Sorry this took so
long – I have had mocks (all of which I passed, yay) but my exam leave starts
end of next week so I will have lots of time to revise, otherwise known as:
write. Thank you all for your patience – you are angels – and I hope you enjoy!
Commets are adored, pored over, adulated,
venerated, revered, cheered and cherished. I love hearing what you think about
the story; I can hack criticism, so that's welcome! Thoughts, comments,
opinions – I'd love to know.
Hugs n' honey,
Ki
Hanging On Part
Eighteen
It was the stench
that got to him.
Cleon wanted to vomit. It was rank, a sickly
sweet scent that he knew too well, and wished he didn't. The room was dark lit,
and for that he was glad. He knew what it was; a torture chamber. He had heard
of them – supposedly, there had been one in the palace once, in the reign of
Francis the Cruel – but never thought he'd live to see one.
He had been wrong.
"Hello?" he called, surprised at how his
voice quivered. "Is anyone...alive in there?"
Don't let there be, he prayed. Don't make me
go down in there. Some things should remain locked in darkness.
There was only silence. He saw no movement
from the figures – some only skeletons – chained to the wall, to the strange
devices, scattered on the floor.
He slammed the door shut and leaned back
against it.
"What was it?" Joren inquired coolly. "Was
there a mirror in there?"
"It was a torture chamber," Cleon said
hollowly. He didn't even have the energy to be annoyed by Joren's sarcasm. "A
used one."
A second miracle; Joren held his peace, and
his mouth narrowed into the stubborn lines that usually meant someone was about
to get a good kicking. "We'd better check the others then," he said with more
determination than Cleon would have credited him with.
"Yeah," he echoed, and made himself walk over
to the next door as Joren pulled it open, squinting down into the darkness. I'm
a knight, he told himself. Or...I will be. I'll see worse than this.
There was movement.
His heart went stone cold inside his chest,
and Cleon swallowed hard. He didn't pray much, but over the last day, he had
seemed to do nothing else.
"Hello?" he called into the shadowy mass. One
step in, and the icy shell around his heart seemed to shrink and contract until
he could barely breathe.
Something ran out of the darkness at him, and
Cleon nearly yelled and leapt back, until he realised the creature was only a
few feet high, and before it reached him, it stumbled and fell, and then cried
out in a voice that was sweet and childlike.
Cleon instinctively picked the beastling up –
he'd five brothers and sisters back home, and he had gotten used to comforting
them – and discovered it was a child, a dirt-smeared, sniffling girl who stared
at him like he was a dragon or a unicorn.
"Gods be good," Joren drawled, stepping
delicately into the room. "Don't they believe in soap? Or light?"
"It's a dungeon," a dry voice said. It
sounded vaguely familiar to Cleon...but he dismissed it as the child suddenly
squirmed and yowled to be put down. "They tend to go heavy on the stone and
dark."
Joren blinked, clearly startled. He looked
utterly out of place in his fine clothes, clean and cool as a sculpture cut
from sapphire. "Are you planning to skulk in the shadows forever?"
Cleon found his eyes adjusting to the dark,
and he could see a shape huddled in one corner. The little girl had run over to
it – no, he corrected, the voice had been masculine, *him* - and was curled
protectively in the boy's arms, her eyes doe-brown, soft and wary.
"My skulking days are long gone," the boy
said, but there was no trace of self-pity in his voice, simply factual
acceptance. "I'm a cripple, I'm afraid. I suppose you were hoping for a fair
and scantily clad maiden, but I'll have to do. Oh wise and handsome rescuers
etcetera, etcetera."
Joren scowled, his full mouth quivering
dangerously near a pout. "You could be a bit more polite. Do you have a name?"
"Yes."
Joren went an interesting shade of purple as
the boy didn't offer any more information. It was clear he had expected a
little more fawning, gratitude and general showering of praises.
Cleon cut in before Joren started being
petty. "I'm Cleon of Kennan, and this is Joren of Stone Mountain. We're squires
of Tortall. We stumbled on here by accident."
