A/N: Snogs are here. If you don't like Sandry or Briar,
I'd suggest you just skip over this little piece of literature.
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Briar POV:
When I first saw her, I thought for sure that I might had died. There she was, tears streaming down her face, ashy-blonde hair completely down, looking even more fragile and weak then ever.
But Sandry was supposed to be dead. Yes, that Azakil said that she wasn't. But he also was a senile old man.
I stared blankly, not daring to believe. My sword had dropped limply in my arm, suddenly feeling very heavy. The guards were retreating now, ushering what looked like a hoard of equally skinny and fragile woman away. There were screams of sorts, men's voices shouting, a strong woman's voice giving orders. They all sounded dull and odd to my ears, though. Like a foreign language.
"Briar!"
Somebody sounded my name. Blinking, I suddenly snapped out of reverie. I looked oddly at my hands. Was I still alive?
"Briar!" A familiar voice yelled again before adding, "Over here, muddle-brain! Quit --let go of me!-- staring! I'm over --I said, let go!-- here!"
Glancing up snappily, I knew that voice from a mile away. My eyes fastened ahead of me, I quickly surveyed the scene in front of me. There was Sandry, for sure, holding tightly to the edge of stone wall. A much stronger man was trying to pull her away. However, she was giving up quite a fight. She was pumping her legs furiously at him, and while I watched, she promptly sunk her teeth into the man's knuckles. He howled with anguish.
And then, while I saw the tears gather in the man's eyes, I truly knew that it was Sandry.
A small, crooked, and evil grin suddenly grew on my face.
Running up the long corridor, I tried to find some kind of words in my mouth, but they all died and perished quite quickly on my tongue. All that I could think was that I wasn't dreaming and that I wasn't dead. And Sandry wasn't dead.
I quickly greeted the man with a swift punch in the chin. Sandry, quick on her feet, as usual, slammed an elbow up into his nose before squashing his toes with a quick stamp of her feet. The man crumpled to the ground, bloody-nosed, a surprised expression on his face.
Sandry stared at the man in shock, looking somewhat surprised at her own actions. Then, slowly, her gaze glanced back at me, her bright eyes staring at me measurably.
Seeing her then, I felt something catch in my throat, and something water in my eyes. It was a silly moment, and I would probably be embarrassed about it later on, but right then, I couldn't help it.
I felt a bit like an gushing dult.
However, I could see tears gather in her eyes too, but she blinked them away, her expression quickly changing to that of someone perturbed. "You're a bit late," She said tartly before crossing her arms across her chest, looking amused.
I smiled back at her crookedly. "Ain't my fault," I bit back before adding, "You know, this place isn't really on any Nidran maps. Took a wrong turn or something on Main Street." I gripped my sword tighter. For some reason, I didn't think the reception would be quite like this. But, I felt suddenly very at ease, as if all the previous feelings had been washed away to replace something simpler. Something like peace, comfort, and. . .happiness. "Plus," I added finally, "somebody didn't give very good directions."
Sandry arched an eyebrow before stating quickly, "Don't look at me. Must have been someone else." I rolled my eyes on that, but she simply chuckled. Then, our eyes met, her striking blue ones, gleaming dark in the torch light, half of her face illuminated by the fire. Her face looked thinner and longer than I remembered, but I didn't mind.
In fact, I couldn't remember a time in my life when she looked more beautiful. . .
I smiled crookedly at her, feeling very nervous all of sudden and yet very comfortable at the same time. She smiled briefly too, and suddenly her eyes watered. This time, she had no control of it, for quickly, a salty tear had escaped and was now running down her cheek.
Her chin trembled. "Oh, Briar!" She exclaimed before throwing her arms around my neck promptly, clasping tightly.
If it hadn't been a pleasant surprise, I would have felt the sure pain
of her knocking my adam's apple on my throat. That, and being lovingly
choked.
"I. . . I never thought I'd see you again," She sobbed, her face buried
in my chest. "I was sure that I was going to either rot down here
or die trying to escape. And. . . and, I was getting --what're the
right words?-- terribly tired of being alone? Yes, I suppose that's
the best way to describe. And, oh, you can't possibly understand
how lonely I was!"
I sucked my teeth. "Actually, I think I can. . ." I murmured quietly before I wrapped a hesitant hand around her waist. Her frail waist.
