Post by Eurydice on Apr 20, 2008 10:37:37 GMT -5
((One of my favorite Iviran stories of all times. Sarah, you break my heart; the last line of the penultimate section kills me every time.))
It was surreal. Kneeling on the ground like a penitent student, that was the only word Angie could find to describe the scene. He kneeled in front of her, the patient teacher, stenciling the runes of a transport spell into the dirt. Flames danced behind him, giving his torn gold gilded robes an unearthly sheen and quickly spoiling the air in the overgrown forest.
He stood, stiffly, finished with his work. His face was hard, anger and disappointment vying for control. “Use that. Get yourself out of here. We will continue this back at camp.”
Angie settled into a seated position, wary of her twisted ankle and cursing every piece of ash that floated near her eyes. Her position spoke of both defeat and stubbornness. She had nothing left with which to fight him, but she was making no move to follow his advice.
Thanasis watched her for only a moment before his already well-worn patience snapped. Grabbing her by the collar of her tunic, he lifted her from the ground, throwing her towards the transport circle. “Gods and Demons, when this night is though I am locking you away. After a sound beating and a night with the roughest infantrymen I can find.”
Angie landed hard, unable to catch herself on her bad ankle and surprised by the ferocity of his throw. For a moment, Thanasis thought he had knocked the wind out of her until he realized the low wheezing sound was exhausted laughter, barely supported. Slowly, Angie turned to face the circle, still prone on the ground. Glancing at him, she reached over and ran a finger through his carefully wrought runes, breaking the circle. “Why don’t you go keep the infantry warm, Thanasis? Their type is more to your liking than mine.”
Even in the glow of the fire, Angie could see the flush of anger on the man’s face. “Harlot. Vile words are to be my only reward for attempting to spare you some dignity? I will drag you into my spell, then, if you insist upon being so stubborn.”
Still laughing as best as she was able in the quickly drying air, Angie turned onto her back, giving up any attempt to sit or stand and face her nemesis. “Try it. I will fight you every inch of the way and it will kill me. Either way, I’m done.”
“Fine, Angelina. Burn, then. Go to Furan and know that there are special torments set aside for those who wrong Akaran.” Turning away from the girl, the man began to chant the words that would send him to safety, far from the reach of the quickly growing inferno.
Angie watched him vanish through half closed eyes, her half-hearted laughter leaving with him. “Bastard. You and your god both. Warn them, your Fire Lord and Sun God, that I am coming. I’ll show them the same cooperation I gave you…”
Coughing, Angie watched the flames arc over her, igniting the final trees in the clearing. Smoke rose into the sky, but enough of the dry grass around her had ignited to ensure her death. There would be no escape this time. Watching the branches above her burn, crackling and weakening, sending larger and larger pieces of flaming debris to the ground towards her, she muttered to herself softly.
“Sukaniya watch me and protect me. Death is only a pause, an intersection, a meeting of pathways. Sukaniya guide me to my next life…”
As the branches fell around her, she could vaguely hear her sister’s voice filling in as hers failed. “You will die three times...once to light, once to fire, once...”
* * *
It was like being struck by lightning and ice, the flash of blinding light and burning pain followed by a coldness that was merciful only in that, after the initial shock, numbness set in quickly. Disoriented, unsure if she was actually still conscious, the girl struggled to move, to respond, to find some sign that she was alive and still in command of her senses.
Nothing. She floated, blind, chilled, quickly slipping away. So much for her grand plan to thwart his ambition. She could still see him below her, his eyes full of malice and hate as he gave the order for the spell to commence. She would be purged, stripped of the ability to channel. He expected her to fight, lingering in agony for weeks until the inevitable occurred and she was overcome. Instead, she had allowed the spell to continue, using the momentum generated by the surge of power to teleport away, beyond his reach. Even if her fate was to die here, it was infinitely preferable to life as his plaything.
Here. Where was here? Some small part of her mind functioned enough to reason that the floating sensation she was feeling was not a common characteristic of dry land. At sea then. She would die entombed in the waves, blinded by the light of Thanasis’ insanity finally catching up with her.
