Disclaimer: I do not own anything you saw in the Immortals Quartet. I do own the things you haven't, most notably the currently dying Zircah.
A/N: I had zippo inspiration for this chapter. I'm sorry it's so short. I'm sorry it's so horrible. It's not going to get any better, no matter how many times I rewrite it, so you may as well have it now. And before people start fretting – no, Maura is not, and will not, die!
Chapter Fourteen: Three Warning ShotsCautiously, Rikash flew over the area that housed the immortal menagerie. He couldn't see any humans in it, and he knew Ozorne was at the peace talks. He should attend those soon, but first he wanted to check up on Zircah, though it seemed rather pointless. If Ozorne cast a spell to kill, he had no doubts that it would. Still, he drifted innocently closer and then surreptitiously dropped into the open courtyard.
Barzha looked up, startled, and shook her head at him. "You shouldn't be here."
Rikash shrugged helplessly. "Forgive me, my queen, but I wanted to see how… you all were."
Hebakh raised his eyebrows at this, but said nothing. Barzha was a little more obvious in her scepticism. "Oh, all of us? How… nice. You're going soft, Rikash. I never thought I'd say that of you, but there you are."
Rikash glared at her sullenly and skulked closer. "I have come up with a plan, you know. I thought I deserved some time off for being so brilliant." Somehow he didn't think the Graveyard Hag would take kindly to being mentioned, so he left her out of it. Hebakh perked up, interest showing in his features.
"Well, don't say anything about it in here." He said. Zircah shifted and let out a soft run of Stormwing commentary. Rikash's gaze transferred itself to her and he winced even as he moved closer to peer over her. Already she looked as though she had been sick for months. It was a very strange thing, to see a Stormwing looking less than at perfect health, and yet without any wounds. It was frightening. He looked away hastily.
"I… I must go. I have to join the peace talks, with Jokhun." He said, disappointment showing in his tone. Barzha nodded.
"If you get us out of here, she may heal." She said calmly. "Do not give up hope so easily."
Rikash bowed his head and flapped his way out of the menagerie. He hoped she was right.
Running, running through chilly, ill-lit corridors, running and screaming…
…Reaching fearlessly for the skin, the vibrant skin. So beautiful. So horrible… so horribly, horribly dead… She couldn't help it, couldn't save it, couldn't stop its pain…
A flash. Stop the pain.
She saw the sands, shifting, whipping with fury, the storm was rising, the dark was falling. The dark was falling and yet the light was growing, growing and blinding her, paining her eyes with its intensity, burning with holy light until she couldn't stand it.
She screamed.
Silence.
Tap. Tap tap. Scratching of a hundred thousand nails. Scuffles of sound against the glassy blackness, scratching, scratching. Gnawing. She could hear them, but she could see nothing. She could hear, but she couldn't call.
The rats.
She reached for them. She knew something was wrong, that she must use their strength to pull herself from the blackness. But they were ignoring her. No, not ignoring, just not hearing. Not waiting for the chance to be of use.
Rats are always like that.
Wait, wait for me. Help me out of this place. You can do it. You're so strong. There are so many of you… But they were running, running away. They had more important things to do, things that the Mistress bade them. The Mistress was taking action, now.
They seemed vaguely regretful that she had gotten in the Mistress' way.
Maura skidded to a halt in front of a candelabra, brown hair askew. She grabbed at the stick, but the shadows loomed behind her and with a scream, she whirled to confront her attacker.
Blackness and the blood scent. The soft, sweet sounds of the jungle. All were gone in this strange place. She blinked, confused.
Awake?
She didn't want to be awake. She curled, nose to tail, feet tucked under, feeling hollow. She watched the fire-and-shadow tail twitch before her as her eyes went dull.
Frightened shrieks, rampant and chaotic emotions spinning through the air as a thousand rats streamed from a many-layered cake. She moved away from it, the charged atmosphere hurting her. She screamed again.
The Banjiku gathered around the eagle-girl. She was clutching her head, exclaiming loudly in pain. They chattered and clicked frantically at her, trying to wake her from the strange dream. She beat at bars that were not there, shrieked names that they did not know. Finally, she slumped to the floor, unconscious. Tano shook her gently and jumped when her eyes opened instantly.
"The gods, the captured gods!" The eagle-girl jabbered, sitting up too fast. "She is just like the god's daughter who greeted us. Just like…" She trailed off and fainted again. Tano's eyes widened in understanding. He beckoned his friends to help care for the eagle-girl. Then he set off to find the gods that she had spoken of.
The storm had reached Carthak. Her anger boiled, a stream of magma ready to explode. She held out her old, wizened hands.
Hands?
Lightning crackled from the skies, charged for the faces of a man she hated. Gold smattered into a thousand melted globules, spreading and cooling across marble tiles. Humans shrieked and ran from the scene. Slowly her anger faded, and the storm dissipated. Surely he would heed this.
Memories, memories, a cold stone hall. Serving mortals lined the walls, their fear a heavy scent in the air. Three children were before her – she recognised this scene. Zhaneh Bitterclaws held out her wings to the children. Zircah cried as they were thrust forward upon the bladed feathers, their blood flooding the floor.
A single silver feather touched the nape of a darkly tanned neck, hidden by gilded braids.
Giant warrior mounted on his faithful steed, striding through the doll-house city, not crushing the buildings, but galloping on air. Burning hoof prints were left behind. He roared with anguish in an ancient tongue, and galloped away again, taking away any hope that had lingered in the air. Zircah wailed at the volume of his voice.
Her own scream turned into the chirping of many birds. Daine and Ozorne dined together somewhere brightly lit. Daine drank from a goblet and set it down, a frown appearing on her face. A bird shrieked danger, and Veralidaine fell to the cold marble floor. Ozorne snapped his fingers and watched coldly as she was carried away.
Tunnel. Left turn, tunnel. Right turn, staircase, long tunnel.
Circling, circling, silver and gold shining in the moonlight, mail feathers glinting, silken hair flying out behind him with the rattle of bones. Silver streams shot from the sky, poured like rain and her knight plummeted into deep water. Silver bubbled and then trickled away, leaving the semblance of two silver eyes reflected from the surface.
…Uusoae…
Six muskets in a row, one man standing tall. Six shots. Mortal man crumples and scarlet spreads as the audience roars…
Rikash stared down at Zircah from the roof of the courtyard as she strained against the weight of Barzha and Hebakh on her wings, screaming. He glanced away, squinting into the distant arena. It was over. Salmalín was dead, Veralidaine vanished and Zircah was all but dead. What was the Goddess' plan now? What did the Hag want him to do? He hung his head. It was all over.
~*~
A/N: I think Rikash-chan gives up too easily. I'm so sorry for the short, boring chapter. =( The next one is far better, promise. Thanks to my reviewers. 33