Weather The Weather

Spoilers




For Shards


and other things






Like stuff I haven't actually read.



Warnings: Frank and unabashed adoration of Go Backs. A flawed Venka. Wierdness, and healing of trauma. Someone who's been up too late.
Rating: Pg-13
Summary:
Whether the weather be cold, or whether the weather be cold.
Whether the weather be fine, or whether the weather be not.
Whatever the weather, we'll weather the weather.
Whether we like it or not.


Venka took the Go Backs to the new land, but in a different place, from from any humans. It was as good a place to start as any, she reasoned, and would help the little warriors to adjust to the new land.

What she hadn't counted on was the temperature.

Sweet scented and green, the new woods she had chosen were fresh with rain at all times, and heavy with mist. The loam was soft under their feet, mixed by the ages the forest had known. The trees told the woods' tales, many of them in trunks as thick around as eights upon eights of elves, holding hands in a ring. The evergreen trees were webbed instead of needles, and their branches floated like wings in the wind.

Everything was bright, brilliant green, coated with moss, and blooming with life.

Of course, it was much hotter than the Frozen Mountains. To those who had grown up in the shadow of those mountains, it was an entirely different universe.

“It's like being in a stew pot.” Stian complained. He was a younger Go Back, with flowing red hair, and eyes like silver stars.

Markku, standing by Venka, snorted. Looking at him, Venka could almost see Strongbow, trying not to smile.

“Complete with hissing steam!” Stian's sister snapped. Signa, with the same red hair, and eyes the color of the sky between stars, was the only one who'd left the camp wearing less than furs. Her underthings consisted of a short tunic and a pair of shorts, so her legs were covered in scratches above the knees. She had, foolishly, Venka thought, run into a thicket of blackberry bushes.

Stian stuck his tongue out, and ducked back from his sister's punch. She growled, and flung down her brace of grouse to throw herself at him. The two rolled over, biting, kicking and snarling obscenities that would make a troll blush.

Venka sighed and dropped from her tree branch, going to the brawling duo. She felt Markku shift behind her, and might have heard him whisper, “Don't.”

Whatever else he may have said was lost in the screaming duo.

Suddenly, before she could even lay her her hands on them, the siblings separated, laughing. Signa reached over and pulled a twig from her brother's hair.

“Whiner.”

He tugged at her red curls.

“Troll-poker.”

“Brat.”

They were on their feet in moments, Signa bouncing slightly. They grinned at their fellow hunters, oblivious to Venka's shock.

“Where are we going again?” Stian tried to push his hair out of his face again.

“That way.” Signa pointed to Sun Goes Down. “Remember? Sad Eyes found some deer.”

They moved off, parting briefly around Venka, like water diverging around a rock. Happy chatter floated back, before Signa broke into a run.

“Oy!” Stian chased her. “No fair!”

Venka was still fixed by surprise. Markku reached over, and shut her mouth. He grinned at her.

“You know, if anyone but Signa had jumped him, she would've probably pulled a knife on them?” He took her arm, pulling her after him.”They're strange, those two.”

They found the two in a large clearing, crouched in tall grass. Aroree was nowhere to be seen, but the deer were. Large, strange deer, as lumpish as zwoots, but with a large, flat rack of antlers.

Signa raised her dagger, licking her lips. At her side, Stian was holding his spear ready. Markku and Runa knelt beside them, but looked at her.

Venka tried to recall if she had ever hunted anything like these, if any tall beasts had ever found their way up to Thorny Mountain. No, none quite like these, but Cutter had told her how they herded the zwoots in Sorrow's End, using their wolves to...

She pulled herself back to the present and remembered that she was in the strange new mountains, with their mists and greenery, and not a single wolfrider among them.

But Runa had a bow. Venka looked at it. Small, but tightly strung. She had heard that it was
tight that it could pierce a troll from the length of three tall trees.

“Runa, can you make the shot?”

The she elf pushed brown bangs out of her eyes and readied an arrow.

“Which one?”

Venka looked through the herd, and spotted a large doe, with no fawn. She pointed to it.

