Elizabeth Culmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edenfalling) wrote2010-11-05 01:35 am
edenfalling) wrote2010-11-05 01:35 am
Entry tags:
[Fic] "Ashes" part 4 -- original, NaNo 2010
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Ashes, part 4
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[This time it was Riam's turn to laugh as they retraced their steps into the compound and back past the altar room to the great hall, where supper was nearly ready to eat.]
Tir was waiting just inside the door, and reached up to touch Riam's shoulder: their signal for a private conversation, whether sister-to-brother or holder-to-binder. Riam detangled himself from Sular with a murmured apology and a tilt of his head toward Tir, who was striding back out into the corridor and turning right -- heading toward the map room, which was where they always met these days.
Sular held her hands up, palms forward, taking no offense. "Go on, go on."
"Take a seat at the high table," Riam said. "No one will object -- trust me on that. You're part of the household even if you're only here one or two days a week."
He didn't give her a chance to say anything self-deprecating before he turned and followed Tir out of the great hall and through the corridor, walking close to the wall in a futile attempt not to disrupt the flow of people into the great hall and toward the long, heavily laden tables. He nodded absently to several people who greeted him as he walked. It was a mystery where they all came from, he thought; the holder's compound and its fields and pastures were large, but surely not large enough for this many people to vanish during the day.
The map room, at least, was less crowded -- though not quite empty. The curtains were drawn against the dark, and four tallow candles burned in sconces, two against each wall; they cast wavering shadows over the low shelves that ran from corner to corner in an unbroken line.
Tir was leaning against the round, blackwood table where she and the elite guards planned hunts and patrols, and correlated the news brought back from the freeholds surrounding Zerlon. Her arms were folded and her face set in a pensive frown.
Tir frowned too much since their uncle died and she inherited his responsibilities.
"Is Zalir hurt?" Riam asked, closing the door behind himself. The draft set the candles dancing, making his shadow and Tir's seem almost alive.
Tir snorted and waved a hand over her shoulder.
"Zalir," said the person in question, as she stood from behind the table, several rolled documents in her arms, "is just fine, as Riam would know if he bothered to use any of the five senses most people find more than enough to get by with." She dumped the scrolls on the table and spread her arms wide. "See?"
Riam lunged around the table and wrapped his oldest friend up in a hug, slinging his arms over her shoulders and pulling her close. After a moment, Zalir slid one arm around his waist and patted his back.
"There, there," she said. "I don't know why you're so worried. You never have problems when I'm out on a long patrol."
"I know how to deal with miasma. It won't ever do anything unexpected," Riam muttered into the ruthlessly short cap of Zalir's hair. "Magicians are different. Men can think."
Zalir set her hands against Riam's chest and prodded him until he let her go. "Yes, well, this magician is definitely different, which is why you and Tir are here to listen to my report before meeting her."
Riam blinked.
"Her?" he repeated.
Zalir smiled, quick and sharp. "Yes. Two women, actually. The magician, who refused to give me her name, looks to be from somewhere in the far north -- all the way north, to where it's winter half the year or more. Her companion, who was badly injured and is staying at the taint-house for the next few days, is from somewhere along the coast of the Jyavati Sea -- or at least I think that's what she said before she passed out from blood loss. And no, I don't know what brings two people like that together, let alone what reason they have for riding this far south. We're not interesting, and only crazy people would try to cross the mountains into the Great Waste."
"Sane people don't make themselves into magicians," Tir said, abruptly reminding Riam that he and Zalir weren't alone. "You've had your reunion, Zalir. Report."
Zalir straightened and set her left hand on the hilt of her sword, the other darting up to touch her forehead, mouth, and heart before returning to her side. "I took a fist with me to the owl tower; we crossed the river at the fourth bridge and rode a slightly curved route so as to approach from the southeast in case the magician or her pursuit had evaded the tower garrison. We encountered no trouble and found the magician, her companion, and three guards from the owl tower all dismounted at the base of a hill just inside the border; the magician's companion was seated. Two charred human corpses and their equally charred mounts lay halfway across the boundary line, and the guards were arguing over whether they were safe to touch."
