I've been laid up with food poisoning, which admittedly is my own fault
– if you will eat mussels, snails and whelks, you can expect this sort of
thing. I can't believe how bloody long this took. Between the food poisoning,
being away, and breaking the damn computer, I've had a lot less time than I
thought :-( So for all of you who have the patience to keep reading this –
THANKS!
Comments, thoughts, criticisms
would be adored :-) If you want to get ahold of me offline, I'm at kiananw@hotmail.com and on AOL IM as
KianaCae and on the web at http://www.firesandflowers.cjb.net
Hugs n' honey,
Ki
Hanging On Part Seventeen
Sunlight, blasting through
Andrea's shut eyelids in painful golden beams. She clung onto Ryan as the
closest thing she had to a friend right now, heard him curse in a soft voice.
"Children. Welcome."
The voice had a ring to it like
a hammer striking an anvil, like the clash of a thousand swords in battle.
Under it, Andrea thought she could hear the screams of the dying. Slowly, the
blinding light dimmed.
"Oh, hell in a handbasket,"
Ryan muttered darkly. "It's the gods again."
"That attitude will not win you
favour," the voice barked and Andrea recognised it. Mithros.
Beside her, she felt Ryan
snort. "You know what I've noticed?" he whispered in her ear.
"What?" Andrea found the
courage to whisper back.
"I am your god," Mithros
declared. She squinted at him from her watering eyes. He stilled glowed like
the sun, his dark eyes piercing. His armour shone dazzlingly, sending sparks of
light jumping around this...hall they appeared to be in. "I can smite you into
a thousand pieces."
"They *moan*," the streetboy
said fervently. "Never shut up about the fact they're gods. You'd think they
were..." He paused, obviously at a loss for words.
"Gods?" Andrea offered, the
starts of a smile curving her mouth.
A lightning bolt cracked by
their feet. Startled, Andrea leapt back, seeing her shock reflected in Ryan's
grey eyes. And then something that surprised her. Not fear...but anger. He
wasn't at all scared of the god.
"You will listen to me when I
talk!" the sun-god bellowed furiously. Andrea clamped her hands over her ears,
and she swore that the earth trembled under her feet. Or...the marble floor,
anyway. The hall was an iridescent marble delight, carven from glossy white and
grey stone. Slender pillars stretched up to an arching ceiling covered in
paintings of famous myths, while tapestries fluttered on the walls.
"Like anyone can avoid it," a
sleek voice purred. Andrea looked down. A small black cat had wrapped itself
around her legs, and stared up at her with extraordinary purple eyes. "Not
exactly the shy and retiring type, is he? Well, pick me up, mortal, and scratch
my ears."
Startled, she obeyed, the cat a
warm purring mass as it wriggled to collapse on her shoulder.
Mithros looked like he was
about rupture something. Andrea looked around nervously for a place that might
offer some sort of refuge from any stray thunderbolts he decided to fling and
came up empty.
"Hush, Fidelis," a smooth voice
said. A woman came walking out form behind one of the pillars, her black hair a
wavy mass that cascaded down to her feet and her eyes as green as spring. A
simple white shift only enhanced her beauty. "Calm yourself, brother." Her
intense stared fixed on Andrea, who clutched the cat more tightly. Surely this
was the great Goddess who ruled over all women.
She curtsied nervously. "My
lady..."
The Goddess waved a languid
hand. "You needn't bother, child." Her attention flicked between the pair of
them. Ryan stared back coolly – didn't *anything* faze him? "So you have
finally met."
Andrea glanced at Ryan, saw him
grin faintly. She looked back at the goddess, a little of the awe dimming from
the silken gold of her eyes. "We have, my lady."
"Not wantin' to offend an'
all," Ryan put in helpfully, "But did you want somethin'?"
The Goddess raised one slender
black eyebrow. "Child, it is strange how without wanting to offend, you manage
it marvellously every time."
"'M a thief, not a noble," the
boy said with a shrug. "An' a dead thief at that. What else can anyone do to
me?"
"I can be very creative,"
Mithros said darkly.
"Oh hush, brother," the Goddess
said dismissively. "You're all thunder and no lightning."
The storm god looked...sulky.
Andrea blinked. But gods didn't look sullen. They were supposed to be wise, and
venerable, and...
"He's only behaving because
last time he fought the Goddess, she won," the cat whispered in her ear.
...more human than she had
thought.
"As for what we want..." The
woman smiled, and it was as if the sun had plummeted into the room. "Look after
each other, children. You are surrounded by danger."
Ryan didn't look impressed by
this piece of divine wisdom. "My, how do you work these things out?"
