Freedom and Falling (Afina Final) (568 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by helbling (View user info) at 2006-01-17 17:38:44 EST
Last part of the Afina series. Thanks everyone for reading - if it seems open ended, it's meant to; there will mostly likely be a sequel. But not now, for t'is exam season.
Part one here: http://www.ubersite.com/m/81634
Part two here: http://www.ubersite.com/m/81836
Part three here: http://www.ubersite.com/m/81935
Part four here: http://www.ubersite.com/m/82102
Part five here: http://www.ubersite.com/m/82279
"'Fina!" The high-pitched voice of my baby brother filters through the summer leaves along with the sunbeams that we have positioned ourselves in, and I cannot help my snort of annoyance.
"'Fina, you gots to come help!"
"You knew he would find us," says Mattie next to me, her voice wry as she opens one eye to peer at me. "He always does."
We are sprawled on our cloaks in a hidden glade enjoying the warmth in a dip off one of the sheep fields - we can hear their bleating on the breeze. Jel is quietly occupied with her embroidery, but Mattie was napping in the sun, her hair sprawled out in a wave about her head, the light playing previously hidden threads of gold and scarlet up and down strands that are normally brown. I lie on my cloak in between them, plaiting and unplaiting my hair, and trying to think whether I can darn my blue dress in time for the Guild's visit next week.
There is a rustle of leaves above us, and I look up to see Mikal's russet tresses stood out like a beacon against the emerald of the surrounding undergrowth.
"'Fina! Come on! Ma says, and it's my birfday!"
I sigh in an exasperated way. "Couldn't you give us just a little longer, cub?"
He stamps his foot in a manner that is midway between impatience and exasperation, and epitomises my six year old brother perfectly. He gained the nickname 'cub' or 'lion cub' after Gramps said Mikal's hair reminded him of the mane of the big cats he'd seen to the south in his travels in his youth, and it stuck. Mikal is proud of it, insisting that all his friends call him it too - I can guarantee in less than two years he'll think it foolish and childish, and want us all to revert back to 'Mikal' and no one will be able to manage.
He brandishes his newest toy at me - a kite, with his nickname's appearance painted on it, as remembered and transcribed by Gramps. It is far from an impressive rendition, and personally I think it looks like a goat wearing a fur collar, but I have kept this opinion to myself.
He is desperate to fly it. Rold has probably made a few half-hearted attempts and then retreated to the blacksmiths were he is apprenticing, hoping no one saw him playing with a child's toy. Jayan will have made himself scarce so Mikal will then have spent half an hour searching for me, and having found me, will not go away until I play with him.
"Cub..." I groan, not wishing to move from my sunbeam.
"'Fina, come ooon!" he whines, and his lower lip trembles threateningly.
I throw up my hands in surrender. "All right! All right, but not long, ok? Not all day." I shake my finger at him to emphasize this as I get to my feet, but he pays it no attention, just grins at me and then bounces away in the direction of the field. I roll my eyes in his direction, and shake the twigs off my cloak.
"We'll come too," says Mattie, getting to her feet beside me. "Might be fun, you never know, and I'm bored."
I nod at her, and look to her twin, who is quietly getting to her feet also - but then I doubt that Jel could do anything noisily if she wanted to.
We head up into the field, where Mikal is dancing in circles, his kite lovingly held in his arms like a partner. He looks so funny; we can't help but giggle a little, but he forgives us our amusement, running to us with arms open wide and a grin as free as the wind itself, throwing himself on our skirts.
"Now? Now 'Fina, can we make it go?" he pleads, staring up at me with big green eyes.
"Alright cub," I say, ruffling his hair. "Let's make it go. Mattie, could you grab the kite, and we'll take the string?"
She nods, and moves away from us, kite clasped in her hands as we unravel the twine which Mikal has done a fine job of snarling up. Jel helps us with a quiet smile as Mikal babbles to her about how the kite will look when it's up, and how great the lion painting is, and does she think he looks like a lion because Gramps says he does...
He doesn't stop talking the entire time we are fighting with the string, but then it's better that way - if he tried to help I doubt we'd ever be successful.
Eventually we win our battle, and pull the line taunt. There is a momentary pause as Mattie and Jel switch with each other, when Mattie asserts, quite truthfully, that she is the faster runner.
"Alright, cub, you ready?" He nods with an exaggerated movement and a huge smile.
With a nod to Jel, we run, Mikal with us, his short legs unable to keep pace. We each grab him by an arm, and fly, across the field, feet seemingly free of the divots and bolt holes that we normally stumble over, Mikal shrieking with excitement and joy, until a shout behind us from Jel makes us slow and turn.
