The half-breed rolled across the grass but recovered fast, stopping herself with a foot stomped down hard, whirling to face her opponent... and spitting a scarlet-flecked gob of saliva to her side.
Razkar stood across from her, rubbing his jaw where her sweet little cross had certainly rattled his molars around. A handful of sellswords were standing in a rough circle around them, eager to absorb if only by observation some skills from the dauntless warrior leading them.
Moretta, however...
"Not bad," she said straightening up and circling him, Myrian mirroring her movements, circles tightening until they got closer, "But I think you-"
Her hand struck in mid-sentence, and Razkar nearly smiled. Ah, an old and favored trick of brawlers and filthy fighters the world over. Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what he was-
-and he slid his left leg to his left, twisting his body around from facing her to sideways, his own left snapping out horizontally to knock her vicious right straight away-
-his own right snapping forward to her solar plexus, hand twisting as he did to lend it extra power, as he'd seen Ximal do during their two immortal brawls.
Ah, the Fists of Nykas, he wondered for a fractured tick, watching the female gasp out her pain and shock, staggering back, were you only here today, to give me a real challenge.
Which was not to say Moretta was an easy victory; she was hardened by years as a sellsword, years before that as a scout and trapper and hunter, living in the Wilds with all their savagery as another would live in Riverfall. She staggered back but Razkar's kick to her stomach was blocked by her elbow, a spasm of pain shooting through him-
-as she spun, elbow out, aiming for his head-
-and his right flashed across his chest diagonally, palm of his hand angled but intercepting it, knocking it away-
-right foot hammering into the back of her kneecap, knocking her down to her knees-
-left hand grabbing a handful of her hair, jerking it to the side-
"Never turn your back on your enemy."
-before his right elbow hammered down vertically onto her collarbone, ungodly mix of numbness and agony ripping through her upper body and a cry was ripped from her lips as she toppled forward... but not on her belly. Numb and tingling was they were, she forced her shaking arms to stop her fall... hearing the slow, patient steps of the Myrian around her, crunching grass and stone with his sandled feet...
"Enough?"
She held up hr head (barely) and spoke her words (barely), but there was nothing mean nor weak about the intent behind them.
"... for now..."
"Right answer."
The Myrian helped her back up and the sellswords began to break apart, feet meandering, gold changing hands, until-
"And where are you all going?"
They paused. Men who rarely if ever stalled for any man's voice stopped like naughty schoolboys and shuffled in their boots, waiting for someone braver than them to-
"Well... we're not leaving today, are we?" Manny said, stepping forward, face still a bruised mess from his brawl yesterday with the Earth Demons, half of it swathed in dirty bandages. "So, we can take it easy, right?"
"Not even close. We are sellswords, we are paid to guard, so we guard." Razkar looked the youth up and down briefly. "Except you. Get bandage changed and then get to bed."
"Sir, I can walk just-"
The Myrian rolled his eyes then unsheathed his kukri and tossed it at the boy in one easy movement. Slowly, carefully, handle first as if he was aiming for the boy to catch it, an easy enough feet for one Manny's age-
-but the boy botched and bungled and missed the catch by a good foot.
"But you cannot use your eyes. Change and bed. Rest of you? Guard duty, like yesterday." They began to disperse and Razkar swung his gaze back to the female massaging her her shoulder. Her upper arm and forearms were pure white... or at least, they had been, with bandages, but now they were smeared with mud. He looked it up and down. "That make firing a bow harder for you?"
"Pah. Don't flatter yourself, Myrian."
"You were badly hurt last day. Could barely use your arm."
"I've put arrows into apples at twenty yards with a bloody arm, Razkar. Remember that."
"As you wish..."
It was curious how his private, silent fear at that chime was having to face Edreina with Moretta following him. Razkar was no idiot, and while he didn't understand it, he knew there was some nameless, crackling aggression between the two females that he had no desire to stoke or kindle... but the scout was good at her job and his apprentice needed to learn to follow orders.
Even if it's from people you don't petching like.
