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The Topic of the Day is: Monday, June 25, 2007 | |
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The footprints Indara had been following were beginning to fade. The dryness of the flat heath blurred passage to a few distortions here and there. Indara cursed to herself, pushing through a patch of scrubby bush to track. One hand pulled at the reins of the stubborn horse, urging him after her--it would have been impossible to track from the saddle. Overhead, the moon shimmered behind vaporous silver clouds, white against an indigo sky. The wind made Indara shiver, and the moonlight cast long shadows from the undergrowth, but she ignored them. A tiny scrap of cloth caught among the thorns brought an exclamation to her lips, and she pushed herself onwards with renewed energy. When she reached the top of a rise, she hesitated for a moment to get a sense of her surroundings. Boulders littered the countryside amongst the withered heath, and the moonlight hid things in their shadows. Her sharp eyes darted across the weird landscape until she spotted, on the far horizon, a hint of movement. She seized the reins with wild glee and pulled herself up, bareback. The creature, perhaps weary from the long journey, was reluctant to gallop, but she urged him on with a sharp slap of the reins, and his hooves appropriately thundered along the scrub, kicking up dust. They bore down on the distant figure swiftly, and within a few minutes Indara pulled the horse to a stop and dropped to the ground. "Kaina!" she said sharply. The woman halted her stumbling stride, rocking a little on her heels, and then looked up. Her face, covered in moonlight, was as dark as Indara's own, and she watched Indara pull blankets from the horse's back as if from a great distance. When the soldier had wrapped them around her and pushed her up onto horseback, she did not resist, but willingly complied, nor did she make any sort of gesture once Indara had launched herself up behind her. "Gods," Indara muttered, turning the horse and slapping the reins to get him moving again, "You are chilled something awful." She closed her arms around Kaina and hugged her tight. Kaina smiled a little and leaned back against her. On horseback, the distance she had covered so laboriously since the previous day faded quickly, and soon the heath gave way to sandy hills, which faded into a grassy plain cut by a stream. On the very edge of the horizon the town was visible, but between them and it were only small farmsteads. She allowed the horse to slow and turned him a little north, towards the tower. They dismounted at the gate—a looming structure pieced together from huge, shattered chunks of dark stone—and Indara pulled the scarves back from her face, revealing dark eyes and dark skin and a nose that had been broken and ill-set at some time in the distant past. “You are foolish, my dear,” she muttered in a low tone, trying to keep the edge of bitterness from it. Taking the horse’s reins with one hand and Kaina’s elbow with the other, she dragged both through the gate. Kaina shook herself free indignantly. “Hush, Indara.” She waited while Indara wiped down the horse and put him into the stable yard. “I would have made it. I was almost there.” “You would have frozen to death, and in the morning I would have been able to follow the vultures to your picked bones.” Indara closed the gate and strode after Kaina as the older woman made her way to the great wooden door and opened it with a great effort, the veins standing out at her wrists. Inside it was warm and stank of sour wine and ash; the moonlight through the one high, narrow window cast the rest of the room into deepest shadow. The hearthfire had faded to a shifting bed of embers. A candle, unlit, stood on the round table, its lower half disappearing into shadow. Kaina called the flame to it, the sweet words ringing in the warm, small space that served as kitchen and living room. A tiny gust of fire drifted from the hearth and twisted itself around the blackened wick, and the golden light pooled across the table, throwing its scars into bright relief against the varnished surface. Indara caught it up quickly, making the shadows bob along the surface of the various plates and pans and cutlery that lay on the long table under the window. When she turned again, Kaina was at the door to the stairs, holding out her hand She crossed the room and took it, instinctively finding her niche between the fingers and palm. The honeyed light poured itself up along Kaina's face, hiding her eyes in pools of darkness. They both smiled. They went up the stairs, the cold wind pouring down over them from the crack