"Cleon of Kennan?" There was sudden sharp
interest in the boy's voice. There was an odd scraping sound, and then Cleon
realised the boy was dragging himself into the thin grey rectangle of light
that the sole window – though it was more a gaping hole – threw onto the floor.
The boy, he realised, looked somehow scarily
familiar. But his eyes chilled Cleon. They were black as the secret depths of
night, falling away into infinity like dual wells, and haunted.
"Yes," he said finally. "It's a western
barony...do you know it?"
The boy gave a short, husky laugh. "Know it?
I was born there."
Suddenly the odd sense of déjà vu fell into
place. The slanting cheekbones, they were the inheritance of his mother that
Cleon alone of the family seemed to have missed. The arching nose, the proud
set of the face that meant stubbornness to the bone. And of course, the famous
Kennan hair, red as sunset and with a temper to shatter worlds.
"I'm Marcus of Kennan," the boy murmured.
"Oh gods," Joren moaned. The blond squire
looked disgusted. "I feel a tender reconciliation coming on."
* * * *
Kel felt the odd drowsiness that had
overtaken her recede slowly, like water draining into the ground. When she
opened her eyes, the light shredded her vision into golden strips, making her
wince and shield her eyes.
The first thing she saw was Ryan.
Well, that was a good start. His eyes were
the soft, pure colour of silver silk, and peering down at her with worry. That
was his hands, gentle on her temples, moving to lift her to a sitting position.
"Why was I lying down?" she asked, startled
at how rusty her voice sounded. She couldn't have been out more than a minute
or two.
"You were takin' a short rest," he said
quietly. "In peace."
"Eh?" It wasn't the most intelligent response
ever, but it was all she could manage. Was he saying she'd *died*? "Let me up,"
Kel insisted. The world would be a saner place once she was standing again,
once she had weapons.
"You might be a bit unsteady," the streetboy warned,
but there was relief written all over him. She let him support her, help she
probably wouldn't have accepted from many other people. "Death really takes it
out of you."
Kel snorted, her face focused on ignoring the
watery weakness in her body. "It's a rare day when it gives anything back."
"Well, ain't you lucky I was here?" he said
brightly, letting go off her. "Reckon your brother might be glad to see you."
Her brother? Conal? Anders? Inness? Why would
any of them be here?
Her memories of the moments before she had
collapsed flooded back. Of course. The shapeshifters. The creatures who had
stolen wild magic...
She looked around her then, and was horrified
by what she saw. Bodies. There had obviously been am massive fight and *this*
was the result. Kel looked at Ryan, aghast, and saw the answer in his pale
face.
"Not all of 'em," he said. "I heard them
Riders talkin', an' they said the main one...Bruna's da, he escaped."
"Kel?"
She turned and saw Inness, his eyes wide and
for once, lacking the dreaminess they usually had. "You're...all right?" he
asked doubtfully.
"Well, you don't have to sound so pleased
about it," she said dryly. The look on his face said that she most definitely
had been dead. This was...unnerving. She didn't know if the Yamanis had any
method for dealing with this kind of thing.
He began to smile slowly, but she still saw
fear in his eyes. That hurt. Her brother, the glorious knight, was afraid of
*her*. His kid sister. "I am," he said, but sounded uncertain. "It's just..."
She tried to look impassive. Ryan was a
reassuring presence nearby, and one swift glance over her shoulder showed the
usual wicked sparkle in his eyes. Some things didn't change.
"No one could survive a blow like that," her
brother muttered. He bit his lip, looking anywhere but at her. Even looking at
those poor pitiful bodies. "Kel...I don't know how that streetboy brought you
back but...I don't know if was white magic."
"It was," Ryan said shortly. "You got a
problem with it, you can go an' take it up with the Goddess an' Mithros. An'
they can be tetchy."
"You spoke to the gods?" her brother said,
his hazel eyes widening so she could see the tiny flecks of gold in them, like
honey had spattered into his irises.
"Argued, more like," Ryan agreed.
Inness opened and closed his mouth a few
times, apparently lost for words.
"There's a river nearby if you want to carry
on doing a fish impression, Inness," the amused voice of a young woman said.
Kel recognised her as the captain of the Fifth Riders, Miri. "Well, Squire
Keladry, it's good to see you up and about. I hope you're completely healed
because we've got problems ahead."