His mind was already running through ways to break it to her... when he realized there was no "her" to convince. He frowned as he approached their tent, seeing that Jorven was gone, Mrrko looking distinctly uncomfortable all alone once again, tossing his black mane back and forth as if trying to get his attention.
"Apprentice?" The Myrian barked, peering into the tent. "Where is-"
Nothing. No red mane to catch his eyes, no blue stare to entrap them, no subdued glare at the scowling Drykas over his shoulder. Nothing but two bedrolls and a coulple of rucksacks.
"Petching weird..."
The Myrian didn't panic; Moretta noticed that much. He didn't start flailing or screaming or snapping, like many males she knew would. Her commander took each hardship and problem as it came, and concerned himself only when there was need for concern. What did he know, as far as bone-hard fasts went? His apprentice was gone and so was her steed. Was that reason for concern.
Two days ago, no, it would not have been.
But two days ago, he had no idea there was a Dhani among them.
"The Viper, Karin," he said quickly, looking around the tent as if for some sign of hint as to where they'd gone, "The Dhani, have you seen here today?"
Moretta frowned and trawled her memory, sun beginning to peek over the hilltops behind her. The rest of the caravan was rising, more sluggish than usual, knowing they would make camp there for the day, but still the clamor of animals yearning to be fed was loud and insistent.
Razkar ignored them all, eyes focused on the scout.
"Erm... not... that I can recall. She vanished after last night, I haven't seen her. You don't think-"
"-I think I see Jorven's tracks."
The Drykas frowned and followed the Myrian's eyes, even as he crouched down, dark eyes crushed by his squinting brows... until she could see the same thing. The imprints of hooves, deep and fresh in the earth around their tent... leading away... to the woods. But the Drykas noticed something... odd, making a strange little sound as they both straightened back up.
"What?"
"Hmm?"
"That noise you made?"
"Well... it's probably nothing, but-"
"Nothing is nothing," Razkar growled out in a tone that set those words in stone forevermore, and nodded to her, "Not today. What do you see?"
"Well... I've seen the tracks from her horse. They're not usually that deep. Maybe... a little deeper than usual."
Razkar frowned, following her reasoning: Jorven was carrying extra weight. But considering none of their gear nor equipment was missing, that could only mean...
"... another person on its back."
"That could be it, yes, but-"
"Follow me."
Moretta stuttered and blustered but the Myrian was already walking swiftly away, head bent as his eyes jumped from hoofprint to hoofprint as they led their way steadily from the tent, away from the camp, towards the tangle of dark trees to the south. She almost had to run to keep up, words spilling out as she did.
"Wait, what are we doing?"
"Finding out where my apprentice went, and who went with her."
"She could just have gone for a ride, you know."
"I do not think so."
Moretta held her tongue and that alone was as good as a scream to the Myrian. He stopped and turned to see her conflicted face, looking her up and down...
"Speak your mind on this."
"I think you're hoping you'll find the Dhani with her. You want a reason to kill her."
"I am a Child of Myri. I do not need a reason."
"She is a passenger on the caravan-"
"She said herself she is stowaway."
"It will be... hard to explain."
"In Syliras? Yes." Razkar's eyes twinkled with some diabolical joy, at some loophole found and gleefully exploited. "But not here. Not in the Wildlands. Here, she is just one more feast for worms and jackals, lost in woods."
"If she is there."
"Yes. 'If'."
"And you want me to come with you?"
"Dhani is a master at making illusions, at controlling minds. She is dangerous. Need someone watching my back."
"And what makes you think I'll come along?"
"I can order you."
Moretta snorted, half-cocked smirk twisting her lips. "First rule of being a sellsword: never take a job you won't survive to spend the mizas it's paying you. A Myrian and a Drykas against a master of illusions... steep odds, Razkar."
He had to admit, she had a point. What stake did she have in this? The half-breed might fancy herself a replacement apprentice to Edreina, perhaps, but she was smart enough to know a difficult fight when she saw it. So he stood watching her... and then unburdened himself of his bow and quiver.
