Beauty and the Beast... and a Myrian too [Kamalia]

[Gunto]

2nd Day of Winter, 510 AV Late Evening Insufferable. Gunto had been following Kamalia about her daily routine in Zeltiva for a full day, and it had been most unpleasant. Aside from the fact that everyone seemed to gawk at their apparent friendship (most likely thinking the Myrian was somehow holding her captive, no doubt), Kamalia's preferred activities were... studious. Reading. Singing. Playing that damned harp. Incessant with that haughty tone and look in her eyes. It had been nearly enough to drive him mad. Gunto's hands were quivering with irritation when Kamalia finally announced that she would retire for the evening, apparently having had enough excitement for the day. Of course, Gunto had nearly been attacked when he stepped foot inside the home of the Konti's friend whom she had been staying. It took a bit of convincing on Kamalia's part to allow him to stay, but he was confined to a small storeroom. Like a rat. He had argued that he would be blind, deaf, and without any real way of staving off any potential threat if he was in the basement level fraternizing with the rats, but their hostess had insisted and Kamalia didn't seem particularly worried about her safety. Even the food was horrible. Gunto had spat and nearly set into a fit of rage when a plate of some hideous tasting grain and vegetables was given to him... as if that were some sort of meal. His mouth watered at the thought of returning to the city streets and buying a skewer of meat. Even a filthy chicken sounded delicious... charred to a black husk, it still would have been preferable. Alas, he did not leave. Gunto resigned himself to his quarters, and sat on the floor with his back against the wall. shhhhhhhhink! shhhhhhhhink! The sound of Gunto running the wicked edge of his blade against the edge of his metal bracer would no doubt drive those two damn women mad. They needed a good sharpening anyhow. He grinned as he worked his blade over, but after fifteen chimes the game got old. Worse yet, the two hens upstairs seemed content to assault his senses with a wretched display of song and dance. That damned harp again, only this time it was accompanied by the pounding of dancing feet that thundered through the floor above him. "Myri, give me the strength not to kill them both tonight..." Gunto said to himself in Myrian, chuckling at the thought. He wouldn't do such a thing, but it relieved a little stress just imagining it. Gunto didn't know when the song and dance ended, but it couldn't have been long. Had he nodded off? He didn't care. It was quiet, perhaps a bit too quiet... but too quiet was better than too loud. Gunto fell fast asleep, sitting in the corner of the room like a vagrant. He would be oblivious to any dealings occuring upstairs... but that wasn't his fault. He hadn't chosen a storeroom, after all.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Trying to please both Gunto and Rafa at once was impossible, Kamalia conceded tiredly. Kamalia took more than two bells trying to convince her Konti friend to allow the Myrian to stay with them. Before Gunto could even step inside, Rafa was already cussing scandalously at him with the more colorful swear words in the Common language, hurling wooden plates and ceramic vases and threatening him with a considerable arsenal of brooms and frying pans. Granted, the woman’s rage was not as colorful and violent as those favored by female Myrians, for the war-like amazons of Taloba could punctuate their shrieking diatribes with stabs of a dagger and showers of blood. But Rafa did what she could with the resources she had—Gunto would have to grant her that.

Kamalia had to disarm an approaching pair of city guards with her most dazzling smiles and convince them that everything was “under control, and Master Gunto was a good friend.” In the end though, Rafa eventually quieted down and conceded that Gunto could stay with them— on the condition that the Myrian will be confined to the small cellar below and take a bath daily to get rid of his “hireling smell”. Rafa even asked Kamalia to offer him towels and a lavender soap as if to stress the point. Kamalia herself thought Gunto smelled of dried blood and desiccated bones.

Kamalia gave Gunto a sympathetic smile (which probably made things worse for the proud southlander and a warrior of his caste) when she brought him a wash basin and a large kettle of warm water. She placed thick, neatly folded towels and a large cake of lavender-scented tallow soap on a nearby stool. The next things that Kamalia brought into the basement were a small jar of dubious-looking powder, a goblet of cold water and white cloth for polishing teeth. When Gunto gave her an incredulous glare, Kamalia went on calmly to explain to him the importance of dental hygiene. The powder, she said, was a baked mixture of sage herbs and sea salt, which would help clean the gums and turn his teeth white. Before the Myrian could mutter his protest, Kamalia flatly said that Rafa did not like men with yellow teeth under her roof. She left the storeroom with a regal hauteur and shut the door behind him.

Kamalia sighed and smiled at her beloved friend. Like many other Konti, Rafa had answered the Call, which caused her to journey far from home to pursue her ambition: to author a grand book that contained a comprehensive list of all the herbs in Mizahar. Here in Zeltiva she fell in love with a seafaring gleeman and they lived a humble yet peaceful life. She outlived her husband and lived so long among humans that she thought she would no longer fit in the serene and orderly Konti society in Mura. As a widow, Rafa chose to stay in Zeltiva and earned her living as a skilled herbalist and a healer. Rafa had always felt the Longing, a mysterious emotion experienced by Konti who had left their homeland and wandered for a long time. She was more than happy for the company of a Konti sister, even more so when she found out that Kamalia was from the prominent clan of Timandre. In fact, she pleaded for Kamalia to stay with her.

Like Rafa who felt homesick, Kamalia also felt somewhat closer to Mura by merely being with her. They ate food the Konti way—spiced kelp, steamed snails, scallops, buttered vegetables and imported tol’uma rice— and Kamalia realized how she missed Kontinese cuisine. Kamalia despaired at the possibility that she would never again taste White Isle venison or nuzem calamari. During the nights, whenever Kamalia opted to stay with the herbalist instead of visiting the Wright University Library, she would teach Rafa Kontinese songs, and together they would sing praises to the All-Seeing Mother. The Timandre songstress would strum the strings of her harp, and Rafa would whirl and dip and leap in a graceful dance to honor the Goddess of Seers. Kamalia never told Rafa how she was exiled from Mura, but if by any chance, the Konti herbalist employed Divination to find out, she prayed that Rafa would understand.

The night was growing deep. After a few songs and prayers to Avalis, the Konti settled down and decided to have tea. The herbalist’s house was humble but comfortable, with a main room, a single bedroom, a bath and a basement storeroom. Rafa was extravagant with the candles, and a fire crackled in the big stone fireplace, so that the living quarters had a warm, cheerful feel to it. A broad oaken table was the main feature of the room other than the fireplace. A few cabinets and chests lined the walls, and two cushioned chairs sat angled before the flames. There was a single antique shelf which held books, jars and bottles of herbs.

Rafa filled a small kettle with water for tea and hung it from a hook over the fire. Once the tea water boiled fiercely, Rafa wrapped a cloth around the kettle’s handle to lift it off the hook. She used a wooden tea ladle to gently pour simmering tea onto small porcelain hand-painted cups. They seated on the cushioned chairs before the fireplace. Kamalia picked up her cup with both hands and calmly sipped her tea.