"Problems?" she echoed, feeling rather lost.
She had been...gone...a couple of hours, and it seemed like the world had been
toppled onto its side.
"The leader of these creatures got away," the
woman explained briskly. A few cuts marred her freckled skin.
The leader...a silver slice of memory leapt
into her head. The man, with his cold and barren voice, the voice of a noble.
Bruna's father.
"I know who he is," she said.
The reaction was electric. Heads snapped
round, and Miri's eyes lit up like a pair of stars burning green. "Who?"
"He's Lady Bruna of Farbrook's father." She
looked around for the noblewoman and saw her, a huddle of silk and blood on the
floor. She swallowed. "Is she...?"
"Unconscious," the healer by her answered,
his hands to her temples. "Lord Vernon of Farbrook? I'd heard, but..."
"We've all heard about him," Inness stated
flatly. His shock was replaced by a hardness Kel didn't like. There was a very
empty coldness in his eyes...would she be like that one day? Was that what
being a knight truly meant? "None of us believed the rumours."
"More fool us," Miri murmured. "Riders, we're
splitting in two." Her sea-green eyes fixed Kel, flecks of turquoise swimming
in their depths. "Keladry, you and your friends will remain here – if you feel
up to it, set up a camp. We've been told the King is riding to meet us, with as
many knights as he can summon. They will be here in a matter of days. Our
healers will stay with you."
She turned back to the rest of her company.
"We'll start sweeping the area," she said clearly. "Stay in pairs, don't go off
alone. We *do* know what's out there, and you can all see how dangerous it is.
I can't ask our streetboy here to bring you all back from the dead. Sir Inness,
Sir Paxton, will you ride with us?"
Her brother nodded and the elderly knight who
had been stranded off to one side gave a short bark of an affirmative
"Kel, if you see Joren and Cleon, let them
know where we've gone," her brother said. His gaze was affectionate. "Try not
to die again. I've had enough shocks for one day."
Cleon was here? Kel felt much better knowing
that – and she wanted her big friend to meet Ryan. She felt sure they'd get on.
But as for Joren...well, if she had to put up with him to talk to Cleon –
someone else who *knew* what being a squire *meant* - she could live with it.
And she could *live*, more importantly.
* * * *
As soon as the cry came, Pip was drawing back
her bow, sighting along the arrow at the dots growing bigger. A cold mass
quivered in her stomach, but she ignored it. She would *not* go to pieces. That
was not the ha Minch way.
The hurroks loomed, closer and closer, until
she saw the sunlight flashing silver off their claws, sliding along their
matted coats, saw the glint of teeth.
"Archers!" the Queen shouted beside Pip, her
own bow drawn and her face fierce, "Loose on my word!"
They waited, waited, waited, Pip wanting to
scream with the fear. The Queen was leaving this lethally late; the shrill
battlecry of the hurroks pierced her ears as they blocked out the blue sky—
"Fire!"
The rain of arrows was fatally close. Hurroks
crashed onto the battlements below with a volley of resounding thumps as Pip
frantically restrung her bow and spun, seeking a new target. There were too
many to choose from – she hadn't even known this many hurroks *existed* in the
Mortal Realms, had the gods somehow missed them?
Then she saw something drop from a hurrok's
back, something squat and man-shaped. It wore rusted armour, and as it spun,
its eyes fixed on Pip. She felt her face go cold, and she began to
unconsciously back away.
It followed, oddly graceful for something so
stocky. Long dirty-grey hair trailed from its head and back, and as Pip stared
at it, she realised it was moving of its own accord.
No. The creature's
hair was made of snakes.
A gorgon.
It was chattering
something strange, sounding like a thousand angry crickets, and walking towards
Pip with its eyes fixed on her. It could have been human, if not for the hair.
She felt a tingle up her spine, the tingle that meant magic.
"Leave me alone!" she screamed and loosed the
arrow. Behind it, she saw more gorgons spring from the back of the winged
horses as archers fought to defend themselves.
The arrow bounced off the creature like it
was made of stone.
