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Dec 31, 2009, 2:39pm



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Dreamscape Fables :: »Fantasy Stories :: Fantastic Journeys :: Admin's Arena :: Ice and Shadows
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 AuthorTopic: Ice and Shadows (Read 99 times)
FuzyBee
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 Re: Ice and Shadows
« Reply #15 on Jul 23, 2009, 10:07am »

you know, it's kind of cruel writing a story like this in bits... XD I'm going to go insane wondering about it.

Seriously though, you should send this to someone, it is really really good Blackie. Like, really good.
I'm still wondering how you're going to tie all these characters and their individual plots together...
Should be interesting. ;P

Post more soon, I'm hooked =o
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 Re: Ice and Shadows
« Reply #16 on Aug 12, 2009, 3:19pm »

I don't know why I didn't think to post this with 'quick reply' last night.... would have made things a lot easier xD
Anyway, here's the beginning of chapter 2 =3
After this we see more of Rikiya, whose story is really blossoming in my mind right now ^^
*sigh* I feel so bad for that kid...xD


Two figures snuck through the caverns with the stealth of thieves and the terror of hunted criminals. The dark Underground was a decent mask for their escape, but each time they reached a pool of sludge or mud, Laila would order her companion to cover herself with the simmering ooze.
“Come on, in you go.”
“But Laila…” the mud-caked dragonet whined and lowered her head onto large forepaws. Aikya was already the size of a large greyhound but still a child by immortal standards, still able to pull the infamous ‘puppy dog eyes’ trick.
The drow elf wasn’t convinced. “Aikya,” she murmured firmly. “Do it. I know it’s gross, but you’re far too bright to go without.”
Aikya sighed and rose to her claws once more. Shaking off the loose chunks of old mud, she dipped into the mud pool and covered her golden hide with brown filth.
“There now,” Laila murmured as she rose from the depths like some kind of underworld reptile. “You look just like a bogbeast.”
Aikya didn’t say anything, preferring to sulk with her head low.

The pair fled Laila’s family, a vicious drow clan who had come into possession of Aikya’s egg by treacherous and vile means. Her uncle had never said how he parted a queen dragon from her precious egg, but she knew from the gleam in his red eyes that he had achieved his goal the way he liked best: Through slaughter.
Laila knew they were pursued, but so far they had managed to stay just far enough ahead of her family’s agents. However, they would never be safe until they reached the surface, a place where no drow could safely go. Laila would take Aikya to someone who could keep her safe, a long time friend, and then descend back into the Underground to seek shelter away from her family. As they walked, the drow pondered the sudden return of her friend to the upper world. She would have thought him dead if she hadn’t known of his plans. Several centuries ago he had sealed himself away from man and Sidhe alike, and she didn’t blame him; he had been passed around like a trinket in Faerie and then betrayed on Earth, leading to an inevitable emotional breakdown that had in turn lead to much mortal tragedy. But now Aramir had come back to the world of the living. Why? Laila could feel his presence as sharply as she ever had in the past, leading her to his exact location, and it didn’t make any sense. Not only had he come back, but he was on Earth, in the modern resurrection of the city his anger had leveled in the Dark Ages. She shrugged, pushing aside her reverie. Whatever his reasons, he was back and that meant he was her only hope for the safety of her little dragon pup.
“Laila?” Aikya blinked up at the drow, pushing her muddy shoulder against Laila’s armored thigh. “Where are we going?”
Laila smiled. “Home,” she replied. “A friend of mine is going to take care of you so you never have to be trapped down here again.”
Aikya frowned. “But what about you? I want you to come too…”
The drow sighed. “I know, kiddo. But I can’t. The surface is too bright for me.”
Aikya pushed herself closer against Laila and the two continued on in silence, drawing comfort from their closeness in their last hours together.

___________________________

On the surface, Emma watched a familiar face from behind a pair of dark sunglasses and a neutral green hoodie. She didn’t know if he could sense her (Probably can… stupid Faerie…) but she was taking no chances. After Aramir’s stunning departure the girls had scrambled to clean the house before Emma’s parents could discover the mess of wax and salt only to discover that he had taken the book with him. If she could have had no more contact with the prince she would have, but that book had cost her quite a bit, especially for something found second-hand, and she wanted it back.
Yeah… she thought. That’s all I want. Just the book. But was it really? She hadn’t spent a moment since meeting him without those sharp golden eyes caught in her mind’s eye, without the whisper of his voice drifting unheard through the air around her. It was just Faerie glamour, she told herself. But still…. He had taken command of her soul in minutes and it was all she could do not to run to him and demand he release her. For she found that, even as he crept into her heart, she hated him. Hated him for what he had done and for what he had stolen.
As she watched, sneaking along behind him like a burglar in the night, he stopped, glanced around warily, and stepped into a small, rundown looking shop. She trotted down the sidewalk, intent on following him even into the shop…. but couldn’t find it. Where had he entered? There was no rundown old shop here…? But she had seen him go in?

