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seren_ccdChapter Three: The storm made bliss of my sea-borne awakenings.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Underworld/BtVS
Pairing: Lucian and Tara
Word Count: 3040
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it. The title and chapter titles are from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, The Drunken Boat.
Summary: "Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all." The grin on Lucian's face was positively feral.
A/N: I've taken taken various ideas from Norse mythology and have applied them here. Odin was real, the story I created using him is not. I'm having a lot fun with this story. I'd love to know what you think.
The wind rushed through his fur as Lucian tore down the side of the mountain. His paws and claws hitting the ground in loud thumps and dirt and gravel sprayed behind him as he gained in speed. With a powerful leap, the lycan jumped the remaining distance to land heavily on the grass. He barely paused at the landing and continued to run full out. The sun beat down upon his body and Lucian felt his jaws grin and his tongue loll as he panted with exertion.
His eyes found a target standing several yards away watching him. He bent his head down and barreled towards the small figure. The wolf charged and at the very last minute the figure disappeared just as Lucian reached her. He smelled the lavender she left in her wake.
Lucian growled happily and slowed his run down and looked around to find his prey.
Tara stood several yards behind him, hands on her hips and head tilted with an exasperated smile on her face.
"You're just big old puppy aren't you?" she called to him.
He shook himself all over. Tara laughed. Lucian stood upright and began to transform back into human form. Tara realized what he was doing, and was suddenly aware he was going to be naked when he finished, turned around quickly. Even in death, the flush filled her face.
"I'm decent now," he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice.
"That's probably the last word I'd use to describe you," she said turning around. Lucian stood there in his usual brown leather trousers and loose black shirt. Tara spared a moment to wonder once again why their subconscious always saw fit to return them to the clothes they were most comfortable in. She herself was dressed in a long skirt and fitted t-shirt. It occurred to her that they made the oddest looking partnership and choked back a small chuckle at the thought.
"What brings you here?" he asked. Tara smiled and looked down at the ground.
"I'm not completely sure," she said. "I sensed you were incredibly happy and moving at a great speed." She shrugged. "I couldn't help myself."
"So, the truth comes out," Lucian grinned at her. "You just can't resist my animal magnetism."
"As if!" she retorted in a fake Valley Girl accent. They began to walk together through the field. Tara breathed in the smell of earth and oak. The air was crisp and clean, with a hint of snow on the way.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"The Bukk Mountains, in Hungary," Lucian replied. "The other side of the country from where I served the coven. I remember travelling through here once and having wished I could've run free, instead of leading a caravan."
They strolled quietly taking in the natural peace of the area. Lucian no longer had any real sense of time. They had been on several more assignments, some as simple as moving someone into the path of another, some as difficult as preventing an accident. He often thought to himself to rebel, to scream and curse the sky and heavens that he could not be allowed any rest. Why was he Chosen for this endless task of watching others as they made history. He succumbed from time to time to standing in the shadows watching his old pack as they came and went and tried to put their lives back together. Lucian sensed the futility of this, his observing, but could not let go quite that easily.
"It's the most amazing thing," he said thoughtfully. "When I was alive all I could think about was death. And now that I'm dead, all I can think about is life. The life I could have had. Life with Sonja, perhaps. Life outside of the pack."
Tara nodded in understanding.
"It was never to be," he said with a sardonic grin. "I think I knew that, even when I held her for the first time in my arms."
"It was hard for me to let go too and I was a fraction of your age when I died," Tara said. "I kept going back to check on people, even helped out from time to time, but..."
"One has to let go?" Lucian offered.
"Yes," she said sadly. "One has to let go."
They continued on letting the cold, wild wind through the trees fill the silence.
"Tell me this," Lucian said. "You admit that you were significantly younger than I when you died. Why on earth are you considered the lead partner? I've got far more experience than you in leadership and ordering people about."
"True enough," Tara said. "But I've been dead longer than you have. That gives me automatic seniority."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Lucian said shaking his head. "Apparently bureaucracy exists on all planes, including the spiritual."
"Well, just be thankful -," Tara broke off with a gasp. Lucian turned to her quickly.
