Minimal telepathy, thank the GODS. I love you, Everan, but I hate Gaia italics.
May I note that, with this chapter finished, I am about 1/7 done with Ametris. Go me.
Also, I really need help with Tyrranen's dialogue. I can never make hers natural enough, even though it's anything but. So, I'll post in really big letters:
MENTION SOMETHING ABOUT HER DIALOGUE IN YOUR COMMENT OR ELSE I WILL SUSPEND CHAPTER TEN FOR ANOTHER WEEK AFTER I FINISH IT,
which is probably tonight.
Reese, if you kill me I refuse to finish chapter ten, so THERE!
Chapter Nine:
Every single elf stared in frozen shock as the Great Tree caught fire, high above their heads, motionless with fear even as the flame spread, showering them with ash and flaming bark. The fire ate along the branch, catching others, heading right for the heart of the forest guardian without mercy, crawling inevitably towards those standing transfixed in the square.
“
What are you doing?” Marli heard herself scream in the silence—a higher voice screamed wordlessly with her, though she didn’t acknowledge it at the time—“
RUN!”[KV] The words caused a ripple of panicking, shouts, and screams, and every single one of them was jolted out of their daze and thrust into reality—they were going to die if they didn’t move. This reality was harshly enforced a minute later as a tree limb the size of a grown man crashed into the middle of the square, scattering elves, humans, and merpeople like bats from daylight, and all was chaos as everyone ran every which way, even towards the Great Tree, lost and confused in the mêlée. All save one.
In the backs of their minds, many present heard a high, panicked voice scream,
“East! Go EAST! GO, NOW!” and mindlessly obeyed, turning away from the burning tree and pelting into the eastern forest. They also saw a small blonde teenager standing atop the abandoned platform, waving her arms frantically and shouting something, but most of them never made the connection. Those that didn’t see or hear saw everyone turning, running the other way, and followed, running full-out with children or elderly parents in tow due east, where the races’ leaders would be waiting for them, ready to organize the evacuation. Within perhaps ten minutes, everyone that would make it out was.
Marli jumped down as a burning branch narrowly missed her, crashing into the erected dais, and when she had stood up again she found herself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar crowd, a stone jutting from a flooding river, alone, lost, and scared. Feeling like the child she really was, she looked all around, and up—nightmares below, ash and fallen stones, nightmares to every side, nightmares above, where the fiery sun in the burning cloud sat restlessly in the black, ashy sky, ever growing, ever hungry for more. Without even thinking about it, she called the first thing that came to mind, very softly…“Raena?” And then louder, “
Raena!” But then she came to her senses…
She’s dead, she told herself.
They’re all dead. Her fear by no means abated, but her common sense and sympathetic reflexes back with a vengeance, she turned and ran with everyone else, the roaring of the flames and the screaming of mothers, fathers, and children making her head pound, where it would echo in her ears for as long as she lived.
Kamilé’s voice left her as she stared, wide-eyed, at the place where Everan used to be. The details of the scene, everything down to the tiny lines of as drifting to the ground, drove themselves into her memory, so she would never, ever forget. Her body figured it out before her mind did; her heart started thumping in her throat, and she couldn’t breathe…the world was spinning, crashing down…
“Everan?” she heard her voice call, tiny and quavering. “Everan? Where are you…?”
“Godsdammit!” someone exploded angrily behind her. She started, turning around to see that sorceress, the one that hurt Everan, looking around with pale fists clenched, crimson nails shining with a bloody sheen in the light of the fire high above. “Where the hell is it?”
“He’s gone,” Kamilé whispered, then louder, “he’s gone…he went away…”
“Not
him!” Tyrranen swore curses Kamilé had never heard before. “Who cares about
him, where IS it?” Her eyes raked Kamilé over, as if she had whatever it was somewhere, but then she decided that her pockets weren’t big enough or something and ignored her existence.
