Post by Seek on May 5, 2013 0:00:08 GMT 10
Title: Coronation
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 881 words
Summary: Buri saves Raoul's life in a desert gorge.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Crossfire series.
Warnings: Violence. Possibly graphic.
-
The Great Southern Desert is nothing at all like the dry hills and steppes of Sarain, which she calls home. There are gorges here; perilous valleys which their Bazhir guide informs them to stay clear off. Buri asks him why. “Flash floods,” Malik says. “In there, you’d be dead before you see the water come down on you.” Her Rider Group glances at each other, but no one dares to challenge Malik. Not when they see how earnest his expression is.
The Riders use ponies; her Onon is scruffy, bred for endurance. In the desert, Malik informs them they must judge their pace carefully. Their horses will need water, and they mustn’t over-tire them. Buri drinks this all in; the Riders must be able to function in any part of Tortall, and she knows nothing of this Tortallan desert.
The King’s Own is barely enough; while they’re all light calvary, they’re still calvary, with staying power of their own, and that means they’re slow. Thayet thinks back to their days in Sarain, the light horses and ambush tactics of the K’miri and proposes the creation of an irregular force: the Queen’s Riders.
They pass an upright stone marker, and Malik frowns.
“What’s wrong?” Buri asks him. Anything that gives their guide pause is something worth taking note of.
Malik glances at her. “That’s a trail marker,” he says quietly. “The Bazhir use stone markers to leave warnings between the tribes. Sometimes, they use thread, but that’s easily lost in a sandstorm. This one marks hillmen territory.”
“Hillmen?”
“Bandits,” Malik says shortly. “Thieves and raiders. No decent tribe deals with the hillmen except by the sword. But…” He draws his dun mare to a halt, and takes a closer look at the marker. His hand shimmers with the grey fire of his Gift, and then he touches the marker. Bright blue flashes in an instant; a series of signs that Buri knows. “Who…?” Malik whispers softly. “Someone’s tampered with the marker.”
Buri curses, instinctively, in K’miri.
“What?” Malik asks instantly, turning to her. “Do you recognise these?”
“Tortallan trail signs,” Buri says. “It’s the King’s Own. The Third Company.” Raoul, who doesn’t know Bazhir trail signs, riding into the middle of hillmen territory.
Malik pales. “They’re walking straight into an ambush.”
-
The ambush takes place in a deep gorge. Onon is restive; he hears the sounds of battle first. He calms as Buri strokes his mane and whispers softly in K’miri. She takes point, along with Malik, who knows the territory the best. Hillmen archers line the lip of the gorge. Deep in the gorge, Raoul and his men are clashing with the hillmen.
She signals, and her Riders string recurves, quickly and quietly. Their best bet is to hit the hillmen hard and swiftly. She ties the reins to her saddle horn so she doesn’t drop them. Onon is well-trained in the K’miri way of riding; she’s done this since she was first considered old enough to ride a horse, shifting her balance with his movements.
She flashes them the signal to engage; whispers to Malik, who nods. He raises his hands. Fog-grey magic surrounds them, and then spreads out across the lip of the gorge. As the hillmen exclaim and realise they’re under attack, Buri’s Riders charge and close in. There’s no acquiring targets under these conditions, but at a count of three, Malik drops the fog. They are among the hillmen now, and it takes only a second to aim and loose. Rider arrows bury themselves in hillmen archers, and then their ponies take them past the group of archers and back. Buri sets another arrow to her bow, and aims, guiding Onon back into the group.
The other Riders form up smoothly behind her; she hears some of them draw blades. They hit the archers again, and the line of hillmen archers breaks. Grey and scarlet magic entwine; she follows the direction of the Gift-fire and realises that Malik is fighting with a hillman shaman.
She looses. An arrow buries itself in the distracted shaman’s throat and the scarlet fire dies with him. Malik nods his thanks as they ride up to him. “Where’s the entrance to the gorge?” Buri demands. They’ve relieved some of the pressure on Raoul, but this won’t be enough. They have to enter the gorge, and hit the raiders from behind. If they do this right, they can be the hammer to Raoul’s anvil.
Malik sees the direction of her thought almost immediately. His tribe has been fighting the hillmen, and he knows this area like the back of his hand. “This way,” he says, and Buri calls for her Riders to form up and follow.
-
Raoul’s company is hemmed in, pressed back against the walls of the gorge. A rockfall blocks their escape. Buri’s Riders, nine of them, and completely unsuited to this sort of engagement charge and manage to take the hillmen by surprise.
Raoul bellows, and his own men form up. “We don’t want to let those Riders gloat, do we?” They surge forward with renewed strength, and between the men of the King’s Own and nine Riders and a Bazhir guide, the hillmen are completely defeated.