"That's not the way to handle 'em, girl!" a
forceful voice bellowed in her ear. A small, wiry woman slipped past her. She
must have been over forty with her curling grey hair.
"What are you doing?" Pip cried, trying to
grab her arm as the woman started towards the creature. She was going to be
slaughtered!
But somehow, the woman slithered from her
grasp like smoke, running towards the gorgon. "Keep the hurroks off me!" the
woman called back urgently, and as Pip watched, she *jumped* into the air, one
foot uncoiling from her body as she flew towards the creature.
She's going to die, Pip thought numbly even
as she reached for another arrow, fired blindly at the off-white mass of
beating wings and claws that filled the stinking air.
The woman's foot hit the gorgon right between
the eyes, flinging it backwards. And while Pip strung, aimed, loosed, strung,
aimed, loosed, one among dozens in the crowded press of mortal and immortal on
the battlements, the small woman slammed her fist down and *through* its
unprotected throat. When she ripped her hand free, it was covered in silver
blood.
She's a Shang, Pip realised, unaware of how
pale and set her face was, her eyes glowing like two green fires.
She stopped for a
second and stared disbelievingly at the woman. Yes, her dusty jacket had faded
globes on it, and she moved with the easy, fearless glide of a predator.
Pip was struck by an envy so sharp it nearly
took her breath away. That was what she wanted to be. Not some unmarriageable,
useless noble, but a fighter. Someone who could topple immortals.
The woman's mouth was wide, shouting words
that came through to Pip dimly. "Behind you!" And she was running, but the look
on her face said it was too late...
A rush of air to her left and Pip threw
herself flat, tucking into a ball like Neal had taught her, rolling to her
feet. She spun. Not a gorgon, but a hurrok swooping angrily. Its claws brushed
the air where she had been, but murder in its wild eyes, it flew at her.
Pip didn't know what took over her. But she
wasn't panicking, time had seemed to slow as if the hurrok was flying through
water, and she had forever to make her decision.
Step sideways, like this, and as it slid
past, catch its mane, like this, and push against the ground, feel the air
skimming coldly over her skin for a moment, then pulling herself up onto its
back, her arms screaming with the effort.
The world slammed back in on her.
I'm on a hurrok.
The immortal screamed furiously and tried to
turn its head to snap at her. She punched it between the eyes.
I've gone insane, Pip thought. Completely,
terminally crazy.
Because she wasn't afraid, or worried, or any
of the things she should be. Her mind was calm, even *enjoying* the sensation
of the wind, of being in control, of fighting this savage beast that swung its
body left and right in an effort to throw her off.
One of the first stunts that had landed Pip
in trouble was learning to ride bareback. The hurrok was thrashing about like a
stranded fish, true, but it was nothing compared to Viper, her first horse.
It was flying higher and higher in an effort to
throw her off, until they were soaring above the battle. From above, the clash
looked like a sea of swirling grey, mixed with flashes of colour that had to be
mages, swamping the immortals with waves of fire.
"You can't get rid of me," Pip shouted at it,
not knowing if it could understand.
She had to be able to *do* something from up
here. Anything.
That odd tingle
again, that warned her of magic and then a voice was shouting at her furiously.
~ Phillippa ha Minch! Phillippa! ~
The speaking spell was right by her ear. She
winced at the frantic voice. It was Harailt of Alii, the head mage.
"I'm fine," she yelled as the wind snatched
her words. She couldn't keep the elation out of her voice. "It's behaving."
She heard the mage take a deep breath. ~ What
in the name of all gods were you *thinking* of? Do you have any plans on how to
get down? ~
"Plummet five hundred feet to an almost
certain death on the stones" she snapped back. But a little thread of concern
was working its way into her mind. "No. Listen, Master Harailt...I can see the
battle, don't try and get me down just yet."
~ I'm too busy to rescue over-ambitious
noblewomen! ~ the mage shouted at her furiously. She wondered if that vein was
throbbing in his forehead like Neal had said it did when he got angry. ~ The
Queen ordered me to check on your health and since you are plainly fine,
despite having lost all of your mental faculties— ~
She cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear
the rest of the tirade as the hurrok went into a lethal plummet and her stomach
dropped away. Her voice was a near shriek. "Master Harailt, in the north-west
corner of the battlements, two hurroks and a gorgon have cornered a group of
the trainee Riders, they've run out of arrows..."
