#jamethiel priest’s-bane

[tanoraqui]

Sentences Saturday

@thelordofgifs tagged me to share "some sentences" from a WIP (side note: I love how far this has devolved from neat tag memes like "Five-Sentence Friday" or even "WIP Wednesday). As it so happens, I spent yesterday and today writing a short little thing for the Chronicles of the Kencyrath, so here it is in full! Tagging @finxwrites, @smallblueandloud and @words-writ-in-starlight to go next if you want :)

---

Smothering, twisting darkness swirled around them in a dancing duel with silver-pale weirding mist, and the mist was winning. Where it cleared away the taint and then itself, it revealed a silent battlefield—exhausted, watching the center where the Tyr-Ridan stood, the living all still alive for now and the dead all staying dead at last. Rathilien was saved. Perimal Darkling was destroyed.

Yet darkness still loomed in front of them, utter, absolute Darkness. Ahead and behind. The ground had stopped shaking—Mother Ragga stood watching with the rest, not far away. But something still shifted unsteadily beneath Jame’s feet. Some loose thread—loose steering rope, loose fate whipping in the winds of history—was left untied.

"We have to go back." Her lips were numb with the realization. "We have to go back and start it all."

Kindrie shouted, a wordless rathorn cry of grief beyond endurance. He turned away and strode to where Kirien stood, not far behind them (or maybe distance hadn't mattered in…about as long as time hadn’t mattered).

He took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, then pressed their foreheads gently together. The serpent cloak on his shoulders wrapped around them both.

Jame looked away to give them their privacy.

The final battlefield was full of friends and loved ones, kith and kin, more alive than she would have expected. Timmon and Gorbel were leaning heavily on one another, as were Trishien and Dianthe of Danior, all surrounded by Kendar of a melange of houses. Randiroc’s jewel-jaws were feasting on his corpse, which was fair. A few steps away, Death’s-head had started eating the Dark Judge’s corpse, which would probably give him indigestion. Before Ashe had finally gone still with the rest of the haunts, she’d sat back to back with Harn, who was gritting his teeth over a mangled forearm while Sheth, kneeling beside them, tore and tied his black coat into a hasty tourniquet.

The Kencyr had gathered closest to their lords and lady, but they were far from alone on the field. Gran Cyd bent a bloody-speared Chingetai into a passionate kiss and showed no sign of stopping. Wolvers began to howl, a rippling harmony of triumph tinged with mourning. An assortment of Tai-tastigonian gods, Bashti ancestors and other deities still ran amok, mopping up shadows with spears, fire, frying pans and odder weapons, egged on by Old Man Tishoo soaring above. Through the howling chorus, Jame heard a distinct quonk! Further yet, Arribek sen Tenzi was already stalking around, rallying his hillmen for whatever came next.

He wasn’t the only one. Countless people looked back at Jame and in their eyes she could see that one word from her, the slightest nod, and despite their wounds, exhaustion, and dawning sense of relief, they would stand and follow unflinchingly into the darkness. Brier was already getting to her feet, with blood coating her side and a mulish set to her chin. Yce was glaring past Jame, past Tori, straight into the heart of Perimal Darkling, teeth bared and legs coiled to pounce on the enemy that still hadn’t fully vacated her territory.

Kindrie let go of Kirien at last, and she of him. As he walked back to his cousins, the serpentine Cloak pressed closer and closer to his skin until it sank in completely, leaving only a ghost of snakes’ heads at his shoulders. As it faded, Kindrie shone brighter and brighter, with a white light so pure that it burned Jame’s eyes.

She turned away, and dropped the ivory Knife from her right hand. It disappeared into the shadows curling around her feet and never landed; in its place her claws slid out, longer and sharper and more natural-feeling than ever before. Each would be deadly with only a scratch. 

As usual, Torisen was the last to join them. He hasn’t reacted at all to Jame’s words; his head was bowed over the Book still open in his hands, his shoulders hunched.

With a deep breath, he straightened. The Book flared and fell into ashes in his hands. The fire licked down the bonds that tied the Knorth to their lord, and the Kencyrath to their Highlord, and set them all loose before any could be drawn into the Darkness before the three of them. Pure Creation remained, unbound, and the Kenthiar on his neck blazed as brightly silver as his open eyes.

Jame snapped her few bonds with a flick of her wrist, as easy as breathing for Destruction incarnate. With her other hand, she turned her claws carefully away one last time as she took her brother’s scarred hand, and leaned her shoulder against his. Her odd, black-purple glow was dark against his silver, though still bright against the Darkness.

