Post by Eurydice on May 26, 2007 23:30:24 GMT -5
((Immediately after Trilarese))
Someone, wielding a knife, his face bent close to her, frowning like thunder.
The door bursting open.
Vanir's voice.
She heard water running, somewhere nearby. Her clothes and hair were clinging to her oddly, damp and cold. She felt cold and vaguely numb all over, as if she had slept for ages. Her head was only now reluctantly ceasing its spinning, and her limbs only reluctantly obeyed her commands. Slowly forcing her eyes open, she looked around.
She was lying near the edge of a series of glittering pools and waterfalls that seemed to extend forever, an endless horizon of water in the dim light. Looking to one side, she saw the ground was some sort of pale blue stone, glittering in the weak gleam of twilight. Where was I? she thought, taking in the scenery with wonder. What was I doing?
The door bursting open...
Vanir's voice...
Frod...
She closed her eyes as the flood of memories washed over her. Frod, telling her that he'd come to care for her, placing his hand on hers, pulling her to him to hold a knife to her throat. Kissing her down by the ruins, out of nowhere. Telling her that he'd keep her safe. And she'd believed him.
A shadow fell across her, and she heard a familiar voice. "Maura?"
She opened her eyes and looked up at Bryant leaning over her, taking him in. In the dusky light and against the black leather that he wore, his face was pale as death. Maura didn't know whether to be relieved or still more frightened.
"Furon has let you go, it seems," he said quietly.
Maura tried weakly to pull herself into a sitting position. "How did I get here?" she asked hoarsely.
"I brought you here." Bryant looked towards the pools. "One of the spirits told me you had been poisoned by an Imperial assassin. What happened?"
She was still clumsily trying to sit up, and trying, just as clumsily, to turn the jumble of memories into coherent thoughts. She searched his face for any sign of being glad to see her or being pleased she was alive, but she found nothing there that she trusted. "Froderic..." she started, brow furrowed. "He put something in the food, but I saw him do it... and... he held a knife to me." She closed her eyes, mouth taut. After a moment, she continued shakily, words tumbling from her mouth faster and faster. "Wanted to know why I'd killed his brother, who I was working for. And then... then she appeared... the lady... and said I was working for her... and somewhere in there, the knife slipped and cut into my throat, and all of a sudden I couldn't move, just fell over on the floor and couldn't move... and... and I don't remember..."
He looked on, cold and expressionless. "The poison was fast acting. I do not know why the spirit called my attention to your plight, but you would have died if it had not." He paused, thinking a moment. "Froderic....that is not a name I know. Why did he accuse you of killing his brother?"
Maura looked down for what felt like an eternity. "Because I did," she said finally, quietly, her voice heavy with guilt and unhappiness.
A hint of an expression ghosted across Bryant's face-- amusement? annoyance?-- but it was gone before Maura could even really register its being there.
"How did you kill his brother?"
There was a heavy silence again. When Maura spoke now, her voice was flat, lifeless, as if she were reluctantly reciting a few lines she'd been forced to memorize. "It was when Aethmyr came to the court and attacked Lord Thanasis. The guards ran up to stop Aethmyr, and I thought... I thought, 'I can stop them before they get there...' But then he stopped them anyway. But she was there, then, I could feel her behind me, and she was... smiling, like she was thinking, 'Yes. You could. And you should.' And then..." She paused, biting her lip. "Then Theuric, Frod's brother, tried to attack him too, and I didn't even think about it; something in me just lashed out at him, at Theuric, and..." She broke off again, abruptly, looking down.
Bryant was nodding slowly. "Aethmyr mentioned he met you. Had quite a bit to say to me on the subject, though that part was left out. The girl you keep mentioning..." He was looking at her intently now. "She looks like Angelina, yes?"
The girl nodded mutely, her face blank.
"I don't know who or what you are seeing, but I doubt it is her. Aethmyr would have noticed her presence."
She wished he sounded more sure of that.
"Still," he continued, "you need to learn how to handle your gifts, to make sure no one else dies at your whims." He smiled slightly, grimly. "And to make sure other assassins think twice before attacking you."
Once a failure, always a failure, Maura thought miserably, nodding. "I'll try harder."
"No," said Bryant. "You'll learn to control it. And before you go back. Come, we cannot linger here too long."
He stood and extended a gloved hand to help her to her feet. She took the proffered hand immediately, but her focus was still in watching his face, wary. "Where are we going?" she said, or rather started to say, for as she touched his hand, the pools melted away from the landscape and turned into the entry hall of a castle, adorned in blue and silver tapestries, an unfamiliar crest above the silver double doors.
"Home. Such as any place is in Morabrenin."
Her hurt and unhappiness forgotten, Maura gazed about with unabashed curiosity. "What is this place? What are we doing here?"