“Hërdé,” [KV1] she muttered, scanning the grass surrounding the Great Tree—she seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was on fire, or maybe she just didn’t care. “Stupid kid dropped it somewhere…”
A cold, twisting pain was now working its way from Kamilé’s heart, rising up her throat…the world was turning upside-down, and she felt dizzy and sick…she tried calling Everan, this time with her mind, but all that was there was silence…more than silence… she gasped as she felt the wound now, black and crushing pain like half her body had been ripped away. Tears dripped down her face unheeded as she let out a heartbroken cry, shivering so hard that she could barely stand.
“Everan!” she cried desperately, praying with all her heart for an answer. “Everan,
come back!” “Oh, shut up,” Tyrranen snapped.
Kamilé let out a sharp breath and swiveled around; again, she had forgotten the sorceress was there. She felt a hot fury warm her numbness at the sight of her…the red haze crept up before her eyes again…how
dare she talk to her, how
dare she hurt Everan,
how DARE she BREATHE after all she had done, that evil witch who had taken Everan away from her—
“Bring him back,” she ordered, in a voice she had never used before—it resembled a cold, poisonous snarl, the likes of which she had never heard, never even imagined.
Tyrranen snorted, waving an impatient hand as she swept back up the street, long skirt rustling against the stone. “Go back to your treehouse, little girl,” she said dismissively.
In any sensible person, such intimate knowledge would have set off a huge alarm bell, but Kamilé was anything but, fueled with pain and rage.
“Bring him BACK!” “Why would I?” the sorceress scoffed. “Couldn’t anyway, but he deserved it,
gods was he annoying. And anyway, he wasn’t very nice to you, was he?”
That hurt, badly—Kamilé’s angry retort froze on her lips.
“B-but…” she murmured, almost to herself, “but he…”
“He always got annoyed because you weren’t as smart as him,” Tyrranen interrupted. “And it was his idea to run away, and his idea to live by yourselves, and he never properly forgave you for anything, did he? It was like he never forgot everything you did, like he was still angry…And to think, if he would have done a simple thing, just forgiven your ah, ‘mother,’ you would both be safe in bed. Go home. Trust me, you won’t miss him.”
It was like the tiny, doubting part of her mind, which she didn’t even know existed until now, had spoken aloud in a way she never would or could, targeting each and every one of her negative feelings towards Everan. Each word felt like a dagger stabbing into her; she could barely breathe, and it took all her effort to gasp out, “N-no… he’s…not…” She swallowed hard. “Bring him back!
Please! I
need him!”
“What’s the use?” Tyrranen had never even bothered turning around. “He’s dead. That’s it. There’s nothing after…death is the end, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
The reality hit her hard, and for a moment, tears blinded her. It was the first time in her life to truly listen when someone said the word “dead,” and its driving impact crushed her beneath its weight.
Death. In stories, it was when people said something dramatic, fell, and never rose again. But that was not entirely true here—it meant cold, darkness, paralyzing fear and pain. She could feel it…Everan could feel it too, strong and hard and intense. Now…now she understood why people cried over corpses…now she fully understood the word “death.”
[KV2] “No,” she moaned, tears burning her eyes and cheeks. “No…why’d you…he c-can’t be dead…you k-killed…Everan…”
The pain was too much for her, relentless, burning, blinding…she would have been torn apart from the mind downward right then and there and started screaming at the top of her lungs, but then something happened—the red haze returned, and at once saved her and completely destroyed her. And yet, for a few wonderful minutes it took over, allowing her to let go and shelter herself in the deepest corner of her mind, wrapping around her and protecting her from the pain. But in her place was someone completely different, someone to whom violence, pain and death meant nothing; and revenge…
everything.
“You killed him,” she snarled, her entire body shuddering as it tried to keep the rage under control.
Tyrranen shrugged eloquently, already on her way up the street—she didn’t take this statement for what it really was…a warning. A final chance.
[KV3] Fighting the anger was a losing battle, and with a wordless scream of pure fury, Kamilé snapped.
