Talechaser ~ Reverie
Mar. 31st, 2007 02:09 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Aeia's Toy
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Talechasing challenge for 18 February 07. General Yan-ish musings. This was strangely easy to write oO Not used to him being easy to write. Usually I make him say/think/do something and he tells me nuuuuu I wouldn't do that, but this time, just worked. Am I finally getting a handle on him after four years? =0! Unlikely, but we can hope X3
~ ~ ~
Ni-Yana spread out around the Ra-Lin below, a random scattering of a child’s red building blocks in the sand. The palace, ringed with a high wall, was the only hint of organisation in the city. It was an ancient settlement now, its fallen king an ancient man.
Yan sat down on a boulder by the cliff’s edge, glancing nonchalantly down at the steep drop below. Even though he had hidden the yrae stone for the time and was flightless because of it, the sight of that deadly drop was nothing more than a view.
Footsteps scuffled through the sand behind him, kicking roughly at a rock before Yan saw it fly over the edge of the cliff, landing too far down to hear it clatter against the rocks at the cliff’s base.
‘You said they’d have water.’ The voice was parched and raspy, but the young man’s tone kept the words strong.
‘They do.’ Yan gestured to the slow, lazy curve of the Ra-Lin.
‘That’s not a river.’ The weak footsteps scuffled up beside Yan, kicking another pebble over the edge of the cliff. ‘That is a strategically placed line of puddles.’
‘Call it what you will,’ Yan murmured. ‘It is still water, and it is the only fresh water that remains in the kingdom.’
The boy rested his rear on the boulder beside him, arms folded as he watched the child’s building blocks of Ni-Yana.
‘We can’t fight them,’ the boy predicted with a shake of his head.
‘We can, because we have no other choice.’
‘But we can’t win.’
Yan made no reply. He knew that these people’s only hope was that most of the city had been evacuated, moving downstream to the sea or upstream to the well-watered mountains of Kazin. But it was the first time in Yan’s memory that a drought had been so bad that it had stopped the Ra-Lin flowing. The Raykinians didn’t know how to handle it. They prayed to Lin to send them rain, to Aeia to set her sister free, just for one day, so she could make it rain and let them live.
The people of Ni-Yana lived in desperate hope, knowing the river would begin to flow again, because they knew nothing else. Even for Yan, the sight of the kingdom’s life source reduced to puddles no more than knee-depth filled him with dread. He’d been around for a thousand years now, and in all that time, the Ra-Lin had been the only constant. Raykin had faced droughts before, certainly, but the very life of the great river had never been threatened before.
‘What’s death like?’
Yan raised his eyebrows and glanced over at the boy’s gaunt face, so strong and determined with the weight of his question.
The boy’s eyes flicked pointedly to the scar on the left of Yan’s face, the fear now apparent in his dark eyes. Something made him think that accusing Yan of his own identity was a dangerous thing.
The fallen king grinned wryly and tuned his gaze back on what was once his city. ‘Which part?’
‘All of it.’ The boy shrugged, still nervous. As well he might be, Yan mused.
‘Have you ever been cut by a sword in battle?’ he asked.
‘A spear, yes.’ The boy turned his head to one side, displaying a dangerous-looking scar on his neck. ‘This was the worst.’
Yan nodded. ‘Only skin deep. I could feel the blade cutting through bone and into my mind.’ He didn’t look over as the boy fidgeted beside him. ‘But still only skin deep. The true agony of the very life being torn from my body…’ He broke off and shook his head with a sigh. His voice darkened with memory when he next spoke. ‘It was like everything inside me was being slashed out with rusty fish hooks. I was burning hot and frozen stiff from cold at the same instant. My chest, especially… There are no words from any human tongue that can be put to that torture. I don’t wish it on anyone.’
The boy was silent for a time, perhaps trying to imagine what Yan had done his best to describe with such a poor Raykinian vocabulary. Perhaps it could only be described by the blood-curdling scream of agony he’d wanted to let out at the time.
‘But…’ The boy drifted off, afraid to ask his next question. Afraid of what the answer might be, or afraid of angering the fallen king? ‘But after that… did you… are…?’
Yan nodded slowly, feeling a faint smile stretch his lips. ‘I met the goddesses, though I cannot say how. My memory of them is like that of a dream. Indistinct, erratic, incomplete. Vague images or sand and water.’
The boy stared out again at the city with Yan’s mention of water. ‘So that’s what I have to look forward to? Excruciating pain then a dream of the goddesses?’
Yan gave another slow nod in reply. ‘Is that motivation enough to continue to live?’
‘I’m not ready to meet the goddesses yet,’ the boy agreed, then sighed heavily. ‘This drought… When will the river start flowing again? Can Lin win?’
‘No. Aeia will always win. Everyone dies. It is only by Aeia’s grace that she allows Lin to give us a few decades of life.’
The boy slanted him a look, growing slowly more confident. ‘You won, though.’
