I'd like to warn anyone reading that there is a dream in here that is rated T for violence, I'm not sure if it's as bad as I seem to think, but I know I'd never let my little siblings read it and they're ten and 11 so... yeah. Just a warning too, it does have a refference to rape.
Deadly Healer
To Talim's surprise, the days went by steadily and Yung Seung did not appear in her path, nor did his footsteps haunt her travels. It seemed he had decided she was simply too much of a bother to chase.
She had left behind the shard he had had originally, deciding it best to at least leave him with some form of guidance.
The voice had said it, assuring her it was all right. You need not collect the shards in order to find the source, all you needed was one.
However that left Talim with the lingering problem that perhaps Yung Seung would find her, just because he too was following the shards directions.
Though, these thoughts grew fewer in number over the days, and her worries more basic. Solitude can make a heart either colder or softer... In Talim's case, the silence and company of the woodland was all she needed.
Long ago the bruises on her skin had healed, and the scratches inflicted by both Necrid's weapon and Yung Seung's sword, which she hadn't realized were there until after the battle, had healed over and left nothing but light scars.
Her ribs, although, were not doing so great...
The priestess stopped for the third time in the last hour, gasping, a hand on her stomach, the other on the nearby trunk of a large tree in order to stay standing.
The pain steadily clawing at her torso was beginning to get unbareable... She didn't understand how she had faught off Yung Seung with such a wound. After several days of constant pain she had finally inspected her own torso and found that she had indeed shattered two ribs, though it was a possibility that one had simply been fractured at first then shattered during her fight with the young warrior...
Groaning she lowered herself to the moss covered ground and sat there, panting with the effort of breathing.
This is ridiculous... I cannot go on like this, my body simply won't allow it...
And as always, when she was alone and thinking rapidly of her struggles the wind would pick up, whispering around her, worried like a mother.
Talim had grown used to it's appearance, knowing well who it was and why they were there. However, that did not change her cold dislike of it. She pretended as though the pressence was not there, unless orders or instructions were given... and those times were coming less and less.
Coldly, the Priestess flicked her wrist, as if shoving some unknown thing away from her face, though all that there was was the soft whisper of a breeze, carressing her cheek.
She lay her head back against the tree trunk, ignoring the waves of air dancing all around her.
What am I going to do? I can't even walk anymore, if I do I think I might pass out...
It's okay...
Talim sat up sharply, eyes narrowed at the voice who had not spoken for several days now... perhaps even a week.
I can help.
I don't want your help!
Anger erupted within her, exploding in her chest in a nearly painful manner. She hated it, hated the fact that she was nearly a puppet in the hands of some great being who thought she was supposed to follow orders...
Tears of pain and vexation welled in her eyes and she lay back again, listening to the silence, ignoring the still lingering breeze.
I must help.
The voice came back abruptly, making her sit up again, looking around at the dancing leafs but the otherwise empty woods.
Leave me alone... I'm doing what you want, what more do you need me to do?
Trust me. The voice said, as if ignoring her earlier comment. Talim's thoughts had hardly enough time to pull themselves together when the wind picked up, a tiny swirl of air beginning at her feet.
She frowned, staring at it, as it grew stronger, pulling at twigs and the branches of the trees.
Her breathing sped up slightly as she listened to the jingle of her jewellery moving along with the wind.
The miniature typhoon twirled like a dancer before her, discarding all mass other than air, throwing both rocks, and branches in all directions, as if cleansing itself.
The young priestess grunted softly, eyes wide and defensive as she pushed herself against the tree trunk in an attempt to stay back.
Wha- What are you doing!
Trust me.
It happened too fast for her to realize. The typhoon crashed into her, ripping the scream right out of her throat, throwing it up for all the woodland to hear.
Instinctively, the Priestess threw her arms around her head, gasping for air that was being pulled away from her by the swirling speed of the wind dancer before her.
With power she hadn't known was coming, she was lifted roughly off the ground and thrown forcefully against the tree trunk she had currently been resting against.
Pain of all kinds seemed to jump to attention along her body, forcing itself out as if by her scream.
The wind was so loud though, that nothing, not even her cry of pain reached her own ears over it's loud constant whispers, driving her mad.
The pain was spreading from her back to her torso and legs, burning. It was soon too much for her to hold on... and the darkness ate at the corners of her vision, blocking out the canopy of trees high above, leaving her in total blissful shadow...
The sun was setting in the distance, lowering into the waters of the harbour a long long ways away from the endless fields of grass spreading to the mountain side.
The haunting tune of children singing rode on the breeze, whispering.
A crow lifted offthe chinese maple tree that had for some unknown reason grown in the field, standing like a proud lord over the grass lands.
The bird's eerie 'caw' of dislike rode the breeze along with the whispering song of children's voices...laughing, crying...singing, screaming...
