| Out of Otherways: Tortall |
[30 May 2005|06:32pm] |
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It's some time after dusk, and Alex has only just managed to finish his meeting for the day. He leaves Duke Gareth's office and heads back to his own chambers.
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| Otherways: In Tortall |
[23 May 2005|06:45pm] |
They emerge in a copse of trees just off the road, far enough that anyone watching would think they just came out of the trees as opposed to appearing out of nowhere.
There is a farmstead not terribly far off, and some sheep grazing in a field. It's mid-morning by the sun's position.
Alex recognises this part of Tortall; they're about half a day's ride out of Corus.
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| Otherways |
[12 May 2005|06:59pm] |
He has to go back.
Caught in limbo
That's all that's in his mind as he returns to their room, numbly placing the book back on the shelf and sinking into one of the chairs, drawing a knee up and wrapping his arms around it, staring blankly into space.
driven by the bloodbeat
He has to go back.
Beaten by the stick as standards fall
He's known that since Gwen healed him, since he woke up here instead of the Black God's realm. He's known that he'll have to go back eventually.
How low can you go
This is the first time he's thought honestly about what that will entail.
bending backward
Going back will eventually mean going back to the frontlines, going back to the war. Alex has never been afraid of fighting or injury, but now he finds he's very much afraid of death. Despite knowing that he might very well come back here, despite knowing that Parry isn't likely to give him up that easily, he's afraid of death. He remembers, all the time, the brief moments he spent in the Black God's realm and the sureness that that brief moment, those few seconds when everything just stopped, is all he has of the Black God's realm. That no man can go there twice, and that after death, all he will have is... nothing.
before you break?
Alex is very afraid of nothing right now.
Caught in limbo between action and depression
He has to go back.
closed roads, dead ends, unviable options
And a part of him knows that the dreams he's dreamed, the dreams of Tortall with harsh-voiced men and barking dogs and the howl of a wolf...
Purgatory's harsh to visit
Part of him knows that they aren't memory of the hunts his father loved.
hard to leave
Just as part of him knows that he could never have stayed here forever.
and a hell of a place to stay
Milliways is a limbo for him, has been since the day (night?) Gwen pulled him back from the Black God's realm, broke the wall between living and dead and defied the universe to stop him. Tortall is the world he lived in, the Black God's realm is the realm of the dead; he's been afraid to open the door since that day, afraid to find out which world he'll be called into.
Even in limbo nothing stands still
It looks as though the luxury of choice was an illusion.
Climbing a scree slope, to stop is to slip
Alex curls up in the armchair, staring into nothingness, rocking back and forth mindlessly, green eyes watching something that is not there.
treading water, rest and drown
The dreams... they disturb him. There have been dreamers in Tortall, Gifted mages whose Gift was farsight, the ability to read what was to come in the future from their dreams, or who could see the past while sleeping.
please God
All those mages had the Gift.
catch me
One had goes to the slender gold chain around his neck, the chain that won't come off anymore, and he touches the amulet through his shirt, beside it the malleable shape of the feather, curled in on itself like a ring.
caught in limbo
What will they see, the Gifted ones, when he returns to Tortall? What will Gwen's mark upon him manifest itself as when he returns to the place of his birth? Only once in Tortall's history had man cheated death, and there is no Denmarie the Earthshaker to excuse the fact that the sword through him should have killed him. Did kill him.
may the purge be swift
Tortallans would rather lock him up as a madman than believe that a place like Milliways existed, that a sorcerer of Gwen's power existed.
and purgatory pass
He has to go back.
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| Otherways |
[03 May 2005|03:23pm] |
He feels like hell.
He also really doesn't want to wake up right now. Unfortunately, his body seems to have a different opinion.
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| Otherways |
[30 Mar 2005|10:14pm] |
Alex is in his room upstairs.
He's been here a while.
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| Otherways: The Battle |
[13 Mar 2005|05:42pm] |
They engage early in the afternoon. A bad time for fighting, perhaps, with the light dying early at this point in the winter, but the Tusaines don't seem to care, and the Tortallans can't afford to let them gain ground under cover of darkness. The cavalry mount up, mostly knights and those few commoners who can ride and weild a weapon at the same time, and ride out.