The fallen king slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know how I am still here, but I’m not alive.’ He looked down at his rough hands, thumbing over the base of his index finger, pale since it usually had his yrae ring wrapped around it. He reached out with one hand and gripped the boy’s wrist. He wasn’t rough, but the boy flinched back momentarily before he shrugged.
‘Plenty of people have cold fingers.’ There was little conviction in his voice.
Yan lifted the boy’s hand and rested it flat over his stone-still heart. His eyes still blankly watched the city.
The boy gasped, realising what Yan had been demonstrating, and snatched his hand back. He gripped his wrist with his other hand and shook it violently, suddenly panicked and gasping for breath.
Yan didn’t need to explain anything to him this time. He would just know, the same as Yan had when he’d first been brought back.
The boy slowly calmed down, though he still held his hand out, hanging limply over his knees as his other hand pulled it away from his body as far as his arm would allow. ‘This is death?’ he asked quietly.
Yan remained silent, not making a movement to confirm or deny the boy’s question. It wasn’t the kind of question that really wanted a response.
‘You feel like this all the time?’ the boy pressed.
Worse. Thirst that could not be quenched. Hunger that could not be slaked. Breathlessness however many breaths he took. And then the fatigue that was still such a primal fear, even a full millennium on. He could never sleep, never. If he slept, he wouldn’t awaken. How could he? If his mind couldn’t tell him when he’d eaten or drank enough, how could it tell him he’d slept enough?
He closed his eyes, a slight furrow in his brow before he snapped them open again and flicked them up to the sky. He needed to get up there, right now. That kind of freedom was the only thing that could make him forget everything.
‘Where are you going?’ the boy asked as Yan slid to his feet.
‘Flying.’
There was another scuffle behind him as the boy abandoned the boulder. ‘You mean you still have the yrae stone?’ Behind the outward boyish humour of his voice, there was something more mature, more adult. Caution. Wariness. Fear.
A crooked grin stretched Yan’s lips as he gave a slight nod.
‘We can’t lose!’
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ Still mine
Notes~ Talechasing challenge for 18 February 07. General Yan-ish musings. This was strangely easy to write oO Not used to him being easy to write. Usually I make him say/think/do something and he tells me nuuuuu I wouldn't do that, but this time, just worked. Am I finally getting a handle on him after four years? =0! Unlikely, but we can hope X3
Ni-Yana spread out around the Ra-Lin below, a random scattering of a child’s red building blocks in the sand. The palace, ringed with a high wall, was the only hint of organisation in the city. It was an ancient settlement now, its fallen king an ancient man.
Yan sat down on a boulder by the cliff’s edge, glancing nonchalantly down at the steep drop below. Even though he had hidden the yrae stone for the time and was flightless because of it, the sight of that deadly drop was nothing more than a view.
Footsteps scuffled through the sand behind him, kicking roughly at a rock before Yan saw it fly over the edge of the cliff, landing too far down to hear it clatter against the rocks at the cliff’s base.
‘You said they’d have water.’ The voice was parched and raspy, but the young man’s tone kept the words strong.
‘They do.’ Yan gestured to the slow, lazy curve of the Ra-Lin.
‘That’s not a river.’ The weak footsteps scuffled up beside Yan, kicking another pebble over the edge of the cliff. ‘That is a strategically placed line of puddles.’
‘Call it what you will,’ Yan murmured. ‘It is still water, and it is the only fresh water that remains in the kingdom.’
The boy rested his rear on the boulder beside him, arms folded as he watched the child’s building blocks of Ni-Yana.
‘We can’t fight them,’ the boy predicted with a shake of his head.
‘We can, because we have no other choice.’
‘But we can’t win.’
Yan made no reply. He knew that these people’s only hope was that most of the city had been evacuated, moving downstream to the sea or upstream to the well-watered mountains of Kazin. But it was the first time in Yan’s memory that a drought had been so bad that it had stopped the Ra-Lin flowing. The Raykinians didn’t know how to handle it. They prayed to Lin to send them rain, to Aeia to set her sister free, just for one day, so she could make it rain and let them live.
The people of Ni-Yana lived in desperate hope, knowing the river would begin to flow again, because they knew nothing else. Even for Yan, the sight of the kingdom’s life source reduced to puddles no more than knee-depth filled him with dread. He’d been around for a thousand years now, and in all that time, the Ra-Lin had been the only constant. Raykin had faced droughts before, certainly, but the very life of the great river had never been threatened before.
‘What’s death like?’
Yan raised his eyebrows and glanced over at the boy’s gaunt face, so strong and determined with the weight of his question.
The boy’s eyes flicked pointedly to the scar on the left of Yan’s face, the fear now apparent in his dark eyes. Something made him think that accusing Yan of his own identity was a dangerous thing.
The fallen king grinned wryly and tuned his gaze back on what was once his city. ‘Which part?’
‘All of it.’ The boy shrugged, still nervous. As well he might be, Yan mused.
‘Have you ever been cut by a sword in battle?’ he asked.
