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Chapter 3, woot. This one is prettymuch the shortest in the entire book. Only 7 pages. o____o;; </3
Chapter 3
Arto held her in his arms as long as he felt he could—until he was sure she had stopped shaking—before deciding it was time to bring her to the cleric. He pulled her from his chest and waited for her eyes to come to his, smiling gently at her. She seemed to understand that this was not the place for such things, and accepted his hand when he offered it. The clerical tent was near the center of activity; it needed to be nearest to largest numbers of people that were at today’s activity and those that would be staying longer, including the sleeping grounds.
He held her hand just tight enough, rubbing its back with his thumb in small circles to soothe her; she did not look at him the entire way, it seemed she was concentrating on steadying herself the entire walk over. Many eyes followed the pair as they traveled, though Arto held his glance above them, examining the tents to be sure of what he was looking for. When he found it he turned quickly off the path and pressed toward the tent, pushing the curtains that covered its entrance back with his free hand and stepping inside.
He had so many questions to ask her—even the look in her eyes when she raised her glance to him was different, it was not the same time-woven measured glance of a friend who has always been there. That glance was different, or something within it was…not to even bring about the account of the words she had spoken to him. But right now her health was the priority, and the healer would see to it.
The inside of the tent was deceptively large, filled with rows of empty cots that seemed to wait for the first opportunity to cradle the body of a bloodied warrior. The few cots that were filled were separated from the others, and the bodies they held were in the recovery stage, eyes closed and breathing slow and even. Only a small amount of room had been left for a hidden waiting area, filled with comfortable chairs pressed too close together.
A nurse immediately rushed over and took Tira’s hand, leading her away from Arto and into a different room; one he assumed would be used for magical procedures. He saw the look of confusion on her face, but she seemed too weary to fight it anymore—she didn’t even turn to glance back at him again. He felt a pang in his heart as he heard the first scream of pain, but the voice from behind him urged him that he was needed again, that he had to go.
So he stepped from the tent, wandering back the way he had come before, and entering inside. He went to a different room of the massive leveled magically enhanced tent; before him sprawled the opener’s field, the battles would be held here. Those who survived, he was told, returned to these tents to prepare to face their second test. He was told, as well, that he would see his friend here in under an hour.
The wail of sheer agony erupted from her lungs, mouth sweeping wide against the rejections of the cleric beside her and her own body. Heat surged through her mass, though it hadn’t begun like this. She’d never been able to tolerate heat well, her body swelled in it and her skin rejected the sweat that dripped down from it at the first sign of the sun’s rays—Detroit had allowed her body to become used to this. But yet, this was worse than any kind of heat or burn she had ever experienced; it had begun sizzling within the core of the wound and slowly trickled away, across her lips and down her neck, reaching the tips of her fingers and toes—it swarmed in waves that crashed, and pealed away in flakes of charring flesh.
She had tried to stop herself from screaming again when her lungs had exhausted their supply of air, but it hadn’t been enough to close her eyes and breathe slowly. The charring burn trickled down across her neck, and had begun to swoop across her chest, taking the little air left she had within her lungs; the pain had begun to throb within the ear it was centered nearest to, a dull but steady thump…thump…thump. Another surge of pain ripped through, and the dull throbbing could be felt through her entire body—she didn’t scream this time, because she didn’t have the energy to scream. Couldn’t they let this thing heal naturally? This was staggering; the man’s armored hand had not been so grippingly painful against her skin, not by far. She had never felt so much pain in her entire life.
Again Tira felt the throbbing cease and the pain pitch across her body; her eyes shot wide and she screamed again. Moments later at last the pain ceased—collapsing as a body off the edge of a waterfall, leaving her only throbbing as if the beat of her heart pulsated through her. She tried to hold her eyes open, finding them irritatingly heavy, threatening to collapse. Tira felt a cool washcloth as it was streaked across her forehead, the water trailing down her face.
“I’m sorry that had to be such a struggle…” the gentle voice whispered to her as it moved away, leaking only the slightest hint of remorse.
