Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

Lucivar felt his shield quiver. It was about to go down again. Cassidy and Morton might be able to put up another one after his came down, but what was the point? They both still wore their Birthright Jewels and those were light Jewels at that. Under the constant onslaught of the Jhinka, they'd have another two, maybe two and a half hours before their Jewels were drained, too.

Even if Aaron and the others showed up now, it was doubtful they'd be able to do much to turn the tide of the battle. Six thousand Jhinka, even lacking Craft as they did, were just too damn many.

No, better to save their strength. Maybe between the combined strength of all of Karla's friends, they'd be able to escape.

He spared a thought for the young male, Ender, who'd had a plan that might hopefully get them out of all this. Idly, he wondered if it would have worked, indeed, if it could work still. If he would have a chance of pulling it off before Lucivar's Craft failed, if he could somehow pull it off at all.

Maybe. Still, it was a slim thread to rest all their hopes on. Lucivar couldn't rely on 'maybes,' not when his Queen's life was at stake.

"Morton," he called. ( 'Ask Jaenelle and Karla to join me here.' )

[And we are done--though just for the night! NFI, NFB, OOC is golden. Warning in place for death of an NPC and ultraviolence. Text taken, spindled, mutilated, and folded into origami cranes from Anne Bishop's Heir to the Blood, Chapter Thirteen. Preplayed with rockstars, yo. Plot post masterlist found here.

Also, that long ping about Jaenelle being even prettier now? Straight from the text. Oh, Anne Bishop. Why you so crazy?]

Karla was heading to the courtyard of the Keep, where a portal had been ordered for her return to Fandom. It still felt wrong, oh so wrong, to be heading back to safety and comfort while Jaenelle and Lucivar were out in the wilds of Askavi, circling each other in a dark and dangerous dance. She was supposed to just go home and focus on class while she was wondering if Lucivar still walked the living Realms? If Jaenelle was still suffering from the effects of the safframate? Or--worse yet--wandering the Twisted Kingdom? Even if they needed her and had to summon her back home, it would be days and days until she could return--Kaeleer's time flowed at double the rate of Fandom. Should they discover they needed her skills tomorrow, the earliest Karla could expect to return was next week.

This was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. Maybe if she talked to Saetan once more, this time he would see reason. Or at least get so tired of arguing about it, he'd just let her stay.

She veered off, down the hallway that led to Saetan's suite, marshaling all of her arguments. Presented logically and impartially, she would get through to him. That had been the problem before. She'd let herself get worked up, too emotional. Saetan had seen her as a child, not a witch fully in control of her Craft. Change that and maybe--

"I am so pleased to see the Dark Council has sent a representative to talk about the grievous injuries inflicted in Little Terrielle during Lady Angelline's visit." Saetan's voice floated out of his door, sharp and smooth, like a knife wrapped in silk. Karla stopped--Hell's fire, he wasn't alone. She wouldn't be able to plead her case with him if he was already speaking to someone; especially not a Dark Council representative. But she didn't have time to delay. Her portal was scheduled to arrive in minutes!

( Still, she crept closer to the doorway, no compunctions against eavesdropping. Perhaps she would hear something useful to her cause. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC=love. Text adapted from Chapter Thirteen of Heir to the Shadows. Warning for discussion of sexual assault and violence. Sometimes c/p'ing sections of Anne Bishop's dialogue and text makes me want to cry. Part 3 of plot. Parts one and two found here.]

Karla entered the dining room, still a little stiff from the workout. The first hour she'd spent in the tub had helped relax her, but the twenty minute catnap she'd taken (while still in the tub) had stiffened her muscles up again. It had taken her several minutes to descend the grand staircase to the ground floor and she didn't even want to discuss how long it had taken her to get dressed for dinner. ( She was still trying to decide just how stupid she was for letting her pride dictate heading to the dining hall instead of asking for dinner on a tray. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is love. Text adapted from Chapter 11, Part 1 of Heir to the Shadows by Anne Bishop. This brief canon catch-up brought to you by Lunacon and sleepiness. Over and Karla will be back on Monday.]

The reaction from the Dark Council was not long in coming. The mood in the Hall was somber even before the missive was opened. Had Magstrom been able to sway them to accept Saetan as Jaenelle’s guardian, the missive would have never reached them as quickly. Days would have passed as they argued over it, figuring out concessions they could demand for the ‘privilege’ of keeping a father with the daughter of his soul. The missive was short, blunt, and to the point. The Council demanded that Jaenelle and Uncle Saetan present themselves before them the very next day. ( ‘To appoint a new guardian’ was not written anywhere, but the cold and austere language left no doubt. )

[NFI, NFB, you know the drill. Sorry about the issues I'm having with posting things on time here. Con-dead brain is stupid. Should only be three more posts left: one during the actual Dark Council meeting, one for the aftermath, and one where Karla explains to Jaenelle she wants to stay in Kaeleer. Mwahahahaha]

Part One

The front door slammed. Karla sauntered into the Hall, whistling and projecting ‘innocent’ with all the force that she could muster. She’d shoved her hands in her pockets and had adopted the blithe swagger of someone who had been behaving the entire day and hadn’t been outside trying a new Craft experiment. And most certainly had no knowledge of or responsibility for the new crater that was currently gouged in one of the Hall’s ornamental gardens.

Uncle Saetan was far too canny to be fooled by something like whistling, especially when he couldn’t actually see the blithe swagger at work. Saetan whistled a sharp command summoning her into a formal drawing room off the great hall. Odd. She nodded to Beale on her way in. There was no convenient mirror next to the drawing room, but there were several plants that apparently needed careful pruning.

( A moment later, Karla stuck her head around the corner. )


(Part One of Two. NFB, NFI, OOC=pie. Adapted from chapter eight of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows. Sorry up so late!)