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Tags: writing nanowrimo the girl from farther afield fives 89
Published : 4 weeks, 1 day ago (Sun, 08 Nov 2009 14:13:32 PST)
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This scene took its sweet time. It has some highlights, some low lights, but it does at least finally introduce Rhiadna. (Also a couple of cameos that the astute reader might spot.)
I feel it might just have overstayed its welcome.
The Girl From Farther Afield
Chapter One, Part Three
The sun was directly overhead when Eton arrived at the shores of the Copperleaf Lake.
It had taken perhaps ten minutes by his estimation for the landscape around him to fade into being, blurred shapes and colours followed by stronger outlines and fine detail in a manner that reminded him of one's eyes adjusting to the dark. It was an unusual quirk of the Winstanley Park border, he'd noticed. Most of the things just moved you from the Empire through some bizarre hybrid of the two places before dumping you firmly into Foreign Parts, which was a surreal experience though not a jarring one. The Winstanley Park border, he suspected, just flung one straight into the dark depths of Foreign Parts, and he had a feeling that the human mind just couldn't handle the transition all in one go.
He had often wondered in the past just what the point of the Winstanley Park border was. He could see the convenience in being able to travel from one location in the Empire to anywhere in a wide area in the Foreign Parts, but as best he had been able to work out, the border went in one direction only. It took the fae a great deal of effort to make their way over into the Empire, and whenever they did actually manage it, getting back home again was very rarely the first thing on their mind. Still, he assumed that at some point some enterprising fae must have bound those... whatever-they-weres... to that border and set them the charge of ferrying hapless men and women across when they were least expecting it, and they presumably must have had some reason for it. He supposed that Winstanley Park must have been an example of what passed for science over on the far side of the borders.
When his mind had finished adjusting to the new world, he had found himself on a dusty path running through the centre of a dense forest. There were an awful lot of forests and general woodlands in Foreign Parts, Eton had observed over the years, though they all tended to have unique quirks to distinguish them from the others and keep the casual visitor from getting too bored. The trees in this particular one, for example, smelled strongly of pears, despite bearing no visible fruit, and seemed to be made of some kind of pink crystal. Curiously he tried flicking a fingernail against a nearby branch, which vibrated gently and said, "ting," in a sort of sonorous low baritone. Eton had to admit that he hadn't quite expected that.
The ground underfoot was faintly translucent, and if he peered closely Eton found he could see perhaps a couple of feet down into it before visibility faded completely. The tree roots were also pink, he observed, and he caught sight of a small party of worms, describing an intricate dance with one another perhaps six inches below the surface. It was sufficiently disconcerting to make him opt to stay on the path wherever he could, despite the fact that that seemed to undulate gently underfoot, buckling underfoot and then springing back up as he moved on.
The sky overhead was a cold winter blue, cloudless with an oversized, deep red sun bang in its centre. Eton observed curiously that snow seemed to be falling from somewhere, and it was only when he noticed that he could see it settling in the middle distance in all directions that he realised that it was the sun overhead that was sheltering him from the snowfall.
For once, nothing waylaid him on the path as he ambled unhurriedly through the forest. Normally one would find some kind of local flora or fauna took an interest in one's arrival and decided to make itself a nuisance, but this time the place was eerily quiet and his trip was wholly without incident. He was mildly disappointed by that.
He guessed that he must have walked through the forest for perhaps half an hour before path, and forest, ended abruptly at the lake's shores, and he almost walked straight out onto its surface without realising.
The Copperleaf Lake stretched out ahead of him and to either side, a vast bronze expanse undulating gently with the breeze. The shores were mundane enough, covered in grass that shockingly both looked and behaved like grass ought, but the... 'water' was opaque and thick, and the sky above was orange from horizon to horizon, unbroken by any sun or cloud. The only splash of colour was at the very centre of the lake, a few hundred yards distant, where he could see another forest had grown up, lush and verdant.
As Eton watched, a small fish leaped out of the waters in front of him, landed back on the surface with a loud thud, and skidded to an untidy halt before gradually sinking back out of sight again, its skin melding with the surface as if they were part of the same entity.
