My huge, huge,
huge apologies for this being so *disgustingly* late. I went back to school
this week (I'm sure some of you could hear my screams.) and then my hard drive
got erased in one fell swoop. But, all your wonderful, inspiring and thoughtful
feedback made it (dare I say it?) bearable. Thank you: you are all angels and
it's my deepest wish that your life is wreathed with rainbows :-)
Comments are purely worshipped and cherished!
I love hearing what you think; do me a huge favour and share it.
Thanks!
Ki
Hanging On Part
Eleven
The knife gleamed in the light, sending blue
beams reflecting on to the wall. Neal swallowed hard and considered his next
move very carefully. Vinson had to be *out* of his mind, assuming he had one,
attacking a noblewoman.
"Leave her alone," Neal said, keeping his
voice slow and calm. Phillippa's face was serene, trusting, her hands still. He
was impressed; she didn't panic or squirm under the blade.
Vinson's eyes were wide and wild, like a
frightened horse's. He didn't think he'd get caught, Neal realised. And he
doesn't see any way out of it now.
"Go away, Queenscove, or I'll hurt her,"
Vinson spat, his mouth trembling.
"You won't," assured Neal. "If you do,
there's no going back. You'll be handed over to the Goddess' warriors for
punishment. As it is, you're running that risk. Just let her go."
"She wanted to," he said hoarsely. "Little
tease, always pretending to ignore me."
"Pretending?" Phillippa said in outrage. She
swallowed as the knife scraped along her neck. As he saw a thin line of blood
blossom on her tanned skin, Neal winced inwardly. Only a shallow cut, but it
showed just how close to the edge Vinson was.
"Whether she wanted to or not is hardly the
issue," he argued, ignoring the enraged look in Phillippa's eyes that said he
would be in some severe pain later for that. "The fact is, right now, you're
holding a knife to her throat. Anyone comes along here and you'll be missing a
few vital parts faster than you can blink. Do you know what the Goddess'
warriors *do* to rapists?"
He could see the sickly hue to Vinson's face.
Neal was getting to him. *Good*, he thought savagely. "I..."
"Let her go and we'll both keep quiet about
this," Neal said mildly. "Hurt her, and I promise you, all the armies in this
world will not stop me searching the length and breadth of this land until I
track you down."
Vinson sneered. "You in love with her or
something?"
Neal's disgusted look said everything. "Don't
you have any comprehension of what being a knight *is*? Now *let her go*."
Tension hung in the air for a minute, the
knife glinting at Phillippa's throat while Vinson's crazy eyes darted from side
to side. Then he pushed her at Neal so roughly she fell into a heap on the
polished floor, and ran throwing the knife aside. It clattered against a wall.
Neal knelt down beside her. "Are you okay,
Phillippa?"
"It's Pip," she said, picking herself up
without any help from him and dusting off her clothes. "After that, it's
definitely Pip."
He ran a finger over her throat, healing the
scratch. She wiped the blood away with her headscarf, not seeming to care that
the stained silk was irreparable. Glancing at her hands, Neal saw they were
rock-steady and was astonished.
She looked at him and grinned. She didn't
seem at all shaken by what had happened. "You do a nice line in threats, Neal.
I was just about to use Queen Thayet's self-defence lessons."
"Queen Thayet gives self-defence?" Neal in
amazement. He was starting to realise he had really no idea what the ladies of
the court got up to.
"Certainly." She had changed, he realised,
into loose trousers and a short tunic that fell to her waist. Her hair was
tamed into a neat, tight knot. "How to escape from men attacking you. Among
other things."
"I'm probably going to regret asking this,
but how?"
She grinned, eyes twinkling. "Stamp on their
foot, then twist and knee them. While they're doubled over, double handed punch
on the back of their neck, then kick them while they're down." She said it with
such relish, Neal promptly vowed he would *never* sneak up on Phil—Pip.
"Right," she declared as they strode back to
the library, where Neal's friends were. "So now you're going to teach me some
Shang moves."
* * * *
A week later:
Reality dawned a slow, simmering red. It
clouded her thoughts as she moved and felt tiny white lightning bolts of pain
shoot from her shoulders and legs. Hadn't there been something...
Andrea froze. The monster, there had been a
monster and it had...hurt her. It had ripped its claws through her shoulders
and screamed at her, *screamed* like something mad and possessed. And all there
had been was that banshee voice ripping at her hearing, the red-tinged bolts of
pain and then the soft, welcome embrace of darkness...