“That one looks as if her lifebearing days are over.”

Runa aimed, and took a breath in, released halfway, and-

Suddenly, the doe moved, shifting just enough that the arrow hit the neck, rather than the eye
Venka had thought it was intended for. The doe squealed, and her head shot up. She twisted about, sniffing the air, as the blood poured down her neck. The other deer ran.

Don't change, wind, dear wind, don't change, Venka's thoughts were halted by a stiff breeze that flung her hair into her face.

The deer halted, and her tiny eyes narrowed further. She hoofed the ground and shot towards them.

“Out of the way!” Venka pulled Runa towards her, but her careless words drew the doe that way. Behind her, she felt Runa nock arrow and aim, but it was too late, and even though Stian is there with his spear, in front of them, she knows it will be too late, for all of them and this was such a stupid, stupid way to-

**Little one!**

Signa was there. She was a knife in the deer's eye, she was a toss of the doe's head, and while she was flying she was a bird with clipped wings. When she hit the ground she was the crack of bone on stone.

“Sister!”

Wild words, words Venka never thought to hear from herself

“Stupid, stupid fool!” Wild strange words that tumbled from her lips like mis-thrown dice. “Stupid, inbred-Unh!”

Markku stood over her, rubbing his fist, probably bruised with impact that it had hit her face.

“If you have nothing useful to say,” He snapped, eyes narrowed disgustedly. “Then shut up.” He turned and issued orders to the Runa. “Run back to camp, and send as you go. Get Rilke to come first, then tell the others to move the camp here. Get the floater to bring Rilke, she'll go fastest.” As the maid ran off, he turned back to Stian who was crouched over his sister, hands touching her and flinching away, and touching her again.

“Don't move her, Stian, she might have broken her neck.”

Stian winced, and sat up, glaring past Markku at Venka.

“She saved you, “ He growled. “She saved you, and me and Runa and all you can do is say those things. She's my sister, she's the world, and all you can do is say those things! Do you even want us? Why are you dragging us around if you don't want us?”

Venka stared at him and saw, as though for the first time, that he was at least an eight of years younger than she had been when her mother left. That his eyes were filling over with tears. That he held his sister's hand as though she were his life blood.

Markku pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around Signa's legs.

“You've always been strange, Stian.”

The Go Back lad shrugged, turned back to his sister and lay down beside her, arms and legs
wrapped up around her.

Markku looked at Venka, his eyes like a river under sunlight, deep green, opaque and filled with hidden life. She turned away, heading for a cliff nearby, one that looked out to the Vast Deep Water

“I'm going to call Sunstream. I guess we'll find out if he can get Leetah.”
....................................................... ....................................................

Of course the Palace would be away. She snorted disgustedly as she made her way down from the rift she had found to make her plea. Whenever it was truly needed it went elsewhere.

**It's always here and gone again.**

Sunstream was rueful. She could almost see his grin, so like his father's, but more commonly seen.

**But you say she might not live?** Ruefulness was dismay. **Poor girl. I'll call them, but-**

**I understand**

The path was slippery, and washed with the blue of twilight by the time she made her way down. The trees whispered and brushed one another with the wind. She thought longingly of the tall and calm Savah, of the ever warm, ever cool Palace. Of Cutter and Clearbrook, of Leetah and Skywise. Of the dozens of gentle touches and kind words she had always taken for granted.

The hill softened into a clearing, the one where they had seen the deer.

The camp had well and truly been moved. All around, tents were standing, and glowing through leather were soft lamps. A small tent had been set up in the middle, with Markku and Rilke standing outside.

Rilke was tall for a Go Back, with cool blue eyes, and hair the color of slate. Sh smiled warmly, though, like ice that had been softened. Her smiles were gone now.

“She might make it through the night.” She said. “But she won't live through tomorrow. Her brain is wrong, somehow. She might as well already be dead.”

They looked at Venka hopefully as she approached, then sighed as she shook her head.

“Timmain took it to go exploring with Skywise. Something about a world with rings instead of moons.”

“That's sensible!” Markku rolled his eyes. “Well, anything else from our dear “hub”?”