Bryant was nodding her towards a small silver door on one side of the hallway. "Most of the dream is unstable. This is a safe place, where few come in this age. We can stay here for a bit, until you have learned what is necessary."
She trotted after him obediently, staring around in awe. "And you'll teach me?" she asked, daring to be hopeful.
He nodded, with what could have been a smile or a grimace; Maura wasn't sure. "I am surprisingly well versed in the art... in the way only a hopeless student with a very determined teacher can be, I suppose." He paused, a hand on the door handle. "What do you know of swordplay?"
Swordplay... She stared, curious and even more hopeful. "Nothing."
He chuckled. "Then you will learn to use the blade of the north as well." He pulled the door open, gesturing for her to follow. "No daughter of mine should ever be without a sword"
Maura, nervous and excited beyond measure, followed.
The hallway before them was lined with doors; Bryant paused at some of them, pointing out a library, a practice yard, and passed over others. Near the end of the hallway, he opened the door to a room for her to use, decorated in blue, black, and silver, bearing the same unfamiliar crest: a silver wolf on a black field circled by blue stars. She paused by it and looked at her father questioningly.
"What does the wolf signify?"
"House Mordrellyn."
She looked back at the wolf, straightening a little, standing more proudly. As she stood there, staring at it, her mind, racing with hope and excitement, a question pushed its way into her head and she frowned, looking a little skeptical. "How long will it take me to learn all of this?"
Bryant watched her inscrutably. "I do not know. That depends on how fast you catch on, though we should not have to fear distractions, for the most part. There are few of us left who wander this realm at will." He paused, thinking, and added, "Though I must warn you that many will touch on this place unintentionally in their dreams. Shades and memories will pass through here without warning....it can be disconcerting, if one is not used to it."
"I'll get used to it," said Maura stubbornly, her head held high, resolute.
Her father nodded. "I'll leave you to rest, then. We'll begin working when the hourglass upon your table empties." He turned to leave but paused before he crossed the threshold, looking back at her.
"And do not concern yourself with the assassin's brother. Had you not killed him, Aethmyr would have. And Aethmyr would have made him suffer."
Maura stared at him in silence, stared after him after him as he left, stayed there staring for a long time after he was gone, thinking about everything that had happened in the last month, the friends she'd made, the mistakes she'd made, the blessings she hadn't appreciated, the people she'd harmed; she thought about Frod's face bent close to her, frowning like thunder, the sound of the door bursting open, and Vanir's voice.
Someone, wielding a knife, his face bent close to her, frowning like thunder.
The door bursting open.
Vanir's voice.
She heard water running, somewhere nearby. Her clothes and hair were clinging to her oddly, damp and cold. She felt cold and vaguely numb all over, as if she had slept for ages. Her head was only now reluctantly ceasing its spinning, and her limbs only reluctantly obeyed her commands. Slowly forcing her eyes open, she looked around.
She was lying near the edge of a series of glittering pools and waterfalls that seemed to extend forever, an endless horizon of water in the dim light. Looking to one side, she saw the ground was some sort of pale blue stone, glittering in the weak gleam of twilight. Where was I? she thought, taking in the scenery with wonder. What was I doing?
The door bursting open...
Vanir's voice...
Frod...
She closed her eyes as the flood of memories washed over her. Frod, telling her that he'd come to care for her, placing his hand on hers, pulling her to him to hold a knife to her throat. Kissing her down by the ruins, out of nowhere. Telling her that he'd keep her safe. And she'd believed him.
A shadow fell across her, and she heard a familiar voice. "Maura?"
She opened her eyes and looked up at Bryant leaning over her, taking him in. In the dusky light and against the black leather that he wore, his face was pale as death. Maura didn't know whether to be relieved or still more frightened.
"Furon has let you go, it seems," he said quietly.
Maura tried weakly to pull herself into a sitting position. "How did I get here?" she asked hoarsely.
"I brought you here." Bryant looked towards the pools. "One of the spirits told me you had been poisoned by an Imperial assassin. What happened?"
She was still clumsily trying to sit up, and trying, just as clumsily, to turn the jumble of memories into coherent thoughts. She searched his face for any sign of being glad to see her or being pleased she was alive, but she found nothing there that she trusted. "Froderic..." she started, brow furrowed. "He put something in the food, but I saw him do it... and... he held a knife to me." She closed her eyes, mouth taut. After a moment, she continued shakily, words tumbling from her mouth faster and faster. "Wanted to know why I'd killed his brother, who I was working for. And then... then she appeared... the lady... and said I was working for her... and somewhere in there, the knife slipped and cut into my throat, and all of a sudden I couldn't move, just fell over on the floor and couldn't move... and... and I don't remember..."