Riam winced, imagining the stench that must have hovered over the scene.
"The magician noticed our approach first," Zalir continued, her voice level and her expression blank, "and drew power in the form of an open flame dancing above her hand. Her companion said something in an unknown language, whereupon the magician turned and threw the flame toward the corpses, further burning them and also setting fire to a nearby thorntree."
Tir made a low disgusted noise in the back of her throat. Zalir broke composure enough to share a grimace. Then she resumed her report.
"At that point the magician apparently decided to ignore us in favor of tending to her companion, who was now swaying as she sat. I dismounted and walked forward with open hands. The companion again spoke to the magician, who sat back and allowed me to approach. The companion attempted to speak with me in trade tongue, but I suspect blood loss was hazing her thoughts, and all she managed to say was something muddled about Jyavati, darkness, and that some unspecified thing or person was very important. Then she collapsed."
"What was her injury, and why didn't the garrison notice her trouble sooner?" Tir asked.
"Blood loss and probably muscle and joint damage from several deep wounds across her back and shoulders," Zalir answered, "and they said they didn't notice because she was already seated when they arrived. Because she was facing away from the corpses and they were facing toward the fire, they never saw her back, and she gave no sign of distress until after I and my fist arrived."
Tir hummed noncommittally. Riam thought that had been remarkably stupid of the foreigner; it was one thing to work through pain in a crisis, but ignoring pain once help had arrived was self-defeating pride.
Then again, perhaps the magician and her companion had considered the guards merely another phase of whatever trouble had chased them into Zerlon. It was hard to remember that not everyone knew and trusted Tir's word -- let alone trusted that her word would be upheld by all those under her wing -- but people from the tropics, let alone people from the utmost north, had no reason to remember that Zerlon even existed.
But Zalir wasn't done with her tale.
"The magician used a small flame to cauterize her companion's wounds, after which Oganem and I bound them as best we could," she said. "The magician speaks trade tongue and agreed to ride with us to the taint-house, though she refused to name either herself or her companion. It was more difficult to persuade her to leave her companion and come to the compound, but she eventually agreed. I assigned Oganem to stay with the companion, and Gador to take the magician to a guest room where she can wash and change for supper. She should be arriving in the great hall within twenty minutes."
Report delivered, Zalir removed her hand from her sword and relaxed minutely. "So. What do you want to do?"
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1) So I still haven't gotten Morgalen on-page, but at least you've 'seen' her secondhand. The next scene (or at the very latest, the one after that) will introduce her properly. And then I will have all my main characters in place. \o/
2) With regard to the Jyavati Sea and other geographic mysteries: I really do need to draw a map at some point. Until then, let me just say that this world is composed of a Pangaea-like supercontinent, which reaches from the arctic circle in the north down to about, oh, 40 degrees south of the equator, at the far southeastern tip. The Jyavati Sea is a Mediterranean-like sea -- not quite landlocked, but very close to it -- that pushes in from the east just north of the equator. Zerlon is in the southwest, around 35 degrees south of the equator. It lies in a highland plateau between some coastal mountains in the west and a big-ass mountain range to the east and south, where a continental plate is driving the southeastern tip of the supercontinent (i.e., a peninsular subcontinent) into the rest of the landmass. The mountains and the land beyond them are the Great Waste; the miasma spread from there.
3) 1,325 words today, 5,550 total.
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In offline news, my mother is coming up for a visit this weekend, since my dad is off at a conference somewhere. This will be a standard flying visit -- Friday evening to Saturday afternoon -- during which we will eat out two or three times, do some shopping, visit the Farmer's Market, a winery or two, and maybe do something explicitly touristy. Since Mom will be accompanied only by her dog, I will be putting her up on my air mattress in my computer room.
This means I will probably not get much writing done on Friday.
