Hiya!
Well, I now have a bruised head and I blame it all on you lot! ::grins:: I actually fell over when I saw the lovely reviews and my cat, bless its evil little heart, had left a ball there and I fell over and whacked my head on the sofa! The detailed thanks are below the end of the story; my jaw is pretty much stapled to the floor with shock – thank you all so, so, so much. May your days be filled with light and your nights be filled with stars. To quote Savage Garden, I am truly, madly, deeply grateful, from the top, bottom and middle of my heart.
Any feedback would be sighed over, cried over, adored, pored over, revered, cheered and slavishly, feverishly and delightedly worshipped :-) Please review; I need you to tell me what is wrong, what is right, what you'd like to see, what you think. It also makes me write faster.
Hugs n' honey,
A slightly concussed, Ki
Hanging on Part Six
"I don't care if the Goddess herself sent you, lad," the guard snapped. It was the middle of the night. What kind of half-wit came stumbling up to the palace with some whore hanging on his arm, blathering about gods and Gifts? "There's healers aplenty in the city. Go and find one of them."
"You don't understand," the kid snapped back, though the tall boy wasn't really a child. It was just that the pools of torchlight on the walls of the gateway softened him, took away some of the street-bred hardness. His face had an odd, artless vulnerability to it, despite the fact the guard had seen him nipping through crowds on countless festivals, robbing anyone fool enough to keep their purse in the open.
Now, he was stood tall and glaring fiercely, dark hair dishevelled. "They can't heal this. She's blind!"
"Well, be still my bleedin' heart," the guard drawled. "Ain't that convenient? I know that woman, lad, and the only thing she's blind to is her reputation."
"Don't you *dare* talk about Hana that way," the kid snarled, something very fierce sharp in his voice.
"It's no use, Ryan," the woman said. For the first time, the guard felt a twinge of unease. She had kept her face down, shielded by the blazing mass of red hair he had seen fluttering in a crowd so often, but her voice was drained and husky, as if she had been crying. "Folk like us ain't meant to meet the high an' mighty."
"You show 'im, Hana," the kid demanded, his dove-grey eyes fierce as he glared at the guard with undisguised loathing.
The intelligent, sharp-cut face reminded the guard a little of his own son, if Michael hadn't eaten for some weeks and was dressed in rags. Despite his thinness, the boy was tall and had a sinewy strength to his quick movements. And there was life enough in that firm mouth and obstinate jaw.
Slowly, the woman lifted her head. A beautiful face, the guard thought, dominated by her full mouth. But then he saw her eyes and started back before he knew. In place of her eyes sat two orbs of opaque white.
"Mithros bless," the guard whispered, sketching the sign of the Gods. Then he straightened up and remembered his duty. "Look, lad, I'm sorry, but you can't come in. We don't just let commoners in. For all I know, that's just some spell you've cast. You ain't comin' into the palace."
"I have to!" the boy said desperately. "I ain't lyin' an' I ain't tryin' to rob you. 'Sides, there's you guards everywhere. What harm can I do?"
"Over my dead body," the guard snapped.
The boy stared at him and as the guard watched, those dove-grey eyes seemed to swell and change, filling with a fiery, unnatural blue that was like the moon's corona, like the first crashing wave of a tidal storm on a sunny day. A colour that screamed...
Inhuman.
A determined little smile and a slight shrug from this curious streetboy.
"Fine by me."
A whispered word and fire leapt between the boy's hands like a fey flower, and then that mild, rough– and that, the guard thought, was the worst of it, the fact that the boy was so *ordinary* - voice was murmuring, "I ain't wantin' to hurt you. So I think you'd best run.'
"You can't use magic here!" the guard shouted, gesturing wildly to his companions to lower the portcullis.
The boy looked at him, and suddenly his face didn't seem at all open or vulnerable, but merely sharp and intelligent and utterly stubborn. And under that voice, ocean tremors rolled.
"I hate to tell you this, but I can an' I am."
