Fan Fiction ❯ Rhapsody of Time ❯ Overture ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Violet_Nyte 
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy / Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 03.24.2004 | Pages: 5 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 144 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Fantasy / Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 03.24.2004 | Pages: 5 | Words: 3.7K | Visits: 144 | Status: Work In Progress
LSE // 3-7-04
(Rhapsody of Time - Chapter Two: Overture)
rated: R - language, themes, violence, content
shounen-ai/yaoi
Overture
-
//Betraying reign encloses
//a simpler life unimagined
//call the war, bide the dark
//all around is sorrow
The fluttering melody weaved between the smoke and chatter of the
filled tavern room, a lively assortment of soldiers, farmers and
merchants. A woman's shrill laugh broke through the song, and the
singer on stage lifted the notes ever higher. A handful of faces
turned to the sound and were caught in the music, faces going blank
with rapt enchantment.
//A hundred years my fathers sang
//ne'er a hundred more
//but through the ancient tales
//a hope still remains
From the back of the tavern, a white-robed figure pushed back the
draped cowl to expose a fiery shine of red hair, short-cropped and
standing upright across the crown. Wide lips smirked into an odd smile
as the young man stepped away from the wall and through the noisy
crowd. "Honestly, Erithe..." he muttered, advancing towards the lifted
platform. The pale robes drew the curious eye of a few, but only until
they caught sight of the swirling crest emblazed across the back in
tiny, intricate embroidery. The design was of an stylized eye circled
by flame; the mark of a Seer. Those curious eyes jumped back to
companions and drink as if they had never strayed.
//The silver prince of valor
//gone but not forgotten
//to rise again, to fight the war
//a hero in shining armor
He caught the glance of a serving girl and beckoned to her as he
claimed an empty table close to the stage. The singer, head bowed
with a pale curtain of long blonde hair obscuring the dance of nimble
fingers over the harp strings, released the soar of melody, dipping
the music below the hum of tavern noises until only the faint strains
of the harp remained. That, too, faded, and the singer set aside the
instrument as the sweet tenor voice took back up the melody.
//A hundred years my fathers sang
//ne'er a hundred more
//but through the ancient tales
//a hope still remains
The blonde veil parted before the brush of slender fingers, and the
singer met the robed young man's gaze.
"Couldn't you play something with more cheer, Erithe?" the Seer asked
with a wide smirk, nodding the serving girl away and taking up his
mug in mock salute to the singer. "Or something less likely to land
you in the stocks?"
Unphased by the coarse words, Erithe beamed a smile and hopped down
from the stage. "Timerell! No kind words of greeting from my old
friend, I see?"
"Old? I'm scarce past twenty-five summers, you brat!"
Clear blue eyes rolled in exasperation as Erithe took the other seat
at the small table. He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled
free a thin length of ribbon before gathering back the long fall of
gold hair. "Why did you wear your robes? Everyone's staring at us,"
he whispered, tying the ribbon.
Timerell flicked a disinterested glance around the room, "Says the
boy who just sung a forbidden song."
A sad look crossed the bard's face, and he lowered his gaze to the
table. "As if anyone was listening. Besides, I didn't bother to sing
the third verse."
"I was listening," Timerell said crossly, folding his arms and
kicking back in his chair, leather boots thunking atop the table.
"You should be more careful," he chided, concern twisting the smirk
and drawing red-flame brows down low over dark blue eyes.
Erithe's cheeks flushed and he avoided looking at his friend. He
traced over the woodgrain pattern of the table for a moment before
cautiously raising his gaze, "I didn't know you frequented taverns.
I thought your kind were forbidden from drink," he added, gesturing
to the clay mug in the other man's hands.
He tilted the cup in question, "Just water. Drink muddles the mind
and clouds the Sight. I came here to see you," Timerell explained,
lifting his boots from the table and leaning forward, elbows planted.
"Orders from Lienka."
"Lienka?" Erithe sat straighter, smile fading from his lips. "She said
she didn't want me involved anymore. Something about a lack of trust,"
he said bitterly, face darkening.