“What made you change your mind so suddenly, Sister?” Kamalia spoke softly in Kontinese, fixing Rafa a serene gaze. “Why did you allow Gunto to stay?”

“I just thought I saw something between the two of you, like sparks of light,” Rafa said with an amused look, before sipping from her cup. “You see, I guess I still have the Gift after all. I look at a man and a woman who’ve never talked to one another, and I know they’ll marry. And they do. That sort of thing.”

“You are a Matchmaker, then,” Kamalia said amusedly. “But are you saying that—“

“No, not exactly what you’re thinking, Sister. I can’t say for sure. But when I look at the two of you, I see strange sparks swirling around you, and you’re both tied together in something big and dangerous. There are dark cords trying to coil around you, thousands of them, and a big shadow darker than Akajia’s midnight hangs over you it makes me wonder why you don’t see it. Most of all, the cords and the darkness are trying to consume you, but your lights seem to fight them back,” she shrugged. “I don’t really understand all of it. I just know you’re in for something very dangerous, but I can’t make any more of it.”

“I see,” Kamalia said softly, her violet-blue eyes distant. “I have been foretold of his coming through my water-scrying. The Vision Water showed that he is part of my destiny, but I could only reveal so much. I only know that a storm draws near. ”

Kamalia drank in small sips, eyes closed, and the warm liquid somehow soothed the aching unease in her throat. A silence hung over them until it was too unbearable to become quiet.

“You shouldn’t go to Sahova. Only more danger awaits you there,” Rafa said ominously. “Stay with me.”

“I cannot,” Kamalia softly replied, gently placing her teacup. “It pains me to leave, but I cannot tarry here and allow the squall to turn into a storm.”

A heavy thump at the door rattled the lock, and all thoughts of squalls and storms flew away.

“Neighbor,” Rafa said uncertainly and rose from her seat. She straightened the folds of her skirts. She was dressed in the tan garbs of a human commoner. “Probably Mistress Cassiline looking to boost her fertility. Let’s see. I think I’ve still got some black cohosh, chaste berry and evening primrose oil.”

Kamalia’s eyes widened as she was suddenly gripped by a powerful conviction that they were in danger. “Stand away from the door,” Kamalia cautioned her Konti sister in a low, commanding voice. She quickly rose to her feet, leveling deadly eyes towards the door. “Stand away!”

“Kam—“Rafa was cut off, and then the door burst open, pieces of the iron lock spinning across the floor. A figure filled the doorway, a tall, stocky man in black mail and clutching a two-handed great sword. The man stared hungrily at the two Konti, sniggering menacingly.

They were under attack! Kamalia took it all in one deep breath, before her hands fluttered in the air to speed through the gestures of a spell. Suddenly, gaseous silver res formed into a ball before her palms, magically drawing boiling water from the tea kettle. The sorceress hurled the scalding water sphere towards the man and it struck his face. The man roared a scream of pain, as boiling water splashed over his face. Even as the water ball struck, Kamalia’s suvai flashed. Kamalia pushed Rafa aside and leaped at the thug, piercing his throat with the suvai’s venomous blade. The Konti raised her foot then to press along the male’s stomach, pushing his body forward as Kamalia withdrew her suvai from his gullet. The roar became abruptly a gurgle, and the huge shape toppled back. Before the man finished falling, another was clawing his way past.

“Wake Gunto and run. Now!” Kamalia shouted in a compelling voice to Rafa, before lunging at the new intruder. There must be a dozen of them outside Rafa's house shrouded in the shadows of the night.

[Gunto]

