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rainbowfic2012-09-13 10:37 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2012-09-13 10:37 pm
Gules Saturation
Name: shadowsong26
Story: Hero
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Gules
Supplies and Materials: saturation, miniature collection, canvas (2, 3, 23, 7, 12, 9, 18, 21, 11, 10, 16, 13, 8), frame (4), brush (undulate), acrylic, stain, fabric, novelty beads ("Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes." -- Oscar Wilde), beading wire, glue ("You aren't saying everything that you're thinking today, but you have your reasons. Someone may assume that you're telling all, but there is a danger in jumping to conclusions. Still, it's smarter now to hold the conflict within yourself than to lay it out into the open where others need to deal with your unresolved feelings. You can always share more once the intensity begins to subside.")
Word Count: 2500
Rating: R
Characters: Mel Artwick
Warnings: Violence, war, references to murder with mutilation, parental death, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes, enslavement, possible warning for emotional abuse, character death, kamikaze strike
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
2. Grunt: 960 FY
Den Artwick was the foremost shipwright in the Clan, of a line that boasted more Captains than not. He had an adult son he couldn't be more proud of, and now a new baby.
He smiled, at his second wife sleeping, the infant nestled beside her. A second son, this one a mage, like his mother. Kit was the future for his line, naturally--the one who would one day be Clan Head, maybe even Lord of the Islands, if Den had his way, but little Mel...
Every great man needed someone standing behind him.
Den was more than satisfied.
3. Commander: 963 FY
When he turned three, Nez began teaching her son how to play with and command the waves. Den sometimes watched them, but was often too busy for their son.
She married Den because he swept her off her feet, because retirement from a ship, for a sixteen-year-old mage, was impossible without a bad injury or a good marriage, and…well, she was ambitious. Den's children could rule the Clan.
But as time passed and it became clear that Den’s ambitions rested on her stepson and ignored her baby…
Mel was the only thing Nez didn't regret about the choice she’d made.
23. Weapons of mass destruction: 963 FY
The thunder woke Mel up. He could feel the water pounding underneath the house, see everything clear as day--there was lighting all the time. He couldn't remember a storm this bad ever.
He scrambled out of bed and ran to Mommy and Daddy's room, crawling under their bed to hide.
"Mel?"
He peeked out at Daddy, who was awake, leaning down to see him.
"...come up here."
He wriggled out and curled up in a tight little ball between Mommy—still sleeping, Mel couldn’t understand how--and Daddy, with his eyes closed. The thunder didn’t seem that scary anymore.
7. Attrition: 964 FY
Mel swung his legs back and forth--they didn't quite touch the ground. Mommy and Kit were arguing again. They'd done that lots since Kit came home.
Mommy had sat him down and knelt and looked in his eyes and explained that they weren’t ever going to see Daddy again. He didn't quite understand how that worked--how someone could go away forever--but it made Mommy and Kit sad.
And they yelled at each other much more than usual.
He sighed. Daddy always got 'em to stop. But Daddy wouldn't ever be here to do that again.
Mommy said.
12. Trenches: 971 FY
By the time he turned eleven, Mel was an expert at diverting his mother and brother away from each other so they would stop arguing. Kit didn't visit very often, and Mel didn't like to lose time having to avoid the shouting.
Sometimes, he would simply find ways to do things with Kit that Mamma had no interest in. But if he did just that, she'd feel like he didn't love her, too. So most of the time, he had to be with both of them at once, and learned how and when to divert conversation before it got messy.
9. Medal: 972 FY
"Brought you a present."
Mel jumped as an antique gold coin hanging from a heavy chain dropped onto his book. He hadn't even heard his brother's approach. "Kit!" He jumped up, grinning. "Thought you weren't gettin' in 'til tomorrow."
Kit grinned back. "We were runnin' early. What d'you think?"
Mel flushed and looked down at the coin. "Where's it from?"
"Dunno exactly, but it’s from back before the Blood War."
Mel's eyes widened. If the coin really was that old...
Kit was still grinning when he looked up. "It suits you."
