| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
 RE: The Captives (Everyone welcome!)
on: October 04, 2004 07:41
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(( I have agreed to take on Rand until she comes back – Yay! A new character for me!  ))
Renethain was standing in the stable yard, about twenty paces away from the wildest horse he had ever set eyes upon. The stallion was now tethered to a sturdy fence post, and Renethain was silently watching the beast, hoping that somehow it would grow used to him. If the steed was familiar with him, then if might make his task easier. As the creature showed signs of calming down, he took a few steps towards it, and cautiously put out a hand to rest on its back. The horse’s skin shivered as he laid his hand down, but it did not kick out – that was something at least.
Renethain gazed into the horse’s jet black reflective eyes, and wondered if he could really tame him. There was a fire burning inside this creature.. and he had to put it out.
Suddenly a yell filled the air, and Renethain glanced around, searching for the source… it sounded like Rand, and he was worried. He couldn’t understand elvish. Just then, the horse lashed out, it’s calm state destroyed by the scream. Renethain whipped his hand away just in time, and leapt backwards, to end up sprawling in the dust, narrowly escaping a deadly blow from the horse’s front hoof.
He cursed loudly, picked himself up, and ran out of the yard. He was going to find Rand. People don’t scream without a reason.
As he rounded a corner at full pelt, he saw a group of people, and skidded to a halt, trying not to make too much noise.
Thraden was just walking away in the opposite direction, and the remaining people were a guard, Rand, Sithern, and… He narrowed his eyes, feeling his pulse quickening. The skidding noise had alerted all four of them, and Renethain shut his eyes as Teleron turned to face him. He then turned his back on them, and walked a few paces back the way he had come. He turned again, gazing at Rand, trying to talk to her without actually speaking.
He didn’t know if Teleron would recognize him or not.
Rand’s eyes lit up as she saw Renethain coming into view, but she could still feel the sharp pain of where she had been hit. At Renethain’s odd behaviour, she frowned a little, but called out all the same.
“I have to go! They’re selling me! I have to say goodb – “ At that point Sithern’s hand had closed around her mouth, and her words were silenced.
“Silence, slave! I don’t want a rowdy servant about my house. If you think you can shout like that, you’ve got another thing coming!” Rand tried to struggle, but Sithern’s grip increased – he was a strong man.
Her eyes fixed upon Renethain, and they welled up with tears. She didn’t want to leave her friends.. she might never see then again, and that would be terrible.
Renethain clenched his fists, and thanked the heavens that Rand had not called out his name. That would have betrayed everything to the two men… and goodness knows what they would have done then.
He didn’t think that Teleron recognized him – he himself only just recognized Teleron. He was not so short… and looked a great deal more powerful.
“Rand… “ he hesitated. “I… I’m sorry to see you go so soon.” He glanced at the floor, and then returned his gaze to Rand’s watery eyes. He could never feel for anyone else what he had felt for Linnet and Ianthé, but he cared a lot about Rand. She was almost like another sister… even though she was of the elven kind. “You’ve been like a sister to me, Rand… We’ve shared our suffering, and worked together, with the others. Now our circle of friends will be broken.”
He knew that Sithern and Teleron were staring at him, but he did not care. “Whatever you do… keep hope.”
Rand felt more tears trickling down her face, and Sithern loosened his grip. After all, he didn’t want a slave coming home with a bruised face. Rand was touched by Renethain’s kind words, but they made her even more reluctant to leave.
“Are you quite finished?” Sithern spat out sarcastically to Renethain, and jerked the rope that he was holding. “Come – we’re going now.”
Teleron was still gazing at Renethain, and suddenly announced,
“Wait.” His tone of voice was strange.. and Sithern looked around to see what was wrong.
Teleron crossed the distance between himself and the stable slave. Renethain couldn’t help flinching as his ex-friend stepped nearer and nearer. Teleron put a hand on each shoulder, and tipped his head back, staring deep into his eyes. Renethain tried not to blink, not to avert his gaze.
Sithern was growing impatient.
“What’s wrong, Teleron?” Teleron did not reply at first.
“I thought for a moment… must have been the light… but…” He broke off, and released Renethain from his grasp, turning to his brother. “Well.. you look.” Sithern, still holding Rand’s rope, walked up beside his brother.
Rand was standing near to Reneth now, and their eyes met. Renethain was growing very tired of being examined like a piece of architecture.