Aramir watched from the other side of the street as Emma looked around, confused. She darted into an alley to look for a door, then scampered back out in search of a camouflaged door on the outside. Silly human. She hadn’t even considered Faerie glamour yet, nor his ability to warp to wherever he chose at a moment’s notice.
Turning back into the dusty shop with a derisive shake of his head, he spotted his contact immediately.
“Aurius.” Aramir moved into the shadows at the back of the store where the old man sat in an old-fashioned suit reading a tattered novel. “I need your help, wizard.”
Aurius looked up, staring hard at Aramir from behind gold-rimmed spectacles. His mustache, as white as his immaculately groomed hair and beard, twitched as his lips bent up into a wry smile.
“Well, well, well,” The wizard said. “The prince returns at last. What can I do for you, lad?”
Aramir raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Course not,” Aurius scoffed. “I’m an old man. We aren’t liquid time like you damn Faeries. I say it again: What do you want?”
“I sense someone calling me, but I can’t place the voice. I need you to trace the call.”
“It would be something like that…” Aurius grumbled. “Well alright then.” He waved a hand and the shop closed itself as if it’s owner was on his lunch break. “Let’s get this over with.”

They went into the back room, where Aurius kept his books of magic and various arcane tools. For this he would use the crystal ball, kept immaculately clean even as the rest of his possessions sat under a layer of dust.
“You know the drill,” Aurius grunted as they sat on opposite sides of the pedestal. “Close your eyes and imagine it and I’ll do the rest.”

