Keladry: The Aftermath

*Alanna the Lioness*

A/N: I haven't posted anything in a while. Oh, well. This will be the first fic I've written for the year 2002. It might not be that good, though. I'm tired, I was bitched at yesterday (and I bitched back), and I'm just out of it.

What's up with this influx of these Alanna-goes-to-the-convent stories? I am SO sick of these. Don't you people REALIZE that if Alanna had chosen to be a lady, Jon and the rest of the royal family would be dead, and Roger would have the throne? That Thayet and Buri would probably never have escaped Sarain, and that women probably wouldn't hold the high office in Tortall that they did in the books after Alanna's escapade? And that Kel would probably have never let the notion into her mind to want to be a knight, and nothing would have ever changed?

And the plots are so OLD. Alanna's prettier than Delia and Cythera COMBINED. WOW! Gee. Just a reminder, people: Tamora probably made Alanna imperfect for a REASON. If Alanna had been a Mary Sue, I would have thrown it (the book) right down and not read any further. And the Sweating Sickness just disappeared. Jon would have died from it. Thom? Haha. The only thing Thom would have been worried about is that there was another sorcerer around more powerful than he was. I seriously doubt Thom would ever even had made friends with Jon and his circle. And Jon would have gotten the Sweating Sickness before Alanna ever came to the palace to seek a husband, if she went to the convent.

Anyway, I'm done ranting. Oh, yes. And give me reviews. I want at least 25 for this chapter before I write any further.

~

Sheets of rain poured down on the weary travelers. Shutters in the windows above in the ragged homes alongside the streets were slammed shut as the passers-by made their way up the street. The weather was perfect for the occasion: dark, dreary, and dismal. Thunder rumbled overhead.

A muscular young woman with light brown hair rode near the front of the procession. She appeared to be about 18, and carried a rather unusual shield: an owl soaring over two crossed golden glaives: the Mindelan crest. At the head of the party rode a big man and a blonde woman; both looking perhaps the most dismal of all. Gareth of Naxen and his wife, Cythera, had reason to grieve: the Elder Duke of Naxen had just recently died from his second heart attack. He was seventy years old.

Alongside the couple was a woman of about 38 or 39; as had been the case when she was a page, she about looked 5 years younger. Alanna the Lioness rode in silence, not looking anywhere but ahead. The other lady knight described previously, Keladry of Mindelan, did not even try to make conversation with the lady. It was plain that the three adults whom she rode near did not want to speak at all; just to remember. Kel knew that the Duke had been father to the younger Naxen and father-in-law to the Lady Cythera, and teacher to Lady Alanna; she'd heard much from Raoul, her former knight-master about the 'old generation''s days as pages.

A rather ugly dog with half of one of its ears missing that sat astride Kel's gelding's neck began to whimper mournfully.

"Hush," Kel told him quietly. "Be respectful, Jump."

The dog fell silent. The group of riders were now out of the streets, and were approaching the temple dedicated to Mithros, the sun lord. All that could be heard was the soft clapping of the horses' hooves on the ground below and the soft patter of the rain. Peachblossom, as if deciding things were a bit too quiet, leaned over and tried to nip Lady Alanna's mount, Swordfire. The golden, black-maned mare whickered at Peachblossom. The Lioness turned.

"Stop that," Kel warned him. "This isn't the time, or the place. Leave Swordfire alone." Peachblossom snorted, but made no further move. Lady Alanna jerked her head slightly, meaning that Kel should come up alongside her. Kel inched her horse up until it was level with Swordfire. After a while, Alanna spoke.

"It's odd, to have someone you've known almost your whole life leave you." She said softly. Kel looked up, her usually Yamani-smooth face filled with pity.

"I'm sorry about Duke Gareth, my lady. He was a good man."

"That he was," Alanna sighed. "More good than many people realized. He was always just there. Every time we pages got into trouble, he was always there to reprimand us." She looked at Kel. "I suppose we just started taking it for granted."

Kel was silent, unsure of what to say. After a while, the Lioness sighed again and looked at the ground. They were passing over the grassy meadow that would take them to the temple.

"Doesn't that make you feel ill, my lady?" Kel inquired, stunned that the Lioness could watch moving ground, but not moving water. Alanna raised her head.

"Hm? Oh. Neal told you." She didn't look surprised.

"Yes, lady," Kel replied. She almost grinned, but stopped herself just in time. This was no occasion for smiles. "He tells me a lot of things."

"I can imagine." Silence, then, "No, it doesn't. I guess it's because I've been riding horses all my life, and I just got used to it after a while." To Kel's surprise, Alanna grinned wryly. "I try to evade going on boats as much as I can."

Before she could stop herself, Kel chuckled softly. "I noticed you were never around when sailing was concerned."

The temple loomed up suddenly in the distance, and the gloom settled over the riders once again. Both women fell silent. Kel tried to recall what had happened.

Duke Gareth's personal servant dashed into the council room, gasping for breath. The King's most trusted advisors looked up, concerned, as the man tried to explain what he'd seen.

"Just…THERE! I walked in, my lords and lady, and I tried to awake my lord for his breakfast; you know he hadn't been feeling well-but he was so COLD, as cold as the tomb! And I felt for a pulse…there was none…"

Kel's eyes widened. She'd been invited to attend the meeting by the Lioness herself. How could the Duke of Naxen be dead?

Gareth of Naxen, the Younger, felt something squeeze in his chest. "My father……you…you can't possibly mean that he's-" he broke off as Alanna put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, milord." The servant bowed his head, glum. "I'm afraid it's true. Duke Gareth the Elder was stolen away in the dead of the night."

King Jonathan bowed his head mournfully. "May the Black God ease his passing."

A/N: The most puzzling question…is Duke Gareth REALLY dead? Mwahah. I love leaving people hanging like this. ^-^ I'm going to have a lot of fun with this fic. A few new characters, but none that really dominate, some dead ones (no, they don't come back), a sort of plague, battles, loss, romance, maybe a song or two, and…mwahaha. I'm going to stop now. All I can say is, this fic is going to be very fun to write. Very fun, indeed. 25 reviews, or I won't go any further. More is always better, though. ^-^

~'lanna

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