FIC: Broken English - Part 13 - (Giles/Ethan) - R
Yay, two chapters in two days! More plot. Gearing up for the last major sequence before the end. Next chapter is already finished. Will post it tomorrow.
TITLE: Broken English Part 12
PAIRING: Giles/Ethan
RATING: will eventually be R
SPOILERS: Set after 8x04 The Long Way Home (comics); set in Germany, btw
PROMPT: a vacation or roadtrip, magic, slash
WRITTEN FOR: spikendru
Sorry, unbeta'd.
PREVIOUS PARTS: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12
... a towering, solid mass of earth and stone, vaguely shaped like an enormous bear, bursts from the ground, surrounded by pebbles and lumps of earth that should by rights follow gravity and scatter to the ground. Yet, the debris does not settle. Instead, it swirls and spins around the dark, solid creature in its center, like an asteroid belt gone mad.
The stench of rot and wet earth is overpowering.
Ethan is hit by a wave of nausea, only it is quickly overtaken by panic. The entity they have just woken isn’t just a plain old earth elemental. They’ve woken a ‘Galdrar’, an elemental lord. Infinitely more powerful, and apparently pretty pissed off.
Brilliant!
***
It may be possible to bribe on ordinary forest or earth spirit with a flask full of whiskey. Elemental lords are a different matter. They trade in promises and favours. Still, after some haggling Giles gets what they need most. No, not a teleportation spell to a warm sunny beach with Mai Tais and excellent medical facilities, even elemental lords have their limits, but a guide, transport, and the promise of shelter.
Their guide comes in the shape of a bluish dancing light, a will-o’-the-wisp. As for the transport, well, beggars can’t be choosy. Giles looks comfortable enough on the back of his mount, a white antlered deer as big as a horse. Ethan is less happy with his mount, an enormous black boar, with gleaming tusks and a rocky gait, but the animals are warm, and, more importantly, sure-footed. They carry their riders up and down narrow, winding slopes that Ethan wouldn’t have dared to walk in the light of day, let alone at night.
The forest is eerily quiet. Even their mounts don’t make a sound. Ethan opens his mouth to ask Giles about his ankle, when suddenly, without warning, the two beasts pick up speed. Like horses on a race track they rush through the silent forest, past looming trees and jagged boulders. Hanging on seems like madness, but letting go seems worse. Ethan digs his fingers into the boar’s coarse fur, and then, after a violent lurch, the ground is gone and they’re soaring through the dark. Ethan looks down and wishes he hadn’t. There’s a chasm beneath them, and at its bottom a glittering jagged line, a brook or river. Ethan can hear it rush in its bed.
A moment later, Ethan is almost thrown off, as the boar lands on the other side of the chasm. Ahead of him Giles is swaying, but he, too, manages to stay on. From then on the way leads mostly downwards until, finally, Ethan makes out a clearing and in its middle the dark shape of a tall building. A tower!
The will-o’-the-wisp dances across the snow-covered clearing and stops right next to a dark entrance. In its light it becomes clear that this isn’t a medieval ruin but a fairly modern, albeit neglected building. Its stolid no-frill architecture and the remains of metal railings and antenna on the flat roof betray its former military purpose. This must be one of the many watchtowers that used to guard the Inner German border and that were abandoned, when the two Germanies reunited.
The animals stop at the edge of the clearing. Ethan tries to spur his boar onwards, but the creature slowly turns its head to look at him. At the sight of its tusks and glowing red eyes, Ethan hastily slides off its back.
The boar gives off a snort that could be interpreted as laughter, then it starts to fade, like fog melting into the ground. Ethan rushes forward to help Giles dismount. Moments later, the white deer is gone as well.
The two mages regard the tower. “Not exactly the Ritz,” Ethan says, with forced cheer, “but it beats the middle of bloody nowhere. Come on, let’s get you inside. The formidable Miss Summers and her witch will find you here in no time.”
Together they stumble towards the tower. Giles is unable to walk without help. It is a load Ethan gladly shoulders, but of course Giles is too stubborn to put all his weight on Ethan. By the time they reach the tower, Giles looks gray and worn. His hand is clammy and cold sweat glistens on his face. And then he just collapses in Ethan’s arms. Out cold.
