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edenfalling---------------------------------------------
Ashes, part 13
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["Maybe," Riam said, but he ran a mental hand along the boundary as he walked, feeling the ragged edges of the tear Morgalen had made, and he wondered what else she might change before she left Zerlon.]
Riam dreamed of miasma, coiling black and thick like malevolent smoke as it twined through his fingers and around his wrists. No matter how much he gathered and twisted into submission, more coils always snaked forward, reaching hungrily toward the people at his back. And it burned -- but it burned cold, the bone-chilling burn of winter's darkest heart. His hands ached, and numbed, and bled, his skin raw and cracked, with blood dripping down to stain the tamed coils crimson.
He was used to the dream, and shoved it easily aside in the faint gray light of false dawn. The boundary was intact, his patch was holding over the tear, and today he might get to exchange techniques with a foreign binder -- assuming Kivarunanga Gydra was both awake and willing to speak with anyone other than Morgalen.
If she wasn't, he might be able to persuade Tir to let him and Sular ride on to the owl tower and fix the wards today instead of waiting for tomorrow. The taint-house was more or less on the way, after all, and there was no point in wasting several hours' journey.
Maybe Zalir would come too, leaving someone else to watch Morgalen for a while. That would be good. Since she'd become one of the three field commanders, Riam never saw her as often as he liked.
He spent the early morning distracted by thoughts of how to cajole Zalir into following him the way he'd always done on their childhood adventures. Meanwhile Zalir once again attempted to teach him how to fight, and she killed him twice in short order. She pulled her strikes at the last second, of course, but still sliced his tunic and broke his skin to make her point. Sweat ran down his body and the salt stung the edges of the shallow cuts.
"This is useless," Zalir said, stepping back and holding her sword at rest. "Your body is here, but where are you?"
Riam shrugged, wishing he'd managed to last a bit longer between fatal errors, if only so Zalir wouldn't be annoyed. But she'd asked, so he answered. "If Kivarunanga Gydra can't or won't speak with me and Sular, would you ride with us to the owl tower so we can fix the tear in the boundary?"
Zalir's face and posture didn't visibly change, and yet somehow she projected a clear sense of resigned amusement. "You never change," she said. Then she raised her sword again. "Here's a bargain: kill me once, and I'll take your side when you ask Tir. If she says yes, I'll come along."
"If you'd rather not, just say so," Riam said, raising his staff in suddenly weary arms.
"I said what I meant," Zalir told him. "Don't play stupid. Put that down and do it the real way."
"Zalir..."
"The real way or nothing."
Riam sighed. "Done." He looked over his shoulder, checking that the bar on the door was firmly settled into place -- but of course Zalir wouldn't have asked if there was any chance of an audience. His secret was hers too, if only because she'd kept it for so long, just as her secrets were also his. He just wished she wouldn't push him. He would be perfectly happy to let things lie, but that wasn't Zalir's way.
Riam turned back to face Zalir and planted his staff upright on the floor, his hands braced around the solid wood to give the illusion that he might pick it up at any moment. Then he opened himself to the soul of the world.
What he heard and saw faded into insignificance, swamped by a sea of temperature and texture, swirling over his skin like silk and weights and phantom thorns. In the distance, his own wards flared cool and smooth; miasma danced outside, its heavy wrongness drawing his attention like iron to lodestone.
Riam fought the urge to close his eyes, fought to keep a sliver of his attention fixed on the sight of Zalir's body moving toward him, her sword poised to strike. He found the knot of the world that both shadowed and formed her physical self -- wound his mental fingers into the threads -- and held.
"Stop," he said.
She did.
After a moment, Riam slid to the ground, still holding the staff in his hands and Zalir's soul in his mind. After another moment, he remembered she couldn't speak until he released her.
He let go of the threads.
Zalir stumbled forward, her momentum destroyed and her target obviously no longer where she'd expected. She managed not to trip over Riam, however. "You need to stop giving it away by speaking," she said once she'd recovered her balance. "One person falling down here and there is easy to overlook in a battle. People falling down right after you tell them to fall down is much harder not to see. Also, you're supposed to strike me while I can't stop you, not just sit down and give up."
