Demimind: Chapter 6

(6)Summer-Heat, Spring-Bringer

“There’s a naked woman at the gates!” A guard yells to his partner. “What do we do?”

“Is she good looking?” His partner asks, plainly bored.

“Yes!”

“Just gawk at her until she leaves. If she doesn’t have any clothes she’s probably a prostitute, and we’ve no shortage of prostitutes.”

Summer hears all of this as she’s walking up, and has half a mind to incinerate both of them. She’s not sure what stops her, really. It’s as if a part of her rebels against the idea on general principle. Strange.

“Hey!” She shouts up at the guards. “Let me in! I need to talk to Bringer-of-Spring!”

“You and every other pregnant smith’s daughter around here, milady. What makes you so special as to take Spring’s ear? He’s a very busy demigod,” The bored guard replies, though not impolitely.

“My name is Summer-Heat-Rising. I’m here to talk with Spring about a very important problem. And he isn’t a demigod, I can tell you that much!” She says fiercely. Boy, she really is tired of… wait, what was her problem again? She blinks. She knows she had it a second ago.

What is it about being physical that makes memory so weird? She shakes her head to clear it. “Look, just let me in! I’m not a prostitute, I just want the chance to talk to Bringer-of-Spring!”

The gate guard sighs. He seems to think for another few seconds, tapping his chin and staring at Summer intently. Then he nods to himself before he answers.

“Okay. My partner here can show you around town-” the gatekeeper says, glancing across at his friend’s shocked face. His partner hasn’t said anything since Summer started talking. Admittedly the woman has a nice voice, but there isn’t really any call for that sort of behavior. Totally unprofessional.

“I don’t need any help,” Summer says cheerfully. “Just open the gates and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Begging your pardon, milady, but you’re not even half dressed. If you pop on in here lookin’ like that…. Well, I should think the madness of Spring spread in half the men’s heads- without an escort you’ll end up on your back and bearing well before your nine months is up and might earn another baby besides! Let Thomas here walk you around town, even the madness won’t let men touch taken women.”

Summer blinks at that, and then looks at her belly, which is rounded, moreso than usual, and maybe a little heavier than she’s used to. She’s pregnant?

She rubs her belly doubtfully. She doesn’t feel pregnant. She doesn’t remember doing anything to get pregnant! But her stomach is much warmer than usual too, and it doesn’t fit with her small frame. Or what used to be small. As Summer-Heat-Rising- she changed, right?- she is almost five foot six inches, taller than most men.

She hears a sigh and looks up. Thomas is giving her a look one part frustration and one part longing. She gives him her brightest smile instead of torching his lips off. Men can want her if they like. It doesn’t bother her like it used to. Does it?

She beckons. “Come on down then… Thomas? Show me around the city, won’t you?”

“Y-yes ma’am. Right away,” The guard comes to himself, snapping out of his stare with a blush. Now he’s making a point of not looking at her as he walks down the ramp leading up to the tower and closes the wicker gate that leads up to it.

He walks right up next to her, pointedly keeping his eyes on her face, though she notices them flick down over her body out of reflex several times. Hm. It was fun to be naked before. What makes it less fun now? She forces the beginnings of a blush down. This feeling is making her uncomfortable.

Summer-Heat-Rising can’t help but feel that it might be better, under the circumstances, to have enough coverage to keep people from staring nonstop. Whatever she might tell herself, she gets the feeling she doesn’t actually like being naked in front of lots of people.

Good to see you’ve some common sense, a cool voice whispers in her mind.

Summer pays it little enough mind, at first, but it occurs to her that it wasn’t her thought. Strange.

She gathers her power, pulls it into herself, and forces strands of it outward, lips pressed tight with concentration. Grass uproots itself, twines around her tightly, weaving breeches- and then a skirt- long enough and woven delicately as any work by hand. She twines it, tweaks it with little flicks of her power until it also forms a T-shirt- all green- and the two articles connect, woven as strongly as a second skin, flexing with her body and her curves.

Thomas just watches, open-mouthed, barely daring to believe his eyes.

Once Summer is done, she gives Thomas a smile, coyer than the last and indicates the city with a wave of her hand. “Do show me around. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Thomas the gate guard nods weakly, and leads her past the open gates and into the bustle of the town.

Summer, for what  it’s worth, follows after. She isn’t quite skipping, but it’s only a matter of time. She feels light and happy for some reason.

All eyes are preoccupied, in the town, much to Summer’s relief. Thomas can’t help but think that’s rather strange- Summer is very noticeable, even in her makeshift grass clothing- perhaps especially with it. But there’s a certain something in the air that seems to have infected all the people. Couples giggle, strolling around, hugging, kissing openly. Stalls and stores are left unattended. Houses are left with their doors wide open.

“Why isn’t anyone working?” Summer wonders aloud. She knows Thomas will answer her before he opens his mouth. So simple.

“It’s Spring, miss. The first day, he came and now- well, every fortnight he holds a grand festival, every three days he declares a day of rest, and he encourages people to make merry and love in the streets.” Thomas blushes and doesn’t meet her eyes. “I thought you said you knew him, miss?”

Summer shrugs her curved shoulders and gives him a silly grin. “I may and I mayn’t.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

She rolls her eyes. For a moment Thomas can’t help but feel that she’s making fun of him constantly. “An answer to everything.”

He is very careful not to let out the derisive snort that wants so badly to escape. It doesn’t work, of course. Summer can read him like a book. He can keep nothing from her- and they’ve just met. But it’s like that way with everyone, for Summer.

“Don’t believe me?” She asks innocently.

“Miss, you do play me for a fool,” He says quietly. They walk down the street, occasionally stepping over a coupling couple. It isn’t quite that obscene, Summer thinks. But there are people sleeping together in the streets, even if they aren’t sleeping together in the streets.