“Is there anything wrong with me?” He said moodily, glaring at Sithern, who then exchanged glances with Teleron. Teleron looked back at Renethain, and laughed in the way that he had used to six years ago.
“Na – just an unusual smudge on you nose.” His eyes twinkled. Renethain suddenly felt a shudder within him, as he repressed laughter. Something about his old friend'’ humour made him want to join in. He couldn’t stop one side of his mouth from twitching upwards, and Teleron noted the fact.
Rand stared at her friend, bemused. She had seen that Reneth had been on the point of laughing – which was unusual, and now, she could plainly see a tear making a line in the dirt on his face. Why the sudden change?
Reneth glanced at her face, and mumbled a word,
“Sorry.” Then he sat down on the ground, and buried his face into his arm, trying to keep his sobs silent.
Rand tried to kneel down beside her friend, to comfort him in his distress, but the ropes forbade her movement. Instead, Sithern pushed her down the path.
“We’re going.” She glanced back at Reneth, who was still crying.
“NO! I don’t want –“
“It’s not for you to decide.” Teleron cut off Rand’s speech. Reneth rose his head to watch them go. As they were about to disappear from view, he called out.
“Look after her!” Teleron turned to look behind, and cast one last look at the stable-slave.
He just wasn’t sure. He had for a moment looked like the Renethain he had known… but he couldn’t be. He had behaved in the same way… but he couldn’t be! He cast the thought away. ‘Forget it! He’s just an ordinary slave – just with weird behaviour.’
Rand heard Renethain’s last words, and bit back more tears. As she stumbled down the path behind her new master, she was hoping that she could somehow say to goodbye to Gwan as well. She couldn’t bear to think that she wouldn’t see Gwan or Renethain again. Even Davina, or any of the dancing girls would be comforting to say ‘goodbye’ to.
* * * * * * * * *
Ianthé was idly walking through the town market, the precious few coins clasped tightly in her fist. She only gained money by doing odd jobs for the old woman who lived next door to her, and for being a part-time scribe for the merchant who lived in the next street. She wasn’t need much by the merchant, who preferred chatty people, but she got a few coins for the work that she did do. Anyhow, she had to use the money carefully, especially as she was caring for Tuan as well as herself.
She wandered through the stalls, settling finally for a loaf of bread, and some cheese. She still had a few bronze coins left, but not enough to buy anything worth having. So she continued on through the market, looking more at the ground than ahead of her.
So it was that she found herself in the middle of the slave market before she knew it. She looked around in horror, and retraced a few steps, before continuing along.
‘Slavery’ Despicable in her eyes. Perhaps she could find her brother here, though. It was not likely however, she had been though millions of markets alike to this one, on her travels – and with no luck.
Soon she would have to get back to Tuan, although she had left him safe with the old woman next door, whom she could trust fully to secrecy.
She knew that she couldn’t keep the boy forever. Soon he would be growing bored, and would want to return to his parents. She couldn’t keep him by force… that would be cruel, and she hated being cruel to children. With adults, it was different, but only if they deserved it.
She had finished going around the slave market, and now paused opposite the stand that the slave-dealer had set up.
“Excuse me…?” The man looked up, and his scarred face creased into a smile.
“Yes, dear?” Ianthé quickly smiled back, then posed her question.
“I was wondering if you could tell me the um.. largest place that holds slaves in this area? I’m not sure if I’ve phrased it right…” The slave-dealer nodded his head.
“I understand. The largest estate that I can point out to you would be… what’s his name? Um…” He turned to a colleague, and they discussed this question for some minutes before he turned back to Ianthé. “Lord Thraden’s place, at the other side of town. Very grand place. Imposing gates and all that. You can’t miss it.”
“Thankyou very much.” Ianthé set down one of her coins on the stand, then departed.
(( That was a little longer than I intended  I’ve used up at least an hour on that.. oh well. Anyway, I hope Leighla comes back soon! Perhaps she could get the thread moving more quickly… ))
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Leighlia |
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| anduril269 |
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| Leighlia |
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| anduril269 |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| anduril269 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
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| anduril269 |
RE: The Captives (Everyone welcome!)
on: October 23, 2004 06:43
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Linnet listened to Rand’s story with subtle abhorrence. She just couldn’t believe that people could be so cruel. Then when Rand exclaimed about her brand, her expression deepened.
“They branded you?” Linnet was disgusted. She knew nothing about slavery… Rand nodded.
