A/N I hope that everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving of eating, riding snowmobiles, and playing shoot them up games in the mall after watching a movie, oh ya and maybe giving thanks for something. I'm sorry this chappie isn't too long, but it brings Jasson back in (I've left him behind for a while). Please read review and I hope Enjoy.
MagixPawn: The Gary and Raoul thing was subtle. This was the first place I put them in the story. They died in the Antithean Wars. I didn't really spell it out though.
Exrooooommmiiieee!!!: I'm almost done with the web page. I hope Thankgiving break went well for you (you have one more day damn you).
M'cha: **gach** you're choking me. Here's the next chappie. Am I less evil now?
Cytosine: I'm glad you like the plot, and think that it is original. Those are the best types of complements. I hope that this is semi fast updating.
Jarka Ruus: The Dominion Jewel caused Gary and Raoul's death because it caused the Antithean war. I don't think that many people caught that, I was very subtle with that plot point.
Eve of Mirkwood: Here is another rosy chapter (heh).
Keziah: I'm glad the doctors saved you, I would feel guilty if I caused your death. Was that a bad Cliffie? I just like writing them. I know I'm evil. It is going to be hard for Zira to be a knight of Tortall and the Queen of Antitheos, but the main problem is that there is no Antitheos, Tortall owns it.
Dragonwing5: I'm glad you like it.
LIIIILLLLLLYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!: YOU'RE BACK!!!! **Happy dance** I love your stories and I love your reviews you always pick out the things I want people to notice. I'm glad you liked the garden scene you have no idea how hard it is for me to write romance. Zira and Shae are16, Jasson's just turned 17, and Falkin, Liam and Tobit are 19 or 20. I'm glad you're back!
Chapter XXIV: Anger Towards Love
Jasson's practice sword hit the wooden dummy, splintering the wood. He had been avoiding Zira since the ball. He knew that it was childish, and petty, but the kiss kept flashing through his mind. His sword hit the dummy rattling the pole that it was hung from. He should have been on the other side of that kiss. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He wanted to get away, but he was a squire; he couldn't leave without the permission of his knight-master, his brother Roald. Roald was content in the palace with his wife and children. He didn't want adventures. They weren't going anywhere soon. He looked down at the dull practice sword, it was dented and curved from the blows he had dealt with it. He laughed. It was absurd. He threw the sword aside and began to laugh harder, and harder. Then from the laughter tears formed and he bowed his head, and cried.
"Jasson?" Zira's voice broke into his reverie. He looked up into worried amber eyes. "Your mother said I could find you here. I haven't seen you" she broke off. "Why have you been avoiding me?" she demanded, annoyed.
"Do you love him?" he asked, hazel eyes met amber. Zira stepped back.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you love him?" Jasson stepped towards her. The intensity in his eyes actually frightened her.
"Yes, I do." She saw him deflate. "But, Jasson, you knew I did. Why does my loving him have to change anything between us? It doesn't mean that I love you less." He turned away from her.
"It doesn't mean you love me more either." Zira looked at him in despair. When he turned back around she was gone. He cursed himself; it was his fault that she had left. He felt stifled by the high ceilings of the practice courts. He gasped for breath. He needed something to do, to occupy his mind. He left the practice courts. When he reached the royal apartments he knocked on his father's door.
"Come in." The reply was faint and tired. Jasson entered his father's office. His quick eye took in the empty box that should have contained the Dominion Jewel.
"Mithros," he breathed. "Has it been taken?" Jon looked up blankly. He hardly saw his son. Then with an effort, he focused his eyes. "Has the Jewel been taken?" Jon shook his head.
"No, would you pick it up for me. It is over in that corner." Jasson picked it up. It was cold and hard in his hands. He carefully replaced it in its box, and then sealed the box with the spell that he had been taught. He watched his orange gift sparkle on the box, then disappear. He turned to his father.
"I want to learn more about my gift." Jasson's voice was hard and determined. Jonathan looked up at him. "You don't want me to though. Why? Roald and Liam have gotten more training than I. Their gifts are weaker than mine. I was just taught the basics. Why? I want to be able to use this resource." He then bowed his head. "Besides I need to keep my mind off things." The king looked and his son carefully, then stood.
"Come with me."
~*~
Zira was mad. Jasson had no right to make her feel guilty for loving Falkin. She hated Tortall. She hated men. She cursed in Antithean, and threw herself onto her bed. A knock came at the door. She walked over to it and flung it open. The handle dented the plaster where it hit the wall. Neal was on the other side of the door.
~*~
As the little group entered the encampment Falkin looked around. Dark eyes glared at his fair hair, and skin. He heard babies crying, and hoarse voices whispering in their sing-songy native language. He was brought before the largest of the tents, and an old man came out of it wearing a loose blue robe.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in barely accented Common.
"I'm here because" Falkin trailed off. He hardly knew himself why he was here. "I'm studying social conditions," he finished, and immediately regretted it. It sounded pretentious. He didn't want them to think that all they were to him were statistics, he wanted them to know that he cared about Antitheos.
"Well," the old man said, "how are the conditions here compared to those of the Tortall the great and wonderful?"
"Sir, I'm sorry. What I meant to say is that I..." Falkin's usually steady words stumbled again in front of this old man. The man glared down at him. "I'm sorry for what my people did."
"Yes, your people did this. Civilized Tortall. If that is all that you have come to say," the old man turned to a boy of about sixteen beside him, he told him something in Antithean. The boy walked up to Falkin and grabbed his sword. Falkin held onto it, puzzled. Two boys came up behind him, and pulled his arms back, so that the first boy could unbuckle his sword belt. Falkin struggled against his captors, but more came to hold him down, until he was truly over powered. Two girls lead his horse, Camel, away. Falkin whistled for Camel, but the girls firmly held him, and he was soon out of Falkin's sight. Falkin turned back towards the old man desperately.
"What are you going to do with me?"
"What your people did to us," he said simply. Kiké looked from one to the other, her green eyes desperately tried to decide what her duty was. She turned back to the old man, but he had reentered his tent. The boys dragged Falkin away until they came to a central square. There they tied him to a post. Falkin struggled, but the boys tied his bonds tightly. They cut off the circulation in his wrists. Falkin pushed the pole, and pulled against the ropes. Finally he began kicking the boys, they danced out of the way of his boots.. They were painfully thin, with bloated stomachs from starvation. Falkin did not want to fight them. It didn't seem right. The boys were chattering in Antithean, and grinning.
They began kicking Falkin. He fell into the dust. The boys were yelling to each other. They picked up rocks, and began throwing them at him. Falkin felt a hot and sticky liquid trickle down his face. The boys were laughing. They began yelling out names as they threw the rocks. Some would run in and punch or kick him. Falkin lost track of the blows. Suddenly it stopped. Falkin felt a shadow cover him. He slowly raised his head.
Kiké stood in front of him, knife draw. She looked down at him and smiled sadly.
"Thank you," Falkin said in shaky Antithean, and bowed his head. The world swung round him once, and then went completely black.