Gunto's head snapped up from his peaceful slumber when he heard a terrible ruckus. The sound of footfalls on the stairway descending to his pit, faintly audible at first but growing louder by the second. Gunto's eyes moved rapidly, adjusting to the sudden awakening. He had actually been quite content in his sleep for once... damned Konti and their soaps. He'd consented to the bath (which he had secretly enjoyed), but had fiddled with the tooth powder for a chime or two before tossing it aside. Now broken from his comfort, he stood and stretched with a loud yawn filling his tiny room. Gunto kicked his heel on the stone floor, trying to get the life back into his body when he heard the yelling. "Gunto! Quickly! Come upstairs! Bandits have goturmphhhh!" Gunto's eyes rolled as he heard his hostess' voice initially. Surely she was calling for him to come move something heavy, or further degrade him by having him take some garbage to a burning pit. But no, when she screamed the word "bandits" and Gunto heard her stifled words, he knew she was being attacked. It was the sound of a hand being placed over a mouth, one he was rather familiar with himself. His body was a flash, gripping the doorframe with one hand and spinning himself around the corner. He crashed towards the stairwell, running up the stairs four at a time before he came face to face with Rafa and her assailant. A familiar face... a member of the loosely organized group Gunto had been running with here in Zeltiva. Up until yesterday. "Gunto! Wily bastard, good idea sneaking in that way... help me with this one, we need to get the other Konti bitch under con-turghckk...." Gunto hadn't wasted time with words. His understanding of the situation was hazy, but he had seen enough of this sort of thing to know what was going on. For whatever reason, his gang had decided to take these Konti women... most likely for the slave trade. Whatever the reason, he had mentioned Kamalia. Gunto had honored his contract instantly, his right arm shooting forth like a whip. His fingers were outstretched like a spear that plunged inside his former comrade's open mouth and pressed down, depressing his tongue. It triggered his gag reflex, immediately producing vomit and disorienting him. Gunto pushed them man forward, sending him toppling to the ground sputtering as Gunto landed atop him. He positioned himself quickly, digging his knees into the man's bulky shoulders to stifle his movement.The Myrian's thundering war-cry would draw the attention of all, and those in the room would witness the savagery they formerly rallied upon. The only difference was in this moment, that brutality was not to their benefit. Gunto straddled the stunned man, and the familiar grinding sound of steel and leather caused his victim's eyes to widen. Gunto's kukri had become a symbol of brutality among these men; the following was a first hand reminder why. The wide and thick blade didn't need to be swung hard. Gunto's arm glided in an arc, pulling the blade free from it's scabbard mounted atop his shoulder armor. The blade traced a deep and wicked path across the man's throat. Blood immediately flowed, pulsing in tandem with the horrified mercenary's heartbeat. Cutting a man's throat was a bad way to go. Gunto's way was even worse. He plunged his other hand into the wound, taking a hold of all the muscles and mass within and ripping it out as if he were uprooting a plant. It was a spectacular mess of chunky organ matter and red splashes that stained the floor. Rafa had initially squealed and shown a look of relief at her apparent rescue, but Gunto's display quickly shifted her relieved look to one of horror. Her shrill cry only added more chaos into the mix as she retreated into the depths of her home. Gunto stood, turning to the rest of the room. The others were stunned for the moment, having expected their comrade to be on the their side upon initially seeing him enter the room. Once he tossed the bloody mess contained in his right hand to the ground and bellowed another warcry, there was no mistaking it. To take either of these Konti, Gunto of the Shadow Hand would need dealing with. They had numbers, which posed a problem. Kamalia would no doubt use Gunto's small distraction to her advantage, and he could see that she had already dispatched at least one of the men. It was unfortunate that they were inside. Gunto knew enough about Reimancy to know that without the vast ocean to help fuel her magic, she wouldn't be able to create such a devastating effect as she had the day before. If she did, it would take far too long here, and run the risk of hurting her friend Rafa as well. Gunto took all this in as he charged, one kukri gleaming steel while the other leaving an airbone trail of blood. The man who stepped up to Gunto wielded a large metal club, riddled with notched indicating his successful kills. It took everything Gunto had to change his momentum and avoid the obvious wide swing that would have crushed his midsection. He threw his body to the side and onto the ground, rolling in a whirlwind of blade and leather. In his clumsy tumble, Gunto managed to accidentally entangle his legs with the clubman's, taking him to the ground as well. The room was hell, men gasping the sounds of death and others fighting their way into the living space of the home. As Gunto got to his feet, there were at least half a dozen men in the room. Gunto flashed both of his Kukri wildly, brandishing them and holding two men at bay for a small moment. It was enough time to turn his attention back to the clubman... but the following exchange wasn't exactly what Gunto had intended by his brave charge into the fray. The sensation of freefall took over his body, and Gunto knew he'd had his legs viciously swept out from under him by that damn club. When his rump collided with the floor, his entire body lurched into action. He pushed up and twisted his body, extending his reach with his leftmost kukri just enough to produce a harsh chopping motion. The resulting spray of red and the hand that had been freed from it's owner signified a sufficient amount of success, but the situation for Gunto was dire. Though he had succeeded in chopping one of the clubman's hands clean off with his signature kukri, others were closing in on him. Gunto began to kick his feet and slide backward, trying desperately to regain some sort of advantageous position... but the blow to his legs had temporarily rendered them nothing more than radiating beacons of pain. Gunto couldn't tell beyond the imposing figures of the two that approached him how Kamalia was faring, but he was only slightly shamed to hope she was doing better than he was. Kamalia's Situation : Kamalia would have precious few seconds to come up with some sort of attack or method of escape after Gunto provided a momentary distraction. However, soon after the men would begin flooding in. There was already one man upon Kamalia when Gunto entered the room, and three more would begin to circle her as he did battle with three himself. There were still four to five waiting outside the house, but if things got out of control they would most likely enter and attempt to intervene. Kamalia must be wary of both Gunto and Rafa in her immediate vicinity, or else she may end up harming them as well.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Kamalia elegantly twirled her suvai before diving in, intent on plunging the bloodstained blade of her weapon into the heart of her new attacker. Her opponent, a slender black-masked man who wielded a long dagger, batted aside her attacks nimbly and almost effortlessly. But Kamalia drove on, whirling and leaping and slashing to provide Rafa a chime to call for Gunto. Her opponent’s strength and speed were astonishing, and Kamalia found herself hard-pressed when the mercenary started slashing and slicing at her aggressively. In a trained warrior’s eyes, Kamalia’s parries had too many faults and openings, and her blocks were hardly efficient, and so she was easily pushed back. The Konti danced back a few steps, reached into the coils of her hair and took from it three tiny isurian steel blades shaped into six-pointed stars. Kamalia launched the shooting stars, one by one, at the advancing man. Kamalia had rarely used these throwing weapons, so she did not expect her blades to find their mark, but they were meant to distract the intruders more than to injure.

Kamalia yelped as suddenly a large hand seized a handful of her silvery white hair from her side. Her head snapped back, as a bronze-skinned mercenary holding a large cudgel ready to strike at her ribs and render her unconscious yanked her long locks brutally. He grinned hungrily at her as he dragged her to him. “Our master would not thank me if I marred your skin. He might, however, be pleased to find you humbled,” the man breathed cryptically, dragging her closer.

Kamalia’s eyes widened with shock and outrage when his intent became clear. Instantly, Kamalia flipped her suvai and thrust the weapon towards the man’s stomach, but the hireling easily swung her tiny weapon away with his large cudgel. Losing her grip, the glinting silver whalebone clanged musically on the stone floor. There was no time to draw another weapon, no time to cast a spell, but Kamalia was not without defenses. She crossed her middle finger over her index finger, braced them into a rigid weapon, and drove her lacquered nails deep into the man’s eye.

He roared with pain and lashed out blindly; his fist connected solidly with Kamalia’s ear and sent her sprawling. The bronze-skinned mercenary dashed the gore from his face and leaped at her. Ignoring the ringing in her head, the Konti quickly reached for the suvai on the floor and plunged it upwards with all her strength. Her aim was true; her poisonous blade struck his right armpit, and she was rewarded with another scream of pain—this one at least two octaves higher than the last. The man hit the ground nearby, groaning and curled up as tightly as an overcooked shrimp.

Kamalia scrambled at her feet and turned to flee. The male grabbed at her, and his hand managed to close around her ankle. With her free foot, the Konti stomped on the man’s wrist, but her soft velvet shoes lent little conviction to the attack, and she did not break his hold. Quickly abandoning the attempt, she kicked him in the face. She got several more blows before the man managed to capture her free foot, as well. With a quick, sharp jerk he pulled both feet from under her. Kamalia’s arms flew out wide and she fell straight back. Her head met the stone floor with a sharp crack. The force of the blow—although cushioned by her thick white mane—left her stunned.

The male crawled over to her, threw his cudgel aside and held her wrists with one large hand. He drew a long knife from his belt, ready to slice her chemise open. Pure lust and dark desire glowed in his one good eye. He did not mean to kill her; he intended to ravage her body, the Konti thought with terror and disgust. For a moment, Kamalia heard Rafa yelling, and then she could have sworn that she heard one man asking for Gunto’s help. Kamalia’s heart leapt with horror as realization crept through her. Did Gunto betray them? Did her Gift for truth-sensitivity finally fail her for the first time?

Kamalia suddenly heard vomiting, startled yelps, blades being unsheathed and the sound of a throat being ripped out. There was moment of stunned silence, before a great Myrian war cry roared and echoed throughout the room. She moved her head to the side and saw the bloody innards contained in his hand. “Holy Avalis,” Kamalia breathed, watching with wide eyes and growing excitement. Elation, sudden and unexpected swept through the young Konti wizard. Everyone was stunned by Gunto's presence, and Kamalia grabbed this sliver of opportunity to maneuver her escape.