"What? Tara?" he asked concerned. As spirits of a sort, they did not experience pain or other mortal ailments, so Lucian was shocked to see Tara in such apparent discomfort.
"Wait," she whispered, one of her hands cupped her forehead, the other circled her stomach and she hunched over as though she were nauseous. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Tara?" Lucian whispered, completely unsure of what do to.
"Oh! I see it!" Tara said harshly. She moved her head like she was following the movement of someone. "Why... She's gone mad?"
All of a sudden, Tara went completely still. Lucian stared at her with wide eyes. He tentatively raised a hand to touch her shoulder, when her eyes opened and she straightened up. His hand flew back to his side and he studied her. She looked exhausted and terribly sad.
"We have our next assignment," Tara said with a heavy voice.
***
"So that's how you know?" Lucian said as they walked quickly through the field. Tara was still a bit shaky and didn't quite have enough equilibrium for a jump. "They send you visions?"
"Yes," Tara said with a sigh. "They just come. There's generally no warning or even a pattern."
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly and not looking at her. Tara snuck a glance at his stony face. As usual, he gave nothing away.
"No," she said. "It can be overwhelming and abrupt, but not painful. It is for the humans They send them to."
"Humans?" Lucian asked finally turning to look at her. "They send visions to humans?"
"Of course," Tara said. "Surely you've heard of prophets through out the years? Same thing."
"I met one once," he said. "Or at least a man who claimed he was a prophet. He told me my campaign would be victorious but with filled with great pain."
Lucian chuckled wryly. "He was right it seems."
"Well, the Powers have always tried to guide and manipulate things to follow Their needs," Tara said. "The visions They send are terribly painful to humans. Almost seizure inducing."
"Where do we have to go?" Lucian asked.
"Denmark," Tara said. "It wasn't completely clear, but there is something that is terrorizing a small fishing village on one of the islands. Apparently, we have to stop it."
Lucian looked at her eagerly and Tara noticed a gleam had come into his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all."
The grin on his face was positively feral.
***
Lucian and Tara appeared on the west end of the island. The village lay a few hundred yards away, they could see the buildings in the distance. The wind had picked up and the only sound was the lapping of the water on the shore. The island was one of the smaller and the furthest from the mainland and the only way to reach the island was on a ferry. A small mountain range dominated the majority of the island and they tapered off to create a small flatland and natural harbour. The mountain were green and the first impression of the village in the distance was that it was cheerfully painted in the bright colors often found in seaside towns. Seagulls cried out overhead and oily black cormorants sat on an decrepit pier, their wings outstretched in the act of drying themselves.
The boats in the harbour drifted and bobbed silently, moored to sea floor by their anchors. The dock that housed the ferry was blocked off with a large warning sign pasted across the departure and arrival times, obviously cancelling the service. As they approached the village, they realized what was missing.
Life.
Quite a few of the houses and buildings appeared locked and boarded up, hardly anyone was in the street. Lucian looked around and judged that it had to be late in the afternoon, and yet, only a dozen people seemed to inhabit the place.
"A ghost town," Tara murmured. Lucian glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.
"Pardon the pun," she said. He smirked but tightened his fists and for the first time wished he had his sword.
"What did you see exactly?" Lucian asked in a low voice.
"I saw a form, a woman I think," Tara said as they walked past a cafe with it's lights off and the Closed sign hanging at a half hazard angle. "She appeared to be attacking a young man. I got a flash of a battlefield, and then another vision of the form as she stood surrounded by larger forms. She appears to be targeting young men."
Tara shuddered. "There was such an aura of madness and desperation and sheer violence in what she was doing. And what she wanted to do."
"What does she do?" he asked. His eyes swept over the streets.
"She... She pulls them," Tara said quietly.
"Pulls them?" Lucian repeated. "What do you mean?"
"She just pulls something out of them that kills them," she said. "I can't explain it, it wasn't completely clear."
"Hmmm," Lucian said. He walked over and picked up a discarded newspaper lodged against the wall. He quickly read the main story. Tara peered over his shoulder.
"It's in Danish," she said.