Someone was
touching her.
She was almost
paralysed with fear as she realised; a hand was stroking across her forehead
with smooth, practised movements. She kept her eyes shut...she didn't know who
it was or...or what they wanted of her. Andrea remembered how the men in the
village had looked at her, with something hot and hungry in their eyes.
"Marc?" A high, hushed voice above her. A
child? she thought, confused.
A low dragging sound. "I don't know." The
voice was youthful, weary. "Ssssh! Shari, keep still. Or that damn lizard will
be back again."
A little gasp and utterly mystified, Andrea
opened her eyes. There was a face peering down at her, a round, cherubic face
with huge dark eyes the coloured of polished oakwood in sunlight. The little
girl gave a shriek and jumped back. "Marc!"
"I'm sorry," said Andrea hurriedly. She sat
up and almost screamed as pain exploded in her shoulders.
"Oh, oh," the girl said. She couldn't have
been more than six or seven, with the incredibly fair hair that dims into honey
blond as childhood ends, the light vanishing from it. "Marc," she wailed.
"She's bleeding!"
She lay back and as the pain subsided to a
dull throbbing, Andrea was able to focus on her surroundings. A small, dim,
damp room that was shrouded in darkness except for a pale rectangle of light
that a skylight let in from at least fifteen feet above. There were bars across
it.
"All right, Shari. Hush, hush." That odd,
dragging sound again and a new face appeared in her vision. "Can you hear me?"
"I can." He was pale, icy pale as if he had
been drowning in chill waters for time beyond counting. His eyes were pure
black, like two deep wells, but soft and shadowy. He had the most aristocratic
face she had seen on any one, carved like a statue might be, but without any of
its remoteness. "Who are you?"
"Marcus of Kennan. Do you know where you
are?"
"There was...a beast." She recalled its pink
scaly body and three eyes. "Like a dragon but wrong somehow. Terribly wrong."
"Ah. The Arachon. Part spider, part dragon,
all mad." His touch of humour made her feel a little better. The boy frowned,
shook overlong red hair from his eyes and touched her shoulders with careful,
healer's hands. "It took rather too many chunks out of you."
Something caught up with her. Andrea's golden
eyes widened, pushing away his hands. "You're a *noble*?"
His voice was pleasant. Oddly throaty and
disturbingly sensual. No trace of a noble's lofty accent. But no roughness of a
commoner's either.
"Once upon a moonbeam. It's not important. No,
don't try to sit up." He grimaced slightly, and that odd dragging sound came
again. "You'll only hurt yourself."
"What is that sound?" she said, trying to sit
up and finding that despite his elegant looks, he was surprisingly strong.
"Me." He smiled faintly. "The Arachon
crippled me a few years back. Hush, girl, don't ask anymore questions. I'm
going to heal you and I need to concentrate."
Pleasant heat flooded over her shoulder, like
the warmth of a flame tickling at her. She relaxed completely, letting him heal
without difficulty and as the pain faded bit by bit, she realised he was a
healer of great skill. Slow, steady, and powerful.
"There. You can sit up now." She did, sliding
her so she sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, looking at the boy, who
had propped himself against a wall, legs stretching out in front of him. She
saw he spoke the truth; his limbs were shrivelled and useless, the muscles
hopelessly wasted. His eyelids fell with exhaustion, eyelashes making black
crescents on his ashen face.
"May I...?" she asked and hesitated.
He dragged his eyes open with an effort. She
could see he was bone weary. "May you what?"
She reached out and took his hands. They were
cool, latticed with thin curving scars like whipmarks and one finger was
missing. Then she sent a stream of golden energy through is body, saw him
shiver convulsively and then let go, startled.
"Mithros, I see why she wants you now!" His
lips were half-parted, breathing fast and almost panicked. "Warn me next time.
But...thank you."
"No, thank *you*," she said hesitantly. "Was
I...out long?"
"The red mage brought you in six days ago."
Marcus beckoned gently and the fair-haired child scurried over to settle
herself in his lap with a sweet smile. "Arachon's claws are poisoned. You were
lucky. They tell me I was out for months after she severed my ligaments." His
voice held no emotion, but she saw a muscle flicker near his jaw.