beneath the highest door. The bedroom was a small, warm escape. Kaina, exhausted from the previous day's journey, fell asleep quickly, and Indara soon followed. Indara woke when amber sunlight fell into the room through the linen sheet they had nailed over the high window. She watched the square of brilliance move slowly down the far, gray stone wall until it brushed the top of the oaken door. Then Kaina stirred beside her, making a low groan in the back of her throat. She turned over, the blankets falling from around her bare shoulders. Indara unconsciously reached out and touched the exposed skin, where a scar would have been along her own shoulder blade. Kaina opened her eyes sleepily, and smiled at her. Indara laid back and let her snake an arm around her stomach, lying her head between her breasts. She kissed the trail of circular scars across one breast, and then the other. At one time the reminder of the marks would have been too painful for Indara, but she had been with Kaina for seven years now, and the touch of her mouth at her flesh today brought forth far more pleasant memories. She stroked Kaina's long dark hair, twining it around one hand. "Good morning, my love," she said. Kaina grinned at her and echoed the greeting. They lay together until the sun had chased the bright square of light near to the floor. At last they rose and dressed unhurriedly, speaking of the garden and the housework--small, casual things. They did not mention the night before. The sunlight slid hotly along their sweating shoulders as they knelt in the damp earth, ripping weeds from their grips upon the carrots and potatoes. When the garden lay in clean furrows once again, Kaina wiped the sweat from her head and pulled her dark hair back from her face with one dirt-covered hand. "We need water," she said. Indara nodded, stepping briefly into the cool shade of the kitchen to seize the four buckets. They crossed the meadow that surrounded their tower without words. The grass was yellowed and dry, swaying slightly beneath a brilliant hot sky. A fat bee bumped from one purple weed to the next, swollen with pollen. Indara watched his flight indifferently, her legs churning automatically along the path. When she glanced at Kaina's face to see if she, also, noticed him, she clenched her teeth quickly, for the distant expression had returned to the older woman's eyes. Kaina walked slowly, her eyes focused on some distant point on the horizon. She stepped around a swollen lilac bush, her mouth hanging slack, oblivious to the world around her. Indara looked away, biting the inside of her cheek so hard it brought tears to her eyes. The smell of lilacs was overwhelming, and she shook herself free of the cloying scent. She slowed her pace so that she would not lose Kaina on the way. T hey meandered along until they entered the woods, the ebony patches of cool shade from the trees a startling relief after the sun, like a splash of water in the face. Kaina did not seem to notice. While she did not run into any trees, she stumbled frequently on roots and stones, and more than once Indara stretched out an arm and caught her. But still her eyes focused, almost unseeing, on a distant horizon, and her head was tilted slightly to one side, as if she were listening to someone whispering. At length, she dropped a bucket. The resounding crash that shivered through the woods woke her from her reverie. She looked up, her eyes suddenly focused, and for a moment she seemed not startled, but angry. Then her eyes crinkled into a smile, and she bent to pick up the bucket. "How clumsy of me," she said, turning to give her a full smile, and Indara was washed instantly with a wave of guilty relief. After a moment she returned the smile, and quietly pointed out alecost and borage as they passed the various plants. By the stream, the fast moving water dappled with light, they found and picked mushrooms. The stream was running low--it had been dry for a week--and there was the fetid stink of a rotting animal corpse nearby--Indara found it in a clearing off to one side, a small fox almost indistinguishable with decay and picked over by other scavengers. She had not brought her bow but Kaina took out two sparrows with her sling. With these prizes and their buckets filled with water, they made their way quickly back along the path to the tower. Kaina picked some lilacs when they passed the long, overgrown row of bushes again, brushing aside the murmuring bees with her small, neat fingers. Urden, the horse, greeted them just inside the tower gate. Indara muttered a few choice curses--one of the bars of the fence had collapsed. She left the water in the kitchen and went to assess the damage. The