NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #27/NN_1992_27.iso/spool/alt/romance/chat/20933

Text File | 1992-11-22 | 9.7 KB | 167 lines

Newsgroups: alt.romance.chat
Path: sparky!uunet!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!sdd.hp.com!ux1.cso.uiuc.edu!news.cso.uiuc.edu!osiris.cso.uiuc.edu!boatman
From: [e-mail] (Todd Boatman)
Subject: [CASTLE] Rheandra's Night Alone
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Summary: Rheandra
Sender: [e-mail] (Net Noise owner)
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 22:56:59 GMT
Keywords: castle
Lines: 154


I am forwarding this post for Brandy as she is now on her way
home for thanksgiving.

-Todd

Date: 20 Nov 92   12:55 EST
From: [e-mail]
To: [e-mail]
Subject: Sending you "RHEANDRA INTRO A1" in this note

Rheandra pulled her cloak around her and a content smile crossed her face.
It was a beautiful fall night, the air was cold but clean and invigorating.
She could feel the air rushing into her lungs, it made her feel vital and
alive.  The moon was so bright it drowned out the light of the stars.  It
looked so close she felt she could almost reach out and grasp it in her hand.
It was waning though, growing fainter each night.  The memory of the full
moon just days ago thrilled her.  She remembered the surge of power rushing
through her body, the feeling of alien power, raw and untamed, pulsing
through her veins.  The power was still there but waning along with the moon.
It faded a bit more each night even as she watched the moon in the sky.  The
power was strange but Rheandra felt more comfortable with it as time went on.

With a sudden cold tightening of her belly Rheandra suddenly remembered why
she was sitting on that hill in the middle of the night.  Quickly she
glanced down the hill toward the comfort of her fire in the clearing.
Just at the edge of her hearing was the faint rustling of her horse, Feranon.
The sound of her faithful horse was comforting, about the only comforting
part of her journey thus far.  Looking back up in the sky toward the moon
did not help her now.  What had been so close just a moment ago now seemed
so cold and far away.

Rheandra gathered her cloak around her and walked down the slope toward the
fire.  It was probably getting close to dawn, time to get some sleep.  The
uneasy feeling that she had carried for the past month felt so strong all of
a sudden.  The feeling had started so subtly that she couldn't really say
when it had begun, only that it was growing, impelling her toward action.
The feeling of dread was so heavy at times it oppressed her, made her feel
so totally hopeless that she just wanted to scream.  To run
away and hide was her fondest desire but to do so was impossible.  Rheandra
was not the kind of person to do that - no matter how much she wanted to be
a little girl, to run and play without a care.  Those years were far away,
with a deep breath Rheandra pushed such thoughts out of her mind.

The danger that she felt was real.  She was not sure where it was or even
what it was, all she knew was that it was growing.  Rheandra had gathered a
few things and set out on her journey.  She was not sure where she was
headed but as the moon had waxed and grown fuller, so had her feelings of
where she must go.  Finally with the full moon, the feeling had become clear.
The evil had been so strong she could feel it as beacon.  There was no doubt -
the presence was more exact than a compass and Rheandra knew exactly in which
direction to go.  The frightening part was her inability to resist the
immense draw that evil held.  She could no longer control where she was going,
her desire to resist had nothing to do with the compulsion within.  The most
frightening of all was not knowing what it was that was drawing her on.  With
that unpleasant thought Rheandra fell into a deep and fitful sleep. . .

 . .to awake to a piercing scream of terror!  Rheandra jerked upright and
fumbled for her dagger.  The feeling of evil was overwhelming, the air was
heavy with it all around.  Feranon was screaming in pain, Rheandra could just
barely make out dark forms around him and hear the growls and grunts from
the creatures surrounding him.  Feranon was trampling some of the creatures
underfoot and holding most of them at bay.  Rheandra barely had time to glance
over at Feranon when she was knocked back to the ground with a thud.  There
were creatures all around her as well.  Rheandra stabbed blindly up toward the
massive furry body pinning her to the ground.  At the same time she felt a
burning tear as a set of powerful jaws clamped on her shoulders.  The pain was
incredible, it overwhelmed and weakened Rheandra but not before her dagger bit
into the hideous flesh above her.  She could feel nothing but the pain.  She
was vaguely aware of the weight of the now lifeless body almost crushing her
own and the somehow faint screams of Feranon.

