Posted on: Sunday, 30 August 2009
A faint glow of reddish light manifested in the darkness. It grew slowly, gradually absorbing the blackness until there was nothing else left. In the middle of the red appeared a sliver of white. She blinked; the sliver expanded into a round globe for a split-second before winking out of existence entirely. Another blink and it returned, this time muddied with colors of green, red, and brown. The vague blurs became smudges; smudges became lines; lines became shapes. The world around her came into slow, inevitable focus and revealed a smiling, familiar face.
"Hey," Imoen smiled, leaning forward over her. "You're awake."
Her head felt like it'd been cracked open and stuffed full of cotton. "Am I?"
"Looks like."
Cassandra closed her eyes again. The world disappeared, leaving her with a vague feeling of nausea as the blackness rushed in to replace it. She forced them back open before the sensation of sickness could rise into her throat. "Where are we?"
"In a tent, in the Forest of Tethir."
Cassie tried to lever herself up on her elbows to look around, but Imoen gently yet firmly pushed her back down. "A tent?"
"Yup."
"Tethir?"
"Yup." The sorceress shook her head as Cassie tried once more to rise; her steady hand on the warrior's chest again forbade the movement. "Nuh-uh. Stay put."
It seemed a reasonable enough suggestion, considering the sluggish fog in her head. Cassie lay back down and breathed in slowly. The air was fresh and cool, smelling of faint rain and greenery – a strange, foreign odor after so long underground. Around her were pale linen walls, propped up on tall wooden staves, lashed together by leather cording: an actual physical tent, not one crafted by Imoen's magery. Sunlight shone through from outside, flooding the shelter with soft beige light. It hurt her eyes.
"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked, looking over at her sibling. "The last thing I remember is—" Her mind flashed backwards, filling her thoughts with screams and scenes of violence. The fighting pits, the argument with Imoen, the red-headed servant girl crying and begging to be left alone. Phaere smiling seductively and leading him – her – to the bedroom. Panic. Running. Thunder. Blackness. The sound of the end of the world. "—screaming," she finished softly. "Just screaming."
Imoen reached out, smoothing the red waves of Cassie's hair out of her eyes. Her lips bore a small, sad smile. "Four days."
"Four?" She sighed. "Damn."