"I'm not going to be in a battle," Riam said. "I don't want to strike you. I hate this, and you know it. It's wrong and vile and I don't want anything to do with taint-gifts. You can do what you like with yours. Just let me do what I like with mine."
"You can't assume you'll always be safe," Zalir said, sheathing her sword and kneeling in front of Riam. She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Your wards are perfect, and the guards do the best we can, but nobody can make any promises. You know that. And I know you -- if you have to use your gift or die, you'll use it, because you won't let the boundary fall. I want to make sure you know how to use it, and how to have the best chance of keeping your secret."
Riam closed his eyes. Zalir made sense. She always made sense; it was her most annoying trait. He still hated the idea that somehow, the miasma had tainted his gift for binding and turned it from a way to protect people into a way to control them.
"You didn't kill me, but you could have. That's close enough," Zalir said as she stood. "But I hope Kivarunanga Gydra is healthy and friendly. I'd rather take the magician out to the owl tower tomorrow, so she can see the trouble she's caused. I think she's too used to sweeping other people's problems out of her mind."
"I think you don't like her because she's more dangerous than you are," Riam said.
"That too," Zalir agreed with a smile. "Now get up, unless you want to brood so long you have to face the magician at breakfast all sweaty and stained in your practice tunic."
Riam shoved himself upright and chased Zalir out of the room, laughing as he ran.
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1) So that's Riam's secret -- I don't think it's as bad as he thinks it is, though he has cultural reasons for being hypersensitive, which will be revealed as I tell you more about the taint-house. I will tell you Zalir's secret later.
2) The long gap between updates? Partially due to lack of sleep, partially to the sudden presence of guests, and partially to getting halfway into this scene and suffering an attack of "oh god, my story is so stupid" insecurity... but mostly to computer troubles. *hates computer* I suspect it will fail again tomorrow, so goodness only knows when I will next get a chance to type up longhand sections and post them.
3) 1,150 words today, 17,700 total.
Ashes, part 13
---------------------------------------------
["Maybe," Riam said, but he ran a mental hand along the boundary as he walked, feeling the ragged edges of the tear Morgalen had made, and he wondered what else she might change before she left Zerlon.]
Riam dreamed of miasma, coiling black and thick like malevolent smoke as it twined through his fingers and around his wrists. No matter how much he gathered and twisted into submission, more coils always snaked forward, reaching hungrily toward the people at his back. And it burned -- but it burned cold, the bone-chilling burn of winter's darkest heart. His hands ached, and numbed, and bled, his skin raw and cracked, with blood dripping down to stain the tamed coils crimson.
He was used to the dream, and shoved it easily aside in the faint gray light of false dawn. The boundary was intact, his patch was holding over the tear, and today he might get to exchange techniques with a foreign binder -- assuming Kivarunanga Gydra was both awake and willing to speak with anyone other than Morgalen.
If she wasn't, he might be able to persuade Tir to let him and Sular ride on to the owl tower and fix the wards today instead of waiting for tomorrow. The taint-house was more or less on the way, after all, and there was no point in wasting several hours' journey.
Maybe Zalir would come too, leaving someone else to watch Morgalen for a while. That would be good. Since she'd become one of the three field commanders, Riam never saw her as often as he liked.
He spent the early morning distracted by thoughts of how to cajole Zalir into following him the way he'd always done on their childhood adventures. Meanwhile Zalir once again attempted to teach him how to fight, and she killed him twice in short order. She pulled her strikes at the last second, of course, but still sliced his tunic and broke his skin to make her point. Sweat ran down his body and the salt stung the edges of the shallow cuts.
"This is useless," Zalir said, stepping back and holding her sword at rest. "Your body is here, but where are you?"
Riam shrugged, wishing he'd managed to last a bit longer between fatal errors, if only so Zalir wouldn't be annoyed. But she'd asked, so he answered. "If Kivarunanga Gydra can't or won't speak with me and Sular, would you ride with us to the owl tower so we can fix the tear in the boundary?"
Zalir's face and posture didn't visibly change, and yet somehow she projected a clear sense of resigned amusement. "You never change," she said. Then she raised her sword again. "Here's a bargain: kill me once, and I'll take your side when you ask Tir. If she says yes, I'll come along."
"If you'd rather not, just say so," Riam said, raising his staff in suddenly weary arms.
"I said what I meant," Zalir told him. "Don't play stupid. Put that down and do it the real way."
"Zalir..."
"The real way or nothing."
Riam sighed. "Done." He looked over his shoulder, checking that the bar on the door was firmly settled into place -- but of course Zalir wouldn't have asked if there was any chance of an audience. His secret was hers too, if only because she'd kept it for so long, just as her secrets were also his. He just wished she wouldn't push him. He would be perfectly happy to let things lie, but that wasn't Zalir's way.
Riam turned back to face Zalir and planted his staff upright on the floor, his hands braced around the solid wood to give the illusion that he might pick it up at any moment. Then he opened himself to the soul of the world.
What he heard and saw faded into insignificance, swamped by a sea of temperature and texture, swirling over his skin like silk and weights and phantom thorns. In the distance, his own wards flared cool and smooth; miasma danced outside, its heavy wrongness drawing his attention like iron to lodestone.
Riam fought the urge to close his eyes, fought to keep a sliver of his attention fixed on the sight of Zalir's body moving toward him, her sword poised to strike. He found the knot of the world that both shadowed and formed her physical self -- wound his mental fingers into the threads -- and held.
"Stop," he said.
She did.
After a moment, Riam slid to the ground, still holding the staff in his hands and Zalir's soul in his mind. After another moment, he remembered she couldn't speak until he released her.
He let go of the threads.
Zalir stumbled forward, her momentum destroyed and her target obviously no longer where she'd expected. She managed not to trip over Riam, however. "You need to stop giving it away by speaking," she said once she'd recovered her balance. "One person falling down here and there is easy to overlook in a battle. People falling down right after you tell them to fall down is much harder not to see. Also, you're supposed to strike me while I can't stop you, not just sit down and give up."
"I'm not going to be in a battle," Riam said. "I don't want to strike you. I hate this, and you know it. It's wrong and vile and I don't want anything to do with taint-gifts. You can do what you like with yours. Just let me do what I like with mine."
"You can't assume you'll always be safe," Zalir said, sheathing her sword and kneeling in front of Riam. She laid her hand on his shoulder. "Your wards are perfect, and the guards do the best we can, but nobody can make any promises. You know that. And I know you -- if you have to use your gift or die, you'll use it, because you won't let the boundary fall. I want to make sure you know how to use it, and how to have the best chance of keeping your secret."
Riam closed his eyes. Zalir made sense. She always made sense; it was her most annoying trait. He still hated the idea that somehow, the miasma had tainted his gift for binding and turned it from a way to protect people into a way to control them.
"You didn't kill me, but you could have. That's close enough," Zalir said as she stood. "But I hope Kivarunanga Gydra is healthy and friendly. I'd rather take the magician out to the owl tower tomorrow, so she can see the trouble she's caused. I think she's too used to sweeping other people's problems out of her mind."
"I think you don't like her because she's more dangerous than you are," Riam said.
"That too," Zalir agreed with a smile. "Now get up, unless you want to brood so long you have to face the magician at breakfast all sweaty and stained in your practice tunic."
Riam shoved himself upright and chased Zalir out of the room, laughing as he ran.
---------------
---------------
---------------
1) So that's Riam's secret -- I don't think it's as bad as he thinks it is, though he has cultural reasons for being hypersensitive, which will be revealed as I tell you more about the taint-house. I will tell you Zalir's secret later.
2) The long gap between updates? Partially due to lack of sleep, partially to the sudden presence of guests, and partially to getting halfway into this scene and suffering an attack of "oh god, my story is so stupid" insecurity... but mostly to computer troubles. *hates computer* I suspect it will fail again tomorrow, so goodness only knows when I will next get a chance to type up longhand sections and post them.
3) 1,150 words today, 17,700 total.