"Hah!" The laugh escaped his lips as he surveyed the scene. He'd known the Vagrant Hold to show up in a variety of ridiculous places - six feet underground, half way up a sheer cliff, on top of another lord's castle - but in the middle of a lake possibly topped even those. Honestly, sometimes he felt the woman didn't want visitors.
He knelt down by the lake's shore, opened up his pack, and took out one mango and his water flask, whereupon he promptly folded the rest up again. Curiously, he uncorked the flask and allowed a few thumbs' worth of water to dribbled out onto the lake's surface, sealed the flask again, and took a bite out of the mango. The water ran in narrow rivulets across the lake's surface, pooling whenever the ripples allowed it to do so. He watched it curiously for a while, but even after a minute or so there seemed to be the same amount on the surface as there had been to start with. That was a good sign, he supposed.
Gingerly he extended one leg and lowered his foot onto the lake's surface. It seemed to take his weight, even when he pushed down firmly, so he took a deep breath and stepped confidently out.
Nothing much amiss happened, which was good. He found himself standing on the lake, its surface rippling gently under his feet. A couple of waves passed underneath him, and he found himself raised and lowered by the swell.
It was a most bizarre sensation.
Resolutely, he set off towards the lake's centre, satisfied that he was probably safe now. For all the strangeness to be found within Foreign Parts, the place generally did not change its mind about what it wanted to be with any real frequency. If it thought that he could stand on the lake now, then it was likely that he would continue to be able to stand on the lake, at least this time. There was no telling what it would be like the next time he came back, of course, but such was the nature of the land. The explorer part of Eton quite appreciated that. You could visit the same place half a dozen times and still be surprised by what you found there each time.
As he approached the outer edge of the forest, the light changed. This wasn't entirely surprising; places in Foreign Parts had minds of their own and were not such pushovers as to allow the sun or the sky or anything to ruin the atmosphere they set out to create. Nevertheless, it was rarely quite so obvious; Eton found that he could stare at the sky as he walked and see it changing from bronze to a pleasing sea-green shade. On a whim he stopped and walked backwards a few paces, and watched the sky shift back again. There was some kind of art form to be found in this, he mused, though admittedly not a particularly interesting one.
The air changed as well, becoming heavier, more humid. Faint birdsong filled the air, and Eton fancied he vaguely recognised the tune. The smell of cut wood became more and more distinct, until by the time he reached the edge of the forest, he could have closed his eyes and his every sense would have sworn that he must have been standing right in its centre, with nothing but woodland for miles.
He was mildly amused to see that the trees seemed to have had a certain difficulty rooting themselves on the thick, apparently impenetrable surface of the lake. Their roots were splayed wildly in all directions, tangled around one another and forming a solid net perhaps twelve inches deep in places. One or two of the outer ones seemed not to have been sufficiently prepared and had toppled over. He paused for a moment and watched their branches move, writhing in slow motion as they tried instinctively to right themselves.
Eton planted one foot on top of the mass of roots, reassured himself that they could take his weight, and stepped onto the grounds of the Vagrant Hold.
It felt almost like he was coming home.
He caught his first sign of life - well, of animal life rather than plant life, though the boundaries were often blurred around here - not thirty seconds into the forest. He wasn't entirely sure precisely how he picked up on its presence - possibly just experience having honed his senses, he supposed - but he became aware that there was something floating above him. As he moved, it moved with him, just... watching.
He stopped dead and stared upwards. His eyes told him that there was nothing there, but this once he was disinclined to believe them.
Curiosity.
The thought filled his mind, not in words but just as a raw concept, a genuinely primal form of communication. Eton grinned widely.
"Hello, girl," he said to the empty air. "Doing any better?"
Surprise. Something stirred in the air above him; he saw a falling leaf twist and turn as if buffeted by a gentle breeze. Suspicion. Recognition?
Eton's face fell. "That'll be a, 'no,' then. Well... some day, girl, some day." He resumed his pace, and felt rather than saw the presence start following him again. "Good to see you out and about, though. Shall I walk you home?"
Home.
"Sounds like a, 'yes.'" He smiled sadly. "Name's Eton Fives, by the way. You might have heard of me."
Knowledge. Memory. A pause, and the sensations in his head died away for a moment. Indistinct. Distant. Sadness.
Eton closed his eyes tight for a moment. "Don't worry. It'll come."
"Hold! Hold, I say!"