"Then you do not need to get in close." He extended his hands, loaded with re-curve bow and quiver loaded with arrows that could punch through armor and mangle flesh with equal ease. "You are archer. You are great archer, as I have seen. So, stay at distance. Watch my back..."
The words did not come slowly, as she was expecting them to. The Myrian had clearly been here before, and though she suspected he was always checking himself around the "barbarians", some line within him had been crossed by the Dhani.
That meant she was no longer a living, breathing being to him; she was a problem to be solved, and removed from his way.
"... and if I give the shout, kill her."
"Razkar, I-"
"One arrow." He pressed on, stepping closer, not a pleading but an insistence in his eyes that surprised her. "That is all I ask. If you do not kill in that arrow, run. You owe nothing else to me, do you?"
Moretta snorted softly. She didn't, after all. She was a sellsword, a mercenary, a blade for mizas and if she was like most of her peers she would already be striding away and ignoring this whole tawdry drama.
But she remembered Razkar's harsh words the day before, as rain thundered down and she was in his grip, expecting her commander to take her head for her reckless, stupid risks...
And he let her up. Wounded, diminished somewhat before her surviving horsemen... but alive.
You owe him an arrow. But nothing more.
"... one arrow, Myrian." He flexed her arm and winced at the pain in her shoulder, his own elbow only adding to the ache from those fucking Yukmen's teeth in her flesh. "I don't think I'll have more than that in me."
"Thought you could put arrows into apples from-"
"Yeah, well...!" The half-breed suddenly got loud and struggled for the words, the excuse, lips moving but not speaking, snatching the bow and quiver away. "We're sellswords. We bullshkye."
But when she pulled away, he kept his grip... and she saw deadly seriousness in his eyes.
"You are good for one arrow?"
"Yes."
"You are sure."
"Just the one."
Razkar stared and stared and she was sure it was her soul she was examining, turning it over in his mind like a curious man would an odd stone found in his path. Finally... his grip relented, and she threw the quiver over her shoulder, drawing a broad-headed arrow, perfect for ripping through flesh.
"Then we go."
They turned their eyes back to the tracks and plunged into the woods.
It did not take long for them to find what they wanted, but it was by sound, not the sight of hooves clomped into the dirt. After a few chimes the two crouching, near-silent trackers stalled as they heard a familiar whinny from maybe a hundred yards away.
Jorven. Not in pain, just... impatient, by the sound of it. Razkar peered that way, forcing as much of his heightened senses as he could into that small patch of vegetation... and see the flickering shadow of the meandering horse.
"Slow." He whispered. "We are close..."
Moretta had to agree. As they got closer, moving carefully from cover to cover, she could see the horse was freed from saddle and bridle, the rider(s) clearly having no need to the beast anymore. A clearing was before them, Jorven circling it without care or purpose, snuffling and picking at the odd flower with his flat, clacking teeth...
Then they were at the edge of it, and Moretta's jaw dropped.
Two figures, both female, one straddling the other. Both had their lips pressed together, though the smaller, scaly one was more... enthusiastic. That was the word that came to her mind. The stupid Svefra seemed almost dazed, frowning like she was in some strange dream... but that didn't stop her lips moving against the Dhani's-
-and a growl like a roused bear rolled from the crouching beast at her side like an oncoming storm.
"Well... you were right." No reaction. No response. "Razkar? Are you-"
Gladius and ax were unsheathed without a word, the Myrian not taking his eyes from the two traitorous figures. Murder, stark and bloody and without care nor control, were writ large on his face, pouring from his eyes like a tide of blood. Moretta knew better than to offer advice, she just notched an arrow and waited for-
"Keep your eyes on the Dhani." Razkar said tightly, words coming out with a choke each time, like he was forcing himself to act like something other than a base beast. "If I give the word or it looks like she is trying to force my mind, kill her."
The scout just nodded, pausing only to rub a little glob of mud over the gleaming arrow head. She'd spotted enough ambushes in her time from Syna's rays alerting all and sundry to metal among rock and trees; she had no desire to repeat the mistakes of her lessers.