He clutched it tight to his chest. "Thank you."
18. Daggers drawn: 975 FY
Mel took a deep breath. "I wanna join a ship this year," he announced, the morning after his fifteenth birthday.
His mother turned and stared at him. "No. Absolutely not."
"Mamma--"
"You're too young. I joined a ship that young and I hated it. Don't rush into things, Mel." She gripped the back of her chair tight.
"I'm fifteen," he pointed out, but he knew it was a lost cause. She’d never agree. "I really wanna go, Mamma."
She shook her head emphatically. "No. Wait a few more years. Please. For me."
He dropped his eyes. Maybe next year...
21. Ravage: 976 FY
It was another hurricane. There were always a few deaths in the really bad ones--usually not mages, but...
He made it through her funeral in a fog, barely hearing when relatives he barely knew extended their condolences. He didn't remember much of it.
But it was all over now. It took him a few minutes to open the door, and when he finally managed it, he thought it echoed. It was probably just his imagination.
He tiptoed through the house, which suddenly seemed ten times the size, feeling like a single grain of salt in a vast, empty ocean.
11. Rank: 976 FY
Mel closed his eyes and felt the breeze on his face. Despite everything, despite Mamma, despite going into a totally unknown life, Mel felt happier--freer--than he ever had before.
He was the most powerful of the three mages on his brother's ship. Even without experience, between that and being the Captain's little brother, he was deferred to. It was a weird feeling, but…nice. For the first time in his life, he had only Kit to tell him where to go, what to do. And Kit loved him.
He would never be caught between opposing authorities he loved again.
10. Wound: 977 FY
"How bad is it?" Kit asked, something unreadable in his eyes.
Mel blinked. "What are you talkin'--"
"I know you're still hurtin'," his brother cut in. "I need to know these things. I'm your Captain."
Mel flushed and looked down, running a hand across the scar. "Not that bad, most've the time."
Kit studied him, that unreadable tension spreading from his eyes to his jaw and shoulders. "Let me know if it gets worse," he said abruptly. "Need to know how much I can count on you to do."
"I will," Mel said, and dropped his hand. "I promise."
16. Ceasefire: 980 FY
The last three days Mel had just moved, until he couldn't anymore, getting water and food he recognized as he spotted it, trying to blot out the mental image of hands in a box.
But he couldn't anymore. He'd woken up barely able to stand, realized his shoes were near destroyed. He needed to stop for a few days before he could continue.
He flopped back and stared through the trees at the sky.
The branches above him shaped themselves into skeletal hands.
He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind so he could rest, recover and resupply.
13. Orders: 985 FY
He had no idea where he was being taken, what he'd be made to do.
He tried to think if he'd seen any collared water-mages before. He couldn't think of any off the top of his head, so that was no help. Most collared people were earth-mages. Presumably there were a lot of sound-mages, too--that Thread was common in this area--but he hadn't seen any.
The cart stopped. "Contraband," the handler barked after dragging him out, pointing at a pile of boxes. It took him a minute to understand, then he quietly flooded them, destroying whatever was inside.
8. Gun: 985 FY
He woke to a jolt like thunder, the impact on his senses one he hadn't felt since the last time he’d waited out a hurricane. It took him a second to figure out the source.
...flood!
He leapt to his feet and closed his eyes, trying to feel the water beneath him. --there!
He grabbed for it and felt another jolt, this one sharp and hot, rather the dull, percussive impacts of the flash-flood.
He choked and dropped the water, one hand going up to his neck.
When the flood subsided an hour later, it still hurt like hell.
14. Military intelligence: 986 FY
It took Mel awhile to realize he was in love with Isshiri.
He'd thought it was simple friendship. Then he’d thought it was closer, almost--
Not brotherly. Brotherly meant the Captain meant horror meant hands in a box.
But what brotherly should be.
But after days of watching Isshiri pick splinters out of his stump from the ill-fitted, unsanded wooden peg the guards had finally, grudgingly given him, calmly refusing help...