fence pole had rotted--it would require much work to repair properly. For the time being she led Urden to the pen and tied the bar back in place with a couple of thongs, a temporary solution. At least he had not eaten the garden. When Indara entered the kitchen she found Kaina at the table, pulling the beaks out of the sparrows, water over the hearth waiting to boil. "What are you doing?" she demanded, surprised. Kaina flashed her a grin. "I was going to do some cooking," she explained. Her expression was innocent as she gestured with a knife at the dried potatoes and onions of last season, lined up along the table. Indara snatched the knife from her hand as if she might damage it. "Gods help us," she muttered, and moved in to take the spot that Kaina vacated with a laugh. "Last time you cooked you burned the food." "It was hard to do!" Kaina protested. "You were making stew!" As Kaina, laughing, finished cleaning the birds, Indara deftly sliced the mushrooms and onions, carved the potatoes into chunks, and moved the water a little back from the flames. She slid the mess into the pot and grinned as the smell of onions filled the warm kitchen. "Is there any cider left?" Kaina filled two mugs from the barrel. "There is enough," she said. "Gardening is thirsty work. We shall have to go to town again soon." Indara busied herself over the hearth, making sure that the stew would not over boil. She found a loaf of bread under a cloth on the corner of one table, and a piece of cheese that had not gone too bad, hidden in the cupboard. Gathering plates and spoons, she set the table noisily, glancing at Kaina. The older woman blinked a few times at the plate before her, her lips twisted in a frown. Indara had turned away before she could turn that disappointed gaze on her. They ate quietly. Indara explained the broken fence. Kaina mentioned she would like to finish a piece on the loom before they went to town to barter. The fire burned low and the setting sun turned the room first sulfurous, and then golden, and then dusty auburn. The barrier of the unspoken that lay between them was almost tangible in the growing dusk, and Indara had to suppress the urge to rage against it. Kaina ate, and drank, but as the sun set she said less and less, until she fell silent altogether, staring at the hearth. Indara watched her for a few minutes, cleaned up the dishes, but after a while it became unbearable and she could not keep herself from calling out, "Kaina." She looked up quickly, and she could not keep the irritation from showing along her face. After a moment, she looked down again. "I am tired," she said, and in an instant she was on her feet and gone up the stairs, the door slamming in a gust of wind from the highest door. Indara gritted her teeth and clenched a spoon so hard that her knuckles turned white, then slammed her fist into the table. She stood over the table, both fists planted there, shaking slightly in frustration. It was intolerable! Kaina knew how much her distance disturbed Indara but she still did nothing to stop it, nor did she even understand when Indara could not help but react to the trances-- But that was unfair. Indara brushed one hand across her eyes, cold, reluctant acceptance cooling the furious trembling of her limbs. The moon had turned the room to shades of silver and gray, and she found a candle and lit it from the hearth, getting a face full of smoke as the wind howled down the chimney. Coughing, she wiped her face and went to the bedroom. The even rise and fall of her ribcage showed that Kaina was already asleep on the mattress; Indara left the candle on the table, undressed, and slid in beside her. She reached out gently and smoothed Kaina's hair, her touch feather-light; Kaina neither stirred nor woke. The next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all. The sky that woke them was red, and dark clouds gathered distantly. Indara left Kaina weaving and set out in search of a new post for the fence. The air was humid with early morning warmth and the coming storm, and the bees were nowhere to be seen. Across the meadow, a crow dipped and rose, winging rapidly past the distant columns of smoke that marked the town and its chimneys. Indara moved swiftly down the path towards the stream, and she had not gone far in the woods before she found a branch of suitable size. She used her knife to trim the greenery from it, then threw it over her shoulder and made her way back to the tower. By the time she reached the gate, the hot wind from the direction of the wasteland had gathered dark silver clouds above the yellowed hillsides. The dry meadow grasses whistled and hissed, ducking before the coming storm. She put