"Someone convinced her that she was being a pretentious bitch,"
Timerell said lightly. "Erithe, you and her both know you're one of
the best we have. I don't understand why you two always have to be
fighting and I could really care less, but don't let it interfere
with our work. Now, you want this assignment or not?"
For a few seconds, he debated saying no just to show Lienka up, but
dismissed the idea as childish. "Of course. What is it?"
Timerell rose from his chair and extended a hand to the bard, "We
can't discuss it here. Do you have a room?"
Erithe lightly pressed his fingers to Timerell's as he stood, "Yes,
but just barely. I'm staying in the stable, in the loft."
"Singing for your supper again? No wonder you stay so thin," Timerell
smirked and turned gracefully to stride across the tavern, white robes
fluttering with the motion. Erithe blinked in surprise before
hurrying back to the stage and gathering up his instruments, packing
the harp into its case with a loving care. He slung the cases over
his back and headed for the kitchen, nodding towards the tavern
mistress as he went.
Since the fight with Lienka, he'd been sulking around the countryside
playing at inns and taverns, waiting for an opportunity like this;
back in action, after a long spring of nothing! Already he tired of
singing to deaf listeners and trying to call pride from beaten souls,
to flame the embers of the revolution when the average citizen only
wanted to drink away the suffering of the false reign. He was fully
devoted to only two things: music, and the Betrayer's fall. Robbed of
the means to bring about the uprising, even music seemed unimportant.
He crossed the kitchen and emerged out back just in time to see the
last flash of Timerell's robes disappearing around the stable doors.
"Seems we have the place to ourselves," he said with a sweep of a
hand as Erithe entered, smirking at the horses and empty stalls.
"Are you staying the night here?" Erithe asked, pulling down the
ladder that led up into the loft. He hurried up and set the cases
over in the corner next to his unfurled bedroll. He crouched there in
the straw and hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the ladder.
"Timerell," he called, edging over to the ledge and peering down at
the stable floor below. "Timerell?"
The embroidered design on the back of his friend's robes fluttered
along with the folds of white fabric, tugged into dance by a breeze
that circled only the Seer. The Eye of Sight stared up at Erithe from
the design, and he let out a sharp gasp as the threads shone with
other-world luminance, a dazzling array of color and light. Faster
the wind spun, swirling the fabric against Timerell's legs and
sweeping the short crop of red-flame hair this way and that,
like a summer gale through prairie grass.
"Timerell!" Erithe shouted again, but the Seer remained motionless,
deaf to the bard's cries. He scrambled down the ladder, falling the
last few rungs in his hurry, but was held at bay by the wind, which
howled when Erithe tried to get close. "Timerell!"
Eddies of dirt and rock danced, gently at first, then with a violent
speed as the wind increased. Pebbles bounced off Timerell's body and
were flung outside the zephyr, crashing into the walls and doors of
the stable. The horses reared and pranced within the stalls nervously,
and Erithe raised both hands over his face to protect himself from the
projectiles. Suddenly, the wind raced away from the Seer, dirt and
debris raining down on Erithe, Timerell and the horses.
"-rell!" Erithe's final shriek echoed into the abrupt silence.
Cautiously, he lowered his hands just in time to see Timerell start a
fluid collapse to the ground. He dove forward, catching the older man
and easing him down. "Timerell?"
Pale lashes quavered, then opened, exposing dark blue eyes that
stared vaguely before focusing on the blur of Erithe's face. "I'm
fine," Timerell said immediately to the unasked question, smirking
for emphasis.
Erithe helped his friend to sit and put a restraining hand on his
shoulder. "Don't stand just yet. I think a rock hit your head," he
reached out and gingerly touched the purple bruise on the Seer's
forehead.
The man pulled away with a scowl, "Well don't poke it! I'm fine," he
insisted with a sullen glance towards his friend. "Are you alright?"
He nodded and reached back to untie his hair, which had been tossled
relentlessly by the gales. He shook out the blond mass and ran a few
quick fingers through to settle out the worst of the tangles. "I'm
just a bit shaken is all. Timerell, what was that? Was it a Vision?"
