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From: Wendy Kelley <ladyslvr@xmission.com>
Subject: (arfic-l) test/teaser
Date: 30 Jan 2001 19:12:48 -0600
Wendy here.
As Michele and I try to get this list all set up, there're bound to be a
few test messages. This is one of them. Do not try this at home. I'm no
good at archive fics, so to keep this on topic in the only way I know here,
here's a very brief teaser from a Tomorrow People story that I've been
working on for two years now, and which may or may not ever see the light
of day.
"I think it's a place to start. Where's the library?" Adam held up his
hands, palms facing her.
He wants to teleport there? Lisa thought. Oh, won't that be a riot . . .
in more ways than one.
"About two blocks from here," she answered, deliberately not matching his
gesture. "but," she
looked significantly at his feet on which he had slipped a pair of laceless
shoes appropriate for
the beach and little else, "You're going to need socks."
"Socks?"
"And a jacket. Remember, December in this part of the world means
winter. It's cold outside.
And we can't just teleport in." Off his confused look, she explained,
"Finals are next week; the
place is going to be packed."
...
Wendy
-
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with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message.
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Alternate Realities Archivist" <archive@alternate-realities.net>
Subject: (arfic-l) This is only a test...
Date: 30 Jan 2001 21:24:43 -0500
This is a multi-part message in MIME format.
------=_NextPart_000_00CB_01C08B03.10175060
Content-Type: text/plain;
charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
"We can help," Willow tapped the frustrated woman at the computer on the =
shoulder. "Tara and I know a spell --"
Michele whipped around and glared at the witch. "No spells. I'm going to =
make this work if it's the last thing I do."
"Actually, I was thinking about a spell to make sure you don't break the =
keyboard the next time you pound on it like that."
"Oh, you're a real riot tonight, Willow. And you're supposed to be the =
computer whiz ... why aren't you whizzing?"
"Maybe it's because you won't let me near *my* computer."
Tara looked up, "I know a --" the blonde witch looked away at the =
coldness in Michele's glare, "A good place to order pizza. This may be a =
while."
***
This has been a test of posting ability. I now return you to your =
regularly scheduled email.
Michele
------=_NextPart_000_00CB_01C08B03.10175060
Content-Type: text/html;
charset="iso-8859-1"
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN">
<HTML><HEAD>
<META http-equiv=3DContent-Type content=3D"text/html; =
charset=3Diso-8859-1">
<META content=3D"MSHTML 5.50.4134.600" name=3DGENERATOR>
<STYLE></STYLE>
</HEAD>
<BODY bgColor=3D#ffffff>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>"We can help," Willow tapped the =
frustrated woman=20
at the computer on the shoulder. "Tara and I know a spell =
--"</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>Michele whipped around and glared at =
the witch. "No=20
spells. I'm going to make this work if it's the last thing I =
do."</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>"Actually, I was thinking about a spell =
to make=20
sure you don't break the keyboard the next time you pound on it like=20
that."</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>"Oh, you're a real riot tonight, =
Willow. And you're=20
supposed to be the computer whiz ... why aren't you =
whizzing?"</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>"Maybe it's because you won't let me =
near *my*=20
computer."</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>Tara looked up, "I know a --" the =
blonde witch=20
looked away at the coldness in Michele's glare, "A good place to order =
pizza.=20
This may be a while."</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>***</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>This has been a test of posting =
ability. I now=20
return you to your regularly scheduled email.</FONT></DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2></FONT> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT face=3DArial size=3D2>Michele</FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>
------=_NextPart_000_00CB_01C08B03.10175060--
-
To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com"
with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message.
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Michele Bumbarger" <mbumbarger@neo.rr.com>
Subject: (arfic-l) Another Test -- Please Ignore
Date: 30 Jan 2001 21:36:03 -0500
Foregoing cuteness, just to see if this is working. Ignore. Delete.
Whatever.
********
Michele B.
Author, Archivist & Webmistress
a l t e r n a t e REALITIES Fan Fiction Archive
http://www.alternate-realities.net
********
-
To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com"
with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message.