“Nothing.” She looked through the tent flaps. “How much longer?”

“Tomorrow, if that,” Rilke shook her head. “It's a waste of a death. Signa never had any fawns either.”

“And Stian?”

Markku hesitated. “When lovemates care too much, they die with each other. Stian and his sister, they have no lovemates, no family, only each other, and without her, he may throw himself away.”

Venka flinched. “I thought Go Backs-”

Markku cut her off.

“Go away. I don't want to hear whatever's going to come out of your mouth.” He glared at her. “So we aren't Wolfriders, and we aren't SunFolk. Doesn't mean we don't love. Just go.”
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In the tent, the lamplight flung it's self out in strange shapes. Lying beside Signa, Stian tried to forget that she would not awaken. That her stillness now was stillness for ever.

See, Stian? I can make Shadow people! Here, I'll show you how.

He shivered, cuddled closer and sent to her. Did as he had never done and flung himself into her mind.

**Signa?**

Past memories, past thoughts of himself, past fingers that twitched to hold him. Past himself in her eyes.

“Your mother's new fawn is a buck, Signa.”

“Kind of small.”

“They all start out like that. But his eyes are open, and he seems strong.”

“Oh.”

His eyes were open, and they were the silver blue of stars. He laughed and held out his hand to her.

Past their playing, in the Lodge, in the snow, in a thousand joyous ways.

Past her teaching him to tie laces, to brush deer, to be useful in a thousand small ways. To be brave all day, and sleep the night through.

”Go Backs have to be braver than other elves. It's because we're the best ones. So stop crying. Do you want a Sun Villager to see you in their magic Lodge and laugh at you?”

Past their mother, dead by trolls, and Signa's insistence on taking him to her furs, rather than letting him live with other orphans.

On keeping him in her furs, rather than lying with buck and doe, dancing in a Go Back dance.

”You'll live. Go Backs almost always raise themselves anyways.

Past her, a young warrior, who could have rolled anyone in her furs anytime she wanted, past her holding him at night, not complaining when he kicked her out of the bed, past her nuzzling him, crying into his hair.

Past her teaching him spear and sword, past running with her in the snow. Past the fights with teasing fools, who tempted sword and spear with foolish words.

”It's one of the taboos; never lie with close kin. Close blood runs too thick.”

Past her and him in the Palace, seeing the High One, seeing the Palace Thief, seeing that so-called chief of chiefs, and Venka's first arrogant glance at her people.

Past the deer with strange antlers.

He found her in the Lodge, where the door was kept closed by a tangled mess of strings, in a cage made of strings, with Mother.

She waved to him, as if she were going on a trip, and held up a heavy looking bag.

**No!**

He tugged at the laces, trying to find a way to unravel them. She pulled a spear down from the Lodge walls, testing it's balance before tying it to her pack.

**Don't leave me, please don't leave me, I can't live without you, I can't breathe without you.**

Mother had a handful of beads, carved from bear teeth, and was stringing them to one of the pack laces. Signa paused in packing and looked at them.

”See what I made for you, Stian? Wear these in your hair when it gets long enough. Until then, I'll put them on your shoes.”

Finally, he got one string loose, only to find the others had tightened and thickened. He swore viciously.

“You'll rest with me, now. Stian. Go backs bring themselves up anyways, but I'll help a little.”

His dagger, he wasn't sure where he had found it, but it was in his hands now, and he had it, he was hacking at the strings, tearing aside tangle, pushing through where he could not cut. He found himself on the other side, but mother was opening the door, and Signa was holding her hand, walking out into the sunlight and it was so bright, so beautiful.

But so was the mist, and the green of the tress. The then of wild winds, and thick snow, of crystal ice and pale, clear blue was beautiful. But so was this, the now, of wet and hot and green.

He had her hand. He pulled her with him, kicking the door shut as he ran.

Ran down the stone tunnels.

Dodge ice in snow.

Scratched their legs on blackberries.

Fell on the wet moss.

Laughed as they had not laughed since...

...Woke in a leather tent, with the lamplight making funny faces.

Stian raised a hand to his sister's face.