Timerell's expression turned grim. "Unfortunately. A strong reaction,
too, judging by the damage," he added, observing the disorder of the
stable and feeling bruises begin to join the throbbing ache of his
skull. "Normally they aren't like that," he said quietly, a shadow
stealing the trademark smirk from his mouth.
"I've never seen anything like that happen before with you," Erithe
said in a tone tinged with concern for more then just a few bruises.
Timerell was the strongest Seers in a hundred years and, as such, did
not suffer the same attacks as most Seers. He frowned with concern,
"What was it about?"
Timerell stood, brushing aside Erithe's restraining grip. "Lienka's
made a mistake. Looks like you'll have to wait for a different
assignment," he said, smoothing out the folds of his robes. "Are you
going to be staying in the capital much longer?"
"Timerell! What's going on? Are you sure you're alright? Timerell,
you've gone white a sheet. Are you going to faint? Here, sit back
down again," the slender bard persuaded the other man back down to
the stable's dirt floor and knelt over him with concern. Trying for a
disinterested scowl, Timerell ended up giving a troubled frown, which
only caused his friend more worry.
"Stop fussing, Erithe. You're worse then my mother."
The bard sat back on his heels, unsure if the words were simply a
misplaced joke or something more concerning. Timerell's family lived
in the north along the harsh slopes of the mountains, where small
villages went for months without serviceable roads in the winter,
isolated by fierce blizzards. Early spring snow melts just a few
months ago had created flooding and mud slides, wrecking havoc on the
mountain homes and villages. Two Seers, one of them Timerell, were
given Visions of the disasters only days before they occurred.
Hundreds of people were evacuated to safety, hundreds of lives saved,
but Timerell's mother had perished along with two cousins. The
mud slide that took their lives had not been Seen by anyone, not even
Timerell.
Dark shadows danced over Timerell's face, and Erithe sensed the Seer
starting to loose focus. Despite many years of friendship with the
young man, Erithe had never been around many Seers; most lived under
constant threat from Visions, debilitating Visions that sent them
spiraling into chaos and confusion. The stronger the Seer, the
stronger the threshold, and many of those without Timerell's strength
lived cloistered lives at the Sanctuary.
So to find his friend joking so lightly about a woman whom he had
barely mentioned since the accident was very disconcerting for Erithe.
"Timerell," he hazarded, resist the urge to wave his hand in front of
the Seer's face, "this is weird, okay?" He suppressed his concern to
project a calm he did not feel.
Hazed blue eyes focused, slowly, and Timerell's smile, although
cautious and slightly abashed, returned. "Right," he agreed a bit
absently.
"What was the Vision about?" Erithe pressed, almost positive it had
to do with him. Why else would Timerell so abruptly change his mind
about Lienka's orders? 'Dammit, 'Merell, I need this assignment!' he
thought bitterly, but then quickly smothered such feelings after a
rising stab of guilt. Reason was rapidly returning to Timerell's
sapphire depths, but the young man seemed shaken to the core by
whatever had been in the Vision. A Seer's life was very bleak,
constantly Seeing disaster and pain with very little opportunity to
intervene.
"You," Timerell admitted, but then instantly looked to regret it.
"No, forget I said that. Erithe, I can't tell you. You know that.
There's a reason we have to report all Visions to the Council! Can
you realize how dangerous what we do is? We have codes, we have order,
we have rules to keep from unraveling Time! If I tell you, if I tell
you.. Erithe, what if it's not something we can prevent? What if it
has to happen? What if--"
The last words were rising into hysteria, and Erithe gave his friend's
shoulders a hard shake. "Timerell! Calm down and try to remember I
don't know the rules, okay? And you're suppose to give me orders from
Lienka... if you don't, isn't that intervening?"
The Seer shook his head, "I don't know, Erithe. I think that's a risk
I'm willing to take, because the Vision is directly related to your
assignment. Maybe it's a warning to me, saying not to let you go."
"Is the Vision tied to me, or the assignment?" he asked quietly.
Timerell hesitated, eyes going unfocused again, Seeing something no
one else could. "The assignment," he said in a vague tone, still
focused inward, "your assignment."