Razkar got up and started to walk. The clearing was grass and dirt, moist and soft by the morning dew that still glittered like fallen stars spread over the ground. His footsteps were slow... measured... and he had to marshal every inch of himself to make them so.
Traitor.
Monster.
Enemy.
All the same.
Only a matter of time.
Never have trusted.
Never have tried.
Warned you.
Warned her.
No good.
The twig snapped and the hateful monologue stopped. Surprised faces whirled around to face him, guilt plastered over one... and something akin to amusement on the other that only raised his ire further.
Razkar took a steadying breath that only barely worked... and pointed his gladius at the Dhani from perhaps ten feet away.
"You. Do not move. Do not make images in my head. Do not look in my eyes. If you do, you will die."
His ax moved now, pointing at his apprentice, though Razkar... Goddess... he could not look at her. Feared what he would do if he did.
"Get up. Get Jorven. Go back to the camp. This... thing, is no longer welcome among us. If she returns, I will feed her heart to the camp fires."
No, his eyes were perhaps too weak to see the shame and guilt in Edreina's eyes... so they would gain strength from the sight of that fucking Dhani instead. The Myrian gazed at her with the light of Syna behind him, trickling through the canopy of trees, careful to keep a clear shot for the archer hidden behind him... and his face morphed into a grimace that would have made Yukmen seem amenable by comparison.
"Do not try, bitch. I warned you."
Razakr felt unease, even the embryo of fear, take root in his guts. He had seen Earth Demons, creatures with barely a concept of fear, shirk from this female like she was Dira herself. Goddess knew what illusions and fantasies she could conjor... but his own realization, his own growling, howling rage, the dead-but-not-gone anger vibrating in the neclace on his chest...
They anchored him. They cleared his vision even as they painted it red.
If she works her wyrd against your mind, remember: the Dhnai is alive, and she needs to die.
OOCPhew! Sorry that took a while, guys. If I went too far, lemme know. Hehe, looking forward to this!
Razkar stood across from her, rubbing his jaw where her sweet little cross had certainly rattled his molars around. A handful of sellswords were standing in a rough circle around them, eager to absorb if only by observation some skills from the dauntless warrior leading them.
Moretta, however...
"Not bad," she said straightening up and circling him, Myrian mirroring her movements, circles tightening until they got closer, "But I think you-"
Her hand struck in mid-sentence, and Razkar nearly smiled. Ah, an old and favored trick of brawlers and filthy fighters the world over. Unfortunately for her, that was exactly what he was-
-and he slid his left leg to his left, twisting his body around from facing her to sideways, his own left snapping out horizontally to knock her vicious right straight away-
-his own right snapping forward to her solar plexus, hand twisting as he did to lend it extra power, as he'd seen Ximal do during their two immortal brawls.
Ah, the Fists of Nykas, he wondered for a fractured tick, watching the female gasp out her pain and shock, staggering back, were you only here today, to give me a real challenge.
Which was not to say Moretta was an easy victory; she was hardened by years as a sellsword, years before that as a scout and trapper and hunter, living in the Wilds with all their savagery as another would live in Riverfall. She staggered back but Razkar's kick to her stomach was blocked by her elbow, a spasm of pain shooting through him-
-as she spun, elbow out, aiming for his head-
-and his right flashed across his chest diagonally, palm of his hand angled but intercepting it, knocking it away-
-right foot hammering into the back of her kneecap, knocking her down to her knees-
-left hand grabbing a handful of her hair, jerking it to the side-
"Never turn your back on your enemy."
-before his right elbow hammered down vertically onto her collarbone, ungodly mix of numbness and agony ripping through her upper body and a cry was ripped from her lips as she toppled forward... but not on her belly. Numb and tingling was they were, she forced her shaking arms to stop her fall... hearing the slow, patient steps of the Myrian around her, crunching grass and stone with his sandled feet...
"Enough?"