"Yes," he said absently. "It appears the village had lost around a dozen men, ages range from thirteen to thirty. They believed it to be a kind of virus that attacked the nervous system and effectively drained the men of energy and caused their muscles to seize. They just gave up after a day or so of unbelievable pain. One gentleman was found simply dead on the ground. No one could, of course, put a name to the condition."
"Of course they couldn't. Because it isn't a medical problem. That would make sense with what I've seen from the visions," Tara said. "It was at night, very dark. Does it say where they may have come down with it? At their homes?"
Lucian scanned the article. "Actually, it says that seven of the men were found on a hill nearby, already having seizures. And no one can account for them being there. "
He looked up from the paper and gazed around the village and took in the dark windows.
"I was never one for ghost stories," he said firmly.
"Ironic that," Tara said. "What else does it say?"
"What? Can't you read Danish?" he teased. Tara glared. "Nothing more about the lads, apparently the last one died very quickly and the Town Council is considering closing the ferry service and quarantining the community."
Lucian flipped the paper to read the date. "That was three days ago."
"They moved pretty quickly," Tara mused. "What hill was it?"
"The Rød Holl," he said, his eyes already attempting to seek it out amongst the landscape. "The Red Hill."
"Well, that sounds appropriately ominous," she said, her own eyes looking over the terrain.
"Come," Lucian said. "We need a map."
"Lead on, milord," Tara said with a slight bow of her head. Lucian spared her a quick grin and they walked down the street.
Most of the shops were closed with small handwritten signs on the front doors. A small cafe was open, but only one customer was evident and he was drinking his coffee rapidly. Tara and Lucian walked past a few shops that had obviously been looted, with debris strewn about the sidewalk. The greengrocer's looked completely abandoned. Fruit and vegetables had been left to spoil in the sun still in their crates.
"There is definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark," Lucian murmured.
Tara groaned.
"What? I owed you one for 'ghost town'," he explained. Tara just shook her head.
They approached the town square and found a few more people quickly going about their business and not quite meeting each other's eyes. A few small groups huddled together here and there.
As they moved past one group of women, the oldest of the group was talking hurriedly and harshly. Tara couldn't make out what she was saying and looked at Lucian as they slowed down to listen.
"She's saying that they've locked up all the doors and locked her son in his room," he translated. "She's worried that he will try to sneak out like the others, but she plans to sit up outside his door tonight."
"That makes it sound like they are compelled to leave," Tara said as they started walking again. "There could be a compulsion spell at work."
"A spell?" Lucian said with undisguised derision. "As in magic? Unlikely."
Tara came to a complete halt and stared at him.
"You don't believe in magic," she stated flatly.
"Not particularly," he said. "Certainly not in spells and bubbling cauldrons."
Tara found herself actually struck with the urge to smack him upside the head.
"You. A being who can transform into a wolf, who grew up in a coven of vampires, does not believe in magic?"
Confused, Lucian looked at her.
"I believe that there are certain properties in the world that can be manipulated through unconventional means and that some possess powers that allow them to move things about and I certainly believe in herb lore, but magic? In the sparkly sense?" he shook his head. "In all my years, I haven't come across it."
"Really? Not once?" It was Tara's turn to shake her head. "I find that very hard to believe. Magic is everywhere. Perhaps, you just chose not to see it."
"Perhaps I didn't see it because it wasn't there," he retorted, but was beginning to question his resolve in the face of Tara's conviction.
Tara huffed and continued on her way out of the square and up a winding path out of the village towards the hills. Lucian followed her, unsettled by their conversation. He re-focused on the hills in front of him and something struck his eye. He put his hand on Tara's arm and stopped her.
"Look, do you see?" he pointed at one of the lower hills that seemed to have a plateau at it's top. The wind had picked up and the heather growing on the hill was undulating slowly in the breeze. The winter sun was beginning to set despite the earliness of the hour.
The sunlight hitting the heather caused the brush to reflect a rusty red, the hill itself appeared to flush in the dimming light.
"Red Hill," Tara whispered.
"Rød Holl," Lucian corrected. Tara rolled her eyes and they began to walk towards the hill. They climbed the small uneven path in silence, until Lucian decided to voice the question that had been burning in his mind since he first met her.