Although he felt a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of Timerell's
confusion, Erithe pressed his luck. If he could only get the
assignment out of his friend, Timerell and Lienka's objections would
be moot points. I need this, he thought again. Please forgive me,
friend. "Then if you don't tell me, if you pick someone else, you're
cursing that person to whatever fate lies down that road. You know me,
'Merell, you know I'll give my life, without hesitation to see the
Betrayer down from power. I would do anything! I don't care what the
consequences are."
"Don't," Timerell said harshly, "please don't say that. Lienka's made
a mistake, if I just tell her, she'll have to reconsider."
"'Merell, is this assignment important?" the bard asked, manipulating
a little of his talent to demand the truth. Music, after all, was
linked to the soul.
"Yes," the Seer admitted reluctantly.
"If it's linked to the assignment," his voice remained quiet and
Erithe carefully focused on folding his fingers together has he spoke,
weaving subtle suggestions within the words, "and the assignment is
very important, someone has to take it. Am I the best person for the
job, Timerell, or is there anyone better suited Lienka can pick?"
The Seer sighed with the air of defeat, "You're the only one who knows
the Old Capital well enough."
"You know better then me Visions aren't always doomed to come true,"
he added, the final twist in the lock. He gave a gentle push of
persuasion and the tension vanished from his friend's shoulders.
"Just don't do anything stupid," the Seer warned, eyeing Erithe
dubiously. "And... Gods, Erithe, be careful," he pleaded, and real
concern shining through.
The bard felt a tremor of apprehension, but it was soon followed by
fierce determination. "Don't you dare tell me what the Vision is
about until the Council says otherwise. Maybe I'm not suppose to know
the details, but just having the warning is enough to prevent it.
After all, why else would it come to you now?"
"Because if that Vision had come to anyone else," Timerell said
carefully, "we would have a dead Seer on our hands."
Unable to stop himself, Erithe shivered. "Now I'm not sure I want to
know even if the Council says yes. Ignorance is bliss, my friend," the
bard said lightly, trying to hide the growing knot of apprehension.
"Knowledge is power," Timerell returned easily, a sure sigh he was
getting a firm grip back on reality. Hiding his relief, Erithe helped
the Seer stand without making it seem like his true purpose. The Seer
rolled one shoulder and winced at the soft cracking noise that
resounded through the joint. "I've got to head back to the Sanctuary
as soon as possible, preferably right now."
"Can you give me the assignment on the way?"
Timerell shook his head, "You'll have to wait until the Council gets
done with me - there won't be much left, but I'm pretty sure I'll
remember what the assignment was about. Try my rooms around eight...
if I'm not back yet, make yourself comfortable."
Erithe nodded and clasped his friend's shoulder gently, "Don't worry,
I'll tell Lienka I had to beat it out of you."
The Seer rolled blue eyes and flashed Erithe a grin, "Even with these
bruises, I doubt she'll believe a stick like you could beat anything
out of a mouse, much less me."
He gave the other man a push towards the stable doors, "Get on with
you, then! Maybe I'll tell her I seduced it out you with my charms."
"Oh, that she'll believe, but I doubt Rhaindel will be very happy."
The bard's cheeks flushed scarlet, much to Timerell's amusement.
Chuckling softly, he lifted the deep cowl over his head and hurried
outside, white robes fluttering along the ground. Watching his friend
leave, Erithe felt a small stab of guilt but quickly pushed it aside.
An assignment, he thought, eyes flashing with excitement as he turned
and scaled up the ladder to the loft.
-
-
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: Whew! Took me long enough, didn't it? Confused? Don't
worry, this is still the same story! It'll all become clear in future
chapters. I told you I was writing a novel here!
I got a new computer (finally!) and was distracted by all the pretty
hard drive space. Fortunately, all my stories made the trip over even
if some of my programs did not!
Shout outs to D and Tia and everyone who reviewed -- thanks! I know
you might want me to write other things, but this is something I've
put a lot of thought and energy into. As the story progresses, I'll
start a little reference site to help. I know it's hard to read a
story one chapter at a time! I've already sketched some maps and
things, and I have a new scanner, too!
Well, I'm out of things to say and eager to update. Take care!
Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated!
copyright 2003 - Original story
Email me to join my Update ML!