She held up hr head (barely) and spoke her words (barely), but there was nothing mean nor weak about the intent behind them.
"... for now..."
"Right answer."
The Myrian helped her back up and the sellswords began to break apart, feet meandering, gold changing hands, until-
"And where are you all going?"
They paused. Men who rarely if ever stalled for any man's voice stopped like naughty schoolboys and shuffled in their boots, waiting for someone braver than them to-
"Well... we're not leaving today, are we?" Manny said, stepping forward, face still a bruised mess from his brawl yesterday with the Earth Demons, half of it swathed in dirty bandages. "So, we can take it easy, right?"
"Not even close. We are sellswords, we are paid to guard, so we guard." Razkar looked the youth up and down briefly. "Except you. Get bandage changed and then get to bed."
"Sir, I can walk just-"
The Myrian rolled his eyes then unsheathed his kukri and tossed it at the boy in one easy movement. Slowly, carefully, handle first as if he was aiming for the boy to catch it, an easy enough feet for one Manny's age-
-but the boy botched and bungled and missed the catch by a good foot.
"But you cannot use your eyes. Change and bed. Rest of you? Guard duty, like yesterday." They began to disperse and Razkar swung his gaze back to the female massaging her her shoulder. Her upper arm and forearms were pure white... or at least, they had been, with bandages, but now they were smeared with mud. He looked it up and down. "That make firing a bow harder for you?"
"Pah. Don't flatter yourself, Myrian."
"You were badly hurt last day. Could barely use your arm."
"I've put arrows into apples at twenty yards with a bloody arm, Razkar. Remember that."
"As you wish..."
It was curious how his private, silent fear at that chime was having to face Edreina with Moretta following him. Razkar was no idiot, and while he didn't understand it, he knew there was some nameless, crackling aggression between the two females that he had no desire to stoke or kindle... but the scout was good at her job and his apprentice needed to learn to follow orders.
Even if it's from people you don't petching like.
His mind was already running through ways to break it to her... when he realized there was no "her" to convince. He frowned as he approached their tent, seeing that Jorven was gone, Mrrko looking distinctly uncomfortable all alone once again, tossing his black mane back and forth as if trying to get his attention.
"Apprentice?" The Myrian barked, peering into the tent. "Where is-"
Nothing. No red mane to catch his eyes, no blue stare to entrap them, no subdued glare at the scowling Drykas over his shoulder. Nothing but two bedrolls and a coulple of rucksacks.
"Petching weird..."
The Myrian didn't panic; Moretta noticed that much. He didn't start flailing or screaming or snapping, like many males she knew would. Her commander took each hardship and problem as it came, and concerned himself only when there was need for concern. What did he know, as far as bone-hard fasts went? His apprentice was gone and so was her steed. Was that reason for concern.
Two days ago, no, it would not have been.
But two days ago, he had no idea there was a Dhani among them.
"The Viper, Karin," he said quickly, looking around the tent as if for some sign of hint as to where they'd gone, "The Dhani, have you seen here today?"
Moretta frowned and trawled her memory, sun beginning to peek over the hilltops behind her. The rest of the caravan was rising, more sluggish than usual, knowing they would make camp there for the day, but still the clamor of animals yearning to be fed was loud and insistent.
Razkar ignored them all, eyes focused on the scout.
"Erm... not... that I can recall. She vanished after last night, I haven't seen her. You don't think-"
"-I think I see Jorven's tracks."
The Drykas frowned and followed the Myrian's eyes, even as he crouched down, dark eyes crushed by his squinting brows... until she could see the same thing. The imprints of hooves, deep and fresh in the earth around their tent... leading away... to the woods. But the Drykas noticed something... odd, making a strange little sound as they both straightened back up.
"What?"
"Hmm?"
"That noise you made?"
"Well... it's probably nothing, but-"
"Nothing is nothing," Razkar growled out in a tone that set those words in stone forevermore, and nodded to her, "Not today. What do you see?"
"Well... I've seen the tracks from her horse. They're not usually that deep. Maybe... a little deeper than usual."