"I'm sorry." She saw now why his arms were so
powerful; he had to haul himself everywhere. Not that the cell was large. "Why
are you here?"
Marcus smiled. "You want my life story and I
don't even have the pleasure of your name?"
She looked at him, and was like a phoenix
burning in the gloom of the prison where Marc had been so long. For thirteen
years of his life, he had been trapped here. Trapped because he had a Gift
powerful enough to tempt the Arachon; she liked rare things, and magical rare
things especially. They were her servants, her play-things...her weapons.
This girl was startling; her skin was smooth
and clean, marred only by the dirt of the cell. Her hair gleamed bright gold,
her eyes like molten fire. She was the most beautiful creature he had seen,
smouldering in the dark like fire, and he was surprised at her power. She
looked fragile as spun glass, and yet had power to call down a storm.
"Andrea," she said softly. "Andrea Kirisra."
"Andrea." He smiled and ruffled the
white-gold hair of the child on his lap who sucked her thumb. "Andrea, this is
Shari. We think she's from Scanra."
"Hello," said Andrea, reaching out. Shari
wriggled and then ran over to the girl to coil in her arms. Marc watched,
startled. Shari clung to him usually, and he had grown used to the warm weight
of her at night, when she refused to sleep alone in the dark, and in the day,
when a memory of 'interviews' with the Arachon plagued her.
"'Lo," she whispered and gave Andrea the
seraphic, dazzling smile she rarely showed anymore.
"Your life story?" the girl said, her fearful
gold eyes striking chords on his soul.
Marc swallowed. "It's long and I should warn
you, very dull."
"We have time," she said.
* * * *
"A week!" Bruna groaned, swinging her now
messy and rat-tailed brown hair over of her face. The rain sleeted down on the
four travellers, dripping down their faces in cold rivulets. Shoulders slumped,
they rode on, the horses hooves splatting on the muddy road. "One gods-cursed
week chasing after some commoner rat who's probably dead by now—"
"She ain't," Ryan snapped, pushing dripping
tendrils of hair from his eyes which were a soft, smoky grey that matched the
sky above. "I'd know, so why don't ye quit your bitchin' and shut up? I've met
dogs that whined less."
"That doesn't surprise me," the noblewoman
said tartly, her tones filled haughty superiority. "They seem about your
level."
"Tell me," interjected Kel. She detested
Bruna even more than when they had started this trip, if possible. "How are the
pond scum this week?"
"Children, *enough*!" Numair Salmalin's voice
cut the air like a well-honed blade. "The three of you have done nothing but
argue for the past five days. Show a little mercy! There's enough
unpleasantness about this ride without the three of you sniping. I know it's
wet and you're tired and aching, but complaining won't change any of this.
We'll stop soon and set up camp for the night."
"We're close now," said Ryan, his thin face
alight. "I can feel it."
The mage glanced at him, coal-black eyes
unreadable. "How close?"
"A mile or two." The boy shrugged, shivering
slightly as they struggled on through the rain and fog that clouded their way.
"She's been here. It's like...footprints. Magical ones, like."
"Interesting," the mage said. "I've never
come across such a phenomenon. You two appear to be linked very closely. And
you say the alicorn told you to look to your blood for the answer?"
"Aye."
The blood was washing off Kel's face now;
they had heeded the alicorn's warning and strayed clear of the villages now.
Even wayfarer's they passed on the road gave them suspicious, icy glances and
muttered among themselves. This morning, they had stumbled over a tiny
collection of houses hidden in the mist and had had stones flung at them for
their trouble. All of them sported cuts and bruises, and they had galloped away
hastily.
"Y'okay there,
Kel?" the streetboy said, giving her a weary grin. In the week that had passed,
Kel had discovered that Ryan had a quicksilver wit and a devilishly fast punch.
He had been teaching her to streetfight, and hand to hand combat had become
more hand to elbows, teeth, knees and nails. In return, she had taught him
basic survival skills and a little of what he called 'noble's fightin'.
"Soaked to the skin. Can't you cast a spell
to keep the rain off?"
A flicker of those sharp eyes. "I ain't been
taught that."
"Then that shall be tonight's lesson," Nuamir
Salmalin said with a sigh. "At least the woodlands are bereft of immortal
creatures now."
"I don't think it is," Bruna objected. Kel and
Ryan exchanged a look of mutual apathy. "I've seen the trees move."