Oh well, whatever! I think seeing my mom is slightly more important. :-)
Ashes, part 4
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[This time it was Riam's turn to laugh as they retraced their steps into the compound and back past the altar room to the great hall, where supper was nearly ready to eat.]
Tir was waiting just inside the door, and reached up to touch Riam's shoulder: their signal for a private conversation, whether sister-to-brother or holder-to-binder. Riam detangled himself from Sular with a murmured apology and a tilt of his head toward Tir, who was striding back out into the corridor and turning right -- heading toward the map room, which was where they always met these days.
Sular held her hands up, palms forward, taking no offense. "Go on, go on."
"Take a seat at the high table," Riam said. "No one will object -- trust me on that. You're part of the household even if you're only here one or two days a week."
He didn't give her a chance to say anything self-deprecating before he turned and followed Tir out of the great hall and through the corridor, walking close to the wall in a futile attempt not to disrupt the flow of people into the great hall and toward the long, heavily laden tables. He nodded absently to several people who greeted him as he walked. It was a mystery where they all came from, he thought; the holder's compound and its fields and pastures were large, but surely not large enough for this many people to vanish during the day.
The map room, at least, was less crowded -- though not quite empty. The curtains were drawn against the dark, and four tallow candles burned in sconces, two against each wall; they cast wavering shadows over the low shelves that ran from corner to corner in an unbroken line.
Tir was leaning against the round, blackwood table where she and the elite guards planned hunts and patrols, and correlated the news brought back from the freeholds surrounding Zerlon. Her arms were folded and her face set in a pensive frown.
Tir frowned too much since their uncle died and she inherited his responsibilities.
"Is Zalir hurt?" Riam asked, closing the door behind himself. The draft set the candles dancing, making his shadow and Tir's seem almost alive.
Tir snorted and waved a hand over her shoulder.
"Zalir," said the person in question, as she stood from behind the table, several rolled documents in her arms, "is just fine, as Riam would know if he bothered to use any of the five senses most people find more than enough to get by with." She dumped the scrolls on the table and spread her arms wide. "See?"
Riam lunged around the table and wrapped his oldest friend up in a hug, slinging his arms over her shoulders and pulling her close. After a moment, Zalir slid one arm around his waist and patted his back.
"There, there," she said. "I don't know why you're so worried. You never have problems when I'm out on a long patrol."
"I know how to deal with miasma. It won't ever do anything unexpected," Riam muttered into the ruthlessly short cap of Zalir's hair. "Magicians are different. Men can think."
Zalir set her hands against Riam's chest and prodded him until he let her go. "Yes, well, this magician is definitely different, which is why you and Tir are here to listen to my report before meeting her."
Riam blinked.
"Her?" he repeated.
Zalir smiled, quick and sharp. "Yes. Two women, actually. The magician, who refused to give me her name, looks to be from somewhere in the far north -- all the way north, to where it's winter half the year or more. Her companion, who was badly injured and is staying at the taint-house for the next few days, is from somewhere along the coast of the Jyavati Sea -- or at least I think that's what she said before she passed out from blood loss. And no, I don't know what brings two people like that together, let alone what reason they have for riding this far south. We're not interesting, and only crazy people would try to cross the mountains into the Great Waste."
"Sane people don't make themselves into magicians," Tir said, abruptly reminding Riam that he and Zalir weren't alone. "You've had your reunion, Zalir. Report."
Zalir straightened and set her left hand on the hilt of her sword, the other darting up to touch her forehead, mouth, and heart before returning to her side. "I took a fist with me to the owl tower; we crossed the river at the fourth bridge and rode a slightly curved route so as to approach from the southeast in case the magician or her pursuit had evaded the tower garrison. We encountered no trouble and found the magician, her companion, and three guards from the owl tower all dismounted at the base of a hill just inside the border; the magician's companion was seated. Two charred human corpses and their equally charred mounts lay halfway across the boundary line, and the guards were arguing over whether they were safe to touch."
