise erupted from somewhere beyond the palace walls. The fighting was beginning again.
~~
"You are resistant to your own power. Don't let yourself be drawn in to your own tricks."
"I… I don't understand you. You keep saying the same things, but I just can't grasp the… the meaning…"
"Remember what I tell you. And always trust me."
"Why should I? Everything you've said and done to me has a supernatural reaction that I can't explain."
"You detest me? Or do you fear me?"
"A little bit of both. I detest you for making me feel I can blindly follow your orders without any substantial doubt."
"And you fear my power to do so."
"Yes."
~~
Joren opened his eyes. The stone floor of the storeroom was cold against his clammy cheek. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. For a few seconds in time, he felt like he was slipping in and out of existence. One moment, he could feel the solid floor beneath him. Another, he was floating in empty air.
"My body feels like it turned into a billion pieces and is still trying to put itself back together," he muttered, gasping for air. Cold sweat dripped from his chin. He wiped it off on his forearm. Joren turned around and sat on his bottom, surveying his surroundings. "Where is my horse?'
It was beyond the palace. It was waiting for him under a tree that was bent and twisted almost as in torture. He could see the animal now, unsteadily trotting around the trunk. It snorted at its new location and skittishly galloped past anything that moved. The shade was nice where the horse was. And the grass was a beautiful, almost dreamy shade of green. No color was like that in reality. It had to be magic, to keep it looking so ideally green.
"My mind's floating everywhere, too," he whispered, "if I could see the horse. Where am I?"
Shelves stocked with jars lined the walls. Barrels and sacks were stacked around him. There was only one opening. It was the door to his left. He took a deep breath and stood up. "The store room." He bit his lip. "Hey!" he mentally projected. "Hey, are you there?"
He eagerly listened for a response.
"Where are you? Why won't you answer me?" he asked softly. "You're the one who led me here. I don't know where to go."
As if to answer his prayers, a bundle fell from a shelf above him and struck his head. He cried out and stumbled forward. "Ouch! What the…" He whirled around and crouched down. Joren untied the thin cord around the burlap bundle. It revealed a crossbow with twelve bolts of excellent quality. Then there was a dagger with leather strips tied around the handle, and last, a map. He nearly grinned when he saw a sword in its scabbard propped up against a barrel. Joren drew the sword from its sheath and tested its weight. It was perfectly suited to his usual balance and grip. He sheathed it again and picked up the map.
Joren chuckled. "At least I know where to go now. " He traced a dotted line on the map with his finger, through several rooms and hidden passageways until he came to the throne room. His breath caught in his throat. "The Miran Emperor."
Then, reality hit him like a ton of bricks.
"I have to assassinate the Emperor."
~~
After that, something took over him. His fear, his doubt, his uncertainty… all of it washed away as something stronger took hold of his body and forced it to sneak along the route outlined in the map. He ran across the stone floors so fluidly, it was like he was gliding. And the whole time, Joren couldn't control his own body.
"I'm being flung forward by destiny," he mused as he neared a corner. Beyond it, two burly guards stood sentinel in front the throne room doors. Rationality told him to find another entrance. He backtracked all the way to an open window by the end of the main hall. Something told him to look down. His footsteps appeared on the overly plush red velvet carpet that covered the end of the hall. He smoothed it over with his right foot and stepped back onto the stone floor.
He examined a shut window. There were carvings of birds and animals on the thick wood. He couldn't fathom how happy and cheery things such as those wooden shutters ended up in the palace of the Mirans. The blonde Tortallian pushed it out of his mind. His concentration went back to finding a way to the throne room. Joren inspected his sword, making sure it was fastened tightly to his side in its scabbard. The dagger was in his boot and the crossbow was slung on his back.
Cautiously, he opened the shutters and looked out. All was peaceful. The gray sky did not threaten to cry its tears. The wind blew hard, though. This kind of wind reminded him of the wind he felt on sea-bordering cities.
"Note to self: Check the location of the palace later for any bodies of water," he muttered monotonously and leaned out. It was almost perfect. The large ancient flagstones making up the outer layer of the palace provided handholds and footholds for him. He leaned a little further. The roof looked secure enough to sneak upon. Were there guards?
"On the roof? In this windy weather?" he thought. "If there are, oh well."