**I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep.**

Not now, not when they might have so little time left.

He ran a hand over her face, whimpering, like a pup taken too soon from it's mother.

She grabbed it.

Stian stared at her, as she yanked him down, and rolled over.

**Fine, but if you're up, then go to sleep. There's a long day tomorrow.**

He jumped free, backing away as she sat up, glaring groggily at him. She rubbed her eyes and reached for the lamplight.

“You're alive?”

“Am I not supposed to be?” She snapped, then gestured to the tent opening. “Get me some of that deer. I killed it, I should get the first share!”

She was alive.

“Get it yourself.” He retorted, grinning. “I'm not your slave.”

She stood up, swayed a little, then steeled herself and marched outside. Stian followed, grinning like a troll when he saw how his tribemates jaws dropped, and meat fell from hands into laps.

“Wha- How?”

“Signa!”

“I heard you were dead.” That was Seki, who winked slyly at her. “You look good for dead.”

She snarled, and grabbed the first plate of meat she saw, which happened to be Markku's

“You didn't even wake me up for this?” She stuffed it in her mouth. “Sho kwul, Mokku.”

Venka finally found her voice. “But you were dying, Signa. Your brain broke when you fell.”

“Really?” Signa shrugged. “I remember a strange dream, though. I was in the Lodge, with mother. We were going on a journey, and I had to pack.” She cast a teasing glower over her shoulder at Stian. “Then the bratling came along and wouldn't let me go, dragged me all the way back here.” She looked around, at the tents and the grass, and the trees turned black by the fire, smiling.

“It's nice here.”

Stian realized that at some point during her admittedly short narration his knees had dropped out from under him. He stayed that way until Tait pulled him up, looking a bit worried.

“What's with you?”

“I had the same dream.”

Stian gestured to Signa. “During our sleep, I dreamed the same dream.”

Aroree wrung her hands, staring at him. Stian felt her sending brush by, relaying his words to someone, he didn't know who.

He found out moments later, when Venka hopped to her feet and ran up to him. She touched his hand, saying something, something, he couldn't tell what because the light faded, although the darkness was very light, and he wasn't sure why....

END
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I am so evil.

Anyhow, this is my big long Go Back Saga, to be updated sporadically.

Wow, I like it. Believable, and well done. I like the way you've drawn the Go-Backs. More intimate, more sympathetic than I've ever seen. As I'm sure you know.

Venka? Well, I can see how she might take some things for granted, how she would think of the Go-Backs as everyone does, and how some of her father's arrogance might come out in this situation. But I also think she'd realize she was doing it, after Markku pointed it out so forcefully, and feel remorse. And she's the kind who will change her thinking, and her ways, when she receives new understanding. Of course, you've probably already planned for that.

But you've painted her believable, and you haven't made her the bad guy, which I appreciate. I like your little vision of her homesickness, how she misses her people. (Actually, it's kind of nice to see her not perfect for a change. . .)

I like the sister and brother very, very much. A refreshing change in a medium where it's almost always about lovers. :D

Actually, I was kind of pulling for her Rayek genes to come out at first. Venka is a good person, but she does have her own set of arrogance. And it's always a little easier to be angry at the side of yourself you don't like, which for her is represented by the darker side of the Go Backs.

She's so not the bad guy. No worries, how could I bash her?

Signa and Stian are, well, perhaps two of the hardest characters I've made. I guess you can tell that Stian has a magic, but it's more than that. They represent the family love that no ties can ever break, no matter what.

very interesting. Looking forward to seeing more. Only thing is I'm a little confused at the end--is the 'he' at the very end Stian? And is it him who is thinking 'i am so evil'?

Um that was me. Really.

Finally! I get to see Venka with the Go-Backs. That's a story I've been thirsting for! :D

oh. Nah, you're not evil. Mischievous.

Oh, Fourleafclover, don't be too expectant. This is going to be a long one. And rough, too.

So wear a seatbelt.

And Scarlettdoll? For this story? I am evil. :twisted:

*Looks around for seatbelt* How could I have forgotten to put one on!?