The light. No, this was no hallucination, no visual echo of the Sun God’s touch. A crimson glow pulsed before her, growing in strength and intensity as her pulse weakened, a horribly mocking reflection of the nearness of death. She focused on it, aware that all other sensations were stubbornly slipping through her scrutiny. This light and this light alone was calling to her, demanding her attention.
The light condensed, solidified, taking on a vaguely human shape. Hands of flame reached out and cradled her face, spreading a jolt of heat through her numbed skin. All was still except for the movement of the flames against her skin. Dark eyes opened in that face of fire and regarded her. No living creature ever saw those eyes, they opened only for the dead.
A voice, sensed more than heard, broke the silence.
Greetings, Angelina. Elluminara. Herald of Chaos. Killed by the light of Akaran Dolar. Already you have seen more years than any should ever be allotted, especially in this – an age that was never meant to host you. I should take you beyond, show you the mess you have caused, treat you to the torments you have visited upon others…but The Dark Lady stills my hand. I owe Sukaniya a boon, Herald, and I now call it fulfilled. The gates to my realm are closed to you, I refuse your spirit and leave you to whatever fate you care to blaze for yourself. If you have the strength, you shall return to the living world and Lutaniya’s grace. If not, well, I trust you have the wits to survive in Sukaniya’s twilight.
The face smiled slightly, drawing its hands away from her face, down her shoulders and arms, lifting her hands to its burning lips. Its lingering kiss sent a jolt through Angie, painfully reawakening heart’s pulse and tormented lungs. The darkness began to fall again, the bloodied light fading from view, but the voice remained strong.
It would be a kindness to take you now, Herald, and the greater service to my sworn lord, but I cannot feel too guilty. In your darker moments, you are ever my faithful servant, and I see a long night before you.
* * *
She felt its approach. The bond did not click into place as the sword drew near, but rather her awareness of it suddenly sharpened, a long viewed peripheral image sliding into the forefront. Securing the loose ends of her spell, Angelina turned to regard the hunched figure that slowly crossed the courtyard, sheathed sword held before him like an offering.
Him. In his dirty traveling leathers and driven by his orders to make haste, Bryant exuded an air of filth and exhaustion, a far cry from the well-groomed prince that had caught her eye so many lifetimes ago. And yet, watching him draw closer, Angie felt the vague echoes of joy and desire and all the emotions he had inspired within her during the height of their liaison brush against the part of her that was still capable of feeling. Quickly, the rest of her responded to these stirrings with anger – here she stood on the eve of undoing this tainted world, having cut ties with all the allies and enemies who had provided their unique forms of distraction over the years, and her heart was fluttering with a fancy that long ago died. An obsession that, the girl could now admit, had been the keystone to the downhill slope her life had followed. How dare he still cause her to sense anything other that cool surety that this world was in its final hours.
It was with the greatest of self control that Angie kept her voice level as she addressed her knight. “I see you were successful. The sword, Paladin of Sukaniya, and let us see this to its end.”
He raised his eyes to her, then, his green eyes closed to her for perhaps the first time in their very long lives. Part of Angie felt like crying, seeing the mask in the shape of the man she had once loved looking upon her. Calm on the surface, however, the sorceress held out her hand for the sword that Bryant had unsheathed.
Something in Angie’s head screamed out a warning as, with the grace and ease of a man born to the art of swordplay, Bryant flipped the sword and changed his motion of presentation to attack. With her weapon in such close proximity and Bryant worn down as he was, it would have been child’s play for Angie to tear out his living soul and bind his shell to her will, a puppet in fact as opposed to just practice, a poetic end to a relationship that had long ago twisted into something that was neither pleasant nor healthy for either party involved.
As the sword slid between her ribs, in the moment before the force of her spell back lashing met the force of half her true power being turned against her, Angie felt the walls around her collapsing. She couldn’t kill him, she couldn’t hurt him, and she suddenly found the knowledge that she was going to die not half as terrifying as the knowledge that she had driven him to want her dead.
* * *
In the darkness of the sickroom, the vigil candles floating in bowls of water had burned low. The young girl lay still on her bed, having lapsed into unconsciousness several hours before. Sad, frightened, and exhausted, the girl’s younger sister leaned over her to place a single kiss on her forehead, a simple goodbye as everyone knew death would soon press his claim. Drawing back, the younger sister’s blue-gray eyes widened as she notices the dying girl’s lips move, whispering her last words in this lifetime.