While her captor gawked at the Myrian in shock, Kamalia collected djed from her throat, immediately converting it into gaseous res when it left her delicate lips. Suddenly, the res transmuted into an icy, glacial breath— air that froze the man’s face in a thick crust of skin-cutting ice. The man was about to stab her with his long knife but suddenly, his arm fell limp. His blade dropped to the floor as the poison that he contracted from Kamalia’s suvai spread from his wound and throughout his entire limb, immobilizing his arm and hand. His other hand clawed through his ice-crusted face, as he screamed a muffled shriek of agony. With her hands free, she reached for her suvai, and slashed it once, twice, across his throat. The mercenary slumped, clutching frantically at his gaping wound with his still-functioning hand. With one final stroke, Kamalia sank the blade of her suvai deep into his throat. The man managed a gurgled protest and fell limp.

Ignoring the throbbing in her head and weird sparks of light exploding behind her eyes, Kamalia pushed away from the dead mercenary. She saw a severed hand flying through the air before she rolled free of the corpse, her suvai ready in her hand. She shifted into a cat’s stance before Rafa, with her suvai drawn in her right hand, drawing it backwards, ready to intercept incoming attacks, as she studied the scene. The slender black-masked man with a long dagger, and two more men were circling her, but they were obviously more afraid of Gunto of the Shadow Hand who fought so viciously, so they kept some distance.

The two Konti stood before the door with stairs leading down to the storeroom. Kamalia gestured for Rafa to hide in the basement, before her fingers started fluttering in the air. The Konti sorceress was not sure if this would work, but she supposed it was about time. The reimancer sought to control her most feared element—the all-consuming Fire. Kamalia Timandre sang a short spellsong in a siren soprano as she weaved her djed to materialize as silver res. She produced a large stream of res, and immediately willed it towards the fireplace. She thought about Ivak, and the flaming wrath that engulfed Mizahar in the Cataclysm. Kamalia’s song would hopefully act as an indicator to Gunto for what was to come, and the sorceress hoped the Myrian had sense enough to move in front of her and defend her from the three approaching men, or her spell would be interrupted.

Should Kamalia’s spellcasting succeed and not be interrupted, summoned air would set the fireplace ablaze. Kamalia would form her res into spheres and launch blazing balls from the fireplace one by one, to engulf the three approaching mercenaries in flames. Once the more pressing threats were eliminated, Kamalia would proceed to use air reimancy to fan the flames from the fireplace towards Gunto’s foes, making a cone of fire that would bathe them and turn them into charred corpses. Everything now depended upon Gunto’s speed and experience with teamwork.

[Gunto]

Gunto's legs hurt. He had been trained to fight in the jungle, and that was his comfort zone. Here, in the confines of such a small house it was almost disorienting. Where in his homeland the men would have been dispersing out amidst the chaos, in this setting everything simple grew more confined and confusing. He'd been struck unaware, and as he slid across the floor he felt disheartened. He'd killed one man and lopped the hand off another, but Gunto's battlefield awareness was dim. He tried to track Kamalia, but the looming shapes of his former comrades blocked his view. Damn them. It wouldn't have been so terrible, but his mates were not thugs or idiots. They wore armor; thick studder leather and mail. The throat, the armpits, the groin, the thigh... these were Gunto's primary areas of attack, and they suffocated his offense. But Gunto had no time for sniveling. He was a Myrian, and he would fight. Never had he tested himself against odds such as this... but damned if he would let this pass. He'd shed blood with these men, and after so much time... reducing themselves to kidnapping? Slavery?! Gunto was considered a savage unintelligent monster by most who glanced upon him, but he did not abide slavery. Assaulting women for such a purpose was beyond acceptable; women were to be revered and protected, served with honor! Even if they were not equals in combat, a woman's place in Myrian society was steadfast. They were leaders, warriors, and queens. Rafa and Kamalia were not Myrian women, but they were under his protection. Gunto's pierced and skull marked face darkened into a grimace. Injured or not, he would fight on. "AROOOOOOOOOOOOOOMPH!" He bellowed, throwing his body forward and forcing himself to his feet. Two in front, both carrying blades. One to his right, the clubman who was crumpled on the ground screaming in agony over his lost hand. Kamalia, fast being approached by armed men, ushering Rafa to the basement where he formerly slept. He could not kill five men by himself... but he knew Kamalia could, if she had the time and ingenuity. At that moment, in such a stark contrast to his roar, a siren's song filled his ears. Some Wizards used incantations of sorts to ease their concentration when using magic; this much he knew. If Kamalia was singing, no doubt she was focusing her magic... she was no novice, so it was something big. He had to stop them from touching her. Gunto's kukri's flashed as they moved at his sides, his body stumbling forward towards the two men that opposed him. The first's longsword came down in an overhead slash, but Gunto's twin blades met it's halfway. He held his kukri knives in a cross, the longsword trapped as if held by a pair of scissors. No time for a sword fight; Gunto pushed the blade downward and threw his shoulder into the mercenaries chest. Enemies stumbling, Gunto spinning and crossing blades with the other, this time his opponent wielding a shortsword of some type Gunto had never seen. His kukri's were curved, chopping weapons... not ideal for parrying and clashing with other blades, but Gunto did what he could. He met repeated slashes while maneuvering himself towards Kamalia, but he and his opponent had reached an impasse. Neither could find fault in the others defense, until Gunto gave up on his knife fighting and lashed out with his heel. The impact above his opponent's knee sent him down to the ground, cursing and dropping his blade. Gunto didn't fair much better, as the full weight of his body on his injured leg resulted in his own toppling. He impacted the ground, hurridly pushing himself to his stomach and rising to his feet. His knives were on the floor, no time to fetch them. He had pushed one man to the ground and halted the other's advance in only a few short seconds, but that had been far too long. Kamalia would be overtaken if he did not act swiftly. Another roar escaped Gunto's throat, but this was not a true war cry. It was a cry of anguish, drowned out by the sound of his heavy feet plodding on the floor as he simply dove into the mass of the three men who approached his Konti charge. Gunto's arms wrapped around his initial target, ripping his feet out from under him and taking him to the ground. In the chaos of his charge, one of the other men was knocked to his backside while the other stumbled. Gunto's head snapped to the side, taking in the stumbling man. He was only a few precious feet from Kamalia, a glinting steel dagger poised to tear through her delicate torso. Gunto's legs swept out, slamming into the man's ankle on either side. He jerked his legs at the knees hard, effectively taking the man's foot out from under him. Gunto couldn't have planned the fall any better, as that shining steel dagger ended up lodged nicely in it's users own stomach upon impact. His gurgled cry was drowned out by a great sound. woooOOOOOOSHHHH! Fire. The fireplace. Kamalia had utilized the water in the sea before, but Gunto's mind quickly assimilated that she was manipulating the fireplace into a weapon... he had moved very fast to intercept her assailents, and Gunto knew that they were likely about to be given a baptism of flame. And so would he. Gunto's body shuffled on all fours, knees and elbows pressing his weight upon one of the mercenaries as he retreated from their position. It was all he could do to dive away from their confused and fallen forms before an explosion of fire ripped through the house. Screams. Flesh burning. Gunto rolled away, covering his eyes with his forearms as he retreated from the flash of heat. He became aware of a painful heat on his backside, and uncovered his eyes to see his timeworn cloak set ablaze. Gunto frantically began to pat it's surface with his gloves hands to smother the flames. "Skurak! Watch what you're doing, Idiot!" Gunto screamed, but in his frenzy he had slipped into his native tongue. His statement would be lost on Kamalia. As he subdued the flames that had near engulfed his cloak, Gunto surveyed the room. The ceiling and floors were scorched black from the heat, and the temperature seemed to have risen dramatically. Yet nothing moved. The two men Gunto had clawed his way past in his retreat were nothing more than smoldering husks. Yet worse still, the men Gunto had briefly fought with his knives had been burned horribly, and currently lay unmoving on the floor. Only gasps and soft croaks emitted from their throats; most likely all they could muster from the incinerated innards. Everyone was dead. Gunto stumbled to his feet, walking meagerly past Kamalia to the spot where his blades had fallen. The hilts on both were badly scorched, but it was superficial damage at most. As he scooped them both up and held them at his side, he could feel the intense heat still radiating through them even as it worked it's way through his thick leather gloves. "Crazy Konti bitch... idiot..." Gunto said, dropping his hands to his knees and resting his knuckles just above his kneecaps. He still held his blades, but leaned over to catch his breath. He had barely resembled a warrior in that whole ordeal, much less the one who was supposedly doing the protecting. "Warn... next time..." The battle seemed over. Their display had most likely sent whatever reinforcements existed running with their tails between their legs. No doubt that whatever security Zeltiva had within it's city walls had been alerted by all the screaming and sounds of bloodshed, but thus far no one had presented themselves. Gunto was about to fall backwards and continue his bitter ranting towards Kamalia when a silhouette filled the doorway. "Gods be damned Gunto, what have you done..." Jalé stood, adorned in his battle raimant and wielding his enormous axe. It was a widowmaker, so deadly in his hands that even Gunto had taken notice. His black mail flickered orange in the smoldering glow of his mercenary band, outlining his angry face in deep shadow. "I knew you wouldn't approve of taking in some women for slavery... so I had to bring in another man to fill your spot. It's unfortunate that you got in the way here... I don't know how you're here, or why. But I am taking those Konti." Jalé said in a growling tone, stepping forward and centering his gaze on Gunto. From behind Jalé stepped another figure, much more meek this his bulky and armored frame. An older man, hunched over a gnarled walking stick and dressed in black finery shuffled next to Gunto's former brother-in-arms. "This is Jeruma... your ample replacement. I regret the loss of my men... but that just means a bigger cut for us, eh?" Jalé spoke, motioning towards the older man. He didn't speak, merely grinned and exposed a set of brilliant white teeth. Teeth much too perfect and much too young to belong to such an old man. And then they were upon them. Jalé crashing down upon Gunto, and Jeruma raising his head towards Kamalia and piercing her with a pair of ice blue eyes. "Jeruma and Jale" : Jeruma is a leecher, and quite a potent one at that. He is a Reimancer as well, and despite considerable skill he tends to only wield fire. His reimancy is not on par with Kamalia's, but his leeching is in the realm of expert. Jalé on the other hand is dressed for war, wearing steel mail armor mixed with flexible leather in other areas. His massive two bladed axe has a huge reach advantage over Gunto's knives. A simple steel longsword lies dormant at his hip, ready for use if needed.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Fire.