"Tara?" Lucian asked hesitantly. "Out of curiosity, what was it you did before you died?"
Tara smirked over her shoulder at him and her blue eyes sparkled with a golden light as she answered.
"I was a witch."
***
Sunset was nearly upon them as they finally reached the top of the hill. Several large stones stood nearby, including a small plaque firmly set inside the largest stone. The main body of the text was in Danish, but they had also helpfully included a small description in English.
It was a small commemoration of a Great Battle that was rumored to have taken place on this very hill in the early 1100s. Odin himself had supposedly participated and helped the community to defeat the raiders that had come to pillage the small island. All he asked for in exchange for the service was one of the local girls to accompany him and become one of his Valkyries. The girl was very beautiful and kind and the girl's father eagerly agreed and the young woman was swept into the God's arms and they had ridden away together into the sky.
"Typical," Lucian said dryly.
"Why is she always the most beautiful?" Tara mused rhetorically. "Why is she never the most intelligent or the most athletic?"
Lucian chuckled and looked out over the view of the village the hill provided. The light was fading quickly and the two of them watched the as the sun set over the small bay. The sunlight created silhouettes of the other islands and although they themselves could not feel it, the temperature dropped quickly.
"All right," Lucian said quietly. "We wait here to see if anyone from the village appears. If you are correct and magic is being used, will you be able to determine the source?"
"Yes," Tara replied. "I can reveal the caster easily. I should be able to block them for a short while."
"Good. Once we determine the source," Lucian continued. "We'll reconnoiter and determine how best to suppress it and then take it out of commission."
"This is all supposing it's human," Tara pointed out. "I don't think she is."
Lucian pondered this. "I still think it's the best strategy. Even if she is, as you say, not human, we still need to suppress her powers and stop her."
"Fine," Tara said. "I just have a feeling that this may be more difficult that we think."
"Duly noted," Lucian said with a nod.
They walked back over to the rocks and waited.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Underworld/BtVS
Pairing: Lucian and Tara
Word Count: 3040
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn it. The title and chapter titles are from Arthur Rimbaud's poem, The Drunken Boat.
Summary: "Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all." The grin on Lucian's face was positively feral.
A/N: I've taken taken various ideas from Norse mythology and have applied them here. Odin was real, the story I created using him is not. I'm having a lot fun with this story. I'd love to know what you think.
The wind rushed through his fur as Lucian tore down the side of the mountain. His paws and claws hitting the ground in loud thumps and dirt and gravel sprayed behind him as he gained in speed. With a powerful leap, the lycan jumped the remaining distance to land heavily on the grass. He barely paused at the landing and continued to run full out. The sun beat down upon his body and Lucian felt his jaws grin and his tongue loll as he panted with exertion.
His eyes found a target standing several yards away watching him. He bent his head down and barreled towards the small figure. The wolf charged and at the very last minute the figure disappeared just as Lucian reached her. He smelled the lavender she left in her wake.
Lucian growled happily and slowed his run down and looked around to find his prey.
Tara stood several yards behind him, hands on her hips and head tilted with an exasperated smile on her face.
"You're just big old puppy aren't you?" she called to him.
He shook himself all over. Tara laughed. Lucian stood upright and began to transform back into human form. Tara realized what he was doing, and was suddenly aware he was going to be naked when he finished, turned around quickly. Even in death, the flush filled her face.
"I'm decent now," he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice.
"That's probably the last word I'd use to describe you," she said turning around. Lucian stood there in his usual brown leather trousers and loose black shirt. Tara spared a moment to wonder once again why their subconscious always saw fit to return them to the clothes they were most comfortable in. She herself was dressed in a long skirt and fitted t-shirt. It occurred to her that they made the oddest looking partnership and choked back a small chuckle at the thought.
"What brings you here?" he asked. Tara smiled and looked down at the ground.
"I'm not completely sure," she said. "I sensed you were incredibly happy and moving at a great speed." She shrugged. "I couldn't help myself."
"So, the truth comes out," Lucian grinned at her. "You just can't resist my animal magnetism."