“YOU KILLED HIM!” The sorceress barely had time to turn around before Kamilé dove at her waist, knocking her over with a gasp—but it was only shock and the suddenness of the attack that had overturned her, and while Kamilé kicked and punched and bit and scratched, mad with fury and fueled by pain, Tyrranen reoriented herself and kicked Kamilé hard in the chest, actually sending her flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap on the grass ten feet away, where the street ended. Kamilé was too surprised by her immortal
[KV4] strength to register pain; she gasped for breath, watching with half-closed eyes as the sorceress’s shiny, thin-heeled boots stopped barely an arm’s length away.
“I was
going to let you live,” she said coolly, “but you seem to be dissatisfied with your life, so I suppose I’ll have to end it for you. You should have learned from your brother—
do NOT mess with me.” Kamilé rose shakily to her feet, gasping a little as the bruise across her chest throbbed painfully. “You killed him,” she said, her voice quavering with anger, “so I’ll kill y—
augh!” Tyrranen cut her off with a swift, powerful punch, and Kamilé felt her nose start pouring out blood before, again, she found herself on the ground.
“You think you’re
so special,” the sorceress spat. “So did he, so full of himself, he thought he could take on anything with power he never had. You can’t kill me, no matter how angry you get. You, both of you, are nothing more than stupid, worthless
trash.”
Worthless—Kamilé knew what it meant, but had never been called that before in her life. It hurt, cut her so deeply that the red haze disintegrated a little, allowing her to cry. “Liar!” she objected weakly, wishing it was true.
“Hah. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All you want is for someone to tell you you’re worth more than the effort it takes to put you down for good. But it won’t be me, oh no…I can see your whole
pathetic life, his too. Neither of you were worth the air you stole…I believe it would be better for the rest of the world if I put you out of your misery, don’t you think?”
Kamilé’s tears were drying now, in the heat of pure rage…
both of them. Everan was—had
not been worthless…far from it…all the rest of them were awful to her, forgot she was there or picked on her, but he never had…if that was worthless, then worth had no business with her. No one could ever, ever be like Everan…no one…why would anyone want to take that away?
Everan, she called, rising to her knees and breathing hard,
you weren’t worthless…were you? Or…or were you lying? In a fit of niceness years ago, Everan had informed her of the reason why on one liked them much: simply that they were cooler and the other people didn’t understand. She had beloved him, of course…but had he been telling the truth?
But then something broke her out of her reverie, in the most dramatic way something could, that being a wave of complete, horrified shock.
Lying? Him, lying? Hah! Of COURSE he was! She wasn’t thinking it. And neither was Everan.
The witch was telepathic.
One would have to be telepathic to understand exactly how awfully terribly bad that was.
Long, long ago, she and Everan had made a pact, one that he had convinced her was extremely important. This pact had two parts: firstly, they were to never try and use telepathy on anyone besides each other, and secondly, they were to never go further than simple communication. The reason for this was that one day, when they were three years old, Kamilé had gotten annoyed with Everan’s habit of refusing to reveal certain crucial parts of things she wanted to know—“keeping secrets” was how she had put it. So in retaliation, she had, without realizing exactly what or how she was doing it, attempted to hack into his memories to see what it was. It had hurt him, and he had fought back, but his attempt was much stronger—he had gained access to not only her memory, but her subconscious and vitals as well, and if he had not stopped, he would have killed her. That day, they realized something both amazing and scary at the same time.
Telepathy is not communication with the mind…it is
control of the mind.
Communication is only a small part—the sender of the message must actually
force the image or idea into the other person’s mind, calling on different sensory neurons to place the thought into the person’s mind. Even a strong connection resembles a mere thought to a normal person, and even a telepathic person; the only difference is that the latter knows that the thought is not their own, and can respond. It is only the most basic thing one can do with telepathy—everything from hypnosis to mind control to telekinesis is available to a practiced mind.
Everan had realized how dangerous it was, and had made Kamilé swear to never try that again, on him or anyone else. But they had never imagined that there was anyone like them, with their power…especially not someone who knew what they were doing… who could and would kill her without any hesitation…
Kamilé was staring death in the face, but was too terrified to move or speak…it took all her effort to force out a semi-coherent thought, something like,
Wh-wha..? OW!A burst of hot pain from no apparent source exploded behind her eyes, and she clapped her hands over her ears and screamed in a vain effort to keep her brain from exploding. The words carved themselves into her mind, every venomous syllable wrenching a scream from her mouth.
