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Flying South Chapter 14
Here is Chapter 14 of Flying South. All chapters are now stored in Memories for easier access; thanks for help, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaosmanor and muffinmonster and anyone I've forgotten!
FLYING SOUTH
Chapter 14
The brightest are those who have fallen farthest;
Who wear the night like a benediction
Twisted and bitter as absinthe kisses.
From “Dark Angel Watch” by Ann Schwader
I reached out for Asherley, for my memory and sense of him, and found a line, a tugging on my thoughts, as I flew. I had only to follow the line, if my spell had worked, and it would lead me to him, just as in practice it had led me to Mariel out in the orchard or Catri’s hiding place among the rows of beans. My flight veered more to the north-east, away from anywhere I had yet been in the flesh, as though I was being tugged on the string. I kept looking at the distant ground below me and when I saw the dark line of forest end, with no more trees between me and the horizon, I descended to an upper branch of a tall oak to get my breath and plan my next step.
I wasn't really tired, despite having flown at least sixteen miles in raven shape without a halt. When I searched inside my mind I could feel Nicholas' strength boosting my own, a brightness and a power in my blood. Mustn't think about Nicholas now. I looked instead at the broad trunk of the tree on whose branch I sat, willing Asherley's image to appear and show me where he was and what he was doing. This sort of scry had always been the easiest of all for me. I'd watched my family this way and set fire to their house, all the way from Skarrel.
I called it up, banishing everything else from my mind, and at once a popping sensation broke in my head. Very suddenly I had the worst headache I had ever known. I swayed a little, but my raven's claws held tight to the branch. I'd never tried a scry when I was already in some other shape, using energy to keep that shape. Water was used to skry because it was easier to call an image into a mirror, rather than try to assemble that image behind your own eyes. Desperately I called on the strength from Nicholas and felt it flood into my mind and body.
The headache faded and I could see before me a moving, living image of that dark, elegant lord I'd seen in dream and shadow. In front of him he held Erlina. Asherley wore the same rich, yet sombre garb of black and silver gray I had “seen” him in before. All this made him look like he was preparing to attend the royal court, not undertake a wizardly duel. Had I not known who he was, I would have thought him handsome, even liked him, but I did know. I could also see Erlina's frightened, tense face, her hair lank and uncombed. She was trying very hard not to cry and it was all I could do not to launch myself into the air immediately and go rip out Asherley's eyes with my talons.
First I needed some idea of where he was and what he was doing. The scrying window seemed to show a hill; the bare white ground beneath their feet indicated one of the chalk hills which arose out of the farming country to Netone’s east. It looked like the vision I had called up last night. I had heard about this region in my lessons and wonder of wonders, had remembered some. As I studied the scry, I was startled to see another person come into view beside Asherly. A tall man in a velvet cloak, slightly plump in the face, with curled dark hair. Another wizard? No way could I take on two; I wasn't at all sure that I could take on one. At a distance I couldn't tell for sure what the man was, whether or not he had power.
Asherley held Erlina in front of him in a one-armed grip the girl could not even shift, let alone break. At first I had some idea he meant to use Erlina as a shield, but no, she barely came up to the middle of the Wizard Lord's chest. Where was Asherley's other hand? Then I saw it up against Erlina's throat, holding a tiny glitter of steel. It could not be meant for threat, not yet, Asherley had no idea that I could see him.
The dagger came down in a feathery stroke, carving a thin red line across the young girl's throat. Her mouth opened in a cry of pain and fear. The slash was not deep enough to open a great vein; the blood fell slowly, but it did fall. Asherley gasped, never loosing his grip on the girl, and a feverish brilliance gleamed in his eyes. He seemed invigorated, restored. Then he glanced sideways, mouthed something to his accomplice, and laughed.
This was no magic I had ever seen, but that it was magic I had no doubt. He was somehow doing a perverted variation of the link between Nicholas and me, skimming life-energy from Erlina as the young heir's blood mingled with the earth at their feet. Then Erlina's eyes rolled back in that horrible involuntary movement no one pretending to faint can mimic. Asherley let her fall and I winced as Erlina hit the ground.
Then the dark shape of the Wizard Lord blurred outwards and up in a rush of movement too swift for my eyes to follow. One moment he was, the next he was not, and I had no idea what shape he'd taken. I took wing, preferring to meet him in the air rather than sitting and waiting. My scrying hung in the air for a brief moment more before vanishing. Damn, I should have taken another look to get a better idea where Erlina was; maybe the accomplice wasn't a wizard at all and I could knock him out and take the girl to safety. I winged north-east towards the chalk hills.
