A/N: I'll be introducing another romance, but not involving D or N, don't
worry.
I know its not usual for me to answer reviewers at the beginning, but I'm going to anyway, so tough. Thanks guys!
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88: Thanks a lot! I'm updating now, so.
LadySatineThreepwood: I promise to update every night if I can!
Numair's Daine: You'll see in this chapter (or possibly the next) why she didn't. Don't worry. "Some day my fluff will come." (To the tune of Some Day my Prince will come).
Spice: Well. We'll just have to see!
Risika: Thanks! Sorry, I thought I caught all those little buggers. By the way-I know a girl named Risika. Hmm.
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Numair woke feeling groggy. His brain was having a dance party in his head, jigging to an unmerciful beat and pounding his skull, and all his memory neurons seemed to be too drunk to function (A/N: Sorry for the modern stuff, but I'm sure you guys value a joke). He felt sleep-infested all over, and his eyes cleared slowly, taking repeated blinks to clear. He was in a small room with whitewashed walls, he saw, lying on a cot with his feet sticking out for quite a bit at the end. Grimacing, he turned his head a little to the side. A window streamed sunlight into his sleepy eyes and he squeezed them shut in pain and surprise. A minute later, a shadow showed against his lids, and he cautiously inched them open. Slowly, the picture shaped itself from a blur to become a man with a full, beard that was thick and luxurious, and a mane of reddish hair that fell around his face, to which Numair's own hair was nothing. Kindly brown eyes looked down on him from a handsome face. His clothing was simple and homespun, but the man (who looked to be in his late twenties) bore himself like a king. Bringing forth a water pitcher and propping Numair's head up in one of his large hands, the man spoke, in a voice that was, surprising with his impressive appearance, light and of middling range.
"So you're up. It took you long enough. I should think that after sleeping for 3 days, you would be fresh as a young rabbit in springtime." He chuckled. "I'm Mediao, the healer." As the water flowed down Numair's parched throat, he asked in a hoarse voice,
"Where am I?"
The man chuckled again. "In the village, and in good hands. We'll take care of you here." The village? What village? Of the care he felt assured, just by the soothing of this man's presence. Then his mind presented another problem. How did he get from passing out to 'the village'? This man would probably know, considering the speed with which gossip went in small places.
"And how, exactly, did I get in the village?" His voice sounded better, but not any kinder for being grumpy.
"Did you not know," the man said curiously, setting the pitcher and himself down, "what has been the chief wonder of the people for these last few days? That you were carried here," here his voice took on a tone of awe, "by a lioness?" Shock burst upon Numair, and the words took a little time to sink in. Daine had been a lioness the last time he saw her, but he hadn't been aware of a village anywhere in sight. So Daine had carried him here as a lioness. Horror suddenly dawned upon him, and he tried to sit up, panic swamping his brain, but overcome by the pain that forced him back down.
"What's wrong?" Medaio asked as Numair groaned and fell back.
"The lioness," Numair brought out urgently. "Where.is she dead?" He managed to choke the dreaded word out.
"No. Just ah- a little worse for wear."
"Thank the gods," Numair breathed, relief at Daine's being all right making him forget his pain for a moment. Then, comprehending the second part of the phrase, he asked sharply, "A little worse for wear? How?"
The healer looked nervous, faced by this man's concern. "Well, she was mighty tattered up, must have been carrying you for well over a day, and been in a battle where she had no chance before that. All torn and bloodied- but a fine beast, if all's said and done."
Numair groaned inwardly. So she wasn't all right, or even a little all right. Typical of his Daine, to sacrifice herself like that. But, he realized suddenly, why didn't she change? Something magical bond must be stopping her from escaping the feline form that she had become in the heat of the battle. Well, he'd find out what it was soon enough, though right now he couldn't have supported himself if he tried. Time to summon up all your court airs, old fellow, he thought, then said, "See that this lioness is taken care of, all her wounds bandaged by someone reliable and her food and water replaced daily." Seeing the healer's look of protest, he added, "I can give you my word that this creature will do nothing to harm you. Do it, and leave me to my rest." Already his voice was becoming weaker with tiredness. The healer walked out of an unseen door, which Numair heard open and close right before he fell once more into an exhausted sleep.
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Stepping into the dim living room in the cottage of the disappeared mage, Voltair, Medaio sighed. It was easy enough for that man to say that it was safe, but how would he ever convince the people? To them, the still unconscious great cat was something to wonder over, not to tend. Oh well. He'd better try, or the man he tended would become angry-something he wished to avoid, as his healing Gift told him that the man's power was of the strong magical kind. Medaio crossed the room in three quick strides, pushed aside the screen of beads that blocked the door, and stepped into the sunlight. He blinked and stretched, then walked down the road to Dareem's door. It opened when he was about to knock, washing his eyes, which were only just adjusted to the light, with gloom. His poor peepers, dilating once again, made out the outline of someone in the doorway-an old, stooped someone.