Riam winced, imagining the stench that must have hovered over the scene.
"The magician noticed our approach first," Zalir continued, her voice level and her expression blank, "and drew power in the form of an open flame dancing above her hand. Her companion said something in an unknown language, whereupon the magician turned and threw the flame toward the corpses, further burning them and also setting fire to a nearby thorntree."
Tir made a low disgusted noise in the back of her throat. Zalir broke composure enough to share a grimace. Then she resumed her report.
"At that point the magician apparently decided to ignore us in favor of tending to her companion, who was now swaying as she sat. I dismounted and walked forward with open hands. The companion again spoke to the magician, who sat back and allowed me to approach. The companion attempted to speak with me in trade tongue, but I suspect blood loss was hazing her thoughts, and all she managed to say was something muddled about Jyavati, darkness, and that some unspecified thing or person was very important. Then she collapsed."
"What was her injury, and why didn't the garrison notice her trouble sooner?" Tir asked.
"Blood loss and probably muscle and joint damage from several deep wounds across her back and shoulders," Zalir answered, "and they said they didn't notice because she was already seated when they arrived. Because she was facing away from the corpses and they were facing toward the fire, they never saw her back, and she gave no sign of distress until after I and my fist arrived."
Tir hummed noncommittally. Riam thought that had been remarkably stupid of the foreigner; it was one thing to work through pain in a crisis, but ignoring pain once help had arrived was self-defeating pride.
Then again, perhaps the magician and her companion had considered the guards merely another phase of whatever trouble had chased them into Zerlon. It was hard to remember that not everyone knew and trusted Tir's word -- let alone trusted that her word would be upheld by all those under her wing -- but people from the tropics, let alone people from the utmost north, had no reason to remember that Zerlon even existed.
But Zalir wasn't done with her tale.
"The magician used a small flame to cauterize her companion's wounds, after which Oganem and I bound them as best we could," she said. "The magician speaks trade tongue and agreed to ride with us to the taint-house, though she refused to name either herself or her companion. It was more difficult to persuade her to leave her companion and come to the compound, but she eventually agreed. I assigned Oganem to stay with the companion, and Gador to take the magician to a guest room where she can wash and change for supper. She should be arriving in the great hall within twenty minutes."
Report delivered, Zalir removed her hand from her sword and relaxed minutely. "So. What do you want to do?"
---------------
---------------
---------------
1) So I still haven't gotten Morgalen on-page, but at least you've 'seen' her secondhand. The next scene (or at the very latest, the one after that) will introduce her properly. And then I will have all my main characters in place. \o/
2) With regard to the Jyavati Sea and other geographic mysteries: I really do need to draw a map at some point. Until then, let me just say that this world is composed of a Pangaea-like supercontinent, which reaches from the arctic circle in the north down to about, oh, 40 degrees south of the equator, at the far southeastern tip. The Jyavati Sea is a Mediterranean-like sea -- not quite landlocked, but very close to it -- that pushes in from the east just north of the equator. Zerlon is in the southwest, around 35 degrees south of the equator. It lies in a highland plateau between some coastal mountains in the west and a big-ass mountain range to the east and south, where a continental plate is driving the southeastern tip of the supercontinent (i.e., a peninsular subcontinent) into the rest of the landmass. The mountains and the land beyond them are the Great Waste; the miasma spread from there.
3) 1,325 words today, 5,550 total.
---------------
In offline news, my mother is coming up for a visit this weekend, since my dad is off at a conference somewhere. This will be a standard flying visit -- Friday evening to Saturday afternoon -- during which we will eat out two or three times, do some shopping, visit the Farmer's Market, a winery or two, and maybe do something explicitly touristy. Since Mom will be accompanied only by her dog, I will be putting her up on my air mattress in my computer room.
This means I will probably not get much writing done on Friday.
Oh well, whatever! I think seeing my mom is slightly more important. :-)
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no subject
I'm glad Tir and Zalir seem good at their jobs!