Perhaps half an hour later, a deep hoarse cry that sounded like no bird ever hatched came from above me. I cawed back, something really rude in raven - most of what ravens say is really rude - then I wheeled about, still thinking about whether I could lose the thing in the trees if I flew in among them, maybe cause it to bash itself on a branch or entangle in undergrowth. The trouble is, we were fast running out of trees. I could see open ground ahead of me and wheeled around desperate to find shelter. As I did so, I was able to see what was descending to attack. It was Yukungadak’s lizard thing, which I'd never expected to see again this side of the world, not while I was awake.
Great leathered wings held the creature aloft, a huge beak hung open showing rows of needled fangs. It cried out again. I didn't think any further, I dove for those trees. Maybe Asherley had dragged the image out of my sleeping mind somewhere but that didn't make any difference. If it got me, it would tear me to shreds no matter what form I wore. Once into the forest, the sun dimmed by green canopies, I dropped to the ground and chose another shape, one lithe and swift which could get through any undergrowth, find any path. Changing had never been so effortless when I had only one body's life power to draw on. Now, the red fox bounded tirelessly into the green.
Far above, I heard the hoarse scream of the great lizard-bird. Behind me, something was following, making a lot more noise than I was but staying unerringly on my path. The fox's nose told me what it was, a hound, but what hound would be following here, away from packmates and hunt master? We ran until even the fox's body was beginning to tire. I glanced behind me and saw the hound break free of entangling ferns. It was a massive white beast with jaws opened as though to close on me already. Its eyes were mad and red and fever-bright. By them I knew Asherley and could claim the first point: I'd managed to lure him in.
The sending screamed above, sounding closer. I looked up and saw it gliding as close as it could, but focused on the red-eyed hound, not me. If it wasn't his ally, did that mean it was somehow mine . . . was really Yukungadak, so far from his home? No matter whose it was, the great leather-winged bird was unable to get past the trees and could not intervene until we broke out into clear ground once more.
Sudden exhaustion flooded through me. My breath was short, a stitch in my side, fierce aches in my legs. Panicking, I reached for Nicholas – and fell over in my feeble human body, as though all my blood flowed out of me at once leaving me like an empty bag. Nicholas wasn’t there. The energy debt was being paid by my body alone and I’d overstretched myself dangerously. The hound caught up with me and snapped, strong jaws closing on my right leg like a knife stab. The pain cut sharply though the dizzy sickness in my head and gut. It was so bad I wanted to pass out, but couldn’t. I hadn’t been scared before, not really. I’d felt that I had friends with me, that I was going to run out of this forest and find them. Not any more.
The white hound worried at my leg and then released me, but did not go away. It stood above my head, red eyes bright. Then it began to bark.
I couldn’t feel anything in my leg for a few moments and then pain began to seep through the dizziness. I made myself look at it but couldn’t clearly see, the moonlight was obscured by branches. There was a lot of dark stickiness on my leg. My life was seeping slowly out and there seemed to be nothing I could do. I needed energy to shapechange and I had none of my own. I had lost the hunt; I had no more shapes to take and the white hound was summoning its master. I had nothing left for Asherley to fear. My own voice buzzed in my head, reminding me of the Lady’s words.
In the ancient pact . . . find an ending . . . peace for Albion. One of you will leave blood . . . one of you . . . one of you . . .
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
No more choices.
She'd never said that the one spilling the blood had to be the loser or that the winner would live. My mind whirled like a flock of birds startled and fleeing for the sea cliffs. I could not calm it enough to envision my true shape, that feeble two-legged wingless shape which seemed very far away from me. The image was blurred, I couldn't see it clearly. Couldn't reach it . . . couldn't . . . There was only one thing left that I could think of, and it was the prayer a child is said to cry upon entering this world.
"Goddess made me, Goddess guard me!"
I threw myself into the void, willing to be reshaped into what She bid me. I had gone beyond my own life energy; I could survive this only by the Lady’s grace. The forest around me seemed to vanish in darkness. I smelled acrid blood and heard a dog's crazed snarl vanish into a whimper, replaced by the harsh panting of a man who has run beyond his powers. Then I opened my eyes and found myself in human shape, yet taller than I expected and with both legs uninjured. Not my own form then. The night about me was very clear and bright, every leaf outlined brilliantly, moonlight falling silver to the ground.