Mel quietly took the peg and did what he could to sand it, and knew that the brilliant, passionate, reckless, stubborn, too-young, incredibly strong fire-mage had captured his heart.
5. Battlefield: 986 FY
Mel felt like he was fighting Isshiri every step of the way, fighting to keep him on his feet, fighting to keep him awake, half-dragging him sometimes. But the checkpoint wasn't all that far, they'd make it. They had to.
He let his friend rest for a minute and looked around bleakly. Two days. A two-day walk, that's what the underground told me. Midmorning on the third day, and he still hadn't seen the--
There! The twisted oak, exactly like it had been described to him. "C'mon, kid," he whispered, dragging Isshiri up again. "Just a little farther. Hold on..."
17. Atrocity: 986 FY
He knew Captain Taz speculated. He couldn't blame her. If their positions were reversed, he'd watch when he thought she couldn't see and try to figure out what could possibly make her break faith.
That didn't make bearing up under her unsubtle (though he was sure she thought herself careful) staring any easier.
But he did, because the alternative was telling her, and he'd done pretty well at blocking those images out of his mind. He didn't care to relive them, wouldn’t say why, couldn’t bear to relive the guilt that he had accidentally turned his brother into a monster.
15. Shrapnel: 987 FY
"I'll do it," Riluke said.
Mel nodded, and, before Isshiri could volunteer, "Do me first."
"All right." She picked up the knife, and moved beside him. "Ready?"
He swallowed, and nodded again.
"On the count of three, then." She slid the knife under his collar. "One, two--" She cut.
He must have been screaming, but he couldn't be sure. All he felt were white-hot knives moving from his neck down his spine and out to the ends of his fingertips.
The next instant, he was lying on the floor, their blurry faces above him.
"Three," Riluke finished, very quiet.
22. Won the battle, lost the war: 987 FY
"Will you be all right?"
He looked up at Riluke. "I'll manage."
"What will you do?"
It was sort of surprising, how close they'd gotten while he and Isshiri were staying here. Maybe it had something to do with both of them being exiles, or maybe it was just sharing in looking after her cousin. Either way, he was almost as sorry to say goodbye to her as to him.
He shrugged. "Probably join the siege."
She nodded. "If you need anything, write me."
"I will."
They studied each other for a moment, then she inclined her head. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
25. War is hell: 987 FY
Mel hated being here--back near Feredar, where capture meant death if he was lucky--but he couldn't go home, couldn't stay with Lady Riluke, couldn't follow Isshiri. Here, he could at least do some good--mostly assisting with food supply and other infrastructure, since he wasn’t much good at combat.
One afternoon, not long after he’d joined the siege, a soldier was brought in with his right hand crushed so badly it had to be amputated. Mel fled his work area--too close to the medics--and spent the night hiding in the shadows, trying not to throw up.
20. Put to the sword: 988 FY
Mel folded his arms and glared at Commander Ledir. "No. No way I'm gonna do that."
Ledir rubbed at his temples. "It will shorten the siege."
"You keep sayin' that. But it's not just the King who'll get hit by this. He'll get hit least. I'm not gonna poison the people I'm here to help."
"I'm not asking you to poison anyone," he replied.
"You're askin' me to block the river, which is as good as poisonin' them," Mel snapped. "I won't do it. Find another way." Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned and stalked out of the tent.
24. Flashbacks: 989 FY
The commanders had tried to keep it quiet, but word had spread like wildfire through the camp--King Kellom's brother, Crown Prince Andrell, had defected.
Mel was mostly relieved--if Andrell was on the level, that meant valuable information. If not, he was a good hostage.
"Mel!"
He was jerked out of his musings by a familiar voice.
"...Isshiri?" How the hell did you convince your family to let you come?
The brilliant, passionate, reckless fire-mage didn't answer, just sped up and hugged Mel close. "It's good to see you again."
"Yeah," Mel whispered. You have no idea how much.
6. Tactics: 990 FY
Isshiri was so earnest "It'll work. I know it will."
"Too risky. Can't risk losing your king's support."