The voice came from somewhere ahead, firm and commanding. Eton slowed his pace and peered in front of him, but saw nothing. "Hold what?"
"Yourself, Englishman! You're a stranger in..." The voice trailed off. "Oh. It's you, isn't it?"
"Damn straight," said Eton proudly. "Never been anyone else. Where the blazes are you, anyway?"
"Very funny. Down here."
Eton lowered his gaze... and saw, on the ground before him, a large black rabbit. Had he continued walking, he would probably have trodden on the thing after a couple of paces... assuming it hadn't moved, of course. Eton knew for a fact that it could move like lightning when it wanted to.
"Ah, yes." He beamed and executed a dramatic bow. "Fancy seeing you here."
"How droll." The rabbit stuck out its tongue at him. Rabbits' tongues are rather small and pink and so the effect was more ridiculous than anything else. "What do you want this time?"
"Just come for a chat," Eton said, straightening up. "Scout's honour."
"After last time? You think she'll..." The rabbit sighed and shook its head resignedly. "Ah, screw it. She'll be all too pleased to see you again, won't she?"
"Damn well hope so," said Eton with fervour. "Wouldn't be worth the trip if she weren't."
"We live in hope." The rabbit hopped ominously towards him. Politely, Eton held still while it scrambled up his trouser leg and jacket and settled itself on his shoulder. "Well, get moving, then."
"Tagging along?" Eton enquired, setting off again. "Never knew you thought so much of my company."
"What I think of your company, sir, could be counted on the..." The rabbit paused, realising it had lost its way somewhere in that sentence. "Look, I just don't want someone jumping you the moment they see you. And without me, they will, trust me. And the Lady would have my hide if that happened. Literally."
"Nice of you to care."
"Yeah, well, I'm a caring sort of rabbit, I am." The animal was quiet for a moment, then finally relented. "And let's be honest, the place would be a bit less interesting if you didn't keep popping in."
Eton reached up with one hand and ruffled its fur absently. "Missed you too."
"Oh, shut up."
A hundred yards or so further into the forest the trees ended abruptly, forming a border to a large, perfectly circular clearing... sufficiently large, in fact, that he was pretty sure that there shouldn't have been enough room inside the forest for it at all. The ground was grassy - which surprised Eton slightly given the Hold's current location on top of a lake - with small patches of flowering plants every few yards sprouting through the swirling, blueish knee-deep mists. Overhead, the tree canopy continued... somehow... with the sky barely visible through the odd break in the leaves. The area was suffused with a dim, slightly greenish twilight.
A number of buildings were scattered erratically throughout the hold, in a ludicrously wide variety of architectural styles; Eton spotted a couple of mansions that would not have been out of place back home in London, something that could well have been one of those old Greek temples in its heyday, a bizarre wood-and-canvas structure that reminded him of the traditional construction he'd seen in the Orient... and in the centre of the clearing, stone walls surrounded a great medieval castle, a dozen floors tall or possibly more. It was as if the Hold had, on its travels, seen fit to borrow buildings here and there according to the transient whims of its occupants. The curious assortment of styles had always put Eton in mind of a gypsy camp, for some reason, though he'd never voiced the observation to anyone.
More jarring than the styles, though, were the scales. A cursory glance at the scene would be enough for anyone to realise that there was something subtly wrong with it, but a few moments' inspection would generally reveal that the buildings were all the wrong sizes. A single floor wooden hut might stand next to a great windmill and appear taller than it, and the brain would then promptly try to decipher this apparent anomaly and conclude that it must be because the hut was closer... despite the fact that one could watch the sails of the mill obscuring the hut from time to time. Men and women walked between the buildings, and always somehow appeared in proportion with them by the time they arrived there.
The fae of Vagrant Hold came from a wide variety of castes, but all shared the same sense of pride and confidence in their place in the world that the Lady Rhiadna worked so hard to instil in them. They dressed well - putting even the English to shame, Eton had to admit - and they spoke politely and with decorum to one another when in public, and though they tended to view many of the other fae with a sort of pitying disdain, they never held their heritage against them; it was, after all, not their fault that they had the misfortune not to belong to the Hold. Eton had a personal suspicion that Rhiadna had borrowed that attitude from the Empire itself.