I began to walk, glimpsing the fleeing pale shape of the hound. He would be returning to his master. I went that way.
I couldn’t tell for how long I walked or where I went, because I made no effort to remember any path. The trees seemed thicker about me than I recalled, older and thicker giants of the forest. The hound was gone but something was in front of me, trying to get away, stumbling and exhausted. I pursued it, wondering why I felt so strong and clear. This wasn’t me, I knew, probably I wouldn’t be able to go back to my body. Amber pushes the limits once too often.
I caught sight of the creature that was trying to run away from me and realised it was indeed a man. Ragged and exhausted and afraid. It was Asherley. Naked, scratched and bloody, his limp showed that he’d probably trodden on no few stones, sticks and thorns on his way.
"No," he was whispering between gasps, "no. It was between me and the witch girl, it was fair in the ways of power. Intervention is wrong. I would have killed cleanly – the princess was on the verge of her power, a child on the edge of womanhood. She would have been stronger than any of the other sacrifices – if she lives, she’ll destroy the royal house . . .”
“Great sacrifices, Wizard Lord,” I said.
He looked up from a crouching stance and whimpered in pure mindless fear. Whoever’s face I wore, it was not my own and he had no idea who I really was. “Lady,” he cried out, “Lady, it was all for you, to bring your Power into strength, for those with magic to rule . . .”
Oh no. I couldn’t be, could I? One way to know.
“You have been slaying my little ones,” I declaimed and didn’t have to pretend sternness. “You are a man and you have tried to use the power of women – you have accessed that power by murder. If you do so again, the creatures of the Hunt-Master will pursue you in your nightmares, every night, running you to the edge of time until your heart bursts within you! Now, get up and run!”
He obeyed, his breath coming in gasps of panic and pain as he forced his exhausted body into movement. I walked slowly after him and his desperation to stay ahead of me kept him going. I pushed him back the way we had come, having no idea of how far the forest extended and no real wish to walk to the sea. We emerged at last into the cleared land, where the unhindered moonlight streamed down upon the grass. Something let go of me, a brush of wings touched my face and a tremendous weakness threw me down upon the ground. Throbbing pain shot through my right leg. I rolled feebly upon my back and stared upwards at Asherley, who remained upon his feet. Mingled shock and horror crossed his face.
"You are the girl Amber, aren't you? Not Her . . . only Her seeming. But how did you do it?"
I tried to speak but only a husking whisper left my throat. Many things were belatedly clear to me. Such as that I had flown from the castle in early morning and when I had bolted into the forest, it had been only mid-morning. Now it was night. Wherever we had gone, Asherley and I, we had not been in our own world or our own time. Someone else had been playing with me, using me to pursue Asherley. I’d been a useful vessel with abilities to be tapped and drained.
And discarded.
Asherley gave a grimacing smile and raised trembling hands. A tiny explosion of fire crackled between them. “I can finish it after all,” he whispered. “I will take you, all that you are, and I will restore myself with your life force.”
And he threw fire upon me.
I closed my eyes and waited to scream.
The fire didn’t reach me. It bounced off me at arm’s reach and fizzled into nothing, which was from no spell I was doing. A gust of cold air enveloped me and blew towards Asherley, who was still staring in confusion at what had happened to his spell. Horses thudded to a halt behind me so close I felt their hot breath on my neck and something huge glided over all of us and blotted out the moon, too vast by far to be the leathery fanged bird. Right in front of my face was a huge scaly foreleg and a clawed foot which the owner had most carefully set down so as not to stand on my head. I appreciated that. I twisted my head around and stared into a familiar set of glowing eyes.
“It’s you. What are you doing here?”
The clawed foot lifted, again with care, and one claw brushed through my hair. At once I felt revitalised, maybe not enough to run all the way back to Netone but certainly enough to live. My mind felt fresh and clear as though I had woken from eight hours sleep. My leg ached but when I looked at it, the torn flesh was knitted as though the wound was already several days healed. Flesh. Ah. I realised then that I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I’d clearly forgotten that little extra spell which would have brought my garments with me.
“Here,” said a voice behind me and material brushed my shoulder. I grabbed at it, swathing myself in the dark velvet cloak and wishing I didn’t have to turn and look. But then, there was a dragon here, wasn’t there? Whoever it was would be extremely polite.
chaosmanor and muffinmonster and anyone I've forgotten!FLYING SOUTH
Chapter 14
The brightest are those who have fallen farthest;
Who wear the night like a benediction
Twisted and bitter as absinthe kisses.
