Chapter 2 of this wonderful fic. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Warning: The Halfling knows mostly swears. Expect bad language.
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Chapter 2: The Halfling
The girl walked down the hallway, meekly. If you could call her a girl. She was prodded along by the butts of the two men's spears, and frightened to death. She had no name. No one had the thought to give her one, and she didn't know to give herself one. She wore nothing at all. But what made you notice her, what made you want to swear by every god that you knew, was her wings. They had feathers of steel, forever untarnished. She looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, with ragged nails and matted hair. She had lived alone as long as she could remember, alone and hungry. Her teeth were human, except for four at the front that made her look like a vampire. But she was no vampire. The guards called her a Halfling; she did not know what that meant. She ate only little, now she ate her own fear. That was what she craved, she craved fear. Now there was none but her own to sup upon.
"Captain!" one of the men said. "We found this… thing alone in the forest. We caught it sleeping, and we would like permission to put it in the Imperial Menagerie."
"Permission granted. It looks like the bastard of a human and a stormsing. A creature like this would happen one in a million times." The Captain walked off to supervise other troops.
The girl was marched down isles of cages, cages filled with immortals. They were scared, the girl relished that fear, the fear of the griffins, the hurroks, the coldfangs, the unicorns. They were either drugged or half-mad with their confinement, they were not let out or fed. She was then pushed and prodded into a cage of iron, where she immediately threw herself against the barrier. A flash of red, and she was thrown back. The cages were magically protected.
People came to see her, they pointed and laughed, and they taunted. She did not understand them, but slowly she began to. Soon she had a small vocabulary, mostly of insults. Nobody had ever said anything else in her presence. The cages kept things from going out, not from coming in, and she was pummeled with rocks and poked with sticks. Finally she gave up, and sat at the back of her cage, silent. Soon they went away; not interested in this Halfling that did nothing.
But she was only half immortal, and slowly, but surely, she began to starve. You could count her ribs, and her cheekbones jutted out like the flags of a sinking ship. Finally one of the guards noticed and gave her a slab of raw meat, which she ate ravenously, her sharp vamp-teeth cutting and tearing into the food. She was fed once every four months or so. She lived this way for one year, maybe two. Alone.
She was sixteen before she escaped. A girl, about two years older than her, came in, riding on a giant black beetle. She would never forget that day. The woman on the beetle was dressed in yellow, with a gold cape. She wore a helmet and carried a sword, and wore also a chain mail tunic. On the back of her cape there was insignia a black hornet on a copper diamond. Behind her was an army, but not what you would think of as an army. Hundreds upon hundreds of ants, ants the size of ponies marched in battle formation, following the yellow banner the back of the beetle.
The woman let all of the immortals out of their cages, and they joined the ants, to march in this army. The girl could not remember what happened next, only the rush of battle, of blood and gore. She ate half of what she killed; tearing mortal flesh and eating it while the owner was still alive. At the end, she sat down and feasted on the remains, not knowing whether to rejoice or to feel nauseated. She chose the former.
***
"Who, where from, and what are you?" The yellow woman stood over her, spear in hand. She could see hatred in that face, but it was not directed towards her. The Halfling pitied whoever was the focus of that hate.
The Halfling's voice was raspy from disuse. "I not know who I am. I lived in forest. They call me Halfling. Bitch, who are you?"
The woman filled with anger. "Do you know who you are talking to? I am Jaunne, the Hornet Queen."
The Halfling laughed. "They call me bitch. They call their women bitch. If you are not bitch, then what the hell are you?"
"I am a woman."
The Halfling gave her look for look. "So, woman, I know no other word. That is what they say to me, that is what they say to my friends. I am a bitch, whatever the fuck they call you."
"Your friends?" she asked.
"My wing-brothers. The griffs. The unnes. The hurrks."
"What is your name?"
The Halfling laughed again, a bitter sound. "I told you, I have no name. I am Bastard, Halfling, Slut, Monster, or whatever crap they feel like calling me."