It scorched and burned and consumed everything. The Konti sorceress shut the sounds of the battle as her beguiling spellsong grew in power and tempo, flowing through the room like strong wine. The flames danced in reply to her firesong. Despite the screams and the clashes of blades, the song overwhelmed every other sound. Fire magic intoxicated her while burning djed coursed through her every nerve, causing her body’s temperature to rise drastically. Through sheer control of res, Kamalia willed gouts of flames to leap from the fireplace, turning into head-sized spinning fireballs that hurtled towards the approaching men. In a matter of breaths, there were howls of pain and anguish as the attackers’ bodies were engulfed in flames.

Not taking a moment to savor the carnage of her spellwork, Kamalia’s arms and body swayed once again as her song rose in a mezzo-soprano. He fingers wove more power, swirling res in an elaborate helix into the fireplace. The reimancer summoned wind from atop the chimney, and began to fan the flames from the fireplace towards the remaining intruders. She had the satisfaction, the deep abiding satisfaction, of hearing their shouts sucked away by indrawn breaths of astonishment and alarm. The strong gust and the dark smoke coming from the hearth immobilized the men for a single instant before a powerful blast swallowed them, bathing them in a deadly cone of flames. There was a concussive force as the pressurized air and blazing fire collided, almost knocking Kamalia and Gunto off their feet.

She felt the heat of the flames all over the confined place, waiting for the fire to die down. The stench of charred skin assaulted their nostrils afterwards and Kamalia coughed from the smoke and the smell. Five bodies lay on the floor, black lumps burned beyond recognition. A sixth body had been not visible, perhaps it was vaporized. Casting flashy fire spells for the first time (she had been training to light candles and small bonfires for a while now), Kamalia felt the symptoms of mild overgiving. Her entire body felt hot as if she had contracted a fever from casting fire spells. She could feel her own breath almost scalding her lips and tongue, but she did it. She did it!

Magic did not betray her this time!

Ignoring the Myrian’s insults, Kamalia gathered up the skirts of her white robes, now stained with soot, as she walked over one of the burnt bodies to retrieve her shooting stars. She knelt beside one man who still breathed and groaned before plunging her suvai into his heart, not wanting to prolong his agony. Kamalia rose and wiped dirt from her hands.

Holding a handful of silver-white hair over her nose against the stench of the charred men, she cast a quick glance around the room to survey the damage. The chairs were a pile of ash, the mops and brooms were a wisp of smoke. At least everything else remained intact. It seemed that the battle was finished, but Kamalia remained stiff and tense, suvai ready in her hand.