LSE - Violet Nyte (VioletNyteML@yahoo.com)
shameless plug - visit my website
http://violetnyte.fallenweb.net
(Rhapsody of Time - Chapter Two: Overture)
rated: R - language, themes, violence, content
shounen-ai/yaoi
Overture
-
//Betraying reign encloses
//a simpler life unimagined
//call the war, bide the dark
//all around is sorrow
The fluttering melody weaved between the smoke and chatter of the
filled tavern room, a lively assortment of soldiers, farmers and
merchants. A woman's shrill laugh broke through the song, and the
singer on stage lifted the notes ever higher. A handful of faces
turned to the sound and were caught in the music, faces going blank
with rapt enchantment.
//A hundred years my fathers sang
//ne'er a hundred more
//but through the ancient tales
//a hope still remains
From the back of the tavern, a white-robed figure pushed back the
draped cowl to expose a fiery shine of red hair, short-cropped and
standing upright across the crown. Wide lips smirked into an odd smile
as the young man stepped away from the wall and through the noisy
crowd. "Honestly, Erithe..." he muttered, advancing towards the lifted
platform. The pale robes drew the curious eye of a few, but only until
they caught sight of the swirling crest emblazed across the back in
tiny, intricate embroidery. The design was of an stylized eye circled
by flame; the mark of a Seer. Those curious eyes jumped back to
companions and drink as if they had never strayed.
//The silver prince of valor
//gone but not forgotten
//to rise again, to fight the war
//a hero in shining armor
He caught the glance of a serving girl and beckoned to her as he
claimed an empty table close to the stage. The singer, head bowed
with a pale curtain of long blonde hair obscuring the dance of nimble
fingers over the harp strings, released the soar of melody, dipping
the music below the hum of tavern noises until only the faint strains
of the harp remained. That, too, faded, and the singer set aside the
instrument as the sweet tenor voice took back up the melody.
//A hundred years my fathers sang
//ne'er a hundred more
//but through the ancient tales
//a hope still remains
The blonde veil parted before the brush of slender fingers, and the
singer met the robed young man's gaze.
"Couldn't you play something with more cheer, Erithe?" the Seer asked
with a wide smirk, nodding the serving girl away and taking up his
mug in mock salute to the singer. "Or something less likely to land
you in the stocks?"
Unphased by the coarse words, Erithe beamed a smile and hopped down
from the stage. "Timerell! No kind words of greeting from my old
friend, I see?"
"Old? I'm scarce past twenty-five summers, you brat!"
Clear blue eyes rolled in exasperation as Erithe took the other seat
at the small table. He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled
free a thin length of ribbon before gathering back the long fall of
gold hair. "Why did you wear your robes? Everyone's staring at us,"
he whispered, tying the ribbon.
Timerell flicked a disinterested glance around the room, "Says the
boy who just sung a forbidden song."
A sad look crossed the bard's face, and he lowered his gaze to the
table. "As if anyone was listening. Besides, I didn't bother to sing
the third verse."
"I was listening," Timerell said crossly, folding his arms and
kicking back in his chair, leather boots thunking atop the table.
"You should be more careful," he chided, concern twisting the smirk
and drawing red-flame brows down low over dark blue eyes.
Erithe's cheeks flushed and he avoided looking at his friend. He
traced over the woodgrain pattern of the table for a moment before
cautiously raising his gaze, "I didn't know you frequented taverns.
I thought your kind were forbidden from drink," he added, gesturing
to the clay mug in the other man's hands.
He tilted the cup in question, "Just water. Drink muddles the mind
and clouds the Sight. I came here to see you," Timerell explained,
lifting his boots from the table and leaning forward, elbows planted.
"Orders from Lienka."
"Lienka?" Erithe sat straighter, smile fading from his lips. "She said
she didn't want me involved anymore. Something about a lack of trust,"
he said bitterly, face darkening.
"Someone convinced her that she was being a pretentious bitch,"
Timerell said lightly. "Erithe, you and her both know you're one of
the best we have. I don't understand why you two always have to be
fighting and I could really care less, but don't let it interfere
with our work. Now, you want this assignment or not?"