[KV5] He lied to you about everything, didn’t he? He said you’d be fine by yourselves, but that didn’t turn out to well, did it? He said he could take care of you, but he lied about that too—what about now? Where is he to help? He abandoned you, JUST LIKE everyone else! Kamilé heard herself screaming at the top of her lungs, no words, just an outburst of pure agony—she screwed her eyes shut to combat the pain, but it didn’t work, her head felt like it was being twisted, crushed, and burned all at once…
…And then it stopped, and her hands fell uselessly to the ground as she lay in a crumpled, shivering ball on the ground, shaking and sobbing—nothing had ever hurt so much in her life.
I expected much more from you, elf, the sorceress said scathingly.
Your kind don’t deserve your power, or any of your other races…the sorcerers should have possessed it long ago, and kept it forever. You’re only a child, a stupid little girl…I can see your whole pathetic life, every detail. I’ve taken everything you had without even trying…what is the point of your existence NOW? Everything…she had taken everything…it was all gone…her city…her home…her best friend…she had taken everything…
everything…
Even Everan.
Kamilé’s eyes flashed, brightly enough for her to feel it, and a rush of energy pulsed through her limbs.
She would pay. When Kamilé had stumbled to her feet, she knew considerably more about the world than she had before—they were no longer on stone, but on the grass at the end of the street; burning limbs of increasingly larger size had fallen all around them; the sorceress was exactly two feet three inches out of her leg range, had her arms down, and was laughing at her.
A low, snarling noise came out of her mouth, and her fists clenched—it was the most coherent way she could think of to express her fury. Tyrranen gave forth a genuine laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head in amusement.
“What now, little girl? Are you going to turn into a wolf and eat me now? I had no
idea you were so powerful…should I start running?”
Kamilé had no idea what a wolf was,
[KV6] but she knew when she was being insulted, and the sorceress was playing with fire now. She could pick on her all she wanted, but
no one insulted her brother
,[KV7] and no one even
dared to
touch him…the red haze returned with a vengeance, and the very last shreds of Kamilé’s former personality were locked firmly away. Without the slightest bit of rational thought involved, Kamilé screamed furiously and rushed at the sorceress, revenge lighting a fire in her eyes and a strong power in her limbs.
She was actually a match for Tyrranen now, and every punch and kick the sorceress landed was matched with one from her, a hard shoulder thrust into her stomach here, a roundhouse kick to her face there. The sorceress was furious, her enraged shouting dimming a little in Kamilé’s ears as Tyrranen’s fist collided with her head, blind with rage that a small girl literally half her size had actually made her bleed—Kamilé’s front teeth had left their mark on her arm, so deep that she had almost lost them pulling them back out. Kamilé fought as hard as she could, regardless of injury or pain, but it didn’t take long before the sorceress had had just about—
ENOUGH! she shrieked, her telepathic force blinding Kamilé with pain again for long enough to knock her to the ground. When her vision cleared, Kamilé found herself staring at a fist-sized sphere of the same dark matter that had killed Everan; only this time, it was pure black.
“Enough,” Tyrranen spat again, chest heaving as she glared down at Kamilé, who noticed with dismay that sparks of the stuff from her hands, only a different color, were automatically stitching up the bite marks on her arm, the bruise on her cheek, and the cut from Kamilé’s sharp fingernails above her eye. She rose shakily to her feet, glaring defiantly right back, her new sharp, fast mind ticking off the minor injuries she had acquired and sending her body to fix them right away. But the foremost part of her brain did not care about this, knowing full well that if she made any sudden moves, she would be considerably worse off.
They glared at each other for a minute, suspended in their own silent battle in the midst of chaos—burning branches falling from the Great Tree, ashes layering on everything like black snow, people screaming and dying in every direction—before either of them moved; Tyrranen smirked, still out of breath, eyes radiating cold fury.
“I’m through with you,” she said coolly. “Goodbye, little girl, and I pray you burn in
hell.”
