The disclaimer: Oops. Oh, well. The Halfblood Chronicles belong to Mercedes Lackey and Andre Norton. This is just a fanfic. But it's my fanfic. Paws off!
All right, this time for sure. Enjoy!
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Cyerriah struck the first man, still airborne, in the back, sending them both toppling head first to the ground. On impact, she went limp, rolling loose of the tangle of limbs and hard angles.
"What th-!" His two companions spun to face her, briefly too startled to react. On the ground behind them she caught a glimpse of a small, motionless form; a tangle of blonde hair. Cold anger swelled, as she flowed to her feet, half-skipping to avoid the flailing arms of the winded man on the ground.
The larger of the two men, recovering his senses, made a lunge at her, swinging meaty fists. She ducked, and twisted agilely under and around, spinning automatically to sweep her leg into a kick that knocked his feet out from under him. It felt—natural. Instinctive, almost. Like her body had done this before—like it was moving on its own. Fingers closed on her ankle, and she lashed out with her foot, feeling it connect with a chin even as she tumbled backward to the ground.
She rolled, and came back to her original crouch. Abruptly, the familiarity of the situation came together. She had knelt like this in the Great Hall that day, before Lord Shaen. At the end of the Dance. Steps… from the Dance. All of them, different combinations—patterns… She felt a wonderful click in her mind as if everything was falling into place.
Suddenly a flash of energy filled her vision, and she cringed in abject panic —I forgot the mage!! Her muscles seized too late, trying to move, even as it flowed over her and—vanished? She blinked bemusedly, still seeing stars, her mind not quite acknowledging what had happened.
The magic-user recovered quickly, growling with frustration. "This un's got iron on 'er. Can't read 'er either."
"Well then, we'll jus' have to take it from 'er." A greedy, possessive chuckle. "It'll fetch a good price, too."
What? She blinked again. Oh. Oh. She vaguely recalled Amity explaining something to her about this. Iron interfered with all magic, not just the collar-spell.
One of the two she had knocked down was back on his feet—the one who had spoken. The other…didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon. Still, he moaned, and struggled feebly, and a distant part of Cyerriah's mind felt somehow relieved. But only a very small part.
The mage eyed her for a few moments, as they stood in a strange sort of stalemate. Finally, he tapped the short wooden club he was holding into his palm. "It's back o' her collar."
The other man laughed, leering at her. "And a pretty bit o' work that is, too. Real gold, like. I bet this un here's an elf-slut." He advanced slowly toward her, holding a knife, now. "Play nice, li'l girl. You an' me both know you jus' got lucky a few times. Wouldn't wanna see me git real mad, now, would ya? Bet a cute li'l thing like you can think o' a few ways t' calm me down, mm?"
Her eyes narrowed. He'd better believe she could, and not in the way he was thinking, either. Castration for a start… But she was shaken now, and the gleaming knife seemed to catch and hold her eyes with a strange, atavistic fascination. A shiver ran down her spine. Maybe if I catch him by surprise… She could hear Jemayne stirring. If I distract the mage… Oh, Maynee, be all right!
That leering face and glinting knife were drawing closer. There was no more time to think, or even be afraid. Time to cast the dice. In one rapid motion she feinted right, and then leapt-tumbled-dodged around the man in the other direction—the side with the knife, despite all her instincts, and hopefully the direction he wouldn't expect.
She felt the wind of the knife whistling past her cheek, but no more. Knife-man was cursing profusely, and wheeling toward her, the mage was raising his cudgel. But she was past the first, and now she flung herself at the other, hurtling head-down into the mage.
She struck him, full force, in the stomach, and heard an 'Oof!' as the air was knocked out of him. It weakened his blow—but only slightly. The club grazed against her skull and impacted with her shoulder, sending her staggering to the ground, stunned. It hurt. A lot.
Large hands caught her roughly by the collar from behind, half-choking her as she was slammed up against a tree. She gasped and coughed, trying to open her windpipe, then struggled just to draw breath as thick fingers reached between collar and skin, prying loose the piece of iron there.
A sudden wave of dizziness rushed over her as the collar-spell reasserted itself. If she had been on the ground, she would have staggered. As it was, she stopped overtly contesting the man's grip, concentrating her attention solely on keeping her feet and continuing breathing.
"Got it," announced the one holding her. "Y' okay, there, Gein?" Crude laughter. "Little hell-cat got yeh pretty good, I'd say."
