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fuxfell — Memory Lane, Chapter 8
Published: 2009-01-19 11:42:28 +0000 UTC; Views: 319; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 2
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Too Close for ComfortWhile Bishop was taking his bath, Lana decided to have a closer look at the scrolls she had picked up from Jaluth’s desk. She took out the parchments from her backpack and started going through them, one by one.
To her astonishment – and discomfort – most of them were healing spells.
Do I really want to know why that harlot would need such an amount of healing spells for the “special plans” she had to get Bishop to hate her again?
The answer to that was a definite No, thank you. Unfortunately, her imagination was very forthcoming with explanations in spite of that. She shoved the images away and continued to rifle through the scrolls.
Healing, Healing, Delay Poison – oh dear gods – Neutralise Poison – what the hells was that hussy planning? – Healing, Healing, Symbol of Pain – the bitch! – Healing, Healing, Healing, Resurrection...
Resurrection?
By Graz’zt’s horns!
Lana suddenly was very, very happy they had made it outside. Those special plans really did seem special.
The sight of a pair of boots stepping up next to her made her flinch and look up. She had not heard anyone approaching. Bishop loomed above her, his hair wet and even more messy than usual, the stubble still on his face. Obviously he had not bothered shaving.
It’s strangely comforting that some things don’t change in the end.
He crouched down next to her. “Anything interesting?”
She quickly had a look at the last scroll in her hand. Teleport? She frowned. Somehow that did not fit with the rest.
“Well”, she said, “there’s a liberal amount of healing spells here. Some against poisoning, and a Symbol of Pain.”
He blanched a bit. “She really did have plans for me, huh?”
Lana nodded. “Apparently. And that still leaves the Resurrection scroll open for explanation.”
“Resurrection?”, he said, his eyes wide.
“Oh yes”, Lana replied. “I’m so glad we got away.”
“No as glad as me, believe me”, he said, hoarsely. “I really don’t want to know why she thought she’d need a Resurrection scroll.”
“I don’t even want to think about it”; she said. “The interesting thing is, all of these are scrolls of divine magic. But Jaluth is a mage, an arcane caster.”
“Maybe that’s why she needs scrolls?”
Lana shook her head. “No, arcane casters can’t cast divine spells, not even from scrolls. So maybe she is a cleric, too? I heard rumours of Necromancers, masters of the dead – and they are adept in the arts of the arcane as well as in divine magic. I wonder if that is what Jaluth is?”
He shuddered. “Very congenial. Your friendly Necromancer next door. A dream come true.”
“Nightmare, more like”, Lana said dryly. “The only thing that does not fit is this Teleport scroll. That’s arcane magic. And while I can think of uses for the other scrolls in one of her little games, though I’d prefer not to dwell on it, I can’t imagine what that Teleport scroll might be for. But it might come in handy, if they find us. I’ll keep it close by and ready.”
With that, she shoved the scroll under her shirt. “That might scratch a bit, but I’ll have it close. And hopefully, if we get caught, no one will find it there.”
He nodded. “Good thinking. Maybe I can make you something to carry it more comfortably.” He indicated at the other scrolls. “Will you be able to cast them? You’re an arcane caster too, are you not?”
Lana shook her head. “No, my powers are neither arcane nor divine. They come more from... within, from my blood. I really can’t explain.” She winked at him. “But I have... you can call it a knack for using these babies. And some training.” She held up the scrolls. “No matter if arcane or divine, I can use them all the same.”
She picked out a scroll with a lesser healing spell. “Show me your chest.”
She glanced up and found him looking at her with an odd expression on his face. To her annoyance, she felt the blood rise to her cheeks again. She sought refuge in anger.
“Don’t get any ideas, wolf boy!”, she snapped. “I’m not interested in what you’ve got to offer. I just want to see how bad it still is!”
He did not say anything, but started to pull the shirt out of his breeches. Lana felt her mouth go dry and resolutely kept her eyes on the scroll, pretending to study it intensely. When he pulled the shirt over his head, she looked up, her gaze falling to his stomach.
She swallowed, but this time for a different reason. It looked bad – honestly, it looked worse than before. The cuts still were there, crusted with blood. The bites and bruises had turned a dark violet with some shades of green. Some of the burns looked wet and seeped fluid, they certainly got infected. And all of the different kinds of wounds flowed into each other, leaving no inch of skin unaffected.
“Oh boy”, she said, weakly. “She really did a job on you.”
“That she did”, he replied, tonelessly. “But nothing like she had planned for today, it seems.”
“I’m happy we spoiled her fun.”
He shuddered. “Me, too.”
“Hold still”, she said, softly. “I’m going to use this on you.”
“Shouldn’t we keep them, for emergencies?”
“This is an emergency. Some of your wounds are infected, and we can’t have you get ill. Besides, we still have plenty left.”
With that, she started to recite the words from the scroll. Casting from scrolls always felt strange to her. It was so... different. Divine magic mostly felt gentle, soft, calm... power flowing through her, but it was so different from her own power, from the rush of otherworldy energy she was used to.
As she had tried to explain, her own powers came from within, seemed to burst out of her in a somehow exhilarating rush. Divine power she could feel coming from outside, flowing through her, using her as a vessel only. Arcane magic felt different again, even more strange to her, because it was so... organised, intellectual somehow, so very, very different to the chaotic surges of her power.
But no matter how strange, how foreign it felt, it still worked. She watched as the bruises faded on Bishop’s stomach, the cuts seemed to close themselves, the burns vanished, leaving only smooth, tanned skin and a few old scars behind.
