"A Fit of Rage"

Writers: AL, Heather
Date Posted: 15th July 2014

Characters: Barenziah, Zathris
Description: Barenziah comes upon Zathris in a fit of rage.
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 8, day 1 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned; Benani, Karhal, Crolarin

Barenziah

Zathris

The flicker of rage scorched his eyes as Zathris stormed through the
hallway. Where was he? What were the guards doing? Sitting on their
butts, playing cards while Crolarin skalked the land, perhaps plotting
his next move on the Lady Benani?

As soon as the thought came to him, Zathris shook it off. He was
angry, but that didn't mean he should take it out on Karhal and his
guards. He knew that the Captain was every bit as angry for the part
Crolarin had to play in his own torturous events. Still, impatience
mingled with the enmity that roiled inside. He could barely be in the
bed wiht his wife. After last night, Zathris wasn't even sure he'd be
able to be that close to her. The way she gazed at him, the fear
reflected in those formally brilliant blue eyes. Once they had gazed
upon him with love and desire. Now there was only terror and
revulsion.

Teeth clamped down on one another as his chest contracted. Hands
clenched into fists and suddenly the wall bore the brunt of his rage
as his fist slammed against it. Then again. And again. The third
time the pain flared through the cloud of his burning angery, and he
stopped, knuckles pressed against stone, then leaned his forehead
against it. The skittering of footsteps gave evidence to drudges,
awake early to tend to duties that required them to rise early, only
to bear witness to Zathris' ire. Another pair of footsteps echoed a
moment later, but rather than rush off in fear, they slowly, steadily
drew closer.

"What do you want?" The jagged teeth of the words snapped at the one
who approached, but Zathris didn't even bother to tear his gaze away
from the dark stone.

"To preserve this poor wall, and possibly your hand and knuckles."
Barenziah replied calmly, not the least bit scared by the man's
venomous tone or the obvious rage that he was in. She didn't know what
had caused such a reaction from The Lord Holder, she had never seen
him that way before.

The brave and calm response forced the Lord to lift his hand and glare
down at the woman that dare stand up to him. Yet, at the same moment,
he deflated like a ball, then turned to stare once more at the stone,
that time to avoid letting her see the defeated expression in his
eyes. "I think the wall can take it."

"Aye," she grinned a little and held out her hand, "but I doubt your
hand fares as well. Mind if I look to make sure?"

That hand had remained pressed against the wall during the entire
conversation. At her request, Zathris slowly pulled it away to reveal
torn and bleeding skin. The sharp and throbbing pain gave evidence to
further damage that went unseen, but it was nothing compared to the
pain he endured when he thought about what had happened to his wife.

Barenziah winced as she carefully took the man's hand in her own and
surveyed the damage, "This is going to swell and look horrible by
morning." She was sure he knew that, "How does some numbweed and ice
sound?"

"Not sure the numbweed will do much for the pain." At least, not the
pain that really mattered. Zathris side and shook his head. "I
suppose it will have to do for now, though."

"While we do that do you care to talk about what the poor wall did to
offend you?" Barenziah teased lightly, hoping to spark a more
lighthearted atmosphere.

"It's not what the wall did." Zathris' answer came before he realised
what Barenziah was trying to do and that time, the smile he offered
was a little gentler. "You shouldn't have to deal with me. I can
walk to the healers."

Barenziah flashed her eyes up at him, "Of course you could, but then
you would have to retell this entire story, and old healer Bartell is
not nearly as pretty as me or half as nice."

"I was actually thinking I'd go see Chupsin." The smile turned into a
smirk. Zathris wondered if Barenziah's pretty face would hold any
sway over that particular healer. Chupsin was good, but the Lord
Holder honestly had a hard time pegging the man down in some ways.
His gaze shifted from the woman to his hand. "You know the story
anyway."

"Chupsin," Barenziah snorted. She had no use for that arrogant, rude,
manner less healer, but she didn't want to get in to all of that with
Zathris. "Well, I know part of the story. You haven't said why." She
pointed out as she opened the door to her quarters, which were close
by Benani's for convenience.

"Why I decided to take it out on a poor defenseless wall you mean?"
Zathris turned to draw a little closer, but stopped before the open
door.

Barenziah crossed over the threshold and then stopped short when she
realized he had not followed. Rolling her eyes, Barenziah stepped back
into the hallway, flagged down a drudge and ordered for some ice, and
then turned back to Zathris, "It's okay, you know. I think tongues
around the Hold have a lot more to wag about than you walking through
this doorway."