"Girl...you must wrench free of
the creature that holds you." The woman moved towards her in a swish of silken
shift, the scent of summer. One cool perfect hand lifted her chin up and Andrea
quailed inwardly at the face. "You are so afraid of everything, child. They
have treated you badly...yet you had the courage to escape."
"I only escaped because I was
afeared, my lady," she whispered, hoping the Goddess would not be angry with
her.
"Do not be ashamed of your
Gift," the woman said solemnly. "It is a thing of beauty and splendour. And do
not be afraid of people. There are those who will not hurt you. You rescued one
of them from the Realms of the Dead. You must protect Ryan, as surely as he
must protect you."
"But *why*?" the streetboy
said. For the first time, a hint of bewilderment crept into the rough velvet of
his voice.
The Goddess's stunning cat eyes
narrowed. "Life has plans for you, children. I fear peacetime will not be long.
New gods are coming from across the sea, and they are cold and cruel. It is not
only mortals who will have a war upon their hands. Together, you will be
stronger. We cannot help you much...but we have given you each other. Treasure
the opportunity. It has saved you both already."
The woman let go of Andrea, and
spun sharply. "Thief, you can steal nothing from this place."
"Just lookin'," Ryan muttered.
He put down a silver icon he had been holding, looking sheepish.
"I have a suggestion, if I
might?" the cat purred from her shoulder. "If Grumpy over there isn't planning
on objecting."
Mithros's mouth was curled in
annoyance. "They say curiosity killed the cat. They may be about to change it
to incivility."
"Cats answer to no one," the
creature declared, and leapt from Andrea's shoulder to the ground, landing
light and sure. "The man who kills the Gifted and leads these thieves of the
Wild Magic...he uses his magic to put fear into his victims. I think, should
you look closely, you will find that is why this little mortal is so afraid of
all and sundry. Nevertheless, she lived alone for months, even though she hated
it. She could easily have taken up with some mortal man. After all, who would
refuse *her*?"
Andrea flushed. She was no
great beauty, the cat was just exaggerating. Her spun-gilt hair and golden eyes
were unusual, and she had a delicacy of feature about her, but that was all.
She was no Queen Thayet, or Princess Kalasin to win the hearts of thousands.
"She's brimming with magic,"
the cat purred softly, in its rich, rolling voice that twanged like the strings
of a harp. "And not all of it is hers. There have been spells put upon her, to
make her vulnerable and weak. Perhaps you could be useful for once, and lift
them."
"You certainly *are* uncivil,"
the Goddess remarked. But there was humour in her eyes. "However, you are also
right. And no doubt you will be insufferably smug about this for weeks."
The cat washed an ear
laconically, giving no answer but the merry twitch of its tail.
"That is my duty," Mithros
declared. "My chosen are known for their courage."
"And their big heads," Andrea
heard the cat mew.
The Sun-God beckoned her over
imperiously, and feeling nervous, Andrea obeyed. She was wringing her hands,
she realised, and tried to stop. He put one huge hands over both her small
ones, and sighed. "That wretched stray is right," he said flatly. "Someone has
put unnatural fear into you, child."
She had thought he might
apologise for shouting at her so often. But gods didn't apologise.
He murmured a word, and though
she felt no physical effect, it seemed as though some of the darkness and dread
had lifted from her mind.
"Be brave, chosen," he ordered.
"The road is long, the night is dark and the time is short."
The cat arched its back. "I bet
he spent ages thinking that quote up."
"And you, thief," Mithros
rapped. "Guard my chosen one well. Or you will not find your next death as
short-lived as the first."
Ryan gave Andrea a bright,
startlingly sweet smile. "She's got to look after me too," he protested. "I'm
just a poor, innocent little lamb, followin' the instructions of my gods..."
She had to smile. From what
little she had seen of him, innocent was a word that could in no way be
applied.
"Now begone from my home,"
Mithros snapped. "I grow tried of mortals cluttering it up."
The world winked out.
* * * *
"He's not awake, master."
Numair prayed silently as Laird
lied to the creature. Her voice was rock-steady, cool as ice. His eyes were
open, fixed by the spell. Above him, a rocky ceiling and in the corner of his
eyes, a flash of something scaled and clawed, a repulsive shadow the in the
half-light of the cave
"You're lying to me, slave."
He heard a crack and a faint
cry. Laird was in trouble. Damn. But this spell...
She's a red robe, he told
himself. You're a black robe. You should be able to unpick this spell easily.
Why are you still lying here?