She didn't hear me, for she suddenly drew away before offering a watery smile. "And now, you're here. Really here." Her eyes suddenly glittered. "Scruffy and unkempt as usual." She drew up a shaky hand and pushed back a few pieces of stubborn hair that were always in my eyes.
Smiling crookedly, I glanced sideways before looking back at her. "Can't say much about you either, sweetheart." I caught her hands with one swift movement. My thumb and forefinger could fit around the entirety of her wrist. "What did they feed you down here?"
Suddenly, at my words, something dark passed over Sandry's face. She drew her hands back roughly, before pronouncing, "I don't wanna talk about it," her eyes watered angrily, "it's too painful."
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but was loudly interrupted by a pitch of screams and yells. My eyes quickly snapped back down the corridor, searching the dimly lit hallways. What greeted me didn't lift my spirits.
It looked like a dozen men were charging towards us, yielding swords, obviously better prepared for battle than the men I had met on the stairs. They were all dressed in white, and they looked somewhat perturbed that we had knocked one of their men unconscious.
I quickly let go of Sandry before holding my sword up a little higher. Glancing at Sandry from the corner of my eye, I asked uneasily, "Why don't they look happy to see us?"
"Because they're not," Sandry stated plainly. She was stiff, her head held high, looking like she was preparing for battle.
I examined the situation hurriedly. There were thirteen (fourteen, maybe) men running towards us, brandishing poorly made, but obviously pointy swords. Some of them looked like they had leather shields. They were also what looked like, from their red faces and glittering eyes, mad.
I looked at our party. A guy with a sword and a pair of simple breeches and a thin cotton shirt. A young woman who, although ticked, was in skirts (were they bright pink? I blinked at them) and had only her thin fists to fight.
It was then that I decided to run.
I grabbed Sandry by the wrist. "Come on, duchess. We're skipping this welcoming reception."
She remained stubbornly set on her ground, her jaw set stiffly. "I can take them."
Glancing quickly at advancing raid of men, I shook my head. "Doubt it." I pulled harder. "Do you have to plant your feet like that?"
I heard her give what sounded like a mix between a growl and sigh. Then, shaking her head slightly, she picked her skirts up, grumbling, "Lead the way, wonder boy."
"You mean, you don't know the way out?" I glanced at her sheepishly over my shoulder. I was hoping that she might have had some idea of where she was going when she had planned on escaping.
Sandry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there a stairway or something?"
We rounded a corner, hearing the stomps of the men gaining behind us. For skirts, Sandry was keeping a decent speed, and I was happy for that. If we didn't hurry, I was sure that they were coming close by the second.
I could see the turn where the staircase should be. With a burst of speed, I turned quick on my heel, risking a quick glance at Sandry to make sure she was keeping up. I saw her open her mouth, her eyes suddenly glittering in warning. Her words never came out.
Something hard and painful came in contact with my head. I could feel the skin on my skull tearing, and instantly, as soon as I opened my eyes, I knew that there was blood. Groaning, I heard somebody else make hard contact with that wall before letting out a uncharacteristic curse.
Looking to my right, I saw Sandry standing there, rubbing her wrist, obviously using her hands to brace herself in the impact. Her teeth were pursed and she was eying me angrily.
Taking a quick step back, I observed our situation. Where the stairs used to lead up into the freedom of the outdoors, there was now a solid wall. Glaring at the stony blockade, I cursed, first in Nidran, and then growling in Imperial, "What the hell?!" I turned back to Sandry, who was eying me still. I put my hands up defensively. "I swear there was stairs here just a few minutes ago."
She frowned but then took my hand. "Well, it not going to do us much good now." Nodding towards our attackers, she hurriedly rushed down a darkened corridor to our far left. "Hurry up, now."
Rolling my eyes at the sudden switch in command, I followed her, looking around the new hallway. Noting that it was darker and gloomier than the one we just exited, I asked loudly, "Any idea where we're going, your most glorious?"
"No clue."
"Well, that's reassuring," I bit in before we ran harder down the hallway. It suddenly curved to the right and I nearly skidded on the slippery floor as we made the turn. And then, on taking the turn, we saw a faint light. Something that looked like natural light. Setting sunlight.
