Disclaimer: Nip. I dun own it.
I've decided to do a quick summary as to what's happening. Basically, (as you know) Alanna went to the convent. But in the whole general scheme of things she was SUPPOSED to go to go to the palace. So there's sort of two time lines running, one where she's at the palace, and one where she's at the convent. Like parallel universes. But the two are sort of overlapping, in the form of Alanna's 'flashes' (eg, when she looked in the mirror in chap 1, she saw herself in the other world, just after Maude had cut her hair) and things like Alan the Ghost (understandably, it's happening worse to Alanna). The two universes can't exist at the same time. Anyone see a problem there?
Okay, on to the story!
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
Jon snuggled down further into the soft armchair. This was the fourth hour of his vigil beside his mothers sick bed, not counting the time he sat here yesterday, and the day before. He had been here since the death of his friend Francis, and he felt guilty. He hadn't been with Francis, not until his passing. He didn't want to make that mistake with his mother too. She was finally starting to show some form of improvement, and it looked like the fever had almost passed from the city. Fewer were falling ill, and those who were ill healed sooner.
The door opened, and Duke Barid entered. He looked tired, but better than when Jon had last seen him. "Your Highness? Your still here?" Jon nodded without speaking. "I think you should take a break. Go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. I'll sed someone straight away if there's any change."
Jon smiled gratefully. "Thankyou, Your Grace."
Once outside, Jon shivered. It was much colder out here than in the sick room. He shivered again, and started to head down to the kitchen.
He didn't feel like talking to anyone, so he made sure he took a route not used by many. He was breathing much harder than usual, and something got caught in his throat. He coughed to try and clear it, but it wouldn't budge. (A/N Don't you just hate that feeling?) He coughed again, and again, and found he couldn't stop. He was coughing for a good minute before he got himself under control again. Blaming it on the dustiness of these unused passages, he continued on.
Jon had only walked another 100m when dizziness overtook him and he collapsed.
~~**~~**~~
"Gohvy, did Prince Jonathon come down here?" Duke Barid asked the cook. "I sent him down to get something to eat, but he should have been back by now."
"No, I haven't seen him all day. Check with the other servants though. Maybe they gave him something. He might have gone too see his friends after that. Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine." Gohvy assured Barid.
But none of the others had seen Jon either. Barid was just about to check Gohvy's other theory when Timon found him.
"Your Grace!" cried Timon, "His Grace the Duke of Naxen found Prince Jonathon, collapsed in a back corridor. He sent me to find you immediately, and carried him to his room. We fear it's the fever."
Duke Barid turned dead white, and ran for the pages wing.
**~~**~~**
Alanna was sitting in her room, starting a letter to Thom. She planed to ask him what was happening in the city, but she had to sound casual about it. It could be nothing, but since early March, she had been having visions, flashes, even more so than usual. She couldn't explain them, no one could. But since that time they had all been about the same thing. A sickness of some form, in the city and the Royal Palace. Many who she felt she knew had become ill, and many had died as well.
She sighed, and dipped her pen into the ink pot. Just then, the door opened and in came two men, Coram, and another she did not know the name of. As Coram was at the palace with her brother, she assumed this was one of those vision things that had plagued her since her arrival at the Convent.
"Alan," called the one Alanna didn't know.
Coram's voice was gentle. "Th' prince took sick last night. He's callin' for ye."
"How is he?" she asked
"Bad."
~~*~~*~~
It was a few hours latter, in the needlework room, when it happened. Alanna had been feeling faint and worn out all afternoon, ever since the visit from Coram.
The needlework room was large, with comfortable armchairs spread before the large open fire. Alanna had chosen an out of the way chair near the burning logs. She was struggling with a particularly difficult stich, when something /pulled/ at her Gift.
Alanna looked up from the cloth to see the air directly in front of her glitter with a dim purple light that steadily grew brighter, signs she recognised as the beginnings of a large spell, the kind that is just pulled out of thin air. Such magical workings were dangerous, and costly the person who cast them. Her nose itched, as it often did when she first called upon her magic. The only problem was, she HADN'T called on her Gift. Not at all.
Ignoring Alanna's mental protests, her magic continued to flow from her body, filling the flames of the fire and turning them a deep amethyst. Her body got up and walked to the fire, following the magical stream that was still flowing from her, and leaving all sensible thought behind her. It was replaced by a sudden urgency, and a terrible fear for someone called Jonathon. The tiny part of her brain that was still thinking rationally could think of no sensible reason for doing what she did next. Not even a reason that didn't make sense. All she knew was that the next step was to put her hands into the fire, as Maude had done when she tried to See in the fire for Alanna and Thom, in what seemed like another lifetime. The rational part of her brain DID however realize that had never happened in her lifetime.
The watching girls gasped as they realized what was happening at the fire. Alanna was filling with purple fire. It flowed into her skin, cramming into every little corner of space until she glowed from within with a sparkling violet light. Alanna screamed in pain, trying to vent some of the energy building up inside her.
Alanna pulled away from the hold of the fire, and the light dimmed slightly. None of the girls or women could risk going near her though; they instinctively knew it would be fatal.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Courtiers and priests of the Dark God crowded Jonathon's room. The air was heavy with incense and filled with chants and prayers for the dying. Jonathon himself lay in his bed, crying out as his dreams attacked him. He was calling for a person named Alan, desperation in his thin voice.
It was by sheer luck that no one was injured in what came next. Coincidence that no one was standing by the fire at that moment. All of a sudden, there was a white hot flare of purple light, jumping from the flames, growing in strength as it moved toward the Prince. A fiery hand extended from the depths of the light, reaching out toward him and taking his hand.
"Jonathon," called a voice, a woman's voice speaking from eternities away. "It's time to come home. Jon."
The fire began to flow into Jonathon as well, filling both the prince and the form next to him.
~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~
Alanna was drifting in a dark place, a well, and all around her she heard the cries of doomed souls. Some how, she knew where this was. It was the Edge, the place between Life and Death.
Far below her, near the bottom, was a boy. He was far gone, all life about to leave him.
Although she didn't know him, a sudden anger welled up inside her. She dove down into the shadowy depths to try to get to him. She reached out her hand, but he was too far away.
'NO!' she thought fiercely. 'I wont let them take him!'
But as she watched, stretching toward him, she felt something snap. She felt it inside her, rather than physically, and the boy at the bottom of the well faded away into nothingness.
Without warning, the hold the magic had taken on her released itself and she fell back into the needlework room.
She tottered, unsteady on her feat for a moment. In a voice that quavered with fear and exhaustion, she whispered more to herself than to those around her. "He's gone. Jonathon is gone." And with that she collapsed into a dead faint.
***~***~***~***
A/N: Wow. That chapter was long. 5 pages! It's probably my favourite so far. Not that I hate Jon or anything, but that was really cool. What did you guys think?
Thanx to:
Lady Arianna: Wow thanks! And you sorta had the right idea.
bblonde07: :D
hoppuschick182: Okay.
Lady Katharine Heartspark: I wouldn't call Search for the Six a "futile attempt". I like it. But then, my 30 something reviews told you that already. He he.
PixiePrincess: I like being confuzeld. :)
Devilkitti8: I know, but this thing doesn't write itself, so I have to make the time.
Xelena: I think it's going to end before she gets to the palace, but I'm not sure yet.
Maria: Guess what? If u add a t and a n to your name, u get my name!!!
Black Rose: Thickening like cream!
(lia): Thanks!
Wigstar: :D:D
Now I have just two more things to do. First one, if you read my A/N's, please include the word Adaminaby in you review. It's a thing that I got from RoseFyre to see how many people actually read authors notes. If you don't know what Adaminaby is, and want to, you'll have to read next time, and I'll tell you then! If you want to find out yourself, here's a hint: find a very large atlas.
The next and last thing is an advertisement. The Path of Hope has officially died of Plot Cancer, and Anita can't think of any way to revive it. But it IS a very good idea with a great opening. We'd like someone to take over writing it. It's about Kel, if she said no to probation and returned to the Yamani Islands with her parents. There's also a plot against the Yamani Tortallan alliance and a Roger wannabe. It also comes with six and a bit chapters (not posted on ff) that you can re do if you want. If your interested, please say so in your review, and we'll send you a copy via e-mail. But please DON"T START RIGHT AWAY!!! We want to look at your work first. If your still interested after you've read it, e-mail us and then we'll choose someone based on your other work. We'll have chosen someone by December 1.
~Toodles!
I've decided to do a quick summary as to what's happening. Basically, (as you know) Alanna went to the convent. But in the whole general scheme of things she was SUPPOSED to go to go to the palace. So there's sort of two time lines running, one where she's at the palace, and one where she's at the convent. Like parallel universes. But the two are sort of overlapping, in the form of Alanna's 'flashes' (eg, when she looked in the mirror in chap 1, she saw herself in the other world, just after Maude had cut her hair) and things like Alan the Ghost (understandably, it's happening worse to Alanna). The two universes can't exist at the same time. Anyone see a problem there?
Okay, on to the story!
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
Jon snuggled down further into the soft armchair. This was the fourth hour of his vigil beside his mothers sick bed, not counting the time he sat here yesterday, and the day before. He had been here since the death of his friend Francis, and he felt guilty. He hadn't been with Francis, not until his passing. He didn't want to make that mistake with his mother too. She was finally starting to show some form of improvement, and it looked like the fever had almost passed from the city. Fewer were falling ill, and those who were ill healed sooner.
The door opened, and Duke Barid entered. He looked tired, but better than when Jon had last seen him. "Your Highness? Your still here?" Jon nodded without speaking. "I think you should take a break. Go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. I'll sed someone straight away if there's any change."
Jon smiled gratefully. "Thankyou, Your Grace."
Once outside, Jon shivered. It was much colder out here than in the sick room. He shivered again, and started to head down to the kitchen.
He didn't feel like talking to anyone, so he made sure he took a route not used by many. He was breathing much harder than usual, and something got caught in his throat. He coughed to try and clear it, but it wouldn't budge. (A/N Don't you just hate that feeling?) He coughed again, and again, and found he couldn't stop. He was coughing for a good minute before he got himself under control again. Blaming it on the dustiness of these unused passages, he continued on.
Jon had only walked another 100m when dizziness overtook him and he collapsed.
~~**~~**~~
"Gohvy, did Prince Jonathon come down here?" Duke Barid asked the cook. "I sent him down to get something to eat, but he should have been back by now."
"No, I haven't seen him all day. Check with the other servants though. Maybe they gave him something. He might have gone too see his friends after that. Don't worry, I'm sure he's fine." Gohvy assured Barid.
But none of the others had seen Jon either. Barid was just about to check Gohvy's other theory when Timon found him.
"Your Grace!" cried Timon, "His Grace the Duke of Naxen found Prince Jonathon, collapsed in a back corridor. He sent me to find you immediately, and carried him to his room. We fear it's the fever."
Duke Barid turned dead white, and ran for the pages wing.
**~~**~~**
Alanna was sitting in her room, starting a letter to Thom. She planed to ask him what was happening in the city, but she had to sound casual about it. It could be nothing, but since early March, she had been having visions, flashes, even more so than usual. She couldn't explain them, no one could. But since that time they had all been about the same thing. A sickness of some form, in the city and the Royal Palace. Many who she felt she knew had become ill, and many had died as well.
She sighed, and dipped her pen into the ink pot. Just then, the door opened and in came two men, Coram, and another she did not know the name of. As Coram was at the palace with her brother, she assumed this was one of those vision things that had plagued her since her arrival at the Convent.
"Alan," called the one Alanna didn't know.
Coram's voice was gentle. "Th' prince took sick last night. He's callin' for ye."
"How is he?" she asked
"Bad."
~~*~~*~~
It was a few hours latter, in the needlework room, when it happened. Alanna had been feeling faint and worn out all afternoon, ever since the visit from Coram.
The needlework room was large, with comfortable armchairs spread before the large open fire. Alanna had chosen an out of the way chair near the burning logs. She was struggling with a particularly difficult stich, when something /pulled/ at her Gift.
Alanna looked up from the cloth to see the air directly in front of her glitter with a dim purple light that steadily grew brighter, signs she recognised as the beginnings of a large spell, the kind that is just pulled out of thin air. Such magical workings were dangerous, and costly the person who cast them. Her nose itched, as it often did when she first called upon her magic. The only problem was, she HADN'T called on her Gift. Not at all.
