The Witch King, Part 2, PG-13
Sunday, July 9th, 2006 03:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoWell, it only took me *mumble*mumble* days after I said I would have it done, but I finished the second part. I still may do some rewrites on the second scene, but I'm happy with the first scene. What I'm really proud of is that the second part is just a few paragraphs longer than the first part. Usually the parts keep getting longer as I go. This one is behaving.
I have either one or two more parts to go. Depends on how the next part goes.
I apologize about the cliff hanger. No one ever said I wasn't evil.
Part 1
"If I hear my advisors complaining about how I'm neglecting my duty one more time, I will personally castrate them all," Amick snarled. He was pacing around the confines of his room, having already thrown everything that wasn't breakable against a wall. It hadn't helped.
Nyx was leaning against the wall in question, his head tilted back, and his eyes closed. He would occasionally make a noise of agreement or offer a dry observation. Mostly he just listened.
"I know about the damn Western Bridge. Until the thaw hits the mountains, there isn't any granite suitable for repairing it," Amick growled. "I'm not going to use magic every time some farmer pisses and moans about having to travel two miles down river to use the ford."
"But you could use your magic to repair the bridge?" Nyx asked. The dragon had been subdued ever since Amick had so forcibly reminded him of who was in control. Instead of challenging him head on, Nyx was using reason to make him question himself. It didn't help that Amick was more than a little shamed at his outburst.
The way the dragon turned the situation to his advantage would piss Amick off more if he wasn't so damn impressed by it.
"I could, but I won't." Amick picked a book off of his desk, and slammed it down. The noise it made was incredibly satisfying. "I refuse to give in."
"Petty," Nyx said
"Effective." Amick threw himself down on his bed, belly first. The linens on his bed were cool and familiar, smelling faintly of the herbs the serving women used when they were in storage. He closed his eyes and reveled in the way they felt. "Come here."
The dragon had always walked with the softest of steps, so it didn't phase Amick at all that he didn't hear Nyx move. Next thing he knew, the bed was dipping underneath Nyx's weight. He felt the heat coming off of his bodyguard.
"Amick?"
It was so rare that Nyx actually used his name. More often than not, he called him "Master," somehow turning the title into an insult. Amick always felt a little more generous when Nyx called him by his name.
"You have my permission," Amick said.
Seconds later, the dragon's fingers were in his short cropped hair, his nails scratching against Amick's scalp. He sighed. The dragon's hands moved down, kneading at muscles tight with tension. Even through his shirt, the spells etched onto his back woke. Somehow the electric change was soothing rather than disquieting.
The dragon had claws, but Nyx was always mindful of them when touching him. There was no way to tell how much was from the spells, the ones that prevents his bodyguard from hurting him, and how much was from affection.
Amick wished that he knew what Nyx was thinking. When he was young and stupid, he'd gone through the entire library looking for a spell to be able to completely read the dragon. He'd failed. There were none.
Emotions, as long as they were strong enough, could be channeled through bindings. They manifested on his skin like sensations, and over the years Amick had learned to read them. To read Nyx.
But thoughts? Those were too tangled up in wild magic, to capricious to be ordered, measured, and controlled. No one had come up with a spell. Most authors were sure that there wasn't any way to come up with a spell, and even if there was, it would require too much wild magic. There was too much danger that it would begin to corrupt the wielder.
Amick had left it at that, focusing his time and energy on more pressing matters. Now he wished he'd at least tried, and rules against wild magic be damned.
"It's not like you to be this tense just from an advisor's meeting," Nyx said as his fingers dug into a particularly painful knot. Amick made a sound of approval. Nyx was humming under his breath as he worked until Amick was pliant under his hands.
He couldn't tell the dragon the real reason he had heaved things across the room like a five year old having a temper tantrum had nothing to do with the advisors. The chatelaine, an older woman who had been under his father and still had loyalty to his family, had pulled him aside after the meeting with his advisors. He'd waved Nyx on. There was nothing to fear from the old woman
There are rumor, Lord Amick. Rumors about you and your bodyguard. They say you're using the dragon to pull wild magic and the proof is written on your skin. I have always been loyal to your family. Please tell me it isn't true.