I heard Sandry gasp before she ran faster, her small legs pumping faster than I had ever seen. "Briar," she panted, "there's an exit up ahead."
"Well noted, Duchess of The Obvious" I said, sarcasm laced through my words. She glanced back at me, her lips in a scowl. I offered her a crooked grin before grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her faster. "There gaining on us," I said in between breaths. It seemed as if the tiny space of an exit was getting farther away rather than closer.
We ran for what felt like hours, my muscles in my legs burning in agony. I felt Sandry give a little trip, but she quickly recovered, pumping her legs faster than ever.
"All right down there?" I asked over my shoulder, feeling a bead of sweat fall down my forehead.
"I'm fine," She declared before adding, "Don't worry about me either. You worry about getting yourself out of here."
"Hah! Don't think I went through all that trouble to come and rescue you and then hand you over to some red-faced wide-mouths, who wouldn't know a good sword if it slapped them over the head." I risked a quick glance at her over my shoulder before raising an eyebrow. "You know I'm too stubborn to just do that."
Sandry smiled sheepishly before she looked past me. I followed her gaze and saw that we were only about a hundred yards away from the exit. Barely making out the fuzzy details, I saw that the outside led to what looked like a small balcony. And from there, there was just stars and sky. Biting my lip, I realized that a balcony wasn't preferable to the exposure of the Nidran marketplace. However, as I observed our present state, it was better than a darkened corridor. At least, if worse came to worse, I could look my killer in the eye before I died.
We were ten feet away, then two, and then, we burst into the fresh open air. Oxygen filled my lungs, replacing the stale air that was contained in the stony corridors.
Looking quickly around my settings, I saw that we were indeed on a balcony of sorts. It outstretched for several hundred feet, laying over a cliff that dropped sharply towards the crashing ocean below. To the right and left of me there was a small walking platform that totally encompassed the extent of my vision.
Almost instantly, as soon as we stepped out on the platform, Sandry shrunk from me. I glanced down at her, eyebrows furrowed and confused.
She looked as if she was grimacing, and there was suddenly a terror-stricken look to her face. Tugging on my arm, she started to head in the direction of the men's shouts. "Let's leave, Briar. We can't be out here," She mumbled, sounding like she was frightened at some kind of strange phobic.
Staring at her as if she had lost her mind, I tugged back before saying sternly, "Are you crazy?!" I eyed her before pulling her further out in the balcony. "Come on, Sandry. Let's see how far the drop is. . ."
"It's far enough to kill," Sandry stated quickly and quietly. Her eyes were wide with fear and her breath seemed to catch in her chest.
And so it was. When he had reached the edge, and I looked down, it was almost dizzying how far away the crashing waves were. Blinking in astonishment, I pondered that if the fall itself didn't kill you, the smashing waves would either drown you or crash your skull against the mountains of rocks.
Gulping nosily, I felt a heavy tug on the sleeve of my shirt. Looking down, I glanced at the fragile and frightened figure of Sandry, who was glancing up at me with large, cloudy eyes.
"We. Can't. Stay. Here." She said, her words deliberately enunciated. Then, with great force, she started to tug me away from the balcony, towards our attackers.
Seeing her there, the very fact that she was even there, by my side, almost made me go with her blindly. But, suddenly my logic kicked in. Something almost pained me when I shook my head and then promptly grabbed Sandry around the waist, slinging her over my shoulder. She emitted a large scream, which I wasn't expecting, before she began, which I did expect, to flare her arms wildly, pounding her small fists against my back.
I winced as she slapped a good, strong hit in the middle of a vertebrae. "Ouch! Goddammit, Sandry, hold still! I gotta concentrate!"
Of course, she didn't listen. Of course.
Giving a quick look around my surroundings, I noticed that the opening, of which the attackers were soon going to enter, was overhung by some rather bushy looking ivy, which surprisingly had short thorns covering their branches. I looked from the ivy to the cave and then back at the ivy.
Inspiration struck.
Fluttering my eyes closed, and with Sandry still beating mercilessly against my back, I sent a mental image to the ivy. A mental image of it growing wild, over the entire balcony, except for the tips of the balcony. It quivered at the thought, but merely stirred. It decided to be stubborn. I then sent it a surge of energy before drawing it back, trying to bait it. It suddenly drew to me like a magnet.