Kamalia regarded Gunto with an unreadable expression. “It is not over,” she cautioned the Myrian gently. Soon enough, shadows filled the entrance. The Konti spun to face their new foes and lifted her chin imperiously. There stood an armored man with blond hair wielding an enormous axe. Beside him grinned an elderly man in black finery, leaning over a gnarled staff. Another look at this “Jeruma” and Kamalia realized that his ice blue eyes were young—far too young for that lined face and wretched frail body. The Konti’s eyes widened as realization struck her. Anyone would mistake Jeruma as an aging man, but to a trained wizard’s eye, he would be easy to distinguish. Kamalia knew what the man truly was.

Books were fat with tales of the atrocities of the dark mages who practiced the black art of Leeching. Kamalia willed djed to course from her body to her eyeballs, as she attuned her eyes to the aura around the wizard’s being. His aura rippled with a dark, foreboding miasma that confirmed Kamalia’s suspicion. Concealed beneath his robe were items charged with magic through Glyphing. The Konti did not also fail to spot the glyphs painted all over his gnarled staff. She knew well that these glyphed items will be his djed battery once he runs out of magic.

Fear knotted in Kamalia’s throat as she dreaded the notion of a spell battle with a Leecher, but the proud Timandre kept her expression smooth and unruffled. She shifted her eyes to the man in black mail, watching him with an outwardly calm, measuring gaze. So Gunto worked with this man, Kamalia realized. The way he spoke with the Myrian gave Kamalia the impression that the two had been quite close.

“I see that you have very interesting friends, Master Gunto. I believe that introductions are in order?” Kamalia said softly, her eyes never leaving Jalé as she held herself with a grace and air of command. The Konti’s hand inched close to the waterskin hooked on her belt before she opened its lid.

And then suddenly, the room boomed into action. Jalé crashed down upon Gunto simultaneously as Kamalia and Jeruma’s hands gestured in the air and their voices filled the room with magical incantations. The Leecher’s baritone chant rose in a strange counterpoint to Kamalia’s siren song.

Jeruma extended his arm and conjured five fist-sized balls of black res before his outstretched palm. The black spheres drew flames from the hearth and from the many candles in the room. With only his will, Jeruma seemed to juggle the fireballs in the air before catapulting them one by one towards the Konti maiden.

Waving her arms with fluid motions that evoke the feel of flowing water, Kamalia’s hands produced silver res that drew ample amount of liquid from her waterskin. The levitating water stretched before her like a round buckler, and the fireballs sank into the liquid shield with fizz and smoke. Not wanting to waste a single second to revel, Kamalia whirled as if in a graceful dance before outstretching both arms. The water shield instantly froze into a glinting buckler of thick ice. Shouting a single spellword, Kamalia dug her fingers into the ice and it shattered into a multitude of shards. The shards flew towards Jeruma’s direction, ready to rend his crinkling flesh from his bones.

[Gunto]

Gunto thought the battle over. Yet, as that fruitful thought passed through his mind and he began taking stock of grotesque visages of his fallen comrades, Kamalia's voice echoed throughout the room. The two shapes in the doorway shattered the plausibility that their battle was over, but the warrior within Gunto surged with joy. Jalé was here... perhaps Gunto's best friend since he stepped foot in Zeltiva, yet his current actions and Gunto's own personal beliefs pitted them harshly on opposite sides. "Jalé... I don't know the other. Don't underestimate them..." Gunto muttered, rising from his stopped position and holding his kukri's at his side. He took a step back, and leaned into Kamalia's ear, whispering softly in her ear. "Jalé is a brilliant strategist, and I have seen him kill wizards in our day... be wary. He is challenge enough alone. I know nothing of the other." That was all Gunto managed before Jalé was upon him. Gunto moved quickly to the side, giving himself space from Kamalia as not to hamper or endanger her. In his hurry to move however, he failed to remember the stinging in the back of his knees. His legs buckled as he surged, and Gunto fell to his knees only seconds before Jalé was before him. He was on the ground and in quite the bad position, but Gunto made the most of it. He began to push his legs, wincing at the pain in his knees as his back made contact with something solid and hot; the singed stone of the ruined fireplace. With his back firmly supported, Gunto raised both of his kukri just as Jalé thrust his widowmaker axe at Gunto's chest. The two tips of the axes bulk could function as a brutal spear, and such an attack left Gunto with but one recourse. He thrust both of his arms up, the curved steel of his knife sliding into place near the head of the axe and halting it's momentum. The tips hovered dangerously close to Gunto's chest as the two men struggled against the other's strength. While Gunto spared no words in his struggle, Jalé was apparently more confident. "Gunto... you have been good to me, and I to you! Why this treachery!?" he yelled, baring teeth as he leaned over Gunto's diminished form. Gunto replied with no real words, but action and a cry of anguish. He heaved his right leg forward, slamming his booted heel into Jalé's thigh just above his knee. This had worked earlier for Gunto, and with what little experience he had in fighting with his body he had assumed to try it again. His knives had always been enough. Not today. Jalé's power waned as his leg buckled, but it was a glancing blow. Thick leather armor strapped around his upper legs reduced the blow to something of a nuisance, yet the real damage had been done. Gunto thrashed his entire body, heaving and throwing both of his arms to the left. The sound of metal skittering across the floor only added to the symphony of battle that had erupted around the room. Both of his kukris were lost for the moment, but Jalé had also lost a hold on his massive axe. Gunto did not relent; he pushed his body forward and onto his knees, springing forward and throwing his weight on top of Jalé in a tackling maneuver. There was struggle as Gunto fought for control atop Jalé. He was stronger than his former comrade, but the aforementioned armored plating that littered his body posed a problem when Gunto attempted to do any serious harm. Even his neck was protected by a large protruding steel collar. As Gunto's hands harmlessly pounded his enemies body in search of an opening, Gunto felt the cold grip of steel around his upper arm. His world began to spin, and the cold realization that he had been thrown from atop his opponent only sunk in when the harsh impact of the ground took the breath from his chest. He laid there for only a second, but from his position he could see Kamalia. It was confusing, as his view of her was upside down, but she waged a truly terrible war of her own... *** Jeruma's right hand brushed along the runed surface of his staff as Kamalia began her chant and reduced his initial attack to little more than steam and vapor. Yet her well formulated attack would end in failure. As Kamlia's voice boomed a single word, a low chant escaped Jeruma's lips that caused some deeply seeded reaction with his worn walking stick. An explosion of fire roared in front of Jeruma, spinning as if a hurricane and fanning out until it it's edged scorched both the floor and ceiling. The icy shards passed through the fire, yet nothing more than brittle chunks of rapidly melting ice pelted his form. Kamalia no doubt would know that her spell had been foiled, but Jeruma's next action would not have been expected. With her knowledge of leeching guiding her, she would suspect his body to fail him when called upon. Yet, her eyes would take in such a sight she may have been reminded of a firedancer's performance. Jeruma's withered body charged through the dissipating flames, his legs impacting the ground and covering the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Her eyes would only widen more as she felt a tremendous pain in her abdomen; the blunted edge of his staff striking her in a thrusting motion. Casting away the spent weapon, Jeruma seized Kamalia by her neck with his left hand. Try as she might to stymie has assault with her Suvai, Jeruma's other hand would take her and force the weapon away with a jarring and painful application of pressure to the soft interior of her wrist. She was left standing, assessing the leecher as he began his nefarious work. The pulsing and twitching of his exposed and thin muscles provided a visual clue; auristics were not needed in this case. Not only could Jeruma manipulate his res as she did with Reimancy, but he knew the art of Flux. She would find this to be true as his arms quivered and shook, yet his strength remained steadfast. Peering into those eyes, Kamalia would see everything a wizard feels. Jeruma had long ago cast away worry for his own personal well being. His pupils dilated with pleasure, the djed in his muscles settling into a euphoria that only grew empowered as he began to drain Kamalia of that which fueled her own magic. *** This is what Gunto saw in that brief instant, his charge being held there like a child. It was but a small glimpse of their battle, but Gunto had no more time. His head snapped back to Jalé, his bulky and armored form bending down to retrieve his great axe. Yet Gunto's own kukri lay scattered several feet apart, and behind him. The situation did not bode well for either of them.

