I am back from NaNoWriMo, and I won with 51,961 words on November 26, 2005! I am so INCREDIBLY happy right now, I decided to come write more LTM for you!
One has little to do with the other, but who cares, anyway?
On to the story!
And yes, Kenan is wearing a gi. Now shut up and at least thank me for not adding hakama, though I must say I was tempted. –grumble- Just leave me to my dreams, all right?
Muaha.
If anyone wants to know, the song Ruana's playing is 'Meet me on the Lea Rig.' The lea rig means in the afterlife. It's a metaphor or something…I dunno, it's a really pretty song, and it's appropriate to the situation, too. But as for how, you'll have to read and find out!
Kenan returned with a bandage on his left hand and haunted eyes. Kiril was there to welcome him back once he had reported, and for once shot no sally of banter at his friend. The slender redhead refused dinner, and the pair of them went to walk beside the Terilee.
"Bad?" asked the burly Kiril, his first query after whether or not Kenan had wanted dinner.
Kenan sat down on a log beside the river, shadowed blue-violet eyes watching the flow of water. "So easily does a corrupt man take control," he said, finally, rubbing his bandage absently.
Kiril sat beside his friend, the pair somewhat absurd-looking from a distance, one with a blacksmith's hulking build, the other short and more slender than most women. "Need an ear?" offered Kiril, wishing there was more he could give.
Kenan was silent for a long moment before he began.
"The details I received were vague, only what a pigeon could bring since there isn't a Herald stationed nearby. I was…unprepared. About two months ago, a Pelagir weirdling attacked the village and decimated nearly a quarter of the population, when a strange man showed up and killed it. So grateful were the people, they made him their lord, especially after he dispatched some bandits as well, who thought to strike in the villager's moment of weakness."
Kiril remained quiet, listening intently to Kenan. "Nevis-that was his name-took over the grandest house in the village. Since the owners had been killed, no one minded."
There was a long pause before Kenan spoke again. "Then Nevis started taking on 'servants' and sending them into the woods for a 'hunting lodge' he was supposedly building. First the young men, to allegedly build it, then young women to furnish it."
Kiril glanced from the river to Kenan, sending something deeper behind the 'supposedly.' Kenan too looked up briefly, and the look in his eyes chilled Kiril to the bone.
"There was no hunting lodge," said Kenan, finally, his voice bitter, "Nevis turned out to be in league with slavers. I traced one of the villagers with Farsight, and…" Kenan faltered, then his voice firmed again, "They were spirited away only a few miles from the village."
Kiril closed his eyes, hearing the grief in Kenan's tone. "I…started by going for the camp of slavers, to try and save the villagers trapped there, but their sentry-he screamed something, and when I got there…when I got there they were dead, throats slit."
Kiril's eyes snapped open in horror. "They-saw you?" he blurted, before he could stop himself, but his astonishment was well-founded; Kenan had been known in his Trainee days for the absolute silence of his walking. He had even managed to startle his own Companion once or twice, and since he had returned from the Rethwellan delegation, he had somehow become even more focused. There, he had learned not only a new language and sword-style, Kenan had undergone some sort of…well, Kiril could only describe it as a spiritual change, although he was at a loss as to what kind of change it had been.
Kenan's shoulders drooped. "I tried disguising myself as someone from the next village, but it turned out Nevis had a network of spies who spotted me reconnoitering with Kalena and sent a description. I was…too late to save the villagers, but when I returned, Nevis challenged me." The redhead was silent for another long moment. "I killed him," he said at last, bluntly, "His sword-skills were no match for mine; not even close. He never even scored a touch on me."
Kiril glanced at the bandage on Kenan's hand, but said nothing. He looked at the river for a long moment, then hesitantly put an arm around his friend's shoulders. Kenan leaned gratefully on him, trying not to remember the staring eyes of the dead villagers, accusing him silently of being too late.
"So," he said, with some forced levity, "What have you been doing? Have you seen Kamaria lately, and has she done the blindfold exercise yet?"
Kiril bit his lip, hard. "Um. This possibly isn't the best thing for you to hear right now," he said, trying to warn Kenan.
Kenan sat bolt-upright, shrugging carefully out from under Kiril's arm. He stared at Kiril intently, searching the blonde's face for any clue to what was going on. "What?" he demanded, "Tell me."
Kiril glanced away from Kenan. "Someone tried to assassinate Garethe," he said, flatly, "They put poison in some snacks for his eldest son's birthday. Kamaria ate them before anyone else got there."