Great.
“Stupid git,” Ethan grumbles. He shoulders Giles in a fireman’s carry and staggers into the tower. It is pitch black inside. Glass crunches under his feet. The will-o’-the-wisp guides him up a flight of stairs to a large room without windows or furniture, before it winks out of existence, leaving Ethan and his heavy burden in complete darkness.
After making sure that there aren’t any sharp objects on the floor, Ethan lowers Giles to the floor. He shrugs out of his waistcoat and puts it under Giles’s head. Not much of a pillow but better than bare concrete. Then he searches Giles’s pockets. There! Three spells stored inside small semi-precious stones: light, warmth and healing. Everything they need to make it through the night. Unless of course the elemental lord double-crossed them….
No, the stones are warm to the touch, and easy to tell apart by their magical aura. Ethan is too exhausted to activate them the subtle way. His knife is gone, but he doesn’t need it to reopen the shallow cut in his palm. A few drops of blood are enough. The first spellstone starts to glow from within, warm and yellow, like the flame of a candle, only brighter. Sorcerer’s blood. Always an excellent catalyst.
The second stone reacts just as promptly. First it greedily soaks up Ethan’s blood then it becomes so hot that Ethan has to drop it. It looks like a tiny piece of burning coal, but it radiates more heat than a camp-fire.
The healing spell takes longer to cast. Giles’s ankle is a mess, black and blue and hideously swollen. No wonder Giles passed out. Ethan is not a healer by inclination. His interest in the human body and drugs has always leaned towards the recreational. However, after half an hour he is satisfied that he has done all he can.
Giles’s unconsciousness has turned into a fitful sleep. Ethan can tell that Giles is dreaming.
Tempting. Where does Rupert go when he’s asleep? Is his sleep troubled? Are his dreams a source of strength? Or is his dreamspace inhabited by nightmares, with fangs and claws? What would he say if Ethan were to walk into his dreamspace, unannounced and uninvited? After all, Giles is a very private man.
Only one way to find out.
TBC
TITLE: Broken English Part 12
PAIRING: Giles/Ethan
RATING: will eventually be R
SPOILERS: Set after 8x04 The Long Way Home (comics); set in Germany, btw
PROMPT: a vacation or roadtrip, magic, slash
WRITTEN FOR: spikendru
Sorry, unbeta'd.
PREVIOUS PARTS: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12
... a towering, solid mass of earth and stone, vaguely shaped like an enormous bear, bursts from the ground, surrounded by pebbles and lumps of earth that should by rights follow gravity and scatter to the ground. Yet, the debris does not settle. Instead, it swirls and spins around the dark, solid creature in its center, like an asteroid belt gone mad.
The stench of rot and wet earth is overpowering.
Ethan is hit by a wave of nausea, only it is quickly overtaken by panic. The entity they have just woken isn’t just a plain old earth elemental. They’ve woken a ‘Galdrar’, an elemental lord. Infinitely more powerful, and apparently pretty pissed off.
Brilliant!
***
It may be possible to bribe on ordinary forest or earth spirit with a flask full of whiskey. Elemental lords are a different matter. They trade in promises and favours. Still, after some haggling Giles gets what they need most. No, not a teleportation spell to a warm sunny beach with Mai Tais and excellent medical facilities, even elemental lords have their limits, but a guide, transport, and the promise of shelter.
Their guide comes in the shape of a bluish dancing light, a will-o’-the-wisp. As for the transport, well, beggars can’t be choosy. Giles looks comfortable enough on the back of his mount, a white antlered deer as big as a horse. Ethan is less happy with his mount, an enormous black boar, with gleaming tusks and a rocky gait, but the animals are warm, and, more importantly, sure-footed. They carry their riders up and down narrow, winding slopes that Ethan wouldn’t have dared to walk in the light of day, let alone at night.