Razkar frowned, following her reasoning: Jorven was carrying extra weight. But considering none of their gear nor equipment was missing, that could only mean...
"... another person on its back."
"That could be it, yes, but-"
"Follow me."
Moretta stuttered and blustered but the Myrian was already walking swiftly away, head bent as his eyes jumped from hoofprint to hoofprint as they led their way steadily from the tent, away from the camp, towards the tangle of dark trees to the south. She almost had to run to keep up, words spilling out as she did.
"Wait, what are we doing?"
"Finding out where my apprentice went, and who went with her."
"She could just have gone for a ride, you know."
"I do not think so."
Moretta held her tongue and that alone was as good as a scream to the Myrian. He stopped and turned to see her conflicted face, looking her up and down...
"Speak your mind on this."
"I think you're hoping you'll find the Dhani with her. You want a reason to kill her."
"I am a Child of Myri. I do not need a reason."
"She is a passenger on the caravan-"
"She said herself she is stowaway."
"It will be... hard to explain."
"In Syliras? Yes." Razkar's eyes twinkled with some diabolical joy, at some loophole found and gleefully exploited. "But not here. Not in the Wildlands. Here, she is just one more feast for worms and jackals, lost in woods."
"If she is there."
"Yes. 'If'."
"And you want me to come with you?"
"Dhani is a master at making illusions, at controlling minds. She is dangerous. Need someone watching my back."
"And what makes you think I'll come along?"
"I can order you."
Moretta snorted, half-cocked smirk twisting her lips. "First rule of being a sellsword: never take a job you won't survive to spend the mizas it's paying you. A Myrian and a Drykas against a master of illusions... steep odds, Razkar."
He had to admit, she had a point. What stake did she have in this? The half-breed might fancy herself a replacement apprentice to Edreina, perhaps, but she was smart enough to know a difficult fight when she saw it. So he stood watching her... and then unburdened himself of his bow and quiver.
"Then you do not need to get in close." He extended his hands, loaded with re-curve bow and quiver loaded with arrows that could punch through armor and mangle flesh with equal ease. "You are archer. You are great archer, as I have seen. So, stay at distance. Watch my back..."
The words did not come slowly, as she was expecting them to. The Myrian had clearly been here before, and though she suspected he was always checking himself around the "barbarians", some line within him had been crossed by the Dhani.
That meant she was no longer a living, breathing being to him; she was a problem to be solved, and removed from his way.
"... and if I give the shout, kill her."
"Razkar, I-"
"One arrow." He pressed on, stepping closer, not a pleading but an insistence in his eyes that surprised her. "That is all I ask. If you do not kill in that arrow, run. You owe nothing else to me, do you?"
Moretta snorted softly. She didn't, after all. She was a sellsword, a mercenary, a blade for mizas and if she was like most of her peers she would already be striding away and ignoring this whole tawdry drama.
But she remembered Razkar's harsh words the day before, as rain thundered down and she was in his grip, expecting her commander to take her head for her reckless, stupid risks...
And he let her up. Wounded, diminished somewhat before her surviving horsemen... but alive.
You owe him an arrow. But nothing more.
"... one arrow, Myrian." He flexed her arm and winced at the pain in her shoulder, his own elbow only adding to the ache from those fucking Yukmen's teeth in her flesh. "I don't think I'll have more than that in me."
"Thought you could put arrows into apples from-"
"Yeah, well...!" The half-breed suddenly got loud and struggled for the words, the excuse, lips moving but not speaking, snatching the bow and quiver away. "We're sellswords. We bullshkye."
But when she pulled away, he kept his grip... and she saw deadly seriousness in his eyes.
"You are good for one arrow?"
"Yes."
"You are sure."
"Just the one."
Razkar stared and stared and she was sure it was her soul she was examining, turning it over in his mind like a curious man would an odd stone found in his path. Finally... his grip relented, and she threw the quiver over her shoulder, drawing a broad-headed arrow, perfect for ripping through flesh.