Kenan swore in the language he alone in Valdemar knew, save possibly for some merchants, and said, "What was in them?"
Kiril chewed on his lip again. "False morel," he said, bracing himself. "The filling was almost pure-thank the gods, her younger brother, the one in Healer's Collegium, got there in time, and Alain and Sitara kept her sane."
Kenan sprang to his feet, right hand flying to the hilt of the sword that was not there. "Is there any clue to who did it?" he demanded, groping for a moment before remembering and settling for balling his hands into fists, "When did this happen? Is she all right? That's poison, but it hits Farsight hardest-"
Kiril rose slowly, spreading his big hands placatingly. "Yesterday in the late afternoon, Garethe's man-at-arms grabbed the closest Healer, who I'd been talking to, she's all right now, just confined to a bed for maybe a week and banned from using any Gift but Mindspeech, and that only with Alain and Sitara, for a while. I'm trusting Sitara to judge when it's ready again."
"But who did it?" asked Kenan, the haunted look in his eyes replaced with anger, "Have they found anyone-"
"No one," replied Kiril, "I went in and asked Kamaria about it this morning, but she said all that the page said was, 'These are for General Chantrea.' We interviewed the page himself, and he said he was just handed the tray and told to deliver it from one of the noble's cooks, he doesn't remember which."
Kenan whirled away from Kiril to pace several steps, only to pace back, expending some nervous energy before stopping and standing dead still, staring into the river with the preoccupied expression that signified him conferring with his Companion. After a long moment, he looked back at Kiril.
"I want to see her," he said, appearing to relax, but Kiril, who had known Kenan for years, after all, knew better. The set of Kenan's shoulders spoke volumes to anyone who had been his friend long enough.
"Well, let's go," said Kiril, knowing there was no stopping Kenan in this mood, "This way."
Kiril noted his friend's stride as Kenan fell in step beside him, which spoke even more than the set of his shoulders. The slight change in focus and balance said that Kenan was ready for an attack from any direction-and that the redhead was absolutely furious, not to mention worried.
Kiril shook his head slightly to himself and hoped Kamaria wasn't busy.
Kamaria studied the board set at the side of her bed with a frown, considering her next move as Garethe leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. She had played the other Trainees and beat them every time at hinds and hounds; however, she had not played against her father in a good long while and even though she was playing the hounds, could not see a way out of the trap he had maneuvered her into.
Finally she moved a piece, more to see if her father's next move would provide her with something she could do than out of any real strategy of her own, and bit back a curse as Garethe pounced with a triumphant grin.
"You know, you might let me win sometime, I'm the one in the sickbed," Kamaria said reprovingly as Garethe swept the pieces off the board into one of his hands.
"But how ever would you improve?" asked her father, arching an eyebrow with a fond smile.
Kamaria shrugged against her pillow. "Well, it might make me feel better," she said, following the conversation for no particular reason.
"Well, would you rather win against me on your own merit, or know I'd let you win?" pointed out Garethe, with impeccable logic.
"You have a point, as always," said Kamaria, with a sigh. "Another game?"
"Of course, of course," said Garethe, grinning wickedly and beginning to set up the board again, "Provided that you drink that rather nasty-looking tea the Healers left you. Don't think I haven't seen you trying to avoid it."
Kamaria groaned. "Do I have to?" she pleaded, knowing even before her father answered that it was useless.
Before Garethe answered, someone knocked once on the door and pushed it open, and Kenan came into the room. Kamaria looked at him with some surprise. "Back already?" she said, "I didn't expect you to return so soon?"
Kiril entered behind Kenan as Garethe hastily stood, and Kamaria noted a brief flash of something in her teacher's eyes that vanished before she even registered what it was.
"Are you all right?" demanded Kenan, giving the lie to his calm face.
Then again, thought Kamaria, From what I've seen of him, the more upset he is about something really serious, the more focused he becomes.
"As well as I can be in the circumstances," she said with a sigh, "I am afraid that I am confined here to languish in my solitude, with naught but hinds and hounds to entertain me."
To her concern, Kenan's lips did not so much as twitch in a smile, though Kiril gave a brief, muffled snort of laughter. Instead, the red-haired Herald, who was not wearing Whites today, Kamaria noticed with a start, turned to Garethe.