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"help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Michele Bumbarger" <mbumbarg@pair.com>
Subject: (arfic-l) FIC: Worlds Away (Part 10a/??)
Date: 30 Jan 2001 21:50:19 -0500
Title: Worlds Away (Part 10a/??)
Author: M. Bumbarger
Email: mbumbarg@pair.com
Fandom: New Series Tomorrow People
Rating: PG-13/TV-14
Summary: The Tomorrow People are swept away to a different world,
where they must take up the lives of their alter-egos and try to find
their way
home . . . which won't be easy.
Dedication: To everyone who is enjoying this madness and encouraged me
to
keep on writing.
Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People (Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte
Damon, and Jade Weston) are the property of Roger Damon Price, Thames
Television, ITV, Tetra Television and Nickelodeon. They are used here
without
permission, but not for profit. The lands, countries, customs,
deities, and
original characters are mine and mine only, springing from the depths
of my imagination and should not be used anywhere else without my
permission. Please do not repost this to any list or archive it
anywhere else
without my express permission.
Previous parts at http://www.alternate-realities.net/worldsaway
*****
Chapter Ten
Adam didn't have that sort of luck and battle practice
became the part of his day that he dreaded the most. He
could not avoid Stewart, though he did try. Yet, it didn't
matter what part of the Palace that he took refuge in, the
man found him -- or sent word to him that he expected. It
wasn't that Adam could not handle a sword, he could handle
a sword passably with what he recalled from fencing and far
too many Three Musketeers movies. However, what he could
not handle was *his* sword and the power force that flowed
through him and became one with him the moment the sword
was activated.
Activation was the key, although Adam hadn't realized that
on the first day. In his fumbling and worry about being
exposed as an imposter, he had touched the thumb impression
that activated the needle barbs which he recalled biting
into his hands before the world exploded in color. The
needle barbs drew his blood, and it was his blood that
activated the sword as a magic channel; his blood that
pulled the power forth. And although he now knew that he
could avoid that type of activation, it made him extremely
uncomfortable to know that the sword responded to his
genetic makeup as though he truly was Prince Adam Aldaric.
The examination of that made his thoughts head in
directions that Adam would prefer for them not to go.
The sword, Adam had learned from Hagen when he poured
enough ale into the man, was one of many made especially
for the royal houses of Stiborn. It was the one mystery,
the one legacy that tied the Fifteen Royal Houses to the
Temple of Damiaren. No one knew when or how the swords had
come to be commissioned - built and forged at the finest
steel in the forges of Zolnar, the god of war, with the
finest and purest of steels - and then imbued with the
ability to channel magic at the Temple of Damiaren. Not a
temple - but the High Temple that was seated in Di'alsol,
the capital of Albarasque.
Most who owned one of these swords, called the Swords of
the Houses simply enough, did not realize what they truly
held. The swords were passed from generation to generation,
saw battles and wars, but a majority of the men who held
them had no affinity to the magic of the world and in their
hands a Sword of the Houses was simply a finely crafted
heirloom and weapon. The rarest of the rare, one each
generation if the fates were willing, did have an affinity
for magic, enough to truly appreciate and use such a sword.
The High Prince Adam Aldaric had been one of those rare
individuals - and for whatever bizarre reason, Adam in his
place retained that ability. But from what Adam understood
his abilities, or at least those of the true prince, had
gone beyond sensing the magic and learning to use it with
the sword; the prince was mageborn in his own right and in
his hands the sword was both a weapon that could deliver
incredible destruction and a channel that could create
powerful magic.
It wasn't something that Adam wanted to toy with.
Hence the reason that Adam had taken to abducting Hagen
from whatever pretty maid caught the man's eye, and
dragging him the practice grounds right after dusk and
sometimes before dawn. Whatever happened, Adam did not want
to activate the Sword anymore than was necessary, but in
order to do that, in order to hold his own in sparring
sessions against Stewart and the King's Knights and the
Soldiers, he had to become familiar with basic sword
fighting. When Hagen questioned him, he merely remarked
that he thought he was becoming too dependent on the
Sword's magic; Hagen accepted that reasoning and asked no
more questions.