He climbed out the window and clung to the side of the palace. Then he closed the shutters by nudging it with his left foot. Bit by bit, Joren made his way onto the roof and breathed a sigh of relief. It was hard to believe he was haphazardly scaling the palace walls to the throne room to assassinate the Emperor of Mira.
"This is really it," he thought and slumped down to a sitting position. He moved his sword when the hilt poked him in the ribs. "Damn. I'm really doing this. I can't be doing this." He gritted his teeth. "I'm no hero. I'm just an ordinary guy who got lucky for the last four years and managed to live. I don't need this… this pressure."
He looked expectantly up at the sky. "Well? Where are you? Voice! You took me here! Tell me what to do! How does one really go about killing the most important man in the world?" He stood up and paced. "Do I just take aim with the godforsaken crossbow and let the bolt fly? What if there is a magical shield? How can there not be any defense against something like this?!"
The wind started to lash out at him. He threw his arms up over his head as the wind forcefully slammed into him. He braced himself against it. "Stop this! Stop all of this! I don't want to do it!"
The wind stopped. He gasped. Joren's eyes widened as he peered about. No one was present but he. He ran a hand nervously through his hair like always and quietly walked across the room back to above the throne room. He found a few more secure handholds in the stone wall and lowered himself beside a painted glass window. A thin layer of grime covered it. Apparently, no one looked over the maintenance of the painted glass.
He came as close as he dared to a square of pale yellow glass. Joren squinted to look through. There were quite a few people inside. Men and women in fine clothing and jewelry all looked toward a blue-veiled woman seated on a throne and a tall blonde man whose back was turned to them as he gazed up at the painting of the palace from decades before.
"The Emperor," he breathed. He lowered himself down to another window. This one had a small hole in the top corner. He leaned down to listen as well as look through the colored glass. The acoustics of the throne room allowed all their words to echo to him. He could hear them as if he were standing beside them.
"… The gateway to the other plane is wavering, your Highness. It is difficult for us to communicate messages to our generals on the other side."
The Emperor, whose back was still turned, raised a gloved hand and gestured for someone else to speak. A man with midnight black hair and mustache stepped forward.
"The last report did state that we were breaking through the palace's defense."
The woman with the veil-- the Empress-- spoke. "I have been informed that a Nodestrum from Lon Falas has arrived on the other plane and is aiding them. We do not know what this magus knows. If it would be approved, I want to withdraw our forces."
The Emperor shook his head. But at the moment, Joren didn't care about the emperor. He stared at the empress. His heart almost stopped beating. The wound over his heart throbbed. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack.
"Her voice," he whispered. "It's… it's her! She's the voice in my head."
The Empress calmly turned her head in his direction. She obviously knew his every move, and seemed pleased that he figured out who she was. What Joren couldn't understand was-- why did the Empress want her own husband assassinated? What role did she have in this?
Apparently, she was still reading his thoughts because she lifted up her veil to answer his question.
Her dainty nose. The dreamy hazel eyes. The ghosts of youthful freckles and light brown hair that glinted both auburn and blonde in direct sunlight. It all came crashing down on him wave after wave. He would've let go of the wall in shock if he weren't clinging to it in desperation.
"… Kel? The Empress is Kel's counterpart?"
She smiled in his direction and nodded imperceptibly. She called softly, "My Lord, please sit. You are tired, are you not?"
The Emperor turned and looked at her fondly. "I thank your considerate thoughts, my Empress, but no. I do not feel inclined to rest yet."
Joren moved away from the window in fear that he would scream and give away his position. He clumsily started to climb back to the roof. He did this without caution, seeming to forget how many feet up above ground he was. When he finally reached the level roof, he flung himself up and landed with a grunt. And he stayed in that sprawled position as he played over the latest image in his mind again and again.
"The Emperor…" he choked. "The Emperor… is me?"
~~
Author: I couldn't help releasing the chapter early. There was change in schedule at school. My exams will last till the 11th, so I took the opportunity of a weekend to get this done now. But after this, I'm seriously postponing the next chapter until all my exams are cleared and I am settled into my new classes. I know, I know. I do too many cliffhangers. But how else do I keep you guys hooked, huh? Please tell me what you think. Take care.