From “Dark Angel Watch” by Ann Schwader
I reached out for Asherley, for my memory and sense of him, and found a line, a tugging on my thoughts, as I flew. I had only to follow the line, if my spell had worked, and it would lead me to him, just as in practice it had led me to Mariel out in the orchard or Catri’s hiding place among the rows of beans. My flight veered more to the north-east, away from anywhere I had yet been in the flesh, as though I was being tugged on the string. I kept looking at the distant ground below me and when I saw the dark line of forest end, with no more trees between me and the horizon, I descended to an upper branch of a tall oak to get my breath and plan my next step.
I wasn't really tired, despite having flown at least sixteen miles in raven shape without a halt. When I searched inside my mind I could feel Nicholas' strength boosting my own, a brightness and a power in my blood. Mustn't think about Nicholas now. I looked instead at the broad trunk of the tree on whose branch I sat, willing Asherley's image to appear and show me where he was and what he was doing. This sort of scry had always been the easiest of all for me. I'd watched my family this way and set fire to their house, all the way from Skarrel.
I called it up, banishing everything else from my mind, and at once a popping sensation broke in my head. Very suddenly I had the worst headache I had ever known. I swayed a little, but my raven's claws held tight to the branch. I'd never tried a scry when I was already in some other shape, using energy to keep that shape. Water was used to skry because it was easier to call an image into a mirror, rather than try to assemble that image behind your own eyes. Desperately I called on the strength from Nicholas and felt it flood into my mind and body.
The headache faded and I could see before me a moving, living image of that dark, elegant lord I'd seen in dream and shadow. In front of him he held Erlina. Asherley wore the same rich, yet sombre garb of black and silver gray I had “seen” him in before. All this made him look like he was preparing to attend the royal court, not undertake a wizardly duel. Had I not known who he was, I would have thought him handsome, even liked him, but I did know. I could also see Erlina's frightened, tense face, her hair lank and uncombed. She was trying very hard not to cry and it was all I could do not to launch myself into the air immediately and go rip out Asherley's eyes with my talons.
First I needed some idea of where he was and what he was doing. The scrying window seemed to show a hill; the bare white ground beneath their feet indicated one of the chalk hills which arose out of the farming country to Netone’s east. It looked like the vision I had called up last night. I had heard about this region in my lessons and wonder of wonders, had remembered some. As I studied the scry, I was startled to see another person come into view beside Asherly. A tall man in a velvet cloak, slightly plump in the face, with curled dark hair. Another wizard? No way could I take on two; I wasn't at all sure that I could take on one. At a distance I couldn't tell for sure what the man was, whether or not he had power.
Asherley held Erlina in front of him in a one-armed grip the girl could not even shift, let alone break. At first I had some idea he meant to use Erlina as a shield, but no, she barely came up to the middle of the Wizard Lord's chest. Where was Asherley's other hand? Then I saw it up against Erlina's throat, holding a tiny glitter of steel. It could not be meant for threat, not yet, Asherley had no idea that I could see him.
The dagger came down in a feathery stroke, carving a thin red line across the young girl's throat. Her mouth opened in a cry of pain and fear. The slash was not deep enough to open a great vein; the blood fell slowly, but it did fall. Asherley gasped, never loosing his grip on the girl, and a feverish brilliance gleamed in his eyes. He seemed invigorated, restored. Then he glanced sideways, mouthed something to his accomplice, and laughed.
This was no magic I had ever seen, but that it was magic I had no doubt. He was somehow doing a perverted variation of the link between Nicholas and me, skimming life-energy from Erlina as the young heir's blood mingled with the earth at their feet. Then Erlina's eyes rolled back in that horrible involuntary movement no one pretending to faint can mimic. Asherley let her fall and I winced as Erlina hit the ground.
Then the dark shape of the Wizard Lord blurred outwards and up in a rush of movement too swift for my eyes to follow. One moment he was, the next he was not, and I had no idea what shape he'd taken. I took wing, preferring to meet him in the air rather than sitting and waiting. My scrying hung in the air for a brief moment more before vanishing. Damn, I should have taken another look to get a better idea where Erlina was; maybe the accomplice wasn't a wizard at all and I could knock him out and take the girl to safety. I winged north-east towards the chalk hills.