"Saw you coming, you young rip!" she cackled, happy at having her joke. Medaio smiled good-naturedly, because he was really very fond of the old lady. "So, what news of that great tall bloke have you brought us, then?"
Stepping inside, his saw (with eyes that were by now very practiced in quick changes) the dimly lit scene in Dareem's living room. Nodding respectfully to Dareem, his gaze swept across the room. Of course, Tarina was there, with Meena returning to her side already. He saw Yaman, too, which didn't surprise him-the youth had an extreme respect for his leader. Then, sitting quietly with a large, tortoiseshell cat in her lap, he saw Damae (A/N: Da-MAY). About 4 years younger than he was, the young woman was pretty and kind, and constantly accompanied by at least one of her countless cats, and her large, green eyes and graceful manner tended to remind a person of one. He and Damaegriata (her real name), were good friends, and she had a skill for healing that had nothing to do with magic, only pure talent. He helped her to learn the art of saving lives, and they had become quite close over the years. That, he thought, combined with the thought that he loved her like nothing else in the world, made it both a pain and a joy to see her there. But the joy was overwhelming today, as he also had a practical problem. He smiled at her as she met his eyes.
"It's good to see you, Damae. Maybe you could help me." He looked around at the rest of the room, which was expectantly silent. "The mage woke up, but the only thing that seemed to matter to him was.strange." Medaio took a deep breath, preparing himself to say what had so astounded him. "He asked, surprisingly, not about himself, but only cared about another." He looked at Damae, or rather, at the cat purring in her lap. "He had it understood that he would settle for no less than the lioness being doctored and fed, without so much as a syllable of explanation."
"But of course!" his young friend exclaimed. "What is more natural than the doctoring of an animal?" As she spoke, in her soft, musical voice, she tightened her hold around her cat.
"It may become dangerous," Dareem observed, unsurprised as usual.
Medaio grimaced. "He gave me his word that it would not."
"Then by all means, let Damae go and doctor it." Dareem smiled at the startled woman, who blushed at the obviousness of her mind. Standing, while still managing not to drop her cat, she led the way out of the room.
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As Damae walked past Medaio, who politely made room for her, she couldn't keep her heart from beating faster. Inwardly, she sighed. What was the use of love when you fell in love with someone could never love you? Well, she'd have to live with it, and with both the pleasures and the pains that it created.
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A/N: So, what do you think? I threw Medaio and Damae in there as an extra touch, just to include more people in the story. Tell me what you think I should do with them-I'm completely at loss for this romance. Advice please!
The next chapter will be coming ASAP.
I know its not usual for me to answer reviewers at the beginning, but I'm going to anyway, so tough. Thanks guys!
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88: Thanks a lot! I'm updating now, so.
LadySatineThreepwood: I promise to update every night if I can!
Numair's Daine: You'll see in this chapter (or possibly the next) why she didn't. Don't worry. "Some day my fluff will come." (To the tune of Some Day my Prince will come).
Spice: Well. We'll just have to see!
Risika: Thanks! Sorry, I thought I caught all those little buggers. By the way-I know a girl named Risika. Hmm.
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Numair woke feeling groggy. His brain was having a dance party in his head, jigging to an unmerciful beat and pounding his skull, and all his memory neurons seemed to be too drunk to function (A/N: Sorry for the modern stuff, but I'm sure you guys value a joke). He felt sleep-infested all over, and his eyes cleared slowly, taking repeated blinks to clear. He was in a small room with whitewashed walls, he saw, lying on a cot with his feet sticking out for quite a bit at the end. Grimacing, he turned his head a little to the side. A window streamed sunlight into his sleepy eyes and he squeezed them shut in pain and surprise. A minute later, a shadow showed against his lids, and he cautiously inched them open. Slowly, the picture shaped itself from a blur to become a man with a full, beard that was thick and luxurious, and a mane of reddish hair that fell around his face, to which Numair's own hair was nothing. Kindly brown eyes looked down on him from a handsome face. His clothing was simple and homespun, but the man (who looked to be in his late twenties) bore himself like a king. Bringing forth a water pitcher and propping Numair's head up in one of his large hands, the man spoke, in a voice that was, surprising with his impressive appearance, light and of middling range.
"So you're up. It took you long enough. I should think that after sleeping for 3 days, you would be fresh as a young rabbit in springtime." He chuckled. "I'm Mediao, the healer." As the water flowed down Numair's parched throat, he asked in a hoarse voice,
"Where am I?"
The man chuckled again. "In the village, and in good hands. We'll take care of you here." The village? What village? Of the care he felt assured, just by the soothing of this man's presence. Then his mind presented another problem. How did he get from passing out to 'the village'? This man would probably know, considering the speed with which gossip went in small places.
"And how, exactly, did I get in the village?" His voice sounded better, but not any kinder for being grumpy.