“They always brand slaves. Each master had his own different mark – so if you run away, you can be recognized and brought back. I’ve still got Thraden’s mark – I never want to go back there!” Linnet stood up, and brushed the creases out of her dress.
“I’ll ask my husband. I have no order over the business of slaves… the maids just serve me, and do whatever I tell them.”
Linnet’s words reminded Rand that she was still a slave, and Linnet was her mistress, no matter how much her situation was improved... She would never be free. Rand had the sudden impulse to cry, but she bit back her tears.
Soon she would be going through the painful process of having the brand removed, and a new one put on.
Linnet took hold of Rand by the wrist, and led her out of the room. When she was in the corridor, she called for Adwen. The slave appeared almost instantly, and Linnet asked for her to be taken to Sithern.
“She’s still got Lord Thraden’s brand – I don’t know how they get rid of them… but take her to your master and explain the situation.”
Then Linnet left Adwen and Rand alone.
Adwen gazed at the new slave with pity.
“It hurts an awful lot having brands taken off and redone… But I expect you’ve been through it before. Come on.” Adwen walked briskly down the corridor and up several flights of steps. She crossed the courtyard, and came to a door, which was just ajar. She knocked.
“Come in!” The sharp voice of Sithern came through the opening, and Adwen walked into Sithern’s study, pulling Rand in beside her.
“Lord.” She curtseyed, and Rand hurriedly copied Adwen’s movements. “My Mistress has sent me to you to explain about this new slave. She still has the brand of Thraden upon her.” Sithern suddenly remembered that this was true – they had omitted to remove the mark. He glanced at his brother who was sitting opposite. Teleron shrugged.
“Well… we’d best do that as soon as possible.” Sithern stood up, and made to leave the room. “Stay here, Adwen. You are not needed.” Sithern swept Rand out of the room, leaving Adwen alone with Teleron.
Rand was ushered across the courtyard quickly – it was just beginning to rain. They walked under the covered walkway of trellace work, and across the back yard to a long low building opposite the slaves’ quarters.
Sithern pushed open the door, and a room full of guards met Rand’s fearful gaze. They were grouped around a small fire, playing with cards.
Sithern called to three of them, and then gave his orders.
They walked around to the back of the stables, where the blacksmith room was. This was where some of the more skilful guards made horse shoes, or branded slaves.
Once there, Sithern turned and returned to his study – before the rain grew any worse.
Rand glanced at the guards nervously. One of them had started up the fire, and was waiting for the furnace to heat up. Another was pulling out various rods of metal, examining each one – looking for the correct mark. The third was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze upon Rand, watching her.
The second guard had found the right brand, and had moved over to the furnace. He thrust it in, and every now and then drew it out to inspect. Soon it glowed white hot, and Rand was shivering with nervousness and fear.
The first guard mumbled something to the second, who motioned to the third one, who had not yet done anything. Then the third guard ran his firm hands through his hair, and moved over to Rand. She stepped backwards a few steps, and was about to run, when she found his hands upon her arms, gripping her with such strength like iron.
His dark eyes looked into hers, and she almost screamed, but his hand was covering her mouth in an instant.
“You’ve got such soft skin.” Rand was gasping for breath. The guard turned her around, and took her hair in one hand, pulling it out of the way of the nape of her neck, where the brand was. His other hand was still over her mouth, and his arm was tight around her waist. Rand felt like she was being squeezed to death.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to undo your dress partly. It’s covering the mark.” The other two guards exchanged glances, and laughed. Rand squirmed in the guard’s grip as he unfastened four clips down her back, his hardened skin brushing against her soft flesh.
“Got the rod?”
“Yuh.” The second held the glowing metal over the mark for an instant, then brought it firmly down upon Rand’s skin. The guard holding Rand felt her shudder, and her muffled cries were heard. Her legs grew limp, and she could no longer stand. The rod was replaced in its place, and the guard released his grip over Rand’s mouth, arms, and waist.
She sank down onto the floor, and lay gasping for breath. The first two guards soon departed, but the third remained, watching the slave-girl with interest.
“What’s your name?”
Rand stared up at him in surprise. She hated this man. He looked… well, she couldn’t deny that he was handsome, but there was something in his eyes and face that she couldn’t abide. And yet he was asking her such a simple question.
“Rand.” She mumbled. She summoned strength to reach behind her, and fasten up her dress quickly.