“Angie….You will die three times. Once to light, once to fire….and once, to love….”
It was surreal. Kneeling on the ground like a penitent student, that was the only word Angie could find to describe the scene. He kneeled in front of her, the patient teacher, stenciling the runes of a transport spell into the dirt. Flames danced behind him, giving his torn gold gilded robes an unearthly sheen and quickly spoiling the air in the overgrown forest.
He stood, stiffly, finished with his work. His face was hard, anger and disappointment vying for control. “Use that. Get yourself out of here. We will continue this back at camp.”
Angie settled into a seated position, wary of her twisted ankle and cursing every piece of ash that floated near her eyes. Her position spoke of both defeat and stubbornness. She had nothing left with which to fight him, but she was making no move to follow his advice.
Thanasis watched her for only a moment before his already well-worn patience snapped. Grabbing her by the collar of her tunic, he lifted her from the ground, throwing her towards the transport circle. “Gods and Demons, when this night is though I am locking you away. After a sound beating and a night with the roughest infantrymen I can find.”
Angie landed hard, unable to catch herself on her bad ankle and surprised by the ferocity of his throw. For a moment, Thanasis thought he had knocked the wind out of her until he realized the low wheezing sound was exhausted laughter, barely supported. Slowly, Angie turned to face the circle, still prone on the ground. Glancing at him, she reached over and ran a finger through his carefully wrought runes, breaking the circle. “Why don’t you go keep the infantry warm, Thanasis? Their type is more to your liking than mine.”
Even in the glow of the fire, Angie could see the flush of anger on the man’s face. “Harlot. Vile words are to be my only reward for attempting to spare you some dignity? I will drag you into my spell, then, if you insist upon being so stubborn.”
Still laughing as best as she was able in the quickly drying air, Angie turned onto her back, giving up any attempt to sit or stand and face her nemesis. “Try it. I will fight you every inch of the way and it will kill me. Either way, I’m done.”
“Fine, Angelina. Burn, then. Go to Furan and know that there are special torments set aside for those who wrong Akaran.” Turning away from the girl, the man began to chant the words that would send him to safety, far from the reach of the quickly growing inferno.
Angie watched him vanish through half closed eyes, her half-hearted laughter leaving with him. “Bastard. You and your god both. Warn them, your Fire Lord and Sun God, that I am coming. I’ll show them the same cooperation I gave you…”
Coughing, Angie watched the flames arc over her, igniting the final trees in the clearing. Smoke rose into the sky, but enough of the dry grass around her had ignited to ensure her death. There would be no escape this time. Watching the branches above her burn, crackling and weakening, sending larger and larger pieces of flaming debris to the ground towards her, she muttered to herself softly.
“Sukaniya watch me and protect me. Death is only a pause, an intersection, a meeting of pathways. Sukaniya guide me to my next life…”
As the branches fell around her, she could vaguely hear her sister’s voice filling in as hers failed. “You will die three times...once to light, once to fire, once...”
* * *
It was like being struck by lightning and ice, the flash of blinding light and burning pain followed by a coldness that was merciful only in that, after the initial shock, numbness set in quickly. Disoriented, unsure if she was actually still conscious, the girl struggled to move, to respond, to find some sign that she was alive and still in command of her senses.
Nothing. She floated, blind, chilled, quickly slipping away. So much for her grand plan to thwart his ambition. She could still see him below her, his eyes full of malice and hate as he gave the order for the spell to commence. She would be purged, stripped of the ability to channel. He expected her to fight, lingering in agony for weeks until the inevitable occurred and she was overcome. Instead, she had allowed the spell to continue, using the momentum generated by the surge of power to teleport away, beyond his reach. Even if her fate was to die here, it was infinitely preferable to life as his plaything.
Here. Where was here? Some small part of her mind functioned enough to reason that the floating sensation she was feeling was not a common characteristic of dry land. At sea then. She would die entombed in the waves, blinded by the light of Thanasis’ insanity finally catching up with her.
The light. No, this was no hallucination, no visual echo of the Sun God’s touch. A crimson glow pulsed before her, growing in strength and intensity as her pulse weakened, a horribly mocking reflection of the nearness of death. She focused on it, aware that all other sensations were stubbornly slipping through her scrutiny. This light and this light alone was calling to her, demanding her attention.