She finds the experience distinctly odd.

“You could just tell me straight off that you don’t want to say anything on the subject. Oh- we’re here,” Thomas says, stopping short directly in front of the entrance to a grand, luxurious building. The words ‘Spring Shrine’ are emblazoned on the sign at the top in Eldritch. Summer recognizes them immediately, of course. How she’d forgotten them… she can’t quite remember- it’s as if her memories are slipping through her figurative fingers.

She knows she’s seen similar runes before, but for the life of her she can’t remember where.

“This is it?” Summer asks. She doesn’t need clarification, but it pays to keep up appearances.

“Yeah,” Thomas mumbles. “Uh.”

“We can talk more when I come out. Do be a dear and go back to your post. Thomas, right?”

“Yes miss. And you’re Summer. Nice meeting you- I’ll just, ah. I’ll just go, I guess. Give me a shout if you need anything!” He says brightly. He starts off towards the gate, and Summer walks up to the entrance to the shrine.

It’s built of hard wood- mahogany reinforced with iron. Around the edges of the roof- which slants sharply- there’s copper, and pillars of brass hold the structure up. It’s quite extravagant, and Summer can’t help but admire the use of such pretty metals. Hm.

There’s that voice again.

Iron… oh, that sounds dangerous… do be careful…

Summer scratches her head, but the itch in her mind doesn’t go away. What was it about iron?

It weakens us on contact, you dummy. You sure forget a lot when I’m gone….

The cold voice sparks recall, all at once. Just as the man known as Bringer-of-Spring steps in front of her, out from behind a pillar where he’d been waiting all along. He smiles warmly. “Well. I wondered how long it’d be before you came. I’m glad you’re here now, though, it saves me the trouble of finding you again.”

Summer is about to take a step back, but her foot moves forward instead, and she finds herself standing too close to him. Her skin heats up, and she means to step back, really she does, but her body doesn’t want to obey her. Bringer-of-Spring grins down at her, showing off too-white teeth. This close, he isn’t warm, but cool, frighteningly cool. Summer shivers, despite herself. Too warm for Winter, too cold for Summer, she thinks.

Spring’s skin is greenish. He stands much taller than Summer- by almost a foot. His hair stands straight up from his head in a moronic fashion, and one tooth is missing, giving his smile a gap-toothed effect. It’s probably his genuinely punchable face, Summer decides. He’s full of life, animated, but in a way that reminds her of a plant or a sapling being pushed by wind rather than any animal she could care to remember and name.

And just then, with Spring looming over her uncomfortably, the clouds in the sky obscure the sun and rain begins to fall. She feels distinctly uneasy. Part of it is her gut, but mostly it has to do with the face staring down at her, with the eyes. Those cold, cold blue eyes that gaze at her, eyes she remembers. That piercing gaze had last been set on her by He-Whose-Name-Shakes-Mountains.

But those same blue eyes rest in the skull of Bringer-of-Spring, and his expression, though on the outside speaks of genuine joy, on the inside hides sparkling ambition and lies, Summer thinks. I recognize it. He-Whose-Name-Shakes-Mountains had a look on His face just like that when He was chasing us around. Well, sort of. It was more like actual good cheer.

Of course, it could just be her imagination. Summer gazes at Spring for a while, letting the moment drag out into an awkward staring contest. Yes, Summer decides, staring up at Spring’s innocent grinning face, it’s probably her imagination.

No one with hair green on the bottom and brown at the tips- standing straight up and waving like grass in a breeze- could be anything other than a complete idiot. If she had something to fear from morons she wouldn’t have let that man- Thomas?- lead her about. It stands to reason that Spring isn’t a threat, or she wouldn’t have been headed here in the first place.

Well then, Winter says in Summer’s head. Are you going in, or are you going to stay out here in the nice cold rain?

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Short Chapter

This chapter was short, in my opinion.

With that in mind, I was thinking about posting its twin today as well and undoing all my hard work at keeping ahead of this schedule in the process.

Well, not really. I’m far enough ahead that’s not likely to be a problem even if I posted a new chapter every day (which would swamp people and basically make it impossible for anyone to keep up, I’m sure)

So with that also in mind, I suppose I’ll have to deal with the subpar length and hope everyone enjoyed it anyway. I don’t want to drown you in walls of text. Really I don’t. New chapter’ll be posted monday unless I have a sudden fit of crazy and post it earlier. Don’t get your hopes up though- I’ve been having a few computer troubles lately which’ll make POSTING things easier… and WRITING things harder. But I’ll deal. I’m good at that by now, I should think.

(No, you don’t get a long involved backstory describing why. I’m not THAT nice.)

-Eris

PS:

Anyone who thinks that chapter was just long enough is a HEATHEN and will be given cocoa for sucking up. Thanks, your support is appreciated always!

Anyone who thinks that chapter was too short is one of the TRUE FAITH and will be given cocoa for sucking up. Thanks, your support is also appreciated always, even as you crush my self-esteem and ruin my day!

(you don’t really ruin my day, please keep reading)

Demimind: Chapter 5

Sixth official story post, fifth official chapter! Enjoy. Also, in an effort to give the new people here a better chance at reading the story from the beginning: Prologue. As well as a link to the chapter page: Chapters. It’s not very visible- it’s in the black bar across the top of the blog. The chapter page has all of the chapters- including this one- from the beginning! Now, without further ado….

(5)SnowBound

It takes a few seconds for Winter to get her bearings. When she is sure Seven-Spinner is gone….

“Summer.”

I’m still here.

“Where do I go?”

It may be a good idea to… well, you know. Find out where you are first.

Winter thinks for a few seconds, then nods. “Okay. In order to do that I should probably find…” She searches her limited memory. “A city?”