For a few seconds, he debated saying no just to show Lienka up, but
dismissed the idea as childish. "Of course. What is it?"
Timerell rose from his chair and extended a hand to the bard, "We
can't discuss it here. Do you have a room?"
Erithe lightly pressed his fingers to Timerell's as he stood, "Yes,
but just barely. I'm staying in the stable, in the loft."
"Singing for your supper again? No wonder you stay so thin," Timerell
smirked and turned gracefully to stride across the tavern, white robes
fluttering with the motion. Erithe blinked in surprise before
hurrying back to the stage and gathering up his instruments, packing
the harp into its case with a loving care. He slung the cases over
his back and headed for the kitchen, nodding towards the tavern
mistress as he went.
Since the fight with Lienka, he'd been sulking around the countryside
playing at inns and taverns, waiting for an opportunity like this;
back in action, after a long spring of nothing! Already he tired of
singing to deaf listeners and trying to call pride from beaten souls,
to flame the embers of the revolution when the average citizen only
wanted to drink away the suffering of the false reign. He was fully
devoted to only two things: music, and the Betrayer's fall. Robbed of
the means to bring about the uprising, even music seemed unimportant.
He crossed the kitchen and emerged out back just in time to see the
last flash of Timerell's robes disappearing around the stable doors.
"Seems we have the place to ourselves," he said with a sweep of a
hand as Erithe entered, smirking at the horses and empty stalls.
"Are you staying the night here?" Erithe asked, pulling down the
ladder that led up into the loft. He hurried up and set the cases
over in the corner next to his unfurled bedroll. He crouched there in
the straw and hesitated, looking over his shoulder at the ladder.
"Timerell," he called, edging over to the ledge and peering down at
the stable floor below. "Timerell?"
The embroidered design on the back of his friend's robes fluttered
along with the folds of white fabric, tugged into dance by a breeze
that circled only the Seer. The Eye of Sight stared up at Erithe from
the design, and he let out a sharp gasp as the threads shone with
other-world luminance, a dazzling array of color and light. Faster
the wind spun, swirling the fabric against Timerell's legs and
sweeping the short crop of red-flame hair this way and that,
like a summer gale through prairie grass.
"Timerell!" Erithe shouted again, but the Seer remained motionless,
deaf to the bard's cries. He scrambled down the ladder, falling the
last few rungs in his hurry, but was held at bay by the wind, which
howled when Erithe tried to get close. "Timerell!"
Eddies of dirt and rock danced, gently at first, then with a violent
speed as the wind increased. Pebbles bounced off Timerell's body and
were flung outside the zephyr, crashing into the walls and doors of
the stable. The horses reared and pranced within the stalls nervously,
and Erithe raised both hands over his face to protect himself from the
projectiles. Suddenly, the wind raced away from the Seer, dirt and
debris raining down on Erithe, Timerell and the horses.
"-rell!" Erithe's final shriek echoed into the abrupt silence.
Cautiously, he lowered his hands just in time to see Timerell start a
fluid collapse to the ground. He dove forward, catching the older man
and easing him down. "Timerell?"
Pale lashes quavered, then opened, exposing dark blue eyes that
stared vaguely before focusing on the blur of Erithe's face. "I'm
fine," Timerell said immediately to the unasked question, smirking
for emphasis.
Erithe helped his friend to sit and put a restraining hand on his
shoulder. "Don't stand just yet. I think a rock hit your head," he
reached out and gingerly touched the purple bruise on the Seer's
forehead.
The man pulled away with a scowl, "Well don't poke it! I'm fine," he
insisted with a sullen glance towards his friend. "Are you alright?"
He nodded and reached back to untie his hair, which had been tossled
relentlessly by the gales. He shook out the blond mass and ran a few
quick fingers through to settle out the worst of the tangles. "I'm
just a bit shaken is all. Timerell, what was that? Was it a Vision?"
Timerell's expression turned grim. "Unfortunately. A strong reaction,
too, judging by the damage," he added, observing the disorder of the
stable and feeling bruises begin to join the throbbing ache of his
skull. "Normally they aren't like that," he said quietly, a shadow
stealing the trademark smirk from his mouth.
