15min fic #135
Jan. 12th, 2006 02:01 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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yrae
Title~ Fear
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All~ mine
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 135. Just before crossing the border into Kazin on a mission. Haenel's the new recruit, so this is his first mission. Ooh, scary.
~ ~ ~
Haenel stared silently at the campfire’s flames, at the eerie shadows they cast over the fourteen other faces that surrounded it. Even though they were still in Raykin, with a warm, early Autumn breeze on his back and the heat of the fire in front of him, the sight sent a shiver up his spine. He’d been led to believe that the riders of the Own were fearless, and over the past month that it had taken to get here from Ni-Yana, his previous ideas had only been confirmed.
He’d talked to Ulkar a week or so ago, confiding to the eternal optimist that he was absolutely petrified of crossing the border. Ulkar had told him not to worry, that they all got scared the closer they got to Kazin, but Haenel had had a hard time believing him. They always just seemed so relaxed, so confident.
Tonight though, it was obvious. Even the blade archers, who had specifically targeted Haenel with their antics over the weeks through the desert, were respectfully silent as they watched the campfire.
Haenel didn’t know what frightened him more: the thought of the Kazinian border and the mission ahead, or the fact that the fourteen best warriors in the kingdom were scared of the same thing.
He cast his eyes carefully over their faces, seeing much the same mix of determination and fear in all of them. Rumal’s eyes were closed and his face completely blank. He was the veteran of the Own; he’d been on plenty of missions and obviously had his own way of preparing for them that he’d perfected over the years.
Emon predictably showed the most fear of all, but he’d always been the least confident Own rider. Normally this was a source of amusement for the rest of the guys, Haenel included, but tonight his pessimism seemed all too justified.
The General was fingering the yrae stone in her bangle as she watched the flickering flames, and had the light been steadier, Haenel thought he might almost be able to read her thoughts, her glare was that intense. He couldn’t help but wonder how much her magic came into a mission, how much the Own had come to rely on it.
Looking at Kurae, he realised that it was probably the only time when his mask of indifference was lifted. He never seemed to take much of an interest in anything except his cooking and his training, and even then he remained stony-faced as ever. Now, the mask had been removed, if momentarily, and the fear was clear on his face.
Melraan… was looking curiously bored. Did he really place that much confidence in his abilities? The swordsman shifted slightly, rested his temple against one hand and resettled. It was just a trick of the light. His brow was in the same crease of anxious determination as everyone else’s.
Ulkar, though, was the strangest to look at. Haenel could see his thoughts clearly as he gently nodded his head to each one; I’m not going to die, I’m going to live this out, we’re coming back alive. Ever the optimist, but there was still the underlying notion that, even in his own thoughts, he felt like this time, he was kidding himself.
Inel was scribbling in that journal-diary thing Gylepi had suggested they all do this mission. He paused momentarily, looking into the flames as he thought of what to write next. His gaze lifted slightly, catching Haenel’s eye from the other side. He raised his eyebrows: You want to talk?
Haenel nodded, knowing that once he started, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All~ mine
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 135. Just before crossing the border into Kazin on a mission. Haenel's the new recruit, so this is his first mission. Ooh, scary.
Haenel stared silently at the campfire’s flames, at the eerie shadows they cast over the fourteen other faces that surrounded it. Even though they were still in Raykin, with a warm, early Autumn breeze on his back and the heat of the fire in front of him, the sight sent a shiver up his spine. He’d been led to believe that the riders of the Own were fearless, and over the past month that it had taken to get here from Ni-Yana, his previous ideas had only been confirmed.
He’d talked to Ulkar a week or so ago, confiding to the eternal optimist that he was absolutely petrified of crossing the border. Ulkar had told him not to worry, that they all got scared the closer they got to Kazin, but Haenel had had a hard time believing him. They always just seemed so relaxed, so confident.
Tonight though, it was obvious. Even the blade archers, who had specifically targeted Haenel with their antics over the weeks through the desert, were respectfully silent as they watched the campfire.
Haenel didn’t know what frightened him more: the thought of the Kazinian border and the mission ahead, or the fact that the fourteen best warriors in the kingdom were scared of the same thing.
He cast his eyes carefully over their faces, seeing much the same mix of determination and fear in all of them. Rumal’s eyes were closed and his face completely blank. He was the veteran of the Own; he’d been on plenty of missions and obviously had his own way of preparing for them that he’d perfected over the years.
Emon predictably showed the most fear of all, but he’d always been the least confident Own rider. Normally this was a source of amusement for the rest of the guys, Haenel included, but tonight his pessimism seemed all too justified.
The General was fingering the yrae stone in her bangle as she watched the flickering flames, and had the light been steadier, Haenel thought he might almost be able to read her thoughts, her glare was that intense. He couldn’t help but wonder how much her magic came into a mission, how much the Own had come to rely on it.
Looking at Kurae, he realised that it was probably the only time when his mask of indifference was lifted. He never seemed to take much of an interest in anything except his cooking and his training, and even then he remained stony-faced as ever. Now, the mask had been removed, if momentarily, and the fear was clear on his face.
Melraan… was looking curiously bored. Did he really place that much confidence in his abilities? The swordsman shifted slightly, rested his temple against one hand and resettled. It was just a trick of the light. His brow was in the same crease of anxious determination as everyone else’s.
Ulkar, though, was the strangest to look at. Haenel could see his thoughts clearly as he gently nodded his head to each one; I’m not going to die, I’m going to live this out, we’re coming back alive. Ever the optimist, but there was still the underlying notion that, even in his own thoughts, he felt like this time, he was kidding himself.
Inel was scribbling in that journal-diary thing Gylepi had suggested they all do this mission. He paused momentarily, looking into the flames as he thought of what to write next. His gaze lifted slightly, catching Haenel’s eye from the other side. He raised his eyebrows: You want to talk?
Haenel nodded, knowing that once he started, he probably wouldn’t be able to stop.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-11 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-11 07:45 am (UTC)