"As if!" she retorted in a fake Valley Girl accent. They began to walk together through the field. Tara breathed in the smell of earth and oak. The air was crisp and clean, with a hint of snow on the way.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"The Bukk Mountains, in Hungary," Lucian replied. "The other side of the country from where I served the coven. I remember travelling through here once and having wished I could've run free, instead of leading a caravan."
They strolled quietly taking in the natural peace of the area. Lucian no longer had any real sense of time. They had been on several more assignments, some as simple as moving someone into the path of another, some as difficult as preventing an accident. He often thought to himself to rebel, to scream and curse the sky and heavens that he could not be allowed any rest. Why was he Chosen for this endless task of watching others as they made history. He succumbed from time to time to standing in the shadows watching his old pack as they came and went and tried to put their lives back together. Lucian sensed the futility of this, his observing, but could not let go quite that easily.
"It's the most amazing thing," he said thoughtfully. "When I was alive all I could think about was death. And now that I'm dead, all I can think about is life. The life I could have had. Life with Sonja, perhaps. Life outside of the pack."
Tara nodded in understanding.
"It was never to be," he said with a sardonic grin. "I think I knew that, even when I held her for the first time in my arms."
"It was hard for me to let go too and I was a fraction of your age when I died," Tara said. "I kept going back to check on people, even helped out from time to time, but..."
"One has to let go?" Lucian offered.
"Yes," she said sadly. "One has to let go."
They continued on letting the cold, wild wind through the trees fill the silence.
"Tell me this," Lucian said. "You admit that you were significantly younger than I when you died. Why on earth are you considered the lead partner? I've got far more experience than you in leadership and ordering people about."
"True enough," Tara said. "But I've been dead longer than you have. That gives me automatic seniority."
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Lucian said shaking his head. "Apparently bureaucracy exists on all planes, including the spiritual."
"Well, just be thankful -," Tara broke off with a gasp. Lucian turned to her quickly.
"What? Tara?" he asked concerned. As spirits of a sort, they did not experience pain or other mortal ailments, so Lucian was shocked to see Tara in such apparent discomfort.
"Wait," she whispered, one of her hands cupped her forehead, the other circled her stomach and she hunched over as though she were nauseous. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Tara?" Lucian whispered, completely unsure of what do to.
"Oh! I see it!" Tara said harshly. She moved her head like she was following the movement of someone. "Why... She's gone mad?"
All of a sudden, Tara went completely still. Lucian stared at her with wide eyes. He tentatively raised a hand to touch her shoulder, when her eyes opened and she straightened up. His hand flew back to his side and he studied her. She looked exhausted and terribly sad.
"We have our next assignment," Tara said with a heavy voice.
***
"So that's how you know?" Lucian said as they walked quickly through the field. Tara was still a bit shaky and didn't quite have enough equilibrium for a jump. "They send you visions?"
"Yes," Tara said with a sigh. "They just come. There's generally no warning or even a pattern."
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly and not looking at her. Tara snuck a glance at his stony face. As usual, he gave nothing away.
"No," she said. "It can be overwhelming and abrupt, but not painful. It is for the humans They send them to."
"Humans?" Lucian asked finally turning to look at her. "They send visions to humans?"
"Of course," Tara said. "Surely you've heard of prophets through out the years? Same thing."
"I met one once," he said. "Or at least a man who claimed he was a prophet. He told me my campaign would be victorious but with filled with great pain."
Lucian chuckled wryly. "He was right it seems."
"Well, the Powers have always tried to guide and manipulate things to follow Their needs," Tara said. "The visions They send are terribly painful to humans. Almost seizure inducing."
"Where do we have to go?" Lucian asked.
"Denmark," Tara said. "It wasn't completely clear, but there is something that is terrorizing a small fishing village on one of the islands. Apparently, we have to stop it."
Lucian looked at her eagerly and Tara noticed a gleam had come into his eyes.
"Yes," she said. "It looks like you're going to get your battle after all."
The grin on his face was positively feral.