Urden into the stable, where he could safely wait out the weather, and checked to make sure the shutters were closed over the window in the kitchen. When she moved to the bedroom to repeat the task, it was empty. The small loom stood on the trunk, the rug on it all but finished. It was a bold design, swirls of crimson and yellow along a black and gray background. There was no sign of Kaina. She forced herself not to panic--brushing strands of hair from her face in spite of the rising wind, she made her way steadily to the tower's gate and looked around. The dark clouds were loosing a hissing rain, and before them was driven the fine dust from the heath. It was unpleasantly hot, and the gusty swirls of wind could not drive away the stagnant reek of hot metal, a forewarning of lightning. There was no sign of anything else moving, except the clouds driven across the yellowed hills, threatening and dark. She turned and strode across the inner courtyard, passing a cursory glance over the garden, and checked the stable. Inside, it smelled of horse and dung and hay, and Urden looked up, curious, from his meal. It had begun to rain--large, cold drops splattered amongst the furrows in the garden, marked darkened circles in the sandy grass. There was the sound first of lightning, a harsh, tearing noise, and the whole world flickered white for a moment, and then thunder chased afterwards, making her very bones shudder. Deep breaths. Do not fret. Check everywhere twice. She forced herself not to run, moving again through the tower. Not in the pantry, nor in the kitchen. Not in the bedroom. Not on the stairs, or in the stair closet. Hot wind poured down around her. She glanced up at the ill-set upper door--she could see dim light through its cracks. When the wind swelled around her again it wavered on its rusty hinges. Perhaps she would be able to see better from the ruined room above. She pounded up the stairs and thrust open the scarred oak door. The little space at the top of the tower could scarcely be called a room. Most of its walls were missing, and only pillars and the remnants of window frames kept the crumbling roof from merging with the blue-stoned floor. The storm wind swept through it, making the structure groan a little as if with age. Huge droplets burst like bubbles against the strange blue tiles. The markings on the floor were so faded that they were scarcely more than grooves among the shiny cobalt stone. There was one stool, a decrepit three-legged monstrosity that looked as if it might at any moment dissolve beneath the rain, and a heavy chest ornately carved with the image of a tree. A knife lay on the chair, on top of a pile of what looked like glittering black sand. Beyond the outline of old doorways and giant windows, a crumbling ledge with a thin wall encircled the tower. Kaina stood upon the very parapets, pressing her face into the coming storm. Rain slashed across her upturned face but she did not even flinch against it. Once and a while she would open her eyes, but it seemed to make little difference, for she was not seeing what was there. Her hair had been chopped off above the chin. Indara scarcely recognized her with the dark curtain so ravaged, yet she moved automatically into the storm to seize the woman's elbow. The rain poured tumultuous down over her shoulders, soaking her instantly. Kaina was already soaked, the thin dress material doing little to keep out the elements. She did not appear to be cold but her elbow to the touch was like ice. "Kaina!" she called above the harsh crack of lightning that split a tree two hilltops over. "You cannot stay here." Kaina looked at her with shut eyes, and Indara shrank from the gaze, for nothing in it recognized her. For a moment the lids were opened--the once brown gaze seemed first yellow, then silver, now the color of the aged and desiccated grasses, now the color of the storm's clouds overhead. It did not see her. It looked beyond her, as if searching for something that she might carry deep within her soul, but not otherwise concerned with her. She spoke. The voice was as detached from the shell that was Kaina as the gaze had been. It had no place in her body, and for it to actually have sounded through her lips was unthinkable. "They are calling to me," she said, and her tone was low and silvery, filled with wolves and the echoes of bells. "They are speaking to me." She tilted her head sideways, the familiar gesture looking foreign with the blank and unseeing gaze in her face. "They will not wait much longer." Indara's words withered in her throat. "Where?" she rasped. Kaina turned again into the storm. "East," she said, the rain flecking across her cheeks like foam. Lightning