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I quite like being a beta-reader. I've got two alphas now. Hee.
Lyra, where'd you go? You left me. I am wounded, deeply wounded.
Because I need to write something, have a quite random scene from somewhere in the third book of the Trilogy. Few spoilers, nothing absolutely huge.
Elliott coughed again, feebly, as if to remind them that yes, he was still here, and still dying, thanks-very-much. "Could I have some water?"
"You're such a drama queen," Mi-Sheir said, but got up and strode over to the well, grabbing one of the mugs off the side.
"Am not."
Laisa cleared her throat and gave him a gently reprimanding look. "Do not overtax yourself, child."
"I am very nearly twenty, not a child."
"You are a child in spirit."
"I despise this country," Elliott announced, and accepted the mug that Mi-Sheir brought him. "And I despise all you women. I want Seth back. And Nick."
Nick waved. "Hello, still here." He caught sight of his hand - or rather, his lack of one - and whimpered. "Figuratively speaking, I suppose."
"Well, yes." Elliott drank the water, which seemed to help, because when he spoke his voice was stronger. "But not as you were. We used to have such good times, and now look at us. Doomed and helpless and pathetic."
"One thing," Mi-Sheir said, before Laisa could say something profound and before Marisa could start yelling again. "One thing - it's just that, you know, we're not doomed. Pathetic, yes. Helpless, well, you're the helpless one. But not doomed. All we have to do is get Arrions and the Key back."
Elliott smirked. "And find Seth and his Key, assuming the Dead King hasn't got him yet. And get Justinia's back. Speaking of Justinia, where is Justinia?"
Laisa smiled beatifically. "She is learning the value of the wisdom of the ancients. She will not return for a week."
"I might not have a week!"
"On the contrary, you have some time yet. Time enough, I think, to return to the Gates and attempt again to shut them."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Laisa, you're overlooking one thing. The last time we tried that, we burnt an inflammable city. We just don't know how to shut the Gates. Without my grandmother's book for guidance, we are completely and utterly useless."
"And dead," Elliott chirped.
Mi-Sheir poked him. "Stop saying that. You're not going to die."
"Am so."
"Are not."
"Am - "
"Children," Laisa interjected. "Please. Is it something about your mortality that causes you to behave in such a fashion? The Gates can be shut again. Perhaps you were simply the wrong Key-holders."
"What're we supposed to do?" Marisa asked, and there was something soft and dangerous in her voice. "Hold auditions? 'Come to the Gates next autumn, try your luck at preserving the world for the Living'? It shouldn't matter who the Key-holders are!"
"Maybe," Mi-Sheir said, "we need more necromancers."
Everyone looked at her, except Elliott, who was seized by another coughing fit.
"I mean," the girl continued, "last time you had two, but they were both Key-holders, right? Don't you need a third? I read that somewhere."
"Damn it all," Nick said despairingly. "We completely forgot that."
"That," Elliott muttered, "explains a lot. Also, we are totally doomed. Because, guess what? We don't have any necromancers anymore."
Lyra, where'd you go? You left me. I am wounded, deeply wounded.
Because I need to write something, have a quite random scene from somewhere in the third book of the Trilogy. Few spoilers, nothing absolutely huge.
Elliott coughed again, feebly, as if to remind them that yes, he was still here, and still dying, thanks-very-much. "Could I have some water?"
"You're such a drama queen," Mi-Sheir said, but got up and strode over to the well, grabbing one of the mugs off the side.
"Am not."
Laisa cleared her throat and gave him a gently reprimanding look. "Do not overtax yourself, child."
"I am very nearly twenty, not a child."
"You are a child in spirit."
"I despise this country," Elliott announced, and accepted the mug that Mi-Sheir brought him. "And I despise all you women. I want Seth back. And Nick."
Nick waved. "Hello, still here." He caught sight of his hand - or rather, his lack of one - and whimpered. "Figuratively speaking, I suppose."
"Well, yes." Elliott drank the water, which seemed to help, because when he spoke his voice was stronger. "But not as you were. We used to have such good times, and now look at us. Doomed and helpless and pathetic."
"One thing," Mi-Sheir said, before Laisa could say something profound and before Marisa could start yelling again. "One thing - it's just that, you know, we're not doomed. Pathetic, yes. Helpless, well, you're the helpless one. But not doomed. All we have to do is get Arrions and the Key back."
Elliott smirked. "And find Seth and his Key, assuming the Dead King hasn't got him yet. And get Justinia's back. Speaking of Justinia, where is Justinia?"
Laisa smiled beatifically. "She is learning the value of the wisdom of the ancients. She will not return for a week."
"I might not have a week!"
"On the contrary, you have some time yet. Time enough, I think, to return to the Gates and attempt again to shut them."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Laisa, you're overlooking one thing. The last time we tried that, we burnt an inflammable city. We just don't know how to shut the Gates. Without my grandmother's book for guidance, we are completely and utterly useless."
"And dead," Elliott chirped.
Mi-Sheir poked him. "Stop saying that. You're not going to die."
"Am so."
"Are not."
"Am - "
"Children," Laisa interjected. "Please. Is it something about your mortality that causes you to behave in such a fashion? The Gates can be shut again. Perhaps you were simply the wrong Key-holders."
"What're we supposed to do?" Marisa asked, and there was something soft and dangerous in her voice. "Hold auditions? 'Come to the Gates next autumn, try your luck at preserving the world for the Living'? It shouldn't matter who the Key-holders are!"
"Maybe," Mi-Sheir said, "we need more necromancers."
Everyone looked at her, except Elliott, who was seized by another coughing fit.
"I mean," the girl continued, "last time you had two, but they were both Key-holders, right? Don't you need a third? I read that somewhere."
"Damn it all," Nick said despairingly. "We completely forgot that."
"That," Elliott muttered, "explains a lot. Also, we are totally doomed. Because, guess what? We don't have any necromancers anymore."
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