“Rand.” The guard repeated her name, using such a gentle tone of voice, that it was almost like music. "Rand. A beautiful name – it matches the owner of it. My name is Pholn.” He stepped closer to her, and she pushed herself backwards, still sitting on the floor. “Come now, don’t be afraid of me. There’s no one here but you – and me.”
He reached out, and pulled her up, setting her gently down on her feet.
His arm slipped almost unnoticeably around her waist, and Rand tried to pull herself away, but as soon as she made the slightest movement of escape, the Pholn’s dove-like gentleness melted away into iron hardness. So as she squirmed slightly, his grip tightened, and she was forced to relax.
Rand understood perfectly now what Pholn was like. As long as she let him touch her, he would be gentler towards her… but if she resented him – he would be as harsh as stone.
She closed her eyes, the lashes sweeping across her cheeks, as a single tear fell from them.
Pholn’s hand moved up her right leg, up to her waist, beneath the fabric of her dress.
Rand felt like throwing up. She couldn’t bear the touch of his skin against hers, but there was nothing she could do. Her strength was weakened, and she could never stand up to this guard anyway.
His other hand tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear, then journeyed around the side of her face, ending up with his fingers upon her lips. She shuddered, then suddenly kicked out at him.
His hands moved back, and her dress fell back into place. His hands gripped her upper arms, and he pushed her outside into the rain. His green eyes flashed, and she screamed, but he forced her down onto her knees in the mud.
“Rand. Don’t mess with me.” He took hold of her hair, and pulled her head further and further back, so that she fell over onto her back, lying in the mud.
Pholn’s knees were on either side of her legs, and she gazed up into his eyes from her prone position.
His hands grasped her wrists, and she struggled to free herself. He struck out at the side of her face, and she gave a small moan, her strength vanished.
The pain of her brand was still biting at her, and now the humiliation she was suffering made it doubly worse.
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| Leighlia |
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| anduril269 |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Leighlia |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| anduril269 |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Leighlia |
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| anduril269 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| anduril269 |
RE: The Captives (Everyone welcome!)
on: November 03, 2004 06:44
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(( Welcome back Elven! I know I've used Rand in this post.. but I'd already written it before you came back. I've added an extra bit to accomodate your last post. After this though, Rand's all yours! ))
Renethain shut his eyes again as he was lifted off his feet by the two guards. They proceeded to jerk him along to a long low building. Renethain noted the smallness of the windows, and the fact that they were barred. He was about to think that it was even worse than the slaves’ quarters, when one of the guards suddenly, and without reason, punched the side of his head. Renethain drew in his breath quickly, and swayed. Stars flew around and around his vision, and everything lost its colour and merged into one.
Still reeling, he was only dimly aware of the passage into the building. He heard a key turn in a lock, and found himself falling heavily down onto a rough floor.
He raised a bruised hand to his head, and felt something warm and wet trickling down past his ear, leaving his fingers vaguely sticky.
Renethain swore loudly, and tried to adjust his vision to the dark. A single shaft of light penetrated the shadows from a narrow aperture high up in one of the walls. It was too small to be called a window.
Renethain stared up at it, and clenched his fists. What had he done to deserve this? His mind turned towards his friends. What had they done to deserve the same? He realized that he knew nothing about Gwan, Rand, and Davina.
Renethain cast his eye once more around the room. He had only been there for a few seconds, and he was hating it already.
Then he heard a burst of shouting coming from somewhere nearby. He frowned, thinking that he recognized the voice… His guards were still outside, and they shouted something back in reply, and banged on the door next to his.
Renethain was silent, and listened to the receding footsteps of the guards. Then he ventured to use his voice.
“Gwan!” His voice cracked, so he coughed hoarsely, and yelled out again, “GWAN!” Is that you?” Then he paused, but confident that it was Gwan, he continued. “It’s me – Reneth. They found out about that guard – and I was rude to Thraden. I have a feeling that he’s planning to make some sort of spectacle out of my punishment. That guard certainly won’t let me live – that’s for sure.” Renethain sank to his knees, then raised his voice once more. “Gwan? What happened to you? Why are you here?” Then he remembered the scene he had come across when meeting Thraden, and he closed his eyes, willing it to be untrue. “Gwan… it wasn’t you, was it? In Cazildir’s rooms?” Renethain listened for his friend’s answer, praying that he would receive the answer he was hoping for.