"All and all, I think it's best if I remain out here." Zathris
executed a half back. "Tongues wag about me all the time. However,
words can't touch me the way they can someone like you."

She laughed mirthlessly, "Twenty-eight and a spinster, plus people
think I must be gay." Barenziah raised her eyebrows at that, "So I
doubt tongues could wag more, but if you insist I will just bring the
numbweed out here."

"Twenty eight?" Zathris' eyebrows shot upward. "No? I would have
pegged you for a decade younger. Spinster, however, is not a term I
would use. I don't particularly like it, at least for someone as young
as you."

"I've aged well." Barenziah patted her cheek before disappearing into
her room and reappearing with bandages and bandages.

"Elisse, thank you dear." She said to the drudge who reappeared with a
bag of ice.

"Hand please." Barenziah wiggled her fingers.

"I suppose so." Zathris leaned against the wall outside of
Barenziah's door and nodded his thanks to Elisse before she trotted
off. No doubt word about Zathris would spread rapidly. At least he
hadn't accepted her invitation into her quarters. At her request,
Zathris offered his hand, then attempted to open it. That didn't go
so well and he immediately stopped flexing the muscles. Yes, a visit
to the healers would be in order.

As she carefully spread numbweed over the man's knuckles she asked,
"Now, why were you punching a defenseless wall?"

"Do you really need to ask that?" Zathris' voice lowered to a whisper
as the woman worked on his hand. "I think you are smart and can
figure out why."

"I know," she murmured, her tone reflecting his, "but sometimes it
helps to talk and commiserate." She laid the bag of ice on his
knuckles and then wrapped bandages around it to hold it in place. It
would at least help the swelling and numb the pain.

The ice stung, but still the pain was nothing in comparison. Zathris
watched her attend to his wound, the blood spread over the bag in dark
streaks. "She won't even let me touch her."

Barenziah digested that while she tied off the bandage. Turning loose
of his hand she looked back up at him, "Zathris," she uncommonly left
off Lord or sir, "have you ever worked with a spooked runner? My
father had one when I was younger who went haywire whenever someone
came near or tried to touch her. My father is a patient man though,
and stubborn too," she quirked her lips into a little smile, "so every
day he would just go and sit on the coral fence while she grazed. He
didn't speak to her, he didn't touch her, he just sat there. He did
that for days... Days! Then he started bringing a stool and sitting
inside the fence. Each time, no matter how long it took, after she
grew comfortable with where he was, he would move his stool closer.
After a couple of months he was practically sitting beside her."

She waved her hand, "Fast forward that and he began leaving treats
around the corral until she would come and eat beside him and then
eventually from his hand. It was a slow painstaking process, earning
her trust, but she turned how to be the best runner he had ever owned.
He still has her, in fact."

"I hope my rambling story makes sense," she smiled.

"It does. But it's not the same. Benani wasn't just spooked. She
was..." Zathris trailed off, his jaw clamped and hardened the lines
of his face. "I'm not blaming her. It's not her fault, I know that.
It just...hurts." And why he was being so forthright with her, Zathris
had no idea, but he had to admit it was nice to talk to someone about
it.

"You don't think someone abused the runner to make her be so spooked
of everyone? Memories and fear are very powerful, but even they can
fade... Over time. I am sorry, there is no quick fix. I wish I could
help."

"I know. It's just frustrating. And painful. And I can't wait to
get my hands around the neck of that..." Zathris swore, the words
spat from his mouth as his lips curled in a sneer. "No woman should
ever be subject to such torture."

Barenziah agreed, and probably would have used the same crude words to
describe the mongrel herself, "You will find him," she soothed, "just
having Benani back shows that he is capable of making mistakes."

Zathris' smile was devoid of humour, cold - frozen. "Yes. Yes he
is." He sighed and shook his head, the darkness in his features
dissipating for the moment. "Thank you Barenziah. I should have
Chupsin look at this. Make sure I didn't break anything."

"That would be a good idea. And no more walls," she added, waggling
her finger, "the guards training quarters have punching bags you
know." Barenziah smiled.

"Not nearly as satisfying, but maybe it will have to do." Barenziah's
teasing elicited a small smile. "I'll let you attend to your duties.
I'm sure Benani's going to start wondering where you are soon." He
inclined his head to her, then turned to leave her at her doorway,
hopefully unscathed by rumours.

Last updated on the July 17th 2014

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

"A Fit of Rage"