***
Lucian and Tara appeared on the west end of the island. The village lay a few hundred yards away, they could see the buildings in the distance. The wind had picked up and the only sound was the lapping of the water on the shore. The island was one of the smaller and the furthest from the mainland and the only way to reach the island was on a ferry. A small mountain range dominated the majority of the island and they tapered off to create a small flatland and natural harbour. The mountain were green and the first impression of the village in the distance was that it was cheerfully painted in the bright colors often found in seaside towns. Seagulls cried out overhead and oily black cormorants sat on an decrepit pier, their wings outstretched in the act of drying themselves.
The boats in the harbour drifted and bobbed silently, moored to sea floor by their anchors. The dock that housed the ferry was blocked off with a large warning sign pasted across the departure and arrival times, obviously cancelling the service. As they approached the village, they realized what was missing.
Life.
Quite a few of the houses and buildings appeared locked and boarded up, hardly anyone was in the street. Lucian looked around and judged that it had to be late in the afternoon, and yet, only a dozen people seemed to inhabit the place.
"A ghost town," Tara murmured. Lucian glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow. She rolled her eyes.
"Pardon the pun," she said. He smirked but tightened his fists and for the first time wished he had his sword.
"What did you see exactly?" Lucian asked in a low voice.
"I saw a form, a woman I think," Tara said as they walked past a cafe with it's lights off and the Closed sign hanging at a half hazard angle. "She appeared to be attacking a young man. I got a flash of a battlefield, and then another vision of the form as she stood surrounded by larger forms. She appears to be targeting young men."
Tara shuddered. "There was such an aura of madness and desperation and sheer violence in what she was doing. And what she wanted to do."
"What does she do?" he asked. His eyes swept over the streets.
"She... She pulls them," Tara said quietly.
"Pulls them?" Lucian repeated. "What do you mean?"
"She just pulls something out of them that kills them," she said. "I can't explain it, it wasn't completely clear."
"Hmmm," Lucian said. He walked over and picked up a discarded newspaper lodged against the wall. He quickly read the main story. Tara peered over his shoulder.
"It's in Danish," she said.
"Yes," he said absently. "It appears the village had lost around a dozen men, ages range from thirteen to thirty. They believed it to be a kind of virus that attacked the nervous system and effectively drained the men of energy and caused their muscles to seize. They just gave up after a day or so of unbelievable pain. One gentleman was found simply dead on the ground. No one could, of course, put a name to the condition."
"Of course they couldn't. Because it isn't a medical problem. That would make sense with what I've seen from the visions," Tara said. "It was at night, very dark. Does it say where they may have come down with it? At their homes?"
Lucian scanned the article. "Actually, it says that seven of the men were found on a hill nearby, already having seizures. And no one can account for them being there. "
He looked up from the paper and gazed around the village and took in the dark windows.
"I was never one for ghost stories," he said firmly.
"Ironic that," Tara said. "What else does it say?"
"What? Can't you read Danish?" he teased. Tara glared. "Nothing more about the lads, apparently the last one died very quickly and the Town Council is considering closing the ferry service and quarantining the community."
Lucian flipped the paper to read the date. "That was three days ago."
"They moved pretty quickly," Tara mused. "What hill was it?"
"The Rød Holl," he said, his eyes already attempting to seek it out amongst the landscape. "The Red Hill."
"Well, that sounds appropriately ominous," she said, her own eyes looking over the terrain.
"Come," Lucian said. "We need a map."
"Lead on, milord," Tara said with a slight bow of her head. Lucian spared her a quick grin and they walked down the street.
Most of the shops were closed with small handwritten signs on the front doors. A small cafe was open, but only one customer was evident and he was drinking his coffee rapidly. Tara and Lucian walked past a few shops that had obviously been looted, with debris strewn about the sidewalk. The greengrocer's looked completely abandoned. Fruit and vegetables had been left to spoil in the sun still in their crates.
"There is definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark," Lucian murmured.
Tara groaned.
"What? I owed you one for 'ghost town'," he explained. Tara just shook her head.
They approached the town square and found a few more people quickly going about their business and not quite meeting each other's eyes. A few small groups huddled together here and there.
As they moved past one group of women, the oldest of the group was talking hurriedly and harshly. Tara couldn't make out what she was saying and looked at Lucian as they slowed down to listen.