And then the guard was running for his life, shouting for them to close the gates and rolling under the portcullis as it dropped with a harsh thud as his companions on the gate looked at him in bafflement. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
"What—?" One of them began...
And the gate exploded in a surge of that cobalt fire.
The guard felt shards of blazing hot metal streak past him, one scorching his skin in a blaze of searing pain before he threw himself flat and prayed to any gods listening to protect him. The light rolled over his eyes in wave after wave of that beautiful, ethereal blue, the crash of the explosion resounding in his ears.
He blinked, to try and clear the blackness that seemed to have imprinted itself on his eyelids. And blinked again. Again. Again...againandagainandagain, trying to deny what he knew was true.
He was blind.
He staggered up, hands waving in front of him desperately and he heard someone sigh and recognised the young, weary voice at once, before the boy deftly moved him out of the open and sat him down.
"Goddess, not *again*."
* * * *
Numair Salmalin crept quietly into his room and shut the door carefully. He smiled as he saw the girl asleep in the bed, her brown curls an unruly tumble on the pillow. Even in sleep, Daine Sarrasri;s face was stubborn. There was a smear of dirt across one cheekbone that he was itching to wipe away, but he didn't want to wake her.
Silently, he began to pack clothes and necessities, putting off the inevitable moment as long he could. But eventually his shoulders slumped. He had to say goodbye, even if it was only for a few days.
He shook her gently. Her eyelids lifted slowly, to reveal hazy blue-grey eyes filled with bemusement. "Numair?" Daine propped herself up on one elbow and yawned. "What's going on? It's not even dawn."
"I'm leaving, sweet," he answered gently, seeing the disappointment blossom in her face at once. "Jon's sent me out on an excursion to find some Gifted children who've been causing mayhem."
She frowned, her mouth turning down. He hated to see her unhappy, and was so often afraid to be the cause. What if, one day, he made her so miserable, she simply turned away from him? "That's sudden."
"I know." He pulled at one of the curls hanging across her eyes gently. "The gods enjoy making us work for our lives. If they made it easy, we'd all be bored."
"Don't talk to me about gods," Daine said grumpily. "I seem to spend my life being ordered around by them."
Numair smiled, adoring the way she still had a hint of the Snowsdale accent to her voice. "That's what happens when they're your parents, sweet."
"You really have to go?" She took one look at his resigned face. "You really have to go," the young woman confirmed with a sigh. "Well, I'll still have the horses to keep me company, surely." Her face brightened. "Onua's bought a new string from them Gallans. And the dogs...and the Queen told me they've some falcons that need training..."
The mage looked at her glowing face and grinned. "You won't miss me at all ,will you?" he said playfully.
Daine gave him a wry smile. "The animals are wonderful," she said, "though some of those beasties need to be told who's herd leader here, but they aren't you!"
"I know," Numair told her. "They're far more intelligent."
She laughed and kissed him. "That's why the King's sending you away and not them." Her blue-grey eyes were stern. "Well, you be sure to come back in one piece. One *living* piece."
"Of course—"
An echoing crash thundered through the air and both of them jumped. Outside, something like lightning flashed once.
"Mithros bright, did the Lioness lose her temper again?" Daine demanded.
"I doubt it," Numair said, leaning out of the window. His black eyes were keen as he scanned the courtyard. Below, he could see a man stagger to his feet. And a boy, striding in with a woman clinging to him. By the Goddess, what on earth...? "That was magic, sweet, and powerful magic at that."
She began to get up, pulling on clothes and briefly running a comb through her tousled hair. "You'd best go," she advised, absently petting one of the dozens of palace cats that seemed to wander in from nowhere every day. She looked up and in a breathtakingly matter-of-fact voice, told him, "I love you."
He paused on his way out as she threw him the bag of clothes he had left on the floor and cast a brief spell. "I love you," he answered softly, delighted as always by the warmth in her eyes. Smiling, he blew her a kiss flushed with the black sparkle of his Gift. She gasped and then smiled brilliantly as she heard it whispering the lines of a poem he had never voiced to her.