There was a rushing sound in her ears, a roar inside of her body
until she felt nothing at all except burning light in her veins.  Power
coursed through her and she reached out to embrace it.  The power
filled her completely, all she could feel was the pure, burning
white fire pounding in her veins.  Suddenly she released it, sending it out
towards her attackers.  There were screams and cries, the air was filled with
a hideous stench - Rheandra was aware of none of that.  She was totally
consumed with the power she felt.  The power was taking her, controlling her.
Rheandra felt herself losing out to the power.  She felt her mind and soul
being wretched from her, totally absorbed by the power of the wild moon magic
within.  In a final moment of consciousness she reached out blindly toward the
only thing left and grasped the pain.  The pain in her shoulder was real,
something to hold onto an anchor her to her body.  She embraced the pain, let
it take control while she cut off the power, relegating it back into the place
inside of herself and slamming shut the door.

Rheandra lie still a moment, completely exhausted, allowing reality to seep
back into her world.  Gradually the physical realm took control.  Rheandra
pushed and rolled the foul creature from atop her.  All around were the bodies
of her attackers.  They were black, misshapen creatures, their bodies
deformed.  They had large fangs curling from their jaws and a foul liquid
oozed from their mouths.  They had long claws stretching from massive paws.
The pale light from from what remained of the fire distorted the scene.

Rheandra stumbled over to Feranon.  He seemed comparatively calm. He was shaking
and bleeding from several cuts but did not appear to be unduly spooked.  This
was infinitely comforting to Rheandra.  She leaned against him and took stock of
the situation.  She was shaking and unsure of how much longer her legs would
hold her she sat down.  Her shoulder was bleeding profusely and required her
immediate attention.  Awkwardly fumbling through her pack she pulled out a
bundle.  Crudely wrapping her shoulder and making a sling required all of  her
attention.  She bit down and ignored the pain, making herself continue until
her task was finished.  Weak and shaky she rested up against a tree.  Rheandra
was dazed, having a hard time thinking but she knew she had to help herself
for there was no one else.  To lay back and rest now would be to die.  What
had happened?  Rheandra was not sure, of what had happened and of her reaction
to the situation.  Had she done . . . what?  The implications of what had
transpired were not something she could allow herself to think about.  It was
frightening.  Just now she had to think of surviving.

Rheandra looked up at Feranon.  He was the key to her survival.  Thank the
powers that be he was not badly injured, the scratches would not hamper him
too much.  Standing somewhat unsteadily Rheandra pulled out a vial of salve
from her bundle and gently rubbed it into Feranon's wounds.  The touch of his
warm fur was infinitely calming to Rheandra and allowed her to concentrate.
After much manipulation and frustration Rheandra managed to saddle Feranon and
attach her pack.  With the use of only one good arm Rheandra hoped that her
saddle would not slide.  She knew she did not have the strength to ride bare-
back.  Climbing onto Feranons back Rheandra surveyed the remainder of her camp
in the faint light from what was left of her fire.  There were twisted, hideous
bodies strewn about and the smell was sickening.  Turning Feranon toward the
road they had been following, Rheandra glanced one last time at the nightmare
of her reality.

Not far onto the road Rheandra realized that she could barely maintain
consciousness let alone ride.  In desperation she stopped Feranon and tied her
boots to her stirrups.  Accomplishing that nearly exhausted any stores of
energy she had left and she weakly entwined her hands deeply in Feranons long,
black mane.  She had to remain on Feranon, to fall off would be deadly.  Her
shoulder was throbbing, burning and she could feel fever spreading through her
body.  Desperately she clung to Feranon and urged him on down the road.  She
could only hope that she would soon come upon someone who could help her.

The night seemed endless, but finally dawn approached.  In the gray early
morning light Rheandra could barely made out the silhouette of a figure in the
distance.  Hope surged and spurred her on.  She could make it to her goal, she
knew she could if she just concentrated.  The misty figure slowly became more
distinct and suddenly Rheandra was in front a man.  With the last shred of
consciousness she heard a voice, felt him cutting her feet loose and her
hands from Feranons mane.  She fell down into strong arms and released
herself to the blackness, still grasping in her hands the entwined hair he
had cut from Feranons mane.

Rheandra / Brandy



--
"I can see nothing, said he....                   |
 On the contrary...You can see everything.        |
 You fail, however, to reason from what you see." | -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle