Not So Normal Chapter 3: Jinxed, a song of the lioness fanfic

Not So…Normal…
by Zenin

I awakened slowly.

My back was pressed against something warm and I was vaguely aware that I was on a horse. Someone had their arm wound around my waist to keep me from toppling to the ground. Despite that one kindness, I was still unbelievingly angry. And depressed. It was weird, how my emotions so quickly went from violent wrathfulness to despair.

Despair. "Who are you? Where are we going?"

A lovely red horse cantered up beside us. Faleron looked at me, still looking wonderfully attractive despite the smudges on his tatty tunic. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and smiled coldly at me. "Corus. To put you away."

"And fix his uniform," said an amused voice from behind me. I turned my head painfully and managed to catch a glimpse of orangey hair.

Anger. "To fix his blasted uniform? His uniform?" My voice rose an octave. "Is that all you care about? Your damned looks?"

"That uniform was made for me by someone special," Faleron retorted hotly, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. Mr. Fluffy Orange Hair snorted.

Despair. "Tell me, was it really necessary to hit me over the head?"

"For the sake of posterity, yes."

Anger. "Do people ever have dreams about axe-murdering you?"

Small chuckle. "I'm sure they do."

The rest of the journey was continued in silence…mostly because the next few phrases that had leapt from my mouth were a little strong, and dealt with just as strongly.

In other words, I was gagged.

We had travelled for about twenty miles or so when we finally reached our destination: a large, overly beautified city. The type of city that inspired most people to do impressive imitations of flycatchers. The type of city that made one want to gargle incoherently while pointing fingers and gaping at the awesome splendour. In fact, quite a few people were already doing that as we rode through the city gate.

The streets were thronged with mobbing Tortallan citizens. And when I say, "mobbing" I mean it literally. I mildly wondered if the Tortallan equivalent to Wal-Mart was having a liquidation sale or something. Whatever it was, it was big. People pressed on either side of our horses; humans big and small running gleefully through the crowd and pick-pocketing whatever they saw fit. Someone even tugged at the hem of my pants for a second, to which I promptly kicked out.

That was a huge mistake. Waves of pain-laced nausea rolled over me. Ripping the gag from my mouth, I leaned heavily over the side of the horse and — without second thought for the horse or rider — I vomited.

Mr. Fluffy Orange Hair cursed violently. His voice faded away as I blacked out, feeling a slight sense of embarrassment coupled with a stronger sense of accomplishment.

Serves you right.

_______________________________

I'll never forget what met my eyes when I finally came to. I was in a cold stone cell that was bare of any furnishings…with the exception of the hard cot I was lying upon. A barred window was slit into the wall, offering little light. Three lighted candles threw the dimensions of the room into an eerily twisted perspective. The one thing for which I could be grateful was the fact that I was not bound. That, strangely enough, really helped me keep my cool.

That is, until I caught glimpse of the creepy cloaked thing that was leaning against the wall. The hood of its cloak shadowed a face where piercing grey eyes stared intently at me, unblinking. I groaned.

Oh, I get it. I'm going to be sacrificed by some weirdo cult. And then they'll hang me upside down on the city's wall for disturbing the peace. And after that, a whole bunch of people will come by and say, "Jeepers, looky at that there! That done be some pore fella who done disturbed the peace agin..." Then Prince...erm...King Jon will start issuing out all these laws about peace-disturbing people—

My thoughts were interrupted just as I was picturing King Jon running around, pointing at everyone, and saying with wild abandon, "Off with his head! And her head! And his! And dammit, if I see another page wearing pink, fry 'em!"

As you could see, I was getting a bit carried away.

Anyways, the hooded person said nothing and simply glided out the door, slamming it shut as soon as he/she/it was safely out. I admit, for the next few seconds that followed, I became slightly hysterical.

Okay, not slightly. Quite hysterical. I mean, let's do a little math here, 'kay?

I get sucked into another world that I didn't even know existed. While being so unbecomingly sucked into this place, some Portal Person who lives way up in the sky messes with my head and I forget just about every scrap of martial art skills I had ever learned. Not to mention almost drowning in some river, mangling my leg, breaking my thumb, getting gagged, and then using up my reserve supply of stupidity trying to kick someone. And just when you think it's bad enough, I black out (again) and end up reviving in some dank cell where this cannibalistic thing rushes out the moment it sees that I'm awake; slamming the door and thus blowing out all the candles.

And now it's dark.

Sum it all up and you get this: I'm jinxed.

Again, my thoughts were interrupted. The door creaked open, admitting four people. They shuffled through the doorway and promptly began tripping all over themselves in the dark. Finally, an idea forced its way into their thick heads, just as someone (a girl, I think) opened their fat mouth.

"Gee, it's really dark in here."

As the valley girls are fond of saying: no duh. Imbeciles.

Silvery fire flew from someone's fingertips, lighting all the candles in the room and restoring the cell to its former cheeriness. I blinked, then glared at the group. There was good old Faleron, looking much more content in a new tunic of deep burgundy. Mr. Fluffy Orange Hair was also cleaned up, his tunic having been changed from the former yellow one to one of deep green. The hooded "it" thing was with them…and so was a blonde haired woman. Her pale eyes surveyed me as one delicate hand rested on the hilt of a slim dagger thrust into the sash that wrapped around her slender waist. Her gown was of the purest white accented by touches of pink.

I inwardly groaned. Pink. Not a good sign.

"Greetings," she whispered in a voice that, you had to admit, was wondrously beautiful. It was low and soft; soothing and mesmerising at the same time. Naturally, I hated it from the first melodious note.

I said nothing, not wanting to be rude. No, I wanted to be even more rude, and I was trying to conjure a fitting response to her bland salutation. Should I insult her king? Her escort? This gods-cursed country? How about her dress? Pink. My gosh…

"You need healing."

It occurred to me that she might not even comprehend my sarcastic comments. She was, quite frankly, a bit on the dull side. And besides, my grandfather had always cautioned me to never offend someone holding a knife. I sighed with frustration. Life could really — to borrow the colloquialism — suck sometimes.

"I don't know, Mary," said Faleron slowly. "She is, after all, under arrest. You're not supposed to go around healing a prisoner, for Goddess' sake."

The girl, Mary, stared at him vaguely. Her pretty brows pinched together in a delicate frown. "Oh, but I have healing magic."

"Mary Sue —"

The name struck me like a slap in the face. Mary Sue? That settles it. There is an evil Portal Person in the sky.

And he really does not like me.

_______________________________________________________________________________

I must admit, this story is, by far, the easiest one I have ever written. I mean, seriously. It's so much fun. Especially since it all began on a spur of the moment conversation with friends. Imagine, if you really did get sucked into Tortall. Things wouldn't always be so peachy, would they? There's a pre-determined fifty-fifty chance that you could get arrested, simply by wearing weird clothing. Oh yes. You'd be toast. ^_^

~Zenin