"We call that 'wind'," Ryan explained slowly,
as if he was talking to an idiot child.
Her full mouth curled, but with her clothes
covered in mud and her hair a mess, somehow, it just didn't have the same
effect. "You don't get wind and fog, streetrat. Whatever's moving the trees,
it's alive. And it's been following us."
"Those aren't immortals," the mage murmured.
But there was an uneasy, chilling note to his voice.
"Ye've known about them?" Ryan looked about
restlessly, keen gaze stabbing at the dark layer of foliage that crowned the
sides of the road. "Why ain't we doin' anythin'?"
"Because this is the beginning their land," he
answered, drawing his cloak closer around him, "and we may need to bargain to
cross its frontiers. They will make themselves known soon."
"Soon?" Kel reached under her cloak to check
her long knife was still there. The bulk and weight of the metal was
reassuring. "How soon?"
"I wouldn't worry, Squire Keladry." The flat
silence around them seemed more eerie, waiting somehow. "They are nothing to
harm us. Not anymore."
They rode on, Kel's hearting beating so hard
and loud she thought the others must surely hear it, every sense whetted by her
fear. Her hazel eyes darted around, her hands tight on the reins. If only she
hadn't insulted Bruna what seemed like an eternity ago. She wouldn't be on this
unnerving, strange hunt chasing the phantom of a golden-haired girl.
Peachblossom reared with a shrill neigh and
she clung on desperately, praying he would remember she was here and she was
going to hit the ground very hard if he didn't *stop*.
"Easy," she whispered, as he fell to the
ground, stroking his long, trembling neck. "Easy, boy. There's nothing—"
But there was. Oh sweet Goddess, there was.
They came from the mist like hunched shadows,
some moving in scuttling, light steps, others slowly and heavily. The first
thing Kel saw was their eyes; horrible, glittering orbs of a thousand thousand
colours like a rainbow struck with a hammer until it shattered into
scintillating fragments.
And then she saw their bodies and wanted to
stop and retch. The horror rose up in her like a shrieking wave, terrible,
wretched and horrified.
They were like an immortal gone wrong; bodies
melded together of pieces of animals, claws, tails, teeth catching her eye.
Deformed and repellent, she had to swallow several times before she could trust
herself to breathe again.
One of them stepped forward, huge overgrown
teeth stretching to its chin like chunks of ivory. "Yyyyou..." it hissed. Its
voice was hard to make out, almost strangled. "arrrrre wellllcome herrre."
"Thank you," the mage said solemnly. He
half-bowed from the saddle. "We are searching for a girl; a mage, young. She
passed this way sometime ago."
The thing turned back to its fellows and
chattered in a strange grotesque language that was a combination of slavering
growls and high-pitched clicks. Kel saw a pair of tiny, useless wings curled on
its back. They looked half-rotted.
"She had gold hair," Ryan put in. Kel could
see he was trying not to stare. "An' gold eyes. Gold Gift."
The leader froze and turned back. "We sawwww herrrr.
Took herrrrr. She rrrran. Ourrrr rrrregrrrret. Did not know she was yourrrrs."
The mage nodded. "May we cross your lands?"
"You may..." It paused, as if searching for
words in a language it had long forgotten. "Willlll not hunt you. Ware the Arrrrrachon.
Is nearrrrr."
The figures hobbled away, melting into the
mist with disturbing swiftness. All of them were silent. Kel felt her pulse,
beating at her temples and felt a wave of cool relief wash through her body. It
was only then she realised how much they had scared her.
"Master Salmalin?" she said in a faint, thin
voice that didn't sound at all like her. "What were they?"
The man sighed. "Let us set up camp first,
Squire Keladry. This is not a matter to be discussed in the open."
"Secret, is it?" Ryan said lightly, though he
was still pale.
"This is the darkest secret of the Gifted and
the realm," came the grave answer, and when she looked at the man's face,
startled, she saw only a kind of grimness there. "They should never have
been...but we lost control. We lost them all."
* * * *
I hope you liked: if you did, hit that l'il
review button, please, and if you didn't, hit that l'il review button, please
:-) Either way, I'd like to know! Comments would be loved!
My undying gratitude
and super-happy vibes to the following amazing people :-) I love reading what
you have to say, and hearing what you'd like to see more/less of:
Alec: :-) I didn't
know there *was* a netball cup (I do play netball and love it...but it gets s*d
all TV coverage here.) And as for Kel...watch this space!