They were all, without exception, inhumanly beautiful, and Eton had never quite grown used to this even in all the time he spent in the Foreign Parts. A man less comfortable with himself might have been made to feel self-conscious at the sight, but Eton was perfectly at ease with his meagre good looks and just enjoyed admiring the fae as one might a great work of art. They were tall, most of the men a good few inches taller than him and the women standing equal with him, and their hair was almost invariably long and flowing. Their clothing was extravagant, with each one clearly wearing whatever they had thought would most please them that day. Long, multi-layered dresses and frock coats seemed to be well represented on this particular occasion, though Eton caught sight of one woman who appeared to be wearing nothing beyond a short gown comprised entirely of falling rain, and he observed one man whose outfit seemed to be a literally perfect imitation of Eton's own.
Eton sometimes wondered whether the fae viewed humanity with a sort of morbid fascination, and whether they asked themselves how creatures could be quite so ugly and not fall inexorably into self-loathing.
"You!" One of the men, dressed from head to foot in pure white, had spotted him and came striding imperiously over. Even for a fae he was tall, standing a good foot above Eton. "You came back?"
Eton grinned cheerfully up at him. "Ah. Afternoon again, old chap. How's the arm?"
"Well enough." The fae bared his teeth in a smile. "Why, I should -"
"No, you shouldn't," said the rabbit firmly. "The human's off limits."
"And why is that?"
"Common sense. He may be a prat, but he's our prat." The rabbit waved an ear dismissively. "Go on, shoo. Let the Lady deal with him. Where is she, anyway?"
The fae waved a hand over towards one of the temple structures to their left. "She's in the gardens. I doubt she would want to be disturbed by him."
"See, that's why you're just some guy, and I'm her Herald."
At the animal's direction, Eton wandered over towards the temple. Stone pillars flanked the main entrance; he noticed with some amusement that they had been carved into approximate representations of tower clocks, for some reason. According to the hands at the top of each, it was about half past twelve, which seemed almost suspiciously close to the truth.
"Be nice, now," the rabbit said as he set one foot on the steps, bounding down off his shoulder to land a couple of paces in front of him. "Try to be civil this time. Took me days to clean up after last time."
"Will do my utmost," Eton said. "Not coming in to announce me?"
"Hardly. I'm sure you can do that on your own." The animals turned and began hopping off. "Me, I'm going to go and get people in position for when you're done in there. Just in case."
"Just in case," agreed Eton.
The interior of the building was... verdant, to put it mildly. It felt as though Eton were stepping into a rainforest; the vast interior (again, as seemed to be all too commonplace, the inside of the building seemed larger than the outside) was lined with trees, with no two specimens seeming alike. Stepped plateaux led down from the outer walls to a narrow winding walkway that led from the entrance to a small open space towards the rear, and with the exception of this path every available surface was covered in plants in every colour imaginable, plus a few Eton had never seen before and found he could not even describe. Holes in the ceiling let in the daylight in clearly visible shafts, and every leaf, every flower moved back and forth in a gentle breeze that blew alternately from and towards the main entrance like a tide. The sussurrus of moving foliage filled the air, drowning out even Eton's footsteps as he walked unhurriedly into the gardens.
Halfway down the path, a fae woman was crouched down with her back to the entrance, staring fixedly at a dark purple blossom the size and shape of a gramophone horn. Eton stopped a half dozen yards from her and cleared his throat loudly.
Without turning she rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing her skirts gently with both hands. Only when this was done did she turn, her expression perfectly serene and calm... until she caught sight of Eton's careless grin, which brought a wry, amused smile to her full lips. "My word. He's come back." Her smile grew wider, more open. "Hello, Eton."
Even among fae, the Lady Rhiadna was genuinely, stunningly beautiful. She was maybe a couple of inches shorter than Eton, with hair so dark it seemed to draw the light out of her surroundings and outline her face and shoulders in black. Her body was shapely - distractingly, fantastically so, as Eton had noted on many an occasion - and when she moved it was with an ethereal grace that made her seem ghostly, as if the world simply parted willingly around her rather than be so crass as to get in her way. Her usual attire was formal but with a certain carefree attitude towards modesty; on this particular occasion, her shoulders were bare, her neckline just sufficiently low to hint at what lay below it, and - Eton blinked in surprise, realising - the dress itself seemed to be made of a multitude of vines and tiny flowering plants, entwining with one another and parting again in an endless, fascinating dance. In places flowers would bloom, wither, and vanish within seconds, and as the greenery twisted and writhed it afforded momentary glimpses of her skin before the gaps closed again.