A town, a city, a village. It doesn’t really matter which. Any of them have people, and you can ask people for directions.

Winter walks away from the Spider Queen’s domain. Gradually frost laden branches give way to the open area of the forest. Without so many trees blocking her sense, she can feel a strong concentration of life she didn’t notice before, far, far off to the north. It may just be that she’s getting hungry again, but that’s something she doesn’t really want to think about.

Keep moving or I really will fall asleep.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Winter turns east one last time, glancing towards the bowed and broken branches that lead into the nest. She tries to hold it in her mind so she can get back if she needs to. It seems to work, but without any way to test it, it’s hard to tell. She shakes her head, turns to the north, and begins to walk.

At first it seems easy enough. It’s pleasantly cold, and Winter enjoys herself- had she always liked brisk walks through cold forests? It’s difficult to say, but she does know that she likes the way her feet crunch on the cold snow, likes the way the wind whistles through frozen trees. She likes everything about it, even though Summer sleeps soundly in her head.

Actually, maybe she likes it because Summer is asleep in her head. Winter really doesn’t know what to make of her. All she really knows is that Summer is in her mind, talks as if they’ve been together forever, orders her around and takes charge during emergencies- to the dismay of anyone trying to hurt her. Some bits of Summer’s past seem to have leaked through as well. She remembers that Summer had a body, separate from hers but still the same, so that whenever Summer took over people could know which one was which.

She doesn’t know for sure how long Summer has been bound, really, or anything beyond her memory barrier. For all she knows, Summer could be the one who bound herself. It’s a disturbing thought.

And then there is that strange, dangerous entity who murdered Jane. What was His name? He-Whose-Name-Shakes-Mountains is kind of a mouthful. Even if His name shakes mountains she’d almost rather say it instead of have to deal with the alternative. And just what is He?

And her memory. When would she remember everything again? Bits and pieces sort of drift back to her, but beyond when she first came to- in that circle of briar and in the stone room- she can’t remember anything at all. Her earliest memory is of Summer laughing and killing those men. It’s not exactly the most pleasant of things to dwell on. Worse than a blur, most of the stuff before that is simply gone. She doesn’t know who she is- except that she has control of some kind of magic- or what she is, either.

Winter looks up at an out-of-place birdcall. There shouldn’t be any birds at all out in the cold. What she sees takes her breath away.

Without quite realizing it, Winter has walked right to the edge of the forest. And miraculously, here snow seems to stop. The ground in front of her, beyond the edge, is covered with grass which, rather than being stiff and frozen, waves as if in a warm breeze. Small insects hop over the blades of grass mere inches from ice and snow that would freeze them in an instant. As she watches, a butterfly flutters out over a small patch of wildflowers, alights on one, and begins to drink nectar.

She’s standing at the very brink of winter and… summer? No… No, the bloom of life reminds her more of spring… And memories stir as she stands there and stares.

She reaches out, pushes her hand beyond her snow horizon, and it’s as if she’s thrust her hand into the path of a blowtorch. The heat beyond her forest of frost is stifling, ridiculously powerful. She shudders as she draws her hand away. She expects it to be blistered, but her skin is unblemished. It’s a matter of perspective, then, if she wasn’t burned up.

It wakes Summer right up.

Whoa. Yeah, wait, I remember this place. Bringer-of-Spring lives in the town just over there.

Winter follows the thought and sees a collection of small buildings, nestled in the crook of a valley. It isn’t an expansive plain of heat, it’s a little spark in the midst of a cold, foreboding woodland.

“Bringer-of-Spring?”

Yeah. He’s… a relative of ours.

“That’s just spring? How am I going to get by?” Winter asks. She looks around to see if she can see something- like a path of snow up to the gates, or a break in the barrier of heat- but she can’t see heat, of course, she just feels a bit silly.

What, it’s not like a wall or anything. Toughen up-

“No way,” Winter growls, surprising herself. “You’re completely nuts if you think I’m setting one foot through.”

And you’re nuts if you think you can stop me from making you.

And just like that, Summer takes control. Winter doesn’t know where her power goes, whether being in the heat weakened her somehow, or whether she just dropped her guard without thinking. Suddenly, Summer is making her body slide through, step on into the sun and the heat. Trying to dig her heels in does no good- the heat wipes away mind and strength both too quickly, burning her resolve to ash. This is spring? It feels like she’s stepped into a fire.

Winter wants to scream, but she has no mouth. Her body won’t obey her. It’s not her mouth, it’s Summer’s mouth. Summer, who smiles as if it’s the most glorious thing in the world, Summer, who does a little twirl in the long grass, letting it tickle her legs. Winter can’t make her body respond, and the eyes she looks out from no longer feel hers.

“Oh, it’s good to be back!” Summer cries, the widest grin on her face. “So, so good!”

She looks herself all over, and despite Winter’s feeble protests, proceeds to take off all Winter’s conjured clothing. It’s just as well- it had begun to melt in the heat of the sun of this strange new domain. It’s almost sad, watching it hiss and bubble in the dirt as it changes quickly from frost magic to water and then sinks into the soil. Winter saves her sorrow for her predicament- it seems the situation has taken a complete turn- a full reversal from mere moments before. Summer has somehow taken control.

Winter struggles to hang on to her fading mind, as the warmth blasts through layers and layers of carefully structured- if slightly disarrayed- consciousness, a furnace vaporizing a snowflake. Over in an instant, but lasting forever.

When Summer looks down at her arms, Winter notices- dizzily, since the unbearable warmth is taking its toll very quickly- that they are golden brown skinned now instead of pale white, and that her hair has grown into long, flowing white locks instead of her short cut. Her bronzed body is still lithe, still thin, but taller, too, and much stronger. There’s a heaviness in her- well, Summer’s- belly that wasn’t there before. It’s a completely different body, but one that’s familiar to her. She can’t remember now from where it came to her.

