emmel
2008-09-11 10:18:44 UTC
All right, here is the complete installment number 12. The usual
disclaimers, threads, and general remarks apply. (In other words:
Comment, dammit!)
Mostly focusing on Aleana this time, but I still hope you'll enjoy it.
Oh, and I didn't really proof read, because... well, I'm a lazy,
feedback crazed madmen, you know.
*****
The little arrow of pale blue light spun around its axis without being
able to decide on a bearing. Aleana visibly relaxed, the arrow fading
as her grip on the spell loosened. Laiva was alive, even when she
couldn't pinpoint her position. Deep down she knew she'd have known if
anything had happened to her little girl, but she had had to make
sure.
It was the smell that got to her. That sickly sweet stench
travelling with the smell of fire. She had long ago passed the point
when it made her stomach turn, but it still carried with it memories
of things that Aleana would rather not have remembered. Slowly she
continued along the road, hand rested at the hilt of her sword.
A few minutes later she was standing in front of a heap that
had once been the inn. Even the roof with its massive support beams
hadn't lasted, being reduced to ashes as the rest of the house. The
chimney alone had survived the brunt of the fire, many of its stones
cracked, but still standing against the night sky like a finger raised
in warning.
By the looks of it, the rumours of bandits in the area where
true after all, and on top of that they had a mage among them; there
was no way that fire could have been natural. In a way fire had a
personality, an inherent pride - it wanted to be respected, admired.
Left to its own resources it would have left reminders of its force -
blackened planks, charred beams, half burned bits and pieces; the
destruction of the inn, in contrast, had been complete, and, if she
wasn't completely mistaken, far too fast. Too fast to get out in time.
'May your spirits bath in forgetfulness as your bodies
continue the eternal cycle.'
Aleana felt a pang of guilt for shortening the rites like
that, but she trusted the dead would understand. She simply didn't
have time to go looking for remains to bury, if there even was
anything besides ashes. All that mattered now was Laiva. Somewhere out
there was her little girl, on her own, with the only shelter far and
wide gone. She had to find her before any bandits stumbled over her.
Her poor little Laiva. All the thing she had to go through
because she had failed. Failed her. Laughed at her. She off all people
should have understood. The look on her face...
Not this time. She would find her, protect her, try to make
up. She could only hope Laiva would ever be able to forgive her.
Mynor jerked his eyes open and lifted his head. He let his senses
wander, but there was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard and
nothing to be smelled out of the usual, but the slightly oily quality
of the world around left no doubt - there was magic in the air, and
plenty at that.
He looked at the child curled up against his side, but Laiva
was fast sleep, her breath deep and steady. A bit too fast for her own
good, but she would learn. The important bit, however, was that she
hadn't been the caster.
Seconds passed as if they were seconds - Mynor having a rather
acute sense of time - without anything happening, but he wasn't
prepared to relax yet. Magic at this scale usually had repercussions.
A few more seconds later he was proven right. The distortion
in the magic was huge, and it was coming from the direction of the
road. Laiva on his side stirred, but didn't wake. As exhausted as she
had been, even the magical equivalent of a thunderstorm couldn't rip
her out of her sleep. Mynor wanted to jump up, get moving, but he
couldn't just leave her, could he? Not with Laiva counting on him.
Aleana dodged a fireball and a large chunk of tree trunk behind her
instantly combusted. The remaining wood creaked alarmingly under the
stress for a moment, then with one loud crack the wood gave in and a
thousand odd years oak smashed into the ground with all the gravity
that had accumulated over the years, taking with it two more trees and
a ripping several branches from the others.
A few metres from the carnage Aleana rolled over her shoulder
and into a crouch, still clutching the sword with her left hand; her
opponent hadn't moved, the tree missing him by inches. She refused to
be impressed. For one thing, he hadn't moved because he had been
paralysed by fear - she could see it in his eyes - but that was only
part of it. Mostly, however, she refused to be impressed by that much
foolishness.
Nobody in his right mind would have risked a spell like that
once, for the fear of backfiring, but this boy, hardly dry behind the
ears, was throwing fireballs around by the dozen. Besides, he was
wielding his magic like a sledgehammer; no variety, no finesse, no
style and a complete lack of proportion. She started to get the
impression he only knew that one spell.
Aleana did a jump start, unfolding like a spring from her
crouched position and took cover behind a tree; another fireball
hitting the spot a split second later. This was getting tedious, but
it was meant to. It might have been years since she picked her sword
up, but it hadn't been idle years, and her patience had, if anything,
increased. Children did that to you, and Laiva, while not being
difficult, could be rather trying sometimes; she couldn't quite
picture this wannabe mage talking her daughter out of keeping a rat
for a pet. Not that he'd ever get a chance to lay his hands on her;
she would see to that.