It is up - caught on some breeze that lives high above the tree-line, it flutters unsteadily in the wind, falling for a brief second and then swooping back up again when it seems to be just at the point of no return, then rising higher and higher, the tail below it performing a strange, hypnotic writhe while the paint glints in the sun.
Mikal is beside himself with joy, wresting the string from me one moment, then thrusting it back the next and speeding along the ground below the kite to view it from all angles, and no matter which way he looks at it, it is apparently 'the bestest thing in the world!' We three girls cannot help but grin, both at him and because of the kite - it is infectious.
All our dreams, our hopes, our futures seem to be hanging on that small square of parchment and wood, dancing in the sky, bright, happy and vibrant, and for this day, the future is perfect.
I cannot remove the memory from my mind, and I am not sure I want to - it has been so long since I've been able to think of them in a manner that was not soured by blood or pain or death. But now, here, on a ferry out from the Imperial city, the scent of brine and freedom in my nostrils, it seems right, for all the sun is that of winter, not summer, and the only thing flying right now is the flag on the ship, rather than a kite.
The captain keeps asking me why I keep spending all my time on deck, when I have paid for a nice warm cabin below - I muttered an excuse about seasickness, and do my best to look suitably uncomfortable whenever he is around. I doubt he would recognise me - and there are reports for me to be recognised from, the killing of a dragon-blooded Lord and the exaltation of an anathema in the Imperial city would hardly pass without comment - but there is no harm in being careful.
I look hardly like myself at all - a set of stolen saddlebags hold what is left of my possessions, not a roughly knotted sheet. My hair is a dull brown, courtesy of some leather dye, my green eyes hidden behind thick lenses of glasses that I found at a junk stall by the harbour. My once slender figure now appears dumpy thanks to rags stuffed inside a dress procured from a washer woman, and some badly fitting boots with overly thick soles give me a strange gait and make me two inches taller than I used to be. If anyone asks, I am off to visit a sister of mine on the mainland who has just had her first child - where this sister lives changes every time I tell the tale.
I am well prepared for the chase I know they will give for me - I will live through it, and I will stay ahead of them; how is a matter I have yet to decide, but I do not care. My heart is as light and as carefree as the kite that fills my mind's eye.
I am free.
I am cold, I am wet and I am tired. My horse is dead, so I suppose things could be worse - I could be the same way.
Thankfully I am not far away from the next town - I can see the lights just over the hill.
What I cannot see is hope.
I have been out of the Imperial city for nearly two years, and in that time I have never spent more than a month in any one place. My money is nearly gone - it was a sizeable amount, that I was correct in, but I lacked the knowledge of how to use it scrupulously, how to hide it, how to watch against thieves and pickpockets, how to know at a glance whether an innkeeper will give me an honest price, how to judge - I give the body at my feet a hefty and angry kick - whether a horse is worth its asking price.
By the time I'd learnt, it was too late, and much of it was gone. That was six months ago - now I have enough money to get me a roof over my head for three days if I can find somewhere cheap and don't eat - one night if all the cheap places are already full.
It is nearly midnight already - the cheap option does not look likely. I sling my saddlebag over one shoulder and take my bow in my other hand and begin walking, my feet slipping in the mud, but thankfully the one thing I did know how to recognise was good quality in clothing, so my boots let in none of the moisture.
I have tried many times to get a job, but it is difficult when you cannot stay for any length of time, and as a lone female. Men will hire me, but only to spend time in their beds and those of their friends than to do any job in particular, and women think from my status as a single female that I will be more interested in dallying with male customers than doing what they hired me for.
There were decent people here and there though - a seamstress in the south who paid me for my literacy in taking her orders, and an older couple in the north who gave me room and board in return for chopping their wood and keeping their house since the wife's arthritis had gotten too bad to do most of the chores. But I can never stay - for their safety as much as my own. In all this time, they have never stopped searching for me.
I feel my knees shake with exhaustion as I struggle to pull my feet from the mud. I am tired in more ways than one.
I am gradually coming to a conclusion, and it one that I do not want to come to. If there were any other way, I would take it, but picking pockets would not get me the money I need, and stealing larger things is a sure way to get myself caught faster. No town mob will trust someone - least of all a woman - who rides into to town, breaks some knees for them and then rides out again three weeks later.
I think of the few items of clothing in the bag that will qualify for what I need them for, and sigh in despair.
I will have to nightwalk, as it is called. Who cares for its name, it is taking money to allow men to use my body, and I loathe the very idea of it - it is almost enough to make me want to lie down here in the cold and the rain and the mud and drown on tears of hopelessness.
Almost. Jel and Mattie and Mikal flash before my eyes once more.
I will survive, and I will make them pay.
No matter what.
I hate Nexus. I loathe it, I despise it with every fibre of my being.