flashed, impossibly close, leaving Indara to stumble unhearing for a few moments underneath the beating rain. The sound tore at her ears and made her sob in pain--she clutched at the sides of her head and clenched her teeth. When she looked up, Kaina had fallen to the floor. Cold wind blew the autumn leaves across the stone floor of the church. The door shut again quickly, but the draft had woken Indara. She lifted her head quickly, dashing sleep from her eyes, and turned around. Beyond the row of stone pews and dark wooden benches, between two stained glass windows that stretched the height of the room, stood Lord Dorsen Nistera. He moved down the aisle between the seats towards the head of the large, arched cathedral, where a dozen candles now burned low. His long fur cloak scratched the leaves along the floor. Behind him was the priest, Brother Helinta, in his ubiquitous dirty brown frock. Before they could reach the candlelit alcove, Indara was on her feet. She did not draw her sword or put an arrow to her bow, but her stance was threatening nonetheless. Lord Dorsen halted just before her, a little too close. He smelled of sweat and the rank oil that he used to subdue his beard, and of wine, but not heavily so. The priest smelt as if he had not washed in months, which, given his vows, might well have been true. The camphor and incense she had burned before she fell asleep were not enough to overcome them. "What are you doing here?" she said in a low tone. "You will make her unclean during the ceremony, and it will all be for naught." Lord Dorsen shifted uncomfortably. "It has been days since I have seen my daughter," he grumbled. "She must be pure to seek the cause of her vision quest." She shifted her gaze to the priest. "And you! You know the ceremony, and you suggested its performance. How dare you befoul her purification?" Brother Helinta would not meet her eyes. "Lord Dorsen asked me to accompany him. We wish to see Lady Kaina." "No one has ever been in purification for so long," said Lord Dorsen desperately. "Is she ill?" "If she cannot become clean now, how will she follow the vision that she hears?" queried the priest. "We must see to her and care for her. It is too soon." "Not until it is done." Indara squared her stance. "She said she was ready. Have faith in your daughter; the Goddess shall do her work through her. Is that not how it is taught, Brother Helinta? She shall not be interrupted while seeking." There came a clatter from the front of the room. A bowl of incense, carefully laid beside the meditating Kaina, had been knocked over--the girl had fallen. Forgetting the two men, Indara rushed to her side. She gently lifted her into her lap. "Kaina?" she whispered. It had been five days since Kaina had said a word. The two men gathered in the background, concern showing itself in their faces, but they did not speak. Kaina's eyelids fluttered. She muttered something, and then coughed against the sacred smoke, and spoke again. "East," she whispered. "They bid me... to come." The storm had died to a drumming of rain against the bedroom shutters by the time Kaina woke. Indara, nodding off on the chest beside the table, jerked fully awake when she saw Kaina move. She immediately lit two more candles, and in their flickering light she helped the older woman sit up. "What happened?" Kaina queried bleakly once Indara had given her a tankard of hot wine. Labels: dragon's voices |
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My Other Writing Sites | |
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Webcomics | |
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Stories I'm currently working on. | |
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***Tbook1 (Time and Chaos, needs a new name, needs to be edited) ***Book of Sun (Just needs to be edited. Tis a Nano novel) ***Book of Whispers part 1 (Does not jive at all with part 2; needs to be rewritten to fit and to have less suckage) ***Book of Whispers part 2 (Needs some rehaul editing, needs some loose ends tied up, needs to fit) ***Book of Whispers part 3 (Needs to be finished... then needs to die o.o Not sure if I need a third part in the series) ***Dium's Story (Needs a point, progress, anything... needs to be integrated into Tbook1, since that is what it is a part of, mainly) ***Trio Story with Jackie and Louise (Maybe we should get together and work on this, guys) ***Demon Story (This is working out pretty good so far. I like the plot, it's a bit convoluted, and the characters are interesting) ***New Witch Story (It's only 30 pages long, dang) ***Dragon's Voices (This has SO much potential! wee!) | |
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