bindsthedead | Wedding crashers (for amonfire

Wedding crashers (for amonfire

Belisaere in summer was a beautiful place. It would take years before the city was returned to its former glory, but the Great Stones had been repaired, almost all the Dead had been banished or driven out, and repairs and expansion of the aqueducts were underway.

There was also a wedding. The Royal Palace had been partially refurbished, with particular attention payed to the Great Hall, where the ceremony was being held. Broken glass had been replaced, ash washed away and burnt wood replaced with polished oak.

Sabriel herself was more occupied with her duties as Abhorsen than with arranging the wedding- particularly with her new guest to look after. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd done it, but at least Amon was alive- and though she knew no way to return him to his own world, she could help him start a new life in this one.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

From the time he had been dragged out of the River to the day he had thrown in his lot with taking back Belisaere from the hands of Necromancers its residents loved to romanticize who and what he was. The Man From the River, the Foreigner, or his personal favorite, the Water Demon. They had all guessed and played at what sort of creature walked out of death alive, and with his peculiar affinity for water that allowed him to bend it to his will. The irony that such a commonplace ability he had spent his adult life loathing and fighting against should be a blessing in this foreign shore he washed on was not lost on.

Still, he stayed; he stayed for Sabriel. She had found him floating down the wrong end of the River and instead of finishing its work had dragged him out. He was alive because of her and made use of his waterbending to support Sabriel and her agenda. Noatak disagreed with Sabriel on many things. Of course they had come to blows, verbal and otherwise, time and time again over the course of their more than tumultuous partnership, but loyalties never swayed.

Tempers had flared when that boy had been dragged out from some cursed ship mast, and when Sabriel proved herself more woman that school girl. He didn't agree with the wedding; he didn't agree with Touchstone, but he kept his mouth shut. The invitation to the wedding a formality but he had no plan to disrupt it. Or he didn't until one of the guards at the border had slipped some damning information his way.

Astride a grey gelding of impressive size, Noatak caused a commotion among the poor, already stressed wedding planners when he galloped headlong into a group of screaming women who had been arranging flowers. He pulled the reins tight, stopping by Sabriel. He looked down at her, grim as ever.

"Mordicant spotted to the North."

At Amon's words, Sabriel's shoulders slumped, and she waved off the women that had been supervising the decorations.

"Give me thirty minutes."

In truth, it took closer to twenty for Sabriel to run up to her quarters to don hauberk, sword, and bells. She arrived back at the square looking grim as she took the reins of a bay horse. Still, she couldn't help but try to crack a joke as she swung herself into the saddle and gestured for him to lead.

"I suppose even the Dead must have heard of my wedding- why else would they be so eager to delay it?"

Noatak had at first been quite the gangly sight on a horse; he found four-legged animals so heavy in the front and too clever by half to handle difficult to grow accustomed. Now he saw in the saddle as if he had born in one, the large grey a normally temperamental beast aggressed in silence with its complacency. It was one example of many of how he pushed himself, immersed himself in the Old Kingdom. For all his grousing he put up with more than most would weather to be an effective right-hand to the Abhorsen.

"Forty miles up the Ratterlin, past High Bridge." Noatak dug his heels into the side of his gelding pushing the animal to an abrupt trot. "One of the settlements reported it."

Tellingly he was tight-lipped about the wedding, not even making canned apologies for scaring the florists close to the Death. Sabriel's joke passed without comment from him.

"We go on one horse when we reach the town," The horse picked up speed to a canter, "I don't need to tell you we can't be separated once night falls."

"You don't," Sabriel told him, urging her own horse to match his speed, "Hopefully, we'll be able to track down whatever necromancer created it as well."

Sabriel rode in silence for the next half- hour, focusing on keeping pace with Amon and watching her surroundings. Finally, she spoke.

"Touchstone and I have been considering how to stop the Dead, and deal with Free Magic Sorcerors. You and I can't be everywhere, so one suggestion was to train groups of Charter Mages to deal with lesser threats, in addition to working to expand the Royal Guard," Sabriel explained.

Touchstone lives up to his name, Noatak didn't say it, but the visible frown that marred his handsome brown face was clear as the day above them when Sabriel said his name. It wasn't as if he hated the man or even wished him ill, but there was always that tense air that choked whatever room that happened to occupy at the same time or when one was mentioned to the other. Sabriel either willfully or not failed to notice any of this.

"Training is fine," He said shortly, "Until you see your first Dead thing."

It hadn't escaped Sabriel's notice, though she'd avoided saying anything. Better to let them work it out between themselves, she had thought. Unfortunately it did not seem to be working. She frowned, but her friend's tension around her husband was not a subject she needed to bring up now.

"Most of the people interested have already seen the Dead- or their handiwork," Sabriel told him. And some of those had lost loved ones.