"I've never seen anything like that happen before with you," Erithe
said in a tone tinged with concern for more then just a few bruises.
Timerell was the strongest Seers in a hundred years and, as such, did
not suffer the same attacks as most Seers. He frowned with concern,
"What was it about?"
Timerell stood, brushing aside Erithe's restraining grip. "Lienka's
made a mistake. Looks like you'll have to wait for a different
assignment," he said, smoothing out the folds of his robes. "Are you
going to be staying in the capital much longer?"
"Timerell! What's going on? Are you sure you're alright? Timerell,
you've gone white a sheet. Are you going to faint? Here, sit back
down again," the slender bard persuaded the other man back down to
the stable's dirt floor and knelt over him with concern. Trying for a
disinterested scowl, Timerell ended up giving a troubled frown, which
only caused his friend more worry.
"Stop fussing, Erithe. You're worse then my mother."
The bard sat back on his heels, unsure if the words were simply a
misplaced joke or something more concerning. Timerell's family lived
in the north along the harsh slopes of the mountains, where small
villages went for months without serviceable roads in the winter,
isolated by fierce blizzards. Early spring snow melts just a few
months ago had created flooding and mud slides, wrecking havoc on the
mountain homes and villages. Two Seers, one of them Timerell, were
given Visions of the disasters only days before they occurred.
Hundreds of people were evacuated to safety, hundreds of lives saved,
but Timerell's mother had perished along with two cousins. The
mud slide that took their lives had not been Seen by anyone, not even
Timerell.
Dark shadows danced over Timerell's face, and Erithe sensed the Seer
starting to loose focus. Despite many years of friendship with the
young man, Erithe had never been around many Seers; most lived under
constant threat from Visions, debilitating Visions that sent them
spiraling into chaos and confusion. The stronger the Seer, the
stronger the threshold, and many of those without Timerell's strength
lived cloistered lives at the Sanctuary.
So to find his friend joking so lightly about a woman whom he had
barely mentioned since the accident was very disconcerting for Erithe.
"Timerell," he hazarded, resist the urge to wave his hand in front of
the Seer's face, "this is weird, okay?" He suppressed his concern to
project a calm he did not feel.
Hazed blue eyes focused, slowly, and Timerell's smile, although
cautious and slightly abashed, returned. "Right," he agreed a bit
absently.
"What was the Vision about?" Erithe pressed, almost positive it had
to do with him. Why else would Timerell so abruptly change his mind
about Lienka's orders? 'Dammit, 'Merell, I need this assignment!' he
thought bitterly, but then quickly smothered such feelings after a
rising stab of guilt. Reason was rapidly returning to Timerell's
sapphire depths, but the young man seemed shaken to the core by
whatever had been in the Vision. A Seer's life was very bleak,
constantly Seeing disaster and pain with very little opportunity to
intervene.
"You," Timerell admitted, but then instantly looked to regret it.
"No, forget I said that. Erithe, I can't tell you. You know that.
There's a reason we have to report all Visions to the Council! Can
you realize how dangerous what we do is? We have codes, we have order,
we have rules to keep from unraveling Time! If I tell you, if I tell
you.. Erithe, what if it's not something we can prevent? What if it
has to happen? What if--"
The last words were rising into hysteria, and Erithe gave his friend's
shoulders a hard shake. "Timerell! Calm down and try to remember I
don't know the rules, okay? And you're suppose to give me orders from
Lienka... if you don't, isn't that intervening?"
The Seer shook his head, "I don't know, Erithe. I think that's a risk
I'm willing to take, because the Vision is directly related to your
assignment. Maybe it's a warning to me, saying not to let you go."
"Is the Vision tied to me, or the assignment?" he asked quietly.
Timerell hesitated, eyes going unfocused again, Seeing something no
one else could. "The assignment," he said in a vague tone, still
focused inward, "your assignment."
Although he felt a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of Timerell's
confusion, Erithe pressed his luck. If he could only get the
assignment out of his friend, Timerell and Lienka's objections would
be moot points. I need this, he thought again. Please forgive me,
friend. "Then if you don't tell me, if you pick someone else, you're
cursing that person to whatever fate lies down that road. You know me,
'Merell, you know I'll give my life, without hesitation to see the
Betrayer down from power. I would do anything! I don't care what the
consequences are."
