Here's the new chappie, thanks keacdragon for the deadline! :)
Note: This will be upped to a T rating, I've decided. The minor gory description here might not present a good image for little kids. Who would randomly be reading this… XD And I think it might just get worse after this, but nothing sexual or anything –just violence! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon. But then again, I don't own Coca Cola, so maybe you have to be a wealthy businessperson to get ahold of it… And I'm broke.
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The night is cold, heavy with the threat of rain and near to bursting with smothering darkness; Jane glances up as a tendril of the slippery air snags her cloak with icy fingers, and her shoulders sag at the sight of the shadowy clouds filling the sky.
Why? She thinks exasperatedly, as her numb fingers tug the loose bit of cloth back about her thin frame. It is not fair that just as I choose to leave, it gets rainy. I mean really, I have enough on my plate without another storm…
Her brow furrows in annoyance as she treads across the dewy grass, a light blush warming her face for a moment as she stumbles in an unseen rut.
And now they place the makeshift "stables" in a place no one can find… Jane thinks irritably, and the pucker of a scowl between her brows deepens slightly.
She continues on, though, her gaze flicking back and forth from the choppy grass to the silent carts; no one is supposed to know that her stay with the Gypsies has come to such an abrupt end that no one should know that it's been terminated. The carts are dark, luckily; no light shines in the slats of the shuttered windows, no sounds are heard from behind the rickety doors and no barks issue from the dogs guarding them. All is silent and still, awaiting the inevitable storm with smothered breaths.
Jane scowls into her cloak as she considers the day's events with the air of an accomplished observer. Their carelessness is infuriating, she decides at last, I mean, just picking up weapons from whoever leaves them near a camp? And then keeping them? It does not make sense –even my sword brings unwanted attention… the cloak smells like horse, and with a little sniff of distaste Jane jerks her head up so as to breathe in the wet air instead. Annamaria made such a big deal about it all, one would have thought there was some sort of huge connection to these Dragon Slayers. And then she goes and says, "It is nothing, we just pick up whatever we find and use it without question." Has she any idea how dangerous that is?
The squire raises her head higher, as the amount of carts at long last begins to thin out and leave a path clear to the post where all the unused horse are kept. They are bundled together, a large, noisy mass of animals with no clear distinction between the beginning of one horse and the end of another; the only way to distinguish them is to walk around and observe their faces, which Jane does with far less enthusiasm than necessary.
At least by leaving I can keep them all safe, Jane thinks, her exasperated mood slowly slipping from her grasp as she wanders along the row of well-fed horses. Even if Beppe will not understand…
A little twinge of regret slices through her body, but Jane shrugs it off almost immediately as Dragon's sickly face pushes Beppe's from the front of her mind. He will have to try, is all she can tell herself, reaching for the reins of Tess's bridle as she comes across her faithful ride standing calmly in the middle of the row. He just has to…
Tess looks comfortable. Her mane has been brushed, the once-stringy hairs now soft and silky under Jane's hand; her tack has been oiled as well, and as the squire untangles the reins from the wooden post and leads her ride around the other horses she lets a tight smile tug at her pale lips. The Gypsies are kind, if a little scatterbrained…
With a little grunt Jane flings the pack over Tess's rump, fingers fumbling slightly as she tightens the straps and adjusts the stirrups again to fit her. The silky leather slips through her hands, and a curse echoes loudly within the squire's head as she alters the saddle once again. At last it slips into place with a click, and Jane grins in triumph.
"Finally," she mutters, and her fingers slide once more over the saddle and stirrups, checking for loose straps or tickling buckles; nothing shows itself, though, and suddenly Jane's hands come to the end of the line –she's checked every bit of tack, all in the space of five minutes, and yet she lingers. The stifling night does nothing to help her contemplation.
Maybe I should have let them know I was leaving… she thinks nervously, but her body refuses to obey her mind and suddenly her foot is in the stirrup, her body in the saddle, and the reins in her icy hands; heels dig into Tess's sides, and in a cloud of wet earth that splatters up against her boot leg the two take off into the dark, racing past the temporary Gypsy territory and out into the road.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
The sun is rising at long last, its watery golden fingers tugging insistently at Jane's sagging eyelids and forcing them to open reluctantly; a yawn issues from her mouth, stretching and pulling her lips into a warped silent scream. She is exhausted.
"Good girl, Tess," the squire mumbles incoherently, patting her horse's side with a weak hand. The night has passed without incident, and though practically all Jane can do is thank the heavens that no dagger-wielding assassin has taken advantage of her fatigue, her body has tensed at last after a hard night's riding; she has the vague sense that half of it was spent galloping through unfamiliar countryside along a road that, now that she looks down, has narrowed to little more than a path between the thick towering trees surrounding her. It's a miracle that the sun can even manage to penetrate the grasping branches as they interlace their leaves to create something of a canopy above Jane's head. Once again, the squire realizes with a jolt that sends her eyes wide open for a moment, that she is alone, traveling one her own through a place she is not quite comfortable in –but then again, Jane is beginning to leave the little tingles of fear in the back of her head. There is no room for hesitancy or alarm anymore.