~ You have my heart...you have my soul. I treasure yours; you make me whole. ~
* * * *
Andrea yawned and stretched, hearing bones crackle, to find herself not asleep on the hardness of ground, but in a dark place. Around her she heard the constant drip of water, echoing softly like a thousand footsteps. Cold air lay over her skin like a mist, making her shiver convulsively as she sat up and felt only hard rock under her.
I must be in a cave, she decided, fear building slowly in her stomach in an icy knot. What else can it be?
There was soreness tingling in her feet. She reached down and couldn't suppress a gasp of pain. They felt as though they had been ripped to shreds. Of course, she had been running, hadn't she? Far and fast, away from that haunting, terrifying man on the gallows, away from that soulless town. She had no one, she had nothing, except the ghost of startling boy who had vanished like a cobweb in daylight.
"Gods help me," she whispered, not knowing what else to do. "Gods give me strength to go on."
And perhaps she only imagined, perhaps the hum of that baritone voice in her ears was only wishful thinking, or maybe a man did say, "We are always here."
But even if it was her imagination, it comforted her, filled her with hope. For after all, she was alive, as far as she knew, and she had only a little pain, and she was far from the long drop. Perhaps it isn't so bad, she was thinking, deciding to try and explore this darkness, to see where that gurgle of water came from; for after all, if water could get in, why could she not get out?
"Awake..."
The voice came like nails dragged across squeaking floor and made her flinch. At once, her calm dissipated, and she moved frantically, scrabbling backwards to find a jagged wall in her back.
"Want..." Another whisper, to her right this time.
No...please, Mithros, send them away, she pleaded silently. But what if Mithros wasn't here? What if they didn't hear, if she was where the gods couldn't reach? A dreadful thought struck her, froze her utterly still.
What if she was dead?
No! I can't believe that, I will go mad if I think that. Andrea could hear her own high, rushed breathing in the darkness. All around her, voices were whispering, overlaying one another like layers of torn silk so she could only catch fragments of what they said.
"Pretty...touch it...want it...mine...mortal...taste so sweet...hungry..."
And that last word was taken up by all the strange, broken voices, whispering in the darkness of a world she couldn't comprehend.
"Hungry...hungry...hungry hungry hungryhungryhungry..."
No...all around, voices that cut her like jagged glass, driving her further and further into panic and fear and into the certainty that she would die and they would—
"We are here." That smooth, male voice again, intruding into her thoughts and she was sure it was real. She caught her breath, felt her heart slow a little. "Listen to me, daughter."
Who are you? she asked in the silence of her mind.
"I am your god and you are my Chosen," the warm voice answered. It was powerful, but compassionate too. "Do not fear these creatures. You are more powerful than them. Think, Andrea, think why you ran..."
"I don't understand," she whispered into the darkness and heard the rush of eerie, ugly voices stop.
The voice touched with irritation. "You will understand. You are a warrior of Mithros; you can fight if you choose. Fight, mortal...fight or die." And as suddenly as it had come, that magnificent voice was gone.
Mithros? Andrea thought, stunned. The Sun-God has chosen me as his own? But I have nothing. I am nothing but a freak, a cursed thing, a—
My Gift. I have magic.
She concentrated and the golden fire leapt into her hands, as the sun had risen from her soul. She hurled it into the air, a glowing globe and as she saw it what it illuminated, her heart leapt.
A cave, a cave of sleet-grey stone, with a roof that arched high and stalactites hanging from the ceiling like bladed teeth. Water trickled from them to pools on the floor, murky and rippling. And there, there it was, a tunnel some two hundred metres away that had light, true light, weak daylight lighting it faintly.
And then she saw what lay beneath it.
She screamed.
* * * *
Kel was already halfway to the stables when she heard the explosion from the courtyard. She turned and ran towards it as behind her, she heard shouts and doors flung open.