Talim stood on her hill, her blades bumping at her sides along with the rhythm of the haunting melody...and the breeze. She looked out over the grasslands at her people, working, laughing, living... Her mother stood by, laughing as children from the village rolled and tumbled down the grassy hill.
The Priestess stood silently by, feeling a knot of homesickness tug at her throat.
The haunting melody continued over the air, growing louder as the sun sunk deeper into the sea.
She heard it then, the sound that made her memory start as if jolted awake by an electric shock.
A scream, not a scream that followed the rhythm of the children's voices... another voice, a young voice in pain, screaming.
The priestess felt her entire enviroment shift, though she didn't move, the sky and the land seemed to switch places for a moment, then switched back, allowing her to see the scenerio before her.
It was darker on the other side of the hill, men were standing around in a circle, their dark heavy laugher battling with the voices of the young, and the screaming of the child.
She felt as though she could smell the spirits in their breath from where she stood, far away.
They were not village men, they were outsiders, traders... They had come and disrupted her home, enstilled her anger...
They had woken her sense for blood.
The child screamed again, but no one came. Talim felt her knees buckling beneath her, because she could not move, she could move to help her...
She fell, screaming wordlessly, the sound stolen from her voice.
The men kicked some more at the little pile of cloth that was the child, screaming, sobbing, bleeding.
The young priestess sobbed as well, watching it, her heart feeling as if torn from her body as the child was shoved to the ground by each man...touched, abused, damaged beyond repair.
There were so many...so many of them. The priestess felt sick, a sickness blooming from hate, a feeling she had never felt before.
Then she saw herself, running towards the scene. She saw her much younger self, ahead of the rest of the village, sprinting.
She crashed into the circle of men, her blades flashing by the red light of the setting sun.
Blood splashed in all directions, staining the grass, drenching the ground. Her screams of anger and hate rang along with the dying whimpers of the child, the painful shouts of the men, and the softly dying tune of the young voices singing...
Talim closed her eyes, wanting to block out the scene, but she couldn't. She watched herself tear each man's body to shreds, her weapons moving with more agility than she had ever had during a practise.
They were all dead, their faces distorted by her blades. The child was laying in grass along with them, hardly breathing. The younger Talim crumbled beside her, panting from her killings, and brought her to her chest, laying her head gently on her lap, whispering words of comfort, repeating over and over that she would be okay...
The child cried silent tears, her throat long ripped to shreds by her constant screams. And she shook her head, smiling truthfully.
Then she grew very still.
The priestess watching the entire thing began to scream as well, her own tears pouring down her face. She covered her face with her hands, trying to block out the image of the dead little girl's face, trying not to hear her own screams, her own sobs, but it was no use, she was falling, her soul cascading like water down into some dark hole where she wished she could go forever...
How had she, the Protector let a child be taken?
You did not know. But I can help, I will tell you, I will lead you, trust me.
There was nothing more she could do...
Darkness, it was everywhere, even though she had opened her eyes. It was night, deep night.
Silently, the Priestess reached up and touched her face to find her cheeks wet with tears.
Her ears were still ringing with the screams, the children singing. Sobbing softly, she buried her face in her arms, pulling her knees up to her chest.
It had been a long time since she had thought of the child... Since she had thought of her failure. No one at the village blamed her, the family of the child thanked her, for avenging the death, but Talim remembered feeling numb and unsatisfied by the burning bodies of the men.
She had been too mercifull, that was what she had thought. She had felt as though death was an escape... She had granted them the wish.
Sobbing still, the Priestess looked around slowly, trying to locate herself, but she knew not where she was. It was too dark to see. Sighing, she pushed herself up to her feet, deciding it best to move, to do something... she would continue through the night, it was probably for the best.
She stopped, suddenly realizing the extent of her movements. Looking down, she lifted her shirt up a bit to examine the bruise that should have been across her entire stomach.
However, the bruise was not there, nor was the pain. She stared at it for a long time, adding up the Goddess' interference.
Sighing, she decided to ignore it, and bent down to pick up her blades laying by her.
At least she could move, that was a blessing.
Still feeling like an emotional toranado had ripped her soul to shreds, she started away, rubbing the tears away.
The past was something that could not be changed, she would have to live with her failure, and make sure that it did not happen again...
Her thoughts were rather rudely interuptted by the shock of something long and hard connecting with her back, sending her tumbling to the ground.
She cried out sharply, doing a careful summersault onto her feet, her blades already up at the ready, however no one was there...
She looked around slowly, listening.
Her eyes flickered behind her sharply. There.
With a cry, she spun around and blocked a blow from a staff just in time before it collided with her body.
The bruise she was probably going to gain from the earlier attack was going to be long.
Growling with anger, she shoved the attacker away, annoyed at being unable to see well enough in the dark.
"What do you want?" she snapped, taking a step back.
She could see the outline in the moonlight, twirling the staff in agile hands.