He'd told her what she wanted to hear and sent the woman on her way. It left a cold pit in his stomach. If even his servants suspected wild magic, then the advisors had to know. They wouldn't let this go on for much longer. Soon they would move against him.
Amick had to let Nyx go and it made him feel trapped, caged.
It was already too late for him. He hadn't pulled any wild magic, it had just seeped into him through the bindings. No one would believe him if he said that it was an accident. At this point, the only thing he could do was make sure Nyx was safe.
"Stop thinking," the dragon growled. "You're tensing up again."
Instead of listening, Amick rolled over. His side was pressed against Nyx. The dragon looked down at him, one pale eyebrow cocked up in question. "Nyx..."
Something in his tone of voice must have reached the dragon. His blue eyes suddenly looked very serious. "What is it?"
"Thank you," Amick said. He sat up, leaned forward, and brushed his lips against Nyx's. The dragon pulled back, looking like Amick had just smacked him up side the head. Flummoxed. Pole axed. Amick took advantage of it to speak the words of a spell.
The lines on his calve flared to life. Nyx didn't even have time to struggle, just long enough for the bindings on his arm to flare with rage/disbelief, before the dragon was out cold. Amick pushed himself out of bed, angry at himself and the world. He hated this.
"It's done now." Nyx didn't look asleep. He was too still for that. Amick wandered over and laid his fingers against the dragon's white blonde hair. "I'm sorry."
Sigils and lines across his shoulder blades arced to life, soaking up the power Amick pulled from the earth. Transporting was always a complex spell, which is why it took up the breadth of his shoulders. Even this had been infected by wild magic. The power danced and bucked against Amick's control, trying to break free.
By the time Nyx was gone, Amick was sweating and panting. Wild magic was called that for a reason. It was too uncontrollable to be used reliably. That's why witches drew their strength from the land.
Oh well. Amick was done using it now. He had transported nyx the edge of the Black Forest, figuring it was close enough to the mountains where the white dragon had been captured for Nyx to find his way home. Nyx would sleep through the worst part
If only Amick was so lucky.
***
Two hours later, Amick thought he was going to be sick. Again. It wasn't working. He was sitting in a chair by the fire, poker still in his hand. It. Was. Not. Working.
On his arm, in stark blue, the lines of the bindings had morphed into the filigree of wild magic. He'd tried using magic to get it off. He'd tried a knife, but the wound had healed without a scar. Amick had even tried burning it off with a hot poker. He'd passed out from the pain, from the smell of burning flesh, only to come to without a mark on him.
Too late. Amick couldn't break the bindings. All he'd succeeded in doing was stripping the power from his own magic and feeding it into the wild magic.
"Isn't it awfully late for you to be up, your majesty?"
Amick jerked in his chair, one hand tightening around the poker and the other hand pulling down the sleeve of his tunic. He hadn't even heard his advisor open the door. His heart was racing. "I don't believe I gave you permission to enter Mallen."
"You didn't. I took it upon myself to enter," Mallen said. Amick rose up out of his chair, ignoring the way the world still spun slightly. His advisor stood halfway across the room, flanked by two senior level witches and backed by entire division of the guard. "I have come to relieve you of your crown."
"On what grounds?" Amick hissed. Playing stupid might buy him a few minutes. Those few minutes might buy him a chance to use the magic inked onto his skin.
"Wild magic," Mallen said seconds before the air lit with power.
The two witches were fast, but Amick was faster. This was his land, his kingdom. He knew the way power flowed better than anyone. Sigils flared to life as he reached and channeled power from the land into himself.
Only something was wrong.