Oddly enough, both Hagen and Stewart possessed one of these
Swords of the Houses. Hagen admitted as much freely when
ale and promises that he could return to his warm bed and
buxom redhead-serving maid when Adam was done with him
loosened his tongue. To Hagen, it was merely another sword;
however, in Stewart's hands it was so much more. The man
might not have been considered mageborn, and he certainly
scoffed at the learnings and teachings of Damiaren and the
Circle of Mages of Stiborn, but he understood the Sword; he
understood the need to surrender to its will in order for
two to become one. An oddity, because by all rights Stewart
was neither of royal blood nor a member of any of the
Fifteen Houses.
In fact, it was his affinity for the magic and his ability
to use the Sword of the Houses as it was meant to be used
that gave Stewart his position first as Defender of the
High Lady Carrina, and now as the Defender of High Prince
Adam Aldaric. The illegitimate half-brother of the Queen,
his presence alone, which should have been scandalous and
reproachful, marked how much stake was placed in those men
who had an affinity for the magic -- even if they could not
fully use it. Stewart had no titles, and he did not ask for
any; Adam thought that the man would actually have balked
if such an offer were made. He did not refer to the man as
Uncle, and Queen Carrina never referred to him as her
brother, although there could be no mistaking that she had
affection for the man who had been raised at her side to
protect and defend her. He was simply Stewart, Defender of
the High Prince, and anyone who had a problem with that . .
. well, they never said so in public places.
Adam was beginning to realize that the longer he remained
in this world, the more deeply he became embroiled in it;
so much to the point that he sometimes was beginning to
forget that this was not *his world.*
That attitude showed itself most prevalently when he had
the opportunity to sit and sup with or go riding alongside
the King, a man who was nothing like the man Adam had
called father aside from the physical resemblance. He
enjoyed the older man's company, enjoyed the affection and
love he saw in the other's eyes, and lived for those family
moments.
Which Adam realized was precisely the reason that Stewart
now had him pinned to the ground, the very pointy and sharp
tip of Stewart's Sword pressed against Adam's throat. Lost
in his thoughts, he had not seen Stewart's maneuver, had
not guessed that the move was a feint until his feet were
kicked from under him and both his head and his rear met
loudly and harshly with the ground.
"When men see their leader fall, they panic and lose all
heart," Stewart lectured, pressing the Sword forward a bit
more, allowing Adam to really feel the sharp bite of the
steel. Stewart's lessons were never easy ones. "Your men
have just been given a hard blow. How long do you think
they will continue to fight?"
"Until I'm dead?"
"You are dead."
"Not yet. There's still a chance you could be run through
from behind." Where the cocky attitude came from, Adam did
not know. It seemed that getting cocky with a man who had a
sword to your neck wasn't a wise decision, but Stewart
encouraged him to speak his mind; when Adam held back a
thought or two, the man always knew it and the practice
sessions became harder.
Stewart snorted, the blade did not move, leaving Adam
effectively pinned until the man chose to release him.
"Youth thinks it will live forever. You will not, Adam, and
the sooner you get that into your head, the better off you
will be. Or would you give your new bride widow's black
during the first year of marriage?"
Now it was Adam's turn to scoff. Stewart saw conspiracy and
spies in every corner; the man seemed to convince that King
Palgar to the east was only lulling them into complacency
so that he could strike a killing blow. "King Palgar hasn't
moved in years. He isn't even preparing an army. And once
this marriage . . ." Adam paused, it was still hard to
think about the impending nuptials with a woman that he did
not know, a woman that was in actuality meant to be the
wife of the man he was only pretending to be, "Once this
marriage is sealed, we'll have Albarasque and their navy as
our allies."
"And because of that, you think the threat is gone?"
Another push with the sword.