He looked on, cold and expressionless. "The poison was fast acting. I do not know why the spirit called my attention to your plight, but you would have died if it had not." He paused, thinking a moment. "Froderic....that is not a name I know. Why did he accuse you of killing his brother?"
Maura looked down for what felt like an eternity. "Because I did," she said finally, quietly, her voice heavy with guilt and unhappiness.
A hint of an expression ghosted across Bryant's face-- amusement? annoyance?-- but it was gone before Maura could even really register its being there.
"How did you kill his brother?"
There was a heavy silence again. When Maura spoke now, her voice was flat, lifeless, as if she were reluctantly reciting a few lines she'd been forced to memorize. "It was when Aethmyr came to the court and attacked Lord Thanasis. The guards ran up to stop Aethmyr, and I thought... I thought, 'I can stop them before they get there...' But then he stopped them anyway. But she was there, then, I could feel her behind me, and she was... smiling, like she was thinking, 'Yes. You could. And you should.' And then..." She paused, biting her lip. "Then Theuric, Frod's brother, tried to attack him too, and I didn't even think about it; something in me just lashed out at him, at Theuric, and..." She broke off again, abruptly, looking down.
Bryant was nodding slowly. "Aethmyr mentioned he met you. Had quite a bit to say to me on the subject, though that part was left out. The girl you keep mentioning..." He was looking at her intently now. "She looks like Angelina, yes?"
The girl nodded mutely, her face blank.
"I don't know who or what you are seeing, but I doubt it is her. Aethmyr would have noticed her presence."
She wished he sounded more sure of that.
"Still," he continued, "you need to learn how to handle your gifts, to make sure no one else dies at your whims." He smiled slightly, grimly. "And to make sure other assassins think twice before attacking you."
Once a failure, always a failure, Maura thought miserably, nodding. "I'll try harder."
"No," said Bryant. "You'll learn to control it. And before you go back. Come, we cannot linger here too long."
He stood and extended a gloved hand to help her to her feet. She took the proffered hand immediately, but her focus was still in watching his face, wary. "Where are we going?" she said, or rather started to say, for as she touched his hand, the pools melted away from the landscape and turned into the entry hall of a castle, adorned in blue and silver tapestries, an unfamiliar crest above the silver double doors.
"Home. Such as any place is in Morabrenin."
Her hurt and unhappiness forgotten, Maura gazed about with unabashed curiosity. "What is this place? What are we doing here?"
Bryant was nodding her towards a small silver door on one side of the hallway. "Most of the dream is unstable. This is a safe place, where few come in this age. We can stay here for a bit, until you have learned what is necessary."
She trotted after him obediently, staring around in awe. "And you'll teach me?" she asked, daring to be hopeful.
He nodded, with what could have been a smile or a grimace; Maura wasn't sure. "I am surprisingly well versed in the art... in the way only a hopeless student with a very determined teacher can be, I suppose." He paused, a hand on the door handle. "What do you know of swordplay?"
Swordplay... She stared, curious and even more hopeful. "Nothing."
He chuckled. "Then you will learn to use the blade of the north as well." He pulled the door open, gesturing for her to follow. "No daughter of mine should ever be without a sword"
Maura, nervous and excited beyond measure, followed.
The hallway before them was lined with doors; Bryant paused at some of them, pointing out a library, a practice yard, and passed over others. Near the end of the hallway, he opened the door to a room for her to use, decorated in blue, black, and silver, bearing the same unfamiliar crest: a silver wolf on a black field circled by blue stars. She paused by it and looked at her father questioningly.
"What does the wolf signify?"
"House Mordrellyn."
She looked back at the wolf, straightening a little, standing more proudly. As she stood there, staring at it, her mind, racing with hope and excitement, a question pushed its way into her head and she frowned, looking a little skeptical. "How long will it take me to learn all of this?"
Bryant watched her inscrutably. "I do not know. That depends on how fast you catch on, though we should not have to fear distractions, for the most part. There are few of us left who wander this realm at will." He paused, thinking, and added, "Though I must warn you that many will touch on this place unintentionally in their dreams. Shades and memories will pass through here without warning....it can be disconcerting, if one is not used to it."
"I'll get used to it," said Maura stubbornly, her head held high, resolute.
Her father nodded. "I'll leave you to rest, then. We'll begin working when the hourglass upon your table empties." He turned to leave but paused before he crossed the threshold, looking back at her.
"And do not concern yourself with the assassin's brother. Had you not killed him, Aethmyr would have. And Aethmyr would have made him suffer."
Maura stared at him in silence, stared after him after him as he left, stayed there staring for a long time after he was gone, thinking about everything that had happened in the last month, the friends she'd made, the mistakes she'd made, the blessings she hadn't appreciated, the people she'd harmed; she thought about Frod's face bent close to her, frowning like thunder, the sound of the door bursting open, and Vanir's voice.