The forest is eerily quiet. Even their mounts don’t make a sound. Ethan opens his mouth to ask Giles about his ankle, when suddenly, without warning, the two beasts pick up speed. Like horses on a race track they rush through the silent forest, past looming trees and jagged boulders. Hanging on seems like madness, but letting go seems worse. Ethan digs his fingers into the boar’s coarse fur, and then, after a violent lurch, the ground is gone and they’re soaring through the dark. Ethan looks down and wishes he hadn’t. There’s a chasm beneath them, and at its bottom a glittering jagged line, a brook or river. Ethan can hear it rush in its bed.
A moment later, Ethan is almost thrown off, as the boar lands on the other side of the chasm. Ahead of him Giles is swaying, but he, too, manages to stay on. From then on the way leads mostly downwards until, finally, Ethan makes out a clearing and in its middle the dark shape of a tall building. A tower!
The will-o’-the-wisp dances across the snow-covered clearing and stops right next to a dark entrance. In its light it becomes clear that this isn’t a medieval ruin but a fairly modern, albeit neglected building. Its stolid no-frill architecture and the remains of metal railings and antenna on the flat roof betray its former military purpose. This must be one of the many watchtowers that used to guard the Inner German border and that were abandoned, when the two Germanies reunited.
The animals stop at the edge of the clearing. Ethan tries to spur his boar onwards, but the creature slowly turns its head to look at him. At the sight of its tusks and glowing red eyes, Ethan hastily slides off its back.
The boar gives off a snort that could be interpreted as laughter, then it starts to fade, like fog melting into the ground. Ethan rushes forward to help Giles dismount. Moments later, the white deer is gone as well.
The two mages regard the tower. “Not exactly the Ritz,” Ethan says, with forced cheer, “but it beats the middle of bloody nowhere. Come on, let’s get you inside. The formidable Miss Summers and her witch will find you here in no time.”
Together they stumble towards the tower. Giles is unable to walk without help. It is a load Ethan gladly shoulders, but of course Giles is too stubborn to put all his weight on Ethan. By the time they reach the tower, Giles looks gray and worn. His hand is clammy and cold sweat glistens on his face. And then he just collapses in Ethan’s arms. Out cold.
Great.
“Stupid git,” Ethan grumbles. He shoulders Giles in a fireman’s carry and staggers into the tower. It is pitch black inside. Glass crunches under his feet. The will-o’-the-wisp guides him up a flight of stairs to a large room without windows or furniture, before it winks out of existence, leaving Ethan and his heavy burden in complete darkness.
After making sure that there aren’t any sharp objects on the floor, Ethan lowers Giles to the floor. He shrugs out of his waistcoat and puts it under Giles’s head. Not much of a pillow but better than bare concrete. Then he searches Giles’s pockets. There! Three spells stored inside small semi-precious stones: light, warmth and healing. Everything they need to make it through the night. Unless of course the elemental lord double-crossed them….
No, the stones are warm to the touch, and easy to tell apart by their magical aura. Ethan is too exhausted to activate them the subtle way. His knife is gone, but he doesn’t need it to reopen the shallow cut in his palm. A few drops of blood are enough. The first spellstone starts to glow from within, warm and yellow, like the flame of a candle, only brighter. Sorcerer’s blood. Always an excellent catalyst.
The second stone reacts just as promptly. First it greedily soaks up Ethan’s blood then it becomes so hot that Ethan has to drop it. It looks like a tiny piece of burning coal, but it radiates more heat than a camp-fire.
The healing spell takes longer to cast. Giles’s ankle is a mess, black and blue and hideously swollen. No wonder Giles passed out. Ethan is not a healer by inclination. His interest in the human body and drugs has always leaned towards the recreational. However, after half an hour he is satisfied that he has done all he can.
Giles’s unconsciousness has turned into a fitful sleep. Ethan can tell that Giles is dreaming.
Tempting. Where does Rupert go when he’s asleep? Is his sleep troubled? Are his dreams a source of strength? Or is his dreamspace inhabited by nightmares, with fangs and claws? What would he say if Ethan were to walk into his dreamspace, unannounced and uninvited? After all, Giles is a very private man.
Only one way to find out.
TBC