A stem of it reached down and touched me lightly on the shoulder. I sent it the mental image again (ivy is a rather dull plant compared to other crawling vines) and it immediately took a compromise. My energy for its rapid growth. I agreed.
It began immediately, faster than I thought possible. The branch consumed the entire patch of the cave, thorns growing large and thick. I could feel my energy flowing like a stream of water, pouring into the capillaries, veins of the plant, filling it to overflowing. One of the men didn't see the rapid growth in time, for I heard an ear-piercing scream, the kind of scream that not only reaches your ears but digs itself into your very soul. A thorn had pierced this man's body. I am sure that he was dead before he could see what hit him.
The vine kept growing for awhile so that it was thick enough to rival a fortress of a castle. I could hear the war cries of the men trapped in the inside of the cave, but slowly, as the vine grew thicker, their cries became more muffled.
The sweat was beading on my forehead now. It was becoming painful now.
"Just a bit more. . . further," I said through gritted teeth before forcing my last bit of energy into the vine.
Suddenly, I felt a cool hand on mine, a surge of energy suddenly bursting from my skin into my veins like white-hot metallic liquid. I felt something like a honey thread flawlessly intertwining through my green energy, making me stronger, making the vine stronger. Peering through my eyes, I saw that the vine was weaving itself into an intricate pattern, causing any kind of attacker the assurance of a pricker or two by the massive thorns.
My head was spinning. I could feel the blood rushing from my head, could feel the warmth of black unconsciousness flooding into my brain. I stumbled, and the plant hesitated.
Suddenly, something that I hadn't heard in forever rang through my head. Briar, pull back now. I will take care of everything else.
It was Sandry, but softer, quieter than I had ever head her before. Something in her voice caused me both alarm and comfort.
I was still trying to get over the fact that she was alive. Hearing her voice in my being was whole other set of hurdles.
Slumping against the stone wall, I felt the tension pound in my skull. Groaning, I managed a peek out of my left eye. Sandry was still standing up, her eyes set purposefully ahead of me, concentration etched on her features.
The sun was setting now, sending iridescent colors of lavender and flurescant orange scattered about her face. Her hair was down, instead of piled in braids on the top of her head. She looked so mythical right then, I managed to stare at her for a long while, without noticing what I was doing. However, after what seemed like forever, she turned to look at me.
I could never, to this day, remember a time what her eyes looked more lavender and intense than in that one moment.
We held gazes for awhile before I breathed, "You have to tell me, Sandry. Tell me everything."
Something in her chin trembled before she tore her stare from my eyes, looking off to the horizon. Then, heaving in a large breath of air, she made her way over to me and sat next to me.
Sandry was very silent for a long while, looking off into the shockingly
orange clouds, before she started. "Two hundred years ago, Briar, the ancient
realm was abolished." She stopped here to pause, her lips pursed.
Something liquid was gathering in her eyes. "I thought it had died.
Was sure of it. But now I know that it isn't, and it took losing
Tris to figure that out."
I stared at the half of her face for a second, digesting what she said
before blinking. Ancient Realm? Tris, lost? There were
too many questions floating aimlessly in my brain. Therefore, I managed
to gurgle, "Um. . ."
Sandry looked at me, arching an eyebrow. Her eyes were watery but I could see her lips were lifted in a crease of amusement.
I suddenly felt extremely intelligent at my obviously educated answer. Wincing at my own actions, I started again, "A few questions, Duchess. First off, ancient realm?"
She seem to think this one over, chewing the inside of her cheek. Then, slowly, "The Blaze of Gabriella, Briar. The ancient absolutism government that ruled only two hundred years ago. You must understand that The Blaze has been around for thousands of years, but has only been abolished recently in history, really." She wasn't looking at me while she said this, but simply blanking in the sky, as if she was reading it off a invisible sheet of paper. "The Blaze consisted of an organization of priests and priestesses, who ruled fiefs of land, given to them by Her Gabriella."
I interjected at this point, even though I was in a daze. "Her Gabriella?"