"She's saying that they've locked up all the doors and locked her son in his room," he translated. "She's worried that he will try to sneak out like the others, but she plans to sit up outside his door tonight."
"That makes it sound like they are compelled to leave," Tara said as they started walking again. "There could be a compulsion spell at work."
"A spell?" Lucian said with undisguised derision. "As in magic? Unlikely."
Tara came to a complete halt and stared at him.
"You don't believe in magic," she stated flatly.
"Not particularly," he said. "Certainly not in spells and bubbling cauldrons."
Tara found herself actually struck with the urge to smack him upside the head.
"You. A being who can transform into a wolf, who grew up in a coven of vampires, does not believe in magic?"
Confused, Lucian looked at her.
"I believe that there are certain properties in the world that can be manipulated through unconventional means and that some possess powers that allow them to move things about and I certainly believe in herb lore, but magic? In the sparkly sense?" he shook his head. "In all my years, I haven't come across it."
"Really? Not once?" It was Tara's turn to shake her head. "I find that very hard to believe. Magic is everywhere. Perhaps, you just chose not to see it."
"Perhaps I didn't see it because it wasn't there," he retorted, but was beginning to question his resolve in the face of Tara's conviction.
Tara huffed and continued on her way out of the square and up a winding path out of the village towards the hills. Lucian followed her, unsettled by their conversation. He re-focused on the hills in front of him and something struck his eye. He put his hand on Tara's arm and stopped her.
"Look, do you see?" he pointed at one of the lower hills that seemed to have a plateau at it's top. The wind had picked up and the heather growing on the hill was undulating slowly in the breeze. The winter sun was beginning to set despite the earliness of the hour.
The sunlight hitting the heather caused the brush to reflect a rusty red, the hill itself appeared to flush in the dimming light.
"Red Hill," Tara whispered.
"Rød Holl," Lucian corrected. Tara rolled her eyes and they began to walk towards the hill. They climbed the small uneven path in silence, until Lucian decided to voice the question that had been burning in his mind since he first met her.
"Tara?" Lucian asked hesitantly. "Out of curiosity, what was it you did before you died?"
Tara smirked over her shoulder at him and her blue eyes sparkled with a golden light as she answered.
"I was a witch."
***
Sunset was nearly upon them as they finally reached the top of the hill. Several large stones stood nearby, including a small plaque firmly set inside the largest stone. The main body of the text was in Danish, but they had also helpfully included a small description in English.
It was a small commemoration of a Great Battle that was rumored to have taken place on this very hill in the early 1100s. Odin himself had supposedly participated and helped the community to defeat the raiders that had come to pillage the small island. All he asked for in exchange for the service was one of the local girls to accompany him and become one of his Valkyries. The girl was very beautiful and kind and the girl's father eagerly agreed and the young woman was swept into the God's arms and they had ridden away together into the sky.
"Typical," Lucian said dryly.
"Why is she always the most beautiful?" Tara mused rhetorically. "Why is she never the most intelligent or the most athletic?"
Lucian chuckled and looked out over the view of the village the hill provided. The light was fading quickly and the two of them watched the as the sun set over the small bay. The sunlight created silhouettes of the other islands and although they themselves could not feel it, the temperature dropped quickly.
"All right," Lucian said quietly. "We wait here to see if anyone from the village appears. If you are correct and magic is being used, will you be able to determine the source?"
"Yes," Tara replied. "I can reveal the caster easily. I should be able to block them for a short while."
"Good. Once we determine the source," Lucian continued. "We'll reconnoiter and determine how best to suppress it and then take it out of commission."
"This is all supposing it's human," Tara pointed out. "I don't think she is."
Lucian pondered this. "I still think it's the best strategy. Even if she is, as you say, not human, we still need to suppress her powers and stop her."
"Fine," Tara said. "I just have a feeling that this may be more difficult that we think."
"Duly noted," Lucian said with a nod.
They walked back over to the rocks and waited.
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Date: 2009-02-22 03:19 am (UTC)Thank you for sharing this with us.
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Date: 2009-02-22 10:19 am (UTC)Thank you again for commenting!