[Kamalia Timandre]

“That man beside him commands dark magic. Be safe,” Kamalia said softly to the Myrian when he told her about Jalé.

The spell battle waged between Kamalia and Jeruma was an unforgiving mettle of cunning and familiarity with the mechanics of elements. In raw magical power alone, Kamalia had the upper hand, but she knew instantly that she was on the losing side when she found out that Jeruma was the better prepared of the two of them. The ages-old Alahean adage “the most prepared wizard triumphs” was there for a reason after all. With insolent ease, Jeruma chanted an incantation that activated the glyph on his gnarled staff and called forth a hurricane of protective flames that surrounded him, dispelling the swarm of flying ice shards that sped through the air in his direction.

Embittered by her failure, Kamalia’s eyes flashed dangerously while she chanted the words of her next spell, but the next moments were unexpected to the young Konti. Jeruma’s seemingly frail body quickly emerged through the flames, and in a single breath the man was upon her. Magic strengthened the dark mage’s limbs. The Konti had erred and failed to visualize that the Leecher also commanded the power of Flux! She had miscalculated, and this small slip now struck her with the force of a dagger’s thrust. Jeruma seized the Konti by the neck with his left hand. Frantically the Konti maiden slashed out with her meager weapon, but her attempts were immediately seized when the man grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip.

Jeruma stared at her ravenously, but the Konti could see in his ice-blue eyes that it was not her physical beauty that caused it. He hungered for magic. He lusted for it and thirsted for it. She held that same unnerving famished look whenever she saw herself in her darkest nightmares, starving for undeniable thrill that magic could bring. The Konti’s legs weakened. As if remembering she had them, Kamalia began to knee him in the ribs and crotch. Despite his withered frame, Jeruma’s stomach was a solid belt of strength, however, and if the blows to the groin bothered him, he hid it well behind the occasional grunts of discomfort. Jeruma shoved her forcefully onto the floor in a choking grasp, and Kamalia’s skull hit the stone. She fought for air as they fell to the floor together. The man crawled on top of her. She thrashed, kicked and pounded with her free hand, but the wizard’s Flux made her attempts fruitless. The rage and frustration of an untamed spirit burned bright in her eyes.

And then she could feel it. Through his filthy fingers, he began to suck djed off her body. The feeling was so strange. Part of her was almost curious as an academic exercise. Even at a time like this, she could not shut down her inquisitive nature. All such things vanished, however, when the parting from her magic became too painful to bear. The pain was intense and sharp, and the Konti’s pale face became paler as the Leecher drank in her magic—her life. In a heartbeat, the Konti was shivering, her eyes fixed on the man as a mouse might eye a preying hawk. It was among the most painful moments the Konti had endured in her life.

In a matter of breaths, Kamalia was squirming underneath him, and the she began to scream. The Konti’s shrieks were terrible, each one more throat-wrenching than the last, and it almost seemed as if they had gone forever. The scream echoed throughout the house, shrieks of rage and intense pain. The signs of overgiving became apparent as her mouth started to taste metallic and her body shuddered with tormenting convulsions. She felt the essence of her magic, her lifeline, being siphoned off by the djed-draining fingers. Soon enough, the her screams sounded as if they were not of her own voice.

With the last ounces of her physical strength, Kamalia reached for one of the shooting stars concealed in her being using her free hand. She sank the sharp teeth of the isurian steel blade deep into his gut. She gave the weapon a vicious twist and wrenched it out, then thrust in again, and again, and again. Frantically the Konti struggled beneath the Jeruma’s weight, half-suffocated by the hand that gripped her neck. Blood painted her pale hands and made a blackish smear across the front of her robes. Jeruma howled in anguish, and as soon Kamalia found a moment of opportunity, she writhed herself away from under his body. The sorceress rolled aside and came up wielding her bloodied suvai and her shooting star in both hands. Her eyes were dazed and her white hair disheveled, but there was an unmistakable change in the way she looked.

Yes, it was unmistakable. Even Gunto and Jalé would see it.

Suddenly, the Konti flung aside her weapons and they clanged musically on the stone floor. For a moment, she staggered as if she might faint. With sheer force of will she pulled herself erect, and her face took on a placid mien that Gunto remembered. Kamalia’s body began to sway as her hands flashed through a gesture of a spell. Her incantations rose in a fiery soprano as gaseous djed gathered up before her slender form.

[Gunto]