Mel stayed silent. There wasn't much he could add, other than making it clear he was backing Isshiri's play. Ledir had a point--but...
But it could end this, without risking innocents, or any mages still alive.
"Unless you want to send me," Andrell cut in softly, "it's your best shot."
Ledir turned and stared at him. "You think this is a good idea?"
Andrell shrugged. "I think it's a terrible idea. But I haven't heard a better one."
Ledir sighed. "Fine."
1. Warrior: 990 FY
Their trap was ready to be set, just waiting on daylight.
Mel sat next to Isshiri, offered him some bread.
Isshiri flashed him a quick grin. "Thanks," he said, then turned back to sharpening his knife.
...I could tell him, Mel thought. I could tell him about the Captain, about the box, about what I...I could tell him, and he wouldn't hate me.
Isshiri looked up. "Something wrong?"
Mel started to say it, then shook his head. "No. Nothin'." Isshiri didn't need to be distracted by Mel's problems right now. Some other day, Mel promised himself. Someday I’ll tell him.
19. Pyrrhic victory: 990 FY
Mel froze the guard who'd found him to the ground, and turned back in a panic. Isshiri!
His stomach sank. His friend was on the ground, King Kellom's sword at his throat. Mel didn't have time to think.
He tackled the King away from Isshiri and groped for the groundwater, deep below them. He felt the blade enter his side and couldn't pull the water up to the surface--but they were far enough from Isshiri, and he could--
He yanked and the ground collapsed. He heard a strangled, choking, liquid breath, felt it hot on his cheek--
Then nothing.
4. Hero: 1490 FY/445 I.C.
He is the subject of works of art and literature and scholarship the world over, a darling of historians--Artwick keeps excellent records, did even then, so a lot is known; a darling of novelists--that five-year gap between his brother and his arrest has never been filled, and his legendary friendship with Prince Isshiri gives romantics endless material.
Five hundred years later, Emperor Umeli of Farglass dedicates a new fountain in Feredar City--a replacement for the one that got him arrested all those years ago--a monument to the quiet, captivating water-mage who, long ago, saved the world.
Story: Hero
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: Gules
Supplies and Materials: saturation, miniature collection, canvas (2, 3, 23, 7, 12, 9, 18, 21, 11, 10, 16, 13, 8), frame (4), brush (undulate), acrylic, stain, fabric, novelty beads ("Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes." -- Oscar Wilde), beading wire, glue ("You aren't saying everything that you're thinking today, but you have your reasons. Someone may assume that you're telling all, but there is a danger in jumping to conclusions. Still, it's smarter now to hold the conflict within yourself than to lay it out into the open where others need to deal with your unresolved feelings. You can always share more once the intensity begins to subside.")
Word Count: 2500
Rating: R
Characters: Mel Artwick
Warnings: Violence, war, references to murder with mutilation, parental death, blaming oneself for someone else's crimes, enslavement, possible warning for emotional abuse, character death, kamikaze strike
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
2. Grunt: 960 FY
Den Artwick was the foremost shipwright in the Clan, of a line that boasted more Captains than not. He had an adult son he couldn't be more proud of, and now a new baby.
He smiled, at his second wife sleeping, the infant nestled beside her. A second son, this one a mage, like his mother. Kit was the future for his line, naturally--the one who would one day be Clan Head, maybe even Lord of the Islands, if Den had his way, but little Mel...
Every great man needed someone standing behind him.
Den was more than satisfied.
3. Commander: 963 FY
When he turned three, Nez began teaching her son how to play with and command the waves. Den sometimes watched them, but was often too busy for their son.
She married Den because he swept her off her feet, because retirement from a ship, for a sixteen-year-old mage, was impossible without a bad injury or a good marriage, and…well, she was ambitious. Den's children could rule the Clan.
But as time passed and it became clear that Den’s ambitions rested on her stepson and ignored her baby…
Mel was the only thing Nez didn't regret about the choice she’d made.
23. Weapons of mass destruction: 963 FY
The thunder woke Mel up. He could feel the water pounding underneath the house, see everything clear as day--there was lighting all the time. He couldn't remember a storm this bad ever.