She skidded outside to find a strange boy standing in the midst of a scene of devastation. Kel gaped. The gate into the castle was gone, scraps of metal lay everywhere, silver in the moonlight, and the boy...he was *glowing*. A faint blue aura hung around him and threw his face into sharp contrast.
"By all the gods," the King began as he strode outside, still clad in a dressing gown of dark-blue silk, then he stopped short and stared at the boy, his mouth falling open. "You!" A few flicks of magick from his fingers threw light into the courtyard, casting a soft sapphire glow over everything.
"I ain't nicked anythin'," the boy said quickly. There was a red-headed woman clinging to his arm. She was blind, Kel realised just as quickly, and her lovely face was streaked with tear-tracks. "I just want a healer for my friend."
"You...want a healer?" the King echoed, as if he couldn't quite believe it. Above, shutters were flung open, as people leaned out to hear the commotion. As he saw the white, milky orbs of his guards' eyes – identical to the woman's, the King sent for healers with a brief word to the nearest servant.
Behind her, Kel heard a soft, "Oh dear," and turned to see Master Salmalin, who gave her a brief wry smile which faded as he looked over her shoulder. He had a stunned expression identical to the King's. Kel turned and stared at the boy. What was so special about him? Nothing she could see. "Mithros, Mynass and Shakith!" the mage breathed. "It's him!"
"Aye." The boy stuck his chin out, looking steadily at King Jonathan and Kel could see a long scar gleaming from his ear to his jaw. She wondered what could have caused it. "That's all."
"And you felt it necessary to destroy my castle to get one?" the King said in disbelief. "Young man, we need to talk about priorities."
The boy looked alarmed. "I tol' you, I didn't nick anythin'!" he said. "I don't know who's got your priorities, but it ain't me. All I want is a healer." He pulled the woman forward. "Hana's been blinded an' there ain't no one in the city can heal it."
"If you keep blinding people," the King said mildly, "there certainly won't be anyone who can."
"I don't do it a-purpose," the boy muttered.
"How on earth did we miss a Gift like yours?" Numair Salmalin demanded, stepping forward.
The boy's eyes were a soft, dark grey as he stared at the man, Heartmelting eyes, Kel thought, even if they aren't green and soft and...no, I have to stop thinking about that.
"You're that mage, ain't you? The one what fought that Scanran in t'Immortals War. No one Salmon."
"Numair Salmalin," the mage said with a half-bow, his mouth quirking suspiciously. "Yes, I am. And you, young vandal, saved a young woman earlier."
Shock flashing on the boy's face. "How'd you...well, you's a mage, ain't you?" he said in that rough, yet oddly calm voice. "You know everythin'."
"Not quite," Master Salmalin murmured. His dark eyes rested on the boy in a mixture of confusion and amusement. "I certainly do not know how we missed a Gift like this."
"I do." The woman spoke for the first time, in a husky, drained voice. She sounded bone-weary, ruined. "I warded t'house. Ryan always sleeps there – ain't nowhere else safe. Ye wouldn't a' felt a thing."
"But whoever who warded it, surely...?" Numair said.
The woman shook her head. "I paid her not to notice. An' Ryan didn't know he was Gifted until yesterday. He ain't ever tried to use his Gift afore, an' I think I'm glad. It sounds like he's done ye some damage, sir."
"It's minimal," the King said with a sigh. "It can be fixed. Unlike your condition. I'm afraid we have never yet had a healer powerful to undo magical hurts this serious."
"Then we'd best go," the boy snapped angrily. "I've a temple to burn down."
The King and Numair exchanged looks. Suddenly Kel twigged. This must be the boy in the dream! That was why they were wondering why they had missed him...and how they knew he had saved a girl.
"And the girl?" Numair said gently. "Ryan, is it? What about her?"
There was sudden anguish on the boy's face. Not so old, Kel thought, perhaps afraid, despite his anger.