"Even if they lack an Abhorsen's power, most Charter Mayes can learn ways to fight Lesser Dead, like the Crossing Point Scouts do."

"Because that's a position with a high survival rate," Noatak snapped over his shoulder, "You're too busy salting the earth to concern yourself with rebuilding these peoples lives" the coolness in his voices carried over even though the strong wind riding a horse at almost a dead run. He steamed in silence for the next hour with Noatak ignoring anything close to a noise from Sabriel.

When their horses began to show signs of exhaustion, Noatak directed them towards the bend of a small river that cut through an open field. They didn't need to argue whether or not it would be safe to rest the horses with twilight fast at the their heels when there was a source of running water close at hand. Noatak practically stomped his way around his gelding in a huff as he lead the animal by the reigns to drink.

"They can't rebuild if the Dead and their allies tear it all down again," Sabriel felt a headache coming on, "Besides, I thought you wanted people to have the skills to defend themselves. And even if they don't fight the Dead directs, the Old Kingdom needs mages to maintain bindings and wards, as well as be healers and soldiers. My primary duty is to fight and bind the Dead, and deal with mages who abuse Free Magic and necromancy- I help with rebuilding when I can, but- Well, you've spent most of your time here by my side."

Sabriel kept her eyes open, paying attention to her death sense as she led her own horse to the water. Nothing close by, but she thought she sensed something, some distance away. Something powerful.

"We ought to set up camp soon. I'll raise a diamond of protection."

"Damn your diamond! They can't rebuild if you're sending them all of to die," Noatak's voice boomed across the glade; his horse kicked up the soft earth at the bank of the river in protest. "You're already spreading yourself too thin trying to be the queen and the Abhorsen. What are you basing this all on? The word of a boy who lived a fulfilling career as a shipmast for the last several centuries and your word as someone who hasn't lived here their whole life?"

It was how the operated: Noatak and Sabriel had wildly different opinions and butt heads over what felt like every little thing, but it served a purpose. Canceling each other out they more often than not were lead to a solution better than the one they would have reached alone. After his explosion, Noatak seemed to deflate.

"Approach this as you would in wartime. Speak with the Wall guard, or allow me. Maybe we can reach out to them and have your volunteers learn proper, up to date military protocol. You want soldiers, not a party of guardsman playing at Abhorsen."

"And before one of my ancestors preserved his body and spirit for the sake of the Old Kingdom, the Royal Guard were an elite group, tasked with the defense of the Royal Family and Belisaere," Sabriel reminded him. "Touchstone's a better battle-mage than I am- although I agree that the Crossing Point scouts probably have knowledge that we ought to learn."

"And they've deteriorated in the interim," He sniped only to relent before starting yet another argument when Sabriel agreed with him. "The Crossing Point understand best the farther back the Kingdom's own people can keep the Dead from the Wall the safer Ancelstierre will be."

Sun dipping behind the treeline the sky started to bleed orange and purple. Noatak could smell the air around him dropping in temperature, becoming crisper in the early autumn eventide. The seasons of the Old Kingdom were strange; he was sure it was only spring on the other side of the Wall.

"Sabriel," Noatak's voice intoned with a sudden, quiet seriousness. The flapping of wings was a distant sound, but he heard it all the same coming over the treeline to the east, "Put up that diamond. Now."

He didn't need to tell her twice. Symbols were quickly drawn up, and lines of golden fire ran between the four cardinal marks a few seconds before the first Gore Crow dived. Sabriel watched it writhe on the grass, Charter Magic eating through the body to leave only a little dot of writhing shadow.

Splitting a spirit into many fragments generally did its intelligence no favors- at least half the flock had dived after the first one, and golden flames arced above Sabriel's head.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that one of them will fall into the river," Sabrel muttered as she tried to calm the horses down and soothe her own rattled nerves.

Metallic and burning taste infected the back of his tongue once the gore crows broke through the treeline; the charter mark branded on his forehead a constant reminder of the constant as it was constant tang of Free Magic.

"You will never touch her!" Noatak bellowed in pain, barbaric as he drew the symbols for rest as he drew a wave from the water with his bending in unison to the magic inflicted upon him. A wall of water was thrown up and cascaded against the formation of gore crows that made a bee line for Sabriel.

Exploding in a burst of silver fire they never reached the shoreline as Noatak demonstrated the full fury of waterbending and the Charter in one fell swoop. Shouting like a madman he threw almost the entire current of the river over them. Nothing would come close to Sabriel so long as he drew breath; his mark a brazen light in the coming darkness.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Wedding crashers (for amonfire

no subject

Sorry for the delay

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

wow late w o w

no subject

no subject

Sorry for the delay

extra sorry