The hurrok pulled out of the lunge and Pip
sat forward so sharply she hit her head on its neck. The creature screamed, its
claws slashing dangerously close to her.
Finally it settled, and breathless, she
carried on. "The Queen's got trouble, a group of hurroks about to charge her,
but you've killed most of them, there's only about thirty left..."
~ I'll kill you when I get my hands on you, ~
Harailt muttered, but she could hear him calling out instructions to other
mages. ~ And so will the Queen. ~
"At least she'll be alive to," Pip retorted,
watching as green and yellow flares destroyed the group of hurroks.
The hurrok nearly threw her, and she
half-slid off, hanging a hundred feet above the battlements. She clung to its
mane, making the immortal yowl with pain. "I go, you go with me," she screamed
as she hauled herself back onto its back desperately. "If you want to get rid
of me that badly, just fly down to the damn walls and I'll *jump* off!"
She was surprised when it suddenly dropped
towards the walls, looming nearer and nearer until they were *feet* above the
grey stone.
Disbelieving, Pip slid from its back. "Thank
you," she said shakily.
The claws slashed towards her head and she
threw herself backwards, but it was far faster and it would surely—
An arrow sprouted between its eyes and with
one final cry, the creature fell backwards.
"*Phillippa*..." The Queen's voice told her
she was in for it. And as she turned and saw the hazel eyes simmering, and her
mouth pressed tight with rage, she wished she was anywhere else. "What. On.
Earth. Were. You. *Thinking*?"
"Not much," she said weakly.
A dry laugh interrupted them. It was the
Shang woman, with her hazel eyes darting with amusement. "You've the best
reflexes I've seen in a while," she remarked. "If you were common-born, I'd be
packing you off to study. Despite your age."
Pip flushed with pleasure. "Thank you," she
said, and added wistfully, "but I don't think I could do half of what you did."
Queen Thayet was giving her an unnervingly
keen glare. "Maybe it's time you did," she said thoughtfully. A wicked smile
began to curl up her mouth. "Yes...I think that would curb your ability to get
into such trouble. Eda?"
The Wildcat seemed to know what the Queen was
talking about, though Pip was completely clueless. "I think Hakuin and I can
manage an hour or two a day," she said cheerfully, looking Pip up and down.
"You're not quite strong enough yet...but we'll soon cure that, girl! Hakuin!"
A short, dark-haired man approached. "What is
it now, Eda?" he demanded cheerfully. A few scrapes adorned his face, but aside
from that, he was untouched. This had to be the Shang Horse that Neal had
pointed out to her once.
"This young lady just tamed a hurrok," the
Wildcat said. The Horse's dark eyes swung to her, his eyebrows arching into the
hanks of black hair that hung over his face. "She's fast, Hakuin, and fairly
strong. And this is the one our squires have been teaching – and learning –
moves."
She hadn't known the entire palace knew about
that. Pip wondered what other rumours were flying round the castle about her,
then put that thought away as too ridiculous to be even contemplated. Last
week, rumour had said that Prince Roald was in love with a peasant girl, and
that Neal and his best friend – that girl squire, Keladry – were a little more
than friends, which since the girl wasn't even in the palace, was patently
false.
"Are you betrothed, girl?" Hakuin said.
Thayet snorted.
"No, then," the Shang muttered. "Well...her
majesty would like us to begin teaching young noblewomen some of the basic
moves, to occupy their time."
Thayet absently restrung her bow, scanning
the sky for any further attacks. "I think my exact words were to stop them
running about like headless chickens when this sort of situation occurs. Do you
know, there's a good fifty young women cowering in the depths of the castle,
being no good to anyone."
"But the rest of us are doing a good job!" a
new voice said. Uline of Hasselhof approached, one arm in a sling and a bright
smile on her face. "Pippa, were you scared? I saw you on that hurrok and my
heart was in my mouth!"
Pip smiled at her brother's fiancé. "I didn't
have time to be terrified."