With another cautious glance around, Jane reaches behind her into her saddlebag and tugs from it the book's map, torn from the binding in a moment of haste and folded into a little yellowed square flaking at the corners –the bits of parchment flutter about in the gentle, cool wind as she opens it and stares intensely at the little images sketched within the haze of folds.
"Now, if I am correct we should be nearing Armswald…" Jane mutters contemplatively, her free hand trailing along the page until it comes to a rest at an image of a thick band of forest stretching up along the paper. "And as Armswald is a port city, we may be able to catch a ship to Aolim." She pauses for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as Tess treks tiredly through the foliage, her head and tail drooping. "But Aolim has that strip of land leading to the mainland. Mayhap we can simply ride along that to get across? But that is probably a three day journey… but the ship voyage would cost more…"
Her thoughts consume her like the sleep pushing at the corners of her eyes, willing her to think and figure a way out of the predicament without wasting any time. Dragon only has so long… she thinks fearfully –she has yet to actually voice the concerns swirling within her, threatening to burst out from her mouth as dry sobs or her eyes as wet tears.
That four, going on five, of the fourteen days have flitted away. That the book documenting the Night Curse is so old that the virus may have changed over time, may affect Dragon differently than those before him. That if Jane does not hurry up and find the cure that most likely went extinct long ago, her best friend –
Suddenly her head jerks around in a swirl of fiery hair. A sound is echoing through the sentry-like trees, loud and pained as a wounded, dying animal.
Jane freezes in the saddle; she can feel Tess tense up underneath her, unsure of whether to buck and flee or remain where she is and investigate. For a horse, she certainly knows what she's doing…
Again the cry sounds, and this time Jane can make out the distinguishing noise of a human voice. Her heart begins to race beneath her muddied cloak, pounding out a rhythm of the fear she so easily smothers and causing the cloth to rise slightly as her breathing picks up.
The sound is growing louder.
Tess's ears fall flat to the side of her head, and with a sudden jolt Jane kicks at the horse's sides in a desperate attempt to get her to take off in another rush of hooves and earth. But it's too late.
A figure staggers out from the nearby brush, wailing and calling like a madman, hands stretched out before him as he gropes blindly for something, anything to hold on to. Blood pools about his eyes, trickling down from once-golden locks in rivulets of crimson and staining the grey coat covering his skinny form a terrible color.
"Help," he whispers through dry lips, the screams dying in his throat as he senses Jane's terrified presence. "Please…"
And with that he keels over on to his face.
Jane lets loose a cry, tugging on Tess's reins even though the animal shies away from the limp body. She leaps from the saddle, her legs almost giving out after such a long ride and her head spinning with dizziness, but staggers over to the silent person and collapses onto her knees before him.
"Sir, sir!" she cries, pulling at the body and hoisting the face up onto her lap. With a shudder she takes in the mangled, bloodied face, with both old and new pus-oozing scars crisscrossing the high cheekbones and an empty eye socket staring eerily into her own green ones; but the back of the boy's –she is pretty sure it is a he now– head is almost worse. Jane can feel the torn skin, sharp skull, and remnants of soft hair against her knees, feel the bright liquid seeping through her leggings and staining her clothing and suppressing a shudder as the boy's remaining eye flutters open. It is a bright blue, intelligent and alert, and as Jane attempts to hoist the body up to her chest so as to better slide him onto the whinnying Tess it focuses on her smudged face. The boy smiles weakly, and more blood trickles from his cracked lips.
"Hello," he says weakly, his head lolling slightly. "You really need not bother helping me, though."
Jane blinks at him and continues to raise him up. "Why not?" she asks absentmindedly as she manages to stand on her knees and hold his distorted body to her chest. The boy coughs.
"I'm gonna die anyway," he chokes out softly, as another noise catches Jane's attention –more scrabbling sounds in the brush, the cacophony one of human feet. Are this victim's comrades on their way?
"No you are not!" she says by way of reply, pausing in her labor to listen closer to the sounds approaching them. Her argument is as weak as the boy's voice, but he ignores it.
"Listen to me," he mutters in her ear instead. "I wasn't done yet. The people you hear crashing through them trees? They're after me."
Jane feels her eyes widen, and with another burst of energy shoves upward so they are both standing. "What?" she gasps.
"I'm not jesting, they really-"
The bushes part behind them.
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Dun dun duuuuuun…XD I hope you enjoyed!
To LisaKatKaram: Thanks for your kind PM, I'd very much like to mail you back, but you disabled your PMing feature so that's why I haven't replied. Maybe you could un-block that feature…? Thanks^^.
Oooh, a review button! And you conveniently want to push it! :D