Eton Fives was not a man easily lost for words, but the first time the two of them had met it had taken him the best part of a minute before realising that he had simply been staring wordlessly at her, open-mouthed, his mind completely devoid of any thought more coherent than, "I say..." She had apparently found his subsequent stammered apologies adorable.
"Rhiadna, old girl," he said hoarsely. "Looking half decent as usual."
"And you're as flattering as ever." Rhiadna practically glided up to him, and he took her hand in his and kissed it formally. "Sometimes I wonder if you..." She trailed off and, apropos of nothing, glanced back over one shoulder. Eton raised his head, catching sight of something indistinct flickering about behind her. "Oh, hello, Ashad. I'm pleased to see you too. Are you doing all right?"
She was silent for a few seconds, her eyes unfocused. Eton found himself wishing he could see the images going through her head. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "Well, you'd better get back there. I'll come and see you later, all right?"
There was the faintest sensation of movement; Eton saw the leaves of the plants twist as though buffeted by a sudden gust, and an almost imperceptible pressure brushed past his cheek. When Rhiadna lowered her head and turned to face him again, her expression was gentle. "You've met her already, then?"
Eton nodded. "On the way in. She seems... better than before?"
"She is." Eton still hadn't thought to let go of her hand; she raised the other and laid it gently on his. "It comes and goes. I think she remembers you sometimes, at least a little. More and more, each time." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Give it time."
"Course." Eton forced a grin; the mere expression lightened his mood, he found. "A chap can wait. Still feel I've never really thanked you enough for taking the girl in."
"And you should really know you've never needed to." Rhiadna withdrew her hands and beckoned him towards the rear of the gardens. "Come, have a seat. I'm rather curious as to why you would come back here quite so soon. It's almost like you're relying on me having forgiven you. There must be a reason, yes?"
"What, is the prospect of seeing you not enough reason?" said Eton pleasantly.
She laughed. "If only. You forget just how well I know you."
"Weighs on my mind at night," Eton said, following her further into the gardens.
The path ended a few dozen yards farther on in a small open space, paved roughly with an almost mosaic-like arrangement of tiny stones. A circle of five larger raised stones had been set into the ground in an approximation of seats; it seemed odd to Eton to see fae sitting on anything other than the most grandiose, ornate chairs they could conjure up, but somehow these suited the atmosphere of the gardens better. Rhiadna settled herself down on one of the nearest two, arranging her skirts absently as she did. Eton half suspected she did that just to draw attention to her legs.
He lowered himself carefully down opposite her, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Pleasant in here."
"I try." Rhiadna gazed solemnly at him, a faintly amused smirk on her lips. "So, would you like to tell me why you're here? I haven't done anything wrong this time, have I?"
Eton shrugged. "Don't think so... actually, ignore that. Almost certainly, but I don't think we know about it yet."
She laughed. "You have such faith in me."
"Voice of experience, madam," said Eton firmly.
"All right," Rhiadna conceded. "Maybe there's some truth in that. So why?"
"Couple of things," Eton admitted. "Firstly... well, I gather you have a girl around here by the name of Liliste."
"Oh, yes." Rhiadna smiled. "She told me about you when she came home. It sounds like you have an admirer now."
"Fancy that," said Eton mildly.
She gave him a searching gaze. "I hope I don't have competition for your attention?"
Eton laughed, amused. "Hardly stupid enough to take my eyes off you for a second, old girl. No telling what you'd get up to."
"I'll have to keep things that way, then, won't I?" She beamed. "What about her?"
"Well, the girl did manage to get across the border," Eton said. "Which, one observes, is rather in line with the sorts of things you tend to try when I'm not watching you."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? You think I was behind it somehow?"
"Really haven't a clue," Eton said mildly. "Was sort of hoping I could bring it up and you might drop some hint as to whether you were or not."
"And have I?"
"Course not." Eton shrugged. "Wasn't quite sure what I hoped to gain from it, to be perfectly honest."