A tremor passed through the tree she had chosen for cover as
yet another fireball smashed against it, streams of boiling hot air
passed Aleana to the left and right. Hitting the tree in front of her?
What was that supposed to achieve? Never mind, it was time to act.
The oak slowly tilted and then, with a snap, the it crashed
into the ground, away from her and towards the mage, who, this time,
had taken a few steps back. The more he was surprised, when something
suddenly jerked at his ankle he lost his footing. He just managed to
look down his leg and notice the faint tinkle of an expended spell
before he hit the ground; the next and last thing he saw was Aleana,
trusting the tip her her sword into his heart.
She pulled it out of the limp body and wiped the blade clean
on his clothes, before sheathing it carefully. This wasn't quite what
she had in mind, but in the end the result was the same: The bandits
wouldn't get Laiva in their fingers.
It had been bad luck paired with an evident lack of skill that
had costs the bandits their lives. Bad luck that they had decided to
waylay the road tonight and a lack of skill in waylaying. She had
spotted the sentries way before they noticed anything, and then it had
already been too late. Only the mage had given her a bit of trouble,
having decided to turn around at just the wrong moment.
Aleana let her eyes wander, taking in the destruction around
her. She didn't relish in taking lives, but it was probably for the
best. The magic fire had been too fast and too punctual to start any
forest fires, but sooner or later it would have happened, and then it
would not just have been Laiva's and her life on the line, but all
villages in the Southern Forest as well.
Without wasting time on death rites Aleana turned away and
backtracked her way to the road. Some performed them to prove the
world and themselves how good a person they were, some did them for
fear of the dead's wrath, but to Aleana the only reason had always
been showing her respects and these bandits didn't deserve them. She
had better things to do.
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)
story archives available at http://ranira.wordpress.com
Official AGC feedback maniac
"God is playing creatures - and we're the norns."
"A hundred dead are a tragedy - a hundred thousand are statistics."
"I guess you can call yourself lucky." -
"I could, but Linda suits me a little better... :)
Things called lucky tend to get hit by trucks."
Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).
Hi, I'm a .sig virus. Just copy me to your .signature. And don't worry.
disclaimers, threads, and general remarks apply. (In other words:
Comment, dammit!)
Mostly focusing on Aleana this time, but I still hope you'll enjoy it.
Oh, and I didn't really proof read, because... well, I'm a lazy,
feedback crazed madmen, you know.
*****
The little arrow of pale blue light spun around its axis without being
able to decide on a bearing. Aleana visibly relaxed, the arrow fading
as her grip on the spell loosened. Laiva was alive, even when she
couldn't pinpoint her position. Deep down she knew she'd have known if
anything had happened to her little girl, but she had had to make
sure.
It was the smell that got to her. That sickly sweet stench
travelling with the smell of fire. She had long ago passed the point
when it made her stomach turn, but it still carried with it memories
of things that Aleana would rather not have remembered. Slowly she
continued along the road, hand rested at the hilt of her sword.
A few minutes later she was standing in front of a heap that
had once been the inn. Even the roof with its massive support beams
hadn't lasted, being reduced to ashes as the rest of the house. The
chimney alone had survived the brunt of the fire, many of its stones
cracked, but still standing against the night sky like a finger raised
in warning.
By the looks of it, the rumours of bandits in the area where
true after all, and on top of that they had a mage among them; there
was no way that fire could have been natural. In a way fire had a
personality, an inherent pride - it wanted to be respected, admired.
Left to its own resources it would have left reminders of its force -
blackened planks, charred beams, half burned bits and pieces; the
destruction of the inn, in contrast, had been complete, and, if she
wasn't completely mistaken, far too fast. Too fast to get out in time.
'May your spirits bath in forgetfulness as your bodies
continue the eternal cycle.'
Aleana felt a pang of guilt for shortening the rites like
that, but she trusted the dead would understand. She simply didn't
have time to go looking for remains to bury, if there even was
anything besides ashes. All that mattered now was Laiva. Somewhere out
there was her little girl, on her own, with the only shelter far and
wide gone. She had to find her before any bandits stumbled over her.
Her poor little Laiva. All the thing she had to go through
because she had failed. Failed her. Laughed at her. She off all people
should have understood. The look on her face...
Not this time. She would find her, protect her, try to make
up. She could only hope Laiva would ever be able to forgive her.