The downside was that now, with the injuries gone, there was nothing to distract her from the sight before her. Her eyes slowly wandered over the narrow hips, the flat stomach with muscles rippling underneath the smooth skin, a thin trail of mahogany hair running down from his chest, disappearing into the top of his breeches, up to his chest, broader than his hips and stomach, lean, but well muscled like the rest; his strong archer’s arms, his shoulders, broad and sculpted...
She ripped her eyes away before they could reach his face, rolled up the rest of the scrolls and resolutely stuffed them into her backpack.
“Well, that worked”, she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “You can put on your shirt again.”
“Thanks, Ma’am”, he said.
Was there a hint of laughter in his voice? She decided against looking at him to find out. She really did not want to know.
She heard a rustling as he stuffed the shirt into his breeches. Then he grabbed his leathers and started donning them. Finished with that, he took his weapons.
“I’ll see if I can get some dinner for us”, he said. “Karnwyr will stay with you.”
She nodded, still refusing to look at him. “Take care out there.”
She heard him stepping up at her, his hand softly running over her still wet hair. “I will”, he said. Then he turned and left without a noise.
Lana sighed and returned to the fire, proceeding to dry her hair, her stomach still in a knot.
Hells, hells, hells. What is wrong with me?
After her hair was finally dry, more or less, and falling in waves over her shoulder and back, Lana sat back a bit from the fire looking up into the slowly darkening sky. She felt slightly apprehensive with Bishop out of sight.
We should not split up like this, not with the loony queen on our heels.
But if they wanted something to eat besides the meagre provisions they carried, Bishop would have to hunt alone. Because she had to admit her movements in a forest were less than graceful. Every deer would hear her stumbling through the bushes from miles away.
Stupid undergrowth. Always gets tangled around my feet.
But she felt terribly alone and lost right now. And she had to admit she worried about Bishop.
Don’t worry about him. He’s probably the most dangerous thing in these woods.
And if someone was after him, he’d hear them long before they could get a chance to see him. And he just would disappear from sight.
She’d never really noticed how at home he seemed in the wilds. Probably because she never travelled with him alone, if at all. But now she could not help but think how well he fit in here. He certainly seemed more alive, more sure of himself since they ran into the woods. More in charge than she ever had seen him. Well, no wonder – she certainly did not know her way around here. She had to rely on his help completely. Without him, she’d have a hard time making it out of this wilderness.
Somehow, he seems as wild as these woods...
Gosh, Lana, from which ditsy novel did you pick up that sentence?
Hells, hopefully he came back soon before she could get any more silly ideas. She sighed, her eyes falling on Karnwyr, sitting some yards away, watching her like he’d been told.
“Come here, furface”, she called out.
The wolf got up and trotted over to her. She stroked his head, lying back on her sleeping roll. He lay down next to her, stretched on his side, and she snuggled up to him, burying her hands in his thick, soft fur.
She woke to the smell of roasting meat. On cue, her stomach started rumbling. She opened her eyes, blinking a bit, looking directly into Karnwyr’s eyes, wolf grin on his furry face as usual.
“Awake at last?”, she heard Bishop’s amused voice.
Lana stretched, yawning. “You should have woken me.”, she said.
“You two looked so snug together, I did not want to disturb you. Besides, now that you’ve had a nice, long nap, you can take first watch.”
“We’ll have a hard time dividing the watches between us two”, she said, sitting up.
Bishop indicated at the wolf. “Karnwyr will take third watch. He’s more alert than any of us, anyway.”
“That’s true at least for me, isn’t it, furface?”, she said, affectionately rubbing the wolf’s ears. He gave her hand a quick lick, and she laughed, her eyes going to Bishop.
To find him looking back at her with that strange expression on his face again. Lana hastily averted her eyes, getting up, making a great deal about getting the wolf hair off her clothes.
When she was sure her face had a normal colour again, she went over to the fire and sat down, but kept her eyes on the roasting deer.
“I’m hungry as... well, as a wolf”, she said. “How long will it take?”
“It’s probably all right to eat”, he said, taking the deer from the fire. He got out his dagger and started cutting a piece, speared it with the dagger and handed it to her. “A bit bland, I fear, without any seasoning, but the best I could do.”
“Never mind, I’m so hungry I’d eat nearly anything”, she said, carefully taking a bite out of the hot meat. “Shangsh”, she managed with her mouth full.
He grinned. “You’re welcome. Care to lend me your dagger?”
Ooops. “Shorry”, she mumbled, getting out her dagger and handing it over to him.
He took it and they sat in silence, eating. After they finished, Lana cleaned Bishop’s dagger and gave it back to him. Then she sat down again, starting to braid her hair.
“Don’t”, he said softly.
She looked up, surprised. “What, why?”
He reached out his hand, touching one of her locks. “Because it’s so beautiful when you wear it open. It’s like flames dancing round your face. It makes me want to run my fingers through it, to see if it feels as silky as it looks.”
Lana blushed furiously again. She got up and stomped back to her sleeping roll, turning to anger as always when she felt helpless.
“Yeah, well, too bad, because I hate it falling into my face”, she snapped, stubbornly continuing to collect her locks into her usual braid. “And now, how about you get some sleep instead of talking rubbish? I’ll wake you for second watch.”
He shrugged, cutting a large piece of the meat, throwing it to Karnwyr, who adroitly caught it and started... well, to wolf it down.
“Good night”, he said, lying down on his sleeping roll.
“Night”, she mumbled, watching Karnwyr making short work of the meat. “You better catch some sleep too, cur, you’re on later”, she said to him, still feeling grumpy.
He looked at her and she could have sworn she could see laughter on his face.
Stupid mutt!