Summer takes another few steps forward, then stops, apparently confused. She’d been muzzy before, when Winter had first decided where to go. It doesn’t explain why she’d suddenly forget where the town was, and that much disturbs Winter a little, insofar as it’s possible with her mind boiling away.

“Where was I going?”

North, Winter mumbles weakly, and then she whites out, losing consciousness.

Summer, unperturbed by the loss of her mind-mate, hums to herself as she strolls north, and thus towards the town, enjoying the feel of the grass on her legs and the smell and scent in the air. She’s sure this will be a lovely day, and it’ll be all the lovelier without that fussy fool of a sister behind the wheel.

Why I Write (And ramble)

Okay, so, I know this isn’t really a story post. Promise there’ll be one come friday, likely some crazy time like ten AM or something, since I literally have nothing better to do than write all day and update my story blog. (You’d think I’d update more often, but I have a schedule and it’s enough to keep to a two day consistentlyrather than miss a lot of a three day workweek)

But I just want to make it absolutely crystal clear- I’m writing because I love it. I can sit down every day and tell a story. I can make the words dance whichever way I want them to- and sometimes it’s clumsy and it’s hard to understand, but heck, most dances are like that, as far as I can tell. Or they were when they were just starting out. I’ve been writing for a while, but my excuse is not knowing how to dance. /horrible analogy

 

I’m nuts, too, with the way I write. I don’t have a bloody storyboard all set. I know the general direction of my stories, but, to tell you a special secret that’s super, super special and all mine: I’m writing off of what my characters want to do next. Plot’ll come along with them if you write your characters well. I don’t really like to try to plan things out because I know it’ll just deviate. While I love writing enough to write down chapters and chapters at a time, I don’t hold with traditional storyboards.

And you know, that’s probably okay. I’m not really a traditional author. If I could get paid for this stuff that’d be kind of neat, but I mean, it’d sort of feel fake. If I’m really a writer, I should be writing because I love it. Payment should be secondary for me. That’s how I feel about it. There are surely authors out there who are different, who slide away from that ideal. But my stuff is on here for free because I want to share it, not because I care about advertising. If this book  becomes published- and with plans to put the entire thing up here eventually I don’t see how that could happen- I’m not sure I could stomach taking money for it. Yeah, it was a lot of work. Is a lot of work. It’s stuff from my head, I’m baring bits and pieces of me.

But it’s because the characters are so special to me I don’t know if I could sell them. I’m not so conceited as to pretend they’re priceless- nothing is priceless- but the price would be too high. They’re pieces of my soul. In order to take them as your own, you’d have to give me part of yours. And I’m not actually sure if that’s ethical!

Please, no offers of souls for these characters. Really. They’re mine and I’m sharing. I don’t want anything but the knowledge that someone out there enjoys reading my stuff. Even if it’s just me, it’ll make it worth it to push keys on my keyboard until the whole thing is done.

Off topic! That was all off topic. What I mean to say is, I’m writing because I love writing, not for commercial gain. Um. I think. Maybe that was obvious. Was that obvious? I think that was obvious. But I already knew it. So uh. Yeah.

Next chapter’ll be up Friday. If you’ll excuse me, I need to find some breakfast and finish writing the next installment to maintain the buffer.

I hope everyone is enjoying the fourth official chapter. It was as much fun to write as the rest, and as a bonus it seems to have thickened the Plot.

-Eris

Demimind: Chapter 4

(4)Spider Queen

I was only trying to help, Summer gripes. God and Cycle, you get so angry sometimes… It’s really kind of childish.

“Drop it, Summer,” Winter says quietly. “We’ve been over this.”

She feels edgy for some reason. It isn’t her power levels- she still feels full up from the two men she… she murdered. No, that’s not the problem. Something is off, as she trudges through the snow, the unconscious woman over one shoulder. It’s not just the still air, either. The trees are all bent inward, creating perpetual shade. Underbrush is so thick it creates actual barriers in places, and she is forced to clear them, one handed, from her path before moving on. But the lifeforce she sensed from so far off is very near.

Of that she is sure.

Summer’s prior behavior disturbs her. Summer’s inclination for murder, even to stay alive, disturbs her. Winter shudders a little at the thought. It’s a small part of her, but there IS a piece of her that enjoyed taking that lifeforce, taking their energy.

What would you have done without my help?

Winter doesn’t know the answer to that. She lets her lips settle into a tight line and continues moving east. The crunch of her feet on the hard ice and snow is the only noise. Yes, it’s certainly an uneasy silence…

And it’s… much warmer here, somehow. As if the whole of the forest is heating up as she moves deeper into its clutches.

The sun will be gone soon, and then it will be truly dark. Winter doesn’t know how she knows this. It just feels like the truth.

She comes to a bush, a hedge about head-height, and she’s about to tear it aside when something catches her eye. There’s something shining in the middle of it. Without thinking, she reaches out, reaches in and wraps her fingers around it, tugging it out. Silken strands stick to her hand as she does so, but with her spell augmented strength, it matters very little. Winter pulls it out. It’s little more than a bead, and she recognizes the material immediately. Illmetal. Like the stone in her pocket.

She just stares at it for a while.

Hey! You can use this stuff to wish me unbound again! Summer cuts in.

“Yeah,” Winter says absently.

Do you remember how to build the pillar?

“Vaguely. Bronze, silver, copper. Twine it in veins around lime and stone.” The recitation comes as from a long lost dream, or a memory. She tries to catch hold of it, but it slips through her fingers and drops out of sight.