The light condensed, solidified, taking on a vaguely human shape. Hands of flame reached out and cradled her face, spreading a jolt of heat through her numbed skin. All was still except for the movement of the flames against her skin. Dark eyes opened in that face of fire and regarded her. No living creature ever saw those eyes, they opened only for the dead.
A voice, sensed more than heard, broke the silence.
Greetings, Angelina. Elluminara. Herald of Chaos. Killed by the light of Akaran Dolar. Already you have seen more years than any should ever be allotted, especially in this – an age that was never meant to host you. I should take you beyond, show you the mess you have caused, treat you to the torments you have visited upon others…but The Dark Lady stills my hand. I owe Sukaniya a boon, Herald, and I now call it fulfilled. The gates to my realm are closed to you, I refuse your spirit and leave you to whatever fate you care to blaze for yourself. If you have the strength, you shall return to the living world and Lutaniya’s grace. If not, well, I trust you have the wits to survive in Sukaniya’s twilight.
The face smiled slightly, drawing its hands away from her face, down her shoulders and arms, lifting her hands to its burning lips. Its lingering kiss sent a jolt through Angie, painfully reawakening heart’s pulse and tormented lungs. The darkness began to fall again, the bloodied light fading from view, but the voice remained strong.
It would be a kindness to take you now, Herald, and the greater service to my sworn lord, but I cannot feel too guilty. In your darker moments, you are ever my faithful servant, and I see a long night before you.
* * *
She felt its approach. The bond did not click into place as the sword drew near, but rather her awareness of it suddenly sharpened, a long viewed peripheral image sliding into the forefront. Securing the loose ends of her spell, Angelina turned to regard the hunched figure that slowly crossed the courtyard, sheathed sword held before him like an offering.
Him. In his dirty traveling leathers and driven by his orders to make haste, Bryant exuded an air of filth and exhaustion, a far cry from the well-groomed prince that had caught her eye so many lifetimes ago. And yet, watching him draw closer, Angie felt the vague echoes of joy and desire and all the emotions he had inspired within her during the height of their liaison brush against the part of her that was still capable of feeling. Quickly, the rest of her responded to these stirrings with anger – here she stood on the eve of undoing this tainted world, having cut ties with all the allies and enemies who had provided their unique forms of distraction over the years, and her heart was fluttering with a fancy that long ago died. An obsession that, the girl could now admit, had been the keystone to the downhill slope her life had followed. How dare he still cause her to sense anything other that cool surety that this world was in its final hours.
It was with the greatest of self control that Angie kept her voice level as she addressed her knight. “I see you were successful. The sword, Paladin of Sukaniya, and let us see this to its end.”
He raised his eyes to her, then, his green eyes closed to her for perhaps the first time in their very long lives. Part of Angie felt like crying, seeing the mask in the shape of the man she had once loved looking upon her. Calm on the surface, however, the sorceress held out her hand for the sword that Bryant had unsheathed.
Something in Angie’s head screamed out a warning as, with the grace and ease of a man born to the art of swordplay, Bryant flipped the sword and changed his motion of presentation to attack. With her weapon in such close proximity and Bryant worn down as he was, it would have been child’s play for Angie to tear out his living soul and bind his shell to her will, a puppet in fact as opposed to just practice, a poetic end to a relationship that had long ago twisted into something that was neither pleasant nor healthy for either party involved.
As the sword slid between her ribs, in the moment before the force of her spell back lashing met the force of half her true power being turned against her, Angie felt the walls around her collapsing. She couldn’t kill him, she couldn’t hurt him, and she suddenly found the knowledge that she was going to die not half as terrifying as the knowledge that she had driven him to want her dead.
* * *
In the darkness of the sickroom, the vigil candles floating in bowls of water had burned low. The young girl lay still on her bed, having lapsed into unconsciousness several hours before. Sad, frightened, and exhausted, the girl’s younger sister leaned over her to place a single kiss on her forehead, a simple goodbye as everyone knew death would soon press his claim. Drawing back, the younger sister’s blue-gray eyes widened as she notices the dying girl’s lips move, whispering her last words in this lifetime.
“Angie….You will die three times. Once to light, once to fire….and once, to love….”