A/N: ACK! The Internet was down for days! I'm really really sorry!!! Hope
you aren't too mad at me for that cliffy! :-P! Heehee. But now I'll put up
another chapter, just for you. By the way-I now have all of 3 reviewers!
Thank you very much to them!
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88: I know. I'm sorry *begging forgiveness *! I'll get them all up a.s.a.p.
Sitting Dragon: I know! I love cliffies, though (except when they happen to me!) I think this one will be a small cliffy too . . . *grins evilly *.
Silver Mage 2: *pouts * But I like being cruel! J/k, I do like some fluffy agony sometimes though. Who doesn't?
Ps. Did I spell Corus right?
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Numair prepared to return to Tortall as soon as he was physically well enough to travel. Mentally, he didn't recover much. His dreams were plagued with Daine, his waking hours spent in suffering. He had a stab of pain each time he saw Medaio and Damae together now. They touched and kissed just as he and Daine had, and any time he ran into them doing it he painfully remembered when he and Daine would do the same thing. Medaio had heard of Daine's death and grieved with them all, though he was far from the extent of Numair's misery. Damae, too, grieved, but was supported by her love for Medaio. Numair was happy for them, but it did nothing to lighten his heart.
The night before he left the village, probably forever, he had extended courteous invitations for someone to accompany him, though nothing truly mattered to him now. To his slight surprise, Yaman had accepted, saying he wanted to see more of the world. Numair privately agreed with the decision- what use was a seer in a small village?
So, the next morning, he and Yaman put the final touches to their packing, and were ready to set leave. Numair had just his horse, loaded with a blanket, some food, a few small gifts, and Daine's urn. He had fashioned the same type of thong that Daine had around her claw, and now he wore it around his neck as a constant reminder of her loss-not that he needed much reminding. Yaman also had a pack-mule, on which he bound all he owned, not expecting to come back. Cloud followed them demurely, dangerously thin. And so, together, they set out on the journey back.
Numair remembered little of the trip, only the constant suffering of his mind and heart, and his arrival in Corus.
He was shown into the throne room, where the friends had been called together upon hearing about his arrival. They saw his haggard appearance and the lost look in his eyes, and exchanged worried glances. They were further surprised when Numair wasn't followed by Daine, but by a grave, quiet looking young man. They instantly took to him, his open, wise-beyond- his-years face making them trust him implicitly. He was attractive, too, and they wondered what he was doing there. And where was Daine?
"Numair!" Jon boomed, grasping his friend and leading him to a small table at a side of the huge room, where food and wine stood ready. "You've been gone for over a month! What happened in all that time?"
Numair sat down to the food and pushed the plate away, taking only a glass of wine. He sipped it slowly. "It's a long story." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yaman wait uncomfortably by the door.
"We've got time," Alanna said, smiling. "And who's this?" she asked, turning to Yaman curiously. Numair gestured for Yaman to introduce himself- he was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what he would say to his friends about Daine.
Yaman looked a little overwhelmed. He hadn't expected to be taken into the throne room first thing! He had had some experience with being in the vicinity of Ozorne, and he did what peasants had been forced to do before the emperor-he dropped to his knees, arms stretched and hands splayed in front of him, and touched his forehead to the ground in a proper display of respect.
"Carthaki," Alanna muttered to Lindhall, amused. The older mage nodded thoughtfully. They that hadn't been to Carthak under emperor Ozorne's rule just stared, amazed, as Yaman addressed the floor, his voice muffled.
"Your Majesties, my Lords, my Ladies, I am known as Yaman. I am but a common villager from Carthak, yet I entreat your permission to remain in your beautiful country." He remained on his knees but half sat up, not looking at the monarchs.
"You left the best part out," Numair said hoarsely from the side of the room. "Yaman's a seer, Jon." Yaman tensed in slight fear-only nobles had been allowed to be important under Ozorne-and Yaman had not been near the new emperor. If a noble had a mage slave or seer slave, which did not happen often, the noble took all the credit. Free men might pay their way through the university and up the ranks, but Yaman had no money to afford something like that.
There was a short, surprised pause. "Well!" Jon eventually said, but then he strode forward, a welcoming smile on his face, and hauled and astonished Yaman to his feet. "Welcome to Tortall! You're one of us now." And, with that, Yaman was introduced, by name, to all the important people that he'd been afraid of.
Once things had calmed down, Onua let her held-back worries about Daine come out. "Well, Numair," she said, "you've brought us someone new, but where's the one you were supposed to bring back?"
"Yes," Thayet chimed in, "where's Daine?"
Numair looked away, pained to tell them and relieve it all in his mind. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "She's dead," he said softly, her scream once again reverberating in his ears. The words themselves were sickening- it was the first time he had heard them, much less spoken them. They were so final, so utterly unfeeling that they made him shudder.
"WHAT?" Alanna yelled, shocked.
"Vaelon burned her," Numair said into his hands. He turned to them, tears in his eyes. They were all staring at him, uncomprehending. He sighed deeply, a sigh that held all the pain and grief of the world, and reached into the bag he had brought with them, pulling out a small, ochre-colored urn. Numair turned away and buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, Goddess!" Onua murmured. "It can't be. . ." But it was. The friends listened together, weeping silently, as Numair told them what had happened after he'd left to find Daine. By the end of it, he was crying openly, as were Onua, Alanna, and Thayet. Lindhall, George, and Jon's eyes were misty, and the later put his arm on Numair's shoulder comfortingly.
"You loved her," he said softly. It was more of a statement than a question.
Numair nodded, pain written all over his face. "And she me."
"Mithros. . ." Alanna sobbed. "How can it be possible?"