He reached out with his magical
senses, testing the bindings around him. The were strong, yes, and neatly woven
but...there. A tiny flaw in the pattern. He drew up his magic like the head of
a spear, glitteringly black and sleek, and smashed the spell into pieces.
Numair slid off the stone onto
his feet in time to see a narrow head snap towards him, then a clawed foot
knocked him into the air and onto his back.
He hit the ground with a
painful crunch, cursing every god existing. Curse the creature, he would—
Its tail lashed down and he
rolled sideways, under the scant shelter of the table. Spell, spell, spell...
"Come out, mage," it screamed.
He saw its head bob down to glare at him with its three eyes. "I can *seeeee*
you!"
Great. Not only all-powerful
but totally insane too. Ozorne with scales.
Fire exploded from his hands,
flicking out at the creature like shining whips. It screamed and recoiled, one
eye gone.
He could just see Laird, a
slumped heap on the floor. He black hair was sprawled over her face like a
mourning shroud. A shroud...that was what they would both be wearing if he
didn't get rid of this creature. But he couldn't try any titanic spells, not in
this space, not with other mages imprisoned who knew where.
He edged out from the stone
table, over to Laird and shook her. She moaned softly, and sat up, her face a
mess. Its claws had raked her from temple to chin, narrowly missing her eyes.
"Can you fight?"
She didn't answer but looked
over his shoulder and in her black eyes, he saw the answer...
The Arachon, leaping like a cat
with its talons outstretched and ready to rip the life from them both—
She moved faster than his eye
could catch, pushing him sideways and following in one of the acrobatic leaps
she had begged for coin with when they had both been surviving on the streets.
It had been intending them to
land on them. But with nothing to grab hold of, the Arachon missed the floor
completely and hit the opposite wall with a resounding crack.
"Goddess, Goddess, Goddess,"
Laird kept saying under her breath. She was rubbing at the mess of her face
abstractedly. "it's going to *kill* me, Arram, it *will*."
It was beginning to pick itself
up, long slender legs pushing up the weight.
"Not if we kill it first," he
said tightly, running through the spells he could use. No point in turning it
into a tree. The spell needed soil to work. Opening the ground might drop them
into the chasm too. Calling down a firestorm...no, he had no urge to be a tasty
char-grilled mage. Damn, damn, damn!
"How?" Laird hissed
hysterically. "Turn it into a pumpkin?"
Its head was lifting, the
remaining two eyes fixing on them with a crazed glare. It had begun chittering
like a cricket, slowly standing. One clawed foot moving forward. The next. Step
after step, getting faster and faster, slinking forward like a dragon...
And it hit him.
Numair pointed at it and
screamed the words which flew into his head.
There was a dazzling flash of
black fire shot with silver, and a sound like thousand glasses smashing against
a wall.
When the sunspots had
disappeared from his eyes, the Arachon was gone. And in its place...
A very surprised dragon.
"Numair?" Laird said in a
hushed voice, clinging onto his arm. "What did you do?"
The dragon looked at him, its
vast turquoise eyes sparkling. ~ My question exactly. ~
* * * *
Andrea looked around. Still the
same carnage, the soft and shocked silence of the people who wandered among the
bodies of the dead. She saw one girl turn her face away as she glimpsed a child
cut near in two. Children and wives and fathers, all made equal by the slice of
a sword.
"Well," she said calmly,
looking down at the body by her feet. "That's you."
Ryan glanced down too, as his
own lifeless form. "Aye." Andrea wondered how his own face looked to him; even
in repose, there was an aristocratic tilt to his features, the shock of dark
hair stark against his too-pale skin. The scar that had once cut across his
face was gone somehow, and the vivid eyes were hidden.
"So much for restin' in peace,"
he said ruefully. He scuffed his feet, though they left no mark on the ground.
"Well...I guess I'll be seein' you."
"I hope so," she said with a
sigh. She knew what she had to go back to; pain, and torture, and the lizard
face of a monster with three eyes and no heart. She put a hand on his arm,
startled at herself. "Please...come and help me. I don't think I can get out of
there on my own."
The grey eyes met hers, clear
and full of faith. "I will, lass. I owe you."
There was a shimmering silver
cord attached from his foot to his body. Ryan glanced at it then reached down
and wrapped a hand around the cord. It seemed more instinct than anything.
He disappeared.
Alarmed, Andrea looked around.
"Ryan?"
Then below, she saw his hand
twitch, saw him take a deep breath and then his eyelids lifted slowly. She knew
he couldn't see her, but she heard the cool wind of his voice.
~ Thanks. ~
* * * *
A scant half hour after Neal had left, evening found Pip on the castle
parapets with a bow in her hand and a quiver slung across her back, out of the
impractical dress and in shirt and breeches. Other women lined the walls, but
to Pip's surprise, few nobles among them.