On her other side, Preservation gripped the loose sleeve of her d’hen, just in case the road was rough.

And so the three faces of the Kencyr god, Torrigien, Regonereth and Argentiel, walked out of Rathilien and into the Darkness beyond worlds, beyond time.

A little while later and thirty thousand years earlier, the Three-Faced god bound together the Kendar, the Arrin-ken, the in-between race that would be known as Highborn, and the short gray folk who had always called themselves Builders, and charged them to fight the purest malevolence of entropy until it was defeated—and then upon its defeat, to the stupefaction of many on a small, divinity-packed world far down the Chain of Creation, released them all at last.

[ayasuzuhiro]

“Never mind him. He thinks he’s awake. It’s a common delusion.”

-Jamethiel Priest’s-Bane as she lovingly punches Marc in the ribs

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Prompt: Jame/Tori, someone in the scene is tied to a chair

send in a character/pairing and a prompt, and I'll write a short fic!

"So," Torisen said quietly, crouched before his sister. Jame was unconscious, blood running down her face and matting the unbound curls of her hair as it dried, making her sharp features and stark pallor ghoulish. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths beneath her shirt, but her jacket had been taken, her belt, every pocket emptied, even her hair taken down and picked through, and her hands and feet were bound to the heavy chair with wire.

Rawneth's people, sent to catch themselves a Nemesis, had done their work well.

Torisen had been sternly informed, in no uncertain terms, that looking at her was all he was permitted--if he touched her, even to check her pulse, he would die, and so would she. There was a sword at the back of his neck, the point resting on the skin above his collar and ready to be shoved through flesh and bone if he tried to disobey.

Tori took a breath, and felt a twin heartbeat in his own chest. It was like Jame's hands were curled around his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his, and her voice whispering in his ear.

"Brother," she said, not gently. "Get up and walk."

Then he rose, slowly, smoothly, hands up to show that he meant no harm, to his feet, and turned to the Randir Matriarch.

"So," he repeated, the world around him retreating slowly to the calm beat of his blood in his veins, and the taste of Jame's blood in the air. Underfoot, far below, he could feel the Priest's College, that whirlpool being drawn in, and in, and in.

And all around him, as far as he could feel, was life.

"My lady Rawneth," Torisen said, as the calm ebbed away and power began to rush into the void. "Do tell me how you hoped that this negotiation would go."

[incorrectkencyrath]

Jame: I could always rob a bank for you.

Tori: Rob a bank--why the hell would you want to do that?

Jame: I was just offering. Jeez.

[aeylis]

Starting work on a painting of Jame from the Kencyrath series :)

[thepodcastboundinpaleleather]

A Rage of Rathorns!

A new episode of the Podcast Bound in Pale Leather has just dropped! 

Kathrin and Gabe get very excited as Jame, Jorin, and Marc explore more of the Anarchies than they bargained for, solve an old mystery, make an unusual friend, and get up-close & personal with MC Escher.

 And, good news! PBiPL has expanded to the following platforms:

Google Podcasts, iTunes , Podcast Republic, Spotify, Castbox, and Stitcher

We’re pretty excited to share all good things Kencyr, Rathillien, and Hodgell! 

[lyreofsheliak]

Kencyrath, paths not taken

Fandom: Chronicles of the Kencyrath

Characters: Jame of Knorth

Also on: Dreamwidth. 

Written for the prompt “making a different choice”. 

Gerridon is dead. Jame went to him, and as much as she wanted what he offered her, as weak as she had been, at the last moment she had defied him. A futile protest, he had thought. (She had almost agreed. But they had both been wrong.) She only scratched him (this time), but he is dead. The knife—the Ivory Knife—is cold in her hand, cold as ice, cold as death. She can hardly feel that hand; her knuckles are white around the hilt. Destruction. Regonereth. (Had she even meant—) When the apparition heals her, the blade clatters to the floor. Her mind is clear. She has been lucky; the shifters haven't found her. She wonders how many of them are even here. Keral is probably still lying with his golden-eyed shadows. Tirandys is— Tirandys has gone to kill Tori. Gerridon is dead, and either Tori will follow him or Tirandys will, unless she can find them first. Jame picks up her knife, clutches her cloak around her, and runs.

[morven]

"I've got to stop falling from great heights. It's unhealthy."

—Jame

[inexplicifics]

Favorite characters meme

I’ve been tagged by the marvelous @aceoftigers - thank you, dear!

Share ten different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, and feel free to pass it on!