Jaunne shut her eyes, as if remembering something. "I will call you Tekkiake. Come with me."
Tekkiake obeyed, rising to her feet.
"You must have proper clothes," Said Jaunne, "And be cleaned up. We will take you to our baths."
Tekkiake was startled. "I see no others."
Jaunne smiled. "I am now the Empress. I use the imperial 'we'. I have not yet tightened my hold on other areas, yet. I have only taken the palace and the capital city."
"Took from who?"
The look on Jaune's face changed. "An usurper. You'll join the army, we trust?"
The change of topic was so fluid that Tekkiake didn't notice it. She had no idea what an usurper was, either, but she pretended she understood. "Yes," she said.
Jaunne drew a knife. Tekkiake went immediately into the defensive, snarling.
Jaunne pointed to the scraggly mess on her head. "We're only going cut off your hair. It is so matted it has formed into a single dreadlock." And in a single motion, Jaunne grabbed the end of Tekkiake's hair and cut it so her hair went down only to her ears. Suddenly a weight disappeared, Tekkiake's head felt light as a balloon.
"We think we can untangle what's left," she said.
Tekkiake was then pulled into the baths, wincing as hot water covered her. She nearly leapt out again, but Jaunne held on tight to her arm. There Jaunne produced a comb, and wetted Tekk's matted hair, then proceeded to unsnarl it. It took nearly an hour, and when it was done, the Empress then had a haircutter trim it even. Then she pushed Tekk into the baths again and scrubbed her clean. Tekk dried herself, but was baffled by the clothes draped over a chair for her. Jaunne dressed her in undergarments and breeches, but had some trouble with a shirt. She ended up just giving her a skimpy halter-top that fitted comfortably over her wings, which clacked nervously during the whole operation. The clothes felt weird. She felt- restricted. But Jaunne wrestled her into some sandals, and said finally
"You look- and smell, much better now." Tekk looked at herself in the looking glass. She had never seen herself before except for the reflection in ponds. But what she saw here looked different. Clean. Sophisticated. She loved it.
Her short, wavy brown curls framed a soft face, and full lips. She wasn't tall, maybe five five. Jaunne saw the reflection in the mirror- and blanched. It looked like her. There were differences, like Jaunne's hair was blonde while Tekkiake's was brown, but they had the same build, the same shape of face.
"Tekk," Jaunne whispered, "Who was your mother?"
Tekkiake sat down. "I only remember because I am half immortal. Immortals remember everything, from the moment they are conceived until the day they die."
Jaunne waited. "I remember. I remember being born; I almost killed my mother. I wish I had. She was not big, not small. She had hair like mine, and she was not too old, probably not even twenty. She hated me; she hated me more than anything did. She thought she was an animal, she was mad. She starting cursing someone, Rikash, Rikash Moonsword. For seducing her. She ran a ways into the forest, and I never saw her again. Maybe she died. My father must have been a stormsing. That it why I am cursed as a bloody halfling."
Jaunne sat down next to her. "My father was Emperor Kaddar. My mother, the Empress Veralidaine, ran away when she was fifteen and pregnant. She bore me, and abandoned me to a lady at a tavern. I lived there for seventeen years. I met my father; he insulted me and said I would never rule. Then he was murdered. I escaped, and formed my army. But I will never, ever forgive my mother. Ever."
Something in Jaunne's mother's name rang a bell in Tekkiake's head. "What did your mother look like?"
"I will show you," she said and waved a hand in the air. "I have seen her since, and have tried to kill her, but she is slippery. She is a wildmage, far more powerful than I. Though she has no Gift." A pool of yellow light interlaced with copper formed in the air, and a picture of a woman appeared. Tekk turned ghostly pale.
"That… is my mother." She said it with vehemence that would have wilted flowers.
Jaunne turned to her half-sister. "Then we will fight for the same cause- to the death of Veralidaine Sarrasri." And she toasted Tekkiake with her wineglass.
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I told you this wouldn't be soppy D/N junk! Hee hee! To the death of Veralidaine Sarrasri!