Winter pockets the tiny piece of magic metal in the back of her jeans. It’s then that she sees the silken strands all around her, and feels the lifeforce she’d tracked stir. After another few moments, something huge and spider-like drops down behind her. Summer shouts a warning, but Winter turns around slowly.

“I know you. Who are you?” She asks simply. “I felt I needed to come here. Are you who I came to see?”

It’s a damn great spider! You never told me about it!

No, it’s not a spider,  Winter thinks to herself. It’s too tall and the wrong shape.

She’s right, she can see that as the spider-creature steps a little closer. It’s really more like a human-spider hybrid.

It has a glossy, smooth yellow carapace dappled with red over its abdomen, and four spider legs joined smoothly to a woman’s waist to support the abdomen- which is smaller than Winter expected. It has the upper half of a woman as well, reared up where its head normally would be. Her bald head nearly brushes the ceiling. She seems to have the normal number of eyes at least- two- and a sharp nose. Her ears are missing, which Winter finds a little strange, but she decides not to comment.

The spider-woman opens her mouth, baring four fangs. Rather than speaking with it, she clicks a foreleg against her other, supplementing the gesture with snaps from her fingers and the occasional hiss.

Like when Jane had first talked to her, Winter imagines words in the noises, a hidden language. She finds herself recovering from her shock quickly.

[With respect, it must be the greatest of heroes to our people, Long-Frost. You are unaware of who you are to us?]

“I’ve… been out of touch,” Winter replies, and then sighs. “Who are you?”

[This humble servant is Seven-Spinner. I can take Long-Frost to see Ever-Widowed, if it would please her.]

“Could you take my charge here, as well?”

[Yes! It is customary to take gifts to Ever-Widowed. Is it slave or food?]

“Neither! She is a friend.”

The spider-woman blinks. Then she shrugs- it’s complicated, for Winter notices now that she has four arms in addition to her four legs. Very strange.

[If Long-Frost wishes to bring friend to give to Ever-Widowed, this is fine as well?]

Just get it over with and fry her before she makes a move, will you?

“Take me to Ever-Widowed, then.” Winter says, ignoring Summer.

The spider-creature leans forward, pulls Winter up into her grip bodily- along with the nameless woman- hangs, for a moment, by threads before she begins reeling herself back in. The silk strands are surprisingly durable.

Winter feels more than a little uncomfortable, so close to a virtual unknown. Summer seems to share her unease.

This is not going to end well, Summer warns. They’re a people I know virtually nothing about, and I don’t know what they’re saying.

Winter doesn’t want to open her mouth to respond, so she just holds the unconscious form of her rescued acquaintance closer. The ride is fast and sickening- landscape, trees, branches, leaves- air, it all flies by in a blur. Unsure exactly where she’s being yanked, she figures it can’t hurt to just close her eyes and wait for the sense of motion to stop.

Mercifully, it is only a few minutes of that heart-wrenching treatment before they seem to have arrived.

Something is different, though. Here it is warm, and out of the wind. Winter opens her eyes. Summer watches, mental lips pursed, as Winter tries to get her bearings.

When the world stops spinning, she sees that they are surrounded by spiders, spider-creatures similar to the one who brought them here- all female-, and standing before them is a woman with eight arms and two legs. She is otherwise nothing truly extraordinary.

Further, they are standing on a funnel of smooth spider silk. The ground under them is swaying slightly, as if in a breeze, and Winter gets the distinct feeling that she is quite high off the ground here.

You’re insane. This is insane. You’re going to get us killed, Summer says grimly.

“Shut up,” Winter hisses. “Not helping.”

“There’s a language I haven’t heard in a while,” The woman says. Her eight arms come right out from her shoulders, which are massive in comparison with the rest of her body. They’re thin, but her fingers end in claws, and when she speaks her mouth bares fangs. It’s a bit of a surprise that Winter can understand her at all. Summer is equally surprised that it’s a language she can understand.

She speaks English? That’s a little weird, Summer remarks quietly.

“How do you know me?” Winter asks, ignoring Summer. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of this reintroduction stuff, at least until she can get her memory back.

The eight-armed one smiles. “Oh, Winter. My people call you ‘Long-Frost’. We were childhood friends. We’ve known one another for a long, long time. I hear you’ve lost your memory.”

Winter frowns and folds her arms. “I may’ve,” She says uneasily. How could she have heard? It’d been all of a day since she had, right? Maybe less.

“If you can’t remember me, I find it unlikely you haven’t lost your memory. Is Summer still around, or did you finally find a way to rid yourself of her?” There’s an edge to her voice.

“Who are you. Tell me who you are, first.”

“My name is Ever-Widowed. But I’d feel better if you called me Silk. It might help your memory return. My servant is Seven-Spinner, and these-” She waves a hand grandly, including all the spiders, the entire silken cavern. “-are my subjects, my people. Now…”

“Summer is still in my head. She’s been-”

Don’t tell her I’m bound.

Winter pauses for a moment, then continues. “She’s asleep, Silk.”

“Well I’m sure the heat will wake her up. So let’s cool it down a little. Seven-Spinner, be a dear and chew a hole in the ceiling, won’t you?” The named spider-creature bows at the waist and then hurries off to do as she’s told. There’s a very distinct ripping noise somewhere high above them both.

“Why?” Winter asks as cool air leaks in from the ceiling. “What’s wrong with Summer?”

“Why, last time you were here and she was awake, she went on a murderous rampage and killed over half of my people! I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you, as I’m sure she’d rather you didn’t know,” Ever-Widowed says sharply. “We assumed you must not have been in control at the time.”

What? Why the hell would I have done that?

Summer is genuinely bewildered. I’d think I’d remember doing something like that. I mean, it’d be sticking in my head if I had to kill that many spiders. And I’ve never even seen their kind before.