I hate the ground, I hate the sky, I hate the people and their rough, slurring accents, and their violence that would be enough to make me want to buy a dagger or some other kind of knife if I didn't have my raven.
I hate this inn. I hate the owner, who leered at me, and licked his lips in a way that tells me he won't bother to pay for it, but will just try to catch me in a dark hallway and shove his hands where they are not wanted.
I hate this room, which was the last one available, and would be too small for me to use even if it wasn't right at the top of the building, so it means all my business tonight had to be of the 'up against a wall' variety, and thus drove down my prices.
I hate my clothes, I hate that I had to ditch anything that resembled class or style in order to carry more working ones, and that I now view underwear as a luxury rather than a necessity.
I strip off my clothing, and step into a worn green gown - more than sufficient for running the few errands in town that I need to. My 'night' clothes - a black top, which has holes strategically cut out of it, and a matching black skirt that falls to mid-thigh are dropped carelessly on the floor. My boots I also keep, as unlike so many of those worn by others of the 'Sisterhood' (a theory so ridiculous I cannot fail to be amused by it - there is no way whores can exist peacefully with one another) have no heels, but frankly I don't need them. My hair - which I stopped bothering to dye long ago - draws them in like a beacon, and flat boots are better for running away from trouble.
I give the black outfit a kick, wishing for a more substantial target to take out my aggression on. There is still about an hour until dawn. I have nothing to do with myself, but it is not worth trying to find more customers. I pause, wandering if my purse will stretch to both breakfast, and a trip to the bath house.
There is a knock at my door. I answer it cautiously, my foot placed so I can slam it shut again at a moment's notice.
A small elfin woman with dark hair stands outside it.
"Hello," she says, "My I speak with you? My name is Talia Blackthorn."
User Reviews
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2007-05-19 19:36:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
<i>' I volunteer my services as study-buddy...'</i>
Great - how are you at stellar and galactic astrophysics? That's my next one, 1pm Tuesday.
...ye-ah, I shit you not. And folks wonder when I'm perpetually saying I have no free time.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-19 19:24:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well.. good luck with the graduating thing then. I volunteer my services as study-buddy, so we can push through it quicker.
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2007-05-19 19:15:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No, it's not, and the next section has been started many, many times; unfortunately, however, the next section is a tad more complex than the initial, and the amount of free time I've got has pretty much disappeared. Hopefully after I graduate I will be able to actually put some more effort back into them.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-19 19:13:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This isn't the end, right?
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-02 19:51:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
forgot to rate this.
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-24 08:00:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by williamson (user info) at 2006-05-24 07:46:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Top-ranked Uber on Ubersite...
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2006-01-23 00:20:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Absolute quality. A big question for me though is what happened to her magic powers?
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-01-19 06:03:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Absolutely AWESOME! Really enjoyed this, and want to add my "Hope you stay around" to the huuuuge pile you've already gathered!
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-01-18 09:15:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yerrrrrs...and so the adventure begins.
Rocking series, left open for another when your exams finish/when you have the motivation. I like Afina as an anti-hero from the old school - like reading Iain M. Banks in a fantasy world (given that he's my favourite author, take that as a compliment, whatever you think of him).
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-01-18 01:40:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i read this earlier and thought i ranked it.
i've been doing that a lot here lately.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2006-01-18 00:28:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
As usual, I like. A lot. Don't you *dare* stop posting these, or I'll hunt you down and Do Horrible Things to you. And I will, too.
Ask Snark if you don't believe me.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-17 20:30:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, I forgot to mention, I like the way you tie the memories of her past into her present. With a few exceptions, it's pretty seamless, and it adds another facet to the story.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-17 20:29:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ookay, seriously, what is this. I get the impression that this story is taking place in a previoulsy established world, like Forgotten Realms or something like that. Is that the case? I'm curious.
Also, did I miss the explanation for the source of her power? The significance of the Anathema thing? Dragon lord what now?
I need answers!!
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:47:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Please post again, you are my new favorite writer here. Even if not this series, I would love to see more!
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-17 18:30:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hear that.
I suffer from a motivational issue and a deep loathing of the re-writing process.
Good Luck.
Don't stop posting here.
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2006-01-17 18:22:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No - chronic inability to ever finish anything longer than 20,000 words. I'm working on it!
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-17 18:11:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2006-01-17 17:58:49 (#)
Ranking: 0
First time on Uber, but I'm a long time fic writer (and I listen to crits, so I've progressed faster than some) so this is hardly first time writing.
==============
It shows, this is great.
Are you published?
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2006-01-17 17:58:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
First time on Uber, but I'm a long time fic writer (and I listen to crits, so I've progressed faster than some) so this is hardly first time writing.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-17 17:50:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Are you an alt or is this really your first bit of writing on Uber?