Sandry looked at me side ways. "The absolute ruler of the day. Her Gabriella was the demi-goddess sent to earth by the goddess Lerial to rule the lands. Her Gabriella was always right, almost just. Even when she sent thousands to their death because they opposed her. Men, woman, children; it didn't matter." There was a sneer on her lips now, like a stirring anger in the pit of her stomach had risen to show presence on her face.
My mouth was slightly agape at this point. I simply stared dumbly at Sandry, who caught my stare and sighed.
"Yes I know. You're going to ask how Her Gabriella got overthrown
and what this has to do with Tris. Right?" She was making his
sound tiresome.
I merely squeaked my answer.
"There was man named Sanders of Lucania. He changed everything. There was the theory among the priests and priestesses that magic was a learned thing and that is was only given to priests and priestesses that prayed and dedicated their lives to the goddess Lerial. Sanders disagreed. He said that magic came naturally, a person was born with it, and it could not be learned. The priests and priestesses didn't like this, and they had many people killed. Sanders killed many priests and priestesses in order to accomplish his goal of establishing a new order. Sanders won by the bitter sacrifice of someone he loved dearly. And this is what he accomplished. The noble system, so much better." Sandry stopped here with a hint of bitterness in her voice.
But I was hardly looking at her, even though my gaze was piercing into the side of her face. I was still trying to fully understand what she was telling me. There had been an ancient order, in which people were killed mercilessly, were magic was restricted, and were there was a cruel queen, or some kind of demi-goddess-shit of the sorts.
I blinked. "Why don't I know about this?"
Sandry shook her head sorrowfully. "The nobles are stupid, that's why. It's been a story passed through the noble lines for generations through a book called 'Blaze and Force'. It's only taught to nobles supposedly to protect the 'common people.'"
I blinked again. "What about Tris?"
"She's the tiend."
Suddenly blinking about of my faze, I glared at Sandry, suddenly feeling very angry. There was an entire history that I had never heard, but was supposedly involved in, there was Tris missing, I hadn't the foggiest whether Daja was alive or not, and Sandry was well. . . frustrating me in too many ways to count.
"Oh right, the tiend," I replied sarcastically, rolling me eyes, "forgot about that one. Oh wait, I wouldn't know about it since I'm too stupid to ingest information about an ANCIENT CULT THAT ONCE RULED THIS WORLD!" My voice rose during the interval of my speech so that my words echoed off the stony cliffs.
Sandry hardly grimaced at my tone though. Instead, she turned and faced me, looking me deeply in the eyes. Something was so painfully beautiful in her face, that it made me want to swallow all my words and then puke them up. Tears swam in her eyes before she said, shaking, "The Tiend in the human sacrifice that they perform every twelve years, Briar. They do it to appease Lirial."
I watched in dumb amazement as a tear cascaded down her cheek, and I simply swallowed thickly. The tiend was human sacrifice.
Tris was their human sacrifice.
Suddenly a current of panic shook through my body, and I ran a nervous hand through my hair. "No," I said quickly before looking at Sandry, who was trying to swallow her sobs, "No, that can't be. . ."
"They use it also to bring the Her Gabriella a child. They usually want a noble male, head-strong, handsome, healthy. This male will," she gulped awkwardly, "mate with Lirial and their child will impregnate Her Gabriella, giving The Blaze a new heir to the throne."
I heard all this as if I was underwater. I was pacing now, listening to Sandry as if she was a hundred miles away. Thoughts were churning in my head mercilessly. I looked at my feet, at my hands, at my sword. . .
Stopping, I stared intently at my sword before asking slowly, "Sandry, does this book that the nobles read. . . "
"Blaze and Force," Sandry interjected, but I carelessly went onward.
". . .Right, 'Blaze and Force', does it say anything about this cult being finally overthrown eventually?"
There was a period of thoughtful silence. Finally, Sandry said, "Yes."
"What does it say?" I stared at her underneath my hair, which was always in my eyes.
Sandry was sitting meekly against the stone wall. Her hair was blowing slightly in the breeze that rose from the ocean crashing below. Her face was still glowing in the fluorescent sunset, her eyes glowing. We stared at each other for a long while, something like a silent argument between us. Sandry didn't want to tell me. I wanted her to.
I won eventually. She looked me straight in the eye before saying
in a sing-song voice:
"Dreams, though dreams they not be:
He will come with sword and iron fist,
To set his only Lady Love home and free,
making through the cliff and mist.