That doesn’t really make sense, no, Winter thinks to herself. Why indeed? Summer is spiteful, sure, and occasionally mean, but there’s no way she’d attack so many people for no good reason. There’d be no challenge if they were innocent, and in all her memories of Summer being in control, there are none where she has willfully killed people who weren’t actively threatening her. Summer may occasionally be careless, but she’d never hurt a bystander. That’d mean that Ever-Widowed’s people probably attacked first.

Which, in itself is rather a scary thought. Still, it’s probably just a mistake. Don’t burn any bridges. Or cut any silken cords, or whatever.

But she can’t bring it up- she claimed Summer was asleep, after all.

The warmth- uncomfortable for Winter- seeps away, and a welcome chilly breeze leaks in instead. Summer finds herself getting a little drowsy again.

“So what brings you here, Winter? Why did you decide to come?” Silk asks quietly. “Or, if your memory is truly broken, what prompted your return? What gave you the idea that this might be safe?”

She shakes her head. “I came here because I felt life in this direction, and-”

“Did you come here to feed?” Ever-Widowed asks sharply. “I haven’t got servants to spare for that. Seven-Spinner is the only one I have left, really.”

Winter shudders openly, shakes her head again vehemently. “You’re mad if you think I want to- to do that ever again. I came here because this woman was being held captive and she’s dreadfully cold and I don’t know what to do with her,” She says, indicating the woman she’d brought. Even as she lies there she seems to shiver with the chill.

“Well you’ll need to feed eventually,” The Spider Matriarch responds. She seems to relax a little. “As to your friend, I’m not sure why you’d bring her to me. I’m not really known for my warm hospitality- I live in a forest that’s been cold as long as you’ve been alive. There’s rumors about that we eat our guests, can you believe that?”

She smiles. “It’s good to see you’ve still breath in your lungs, Winter. I’ve missed you.”

Winter is taken aback by that. No one had ever- as far as she could remember- missed her before.

It’s a trap. Without a doubt, Summer warns, stifling a mental yawn.

Comforting, Winter thinks, though she doesn’t respond.

“Now, do you need a place to stay?” Silk asks quietly. She takes a half-step forward towards Winter, but seems to think better of it, and returns to where she was. There’s something like uneasiness between them, and Winter can’t tell if it’s because the Spider Queen wants to stay clear of Summer or doesn’t want to frighten her. Either way is fine with Winter- she’s not sure if she’d like being too close to this strange old friend now, however friendly they used to be.

“I really just want you to take care of this girl for me, if that’s not too much trouble,” Winter says firmly. “I have some unfinished business I need to take care of, and I’m not really that sleepy.”

“Oh,” Silk says, sounding more than a little disappointed. “I can do that for you. You’ve done much for us. Maybe when you remember it you’ll understand I mean you no harm.”

Winter is about to say something, but stops herself, and just watches. Ever-Widowed gives her another smile, but it’s fleeting.

Something is weighing heavily on her, Winter thinks. I really will have to come back, and not just to make sure she hasn’t done anything nasty to my sleeping friend.

“Well, Seven-Spinner can show you the way out. Just leave your new friend here, I suppose. Do come back when you’ve finished with your “business”. I enjoy your company.” The Spider Queen half-turns away, arms folded.

Summer, for her part, finds herself going over spell formula in case Silk decides to turn nasty unexpectedly. Still, it’s nice to know she won’t be obvious about trying to keep Winter here forever. That sort of silly villainy always did make Summer a little sick.

Winter, on the other hand, waves to Ever-Widowed and moves to join a waiting Seven-Spinner. “Let’s go then,” she says. “Just put me back where you found me.”

[This I do,] Is the spider-creature’s reply.

The world spins again as the servant of the spider queen picks her up and whisks her away.

After a torturous descent, she is deposited on the snow once more, and after a short, clipped farewell, she is alone with Summer again.

Demimind: Chapter 3

(3)Banished

The ground here is freezing cold, but Winter can’t even feel it. Summer can, trapped in Winter’s head as she is. C-couldn’t have picked a better spot, She grumbles. What is it with you and cold?

“I don’t know,” Winter says quietly. “I… I must not have had a memory of somewhere warm. I still don’t know how I remembered this place.”

Did you mean to bring the Illmetal with you?

Winter shakes her head. “No. I didn’t know it would come along.”

She clutches the tiny bead in her fingers. She could put it in the pocket of her jeans, but she worries if she drops it it might disappear. The metal-stone had lost its luster shortly after arriving.

It’s useless without the column though.

“Yeah.”

The air is frigid. Trees stand here, covered in frost and ice, buried under ages and ages of white. Even the snow is frozen solid, so that she leaves no tracks.  For as far as the eye can see there are more trees, an infinite forest. The eye can’t see too far, of course.

She had hoped that the binding spell would leave Summer when she left the column and He-Whose-Name-Shakes-Mountains behind. It hadn’t. Winter hasn’t the faintest where she should go, and Summer is too cold to be much help.

She looks all around, trying to find a path through the trees. She has as much time as she needs, really. Summer had told her, sleepily, the last time she’d woken up, that Winter needs only the occasional bite of life energy to survive.

Summer, on the other hand, needs to be surrounded by it in order to thrive.

It seems fairly inhospitable here, but if she concentrates, Winter can feel the presence- like tingling pinpricks on her thumbs- of life, far off to the east.

She decides that will have to do. She gives up her aimless wandering and sets herself off to the east.

Her clothes are stiff. Summer had guided her through the long, laborious process of conjuring them. Of course, Summer had also been half asleep. It figured there were some flaws in their creation- namely two long blank strips made of conjured material, but not dyed, and one long slash down the right leg where Summer had nodded off mid-teaching.

After a while of walking, she feels very exposed. A strong oppressive presence lurks nearby- she can feel it.