Perhaps half an hour later, a deep hoarse cry that sounded like no bird ever hatched came from above me. I cawed back, something really rude in raven - most of what ravens say is really rude - then I wheeled about, still thinking about whether I could lose the thing in the trees if I flew in among them, maybe cause it to bash itself on a branch or entangle in undergrowth. The trouble is, we were fast running out of trees. I could see open ground ahead of me and wheeled around desperate to find shelter. As I did so, I was able to see what was descending to attack. It was Yukungadak’s lizard thing, which I'd never expected to see again this side of the world, not while I was awake.
Great leathered wings held the creature aloft, a huge beak hung open showing rows of needled fangs. It cried out again. I didn't think any further, I dove for those trees. Maybe Asherley had dragged the image out of my sleeping mind somewhere but that didn't make any difference. If it got me, it would tear me to shreds no matter what form I wore. Once into the forest, the sun dimmed by green canopies, I dropped to the ground and chose another shape, one lithe and swift which could get through any undergrowth, find any path. Changing had never been so effortless when I had only one body's life power to draw on. Now, the red fox bounded tirelessly into the green.
Far above, I heard the hoarse scream of the great lizard-bird. Behind me, something was following, making a lot more noise than I was but staying unerringly on my path. The fox's nose told me what it was, a hound, but what hound would be following here, away from packmates and hunt master? We ran until even the fox's body was beginning to tire. I glanced behind me and saw the hound break free of entangling ferns. It was a massive white beast with jaws opened as though to close on me already. Its eyes were mad and red and fever-bright. By them I knew Asherley and could claim the first point: I'd managed to lure him in.
The sending screamed above, sounding closer. I looked up and saw it gliding as close as it could, but focused on the red-eyed hound, not me. If it wasn't his ally, did that mean it was somehow mine . . . was really Yukungadak, so far from his home? No matter whose it was, the great leather-winged bird was unable to get past the trees and could not intervene until we broke out into clear ground once more.
Sudden exhaustion flooded through me. My breath was short, a stitch in my side, fierce aches in my legs. Panicking, I reached for Nicholas – and fell over in my feeble human body, as though all my blood flowed out of me at once leaving me like an empty bag. Nicholas wasn’t there. The energy debt was being paid by my body alone and I’d overstretched myself dangerously. The hound caught up with me and snapped, strong jaws closing on my right leg like a knife stab. The pain cut sharply though the dizzy sickness in my head and gut. It was so bad I wanted to pass out, but couldn’t. I hadn’t been scared before, not really. I’d felt that I had friends with me, that I was going to run out of this forest and find them. Not any more.
The white hound worried at my leg and then released me, but did not go away. It stood above my head, red eyes bright. Then it began to bark.
I couldn’t feel anything in my leg for a few moments and then pain began to seep through the dizziness. I made myself look at it but couldn’t clearly see, the moonlight was obscured by branches. There was a lot of dark stickiness on my leg. My life was seeping slowly out and there seemed to be nothing I could do. I needed energy to shapechange and I had none of my own. I had lost the hunt; I had no more shapes to take and the white hound was summoning its master. I had nothing left for Asherley to fear. My own voice buzzed in my head, reminding me of the Lady’s words.
In the ancient pact . . . find an ending . . . peace for Albion. One of you will leave blood . . . one of you . . . one of you . . .
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.
No more choices.
She'd never said that the one spilling the blood had to be the loser or that the winner would live. My mind whirled like a flock of birds startled and fleeing for the sea cliffs. I could not calm it enough to envision my true shape, that feeble two-legged wingless shape which seemed very far away from me. The image was blurred, I couldn't see it clearly. Couldn't reach it . . . couldn't . . . There was only one thing left that I could think of, and it was the prayer a child is said to cry upon entering this world.
"Goddess made me, Goddess guard me!"
I threw myself into the void, willing to be reshaped into what She bid me. I had gone beyond my own life energy; I could survive this only by the Lady’s grace. The forest around me seemed to vanish in darkness. I smelled acrid blood and heard a dog's crazed snarl vanish into a whimper, replaced by the harsh panting of a man who has run beyond his powers. Then I opened my eyes and found myself in human shape, yet taller than I expected and with both legs uninjured. Not my own form then. The night about me was very clear and bright, every leaf outlined brilliantly, moonlight falling silver to the ground.
I began to walk, glimpsing the fleeing pale shape of the hound. He would be returning to his master. I went that way.