He scrambled out of bed and ran to Mommy and Daddy's room, crawling under their bed to hide.
"Mel?"
He peeked out at Daddy, who was awake, leaning down to see him.
"...come up here."
He wriggled out and curled up in a tight little ball between Mommy—still sleeping, Mel couldn’t understand how--and Daddy, with his eyes closed. The thunder didn’t seem that scary anymore.
7. Attrition: 964 FY
Mel swung his legs back and forth--they didn't quite touch the ground. Mommy and Kit were arguing again. They'd done that lots since Kit came home.
Mommy had sat him down and knelt and looked in his eyes and explained that they weren’t ever going to see Daddy again. He didn't quite understand how that worked--how someone could go away forever--but it made Mommy and Kit sad.
And they yelled at each other much more than usual.
He sighed. Daddy always got 'em to stop. But Daddy wouldn't ever be here to do that again.
Mommy said.
12. Trenches: 971 FY
By the time he turned eleven, Mel was an expert at diverting his mother and brother away from each other so they would stop arguing. Kit didn't visit very often, and Mel didn't like to lose time having to avoid the shouting.
Sometimes, he would simply find ways to do things with Kit that Mamma had no interest in. But if he did just that, she'd feel like he didn't love her, too. So most of the time, he had to be with both of them at once, and learned how and when to divert conversation before it got messy.
9. Medal: 972 FY
"Brought you a present."
Mel jumped as an antique gold coin hanging from a heavy chain dropped onto his book. He hadn't even heard his brother's approach. "Kit!" He jumped up, grinning. "Thought you weren't gettin' in 'til tomorrow."
Kit grinned back. "We were runnin' early. What d'you think?"
Mel flushed and looked down at the coin. "Where's it from?"
"Dunno exactly, but it’s from back before the Blood War."
Mel's eyes widened. If the coin really was that old...
Kit was still grinning when he looked up. "It suits you."
He clutched it tight to his chest. "Thank you."
18. Daggers drawn: 975 FY
Mel took a deep breath. "I wanna join a ship this year," he announced, the morning after his fifteenth birthday.
His mother turned and stared at him. "No. Absolutely not."
"Mamma--"
"You're too young. I joined a ship that young and I hated it. Don't rush into things, Mel." She gripped the back of her chair tight.
"I'm fifteen," he pointed out, but he knew it was a lost cause. She’d never agree. "I really wanna go, Mamma."
She shook her head emphatically. "No. Wait a few more years. Please. For me."
He dropped his eyes. Maybe next year...
21. Ravage: 976 FY
It was another hurricane. There were always a few deaths in the really bad ones--usually not mages, but...
He made it through her funeral in a fog, barely hearing when relatives he barely knew extended their condolences. He didn't remember much of it.
But it was all over now. It took him a few minutes to open the door, and when he finally managed it, he thought it echoed. It was probably just his imagination.
He tiptoed through the house, which suddenly seemed ten times the size, feeling like a single grain of salt in a vast, empty ocean.
11. Rank: 976 FY
Mel closed his eyes and felt the breeze on his face. Despite everything, despite Mamma, despite going into a totally unknown life, Mel felt happier--freer--than he ever had before.
He was the most powerful of the three mages on his brother's ship. Even without experience, between that and being the Captain's little brother, he was deferred to. It was a weird feeling, but…nice. For the first time in his life, he had only Kit to tell him where to go, what to do. And Kit loved him.
He would never be caught between opposing authorities he loved again.
10. Wound: 977 FY
"How bad is it?" Kit asked, something unreadable in his eyes.
Mel blinked. "What are you talkin'--"
"I know you're still hurtin'," his brother cut in. "I need to know these things. I'm your Captain."
Mel flushed and looked down, running a hand across the scar. "Not that bad, most've the time."
Kit studied him, that unreadable tension spreading from his eyes to his jaw and shoulders. "Let me know if it gets worse," he said abruptly. "Need to know how much I can count on you to do."