"We're lonely up here, ma'am,"
she remarked to the Queen, who looked forbidding with her black hair drawn back
and a sword slung over her hip. Her bow rested on the walls.
Thayet's hazel eyes twinkled
gently. "The blue blood seems to be too weak for fighting, Pip. And you don't
need to call me ma'am – we're informal up here."
Pip snorted, keeping her eyes
to the sky. With so many knights flooding from the castle, immortals would soon
be pouring in. "You mean those idiots are too afraid."
"They haven't had the training
we have. You forget, most families prefer their daughters to be gentle, fragile
creatures."
She had to grin. Her father had
put a bow in her hand at five, a knife at eight and she had been fortunate
enough to meet a Shang Master for a brief two weeks at the age of twelve.
"Useless."
"For anything but marriage,
alas," the Queen agreed. She sighed. "Ever since Jon told Kally she couldn't be
a page, she's gone down that road."
Sure enough, Princess Kalasin
was nowhere to be seen. "Why?"
Thayet arched her black
eyebrows. "Oh, she's as stubborn as Jon. Wretched child, why couldn't she have
had his face and *my* temperament?"
Privately Pip thought that the
result would have been the same. King and Queen were equally stubborn.
"She's decided that if she
makes herself into one of those cloying, revolting courtiers who flutter around
like headless chickens, he'll give in and let her learn. It's not that she
isn't prepared to marry, she just wants to fill up the time usefully until she
does so."
"Sounds sensible to me," Pip
said. What that a dot in the sky? She narrowed her eyes, leaning out over the
wall.
"It is," Thayet agreed
abstractedly. She too had spotted the moving black spot. "But it is *not*
practical for her to train as a knight! She would be eighteen before she was
done, and then bound to the realm. Her marriage is planned for her sixteenth
birthday."
Pip flinched inwardly. Her
father had planned her marriage for sixteen, but in the end her betrothed had
refused her because she was too 'unladylike'. Still, he had regretted that when
she blacked his eye for it.
As the black circle loomed, she
forgot that. It was not one speck, but many.
Thayet straightened, her face
paling. "Hurroks!" she cried. "Archers ready!"
There was frantic activity as
Riders and nobles alike fitted arrows to their bows, mages muttered the first
words of spells and rainbow fires leapt up all around.
Pip waited.
* * * *
Ryan blinked sleepily. Moaning
Mithros, his head *hurt*. With a groan, he sat up, rubbing at his temples.
Someone screamed.
He looked up, and there was a
girl, an archer from the guards on her wrist, staring at him and shrieking fit
to wake the dead. He grinned at the thought.
"You...you..." she babbled. Her
doe-brown eyes were huge with fear.
"Vanya?" another voice said. It
was a young woman he didn't know, with sea-green eyes and freckles dusting her
elfin face. "What are you yowling about?"
The archer pointed a shaking
finger at Ryan. "He...he was *dead*."
The woman followed her hand.
Ryan smiled sheepishly at her and got to his feet lightly, wincing as muscles
complained. "He looks quite lively to me."
"No, she's right," he put in,
before the red-headed archer fired an arrow at him to prove her point. Though
her hands were shaking so much, he doubted it would hit him. "I was dead. I got
a reprieve."
"Hmmm." The woman eyed him
suspiciously. "Do you have a name, boy?"
"Yes." If she wanted his name,
she could damn well ask. And where was Kel? Ryan remembered her fighting right
beside him, and then there had been the pain of the axe and...nothing.
The woman's voice sharpened.
"And it is?"
"Ryan Talver." He eyed her
impassive face. "Thief an' mage apprentice at your service. An' who are you?"
The woman blinked, startled at
the question. "Miri, commander of the Fifth Riders. Are you one of Master
Salmalin's?"
"Aye," he said. "I was
travellin' with some people...a squire, Kel...I mean, Keladry of Mindelan. And
some Court bint."
Miri's face became grave.
"Keladry was injured. I'm afraid she—"
His heart went cold. Kel? Hurt?
He looked around frantically, scanning the scene. The road, strewn with bodies,
and the woodland thick and green all around, but all so still. Then he saw the
healer, sitting with blue fire smouldering around, futilely trying to heal a
girl whose face he knew far too well.
Miri was left gaping as the
streetboy strode past her, a curious kind of pain in his face.
* * * *
"He's obviously not here,"
Joren finally observed lazily. The blond boy cast a languid eye about the spot
where they had met Numair Salmalin. "As far as I know, he's not known for
playing hide-and-seek. Or shall I count to ten in a loud voice and hope?"