No one knew what to answer.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
A/N: What'd ya think? It was so hard to write that scene! Hope it wasn't too bad.
Please review!
wormy
CrAzYhOrSeGiRl88: I know. I'm sorry *begging forgiveness *! I'll get them all up a.s.a.p.
Sitting Dragon: I know! I love cliffies, though (except when they happen to me!) I think this one will be a small cliffy too . . . *grins evilly *.
Silver Mage 2: *pouts * But I like being cruel! J/k, I do like some fluffy agony sometimes though. Who doesn't?
Ps. Did I spell Corus right?
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Numair prepared to return to Tortall as soon as he was physically well enough to travel. Mentally, he didn't recover much. His dreams were plagued with Daine, his waking hours spent in suffering. He had a stab of pain each time he saw Medaio and Damae together now. They touched and kissed just as he and Daine had, and any time he ran into them doing it he painfully remembered when he and Daine would do the same thing. Medaio had heard of Daine's death and grieved with them all, though he was far from the extent of Numair's misery. Damae, too, grieved, but was supported by her love for Medaio. Numair was happy for them, but it did nothing to lighten his heart.
The night before he left the village, probably forever, he had extended courteous invitations for someone to accompany him, though nothing truly mattered to him now. To his slight surprise, Yaman had accepted, saying he wanted to see more of the world. Numair privately agreed with the decision- what use was a seer in a small village?
So, the next morning, he and Yaman put the final touches to their packing, and were ready to set leave. Numair had just his horse, loaded with a blanket, some food, a few small gifts, and Daine's urn. He had fashioned the same type of thong that Daine had around her claw, and now he wore it around his neck as a constant reminder of her loss-not that he needed much reminding. Yaman also had a pack-mule, on which he bound all he owned, not expecting to come back. Cloud followed them demurely, dangerously thin. And so, together, they set out on the journey back.
Numair remembered little of the trip, only the constant suffering of his mind and heart, and his arrival in Corus.
He was shown into the throne room, where the friends had been called together upon hearing about his arrival. They saw his haggard appearance and the lost look in his eyes, and exchanged worried glances. They were further surprised when Numair wasn't followed by Daine, but by a grave, quiet looking young man. They instantly took to him, his open, wise-beyond- his-years face making them trust him implicitly. He was attractive, too, and they wondered what he was doing there. And where was Daine?
"Numair!" Jon boomed, grasping his friend and leading him to a small table at a side of the huge room, where food and wine stood ready. "You've been gone for over a month! What happened in all that time?"
Numair sat down to the food and pushed the plate away, taking only a glass of wine. He sipped it slowly. "It's a long story." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yaman wait uncomfortably by the door.
"We've got time," Alanna said, smiling. "And who's this?" she asked, turning to Yaman curiously. Numair gestured for Yaman to introduce himself- he was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what he would say to his friends about Daine.
Yaman looked a little overwhelmed. He hadn't expected to be taken into the throne room first thing! He had had some experience with being in the vicinity of Ozorne, and he did what peasants had been forced to do before the emperor-he dropped to his knees, arms stretched and hands splayed in front of him, and touched his forehead to the ground in a proper display of respect.
"Carthaki," Alanna muttered to Lindhall, amused. The older mage nodded thoughtfully. They that hadn't been to Carthak under emperor Ozorne's rule just stared, amazed, as Yaman addressed the floor, his voice muffled.
"Your Majesties, my Lords, my Ladies, I am known as Yaman. I am but a common villager from Carthak, yet I entreat your permission to remain in your beautiful country." He remained on his knees but half sat up, not looking at the monarchs.
"You left the best part out," Numair said hoarsely from the side of the room. "Yaman's a seer, Jon." Yaman tensed in slight fear-only nobles had been allowed to be important under Ozorne-and Yaman had not been near the new emperor. If a noble had a mage slave or seer slave, which did not happen often, the noble took all the credit. Free men might pay their way through the university and up the ranks, but Yaman had no money to afford something like that.
There was a short, surprised pause. "Well!" Jon eventually said, but then he strode forward, a welcoming smile on his face, and hauled and astonished Yaman to his feet. "Welcome to Tortall! You're one of us now." And, with that, Yaman was introduced, by name, to all the important people that he'd been afraid of.
Once things had calmed down, Onua let her held-back worries about Daine come out. "Well, Numair," she said, "you've brought us someone new, but where's the one you were supposed to bring back?"
"Yes," Thayet chimed in, "where's Daine?"
Numair looked away, pained to tell them and relieve it all in his mind. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "She's dead," he said softly, her scream once again reverberating in his ears. The words themselves were sickening- it was the first time he had heard them, much less spoken them. They were so final, so utterly unfeeling that they made him shudder.
"WHAT?" Alanna yelled, shocked.
"Vaelon burned her," Numair said into his hands. He turned to them, tears in his eyes. They were all staring at him, uncomprehending. He sighed deeply, a sigh that held all the pain and grief of the world, and reached into the bag he had brought with them, pulling out a small, ochre-colored urn. Numair turned away and buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, Goddess!" Onua murmured. "It can't be. . ." But it was. The friends listened together, weeping silently, as Numair told them what had happened after he'd left to find Daine. By the end of it, he was crying openly, as were Onua, Alanna, and Thayet. Lindhall, George, and Jon's eyes were misty, and the later put his arm on Numair's shoulder comfortingly.
"You loved her," he said softly. It was more of a statement than a question.
Numair nodded, pain written all over his face. "And she me."
"Mithros. . ." Alanna sobbed. "How can it be possible?"
No one knew what to answer.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
A/N: What'd ya think? It was so hard to write that scene! Hope it wasn't too bad.
Please review!
wormy