* * * * * *
Teleron gazed at the frantic slave, and wondered what to do. It was not often that this sort of thing happened, but he was determined to deal with it properly. He waited until the girl regained normal breathing, while he took in the details of her muddy dress.
“Calm down, or I’ll report you. What happened?” He then recognized her as the girl they had purchased from Thraden.
“It… he… I can’t tell… he… the guard…” Rand gasped out, the words sticking in her throat. She couldn’t tell him… she couldn’t. Then Teleron’s voice broke the silence.
“The guard tried to do something to you?” Rand stared fearfully at him, then nodded. “He tried to rape you?” Tears ran down Rand’s face. “I understand,” Teleron spoke. “It’s happened before.” However, Teleron didn’t let on that he had done the same thing to other girls.
“How about you get cleaned up, and do something to take your mind off it, hm?” Teleron wouldn’t mess with one of the guard’s acclaimed play-thing, but he somehow felt the tiniest bit sorry for her – after all, she was new here, even if she was a slave.
Rand opened the rickety door of her little cell, walking into the room, slid the door shut, and leaned against it, breathing deeply. She glanced down at her wet and muddy dress, which clung limply to her skin. Rand headed over to a large chest which stood against one of the walls. It almost filled the room, as the space was not great. The chest, and her sleeping pallet were the only pieces of what you could call ‘furniture’ in the room.
The elf opened it with a creak. It was full of clothes. All were apparently handed down to her by the previous slave-girl in her place. There were ragged kitchen frocks, pinafores, flimsy dancing dresses, short skirts, smart evening gowns, and aprons.
Rand pulled out a pale auburn dress, simply cut, and fastened a skirt apron of blue linen around her waist. She picked up the soggy dress, and on her way to the kitchen, dumped it into the washing basket to be cleaned up later.
She entered the kitchen. Adwen was morosely scrubbing up a baking dish – she seemed to be less mirthful than usual, and her cheeks were flushed. Rand frowned, not knowing that the other slave was thinking the same about her.
Adwen tossed a cloth over to Rand, and pushed a tin box towards her.
“You’d better make a start at polishing the silver in the dining hall. I expect the mistress will be in there at this time, but that shouldn’t matter.” Rand picked up the box, nodded, and left the kitchen, wondering where the dining hall was – she hadn’t been shown.
When Rand finally found her way to the right room, she found not only Lady Linnet there, but also Lord Sithern and his brother. She nervously entered the room, and after glancing about her, located the silver cabinet. She headed over to it, and turned the little key in the glass door.
The three other occupants of the room were seated around a small table. Rand noted the serious expressions on their faces, and when Linnet glanced up at the slave-girl, she only gave her a blank smile. Her eyes were shadowed. Sithern and Teleron didn’t even acknowledge her appearance.
Rand began to polish the set of silver plates.
“Well? What are we going to do?” Rand’s elven ears pricked up at the sound of this strange line as Linnet’s voice broke the silence.
“I’ve said before – Teleron and I will go together and fetch back the child.” Linnet’s hands twisted nervously in her lap.
“Are you sure? I mean… simply ‘fetching’ him back… will you cope?”
“Honestly Linnet, she’s only a girl.” Teleron voiced his opinion, but Sithern cut across.
“No Teleron – she’s a woman now. She’s grown up too over these years. It’s not just us. And I’ve met her – if only distantly. She’s not stupid.” Teleron just shrugged.
“I only meant… well, two men against one woman? We only have to snatch the boy, and head home again.” Suddenly Linnet buried her face in her hands, and started crying. Between her sobs, she spoke in a muffled voice.
“Why would she do this? What reason does she have? Oh… we used to be such friends!” The two brothers exchanged glances, but said nothing.
Rand was silently watching the whole scenario, taking in every detail. It was most interesting, but she didn’t have a clue what, and who they were talking about.
Teleron mouthed something across the table to his brother, but Rand couldn’t work out what it was. Sithern only nodded in reply, and Teleron turned his gaze to the table top.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Linnet raised her head again, and Sithern called out,
“Come in!” A guard entered, showing in a very battered looking footsoldier. He was out of breath, and looked like he had been running, which must have been difficult, as he was wearing chain mail, and a breastplate.
“Lord Sithern,” He gasped out, “I’ve come from the outskirts. The closest village to here is under attack – orcs. The men there are holding out, but they’re… forgive me sir, they’re not very well trained. We need back up.”