"Click"

That's better. Take the wheel, Kathleen. You are driving. :D

ooh. Well then, i look forward to seeing it! (and seeing if Rayek kicks your butt for your portrayal of his little girl)

Hey!
Venka rocks and I never said otherwise!
:looks around nervously:
Now look what you've done!

Another wonderul story Kathleen, liked it much!!!:D

Can't wait for more!!!

i was saving this for a special treat and it was indeed worth the wait. I hope you'll continue soon. Thank you Kathleen.

Dedicated to Krwordgazer and Scarlettdoll and Leanan and Rainedancer and the fact that it's only three more days until payday and I only have enough food in my house for one.
Summary: Venka has angst, Stian has secondhand angst, Signa has worry angst, Markku has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Angst, Two Edge has cuteness and Aroree is rational. Or, not a lot gets done, but here, have some back story, and a little exposition.

Weather The Storm


Blackness...

Bright sun...

He was she was he was she was....

Falling...

The blackness is gone, in a swirl of flame and a stretch of leg. In a flash of eyes and a flow of hair.

”The dance is a part of you, Venka, as much as that showy magic of yours!”

The dance is a part of you....

The dance...

The fire burns, it burns!

“What should I do, Mother, that would please you most?”

Please you...

Please you most...

“All that was best in Rayek and none of the worst, I see in you.”

All that was best...

All that was best...

“Teach him a lesson. Teach him so he learns!”

Teach him so he learns...

“Of course! Can't you see?”

“You know where that thinking leads.”

You know...

“Wake up!”

A flash of pain and...

Stian opened his eyes, and he was in his sister's arms. His fingers tingled as though he'd touched the flames, in that stupid fawn game. Signa was staring at him, eyes wide with fear.

“What happened?”

“You touched her.” Signa's mouth thinned in a frown briefly. “Or she touched you. I don't know. All I know is that you glowed.”

“Glowed?”

Something, it might have been fear, stretched his voice and made it crack. He flinched from his sister's glare.

She reached out, and patted his face, then pushed him down a little further into the furs.

“Go to sleep, little boy.” She patted and tucked the furs around him, as though he were the cub he hadn't been for forever, then blew out the lamp and lay down beside him, one leg over his.
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Markku watched the woods, the blackness of the trees, and the glimmering pale blue of the dew.

He saw, again, Signa's hand flashing out, slapping Venka upside the face, and winced.

Venka standing there, trembling, while Signa pulled her brother away, into the tent.

Venka running away, up into the hills. Up by the sea.

She's going to be angry.

Underneath this thought is the younger part, ducking under Zey's, Cheppi's and Alda's hands. A quick blow followed by many.

He shivered.

From Sun Comes up, there was a strange, lumpish shadow. He could tell, as it came into the firelight, that it was the Half Elf, carrying Ulwa in his giant arms. The little orphan had attached herself to him for some reason, and he could tell, as the troll makes his way to the tent where he, the glider, and Tait have made a den, that it was slowly becoming a bond.

There was an oddness to it, like Signa and Stian, but different. It wasn't something he could easily understand, but something hurt as he watched it.

It's a hurt that deepens as the Halfling dashed out, delicate elf behind him. Leaf in the wind behind him.

Aroree was tugging at him, sweet and gentle, pulling him back.

The Troll, the elf, was too strong for her, though, and he was coming, he was coming right for Markku, and Markku was small, was small once again.

Markku was hiding under his own arms, trying as hard as he could not to move, not to pull the knife that wanted out, not to bury it in the Halfling's throat.

The voice was gruff,demanding.

“Where is she? Where is my maiden?”

Not yours, not anymore. Ours, ours to wear the four braids and to lead us in hunt and song. Ours to stand tall, and smile sweet. Our trophy, our symbol. Our life

But the troll was gone.

Markku would never have had the courage to say it, anyways.

He lifted his hands, and wiped the sweat, the dampness which was not tears from his face, and started after the snapped branches and the heavy footprints the troll had left behind him.


He left his knife behind.

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I love this... and thanks for the dedication.

Did you know Markku is a common male name in Finland?