She laughed. "Would you like me to admit that it was actually my idea?"
"Not sure that would help," Eton said. "Wouldn't believe you anyway."
"I know." Rhiadna smiled at him, almost affectionately. "How about this: I give you my word that I'm not trying anything untoward right now. I promise. Even someone like me needs to take a break from time to time, you know." Her smile became coy. "And besides, even if I were, sending our land over the border is a very different thing to sending one person over. Believe me, I would know."
"Don't doubt that," Eton said with genuine honesty. "Well, not that I don't consider your word to be worth less than the paper it's not spoken on, but might have a word with the girl before I bugger off anyway. Just in case, you understand."
"Of course. I'm afraid I can't tell you where you might find her, though. She's a bit of a free spirit."
"Like will find like," said Eton sagely.
"I'm sure it will." She crossed her legs and leaned forwards; for a moment Eton had to concentrate to keep his eyes fixed on her face. "And your other point?"
"Well..." Eton paused for a moment. "Don't suppose you've heard anything untoward from the Orchards area, have you?"
"The Orchards?" Rhiadna's brow furrowed in thought. Eton watched her expression closely, in the vague hope that he might be able to glean something from it. "Not that I recall, no. Why?"
"Apparently the chaps who hear such things have heard reports of... interesting things happening in the Empire over there." Eton shrugged. "There was mention of girls walking through walls and autumn leaves blowing about in cities."
Rhiadna's eyes widened slightly. "And you think the Orchards might be breaking through?"
"Sounds like a possibility," Eton agreed, nodding. "Know anything?"
"No." Rhiadna shook her head. "Not that I would tell you if I did, but... that's the first I've heard of anything over there." Her expression brightened. "You've piqued my curiosity now, you know. I might go over there myself and have a look."
"Had a feeling you might," Eton said evenly. "Would rather you didn't, mind. Likely to be enough of a bother without you getting under the feet as well."
"And when was the last time I let that stop me?"
"Point." Eton shrugged. "Well, not like I can stop you, and not like I didn't expect you to head over there before I dropped in. You genuinely know nothing about the whole affair?"
"Hard to believe, I know." Rhiadna shook her head. "No, nothing." She turned her head to one side and stared blankly into the air. "Saturday knows about me. If he were trying something like that... I'd have expected him to talk to me." She flashed Eton a smile that, while evidently smug, was still genuinely radiant. "I am the authority on it, after all."
"Don't I know it," Eton said firmly. "Well... will assume for the moment that you're not pulling my leg. Good news if you're not."
"Maybe." Rhiadna gave Eton a searching look. "Why are you asking me about this, if you knew that I would be interested in it even if I didn't already know? If the Orchards are breaking through, then why would you want me aiding them in it?"
"Better the devil you know," said Eton mildly. "Know how to deal with you. Not so sure about any of the other buggers out there."
The fae smiled faintly. "I can't tell whether that's a compliment or an insult."
"If in doubt... best not to ask," Eton said.
She laughed curtly. "Are you on your way over there now, then?"
"That's the plan." Eton nodded. "Sort the whole affair out before the proper chaps have to get involved."
"They really do make good use of you, don't they?"
"The man has expertise," Eton said. "No one can put up with you lot as well as I can."
Rhiadna laughed again, feigning shock. "How rude! Sometimes I wonder if you don't appreciate my company."
Eton shook his head firmly. "Would never admit to it, no."
"Give me a chance to win you over, then." She reached out and laid one hand gently on his knee. "Stay in the Hold for a couple of nights, and we'll take you over to the Orchard ourselves."
Eton was silent for a long while.
"I... best not, I think," he said eventually. "Not too far a trip by the right roads. Might be awkward to spend too much time with you while on official FO business, what? And I swear half of your chaps and madams out there still aren't too happy with me just yet."
Rhiadna nodded understandingly, withdrawing her hand. "I appreciate how it might be seen, though it's not like to care about that. And you did rather make a mess of my Hold last time. Maybe another time, then."
"Maybe another time," agreed Eton. He stood, and she followed suit. "No doubt there'll be plenty of further opportunities."
"No doubt." Rhiadna extended her hand. "Enjoy your walk, Eton Fives."
Eton took her hand in hers. "That I shall. See you in the Orchards." |
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