"I will," Mel said, and dropped his hand. "I promise."
16. Ceasefire: 980 FY
The last three days Mel had just moved, until he couldn't anymore, getting water and food he recognized as he spotted it, trying to blot out the mental image of hands in a box.
But he couldn't anymore. He'd woken up barely able to stand, realized his shoes were near destroyed. He needed to stop for a few days before he could continue.
He flopped back and stared through the trees at the sky.
The branches above him shaped themselves into skeletal hands.
He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind so he could rest, recover and resupply.
13. Orders: 985 FY
He had no idea where he was being taken, what he'd be made to do.
He tried to think if he'd seen any collared water-mages before. He couldn't think of any off the top of his head, so that was no help. Most collared people were earth-mages. Presumably there were a lot of sound-mages, too--that Thread was common in this area--but he hadn't seen any.
The cart stopped. "Contraband," the handler barked after dragging him out, pointing at a pile of boxes. It took him a minute to understand, then he quietly flooded them, destroying whatever was inside.
8. Gun: 985 FY
He woke to a jolt like thunder, the impact on his senses one he hadn't felt since the last time he’d waited out a hurricane. It took him a second to figure out the source.
...flood!
He leapt to his feet and closed his eyes, trying to feel the water beneath him. --there!
He grabbed for it and felt another jolt, this one sharp and hot, rather the dull, percussive impacts of the flash-flood.
He choked and dropped the water, one hand going up to his neck.
When the flood subsided an hour later, it still hurt like hell.
14. Military intelligence: 986 FY
It took Mel awhile to realize he was in love with Isshiri.
He'd thought it was simple friendship. Then he’d thought it was closer, almost--
Not brotherly. Brotherly meant the Captain meant horror meant hands in a box.
But what brotherly should be.
But after days of watching Isshiri pick splinters out of his stump from the ill-fitted, unsanded wooden peg the guards had finally, grudgingly given him, calmly refusing help...
Mel quietly took the peg and did what he could to sand it, and knew that the brilliant, passionate, reckless, stubborn, too-young, incredibly strong fire-mage had captured his heart.
5. Battlefield: 986 FY
Mel felt like he was fighting Isshiri every step of the way, fighting to keep him on his feet, fighting to keep him awake, half-dragging him sometimes. But the checkpoint wasn't all that far, they'd make it. They had to.
He let his friend rest for a minute and looked around bleakly. Two days. A two-day walk, that's what the underground told me. Midmorning on the third day, and he still hadn't seen the--
There! The twisted oak, exactly like it had been described to him. "C'mon, kid," he whispered, dragging Isshiri up again. "Just a little farther. Hold on..."
17. Atrocity: 986 FY
He knew Captain Taz speculated. He couldn't blame her. If their positions were reversed, he'd watch when he thought she couldn't see and try to figure out what could possibly make her break faith.
That didn't make bearing up under her unsubtle (though he was sure she thought herself careful) staring any easier.
But he did, because the alternative was telling her, and he'd done pretty well at blocking those images out of his mind. He didn't care to relive them, wouldn’t say why, couldn’t bear to relive the guilt that he had accidentally turned his brother into a monster.
15. Shrapnel: 987 FY
"I'll do it," Riluke said.
Mel nodded, and, before Isshiri could volunteer, "Do me first."
"All right." She picked up the knife, and moved beside him. "Ready?"
He swallowed, and nodded again.
"On the count of three, then." She slid the knife under his collar. "One, two--" She cut.
He must have been screaming, but he couldn't be sure. All he felt were white-hot knives moving from his neck down his spine and out to the ends of his fingertips.
The next instant, he was lying on the floor, their blurry faces above him.
"Three," Riluke finished, very quiet.
22. Won the battle, lost the war: 987 FY
"Will you be all right?"
He looked up at Riluke. "I'll manage."
"What will you do?"
It was sort of surprising, how close they'd gotten while he and Isshiri were staying here. Maybe it had something to do with both of them being exiles, or maybe it was just sharing in looking after her cousin. Either way, he was almost as sorry to say goodbye to her as to him.