I couldn’t tell for how long I walked or where I went, because I made no effort to remember any path. The trees seemed thicker about me than I recalled, older and thicker giants of the forest. The hound was gone but something was in front of me, trying to get away, stumbling and exhausted. I pursued it, wondering why I felt so strong and clear. This wasn’t me, I knew, probably I wouldn’t be able to go back to my body. Amber pushes the limits once too often.
I caught sight of the creature that was trying to run away from me and realised it was indeed a man. Ragged and exhausted and afraid. It was Asherley. Naked, scratched and bloody, his limp showed that he’d probably trodden on no few stones, sticks and thorns on his way.
"No," he was whispering between gasps, "no. It was between me and the witch girl, it was fair in the ways of power. Intervention is wrong. I would have killed cleanly – the princess was on the verge of her power, a child on the edge of womanhood. She would have been stronger than any of the other sacrifices – if she lives, she’ll destroy the royal house . . .”
“Great sacrifices, Wizard Lord,” I said.
He looked up from a crouching stance and whimpered in pure mindless fear. Whoever’s face I wore, it was not my own and he had no idea who I really was. “Lady,” he cried out, “Lady, it was all for you, to bring your Power into strength, for those with magic to rule . . .”
Oh no. I couldn’t be, could I? One way to know.
“You have been slaying my little ones,” I declaimed and didn’t have to pretend sternness. “You are a man and you have tried to use the power of women – you have accessed that power by murder. If you do so again, the creatures of the Hunt-Master will pursue you in your nightmares, every night, running you to the edge of time until your heart bursts within you! Now, get up and run!”
He obeyed, his breath coming in gasps of panic and pain as he forced his exhausted body into movement. I walked slowly after him and his desperation to stay ahead of me kept him going. I pushed him back the way we had come, having no idea of how far the forest extended and no real wish to walk to the sea. We emerged at last into the cleared land, where the unhindered moonlight streamed down upon the grass. Something let go of me, a brush of wings touched my face and a tremendous weakness threw me down upon the ground. Throbbing pain shot through my right leg. I rolled feebly upon my back and stared upwards at Asherley, who remained upon his feet. Mingled shock and horror crossed his face.
"You are the girl Amber, aren't you? Not Her . . . only Her seeming. But how did you do it?"
I tried to speak but only a husking whisper left my throat. Many things were belatedly clear to me. Such as that I had flown from the castle in early morning and when I had bolted into the forest, it had been only mid-morning. Now it was night. Wherever we had gone, Asherley and I, we had not been in our own world or our own time. Someone else had been playing with me, using me to pursue Asherley. I’d been a useful vessel with abilities to be tapped and drained.
And discarded.
Asherley gave a grimacing smile and raised trembling hands. A tiny explosion of fire crackled between them. “I can finish it after all,” he whispered. “I will take you, all that you are, and I will restore myself with your life force.”
And he threw fire upon me.
I closed my eyes and waited to scream.
The fire didn’t reach me. It bounced off me at arm’s reach and fizzled into nothing, which was from no spell I was doing. A gust of cold air enveloped me and blew towards Asherley, who was still staring in confusion at what had happened to his spell. Horses thudded to a halt behind me so close I felt their hot breath on my neck and something huge glided over all of us and blotted out the moon, too vast by far to be the leathery fanged bird. Right in front of my face was a huge scaly foreleg and a clawed foot which the owner had most carefully set down so as not to stand on my head. I appreciated that. I twisted my head around and stared into a familiar set of glowing eyes.
“It’s you. What are you doing here?”
The clawed foot lifted, again with care, and one claw brushed through my hair. At once I felt revitalised, maybe not enough to run all the way back to Netone but certainly enough to live. My mind felt fresh and clear as though I had woken from eight hours sleep. My leg ached but when I looked at it, the torn flesh was knitted as though the wound was already several days healed. Flesh. Ah. I realised then that I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I’d clearly forgotten that little extra spell which would have brought my garments with me.
“Here,” said a voice behind me and material brushed my shoulder. I grabbed at it, swathing myself in the dark velvet cloak and wishing I didn’t have to turn and look. But then, there was a dragon here, wasn’t there? Whoever it was would be extremely polite.
no subject
Or else you could make a links page. I can write the code out for you, next time we catch up.
no subject
You also could tag your posts. There's a field for tags at the bottom of the page where you write new entries called "Tags". Simply put something like "south" in there, and then you can get to all your posts tagged "south" by klicking this link:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/ratfan/tag/south
(Simply put the name of your tag at the end of this link, whatever the tag is called.)
You can edit older entries to add tags by using this page:
http://www.livejournal.com/editjournal.bml