1) Eskel (game/book/fandom) version, The Witcher

2) Finn, Star Wars: The Force Awakens

3) Maia Drazhar, The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

4) Cliopher “Kip” Mdang, The Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard

5) Hazel-rah, Watership Down by Richard Adams

6) Mariel, Mariel of Redwall by Brian Jacques

7) Digger-of-Unnecessarily-Complicated-Tunnels, Digger by Ursula Vernon

8) Jamethiel Priest’s-Bane, God Stalk by P.C. Hodgell

9) Lydias of Miletus, Stealing Fire by Jo Graham

10) Aerin-sol, The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

Tagging anyone who would like to play!

[aeondeug]

Aon’s List of Incredibly Perfect Women and Girls in Fiction:

Soifon

Baru Cormorant

Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Judith Deuteros

Edelgard von Hresvelg

Anthy Himemiya

Gyre

Em

Sona

Eris

Sachiko Ogasawara

Touko Nanami

India Morgan Phelps

Sarah Crowe (rip)

Avatar Kyoshi

Azula

Jamethiel Priest’s-bane

Brenwyr the Iron Matriarch

An Shouji

Lain Iwakura

Barhu Cormorant

[ao3feed-goodomens]

a devil set aside (for me)

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2ReAgQQ

by words-writ-in-starlight (Gunmetal_Crown)

The year is 6000 AC, give or take a few dozen months, when Jame is handed a baby.

Or, the start of the Apocalypse, featuring an angel, a demon, and a misplaced Antichrist.

Words: 1461, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of passive aggressive kencyrath AU collection

Fandoms: Chronicles of the Kencyrath - P. C. Hodgell, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Jamethiel "Jame" Priest's-bane, Torisen Black Lord, Keral (Chronicles of the Kencyrath), Bane (Chronicles of the Kencyrath)

Additional Tags: Good Omens AU, I WILL Self-Generate All The Content I Wish To See In The World, Good Lord I Should Be Asleep Right Now

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2ReAgQQ

[tanoraqui]

so, I’ve been mainlining reading the Kencyrath Chronicles...

+ more callout posts for the twins (mostly Tori) below the cut

[ayasuzuhiro]

“Where there is a window, there is a way.”

-Jamethiel Priest’s-Bane, contemplating how to escape a room

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Prompt: Jame&Marc huddling for warmth

send me a character/pairing and a prompt, and I'll write you a three-ish sentence fic!

Marc flatters himself that he's been through a lot of strange events in his life, especially in the past handful of years, but this--this is different.

"Hello, lass," Marc says softly, holding a hand out, crouching down and making himself as small as possible--not very small, especially compared to the skinny-limbed thing hiding under the bone-bare twigs of the dead hedge, her hair like a wild shadow around her and her silver eyes shining like mad stars. "It's mighty cold out here, so I thought you might like to come out and warm up while we figure out what's going on."

The girl, wearing a too-big shirt barely held up over her point-boned shoulders, eyed him suspiciously for another long moment before she reached out, clawed fingers blanched blue and trembling with cold, and let him draw her out of her hiding place.

Marc figures her for about five or six--maybe a little older, if his lady's always been as fragile-looking and big-eyed as she is now--and her weight is nothing at all as he picks her up, carefully, and tucks her into his jacket.

"That's it, lass," Marc hums as she breaks into full-body shudders at the first hint of warmth. "Easy, there. Easy. We'll fix it."

[incorrectkencyrath]

if someone asked me to dance out the souls of the kencyrath, i would simply refuse. rip to the dreamweaver but i'm different.

Jame Priest’s-Bane

[anheliaaescar]

Kencyrath first lines

God Stalk: THE HILLS ROLLED up to the moon on slopes of wind-bent grass, crested, swept down into tangled brier shadows.

Dark of the Moon: TAI-TASTIGON BURNED.

Seeker’s Mask:  "The first duty of a Highborn lady is obedience."

To Ride a Rathorn: The sun's descending rim touched the white peaks of the Snowthorns, kindling veins of fire down their shadowy slopes where traces of weirding lingered.

Bound in Blood: Three days out from Tentir, the randon college, they found the first body.

Honor’s Paradox: “Gerridon Highlord, Master of Knorth, a proud man was he. The Three People held he in his hand—Arrin-ken, Highborn, and Kendar—by right of birth and might.”

The Sea of Time: “JAMETHIEL PRIEST’S-BANE.”

The Gates of Tagmeth:  JAME PAUSED IN THE DOORWAY of her brother’s tower study, blinking into the gloom.