Mynor jerked his eyes open and lifted his head. He let his senses
wander, but there was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard and
nothing to be smelled out of the usual, but the slightly oily quality
of the world around left no doubt - there was magic in the air, and
plenty at that.
He looked at the child curled up against his side, but Laiva
was fast sleep, her breath deep and steady. A bit too fast for her own
good, but she would learn. The important bit, however, was that she
hadn't been the caster.
Seconds passed as if they were seconds - Mynor having a rather
acute sense of time - without anything happening, but he wasn't
prepared to relax yet. Magic at this scale usually had repercussions.
A few more seconds later he was proven right. The distortion
in the magic was huge, and it was coming from the direction of the
road. Laiva on his side stirred, but didn't wake. As exhausted as she
had been, even the magical equivalent of a thunderstorm couldn't rip
her out of her sleep. Mynor wanted to jump up, get moving, but he
couldn't just leave her, could he? Not with Laiva counting on him.
Aleana dodged a fireball and a large chunk of tree trunk behind her
instantly combusted. The remaining wood creaked alarmingly under the
stress for a moment, then with one loud crack the wood gave in and a
thousand odd years oak smashed into the ground with all the gravity
that had accumulated over the years, taking with it two more trees and
a ripping several branches from the others.
A few metres from the carnage Aleana rolled over her shoulder
and into a crouch, still clutching the sword with her left hand; her
opponent hadn't moved, the tree missing him by inches. She refused to
be impressed. For one thing, he hadn't moved because he had been
paralysed by fear - she could see it in his eyes - but that was only
part of it. Mostly, however, she refused to be impressed by that much
foolishness.
Nobody in his right mind would have risked a spell like that
once, for the fear of backfiring, but this boy, hardly dry behind the
ears, was throwing fireballs around by the dozen. Besides, he was
wielding his magic like a sledgehammer; no variety, no finesse, no
style and a complete lack of proportion. She started to get the
impression he only knew that one spell.
Aleana did a jump start, unfolding like a spring from her
crouched position and took cover behind a tree; another fireball
hitting the spot a split second later. This was getting tedious, but
it was meant to. It might have been years since she picked her sword
up, but it hadn't been idle years, and her patience had, if anything,
increased. Children did that to you, and Laiva, while not being
difficult, could be rather trying sometimes; she couldn't quite
picture this wannabe mage talking her daughter out of keeping a rat
for a pet. Not that he'd ever get a chance to lay his hands on her;
she would see to that.
A tremor passed through the tree she had chosen for cover as
yet another fireball smashed against it, streams of boiling hot air
passed Aleana to the left and right. Hitting the tree in front of her?
What was that supposed to achieve? Never mind, it was time to act.
The oak slowly tilted and then, with a snap, the it crashed
into the ground, away from her and towards the mage, who, this time,
had taken a few steps back. The more he was surprised, when something
suddenly jerked at his ankle he lost his footing. He just managed to
look down his leg and notice the faint tinkle of an expended spell
before he hit the ground; the next and last thing he saw was Aleana,
trusting the tip her her sword into his heart.
She pulled it out of the limp body and wiped the blade clean
on his clothes, before sheathing it carefully. This wasn't quite what
she had in mind, but in the end the result was the same: The bandits
wouldn't get Laiva in their fingers.
It had been bad luck paired with an evident lack of skill that
had costs the bandits their lives. Bad luck that they had decided to
waylay the road tonight and a lack of skill in waylaying. She had
spotted the sentries way before they noticed anything, and then it had
already been too late. Only the mage had given her a bit of trouble,
having decided to turn around at just the wrong moment.
Aleana let her eyes wander, taking in the destruction around
her. She didn't relish in taking lives, but it was probably for the
best. The magic fire had been too fast and too punctual to start any
forest fires, but sooner or later it would have happened, and then it
would not just have been Laiva's and her life on the line, but all
villages in the Southern Forest as well.
Without wasting time on death rites Aleana turned away and
backtracked her way to the road. Some performed them to prove the
world and themselves how good a person they were, some did them for
fear of the dead's wrath, but to Aleana the only reason had always
been showing her respects and these bandits didn't deserve them. She
had better things to do.
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)
story archives available at http://ranira.wordpress.com
Official AGC feedback maniac
"God is playing creatures - and we're the norns."
"A hundred dead are a tragedy - a hundred thousand are statistics."
"I guess you can call yourself lucky." -
"I could, but Linda suits me a little better... :)
Things called lucky tend to get hit by trucks."
Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).
Hi, I'm a .sig virus. Just copy me to your .signature. And don't worry.