Kamaria briefly wondered who on earth would design a garment with that wide of sleeves. The…shirt Kenan was wearing was dark blue, and did not appear to have buttons or ties on it, instead tucking into the front of his breeches. Kamaria puzzled for a moment again over the incredibly wide sleeves, which she saw would hang to Kenan's waist if he stretched his arm out, before returning her attention to the conversation.
"…any idea who, sir?" Kenan was saying, in a quiet, but urgent tone. "You must at least-"
Garethe spread his hands in frustration, cutting the younger man off. "Herald, I have racked my brains day and night but have come only to the conclusion that it is either someone from out of the country or some noble I have given an imagined slight to. The wording of the message makes it clear, though, that they are either after or angry at my capacity as General; so that narrows it a very little."
Kenan looked as frustrated as before, running a hand through the wisps that had escaped his ponytail.
Kiril and Kamaria exchanged a look as Kenan muttered something else in the tongue he alone understood and Garethe sighed heavily.
:Kenan's back, Chos-oh. I see he's here already: said Sitara, abruptly, poking her head through the window. :Do give him my regards.:
"Sitara says hello, Kenan," said Kamaria, automatically.
The Herald waved absently through the window. "How are you feeling?" he asked, further showing he was agitated by repeating himself, "Any…are you hallucinating at all?"
Kamaria shook her head carefully. "None," she replied, "Weird, weird dreams, though, when I started dreaming again."
"Probably that tea," said Kiril, glancing at the cup on the bedside table, "I've had that stuff before. I had this one where a bird covered in scales was ice skating in a fishbowl while I was making a treaty between a giant beetle and this thing with three heads."
Kamaria was interested in spite of herself. "One of mine had this really beautiful butterfly frozen in ice," she replied, ignoring Kenan's frustrated hand motion for the moment, "It was blue. I decided it would make a really good painting, if I knew how to paint, that is."
"But nothing else?" Kenan interrupted, impatiently, "How's the Mindspeech? Have you tried-"
"I've only used Mindspeech limitedly," said Kamaria, patiently, "Kiril told me not to use the others at all for a while."
Kenan nodded distractedly. "Probably best," he muttered under his breath. Garethe looked faintly confused, and Kamaria gave a smile to her father.
"I know this is changing the topic, but what on earth is that…shirt?" Kamaria blurted, finally, unable to satisfy her curiosity.
Kenan glanced down at himself. "This?" he said, raising an arm distractedly, and the sleeve did indeed fall to his waist, it was so wide, "It's called a gi. People in Nihon wear them, mostly men, but women when they do heavy work. I like them. Has she been jumping from topic to topic all day?" he asked, turning to Garethe.
I jump from topic to topic? Me? thought Kamaria incredulously at Kenan's fast switch.
Garethe glanced at Kamaria and thought for a moment. "Not much," he said, finally, "She has a little, but then, we have been playing hinds and hounds and those conversations tend to skip a little anyway, since you have so long to think between moves. At least, how she plays." He grinned at Kamaria, who stuck her tongue out at him.
Her facetiousness was immediately cut off, however, when a bell began to toll, and both Kiril and Kenan went absolutely ashen.
Kamaria felt a strange pang inside her, though it was somewhat distant, as if part of herself had been ripped away. She glanced at Sitara for an explanation, only to find the Companion staring in the direction of the bell.
-oh, thought Kamaria, the Death Bell.
With the realization came further pain, and Kamaria bit her lip as she tried to gain a 'sense' of who it had been.
"Jani," said Kiril, painfully, "Oh, gods, Jani-"
Kenan bowed his head and placed a hand on Kiril's arm.
"What is it?" murmured Garethe, moving to crouch beside his daughter and speaking below the hearing range of the distracted Heralds.
Kamaria glanced at Sitara again, and the Companion said, at the questioning Sending Kamaria gave her, :Herald Jani and Companion Darlene. Dead in a rockslide.: The grief was unmistakable in her tone. :She was…she was one of Kiril and Kenan's year-mates, one of their best friends.:
Kamaria relayed this to Garethe under her breath, and Kenan murmured something to Kiril in a tone too quiet for either Chantrea to hear, placing a hand gently on Kiril's shoulder.
Without another word, both Heralds left the room
The word spread via the Companions that the memorial would be held that evening, at the pillar which bore the names of every Herald and Companion to sacrifice themselves for Valdemar. Soon after the Bell tolled, Alain came into Kamaria's room, eyes shadowed.