Kamilé should have run then, but her legs weren’t quick enough; before she could get out of the way, the sorceress had released the sphere of sparks in her palm—
—but not at her.
Kamilé’s eyes followed the glowing comet, no longer black, but reddish-orange, as it flew high above her head and collided with a huge, burning log, about to fall onto the grass to their right. Her eyes widened, and she had time for a single piercing scream before the sorceress made a violent gesture and brought it crashing down.
Every single one of them had been told to
run, go as fast as you can, keep running, fall behind and you die,
[KV8] and all of them obeyed without question. Marli’s efforts brought them to the end of the street, where the four races’ leaders had stopped to wait for every one of them, each one in some unanimous agreement gathering and counting the members of their respective races and keeping them together. They eventually decided that it was not safe there—the plant life in and around the square had caught fire, too, and branches were falling all around them, crushing anything underneath them and making everything with the ability to catch on fire do so.
Everyone that was present was sent off with Italis, Lina, and Goba, and only the seven Elders stayed behind, herding stragglers and setting them on the right path, away from the destruction. But even they had to leave as they felt, with hopeless despair, a light northeast wind blowing; it swept the fire their way, catching the trees in the forest, and they knew all was lost. One by one, starting with Elder Sariynn, the youngest, the Elders evacuated, unwillingly and with many sad glances back toward the burning city, disappearing into the forest. The last to leave was Elder Srai, long after the oldest among them, Elder Carn, had disappeared; she scanned the street for anyone left behind, shook her head sadly, and whispered a short plead to the gods to save her people and her home before she, too, was forced to turn and run.
Tyrranen covered her eyes with her arm as sparks and burning splinters flew everywhere, her power diverting all the wreckage away from her and keeping her clean throughout the maelstrom of ash and flame. When it had settled, she lowered her arm and, smirking, surveyed her work.
That being a tiny, pale hand with a green bracelet adorning it, blistering already with the heat, the only part of the little elf girl that was visible beneath the huge branch, which was splintered in half from the force of the fall. The girl was probably in no better shape beneath it; a force like that on her back would have snapped her spine in an instant.
Tyrranen allowed herself a small, pleased laugh. A short, pathetic victory, but a victory all the same.
Let’s see that girl stop me now, she thought viciously.
But, she decided, surveying the mêlée, it was time to be going now. She had what she needed, and she was more than comfortable with letting the forest, and everyone in it, burn to ashes and dust. And though it was quite out of character, she couldn’t stop herself, as she passed, from kicking the girl’s tiny hand, blackened by flames and twitching lightly in the throes of death.
Chaos reined in Kocha’s square; the organization attempt of the four leaders had no effect on the threescore or so people still in the area, lost, running for their lives, or trapped. There were still those that had missed the huge crowd, perhaps already going to sleep or continuing the party in their houses with their friends; the lucky ones of these had looked out the window and seen the running and the flames, and ran after all the rest. The unlucky ones only noticed when they heard the screams, or when burning branches crashed near their homes or on them. A few very unfortunate ones were crushed and trapped beneath flames and burning wood before they even knew what was happening. These were the ones that would fill the infirmary and the graveyard the next day, perhaps both.
Those that had run were faced with a dilemma:
which way? Many found the right path from seeing quite a lot of others doing the same, or out of pure common sense, in the area of “if the storm is to the west, go east”.
[KV9] But there were some that did not—escaping humans, merpeople, or dwarves, having no sense of direction in an unfamiliar forest, went entirely the wrong way, confused and lost along with several other elves who were simply too confused and panicked to stop and
find the right direction. Some thought it wise to head for the river; this idea, though ingenious in its planning, was fatal in its execution. They were forcibly stopped in the middle of the path by the fallen tree, and before they could escape, quite a few more had ended their lives.
[KV10] And then there were those that were trapped, whether in the forest by burning trees and limbs or by their own deteriorating houses, turning anxiously in every direction and screaming for help as they tried desperately to escape. Finding their efforts to be futile, as they backed into corners or against anything not on fire, all they could do was protect anyone close to them and pray with all their might that someone, the Elders, the gods, the chosen, was coming to save them.