"You should make time," the Wildcat said
coolly. "Fear stops us acting rashly. Your scheme will be useful for the
over-adventurous as well as the under-adventurous, Thayet."
"What's this?" Uline looked from one face to
the other. "Your majesty, may I go along too? I'm sure Pippa would like the
company."
Thayet shook her dark head. "Uline, I
intended this as punishment for Phillippa. But you may certainly join the
Shangs for training once they have worked out a suitable routine with Lady ha
Minch."
As Pip looked at the wicked smile of Hakuin,
and the stern twinkle in the Wildcat's eyes, she knew this was going to be a
painful experience.
* * * *
The fire glowing
above Laird and Numair's heads lit their way as they crept from the shattered
remains of what Laird referred as the torture room, in her hushed voice.
"Where are the prisoners kept?" he asked,
giving the light-spell a little nudge to keep it floating ahead of them. "How
many are there?"
The woman beside him shivered. He noticed now
how pinched and gaunt her face was, as if she hadn't changed at all from that
skinny street girl he had first encountered years ago. A red robe covered her
physical scars, but her suffering stood out in her slanted black eyes.
"Three now," she said quietly. "Not including
myself. Your girl...she needs a healer, Arram. It tore her to pieces last time.
I'm powerful, but my magic is useless to heal. The other two – a boy named
Marcus. He was noble, afore it took him."
"What province?" Numair asked, racking his
brains to think of any nobles who had been kidnapped.
"Kennan."
Ah. He remembered now. It had been shortly
after he first came to Tortall: the child had been a horror, what Jonathan had
dryly described as Roger of Conte on something highly unlawful. He had stormed
off one day, and never returned.
"Marcus of Kennan?" he inquired.
"The same."
Well, he hoped the attitude had changed.
Laird took him down a long, twisting tunnel, and the tall mage cracked his head
on the ceiling several times, usually just after Laird told him to mind his
head. Finally, they came out into a long rectangular room.
Laird gasped, and he saw why at once. The
central door was open, and Numair hastily called a spell to mind, ready to
incinerate anyone who even thought about attacking him. "Who goes there?" he
shouted.
From in the dark deeps, he heard a
witheringly scathing voice. "Queen Thayet and her Court, who do you think?"
"Shut up, Joren," he heard another voice say,
and a face appeared. It was Cleon of Kennan, and he was rather pale. "Master
Salmalin? Sorry...Joren didn't know it was you. We found some prisoners..."
"Three?" Laird asked urgently, her black eyes
leaping.
The boy nodded.
She sighed in relief. "They're all save. Gods
be blessed." She clutched at Numair's arm. "Arram, the girl is in there. And
there's a child too, belonged to some gypsies that the Arachon...disposed of."
He nodded, thoroughly relieved. They had
found the girl...the boy was safe.
And so was the kingdom.
* * * *
See? Non-cliffhanger ending. I am capable of
them! :-) Anyway, your comments would be absolutely adored – please take a
moment to review, it's utterly worshipped! To all of ye facing SATs, exams, end
of year horrors, good luck!
Hanging On: Thanks
The awesome
Angelique Hallowed: Uh ::looks guilty:: I like cliffhangers. See, they give me
something to write next chapter. I know they're a devil, but some days, I get
in, and I'm just so frickin shattered that if I didn't have the cliffhangers,
I'd be lost on what to write. Especially the days where I walk home (about 3
miles down a motorway.) So it's evil…but...it's impossible for me to stop. I
should probably get help. Thank you!
The almighty
Anjel: Thank you for all the reviews! ::grins:: I'm totally delighted that you
like the story! It's just based on TP's books :-) I've probably smashed various
bits of plot to pieces somewhere (I'm sure I have some of the ages wrong, and
the descs...) Thanks!
The amazing
Aquilla: Thank you :-) I'll ask my page elf (she makes the page because I am an
Internet idiot) to put it up. I love the anime style drawing – and yours look
good to me! Food poisoning is so scuzzy… but I am over it :-) Thanks!