Camilla: Well, the
snow here is gone now :-) We are left in the grip of icy cold. And potential
petrol strikes *again*...FOF will be out soon – thanks for reviewing it!
Daine Sarrasri:
Sure, feel free to use the alicorn :-) The name's not my creation, though the
appearance of the creature is! I think some of the noble men need a good
butt-kicking. Thanks! My muses tend not just to bite, but to put seasoning on
and bake me first :-)
Dara: I like
making new Immortals :-) It's fun. There will definitely be more! I need a name
for the beastie that's got Andrea, actually...
Euclara: You don't
have the books! Oh no! You're missing out! Do what I did :-) Beg your parents to
buy them from Amazon...Neal through fanfiction *probably* isn't always true -
TP's the only one who can really write him, 'cause she created him. Some guys
aren't like that :-) I have yet to meet one, but you live in hope.
Firelily: Thank
you, thank you, thank you! No, we don't have the vilalge barrel or the
thumbtack, but i have a feeling I guess what the sayings are :-) Glad you're
liking - thank you so much!
Francesca: Thanks
for reviewing :-) There should be more soon...though as I'm back at school
(argh!) now, the parts may be a while in getting here.
Harkly: Pip's fun
to write :-) She's a girl who knows what she wants. Daine will eb in it later -
pretty much all TP's characters are at some point. Nah, that ain't whining
(take from me, I'm a master at the art of it. g)
Jinx: Pip comes
into the story quite a bit (I like creating new characters...it's fun.) I will
try to keep it up! Thank you so much :-) Babbling? Not even close (talk to my
mad friends...they never shut up.)
Kali Gurlie: What
*exactly*...well, at the moment, the foundations of a good friendship.
Phillippa? It's just a name I've always liked...and it has the short form Pip,
which I think is cute. :-) I'm working as quick as I can!
Leevee of TS:
Short n' sweet! Thanks very much - I'm over the moon that you like it!
Mage Melery: Wow,
what a review! Ike! Yeah, the break me/shake me is Savage Garden - that's my
fave song on the first album. (But Affirmation is *so* good.) Andrea didn't fit
this time :-) I have to stop *somewhere* or everyone will tell me it's too
long! Ryan told Bruna exactly that. I pity your brother :-)
ME: Neal is a bit
of a crush butterfly, I get the feeling. The alicorn is a mythical creature...though I did make up parts of what
it looked like. Artistic license, right? :-)
Melissa: Wow! Talk
about catch-up with a vengeance :-) Thanks so much for all the comments; I'm
sure I'm not a pro author (hah, yeah, I wish!), I'm overjoyed you're liking the
stories, and thank you for all the wonderful comments!
Noel: Yeah, I
wanted Pip to be normal :-) She has no urges to conquer the world or fight
Shang warriors, but she does want to be *useful*. Neal's a guy :-) He does the
guy stuff. And also...he's confused. Thank you for all those lovely,
blush-making adjectives! No! Anything but It's A Small World!
Phoenix Girl:
Well, there's not a lot I can do about cliffhangers...but I will try to get the
next part out soon - it may take a little longer now I'm back at school (I get,
and I kid you not, 20 hours of homework a week.) but I will do my damnedest.
Thanks!
Quartz: Hello, O
Mad One! ;-) Pip isn't evil...she's just...there...he's not cheating yet. As I
say, Andrea didn't fit - I'm trying to keep the story to around 6 pages, as
after that, I get the usual 'it's too long!' complaints. But if y'all don't
mind longer parts, hey, I'm happy to write more. :-)
Sparrow: Thanks
:-) It's mad playing catch-up with fics, isn't it? How long? I don't
know...whenever it stops. The longest story I've ever written was 20 parts. I
would guess about that. Quite a lot still ahs to happen :-) though I can't say
what!
The Silver Mist
Tigress: (Wow, what a fabulous name...I hear that and I instantly have a
story.) I like making new creatures - TP's Swords and Sorcery/fantasy world just
fasciantes me. Plus, I took latin :-) You get a lot of mythology.
Wazzup Girl: Ryan
and Kel, huh? Hmmm...I'll have to give that one some thought. There *will* be
romance for Kel at some point fairly soon...I can say that much.