She heard a soft snarl. "I'll show her good. Little witch!" Abruptly a face loomed in her vision, countenance contorted with anger. The mage caught her chin in a painful grip, leaning close as his companion stepped away. His voice was a venomous hiss. "I'm going t' show y' what kitties that can't keep th' claws in gets, y' little slut!"
Cyerriah's hand clenched. The collar's effect was growing; she had to struggle to focus her attention away from the strengthening compulsions that warred within her. Putting all her strength behind it, she swung her arm up; slamming her fist into the mage's nose.
She heard the shriek of pain and rage as he went down, heard the angry yelp of the other man. But she was aware of little else. She barely even flinched as the man back-handed her to the ground at one side.
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Jemayne fought her way up through a blanket of pain. It seemed at first, a diffuse, suffocating thing, omnipresent in each ragged breath and every sluggish thought. Gradually she became aware that the pain radiated from one throbbing point, an aching lump at the back of her skull, shooting out tendrils of fire. She heard someone moaning, and abstractedly identified the voice as her own. I should do something about that, she thought vaguely. But it was much easier to simply drift… I wonder who hit me. The thought, random, triggered a sort of indefinite unease within her. A distant fragment of her consciousness stirred, crying out: No! Not again! Disquieted she reached for her magic, as a child would a comfort blanket.
The sensation was that of running into a blank wall.
Helpless. Again. The murmuring fragment reared to the fore-front of her mind. No! Panic, terror, and rage swept through her, wave after wave crashing down. Anger won. Never again!!
Her mind battering furiously at the mental block, she simultaneously clawed her way up into consciousness, shouldering aside pain and dizziness with heedless determination. Her eyelids flickered, then opened to narrow slits, darkness sliding in and out of her vision, as she blearily tried to absorb her surroundings.
She noticed the voices first, and then, as she focused, made out the words. Her anger flared, and, beneath it, her fear. No longer afraid to move, she was now terrified not to. The pained cry of a familiar voice only intensified her efforts. She forced herself to sit up, fighting back a wave of darkness.
She could see now, the man who held the shield over her, as he leaned close to Cyerriah, pressing her against a tree. For a moment, another face was super-imposed over his in her vision, another's cruel smile twisted handsome features.
Cyerriah struck him.
The shield around Jemayne cracked, then shattered under the weight of her mind. Power, strengthened and intensified by her rage, flowed through her, over her, in her, rushing outwards in an uncontrollable torrent. The current dragged at her mind, pulling it under, submerging it in a blazing white void.
In that blank space, time did not exist. Thought did not exist. Nothing. Just the radiant intensity of the unleashed power, running itself out, unchecked.
It might have been an hour, but she thought it was only a few minutes later that it finally faded away. She blinked, clearing her vision. Every blade of grass in the clearing lay plastered flat against the ground, radiating out from the point where she stood. Otherwise, the area showed no sign of damage.
The first man she noticed, one she hadn't seen before, lay untouched, his eyes wide and terrified, staring at her. He gibbered unintelligibly for a few moments, staggered to his feet, and bolted, abandoning his companions. Of the other two… the mage appeared to still be breathing. His crumpled form lay in a small ring of less-damaged grass, chest moving slightly, and blood trickling from his nose where he had been hit. The other man... his face was frozen in an expression of dawning horror. His hand, lying by his chin, was still curled into the fist he had hit Cyerriah with.
Jemayne turned away, her stomach twisting and heaving. She felt herself start to shake, from shock, as much as exhaustion. What did I...? What have I…? Still numb and stunned, she looked for Cyerriah.
She spotted her, and felt a wrenching twist inside herself, as she realized something was wrong. Did I...? Cyerriah was sitting near where she had fallen, her legs drawn up against her chest, her eyes vague and unfocused, as if her attention were turned inward. She seemed almost to vibrate with intensity.
"Cyerriah!" Jemayne stumbled down beside her, catching hold of her hands. "Cye, please, look at me! What's wrong? Cye, please, I need you to tell me what's wrong!"
The other shivered, and Jemayne suddenly found herself looking into to green eyes, dark with inner anguish. "Maynee?" The ghost of a smile touched Cyerriah's face. "You're okay. I was worried…"
"I'm fine," Jemayne said shortly. "Cye, what's wrong? Cye! What happened? Did I…?"