Of course-it's a stronger feeling to those who've been Chosen longer, Kamaria thought as she managed to lever herself into a sitting position. Kamaria had only been in the Heraldic Circle for a few months, whereas Alain had been here for three years. Wordlessly, she opened her arms to her lifebonded, and her father quietly absented himself from the room.
Alain sank onto the bed and leaned into Kamaria's embrace. Kamaria was incredibly glad for the support of the headboard behind her; she would have collapsed, else. "Are you all right?" she asked, after a few moments, realizing fully that this was a stupid question as soon as she asked it.
:This is the first time I've felt it so strongly, Alain said through Mindspeech, clearly not trusting his voice, :Oh, gods-Kamaria, I felt her die, her Companion was hit in the head with a rock and-:
"Shh, shh," murmured Kamaria, not really wanting to hear the details and shifting Alain's head into a more comfortable position on her shoulder. "It's all right, I'm still here, it's all right."
Alain's arms slowly curled around her and clutched at her nightshirt, and although he was soundless, Kamaria felt the telltale moisture on her shoulder that told her he was trying to stop himself from crying and failing.
:Sitara, can you get Ramya? she Sent to her Companion, who tossed her head outside the window and trotted off, her hooves softly chiming. Kamaria continued to murmur quiet reassurances to Alain, suddenly glad she was not so sensitive to the Bell yet.
Several minutes passed, in which Alain curled his legs up onto Kamaria's bed and allowed himself to give in to tears, and Ramya poked her head through the window. Alain didn't raise his head, but Kamaria could sense a conversation between the pair.
Finally, Alain raised his head, sniffling, his eyes red. Kamaria groped in the drawer beside her bed and handed him a handkerchief.
"Do you want to go to the memorial?" she asked, gently, as Alain wiped his eyes and blew his nose a few times.
"Yes," he replied, his voice still thick, and swallowed. "Yes…it would be the right thing to do."
Kamaria looked him up and down and opened herself a little further, Sensing the feelings behind the words.
"Then like hell am I letting you go alone," she said, decisively, "I'm coming with you."
Alain stared at her. "But-you're not allowed to leave the bed-" he began weakly, but the flood of relief from his mind to hers gave it away. Kamaria waved away his protest.
"They left some Grays in here," she said instead, "If you'll hold me up, I'll get them on, and Sitara can get me there."
It took nearly half a candlemark for Kamaria to get her clothes on, even with Alain's help. True to his sense of honor, Alain held his eyes closed as he propped Kamaria up, holding most of her weight as she slid into her breeches. By the time she got her tunic on, she was so tired she could hardly manage the lacings, but she hid her weakness behind her best indifferent mask and managed to shove her feet into the half-boots left under the bed of every room in Healer's.
Alain took almost all of her weight as they went down the hall, but the sense of relief that he didn't have to go to the memorial alone radiated almost palpably down their link, and Kamaria dredged up some strength from somewhere to keep her feet moving.
As soon as they stepped out of Healer's Collegium, somehow managing to avoid any Healers in the halls who would make Kamaria go back, Sitara stepped forward.
She took one look at her Chosen and said, privately, :I'm more than half tempted to force you straight back to bed, whether or not you want to attend this memorial.:
Kamaria leveled a look at her Companion. :It's not about what I want; Alain needs me there. I'm not about to abandon him.:
:True, acceded Sitara, and lay down in the middle of the path.
Alain helped Kamaria to mount, and stayed on one side to steady her as Kamaria clutched Sitara's mane with fingers gone nearly numb from exhaustion.
Step by step, they made their way to the pillar, where thankfully, there were benches set up. Kamaria more than half-fell off Sitara, and Alain hastily guided her to the nearest bench, where she collapsed into a sitting position, breathing hard and quivering with tiredness.
A sidelong glance at Alain, and a brief brush of his mind to confirm his still-raw feelings, prompted Kamaria to do a few breathing exercises and sit still, if not straight. She composed herself and did her best to look as though she were all right, lacing her fingers comfortingly through Alain's.
The benches slowly filled, and Kamaria spotted Kenan and Kiril sitting beside a dark-haired woman Kamaria knew by sight as a Herald-Courier.
:That's their other year-mate, Rosaleen, said Sitara unexpectedly into Kamaria's mind, :…well, their only remaining year-mate.: The Companion's words were overlaid with sorrow. :There's only the three of them from their year left, she explained, when Kamaria Sent a feeling of a raised eyebrow towards her.