"Then we go."
They turned their eyes back to the tracks and plunged into the woods.
It did not take long for them to find what they wanted, but it was by sound, not the sight of hooves clomped into the dirt. After a few chimes the two crouching, near-silent trackers stalled as they heard a familiar whinny from maybe a hundred yards away.
Jorven. Not in pain, just... impatient, by the sound of it. Razkar peered that way, forcing as much of his heightened senses as he could into that small patch of vegetation... and see the flickering shadow of the meandering horse.
"Slow." He whispered. "We are close..."
Moretta had to agree. As they got closer, moving carefully from cover to cover, she could see the horse was freed from saddle and bridle, the rider(s) clearly having no need to the beast anymore. A clearing was before them, Jorven circling it without care or purpose, snuffling and picking at the odd flower with his flat, clacking teeth...
Then they were at the edge of it, and Moretta's jaw dropped.
Two figures, both female, one straddling the other. Both had their lips pressed together, though the smaller, scaly one was more... enthusiastic. That was the word that came to her mind. The stupid Svefra seemed almost dazed, frowning like she was in some strange dream... but that didn't stop her lips moving against the Dhani's-
-and a growl like a roused bear rolled from the crouching beast at her side like an oncoming storm.
"Well... you were right." No reaction. No response. "Razkar? Are you-"
Gladius and ax were unsheathed without a word, the Myrian not taking his eyes from the two traitorous figures. Murder, stark and bloody and without care nor control, were writ large on his face, pouring from his eyes like a tide of blood. Moretta knew better than to offer advice, she just notched an arrow and waited for-
"Keep your eyes on the Dhani." Razkar said tightly, words coming out with a choke each time, like he was forcing himself to act like something other than a base beast. "If I give the word or it looks like she is trying to force my mind, kill her."
The scout just nodded, pausing only to rub a little glob of mud over the gleaming arrow head. She'd spotted enough ambushes in her time from Syna's rays alerting all and sundry to metal among rock and trees; she had no desire to repeat the mistakes of her lessers.
Razkar got up and started to walk. The clearing was grass and dirt, moist and soft by the morning dew that still glittered like fallen stars spread over the ground. His footsteps were slow... measured... and he had to marshal every inch of himself to make them so.
Traitor.
Monster.
Enemy.
All the same.
Only a matter of time.
Never have trusted.
Never have tried.
Warned you.
Warned her.
No good.
The twig snapped and the hateful monologue stopped. Surprised faces whirled around to face him, guilt plastered over one... and something akin to amusement on the other that only raised his ire further.
Razkar took a steadying breath that only barely worked... and pointed his gladius at the Dhani from perhaps ten feet away.
"You. Do not move. Do not make images in my head. Do not look in my eyes. If you do, you will die."
His ax moved now, pointing at his apprentice, though Razkar... Goddess... he could not look at her. Feared what he would do if he did.
"Get up. Get Jorven. Go back to the camp. This... thing, is no longer welcome among us. If she returns, I will feed her heart to the camp fires."
No, his eyes were perhaps too weak to see the shame and guilt in Edreina's eyes... so they would gain strength from the sight of that fucking Dhani instead. The Myrian gazed at her with the light of Syna behind him, trickling through the canopy of trees, careful to keep a clear shot for the archer hidden behind him... and his face morphed into a grimace that would have made Yukmen seem amenable by comparison.
"Do not try, bitch. I warned you."
Razakr felt unease, even the embryo of fear, take root in his guts. He had seen Earth Demons, creatures with barely a concept of fear, shirk from this female like she was Dira herself. Goddess knew what illusions and fantasies she could conjor... but his own realization, his own growling, howling rage, the dead-but-not-gone anger vibrating in the neclace on his chest...
They anchored him. They cleared his vision even as they painted it red.
If she works her wyrd against your mind, remember: the Dhnai is alive, and she needs to die.
OOCPhew! Sorry that took a while, guys. If I went too far, lemme know. Hehe, looking forward to this!