The call wound it’s way through his mind, a sinuous, dark tune that echoed through the souls of the two mystical beings and the crystal through which they channeled their magic. When it had built up enough power to resonate in the depths of the sphere, Aurius listened, then smiled. “We have company,” he commented. “It’s no wonder you could hear her so clearly; she’s been coming for days, by the sound of it.”
Aramir frowned. “Speak clearly, old man.”
“I don’t care how much royal blood you’ve got, you be respectful of your elders,” Aurius snapped back. He composed himself. “She’s coming up in the basement. I suggest you go meet her.”
Aramir grimaced but stood anyway and pushed through the steel door at the back of the room to descend into the basement, which was a tunnel into the Underground, the dark world ruled by the drow and their wars.
He glanced around in the darkness, seeing nothing and waiting for his magical sight to kick in. Below ground, there was no way to see without magic. A shadow shimmered in the distance, with a bright glow beside it. The glow was muted, as if hiding from the darkness, but there was no concealing it from his eyes. He was sensitive to the light, and this creature was as bright as could be with his magical vision.
As the pair drifted into clarity, Aramir started and smiled. How could he have forgotten the call of his best friend?
“Laila,” he called through the darkness. “You called?”
“Aramir!” Her voice was full of relief. “I’m so glad to see you.” The drow darted through the shadows to greet him with a fond embrace; she was the only one in Faerie or Earth he would allow to do so. “Why did you come out of the Abyss?” she asked, still clinging to his neck as if he would disappear when she let go. “The last I heard you destroyed a city and vanished…”
He chuckled and disentangled himself from her arms. “Yes,” he replied. “That’s true. I was… revived… not so long ago. But enough of that. I sense fear in you. What happened?”
She sighed and looked away, down toward what Aramir could now see was a muddy dragon pup at her feet. The poor creature had collapsed at her side and was panting on her side on the cold stone, exhausted from their flight. “My uncle captured her from her mother as an egg. I don’t know why he wanted her, but I knew I had to get her away before he used her for… whatever he wanted to do. And when I felt your presence on the surface again… You have to help her.” Laila’s crimson eyes begged her longtime friend to agree as she looked up at him and his stony heart melted a little. For Laila, one of very few beings ever to see him as more than simply the prince or an instrument of war, he would do almost anything.
“I will do what I can,” he murmured. “What is her name?”
“Aikya. Thank you, Aramir. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“A dragon!” Aurius had followed Aramir down into the Underground and now stared at Aikya with wide eyes through his gold-rimmed glasses. “Great Goddess, she’s…!” the wizard glanced up at the staring pair before him and gestured firmly with one hand. Come upstairs now, both of you. It’s not safe down here anymore.”
Laila instantly reached down to coax Aikya off the stone and led her up the stairs, followed by Aramir.
“What’s going on, Aurius?” Aramir asked sharply as they ascended. “Why the sudden haste?”
“The Ring is active again,” the wizard replied. “And that dragon is one of the High King’s chosen spirits.”
“The Ring?” Aramir was incredulous. “It can’t be. They died off centuries ago.”
“Not true. They are still very much alive, my boy, and they hunt for the blood of the Chosen.” They entered the magical back room and Laila closed her eyes painfully against the light, very bright through her dark-tuned eyes. Aramir guided her to a chair, where Aikya rested her golden, muddy head on Laila’s knee.
“As far as I am aware, there are four Chosen, and three of them have only recently come into contact with their power.”
“And the fourth?” Laila asked.
“He stands here with us in this room,” Aurius turned a steely gaze on Aramir, who froze for an instant then rolled his eyes.
“Of course,” the prince scoffed. “I am one of the Chosen and over the course of my many centuries, none of the mages surrounding me ever sensed it. I’m sure you’re right, old man.” The sarcasm in his voice didn’t go unnoticed and Aurius grimaced as Laila tried to conceal a laugh behind a false-sounding cough.
“You have been the target of assassination attempts, have you not?” Aurius snapped. “And your life riddled with tragedy? Have you not seen the Mark on your neck? I should have thought the thing obvious.”
Though skeptical, Aramir felt his confidence slipping and he put a pale hand slowly to the left side of his neck, where a strange prickling had begun to annoy him.
“Yes, that’s it,” Aurius smiled smugly. “It’s glowing even now. And look, hers shines to match it’s brother.”
Indeed, when Aramir looked down at Aikya, a golden shimmer pierced the mud on her forehead, twisted into a sinuous mark like an alchemist’s arcane symbol. The dragonet raised her lizard-like head and made a curious little chirping sound.
“Laila,” she murmured plaintively, “Why does my head itch?”
“Because you’re tired,” the drow replied absently, stroking her charge and beginning to chip off bits of dried mud. “Go to sleep and all will be well when you wake up.”
“What does this mean?” Aramir directed his question to Aurius.
The wizard paused before answering. “For you? I don’t know. I had thought to see you killed long ago, but somehow you have survived. The Chosen die regularly – if they don’t, they are too easily tracked by the Ring. The High King and Queen created them this way to protect their power. Perhaps when you hid in the Abyss it was counted as a death; perhaps you are destined to die soon. Are you afraid?”
“I fear nothing,” Aramir replied coldly.
“Good. Because I’m going to hide you myself to protect you.”
The prince snorted derisively. “How will you do that, old man?”
Aurius smiled smugly. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said. “Laila, you and the pup must be hidden as well. Come now, all of you. I must to set a Circle to do this right.”
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 Re: Ice and Shadows
« Reply #17 on Sept 11, 2009, 1:55pm »

I don't like to double post, but it looks like I have no choice here. Ahh well...
Anywho... this is a short one, but the next chunk picks up right from the end of this one and it covers the rest of the chapter, if I remember my own switches well enough so that should make up for it, right? =D And guess what - next chapter we meet the bad guys! Fun, yes? lol
Enjoy!

“It just vanished. Just like that.” Kat was skeptical as she chewed her bright pink bubblegum in the cafeteria, popping it obnoxiously every few minutes. “Are you sure you didn’t dream it, Ems?”
“I didn’t dream it, ok? Maybe he used glamour on me, or maybe the door vanishes after a fae uses it. I dunno. What I do know is that he’s still got my book.”
“Maybe you should go after him again,” Chelsea suggested. “You know, hunt him down and make him give you the book back.”
Emma sighed. How could they have forgotten so quickly the effect he had on them all? He was far too strong for any of them to force him to do anything.
Kat started to blow a bubble again and Chelsea popped it with her finger. “That’s gross,” she grimaced.
Kat grinned and stuck out her tongue, luckily sans gum. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t blow gum bubbles.”
“And pigs fly,” Chelsea scoffed.
“They do,” Alana surprised them all by chiming in suddenly, tilting her head sideways with wide eyes. “In Tibet. I read about it in True Insider.”
“See?” Kat grinned. “The gossip magazine proves me right. You’re jealous.”

The bell rang just as the argument was going to reach a new level of annoying. Emma stood up with a relieved sigh and left Kat and Chelsea to squabble as they turned to walk in the other direction. Their classes were nearby, but luckily separate.
“So… what are you gonna do?” Alana asked softly as she and Emma made their way toward their English class.
“About the book or those two?”
“Umm… both, but mostly… the book.”
Emma shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I’ll just have to try looking for that shop again.”
“But you said it vanished.”
“Maybe it’ll come back.”