Cleon was counting to ten under
his breath to try and restrain himself from hitting Joren. His snide comments
were getting on his sole remaining nerve.
"Well, where can he have gone?"
he demanded. Empty road, empty sky, only the chill of winter beating down on
them. "He's a mage!"
Joren shrugged. "Mindelan," he
pointed out coolly. "Is supposed to be a squire. Look what happened to her."
Cleon glared at him fiercely,
starting to see red as his hair. "They don't train us to fight rabid
shapeshifters."
"Oh, I don't know," Joren
mused. "Lord Wyldon certainly comes close. He goes quite apoplectic if you miss
a strike." He yawned. "Should we wend our way back, then? Break the news that
the realm's greatest maze seems to have all the directional ability of a dead
snail?"
"Something might have happened
to him," Cleon said anxiously. There wasn't even a trace of footsteps. But...he
stepped over to the thin grass of the verge and stared at the marks there.
"Well," Joren continued
blithely, dusting off his finery, "I would have thought that was fairly
obvious. Or perhaps he's just spotted another promising mage to take advantage
of."
Cleon hunkered down to examine
them. They looked like bird's steps...if the bird had feet a foot and a half
long. Frowning, he followed them into the woods, leaving Joren's arrogant voice
far behind.
The woods were cool and dark,
branches brushing his faces like Stormwing feathers. Normally he would have
been on his guard for spidrens...but there were no immortals here. There was
nothing, not even the thin flute of birdsong. Only a patient silence.
Someone had flattened a path
through the shrubs and trees he saw. A *wide* path. Whatever it was, was at
least five feet wide, and strong enough to fell a tree. And tall too. Cleon was
starting to get worried...this was nothing natural. Only the grey creatures of
Carthak – the elephants – measured up to this.
And suddenly, the trail
stopped, in front of a sheer rock face.
Cleon frowned. Mountains were
common enough in the North, but not like this. The rock was a perfectly smooth,
flat grey, with only a single arch of a hairline crack running along it. No
jagged edges, no overhangs, no *slope*. Just vertical cliff.
He stood back to look better.
Behind him, he heard Joren's grumbling cultured voice floating nearer. This was
*weird*.
"What have you stopped *here*
for?" a disgusted Joren said when he finally arrived. "Don't tell me I just dragged
myself through three hundred yards of mud and trees to stare at a piece of
rock."
"The path led here," he
answered absently. That arch-shaped crack...could it be the outline of a
doorway? He reached out and pushed the section of rock to see if it would swing
open, like they always did in the old fairytales. Nothing.
"Oh *good*," Joren drawled
acerbically. "And are we going to stand here waiting for enlightenment or turn
around and explain that Master Salmalin has decided to do a rather convincing vanishing
trick?"
Cleon turned to glare at him.
"Do you *ever* shut up?"
Joren's blue eyes were cool as
ice-comets. "Not when I have good reason to complain." He reached out and
slapped the rockface. "Look. It's *stone*. It's not going anywhere—"
But Cleon wasn't listening. He
could see a faint indentation in the rock now, just to the left of the arch. It
looked like a *hand*. Very faint, you wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking
closely. Cautiously, he placed his palm in the indentation and—
The arch swung inwards
silently.
For the first time in two
hours, Joren shut up.
* * * *
She looked so small.
That was all Ryan could think,
and it just kept spinning round and round and round his head. This was Kel, who
fought spidrens and noblewomen with equal vigour, who was fierce without
cruelty and no, not perfect but still...somehow his.
"It's no use," the healer was
saying to a tall, gaunt man. He had to be a relative of Kel's; though his face
was older and harder, the pensive eyes were the same, and the determined mouth.
"I'm sorry, Sir Inness..."
The man turned away sharply,
putting a hand over his eyes.
"Can I try?" Ryan asked
quietly. He wouldn't give up. Andrea had brought him back from the *dead*.
The healer's look had a touch
of scorn, though his voice was sad. "You're just a boy. Lad, I'm telling you,
we've lost this one. It...it happens."
"Not to my friends," Ryan
snapped angrily. The healer opened his mouth to say something, but then the
Rider girl, Miri, called to him.
"Curio, he's one of Numair's.
Let him try." There the ghost of a smile of her face. "After all, he's just
come back from the dead."
Bemused, the healer obeyed.
Ryan knelt down, putting his hands to Kel's temples as he had seen the healers
do so often.
He didn't know how to heal. But
he knew someone who did.