Ignoring Alanna's mental protests, her magic continued to flow from her body, filling the flames of the fire and turning them a deep amethyst. Her body got up and walked to the fire, following the magical stream that was still flowing from her, and leaving all sensible thought behind her. It was replaced by a sudden urgency, and a terrible fear for someone called Jonathon. The tiny part of her brain that was still thinking rationally could think of no sensible reason for doing what she did next. Not even a reason that didn't make sense. All she knew was that the next step was to put her hands into the fire, as Maude had done when she tried to See in the fire for Alanna and Thom, in what seemed like another lifetime. The rational part of her brain DID however realize that had never happened in her lifetime.
The watching girls gasped as they realized what was happening at the fire. Alanna was filling with purple fire. It flowed into her skin, cramming into every little corner of space until she glowed from within with a sparkling violet light. Alanna screamed in pain, trying to vent some of the energy building up inside her.
Alanna pulled away from the hold of the fire, and the light dimmed slightly. None of the girls or women could risk going near her though; they instinctively knew it would be fatal.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Courtiers and priests of the Dark God crowded Jonathon's room. The air was heavy with incense and filled with chants and prayers for the dying. Jonathon himself lay in his bed, crying out as his dreams attacked him. He was calling for a person named Alan, desperation in his thin voice.
It was by sheer luck that no one was injured in what came next. Coincidence that no one was standing by the fire at that moment. All of a sudden, there was a white hot flare of purple light, jumping from the flames, growing in strength as it moved toward the Prince. A fiery hand extended from the depths of the light, reaching out toward him and taking his hand.
"Jonathon," called a voice, a woman's voice speaking from eternities away. "It's time to come home. Jon."
The fire began to flow into Jonathon as well, filling both the prince and the form next to him.
~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~
Alanna was drifting in a dark place, a well, and all around her she heard the cries of doomed souls. Some how, she knew where this was. It was the Edge, the place between Life and Death.
Far below her, near the bottom, was a boy. He was far gone, all life about to leave him.
Although she didn't know him, a sudden anger welled up inside her. She dove down into the shadowy depths to try to get to him. She reached out her hand, but he was too far away.
'NO!' she thought fiercely. 'I wont let them take him!'
But as she watched, stretching toward him, she felt something snap. She felt it inside her, rather than physically, and the boy at the bottom of the well faded away into nothingness.
Without warning, the hold the magic had taken on her released itself and she fell back into the needlework room.
She tottered, unsteady on her feat for a moment. In a voice that quavered with fear and exhaustion, she whispered more to herself than to those around her. "He's gone. Jonathon is gone." And with that she collapsed into a dead faint.
***~***~***~***
A/N: Wow. That chapter was long. 5 pages! It's probably my favourite so far. Not that I hate Jon or anything, but that was really cool. What did you guys think?
Thanx to:
Lady Arianna: Wow thanks! And you sorta had the right idea.
bblonde07: :D
hoppuschick182: Okay.
Lady Katharine Heartspark: I wouldn't call Search for the Six a "futile attempt". I like it. But then, my 30 something reviews told you that already. He he.
PixiePrincess: I like being confuzeld. :)
Devilkitti8: I know, but this thing doesn't write itself, so I have to make the time.
Xelena: I think it's going to end before she gets to the palace, but I'm not sure yet.
Maria: Guess what? If u add a t and a n to your name, u get my name!!!
Black Rose: Thickening like cream!
(lia): Thanks!
Wigstar: :D:D
Now I have just two more things to do. First one, if you read my A/N's, please include the word Adaminaby in you review. It's a thing that I got from RoseFyre to see how many people actually read authors notes. If you don't know what Adaminaby is, and want to, you'll have to read next time, and I'll tell you then! If you want to find out yourself, here's a hint: find a very large atlas.
The next and last thing is an advertisement. The Path of Hope has officially died of Plot Cancer, and Anita can't think of any way to revive it. But it IS a very good idea with a great opening. We'd like someone to take over writing it. It's about Kel, if she said no to probation and returned to the Yamani Islands with her parents. There's also a plot against the Yamani Tortallan alliance and a Roger wannabe. It also comes with six and a bit chapters (not posted on ff) that you can re do if you want. If your interested, please say so in your review, and we'll send you a copy via e-mail. But please DON"T START RIGHT AWAY!!! We want to look at your work first. If your still interested after you've read it, e-mail us and then we'll choose someone based on your other work. We'll have chosen someone by December 1.
~Toodles!