"Don't," Timerell said harshly, "please don't say that. Lienka's made
a mistake, if I just tell her, she'll have to reconsider."
"'Merell, is this assignment important?" the bard asked, manipulating
a little of his talent to demand the truth. Music, after all, was
linked to the soul.
"Yes," the Seer admitted reluctantly.
"If it's linked to the assignment," his voice remained quiet and
Erithe carefully focused on folding his fingers together has he spoke,
weaving subtle suggestions within the words, "and the assignment is
very important, someone has to take it. Am I the best person for the
job, Timerell, or is there anyone better suited Lienka can pick?"
The Seer sighed with the air of defeat, "You're the only one who knows
the Old Capital well enough."
"You know better then me Visions aren't always doomed to come true,"
he added, the final twist in the lock. He gave a gentle push of
persuasion and the tension vanished from his friend's shoulders.
"Just don't do anything stupid," the Seer warned, eyeing Erithe
dubiously. "And... Gods, Erithe, be careful," he pleaded, and real
concern shining through.
The bard felt a tremor of apprehension, but it was soon followed by
fierce determination. "Don't you dare tell me what the Vision is
about until the Council says otherwise. Maybe I'm not suppose to know
the details, but just having the warning is enough to prevent it.
After all, why else would it come to you now?"
"Because if that Vision had come to anyone else," Timerell said
carefully, "we would have a dead Seer on our hands."
Unable to stop himself, Erithe shivered. "Now I'm not sure I want to
know even if the Council says yes. Ignorance is bliss, my friend," the
bard said lightly, trying to hide the growing knot of apprehension.
"Knowledge is power," Timerell returned easily, a sure sigh he was
getting a firm grip back on reality. Hiding his relief, Erithe helped
the Seer stand without making it seem like his true purpose. The Seer
rolled one shoulder and winced at the soft cracking noise that
resounded through the joint. "I've got to head back to the Sanctuary
as soon as possible, preferably right now."
"Can you give me the assignment on the way?"
Timerell shook his head, "You'll have to wait until the Council gets
done with me - there won't be much left, but I'm pretty sure I'll
remember what the assignment was about. Try my rooms around eight...
if I'm not back yet, make yourself comfortable."
Erithe nodded and clasped his friend's shoulder gently, "Don't worry,
I'll tell Lienka I had to beat it out of you."
The Seer rolled blue eyes and flashed Erithe a grin, "Even with these
bruises, I doubt she'll believe a stick like you could beat anything
out of a mouse, much less me."
He gave the other man a push towards the stable doors, "Get on with
you, then! Maybe I'll tell her I seduced it out you with my charms."
"Oh, that she'll believe, but I doubt Rhaindel will be very happy."
The bard's cheeks flushed scarlet, much to Timerell's amusement.
Chuckling softly, he lifted the deep cowl over his head and hurried
outside, white robes fluttering along the ground. Watching his friend
leave, Erithe felt a small stab of guilt but quickly pushed it aside.
An assignment, he thought, eyes flashing with excitement as he turned
and scaled up the ladder to the loft.
-
-
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Author's Notes: Whew! Took me long enough, didn't it? Confused? Don't
worry, this is still the same story! It'll all become clear in future
chapters. I told you I was writing a novel here!
I got a new computer (finally!) and was distracted by all the pretty
hard drive space. Fortunately, all my stories made the trip over even
if some of my programs did not!
Shout outs to D and Tia and everyone who reviewed -- thanks! I know
you might want me to write other things, but this is something I've
put a lot of thought and energy into. As the story progresses, I'll
start a little reference site to help. I know it's hard to read a
story one chapter at a time! I've already sketched some maps and
things, and I have a new scanner, too!
Well, I'm out of things to say and eager to update. Take care!
Feedback/reviews are very much appreciated!
copyright 2003 - Original story
Email me to join my Update ML!
LSE - Violet Nyte (VioletNyteML@yahoo.com)
shameless plug - visit my website
http://violetnyte.fallenweb.net