The power that came to his call bucked and writhed in his grasp, like an unbroken stallion. One second he was sure it would destroy the castle walls, grind the very stones to into earth. The next second he knew that if he let go the walls would be turned to fine marble, the iron transformed into purest gold. It twisted back on itself forming possibilities and probabilities that were near impossible.
Even if every single one of his people held him in contempt, Amick could not let such magic loose on his kingdom. He had a duty to protect even if it meant his life. Instead of letting the spell go, Amick set about returning the power to the earth.
It was never as easy to return power as it was to call it, doubly so when the spell fought every step of the way. If Amick had been even one bit less skilled he would have failed sending power every where. As it was, some escaped and gouged deep furrows in the wall of his room like a giant beast.
So much of his concentration was focused inside, that Amick wasn't even aware of what was going on around him. He came back to himself with a start. The first of the witches almost had the collar around his neck. Amick reacted by slamming the still warm poker into his head. The witch went down screaming.
"Guards!" Mallen shouted. A dozen hands grabbed at him, prying the poker from his hand and forcing him to the floor. Amick fought the entire way. Physical strength had never been his forte, but he didn't dare call upon magic again. It was too risky.
In the end it took three guards to hold him down as the other witch closed the collar around his neck. The lost of his power was a hollow ache that spread through his body. Bastards. Amick ignored the knee in the middle of his back and spat at his former advisor.
"How did you know?" Amick demanded, as if he still had the authority to issue orders.
As if summoned by his words, Ingraine stepped into the room. She moved to stand beside Mallen. Her lips curled upward in disgust. Amick remembered her touching his arm, her fingers tracing over the bindings on his skin.
"Vapid whore," Amick snarled.
"Obnoxious prick," Ingrained snapped back. All of her coquettish demeanor was gone. "I could smell the stink of wild magic on you from across the room."
"Children," Mallen said. "Lady Ingraine was more than happy to aid us in detecting a suspected wild witch." It took Amick a few seconds to realize his ex-advisor was referring to him. "You have more important things to worry about than the fair lady."
"Like what?" But Amick already knew the answer. He was dead.
"Like how we are going to sever your ties to the earth and let your spells destroy you from the inside out."
The more I write about Amick, the more I like him. He's exactly like how I planned him to be, yet at the same time totally different.
I have either one or two more parts to go. Depends on how the next part goes.
I apologize about the cliff hanger. No one ever said I wasn't evil.
Part 1
"If I hear my advisors complaining about how I'm neglecting my duty one more time, I will personally castrate them all," Amick snarled. He was pacing around the confines of his room, having already thrown everything that wasn't breakable against a wall. It hadn't helped.
Nyx was leaning against the wall in question, his head tilted back, and his eyes closed. He would occasionally make a noise of agreement or offer a dry observation. Mostly he just listened.
"I know about the damn Western Bridge. Until the thaw hits the mountains, there isn't any granite suitable for repairing it," Amick growled. "I'm not going to use magic every time some farmer pisses and moans about having to travel two miles down river to use the ford."
"But you could use your magic to repair the bridge?" Nyx asked. The dragon had been subdued ever since Amick had so forcibly reminded him of who was in control. Instead of challenging him head on, Nyx was using reason to make him question himself. It didn't help that Amick was more than a little shamed at his outburst.
The way the dragon turned the situation to his advantage would piss Amick off more if he wasn't so damn impressed by it.
"I could, but I won't." Amick picked a book off of his desk, and slammed it down. The noise it made was incredibly satisfying. "I refuse to give in."
"Petty," Nyx said
"Effective." Amick threw himself down on his bed, belly first. The linens on his bed were cool and familiar, smelling faintly of the herbs the serving women used when they were in storage. He closed his eyes and reveled in the way they felt. "Come here."
The dragon had always walked with the softest of steps, so it didn't phase Amick at all that he didn't hear Nyx move. Next thing he knew, the bed was dipping underneath Nyx's weight. He felt the heat coming off of his bodyguard.
"Amick?"
