[Fic] "There's Always a Catch" -- original
Dec. 7th, 2003 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
edenfallingI had a weird dream last night, about three people who were going on a quest to the Mountain of the Nine Moons, to retrieve the Crown of Worlds in order to drive the Riders from their homeland and keep its physical laws more or less like those of earth. See, the Riders brought excess magic with them, and it's slowly changing the world into a topsy-turvey universe, part of the web of fractured lands, instead of a separate realm with its own clearly defined natural laws.
This is a bit where they're trying to get across an ocean filled with nasty sea-monsters.
---------------------------------
There's Always a Catch
---------------------------------
The long golden plain sloped gently downwards to the sea, never blurring into sand. The grasses bent and rippled in the wind, always three feet tall, sinking into the waves until only the tips, heavy with seeds, showed above the water. They swayed in and out with each gentle wave, muffling the power of the sea. The mountains to the north and south gleamed silver, impossibly distant across the rolling plains, and the sea stretched endlessly eastward.
Char faced the ocean with her hands on her hips and frowned at the impossible grass. Wisps of brown hair escaped along the length of her braid, forming a frizzy, misshapen halo around her head. She seemed out of place, her dark, stocky figure too solid and definite for this world, the sword and gun on her belt a blunt gash of mortality in the midst of grace. "The grass should have died from salt years ago," she said, without turning. "It should have drowned. This place is all wrong,"
Imberlee nodded, then realized Char couldn't see him as he lay behind her, his long legs slightly bent to ease his aching back. The waving grasses shadowed his face, protecting his pale skin. "Yes," he said. "The farther we travel, the less I know what to expect. I wish we were still in Solace -- I've been counting the days and it's nearly Carnival at home."
Char wasn't listening. "Why did we agree to this, Imberlee? After all, our people were conquerors once too, and the Riders let us keep our own laws and customs. Why did we come here instead of staying and living in ignorance?"
Imberlee sighed. "You could go back. Siv and I won't stop you."
Char turned and glared down at him. "I gave my word." Imberlee shrugged and folded his hands behind his head, pushing his short, dark hair into odd angles and pulling his blue jacket upwards.
Char clenched her hands and spun to face the ocean again. "I wish Siv would finish talking to the harpy," she said. "All she needs to do is ask for the transport spell and we can keep going. I want to reach the Mountain, find the blasted crown, and go home. I don't even care which of us uses it -- I'm willing to pay the price if you two don't want to. I want a normal sky, with the right number of moons and stars that have the decency to stay silent. I want people who don't have wings or tails or extra eyes. I want the world back. I'll pay anything for that."
"So would I," said Siv, suddenly and silently appearing by Imberlee's head with an ethereal, winged woman at her side. Tall and blonde and slim, Siv looked ever more ghostly as they traveled farther and further from home, the ragged ember of her magic whirling into new shapes with every border they crossed. "But if we don't find the crown soon, there won't be any world left to recover. The Riders ' influence will spread; within a year, Solace will be fractured beyond repair."
"I know that," Char snapped, clenching her hands and pointedly not looking at Siv. "I'm not blind and I heard the prophecy as well as you did. I'm here, aren't I? But nothing says I have to enjoy this journey."
Siv sighed. "True. Setting that aside, Lady Eseille says nobody sails on the ocean because of the sea-serpents, but she might have a way for us to fly across." The winged woman held up a large candle, a thick pillar of golden wax, its four sides gently curved in a half-twist. Two ropes dangled from the bottom and a crisp wick curled at the blunt tip. The woman said something in her chiming, singsong language.
"Many years ago a traveling wizard left this candle with her people," Siv translated. "When lit, it will float and move in the direction specified by the person who holds the strings. The spell prevents the wind from snuffing the flame."
The woman handed the candle to Siv, bowed, and sprang into the air, flying back toward her village on the river. Her wings glittered like silver in the midday sun.
After a moment, Imberlee sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, glancing upward at Siv. "That was unusually convenient. What's the catch?"
"Must there be a catch?"
"Yes," Char said, her left hand clenched on the hilt of her sword. "There's always a catch. The universe is against us. It wants to swallow our world, to make it as wrong as all these broken places. What's the catch this time, Siv? Do tell us, poor souls that we are, who await your wisdom with breathless anticipation."
"Just because I don't mind the fractured lands as much as you obviously do is no reason to act like that," Siv snapped. "But I suppose I can enlighten you. The catch, my humble and breathless disciple, is that the candle is only made to carry one person. With all three of us, it'll burn out long before we reach the other side of the ocean. And there are many, many hungry serpents in the water. Happy?"
"Thrilled," Imberlee said, standing up. "Give me your coats, some branches, about twenty yards of rope, and that oversized basket you've been carting around, and I'll get us across uneaten."
Char raised her eyebrow. "Oh? What insanity are you planning now?"
Imberlee grinned. "I don't think there's a word for sailing in the sky. You and Siv will have to invent one, so we'll be able to describe this part of the journey when we get home."
Char and Siv exchanged a long, exasperated look, briefly united against him, and then Siv handed him her coat. "Fine. But if we crash and somehow survive the fall, I swear I'll push you into a sea-serpent's teeth before I die. Char will help."
"Fair enough," said Imberlee, already losing words to the lure of schematics. The other artificers called him an impractical dreamer, but in the fractured lands, dreams were more practical than common sense. And he had always wanted to build a flying machine. He pulled a grease pencil from his pocket and began to sketch diagrams on his own sleeves, wondering absently what to use for a rudder.
---------------------------------
End of Story
---------------------------------
And there you have it. I doubt I'll ever do much of anything with it, but it's nice to get it out of my head and onto paper.