The avant-garde
Arturo: Or else *what*? Hmm? ::grins:: After my recent exams, my ego needs
boosting! (Dire is not the word…) Well, let's just say as this is but one of a
series, it's a case of relationships that pass in the night. Things change. And
some things stay the same. Pip finds someone more interesting than a cute
soldier :-) And that dragon is about 500 years too old for Kit (I mean c'mon,
age gap!) Thank you muchly!
The captivating
Cass: Thank you :-) I couldn't kill Ryan ~ I'm too attached to him! The dragon
will be fun (dragons fascinate me…I have a statue of one curled up in my room
that I got from a craft fair.) I'm going to try and stop with the cliffhangers.
It's getting to therapy point!
The cracking
Catchfire: Thank you highly! Unfortunately, waiting seems to be a big part of
reading anything I write (but hey, wait till summer – I have eight weeks
of freedom.) Thanks!
The ever-chirpy
Chip: Ryan and Kel :-) I have plans. (I have a few pages of the sequel done.
Gods, when I am I going to learn to stop after one story?) I'm working
on the more thing!
The definitive
Dead Flower: That Arachon is *gone*. ::grins:: I promise not to bring it back
if I get lazy. What Cleon sees – ah well, you know that one now! I'm trying to
write more – unfortunately, I'm in the middle of exams at the moment., and will
be till the end of July now. But then I have eight weeks of freedom!
The delightful
Diomede: Aish, has it really been that many reviews? (Well, the story's been
going six months) Thank you for reviewing :-) The story has been a bit rough
round the edges, I know, but it's shaking out. The sequel will be better.
::grins:: I hope you enjoy what you read! And please tell the folks who
recommended me thanks!
The delectable
Dreamgirl: Hiya! Thank you very much :-) I enjoy writing fanfic, and it fills
up the time waiting for Squire. And it's a great way not to do homework...I
will always write more, even it does take a little while! Thanks!
The fabulous Fei:
Three years? Hey, the longest I've ever taken for a story is...uh...this one,
actually. (Normally it's three months-ish) But I have been busy :-) This year's
exam chaos, but soon as summer comes, I'm going to sit down and get enough
written so I don't have this problem next year (assuming I'm still here then.)
Kel and Ryan surprised me. I wasn't expecting them to be a couple...wretched
characters, I swear, they're alive! :-) Thanks!
The glorious Gabs:
I'm a-writing as fast as I can…hopefully it hasn't taken me too long ot get
this part out. :-) I have about six stories on the go...it takes time! Everyone
should tell me how to write…all the help is muchly 'preciated! Thank you very
much!
The inspiring Ivy
Leaves: MI:2…or you could do an MI – through the lasers...oh, Tom Cruise ain't
all that! (Close, close, but he's no James Marsters.) Thank you so much, I
don't think I could not continue if I tried (writing is a drug, I swear it.
Second only to the all time great addictive- oxygen.)
The jazzy Jenn: I like cats :-) I have a
pair, and I swear, they have Faithful-stares. And dragons are always fun! (and
sweet.) Terrible and saintly – what a great sum-up for cliffhangers! Well, I
have tried not to end this part of one (and it was so difficult.)
Andrea/Ryan. I really can't say :;whistles innocently and twiddles thumbs::
Thank you!
The joyous Jinx:
Hey, don't apologise for not reviewing J I don't expect it! Good luck for your
permit test, I'm sending passing vibes your way! (Vibes to pass, not vibes that
pass by). David Eddings…I've seen his name somewhere...Waterstones! That's it!
I'll have to read him sometime. Eah, I don't know about getting chapters out
regularly... But they're still getting out! Cheers!
The kickass Kim: I
have to end the chapters somewhere! Sorry this took so long – my ******
teachers decided to land about eighteen mock exams on me. (Fun!) Thank you – if
you read it all today, whoa! That's a helluva lot of reading! Thanks!
The laconic Lady: Thanks! Hey, I don't care
how long the reviews are – you've still taken time and thought to write it.
Thank you muchly – I'm glad you liked it!
The lovely
Larzdinn ::horrified scream:: Oh my god! I'm so sorry! ::wince:: Xing must have
not sent me the review...ike, ::grovelling:: Very sorry. But thank you for your
review :-) Hanging on may not be 25 long – that was a max. I have the next
story, 'A Lady's Shield' started. So yes!