Tira lay still for a long moment, listening as the shuffle of feet faded into the distance. When she opened her eyes again the room was cool, with little light tip-toeing inside the tent in bands of yellowish serpent-like absence. She pulled her legs closer to her, waiting a time before she pulled herself to a sitting position, eyes trailing away from the corner she had been placed in.
“Mmm…” Clothes had been placed on the floor at the foot of the cot; Tira stooped toward the pile, pulling the clothes up to her lap, holding them within her fingers for a time. She raised the shoulders of the material, letting it fall out before her, frowned; these were merely robes. With a sigh she heaved herself from the cot and slid into the dual-layered uncomfortable piece, adjusting her clothes underneath, adjusting the piece that ran up from her elbows across her bust and her back…pulling it away from her throat just enough. Her fingers traced along the eye that had been embroidered across her chest, spread wide in a tremulous glare. She paused as her eyes found a mask that mirrored the crimson of the robes, its feathers fanning out around where her eyes would peer, two wings spread in readying for flight. She placed the mask against her cheeks, opening her eyes as she placed the attached strap against the back of her head.
“The time has come,” the voice behind her sounded again, and Tira lifted her head.
“In times of darkness there has always been a light to guide our people from the pit of despair,
A ray of warmth to protect that we shall always be held safe in the arms of only one,
That when our tears fall sallow in nourishment of the dust we will not be left unheard in our sacrifice,
That is their promise.
Guiding Lights, Land, Light, and Sea, the Holy Trinity, we call upon you in this tenth decade of purity to bring the man most worthy of allegiance to the end of these ruthless trials,
The maiden of sacrifice’s tradition was brought here from far across the sea, from a land where forfeiture breeds in the air,
She has been promised by the architect, her body and soul to be given to the one man to qualify these acrimonious trials,
Her body the blade, her title the sheath, her soul the will to bring forth as the Goddess has given her, birthed her, nursed her, to save these lands and her people, for the preservation of what will rest here for all eternity.
It was the age of light; it was the age of darkness,
There was hope, there was despair,
We had tolerance, we had defiance,
But then there was her.
She was beautiful, and she was terrible,
She was placid, and she was seething,
Her wrath could silence the most brazen of men,
But they all loved her.
For the Guiding Lights had sent her,
And she was theirs.”
The voice fell at the last word, diving into the stadium as silence swept across the massive throng. Even her footsteps were unheard as she paced slowly, assuredly to the unmarked center of the dusty field. In her gloved fingers she held a longbow lifted above her just enough that it would not drag the ground, and the bare hand a single arrow. Those that could see her face knew she had her eyes closed, yet she could feel each step she took as if this creature was not a mortal after all but something that glided across the dust toward the destined center of the stadium.
Once she had found the center the maiden stopped, all at once, feet coming together and head tilting slowly toward the sky, feathered mask poised toward the air and the freedom that loomed above. She collapsed to her knees in a single motion, hand sliding along the bow as it rested beside her, coming to one knee. She rested the bow against her, bringing the arrow to the extended string, eyes still closed as she leaned back to the sky, drawing the arrow back against it.
The voice sounded again, anew against the silence.
“Guiding Lights!
We call out to you once more!
We challenge you to come forth!
Take the maiden you have chosen and bring her to the man you choose!
Bring forth our saviors, our scions from another world,
For only they can save us all!”
With that the maiden released her arrow. Every eye followed it as it flew hundreds of feet in the air, and a lone hawk shot from a high peak in the stands to capture the arrow and fly forward toward its destination, wings spread against the clean crisp air.
A small item had been released from the clutches of its foot as the arrow touched the stern grip of its beak, which collapsed toward the ground, farther and farther. Closer and closer it came to the maiden until it exploded all at once. A thin smoke rained over the maiden, thin enough not to spread but thick enough to leave her from visibility.
When it cleared, she was gone…and the whole stadium erupted in shrill cries of astonishment.
 animepurinsesu · Sun Apr 22, 2007 @ 01:06am · 1 Comments |