Sithern glanced at his wife and brother. Rand’s hand stopped moving the cloth over the silver surface.
“I’ll go.” Sithern shook his head at his brother. “Teleron – you tackle Ianthé on your own. Linnet –“ Linnet had turned very pale. “Don’t worry darling, I’ll be fine.”
Sithern rose, and accompanied the soldier out of the room. They stopped off to pick of a dozen guards, then headed out of the town.
(( Yes - I know I said I'd write Ianthé's part... but I haven't typed it up yet. Oh, and I'll write a bit for Pholn as well.))
[Edited on 3/11/2004 by anduril269]
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| musicalgal123 |
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| Elven_Sweetheart |
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| musicalgal123 |
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| anduril269 |
RE: The Captives (Everyone welcome!)
on: November 11, 2004 08:35
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((I don’t think it’s breaking any rules… *sighs* Guess what I’ve done? I’ve flipping gone and lost the posts I’ve been typing up.. aaargh.. there was about 7 pages of it.. and I can’t find it anywhere! Luckily I’ve either posted it already.. or typed it up.. but half of Ianthé’s post is gone… so I’ve got to use my rubbish memory… I’ll try and write Reneth’s next post as soon as possible.. but I’m being buried alive under work – and I have my first important exam next week… 4 days to revise… and overdue work))
Teleron glanced at Rand, who had spoken.
“Ah.. I don’t think so. Linnet?” Linnet didn’t lift her gaze from the table, but shook her head. Then when she rose from her seat, she quickly departed from the room, pausing only at the door to speak to Teleron.
“Be careful… look after Tuan.” Teleron nodded, and sat alone in the room for several minutes before leaving. He was contemplating his mission.
Ianthé was kneeling on the ground of the back-yard, rinsing her few dishes in a bucket of rain water. The sleeves of her black shirt were rolled up to her elbows, and her black boots were half unlaced to make kneeling more comfortable. She had left Tuan again with the old woman next door, as the little boy had been determined to learn how to knit from that lady. Ianthé smiled as she recalled his attempts – wool strewn everywhere. Tuan had peculiar whims like that, and she found them often amusing.
Ianthé had been willing to let him go – it gave her a chance to finish off some chores, and get on with making those crates for the fishmonger. She did odd-jobs for people around the town. She had to – it was her only income.
After a few minutes, she thought that she heard a thump on her front door. She brushed soap suds from her tunic, stood up, and went to investigate. A frown was upon her face – she never got visitors… who could have told anyone where she lived? Unless she had been followed… The thumps came again – whoever it was, was getting impatient.
She picked her way through various items lying on the floor of the kitchen, and reached the door. Keeping the door on the chain, she unlocked it, and opened it a crack.
Teleron had waited a few minutes, then just before he was preparing to break the door down, the door opened, and he could see one sparkling black eye peering out at him. The black eyebrow above it bent into a frown. Ianthé had not recognized him.
Teleron placed a hand upon the door, intending to push it open, but it was on the chain, and would not move.
Ianthé finally spoke.
“I’m sorry – you must have got the wrong house.” She expected the stranger to leave, but he stubbornly remained where he was.
“No… you’re Ianthé.” Ianthé stood in silence, her heart beating faster. How could this perfect stranger know her name? In her confusion, she didn’t realize that the chain had slipped, and the door slowly swung upon to reveal her whole face and figure.
Teleron took a step closer.
“Yes, you’re Ianthé. I recognize you, even if I am a stranger in your eyes. You’ve not changed all that much, y’know.” Ianthé stared, her lips slightly parted, but then her eyes flickered, and she stepped quickly backward, trying to push the door shut. Teleron however stopped the door from closing, and pushed it so violently that Ianthé had to jump backwards and out of the way. The door banged against the wall, rebounded, and slammed shut.
Ianthé skirted around the table, and stopped with the length of it between her and Teleron.
“Don’t be afraid, Ianthé.” Teleron gazed at the young woman standing opposite him, her hand within reach of a kitchen knife. “I said you hadn’t changed much. You’re still beautiful, still…desirable.”
Ianthé glared at Teleron. No wonder she hadn’t recognized her ex-friend. The Teleron she knew was a smaller, quick witted, but sometimes shy lad. This man was taller, more well-built…no longer little lithe Teleron – but a strong man.