Jalé was upon Gunto in a matter of seconds, his widowmaker splintering the floor that Gunto rolled away from at the last moment. As Jalé ripped his weapon free, Gunto scrambled to his feet. The two combatents stared eachother down, Gunto's legs quivering. Damn that son of a bitch for hitting him, and damn himself for allowing it to happen. Such a small thing, not to look behind you for the briefest of moments. Yet those precious few seconds had crippled him for the entirety of the fight. Their battle was delayed upon hearing the withering screams that escaped Jeruma's mouth. They both witnessed Kamalia's frenzied attack and the resulting bloodshed. Gunto's head snapped back to Jalé, and only then did his friend speak. "We would have preferred two, but seeing as how your whore friend has decided to kill all of my men... she won't be making the trip back with us. You have one last chance Gunto, and only because you've been a brother to me. Help me end her, and we can all walk away from this." Jalé growled, his voice drowning out the resulting chaos exploding on the other side of the room as Jeruma responded to Kamalia's assault. Gunto didn't have time for words, for he could see the predicament his companion was in. Besides, while Jalé's offer was tempting it was not in his nature to defect to the other side in battle. To be victorious is to destroy the enemy, not just to win. Gunto lunged forward, his body thrusting itself upon Jalé. He took hold of the widowmaker's handle, and began to wrestle for control of the weapon. His brave charge had caught Jalé off guard, and for a moment the two were deadlocked in their struggle. It was only as the sluggishness onset by his thick armor began to weigh upon him, and the reminder of a Myrian's strength did Jalé realize he would lose his weapon. Gunto ripped the great axe free from Jalé's grasp, tossing the weapon across the room where it landed with a racket in the cratered ruins of the fireplace. Jalé tried for his longsword, but Gunto was too close. The Myrian's hands wrapped around his opponent's elbow and lurched him off of his feet. Gunto spun, grunting in exertion as he threw Jalé as hard as he could and sent his former brother in arms sprawling to the ground in a heap. Gunto hobbled over a few paces as Jalé struggled to his feet. He had a few seconds due to the imposing burden Jalé's armor imparted on him, just enough to retrieve his two blades. Gunto turned to face Jalé just as he drew the longsword sheathed at his side, but his eyes couldn't help but fall on the scene behind Jalé's shoulder, and he visible began to shake... *** Jeruma's shrieks of agony soon died down as he rolled away from Kamalia's bloodied body. However it was his blood littering her clothing, not her own. The fire in his stomach was intense, a burning that couldn't be drowned out. Yet, the obsession in Jeruma manifested in an instant. His thin frame began to ripple, the muscles spasming uncontrollably. His opponent was losing control, that much he could sense. If she had any semblance of sanity left, she would quickly discern that he too had lost control. Yet he had given himself willingly, letting all of the barriers in his body fall as the djed within created a hurricane that numbed his pain. The flux was a deadly and dangerous tool, yet in overgiving it was invisible in it's cruelty. Jeruma felt euphoria wash over his body as the agony in his midsection melted away, replaced with an empowered drive to kill this obstinate Konti. Even as Kamalia began to prepare her djed for an onslaught, Jeruma was upon her again. He would not let the Konti cast another spell, not if his withered body would hold together. But oh, it would! His blood was on fire, a hypnotic euphoria that made him feel as though he were truly invincible. He took hold of Kamalia by her shoulder's jerking her body forward and slamming his forehead into her own. He would stifle her spellcasting at all costs, but the ill effect of his own attack could not be masked by his hyperactive djed. Jeruma stumbled back in the aftermath of his brutal attack, dazed and losing his footing. He couldn't tell the effect of his assault on Kamalia, for he was too busy blindly conjuring his own djed. He sought release... Jeruma fell onto his back, quivering and shaking. The djed seeped from his pores, appearing as glistening sweat that was tinted the fainted of silver. His mind was no longer in a rational state; he was bringing it all out to bare. He would not survive this, but that thought had no meaning to him anymore. Every ounce of djed in his body was bursting free, creating a pool that expanded and whipped around his body. Once the last drop was expended... he would ignite it. And kill them all. *** Gunto's body roared forward upon seeing Kamalia's plight when Jeruma viciously head butted her. Yet he couldn't ignore the presense of Jalé nor the feebleness of his own failing legs. As he drew near his own opponent, he was met with the a flash of steel that Gunto barely caught by combining his two kukri into an X. He held the blade there, but his eyes were not focused on his own plight. His thoughts were with the Konti, and the stark raving mad lunatic who seemed entranced in his magic. Gunto could not tell what exactly he was doing, but Kamalia's reaction he knew that it did not bode well for them.

[Kamalia Timandre]

If Jeruma had assumed that Kamalia would lose command of the djed expelled from her body, he would find out that he had gravely underestimated her. Control was everything to a Timandre-born wizard. Marshalling all the discipline of her arcane training, sheer willpower held the res steadily even as her vision exploded with stars when the Leecher slammed his forehead against hers. There was no way Kamalia could have parried the blow, however, and the Konti swayed before she fell to her knees. Her entire body convulsed and she gritted her teeth against the searing pain that thrummed all over her cranium, but her mind focused on shaping the spell. It took all of the sorceress’ self-control to keep herself from falling unconscious and sustain the summoned res aloft in the air.

On her hands and knees, the Konti watched Jeruma stumble back, and took a moment—just a moment—to realize what the dark mage intended to do. Kamalia’s eyes widened in terror and disbelief: he was planning to kill them all! He intended to burn everything, including himself! Jeruma’s sanity had been distorted by his sinister magicks beyond repair. In a matter of chimes, he would be infusing the entire common room with his stolen, corrupted djed and ignite it to reduce everything within to ashes.

This thought spurred the young Konti to action. Kamalia rose immediately to her feet, half-singing the arcane words in a high chant, all the while sweeping the air with elaborate gestures. Feeling the waves of pleasure rush through her body, the sorceress willed her res to hover above Jeruma. The silvery gaseous res shaped itself into a massive cylinder, before the Konti transformed most of the outer portions into pressurized water. Magic licked her fingers with a downy tongue, and she continued, a mysterious smile curving across her face before she took a deep breath. Kamalia exhaled res from her mouth as a freezing wind, turning the water pillar into a thick block of solid ice.

The chant rose to a keening note, and the long, thick column of ice began to shift. Manipulating the res within the frozen pillar, Kamalia drove it to the ground, into the ceiling and then back again, repeatedly to where Jeruma lay.

Unless he was able to cast a counterspell the column of frost would certainly shatter the dark mage’s skull, crush his fragile ribs and limbs under its massive weight until he was squashed into bloody pulp. Kamalia would stand rigidly before the carnage, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction and malevolence as she appraised the brutal result of her magic. A mysterious smile curved across her face, before her body shuddered as the crusts of magical addiction thawed away, replaced by a dawning clarity of what had transpired only breaths ago.

Then time seemed to slow, allowing a person to become astoundingly clear about the situation they were present in; the detail of everything seemed to stick out to her; her senses heightened. Kamalia could consciously hear more clearly than normal, could see clearer than normally she would be able to, could smell the scent of tea and the fireplace mingled with blood and sweat and burnt flesh. She could taste the metallic tang of power in her mouth. The first immobilizing pain took the Konti by surprise, and she stared at Gunto despairingly with bloodshot eyes. Her djed had been utterly depleted, mainly as Jeruma had leeched most of it.

Before the Konti could call for help, the chilling fingers of Overgiving closed around her. She fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around herself, before she ended up writhing and squirming on the floor. Soon enough, her movements stopped and the Konti was draped unconscious upon the stone, limp like a discarded parchment.

It was a price Kamalia had to pay every time she overextended herself. Such power had a price—hers would have to be paid in blood.