~ Andrea? ~ he called in his
mind. He could feel the power that bound them; it was as though they were two
people on either side of a door. All he had to do was open it. ~ Are you there?
Are you okay? ~
~ I'm here. ~ He could sense
her beyond that door, a soft golden presence. ~ The Arachon gave up on me.
Threw me back in the cells. ~ Concern...he could sense what she was feeling,
and she had to be able to do the same. ~ You need help? ~
~ I need to heal, ~ he said
hopelessly. ~ My friend, she's hurt. Can you tell me how? ~
~ Of course...just listen to
what I tell you. ~
He listened to her sunlit
voice, a warmth and light in the bleakness of his situation, and gently sank
magic into Kel, searching for the flicker of fire inside her that would mean
she was alive. Around him, her blood swishing weakly, the slowing thud of her
heartbeat...and then he saw it.
Just a glint of copper, same as
the highlights in her hair and the flecks in her eyes, but it was there. He
flooded magic and energy into that spark until it flared up, and like a flower
unfolding, he could hear scraps of Kel's thoughts as she woke back up.
~ She'll be fine now, ~ Andrea
said, satisfied. But there was sadness in her voice too.
~ You sound upset, ~ he
remarked.
Her embarrassment, like a deer
frozen in firelight. ~ Oh...you just seem so close. I've...never had a friend.
~
~ We're friends! ~ he said
indignantly.
~ We are? ~
~ Hate to tell you, but
ordinary people don't save each other's lives and talk like this. ~
~ But we're bound, ~ she said
feebly.
Half his mind on healing, Ryan
snorted. ~ Don't go all noble-witted on me, girl. You ain't ever had much
chance to make friends. But you'll see...it'll be different from now. You ain't
goin' to be alone. ~
He heard her laugh, and
wondered at her next words. ~ I'm not alone now...I think...maybe I do have
friends. I just didn't know. ~
But he forgot her words as Kel
opened her eyes.
* * * *
"Ah," Numair said weakly.
"Hello."
The dragon glared. ~ What do
you mean 'hello'? Mortal, I was in the middle of an exquisite meal in the
Dragonrealms. Why did you bring me here? ~
The mage squirmed. "I didn't so
much...bring you here, as send something else there. I just didn't anticipate
I'd bring back anything living."
~ Oh *didn't you*? ~ the
reptile said icily. It was at least thirty feet long, much larger than the
Arachon, and in the narrow cave it was, to say the least, snug. Its scales were
a deep shade of green, catching blue highlights in the sole unscathed torch. ~
Well, I'm alive, mage! ~
"I can see that," he answered,
trying to think of any spells that could give the dragon more room.
~ What did you send back?
Insolent wretch, ~ it muttered resentfully, stretching out.
He wasn't sure he wanted to
tell it. Dragons and Arachons were notorious for their hatred of one another,
despite the fact the Arachon was part-dragon. "An Arachon."
~ Ah. Dessert. Very nice those,
just a touch crunchy. ~ Its nostrils flared as the head snaked forward to sniff
at them. ~ You're lucky. Jewelclaw was next to me and he has *far* less
patience with you fumbling magic-wielders. If you'd got him, you'd be seeing
the business end of a massacre right about now. ~
"I know." He remembered the
tetchy dragon. "I've met him."
~ Oh, you're *that* mage. ~ The
dragon flicked its tail and the wall crumbled into powder. ~ That's better. So
*cramped* in here. And what about you, little red robe? I see you have that
monster's marks on you. ~
"I was its slave," Laird said
in a small voice. She had backed away from the dragon, ignoring her bleeding
face. "My own fault. Are you...going to eat us?"
There was still a lot of the
scared commoner in her, Numair realised. She might have aged, and changed her
clothes from filthy to scarlet, but underneath, she was still Laird y Sanra.
The dragon gave a snort of
amusement. ~ I like mortals, ~ it declared, then its head darted forward on the
long neck. ~ In gravy. ~
Laird gasped and leapt back.
~ Sorry, ~ the dragon added. ~
Just my little joke. ~
"I haven't met many dragons
that joke," Numair murmured.
It rattled its claws on the
stone. ~ I'm unique. That's why they named me Jademirth. If you don't mind, I
shall wait outside of these dingy caves. And then, mage, we shall discuss
etiquette. Specifically when it is considered sporting to remove a dragon from
his homeland. ~
"Certainly," Numair said
politely. "And perhaps we shall also discuss when it is appropriate to make
jokes about devouring people."
He fancied he heard a touch of
respect in the dragon's voice before it rippled out. ~ Hmmph. ~
* * * *
Cleon crept quietly down the
passageway, each step slow and sure. He and Joren had decided not to take a
light; although they couldn't see anything, it meant no one could see them
either.