It's four hours after noon, give or take, when Alex takes his first wound, a slash to his right leg from an enemy cavalryman. Gary, riding nearby, lops the Tusaine's head off and helps Alex roughly bandage the wound.
"You'll be okay to keep going?"
"I'm fine. It's not too bad."
Perhaps another two hours after that and the light is failing fast, making it hard to see surely. By this time Alex's horse has been killed, an all too common thing in cavalry warfare, and he's afoot, knives thrust through his belt and sword in hand. He's tired, bruised and sore, but alive. More than can be said for too many of his comrades, friends he's seen cut down by Tusaine warriors.
The slash to his thigh is bleeding again, broken open by the effort of fighting afoot in full plate mail. He's taken other cuts, one to his side where the breastplate and backplate meet and one to his throat, a shallow scrape that came far too close to slicing open his jugular.
The man he faces now is a behemoth of a Tusaine, a good foot taller than Alex and heavier, clad in rusted chainmail and weilding a sword with some skill, although not the level of skill expected of the knights of Tortall. Alex uses his smaller size and greater speed as much as he can, dodging out of the way of the other man's sword whilst darting in to slash at him; wounds are exchanged, minor irritants, nothing fatal. Alex can feel the blood running from the wound in his thigh, running into his boot and making his footing unsteady. The cuts on his throat and side are bleeding as well, neither bad enough to be fatal, but both distracting. The sting of sweat in open wounds is a tiny pain compared to the wounds he's taken, but one that distracts him.
The Tusaine lunges, strikes high and hard. Alex brings his mailed up desperately to block the blow that's too high for his sword to reach, taking the brunt of the man's blow on his forearm. A cracking sound and he knows the bone has been fractured. It's his off-hand, so it's not as bad as it could be, but it hurts, and it throws off his balance. The Tusaine roars and lunges again, and Alex moves too slowly, the hilt of the man's sword striking hard against his cheek. He falls back, blinking and shaking his head to clear it, and doesn't move in time. The Tusaine brings his sword-hilt down on Alex's sword-hand, shattering the bones. Alex screams, and the Tusaine reverses the sword, driving down hard and fast where the breastplate doesn't quite cover his lower abdomen, impaling the Tortallan knight.
The Tusaine releases his sword and pulls a dagger, and Alex closes his eyes, preparing for the final strike. The wounds he's taken already are enough to kill him, given time, but obviously the Tusaine wants to be sure. There's a strangled cry and sudden weight across his legs, and Alex opens his eyes, biting his lip against the pain. The Tusaine is limp across his legs, a black-fletched arrow sticking out of his back. Alex has to bite back a harsh chuckle at the irony; the Tusaines use black-fletched arrows. Struck down by his own allies.
He drags himself out from under the dead man, unable to keep back cries of pain as the movement jarrs his injuries. One hand is held tight around the sword still sticking out of his stomach; he can't afford to lose much more blood, and keeping the blade in him hurts, but it prevents the wound from bleeding too much.
He's seen injuries like this before. Usually the men died, of shock or blood loss or infection. He can only think of one place he might go and survive.
If he can get there.
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| Otherways |
[12 Mar 2005|09:47pm] |
Alex is asleep, Alanna curled up next to him.
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In his dream, his room is empty, quiet, dark. The only light comes from the black taper burning in the shrine. Alex kneels before the shrine, holding a pearlescent grey feather, and prays.
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| Otherways Plot |
[12 Mar 2005|01:59pm] |
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mood |
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 cynical |
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He's in Corus, in the rooms they put aside for him at the palace. His armour is in packs by the door; he spent the better part of the afternoon going over it, checking for weaknesses and polishing and making sure it's in good shape. It's been a long time since he had cause to wear full plate mail.
Spare clothing, a brace of knives, an unstrung bow and quiver of arrows are also packed. His broadsword is in its stand, next to the rapier that will remain here; you don't fight a war with duelling weapons.
They leave tomorrow.
Alex, barefoot and clad in simple black trousers and white linen shirt instead of full Court formal clothing, pads over to the small shrine that he keeps in the corner of the room. A new addition, one he put in after Thom's Ordeal. He kneels before it, lights a slender black taper, and begins to pray.
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