The look of gratitude on Raoul’s face says everything he doesn’t.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 881 words
Summary: Buri saves Raoul's life in a desert gorge.
Pairing: Buri/Raoul
Round/Fight: 1D
Notes: Part of the Crossfire series.
Warnings: Violence. Possibly graphic.
-
The Great Southern Desert is nothing at all like the dry hills and steppes of Sarain, which she calls home. There are gorges here; perilous valleys which their Bazhir guide informs them to stay clear off. Buri asks him why. “Flash floods,” Malik says. “In there, you’d be dead before you see the water come down on you.” Her Rider Group glances at each other, but no one dares to challenge Malik. Not when they see how earnest his expression is.
The Riders use ponies; her Onon is scruffy, bred for endurance. In the desert, Malik informs them they must judge their pace carefully. Their horses will need water, and they mustn’t over-tire them. Buri drinks this all in; the Riders must be able to function in any part of Tortall, and she knows nothing of this Tortallan desert.
The King’s Own is barely enough; while they’re all light calvary, they’re still calvary, with staying power of their own, and that means they’re slow. Thayet thinks back to their days in Sarain, the light horses and ambush tactics of the K’miri and proposes the creation of an irregular force: the Queen’s Riders.
They pass an upright stone marker, and Malik frowns.
“What’s wrong?” Buri asks him. Anything that gives their guide pause is something worth taking note of.
Malik glances at her. “That’s a trail marker,” he says quietly. “The Bazhir use stone markers to leave warnings between the tribes. Sometimes, they use thread, but that’s easily lost in a sandstorm. This one marks hillmen territory.”
“Hillmen?”
“Bandits,” Malik says shortly. “Thieves and raiders. No decent tribe deals with the hillmen except by the sword. But…” He draws his dun mare to a halt, and takes a closer look at the marker. His hand shimmers with the grey fire of his Gift, and then he touches the marker. Bright blue flashes in an instant; a series of signs that Buri knows. “Who…?” Malik whispers softly. “Someone’s tampered with the marker.”
Buri curses, instinctively, in K’miri.
“What?” Malik asks instantly, turning to her. “Do you recognise these?”
“Tortallan trail signs,” Buri says. “It’s the King’s Own. The Third Company.” Raoul, who doesn’t know Bazhir trail signs, riding into the middle of hillmen territory.
Malik pales. “They’re walking straight into an ambush.”
-
The ambush takes place in a deep gorge. Onon is restive; he hears the sounds of battle first. He calms as Buri strokes his mane and whispers softly in K’miri. She takes point, along with Malik, who knows the territory the best. Hillmen archers line the lip of the gorge. Deep in the gorge, Raoul and his men are clashing with the hillmen.
She signals, and her Riders string recurves, quickly and quietly. Their best bet is to hit the hillmen hard and swiftly. She ties the reins to her saddle horn so she doesn’t drop them. Onon is well-trained in the K’miri way of riding; she’s done this since she was first considered old enough to ride a horse, shifting her balance with his movements.
She flashes them the signal to engage; whispers to Malik, who nods. He raises his hands. Fog-grey magic surrounds them, and then spreads out across the lip of the gorge. As the hillmen exclaim and realise they’re under attack, Buri’s Riders charge and close in. There’s no acquiring targets under these conditions, but at a count of three, Malik drops the fog. They are among the hillmen now, and it takes only a second to aim and loose. Rider arrows bury themselves in hillmen archers, and then their ponies take them past the group of archers and back. Buri sets another arrow to her bow, and aims, guiding Onon back into the group.
The other Riders form up smoothly behind her; she hears some of them draw blades. They hit the archers again, and the line of hillmen archers breaks. Grey and scarlet magic entwine; she follows the direction of the Gift-fire and realises that Malik is fighting with a hillman shaman.
She looses. An arrow buries itself in the distracted shaman’s throat and the scarlet fire dies with him. Malik nods his thanks as they ride up to him. “Where’s the entrance to the gorge?” Buri demands. They’ve relieved some of the pressure on Raoul, but this won’t be enough. They have to enter the gorge, and hit the raiders from behind. If they do this right, they can be the hammer to Raoul’s anvil.
Malik sees the direction of her thought almost immediately. His tribe has been fighting the hillmen, and he knows this area like the back of his hand. “This way,” he says, and Buri calls for her Riders to form up and follow.
-
Raoul’s company is hemmed in, pressed back against the walls of the gorge. A rockfall blocks their escape. Buri’s Riders, nine of them, and completely unsuited to this sort of engagement charge and manage to take the hillmen by surprise.
Raoul bellows, and his own men form up. “We don’t want to let those Riders gloat, do we?” They surge forward with renewed strength, and between the men of the King’s Own and nine Riders and a Bazhir guide, the hillmen are completely defeated.
The look of gratitude on Raoul’s face says everything he doesn’t.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!