He shall be called by the rose thorn,
handsome, courageous, and brave,
and between two loves he will be torn,
but he will conquer by the grave."
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I reeled back from shock, and she suddenly realized what she had done.
She quickly got up from her feet and was holding my arm, shaking it profusely, "This is not your destiny, Briar." She was shaking now, suddenly looking very anxious. She knew what was in my mind. Looking up at me, she stuttered, "There has to another way."
I looked down at her, her pale thin figure staring down at me. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Would they accept a young headstrong male if it was presented to them in exchange for Tris?"
Sandry simply whimpered before saying, "Briar, this isn't what you were made for. Listen to me. . . dammit," her voice stuttered on this forbidden word, her body shaking now.
I finally stared at Sandry. I really stared this time. Her eyes were watery and brimming with tears; no, she was crying now, hot tears pouring now her pale cheeks. Her body was frail, skinnier than ever, and her nose was small and rounded, instead of hooked a proud like so many other noble's. She wasn't what I had always thought I wanted.
But her hair was soft and down, and I suddenly had an incredible urge to touch it.
And I did.
Reaching out, I touched her face softly, with the back of my hand, feeling her smooth skin glide gracefully over my touch. She suddenly stopped her desperate pleading for a second, looking at me with confused eyes.
She blinked at me, before whispering, barely audible, "Briar?"
I knew that now I could pull away and chuckle awkwardly. Could pretend that nothing could happen. I knew that I could choose another path now. I could choose to wait for Daja to come with help, kill this Her Bitch-ess, get Tris and keep everything the same.
I had the chance to tip-toe back over the line undrawn, the "comfortable area."
But I couldn't take it anymore. I had spent too much energy denying it, too much time shaking my head and blaming it on a "typical male attitude". I was, quite frankly, sick of myself. I was sick of telling myself that I was a stupid idiot everytime I felt the tiniest bit of an attraction to Sandry. I was tired of chuckling awkwardly when the intensity in our gazes crossed something that was definitely not platonic. I was sick of denying to myself that I could fall in love my best friend, a friend I had always told myself was my "foster sister".
Oh yes, five points if you could say it convincingly, ten points in you could say it so convincingly, you believed it yourself.
"What do you think I should do?" I asked, as I ran my calloused finger through her silky hair. I watched her, a bit of amusement in my eyes, and yet I asked it with all seriousness.
Sandry was simply looking at me as if she was waking up for the first time. She made a somewhat pitiful gurgling noise in her throat.
Then, giving her a smirk, I said quietly, as if their might be some eavesdroppers, "I'm thinking I should kiss you now."
Blinking, I could tell Sandry wanted to get her stab in. She tried a watery smirk before she managed, "I think that might be a good--"
I cut her off here, pressing my lips hard against hers. Something like a electric current from my lips to the middle of my abdomen. She tasted something like milk and honey, the stuff that she had poured so eagerly into my oatmeal the first breakfast we ate together. Lightning prickled on my skin, cool and white-hot at the same time.
Her lips were soft like I imagined they would be, and even though I'm sure I bruised them already, I pressed harder, and I heard her groan quietly.
I had kissed other girls before. I felt the ripple that stirred within you, but that seemed pitiful and meaningless compared to this.
In the kiss, I felt the meaning of mercy, the strange paranoid, the beauty, my absolute gravity within this kiss.
As I heard the waves crash outside, I kissed her harder, running my hands through her hair. I kept telling myself that I stark mad. That I had for sure stepped over the line of sanity.
But for once I didn't care. I felt liberated and free.
My sword lay scattered on the ground, my name still glowing. I ignored it for now though. What tomorrow brought, it would bring.
Right now, it was me, Sandry, and the waves below.
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HULLO EVERYONE! I better not type in caps because everyone is already pissed off at me. Several months for an update isn't a nice thing to do, I know, and I apologize profusely. Blame my busy life and writer's block. The wonderful thing about this story is that it's almost completed. Well, sorta. Like three more chapters. WOOHOO!!!
Anyways, Sandry and Briar kissed. Finally. Good god, about high time. Don't you agree?
If you agree, it would be wonderful if you pressed a little button that says something along the lines of "review". I know you want to. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. . .