"Did you not know," the man said curiously, setting the pitcher and himself down, "what has been the chief wonder of the people for these last few days? That you were carried here," here his voice took on a tone of awe, "by a lioness?" Shock burst upon Numair, and the words took a little time to sink in. Daine had been a lioness the last time he saw her, but he hadn't been aware of a village anywhere in sight. So Daine had carried him here as a lioness. Horror suddenly dawned upon him, and he tried to sit up, panic swamping his brain, but overcome by the pain that forced him back down.
"What's wrong?" Medaio asked as Numair groaned and fell back.
"The lioness," Numair brought out urgently. "Where.is she dead?" He managed to choke the dreaded word out.
"No. Just ah- a little worse for wear."
"Thank the gods," Numair breathed, relief at Daine's being all right making him forget his pain for a moment. Then, comprehending the second part of the phrase, he asked sharply, "A little worse for wear? How?"
The healer looked nervous, faced by this man's concern. "Well, she was mighty tattered up, must have been carrying you for well over a day, and been in a battle where she had no chance before that. All torn and bloodied- but a fine beast, if all's said and done."
Numair groaned inwardly. So she wasn't all right, or even a little all right. Typical of his Daine, to sacrifice herself like that. But, he realized suddenly, why didn't she change? Something magical bond must be stopping her from escaping the feline form that she had become in the heat of the battle. Well, he'd find out what it was soon enough, though right now he couldn't have supported himself if he tried. Time to summon up all your court airs, old fellow, he thought, then said, "See that this lioness is taken care of, all her wounds bandaged by someone reliable and her food and water replaced daily." Seeing the healer's look of protest, he added, "I can give you my word that this creature will do nothing to harm you. Do it, and leave me to my rest." Already his voice was becoming weaker with tiredness. The healer walked out of an unseen door, which Numair heard open and close right before he fell once more into an exhausted sleep.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Stepping into the dim living room in the cottage of the disappeared mage, Voltair, Medaio sighed. It was easy enough for that man to say that it was safe, but how would he ever convince the people? To them, the still unconscious great cat was something to wonder over, not to tend. Oh well. He'd better try, or the man he tended would become angry-something he wished to avoid, as his healing Gift told him that the man's power was of the strong magical kind. Medaio crossed the room in three quick strides, pushed aside the screen of beads that blocked the door, and stepped into the sunlight. He blinked and stretched, then walked down the road to Dareem's door. It opened when he was about to knock, washing his eyes, which were only just adjusted to the light, with gloom. His poor peepers, dilating once again, made out the outline of someone in the doorway-an old, stooped someone.
"Saw you coming, you young rip!" she cackled, happy at having her joke. Medaio smiled good-naturedly, because he was really very fond of the old lady. "So, what news of that great tall bloke have you brought us, then?"
Stepping inside, his saw (with eyes that were by now very practiced in quick changes) the dimly lit scene in Dareem's living room. Nodding respectfully to Dareem, his gaze swept across the room. Of course, Tarina was there, with Meena returning to her side already. He saw Yaman, too, which didn't surprise him-the youth had an extreme respect for his leader. Then, sitting quietly with a large, tortoiseshell cat in her lap, he saw Damae (A/N: Da-MAY). About 4 years younger than he was, the young woman was pretty and kind, and constantly accompanied by at least one of her countless cats, and her large, green eyes and graceful manner tended to remind a person of one. He and Damaegriata (her real name), were good friends, and she had a skill for healing that had nothing to do with magic, only pure talent. He helped her to learn the art of saving lives, and they had become quite close over the years. That, he thought, combined with the thought that he loved her like nothing else in the world, made it both a pain and a joy to see her there. But the joy was overwhelming today, as he also had a practical problem. He smiled at her as she met his eyes.
"It's good to see you, Damae. Maybe you could help me." He looked around at the rest of the room, which was expectantly silent. "The mage woke up, but the only thing that seemed to matter to him was.strange." Medaio took a deep breath, preparing himself to say what had so astounded him. "He asked, surprisingly, not about himself, but only cared about another." He looked at Damae, or rather, at the cat purring in her lap. "He had it understood that he would settle for no less than the lioness being doctored and fed, without so much as a syllable of explanation."
"But of course!" his young friend exclaimed. "What is more natural than the doctoring of an animal?" As she spoke, in her soft, musical voice, she tightened her hold around her cat.
"It may become dangerous," Dareem observed, unsurprised as usual.
Medaio grimaced. "He gave me his word that it would not."
"Then by all means, let Damae go and doctor it." Dareem smiled at the startled woman, who blushed at the obviousness of her mind. Standing, while still managing not to drop her cat, she led the way out of the room.
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As Damae walked past Medaio, who politely made room for her, she couldn't keep her heart from beating faster. Inwardly, she sighed. What was the use of love when you fell in love with someone could never love you? Well, she'd have to live with it, and with both the pleasures and the pains that it created.
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A/N: So, what do you think? I threw Medaio and Damae in there as an extra touch, just to include more people in the story. Tell me what you think I should do with them-I'm completely at loss for this romance. Advice please!
The next chapter will be coming ASAP.