He shrugged. "Probably join the siege."
She nodded. "If you need anything, write me."
"I will."
They studied each other for a moment, then she inclined her head. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
25. War is hell: 987 FY
Mel hated being here--back near Feredar, where capture meant death if he was lucky--but he couldn't go home, couldn't stay with Lady Riluke, couldn't follow Isshiri. Here, he could at least do some good--mostly assisting with food supply and other infrastructure, since he wasn’t much good at combat.
One afternoon, not long after he’d joined the siege, a soldier was brought in with his right hand crushed so badly it had to be amputated. Mel fled his work area--too close to the medics--and spent the night hiding in the shadows, trying not to throw up.
20. Put to the sword: 988 FY
Mel folded his arms and glared at Commander Ledir. "No. No way I'm gonna do that."
Ledir rubbed at his temples. "It will shorten the siege."
"You keep sayin' that. But it's not just the King who'll get hit by this. He'll get hit least. I'm not gonna poison the people I'm here to help."
"I'm not asking you to poison anyone," he replied.
"You're askin' me to block the river, which is as good as poisonin' them," Mel snapped. "I won't do it. Find another way." Without waiting to be dismissed, he turned and stalked out of the tent.
24. Flashbacks: 989 FY
The commanders had tried to keep it quiet, but word had spread like wildfire through the camp--King Kellom's brother, Crown Prince Andrell, had defected.
Mel was mostly relieved--if Andrell was on the level, that meant valuable information. If not, he was a good hostage.
"Mel!"
He was jerked out of his musings by a familiar voice.
"...Isshiri?" How the hell did you convince your family to let you come?
The brilliant, passionate, reckless fire-mage didn't answer, just sped up and hugged Mel close. "It's good to see you again."
"Yeah," Mel whispered. You have no idea how much.
6. Tactics: 990 FY
Isshiri was so earnest "It'll work. I know it will."
"Too risky. Can't risk losing your king's support."
Mel stayed silent. There wasn't much he could add, other than making it clear he was backing Isshiri's play. Ledir had a point--but...
But it could end this, without risking innocents, or any mages still alive.
"Unless you want to send me," Andrell cut in softly, "it's your best shot."
Ledir turned and stared at him. "You think this is a good idea?"
Andrell shrugged. "I think it's a terrible idea. But I haven't heard a better one."
Ledir sighed. "Fine."
1. Warrior: 990 FY
Their trap was ready to be set, just waiting on daylight.
Mel sat next to Isshiri, offered him some bread.
Isshiri flashed him a quick grin. "Thanks," he said, then turned back to sharpening his knife.
...I could tell him, Mel thought. I could tell him about the Captain, about the box, about what I...I could tell him, and he wouldn't hate me.
Isshiri looked up. "Something wrong?"
Mel started to say it, then shook his head. "No. Nothin'." Isshiri didn't need to be distracted by Mel's problems right now. Some other day, Mel promised himself. Someday I’ll tell him.
19. Pyrrhic victory: 990 FY
Mel froze the guard who'd found him to the ground, and turned back in a panic. Isshiri!
His stomach sank. His friend was on the ground, King Kellom's sword at his throat. Mel didn't have time to think.
He tackled the King away from Isshiri and groped for the groundwater, deep below them. He felt the blade enter his side and couldn't pull the water up to the surface--but they were far enough from Isshiri, and he could--
He yanked and the ground collapsed. He heard a strangled, choking, liquid breath, felt it hot on his cheek--
Then nothing.
4. Hero: 1490 FY/445 I.C.
He is the subject of works of art and literature and scholarship the world over, a darling of historians--Artwick keeps excellent records, did even then, so a lot is known; a darling of novelists--that five-year gap between his brother and his arrest has never been filled, and his legendary friendship with Prince Isshiri gives romantics endless material.
Five hundred years later, Emperor Umeli of Farglass dedicates a new fountain in Feredar City--a replacement for the one that got him arrested all those years ago--a monument to the quiet, captivating water-mage who, long ago, saved the world.