It was so rare that Nyx actually used his name. More often than not, he called him "Master," somehow turning the title into an insult. Amick always felt a little more generous when Nyx called him by his name.
"You have my permission," Amick said.
Seconds later, the dragon's fingers were in his short cropped hair, his nails scratching against Amick's scalp. He sighed. The dragon's hands moved down, kneading at muscles tight with tension. Even through his shirt, the spells etched onto his back woke. Somehow the electric change was soothing rather than disquieting.
The dragon had claws, but Nyx was always mindful of them when touching him. There was no way to tell how much was from the spells, the ones that prevents his bodyguard from hurting him, and how much was from affection.
Amick wished that he knew what Nyx was thinking. When he was young and stupid, he'd gone through the entire library looking for a spell to be able to completely read the dragon. He'd failed. There were none.
Emotions, as long as they were strong enough, could be channeled through bindings. They manifested on his skin like sensations, and over the years Amick had learned to read them. To read Nyx.
But thoughts? Those were too tangled up in wild magic, to capricious to be ordered, measured, and controlled. No one had come up with a spell. Most authors were sure that there wasn't any way to come up with a spell, and even if there was, it would require too much wild magic. There was too much danger that it would begin to corrupt the wielder.
Amick had left it at that, focusing his time and energy on more pressing matters. Now he wished he'd at least tried, and rules against wild magic be damned.
"It's not like you to be this tense just from an advisor's meeting," Nyx said as his fingers dug into a particularly painful knot. Amick made a sound of approval. Nyx was humming under his breath as he worked until Amick was pliant under his hands.
He couldn't tell the dragon the real reason he had heaved things across the room like a five year old having a temper tantrum had nothing to do with the advisors. The chatelaine, an older woman who had been under his father and still had loyalty to his family, had pulled him aside after the meeting with his advisors. He'd waved Nyx on. There was nothing to fear from the old woman
There are rumor, Lord Amick. Rumors about you and your bodyguard. They say you're using the dragon to pull wild magic and the proof is written on your skin. I have always been loyal to your family. Please tell me it isn't true.
He'd told her what she wanted to hear and sent the woman on her way. It left a cold pit in his stomach. If even his servants suspected wild magic, then the advisors had to know. They wouldn't let this go on for much longer. Soon they would move against him.
Amick had to let Nyx go and it made him feel trapped, caged.
It was already too late for him. He hadn't pulled any wild magic, it had just seeped into him through the bindings. No one would believe him if he said that it was an accident. At this point, the only thing he could do was make sure Nyx was safe.
"Stop thinking," the dragon growled. "You're tensing up again."
Instead of listening, Amick rolled over. His side was pressed against Nyx. The dragon looked down at him, one pale eyebrow cocked up in question. "Nyx..."
Something in his tone of voice must have reached the dragon. His blue eyes suddenly looked very serious. "What is it?"
"Thank you," Amick said. He sat up, leaned forward, and brushed his lips against Nyx's. The dragon pulled back, looking like Amick had just smacked him up side the head. Flummoxed. Pole axed. Amick took advantage of it to speak the words of a spell.
The lines on his calve flared to life. Nyx didn't even have time to struggle, just long enough for the bindings on his arm to flare with rage/disbelief, before the dragon was out cold. Amick pushed himself out of bed, angry at himself and the world. He hated this.
"It's done now." Nyx didn't look asleep. He was too still for that. Amick wandered over and laid his fingers against the dragon's white blonde hair. "I'm sorry."
Sigils and lines across his shoulder blades arced to life, soaking up the power Amick pulled from the earth. Transporting was always a complex spell, which is why it took up the breadth of his shoulders. Even this had been infected by wild magic. The power danced and bucked against Amick's control, trying to break free.
By the time Nyx was gone, Amick was sweating and panting. Wild magic was called that for a reason. It was too uncontrollable to be used reliably. That's why witches drew their strength from the land.