Cyerriah drew one hand back, clutching at her collar. "Lost my iron piece… hurts. Spell's messing with my head. Like being torn in two. Won't go back… but I need to. Can't! Ah!" She broke off, pressing her fists into her eyes. "It keeps getting worse!"
"It's all right." Anxiety pressed down upon all the other strains her body had gone through today, and Jemayne's voice shook. "It's all right, Cye, hang on. I can fix this." She looked around, her hands brushing automatically through the flattened grass. "I can find it. Just hold on." She just had to look for where the magic was warped, that's all. She tried to focus her mage-sight, tried to touch her magic. She felt so numb. Just one little thing. That's all… "I can find it." She found herself shaking with exhaustion when she tried to touch her magic, felt a cold sluggishness seep into her, as even that small effort sapped the remnants of her energy. I can't! I can't do this!
She staggered, and caught herself against a tree. Her voice was a whisper. "Hang on, Cye." She leaned into the rough dark, clenching her fists, and fighting the urge to break into exhausted tears. Please, someone help me! Oh, please!
The reply came as if the words had been spoken directly into her mind. :Don't worry. We're coming.:
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Jemayne sat, clutching the knife she had taken from the dead man. Maybe no one was coming. Maybe, tired as she was, she had hallucinated the voice. Maybe the voice was real. That didn't mean she could trust it. Her eyes flicked to the man still lying unconscious at the edge of the clearing. She had proof enough that not all magic-users were well-intentioned.
She stiffened, and jerked to her feet, as she heard noises approaching through the trees. Hand tight on the knife, she stood defensively over Cyerriah, still fighting her own internal battle.
A half-dozen people entered the clearing slowly, as if she were a skittish animal that might spook. Eyes taking in the two men, Cyerriah, the knife, they stopped carefully at the edge of the copse. She strained to keep her hand and voice steady, pointing with the knife. "Stay away!"
A tall young man, with dark hair spoke. Among his strange, dark-skinned companions, his familiar pale skin was almost comforting. "Easy, there. We're not going to hurt you. We want to help."
She almost snarled. "Says who?"
"I'm a wizard. My name is Mero Jenner."
She met his crystalline green eyes, so similar to those that another face had worn. Jemayne's lip curled. "Don't think that having Elven blood is going to recommend your character to me."
The man, Mero, actually chuckled. "Point taken. But if you like, you may examine my mind for yourself. You know how?"
She nodded, taken by surprise. When he made no move to retract his offer, she cautiously extended mental feelers towards his mind. He did not let her too deeply into mind, true, opening only the surface layer of thoughts to her, but she could read there friendliness, integrity, and honest good intentions. The relief was so great that the tears that had been threatening to fall almost broke through. Jemayne let the knife drop from her fingers.
"And, if you will allow?"
She nodded mutely, and lowered her own shields, feeling the light brush of his mind across hers as he assured himself of her own truthfulness, and reviewed the events of the last few hours. She was reminded of the sticky lump at the back of her head, and her overwhelming weariness. She found herself starting to sway, and he caught her arm. She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine and to let go, but the words never made it to her lips. Instead, she thoroughly discomfited her pride by passing out.
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My Immortal
by Evanescence
I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
You used to captivate me
By your resonating life
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along
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A/N: Phew! I didn't think I was going to finish. I had serious issues writing this chapter, plus I've been sooooo busy. Right now I have to run off and finish an application, study for a test, do my bio review, Auugh! But I got it done! ^_^ What'd you think? I hope you like it. Please review!!
Hey, ten points to anyone who spots the Wheel of Time quote, and names the char. ^_^ Heh heh, couldn't resist.
Review Responses:
Wizard116: Thanx! ^_^ Well, you'll find out next chapter. Hope you liked this one.
Pearl: Um, not sure exactly what you're referring to. I don't think their are any intentional resemblances. I worry sometimes that people will think Cye's a rip off of Rennati. She's not! Really! They actually have very different personalities. ^_^; But I do try to hold out on my readers as much as possible! Mwhahaha!
Nesuto: Yeah, I was kind of surprised when I went to upload the first chapter, and I couldn't find any other Halfblood fics. *Blinks.* I'm glad people actually read mine. ^_^
Rosethorn: Hm. I'm still using her right now, maybe you can ask her when I'm done! ^_~
And again, thank you much to all who reviewed. Makes my day!
C ya next week!
-Li