I really ought to be starting my Milton paper, and studying for my history final, but at the moment you'd have to pay me large amounts of money to get me to care less about work. I am being lazy and reading fanfiction porn. It's quite relaxing, really. ;-)
This is a bit where they're trying to get across an ocean filled with nasty sea-monsters.
---------------------------------
There's Always a Catch
---------------------------------
The long golden plain sloped gently downwards to the sea, never blurring into sand. The grasses bent and rippled in the wind, always three feet tall, sinking into the waves until only the tips, heavy with seeds, showed above the water. They swayed in and out with each gentle wave, muffling the power of the sea. The mountains to the north and south gleamed silver, impossibly distant across the rolling plains, and the sea stretched endlessly eastward.
Char faced the ocean with her hands on her hips and frowned at the impossible grass. Wisps of brown hair escaped along the length of her braid, forming a frizzy, misshapen halo around her head. She seemed out of place, her dark, stocky figure too solid and definite for this world, the sword and gun on her belt a blunt gash of mortality in the midst of grace. "The grass should have died from salt years ago," she said, without turning. "It should have drowned. This place is all wrong,"
Imberlee nodded, then realized Char couldn't see him as he lay behind her, his long legs slightly bent to ease his aching back. The waving grasses shadowed his face, protecting his pale skin. "Yes," he said. "The farther we travel, the less I know what to expect. I wish we were still in Solace -- I've been counting the days and it's nearly Carnival at home."
Char wasn't listening. "Why did we agree to this, Imberlee? After all, our people were conquerors once too, and the Riders let us keep our own laws and customs. Why did we come here instead of staying and living in ignorance?"
Imberlee sighed. "You could go back. Siv and I won't stop you."
Char turned and glared down at him. "I gave my word." Imberlee shrugged and folded his hands behind his head, pushing his short, dark hair into odd angles and pulling his blue jacket upwards.
Char clenched her hands and spun to face the ocean again. "I wish Siv would finish talking to the harpy," she said. "All she needs to do is ask for the transport spell and we can keep going. I want to reach the Mountain, find the blasted crown, and go home. I don't even care which of us uses it -- I'm willing to pay the price if you two don't want to. I want a normal sky, with the right number of moons and stars that have the decency to stay silent. I want people who don't have wings or tails or extra eyes. I want the world back. I'll pay anything for that."
"So would I," said Siv, suddenly and silently appearing by Imberlee's head with an ethereal, winged woman at her side. Tall and blonde and slim, Siv looked ever more ghostly as they traveled farther and further from home, the ragged ember of her magic whirling into new shapes with every border they crossed. "But if we don't find the crown soon, there won't be any world left to recover. The Riders ' influence will spread; within a year, Solace will be fractured beyond repair."
"I know that," Char snapped, clenching her hands and pointedly not looking at Siv. "I'm not blind and I heard the prophecy as well as you did. I'm here, aren't I? But nothing says I have to enjoy this journey."
Siv sighed. "True. Setting that aside, Lady Eseille says nobody sails on the ocean because of the sea-serpents, but she might have a way for us to fly across." The winged woman held up a large candle, a thick pillar of golden wax, its four sides gently curved in a half-twist. Two ropes dangled from the bottom and a crisp wick curled at the blunt tip. The woman said something in her chiming, singsong language.
"Many years ago a traveling wizard left this candle with her people," Siv translated. "When lit, it will float and move in the direction specified by the person who holds the strings. The spell prevents the wind from snuffing the flame."
The woman handed the candle to Siv, bowed, and sprang into the air, flying back toward her village on the river. Her wings glittered like silver in the midday sun.
After a moment, Imberlee sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, glancing upward at Siv. "That was unusually convenient. What's the catch?"
"Must there be a catch?"
"Yes," Char said, her left hand clenched on the hilt of her sword. "There's always a catch. The universe is against us. It wants to swallow our world, to make it as wrong as all these broken places. What's the catch this time, Siv? Do tell us, poor souls that we are, who await your wisdom with breathless anticipation."
"Just because I don't mind the fractured lands as much as you obviously do is no reason to act like that," Siv snapped. "But I suppose I can enlighten you. The catch, my humble and breathless disciple, is that the candle is only made to carry one person. With all three of us, it'll burn out long before we reach the other side of the ocean. And there are many, many hungry serpents in the water. Happy?"
"Thrilled," Imberlee said, standing up. "Give me your coats, some branches, about twenty yards of rope, and that oversized basket you've been carting around, and I'll get us across uneaten."
Char raised her eyebrow. "Oh? What insanity are you planning now?"
Imberlee grinned. "I don't think there's a word for sailing in the sky. You and Siv will have to invent one, so we'll be able to describe this part of the journey when we get home."
Char and Siv exchanged a long, exasperated look, briefly united against him, and then Siv handed him her coat. "Fine. But if we crash and somehow survive the fall, I swear I'll push you into a sea-serpent's teeth before I die. Char will help."
"Fair enough," said Imberlee, already losing words to the lure of schematics. The other artificers called him an impractical dreamer, but in the fractured lands, dreams were more practical than common sense. And he had always wanted to build a flying machine. He pulled a grease pencil from his pocket and began to sketch diagrams on his own sleeves, wondering absently what to use for a rudder.
---------------------------------
End of Story
---------------------------------
And there you have it. I doubt I'll ever do much of anything with it, but it's nice to get it out of my head and onto paper.
I really ought to be starting my Milton paper, and studying for my history final, but at the moment you'd have to pay me large amounts of money to get me to care less about work. I am being lazy and reading fanfiction porn. It's quite relaxing, really. ;-)
