Kassi of Stone Mountain: O.o You're a horrible little bitch, you know that? . Do you, like, not like Nolee or something? Or are you like me and just want to punch her face in because her writing is so good ::glares:: But anyway…I'll see if I can put her in my story! She told me to put you in my story too. Thanks for reviewing!
Rubber Duck: Yeah, I thought about that. I just didn't put it because Kel was knocked out so there was no point in putting anything else after that. ::shrugs:: Thanks for reminding me, though; otherwise I would've forgotten all about it. Things shall be explained in this chapter.
Nolee of Stone Mountain: Of course you aren't an arrogant little bitch…whoever gave you that idea? O.o. Okay…why does this sound eerily like another conversation I had with you? The one where we were arguing over who loves Joren more? Yeah…and you gave me five Latin poolboys in exhange for him…what is it with you and Latin men?? I'll see if I can put Kassi in my story also.
Lynsi: Nolee has some kind of strange psychotic hold over you. Ever heard of Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's older half-sister? She was beautiful but she was an evil witch. Nolee's like her younger twin. Evil, bitchy, arrogant. Anyway, I'm glad you like my story! Thanks for your reviews!
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It was nightfall when Joren, hurting and swollen, moaned himself awake. The jerking of the wagon he was in tossed him around, knocking his broken skull against the sides. Birds twittered merrily around his head, chirping gaily before disappearing when h shook it. He moaned again and struggled to sit up. Finding his wrists and ankles bound with a heavy rope, he grimaced in more annoyance than pain and managed to sit upright and observe his surroundings.
There was no light in the covered wagon, save what the lanterns held by men outside gave. Nothing else was in there either - save someone who was staring at him with dark eyes, face impassively blank.
Joren's right eye twitched, his lip curling in distaste at his foul luck. So. The jumped-up Mindelan slut would be going wherever he was. Wonderful.
"What in the gods' names are you doing here, Lump?" he sneered.
"The same reason you're here, I suppose," Mindelan said, her voice devoid of any emotion, like it always is toward him.
"And why is that?" he asked coldly.
"From what I gather, we're going to be slaves," she told him. "There are others, in more wagons, behind us. I don't think there are anymore pages."
"How do you know this? How long have you been awake?"
"About an hour, I guess, enough for me to listen to what the men outside say."
"Did you get anything else?" Joren asked. He fought back a wince. He hated having to ask this bitch anything, but if she had any useful information, he needed to know it.
"Nothing important, really," Mindelan replied. "We're heading across seas."
When nothing else came out, Joren persisted irritably, "Where, slut?"
"You get more with honey than with vinegar," the girl quoted, and went silent.
More with honey than with vinegar, he thought, bewildered. What the hell did she mean by that? It's probably some kind of Yamani proverb or something. He had never heard it before.
A noise broke into his thoughts. Joren blinked and furrowed his brow. It sounded like a horse's whinny - actually, it sounded like a horse's scream. He saw Mindelan move her head ever so slightly to the direction of the screams. Men cursed, and they both were aware of rapid footsteps toward the alarmingly loud horse.
"Peachblossom," she said suddenly.
Joren looked at her. The light from the lamps outside cast a dim shine on her face, sending her eyes into shadows. In the gloomy glow, she looked like some kind of ethereal enchantress, an unfeeling seer without hope. He blinked, shaking his head with a smirk. Mindelan was none of those things, for sure.
"Who?"
"My gelding," she said quietly. "They took him with them when they took me."
Panic seized him. "Do they have other horses?" Joren asked anxiously.
"A couple mares, for breeding stock." Her face had returned to looking straight ahead, without emotion, without life. "But there could be others."
Joren met her eyes, narrowing them coldly to let her know that he was still better than her. Mindelan met his gaze square and firm. He sneered at her before looking away, keeping his head high. Truth was, those empty yet distinctly determined eyes unnerved him. He brushed the despicable thought of her away and instead channeled his feelings into prayers of his beloved Pyro, hoping he was safe.
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"Should we send letters to their families, my lord?"
Lord Wyldon of Cavall rubbed his temples wearily, his eyes screwed shut. The servant boy shifted his weight to his left foot nervously, awaiting orders from his master. With Page Keladry and Squire Joren vanished - without a trace, it seemed - along with their mounts, the world suddenly seemed to young and he too old.
Everything pointed to the direction that they were lovers who ran away together. Gareth the Younger himself said that, and Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak seemed to agree too. Everyone who knew of the page and squire, but did not know them directly, agreed with them.
But Wyldon knew different. None of their stuff was missing - their servants confirmed that - and wouldn't it be logical to pack before they ran away? And besides, Joren and Keladry…he knew their acute acrimony towards each other. It was too impossible.
Strange, he felt sorry for the girl's mysterious disappearance. He blamed it on guilt that she had vanished under his training, in his keep, but he knew a lot of it was because he feared she would not return, and would never become a knight.
Wyldon recalled how frenzied her friends had been. When she and Stone Mountain had been officially declared missing, their faces turned white and drawn.
Blast it all, that Jesslaw hellion even had tears running down his face, and for all they knew she could have been hiding in the tack room.
Somehow, though, Wyldon knew that was not the case.
"Not yet," he told the boy. "Wait and see if they show up, or if perhaps we receive a…a ransom note."
The servant boy bowed low and disappeared from the study.
Sir Paxton of Nond had been less than uneasy. He had told the training-master lazily and unconcerned that his squire liked the ladies and was probably with one of them. Wyldon did not rule that fact out, but he interrogated a stable hand, who had been there all day, and who told him that Master Joren rode his mount out into the woods, and neither horse nor rider returned.
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Neal wrung his hands nervously - a habit he only did when he was as fretful as a mother hen. His father, Duke Baird, observed him quietly, and began fixing a sleeping potion.
"Gods, Father, what happened to her?" came the inevitable outburst.
"I don't know, Neal," Baird replied, wincing at the tight-lipped, wild-eyed face staring at him, looking for answers that could not be given.
"Was she kidnapped? No, no not…not Kel, she's too strong for that, she would've fought…But what if she were outnumbered? Dear gods, did Stone Mountain kill her and drag her body somewhere? Maybe she's just…"
On and on he went, and Baird did he best to soothe his son, who may have just permanently lost his best friend. He knew of his son's many short-lived crushes. He knew how his son jumped from one woman to the next without a thought. But he also knew that Neal held one love true.
Neal held the Mindelan girl high on his pedestal. Baird often thought that perhaps Neal could not settle down on one maiden because he was looking for someone just like her. His son would never love her as a woman. But he could love her as a sister.
"Drink this," the duke ordered, shoving the clear potion toward him. Neal took it without a second thought, eyes fixed on the wall, his mind in some world, swallowing the bitter liquid down his constricting throat.
Watching him solemnly, Baird reached out and touched one smooth, bony cheek. Neal looked at him with eyes bright with unshed tears, and then hurdled himself into his father's embrace.
Baird decided not to tell him that he was taking this too far. After all, Keladry could return safe and sound tomorrow. But like Wyldon, he did not think it true.
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Also short. Oy. My apologies. I'll see for a longer update tomorrow or even this afternoon.