"I'd help her if I could." His voice low, passionate, startling in its intensity. "But I don't know where she is, who she is, I know nothin' an' maybe that Goddess had made me one of her Chosen, but she ain't given me nothin' but mysteries. It's she who blinded Hana, an' I ain't goin' to let her hurt my family!"
Him? The Goddess's Chosen? Like the Lioness was rumoured to be?
"Have you not thought, boy," the King said gently, his mouth relaxing into a smile, "that she sent you here for a reason?"
"We were going to ride out to find you and the girl," Numair added mildly. "We know where the girl is; you, however, were protected and now I understand why."
"You know where she is?" Ryan said in amazement. "Can I go with ye?"
The king nodded and walked forward, slowly, as if he thought the boy was a deer that might run at any moment. And with those wary, dark eyes, he was, Kel decided. "Hana may stay with us. And Master Salmalin can teach you to control your Gift. Perhaps we can learn where it came from. No mortal so powerful has ever been known. If you could do that without training, boy..."
There was a flurry as Bruna ran into the courtyard. "What is going on?" she demanded haughtily. "I heard something, but I was just arranging my hair..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the boy and her eyes widened. "You?"
"We have a new companion," Numair Salmalin said mildly. Hem like Bruna and Kel, was dressed for travelling. But looking at Bruna's expensive robes and heavy bags (that, Kel noticed, her servant was carrying), it would be a long journey.
"Why does ye all keep sayin' that?" the boy said. "Who else am I t'be?"
"I think the answer to that, lad," the King answered mildly, "is whatever you choose."
* * * *
Comments would be feverishly worshipped! :-) Please, tell me what you think – I'd love to hear!
So thank you, thank you, thank you (what's said three times is true) to: Aeris Cimorene ei Caeran (Short n' sweet! BTW, do you read Patricia Wrede?) Alec (I wouldn't dream of stopping, not with such amazing encouragement!) Aquilla (Hey! Don't apologise for not commenting on the other part – I'm just lucky you reviewed this one!), Ariana (Thank you for such a thorough review J I try to stay true to the characters – it bugs me when other people don't, so if I don't, you yell at me, y'hear?), Caligurlie (Thank you! ::grins:: I would love to tell you what happens next, but then…well...you'd know!), Camilla (::waves:: Hi! I had no idea so many Nightworld people were on here and were TP fans! Thanks!), Daine (::Kiana nearly falls over again:: Wow! What a detailed review! Thank you so much!), Dara (I hear and obey; the halflings are something I thought up after drinking Five Alive. I swear, they put something in that drink.), Depressed Muse (Mwahaha...I get the impression from the books that Kel isn't a big fan of Jon's. And I think Numair's a sweetheart...), Euclara, (You shouldn't be thanking me! I'm should – and am – thanking you for letting me know you enjoyed it, and for such detailed feedback and for reading at all! Hopefully lal confusion will be made clear soon.) Firelily (I'm so happy you liked it! Kel/Neal intrigue me. I had to think very hard about how they would ever get romantically involved if they did.), Jodie (Sorry this is so late – the review-email didn't send to me, curse its lazy soul.), Mage Melery (I don't even have a scanner! But doesn't it scare you, knowing people are watching you? And I can just see Neal in a pink dressing gown…don't ask me why…blame the concussion.), Quartz (Hi! Thank you for the comments :-) Due to my lack of time, I haven't read any Neal/Kel kissing scenes at all, so hey, glad it worked!), Sparrow (::beams:: Thank you for such lovely, positive comments. Sadly, the only thing it's been raining on me is rain. Big shock there!), *star (Ah, well, you will find out what happens very soon! Thanks!), Team Socket (I haven't read anything of what you've written – due to lack of time, I pray the holidays come soon – but I'm sure it's brilliant! And thanks!), Wazzup Girl (I am totally in favour of Kel having long hair. I mean, all kinds of styles, and it would probably flatter her face more...) and last, but never least, the enigmatic :-) (I think most of TP's characters will flit into this at one point or another. Well, certainly the way I'm plotting it…)