They had argued for a near an
hour over whether to go back and get help or not. But the others were a half
hour's ride back to the village on their weary horses, and double that walking.
But in the end, curiosity and valour had won out.
The passageway was twisting and
turning, just large enough for a man, but not for the thing which had wrenched
its way through the forest. The light of the doorway was far behind now as they
moved deeper into the black heart of the caves. They could have walked past a
thousand turnings for all he knew.
A sound from behind, like a
hammer on stone.
"What was *that*?" Joren hissed.
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Women's intuition?" the squire
suggested coolly.
Cleon decided not to warn him
about the jagged rock he had so nearly tripped over. There was an 'oomph'
behind him, and Joren saying words which were certainly not going to win him
favour with any of the Court ladies he was so often ringed by.
He turned a tight corner and
had to shield his eyes daylight dazzled him. He blinked, waiting for his vision
to clear, and found himself in a vaguely rectangular room with doors on the
other three sides and two torches at the sides of each. Above, no ceiling but
the sky, endlessly azure, and the surrounding mountains like jagged grey teeth.
"What's this then?" Joren
remarked idly as he strolled in.
Cleon shrugged and examined the
closest door. Nothing magical about it, just a sturdy bar over the door and the
usual runes that meant while anyone could open the door from the outside, from
the inside nothing could pass.
He opened it.
He wasn't prepared for the
horror that lay within.
* * * *
Well! A little longer than
usual to make up for the wait – I am truly, truly sorry – I hope you enjoyed
:-) Please tell me if you did; please tell me if you didn't. I'd love to hear
your thoughts, comments, opinions…all welcomed with open arms, heart and mind.
So huge, huge, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed last time round –
it was an absolute joy hearing what you had to say! You're all wonderful,
special, fabulous and perfect angels! Thank you to:
The awesome Aquilla: Oh, Squire is out so soon…I'm dying to read
it. I've heard so much stuff about what's going to happen in it…aaaargh...you
must be right about exams. I have a whole bunch of them soon. (Oh gods. A month
and a half until the real things. I think it's time to start panicking). I
loved that drawing of Atalssa and Ralf! Can I put it on my site, please?
:;beams:; Oh, read the Nightworld books! L.J. Smith is such a great writer!
Thanks!
The astounding Arial: Thanks so much :-) I hoping to get published when
I'm older...I love writing. Soon…uh…not quite, but this part's pretty long to make
up for it! I've only just read the CoM books (I got round to it, finally.) Ryan
isn't based on Briar, but I see the similarities. ::shrug:: But I see some
differences too, I hope! My inspiration? Hmm...I wanted to find out what
writing a TP fanfic would be like – I've written a lot of LJ Smith fanfic (she
rocks, BTW), but I've never tried TP's world. As it is, the story's pretty
rough and ready at the moment, but hopefully the next one will be a lot
smoother. I also know what's going to happen in it, which helps! (There is
going to be a sequel ::wince:: It's a bad habit of mine.) Thanks!
The amazing Arturo: Well, so much for writing the next chapter really
soon ::guilty look:: But it is a little longer than usual to make up for it!
Pip and Neal...I was wavering over, but it just didn't go anywhere. Thank you so much!
The captivating Cass: Hiya, and thank you! I'm thrilled you like it –
it's a joy to write, and a learning curve. Ryan's fun. He's a little based on a
certain someone I know (who's an absolute fiend.), but I never expected him to
feature this much in the story.
The cherished Chip: Hiya! ::grins: Thanks – it's great that you like
the story (I have a lot of fun writing it) and please tell you friend thank you
from me! Kel and Ryan…heh heh…I reserve the right to be deeply and utterly
evil.
The dazzling Daine: That Arachon will get just what it deserves :-)
Sadly, lightning only splintered the metaphorical and mental world. It's still
out there, getting its wicked way! France was fun :-) I love the food there.
Most of it. J And the wine.
The divine Danel: Thanks :-) I always have a lot of fun writing this.
It's one of my escapes from reality. Hey, if you do think of anything to
improve it, scream! (Thanks for the Fred&George thing, I'm working on
that.)
The delightful Dead Flower: I couldn't kill them :-) My heart just
wasn't in it! And besides ::evil laugh:: I have Plans….of a serial nature...
The delectable Dee: Hey, I know what it is to be swamped by exams! I'm
about to experience it myself! ::grins:: I never expect reviews…just be really
happy when I get them! That way it's such a great surprise! Girl, you have got
to read the books! They're wicked! I'm working on Andrea :-) Ryan's been
having all the fun. Laird is the mage who, earlier in the story, clonked Andrea
over the head and carried her off to the monster. Hint? Moi? Never!