They sat down in class, Alana in the corner, Emma one row up against the wall, all as usual. They got their books out like they always did, and Emma turned around to chat. They were completely oblivious when their teacher entered and kept talking until he started writing on the board.
“Why does he always appear like that…?” Alana whispered. “Is he a vampire or something? Does he come in the door as a bat so no one notices?”
Emma giggled. “I think we’d notice a bat flying in here.”

“Today we’ll be studying the three witches of Macbeth, so open your books to page….” His dull monotone blurred into the background and Emma began to doodle in the margin of a lined page. A circle became a Faerie Ring, and a series of lines became Celtic knots. She smiled dreamily and kept doodling… until a simple eye morphed into a more familiar one, burning with the intensity of a hundred years and flashing arrogantly from the white canvas of her page. She frowned and flipped the page.
“Ahh, at last,” Emma looked up to see Mr Mercer smiling at someone standing at the back of the class. She turned to look. Not one somebody but two stood at the door, awkwardly looking around as only new students can. “You must be Alexander and Adaeze. Please, sit. There are two seats for you there, by Emma.”
Knowing how hard it was to fit into a class on your first day, Emma smiled warmly at the pair as they settled in front of and beside her.
“Hey,” she whispered. “So you’re the new kids, huh?”
Alexander nodded and grinned back. “Name’s Alex,” he whispered back. “And if you call me Alexander I’ll never speak to you again.”
“Fine, as long as you never call me Emmaline.”
“It’s a deal. So… what are we doing exactly?”
Emma noticed Adaeze leaning back to listen and turned slightly to include her. The pair couldn’t be siblings, she realized. Alex was fair, with short, straight, light blond hair and pale blue-grey eyes; Adaeze was African-American, with dark brown eyes and long black (or was it dark brown?) hair that, although frizzy, was managed well enough in a tight horsetail.
“Macbeth,” she explained. “Did you read it at your old school?”
Adaeze shook her head gently, brushing a few stray black strands from her cheek. “No… and yes,” she murmured. “We were home-schooled.”
“I’ll help you as we go then,” Emma settled back in her seat. “For now… daydream or something. He never explains anything until he announces the assignment.”

____________________


Rikiya’s black hair was matted, his hazel eyes dull. How long had he been there, locked away in that spartan white room? He couldn’t tell anymore. Every time he tried to focus on a time, a day, even what month it was, he blacked out and woke to find that there was a large gap in his memory that often spanned several days. Various doctors said he was shutting the world out, trying to forget. Trying to forget what, genius? They also had several theories of multiple personalities and various mental diseases that seemed to get worse from shrink to shrink.
“Bull….” he muttered, shifting as well as he could while still bound in that repulsive strait-jacket. There was nothing wrong with him mentally, he was sure. Had been sure. Was sure once…. But now? He didn’t know. These sudden jumps in time had him twitchier than his aunt’s cat and twice as paranoid. When would he slip again? When would he wake up and not be a kid anymore? When would he wake up and be a senile old man? He shivered and a little sobbing noise wrenched the back of his throat. He bit his lip and closed his eyes against the pain, then snapped them open again, afraid of what he might find. If he stayed awake, kept his eyes open, he wouldn’t be able to slip. If he barely blinked, he would always be able to see the world, or at least the room, and he would never slip again.
“Riki?” It was Annie, coming in as she always did, with the same cheerful expression at the same time of day. He didn’t look at her, preferring to stare down at the white blanket at his feet. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Sweetie?” He barked a rough laugh and glared coldly at her. “Who are you kidding? You don’t care about me. None of you do.”
She looked at him sadly and sat down on the edge of the low cot. He stayed where he was, wedged into the corner with his knees bent in order to take up as little space as possible. “That’s not true,” she murmured. “We all care about you very much. We just want you to get better, but we need you to help us with that. Can you do that for us, Riki?”
He looked up and in his dark-rimmed eyes she saw a deep longing, but also a haunted bitterness. No one knew what he was hiding from, but something had happened, that was certain. She reached out to him with one manicured hand and he pushed himself back up against the wall as if to escape through it’s solid mass. Annie sighed and retracted her hand. “I know you’re still in there, Riki,” she murmured sadly. “Somewhere behind all the pain, all the chaos.” She stood up and turned back to the door. “You’re due for another talk with Dr Hanson after lunch,” she said as she left. There was a certain brightness behind the fog in his eyes now, and she smiled cheerfully again. “You’ll do fine.”
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