But their hope was in vain, and no one came until hours later, when it was too late.
There was one other division of those still inside the city, one that was altogether different; it had only two members, one of which was physically in the city—the other had disappeared completely. This lone elf was also trapped, also praying for help, but unlike the others, it was no force of nature that had attacked her. It was a person that was the cause of the huge branch on top of her, a person that was gone and had left her to die. She was her own class, a murderer’s dying victim, simply because she was alone. And would remain so.
Kamilé’s scream was cut off by a huge, black-and-red monstrosity slamming into her back, and when she heard a loud
CRACK! she had no idea if it was it, or her. She lost all her senses in a black void of pain for what seemed like an eternity, in which she could not scream, could not breathe, could not think. The branch was crushing her lungs and everything below them, trapping her in the midst of red-hot flames; she felt them licking across her skin, hungrily eating away at her arms, legs, back, and face. Before her eyes, black-edged with agony, the skin on her outstretched arm blistered, shriveled, and died, transforming her hand into a black, withered claw. Horrified, she tried to scream but couldn’t, her brain sending a million pain signals throughout her body, too confused and agonized to even think out a plea for help. All she could do was pleadingly stretch out her hand, hoping that someone would take it and pull her out, if they had a shred of mercy in their hearts.
But she was denied another chance at life as the only person left to see her, just a glimpse of black boots between curled, black leaves, kicked her hand hard and laughed before disappearing out of her sight.
Kamilé couldn’t hold on anymore…it hurt too much…she couldn’t see…she couldn’t…think…this…this was death, it had to be…she was dying…the sorceress had killed her…her life was over…
please let it be over…please…make it…stop… As even the pain faded away into darkness, Kamilé heard her heart, thumping madly in her ears, begin to grow dimmer and dimmer. Her mind was numb, unable to understand what was happening, or to grasp on to any idea save one…
Maybe…maybe…I’ll see…Everan… And then, finally, she slipped away from the world that would never miss her.
AM I GREAT AT KILLING PEOPLE OR WHAT?!?!?!?!
Yeah, that's right Reese. Kamile's dead too.
...Nah, I'm not gonna torment you like that. Kamile has less chance of being dead than Everan does, if that's any comfort. But she ain't gonna be pretty.
Well? Was that not an excellently dramatic death scene?
Don't forget to comment on my dialogue.
KV: Good ol' MArli and her kickass other-country instincts.
KV1: Herde means...well, it's bad. Really bad. Like, worse than the f word. You can get creative, add you or him/her/it or perhaps even another curse with clever results.
KV2: One of my aims with Ametris was to provide people with a completely different view of death. Not necessarily this one. You'll see in the end.
KV3: I know what you're thinking--OOH, how threatening, a midget--but it's, uh, scarier than you'd think. You know how Tyrranen has freaky red eyes? Imagine that effect with SILVER. Much scarier.
KV4: Immortal being, not mortal. Not like, anti-death glowing beings...it's the Ametrsan way of saying inhuman, because that's just racist.
KV5: Imagine the feeling of someone twisting your arm. HArder. HArder. No matter how much you plead for them to stop, stomp on their toes, whatever, they keep doing it, until your arm breaks. Now imagine someone doing that to your BRAIN. That's what it feels like...and your arm breaking is your sanity snapping. Perhaps a few strands of spinal cord too. Usually kills you.
KV6: There aren't any wolves in Ametris. And I quote, from my footnote, "Wolf: There are no vicious, carnivorous beasts in a country of peace, if you weren’t aware."
KV7: This is (maybe) the first time in the entire book where Kamile refers to Everan as her brother. After he's dead. Now doesn't that make you wanna hug YOUR brother?
KV8: It's like that old story...The GingerBread man yelled back to his pursuers, "Run, run as fast as you can, keep running, fall behind and you die!!!" And then the pursuers stopped, stared, and yelled back, "what the f***, man!?"
KV9: Old ametrisan proverby thing.
KV10: And you thought that part was pointless. Mmph. Told ya so. NOTHING IS POINTLESS! ...except the pointless stuff. XD 