The excellent Eviltama: Thank you very much :-) I'm sure you can write
like that! 'Sides I write too much (three years and I've done s*d all
homework.) Thanks!
The gorgeous Gwyn: I was tempted...but neal and Pip didn't work :-)
She's interested in someone else and so's he. Always a bad start. ::grins::
Hmm...let's see how that stumbling goes! Thank you!
The heavenly Harkly: Jerry Springer for characters? That could be fun…I
can't really see Kel yelling at Uline (Yo, bitch, you stole my man!) and
smashing a chair over anyone's head...I'm in the coolies zone? ::brightens::
Thanks! Long may you enjoy.
The incredible Ivy Leaves: Hallo, and thank you very much! ::grins::
You may see me wearing a Newberry Medal, but it'll be because I'm running at
high speed away from some unconscious Newberry winner and holding a big
crowbar. But hey, I can dream, right? :-)
The jocose Jenn: Thank you muchly – sorry that it has been such a
horribly long wait! I have however, gotten busy in the past few days and done
some more of the story, so hopefully the wait will not be *too* long for Part
Eighteen. (The story, is well over halfway through now…I'm aiming to stop
before Part Twenty Five. Though I have the sinking feeling this is but one of a
series...)
The cracking Karalea: I can't kill Kel – that would really screw up the
story! All men are fools :-) it's a given (no, I'm kidding.) Numair…ah, well,
you may well be right there...though it may not show for a while...Ryan and
Adnrea do have pretty phenomenal world splitting powers! But hey, we'll see :-)
Thanks!
The kosher Katya: Hi! There will be a Hanging On 2 (as such), soon as
I'm done with this one. It'll probably centre more around the palace and the
problem to come. Hey, thanks for passing it round :-) I'm totally elated that
your friends like it! (tell them thanks from me). I'm a Jk Rowling fan J I haven't read Philip
Pullman yet, I keep meaning to (I'm still going through Stephen King at the
mo). Thank you so much...sorry this was a little alter than I said, but I
couldn't get on on Monday.
The kickass Kitkat: Alas, the Arachon must have gotten lost on the way
to my house J But thank you, I
have got the next part written at last!
The lovely Lady: I'm back on
chocolate now, with a vengeance! I'm working on the story, it's getting places.
I know the last couple of parts weren't heowge on the excitement factor. There
is a *lot* more in this chapter. ::grins:; Nah, I don't mind criticism – I've
never had any that's been unfair yet. If it serves to give me a good kick in
the hiney, it's worthwhile. Thanks!
The lively Leap: My school did that, but I didn't pay up so they cut
off my addy and I'm stuck (oh horrors!) with my hotmail one :-) Tell me if I
make any huge out of character shifts. :-) Ta!
The luminous Leevee: Moi? Kill kel? Well…no…because that would really
knacker any chance of being remotely c0onnectable to the TP books. (Squire's
out soooo soon!) And I also don't want to end up in the Realms myself – well,
not yet! Thanks!
The outstanding Orenda: Well, some people can carry of bald, and some
people can't. :-) Obviously, you can! Gods, has it really been five weeks?
(Mental count…) Nope. Only three. ::cough:: Only…umm...yes…guilty.
The superb Shannon Cooper: France was fabulous, thank you muchly. Hey,
I'm not picky about adjectives :-) I swear, the characters write themselves.
There must be some sort of parallel universe where they exist...thanks!
The superlative Sparrow: Which twist? I've lost track now (this is
never a good sign.) Pip is out of the running with Neal, but in the running
with someone else. ::grins:; Thanking people's isn't an effort. It's fun.
The splendid Sulia Serafine: Apparently, to go OT, Serafine means
'ardent' in another language :o) Fact for the day! Nah, I couldn't see Pip or
Neal together...but I can see Pip with someone and I may well have fun with
this in the next story (I've resigned myself to the fact that there's going to
be a next one. Once I start writing I can't stop.) Thanks!
The terrific Tatra: Hiya! Well, okay, so much for the soon thing, but
it is a helluva lot longer than usual so hopefully that'll make up for it some!
I couldn't kill Ryan…yet…thanks!
The elusive :o): Ryan has gone back :-) I couldn't kill him – I was
getting attached to him! (Though this has not stopped me before.) What does the
Arachon want with Numair? Power ::mwahahaha::. ! Pure power! Well, it ain't
what anyone could call soon, but I have written more! Cheers!