‘A spear, yes.’ The boy turned his head to one side, displaying a dangerous-looking scar on his neck. ‘This was the worst.’
Yan nodded. ‘Only skin deep. I could feel the blade cutting through bone and into my mind.’ He didn’t look over as the boy fidgeted beside him. ‘But still only skin deep. The true agony of the very life being torn from my body…’ He broke off and shook his head with a sigh. His voice darkened with memory when he next spoke. ‘It was like everything inside me was being slashed out with rusty fish hooks. I was burning hot and frozen stiff from cold at the same instant. My chest, especially… There are no words from any human tongue that can be put to that torture. I don’t wish it on anyone.’
The boy was silent for a time, perhaps trying to imagine what Yan had done his best to describe with such a poor Raykinian vocabulary. Perhaps it could only be described by the blood-curdling scream of agony he’d wanted to let out at the time.
‘But…’ The boy drifted off, afraid to ask his next question. Afraid of what the answer might be, or afraid of angering the fallen king? ‘But after that… did you… are…?’
Yan nodded slowly, feeling a faint smile stretch his lips. ‘I met the goddesses, though I cannot say how. My memory of them is like that of a dream. Indistinct, erratic, incomplete. Vague images or sand and water.’
The boy stared out again at the city with Yan’s mention of water. ‘So that’s what I have to look forward to? Excruciating pain then a dream of the goddesses?’
Yan gave another slow nod in reply. ‘Is that motivation enough to continue to live?’
‘I’m not ready to meet the goddesses yet,’ the boy agreed, then sighed heavily. ‘This drought… When will the river start flowing again? Can Lin win?’
‘No. Aeia will always win. Everyone dies. It is only by Aeia’s grace that she allows Lin to give us a few decades of life.’
The boy slanted him a look, growing slowly more confident. ‘You won, though.’
The fallen king slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know how I am still here, but I’m not alive.’ He looked down at his rough hands, thumbing over the base of his index finger, pale since it usually had his yrae ring wrapped around it. He reached out with one hand and gripped the boy’s wrist. He wasn’t rough, but the boy flinched back momentarily before he shrugged.
‘Plenty of people have cold fingers.’ There was little conviction in his voice.
Yan lifted the boy’s hand and rested it flat over his stone-still heart. His eyes still blankly watched the city.
The boy gasped, realising what Yan had been demonstrating, and snatched his hand back. He gripped his wrist with his other hand and shook it violently, suddenly panicked and gasping for breath.
Yan didn’t need to explain anything to him this time. He would just know, the same as Yan had when he’d first been brought back.
The boy slowly calmed down, though he still held his hand out, hanging limply over his knees as his other hand pulled it away from his body as far as his arm would allow. ‘This is death?’ he asked quietly.
Yan remained silent, not making a movement to confirm or deny the boy’s question. It wasn’t the kind of question that really wanted a response.
‘You feel like this all the time?’ the boy pressed.
Worse. Thirst that could not be quenched. Hunger that could not be slaked. Breathlessness however many breaths he took. And then the fatigue that was still such a primal fear, even a full millennium on. He could never sleep, never. If he slept, he wouldn’t awaken. How could he? If his mind couldn’t tell him when he’d eaten or drank enough, how could it tell him he’d slept enough?
He closed his eyes, a slight furrow in his brow before he snapped them open again and flicked them up to the sky. He needed to get up there, right now. That kind of freedom was the only thing that could make him forget everything.
‘Where are you going?’ the boy asked as Yan slid to his feet.
‘Flying.’
There was another scuffle behind him as the boy abandoned the boulder. ‘You mean you still have the yrae stone?’ Behind the outward boyish humour of his voice, there was something more mature, more adult. Caution. Wariness. Fear.
A crooked grin stretched Yan’s lips as he gave a slight nod.
‘We can’t lose!’
no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 06:01 am (UTC)I like Yan actually. Well, in this anyway. I like how you can read the story in various ways. 'tisn't stated outright who they want to fight, so the imagination gets to decide that. And, from what I've read about Yan, this might be the nicest introduction. *shrugs helplessly* But I could be scrambling things up in my brain.
In any case, I like this. I generally like pieces that leave the reader to figure things out for themselves. None of that 'oh, the reader knows nothing about this, so I'll explain' in here. Deliciously wonderful. ^-^
Very, very nicely done all round really. I like the balance between emotions and Yan's near-lack of them. (And that's all the help I'll be, sorry! ^-^;)
no subject
Date: 2007-04-20 06:46 am (UTC)Yan is a tricksy, contradictory, manipulative, evil old man. Even with my god-knowledge I don't fully know where his loyalties lie. I just know for certain they're with his family, which is now the desert people, but beyond that, dunno really how he feels about the rest of Raykin or even the other kingdoms.
He was a tyrant when he ruled, tho he keeps telling me there have been far worse since, and he's had a bit of time on the throne since as well when he was a perfectly nice and just ruler.
He is DAMN fun to write tho, when I can get him down XD Just the way his mind works, so much fun X3