“You’re still a hopeless flatterer, Teleron. You really think I’ll fall for you - after what you’ve done?”
Teleron simply laughed, and suddenly reached his arms out across the tabletop, seizing both of her wrists. He yanked hard, and Ianthé’s feet left the ground. She was pulled up onto the table, scattering objects to the dusty floor. Teleron looked down at her face, and read the anfer in her flashing eyes.
“Calm down, pretty vixen.” Teleron put all of his weight on one end of the table, and with a creak, it tilted jerkily. He let go of Ianthé’s wrists, and she instinctively brought up her arms to protect her head. There was a crash, and Ianthé was flung on top of Teleron, one of her legs over his shoulder. Her hair became undone, and hung down to the floor. While struggling to free herself, she muttered angrily.
“Y’know, it’s not best comfortable hanging upside down.”
Without warning, Teleron let her fall, and she had just enough time to throw her arms over her head once more before she hit the ground.
Ianthé stared up at Teleron.
“Well. You’ve shown that you’re serious at least… but was that really necessary? Now that’s over, perhaps you’d like to explain why you’re here.” Teleron smiled, and raised her to her feet.
“I came to see if you were still the sweet girl I once knew.”
“Liar!”
“Fine then – as you’re obviously not… I came to get the boy back.”
“I knew it!” Ianthé nodded… that sounded more rational. Then she moved several paces away – she couldn’t bear being so close to Teleron – not now. She had actually quite liked him, six years ago, but now that was completely vanished.
“He’s not here.”
“What?”
“He’s not here.”
“So… the house is child-free?” Ianthé rolled her eyes, and spoke sarcastically.
“No, I just felt like saying that.”
“Right.” The ghost of a smile was upon Teleron’s lips, and Ianthé backed off. She didn’t trust that smile… and she was quite right.
In an instant she found one of Teleron’s strong arms around her waist, and the other had caught hold of her hair, tilting her head back. Teleron’s hand clasped the back of her head, and he forced her head forwards, until their lips met in a rough kiss. The dark haired girl shivered in his grasp, but whatever she tried, she couldn’t free her body from his.
Ianthé shut her eyes tightly, and felt as if she was being drowned in anger. She suddenly summoned all of her power and strength, and put it into a kick. She kicked hard – where it hurts.
Teleron gave a yelp of pain and his grip loosed. Ianthé shot away across the room, and snatched up the kitchen knife, but as she was turning around again, the sound of metal reached her ears.
Her eyes fell upon the sword now grasped in Teleron’s hand. It pointed dead straight at her, and his hand did not shake.
“So.” She put down the knife. “The sword always wins in the end. What’s your plan now?”
“You’ll come with me up to Sithern’s villa. You will tell him where his child is. You will be sorry. You will accept the consequences of your rash actions.”
Ianthé glared at him.
“Sithern!” She spat out the name as if it were too bitter to linger in her mouth. “He can do nothing. He was too afraid to come himself. He sent his little brother.”
“Shut up! Do you exactly think I’m little? You’re the little one.”
“And why do you suppose that is? Because I’ve been living off the dust of you and your brother’s luxury… I’ve been right down to death’s door.”
Teleron raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
In the silence, a small noise could be heard. The door creaked upon it’s hinges, and a small tousled head appeared around it.
“Uncle?” Tuan stared at Teleron, then his gaze rested upon Ianthé. “ …Yanthy?”
Ianthé gazed at the child like a dumb thing. Whatever could she say to the boy? The kitchen was a mess… signs of the fighting lay everywhere. However, Teleron stepped forwards to the little boy, and spoke lovingly.
“Tuan! You’re back…” He smiled down at the boy, and proceeded to explain. Ianthé stood in a contemptuous silence, listening to his lies. It ran along the lines of this:
“I was visiting Ianthé – she took me for a thief – bit of a struggle – all sorted out now – we’re going back to your mummy and daddy.”
Tuan glanced up at Ianthé, who merely shrugged, and swept out of the room, calling back,
“Don’t worry – I’m coming back.” When she returned, her thick hair had been brushed out and it was tied securely with her usual silver wire. She had slipped on a cleaner tunic as well, and had just finished lacing up the neck and sides.
“Let’s go.” As they stood in the street, Ianthé turned to lock the front door, then the three of them walked up the street.
It was an odd sight… the richly dressed lord, the little boy, and the young woman all in black.
(( I hope my post isn't breaking any rules either! ))
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