She can feel the sting, the dangerous hum of the scar on her thigh suddenly. And Summer is awake in her head.

Uh oh. Magehunting squad by the feel of it.

“You don’t sound too concerned,” She mutters.

Comes with being a demigoddess. We could probably take them under any other circumstances. I dunno that they’ll even know we’re magic users. Our type of magic is usually undetectable. We can get by without hurting anyone.

“I seem to recall you being much more-“

And suddenly, she remembers. And the memory hits her like a hammer.

“Come on!” Summer growls gleefully, lifting an arm and sending out a stream of power towards the nearest man. It vaporizes the poor soldier in his armor, leaving hissing plate in its wake. It withers some of Summer’s power, but she really doesn’t care. What does it matter? She’s never felt so alive. The sheer life around her is granting her power beyond any mortal dream.

“Are all of you cowards?” Summer’s eyes glint. Her body is the same as Winter’s, but bigger- taller, a little plumper and with golden bronze skin. The switch between hers and Winter’s is usually seamless. Only their hair remains the same- a short pixie-cut, naturally white-blonde. Summer’s eyes are green.

The men circle her. Their lead mage sets her arms, perhaps a little uncertainly. “I didn’t even feel it!” She shouts. “What type of magic is that?”

“Thomas is down,” One of them grumbles. “We should call for backup.”

“His fault, he wasn’t wearing antimagic plate.”

“How do you know it’s magi-” says a clever third, but he’s interrupted as his skin flash-fries. The sickly sweet scent of charred flesh and the hiss of his steaming blood as it escapes from his armor fills the air.

Summer’s finger smokes. “I told you,” She hisses. “I’m a demigoddess. You can’t fight me. You can’t lay a blade on me!”

Heat rises around her in waves. It’s enough to make the strongest of men uncomfortable. The sorceress backs away, lips pressed into a tight line.

The rest of the soldiers flee. And Summer stands there, laughing.

“-vindictive,” Winter finishes weakly. The memory had been quite strong. And very, very vivid. The smell of burning skin still lingers in her nostrils, no matter how much she wishes it wouldn’t. Summer feels a bit uncomfortable.

Different days. I’m a bit different than before-

Whatever else Summer was going to say is lost.  There’s a series of fantastic ‘pops’, and three figures appear out of thin air.

One is dressed in crimson robes. Another, obviously and emphatically female from the shape of her clothing and body, wears nothing but two strips of cloth and is being carried in chains. The third, holding the chains and looking particularly morose in a wide, black-rimmed hat, is wearing sensible working pants and a thoroughly sensible vest with leather armor under it and a metal circle  on the front. In one hand he holds the chains, in the other he bares a long metal blade. From the chill it radiates- somehow much more piercing than that of the cold around her- and the warping sense it gives off, the chain and the blade are both made of earthmetals, though what type Summer has no idea. The stuff would drain her magic if she were to try to enchant it, but fortunately Winter seems nonaggressive and probably wouldn’t try it.

“See here now, Argus! You’ve gone and given me the wrong coordinates again!” It’s a man’s voice, and it comes from the crimson robes. “It’s freezing cold! We’re probably in some godforsaken tundra-“

“Forest, actually,” The man in leather and vest says mildly. He doesn’t seem perturbed by the chill.

“You’re always getting us lost and- what?”

“Tundra are bare of trees. This is a forest.”

The woman in chains shivers violently in the cold and mutters something that might be a curse. Then her eyes look up and find Winter standing there, not ten yards away, under the shade of a frozen pine.

She lets out a clipped cry, and muffles it quickly, biting her lip and trying not to draw attention to Winter at all, a moment later.

The look had been a pleading one. Winter stands there, rooted to the spot and staring. Is that one of my- your disciples? Summer asks.

“How should I know?” Winter hisses. “I’ve forgotten pretty much everything!”

And then the men see her, too. The one in crimson robes seems to spot her first.

“Hey- Argus. There’s a woman there in the shade of that pine. Do you see?”

The man in leather is only a little slower. “Yes. I see her.”

“She’s standing there- gracious Cycle, is she barefoot? She should be frozen to the core.”

“Seems in fine enough health to me.”

“A bit rigid, perhaps.”

“It’s not exactly pleasant weather, my magical friend.”

They talk as they move toward her, carefully as though she might startle. It’s a hunter’s walk, a predator’s walk, though neither is likely to be aware of it. Summer notices, though.

Winter, these men are dangerous. That woman is a magic user, likely they’re transporting her to a prison for not having a signed doc for its use.

Winter backs away slowly, unfreezing.

“A slip of a thing, but clearly a Frostwitch. Natural, by the look,” the red-robed one says.

“You give her too much credit- she can’t be more than ten years, the idea of her using more than a cantrip to keep warm is ridiculous.” The other is still skeptical. Their respective life-forces feel exceptionally strong, this close. It’s making her strangely hungry.

They stop, some ten feet distant, still eyeing her, talking and shaking their heads. The woman doesn’t look at her.

Winter wants to keep backing away. You’ll have to fight them, Summer says grimly. The woman clutches the Illmetal bead tightly. I’ll help. Look, you can’t run- you might lose them, sure, but they can track you. I know how it works around here.

Winter clenches her fingers into fists. She raises one hand uncertainly. But she hasn’t the faintest how to fight, and she feels very silly.

Her stomach growls at her, throwing her off a bit. She’s quite hungry. She’s not sure why, but being near these three is making her very, very hungry. She tries anyway, bringing up the will, or trying to, feeling her scars begin to glow.

No, don’t use your magic. Just drain them. You need the energy anyway.

“Sort of a crooked nose, don’t you think?” says the one in his crimson robes. “A little on the ugly side.”