"You sound young..." was the amused reply, and by the tone of voice, it was also a man.
The priestess frowned, rather irrated by the constant drifting towards her age. However the anger evaporated as she recalled her earlier dream... and how young she had failed.
Lowering her blades she stated in a rather dull voice.
"I don't wish to fight."
"Oh? That's a surprsie, you hardly hear that around here..." the man continued, lowering the staffa bit.
Talim looked at the ground, though her ears were still well aware of where he was.
"What is it you want?" she asked again.
"I heard crying... I thought I would check it out. As it so happens, you're the only one carrying a weapon in these parts, I figured you were the aggressor... but considering by your voice-"
"I didn't hurt anyone, I was the one crying." she replied calmly, hooking her blades to her belt.
The man cocked his head, still hiding in the shadows. "Why? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine..." Talim replied sullenly, starting to walk away, biting back a comment about the bruise spreading across her back.
Footsteps confirmed her fear of chase. He suddenly came up beside her, though a little away.
"I'm curious... What are you doing all alone here? Aren't you a bit young to-"
"Look, I kept you off while you attacked, I think I can handle myself." Talim replied, her voice was calm, her words were not.
There was a soft laugh. "That's a good point... Um... may I ask your name?"
The priestess stopped and turned to look at him squarely, finally catching his face by the moonlight. He seemed relatively young, however several years older than her.
"Talim." she replied shortly, wondering what it was that he could possibly want.
He nodded. "I see... Well, my name is Killik. Uh...sorry about that blow to your back, by the way." he added, his face turning a bit red, the sheepishness in his voice obvious.
Blinking mildly, Talim stared at him, a bit confused. She didn't often have conversations with men, as a matter of fact in the village she only ever spoke briefly to anyone outside of family. Therefore, she had little expirience with them... and comparing Yung Seung and Killik... the difference between attitudes was rather tremendous.
"It's okay." she replied, though it wasn't, her back was complaining.
Killik cocked his head at her again, in that funny way he seemed to study things. "You're tough for a kid. How old are you?"
Talim sighed softly, wondering once more why he was so interested. "15. I'm fifteen..." she replied.
"Where are you going at such a young age?" he asked, leaning on his staff casually, blinking at her with curious eyes.
Talim cocked an eyebrow at him slightly. "Aren't these beginning to sound like rather personal questions?" she enquired, turning right around and heading the opposite way in hopes of loosing him.
No such luck.
He followed, laughing. "Uh... yeah. I apologize. You don't need to answer if you don't want to."
"Hence why I didn't answer then." she replied, giving him a look. He smirked. "Witty aren't you?"
"Um...no? Just...careful."
"Why were you crying?"
Talim stopped, turning to look at him in confusion again. It had been a rather odd question thrown at her out of the blue. "What?"
"You said you were crying. I'm just wondering why." he replied, explaining carefully.
She just stared at him for a moment more, wondering what she could say. Finally she replied. "I'm sorry, I don't think I want to tell you that either."
He pretended to flinch. "Aww, all right..." he mumbled, following her as she walked.
"In which direction are you going?" she asked, stopping again to look at him.
He stopped, looked around quickly and said. "Uh... that way. Why?"
She turned to the opposite direction. "Because now I know where to go. Bye!" she ran off quickly, hearing him calling out after her.
"That was less than polite!"
"Forgive me!" she shouted back, disappearing into the dark.
Killik smirked after her, still curious. She was an odd one that was for sure. Shrugging it off, he turned and started the way he was actually supposed to be going. He'd bump into her again for sure... after all, she did carry a shard, he had seen it...
Sacharja: Thank you for your review and your advice, I appreciate it. Um, as for the action. I'm not so sure... I'm intending the story to be more of a drama than an action flick, and my style, though far from set is generally calm... Though, be assured, if I start with an action sequence it usually lasts about 10 pages... on my original stories anyway.
I didn't know that Raphael was insane, actually, so thanks for the heads up. I'll see how I'll work with an insane character...all my insane ones tend to lean towards the bad side, so this will be a learning expirience.
Um, about me writing 2 fics, max. Hehe, right now I am writing a grand total of about 12 stories all at once, counting the ones my friends ask me to write, my original stories and my fanfics... I just have this thing where if i concentrate on one story for too long, the creativeness of it dries up and I don't finish, so I kinda can't just work on two. I had it that way at the beginning of my fanfictions and as a result one of my fics died, so... yeah. I kinda cant do that...
Anyway, thanks for the review, I love to get advice, please keep sending it in.
Fire Team Torch: You know, aftter another reviewer suggested that I get them together in the fic, the story went the opposite way. i actually had it in mind that they might actually get all mushy sooner or later, but by the looks of it, they dun seem to wanna. Oh well, can't be helped, lol. But knowing my writing, sooner or later soemthing of the sort might end up happening. Thank ya for the review!
-White Scribe