Adam had enough. Reaching up, he pushed the blade away. The
metal bit into his hand, but not deeply, just deeply enough
to remind him of the reason why Stewart pulled his strikes
and why Adam had to do the same. These were not practice
blades - but the real thing. "I think that you are going to
ruin the wedding celebration with that attitude. What was
that Halista says about sour milk?"
The words that Stewart had been preparing to say in the
face of Adam's defiance turned quickly to a scowl as Adam
mentioned the name of the prince's former nurse. The woman
was older than anyone Adam had ever laid eyes upon, but she
was far from feeble. She had been nurse to Adam's maternal
grandmother, nurse to the queen, and nurse to the prince,
and fully expected to be nurse to Adam's heirs as well. She
garnered great respect from all those in the Palace, and
she was the only individual there who knew more about magic
than Master Ilarms and Stewart combined.
Rumor was that she had been allowed the pleasure that so
few of those outside of Albarasque receive - as a young
girl, she had studied at the Temple of Damiaren. Halista
wore the silver crescent moon of Damiaren at the base of
her throat, and many of her robes were embroidered with the
mark of Damiaren. Her manner of dress, long veils which hid
all but her pale, pale probing eyes, and dresses that were
not layers of shifts and petticoats, but simple buttoned
garments of light weight, worn even in the winter, seemed
to give credence to the rumors of a youth spent in the
desert kingdom.
Stewart rolled his eyes. "That woman says more than she
needs to about matters that don't concern her-"
"Are you saying that the matters of the prince do not
concern me, Stewart?" The gravely voice rose from the
shadows, startling even the seasoned Defender. The
tightness to Stewart's face showed that he did not like
being caught off guard. "You're not too old to have your
ears boxed by me. I haven't forgotten how, you know."
"Woman, you should not sneak like that!" Stewart growled as
Adam slowly picked himself up from the ground.
"And you should better mind your ears and hear what can be
heard," Halista waved a finger at him.
"If you didn't weave those spells of silence before rudely-
-"
Halista snorted and gestured towards Adam as though Stewart
had not spoken. "And what manner of teaching is this? You
would teach him to be afraid of the sword?"
"Fear of the sword will keep him alive." Stewart stiffened
as if realizing that he was on the verge of explaining
himself and hurried on gruffly. "I do not tell you how to
swaddle up a child, so do not tell me how to instruct in
swords."
"Fear will make him be stupid," Halista argued. Her eyes
fell on Adam, her voice softening, "He knows what will
protect him, he knows how to use the Sword. It is that he
is afraid of, still. You will never be the blademaster that
you can be, sweet prince, if you do not embrace it -- all
of it."
"Magic," Stewart shoved his Sword into its scabbard so
loudly that it echoed. He gave a curt nod to Adam,
"Tomorrow morning, Adam. Try to be on time for once."
Adam watched him go, and then took his time sheathing his
own Sword. Anything to avoid that penetrating gaze that
Halista fixed upon him. If there was one person he avoided
more than Stewart it was Halista. He at times felt like the
woman was seeing through him, right into his very soul.
She laid a hand lightly upon his arm. "Aldaric," Halista
never called him Adam for reasons that he didn't even ask
about, "There is so much power inside of you and so much
fear. You must leave the fear behind and embrace what you
can be; your wife does not fear the magic that is a part of
all of us."
"Bride," Adam corrected her automatically.
"Semantics, but if it gives you comfort," Halista shrugged
to show that it was no concern of hers. "You did not call
upon the Sword today. You have not for many days, sometimes
weeks, yet you will play with spells that are beyond your
scope and think nothing of it. You are afraid to share
yourself with the Sword. Someday, it may be the only thing
that saves your life."
Then she smiled and patted his arm. "I am tired now. Walk
an old woman to her room, will you, sweet prince?"
The change in demeanor told Adam that the conversation was
ended. And for that he was glad. If there was one thing he
did not want to talk about with Halista, it was about using
the magic that was wrapped up in that blasted Sword.
***
TBC....