“She’ll sell,” Argus shrugs. “That’s all we need. Hey, kid!”

No, no. Not like that! Here, watch, Summer says.

There’s a moment where time seems to hiss and bend, where the world is distorted and everything is scrunched up tight. Summer makes Winter spread her fingers. There’s a sensation of tugging, of pulling in such a fashion that seems to make her legs wobble. The hunger inside, the gnawing emptiness reaches a glorious peak, settles in her hand, in her arm. There’s a wet sucking, popping sort of sound, like tugging a slick rubber dart off of a window.

Then there’s a brilliant flash of light. Two red streamers of twisting something leap from each of the men and writhe, twisting into her outstretched hand. The connection snaps just as the last of it is siphoned off. The last streaming tendril of energy whips out and then in, funneled to fill the emptiness in her arm warmly, snugly.

Winter just stands there, stunned.

The woman doesn’t appear to notice until the two men stop dead in their tracks and both topple, strings cut. The girl starts, at that- she can’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. Her eyes snap from the men, who lie prone, to the slip of a child who seems to have been responsible. She looks at Winter, at her outstretched hand, a mixture of pure terror and awe on her face. She shrinks away as Winter first moves.

But it’s only to stare at her hand. Her scars- visible all over her body in weird shapes and lines- are glowing brightly. She feels full again, the hunger is gone.

“What did you do?” She whispers, her gaze traveling all over her body. A feeling of horror comes over her.

Fed you, Summer says blankly. There isn’t even the slightest hint of unease.

And that seems to be that.

Or would be, except for the feeling of outraged violation Winter nurses. It contrasts sharply with the pleased, full contentedness of a good meal. It also cements something in her mind. She is extremely dangerous. And so is Summer.

The shaking in her legs she can tell herself is relief. The men were going to take her somewhere and sell her? Or take her to prison. That’s what Summer said.

Their deaths are on Summer’s conscience. Right?

Are they dead? Yes. Their lifeforce is gone.

Oh come on now. They just return to the Cycle. It’s not like you’re stealing their souls or anything. Toughen up, wuss.

“Shut up,” She hisses. “Don’t preach ethics at me, murderer.”

Hey, I’m just using what’s there to save our hides. If you can’t wise up and protect yourself, we both’ll die. If I have even the slightest bit of control, I’ll take it, Summer snaps. I’m in here too.

“It’s your own damn fault you got bound!” Winter shouts. “Don’t try and pin this on me! I never wanted you in my head!”

Winter, sweetie, I’ve been in your head from the fucking start. We just usually take turns.

“Liar.”

Think what you want, fine. Your memory’ll come back eventually, I’ll find a way to free myself.

“You’re just like you were,” Winter snaps bitterly.

Summer is silent for a moment.

“Did that hurt?” Winter asks. Summer’s silence is all she needs. “Good.”

Finally she takes a deep breath and turns to the woman. She’s since crumpled, breathing shallowly, on the snow. Her skin is blue and her eyes are shut.

Fiery anger is banked. Summer is still quiet, so Winter acts, rushing over to the woman’s side. She strips the first man of his crimson robes awkwardly, wraps the young girl up in it. The robes are probably cold, but much better than nothing. The woman’s skin feels warm to her, but she can’t trust her own sense of touch, and Summer won’t tell her what the girl’s real temperature is.

Winter eyes the chains. They’ll prove a bit awkward. She can’t afford to drag two corpses around. Searching the one named Argus reveals a set of strange metal things-

Keys. Summer grumbles. They go in the locks.

– which, with Summer’s reluctant guidance, Winter puts in the locks of the woman’s manacles and turns. Undone, she finishes wrapping the woman up, staggers under her weight, and sighs.

Here’s the formula for the spell you want. Summer offers, showing Winter the way. Borrow some of my power, it’s what it’s there for. This woman is giving me some, only fair I return the favor.

Unsure if she should trust her mindguest’s words but with little other choice, Winter recites the incantation. Her scars flare and magic floods her for a moment. It weakens her- tires her- but she finds the woman in her grip light as a feather now.

She turns. The woman’s lifeforce is strong- blurring her grip on where the faint forces were before- but she remembers the direction she was moving. The sun is hidden by treecover and clouds, but she knows it’s going to set. She needs to find shelter. With that in mind, Winter strides off through frost and snow, a new burden in arms.

The corpses of the two men lie silent in the snow, and eventually the thick forest surrounds and swallows them.

Posting Schedule & Chapter 2

Okay! Chapter 2 is up, first of all. Check out the links page if you just need to read that, otherwise I’m sure it’s somewhere in the slog of blog posts. Can’t do much about spoilers! Sorry! Just be careful when I post something new. I’ll update the links page every time I do, so no worries there.

Here’s the deal with when I’ll be posting. I know you’d love to all read the story RIGHT AWAY, but the point of the serial novel is that the author remains sane AND manages to have a regular schedule.

Since I’m neither sane nor schedule prone, you guys and gals can expect the occasional hiccup.

So here’s the schedule (subject to change, but I’ll tell you.)

I’m aiming for posting two chapters a week. That means monday and friday. If it seems like I’m not busy enough, I may just go for something like Monday Wednesday and Friday. We’ll see. Days I’m unlikely to post a chapter: Holidays. Birthdays- if I’m attending a party I’ll post ahead of time about it. When I’m so sick I can’t move. When I’ve fallen so far behind on writing it’s no longer possible to keep up. (Hah! Unlikely. I’ve got a nice buffer of chapters ready, so no worries!)

So again schedule:

Mondays and Fridays until further postage declares otherwise. When exactly is variable, but expect it before 11:00 PM, my time on update day. So go with east coast. Thanks for reading everybody! Hope you enjoy chapter two!

-Eris