The luminous Leap:
Thank you muchly :-) I'm getting used to writing a different world (I've been
writing Nightworld fics for three years now, it's really difficult to break the
habit!), I'm glad it's working out!
The light-hearted
Leevee: There is more, there is, there is! I am working on it! I love dragons –
they're fabulous creatures (If you like dragons, Anne McCaffrey does a mean
line of books about them.) Cleon may be glad of Joren (may…). Thanks!
The laudable Lily:
Thank you :-) I always enjoy writing the story...TP has such a great world (how
she does it I will never know!) and it never stops surprising me that other
people enjoy it - thanks!
The marvellous Me:
I hate being sick. It just…bites. But I got over it J And shall stay well away from seafood for
a while (still, it tasted so good, it was almost worth the PV.) LOL! Thank you!
I am moreing...
The magnificent
Mel: Thank you muchly J I'm glad you like it – it's always a lot
of fun to write...I spend most of my weekend work thinking up what's going to
happen next. I don't about soon – but I'm trying!
The mystical Myst:
Thank you hugely for all the reviews! Aislamiento is a Spanish word,
meaning loneliness of isolation. It's one I've been meaning to write for ages.
I am trying my damnedest to keep the writing good, and try to make it better.
The characters are springing to life :-) Thanks!
The nirvanic
Naavi: I don't like to get too dark – this story got that way, much to my
surprise…hopefully it'll be a bit more light-hearted from now! ::grins:: I have
to write long chapters. I can't get enough story in in shorter ones! Thank you!
The natty Noelle:
Thank you highly! Yeah, I am alive, just festering in the rainy hell of
Britain, as it currently is. And don't eat food from burger vans either!
Mithros just strikes as being all-mighty...and all-annoying :-) And well...I
was seriously upset when Faithful died! I like messing about with the
relationships in the story J Keeps me entertained (and hopefully you
too!) Thank you!
The queenly
Quartz: It might be that Xing didn't send me your review ::frowns:;
Fraggit.::gets down on hands and knees:: I'm sorry about that! Please forgive
me for the sake of my carpet burns! I figure Joren and Cleon make an
interesting pair – they off-set each other nicely. You don't suck! I can kind
of see the point of short chapters – I mean, mine must take a while to read –
it just depends what you're writing. If I'd done this in short chapters, it'd
be up to about Ch 100 by now! I like the Roman view of the gods – that they
were just one big squabbling family. Hope you had a better day and gracias!
The supreme
Shannon: Heyla, ack, I hope school wasn't too bad! I go back tomorrow (though
it's like the 21/04 as I write this so I'll be back by now...) Thank you
muchly!
The sensational
Silver Mist Tigress: I just can't see Ryan being polite to anyone. It's not his
style :-) And Faithful's fun to write…cats are so cheeky (I have two of the
wretched creatures and they seem to think they're more important than me in the
house. Sadly, so do my parents!) Thanks!
The sparkling
Sparrow: I like the light-hearted stories…unfortunately, hey can't always be
that way, but it's always fun when they are! Hey, my lit teacher always gives
me good advice, so sounding like one isn't necessarily a bad thing! Ta!
The serendipitous
Sulia: Like a good stew, the plot thickens :-) Mind you, it's all starting to
shake out into place now! Ah, those hurroks :-) They're such a great creation.
Cute, yet lethal. Thank you muchly!
The terrific
Tatra: Occasionally I do kill characters off, but Ryan wasn't one of them J He
features too much. I had fun writing that bit with the dragon – it lightens
things up. Thanks!
The wicked Wazzup
Girl: Hiya! Oh, don't mention homework! I spent my holidays analysing 23 poems,
learning alllll about laminas, and trying desperately to figure out calculus!
Maybe I am trying to drive you crazy….but it's working, ain't it? ::grins:: I'm
going to try and cure my cliffhanger fetish. Enough is enough!
The resplendent
:o) :I will always post! It may take me a while to get round to it, but I
will! I really can't see Ryan as the
reverent type – after all, what have the gods ever done for him? Thanks!
Comments would be simply adored!