Oh well. Amick was done using it now. He had transported nyx the edge of the Black Forest, figuring it was close enough to the mountains where the white dragon had been captured for Nyx to find his way home. Nyx would sleep through the worst part
If only Amick was so lucky.
***
Two hours later, Amick thought he was going to be sick. Again. It wasn't working. He was sitting in a chair by the fire, poker still in his hand. It. Was. Not. Working.
On his arm, in stark blue, the lines of the bindings had morphed into the filigree of wild magic. He'd tried using magic to get it off. He'd tried a knife, but the wound had healed without a scar. Amick had even tried burning it off with a hot poker. He'd passed out from the pain, from the smell of burning flesh, only to come to without a mark on him.
Too late. Amick couldn't break the bindings. All he'd succeeded in doing was stripping the power from his own magic and feeding it into the wild magic.
"Isn't it awfully late for you to be up, your majesty?"
Amick jerked in his chair, one hand tightening around the poker and the other hand pulling down the sleeve of his tunic. He hadn't even heard his advisor open the door. His heart was racing. "I don't believe I gave you permission to enter Mallen."
"You didn't. I took it upon myself to enter," Mallen said. Amick rose up out of his chair, ignoring the way the world still spun slightly. His advisor stood halfway across the room, flanked by two senior level witches and backed by entire division of the guard. "I have come to relieve you of your crown."
"On what grounds?" Amick hissed. Playing stupid might buy him a few minutes. Those few minutes might buy him a chance to use the magic inked onto his skin.
"Wild magic," Mallen said seconds before the air lit with power.
The two witches were fast, but Amick was faster. This was his land, his kingdom. He knew the way power flowed better than anyone. Sigils flared to life as he reached and channeled power from the land into himself.
Only something was wrong.
The power that came to his call bucked and writhed in his grasp, like an unbroken stallion. One second he was sure it would destroy the castle walls, grind the very stones to into earth. The next second he knew that if he let go the walls would be turned to fine marble, the iron transformed into purest gold. It twisted back on itself forming possibilities and probabilities that were near impossible.
Even if every single one of his people held him in contempt, Amick could not let such magic loose on his kingdom. He had a duty to protect even if it meant his life. Instead of letting the spell go, Amick set about returning the power to the earth.
It was never as easy to return power as it was to call it, doubly so when the spell fought every step of the way. If Amick had been even one bit less skilled he would have failed sending power every where. As it was, some escaped and gouged deep furrows in the wall of his room like a giant beast.
So much of his concentration was focused inside, that Amick wasn't even aware of what was going on around him. He came back to himself with a start. The first of the witches almost had the collar around his neck. Amick reacted by slamming the still warm poker into his head. The witch went down screaming.
"Guards!" Mallen shouted. A dozen hands grabbed at him, prying the poker from his hand and forcing him to the floor. Amick fought the entire way. Physical strength had never been his forte, but he didn't dare call upon magic again. It was too risky.
In the end it took three guards to hold him down as the other witch closed the collar around his neck. The lost of his power was a hollow ache that spread through his body. Bastards. Amick ignored the knee in the middle of his back and spat at his former advisor.
"How did you know?" Amick demanded, as if he still had the authority to issue orders.
As if summoned by his words, Ingraine stepped into the room. She moved to stand beside Mallen. Her lips curled upward in disgust. Amick remembered her touching his arm, her fingers tracing over the bindings on his skin.
"Vapid whore," Amick snarled.
"Obnoxious prick," Ingrained snapped back. All of her coquettish demeanor was gone. "I could smell the stink of wild magic on you from across the room."
"Children," Mallen said. "Lady Ingraine was more than happy to aid us in detecting a suspected wild witch." It took Amick a few seconds to realize his ex-advisor was referring to him. "You have more important things to worry about than the fair lady."
"Like what?" But Amick already knew the answer. He was dead.
"Like how we are going to sever your ties to the earth and let your spells destroy you from the inside out."
The more I write about Amick, the more I like him. He's exactly like how I planned him to be, yet at the same time totally different.