-
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: "Michele Bumbarger" <mbumbarg@pair.com>
Subject: (arfic-l) FIC: Worlds Away (Part 10b/??)
Date: 31 Jan 2001 19:02:56 -0500
Title: Worlds Away (Part 10b/??)
Author: M. Bumbarger
Email: mbumbarg@pair.com
Fandom: New Series Tomorrow People
Rating: PG-13/TV-14
Summary: The Tomorrow People are swept away to a different world,
where they must take up the lives of their alter-egos and try to find
their way home . . . which won't be easy.
Dedication: To everyone who is enjoying this madness and encouraged me
to keep on writing.
Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People (Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte
Damon, and Jade Weston) are the property of Roger Damon Price, Thames
Television, ITV, Tetra Television and Nickelodeon. They are used here
without permission, but not for profit. The lands, countries, customs,
deities, and original characters are mine and mine only, springing
from the depths
of my imagination and should not be used anywhere else without my
permission. Please do not repost this to any list or archive it
anywhere else without my express permission.
Previous parts at http://www.alternate-realities.net/worldsaway
*****
Chapter Ten (continued)
King Martine looked up and smiled in welcome as Adam
entered the private dining room of his parent's apartments.
King Martine and Queen Carrina had an entire wing of the
Palace to themselves, and there were days when they did not
emerge from that wing. A small study, private library,
private kitchens and private dining room gave the king and
queen an opportunity to escape from the world around them
from time to time.
"Frivolous perhaps," the King had remarked once in passing,
"But it does keep us sane."
Today, the king, his father, raised his goblet. "Ah, Adam,
you are here."
Adam closed the doors behind him, purposely ignoring the
way Tara lifted up from one of the sofas and stuck her
tongue out at him. It was a game they played -- making
faces at one another to see whom would be caught first or
who laughed the quickest. "Sorry, I'm late. I was --"
"Caught up in battle practice with Stewart," the king
nodded, "We've heard. Stewart was quite informative."
"And I was watching from the balcony," Tara announced. "And
you nearly got hacked."
"Tara!" Queen Carrina, beautiful and golden, leaned over
and cuffed the girl lightly on the back of the head. "I'm
going to have to have a word with Halista about your past
times and your language."
Tara sulked, but was wise enough to not argue with her
mother.
Adam fished for an explanation and then chose to tell the
truth. "I was --"
"Distracted?" The king volunteered.
"Yes," Adam nodded sheepishly.
"Distraction is inevitable, Adam. You must learn to call
upon the Sword and filter these things out. Distraction is-
-"
"Understandable under the circumstances," Queen Carrina cut
in. She floated to Adam's side, with the grace of a cat,
slipping her arm through his. "He is getting married,
Martine. He's allowed a bit of distraction."
"I wasn't distracted before my wedding."
"No, you were too concerned with your prized mare going
into foal to be distracted by something as plain and simple
as your betrothed." A smile covered her face and laughter
shone in her eyes as she said the words.
"You were never plain, Carrina." The emotion in King
Martine's eyes made Adam suddenly wish that he were
elsewhere.
To distance himself from the personal moment that the king
and queen shared with simple eye contact, Adam focused on
Tara. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, which
promptly sent the princess into a fit of giggles.
"Oh you two," the queen's attention returned to her
children and she shook her head. "Come, let's eat before
the food is cold. And we can discuss the preparations of
the royal apartments for the new groom and bride--"
"Women's talk," King Martine grunted, slapping a muscular
arm around Adam's shoulder and wresting him from the queen.
"You save those words for Lady Margot. In the meantime,
Adam and I shall discuss the wedding hunt -- I think you
will very much like what I have planned . . ."
With an apologetic smile to the woman who could have been
his mother, Adam allowed himself to be led away. He would
enjoy this why it lasted, the one thing he never had --
family.
*** End of Chapter Ten
********
Michele B.
Author, Archivist & Webmistress
a l t e r n a t e REALITIES Fan Fiction Archive
http://www.alternate-realities.net
********
-
To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com"
with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message.
For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send
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