Just then, Dean Nessa stepped to the podium and began to speak. Distantly, Kamaria noticed that her eyes were red with weeping, but her voice was steady enough.
It was a short memorial; meaningful, without any long speeches attached. Several Heralds said a few words, mostly those who had known Jani best, and there was a short telling of how the Herald had halted a feud between two religious sects in the North of Valdemar single-handedly by a Bard. Finally, the last speaker, Herald Rosaleen, stepped away and returned to her seat beside Kiril, and a harpist began to play.
To Kamaria's surprise when she peered around the heads of those in front of her to see who it was, it was her friend Ruana, head bowed as her fingers glided up and down the strings of her instrument.
Thanks to the lecture Ruana had treated her to the day she'd met her, Kamaria was able to recognize the style as from Southern Valdemar. However, this piece was different than the others the Bardic Trainee had played for her before-where one had been cheerful and one lonely, this was sad, but somehow…comforting.
There was sorrow in the song, but within it was reassurance and comfort, an impression that although sadness was overlaying life at the moment, hope would nevertheless break through and bring light again.
The song was enough to bring tears to Kamaria's own eyes, and Alain was openly weeping this time, but this time the tears weren't necessarily a bad thing. Ruana played with feeling, no doubt using Bardic Gift to enhance the performance, but it somehow brought consolation.
The song finished too soon, and Kamaria sighed through her tears as the last chord sang out, before dwindling and at last, stilling.
This finished the service; most people scattered, and Kamaria saw more than one Trainee and Herald joining their Companions and disappearing onto the paths around the pillar.
Alain dried his eyes and said, hoarsely, "We should get you back." Kamaria nodded, and looped an arm around his shoulders as Alain hefted her up.
Unfortunately, it seemed that expressing his grief had tired Alain; either that or more than half-carrying Kamaria down had drained him. Kamaria tried to spare him as much as she could, but her legs were wobbling dangerously even before she cleared the bench.
"What on earth are you doing out of bed?" demanded a voice from in front of them. Kamaria looked up, startled, only to see Herald Jasen standing in front of them, hands on hips as he looked sternly down at her.
"I-wanted to come," Kamaria said, each word costing her. She tilted her head meaningfully towards Alain.
Jasen shook his head. "You shouldn't have," he said, "Look at you; Kamaria, you can barely stand even with help."
"But-" Kamaria began weakly, only to realize that protestation was useless. She sighed and looked down at her feet, instead concentrating on not blacking out from exhaustion.
"Well, I can't just leave you here," Jasen said, and the next thing Kamaria knew she had been picked up. She hesitantly looped an arm around the Heir's neck as he shifted her and looked sternly at Alain. "Trainee, off to bed," he said, "Morning classes are canceled tomorrow; go sleep. It'll help."
Alain nodded mutely and, reaching forward, squeezed Kamaria's hand before he turned to Ramya, who had paced up behind him.
Sitara materialized beside Jasen as the Heir walked down the paths, tossing her head nervously. :I shouldn't have let you go, look at you! she scolded as Kamaria realized the true extent of her exhaustion, :You'll never hear the end of it from your brother or the Healers. Kamaria, until you've got your strength back I will not let you out of Healer's Collegium unless the building is burning down!
Kamaria sighed meekly. At a questioning glance from Jasen, she explained, "Sitara's giving me an earful. I really shouldn't have done this-"
Is that my voice? she wondered, hearing the thin tone emitting from her throat. I think I overdid it.
Kamaria didn't even remember when Jasen set her back into her bed, removing her half-boots and veering her with the blankets.
Well, there was a chapter, hope you liked! Whew, I'm tired-sorry this took so long, the teachers are loading us down with homework right before Break!
ChaosLightning13: No, the author's name doesn't start with a K.
Gemma: Unlikely. Of course, if there's fanart for the novel I would go O.o and probably give people walk-ons…hey, that's not a bad idea!
Mad-4-Manga: Your review scared me. Hopefully you liked this new chapter! –meeps- And I swear the first bit's being rewritten! Here's more! Here's more!
ATTENTION ONE AND ALL!
I got an idea while responding to a review: if people think this is a good idea, I will give people walk-on characters if they do a fanart (fanfanart?) for LTM! They probably won't appear for very long, but I'd do it!
…anyone think this is worthwhile?
Till next time, happy holidays!